#horror stories for bedtime

[what-if-i-was-a-book]

I'm telling my little siblings a short version of tgcf, as a bedtime story. I'm trying to um, gloss over the gory parts, but I'm not sure this was the best idea...

It started with my brother crying on a pillow, so I told him about how the tears make it look like the pillow has a face, then I remembered the Human Face Disease and told him about that, which I admit was really stupid on my part, and so he started crying even harder, so I had to assure him that it was just a curse and got cured.

My sister was like, just like that? Cured? How? So I offered to tell them the story from the start, and that's how we got here.

[corvidaeconundrum]

A very very work in progress wip I wanted to share that im not that proud of but I have nothing else to offer rn lol(@mustangs-flames :3)

[gethesemane]

ao3 not now, please come back from the war

[myrquez]

imagine vale riding with the boys at the ranch. and suddenly you he notices. it’s very subtle. you have to really focus to notice it in real time without telemetry. but it’s there. a subtle difference in the way bezz is braking. and he KNOWS that braking approach and style. he’d know it anywhere. he spent years observing it.

and now he’s trying not to fall of the bike when the realisation hits him. marc is ruining his favourite daughter

oh DEAR. this is what he has being seeing in his nightmares every night since he was a young newly christened father and franco just a little baby on a minibike. every. night. even now. it still haunts him. and when it happens, again, he knows. and this breaks him.

what he has to do now. scream? cry? revoke the left earring privilege? reenact the whole little mermaid’s but daddy i love him scene with him? call a priest?

or just pulling a valentino rossi psychological warfare on him and tell him he sucks. that left hand corner was shit. even luca on a honda could ride it faster than him. even giulietta on a trycicle could rode into that corner better than him. find yourself again marco this isn’t YOU

[s7ieben]

Trick or treat

Who is hiding inside the forest? Who is hiding under the red coat?

ink on paper – drawing – 21 x 29 cm

S7IEBEN.art RedBubble

[unboxedscoundrel]

My favorite horror Podcast Bingo

I think every podcast I've fallen in love with has at least one bingo

please recommend me more I always need more queer horror in my life

[nomsfaultau]

Daily ask №27!

Turn the lights off x Fault edition because why not!

For context TTLO is my unpublished fic that I'm working on. The main plot is that Tommy accidentally gets into the cryptid world where he meets new friends and uncovers the truth about his past.

1. In TTLO cryptids are people who have died in some unusual way and then stayed in the community's memory as folklore, cautionary tales, etc. After some emotions and belief are poured into them, they reappear as monsters aka cryptids. That could include anything from vampires to sirens to a girl who cut their head open on a rock and emerged as some mushroom monstrosity. Now that that's out of the way, what sort of cryptids would Fault characters be, if they were one?

2. What sort of a cryptid would YOU be? On that note, I might've made you canon in TTLO for the funsies. You're a mute author who lived in the main town quite some years ago, but one time the town's connection to the other towns got temporarily cut off for whatever reason and with that, a paper and ink shortage happened. You, due to not being able to express your stories and ideas, went completely mad and wrote all over your walls with blood. And died shortly. Now you're chilling in the cryptid world. Thoughts?

3. Do you have any fic ideas that you really enjoy but don't even try to fulfil because you know you won't be able to? Share 'em!

4. How would YOU like to mess up my story if you got the chance to enter it? Yk how I interact with the Fault characters but in reverse. Go on, cause chaos.

5. Would you actually be interested in me ranting about TTLO? Not in asks, of course, just in general? °👉👈°

Philza.

There’s an old man who lives at the edge of town. Been there far longer than you or me, and some say our grandparents could claim the same, and so could theirs. His smile is meltingly warm, but something ain’t right. Might be the look in his eyes, distant, like he’s lookin at a memory instead of you. Might be the crows that always circle over head, like they know he’s already decomposing. The old man’s nice enough folk if you ever talk, but don’t ever linger too long. Not that you’ll run out of welcome; it’s the opposite you best be worrying about with that one. Every few years a kid gets too curious, gets taken underwing by the old man. He collects the oddballs, the ones who don’t quite fit in. Always young, always someone who won’t be missed. The kids who go to him look happier but…only for a little while. Hard to smile when you’re gone. Anderson was the most recent, good head on that one. He is going big places one of these days. Or was. Now his only destination is 6 feet under. And the old man? Well. There’s a young man who lives at the edge of town. Been there far longer than you or me, and some say our grandparents could claim the same, and so could theirs. 

