Join us from July 26 – August 1 to celebrate Dream + Nightmare!
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This event centers around Dream and Nightmare. Additional characters are welcome as long as Dreammare remains the focal point.
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Tags: secret meetings, fluff and angst, hopeful ending, sibling incest, secret relationship, alternate universe, arranged betrothal, invasion of privacy, invasion of privacy, Dream needs a hug, toxic relationship (mainly with Dream and the villagers), the villagers are assholes.
Written for @dreammareweek
Theme: Secret Meetings
Summary:
Blessing...he loathed how the golden apples, his apples, were called that. He didn't see them as a 'blessing'. They were a curse. These people's obsession with them was invasive, unhealthy, burdensome. They believed they were owed them as much as they believed they were owed a piece of Dream. Believed that they were the answer to every little problem, never once bothering to understand or respect the true nature.
What about that sounded like a 'blessing'?
or
In a different universe, Dream lived among the villagers as their precious Guardian...without his brother...
“What a delicious jewel they’ve sent this time. Do my priests mean to entice me?” Phos laughed. The angel approached the golden bars of his sumptuous cage to appraise his new attendant. The small skeleton watched him with wary pale lilac eyelights from the other side of the magical barrier which kept him trapped inside it.
The usual offering platter was carried between their slender metacarpals. Sliced fruits, raw meats, and an amphora of wine were placed on it. Phos smiled derisively. The priests who kept him captive and siphoned away his power for their own ends provided him with just enough sustenance to maintain the magic they coveted. There was never more than that.
That was why Phos supplemented his diet whenever he could. The angel of light and positivity much preferred his meals fresh and writhing in ecstasy as he devoured them piece by piece. He had fewer opportunities for it these days. The priests regularly rotated his attendants now so that Phos’ aura had less chance to ensnare them.
“Angel.” The skeleton said in greeting and bowed. The purple hood of their robe prettily slipped down further over their skull. When they stood straight the silver embroidered hem lay across their brow as if it were a delicate circlet.
They were beautiful.
Phos appreciated beautiful things. There was not much else to do in such a place devoid of other entertainment. Perhaps he would temper his fickle hunger to keep this muted jewel longer than the rest.
“What name would befit a serene and lovely attendant such as you?” Phos smiled in the radiant way that made most mortals tremble in awe. However, he was surprised when the attendant merely gave a demure smile in response. While there was affection in their gaze, there was no slack-jawed wonder.
“Skia is what they call me.” Their voice was deep and smooth like the smoke from the incense burners which hung from chains at the four corners of the hall his cage was in.
“Your offering, Angel.” Skia proffered the platter against the bars, keeping a measured distance.
Phos took it, making sure his phalanges did not touch the cage. The dish was made of same stuff as the cage. It phased through the bars and still held the food. A truly ingenious work of magic.
There was an unfamiliar tightness in his chest. The name – he’d heard it before.
“So I am to have my own shadow,” Phos hummed. “Tell me little shadow, have we met before?”
Skia bowed their head so Phos could not see their eyelights, but that could not hide what they felt from a celestial-born. The grief that passed through them stole Phos’ immortal breath. It was a deep emotion that would easily drown anyone beneath it, but when Skia raised their skull none of it showed on their face.
“No, Angel. We have not.” Their expression was placid. “Forgive me but I must go. The guards will come if I take much longer.” They turned to leave.
“Wait,” Phos commanded. “Come here.”
Skia looked over their shoulder, hesitating. Then they turned back and followed Phos’ order. Phos reached through the bars with one hand and cupped Skia’s cool cheekbone. Skia exhaled softly and closed their eyelights, resting under Phos’ touch.
“Come back to me tomorrow. I will not accept the offering from anyone else.” Phos restrained himself from gripping tighter. He wanted Skia to stay.
“Yes, Angel.” Skia murmured. “I will always come back.”
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.
