#oh also tango's here

[imgoingtorunyouover]

i am so sorry for the 3 consecutive pings @kitsuneisi and @xmaruu11

[wasyago]

welp, didn't manage to get everything out before season 10 started, but i gotta post it one way or another so here we go! heard there was a fandom swap game going on, wanted to do a couple promts of my own :D

[icantdothistodaybruh]

yea sooooo I may have or may have not watched and instantly rewatched all kuro musicals in existence in a spawn of one week and now have roughly 40 screenshots to redraw from

I think I might be insane or something

[tagidearte]

The brain rot is so massive I'm now considering a fire watchtower au set in France, either late XX century or on the first half of the 2000s. Where vampires are of course still a thing. Mizrak takes the job as a fire watcher for summer after a conflict within his church, following Emmanuel's advice to get away for a bit. Olrox is already there working for reasons I won't share in case I ever write this. They are separated by miles, of course, their towers spread apart as they start talking in the evenings before the sun sets using walkie talkies (Olrox is on night shift, of course). Job related convos that quickly get personal. Mizrak the fools starts getting attached, maybe out of loneliness over rarely seeing other people (except the ocasional hikers or the park ranger, who would be Annette in this AU), maybe out of other desires. Olrox irks him, yet there's a weird pull in there, something he can't quite describe. Annoying as much as it is comforting. A voice, nothing else, yet what a voice it is. He wonders what body it is attached to. He starts losing focus doing prayer, ears always alert for the static of the device, the call of his name. He pretends it's because he doesn't want to be distracted in case a fire starts spreading.

Of course they have walkie talkie sex at some point before ever seeing each other, too. Long talks as well, because the show barely has them interacting yet I think their chats would be oh so fun to write.

But of course, vampires still exist. Mizrak slowly notices there are weird things happening in the forest. Something is not quite right, not quite normal. Eventually, he figures out Olrox is not quite right either.

Castlevania Nocturne is such a short show. Why am I wanting to write such a character heavy fanfic when we barely know these men's backgrounds.

[captainschaos]

still catching up with @mcyt-aro-week ! hoping to double up tomorrow to be back on schedule <3 day 2 - loveless / au

some aro tangtho writing from an old 3l/traffic au of mine ^_^ I will note that tango is referred to as a he/it phoenix, etho a he/she fae !

words: 681

-/-/-

Tango was angry at a lot of people, but he wasn't angry at Etho. For a simple reason, because at least it'd been able to get back at the fae for the firing range. But for more complicated reasons, too. Etho was trustworthy, is all. When Tango had been unfairly shoved into the line of fire, Etho'd had the decency to look sorry, at least. And when the phoenix's arrow had been able to find her heart, something was forgiven in that moment. But the others?

Tango was wondering how long it'd be until it found itself in the Crastle's line of fire again, but by his own choice.

It couldn't leave Etho though. It wouldn't. And other people might make whatever conclusions they wanted about that, but it couldn't be explained away in other people's words. They just trusted each other. They were on the fringes of things, but they were there together, they understood. The fae understood the phoenix's fires, and Tango trusted him with it.

At the moment, Tango was standing alone in its solitary, hidden base. Secret, except for Etho. It made it feel less lonely. It was easy, knowing he and Etho were the same in this kind of thing, in solitude and in easy expectations. Never betray the other. Never ask unnecessary questions. So often, they would only have to look at each other to know what the next course of action was. It was so easy.

So if Etho trusted the king, well... Tango knew Etho would never force it into the Army. But maybe the phoenix wanted to join the fae.

---

"Are you sure about him, Etho?"

Their postures were casual, but the fae knew better than to slip around the Red King.

"I'm positive Ren."

Martyn shifted with a frown nearby, but neither Ren nor Etho paid attention. This was between them, and really wasn't a situation where Etho would use all the "highness"s and "your majesty"s. It wasn't her style, anyway. And it was important to stay consistent.

The dog-king crossed his arms and gazed off into the distance, in thought, as he mumbled. "The phoenix would be a powerful ally indeed..."