Wilbur. 

Nobody looks the homeless in the eyes. Fingers drumming on dashboards, pinned on stoplights and passengers and mirrors and anywhere but the man on the street corner whistling for loose coins. Nobody looks the homeless in the eyes, and so no one sees when the winter hollows them out to something hopeless. No one sees when starvation claws out everything inside until all that’s left is hunger, hunger, hunger. No one sees when life leaves those eyes. No one sees. Today there was a new stranger in town. It doesn’t draw more than glances despite being a head taller than the crowd. No one can bear to look the new stranger in the eyes. Maybe he doesn’t have any. But the town does notice when people begin to go missing, if only because these ones were important enough for their deaths to matter. The new stranger doesn’t beg like the others do. He doesn’t need to. The new stranger whistles a jaunty tune as it drifts in and out of so-called society, its lips stained with blood. 

The Blade. 

A good soldier never falters, never loses, never ceases. They say he was the best soldier, once. The war was a brutal one, long and cruel. Maybe there was honor in it, maybe there wasn’t. It doesn’t matter so much when there’s an enemy before you and a threat to your life. It matters even less when you’re losing. The fort was over run, the flag long since ripped down. His fellow warriors bled out in messy, unremarkable ways. Sudden, with no time to mourn or care, as if they weren’t his brothers in arms. The invading army was taking prisoners if you lay down your weapons and accepted indignity. Not for a second did he consider surrender, though there wasn’t a hope of surviving when outnumbered twenty to one. But a good soldier never falters. They say he was the best soldier, once. He did not hesitate, throwing himself at the next foe, and the next, fighting tooth and nail. One man can’t take on an army, but he tried. The soldier fought day and night. It was not an enemy that laid him low but the collapsing of his own exhausted body. Sleep claimed him once and for all. But a good soldier never loses. They say he was the best soldier, once. So he simply picked himself back up and continued until panting and soaked in viscera he alone stood in the husk of the ravaged fortress. And yet, he had not yet won. A soldier’s duty does not end with one battle. One man can’t take on a war, but he did. The soldier hunted down every last opponent, a wave of slaughter shredding through battalions until the brutal was over. But what is a soldier during peace? Nothing. Relentlessly, the soldier continues to wage war upon any and all he encounters, prowling the wilderness and waiting for the next fight. Because a good soldier never ceases. They say he was the best soldier, once. They don’t say what he is now. 

Tubbo.

You hear about Rhodes’ kid? Shame. Damn shame. Such a sweet kid, friendly. Too friendly. Got drawn in like a moth to flame with those- well, I mean cult’s strong language and I don’t want to tread on toes with whose god is right, but…mm. Bad sorts. Sweet as honey, sure, but I had a feeling in my gut it was going to break bad when the kid started hanging around at their church meetings. Should’ve opened my mouth, but you know how desperate they were for friends. You remember the news article, right? How many pieces did they find the kid in again? Somethin like four hundred thousand? Huh. Well all I’ll say -and you don’t tell Rhodes this yah hear? He don’t need no more heart break. But I don’t see how the cops figured out it was them. And- and you really can’t repeat I said this- but I could’ve sworn I saw his kid today, handing out fliers for that cult like they weren’t all arrested years ago. Hey! I know they’re dead! And yet…well. Couldn’t’ve been anyone else. Maybe it’s nothing, Mrs. Fletcher, but I saw Jasmine talkin to them, and- and has she come back from school yet? …oh. Maybe we should round up the search party. Better safe than sorry. 

Tommy. 