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song_A is the author of Swapdream
Phos and Skia are my own interpretations of those characters
thanks to @dreammareweek for reviving this event 💜
Thank you for participating in Dreammare Week 2025!
We're in complete awe at all the submissions we received! We're very thankful for the wonderful writers and artists who came together to celebrate with us despite the short notice! 💛💜
But we aren't done yet! Remember, Dreammare is eternal. Late submissions are highly encouraged! We will continue to check hashtags and reblog works up until August 10th, so if you were still working on something, by all means, feel free to show us!
To commemorate all the lovely content we received, we've compiled all posts tagged Dreammare Week across social media. Regarding late submissions, I'll add anything submitted before the 10th to this post. If we missed your submission, we encourage you to submit your work here: https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSczO22a9aj9kjDYeI9dQ2SqcU7VVo07RIE8B4g75zvggdypCw/viewform
Please put your hands together for our amazing participants:
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[ Day 1-7 ]
Will redo A LOT later but for now have this because I'm not only late but so exhausted I don't even want to see this drawinng right now 🙏🙏🙏
Day two: flower language
Based on the fanfiction I was scheming on for a year but abandoned (for now)
Long explanation under the cut. I would appreciate if you shared your first impression before reading by the way!! I want to know whether my weak attempt at 💫environmental storytelling💫 had any success
TW suicide
White lily: a symbol of innocence and purity often used to commemorate the dead, especially those who passed too soon.
Fanfic starts and follows as a redemption arc for Nightmare, who realizes the futility of war he started after falling in love with Ccino. A few months after the truce, he receives a letter with birthday wishes from Dream. Nightmare found it strange and not only decided that Dream was trying to communicate something else, but also that he himself wants to meet Dream. Very long slowburn story short, they fall in love and commit a lot of incestuous kissing 🕊🕊 (nevertheless, that doesn't change Nightmare's and Ccino relationship (polyamory ensues)). However, while Nightmare wants a redemption arc, redemption arc does not want Nightmare 😔 And that is why he is not the best partner. The situation escalates when their relationship becomes known in the multiverse. Even Dream's closest friend Swap doesn't approve. While Swap doesn't kick him out of their shared house, nor does he create conflicts of the matter, Dream can't bear feeling the disappointment from him. He leaves to live with Nightmare and cuts ties with everyone. Dream have been mentally ill and dependent all this time and Nightmare knew that, but he never had to see it to it's full before. Now that Nightmare is Dream's only mean of support, it turns out that he requires more patience than Nightmare is ready to give. Dream would cling to him all day and have a mental breakdown if he tries to leave him even for an hour. Nightmare thinks about confronting Dream about taking a pause in their relationship and him moving out for some time. He has only good intentions. While he doesn't understand what he does wrong he can clearly see that nothing he does help. He thinks that the root of the problem is Dream's self inflicted isolation and therefore that it can be solved if he's motivated to get out of the castle and touch grass or something. At some point he snaps and it all comes out in agressive wording. He berates himself for it after Dream leaves but still thinks it's for the better.
Context 🍎🍎⬇️
This scene in fanfic was supposed to foreshadow the ending
For Dream it was the end of the world. Nightmare told him to get better and then return, but at this point, Dream doesn't believe that he can get better. And that means he can't return. Disconnected from reality, he sometimes wanders with no purpose, sometimes sits for hours, catatonic. A few days later he comes to the conclusion that there is nothing he can do to fix himself or their relationship. As well as there's nothing to his life without his brother. And he ends his life.
As for how he did it without dooming the multiverse there's an explanation but this wall of text is already too long so I won't go into details.
Context ended 👍
Before I rant why this drawing is stupid and I hate it, I'd like to say that I'm glad that I did this artwork even if I'm not glad how it turned out. I finally found a way to do this kind of rendering!! Was trying to grasp it for a while now. It feels like I learned a lot in general. Tried a lot of brushes and functions in krita 👍
Now rant
First of all this composition was a mistake. This whole scene was a mistake I don't know why I had trouble imagining this indoors (in fanfic Nightmare brings the lilies to bed in the morning). Now I clearly see a better composition and INDOORS HOW IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE.
