otters ۶ৎ

-> tags ᯓ★⋆𖦹⋆ˎˊ˗

#otterswriting -> fics that aren't crossposted on ao3

#otterswrites -> ao3 fics that are crossposted (won't be often unless i like what ive wrote!)

also very into good omens, b99, ghosts, britcom (taskmaster etc.), anything history, OC stuff & musicals.

-> boundaries ⊹₊⟡⋆

i free block, but please no dsmp/wilbur/iskall/stress fans. if you're a shitty person i will block

i dislike skizz + doc. don't mention them on my blog and it's chill, im civil about it

i hermit + traffic ship, i also joelship, ill reblog more of this than i posted, but in both scenarios they'll be tagged correctly!

Past Life Server, Session 6, mid-day.

[Scene opens, we see INTHELITTLEWOOD tampering with Cabincore’s hot-tub. It is unclear what he is doing at this time. He is alone, for the time being, SMAJOR1995 having recently left.]

It’s really an innocent thing that he’s doing. No harmful intentions behind it at all, no siree! Technically, by the wiles of Martyn’s completely reasonable justification for this, it’s only a hot tub once it has bubbles. He’s doing them a favour, and if they happen to stand up and take damage from the magma blocks, well, he can’t be blamed for their forgetfulness. It isn’t like they can miss the glowing orange under their feet, it’s right there.

[Enter BDOUBLEO100, there is the beginning of a scowl on his face, and his gait tells us that he is decidedly unhappy to be seeing INTHELITTLEWOOD. He stands on the front decking of the building, attempting to muster up a smile as he watches the situation unfold.]

BDOUBLEO100

“Hey Martyn, watcha doin’?

The unmistakable chipper of Bdubs’ voice. Bdubs who is always suspicious of everything in these games. Bdubs who is always convinced that someone is out to get him. This is going to end one of two ways, by Martyn’s calculations.

INTHELITTLEWOOD

“Bit of home reno for you. Thinking of starting a business, gotta get my foot off the ground somehow.”

Martyn prays that it comes off as a joke, that Bdubs isn’t gonna get all wary of him and run back to Scar or Etho and cry war. Though, it is Bdubs, so he wouldn’t be too surprised.

BDOUBLEO100

“Uh-huh. What are you doing?”

INTHELITTLEWOOD

“Adding bubbles. Seriously, that’s it! Promise.”

BDOUBLEO100

“Mhm. I don’t trust you. Infact, I should go get Etho, see what he thinks of this.”

Really? Is all Martyn can muster up. Can a guy not do one nice thing on a server where they’ll all kill each other eventually? He doesn't think that's too much of an ask.

INTHELITTLEWOOD

“You don’t need to do that, it’s literally just bubbles, look!”

[Enter SOLIDARITYGAMING, with a grin on his face. He is as upbeat as always, as if nothing can bring him down. He is between BDOUBLEO100 and INTHELITTLEWOOD, closer to the door. He is less apprehensive than the man standing next to him.]

SOLIDARITYGAMING

“Hey guys! What are we doing? Is this a chlorine change?”

BDOUBLE100

“Martyn’s trying to kill me and my teammates!”

[BDOUBLEO100 moves further away from the hot-tub building, back out onto the path, as if convinced that it’s rigged to blow.]

SOLIDARITYGAMING

“He’s what? How?”

Oh, this is great. Just great! He already had enough enemies, he doesn't need Jimmy, sweet, surprisingly evil when he wants to be Jimmy, thinking that he’s making his way around the server trying to kill everyone. Fantastic!

INTHELITTLEWOOD

“‘Okay. I am not trying to kill anyone! It’s just bubbles. It isn’t a hot-tub without bubbles.”

[SOLIDARITYGAMING moves inside of the building, getting a good look at what INTHELITTLEWOOD is doing.]

SOLIDARITYGAMING

“I don’t know, Bdubs, this doesn’t look like someone trying to kill your team.”

INTHELITTLEWOOD

“Because I’m not trying to kill them! I had some magma blocks left over after a nether trip and thought that you might like some bubbles.”

BDOUBLEO100

“Yeah, well, I’m not buying it. And- you know what? I’ll keep this quiet from everyone else if you pay me off.”

