#i live for new ways to draw jimmy

[dailysolidarity]

Day 27

Struggled with this but a wise man once told me. Belts. Just. Add them. All over.

[hxney-lemcn]

Late Night Chaos — Daisuke x gn! reader

summery: continuing to struggle with coming to terms, reader seeks solace in Anya, trying and failing to confess, until they finally couldn't avoid it any longer.

tw: reader is bad at feelings.

a/n: this has become a series...

wc: 2k

Master List

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine

In response to your newfound feelings, you decided to do what you do best. Ignore it. Ignore the fluttering of your heart when Daisuke looked towards you after a joke, like he wanted to make you laugh specifically. Or the quiet moments, sitting side by side at night, you didn’t miss the way he would stare at you instead of the fake sky, making your insomnia problem worse. Or how he had become more touchy, how had you not noticed it before? They way he’d brush the back of his hand against yours when walking side by side, or how he’d bump shoulders with you more often than not, or the brief hugs he’d give you if you looked particularly down. 

It was eating at you, but you’d be damned if you were gonna say anything. You can’t remember a time you felt this strongly about someone. Sure, you’ve had passing crushes and found people attractive, but those all passed. But this? You were stuck, hurtling through space, with someone you not only found attractive, but were also falling for. You felt like you were going to tear your hair out. This wasn’t good for your health. It felt like you were going crazy. Not to mention the constant urge to just get all your aggression out by squeezing the living daylights out of Daisuke. 

It seemed you weren’t hiding your deteriorating mental state well. Finishing your daily tasks for Anya, she seemed to have noticed the tired look in your eyes…or maybe the eye bags, those might have been a dead give-away. 

“Have you been sleeping alright?” Anya asked, eyes holding concern. 

“As good as it’ll get,” You shrugged, deflecting the question. 

“If there’s something on your mind you can always talk to me,” She remarked. “It may be my job, but I also care about you.” That made you pause, biting your lip and you mulled over your options. Either keep your feelings to yourself and go nuts or talk to the only other person you feel comfortable with…

Sitting down, you kept your gaze on your lap, fiddling with your fingers, “I’ve…uh. I’ve come to a sudden realization.” 

“And what might that be?” Anya asked softly, watching your anxious movements with a trained eye. Your fidgeting grew worse, now messing with the sleeves of your uniform. If you said it outloud that would make it real, and that was what was holding you back. All these new emotions scared you, and for all you knew Daisuke only thought of you as a friend. The uncertainties of the whole situation made you want to grasp onto any semblance of control you held, and that was holding onto your emotions, keeping them in check and acting like you didn’t want to kiss the living daylights out of one of your crewmates. 

“I think I’m going crazy.”

It's not what you wanted to say, but the truth felt too heavy on your tongue, unable to push the words past your lips. Avoiding her gaze, you looked at the board behind her, eyes landing on a drawing of Jimmy with the word yimpy. Glaring at the image, you wondered why traces of Daisuke seemed to follow you no matter where you went. 

“Hmm,” Anya hummed, tapping her pen against the desk. “Why?”

“I…I,” You tried so hard to say it, to get the damn fuzzy yet heavy feelings off your chest, but your mouth wouldn’t let you. Thankfully, Anya was patient, analyzing you to make sure this wasn’t too serious to your mental health. Squeezing your hands into tight fists, you pushed through, the words finally spilling past your lips, “I think I’m falling for Daisuke!” 

Your eyes widened at how loud you said it, cheeks warming and glancing behind you to make sure no one was eavesdropping. Anya’s demeanor softened, letting out a small sigh of relief. You really scared her for a second. But now that the dam had broken, you couldn’t seem to stop yourself from gushing. 

“I-I’ve never felt this way before and it’s so scary. And it’s hard to avoid because he’s always following me around and making me laugh, and when I’m with him it doesn’t seem so bad, but then when I’m alone I overthink everything. It’s driving me crazy.”

Anya nodded, taking in your words and coming up with a thoughtful response, “New things are scary. But it seems like you both really like each other. I’d say the best way to go about this is to confront the problem, tell Daisuke how you feel. As scary as it may be, it's better than keeping it in. Of course if you two do start dating then you’d both have to fill out some paperwork-”

“I think we’re skipping a step,” You said, words muffled as you shoved your face in your hands. 

…

You knew Anya was right. You should just tell him, that’s the most logical conclusion, but if you struggled to tell her, how the hell were you supposed to tell the actual person? You glanced at your main problem, wearily eyeing him as Swansea was trying to guide him in fixing a pipe. You weren’t an idiot, you knew that he liked you, but the question was how much? Was it all platonic? Maybe a hint of romantic feelings? Was he already crushing on you? How the hell were you supposed to know? It angered you, you were out of your depth and it was scary. 

“I did it!” Daisuke exclaimed, smiling brightly towards Swansea than you.

“Good job,” Swansea muttered gruffly. “You didn’t break anything this time.” 

When his eyes landed on you, expectant look in his eyes, you found yourself folding, “You did great.” Curse your traitorous heart speeding up when his grin brightened. He was nearly jumping across the halls, vibrating where he stood.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, kid,” Swansea shook his head. “The question is can you do it again?” 

“I’m sure he can,” You remarked offhandedly. The old man glanced at you before shaking his head, muttering something about kids these days. 

“Let’s take a ten minute break,” Swansea grumbled. “Not sure how much longer I can deal with you two.” You watched him leave with a raised eyebrow, your lips slightly lifted in a small smirk. 

It was silent for a few moments before Daisuke spoke up, “Hey, are you okay?”

“Hmm?” You hummed, tilting your head. “Yeah, why?”

“You just…seem a bit off,” He muttered, scratching the back of his neck. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You snarked, eyes falling into a glare. 

“N-nothing bad,” He defended, holding his hands up like a shield. “You just…you can talk to me y’know. We’re friends after all.”

Letting out a sigh you deflated, “Sorry, I know. It’s just…hard to explain.”

“Harder to explain than stealing the Captain's scanner for some sweetener packets?”

“Hmm,” You genuinely thought about it, amused. “No, I don’t think I can beat that.” The two of you chuckled softly before it was quiet again. With the way Daisuke worriedly looked at you, you felt a bit guilty. You had been snapping at him more than usual (easy to beat as you never really snapped at him), taking out your frustrating emotions on those around you. You had been unfair, and now seems like the perfect time to finally get the weight off your chest…and apologize properly.

“I, uh, have something to admit,” You confessed, rubbing your arm awkwardly. “Just…let’s not make it weird-”

“Alright,” Swansea unknowingly cut you off, coming back in. “No more time to dawdle, the ship won’t fix itself.” You huffed, glaring at the ground. It was just your luck that right as you were about to do the grown thing and talk about your emotions someone had to cut you off.

Pushing yourself off the crate you were sitting on, you waved at the two on your way out, “I’ll see ya around.” Not looking back, you missed the way Daisuke watched you in concern.

…

You paused mid-turn, freezing when you heard someone knock on your door. Daisuke’s muffled call of your name rang through your room. Grumbling to yourself, you got up. It’s not like you were getting any sleep anyhow. Pulling down the handle, the door slid open to reveal Daisuke, his hair was ruffled and he was wearing his pajamas. A frown tugged at his lips, eyes watching your sluggish form. “Come in,” You murmured, stepping away from the door and sitting on your bed. Closing the door behind him, he sat next to you. No words needed to be shared, you knew exactly why he was here. Once again, you found the silence to be terribly loud, racking your brain on where to start. 

“I’m sorry for treating you like shit,” You apologized, gaze focused in front of you.

“What are you talking about?” Daisuke asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Y’know,” You grumbled, picking at the blanket beneath you. “I keep snapping at you out of nowhere. It’s not right, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Oh,” He nodded in realization.

“Yeah,” You sighed.

“Something been irritating you?” He asked leaning down to try and meet your gaze. 

“That's…I…” Once again, you felt your tongue grow heavy at the thought of admitting your feelings. Allowing yourself to be so vulnerable was terrifying. It was like carving your heart out and serving it on a platter, hoping that he’d treat it with care. The question was, were you willing to put the knife to your chest and cut? 

Meeting his eyes, held with concern and something you couldn’t put your finger on, you could feel the knife twist.

“I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Daisuke’s eyes widened with wonder, looking more awake than ever before, tanned cheeks turning red. He felt like he was dreaming, but at the same time it felt off. You were confessing to him, something he had hoped for…but you also seemed…sad. Like it was taking a toll on you, and if that was the reason why you were more easily irritated…does that mean you don’t like it? Was there a way to fall for someone and hate them for it? 

“And that’s a bad thing?” He managed to ask, voice wobbling in fear. 

“No,” You whispered, tilting your head down and facing your lap. “It’s just scary. I’ve never felt like this before and I don’t know how to handle it.”

“That’s okay,” Daisuke whispered back, inching his hand closer to your own. “I’m new to this too. We can figure it out. Together.” Biting your lip, you eyed his hand that stopped just before touching you. In a short burst of confidence you linked your pinkies, bathing in the warm feeling that expanded through your entire being instead of running from it. 

“Do you think you can stay?” You asked, your skin bristling at the vulnerability in your tone. 

You were silly to think that Daisuke would treat your heart carelessly. No, he was going to treat it tenderly, caring for it as if it were his own. In return, he carved his own heart out, giving you an equal offering. 

“Of course,” Daisuke nodded, his usual boyish smile more tender and warm. 

Bonus:

Both you and Daisuke had been late to breakfast, and Anya had a small hunch as to why. So she offered to get you both, ignoring the way Jimmy grumbled about you both being spoiled brats. Knocking on your door, she heard shuffling on the other side, hushed whispers, and finally footsteps walking towards the door. Cracking the door open, you peaked your head out, sleepy eyes staring up at the nurse.

“Good morning,” You muttered, voice still laced with sleep. 

“Good morning,” She greeted back with an amused smile. “You and Daisuke slept in.”

That seemed to make you wide awake, muttering curse words before rushing back into your room, a muffled sorry yelled through the door. Walking back to the main hull, Anya shook her head in amusement. It seems you finally followed her advice.

[katescribblesabit]

I love your fairy Timmy turner au and your art! It’s amazing and wonderful!! Sending virtual hugs your way since you absolutely deserve it!! Make sure to stay hydrated and take breaks from drawing when needed :3 I hope you have a great day/night wherever you are !

I have a question about the au, considering the jimmy timmy power hour still happens, did Jimmy Neutron and his friends ever hear about Timmy going missing from the national news channels? I’d like to think they were probably really sad about it and tried looking for him themselves :( OR since they already know about fairies and everything, when Timmy turned into a fairy, did he ever pop by and say hi and told them that he was alright and everything was fine so they wouldn’t be so sad? If he did, does he still visit them in Jimmy’s lab even as adults so they all can still hang out once more and ever explain why he became a fairy? I wonder if that would sort of get Jimmy to maybe just a little bit believe in magic

Anyways I’m sorry if this is so long 😭

aw don't apologize! its fine, and thank you for the virtual hug haha

i haven't even thought about including the Jimmy Timmy power hour in the au honestly. i did some quick research and it seems like many people do consider the trilogy canon on both shows.

so.. if we do wanna take it into the wacky crossover territory. well,

Sheen probably pestered Jimmy into visiting Timmy again since its been a while and he was bored. Jimmy eventually faltered and dug out the old portal door he had build. setting it up attracted their other friends and they all wanted to go.

When they arrived at Dimmsdale however they quickly learned about Timmys disappearance from AJ and Chester. they offered to help look but they also couldn't find anything that day. they eventually had to go back home.

Jimmy however couldn't really let it go. he was a genius! if anyone could help, then it was him right? so he cooked up a plan and went back and asked around for some kind of DNA samples of Timmy. Jimmy then build some kind of locating machine that brings them to the one they want to find.

he then teleported right into the living room of Cosmo and Wanda where Timmy currently was. to say they were all surprised is an understatement haha

since Timmy was a fairy now, there were no consequences of telling Jimmy the actual truth anymore. (since Jimmy is from an differente Dimension - LOOPHOLE hehe) So Timmy was able to properly explain that yes magic was real in Timmys dimension and that he simply wanted to stay with his fairy family. (maybe he properly introduced them hehe)

Timmy also begged Jimmy not to tell anyone. ESPECIALLY anyone from Timmys dimension.

[panelshowsource]

i’d love to know, what are some panel show moments you think about a lot?

omg like just off the top of my head?

just the whole episode of cats after jimmy's tax avoidance scandal

"good evening your majesty you tax-dodging bitch"

david mumbling "chancellor of the exchequer" in small font

when the horne section was doing macarena on catsdown and the rose was so limp WHY WAS IT SO LIMP

the greatest breath smeller game

"this makes me so angry because they wouldn't show the clip of me attacking my mother with a taser! i thought it was really funny!"

josh groban being an absolute wizard at singing intros followed by martin freeman being an absolute wizard at guessing them to the point production asked him to slow down giving the answer because he was too good

when stacey solomon said she likes teresa may and jimmy carr, gino d'acampo, and carol vorderman were absolutely speechless

alex’s reaction after joe says he has pineapple in his ass

when jimmy used the 30 seconds to wax his leg??

the way the queen’s pussy being haunted was like genuine headline news

mark sending greg 148 texts and getting 0 points ("what a terrible waste of time")

when that nude model came on for jimmy to (pretend) to live draw and lee mack was so gobsmacked at that man's penis he violently elbowed david o'doherty going "look at that!"

"you wouldn't do that during shakespeare, would you?"

on outsiders when joe wilkinson couldn't believe david mitchell is only 47 and literally said "do you live outside"

phil wang roasting ed gamble and saying "ed's girlfriend is such a dog i tried to eat her"

"you cannot imply that only gay people eat vegetables"

♪ but bin men get sad ♪

when those podcasters were reading joe wilkinson his own tweets and he was sweating so much and then just covered his eyes and went "what's wrong with me..."

"stephen fry wouldn't read 'pussy-friendly finger'"

when johnny vegas was literally eating a tin of fucking dog food and kathy burke was like "what's happening??" and jimmy so nonchalantly went "we're just eating dog food :)"

when noel ate some of alex's beard and greg said "you are aware that when we're at home alex is only allowed to move around like a snake?"

every joe & rachel hug ever here's a cute one :')

claudia completely bodying this lie and everyone's animals being so cute and funny and rob and lee complaining just the whole thing

on rhlstp when richard was Being Richard for the last hour and louis theroux was Over It and richard went "have you ever tried to suck your own cock?" and louis just died and then muttered "...do we have to..."

"i don't really eat potatoes it feels a bit irish :/"

johnny vegas pulling something out of rhod gilbert's pants, sniffing it, and then scandalising the entire room by saying "i've been told i smell better from behind than i do from the front, lovers have told me"

gosh my rotted brain is always rattling around panel show moments ..i wish to be cured

[alanaartdream]

Adding some more sketches /drawings to my fairly odd parents Jimmy Timmy power hour Nicktoons unite fairy Timmy ideas

Now I love just LOVE everyone else au ideas of what happen to Timmy Turner before Fairly odd parents a wish happened and where he might turn up in a new wish series

So far not many are adding in the Jimmy Tommy power hour series/ episodes and the nicktoons unite games into those au so I’ve been playing that into my au ideas of Fairy Timmy

(( you can all ask questions about my ideas if you like I don’t mind; I’m just busy with work/ life as well but don’t mind answering questions about this au; I might even draw something if I have the time (can ask about other interests I have I don’t mind that either)

Anyway a lot seem to think Dev is like Timmy and that well Peri could adopt Him like Wanda and Cosmo can with Timmy and well like how butch use to leave a lot of plot holes in the original fairly odd parents series there are a few plot holes I can see with this ( I mean it be great if peri could do that for Dev but well Dev a totally different kid to Timmy) for starters Timmy never ever wanted to rule over everyone at heart Timmy was a kid who just wanted to be loved and liked ( if you wanted to be friends with him and hang out play games/ watch movies and read comics heck even go on world saving adventures with him he’d LoVe that and think you were the coolest just for doing that (heck Timmy would of loved anime manga my hero academia and delicious in dungeon because those 2 have things like adventures heroes and making friends along the way he’s not interested in controlling everyone or having them worship the very grown he walks on nah that’s not what Timmy wants he wants people to appreciate love and want to hang out with him) Timmy would be friends with Hazel in a heart beat; heck man in one of Jimmy Timmy power hour episodes Jimmy was surprised that Timmy was happy to hang out with him even though at the time they were both interested in Cindy even though he finds Jimmy to be a nerd he still likes to honestly hang out with Jimmy ( and even through his friends Chester and AJ ignore him first Timmy still willing to say sorry for ignoring them; heck man Jimmy a better friend to Timmy than AJ and Chester have been like sometimes you wonder why Timmy wants to be friends with them; they’ve jilted him quite a few episodes heck not once did they try to make him feel better over all the crap Cocker or Vicky put him through (they just ignore all of the crap Timmy going through)

Only ones who truly appreciated and loved Timmy are the fairies so I can totally see him siding with fairies over Pixies & anti fairies and it would be so easy for him to let go of his human life because with his parents neglecting him/ the abuse from Vicky cocker and bullying he had to go through annndd his so called friends not really caring what happens to him unless they needed something from him? Yeah can totally see him going to live with the fairies and becoming a fairy for the rest of his life and never going back

Also don’t see Timmy growing up to be mean under his birth parents more like one of those people who cannot help try to people please everyone event though it sometimes hurts him because with friends/ family he had only seem interested in him unless he can do something to please them and the only one who truly liked him was Tootie so probably be married or dating her like he’d see she was only true friend and they both hate Vicky so probably move away from her to get some peace and quiet; toothie would make him get therapy to deal with abuse he suffer as a kid because she’d understand; so she’s likely to work with children and Timmy would likely be a lawyer/ work with children as well

In my au Timmy becomes a fairy and grows up a fairy under Wanda and Cosmo care (as well as all the fairies looking out for him)

He’s been fairy world’s hero from when he was just a godkid; he would help with the Da Rules book but also handle lawyers cases with kids and even keep on saving fairy world and universe with the nicktoons untie gang

