Night 29 — BIG SHOTS Marshmallow Elimination Ceremony

The island is hollow with shock. The sky is bruised purple as the survivors gather—shaken, muddy, sleepless. The bonfire crackles fitfully. Mewo drifts above the circle, expression unreadable and unbearably calm.

Mewo: “Tonight one of you goes. The votes were cast. Let’s get this over with.”

Chris McLean stands awkwardly to the side, chewing a marshmallow like it’s theater. The remaining BIG SHOTS sit in a stiff semicircle:

Luigi — quiet, ragged, still reeling.

Virian — jittery, tears drying on her face, clutching the Feral Bell.

Middle Finger Cat — tail flicking, sharper but softer than she pretends.

Golden Freddy — still and solemn, black eyes reflecting the flames.

Spamton G. Spamton — twitching, bracketed-speech ready to explode.

Ernst Richter — scarred, precise, oddly distant after the rescue.

A hush. The marshmallow tray is brought forward.

Marshmallows

Chris McLean passes marshmallows slowly. Each surviving contestant accepts, some grasping them as if an anchor:

Luigi receives one and murmurs, “Thanks,” voice small.

Virian snatches hers and squeezes it, knuckles white.

Middle Finger Cat flicks a paw, then eats the marshmallow slowly — a small, private grace.

Golden Freddy takes his and places it on his knee as if in small ritual.

Spamton lunges, ALL-CAPS and brackets and glitching:
“[[LIMITED—MARSHMALLOW—DEAL]]—CLICK—TAKE—BUY—NOW!!!”
He snatches one, chews, then — for a single heartbeat — he speaks clear:
Spamton (soft, real): “They… they saved people today. That matters.”
The glitch returns instantaneously: “[[YOU MISSED THE OFFER—CLICK—KROMER—]]”

One marshmallow remains.

Chris McLean holds it aloft with flair. The flame throws nervous shadows over faces.

Chris McLean: “No marshmallow tonight. The person leaving the island is…”

A long, strained beat. The fire crackles louder than usual.

Chris McLean: “…Ernst Richter.”

Reactions

Ernst blinks, places the marshmallow back on the tray, and stands with the calm resignation of someone who’s measured every risk in a lab notebook. He nods once.

Ernst: “Understood. Data suggests this outcome was probable. Farewell.”
It’s clinical, but there’s no malice. He steps forward and walks to the Dock of Shame.

Luigi exhales and whispers, “Be careful out there.”
Virian wipes her face; she looks torn and lashes out brusquely: “You did good work, Ernst — don’t let them make you feel… less.”
Middle Finger Cat (quiet): “You weren’t bad. Too tidy for this place, maybe.”
Golden Freddy (soft): “Safe travels.”

Spamton glitches, half-screaming, half-whispering bracketed spam:
“[[LIMITED—EXIT—DEAL]]—ERNS—TAKE—THE—DEAL—NO—WAIT—HOLD—BUY—GOODBYE—”
He looks oddly, painfully human for a second more and then the mask snaps back.

Springtrap is gone; Mercedes is gone; Steve is gone; Junkil is gone; others are gone. The roster keeps shrinking.

Ernst reaches the boat, stands on its planks a moment, looks back at the campfire and shakes his head once like someone erasing a chalkboard equation. He steps off the boat. The oars cut through the dark water; the boat slips away into the night toward the unknown.

Closing

The remaining BIG SHOTS gather the warm, sticky marshmallows in a small, tight huddle. The night air tastes of smoke and loss.

Luigi (soft): “We’ve lost a lot. But we… keep going.”
Middle Finger Cat (muttering): “Tomorrow, we watch the trees.”
Virian (sniffling): “And I’ll ring the bell for those who saved people today.”
Golden Freddy: “We should remember them properly. Not like the island always forgets.”
Spamton (half-glitch, half-quiet): “[[REMEMBER—NOT FOR SALE—NOT A DEAL—]]”

Mewo floats down a hair’s breadth above the fire and inclines his head the tiniest fraction.

Mewo: “Rest. Plan. The island is not done with you yet.”

The flames keep dancing. The survivors eat their marshmallows in a tired silence, and the forest watches.