X-tra Dark Cream & Dark Cream Week

Notes

This time there's only one work I wrote for Dark Cream Week. But what a work that is! (Well, if I haven't messed it up like I think I did.) Be warned that it contains heavy spoilers for Turns, twists, and paradoxes!

Or does it? Only time will tell!

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Eclipse

Dream doesn’t get enough sleep. These days he actually needs it to function properly, so weak he has become, as if withering away. As if dying. So far from the guardian he'd used to be, yet less naive, more experienced. Was his suffering worth it? Dream doesn’t know the answer. What he does know is that he also needs to eat, keenly aware of how brittle his bones have become underneath the liquid negativity that ruins him just as much as both negativity and positivity around. He's endlessly balancing on the thin line in between, that fleeting moment when love turns into grief, trust into betrayal, hope into despair. Then and only then his pain fades, though does not disappear completely, and there's no getting used to it. 

Dream's drowsing when his chest starts hurting so suddenly and so unnaturally he screams, the sound echoing through the Anti-Void, his sight blurry. Dream screams and screams, too afraid to check the only thing that could be wrong with him. It hurts so much, but he can't do it alone, can't make himself see his sentence. He sits up, pulls his legs to his chest, and waits for Cross to return with food that now might go to waste. 

Dream's not sure how long it takes Cross to get back. Dream doesn’t even see or hear him coming, consumed by piercing pain in his chest and overwhelming terror; not trembling, not moving, not crying. Not screaming anymore, either. He just doesn't want to die, he wants the pain to stop, but doesn't know how to express it. Do his pleas even matter? They never did. 

Cross must recognise something is wrong immediately, and when he gently touches Dream's shoulder, Dream finally manages to snap out of it. “I was waiting for you,” Dream whispers, his voice hoarse after who knows how much time of screaming. “I wanted to be with you when I…” 

Cross’ distress flares, and he asks, urgently, “What happened?” 

Dream whispers even quieter, “I think the curse has taken all of my soul. It hurts so much.” Cross looks taken aback, his worry turning into fear. The emotions soothe the pain a little, and Dream sighs and resolves to continue, “I just want you here. So you could call our family. So you all could be there when I…”

“Don't!” Cross shouts, obviously louder than intended, and his voice echoes through the Anti-Void. He keeps on in a more steady tone, “Let's see your soul first, okay? We've done it so many times already. Let it be just a normal check-up.”

“Okay,” Dream whispers. Cross’ determination has always made him stronger in a way no amount of positivity ever could. They're so lucky to have each other. 

Dream summons his soul, gasping and shutting his socket from pain and fear of the unknown. He doesn't want to die, and seeing his whole soul corrupted feels like it would solidify his death sentence. He's not ready. He wants a happy ending for Cross and Nightmare, Killer and Ccino. And there'd be no happiness for his beloved family if he died. He doesn't want to leave them. It hurts so much to think about, the same way his chest hurts from corruption. 

Dream finally opens his good socket. 

It's the most peculiar, the most mesmerising sight he's ever seen.

His soul is indeed fully black, seemingly rotten to the core. But despite the corruption, there is a gentle, warm golden light around the black apple, the same way it always used to be, only a little brighter because of the contrast of the glow and the apple itself. 

“What?..” Dream mouths without a sound, too afraid to make it worse. “It's like an eclipse,” Cross murmurs, awe and fear mixed in his voice. Then he adds, “We definitely need Nightmare.” 

“We need Nightmare,” Dream repeats, only registering his brother's name and a specific sound of a portal opening. He lets Cross help him stand up and lead him through the portal, his soul disappearing into his ribcage because he loses any semblance of control. 

Dream manages to focus on the world around him only when the door slams loudly, someone — his big brother, it's his big brother's voice, changed so much yet familiar, comforting, — Nightmare hurries to him, asking Cross, “What is it? Why are you two in different kinds of pain?” 

Oh. Dream has forgotten about the pain in his chest as soon as he saw Cross coming back to him. It hurts still, but now that there's hope… 

Cross suggests they sit in the living room, and so they do, Cross gently helping Dream onto his favourite armchair. Then, he asks Dream to show his soul once again. The pain lessens somewhat. 

It's less of a shock for the second time, but just as mesmerising. Cross was right when he said it looked like an eclipse. Dream's soul used to shine like a sun, then it got cursed and slowly glowed more and more faintly, but now that it has gotten fully corrupted (at least from the outside), it still glows. Can it be that there's still a part of the apple that was able to fight off the curse, to stay as pure as it used to be?.. 

The twins were never supposed to have souls anyway. Who knows how they work. Who knows if Dream has a chance.

“That's why you two are hurting so much,” Nightmare speaks quietly, barely a whisper. “That's why you're so afraid. Oh Dream…” 

“I don't want to die,” Dream replies. 

“I don't want to lose you,” Nightmare says. 

“We don't want to lose you,” Cross adds.

“But the glow!” Dream exclaims in a sudden burst of energy. “It's like an eclipse! It means we still have time, right? It's not forever, right?..” 

Nightmare looks him in the socket and sighs, “I don't know. No eclipse is eternal, that is true. But how this one will end, I do not know. I only know you are our sunshine, and we won't let go that easily. We'll find a way.”

Dream nods slowly. “Can I… Can I sleep here for a bit? It hurts less when I'm with you, I think.” He asks hesitantly. Nightmare and Cross both take his hands and lead him to Nightmare's bedroom.

“I'll continue researching the nature of souls, and Cross will be with you. When Killer comes back, I will send him to find the Underhelpers. They'd never give a proper answer, but a hint might be just enough. And we already know that who seeks will always find. You will be saved, little brother.”

Dream falls asleep, and when he wakes up, everything will change once again. 

After all, the eclipses are not forever. 

。。。

Credits

Undertale © Toby Fox

Dreamtale © jokublog

Cross © xtaleunderverse

Shattered © galacii-gallery

Dark Cream and Dark Cream Week © zu-is-here

X-tra Dark Cream © me (anfie / anfie-in-the-box)

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Notes

I'm very tired, and a little anxious to post this. So just... Thanks for reading, and take care 🌻

X-tra Dark Cream third anniversary

Notes

I never mentioned it, never even payed it any attention, but the universe decided to remind me that one of my beloved works turns three on the twenty third of December. I don't celebrate any holidays at all, but sometimes I like to use them as a deadline that's not really strict and write something for my followers, and this time especially for @orange-dreamzer. Hope you enjoy!

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It's fun to decorate the coffee shop for some local festivities, especially with a good company. There's five of them — Nightmare, Killer, Dream, Cross, and Ccino himself. They work faster together, even with the cats getting in the way and all of Ccino's helpers having no clue where to put what. He ends up directing them more than actually decorating, but he doesn't mind; it's new, but not a bad kind of new. He used to be the one helping… But the past is in the past. He has a family now — something he'd never dreamed of, not since his hopeless, dangerous love for still corrupted Nightmare bloomed. That's also in the past. Ccino's better now. All of them are. 

“Cross, I need you to put these lanterns above the door outside and a few inside as well. Do you mind me using blue magic on you?” Ccino says, getting the lanterns from yet another box. When Cross takes the lanterns and nods in confirmation, Ccino closes his sockets for a second, deeply breathes in and out, and then pulls. It's been a while since he had to use blue magic. Cross’ soul feels weird, part-human and part… something else, something more than soul traits, something that allows Cross to alter reality. Ccino doesn't understand that power, not even grasping the basics, but he thinks that's okay. 

While lifting Cross higher, Ccino calls, “Dream, please place the origami I prepared on the tables. Be careful not to wrinkle them, alright?”

Dream asks anxiously from behind, “Are you sure I should be doing this? I'm not used to handling delicate things…” 

Ccino can't help but soften. The curse has done a lot of harm to both twins, and it's crucial to remember that they don't realise just how loveable and reliable they are. If only they learned to love and trust themselves… But Ccino will support his family all the way. So he smiles, even though Dream can't see it — he can feel it, though, — and says with all the warmth and attentiveness in the world, “I have every confidence in you, Dream. Just try and put a few in their places, and then, if it doesn't work, I'll ask Nightmare. Okay?”

Dream hums an insecure “Okay,” and there's that. Ccino smiles and redirects Cross closer to the middle of the room. 

“There are hooks everywhere,” Cross notices. “Are they for the lanterns?” 

Am I doing this right? He doesn't ask, but Ccino understands nonetheless. He replies, “Well, yes. And for Christmas lights and tinsel, for example. All sorts of decorations.”

“How'd you do all this before?” Nightmare asks curiously. “Without someone to use magic on to put everything on the ceiling? I know you love this place, both Dream and I can feel it. But how?”

“I have a ladder,” Ccino admits. “But it's much easier and safer to use magic now that you're all here. Cats don't get in the way at all. Do they, Cross?” 

“They certainly can try,” Cross laughs. “Your blue magic is so gentle, you know? I was trained to be precise and effective, as a Royal Guard. To feel how different it can be… It's eye-opening.”

“Thanks for trusting me,” Ccino says. Dream adds from behind, “Thank you for your care.”

“Hey! Can someone come see this?” Killer calls suddenly from behind the counter; some time ago, he asked several questions about the festivities and hid with his favourite knife. 

“What have you got?” Nightmare responds, and then Ccino replies at the exact same moment, “A few more lanterns!” They don't apologise for interrupting each other, laughing instead. Barely a few seconds later Ccino hears Nightmare gasp in awe. 

“Didn't you see what I was doing? It's just a look over my shoulder, and you'd see it!”

Yeah, Nightmare and Killer are both behind the counter, but while Nightmare uses his impeccable penmanship to write well wishes on sticky notes and put them on the cups, Killer has promised a surprise.

“Well,” Nightmare replies in a patient tone, “You asked for privacy, so I gave that to you. Besides, I have my own task to do.”

Killer makes a noise in half-embarrassment half-gratitude. “It's ready. Now you can see.” 

Cross calls, “Hey Ccino, all done.” He puts him on the floor instantly, though carefully as usual, and together with Dream they all go to see what Killer has for them. 

It's wooden figures of different animals, so small they'd fit in the palm, yet finely detailed, so beautiful it takes Ccino's breath away. “How long have you been working on these?..” he whispers, afraid to ruin the moment — or the miniature figures. Killer shrugs and waves his hand, “Since you explained to us how this whole festivities thing works.”

Ccino's eye-sockets begin watering. He feels… happy. So very happy, and so very loved. He hugs Killer, murmuring, “Thank you.” 

“I didn't know you could carve,” Nightmare admits.

Petting Ccino's head, Killer explains, “Didn't really come up. It's a hobby for the times my LV acts up. Turned out to be useful now.” 

“I'm so proud and so grateful. This is amazing. You are amazing, Killer!”

“I agree with Ccino. Very clever,” Nightmare adds, just a little bit stiffly, and for once Ccino doesn't hear any guilt in his voice. Only serenity and love.

“So we did it, right?” Dream asks. “How about a small celebration?”

“Excellent suggestion!” Ccino exclaims, reluctantly letting Killer go. “You go sit, I'll handle the rest!” 

。。。

“Tea? Coffee? A dance?” Ccino offers half-jokingly. 

“Can I have more than one option?” Killer perks. Ccino nods seriously, “I don't see why not.” His hands tremble slightly, and he feels the heat of extra magic under his cheek bones. What's this impossible skeleton up to this time? 

“Well then, I'd like to order a dance and a cup of my favourite herbal tea right after.”

Oh. Ccino's never danced in his life; maybe as a kid, but he barely remembers his childhood, so there's that. There's also not that much space between tables and chairs. Yet he can't refuse, and takes Killer's hand, lowering another on Killer's shoulder as if they are waltzing. He quickly realises they're doing exactly that, just in one place, not moving around. 

“Shall we also give it a try?” Cross suggests. 

Dream hesitates, “But Nightmare would be left alone…” 

“That's not true,” Nightmare interrupts. “I'm still here with you, all of you, peaceful and content for once.” 

Ccino can't help but agree. And then Cross and Dream join Killer and him, waltzing between a different set of tables. 

Tomorrow's festivities have nothing on this lovely, so very lovely night. 

。。。

Credits

Ccino © black-nyanko

Nightmare and Dream © jokublog

Shattered Dream © galacii-gallery

Cross © jakei95

Killer © rahafwabas

Dark Cream © @zu-is-here

X-tra Dark Cream © me (anfie / anfie-in-the-box)

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Notes

Is this canon in the actual Turns, twists, and paradoxes? Is the curse finally lifted? Is Fluffynightkiller a thing already? So many questions, so little answers!.. I would love to hear your thoughts.

Also, this piece started from Ccino's phrase "Tea? Coffee? A dance?" and then grew both backwards and forwards. In Russian it's "Чай? Кофе? Потанцуем?", which my relatives and I use rather often.

Turns, twists, and paradoxes

Navigation

First | Previous

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Notes

It's been finished for a while, just didn't feel like uploading anything. It really takes effort to get the post done, with all the links, the credits, proofreading, etc.

Also yeah, it's the second x-tra! Since @zu-is-here insists on drawing illustrations for this fic, readers get more x-tra scenes!

Enjoy!

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X-tra 2

Horror hopes he knows where to shortcut to find Murder. He doesn't want him alone after a fight; never again.

