#maybe tango built it there. but was it tango

[canarydarity]

I can’t stop thinking about (mczu) etho and the ranch. He knows theres a tragedy there—likely more than one. He knows the occupants did not make it. He knows there’s a stain on the couch and the carpet too dark to be anything but blood.

But he doesn’t know that it was built by those boys whose lives he’d spared, the ones he found hiding in that closet. He doesn’t know the stain on the couch was SCAR. He doesn’t know it’s where Scar died!! Where grian had to— !!!!!!

He ends up there and he mourns its occupants, because he doesn’t need to know what happened to them to know that they didn’t make it. It’s displayed clearly in the used sheets on an unmade bed, the stack of firewood by the unfinished fireplace, the notebook with the torn out pages abandoned on the coffee table. There’s too much domesticity, not enough paranoia. He knows they weren’t the kind of people who make it in this world. But HE DOESNT KNOW HES THE REASON THEY GOT TO HAVE IT, EVEN IF ONLY FOR A LITTLE WHILE. EVEN IF THEY DIED ANYWAY.

GOD if the mczu is all about choices (if etho didn’t kill grian because it wouldn’t matter. Bdubs would still be dead.), about decisions and consequences, then THIS choice of his is just as important, no? The ones that lead to positives, to relief, to mercy, even if momentary?

When he’s inside the ranch he cannot help but be affected by the ranchers tragedy without even knowing who they were or why—it’s enough to know they didn’t make it and were never going to. And it’s enough to see what they had and be jealous he’d never been able to have it with bdubs—to wonder if that’s why he’s still here and they aren’t. But the fact stands that without THAT CHOICE he’d made—to let them go—they may not have made it long enough to have had it at ALL, HOWEVER SHORT IT DID INDEED LAST.

AND HE DOESNT EVEN KNOW IT!!!

CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?!?

[redwinterroses]

It's not like it's hard to get Tango taking about Decked Out, but buy him a couple of potions in the museum speakeasy and he gets downright confessional.

Grian leans across the stat poker table, his wings rustling eagerly. "Truth or dare, Tango," he says. "Is Decked Out... alive?"

“Aren’t I supposed to pick truth or dare before you ask the question?” Tango tosses back another potion and gives the group a half-smirk.

“We all know you’re going to pick truth because you’re too particled to get up.” Etho’s face is obscured, but they can hear the laugh in his voice and see his fox ears twitch with amusement. “So spill.”

Tango shrugs. "Well," he says, "It's not exactly not NOT alive, if you know what I mean."

Grian glances at Doc on his right and Etho on his left. They shrug at him.

"Yeah, no," he says, looking back at Tango. "I don't think we know what that means."

"Is it like that Grumbot robot that Mumbo and Grian built?" Doc asks, scratching thoughtfully at his chin, his blunt black claws scritching loudly against the stubble of his beard. Grian tries to catch a peek at his stat tokens and gives a sheepish grin when Doc notices and quickly angles them away.

"Hey, now," Doc starts to say, but Tango interrupts.

"Nah, no -- I mean, Grumbot was pretty... Simple. No offense."

"None taken." Grian pulls a token from his stack. "Number of villagers traded with," he offers. "And I'll up the ante to three diamond blocks, gentlemen."

Tango lays down his own token, and taps a finger on it in an aimless rhythm. “The dungeon is… aware,” he says. “Not alive, I guess, but it knows things. It recognizes people.”

“I’ve noticed,” Etho says dryly. “That place hates me.”

They all laugh, but Tango shakes his head. “Does it hate you?” he asks and waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Or does it want to impress you?”

“Oh, I’m impressed enough.” Etho drops his stat token on the table with a soft click. “So it can stop glitching and trying to kill me now.”

“Aww, you’re just playing hard to get.”

Doc lays his tokens down on the table and stands. “I will sit out this round, I think,” he says. “I have done almost nothing with villagers this season. Will anyone have more to drink?”

“I’m not playing hard to get!” Etho protested, ears lying flat. “If anything, I’m playing easy to get – I just walk right in there!”

“You heard it first here, folks,” Tango says. “Etho’s easy.”

He ducks, but not in time to dodge the rolled-up napkin Etho chucks at his face. It lands in his hair and goes up in a miniature whump of flame.

Grian snickers, waving away smoke.

“So if the dungeon’s not alive, but it’s not quite not alive,” he says. “How does one maybe go about… making friends with it?”

“That,” Doc says, thunking a fresh bottle of Cub’s custom-mixed potion onto the table. “Is cheating, you pesky bird. No flirting with the possibly-not-not-alive dungeon.”

“You’re telling me you’re above flirting for a few extra keys and crowns, Doc?” Tango asks with teasing skepticism.

Doc sniffs, flipping the cork from his bottle with his thumb. “I don’t need flirting,” he says dismissively. “I have skills. Game strategies, man.”

“He’s already planning how to get the dungeon’s attention.” Etho flips his token over, exposing the total. “Aren’t’cha, Doc.”

Doc tips back his drink and shrugged. “Eh… that is for me to know, and you to worry about.” He winks.

“Tango, what’s your total there?” Grian fiddles with his token.

“Well, I know it’s higher than old three-digit Minecraft master over here.” Tango holds up his token and pinches it between his fingers. “Under three hundred, Etho? What’ve you been doing all season?”

“Not hiding out in a hole for thirteen months,” Etho grumbles good-naturedly, pushing his diamonds into the center of the table.

“Yeah, well, that’s what I have been doing and look at that stat.” Tango displays the count. “Seven k, baby – read ‘em and weep.”

Grian makes an exaggerated sad face that immediately morphs into a triumphant grin. “Rookie numbers, fellas,” he crows. “Try over twelve thousand.”

Tango groans and rolls his diamonds toward Grian with a grimace. “Yeah,” he says. “Definitely not telling you how to flimflam my dungeon, you shyster.”

“Tango, I’m hurt.” Grian, entirely unbothered and very un-hurt looking, scoops the pile of diamonds into his pouch. “My stats are all ethically earned.”

“And that’s how your dungeon runs will be too.” Tango stashes his tokens and stands. “Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure. Mostly.”

“Back to your cave, Tango?” Etho doesn’t stand, but his bushy white tail wags a little in barely-contained excitement. “So, Decked Out will be open again… soon?”

“You bet your foxy good looks,” Tango says. “Or… maybe don’t. Not with those stats.”

This time he does duck the thrown napkin.

He exits through the museum, the laughter of his friends fading behind him as he steps out into the cool afternoon air. For a moment, he stretches, shaking out his elytra and clearing his head a bit of the potion particles.

Is Decked Out alive?

Tango grins, sharp teeth glinting. Of course the dungeon’s alive, who’s he kidding? And she’s hungry, too, he can feel it even from here. His friends should just be grateful he’s only ever built friendly monsters that want to devour them.

“On my way,” he mutters to himself. Or the dungeon. “And Etho’ll be coming over soon too.”

He feels the dungeon’s excitement.

“Oh…you’ve gotta be kidding me.” Tango launches himself in the air and spirals over the shopping district, angling toward Decked Out and laughing so loudly the sound bounces off the buildings below.

His dungeon totally has a crush on Etho.

[flwrkid14]

A Love That Hurts: Tim and Danny’s Toxic Tango

It didn’t start like this.

In the beginning, their love had been easy. They found comfort in each other—a soft place to land when the rest of the world felt too sharp. Tim loved Danny’s laugh, the way it lit up a room even when everything else felt dark. Danny adored Tim’s quiet strength, the way he always seemed to know how to pick up the pieces.

For a while, they were each other’s saving grace. Tim helped Danny feel grounded, giving him the stability he hadn’t known since Amity Park became more battlefield than home. Danny made Tim feel alive, like he wasn’t just another cog in the Bat-machine—like he was someone worth loving.

But that kind of love is hard to hold onto when you don’t know how to nurture it.

------------------------

The cracks started small: an offhand comment here, a tense silence there. They chalked it up to stress, but the arguments began to escalate, unraveling the love they’d built. Neither of them knew how to fix it, so they didn’t try.

One fight bled into another. Danny’s voice was sharp. “They’re my friends, Tim. Something you’d know about if you still talked to yours. When was the last time you even answered Cassie or Steph? You’re too busy trying to fix things that don’t need fixing.”

Tim didn’t hesitate. “And when was the last time Val actually came through for you? She’s got her own problems—why does she need to patrol with you? Are you just keeping her around for the nostalgia? Or are you afraid of letting her go?”

Danny’s lips curled into a bitter smile. “Right, because you’re the expert on letting go. How many of Kon’s clones are you going to try to ‘save’ before you realize it’s never going to bring him back?”

