#also ALL the tango ones are so gorgeous

[its-shells]

EHEHE MY ALTER EGOS GOT HERE

can’t show all of my fav art because there are too many but here are a few

[slashmagpie]

Break Like an Artist

My fic for @hermitadaymay's Solstice Social Collaborative Fanwork Event! I was paired up with the wonderful @eydilily to create something spooky, dramatic and contemplative featuring Gem and Pearl, and it's been an absolute blast putting this together. Please go check out Eydi's art for this AU, it's absolutely gorgeous. CWs: description of a corpse, dismemberment, loss of awareness, fire/flooding/destruction, and depiction of a panic attack. Wordcount: 5.8k

There is a plague sweeping Pearl's hometown.

One by one, she watches as her friends fall to the infection, the colour and life drained out of them and leaving hollow, apathetic husks behind. Even with the devastating loss of her friends, her village, and her regular life, the worst part of this situation is not the infection.

It's that Pearl knows that Gem is the one spreading it.

[Read on AO3]

It’s a grey day in the fishing village that Pearl calls her home. Not that it’s ever not a grey day, at least not anymore. She stares out of her window at the thick encompassing fog that’s claimed the bay, at the desaturated buildings that dot the shore, and she twirls her paintbrush in her fingers. 

The canvas is blank, of course. She doesn’t remember the last time she sat down to paint and didn’t end up with a blank canvas. It must have been—months ago, at least. Back when the last monster from the depths had attacked, and not a single person had had the heart to fight back. When Tango’s house had been shattered in two, and Tango with it.

(He seems to be dealing well with the loss of his arm, at least. Or, as well as you can deal with anything, when the only things inside of you are all-consuming numbness and apathy. Pearl feels it in her chest, the yawning emptiness, and thinks that if she were to lose her arm right here and now, she also wouldn’t be able to summon the energy to care.)

She’d painted after that, though. She remembers it vividly, waking from a nightmare and running to her studio to capture lashing tentacles and inky waters and splatters of crimson blood. It’s a frenzied piece, a disturbing piece, and the moment she’d finished it she’d been filled with so much dread that she’d turned it around to face the wall and refused to look at it since.

The dread’s gone now. Along with the anxiety, and the uncertainty, and the fear. It’s all gone, and Pearl’s left sitting here, paints drying on the palette as she stares at an empty canvas.

Across the house, she hears her front door swing open and closed. A familiar voice shouts, “Pearl? Pearl, where are you?”

“Studio,” Pearl calls back, her voice flat. She continues to twirl the paintbrush as she waits for Gem to trek her way across the house to find her.

“Studio,” Gem echoes as she pushes open the door. “Oh, Pearl, are you painting again? Oh, I’m so happy for—oh.” The joy in her voice vanishes as she takes in Pearl, sitting on her stool, paintbrush raised and canvas empty. “Oh, Pearl…” 

Sympathy. Pity. Concern. Pearl can pick apart the emotions in Gem’s voice, even if she can’t feel them herself. She stares back blankly, because she can’t find it in herself to care about either aspect of the situation, whether it be her own inability to paint or the way that Gem’s looking at her like she’s a wounded animal.

“Come on,” Gem says softly, crossing the room and gently prying the brush from Pearl’s fingers. Pearl lets her. She’s not really painting, anyway. “Let’s get you to bed, shall we? A nap will do you some good.”

Pearl lets Gem help her up, lets Gem allow Pearl to lean on her for support as they make their way back to Pearl’s bedroom. It’s not like Pearl has any difficulty walking. She’s not sick, she’s not injured, she’s just…

Cold. Empty. Not quite lifeless, not in the way Mumbo had been when she’d last seen him, skin and eyes and hair all the same shade of grey-white-nothingness as he’d stared into the distance, completely unresponsive. Listless, maybe, is the better word. She’s halfway to a fate worse than death and she cannot find it in her to care at all.

She feels colder where Gem touches her. She looks down, and she’s not sure if it’s her eyes playing tricks on her, or if her skin is more desaturated where it brushes against Gem’s. She lets Gem help her into bed, lets Gem fluff the pillows and fuss around her, lets Gem sit next to her as she hands Pearl a bowl of soup (“Your favourite!”) and watches her to make sure she eats.

If Pearl were more herself, she would care about what Gem’s doing to her. Care enough to stop it, maybe. Care enough to—no, not to confront her. Every time she’d tried, the words had gotten stuck in her throat. Because she’s known for a long time who’s been behind all of this, behind the corruption leeching all colour from their village, their home, their friends—

And she’d never said anything. Too worried about Gem’s feelings. Too worried about their friendship.

…Pearl realises, as Gem goes to take the empty bowl and brushes her hands against Pearl’s, that she’s not worried anymore.

She waits quietly as Gem washes the bowl in her kitchen, chattering to fill the silence as she does, updating Pearl on their friends’ conditions. Her tone is bright and optimistic, even as her words are dour. Scar seems to be doing the same. Grian’s getting worse. Joel’s down to communicating only in broken phrases—but he should be fine. It definitely won’t be like Mumbo, or Cub, or…

Gem returns to Pearl’s room, regarding her for a long moment before bending down to give her a hug. “Get better soon, okay?” she says into Pearl’s ear. “It’s not the same doing my rounds without you.”

Pearl knows that she’s not getting better. So does Gem, so Pearl doesn’t bother pointing it out. She just nods, lets Gem withdraw, lets Gem run one last hand through her hair.

“You should rest, Pearl,” Gem says, stepping away from Pearl’s bedside. “I’m going to go check on Impy now—”

Pearl’s moving before she’s even properly registered it, grabbing onto Gem’s wrist with force, holding her in place. Gem freezes. Pearl looks up at her through strands of greasy, greying hair.

“Gem,” she says, and it’s the first thing she’s said in days, and her voice is hoarse and her throat sore from the strain.

“...Pearl?” Gem replies, and she sounds almost scared.

“Gem,” Pearl repeats, getting used to the sound of her own voice in her mouth again. “I know.”

Gem laughs. It’s a nervous, tittering sound, the laugh Pearl remembers from when they’d gotten into trouble together as kids. “Know what?” she asks, voice strained. 

“That it’s you,” Pearl says flatly. 

Gem stares at her.

Pearl stares back.

Gem swallows. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says. “Pearl—”

“I know you’re the one doing this to us,” Pearl says, more specific this time, choosing her words carefully, and Gem—

Gem tries to pull away.

Pearl tightens her grip. 

“Pearl,” Gem whines, eyes wide, tugging. “Let me go—”

“Why?” Pearl croaks, and Gem snaps her mouth shut.

---

Pearl’s in the midst of mixing a particularly tricky shade of green when there’s a loud, frantic knock on her front door. She sighs, setting down her brush to rest, and gets to her feet. “I’m coming, I’m coming, hold on!” she calls as the knocks continue, echoing through the house.

She pulls the door open and Tango’s there, a nervous ball of energy, just about ready to bolt. “Pearl!” he calls. “Pearl, come on, we gotta go—” 

He grabs her by the arm and drags her off. Pearl just barely manages to close her front door behind her.

“Wha—? Where are we going? What’s going on?”

“Something washed up on shore,” Tango explains. “The whole town’s there, c’mon.”

Accepting that she’s not going to get an explanation out of him, and now deeply curious about this something, she lets Tango lead her down to the shore by the lighthouse. Sure enough, the whole town is there, a chattering crowd gathered around a spot on the shore that Pearl can’t quite see. Impulse is standing on the edge of the crowd and catches sight of them, raising his arm in a wave. Tango makes a beeline towards him, ducking under the crowd, and Pearl follows behind, apologising to False and Keralis as she bumps into them.

“Did you decide what to do with it yet?” Tango asks as he comes to a halt and finally lets Pearl go.

Impulse shakes his head. “We’ve decided it’s Gem’s call,” he says. “After all, she’s the—”

He doesn’t finish his sentence as the crowd suddenly goes silent and parts for Gem, her hair wild and eyes wide behind her thick-rimmed glasses. She’s got her lab coat pulled on over her day clothes, clearly not prepared for this in the slightest. She reaches the front of the crowd and stops dead still, staring at the thing that has washed up on the shore.

Pearl follows her friend’s gaze, and sees it for the first time.

It’s a body. Of course it is. A corpse, taken by the sea and ravaged by the waves and washed ashore by the brutal bay currents. The body’s clothes are torn and sodden, the skin beneath so pale that it could practically be paper. Pearl is stricken, for a moment, with the mental image of her taking a brush to this canvas, filling it back in with colour, painting contours back into its skin, breathing life back into the body.

She shakes her head violently, banishing the thought. Where did that come from? This isn’t a canvas, it’s—

It’s a person. A person who was alive, and is now dead, washed up on the beach like a dead whale and just as much of a spectacle. His eyes are open but rolled back, only the whites showing, and his hair is white too, just as pale as his skin. It stands as sharp contrast against the dark fabric of his torn clothes, a mask wrapped around the bottom half of his face.

Pearl swallows hard and averts her gaze back to Gem, who looks just as disturbed by the body as Pearl feels. It takes Gem longer to pull her eyes away, to glance around the crowd. “I’ll—I’ll take it back to my lab,” she says. “Investigate, and—and give him a proper burial.”

The words reassure the crowd, a low chatter beginning up again. 

“Skizz, will you help me carry him?” Gem calls.

Skizz does, stepping forward from the crowd and helping Gem maneuver the bloated corpse. Pearl finds herself looking at it again, noticing dark striations in the skin, caught in glimpses between the tears in the clothing as it’s moved. 

She shakes her head again, forces herself to look away as the body is carried out and the crowd disperses. The image of the body lingers in her mind. Something settles uncomfortably in her stomach, and she wishes that she’d never opened the door.

