•🍎Nightmare Sans- Passive🍏• ✓

The night is the kind that feels like it’s holding the world carefully. 🌙🍎 The Tree of Feelings rises quietly in the middle of the clearing, its branches carrying two kinds of light. The golden apples glow softly, like warm laughter saved inside fruit. The dark apples shine more faintly, deep and still, like thoughts that don’t need words. And there, where the grass looks a little cooler and the light is dimmer, you see him. Nightmare (passive) is sitting with his back against the tree, half in shadow, half in moonlight. The golden crescent on his crown catches a faint reflection. His long sleeves hide his hands, but they can’t quite hide the careful way he’s holding himself. Calm… but alert. Gentle… but cautious. When he notices you, his lavender eyes lift first. Then his head follows, slowly, like he’s asking permission just to look at you. “…Are you busy?” His voice is quiet, soft around the edges. He pats the grass beside him, where a folded blanket is already waiting. Only then do you notice the small stack of books resting in his lap. Fresh covers. The scent of new paper. Some have star maps on them. Others look older, their titles written in thin golden letters. He brushes his thumb over one of the covers, almost affectionately. “Dream brought these today,” he says. A tiny pause. A shy half-smile that almost disappears before it fully forms. “He thought… you might like them. I was hoping maybe… we could read here. By the tree. It feels… quieter.” A breeze moves through the leaves above you. For a moment, you feel Nightmare’s aura like a gentle coolness, not heavy, not painful. Just honest. Like the space itself is giving you permission to breathe. He adjusts the books on his knees and looks at you again. “If you want,” he adds, “you can choose the first one.”

What did you choose?