They had to chain the door to the water tower, though it’s far too late. Not that anybody lives in the surrounding town anymore despite all the new vacancies; they say the tap still tastes of iron. The chain is bulky and intimidating, but everyone knows it was locked before too and it didn’t save anyone. If anything it makes it a challenge, and all the threatening signs they put up after would only tempt more dares from reckless teens if the town still had those. It had to have been a dare gone wrong. Had to be. Because otherwise that meant there was someone in town who’d drag a teenager all the way up a water tower just to drown him, and nobody could handle the thought. The faucets ran red for weeks after. The health officials swore up and down it was safe despite the color. Maybe they were right. Maybe what happened after had nothing at all to do with the dead kid, but nobody really believes that. Because even if no one held that kid down thrashing and gurgling, surely there was someone to blame. Everyone, maybe. The friends who pressured him to climb up, the parents who didn’t enforce curfew, the maintenance worker who forgot to lock the facility. Each dragged out, their every flaw magnified and contorted into something intolerable. The lucky were ran out of town mottled with bruises. The justice didn’t stop there, of course. Onto the bully who must’ve driven the teen to it, the neighbor who could’ve warned the parents when he snuck out of the house, the passerby who might’ve seen them crossing the street. Fewer and fewer survived the trials, the fingers pointed at one another quick to turn into claws. It spiraled out into uncontrolled accusations, mobs descending upon any and all and soon unraveling into pure anarchy. The town ripped itself apart. Literally, viscerally. The rivers ran scarlet with their blood, staining the banks and their hands. It couldn't be helped. The town had developed a taste for blood. 

brooo your world building is so sickkkkk ahhh.

2.Yeah that’s probably how I go out tbh. I’d not be functional without the ability to write or draw. Hope someone at least copied down the bloody words otherwise that was waste of time smh. Some people just don’t appreciate the fact that the ~5 liters of blood the average person has doesn’t actually go that far. 

And God already assigned me vampire for my monstersona. But a couple years ago I had a dream about a fallen angel who was deeply in denial about it. They were a thick ring of white feathers and periodic wings covered in golden eyes that wept as they were forced to confront the fact that the human world was soon to be invaded by demons, and the forces of hell would be slaughtered. So like ideal bod am I right gamers. 

3.Not a fic, but a game. Multiple endings. Had it before SBI, but more vague notions in the years I’ve had it. Starts with Phil moving into a new house. Some clear trauma hidden, world building set up. Then teen hero Tommy stumbles into his house suffering a concussion, thinking it’s his house. Real bad off. Phil helps him out natch, ends up with a bleeding kid asleep on his couch and is just trying to cope with that. When Tommy gets better he’s freaked out and defensive and runs away immediately. But also…now he knows someone who can do stitches. And so the next time is weeks later and he’s dragging in a hissing and panicking fellow teen hero, who is far less okay with a civilian knowing they’re hurt and possibly learning their identity. Cue Phil beginning to run into more and more teen heroes and slowly earning their trust. It’s mostly about picking the right dialogue to build up rapport, though with some minigames for things like giving the kids medical aid, getting them the right presents that are helpful for either vigilante or civilian life, and making tasty food to fill their scrappy bodies and win them over. It is very, very difficult though. 

Cause like. The reason they’re all kids is because heroes kinda don’t last long enough to become adults? It’s a very gritty setting, focusing on the factors that drive kids of all different backgrounds into becoming heroes and the poor ways they cope with the pressure. With Tommy it’s like a sanctioned way to get out his anger issues and receive adoration. Techno’s dead parents were villains so he feels like he has to prove he isn’t like them bc of societal pressure. Probably in foster care, so it’ll be time consuming to try and adopt him. Tubbo was meant to be a sidekick but got shoved into the role, technically with the support of a hero agency but there’s way too much pressure to fill an adult role. It’s a toxic situation, but Tubbo is convinced he has to do this to save everyone (but himself) and the heroes have enough power to make things very difficult for Phil if he tries to help Tubbo too much. Niki is absolutely seething about the state of things, and is honestly more a vigilante because she refuses to sit back on corrupt ‘good guy’ practices. She’s homeless, but wary of any authority figures so has to warm up to consider crashing at Phil’s. Stuff like that idk its very nebulous and I’m kinda making stuff up rn. Thoughts about abusive parents, or parents that force into the good hero role in a perfectionist way (Ranboo maybe?), maybe a kid starting villainy? It’s a very extended cast thing. 

