One shots (mostly platonic tbh)

c!dream angst :)

Dream was cold. For the first time since he entered the prison, Dream was cold. He could barely feel his fingers, his muscles not responding to his desperate pleas to move.

Quackity had since long left, leaving the prisoner with a deep gash across his chest, spewing crimson at a steady pace, too steady.

Sam was late. He usually wasn't. He should've been there. He should've pearled into the cell with a sigh, forcing potions down Dream's throat until the wounds healed, until the blood stopped.

No warden came. Not this time. Dream wondered if Sam finally had enough. If he finally realized Dream wasn't worth the effort.

Seconds ticked by, painfully slowly. Dream kept his gaze locked onto the wall of lava, waiting for it to lower, waiting for the warden.

Perhaps this lava would become Dream's final memory, the final image etched into his eyes.

Dream had always hoped his death would mean something, would help a noble cause, would be remembered as something heroic.

Now it appeared he'd go out in a rather pathetic manner.

The once powerful and feared admin was nothing more than a broken man, laying in a pool of blood and vomit, unable to move, unable to talk, unable to offer even a last goodbye.

Maybe it was for the best. What would he even say if he had the chance? Sorry? No, this was better.

Sam was cutting it quite close, Dream thought, if he even planned on showing up at all.

Dream struggled to take in sufficient breaths. The gentle drip of the crying obsidian sounded far away.

This really was it, huh?

It seemed far too quiet when the admin took his final breath, when his heart beat for the final time, when the flame in his eyes died out at last, when the server lost its greatest creation.