Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This was what he wanted, right? He wanted the SMP to all be a big family, and if that meant everyone came together to throw him in prison, so be it. Dream sat on the bed in his cell, legs and arms crossed, a small smile appearing on his lips. Yeah, he did it. He would happily rot in prison for as long as it takes so that they can all get along. Plus, how hard could prison be? Free food and a cosy room to sleep in would be a breeze. Especially for a man without a permanent home, this was a dream. He was out of their way now, no longer a burden to those he once considered friends. With him in here, they could happy; they were free. Sure, he was a bit lonely, but it was worth it for them to be satisfied. He wouldn't be out there to see his creation, but it was okay. All the best creators don't get to see their designs in action, right? Dream swears that he read that somewhere, or maybe someone told him. Anyway, he was content with that. They could enjoy the world he created without the tyrant he was interrupting it. He played the role he needed to fix the world, and as Dream sits in the dark cell, he smiles. Maybe being the monster wasn't so bad.

The blonde stands with his smile still plastered on his face. He just needs to stay positive, and this will be easy. He walks over to look at his few belongings, a lectern, clock on the wall, cauldron and chest. He smiles at the clock; the soft ticking that so many find annoying brings him comfort. The quiet ticking fills the painful silence that swallowed the cell, aside from the occasional pops from the lava outside. He watches the hand tick evenly, smiling when it hit the perfect centre. This could be a fun game to play in the future. It could be his happy hour. Dream turns to the lectern, frowning at the lack of books upon it. He ignores the cauldron since it’s literally just water and turns his full attention to the chest. It opens with a squeak, surprisingly heavy. Inside the chest are piles and piles of books. Dream’s smile grows; he loves writing. The blonde man props his knee up to hold the lid up while keeping his hands free. He pulls out the book on the top of the pile, examining the leather cover carefully. He awkwardly bends down and places it on the cold obsidian floor with care, as though it was made of glass. The chest squeaks louder as he opens it further, shuffling the books around the reach the utensil at the bottom. His hand wraps around the cylindrical object, and he pulls the pen from the chest. He closes the lid gently and with immense care, subconsciously fearing it may break. He slides down the back wall of his cell, opening the book to the first page. Maybe he could keep a journal of his time in here?

Tommy visited him. He was honestly shocked when the lava parted, and his first visitor was the boy he manipulated and tore apart. At first, Dream felt guilty for his actions, but all he had to do was remind himself of the end goal, the goal he had since achieved. His mind flashed with memories of exile and everything he’d ever done to Tommy as the blonde crossed the bridge towards the cell. He cringed slightly, a feeling similar to the guilt he used to feel settling in his chest. He stayed sitting, huddled in the corner with his knees to his chest. His favourite spot. Tommy marched over, and Dream envied the energy he carried. The blonde draws his knees in further, feeling sinking anxiety fill his stomach, fitting in alongside the guilt. He detached his increasingly sweaty hands from one another to readjust his mask, nervously checking to ensure his face was concealed from the younger. 

Tommy avoids eye contact as he waits for the lava to fall once more, and once the netherite barrier disappears, he snaps his attention to the sad pile of Dream curled in the corner.

The child yelled at him, and Dream didn't do anything about it. He could tell that behind Tommy's brave face, he was scared. Scared of Dream and what he'd become. They'd been friends once, but Dream had to ruin it. For the good of the SMP. In his eyes, friends were temporary; family was forever. Still, he couldn't help but feel bad for the pain he caused the younger blonde. Tommy went through what little he owned, taking his clock, spouting insults aimed at the older before stopping to look at the chest full of seemingly blank books. He instructs Dream to write him some books before turning and leaving, but not before threatening the blonde once more. Dream scoffs as the idea of doing something for the child. Why would he write those books for him? As he watches the lava fall behind Tommy, he stands still.

Once he was sure Sam and Tommy were gone, he moves to the chest that contained Tommy's books, picked them up and walked to the lava. He held the books in his hand for a moment before shaking his head. Did I seriously just consider doing that? The blonde scoffs and tosses the first few into the lava with ease. However, Dream finds himself hesitating on the last one. For some reason, the book won't leave his hand. Dream sighs and tosses the book on the floor, just out of the lava. He walks back over to the chest and pulls out another book. Dream's Journal. He writes another entry.

It's too much; the voices are too loud. He needs to drown them out. He's been in here too long. The voices have grown too strong. Dream tosses his journal carelessly across the floor while he claws at his ears, whimpering like a pathetic dog. Tears stream from his eyes as he desperately tries to shut them up. His pen rolls off his lap, causing him to flinch. He watches it for a moment, mesmerised as it rolls away before hitting the wall and coming to a halt. Once his distraction ends, the voices take over once more.

