Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Scott wasn't quite sure what made him think this was a good idea.

He's not sure if he ever did.

Owen tried desperately to talk him out of it. ("What if it duplicates you?" "What if it's poison?" "What if it kills you?") Scott appreciated the worry. Though, Bek had later said that was ridiculous. She shrugged Owen off, told him that the worst thing that happened was shrinking one time, then another time where Bek had tummy troubles and was partially transparent. That didn't sound... entirely pleasant, but after they clarified that an antidote was made quickly, he felt... a little better.

Martyn nudged him and told him he sent a human to space once, even with how small their potions are compared to a human.

("What?" Scott raised a brow. "I doubt that's possible."

"Nah, nah, I saw it with my own eyes," Martyn laughed. "So did the humans. It was *wild*, but funny as hell."

He paused, then put a paw on Scott's shoulder. "Hey- He wouldn't let you get hurt though, I doubt it. He's pretty nice. A little crazy, and not as nice as you are I reckon, but he's nice.")

Scotty (what Olive's deemed the potion rat, after various attempts of her and Acho trying to merge "Scott" and "Dye" together) even said himself that he wasn't sure what it would do. He listed off all the possible effects, explaining any that Scott didn't understand (and it honestly took ages for Scotty to finish...) before grabbing his shoulders and asking if he understood.

Yet here Scott stood, right in front of the large black haired human (Mi… Mira? Or was it Mila?) and the dye-covered white haired rat.

The walk to Mila's (he thinks it's Mila) lab was agonising. He kept shifting between trying to get there quickly, to get it over with sooner, to trying to wander as long as possible to delay what could happen to him.

To try and win him more time, he tried to even think about how he'd even gotten here, to Le Terriere. Try to will himself into a daydream.

It had started with a note. A note from a young kitten, which had scared the rats out of their skin. It had a list of directions and had read;

"To the rats of the Icraga Attic,

How are you all? It's El writing this, but Martyn's the one sending the letter (hopefully).

Bek and I have found some place we could all stay! I know the winter's probably still as bad as the day we'd left, but this place is warm and nice and the humans here actually like us! We won't have to be running for our lives anymore. We even have a rat that can wrangle cats! And a rat who knows potions (and he said he's happy to teach you, Scott! He's named Scott too, funny enough).
Oli, Tubrat, Will, and Shelby are here too, actually! And there's a ton of new rats here that I think you all would like (though a good number of them share a name with some of you… like, there's another Owen here).
You don't have to come here, but we'd honestly be really happy to see you guys again. It's a lot safer here for you guys and the aparthotel owners themselves made it accommodating for us rats!

I hope you all are safe, and we miss you all! Oli actually whined about being hungry and how Scott made the best food (Bek found out about this and agreed).

With lots of rat love, El."

After a lot of bickering (mostly from Safety Rat) a lot of planning (Owen's great!) and a lot of cooking (he's never cooked that much in a day, and he prepped for Ratsgiving!) they set sail and followed these directions to the best of their ability. It took some struggle, and roughly a day of being lost, but they'd eventually managed to reach the grand aparthotel.

It took some time to adjust. Scott's pretty sure not everyone's used to it, in fact. Owen still jumps whenever sees a human. Jimmy and Apo still shy away from Graecie's cats.

But they're doing better. They're comfortable and safe and happy.

And now Scott's here. Definitely feeling comfortable and safe and happy about the fact he's going to be the alchemists' new test subject.

Owen stood next to Scotty, eyes flickering between Scotty and Scott. He's trying to stand confidently, clearly, but Scott knows he's probably nervous.

"It's okay, you'll be fine, I have some potions that'll heal you right up if it hurts, and some milk! That always wipes the effects… I think. Mostly. It didn't work when I shrunk, but–" Scotty paused. "Sorry! Okay! You ready?"

A sigh, then a nod. He glanced at the potion, then at Scotty. "As ready as I can be…"

Scott took the potion from his paws, and stared at the swirling blue-purple liquid. His gaze met Owen's, then Scotty's, then Mila's.

A sigh, shakier this time, leaves his mouth.

"Here goes nothin'," as the glass met his lips.

── .✦

"What did you DO?!"

"WHAT DID I DO?!"

Shelby paced back and forth, fumbling with her wand and nearly dropping it.

She had managed to coax Scott into letting her try out a spell that she's been wanting to try– something where she could have them speak to animals! That was what was meant to happen, so he could chat with other animals outside of llamas. She didn't want to experiment on someone random, but she thought that someone who already could (but not with all animals like Sausage) would maybe work with the spell better…? Or something.

Ugh, maybe she should have actually spoken with the other Scott before he left for his honeymoon. The necromancer Scott– he's really good with magic, and he seemed really nice when not threatening people and being really scary and threatening and taking their blood! He probably knows how these spells work… or maybe Tiff! She's the nature witch after all. She probably knew animals too. Maybe. Or–

"SHELBY!" Owen spat (literally, gross) at Shelby, huffy. "What did you do to him? Is he sleeping? Did you kill him?!"

She broke out of her thoughts at the sound of his voice (and the gross slimy spit on her face… has Scott really been unable to teach that out of him?) to glance down at their colourful friend.

He'd collapsed a second after the spell was cast. Which, obviously, wasn't meant to happen.

She kneeled down to check his pulse… it's still there. That's good. Then she tried to shake him awake.

"He's alive, but he won't wake up…" She mumbled, shaking him again. He's a pretty light sleeper, if she can remember correctly. So, if he isn't waking up, then that really isn't good, because this is a magic sleep.

The llama stared at her with big, wide eyes. He rushed to Scott, sitting on his chest (and ignoring Shelby's retort and attempt to get him off) and squishing his face. "Scott! Wake up!"

"Owen–" Recognising what he was about to do, she quickly covered Owen's mouth. "If he doesn't wake up, you're probably gonna suffocate him!"

She sighed in relief when he didn't try to argue, turning back to Scott. Her thoughts were racing in a way that she's not felt since the final battle to be supreme, since Scott managed to get her to ask Katherine out and make things official, since the whole sculk situation, since things got weird and creepy in the Evermoore, since she had to shift her entire universe into another that caused her to crash into other versions of Scott and Joey…

Maybe if she casts another spell–

"Eww! Owen!" She frowns, yanking her now wet hand away from him. "Come on! We both want what's best for Scott!"

"Then fix him!"

"I'm trying my best!"

She gently shoved Owen away, readying her wand. "Stand back, I– I don't know what this is gonna do."

And she raised her wand, muttering words she didn't know, and let the magic work.

It felt cold, strange, and foreign as it left her wand, her lips. The magic enveloped Scott, making her heart rate rise tenfold.

She was a fool for panicking, wasn't she? She can already hear Scott (the necromancer) scolding her, or maybe even Bertha telling her off, or Joey making fun of her. They… wouldn't be that cruel if she accidentally put her friend into an eternal slumber, right? They'd help her. Hopefully. But her witch friends don't really like Scott, and she doesn't know what they'd think about this Scott. Definitely nicer, but still Scott.

She just hoped, prayed and pleaded to whatever god could have been possibly listening (would the gods even listen to a friend of a god killer?) as the light of her magic blinded them, that she did this right.

She paled. Owen cried out in shock, or maybe fear (or even anger, anger rightfully directed at her).

She didn't do this right.

She's sure of it, as colourful clothes shifted to tans and teals, and sky blue hair turned to a coppery orange.

She did not do this right.

Chapter Text

Scott's head buzzed.

That was fine. Honestly. Probably a potion side effect (hopefully) that was normal (hopefully).

More importantly– he was sleepy.

He'd told Owen and Scotty this just before he accepted the nice warm embrace of the idea of a nice long nap. That seemed to be all the potion did– make him fall asleep. Thank the stars…

"S-Scott?"

Scott rubbed his eyes, slowly pushing himself up, one paw against the cold stone floor.

…wait.

Stone? Mila's desk is made of wood, and the crucible is a really really hot gold, so where did the stone come from?? Maybe Owen dragged him into the basement (probably not, that's a weird move) or Martyn did it (more likely, honestly) or Tubrat thought he died and dragged him somewhere to bury him (even more likely yet not at all).

"Wh…" He mumbled, finally prying one eye open as he kept his gaze down at the floor.

Hands.

Those– Those are hands.

He– did Scotty's potion turn him into a human?!

He put his hands on the sides of his head (right where his ears should–

His ears are gone, replaced by smaller, human ears. He dragged his paws (hands?!) along his (no longer furry, snouted, whiskered) face, then down his chest (he's wearing a tan sweater, he noticed, similar to his fur colour. His skin is paler than his fur too). He rubbed and squeezed that arm– yeah. Okay. The scar is still there. And…

"My tail is gone!" Scott grabbed at his hair, pulling it, as he whipped his head up to look at whoever brought him to… wherever he was.

He blinked.

The stranger, teary eyed, scarred, and wide eyed, blinked back.

Scott looked left, then right, then back at the white haired man. "Um. Hi?"

...Elle had always mentioned that breathing exercises weren't the only way to calm down from a breakdown. He just... never expected it to be this.

Scott was in the middle of comforting him, or as well as an apathetic elder vampire could comfort someone. He'd flustered Avid with his little "Sweet, innocent Avid" as he grasped his chin gently with sharp claws.

Only for him to immediately collapse. Avid had promptly panicked once more– he'd be shocked if there was someone in the coven who wouldn't, because Scott was a powerful elder who prided on being unkillable– before seeing Scott's body dissolve into this soft, blue haired, definitely-not-a-rich-vampire version of him.

The shock of it all had startled him so badly that it had grounded him.

"S-Scott?" He tried. Was this still him? Surely not.

Scott wouldn't be barefoot with muddy feet and muddy legs. He wouldn't wear dungarees or loose brown long-sleeved shirts. He wouldn't wear a straw hat with flowers in them. He wouldn't lose his composure and grab at his ears, body, and arms.

"Um, hi?" The man muttered, staring at Avid.

Avid shook his head, snapping out of his trance.

Honestly, he was kind of cute like this. This... Not-Scott... this Nott! Nott kind of gave off this innocent vibe.

"Hey. Uhh, Scott?"

Nott stared. "You know my name?"

Avid stared back. "Why would I not...?"

"Because I don't really know who you are?" Nott smiled back nervously, adjusting his hat.

The vampire hastily tried to wipe his tears on his sleeves. "I'm Avid? I-" He glances at the... is he even a vampire anymore?

"I'm not a vampire, I'm a– well, I used to be a rat, now I'm human? I think?" Nott muses, glancing at his hands.

Crap, Avid didn't mean to think out loud. Even with all the shock, his mind still feels frazzled and his undead heart is still racing from... death. From– Gods, he died. And then Scott died (is he even dead? Or just somewhere else) and now he might be blamed for this.

"Helloo? Do you mind telling me where we are? And, ehm. I didn't actually think vampires could exist, but I honestly think I should stop being shocked about these things."

Avid felt a chill run down his spine before he could respond. A beacon was taken. Not consecrated, not yet, but neutralised. Really? Now, of all times?

"I mean, I met a weird magical squid and a little man from another world, I can't believe I drew the line at vampires."

He wasn't listening anymore– he could hear the echo of chatter and planning from the rest of the coven upstairs, faint but loud enough for his ears to pick up.

"I like your outfit by the way! And– Ehm. Are you okay?"

Footsteps. A lot of them. Some landed heavy at the bottom of the steps.

"Avid?"

Staring at this alleged rat-now-human, with no clue of what happened to the elder vampire, Avid realised he might just be fucked.

── .✦

This was embarrassing.

Honestly. Of all ways to experience his first void death, it had to be tripping over his own feet from drowsiness?

Scott didn't even want to open his eyes. He knows Drift would be staring down at him, definitely, probably worried about him. She was a sweet friend like that. Or maybe Marm and Avid were swiftly on their way to know how it happened, to taunt him about it. He knows the former was quick on his case on his comm during that one accident, when he'd failed an ender pearl throw to land on the bridge. He wouldn't be shocked. With the latter, he could certainly and easily distract him from the void death and maybe get a few free things. If he was lucky, Viking could even be on his way to check in on him.

He rested his arm over his eyes, choosing to ignore the knowledge that his vision will be blurred for a good minute if he stays that long. It really was embarrassing. He prided himself on being nimble and good on his feet.

Knock knock.

Scott sat up almost immediately. He looked around. Even with the blurred vision, he could tell he wasn't at his island; they didn't have a house on their main island. So why did he wake up in a firmer bed in a room that he can't even recognise? He knows he didn't sleep anywhere else. Certainly not the Spruce Kingdom– he hasn't visited Leon or Nuke recently.

He slowly got out of bed, looking around until he spotted the door. Whoever was on the other side knocked again.

"Sheriff!"

...huh. Sheriff?

"Oh, Sheriff, I'm tryna respect your privacy," the stranger called, "but I kinda need you! Horrible, horrible creatures are in our town hall again!"

Scott felt his heartrate pick up as another voice– female, with the same southern drawl– starts talking. Two people. One is an authority, one isn't, and the other, more dangerous authority is supposed to be where Scott is.

This doesn't look good on him if they find him, a demon (tiefling, technically, but he knows if they're humans, then they won't care about the distinction) without their sheriff in sight.

Quickly. Exit, is there an exit? He doesn't have his things on him, so he can't tear down a wall quick enough if they get in–

There.

Scott can't help but grin. Looks like he's back on the run.

El sighed, making her way up the steps. "Mayor, I don't really think botherin' him is necessary? Abolish said he passed out right at the desk, I don't think–"

"Nonsense!" Poliver scoffed, waving her off. "Surely, he's fine! He always is!"

"Abolish also wiped all the monsters in there. We should be good now, Mayor," she tried to supply. "Let him rest."

Frankly, she wasn't the only one worried about Scott. Everyone had been noticing him working overtime, trying to fix any contracts that Poliver's been signing off, helping the newcomers repair and work on anything when they call him over for it, keeping an eye on town, even heading down the path to the mines at dawn to clear out any stragglers that manage to avoid being burned to death by the rising sun. Abolish especially has been keeping an eye on him. He claims he's doing fine, but they can all see through that. All but the Mayor, of course. Though, she can tell he doesn't mean badly at all. He just has a bit too much faith and not enough attentiveness, really.

Poliver glanced over at her, fist still raised and ready to knock again and possibly bother Scott into waking up, then back at the door.

"Alright, I'll leave 'im be," he shrugged, turning away. "But I reckon some fresh air could really do him some g–"

Thump.

El peers over, seeing a blue haired… demon? It's running away from Scott's house…

…who's window is wide open.

Poliver shoves the door open to reveal an empty house. An empty bedroom, door swung wide open.

"Wh– Where's–" El swallowed, trying to look around, though there aren't really any hiding places in Scott's house. "He was just here, wasn't he?"

"Tell the people."

"What?" She whipped around to face him. "Tell them what? That Sc– the Sheriff's gone missing?"

The Mayor stares at her, a little shaky. "I think a demon just took our dear Sheriff to Hell, Miss Eloise."

Chapter Text

Cold.

God, it has never been colder in his life. And he's faced the rejection of that handsome Sheriff! Eyy… haha. Mm. (Joking about it doesn't really make it sting less, he's learned.)

Scott's eyes snapped open as he sat up (a bit too quickly, his head spinning and his teeth chattering) on an ice bed in an ice tower.

What did Shelby's spell do? Is her weather magic still too strong to do anything but weather?

He groaned, hugging himself. It's so cold, damnit. He looks around, hoping to see anything.

Nope. Just ice and snow and soul lanterns. And a little potted plant that is miraculously alive.

The thief collector forced himself up, slowly and shakily making his way down the icy staircase. One step, then another, taking his time so he doesn't concuss himself (or lose his good eye) trying to get down. His shoes weren't meant for ice! And he wasn't meant for the cold, he realises, as his fingers started to ache and the biting breeze picked at his face.

As he takes step after agonisingly slippery step, he takes a moment to absorb what he's seeing.

The ice, now that he's looking at it, has a faint… glow. Magic. That kind of confirms his suspicions further. That it was Shelby's doing, but… with the way they glow a faint blue and gold, he's starting to feel his guess start to wilt. Regardless of her magic, it has always been a violet-like purple, just like her wand was. Sure, it's started to shift closer to a deep blue, like a dark night. This blue is a light blue, similar to the sky (or to this annoying ice staircase, thank god (not Joel) he's almost near the end). This gold in the magic also makes him feel like this is… almost holy.

The only time he's seen actual gold (and not just yellow) was in Joel's and Sausage's magic.

Joel's magical aura is sharp. It's spiky, like he is, but seems just a little unstable. Like he is. But the most eye-catching part of that is how his magic is almost completely gold and radiant. It's bright, it coats everything he's worked on, and it is also incredibly blinding and really annoying when he wants to look over at Joel's area.

Sausage's magic is… it was a blend of golds and greens, which made sense. Sausage had a connection with Santa Perla, and his magic was blessed to him by the earth and nature and all that. The green is… he…

…

Scott thinks he's going to die. He finally (thankfully) made it down to the end of the staircase, but now that he takes a look out the window carved magically out of the wall, there's nothing other than ice and strays and snow.

He's going to die to hypothermia. At least– hopefully– Owen isn't here. It doesn't feel great.

Of course it doesn't. He's dying. What an intelligent thought, Smajor.

(You'll die just like your parents did, his mind unhelpfully supplies. Alone, freezing to death.)

He slumps against the freezing wall, letting out a sigh. His breath clouds up in front of him. His legs start to give out as he slowly falls to the ground. He's not shivering anymore.

Scott Smajor is going to die.

Man. He sighs, laughing slightly (he feels hysterical for that). It… god, it could have at least been something cool, like… hm. Like getting caught mid-escape from a trap. Instead, he'll die, sitting here, to natural cold in an unnatural castle.

He just hopes he's alone on this.

── .✦

"That's a Smajor build if I've ever seen one."

Gem stared up at the tall tower fondly, almost exasperatedly. If anyone was going to try to live a self-imposed exile in luxury, it would be Scott. She looked over at the Codfather, who was blowing at his shivering gloved hands under the codhead.

In all honesty, she was shocked to see him come along to find Scott. Apparently, that date she'd caught wind of (she may have learned a spell to speak with animals and she may have gotten a bit of gossip from one of Rivendell's carrier owls) might have been enough to get the Codfather to forget about the whole… killing him for the crown situation that happened. Or, maybe he just likes Scott that much. Gem hasn't really put in the time to get to properly know him, and she's been busy trying to keep her brothers from killing one of her best friends who is not in the right state of mind. But, she knows that he'd seen him during the whole crown thing, just a week before Scott had run away. He had come to her, nervous because the cold had grown harsher and the ice that Scott left under his embassy (which the Codfather had to mention wasn't really exactly what he asked him to build) hasn't melted, which is very troubling if you recall that the swamp is a rather warm place.

"Are you ready? Do you want to stay outside while I go talk to him?" She asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.