Tim flinched, his voice low and venomous. “At least I don’t run back to my exes when I feel like I’m losing control. What’s next, Danny? You calling Sam and Tucker to bail you out?”

Danny laughed, hollow and sharp. “You really think I need them? I’m here, Tim. With you. Maybe if you spent less time in your spreadsheets, you’d see that.”

The fights always ended the same: one of them storming off, slamming doors, followed by hours of silence. When they apologized, it wasn’t about fixing anything—just avoiding another explosion.

Neither could admit the truth: they weren’t protecting each other—they were just too afraid to let go

------------------------

Danny didn’t just distance Tim from his friends; he actively cut them out. He deleted Cassie’s texts before Tim could see them, until eventually, she stopped trying. When Tim noticed, Danny shrugged. “She’s probably busy,” he said casually, though his tone left no room for argument.

Tim didn’t push. After all, he wasn’t innocent. When Val invited Danny to patrol with her, Tim was quick to sow doubt. “You really think Amity Park can’t survive one night without you? Or is it just about her? Seems like you don’t trust me to be enough.”

Danny hesitated, his frustration visible, but he stayed. Over time, Val’s invitations stopped, and Danny didn’t ask why.

------------------------

Sam and Tucker’s visit to Gotham was no different. Danny had been excited to see them, but when the weekend came, Tim hit a low point.

“Do you really need to see them right now?” Tim asked, his voice soft but pointed. “It’s been rough lately. I thought you’d want to focus on us.”

Danny faltered, guilt creeping in. “They already planned the trip…”

“And what about me?” Tim pressed, his voice taking on an edge. “Am I supposed to just sit here and wait while you run back to them? Is that what this is?”

Danny canceled the plans. He didn’t explain, just sent Sam a curt text: Can’t make it. Something came up. He ignored the flood of concerned messages that followed, shoving his phone into a drawer.

When Tim noticed the tension, he didn’t comment. Instead, he doubled down. “You’re better off without them. They don’t understand this life. Not like I do.”

Danny nodded, even as the distance from Sam and Tucker grew into something he didn't know how to bridge.

Tim wasn’t immune to Danny’s tactics either. Bruce invited Tim to family dinner, but Danny’s reaction was immediate. “You’re seriously going to leave me here? After everything?” he asked, his tone more accusation than question.

“It’s just dinner,” Tim said weakly, but Danny’s narrowed eyes stopped him.

“Right. And how long before you’re ‘just’ staying overnight at the Manor? Before Bruce drags you back into his plans? You think they care about you? They care about what you can do for them.”

Tim stayed, sending Bruce a quick excuse. When Dick called the next day, Tim brushed him off with a clipped, “Busy.” Danny noticed the tension but said nothing, a smug satisfaction flickering in his eyes when Tim didn’t bring up the family again.

When Damian later referred to Tim as “too busy playing house,” Danny felt a pang of guilt that he quickly buried under pride. At least Tim was his, now.

------------------------

They were each other’s shields against the world, but it came at a cost.

Danny missed Sam and Tucker fiercely but couldn’t bring himself to reach out, not when Tim would undoubtedly notice. Tim felt the growing distance from the Bats like a weight he couldn’t shake, but he didn’t try to repair it—not when Danny so clearly needed him more.

The truth was simple and ugly: they weren’t protecting each other. They were controlling each other.

Danny missed the Tim who made him feel safe. Tim missed the Danny who didn’t flinch at “I love you.” But neither of them could stop. Because if Sam and Tucker weren’t there for Danny, and the Bats weren’t there for Tim, they only had each other.

And maybe that was the point.

[goingdownorup]

Thinking about limited life again.

It made sense Etho went with TIES.

Etho went with TIES because he’s comfortable with the three of them. Because even though Bdubs was there when Scar asked if Etho could be their dad, Etho wasn’t comfortable enough with Scar and Cleo to even attempt…whatever they were trying to do with him at first. He had been with Tango and Skizz once before, and Impulse and him worked really close together the previous game, even if it was mainly for Etho and Bdubs benefit. It was based around being comfortable with each other.

All three of them knew Etho’s flaws. All three of them were well aware of Etho’s bias to Bdubs, and honestly, used it to their advantage. All three of them knew how to work around that, how to plot under Etho’s nose and sometimes even in front of him if it meant Etho could keep plausible deniability. They knew his strengths too, his loyalty, his mind. His mob farm was probably the biggest supplier of gunpowder that season, for everyone. The flaws and strengths didn’t matter as much as the fact that Tango, Skizz, and Impulse all wanted him on the team, and that the team never felt like it was fracturing. It wasn’t two and two like BEST was, it was four strong from the beginning. It was comfortable, because all three of them wanted Etho there. Not just Bdubs, not just Scar for a bit, SIT was prepared to do what it took for Etho to commit to their team up.

And maybe, that’s why it hurts so much that they had Etho take the final kill for Skizz.

They had built a comfortable place for Etho and now they were asking him to destroy that. Etho could go back to TIES tower and be greeted by people he KNEW were friends and allies. These guys would never betray Etho, just like he would never betray them. All three of them had the same kind of loyalty that Etho has, self-destructive in the name of character. Etho had just been hunted and hunting his own family down for time, getting knocked down time and time again and had finally come back to his home with his tail between his legs. He was panicked, more panicked than normal with his clock ticking down at the corner of his screen, he was walking into a scene half done and taking it over with a frustrated cry, which isn’t something Etho usually does.

But he did, because he felt comfortable doing so.

And then Skizz throws him the ax, Tango acts like someone shot his dog, and Impulse just stares.

And suddenly, it's not comfortable anymore.

It’s not comfortable that Impulse is one step away from dissociating. It’s not comfortable that Tango has tears trailing down his face, that both of them look almost angry that Etho picked up the ax in the first place. It’s horribly jarring, to come into a meeting expecting comfort for his failures and be greeted with a worse opportunity.

Because Skizz- the nicest guy in this match, the man who looked at Etho and said “i want him to join us”- is telling Etho to kill him. Ordering him to, actually, his final order of the game. No amount of pleading looks will get Tango and Impulse to do what Skizz wants done, Etho’s only defense is quickly shut down when they bring up just how much time Etho still had.

It’s not comfortable to see Skizz’s head roll off the edge of skynet. It’s not comfortable, the next session, when Impulse and Tango look to him for leadership. This game wasn’t meant to be comfortable, and Etho forgot about that. TIES was the most comfortable team up for him, and in the end, it created one of the most heart wrenching ends for all of them.

[oldsoul007]

dancing with the stars

nicholas chavez x pro-dancer!reader

summary: nick goes on dwts

Nicholas, a talented but introverted actor, decides to take a bold step and join the cast of Dancing with the Stars. His professional dance partner, y/b, is not only skilled but also incredibly charismatic and outgoing. From the start, y/n realizes that getting Nicholas out of his comfort zone will be a challenge, but she's up for it.

During our first rehearsals, Nicholas is hesitant and reserved, unsure of how to express himself through dance. With my patience and encouragement, I slowly help him open up. I introduces fun exercises and games to make him feel more at ease, and gradually, Nicholas starts to enjoy the process. We spend long hours practicing, and with each passing day, Nicholas becomes more confident and expressive.

As the season progresses, their bond deepens. Nicholas finds himself looking forward to their time together, not just for the dancing but for the genuine connection he feels with y/n. Her support and belief in him make a significant impact. Towards the end of the season, during a particularly heartfelt dance, Nicholas realizes that his feelings for y/n have grown beyond friendship. He's falling for her, and the realization fills him with a mix of excitement and nervousness. The journey on the show has not only transformed him as a dancer but also brought him closer to someone who means the world to him.

In one of our practices, Nicholas and I decided to take a break from their usual intense routines and just enjoy the dance. The studio was filled with upbeat music, and the atmosphere was light and playful.

Nicholas started by attempting a goofy dance move, making me burst into laughter. "What was that?" I giggled, trying to mimic his awkward steps. "Hey, I'm just warming up!" Nicholas replied, grinning. We both knew that sometimes, letting loose was the best way to connect and improve our chemistry on the dance floor.

We spent the next hour experimenting with different styles, from silly hip-hop moves to exaggerated ballroom steps. At one point, Nicholas tried to dip me but ended up almost falling over, causing both of us to collapse into a fit of laughter. "Okay, maybe we should stick to what we know," I said, still chuckling.

As the practice went on, we found themselves naturally falling into a rhythm, blending our playful energy with genuine skill. By the end, we had created a spontaneous, fun routine that was uniquely ours. "That was awesome," Nicholas said, giving me a high-five. "We should definitely incorporate some of this into our next performance."