Fairy world would trust the nicktoons unite gang for sure

Now dev he wants control he wants people to worship him so he can get his dad’s approval/attention; he doesn’t care who he has to step on to get there as long as he gets what he wants; he doesn’t care about being friends with others as much as Timmy AND Hazel do; it’s not until he realises that he’s never going get his dad’s love that he realises he’s been aweful and that to make friends you cannot step on everyone and force them to worship you to get people to like you

Jimmy and the nicktoons unite gang would be pissed off at this kid while Timmy feels sorry for him

And peri couldn’t adopt Dev though he’s still very inexperienced when dealing with children who need help (dev his first god kid and he’s fresh out fairy god parents training so he’s trying to do everything right by the book because he’s so new at it he’s soo not ready to be a full time father just yet; best he can be for Dev is his babysitter/ godparents)

Wanda & Cosmo have had soo soo many God kids before they got Timmy (and a lot of their past god kids use to abuse their magic to cause a great many wrongs; heck one even started one of the big world wars) love fell in Love with Timmy and just love how creative Timmy’s wishes are and they understood fully that most of the time Timmy’s wishes were a reflection of all the abuse; neglect and abandoning Timmy had to go through; they Had to take over being his parents because his birth parents they killed every plant under their own care (and every time Tommy went to camp and left pets in their care they killed it; also Tommy got gaslighted into saying sorry to all the zombie version of those pets when he wish for everything to live in his parents garden because his parents keep killing the garden when his parents were the ones who killed the pets and said the pets run away)

At this point I think Wanda Cosmo; heck even Jorginho acknowledges to all fairy kind that Timmy’s birth parents are not fit to raise kids (thank goodness they only had one; if they had any others Timmy would’ve had to step in and care for them so his parents wouldn’t end up killing them as well ) also Timmy seeing how sad Wanda and cosmo couldn’t even have a kid of their own thus why they became god parents together in the 1st place wishes Poof/peri into existence for them and how couldn’t they fall even more in love with this kid Timmy for giving them something they never could have before? At that point Timmy was particularly family so yeah they just couldn’t let him keep suffering anymore so would fairy adopt him and take him away

Also to add in some more happiness I believe Jimmy would love Hazel being they both love to study rocks ( fairy Timmy would find that adorable watching them talking about rocks)

The nicktoons unite gang would love her too being as she’s quite a imaginative sweet kid (a bit more mature than Timmy was though so all of them try to let her be a kid around them feeling like she’s probably made to be too grown up around her parents and not let to be just a kid too often)

Also my fairy of Felicity being the as she’s an art fairy would probably love to try to draw paint Hazel being as it’s not often she gets to draw people with curly hair

[canarydarity]

(haha happy new year! Heres 6K words of DL ranchers fighting 🤩 [ao3]) dull&slow

There was no feeling like a respawn; it was like jumping off of a building with nothing below to catch you, only to discover you had in fact been fastened into a harness when the bungee cord snapped taut. Except, it also wasn’t like that at all, because the mechanics of respawning—regardless of permanence—did nothing to curb the feeling of death, the actual sensation of dying. All it really did was remove the relief that one might experience had death been final, for what is death but a merciful release from pain? 

Jimmy imagined that there were few things that could even begin to feel like what a respawn did—the simultaneous cracking of all your joints at once in a manner akin to a human glow stick; ice cream that had been left out on the counter to melt but was then shoved back into the freezer again after only making it to that indescribably viscous stage between solid and liquid; a jam in a paper shredder—the kind where half of the page is relieved and sticking out of the top, completely intact and fine, while the rest is in ribbons below, still warm to the touch at the recent dismemberment. 

And that was only the physical aspect—the violent draw of your subconscious from the brink of death to perfect health mid-panic was something else entirely. It never got any easier, no matter how many times he did it (and Jimmy did it a lot). 

This was their second respawn, but it was different in the way that it happened unlike it did the first time: together. It was new but not unexpected to shoot up in bed at the ranch, cows mooing to his left and moonlight peaking through the window to his right. Jimmy heaved some breaths in and out; logically, he knew he was fine, but his body remembered the vertigo of falling. 

Tango was next to him, still lying back in their small bed staring at the ceiling. 

For a few beats, they were quiet, they caught their breath. The buzz of the cicadas outside was heavy in a way, droning alongside the cacophony of cows and the muted clucks of chickens from below ground. 

When his eyes began to itch and dry out from staring at nothing and his heaving sounded more like huffing, Jimmy broke the silence first. 

“I was leanin’ over the edge…why was I leaning over the edge?” His words were incredulous and barely there, only formed enough to actually get them out of his mouth but not any further. Had Tango not been right next to him, he probably wouldn’t have heard. 

Tango sat up, “Jim, hey–hey!” One of Tango’s hands reached behind Jimmy and settled on his shoulder, the other moved across himself to settle on Jimmy’s arm. “It’s okay! It’s only our second life, it was bound to happen sooner or la—”

Jimmy blinked out of his daze to realize Tango was soothing him; It was not shocking in the way it hadn’t happened before—it had actually, in fact, happened quite often—but in the way it was happening now. the combination of noises pushing in all around the ranch, having just lived through dying, again, and Tango’s warmth that he would’ve appreciated any other time, made it all immediately too much. Tango was soothing him—Tango misunderstood. 

It was instinct to throw Tango’s arm off of him, to scatter, to stand and create distance, and had Jimmy been in the right state of mind he would’ve explained that and apologized, but Tango’s shocked offense was the last thing he was focusing on. 

“No, you—why was I leaning over the edge?” 

It was the only thought that had run through his head since he’d woken up and stopped feeling like an egg mid-scramble. Not worry about being on red life, not concern about having been the one to return the favor of killing Tango this time, not upset that things were shaping up like they always did. 

Tango wasn’t necessarily wrong to assume that that’s where Jimmy’s thoughts had gone, as that’s usually where they would have. But this was not Jimmy when he was anxious, when he was guilty; This was Jimmy when he was mad.

He was pacing, but he wasn’t aware when it had started. He was just—he couldn’t stop thinking about fish. Or—no, not fish, parasites; there was this parasite he’d heard about that matures in the eye of a fish but reproduces in the belly of a bird. Jimmy had heard this and thought what a stupid, impossible thing—and he’d thought he had shit luck.  

That was until he’d heard the rest. Under control of the parasite, infected fish swim closer and closer to the surface of the water, leading it to be spotted and picked up by a bird; the parasite ends up where it needed to be all along, and that damned stupid fish is what gets it there. It doesn’t know what it’s doing, it’s not choosing to swim near the surface—by that point, the parasite is choosing for it—but it’s still— 

It just—

The fish gets itself eaten, essentially. The scariest part, Jimmy thought, was that he wasn’t sure the fish even knew. Was it aware it had been infected? Or was it swimming up and up and up and thinking what the fuck am I doing? Was it resting precariously below the surface, watching in fear as the birds circle, knowing all it had to do to avoid being eaten was swim the fuck back down, but for some reason, it just couldn’t?

Jimmy just—why was he leaning over the edge? His hands were wrapped around his stomach, griping his sides, hard. His teeth were grinding together, or he was biting his lip, or he was mumbling nonsense that even he didn’t know what meant. 

The floorboards of the ranch creaked and groaned with his pacing, and Tango remained watching from the bed, his face still painted in confusion. 

A noise—something caught between a whine and a grumble—worked its way out of Jimmy's throat, and more words came with it.  

“I saw them with their bows and arrows out—Joel, Etho, Scott—and I—” He shook his head. “We’d have been fine if I just didn’t peak my head over!” 

Jimmy turned back to Tango and pointed at him; Tango blinked, but the accusation delivered wasn’t for him. “And they weren’t even shooting at Grian, at—why weren’t they shooting at anyone else?”

Tango shook his head a little, opened his mouth to reply, but Jimmy wasn’t done. “I don’t understand—I don’t—” he grabbed at his hair and pulled; he bit into his lip again, not stopping when it started to hurt even though he knew Tango must’ve felt the ghost of it too. Jimmy rocked in place, “I even thought it. I thought ‘what are you leaning over the edge for, idiot!’ And then!” 

Jimmy spun, but no form of movement could match the direction of his thoughts, the restlessness of his mind. He felt like he was malfunctioning, every action begun and then subsequently aborted in favor of another; as if he could stop it all if he could just get himself to feel physically how he felt mentally, equilibrium a sort of saving grace. 

Jimmy hit himself in the head once like he could knock things back into place, fix whatever was loose in there–get the paper to start shredding again; in pieces, maybe, things would be okay. There was a call behind him of stop that, hey, none of that! and the bed creaked as Tango finally made the move to stand. 

���I don’t understand,” Jimmy mumbled again. They were inside, but his hair still felt the wind ruffle through it as though he were at high altitude; his hands touched nothing, but he could grip the hardwood of the defense tower all the same, rough and splintering. Joel and Etho had stood so far below, looking up, each with a hand up to their eyes to shield them from the sun. Jimmy remembered every detail about that moment—Grian had been leaning over right next to him. “Stupid parasite and it—why weren’t they shooting at anyone else? All I had to do was not lean over…”

Jimmy startled when Tango spoke again, he’d forgotten for a moment he wasn’t alone. 

“I don’t follow—parasite? What pa—”

Right, he wasn’t alone. 

“Gosh, and I’ve killed you, too, we’re–we’re red!” Jimmy said, facing Tango again. “And we’re back to nothing, we’ve lost everything—the horns, they’d have taken them by now, surely.” The anger from before seeped back into his voice, and Tango kept his space; a part of Jimmy felt bad at that, but he mostly felt validated. The guilt would come later, his chest didn’t house the room to feel so many things at once. 

Though space didn’t mean Tango was willing to stay out of things completely. 

“Jimmy, just hold on, I can’t keep up.” Tango was clearly still thrown by the direction things had gone in—he’d been expecting to reassure, not pacify—but Jimmy didn’t have it in him to stop and explain. His hands out like he was corralling a feral animal, he said, “What are you even…? Slow down, alright.” 

And maybe that was the last straw—his soulmate, known for his rage, asking him to calm, to slow down; the stark contrast between the Tango standing in front of him—hands splayed, face confused but determined—and the Tango who’d needed to be restrained as the ranch smoldered behind them; the fact that it was Jimmy who was being looked at like a time bomb with not even 5 seconds left to spare. 

This time, the accusation was meant for Tango, and Jimmy watched him stumble a little in shock when he received it. He threw his hand out like he’d needed that extra strength to pull the question from him, like his throat wasn’t up for the challenge alone, like he had to prove this was something he wanted to start and start now.  

“Why aren’t you mad?”

Tango’s face wound up with disbelief. “What?” 

Jimmy’s voice wasn’t made to be raised, but he gave it his best effort. It hurt, in a way—his throat not used to the coarse delivery; it hurt more for the fact that he’d made Tango the object of its direction. 

“You’re sitting here, and you’re calm,” he spat. “And—and you’re telling ME to be calm! Me!” Jimmy huffed again at the ridiculousness of the entire situation. “Why aren’t you mad?”

This time as Jimmy spoke, Tango wound down; he visibly CTRL+ALT+DLT-ed, a total system shutdown reboot. His hands dropped back to his sides and he stood up straighter. His face reset until he was just blankly watching Jimmy sputter and steam. He was still in a way Tango rarely was.

Jimmy thought it was the most un-Tango-like thing he’d ever seen, and that just made things worse. 

“Because it was going to happen either way, I could’ve just as eas—” its delivery was flat, like Tango knew he was stepping off of a bear trap but onto a landmine; though he did it anyway, and in most circumstances, his dedication to the idea of if at first you don’t succeed! was something Jimmy found endearing. If it wasn’t clear enough already, this was not most circumstances. 

Jimmy made a noise of dissent. This wasn’t—

“No, not—that’s not what I meant.”

A few beats of silence. They argued with the awkward hesitation of two people who’d never fought before and therefore didn’t know the procedure; neither of them had had time to memorize their lines. Fight was something they didn’t do—partially because they hadn’t been together long enough to garner the need, and partially because they got along with a simplicity they hadn’t expected. There was a question in this lapse between one comment and the next, an are we really going to do this?  

Tango blinked at Jimmy. “You don’t mean why am I not mad at you?” 

It would’ve been an easy out if he had. A way to walk them back to familiar ground—the kind where Jimmy was apologetic and guilty and anxious and Tango was steady and reassuring and kind. 

He couldn’t lie and say that wasn’t part of it; he was a liability, and he would never be over Tango being his collateral damage. 

He looked away from Tango, “Well—”

“Jimmy…” Pity was such an ugly, regretful thing. 

“No! No—yes, that’s not what I mean.” And it really wasn’t—at least, not at first, not completely. That was the undertone that would drive all his decisions and thoughts and feelings, it’s true, but this was different. This was—they’d died, Jimmy killed them, and Tango wasn’t upset about it; moreover, Tango was docile, passive. He was—

“Then I don’t understand what you’re asking me.”

—resigned. 

Jimmy didn’t yet look back, because he knew it would be his turn to talk when he did. All that he had to explain lacked the rationale to be said aloud; simply put, he was mad because Tango wasn’t. 

“You’re gonna have to give me something to go off of here, Jim.”

Eyes still fixed resolutely on the wall, Jimmy repeated the only sentiment he really could express at the time. “You’re not mad…” He let the end trail off, embarrassed it was all he had to offer, knowing it was unfair to Tango, knowing a normal person would’ve been able to voice more; just another way Jimmy fell behind. 

“At?”

“At anything!” He was discovering that when he did yell, his voice got high, and he tended to cut off the ends of his words. They shortened, got sucked up into the emotion until they weren’t letters anymore but sounds. “You’re—I had to restrain you, practically, after Scar burned down the ranch! And I wasn’t there, but I heard about last life and I—”

He felt like his sentences were being recorded in takes; start and stop, start—stop, mark! He would sound so much better edited together. He needed a script, surely he’d be able to say the right words had someone else given them to him. He’d do it right then, he knew. Of course arguing, too, was something he wasn’t good at.

Jimmy gestured at Tango, “You’re not mad, at anything, you’re just standin’ here! We’re going to die and it’s like you don’t even…like you’re not upset.” The final clause came out dejected and unsure; it sounded like it belonged to a completely different conversation. If he were reading lines, he’d likely receive notes about consistency and remaining in character. It was hard to do that when he wasn’t sure who he was or was ever supposed to be.

Tango looked no less confused. “That’s how the game works, Jimmy—we’re all going to die at some point.”

“I know that, Tango, I know.” Jimmy bit his lip. “How are you just okay with it?”

Tango’s eyebrows raised in shock, the kind that spoke to his questioning the audacity of something. “Well, I’m not happy about it, bu—”

“You are, though.” 

Eyes narrow, frustration finally starting to seep in, Tango said: “No, I’m not.”

“You are!” This felt more tantrum than argument; more whining about not getting his way than making a point about having been wronged; he wasn’t really sure he had been wronged. At least, not by Tango. But he didn’t know how to rewind, he didn’t think there was a going back. 

“Damnit, Jimmy, I’m not. You think I want to lose this?” 

No, Jimmy didn’t—and that’s why he was so confused. 

“Then why aren’t you angry that’s what I don’t…” This line of questioning wasn’t going to work—he’d already discovered that again and again. He needed to figure out a different direction to head in. “Even now I’m yellin’ at you and you’re just there.”

“So now you’re mad because I’m not yelling at you?” Annoyance, frustration, irritation—they were close, but none of them were what Jimmy wanted. Or—not what he wanted but what he needed. People were mad at him far too often for him to crave it in this uncommon time when no one was, but he needed to know Tango was with him on this.

“No, Tango!” Jimmy whined.

“Well you’re not explaining anything, what am I supposed to think? That’s what it sounds like you’re saying to me!” His voice finally at an above-normal volume, Jimmy shrunk; reality wasn’t ever quite like expectation, was it? The simultaneous relief mixed with the guilt, and everything got worse; he thought maybe that’d been his goal all along, he could see it now that it had occurred. And yet, it wasn’t right; sure, Tango was mad—but he still didn’t get it. Tango kept rambling.

“You’re mad that I’m not mad, and you say it’s not about you, but then you’re also mad I’m not yelling at you—which I have yet to figure out, by the way, and—” 

Following Tango’s wild hand gestures, Jimmy’s eyes landed on their wall of chests, and he knew what he needed to do. He scooted past Tango, who turned to keep facing him, and started rooting around until he found what he was looking for. 

“Oh, and you’re ignoring me too, now, which is neat,” Tango said to his back.

He’d wrapped it in a bundle of spare wool hoping that bed made they wouldn’t need much else and Tango wouldn’t find it on accident, but he pulled it out now and turned back to face Tango gripping it in his hand.

His soulmate shut up immediately, his gaze first on Jimmy’s hand, and then up at his eyes. 

“Where did you get that.” The anger was finally there, but Jimmy didn’t immediately respond. “Why do you have that?”

The golden apple was cold in his hand, colder than he thought it should have been. It glowed slightly in the darkness of the ranch, a yellow hue that spread out in a dim radius; he had the bizarre thought that it would've made a good nightlight had it not been illegal. Jimmy had always been a bit scared of the dark (he’d been pleased, then, when the game had started and he found that his soulmate glowed just the same). He didn’t need the apple sitting on the lid of their chests to provide light—not so long as he had Tango; how ironic then that he only got both or none, that consuming—and therefore getting rid of—the apple would rid him of Tango, too. 

Jimmy didn’t want to be left alone in the dark, but that was sort of why he looked back at Tango and he said, “I think you should eat it.”

“No.” It was both a response and an expression of disbelief rolled into one; a no, this conversation is not happening, not now, and a no way in hell is that thing getting anywhere near my mouth. The stillness was back, but it was more dangerous this time; less resigned, more preparing to strike.

Jimmy repeated himself, lifting his arm and holding the apple between them as he did. “Tango, you should eat it.”

“No.” Tango shook his head. “Jimmy, I said no.” 

“Why not?”

“Why not?” A sardonic, humorless laugh made its way out of Tango, and Jimmy flinched at the sound; a broken echo of their usual selves. “This is a joke, right? There’s something here that I’m missing that makes this all super-happy-funny and we’ll laugh about it in 5 minutes.”

“I’m serious, Tango.”