She wasn't really sure what could happen. Hopefully Scott's alright, but she needs to make sure that the Codfather doesn't get hurt too, otherwise she'll have 3 empires at Scott and her throats. The Ocean Queen and Mezalean King are people she doesn't want to mess with.

"I'll come with you. It's fine, I'm not fragile," he scoffed.

Gem nodded before starting to make the trek up the hill to reach Scott.

She's really glad for the warming spell she cast. Even with it, she can feel the biting cold winds against her clothes and seeping through to reach her skin. She can tell the Codfather feels the same, noting his poor attempt to hide the fact he's shivering.

She returns her focus on the tall, extravagant tower.

"Smajor!" She called, trudging (the snow's thick here!) to the door. "Smajor, it's me, Gem! I'm not mad at you!"

A small and weak groan was let out in return.

Gem felt a chill up her spine. "Smajor? Are you okay?"

No response.

The Codfather breaks down the door before Gem even has a chance to do anything, revealing a smaller, notably human Scott slumped against the wall. His fingers have paled and blackened, his skin is frosted over, and his eyes are half lidded. He's not even shivering.

She drops to her knees by his side, casting a spell to create an artificial flame; hot enough to warm him, but incapable of burning him.

"It's okay," she mumbles, heart beating against her ribs. She doesn't know if he'll be okay. "I'm here. This should warm you up. Don't move, don't waste your energy, don't say anything, okay?"

Scott (if it even is their Scott, but there's nobody else in the universe that would have that exact shade of blue hair) simply glances at her, leaning into the heat. His eyes slowly shut.

The Codfather is quick to shake him. "Don't– Don't sleep, please don't. That– That's not good, is it?"

"No, god, Scott, please," Gem brought the flame closer, voice shaky. She watches his eyes flutter open, and a wave of relief washed over both her and the Codfather. "You'll be okay. Just– I'll cast a warming spell on you. It might be unpleasant, because there'll be a sudden change in temperature. You'll feel like you're burning, but only for a moment, and you're not actually burning. It will settle. Okay?"

Scott glanced up at her, slow. He nodded.

She cast the spell, noting the way he shut his eyes. Thankfully, not anywhere near how he'd closed his eyes earlier, as if "drifting to sleep" (or, more realistically, accepting death). It's more like as though he'd been flashed by light, blinded by it.

"Is he gonna be okay?" Jimmy asked, glancing at Gem.

He was kind of stressed out. Obviously, this had to be Smajor. Nobody else would be out here, and his face looked just like Smajor's.

…not that he looked that closely.

But even with the lack of wings, the lack of pointy ears and golden antlers, he could tell this was Smajor.

The only issue was that Smajor didn't just freeze to death from the cold in a corner of a tower, dressed in colourful, non blue rags. He was the cold. Jimmy saw it with his own eyes– the blizzards in Rivendell, his newfound ice magic that he seemed to be incapable of controlling…

And as much as he hurt Jimmy, he was worrying him really badly.

There was no way this was Smajor, but it couldn't be anyone else but Smajor.

Gem felt his forehead, then his neck. "He's warming up, and his pulse seems to be reaching a normal speed. He'll be fine. We should bring him back to Rivendell as soon as possible."

She gestured for him to pick him up. He did, holding him tight. He knew this was Smajor, but this still felt so wrong. Not bad, just… weird.

"As much as I want to let him rest, the moment he's well enough, we'll have to question him," she continued, dusting the snow off her coat, brows furrowed in thought and concern. "We'll need to make sure it really is him and figure out what led him to this situation."

He nodded, slightly adjusting the man in his arms to lay a little more comfortably.

"Do you think you can fly with him?"

Jimmy glanced down at him, at his peaceful face, despite the hell he must have gone through before they'd found him. "Yeah. Let's go."

── .✦

Owen has never been more stressed.

Which is really saying something, considering there have been plenty of times where he's sure his heart rate went so high he would have probably died from a heart attack (especially when he met the rats of the original attic).

He grabbed the shoulders of the other Scott, shaking him.

"What happened to him?!" He yelled, before letting go and pacing. "Oh, I knew that letting him be an experiment would have never gone well–"

"Listen!" The white rat pulled at his ear, forcing him to stop and calm down. "My potions aren't supposed to and aren't able to… oh, I don't know, turn people into space dust–"

"I'm not really made of space dust? I think? I guess I'm a little space dust."

Heads whipped around to face the source of the voice.

"Hi! I'm Scott. I– Where am I?" The space man asked.

He… felt like (and sounded like) Scott. The wavy, misty purple hair, purple eyes, purple tail, and purple and black limbs weren't Scott. But everything else about him felt like it.

"You–" Owen swallowed. "You don't know who we are?"

'Scott' winced at the sound of his voice (which kind of hurt). "Am I meant to? I– What are you guys, anyway? You're not any hybrid I've ever seen, and you're obviously not human. I have some guesses but I don't want to assume."

"Hybrid?" Scotty asked.

Hybrid…

That was a strange term to use. Nobody's a hybrid. They're–

Hold on a second.

'Scott' finally glanced over and saw Mila, jumping back a bit. "Jeezu– Am I small?! You're a human. I can tell."

That reminded Owen of someone. Or– well, two people.

Two people who said humans were kind, one man who claimed he was larger than what he was. Two people who didn't seem to be entirely… animal (he wasn't even sure what Sneeg was, frankly. He acted a lot like a moth though) but not human either.

There's no way that the potion could have…

"Hey," he started, stepping forward (and trying to ignore how 'Scott' winces every time Owen speaks). "Do you know anyone named Sneeg? O-Or Phil?"

"Ph– Oh! You know them?" The star man tilted his head. "They're some of my friends! You've…"

He paused. Hummed.

"They've mentioned you!" He smiled. "I can't believe they weren't just on some sort of… I dunno. Joint hallucination? Nightmare?"

"Well," Scotty shrugged. "If you need a place to stay, find your way to the attic. I think the way up there is a lot more obvious."

Owen, the moment that 'Scott' had left, went back to grabbing Scotty by the shoulders. "YOU."

"Me?!" He yelped, trying to pull out from his grip.

"Scott's not even in this universe anymore!" Owen shook him harder, frantic. "Because Sneeg and- and Phil are from another world, I think! Sneeg came from a portal! And if that Scott knows them, then that means he's not from here!"

"Wh– Excuse you, my potions cannot rip into other worlds!" Scotty finally ripped Owen's hands off of him, squeezing them. "I don't think dimension travel is even classified as alchemy, Owen. I don't think we can achieve that."

"Then how do you explain that?!" Owen gestured vaguely to where Scott originally was.

Scotty glanced up at Mila, who's frantically flipping through every book she has. He hopped up onto her arm, scrambling across to get to the chalkboard and start scribbling (still in small words– Mila, shockingly, could read all of Scotty's handwriting) to try and communicate what just happened to her.

Owen couldn't even think straight. Where did his best friend go?

That wasn't Scott. That wasn't his Scott, at least. It hurt a little less to know that now, to know it wasn't really Scott that was wincing every time he heard Owen utter even a single word.

He was scared. Hopefully Scott was somewhere safe, maybe in Sneeg's world, where he's being taken care of by non-human creatures bigger than them.

Yeah! Yeah, surely he wasn't in some cold and desolate place where people would want to bring harm to him! And even then, Scott can handle himself just fine!

…

He ignores when Scott had been cornered by the janitor, the first time he's ever seen his best friend so afraid and vulnerable. Or the time he'd come up to Owen, teary eyed and pouting, because a cat had swiped him down.

No. Don't think about that.

It'll be fine, surely.

He knows this is true because the Scott from Sneeg and Phil's place was here, then the only place Scott could be is where this starry Scott came from.

Right?

…

Chapter Text

Waking up to screaming and yelling wasn't exactly out of the ordinary, but it didn't mean it wasn't unpleasant.

What was out of the ordinary was the dewy grass below him, dampness seeping into his uniform.

He groaned, sitting up, rubbing his forehead.

He did not recall passing out in the woods on patrol, and if he did, Ranger would probably be nosing at him by now. What he remembered was working on some contracts that he knew Poliver signed blindly, contracts he knew would have resulted in the town losing everything they had again or owing more than what they can offer and being in debt. He'd likely fallen asleep (he was forced to work overnight, as much as he despised working in general, but that was a sacrifice he had to make to be the sheriff his daddy raised him to be) at the desk, which was unfortunate, but it didn't make sense why he was in the woods at all. That was the only nearby area with grass, unless he'd been kidnapped and dropped at some random location miles away from Pity.

Another unusual factor was how it was Owen's voice (and that man was not only not in town, but also doesn't typically get as riled up and panicked as he currently sounded) mixed with the voice of an unfamiliar lady instead of the typical Sausage or Mayor, or even Ms. Yamon or Ms El. He's still untrusting of those newcomers at town, as he usually was, even if they were here for the 'tourism' or 'visiting' aspect over the false 'striking gold' aspect. Even then, though, he'd still learned to recognise their voices in the cases of him being able to overhear them (because for some strange reason, people still can't seem to keep their mouths shut near his office, much to his irritation).

Scott cracked an eye open, unable to hold back the glare sent their way. His head was pulsing and this panic wasn't helping.

Before him were two… strange individuals.

One looked like Owen. Same hair (if not in a better condition, too good for the dry and dusty desert) but he looked younger. His clothes were orange and looked more like a strange trader, in a way. It was hard for Scott to put a pin on what kind of outfit that was– nobody dresses like that in Pity. The most notable parts were the fact he looked like a llama in a way; white ears, furred hands, hooves, and a little llama nose. Scott's never seen anything like it, but considering they've met an actual alien, and the town is progressively attracting more of the undead, he shouldn't continue to assume that anything supernatural is impossible. He doesn't trust this one– this… half-llama already felt like trouble.

The other might as well have screamed some sort of rich person or mage energy. The wand, unnaturally white hair (for how young she appeared), and the hat she wore all gave it away. He hasn't seen clothes like what she's wearing either, but the cleanliness, the professional look, and the gold in her hair and cloak made her appear far more wealthy than any of the people of Pity. Nobody was that rich to have genuine gold on them other than himself, but he frankly wasn't all that rich himself; the only gold he wore was the old, worn sheriff's badge handed to him by his daddy before he left. She seemed like a good person, though he wasn't sure about trusting his instincts anymore. (After all, he'd trusted Shep, and look where that got them.)

He opted to take in his surroundings over make it known he's even woken up. He should know if there are any escape routes, in case these two actually do turn out to be much more trouble than he can handle for one sheriff.

Houses. Colourful roofs. Colourful smoke. It seemed like an ordinary town, ignoring the fancy (and almost magical) fountain and the pen that looked as though it was full of llamas. He also chose to ignore the strange small railway track that seemed to loop around the whole town, a llama blissfully zipping around on a cart.

Realistically, he could just run in any direction if things go wrong. It's all open air, no trees, just plains and flowers. The only issue was that because it was all open air, it would be hard to hide.

The strangers here also seemed to be arguing about him. They knew his name, but for all he knew, Scott might just be a common name. He never left Pity, so he wouldn't know. They were saying something about magic. Magic had apparently made their friend collapse and then get replaced with him. Scott's also the name of their friend, it seems.

"Oh! He's awake!"

Scott's gaze landed on the white haired lady as she continued to ramble, hands twisting together nervously, "Are you okay? You're not, like, feeling sick or anything, right? I– Um. You're not mad at me, right…? You wouldn't get mad at me for this, right Scott?"

She knew his name. She likely mistook her for her friend, though with the way that half-llama raised a brow and squinted at him, bending closer, and the way this town looks (colourful, a harsh contrast from the browns and pale colours of Pity) made it clear he likely didn't look anything like her friend.

"I reckon you might be mistakin' me for someone else," he drawled, hesitant. "I don't know who you are or where we are, but I can say that I'm not exactly happy about my current predicament."

The two blinked, staring owlishly at him. They look at each other, then back at him. Scott gets up, dusting himself off.

"Why do you sound like th–"

"If you're not Scott, then who are you? You kinda look like him," she cut the half-llama off, covering his mouth. The half-llama glares at her, before squinting at him again. "Except you have ginger hair instead of blue. And you look like a…"

"Sheriff," Scott outstretched a hand, adjusting his hat with his free hand, "Sheriff of Pity. Pleasure to meet'cha."

── .✦

No, no, no– this– oh, Aeor, this cannot be happening.

Is this divine punishment?

Is this for being an awful champion?

Is this for hurting Gem?

He deserved it.

He wishes it wasn't happening.

He's somewhere new. Somewhere alive, with living beings that knock on a door that isn't his, calling out in concern. He's no longer in his desolate tower. He's no longer free to hurt whatever is near, because there was nothing to hurt but strays and zombies.

The ice had creeped out of this strange crystalline cave quicker than he'd ever liked. It already coated the walls and had covered the neat and well made bed, which looked as if it was never used, frozen in time.

And ice.

"Scott! Open up o-or I'll start shooting at you again!"

"Tubbo, stop that!" A sigh. "Scott, are you okay in there?"

Scott didn't hear them.

He doesn't even know who they are; he's in a stranger's house without the stranger who apparently shares his real name.

He can tell they're close with this stranger.

He needs to calm down.

If he doesn't calm down soon, he might hurt more people.

More innocent people with relationships and family.

People who don't deserve to have to deal with a monster like him.

The door swung open, and Scott instinctively brought up a solid wall of ice between himself. If he made spikes in this little cell of his out of instincts too, it would only hurt him. That's fine.

The ice melts. What?

The ice hasn't ever melted. He couldn't melt it. It didn't melt on its own.

The perpetrator is revealed as the hole in the centre, where the ice is melting from, grows wider. A blazeborn stood in the centre, hands outstretched.

"I'm sorry," Scott croaked out. "I'm sorry for the ice. I cannot control it."

An avian, with large grey and black (crow…?) wings, pushes past the blazeborn. "Scott, what happened here?"

He curls up, back against the frosted wall. "I am not your friend. I woke up here. I'm sorry."

What looks like a bee pushes himself in. "Scott, you–"

"I'm not–"

Another voice– Shrub's? "What even–"

"Don't–"

The avian reaches out to grab him.

Scott recoils harshly, and before he knows it, the poor, innocent avian is frozen to the ground. Sharp ice grabs at his legs, keeping him in place, slightly nipping at his wings if he were to keep them folded.

No.

No, no, he's going to do it again.

"Scott! What are you doing?"

He's going to hurt more people.

"Why are you blue?"

"Jack, you can't just ask people why they're blue… why are you blue?"

People are going to get hurt and it's all his fault because he couldn't just listen to Gem and MELT THE ICE and NOT RUN AWAY.

Phil shuddered harshly, tensing his jaw to try and hide the way his teeth chattered. Something was seriously wrong with Scott. For all they knew, this may have been some alternate version of him, but this was still Scott. Starborne or not.

Whatever it was that happened to freeze his legs, it had freaked Scott out badly as the temperature plummeted, glass cracking and icicles growing. Somehow snow had started to fall indoors.

With a bit of help from Jack (who he immediately tried to shove outside– he wasn't sure how far out the blizzard went, but there's no way it would have reached his volcano or the Nether) he was able to pry his legs free.

Once he was done fretting over the state of his friends (family, a voice corrected) and making sure they were far away from the blizzard, he turned back to Scott.

"Hey, bud," he kneeled, steeling himself for whatever fucked up reasoning this Scott has for whatever's going on here. "Are you alright?"

He reached out before hesitating, taking his hand back. Getting near him had scared him.

"Get away," Scott curled up further. "I'll hurt you."

Phil frowned. "Why would you hurt me?"

"Because I'm bad. I-I hurt Gem, I don't know you but I almost hurt you too. Just go."

"Scott–"

He winced. "I'm not your Scott. Don't call me that."

"There's a blizzard outside. And inside now. Listen..." Phil took a step closer, careful to keep Scott's personal space. He watched the man tense at the mention of a blizzard. "Nobody's gonna be mad at you. I doubt anyone could be, not forever at least."

"There's a blizzard outside?" The way Scott had asked that squeezed Phil's heart. "I'm so sorry, this is my fault, I–"

"No, just–" Phil took a deep breath. Scott was too deep in this. Maybe if he could trick Scott into thinking whatever he thinks is going to happen will happen (though Phil isn't sure about tricking him into thinking he's going to be punished for this). "Alright, mate. I need you to just breathe for me. Follow my breathing the best you can, yeah? I need you to be calm for this."

In four, hold seven, out eight. Scott breathes in four, holds three.

In four, hold seven, out eight. Scott breathes in four, holds two, before choking.

Phil pauses to rub his back, being careful of the wings he'd just noticed were there. Frosted over, unkempt, unpreened.

In four, hold seven, out eight. Scott breathes in four, holds six, breathes out eight.

They do this a few more times, Phil keeping a hand on his back. It felt jarring to see Scott like this– not only because he looked different (and Phil would say Scott is a completely different species, but honestly, who says starbornes can't change their form? Scott certainly did when he first got here) but because Scott, always so confident and charming and unruffled by most things, was shaking and crying and apologising, afraid of himself.

"You alright now, mate?" He asked, finally taking his hand off of Scott, lifting it for the elytrian (or deer? He has golden antlers too, equally covered in frost). "You're doing good. You haven't frozen me, see? It's stopped snowing inside."

Scott stared at the hand owlishly, shoulders rising again. "What?"

He looked around. Phil sighed, a little relieved. While still freezing cold, it wasn't biting and nipping at his skin and wings anymore. He hadn't lied either; the snow had completely ceased inside, and through the cracked glass, Phil could tell the blizzard outside seemed to have been reduced to casual snowfall too (though still unnatural– it was spring after all). Outside it looked barren, unusual for the Oasis. Though, Phil knew why– there weren't exactly any hybrids that live here that are able to withstand the extreme cold. Scott (the starborne) maybe, and possibly Niki since she seemed to be able to walk around during the winter, but the list kind of ends there. They were likely all huddled up by the Pube, in the Nether, or anywhere that was the exact opposite of Scott's place.

Scott seemed to notice the lack of people too, as he glanced out the window and breathed out another shaky apology.

Phil sighed, fond this time. If this version of Scott's gonna be stuck here a while, then the hybrids are gonna have their work cut out for them.

Chapter Text

Scott did not have time to react as he found himself plummeting into darkness, feeling pain prickle and rip at his skin as he faced a strange and unusual death.

He was quick to rise from a bed (how odd, considering he never exactly sleeps, nor does he have his own bedroom as that was destroyed alongside his castle centuries ago), unable to resist letting out a groan.

He usually is not one to show discomfort or any form of vulnerability outside of the occasional ick at peasantry. That particular death was incredibly unpleasant, though. Had Avid done it? Was he lying about being on the vampires' side at all? He would have to verify that first; he'd hate to jump to conclusions about the young and loyal and adorable puppy-like vampire, especially after that kiss. After all, Avid had proven his loyalty. It would be quite brash, rude, and simply out of character of Scott to suddenly go back on his word of not bringing direct harm to Avid as long as he clearly showed his loyalty to the Castle.

