@calcium-cat am here to persuade you of having the benifits of why you should definitely make a Fluffy art of Horror and Dream Cuddling because I cannot stop under any circumstances live withought a fluffy moment of Dream and Horror hugging and Cuddling maybe some Dust, Dream and Cyanide Cuddling together
Anyways whatever you pick the outcome of this is my whole soul exploding from my chest, vomiting rainbows and passing out into the sweet embrace of wholesome satisfaction as I share this to the world and show how funking adorable it is and start praising it like it is a god I also adore your tiny babeh Dream and babeh Shattered UnU
How dose dream feel about bugs? Dose he pick up spiders with delight because they're like his brother? Or dose he run and try to climb one of the boys for safety
Dream absolutely adores bugs.
Butterflies, ladybugs, ants, bees- you name it! He used to play with the insects in the fields near their Tree, and while he’s doesn’t go outside much nowadays, he loves to find and catch the critters crawling in the dark corners of the castle.
Dream also loves to show the gang the little leggers he finds, but not everyone is as excited about his discoveries as him.
Shattered duckling and dream duckling get the exact same treatment from goosemare ( broody in denial affection) but shattered is more pushy and aggressive ( sneaky boy wont be denied bro cuddles) when trying to get goosemares affection so he ends up with more cuddles from his bro then dream ducky And he 100% has picked up a knife and chased cross with it in his mouth and stabbed some of the boys ( but not his bro or horror because horror feeds him lol)
I have a feeling Ink is getting pretty suspicious of the gang by this point. If my enemies suddenly stopped showing up, I would be concerned about an ambush or something.
Dust put a bow on ducky dream and dream felt so pretty he dragged another ribbon over to put on goosemare. Dust was obviously hesitant to approach.
Dream likes to check on everyone and running around the place tries the little duckling out.
Bird Boys
Crow killer has nipped at swan cross, just to "help him get a move on".
Killer will sit on Cross sometimes to get a ride with Dream. It is hard for cross to carry them both.
Horror likes just resting near someone and that means he ends up sitting next to Goosemare and Dust a lot. He also broods over dream. Yes, Sci looked it up, roosters get broody too. So sometimes horror will be sitting next to Goosemare with just a bit of dreams yellow or beak peeking out from under him.
Dream once got horror to brood and warm both dream and Dust with the scarf. Horror did it because Dust was being a little shit so why Not?
The bird AU is at this point practically just having the side story of Cross suffers cuz angst AU. Nothing enherently wrong with that, but I just hope for the love of god than Nightmare realizes that still being mad at Cross over this is fucking petty
I’m not saying that his anger is at all unjustified and he has all his right to be upset, but more of the fact that he’s still keeping this unfairly over his head then he so clearly regrets everything so damn badly the second it went downhill and haven’t stop blaming himself since
I think Cross has a very clear understanding at this point that yeah, he fucked up, big time. Yes they are all in this shit together no need to make this worse than it already is. Just hope for the love of god that than this is all over that Cross gets like just a week’s worth of comfort, finally some chocolate agin or just… something, y’know. Hope that makes sense…
This is not at all meant as hate or to be aggressive, that is not at all my intention and I’m sorry if it come off that way. I love this AU a lot, same for you works and all the ideas circulating it all is always just fun to read, so its hard not to get invested. But the poor guy deserves at least something
It's alright anon, you have a very valid point about Nightmare and Cross. I've acutally had this idea in the back of my mind for a while now, but I didn't have the motivation to write it until you brought it up. So I hope this drabble here is the catharsis you've been waiting for!
(Note: Only Dream and Nightmare are birds for right now)
Nightmare waddled down the hallway, his neck hunched low to the floor.
That’s right- waddled.
Because within the past seventy two hours, fate decided to show their sick sense of humor and stick him in the pathetic body of a goose. All thanks to those (literally) cursed duck slippers that Cross brought home, along with that empty skull of his. Nightmare was aware things could be a lot worse, but that wasn’t going to stop him from brooding (not that kind) about it the whole time.
Then just when he thought his mood couldn’t sour any more, his duckling of a brother decided to wander off.
Nightmare wasn’t about to panic though. Dream couldn’t get far with those tiny, easily tired-out legs of his, so he knew he wouldn’t need to search for long. But the fact he had to search at all, and at such an embarrassingly slow pace, was aggravating. All the more so after checking on all the skeletons left and finding Dream wasn’t with them.
Turning the corner, Nightmare narrowed his one eye at the doorway of the TV room.
Dream had better be in there, or else he . . . wait- was that . . .