Murder isn't in his room, but that's okay. Horror has a few other places to check. He can't feel the other's emotions like Nightmare can, but he knows Murder better than anyone, so of course he'll find him.

Just let him not be too late. Murder needs him.

Horror shortcuts and shortcuts. The castle is silent and empty — it's weird not to hear a single soul, no spars on the yard, no smells of cooking — someone is, was, always awake here. The castle was alive despite overwhelming, suffocating negativity, and now it's dead. For good, once Horror and Murder leave as well. It feels strange to even consider leaving the place behind, yet it's only logical — nothing stops them anymore. They can have a try at a happy ending of their own.

Horror finds Murder in one of the balconies where he sits right on the floor, breathing deeply. He's meditating, Horror knows, so he doesn't interrupt. Instead he sits quietly in front of Murder and watches his deceivingly calm features, looking for a sign of distress. Murder is particularly vulnerable before and after gaining EXP, and while Horror couldn't really help before — Nightmare would never let them comfort each other when their negative emotions were high, only after they calmed down by themselves — he can now. So he's here. It's new, so he's not sure what exactly to do, but being around people always seemed to ground Murder, if only a little, so Horror will keep him company. They worked together for so long they grew attached despite their differences and their past. Horror was at odds with most of others, mostly because unlike them, he cared about his brother and his people and couldn't even imagine killing them. In a sense, he was lucky, never once living through what they call a Genocide timeline; but he had a hell of his own.

Nightmare only picked up toys long broken, after all. Those he could bend and twist into loyalty. Some managed to escape his grasp — Cross wasn't the first traitor, not at all, although he's the only one who joined Dream and therefore put a target much bigger than usual on his back. Nightmare does not forget, and he does not forgive.

Or at least that's how it used to be. Nightmare did bow and thank them for help, after all. And earlier, he did let them go without a word.

They're not free yet, though. Maybe will never be. But now they can make a first step. Together with Murder, Horror hopes. He doesn't want to leave his partner alone.

Murder opens his sockets, mismatched eye-lights focusing on Horror.

Neither talks until Murder twitches, "Did you want something?"

"Just make sure you're alright," Horror responds. "Well, as much as possible," he corrects.

Murder hugs his knees, curling into himself. "Papyrus didn't make an appearance, if that's what you'd like to know. I don't know if it's meditation or he just doesn't feel like it."

"That's okay," Horror assures. "There's no rush anymore."

Murder lowers his gaze. "Are we really leaving?" he asks. Something in his tone breaks Horror's heart. He's come to care so much about his partner.

"I don't know," he answers honestly. "I have to ask Farmer if he's okay with it. But I don't think he'll refuse, especially if we promise to help."

"We're both unstable," Murder says. "And they're peaceful. Would it work?"

Horror knows what he's really asking. What if I snap? What if you snap? Horror doesn't know how to answer that. What he knows for sure is, "We won't be alone anymore."

Murder grins. "Don't know about you, but I was never alone in the first place. Not since you…" He quiets and whispers, smile smaller but more genuine: "Thank you."

"Thank you, too," Horror grumbles. It's not easy to be so open after years of hiding, even before Nightmare came for him, but for Murder, he can do it.

They fall silent, sitting on the cool floor, looking at each other. They're both roughed up, though not injured too seriously. Some food and a bath will heal them in a moment. Maybe good sleep, too, though they won't be sleeping any time soon. Or at least Horror won't.

"Why do you think Nightmare returned?" Murder asks, uncertain and vulnerable. He looks Horror in the eye, waiting for his response nervously.

"I think," Horror says, "Nightmare needs something he left here. Probably those precious books of his. And besides, we knew it would happen sooner or later, didn't we? We were ready as we'd ever be."

Murder nods thoughtfully, reaching out. Horror lets him touch and caress his hands. Intimacy is difficult, but Murder deserves comfort, and Horror is ready to provide.

"It's so weird seeing him like this," Murder murmurs softly. He must be scared to share his thoughts so openly, and so is Horror, but they will manage for sure. There's nothing stopping them anymore. They don't have to hurt anymore. They can heal.

"It is," Horror agrees. "Whatever happened that got rid of his corruption changed him drastically, huh?"

Murder doesn't answer — there's no need to talk anymore.

So they sit together, despite the odds, against the ever-present oppressing air of an AU with hopes and dreams long gone. They're not quite ready for whatever will come next, but Horror wants to face the future by Murder's side.

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Credits

Undertale © Toby Fox

Horror!Sans © horrortalecomic

Murder!Sans © ask-dusttale

Read it on ao3

Read Russian version on ficbook or fanficus

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Notes

I told you Murder and Horror would show up again, but did you expect it to be so soon? Even I didn't, but it really wanted to be written, so I couldn't ignore it.

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Navigation

Next

X-tra Dark Cream & Dark Cream Week

Notes

Again, there so, little I'm not sure...

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Resist

Dream forces himself to stand straight. Negativity of a broken AU hurts so much, burns and twists cruelly, mercilessly. 

"It's time to go," he rasps as his knees buckle. Cross is by his side in a moment, the heat of the battle forgotten. He opens a portal, cutting time and space, and Dream steps through first. 

Hurt him, something inside of him whispers. Make him suffer like you do. Make his world end like yours did. 

Dream pays it no mind — it is not his own darkness speaking, not his own inner demons trying to win, but the negativity of the whole Multiverse and more. It's okay. He can deal with it. He's used to carrying the weight of the world. He doesn't have a choice. 

"How are you?" Cross asks, worriedly. His anxiety spikes as Dream falls on his knees, exhausted and weakened, although merely moments ago he was on the top of the world. The change is always shocking, leaving him tired and helpless. 

"I can't," Dream whispers. Negativity pulses in his rotting golden apple of a soul, so vulnerable, so frail yet steadily, relentlessly resisting the curse and the death itself. 

Time has never been on Dream's side; not when he was too busy to support his own brother, not when he was trapped in stone for centuries, and not when he fought for his life, always running away and desperately trying to negate the damage the curse — not his brother, never him — had left. And not now, when every second brings him closer to death — this time he won't escape. It's terrifying to try and outrun the ever-spreading corruption, but Dream won't ever give up on himself. He has given up on the world, though. It's so easy to lose faith after years of suffering, so easy to let himself be led by the inner demons he used to shut down at every turn. Not anymore. He sets his darkness free so his light may shine when it matters the most.

But oh, how much he wants to hurt, to ruin, to shatter like he was hurt, and ruined, and shattered. To finally lash out after years and years of locking it all away. Only Cross is there within his reach in the void they call home — not because the place deserves it but because they're there together — and he can't, won't hurt Cross. His dearest fiance, his most loyal guard.

Cross helps Dream get up, pulling him closer in an embrace. Dream inhales slowly, drinking in the smell of magic and blood lingering on Cross' clothes after the battle. 

Cross makes himself so undefended, it'd be so easy for Dream to sink his tentacles into his soul, flooding him with illusions of what used to be and could have been, breaking and twisting everything in sight like he is broken and twisted.

Hurt him.

Hurt him. 

Hurt him.

Dream will not. It's not what he wants, even if it's what he needs. If he ever did, he'd lose himself, and if he lost himself, the price his loved ones would have to pay would be too high. It'd be the end. He'd cease to exist, and the curse would be free once and forever, and that would be the fall of the Multiverse. The stakes were neither simple nor fair, after all, Dream thinks bitterly.

So he resists. 

。。。

Undertale © Toby Fox

Dreamtale © jokublog

Cross!Sans © jakei95 / xtaleunderverse

Dark Cream and Dark Cream Week © zu-is-here

X-tra Dark Cream © me (anfie /anfie-in-the-box)

X-tra Dark Cream Week & Dark Cream Week

Notes

It's short and thus uncomfortable. Please tell me it turned out okay.

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Obey

Dream stops among destruction and chaos he and Cross have brought upon this AU and listens to himself. It's gotten easier over time — stopping and listening to himself, to what he wants and what he needs. It never mattered before, so he never learned. But now it's a matter of survival to hear and see and feel, to stay true to himself, to lose battles with his inner demons but not the war, never the war, for the price is his life. To recognise his own voice among the others. To recognise his own inner demons from the darkness of the world, and from the darkness of someone else, whoever he is that Nightmare warned about.

The negativity swirls and burns, eating Dream's soul slowly but surely. The positivity when they just arrived hurt a lot, too, but it's nothing compared to negativity. Dream's a being of positive feelings, after all; he's only ever known light. But the fleeting shattered positivity feeds him and heals him, makes him stronger, buys him precious time. So they continue. 

Well, Cross continues, razing through the AU with his huge knives, destroying what he can reach, debris hurting as many people as his blades do. Few die — his attacks are perfectly calculated, precise with the experience of a true warrior. All of them suffer, though, helpless before the threat. The timeline is peaceful, and that's enough of a reason to ruin it — if Dream doesn’t get to be happy after all he's done, then neither do they. It'll reset, and they'll forget, but not all of them. There will still be those haunted by the memories of the utter destruction.

The thought brings Dream satisfaction unlike any other, and he basks in it unapologetically. It's so nice to be selfish. So nice to love himself, and to take care of himself, and not to be always good, pretending the mess of him doesn't exist. It does very much exist — there's no order in Dream's mind, not now and not ever… Well, no, maybe in those simple times when he and Nightmare were still alone in their world. It didn't last long, though, did it? So Dream's a mess, and it's okay. He doesn't have to be perfect anymore. 

And suddenly, it turns out he's perfect in his imperfection. Suddenly, he's enough as he is. At least for those who truly matter. 

That's what Dream feels. 

Dark, deep satisfaction. 

And of course there are the emotions of others — broken hopes, shattered dreams, contentment turned suffering, security turned fear, pride turned shame, and guilt, so much guilt from those who were supposed to protect, parents and rulers alike. 

And Cross' fierce love and determination, like a beacon among them all. 

More pain, Dream's mind whispers, and Dream knows for sure the thought is his own. He wants it. He will get it. 

So he obeys. 

。。。

Undertale © Toby Fox

Dreamtale © jokublog

Cross!Sans © jakei95 / xtaleunderverse

Shattered Dream © galacii-gallery / shattereddreamsau

Dark Cream and Dark Cream Week © zu-is-here

X-tra Dark Cream © me (anfie / anfie-in-the-box)

X-tra Dark Cream & Dark Cream Week

Notes

This one is short so I'm not sure how I feel about it. It's very different from the previous day though, so I'm x-cited about that!

The main story can be found here! Feel free to skip my works for Dark Cream Week if you want to read Turns, twists, and paradoxes chronologically! And enjoy!

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Oblivion

Dream observes as yet another AU falls into oblivion. Beside him stands Cross, overwriting buildings and roads to collapse, people — kids and adults, monsters and humans alike — to become horrible monstrosities, as others watch helplessly how their loved ones succumb to their fate. It's utter chaos, a storm of destruction and suffering but not death, never the relief of death, and nobody sees the two skeletons on the highest building in the area, one causing it all and the other feeding on the shattered positivity of a ruined Pacifist timeline. It's satisfying to see others in as much pain as Dream is in; it's gratifying to be as unfair to all these people as the world has been to Dream and his family. He is bitter, jaded. He's done caring about everyone, whether they deserve it or not. He's done being kind and understanding when no one would do the same for him; no one but his family. The world doesn't like him, so why would he like the world? No, he loathes it.

So he lets the hurt and the mistrust and the cruelty fester within his soul. What used to poison and throttle him now sets him free. It's exciting. It's exhilarating. It's perfect.

The AU crumbles under them. It will all reset, but Dream doesn’t care; he needs shattered positivity here and now, and unlike Nightmare, what becomes of the resulting negativity is not something he has any regard for.

"It's beautiful," Dream says appreciatively. The sight before him is gruesome and horrific, and that's the charm of it.

Cross blushes faintly. "Don't distract me," he mutters.

"Oh?" Dream glances at Cross with a smile. "Am I distracting?"

"Very." Short and to the point.

Dream laughes. "How delightful! I love you too, Cross. So very much."

He'd hug him, but Cross really needs to focus. Overwrite is not a power easy to use, not for him; and he can't afford to mess up. It's alright though. Dream can wait. Cross doesn't kill this time so he gains very little EXP, therefore his sleep after all of this won't be as troubled. They will cuddle and talk until Cross driffs off.

Yeah, sounds like a plan.

Dream looks at Cross, mesmerised. He's so beautiful when completely in control of himself and the world around him, overwriting his surroundings to his wishes and Dream's satisfaction. It's brilliant. Cross is brilliant.

The oblivion will be this AU's salvation. It won't collapse. It will reset, and they will forget, all of them but those with the highest levels of determination. Dream won't forget, either, and he won't ever be forgiven, and that's the point. He wants just a couple of people to remember, he doesn't ever need more, doesn't need the negativity to stay.

The oblivion won't be Dream's salvation, though. He'll never forget his own corruption, and he'll never forgive himself, but that's okay. He's not hurting anymore. He doesn't need or want oblivion.

They'll be okay.

。。。

Credits

Undertale © Toby Fox

Dream!Sans © jokublog

Cross!Sans © jakei95 / xtaleunderverse

Shattered Dream © galacii-gallery / shattereddreamsau

Dark Cream and Dark Cream Week © zu-is-here

X-tra Dark Cream © me (anfie / anfie-in-the-box)

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Notes

How do you like this one? It's further in the timeline than the previous day's ones, so it is indeed quite different! Dream's much more confident in what he does and clearly learning to relish in destruction he must cause to survive.

