#Gream is trying to remember things

[zootdeniro86]

So it was kind of funny when I entered heaven. I wasn't alone. I had 4 friends with me. The heaven's guards were in shock to see us. David even had the whiskey bottle in his hand still. We were all surprised, trying to realize what's going on. Is it all a dream that we're having together?

And then this voice came from far mountains. She sounded like Professor Minerva McGonagali, except she had an african accent. She welcomed us, and we weren't suddenly in our own clothes again. The dresses we all were wearing felt like white sheets of silk that felt cold, kind of like rainy midnights. We were bathed, and thick bloods ran off our bodies.

Now I remember, we were all in my car. Listening to highway to hell, and it was pouring. We could barely see 10 feet ahead of us. I never liked the drives back home from the bar. But somehow, once you're on alcohol, there's no 'no' in the equation. Greg thought this might be a great time to see how fast my car gets to 180mph. I didn't say no. There wasn't much traffic, but with the full stacked car, my car- Slowpoke did make it to 180mph in time, but she couldn't stop.

We all remembered the same thing at the same time, and I started laughing. So did Greg. It was funny, isn't it? Getting into heaven with whiskey? How is that not?

Anyway, Farooq and Allen weren't so happy. Farooq was pissed because he died a virgin and Allen just didn't want to die without shagging Judie Stephens. And that's when it occurred to me- "Are there regrets in heaven?"

I suddenly started missing my sister. And as I thought of her, she appeared. It felt unreal. As well as unrealistic. I knew she's still there, probably crying over our parent's divorce, having no clue how I broke 56 bones in my body. And I'm barely breathing.

After 3 days, this old boy appears. Yes, a boy. An old boy. I can't explain it, but things are different in heaven. He called me by my name. He looked sad, so he hugged me before letting me know that I had a telegram from earth. It's the greams reaper. He settled his debt with the devil, and the devil wanted me alive. God just grinned, I could sense her change in breathing. She said, "Hope to see you again, Hawking"

I lived after the accident, and all my friends died. I know where they were. The last time I saw them, they were playing a 5 teams Fifa match. Sorry, I really don't know how things work in heaven. They just do. I died after 43 years at the age of 76, living as a cripple and working on black holes. And then, as I died, I didn't hear god. She never spoke, and this time, I had no clothes on. I asked for her, but She was nowhere to be found.

[darkeninganon]

Heyo! Back at it again with Ghost Dream (Gream). He has a little weirdness happen in this chapter, mostly because my brain just yeeted off to Pluto. I don’t think I need any Trigger warnings, I mean... Tommy gets a little shaken up emotionally, but beyond that, this is a pretty safe chapter.

Gream smiled, setting up the final blocks to complete the diorama on the table. It had taken many days, but finally Gream had completed it, with the help of Tubbo, Ranboo, and Tommy. It was an exact replica of the server. Well, with a few changes. Some places had no walls, and the building in place of the prison was nothing more than an obsidian box surrounded by red and orange string. There were also the dolls, almost exact replicas of the people of the SMP.

Almost.

Tomothy had a blue sweater on, instead of whatever the real Tommy was wearing. William was grey-skinned, had no white streak, and was wearing a yellow sweater. Prezbo was wearing a classy suit, reflecting his position of power. Lethe was wearing a cloak and bandages over his eyes. Gream even made one like himself, naming it "Nightmare", it lacked a mask though. He was not about to try and figure out how to make a doll-sized mask. There were so many more as well: A centaur-like creature named "The Warden" sat on top of the prison box, a tall cloaked figure standing in a sandy area along with many other smaller ones, including a fox man; most notably was a figure in a bloody suit with crooked eyes, a pink scar slashing vertically through one, a beanie, a gold tooth, and a square smile. "Fangs", "Raev", "Sir"....

Gream shook his head, fear and dread creeping up his spine and making his stomach roll. He sighed, setting the dolls down after inspecting them. Raev was his favorite in the group; Gream had given him bright orange hair and a smile, plus a cute green-black suit. It clashed with the hair and fur, but Gream didn't mind, it was kind of cute in a way.

Gream continued to just stare at the little scene, sitting cross-legged as he took it all in. All of these characters were related, their stories tied together in some way. Gream reached over, pulling Nightmare from the little brick house he stood on and placing the doll in the cell The Warden stood on. That was where Nightmare belonged.

Gream spun to look at the door as the floor creaked, Tommy looming in the doorway, staring at the ghost.

"Hey there. Your table is finally done?" The teen asked, stepping into the room and over to the table. He wouldn't deny, it made him nervous; it was a replica of the SMP with New L'Manburg, the oldest version of the Community House, and the maximum security cell of the prison, plus Snowchester and Las Nevadas. It was like the server had been spliced between several time periods. "Looks good."

Gream looked back at the table, nodding. "Thanks. I also made the dolls." Gream motioned to them. He noticed Tommy tense, specifically when looking at the one in the prison. "That's Nightmare. He belongs in jail."

Tommy knew Dream was... quiet, to put it lightly, but he had never seen Gream do the same. "Yeah, and why's that?" he asked, sitting next to the ghost.

"He did a lot of bad things." Gream grabbed the doll, pulling it from the "jail" to look at it more.

"Well... sometimes people do bad things for a good reason-"

"That doesn't make it okay. Nightmare did a lot of bad things. He wanted to have a family... He wanted Tomothy to be his little brother, but Tomothy chose William, and William was a megalomaniacle dick to everyone, even Nightmare. But then William died and things got better." Gream placed Nightmare back in the cell. "But... William managed to convince Tomothy that Nightmare was evil, and Nightmare saw people drifting apart because he gave Prezbo a test, and Prezbo failed it." He grabbed the two dolls, holding them close. He then placed Prezbo back in the town he had built, placing Tomothy in a bare plains-like area with wooden fort-like walls around him. "Prezbo kicked Tomothy out of their home because Nightmare got mad and threatened the town. Then, Nightmare tried to... twist? Corrupt? No, neither of those words work..."

Tommy's breath hitched, and it took a moment for him to speak; "Manipulate?" His voice pitched up. Fuck, he really had to get that under control. It was such a tell.

Gream looked to Tommy, nodding solemnly. "Yeah. Nightmare tried to manipulate Tomothy into liking him. Like William had done when alive. Instead, Tomothy just hated him more." Gream picked up another doll, rolling it around. "Then, Nightmare asked for Lethe's help. A favor. Lethe needed to protect the server, but he had to forget everything unless there was actual danger. A True threat. They cast some... spell or something, and Lethe forgot." Gream placed the doll in the area that looked like Snowchester, and now Tommy could see who it looked like: Ranboo. "there is a way to reverse it, but... I don't know if Lethe knows it."

Tommy watched, listened. It was so obvious who was meant to be who. It was like Gream... Wait... "Hey, so... you said Nightmare wanted a family, right?"

"Yeah."

"So... he made everyone think he was evil... and now he's in jail, yeah?"

"That's right. Mostly. He is in jail."

"Well... did... I mean, how did he get in there?"

