nightmare but he's stuck in a bottle, but he's not a genie and cross finds him
this is an eventual dadmare fic alskdjfalk
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Nightmare hated being a god. No, that wasn't the way to put it. Being a god was glorious, when you're a free one. It was being enslaved that he hated. For the millionth time in the past five minutes, Nightmare cursed his brother. Not only had this curse been cliché, it was fucking awful. The bottle was cramped, there was hardly any space to move around, and not a single mortal had found him in all his years.
This was derogatory. This particular punishment was fine-tuned to belittle gods who were faced with it. Nightmare knew several gods who'd met this fate and each one returned uttering foul words and stories of what they'd experienced. None of the stories could truly convey what it was like. It was cold. The bottle he was tied to was filthy, even filled with someone's piss at one point.
Mortals never rubbed bottles, it seemed. Nightmare scoffed at the thought. Rubbing bottles. Ridiculous. He'd been cursed with the Genie punishment for nearly, what, 15 thousand years?? At least he'd been put in a glass bottle. He remembered hearing about one god who was bound to an outhouse. That particular god had never been the same.
Nightmare couldn't remember what he'd done to be punished this way, but it didn't matter anymore. What mattered is that he got out. Except he couldn't, because he was stuck in this blasted bottle. He glared out through the murky glass, scowling at his distorted surroundings. Mortals passed along, not a single one stopping or noticing his outraged screams.
The sun sank overhead, and his bottle had not moved. Nightmare sat angrily, swearing and cursing his brother yet again. He hated this, more than words could convey.
The crowds of people thinned gradually until only one or two people would pass. Cars hummed by, rattling the rocks against the bottle and annoying Nightmare. He watched it all, his anger fading into a somber nothingness, a heavy exhaustion washing over him. He sighed, curling up as best as he could, and dozing off. Nightmare had learned to just sleep. Time passed faster when he was asleep.
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Nightmare snorted as the car sped past, leaving someone crumpled on the floor. "Moronic mortals," he muttered, scoffing as tons of people stopped to stare and did nothing to help. It would've been foolish to do anything anyway. The victim was already dead. Nightmare relaxed against the cool glass wall, sighing. Finally, something exciting happened.
Someone had called the police, at some point, because soon, the street was swarming with officers. Traffic slowed to a crawl, crowds of onlookers gathered just outside of the yellow tape, and even more people didn't even spare a glance. Typical.
Nightmare closed his eye, basking in a swirl of emotions coming from those who did care. Horror, fear, worry, shame, sadness, pity. He drank it all like a man starved of water, a grin on his face. It wouldn't be so bad to be trapped in the mortal realm if he were close to this kind of constant suffering. In fact, he could even enjoy it.
The commotion eventually calmed, and the refreshing negativity left with it. Nightmare decidedly did not pout. He glared out the glass, watching the passing people with overwhelming disinterest. It was still early in the morning. He could see younger ones dashing along, most likely either skipping their educational classes or going to said classes. Not a single one spared him a glance.
Honestly, he wasn't surprised. Mortals never seemed to care about the polluted streets. From what he'd learned these past few years, their planet was ill, and no one was willing to help. Nightmare really didn't want to be here when their world collapsed.
"GET OUTTA HERE, YOU FREAK!" Nightmare jolted, startled out of his thoughts. Someone grunted, the sound grabbing his attention. He turned around, intrigued. Bullies, perhaps? He'd seen his fair share of bullies. He always enjoyed sampling the victim's pain.
He looked around, trying to figure out where it was coming from, only to flinch as something tumbled overhead into the street. A younger mortal, not quite an adult from what Nightmare could tell, scrambling out of the way of a screeching car, stumbling back to the sidewalk. Its shoe nudged his bottle rather aggressively, and purple splattered down in drops. He stared up at the mortal, squinting at its face, jumping as something flew from out of sight right into the other's face. A bloody rock thumped on the ground beside his bottle.
The mortal jerked, ducking down to frantically gather whatever it had dropped. Apparently, that Included Nightmare's bottle. He yelled as his bottle was grabbed and roughly shoved in a sack. He shouted at the mortal, though he knew it couldn't hear him, kicking at the glass and cursing at it. He was plunged into darkness as the sack was tied shut. Furious, Nightmare screamed wordlessly. He was cut off as the sack started to jerk around violently. He slammed into the bottom of the bottle, his body stiffening before going limp, unconscious.
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"-grabbing this.." Nightmare shot up, quickly looking around. He wasn't on the street anymore, the first thing he noticed. The second, he was being held.
He whipped around, glaring up at the mortal who had the audacity to handle him in such a way. Any words died in his throat as soon as he faced it. It looked younger than he'd first thought. The mortal tilted its head, turning the bottle over in its hands, and rubbing at the lettering curiously. Nightmare blinked. Oh. The lid popped off, air rushed around him, the mortal shrieked. Oh. And suddenly, he hit his head on a ceiling.
