#cut it down a lil bit

[normal-person-i-promise]

Bad Apple

chapter two

Nightmare's tentacles gently close the doors as he makes his way to you, steps confident, hands behind his back.

When he reaches for you, he tilts your head up to meet his eyes and presses his white teeth to your forehead, dripping the black sludge all over you. The rumbling starts anew from within his hollow ribcage, the warm sound loud enough to echo through yours. He brushes a hand down the side of your face, tender and loving, before he pulls you into a crushing hug, tentacles encircling you, pressing the air — and your cries — out of your lungs.

Petting your hair, he says, "You have no idea how much I've missed you, my love."

that scene inspired by that one drawing by itsxroxxanex. you know the one

same ao3 link btw

dreamtale belongs to jokublog, killer sans belongs to rahafwabas

× × ×

When you wake up, it's wet. Wet and cold.

You don't quite remember falling asleep on something with this kind of consistency, this chill that sent shivers down to your bones.

Though your eyes were still firmly shut, clinging to the last bits of sleep, you could feel... Things coiling around your body, the very same wet and cold being present on them. Everything was wet and cold.

It was uncomfortable, to say the least.

There's a deep, gentle rumbling from behind you, resonating through your body as you languidly blink open your sleepy eyes, and—

Where are you?! It was beautiful, yes, but—

"Finally awake, doll?" Nightmare's low tone fills the room you lie in, his voice reverberating through your ribcage from where your back was pressed up against him.

You'd nearly forgotten about him.

Your eyes flicker down to your body where his tentacles caressed your skin, entwining themselves in your limbs, securing yours to his. Preventing you from leaving. You instinctively struggle — though in vain — as the jet-black tentacles flex, elongating as they bind you to Nightmare.

"Leaving so soon, love?" You feel him press a bony cheek to the top of your head, nuzzling it into your hair, making the rumbling grow even louder — growing in tandem with your mounting discomfort.

You freeze when you feel his sharp, pitch-black hands caress your arms, feeling every inch of the skin on them as he brings the black phalanges up and down them in a slow, rhythmic motion. Every once in a while, he'd pause to trace small circles on your skin, leaving trails of black, viscous muck in their wake.

You nearly vomit.

The smell was horrible, a disgusting blend of food gone bad and rotting carcasses. It smelt wrong, like it shouldn't be in this state, and that it should smell pleasant and sweet — like how he used to, before...

You attempt to get away again as your limbs twist and turn against their black bonds, but the movements only make Nightmare tighten them. He breathes a sigh, your struggling doing nothing but increasing his sick pleasure.

You stop for a moment — heaving from your futile attempts at freedom — when you feel his sharp fingers gently rake through your hair, pressing strands of it to his nose every once in a while to breathe in your sweet scent, taking in slow breaths one after another.

He tenderly brings the back of his hand down the side of your face, contentedly sighing and shutting his eye as you squirm in his grasp.

He sits there for the longest time, unmoving — and when your muscles grow numb and your limbs feel heavy from struggling, Nightmare grins, the thin smile characteristically splitting his face nearly in half as his eye narrows in contentedness, not unlike the crescent moon.

You're tired now.

You feel him pressing his teeth affectionately against the back of your head, like a kiss, as the tentacles loosen, and— He's spun you around so that you're facing him, kneeling in his sharp, bony lap, your faces inches apart. The tentacles promptly tighten around you as soon as Nightmare moves, squelching and dripping as they coil around your body.

You look at him for only a moment, though it was all you needed.

There's a look of mania in his eye, blown wide — a sadistic sort of love that could only be satisfied by painful screams and tearful eyes.

By suffering.

You pointedly avoid Nightmare's piercing gaze as your eyes look everywhere but him, heaving heavy breaths as you press a hand to your mouth the keep the bile inside you.

He grips your shoulders tightly, leaving small indentations on the surface of your skin where his sharp fingertips lay as he stares into you, practically looking through you, his teal eye light a soulless imitation of a beating SOUL as it glowed like the moon on a dark summer's night. He stares at you for what feels like an eternity, shakily breathing as his whole body shudders to accommodate the slow, laborious breaths he took one after another.