On the outside of prison, there were distractions, things to entertain the demons in his mind. But here, there was nothing. He used his journal and the clock initially, but the more time passed, the less effective his distractions became. Dream whines, nails digging into the sides of his head. The whine soon evolves into a violent scream, shredding his vocal cords. This scream becomes many, prolonged and painful. The screams can be heard all through the prison, but Dream knows Sam won't come to see him. Sam doesn't care about him. He won't come to see what's wrong. He pauses to catch his breath, eyes scrunching shut as he lets out another terrible scream. Liquid flows from his mouth, a mix of saliva and blood pools on the obsidian floor. Anger builds in his body, and he tries to release the overflowing tension. The blonde punches the ground, basking in the satisfying feeling that follows, and repeats. Abusing the ground as he did those he loved.

The blonde's bloody and broken nails scrape across his ears, unknowingly cutting the already fraying straps to his smiling mask. The porcelain smile falls to the ground, breaking into pieces. His safety net, gone. The tall man's eyes open in shock, and his jaw drops, ignoring the trickle of something from his mouth and the throbbing in his hands. He falls to the floor, knees smacking painfully against the hard rock floor. Dream lets out a flow of raspy 'no's as he assesses the damage to his precious mask. He desperately tries to pick up the pieces, to fix was he broke. Ironic, really, since he was trying to fix an SMP that was broken because of him. The once white pieces turn red in his hands, slipping through his slippery fingers and leaving new cuts behind. He can't lose another thing from outside; he's already losing so much. He's tried to document his memories in his journal, but he no longer remembers writing them. The memories of the outside were fading fast, and Dream was panicking. 

The voices, the memories and now the mask, it was too much. He'd been isolated for months now, 82 days exactly. Since the only thing to do here was watch the clock tick and write in the haunting diaries. An idea strikes him, and he pathetically wipes his red hands on his clothes. He picks up the less broken side of the mask, looking over the missing part on the right side. Dream undoes the string from the broken right half with trouble from his swollen hands and ties it back on the wearable piece with some struggle. The blonde places it back over his face, right eye fully uncovered and smiles. The smile doesn't quite reach his red and puffy eyes, making it look sinister. Dream's hand is brought up to his face, and he strokes it slightly, grateful for the feeling of being hidden behind the mask. He doesn't think about the red stripe that now stained the white porcelain, but it probably matches the red that was already there. The blonde laughs, raspy and horrible due to the torn vocal cords, and the laugh devolves back into screaming. Pathetic, wheezy and painful screaming, but screaming nonetheless. He can't even remember why he's yelling anymore, and slowly his voice gives out. He hits the ground.

The lava is parting. Dream sits quietly at the back of his cell, sprawled out on the floor, sitting in agony of his own actions. His throat feels it's on fire, and he's continuously been coughing up blood since he broke his mask. Thinking of the mask, he brings his hand up, tracing the eye of the mask, wincing as his hands throb with pain. Despite being able to see half of his face now, the blonde feels safe still. He runs damaged fingers over the cracks on the side, breathing in the cuts that follow the action. Dream returns his hands to his lap to fiddle. The blonde can no longer speak, any sound that leaves his mouth, causing excruciating pain. Despite the pain in his hands, Dream continues to pick at his deformed and broken fingernails. A nervous habit he's always had. 

He closes the journal that he had sat in his lap, ignoring the drops of blood that had now stained the pages. He lifts it slowly and places it next to him, using an insane amount of effort for such a simple action. He leaves the pen in his lap, not finding it in himself to move that too. If he ignores the pain, it will go away. He watches the lava slowly dissipate. Dream assumes it's Tommy, and he wishes he could yell out to Sam to tell him to fuck off. He'd instead drink lava than speak to that child again. But of course, he has no voice to shout; therefore, he will have to deal with Tommy now. Yet as the lava parts, he sees a shorter man wearing white. Not Tommy. If he remembers correctly, Tommy had blonde hair and was taller, whereas this man was shorter and had brunette hair. Dream squints his eyes, trying to see the other better. 

For a minute,  Dream can't remember who it was; his memory became hazier each day. What used to be clear images in his head have become blurry and quiet, no longer containing any meaning to him. The man begins to walk across the bridge to him, and Dream's eyes widen with realisation. Sapnap came to see him. Sapnap was going to see him like this, weak and pathetic. The man enters the cell. As he waits for the lava to fall and the barrier to vanish, he makes sure to stare directly at the now shaking Dream. When it does, he storms over, grabbing the blonde's face and forcing him to make eye contact.

Sapnap immediately makes sure Dream knows why he's there. Dream really regrets losing his voice now, since Sapnap spouts insult after insult, promise after promise, and he can only listen. Listen to his ex-best friend promise him that he would kill him if Dream ever got out. Listen to his promise to make it slow and painful. Sapnap made sure to let him know how pathetic he looks, blood all over and mask cracked in half. He doesn't even care to ask what happens. Sapnap, the man who he believes was his best friend, doesn't care anymore. And rightfully so. Dream makes a mental note to add that to his journal. He also needed to add that he didn't deserve to be cared about to avoid future confusion. 