"We can trust it. Tango's wanting a change anyway, he and Bdubs are..." Etho faltered, but quickly picked it back up. "There's an opportunity, if we let it in now and don't leave him high and dry."

Ren considered, and then chuckled. "You and the firebird a thing or something?"

Etho's stomach pinched, just a bit. Ah.

"Er, well not--"

"Yeah, you're real eager to trust that guy!" Martyn chimed in from his leaning against the wall. "Got a crush, Etho?"

"No, ah, I don't do that. Neither of us do that, we just--" Etho reached back and rubbed the back of her neck, his eyes flicking down to the floor to a moment. "We're not the romance types, I'll put it that way. It's just..."

What is it? He and Tango, they weren't easy to describe. They weren't romantic, and never would be, and weren't really anything else in particular either. After romance people were likely to assume queerplatonics like Bdubs and Cleo, but they weren't like that either. There was something other than friendships that were simple though, it just... evaded description. Etho knew Tango. Tango knew Etho. That was all.

"I trust him. I'm willing to put my head on the line for it, it's a good ally. We should invite it to the Red Army."

The king eyed the fae for a long moment, then nodded understandingly. Decisively.

"Then offer him a banner, Sir Etho. The phoenix shall fly red!"

Under the mask, Etho grinned in a way he knew would only get more prodding from the highly romantic king and hand if they could see. But they couldn't, and who could blame her for being excited? The fae wanted the phoenix to join. Etho would never force Tango to join the Army, but he knew it was too enticing to have the two of them together again.

Free, unkempt and indescribable, and fighting side-by-side.

[tango-but-everywhere]

Ok so I had an idea and this is the form it decided to present itself as:

VOTE FOR JOE!!! HE’S LOSING AND THERE’S AN ALLIANCE AGAINST HIM!! AND REMEMBER:

Commit to the bit.

Voters are to be treated fairly, this is a friendly competition.

Fraud.

[ID: a sketched digital comic that has three almost-panels, but they’re not closed off. It’s titled ‘Location: Tango-But-Everywhere HQ’. It features a character drawn in red, only their head and right hand visible. They have mid-length curly hair, pointed ears and large glasses. In the first panel they’re considering a piece of blue paper with the words ‘I’m done campaigning’ on it. They have a concerned, almost thoughtful look on their face. The second panel is nearly identical, except the paper has caught fire and they’re smiling. The final panel which takes up the bottom half of the page features the character with a large smile, pointing to the right where the words ‘VOTE JOE HILLS’ is visible in large, bright green text, with a smaller ‘please’ underneath it. The burning paper lies discarded to the left, and the left side of their face is lit up by the flames with orange lineart on top of the red. End ID]

[seasonal-writes]

“19% touch-starved and 81% in denial” (this one’s a little longer, so here’s the ao3 link for those who want it!) pairing: Jimmy / Tango cw: none! p.s. i wrote this back in like.. July, or so. when i didn’t really know what i was doing. but it’s one of my favorites, so i wanted to post it! enjoy. <3