X-tra Dark Cream & Dark Cream Week

Notes

No action, not even much angst, although it's not exactly fluffy either. Still! One of the warmest works for X-tra Dark Cream so far!

The main story can be found here! Please feel free to skip my works for Dark Cream Week if you want to read Turns, twists, and paradoxes chronologically! Enjoy!

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Nostalgia

Dream and Cross sit on a roof, not too high above the ground but enough for it to be a quiet night with only the swift wind and the gentle moonlight to accompany them. Cross hugs Dream from behind, his hands circling his love's waist. Dream looks at his own hands, at the ring on his finger, and it shines, starlit — a star of its own right. All Dream's light is focused in that ring. When darkness overcomes him, he seeks the weight of it, the smooth edges, the glint, everything.

In a way, we're all stars.

Dream's become a black hole, though. He gave up his light to set his brother free from the curse that's taken his life — perhaps not literally, not to the point of death, but it's even worse, everything Nightmare had to live through. Dream's been suffering, but Nightmare had it worse.

Only they're not comparing traumas.

Cross' warmth beside his back reminds him of this simple truth.

None of them deserved what they got.

So today Dream refuses to fall. He's not alone, nevermore, and with Cross' help, he will soar.

"Cross?" Dream whispers.

"Hm?" his beloved murmurs in return, caressing his ribs through the clothes and goop. Dream smiles, softly.

"Remember when you proposed?" he pauses, thoughtful. "It's so unfair that to accept, I needed to lose everything once again… Or, well, I suppose, not everything. I still have you, and I have Nightmare, and Nightmare has Killer and Ccino… It's still so strange to never be alone anymore. It used to be just me against the world, from the beginning, and now… Now, it's us."

There's a surge of gentle fondness and determined devotion behind Dream's back. It's so easy, so pleasant to feel Cross' emotions — his love for Dream and his hate for the world that's wronged them so. Complex and genuine, raw and bright like stars, Cross' emotions guide Dream back to him.

"I remember," he responds. "It's not the happiest memory, but I treasure it dearly."

"So do I," Dream nods, ever so slightly. "Now I realise it took a lot of courage to ask and even more loyalty to accept my answer as it was," Dream sighs. "I never knew I could be happy. And now I truly can't be — such potent positivity hurts me so very much, and I can't let myself die, we all know it'll be the end if I do. Maybe the Multiverse never needed us to maintain the balance, maybe there's no balance needed at all, but the curse, if it ever prevails, will never stop until it drowns the Multiverse in negativity. We won't allow it to happen. I just know we won't. We're too good of a team to fail, despite our differences, despite everything. And despite everything, it's still me. And now that I accepted your proposal… it's nice to think that someday, I will be able to just be happy. With you, and with my brother, and like him, we'll find a home of our own."

"There'll be no need to hide anymore," Cross whispers, wistfully. "No need to run. Not from Nightmare, and not from ourselves. Sounds lovely, doesn't it?"

"It really does."

They sit in a tight embrace. They smile. They reminisce — about the good and about the bad, about the tears and about the laughs, about those long gone and those who are still there.

Dream looks at his ring, and it shines like a loadstar it is.

Someday, it will bring them home.

But for now, they'd make their home in memories. And it's okay. It's more than he ever had.

。。。

Credits

Undertale © Toby Fox

Dream!Sans © jokublog

Cross!Sans © jakei95 / xtaleunderverse

Shattered Dream © galacii-gallery / shattereddreamsau

Dark Cream and Dark Cream Week © zu-is-here

X-tra Dark Cream © me (anfie / anfie-in-the-box)

。。。

Notes

Are there references to Zu's Loadstar comic? Duh. Obviously. It just fit so well with the atmosphere and the mood, I had to. Did Dream think this way because he talked to Killer about it, since it's Killer's POV in Loadstar? Maybe! See in the main story whenever we get to this point!

X-tra Dark Cream & Dark Cream Week

Notes

Yeah, I'm a mess and have decided to write both prompts for each day of Dark Cream Week. Is it crazy? Yes, especially since I write rather slowly and with lots of difficulties and insecurities. Does it work out? It does, kinda. Did I manage? Who knows! Definitely not present-me, not yet, it's still a bit before the actual Week when I'm making this post. It's okay though, even if I end up not finishing. It's way more than what I've written for events before this one, so it's a win anyway! I am quite proud of myself.

No real spoilers for Turns, twists, and paradoxes, but feel free to skip my works for Dark Cream Week if you prefer reading the main piece chronologically!

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Sacrifice

To survive, Dream sacrifices parts of himself. His kindness. His helpfulness. His understanding. His empathy. Everything he used to be goes away, forming something new. He's not sure what yet. It's dark, heavy with the burden of the entire world, bent on revenge for all the unfairness in the Multiverse, and in so much pain it wants the others to feel it too. Dream never knew he could be so cruel and wish others harm, but the curse changes him, bending and twisting but never breaking. Dream can't let himself break. Can't let the curse win. So he fights, choosing the lesser evil, being evil to everyone but his family. His loved ones.

Dream keeps the balance within himself, feeding his soul shattered positive feelings of thousands of humans and monsters he doesn't know yet never hurting those who truly matter. It's a fickle process, but Dream manages. He's hurt Cross enough before meeting Nightmare in that clever illusion of his. He failed to support his brother before everything started. Nevermore. Not if he can help it.

"Dream?" He startles at Cross' voice so near. Dream didn't notice him coming closer. "Are you okay?"

Dream smiles slightly, "I am. Just lost in thought."

"Whatever about?"

"How atrocious the world has been to all of us, mostly." Dream finds Cross' hand and caresses it gently with his. Cross smiles at him, content and peaceful, at least as much as even possible. "Never gets old, that. We were all good in our own ways and look what it's done to us. I've never hurt in return, despite the way I was abused my whole life, and what good did it do to me?" he pauses, then confesses, "It's so nice to be angry. So freeing. I've always tried to stay positive and bring light to everyone in need; I never let myself properly experience negative emotions, and only now I realise how unhealthy it was. I was miserable and in denial, and now that nothing stops me anymore…" Dream trails off, at a loss of words.

"It's okay if you don't know how to express yourself," Cross reassures, taking both Dream's hands in his. "It's also okay to be angry. You have every right to feel whatever emotion you feel at the moment. You're a person, not a perfect angel, and that's okay, too. I'm just sorry I never saw the pressure you were under before," he says quietly. "I'm sorry you felt like this was the only way."

Dream frees one of his hands and pets Cross' cheek, so very gently. "I forgive you." There's undeniable fondness in his voice, but also sadness. Dream's sorry, too. But that's exactly how unfair the world has been to them. That's exactly his point. They tried so hard, and it didn't change anything. There was no happy ending. But maybe there will be. Dream hopes.

Oh, how he hopes.

So maybe he's not sacrificing his old self after all. Maybe he's just hiding it deep inside, only for his loved ones to see. He's still different, even with them; he's sharper, tougher, more resolute. But that's alright. Because…

"I love you," Cross whispers.

Yeah. That's why.

"I love you too."

。。。

Credits

Undertale © Toby Fox

Dream!Sans © jokublog

Cross!Sans © jakei95 / xtaleunderverse

Shattered Dream © galacii-gallery /shattereddreamsau

Dark Cream and Dark Cream Week © zu-is-here

X-tra Dark Cream © me (anfie / anfie-in-the-box)

。。。

Notes

I love how different it is from Egoism, its dual piece. Dream is steadier here, more certain, although he still has a long way to go. It's really interesting to observe.

X-tra Dark Cream & Dark Cream Week

Notes

It's Dark Cream Week! Very inspiring prompts this time, so expect a lot of different things from me! No real spoilers in this one, but feel free to skip it (as well as all the others) if you want to read Turns, twists, and paradoxes chronologically.

You can find the main story here or via tag #x-tra dark cream fic! Thank you!

。。。

Egoism

Dream sobs in Cross' arms; it feels like he's broken beyond repair, just like his world is. "I hate it," he whispers, hoarsely. "I hate it so much. I don't want to hurt anybody. I don't want to hurt you. But all I can do is cause harm. Even before, but especially now. And I hate it! I didn't even know I was capable of hating anything, I didn't think I could. It's against everything I used to believe in, against everything I used to be. What do I do, Cross? How can I live with myself like this?"

Cross pulls him closer, to the point of Dream's ribs hurting a bit. He welcomes this pain, as slight as it is; it means he is not heartless yet, not dead to the curse corrupting his soul. Dream hugs tighter in return, holding on to Cross like a lifeline.

"I know," his guard and his love murmurs softly. "I know it's hard for you. You're genuinely good; you heal, not hurt. And if you ever hurt, you make amends. But we have to. Your brother said we have to. As long as you're the one in control, we have a chance. Please, stay with me. With us. I know the price is too high, I know you hate every second of it. But we need you. I need you. If we lose… You know it's worth it. I know you know."

"I get it. I do. But it's terrible, the things we have to do. I was supposed to protect, not harm!" Dream wails, desperately, his soul clenching in his chest.

"So was your brother," Dream flinches at the reminder of what's become of Nightmare, what the curse made him do, and how helpless and lost he feels now that he's free. Cross continues, "You're both protectors. Guardians. It's not your fault, whatever the curse makes you do. It's not his, either."

"Nightmare was just a kid," Dream whispers. Cross nods decisively. But Dream keeps talking, barely audibly, "He was hurting so much, and I couldn't help."

"You were a kid, too," Cross reminds him. "It's not your fault you both were used like that. You didn't know."

At a loss for words, Dream nods. He's not sure how much he believes it, but at least he hears Cross loud and clear. It's a step.

"You need to survive," Cross whispers gently. "You need to stay in control. If wrecking worlds is what it takes, I'm ready to do it."

There's a warm feeling in Dream's heavy chest now. It blooms like a flower, explodes like a firework. He's so lucky to be loved.

"Yeah," he agrees. He knows Cross would do anything for him. But… "But I'm not."

"I know. I'm sorry. Is it bad to say I hope you'll get used to it?" Dream shudders in Cross' arms, and he soothingly rubs his spine through the clothes and goop. "I suppose it is. But… I really do. I get that thousands of lives for just one is not fair, but the world was never fair to you either, you know?" he hums thoughtfully. "And besides, you're special. The Multiverse needs you. You and your brother. And, well, I need you. I can't lose you too."

Dream sighs, feeling underneath the weight of the world. His heart's always been too big. He feels like he dies a little with every shattered hope and dream; and maybe he does — the old Dream's barely there anymore. He can't afford to be the old Dream, but he doesn't know how to make himself something new. He doesn't understand cruelty and violence, but that's what he needs now. Cross does most of the work, but it makes it even harder, in a way. Cross has been a soldier and a murderer way before he joined Dream, but it doesn't mean he has to keep doing this. Yet he does, for Dream.

It hurts so much. His beloved Cross fighting his battles for him, yet another world drowning in misery, all of it. Dream hates it. He hates it so very much. But every time something in him breaks, he feels stronger, and it kills him to be better and worse at the same time. It kills him. The kind, supportive, understanding, simply good Dream he can't be anymore. He doesn't want to be anything else, but he has to. For Cross. For Nightmare. For himself.

"I feel so selfish," Dream confesses, quietly.

"It's okay to be selfish, though," Cross responds, caressing Dream's spine. "Since forever, you lived for others. It's about time you learn how to live for yourself."

"But it's more than living for oneself, isn't it? I ruin others' lives."

"To survive! You don't have a choice. There is no good option, only bad ones. It's okay to choose the lesser evil. It doesn't make you evil."

"Our victims would disagree," Dream chuckles wetly. "I would disagree, to be honest."

Cross quiets for a while. Then, he asks, "Do you think your brother is evil?"

"What?! Of course not! It wasn't even him half the time!"

"But he ended and ruined so many lives. He made his own people miserable. He used and hurt and twisted everything within his reach, which was vast. He wanted to kill you." As Cross keeps on pressing, Dream feels somewhat lighter, finally admitting his beloved is right. It doesn't make it better, it doesn't solve the problem, but he's not alone. He has Cross and Nightmare, and even Killer and Ccino. Together, they'll find a way to break the curse. Sooner or later, one way or another.

And for now, egoism doesn't sound too bad. Maybe the first step to becoming the new Dream is being selfish.

Dream doesn’t quite stop crying, but he feels better. It doesn't seem like the world is ending anymore. The weight of it still presses on Dream's shoulders, but it feels almost bearable, with Cross here to catch him if he ever falls. Dream will not crash, will not shatter. He's not beyond repair, and he's not alone.

They sit, and Cross offers Dream a piece of chocolate. Dream accepts the sweet little thing, smiling through the tears. It's not that he needs to eat, but Cross loves chocolate so it makes Dream feel closer to him. It's… It feels safe and calming, eating Cross' favourite treat.

They hug once more, although they're not clinging to each other like before. It's not desperate anymore.

They're okay. It will get better. Dream will learn to accept and love and live with his new self, whatever he will be. And Cross will be there every step of the way. Nightmare, too.

Dream hates it all with his whole being but he can do it. Despite everything, he'll pull through. He can't stay true to himself, but everything changes, and he'll change as well. It's only natural.

