"Whatcha' hidin' son?"

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~So I'm currently writing another fanfiction (also Dreamnoblade because I'm obsessed plz help) but I won't be posting it until this story is farther along... I'll tell y'all when I do post it so you don't miss out of the wonderful world of my ideas. *laughs* anyways... still #1 in dreamnoblade three days in a row can I get some POG's in the chat bois. Anyways... let's get into this chapter, shall we? Trigger warning-> mention of self harm

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 Dream was sitting on the couch, with his knees curled up to his chest while Techno sat on the other end of the couch, his voices going insane with thoughts of death.

"Blood! Hell yeah! Should we be concerned about Dream? Nah, we've got more important matters to deal with. Such as? What exactly that thing is and how we can be more like it. Oh yeah! Blood for the Blood God! Hecking yEs! E... No. E. E. E. E. E. E. E. E. E. E. E. E. E. E. E! E! E! E! E! E!"

Techno looked over to where Dream sat. He had been there since they had gotten back to the cabin; both significantly out of breath from running so far, so fast. Dream was shaking ever so slightly and Techno only noticed because of the miniscule earthquake happening on the couch.

"Are you okay?" Techno asks, voice a lot quieter than he'd meant it to be.

Dream freezes before slowly turning his head to look at Techno, as if he were scared that if he looked at him, something bad would happen.

They sit there for more than a few minutes, in silence, as Dream gathers his thoughts to try and think of the right thing to say.

Eventually Dream sets his chin on his knee and says, "It's complicated."

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to." Techno says.

"No. I want to tell you. I just don't know how." Dream says, moving his head so his masked forehead is leaning on his knee instead.

"You don't have to tell me right now." Techno says, to which Dream nods in understanding, causing them to fall into silence once again. Not comfortable but not awkward, just silence.

~~~

"What exactly are you proposing we do?" George asked Sapnap. They were in one of the towers and Phil had been listening to their conversation ever since he had gotten to a place where he could sufficiently hear without being seen.

He had chosen not to use an invis potion due to the particles it made. He heard another set of footsteps walk up to where they were.

"I think that Eret should go missing." Sapnap says.

"That would be too obvious." A third voice, Sam, says. "First Dream suddenly goes missing then Eret? We can't do that, it'd make us even more suspicious."

"He's got a point... We can't just keep having people leave randomly." George says.

"Well Eret keeps questioning our guidance. He'll catch on eventually." Sapnap says.

"I personally think that you two are doing a fine job of keeping Eret out of the loop." Sam says.

"Thank you." George says. "You've both got good points-"

"Of course I do." Sapnap says.

"As I was saying... You've both got good points, I just don't know what we do. Eret won't allow us to take down L'manburg and he's the one with a real final say in this." George says.

"You can try convincing him it will be what's best for the SMP..." Sam suggests.

"Or we can put our plan into action sooner and have full power even sooner." Sapnap says. "Let's walk, I'm tired of just standing."

"We don't have all the resources to..." Sam starts to say as they walk out of earshot.

Phil thinks for a minute before climbing back down the tower and sneaking back to his house, that he'd been gone from all night, where he finds his son, closing his memory book rather quickly.

~~~

"Whatcha' hidin', son?" Phil asks in a stearn-ish tone.

"Nothing!" Ranboo says, confirming that no one can lie to Philza Minecraft.

"Let me see the book." Phil says, holding his hand out. "I'll only read what you've written today." He adds, after seeing the slightly scared face his son wore at the mention of him reading the memory book.

Ranboo slowly hands the book to his father, not looking at the man while doing so. Phil opened the book to see a burned piece of paper, he chose not to comment on his son's burned hands that he noticed when being handed the book.  As he looked at the paper more he realised it was the letter Technoblade had sent him the day prior.

He looked up at his son who had a worried look on his face. "Did you take this out of the fire?" Phil asks, more concerned than angry.

"Yeah..." Ranboo says, timidly.

"I'm not mad, you don't need to be worried." Phil says before looking at the notes Ranboo had written.

"Please don't be disappointed in me. I know I went behind your back. I just wanted to know what was going on." Ranboo says desperately.

"I'm not disappointed, Ranboo. Just surprised that you put your hands in the fire! What were you thinking?!" Phil yells in a concerned voice.

"Well I didn't want to letter to burn. I wanted to read it." Ranboo says. 

"You know better than to put your hands in fire." Phil says.

"I know..." Ranboo says in a quiet voice. "Will you tell me what's going on now?"

"Yes. If you promise to not put your hands in fire again." Phil says in his concerned dad voice.

"I promise." Ranboo says.

~~~

"I need more blue, Sam." Ghostbur says in a dark voice.

"I don't have anymore at the moment." Sam says, unfazed by the ghost's closeness to his face. "If you keep asking then I won't bring you any ever again."

"You don't understand, Sam. I need blue." Ghostbur says, clenching his fists.

"I can see that."

"Don't mock me." Ghostbur snaps.

"I can bring you more blue tomorrow." Sam says, not planning on being there tomorrow because he had more important things to do than gather blue.

"Promise?" Ghostbur asks.

"Promise." Sam says in a flat, and uninterested, voice.

Ghostbur gives him a sceptical look before floating back a few feet to give the man some room.

"I won't be back tomorrow." Sam says as the first set of redstone obsidian doors close. There were two just in case the ghost tired to make a break for it. They were powered by pressure plates that the ghost couldn't activate given that he was a ghost and would just go right through the pressure plate. 

As the doors continued to close, Ghostbur floated, quickly, towards them, just missing his chance to get through the first set by a millisecond. He clawed at the obsidian wall until his ghostly fingers were covered in blood that ran down his already marked up arms.

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~Y'ever think about how easy it would be to kill someone? Hope you enjoyed. :)

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