«☆Dream angst oneshots☆» (Slow Updates)

✧☆Failed Villian☆✧

Summary:
Dream thought he was doing well at playing the villain, the source of everyone's hate, but why is everyone still fighting?

Notes:
TW: panic attack, dissociation, self-harm (from lava), death (but with reviving)

The bolded text is supposed to represent the Minecraft chat, bolded text with quotation marks are player sent messages.

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Chapter Text:

Dream thought the obsidian was beautiful, the midnight colored block reminded him of the void, a place where he could finally be free. He was laying on his side and the jagged edges of the obsidian slightly cut into his face but he didn't care. Because he wasn't supposed to care about anything anymore, right? That was the character he set for himself, that was the fate he chose.

He had no sense of time, even with that damn clock on the wall he still couldn't tell. The ticking of the clock at first annoyed the hell out of him, but now it had faded into white noise. And it only showed if it was daytime or nighttime, which didn't mean anything for Dream, how could he when he was stuck in prison? The last glimpse of the outside world he had seen was when he was first thrown into the vault. How long has it been? Weeks? Months? Maybe even years? It didn't matter anyways when no one even seemed to care about him, he could rot in prison for all they cared.

Dream closed his eyes, shutting them from the harsh glow of the flowing lava blocking off the entrance. It seemed as if that was the only thing he could do nowadays, he had exhausted every activity possible in his cell already, well, he could still do them but the entertainment had been drained from them. He already filled up all the books in the chest, every page was packed with writing, some filled with nonsense whilst some entailed pleasant memories he had shared with his former friends. It reminded him that there was good in the world, that there was a time in which he could be regarded as a close friend by others.

The chest that held all the books no longer had a lid, it had fallen off long ago from its hinges from how much Dream had continuously opened and closed it. The lectern had images carved onto its surface, engraved by a broken shard from his porcelain mask that had been shattered for as long as he could remember. If no one was going to see him, there was no need to keep his mask on, so he broke it. He broke it and kept the shards, finding that they were useful for many things.

He used a shard to carve the raw potatoes that Sam dropped to him every day; the first few days Sam dropped them off by hand before he installed the automatic dispenser. He made sculptures of items that everyone else on the SMP held close to their hearts, discs, pets, weapons, even a small figure of Skeppy were all carved by hand and were laid all in a row against the wall. The rotting smell of potatoes was harsh and putrid, eventually Dream couldn't stand the smell so he threw them in the lava. It gave him something to do though, carving more figures each time he needed a replacement.

It worried Sam at first, when Dream had died of starvation out of all things, so he visited the cell to check if the automatic potato dispenser was broken. It was one of the few times Dream saw another human being and he was ecstatic. It was then that Dream realized he could get Sam to visit his cell like this, so he kept on breaking things in his cell, asking for Sam to replace his items just so he could see a glimpse of a person.

It didn't take Sam long to realize what Dream's intentions were, so he eventually told Dream that he wouldn't get anymore replacements and that the ones he was giving him now were the last of them. Dream felt more numb than he ever did before after that.

His definition of "fun" had been warped, altered by the countless amounts of nights and days he had spent in the godforsaken prison. Spinning the clock in his cell was fun for a while until he got bored of it. Dream found that the most fun came with the searing pain of lava melting his flesh off of his bones; he'd spend hours dipping his arms into the lava, but lately he had trouble even feeling the once excruciating pain.