#x-tra dark cream fic
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Turns, twists, and paradoxes
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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 🌻
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#anfie writes#x-tra dark cream fic#pre-killermare#passive!nightmare#nightmare!sans#killer!sans#murder!sans#horror!sans#undertale#utmv
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Thank you for your reply as well 💜
If you'd like, I could keep you updated on how I'm doing. I mean, I'd ask the same, but there are people who always do that (@help-im-a-gay-fish, I'm looking at you with gratitude and warmth; thanks for always checking on Zu, your conversations really mean a lot to me 💗), I don't want to repeat questions. Though I'm thinking about asking you some other things, and sharing news in the meantime. It'd be nice to get to know you better, so it's a win-win. Would that be alright?
As for my Chinese lesson, it went... alright, I guess. Considering I didn't feel well and was a bit out of practise... But it was nice to get back to actual stydying. I love this language so much, but don't speak it good enough to use some social media in Chinese, so when there are no lessons I feel like I'm kind of falling out of it. But now I'm there once again, and it feels really good!
I'm very embarrassed and unsure, but, uh. Would you maybe like to play in Sky together sometime? If not, no problem! Just thought it was worth asking, even if our schedules don't exactly match up (x
I'm so glad I managed to explain everything about the songs! By the way, I just realised there is at least one thing between The Killing Kind and X-tra Dark Cream that is not a spoiler, so I can share it now!
The ghost in me was true but
You've been haunted too just—
Didn't see it all along
Remember this part? Well guess what you have~
Doesn't that sound familiar?
This part of the song is always a moment of reminiscing for Dream and Cross. Back to the days when it all took another turn. When the old dreams were shattered, and the new ones were yet to be made.
...
I'm very random right now, can't even explain my thought process here, but all that reminded me that I have the fourth chapter of A dream that comes crashing down translated and published on fanficus. No updates on ficbook though, recent changes make me too sad, I don't use this one as much anymore. I'll still post things there, but obly in piles, a few chapters and/or oneshots at a time. Don't want to spend there more time than necessary. Oh, on a lighter note, my blog now has navigation in every fic post! I worked on that for a few days, and finished today! Hope the links work for everyone, not just me (x
And last but not least... You have no idea how happy and flattered I am. Making things special is exactly what I want. It's just that I've been standing out for as long as I can remember, and for almost everyone my words barely meant anything and the way I perceive the world is strange (mostly the bad type of strange), and that's part of why I can't hear my own writing, why my words now seem hollow and meaningless to me. At least it doesn't stop me from treasuring people who get what I'm trying to tell, who hear me. To whom I make things seem more special. So reading this part was... wow. It still is. I know you consider my works wonderful, and I know you are always glad to talk to me, but this? For me, it's another level. Спасибо. Я так, так рада... Эти слова и впрямь попали в самую точку и запали в душу, оставив отпечаток. Подобные вещи для меня действительно много значат.
Okay, I turned into an emotional mess, who would have guessed (x I'll just end it here for now.
Waiting patiently for your reply and grateful in advance for listening,
anfie.
That would be amazing!╰(*´︶`*)╯No pressure, of course, just whenever you feel like doing so ♡
And that's good to hear! Chinese sounds so interesting yet really hard...
Oh don't be embarrassed! I'd love to play with you sometime <3 Maybe we'd be able to meet even more friends (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)
Wait— it does! *0* I did miss the very beginning, "when the old dreams were shattered, and the new ones were yet to be made." ☆
***
Ah I almost forgot about fanficus! It seems like a nice alternative to our good old ficbook ♪ Despite all the updates, it's still very dear to me, though I left it a long time ago. Back to fanficus, I'll be gladly following you there! Is that where your blog with navigation is? (・∀・)
Am I happy to hear this (๑>◡<๑) I know how underestimated many creators may be, with amazing works and, as luck would have it, a small audience, especially writers. Not just details but the whole meaning escape from an unprepared reader's gaze, and it may be each of us, so many talents, unheard, disappear. Но я верю в тебя. Не сворачивай со своего пути! ☆
Take care, and have a good night ♡
UPD:
Really? (ﾟ∀ﾟ) I thought it was more of a stereotype that Asian languages "are the same", though many of them were just isolated from each other, so that's funny indeed x)
Aw got it, thank you! (〃ω〃)
I see (ó3ò) Oh btw, what do you think about Archive of Our Own? *^* I still get lost there in navigation xd but this is definitely the biggest community for writers and readers!