His hands on his hips, Tango nodded at Jimmy as he said, “you are.” It was deceptively compliant, mockingly understanding. Jimmy was misled often enough in conversation to recognize when he was being set up, but he hadn’t quite yet learned the skill of letting things go; he walked again and again through a door labeled trap! which was how he knew he was doing it now. 

“Yes...” 

“Serious-serious, you’re seriously asking me why I don’t want to eat a golden apple.” Tango doubling down, Tango continuing to misunderstand, the fact that Jimmy couldn’t blame him for any of it, the feeling of everything at once, and the knowledge that all was out of his control; he felt his eyes well up with tears of frustration. 

“That’s what I just said...” Dejected, a clown waiting for the punchline—waiting for others to laugh at his expense; setting up joke after joke, forgetting what it was like to not provide the entertainment. 

“Well I just wanted to confirm before I informed you that that’s the stupidest question I’ve ever been asked in my entire life.” It was at this point that Jimmy let out a breath, and a tear fell with it. “Like, wow it’s almost an accomplishment how stupid that question is.”

“Tango…” He’d plead but he knew he didn’t have the right—not in this conversation of his own devising. It wouldn’t be a lie to say he didn’t know how they got here, but it wouldn’t be the truth either. 

“Really! I’d make you a ribbon to commemorate and everything if we had literally anything to our name at all.”

Catching the opportunity to jump back in, Jimmy took it. “Okay, that—that’s my point.” 

“That I haven't offered to make you a rib—” 

Jimmy cut Tango off again before he could stuff the conversation with more nonsense in defense. “That we have nothing—have had nothing since we started!” 

It was more than just luck—it was design. There came a point where chance ended, a place coincidence didn’t reach. Jimmy had dwelled long enough in the space between unlucky and doomed to know that one was cyclic, intermittent, while the other was ceaseless, fixed. Luck would come and go, but damnation? That kind of fate had been here since before all of them, and would remain long after. 

The subject was taboo, but there wasn’t a single person on this server who was unaware that Jimmy was ill-fated. They poked and prodded him about it, but any level of seriousness to the conversation was buried under veiled laughter and slightly glassy eyes; the kind of sheen to a stare that said even if they tried, they couldn’t know what it was they talked about. To everyone else, Jimmy’s “curse” was a bit they’d overindulged in; to Jimmy, it was a burden he wasn’t allowed to acknowledge. They didn’t let him. 

He’d thought maybe…Tango was being forced to share it; maybe something would click; maybe they’d let him have this for just a few weeks. 

Jimmy didn’t think he could get any more stupid. 

The sarcasm remained equipped, defenses high. “Well, I’m sorry that you think I’m not doing enough to provide for you, Jimmy, bu—”

Jimmy groaned again. “Tango can you be serious for 2 minutes! 2 minutes, please!” 

“No!” Tango was looking at him in a way he never did; a look that conveyed I cannot believe you, the underlying sentiment of dismissal that hurt more for it coming from the only person who’d ever really listened to him without reservation.“You know what, no, I cannot. If you’re going to start a ridiculous argument you’re going to get ridiculous responses—you don’t like it, too bad.”

Jimmy had been involved in a lot of ridiculous arguments before—it came with being a reactive person; he existed with defenses always already half-raised, on high alert for anything that might make him the center of negative attention. 

But this wasn’t one of them. The ranch, Tango, soulmates—they were easily the most valuable things he’d ever had—and that was why he couldn’t have them. He was going to lose it—he was already losing it; it never hurt so much when he was the only thing he had. “Gosh, dont you get it?! There’s nothing we can do—nothing! I’m gonna kill us, you understand?”

It felt good to say it out loud, to watch Tango blink in the face of such bluntness. Somehow his shock betrayed his lucidity, and proved to Jimmy what he’d feared all along: Tango felt it too. 

And that made him circle all the way back to the beginning of this stupid roundabout conversation. Maybe he didn’t know it in so many words, having less time to experience it than Jimmy did but Tango knew—their time was running out; running out in a way it didn’t for anyone else playing these games; running out in a way Jimmy had—until now—never before been allowed to acknowledge. Tango knew. 

And Tango wasn’t mad. 

“Ugh, this is—this is childish, is what it is! I don’t…I can’t believe this is happening. This is—it’s madness.” What did they bother going in circles for if they were just going to end up right where they’d started?

“You’re the one trying to force feed me a golden apple,” Tango grumbled, eyebrows raised and face mocking as he looked at the cows. A few of them were standing against the fence staring back, mooing insistently; a strange audience for a strange night. 

“Because I’m sick of it, Tango!” He was, once again, not the right recipient of this complaint, but what else was Jimmy to do? Seasons of grief built up in one desperate conversation, it was becoming more a list of grievances than a call to action. “Of all of it! Of the jokes, of losing, of—of not being in control of anything, of dying—and you—”

“Me?” Tango huffed, interrupting. “Wow, tell me how you really feel, Jim.”

Jimmy shook his head and looked down, a dismissal; his answer immediate and unhesitant. “No, that’s not what I—” 

Sick of Tango—it wasn’t possible, but he saw in his hands that he still clutched the golden apple, and he was reminded again of all the ways in which he was dangerous; of the ways in which he was the heavy rock tied around Tango’s ankle, sinking slowly despite all efforts. He closed his eyes, tight, hard enough to hurt, and swallowed the bile in his throat. “You know what, yeah. I am.”

He looked up again to look at Tango, forcing himself to look determined, sure. “Yes, I’m sick of you.”

“Jimmy…” There was a warning there, but following warnings was never Jimmy’s strong suit. 

“I am!” He didn’t think there was much of a chance Tango would believe him, but he loved Tango enough that he owed it to him to try. “I’m sick of you and how calm you’re being. We’re losing everything, again, always and you’re just standin’ around and I’m sick of it, Tango.” 

Tango refused to answer, and Jimmy knew to be any convincing at all, he had to commit. 

“I’m sick of this place,” he gestured around the ranch, rebuilt since the fire but still nowhere near as advanced as the other bases on the server; they could try and try and try but they’d never reach that level; they couldn’t be allowed to have an actual chance. “and—and how we built it from nothing and it still didn’t matter. We weren’t even doing that bad, and we’re still losing, and I’m sick of that, too!” 

Tango standing still, Tango with his hands on his hips, Tango refusing to rise to the bait in Jimmy’s words. “I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t believe me? Fine, I’ll just keep going then.” He shrugged, undeterred, glancing around as if he wasn’t bothered—and his eyes landed on the cows in the corner, still watching them as if simply their being awake meant they’d be getting fed. Jimmy raised the arm with the golden apple, using it to point at them. “These stupid cows mooing all the time—the chickens—might as well just kill ‘em all now, 'cause they’re not going to matter either, are they? I’m over this place, and—and everyone else treating us like a joke.”

He looked back at Tango when he’d finished. “And I know you’re sick of it too, you are.”

“I’m not.” This, finally, was familiar ground—Jimmy projecting, Tango reassuring—but for once, Jimmy wished his anxiety proven right, he wished Tango would give in and admit that this wasn’t what he wanted—that Jimmy wasn’t what he wanted; not if it meant the absence of a fair chance.  

“You are, you have to be.” And it was somewhat like begging. Jimmy’s never begged someone to be sick of him before—he was usually pleading for the opposite; how backward, how wrong, everything in him screaming what are you doing?! No one else had ever treated him like Tango did. 

He sniffed once—as he was still crying—and kept listing things; the sort of fears it would kill him if Tango validated, but he said them anyway. If there was any chance it’d get Tango to eat the apple and be safe. 

“You’re sick of having to cater to me, right? Of having to answer a million questions and reassure.” Tango began to shake his head, but Jimmy ignored it and kept going, stepping closer to his soulmate. 

“And I bet you’re sick of losing, too. You don’t want to lose, Tango, not again, right?” It was a low blow, but Tango didn’t look hurt so much as he looked sad; he accepted Jimmy’s meanness as a product of his fear, and he curbed his offense to make room for the heartbreak. 

Figures that Jimmy starts a needless argument insulting Tango endlessly and was still the most pitied in the room. He didn’t know if it was a product of his selfishness or Tango’s altruism, but the effect remained the same. 

Within arms reach at last, Tango raised a hand but stopped it midway between them, unsure if breaching this distance was yet allowed. When Jimmy didn’t do anything about it, Tango lowered his hand until it rested on the front-facing part of Jimmy’s shoulder, eyebrows furrowed, not trusting that this was over.

Jimmy mirrored Tango with his own hand, feeling the warmth of Tango’s vest and above-average temperature below—the heat that’d been keeping him warm at night when they couldn’t splurge on extra blankets or were sleeping in a half-burned-down building or just because. He only allowed himself to feel it for a second before he pushed—not hard, but enough to make Tango take a step back, more because he wasn’t expecting it than due to force. 

“Come on,” Jimmy pled. “Fight back. Get mad, hit me.”

“I’m not going to hit you, Jimmy.”

Jimmy stepped forward and pushed again, both hands; not harder but more firm. “Fight back, Tango, come on.”

“No.” Tango’s face was scrunched together in the most vehement disagreement he could give, and, out of options—out of energy—Jimmy made another noise somewhere between a whine and a groan and raised his hands again, only for Tango to catch them this time and drag Jimmy closer; dropping his hands the second he was within holding distance, one of Tagno’s arms wrapped around him and the other cradled the back of Jimmy’s head as he pulled it down towards his shoulder. Their height difference made it difficult at first, but they’d been practicing for weeks. 

Jimmy went without protest, arms at Tango’s waist, screwing his eyes shut tight enough that he could almost pretend he didn’t hear the I’ve got you’s that he didn’t deserve but Tango was nonetheless whispering to the side of his head. He wanted to protest—or, no, he wanted to want to protest; to keep trying until Tango understood, until Jimmy screwed up enough that Tango got fed up and left the way anyone else would’ve done weeks ago, possibly just upon finding out they were paired. 

“You’re okay—we’re okay,” Tango said. “I’ve got you. We’re going to be okay,” hand steady on the back of Jimmy’s head, holding fast when he tried to shake it and express his opposition. Jimmy didn’t think that ‘okay’ had a place here, not for them, not anymore. 

They were on their last life now, he could feel the effects of being red thrumming through him, though they weren’t as much to blame for the damage he’d caused as he wished; this disaster, like most, was entirely Jimmy’s own. 

Still murmuring and offering reassurance, fingers of one hand still scratching through Jimmy’s hair, Tango used his other to gently pry the golden apple from Jimmy—no longer putting up a fight—and toss it away without looking until it rolled on the wood flooring through the gate of the cow pen. Jimmy watched, head still on Tango’s shoulder, as the cows shuffled around for the lobbed apple, mooing increasingly louder until, after a crunch or two, it was assumed no longer there. 

He felt more so than heard Tango clear his throat, the motion vibrating through Jimmy like a warning. “I am mad,” Tango whispered, voice only half-formed at the low volume. “I am,” he repeated, “don’t think I’m not.” His tone the kind of calm that only gave way to true anger. “But what can we do?”

Jimmy closed his eyes. He didn’t know. 

~-~-~-~-~-~-~

They’re in bed after, facing each other in the dark; Tango watching Jimmy, Jimmy watching their clasped hands between them. Tango’s thumb ran along the ridges and valleys of his knuckles, waiting for something, though he didn’t know what. In his mind, Jimmy was running through all he had to offer—the things he should say, the things he couldn’t voice—but what he kept getting stuck on was:

“I didn’t mean it.”

“I know,” Tango said; not exasperated, not upset, just matter of fact. 

Jimmy raised his eyes to Tangos, shaking his head as much as he could while lying down, not willing to risk any more miscommunication, “I’m not sick of it here.” 

“I know, Jimmy.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Shhh,” Tango pulled their joined hands until Jimmy scooted forward, head under Tango’s chin, all not forgotten but, at the moment, behind them. They were on their red life, after all—there were other things to worry about. 

Jimmy knew that the fact that Tango loved him shouldn’t be one of them, but when it was more than he wanted to live, it was. There was nothing he could do about it now. They would wake up in bed tomorrow and, maybe if they were lucky, the day after that—but there wouldn't be another respawn. They were out of time, out of options—this was it. 

Tango loved him, Tango wasn’t going anywhere. He didn’t need to press his ear further into Tango’s chest to hear his heartbeat—not when it was an echo of his own—but he did it anyway and tried not to number the beats like a countdown, to assign them values and limitations. 

He squeezed Tango tighter, comfort disregarded; it was an offering where words had previously failed him, though there was no guarantee that his message would translate this way either. Physicality was another language Jimmy had never gained proficiency in—pretty much any method of communication verbal or non-verbal was—but he owed it to Tango to try. The trace of his fingers along Tango’s spine said I’m sorry, his breath on Tango’s chest whispered of how he’d spare Tango’s heart from his if he could; forehead to collarbone asked if things could still be normal tomorrow, since there was now a very real possibility that tomorrow was all they had. 

He didn’t bother interpreting the response, focus lost as Jimmy tried and failed not to drift away on the subliminal messaging of his own; that this was his loss, his failure, his fault. 

If he’d tried, maybe he’d have read the brush of Tango’s fingers through his hair as I don’t mind, the press of lips to the top of his head as reaffirming the deliberate choice being made—the decision to stay, to be a part of this. 

But he didn’t. Jimmy was stuck, and not at all like he had thought. Maybe he wasn’t the fish, maybe he was the parasite; the birds were circling and Jimmy could beg all he wanted, but Tango loved him. Tango wasn’t going to swim down. 

Tango wasn’t going anywhere.

[c1trvswrites]

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖ Theres a New Day Coming ⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

PROLOGUE: Le Fleur

read on ao3 ->

To much.

It was all too damn much.

The studio lights were bright--so bright they felt like a thousand suns scorching his skin, each beam a silent accusation,  prosecution all lined up and gunning for his head yet they all just sat there...waiting with anticipation.  James… Jimmy--what does it matter anymore-- sat rigidly on his chair, porcelain, fragile, delicate.  Like a box with the words: HANDLE WITH CARE plastered all over it.  Trapped and wrapped in a tableau of courage and applause, his palms damp against his pressed white shirt.  Bad call on his part. He could already feel the sweat stains on his clothes that threatened to settle in and soak like a damn.  The host, leaned in with that smile, polished and practiced, as if she were applying a layer of varnish to a wooden statue, desperate to preserve its sheen.

At least they had that in common.

“James,” she began, her voice a syrupy smoothness designed to draw forth his most heroic narrative, “you’ve been called a beacon of hope. What does that mean to you?”

Just like that, it snaps. The steady thump of his heart that made his throat dry and his Adam’s apple bob at the same tempo suddenly became chill, eerie it was.  His breath steadied and for once in his life he thought ‘Now this is it’ this is what he deserves.  Through all his anxieties and pains and troubles.  This is what it has come to. And he’s as ready as ever to reap whatever he has sowed throughout the grueling 30-plus years of his life.

He opened his mouth, words spilling out like cheap confetti at a parade.  “It’s overwhelming, really. I just did what anyone would do--”

But the sentence unraveled, fraying at the edges like an old carpet, and suddenly the applause faded into a low, throbbing hum.  The studio dissolved into a mess, shadows creeping along metal claustrophobic walls, alarms blaring and sinister.  And for a second, Jimmy was no longer the celebrated hero; he was a specter, adrift in a fog of smoke and screams.  Begging.

What are you gonna do now? The voice echoed inside his head, not as a question but as a proclamation, a truth he had buried beneath the layers of applause and accolades.  His heart raced, started up again--a drum of panic.  The images surged: chaos enveloped him like a shroud, memories clawing their way to the surface.

But like a flame, he snuffed it out with a wet blanket.

“James?” Her voice sliced through his reverie, a lifeline tossed into the storm. The studio reformed around him, but the brightness felt sterile, the applause now a cacophony of knives.  “Are you alright there?”

He blinked, a frantic swimmer gasping for air, trying to surface from the depths of his own psyche.  “Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” he replied, but his voice trembled, its starting to chip.  “It’s just... a lot to take in.  Plus I don’t really have a TV-ready face right now.” his joke fell flat.  Always does, wasn’t much of a ‘joker’.  In fact, wasn’t much of a talker in general.

But still…

The audience erupted again, a hollow chorus of adoration and laughs that only deepened his isolation.  Yet, in the shadows behind the cameras, the specter of his past lurked, whispering secrets he could barely bear through gnawing teeth.

As she moved on to another question, Jimmy felt the weight of the lenses pressing down on him, each one a voyeur probing into his soul, and all he could do was smile.

Right now? the world adored him, but what if they discovered the truth?  What if they caught a glimpse of the fear behind his polished exterior, the jagged edges of his courage?  He steeled himself, the pressure rising, a simmering pot on the verge of boiling over.  He was a lighthouse surrounded by treacherous waters, and each question felt like a wave threatening to sweep him under.

Accolades he deserved piled higher and higher, the tendrils of his past writhed like living things, whispering a truth he wanted desperately to deny:  and it doesn’t feel good, not as good as he wanted, instead it was dreadful, a silent horror that could shatter his carefully constructed image in an instant.  And so he sat, a statue poised for admiration, all while the waves inside raged on, unseen but ever-present, a cruel joke of existence that felt too absurd to bear.

But then another thought dawns on him when he swallows for the umpteenth time.

Who cares?

Really who cares?

And everything is simply washed away, the rubble, the fear, the bile in his throat.

Each question answered with terse efficiency, of course, there were bumps.  Conversation cues memorized and prepackaged like little puzzle pieces he had to remember.  Tetris blocks falling a bit too quickly for his liking but he made do.  That beat started up again and his eyes fluttered, cheeks rosy with each condolence.  Responses made simply to gain.

Love, adoration, awestruck, it didn’t matter anymore.

This was his moment.

So let's indulge.

[blorbobutworse]

Hey guys,,,,guess whos not dead?!

Teen Dad Logan :)

Or, I suppose more accurately, Young Dad Logan. And by adjacency, Uncle Dad Victor.

This turned out to be one of my largest pieces of writing ever Bee-Tee-Dubs so its going to be under this to not Kill You All:

So in this AU they meet when they're 10 and 11, Jimmy just out of foster care after they found out he's a mutant, and Vic a few weeks after murdering his Father.

