#ender writes

Before Pearl could even react, the musical accompaniment to the wild card announcement blares around her, getting her to jolt up. The groan building up in her throat can’t quite make its way out, fighting a losing battle with the sniffles and shallow breaths she’s forcing herself to take.

Guess she can’t even have some time to herself without the Game ruining the moment, huh?

Still, her instincts kick in with the help of the scare she’s just received. She… She has to keep going. Figure out what wild card got activated, find Cleo, and then…

Then…

Well, she’ll figure that out later.

Judging from the music that played after the new wild card activation, it’s probably that superpower card that got played. It’s definitely one of the better ones to be played at the moment, compared to having another crowd of mobs or a snail chasing her. Now, she just has to see which power she got.

Here goes nothing…

An uneasy feeling pools out from her gut, but she concentrates on using her power anyway.

At first, nothing changes about her. No goggles, no invisibility—

And then everything goes dark.

She yelps as her line of sight reduces to what’s within her arm’s reach, unable to catch her breath as something— no, multiple things rumble beneath her— the ground shakes, crumbling away to welcome a cacophony of gurgles and grumbles.

“What the heck—” Pearl mutters to herself, blinking furiously in an attempt to clear her vision.

She stumbles backwards.

Her back hits a body.

So, she whips around to face whoever—

Scar?

And it’s not just Scar. It’s Lizzie, and Jimmy, and Scott and Impulse and—

Oh.

Had her mind been given some time to actually think and process everything that’s been happening, she’d have most likely made some comment on how the Game just had to mock her one last time by giving her the power to bring her allies back from the dead. The cruelty of it all would certainly fall in line with what she’s been through so far.

But she can’t even get a word out. A whole group of corpses are staring at her, waiting on her.

Waiting for a command. That’s what Cleo did with Mumbo and Skizz, yeah? Give them a command, and they have to follow it.

“Uh,” Pearl starts, her heartbeat reverberating in her skull. What can she tell them to do? She doesn’t even know what she’s supposed to do right now, let alone instruct a whole band of zombies! Oh, and their gazes do not help at all, by the way.

What would someone else do here? She’s seen Cleo summon their zombies a handful of times, maybe if she just copy whatever they did before, it’ll work?

“Kill, um…” Pearl bites her lip. “Kill Joel. Go kill Joel.”

A couple of the undead cheer at the command, immediately running off to who knows where, because Pearl has no clue where Joel is. Or why she even picked Joel to begin with.

What she knows is that the command worked, and the zombies are dispersing. Honestly, she could care less about whether or not the zombies achieve the task or not. It was more to get them moving, get them doing something. She’s got to make some use of them, after all.

It’s also nice to not have all her friend’s rotting bodies watching her. She doesn’t have to look them in the eye and think about how she’s failed them again. That’s always a plus.

Alright, she sighs, enough of that. Time to find Cleo.

Pulling herself out of the daze she’s found herself in, she properly scouts out her surroundings. There’s her group of zombies bumbling about trying to find Joel, and there’s the Tuff Guys off in the distance, then there’s Gem—

Then there’s Gem.

Gem, with her head of fiery orange hair dampened by grime, a splatter of dried blood stuck on her cheek, her clothes grey and her skin lifeless.

Gem, who died mere minutes ago.

Gem, who makes Pearl feel as though a hand’s been plunged into her chest, when in reality she hasn’t laid a single hand on her.

“Kill Joel,” Pearl repeats, knowing full well how frantic she sounds as she does so. “I said— I said kill Joel. You’re supposed to do what I say.”

Gem’s eyes are greyed out as well, devoid of that glint that flashes whenever she makes a snarky comment, or the hatred she’d used to aim directly at Pearl when she visited, or anything that makes her stand out.

“Can you just— go?” Pearl makes a step towards Gem, but it gets no reaction from the body. “Go, okay? Just go somewhere else. Shoo.”

Barely suppressing the whine in her throat, Pearl resorts to drawing out her sword.

“Oh, you just had to come back and do this to me, didn’t you? I get not wanting to kill Joel, but this—” Pearl makes a wild swing through the air, missing Gem by a wide margin. “This isn’t funny, alright? You go weeks pushing me away, hating me when I’ve done nothing to you, and when you’re red you wanna be friends again? And— And you couldn’t even follow through on that.”