Nightmare waddled slightly faster towards the door. Yes, there it was- a sort of scuffling noise and a grunt that sounded vaguely like a little chirp. Nightmare arched his neck and lifted his head, feeling his irritation rising with it.
Oh, that little duckling was in for it now . . .
To catch his brother by surprise, he walked into the room as quietly as he could with rubber for feet. Nightmare stood and did a quick sweep of the room, spotting a ball of bright yellow on the table where they kept the TV. The duckling didn’t notice him, his gaze fixed intently on something in front of him.
“Dream, what are you-” Nightmare began, only to stop when he realised what exactly Dream was looking at.
There on the bookshelf, a foot away from his brother, was the box where they kept their collection of movies.
His turquoise pupil shrunk.
“Wait, don’t!-”
But he was too late.
With head low and tail feathers up, Dream launched himself into the air, his wings flailing in a flimsy attempt to fly.
Nightmare froze, watching in horror as Dream grabbed the edge of the container with his beak and hung on desperately. For a split second, he thought the crisis was averted- that is until gravity pulled both brother and box off the shelf. The two fell to the floor in what felt like slow motion.
His soul hummed in his ears, screaming at him to move, but he couldn’t.
He couldn’t catch Dream with his tentacles. He couldn’t teleport without his magic. He couldn’t save him even if he ran as fast as his wiry goose legs could go.
He couldn’t do anything and now his brother’s tiny body was about to be crushed and-
The familiar fizzle of a teleport.
Nightmare blinked.
And when he looked, Cross was kneeling on the floor, Dream’s fluffy form in one hand and the box shoved back onto the shelf with the other.
Nightmare blinked again.
Where had . . . when did he . . . h-how!?
“You okay buddy?” asked Cross, poking the dazed duck.
Pushing himself upright, Dream nodded, “Uh huh!”
At the cheerful little tweet, the monochrome skeleton whistled a sigh, his shoulders sagging with relief. He used the bookshelf to pull himself to his feet before cupping both hands around Dream.
“Good. Don’t ever do that, alright? You could have gotten really hurt. You need to ask for help next time you wanna watch something,” Cross said firmly, although Nightmare thought it still sounded too soft.
“Okay Crossy!” Dream chirped
Cross smiled, but it fell the moment his mismatched eyelights shifted over to him.
“Uh . . . here- let me set you down,” he said, heading over to the couch with Dream cradled close to his chest.
Nightmare watched the skeleton gently place the duckling on the cushion, his tongue stuck to the roof of his beak.
“Sit still and I’ll, um, put a movie on,” Cross told Dream, even though he kept side-glancing at him, as if expecting him to do something.
But Nightmare remained rooted to the spot as the other walked stiffly over to the bookshelf.
“Hey Nighty!” Dream shouted, drawing his attention away from the skeleton. “Wanna watch a movie with me?”
Nightmare slowly scowled at his stupid, oblivious little brother.
His legs finally moved, marching him right over to the couch, his anger boiling hotter with every flat-footed step. He easily jumped onto the cushion, flapping his wings to regain his balance.
Dream titled his beak up at him. “Nightmare?”
Nightmare answered by bending down and giving him several hard pecks on the head.
“Ow- hey! OW!” Dream cried, shrinking into himself, “Stop!- what’d I do!?”
“What did you do? What did you do!? You jumped off the table like an idiot!” he shouted, giving him one last peck.
To anyone else, it probably sounded like enraged honking, but he didn’t care- Dream understood him loud and clear.
“I was trying to get a movie,” the duckling mumbled, studying a very interesting stain on the armrest.
“Well that was a dangerous way to get it,” Nightmare scolded. “You could have been seriously injured, Dream. Maybe Cross should have let you fall. Then you wouldn’t be so reckless all the time.”
“I’m sorry! I thought I could-”
“-Fly? Even after I told you not to do it?”
Dream looked away in guilty silence.
Nightmare sighed, brushing his wing over his face, though it didn’t have the same calming effect as when he had a hand.
“This is already hard enough without you giving me a soul attack every five minutes,” he grumbled, “Just . . . . stop doing dumb, dangerous stunts like that.”
Dream shuffled closer to him. “‘m sorry, Nighty. I won’t do it again . . . I promise.”
His face softened a little and he started to reply, but the TV abruptly switched on, cutting him off.
Nightmare jolted at the loud noise and frowned at the skeleton responsible. Cross stood in front of the screen, fumbling with the remote for another second, before finally getting the volume under control. Then he set it aside and turned around, the flashing scenes behind him silhouetting his figure.