Nightmare blinked again. The mortal looked even smaller now, cowering against the wall. Nightmare ignored it, flexing his fingers, his grin slow. "I'm out.." The mortal screamed again, and Nightmare quickly crouched, grabbing its face and silencing it. "Quiet, I am not going to harm you." It sputtered, clawing its way to freedom and backing away. "Oh god-"
Nightmare twitched irritably, cutting it off. "I would ask that you didn't use such a phrase in my presence. It's quite irksome."
"Whatthefuckwheredidyoucomefrom-" It paused, squinting at him, its mouth twisting into something concentrated. Nightmare stared back, still crouching- a god does not kneel. A spark of recognition lit up the mortal's eyes. "Are you a fucking genie??" The question startled a laugh out of him, Nightmare choking it back. "A genie? I would much prefer death over being such a thing."
Nightmare wished he could stand to his full height, it would've made his next statement far more impressive. "No, mortal. I am a god. Do not compare me to those lowly wish-granting creatures." The mortal scoffed, "Gods don't exist."
"Yet Genies do? That hardly makes any sense," Nightmare responded.
"Genies aren't gods. And I was joking. Partially."
Nightmare shook his head, shifting in place. "How mistaken you are. Genies are, in theory, gods. The lowest of gods, but gods nevertheless. They are lower than demi-gods. Some even consider them to be below mortals."
"You talk like a fucking thesaurus, old man," the mortal interrupted. Nightmare sneered, "I am an ancient being of untold power, do not run your mouth so carelessly." The mortal snorted, crossing its arms, "Uh huh. And what exactly is your name, 'being of untold power'?"
Nightmare bristled at the mocking tone, hissing in offense. "You dare mock me?!" And it grinned. "Sure." He grit his teeth, "This is humorous to you."
"Sure is. You sound crazy, dude. Gods- and genies- don't exist." The mortal wagged its finger, "I think old age might've gotten to you, mr. senile."
"I am not senile!"
"And you talk really weird. So formal."
"Once my powers return, I shall smite you-"
"Where's your retirement home, I'll walk you back."
"SILENCE!"
The mortal, finally, blessedly, went quiet. Nightmare took a breath, forcing himself to calm down. "Alright. Surely, there is some record of me. Do you have access to archives?" The mortal snickered, "Sure, let's go with that."
"Excellent. Go and search for the god of torment. That would be me." Nightmare waited. The mortal didn't move. Nightmare frowned, "Why are you not moving?" It laughed again, "Sorry, sorry, I'll look it up." It opened its bag, rummaging around for something. Nightmare looked between the bag and the mortal, confused. It pulled out a light, the one that countless people had. "What are you doing?"
"I'm looking you up." It started to fiddle with it, the light changing over and over until the mortal turned the light around to show Nightmare something. He squinted at it, his mind stalling. "That is me. How is it in your lamp?" He tapped it, the feeling of glass familiar. "What is this sorcery? Is it a looking glass? Explain."
"It's a phone."
"...explain further."
Intelligently, the mortal shrugged. "I dunno, it's kinda hard to properly explain it. It's just a phone. Technology is weird."
"..Hm. You must not be very intelligent. Where are your parents? Perhaps I could get a better explanation from one."
The mortal sniffed, quiet. Nightmare stared expectantly. Again, it didn't move or speak. Nightmare tilted his head. "Do you have a speech impediment?" It blinked and then snorted. "No, I don't."
"Then tell me. Where are your guardians?"
"Don't have any." Nightmare was taken aback. "None at all? But you are a mere child, you should have an adult caretaker." It shrugged again, putting its 'phone' away. "First off, I'm eighteen-"
"That is still a child-"
"-and second off, do you not know what an orphan is??" Nightmare hesitated, "I do. If you are an orphan, then should you not be in an orphanage? Why are you living on the streets?"
"Don't be so surprised." It zipped its bag up and tossed it into a corner carelessly, standing up and stretching. Nightmare watched them. "Should I not be? Is it common to find a child on the streets?"
"Oh yeah, it's pretty normal. Homeless kids are all over the place- do you really not know about this??" Nightmare glanced away, somewhat embarrassed. "I have... paid very little attention to the mortal realm in my time here."
Even if he had paid attention, it would've been hard to keep up with things from inside a bottle. The mortal hummed, "Ok. Maybe you are some ancient god. You didn't still haven't told me what to call you." Nightmare sat on the floor, his legs burning from crouching so long. The mortal sat down as well, slumping against the wall and pulling an oversized jacket out of somewhere. Nightmare eyed the tattered clothing wearily, watching the mortal drape it across itself.
It stared at him for a moment, and Nightmare realized it still wanted an answer. "Oh, yes, of course. You may call me Nightmare." The mortal grinned, "Well, Nightmare, I'm Cross. Welcome to the world of mortals, mister god man."
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LKSDFAKJS OKAY BUT LIKE I REALLY LIKE THIS IDEA????
WHO WANTS NIGHTMARE TO JUST ADOPT CROSS AS HIS SON OR SOMETHING?? CUZ I WANT TO DO THAT HAHA
ALSO cross was freaking out for like ten minutes, he seems calm but he's freaking the fuck out because he's in the presence of a literal god, who didn't kill him after all that disrespect so he's like losing his shit, but internally
currently trying to write the next part of Rat, so wish me luck guys haha