Their home is almost done. Jimmy sits at the edge of the bed. He’s a little smiley, full of excitement from what they’ve accomplished, even with the sleepiness and soreness from the day kicking in. He closely watches Tango pitter about, tucking things into place and tossing stuff into the chests. He hasn’t noticed Jimmy’s staring, thankfully. Tango even seems to be happy, too. Or maybe just content, which are both good options. Heck, he’d even take plain ol’ toleration of their pairing, as long as he wasn’t completely unhappy. All Jimmy can think about is how much he likes his odds, though. A partner who, even after being taken down with him in his first death, has been so gung ho about it all. He hasn’t heard one peep about how funny or sad it is that Jimmy was the first to go, his alleged “curse” taking hold. If anything, all he remembers is Tango apologizing earlier that day in the forest. Tango apologizing. No laughter or mocking or dread. It gives Jimmy hope. He runs over the events of the day. A death, a happy coming-together, the sounds of building and the newly-raised home they’ll call their own. The little wheat farm that will keep them and the cows fed (hopefully) pops into his head too, as he makes a mental note to check for any successful sprouts in the morning. A ping of guilt hits him as he remembers the bucket from BDubs, which can be seen in a glint of silver within the chests as they’re opened and closed. He didn’t tell Tango where he got it, or more importantly, that they now share an IOU. Jimmy might’ve made the deal, but when your life is literally hooked to someone else, it ties them in. It makes concern bubble up for what will be owed down the line. Protection during battle when it inevitably arrives? Trade of important resources? For a bucket? Well, it was Bdubs. You never know what to expect from him. But he'd be so angry, Jimmy thinks. Tango would have a cow if BDubs just showed up one day and took up their deal, discovering that Jimmy made it without even asking or discussing it. He’s heard the tales of betrayal-induced rage through whispers and rumors. Jimmy knows of the flames and the fury deep within his partner. He doesn’t want to set that off—who would? Soiling such a perfect, already solid connection that feels so innocent in times like these. His stomach knots at the idea, and he finds himself taking a deep breath to keep the nerves down. “Y’know, I’m really proud of this.” Jimmy suddenly hears. He lifts his head quickly, almost as if he’s been caught staring off into space, to see Tango standing right in the middle of the room. His arms are proudly crossed, and he has a smile splayed across his face as he glances around. Jimmy takes point and does the same, looking at their little home. Dimly lit, basically windowless, but cozy. Two chests plopped hastily in the corner of the room, containing minimal resources and food. The single bed that holds him tucked into the corner, and a soft hum of moo-ing cows as a trophy in the next room. Jimmy goes to speak, but is interrupted before he can get the words out. “And I’m proud of you, too,” Tango adds, turning to Jimmy with that same bright smile, “You’ve done a lot for us today!” Jimmy looks at him for a second and lets out a—well, he can’t decide if it’s a clearing of his throat or a sheepish chuckle. It’s a mixture of both. He looks away from Tango’s gaze and nods. There is still a bit of residual guilt after thinking about his little deal with Bdubs. He wasn’t expecting him to say anything like that. “Well, I couldn’t do it by myself. Not without you,” Jimmy says, staring down at his legs as he kicks them a bit. “Oh stop; we’re the best team in this place because of you!” Jimmy’s heart flutters in his chest. He clenches his fists, not out of anger, but out of being well on his way to being overwhelmed already. Two nice compliments in, and he can barely handle it. He just smiles, though he hasn’t looked back up to Tango. “Well.. I mean.. that’s not true. You’re amazing, too. You built the house, so we’re safe tonight. I just helped out,” Jimmy says, trying his darndest to hit him with something just as nice. “Is this a compliment competition now?” Tango asks, walking over and taking a seat next to Jimmy on the edge of the bed. The heat radiates off of Tango in the close proximity, which is kinda nice against the nightfall chill setting in. It’s reassuring too, knowing they’ll never be cold and hungry. Maybe just hungry, if the rest of the server decides they’re easy pickin’s. Jimmy basks in the heat for a moment, instinctively wanting to get closer. Though, this is interrupted by Tango leaning forward and getting inches