It is also a mystery as to why I thought that I should change Dream in other clothes 😩 It was also another outfit from the start but I changed it last minute..... Now when I see it finished it's obvious that Dream's original clothes would have been better. Did I say that I hate white and black combination in clothing but couldn't find any other that fits in
Also stupid vines on the stone!!!!! It was supposed to be moss but I couldn't torture the moss out of myself (and out of my laptop which was suffering of RAM shortage past two days because the drawing is too heavy) and had to settle for them.....
I want to do better lighting too but I'm too tired of this artwork at the moment
A lot of other small details need tweaking as well.....
If you want to ask whether I just slapped a photo of boots just and increased its exposition to make it look more like I drew it instead of actually drawing boots YES I DID NOW WHAT. I DID THE SAME FOR THE RIBBON ON BOUQUET
Ok bye my eyes are going to fall out from staring at the screen so much. Will edit this post later
The flowers in Nights flower crown are purple hyacinths, which represent a desire for forgiveness and sorrow. The flowers in Dreams flower crown are yellow tulips, which represent unrequited love.
The twins made the flower crowns together with the context of Night knowing flower language and Dream not. I think the underlying implication of Dreams niavety foreshadowing Nights future corruption was a really lovely undertone to the piece!!
… Or it could just be some incest fluff art. LOL!!
Tags: darkness and light, zombie apocalypse, alternate universe - zombie apocalypse, minor violence, death, cannibalism (implied), betrayal, developing friendships, light angst, mentions of suicide (more implied than anything but still putting it here), monsters bleed, hopeful ending (maybe), alternating pov
Written for @dreammareweek
Theme: Darkness and Light
Summary:
How long had it been since this all started?
Since the first Infected stumbled into the world, bringing chaos with it?
Felt like years. Years that could actually be mere months. Either way...felt too long. Too damn long.
Days blended together. Each one containing the same routine: wake up, sneak around, find food, eat when possible, check for bites, hide, search for medicine (just in case), be wary of fellow survivors, maybe bathe, find a place to sleep, check for scratches, make sure the coast was clear, sleep.
[Dream x Nightmare, they find each other in the dark]
Nightmare waited until the rest of the council members left the meeting hall before following after Dream. It was unusual for his twin to be the first to leave any social function, especially one so important to the fragile balance they had agreed to maintain. The guardian of positivity was dutiful and hospitable, making sure everyone felt welcome - even his former enemies.
With the truce in place Nightmare had assumed that Dream would extend him the same kindness, perhaps even favor him after being so long apart. Except that after almost a century of chasing, Dream avoided Nightmare now more than ever. He wasn’t rude, never that, but he held Nightmare at a painfully polite distance. Whenever Nightmare tried to engage him in conversation or approached him outside of meetings, Dream would clam up and deflect.
It was disappointing. He thought that Dream had overcome his penchant for blissful ignorance. They had personal things to discuss beyond the balance of the multiverse. Their heart-to-heart was long overdue, but it would never happen if Dream refused to be alone with him.
Nightmare drifted through the shadows until he reached the balcony which Dream had retreated to. There were no lights, even though it was dark. Gauzy curtains draped across the entryway obscured the view of his twin. He silently pulled one aside.
Dream was slumped against the stone balustrade, elbows and spine pressed to the top railing. His skull tilted to the side, eyelights looking over his shoulder into the dark. The inscrutable expression on his face was only illuminated by the cigarette which hung from his mouth and the silver slice of moon that shown high in the sky.
Nightmare watched as Dream inhaled deep before allowing the smoke to rise up out his jaw and nasal cavity. He was beautiful and captivating. That was something that would never change.
“Dream,” Nightmare drawled and stepped out onto the balcony.