That gentle rumbling grows even louder, impossibly so, just about shaking the bed you both lay on.

Sitting like this feels even worse than just now, what with Nightmare's fingertips digging into you and all eight of his limbs wrapped securely around you, making it hard to breathe.

...

Alright.

You're going to push against him, free yourself, and jump out of that window you saw.

Again.

After all, how high could you possibly be?

You take in a breath before you shove him away, freeing yourself from his surprisingly limp grasp and bolting for the window, adrenaline once again nulling the pain of your aching limbs and broken leg.

Pushing open the great panes of glass with such force you nearly fall out, you see...

Nothing.

Of course, there were black blobs, likely the rest of the building, but the rest was hidden by... Fog, glowing dimly under the light of the moon.

There was no ground.

You draw back slightly when pain erupts from your leg, clenching your hands and letting out a scream of pain as you vomit.

You can't escape in any way other than death.

The bed behind you creaks as Nightmare brings his weight off of it, his footsteps growing louder and louder.

"You would have never escaped my arms if I had so wished, darling."

You feel a bony finger find its way under your chin, gently turning your head and tilting it up, forcing you to stare into Nightmare's eye.

"What kind of lover would I be if I didn't let you breathe?"

His smile was gentle, even empathetic, but his eyelight, SOUL-shaped as it was, was full of a sort of... Madness, an insanity so inconceivable that no one should even be able to get a taste of it, but... There he was, staring at you with an adoration in his eyes as his expression turned fond, eye socket going half-lidded as he grinned wide.

"You're never leaving."

His voice was inappropriately warm and loving, the sort of voice you would use to say the words I love you.

Letting go of your chin and looking out to the fog, he absentmindedly added,

You're dead if you fall."

He chuckles at this, the low sound echoing through the quiet air.

As soon as the words register, you just.. Stare off into the distance, Nightmare turning to you with a sadistic grin on his face.

"I just love it when you're in pain."

Saying this, he bends down to your height, cupping your head in an inky-black hand and drawing a finger across your cheek as the tentacles wound around your limbs.

...

You've had enough.

You square your shoulders as Nightmare brings his hand away from you, tears streaming down your cheeks and falling into nothingness.

You shove him harshly.

Nightmare definitely wasn't expecting that, judging by how much he was set aback — tentacles slipping off your skin as he stumbles on his feet, all eight of his limbs worked hard to get him balanced again.

He looks up at you slowly, eye socket narrowed and grin having vanished.

"You wanna act like that?"

His bony lip curled, brow bones lowering with irritation.

"Fine."

He turns on his heel, tentacles trailing behind him as he briskly walks to the great double doors. He slams them shut loudly, the sound echoing through the empty room you stood in.

You hear the sound of keys turning, no doubt Nightmare locking your only exit.

His footsteps fade away until it's dead silent.

× × ×

It had been days since Nightmare locked those doors — days since he had taken away your friends, taken away your family, taken away your freedom. You hadn't had anything to eat since then, the only thing entering your body being water, supplied by what you hoped was an infinite fountain in the bathroom.

The only thing you did other than figure out how to walk with that piece of wood on your leg and stare longingly out the window was scrub at your clothes in a futile attempt to get the horrid smell off. It never went away, no matter the amount of soap and the intensity you scrubbed at it with. At least there was sort of a crutch you could use to walk, a roughly hewn piece of wood level with your elbows that you found leaning against the chair.

It's when you're looking out the window that you hear hurried footsteps growing louder, urging you to get up from your chair, pulling away from the view — the sound growing closer... Closer...

The sound of locks being rapidly undone fills the room as you back into the corner, your form shrinking defensively as the great double doors burst open and you see a skeleton, just like Dream, stumble into view.

Terror was all you felt. He (you assumed) does not look friendly. Black streaks of what you guessed were tears running down his bony cheeks, eye sockets devoid of any light, the black sockets widening when they met yours — oh! There's a pinprick of white light in the left socket, the tiny light flickering in and out of existence as it almost struggled to keep itself alight. He was wearing an unzipped blue jacket with a fur hood, a black turtleneck beneath it. A mangled red thing floated in front of where his SOUL would be in his ribcage, the thing glitching and warping every now and then. Shorts covered his legs until his knees, pure white except for the streak of black running down their sides.