But he's not evil. He won't ever be. Egoism is not evil. What is evil is the curse, and they will deal with it.

There's still light in the darkness. There always is.

"Thank you," Dream whispers, "for being there for me. I love you."

Cross smiles widely, like he can't help himself, and hugs Dream just a little bit tighter. It's nice, the pressure and the warmth of him.

So very nice.

Dream will make sure it won't ever end.

。。。

Credits

Undertale © Toby Fox

Dream!Sans © jokublog

Cross!Sans © jakei95 / xtaleunderverse

Shattered Dream © galacii-gallery / shattereddreamsau

Dark Cream and Dark Cream Week © zu-is-here

X-tra Dark Cream © me (anfie / anfie-in-the-box)

。。。

Notes

How'd you like it? I personally love love love Dream's suffering in this one. He's so uncertain and insecure, and Cross is there for him to never let him fall. So much Hurt/Comfort!

Turns, twists, and paradoxes

Navigation

First | Previous

Notes

I honestly don't know how it happened. I was just writing for a while and then it's just finished??? What's even going on?.. But whatever, please enjoy!

Also, please be careful, there's some self-deprecation here because Nightmare. Yeah.

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Chapter 3

Nightmare lets Killer eat in peace, fleeing back to his room the moment he announces the need to go to the castle. It's such a risk — he just knows there'll be an ambush. The main gang left him easily, no strings attached, no words needed, but the others… Some will riot. Make him pay for how he's used them. And he'd deserve it — but he can't die, not when his brother needs him so. 

So, yes, he's stalling. Nightmare admits it. 

But Killer eats quickly — eager for a mission? Maybe, but maybe not. Nightmare doesn't even understand why Killer stays, what made him choose Nightmare instead of freedom. It'd have been different if Killer hadn't known what to do with this freedom; but he has Colour, who'd readily, happily help. And yet… 

There's a knock on the door. It's tempting to answer "Who's there?", let himself get distracted, fool around while he can; only Dream needs his big brother now more than ever, and Nightmare can't let him down. Can't let him die under the curse he somehow survived. 

He opens the door. Killer stands there, a playful smile on his face, his broken soul a target once again. Nightmare feels him bottling up his feelings, making the guardian of negativity stronger. 

"I'm ready to go, boss," Killer says, waiting for orders. 

Why? 

Once again, Nightmare doesn't ask. He thinks he couldn't bear the answer. 

"Let's go, then. Open a portal near the castle, not inside." It's honestly a miracle Nightmare's voice doesn't tremble. He's used to pretending, that's what he's done to survive under the corruption's influence for centuries, but now it's suddenly hard. Now he doesn't have an excuse to be something he isn't. Now he's by himself.

Killer tears space and time with his knife, giving way like a loyal servant he is. 

But why? 

Why? 

Why?..

Nightmare doesn't ask. He steps through the portal. Several sources of hostile negativity hit him — he was right. Someone is waiting for him. There'll be a fight. And he's weakened still. Would Killer be enough to protect them both and win? 

"We're not alone," Nightmare warns him while he closes the portal. The negativity swirls around them, feeding Nightmare's soul. The castle is dark and menacing, and so very familiar. 

Killer smiles savagely, "Let them come. I'll play, and I'll win." 

Nightmare would like to have his confidence. The servants of his corrupted self are dangerous, and most have nothing to lose. Now that he can't protect himself, now that his crown has fallen with his curse… 

They proceed quietly, cautiously. It's eerily silent, not a whistle of wind, not an echo of voice. Everything's dead, or seems to be; Nightmare knows better. It's not the realm of the dead, where Reaper would rule; it's the graveyard of hopes and dreams and all good and light, where Nightmare used to thrive with his gang of desperate rejects. Cross is not the only one to find a second chance and betray him, but there are few happy endings for those who end up by Nightmare's side.

They are ambushed in the main hall, predictably. Killer pushes Nightmare aside, yells to him not to get cornered, and rushes to fight. Nightmare watches raptly, ready to run, although he's not sure where to. Enemies could be anywhere. 

But suddenly, Killer's not alone in his struggle against a crowd. With disbelief, Nightmare recognises Murder and Horror, who join the battle without a word, the same as they left him when the curse had fallen. It gets easier then — what Error used to call the Murder Time Trio is used to fighting together, smooth and clean team work. Horror chops heads with his axe without a sign of mercy — Nightmare still remembers how he refused to harm monsters and only dealt with humans at first, but then Nightmare made him hate monsters who, unlike his dearest brother, have enough food and magic in their worlds. Yet he still only uses magic on humans; his bones are more physical than others', so they deal less damage to those who don't have actual flesh. Murder fires blasters and summons sharpest bones, turning to dust several enemies at a time. He never uses weapons beside his own magic and especially hates knives — and Killer, who uses those. Nightmare knows all about his former subordinates, their fighting styles and their insecurities the same. He's hurt them so much, and here they are, saving him. 

It ends. 

Enemies flee. Those who stay alive, that is. That's not many. 

Just like that. 

Nightmare can't get his eyes off of them, mesmerised. They're so good. 

"Killer," Murder says, not unkindly. 

"Murder," Killer returns with the same neutral tone. Those two were never friendly, not with their backstories, not with their attitudes. Not with the way Nightmare fueled their animosity. It pours right into his soul, making him stronger. 

"Nightmare," Horror notices, and then everyone stares at the one who used to be their king. 

"Are you okay, boss?" Killer asks, taking a step closer. Nightmare nods, and then, without a pause, bows. 

"Horror. Murder. Thank you for your help. You didn't have to." 

Why did they stay? Did they also hope that Nightmare would return? 

Murder huffs, shaking off the dust, and Horror responds with his deep, guttural voice, "We really didn't." 

Nightmare can't help asking, "Why are you here?" 

This time, Murder answers, "There's nowhere else for us to go." Horror nods, "It's not home, but it's somewhere to be." Murder adds, "Horror visits his brother as usual, but that's it." 

And isn't that right? They have nothing but this miserable place. Nightmare made sure of it. 

The thought makes him ache. They didn't deserve this hell. Nobody deserves something like that. Not even Nightmare himself. 

"Why did you help, then?" somehow, Nightmare finds it in himself to continue. 

He's still bowing deeply. 

"Because it's something, and you were the one who gave it to us," Horror answers easily. His single blood-red eye-light shines in the dim light of the hall. 

Nightmare chokes on words, helpless against such brutal honesty. Is it really that easy? Might that be why Killer stayed, as well? He doesn't know. 

He isn't ready to know. 

He doesn't want them here, as grateful as he is for their help. Killer wouldn't have done it alone. There were too many of them, waiting for their revenge. 

"Why don't you both go to Farmtale?" Nightmare asks, weakly. It's cruel to himself to continue, but it's cruel to them to let it end here, and Nightmare knows what he'd choose. He doesn't deserve mercy. "I know Horror befriended their Sans. Anything's better than here." 

"Not anything," Murder grumbles, crossing his hands on his chest. He must mean his AU, Nightmare thinks. Long gone, a courtesy of Error, but never forgotten. 

"It's an idea though," Horror admits. "I'll ask." 

Please do, Nightmare thinks, desperately. I want this wrecked place empty and forgotten. 

"Why'd you still call him boss?" Murder asks Killer, and Nightmare really tries not to squirm. It's a question he'd also like to know the answer to, so he listens attentively. 

"Because boss is boss," Killer shrugs. "What's so difficult about that?" 

Murder huffs again, turns around and disappears without a word. Horror smiles uncomfortably widely and teleports, too. Nightmare blinks at the empty space they leave behind. 

"Let's just go to the library," he sighs heavily. "I don't sense any more hostility in the entire AU, so that must be it." 

They go.

Nightmare knows his library quite well, but even he can't contain centuries of knowledge in his head. So he searches, ordering Killer to stand guard, just in case. There aren't many books on Multiverse even in his vast collection, so it must be quick. He feels he won't be able to find anything here, but maybe, just maybe… merely a hint, it's all he needs… 

Nightmare won't admit he doesn't know what he's doing. He has to know; he can't let his brother down once again. He already left him for centuries and almost killed him countless times. Enough betrayal. He'll do anything to redeem himself, even if he doesn't know how to be anything but evil — he was just a kid when corruption took over, after all. But he'll try. For his brother. 

There are even less books on Multiverse than Nightmare expected, some of them more like diaries by outcodes he either killed or turned to his side. But it's exactly what he wanted — perhaps there is an outcode who can help, who knows more. 

While skimming through the books, Nightmare lets himself relax a little — his broken body aches less here, where negativity's so thick the air is dark and heavy. It brings relief, though undeserved, but he really needs it to focus. 

It feels like an eternity passed when he finally finds something. In hindsight, it's rather obvious — only he doesn't know how to get there. 

Or perhaps he does. 

"Killer!" 

He teleports by Nightmare's left side so he sees him approach. 

"Did you find something, boss?" he asks, curiously. 

"I think I did," Nightmare responds, gently caressing the page he stopped on. Killer seems to stare right at his fingers, although without eye-lights there's no proof, it's merely a feeling. It does something strange to Nightmare's soul, Killer's attention.

"So what's the plan?" Killer sounds eager, tossing his knife from one hand to another.

Nightmare sighs, "We need Error. He's the only one I know who knows where to find the people we need." 

Killer stops tossing his knife. "Do we still have any of his strings left? I don't know how to find him otherwise." 

"Me neither," Nightmare admits. "And no, I don't think I have. They were hidden in the goop, but now…" 

"Does Dream have them, then?" 

"I don't know. We can't wait until the meeting anyway, I want answers before that." 

"Would he even help us?" Killer says aloud exactly what Nightmare fears. He shuts the book and goes to put everything he took back in its place, just to delay the moment he has to answer. Only suffocating negativity of this world helps him keep breathing. 

"I don't know," he finally admits. "But between you and me, I'm sure we can think of something. Error can be… unreasonable, but I'll find a way." 

"We will," Killer corrects. "You're not alone, boss." 

It's sickening how warm Nightmare feels all over. He doesn't deserve such loyalty. 

But he has to move forward. 

"Let me focus. I'll find the source of negativity in the Anti-Void, and if we're lucky, it will be Error." 

Killer nods and turns to stand guard once again. 

Why does he do it? 

Nightmare can't make himself ask, as painful as it is not to know. He closes his left eye — his right doesn't work, it doesn't see and it doesn't close, forever wide open, — and enters the meditative state. It's easier than he expected, to be completely honest. There are so many thoughts buzzing in his head, yet they all disappear in a moment when he concentrates. 

At first he only feels this world. There are several souls here, wallowing in negativity, not Horror and Murder alone. They're just not hostile, but they stay. Maybe Nightmare should try to talk to them, send them away — he really, truly wants this place empty and forgotten. Maybe later, when he's not as vulnerable. He'll need to come back here for his books, after all.

Then, he feels surrounding AUs, and then — just because he's in a place with highest level of negativity, he's not as strong without the corruption — he feels the Multiverse as a whole. It's suddenly overwhelming, although it shouldn't be surprising — he's gotten weaker indeed. Nightmare's knees would buckle and give if he weren't sitting. And then, finally, with significant effort, he feels the Anti-Void, certainly not the whole thing but some parts. That's enough. It has to be.

It's hard to pinpoint particular sources of negativity, but Nightmare knows Error and doesn't really know other residents of the Anti-Void, so it's comparatively easy to find exactly what he looks for. Error's always dissatisfied with something, even watching Undernovela and eating his favourite chocolate, surrounded by his precious dolls, or destroying yet another AU. The Multiverse won't cease existing no matter how hard Error tries, and it leaves him mad — in both senses of the word, angry and crazy. Nightmare knows Error, although he's not a normal subordinate, more like an ally with conflicting interests — he wants AUs gone while Nightmare wants them suffering but alive. There's no emotions in the dead. That's Reaper's territory. 

So Nightmare finds Error and, hesitantly, opens a portal. Anti-Void is fickle, unstable, they might as well end up in a completely different part than where Error is. Only errors and other residents of the Anti-Void can navigate it well. 

This time, Killer steps through first, ready to protect. Nightmare follows. 

The portal closes, leaving them with endless, maddening whiteness.

They need to find Error quickly. It'll take time to negotiate, and Anti-Void is never patient with its visitors. 

Killer turns around, grinning at Nightmare, then readies his knife and moves forward. Nightmare goes right after his… whatever Killer is now. 

He'll deal with that later. 

For now, he trusts Killer watch their surroundings and tilts his head back to see if there are any blue strings in the "ceiling".

He thinks he sees something. They go faster.

。。。

Credits

Undertale © Toby Fox

Dreamtale © jokublog

Killer!Sans © rahafwabas

Murder!Sans © ask-dusttale

Horror!Sans © horrortalecomic

Dark Cream © zu-is-here

X-tra Dark Cream © me (anfie / anfie-in-the-box)

Read it on ao3

Read Russian version on ficbook or fanficus

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Notes

I don't know how I feel about the fight scene. I kind of skipped it because I've never written any (and because Nightmare doesn't participate in the fight), but is it okay? Feel free to tell me your thoughts on that and everything else, anything at all!