---

Things go back to normal after that. Or, well, as normal as they get in the village, at least. False monitors the currents and warns of any incoming floods or monster attacks. Impulse and Tango work maintenance on the fishing boats that Grian and Skizz and Keralis take out into the bay. Mumbo runs the fish market. Cub and Scar come and go along the trading routes. Joel maintains security, or at least the illusion of it.

Gem hides away in her lab running experiments she never explains, and Pearl paints.

She tries to return to her usual fare, brightly-coloured landscapes with fantastical features, but something about her paintings rings hollow when she looks at them. She decides she needs a change, to switch things up and just relax, so she pulls out her paints and a blank canvas and begins with no intentions. Her movements are fluid and free and thoughtless and she falls into a flow state that lasts hours, until she blinks her eyes and awakes to find a portrait before her, a colourless face in full saturation.

The corpse’s visage, so alive she can’t believe it’s not breathing, stares back at her from her easel, and Pearl flinches like she’s been burned.

She hides that painting away, face turned towards the wall, and returns to painting landscapes. They come easier now, and for a time Pearl feels normal, as long as she ignores the canvas in the corner.

It’s Impulse who notices that there’s something wrong first. It’s not surprising that he’d be the first to pick up on it, really. Skizz is his best friend, after all. Of course he’d notice when Skizz stopped laughing, stopped joking, stopped drumming out tunes with his fingers on the side of his boat. And when Pearl sees him, she notices changes too—his skin paler, like he’s spent several weeks locked inside a basement instead of out in the summer sun, his eyes no longer their regular bright blue.

“Hey, Skizzly,” she greets brightly, trying to play at normal, throwing him a bone to grab onto.

Skizz just glances at her before responding with a flat, “Oh, hey Pearl.”

Pearl’s smile falters. “How are you feeling? Impulse told me you’re a little under the weather.”

Skizz shrugs. “Fine, I guess. Did you need something?”

Pearl swallows, something cold sinking in her guts. “No, no, just checking in on you.”

“Gem already checked on me,” Skizz says. “She said I’m not sick.”

“Gem’s not that type of doctor,” Pearl reminds him with a weak smile.

Skizz shrugs again. “She’s the only doctor we’ve got.”

Pearl tries her best not to let that unsettle her.

---

It’s not just Skizz.

It starts with him, but it doesn’t end there. Keralis is next, and then Grian. Mumbo gets sickest the quickest, going from his anxious, affable self to a nearly-unresponsive husk within a week. That scares them all, because even Skizz is still responding when spoken to, still moving when instructed to, even after nearly a month of being infected with… whatever it is that’s going around.

False gets sick without anyone noticing, sequestered away in her lighthouse until she comes into town for groceries looking like a photograph that’s been left in the sun for too long, and that’s when people really start to panic.

And that’s when Gem declares, with all the authority that being a doctor of anthropology afforded her in a tiny town with no real doctor, that she’s putting everyone into quarantine until they can determine the source of the illness. 

“I’m not sick,” Pearl tells Gem when her friend knocks on her door, dressed in full lab gear, her hair out of its usual ponytail and falling forward around her face. She’s pretty sure she isn’t, at least, having hyper-analysed the shade of blue in her eyes in the mirror every morning for the past month. 

“I know,” Gem says. “I want to—I need to—can I come in?”

“Yeah,” Pearl says, stepping aside. “Of course.”

Gem enters, heading down the stairs into Pearl’s living space and staring at the paintings on the wall. Pearl watches her for a moment before stepping closer, resting a reassuring hand on her friend’s shoulder.

“What’s eating you?” she asks.

Gem snorts out a laugh at that. “I’m not a real doctor, Pearl,” she says.

“I know that.”

“They all need me to be a real doctor for them. I—” She breaks off, runs an anxious hand through her hair. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I need help.”

Pearl raises her eyebrows. “I don’t know how I can help,” she says. “I’m even less of a doctor than you are.”

“I know,” Gem says. “But you’re my friend, and I trust you, and I need—please?”

She stares at Pearl, bright green eyes magnified through thick glasses lenses. Pearl has never been able to say no to those eyes.

“Okay,” she agrees, letting out an uncertain breath. “Okay. What do you need me to do, Dr. Tay?”

Gem laughs again, high-pitched and anxious, and Pearl feels hot and cold all at once.

---

They do house calls. Once a day, Gem and Pearl, and sometimes Impulse, will make a round of the village, checking in on everyone. Gem brings some of her lab equipment and a notebook, where she scribbles down all the readings she takes from her instruments and any observations she makes. After the first week or so, Pearl also takes to bringing a sketchbook and a small travel painting kit, attempting to record the desaturation rate in her friends’ colours. 

It doesn’t matter which way they look at it—the situation is bad, and rapidly getting worse. Most of the town is infected now, and Skizz is approaching Mumbo’s level of deterioration. Cub fell ill two weeks ago, and Tango—

Well, he’s not quite grey yet, but he looks washed out where he sits at his table, especially next to Gem, all bright copper and ocean blue and forest green. His voice is flat, all of the emotion in it gone, and while he responds in full sentences to Gem’s questions as Pearl attempts to capture the moulded-straw colour of his hair, none of his words sound like him. 

Gem wraps up her check-in, and Pearl follows her out, paints packed away in her bag and sketchbook held carefully so as not to smudge the paint. Impulse is waiting for them outside, staring out into the bay, where a low-lying fog has been hanging for days. 

He glances over at them, voice shaking as he asks, “How is he?”

Gem hesitates. “About the same?��� she offers. 

Pearl shakes her head. “Worse,” she says, offering her sketchbook to Impulse, pointing out the differences in values between the colours she’d sampled from Tango two days ago to the ones she’d taken today. 

Impulse’s hands are trembling as he hands the sketchbook back to her. “What do we do?” he asks. “They just keep getting worse—Gem, what do we do?”

Gem’s eyes are fixed somewhere out at sea. Her expression is so scarily blank that Pearl would worry she was infected if not for how bright and vibrant she looks against the backdrop of the village. (Are the houses getting greyer? Surely not—surely it’s just the fog, and the fact that the sky has been overcast for a fortnight now—surely—)

“We look after them best we can,” Gem says. “I’m trying—every night I’m working on a cure.”

“And do you think it’ll work?” Impulse pushes.

“I have to,” Gem replies. “It has to.” 

Pearl swallows, and does not voice what all three of them are thinking: what if it doesn’t?

---

Impulse turns up one morning a shade dimmer than he had been the day before. Pearl notices immediately, her stomach lurching at the sight of him. He offers her a smile that’s smaller than his usual ones, a greeting that’s a little flatter than it would usually be. Pearl’s not sure if Gem even notices.

But Pearl notices, and her eyes sting, and she throws herself at him in a way that catches all three of them off-guard.

“Uh, Pearl?” Impulse says, stiff and uncomfortable beneath her. “You okay?”

“I’m sorry,” Pearl mumbles against his ear.

“Pearl?” There’s a peak of distress in his voice but it’s not enough. Gem hears it, too.

“Oh no,” she breathes.

“Okay, guys, seriously,” Impulse says, pushing Pearl away. “What’s going on?”

They just stare at him.

Realisation dawns across Impulse’s face. “No.” 

“Maybe…” Gem sucks in a breath. She reaches out to take his hand and squeezes it. “Maybe you should go home, Impy. Get some rest.”

“I’m fine,” Impulse protests. “I’m…” His protest crumbles under their gazes. He slumps, and Pearl knows that he would normally never crumble like that. He’d protest and fight back and keep working until he passed out on the docks and had to be carried back to bed.

“C’mon,” she says softly. “I’ll help you home.”

Impulse doesn’t protest that either. He knows, as well as the two of them do, how this ends. He knows that there’s no fighting this.

Pearl, very valiantly, does not cry about it.

---

With everyone except the two of them infected, Pearl manages to convince Gem to split the rounds, with her taking half of the houses, and Gem taking the other half, swapping halves every couple of days. Gem is reluctant, but she has no good argument against Pearl’s that this is more practical, and so she agrees.

And that’s when Pearl notices.

She thinks she’s imagining it at first, but the colour swatches in her sketchbook back up her suspicions, damning evidence she can’t ignore.

When she visits her rounds, she finds that the people she’s visiting appear to have stabilised, at least for a couple days, no greyer today than they were when she saw them the day before. And then she swaps with Gem, and notices that Gem’s half of the rotation are far paler, far less responsive, than they had been the last time Pearl had seen them. They stabilise for a couple days, and then they switch, and Pearl’s original rotation have deteriorated massively in the several days since. 

There’s really only one conclusion she can draw from that, and she doesn’t want to draw it. She doesn’t want to believe that the one responsible for this is—

The fog is a permanent fixture of the village now, blanketing the bay in a thick blanket of quiet. Pearl finds it hard to sleep, even the familiar sound of waves muffled by the mist. Kept awake into the early hours of the morning, she finds herself in the studio, a brush in hand, letting the paint take her where it will.

And where it takes her is familiar: the village, desaturated and coated in fog, dark looming shapes in the mist beyond, rising out of the ocean. And there, in the midst of the painting, a bright spot in all the gloom, is Gem, so vibrant she practically lifts off the page.

Pearl stares at it for a long, long time, and then places it face against the wall and tries her best to forget about it.

---

In all the dread, they’d forgotten something important.

The sea isn’t safe. It never has been. Growing up in the bay you learn how to weather the storms, to predict the tides, to flee from floods. You learn how to build barriers, and you learn how to rebuild once the ocean drags them down. 

Pearl knows that her village can handle the sea: she’s seen them do it time and time again over the years. Together, they move as a well-oiled machine, responding to threats from the depths with weathered ease. That’s why she doesn’t expect it, she thinks. 

There’s never been a monster attack that False didn’t warn them about.

But False isn’t capable of doing much of anything at the moment.

And so when the tentacles rise from the waves, there isn’t a warning.