He steadies himself, grinning widely as his eyes narrow, full of amusement. He raises a brow bone, head (and body) tilting to one side, a bony hand adorned with a black fingerless glove coming up to cradle his chin.

"what do we have here...?" His low, pondering voice is full of mirth, its cheerfulness unexpected to be found in a place like this.

You're shaking as his face scrunches in concentration, probably deciding whether or not to kill you.

"a... human?" His tone is confused, no doubt about the fact that Nightmare, the big scary bad guy, keeping a random human in (what is basically) his attic.

Your voice wasn't used to talking, having not been used for far too long.

"I'm... Yeah." It hurts to force the words out as you avert your eyes, choosing instead to stare intensely at the floor as the skeleton stands up straight from the corner of your vision. He walks towards you, his strides long and sure, extending a hand for you to take and leaving it hanging in the air.

Silence.

Then,

"don't you know how to greet a new pal?"

Hesitantly, you bring a hand up to his, shrieking and nearly fainting when a loud fart noise erupted from where they contacted.

He laughs, throwing his head up and grinning wide as the low baritone fills the room and vibrates your bones.

Wiping away the black tears, he looks back at you when his laughter subsides.

"heheh... the old whoopee-cushion-in-the-hand trick. it's always funny."

He tilts his head again.

"a human, huh? that's hilarious. i'm—"

"KILLER!"

Undoubtedly, that was Nightmare's voice, full of rage.

There's a loud stomping as his feet climb up the stairs, growing louder every second. The skeleton's, who you now knew as Killer, eyes widen in alarm, panic evident on his features.

When Nightmare finally reaches the entrance to the room, he's furious. His eye is narrowed, nearly closed, his white teeth set in a hard frown, displeasure written all over his features. His tentacles were spread behind him, writhing, making him look much bigger than he actually was.

It's nearly impossible to not run and jump out the window right there and then.

But the moment he lays his eye on you, he visibly relaxes, shoulders drooping and brow bones unfurrowing just a little, the tentacles appearing to soften as their movements stilled. He stares at you for a few moments too long before begrudgingly dragging his eye back to Killer, the irritated expression appearing once more.

"Leave. Now." Killer comically salutes at Nightmare's order, sweat beading down his forehead as he makes a break for it, the suspicious sound of someone falling down stairs echoing through the stairwell.

Nightmare's tentacles gently close the doors as he makes his way to you, steps confident, hands behind his back.

When he reaches for you, he tilts your head up to meet his eyes and presses his white teeth to your forehead, dripping the black sludge all over you. The rumbling starts anew from within his hollow ribcage, the warm sound loud enough to echo through yours. He brushes a hand down the side of your face, tender and loving, before he pulls you into a crushing hug, tentacles encircling you, pressing the air — and your cries — out of your lungs.

Petting your hair, he says, "You have no idea how much I've missed you, my love."

He shudders as you shake in his arms, pulling you even closer — as if you weren't close enough — and trembling, his shoulders rising up and down with each shaky breath he took.

After too long, he releases you, bending down to your height.

The tentacles feel your skin as he stares lovingly into your eyes, analyzing the faraway look in them with hands behind his back. As he does so, that SOUL-shaped eyelight comes back, beating and alive.

"Shall you eat? I believe your punishment has been sufficient."

The thought of food makes you salivate as you try to remember the last thing you ate, struggling. It has been far too long since you had eaten.

Upon seeing the look on your face, he grins thinly with a lidded eye, tilting his head a little and raising a brow bone.

"Hungry, doll?"

You look at him for a second before nodding your head frantically.

He pulls away, tentacles reluctantly leaving your form as he walks to the door, chuckling as he looks over his shoulder at you, saying,

"I'll be back, darling."

His tentacles unwillingly leave the room just before the door closes with a click, locking them.

You wait patiently at the little table in your room, busying yourself with studying the intricate engravings in the black glass, the swirls reminding you of how those black apples looked like, winding and twisting into infinity.