Ah it's okay! My bad, but now I see, that's really easy to use (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)
You're doing amazing ♡ Keep up the great work! ☆
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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!
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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)
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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!
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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)
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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.
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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)
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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!
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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.
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X-tra Dark Cream & 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)
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Bonus: crossover between Each other's lifeline and Turns, twists, and paradoxes
Notes
So it's my birthday today, the 11th of October. I don't celebrate, not really, but why not use it as an excuse to give you lot a gift. I appreciate my readers quite a lot, so... Here you go, have this, enjoy (:
For context please read Each other's lifeline and X-tra Dark Cream first!
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In a dream
There is a void. There in that void also are a Dream and a Nightmare. Both carry the curse of nine hundred ninety nine negative apples. The problem is, they are not in fact each other's brothers. It's rather obvious — only one twin is supposed to be affected by the curse. Yet here they are, both cursed, both with only one good eye, both covered in the liquid negativity. The two do not realise that yet, though. Both don't know much about the curse, despite their various circumstances.
They stare at each other. Silence is deafening.
"...Dream?" Nightmare finally says. He sounds distressed. "What happened to you?"
"What happened to you?" Dream replies, shock and fear in his voice and on his face. "I've taken the curse from you, you were as fine as we get! How is it possible?"
Nightmare gasps, "What?! No... No, wait, hang on."
Your brother wouldn't do that, Mist insists when they catch Nightmare's attention. He'd never separate us. He knows we've got it and he believes in us. This is either an imposter or another version of Dream. Both are possible.
Nightmare nods, thoughtful. To Dream, he says out loud, "We think you aren't my Dream. Or I'm not your Nightmare, that works both ways. You are Dream, right? It's not an elaborate joke slash torture by my subconscious?"
Dream looks at Nightmare for a few long seconds, then finally finds it in himself to make an introduction, "Shattered Dream. You can call me Shattered or Dream, although I reckon you'd prefer the first one to distinguish me and, apparently, your Dream. Has he not lifted the curse from you? And what do you mean we?"
Nightmare shifts uncomfortably and looks this strange other Dream in the socket, "He has not. There is no need. Mist and I have it handled."
Dream takes a step back and looks around. He doesn't see anybody else.
"Who's Mist?"
Nightmare stares at Dream as if the other'd gone mad. "You have the curse, you must know them. The man's voice connected to the negativity? Rings any bells?"
It's Dream’s turn to gasp, "Are you delirious?! Nightmare — my Nightmare — says he's the enemy! He's what took him from me!"
"I'm not delirious, thank you very much, I'm from a different universe. That seems to be the difference — my Mist helps and supports me from the beginning, while yours... does not." Nightmare can't make himself call them evil or anything like that. "Do they... he... really harm you?"
Dream crosses his arms defensively, "Well, I... Personally I've never heard him, no idea why, but brother says he's dangerous and he's dealt with this mysterious person for centuries, so I trust his judgement."
I know I'm not a good person, Mist laments, but I'd never hurt you, kid. You or your brother.
I know, Nightmare assures. Out loud, he says sincerely, "Mist is the best thing that's ever happened to me, along with Dream. I don't know if I'd make it without him."
"Fascinating," Dream whispers, more to himself than to Nightmare. He continues louder, "At least one of us has it easier."
Nightmare can't help shuddering, "I can't imagine a world where Mist isn't my friend, family even."
Dream looks at him curiously, "Don't you ever fight for control?"
Nightmare answers readily, "Absolutely not. We're both okay with taking the back seat when the other needs control. At this point we switch easily, although it does take practice. Are you sure yours is evil?.."
"I trust my brother," Dream repeats vehemently. Nightmare stirs, "I didn't mean to imply..."
"I know you didn't," Dream assures. "You're a version of my brother. I trust you as well." He adds, much quieter, "Possibly more than myself." It's honestly disturbing — trusting a stranger more than himself. But it is how it is.
"I suggest we sit down," Nightmare says. "Let me look at you properly. Maybe I could even help."
Dream gives a silent nod, and they do indeed sit down. Nightmare watches his every movement, attentive as ever. The liquid negativity is of different colour than his own; Dream’s soul — the last positive apple — affecting it? Perhaps so, perhaps not.
I think yes, Mist adds. Or at least I've no other ideas.
Me too, Nightmare thinks. "Can you form the tentacles or shape-shift?"
Dream shows his tentacles from the back without a word. He doesn't shape-shift, though. "My Nightmare said to avoid shape-shifting and do it only if necessary. Don't know why, but then again, he's the expert. I'm getting the hang of it, but it's still a process," he explains, crossing his arms on his chest defensively.