INTHELITTLEWOOD

“I’m not giving you money because I put bubbles in your hot-tub! It’s supposed to be the other way around, contractee pays the contractor."

[SOLIDARITYGAMING rummages through his inventory, searching for any valuables. He pulls out two diamonds.]

SOLIDARITYGAMING

He sighs. “I’ve got some diamonds, if you want them as hush money.”

BDOUBLEO100

“Oh, perfect! Thank you very much, Jimmy.”

[INTHELITTLEWOOD looks between SOLIDARITYGAMING and BDOUBLEO100. He is in clear disbelief.]

INTHELITTLEWOOD

“Jim, why would you give Bdubs diamonds? I was never trying to kill the cabin boys. You’ve given him hush money for bubbles!”

SOLIDARITYGAMING

“Well, when you put it like that it sounds like a stupid decision.”

BDOUBLEO100

“Nuh Uh. This is a very wise decision, Jimmy. Now when Martyn kills my teammates, we can take credit for the kills.”

INTHELITTLEWOOD

“I’m not trying to kill anyone! Seriously, as long as you crouch you’ll be okay. Or put a layer of glass, this is not a trap. At all.”

[BDOUBLEO steps inside of the cabin, observing the bubbles and sighing in defeat. He looks back to SOLIDARITYGAMING and INTHELITTLEWOOD, narrowing his eyes.]

BDOUBLEO100

“Huh. Okay. Maybe it is just bubbles.”

Yes, this is what he’s been saying! In their defense, he is a fan of traps in plain sight, but this was not the case. A guy just likes a hot-tub with bubbles. He assumed everyone else would too.

INTHELITTLEWOOD

“I told you that like a hundred times!”

BDOUBLEO100

“But you’re Martyn. I’d expect Ren to do something like this, not you.”

SOLIDARITYGAMING

“So, Bdubs, can I have those diamonds back?”

[BDOUBLEO stares at SOLIDARITYGAMING, a frown etched on his face. It is tense between them, their teams are not enemies, but there is an established dislike between them. INTHELITTLEWOOD takes a step back.]

BDOUBLEO100

“Nah, man!” he barks a laugh, “These are gonna make me a sword.”

SOLIDARITYGAMING

“Oh, come on! I need them. You already stole our diamonds earlier, Joel’ll kill me if he finds out I gave you them.”

BDOUBLEO100

“You wouldn’t be out first at least. There’s no way you’re getting these back. I- we, really need these.”

SOLIDARITYGAMING

“Martyn, you were the instigator of all this, you gotta fix it.”

INTHELITTLEWOOD

“Hey, I’m just the bubble guy, I don’t have to do anything.”

BDOUBLEO100

“Hush money is hush money, man.”

SOLIDARITYGAMING

“It’s not hush money if he was never going to kill you! I’ve just given you diamonds!”

BDOUBLEO100

“And they were a very nice gift, I appreciate it. Maybe we can be allies. Martyn, are you sure you aren’t trying to kill us?”

[INTHELITTLEWOOD sighs. He turns to BDOUBLEO100 with a deadpan look.]

INTHELITTLEWOOD

“Genuinely, yes. I just had some magma left after a nether trip and thought bubbles would be cool.”

BDOUBLEO100

“Oh, Jimmy. There’s no point in you having these.”

[BDOUBLEO100 throws the diamonds back to SOLIDAIRTYGAMING, who takes them with a grin. SMAJOR1995 and ZOMBIECLEO have joined the conversation, both watching with amused eyes.]

SOLDARITYGAMING

“We can still be allies though, right?”

BDOUBLEO100

“Nah, just wanted your diamonds.”

There are some parts of this game that Lizzie is never going to get used to. The confusion on how she's ended up here. The familiar faces that she can't quite place. The barren and bare world, that'll soon become a place of chaos and danger and death.

But for now, it's peaceful. Everyone is happy and smiling and for the most part, cheery. The few nervous faces amongst them are those who haven't done this before, or who have only done it a few times, like her.