After he ran out of energy, Sapnap left without sparing the blonde a glance. Sapnap left, and Dream screamed.

Something is wrong, more so than usual. Dream sits in front of his food station as another meal drops from the dispenser. Although Dream never has an appetite, he swears he was getting less and less food. He used to get three raw potatoes three times a day; however, he only counted two. Although he hated potatoes, he didn't feel right knowing his food rations were lessened without his knowledge. Sam would've at least come in tell him, right? The blonde wasn't sure if he was hallucinating or not as he held the flavourless food in his broken hands. Did Dream always get these rations? Maybe he was overreacting? He tended to overreact a lot more in prison, the isolation finally causing him to lose it more with each passing day. Sure, he already avoided eating what was given; however, this was slightly concerning. He didn't know if he could trust his memory since it had been particularly foggy as of late. It could be the lack of food he'd been eating, but he wasn't going to stop playing his new game in order to remember all the terrible things he'd done. 

See, Dream discovered a game recently, but he hadn't thought of a name for it yet. He'd made sure to write the rules down in his journal to make sure he didn't forget. The aim was to see how long he could go without eating before he couldn't take the pain anymore. Once it became too much, he allowed himself to eat a potato or two, usually throwing the rest in the lava. He didn't think he deserved the rest after he failed his game. Sometimes, if he beat his record, he'd have an extra as a reward. So far, he'd written down that his record was four and a half days. Maybe this was Sam trying to help him? He probably noticed that Dream hadn't been eating all the potatoes he provided, so he cut them back to stop wasting food. This is the most logical reasoning he could think of, and he silently thanks Sam for his kind consideration since his voice no longer worked. 

A small smile comes to Dreams lips at the thought of Sam looking after him like this, and he moves away from the food dispenser. He feels more content now, and when he looks at the clock, he sees it's almost happy hour. The blonde feels giddy at the thought and springs over to the clock. This has been a good day, he thinks. He figured out that Sam is helping him, and he didn't sleep through happy hour today. He sits down cross-legged in front of the clock, staring at it and fidgeting with anticipation. He feels more and more excited the closer the hand was to be vertical, and as it ticks over, he sighs in relief. He smiles, feeling genuinely happy, and allows himself to relax back to a neutral feeling once the moment passes. Happy time is the best time.

Dream sits patiently, staring at the dispenser and driving himself insane. It had been a while since he first notices the lack of food, maybe a month, and since then, it had become worse. He didn't know if he could not keep track of time or something that should be genuinely worrying, but there had been no food for a while. The place below the dispenser lay bare as it had been for days. Dreams stomach started to grumble uncomfortably, but not painful yet. Maybe this was Sam playing Dream's game with him? To be honest, he didn't know if he liked the game anymore. Dream wanted the self-control he had to develop, but now, there was no option but to starve. At least he had a name for the game now, Zenosyne. His vocabulary had always been quite unique from the days of his childhood; he'd spend writing countless stories. He'd picked up many fancy words from his mother, who had a fascination with the English language and storytelling. Dream supposes that's where he gets it. He misses her, but she wouldn't be proud of him, not after everything he's done.

Dream stands and walks to the spot in which is food would drop from, patting the floor and searching for some mystical invisible food. He's getting desperate and starving. Anything was possible, including the fact that Sam could've been pranking him. Maybe Sapnap put him up to it. Sapnap hates him, so he assumes the younger would do something like this in order to teach his old friend a lesson. The blonde sighs, standing back up and going over to his chest. He lifts the heavy lid, noticing it takes a bit more effort today than usual and removes his journal. He sits in front of the clock and begins writing. Under the page labelled "Sam", he adds a dot point. -Listening (?)  He really hopes that Sam is watching and will feed him soon. Maybe he did something wrong, and this was his punishment? If that's the case, Dream can't remember doing anything he wasn't supposed to. The blonde stuck to a routine daily and never did anything out of order. Unless, of course, something weird happened, like this. He stands quickly, looking at nothing in particular. 

“Sam,” his voice cracks painfully and comes out as a whisper. “Sam please, I don’t wanna play anymore.” 

Dream walks over to the dispenser and begins banging on it, hoping for something, anything to come out. He looks up into the hole but it was closed tight, and with his weak hands, nothing could be done. His stomach grumbles again, more aggressive and demanding each time.

“Sam, I broke my record, can I eat now please?” But at this point, he didn’t know if Sam was even listening.

He has one last idea, one sliver of hope that he won't rot in this damn cell. Dream hadn’t even for over a full week. The blonde's stomach cramps painfully at the slightest movement and doesn't take kindly to Dream attempting to move to the other side of his small cell. He crawls to the wall incredibly slowly and in agonising pain. The man puts all of his weight on the rotting lectern and reaches above it. Dream's knees fail him, barely managing to swipe his precious clock off the wall as he collapses. The now weak man hits the ground hard, twisting to land on his back to protect the clock from the fall. The wind is knocked out of him, making it harder than it already was to breath. His breathing becomes heavier, panting from the combination of the fall and such little movement. The frail man crawls to the giant wall of lava and draws his arm back. 