Tommy watched as Gream seemed to think, staying silent and still before grabbing "Nightmare" from his cell. "Well... everyone teamed up against him. But... even though he'd never see anyone again, he was happy."

"Why?"

"Because, they were finally a family." Gream placed the little doll back in the cell. His voice was soft, wistful.

Tommy nodded. "Pardon me." He stood and left, Gream nodding to show he had heard. Tommy barely made it to the stairs, clinging to the railing as he finally broke. Gream was... He wasn't just playing out his memories, he was sharing what he felt and his thoughts at the time. Dream was... Jealous? No, that didn't excuse his actions, at all! He was still worse than... But... No, he wasn't. Dream was just more physical, less mental.

Tommy took out his communicator, sending a message to Tubbo and Ranboo: We need to talk. Meet me at Snowchester. Bring the others Ranboo. Tommy grit his teeth. He couldn't let Wilbur near Gream. Wilbur would see Gream as an easy mark, and likely a way into Las Nevadas. Sure, seeing Dream's version of everyone on the SMP was unnerving, but it was even more unnerving that he has so perfectly replicated Quackity and Las Nevadas. Quackity who was likely the reason Gream even existed in the first place, and also someplace Dream had never seen. Gream probably didn't even know he had done that.

Tommy swung open the front door, hoping to meet the others right at the tunnel; nearly smacking right into Wilbur. Fuck.

"Tommy! There you are! Now, look, I know me and Quackity were a bit intense-"

"Not now Wilbur."

"Okay, but hear me out! We need so much more stone, and more importantly, we need to team up with-"

"I have more important things to worry about here."

"It'll just take a moment! We team up with Tubbo and Ranboo and let them expand into our land right by Las Nevadas, and-"

"I'll talk to you about it later, alright?"

"Alright, but real quick, We also need to come up with a plan to get Dream out of Prison-" Tommy tensed, unseen by Wilbur; "Because, you know, he has that book that brought me back. God, imagine how useful that'll be! No more death ever! We can fight for eternity and no one can stop-"

Wilbur's head was snapped to the side. Tommy had punched him. "He's not a fucking tool you can just lock up once you're done using him! What the fuck man?!" Wilbur groaned, rubbing his jaw as he slowly turned to look at Tommy, clearly wanting to say something, but too shocked to do so. "You will... never get the revive book, or the power it holds... Dream is... I hope Sam kills you again." Tommy turned away from Wilbur, storming over to the tunnel. He knew Wilbur was following silently behind, confused and desperate to say something, to get to the bottom of why Tommy just punched him.

Tommy stood by the tunnel, furious. Sure, Dream was a dick, and everything would have been solved if Dream had just talked to Tommy, but at the same time... Asking Gream more about Nightmare would shed some light. But he needed everyone else to show up first, to see what Gream was doing. Tommy tapped his foot, staring at the sky as they waited for everyone else.

Ranboo burst from the tunnel, trident in hand, panicked expression, netherite on. "What's going on?!" Someone crashed into the poor half enderman, causing him to make that distinct noise of an enderman in pain as they crashed to the ground.

"Shit! Sorry-" Phil couldn't complete his apology as the rest on the Syndicate tumbled out of the hyper tunnel, crashing into each other.

Tommy snorted, trying his hardest not to laugh as the four people untangled themselves. Ah yes, the most fearsome group on the server, couldn't navigate a hyper tunnel. Tommy lost it as Tubbo came speeding out of the tunnel with a scream, crashing into his platonic husband and causing Ranboo to let out another pained enderman noise. Something about Ranboo yelling like an enderman was just so funny to Tommy, surely he was cursing in the language of the End.

"What did you want to talk to us about, Tommy?" Niki cut in, her usually calm voice cold, snapping Tommy out of his laughing fit.

"Right, uh... Let’s walk and talk, yeah? It's a little tough to explain." Tommy lead the group to the mansion, casting a quick glare at Wilbur. "So, you all know about Gream, yeah? Of course you do, anyways, he was building and working on a table to play games with when it comes to spending time with Big Mike, since neither are really allowed to leave due to safety." Tommy glanced back, making sure everyone was following along; Techno and Wilbur looked completely lost, while Niki looked confused but was clearly listening. "So, the thing about this table, more importantly the dolls he made for the table, is that they're... well... This is going to sound really weird, but it’s everyone and everywhere on the server. You’ll see." Tommy pointed to the door, and everyone crowded around to peer into the room.

Gream sat by the table, looming over it. Even with the cursed mask on, it was clear he was concentrating hard on something. The table and dolls had his full attention. Tommy motioned for everyone to linger back, hiding just outside the door-frame; before he walked in, he let out a quiet cough to not startle Gream. The ghost looked up at the noise, spotting Tommy and nodding at the teen.

"Hey Gream. I... actually had a question for you about that uh... Nightmare character." Tommy carefully walked up to the table, pulling the doll from the cell.

"Well, ask then."

Tommy smiled nervously, fidgeting with the toy. "Well... You said he did bad things because he was angry... jealous, actually. Um, why didn't he just talk it out?" It was such a huge risk, and for all Tommy knew, this could make Gream angry and have the ghost snap like he did back at his house.

Gream was silent, perking up as if thinking about something. Finally, he sighed. "Nightmare... Nightmare can't figure out his emotions... and he doesn't like talking about them... Someone... Hurt him once, someone he loved. It’s something I understand, but... you prefer talking about things, right?"

Tommy was quiet, frozen. "What?"

"I..." Gream pulled on the edges of his mask, a puddle of acid began to form under him. "Ever since the incident with Jack and Puffy I... Tommy, you're not telling me the truth, are you? No one is!"

Tommy flinched. He could hear netherite armor being thrown on behind him, but he took a breath, relaxing as he placed the doll back in the cell. "You're right. I haven't been honest. But-" Tommy held his hand up as Gream glared at him; "But I have my reasons. Nightmare... He did bad things for a good reason... He knew he'd go into jail for it, didn't he?"

Gream was silent, thinking again before nodding.

"That's why he asked Lethe for a favor. Well... People do bad things for good reasons all the time. I'm... withholding information from you for some very good reasons. It's not just for your safety, it's also for me. The things I'm keeping from you... they're things I don't like talking about, ever." Tommy sighed, running a hand through his hair. It sucked having to try to explain it, but now... Now they'll get to see things from Dream's view... something that no one was interested in before-

"Dream died?!"

Tommy cringed as he was reminded that Wilbur was there. "Yes, Dream died. Congradu-"

Wilbur shoved Tommy out of the way, grabbing Gream's hand and shaking it vigorously. "It's amazing to meet you! You and I were such- Oh man, we had so much fun together! I was... What was the word again? Oh yeah! I was your vassal! You helped me blow-"

Tommy shoved Wilbur away. "Alright, enough! Leave the poor guy alone!" Tommy stood between Wilbur and the ghost, Gream didn't need to know that he helped destroy L’Manburg or was a traitor or anything like that. Wait... Tommy shook his head. Dream was never really on their side.

"You... I don't like you."