Grian sends them off, into the wilderness, with a deflated smile because he knows, like the rest of them, what's waiting. They'd be friendly and maybe even civil until someone died, properly, vanishing forever, then, carnage.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

It's not long before the whir of music is filling her ears, which can't be right because there's no way somebody has a disc already, let alone the diamonds to make a jukebox.

The notebook, made of old leather and smelling only slightly stale, lands on the floor in front of her with a merciless thud. Lizzie looks down at it, squinting, staring, as if it's going to bare holes into her soul.

She looks around, through the cherry trees, down the hill, everyone, even the small pinpricks of people in the distance, look confused.

It's now or never, she tells herself, reluctantly leaning down to pick it up.

After careful consideration, Lizzie wishes altogether that she'd rejected the fancy wax-sealed letter from Grian.

It can't be that hard. All the greats have done this, wrote a poem and performed it. She can do it too. It's just, stringing a lot of words together and making sure they rhyme. Easy.

Or so she thought.

Lizzie’s no poet, she's never ventured to claim that she was. Surprisingly (or unsurprisingly, depending on how you view the circumstances), the task wasn't her issue.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

Some things in this game are always a rarity. Or not so much a rarity as they are a tactic to scam and bargain with others. Leather has always been one of these. Unfortunately.

There'd be a cow somewhere. There had to be. It's not like this world could be completely rid of cows. A few of them should be in a corner somewhere, it's just a case of finding them.

She's walking across the surprisingly beautiful fields when she hears a murmur, an unforgettably distinct voice.

“I need to get some leather, like, pronto…”

Bdubs. Surely he'd be able to wrangle cows, or some other source of leather.

“Bdubs, here, leather.” Lizzie speaks up, pointing at the horse roaming next to them.

‘Yeah, what do you have?” Bdubs responds, frantic. Or maybe he's just energetic, Lizzie’s never had a knack, per se, for figuring out emotions.

“No, here, here.”

“That's- this is a horse.”

“Yeah, and it's leather.” Lizzie shrugs, if she had her own way, she'd have just enough leather to craft a book and be on her merry way.

Bdubs gasps. “No, no, no, never, no.”

Well.

“I need leather too, actually, I've just, well, remembered.” Lizzie smiles, redirecting her attention to the horse in front of them.

“You do? Oh. No, please don't.” Bdubs sighs, shaking his head. “This guy, this, a prized stallion here. Mhm.”

“I didn't realise you'd set your eyes on it this early. Okay, okay, I'll leave it. Sorry!” Lizzie laughs, turning promptly on her heels. She's got a new mission now, finding cows, or another horse.

“Uh-huh! Top of his class, he is. But, he does drop leather, doesn't he?”

“Yeah. Just in case things get, uh, desperate!” Lizzie nods, “I'm gonna look somewhere else, for leather. It will absolutely, certainly not be a horse.”

“That's very kind of you, very sweet.”

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

Lizzie sighs, exasperated. She'd never be able to find a cow, at this rate. There were none anywhere.

Determined to not give up, however, she continues forward, hunting any bushes and collections of trees for a cow. Even one would be enough. She'd kill it, grab the leather, and run off before anyone could notice that the steak population in this world had fallen from one to none.

Bingo.

Hard work pays off eventually.

It's hard to spot at first, off in the distance, but the brown speck couldn't be anything else, it was near impossible to be anything but a cow.

“You're not killing that cow, are you? We can't be killing the cows, Lizzie.” Pearl pipes up from where she's hunched over her crafting table.

“What- why? I need it!” Lizzie sighs, stepping back from the cow, who she was very much planning on killing.

“If you kill them, they don't come back later on, and then we're all like, doomed.” Pearl replies, in that voice that she only ever uses when she's really trying to get a point across.

“What if I breed them first?”

“That's good, you can do that.”

“Yes! Okay, thank you!” Lizzie smiles, promptly heading off in a vague enough direction where there may be a slither of hope at finding some seeds.

“You're welcome!” Pearl shouts, but it's lost on Lizzie, it's barely audible, she's already off on her next mission.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

Well. That changes things. She hadn't expected things to be quite so difficult when she'd gotten that rickety old book not too long ago.

She finds a water source, and the river is warm, pretty, and reflects the sunlight in such a way that it allows her to see her work just right.