Just a deafening krk-crash that wakes Pearl from a dead sleep with a bolt of adrenaline that’s nearly nauseating. She scrambles from her blankets, still in her pajamas, and rushes up the stairs to throw on her boots. It’s edging towards winter now, the weather much milder than the summer months, and though it’s not cold by any stretch of the imagination the chill of the air still makes her shiver. She grits her teeth, racing from her front door to the village proper, and there—

There’s a sea monster, dark purple tentacles reaching out to the shore, destroying everything in its wake. The fish market is half gone, and it’s awful, but it’s a relief, in a way, because nobody lives there.

“Gem!” Pearl screams into the night.

“Pearl!” she hears echo back, followed by distant footsteps, growing ever-closer. 

Gem’s face is flushed, her hair wild, her eyes wide. She’s also in her pyjamas, her lab coat that’s been ever-present for months now gone, and Pearl finds her eyes drawn to dark striations in her skin. They look like—

“Pearl,” Gem says again. “We need to get everyone out, away from the shore, up to the research centre—”

Pearl nods. “Got it,” she says. She points towards the docks and says, “I’ll head over there.”

Gem nods. “Be safe,” she says, and then she’s off again, pelting in the direction of the lighthouse.

Pearl doesn’t bother knocking as she throws Impulse’s door open. He’s still lucid enough that he’s been startled awake by the noise, though it hasn’t driven him to do much more than put his shoes on and stare out of the window at the dark shapes rearing up out of the fog.

“Impulse!” Pearl cries.

“Pearl?” Impulse says, glancing at her with dull eyes.

“We need to get people out,” she says.

There’s an extended pause, then, “Okay.”

“Can you get Skizz?” she asks. “Tango, too, maybe? I need to go to the beach, help everyone down there.”

Another extended pause, then a nod. “I can do that,” Impulse says. He moves too slowly, not driven by the same panic flooding Pearl’s veins, but it’s good enough. It has to be. Pearl doesn’t have time to consider the alternative.

She goes racing off for the beach. She throws open Keralis’ door first, relieved that he is, at least, wearing underwear when she drags him from his bed and into the night. She leaves him there while she grabs Grian from his hut, and then takes them both by the wrists, pulling them along behind her while she races for the cliffside.

It feels like hours that she races back and forth, grabbing her friends from their homes and dragging them in various states of comprehension to the safety of the cliff before running back into the danger zone. Grian’s hut is gone, and so is a large portion of the road. The tentacles have taken a chunk out of the farms further up the coast. Gem’s been taking the people she rescues a different route up to the research facility, the path that Pearl’s taking cut off to her by debris.

Once she’s got everyone on her side of town, she collapses panting on the grass, her lungs aching with the strain. There’s a fire somewhere down on the shore, someone’s lantern knocked astray by swinging tentacles. Her eyes burn just from looking at it.

A voice says, “I got him.”

Pearl looks up.

It’s Impulse, manhandling a colourless, greyscale Skizz.

Pearl goes cold.

“Where’s Tango?” she asks.

Impulse blinks. Slowly. Too slowly.

“Oh,” he says. “I’ll go get him.”

Pearl shakes her head, rocketed up to her feet by panic once again. “No, I’ll go,” she gasps. “You stay here.”

And then she’s off running again, beelining for Tango’s house, praying to any higher power that will listen that she’s not too late. Her lungs ache. Her legs burn. She can’t quite catch her breath. She’s shaking.

And then she’s knocking down Tango’s door, grabbing him from his bed against the far wall, dragging him away—

The roof coming down sounds like thunder, like the sky split open and gutted for parts. Pearl goes down hard, stars bursting behind her eyes, her breath coming out empty and then as a whine. She blinks, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dark, for her ears to stop ringing, and that’s when she hears it.

It’s—not a scream. More of a whimper, or a wail, stretched out and awful and pained and punctuated by short, desperate gasps. It goes straight to her stomach, straight to making her sick, and she doesn’t want to look. Doesn’t want to move.

But, god, she has to, doesn’t she?

She wiggles her fingers, her toes, and lets out a deep groan as she pushes herself up onto her hands and knees. The world has narrowed in on itself, the open air of Tango’s house reduced to a crawlspace, and she shuffles down it, rubble and debris tearing her skin open and leaving bloody red marks on desaturated wood. It is a far cry from the blood she finds, practically brown with how much colour has been leeched from it. 

“Oh, my god,” she chokes. “Tango…”

Tango just moans in response. She can’t tell if he’s pale from blood loss or pale from the infection, but either way it has the effect of making him look half dead. He’s half buried beneath the rubble, body jerking with what she can only assume is pain, barely felt beneath the weight of numb apathy.

“I gotta get you out of here.” The words taste acrid against her tongue. Or maybe that’s the smoke. She can’t tell. “I’ve got you.” She grabs Tango by his good arm and grimaces. “It’s gonna be okay.”

It’s not a reassurance for him. Not really. Pearl’s familiar enough with his condition by now to know that he can’t really care about being okay at this point.

It’s more for her as she does her best to get leverage in the small space and pulls. 

When Tango screams, she knows it’s completely involuntary, an animal howl of agony that stops her short. Pearl gasps, tears on her cheeks, head spinning. “Please, no,” she begs, and she doesn’t know if she’s talking to him or the higher power that’s been ignoring her for weeks. “No, no, I gotta—I—”

“Pearl?”

“Gem!” Pearl cries. “Gem, please, I need—it’s Tango—he’s—”

“I’ve got you,” says Gem’s voice, familiar and close as footsteps pound across rubble. There’s a series of grunts and clunks as rubble shifts, and then there’s light pouring into the crawlspace, which is no longer so much of a crawlspace. Gem stares at the two of them, Pearl in tears on her knees and Tango half buried and lying in his own dull blood. 

“Okay,” she gasps out, and she sounds terrified. “Okay,” she repeats, steadier this time. 

Pearl wants to be relieved, but she’s just on the other side of hysterical. Gem’s holding an axe, which she must have used to clear the rubble, and she steps forward with it held between white knuckles.

“Hold him still,” she tells Pearl.

Pearl swallows. “Gem?” she whispers.

“Please.”

Gem glances down at Pearl, and god, she never has been able to say no to that, has she?

She shuffles forward, puts her weight against Tango, holds him still. Squeezes her eyes shut.

It doesn’t make it any better.

It doesn’t stop her from hearing the sick crunch of the axe cutting through bone or the blood-curdling scream Tango lets out.

It doesn’t stop her from feeling the sudden lack of resistance as she pulls Tango’s bleeding body away from the rubble, leaving his arm behind.

---

Pearl manages to hold it together until they’re able to get Tango safe and stable. Once the wound has been cauterised and disinfected and bandaged, and he’s left sitting with a mostly-unresponsive Skizz and an Impulse who’s just aware enough to be awkward about how little he feels for his friend, she walks away from the town’s refugees on the hillside until she can no longer hear them, and they can no longer hear her. She stands for a moment, surveying the damage below, the sun rising over the sea and the flooded streets and destroyed buildings, and she sucks in a breath that knocks her to her knees.

The panic attack comes in quick half-breaths and waterlogged wails, her hands gripping at her hair and pulling it hard enough to hurt. The world blurs around her as she chokes on saltwater and bile, her ears ringing with screams and funeral bells. When the hands settle on her shoulders she barely feels them—only feels them when they rise to her wrists and untangle her fingers from her hair.

“—earl? Pearl. Look at me. Come on, I know you can do it.”

“Ge-em,” Pearl chokes out. “I can’t—I—”

“I’ve got you,” Gem soothes. She takes Pearl’s hands in hers, squeezes them tight, real and grounding. “See, come on, that’s it. Breathe with me.”

Pearl blinks tears from her eyes as she tries to time her breathing to Gem’s. She’s not very good at it, her heart too quick and Gem’s too slow, but it helps, dragging her down from the high of panic. 

“That’s it,” Gem breathes. She lets go of Pearl’s hand, reaching up to push the hair out of Pearl’s face, cupping her cheeks in her palms. “See? Nice and calm. Everything’s fine, see?”

“Yeah,” Pearl agrees, and the words feel hollow. Her panic feels hollow, somewhere above her body, her soul sunken to somewhere below her knees. She sucks in a breath, lets Gem wipe tears from her eyes with her thumbs.

Gem is so bright. A searchlight in a storm, a ray of rising sun through the dark. The world seems to grey around her. 

Pearl reaches out, splaying her hand against Gem’s cheek, a clumsy echo of Gem’s own reassuring, grounding touch. Gem is still so bright, vivid enough that Pearl doesn’t think any paint could capture it. 

And Pearl, held in comparison, is grey and dull. A shade, drained of life.

She swallows. Lets out a shaking breath. Looks up into Gem’s green eyes, sees the fear and regret in them, and can barely summon her own panic or hurt in return.

“Oh,” she says, and the word falls like a stone, plunging into the depths.

---

Pearl lets out a breath. “It was the body, wasn’t it?” she asks, loosening her grip. “The one that washed up. It did something to you.”

Gem swallows. She pulls away, holding onto her own wrist where Pearl had dropped it, clutching it to her chest. “I’m so hungry, Pearl,” she whispers. “I fade so fast now. I need… I need…”

“You’re going to kill us.” Gem flinches at the words. “You know that, don’t you, Gem? You’re going to kill us. You are killing us.”

“I just need your colours,” Gem replies, a whine in her voice. “I just…”

“What happens when we’re gone, Gem? What happens when you’ve taken all the colours? What happens then?”

Gem stares at her. There are tears in her eyes. They don’t quite fall, but Pearl can feel them drip into her hollow heart. There’s an ocean between them now and Pearl doesn’t have the wits to cross it. She doesn’t care enough to cross it, and she doesn’t feel enough to care about that. 

“I have to go and check on Impy,” Gem repeats, her voice thick. “I’ll see you later, Pearl.”