Hope you enjoyed, and take care 🌻

。。。

Navigation

Next (to be added)

Turns, Twists, and Paradoxes

Notes

Bet you wanted to hear from Dream or, if he's still not available, Cross. Or Nightmare, wouldn't that be interesting? But alas, everyone's busy either having their world torn apart, or trying to help collect the pieces of said shattered world, or investigating! So, here, have Killer (and Ccino's cats) instead :3

。。。

Chapter 2

The voice, Killer thinks, absent-mindedly petting one of Ccino's cats. How interesting. 

Killer knows voices. Killer's familiar with voices. Every time he makes a decision he hears them — the two devils sitting not on his shoulders but inside his head.

It’s all in his head. 

It’s just that boss said it like in their case the voice has its own consciousness. 

To be honest, Killer would like to say he's familiar with that as well. But it's foolish to deceive himself; Chara is but an embodiment of his own darkness. A part of himself, conveniently taken another form in his consciousness. 

After all, it's all in their heads. 

Purrincess, who lied quietly on Killer's lap and purred loudly just a moment ago, dodges his palm out of the blue, bites his finger — gently, not at all painfully; almost a «thank you» — and goes away. Doesn't stop purring though. Killer watches her go, and his soul is full of something resembling fondness; and when the cat disappears around the corner, he shrugs and gets up from the floor. Stretches till his bones crack. 

It seems he has to find something else to do. 

He doesn't want to go downstairs; there's Ccino, and he's working. Take-away only though: boss asked for silence as soon as they got back here. Not that it would stop Killer, it's more of an excuse than anything. If he admits the truth at least to himself, he simply doesn't know what to make of Ccino and how to behave around him. 

Their first meeting was… strange, to put it mildly. No more than what's happened not too long ago, a few hours at most. But strange. Boss didn't comment his choice in any way — he doesn't have to, but curiosity is Killer's weakness, — and Ccino merely asked what he can do despite his astonishment and fear, so apparent in his trembling voice and sockets wide open. Got them bandages and gave them sanctuary. 

Killer took a coach in the living room. He doesn't mind sharing if a cat — sometimes a few — would like to lie down there.

It turns out boss has his own room in this house — only half-habitable, since the first floor is a coffee shop. Apparently Ccino looks after it in boss' absence, carefully as possible — maintains order but doesn't touch personal possessions, as many of them as there are. Killer knows by experience that boss wouldn't accept anything less, as well as wouldn't leave his wherever. Killer's glanced at the bedroom itself once or twice and haven't seen anything of interest but the shelves cluttering the walls and full of various tomes. It'd be a ridiculous lie to tell Killer's not curious to know what part of boss' collection is relocated here — or what Ccino did to deserve such trust. 

Or, for example, why he's still (relatively) okay, even though he's obviously known Nightmare for a while and boss isn't known for his mercy. What kind of demons does this version of Sans have, so helpful and gentle, that it has attracted attention of the king of negativity himself? 

There's certainly something intriguing about this Ccino. Killer loves riddles, although he's not sure yet how to start solving this one. There's seemingly no rush — it looks like boss is here to stay, and Killer's by his side. Killer's going to follow Nightmare everywhere, as long as he's allowed. This choice has been made a long time ago. 

With a light, inaudible steps Killer exits the living room, goes downstairs and finally enters the backyard enclosed with a short wooden fence covered with ivy. 

Or whatever it is that creates this distinctive atmosphere of coziness and warmth, where anyone would belong. Feel at home. 

It’s been a long while since Killer has felt anything like this. He's not sure how to deal with it. 

He wonders if boss feels it too. But Killer wonders about Nightmare a lot and doesn't get many answers. He doesn't mind. There was a time when he had to pay a lot more than unsatisfied curiosity to stay by boss' side. And that didn't matter either. 

The sun warms but doesn't blind. There's a cat resting on the wide swing, Bar Cat — it's impossible not to recognise him among the other residents of this place — his short white fur, covered by smallest black spots that form patterns, wouldn't allow to mistake him for anyone else. Bar lies curled up in a ball, hiding his nose under a paw, so Killer can't see neither a spot on his cheek nor his ever-changing irises but he knows they are there nonetheless. 

Killer weightlessly comes closer, sits on the other half of the swing as carefully as possible; Bar Cat wiggles his ear but otherwise doesn't react, doesn't even open his eyes. A success in Killer's books. 

Suddenly Killer realises he's actually smiling — barely, not at all his usual grin, wide, laughing and not really sincere. He reaches out to Bar, puts his hand on his back but doesn't pet — Bar doesn't like it when they're petting him. Just holding him is okay though; here, he's purring through the drowsiness… Good. 

Maybe Killer has really lacked this kind of small, warm accomplishments. 

As if… as if Papyrus… 

No, Killer won't think about it. He refuses. There's a cat version of one of his — former? — enemies, and Bar Cat's not easy to approach or please, so Killer's just going to engoy his little win. No memories. 

None at all. 

Especially not those that belong to a person long gone. Not to Killer who got them like an inheritance of sorts — along with the body and, he supposes, the base of his soul. As weird as it is to think about it now when there's nothing resembling a normal white heart turned upside down, a soul of a monster that became a base of his own. Right now it also resembles an upsude down heart, red, fuzzy and, as usual, consisting of the bigger emracing part and the filled smaller part. A target still, but a heart-shaped one. 

Killer wouldn't allow himself this if boss hasn't ordered — and it has been an order, not a request. "Rest up, Killer," was what he had said, without any details, open to interpretation, but Killer wants to think he undersood what boss meant. Never before has he allowed Killer to be at the first stage. The second one has suited them both. The third had Killer wary — losing control meant losing the last shards of himself he had left, even temporarily. He tried not to think about the fourth one. 

Bar barely moves but Killer still takes his hand off in case the cat would with to change his position or relocate. Neither happens; Bar stretches and starts grooming himself with intent. Killer wouldn't be surprised if the cat freezed in the middle of the movement, then coughed heavily and darted off where he didn't intend to go. Not the exact reflection of Ink's forgetfullness but distinct enough. And unlike with the guardian of AUs, Killer's enamoured by Bar Cat — and many other of Ccino's cats as well, of course. He's not hiding it. 

There's a moment when Bar indeed freezes with a paw near his head, and he looks so adorable and ridiculous that Killer can't help a smile. His soul, Killer knows, blurrs, determination whirls, mixing with warmth and something akin to fondness. 

Ccino is a mystery Killer's yet to solve, but his cats…. Killer doesn't know how Ccino and Nightmare met or what makes this place safe enough for boss to leave his books here or, what's more, to come here when he's most vulnerable and wounded, to trust, to ask for help when it's needed the most; Killer doesn't know anything at all, but he's glad to be here — as glad as it is possible for a creature like him. 

Yet another mystery is the little guardian of positivity, now fallen. Dream acts almost the same as before, as much as Killer can judge by their battle encounters; at the same time Nightmare, boss, had been different under the curse. There's no cruelty anymore, only toughness. No aggression and no apparent possessiveness. Before Nightmare would never let him go, under no circumstances, yet now he's ready to let Killer go at any moment — in such a fragile state their deal is now. Killer's not sure how to feel about it. His life belongs to Nightmare, it's a simple, unquestionable fact that nothing will ever change. Why boss thinks otherwise is beyond him. Sure, the others have left… but he's not the others. 

Killer absent-mindedly pets Bar, and for some reason he lets him. Killer can't help a chucle at the irony — he doesn't get along with Ink at all, possibly won't ever. Although who knows. Ink's weird. 

Dream's more weird. Especially now when he's under the curse. Killer has to admit he's still trying to understand what he's heard. The conversation between the twins — and stars, does he see the resemblance now — has been intense as ever. Maybe more than Killer with his broken soul is able to realise. There's one single thing that bothered him during the whole thing — if boss says not to trust his former self, how can they trust current Dream? And Cross? 

He doesn't even want to think about the latter. Just. No. At least Cross has never been in Ccino's coffee shop, which means there's no can version of him yet. But something tells Killer it's about to change. Indeed, boss ordered to give the traitor the code to Fluffytale. They'll be here, although Killer's not sure when, but they will be here. There's only hope they won't ruin everything. What if Dream looses control? Not that Killer's worried about Ccino or especially other residents of this AU. Cats are a different matter though. Ccino loves them with his whole heart and goes all out to take care of them, and since Dreamvs seemingly stuck somewhere between positivity and negativity, it's a perfect source of shattered positivity. If Killer's even right and that's what Dream feeds on and not a different kind of emotions. 

All's left for Killer is to stay on guard. Boss knows what he's doing. 

In the corner of his eye Killer sees how Purrsephone — cat version of Life from Reapertale — leaves the house. When and why the goddess visited Fluffytale, Killer doesn't know and, despite his curiosity, won't ask. If Ccino wishes to, he'll tell by himself. After all they have to fill the awkward silence between them most of the time. 

Purrsephone comes closer and rubs against Killer's legs. He bends down and scratches her ear, getting satisfied purring in return. Cats are fascinating creatures, stunning and incredible. 

Weak wind brings the smell of fresh pastries and coffee. Killer considers going in and grabbing something for a bite, but changes his mind when Purrsephone climbs on his lap. Cats are more important. One can't just stand up when there's a cat on their lap. Besides, there's no rush — boss is in his room, digging into his books, and isn't going to come out any time soon, and the only thing left for Killer is resting. 

Voice, he thinks once again. What voice did boss mean? It'd be nice to get an explanation but Killer has to follow orders, not ask questions. But Dream didn't seem to understand what his twin meant as well. Maybe Killer will get his explanation after all, even if it won't be intended for him. 

Lost in thought, he absent-mindedly pets Purrsephone's back, savouring the sound and vibration of her purring. His legs soon get numb under her weight, but he doesn't mind. There'll be time to stretch, as there'll be time to eat — there'll be time for everything. No rush. 

He doesn't catch the moment he closes his sockets and falls asleep, but when he's aware of himself and his surroundings next, there's no Purrsephone on his lap, and the sunset shines through the trees. You've loosened up, Killer thinks with reproach but there's nothing to do about it now. He stands up, stretching, shakes his arms and legs. Enters the house, inhaling the smell of pastries and coffee. It's hard not to loosen up here, he admits, even in his thoughts quiet, muffled, not to be overheard. It's autumn on Fluffytale's Surface, or, well, Indian summer, warm, sunny and endlessly beautiful. There are no monsters around, as far as Killer knows, or no monsters at all. Killer recognised that look in Ccino's eyes — the look of someone who survived multiple genocidal timelines. How Ccino ended up on the Surface, Killer hasn't the slightest idea, but he once again won't ask. Not out of tact, just not to make Ccino's life easier. He'll have to find the topics for conversations by himself, if he wants to. If he doesn't, well, Killer doesn't need it anyway. Curiosity killed the cat, although it won't matter for them, they have nine lives; Killer wouldn't want them loose a single one.

Killer loves cats. Ccino does, too. 

"Killer," Ccino greets him, getting from behind the counter to the main door and flipping the sign. 

"Ccino," Killer replies as neutrally as he's able. "Closing early?" 

Ccino nods shortly. "Nightmare… asked for silence," he shrugs awkwardly. Killer thinks he knows the reason behind the pause — Ccino wanted to say "demanded" instead of "asked for". But this time boss indeed asked, even if it was rather insistent, stressing how important it is — a matter of life and death. 

"If you get me something to eat, I'll help you clean up," Killer suggest. Sure, he doesn't have to, but making small deals is half the fun. And he's got nothing better to do. 

Ccino accepts and once again goes to the counter. "Any preferences? Tea or coffee?" 

Thinking it over, Killer shrugs him off, "Whatever, something hot."

Ccino salutes unexpectedly, "Got it!" Then his enthusiasm fizzles out, like he's embarrassed by his own playfulness. Or maybe he is. Killer's not great at reading others, although he's worse at reading himself. 

He chooses the farthest from the window table. Humans unnerve him. Remind him of what sits in his head, first-class let-down as ever. 

"How have you ever situated on the Surface?" Killer breaks the silence first. "Doesn't the skeleton monster raise… questions?" 

"Nightmare gave me an illusion disk," Ccino replies uncertainly. "Not sure how that works but it makes people see what they expect to see. Which is another human. As far as I know, everyone sees me differently, but that's okay, people just think there are a few employees working here instead of one. Which is logical, without magic I… wouldn't handle it."

Ccino's voice quietens at the end, and after all he stumbles and stops talking. Regrets he said too much? Rather possible. 

" I see," Killer says, just so the silence doesn't hang between them. 

Ccino's dishes clink, and then he blurts out, as if he's barely dared to ask, "What were you doing all day?" 

"Nothing special," Killer responds easily. "Mostly kept your cats company, then napped in the backyard. Boss didn't leave any orders." 

Besides resting, that is. 

Ccino hums, saying without words, I hear you. 

"You can do things not on orders though," he says so quietly Killer barely hears him. But he does, so he decides to reply, "I've been a servant for a long time. A soldier. Loyal and ready to do anything." And, unexpectedly even for himself, confesses, "If boss doesn't need my service anymore, I don't know what to do with myself." 

There's so much truth in his own words, so much uncertainty on the verge of fear that Killer winces. He never counted on such sincerity, and Ccino hardly needs it. Stop this, he orders himself. 

Breathes in.

Breathes out. 

And stops. 

Ccino doesn't respond. Doesn't find words? Scared off by genuineness? Killer doesn't know. Doesn't want to know. He's not ready. 