Dream pathetically tosses the clock in the direction of the magma wall. He is less than a metre away from it, yet his throw isn't strong enough. The clock falls to the floor, glass shattering and spraying onto the man on the floor. He looks back to watch it roll briefly and instantly disintegrates in the molten heat. His last-ditch attempt to get help would work. A ghost of a smile appears on Dreams lips, hopeful for the first time in a while. Sam always came to fix his clock, no matter how many times he said it was his last. He could get help; he wasn't going to die like this. Now all he needs to do is wait.

Apparently, this was the last time. Sam never came. The brief moment of hope was crushed after only a few hours. Dream managed to drag himself to the back of the cell once again after becoming overwhelmed by the lava's heat. The smile didn't leave his lips for a while as his eyes stayed glued to the lava, waiting for that first sign it was falling. But it never did. And over the span of a few hours, the smile slowly fell from his face and was replaced with a blank stare. For a usually restless man, he sat perfectly still until the last light of hope inside dissipated. With the clock gone and showing no sign of returning, Dream couldn't tell how long he'd spent sitting and staring at the lava. The familiar ticking sound was gone, eery silence replacing it. His legs had long since grown numb, but he couldn't care. Keeping his eyes trained ahead of him, he reaches a frail and shaking hand beside him, feeling around. Once it finds the book sitting next to him, his arm is on fire. With the weakness in his arm, he struggles to turn the pages, becoming almost frantic at his lack of mobility. Picking up his pen put an intense strain on his shoulder, causing a raw and raspy whimper from his throat; since his voice had permanently left at this point. 

He scribbles his last few thoughts down, struggling to form the correct letters. After a while of somewhat succeeding attempts to write down his goodbye, he drops the pen, watching with dead eyes as it rolled out of reach. He had no more tears to cry as his stomach rumbling painfully. He groans, clutching it while it eats itself from the inside out. Dream embraces the pain, only wishing death would come quicker. He doesn't have enough energy to move his head, so his eyes pan around the cell that was becoming his grave. This was the room he would rot it, and no one would know. Actually, no one would care. And you know what, they shouldn't. It took 6 months in this hellhole to figure it out, but Dream messed up. Every bad thing that happened in this server was his fault, his failed attempt at unity. He deserves the slow and painful demise he is enduring, and he deserves every second of it. Maybe with him truly gone, they can finally have peace.

His eyes close without much fight, his mind feeling fuzzy and dizzy. Dream's head spins, causing him to zone out and lose where he is. He feels himself sway, despite being propped up against a wall. He has no energy to fight it. He gives in to gravity, collapsing on his side, agony shooting through his body. He closes his eyes tighter. This is it. The all-powerful Dream, God of the SMP. The man who controlled and manipulated everyone around him because of some sick and twisted morals. This man was dying to hunger. Onism taking over his whole body, leaving him in despair. His final thought as he feels the light fade, pathetic . 

Dream starved to death .

Chapter Text

The man sits in a dark room, fiddling with the hands of the clock. He knew Dream threw his clock in the lava on purpose again and wanted to teach him a lesson. Sam had his legs up on the desk, leaning back in his chair as he hums a familiar tune. The monitor with the live footage from Dream’s cell has been turned to the side, and the screen was dimmed; the blondes constant wandering had become distracting to Sam. He seems to have gone still now, sleeping soundly for the first time in a while. Sam knew the man suffered from insomnia; however, he didn’t necessarily care. Dream was a terrible person; he doesn’t deserve luxuries like a pillow to help him sleep. Growing up, Dream had confided in Sam to share his trouble sleeping, saying he found it hard to sleep without holding onto something. He also mentioned the constant nightmares whenever he closed his eyes, but the creeper hybrid didn’t really pay much attention. However, he is now pleasantly surprised that the younger was sleeping soundly in his cell as he had been every time Sam checked the monitor briefly.

He places the clock on his desk, satisfied that is was working correctly before he gave it to Dream. He hoped the younger had learnt his lesson by now, and he wouldn’t throw his clock anymore. The hybrid picks up his communicator, scanning through recent messages, looking for the one he expected only to see nothing. He sighs, placing his communicator in his pocket and standing up. The blonde wasn’t allowed to go to the cell unless the other was here, and honestly, he didn’t want to go to the cell. 

He’d been purposely avoiding it for weeks now, relying solely on the automatic food dispenser to provide his food to Dream. The last time the creeper hybrid went to see Dream was months ago when he decided to teach Dream a lesson for misbehaving. The only reason he has to go now is to replace the blonde man’s clock. It had been so long since Dream had last thrown his clock in the lava; why would he do it now? Maybe the ticking was finally breaking him? Sam smiles at the thought. Good, he deserves it. That man caused so much chaos and pain to his own server, and here he is, serving a life sentence in the prison he commissioned.