“You won’t,” Pearl calls after her as Gem hurries for the door.

Gem doesn’t reply, just slamming the door shut in response.

Pearl sits in bed for a long time, staring at the wall with hazy vision. Her thoughts are muffled under the thick fog that chokes the village, and so when she finally stands, she’s not entirely sure why. She lets her body carry her back to her studio, picks up a canvas from against the wall, and places it on her easel. She sits down in front of it and stares.

Gem’s face stares back at her, the only alive thing in a dead and colourless world.

[alemene]

𝖬𝖮𝖳𝖧 𝖳𝖮 𝖥𝖫𝖠𝖬𝖤（ 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒 )

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 in which y/n y/l/n has a new boyfriend and lewis hamilton can’t help but want to remind her how he knows her better.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 cheating, kissing, allusions to the devils tango

notes this is based on moth to a flame by the weeknd & swedish house mafia (I don’t know if anyone done this but if so lemme know) if there’s any mistakes, let me know xx

driver list navigation

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it was 3:45 in the morning.

y/n was supposed be asleep but instead she was wide awake sitting on the sofa on the phone talking to her ex boyfriend whilst her current one slept in the next room.

“come y/n/n, you don’t wanna be with this guy. he doesn’t know you like I do baby.” lewis’ voice almost pleads as he talks.

“this needs to stop. I’ve moved on. you should have too.” she says simply, picking at the blanket that covered her.

“please baby-”

“you have to stop calling me that.” she cuts him off “I ain’t your baby anymore. I stopped being that a long time ago.”

“y/n, he doesn’t know what you need. doesn’t know what to give you. I do.” his pleading continues.

she stays silent. she doesn’t even know how to respond to that. it was true. her boyfriend hadn’t been able to please her in the two years they’d been together. and although she’d never admit it out loud, it was driving her insane.

“I bet he even knows he can’t please you because he knows he can never give you what I gave you.” he says smugly. “because he knows, he can never be better than me.”

“arrogance doesn’t suit you.” she mutters loud enough for him to hear.

“I am not being arrogant. I am being honest.” he responds quickly.

“what do you want from me lewis?” she asks slightly frustrated.

“you. I want you. I want you to admit you want me too.” he states like it’s obvious

“I don’t want you.” lies. but he didn’t need to know that.

“just come cover.” he says simply.

“I can’t.” she whispers.

“why? cause your with him?” he says annoyed, “just leave now. you’ll be back in the morning. I just need to see you baby.” he pleads.

“lewis-”

“come on y/n. just lemme be near you. touch you. that’s all i need.” lewis says almost desperately, hints of desire in his words.

“one hour. I’ll come to you.” she says after a moment of silence.

although she should of felt guilty or even hesitated to answer, she didn’t. she wanted to see lewis. needed to see him. lewis was her first love, probably the only man she would ever truly love.

“I’ll send you the address.” he says, his voice completely lustful as he ends the call and sends the address of a hotel.

- 20 minutes later -

she knocks on his door. her mind filled with guilt and hesitation as she waited for the door to open. however, once the door opened and she caught sight of lewis, those thoughts had quietened.

“lewis.” she says breathily.

in response, lewis smirks and makes space for her to enter.

“you said you wanted to see me, you’ve seen me.” she whispers as she enters the room.

“I also said I wanted to touch you and I haven’t done that yet.” he flirts as he shuts the door and locks it.

“lewis-” she mutters as she closes her eyes.

“come on baby, just let me touch you.” he responds, taking off her jacket as he stands behind her.

“I have a boyfriend.” she says firmly, not turning to face him.

“then why are here? hm?” he whispers in her ear as he stays behind her.

“I- I don’t know.” she mutters.

“you still want me.” he responds as she shakes her head. “yes you do, you still love me y/n. I know you do baby, don’t deny it.” he says turning her around to face him only to see her eyes closed.

they stay in silence for a few moments as lewis looks at her, assessing every detail on her face. memorising her features like he used to when they once shared a bed.

“open your eyes.” he says softly. “lemme see those gorgeous eyes I’ve missed to much.” he speaks again stroking her cheek.

she takes a deep breath as she keeps her eyes closed, determined not to fall for him all over again.

“come on baby, just look at me.” he whispers, brushing his lips against her cheek. “just need you to look at me again.” he repeats, kissing her cheek.

“lewis-” she starts but was quickly interrupted when she felt a kiss on her jaw forcing her to open her eyes.

the sight before her made her wish she had never answered his phone call.

there he was cradling her face like she was a precious piece of art as he looked down at her with pure affection and warmth at finally seeing her looking at him.

“there we go baby, there’s those pretty eyes.” he whispers as he rubs his thumb on her cheek. “god i missed you.” he mutters as he leans his forehead against hers.

“I shouldn’t be doing this.” she mumbles as she shakes her head, pulling away from him and forming distance making his smile drop while he reaches out for her.

“leave that guy. come back to me.” he states firmly, his expression almost desperate.

“we are toxic lewis. we fought all the time, we barely saw each other expect to use each other in bed.” she argues back, putting her hands on her hips.

“it’s been three years y/n. we’ve changed. I’ve changed. that guy doesn’t deserve you.” he says simply taking a step forward towards her which makes her step back.

“and you think you deserve me?” she scoffs.

“no I don’t deserve you. no one fucking deserves you y/n/n. but I love you. more then that guy can.” he takes a step forward. she takes a step back. “I care for you more then him.” step forward. step back. “I touch you better then he does.” he whispers, taking a final step forward until she’s pressed up against the wall. “and you and I both know i can please you better then he does.” he finishes looking at her as she leans back against the wall looking up at him with wide eyes as she breaths heavily.

“lew-” she mumbles out as licks her lips and looks at his lips before quickly looking at his eyes.

“let me kiss you.” he whispers as he leans his head forward and places his hand on her cheek. “please baby let me kiss you.” he pleads, their lips inches away.

she pauses as she keeps her arms planted to her side as she looks at him trying to pull away from him. she looks away from his eyes and back to lips.

“fuck it.” she mutters as she runs her fingers though his hair and kisses him making him immediately return it with a soft groan.

he moves his hands into her hair, “god I missed you.” he says against her lips before going straight back to kissing her.

however, as they kissed, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of regret wash over her as she thought back to her boyfriend peacefully sleeping in their bed whilst she made out with her ex boyfriend.

────────────────────────────

[azen13]

CW: Yandere Themes, Slight Spoilers for Penacony's Story Quest

I keep thinking about this one dialogue option somewhere in the Penacony Quest, where if you ask Aventurine to give you more money, he immediately sends you more, which led me to think about how Yandere!Aventurine would most definitely love to spend as much money on you as he can as a way of convincing you to stay with him, which led to this little drabble. Enjoy!

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Aventurine loves to take you shopping.

Whether it's the gilded streets of Oti Mall or the luxury departments of Pier Point, as long as the price tags are exorbitant and the clothes are high quality, Aventurine loves to take you on shopping sprees. Together, the two of you peruse store after store, boutique after boutique, shop after shop. Try and ask the gambler why and he’ll only flash you a casual smirk, drawing you closer to him and interlacing one of his hands with yours. “Do I need a reason why, love?” He questions, pulling you towards him gently and guiding you to the elevator of his penthouse. 

He can still recall the look in your eyes when he first invited you out to dinner in Pier Point. Aventurine had planned the date perfectly by getting a reservation to some state-of-the-art interactive dining experience that would surely impress you. However, once the two of you had been seated at your table, he saw you looking at your menu, eyes full of fear at the long trains of zeros preceding every item. It was a sight he’d never forget. Instantly, he told you he would pay for it all, and despite your best protests, nothing could stop him from giving the server his card

Tonight you and him are back in Pier Point, revisiting some of your favorite shops. Or rather, the shops that garnered the most wide-eyed reactions from you after entering them for the first time. You were never forthright about the shops and brands you liked, as if you didn’t want to return and buy more from them. No matter. Aventurine is always careful to gauge your reactions, a smile falling on his lips every time he sees that starstruck innocence in your gaze.

Your pure soul is so fragile. He could shatter it with a single breath. A flick of a finger. A silent stare. He knows firsthand how quickly that golden glow can fade away. So can’t he just have this? Him and you attached at the hip, the perfect image of lovers in every passing stranger’s eyes; completely in sync, moving to rhythms and melodies only he and you can hear.

He’s well aware that his grasp on you in this dance may be too tight and controlling as he forces you along with him in this spiritual tango, but he has good intentions. He knows it. You know it. It’s why you let him care for you, let him pick out your outfits and take care of your finances. Aventurine knows best. After all, he’s seen the worst parts of the world and climbed out of his own personal slice of hell. The universe is a cruel place and all he wants to do is shield you from it all by protecting the gold in your heart and the stars in your eyes. The boutiques are all devoid of anything befitting of your beauty, not that Aventurine cares. It just means he gets to go order something custom-made, tailored to fit you and match him perfectly, arguably even better than going out and buying something from a store. While it pleases him enough to know he’s paying for you, when he sees you all dressed up and matching him to a T in shades of green and gold–well, that’s an entirely different level of satisfaction.

As you begin the walk back to Aventurine’s penthouse apartment, the gambler is already looking online for new designers to contact. You ask him why he’s doing this. Once again, a soft smirk plays on Aventurine’s lips. “For starters, you look gorgeous in them,” he says, squeezing your hand a little tighter as the two of you fight your way through boulevards bustling with people. “It also makes it easier to find you in crowds when you’re all dressed up,” he adds, pausing for a moment. “And I don’t want to lose you, my love.” Aventurine lifts your hand up, softly whispering his words against the skin of your knuckles before he presses a chaste kiss to the back of your hand.

For a moment, there’s a slight tremor in his voice, his hand clenching even tighter around your own. It’s as though he’s afraid that if he relinquishes his hold on your hand, he won’t just lose you in the crowd, but forever.