I nodded, my eyes sparkling with excitement. "Absolutely. I think we just found our secret ingredient." We left the studio that day feeling closer than ever, our bond strengthened by the joy and laughter we shared.

In the dimly lit rehearsal studio, the music starts, and Nicholas and I begin their routine. The dance is a passionate tango, filled with sharp movements and intense eye contact. From the very first step, there's a palpable energy between us.

My hand rests on Nicholas's shoulder, guiding him through the intricate steps. "Focus on me," I whispers, my voice steady yet filled with an underlying intensity. Nicholas nods, his eyes locked onto mine. With each turn and pivot, our bodies move in perfect sync, the chemistry between us undeniable.

As the music crescendos, the dance becomes more heated. Nicholas surprises me with his newfound confidence, pulling me closer with each step. Our faces are inches apart, and the air between us feels electric. The tension builds, and for a moment, it feels like the world outside the studio fades away.

Suddenly, we stop, breathless and staring into each other's eyes. The room is silent except for our heavy breathing.

Nicholas can feel his heart pounding in his chest, and he knows that this moment is about more than just the dance. It's about the connection they've built, the emotions they've shared, and the undeniable spark that's grown between them.

The lights dimmed in the studio as the announcer introduced Nicholas and me for our performance. The audience fell silent, anticipation hanging in the air. The music began, a slow and haunting melody, setting the stage for our contemporary dance routine.

Nicholas and me stepped onto the floor, our movements fluid and synchronized. From the first lift, it was clear that this dance was something special. Nicholas, usually reserved, moved with a newfound grace and intensity, his eyes never leaving me. I reciprocated, my expressions conveying a depth of emotion that captivated everyone watching.

As the dance progressed, our connection became more evident. Each step, each turn, was executed with precision but also with a raw, unspoken emotion. The choreography told a story of love and longing, and the chemistry between Nicholas and I brought it to life. The audience could feel the intensity, the passion, and the vulnerability in every movement.

Towards the end of the routine, Nicholas lifted me effortlessly, holding me high above his head as the music swelled. The moment was breathtaking, a perfect culmination of their journey together on the show. As the final note played, we ended in a close embrace, our foreheads touching, both breathless and emotional.

The studio erupted in applause, the judges on their feet. Nicholas and we stood there, still holding each other, knowing that this dance was more than just a performance. It was a testament to our hard work, our growing bond, and the feelings that had blossomed between us.

During the wrap up of the show for the week, Nicholas turned to me, his eyes serious. "Y/n, I need to tell you something," he began, his voice soft but steady. "I think... no, I know that I've started to fall for you. It's more than just the dance for me."

I looked at him, my expression a mix of surprise and uncertainty. I took a deep breath before responding, "Nicholas, I think what you're feeling might be because of the intensity of our dances. The emotions, the connection – they can sometimes blur the lines between reality and performance."

Nicholas shook his head, taking my hands in his. "No, y/n, it's not just the dance. It's the way you laugh, the way you care about everyone around you, the way you make me feel like I can be myself. It's everything about you."

My heart raced, but I tried to stay grounded. "Nicholas, we've spent so much time together, it's natural to feel close. But we need to be sure that what we're feeling is real and not just a product of our routines."

He nodded, understanding my caution. "I get that, and I don't want to rush anything. But I needed you to know how I feel. Maybe we can take it slow, see where this goes outside of the studio?"

I smiled softly, appreciating his honesty. "Okay, let's take it one step at a time. We'll figure this out together."

[w0yxe]

Imagine the past soulmates of the Bad Boys seeing how much their partner has changed this season.

Scar couldn’t care less.

Or atleast that’s what he tries to tell himself. Grian never even loved him in Double Life so why should Scar care how he’s doing? BigB should probably be more confused then him even if Scar knows this entire persona is very out of character for Grian. The alliance probably won’t even last, knowing him he’ll probably betray his allies.

But no matter how much he tries to tell himself that he doesn’t care, he can’t get rid of the feeling that this is the only time Grian has changed his skin in the entire series.

The two full seasons Scar had been with Grian, the latter never switched out of his red sweater but now that Jimmy and Joel have rolled around suddenly he’s in a leather jacket with sunglasses? Occasionally even a suit? He can only feel a little hurt because at the end of the day Grian probably doesn’t care about him anymore…it’s not like hes made an effort to talk.

————————————————————————

Tango doesn’t know how to feel.

This wasn’t his rancher, this wasn’t the ball of sunshine that he knew last season. This guy was…confident? He was bolder and Tango didn’t know if he liked that or not. His Jimmy, his rancher, was sweet and caring, even if he was airheaded at times it was all with their best interest in mind.

Maybe it was just his exterior now but it looked far less friendly than the one Tango knew, jean jacket now replaced with leather and sunglasses permanently covering his shining blue eyes. The oceans eyes that put out Tangos flames of rage in the lowest point of their lives when Scar had burnt down their ranch.

This Jimmy also only seemed to take risks and not care about his own safety, dying twice to pure stupidity and recklessness. It would hurt Tango, like a phantom pain, every time he had to see a death message from “SolidarityGaming” in chat. Especially if it was easily preventable. Especially if it wouldn’t had happened had Tango been with him instead.

————————————————————————

Etho didn’t see a change.

Joel had always been more reckless than the average player. He would mlg off cliffs for crying out loud! His hostile personality also stayed the same although it did come out more being able to fully embrace it with this facade and all. While that personality may have been directed at him (or his cows) sometimes it was nothing Etho couldn’t handle.

Especially with that shoulder cut leather jacket, studs lining the edges of the sleeves and sunglasses that make it look as though he were staring you down whenever you talk to him.

There was a strange feeling in him though, when he heard that he wanted to built on the sea with Jimmy. That feeling only grew when he’d overhear the trio laughing about whatever jokes they’d decide to make.

Joel was also smiling. It’s not like he hadn’t with Etho but the smile Etho knew seemed to hide the truth of “please don’t leave me, I can do these things for you” “I’m worthy of your affection” whereas this one was of pure enjoyment with his team. He just wished he treated Joel better so that instead of only having memories from one season, he would be the one making Joel laugh and smile in this one.

[whereispearlescentmoon]

Can’t stop thinking about despite playing two of the most similar games (in that they are the two winners who had no allies throughout their season and were consistently shut out every time they tried to make a friend), Scar and Pearl had completely opposite wins. Warning long post ahead.

Pearl didn’t have a second to bask in her win. Grian sat for a second before jumping off that cliff. He had a moment to feel the weight of winning, even if it felt bad. For Scott it was relief. “We finally did it!” Said like a man who is beaten and bloodied but just about alive. Yes he is struck down, but there was a moment of victory. But then we get to Pearl. By the nature of the game, there is no second where she gets to just be the winner.

She doesn’t get to stand in blood stained snow, staring over the body of her opponent. She doesn’t get to feel Grian’s grief or Scott’s relief or Martyn’s euphoria. She is dead a millisecond after the crown touched her head. Torn to shred by heat, an irony to how she has been tearing herself apart with cold the whole time. A game spent alone and suffering, maybe it is merciful that she didn’t have a moment to be properly alone but maybe it is cruel to not even allow her the small moment of joy in her victory. Her episode fades out as she speaks in death, not words about herself or her win, but about the only person who she really wanted by her side.

She gets back to Hermitcraft and desperately tries to remember what it felt like to wear a crown. It was so fast. Of all the ironies, there is still a signal tower to be built at her base, still a king to overthrow. She stares at Ren’s crown and wonders if hers looked like that. She tries it on after they’ve killed him. Not quite. Too opulent, too bejeweled. Hers was sleeker, she knows. They all go to the Empires server and she stares at all the crowns around her. Some are more like hats or headdresses, some wear nothing at all. None are anything like what she thinks hers was like, not that she would ask to try them on. There was something more etherial, less handmade than those the emperors wear. Tango crowns her Queen of Decked Out 2 and places a massive and intimidating thing on her head. Her winner’s crown wasn’t nearly as heavy as the one she wears around the rest of season 9. It was small, a circlet more than anything. And it was freezing cold in the second it touched her, likely because the metal didn’t have any time to absorb her body heat in that snowy forest. She still doesn’t know what it looked like. No one ever will.

Scar is the opposite. Grian got to cut his celebration short when it felt more like dancing on graves than a win. Scott and Martyn are both struck down by unseen forces, forces that know that this kind of world isn’t meant to last. But Scar is the only winner to leave his episode alive. He can keep turning in his task over and over and over, but surely the dopamine hit of extra hearts must wear off at some point. Maybe by the time it did, he had too many to die in any efficient manner. Maybe he trapped himself like that.