The door's locks click open one after another before eventually the doors themselves open slowly, drawing your attention to them as Nightmare emerges holding two hotdogs.

"I... Apologise for the quality of your food. This was the only thing those fools could prepare quickly."

He scowls at nothing in particular.

You practically fall out of your chair in your haste, snatching a hot dog from Nightmare's hand and shoving it down your throat.

It was absolutely heavenly, the flavour exploding in your mouth as you swallow bite after bite.

It's gone in a minute.

You're satisfied; full, as you sigh in contentment, leaning back in your chair.

Nightmare looks at you fondly, gaze softening once he catches a glimpse of yours, the thin grin he wore growing warm upon seeing your happiness.

Placing the other hotdog on the table, he saunters to where you stood, proceeding to smooth your hair, bringing a chunk of it up to his nose and shakily taking a deep breath, basking in the scent of you. He stares at you as he does so, his piercing teal eye making you uncomfortable as his tentacles make their way around you, entwining themselves around your arms and finding their way between your fingers.

A crash comes from beyond the door, Nightmare's calm expression vanishing in an instant as an irate one replaces it.

"And that would be... Forgive me, my dear, but I must leave now."

Holding your head with a hand and brushing your cheek with his thumb, he pulls the tentacles away and turns, quietly closing the double doors and locking them securely.

He left the other hot dog.

You stare, once more, into the distance from the glass window open wide, looking at nothing in particular.

You go to the bathroom, intending to freshen up (you feel horrible), washing your face with the cool water. Looking into the ornate mirror, you see a tired reflection staring back at you, eyes bearing dark circles and your hair untidy and unkempt. You don't remember having any good sleep. It was always the hunger, pressing into your stomach and sending waves of need through you, or the nightmares you always had every night, making you wake up in a cold sweat.

Well, at least the stars were always there, blinking and twinkling back at you as you vent your frustrations, as if trying to comfort you. You'd talk to them more often than not — and when the moon was out, you'd talk to that as well.

The following morning, there was a knocking on your door.

You weren't doing much; just staring out the window as usual. A knock meant food—!

The door opens slowly, a black tentacle making its way in, then another, then another, until Nightmare was standing in your doorway, clutching a plate of what looked like stir-fried hot dog sausages with bread, as well as what you assumed was a sandwich.

Nightmare walks to where you sat on your chair, placing the plate of food on the table in front of you, kneeling to your height. When you look at him, he's just staring at you, teal eyelight boring a hole through you as you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

His black, bony hand comes up to your face, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. He sighs longingly, watching you squirm in your seat as he intrudes more and more into your personal space. He's nearly sitting on your lap now, arms on both of the armrests. he traps you in your chair with his tentacles and arms acting as the bars to your cage. You swallow, averting your gaze as he brings his face close to yours and kisses your forehead lightly, reluctantly pulling back as he heaves a long sigh, eye socket still firmly shut in euphoria.

When he pulls his body away to admire you, you see that his teal eyelight is a SOUL again, beating to the rhythm of something that wasn't there, replaced by an inky black apple. He brings his hands off the armrests as you sigh, relieved, before Nightmare immediately picks you up from the seat and sits in it himself, settling you into his lap, arms securely wrapped around your waist.

He leans his head against your shoulder as he sighs once more, staring at you, leaning more heavily.

He moves, resting his head against the top of yours, the rumbling starting once more as his tentacles wrap around your arms and he delicately laces your fingers with his.

You stay in that position for too long, and you had a feeling that he wouldn't have left if there was no shout of his name from beyond the door.

That was almost always how he left, reluctantly leaving your side as the tentacles trailed off of you, locking the doors.

You ate your food, the hot dogs criminally unseasoned, then spend the rest of the day until lunch staring out the window or scrubbing at your clothes.

The sandwich wasn't the best, but it wasn't the worst, either. Just a simple grilled cheese. A pretty filling lunch.

When evening rolls around, you shower before Nightmare enters the room once more, this time holding a plate of fried rice.

"Freshened up, I see?" He looks you up and down, seeing how the clothes he chose for you fit you. They were soft cotton, a lovely cream-coloured nightgown that fell halfway to your ankles.