away from his face. Jimmy can’t help but bend back a little, with what he’s sure are wide eyes. “Because I’ll win.” Tango grins, reaching over and poking Jimmy’s nose. Jimmy opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He’s not used to.. this close. Tango chuckles a bit and retreats, putting his hand up and playfully ruffling Jimmy’s hair, still looking over at him. Jimmy lets out a breath to keep cool, as much as one can when you’re next to a wildfire of a man. He often struggles to admit that he doesn’t respond as easily to compliments and affection, usually keeping it to himself until he’s forced to reveal it. But.. Tango’s hand in his hair sends all the fuzzy feelings everywhere and..oh boy. The urges to either lean into his touch or run away from it are having a fist fight inside his head. He’s not sure who’s winning. “Just accept it, Jimmy. You’ve done well today. We’ve both done well, obviously, because we’re the best soulmates. But we wouldn’t be where we are without you,” he adds, moving his hand down to his shoulder and pulling him into his side slightly. Jimmy doesn’t really resist, but he does go stiff. Finally, he feels like he can speak. “Aha.. alright, alright. Well.. thanks. But I really don’t think it’s-” “Do you even know how to take a compliment?” Tango cuts him off, chuckling. “Of course I do!” Jimmy says, maybe a little too fast. Tango doesn’t respond right away, and Jimmy can only feel the movement next to him as his eyes find the floor once again. He jumps slightly when a hand lightly scoops the side of his face, pulling it to the side. Gently, but clearly without the intent of letting him get away, Tango makes Jimmy look at him. He’s fully up on the bed now, his knees pressing into the side of Jimmy’s leg as he eliminates more space between them. “Then why do you keep trying to deny it, huh?” Jimmy looks everywhere but Tango’s eyes for a moment before locking onto them when he runs out of options. It taps at his heart. They look like they’re burning all the time, which is such a jump from any eyes he’s ever seen before. There is a strange sense of pride in knowing only he gets to look in them like this now. So lovely, so easy to get lost in. And he does, before he realizes he should be speaking. He clears his throat. “I—well, I just, I just don’t.. I don’t have people sayin’ things like that to me usually,” Jimmy says, his words having less and less volume as he reaches the end. It feels silly, speaking to him with such direct eye contact, practically unable to look away now. Tango’s eyebrows furrow a bit. His fingers graze Jimmy’s forehead a bit as he brushes a bit of hair out of his eyes, slightly fixing the mess he’d made just moments ago. It sends a quick shiver down Jimmy’s spine, and Tango grins on cue, as if he can feel it too. It makes him wonder how much soulbounds can really feel, leading into sudden panic at the idea that Tango can feel his nervousness, his internal reactions. Tango’s got such a solid hold on his face, though it doesn’t hurt. And he’s sure the heat and the attention have turned his face a bright shade of red. “I’ve heard what they say about you,” Tango says, still focused on his eyes, “I know you probably don’t wanna bring it up, but I’ve heard that they think you’re some kind of bad juju.. curse-y guy.” “I kinda am.” “Jimmy!” “It’s not necessarily bad! It’s just my.. I don’t know. My thing, you know. First to go.” “Well, that’s not gonna be us,” Tango says, matter-of-factly. “Exactly. We are winners, after all.” “So now you decide to be Mr. Confident?” Jimmy chuckles a bit and shrugs. He really wasn’t ever really too worried about the curse. Not till it mattered, in the final moments. Or when it took him by surprise just before it was over. But if anything, he was usually pretty good about it. Even with the jokes and the mocking. The whispers about being the canary and that he brings death wherever he walks. Maybe it was true. But he was always gonna fight to prove them wrong. Jimmy did not believe that he was bad luck. He’s just.. Jimmy—who isn’t used to taking compliments. Or touch. Two things that Tango was apparently not holding out on, which sent him into a tizzy. “Look, what I wanted to say was that.. I don’t think that about you,” Tango says. Jimmy’s jokey smile drops to something more genuine. He can feel his heart squeeze. Tango’s eyes hold something very truthful, and who wouldn’t believe a sight like that? “I’ve never thought that. Even when we died today. If anything, it was totally my fault and.. yeah. I know we’re past that now, but..” “I told you it was alright, Tango,” Jimmy says, habitually tipping his head to the side