Some are way more trusting, others have bad experiences with adults, others think Phil is a civilian and so needs to shut up and be protected. Bonding scenes like helping protect a secret identity, or distracting a villain in a fight, or patching up wounds, or baking to keep up with superhero metabolisms, or giving life advice (be it for prom date or nemesis). Phil is running around herding cats and lots of the time supporting one means others might not stay safe. Also Phil in the past got like ptsd from a villain attack and so has to deal with his own problems, idk details. And also finds out his corporate job is helping the BBEG uh oh. Phil probably get kidnapped to draw out all the heroes to save him. Or, well, the ones with negative relationships are unlikely to help, making it harder for the rest to succeed. 

The endings come into play considering how many kids you’ve managed to take care of/win the trust of/get to safer situations. Some are far far harder to convince to trust Phil, or may be down but Phil’s ability to help may be limited. Essentially, the higher the relationship bars are with everyone the better the ending. Neutral or negative relationships lead to stuff like injuries or deaths, though not necessarily related to the kid with the low stats always. Cause obviously you’d care more about the kids that you went through the effort of getting their routes right. So it could be like a teammate failed to help, or they weren’t able to cohesively function as a group, or Phil hadn’t knocked in enough sense to stop being self sacrificial/more invested in taking the villain down than making sure no one’s hurt, or the kid that could’ve dragged the injured one to get healed by Phil didn’t trust him and the injured hero died without medical intervention. With better endings being very difficult since a lot of the kids have conflicting needs and you’d have to play like perfectly to get even good stats with everyone (impossible to max out everyone). But that leads to things like no one getting hurt, and progressing to getting kids with the highest stats into safer lives thereafter and more support for others.

4.I don’t know too much, but based on the world building I would try to disrupt all the folklore that the characters survive off of. Make like a youtube/podcast debunking all the myths, get hella famous, and do everything I can to disrupt the word of mouth belief that the cryptids rely on. In the human world I'm hailed as fighting disinformation. In the cryptid world I'm like thanos probably.

5.I am SO DOWN oh my God yes please. 

[sleepy-harper]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59443909

sleeping in

wc: 9.6k

jake & helena agere fic!! cw for themes of depression & grief, contents included are: bathing, crying, hurt/comfort, first time cg!jake & little!helena :3

took me a few weeks 2 write, hope it's okay!!!

[dreamypqulson]

you’re fighting an apocalypse with cordelia when she hears you scream. she tries to remain calm as she searches around for you. that’s when she spots you laying on the ground, covered in blood. she rushes over to you, tugs your body onto her lap and holds you close. you struggle to catch your breath but still manage to speak, “cordelia, kiss me. please kiss me. i cannot die without showing you what you truly mean to me.” she hovers her hand over your bleeding wound and you can feeling her magic course through you. although she was exhausted from fighting, she used all the strength she had left to heal you. “you’re not going to die, my love,” she says, but still, she leans down and kisses your aching lips anyways.

[topazshadowwolf]

GoopTales: Part 17

Time for the kids to go to bed. (again... but this time in their room)

Parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17(you are here)

AO3: Ch 1 (1-4), Ch 2 (4-8), Ch 3 (9-12), Ch 4 (13-16)

---

The bedrooms the boys usually slept in were close to his chambers but not right next door. They were in the same hall, just further down and clustered together. They chose them like mildly rebellious teenagers who wanted to strike out on their own while only moving a block away. With them currently being so small, Nightmare didn’t want them even that far away. Besides, their rooms were far too much of a mess as well. (Except for Cross’ room, but that is beside the point.)

