Gold Is Appealing

Gaia's Curse

The vines dug into his skin sometimes. An unhelpful reminder of what he had lost.

They were like chains, in a way.

He tried not to think about it. Tried not to think about how his hair changed; from a bright cyan to a pale ivory tainted with blotches of red.

Every time he passed a body of water and gazed at his reflection, he couldn't help but think he looked familiar. He remembered fangs, long and pointed and sometimes uncomfortable in his mouth. He recalled how similar his cloud jump was to abilities he'd long forgotten; sometimes he'd jump up into the air and think about switching places with an angel.

But, as far as he knew, no one on the server was an angel. No one he knew closely.

Sometimes he would feel hungry. Phantom-hunger, if you will. Because he didn't need to eat anymore. But he'd still wish he could eat.

He'd probably kill to be able to enjoy the taste of cabbage rolls or pumpkin soup.

Would probably kill himself in order to get it.

As he sat on the balcony of his house, staring at the starry sky, he remembered.

He didn't remember anything specific; all the memories were murky, and most of the faces were blurred to the point where they couldn't be recognised. But he took note of other details. Like cod, cats called Norman, fields of poppies. Kingdoms of snow and golden antlers. Of rat tails, attics and giant feline catastrophes. Of necromancy, loneliness and dances with time.

They all mixed together in a strange cocktail of memories that both were and weren't his.

Scott clutched at an ache in his chest; a yearning for knowledge.

He sighed and looked up at the sky. Running his tongue along his teeth, he could almost imagine feeling fangs. But they weren't there. Because he was a fungal mage.

His hands itched. The pain of hurting a mob - he couldn't be bothered to remember which one - pulsed through his veins. Gaia had cursed him in that moment. He'd hurt someone, betrayed being a 'peace keeper' and paid the price for it.

How many people had he upset in the past?

Gaia, goddess of the earth. Mother Nature. She had given birth to the Titans and Giants. A powerful entity that was not to be messed with under any circumstances.

There were others, too. In a past life long ago, he'd killed an angel. And as a result, he was cursed to burn in the sun.

His own patron god, Aeor, and his brother Exor. How long had he been a devoted worshipper of the Stag Gods? How much of his life had he dedicated to following Aeor's wishes, to pleasing him, to keeping people safe, for nothing? Because he did everything in the end. He was the one to seal the demon away at the cost of his own life. And neither of the gods batted an eye.

He'd upset Them, too. Hundreds of pairs of eyes that Watched eternally. They despised him because he refused to play Their games properly. So he was made to constantly outlive his closest allies. Other than one.

Scott was a danger. To himself and to everyone around him.

The vines - nay, chains - dug into his skin.

He deserved them. He deserved the chains, for they were keeping him from hurting others. A criminal, a thief, a killer - all of those titles belonged to him - deserved the chains that kept them contained. That shackled them to their crimes.

He took a glance at the moon, and the stars surrounding it.

The moonlight shone down on him in a warm embrace. As did the stars.

The stars seemed to form a halo around Scott's head.

Scott curled up and allowed his eyes to droop shut.

Gaia's curse, as all the other curses placed upon him, would never leave him.

Writing Prompt #1

The Divide impacted everyone. The earthquakes were relentless, splitting the ground. Smoke descended from the heavens and covered the sky. The sun was gone, turning its back on us all in shame. We'd torn it all apart.

And we didn't regret it.

Murder Mystery AU?

Since Pix withered away and lost the crown, I had this AU forming in my head. I wanted to get it out here, and I'm working on a fanfic of this AU for myself. I might post some chapters, but I might just leave it as this.

Suspects: Scott, Katherine, Sausage, Shelbie, Joel

Detectives: Jimmy, fWhip

Victim(s): Pix, maybe Joey and Lizzy

Side characters: Oli, Gem, False

Pix would get murdered either at his museum, or at the tea party Katherine held. Jimmy would arrive a couple hours later, and the investigation would begin. Scott would be interviewed first seeing as he just acquired the crown Pix had before. Katherine hosted the event, so she'd be second on the list. Sausage handed out drinks, so if the cause was linked to poison then Sausage would also be interviewed. Shelbie would've been seen acting off after the death, which would make her a mild suspect. And Joel would be interviewed by fWhip because Joel would mock Jimmy to death before spilling any important info.

Joey or Lizzy could die next, Lizzy as a means of hurting Joel, and Joey as a means of directing the murderer to Shelbie or Katherine.

Oli would try to calm the group down, and would offer some help to Jimmy and fWhip, but ultimately wouldn't help much. However, he would still be useful as he'd be the one to potentially intervene during a heated argument between the cast.