The land is tilled, the seeds are planted, and it's then, after everything is calm for a second, that she realises she has no armour.

There's no point in making a book if she's dead.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

It's darker much quicker than she'd expected. And wished for.

She has no light, no armour, no weapons. Maybe this was the point of Grian's whole task escapade. Distract people just enough so they forget the important things and in turn end up vulnerable to all the wrong things. Zombies and such.

She'd be much safer with Pearl.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

Pearl, as it turns out, is much more prepared than Lizzie.

Tools, mining down for iron, sheltering for the night. She'd come into this ready, Lizzie, on the other hand, had come into this stressing about the severity of the tasks.

Pearl, protector of the cows, the smartest being in the universe, does protect Lizzie. Kills spiders, wards off skeletons dressed in full gold (how are the dead more prepared than her?), and other such creatures.

Pearl is, however, very much losing hearts. Lizzie doesn't feel too good about that.

However, she's sure she wouldn't feel as bad if Joel was to lose a few hearts. Surely it's civil service to protect his wife? That's Lizzie’s reasoning, anyways, and it's good enough.

“Joel, save us!” Lizzie shouts when she can see the outline of his silhouette, silently praying that it works.

“Yeah, okay, I'll save you.” Joel laughs, smiling, that same smile he puts on when he knows that Lizzie is perfectly capable of defending herself, but would rather rope Joel into it, or a bit more fun.

She's seen that smile once before, she can't place it, and the memory is all hazy, but Joel had a very long beard and was living in a cave. Whatever that was about.

“Okay, so, what's up?” Joel breathes after a needlessly long battle with a spider who just won't die.

“Well, I've just lost three hearts, so..” Pearl trails off, shrugging. It wasn't a big deal at this point, she'd get them back easy enough.

“Oh, I've lost one and a half already.” Joel nods, sympathetic, to an extent.

Lizzie realises she should probably repay the favour of protection, wouldn't want any rivalries just yet. They're both lacking in hearts, it'd be the civil thing to do.

Lizzie sighs. “Well now I can't decide who to give my gift to.” She looks between them, Pearl was worse off, but Joel was her husband. Though, Pearl promised to protect her, Joel didn't.

She's never been great at making decisions.

“You can fight for my heart.” She concludes, looking expectantly at the pair.

“I'll give you this uh..” Joel starts, searching through his mass of stuff. None of it's of any value by any means. “wooden sword. I'll give you this wooden sword.”

“A porkchop?” Pearl offers up, tempting, but nevertheless, Lizzie knew she could get better.

“What if I tickle you with this feather?” Joel grins, producing a feather from behind his back, tilting his head and sneaking ever so slowly towards her.

Lizzie laughs, in confusion, more than anything, was he really offering that of all things?

“Oh, oh, skeletons! The first person to bring me back a bone can have my heart.”

They're off quicker than you can blink.

She can hear them shouting from afar, it's muffled mostly, besides from the few angry shouts from Joel and the cathartic laughing of Pearl.

Pearl runs back first.

“Yeah, yeah, bone!” Pearl shouts, smiling ear-to-ear and she waves the bone in the air, before passing it ever so gracefully to Lizzie.

“Thank you so much Pearl. Here, have a heart.” Lizzie smiles, punching the command into her communicator.

Joel's back, grumbling about losing more hearts, and how it was entirely unfair.

“You're the best, Lizzie!”

Joel shakes his head, clearly disagreeing. “I lost four hearts doing that!”

“I'll do something nice for you later.” Lizzie smiles, before changing the topic completely, “but now I need to harvest my wheat.”

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

“I've got four pieces of wheat.” Lizzie exclaims, solemnly, at first. Then a change in attitude, “When the day is upon us, and the sun rises, I get those cows. I make my move.

All of this for a book. For a poem.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

She's got to move quickly, find those cows that are hopefully, and she's really hoping here, still in the same spot. All nice and calm and not tampered with.

There's mobs everywhere, well, it's not like there'd be any alternative, this wasn't and never will be a peaceful world.

But Lizzie, ever the expert when it comes to weaving and dodging mobs, gets by without so much as a scratch.