"Okay?.." Nightmare's not sure how to respond to that.
They sit. They watch each other, both with sinking dread somewhere deep within their cursed souls. Dream's worst fear seems to come true — both he and his big brother are corrupted, his sacrifice is in vain. Nightmare, on the other hand, meets the unthinkable — his little brother, corrupted like him. For him. It's hard to even imagine, and yet here Shattered is.
"Would you like to meet Mist?" Nightmare proposes suddenly. Dream gapes, taken aback by the mere suggestion, and then shudders as the thought sinks in.
"I would like that," he says bravely. He urges himself, Pull yourself together, it's not the same demon whom your brother fears so much. He's good. He might help.
The switch is subtle, unnoticeable almost. Dream watches carefully, though, and that is why he sees it nonetheless. The eye-light darkens a shade, and the negativity suddenly seems just a little bit thicker on Nightmare's bones and clothes.
"Hey," Mist says in Nightmare's voice, somewhat awkwardly.
"Nice to meet you?.." Dream replies in an uncertain, half-questioning tone.
"Nice to meet you too, Shattered Dream," Mist nods and offers a hand. "You must have questions."
Dream takes his hand, not allowing himself to hesitate. "Yeah, questions... Nightmare's still there?"
Mist chuckles. "Still a kind soul, I see. Good for you, hold on to that light. Nightmare's alright, although he can't hear or see or feel anything at all, except for me. Or, well, he can at this point, but this kind of sharing gives us a headache, or an equivalent of it, I suppose."
"That sounds... complicated." Dream mutters. He doesn't comment on the "still a kind soul" part of Mist's words.
"It is! But it's been centuries, we've got it figured out and under control. The negativity is insatiable, but we find our ways. As do you, I guess?"
"You guess right," Dream nods, quiet and ashamed. He's yet to come to terms with what he has to do to survive, and somehow he feels he can show it before Mist. Now that they talk it's surprisingly easy to trust them; their voice and tone are... not exactly kind, not really understanding, but there's something comforting about them. Dream lets himself.
Mist becomes serious. "The worst part is that I completely can imagine myself being your enemy. Personally I would never hurt Nightmare or Dream, but if I were just a bit more ruthless, mad at everything for my death and under the negativity's influence... Sounds plausible. More than. And it's scary to even think about. I could've made Nightmare's life even more of a hell than before the incident... I want him to be happy, you know? He's gone through so much. He deserves it."
"That's certainly one thing we can agree on. That's why I bit that apple — I just wanted to free my brother, although I didn't think he'd be alive under all this negativity... I let go of that hope long ago. But despite everything, he persevered. So must I."
"You thought he was dead? Wait, no, of course you thought that, after all, he was supposed to die, my Nightmare survived solely because of my support, at least we think so, but yours didn't have that if your version of me is evil... Something else must have interfered. We'd do research but we're in the middle of nowhere... It's not even Anti-void, right?"
Dream looks like he's in a daze. He was supposed to die, spins in his head. It's nothing new, and yet, yet…
"Right," he snaps back to… reality?.. "I live there, I should know."
"Hm. Might it be a dreamscape?"
"You think we're sleeping?" Dream clarifies, surprised.
"Either that or our Multiverses collapsed together, and I'd prefer the first option," Mist shrugs.
Dream shakes momentarily. "Me too," he agrees.
They sit in companionable silence.
"Be careful," Mist finally cautions. "I can be vile if I want to. I'm positive… he… can too. Are they 'he', still?"
"You aren't?" Dream asks, a bit surprised. Although this strange version of Nightmare did mention Mist as 'them'…
"I used to be a man, once." Mist nods, quiet and serious. The words fall easily from his — their? — mouth. "Not anymore, though. I am… a spirit, or a demon, whatever you wish to call it. An entity connected to the negativity in the apples. I barely identify myself with the human I used to be, especially not after all this time, and that also helps me to be a better person than I was. I suppose your version of me clings to the memories of his life and therefore feeds negativity, getting more attached, ultimately drowning in it. That's what would've happened to me if not for Nightmare — the kid managed to save us both, and I'm forever grateful. He'd disagree and say it was a group effort, and he'd be more right than I am. We both didn't fall that day."
Dream listens in awe. Mist sounds nostalgic, reminiscing, and honestly too perfect to be true. Dream would think them deceiving, but he trusts his brother, any alive and sane version of him, and this Nightmare in turn trusts Mist. So here they are.