Finally Ccino brings him a warm sandwich and what smells like herbal tea. He doesn't get to bite. 

Nightmare stands at the door, and the look on his face is grim as ever. 

"We have to go back to the castle." 

。。。

Credits

Undertale © Toby Fox

Dreamtale © jokublog

Cross © jakei95 / xtaleunderverse

Shattered!Dream © shattereddreamsau

Dark Cream © zu-is-here

X-tra Dark Cream © me (anfie / anfie-in-the-box)

Read it on ao3

Read Russian version on ficbook or fanficus

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Notes

The last (and the first for this chapter) words of Nightmare refer to the ninth chapter of Dark Cream comic, where Cross says, "...We have to find Nightmare." Why is it a reference? Because their intonation sounds identically in my head. Nightmare's determined and somewhat afraid.

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Navigation

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X-tra Dark Cream & Dark Cream Week

Notes

It's short but pretty much finished, so here it is. Again, nothing much, and no spoilers for Turns, twists, and paradoxes either. Some self-reflection and a bit of much needed warmth.

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In Control

Dream wanders around, his steps light and quiet, his thoughts loud and tangled. After all… 

It is Dream who hurts all those innocent people.

It is Dream who ruins lives and damages worlds beyond repair.

It is Dream who corrupts and twists and spreads hatred and fear and sometimes kills. 

It is Dream who does everything he's once sought to end or at least decrease. 

There's no excuse. An explanation, maybe, but who cares? Definitely not those he's left to rot in their hopeless universes, utterly broken by him.

He's not a good person anymore. Cannot afford to be, sure. It's a matter of survival, alright. There's a million reasons why, but not a single one and not all of them are enough to justify what he does. 

Once full of mercy, full of love, he'd now walk a million miles to see others' worlds on fire. Figuratively mostly, although sometimes that kind of disaster is indeed the best — as a distraction or on its own.

It kills Dream to not be the way he used to be. It kills him to go against his nature, slowly but surely changing. 

He's adapting, one might say. Maybe even Dream himself might say that. Because that's right. That's true. That's what he does. But is that enough? All he ever wanted was to be good, and for his brother and everyone to be happy. Funny how he failed so miserably. Although... might it ever work out? In the end? 

"Dream?" 

Oh. Cross is awake. Dream turns around, smiling despite himself at the sight of his slightly sleepy love. 

"I'm okay," he assures, first and foremost. As okay as can be, they both know. No need to clarify. 

Cross gives him a small, relieved smile. "Good." Rubs his eyes, stretches a little, yawns without a sound. So pretty and so… relaxed, almost; something they can barely afford these days; never could, and likely never will, not fully. It's a bittersweet sight, how this relaxation slowly seeps out of Cross' body and mind, replaced with concentration and resolve. That's what they need, but that's not what either of them would want. 

Not that anyone's ever asked for their opinion. They'll just have to make do. As pretty much always, but the situation has never been this dire. This… desperate. 

Dream lowers himself on his knees in front of Cross, stretches both hands to him, and just for a moment, nothing matters anymore. 

It's Dream who holds Cross' hand in his two, caressing gently, reverently almost.

It's Dream whom Cross is staring at, so very lovingly, so fondly it hurts a little. 

It's Dream who'll hug Nightmare the next time they meet, what feels like a fleeting touch that's never quite enough, no matter how long it lasts — and it can last longer than it could with anybody else, for Nightmare is a being of negative energy. Every second is precious, and Dream can't possibly get enough.

Dream’s in control. He'll do everything to make sure it stays that way. For everyone, and for himself most of all.

It's about time to learn to be selfish. If not on the brink of life and death, while by some miracle he's still the one in control, when else? 

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Notes

There's actually a reference in this one! "Once full of mercy, full of love, he'd now walk a million miles to see others' worlds on fire" — this sentence is changed lyrics of the Undertale song RUINous by Go! Child:

Once full of mercy, full of love / You fear just what I have become / You know I'd walk a million miles / To set your world on fire

It was quite unexpected even for myself, yet here it is. And it fits, somehow. Dream's world is indeed in the ruins, after all. And if he's not full of hate I don't know who is.

I've a question though. Does this piece feel finished? It is for me, but it's uncharacteristically short so I'm uncertain. Would be nice to hear the opinion of someone else.

Thanks for reading, and take care 🌻

X-tra Dark Cream & Dark Cream Week

Notes

By some miracle, I finished this a few days before the event, so please have this little thing. It's not even a spoiler for Turns, twists, and paradoxes, since there's not much plot or would-building or whatnot. Just some feelings and mild info gathering without any details (again, not to spoil anything). You may consider it a teaser of some kind if you'd like.

For those who are interested in X-tra Dark Cream, here's the link to the first chapter of the main work (with beautiful fanart!) and the first teaser (also for Dark Cream Week, by the way!)

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On Edge

Cross is right on the edge of a universe, some kind of Outerfell or something, watching its code carefully.

。。。

Dream is waiting for him in the Anti-void, always on edge, always somewhere between life and death, so fragile and so strong it fascinates even him.

。。。

Cross rubs his tired, sore eyes. Looking for weak points is never easy; it's a boring, thankless job, something he's not fond of at all.

。。。

Dream is sick of waiting. He hates it when Cross has to leave, but he's also useless where Cross is not. He can't see the code, and he can't trust himself to stay the way he is, so instead, he stays put.

。。。

Cross misses Dream greatly. It hurts to be away for long, and what he's doing always takes so very long. Scanning the whole universe's code, its every timeline and character, is time-consuming for sure. But as Nightmare said, Dream's power is highly specific, so they need to know what they're doing. Cross will make damn sure they do.

。。。

The lack of Cross' warmth and complicated emotions, always love and always heartbreak, affects Dream greatly. The Anti-void is, like it's supposed to be, empty, and while it's safer this way for everyone including Dream, it's also suffocating in a way he can't possibly explain. Weakening, too, but that won't last long: Cross will be back, and soon they'll ruin yet another world.

。。。

Cross absent-mindedly plays with the locket on his neck. It carries so much, reminds him of the path he's taken, with all good and all bad, all success and all mistakes, and the choices he's made, and how far he's come, despite everything. How far they've come — he's not alone anymore. Never will have to be. It also reminds him how there's a purpose in his pain – something he desperately needs to remember to stay as determined as he is. And when he's determined, he doesn’t need hope anymore.

。。。

Dream plays with the ring on his finger, thinking how he should get one for Cross. Maybe when he's not like this. Or maybe earlier, if Nightmare doesn't think of something soon. Dream is tired of waiting. There's just never the best time, every single time is wrong. Might as well just do it. The thought fills his with determination, not much different from Cross' own. With that, Dream doesn’t need hope. And being as weak to positivity as he is, that's all he could ever ask for — to not need hope. Cross has taught him this, and who knew it'd become not only convenient but crucial for survival. What a life they have.

。。。

What a life they have. Once again getting ready to crush a whole alternate universe with their own dreams — at that, it seems to be an easy one, a classic, dare Cross say. Would be enough to destroy the barrier, violent monsters and scared but strong humans will do the rest without their help. Dream'll get a whole lot of shattered positivity, even from such a dark world, the usual Fell one, — there are still kids and even some adults who love and hope and dream, it's not entirely rotten with misery and hate. Unlike some they stumbled onto.

。。。

Recollecting some of the nastier ones, Dream winces. He's never had the access to them before, simply couldn't get somewhere lacking any positivity, but now that he's able to, he gets to know just how bleak, cruel, woeful and just sinister the Multiverse can be. There really are worlds where there's nothing for him to shatter. It's unnerving to think about, even now, on the brink of death. Everyone deserves happiness, right?.. But everyone also deserves to live, and for that, they need balance. A universe destroyed means a universe created, a world racked with fear and hate means somewhere there is a world of prosperity and joy. That's how it works, Dream knows. That's also why he's not afraid to meddle — and surely he's meddling, has been since the beginning, just less than his brother. The universes exist without their help or any interference at all. They weren't even supposed to be here, as Nightmare found out; it's not even their Multiverse. Suits them right to be with those who don't exactly fit in as well, both Cross and Killer being neither monsters nor humans, and Killer with his wrecked mind, and Cross with his unstable, manic creator, one who just were never supposed to be in the same world with his creations; it's all so complicated... Ccino is the only person of some sort of norm among them, and even he is a mystery. Dream wishes he had some of his coffee; it'd remind him of Cross and Nightmare, warming him inside and out.

。。。

Cross would honestly kill for some of Ccino's coffee at this point. And maybe even a cat on his lap. Purrfection, preferably; he must admit, he's rather fond of his cat-self. More so than he is of himself, if he's being entirely honest... Cross is getting tired, restless. He's not a patient man; he's a fighter, not a clerk sorting through the files. But that's what he needs to fight later and as a good guard, he does what needs to be done. Even if it bores him half to death. They must be aware of where and when they put themselves into, what they should exploit and what they have to avoid. There's too much at stake to take any risks. There's Dream’s precious life at stake; and really, Cross' own as well. He doesn't know what he'd do with himself if he failed. So he won't fail. It's easy like that. They're not okay, probably won't ever be, at least not entirely; but that's alright. Maybe they've got a real bad hand, so what? They'll live with that. They just will. Everyone works hard to make it happen, Dream most of all, with Cross and — as much as it pains him to admit — Nightmare following suit. They're... a somewhat good team, even. Somehow.

。。。

They're a surprisingly good team. Not the best, but… As disconnected and disharmonised as Dream and Nightmare are, as complicated as Cross' relationship with both Nightmare and Killer is, they're doing well. It's… It seems almost possible that they can do it, sometimes. That Dream won't die sooner or later. And Dream's so afraid of dying. But what terrifies him more is his brother's fate — losing control, being merely an observer of the deeds of an entity none of them can quite comprehend. That helplessness just might kill him. Almost killed Nightmare, too, — and isn't that a terrifying thought to think. Dream does his best to shoo that kind of thoughts away, into the farther corners of his mind, but that never really works out. Denial is not the best way to solve one's problems, as easy as it might seem. It's just running away. Something Dream cannot possibly afford. He needs to be here, to stay present. Otherwise he's as good as lost. They don't want that. That can't allow that to happen. Too much is at stake. And Dream… Dream doesn’t want to die, regardless of the consequences. Simple like that. Natural even.

。。。

No matter how long it takes, it's only natural Cross' investigation comes to an end, even if it's sooner rather than later. Here, on the edge of the universe, he's just got all he needed. He can get back to Dream now. Check on him. Report. Make plans. See him again — and isn't that a miracle every single time. See the fight behind his love's haunted eye, the darkness he used to hide so well and the light that now struggles to come out, and so much never-ending pain Cross just knows is there somewhere. It's an honor and a joy to be helpful when Dream needs him so. And it's time to go home. From one edge to another, yet Cross wouldn't have it any other way.

。。。

Dream awaits on the edge of life and death, struggling to keep existing. Every breath is a victory worth celebrating, although they cannot afford to relax, they still do just that. Every glance, every touch, every moment together — and they'll be together once again soon — that's the best celebration. Dream wouldn't have it any other way.

。。。

The portal opens, the feeling of familiar magic of the other soothing and reassuring. They take a step, two, three closer. They embrace, relishing in the presence of the other. Breathe in, breathe out together, not in sync but that's details. Both are alive. Both are good.

。。。

They're constantly on edge. But it's okay. So far, they're balancing just fine. One day, they'll get out and find their ground. 

。。。

Credits:

Undertale © Toby Fox

Dreamtale © jokublog

Cross © jakei95 /xtaleunderverse

Shattered!Dream © shattereddreamsau

Dark Cream © zu-is-here

X-tra Dark Cream © me (anfie / anfie-in-the-box)

Read Russian version of the main work on ficbook (link to be added) or fanficus

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Notes

Nothing much, just some feels. And parallels, since Dream and Cross are that sweet.

Purrfection is Cross' cat-version in Ccino's cafe, yes. Cross loves him dearly.

Will I include this in the main work? No idea. We'll see how it goes. Have it nonetheless.

Also, I do love how differently the two miss each other. Cross is open about it; Dream has to find his way to express somewhat positive emotions connected to love. So he doesn't just miss Cross, he's irritated. He has to link his positivity to some negativity, has to flip it every living second, and if that's not hard work I don't know what is. Especially for someone so naturally positive and light as Dream used to be. Fascinating.

Turns, twists, and paradoxes

Notes

If two amazing illustrations are anything to go by, people seem to especially like the ending of the first chapter. That made me think. What was up with Cross during Dream’s breakdown?

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X-tra 1

Cross doesn't know what to think. His soul is frozen, and his mind is on fire, that's what it feels like. So cold, so hot, burning and hurting all the same.

He closes the portal, somewhat comforted by the familiarity of the process. It feels so natural. It's been so long since that time when he had no idea how to do that, or about the Multiverse and code.

It is not the time for reminiscing. Cross' eyes never leave Dream’s figure, so close yet so distant. His love's fighting so much more than just inner demons. That voice Nightmare so insistently warned Dream about. The negativity. The curse.

All too soon Dream breaks under the pressure — fortunately, not in a way that would matter in the long run. Just for now. Cross grits his teeth as his love falls on the knees like a marionette with its strings suddenly cut. Like there's nothing to hold on to.