"I'm.... What? What do you-"

"You're a megalomaniac aren't you?" Gream crossed his arms, glaring at Wilbur from behind his mask. "You... You were... Why do I hate you?" Gream turned away, pacing around until he looked to the table. He grabbed Nightmare and William, setting them up along with Tomothy on a hill. He stared at them, gently fiddling with Nightmare as he stayed quiet.

Wilbur went to go say something, but Tommy stopped him, staring intently at the ghost.

"You could have been a good leader... But I don't want to be a good leader. I hate you so much, I'm going to be worse than ram man... I will tear this place apart because I hate you... Tomothy gave up everything and you gave up nothing, you are going to get him killed..."

Gream removed Tomothy, setting him up with Prezbo on top of an obsidian wall. "Can't we all just be a family... No, you're the bad guy... but why?" Gream stopped, picking up Nightmare and holding him close. "But why?"

[eene-fangirl]

Ed, Edd n Eddy Jingle Jingle Jangle Novelization Chapter 1

NOTE: So, I didn’t get to finish the eene Halloween novelization of the episode but I plan to try and finish this one. Hope you enjoy it!

“Eddy, your dad and I are leaving!” Eddy’s mom hollered up the stairs. “We’ll be home late and we’ll pick you up at Ed’s. Be good.”

Eddy’s parents got in their car on the snowy Christmas Eve night. Eddy’s father started the car and waited for the engine to warm up. He turned to look at his wife who stared somberly out the window.

“What’s wrong?”

“I feel like we should tell him where we’re really going,” she said.

Eddy’s father sighed. “Honey, this has been a hard decision as it is. We don’t need Eddy to see how he really is, yet.”

She reluctantly nodded her head and they went off through the snowy neighborhood.

And now that his parents were gone it was a perfect time for Eddy to scout out his presents.

The pre-teen ran from room to room, and down the halls shining his flashlight every which way. He couldn’t believe his parents trusted him when he promised not to look through his presents. What saps! Didn’t they remember the last few years?

Eddy did find their leaving odd seeing how his mom made holidays strictly family togetherness a tradition. But, who cares. And and house full of presents were left home alone together!

He opened the door to the attic. There were bundles of stuff up here. When were his parents going to sell this junk?

Eddy froze when he heard a squeak in the floorboards.

“Jackpot!” Eddy announced when he found the parcels.

Slowly, Eddy sliped the present out from its ribbons, pealed off the table without anyone knowing it was once there, and carefully kept the wrapping paper shaped as a box.

Where would he be without Bro?

Eddy could feel his mouth salivating when he opened up the box. Maybe it was cash, or keys to a new car, or…

… a sweater.

Eddy blew a raspberry and dove into another present.

“A dickie? They still make these?” Eddy announced in disbelief.

There were reindeer socks, underwear, and onsie pajamas?!

Eddy’s mouth foamed in rage. “I hate getting clothes for Christmas!” he bellowed.

He threw all his new clothes around the room knocking things about. The flashlight he was carrying fell to the floor. It’s shine reflected through two mirrors sending a remarkable glow into the night sky.

If anyone were outside at this time they’d notice a bright greaming star.

“You’re next, Marie.” Lee said to her sister.

��Hurry up, maybe you’ll get a paper crown!”

Marie pointed te cracker right in her sisters face. “Of course I’ll get a paper crown. They all come with paper crowns, stupid.”

She released the ends, but nothing happened. “It’s a dud, Marie.” May announced at the sullen cracker on the floor.

But, the cracker was merely slow and exploded in May’s face.

“Look, Lee, May got a makeover!” Marie playfully taunted.

The girls laughed with one another in their quiet trailer park home. Their mother was gone for the evening, having to work late. Each daughter was thankful to their mother who worked two jobs andcared for all three of them at the same time. They may not have a lot of money, but they were family. The girls couldn’t wait for tomorrow because their mother was able to spend the whole day with them.

“Do you see what I see?” May announced pointing out the window. “Something twinkling in the sky!”

The girls fought over a spot for the window until Lee beat them to it.

It was the beautiful star in the sky.

“Oh yeah, I see it! Bundle up, girls. Let’s see what the hubbub’s all about.”

And the Kankers walked out into the cold night dressed in either blankets or light jackets. This star could be the sign that their mother was talking about. The family needed a Christmas miracle.

[darkeninganon]

I very much blame @warped-m0ss for this chapter of Gream’s story. They have a great series of headcannons concerning Dream, Fundy, and Yogurt, and my brain said “MMM, YES, THE ANGST IS GOOD. ADD IT TO THIS STORY” and I had no choice.

No real major Trigger warnings aside from: Mentions of death/killing, some cursing.

This chapter is pretty damn fluffy if I do say so myself.

Gream stared at the circular disk. Tommy had explained that the two of them had a falling out over these disks. Gream really wished he could remember what had happened. Why did Tommy care so much about these disks? What sentiments were tied to them? What memories?

“Are… I have no memories of these disks, you sure you want to give it to me?”

“Yeah. It’s… I know you don’t have any memories, but maybe we can make new ones. Better ones!”

“Better?” Gream tilted his head towards Tommy. “How bad was this falling out?”

Tommy laughed nervously, “Pretty bad.” Tommy then seemed to be struck by something, and grabbed another item from his enderchest. “And this. This is the hide of Spirit, your horse from when you were alive. You deserve to have him back.”

Gream took the roll of leather from the teen, staring at it. Short, sleek white fur covered one side, glistening like the animal it once belonged to was loved beyond compare.

“What do you mean he died?!”

“There were so many mobs! I’m sorry Dream!”

“I don’t give a fuck about Spirit!”

“Dream, don’t swear please.”

Gream shook his head, willing the memory away. He stared in confusion at the leather hide. “Uh… T-Tommy…”

Tommy had wandered off to play with Michael, stopping his duel with the child to look towards Gream. “Yeah? What’s up big man?”

“Uh… our falling out, did I… Did I say I didn’t care about Spirit?”

Tommy was silent for a few moments before suddenly snapping towards Michael. “Hey buddy, why don’t you go play with that diorama Gream set up?” The little piglin honked, wandering off to the room in question. Once he was out, Tommy turned fully towards Gream to speak; “Yeah. You… I may have threatened to burn it, and… we were all an emotional mess at the time. It’s not something that was very fun. I want to make things right though, after everything.” Tommy turned away again, rubbing his arm as he continued; “It’s… I know it’s a little late, because you’re dead and have no memories anymore, but… I’m sorry.”

Gream stared, a slow smile creeping across his face. He silently went to the enderchest, opening it to find it empty, and put the disk and leather inside. He closed it, turning to look at Tommy. “It’s okay. You’re trying now, and hey, better late than never!”

Tommy smiled, happy that Gream didn’t hate him for what had happened in the past, even if he eventually remembered.

Then there was a commotion at the entrance area.

Gream stood back, letting Tommy pass before following after him, curious what had happened. Ranboo and Tubbo were yelling, threatening someone. Gream could faintly hear Phil trying to talk to them, speaking calmly and attempting to persuade the over-protective duo to relax.

“He threatened to kill Michael!”