His communicator buzzes in his pocket, and Sam pulls it out, already knowing what to expect. 

Sapnap whisper to you: im here

The creeper hybrid smiles, thankful that he no longer has to sit in that damn office. He places his communicator back in his pocket, turning off the screen to the cell and heading out to meet Sapnap. The walkway to the front of the prison was barely lit, but Sam knew it like the back of his hand. Sam walks down the hallway with haste, just wanting this visit to be over. He continues humming the same tune, trying not to let the prison's silence get to him until he reaches the main room. In here, he calls Sapnap in and waits for the brunette to come through the portal. 

Once the two were together, conversation flowed easily, despite the nervous energy radiating from Sap. It was understandable since the younger was about to see his former best friend for the first time in a while. Months actually. They skip through most security precautions, and Sam doesn’t make Sapnap leave his things in the locker. He doesn’t see a point now because the brunette hates Dream with a passion; he wouldn’t let him out in a million years. Plus, Dream wouldn’t be able to get our anyway since he had become weaker in prison. The lack of proper foods and exercise had had an impact on the other blondes body. Sam knew how easy it had become to overpower him. This should be a quick in and out visit. All they had to do was give Dream and clock while Sapnap spoke to him about whatever he wanted to. Easy, right?

The closer they got to the cell, the less they spoke. Sapnap was practically bouncing off the walls with anxiety, but as much as it annoyed Sam, he needed to be understanding. Sapnap had last come to visit Dream was months ago; of course, he’d be nervous to see how he was going. Sam just hoped he wasn’t still sleeping. They both expected to see the blonde tyrant standing in the doorway to the cell when they arrived as he always did. The men reached the main room, and Sam continues playing with the hands on the clock as he walks. They split silently, Sapnap going to wait in front of the lava while Sam went to drop it down.

The lava fell slowly, and the silence between the men was suffocating. Sam felt like he was choking with the room's tension, but he was thankful that the tension was directed towards a masked tyrant and not him. The blonde glanced over towards his wall of… tools that he used for when Dream was misbehaving. He smiles a bit at the memories of having the 'oh so powerful God for the SMP' screaming and begging for his mercy. It made him feel powerful. He only did it once or twice, then decided that coming into the cell was too much effort and decided to isolate Dream completely instead. The younger hadn't been allowed visitors in a long time, so Sam imagines that he's going to be ecstatic to see people today. Sapnap looks over to Sam and catches him zoned out, following his gaze to where it lies on the wall of torture devices. 

"What was this used for?" the brunette breaks the silence. Sap walks over to the wall and pointing at a sword that still had blood on it. It looked old and hastily cleaned.

Sam shrugs, "Don't remember," he states simply. Sap nods, turning back to the lava just in time to see the top drop past the door line. Sam lets out the breath he didn't know he was holding and tries to relax, knowing the younger probably didn't buy it but didn't question either. 

“Move with the bridge as it goes. I’ll pull this lever and come join you in a second,” Sam states, voice even and professional. Sam does as he said, flicking the lever that makes the bridge move and climbs on next to Sapnap just before it begins to move. The closer they get, the more a feeling of dread comes of the two men. Like something is seriously, seriously wrong. Once the bridge hits the other side, they notice that Dream is still sleeping. Sam shrugs, climbing over the netherite barrier to replace the clock on the wall. He turns and sees that Sap did the same and was now walking over to an unconscious Dream, probably catching up on the months and months of lying awake. Sam patiently waits for Dream to awaken as Sapnap calls softly to him, shaking his shoulder gently. He doesn’t stir.  The brunette looks to Sam, and he now notices the concern laced in the other man's features. Sapnap’s eyes are wide, and he looks scared. Now that feeling of dread sam felt before comes back full force. The creeper hybrid walks over to the two as Sap begins frantically shaking Dream, shouting his name.

For the first time since they got there, Sam looks around the cell. He notices a book and pen that lay next to Dream on the floor, blood all over the walls and the thick scent of metal. How he didn’t notice that before, the blonde doesn’t know. 

“Sap, ch-check his pulse,” Sam gulps, watching Sapnap place two fingers to Dreams neck with a shaking hand.

“S-sam, I can’t f-find it,” panic was filling the youngers tone. Sam’s eyes widen as he watches Sapnap frantically press his fingers to Dreams neck and wrists, desperate to find something. Sam feels as though he’s floating, stuck outside his head. He cannot move as he watches Sapnap’s breathing quicken and tears prick in his eyes as he checks Dream’s pulse repeatedly. But nothing can be done. 

Sam finally takes a good look at Dream and is disgusted. The man is covered in cuts and bruises, burns and blood, all while looking dangerously skinny. He looks pathetic. The big bad villain of the SMP reduced to nothing but a husk of who he used to be. Stuck in his thoughts, he doesn’t notice that Sapnap has stopped moving, now sitting with Dream’s head in his lap and his head down. The creeper hybrid finally feels his limbs again, slowly moving towards the two and sitting beside the brunette, placing a hand on his back. Sap doesn’t move as he whispers to Sam.