a bit with a smile. In tipping his head, Tango doesn’t move his hand. He cups the side of his head, catching him without hesitation. It feels foreign to Jimmy. He almost wants to try and adjust himself again and get out of it. Relax, he thinks to himself, it’s just Tango… your soulmate, Tango. And then his heart rate picks up again. “I know you did! Just.. I’m happy it’s us. I’m happy it’s you. I don’t think we’re gonna mess this up. We’re in this til the end, you and me. No one else.” At that, Jimmy feels himself start to melt. He’d been doing so well at keeping it together, but something in him just gives out. Tango holding his face, talking so sweetly and calmly. It’s like a dream, glowing with torchlight and the slightest shine of moonlight from hidden crevices keeping them in each other’s vision as night settles into her role. A rather goofy, maybe even starstruck smile sneaks onto his face. “We’re gonna be alright,” Jimmy says quietly. “Yeah.” And it’s true. They will be alright, for now. Even with secrets and “curses” and hopefully more of those beautiful hair ruffles too. Jimmy really hopes for those. But they’re gonna do it together. That’s the key word, it seems: together. Teamwork. Soulmates. He feels so very lucky. The two of them, not necessarily against the world, but against the odds. Seconds pass in silence. Tango’s thumb brushes lightly back and forth across Jimmy’s cheek, and neither of them are quite sure when their free hands intertwined with each other, but they’re all tangled fingers now. It feels.. nice. Really nice. And he’s got that terrible feeling of wanting to just get all of the touch and none at the same time. But everything sounds so good, like he’s stuck a toe in and wants to dive deeper. More hugs, more anything. There’s those deep urges back again, but stronger. Yet, it makes him nervous. There was so much inner conflict, all because he just wasn’t used to relationships like this. “Hey, Jimmy?” “Hm—Oh, yeah?” With a swift, rather smooth drop of his Jimmy’s cheek, Tango lurches forward and wraps his arms around him. He immediately buries his face into Jimmy’s neck and shoulder, sending him rocking back a bit before Jimmy can even respond. Meanwhile, Jimmy has gone into statue mode. His shoulders tense. He does the automatic reciprocation, awkwardly wrapping his arms around Tango as well. But his own hugging feels.. wildly different than how Tango holds him. The way Tango wraps his arms around Jimmy’s torso so tight, like he never wants to let go. He can feel him put all of his weight into the embrace, and if Jimmy would have been ready for it, maybe he wouldn’t have immediately stiffened up. He hopes Tango can’t feel it. He doesn’t want to make him upset, or like he’s ungrateful for the sudden affection. He thinks for a moment about pulling away, readying an apology. Maybe that’d make this easier. But he refuses. He’s not gonna let this win. He forces himself to breathe, first off. The heartbeat in his chest slows slightly, even if his lungs and heart feel like they’ve got minds of their own. He closes his eyes, and thinks solely about the warmth. Jimmy was right, he’s a raging wildfire trapped underneath skin. Perfectly sized space heater, all to himself. It feels like playing with fire, even knowing that this body in his arms could burst into flames when provoked. There is odd curiosity in it, giving him just a little bit of distraction. As his shoulders and chest slump slightly, he can feel Tango lean into him, seizing the opportunity to get even closer. Jimmy can’t help but chuckle a bit, tipping his head down into Tango’s hair as his fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt. He grips him tightly, overcome with a slowly building need to be as close as possible. Jimmy knows the world will be so oh-so-cold if he lets go now. He wonders why he never had someone like this sooner. The nerves in his back come alive as Tango softly rubs little circles. His fingers dance. Jimmy melts yet again. As they quietly embrace, breathing each other in and learning each crevice and nook of the opposing body, peace finds them. The exhaustion of their first day is coming in full force, and Jimmy can’t help but start to feel a little sleepy. His eyelids grow heavy, and his head seems to lean further onto Tango’s. A soft giggle erupts from his chest, and he feels Tango’s breath through his shirt as his shoulders shake a little. “What’re you laughing at?” Jimmy mumbles into his hair. “Finally got’cha,” Tango teases, obviously referring to the absolute puddle he has turned Jimmy into. So he can feel it. Jimmy doesn’t open his eyes. He just smiles. “Yeah. You got me.”

