#dlsmp fic

[scribbling-dragon]

22 with ranchers? >:)

all my love will be your breath

summary:

The first sign that something is wrong. That something is going to go wrong, is the prickling pain in his hand. Tango flexes his fingers a few times when the sensation reaches him, attempting to shake off the pins and needles as he continues working. The first flash of biting cold has him gasping, hand spasming as the pencil slips from his fingers. It clatters loudly onto the half-finished door he’s using as a makeshift table.

(ao3 link)

(3,085 words)

haha some good ol' ranchers angst. haven't written anything for double life in a hot minute so here you go! this was done for these writing requests - which are still open if you have any (and i am still working on the prompt i have left!!)

The first sign that something is wrong. That something is going to go wrong, is the prickling pain in his hand. Tango flexes his fingers a few times when the sensation reaches him, attempting to shake off the pins and needles as he continues working.

His hands ache, his arms sore from the work he’s been doing all day to fix up their ranch, just a little bit. A significant portion of the nearby forest has been cut down in his efforts to rebuild their farmhouse better than before. The previous iteration had been ugly, but good enough to house them. This new version – one that he’s actually drawn plans and created measurements for – will be better than the previous one could have ever been.

He pauses in his sketching; alterations of the farmhouse had to be made, when he realised that it would be too complex to complete within the time frame he currently has. He wanted to complete it before Jimmy returned from his mining session, wanted to have something to show off to him.

It’s a stupid thing to want, but he wants it nonetheless, and it’s looking good. Like it might be finished before night even begins to set in.

Progress has been helped along by Grian lending a helping hand – a helping axe, rather. It’s obvious what he’s going for, attempting to mend the burned bridges between their pairs. Tango had accepted the help with gritted teeth and a strained smile, willing to set aside his own anger for the sake of finishing the house before Jimmy returns.

He shakes his hand again, the bones in his wrist shifting with the force he uses, hoping to dissipate the feeling so he can return to his drawings. Instead of disappearing, the sensation only strengthens, until his entire hand is numb.

The first flash of biting cold has him gasping, hand spasming as the pencil slips from his fingers. It clatters loudly onto the half-finished door he’s using as a makeshift table. That, coupled with his not-so quiet gasp, draws attention to him.

“You alright?” Grian calls over from beside the log pile. He’s stripping the bark from them, forming them into neater planks than Tango would be capable of making with his own hands. He is not designed for the intricate details that builders manage to achieve, preferring complex and sprawling arrays – who has the patience to make sure every single plank is the exact same size? Grian apparently does, and it’s also why he shooed Tango away, his need for aesthetics overriding any sensible thought of this is someone I might have to fight to the death, why should I be helping him? apparently.

Tango isn’t going to comment on it. Not when it will probably reduce the draught that had forced him and Jimmy into one bed, beneath several blankets, to huddle and conserve warmth.

Simply the thought of that evening of closeness, of the quiet, stifled giggles and curling warmth that had nestled somewhere deep within his chest and not yet left is enough to make him feel warm from the inside out, the ends of his hair curling into small flames.

“I'm fine,” he grits out, registering the echoing silence that has stretched between him and Grian, the way the other still watches him, remaining fixated on the side of his face until he responds.

“Uh huh,” Grian tips his head to the side in a very bird-like manner, a wry smile crossing his lips. “Then why are your hands shaking?”

Are they?

He hadn’t even noticed, both hands beginning to shiver and tremble, phantom pains no longer sparking over the backs of his hands and into the fine bones of his wrists. He flexes them experimentally, coming to the chilling conclusion that he can’t feel his hands at all.

Whatever it is that Jimmy’s experiencing, it’s left him with little feeling in his hands. Something that is beginning to crawl up his arms further. It’s startling and uncomfortable and- and not something that should be happening at all.

He feels out along the bond that tethers him to his other half, feeling along the string that has only strengthened during their time here. He pulses something resembling curiosity and worry along it, transmitting the feelings in the same way a redstone line would transmit a signal.

He still doesn’t understand how it works, and Grian is vague with the details of how it all works.

Tango doesn’t think even he knows, thinks this is all something that has spiralled a little out of Grian’s control, into something that he’s still grasping for, still attempting to regain control of. Either that, or his bond with Scar is frayed enough that he cannot transmit anything at all; his lack of knowledge originates not from a lack of control, but from a place of not experiencing it at all.