The unspoken reason–that he likes to make sure everyone knows you’re his lover–lingers in the air around you like arms around your shoulders.

[eobe]

And here he is – Captain Vaughn 🤩

Captain Rex didn’t feel like being Commander, but this is how we got Captain Vaughn, showing his loyalty and kindness only within moments in the 332nd company for Ahsoka (s7e9), so he's one of the underrated clones which would have deserved more sceentime *sigh* ♥️

We never got to see his face, so there’s so much space for head canons, isn’t it? 🥰 His look in this piece is inspired by this gorgeous look (<-) designed by @lonewolflupe 🫶 

I also want to share some process magic while I was working on Captain Vaughn, so ramble incoming 😁 Take a seat and have a caf ☕️ 

It’s always the eyes when I draw. They just lead the main energy of the character and that influences the face. So I sketched line after line and his face got clearer… with some unforeseen vibes! Since I’m not that fixed to templates anymore, there can be more variation, no matter how much I try to catch the right copy paste clone-face angles... or even colors 🤯 

Have a closer look into unusual clone eyes, oh yes 👀

Lupe and I were chatting about his lighter look with freckles in her artwork (a bit Tech color palette with golden and copper tones) and I told her that I don’t know why, but I feel like some heterochromia in his eyes 😀 So his eyes are like this now – not planned and unforeseen, like it is often when art takes over ✨

I really don’t know what the Kaminoans were doing during the cloning process 😂 but we got some varied clones – for example ‚icy eyes‘ Edge from the Tango company, or the blue eyed drunk one meeting Fives in front of the 79s (I named him ‚Blues‘ hehe 😜).

Without guiding my lines along a template, doing everything out of my mind, sometimes I might get either feeling like crooked fingers or odd sight, but this can be the point where the true art magic begins, because I’m not in charge anymore. I can only shrug and surrender to the flow and I love it 🥰

So I don’t know when it happened, but look at him… 👀 WHY does he look a bit like Echo? AND Rex? And there’s something soft in his eyes what reminds me of Kix, too? And it just fits his calm and loyal character!

For Commander Wolffe for example it could never be this face and it would never happen in the drawing process like that, it wouldn’t fit, but… I’m rambling – I could never point to the lines or the moment where things like this happen. Yeah, they’re all clones and share the same face, but faces do shape after their thoughts, experiences and their lives – more frowning or more smiling 😀

Oh, I love this. Not really being in charge while drawing, but achieving so much more without being under the illusion of the concept of control what is we’re all be taught… holy force I’m really rambling and diving

Sorry not sorry, art is my passion I guess and art is my healing thing, too 🤩 I’m proud of you, if you read all this! Enjoy 🫶 

My personal ALT text mission (1 additional ALT text for a previous artwork with each new art posting!):

Captain Gregor's faces part 1 one of my oldest clone drawings, what an improving process since then, I barely can't believe it 🤩

Taglist: @eclec-tech @bixlasagna @returnofthepineapple @sunshinesdaydream @covert1ntrovert @general-ida-raven @vrycurious @dystopicjumpsuit @chaicilatte @groguandthebadbatch @justanotherdikutsimp @ladylucksrogue

[whollysensei]

sensei what would "the left and right hands" wedding look like? more steppe or more capital? in the town or in the fields? would danya wear his snakeskin coat to his own wedding?

pt. 1 wedding ideas steppe edition Ohh, i have so many words in my little head i doubt i can fit them in just one post. Im quite certain people wouldn't care much about my letters so i brought pictures >:) also im currently feeling very nauseous almost 24/7 so pls wait a bit before i get my strength back and post the second part

To make it short, i think they respect each other upbringings and cultures enough to do both.

First of all, since we already have a concrete idea of what a wedding to the Kin is — which is the sacrifice of a Herb Bride in order to wed her to the Earth — there might be a need for an alternative ritual for the declaration of eternal companionship. I think of it as a dance still but not where one is caressing the Earth, but showing her the connection of two people. Of how they complement each other through dance (earthly tango of sorts). As if a silent song of movement and fabric. And so to add even more meaning to the Kin's dance.

Though, frankly speaking, i have a big grudge with such bare (hehe) selection of clothing ipl gave to the Kin. I doubt all the festivities and ceremonies wouldn't require special kind of wardrobe. Atleast for the sake of convenience. (Ohh how i'd love to draw all the different jewelry and accessories the herb brides would wear and everything and anything....)

I pretty much looked for the same cultures which were used for the creation Kin's language ( Tibetan, Mongolian, Buryat ) to imagine my own idea of such costumes. These people have such gorgeous headwear and bright fabrics and beautiful embroidery, I can't be doing it justice with my art. My main goal was to make the costumes use mainly head accessories and visually light materials so the gays can move and dance freely. But thanks to this little question i might draw more of it and maybe even post it!!!!!

All in all, 5/10 execution cause i'm too stupid for beautiful clothes these are literally so pretty i want to stare at it :c

plus a more private sketch with our newlyweds c:

thank you for reading this c:

[lunarcrown]

Hi! I wanted to say I love this fic so much. I've read it several times over and I love seeing all your art for it as well. Thank you and aquaquadrant for bringing us this beautiful work! Tango is one of my fav Lifers and I adore Bravo and Atlas too. The characterizations are so fun. The angst is right up my alley and the soft moments balance it out beautifully. I loved reading the Hels bits and trying to figure out who each character was connected to on the overworld and the way you decided their differing traits was so interesting. The designs are also very cool. I adore Grian's jacket and glasses, Lizzie and Joel are gorgeous, Pearl is terrifyingly beautiful with all the bug traits, and Ren being a massive wolf is so fun! Tango being a blaze hybrid imprinted on my brain so hard I forgot it wasn't actually canon to his YT character's lore. It's true in my heart now. And Dbubs and Patho? Delicious. Good soup. I can't wait to see all the incredible stuff you guys put out in the future! I'm sure it'll all be great and I'll love every bit of it All that being said, I've had a bit of a day (/silly), so here's me projecting my period cramps onto Bravo <3 Have a lovely day/night!

Thank you SO MUCH FOR ALL THE KIND WORDS!!! I loooove that you’ve read it over and over, Aqua’s writing is SO CHOICE so I’m always happy when people read it more than once~~

And yesss she’s also the mastermind for all the heavy thinking about traits and details, her world building is BONKERS!! It honestly does the same thing to me where I sometimes can’t remember what was our au and what’s like actually happened in the VODs HAHA

And thanks for all the love of the designs!! It takes me a while to design anyone because I have to have the right spark and inspiration or it’ll feel too much like a chore?? So even though it took me a while (and there’s still more designs to do!!), it means a lot that you enjoy them so much!!

THE PERIOD CRAMP BEAM IS SO GOOD I looooove ittt YES GIVE BRAVO SOME AGONY!!!!!

Here’s a doodle back of him doing his favorite thing: placing blame on Tango!!!

[lillypad-monopoly]

Wild Life Episode 5 Thoughts

(Except I'm insane about Martyn's ep)

LIFE SERIES TRIVIA is DIABOLICAL! The watchers literally being like "how well do you guys know your pain and suffering?" (also sorry only winners remember theory truthers)

The way Grian and Scar are such bitter ex-soulmates that Mumbo has to point it out is hilarious. (also them getting even and saying "Just like Third Life" hurt my heart)

Grian not remembering iconic moments from his own series is so funny. What do you mean he only knows Martyn beheaded Ren with an axe from fanart? Grian gaining possession of the Red Winter Axe was a whole plot point.

MUMBO FIRST OUT! IN SESSION 5! The canary curse is broken for real now guys but at what cost.

Grian standing on the ruins of the tower by himself going through the five stages of grief over Mumbo's death as the sun rises in the background is a gorgeous piece of fanart waiting to happen

Martyn you didn't need to start the episode by talking about how Ren is providing for you, you're asking for the shipping at this point 🤣

MARTYN YOU DO THE LORE OFC JIMMY AND TANGO WERE OUT FIRST. Also REN YOU WERE LITERALLY IN DOUBLE LIFE. RIP Ren/BigB we know where his true loyalties lie

THE TWO NICKLES MEME BREAKING CONTAINMENT I CAN'T

Ren inviting BigB to join the RenWood Mound alliance WITHOUT REMEMBERING DOUBLE LIFE is so insane I don't even know what to say.

OF COURSE SCAR REMEMBERS THE DESERT DUO FLOWERS I'M GOING TO BE SICK

Martyn and Ren saying they're going to be boat bros. This has been coming since last session but I NEED Joel and Etho to call them out on it

"We're boat boys," MARTYN INTHELITTLEWOOD WHEN I CATCH YOU-

Etho yelling for Bdubs to hit him so they could test if the wildcard affected damage and then Tango going "smack me harder~" in the background was diabolical. Suuuure you guys are all PG.

Etho sitting in a boat for Joel to jump over him feels like some boat boys relationship symbolism I'm not smart enough to explain

So Etho is currently living with team BET, but allied with the Four Gs, and in the family with Gem and Joel. Wildcard Etho is so back!

Of course Impulse immediately remembered the clock question.

Joel boasting about how he immediately knows all the questions is peak Joel form and I would expect nothing less. It is kind of warranted though because everybody else is waffling on the simple ones.

Joel is now two for two on unquestioningly trusting Etho only to have something bad happen to him and not even being mad about it what is wrong with this man 😭

Does Joel have the censor bleep on his keyboard or did he just straight up start swearing at Tango and know they would both have to censor it in post to get the effect that he was also making the noise?

Scott's gone from a creaking fanboy to a body horror situation and I'm living for it (also considering he's agreed to "go wild" this session--am I sensing a Scott corruption arc?)