“He’s not here for Michael, he’s here for- “

Gream and Tommy rounded the final corner, Gream’s eyes widening as he spotted the fox guy from before. “YOU!” Everyone froze as Gream yelled, floating over to the familiar fox boy. “I know you! You were here earlier! You saw me and didn’t rat me out! Thanks!” Gream hugged the startled fox man, his bright orange tail fluffed up even more than normal and ears back.

Fundy looked to the teens and Phil, all four staring at him with a mix of anger and confusion.

“You were here earlier?” Tubbo raised an eyebrow and his axe, ready to hurt him if need be.

“We didn’t do anything. We-”

“Excuse me, “We”? Fundy, who else was with you?!” Ranboo now spoke up, axe in one hand, shield in the other, ready to kill if needed.

“Purpled, Me, and Foolish, we were sent-”

“Wait, I have a question: Are we still married, or are we no longer together because I’m dead?”

“Uh… I’m sorry, what?” Fundy pushed Gream away slightly, curious what was going on. “You… got bigger? You were like, the size of one of those figurines earlier.” Fundy looked to the teens “What is going on?”

Gream laughed, letting go of Fundy- Fundy, what a lovable name! – to speak without being too close. “That happens, I shrink and grow depending on something. Haven’t quite figured out what though! I also sometimes drip acid, but rarely! In all seriousness though, are we still married?”

Fundy opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, looking between Gream and the teens before locking eyes with Phil “Granpapa, what is going on?!”

Phil sighed, fluffing his wings as he got his thoughts in order. “Well, to put it simply, Dream died and… This is Gream.”

Fundy was silent, ears twitching. “So… It’s like Wilbur and Ghostbur?”

“Yep. Just like what happened to your dad.”

Fundy was silent, seemingly thinking. “Then… why doesn’t he remember what happened at the wedding?”

“Oh I do!” Gream chirped, excitedly floating over to stand by Fundy. “George kissed me and we all freaked out. I can assure you, he’s not my friend now. I hope he’s miserable! I mean, sure, the preachers say “If you have any objections for why these two should not be wed, speak now” but seriously? A kiss is not an actual, understandable objection! So what if he had feelings? He didn’t act fast enough and it was our wedding day, what did he think was going to happen? I mean, I think my ring got taken away by the guy with the golden tooth, since I don’t have it as a ghost, but still. Again, does it count even though I’m dead?”

Fundy was silent, but everyone could see the wheels turning in his head. “Uh… I’m sorry, your what?”

“My ring.” Gream held up both his hands, wiggling his fingers to indicate the missing ring he spoke of.

“Oh… OH, uh, well…” Fundy was silent, wheels still turning in his head as he slowly got his thoughts in order. “well… I mean, you’re not really Dream, you’re Gream. I married Dream, so I don’t think it counts.” Gream’s smile fell, his heart sinking. “But… You know what? Maybe I can come up with a better date this time!”

Gream stared at Fundy “What?”

“Gream, would you like to go on a date with me?” Fundy bowed, taking his hat off, his tail gracefully curling around his legs.

“Aw, what the fuck?! There are children here!” Tommy yelled, covering his eyes and leaving.

Tubbo and Ranboo were staring in surprise, eyes sparkling. Phil was laughing, not in a mocking sense, but in real mirth.

“Uh… Oh, yeah! Sure! Um… What time?” Gream’s face grew bright. He felt super giddy, clapping his closed hands together in excitement.

Fundy stood, putting his hat back on, smiling brightly. “How about Tomorrow? I know an awesome place to go that not many people know about! I’m sure you’ll like it.”

“Yeah! It sounds like fun.” Gream stated, still happily fidgeting around. He was smiling wide like a fool, already trying to think about what Fundy could possibly have planned. What did they even do the first time? Was it something simple, or something extravagant? Gream hoped he could remember, maybe he’d dream about it tonight! He hoped so. “Oh, by the way, uh, do you know anyone with a gold tooth?”

Fundy frowned, ears back. “Uh… yeah. Why?” He could faintly see Phil, Tubbo, and Ranboo shaking their heads, clearly motioning for Fundy to not continue. “Did… he do something?” Fundy could see everyone else wince, cringing.

“He… killed me… I think.”

Fundy’s heart dropped; “What?” His voice cracked, then he thought about it. Gream had poor memory, apparently, that much was clear from this interaction alone, but Dream had really good memory, and there was no reason why Dream should have lost his memory upon death, especially since he was in prison and-

Dream was in prison.

Dream shouldn’t be dead.

“I… I have to go do something, you reminded me about it! Sorry to leave so suddenly, I look forward to seeing you tomorrow!” Fundy kissed Gream on the cheek, holding onto his hat as he ran as fast as he could. Fundy clawed his way to the main road, running along it all the way to Las Nevadas. He ran to where Yogurt was, picking up the fox hybrid child.

“Dad! Welcome back! Where are we going?”

“Away from here. We’re… we’re moving back to where daddy’s home used to be. It’s close enough, but…” Fundy ran, running back to his tower. The base he built for himself. He’d need to build a better home for him, Yogurt, and Gream; but the tower would work for the two of them for now. “Yogurt, I don’t want you hanging out with Quackity anymore, okay?” Fundy forced his child to look at him, their eyes wide and tail lazily swaying.

“Okay, but why?”

“Quackity did a very, very bad thing to someone daddy loves very much.”

“Did Mr.Q hurt mommy?”

Fundy cringed, only to stop dead in his tracks. He remembered the day he got Yogurt. Sam had brought the tiny fox hybrid child to Fundy, claiming he had found the little thing all alone and figured Fundy would be able to help more than him. Fundy looked at Yogurt, all too familiar green eyes staring back at him, slightly curly hair that was also familiar yet far too different when compared to Fundy and Wilbur. Fundy had accepted long ago that Sam lied about finding yogurt, recognizing his own child as soon as they could speak, but now he realized just how much Sam had lied.

[darkeninganon]

Jesus on a candlestick in a desert I’ve had this chapter sitting in my folder for weeks because I keep FORGETTING TO POST IT LIKE A FOOL.

Anyways, more Gream (Ghost Dream). This chapter is pretty tame, but Trigger Warnings for: Talk of amputation, Talk of death, implied/mentioned (fatal) vore, and implied/mentioned digestion. Read at your own risk.

Sam huffed, pacing around the entrance to Pandora, smoke and a quiet hissing floating from his mask. This wasn't enough. Sam looked around, gritting his teeth. With a deep breath he concentrated, lower body shifting into a four-legged form. Sam sighed in relief, trotting around the entrance area. Very few people knew he could do this, mainly just Ponk and Dream. Dream hated the form, mocking Sam as he "pranced" around the prison. Ponk had liked the soft, fluffy, green fur that covered his legs, plus it came in handy when Ponk was tired of walking.

Quackity was late. Of course. Sam really should have realized this would happen. The visits had stopped abruptly; then he saw "Gream"; and he had yet to see Quackity, having to leave several notes and messages before even hearing a response. Sam grumbled, digging a leg into the dirt right outside the entrance as his frustration grew. And the response? "Meet me at the entrance". That was it. That was all Quackity had to say after multiple messages of "We need to talk", "There is a problem", and "Hurry up and talk to me". Sam was just about at his wit's end.