He waits a few, tense moments after sending the question across, waiting for a response. Any kind of response.

He crumples beneath the weight of what is returned to him, the sheer panic and pain radiating through to him is enough to make his head ache. He cradles it in his hands, in his numb, cold hands, and struggles not to cry out.

He can taste blood in his mouth, though whether that is his own sensation or something from Jimmy is unknown.

“Woah,” someone skids on the grass beside him, coming to an abrupt halt. “You are clearly not alright.”

“Gee, thanks for that,” he bites back, teeth flashing as he glares up at Grian. “What might’ve given you that idea?”

“There’s no need to be so rude,” Grian bites back, wings ruffling in clear agitation. “Now, are you going to tell me what’s wrong or should I just leave?”

Tango remains silent, staring mulishly at the ground he’s currently kneeling on. The grass is charred and ashy; somewhat of a relief that it cannot catch fire again, with the sparks jumping from his flicking tail.

“Fine,” Grian heaves himself back to his feet, the knees of his jeans stained with ash and soot. He brushes at them a few times, something that Tango watches from the corner of his eye, but only succeeds in smearing the ash further over his jeans and onto the palms of his hands. “I’ll leave you to it. Come find me if you improve your attitude.”

Tango feels regret as soon as Grian starts walking away, dead grass crunching beneath his feet.

He opens his mouth to call out behind him, beginning to rise to his feet before a burning sensation floods up his arms. It brings him low again, down to his knees once more in the wreckage of his home.

He cries out wordlessly, the sound transforming into a snarl at the end of it as he bites down on his tongue, embarrassed and frustrated with his own inability to do anything.

He wanted to fix this, wanted to repair the home that he and Jimmy had begun to call theirs, something that belonged only to them. And yet he failed at that, unable to even lift a pencil to fix this.

The burning fades fast, quick enough that he’s left choking on his own breath, throat constricting painfully as he shoves himself upwards.

His head collides with someone’s chin in his haste, and both of them fall back. He glares at Grian, who winces and then glares right back at him. “I just bit my tongue because of you.”

“And? What were you doing so close?”

“Checking to make sure you weren’t about to keel over.”

“I'm fine,” he sniffs. He stands up slower this time, ears flicking back and forth anxiously. He doesn’t know what it is travelling across to him, only registering the numbing pain that’s beginning to snake up his arms again, biting cold against his skin. But there’s something wrong, that much is easy to figure out. “I need to find Jimmy.”

“Obviously,” Grian scoffs. “Where’d he go?”

“Mining.”

Grian gives him a flat look. “You’ll have to give a few more details than that – where did he go? How long did he say he was going to be? What was he going to get.”

“Why do you care?” he snaps. He turns around then and there, shoving his way through the gate, wood clattering behind him as it bounces back into position from where he shoved it. It clicks open a moment later as Grian follows him out.

“Because I'm going to help you,” he says.

“Oh yeah?” Tango doesn’t even bother to turn and face him, heading in the direction he remembers watching Jimmy disappear in. He’d been walking with a pep in his step, and Tango may have been slightly distracted by watching the way the rising sun silhouetted him, the way it framed his face just so-

Heat lances up his arms again, curling around his elbows, gone as quickly as it was there, as though someone dumped a bucket of water over the burning. The blistering cold returns moments later, hands beginning to tremble once more.

Grian snatches at one of his hands, both thumbs pressing into the palm and forcing his claws to splay out. “Hey!” He attempts to tug his hand out of Grian’s grip, but it just turns bruising in its strength and he halts his struggles as quickly as they had begun. He doesn’t want to cause Jimmy more pain than he’s already experiencing, even if his hand is almost completely numb by now. “What are you doing!”

“You have frostbite,” Grian shoves his hand in his face. “Your fingers are turning purple. How did you not notice?”

“I don't know if you’ve noticed, but my claws are dark anyway,” he yanks his hand free from Grian’s grip, and the other man lets him this time. Allows him to retreat a small distance away and observe his hands himself. He grits his teeth and suppresses a small growl when he realises that Grian is right. He’d just been too stupid to notice it before.