At first, it's honestly Jimmy showing Victor a lot of things. Simple things, like how to forage and how to scent, but it's all...quiet. Jimmy already carries a sense of shame for his ferocity that Vic never enjoys. So he draws the kid into fights, helps him laugh until his face is red with laughter instead of shame. He learns about him, and in turn Jimmy learns about him. Happy enough kids until things turned south. One was locked up and the other ran away. They escaped and found each other. It was meant to be.

Victor gives him his new name. Jimmy hasn't felt like His in a long time and the first time Vic calls him Logan, he beams.

Vic still calls him Jimmy when he's scared, but it's their little secret.

Anyways, they stay rough and tumble until The developers in the Weapon X project find them, aged 14 and 15 respectively. It's Victor's idea that they stay. Logan, for all his desires to settle down, feels chafed by the military, but Vic sees through that, see's what they could be, in the future. See's him and his Runt living free after serving, what's a few years as lab rats if they get all their adult life? What's being looked at like a monster when he's allowed to be a monster and still get schooling? Logan doesn't think any of these things, but when Vic nods, he does too.

They're only allowed to be together for the first three months, and then their forced apart, to 'reduce codependency'. They last two years without each other, and when they're reunited...things are different.

Creed has grown into his role, with each murder proving that his dad wasn't special, he's always been meant for this, how dare Anyone Try to stop him. He's become an Animal. Sabretooth.

And Wolverine....is Wolverine now. But doesn't take long before Vic realizes somethings wrong. Wolverine glances at him, but there's no glint of recognition in his eyes. As Creed starts to question him, he thinks it's a clone. So he Kills It.

Its only the third time Logan revives and puts his claws through Creeds chest that Creed realizes it's his runt. Still, being forgotten stings, being ignored stings worse, and there's a lot more blood shed before the guards are able to separate the two.

Safe to say they butt heads a lot more. Vic goads him often, word for word the way he used to, and like a house of cards, Wolverine always folds. The only times he seems to come back to himself for a moment, are the moments after Creed's killed him, and he's just waking up. He'll get a look on his face, one Vic recognizes. He's seen it a hundred of times before, even if the runt always tried to hide it:

Fear. Exhaustion.

They never talk. Victor pets his hair as Logan's throat is rapidly sewing itself back together, or Logan rumbling under Vic's body as his puncture wounds close. In those moments, Logan Remembers.

...

It all starts to fall apart when one Logan Howlett, at the fresh age of 18, is chosen to become Weapon X.

Creed sees red. This was HIS goal, His to earn, that stupid brat doesn't even want to be here, Logan doesn't even remember why he's-

He doesn't even remember why he came here in the first place.

But Sabretooth is smart. He figures out when, and where, they're going to do the operation. And obviously, he bursts in.

As he does, he overhears a Commander noting that they should 'wipe wolverines mind clean one last time, to make sure he's only obedient to them.

And that is First Strike.

Victor lashes out, taking down a doctor and a guard before anyone can blink. But his noise distracts the surgeons and other doctors carefully monitoring The Wolverine's Adamantium intake, and one of them nudges their controls in their scramble to get away, pushing significantly more onto his skeleton than originally planned.

Victor stops when he hears screaming.

Logan hears....nothing. He knows the procedure is going to begin, but he doesn't know when. When the burning starts, he goes to that little place in his head he pretends he doesn't have. He sees flashes of Creed's face, snarling and smiling, and he feels...safe. He sees white, and red hair and...hears yelling. His eyes open, and immediately close as salt water rushes into them. He breathes unsteadily through his

The water stops draining but the burning doesn't stop. Worse, his head feels like it's being torn apart, a feeling he remembers but can't name. And suddenly, nothing matters because,

Sabretooth is calling him Jimmy and why why WHY DOES EVERYTHING HURT OW OW OW OW OW OW Victor help please please plEASE PLEASE VICTOR VIC-

...

Safe to say the adamantium causes even more psychological damage to them.

There is one single benefit: The Memory Adjustment failed. In fact, it failed so bad that Creed, for three whole days, get's Logan to himself.

They don't do much. Logan wakes up and launches himself at Vic, legs collapsing as his ligaments struggle to accustom themselves to the weight of his new bones. He's in constant pain, mostly just looking at Vic with big, sad brown eyes until he lies back down with him on the shitty Hospital ordered bed. It creaks under them, but thankfully never gives.

When they do talk, they don't talk about the memories. About Wolverine gutting Sabretooth to prove a point, about Sabretooth biting out his spinal chord, about Wolverine ripping out his teeth in claws. None of it matters. They know it can't last. Creed didn't plan, and Logan is too weak to think, not that he does much of that in the first place.

After those days of clarity post operation, Logan is wiped clean. And for the next year, it's back to normal. For Wolverine at least.

But of course, Logan has to beat him to the punch. Literally.

Around a month after the one year anniversary of his Surgery, Wolverine comes Bursting through the training rooms, with twenty guards hot on his trail. Sabretooth, a Predator, Obviously follows. Logan runs and runs and runs, and eventually rips the door of a particular room, to reveal...

an eerily large room filled with tubes. There's wires and things being suspended in liquid, and at first, Victor can't comprehend what he's looking at. By the time he reads 'X-02', Doner Wolverine, Logan's already broken three of the tubes with his claws, uncaring of the thick glass cutting him open in retribution for being shattered.

people go flying, and as they hit equipment the room itself begins to collapse, separating Sabretooth from Wolverine. Wolverine continues through the rooms, ensuring that there's nothing deeper inside that can help them make more of him. He has enough nightmares. Sabretooth stays back to help finish the job. All those tubes don't destroy themselves, you know?

He finds a room full of his samples, and a woman in a chair. A woman with a bullet in her neck instead of her head. Poor thing had probably gotten caught in between him and the guards. But why was she just sitting-

The woman has a baby in her arms, tubes still attached. He growls for a moment, moving to finishes her off, but freezes when she and she's groans.

"Laura...Laura..."

Logan looks at her little beady eyes, mousy brown hair, and knows...she's his.

Before he's even thought about it she's cradled in his arms, evidently all wrong because she starts to wail and Vic skids in, shoulder denting the doorframe as he stops and stares at the scene in front of him.

The woman gives one final shudder, and her head lulls. Dead.

Still, there's no time to think. Victor hears thuds getting closer to the room, and as he looks to his right he realizes there's only one way out. The window. Oh well.

with a swear, he lifts Logan by the back of his jacket and gives him a shove, and his back goes strait through the paneling and out of the fourth story. Victor whoops, and follows him down. By the time he's already made his much more elegant landing, Logan is groaning and cussing him out as much as his winded lungs will let him, which is a surprising amount. Still, Vic scruffs him again and sets him on his feet, and nods in the direction of the woods.

"Lets go"

And they do.

They end up being surrounded by the X-Men somewhere in Maine and are "Invited" to Stay at Xavier's school. Logan decides for them this time. A house, a promise that the government will be dealt with for them, and that he can get all of his memories back are very good motivators. And they an finish their education.

Victor actually...enjoys classes. He likes being smart, and it's easy. Logan does Charter school. He had lasted exactly a week in public education before deciding that if he had to deal with one more idiotic comment from one of those stupid fucking kids he was going to-

Well. His words were Not Child Friendly, so he made sure to cover his kid's ears. Besides, he's bonded with fellow teen Rogue and preteen Jubilee and Kitty (his daughters) like little sisters, but he never really settles unless he's with his Kid. His Laura.

He had to fight to keep her, a young unstable mutant like him was not the ideal parent, but for the first two months, she sobbed if anyone else held her, terrible screeches, and would reach for him to the point of falling out of peoples arms. And, he had imprinted on her to. He swore he could tell when she was happy or uncomfortable before she could, would burp her or flip her back onto her back before she got fed up with tummy time.

Vic is Terrified of touching her but refuses to admit it. He carefully runs his finger down her pudgy little cheek, in awe of her soft skin against his knuckle, when she moves suddenly, and she attempts to nuzzle her way into his palm. He, obligingly, opens his hand. When one of his claws scrapes her hair, he freezes, waiting for her to cry out. Instead, she burbles happily, honey brown eyes giving him long, slow blinks.

She likes his head scratches the best.

Logan sometimes falls asleep with her on his stomach on the couch, leaving Victor to carry him AND his clingy baby back to bed, the crib next to them so Laura can still grab onto Logans finger. They sleep together now, in a nest of blankets and pillows, Logans hand always off the bed but still somehow still touching Vic, as if to make sure he's still there.

Their codependency is back full swing, and the only time they can be reliably separated is when Vic goes to school, because he goes with Scotty, and the Boy Scout would never let anything happen to another mutant, even if that mutant makes him want to shoot him with his laser-beam full power just to see what would happen.

Thankfully, because of Victors presence, the Mind Adjustment does actually work, but it leaves Logan questioning his parallel memories for years. In the process they realize that...Victors memories have been tampered with too.

But that, is a story for another time.

[hybbart]

*Discreetly slides this fan letter into your mailbox* 

From: Anonymous Fan, 

Address: Ask Box, Tumblr, somewhere on Planet Earth

To: Hybbart

Address: Hybbart's Blog, Tumblr, somewhere on Planet Earth

Date: Today, 

Dear Hybbart,

Hi! I'm just a little anon writing to say thank you so much for your amazing Ranchers Apocalypse AU. I've binged it several times and I plan on doing it again and again. It's given me so much hope for life. I have never experienced anything like it before. Your art is incredible and I could stare at it all day. 

I don't comment on things often, I'm usually one of the silent spectators but I really felt like I needed to give you a thank you.

 I have hated and avoided apocalypse stories because they always felt so hopeless and scary to me but yours is the first I've seen that's not hopeless. Thank you so much for the new perspective of an apocalypse story. Now I love them. If an actual apocalypse happened I hope I am one of the ones, like the Ranchers, that don't give up and keep pressing on even in the hard and seemingly dark times. Not only to just survive but to thrive. To keep holding on to hope for a better tomorrow. Rain or shine, bring it on. It's almost like the Ranchers are giving life a middle finger lol. Like, Gosh dang it life, you want us dead, oh heck no we will live and not only will we live but to really add insult to injury we are choosing to thrive.

I love how the story is almost like Polaroid photos with little notes at the bottom of each; it feels a bit like a scrapbook documenting important moments in the story which is cool. It's so unique and it's nothing like I've ever seen before. It's incredible.

My goodness, the way that you draw characters so expressive and dynamic with their poses and the amount of details in the background. It's absolutely captivating. I love studying and admiring each picture.

Your art and stories are inspiring and healing. I fully believe that people's worlds will be flipped on their heads for the better when they experience the stories and art that you create. You flipped my world. Please don't stop creating. The world needs what you have to give. 

Once more thank you for the incredible story, I can't imagine how much time you spent on it. The love you have for the AU really shines through your work. You are an inspiration. 

I look forward to what comes next in the RAAU, rain or shine, bring it on.

Sincerely,

- Anonymous Fan <3 <3 <3

P.S Also a song rec that I think is really neat and hope you think is neat too: 

Owl City's Bird with a Broken Wing.

It makes me think of Jimmy after the apocalypse started but before Tango found him. 

P.P.S if you are reading this, thanks so much for reading this long letter. Lol.

Thank you very much! I think you might enjoy two series, called yokohama shopping log and Zom 100: bucketlist of the dead. Yokohama shopping log is a very lovely slice of life healing series about the twilight of the world and the people who've accepted it and decided to live the best they can, including robots. Zom 100 is about a man so beaten down by modern work culture the apocalypse sets him free and gives him and everyone around him the opportunity to be human and enjoy life again. They're both series about human compassion and small joys in the end times, and big influences on raau.

And that reminds me! I've been work on raau for over a full year now! It's crazy to me, I hope to work on it again soon.

[thetomorrowshow]

for a light

okay I PROMISE that comfort is coming I PROMISE

~

Scott stares Xornoth down from across the plateau, wind whipping the demon's hair and robes, black streaking out from him like some decaying flag.

They're alone, just the two of them, so far away (ndisu ndikitá'ána).

He's here.

It's time.

He sets the crown of antlers upon his head.

His fingers tighten on the thin grip of his sword.

-

Scott hisses as his finger bumps the pot, drops his hold and sticks the finger in his mouth. He was just trying to shift it to settle it better in the coals. Stupid cloth slipping.

Right. There's literally snow right there.

Scott removes his finger from his mouth, digs it into the snow beside him. The burn cools, eventually going numb.

That's one upside to living in a permanent winter. There's snow everywhere.

This little clearing in the woods that he took used to have a tent pitched in the center, grass and trees and wildflowers all around.

The tent is long gone, having collapsed under the weight of the snow and ice that collected upon it. Scott replaced it with an ice hut of sorts, which he thinks he created while asleep because he's not exactly sure how he did it. It's kind of ugly, but it has four walls and a roof and a little hole for a door, and it works.

The grass and plants aren't really visible anymore, the ground covered in a thick blanket of snow. Scott's not sure how, but someone had managed to get him a good pair of elven work boots, insulated and sturdy, so that he can tromp through the six or seven inches of snow without much issue. He's cold, this old, patched coat not quite enough to block out the chill, but the gloves keep his fingers from feeling too much like ice and the hand-knit hat prevents a majority of the headaches that his frozen ears cause. He's not too badly off, to be honest. There's just so much . . . cold.

And if he could get it to melt, that would be great.

He can make ice and snow appear just fine. There's plenty of snow, and he can point and ice spikes will shoot up out of the ground, and he can picture a cube of ice and watch as it forms in front of him, but that just means that now he has a little pile of ice cubes and a ludicrous amount of spikes the size of a tree. He can't get rid of anything.

And sure, he has a modicum of control. He can form ice cubes, and spikes, or whatever. But he can't turn off the way ice and snow just grows around him, or the freeze that blasts from him when he waves his arms.

He's been here for two weeks, figuring absolutely nothing out, and he doesn't have much hope for the future.

It feels like there's a wall in his head, a literal barrier keeping him from finding the way to draw back the ice. He's spent hours, days, even, pushing and shoving and just sitting against this wall, trying to force it to work.

It won't give. It's exhausting, day-in and day-out, to try again and again and again as the ice and snow just build up around him.

"Scott!"

Jimmy.

They haven't really . . . talked. Of course, Jimmy turns up every day without fail, bringing with him food and supplies. He always stands on the fringe of the clearing, shares news of the camp, of their latest excursion, of the fight they have planned.

Scott never really says much. He doesn't know how to respond, and Jimmy always leaves with his shoulders sagging the slightest bit.

What is he supposed to say?

I mourned you. I cried for you every day, because I knew I'd never see you again. I attended your funeral. I comforted your sister. I wore a depressing mimicry of what we once wore together, covering myself in the same darkness that took you. I lost you.

You didn't die, you survived, and I still lost you.

How is he supposed to tell Jimmy that what hurts more than anything about this situation is that he never tried to disabuse Scott of the notion that he was dead?

He thinks he still loves Jimmy. Their hearts were made for each other. They've been through too much together to just let go of everything they had.

But there were forty-two of the worst days of Scott's life, in which Scott believed his betrothed to be dead. He can't forget that. He can't pretend that Jimmy even attempted to contact him.

His mind always returns to that. Why didn't he? What reasons has he given, other than his ominous “it wasn't time yet”? Why?

And now they're here, in this horribly awkward phase where they haven't even discussed whether or not they're still an item (Scott's desperately in love with Jimmy but he isn't sure he can even stand to see him it hurts so much) or if that's even something they want to pursue right now (Scott wants so badly just to hold his hand but he can't let himself hurt Jimmy).

"Hey, Scott!"

Scott straightens (his wings shudder under the weight of the ice coating them, but none of it cracks), shakes the snow off his hands, and turns, stomach twisting.

Jimmy is standing there, a good ten feet away, leaning out from between the trees. 

It's just Jimmy. Hair still too long, beard still obstinately there, an anxious smile on his pockmarked face.

Doesn't he have anything better to do, rather than visit Scott every day?

Jimmy holds up a bundle of cloth.

"I brought some bread and . . . venison, I think? I forgot to ask what it was. Does that sound good?"

Scott tugs his scarf up a bit higher on his cheeks. "Sounds fine," he calls back, voice muffled by the fabric.

Jimmy tosses it; Scott catches the bundle, grimaces when it frosts over the moment it touches his hands.

"What are you cooking?" Jimmy asks, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Scott glances back at his little pot on the dying coals.

"Just porridge," he says. That's all Jimmy gave him yesterday, after all. The grain for whatever chunky porridge it is that they eat at the camp all the time.

"That's . . . that's cool," says Jimmy. Dear Aeor, he looks so unbearably awkward. What does he want?

Thankfully, Jimmy gets straight to the point, no more hobbling around small talk.

"We're going on a mission," he says, the words coming out in puffs of frozen air. "There's a village about a day's walk from here, the largest we've gone for yet. They're going to be a huge asset to our rebellion."

Scott nods a couple of times. "Okay. How long until you're back?"

Jimmy chews on his lip—the way he always does when he's anxious, or isn't sure how to approach a problem. "That's . . . well, I wanted to see if you would come, actually."

It takes Scott a few seconds to process that, but when he does, he almost laughs out loud.

He's out of his mind if he thinks Scott will risk something like that. He can't control this! He's had to separate himself from the rest of the camp because there's a ten foot radius of winter wonderland that appears around him!

He has to be joking.

"You have to be joking," Scott says.

Jimmy shrugs. "I talked about it with the others that are coming on the mission, and they're all fine with it. If it makes you feel better—"

"No, I'm dangerous—"

"—we can walk apart from you, and—"

"—you don't understand, I hurt Gem, I'll—"

"—was just thinking that it can't be good for you to—"

"Jimmy, I said no!"

And childishly, to emphasize his point, Scott stamps his foot.

Ice crackles along the ground like a whip, shooting up in little spikes, a ten-inch wall down the middle of his little clearing.

It stops just short of Jimmy, the last little spike rising just inches from his boots, and Scott almost wants to go and shove him out of the way because Jimmy doesn't even move!

Doesn't he have any sense of self-preservation?

Jimmy doesn't seem scared when he looks up at Scott. He just seems sad.