He is properly alone any how. He has all the time in the world to celebrate. All the time in the world to clutch Pearl’s body, the one person who actually fought for him even against one of her own allies. All the time in the world to stare at blood soaked fields, at bases burnt and torn apart by explosions. Listening to nothing but the wind where there was once banter and laughs and screams. His crown is too heavy but he finds he cannot take it off. He stares at his reflection for hours sometimes. The memory of it will imprint in his mind forever.

He finds Mailbox and Matchbox, still tucked underground. He fends them off as he makes graves for Bdubs and Pearl. Mumbo’s been gone a few days, his body already moved. He buries Joel by Lizzie’s pumpkin house rather than his own helter-skelter. Theres no body for Lizzie, no one to bury Joel next to. He finds the Roomies’ base relatively untouched and moves Cleo, Etho and Grian there. Cleo had said she wanted to die at home. Jimmy is already buried near the doghouse, and Scar lays Martyn next to him. The Heart Foundation base is destroyed, so he takes pains to rebuild it before burying BigB, Skizz, and Tango among the cherry blossom leaves. He even manages to fix up the lottery system, not that there’s much use for it now. Sometimes he just pulls a name to look at it, grateful that the papers with Skizz’s handwriting and nicknames survived. He saves Gem and the Scott’s for last. He tells himself that it’s because their base is all the way up in the mountain, that it may be trapped. Really it’s because he can’t help but feel some guilt looking at Scott, who died for Gem, only for Scar to strike her down anyways. He doesn’t know which cottage belongs to who, he was never up here long enough to ask, so he buries the three of them all in a row out front. He explores and rebuilds all the places he was not welcome.

[stitchthesewords]

I'm gonna upload this to ao3 later but I wanted to post this now before its too late! @eydilily happy birthday I wrote some Tangtho based on the art you posted. Warning for smoking and Redstone being treated like an addictive substance.

Redstone buzzed. It was important to know that. Redstone buzzed and when you were surrounded by it for hours on end, it seemed like your head never stopped buzzing. Like somehow the buzzing could form words that would cure all your woes with your latest project. Like they whispered exactly what you needed to do to get the right torch to turn on. Tango was constantly surrounded by redstone.

Sure, it was healthy necessarily, but the server was encompassed by people who didn’t know when to quit working on their projects. Tango wasn’t even the worst of it – Decked Out 2 notwithstanding. But, to be fair, Tango’s new big project was all redstone.

Minecart rails didn’t buzz in the same way! They didn’t buzz at all – which is what Tango told himself when he was down in the bowels of his binary system. Decked Out 2 was loud; this was quiet. This was peaceful, even. Sure, he was still troubleshooting and running into problems every five minutes but it wasn’t like he was down there for days on end. Staring at an observer line as it blinked but didn’t go off correctly for the thousandth time.

Color him shocked when he noticed the fire on his head died down to embers and his back ached in a familiar way. Okay. Okay maybe he needed to move, get some fresh air. See his neighbors. Maybe he had mail!

No mail was to be found but that was fine. It gave him an excuse to stretch his legs beyond the confines of his factory. A quick look at his communicator told him Etho was online and who better to go see – easily within walking distance, a redstone buddy he could complain to. It was the perfect solution. His tail flicked side to side as he thought about just what to say to his good friend. Fire reignited on his head and he even found himself almost buzzing. Just like redstone.

Etho was just…nice to talk to. Different from Impulse or Zed when he wanted to troubleshoot, different from Skizz to hang out with. Something quiet, contemplative. Calm in a way Tango could never hope to be. He liked that about Etho.

His tail sparked as it flicked around when he saw his neighbor outside, working on his landscaping. Perfect! Tango was worried he might be buried in Frogger or something and he’d have to be the one doing the redstone retrievafication. Retrievifying. Whatever. He waved his own clawed hand at himself.

Etho was absorbed in his landscaping, but there was a way to his movements where it was clear he knew someone was watching. Every move of his hands was deliberate, and when he stood up from the dirt, he half turned to smile at Tango.

“That was you! How’s it going buddy?”

Tango grinned. The two of them met somewhere in the middle of Etho’s front yard and exchanged a hug, where Etho visibly scrunched his face under his mask. “You smell like redstone.”

“You act like that’s a bad scent! Ead de Perfume de Tango or however it’s said. If I don’t smell like redstone, that’s when we have a problem.” His sharp teeth glinted in his grin as Etho rolled his eyes and waved Tango inside.

“So, I’m where you decided to take your break?” Etho held the door open for Tango, dodging his sparking tail as he walked past. Tango’s fire didn’t really hurt; it was warm, it produced heat, but it was more like extra voluminous hair. Made of fire. Still, the instinct to didge fire still hadn’t really left the hermits senses.

Etho had his own reasons to be nervous around fire.

“Who better to hang out with than my good buddy good neighbor Etho, huh?” Tango propped himself up on a block, crouched over so he was eye level with Etho and leaning his chin on his hands for balance. “Your house is coming together now that you finished Frogger. Could you imagine if I built a little home after Decked Out?”

Tango laughed a little and Etho’s eyes held a fondness. “You lived in Decked Out – and besides, Frogger is not nearly the same size of a game.” He smacked Tango on the shoulder and laughed as he knocked tango off his feet and spilling onto the floor in a heap of Blazeborn glory. He still offered Tango a hand, pulling him up with enough force he pulled Tango right to his chest. Tango’s hair ignited into an inferno. Etho made a sputtering noise, mouth full of his firehair.

“Sorry.” Tango skittered back, looking anywhere but Etho’s face. He could hear the little, too knowing chuckle pass Etho’s lips and that made him pout, cross his arms. Stomp his foot even a little.

“You are adorable when you pout,” Etho said. He didn’t let it hang in the air for long, walking past Tango towards his back door. “So are you here to troubleshoot the factory or just hang out?”

There was one long glance cast over his shoulder that had Tango scurrying after him in the wake of it, hair dying down back to its normal warm blaze but slowly. Ever since Decked Out 2, but probably before if Tango thought about it too hard, Etho’s voice made him blush. Maybe it was the first Decked Out that did him in. Maybe he’d always been done in.

“Hang out, I suppose. You’ve got a nice little garden, everyone is telling me I need to touch grass. Seems like a win win.” Tango followed Etho without really watching where Etho led them, but soon enough he was greeted to the sounds of the outdoors and the sights of Etho’s landscaping.

It was peaceful in a way a steampunk factory was not and Tango almost felt bad for dotting Etho’s neighborhood with it. Almost. He stretched, feeling his shoulders creak and then pop. Etho leaned on his fence, almost like taking a seat on it but not quite, gaze up towards the roof.

“I need to be able to see the clouds from here, I think. Roof is too solid.,” He said, turning to look at Tango. “Wouldn’t it be nice. Smell the dirt, see the clouds. Get some sun. I feel like everyone is always complaining we both need to do that.”

Tango hung on to Etho’s every word, nodding his head and leaning on his head. “At least you get a nice, unobstructed view of this lake you built,” he said. Etho agreed.

There was a silence, nature playing out its own theater for the two of them to enjoy in each other’s company. Tango spent plenty of time with the hermits this season – at least he felt like he did. People were constantly coming by the factory, he was playing Frogger occasionally. He raided bastions with Skizz and Impulse. He teased Scar. But for the first time he realized he’d missed the company that Decked Out 2 had. Getting a kiss on the forehead for good luck. Sitting in the lobby holding someone’s hand. Everyone sleeping piled together so they could get right back to it in the morning.

Tango’s ears flicked, slightly, and he opened his mouth to say something. What that something might be he wasn’t sure. Every season it was like the hermits had to work their way back up to admitting they missed each other, to sharing kisses and beds again. It felt like they’d only just gotten there in season 9 and now Tango was some kid to scared to admit he had a crush again. He closed his mouth. He opened it again, trying to work around it, when Etho cleared his throat.

He didn’t actually say anything, but the noise threw Tango off as he dug around in his pockets. Tango’s attention was transfixed when he produced two redstone torches and fidgeted with them for a moment. “Do you want one?”

Tango reached over and plucked one from his hand. They were...it was hard to explain. Redstone buzzed, yes, but it could also vaporize. Being surrounded by powered redstone meant you were breathing in time bits of vaporized redstone. Sure it wasn’t good for you, but it was another danger of being a redstoner.

What didn’t help is they often sought it out on their own.

Tango placed the torch in his mouth. It needed to be close to your face if there was only one, something that was just there to dull the itch to get back a redstone project. Etho held his own in his mouth, hand cupped around his face to hide it from view. Like he was embarrassed by it.