False would provide some insight into Pix just...as a character, and try to provide motives for the others. She'd mostly try and stay out of the whole thing, but would pitch in when called upon.

Gem would give a detailed account of the night and be a useful witness, because I think she'd be observant enough to notice some small details prior to Pix dying.

That's it! It's not a ton of stuff, but I still think it's pretty fun.

Bye, have a great day/night!

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I'd Hate To Do This To You On Your Birthday

Martyn stared at the world below. Today was meant to have been his birthday. And, sure, he'd had fun, but there was just something almost sad about it. Something poetic about celebrating his birthday in the midst of the death games where he'd die immanently. If it were anyone else, maybe they'd come up with a decent metaphor for the situation. But as it was, Martyn wasn't really a poet.

He watched the night sky calmly. The swirling pools of ink dotted with smidges of liquidy purples and wisps of navy. Small twinkling stars that smiled down on the participants of the cruel games being enacted, as if they were completely amused by their primitive actions.

The stars were as clever and calculating as they were beautiful. Almost like Scott, in a way. His ally had been talking about strategically-placed pufferfish and strategically-placed dolphins for a fair while, and even though only the pufferfishes had been done, the ideas he'd come up with were quite admirable. There was no reason to doubt why Scott had won the death games twice.

The moon had a tranquil glow that night. Instead of its taunting and menacing light, something calmer shone down on their small pocket of land. Like Pearl. Pearl, who only for a few hours, had been acting somewhat odd. She no longer seemed like the woman Martyn had known throughout the games. Her voice was slightly different, for one.

Martyn couldn't help but smile to himself. Today had been so hectic that it was...nice to take a moment to breathe. No one else was up here with him. He was alone. And, while normally Martyn liked the company of others, he couldn't help but enjoy the calm complacency he was in. There was no chatter to fill the air. No breathing alongside his own. No whispered promises, stolen kisses or silent laughs shared between friends. No agonising memories to dwell on as his mind constantly compared current moments to those of the past.

He was alone. But he was happy.

In this game, where you could never prevent the clock ticking, it appeared senseless to just do nothing. Why do nothing when you could be out there, killing others to take their time from them? When you could be spending time with loved ones? When you could be setting traps to ween down the remaining numbers?

Martyn didn't have time for that. Well, he did, technically, but that wasn't the point.

He remembered everything from the past. He'd killed a close ally twice now, once in separate iterations of the death games. He'd tried to win back his 'soulmate' to whom his life was tethered to after she left him. He'd tried so much to do so much.

Maybe now, on his birthday, it was finally time to rest.

"Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me," he sang to himself to fill the silence. "Happy birthday dear...me?" shrugging, he continued on. "Happy birthday to me." finishing the song, Martyn sat down on the floor.

Unbeknownst to Martyn the Stars and the Moon were singing that same song under their breaths to him.

Limited Life Winner Symbolism

So I had a few ideas for the symbolism of the winner of Limited Life and this is it:

The Sky: As the timer ticks down, the Sky remains the same. They change with time as all may do, but ultimately they remain loyal and are still the same person no matter what. They live their life as the others around them focus on the dwindling of time left to live. At the end of it all, the Sky will honour the fallen and remember them all eternally, even in death.

The Sea: Strong and powerful, the Sea is dedicated to protecting those closest to them. Their waves, raging or calm, move with the pull of the Moon and smile up at the Stars. At the end of it all, when those around them are dead and gone, the Sea will welcome its fate with open arms.

The Void: They take and take relentlessly, prepared to kill to delay their inevitable death. The Void is ready to die, but will go out swinging or won't go out at all. Theatrical and brave, they will fight until the end and accept their death with open arms, prepared to join the others.

This is all I have for now!

Fishy Friendships

Scott hated his scales.

Yes, he was surrounded by the sea. Yes, he lived on an island. Yes he had coral in his hair and clinging to his clothes. And yes, he was part of a duo called Mean Gills. All of those things are very fish related, but that didn't mean he wanted to become a fish!

He couldn't change it now, though. He'd fallen to sixteen hours. He'd become a yellow life.

And for some reason, that meant scales were now appropriate.

Staring at his reflection in the sea, Scott ran his hand through the water to disrupt the offending image shown by the water. Glistening blue scales slowly creeping in on his face. They stayed near his forehead, but also went down the side of his head. Luckily his hair could cover most of them, but he would always see them.

His chest ached for reasons he couldn't explain.

He wanted to go swimming. He yearned to swim. For no apparent reason.

Taking a deep breath, Scott dived underwater.