“There you go, this is a good one,” he said cheerfully, but Nightmare detected a slight strain in his voice.
“Come watch with me, Crossy!” Dream piped up, flapping a wing against the seat beside him.
Cross took a step forward, then hesitated, glancinging nervously at Nightmare.
The goose scowled darkly back.
“Heh . . . sorry buddy,” Cross chuckled, walking toward the door, “I've got some stuff I gotta do. Maybe later. See ya.”
The skeleton gave a little wave over his shoulder and disappeared into the hall. Nightmare snorted satisfactorily when he suddenly had the feeling of being stared at. He looked down to find the tiny duckling glaring at him.
He raised an eyebrow.
“What?”
“Stop being mean to Crossy,” his brother demanded, in a tone similar to the one he’d used not a minute ago.
“I’m not being mean,” he huffed.
“You’re still mad at him,” said Dream.
Nightmare ignored the way that pricked what conscience he had left.
“Of course I am. If it weren’t for him, we wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place.”
Never mind it was him who picked up on the curse’s foreboding arua from the beginning and decided to do nothing about it because he was too busy-
Dream puffed out his cheeks, “he said he was sorry!”
“Sorry doesn’t fix everything,” Nightmare snapped, instantly regretting his words.
He shut his beak tightly and looked away. But after a second or two of silence, he glanced back at his brother, only to see him sitting sullenly with his wings pulled close. He tried to think of something to amend his previous statement, but Dream spoke up first.
“So . . . you’re still mad at me too?”
Nightmare furrowed his brow. “For what?”
“For biting you,” Dream said, head drooping. “I said I was sorry, but if you’re still mad-”
“I’m not mad at you for that,” he quickly interrupted. “That was an acci . . .”
Nightmare trailed off and cleared his throat.
“I mean- that wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known that would happen.”
But the second attempt was even worse, and he knew the damage was done when felt his brother gazing at him.
Those eyes looked innocent, but Nightmare knew when he’d been played.
He sighed defeatedly.
“It’s fine, Dream, just drop it.”
The duckling leapt to his feet, “But Nightmare, you-”
“I know, I know,” he said tiredly, “but it’s . . . more complicated than saying you’re sorry, alright?”
“I don’t see what’s so complicated,” Dream insisted.
Nightmare smirked, stretching out a wing and pulling his brother to his side, causing the duckling to stumble with a startled squawk.
“You’ll understand more when you get older,” he said, ignoring any thought of what that statement implied.
Dream squirmed underneath his goopy feathers and peeked up at him.
“But- you’re not gonna be mad at Crossy forever, right?”
“Eh . . . I’ll think about it.”
“Nightyyyy!”
“Shhh, I can’t hear the movie,” Nightmare hushed, forcing a straight face as he pretended to watch the TV.
After another second of frowning at him, Dream finally caved in and looked curiously over at the screen as well. An amused grin grew on Nightmare’s face. While he might have lost the argument, he still had the last laugh.
At least, he thought he did.
But as he boredly watched the movie playing, he found his mind wandering right back to his still unsettled conscience.
Because while he hated to admit his goody-two-shoes of a brother had a point . . . his goosty-two-shoes of a brother had a point.
Of course, Nightmare knew what Cross did was an accident.
There was no way the skeleton could have predicted the slippers randomly cursing his brother to become a duck, or that said curse could possibly be passed onto others. Only he could have foreseen that. And while it was a short-sighted gesture, it was still a well-intended one.
And yes, he also knew how sorry Cross was.
Even if he hadn’t said it several times, Nightmare would have sensed the guilt and regret in the skeleton regardless. In fact, he sensed it every time he found Cross playing with Dream, despite his cheerful attitude. It clung to him like the goop covering his feathers, and only got heavier as time went on.
And okay, maybe this bothered him a little bit.
Especially knowing his resentful treatment of Cross was somewhat to blame for it. But didn’t he have the right to be upset? Wasn’t he justified in holding a grudge? It was all Cross’s fault, after all. So what if it was an accident, and Cross deeply regretted it the moment everything went wrong, and kept apologising to him, and trying to make up for it, and . . . and . .
. . . and Dream was right, it wasn’t complicated.
He was just being petty.
Dammit.
Nightmare swallowed the lump in his crooked throat, feeling it slide down and settle uncomfortably in his soul.
Guilt.
He hated it- smothered it any chance he got- but he couldn’t afford to avoid it this time. He knew it would do more harm than good, and he’d already done a lot of harm. But rather than wallow in it, Nightmare made up his mind right then and there to apologize to Cross.