Two cows in one spot. Perfect. Call it luck, call it divine intervention, call it whatever you please. All Lizzie knows, and in fact, cares for, is that there's two cows, free roaming, just for her.

“You.. you guys will be very, very valuable.” Lizzie grins, head tilted slightly.

“Yeah you will, silly cows.” She can hear Joel shout in the distance. Teasing, but affectionate nevertheless.

“I've had to jump through so many hoops for this.” Lizzie sighs to herself, glaring at the cows as she leads them onto the empty plains. “But it's worth it. It'll all be worth it.”

Fenced in, bred, everything is moving now. She can make her book, write that poem, hand it in.

It's all looking much easier than it did, well, she'd say yesterday, but honestly, she doesn't know how long it's been.

Find some sugar cane, or rather, barter for some sugar cane, craft some paper, get a book. She'd manage that, no problem.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

One boat and some hard earned determination later, Lizzie’s off down the river, in hopes - though, they're not very high - of finding some sugar cane that no one has yet pillaged.

“Sugar cane.. sugar cane..” She mumbles mindlessly to herself, keeping a wary eye on the riverbed, which, she thinks, is the most she's ever watched a riverbed. It's not something she particularly does a lot.

“Oh, I've got sugar cane.” A voice responds, from the depths of another world, apparently, because Lizzie cannot see them at all.

“Wha- hello?” Lizzie calls out, taken aback.

It's Cleo, she can deduce that much.

“I heard somebody say sugar cane?” She continues, erring on the edge of caution, in case this all a very elaborate plan to have her killed for absolutely no reason whatsoever.

She rides the boat down to where, presumably, the voices are. They sound louder and closer at the edge of the hill, near the end of the river, so common sense dictates that Cleo's in there. Simple.

And Tango too, apparently.

“Sugar cane?” Lizzie asks, suspicious, but willing to take a good offer.

“Are you offering, or are you seeking?” Asks Tango, with a twinge to his voice that Lizzie can't place, and doesn't exactly want to place, she's suspicious of them, as all things go, and would rather not know if her untimely death is near, thank you very much.

“I'm seeking.”

“I mean, I'll give you… uh, one.” Cleo shrugs, and it sounds as if she's questioning her own decision, which wouldn't be too surprising, given the circumstances, death game and all.

“That'd be, yeah, perfect!” Lizzie smiles, anything to make this less awkward. It's probably her own doing, not trusting them, that they're being so cautious with her, but, Lizzie does not go around blindingly trusting people, she'll have you know.

“Mhm, and then you can grow more, that's fair.”

“And I'll give you.. uhm. Pink petals!” Lizzie says, with about as much triumph as a child receiving a perfectly boring Christmas gift. She doesn't have much, looking back on things, her priorities may have been a bit skewed.

“Wow, what a trade!” Tango grins, sarcastically.

So much for her attempt at making things awkward.

“And off I go!’ Lizzie nods, promptly, and very quickly, climbing into her boat. “Thank you very much.”

The wait for the sugar cane to grow is long and boring and tedious. It's really taking its time. Does it not know she's on a time crunch here?

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

Her makeshift hut isn't anything to write home about, really, made in a state of panic as a creeper ran towards her and the ever-precious cows at top speed.

What is to write home about though, is the, and she doesn't mean this in any vain, monstrosity of a building that appears directly on top of her hut.

It's Cleo's work, because, well, why wouldn't it be, and Jimmy doesn't do so much to stop her as he does watch and laugh.

“You're not taking mine, are you?” Lizzie asks in a hurry, rushing inside and trying to work out what Cleo could possibly be doing.

Jimmy and his iron-clad skeleton can wait.

“No, I'm not taking yours.” Cleo replies, with a distinct lack of conviction in her voice. “It's gonna be fine, it's gonna be fine.”

She could've at least chosen to use blocks that kept with the theme, red terracotta is not it.

“Hang on a second, what's happening?” Lizzie questions, confused, bewildered, and irritated at her sugar cane's lack of growing capabilities.

“No, no, this isn't my… thing… my colours!” She continues, frantic. “What are you building!”