“He’s somewhere cold,” Grian surmises.

“Wow, give it up for the genius over here,” he mutters. He thought it was quiet enough that Grian wouldn’t have heard him, but he still turns on Tango with a furious glare.

“I’m helping you,” Grian hisses out. “Be a little more grateful.”

“You're atoning for your soulmate,” Tango fires back. “Don't make up something when we all know it’s a lie. Why even bother when you're one bad situation away from abandoning him entirely?”

He halts the moment the words spill past his lips, born of frustration rather than anything more malicious. Still, it has the effect he was going for a few moments ago – before his rational thinking and decision-making capabilities caught up with him – and Grian’s face closes off, going dark and angry.

“You don't mean that,” Grian tells him. “And you don't know what you're talking about either.”

“Fine, maybe I don't,” he acquiesces. He won’t apologise, not when Grian won’t accept it from him, but he can still feel a little guilty. “But I also don't want to be stood around chatting about this while Jimmy- dies! Or whatever it is!”

“Freezes to death,” Grian corrects. Then pauses and lights up, turning on Tango with none of his previous anger, an inspired gleam in his eye. “Frozen!” He yells, like that makes any sense at all, gives him any clue to whatever leap of logic Grian just made.

“Uh,” he says smartly. “What?” And winces a moment later, heart thudding hard in his chest as the cold retreats for a moment, before cascading back in like- like snowfall. Like snowfall! “Frozen!” He yells back at Grian, grinning like an idiot before he gasps, chest stuttering with the panic that pulses over to him, flooding his senses with a nervous energy.

“The mountain is this way,” Grian tells him, yelling slightly with the frantic energy that has overtaken the two of them. Tango wouldn’t consider them allies – wouldn’t consider them even friendly after Scar’s little escapade at their ranch, but maybe they could start something somewhat like an alliance after this? Provided they manage to find Jimmy. Provided that they're even right. “Come on, come on!”

“I'm coming, I'm coming!” He breaks into a sprint, even as his chest feels as though it’s being compressed, something heavy weighing down on his ribs and preventing his lungs from expanding properly. The burning in his throat and his lungs only spurs him on further, legs turning numb from both the cold and the exertion as he makes the first leap up the craggy clifface of the mountain.

A blur of colour shoots up past him, Grian splaying his wings out when he reaches the top to slow his descent, touching down delicately as Tango continues his mad scramble up the side. His numb hands falter a few times, but he digs his claws in a little harder as he climbs further, easing himself into it until he’s as familiar with the rocks as a mountain goat.

Grian hops from foot to foot at the top, and as much as Tango wants to haul himself over the edge and lay there for several hours, maybe even a lifetime, he shoves himself upwards onto his feet as soon as he can, ignores the burning of everything. The burning that could be him but could also be Jimmy -wherever he is.

It doesn’t take them long.

Not with the laughter travelling clearly through the cold air, carried to them on a sharp wind. He doesn’t even need to think it through before he veers in the direction of the voices, the taunting that reaches his ears.

He flares so hot that it probably reaches Jimmy over their bond, and clears a circle of snow around him.

“Oh, look who’s arrived!” Joel turns to him with a smile, arms outstretched. “Took you long enough.”

“What are you doing?” He can see Grian backing up from him out the corner of his eye, but can’t find it in himself to care as he flares up. He doesn’t even care if he sets fire to this whole damn forest. All he can focus on is the slight movement of snow at Joels’ feet.

“Nothing,” Joel shrugs. Scar, behind him, at least has the decency to look guilty…Scar?

He whirls on Grian. “You knew?”

“What!” Grian shrieks out, outraged and shocked all at once. “How was I meant to know! Why do you even think I knew?”

“Scar’s here!” he yells, gesturing towards the offending person. “You're telling me he ran off and you didn’t think to check where he’d gone?”

“I was helping you all day! How was I meant to know he came up here to do something like this?”

Tango hisses out a breath filled with smoke and a little flame, uncaring of the way soot coats the inside of his mouth and the back of his teeth. He can scrub the taste away later, when his hands are no longer numb and his heart doesn’t feel as though it’s going to break to pieces.

He surges forward, ducking beneath Joel’s arm when he tries to block him and plunging a hand into the powdered snow. He scrambles around, ignoring the yelling that starts up behind him, grasping and reaching blindly until he finally finds something solid amongst the numbing cold.