“He’s really gone,” his defeated tone physically hurt the blonde to hear. Sam finds he can’t speak, so he rubs a circle into the brunettes back. Sap blinks away his tears and lifts his gaze, something catching his eye. Sam follows his gaze to what appeared to be a bloodied and battered book sitting to the side of the body. Sapnap reaches over to it and grabs it. He tries to open it but finds that he can’t control his fingers through the tremor in his hands. Sam sees this and takes it from him easily since his demeanour was much calmer, though still in shock. He lifts the cover, not surprised when the surface also tears in his fingers. The writing on the pages were neat, borders of the book filled with doodles and smiley faces.

“It’s a journal,” Sam whispers, primarily to himself. Sapnap perks up at this information, placing Dreams head back on the floor so he could see the book better. They look at each other, and dead eyes meet tearful ones as Sam begins to read. 

Day 1

This is gonna be easy. Now everyone can be a big family without me. Plus, i have this cool clock, i love it :)

Day 5

I need to stay positive. I’m alone, but im used to being alone. I need to stay positive :)

Day 11

Okay this is more difficult than i thought it would be, but it’s okay. As long as they’re happy :)

Day 20

Tommy came, and he yelled at me. He told me to write books as ‘homework’ but i threw them in lava. Well, not all of them. :)

Sams perks up slightly at the last sentence. He lifts his eyes from the weathered pages and looks around the room, eyes purposely avoiding the green figure at the back of the cell. He steps slowly towards the chest as though he’s scared of what he’ll find. Sapnap follows behind him, lurking over his shoulder. Sam lifts the chest hesitantly, surprised at the difficulty in which it raises. Inside are a pile of untouched books. Sapnap reaches over Sam and grabs the top book out after noticing some usage evidence on the cover. They don’t speak as Sam quietly closes the chest, as though he’s trying not to wake the man who lay in eternal rest beside them. The hybrid positions himself beside Sapnap as the younger opens the book and smiles. Inside is Tommy’s messy handwriting, spelling out How to get girls. He hears the brunette stifle a laugh at the ridiculous writing prompt, but they both have the same question. Why did Dream keep this? 

“That child is an idiot,” Sam says, trying to take some of the tension from the room. Sap only hums as he places the book back atop the chest and gestures to Sam to continue.

Day 25

Discovered a new game inspired by something Tommy did. The aim is to see how fast i can spin my clock, it’s fun :)

Day 34 (i think)

I’m scared, my mind is foggy. Maybe I just need more sleep?

Day 42

I think I’m forgetting

Day 45

I wrote down everything I remember about people at the back because i don’t want to forget

Sam flips to the back of the book, only to find it empty. The pages had been ripped out, it seems, just causing more confusion to run through the hybrid. Sam runs his fingers over the tears carefully, noticing they'd been torn with haste by the jagged tear. He looks at Sapnap, meeting the other watery eyes. The brunette just shrugs and reaches over to turn the page, hinting at Sam to move on. Sam, still confused, complies, assuming that his question will be answered later on.

Day 67

I havent written in a while, I couldn’t bring myself to. Im sorry

Day 70

Sam hurt me. It’s okay though, i deserve it.

Sam gulped. He sees Sapnap turn to him in his peripheral vision. He meets the others questioning gaze. Sam shrugs and goes to continue reading, but Sap wasn’t done. 

“What does he mean, Sam?” Sapnap asks cautiously, seemingly afraid of the answer.

“He wasn’t behaving, so I took actions in my own hands,” Sam looks down, guilt settling in his stomach. “I only did it once, I swear-”

“Stop,” Sapnap snaps and Sam immediately complies. “Just reading the fucking book.”

Day 76

I ripped out the info about everyone. I can’t remember writing it and it has to be fake. I was the bad person, not them.

Day 80

I need to get out, they’re too loud

The next few pages will haunt them forever. Each page is close to empty, and stained with blood. Sam shivers as he reads the words, guilt flowing into his body. From this point in the journal, his handwriting gets messier and harder to read, each sentence taking a few seconds to understand.

Day 82

i broke my mask. It hurts but i deserve it i think

Day 83

My throat hurts and it hurts to write

Day 90

I’m so sorry

Day 94

Sapnap visited and I couldn’t remember him at first. That scares me. I couldn’t speak to him, my throat no longer works. 

He promised to kill me, is it bad that I want him to?

Sam felt Sap shiver beside him, but he didn’t dare make eye contact. He knew what he would see, and he didn’t want to feel sympathy for Dream. He knew that Sapnaps eyes were filled with tears. They had been for the past hour they’d been there. The hybrid hears the younger whisper something about regretting that, but he ignores him and moves on.

Day 108

I have a new game!! I don’t know what to call it yet but the goal is too see how long i can last without eating.

Day 119

I beat my record! It was 3 days and is now 4 whole days!! I still don’t have a name though, my brain kinda hurts.