Tango felt that need for closeness again and stood up, going to be beside Etho. There was a gentle, bubbling water sound from the lake just before. The rustle of wind. Etho’s...beautiful and scarred face. Without a word, Tango found himself reaching out to cup Etho’s face in his own hand instead.

There was maybe more of a mischievous grin as he pressed the two redstone torches together. Redstone flew off in little sparks, a small cloud of faint red they really only saw because they knew what to look for. Etho chuckled.

There was a moment longer before Tango stood back a bit and, holding the torch in his teeth managed a ‘thank you’ that was...probably coherent. It made Etho chuckle again, a delightful sound that warmed Tango’s whole chest. He took the torch into his hand and Tango’s knuckles to his lips and pressed a kiss there.

Redstone buzzed. So did the feeling of companionship.

[blueishspace]

Looped sun 7

Loop #255

Pearl: What do you mean you spent the last 2 loops redstoning mate?

Mumbo: Grian was better at redstone then me! I couldn't possibly let that stand!

Pearl: Uh huh.

Mumbo: But finally balance is restored.

Pearl: But wasn't it a bit boring? To just do that?

Mumbo: Well I didn't just do that. I built some stuff, got better at it.

Pearl: But?

Mumbo: I guess I was a bit of a spoon. Overdone it... But I don't mind it, I like experimenting with creating machines using redstone! It's fun for me.

Pearl: Hmm... What if you tried to learn other types of redstone?

Mumbo: Other types?

Pearl: You know you have very distinct type of redstone.

Mumbo: Do I?

Pearl: Yeah, maybe you could try to learn other ways of doing redstone. Even of you keep your own style maybe it could be a fun experiment.

Loop #256

Mumbo: Ehm... Zed? Are you home?

Zed: Hello there Mumbo! Came to see my cave of contraptions? It's a bit empty right now but -

Mumbo: Actually I wanted to ask if I could join in?

Zed: Wait, really?

Mumbo: Yeah? It sounded like a fun...way to do some redstone.

Zed: Hmmm I never tought about this happening...hmm, alright!

The dual Mumbo-Zed cave of contraptions ended up being the most interesting base of the season.

Loop #258

Pearl: How do you plan to learn redstone from Tango?

Mumbo: Well... I'll join in decked out!

Pearl: You can't just ...ask him to join in.

Mumbo: No no! I have a plan! I took last loop to learn to play the boardgame version...!

Pearl: ..why?

Mumbo: I'll show you!

Mumbo: Hey Tango, what are you doing here?

Tango: Oh just planning for a new minigame idea.

Mumbo: Oh...same!

Tango: Oh? Do you want to share.

Mumbo: Ehm... do you know the boardgame decked out?

Tango: ... Yeah, I didn't think you would Mumbo!

Mumbo: Was thinking of creating a version of it using redstone.

Tango: No way, that was what I was thinking!

Mumbo: N-no way! We should totally do it together!

Tango: That sounds like a great idea.

Tango: Me and Mumbo are proud to finally show you, Decked Out!

Pearl: ... Mumbo?

Mumbo: Y-yeah?

Pearl: You are...scary good at manipulation.

Mumbo: I am?

Pearl: What do you call that?

Mumbo: Well I...uh

Pearl: Well?

Mumbo: Oh pants.

Loop #259

Grian: Why have you given Mumbo this idea?

Pearl: Because it sound smart at the time mate.

Grian: This is the worst possible timeline.

Pearl: Because Doc and Mumbo have turned Hermitcraft into a redstone nightmare?

Grian: No, because it's a little humid ... Of course It's because of Doc and Mumbo!

Loop #263

This time Grian had started off towards the end of Evo, just in time to go to the end, the plan was simple: Defeat the dragon at record speeds qnd depending on what variant of the watchers it was either join them or tell them off and possibly go sun titan mode on them if they pushed. The plan had lasted 5 seconds until he recognized a familiar mustache on the dragon's snout thing.

Grian: Mumbo!?!?

Mumbo: Hi G... I think It's because of the end crystals back in Last Life.

Grian: Holy... you...

Mumbo: ... Do you think you could stay here? It's a bit lonely here...

Grian: Yeah, of course Mumbo.

Loop #267

Scott opened his eyes to a big room, by the drapery he could tell he was a noble of some kind, looking by how fancy the decor was it was likely some form of royalty. He was also wearing some gloves which was weird considering how warm it was inside. Then he heard two knocks and a voice.

Pearl: Scott? Scott?

Scott: Gem? What's wrong?

Pearl: Do you wanna build a snowman?

And Scott realized exactly were he was.

Scott: I can't believe it.

Pearl: Shut up.

Scott: Gem is Kristoff?

Pearl: I said shut up mate.

Scott: Ah! Never.

Loop #269

Grian: What's with that face? ... What did you loop as last time.

Pearl: Selene.

Grian: The Moon titaness?

Pearl: Yep, you aren't the only that can go titan mode anymore.

Grian: ... If ... If this is linked to our winner titles. And Scar's is the Earth does that mean he is eventually going to end up... looping as Gaia?

Pearl: Oh ... Oh I see what you mean. Yeah that is... Horrific.

Loop #271

Mumbo was an enderman hybrid with amnesia, Scar was a goat hybrid president and Grian was absolutely done with looping into the dsmp. He knows It's because they are both minecraft servers but still...

Loop #272

Mumbo: I don't know mate, are you sure? I never watched tried third life... I'm kinda used to Last Life.

Grian: Ah don't worry you'll do fine!

Mumbo: I... alright, I'll try it.

Grian and Scar had managed to steal the banner when Ren came after them with his army. Mumbo knew they could take care of themselves but he couldn't just...do nothing. It took him seeing the shocked faces of the red army to realize had accidentally shifted to his ender dragon form. At least Scar and Grian looked excited.

Loop #275

Grian woke up in a room he had never seen before... wait. No.

Grian: Scott? Is this another-

Scott: Welcome to the second ever loop proofed escape room!

Grian: ... No.

Scott: Pearl helped built this one.

Gria : No!

Scar: I can't believe it took so long to finish that first room! ... I'm going to be last.

Scott: ... That wasn't the first room.

Scar: What?

Scott: You finished the entire escape room Scar.

Scar: ...

Scott: How does this stuff keep happening?

Loop #277

Grian: I've made a severe and continuous lapse in my judgement.

Mumbo: What did you do?

Grian: In this loops Grumbot and NPG aren't sentient so I tried to merge the npc Grian AI with the Grumbot AI.

Mumbo sounds incredibly pained.

Mumbo: Why?

Grian: I don't know.

Prev Next First

[canarydarity]

Do you ever think about how mczu tango tried to build them somewhere safe but instead he built them a home and how those aren’t synonyms anymore in this world and so it wasn’t enough. Haha :)) I’ve only been awake for half an hour

[kensingtonbae]

Ok so I know none of y’all is ready for this conversation but now y’all gotta be ready cause we’re sitting down and we’re having it.

EYE am the first one that physically collapses and starts foaming from the mouth when this conversation is brought up but I’ve rarely ever seen people look eachother in the screen and be direct, sincere, blunt, only people on tiktok, so EYE am gonna say this and get it out of my chest cause I can’t do it no more.

CANON AOT CHARACTERS ARE MUSTY, CRUSTY, STINKY, FILTHY, NASTY, MUCKY.

Yall just remember that all events from season one (from trost) to season three all happened in the span of FOUR MONTHS. Four months in which they went on mission god knows how many times and how long. When had my babes got time to clean themselves? LIKE TWO. Two full body cleanses and maybe a couple more but they were just armpits and face. They were surely unbearable to be around. And don’t get me started on the skid marks, that’s the ultimate proof. Like literally how many times did they clean up from head to toe and change/wash all of their clothes. Let’s not think about it moving on.

ik you guys won’t hear me out on this but cadet days were the worst. Self care products were probably expensive and limited as wall Maria had fallen, so they couldn’t even use a proper amount. Kids going through PUBERTY. A big bunch of BOYS training ALL the time under any weather with LIMITED soap. Any of you ever been in a boys’ locker room or a freshman class? You remember the smell right? Cause you ain’t forgetting such violation. Yeah now imagine that in cramped living spaces like the barracks FULL OF FILTHY PUBESCENT BOYS living there all the time everyday. Like I’d rather have a corpse under my bed than walking in there. The girls were better but not THAT MUCH. They were going through evolution🎉 too.

So like canon aot fics are so good like chefs kiss but when I remember this…ik it’s gonna be painful. Y’all remember that napoleon letter to his wife? No? Yeah? Those who do, you get what I mean. I mean I’m not like shaming anybody or kinkshaming or whatever but can a girl wonder.