Dream’s yellow eyelights closed. His relaxed posture stiffened as he pulled the cigarette away from his mouth with two bare phalanges. The gloves that normally protected his hands had been removed and tucked into his belt.
Nightmare observed this all with a sharp tenderness. It bit into his soul, festering along the other soft emotions which had taken root long before. They both knew that this confrontation was inevitable. Neither could stay away for long.
He stood in front of his twin, pinning Dream between his presence and the long drop to the ground. They were close enough that the cigarette smoke clung to the inside of Nightmare’s mouth. It was acrid.
Dream’s eye sockets finally opened again. He did not shy away from Nightmare’s encroaching darkness. Instead, he wordlessly offered him the cigarette. Nightmare smiled at the acknowledgement, but shook his skull.
“That’s a nasty habit. It’s not like you.” Nightmare said.
“I suppose it’s an acquired taste,” Dream took another drag. It was defiant as if challenging Nightmare to object, but he didn’t try to stop it.
“Besides – we’ve established that we don’t know each other that well anymore. You think I don’t have my vices?” Dream asked.
“Darling, I know vices,” Nightmare smirked. “They’re meant to be enjoyable. This just seems like you’re punishing yourself.”
Dream flinched, not denying it. Nightmare leaned in closer. The truth was so tantalizingly close, if only Dream would seize it.
“This cigarette is the only thing keeping me from ki – “ Dream coughed on the smoke.
“What was that?” Nightmare delightedly needled.
“Keeping me from killing you,” Dream gritted out. “So how about you leave and let me indulge in my self-flagellation?”
Dream looked away and didn’t reply. His jaw was clenched tight as if holding in whatever it was that plagued him.
“Ah –“ Nightmare’s single eyelight gleamed with fervor. “Not what you’ve done. What is it that you’re trying not to do? That you’re holding back from?”
Dream stubbed out the cigarette, casting them into darkness. The last light extinguished by his own hand. Only now that they were protectively shrouded could they speak honestly.
“Answer my question first and I might tell you.” Dream demanded softly. “Are you my brother or not?”
“It’s complicated.” Nightmare replied, fully open. He was a mixture of remanent memories, pained souls, and corrupted magic. And also something more than that.
“It’s always complicated when it comes to us.” Dream rolled the cigarette between his phalanges. “I miss when things were simple.”
Nightmare did not miss the past. What he wanted was a future. And that depended on this present moment, on pushing Dream just enough to join him instead of flinging himself off the balcony.
“Does it really matter, if I am?” Nightmare’s deep voice was not unkind. “Tell me. Would it be simpler to fall in love with a corrupted monster or your own brother?”
Dream gasped. He stared at Nightmare with wild eyelights. His skull shook as if resisting the bridle of truth those words cast around him.
“You’re not disgusted?” Dream spat, desperately trying to drive Nightmare away.
Nightmare would not let him.
“No. I have done many cruel and disgusting things. Loving you is not one of them.”
“What if I’m disgusted by my own desires? If we do this there’s no way back to how things were. I miss my brother, but I want you so badly.”
“Sweet Dream, we cannot live in the past. You have to let go of those poor children who lived and died under that tree. We haven’t been them for a very long time.”
Tears dripped down Dream’s cheekbones and along his jaw. They glinted in the moonlight. Nightmare reached out to cup his face. Dream allowed it, settling under his touch.
“Is it so bad? That the me I am now loves the you who stands in front of me? That I can mourn and be thankful that our past gave us this future?” Nightmare asked solemnly.
Dream flicked the stub of the cigarette he had been holding like a lifeline out over the balustrade. It dropped without a sound. The last line of defense shed after centuries of hurt and blame.
“No, it’s perfect.”
Dream presses their jaws together. Their first kiss is smoky. Both rising from the dark ashes of their past to make a bright future.
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thanks to @dreammareweek for organizing this event 💜
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