"Sam?"

The warden stopped, freezing on the spot at the familiar voice... The smoke faded from his mask, and the hissing quieted to a dull buzz. "Hi Ponk." Sam didn't turn. He couldn't. Ever since Ponk had stolen the key cards and tried to break in, and Sam had punished him-

Sam's mind froze at that.

He... He loved Ponk, didn't he? Yeah, he did. Yet he had stolen one of Ponk's lives... and... Finally, Sam turned to look at Ponk, eyes locking on the empty spot where an arm was supposed to be. Tommy, Tubbo, and even Ranboo were protective of Gream, and it finally clicked why. Sam approached Ponk, the masked man backing away, glancing away as the creeper-hybrid came closer.

"S-Sammy? You okay? I know you... have been having a rough time, but I-"

"What do you want your arm to look like?"

The silence was deafening. "What?"

Sam pointed to where Ponk's arm should have been. "Your arm. I know you wanted to... wanted me to give you your arm back, and that I can't but... maybe I can make you an arm?" Sam muttered, picking at the edge of his mask. It was a bad habit he had when nervous.

Ponk chuckled, stuttering out a nervous reply "Well... I mean, I'd want it to be really cool. Like, really, really cool. Nothing creeper-related though, alright?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, of course. How about..." Sam took a deep breath, trying to not let his anger show; "How about something emerald related?"

"Yeah! I'm sure Foolish would love that!" Ponk said in pure excitement.

Sam cringed, unseen behind the gas mask. "I'm sure he would." By Prime, it sounded so forced, even to him.

"Alright! Bye Sam~!" Ponk ran off, snickering to himself and talking to the sentient lemons he apparently saw.

Sam thought that was... interesting. Everyone talked about a thing called "chat", but to each person it manifested in a different way. For Sam it was little creepers, Ponk had lemons, Foolish had these things called "Dozers"; and then there were those whose chats had no physical form; Like Dream, Techno, Tommy, and Quackity. For Quackity, his chat seemed to just be things or voices he heard calling to him from... somewhere below ground. Tommy said his chat spoke to him through other people, their cries falling from another's mouth when that person was talking to Tommy. Techno apparently had voices in his head that were his chat. And Dream... What did dream say his chat was?

Sam tapped a foot, unable to remember. Something about the sky, night, and the stars. Oh, right... Dream's chat spoke to him like the stars would, flickering in and out and silent when unable to see him. Some poetic shit like that. Sam really wasn’t paying attention to it.

“Sam! What do you want now?”

The warden jerked to attention, head snapping to face Quackity as the other man called to him. “Right, so… did you know Dream died?”

Quackity smiled, unable to hide his joy. “Yeah, I… May have been a little too harsh on him during my last visit. Accidents happen, you know?” He laughed, trying to sound embarrassed and nervous.

“Well, he came back.”

Quackity paused, looking at Sam. “What? What do you mean…”

“Dream came back… as a ghost. Calls himself “Gream” now. He’s hanging out in Snowchester.”

Quackity stared at Sam, mind contorting with thoughts and scenarios that could lead to Dream living with Tubbo. It didn’t make sense, clearly the former prisoner had threatened Tubbo into letting him stay. “Are you fucking serious?” Quackity hissed, asking himself more than Sam.

“Yeah. And he apparently has some powers-”

“Idiot ruins my stomach and has the gall to come back, fucking bullshit.”

Sam perked up. “What did you just say?”

“Nothing, talking to myself, anyways, he has powers?” Quackity asked, speaking louder, unaware Sam had heard his muttering.

“He… He emits a slimy… acid almost. Like… it’s pretty dang strong. It eats through wood, metal, and… I don’t even know what else! He also… might be able to turn invisible. Don’t quote me on that. Either way,he’s protected by Tubbo, Tommy, and Ranboo-”

“Ranboo? Fucking Ranboo is protecting him?!”

“Yeah? Quackity what happened-”

Quackity turned to leave, baring his teeth in rage as he stormed back towards Las Nevadas. “I should have tested on that stupid Ender-freak. First he turns out to be a traitor, then he doesn’t fight, then he marries Tubbo and has a kid! That’s- UGH! He has got to go, he’s caused enough harm.” Quackity stopped, staring at the Las Nevadas sign. He still remembered that night.

After he had eaten Dream, the prisoner was still for a while, at least until Quackity left the prison. Then he started screaming and punching and kicking. But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was after the death message had shown up. Quackity’s stomach had practically roared in disapproval, and he nearly got sick. He did get a little sick. Turns out clothes aren’t digestible and tiny clothes are hell on the human gut.

Quackity shook his head. He didn’t need to dwell on the past. All that mattered was what he was going to do now. He needed to get “Gream” away from Tubbo, and possibly take care of Ranboo. The leader of Las Nevadas stormed to the needle, stepping into the “secret” room, and sticking a lever into the wall, opening the actual secret room.

“Hello, Quackity from Las Nevadas!”

“Hi Charlie. Do you know where the shrinking potions are?” He asked, walking past the slime man. “We need them again. Something came up.”

“Oh yes! They are inside me, along with my bones! I did that to keep them safe!” Quackity spun around in time to see the slime man open his chest, two femur bones sticking out with glass bottles of potions between the bones. “See? This is something all humans can do. They are stored in my stomach. For safety. Like you did with Dream!” Charlie took the potions out, handing them to Quackity. “It is a shame he is bad at staying alive!”

Quackity stared at the potions, nodding absently as he thought about it. Charlie didn’t need to know the true purpose of the visits or why Quackity wanted to make a shrinking potion. “Yeah, really sucks. But hey…” Quackity looked up at Charlie, smiling, “What happened in the past is in the past. We can’t change it now. Either way, be on guard, we might have some… really bad people trying to come into Las Nevadas soon.”

"I understand! I'll make sure that they learn that the house always wins!" Charlie saluted, practically bouncing in place. He was bouncing in place. Quackity found it adorable and nodded.

"Thanks, good to know I can always count on you buddy." Quackity left the room, leaving Las Nevadas. He had to find this... ghost Dream.

[darkeninganon]

Gream angst! So, nails are cannon (you know, those thing you use to build), as well as other construction items. Mama Puffy helps though. Trigger warnings: Slight blood, implied torture, panic attack/response, cursing. Read at your own risk!

Puffy smiled, carefully petting the little ghost. He had gotten surprised by a creeper dropping between them as she was gathering wood, and had shrunk. She thought he had exploded, and nearly burst into tear again, only for him to swing into her line of sight while clinging to her bangs. Now, he had tangled himself in her wool-like hair, seemingly unbothered by how small he currently was and just enjoying the ride. He was completely different from how he was like when he was alive. With a sigh, she finally reached the mansion in Snowchester, climbing the winding stairs to get back to work on the table he was building.