Not right now though.
One soul attack a day was enough for him, and he didn’t want to risk a second by leaving Dream alone. As bored as he was, he prefered being bored with his brother unharmed. Once Dream was asleep and not in any danger of falling to his death, then Nightmare would seek out the monochrome skeleton.
Cross clicked on it, and after a moment, a picture of Nightmare lunging at the camera loaded.
He snorted and clicked the message bar.
Crisscross-applesauce: what did you do?
FeelingStabby: nothing
FeelingStabby: typing . . . .
FeelingStabby: i saw him carrying the towel and asked was if that was for his nest
Garbagedisposal: 😂
Crisscross-applesauce: in that case, you deserved it.
FeelingStabby: harsh crossy
FeelingStabby: i risked my life to get that pic
Cross rolled his eyelights, but if he grinned at that, there was no one to see it in the darkness of his bedroom.
Scrolling back up, he tapped on the image again and downloaded it. Then pulling open his picture gallery, he idly swiped through his most recent photos- starting with the newest blurry assault, and working his way through the rest of their group chat blackmail.
Unsurprisingly, Dream was the focus of most pictures. A sudsy splash here, a snap of his soup-covered face there. But every now and then was a photo of “goosemare”, as they had all secretly nicknamed him. The oily bird looked either grouchy or downright murderous (no doubt thanks to killer), but there were a few where he seemed almost content.
Cross zoomed in one of those, his eyelights softening a bit. It was nice seeing Nightmare so relaxed, since he rarely ever was when he was around. No big mystery as to why.
Because for all his dumb mistakes in the past, Cross knew this time he’d really screwed up.
Since it wasn’t only his boss and friend that he’d indirectly cursed, but his little brother- an innocent kid- too. Accident or not, he couldn’t blame Nightmare for being mad at him for that. He was just glad he wasn’t mad enough to kick him out yet, seeing how all he ever did was screw things up.
Cross took a deep breath, shoving the unwanted thoughts away, and glanced at the time on his phone.
It was getting kinda late, maybe he should call it a night and-
Wait.
Was that . . .
Cross lowered his phone and squinted, his eyelights taking a moment to adjust to the dark.
When his sight sharpened, the turquoise pupil was still there, floating in the shadowy crack of his door.
“Nightmare?” he whispered, pushing himself up onto his elbow.
Nightmare gazed at him unblinkingly, then after another motionless second, the door slowly creaked open as the feathery demon waddled inside.
Cross jolted up right, clutching the phone to his chest as his blanket slid down.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” he shot rapidfire.
Nightmare wouldn’t bother coming in his room at this hour unless something terrible happened . . . right?
But the goose headed toward him at an unhurried pace before stopping calmly a foot away.
Cross peered down. “Um . . . Nightmare?”
The bird stood there and jerked his head at his bed.
Cross looked at him, then at his bed, then back at him.
“Uh . . . sure. You can come up here if that’s what you want.”
As soon as he finished speaking, Nightmare jumped, flapping his huge wings, and landed near the end of his bed. Cross leaned back as the goose started making his way toward him, still gripping his sweaty phone in one hand. Nightmare stopped once he was right next to his ribcage, a few inches from his face, and just . . . stared.
Cross didn’t know what he expected to happen, but this was definitely not it.
But as their staring contest dragged on, he realised Nightmare didn’t look angry. More like sad? It was clear even in the dark that the goose was upset about something, but his body language didn’t give him any other context clues besides that.
Cross swallowed and shifted under the covers.
“Um . . . are you okay?” he asked, not sure what else to say.
Nightmare opened his beak a little, then silently closed it and glanced off to the side.
“Oh yeah . . . right . . . sorry,” he grimaced.
Cross dropped his head back onto his pillow and glanced up at the ceiling.
“I’m . . . I’m really sorry, Nightmare . . .”
He knew he’d apologised a couple times already, but he didn’t know what else to do. He was too tired to think straight anyway. And since Nightmare couldn’t talk back, he continued, the words tumbling out of him.
“. . . I’m sorry for everything. I never should have gotten him those stupid shoes- not before checking with you first. I didn’t think that- . . . but I guess . . . it doesn’t matter much now . . .”
He groaned and smashed the heels of his hands into his sockets.
“Ugghhh, I’m such an idiot. I’m sorry I-”
Cross abruptly stopped as he felt something press against his teeth.
He opened his eyes to see Nightmare’s wing in his face, and a frown on the goose's. Nightmare then pulled his goopy feathers back and pointed them at his own feathery chest. Cross stared blankly at him.