Scott Goldsmith also is not the kind of person to be surprised very easily. He is used to expecting the unexpected and he's incredibly observant; not much can get past him. This leads to how rattled he got as he took in his surroundings.

He was on a flat island, flooring made of dark oak and stone bricks and a peculiar grass patch in the centre (why would anyone want dirt in their flooring? Scott thinks he will never understand peasants). In the sky. With no ground in sight. The strangest part about this might have actually been Drift, who was not only stood at the side, hands stuck inside one of the many chests (out in the open, and Scott cannot help but wonder what "intelligent creature" would be so smart as to leave all their belongings outside where anyone can take their things and use it against them) on the side of the island, but also staring at him with wide amber eyes and brown hair. She notably was not wearing her more regal (and redder) detective attire either, instead donning a green cloak wrapped around her shoulders, a black top, and black pants, leather belts wrapped around her limbs and torso. She looked even poorer than she did before.

"Dude!" She ran over, dropping whatever she had in her hands (birch wood…? Ew, she has taste, so she better have been planning to burn that). "Are you good?! I just s– Woah."

She looked him up and down. He knew he looked good, but come on. Drift has already seen him plenty, and he swore she was into women instead of men with the way she has stared at his roommate.

"You look new. Did the void do that to you?" She gestured up and down. "I know it's your first void death and all, but like… I didn't think it would mess you up like t– where are your horns!?"

…what.

"…horns?"

"Yeah, man," Drift raised a brow.

A whip of wind was heard as something flew by above them.

Two figures, one with a metal arm and the other with a metal leg. They both have metal wings. Goodness, the lengths that humans have to go to fly is ridiculous. They land behind him.

"Your first void death, Scott! How was…" the girl trailed off, taking him in. Does everyone stare around here? "What happened to you?"

The boy– Avid, now that he has taken a better look at him, he looks rather cute and better dressed than before– slapped a hand over her mouth. "You look very handsome though, don't worry! Just– Wow…"

He took a step forward. It felt like that night he spoke with the townsfolk, with Avid calling him attractive and said he was glowing. "I didn't know the void could do that to people! Where did your horns go? And your–" he gasped. "Your tail! I kinda liked looking at that thing."

"Avid." The girl he was with nudged him harshly, eliciting a yelp from him, though they were both grinning. "But this is kinda weird…"

"What are you on about?!" Scott snapped, pulling his cape over himself. He loved the attention but this was simply too much. "What void? Why are you all speaking strangely? Avid, Drift, what is going on?! Where are we!?"

Drift figured pretty quickly that this might not be the Scott she grew up with.

First off: the looks. He still looked good, obviously. Her best friend was always super charming and attractive, that's how he was always able to get the two of them out of trouble. The issue is, he kind of gave off a super ancient vibe. He was pretty but in an ancient god kind of pretty. Not to mention, she wasn't sure if Scott was the type to dress super victorian. He also lacked horns and tail, and he had claws. She didn't hear anything about the void messing people up like that. Avid looks fine, and she's pretty sure he's fallen in a lot.

Secondly: the vibes. The two of them were proud of their islands! But Scott was suddenly looking at their main island in disdain! Scott at least had the kindness to not show her whenever he hated something to her face! He also just didn't feel… good to be around. He seemed like the charming type as usual, but he felt kinda evil. Manipulative? He hasn't said anything to suggest it at all, but she kinda just vibe checked him. Scott was always the one better at reading people, though, so maybe she's just wrong about that.

Third: the confusion. He clearly didn't even remember or know about anything that was going on. He was confused when she mentioned the horns, he was confused when he saw the island, he was confused when he saw Avid and Marm…

"Dude, what do you even remember about this place?" She reached out a hand, hesitating. She never really knew how he was with physical touch. He was always iffy about it, so she'd usually let him initiate.

"Nothing! Why are we in the air?!" Scott grabbed at his hair, before breathing stiffly, suddenly and immediately relaxing (she thinks). "I was with Avid in the crypts and before I realise what is happening, I have passed out, woken up in darkness, died, and woke up here."

He breathed again, as though he never has in his life. "I usually do not care for when I die, but that was excruciating. What was that. What did you all do to me." He bared his claws, glinting under the sunlight. Only now does she hear the slight sizzle of skin, and she can't help but wince.

"Did the void bring you into this world?" Marm mused, circling him. "I mean, we haven't been able to study all the abilities and properties of the void, other than the fact it kills us when we go too far down in it."

"I'd appreciate," Scott finally straightened himself out, claws withdrawn to long, sharp nails, as he adjusted his sleeve, "if you answered my questions. I'll answer whatever questions you have for me if you do."

Avid, Marm, and Drift shared a glance.

Avid spoke up first. "Well, we're in the air because that's how… Skyblock works? We're in Skyblock. Or– that's what we call it! Skyblock Kingdoms, because we're in the sky on blocks of islands and we all establish our own places using our own wood types as a main currency!"

Scott stared at him as though he told him Drift was straight and getting married to Avid.

He continued. "The void is basically the air, but like Marm said, it kills you when you fall too deep."

"Oh! Ruby said everyone's kind of immortal here. Nobody can die, and if they do, they just kinda come back wherever they last slept," Drift chimes in.

"Now," Avid put his hands on his hips, "what happened with you, mister?"

── .✦

"I don't know what happened! I swear!"

Avid scrambled to explain himself, hand holding Nott's tightly. He was kind of hoping that the other vampires didn't smell the human on him… if that's even possible.

Either way, everyone knew something was wrong just by looking at him.

Okay. Calm down, Avid. Just… just think.

Certainties – Scott Goldsmith is missing, but only after collapsing and passing out, meaning it may have been something magical that caused this, not something vampiric. Nott is– was a rat.

Uncertainties – Where is Scott Goldsmith? How did Nott get here? What's going to happen now that Scott's gone? He's even uncertain about how Scott disappeared. What's going to happen to Avid?

He let out a shaky breath (and reminds himself that he cannot breathe anymore). "I promise, he just passed out in my arms! And then he, like, turned into this guy!"

Avid lifted Nott's arm. He waved shyly with his free hand, gaze switching from one person to another, curious.

"…Owen?" Nott mumbled, though Avid could tell the mentioned vampire heard it with the way his ears twitched. "And– Shelby…?"

The two looked at each other, then at Avid, who shrugged. Avid thought he wouldn't know anyone here! He didn't know Avid, so he just kinda… assumed. Maybe he shouldn't have, by the way Nott's eyes seemed to almost sparkle the moment his eyes landed on Owen.

Why Owen? Avid respected the guy but he was also kinda super scary and brooding. Too negative for someone like Nott. He knew this guy for a good 5 minutes but he already really liked him, and he seemed super innocent and naïve and easily harmed by the world like Avid was and he wanted to protect him.

If someone were to accuse him of gaining a crush on Nott, he would deny it. Vehemently.

"Avid. What is going on here?" Owen glared at Avid, seemingly having chosen to ignore Nott. "Where's Scott?"

"I think I replaced him," Nott mused out loud. Avid paled (as if he wasn't already– Scott was right about him burning in the sun. Scott's always right about things) and prayed to whatever thing is out there that Nott doesn't get himself killed. "I'm pretty sure I might be in another world, actually. It's happened before with someone else, but I kind of don't know how to get back?"

The silence that followed was deafening. Horrifying. Suffocating.

"I'm sorry– Ano–" Shelby stumbled, gasping. This is probably really exciting for her. It's like her… her AU stuff, huh? "Another UNIVERSE?! So you've met me and Owen in another world?!"

Scott couldn't help but sigh in relief. Everyone seemed really serious in this world. It was kind of stressing him out, honestly (and if they were vampires, they could have easily torn him up. Not that he'd let them without a fight).

Shelby seemed pretty similar to the one he knew. Bubbly, sweet, kind, though lacking the New Yorker accent he got used to hearing.

Owen looked like the world forced him to toughen up. Like he was never allowed to have a second to breathe, a second to laugh with someone. The thought of his best friend, from his world or not, going through bad things and ending up like that squeezed his heart tight.

"Yeah! Owen was my best friend in my world! And we were rats!" He smiles wide, reminiscing on the metal flower he gave him long ago. He hasn't seen that in a while. He can't help but wonder if Owen still has it. Scott looks back at Shelby. "Of course, my version of you and I were good friends too, but you were napping most of the time so I rarely got the chance to hang out."

He tried to gauge their reactions, hoping not to have accidentally upset anyone. They're still friends, even if from another world.

Owen seemed... shocked to hear they were best friends. Even in another world, he could read him pretty well. It grabbed and twisted his heart to think this Owen thought so lowly of himself that it would be shocking to hear they were friends or their Scott was an awful person. Shelby looked super happy, almost ecstatic, to hear they were still friends. That's good. The other, standing to the other side of Owen with the strange looking eyes, perked up when they heard about rats. Hopefully they like rats. There were others behind them, but Scott couldn't make them out well.

"What did you do with Scott then?" A woman, broader and more intimidating than the others combined (even the one with freaky eyes) stepped forward, arms crossed. "Unless you conveniently don't know that either."

Scott felt a squeeze on his paw hand, and his eyes flickered to Avid for a second. He seemed pretty scared of them (this lady specifically) but he still tried to stand straight, slightly in front of Scott. That's sweet of him. Really sweet of him. (Don't get attached to someone so quickly again... Come on, Scott, you're better than this!)

"I really don't... I was being experimented on before I woke up here," Scott started, palms feeling sweaty. Her glare was burning into him. "A friend of mine is an alchemist, and he was working on a new potion and asked me to try it. So I did, and it made me really sleepy and fall asleep. I woke up here as a human and with Avid."

Avid nodded, squeezing his hand again. "What are we gonna do about the humans? We're, uhm, not really in a state to fight back right now with Scott being..." he jutted his head in Scott's direction.

So the other Scott was a leader? The farmer could only hope he was a good leader.

"Who says we need Scott to lead?" The woman scoffed, stepping forward. Avid shrunk back. Scott instinctively put out a hand in front of him, a little bit sad about letting go of his hand, but it's fine. The woman groaned. "You, stay out of this. You and him are liabilities right now, alright? He's weak and you're a rat. If his coven wants Scott back, then we'll probably need you alive."

"We," Owen's voice cuts through, stopping the woman from whatever things she would have said about Avid next, "have wasted so much time arguing about this. They're going to take another beacon."

She looks back at Scott, then at Owen, and sighs. "What do you want us to do then, since you're apparently stepping up now that the sire is gone."

Ew. Sire? He hopes that the other Scott didn't actually make them call him that.

"Avid, and you..."

"I've been calling him Nott in my head!" Avid pipes up. Scott whips his head to look at Avid. "Cus he's Scott, but, like, Not Scott. Nott!"

Owen rolls his eyes, "Alright. Avid, Nott, Pyro," Scott lets out a little 'ahh'. So his name is Pyro?  That's a nice name. "We'll go check on the crypt beacon. You lot should check on the other beacons before they can neutralise them, or stop them if they have. Their senses for the beacons are delayed, but so are ours."

Owen's eyes, big and deep yet piercing, land on Scott and Avid. "Come on. Let's go."

Scott can't help but feel dread as he follows the three vampires, watching Owen and Pyro share a glance.

Things aren't going to go as right and peacefully as he wanted, are they?

Chapter Text

Jimmy was pacing.

Lizzie knew that for sure.

She didn't exactly know what was going on. All she could understand from those hasty comm messages were "Smajor is dying to death" and "Smajor isn't Smajor but he's Smajor". So, basically, she understood nothing.

"Can you please just quit pacing and tell us what's blummin' going on?!" Joel huffed, slouching further into his seat next to Lizzie, who sat cross-legged on the ground.

They've been kind of waiting with Jimmy outside of the medical ward in Gem's tower. She, of course, dragged Joel with her to help be a (louder) voice of reason for her baby brother in case he spirals too deep.

"Smajor– He–"

"Almost died a death and isn't himself but also he is himself?" Lizzie deadpanned, raising a brow. Jimmy pouts, nodding. "You told me that on our comms. With multiple typos. You're lucky I got used to how you type."

"He's– No, Lizzie, you should have seen him. He–" Jimmy finally stopped, breathing heavy. He gripped the codhead between his hands tighter. She straightened pretty quick– he looked serious. "He was freezing. Lizzie, that's a bad thing because he seemed perfectly fine when I visited him about the crown even though Rivendell was already super cold for me, and his fingertips were, like, almost black and he wasn't shivering even though it was cold and Gem told me it was called hypothermia and he was going to die, but also he didn't look like Smajor because he was small and cold and colourful and he didn't have his humongous annoying wings or his big mighty antlers that he started growing that one meeting!" Jimmy pants, doubling over onto his knees to try and catch his breath. Joel rolls his eyes, grabbing the codhead from his hands and pulling it over his head, helping Jimmy's breaths return to normal.

"That does sound rather strange indeed," Lizzie muses, running a hand down his back. She didn't exactly like Smajor, not after the whole betraying Jimmy thing and the whole deal with destiny. Something else that outweighed how much she didn't trust him was how much she hated to see Jimmy in such a state. "If I know Smajor, he's a right stubborn elf."

"Is he even an elf anymore? He's not even got pointy ears!"

"…he's stubborn. And resilient. He has a demon brother, according to you. If anyone could bounce back from hypothermia, it would be him." Lizzie nudges him. "Gem's also an excellent wizard. She'll be able to get him back up and flying in no time."

She just hopes that's true. She knows it will be, but in these lands?

Who knows.

Scott felt warm.

Harsh contrast from the last time he woke up, freezing cold.

Is he dead? Maybe. Maybe he's in the arms of the Mother Tree, or in some form of heaven of Aeor, or under Santa Perla's eye. Whatever god there was.

He groans. It was soft, warm, and pleasant. He was wrapped up in a lovely blanket too (thick wool, sheep's wool. He had a blanket similar to this from Kath).

"Oh! You're awake! That's good."

Huh? "Gem?" He croaks out, slowly sitting up. His body ached, but he didn't feel as awful in that freezing cold. He looked around and took in the… purple. "Are we in Animalia?"

Gem– wait.

She's dressed just like the books that his parents showed him of the Great Wizard. Purple cloak with a fur trim and a matching wizard's hat, an emerald green dress, and her crystal staff.

His cheeks flush red as he realises he may have just embarrassed himself in front of one of his (many, honestly) idols.

"What's an Animalia?" Gem smiles a little, coming over with a tray of a steaming hot bowl of soup alongside a glass bottle, seemingly with a potion. "You're in the Crystal Cliffs' medical ward. Are you doing alright?"

Scott shrugged, adjusting the tray on his lap. "Did you bring me here?" He leaned forward. "Why did you put me in the Elvenking's tower?"

"Elve– Scott." She looked down at him, concern written all over her face. "You are the Elven king. How badly did that hypothermia get to you? Scott."

Scott tried to rack his brain for any plausible explanation for what was going on.

He was in the reality that his parents told him about. He was in the past, with Crystal Cliffs and Codfathers and Mezalean Kings (he never liked people calling him the "Mad King". If you thought about them, all of them are mad, and that man's buildings were not only pretty but colourful! Oh, he would love to work on something Mezalea inspired if he has the time to and someone to watch Owen while he's at it).

"I'm in the past," he breathes, staring at her with wide eyes. "I'm in the past, and I was right about everything."

Gem stared back at him, jolting a little. "The past?"

"The past! Oh, oh my god, Pix told me it was all a kid's legend, the old empires. You know, he told me that an elf couldn't grow wings or golden antlers or both but the Elven King did that, didn't he?"

"…yeah, yeah, he had both–"

"Ha! Oh, I can't wait to rub it in his face that I was right…" His joy and sentence both faded as he, once more, realised where he was. "…if I can even get back to where I was."

"So, you're not Scott?" Gem raised a brow, gripping her staff tighter. Oh, come on. He was hardly a threat here. He almost froze to death, damnit.

"I am, but–" Wait. "Was the king of Rivendell named Scott? And your name, you, the Great Wizard, are actually named Gem?"

Gem nodded. "How did you even get here if you're not our Scott?"

"Well, my friend is a witch, and she wanted to test out this new spell of hers on me. It probably brought me here, now that I think about it..." He sighed. "I didn't think her magic was that strong, but I guess she was invited to that Supreme Witch competition for a reason."

Scott tried not to mention the fact he was so sure he and his friends were reincarnations of the old emperors. Not yet, not until he was certain about it. He didn't want to cause any problems or confusion or even allude to the fact that all their empires are going to collapse at the same time in one day. Though, maybe he should point out that Book of Prophecies when he can. Rub it in the Codfather's and Count's faces. Wait, would that affect his timeline? Ugh.

"So, okay, hold on," Gem raised a hand, swiftly raising her wand with her other to rewarm his (now cold) soup. "So what you're telling me is you're a Scott from a future, possibly a reincarnation of him but I don't know if it also entails a personality change, you woke up in our Scott's place in his isolation tower, and you can't get back because your friend used an unknown spell that got you here."

"Yeah, that's about it," Scott shrugged, finally picking up his spoon. He registers what he was told. An unknown spell. "So, there's not a big chance you could bring me back?"

Gem, who was heading to the door, turned to look at him. "Until I know what kind of spell your friend could have cast, or some spell similar to that, I can't bring you back to your timeline."

Scott sighed, nodding. The whole thing of being in the past (and being right) was starting to wear off on him. Owen isn't here with him, and he can only hope Shelby is taking good care of him, far away from any Sheriffs.

"I'll call a House Blossom meeting to talk about this and figure out where you can stay, since I can't keep an eye on you while I'm trying to look for a spell," Gem offered, smiling. Her hand was on the doorknob. "I'll try to make sure you have a choice in all this, Scott. Just get some rest for now, I'll grab you when it's time for the meeting, yeah?"

Scott nodded again, humming as he had another spoonful of warm soup. It was honestly really good. Exactly how Gem, the Gem from Dawn, would make it whenever someone was sick. It was kind of uncanny, actually. Maybe some things never change, huh?

He laid back, looking up at the ceiling. And then groaned, hitting his fists against the bed.

He's gonna have to hold back on his grabby hands if he wants to live. He really doesn't want to though.

── .✦

Scott was disappointed.

First embarrassed, now disappointed, gods. Things came up Scott when Anathra gave him his bones and everything that came after, and now the world seemed to be all against Scott!

He spent a good whole day trying to rummage through people's things, to find something worthwhile.

Oh, don't look at him like that. He's already on the run, he might as well dabble in some crime if they want him dead without him even having to do anything. 

There was NOTHING here! He could even get more from looking through Avid and Marm's empty chests than he did.

People didn't even have full diamonds. They just had little bits and fragments of them at most, other than one guy who also had a ton of gunpowder and dynamite in his other chests. He promptly returned a couple diamonds, but he still kept a few on him. He didn't want to risk being blown up or whatever; he didn't know if he kept his strange Skyblock immortality around here.

He looked through his things; a couple diamonds, a lot of iron and some gold, and a weird looking blaster… gun thing. He decided to hold onto that for now, because if that was the only way he could defend himself, so be it!