Day 130

I broke my record again, 4 and a half days now. Why don’t I feel excited?

Day 136

I punched the wall. I can’t feel it

Day 145

Did I always get this amount of food?

Day 149

Something is wrong. I don’t think my food isn’t working properly

Day 151

Maybe I always got this many

Day 152

Are you helping me with my game? You’re so nice to me Sam. I know you’re listening but I can’t speak so I’ll write it down and hold it up, maybe you have cameras in here.

On the following page was Sams name scribbled in bold letters with a heart underneath it. The creeper hybrid shudders. Dream thought that he was helping him with his sick game? No, he would never. No matter how much Sam hated Dream for what he’d done, he never wanted him to die. Sam fights back the guilt in his stomach, and with shaky hands, he tries to turn the page. Tears spring to the warden’s eyes, and he places the book down on the lectern for a moment, needing to ground himself. Sam takes deep breathes, reminding himself that this is real and actually happened no matter how much he wants to deny it. Sapnap does nothing but stares at the warden, feeling no sympathy for him as he struggles to keep himself from panic. He opens the book back open, involuntarily shuddering once he sees the blood and flicks back to his spot.

Day 154 

There’s not enough food

Day 160 

Sam, whatever I did to upset you I am so sorry. Please give me more food

Day 168

I’ll just keep playing my game and save the food

Day 170?

I don’t know how long it’s been, but there’s no food

At this, Sam stands, the younger following his action. He hands the book to the brunette and walks over the where the food dispenser was. Sure enough, it was jammed. Sam could make out the shadow of several potatoes that were clogging the entrance. Sam asks Sapnap for a stick which the other provides silently. With a quick poke, the potatoes tumbled out of the hole and on the ground, the smell of rotting food filling the air. The blonde hears the younger gasp behind him. Both men stood in shock. It was easy to unclog, meaning Dream was too weak to try and didn't understand what was wrong until it was too late. Neither man speaks on it as Sam takes the book back from Sap and continue.

Day 175?

PLEASE SAM, I’M SO HUNGRY

Day 176

SAM PLEASE

Day 179

I’m so sorry

182

I’m so so sorry

Day 184

Happy 6 month anniversary Dream

Day 185

I can feel myself drifting constantly, what do I do? I can’t eat a book, can I? Somone, anyone help me. It hurts so bad, I can’t do this anymore.

Day 186

Goodbye, I’m so sorry

Sam just stared at the book, ignoring the blood that was smeared across it. He ignored the guilt that settled uncomfortably in his gut. He ignored the thump next to him as Sapnap collapsed in tears. He ignored the body that lay peacefully across the cell from them. And finally, he ignored the blood spread across the floors and walls over the obsidian. Sam places the book in his pocket, unable to look at it for a second longer. He heard a sniffle from beside him, but he couldn't bear to look at Sapnap. A long string of silence ensues as both men let today's event properly sink in.

"This is your fault," a raspy voice sounds from beside him, barely audible. Sam looks down at Sapnap and opens his mouth to say something but is cut off.

"You're the warden Sam, you're supposed to keep him safe. That's your job, isn't it?" The brunette's eyes stay trained to the dark obsidian floor, but his voice is packed with malice. 

"Sap-" Sam tries again.

"NO, Sam. You had two goals. Keep Dream in prison and keep him safe. And you failed to do the most important of the two." Sapnaps voice cracks on the last sentence, sadness seeping into the harsh tone.

"Sap, this wasn't my fault," but as the words left his lips, he knew they weren't true. He should've checked the dispenser. He should've been watching the cameras. He should never have muted the audio to the cell. 

Sapnap looks up to the hybrid, eyes gleaming with unshed tears. The two hold eye contact for a minute, Sam getting more and more uncomfortable under the fiery glare of the younger. The first tear falls from Sap’s eye, and he breaks the eye contact, allowing Sam to breathe.

“We need to tell everyone,” were the following words spoken by the younger male. Sam’s eyes widen, and he drops down beside Sapnap, placing his hands on the other’s shoulders and forcing him to look at him. 

“Sapnap, we can’t. Please, we can’t tell anyone.” Sam begs, while Sapnap just shakes his head, brushing Sam off him and standing on shaky legs. The brunette stumbles slightly as he stands, placing a hand to the bloodied obsidian wall before retracting it immediately. The hybrid watches Sap sigh and peel his eyes from the wall, looking down at Sam instead. 

“You will, or I will for you,” Sam shudders; Sap had forced his hand. “ANyways, Warden, I’m reading to leave. With Dream.”

Finally, everyone was gathered in the community house. Sapnap stood next to Sam, head down and eyes trained to the floor. They dreaded this moment from the second they left the prison. Dreams body currently lay behind them in a bed, covered by a blanket and Sam's cloak. The presence of such a thing was unnerving to the creeper hybrid; however, they couldn't leave him in prison. Dream was hidden from view and wouldn't gain and questioning glances from those in the room. The crowd in the house was confused, especially after such a vague but urgent message from Sam. There was a murmuring chatter in the room, and everyone had picked up on the thick tension between Sam and Sapnap. The two stood next to each other; however, they left about a foot of space between them.