“Uh . . .”
Nightmare pointed at himself again.
“You . . . what?”
The goose honked, clearly frustrated by the language barrier, but it’s not like he could help it! But before he could say anything, Nightmare turned his head this way and that, seemingly looking for something. When he found it, he let out another honk and pointed with his wing.
Cross followed his line of sight and stared down at his chest where his phone lay.
“What?” he picked it up, holding it for a moment, then his sockets widened, “Oh! Oh yeah! One sec-”
Entering his code, Cross clicked on the chat app and composed a new message.
“Here you go” he said, holding his phone out so Nightmare could easily reach the keyboard.
After studying it for a moment, the goose finally bumped the tip of his beak against the letter he wanted. Then he did it again, and again, and again. It took him so long to type what he wanted, Cross was half-expecting it to be a paragraph. But when Nightmare finally stopped (thank the stars, his arm was killing him-) Cross looked at the screen to find only one word.
S orwry yy
He would have snickered at the typos if someone else had typed it. But this was Nightmare, and when Nightmare says he’s sorry (amusing typos or not), that’s never something to laugh lightly at, so he didn’t.
Instead, he said quietly, “You’re . . . sorry?”
Nightmare nodded solemnly, looking as remorseful as a goose could look.
“Why?”
The bird looked at the phone, and after erasing the word, Cross titled the screen back to him.
After another agonizingly long minute, Cross read the single word Nightmare typed.
Angrry
Angry?
Oh.
Oh . . . . .
“Heh . . . it’s okay, Nightmare,” Cross said, picking at his phone case. “I get it. I mean, I’d be angry too if some idiot cursed me and my little bro- AH!"
Cross jerked his head back as a wing repeatedly smacked him, raising his free hand to shield himself.
“Okay, okay!” he exclaimed.
But while the slapping was annoying, Cross couldn’t help noticing how weak it was. In fact, it almost felt lighthearted- like he was being scolded for a bad joke or something. Even the glare he was giving him was half-hearted compared to the spiteful looks he’d seen over the past few days.
He acted just like the old Nightmare . . . only he was still stuck in the body of a twenty pound goose.
Cross lowered his hand and with a hesitant smile, “So. Are we good now?”
Nightmare returned his smile, dipping his head in a nod, and then lifted it to nudge his open palm.
He almost flinched at the gesture, a bit taken back by it. But he easily relaxed when his sluggish mind realised Nightmare was just telling him everything was okay now the only way he could. And as tempted as Cross was to pet back, he decided not to push his luck.
Once Nightmare stopped, Cross used the hand to cover a long, tired yawn, only to suddenly feel his phone being tugged out of the other.
“Hey!-” he started to pull back, but he was too slow.
Nightmare snatched the phone clean out of his hand, stepping away until it was out of his lazy reach.
Cross rolled his eyelights. “Fine . . . I was going to sleep anyway.”
Nightmare turned tail and headed to the end of the bed. Cross watched with lidded sockets as the goose kicked the covers back and dropped the phone, burying it beneath the blankets. The skeleton yawned again and stretched, popping a joint or two.
He started to turn on his side when he felt the mattress dip at his side and looked up to see Nightmare had returned to his previous spot.
Before Cross could ask him why he was still here, Nightmare stomped the blanket a few times and sat down. He ruffled his feathers as he settled down, giving his neck a good stretch, and rested his head on his black sweater, right over his sternum.
The monochrome skeleton blinked, both too stunned and scared to move an inch.
But when Nightmare didn’t stir, Cross very slowly lowered his hand and laid it on the goose’s head. And when Nightmare still didn’t react, he nervously, but gently, ran his fingers down his neck, smoothing over his rubbery feathers.
Instead of snapping at him to stop like he anticipated, Nightmare wearily exhaled, the muscles in his neck and wings visibly loosening a little.
Cross smiled, his sockets sliding shut.
“Goodnight,” he whispered.
Completely unaware of the new photo that would be added to the group chat in the morning.
Dang it Cal! You're making me fall hard for winged Nightmare when I was already a major simp for him before! Why must you consistently do this to me with your amazing art...? - Warrior ;3 anon.
In the world where dream slowly grows up and remembers , I feel like he'd finally figure it out in his late teens and by that point he'd just look and at his life with all the brothers and go "wait these guys are supposed to be evil?" And " WAIT, wait a damn minute, my brothers evil plan was to what ? Give me a childhood ? To love me?" Dream can never see noots and the others as evil again, all he sees is his dumbass bothers. Why play hero when you can prank your dumbass bros
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