Scott sighed, leaning against the wall of a brick-walled home just a bit away from the town. Close enough to be considered part of this town (Pity, what he heard them call it. He couldn't tell if they were being literal, but it does look like a pity) but far enough that he shouldn't be found yet.

He would try to be civil if they didn't keep calling him a demon, a wretched beast of Hell, and all sorts of other creative things. It's not like he's sensitive (he is) about his horns and tail. It's just offensive, honestly. What if he decided to call them disgusting zombies or fleshbags? They wouldn't take kindly to that at all.

He wonders what happened to that sheriff of theirs. Apparently he went missing, and they all think it was him. Hey, Scott's just as clueless as the rest! He just woke up in the sheriff's sheriffless house.

Scott hums to himself. He wonders if that void just sent him here. Maybe the void got weird about him being a tiefling (though that wouldn't make sense– why would it be weird about a tiefling but not the literal manifestation of nightmares or two full on "gods") and replaced him with a human version of him.

The concept of him being a man of the law made him snicker.

Scott, a renowned thief back in Meriport and Orchidia and Solspire and frankly any place he's ever visited, being a Sheriff in another life? Really? What a joke.

"Hey!"

Scott whipped around, immediately face to face with a blaster.

"Hey, hey, settle down. Return the things you stole, sir."

It was the woman from earlier, the one speaking with the mayor.

"And what're you gonna do if I don't?" Scott smirks, leaning forward. "Your sheriff isn't around here."

She frowned, lowering the thing. "Well– Okay, hey, we can still put you in a prison cell!" She sputtered, before sighing. "Look, listen here. We'll let you keep some of the stuff– and I mean some– if you tell us what you did to our Sheriff."

"Sure," Scott smirked, leaning back against the wall. "I don't know."

"Wh– What do you mean you don't know?" The woman stepped forward, seeming a bit more irritated. "You were the one in his house!"

"I woke up in a random bed after basically dying," he deadpanned. He watched her face range from confused to disbelief to a shocking amount of concern, and the speed of it all just made him laugh. "I would've been fine, the place I was in before had a weird thing that kept us alive. But the point is I was alone in his house, I have absolutely zero idea as to where he could be or who he even is."

"And why should I trust you?" She raised her blaster again. He rolled his eyes, ignoring the way his heart raced.

"Why should I trust you? Any of you?"

"Well– I–" she stammered, faltering. She shook her head. "You're in our town!"

"I woke up here! I think I should be treated with a little more care, you know?"

"But you're–" She trailed off. What even are you, by the way?"

Scott huffed. "Tiefling. Like a demon, but not fully, not evil, blah blah. You know, it's really offensive to keep comparing me to 'creatures from Hell'. My name, by the way, is Scott."

El paused. Scott?

It still frankly felt weird addressing the Sheriff as Scott. He's used to thinking of him as the Sheriff, but he'd shared his willingness to let them (as in everyone after the Gnarpy situation except for Sausage) call him Scott when he's not doing work.

Is this another sort of weird… weird alien situation? Except not with aliens. With another Sheriff. Or, not sheriff, because this guy also obviously stole from the town.

Can people stop stealing from a super poor town? Come on!

Back to the situation. He's named Scott. The one missing person is named Scott too.

"Last name?"

The Scott shrugged.

"Huh. Well, um, I guess you get to keep some of your stuff? Come on, I'll get you introduced to the others. They want their things back."

The Scott groaned, like a child being told that they ought to go to school. "Come on! I didn't even take that much! Mostly 'cus there wasn't anything to steal, but I only had a bit!"

The image of Scott, even if not the same as theirs, being so immature was pretty funny. Even when talking about his bounce, he still kept his steady deadpan tone and that slight grin that he sometimes has. He was really good at staying that stoic, distant sheriff, so this overly dramatic Scott was pretty fun.

El nodded. "We don't have a lot, as you could prolly tell. Which is why you need to return everything."

El found the tiefling (she reckons that's what he called himself, she kinda maybe… forgot?) hidden back behind Bek's house. She kinda felt bad about it all– he tried to be nice, whether to save his own skin or because he was genuinely nice, she didn't know. But either way, the townsfolk of Pity had reacted harshly. Sausage and Poliver freaked out real bad, Graecie and Bek got on the defense, and even Abolish prepped his blaster in case. Poliver accused him, very loudly and annoyingly, of dragging Scott to hell.

He was toying around with a diamond (he didn't get the chance to return any of it, he'd just ran) when she finally spoke up.

"You, uh, you alright there, partner?"

"Oh! No, yeah, I'm fine. I'm not…" he scoffed, looking away, smirking. "I'm not sensitive about it or anything. Just don't like being disrespected."

She shrugged, catching onto how defensive he seemed to sound. "I mean, it's okay to be sensitive about it. I think I'd be pretty sensitive if I kept being called a demon from Hell or somethin'."

He scoffed again. "It's fine. I don't know why you think I'm so sensitive about my horns and tail, I'm not."

"I didn't mention your… y'know what, I'm not pickin' this fight." She raised her hands in surrender. "Hey, I'll talk to 'em, make them know you're just as lost as we are about our Sheriff right about now."

"You do what you want," he shrugged, getting up and dusting himself off. "It's fine. I'll just sneak it back into their chests and barrels or whatever if they get madder."

El frowned. She really did want to clear the air, but she thought that maybe it'd be easier to do that if this Scott was with her. It seemed like he didn't want to step a foot or even flick his tail back into the community building after that, though, so she'll have to try something else. She didn't need him having to hide away or stay on the run.

"I'm gonna set off for now, maybe. Spotted a path and wanted to see where that took me!" The Scott grinned, as though he was never upset about his tail or horns in the first place. "Honestly, I forgot how it felt being on solid ground again. I'll explore a bit, I'll come back at sundown or something!"

He ran off before she could say anything. Man, that tiefling is a nimble one. No wonder anyone was able to catch him while he was actively stealing from a populated (or as populated as Pity could be) town in the middle of the day.

El let out a sigh, stretching her arms above her head, before glancing back at the community building.

She's gonna have to do a lot of convincing, isn't she?

Chapter Text

Scott winced harshly as the screaming resumed in his face.

"What– Pardon? Why does the knowledge of me being a sheriff constitute panic exactly?" He frowned, brows furrowed.

"It's just– I–" The lady stammered, gesturing wildly. "You're another version of Scott! I think! And he's a thief! And you're a sheriff! And we have a sheriff– And we– You're like, the law and our Scott likes to break the law and flirt with the law!"

Him being a criminal in another world… isn't the most out-of-left-field thing he could have possibly heard. And that weird "another version" thing did explain how he could have ended up here. Not completely, but it was enough to know that wasn't just dead or kidnapped.

The concept of a thief that finds a thrill in breaking the law being in his town wasn't very comforting, though.

Owen has been quiet for a while. A little suspicious. Before Scott could say anything, Owen opened his mouth. "You're orange. I like you better than the other Scott!"

He glanced down at his attire. It wasn't really… orange, it was more like brown, but he'll take it, he supposes.

"Owen–" The lady started, catching both of their attention. "Could you– Do you know the way back to Katherine's?"

Owen hummed, before nodding. "The half pink and half evil princess lady?"

"No– Well, yes, but don't call her that!" She huffed. "Could you bring Sheriff Scott over to her and ask her to call a meeting?"

Scott raised a brow. Now why would they need one of those?

It was a wonder to him at this point, because how could a thieving version of himself be friends with not only an individual that appears to be a rather powerful witch if she could bring him here all on her own, but also a princess?

"Yes!" Owen paused. "Do I gotta go through that portal? It makes my brain go woozy and my tummy go rumbly."

The lady gave him a look. Owen glared back, before visibly folding. He sighed, pulling out a bit of wheat and grabbing Scott's sleeve.

"Come on," the llama cooed, forcing Scott to come along. "You're coming with me."

The 'portal' was unpleasant. It felt like the first time he'd ever ridden Ranger, the poor equine getting so startled he'd shook and spun Scott around wildly until he–

…ugh…

Owen winced as the vomit hit the strange grey-black floor, Scott coughing and choking as the bile and acid burned his throat.

He awkwardly patted the sheriff's back. Scott heaved, wincing himself at the smell and sight of it. He whipped his head away, staggering back as he took in the strange realm he was now in. A red void-like sky, slightly dark, rather dusty. The floor was a weird and warm hard stone that he reckons not even the strongest of pickaxes held by the strongest of men could break.

Scott wiped his mouth, hand against the obsidian frame.

"Wow! Even I handled it better!" Owen mused. Before Scott could respond, the man grabbed his arm and dragged him along to another portal, guided by nothing but a trail of carpet.

There was a lot of carpet. He could count maybe around 14 portals around this area. The one he'd just left had colourful wool wrapped around the frame, a sign reading "Chromia: The Kingdom to Dye For!" The one he was being led to had pink carpet, as well as a sign that read "Glimmergrove".

Scott was able to keep his already-gone lunch in the second time he went through, but his head still spun and his skull thrashed and throbbed.

"Katherine!! Miss Katherine!!!" Owen ran off (without Scott, notably. He couldn't help but wonder how intelligent this llama was) towards the… castle.

The castle was grand, not as grand as he was expecting, but still grand and rather unique. Half of it had white, innocent walls, adorned with pink and amethyst roofs. The other half was black and grey, as though the colour and joy of the castle had been ripped away from it. The other structures of the kingdom were similar. Half were white with matching pink or purple roofs and accents while the rest of them were dark and saddened, the grass around them dead and the soil reduced to nothing but podzol.

It kind of unsettled him. He understood now why Owen addressed her as the 'half pink and half evil princess lady' if this was her land.

Scott jogged over to where Owen had run off, to see him banging at the door of the castle. He could only hope that the princess was kind, if she let him bang on her door like that.

The door swung open, and Scott was thankfully quick enough to yank Owen back before he could get a door to the face.

There stood a lady in pinks that matched the roofs of the buildings, some of her long black hair tied into pigtails. She seemed like a fairly kind and gentle lady, and not at all like the traditional princesses that his father would tell him about in stories when he was younger.

"Owen, what are you calling me for? Where's Sc–" She cut herself off, gaze landing on Scott. She smiled. "Oh! You must be new here! I'm Katherine, the princess of Glimmergrove!"

He lowered his hat as he bowed. "Scott Major, Sheriff of Pity, your highness." He stood straight, opting to ignore the shocked look on her face. He reckoned he'd have to get used to that if they all knew him. "I don't know what happened to your friend, but I reckon he might be back in my town. Your friend– Er. I never got her name, but she was the one who brought me here by accident."

"Shelby did this?" The princess looked him up and down, brows furrowed. His suspicions on her being kind were only being confirmed more. "Gosh, are you okay? I'm sure none of that was a fun experience. I assume you're from another world then?"

Scott nodded. "She also told Owen here to tell you to host a meetin'."

Katherine blinked, cheeks flushing pink. Clapping her hands together, she grinned. "Oh! Right! I should have probably done that sooner. Give me a second, will you? Owen, feel free to take the wheat from my farms!"

── .✦

"So, you all might be wondering why I hosted this meeting!"

Jimmy glanced around the table. It was, frankly, strange to see them all here again. Yet it also felt like it was only yesterday. Everyone seemed to nod in agreement anyway.

"Actually! I was wondering where Shelby is!" Sausage (of course he did, the two grew pretty close) piped up, before looking around. "Where's my colour papi too?"

Jimmy held back a groan at that. Those two were insufferable. They make him ill.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about…!" Katherine grinned nervously. "From what I've gathered, Shelby had made a mistake with a spell that ended up with Scott getting replaced…"

What?

That's… oh. Hm. On one hand, it's great news to know there's one less person to disrespect him! He's the greatest sheriff, and here Scott goes flirting and asking to pull on strings and disrespecting him. All that's good about Scott is his dye work and his pretty face and his kindness with his animals… but that's beside the point! And it's not true. Scott's good at a lot of things. He's a thief, and he's disrespectful! Just as bad as Sausage!

But also, Scott's still a friend despite all that. It's awful to know he's gone, in some unknown place. He can only hope he's okay. Scott was still somehow one of the emperors that were kindest to him. Sure, the girls were nice, but Jimmy felt like he was the only one who had ever truly went out of their way to help him.

Maybe he was the only one.

"Where is he now, then?" Pix raised a brow, hand lifted. "And replaced with who?"

It felt wrong to be so petty about Scott. He was nice when you ignored the thieving and the annoying flirting.

"Well…" Katherine grinned, hopping over to the door and opening it, revealing…

No way.

"He was replaced with… another Scott!"

(Jimmy's own chair scraped against the floor. Joel swore, audibly amused yet confused. Sausage gasped, covering Hermes' eyes.)

This is just another level of disrespect.

"You honestly won't believe what he is when I tell you!"

Maybe even worse than learning about that Old Sheriff and letting the others meet him.

"He's a sheriff!"

Jimmy's eye twitched as he locked eyes with this other Scott.

He didn't even spare him a smirk or a Scott-typical tease. Just a glance back, a slight nod.

(A nod of respect. He offered a gentle smile to the room, clearly overwhelmed as everyone clambered to ask him questions, namely the girls, Hermes, and Sausage.)

He felt his blood boil.

You know what? He isn't going to take this kind of disrespect. He refuses! Not after everything!

He may have regained their respect, but he knows he's lost it now. The moment any mention of being a sheriff or Jimmy's role got mentioned in their past reunions, it always went back to the mockery and laughter that was thrown his way.

Y'know what, Scott was probably putting up some long length act to get back at him for everything! But it didn't seem like something he'd do. Scott wouldn't do that.

If he was, Jimmy was going to do something about that.

── .✦

Scott tossed the apple up and down in the air. It was honestly rather boring, having to watch these humans scuttle around, trying to figure out what was going on.

"So you just– APPEARED?!" Avid shrieked, causing Scott to wince. Goodness, does nobody know that vampires have very sensitive hearing? "Like– you just collapsed and– you–"

"Yes, my dear, sweet Avid… How hard is that to understand?" He sighed, shaking his head. "I knew you were never truly the brightest vampire back at Oakhurst, but I did not realise that would–"

"Hey!" Avid yelped. "I'm very smart, and the CEO of my dad's company!"

Scott stared. "I will pretend I know what that is."

"A CEO is a chief exe–" "Ooookay…" Marm nudged Avid away, cutting him off. "That isn't important right now, and we don't want to overwhelm him."

"Why, thank you, ma'am," Scott smiled.

Drift stared up at him, eyes sparkling with innocence, but brows furrowed in the way that suggested she was trying to figure out yet another case of hers. She was always the curious one, was she not? So adamant on her detective activity.

"So, what are you?" She grinned, flicking his ear gently, eliciting a hiss from Scott that led to her recoiling. She giggled nervously. "You still aren't human, that's for sure… oh! And you have fangs!"

Avid scoffed, grinning. "He's gonna tell us he's a vampire or something."

"Oh come on," Marm giggled. "Our Scott was a demon, Avid."

Scott could not help but give Avid a bigger, fanged grin, revealing the two sharp canines that glinted under the (annoying, blistering, prickling) sun. "No, a vampire? Really? Everyone knows vampires aren't real, Avid."

The mentioned's eyes widened as he got a proper look of the vampire's fangs. His cheeks were flushing a beautiful, fitting flustered crimson, a colour that Scott has grown used to seeing on Avid's cheeks since he had that lovely talk with the people of Oakhurst during that blood moon.

"But you're not… burning in the sun?" Marm tilted her head, a hand on her chin.

Scott figured rather quickly that while Avid was still not the brightest in the shed which only made him more endearing, Marm was likely the one that kept him in line. She seemed fairly intelligent. She could make a great vampire, if she was alive in Oakhurst (and he could not help but wonder if this was the partner Avid had brought up once or twice). However, she also felt like she held the same stubbornness of Cleo or Apo.

"No, well…" Scott flicked his wrist. "We do experience weakness under the sun. It does burn, but it is rather like getting a sunburn instead of being burned alive. There are many things that people apparently believed us vampires would die to, but in reality, it simply and merely made us weaker or vulnerable for a certain amount of time."

"Oh! Hold on, Scott, you've been burning this whole time?"

Scott shrugged. "It is not necessarily the most comfortable thing to have to experience, darling. But I have grown used to–"

He was quickly engulfed in (what would have been) darkness, being greeted by naught but this Drift's own viridian cloak covering his head. The relief of his face being covered by the sun was immediate, but it did not stop him from flailing trying to get this bloody cloak off of him.

"Dude, come on, we're taking you to the tavern." Drift's voice was audibly concerned, but steadier than he could ever remember when she was human back in Oakhurst. She reached under the cloak to link her arm with his, gently guiding him forward. "I'm not letting you burn alive on our island until I have the time to make a house!"

Scott lifted the cloak with his free arm to look at her. "You do not have a house?"

"Nah. Me and my Scott wanted to start off with a big presence. Not as big as theirs, but we figured we should build a tavern since apparently there's no actual community space around here!" Drift grinned, tugging him along harder. "We also just had more plans about the tavern and decided to go through with it first. While it was still fresh in our minds, y'know?"

He stared. "I… suppose. And you really don't mind me being a vampire?"

He felt a little suspicious, how suddenly kind she was about… all this. Typically, humans were never this kind. Though, considering where they are, as well as the other him allegedly being a demon (the horns and tail comment finally made sense to him, when she had asked him when he had woken up here at first) it would not be surprising if they were simply used to supernatural creatures.

Drift scoffed. "Dude, you're my best friend since childhood! I mean yeah, you're a super different version who's kinda snobby and a little like the nobles we stole from, but you're still Scott, right? Why should I treat you differently? You're still my best friend!"

Scott felt his undead heart warm. This level of trust and vulnerability from Drift was unreliable and reckless, frankly. Trusting others so quickly would only get her killed. This is why Scott tended to stray away from links, from having relationships and connections. This is why he made sure he never got attached. Scott would surely only lead to harm in the future, when he inevitably grows hungry. It was one of his own personal rules; do not grow attached. It will only end poorly for everyone.

(He has grown attached, his heart screamed. He has grown attached to Shelby, ever since they made that house of theirs and proudly placed that sign restricting monsters from entering, unaware of their own roommate being one of those aforementioned monsters. He has grown attached to Drift, who was a late addition but has slowly managed to worm her way into her heart by keeping close to their two more chaotic peers, keeping them grounded. He has grown attached to Avid, who once hated him but grew to accept who he was, and loved him for no good reason other than the fact that his dead heart apparently yearned for Scott Goldsmith, who kissed him at that beacon.

He had broken his own personal rule.

He opted to ignore that fact. These thoughts. The yearning in his own cold stone heart for a connection like he always wished for as a child.)

"And we've got tieflings and portals and talking fish and penguins and literal gods and the deity of nightmares." Avid rolled his eyes, smiling.

"Honestly," Marm nodded, a little awkward despite the mirth on her face. "The other you had a point about me being shocked about him having a tail when we have talking animals and such."