He remembered dying. He was swimming, swimming as fast as he could, desperate to get away. Jimmy was hot on his trail. If he didn't act fast, Scott knew he would die. So he kept swimming. He swam and swam and swam. His lungs burned. Every muscle in his body screamed in pain. Martyn was close, too. Scott reached out for him, calling out Martyn's name, but all that came out was a garbled mess. Water flew into his lungs. Scott begged Martyn to kill him. He'd watched, helpless, as Martyn and Jimmy fought, shoving, kicking, elbowing each other, all whilst trying to kill him. Scott remembered how both Jimmy and Martyn had called out for him for different reasons. He felt the sword plunge into his heart. He felt it as his time as a green life was gone.

And suddenly Scott was panicking. Flailing in the water, his garbled screams could be heard all the way from the Bad Boys' mansion.

Someone dived into the water. One, no, two people had dived in. Scott couldn't tell who they were. They both looked too similar to each other. Maybe they were just one person. He couldn't tell.

He was being lifted up. Scott let them, no longer screaming in fear. The two people slowly swam up. He was getting closer and closer to breathing properly. Scott didn't even mind the water now. Even though he'd felt nothing but fear moments earlier. God he was a mess right now.

"Scott? Scott! Can you hear me?" He recognised one voice as Martyn's, but it was hard to make out the words. They all seemed to slur and mix, creating a weird linguistic concoction of nonsense.

"Scott, please. L-look at me. I'm sorry. Okay? I-i-if that helps, I'm s-sorry. Just-...please. Look at us, damnit!" Another voice cried out. This one was familiar too, but Scott couldn't place it.

His vision began to clear up.

Standing over him were Martyn and Jimmy.

"Please. Please just...acknowledge you can hear us. I-I need to know if you're alive. Your pulse is weird and-" Martyn's voice got caught in his throat.

Scott groaned. He tried to sit up, but Jimmy's gentle hands guided him back down. "H-hi," Scott offered weakly. Tears bubbled in Jimmy's eyes, and he hugged Scott tightly. Martyn was crying too, but instead was holding Scott's hand, squeezing it every few seconds.

No one moved for a while. Although Scott had recovered now, neither one of the men currently with him moved an inch. He resigned himself to watching the waves lap up at the edges of the Coral Isles. Night had crept up into the sky by now. He could hear the worried shouts of Grian and Joel off in the distance.

Reluctantly, Scott managed to crawl out of Jimmy's vice-like grip and just-...laid there. Not like there was much else to do. When he saw Joel and Grian, he gestured down to Jimmy with a simple thumbs-up directed towards them. The remainder of the Bad Boys visibly relaxed. The two dived into the sea with a faint splash and swam over at a slow pace. Scott knew they weren't slow swimmers. But it was excusable.

Jimmy had fallen asleep. With a nudge, he groggily blinked sleep out of his eyes and looked up at Scott.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out in an instant. "I'm sorry for trying to kill you and- and doing that, but I-I'm scared, I don't wanna die and we don't get a choice and-"

"It's...okay." Scott said in response. He didn't necessarily feel okay, but he could. He could learn to. For now, he'd just pretend.

"Timmy!" Grian clambered onto the island and tackled Jimmy with a hug. Joel followed soon after, slinging his arms around both of their shoulders. "Are you okay? You were gone for ages and we were worried but no death message appeared so-" Grian took a breath. "Sorry. I'm just worked up. Can we go home now?"

"Yeah, I'm exhausted after having to deal with Grian. Don't scare us like that again." Joel said in a playful tone. But it was clear to everyone that it was only there to maintain an act of confidence. In Joel's own, weird way, of course.

Jimmy looked to Scott for permission. He nodded, and Jimmy smiled at the others. As the Bad Boys left the Coral Isles, Jimmy dropped something on the ground.

"Wait, you-" Scott was about to tell him, but Jimmy smiled and shook his head. The Bad Boys disappeared.

Scott knelt down to pick up the item Jimmy dropped.

A poppy.

"You alright?" Martyn glanced up at Scott. He'd almost forgottten about his fellow Mean Gill!

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Is that-"

"Mm-hmm." Scott showed Martyn the poppy. "But, I don't know what it means anymore. So..." Scott walked to the edge of the Coral Isles. Memories flashed up in his mind, memories of him and Jimmy in the first of the Life Games spent together. Each one was closely tied to the poppy and the Pufferish of Peace. But since Jimmy lost the pufferish, Scott was going to lose the poppy.

"Are you sure?" Martyn hurriedly asked.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Scott threw the poppy into the sea.

"My place is with you. Here. On the Coral Isles. Not with him anymore." Scott smiled at Martyn and held out his hand. Martyn took it without hesitation.

It felt nice having a friend.

The Doll

He didn't expect to die so quickly.

Scott usually managed to survive a while. Not all the time, mind you, he was only mortal after all, but it just came as a surprise.