Neither were talking, and Sapnap wasn't even looking at anyone. Sam clears his throat, and immediately the room quiets down, everyone's eyes darting to him. The blonde glances nervously around the room, taking in who was there and what the reaction may be. George was standing with Bad, and he doesn't think those two will take it lightly, although they did have a falling out all those months ago. Next was Ghostbur, Philza and Techno, who had travelled all the way from the tundra to hear the news. He can't predict how they will react; however, he doesn't think Techno will be happy to hear that his rival/friend was deceased. Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo stood together, and he predicts that Tommy and Tubbo will be elated at the news, but he doesn't know Ranboo's stance. The last people were Karl, Quackity, puffy and Niki, and he thinks-

Sapnap shoves Sam hard in the side, breaking him from his thoughts. The hybrid looks at the brunette, seeing a warning in his eyes, and he sucks in a breath. He has to do this because if the younger man does, it will be so so much worse. 

"So uh, thanks for coming on such short notice," Sam's voice is shaky, and he hears Sapnap scoff beside him. It causes the hybrid to hesitate, fiddling with his hands nervously. Dream used to do that.

"What's up, big man?" Tommy calls out, concern lacing his features. Sam takes a deep breath.

"Something happened in prison," He mumbles out before the room erupts into chaos. Shouting and yelling fills the air and makes Sam's head hurt more than before. He tries to gain control of the room once more, but his throat is dry, and he can't speak. The hybrid can't get them to be quiet until the man beside him speaks up. 

"SHUT UP," the brunette yells, and everyone closes their mouths immediately. It's only now they notice his shaken up demeanour, red and puffy eyes.

"Yeah, uh, thanks Sap," The blonde tries to contain the shake in his voice, a futile goal. "So it's about Dream, but that's obvious." Sam laughs awkwardly, clearly stalling, but Sapnap was sick of it.

"Spit it out, or I will, Warden." The brunette sneers. The role he proudly gave himself now sounding bitter. Sam audibly swallows. Just rip off the bandaid.

"Dream is dead." He states bluntly, this time not surprised when the room breaks into chaos once more. He looks through the faces in the crowd, seeing Tommy shouting furiously alongside Tubbo, who was doing the same. George was in shock, stammering out confusing words. Ghostbur and Philza were yelling at Sam (there seemed to be a theme here) while Techno shot him a glare so full of burning hatred that it shook Sams core. Puffy and Niki had tears brimming while Karl and Quackity joined the yelling. All the while, Badboyhalo stood in silence, a neutral expression on his face. The man reminded the hybrid of a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode. And explode, he did.

"What the muffin happened in that damn prison, Sam?" The demon hybrid snapped. Everyone in the room turned to the usually calm and levelheaded Badboyhalo, who now had metaphorical steam coming from his ears. Sam found his mouth shut tight, unable to respond. 

“Sam, how did this happen? You were supposed to watch over him; we even installed a security system so you could see and hear him at all times.” Right, Sam forgot that Bad was a guard there for a while. Still, Sam couldn’t open his mouth. 

“Yeah, Sam, care to respond?” Tubbo calls out, angry clear in his eyes.

“Um so, he uh,” Sam brings his eyes to his feet. “He starved to death…”

The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. No one dared break the silence as the weight of this new information set in.

A small whisper filled the air, “You’re lying; there was no chat message,” George mumbles out, dark glasses hiding his expression. “How can there be no death message.”

It was now Sapnaps turn to move, pulling something from his pocket. A communicator with a smiley face sticker on the front. He slowly walks over the George, tears brimming his eyes for the millionth time tonight. He hands the communicator to George and the older scans over it. He gasps loudly.

Dream starved to death (not delivered)

“In the cell, the communication to the outside is blocked. Meaning he can’t receive messages, nor can messages be sent out.” Sam mumbles and walks over the where George stares blankly at the device. Sam taps the up arrow on the dead man’s device, scrolling up to show all Dreams unsent pleas.

Let me out I’m sorry (not delivered)

I’m tired, but next time I sleep, I’m afraid I won’t wake up (not delivered)

can anyone see these? (not delivered).

Bad was visibly fuming after viewing the messages. He reaches out and grabs onto Sam’s shirt, glaring red eyes to green. That demon was going to kill Sam, just as the creeper hybrid killed Dream. But just as he was about to start yelling once more, a soft knocking was heard at the door to the community house.

“Um, excuse me?” A small voice called from the door. Sam and Bad stopped their scuffle, eyes turning to be greeted by a sight that made their hearts sink. In the doorway was a small boy with a green jumper and a white smiley mask. He was fiddling with his fingers nervously, looking down at his hands as he spoke, soft as honey.

“Where am I?”