Cross doesn't move. Doesn't make a sound. His soul aches and his eye-lights are fuzzy, although no tears fall. More than anything, he wants to get down beside Dream and hug him tight, hiding from the world in the embrace. Whisper reassuring words or stay silent, coax into talking his pain out or stroke the back of his skull without anything said, or everything at once, just... be there. Be close. Give solace and protection.

More than anything, Cross wants that.

Only... This isn't about him.

So, as Dream weeps and wails, tears streaming from his only good socket down the cheek, sobs and incoherent screams escaping his throat, Cross stands guard. Although they are in the void, no threat should come their way. But it's not the outside world Cross readies himself to protect Dream from. After all, the greatest danger is within.

Unsure what to do with his hands, Cross clenches both into fists. It'd be so much easier if there were someone physical to fight.

Nothing's ever been simple in their life.

Suddenly, Dream lets out a long, loud, wordless cry filled with raw pain. Cross can’t help but jerk to his side, wishing to hold him, show him he's not alone, he'll never be. Anything to share his misery, if not take it away fully.

Cross doesn't move. It's not the time, not yet. His haste could hurt Dream even more. They can't afford that.

Dream keeps screaming and soon finds his words. Quickly, abruptly he bawls about all the injustice and heartbreak the world has ever brought upon him, his soul too wretched and his mind reeling, words blending with no hope to understand any of them. Cross only catches Nightmare’s name a few times, something about the Tree, apples, and being guardians. It’s for the best, he thinks, for Dream is likely not ready to share everything he now spills into the world. Cross needs to know what’s going on, but he also respects Dream’s boundaries. He’d never overstep on purpose. He stays in his place, waiting with all the patience he’s got for Dream to pour his pain out.

For now, Dream’s the only one who can help himself. As much as this uselessness hurts, as easy as it is for Cross to deem himself worthless because of that, he’s determined enough to continue. Despite everything.

Dream needs him. As soon as he’s ready to get help, Cross will be there. For now, he lets Dream weep.

。。。

Credits:

Undertale © Toby Fox

Dreamtale © jokublog

Cross © jakei95 / xtaleunderverse

Shattered!Dream © shattereddreamsau

Dark Cream © zu-is-here

X-tra Dark Cream © me (anfie / anfie-in-the-box)

Read it on ao3

Read Russian version on ficbook or fanficus

。。。

Notes

I never intended to do anything like this. It's just what you all get for beind such a lovely audience (;

Thanks for reading, and take care!

。。。

Navigation

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Turns, twists, and paradoxes

Notes

I'm happy to announce the official beginning of X-tra Dark Cream. The story follows Dark Cream comic by wonderful @zu-is-here, the timeline changes only at the very ending (or does it?), so if you somehow missed it, do take your time and read it first. That also makes my other series relevant to this one.

Also there was a teaser some time ago, go check it out if you're interested!

That being said, enjoy!

。。。

Chapter 1

“You’re still such a crybaby...”

Indeed, Dream thinks. That is true. But that’s alright, because...

“I got you.”

Yeah. That’s why, Dream concludes, squeezing his only good eye socket shut. That is exactly why. After all, he feels the safest in his big brother’s loving arms. Their place is by each other’s side. But...

It’s only Nightmare’s illusion that falls, while the curse stays strong, unalterable perhaps, killing Dream slowly but surely; at this moment he feels especially vividly how the negativity so concentrated it gets physical embodiment as viscous dark liquid envelops his broken body, every relatively intact bone and every bone chip, big or tiny, — his whole being, progressively getting hold of the soul as well, one the guardian was never supposed to have in the first place.

Aghast, Dream acts without thinking, blindly following his heart, and desperately hugs his brother tighter, seeking warmth, solace... love. When Nightmare returns the embrace, Dream can’t help a sigh, half relieved, half surprised at such trust. It makes him feel in a very certain way like something is growing inside of him until it blooms, and it then grows even more, overwhelming him. That feeling, Dream easily realises, is grim determination to live up to Nightmare’s trust, and never betray it at any cost, and only make it stronger.

The brothers are all too focused on their newfound (perhaps, well forgotten old?..) closeness they both need so much, and utterly stunned by such an unexpected outcome, for the curse within one remains, yet both are alive, and neither is going to kill the other. How can it be?

They don’t hear the hurried steps or the knives clanking. The sharp wave of negativity is what’s impossible to miss or ignore. As the twins’ attention snaps back to the world around them, Cross’ hard voice suddenly rings out all too close, so much closer than it’s supposed to be. “Don’t you dare,” he says, and there’s a warning and a threat in his words.

Dream opens his eye socket and lets Nightmare go, regardless of how much he wants to stay like this, if only a little longer. What he sees is Cross’ back right in front of them, barely two steps away. His huge knife is nowhere to be seen, but fortunately, Killer seems unarmed as well. How long are they standing like that? Has Killer put his weapon away willingly, or has Cross managed to disarm him in a fight? Dream looks around yet doesn’t see the glint of metal anywhere. Apparently, this one was resolved without violence. Something tells him that’s a good sign.

Oh, stars. What is he even thinking about?

But if his thoughts weren’t focused on all those unimportant little things, the only one left would keep banging in his head, This can’t be happening. It is impossible. Impossible. Impossible. This thought is almost as heavy and viscous as the negativity covering Dream’s body, and it hurts just as much, and fear has its cold claws deep in his soul, and everything is just too much. Unbearable. Dream wants to scream and cannot make a sound. Only breathe. Only watch as Killer and Cross stand in front of each other, both tense and not intending to give up.

Nothing happens, but that doesn’t last long. Nightmare’s the one to take a step forward. “Killer. That’s enough,” he says.

Brother’s firm voice finally helps Dream return to reality. Panic goes away, and old yet bright memories take its place. A long time ago, Nightmare used a somewhat similar tone to soothe Dream when thunderstorms came, so confident and proud, but never unreachable. On the contrary, so close and familiar. Loving. So much time has passed, so many challenges and hardship and pain, yet some things stay the same. Dream sees and feels that so vividly, only for a moment, but that is suddenly enough to give him the strength to wipe the tears. Which makes it easier to see the trembling of Nightmare’s hands, although hidden subtly behind his back. Dream just knows better, notices how his brother holds himself tight, as if his life depended on it. He’s scared, too. The realisation lifts part of the weight off Dream’s shoulders. There are no more tears. Nothing to wipe.

Killer chooses this very same moment to raise his arms at a deliberately slow pace and make a few steps forward, stopping right beside Cross, who turns around to face the twins. Only now Dream can see how unnaturally calm his face is. He’s closed himself off and put on a mask. Not that it helps much, for Dream feels Cross’ bewilderment and dread as clearly as his own, feels how they dangerously verge on despair. But every second Cross is all too aware that shattered hopes and dreams would make the curse stronger and weaken Dream, and that hyper-awareness must be the only thing keeping him together.

Well, to be fair, he’s also overfilled with determination. That extraordinary force would never let his soul drown in despair, even if hope vanished without a trace.

Dream truly is so, so lucky.

He’s fallen into the stream of chaotic thoughts and emotions not only his own but also the others’, and thus, when Nightmare starts talking once again, Dream doesn’t realise it right away. This time it’s Cross’ attentive gaze that breaks him out of trance, worried and nonetheless warm. Yes, despite everything, the warmth is still there.

They nod to each other almost simultaneously, trying to do it subtly, but at the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter if Nightmare or Killer notice their quiet exchange. Right now, it’s nowhere near the top of their priorities.

“...So I’ve no idea.”

The words don’t make sense at first, yet Dream feels the urge to follow Nightmare’s voice, to lean closer in a desperate, futile attempt to fill the void inside. He... He missed his big brother so much. And at the moment, Nightmare somehow looks just like his old self. Even better, for he’s become grown-up... and so very strong.

They both have.

The thought concludes everything, letting Dream focus on the conversation. Nightmare’s words are obviously an answer, not just a statement. Cross was silent, Dream would have captured the sound of his voice otherwise, no matter how deep in thought he was lost. That leaves Killer. What could he have asked? What do they do next? Then again, it’s not like there are any more important questions at hand. Only those that can wait.

Cross makes the last step forward, standing now right beside Dream, so strong and devoted, always ready to be relied on; Nightmare, in turn, steps away, although not toward Killer, who intently watches their every movement while barely moving, himself. All of this seems too much like a weird improvised dance full of awkwardness and tension, and that almost makes Dream laugh. Cough is the only sound he’s able to make. Cross gives him a worried look, so Dream shakes his head wordlessly. Everything’s alright, as much as possible in the utter chaos of their messed up lives.

“How are you feeling?” Nightmare asks. His voice is even and his expression is calm, yet Dream is certain his brother’s hands are still shaking, although hidden well behind his back.

He doesn’t get the chance to answer. Killer jumps in, “How do we know when we wouldn’t be able to trust him anymore?”

Nightmare’s gaze becomes remorseful, he furrows his brows, and even his single eye-light seems darker. He answers, weighing each and every word, “I was in Dream’s position almost all my life. I reckon, if anybody can see that line, it must be me.”

Dream’s fists clench. His brother has become so much better at pretending he’s perfectly alright and has everything under control, good enough that even Dream almost falls for that.

Almost, though. Dream is rather certain he knows better even after all those years apart. Years they spent fighting for Dream’s life — one brother tried to end it and another did all he could to keep it, — and yet the true Nightmare was still somewhere in there, deep-deep inside. Fighting for his own life, apparently, since the negativity hadn’t devastated him completely. Hadn’t ruined him either, it seems, at least not in the ways that would truly make a difference. Still, who knows how much damage is irreversible...

Nightmare is strong. So very strong. Dream wants to be proud of him, so much it hurts, only positive emotions harm him as well. Nowhere to run from this pain, no magical switch to turn it off, nothing to soothe it. Whatever he chooses, the consequences are the same. Dream tells about exactly that, as honestly as he can, “Positivity makes me weaker. It hurts.” After all, untruthfulness cannot do any good, and they need all the good they can get. It’s past time they learn that lesson. Start grasping the idea.

Nightmare frowns in response, and his grim expression makes Dream think. Was brother suffering like I am now? Maybe, it was easier for him, because he’s made of negativity as well... Perhaps, he was enduring agony so much worse, for a thousand reasons or for no reason at all.

Dream’s soul feels a bit heavier with an odd combination of compassion and fear. The darkness pushes and presses on, immediately spotting the weakness, using it to its advantage. It really would be so much simpler if Dream didn’t have any emotions in the first place.

“And negativity?” Nightmare asks in a heedful manner, like talking to a child. Or a bomb, utterly unpredictable, without a timer or any other sign of when, how, or why it would explode.

Dream really doesn’t want to answer that question. Why does Nightmare repeatedly drive him into a corner? Lies won’t lead him anywhere, but the truth is just unbearable. And it feels like it’ll get even more real, more powerful as soon as Dream says it out loud. Why does Nightmare do this to him?

No. It’s so easy to get lost in negative thoughts, it’s so tempting to make up the blame and place it on others, on himself, on the whole world. That’s why Dream takes a deep breath.

Then breathes out, ever so slowly.

And tells the truth.

“Negativity steadily kills me.” His voice falters, but he continues. “At least I think so.”

Nightmare closes his sockets. Cross quivers like he’s been hit and leans a little closer to Dream, and even Killer swallows — not loudly, but there is still only deserted silent space around, so no sound conceals what’s happening, no movement distracts them, nothing is in their way.

Quite possibly, it’s for the best. Dream’s got enough chaos in his own head.

Cross opens his mouth to speak, but no words come. Apparently, because Nightmare raises an open hand — a gesture even Dream is familiar with, one demanding silence. Killer obviously obeys, but so does Cross, without a second of hesitance. Interesting how something never changed, even though Cross has been by Dream’s side for a long time. Some little habits that just stayed there. Does Cross even realise that? Perhaps not...

Nonetheless, he’s great at what he does. Protecting and supporting. Warmth and pride take over Dream’s soul, so light and gentle; they quickly become agony, burning and freezing at the same time, and Dream can only hope his expression doesn’t give the sharp pain away. Although he’s always been bad at lying, or even keeping things secret.

It does get worse as time passes. How much does he have left?

In any case... Here and now, Dream’s with his brother, and they are talking. He’s got this chance. If his death, not immediate but inevitable, is the price...

“Dream?”

As soon as he meets Nightmare’s serious, hard gaze, he realises he didn’t end that thought. Somehow, it relieves a tiny bit of the pressure.

“Yeah?”

“Think carefully and answer this truthfully. Have you talked to a voice? Have you responded?”

Well, that’s unexpected. Out of nowhere, dare he say. And if Cross and Killer’s reactions are anything to go by, it’s not just Dream who is missing something. Both their companions keep straight faces, but Dream doesn’t need any telling signs to tell how a person feels. Regardless of his own desires and preferences, he just knows.

At the moment the three of them are equally bewildered.

“A... voice? What are you talking about? What voice?”

“A male voice,” clarifies Nightmare firmly and moves closer to Dream once again. It’s almost funny how similar Killer and Cross are in their tension, readiness to attack — to protect — if needed, and their motives are not identical but the same in nature. It seems both twins have found someone to rely on, someone who’d stand by them.