"That's why I can't," Scott bites out, wrapping his arms around himself. His scarf is slipping, nose exposed to the cold. "I'm not safe. I don't want to hurt someone."

"Okay. Can I explain myself, though?"

Before Scott can give an answer, Jimmy takes a small step forward, boot crunching on snow.

Scott takes a step back.

"We know how to keep ourselves safe," he says. "Most of the people here escaped terrible conditions where one wrong move could kill them. They know how to recognize threats and keep a safe distance. It wouldn't even be an issue to travel with you."

Scott wants to argue, but Jimmy takes another step. Scott quickly steps back, swallowing down the fear that rises in his throat, burning like bile.

"We would travel kind of separately, and it wouldn't even be a long journey. Two days at most, I think. So the main group would stick together, and you would stay within sight off to the side. We usually move quietly, so you wouldn't miss out on conversation or anything."

Okay, that's probably what Scott would do if they were forced to travel. He's pretty sure that he can cause ice issues outside of the ten foot radius, if he tries, but it doesn't automatically happen. Travel plans like that might actually work.

Which doesn't mean they're good. They aren't. They just might work.

"This village has a lot of soldiers, from what we can tell. Way more than there ought to be. They're beginning to figure out our game. We usually wouldn't go for someplace so risky, but there's so many people there. If we freed them, we could easily add two hundred to our able fighters."

Is Jimmy stupid?

"It's a trap," Scott says, pointing out what seems obvious. "Why would they have so many Mythlanders there if not to wait for you?"

Jimmy scoffs. "We know it's a trap," he says. "That's why we want you. We want to avoid fights if possible—and if you were there, we would have a really decent chance of getting in and out without losing anyone."

"You're forgetting that I can't really control this," Scott says icily, and as if to match his tone, it spontaneously begins to snow. "I'm just as likely to hurt one of you."

"We just need you to make it as cold as possible. The Cod will survive—we're pretty good with cold temperatures. But humans are a bit more sensitive to that kind of thing. So we thought—if you could freeze over the village, then all the guards would go inside and we could sneak everyone out!"

That. . . .

That is a monumentally idiotic plan.

Scott blinks several times, just to make sure it really is Jimmy in front of him and not some hallucination induced by so much time alone.

"Or we could not do that," he says. "Just a suggestion."

Jimmy laughs a little. "I kind of figured you'd say that," he says. "But it's worth a shot, right? And if it doesn't work, we can go back to camp and figure out something else. No harm done, right?"

"Other than the possible harm that my very presence could cause," Scott says. "Do you really think that staying ten feet away while traveling would work? Just because that's my snowglobe radius doesn't mean anyone is safe outside of it."

He re-crosses his arms, waits for Jimmy to meet his eyes.

Jimmy's quiet for a long time, looking around at the unintentional ice spikes and piles of snow. Long enough that Scott turns away, tosses the sack from Jimmy into his ice hut.

That's that, then. He and Jimmy aren't going to talk about any of their real issues. Jimmy's so focused on this inconsequential rebellion of his that he won't even think about the fact that Xornoth may be controlling the world by now. Gem might be dead—literally any of them could be dead, Lizzie or Shubble or Joel all could have fallen—and Xornoth has control of half of the empires or all of them. And the only way to stop him didn't work.

Yet all Jimmy will even give thought to is his stupid little rebellion.

"I know it's hard," Jimmy says, voice awkwardly too-loud, rousing Scott from his thoughts. "It's really, really hard. I know that you don't trust yourself, and that you're hurting, and there's so much tangled up between us that I don't really understand but I know isn't making any of this easier for you. But I know you want to get better. I know you, Scott. And I know you will do everything in your power to keep those people safe."

Scott doesn't say anything, blinks back the sudden tears. He doesn't need this. He doesn't need Jimmy telling him what he feels.

Even if he's right.

He would do everything to keep the others safe.

He just can't guarantee that it would work.

"I trust you," Jimmy says firmly. "We trust you. I wouldn't have even brought it up if I hadn't cleared it with everyone else. And if it doesn't work, I'll never ask you to do it again. But please, Scott. If not for the people suffering, do it for me."

He doesn't owe Jimmy anything.

As a ruler, he pledged to defend his people, and he failed. What about when he fails again? Will he even be able to live with himself?

Will he be able to live with himself if he doesn't try?

In the grand scheme of things, a rebel attack to evacuate citizens of a small town in the Codlands is absolutely nothing. It will likely not contribute at all to the ending of the war.

But it's somewhere to start. Jimmy's always talking about how if they're still alive after everything, they ought to be doing something good with it. If he wants to eventually try to launch some sort of hopeless attack on Xornoth, he has to start somewhere. He has to figure this ice stuff out.

"Okay," he says eventually, reluctantly. "I don't . . . I don't want to. I don't think it will go well."

"If you can't trust yourself, you can trust me," offers Jimmy, and Scott grimaces at the hope in his voice.

He doesn't respond. 

He wants to trust Jimmy. He wishes nothing had ever broken the trust that was there.

He isn't sure what did break it. He can't exactly blame Jimmy for not dying.

"I'll come get you tomorrow around midmorning, okay? We're hoping to arrive when it's dark the next day, then just have you freeze it overnight and get the Cod out before sunrise. Sound good?"

Scott shrugs. "It's your plan," he says. "Does it sound good to you?"

Jimmy doesn't respond, glancing over his shoulder. "I need to go finish prepping," he says when he turns back. "Take care. I . . . I'll see you tomorrow."

Scott doesn't move (frozen to the spot, he thinks idly), just watches Jimmy go, picking his way back between the trees.

What has he agreed to?

-

The journey goes exactly as Jimmy had laid out. Jimmy travels in a band of thirty-two people (Scott counts them during one of their fifteen minute rests), all able young Cod, some with cobbled-together armor or swords, others with nothing but the clothes on their back and improvised weapons. Scott sees two hand-made slings, one little hunting bow, and a couple of large branches shaped into clubs. All from afar, of course.

Scott walks a good thirty or forty feet away from the group, shying away whenever someone accidentally veers a little close. They always hurry back to the others, shivering and rubbing their arms.

Jimmy, of course, comes close on purpose. He keeps trailing along on the edges of the group, giving Scott terribly hopeful glances.

Scott just keeps his eyes on the snowy ground before him and wishes he could figure out how to talk to him.

Does he even want to talk to him?

Of course he does. Of course he wants to talk to his . . . to Jimmy.

He just can't. He can't risk hurting him. He can't risk getting hurt.

And soon enough, they've arrived at the town.

Scott has somehow managed to avoid hurting anyone, though one Cod only narrowly avoids getting stabbed by a flying ice spike when Scott gets startled by a bee.

He isn't sure how powerful he is, just that he's managed to tie it down and lash it to himself. But Scott, more often than not, feels like there's a thin door being battered and blown by a terrible snowstorm, ice seeping in through the cracks, and soon enough he'll have to try to open the door just a little bit. He can only imagine it blasting it open and sending bursts of unstoppable power out, forever unable to be closed.

Jimmy approaches him as Scott finishes up eating a cold supper, and even though it's dark Scott knows it's Jimmy because he knows Jimmy, he knows his habits and his tendencies and just weeks ago that had been painful, precious knowledge and now it means nothing significant.

"We're about ready," Jimmy says, not looking at Scott. He's looking out over the ridge that they're hidden behind, toward the town below. Scott wants to shake him, scream at him, drag him down to the ground. Doesn't he know he'll be seen? That his outline against the darkening sky will be obstinately visible?

"I'll take you down there in about a half hour. Then you just need to drop the temperatures to about freezing, all right? We'll do everything from there."

Scott doesn't answer. He doesn't have anything to say.

You left me you died to me I lost you and you were here. You were here this whole time and I've been hurting, and I'm still hurting and you just don't care. Why didn't you comfort me? Why aren't you helping me? Why won't you listen to everything I can't say?

Jimmy doesn't say anything, either, despite Scott's silent cries. He just stands there awkwardly, then gives Scott a nod and jogs back over to the main group.

Scott flexes his fingers in their gloves, blows on his hands, relishes the momentary warmth that brings him. He's always so cold these days. For good reason, of course—and despite all that, elves naturally run colder than humans, with the climate of their dwelling—, but he doesn't have to like it.

How is he meant to freeze an entire town without accidentally doing more damage than intended?

At this point, Scott has absolutely zero doubt that he'll be able to freeze the town. Piece of cake. The problem is drawing back the power after it's been extended.

It doesn't help that he doesn't know what he's doing. It doesn't help that all he's done for the past two weeks is try to not explode. He hasn't actually learned anything about control, or using the magic to his advantage.

And now he has to save a town. Use this untamable magic in moderation.

He's going to fail so badly.

And yet, when Jimmy returns not long later, Scott readjusts the little knapsack that hangs off his shoulder and sets off around the ridge, following Jimmy from a safe distance.

They skirt around their little camp on the side of the ridge, giving the refugees a wide berth so as to avoid getting any of them mixed up in Scott's personal snowstorm. That wouldn't help anything about this situation.

The ice hasn't been unfreezing behind him, either. That's been kind of concerning. He'd assumed, back in his little patch of the forest, that the ice hadn't gone away because he hadn't gone away. But now there's just a path of frost and snow through the long grasses of the outer Codlands, a trail leading directly to the rebel camp.

Scott really hopes it melts with time. It wouldn't be good to have one of fWhip's flying fish spies follow it and discover the camp.

He gets pulled from his thoughts by necessity as they approach the town, Jimmy making sure to keep them to the shadows, out of range of the torchlight from the perimeter guards. They crouch down behind some bushes (Jimmy beckons Scott closer, miming something about talking, and Scott reluctantly settles down close enough beside him—about five feet away, the closest to anyone he's been in weeks), peering between the brambles. Sure enough, there's more guards than a small border town ought to have—Scott counts at least four that patrol by the edge of town in the five minutes that they sit there and watch.

"We need to give my people a few more minutes, probably," Jimmy whispers, glancing up at the sky. The moon hasn't risen yet, so Scott's really not sure what he's checking. "But if you want to start the freeze, you can."

Right. Freezing an entire town.

Scott reaches inside himself for . . . for something. He isn't sure what. It's not like there's anything in there. Just his aching heart.

He legitimately feels fatigued from holding back the magic the best he can, but he doesn't know how to let go. He doesn't have any sort of point of reference for this. What is he supposed to do?

After several long minutes of indecision, of pulling at different parts of his mind to see if something just releases the switch, Scott gives up on figuring it out and just pushes.

He's not sure if the dam is broken, but a little flurry of snowflakes shoots out of his hands and he imagines the town, water in barrels and canals slowly freezing over, the temperatures dropping, the night air becoming frigid and biting.

Why does it have to be him?

"Nice," Jimmy whispers beside him. Scott blinks, looks up.

It's snowing. All across the town is snowing.

He didn't mean to make it snow. He only wanted to make it cold.

And it is cold. His fingers through their gloves are aching, the exposed skin on his face burns as a gust of freezing wind blows past.

"Was that too much?" he whispers, twisting his hands together. "I didn't mean for—"

Jimmy breathes out a near-silent laugh, gives him a grin. "I knew you could do it. I knew it!"

He made Jimmy happy.

Despite all the confusing hurt keeping them apart, that still makes Scott's heart squeeze in the best way possible.

The guards glance around at the fat flakes of snow, clearly confused. There's some shouting person to person, and within torchlight on the edge of town, a cluster of guards gather, rubbing their hands together and stamping their feet and pointing back to the center of town as they talk.

There's no way this will work. If his guards at Rivendell left their posts because it got a little cold, they would be in severe trouble with their captain.

But as Scott watches, one by one, the guards begin to trail away, heading toward what Scott assumes to be the inn.

There's no way. There's no way this is actually working. This can't be real.

Jimmy takes in a near-silent breath, lets it out in a low, loud, whoop/whistle. It sounds strikingly like the call of an owl that Scott has heard occasionally in these parts, late at night.

When did Jimmy learn bird calls?

It's a small thing. It's not even anything that matters. It's tiny and unimportant and Scott really shouldn't be close to tears right now.

It's like he doesn't even know Jimmy. He doesn't want to be upset, but he can't seem to stop it.

Jimmy still loves him and wants him; Jimmy wants them to be in love again.

How is it so hard?

Every guard has gone inside now, the town quiet.

The snow continues to fall, slow, drifting gently onto a peaceful street, becoming a picturesque winter scene.

Yet staring at it doesn't bring Scott peace. He only grows more and more anxious, eyes scanning from point to point, as though he might miss the operation entirely if he only watches the snow.

And after five or so minutes of waiting, Scott sees, past the falling snow, camouflaged people stealing through the streets, peering in windows, tapping lightly on doors.

The Cod residents are quick and quiet to answer, which is absolutely absurd.

It's actually working.

The other day, this was the most ridiculous plan Scott had ever heard. He never would have believed that any part of it would actually come to any sort of fruition.

And here they are.

He continues to watch as entire families sneak out of houses, glancing left and right before stepping out into the street, some bundled up in layers of clothing and others with nothing but a thin tunic protecting them from the weather.

The rebels move in phases, ushering out first this side street, then that one, making sure each sector of the town doesn't leave without instruction.

Scott watches, and something within him marvels.

This is the work. This had seemed so inconsequential to him just days ago—there are much larger things to worry about, after all—but now he can see how this had become Jimmy's whole world.

There's so many of them. They're moving house-by-house, sending one group before beckoning the next, but the streets are still close to packed.

There's a woman, hands covering her mouth as tears stream down her face, following a group into an alley. A shirtless man, carrying two children at once, his shirt draped over the both of them. A child—a tiny slip of a girl, surely not older than eight, clinging to her parent's leg, the torchlight from the abandoned guard posts illuminating her face just enough that Scott can see a hand-shaped bruise spanning her cheek.

The people are malnourished, injured, terrified. They’ve been desperately praying that someone will rescue them, someone will come along and deliver them from this darkness.

And here Jimmy is, a shining light, their once-dead king returned to save them specifically, as unimportant as they feel they are.

It makes sense. Jimmy's forces aren't strong enough to take on Xornoth, so why should he even focus on something so unattainable?

This, while not easy, is doable, and something that both strengthens his numbers and helps his people.

Scott gets it. It's about hope. It's about remembering the lost. It's about finding strength and life in this world of corruption.

"Scott," Jimmy whispers, pulling him from his realization.

Scott blinks, looks over at him. Jimmy's teeth are chattering, his nose pink, his lips pale of color. His arms are clutched around himself, doing nothing to hide the way his entire body trembles.

"You can reel it back in, a bit," Jimmy says, clearly going for humor, but the words fall flat when his lips can't even twitch up in some semblance of a smile.

Oh.

Scott looks back to the town, and now, he doesn't just see the wonder of it all. He sees how slowly everyone is moving, the way the rebels look up fearfully at the quickening snow, the way none of them are wearing any proper winter gear.

It's cold out. It's very, very cold out. It's definitely far below freezing, icicles already hanging from buildings, a thick layer of snow blanketing the ground.

It's too cold. He sees, all at once, three children collapse, and their caretakers pick them up but can barely keep going.

It's too much. It's too cold, so cold that a man stumbles and falls, and those around him are too cold to stop and help.

"Scott, make it stop," Jimmy whispers with increasing urgency. "It's too cold. Scott, stop."

He can't stop.

The door has been opened, and Scott doesn't know how to close it.

He can't make it warm up, he can't even stop it from getting colder. The night sky is growing steadily darker as more clouds roll in, the snow falling harder and faster—there's actual ice spreading, visibly spreading, crawling out from the bushes where he and Jimmy are crouched, heading toward the town and Scott can't stop it—

"Scott—"

"I can't stop it," breathes Scott, and it's nothing but the truth. He can't just turn it off, that isn't something he knows how to do—he doesn't know how to do anything, this is a curse and he hates it and nothing will ever be right again!

"I can't stop it," he says again, louder, voice shaking. "I can't—I can't do it, I told you I can't, I don't know how—"

"Just try," Jimmy says over him, hands held up. "I know you can do it, I trust you—"

"Just—just stop!" Scott bursts out, finally, all those terrible emotions rising to his tongue. "You keep saying—you keep—you were dead, you left me and you don't get to—you can't tell me what I can and can't do, I don't—"

"Scott," Jimmy says, something horribly placating in his voice, and it sounds just like the old Jimmy, just like the one who died—

Scott stumbles up, backing away from Jimmy. He can't—he doesn't want—this is all too much, too much, he's ruined everything and it's too much—

Jimmy stands as well, taking a couple of steps toward him. "Scott, I'm going to touch you, okay?"

"No!" Scott bites out. The wind is whistling in his ears, he can barely hear Jimmy over it—he can barely see Jimmy through the snow, there's so much of it, and Scott can't make it stop! He can't fix this! "Don't touch me, I don't—I don't even know you, I'll hurt you!"

"Scott—"

"Get—away—" Jimmy's just coming closer, one step at a time, and Scott doesn't want him, that's not his Jimmy, he doesn't want to hurt him—

The storm is rapidly getting worse, the snow beating down on his face with little pellets of ice, he had never meant to make it snow let alone storm, he's cursed, he's forever cursed, there's no way he can make things right, there's no way anything will ever be right again—!

And then there are arms around him.

Jimmy squeezes him tightly, good pressure and tightly enough that his brain is forced to settle into a more peaceful state, despite his surroundings.

His lover is warm against him, and Scott instinctively buries his face in the crook of Jimmy's shoulder where it belongs and perfectly fits.

Something inside doesn't really click into place. It doesn't quite work. It's close, but it's just not where it needs to be.

But it does slide together nicely, and Scott somehow finds a slippery grasp on the cold and tugs it back in.

He hadn't even been able to have this before. He hadn't even been able to feel a way to control it, let alone actually take hold.

But there's some kind of power positively radiating from Jimmy, something that Scott can feel and recognize in this entirely new world of magic that he never even knew existed.

It's got to be Jimmy's love.

Jimmy loves him so so much that it overpowers the curse.

And Scott, for the first time in weeks, feels warm.

He feels warm. Jimmy's here, his arms wrapped around Scott, and he feels warm.

A sob rises in his chest.

This is his Jimmy.

His Jimmy is holding him, and loves him, and is so very warm.