"You were kinda super wrapped up in the idea you made us, so I guess that's why," Drift nudged her. "Do you guys got any, like, live animals by the way? Or some sort of creature that can bleed?"

Avid and Marm gave her strange looks. Drift rolled her eyes fondly, squeezing his arm a bit. "The vampire that I have bundled up right now is gonna get hungry eventually, guys. I mean, I can give him my blood, but I dunno if I'm gonna manage to keep myself alive, y'know?"

Scott shook his head, looking up at her. What is she doing? Is she really going to offer her own blood? What a fool. Does she not know how he could kill her in one swift swoop and just feed on her dead corpse? He could do that to everyone here if he truly desired it.

…he shall not. Only because that would be impractical. It would be better to have them all on his side. He will not get attached. He is not attached.

"Are you sure?" Avid pressed his fingers together. While already red, he was only getting redder by the minute. "I mean, I wouldn't at all mind someone like him biting me–"

"Avid." Marm whacked him over the head with her copper arm, eliciting a loud yelp from him. "Tame yourself around guests!"

Scott was dragged up a few steps and pressed into a plush chair at a rather dimly lit tavern as the two bickered. Drift finally took the cloak off of him, picking off any lint that may have clung to him (or, at the very least, the lint she noticed. She was always rather perceptive) and dusting him off.

"Why, thank you, Drift darling," Scott could not help but smile as he watched the three turn, as though about to leave. It was not like his typical smirk, not one ounce of condescendence in it. "Oh, before you go, do know not to fret about getting the blood to me soon."

(Drift was one of the three he held dearest to him– do not misunderstand this. He cared for Owen and Pyro quite a lot, however Drift was important to Avid and Shelby. Avid and Shelby were… important to him. So she was too.)

The three turned to look at him.

"I'm an elder vampire, I know how to handle my hunger and restrain my claws," Scott leaned back, crossing his legs and flicking his wrist once more. "Not to mention, I am at stage three at the current moment, and despite the death, I shockingly feel rather full. Now, while I would prefer to remain at this stage, as it is my prime, I still have a few reserves in the shape of my lower stages."

Drift hummed. "Oh! Well, if you're sure… I'll make a little chicken coop in here anyways for you! So you can feed on them until I can get a bigger source… I doubt chicken give you as much blood as a–"

"Drift, darling, it is perfectly fine." He pressed a clawed finger to her lips. "I appreciate the sentiment. Truly."

She grinned.

"I understand, however, that you all may have things to do at this moment in time. This was rather unprecedented and surely quite unexpected for you all." Scott gestured to them all. "I will be fine here. I would like a bit of time to… recuperate, to think and spend a little time to myself. This was… what was the word Shelby used? Overwhelming."

Marm opened her mouth to speak, but Drift lifted an arm. "It's okay, we'll give you some space! Holler if you need me, yeah? I'll probably stick around the island."

Scott nodded. He waved, watching the three leave. Avid and Drift kept glancing back at him, Drift especially.

Clearly, she held much affection and care for the other version of him.

He could possibly use that to his advantage, to get what he wants in this strange world of theirs. He does not want to hurt her, though.

He just needs a little time.

Chapter Text

Scott tried to settle into this… lab?

He wasn't sure. Despite all his time with the others in the Oasis, he's never gotten used to other typical person things. He was still getting adjusted to things. Learning words and new places, as embarrassed as he was to admit it sometimes. In his defense, they don't even use Galactican down here on Earth other than those old enchantment books and the table, and things look different here! They have kind-of-labs back home, but they don't look like the one he's currently stood in.

He watched the other rat– Scotty, what they called him– fumble through a good number of ingredients and toss them into a crucible one by one. It was rather mesmerising, the method the rat used for potions compared to the ones he can recall Tubbo using.

Tubbo had started showing off a potion brewing set up he had made, complete with a pristine brewing stand (short lived, accidentally broken by Tommy when a few too many feathers fell in) and a plethora (is he using that word right?) of different ingredients. (Too many ingredients if you asked him– he knows very little about potions but he really doesn't think there's a potion out there that uses bricks.) He made a good number of different potions and had set up a stall to sell them (Scott would get them for free some days, particularly days Tubbo'd blown him up or Scott helped him out).

"Oh! Are you hungry?" Scotty suddenly whipped around, pressing small (or Sneeg-sized– or… him sized now) egg sandwiches into his hands. "Here! Don't ask where I got the eggs. I'll try to work on a potion that brings you back home, promise!"

Scott blinked. "Thank you! I– Um. I won't, I guess?"

Scott couldn't help but lean over the white rat's shoulder. He was dropping various items like a spider's eye, blaze powder, and gunpowder (where did a rat get that much gunpowder?!) into what Scotty called a crucible, using a little wooden spoon to stir the water inside. It went from an ordinary clear to a silver, then an orange, and it continued to bubble.

"Alright, that's enough o' that!"

A blonde barrelled in, fur (kind of like hair) failing to be held back by a black headband.

"Martyn," Scotty started, frowning as he dipped two bottles into the crucible, filling them (and possibly burning his paws… unless he's a freak like Tubbo where he can just stick his hand into fire to casually "test the temperature") with the new mysterious potion. "I'm busy here."

"Yeah, and I need to talk to you." Martyn stage whispered, gesturing very obviously at Scott. He immediately whipped around to face the starborne (Scott couldn't help but think about how strange this man is– did he really think Scott couldn't hear it or he knew and just didn't care? He could consider either option as plausible) and began to push him up the stairs and out of the drawer that the white rat's home resided in. "Hey, starboy, go look around or somethin'. Maybe you could visit the gallery– Just over there!"

Before Scott could answer, he was very forcefully pushed off of the ledge, leaving him to crash face first on the ground. It's not like it was the worst feeling, but it still hurt. Scott got up, rubbing his face with a pout.

"Are you alright?"

He froze.

He peeked through his fingers, eyes locking with the source of the voice.

It was different from the other rat, the one with dark brown fur at the top of his head and goggles. This had lighter, slightly redder fur (but still brown) who seemed far more active than the other.

…

Did everyone just have that voice?

The same one that tormented him?

The one that taunted him? Made him think he was abandoned? Left alone?

Just like he always had been?

There was a reason why he never tried to sleep. He claimed to have been forever unable to sleep due to being a starborne– that wasn't the complete truth. They don't need it to function, but it's good for them to (especially on nights where the stars are hidden away, blocked by clouds).

He was always afraid that they'd leave him behind.

Some nights he believed they would.

…that's beside the point.

"Hello?"

Right.

"Yes, I–" Scott swallowed, trying to steady his voice. He didn't want that voice to win. "I'm alright. That blonde one just shoved me off. Kicked me out of Scotty's place. Told me to go to the gallery."

"Oh. Well, that's a shame, I guess," the rat shrugged. "The gallery's a real nice place though! There's this rat named El– she made all those paintings herself. You should go check it out!"

A gallery? All hand (or, well, paw) painted? That seemed… nice. Somewhere quiet where he could calm himself. Where he could ground himself after being reminded of that nightmare not once, but twice today.

Seemed like Scott had something to keep himself busy, at least for today.

"Alright, what is it, Martyn?" Scotty deadpanned, wiping his hands off on a colourful towel.

Martyn paced a bit. He came in here so confident about his decision in just outright telling him, but really… okay.

He told himself that if he could tell anyone about this whole datastream thing, it would be either Ren or Scott.

Ren was obvious. His king, and Martyn was his hand. They seemed to follow each other in every universe they were in together.

Scott was… well. It wasn't so much of the fact they got along all the time (honestly, they were usually at each other's throats if anything, being on opposing sides of the fight in most worlds) but it was more so the fact that Scott was everywhere. The others were reused too, but never as much as that Scott has. In the Life Series games, Rats, Pity, the Faction Isles, the most consistent thing may have just been Scott and his annoying overwhelming loyalty. Maybe Scott was some form of Datastream Defender like he was. Or a C.H.E.S.T. agent, or them trying to mess with his mind. That would be really bad for him if he was.

This Rats game was honestly kind of strange, suddenly having doubles of a good number of people, Scott included. Martyn's never seen anything like it in other games. Repetitive use of NPC models and names, yeah, but never in the same game!

Nevertheless, Scotty was still a Scott.

He hoped.

Frankly, he would have never even begun to have told anyone about the datastream and him actually being a missing person stuck in what's basically the big wide web. But Doc let him know that this whole swapping of NPCs might mess everything up in the game, and even maybe alert C.H.E.S.T. to where he's been. It (like the volcano) sent out a shock, the moment they got swapped around. Maybe even bigger.

Which was, notably, seconds after the exact moment Scott had drunk the potion. Might be a stretch, but Martyn reckons that it wasn't the potion to have done it. It might have been some external force or something from another game or… something. Doc's still trying to figure it out, from what he's last heard.

The weirdest part may have been the fact that it was the first time a shock came from that. They've had two people allegedly travel universes, being the crow Phil, as well as Sneeg, but neither of them managed to alert Doc. This one did, for some unknown reason.

"Listen. That Scott– Right?" Martyn began, combing a paw through his fur.

Scotty turned. "I'm listening."

"I don't think your potion caused this whole… swap."

The potion rat dropped the rag in his hand. "Thank you! I've been saying this, and so has Mila, but nobody believes me! Your Owen's been the one most adamant about it!"

Scotty's smile faltered when he saw the seriousness on Martyn's face.

"But, I also don't know what caused it." Martyn continued, pressing his paws together. "I know a guy who could help figure it out. You need to promise not to tell anyone…"

Scotty looked around and nodded.

Surely telling an NPC (??) won't be a huge mistake, right?

…Doc's gonna be so mad at him.

── .✦

In four, hold seven, out eight.

In four, hold seven, out eight.

In four, hold seven, out eight.

Scott did his best to keep that in mind as the avian kneeling in front of him scrolled through his own (battered, beat up) communicator. He needs to stay calm. This avian has friends he's worried about. He thought that only the twelve in the House Blossom Alliance, alongside the residents of the Grimlands, had access to those communicators. They were made by Count Fwhip, and he didn't teach many of his people how they were made, so very few were made per month.

He ran his fingers through his frosted, frozen wings. He missed when they were still downy and soft. He missed the time where he didn't have to worry about ice magic. About being Aeor's champion. About Xo–

In four, hold seven, out eight.

Don't think about them.

In four, hold seven, out eight.

They can't reach you anymore.

In four, hold seven, out eight.

Just keep doing the breathing that the kind avian taught him.

That avian was too kind to a monster like him.

In four, hold seven, out eight.

Scott should just run away. That makes you a coward. He should run, so he can't hurt anyone el–

"Hey, mate?"

The voice cut through his thoughts, and he forced himself to focus on him. Don't hurt him again. Scott let out a little noise of acknowledgement.

"Are you feelin' better now?" The avian tried to offer a small smile. Scott nodded. "That's good."

"Where am I." Scott croaked out, looking up at him.

In four, hold seven, out eight.

Scott swallowed, continuing, "…and who are you?"

"You're in the Oasis, mate. You're actually in our friend's house– he's a starborne. Hence all the purple and crystals."

Starborne? Those things are… powerful. Almost like gods, at least to them.

"And I'm Phil." He outstretched a hand again– did he not learn from last time, when he–

In four, hold seven, out eight.

Scott stared at the hand. He looked away. "I'm sorry. I don't know where your friend is." It was also rather bold to give a fae a true name. He didn't usually refer to himself as such, he still was one by technicality as an elf.

Phil's wings fluffed as his brows furrowed. "I mean, I figure he's probably wherever you came from, right? Since you're from another world and all."

…what?

In four, hold seven, out eight.

His mind has been quiet (or as quiet as it can be with his own thoughts) since he arrived. He hasn't heard or felt Aeor at all since waking up here.

He feels… weird.

Free! He feels free. For the first time in decades. No eyes on his back, no judgement, no council looming over his fucking shoulder. He could just be whoever he wanted to be and he wouldn't have to be forced to think about what Aeor would want of him, or what his parents would want.

He feels anxious. He's left the world alone in what could still be an eternal winter, this time without the source. He left Xornoth behind. He left the crystal behind even before his exile. He fucked up– what– No. Nobody would be foolish enough to try and grab the crystal.

In four, hold seven, out eight.

"I hope he can handle the cold, then," was all he could muster. Upon seeing Phil's confused expression, Scott quickly clarified that he was in the middle of a barren ice spikes biome at the start of an eternal winter that he started by accident because of powers from his god.

Phil hums. "I'm sure he can, since he's from the vacuum of space and all. I'm just mainly worried about him being all alone…"

Scott pursed his lips. "I was alone… but, er, maybe someone found him? I did leave without telling anyone. I'm sure there's at least one person who would search for a missing king."

He blinked at the avian, whose eyes were about as wide as that ocean orb he gave to Shadowlady a while back.

Was the starborne not acting like a royal here?

…he understands why. Everyone is so kind here. He already feels like he's being taken care of by this man and he was a stranger who froze him to the ground. It's like a father he never had. Not that he would admit this aloud, but it was a nice feeling to have. A nice thought to think for the first time in his life.

"King?"

"I ruled a kingdom called Rivendell, back where I come from," Scott explained. "N-Not that I want you to treat me like a king. I think… being treated like a friend is…"

Phil frowned. "Do people not treat you like a friend? Or– Do you not have, like, ruler friends or whatever?"

Scott shrugged. "I'm sure the only ones I did have–" The girls. Fuck– Gem. "–wouldn't consider me their friends anymore. After everything I did, it felt nice to have someone care."

Phil decided he would unpack all that later. As much as he wanted to help, he knew it would probably be too soon to push. It would be better to let him open up on his own.

He tried to, at the very least, piece together what he did know.

This Scott was a king, and he had some sort of connection to the kingdom's god that managed to make him all traumatised and fucked up. This Scott had ice magic that was apparently linked to this eternal winter, and he had friends but had also apparently done something (maybe he froze someone to death?) to make him believe that they would hate him after whatever it was.

So basically: Sad and afraid hybrid with a past that will torment him for most, if not all, of his life.

That sounded about right for someone in the Oasis. Nobody, knowingly or not, came to a hidden sanctuary for hybrids unless they went through something.

He was glad that that "eternal winter" didn't follow Scott through to the Oasis, though. While everyone made it safely to somewhere warm, some of them struggled to stay warm or warm up enough to feel comfortable until Phil had finally calmed him down. If that eternal winter came with Scott, Phil doubts the others would have made it if they chose to stay in this safe haven.

He's going to have to make sure nobody decides to say this in front of Scott, who is still very emotionally prone and compromised and still clearly trying to stay calm with the breathing exercise. It's been working so far, but his panicking is coming from himself. If it was to be "confirmed" in any way by the others, he knows it would get far worse.

He looked at Scott. He was threading his fingers through his wings again. It took everything in Phil's power not to flinch or grimace as the reminder of how gross those wings were slapped him in the face. They were unkempt and neglected, frazzled and sad.

Phil shook his head, pulling out his comm. No new messages, at least, no new important messages. It was just Tommy yelling at Jack for… whatever reason.

Now he just had two options for what he could do–

Leave Scott here and check on everyone in the Pube, possibly risking leaving Scott to spiral again. He knows that the starborne Scott was starting to spiral, based on the way Sneeg told him that Scott had been asking if he would be left behind or if he was being useful or liked. It was possible this Scott was at least similar, if not the same with abandonment.

Or, he could postpone the check in and preen Scott. This could have everyone worried and panic (and end up scaring Scott when coming to check on Phil) because Phil wouldn't be able to respond if he's too focused on Scott's wings. Scott might also be made uncomfortable– he understands why, considering the whole thing of preening being reserved for family and lovers and courting and whatnot. Phil considered everyone in the Oasis family, including this version of Scott (because it was still Scott) which made him pretty comfortable with doing things like preening. Still, he didn't want to make Scott uncomfortable, but preening could also possibly be a way to calm Scott. Scott seemed to (try to) preen himself in an attempt to soothe himself anyway. Maybe a proper preening could…

The pros already outweighed the pros of the other option. He's just going to try.

"Hey, Scott?"

Scott didn't look at him, eyes focused on his own wings. He didn't seem happy with the look of them either. "Mm."

"Mate, do you want me to help with your wings?" He gestured to the sorry state of them. "Just as friends. Or family, if you will."

Scott blinked, gaze finally landing on him. He glanced at his wings, a possible reminder of the mental state he was in earlier (and possibly still is in now) and then at Phil. God, please don't be grossed out. That is not the intention.

The corners of his lips twitched upwards, just the slightest. "Okay."

Oh, thank god.

Chapter Text

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

Jimmy's foot was tapping repeatedly on the wood floor of the bakery. The fragrance of freshly baked bread (and… chocolate?) flourished through the room, and it really did help calm him on his worst days.

This wouldn't be one of his worst days, but it would be a nominee for one.

"Welcome to the bakery, Sheriff!" The scruffy reptile hybrid at the counter waved, grinning. Fangs peered out of his mouth, lightly poking at his own lips. He faltered as his eyes landed on the redhead next to him. "And… sh-sheriff? Sorry– Welcome, Sheriff and Sheriff!"

Jimmy raised a brow. He glanced at 'Scott', who bore his own sheriff's badge. Glinting under the light, it was a little dingy and scuffed. It looked old, unlike Jimmy's own clean and shiny badge.

Scott tipped his hat. "Howdy."

"I'm just showing him around," Jimmy huffed. "Princess Katherine's orders. He's…"

Jimmy groaned.

"He's staying here until Shelby– you know her– and her witch friends can figure out what went wrong."

"Oh! Well, welcome to Tumble Town, sir!" The boy leapt over the counter, grabbing Scott's hand and shaking it vigorously. "I hope you enjoy your stay here! Oh, please, pick out some bakes to take with ya!"

Scott seemed a little flustered (always strange to think of Scott as frazzled) as his eyes darted around the display shelf. Jimmy can't believe he let himself be talked into this.

"I do not mean to intrude, but where am I stayin'?"

Everyone went quiet.

Sausage, however, was very quick to raise his hand. "Ooh, ooh! Me!" He grinned. "Sanctuary would be very happy to help! We'll make sure you're super comfor–"

"I appreciate it but I would rather not," Scott grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck. "You've got the face of a troublemaker, Mr. Sausage."

"What do you–" "He's from another world," Gem pointed out, deadpan, covering Sausage's mouth. "You're probably a criminal in that world."

Honestly? Jimmy can see it. Sausage already causes him this much trouble and he's not a horrible guy!

Scott nodded. "One of the main troublemakers. You may have redeemed yourself, but I'm still wary. I dunno how similar you are to him, but I would rather keep my distance."

"I assume that my and Shelby's areas will be off limits," Pix spoke up, hand lifted. "I'll also likely be away to try to help Shelby in her endeavours. I'm sure there's at least one book out there that could help."

Katherine smiled, nodding. "She's over at Chromia, I believe, probably to keep an eye on Owen." She looked around. "Anyone else? I'd love to be able to help you, Sheriff Scott, but I think Shelby's gonna eventually call me and I don't want to have to leave you here alone."