“I'll tell you what.” Cleo starts, climbing down from the building and dismantling everything she's built. “I'll make mine higher, okay? So it's not over yours. It's fine.”

“Do you think there's more sugar cane?” Lizzie asks a short while later, when Cleo has finally decided to not situate her home on top of her own. “Down the river, I mean.”

“Do you want me to- I can plant the other sugar cane I've got.”

“That'd be amazing.”

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

A mesa, a big, hilly, well, mesa.

It rings a memory distantly in her mind, but Lizzie cannot place what it is.

But there's no sugar cane, and the rivers at its end, and there's not exactly much to do in the mesa, because gold isn't going to be particularly useful.

She continues on foot, it's not like there was any other choice, she wasn't about to try and row a boat across mud.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

One generous lump sum of sugar cane from Skizz later and the unfortunate site of Cleo's… thing, (Lizzie would venture as far to say that you can't even call it a base.) and Lizzie finally, finally has her book.

She needs to be somewhere quiet, where no one can hear her or disturb her or tell her, in their deceitful and suspicious ways that, quite frankly, her poetry is really not that good, and well, is it really even a poem, and, if it's not actually a poem, does it mean anything?

Now, she's not naming names, but, if Bigb was to walk past whilst she was writing, there'd probably be a problem.

“Oh, now what on earth is that?” Lizzie whispers to herself as she walks to the edge of the river, turning on her heels to watch whatever the hell that is.

It can only be, in her right mind, Scar, on the back of a camel that could, at any point, have enough of their antics and attempt murder through suffocation, because he's the only one who would believe the opposite.

It's easier to pretend she didn't see that.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

Is it a good idea to venture into a deep, dark hole in an equally deep and dark cave in a situation where you have a limited number of hearts and lives? No.

Does Lizzie do this anyways? Yes.

It's a good place to write her poem, okay?

As it turns out, writing a poem in a lit, but ever so spooky cave, with no real intentions of what you're going to write, is much harder than Lizzie would've thought.

It comes to her, vaguely, and it's not so much ‘coming to her’ as it is Lizzie looking at her surroundings and thinking, well, it'll have to do, and writing that down. But it comes to her, eventually.

“You're mesa-in up my mind,

With your fabulous behind.

You won me a bone,

I'll never leave you alone.

I hope you stay alive,

and also thrive.

Don't forget to shift,

when you're near a rift.”

Beautiful, one for the ages, would challenge the likes of Burns and Byron, Lizzie's sure of it.

Now, if she could just find Joel, that'd make this whole thing complete.

People, and zombies, and people living down in the mesa caves, who could've heard her write the poem.

She's just going to have to stay in the cave for a bit, no problem. She can finally get some iron, which she should've done earlier, but a poet must always have their priorities straight.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

Maybe it wasn't a good idea to stay in the cave, considering the injuries she's sustained, but the coast is clear now.

It's a long trek from the mesa back to her home, but it's a nice site to see once she's back.

Cleo can build her base quickly.

Joel's there too, nice coincidence, all things taken into account, the poem burning a hole in her pocket, and everything.

“Hi, Lizzie.”

“Hi, Joel.” Lizzie smiles, trying to put on the facade of someone who has not just written a love poem for the person she's talking to.

“Is there any chance I can breed your cows and take the baby?”

“Yes you can, because… I.. love you.” Lizzie says, tensely. She's never understood why people say ‘it's now or never’ until just now.

“Aw, thank you.”

“You're mesa-in up my mind, with your fabulous behind.” Lizzie starts, and, oh God, kill her, she thinks.

“You won me a bone, I’ll never leave you alone.” The awkward silence is slightly unbearable, leave it to Joel to say absolutely nothing, not that the poetry exactly helps their situation, though.

“Why are you rhyming?” Joel asks, not suspicious, questioning, but it's got the gravitas to it that he's slightly concerned this is a plot to orchestrate his demise.

“I hope you stay alive, and also thrive. Don't forget to shift, when you're near a rift!.”

“I am very confused.” Joel tips his head to the side and raises an eyebrow, “is this… something secretive? Is that what's going on?”

“I just wanted to profess my love to you! In spoken word!”

Joel does not respond, so much for making the awkward silence less awkward, then.