No, Nightmare wanted these younger versions of his boys closer to his room and in a cleaner space. Also, with how clingy they were towards each other, they would be best all together in one room versus separated in four different ones like normal.

So he picked a room right next to his. While Lyra got them washed up for the night, he got the room ready for them. Their favorite blankets he did fetch from their rooms with pictures or other items each boy seemed fond of. They might not remember these objects, but if those items bring any amount of comfort, then the effort is worth it. As he was doing this, it was starting to hit him.

Obviously, he knew and understood what happened, but all this time, he had been reacting to the situation. He did ponder it before… but as he was setting up a room for them, the realness of this was sinking further in. He sat on a chair he set near the bed to read from as he needed a moment to settle the complex feelings within him.

This evening had been nice. They ate dinner together, played a board game, and enjoyed each other's company. But the fact is that his boys were different. As enjoyable as this afternoon and evening were, he wanted the adults back. He even missed the chaos of them. He would know they were alright if they were their true selves again. Additionally, they would know who he was and not be wondering why they couldn’t go home.

(Except for Dust, that one could use being raised by him. A far better option than his actual childhood.)

But even the adult Dust he sorely missed.

“Here we are!” Said Lyra as she guided the boys into the room. They were all dressed for bed and looking around with wide, bright sockets.

“wow! we get to sleep here?!” Killer asked as he looked up at Lyra.

“Yes, you do! It is the room Mr. Night chose for you to sleep in. Was that nice of him?” She asked.

“yes!” Cross replied as he then ran in and over to the bed. 

It was a tall bed, so Nightmare had put a step stool for the children to use. Cross, though, being the adventurous child he is, decided to disregard the stool and try climbing up on his own. The heavy emotions Nightmare had been feeling were replaced by amusement as he watched the child struggle to climb up to the top.

“Do you want help, Cross?” Nightmare asked.

“mm, nah… i got… it,” Cross huffed as he finally squirmed and pulled his way up.

“oh! I wanna try!” Killer said as he started climbing.

Horror used the step stool and then helped Dust up as well. They sat on the bed, watching Killer struggle his way up and join Cross in laying on his back and catching his breath.

Breath finally caught, Cross sat up and smiled at Nightmare, “thank you, mr. night!”

“what… he said,” Killer wheezed.

Horror and Dust also said their thank yous, though Dust’s was more mumbled than anything. He picked up one of the books Lyra had previously bought and opened it. The story was very… simple… so was the wording. He frowned for a moment and then looked at the Toriel in question. “This is really meant for children?”

“Well… yes,” She replied, looking confused.

“There is nothing here to challenge the mind,” He stated with a frown.

“They are getting ready for bed, not school. You can read something to offer a challenge in the morning. For now, a simple story, with a simple moral, is best for sleeping,” She explained, and Nightmare had to admit that made sense. Still, he had been reading far more advanced books when he was just a little older than them.

“i wanna be challenged!” Killer protested.

“what kind of challenge?” Cross asked as he sat up. “is it a test of strength?”

“or speed?” Killer asked.

“It is a test to see,” Lyra started, but Nightmare could see the nervousness in Dust’s eyelights.

“Not a test,” Nightmare said quickly to cut off. “Also, no challenges tonight. What Lyra was saying is right. You four need sleep.”

“but i don’t wanna,” Killer huffed.

“Well, if you do not sleep, then you will not be able to do anything fun tomorrow,” Nightmare stated flatly.

“what?! why not?!” Killer then demanded, sitting up, “that’s mean! why won’t you let me do anything fun tomorrow just for not sleeping?”

“It will not be me not letting you. It will be you being too tired to do anything fun,” Nightmare replied. He then mused and set the book aside. “I think I have the perfect story for the night. It is one that actually happened, and I was there to see.”

“Did it happen last week?” Killer asked.

“Longer than that,” Nightmare replied.

“Last month?” Cross then asked, wanting to join in this game.

“Longer,” Nightmare answered.

Horror was now curious and spoke up, “two years ago?”

“Still longer,” Nightmare replied.

“how old are you, mr. night?” Dust asked quietly.