He holds on tighter and yanks backwards, using his body weight to pull Jimmy free from the snow. He falls back with the force, when the snow finally releases its victim, allowing him free of the snowy prison he’d been trapped in for however long.

He’s shuddering so hard that Tango’s afraid, for several long moments, that he might just vibrate out of his skin, teeth chattering so hard he might bite off his tongue.

He pays this little mind, pulling Jimmy close to himself and stoking the fire in his core as much as he can, pressing his forehead to Jimmy’s, wincing at the clammy feel of it. He sits there, in his circle of melted snow until Jimmy blinks his frosted lashes open, squinting up at him.

“Hey,” is all he says.

“Don't hey me,” he bites out, frustration from a source of worry and fear and panic and everything but anger, stress making him feel like he’s on the edge of some great drop; any movement would send him over the edge, and then he might do something even more stupid like start sobbing right here. “I didn’t know where you were,” he tells Jimmy quietly. It’s loud enough to carry, now that the yelling behind them has stopped.

Tango doesn’t turn to check on their companions, focusing only on Jimmy, on the way his extremities are no longer purple with cold, returning to a slightly more healthy pink tint, cheeks rosy with the cold.

He steels his resolve then and stands, ignores the small sound of panic that Jimmy makes, the way his cold hands wrap around the back of his neck, as though Tango would ever drop him. His arms are beginning to burn with exhaustion, muscles trembling, but he refuses to release Jimmy. Not when he’d almost slipped away from Tango completely.

He ignores the apologetic look from Grian, ignores the guilty one from Scar. Ignores Joel entirely.

Jimmy presses his face against his neck, speaking words that Tango can only make out because of how close they are. Words spoken so close to his skin that they're almost branded into it. “I can walk,” he says, embarrassment colouring his voice and his face.

“I know.”

“Then…”

“I want to carry you,” a stray feather brushes against the exposed skin of his neck, brushes just below his chin in a way that makes him shiver. “Besides, I think you're quite enjoying this, aren’t you?” he teases, hoping that it might make Jimmy smile, at least a little.

The embarrassment and flustering will keep him warm until they're back at the ranch, where Tango can wrap him in blankets and offer him warm drinks. And maybe he’ll sit alongside Jimmy, within that cocoon of blankets, warm him with the flame stoked somewhere deep in his chest.

Jimmy tightens his grip, though it is no longer from fear of being dropped, and more to press himself closer to Tango. To his warmth.

Despite himself, Tango flushes, and prays that Jimmy can’t feel it.

[ty-bayonet-betteridge]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: 3rd Life | Last Life SMP Series, Double Life SMP Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Characters: Secret Life SMP Ensemble Additional Tags: Double Life SMP - Freeform, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different Soulmates, not certain how else to tag this Summary:

Jade to green to gold to scarlet Names will fade and eyes will darken Lives will end and blood be spilled, Worlds that fall once all are killed.

Winter's cold brings sleet and snow, Love that dies and hates that grows. Eighteen souls, but now nine hearts; Lives entwined to break apart.

* * *

A Double Life AU featuring all eighteen members of the Life Series and different assignments of soulmates. Updates on Tuesdays.

[tunastime]

hiccuping tears into the shoulder + ranchers by chance?

hiccuping tears into their shoulder (1087 words) (x)

For the first time in a good, long portion of his life, Tango despises how silent the night gets. It's not without its natural noise—the balmy, sticky humidity and breeze in the grass, or the crickets, the cicadas quieting down, the sounds of animals rearranging themselves to a comfier sleeping arrangement. He should be doing the same, but he's sitting on the edge of the bed, his spine a rigid line. He can feel the blood in his body, he can feel the spaces where his muscles connect to each other, with every breath he can feel his lungs separate out the oxygen. It's at the very least startling, and at the very most, he feels like he might dissolve on the spot if touched. 

Tango knows how death feels—painless respawn and a few seasons of a life game behind him, but to feel someone else die, too. The echo of death alongside your own. He didn't like that! Not good at all. All his blood and heartbeat-y things are rushing around in his ears. He doesn't even hear Jimmy the first time he speaks up from the other side of the bed, with how his voice scrapes out.