"Stay strong," Mist adds. "I'm sure you and your Nightmare will find a way. In such a state I'd be as strong as negativity, which is an insane amount of strength, but you two are more than this. You can do it. You're the only ones who can."
He's genuine to a fault and so very open with Dream, it hurts. It warms him to the core, too. It's an amazing feeling he usually feels beside Nightmare or, on occasion, Cross; it's something he treasures dearly, keeping every moment in his heart.
"You're definitely something else." Dream murmurs softly, more to himself than to Mist.
"So are you, new friend. I'm not sure if we'll ever meet again, but my Nightmare says it's time to wake up. So wake up."
Dream wants to ask what they mean, but then he hears Cross' gentle voice, urging him to return to what people call reality, and he indeed wakes up. Without a goodbye or 'See you later'. Maybe it's better this way.
Cross smiles at him, and Dream decides not to tell what he saw in a dream. Let it be their little secret, just the three of them — he, another Nightmare, and his companion Mist.
Nightmare and Mist wake up as well, in a castle filled with life and misery and comfort. The clock shows it's still early, but neither wants to sleep anymore. Without discussing it, Mist leads them to the library, the quietest place in the cursed world they once called their home. Later, Nightmare will take control and contact his brother, but that will be later. Both need time to think over.
Life continues on.
。。。
Credits
Dreamtale © jokublog
Shattered Dream © shattereddreamsau
Mist © me (anfie / anfie-in-the-box)
#anfie writes#each other's lifeline#x-tra dark cream fic#bonus#crossover#nightmare!sans#shattered!dream#mist!voice
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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!
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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
Read Russian version on ficbook (link to be added) or fanficus
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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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Navigation
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#anfie writes#x-tra dark cream fic#dark cream#x-tra dark cream#shattered!dream#cross!sans#undertale#utmv#I can't believe I translated this in ten days#Absolutely love this story though#It deserves the hard work and attention
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
#anfie writes#x-tra dark cream fic#dark cream week#dark cream#shattered!dream#cross!sans#undertale#utmv
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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 🌻
#anfie writes#x-tra dark cream fic#dark cream week#dark cream#shattered!dream#cross!sans#undertale#utmv
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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!
。。。
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#anfie writes#x-tra dark cream fic#dark cream#x-tra dark cream#shattered!dream#cross!sans#undertale#utmv
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X-tra Dark Cream Teaser
Notes
I’m still very much not participating in Dark Cream Week, yet somehow this thing is done right in time, so I’m posting it with respective tags.
The story of X-tra Dark Cream is going to be pretty big and serious. Like, plot-wise, lore-wise, so-many-other-aspects-wise, you have no idea what you’ve got coming. And I just really hope you all will enjoy the ride.
What you need to know now is that I’m kind of getting back to my very own idea that you can find right here. Though it’s a different timeline, not Genocide Route. What they share is a concept of both Dream and Cross being villains, at first sight their atmosphere and aesthetic are kind of similar, but that’s it. What exactly is happening here will be explained in the story, and let me tell you, Dream and Cross have a long way ahead of them before they reach the point described in this little teaser.
So I’ve got a question for you. Answer honestly.
Would you like your Cream extra dark?
。。。
Just a Bad Dream
Once the portal is safely closed and there’s no more negativity pouring right into Dream’s cursed soul, he hurries to Cross’ side, hugging him tightly. Dismissing his huge knife, Cross hugs Dream back with a weary yet content sigh. “My greatest hero, once again taking down the whole world in my name,” Dream murmurs, ever so appreciatively and very, very gently. Cross caresses his spine through the clothes and the gloop, and, although he never really bothers to use words after a foray to one AU or another, the tremble of his hands is telling Dream enough. So, as much as the fallen guardian wishes to hold Cross like this forever, he lets go.
“I believe you are due for a good rest now.”
Dream cannot help a smile when Cross doesn’t argue, merely lingering to give his spine one last stroke. One could say they are finally figuring out their routine, grasping the ways to make their complicated lives easier, if only a little bit. For Cross it’s definitely lots of sleep and lazing around after all the work he’s done; no matter how much he doesn’t like it, and despite all the bad dreams that he’s most likely to have with all the LV, both old and new, still raging in his soul.