“I am both very old and not at the same time,” Nightmare answered, “Now, will you let me tell my story?”

“how can you be very old and not very old?” Killer asked.

“are you like the boss monsters? they stop aging unless they have kids.” Horror asked.

“We are like that, yes,” Lyra replied. She then smiled at Nightmare. “I will go clean up and let you tell your story.”

She left the room, and he stood and readjusted the blankets. As Nightmare tucked them each in, he started his story. “Settle in, comfy cozy, as they say. Now, once upon a time, a very long time ago, there was a tiny sun and a tiny moon. They were brothers, and they got along very well, sharing what they had and protecting a great planet that was their mother.”

Killer gasped quietly and whispered, “i love space!”

“shhh,” Replied Horror.

“Now the sun was always bright and happy, and all the mortals that lived on their mother were happy to see him. They were so glad to see him that one day, this tiny sun asked if he could stay up with his brother, the moon, all night long. The moon wasn’t sure if that was wise and asked the sun if he would still be able to warm the planet the next day if he did that. Too excited to think about the consequences, the sun assured the moon he could. That night, the sun played all night with the moon, and the moon had so much fun playing with his brother, the sun.

“Then the morning came, and the sun was so tired that he fell asleep. Worried for his brother, the moon tried to help, but his light wasn’t as strong as the sun’s. The mortals became cold, and that made them angry.”

“Moon!” Nightmare snapped in a more gruff voice. “Where is Sun? We need him, not you!”

The next voice he did was more youthful, and he felt odd hearing it. Still, he continued, as the children seemed happy, “I am sorry, cried Moon. I am trying my best, but my brother is tired and needs to sleep. I will help you the best I can.”

“It is your fault! You tricked him into being active at night when we need to sleep. Now, when we need his light and warmth, we are in the dark and cold! The mortals yelled at the small moon. They continued to insult and threaten the moon until he ran and hid. Soon, the sun woke, and he saw his brother was gone.”

“Sun! The mortal called, We have chased off the wicked moon who dared to steal your place.”

“This surprised the sun, and he then ran. The mortals yelled after the sun as they were left in darkness without Sun providing his light. They did not even have the tiny moon there to give his light. Still, that did not matter to Sun as he wanted to find his brother, Moon. So, he left the mortals in their darkness.

“He searched and searched, finding the small moon eventually by a stream of stardust. He apologized to the moon for breaking his promise and said that he would do his best to complete his duties so the mortals would never talk to him like that ever again.”

“did the moon forgive him?” Killer asked.

“Yes, he did,” Nightmare answered.

“the mortals should have apologized!” Cross frowned and folded his arms.

“what are mortals anyway?” Killer asked.

“i don’t know what they are either,” Cross frowned.

“None of you know what mortals are?” Nightmare asked. And all but one shook their heads. “Dust?”

“they… are any creature that can grow old and die…,” Dust said softly.

“That is correct. Humans and monsters are all mortals,” Nightmare praised.

“are there things that don’t?” Killer asked, looking at Dust.

“immortal is the word for a thing that doesn’t grow old and die,” Dust answered.

“Well done,” Nightmare nodded.

“are you in-mortal?” Cross asked Nightmare.

Killer then gasped and sat up, “is that how you’re old and not old?”

“It is pronounced immortal, but yes,” Nightmare said before he had Killer lie back to tuck him in again. “Now, we can discuss this more in the morning. Good night.”

He reached over to turn off the light when Killer whined, “don’t we get a kiss goodnight?”

“A what?” Nightmare frowned as he looked at Killer.

“dad always gives me a kiss on the head right here,” Killer pointed at a spot in the middle of his forehead. “i can’t go to sleep without it.”

“What do you mean you can’t? You did last night,” Nightmare corrected.

“that was a slumber party, that’s different,” Killer whined.

“Is this not also, in a way, a ‘slumber party?’” Nightmare frowned.

“nuh-uh! this is different,” Killer frowned and folded his arms.

“slumber parties have games, and you stay up late and watch movies and stuff,” Cross explained.