"I didn't know they were aiming for us," Jimmy says.

"Of course not," Tango says, furrowing his eyebrows. "I know you didn't."

He's still looking at his hands, running his thumb over the lines in his palm and pushing into the tiny bones and muscle there. Jimmy flexes his hands like he can feel the pressure and bones moving around. He watches him fold his hand tight around each other and slump, pulling his shoulders to his chest. His breath squeezes in his chest as Jimmy deflates tiredly.

"I just don't want you to think—"

"I'm not gonna think this is your fault, alright?" Tango says, frowning at him. "Why would I?"

Jimmy sighs. His jaw works.

"Cause it usually is," he grits. Tango scrunches his nose on instinct, recoiling out of habit before he manages:

"That's not fair, man."

"This whole game isn't far!" Jimmy huffs, waving a hand about.

"Sure but—"

"But nothing, Tango. I just—I can't lose and drag you with me. That's more than not fair."

"I don't care."

"I care."

Before Tango can argue, though, he tastes the faintest hints of anger and frustration at the back of his mouth fade. He watches Jimmy's face contort as he tries to come up with a better sentence, something he probably thinks Tango deserves. Maybe an apology. 

Tango just looks at him. He kind of feels bad, that little bit of gut wrenching cold that trickles in, but mostly he's just confused. Jimmy's words bat around in his brain like dust particles. Dust bunnies. He definitely assumed they were done with this. That maybe Jimmy made peace like he did—though really he hadn't had that much time to make peace, if he's being honest. He's still bitter. He's sure a lot of people are still bitter. But in terms of Jimmy's whole situation? It's not like it could be helped. They just had to be careful. So Tango was being careful, and Jimmy was taking what Tango thought was a calculated risk, so he was mad, sure, but he couldn't really stay mad for a long time. So he takes a long breath and sighs it out his nose. It still tastes surprisingly reminiscent of smoke.

"So what are we going to do?" he asks softly. Jimmy inhales.

"I don't know," he says. "Go to bed? Wake up and start planning?"

Tango hums plainly. He likes that idea. The small spool of feeling in his chest that must belong to Jimmy gives a little tug, like it wanted to take him down with it. 

"Yeah," Tango says, voice coming hoarse. "Yeah, I think so."

For a moment, Tango runs his tongue over his teeth, runs his thumbs over the seams of his knees. He sighs, and then he leans into Jimmy's shoulder with a definitive huff. He's tired. From the ache in his bones, to the breathlessness of dying, to just taking in Jimmy's stress. Man. He's exhausted. Jimmy snorts quietly. He feels him press his cheek against Tango's head. The hand Jimmy had been fiddling with in his lap ends up at the base of his spine, splayed over the fabric. Tango squeezes his eyes shut.

"Thanks Tango," Jimmy says shakily. He sounds like he's on the knife's edge of crying, so Tango fumbles out a hand and lands it solidly on his knee. It's not a terribly comfortable thing to stretch one of his achy shoulders or biceps that far but he does anyway, and Jimmy huffs out a damp laugh. "Guess I'm just... pissed off."

Tango snorts.

"If you think you're pissed, just wait until they rile me up," he says into the fabric of Jimmy's shirt. Jimmy laughs. Tango tries to hold in a grin that he also smothers into his shoulder, but fails. Jimmy's hand skips over his knuckles and squeezes the hand on his knee.

"Sure thing, Rancher," he teases. Tango makes a half-suppressed noise of indignation, squeaking as he bolts upright. He nearly knocks into Jimmy's jaw as he untangles himself with all the grace of a cat trying to weasel out of someone's arms. 

"I'm just sayin'," he grumbles, crinkling his nose. "You seem like you're in a better mood though."

Jimmy sighs, rounding out his shoulders. 

"Think so," he says, working his cheek between his teeth. Tango feels the sensation of prodding in his mouth. Bleh. "Think so."