The matted, oily, dandruffy, dusty hair. The sticky face. The death breath for panting for a long time without eating or drinking or rinsing. The STENCH especially on the boys (ik eren and Reiner were lethal) BUT THE GIRLS TOO THEYRE NOT SAFE. The built up sweat from wearing the same clothes for four months. The dirt under the nails. THE CHEESY FEET. The fungis under those clothes. I physically cannot go on I’m sorry but there would be so much more to say it’s not even funny atp.

Again I’m just wondering like I’m being realistic no shame at all, I’d be in the same situation if I woke up there tomorrow, I’d have a panic attack for sure because I care too much about my hair but like again, what can i do ima kill titans and think about my marinated armpits later right? Don’t cancel me please.

Like I’m just wondering how in fics did they even kiss during those times or like do the devil’s tango in the barracks or anything else at all. Like am EYE the clean freak or do you guys see the vision???? I guess there is a smut plot armor too. That’s impressive I mean it.

Anyway for anybody wondering YES LEVI TOO. He can’t escape the mustiness and has the same chances at cleaning himself as the others HOWEVER we know he’ll do it correctly unlike somebody else.

Again ik they were different times and situations I’m just wondering yk whatever cancel me.

WARNING: THIS WAS A 4AM STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS AND IM NOT GOING TO REREAD IT, IT 99% WONT MAKE SENSE TO YOU AND THAT’S FINE, IM ON THE VERGE OF DEATH (RUSSIAN SLEEP EXPERIMENT VICTIM) AND NOTHING EVEN MAKES SENSE TO ME RN. DANCE TO THE BIG BIG BEAT.

[siblingshuffle]

Day 18! “Portable!”

Lore:

So, it turns out I lied about Tango’s lore not being any different :P

I realized that him being a support for Blues still would change him a little, because BLUES is changed a little. So here’s why Tango is the Art of the Day: if Tango was built with Blues in mind and Blues isn’t a fighting robot in this au, then Tango must’ve been built to support him some other way, and with Blues’s biggest personal issue being his core is still dysfunctional, I had the idea that maybe Tango has 2 cores - one he runs on, and one that is used exclusively to power a portable charger.

Blues found this out after not charging well one night and Tango kinda leaping into his arms that morning. Blues, being a cat person, of course gave Tango a bunch of love and attention, when he suddenly noticed his power - which was at like a high 50% at most - was now at 70%.

Now I want you to imagine Blues entering the lab and holding a still-purring Tango up and being like “Dad, what the heck did you put in my cat” & Dr. Light just going “…I guess that means you didn't sleep well?”

[gtwscratch]

Homesick

Summary: Tango misses Jimmy, and Skizz hypes him up (set in Secret Life)

CW: None!

Word count: 1,042

(Sorry not sorry about the Flower Husbands slander-)

========================

“Your rancher?”

Tango stops his small tangent as Skizz interrupts him with the question, sitting on a chest. He feels his cheeks heat up a little bit in embarrassment.

“Oh, yeah, um,” Tango scratches the back of his neck nervously. “Remember when you missed a round of the death games?“

“Yeah, I think Impulse said that you guys were, like, soulbound to another person on the server? Your health bar was connected or something?”

Tango nods. “Yeah, that sums it up. Well, I was.. um.. bound to Jimmy. We built a ranch and called ourselves ‘The Ranchers.’ We.. didn’t make it too far. Canary Curse and all that. That’s what he called it at least.”

He looks to the ground, glancing up every so often as he waits for laughter, or teasing, or just some kind of reaction from Skizz.

“Was he good to you?” Skizz asks the question with complete sincerity, and of course that’s the first thing he asks. It’s just a very ‘Skizz’ response.

While it’s not out of character for Skizz to be nonjudgemental, it’s still a relief to Tango, and he lets out a small breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

Skizz waits a few moments before prompting him again. “Well, was he?”

Tango nearly scoffs, a soft smile on his face. “He wasn’t just good to me.”

Memories from the ranch flash through his head. He remembers the reassurance that Jimmy gave him when he had gotten them both blown up in the first session. He remembers Jimmy bringing home some of their first cows and the excitement they shared. He remembers Jimmy calming him down when the ranch first burned down. He remembers finding RR, and—despite Jimmy’s hesitancy—bringing him onto the ranch and raising him as their own. He remembers Jimmy’s laughter, his smile, how his feathers looked golden when the light hit them just right. He remembers waking up to a wing or an arm wrapped around him, holding him close. He remembers never wanting to leave the ranch—never wanting to leave Jimmy.

His smile falters, also remembers not getting to give him a proper goodbye.

“He was.. everything.”

If Tango wasn’t so caught up in his head at the moment, he would’ve realized how cheesy he sounded and gotten thoroughly embarrassed. It’s not that he thinks Skizz is going to give him trouble (maybe he’d give Tango just a little bit of crap about it, but they’re bros, so it’s fine). Tango’s just not used to being so open about how much he misses life on the ranch. He glances away from Skizz, clearing his throat.

“But that’s all in the past now,” he quickly adds on.

“But you don’t want it to be,” Skizz points out just as quickly, and Tango can feel his cheeks burn a little.

“Well.. yeah, of course I don’t. It was fun.”

He was fun.

“And you’re still down bad for him,” Skizz smirks. Aaand there the teasing is. It causes Tango to blush a little more.

“Yeah, obviously,” Tango rolls his eyes.

“Then I guess there’s only one thing to do,” Skizz decides, standing up. “We’ve gotta get you your rancher back.”

“Wait, what??” Tango’s tail flicks to the side as he looks to Skizz with wide eyes. “What in the void do you mean?”

“What do you mean ‘what do I mean?’ We’re going to convince Jimmy to join us, and then you guys can get back together.” Skizz says it so nonchalantly, like it’s common sense.

This time, Tango does scoff. “Yeah, like it’s gonna be that easy.”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Skizz crosses his arms and tilts his head to the side slightly, mildly confused.

“Because it’s just not,” Tango says, a snippy edge to his tone.

Skizz seems unbothered by Tango’s quickly-rising temper. “That’s not an answer. You literally just said you’d want to team with him, but now you don’t want to? What’s up, Tango? You can talk to me, man.”

The flames in Tango’s hair and on the end of his tail flare a bit, but only for a quick moment. “What if he doesn’t-..!” He takes a second, balling his fists against his sides. Tango takes a few breaths before continuing, his voice a lot quieter than it had been before. “What if.. he doesn’t want me back anymore?”

Skizz’s expression softens lightly, and he takes a few steps forward, putting a hand on Tango’s shoulder. “That’s ridiculous. Why wouldn’t he?”

Tango sighs. “I know he and Scott were a thing the first time we did all this.. And he’s always going after Jimmy in these games. Well, except for the third game.. I think.” He pauses. “He seems really determined to get Jimmy back.”

“And? Jimmy’s never said yes to him,” Skizz says, sounding very sure of the statement.

“Well, yeah, but-“

Skizz is quick to interrupt Tango. “Ah! No buts, mister! You’re going to be quiet and listen to what I have to say before you try to argue with me, okay?”

Tango gives him a small nod, and Skizz continues. “If Jimmy’s not saying yes to Scott’s advances, it means he’s saying no. Just because Scott wants to get back together with him doesn’t mean Jimmy wants the same. Relationships—romantic or not—work two ways, and from what I’m hearing, this is a one-sided relationship.

“So, you still have a chance, my friend.” Skizz gives Tango a reassuring smile. “And, between me and you, you and Jimmy sound like you make a way cuter couple than Jimmy and Scott were.”

Tango chuckles at that, and Skizz gives him a genuine smile. “Really, Tango—you should shoot your shot with him. You sound like you were really happy with him.”

Tango smiles back. “Yeah, I was..” His smile turns into a smirk. “And you’re right—Jimmy and I are a much better couple than he and Scott ever were.”

“Of course I’m right!” He gives Tango’s shoulder a light squeeze. “Now! Shall we go find Jimmy and ask him to join us?”

Tango has no idea why Skizz asked him that because the man is already walking towards the island’s shore. He just shakes his head and sighs softly, smiling. “Alright, alright. Let’s go get him.”

=====================================

I hope you all enjoyed! There are more one shots on the way!! :DDD

[thetomorrowshow]

The love crystal.

It wasn’t meant to make Ren fall in love with him. It was only ever meant to be a—a promise, sure, a commitment, so that Ren would know that he could trust him over anyone else. So that he would know that Martyn—

He doesn’t end up giving it to him.

Martyn dies thinking of Ren (he died with Ren’s name on his lips, once, long ago—) as the End crystal lights up pink in his eyes.