“this is ‘mommy and daddy wanna do fun stuff without the kids, so we have to go to bed when they want,’” Killer huffed, and Horror snorted back a laugh.

“what?! what kinda fun stuff do they do?” Cross said while looking shocked at the idea that what Killer said could be true.

“stuff that isn’t even fun, like kissing,” Killer complained.

“If kissing is an issue, why are you asking for one?” Nightmare inquired.

“it’s diiiiiifferent!” Killer threw his arms up as he spoke with an exasperated tone. As annoying as this was, Nightmare could not help but find amusement. “i want a bedtime kiss. adult do gross mouth kissing!” Killer frowned and glared at the ceiling as he folded his arms again.

“ewww, do they brush their teeth first?” Cross asked.

“i don’t think they do since they just kiss each other on the lips. or teeth for skeletons or non-lip monsters,” Horror added.

“nuh-uh! i saw some kissing before, and they were opening their mouths and-” Killer started.

“That is enough,” Nightmare interjected as this was getting out of hand. He highly doubted he would hear the end of this if he didn’t surrender to Killer’s demands. “Here,” he said as he bent over and kissed Kill’s forehead. Then he did the same for Cross, Horror, and Dust. “Now, go to sleep.”

“thank you, and good night, mr. night!” Killer said with a big smile before rolling to his side and closing his sockets. The others added their own thank yous and settled into bed to sleep. Nightmare turned off the light and then turned to leave. The cartoon-style dragon night light illuminated the way, even though he didn’t need it to see.

He stepped out into the hall, noticing Lyra was standing nearby as he closed the door most of the way. She leaned closer to him and said softly, “I thought I was going to have to save you.”

“You already have,” He smiled at her. “Thank you”

“I will ask you one more time. Are you sure?” She asked as she looked at him calmly. “My room is just right over there. The very room you gave me so I would feel more welcomed here. I can stay… I will stay however long you need me.”

He looked away, thinking about that. If there was no cure? What then? She would be stuck being the mother of his sons… his henchmen who would truly be his sons. No. He knows Toriel’s are motherly, but he highly doubted the boys sleeping in the room behind him were the type of children she would want to be the mother of. If he lets her stay, she will accept that fate… just as she has allowed him to cling to her.

“Lyra, I will call you when I need help, I guarantee that. But let me at least try,” He said.

She hummed softly and nodded, “Alright, I understand. They are your boys.”

Lyra then did something he did not expect as she placed her hand on his face, along his left jawline. She directed his head to tilt up as she leaned down and gently kissed his forehead. “Good night, Moonbeam.”

He blinked at her as she pulled away and gave him a mischievous smile. All the while, his mind struggled to get caught up with the act that just occurred. It took longer than it should have to register that she kissed him good night.

Not once in his long life had he ever been kissed goodnight before. And now…

Her portal was open, and she was walking towards it. His mind snapped out of its daze just in time for Nightmare to say, “Good night, Lyra.” She gave him another smile before walking through and leaving his castle.

…

Nightmare should go to his office, where he stashed the dating advice books. He was not as ready for that as he should have been. It was such a… soft and platonic kiss that it should not have startled him. Leaning against the castle wall, he sighed… it was likely just him being tired and honestly not used to acts of affection beyond initiating hugs with others.

He needed sleep… and while the boys were asleep, he should sleep too.

---

next

[gifti3]

Hilda is so brave and so cringe.

[justutter]

@JustUtter Read More!!

[pianojoy-blog]

Do I have to finish bio lab work and then go to school in the morning in a few hours? Yes. Would I rather conk out listening to Jon Sims ramble on his silly little horror podcast? Also yes.

[topmartbazaar]

The Golden Griffin's Gift The Adventures of Mr. Beast E-book

[saturnisscreaming]

Good night sleep tight DO let the bug beds bite because if they don't get you something worse will

[breakingnewstoday24ssntv-blog]

Best Stories For Kids In English ABC Zoo Moana's Ongoing Odyssey Embraci...