"Oh, by the way, do have obsidian? I need it for the table. And a nether portal for Snowchester." He stated, pulling a strand between his hands as if it was a rope he was inspecting.

Puffy snickered, gently de-tangling him from the curly strands and holding him to her face. "Yeah, but not here. Let's get the actual table done first though, okay?" Dream- Gream - nodded. She still found the name change... interesting. It wasn't subtle at all that he was related to Dream, but people might think he's a dead relative or something... once the mask was gone. If he ever got rid of it. She was sure she could convince him to give it up eventually.

She set Gream down gently, letting him hop off her hand and onto the ground, carefully sitting down next to him. She then brought out her tools, setting each item down in front of her. Gream watched, staring at the hammer, pliers, scrapers, nails...

"Just give me the book!"

"I can- No. It's been what? Two weeks, and I haven't given anything up. Just give up!"

The man paced, a smile splitting across his face, golden tooth glistening from the lava. He leaned against the netherite blocks, the Warden had gotten into the habit of putting the barrier back up after Dream had tried to jump into the lava. The man turned back around, hammer swinging lazily. "Let's give this a try, yeah?"

"No... Sam! Stop, just leave!"

"Dream?"

"Leave me alone already, you can't have the book!"

"Gream!"

The little ghost gasped, snapping back to the real world. Puffy was standing back, holding Michael and Michelle off the ground; Tubbo, Tommy, and Ranboo were also off, standing in the doorway with Tubbo and Ranboo holding back Tommy, who was leaning into the doorway, stretching out over...

Shit. The whole room was slowly filling with acid. Gream hugged himself, sitting in the middle of the growing puddle. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. It's not my fault..."

"Gream, Gream we know, we know Gream!" Tommy tried to calm the ghost down. He hated when things like this happened. When Gream remembered...Something he'd either shrink, fill the space with acid, or do both. It really was getting tiring, and Tommy was too young to know how the hell to calm down a crazy ghost... who happened to be the ghost of his most hated enemy. Seriously, this had started out as him wanting to get revenge, but that was kind of hard when Gream kept freaking out over minor things.

Puffy set Michael and Michelle down on a shelf, stepping into the growing pool of acid. Tommy saw her cringe as it hit her hooves, a couple of bubbles slowly forming. He was suddenly pulled back, out of the doorway. "OW! What the-" Tubbo pointed down. The acid was slowly making its way out of the room. Shit, they had to do something fast. Puffy carefully walked over to the absolutely tiny ghost, doing her best to hid how much it hurt. Tommy couldn't even imagine. He'd dealt with lava and drowning and fire, he was not about to learn what slimy acid felt like.

"Gream? Sweetie? Can you hear me?" Puffy called out, trying not to loom over him. Gream looked up, only to suddenly look back down, curling into himself. Puffy sucked in a breath, scooping him up in her bare hands. The teens cringed as they saw the acid fill her hand and slowly drip over the edge. "G-Gream? It's me, Puffy. You're... mom? Sweetie? Please talk to me." Gream slowly uncurled, looking up at her from her hands. "What... What's wrong? You can tell me anything." Her smile betrayed her feelings, awkward and unnatural, tears threatening to fall from pain.

Gream looked to his feet, pulling his knees closer to his chest. "The man... I... There's a book... I don't know..." His small fists tangled in his hair, curling back in on himself. "I don't even know... It was a book... Just some book."

A realization came to Puffy at that moment, ears falling flat against her head. A small, strangled noise came from her, the tears finally falling. He died because of the revive book. Her duckling died because he refused to give up the revive book... The only response he was even kept alive in the first place. Her gaze slowly turned to the teens, locking onto Tommy. "You... You..." She couldn't blame Tommy for this, he had nothing to do with her duckling dying, and her duckling had hurt Tommy so much, it would be justice and revenge and it wouldn't be over the revive book. Especially since Wilbur was already back. Tommy stared in horror, the same realization coming to him as Gream spoke. Just who even wanted-

"Sam." The Warden's name felt like venom on Tommy's tongue. Sam, the Warden, knew who had done this. He had let someone visit Dream - Tommy knew this, but it never really hit him until now - after Tommy had died by Dream's hands. After Dream confirmed the book worked on humans. Someone had visited Dream in an effort to get the book, and knowing how Gream acted...

Tommy stormed out of the mansion. He needed to talk to Sam.

Puffy stared after Tommy, confused what was going on i the teen's head. She shook her head, she had to focus on Gream right now. "It's okay. You don't have to remember the book. Clearly it was important... too important to fall into the wrong hands." Puffy sniffled, carefully wiping the tears away so as to not burn her face. "Mommy is so proud of you. You protected everyone sweetie."

Gream looked up, relaxing slowly. "Really? You mean it?"

Puffy nodded. "Yes! You're so brave, and strong. You're my brave little duckling." She held her hands close the her face, closing her eyes as Gream slowly stood up. She felt him hug and nuzzle against her nose, the acid stopping, seemingly evaporating. Magic acid, who would have thought? Puffy opened her eyes again, just barely able to see Gream pressing himself into the short fur that covered her body. She watched him pull away, looking at her hands and hooves. Her palms were red and blistered, clearly irritated and very sensitive, even his little feet felt like burning iron. Her hooves were cracked and breaking, the fragile skin underneath the nail-like material exposed in some spots and bleeding.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to-"

"Shhh, it's okay." Puffy smiled, gently petting her duckling. "I know you didn't mean yo, I know you have something going on in that head of yours. I know it hurts you as well." She removed her hand from his head, carefully maneuvering a finger under his chin so he would look up. "Parents... we are supposed to love our children no matter how much they hurt us..." She took a shuddering breath. "I... I wasn't there, when you needed me... I thought about helping you... but then I turned my back on you." Puffy's voice cracked. Her duckling, who had caused so much pain, suffering, and harm to others had been hurt so badly; and instead of doing the responsible adult thing and visiting him, talking to him, letting him know she cared, she had let him rot in that cell. "If anyone should be apologizing, it should be me!"

She held him close to her chest, falling to her knees as she finally broke down again. Puffy wouldn't let anyone take her duckling to jail ever again. She finally had him back, and she wasn't going to lose him.

[darkeninganon]

Ah, more Gream (Ghost Dream). He’s hanging out and trying to remember stuff! Trigger warnings for: implied trauma, implied death, implied torture, triggering oneself (Gream trying to remember what happened), minor cursing. Read at your own risk!

Gream smiled, tossing the small emerald around. Today was going to be a good day, he could feel it. Tommy and Tubbo had agreed to let him wander around Snowchester, but told him he had to stay inside the walls. That was fine. He had asked, obviously, and then learned Ranboo had told them about... The Warden. A shudder ran through him. The ghost paused for a moment to recover, before resuming his pacing and throwing of his little emerald. When the two teens had learned about that visit they both got nervous and started talking in hushed voices, whispering something to each other while looking at Gream to see if he could hear. He didn't care to listen, whatever secrets they had he was fine with, they'd protect him... right?