Scott cutting directly from saying he and Jimmy were never married even though they called each other husbands to a scene WITH Jimmy was kind of an insane choice

Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss Girldad has been confirmed by Scott as the actual reason for the 4Gs. I still think Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss ImpulseSV is funnier but good to have an official ruling

Scott giving up his life for Pearl and them being good natured about it and calling it therapy! I love them so much!

Lizzie being the only person who's not exicted when a trivia bot spawns is so funny. Even the other players who weren't in all the seasons don't seem to be as miffed by them as she is.

Lizzie's flaming snail arising out of that hole while smiling is potentially the funniest thing I've seen all day. Why did it look like that 🤣

[onceuponastory]

protective - bucky barnes x reader

Plot: Bucky gets protective over Y/N during a mission. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Warnings: A guy being creepy, reader being slightly uncomfortable and Bucky wanting to fight the guy. As always, if I miss any triggers please let me know! Notes: This is very loosely based on El Tango De Roxanne from Moulin Rouge because I love that scene & that song. Also I was thinking about a Moulin Rouge AU so lemme know your thoughts. Not beta’d, so any mistakes are my own. Thank you to @staticscreenwriting for my divider!

“I don’t like this.” Bucky hisses, throwing a hard stare across the room. Nervously, he taps his feet. Although, when he sees Y/N standing there, leaning against the bar as she sips from her drink, his face softens ever so slightly, and a small smile grows on his face. But once he remembers what they’re doing here, his hard stare returns. He really doesn’t like this. Not one bit.

“Don’t worry Buck. She’s got this.” Steve’s voice crackles over the headset. “Besides, she has a wire on, so we’ll be able to hear everything, and we can step in if we need to.” Despite how his words are trying to be supportive, Bucky doesn’t feel comforted at all by his words. 

Tonight, they’re on another mission, ready to stop some corrupt agent intent on causing chaos. And Y/N was sent undercover to charm him and try to extract information because she’s not as publicly known as the other Avengers. It’s not the first time Y/N’s done something like this, but this time, Bucky hates the thought of sending her out there alone. From what Bucky’s heard, despite the man’s kind facade, he’s extremely cruel when he needs to be, and he has no issue with stepping on people to get what he wants. And no doubt he would do just the same to Y/N if she ever got in his way. Despite how experienced she is, the thought of Y/N stuck there with him alone makes his stomach churn.

“Sam, do you have visuals on Y/N?”

“Yes, Bucky. I did the first time you asked, and I still do now.” Before Bucky even asks his next question, Sam answers it. “Yes, I’m keeping an eye on her.”

“Good.”

Bucky knows his two best friends are worried about Y/N too, but he also knows that they think he’s overreacting slightly that Y/N is going to be perfectly safe. Bucky just hopes they’re right. Y/N is incredibly skilled at going undercover, and there’s no doubt she’ll do just as well today and get the information they need. It’s just that Bucky cares too much about her to let her go into these dangerous situations alone. At least not without her knowing that he’s there on the other end if she needs him. He’s been in love with her for as long as he can remember, and the last thing he wants is for her to be put in danger. His gaze goes back to Y/N, and he sighs. She looks gorgeous tonight, dressed to the nines. But that’s not too difficult. To Bucky, Y/N always looks gorgeous. Maybe one day he’ll actually find the guts to tell her the truth, instead of standing here all forlorn and lovesick, as Sam and Steve call it.

“Showtime.” Sam whispers, cutting through his thoughts. Bucky watches as the man enters the room, making a beeline straight to the bar. Y/N notices him too, and makes a point of brushing up against him slightly as she requests another drink. The man looks over her, pointedly staring at her chest and her ass. Bucky’s jaw clenches.

“Let me get that.” The man grins, placing his hand on Y/N’s wrist and reaching out with his card before Y/N can do anything. “Can’t let a pretty girl like you pay for your own drink now, can I?” Bucky suppresses a desire to vomit. Creep.

“Thank you.” Y/N smiles, batting her eyelashes slightly. The sight makes Bucky’s stomach flutter, the same way it usually does when he sees Y/N. Sometimes, Bucky likes to imagine that Y/N’s flirting is for him, and that she feels the same way he does for her. But for real this time.

As Y/N and the man find a table and start chatting, Bucky continues to watch, hating every moment. The way the man leers at her, a sick smirk on his face the entire time, makes Bucky’s stomach churn even more. He knows what assholes like him do, and he hates every part of it.

“Can you cool it with the glare, Buck? I’m not even in the same room as you and I can feel it burning through the wall.” Bucky ignores Sam’s comment and instead works through an action plan. A way to rescue Y/N in case she needs help. As he does so, he keeps a cautious eye on the pair, just in case. As she laughs along with the man, Bucky can pick up on the awkwardness in her laugh. He swears the noise makes his stomach twist. When the man presses a kiss to her cheek and a small flicker of unease crosses Y/N’s face, Bucky swears his heart almost stops.

In a moment, he jumps up, ready to charge in, to peel the man’s arms off of Y/N and drag him away from her. But before he can, Y/N takes control once more, changing the subject. Yet still, Bucky keeps a wary eye on the man. He flexes his metal arm, ensuring he’s ready to jump in and protect Y/N.

Whatever the cost.

Thankfully though, only a few hours later (albeit longer than Bucky would’ve liked), the agent suddenly has to leave, bringing the mission to a halt. And soon, Y/N is back safe and sound in the compound with the others. 

“Well done Y/N.” Steve praises, and Sam nods.

“Yeah. Great job.” Bucky murmurs, his tone causing Y/N to raise a brow.

“Guys, can I speak to Bucky alone for a moment, please?” she asks. Glancing at each other, Steve and Sam nod and leave the room. “So. What’s up with you?”

“Nothing.” he shrugs. Scoffing, Y/N rolls her eyes. 

“Bucky, there’s no point in lying. I know you.” She’s right, she does know him really well. Sometimes, Bucky swears that Y/N knows him better than anyone else. Even better than Steve. There’s no way he could even try to hide his feelings from her. “And besides, you were staring daggers out the window the whole ride back. Now, tell me what the problem is.”

“I just… when you were with that guy, I was worried about you, okay?!”

“Aww Bucky, you really do care about me!” she grins, giggling like it’s just a joke. But little does she know, Bucky doesn’t see it that way.

“I do care about you! Fuck Y/N, I care about you more than anything in this world, and the thought of that… that sicko being anywhere near you, o-or laying his hands on you makes me feel sick!” He exclaims, the words slipping out without another thought. “I know how good you are at going undercover, but the last thing I want is you getting hurt.” Y/N’s eyes widen.

“Oh… oh.” As silence falls amongst the pair, Bucky’s heart pounds. Why did it all have to slip out like that? Maybe keeping it in for so long has finally taken its toll. Y/N stares back at him, still silent. Bucky blushes, his cheeks turning scarlet. Now he looks like an idiot. A total lovesick idiot. 

“I’ll, um. I’ll go.” 

“No, wait.” Y/N stops him as he starts to leave, reaching out and touching his arm. “I-I never knew you felt that way about me, Bucky. Thank you.” she smiles, and Bucky nods.

“Y/N, I have been in love with you for as long as I can remember.” he admits, chuckling slightly. “You’re very special to me, Y/N.”

“And you’re special to me too, Buck. I’m so glad to have someone like you looking out for me.” Before Bucky can even respond, she presses a kiss to his cheek, his stubble lightly grazing against her lips. This almost sends Bucky’s heart into overdrive, and he swears his skin tingles from where she kissed him. “I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember, and I had no idea you felt the same way about me.” she whispers, her words making Bucky’s mouth drop open. “I need to go type out my mission report, but maybe we can grab dinner afterwards? I think we have a lot to talk about.”

“Yeah, yeah, that sounds good.” Bucky nods. And then she heads down the hallway, waving goodbye. Even after she disappears from sight, Bucky still stares down the hall. He cups his cheek, still feeling it burn from when she kissed him. Still dumbstruck at how Y/N likes him back. A goofy grin overtakes his face. 

Despite how badly tonight started, he’s never been as happy as he is right now.

Please follow @onceuponastory-library​ and turn on notifications to be notified when I next post!

[meloodyxx]

Boatem Hero Six | Character Entries | 1/?

Pearl Escent-Moon

second year biotechnology major at san fransokyo institute of technology

Pearl always had a thing for the flora. Whether it was the tiny lilypads floating in the water, the gorgeous sunflowers glistering in the sunlight, the colorful colors a coral reef displayed... It was like heaven on earth for her, and her parents spent an outrageously long time trying to convince her to at least relocate half of her plants since they claimed that her room wasnt a rainforest. Pearl couldn't think of anything that could stop her trying to make it one, though. (Except basic common sense, which by time we will all notice, this group lacks.)

When she got accepted to the prestigious san fransokyo institute of technology, she was ecstatic. She had always been good at science in her school days, and to connect that with her passion for botany seemed like the perfect choice. Plus, she could have new friends with similar interests with her there. Which made her very happy, since it was a rare occurrence, growing up in a small town and all that.

And well, she did make those friends! Pearl now had Mumbo, Impulse, Scar, Tango... and Gem! of course. Can't believe she almost forgot Gem.

Now, all she needed to do was figuring out what the heck she was gonna do with the strange looking plants that were all over her backyard. Those which behaves unlike any she's seen.

Also maybe check on Grian. He wasn't doing so well recently. But neither was Pearl. Maybe they needed to talk. Maybe they should. Pearl doesn't know. She doesn't know a lot of things. It had been 3 weeks. They all needed answers.

But she just got permission to use one of the portable super microscopes outside of school! And those turquoise twisty viney things developed a sticky exterior that was just begging to be studied.

pearl once believed that everything could be solved with a closer look. she wasn't sure about that anymore.