"Well, if that guy is a sheriff, I don't think I want him in my kingdom." Joey crossed his arms, turning his face away.

So Joey doesn't want Scott but he wants Jimmy? Is everyone just out for him in this place? Jimmy couldn't help but shudder at the flashbacks of Joey in that cell. He preferred his (as in their world's, not him claiming Scott as his) Scott's flirting. Not because he liked it. It was just less weird.

Stop that. He does not like Scott flirting, but he would rather that than Joey. Scott was, at least, very respectful and family friendly (he asked for handcuffs in that way, in what way is that family friendly) unlike Joey (honestly he was just annoying).

"You seem like a problem," The 'Sheriff' Scott deadpanned. "Worse than Sausage. And I knew him in a past life."

Joey gasped, offended.

"What about Tumble Town?"

What.

WHAT?!

Jimmy's head whipped to look at Fwhip. Fwhip, who stood on his chair to look taller. He looked unamused.

"What? Was I the only one thinking it?" He frowned. "Come on! Hear me out! He's… a sheriff! And what is Jimmy? A sheriff! They already have two of them there? What's one more?"

"I dunno… don't you think that's, like, too many sheriffs in a town?" Lizzie tilted her head, paws (hands) splayed across the table. "Like, too many chefs in a kitchen!"

Fwhip shrugged. "I mean, I'm sure that this Sheriff isn't all that pressed about being in charge!"

"I… really am not," Scott sighed. "I needed a break since this whole…" He waved his hand around a little. "…situation, back in Pity. Never got one. I'd like to have one now, even with this whole issue."

Katherine clapped her hands together, sighing in relief. "That settles it then!"

"Sheriff Scott, you're staying in Tumble Town with Jimmy!"

Jimmy didn't even get a say in the matter. That was the worst part of it all; if they had maybe just… asked him directly, he would have been more fine with it, probably!

Scott was still looking around the town, tipping his hat at whoever waved or stared. He'd flash a small smile at an older lady, or he'd kneel to pat the dust off a kid's scraped knee. He was able to win the hearts of his people already.

Jimmy didn't know how they did it. The Old Sheriff already managed to get a ton of respect, but Jimmy could get why. He wasn't the best– he kind of caused more chaos than Jimmy did somehow– but he was charming. He was charismatic, and he could win the people over with his smile and his energy. Jimmy has tried. He's tried and tried to be kind and funny and they all laugh at him, not with him. He tried to be intimidating and put his foot down like the Old Sheriff did too– he was laughed at even harder.

This Scott was… well, he was kind, but he didn't have what the Old Sheriff seemed to have. He wasn't super energetic or all that outgoing. He was just… polite? Calm. He didn't seem to tolerate nonsense. Jimmy got this guy even less as he thought longer about it. He didn't do anything to command any respect at all, but he still got it!

Maybe it was the fact he didn't try. Maybe it made him seem less pathetic, that he seemed to focus on nothing but his job.

He'd ask how he did it later if it ever got to that point.

Scott's voice, with that damned western drawl, cut through his thoughts.

"I have a small question, if you do not mind."

He glanced at Scott. "What is it?"

"How come they don't call you Sheriff?" Scott raised a brow. What? "I don't mean your people, I mean your peers."

Jimmy's brows furrowed. "What do you mean? They're my friends."

"You might be on equal standin' with them, but you still oughta respect their titles, yeah?" He tilted his head. "You respect their titles. You called the Princess by her title. By the way they talk about you as if you ain't even in the room, it was almost like they don't respect you."

Jimmy's shoulders rose. He huffed. Picked up the pace.

Scott stopped walking, crossing his arms. "I apologise if it's a little… personal or disrespectful for me to say things like this. I was just a tad concerned."

Concerned?

Jimmy groaned loudly, throwing his hat on the ground.

"They always disrespect me!" He snapped. "I try to be nice, and they take advantage of it and shrink me down into a freaking toy! I try to be confident and they immediately shoot me down. Anything I do to try and show I have authority, because I do, they just laugh at me and make fun of me until I leave!"

Scott stared, eyes wide, a foot slid back as though he'd flinched backwards.

"I don't know what I did wrong, but one day they all just woke up and decided, 'oh, let's make fun of Jimmy and dehumanise him and call him a toy!'" His eyes burned. The corners of his lips forced themselves downwards. "I don't know what I did to them."

"Sheriff."

A pang against his chest. Rarely anyone actually called him that, let alone like that.

"It sounds like the problem is them, if they started doin' it with no good reason."

"They're my friends." He huffed.

Scott put a hand on his hip. "Don't sound like they're very good ones."

They stared at each other for a long time. Scott's gaze was focused, his brows were furrowed. It was almost like he had genuine wrinkles from it, from how often he made that serious stare, as though challenging whoever they landed on. Notably not even the slightest smile lines (did he not smile enough? Laugh enough?) but it kind of made sense, with how young he seemed as a whole, to not warrant any sort of wrinkling or lines (but he had faint wrinkles on his brows and forehead). Not that young, Jimmy reckoned he was around his mid 20s, but Jimmy felt he was older than him, even if by a few years.

Maybe he was crazy, but he could feel a twinge of concern come from the otherworldly sheriff.

"Mind continuin' the tour?" Scott spoke up, tilting his head. Jimmy jolted, cheeks flushing pink. Maybe it was only him who was staring. That's embarrassing.

"Right. Let's go."

── .✦

"Welcome to the Codlands!"

The taller man put Scott down onto the ground gently, his elytra tucking back in against his armour.

"This place is a lot warmer than Rivendell," the Codfather gestured around. "Hopefully good enough to warm you up, but not too hot to kind of make you super stuffy and uncomfy."

Scott nodded. "It's… pretty."

He meant it.

Scott couldn't help but marvel at the place. It was humble and small, but he liked that. It felt like a more… bland version of his own kingdom. Spruce wood, spruce walls, bits of slime scattered across the land. It would usually be gross, but it added to the empire's character. It shined under the light, and it added a pleasant pop of vibrancy to the place.

There was no way he meant that.

Jimmy really thought he made a mistake letting him come here, but this was Smajor.

Yes, Gem told him this was another version of Smajor. This wasn't his own Smajor. He was brought here unwillingly due to a spell that went wrong. This one was, according to Gem, a traveller and collector who ended up bringing up his own empire in the future. His own Smajor might apparently be in the colourful Smajor's kingdom, which was (according to Gem again) a stark contrast to Rivendell. Chromia, what the human called it, was a village-like area full of colour and was planted in the middle of a plains biome.

He expected a laugh or a grimace, like his own Smajor. It would have made sense for anyone. His empire was hardly an empire. It was a small and feeble village. It was gross to others. It smelled of cod, which was only fine with merfolk like himself or Lizzie.

It felt like only the people of the Cod Empire saw the beauty of the swamp, and that's just because they've lived here so long they could pick the best things about it.

The hesitation in Smajor's voice made it more obvious.

"You can be honest," Jimmy sighed, crossing his arms. "It's not the prettiest sight."

"No, no, it's really nice!" Smajor insisted, looking around. "It's a little small but it's cozy! The spruce all works well with the swamp's grass and water, instead of standing out and feeling out of place."

He poked at a little blob of slime that was splayed across a wall. "I thought the slime was weird, at first. It's pretty though– it feels like liquid crystal in a way, with the way it reflects and takes in light…" He glanced around. "It stands out well against the spruce but it still all works together in the end. And it's a wonderful splash of colour that fits wonderfully for a swamp!"

Huh.

He never had someone describe the swamp as pretty, or the slime like crystal, but it gave him an ego boost that might lead to Joel later humbling him to take him down a peg.

"Thank you!" Jimmy beamed at Smajor, glad that his codhead hid both his wide grin and his reddened cheeks.

He could get used to this Smajor. He was kind and sweet.

Though, the other Smajor was kind and sweet too, especially during that date. The– oh cod the date. The–

Now is not the time.

"This is a cute place, though. Really," Smajor smiled up (weird thing to say, since Smajor was always taller than him) at Jimmy. Cods, he's kind of cute. "Show me around? Your highness."

He curtsied, picking up the bicoloured ends of his jacket. A teasing grin made its way onto Smajor's face, the kind that always led to a flush of pink on the cod's cheeks that made him ever more grateful for the codhead that hid away his face.

Is he really that bad for Smajor? He's not ready to face the relentless teasing from his sister over it if she found out.

"It's– It's Codfather, but–" He cleared his throat. "Sure! Hope you don't mind the mud, then!" Jimmy stumbled, dragging Smajor along with a grin.

If the empire was beautiful, then the people (and the masked ruler) were divine.

He always found merfolk to be beautiful– it was likely why they were often mistaken for and generalised as sirens. The glistening scales, colourful eyes, semi-opaque fins and membranes, sharp teeth (okay, so sue him) and all of that simply worked together to make a beautiful image.

Really, all species had their own perks and factors that made them stand out and shine, especially if you knew how to manipulate them to make you glow.

There was an array of colour in the town, subtle and almost invisible. But when the sun hit just right, or when the water dripped and refracted the light in a way, he could see the different undertones, the multicoloured glints of their scales, that set them all apart from each other. The way they interacted with each other was also heartwarming. People here seemed to wear their hearts on their sleeves, smiling and radiant. They played and laughed and were close. They didn't seem to care who was looking or judging, simply sharing crafts and trading or gossip. They were friendly in a way that reminded him of the hospitality and love that emanated from Sanctuary.

To put it simply: the Codlands were stunning.

He couldn't help but admit the Codfather was just as beautiful. Sure, the cod head was… less than flattering. He'll be blunt: it might be the absolute worst thing he has ever actually seen. It looked like an actual fish head– he wouldn't be surprised if it actually was. It was glossy in a bad, slimy way. But the gentle voice (he swears that's Jimmy's voice, but he won't try to undermine an emperor) paired with those muscular arms and chest (the armour really doesn't cover much, though he assumes he took off most of it since there really isn't any massive threat around right now) and the scales just made him divine. Imagining Jimmy's face under there (with gills and fins) didn't make it weird– it just flustered him further. He opted to figure out what that meant about himself later.

"Hi sir!"

Scott whipped around, startled by the high pitched voice. A small girl, who couldn't be any more than 10 in human years, stared up at him with big eyes. "Are you Mr Codfather's new friend?"

He glanced at the man in question, then back at her. He kneels down, making sure the ends of his coat don't touch the grass (he loves the beauty of this place, yeah, and he may be an adventurer, but he still doesn't want dirt on his clothes! He just washed this thing) to reach her level. "Yes, I am. I'm Scott!"

She gasped. "You're so pretty!" She beamed, hands behind her back. She fumbled a little, before presenting a flower crown made of what Scott's sure is swamp milkweed. "Here! Welcome to the Codlands!"

His heart melted. He always joked about hating kids (especially after Fwhip's weird little rule…) but god, they were adorable when they weren't being menaces. He took the crown daintily, settling it over his fedora. "Thank you so much! What a pretty flower crown!"

He cringed internally– wow, he doesn't know how to talk to kids.

It seemed to be fine, considering her smile just widened further. She giggled as she gave the Codfather a high five, before skipping off to who knows where. Her friends, or her family, or to collect more wildflowers. He gently adjusted the crown as he got back up, glancing back at the– he looked away. He admires the Codfather greatly, but he does not want to lock eyes with those big dead eyes of that stupid slimy codhead.

"So, about that tour?"

── .✦

"Moonlight?"

His brows furrowed. He loved his husband, but he loved sleep just a bit more. Mainly because that meant he didn't have to get out of his husband's arms.

"Scott."

He grumbled. "Sleeping…"

Milo let out a soft chuckle, as beautiful and warm as the sunrise. "Moonlight, I just wanted to ask, and I'll let you go back to sleep."

Scott pried one eye open, trying to make it very clear he wasn't happy about having to be woken up. He couldn't keep up the glare, though, as Milo's soft smile broke through that act. It always did.

"Did you bring your communicator… thing?" Milo chuckled. "I know you said you wanted to bring it in case there was an emergency. I thought I'd have heard it… y'know, buzzing by now, knowing your friends."

Scott hummed. "Don't think so. Doesn't matter. They'll be fine."

"You sure?"

"Don't stress me out."

Another laugh. A symphony to his ears. "Alright, moonlight. Go back to bed."

He's only gone for a month. His friends are competent enough.

What could go wrong?

Chapter Text

This man was… interesting.

Very interesting.

An explosives expert is something he never really saw, not at home, not in Skyblock…

But here, in a world with purely humans and no magic (beyond those weird blaster things)?

He was rather cute too. He didn't get his name, but hopefully it was something normal. Or, as normal as a name could be. He was human, though, so surely it isn't that weird.

"Oh, that guy? Yeah, that's Abolish."

He takes that back. Humans have incredibly weird names.

"Is he… taken?" Scott tilts his head. "I wouldn't wanna be a homewrecker."

He'd rather not recall the words shot at him when he'd spent a night with a taken man without knowing he had a wife. How was he supposed to know?! He was simply passing through town, he knew nobody from there.

El raised a brow. "I mean, no? I don't think he is, and he doesn't seem all that interested in romance anyways."

She paused. "He's interested in our Sheriff though. In a gay way."

"Sooo… I wouldn't get in trouble if I tried to charm him?" Scott blinked at her, fluttering his eyelashes at her.

El only looked confused, but a little unamused. "If the Sheriff were here, you might be complained about for harassment or something."

"Oh, boo."

He sighed, though he wasn't that mad about it. He would have done it to nick a few things from that Abolish fellow, so he would have probably gotten into trouble for it either way. At least he knew there wouldn't be repercussions in the relationships aspects. He'd hate to ruin that for someone.

Scott stayed slumped over the crate in front of him, eyes drifting across the landscape. He had managed to find nothing when he ran off; just a train station (he didn't want to leave, what if Drift shows up here too? He needs to make sure the others don't hurt her) and a mine. It seemed really empty… emptier than Doak 1's chests to be honest. And, he supposes, that vast forest and the hills and mountains counted for something. Didn't really mean much to him, especially now that he's been made aware;

Trees aren't as valuable around here anymore.

Which sucked. Now it was back to gold and silver and all that BS.

El sighed, a hand on her hip as she put her weight on one leg. "You know they'll come around to you if you just talk with 'em, right?"

. . .

"Scott." She frowned. He refused to respond to that.

People don't change how they see others. People aren't just like that. People rarely changed back home. He wasn't in that Skyblock Kingdoms place, where people were whimsical and had to change and had hearts full of love and kindness that ended up overwhelming him when he first arrived. He was back in a harsh, real world. People were solid on their beliefs. That's partially why he had to keep running; everyone thought tieflings like him were monsters. Drift was always nice to him, though. She was nice to everyone that was nice back.

"Come on, you're not the weirdest guy we've ever seen–"

"I'm a demon, El, they won't care if you've met aliens when I'm a demon to them." He deadpanned, glaring at her. He stood back up straight, tail curling, and schooled himself. Flashing her a lazy grin, he leaned against the wall. "It doesn't bother me anyhow! I don't really care. I kind of wasn't planning on giving this back anyways."

That was a lie.

Some days he joked he didn't need Drift, because she really did end up slowing him down (but he would never admit this, nor would he want to say this was the truth, because he loved her). He really needed her now. She would be talking them out of this already. She would have gotten all these things back to the people of this already pitiful poor town (not that he cared, honestly) and gotten them to get off of his back.

He missed Drift. Would it be selfish to say he wished she came with him?

A voice rang out– a very loud woman's voice. Calling for Eloise.

"El!" Bek ran up to her. "Whaddya doin' back here?"

El straightened up, surprised by the lack of a yelp from herself– wow, she was kinda getting better at not being spooked by the others.

This would be a perfect chance to get people to warm up to the Scott! One on one might work better, or one on two, or… you get the gist. If anyone would listen to El, it would be her own girlfriend. Obviously. And she knew Scott was lying about not caring. She knew him for less than a week but she could already tell he was nervous about being here, and really uncomfortable. Whenever he seemed proud his tail would be swaying and he'd stand straight with no cares in the world. Every time she found him behind Bek's house, though, his tail would be curled around his leg or drooped behind him, and he would often slump himself before immediately straightening. As if he was reminding himself to be confident. Not to mention, just after that first attempt of getting them to warm up to him…

"Oh! No, yeah, I'm fine. I'm not…" he scoffed, looking away, smirking. "I'm not sensitive about it or anything. Just don't like being disrespected."

"I don't know why you think I'm so sensitive about my horns and tail, I'm not."

Maybe tieflings weren't normal where he came from either. He may be used to it, but she could tell it bothered him. Pity bothered him too.

That wouldn't do.

"Well! I was actually talking to…" she trailed off, turning around to face the no-longer-there tiefling. "Where did he go?!"

Bek raised a brow.

"I swear, I'm not crazy! That– You know, that guy I brought in earlier? He's– He was just–"

"C'mon El, we're goin' to the saloon." Bek huffed, sweeping her up into her arms. "Clearly, that scoundrel has rustled you up!"

Unable to hide the pink rushing up her cheeks, she flailed in her stronger arms. "No, no! You got it all wrong! He's not bad!"

"The Pr– He thought Sausage was good and redeemable at first and Sausage went back to being a prude!" Bek retorted.

Right. The Preacher… he was still a sensitive subject– really, any of those four were a bit strange to ever bring up in town. Especially around the Sheriff. Is it weird to admit she kind of forgot? To be fair, she also tasked herself with tiefling babysitting.

Maybe don't dwell on that thought.

"Listen–" El finally got herself out of Bek's arms. She dusted herself off, and locked eyes with her partner. "I've spent a while with him on my own. His name is Scott, he has no idea how he got here, and he's doing things out of instinct and defense. He's nervous and uncomfortable."

"He stole from us!"

"And he's trying to give it back. But because you guys keep getting all defensive around him, he runs away because you all are scaring him!" She retorted, arms in the air.

Wow, she does not mean to refer to him like a (scared) wild animal.

He… kind of is, though. Acting like one. God, if he heard her say this then he'd be real cross with her.

Bek frowned. "Where is he now, then?"

"He's been refusing to see you guys again. I think he's all upset because–" She pokes her love's chest. "You all keep calling him a demon from hell! He isn't, by the way. I think he said he was just born like that."

Scott saw a lot of Drift in El, as she continued to defend her against who he assumed was her girlfriend.

Mainly in the way she defended him. Maybe it was just because very few people ever defended him at all, but it made him feel a bit safer.

El was a nice one.

His tail swayed, ring catching the sunlight and reflecting down onto the rooftop. He was almost intrigued with how sure she was that he was good. Obviously, he wasn't a monster. It was just weird to hear someone say that.

He got up from his spot on the roof, soft taps against the terracotta as he made his way to the other end, to the side facing the town.

He stiffened when he happened to lock eyes with that same handsome black-haired man in reds and blacks he'd seen earlier. A foot slid back, prepared to run for it if he pulled out that blaster of his once more.