"Probably a good idea to make good on that sleeping... thing,” he says, reaching up to scrub at his eyes. He barely stifles a yawn as Jimmy stretches, twisting his tall body around in a way that feels surprisingly pleasant to Tango’s stiff muscles. He can’t imagine, especially with the way Jimmy holds all his emotions in his shoulders, that his upper back is doing him any favors. Jimmy makes a little noise in confirmation as Tango turns, attempting to make ample space for him in the small bed. He knows they’ll end up back to back at some point, but as he lies down, shoulder to shoulder, an easy comfort rolls over him. Sure there’s all the red blood rushing around in his ears, and sure he feels it right up on his skin like a bad rash, but for now, next to Jimmy, he shuts his eyes.

They’ll make this time count for something, at least.

[timetocommitcrimes-ao3]

Summary: Scar and Pearl decide to move out into the jungle together to take a break from their respective soulmates.

I. do not really like this fic anymore, but i do stand by it. this is how dl ended trust me <3

[zedif-y]

Summary:

A loud slam, like doors banging open– “HEY!” Impulse whips around, and– He hears the pattering of footsteps on the hardwood, laughter and voices mingling together from their back door. Above the stairs, he sees a wide, playful grin. Grian cups a hand around his mouth, “Who’s ready to party?!” The color drains from Impulse’s face.

---

Chapter 13 of my impdubs fic is out!

[froganni]

For your consideration: Pearl panics when she gets cold because of lingering DL trauma. (Powdered snow, yippee!)

In Secret Life she wakes up with a start because she accidentally kicked off her blankets and woke up freezing. She goes to check on the Mounders to make sure they're still there and she's not alone.

And maybe they have a cuddle pile where she can make sure they're all warm and safe. That's all she needed really, a little warmth.

[landofspaceandrainbows]

Thanks to @flashfictionfridayofficial for the prompt!

~

That was the thing about working with Scar, Grian thought, he could turn anyone into your enemy. That soft spoken fairy woman he coaxed into giving away one of her stolen names, she had shared her truffles with them too, hiding behind her feathery wings and pink hair. Afterwards, Grian was sure, the fae Elizabeth had been responsible for every mushroom they bought ending up being obviously poisonous and un usable (until they had given her the name back). And of course there was the great king Ren, skilled in both the sword and farming, and all his allies, they had gotten a little cute in a deal about swords and now they had four less customers and two more swords.

But working with Scar could make all sorts of things into natural allies too, the concepts of space and time themselves, isolation, the literal gods cursed weather. There's a reason they started working in this foggy old forest together.

Grian sat there, on a stump, drinking tea with the travellers, and eyeing their travel rations filled with chocolates of all things. Oh yes, and their many diamonds encrusted on their necks and fingers, damn.

"Oh, just keep talking to me" Grian encouraged as he fiddled with the teapot and the lemons.

"And three, two, one…" Grian muttered to himself as the teapot whistled, covering his speaking of his internal monologue.

The clouds opened up, a downpour graying out the world beyond their little tarp.

And Scar just happened to wander by with a little cart full of umbrellas, so very much for sale.

Once again, Grian could see their allies decreasing, but their diamonds increasing so much so very soon.

[parissfrogg]

I had an idea the other day where jimmy’s wing got damaged when he and tango lost their fist life in double life. Tango felt super bad about Jimmy not being able to fly even a little so he did what he does best and redstoneificated a wing brace as a substitute

Idk thought this was a cute idea

[cloudtastrophie]

Hey all, guess what 😏😏

CHAPTER 11 BABY! After a few month break this bad boy is back 🎉

[sammy-writes-sometimes]

Word Count: 829

Ship: Impdubs

Tw: needles, injections

“Bdubs, I- I, uhh…" Impulse is oddly quiet, looking away from Bdubs as he scratches along his arm. "Can I get some help? It's not- you don't have to."

Bdubs smiles from where he sits on their bed.

"It's- it's just a small thing- I'm- you know T and stuff." He laughs nervously, still not looking at his soulmate even as he sits down. "I-I get shots and-"

"Just tell me where you keep your needles, I already know what to do.” Bdubs says softly.