Dream, on the other hand, won’t be sleeping any time soon. It would do him no good at all — this lesson he learned the hard way. There isn’t much to be done when Dream’s whole being is brimming over with shattered positivity of the whole AU, — agonising grief and fear from those who survived; absolute despair from the last moments of those who died; guilt of those who were supposed to protect their people, parents and rulers all the same; at last, contempt and helplessness of every single soul. Oh, the two of them truly are beneath contempt, aren’t they? Breaking entire worlds, taking away a mere possibility of them functioning like they are supposed to. Monsters who only seek to twist and corrupt.
That’s what they say, Dream knows it all too well, both from careful whispers that no one else was supposed to hear and from straightforward, provocative screams right in his face. It’s good, exactly how he wants it to be, but right now he couldn’t care less. Dirt on Cross’ clothes matters more than this.
Actually, that’s what Dream’s going to busy himself with. Cross’ new uniform is piled up beside their bed, soaked in humans’ blood and covered in monsters’ dust. There’s no doubt washing these will be a real pain in the neck, but that’s exactly what Dream needs right now. Something basic yet not too simple. Easy enough for Dream to be able to pay more attention to Cross, whose even breathing and serene expression bring peace to the fallen guardian’s rotting soul, too. This way his hands are occupied, all of the energy he’s gathered is guided in the non-destructive direction until it settles, and his troubled mind is resting even without sleep. It’s a nice bonus to be able to look after Cross, ready to help him break free from yet another nightmare, for the dreadful, horrific visions are always haunting him in reality as well… At least in the first moments after waking up, although sometimes it takes Cross much longer to snap out of it, even with the aid of Dream. Hopefully, this time won’t be so… troublesome.
It’s so obvious that Dream isn’t in the slightest used to doing the laundry — any laundry at all, let alone something as tricky as washing all this blood and dust out, — it’s almost funny. Although, to be fair, it really isn’t supposed to actually be useful — a mere distraction, nothing more, nothing less.
Cross will overwrite his clothes anyway. And, if that fails (though lately the number of failures has lessened significantly; the thought makes Dream’s chest tighten with warmth and pride in his most loyal ally and dearest fiance), they’ll just trade new armor in some AU for the delusive sense of safety. Material needs don’t concern them anymore.
Dream’s progress on washing the uniform is still close to none when he feels a sudden powerful wave of severe distress, and merely a moment later the air gets heavy with magic. Bones and blasters are everywhere, there are so many of them there’s no speck of whiteness left, everything bright red and purple instead. It’s not the first time — neither it is the last one, Dream’s under no illusion about that part, — yet it’s no less mesmerising. If only it weren’t so dangerous for both of them.
Dodging all the attacks, getting closer to Cross is the easy part, that Dream’s doing effortlessly, without sparing it much thought; it’s not like Cross is able to properly hurt Dream, neither in his sleep nor while being fully conscious. Especially not like that. Cross wouldn’t gather enough harmful intent, and considering Dream’s nature is far from ordinary…
It’s even easier to throw Cross out of their bed, his body light, though trembling violently. He jolts awake the moment Dream’s hand touches his chest to grab the fabric of his shirt, but his mind is still very far away. Out of reach. It’s only the lack of resistance that shows Cross has recognised him, if only a little, on some kind of subconscious level. Nothing other than that — just pure black hate pouring down his cheeks and LV raging on within his soul. No way Dream will stand such a state of affairs any longer. Cross is his and his only, he doesn’t belong to whatever hell he’s seeing. And so the fallen guardian growls, as if his own life depended on it, “Wake up!”
Please, please let this one end quickly. Dream hates hurting Cross more than needed.
“Wake up!”
Of course that doesn’t work, it rarely does, but Dream has to try anyway. Besides, it’s usually when the struggling begins. Not this time though; good. Dream feels every single bone directed at his back, oh so clearly hears the Gaster blasters charging. Nothing ever comes. Nothing ever would; not when he’s close enough for Cross to feel the familiar warmth and weight of his body, that Dream knows for sure.
Holding Cross’ hands tight, chanting “Wake up, wake up, wake up”, as if it were a spell (or a plea, or a prayer), Dream reaches out to Cross’ chest with one of his tentacles, pressing firmly right in the middle of the ribcage, forcing his soul to appear. Cross sharply inhales, obviously in pain, and even tries to arch his back, — only Dream doesn’t allow it, keeping him in place. That’s when his tentacles come in handy…
Other than that, nothing much happens. “Thank stars,” Dream thinks, taking a deep breath. From now on, he needs to be extremely careful. Souls are not to be toyed with. Or, well, the souls of those he loves are not to be toyed with. All the others are perfect but hollow dolls to be filled with oh so very hurtful fragments of their shattered dreams.