[chowplanet]

So I'm going to make another rant this time for Jackie Bouvier Kennedy Onassis. Enough with the corny, "she eats metal sheets," meme of Jackie. Okay, we all know she wasn't super gorgeous like Jessical Alba or Scarlett Johansson level, I get it. Jackie's teeth does remind me she drank coffee and smoked a lot. This lady has been through so much in her younger years. She lost three children before JFK's assassination. If JFK Jr. died before his mother on the plane accident she would have witnessed four of children's deaths. We all know she grew up rich and privileged, so she isn't "relatable" like Marilyn Monroe. This doesn't mean Jackie Kennedy never dealt with problems growing up. There are rumors that she was possibly a racist all because she didn't liked her wedding dress which designed by a black woman, but how come no one is mentioning Jackie invited a black female opera singer to the white house to perform when the black female opera singer was struggling financially? I know it's Marilyn Monroe's cult worshippers dissing and roasting Jackie Kennedy on a daily basis. But let me tell you this Jackie Kennedy had the right to be upset at both her husband (JFK) and Marilyn Monroe. It takes two to tango and Monroe knew he was a married man. Sophia Loren, Barbara Eden (I dreamed of Jeannie), Trippi Hedren, Olivia De Havilland, and Jean Simmons all rejected or decline JFK because they were aware he was married. He wanted to hook up with them, and those ladies all turned him down. So please do not come to me by saying Marilyn Monroe was 100% a victim when clearly she wasn't forced to have an affair with the president and his married brother (RFK). I also want to give Jackie major props for telling Marilyn Monroe on the phone since she kept on calling the White House and bragging to Jackie that she was going to steal her husband. Jackie didn't backed down nor was intimidated. She hold her posture by telling Monroe she can move in to deal with the problems while she moves out and does not have to deal with being a Kennedy wife or a first lady anymore. I say Jackie was ballsy. That was so gangsta of her. That was one bad ass first lady besides Eleanor Roosevelt and Dolly Madison. This woman has to witness her husband getting shot right next to her while her pink suit is dreaded with his blood and his dead body on her lap all the way from Dealey Plaza to Parkland Hospital. After that she has to take care of two children. She has to move out of the White House very quickly around the Thanksgiving holiday. So people saying she isn't strong enough or smart enough (Jackie spoke five different languages) is absurd. I don't think some people would be in Jackie's shoes especially the ones who are saying she wasn't a strong woman. People are also going in on her because she wasn't some kind of a Hollywood actress like Monroe. I don't think Jackie ever gave a (bleep). She didn't care about that Hollywood lifestyle, nor she cared Marilyn is a Hollywood icon. One thing for sure Jackie is not going to kiss certain people's butts just because they have that title. I like her punk attitude that she didn't care for celebrity worship culture. People are really giving Marilyn a pass because she was a blonde and blue eye Hollywood legend. Enough is enough. JFK and Marilyn were wrong. Jackie could have been killed on November 22, 1963. She was right there next to her murdered husband. And no one seems to care because she wasn't "hot and fine" enough. It is crazy to find out the last thing JFK saw was his wife's face before before getting shot in the head. Hopefully in the afterlife he thought about the things he put Jackie through here on earth. That he really had a good woman in his life. Sad just sad.

And by the way, I've noticed people are mocking JFK's death more often compared to Abraham Lincoln. I don't know because Lincoln is more respected (which I love how he is still respected to this day) or is because some enviousness is going on around here. Whatever it is stop with the corny JFK's jokes about his head exploded. Idk but it's giving jealousy and envy. Maybe it has something to do with he hooked up with Marilyn and other people wish they were in his position to do so. Whatever it is, stop with the mad corny jokes it isn't even funny. I'm talking to you Reddit users, TikTok, YouTube, and Instagram users.

[silverskye13]

I have a question about the "short" story (and seriously, don't sell yourself that short (ha), that was incredible and amazing):

what level of canon is this? Is it still the same sort of "filler episode in anime" canon, or more, or less?

Regardless, absolutely stunning and I loved every single second of reading it in my bones. It's so wonderfully done, from Tango's realisation that HK is more complicated than evil or not evil, to Wels' begrudging help (if only because HK is suffering more than he would wish on anybody), to the universe section (and just you wait universe, that spark of never was and never should be is going to become a shining, glorious star and you will love it all the same as your precious hermits), to the simple act of cleaning the armour, setting right what was wronged. So absolutely gorgeous and breathtakingly written and every time I read your writing I fall a little more in love with the way you tell stories!!!!

[wiggles my hand back and forth]

Canonicity is hard to answer, I still think "anime filler episode" fits best. It's not going to be brought up in RnS, but it's affected by RnS events. If I tried to put it in the main fic, it would destroy the canon timeline, but it clearly happened after one thing and before another. For me, these shorts are mostly character exploration [which is why I compare them to anime filler because that's what filler episodes are generally used for, aside from padding time.] It's helping me clarify thoughts and motivations, so when I breach similar things in the main plot, I have a better idea of What, How, Why. So to me, they're canon.

Helsknight having a very real, and very new, fear of being overly cruel in the face of violence when he started the story as a character who thought knights were allowed to be both knightly and, you know, mean, and still be knights -- I think that's something he'll have to wrestle with. And Helsknight worrying about being measured based on his own choices and perceived shortcomings divorced from Wels is something I think he'll have to reckon with. And the fact that the Hermits don't know about shaky helsmet respawn, don't have context for how Wide a world hels is, also needs reckoned with in RnS.

I don't think it'll necessarily be handled the same way in RnS. The specific circumstances of the short isn't going to happen in context. But things that bring up similar points will happen, and it's nice taking a second to start hashing them out for myself in a lower stakes place first.

Hopefully! That makes sense!

As to the rest of that! Thank you!! For the kind words!! Honestly this "short" [hah] was a lot of fun to fiddle with. A lot of fights and philosophy, and also? RnS Helsknight and Tango fun dynamic? I wish they got to interact in the main story more. There is so much shenanigan potential there. Both of them need someone who'll pump the breaks on whatever crazy things they're gonna do next, and while Helsknight isn't necessarily an enabler, Tango sure as heck is.

[Also! Glad the Universe bit was well received. I like the idea as this Thing That Exists and it's not quite sentient enough to have intent but not quite elemental enough to be blameless in what it does. I always picture it as like if a hurricane could observe and feel, but still couldn't necessarily control where it went. A force of nature that is along for the ride, and sometimes shifts its weight to throw things off the rails.]

[thewanderingmask]

Hellooo sorry to barge into your inbox like this but I am going FERAL over your Joel winner art so I hope you can excuse this senseless essay of a ramble

First off, stained glass window art?? Yes please?? I love how the entire fandom has just accepted that kind of style for the winners and it's FABULOUS. I absolutely adore your art style and Joel looks SO COOL in it!!! The sword and the ender pearl is perfect (the sword because he's a fighter, the pearl because that's how he died!!)

The hands around him!!! I LOVE how distinct every single one of them are, you can immediately tell who they belonged to. (Okay, the black long-sleeve thumbs-up is giving me trouble. Gem?? But the others going clockwise I BELIEVE are Pearl (the crown ring!!), Ren, Bdubs, Cleo, Tango, Grian, and Etho.)

The backgrounds are LOVELY and immediately distinct: Gem's barn, Scott's cake, Scar's roller coaster, the Tuff Guy's bases, the Spanner's bridges, and the bamboo for the Bamboozlers!!

THE FIVE PREVIOUS WINNERS!!! Quite frankly I consider it silly that we've been canoodling around with celestial objects for so long and I LOVE the symbols you chose for everyone- the red eye for Grian, the stars for beloved Scott, the crescent moon for Pearl, the sunflower for Scar and Martyn's shirt design!!

I'm deeply fascinated by the flowers- the cherry blossom is most likely a tie to his s10 base, but cherry blossoms also symbolize the balance between life and death, beauty and violence. Very fitting for our family-oriented yet ever bloodthirsty Joel!! The blue ones are most likely forget-me-nots, which also fits very well with Joel's ideals of making alliances and having "friends, not family".

"It's Your Turn"... man, I was rooting so hard for Joel this season and I'm SO HAPPY he won. Man deserves a victory.

I'm terribly sorry for this block of text but I just really wanted to tell you that your art is APPRECIATED and your style is FABULOUS and it always makes me smile when it pops up. Keep creating, my friend, because you have gorgeous talent and I'm incredibly grateful you shared it with us. Cheers!

hi anon and thank you for this lovely message, it made my day

longer art talk under the cut

you're absolutely right about all the hands, well done figuring out gem! it was based on her red life skin, but i couldn't think of anything to make it more clear who it was.

(at least, not until after i'd already finished and posted the piece)

flower language is rad and i did wonder about the meaning of the ones in here, but didn't actually think to look anything up. i like that the blue ones are forget-me-nots! i added them to the winners' circle as a nod to cleo's avatar!

because i literally forgot there were 6 previous winners until i'd already committed to the composition.

the series i forgot about was actually limited life. idk why. i'm new actually haven't seen any series before this one. (i also had to check with a friend of mine who's been watching the series a lot longer, to see if the symbols i'd picked would work for the other victors)

anyway since Real Life was april fools and not really played the same way as the others, i figured it made sense to add martin to the symmetrical circle of 5, and put something around the circle to represent cleo. hence the blue and yellow flowers!

and yep the sakura is hugely inspired by his hermitcraft base, plus the trees at the site of the final fight. learning it has meanings that work so well for his performance just puts such a smile on my face!

(since drawing this, i've seen other people using a comet, which is also so freaking good)

anyway thank you again for this ask, and for giving me an excuse to go off about how i put Very Much Thoughts into art sometimes

i haven't really interacted with many folks in the fandom itself! i'm shy, and i'm generally pretty happy to sit quietly in my corner and sometimes throw a piece of art to the winds to go wherever it might. but a result is that i don't always know how my art is received, if it lands, or it if it feels off to folks who've been around longer.

so your message made me really happy today! thank you!