"There we go," Jimmy whispers into his hair, voice slightly muffled. "Not too much, now.  We still need a little bit of snow coming down."

Right.

Scott doesn't think he has the emotional capacity to pay attention to anything but Jimmy, but he loosens his grip on the ice just a little, enough that the snow doesn't stop.

The sob bursts out of his mouth, and Scott clutches Jimmy as close to him as possible.

His Jimmy is here. He's actually here.

And Scott can feel his fingers again, warmth washing over every part of his body.

They don't move for a long time. Jimmy watches the exodus over his shoulder as Scott cries into his chest, letting all of the emotions that he's been feeling for the past two months pour out onto Jimmy's coat.

They stand there, and Scott sobs.

After too long, long enough that the tears on Scott's face become more sticky than wet (they aren't freezing on his cheeks, like they've been doing, and isn't that just a miracle), Jimmy pulls away.

Scott feels his tenuous control slip from his grasp—too cold again, too cold—and he launches himself back into Jimmy's arms.

"Don't go," he chokes out.

"Okay."

"Please . . . I can't—I can't do this without you."

"Okay."

Scott takes in a shuddering breath. He's stronger than this. He can do this.

"Do you think you can stop the snow?"

Scott nods, his nose wiping across Jimmy's coat. Then, with a mustering of what little strength he has, he shuts that imaginary door.

It almost doesn't shut. Scott strains against it in his mind, inch by inch, but eventually it clicks shut.

He can't lock it. But holding to Jimmy keeps it shut, and Scott doesn't plan on letting go.

Jimmy's right here.

Jimmy is real.

He's alive.

"You died," Scott sniffles, tears burning at the corners of his eyes. "You died!"

"I know," Jimmy murmurs, sounding absolutely heartbroken. "I know. I'm here."

"You weren't there, though. You—you left me! I was so—so alone!"

"I know," Jimmy says again. "I'm so sorry, Scott. I'm so sorry."

Jimmy's crying too, Scott realizes. They're in snow up to their knees, in full view of the town, and they're both just standing here crying.

Scott. . . .

Scott doesn't really care.

His heart, broken by the weight of the grief hanging so heavily on it, is finally beginning to heal.

That's more important than anything else around.

-

Scott doesn't let go of Jimmy's hand the entire trip back.

They walk back to the camp, bringing up the rear of a long crowd of refugees. Scott's trail of frost is barely-there, and he never feels like he's a danger to anyone while Jimmy is at his side.

They arrive back at the camp almost three days later, the group slower-moving with the addition of a good three hundred people. The camp is thrown into chaos, more than doubled in size, and Jimmy's pulled every which way by every person possible as they try to make arrangements and adjustments on such a large scale.

Scott stays with him through it all. He presses himself into Jimmy's side during a hurried meeting about leadership for splitting into several camps; he clings to him while Jimmy directs new refugees to food; he holds his hand through long hours of pointing people this way and that.

Jimmy doesn't end up being forced to bed until past midnight, a young Cod practically pushing him and Scott to his tent. Jimmy goes reluctantly, walk stumbling and eyes bloodshot. Scott can't imagine that he looks any better—he can feel how oily his hair is, limp after being literally frozen for so long, his wings unkempt and dragging. He can barely stay upright, and relief floods him when they finally reach Jimmy's tent.

Jimmy collapses onto his bedroll without even taking off his boots or unbuckling the enchanted sword on his back, and Scott is just able to manage loosening the laces of his own boots and kicking them off before he falls down beside him.

"There's still so much to do," mumbles Jimmy, and instinctively, they wrap around each other, knees slotting perfectly and arms weaving just right.

It's like nothing changed.

It's like everything is right again.

"I missed you," Scott whispers, though his throat threatens to choke on the words.

He lost Jimmy. Forty-two days of mourning, of the worst torture he's ever been subjected to.

He lost him, and it still hurts. Everything still feels so terribly hopeless, so dark, and Jimmy forsook him for so long.

But he's back. He's here, and alive, and through his thin tunic under the hilt of the sword Scott can feel a new scar just below the nape of his neck (Jimmy shudders as his fingers trace it, but doesn't pull away) but he's alive and in Scott's arms.

He died. Jimmy died, and it must have been terribly traumatic for him in ways that Scott hasn't even considered.

But by some miracle, he's here. He's okay.

He is, isn't he?

"Are you all right?" Scott asks quietly, seized by the need to know that his love is well. He doesn't know the specifics, not really—but Jimmy said he'd been stabbed several times, and that can't have been easy to recover from—and Scott had made it awfully cold earlier, and he knows that some of the refugees suffered because of it, and Jimmy only had that thin coat on.

Jimmy doesn't respond, though, breathing slow and even, and Scott eventually relaxes, assuming that he's asleep. He can get his answer tomorrow, after all. He can fuss over him all he wants.

Scott honestly can't believe that he let himself drift so far from Jimmy. He let his feelings of abandonment and despair and everything else get in the way of being here, holding his beloved, giving him comfort and receiving it in bucketloads.

He was so wrapped up in losing Jimmy the first time, he almost lost him again.

Then Jimmy shifts in his arms, sighs a little bit. "I'm okay," he finally replies. "That's what you asked, right?"

Scott nods against his shoulder, and Jimmy lets out a low chuckle. "My good ear is pressed to the pillow, sorry," he says by way of explanation. "Couldn't quite hear you. Are you okay?"

Is he okay?

He's not physically injured. And he's not quite so cold—with Jimmy's love warming him, he can keep a lid on the ice magic, stopping it from spreading beyond his fingertips.

Everything about this situation still hurts. Everything's still so terrible, and there's no way to overcome it.

But Jimmy's here now, and he loves Scott.

And Scott loves him.

"I'm all right," he says eventually, before burying his face deeper into Jimmy's shoulder.

And he thinks, for the moment, that it's true.

-

Scott dreams that night.

He dreams of a plateau, ice, wind whipping dark robes every which way.

He dreams of his hand tightening around a sword hilt.

He dreams of a crown upon his head.

Inka kuuna ndikitá'ána.

-

It's just barely past dawn, and a young girl with mousy brown hair and scales smattered across her face like freckles is wandering down to the river to collect water.

It's a bit of a long walk, but Lithi doesn't mind—it's preferable to the walk back, when the empty waterskin strapped to her back will be filled with water.

She's a girl forced to grow up too fast, barely in her teens, yet made to take up her mother's armor and flee into exile.

But she doesn't cry. Lithi never cries, and it's a point of pride for her. Her peers seem to be constantly crying, after all. She isn't going to let herself be perceived as a weak little girl. Not after everything her people have been through.

The ground beneath her bare feet becomes squishy, pockmarked with little puddles of water, and she veers right. Her course has taken her too near the slow, swampy portion of the river, and while she longs to go splash about in the swamp, she knows that the water there isn't clear enough to use back at camp. Not to mention, the Codfather wants them to avoid the swamps, for some reason.

She misses the marshes of home. They all do—Cod aren't made to spend all their lives on land.

She knows the swamp misses them, too.

And that reminds her of the folk song that her mother taught her, and her mother's parents taught her, and their parents taught them.

So, while the girl walks, she sings.

The sun is brighting,

Children, come home!

The grass is sighing,

Children, come home!

Where the water's dark and deep

There her children will find sleep

The marsh is calling,

Children, come home!

The frogs are croaking,

Children, come home!

The critters woken,

Children, come home!

Where the water's dark and deep

There her children will find sleep

The marsh is calling,

Children, come home!

The birds are singing,

Children, come home!

The trees are ringing

Children, come home!

Where the water's dark and deep

There her children will find sleep

The marsh is calling,

Children, come home!

The fries are playing,

Children, come home!

The wind is saying,

Children, come home!

Where the water's dark and deep

There her children will find sleep

The marsh is calling,

Children, come home!

The marsh is calling,

Children, come home!

The night is falling,

Children, come home!

Where the water's dark and deep

There her children will find sleep

The marsh is crying,

Children, come home!

She reaches the riverbank as the song comes to a close, singing the last line over and over again, in a myriad of styles and keys.

She shrugs the waterskin off her shoulders, clumsily dips it into the water. The riverbank is uncomfortably dry and sandy between her toes, which long for the mud of home.

Why can't they go to the swamp? Not that she would ever rebel against their Codfather, but she just wants to feel at peace again.

The waterskin isn't totally full, but she draws it up out of the water and ties it closed, arms shaking, straining to hold it up. And now she has to make the long walk back to camp with this heavy load, the leather straps cutting into her shoulder blades with every step.

So maybe she dawdles by the river. Maybe she dips her fingers into the water, swishes it around.

It's that distraction, perhaps, that changes everything.

Because had Lithi not lingered, she wouldn't have seen the glimpse of bright green caught under a rock in the water. She wouldn't have levied up the rock, pulled loose the thing. She wouldn't have held up the sodden leather bag, beautifully embroidered with a bright green cod and a sky blue stag.

And most importantly of all, she wouldn't have opened the bag to find a thin, Oceanic book, nor caught a glimpse of gold shimmering in the silty mud beneath where the bag had lain.

[dailyranchers]

Hello every nyan,

This is the Daily Rancher blog, here is where I post rancher art everyday (hoping)

I will mostly draw simple drawings like doodles (sometimes traditional art too but hopefully just digital!) doodles, shitpost, memes screenshots likes almost everything!

Feel free to send me any requests you want for ranchers!

You can also ask for specific shitposts that you think suits them well, you are all free to just send memes for me to draw as the silly guys, or Outfits and costumes UGHAA ANYTHING REALLY !!!!

and if you have any questions and want me to say something about for example my hcs for ranchers then don't be afraid to send a ask in my inbox on my main blog !!

even if dont answer all your asks, remember I appreciate you all for giving so much support <3

Even though I want all art to appear platonic so most people can enjoy it, I will sometimes draw them in a romantic way, as I love them as a ship too. I will tag it properly though as trafficshipping and with their ship name solidaritek!!!

My main blog is: @XattenQ

And I use any Pronouns!!! ( any means any I rn I don't prefer any of them :P)

Main tag: #daily ranchers

I wont tag replies to asks cause I'm very lazy

i will use a day count by putting it at the top like for example:

[ 34 ]

Im not very experienced on tumblr as I escaped from prison and now need a new home to live in

I'm a minor and won't draw anything weird and shit so please don't send me weird stuff in my inbox , just be a descent human <3

, and I won't draw anything gory, or very heavy mechanical like robots and stuff. I'm also not a fan of backgrounds or difficult time consuming backgrounds

I will insert my own lil hc of these two, like for example cheetah tango and golden retriever Jimmy as I find cat and dog dynamics very cute and it just fits <3

[mayusteapot]

I don't know what the rest of you think but I feel like Uncle Jimmy is living his best life. I'd much rather dance around a fire in an old orchard reciting poems and stories in a beard and a jumper than "stand in the presence of kings". Instead of bowing to them he has his own fairy kingdom. I guess Emily might mean that might have been more consistently creative and would have written down his work and been more presentable to the world had he not hit his head. But it seems Uncle Jimmy already is plenty happy. He has a home, money to spend and spare, a garden and grounds to tend. Perhaps this is another inkling of Emily's search for glory. Though, had Uncle Jimmy been inclined to seek recognition, his family or society would hardly have stood in his way, like for Emily.

I love the atmosphere of this half of the chapter so very much. It was one of my favourite chapters to read again and again as a kid. I used to spend summers on our cabin reading these books, sitting by the firepit where we barbecued in the evenings after sauna, and it was very easy to step into these scenes from there.

Oh, the number of times I have tried to recreate Teddy's whistle. Yes, I'm of the persuasion that when a character keeps twisting their face or smiling cheekily, I need to do it too while reading. And yes, I'm doing it again as I write this. [It's even worse for characters I've written myself. Once kept adding "hmm-hoooo" after each sentence in my mind for weeks after writing an owl who kept doing that. Hmm-hooo]

Now I'm wondering if Teddy by himself would have been magic with his call and his witchy art, if his mother wasn't so strange and wreathed in mystery or does he draw it from the New Moon atmosphere. Am I being unkind to Teddy making him just an extension of someone else? Who knows.

Another rather "simple" Irish person. Kelly is distinctly an Irish name. Maybe there should be a Paddy Watch in this club.

I'm now fascinated with Aunt Elizabeth's moods. Was there a reason for this mood that had no cause that no one could placate, or was she herself the reason. I've had a friend or two who've had these moods where they take out some internal stuff on other people, while also not being able to discern that that's what it is. [Come to think of it, as someone who works in customer service I'm aware that some people even live their whole lives in such moods.] But I mean, poor cat. I can forgive Aunt Elizabeth much, but not her hatred of cats.

[thecoolerliauditore]

Your post abt gender presentation as part of character growth is soooo. To me, Joel embracing his femininity is so much. He puts up a giant facade of bravado and strength, he is tall and muscular and strong. Yet if there is an occasion for him to wear a dress he embraces it. Would he need to be this aggressive in life if he was born a girl? A girl doesn't need to be tall and strong, he'd been taught.

Joel likes being a man. But there is an unspoken serenity in femininity in his eyes. Maybe he can indulge, if just for a few hours hidden behind the facade of a joke.

A man wearing a dress is funny, right?

... right?

Sometimes a joke is just so... funny... you can't help but cry.

Anon there are some asks that like evoke a emotional reaction from me that I could swear are the result of momentary possession because I usually do not get the butterflies from posts like this but smth about the timing of this being sent mid joel/scott essay + me having no internet and rewatching my downloaded joel 3L episodes over and over did. something to me.

This post got really away from me sorry. the disease got me. (no really I am still sick and brainfogged please forgive me)

But yes this is so true so true anon. He's so verbal about it all too. handsome, strong, muscular, tall, etc etc. Guy who totally isn't trying to convince himself of his own lies.

I've always liked looking at empires as a sorta vague symbolic representation of the characters' backstories and I have had. So many thoughts about Joel being a prince (specifically one that gets wordlessly hitched to a queen) and a big, tall, manly God. Both are very classic symbols of (forgive me but I really do not know what other term would work) peak masculinity. Of course he would portray himself that way.

And Joel is powerful, he's scary and he revels that people see him that way. But Joel is only human and he can't keep up the facade forever. He spends so much of the death games feeling small and scared. And he hates it so much, he hates feeling emasculated so much that he ends up letting it kill him in LimL in his panic.

His relationship with his own sense of masculinity has inspired like. pretty much all of my Joel art now that I think about it alongside the homophobic gay thing. Most relevantly that wedding dress one. I've always headcanoned him as growing his hair out in HC10 where he feels safe enough to start exploring that side of himself (although he still won't admit it -- if you ask him he'll just make up some excuse about how he can't be bothered).

A big part of that i/me/myself animatic was me thinking about how both him and Scott are the types to think that their lives could be so much simpler if they were born girls, but in more of that misguided homophobic/softcore misogynistic way than a transfem way (that being said I'm like. lowkey shocked I haven't ran into any transfem joel or transfem scott in the wild. I've had bouts of imagining both as well as transmasc joel but I don't think I have anything interesting enough in my head to post).

Very dubious sourcing of headcanons occurring here but I really do think about that one Guess the Build episode where he makes a generic wedding scene and randomly remarks that it looks like him and Jimmy getting married, with himself wearing the dress. Sighs. Whatever, man.

I do really. really like the idea of him starting small with the femininity. I think he's at a stage where he's willing to at least give it a try. I haven't quite gotten ill enough about the WL dynamics to come up with making shit up headcanons but idk maybe his hair is long enough at this point that it gets in his face alot and Gem gets annoyed with his constant complaining and teaches him to braid it. Wait fuck new headcanon unlocked drawing him with a little baby braid from now on.

Also this might be more the gay thing than the gender thing but I'd like to think he becomes more comfortable with how small he is compared to other guys, and his thing for taller men like Etho and Jimmy. Getting more accustomed to physical affection and having the association with his size slowly turn from fear of being overpowered or humiliated to something much softer and warmer.

I love how you use the word "mock" anon because it really is. like that. It's all a joke. A man being gay or effeminate, that's worthy of mockery, of humiliation to Joel. He's internalized these beliefs and as a consequence he believes he will be subjected to that if he lets himself slip into being those things. So he has to keep mocking men like himself, keep insisting it's all stupid and gross, but at the same time doing that is the only time he gets to even pretend to experience expressing those parts of himself.

Maybe a bit of a side note but I've had this idea in my head for ages of like. This but Joel ends up just deciding fuck it one day and trying to feminize himself super hard to attract the men he likes (which is not quite right tm either he's maybe pushing his own boundaries a little too hard and it's uncomfortable but he feels like he has to do this). I usually imagine Jimmy but this could very much be Etho too.

They go on a little date and Jimmy literally could not give less of a fuckk. He's like oh Joel's experimenting, cool. and Joel gets all huffy about the lack of reaction and demands to know if Jimmy thinks this new version of him is pretty, to which Jimmy just says some shit like "yeah but you were always pretty" and Joel explodes on the spot and dies.

[fogwitchoftheevermore]

Assigning Every Fall Out Boy Song to The Life Series

because i'm a normal person with normal person feelings about fall out boy's discography and the life series. trust me.

“every” is a strong word here because fall out boy's discography is Literally Like 150+ Songs so i’m only doing the songs off their main 8 albums in this post. if enough people ask (which i seriously doubt will happen), i’ll do the eps+remixes as well.

sorry if there is an overabundance of certain characters/a lack of certain characters. i tried to include people are frequently as possible but a: i am inherently biased (though some of my faves are pretty underrepresented), b: not everyone has the same amount of content to draw from because they haven't all been in every season and c: some of these guys are simply not fall out boy characters to me. it's just how it is.

so, under the cut will be, in release order, every fall out boy song assigned to a life series character/event+the lyric that i think best represents why i assigned it.