“Look at that!” Joel grins once he's led the calf out of the pen, nodding proudly at it. “I'm an expert! Come on baby, let's go!”

Sure, changing the subject works too, Lizzie thinks, watching Joel lead the cow.

“Thank you, I'll call him Gerald and I'll murder him in the future. Why've you got a base above yours?”

Lizzie stares at him.

“That's a good question.”

“It's ugly.”

“Yep. Yeah.”

“Okay, well, thanks for Gerald!” Joel shouts as he turns and walks away, presumably with the intent to try and forget whatever those rhyming words Lizzie had said were.

Joel's right, it's hideous and disgusting, honestly.

—

Boogeyman. Boogeyman.

It's such a trivial word. Meaningless, to any outsider, nothing of value.

To a small collection of people, to one in particular, it means everything.

———

Scott's talking with Pearl, when it hits.

The conversation is lost on him. Everything goes numb, his hearing muffled, like a twisted out of body experience.

The tingling starts in his feet. Minute, at first. He's been standing still for a while, it's plausible enough to play it off for that.

He nods along to Pearl's words, trying to anchor himself. It's futile, the buzzing in his ears attempts to tell a story of its own, drowning Pearl out, but Scott persists, clambering for safety.

“Scott, you good?” Pearl cocks her head, raises an eyebrow. She's the first to notice when something is off, this time wasn't bound to be any different.

Scott tries to formulate a response, rolls the words on his tongue, but can't force them out. The sensation in his legs has made its way up to his arms, coiling around him. Trying to bind with him, become one, like that of giving someone a life.

His head feels foggy, the mist of an autumn day accumulating and forcing him to forget. It's not comfortable, it's not cosy; it's intimidating, an overwhelming sense of brutality.

Scott waves a hand at Pearl, who seems to understand the sentiment. She gathers her dogs and heads towards Scar's wizard hut.

The green base is calm, a sense of comfort that he can't seem to grasp at the minute, despite it being inches in front of him. His mind whirs, buzzing and searching for a solution.

He remembers what Etho had told him, what it feels like to be Boogeyman. You lose your sense of control, you can't think, you go numb.

A mental checklist, Scott works through it, Etho's voice a familiar guiding light in the darkness.

There's a noise behind him, the scrumpling of paper, scribbling of pen against hardwood.

Whether it be red-life antics or something else entirely, either way, Scott doesn't want to know.

Something inside of him, nagging, tells him that he doesn't have a choice.

There's a singular piece of paper on the crafting table behind him, the ink is splotchy, and hard to read, but it gets the message across.

He's the Boogeyman. There's no real alliances. Not until he kills someone. If he kills someone.

There's not many people to kill. Joel and Grian are off the list, it'd be unfair to take them out like that. Cleo can't handle another betrayal.

It's endgame now, a last chance to get a real hit on someone.

Scott doesn't know if it's worth it. The Boogeyman curse coursing through him tells him to do it, to kill someone and never look back. His more rational side, though currently suppressed, tells him that either way, he'll be red.

He doesn't want to be red. But it's inevitable. He can't trust everyone on his team. People will make silly mistakes and drop TNT at the wrong time. It isn't preventable, anymore.

———

The decision is one Scott makes quickly, in the heat of the moment - no real thought behind it, little strength if everything crumbles around him.

He'll lose his teammates, he'll lose his base and his security, any opportunity to make a mistake and come back from it.

There's no coming back.

There's a thousand thoughts wracking Scott's mind, does he tell his allies? Tell the other greens? It'd be unfair not to, they've gotten this far together, it's their last stand.

The Wither couldn't break their allyship, surely being a red-life can't tear them apart, they're stronger than that, Scott's sure of it.

———

Ren and Cleo are waiting for him, when he makes it to the Shadow Tower, depleted and crumbling. The look on Cleo's face tells Scott that she already knows that something's off.

“Joel ‘n’ Grian have trapped the base.” Ren nods towards the entrance, or rather, what remains of it.

“Are we attacking back?” Scott answers too quickly, he's sure of it, but it'd give him time to get a kill.