~

my piece for @treebarkzine! go check it out and support all the wonderful artists and writers that I had the privilege to work with :) the full fic is under the cut!

~

Scar turns Red not long after Martyn places his order, so he assumes it’s all gone to naught and he won’t be getting what he wants out of this.

But Scar holds true to his word, and it’s delivered to him later that week.

The love crystal.

He’d ordered it on a whim—not that he wanted to make someone fall in love with him, not really. It was just—well, if it happened to come up, then he could—and if that person happened to be Ren, then—

It wasn’t meant to make Ren fall in love with him. It was only ever meant to be a—a promise, sure, a commitment, so that Ren would know that he could trust him over anyone else. So that he would know that Martyn—

He doesn’t end up giving it to him. He really does want to, but every time he finds himself alone with Ren his palms get all sweaty and his heart starts hammering a little too quickly and he decides that he’ll wait until the moment is right.

But it comes down to the final four of them, and the moment isn’t right.

Martyn dies thinking of Ren (he died with Ren’s name on his lips, once, long ago—) as the End crystal lights up pink in his eyes.

—

“What’s that?”

Martyn looks up, his skin buzzing uncomfortably at the presence of his soulmate. Cleo stands there, tapping their foot.

She looks . . . good, he supposes. Healthy. She and Scott have taken up residence on one side of the ravine, and the other side had already been claimed by Timmy and Tango, so Martyn had built his bleeding heart midair, as close to Cleo as he dared.

“Nothing much,” Martyn says, returning to his delicate work. Cleo huffs, plops down next to him.

He’s out on the trail that leads to Impulse and Bdubs, but he’d stopped about midway down, wanting to take care of this before night fell. 

“How’d you get a pink crystal? Scar selling them again?”

That’s what’s between his fingers, after all.

It wasn’t supposed to come with him. The things that come with you between worlds are always integral to who you are—Grian’s sweater, Bdubs’s clock, Ren’s sunglasses. Nothing should have come with him that doesn’t usually, and Martyn’s well accustomed to his normal spawn.

The first time he’d stuck his hands in his pockets since being here, his fingers had brushed against something smooth.

Great. Somehow, the love crystal came with him. At first, it had filled him with breathtaking hope—because maybe, if it came with him, maybe he and Ren—

But—

Ren and BigB.

Martyn and. . . .

“Nah. It came with me,” he admits, and Cleo makes a surprised noise.

“Came with you? One of Scar’s pieces of glass? What is it?”

Martyn doesn’t answer at first. Both because it’s totally embarrassing to admit that it’s a love crystal that had never worked out, and because he’s just about carved the tiny hole through it that makes this such a careful operation and he needs to focus so that he doesn’t accidentally shatter the stupid thing.

“Er, loyalty crystal,” he eventually says, tongue between his teeth. The needle held between sweaty fingers breaks through to the other side of the crystal, and he lets out a breath that’s been building up in his chest.

Cleo actually throws her head back and laughs. “Loyalty crystal?” they disparage. “No way.”

The lie had slipped out almost without him noticing it, so he shrugs. Better than the truth. “I’m loyal!” he protests.

“Yeah. Right.”

He points the needle at her accusingly. “You’re the one who chose Scott while I was out trying to find my soulmate. I tried to make amends—it’s not my fault that we’re both terrible people.”

Cleo doesn’t argue with that, doesn’t bring up everything that was his fault.

He isn’t loyal, not at all, but they accept his word at face value and drop the subject.

When he attacks Scott, right at the end, she doesn’t look at him. She looks at the crystal strung round his neck, and her face twists in anger.

—

“Loyalty crystal,” Martyn says casually, when Scott frowns at it in confusion.

He usually keeps the thing under his shirt, ashamed that it’s somehow still coming with him, but he’d been knocked into the water by a pufferfish on his way over the bridge to talk to Scott and he hadn’t fancied standing here dripping all over the place, so he’d stripped off his shirt to wring it out.

He’s here to beg his way into an alliance with Scott, and he isn’t opposed to doing everything he can to show how valuable of a partner he’d be. C’mon, who wouldn’t want to team up with the guy so loyal that he has a permanent part of his identity proclaiming it?

Scott raises an eyebrow. “Really? But you and Cleo—”

“Hey, I was always loyal to them,” Martyn says, holding up his hands. “They weren’t always loyal to me. Besides, I’ve been carrying this old thing around since Last Life, so it’s got to mean something.”

He’d spawned with it again, hanging on a piece of fishing wire around his neck, its light weight immediately noticeable. He’d frantically tucked it under his shirt, then glanced around the circle to make sure Ren hadn’t seen it.

But Ren . . . wasn’t there.

That had stopped his heart from beating, had made the crystal’s weight on his chest just that much heavier.

Ren?

If Ren wasn’t even here, then—

Why was the crystal here?

Martyn had assumed that it stuck around because he hadn’t given it to Ren. But then Ren had seemed so happy with BigB—and even once Martyn knew it wasn’t true, Ren said a ton of stuff about needing some time to be lonely and a loser so he’d kind of taken that as a rejection before he’d even tried and he hadn’t offered him the crystal.

But it stayed, even though Ren isn’t here, and now Martyn just has to live with a glaring reminder of his cowardice (and a too-sharp reminder of Ren, Ren who’s missing and so very missed) all game.

“I guess,” Scott says, and Martyn doesn’t quite believe he’s getting away with it until Scott starts talking about possible team names.

That’s his reputation, he supposes. Loyal.

—

“I actually have this pretty thing,” Martyn says, dangling the love crystal between his fingers. “Loyalty crystal. It’s stuck with me since Last Life, you know. Regular old proof that I’m the best person to team with.”

If anyone’s going to see through the lie, it’ll be Timmy.

Timmy, who was there in the Property Police when Martyn tried to abandon him time and time again for something new; Timmy, whom he declared war against and gloated over being dead; Timmy, who he lied to and manipulated to get his life back; Timmy, who he’s turned on again and again and who has watched him betray everyone around him.

Maybe he wants Timmy to argue. Maybe he wants him to realize just how wrong that statement is, force him to give up the truth. It’s become such a weight on him, so long of everyone actually believing his worst lie yet.

But he doesn’t call Martyn out.

Timmy just smiles. “Oh, yeah! Because you’re super loyal. That’s sick, dude.”

Martyn’s brain feels like it short-circuits.

“Just like a dog! This is perfect!” That doesn’t make sense. That doesn’t make sense, not when Mumbo eyes him distrustfully, when Cleo growls at him at every turn, when Scott won’t even look at him.

“Right,” mumbles Martyn, and he and Timmy get to work on their base.

It’s been like that. It’s been like that this whole time—by now, everyone has seen the crystal, has asked about it, and Martyn’s fed them the same lie and they’ve all believed it.

He doesn’t know how much longer he can go on like this. His very chest aches, the crystal seeming so much heavier than it could possibly be.

He isn’t loyal.

Why do they keep believing him?

—

The lake where the Heart Foundation has set up is the coolest place on the server, in terms of temperature. Martyn visits the stony beach with less and less frequency as the days pass, but the first night of the sixth week finds him there, idly tossing stones into the water.

It also finds Tango there, coming up behind him, the beach clacking noisily under his feet.

“How’s the loyalty crystal?” Tango asks, almost knowingly, and Martyn’s knuckles whiten around the stone clutched in his fist.

“Fine,” he says shortly.

“Mhm. You still have it, after last time?”

Martyn doesn’t bother to respond. Tango knows he has it—it’s visibly hanging over his undershirt, his green t-shirt stripped off and left on the grass with his backpack.

“Impulse told me you just murdered Scott, even though you’d been together all game. And Cleo, before that? And come on, dude. I heard all about the Southlands.”

Martyn chucks the stone, harder than intended. It splashes into the water with a loud smacking sound, creating almost a small fountain.

“I’m trying to say—”

“Well, you should stop trying to say it.”

They’re all learning, one by one, how disloyal Martyn is, made worse by how thoroughly they all believed his loyalty schtick.

It isn’t—it isn’t that he wants to betray them, not necessarily. He cares about all of them, but . . . not enough. It’s never enough to keep him, to pin him down, and Jimmy doesn’t deserve how angry he is at himself over this which is why he came down to the lake tonight, determined to not take it out on him, and there wasn’t supposed to be anyone else to interrupt his self-hatred.

“Just . . . just go away.” Martyn bites the inside of his cheek to keep any hint of a yell out of his tone, willing himself to be at least somewhat civil with Tango.

It isn’t Tango’s fault that the next words send him tipping over the edge.