He sits down in the chair, his tentacles coiling around your arms and dragging you to him, where he forces you to sit in his lap. And there he stays, for an indefinite amount of time, resting his head against the top of yours as the rumbling shook your body, tentacles and arms wrapped around you tightly.

Every minute or so, he'd bring a hand from your waist to your cheek, brushing it down the soft skin of your face gently, sighing.

Of course, there came the shouts.

The tentacles' movements stiffened, his whole body going rigid.

He attempted to ignore it before the shouts came again, louder and more urgent.

He stands up, you in his arms, and lays you gently down in the chair.

He caresses your cheek again before excusing himself.

You ate the fried rice, also criminally unseasoned, and brushed your teeth before going to bed.

And that was the routine.

Every morning, Nightmare would come in bearing your breakfast and a packed lunch. He'd hug you for a while, petting your hair and kissing you, but would leave quickly, saying he had "important business" to attend to as the shouts would grow louder and louder.

Every night, he'd come again, delivering your dinner, and would hug you in bed, whispering sweet nothings into deaf ears. He'd sleep with you sometimes, caging you against him, though you always complained of the wet and cold, of the muck that coated every inch of his body. This also meant you never really slept with him as much as he slept with you.

Nightmare was the only social interaction you had ever since being taken here, other than the stars and the moon — and though they never replied to you, it was comforting, in some strange way, to not hear them speak. It was almost as if they weren't judging you, acting simply as a listening ear. On occasion, you'd hear the melancholy melody of a song, the gentle plucking of strings soothing to your ears.

This cycle went on for a long while — you couldn't tell how long, the minutes blended into hours and the hours blended into days — until you decided to try something. That morning when he came in, placing your food on the small table, you fall to your knees, pressing tightly clenched hands firmly to your forehead, praying this would work.

You bow your head a little.

"Please, Nightmare. Let me out. Even for a moment." Your voice wavered — a shaky, miserable version of your usually sunny tone, full of pleading and a need to get out.

Nightmare takes in a breath sharply, tentacles' movements stilling as the sound of your soft voice cut through the still air. There's a long silence, before—

"That's more like it."

Looking up from beneath your lashes and through your fingers, you see Nightmare leering at you through a half-lidded eye socket, that SOUL shape having returned once more, beating fervently. His hands and tentacles were behind his back, merely appearing to be calm — but his shuddering breaths and tense shoulders gave away his intense elation, anticipating more.

"Alright then, doll." You look up at him, excitement flowing freely through your veins.

"On one condition."

He stares at you, half-lidded eye socket full of a sadistic excitement as his tentacles squirm and slither excitedly.

"Anything."

You say as you stare right back, hopeful eyes wide. He takes a hand from behind his back, and from within the muck that made up his hand, he produces a... Bracelet...?

...

Oh.

It was a pair of long chain handcuffs made out of black steel.

Nightmare grins at you, eye socket narrowing in delight at the expression on your face — a mix of shock, fear, surprise, and regret.

You stare, dumbfounded, as he fastens one cuff to his left hand, looking at you expectantly. It's barely a second before you scramble off the floor and offer your right hand to him all too willingly, his tentacles bringing you closer to him.

The cuff fastens with a click, securing you to him.

He leads you to the door, your freedom—!

And proceeds to pick you up bridal-style, carrying you effortlessly down the stone steps, your body bouncing up and down with each step he took.

The spiral stairs felt like they went on for forever, more steps always waiting whenever Nightmare turned the corner.

There was a deafening silence that blanketed the air around you, all quiet except for the sound of Nightmare's muck falling off his non-existent bones to the cold stone steps.

The smell of moss and dampness fills your nose as you wrinkled it, getting closer to the exit as you began to wriggle in Nightmare's grip.

"Okay! Nightmare—"

He stops abruptly, the chain that bound him to you making a gentle tinkling as it flew about in the air.

There's a creaking of a great door, and—!