Abolish (that's what El called him, he believes) only squinted at him, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the sunlight. Scott's tail curled further.

Scott reached into one of his pouches to produce a handful of diamonds and gold bits, kneeling down and getting as low as he could without leaving the rooftop.

Ugh. He honestly didn't want to give this back. This was so much money. But he also didn't want to get blasted at, and El was trying incredibly hard to get him a better reputation with the town. So he threw what he had down at Abolish, not really minding that some might get lost in the sand, and shook his hands to get the few gold ingots sticking to his hands. If one or two slid down his glove, he'd say he didn't notice.

Abolish only stared back, eyes widening ever so slightly. His gaze drifted from the pieces, then back to Scott, before moving to collect whatever he could find from the sand.

Scott left before Abolish could do anything about him, hopping to the next rooftop. Then the next.

…hey, if he threw a wink to the raven haired cowboy on his way back to the sheriff's office, he would very loudly agree that he did.

What were you expecting, him to not flirt? Girl, please.

── .✦

Scott would have likely done something productive by now.

If it were not for the fact everyone was unbearably nice to him.

He was, to be completely honest, getting hungry. He was so close to dropping down a stage.

For the past whole day, people have been visiting.

Drift, ever the sweetheart, kept poking her head in despite the countless amount of times he tried to shoo her away. She would keep coming in with bowls of blood. It was, frankly, a little distasteful to drink it out of a plain wooden bowl over a well made flask, but he supposed that it was the thought that made it count for something. She also made it rather clear she despised having to handle the liquid at all, but she did her best to hide it.

Marm and Avid had come in once or twice purely to question him. As much as he adored attention, he did not exactly enjoy all the poking and prodding. It reminded him far too much of the Avid he knew when he first arrived in town. Cute, but annoying when it went on for over an hour.

The Doctor, or another version of him, had flown in halfway through the second examination. He seemed mostly unaware of what was going on and claimed to be here to ask for a trade with him and Drift. It was, if he were to speak candidly for a moment, horribly unsettling to see him behave this kindly and amicably, and to Scott Goldsmith no less. He seemed to have zero resentments against nobles like himself, nor did he seem so hyperfocused on the "vampirism is a disease that must be cured" worldview that the Doctor had. Predictably, he still recoiled at the realisation that Scott was a vampire, but he was not as cruel as the people of Oakhurst had been. He had opted to call the man Legundo instead of the Doctor. This man was nothing like that… what would be a fitting word for that Doctor? Obstinate. This amicable man was barely like that obstinate Doctor who only seemed to get on his coven's nerves, particularly Owen's.

A blonde man in a toga (dear, what era was he from?!) and goggles with mismatched lenses had arrived at some point through the day, having heard word from Avid about something happening to him. He provided him with a stunning amount of raw meat (not the most filling, but– how did he GET this much?? Eating all of this might be the equivalent of getting the blood of everyone in Oakhurst) before calling him handsome and flying off with a similar wing-like contraption that the other three had.

A man that reminded Scott of the crypts had shown up as well. Realistically, he had barely any correlation to the crypts or the people who he made upkeep the one below his castle, but the man's dress had been monochrome. That dot of vibrant orange, created by the queer stone in the centre of his hat, called to mind the holy beacons. The most peculiar aspect of it was that it radiated a pleasant sense of dread, much like those that were desecrated, instead of the burning warmth from those consecrated beacons. Similarly to Legundo, he was here for a trade. He seemed rather charming, almost like a grifter or swindler was. He seemed rather friendly with Drift when they had run into each other just outside the tavern, though, but he only trusted him as far as Avid could throw him. He mentioned something about offering Scott some free resources though, claiming that they were good allies and so he was to "assist in this time of need". Sure. He will see the stranger to it.

He let himself indulge in some of the bowls of blood that Drift had handed him, finally relieved to be alone. It was not the cleanest, per se, but it would do. Delicately, he plucked out the stray feathers and the few barbs that came loose to ensure he did not get them trapped between his teeth. Scott considered, as he drank and felt the energy fill his corpse, that he could have just gouged himself on all of this food and not cared for the visitors, but he did not wish to make them uncomforta… hm.

Goodness, he has gone soft. What has being around Shelby and Avid and Drift done to him? It made him feel sick, just to think that he's grown considerate of others that he did not even know or care for. He was ripping himself open and baring his unbeating heart and still lungs for the coven, for these strangers to see. What sort of charm did those stupid humans– vampires, now– have? What kind of curse did those damned witches put on him? The mere concept of it all… he gagged.

He wiped at his mouth with a handkerchief from his pocket, as any polite noble would. Pulling the red-stained fabric away from his lips, he mused about his next actions. He was planning on simply hunting down some of these strangers– it seemed they could regenerate and come back, much like a vampire would. It would not hurt them much if he were to simply gouge himself on them; as much as he appreciated the free struggle-free meals, he far more preferred fresh, warm blood over the cold bloody meats or stale open bowls of blood. Not to mention, the feel of struggling, writhing limbs below his claws always filled him with such a thrill.

The coat covering his head. The instant offerings of food. The immediate acceptance he always yearned–

It would be a shame. He coughed, cleared his throat, even though there really was no point of doing either. It would be a complete waste if he were to have such a meal so quickly. If he let himself loose for even a day, he would lose all this valuable glass-like trust that the others have in him. He would not get all this free food, and if he were to commit any errors or offenses…

Well. If they trusted in him, they would attempt to excuse him as best as possible. They would believe him and take his side.

If he was to have them like him, they may assist in bringing him home. He could go back to helping his coven take over the beacons and allow them to finally rest. He could go and see what the true world has in store for him; 600 years is a lot to miss.

He had to ensure Avid held up on his end of the promise. He desired to see what these "trains" were. It would not be an enjoyable experience without Avid, or his girls.

Scott stretched his arms above his head, watching the sweltering sun begin to set. He could finally stop being pestered and smothered by that Drift every time he stepped out from the shadows of this winsome little tavern of theirs. He let himself transform into a bat and flew right out the moment the sun…

Hm. He had no clue where that blistering ball of hell vanished when the beautiful moon came up, but that did not matter to him.

It was not important to him, not at this moment.

What was rather relevant to him was the man (also in a toga, how strange) walking across the bridge. He appeared to almost be trying to… sneak across. Scott looked around, left and right, and could not perceive any of the original three he had initially met.

Scott reckoned he was a scoundrel.

Surely nobody would mind if he just swooped down…

…and he could not resist the urge as he swiftly shifted back to his humanoid form, sinking his fangs deep into the stranger's exposed throat.

He revelled in the sound of his scream, his fear. It has been so long since he had something like this– a delightful bit of prey who was not even fast enough to run. Who could only stand and writhe as he drained him of all his essence.

The body thudded against the dark oak as it dropped to the ground. Nobody would know unless they came out at night. He doubted anyone would know until it was too late.

The pickaxe clattered to the floor as she read her comm.

Cambam010 was drained by Sm̷̼͌a̴̗̎j̵̮̕or19̸͕̃95.

Drift paled at the sight.

Read it.

Read it again.

Maybe she shouldn't have left Scott all alone.

Chapter Text

Scott's hands shook around the mug.

It scorched his cold hands. He didn't care. He thought he deserved to feel at least a little pain for what he did to Gem.

He leaned back in his seat, sighing and letting the hot chocolate air blow back at his face. He wanted to ignore the sounds of people bickering and arguing; he knew it was all about him. Scott felt discomfort with the knowledge that they were so… riled up by someone like him. He felt worse and worse by the second. He felt awful that their peace was disrupted by him. He ruined things. He always ruined things.

"Hello?"

Scott jolted at the sound, and whipped his head around to face a floating pumpkin with a cutely carved face.

"Shrub?" He croaked out, wincing at how his voice sounded. He'd been quiet for the past two hours. It would only be one hour, if you consider his instinctive cooing and noise as him willingly making sound.

He did allow Phil to preen his wings, though. It was his fault. Not that he hated it, however. It was the calmest he has felt in… a while. A longer while than it should have been.

"Close!" She giggled, and the pumpkin moved as the cushions shifted. "I'm Shelby. Are you doing okay?"

He looked down at his mug. A warm brown, rippling ever so slightly as figures stomped and hopped around. Brown, like Shrub's. He inhaled the sweetness and felt the warmth graze his face, and for a moment, he felt like he was back in the Undergrove. Laughing, relaxing, feeling safe as he hid away from his advisors. He was sat at his table with the girls, jesting about what ridiculous quest Mythical had set for himself, or whatever foolish beliefs that the Mezalean King had openly shared to the world. He felt safe and loved in a way he thought he didn't deserve. Not after what he did. He yearned to sit at one of those tables again, just to laugh and joke his hours away, ignoring when the time would come for his council to belittle him for simply wanting a day to relax from the strenuous tasks they piled onto him.

Was being the champion of Rivendell's God not enough for them?

"Could be better." Was what Scott settled on. His voice was quieter than he thought it was.

"You're not from here, right?" Shrub's– Shelby. Her voice was soft, matching his own volume. "That's probably stressed you out, huh?"

Scott shrugged. "When would something like that not?"

Shelby hummed. "I guess you're right! So…"

She pauses, before becoming visible. Soft, woolen yellow blouse, overalls, and familiar long brown hair.

"You have ice magic?" She tilted her head.

He winced. "Not… willingly…–"

"That's so cool!" Shelby beamed, leaning forward. "Y'know, nobody here has any ice powers, and I've not heard of any hybrids with ice magic before! I mean, it was kind of a startle when the blizzard came, but it was kinda fun!"

Scott stared at her. "…really?"

She nodded.

Phil couldn't stop his gaze from flickering. Scott, group, Scott, group, Scott, Shelby, group. He's felt the temperature spike every now and then, but it's lowered the moment Shelby started to make him smile.

Phil was glad to know Scott felt safe enough around Shelby. Shelby was always a ray of sunshine, and if anyone could melt through Scott's self-imposed ice walls, it would be her. It almost felt as though he recognised her, but he wouldn't question it. If it worked, it worked.

Just like the preening worked, which he was incredibly relieved for.

Phil shuddered violently. God, those wings were freezing!  He gently ran his hands over the surface of Scott's wings, careful not to nudge anything out of place.

He swallowed. He didn't want to mess anything up.

He didn't want to scare Scott.

Hands slipped between frosted feathers as he tried to brush dirt and grime out of Scott's wings. There was a shocking amount tucked below the wings, obscured by snow and ice.

"You can come to me anytime," Phil mumbled, as he cleaned these wings back to the pristine state they were meant to be in, "For as long as you're staying here."

Scott's wings only ruffled in response, before–

Warble. Coo.

Phil had to hold back his own coo as Scott visibly slouched forward much more. His ears (strange sight, really, but he was from another world. Who was Phil to judge?) twitched slightly, pointing down to the sheets they sat on.

For someone who never slept, Scott (the starborne) had incredibly comfortable bedding. When he returns, Phil might ask him what he did to get such a nice blanket.

Scott let out another coo. Phil tried to lean forward, catching a glimpse of a very relaxed face, eyes shut, pale cheeks tinted pink. It sent warmth through his chest, and a very familiar instinct he'd rather address the moment the starborne was able to return.

"You're safe. I got you," he muttered under his breath, as his finger knocked against a bent feather. "You're alright."

"-if he freezes us next?!" Tommy argued, crossing his arms. "Sure, Phil claims that he sounds like Scott, but who knows if we can really trust him? What if he's some weird fucked up mimic?!"

"Okay, Tom, calm down," Phil put a hand on his shoulder. "If he wanted us dead or hurt, he would have done it with the blizzard. He wouldn't have had a full blown panic attack if he was evil, and he definitely would be having one now if it weren't for Shelby chatting with him right now."

Everyone's gaze drifted to the two.

Scott was smiling, lifting his hand. A mist of snow drifted around his fingers, a small sculpture forming beneath them. It was a miniature Shelby, pumpkin nestled in her arms, in motion as though she was twirling.

She gasped. "Oh, Scott! That's so cute!"

"And it won't melt. Trust me. I've… tried." Scott sighed, picking it up and handing it to her.

Shelby cradled the figure in her palm, eyes wide and glossy.

Phil cleared his throat, drawing the group's attention back to him. "I think his ice magic wasn't something he wanted, and we shouldn't be attacking him for it. We should help him out, the best we can, yeah?"

"Where'd he come from again?" Sneeg spoke up, poking his head out from Tubbo's hair. "Something, something, river?"

"Rivendell, he'd mentioned he was the king of that place," Phil shrugged. "Don't reckon anyone's heard of that place?"

A chorus of nos and shaking heads seemed to confirm it.

He sighed. He leaned forward to discuss the plan; they simply accommodate him and take care of him. Ranboo, Aimsey, Phil, Jack, and Sneeg will be primarily in charge of figuring out how to get Scott back home, considering they all have some form of knowledge of travelling through dimensions in some shape or form. That would open up the possibilities of how Scott could have gotten here in the first place. While he trusts everyone to be capable of this, Shelby (which they'll tell her when Scott is busy with something or someone else) and Bek, and Aimsey if she wishes, will be mainly in charge of making Scott feel a lot more comfortable here in the Oasis. If anyone makes Scott incredibly uncomfortable, they're to be sent straight to Phil or Shelby to handle it. Not only does Phil simply want Scott to feel safe and alright, because who wouldn't, but also because making him panic more would only restart the blizzard. It could gravely worsen it from the first time too.

"They're talking about me." Scott mumbled, in response to Shelby's concerned question.

She still cradled the miniature her in her shivering hands. Scott tried to make her something beautiful and she was still hurting anyway. "I'm sure it's nothing bad!"

His magic was a curse. Did Aeor simply hate him? Even though he continued to call Scott his childe, his champion, the guardian of Rivendell, he still forced him to fight his brother in what turned out to be some sort of neverending feud. He forced him to succumb to pain as antlers grew out of his skull. He forced him to become the eternal winter and left him in the dark on how to deal with any of this.

"I disturbed your peace, Shelby," he retorted. The coffee began to freeze over. "It likely is."

Shelby opened her mouth to argue, only for Phil to clear his throat.

"Scott, we just wanted to let you know you can stay at our starborne's place until we're able to find your way back home, yeah?" He gave Scott a small smile. "And don't be afraid to talk to any of us."

Pity. The last thing he needed right now. He knew he appeared pathetic, but he didn't need it to be pressed into his face. It only made him feel worse.

"Sure," he curtly responded, frostbitten hands rubbing at the golden wrist cuffs he donned. "Okay."

── .✦

Scott had tuned out a lot of the conversations the three vampires had, blindly trailing behind them as they hopped through trees and across rivers.

He really just felt overwhelmed. Ignoring the overwhelming sense of dread that made things ten times worse, the fact that he got here in the first place somehow freaked him out. The fact he's with vampires who could so easily kill him freaked him out more than the cats. Maybe a bit more than the fungus too. He had versions of his friends here that sounded like his friends, but this Owen was mean. He wasn't as kind and joyful as the tinkerer that Scott grew to know and love (platonically, goodness, the amount of times he had to clarify that was too many to count).

"You really know how to put a stake in a guy, huh?" Avid joked, laughing nervously.

Another thing: Avid seemed to be really nervous. Pyro and Owen seemed… fine? Well, Owen was mean, but they didn't seem that hostile with Avid (unless this was some form of lie). Avid being nervous made Scott nervous. Why did Pyro and Owen seem confident? Was Avid just a nervous person? Did the two threaten Avid before Scott got here? It was messing with him.

The staking joke made Scott wince a little.

Also, the whole thing of them calling him Nott was messing with him. It was Scotty who would always get the nicknames, so hearing him get one for himself felt weird.

Eventually, they looped back around to the crypt and began opening up the wood that, for some reason, covered the staircase.

Scott didn't really understand what the whole beacon thing was about, but he knew it was important and that it affected the vampires. He yelped at the sight and depth of the pit, and watched as Avid–

Wait, wait, no–

Scott screamed as Avid's claws instinctively wrapped around his ankle, dragging him down with him. He didn't have his abilities as a rat anymore! He won't be able to sur–

Scott landed on Avid. His body ached, but he was fine. Avid, other than a slightly pained groan, seemed perfectly fine, after a quick check in and a very profuse apology. He watched Owen and Pyro (so one of the vampire abilities is being able to survive high drops? That kind of seems cool actually) drop down with them shortly afterwards.

"Are we digging this deeper?" Avid asked, though he was already beginning to dig it out anyway. (Why ask if you're just gonna do it?)

Owen nodded and tossed a pickaxe Scott's way. "Right now, it's not enough to kill them."

Scott began to help dig things out. He tried to stay on his own side, trying not to listen in too much. He didn't like how the conversation was going.

Owen was blocking out the ceiling.

Owen was blocking out the only escape route.

"–I don't think you have what it takes." Owen finished as he stared right at Avid, not even sparing a glance at Scott. It was like they forgot he was even there. Scott wasn't sure if he was relieved. (He wasn't.)

Pyro's head swivelled to look at the poor, cornered vampire. "You tried to slay me."

"You guys–"

"Tried to cut me up on that tree."

The roof got lower. Scott began to (as silently as possible) pick away at a few blocks behind his back, praying Owen nor Pyro turned to look at him.

They didn't.

They were too focused on Avid, like predators eyeing their prey.

"You guys–" Avid swallowed.

Scott felt around in his pockets– his axe. Of all the things that came with him, this was still on him.

He held off anyways. They wouldn't.

"You wouldn't."

Avid cried out as he felt Pyro's claws rip through him, breaking the silence. Owen's claws. Tearing, ripping, peeling away clothes and skin and flesh. Nott's gasp and whimper was barely picked up by his ears, drowned out by Avid's own pleas and cries for them to stop.

Why did they do this?

"No, wait, no–!'

They really didn't forgive him, did they?

"Please, no!"

Scott said he would be safe. Is this how it would end?

He watched Owen raise the stake with bloodstained hands, but not before one last cry escaped his lips.

Oh, Elle, I'm so sorry for everything.

The axe swung and fell before he could think, straight at Owen's throat. The vampire let out a garbled hiss, as he swiped back, but the stake didn't make its mark.

It pained him to hear Owen in pain, it really did, but he didn't want to watch them kill him.

He couldn't.

The attack was enough to startle Pyro, making them jerk backwards. Scott redirected his focus to only Owen.

He slashed at him again, across the chest this time. He grimaced at the sight, and the image of his best friend– even with a different face– staring down at him with nothing but pure malice and rage as blood poured down his throat, his chest, petrified him. It made him ache and want to cry in a way he hadn't since he first left the farm.

(Was that blood even his own? Scott could only wonder who this Owen could have taken it from, if he was so cruel as to try to kill Avid. Surely what Pyro claimed was only in the past.)

He kept swinging. Again, and again, and again, ignoring the swipes at his own arms. The warm red that dribbled down his sleeves. He slowed, stopped the moment he heard Owen's corpse thud against the ground. He– Vampires didn't– Vampires only died to a stake. Right? Right? He didn't just kill Owen. Owen would get back up, they're supposed to–

A chill went down his spine at the sight. He felt sick. He– He's dealt with injury and blood and death, but never something like this. He's killed bugs but they were just bugs, this– this was a sentient living being. He wanted to vomit.