[emo-crack-cult]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 3rd Life | Last Life SMP Series, Double Life SMP Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death Relationships: Jimmy | Solidarity/TangoTek Characters: Jimmy | Solidarity, Tango Tek, The Watchers (Evolution SMP) Additional Tags: Team Rancher, DLSMP, Double Life SMP Spoilers, Double Life SMP: Session 5, Afterlife, i submited this for a grade, and got a 94., 1 year anniversary for Double Life!, Rancher duo, m/m - Freeform, How Do I Tag, I'm Bad At Tagging, sorta angsty ig, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love Summary:

After their untimely demise, how will Jimmy face his soulmate?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ There have been three seasons of the life games now. Each season of the game lasts five to nine weeks, depending on who would survive to make it to nine weeks. Everyone in the games joins willingly. Anyone can leave after each game ends; most choose to stay. In the game you have 3 lives, Green, Yellow, and Red, once you're on your last life you go rogue, forgetting every alliance, everyone that ever mattered. When on your last life your only focus is to win the game, whatever the cost. After you die, you wait in an exact replica of the world, with everyone else who had died. Waiting for the rest of the players to die so you could move on past the waiting room and onto the next game. The games were made by The Watchers, gods in their own sense, the most powerful beings in the universe. They had made these wretched games, devices of torture for whoever chose to join. This season is different, not just from the fact that there are far less players. But from the fact that this season, you’d have a soulmate. Someone tied to you, soulbound, whenever your soulmate got hurt you would feel the pain and vice versa. Things got complicated this season, while The Watchers only meant for it to be a game, they hadn’t meant to cause such pain for the players, but they couldn't say they didn’t enjoy watching them suffer. Jimmy woke up, laying in the lush grass, staring up at the sky. The sky was a dark, melancholy gray, giving off the feelings of despair and distress, how fitting. Jimmy thought as he sat up and looked around at the surrounding trees; he was at the center of the arena, where they were placed before the game started. “Tango, are you here?” Jimmy stood up and spoke into the trees; there was no answer. Then he slowly realized, he died, he was in the waiting room. He lost the game, Tango lost the game, all because of him. The only thought circling Jimmy’s head was to find Tango, his soulmate, his rancher, and apologize for losing the game, if Tango was still here that is. Jimmy left the center in the direction of the ranch he built with Tango; hoping that his soulmate was there. Finally emerging from the forest that surrounded the center of the arena, Jimmy could see the ranch, it was distant, but he could see it. Running towards it, he stumbled through the ruins of the once beautiful ranch, wood, and crumbling stone crunching beneath his feet. There sitting near the edge of the cliff, was Tango; he had his legs dangling off the edge of the cliff, gaze focused on the bottom. “You’re still here?” Jimmy asked as he sat down next to him. “It's over,” Tango said without moving his eyes from the bottom of the cliff “go home.” “go.” “No, I need to say that I’m so sorry-” “Don’t be,” Tango held Jimmy’s hand, his gaze never leaving the bottom of the cliff, “it's not your fault, we were going to die either way.” Tango whispered, “We had a great time, but nothing lasts forever.” “I wish it could, I was happy,” Jimmy whispered back, looking at Tango. Tango finally lifted his gaze from the cliff to Jimmy’s eyes. They both sat in comfortable silence, as the game continued; hands held together, offering some sort of comfort to the other. Even when the game concluded, they sat there, as if they were waiting for something. Then suddenly, the silence was broken. “I don’t want to go, I don’t want to forget,” Jimmy mumbled. Tango knew that he was referring to when The Watchers would slowly erase their memories of the game, they claimed it was to stop them from remembering the pain and suffering they had to endure during the games. Tango lifted his hands and cupped Jimmy’s face. Tango pulled him into a kiss, when they broke apart, he spoke softly “You’ll always be my soulmate, my rancher.”

[scribbling-dragon]

wild life? I'm still stuck in double life

[tunastime]

:D 5's my favorite number so 5! please and thank you!!!! :DDDDD

Hi hi!! I am honestly surprised by how high this song climbed in my spotify wrapped, but I can't say I'm disappointed :>

so if I'm honest, ethubs was not my first thought for this song LOL, myke actually got me into this song when I was really into my rvb phase, but! considering my ethubs streak, I thought it would really fit them. in some aspects. regardless, I hope you enjoy! (I also love the number 5!) (698 words)

The night is cold and crisp and beautiful and dark as Etho slinks from his perch on the Relation and down into the fields and ravines below. It’s a perfect vantage point—the high mast he’s managed to climb his way up, dropping slightly onto the deck with no sound from his soft-soled boots. He can see everything from that spot: every light, every flicker of movement, every memorized star, every tryst made under the cover of night. He almost snorts, which would’ve probably blown his whole sneaking around at night act clean out of the water. He can’t say anything—not when he’s gone looking for Bdubs.