[katkat030]

whats your favorite mc skin from life series/hermitcraft !!

Life series:

It is so, so hard to pick just one, so I've settled on a 3-way tie between this particular amazing Secret Life Scar skin, Gem's gorgeous yellow skin (also from Secret Life) and the iconic 5am Pearl skin.

Hermitcraft:

So I couldn't decide on a single skin here either buuut these are my six favourites from Season 9!

From left to right; mossy Bdubs, cleaner lady Pearl, bone mage Xisuma, elven Gem and both the matador? mattress store? and elf Scar skins.

I couldn't find a frosted tips Tango or a sculk Cub (used tier lists to get a lineup of all their skins) but they would absolutely be here too.

[ask-hotguy]

Woah! A stunning superhero such as me has an ask blog? No way!

Here he is, the one, the only, the hottest most handsome man you've ever seen, your favorite superhero, hOtgUy!! (Or you could just spell it Hot Guy. That works too. Hehe.)

[ooc note; This is a Hot Guy roleplay/lore blog! Inspired off of the other lovely hermit roleplay blogs! ..I wish I was Hot Guy, oh, to be a hero-complexed buff man with soft brown hair and gorgeous green eyes...]

Please no politics, don't curse in my ask box! + Sometimes my ask box eats answers :( also, important announcement here regarding boundaries.

Step this way for Hot Guy tidbits!! 🏹⬇️

-=×+×=-

🏹 Very clearly, as you can see, I am the handsomest man around, check out my muscles! Watch me flex!

🏹 I've never shared this with the public, but... (Hehe, butt-) ..often I have to use supports! It's tiring, running around this way and that, my poor legs can't keep up without some help!

🏹 This blast scar on my cheek? I got it years ago! I was saving civilians when an explosion went off! Luckily, the only things that were hurt were my pride and the entire right side of my body.. a mere flesh wound, I say!

🏹 My personality? I'd say I'm quite the charismatic man! People love me! And of course, I love the people, I wouldn't be where I am today without them. The more positive attention, the better I do fighting horrible horrible villains!

🏹 Dyslexic? ..who told you that? I'm not relying on autocorrect!!

🏹 cUtEgUy? Ooh, he's cute, alright... Hehe!

-=×+×=-

Other blogs!!

Scar - @ask-gtwscar

Grian - @ask-grian

Ariana Griande - @arianagriand3

Cute Guy - @ask-cuteguy

Poultry Man - @iampoultryman

Mumbo - @ask-mumbojumbo

Jimmy - @ask-jimmy-solidarity

Tango - @ask-tangotek

Zedaph - @ask-zedaph

Xisuma - @ask-xisuma

Evil X - @ask-evil-x

Etho - @asketho

BDubs - @askbdubsblog

Gem - @ask-gemgem

Joel - @ask-smallishbeans

Ren - @askrendog

Martyn - @ask-martyn

Doc - @ask-docm77

-=×+×=-

[ooc; this blog is inspired off of not only the lovely ask-gtwscar, but also ddvau Hot Guy! (To make it extra clear, I'm not roleplaying as ddvau Hot Guy, I'm inspired by him. And I am not the same moderator as ask-gtws!!)

I am a person too, so please don't get frustrated if I don't answer an ask right away. I could be busy, after all! Hot Guy could be fighting villains!!

Don't be weird about the content creators! I will try to be accurate regarding the character Hot Guy/Scar, but I am not based off of mister content creator Scar himself!

I will be marking character tags and other tags with emojis to avoid maintagging!

Also, this blog welcomes both normal asks and lore with open arms! However please avoid tagging this blog in huge threads, it might be an issue to read through it all and keep caught up. Thank you!]

[thefireintheshadow]

live

[for the mcyt summer of yuri 2024, gift for @ski89 ]

“Gem, you don’t want to do this, right?” Pearl’s voice would sound so collected to the untrained ear, but Gem knew better. She seemed confident, leading, like she was weaving psychological warfare, but Gem knew the undertones of anguish. They bubbled just under the surface, turmoil and fear and conflict.

She knew Pearl didn’t want to kill her. But she also knew that Pearl wouldn’t betray her teammates. Pearl was loyal until death. Her Pearl. Her everything.

How had this gone so fucking wrong? “No, I don’t,” Gem said, and she didn’t bother to disguise the pain. Her eyes pleaded with the woman she loved. She so badly didn’t want to do this. But she had teammates to care for, too. If it was just her, she would have laid down her sword. She would rather Scar slay her than have to raise her weapon against Pearl.

But she wasn’t alone. They’d ended up on opposing sides, somehow—how—and it was the end of the line, now. The end of this sick fucking game.

Pearl raised her chin, a stoic goddess, but Gem didn’t miss the slight quiver of her bottom lip, even from so far away. “So maybe you should be over here.”

Tears sprung to Gem’s eyes, because if only it were that simple, if only, if only. It wasn’t, and they both knew it. This was a dance they were doing simply to delay the inevitable because fuck, it was inevitable, and it was horrible, and she just wanted to be back home. Home. It felt so far away now.

“Maybe you should be over here,” Gem said, her voice strained, her heart aching, wanting to throw everything away and fling herself into Pearl’s arms, and fuck it all.

But they couldn’t. They had to finish this. Finish it fighting. Finish it to the best of their ability, to appease the sick entities that had put them here. It was her first time in one of these death games, and after apologizing profusely for the sick fate that had brought her here, Grian had given her a rundown on how it all worked.

Gem had thought she’d understood the level of PTSD her friends had when they returned from these things. She hadn’t. But she thought she did now.

She gave it her all. And when Scar struck her down, the only other option having been her and Pearl crossing swords, she was glad for the small mercy.

She opened her eyes on Hermitcraft, gasping, ghosts of wounds still pulsing along every nerve ending in her body. Pearl’s cry of anguish as she’d fallen echoed in her mind, but it was okay, it was okay and there were only two of them left so she would be here soon too.

Gem wanted to curl up into a ball and cry, bury herself in blankets and safety and just ride it out, but she didn’t want Pearl to wake up alone. She didn’t want her to feel empty and abandoned and all of the nasty emotions that swelled despite knowing that none of them had a choice.

She picked herself up, head feeling heavy. Her antlers felt like home, but it was almost a foreign feeling. Her ears twitched, and she reached up to run her fingers over the soft fur, as if to reassure herself they were there.

Gem opted to walk to Pearl’s. It wasn’t far and she couldn’t handle flying at the moment with her mind reeling like this. Walking was safer, through the warm and welcoming woods she’d built with her own hands. Across the bridge carved from stone as a symbol of friendship between her and Impulse and Pearl.

She checked to see if he was home, but he wasn’t. He tended to spend time with Tango after these games, and she hoped that they were doing okay, that they were coping together.

Gem approached Pearl’s gorgeous landscape, the clopping of her hooves sounding like gunshots in the still air. She didn’t know how long it would be. Or who would be back first.

---

As Gem’s body fell, lightning striking the ground where her bloodied form had been, Pearl’s heart shattered. It was the best she could have hoped for, she knew, she hadn’t wanted it to be her and Gem at the end, but it still wrenched her to see it.

She hadn’t wanted to win. And it was a sweet release when she plummeted towards the ground, leaving Scar the victor.

Guilt twisted her guts, because she knew it was selfish. ‘Winning’ wasn’t really winning. It was hell. Double Life had been the worst experience of any of them, and being the last alive had been a torturous curse.

Now it was Scar. Now he was condemned, and she was free, and she hoped that he would forgive her.

She opened her eyes and sat up in her bed, and it smelled like home and it was home and—

“Pearl,” Gem choked out, and her voice was so small and watery.

Pearl blinked a few times before her death-addled brain registered that the woman she loved was curled up at the end of her bed, knees against her chest, eyes brimming with tears, pale and shellshocked and in agony.

“Oh, Gem,” Pearl breathed, and pulled her close, Gem’s face into her chest, resting her cheek atop her fluffy orange hair, nuzzling against one of her soft ears, breathing in the scent of her.

Gem’s sobs wracked her body, and she clutched at Pearl like she was the only thing anchoring her to this earth. She released everything and Pearl held her, whispering soft noises of comfort, running her hands up and down her back.

The first time was the biggest shock to the system. Being the winner was harder, but the first time you didn’t know what to expect. It all came crashing down so hard after.

Pearl hurt, too, but she’d been around this block many a time. Nobody could ever get used to this, but she knew what it was like to have it worse than this. And it could have been so much worse. She could have had to fight Gem head on.

Her intrusive brain wondered what it would have been like if Gem had killed Scar. There had to be a winner, always, so Grian said. She didn’t know what the Secret Keeper would have done if they’d have refused to do it. If they’d have just decided to live in that war torn world together, forever, embracing instead of fighting.

Would they have been in for a worse fate? Had there been a time limit on the final task? Could they have smashed the fail button together, died together?

They would never know, now.

Eventually Gem’s violent sobs subsided into sniffles, and Pearl waited patiently for her to be ready to pull back, sitting up and wiping furiously at her eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” Gem hiccuped. “I came here to comfort you when you spawned, and—” Her words choked off.

“No, no,” Pearl cupped her cheeks in her hands, pressing their foreheads together. “You have nothing to be sorry for, sweet girl. I’m just so happy you’re here, that we’re both here.”

Gem nodded, lower lip still trembling. “You said it’s easier,” she said thickly, “to be on different teams…so we wouldn’t end up having to turn on each other if we made it to the end.”

Pearl swallowed hard.

“But nothing is really easier ever there, is it?” Gem whispered.

“No,” Pearl admitted. “We’re all just doing the best we can. Then we get out. Then we heal.”

Gem took a deep breath, looking up into her love’s eyes, her own big and round. “How do we do that?”

Pearl kissed her softly, taking in the brightness of her, the wholeness, the feeling that everything was okay in the world. “We live.”

[read on ao3]