#implied dreamcest

[necropathys]

Dream asking his two alternates if it'll ever be okay, and while Shattered responds with "Well, depends. Does this look okay to you?" Swad is like "No this would be better if Nighty was here!!"

He couldn’t recall lighting the cigarette. Couldn’t place the moment he even drew it from that rarely touched drawer—an old, half-broken thing stuffed with worthless trinkets and heartfelt gifts he couldn’t bring himself to throw away.

The taste scratched over his summoned tongue, stale and bitter. A distant voice in his head reminded him he shouldn’t be doing this indoors, not without a window open. The smoke would linger on every fabric, every wall.

“Oh no, you’re not going anywhere.”

A low, commanding rumble cut through the fugue. A single finger hooked beneath the collar circling his cervical spine, pulling—just enough force to tilt him back into place before he could stand.

“Stay.”

Any protest he had died in the back of his faux-throat. The voice, sharp and resonant with dark power, pinned him down as surely as the corruption glimmering gold-black in the corner of his vision.

For the briefest moment, his blurry gaze made that presence look like someone else entirely.

A hot palm found the crown of his skull, thumb stroking comforting circles where his cranium met neck bone. He inhaled, slow and careful, letting the smoke creep through his ribcage. The rhythmic swirl eased the tension wrapped around his shoulders.

“What did he say to you, Darling, hm?”

Sol’s voice was a purr, so close he practically melded into Dream’s chest. If he could slide under his ribs, burrow inside, he would. “It had to have been him, right? No one else could upset you like this. No one else could upset us so badly.”

(Was that his goal all along? He had devoured just as many apples as Nightmare, right? Maybe Dream’s would complete him. Maybe Dream was just another tool, just like he’d always been for everyone else.)

“I…” His voice cracked, painful and raw. The memory of his encounter struck him like a downpour, each drop pounding against his resolve, making his phalanges quake. He couldn’t bring himself to say the words aloud, yet they thundered in his mind, reverberating through his marrow.

He couldn’t bring himself to repeat them. The cruel words Nightmare had flung his way—he’d heard them before, over and over. They were nothing new. But today, they lodged beneath his bones and burned fiercer than ever, leaving him shaken and silent.

The apple wouldn’t let him cry. His eye sockets burned, but only tears of happiness could slip free—hollow and mocking in their forced cheer.

He closed his eyes, weariness crushing him. He was so tired of fighting.

He wanted to go home.

He missed his brother.

But he forced out a different question, voice trembling with a desperate hope he couldn’t hide. “Does it… get any better?” It felt impossible. A futile plea, but he needed to cling to something—anything—like a drowning man reaching for driftwood.

“Well, that depends on you, doesn’t it?” Slick appendages coiled around his arms, prompting a shudder from him. He felt their grip, and behind it, the memory of Nightmare’s tendrils. Phantom pain rippled through him. “I don’t think you’d consider my state better, though I’d personally disagree.” Shattered demurred.

The implications set a heavy weight in his ribcage. Was this truly the only path? To break himself until he became the very nightmare he was trying to stop? Would that be the only way out?

His jaw trembled as he exhaled another stream of gold-flecked smoke. It was a strange quirk of his—the smoke left his mouth a different color. It swirled around them like a shimmering veil.

He wondered if Nightmare could do something similar, or if Dream was just the broken one.

“Oh, look how sad you made him.” Sol’s taunt cut through his thoughts, a chiding click of his tongue echoing in the dimness. “Don’t be greedy. You’ve savored enough of that sourness.”

The collar around Dream’s throat hummed with warmth, pulsing in time with his SOUL. He couldn’t stop a tremor from rolling down his spine as Sol leaned in, a teasing brush of feathers dancing over his shoulders.

The world felt infinitely softer. Easier to bear. The tension bled from his form.

“Really now. You don’t think we’d help you make it better?” Sol’s tone dipped into a silkier register. “You wound me, little light.”

Warm breath skimmed over Dream’s face. Smoke curled in golden ribbons around Sol, who breathed it in without a flinch—despite claiming he detested such earthly habits.

“Eventually, we’ll all be together,” Sol promised, eyes gleaming with mischief and something far darker. “Just say the word.”

He pressed in, impossibly close, a presence that Dream couldn’t ignore. “It’s only going to get better from here, my dear,” Sol said, voice thick with satisfaction. “You just have to let us help you.”

[orange-artblog]

finally done with it!! xd

what inspired this was basically an idea I had of a steven universe au where Dream and Shattered make a fusion and this ends up to be, like, post dark cream Dream? kinda (pdc by zu-is-here) (also theyre together)

shattered dream by galacii-gallery / dream by jokublog

(first fusion - body (patterns) only)

(on earth (or wherever) - body (patterns) only)

i just really love designing things xd

(original (?) - body (patterns) only - on earth)

(closeup of the fusion face - closeup of the alone standing faces - back of Shattered‘s hair)

i dont have a lot of story for them yet beside some little tidbits/analysis in general of su xp

i can however share a little theory!! a lot of them would probably be fusions (even if forced) (since i dont know how someone like Cross would have bis story happen otherwise xp) and this would also make them generally taller

[orange-artblog]

Dream, trying to give Shattered one of the foods he cooked:

Shattered: . . .

Shattered: You and I both know why I cannot eat that.

Dream: Come on!!! Please? My cooking might've improved over the year!!

Shattered: It definitely has not.

Dream: You're so mean to me... 😒