#smajorbeans

[chlorinated-fishpond]

yeah majorbeans.. yurp

chibi

[evilsorcerer3]

an uke must protect his seme

[eggrolls-and-fandoms]

Also can we talk about how usually Scott resorts to ‘take off armor and fight fair’ when he gets to finale situations like these but one look at Joel and he Knows that they’re both going to fight with everything they have. Can we

[chadrickmd]

My life long wish of Joel and Scott teaming has been granted! AND IT WAS TERRIFYING! Both times they've teamed up (Simple Life) one of them have won.

I said they'd be the final two (kind of but I'm milking my prediction.)

Oh, I was rooting for Scott! But alas! GGs to Joel!

[spooksthenoodles]

Hot Take(?) Scott and joel don't have a one-sided rivalry, it's just that their rivalry is like a Tom and Jerry one, the smart vs the aggressive, and the smart one always wins. BUT short grass duo IS a one-sided rivalry!! (This totally isn't me saying this because if they were both onesided, then the duos/ships would essentially be the same minus small changes in personalities and etho)

[mr-majorbeans]

My babies udufhfjfj

I don't really like the Joel's but oh well Scott's serving

[birddcandle]

is anyone still making gemcyt art or is it just me and my autism

(original designs by @chrisrin !!)

I hath returned and I have brought with me fusion art!! The first one is Tanzanite, the fusion of Grian and Etho! He’s a pretty quiet fusion in terms of speaking, but he is a huge prankster and makes a LOT of noise when he laughs, so he is pretty easily spotted after successfully pulling one off. His weapon is a grenade, as a combo of Grian’s water balloons and Etho’s kunai! He mainly uses them from the sky, utilizing the water wings he inherited from Grian to throw his grenades from the sky onto anyone he wants, friends and foes alike, making him a fun, but shady ally to have on your side. Grian and Etho don’t fuse very often, but when they do, Tanzanite has a lot of fun running around and messing with his friends.

Next up is Larimar, the quite unstable fusion of Scott and Joel. He is a fusion formed solely out of necessity, but even then, he is hardly useful because his favourite thing to do is argue with himself about anything and everything. Despite this, he uses his future vision to fend off attacks with his two ice rapiers, but it is only so he can continue his argument without much interruption. Scott and Joel have to be thoroughly convinced a problem cannot be solved any other way before they fuse, mainly on Joel’s end, though Scott doesn’t seem to have much luck when forming a different Larimar with another Pearl either. Larimar is an elegant fusion that combines Scott’s collectedness with Joel’s grace, and puts on a beautiful display when he fights, if you can withstand the constant infighting between his two components, of course.

[four-crows-in-a-trenchcoat]

Could I kindly pitifully beg you to maybe consider, if you would enjoy it, writing some majorbeans based on the nice life finale? where they fight side by side and then violently kill each other? but sexual style? no pressure ive just been searching for that exact scenario for ages and im astonished no-one's written it yet

A small crow ficlet for you anon < 3

~~~~#~~~~

"This is the end for you-"

"Are you sure?"

Joel practically throws himself as Scott before another pearl can sail through the blizzard and Scott poofs out of his grasp in lavender dust again. Diamond blades clatter and crash as they roll down the snow blanketed hill. The tumble over one another in a rolling blizzard speckled with the reds of holiday cheer and murderous intent.

As they spiral out, grunting and groaning and growling, Scott ends up on his back and gasps through gritted teeth as Joel's forehead crashes into his nose. Reeling atop him, Joel's limbs scramble for dominance as Scott struggles and fights him, rivers of red spilling from his nose in burgeoning tributaries until the taste of iron stains his lips.

Eventually, Joel manages to pin Scott, burying him half into the snowy plateau they have tumbled on to, the hood of his jacket a half snow filled pillow.

Both of them are panting. Blood lust thumping in their ears, soaring in their chests in a crescendo that can never end while the other lives - and the sight of Scott's blood languidly streaming down his lips and chin isn't helping that.

Snow dances down atop them, the bitter chill of their setting a faint fuzzy feeling on the border of their nerves when compared to the ravenous heat of one another.

For a moment they just stare at each other, swallowing in bitter chills that could never quench that gnarled molten slag of feelings they have for one another, clouds of warm breath exchanged like greetings between old friends.

Joel seizes Scott by his jacket, fingers knotting in the fabric, leveraging to crash his lips into Scott. Instantly, Scott's fly and seize his hair, as their lips exchange ordnance. Biting and ravenous, sloppy to the point of brutality, they kiss like they are trying to consume each other.

Snarls of pleasure ripple between their lips, pained gasps and moan exchanged like hostile fire, licking and lapping into each other's mouth.

It's only a matter of time till Joel licks at the elixir of his handiwork, lapping up the drying blood with snarling satisfaction. The taste is intoxicatingly rewarding, chest heaving with elation at each drag of his sloppy tongue against Scott's lips creasing in a grimace.

Never one to be out down, Scott knots his fist in Joel's loose hair and all but snaps his neck with how harsh he pull. Joel gasps as the icy hand of winter caresses his exposed next before Scott's teeth are sinking into him. They bear down like they are tying to tear out his jugular - Joel likes that - muscles thrumming bleeding heat into his mouth as a sharp moan tears itself out of Joel's throat.

Trickle of blood cuts warmth down his throat and Scott can feel the echo of that sick sultry gasp between his teeth before it flees his lips. He's absorbed in the sensation, enough so that Joel can throw him back into the snow and their tumble resumes.

Meanwhile the ghosts of the naughty and nice are hovering over the borderline brutally carnal death roll of the final two, taking their sick delight in slowly flaying each other of their most depraved givings.

"I doth not suppose that to be part of the holiday spirit m'lord," Martyn poises, voice still dripping in all the theatrical flare of red winter.

If Cleo had a corporeal arm, they would hit him over the head. "Martyn we're dead. There's no larping in the afterlife."