She rushes forward, bringing her blade a hair’s breadth from Gem’s neck.

“Go.” Pearl holds her sword as still as she possibly can, but even then, she can’t stop the trembling of her hand. The wavering of her voice. “Go? Please?”

It’s pathetic how she can’t even command her own minion to follow her instructions. It’s just pathetic. She can imagine Gem making fun of her already. If she put more energy into it, maybe she could warp the taut line that Gem’s lip forms into a smirk. Just a hint, a corner upturned or an amused huff. Gem would be laughing at her. Teasing her. She knows Gem would be.

She tilts the handle of her sword just slightly. The blade kisses the body’s pale neck.

Why can’t Gem just react? Why won’t she listen to her? Why couldn’t they have tried a little harder?

“Why’d you have to die on me like that, Gem?” Pearl chuckles, a bitter thing that she swallows back down as she drops her sword. There’s no point in killing her now, anyway. There’s nothing more she can do.

Gem doesn’t say anything. Not that Pearl was expecting her to.

It’s pathetic, but Pearl slumps onto Gem’s body, burying her head into the decaying shoulder.

A pair of stiff arms wrap around her, awkwardly moving with death’s rigidity to attempt a firm hold on Pearl.

author's note: the backstory made it way too long, so i cut it out in the original ask, but i quite like the full story considering i did it on three hours of sleep in the early morning lol i really looked at a short sun and moon prompt and went "but what if we threw in a royalty + nature spirit backstory"

at the end i explain/clarify confusing parts of the story!

---

Tubbo was sick of being royalty.

“Prince” this and “duties” that. He was only sixteen, for fuck’s sake! He had two more years until he became the king. Surely, he could get at least a moment to himself every now and then?

But no, his parents decided to fill his schedule with lessons and jobs, none of which he cared much about. It had been four months since he turned sixteen: four months since his painful schedule was set in, and four months of the pressure building up.

A loaded crossbow is inevitably bound to shoot.

And he was shooting his shot.

Tubbo ran his hand along the mossy cobblestone wall around the garden, the moon illuminating the pale lichen’s faint glow. He had snuck out of his bedroom window and scaled down the side of the castle, ditching the silk robes and a golden crown for simple commoners’ wear. He hadn’t done this for four months— he had tried to follow all the rules, he really did— but he was so tired of following the rules. He was going insane in that damn palace.

He didn’t even want to be a king. He never wanted to be born royalty, and even worse the only heir to the throne. It was only four months, but it was too much. He couldn’t survive the rest of his life like that.

Following the wall, he ducked under low tree branches, squeezing past carefully pruned rose bushes and pushing aside a curtain of vines to reveal a hole in the stone. After seeing that nobody was watching, Tubbo crawled underneath to the other side.

An overgrown meadow spread before him, surrounded by a ring of various trees and filled with undergrowth of every kind. A light dusting of snow from a late snowfall glittered on the grass, and Tubbo’s shins quickly became soaked as he walked through. He made his way to the other end of the small field, reaching a shallow creek bubbling on the stones. Tubbo sat down on a large rock, smooth and flat at the top from years of use, and leaned towards the water.

“Hey, Ranboo, it’s me.” The prince brushed his unruly dark locks from his eyes, feeling an uncomfortable tightness in his chest suddenly rise to his throat. “Tubbo.”

The creek was silent. Crickets chirped, the wind tousled his hair, but nothing else seemed alive. It had been a long time, he realized, since he last visited. It had been so, so long.

Tubbo felt his chest tighten more. It’s fair. If I was in his shoes, abandoned without warning for four months straight, I’d probably feel the same-

A huge splash of water suddenly caught the worried boy in the face. He let out a surprised yelp as cold hands grabbed him around the waist and yanked him into the water, shocking him with the chill.

“Tubbo?” a familiar voice cried, squeezing Tubbo tightly. “Oh my god, are you okay? Why were you gone for so long? I didn’t know where you were! I thought- I thought you were dead!”