It’s just Tango’s bad luck that he accidentally presses all the wrong buttons in the right order.

Tango huffs out a laugh. “Pushing me away, huh? Just like—”

He probably isn’t going to say Ren’s name, but it’s what Martyn hears, every other name stacked precariously atop it. “I get it, yeah?” Martyn cuts him off, picking up another stone and hurling it, not caring to watch where it lands. “I’m not loyal, I’ve never been loyal—can you believe that so many people have bought that? But this stupid crystal won’t leave—”

“Whoa, man—”

He tears the crystal off his throat, winds back to throw it—

A hand grabs his wrist, holding his arm in place. Martyn strains against Tango for a moment, before letting his arm go limp, the sudden energy draining from his system. It flees faster than he could imagine, leaving him exhausted and feeling oddly like he’s about to cry.

It’s stupid. He’s a grown man.

The crystal clenched in the palm of his hand is cool, smooth, fragile. He could crush it like that, just tighten his grip a little bit and watch it crack, let the pieces dig into his skin.

He doesn’t do it. He just holds it, carefully, like he knows if he drops it that his heart will shatter with it.

“Dude, I was just teasing,” Tango says, loosening his hold. “If it’s carried with you, it means something, right?”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t,” Martyn says, slumping down to sit on the shore, rocks digging into his backside. “It doesn’t mean anything. Not anymore. It’s—it isn’t a loyalty crystal.”

Tango doesn’t ask what it is, even though Martyn’s left him open for it. He doesn’t ask.

He’s been hiding it for so long, he almost wants someone to ask. He wants to share this heart-wrenching secret that he’s carried with him for so many games.

He doesn’t want to be alone anymore.

“It’s not a loyalty crystal,” Martyn says again.

“How do you know?”

Martyn snorts. “Come on, you said it yourself. I haven’t got a shred of loyalty, not for anyone.”

Tango hums. “I think you do.”

“Yeah, sure. I’m sure everyone’s figured that out—the Southlanders, Cleo, Scott—”

“What about Ren?”

Martyn chokes on whatever it was he was about to say. “I—what?”

Tango sits down beside him, shifting on the stones. “The first time, it was Ren through-and-through, right? And didn’t you give him a life in the one after that? And then you and him were always hanging out, even though you weren’t soulmates. Like, you’re totally loyal, dude! But only to one guy.”

Which is—

Which is hitting way too close to the mark for Martyn to be comfortable.

Because it isn’t a loyalty crystal, is it? It isn’t a loyalty crystal.

It’s a love crystal. It’s a love crystal that he bought with the intent to give it to Ren, and apparently his stupid love for the man is just so damn essential to who he is that it stayed with him.

There were so many nights, back in the early days of Renchanting, when Martyn would take off without a word about where he was going, packing up everything he owned in case he didn’t come back.

He always did, even if an entire day passed, even if someone offered him a bed, even if he was getting along with whoever he encountered. He always returned to Ren—and there was something about seeing the man’s eyes light up, pale and blue like the winter sky, just at seeing him.

His heart had come to skip a beat at Ren’s call, and before he knew it, he couldn’t leave his side. He never spoke a word of it to Ren—he didn’t want to make him uncomfortable—but he never left him. Even when they died, they were side-by-side.

Then, after that, when Ren held him and sobbed into his shirt after Martyn rescued him from the fire in his tower. Martyn’s skin had burned at the contact, and he’d trailed his fingers through Ren’s tangled hair and promised not to leave him.

And after that, when he and Ren encountered each other in the forest again and again, Ren’s gaze so bright and hopeful that they might be allies again that Martyn had gone along willingly, his entire soul aching at how close they were without anything tying them together but the pink crystal on the fishing wire under his shirt.

He—

He loves him. He loves Ren, and he has for forever, now.

One might argue that love is something like loyalty, or that loyalty is something like love. Whatever it is, it’s true. At the core of Martyn’s love is loyalty, at the core of his loyalty is love. Burning, aching, love.

He’s never been a loyal person. Not to anyone, ever.

Ren is different.

Martyn looks up after a moment to find Tango looking at him, a bit of a grin playing on his lips. There’s something up with his eyes—they look almost blue in the darkness, in what must be a reflection of the water’s surface or the grey beach or—or something.

“Okay,” Martyn huffs. “I get it. I’m loyal to . . . to Ren.”

“Very loyal, if you’re carrying around that crystal, still.”

“Shut up.”

“You could even say . . . in lo—”

“Shut up.” Martyn buries his head in his hands, runs his fingers through his hair. He hates this. So what, he likes—he’s . . . in love with Ren. So what? “It’s not like I can do anything about it. I never even told him.”

“Oh, he knows,” Tango says cryptically. “I’m sure he knows.”

“Sure.”

Tango doesn’t say anything else, and neither does Martyn, still trying to process the enormous weight on his chest that has suddenly slipped away, leaving him without anything to tether him down. It’s a terrifying feeling, losing the secret that he’s carried for so long.

Terrifying, but . . . not quite so lonely, somehow.

He can’t make himself live with that weight. Not anymore.

He and Tango stay there for another hour, silent in each other’s company, and Martyn holds the crystal and promises himself that if he ever sees Ren again, he’ll tell him.

He’ll tell him everything.

���

Martyn comes to in the next game, still bitter over his loss—he was invisible, Grian shouldn’t have even noticed him—and he sits up slowly, groaning as his joints pop. It’s first instinct to check for the familiar weight around his neck, and he finds it near-instantly, rolls the crystal between his fingers.

Then he looks up.

Across the circle, sitting up and scratching his beard and blinking open his pale, blue eyes—

Martyn’s breath catches in his throat.

His heart skips.

The crystal burns under his touch.

If they live through a thousand more games, there is only one man that Martyn will ever be loyal to, and that man is right there.

Right there.

Their eyes meet.

Ren.

[aquinnix]

Team Ranchers Week - Fire and Ice

Fire. 

That’s the word anyone who knew him would use to describe Tango. It encompassed his physicality, flame tips for hair that danced and crackled against his scalp, skin that was always just a few degrees below boiling, crimson eyes that flickered and glowed. It described the clothes he wore, always a mix of bright red and ash grey. But most of all, it described who he was, how he acted, how he felt. Tango was passionate, quick to latch on and consume. Quick to react, to light up and lose control. Quick to burn. 

Tango was fire. In every sense of the word, in every aspect of himself. 

Jimmy was afraid of fire. 

It had taken one too many homes from him. It had destroyed everything he had built and come to love. Fire was dangerous. Fire hurt people, people Jimmy cared about. Fire left burns and scars on his skin that still hurt if he looked at them too long. It was better to stay away, not to take that chance, snuff it out before it had a chance to grow and cause so much pain. Kill it before it could kill. 

In a way, Jimmy was ice. 

It encompassed his physicality, sharp blueish brown eyes, pale skin that was often cold to the touch. It described the clothes he wore, shades of light blue and white. But most of all, it described who he was, how he acted, how he felt. Jimmy held his cards close to his chest, hesitant to let anyone in, to give himself another thing to lose. Hesitant to assume anyone truly cared about him. Hesitant to truly trust. 

Yet here they stood, looking at each other with those mismatched eyes, without choice. But the way Tango apologized, there wasn’t that undertone of sarcasm, he wasn’t stifling a giggle. As much as Jimmy hesitated to believe it, Tango was genuine. Tango cared. Fire cared. 

Maybe fire didn’t have to burn, only melt. 

[cj-the-random-artist]

I finished it!! As promised, the Jimmy Gets Cursed comic. Except it took more of a turn for "thinking about life and how things can go in a completely different direction than you think they will and you can miss the life you had but still love the one you have" or something. Maybe at some point I'll go back and make a comic going more into detail about this particular curse that Jimmy picked up, because it's probably lingering post the unicorn-cleansing ritual. Oh, and Tango and Jimmy have a unicorn on the ranch, his name is Revenge and he's the sweetest ever.

Also!! The travelling merchants- Scott and Owen Orangejuice!! Scott and Jimmy, as is probably evident, knew each other at one point- and since I don't want to make this caption eternally long I'll save that for another post or maybe an ask for smth idk. But anyways!! You lovelies get Ranchers and Flower Husbands, apparently.

As for the comic- I know this isn't exactly what I said it would be, it's a bit shorter, the pacing isn't perfect, and there's a few big gaps between bits of story but I put too much work into it to not post it so y'all get to have it. Also, despite the fact that the backgrounds are still kind of lacking, I think they're better than they were before. I made some custom brushes for background elements and I built the ranch in minecraft to use as a reference, so some of this is better lol.

Anyways!! Enjoy whatever this is lol :D