That train of thought makes Dream anxious in a way that drags him down, crushes his head, and clenches his soul. Anxiety that verges on horror.

Since the beginning, they were alone.

Nightmare carefully, gently takes Dream’s hands in his. His bare fingers are as delicate and fragile as Dream’s own, hidden under layers of gloves and gloop. A mere second before touching he hesitates, although so briefly it must go unnoticed by anybody but the twins. Dream does notice.

So, Nightmare trusts him yet stays wary.

Good.

“Please, brother, it’s important,” Nightmare continues. “He could manipulate you. Humiliation and invalidation, flattery, blackmail, he’d use everything. When you held the black apple, was there someone else in your head? Is there now?”

So, so long ago, when Nightmare talked in such a serious manner, Dream couldn’t help chuckling. No matter how much he tried, his laughter broke free. If Nightmare ever got offended or upset, he didn’t show it — instead he used to shake his head fondly and asked to not be so careless. Many centuries passed, and even now Dream feels the urge to chuckle. Only it’s different; this time, he couldn’t make a single strangled sound, even if he wanted to.

Oh, how much he wants to.

Then, that tiny bit of positive emotions is carried away, forcefully changed into fatigue and pain, so sharp it makes him want to fall and bend and to never get up. Dream is so very tired. So much effort just to stand on feet, and Nightmare’s weird questions don’t help at all. Still, he responds, clear uncertainty in his tone, “I... don’t know?..” Sounds half-questioningly, so Dream coughs, making a pause, then proceeds. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

Nightmare lets Dream’s hands go, and Dream really cannot deny the desire — almost need — to reach out and make their contact last a moment longer, please, please...

Since when are his preferences and needs are of any importance?

Therefore, Dream lets the moment go, his hands hanging by either side like a dead weight. What’s the point if Dream can’t even touch his brother without being afraid? How long will it take him to lose control? To... die?

The world’s always been so unfair to them. Why is the world so unfair to them? What did they do to deserve this?

Unaware of the thoughts tearing his twin’s mind apart (or maybe knowing them all too well?..), Nightmare brushes his right temple, yet never starts rubbing. Dream remembers how he used to do exactly that when lost in thoughts that just don’t seem to lead anywhere yet. Like a dead end. So... No answers from his brother, it seems, at least not right now.

The pause gets so long it’s awkward. Dream finds himself enveloped in overwhelming distress, his chest tight and heavy.

Cross, as if feeling something, moves closer once again, and their shoulders are touching now, and — the last blow, only in a good way, — he takes Dream’s hand, so sure and steadfast. At that moment, there is so much love between them, such a deep and strong desire to protect and support no matter what... Stunned by the intensity of their feelings, the negativity miraculously withdraws. Suddenly, Dream can exist almost freely, almost painlessly.

He lets out a breath and looks Cross in the sockets with all the gratitude in the world, squeezing his hand. Their movement seems to help Nightmare focus because he stirs and finally says, every word clear, clipped, and unexpectedly loud, “Interesting. His silence might buy us some time.” Then, he lowers his voice, as if sharing a secret, “Or it could be a sign of extreme danger.”

“How do we tell which one is true in our case?”

Faithful, resolute Cross. He understands even less than Dream, and he’s scared — scared to fail him, scared to lose him — yet he is ready to fight. And maybe it’s just Dream seeing things, but for a mere second, he sees Killer’s satisfied smile; people smile like that when something lives up to their expectations. The chances are high it’s just Dream’s imagination, for he doesn’t pay much attention to anything but his brother. Only the warmth of Cross’ hand reminds him of the world around.

Nightmare sighs and shakes his head, “I need more information.” His tone is close to guilty, apologetic. Although Dream doesn’t get the chance to comment, or react at all, since Killer chips in, deliberately nonchalant and careless, “No need to waste time chatting, then. Which way, boss?”

“No haste, Killer. A single misstep will cost us many lives, ours included. You are right, though, we do need to part ways.” Nightmare makes a pause, and all too clearly Dream sees how his he does his best to not hunch and hug himself tightly in an attempt to shrink and take less space. Yet another habit from the past. Despite his struggles, Nightmare manages to keep his voice firm and confident, “Back home, for a start. Something has gone wrong, and all of us will need all energy we can get to figure this out.”

And recover from the recent events, he doesn’t say, but Dream knows nevertheless. So does Killer, that’s for sure. Cross... Well, he definitely can take a guess.

Nightmare offers a hand, and somehow Dream shakes it with just a moment of delay. For a second he just hangs there, staring at the palm he’d thought he’d never see again. Staring at Nightmare — true Nightmare, the brother he loves so very much, then how could it be, why such cruelty?..

All too soon the touch is gone again, and Cross leads Dream to the side, ever so gently, as if a single tiny misstep would break him.

As if he’d drag the whole Multiverse down with him.

“Dream?” Nightmare calls, suddenly.

Do not hope, Dream tells himself. Don’t even turn around.

“Yeah?” he responds, weakly. It takes too much just to say this short word. It takes too much to not sob, or for his voice to not crack. Please, let him hold the tears back, at least in front of his brother. Let him be strong enough to delay the moment he falls and shudders with wails. Merely a delay, that’s all he’s asking for.

“If you ever hear that voice, please, do not answer. Or at least never agree to anything.”

What joy. This time, Dream can’t reply with one word. Pulling himself together, he forces something that remotely resembles a chuckle. “I still don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, but I promise to never react to any unfamiliar voices in my head. Stars, that sounds weird.”

Thinking about insignificant nonsense is times easier than focusing on the most important. Laughing it all off and brushing everything away is way simpler than reflecting and seeking solutions. Besides, it’s not like Dream can change anything right now.

“No. Don’t make promises. Just... do your best, alright? That will buy us some time.” Nightmare’s voice expresses none of the pain his words hold. Dream knows that for sure. After all, his brother seems to talk from experience, which possibly means he has failed once, and he’d never expect Dream to do something he couldn’t. That Dream can’t know for sure, there is no way to prove or deny his guess, but it’s there, as much as he doesn’t like it. Once again, has his opinion ever been of any importance?

Then, Nightmare orders in his firm, demanding voice, “Killer, give Cross a temporary access code to our place.” Dream doesn’t need to turn around to know his brother is starting to work on a plan already. Practically feels gears turning in that brilliant head of his. “As for you two, come there when the code almost expires. That much time should be enough.”

Dream notices how Nightmare doesn’t even think to clarify — enough for what? He likely has no idea either. Just enough.

Dream... cannot force a single word out of himself.

It hurts. He’s scared. Why would they divide?

No. No. He knows why. Because he can be dangerous. He’s got to go back to the anti-void, the only place that has nobody he could harm. Well, except for Cross. He’ll be there to look after Dream until it’s time to meet again. They’ve come through so much together, surely they’ll handle this as well.

Right?

“I got the code,” Cross informs, finally, and is Dream hearing things, or does he actually sound perplexed? Ah, never mind.

None of it matters.

“I’ll see you again,” Nightmare states behind them as a matter of fact.

Dream tries to answer, but nothing comes. At the moment, there’s no strength left in him to form even one word. Cross comes to the aid, agreeing bluntly, “Naturally.”

Then, they come through a portal, and Cross immediately hurries to close it. Here, in relative safety, away from his brother, Dream finally lets his legs give away, falling on the knees. His whole body trembles violently in anguish and dread that are coming out as tears, Dream wails until he can’t hear himself anymore, and after that, the screams come — incoherent at first, they quickly turn into words, and words become long, long sentences filled with misery and despair. Dream isn’t really aware of what he’s saying, exactly; he just lets the pain and the words out.

At the back of his mind, there’s a feeling of somebody close by... Who?.. Who’s there to share his agony, who could hold so much compassion towards the cursed fallen guardian?..

Dream clenches his fists, ready to hit the invisible floor. What stops him is one clear, vivid sensation. There’s a ring on his finger, and the glove covers his finger just a bit too tighter under that thin line. That ring has so much more to it than just physical weight.

Cross.

Oh, Cross... All this time — who knows how much that is — he’s been standing there, waiting patiently for Dream to be ready for his help and support, has he not? No, that’s a silly question. Of course, he has. It cannot be otherwise.

Dream awkwardly turns around and reaches out blindly. In an instant, he’s in a tight embrace. Tears are still burning on his cheeks, almost as much as the negativity, but now Dream has so many more sensations to focus on. They keep his mind occupied until there’s no space left for pain.

Even, deep breaths Dream does his best to adjust to. Movement of the chest, hidden under the layers of stiff yet durable clothes. Weight of the hands that hold close, tender and loving. An anchor, just for Dream.

Belatedly, he hugs Cross back.

The darkness surrounds him, penetrating his mind and soul, but... here and now, the fallen guardian isn’t alone.

The tears keep falling. Nothing is over. This, apparently, is only the beginning.

。。。

Credits

Undertale © Toby Fox

Dreamtale © jokublog

Cross © jakei95 / xtaleunderverse

Shattered!Dream © shattereddreamsau

Dark Cream ©zu-is-here

X-tra Dark Cream © me (anfie / anfie-in-the-box)

Read it on ao3 (link to be added)

Read Russian version on ficbook (link to be added) or fanficus

。。。

Notes

I'm so x-cited! The twins and their companions, not so much.

If anybody is still lost, this story begins during the last part of Dark Cream comic. Nightmare's words are the same here and there; that should help you navigate.

The last sentences? Those are totally a reference to this. I live for references, so there's likely much more, I'm just not ready to write them all down. Maybe I'll get back to that later. We'll see.

Feel free to let me know what you think, I'd be delighted to hear you out and discuss things that aren't spoilers!

Thanks for reading, and take care 🌻

。。。

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Hello again! I've been meaning to continue this discussion for a while, and now I finally have some energy to do so!

It just really bothers me that I made it sound as if acid were more powerful than water. I even know how it happened and why; mostly because we were talking about corrupted Nightmare and Shattered Dream, and therefore my focus was on the negative energy (and the way it breaks and twists the positive one) only. But that doesn't mean that either is stronger or weaker! I just didn't have any need to mention that it also works the other way round. Now though, I do have both opportunity and reason! Since you mentioned it yourself.

Okay, so. I was pretty decent at chemistry, but that was a few years ago, and now I don't remember much. Certainly not how the chemical reactions work. But let's just remember that it is a metaphor, and acid and water are actually negative and positive energies respectively, which means it isn't likely to be realistic chemistry-wise.

With that said, let's get to the point.

So what do we know? There are two jars that look identical to each other (and to any other jar, but that's not entirely true), one of them has water and another has acid. Neither jar has a cap, for there is too much acid/water in it, so it pours into the world and affects it (the twins' auras). There is a source of water and a source of acid. The acid jar can turn water into acid, and the water jar can turn acid into water.

All other jars, bottles, jugs, barrels, etc. always have some water AND some acid inside. Sometimes acid causes burns and meltdowns, but sometimes it helps a lot; sometimes water is used to grow, sometimes it floods and overwhelms and destroys. That's how it is.

It's obvious what happens when all acid in the world and almost as much more (500+449, right?) goes to the acid jar. The jar breaks.

That's also true for the water jar. If it suddently had almost twice as much as the whole Multiverse, it would totally break.

But then, there are cases that break the rules. Like when the water jar makes contact with a bit of acid and that bit doesn't change. How would that even work?

Well, here's the way I see it (so much for "getting to the point", I'm only doing it now, awkward ^^")

Finally I'm trying to explain the timelines with Shattered Dream via this metaphor! But before that, I didn't mention all those other containers just because, you know. I'd like to hope my choice of words is pretty precise. All those "other jars, bottles, jugs, barrels, etc." aren't monsters and humans but their SOULs. (Have to pause here and say that I really don't remember whether corrupted Nightmare has a soul canonically; if not, then it's my headcanon.) So corrupted Nightmare is like a tiny jar with both acid and water in the middle of endless acid (also that's how I explain why and how Nightmare stays alive: he gains a soul!), and Dream is like a tiny jar with both acid and water in a bigger jar filled with water. So when Dream finds and eats the black apple? He is doing it not as a guardian of positivity he was initially created but as a being with their own soul. That creates a paradox so powerful it makes the twins something like communicating vessels (hope I googled that term right, oh stars, now I'm going into Physics, why me), and, since water didn't change acid into water as it was supposed to, it reversed, and the eaten apple's "acid" turned Dream’s initial "water" into "acid". Plus all that Nightmare had went to Dream too, hence the communicating vessels. And we already know that this much of anything makes any jar break.

I do hope that makes sense. At least that's pretty much how it works in my X-stra Dark Cream fic. Not all of this will be explained in the story itself, plus this dialogue really felt unfinished, which bugged me an awful lot. And recently I've been under too much stress for my own good as it is, so I decided to get it out of my way as soon as I felt I was able to. Which is now.

Sorry if there are any mistakes, and feel free to ask and/or correct me about anything! And of course, that's still merely the way I see this matter, it's alright to disagree!

Anyways, thanks for listening, and take care🌻

Hi anfie╰(*´︶`*)╯

Thank you for your reply! I saved it in my drafts before you tagged me, though I couldn't answer you right away since I wanted to do it properly so, thank you for waiting ♡

And oh— now it's much deeper than it initially seemed! I like the way it helps to better understand their essence (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)

Remember that you did amazing already, so please, don't hesitate to take your time, and take care of yourself ♡