TAKE THIS TO YOUR GRAVE

Tell That Mick He Just Made My List of Things to Do Today: DL!Pearl

To my favorite liar, to my favorite scar (to my favorite scar!)/I could have died with you/I hope you choke on those words that kiss that bottle/Confess (so bury me in memory)

Dead on Arrival: SL!Gem and Pearl (Gem POV)

This is side one, flip me over/I know I'm not your favorite record/The songs you grow to like never stick at first/So I'm writing you a chorus, and here is your verse/No, it's not the last time, 'cause I'd never say no to you/This conversation's still dead on arrival/And there's no way to talk to you/When you're dead on

Grand Theft Autumn / Where Is Your Boy: DL!Etho (JUST TRUST ME. AND ALSO GO WATCH THE BIT WHERE FINDS OUT BDUBS+IMPULSE ARE SOULMATES)

When I wake up/I'm willing to take my chances on/The hope I'd forget that you hate him more than you notice/I wrote this for you (for you, so…)/You need him, I could be him/I could be an accident, but I'm still trying/And that's more than I can say for him/Where is your boy tonight?/I hope he is a gentleman

Saturday: SL!Gem

Pete and I attacked the laws of Astoria with promise and precision/And mess of youthful innocence/And I read about the afterlife, but I never really lived/More than an hour (More than an hour)/When I say/Two more weeks, my foot is in the door, yeah/I can't sleep, in the wake of Saturday

Homesick at Space Camp: Post 3L!Skizz

Tonight is all about "We miss you" now/These friends are, new friends are golden

Sending Postcards From a Plane Crash (Wish You Were Here): Post DL!Joel

Every friend we ever had in common/I will sever the tie, sever the tie with you/You can thank your lucky stars/Everything I wish for will never come true/When you go, I will forget everything about you

Chicago Is So Two Years Ago: LimL!Martyn

You want apologies, girl, you might hold your breath/Until your breathing stops forever, forever/The only thing you'll get is this curse on your lips/I hope they taste of me forever

The Pros and Cons of Breathing: DL!Pearl

Woah, I want to hate you half as much as I hate myself/You know that I could crush you with my voice/Stood on my roof and tried to see you/Forgetting about me/Hide the details/I don't want to know a thing

Grenade Jumper: The Heart Foundation

They'll say it's not worth it, so we'll leave this town in ruin/Living like life's going out of style, and you came to watch us play/Like a "big shot talent", but at the end of the day you know/Woah, those busted lips we take back home

Calm Before The Storm: DL!Ren

You said/Between your smiles and regrets/"Don't say it's over"/Dead and gone, dead and gone, yeah

Reinventing the Wheel to Run Myself Over: DL!Jimmy and Tango

I can't wake up to these reminders of who I am/A failure at everything, 18 going on extinct/I know my place, it's nowhere you should roam

The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes: SL!Jimmy

I'm all ears and I'm all scars/To hear you tell me, "Boys like you, you try too hard/To look not quite as desperate," I'm hanging on/But I still know the way to make your makeup run/So, and when it all goes to Hell, will you be able to tell/Me "sorry" with a straight face?

FROM UNDER THE CORK TREE

Our Lawyer Made Us Change The Name Of This Song So We Wouldn’t Get Sued: 3L!Impulse

We're only liars but we're the best (We're the best)/We're only good for the latest trends/We're only good 'cause you can have almost famous friends/Besides, we've got such good fashion sense

Of All The Gin Joints In All The World: 3L!Ren and Martyn

You only hold me up like this/'Cause you don't know who I really am/Sometimes I just want to know what it's like to be you

Dance, Dance: DL!Bigb and Ren (Ren perspective, also this is specifically applicable most antagonistic moments of their relationship we get, to be clear. This is not the usual approach I take to them.)

You always fold just before you're found out/Drink up it's last call/Last resort, but only the first mistake, and I/I'm two quarters and a heart down/And I don't want to forget how your voice sounds/These words are all I have so I'll write them/So you need them just to get by/Why don't you show me a little bit of spine/You've been saving for his mattress, love

Sugar, We’re Goin Down: Martyn

We're going down, down in an earlier round (Take aim at myself)/And sugar, we're going down swingin' (Take back what you said)/I'll be your number one with a bullet (Take aim at myself)/A loaded God complex, cock it and pull it

Nobody Puts Baby In The Corner: LL!Cleo

I keep my jealousy close/'Cause it's all mine/And if you say this makes you happy, then I'm not the only one/Lyin'

I’ve Got A Dark Alley And A Bad Idea That Says You Should Shut Your Mouth (Summer Songs): Joel

Joke me something awful just like kisses on the necks of "best friends"/We're the kids who feel like dead ends/And I want to be known for my hits, not just my misses/I took a shot and didn't even come close

7 Minutes In Heaven (Atavan Halen): LimL!Grian

Sitting out dances on the wall/Trying to forget everything that isn't you/I'm not going home alone/'Cause I don't do too well on my own

Sophomore Slump Or Comeback Of The Year: SL!Skizz

We're the therapists pumping through your speakers/Delivering just what you need/We're well-read and poised/We're the best boys/We're the chemists who've found the formula/To make your heart swell and burst/No matter what they say/Don't believe a word

Champagne For My Real Friends, Real Pain For My Sham Friends: DL!Joel and Etho

Strike us like matches, 'cause everyone deserves the flames/We only do it for the scars and stories, not the fame/At least everyone is trying, everyone is shining/Everyone deserves the flames but it's such a shame, such a shame

I Slept With Someone In Fall Out Boy And All I Got Was This Stupid Song Written About Me: Scott

I'm the first kid to write of hearts, lies, and friends/And I am sorry my conscience called in sick again/And I've got arrogance down to a science/Oh, and I'm the first kid to write of hearts, lies, and friends, now

A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More “Touch Me”: LL!BigB

I confess, I messed up/Dropping "I'm sorry" like you're still around/And I know you dressed up/"Hey, kid, you'll never live this down"/And you're just the girl all the boys wanna dance with/And I'm just the boy who's had too many chances/I'm sleepin' on your folks' porch again, dreamin'/She said, she said, she said, "Why don't you just drop dead?"

Get Busy Living Or Get Busy Dying (Do Your Part To Save The Scene And Stop Going To Shows): DL!Grian and Scar (Scar POV)

I know this hurts, it was meant to (it was meant to)/Your secret's out and the best part is it isn't even a good one/And it's mind over you don't, don't matter

XO: LL!Mumbo (Look, this is a stretch, I'll be real, but this song was giving me so much fucking trouble. Let me live.)

To the "love," I left my conscience/Pressed between the pages of/The Bible in the drawer, "What did it ever do for me"/I say/It never calls me when I'm down/Love never wanted me, but I took it anyway/Put your ear to the speaker and choose love or sympathy/But never both, love never wanted me

Snitches and Talkers Get Stitches And Walkers: SL!Tango

Here's a picture with a note, "No, don't turn out like me"/It's only for your own good/No-oh, oh, oh/And haven't you heard, the word on the street is/"I lost it, called it quits," get out into the sun

The Music Or The Misery: LL!Bdubs and Etho (Etho perspective)

I got your love letters, corrected the grammar and sent them back/It's true, romance is dead, I shot it in the chest then in the head/And if you wanna go down in history then I'm your friend/Because they've got me in a band where I've never seen a heart I couldn't break

INFINITY ON HIGH

Thriller: SL!Scar

Last summer, we took threes across the board/But by fall, we were a cover story, "Now in stores"/Make us poster boys for your scene/But we are not making an acceptance speech

“The Take Over, The Breaks Over”: LimL!Cleo

Wouldn't you rather be a widow than a divorcee?/Style your wake for fashion magazines, oh-oh-oh/Widow or a divorcee?/Don't pretend, d-d-d-don't pretend/We do it in the dark with smiles on our faces/We're trapped and well concealed in secret places/We don't fight fair

This Ain’t A Scene. It’s An Arms Race: SL!Scar

I am an arms dealer/Fitting you with weapons in the form of words/And don't really care which side wins/Long as the room keeps singing/That's just the business I'm in

I’m Like A Lawyer With The Way I’m Always Trying To Get You Off (Me & You): SL!Jimmy and Martyn

We're the new face of failure/Prettier and younger, but not any better off/Bulletproof loneliness/At best, at best

Hum Hallelujah: LL!Cleo

I thought I loved you, it was just how you looked in the light/A teenage vow in a parking lot/'Til tonight do us part/I sing the blues and you swallow them too/My words are my faith, to hell with our good name

Golden: Joel (LimL especially, but also just in general)

How cruel is the golden rule/When the lives we lived are only golden-plated?/And I knew that the lights of the city were too heavy for me/Though I carried carats for everyone to see/And I saw God cry in the reflection of my enemies/And all the lovers with no time for me/And all of the mothers raise their babies/To stay away from me

Thnks fr th Mmrs: LimL!BigB and Pearl

Been looking forward to the future/But my eyesight is going bad/And this crystal ball…/It's always cloudy except for (Except for…)/When you look into the past (Look into the past…)/One night stand…/One night stand off!

Don’t You Know Who I Think I Am?: LimL!Skizz

They say quitters never win/But we walk the plank on a sinking ship/There's a world outside of my front door/That gets off on being down/Oh-oh, oh-oh/I could learn to pity fools as I'm the worst of all/And I can't stop feeling sorry for myself, whoa-oh

The (After) Life Of The Party: Scar, again. I don't know what to tell you, this is a very Scar album.

I'm a stitch away from making it/And a scar away from falling apart, apart/Blood cells pixelate and eyes dilate/And the full moon pills got me out on the street at night

The Carpal Tunnel Of Love: LL!Mumbo and Jimmy

Tired yawns for fawns on hunter's lawns/We're the has-beens of husbands/Sharpening the knives of young wives/Take two years and call me when you're better

Bang The Doldrums: DL+LimL!Jimmy and Tango

The tombstones were waiting, they were half-engraved/They knew it was over, they just didn't know the date…/And I cast a spell over the west to make you think of me/The same way I think of you/This is a love song in my own way/Happily ever after below the waist/Best friends, ex-friends 'til the end/Better off as lovers

Fame > Infamy: LL!Joel

I am God's gift, but why would he bless me with/Such wit without a conscience equipped/I'm addicted to the way I feel when I think of you, whoa/There's too much green to feel blue

You’re Crashing, But You’re No Wave: This is far from the only FOB song about a sensitive topic but it's one of the like... two that I don't feel comfortable assigning to something.

I’ve Got All This Ringing In My Ears And None On My Fingers: DL!BigB

You're a canary, I'm a coal mine/'Cause sorrow is just all the rage/Take one for the team/You all know what I mean/And I'm so sorry but not really/Tell the boys where to find my body

G.I.N.A.S.F.S.: DL!Impulse and Bdubs

Trade baby blues for wide eyed browns/I sleep with your old shirts and walk through this house in your shoes/You know, it's strange/It's a strange way of saying that I know I'm supposed to love you/I'm supposed to love you/I've already given up on myself twice/Third time is the charm, third time is the charm/Threw caution to the wind, but I've got a/Lousy arm

It’s Hard To Say “I Do”, When I Don’t: Am I allowed to say this is a Watchers song? I don't care I'm saying it.

I speak fast and I'm not gonna repeat myself, no/So listen carefully to every word I say/I'm the only one who's gonna get away/With making excuses today/You're appealing to emotions that I simply do not have

FOLIE A DEUX

Disloyal Order Of Water Buffaloes: Impulse

Oh, I'm a loose bolt of a complete machine/What a match, I'm half-doomed, and you're semi-sweet/So boycott love, detox just to retox/And I'd promise you anything for another shot at life

I Don’t Care: LL!Fairy Fort

Let the leaves fall off in the summer/And let December glow in flames (In flames; oh)/Erase myself and let go/Start it over again in Mexico/These friends, they don't love you/They just love the hotel suites now

She’s My Winona: SL!Martyn

We didn't come to compete, this is a demonstration/Even the young ones become irrelevant/They always bring up how you've changed

America’s Suitehearts: SL!Gem

Let's hear it for America's suitehearts, but I must confess/I'm in love with my own sins/You can bow and pretend that/You don't, don't know you're a legend, oh/Time, time, time hasn't told anyone else yet

Headfirst Slide Into Cooperstown On A Bad Bet: LimL+SL!Cleo, Bdubs, and Etho

Does your husband know the way that/The sunshine gleams from your wedding band?/Does he know the way, does he know the way/Of the crickets that would convince me to call it a night?/But I will never end up like him/Behind my back, I already am

The (Shipped) Gold Standard: LimL!Bdubs

All the yes-men said "No comment"/My mouth got going/The wrong way, and all the calls started snowing/The time my dad caught me a horseshoe crab/And I asked him if throwing it back into the sea would bring our luck back/I wanna scream "I love you" from the top of my lungs/But I'm afraid that someone else will hear me

(Coffee’s For Closers): LL!BigB

Though change will come, oh, change will come/I will never believe in anything again/We will never believe again/Kick drum beating in my chest again/No, we will never believe again/Preach electric to a microphone stand, oh

What A Catch, Donnie: This song is a compilation of different vocalists from bands associated with the band, a compilation of previous songs of theirs, and one of the only FOB ballads. I can't pull a specific lyric, but this one could be solidly used for a compilation/retrospective of every season so far.

27: This is the other one I don't feel comfortable assigning to anything. Moving on.

Tiffany Blews: SL!Lizzie

I'm not a crybaby/I'm the crybaby/A caterpillar that got stuck/Mr. Moth, come quick with any luck/A long walk to a dark house/A Roman candle heart, keep us far apart/I'm cocktail party doin' alright, hate me baby/Maybe I'm a piece of art/Oh, my friends all lie and say/They only want the best wishes for me

w. a. m. s.: LL!Mumbo

I'm a young one stuck in the thoughts/Of an old one's head/When all the others were just stirrin' awake/I'm tryin' to trick myself to fall asleep again, whoa

20 Dollar Nose Bleed: Dogwarts

When I look at the man who would be king, the man who would be king/Goes to the desert, the same war his dad rehearsed/Came back with flags on coffins and said, "We won, oh, we won"/Permanent jet lag, please take me back (Please take me back)/Please take me back, (ooh, ooh)/I'm a stray dog sick, please let me in

West Coast Smoker: SL!Joel

Wishes bounce me weightless/The infrared scope on pointlessness/The bulls are sedated/And this fight's fixed

Pavlove: SL!Tango

Something make my chest stir/Something make my head blur/Oh, oh, I'm not ready for a handshake with death, no/Oh, oh, I'm just such a happy mess, whoa

SAVE ROCK AND ROLL

The Phoenix: Team TIES

Bring home the boys in scraps, scrap metal the tanks/Get hitched, make a career out of robbing banks/Because the world is just a teller and we are wearing black masks/"You broke our spirit," says the note we pass

My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark (Light Em Up): LL!Cleo

I've got the scars from tomorrow and I wish you could see/That you're the antidote to everything except for me/Through a constellation of tears on your lashes/Burn everything you love then burn the ashes

Alone Together: The Roomies (Cleo, Etho, and Grian)

I don't know where you're going/But do you got room for one more troubled soul?/I don't know where I'm going/But I don't think I'm coming home/And I said, "I'll check in tomorrow if I don't wake up dead"/This is the road to ruin and we're starting at the end

Where Did The Party Go: LL!Tango

I'm here to collect your hearts/It's the only reason that I sing/I don't believe a word you say/But I can't stop listening

Just One Yesterday: LL!Bdubs and Etho

If heaven's grief brings hell's rain/Then I'd trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday/(I know I'm bad news)/For just one yesterday/(I saved it all for you)

The Mighty Fall: DL!Divorce Quartet

Your crooked love is just a pyramid scheme and I'm dizzy on dreams/(And I'm dizzy on dreams)/But if you ask me two's a whole lot lonelier than one/Baby, we should have left our love in the gutter where we found it/(Gutter where we found it)/'Cause you think, you think your only crime is that you got caught

Miss Missing You: Impulse and Bdubs (Impulse POV)

Baby, you were my picket fence, I miss missing you now and then/Chlorine kissed summer skin, I miss missing you now and then/Sometimes before it gets better, the darkness gets bigger/The person that you'd take a bullet for is behind the trigger/Oh, we're fading fast, I miss missing you now and then

Death Valley: This is the soundtrack to the LL Battle Royale Finale

We're going to die, it's just a matter of time/Hard times come, good times go/I'm either gone in an instant/Or here 'til the bitter end, I never know

Young Volcanoes: The Heart Foundation

C'mon, make it easy, say I never mattered/Run it up the flag pole/We will teach you how to make boys next door/Out of assholes (Hahaha!)/Tonight, the foxes hunt the hounds/It's all over now

Rat A Tat: LL!Grian and Mumbo (mostly Grian POV)

But I'll take your heart served up two ways/I sing a bitter song/I'm the lonelier version of you/I just don't know where it went wrong

Save Rock And Roll: DL!Pearl

I cried tears you'll never see/So fuck you, you can go cry me an ocean, and leave me be/You are what you love, not who loves you/In a world full of the word 'yes', I'm here to scream/No, no (No, no)/Wherever I go, go (go, go)/Trouble seems to follow

AMERICAN BEAUTY/AMERICAN PSYCHO

Irresistible: SL!Gem and Pearl (Gem POV)

Count me in unannounced, drag my nails on the tile/I just follow your scent/You can't just follow my smile/All of your flaws are aligned with this mood of mine/Cutting me to the bone/Nothing left to leave behind/You ought to keep me concealed just like I was a weapon/I didn't come for a fight but I will fight till the end/This might be your battle, might not turn out okay/You know you look so Seattle, but you feel so LA

American Beauty/American Psycho: LL!Scott

I think I fell in love again/Maybe I just took too much cough medicine/I'm the best worst thing that hasn't happened to you yet/The best worst thing/You take the full, full truth, then you pour some out/You take the full, full truth, then you pour some out/And you can kill me, kill me or let God sort ‘em out

Centuries: LimL!Martyn

And I can't stop 'til the whole world knows my name/Cause I was only born inside my dreams/Until you die for me, as long as there's a light, my shadow's over you/Cause I am the opposite of amnesia

The Kids Aren’t Alright: The Mounders

It twists my head just a bit to think/All those people in those old photographs I've seen are dead/And in the end/I'd do it all again/I think you're my best friend

Uma Thurman: 3L!Cleo

You'll find your way/And may death find you alive/Take me down the line/In Gem City, we turn the tide

Jet Pack Blues: Impulse and Bdubs

Honey, don't you leave/Don't you remember how we used to split a drink?/It never mattered what it was, I think/Our heads were just that close/The sweetness never lasts, you know

Novocaine: Guess what, it's Joel again. I'm not even a Joel main why is this happening.

