• 𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝑹𝒆𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒔 •

𝓲𝓲 | 𝖘𝖆𝖉 𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖑𝖊 𝖇𝖔𝖞

—HE TREKKED THROUGH THE DEEP
snow that surrounded the tall pine trees. It laid delicately just below his knees, it's white frost chilling his legs-though they'd never gotten wet.

The sun shone coldly against the breeze, its warmth inexistant against the deathly cold. Not a chirp rang- nor a squeak of a squirrel, as it was too cold outside. They must have laid warmly in their dens, stuffed for a long sleep of hibernation. Birds happily chirping as they flew through the hot air of migration, their flock singing happily in tow(he really wanted to be like that right now).

His hope for his friends laid warmly in his heart, after all, he had to have hope,(or was that expecting too much for someone of the likes of him-) right?

Dream would sometimes find flameless torches left for dead around, seemingly placed there decades ago as vines grew across them, wood shredded and thorned. Maybe he wasn't the only one on this land, maybe there would be people around soon when the sun would come back up again.

Then-just like a whisper in his ear, he heard a noise. It wasn't any noise an animal would make, nor when the wind would rush in between trees and knock over snow to the ground- it was something else.

Dream froze, and everything became quiet. He blocked everything out and focused his hearing, where was it coming from-? There it was again!

———————

—GHOSTBUR IS SCARED, HES BEEN TAINTED SO FAR
that he doesn't think he could be brought back from the oil thats stained his heart black and empty. His dreams clogging up his ears with so much soot that he could no longer think without thinking what would Wilbur do?

Though they act like no one wants him to be what Wilbur had been before-who was he before though? He wants to be like he was before, what he's seen from the visions that visit him, when he was so happy.

Quick and painful flashbacks take him from the real world, flashing before his eyes without a care of consent(it isn't always worth what they say).

He-wilbur, did something wrong, smoke and ash clogged his nose and filled his vision and the echoing boom boom boom feels like his ears were being torn out and put back on again by a banshee with no medical degree. It would stay when he was back into the present and wouldn't go away until he calmed his breathing that he didn't know he was panicking.

Ghostbur was outside where he wasn't supposed to be. It was cold and wet and the wet hurt so much but he knew he deserved it. He sat on a mossy log sheltered by the towering white pine trees, he knew he had to get away from that cabin and away from the gazes of those who reside there.

It had happened again- he didn't mean it (but he knew he couldn't control it but he knows he shoud've) and ran off when the snowstorm cleared down.

He didn't know what else to do when all the faces turned to him and looked at him like he was someone he wasn't-Ghostbur doesn't know who he is supposed to be anymore with all those expectations on his shoulders after he died.

Ghostbur knows they don't know how other people look at him(he can't get Puffy's fucking expression out of his head and it won't stop constantly bothering him of what he did to make people look at him like that-!) and he knows the faces they make when his back is turned. (how could, he thinks, how could Wilbur handle faces like these when he was alive?)

Then suddenly Ghostbur notices that he can't stop crying- ghost tears that don't hurt him, even when he wishes them to. Blue doesn't help him- as blue is something for other people-for them to give him their sadness and take it away forever(was that why he was still here? Is that the fate he succumbs to for doing all those sins he did when he was alive?).

He couldn't control the hiccups that came out of his mouth- truly disgusting for him to be doing this, something he doesn't deserve. He was suppose to be a ghost to help people, how pitiful of him to be mourning his sorrows away while others are drowning in their own.(why won't BBH let Ghostbur help him?)

Then there's someone right next to him, he can feel it, and suddenly the feeling of dread can't stop sinking into his skin and making his eyes widen with the fear of who this could be(WHO IS THIS AND WHY WONT THEY GIVE ME MORE TNT-!).

Ghostbur is going to die again and he can't do anything about it, moving from the log is not an option as snow is pooled around it so tall that floating is no longer an option. He is going to suffer again and the train will never stop at its destination ever again for him, and he will be stuck forever on it tearing out his own corrupted soul.

"Your sad, how come?"

Suddenly, he is okay, Ghostbur is okay. 

Ghostbur draws his hands down off his face, head draws up to look at the other end of the log. It's a ghost, like him. Oh my god, it's another ghost, like him. It's like he can sing! Another ghost like him-!

The ghost is sad though, Ghostbur can tell. He burrows through his sweater pockets looking for something, his mind swarming about the question that was asked by the ghost across from him.

"I just thought about my past, it's nothing really. Who are you, friend?" Ghostbur's hand found the smooth of what they were looking for, and drew it out. "Would you like some blue?"

The ghost across from him blinked, hesitantly taking out his hand to grab the blue held out to him. Ghostbur can now see the other ghost's hand, see-through and itched over with scars, but Ghostbur only blinked at it.

"My name is..." the blue crumpled in his hand, the ash falling into the snow. "...Dream, would you mind me asking for yours?"

Ghostbur sadly gazed at the snow that the ash fell into, "Ghostbur, that's the name I'd prefer to go by."

Ghostbur glanced back up at the ghost, their eyes like the hardest diamonds-yet glowed like a glacier in the sun, it pierced through Ghostbur and Ghostbur could help but get chills rolling up through his dead skin and dread sinking through him and it felt like his head was hurting so bad like the memories trying to sink their teeth into his skull.

(MORE TNT MORE MORE MORE I. WANT. MORE-!)

"Do I perhaps," The pain in Ghostburs mind eased and his throat stopped closing up. "Perhaps, know you?"

The other ghost looked away, shyly wringing out his hands on his pants.

"I hope so, I'm..." he whispered "...kinda lost."

𝕩𝕠𝕩𝕠