Taking out someone who's already red is against the honour code that's been silently agreed upon, but if they attack somewhere central, what's stopping him from stealing a kill on any of them?

Scott's not particularly aligned with Martyn or Etho, he's got no ties to them, they'd only be yellow. It wouldn't hurt.

They'd understand, right?

“I mean, we could,” Ren hesitates, eyes flitting around for an explanation. “I'm just not sure it's the right move.”

“I've got TNT. We could plant something underneath.. wherever they're hiding out. Give them a taste of their own medicine.” Scott reasons, it's his only hope.

If he killed Etho or Martyn, there'd be uproar. He'd be quick out of the alliance, have to play it solo. Joel and Grian would be after him like a pair of hawks.

“You know what, let's go for it.” Cleo steps in, nudging Scott with their shoulder. “What's the harm in it?”

Cleo knows.

———

There's no point in trying to trap spawn. Or anywhere else.

Grian and Joel are practically waiting for them.

He can't do it. They're red, but they're still his friends. They're out to get him, but underneath it all he can still see the people who love and care for him.

He offers them a polite, or what he hopes is polite, smile as they walk by, trying to play it off. They were never going to kill Grian and Joel and take them out unfairly, not at all.

Scott knows that they're smart. No matter how many awkward waves and half-hearted smiles he can give them, they're smart enough to find out what they were planning.

Cleo assures him that everything will be fine, they'll find a kill elsewhere. Pearl still has the green base primed and ready to go, surely.

Ren's off to the side, mumbling to himself about something being off with Scott. He isn't telling the group something, he can’t be trusted.

Scott would tell Ren that he's boogey, but it comes with just as much backlash as not telling anyone. He concludes, hastily as they try to outrun some skeletons, that there isn't much of a point to revealing his secret.

———

In short: he told them.

It just came out, really, in the middle of fighting a hoard of zombies. They were technically his allies - would they have seen it as a betrayal if he hadn’t told them? Would they have came after him when he was red?

He'd made a plan, in his head, as Cleo was rambling about how they could trap Grian and Joel’s secret base, that it'd be easy.

It was simple. If they were ever in the face of combat, whether it be an enemy or a hostile creature of the night, and were close to death, Scott would finish the job.

They'd all agreed, almost instantly, quicker than Scott had expected, honestly. It, in the back of his mind, the mind that wasn't his currently, made him wonder just how easy it'd be to coax them into other things. Things that were more dangerous.

-——

“So, Scott,” Martyn turns to him, a sly grin plastered across his face. “I know you've got your eyes set on someone.”

“Sure I have. You've been spending too much time with Etho.” Scott scoffs, he had his eyes on someone. He doesn't anymore, easy as that.

“Right.” He circles Scott, like a predator hunting its prey - shouldn't the roles be reversed? “I'm watching you. Our promise still stands, but if you try anything,” Martyn pauses, gesturing a knife slitting his throat.

“I don't doubt you.” Scott smiles without any real care, he knows Martyn will watch him, but he doesn't particularly care for it. He's not going after anyone, why worry?

———

It's late. The sunset is peaking in through the cracks of what remains of the Shadow Tower. It's gorgeous, as it always is, it's the one constant in this entire game. Though, tonight, it can't restore the hole in Scott's heart, bring him the joy he needs.

He stands at the edge of the base walls, a place he once found solitude, now reduced to nothing more than something warding him off, like he's some violent creature.

“I'm sorry.” Cleo offers a hand on his shoulder, it isn't much, but he appreciates the sentiment.

“Scott,” Pearl starts from where she's sitting on top of the wall, “Why'd it have to be this way?”

“I would've been red next session, Pearl. Just getting a head-start, this way.” The most Scott can give Pearl sympathy-wise is an awkward smile. He's got a lot on his mind.

If only it could be different.

In another universe, maybe.

Ren's by Cleo's side, giving him a small salute, as if he knew it wasn't the end of this alliance just yet.

And with that, Scott's off. Months of alliance building and living in close quarters and defending each other over in an instant. In the blink of an eye, Everything Scott knew was gone.

He's stronger than that though, he isn't going to let this bring him down. He's got potions and weapons and anything he could possibly think of in case he needs to attack someone.