In the truly gruesome do we trust/I will always land on you like a sucker punch/Singing I am your worst, I am your worst nightmare

Fourth Of July: LL!Lizzie and Cleo (Lizzie POV)

I said I'd never miss you/But I guess you never know/May the bridges I have burned/Light my way back home on the fourth of July/I wish I'd known how much you loved me/I wish I cared enough to know

Favorite Record: Post DL!Jimmy

You were the song stuck in my head/Every song that I've ever loved/Play it again and again and again/And you can get what you want but it's never enough

Immortals: 3L!Grian and Scar

I am the sand in the bottom half of the hourglass, glass (Glass)/(Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh)/Oh, I try to picture me without you, but I can’t/'Cause we could be immortals/Immortals/Just not for long, for long/And live with me forever now/Mmm, pull the blackout curtains down/Just not for long, for long

Twin Skeleton’s (Hotel In NYC): SL!Martyn and Jimmy

I just need enough of you to dull the pain/Just to get me through the night 'till we're twins again/'Til we're stripped down to our skeletons again/'Til we're saints just swimming in our sins again/And there's a jet black crow droning on and on and on/Up above our heads droning on and on and on/Keep making trouble 'til you find what you love/I need a new partner in crime and you, you shrug that

MANIA

Stay Frosty Royal Milk Tea: 3L!Ren

I'm 'bout to go Tonya Harding on the whole world's knee/And I'm stuck, night vision, so stuck, night vision/But I come to life, come to life/Some princes don't become kings/Even at the best of times, I'm out of my mind/You only get what you grieve

The Last Of The Real Ones: Bdubs

My head is stripped, just like a screw that's been tightened too many times/When I think of you, when I think of you/I will shield you from the waves if they find you/I will protect you, I will protect you/Just tell me, tell me, tell me I, I am the only one/Even if it's not true, even if it's not true, yeah

HOLD ME TIGHT OR DON’T: DL+LimL!Etho and Joel

I got too high again, realized I can't not be with you/Or be just your friend, I love you to death, but I just can't/I just can't pretend, we weren't lovers first/Confidants but never friends, were we ever friends?/But when your stitch comes loose, I wanna sleep on/Every piece of fuzz and stuffing that comes out of you/You, I took too many hits off this memory/I need to come down/An-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-nother day goes by/So hold me tight, hold me tight, or don't/Oh n-n-no, no, this isn't how our story ends

Wilson (Expensive Mistakes): LL!Bdubs

There's nothing more cruel than to be loved by everybody but you (but you)/Than to be loved by everybody but you, (but you) but you/If I could get my shit together/I'm gonna run away and never see any of you again/Never see any of you again/I hope the roof flies off and we get blown out into space/I-I always make such expensive mistakes

Church: SL!Lizzie

I love the world/But I just don't love the way it makes me feel/Got a few more fake friends/And it's getting hard to know what's real/And if death is the last appointment/Then we're all just sitting in the waiting room (Mr. Stump?)/I am just a human trying to avoid my certain doom

Heaven’s Gate: LimL!Skizz (right at the end)

I got dreams of my own, but I want to make yours come true/So please come through, honey please, please come through/Oh, go out in the world, start over again and again/As many times as you can

Champion: SL!Pearl

I got rage every day, on the inside/The only thing I do is sit around and kill the time/I'm trying to blow out the pilot light/I'm trying to blow out the light/I'm just young enough to still believe, still believe/But young enough not to know what to believe in/Young enough not to know what to believe/If I can live through this, if I can live through this/If I can live through this, I can do anything

Sunshine Riptide: LL!Scott

The world tried to burn all the mercy outta me/But you know I wouldn't let it/It tried to teach me the hard way, I can't forget it

Young And Menace: LimL!Martyn

We've gone way too fast for way too long/And we were never supposed to make it half this far/And I lived so much life, lived so much life/I think that God is gonna have to kill me twice

Bishops Knife Trick: Bad Boys

I got a feeling inside that I can't domesticate/It doesn't wanna live in a cage, a feeling that I can't housebreak/And I'm yours 'til the earth starts to crumble and the heavens roll/Away, I'm struggling to exist with you and without you, yeah

SO MUCH (FOR) STARDUST

Love From The Other Side: SL!Etho

I'd never go, I just want to be invited, oh, got to give up/Get the feeling, get the feeling, don't fight it, fight it/Sending my love from the other side of the apocalypse/And I just about snapped, don't look back/Every lover's got a little dagger in their hand

Heartbreak Feels So Good: 3L!Grian

Is there a word for bad miracle?/Nobody said the road was endless/Nobody said the climb was friendless/But could we please pretend this won't end?

Hold Me Like A Grudge: DL!Pearl

(You put the "fun" into dysfunction)/Hold me, hold me like a grudge/The world is always spinning, and I can't keep up, woah/Faster and faster, can't do it on my own/Part-time soulmate, full-time problem, yeah/So hold me like a grudge

Fake Out: SL!Lizzie

But I didn't take the love when I had the chance/But I swear I'm not sad anymore/So make no plans and none can be broken/No plans and none can be broken/Do you laugh about me whenever I leave?/Or do I still need more therapy?

Heaven, Iowa: 3L!Scar

And they don't know how much they’ll miss/At least until you're gone like this/Talking to the mirror, say, "Save your breath/Half your life you've been hooked on death"

So Good Right Now: DL!Bdubs

And I know, I know I've made mistakes, yeah/And I know, I know, but at least they were mine to make/They were mine to make/And all of our wildest dreams, they just end up with a-you and me/So, let's drive until the engine just gives out

The Pink Seashell: Ok, I cannot pull a lyric for this because it is the world’s most specific monologue, but the general message of it (“Life is a lottery and bad shit happens all the time, so might as well find happiness in the good things, even the small things.”) feels like it could be Skizz. Just trust me. This one is so fucking difficult.

I Am My Own Muse: LimL!Jimmy

Here I am, not sure you should take a chance/I like playin' dumb, lettin' you figure me out/But I was faded, in my own defense/So, drop a bomb on all the things we dreamed about

Flu Game: SL!Joel

Last night I dreamt I still knew you/You/I carved out a place in this world for two/But it's empty without you/I got all this love I've got to keep to myself/All this effort to make it look effortless

Baby Annihilation: Scott

The first time I took the mask off, just had another one on underneath

The Kintsugi Kid (Ten Years): LimL+ SL!Martyn (but mostly LimL)

Passed my old street, the house I grew up in/It breaks your heart, but four of the Ramones are dead/I felt you at the beginning, but needed you at the end/We're goin' low, low, low, low

What A Time To Be Alive: SL!Bigb

When, when, when I said, "Leave me alone", this isn't quite what I meant/I got the quarantine blues, bad news, what's left?/So, it seems the vulture's gettin' too full to fly, oh/What a time to be alive

So Much (For) Stardust: Ren

I'm in a winter mood, dreamin' of spring now/Burnin' myself down, burnin' myself down, burnin'/I feel like something that's been stretched out over and over again/Until I'm creased, and I'm about to break down the middle/Split me right down the middle, right, right down the middle, yeah

[pyjamaart]

one of my favorite edgelords 😈

Let's talk about one of my favorite games of all time, Jimmy and the Pulsating Mass.

I had originally started working on a different piece of art for this game, but that one is still a work in progress, since I have to get my shit together and draw multiple pieces of furniture for it. That's why I decided to draw something easier first. And I say easier, even though I spent like two weeks on this. Man, I really don't have that much time to draw anymore since I started working at my new job... Sometimes I really miss my old job, where I could finish all my work in an hour and then read Transformers fanfictions for the rest of the day. Sigh...........

I tried out a bunch of new stuff with Buck here, like finally learning that there actually is an Overlay function in Gimp and then promptly using it for the fancy effect on the line art, the pattern on his wings and the background. This image also made me realize I can only draw giant Mega Man boots. That's why his shoes look like that, lol.

Now let's finally talk about this game. If you don't know anything about Jimmy, it's a Mother inspired game about a little boy fighting horrors in his dream world together with his family and some other wacky characters like the coolest man you have ever seen, an anime waifu and a bear. The game starts off like a typical RPG where his mom sends Jimmy and his brother, Buck (pictured here in this image, I'll explain why he looks like that in a minute), to fetch some honey for a cake she wants to bake. And to get that honey, the two brothers visit the beehive that's located south of their house. On the way there, they have to fight various goofy looking monsters in turn based battles. Jimmy unlocks the power of empathy and imagination at the start of the game and can turn into some of the monsters he defeats in battle, by putting himself in their shoes. Examples include a smelly green blob that was living in his brothers dirty clothes, a sunflower that was getting freaky with some of the bees, a very fast bird, and a bear.

When they finally make it to the beehive, the queen explains that a group of thugs is bothering them and promises to give Jimmy some of their honey if he takes care of the ruffians for her. The so called "petty thugs" are located in a canyon right next door, so Jimmy and Buck go and beat them up. After various shenanigans, including a "goon exam" and Buck breaking some bartenders spine after he refused to serve Jimmy some milk, they have a battle with Punch Tanaka, the worlds raddest guy and also the leader of the thugs.

I think this is a good time to mention that this game is freaking hard. Punch was the first fight in the game where I lost a couple of times, since it really takes you a while to learn all the games battle mechanics. I didn't truly understand the power of Startle/Alert until I was halfway through the game. That's on me though. I'm stupid. Still, later boss fights can get insanely difficult if you don't know what you're doing. (Looking at you, Lingering Eyes....) After kicking the thug leaders ass on the first try, the whole gang flees the canyon, but not before Punch warns Jimmy that he doesn't know what he's up against. He's not talking about himself or his gang, but his employer. And we soon find out who that employer is...

Back in Giant Garden, Jimmy and Buck make their way over to the beehive again, only to be confronted by a trail of green liquid that leads from the throne to a door in the back of the room. The atmosphere suddenly turns very eerie, with the whole hive being shrouded in darkness, the background music being replaced by a frightening track that sounds like someone held a microphone right inside a dying swarm of insects, rightfully titled "Cacophany of Bees" and the enemies you fight on your way deeper into the hive being horrifically mutated, suffering, cannibalistic versions of the bees you fought beforehand. This is the first time in the game you come into contact with a so-called "nightmare dungeon", if you ignored the secret one you can unlock in the canyon.

These nightmare dungeons all represent one of Jimmys fears, because, as you can probably recall, we're playing through the dreams of a ten year old boy. Maybe he was stung by a bee in the past and that's why he developed a fear of them? (Doesn't help that his brother loves to terrorize the poor things...) The other nightmare dungeon themes only get worse than bees: spiders, heights, drowning, haunted houses, math, eternal sleep ...and bears.

Coming back to the beehive, after trekking through a plethora of gore and dead cartoon insects, Jimmy and Buck get confronted by the now heavily mutated queen of the bees, who has some of the most chilling dialogue in the entire game.

"Jimmy... Jimmy, where did you go?

I can't see well, Jimmy.

I can't hear well, Jimmy.

I can taste blood, Jimmy.

It's dark and I'm alone. It's dark and I'm alone. It's dark and I'm alone. It's dark and I'm alone. It's dark and I'm alone."

In the end it turns out that the title-giving pulsating mass is behind all the terrible things happening to Jimmy's dream world, like employing the petty thugs to terrorize him, corrupting the poor bees, the nightmare dungeons, etc etc. And after Jimmy and Buck finally get back to their house, they arrive just in time to see their whole family getting kidnapped by a space ship. Even the two brothers get beamed up into the ship. All part of the pulsating mass's master plan...

Now I won't go into detail and tell you the whole story of the game (even though I really want to), but you can expect the game to get even darker later on. Normally, I don't enjoy playing really dark and gritty games, but thankfully, since this game was inspired by the Mother games, it still retains some of the funny and heartwarming moments that the series is known for. And I like that a lot. If the heartwarming moments balance out the horrors, then I can deal with the horrors. (TVTropes has this very fitting trope called "Too bleak, stopped caring", which Jimmy masterfully avoids with its charming, yet flawed characters and ridiculous moments that genuinely make you laugh, like the whole game shifting into an entirely different genre for one specific area.)

I'll try my best not to get into too heavy spoilers (that's reserved for the other piece I'm drawing), but I think I still need to explain what happened to poor Buck here. Just like the queen bee, he's been taken over and corrupted by the pulsating mass, after saving Jimmy from a murderous bear. (As you can tell, there are a lot of bears in Jimmy and the Pulsating Mass. Or is it always the same bear? Better play the game and find out!) After the dreaded bear boss fight happens and Buck gets dragged down into a hole, Jimmy and their mother Helga jump in after him, but you don't see him again until way later in the game, where he suddenly sports this massive pair of veiny wings, his slightly deformed skin and muscles have turned into a deep shade of purple and his eyes glow in a menacing red. There's also no talking to him, since his normal grumpy personality has been turned up to eleven and he's completely blinded by rage, actively attacking and sabotaging his family members in their quest to stop the pulsating mass.

He gets better though. Don't worry.

What I find really interesting about this character is that he genuinely loves his little brother and wants him to get stronger and more independent, but the way he tries to accomplish this is just really really... bad. In a late-game dungeon centered around Buck you find out that he's actually responsible for all the horrifying abominations and gore making their way into Jimmys head. How, you ask? By showing him a bunch of thrillers and splatter movies that were definitely not meant to be seen by a ten year old boy. Just to "toughen him up". Another dungeon centered around him, titled "The Abyss" (which is just a memory zone and not a nightmare zone, despite the scary title) implies that Jimmy is actually a little scared of his big brother. As I've said, all of Jimmys family members are deeply flawed people. (Don't even get me started on his uncle. Oh BOY. More on that in my next essay.) But I think it's nice. I think it makes the characters much more human. Much more relatable. Because despite all the horrible things his brother put him through and despite how scared he is of him, Jimmy still loves him a lot. And over the course of the game you get to understand that despite how imperfect and dysfunctional Jimmys family is, they're all there for him in the end to help him fight against the pulsating mass.

Man, I have so many feelings about this game. That's why it's one of my favorites of all time.

But before I'm done yapping, one more thing about Buck: The fact that he's an older brother, was presumed dead after going missing and reappears later in the game completely changed with a big pair of wings reminds me a lot of Claus from Mother 3. And since he's one of my favorite video game characters ever, Buck gets a lot of points in that regard alone. But enough with the Mother comparisons, other reviewers (Am I a reviewer now?) have already done that in massive amounts.

I think I'm gonna stop here for now and continue my essay when I post the other piece of Jimmy fanart I'm working on. Until then (and until I get my shit together and draw some cabinets and chairs), see you next time.

Jenny out.

[raindropren]

I have not posted for awhile(The way I look at tumblr means I have to sign in everytime and I couldn't find my password for abit, oops) but here's a couple of C!Pearlo headcanons I've either made, in the last week, or not in the last week... at all.

DemiRomantic!! Might be slight projection but with the way I've set up the world and timeline, her being demiromantic is in my mind a surprising amount.

She and Sausage meet for eachothers birthdays! Sometimes Gem comes but normally it's just them :3

Speaking of those two, My personal headcanon is that they met when they were like, preteens? before highschool and such. and before they had really met anyone else in canon.

My Pearl has her being born in the Worlds Australia but living most of her childhood in England, then going back to live in Australia in Highschool! Her family would visit Australia alot even when they lived in England. (my mcyt au's Earth is very complicated cause I couldn't have pearl just, not be Australian, it's brought up alot, I can't ignore it, but that'd mean Earth and it's continents exists so, IT'S BECOME MORE COMPLEX THEN I WANTED OKAY. LOL)

Empires is a exchange program first. the whole thing is like, kinda an investment? for the future??? but the Kingdoms are still certain empires members birthright, so some were stolen from them and the program was the only way to get it back(Gem, Fwhip, Scott), and some were just happenstance(Shubble, Joey, Lizzie, Sausage), and some were random,(Jimmy, Katherine, Pixl) but Glided Helianthia was already a "Fight to be ruler" type of kingdom. So Pearl's highschool experience was ALOT of fighting and learning/training to fight(Along with normal highschool stuff of course) and she had farming courses and stuff, but the fighting bit is what drew her into going. THEY HAD DORMS AND HER AND SHUBBLE WERE DORMMATES And everything I have about it was inspired by EmpiresSMP Highschool au chatfics :') None of it is canon but it helps me with thinking about characters in a "They actually were kids at some point" way instead of only thinking about them as the characters they are now! Helps with the timeline too.

Did any of the last one make sense. no. not at all, shhh.

Keeps Journals, Alot of them, She has a Journal for each server and many of them are not fully filled out because despite having the Journals, She hardly writes in them enough to fill them out. She's scared of running out of pages and having to get a new one, only to have her time on the server end and be left with a mostly blank book she will never write in again. obviously the Life Games(Series) don't have her writing a journal WHILE it happens, but She does after it. other then double life, she did not even think about writing that one down. Reliving those memories, for a journal. no.

Doodles on scrap paper, I think she likes drawings bugs and fish :]

Has a big cardboard box that has every piece of bought or homemade jewelry anyones given her, mostly her friends but also a (un)surprising amount of offering. They are all organized into what type and material the jewelry is/is made out of. Many of them are from Grian, back when they were children. and a ton are from Gem and Sausage. lots of kandi bracelets with weird sayings or words, lots of names, hers and her friends. Moons and Sunflowers are very common in the fancier jewelry, as well as wolfs and wolf symbolism. Her most recent is a Kandi bracelet from Gem, it says "Pickles" teehe. She loves it.

Always has a secret bedroom in her home of the season, normally very underground and through a surprising amount of traps. She keeps extremely important things in there, normally keepsakes. but also her bed for when she doesn't want to be bothered, whether cause she's overwhelmed or just sorta sick. :p

I'll leave it at 10! Hehe. if there's any spelling mistakes, no there isn't shhh

I love making worldbuilding to go with headcanons. my au is fun to me and that's all that matters(no it isn't, alot else matters but it's silly so,, ya.) I hope my fellow pearlo fans liked hearing my headcanons(and au stuff), i like writing bout it :3

btw If u wanna know anything about my au, please ask i will answer, I am indeed obsessed.