“Ranboo, I can’t fucking breathe-”

“Oh. Sorry.” Ranboo let go of him, but firmly held onto Tubbo’s hand. “You good?”

Tubbo shook water from his hair and grinned at his best friend. “Hell yeah, dude.”

Ranboo’s eyes never left Tubbo’s face. He was certainly clingy, seemingly worried that if he wasn’t watching Tubbo, he would disappear. Ranboo was usually taller than him, though he currently was merged with the creek so he appeared shorter. He had dark blond, wavy hair that was pushed to one side, and his irises were two different colors: the left was sea green, and the right salmon red. He appeared human to Tubbo for most of the time, but usually was translucent blue all around, simply a shape of the water. A canvas shirt covered his torso, but his hips and below were combined with the running river.

Ranboo was a river spirit.

And Tubbo was not supposed to be his friend.

“Where were you all along?” the spirit asked anxiously. “You were gone for so long!”

“Princely shit.” He splashed the water irritably, sitting in the shallow creek. “They want to mold me into the perfect king. My coronation isn’t for two years, and I’m already going insane.”

Ranboo furrowed his brow in worry. “Oh.”

“So I was thinking,” Tubbo pressed, “is that we elope.”

The spirit let go of his hand in shock. “What?-”

“We run away.”

“‘Elope’ means running away to get married.”

“We could do that too.”

“I- okay then. But how does that work? I’m literally a river spirit who can’t travel far from a water source. You’re the only prince of the kingdom. We aren’t necessarily… normal people who can just run away.”

Tubbo scoffed. “Well, yeah. Which is why I bought these.” The prince pulled out two potions of different colors from his pocket.

“Where did you get those from?” he asked, eyeing the liquids suspiciously.

Tubbo offered helpfully, “They’re not drugs.”

“Well, that's a reassurance,” Ranboo said sarcastically. “Who did you get that from?”

“Just some god that is also an architect at the palace. Foolish, the god of Undying?” Tubbo smirked at Ranboo’s shocked expression. “Yep. He’s in the palace. And long story short, he gave me these two immortality potions. We drink them, and at midnight, boom! We’re gods.”

It was too good to be true. “That’s… too easy,” he said.

“It wasn’t. Believe me. I- I spent a week and this cost me a shit ton of stuff. But that’s a story for another day.” Tubbo said firmly. He caught Ranboo’s worried expression. “Hey, it’ll be just fine, bossman! Do you trust me?”

He took a breath. “I- Yes. I trust you.”

“Okay. So we drink these, and then a bunch of shit happens and Foolish gets notified and he makes us gods and all that,” Tubbo listed breezily. He pointed to the moon, half in shadow, above them. “It’s almost midnight, so drink up, waterboy.” The prince handed Ranboo the silver bottle and kept the gold one for himself. “Cheers. To a new life?”

“To… yeah. To a new life.”

Together, they uncorked the bottles and downed their potions.

---

The Sun god and Moon god were blessed with immortality, but cursed with eternal service. Godhood comes with a price.

It was rather unfortunate that the two never got to see each other. Sun and Moon only knew the other based on their voices, but the rest was unknown. If they were friends, it would have been much harder, their only sentient interactions being with them for a few minutes a day.

So thank goodness the Sun god and Moon god didn’t have a past together and weren’t friends.

Right?

---

A year passed.

Ranboo didn’t know the Sun god’s name.

Tubbo didn’t know the Moon god’s name.

Both didn’t know who they used to be.

---

Ranboo was the Moon, and he was lonely.

He was the Moon god. Always split half light and half darkness, perfect yin and yang. He knew his job was to bring the inky darkness of night to the living below, and to draw up the sunrise as the Sun began his journey.

Sometimes he got to greet the Sun at dusk, when he got up. At sunrise and sunset, when they were both in the sky, Ranboo would greet him cheerfully and ask how he was doing. He didn’t know what the Sun’s name was, just that they were polar opposites. And given that he didn’t really know him, the first time he woke up, that was okay with him. They were co-workers, acquaintances, gods doing their jobs.

