#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]

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.