He locked eyes with Pyro (those eyes, black instead of white with that sharp red, always kind of scared him) and swung at his wrist, cleanly cutting deep enough to make him hiss in pain and drop the stake in his hand. Again at his legs, red beginning to seep into his trousers as he kneeled from the hurt. Once more for– for good measure? For–

His heart raced. He could hear it in his own ears. He could barely breathe.

He hated the feeling of blood on his fur (skin), on his dungarees, on his paws (hands), it made him feel disgusting, he only felt reminded of when he hurt Owen–

Scott turned his head towards the reason he did this in the first place.

Avid. Slumped against the corner, crying, shaking, whimpering out the smallest apologies and pleads even now. He was bleeding from his arms, chest, everywhere at that point. Scott grabbed his wrist and ran.

Kept digging out the small tunnel he began to carve. He had to get out, he had to–

He felt Avid shift. From a slim, light vampire, he grew even lighter, a bat fitting perfectly in his paw. Palm. P–

He exhaled harshly and kept digging.

The small form in his pa– hand was shaking. It only drove him to keep moving, beginning to mine upwards to try and climb out. The act of mining served to distract from the red (both his and not his) that stained his flesh.

He needed to get out, quickly. He needed to get Avid back to the castle, he needed to stop the bleeding, he needed to get safe, get home, get to protection–

He kept digging.

Avid whimpered as Nott's grip on him tightened.

He thought he was dead, again. Fate seemed to love playing games with him. He thought he should be dead.

Nott saved him.

If it weren't for him, Avid would be dead, and for good this time. That voice made it clear that he only got one chance, and he almost ruined it.

He would have never gotten the chance to bury El's body. He would have never gotten to apologise for everything he did to those he hurt most, he would have never seen Shelby or Drift again, he would have never gotten reconciliation for that kiss–

A pathetic whine left his chapped lips when the sun broke through stone, cutting off his thoughts, exposed flesh sizzling beneath the light. He was so low on blood, he realised, as his wounds hadn't even begun to close. Cool shade relieved him, and he pried an eye open to see a calloused, muddy, bloody hand shielding him from the sun.

"Can you fly?" Nott whispered, voice as shaky as his hands. Avid didn't trust his voice nor his injured wings, the transformation having only exacerbated the wounds. He shook his head. "Okay. That's okay. Just direct me back to the castle, then."

He winced. No, no, he couldn't– Owen would wake up again and he would only be angrier, and all the vampires come back in the castle so he would be there waiting because he knows Avid would try to return. He shook his head vigorously, wincing at the throbbing pain and slight whiplash it caused.

"I won't let them hurt you," Nott muttered, like it was a promise. It was so weird, hearing a voice Avid associated with such a powerful figure be so soft and quiet and resolved with him. "Your friends might be at the castle. They can help better than I can. Direct me to the castle."

And so Avid did. He didn't have the strength nor will to argue with a Scott right now. Nott refused to let him avoid the castle, insisting it would be the best place for him. He wanted to agree, but only because everywhere else was worse for him. He didn't really have a choice.

The door swung open, revealing Cleo stood at the head of the table.

Her eyes widened as she locked eyes with Nott, a humble innocent farmer coated in blood, and then with Avid, scarred and wounded in ways he himself questioned how he survived it all.

Owen wasn't here.

"No time," Nott insisted, rushing to the long mahogany table, setting Avid down gently on it despite his haste. "Help him, please."

Avid couldn't focus as the cold glass of a bottle's rim, far too large for a little bat, pressed against his mouth. He felt fuzzy as he let the warm blood flow down his throat, wounds starting to seal. He felt warm. It still felt like his heart raced, his body still unused to the lack of a need for it.

He was alive. He was okay. He wasn't safe– it's grown far more dangerous for him now that he knows Owen and Pyro are among those that want him dead and are willing to act on it. But for now, he was still here, walking the earth.

That's all he could ever ask for.

Chapter Text

Scott was confident enough to say he was getting a hang of this!

It still felt a little disorienting, what with being incredibly small.

But the good news was his abilities still worked (just at a smaller scale).

He could still leap and shoot stars at people (he only did it once, and that was at that blonde rat who pushed him off of Scotty's house) and he could even teleport still! He could still remember how amazed the other rats were when he did it, teleporting out of a cage that someone jokingly trapped him in.

After a few days of being stuck in the attic to be questioned and experimented on, then a day of exploring the hotel, he had gotten kind of… sick.

Not being exposed to the sky for this long wasn't good for him.

His head spun, his limbs buzzed and ached, and before he knew it, he was slumped against a stair, sweating.

One of the other rats– Shelby, he learned, who so happened to be another version of the Shelby he knew– helped him up. She was really worried (which had him figure that alternate versions of friends are probably mostly the same as the original) about him, and when he told her his problem…

"Oh!" She perked up. "Y'know, there's a garden in the middle of the hotel! Come with me, it's got open skies and everything!"

Scott felt his cheeks warm when he learned that– really? He checked everywhere and he still somehow managed to miss the massive (well, massive for them) garden.

It was a nice garden, he had to admit. The night sky almost immediately made him feel rejuvenated, as though he just woke up from a pleasant dream, though he never fell asleep in the first place.

Especially not after that… night. But it isn't time to dwell on that, Scott.

Everyone was kind here, just like back home. It felt a bit overwhelming at first, just with how many rats lived here (and that's not even counting the humans and their occasional pets) but he's grown used to it. The size of the hotel helped with dispersing everyone around, so there weren't that many people in a place at once unless that Owen or Martyn or whoever decided to call all the rats for an event or situation.

It felt warm. It was nice, and he could get used to living here.

It only made him miss home even more.

He missed being able to tend to the crops and the field. He missed walking outside and seeing the different origins hanging out. He missed sneaking around Ranboo and Aimsey with a pumpkin on his head. He missed sitting in the Pube, sharing drinks and laughing with everyone. He missed sitting on the top of his mountain, feeling the energy of the night sky regenerate and relax him. He liked this community, but he missed his community.

It hurt his heart every time he sat in the garden late at night. Sometimes he would find himself drifting off and letting himself believe he was back on those hills, even if for a second.

"Scott!"

The voice jolted him out of his thoughts as he swivelled around. There was who the others called the "wide rat" (it seemed a bit mean to call them that, but they seem to take pride in their wide…ness, so he will too) donning their scarf that blew in the wind. Bek, he thinks. Behind her were a few others, including the rat (El?) that Bek constantly calls her wife. He knew her by the bun, a well made (though very paint stained– did she ever clean that properly?) paintbrush stabbed right through it.

He tried to keep track of how many rats there were with them. There was one that kind of smelled… really bad, and he was skinny (did he live in the trash? He has what looks like a trash can on his head). There was another in a slightly torn bright yellow vest, with strips of silver that seemed to shine. Another was taller, with a mask and cloak, the hood up making the black mask appear like a shadow. Really, there weren't many, but Scott hasn't taken the time to properly remember who everyone was. He didn't see these rats around much, other than the trash rat.

"You said you have powers, right?" Bek beamed, leaning forward. "Since you're some sorta star thing?"

"Starborne," Scott corrected gently. "And yes. I'm guessing you all want a demonstration?"

While a chorus of agreement arose from the rats, one (in the vest) crossed his arms and straightened up.

"They want to see your powers. I need to make sure everyone's being safe!" He boasted. "I am the Safety Rat, after all!"

He chuckled. This blonde rat was funny. "Sure. I'm pretty good with my powers anyway."

Scott paused, recalling the amount of times Bek became collateral. He winced.

"As long as nobody moves too much."

The self-proclaimed safety rat ushered everyone back slightly, turning around and outstretching his arms to act as a living barricade. It didn't work though, as the trash rat slinked under his arm and stood in front of him. After a slight tussle, everyone stood back, behind the blonde rat's arms, and watched as Scott outstretched his hand to the left and braced himself.

Another failed test. He hissed. It was getting on his nerves–

The pressure and the frustration.

Scott scribbled in his book. Another failure.

"It wasn't you," Martyn repeated, "Your potions couldn't have done it. It was something else. Like I said, Doc's figuring it out."

Scott kept stirring. He tried to recall the ingredients he used the first time. It was a strange amalgamation, one that realistically should have never been able to blend together in the first place. He couldn't remember the last time his potions shimmered like the starborne does. None of the mixtures he'd made shone that same purple-blue shade.

"Excuse you, my potions cannot rip into other worlds!" Scott finally ripped Owen's hands off of him, squeezing them. "I don't think dimension travel is even classified as alchemy, Owen. I don't think we can achieve that."

Martyn told him it wasn't his fault. It wasn't his doing.

"I don't think your potion caused this whole… swap."

Multiple times.

Scott groaned, scribbling out another hypothesis.

He believed it. He really wanted to believe it. He felt the pressure, the need to figure out how to replicate it anyway. Owen had set expectations on him.

He was furious– not at Scott, no, he knows Owen was stressed and he knows how nice the rat really is, it was likely just a spur of the moment– because his best friend was taken. The stress of it all was getting to him. It didn't help that Bek and El, while very visibly handling this better, were still incredibly worried. They often told Scott not to worry, not to rush and burn himself out because it could only cause harm, but the way they glanced at the farmer rat's area in the attic every night made him feel worse.

Whatever happened, he still caused it– started it, at least, even if his potion wasn't the one to make him disappear.

The information about that… datastream? It only made his brain fuzz harder.

The multiverse was something Scott found… interesting, sure, but not something he ever thought to be actually real or something to study. He doubted there was genuine information anyway.

And then Martyn brought it up.

"You need to promise not to tell anyone about what I'm going to tell you."

He looked around, and after confirming nobody was there, he nodded. He paused, and figured that Martyn might want a verbal answer.

"I won't," Scott stood straighter, putting a paw on his chest. "Swear on my heart."

"Promise me that you won't call me crazy either."

Scott scoffed. "I sent a human to space! We have a rat who tames cats! What could be crazier?"

"I'm not from this universe."

What.

"I'm this human guy from another world where you all are kind of just characters in video games to me?" Martyn continued, wincing slightly as he took in Scott's bewildered stare. "And I travel through different worlds, or games, like. Pretty often?"

"And–" Scott swallowed, smoothing his fur over with his paws, trying to soothe himself. "–Why are you telling me of all people? And why now?"

He shrugged. "This whole thing with that new Scott? The one that replaced our farmer? Yeah, that's why. It caused this… shockwave that I felt, at least, when he arrived.

It freaked me out a little, since it only ever happened once and that's when I was tampering with a god's will."

Scott gave him a look.

"Don't ask. Anyways, I spoke with you specifically because…" Martyn gestured as he trailed off. "There's a lot of you in the multiverse. Like, yeah, they reuse a couple people, like Timmy–" Safety rat, he reminds himself. "–and Owen and Apo, but–"

He poked at Scott's chest. "You are in every single world I've visited. Death game? You're there. A pirate? You're there. A rat? Not only are you here, but there's two of you! Not like you're the only one with duplicates in this world, but you're everywhere which makes it weird, considering the gods I know really don't like you."

Scott had no clue whether to take offense to that, or to allow the fear and nerves to crawl down his spine at the thought that he managed to annoy gods. He had no idea how to process this information in the first place!

And to think that farmer rat was supposed to be another version of himself?

…alternate universes, and he's consistent in every one that Martyn has visited.

What could that mean? Why was he so significant?

"Scott?"

Why did only farmer rat and the starborne get swapped? Or–

"Scott."

–did other versions of himself get swapped around in this one big chain? Why did his potion cause this, if it did? What if–

Scott coughed, feeling the vapour of the rapidly evaporating solution hit his face. This one was getting close to that vibrant purple, and he fumbled it. He grumbled, shoulders tense and rising.

He didn't know why he was doing this.

He knew it was useless; he agreed that it wasn't his fault.

The others still made it feel like it was.

He felt like he had to at least… prove it, though. Prove that his hypothesis is true, and that theirs is wrong. Show the evidence.

He sighed as he dropped in another ingredient, ready to restart the process.

Just show the evidence, and they'll leave you alone.

── .✦

This sheriff here was interesting.

Scott had only been here for… what, maybe a week?

He felt pity (no pun intended, he was far from the joking type) forming when he learned how poorly treated and respected the Sheriff of Tumble Town was. While he was never one to try and command respect from others– his daddy made it clear it was to be earned if he wanted to be a good sheriff, not forced from others– he could understand the feeling. When he first became sheriff, when he was still a young'un, barely anyone trusted him. He had to work for a year or two to do nothing but please and protect the town to have them put their faith in him after his daddy died. It stung even more every time they belittled him, because he knew each and every one of them personally, and they knew him. The name of the town also wasn't the most imposing, so compared to a Princess, he likely didn't seem as important. Scott wouldn't judge him on the name, it'd be hypocritical of him to do so, considering the name of his own town is Pity.

So when he heard this Sheriff fellow snap about how he didn't deserve to be ridiculed? He believed it. He felt bad. He noticed the way Tumble Town's sheriff seemed to be on the verge of tears.

But as the minutes went by, Scott started to put together the thoughts of why he might not have been respected in the way he wanted to be in the first place. They weren't the best reasons, and he could tell that Jimmy had the capacity for change if he realised what was wrong, but what had rung bells in his head was how harsh he'd been to some of the townsfolk.

"I'm just showing him around."

He didn't think much of it at first, especially because of the young boy and how delighted he was to shake his hand for whatever reason, but how he'd said it (and to that kind young boy no less) was rather harsh for someone who was nothing but curious. Scott had brushed it off initially as the Sheriff just being tense. There was an intruder in his town, and Scott would be a liar if he said he was relaxed when those newcomers came barrelling in, so he was in no place to judge.

What had irked him was the way this Sheriff would only grow harsh, almost defensive whenever someone addressed Scott as another sheriff. Or as anyone of authority. He would keep standing straighter and making his own stance broader every time it happened. The fletcher jokingly offered Scott a sheriff's discount, and the blonde immediately tried pushing him away. The bartender kept calling Scott "Young Sheriff", which had the Sheriff sputtering and insisting she didn't.

A sheriff shouldn't command respect, he had to earn it, just like his daddy said. The Sheriff of Tumble Town was commanding it, even if he never said it out loud, but the way he held himself made it clear to Scott.

That was why nobody gave him the respect he wanted. He wanted it too much, and he didn't do the right things to earn it.

"Hey, redhead?"

Scott shook his head, snapping himself out of his own thoughts. He glanced up to meet the gaze of the bartender– he never got her name (especially due to the Sheriff's own interruption about what she called her) but she seemed like a nice missus, the kind you wouldn't dare mess with– and raised a brow.

"Just makin' sure you can handle your liquor," She flashed him a grin, filling a glass with a bottle of whiskey. "Every sheriff I've met is a lightweight."

"Only two!" The Sheriff huffed, slamming his cup on the counter. "And the Old Sheriff is much worse!"

Old Sheriff? That must have been why she wanted to call him the Young Sheriff. Scott huffed, taking a sip.

"I can handle my liquor, alright." Scott lifted the glass slightly, before setting it down. "Old Sheriff, you say?"

He couldn't help but wonder…

"Yeah. He's a maniac and all, living in a cave for about 30 years and talking to his hat, but he's been tryna help me," Jimmy waved his hand, before he slouched a little, hunching over his cup. "Y'know, with the… respect thing, 'n all."

There it is. Scott assumed the Sheriff's own insecurity and defensiveness over his role was likely at the fault of the Old Sheriff, if he's been mentoring him. If he's as eccentric as Tumble Town's official Sheriff makes him out to be, he can't have been a good Sheriff. Charming, maybe, in the "he's kind of weird but in an interesting way," the kind of charming that Sausage or Poliver were. Barely bearable to be around, but not the kind of person you'd want in a position of power.

"Introduce me," Scott leaned back on his stool, looking at the Sheriff. "Tomorrow, when he's sober."

And before he's gotten the chance to meet this fellow, he's already started to regret considering helping.

── .✦

"He's not answering!" Eloise paced back and forth, before groaning. She threw herself down on her couch, letting her beat up communicator fall with her.

Cleo sighed, shaking their head, before turning to Shelby. "Sorry. We've tried everything to contact him. Might as well tell us in case we know how to help."

Shelby's heart raced as Cleo gave her this information. She glanced at Lauren, who was still spamming Scott's chat. Then at El, and back at Cleo.

She had come running to Scott's coven, hoping they could reach out to the supreme after he had ignored 10 (AKA all) of her calls. She really did try to reach out to him the moment she sent that sheriff guy away with Owen, and she's at least gotten news that he's going to be resting in Tumble Town.

"So, I might have swapped our Scott– like, Chromia Scott, the really colourful one with a lot of whimsy, not the Supreme Witch– with another Scott and I have no idea how to get him back."

All three heads swivelled immediately to look at her.

"I don't know!" She blurted, before they could even say anything. "I was just trying to test out a spell and then he went unconscious and then when I cast another spell, he turned into someone else, and then–"

"Shelby," Cleo immediately stepped forward, a heavy hand on her shoulder grounding her. "Breathe. I have some of Scott's taglocks on me. I'll figure out where he is and send El to find him."

El sat up immediately and saluted. "I'll be as quick as I can be!"

Cleo turned to Lauren, who quickly straightened. "You should keep an eye on the comms. Check Scott's house too, for anything that could help."

They then turned back to Shelby. "I'll help you figure out the spells you cast."

"How could you? It wasn't–" She sighed. "I'll be real, it wasn't really anything written, I just had a sudden thought and wanted to cast a spell. I didn't even think when I did it. I didn't think for either of them."

"I'm a time witch, Shelby," they smirked. "This includes alternate timelines."

She blinked. It did?

"I haven't really tried much on it, especially since it's more 'spacial' than it is 'time' and far too complicated to understand, but from what I've read, it's still technically under the umbrella," Cleo shrugged. "And as for figuring out the spell, that's where Lauren will come in. Hopefully Scott's stolen a few books about spacial magic. I know he got a ton he didn't need, so…"

Her heart squeezed. She leaped up to hug the taller woman, squishing her ever so slightly with how tight her grip was. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! I don't know what I'd do without your guys' help!"

"Awh," El smiled, cheeks pink. She hopped up from the couch and wrapped her arms around the two. "Of course we'd help you, Shelbs. Sure, your friends were pretty much jerks, but you've been nothing but kind to us!"

Lauren nodded, joining the group hug. "Yeah! And you're a friend of Scott's, and any friend of his is a friend of ours!"

Cleo, while stiff at first, eventually heaved a sigh. She planted a hand on Shelby's back, patting her. "Yeah, what they said. We've got you, Shelby."

She pulled away from the group hug (she kinda missed out on being in their coven, huh? It was so nice and warm here, as kind Pris and Joey were) beaming at them.

"I'm glad! Now, Project: Get the Scotts Back is a go!"

"We're not calling it that."