Fanart for Fanfics and AUs

My Dream SMP/Steve Saga Oneshot (pt 2)

Choice 1: "More And More Questions"

Ghost Steve stared at the darkened doorway to inevitably another staircase.

He looked back to the pig humanoid painting.

He pulled out a small booklet, he noted the locations of each painting. Plus a description to know which is which.

The ghost placed down his torch, leaving both hands free.

Slowly, the Steve began unhooking each of the thirty or so paintings.
He stored each safely into his inventory.

Soon, he had taken them all down.

Whispering as he wrote upon a sign, he assured whatever spirits that may anger through his possession of the portraits that he would return the paintings.

He kneeled down, placing the sign firmly on the gray bricks.

"I'll be back soon, hopefully," he said aloud to no one.

Little did he know how long he would be.

=hello hope you're enjoying the story=

=so idk how to restore paintings=

=nor how long it would take=

=so let's just say it took a week okay=

=also the next chapter for this choice will be double length due to the fact that similar things occur to the other choice=

=if you want to get details read the other option too=

=let's keep going shall we=

Time passed, and eventually the gjost could see the Rainbow Tree of Life in the distance.

Home was so close.

The sun had set, making the walk pleasant in the cool, calm air.

He had been down there for most of the afternoon.

Pulling out a piece of bread, he munched as he walked through the grass.

He'd begin restoration tomorrow, and ask Sabre questions about the ones least in need of restoration.
.
.
.
He got back to the Rainbow Town just as the others had begun settling down for the night.

Despite the building he now resided in being rather empty, it was nice.

The Steve pulled his wool sheets up to his neck, closing his eyes.

He stopped himself from thinking thoughts, leaving his mind to wander off quietly.
.
.
He began to dream..

He was a creator of worlds, allowing friends he barely knew into his newest realm.

He was a man, waiting for the thrill of revolution. Of war and death and power.

He was a child, fighting a war he would never see the end of. He kept his friends close, and possessions closer.

He was a man, fearful of failure. Doomed to forever walk the earth as a traitor.

He was the child of a great man, yet ignored by all. His tail hung limp at the worst of times, but grew energetic in the happiest moments.

He was a child. Fighting wars alongside friends and future enemies.

An explosion rang loud in his ears.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
He sat up in fear.

What was that dream...? Of war and explosions and anger..?

Whose role was he playing...?

Rubbing the sweat off his forehead, Ghost Steve closed his eyes and breathed deeply.