You scramble out of Nightmare's grip as you practically bound down the black halls of the castle, forgetting about the handcuff until you're stopped short by it, the sharp, cold metal digging into your wrist and making you cry out. You cradle your wrist as Nightmare calmly walks to where you stand in pain, hands behind his back.

He watches with a disgusting pleasure as his grin widens, the tentacles' movements growing until they're sending black muck flying everywhere in ink-black droplets.

He was everything but calm, regardless of how he appeared.

"Be careful, doll."

He leans down to your height and takes the hand the cuff is fastened around, lowering the black steel and licking the abrasion, sending shivers down your spine.

He licks the bone around his mouth, his eye socket half-lidded and content — but with undertones of want, a beast-like hunger set in his teal eye light.

"You could get hurt."

You snatch your hand away from him, wiping the black saliva that coated it onto your shirt as Nightmare just laughed, maintaining full eye contact with you as his mouth opened wide and peals of laughter took silence's place in the air.

He turns on his heel and pulls harshly against the chain, making you jerk in his direction before begrudgingly walking alongside him.

Your steps echo through the empty castle halls as you stare at the great stained glass windows portraying stories of him and Dream through their life. On the left were portrayals of mostly Dream, typically him and Nightmare spending time together.

The windows slowly but surely lost Nightmare altogether, becoming images of Dream helping people or fighting them.

On the right side, Nightmare dominated the stained glass, the same images being present at the start, though his side just got darker and darker until Dream was gone. Every single one of them portrayed him destroying something, whether it be people or whole worlds, from what you could understand.

You're only pulled out of the story when you round a corner and the stained glass disappears, replaced with an ornate door.

He pushes them open, and the sight of a thousand books greets your eyes, every single one of them settled nicely into beautiful wooden bookshelves. There were soft woollen carpets on the floor, lounge chairs and coffee tables strewn about. Ladders leaned against the tall shelves, lined with silver.

You stare with eyes full of wonder while Nightmare watches you, a content smile on his face.

"You like it, doll?" He looks down at you, his hands behind his back.

You don't answer, instead choosing to run to the shelves and skim the names, choosing one to read.

[scatterpatter]

MEGAMAN FANS HOW WE FEELIN-

[xxplastic-cubexx]

WAIT WAIT WAIT CHERIK MPREG IS CANON

i cannot stress enough how canon cherik mpreg is, yes my friend

[elvisqueso]

Times they had to say goodbye — [3/4]

Pocahontas (1995)

[missr3n3]

tomorrow :)

[sylphwing]

pikmin funeral 🤧🤧

[blkkizzat]

Lol so idk if anyone else who writes has a fic that lives in their head RENT FREE. But Ghostface!Choso is literally my Roman Empire.

Lmfao playing Mudae on our server I FINALLY got my wish of Ghostface and made him into Ghostface!Choso cause thats how down bad I am. Cause Ghostface is always Choso to me now FOREVER

[jrueships]

anybody else have a food they're allergic to but still eat anyway

[ambersky0319]

guess who didnt realize/forgot others could see their profile on roommate websites and got messaged by someone asking if i was still looking for a room when i dont actually plan on moving until much later this year 🙃

[vvelegrin]

okay. gonna go settle down and break in my new craft area that i put together this week. i will work on some writing. and maybe start a new whittling project.

[bobtheacorn]

Fun new PMS symptom that no one on earth asked for ever: PANIC Attack!!!!!!!

[sherlock-is-ace]

i long for the day i get to finish a writing project... I'm desperate to write a short story or something that has the ending in sight, but my stupid ass brain won't stop making every story so convoluted and long that i know i will lose motivation before ever finishing it...

please brain let me come up with a fun story with a simple beginning, middle and end PLEASE

[kurthorton-moving]

I think im gonna. Revamp the way i do tumblr a lil bit

[libartz]

Cons of redeeming miraak:

-hard, requires effort and thought

-uncomfy

-don’t know enough about him to get specific- see con 1

-he’s kind of a dick

-he’s an actual threat

-Perlas has enough to deal with managing two factions and five kids

Pros:

-It gives me the idea juice

[missr3n3]

finally got around to doing these "your oc" templates! original linked under the cut:

[deityofhearts]

I gotta figure out what to do with my hair