But time began to pass by quickly. Hundreds of sunsets and sunrises came and went, and Ranboo got to learn more about Sun. He was sweet and rambunctious, dirty-minded and kind, thoughtful and reckless. He was chaotic and energetic and really, being the Sun god fit his fiery personality quite well.

Ranboo was cursed with a strange schedule that forced wave-like patterns in his sleep. It also forced him to minimize his interactions with Sun. But it was fine, because they only got to speak in the few minutes at sunrise and sunset, anyways. He still was kind of a stranger.

It wasn’t as if the Moon god had grown fond of the other, and it wasn’t as if every minute with him turned out to be a lovely one.

---

Tubbo was the Sun, and he was lonely.

Only in quick moments when his shift started and ended did he get to speak to Moon. Moon controlled the tides of the world below, pulling the oceans up and back in a lulling roll as he journeyed across the sky. Moon was calm, gentle, friendly, and peaceful. He was respectful of Sun and often politely asking him questions and trying to get to know him.

Tubbo couldn’t help but wonder if he had known Moon in the past, before godhood. Moon was familiar to him, but was only deja vu: he knew he was supposed to know who Moon was, but he couldn’t remember it for the life of him.

Moon was always a mystery to Tubbo. He got to know the god’s mannerisms and speaking patterns and favorite colors, but the rest of him was just… ambiguous. The Moon god didn’t share much about himself, but as time went on, Tubbo realized that Moon simply didn’t know.

He was just as much a stranger to himself as Tubbo was, and that made the Sun god sad. Because the Moon god didn’t even have himself to keep him company.

---

“Hey, Moon, do you have any friends?”

“I- well no, um, not really. I don’t remember anything from before.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“What about you? Do you remember any friends?”

“Nah, I don’t know if I’ve ever had any.”

“Mhm, mhm.”

“Hey, Moon?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to be friends?”

“...sure, why not?”

---

They met one day at the Sun’s peak in the sky. It was an eclipse, a brief moment where their paths would cross, and they would be able to see each other for the first time. As the Moon moved faster, he reached the Sun first.

Sun had chestnut brown hair in unruly waves, streaked with pale highlights, and a thin golden crown-like halo floated above his head. Delicate yellow hummingbird wings were folded on his back. He wore a simple tan tunic with gold embroidery, fighting bandages were wrapped around his forearms and knuckles, and on his feet, iridescent winged boots kept him hovering just slightly. Fire flicked around him in sparks, and Ranboo could feel the heat radiating off his body. His back was to Moon, but he knew immediately that that was the Sun god.

The night god held his breath as he tapped Sun’s shoulder gently.

“Hi, um, Sun? It’s me. Moon.”

The Sun god turned around. Confused, pale aqua eyes met anxious red and green ones. The two gods locked gazes.

Moon’s blood ran cold as Sun asked him, “Who’s that?”

Goosebumps pricked his skin as he noticed Sun’s wings were gone. So was the fancy tunic, halo, fire and aura of heat. He looked normal, mortal, human. Ranboo looked at his own hands and saw the gloves he wore were gone. His back was suddenly lifted from a heavy weight as his wings and cloak vanished. Their goldy appearance had disappeared.

The gods felt their strength, magic, and immortality vanish. They were suddenly vulnerable and mortal. They were no longer The Sun god and the Moon god. They were Tubbo and Ranboo, the runaway prince and water spirit.

Above them, the real moon and sun moved away from each other, the eclipse gone.

And they were falling out of the sky, mortal once more.

------

EXTRA INFO:

Tubbo was the heir to his kingdom (he is 16; would be coronated at 18)

Said kingdom and human society didn’t perceive nature spirits to be equal. They were often put in recreation centers, or hunted. This is why Ranboo is the only nature spirit nearby in the meadow Tubbo crosses through. He’s very lonely. sadge

Ranboo can’t travel too far on land without a water source. He also has a human form, though his touch is always slightly damp and cold.

Tubbo and Ranboo had been friends for a long time. Tubbo would sneak out of the castle to visit Ranboo, but once his prince duties picked up, he couldn’t.

He offered many valuable things (not all of which belonged to him) to Foolish in exchange for the potions

Foolish, the God of Undying, gave Tubbo and Ranboo immortality potions that would essentially send him (Foolish) a flare. In the light of the moon at midnight, he granted them both limited immortality as sky gods.