Another shudder ran through him. Okay, no, he couldn't think in questions. Tommy and Tubbo would protect him, and so would Ranboo. The three teens were so nice to him, and apparently they had been friends before he... before whatever happened to him happened. Gream still wasn't clear about that. Shaking his head, the ghost left his room and headed out of the mansion, kicking up snow as he explored the tiny country.

Country. For some reason, that word in particular left a bitter taste in his mouth. Probably left over from seeing whatever happened in L'manburg. He really needs to ask someone about that. He was a citizen there, right? Or, maybe he lived somewhere else and was just friends with the people that lived there? Surely he fought against the monster with his friends to protect their home, even if he didn't live there.

"Maybe I didn't fight... Maybe I was already gone or captured by that time..." Gream hummed, crossing his arms and staring intently at the ground as he tried to think. What did he remember before he died? He remembered...

"hey there Dream! You ready to give me what I want?"

"Just... Stay over there! I'm not..."

"Okay, you're doing this again?"

"No! No, no, no, no! I...I just- I'll die if you keep this up! You don't have to visit! Please!"

"Ew. God, you're as gross as a bug now."

"Sam... won't let you- Sam! Sam please! ---------'s going to kill me! SAM!"

"Holy shit! You're so fragile like this!"

"Oh Dream, I said I wouldn't visit anymore... Well, I can't visit if I never leave!"

"You... You're a monster..."

"Look who's talking! A monster calling me a monster! Oh you have no idea."

"Please! Please stop! Please... Just leave me alone... Please."

Gream gasped, falling back. He sat in the snow, hyperventilating. When had he closed his eyes? Why couldn't he remember that guy's name? Why did he call out for the Warden? What did he know that that the man with the gold tooth wanted to know?

The ghost looked down, snow melted away exposing dead, dry grass turned slimy and foaming from acid. He needed to calm down. He couldn't keep burning things from getting mildly frightened.

"Dream?!"

The ghost froze. No... no, no, no, no. This could not be happening. Gream turned, slowly, terrified of the voice calling out for him. Gream stared at the masked face of the Warden. "S-S-Sam?" his voice cracked, the puddle of melted, acidic snow around him growing.

The Warden stayed still for a moment, as if surprised by Gream's presences. The Warden seemed to suddenly snap out of it, shoulders squaring as he strode towards the ghost.

Gream ran.

"Tommy! Tommy! Sam's back!" Gream could hear the Warden running after him, chasing him into the mansion as the ghost called out for his friends. "Tubbo! Help! Ranboo! Someone!" Gream slipped on the floor as he took a turn, hoping to lose the Warden in the maze-like house. "Stay away from me!"

"You're going back to the prison! I don't care that you're a ghost!" Sam yelled, managing to stay upright as he chased the prisoner. Supposed to be prisoner. He was gaining too, almost able to reach out and grab Dream...

Until an arrow hit him in the leg. It wasn't enough to prevent him from running, but it did make him stumble. Sam spun around, taking out his axe, ready to kill whoever had just stopped him from re-capturing his only prisoner. "Tommy?" His axe fell as he was confronted with the Tommy and Tubbo, the latter holding a loaded crossbow while the former held a bow.

"Get out Sam."

"Tommy you're... why are you protecting..."

An axe suddenly slammed into the ground right next to Sam, shocking him enough to make him stumble. A static noise filled the space, and Sam had barely enough time to block with his shield as the axe swung again. Ranboo glared at him from the opposite side of the Warden's shield, particles buzzing about as Ranboo glared, looking more like an enderman than his normal self. "Get. Out." Ranboo growled. Literally growled. It barely sounded like English. Sam shoved the teen, bolting out of the house and through the tunnel.

He had to tell Quackity... fuck it, he had to tell the whole server. Dream was a ghost, and pretending to be like Ghostbur to stay close to Tommy, manipulate him and kill him over and over again; and possibly hurt Tubbo and Ranboo, all just for the fun of it. The server needed to be warned.

Ranboo glared at where Sam had been. He was still pissed. His dear, sweet, easily spooked particles buzzing around in agitation. Shared agitation. Tubbo came over, placing a hand on his cheek.

"Relax big man. Everything is okay now."

Slowly, very, very slowly his anger faded. His mouth seemed to vanish as he nuzzled against his platonic husband's hand, static fading to a gentle purr as the little purple particles wove between the two, cooing in a language only Ranboo could understand.

Gream watched, approaching the teens slowly. He watched the little particles floating between Tubbo and Ranboo, each one moving freely around the duo. As he got closer, they all seemed to take up a defensive stance between him and Ranboo. At least, most did. Some floated over to him, circling around his head.

"Is this a trick?"

"Surely he's manipulating our beloved!"

"I don't trust this."

"Poor, poor little ghost."

"You monster."

Gream grabbed one, the rest scattering back to Ranbbo. The half enderman perked up, looking toward the ghost. Gream cupped the little thing in his hands, staring at it.

"I'm not scared. Ranboo and Tubbo can be scary."

"Yeah... I suppose all three of them can..."

"Wait..." The little particle floated up from his hand, weaving around him as it spoke "you can understand us? Well, that makes sense. Too bad you have no memories."

"Why is that bad?" Gream asked, following the little thing with his gaze. The little thing stopped, as if it had just been pacing and was only now facing Gream.

"Because... We all have questions that only Dream can answer."

[darkeninganon]

Ha, more Gream (Ghost Dream). Ranboo is weak to smol things. Want proof? Tubbo and Michael.

Gream stared out the window. His room was looking out over a grave. Tommy's grave. It was... something that made him feel strangely bitter. Like, he felt like he should be happy, but wasn't actually happy. Staring at the grave made him want to laugh and spin and cheer; but yell and scream and cry at the same time. Gream huffed, flopping onto his bed. It was green, like his curtains, rug, and anything else he could make green in his room. Ranboo had kicked up a storm about how weird it would look and that it wasn't a good idea, especially the window, but Tommy and Tubbo had talked him into accepting the changes.

Well, accepting wasn't really the right word, he still refused to accept the green room, but he didn't do anything other than glare at the door or window when he passed it. At least... Gream thought he was glaring. It was hard to tell because he had no eyelids.

Gream shuddered at that. Ranboo produced tears, and didn't need to blink in order to keep his eyes moist, but his tears hurt him when he cried. The guy was a disaster and probably shouldn't even exist, yet he still did. The ghost tried to avoid the half enderman as best as he could, but wanted to speak to him about... something.

With a sigh, Gream left the comfort of his bed, leaving his room to wander the mansion. Ever since that siren had sounded, the two teens told Gream he legitimately couldn't leave the mansion, or else the man with the gold tooth might find him and... and...

Gream shook his head, acid burning at the wood beneath his feet. "Oh, oh no. Not good, not good!" The ghost looked around, desperate to find a chest filled with spruce wood to replace the slowly eroding material.

"You thinking about what Tommy and Tubbo told you?"

Gream spun around, Ranboo standing there with a baby zombie piglin clinging to his pant leg. Ranboo looked... bored? Angry? "I'm... I'm sorry, I'll replace it! I just need to find-" Ranboo sighed, shaking his head. "I'm sorry..." Gream muttered, pulling his feet up to float noticably off the ground.