When he died, aside from the intense pain that came with being burned alive, Scott could almost feel his bones fracturing. Which was strange since he no longer had any bones to break. It was as if, in his third death, he had died as a Transporter too.

He felt a baby zombie sink its teeth into his non-existent flesh. Its fists collliding with his ribs. He felt that, as well.

Scott tried to shake the feeling off. He wasn't a Fungal Mage anymore. It was a new life, a different life. He wasn't like the others before him.

It was as if he was being pulled apart and pieces of him were scattered through lives he'd lived in the past. Glimpses of a sword thrust through his heart in snowy mountains, of dying to a friend's hand, of standing atop a mound of TNT and lighting it.

Of waking up in the flower fields again with a blurred face smiling at him.

Shivers crawled over his body.

He was dead now, wasn't he?

An emptiness crept inside him. The others would be gone soon. Properly gone. Would he be the last one left?

Scott thought about Sausage, his new life as an assassin. Of all his friends. Jimmy. Sparrow (although sometimes he thought he was Owen instead. Maybe he just had one of those faces). Lizzie. Martyn. Everyone he had cared about, gone.

Dead. Just like he was.

Something seemed familiar. He couldn't tell what it was.

"Home."

"Are you coming?"

"Martyn!"

"I'm giving you ten seconds to run."

Scott's eyes snapped open.

Bertha Theory/Character Study (?)

So I saw the video Bertha had, and this came to my mind.

To start with, at the end of the video, Bertha mentioned something their sister did to them. Now I immediately thought that Bertha's sister sabotaged them and became the Supreme Witch. But then why does Bertha bother hosting a competition for the role of Supreme Witch when they had been told their whole lives that they were worthy of the role? So now, I present to you...

What if Bertha is cursed? Cursed to be everywhere and nowhere, and never be fully present in the world? They commune with the animals, can instantly see their lives, apparently sold their soul to Scott (which kinda confused me for a sec - can't tell if that was a joke or not) and they don't seem to talk much to the other witches outside of the Dungeons. Even Pris touched on that in the video! So what if Bertha is cursed to forever remain semi-present in the world?

I think of it as the Curse Of The Entity. Because Bertha did mention that they were an Entity. So what if this curse basically turns anyone into an Entity? The doors that alone could open is unbelievable: Scott could use it to bring someone back, Tiff could fulfill Mother Nature's orders with it, Joey could prove himself to the frost mages, and so much more!

So yeah. Bertha has a curse placed on them by their sister to forever be an Entity, never fully able to live their own life and enjoy themself.

How's that?

Legal Rights and Murder

This wasn't good.

Not in the point of view for the court, anyways. Killing the person who decided to sue you wasn't a good look. At all. It just made him look really guilty and...pretty much made him lose any chance he'd had of avoiding being sued.

Ah well.

To be fair, he usually marked lots of things, and he'd completely forgotten about...that. It just wasn't very memorable! The guy sued him for counts of murder (that weren't accurate, he'd killed more animals than that) and for having a scottish accent, as well as a lack of empathy towards animals.

Well, he was sorry for the creatures that had to put up with him. Sorry for the animals that everyone on the server practically kidnapped and shoved into a pen to breed until it wasn't good enough, and then slain.

He certainly wasn't the worst person on the server. After all, Jimmy had put his sheep in his already-cramped house, as well as replacing parts of his floor with dirt and using it to grow crops. He'd helped fWhip and Sausage with grabbing those villagers! A tiresome affair really, especially with all the countless teleporting he did.

Maybe, if he played his cards right, he could find a way around this like he could with getting out of sticky situations. Mark a few people, do enough scare-teleports and perhaps he can get some friends to help him out. Forcibly, if the need arose.

He wasn't going to let himself go down that easy.

---

He was furious!

The darkness had suffocated him, a stark contrast to where he'd been before. The squelching sculk underfoot clawed at his ankles in an angered grasp, squeezing and scratching. The Warden barrelled towards him, the souls trapped within its chest pulsing brightly.

He felt his body practically disintegrate. Within moments he was dead and buried. All because he'd been unlucky. Because he'd made the mistake of letting someone mark him, and he'd paid the price for it. He should've kept himself at a distance. Should've made a glass barrier between them. Anything to prevent being marked.

But who was he kidding? The guy gave him gifts before reading the book saying he'd be sued! He'd gulped down the lump of guilt in his throat as everything conspired.

He wouldn't let himself make that mistake a second time. Not again. No, when he respawned he'd be far more careful. If he wasn't, then he may be the first to die permanently. How many lives did he even have left? How many did everyone have left? How much longer did everyone have to live, lives to use up, before inevitably perishing?

He didn't know.

The darkness had suffocated him and spat him out.