Ranboo/the Moon can control the tides because he used to be a water spirit. His “sleep cycles” that came in waves (even in the day) are the moon phases.

Both Ranboo and Tubbo lost their memory after being promoted to godhood. They don’t know the other’s real name.

They’re not supposed to touch each other, as gods, which is why they're the sun and moon- separated. So when Ranboo touched Tubbo, he basically undid Foolish’s spell of godhood.

It was a wolf sometimes, sometimes a panther. It was always shadows and mist, not completely solid but the teeth.... the teeth were always solid, always gleaming white in the impossible darkness around me. These silver knives were the only thing I remember clear enough to really know what they were. It was terrifying. I could see clearly as I ran and ran and ran, running from something I didn’t even understand. 

I would wake in a cold sweat when they would pounce, presumably sinking their long, sharp daggers into my neck, my shoulders, my arms. A splitting pain would erupt through me and cause me to scream awake sometimes. Alone in almost darkness, in my own bed with the moon shining her silver light through the windows of the manor. 

Just like tonight, where I screamed awake for what felt like the hundred time. The full moon settled me for a moment, but the phantom pain of teeth in my neck still shook me to the core. I hugged myself under my covers, begging to slip back into a dreamless rest but fate was not kind. 

Instead there was a soft knock on my door, the first of months of staying in this house. I didn’t believe the sound at first, thinking it to be part of my imagination but it happened again. Three quick taps against the solid wood of my bedroom door. 

“Y-yeah?” I call out, sitting up just enough to look at the door from my bed. The door cracked open and a sliver of orange light flowed into my room. It was slightly comforting. But it was quickly covered by a body getting in the way, and Dark’s unmistakable head peeked into the room. 

I didn’t dislike Dark, not one bit. I admired his cunning, his control, his looks and the way he carried himself. But I’d always wanted to keep my distance. I didn’t know what would happen if I got too close to the demon of a man. What horrors I would face if I suddenly found myself between a bed and his teeth. 

“I heard you scream. Is everything alright?” He asked, soft and caring. A facade? I didn’t know and I was honestly too tired to care. 

“Yeah- I’m fine. Just a nightmare. I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“Nonsense, I was already awake.” I glance at the clock now illuminated by the light of the hallway. At 4 am? Likely, but I’d always had a suspicion that Dark never slept anyway. I shrugged, rolling over to the side of the bed closest to the doorway. 

“Well- I’m sorry to disturb you anyway.” He smiled, a small one really, but it was still a smile. One that sent a message of ‘I want something’ through me, but perhaps that was just the anxiety. 

“Nightmares are not kind, would you like some comfort?” A little too familiar but—

“Yes.” The word comes out of my mouth before I even have time to process it. The smile grows, and— 

Teeth. Tearing and ripping, blood dripping down his chin at the end when everything is still and it’s only the smell of iron and a lust for something feral. I shook, the shiver rocketing through me with ice and fire at the same time. 

But as quickly as it came, it went. Dark was closing the door softly with a click, and I can see that he’s wearing sweatpants and a simple black t-shirt. It was very very jarring from his usual black tie aesthetic. I guess even people like him deserved a moment to be comfortable and relax. 

I didn’t know what it was about him that made me feel different things as quickly as flipping a coin. Or why his teeth were so white. I’d heard several theories about the human mind, how they highlight things so clearly when you think you’re in danger. Like how people wake up and see eyes in the darkness, glowing. Only to find the next night they cannot see it in the same blinding color. But I expected it to go away at some point. 

Dark‘s foot falls are soft against the carpet of my room and it only takes him a moment to reach the bed. I scoot over silently to let him lie down, questioning why I feel comfortable with this after such a toxic and intrusive vision from just his smile. Perhaps I felt safe... or— rather I did feel safe with him around. 

He opted to stay on top of my comforter, even after much protest from me that he will be cold. But he insisted and opened his arms for me instead. I hesitated for a long while, which didn’t seem to bother Dark at all, and soon I accepted the odd display of affection and awkwardly snuggled up against his chest and torso.