"It's fine. Just... keep an eye out for Michael." Ranboo huffed, picking up the little piglin. "Yes! That's right, we need to be careful with you." Ranboo cooed, nuzzling his child.

Gream just watched, surprised at how different the half enderman was acting. "you... Yeah. I'll be super careful." The ghost stated, lowering his legs back down to appear as if he were walking. He floated over to the two, smiling behind his mask. "hey there Michael. You... You need to stay away from me, okay?" Michael let out a little snort, "are you the monster? You have a mask like the monster." Michael then took out a wooden sword...

And smacked Gream with it.

"Ow! I didn't- I mean... I'm sorry?!" Gream looked between Ranboo and Michael, confused what he had done to be hit over the head.

Ranboo rolled his eyes, taking hold of the toy sword. "He's not the monster Michael. Good effort though. Yes! Such a good effort!" Ranboo resumed nuzzling him again, earning a laugh from the piglin. Ranboo stopped for a moment, looking to Gream.

The ghost stared back at the half enderman, literally shrinking under his unbreaking gaze. "So, um... Where is the-"

"Take some emerald blocks from the chest near the front, and trade with one of the villagers. One should have spruce planks to make into slabs." Ranboo turned and left, leaving the now small ghost to float and find his way to the trading center inside the house.

Gream sighed, floating towards the front of the house to look for the chest. Ranboo's directions weren't the best as there were at least five or six chests near the front, and Gream had no idea what was in which chest. He'd never bothered to look before.

"You're sure you haven't seen anything?"

That voice. Gream froze, listening in to the muffle conversation.

"You an Tubbo built your house close to the prison. If he was going to look anywhere for supplies, he'd probably look here."

That voice sent chills down his spine, making him want to shrink down to his smallest size and hide inside the chest. The chest lid dropped from his grasp, slamming shut loudly. He had shrunk to his smallest size. He really needed to learn to control his abilities.

"What was that?"

Gream ducked behind the chest, clamping his hands over his mouth to stay quiet. The voice couldn't find him here... he'd be in deep trouble... his food would be taken away, his bed, his flags, his books, he'd be taken away to someplace terrible.

"Probably just Michael." Ranboo. Ranboo was... lying to that voice? Was Ranboo insane?!

"Since when could zombie piglins open and close chests?"

Silence followed. Heavy and tense. Neither person was backing down. Even from his hiding place, Gream could imagine Ranboo glaring at whoever had that voice. The Warden. That's the name that came to mind with that voice. That cruel, cold, heartless, paranoid voice.

"What? You think I'd let Dream stay here? You'd think I'd be that dumb?" Ranboo hissed after the silence. Ranboo... was he working with the man with the golden tooth? Was this... Warden guy one of his goons? Gream shook his head, tangling his hands in his hair. He wanted to remember... he needed to remember.

"You two had a secret conversation, and when I asked you about it you didn't remember. Then you come crawling to me, demanding to be let in-"

"I said to put me in the prison. As an inmate. But you said I was a good person!"

"Are you saying this wouldn't have happened if I locked you up?!"

"Maybe! I don't know at all! I don't know where Dream is, and even if I did I wouldn't be able to tell you! Just like how I can't tell you that I b-" Ranboo's voice suddenly died. He growled, a static noise coming from deep within his throat. It stopped, somewhat, lessening to background static; "Put your sword away. I'm not going to attack you. I have better control than that."

"What the hell kind of noise was that?!"

"The kind of noise I make when someone attacks me!" Gream could hear the Warden backing down now, thrown off by Ranboo's suddenly inhuman noises. It made sense though, Ranboo was half enderman. "You come into my house, accuse me of harboring a fugitive, who you know would kill my husband if given the chance, and you call into question if I had anything to do with it when you know I have a terrible memory and apparently was a traitor! Yes! I'm angered! Now get the hell off of my property."

Silence followed. Gream peered over the top of the chest, finally spotting the duo. Purple puffs flew around Ranboo frantically, similar static and garbled chirps coming from all of them. Some were buzzing around the Warden, clearly trying to intimidate him into leaving. Even with his mask on, Gream could see the glare the Warden was sending towards Ranboo. "This isn't over. If you come anywhere near the prison-"

"You'll kill me on sight. Yeah, whatever. That's your battle cry these days." Ranboo stepped up, getting right in the Warden's face. "If you come near my family ever again, I'll return the favor in such a way, you'll wish you were dead."

Gream listened to the heavy footsteps of the Warden retreat, ducking low  in hopes of not being seen as Ranboo turned to enter the house. The ghost heard the hybrid sigh, sinking to the floor with his back against the door. "You can come out now. Sam is gone."

The small form of the ghost man peered out from behind the chest, acid bubbling against the wood. He pulled his hand back, cringing behind his mask and ready to be scolded. Ranboo was staring at him, and he stared back, curling in on himself so as to not accidentally dissolve anything. "I'm-"

"Why do you shrink?"

Gream jolted. Ranboo was still staring at him with that pseudo-angry look he always seemed to have around the ghost. "I... I um... I don't know... I just... I really don't want to be seen, then I'm small like this, and burning things with acid, and... I'm sorry, I'll learn to control it."

Ranboo sighed, standing up and walking over to Gream. The half enderman knelt down, scooping up the tiny ghost and holding him up to his face; "Relax. It's fine. Did you... do you know who that is?"

Gream shook his head, pausing before shrugging. "I... Not really? His voice sounds familiar... badly familiar, but as for a name... Warden... The Warden." Gream looked up to Ranboo now, hugging himself as he stood on the teen's hands, the netherite protecting his hands from the acid Gream always seemed to drip. "Do you... I mean are you... Is he-"

"Relax. I don't pick sides. Unless they're Tommy and Tubbo. I'm on the side of those two, but only if I need to be." Ranboo wished he had eyelids right now, then Gream probably wouldn't be so scared of him. "Sam... The Warden is... He's stressed easily, and..." Ranboo glanced at Gream's eyes, or where he thought his eyes were, a cold stone of pity resting heavy in his gut as he was hit with the realization of just how scared the little ghost was. "I'm not really working with him, but... I am pret-" his mouth suddenly sealed shut, as if he had just swallowed a block of honey. Ranboo tilted his head in confusion. No, that couldn't be right... "I'm pla-" Again, he was stopped from speaking. With an annoyed sigh, he set Gream down on the chest. "I can't tell you. I'm sorry. I wish I could, but... I'm stopping myself, as you can see. Much like you and your... shrinking and acid, it's not something I can control. Please, don't tell Tubbo or Tommy."

Gream nodded. "I won't. I promise, just... help me with the floor please? I'm not sure how to get big again or turn off... Turn off? Stop? The acid issue going on." He muttered, picking up one foot to reveal a growing puddle of slimey acid. Ranboo chuckled, a gentle smile coming to his face. "Alright. But only if you use the magic word."

"Please and thank you?"

"There we go." Ranboo cooed, patting Gream's head. The half enderman set the little ghost down on the chest and went to repair the floor.