That’s what Dream and Cross do. That’s what they’ll continue doing, and no haunting visions would ever take Cross away. They’re together in this.
With his gloved hand Dream cautiously touches the soul, pulsing with LV and shining red and purple, no trace of it ever being one of a monster. Cross’ eye sockets and mouth open wide… It’s almost like he’s screaming without a sound, or maybe the sound merely goes just as far away as his mind is.
Dream’s never asked. He’s not going to ask this time, either.
The charged blasters fire all at once, and the bones are falling behind his back, yet none of the attacks ever land as Dream bawls, “I am Dream, and you are the one who swore an oath of loyalty and love, the one who saw through me, and accepted me, and stayed by my side! You are Cross, and whatever hell you’re seeing, you do not belong to it!” Cross’ mismatched eye-lights get a bit less blurry for a second, and that’s Dream’s cue to finally act with all he’s got.
And so he lets Cross go, leaving utterly motionless body lying on the floor, only for all of Dream’s tentacles to hit the soul at same time before it disappeared once again.
This time Cross actually screams; there is unparalleled agony in his voice, unexpectedly hoarse, as if he’s been screaming like that for hours. It hurts so much to hear it.
Dream is certain it’s better than whatever Cross has just broken free from. As Cross himself once said, “At least in reality I’m in this mess with you.” Very vividly Dream remembers his own response — a warm smile and quiet, confident “Likewise.”
That was then. Now Cross is looking at Dream with lost, pained, vulnerable expression, and his eye-lights, though faded to white, are still blurry — only this time from exhaustion, not because he’s seeing something too much different from reality. That Dream knows how to deal with. He doesn’t help Cross get on his feet, picking him up instead, holding him with hands and tentacles the same.
It’s nice to feel Cross’ weight, and his soul beating more and more steadily. Soothing, really. And that is why Cross only squeaks a little, otherwise showing no signs of discomfort or desire to argue about his position. Not like an argument would lead him anywhere, even if he had enough energy to start one.
They don’t talk until both of them are back in the bed, so close to each other it’s still very easy to hear their souls beating, their breaths warming what little space is beetween them. Dream squeezes Cross’ hand and offers a smile. It’s a tender one, if only a bit teasing.
“Hush now, Cross. It was just a bad dream.”
No words can ever describe his immense relief when Cross smiles back. And all too clearly Dream sees the moment some kind of mischief sparks in his love’s eyes.
“Oh? Well, then I definitely woke up,” Cross says, almost nonchalantly, though there’s no way that would fool Dream, who knows exactly how much he weighs every word. “Because what I see now is not 'just a bad' dream but the worst Dream ever.” At that the warmth in Dream’s chest is blooming like a flower, bursting like thousands of fireworks. Then Cross adds, so gently, as if the two of them might break — and take the whole world with them. “You are my worst.”
And places a kiss on his forehead. Like a final blow.
That weird, silly fool. That wonderful idiot. Dream loves him so, so much.
It takes the fallen guardian a moment to find his words again, and to be sure his voice won’t be trembling as soon as he starts talking. For a moment Dream simply stares at Cross, who just looks back, so calm, so sure, so present.
“Good one,” Dream finally says. “Though if you're feeling fine enough to make flirty puns, we should go back to sleep.” It’s a perfect moment to return the kiss, only on the cheek. Cross seems content anyway.
“Yeah, let’s do that.” He chuckles. “Won't summon any more bones. Or blasters. Promise.”
。。。
Credits:
Undertale © Toby Fox
Dream © jokublog
Cross © jakei95 / xtaleunderverse
Shattered!Dream © shattereddreamsau
Dark Cream © zu-is-here
X-tra Dark Cream © me (anfie / anfie-in-the-box)
Link to the Russian version will be here!
。。。
Notes
I'm too sleepy to write down the references, but there are quite a few! I'll update them later.
But god and stars, do I love Cross' wordplay in the end. That's the first thing I got to know about this story. Then it became "Two villains who have the whole Multiverse terrified being idiots in love". Then I blinked, and suddenly it's huge and super serious. That was fun. It still is.
#dark cream week#dark cream#x-tra dark cream#shattered!dream#cross!sans#undertale#utmv#anfie writes#x-tra dark cream fic#A glimpse into this ship's life#So much more is coming!#I love these two too much for my own good#Hope I'll be able to tell their story#It will be quite a journey#and for once I'm more excited than nervous#Not sure if it lasts though#But I'm determined anyway!
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