He pokes his way through ankle high grass and down into the shallows of the hills until he can just see the peek of white stone and concrete through the trees and grass around him. It’s a flat plane until he meets the side of Bdubs’ house. Well. Bdubs’ and Impulse’s house, which is fine, but it means he stops for a moment at the treeline to watch for lights, and waits for a shadow to make itself known. 

Bdubs slips from the front door and down the pressed-grass path toward the trees as soon as he himself sees the shape of Etho step out from them and into subtle moonlight. Etho smiles, part sharp, part crooked teeth. He sighs out of those same teeth, feeling something unravel in his chest as Bdubs steps up to him and folds his arms over his chest.

“Etho,” he says quietly.

“Hi, ‘Dubs.”

“You gotta stop coming here.”

Etho snorts, rubbing his heel into the grass under his foot. His hands stay in his pockets for now, but he would really much rather run his hands through the sleep-mussed hair Bdubs hasn’t bothered to tie back behind his typical headband. Bdubs is right, to an extent, but if Etho were the only one having secret meetings in the dark, he probably would’ve been found out sooner, and Joel probably wouldn’t have nudged his ribs one afternoon over lunch and raised his eyebrows so high they might as well had been part of his hairline. If Lizzie were here, Etho was certain Joel wouldn’t’ve even paid him any mind. He actually liked Joel a lot. He hopes he gets to see him again. 

But Bdubs shifts back and forth on his feet, and it brings Etho back to the thick of it. Why is he here? To see Bdubs again? He certainly had the chance to do that back during the last season of Hermitcraft but he’d gone and left before they’d even said goodbye to each other. So why was he here? Was this supposed to be his apology? Bdubs looks more and more uncomfortable as the silence stretches, so Etho ducks his head and clears his throat slightly. Maybe less uncomfortable and more concerned, more nervous.

“Etho.”

“I wanted it to be you,” he says quietly. “I want to make you proud.”

“What’re you talkin’ about?” Bdubs huffs, furrowing his eyebrows when Etho looks at him. Etho feels the pit of his stomach drop open and briefly feels like he, too, is falling into nothingness. Bdubs lifts a hand to rest warm-palmed on his cheek. “What?”

“I just want to win for you.”

“Etho…” Bdubs sighs through his nose. “You’ve gotta let that go. It didn’t mean nothin’.”

“It did to you.”

“Stop,” Bdubs sighs, stroking his cheek. “Stop doing this to yourself. Don’t make me choose between being with you and being safe.”

Etho swallows. That stings, like hot coals on his hands. He shuts his eyes against Bdubs’ expression and feels Bdubs kiss his cheek.

“We’ll talk about this when we’re out of here. We’ll make it better.”

“Okay,” Etho scrapes out.

Etho wakes up to slats of jungle wood above his head and muggy air through his window. He scrubs his eyes, and tries to shake the feeling of wrongness in the joints of his body. He wonders, briefly, how many times he might remember that conversation differently, before he saw Bdubs again. He has a feeling it might be a lot.

[timetocommitcrimes-ao3]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58655929

Summary: Pearl and her partner in crime decide to cash out the bounty of an ex-friend of hers.

second fic in a row with a bar in space, huh

@mcytficfight

[zedif-y]

Summary:

He jostles Bdubs’ shoulder, shaking him gently until he groans, “Wha…?” “Ren’s here,” Impulse says, expression grim. Bdubs’ eyes go wide. “I don’t think he’s here to talk.” Ren’s ears twitch– then looks up. Grins. He beckons Impulse down with sharp claws.

---

Chapter 12 of my Impdubs fic is out!

[landofspaceandrainbows]

nice

also, may i introduce you all to a story....

about a play about A King (who you may just know )

*vibrates*

I'm putting the entire archives crew into a theatre production of hamlet deal with it <3

ARCHIVIST: Of course, Martin. (sigh) You’re sure you don’t have an agenda?

MARTIN: It’s a question. And I don’t know. As far as I know, you’re already serving an eldritch power, so…

ARCHIVIST: That’s not a bad point, Martin.