[the-jam-to-the-unicorn]

Olena gave an interview to BBC

[jaysworlds]

doc, extremely calmly: oh no, this is certain death

and then he doesnt die <3

[svecdraws]

Someone who doesn't watch any mcyt suggested (because I post about like nothing but them) that I spin a random palette generator and pick a character from that. So naturally I went for my comfort character, in honor of his new skin.

Yes, I'm aware it doesn't match his skin perfectly. I write a lot for Tango (some of which will eventually be posted, once it's finished out) and have a lot of lore for his character established. Changing some details when I draw him just doesn't feel right anymore. But I hope you appreciate this anyway!

Background inspired by photos of ice caves in, ironically, Iceland.

...I forgot to draw FUCKING EYEBROWS-

[stevenose]

disarm (18+)

contains: steve x reader; reader with a vagina; reader is called ‘girl’ once; sexual tension; drunk!flirty!steve; lil bit of inspection kink; size kink; teasing; no smut just whorish vibes

author note: i hope you folks like it! i won’t be doing a part 2 of this one, but hope you enjoy the tension :)

Steve’s always saying weird shit to you when he’s drunk.

You know he’s just uninhibited. That if he were sober he’d be so embarrassed. You keep telling yourself that, at least.

The first time he approaches you like this, he asks, “What color underwear you got on?”

You humor him, tipsy yourself. “Take a guess.”

Steve really looks like he’s thinking, dilated pupils staring deep into yours. “Red?”

“Nope.” you can’t stop looking at him, and he isn’t looking away either. “They’re blue, actually.”

“How’d you know that’s my favorite color?” he asks, voice low, leaning forward to rest his palm on your knee.

“Oh, you think I wore them for you?”

“I wish.”

He’s easily distracted and the conversation goes no further. It’s easy to shrug him off. You know he’s a whore, anyway - have to hear about his most recent date every time you see him.

But then it happens again.

Steve stops you in the hallway at the next party, his warm hand curling around your bicep gently. Makes you stop walking to look at him.

“Havin’ fun?” he asks. His t-shirt is cut low - your eyes are drawn to the dark patch of hair on his chest.

“I think so.”

He grins, borderline diabolical. Teeth straight and white, blunt edges that could bite bruises into your skin. “There’s a free bedroom upstairs if you wanna have more.”

“Huh?”

“I said -“ he leans in towards you, until the tip of his nose touches yours, “- there’s a free bedroom upstairs if you want to have more fun.”

He doesn’t stay very serious, however. He giggles, pulls away from you and winks before continuing on his way. You roll your eyes after him, trying to brush off the way he made your stomach flip. He apparently doesn’t fuck without a first date, anyway.

And then it just sort of keeps happening. Sometimes he’d just stare at you, mouth slightly agape, watching you from the other side of the room. Or he’d make sure his palm presses firmly against the small of your back as he “squeezes past” you to grab another drink, despite there being a five foot clearance.

One night, when he’s more drunk than usual - something to do with a bad week at work - he goes a lot farther than he has. He finds you in the corner of the living room, looking at the lines in your own palm.

“Hey,” he says, quite loudly, startling you.

When you look up, he’s extremely close to you. Eyes soft, but staring into yours. He smells like maraschino cherries, no doubt from the strawberry daiquiris he won’t admit he loves. “Hi,” you breathe, trying to look at his eyes, but they keep moving languidly from your eyes to your lips to your chest. Your breasts peak out from the scoop-neck of the baby tee you’re wearing. And, okay, it’s baby blue - you may have worn it just to see what he’d do.

“Can I help you?” you ask.

He nods, nose slanting downwards towards your tits. “Y’never really wear stuff like that.”

You shake your head. “Not really.”

“Why not?”

You grin. “Because pervs like you will stare.”

He scoffs. “That’s ‘stactly why you shouldn’t be wearin’ it here.”

Your eyes narrow at him. Now he’s just being annoying. “Oh, are you mad?”

“A little.” He licks his lips, tongue stained red from the mixer. “You should only be wearin’ somethin’ like that when you’re gonna get fucked.”

Your eyes widen, heart hammering in your chest, enough to feel it in your throat. He’s never been so forward before. And he’s backing you into the wall, trapping you in - very deliciously.

He tilts his head, highlighted hair bobbing over his forehead. “Are you gonna get fucked tonight?”

You swallow hard, blood icy cold. You’re not used to this tango, not with him. “You tell me.”

Steve blinks like he’s also shocked, goes a little slack jawed. He looks down at your tits, then back up. “I think you should get fucked tonight.”

Your hand clenches around your drink, threatening to fall to the floor. You’re weak, sore and needy between the legs.

Perhaps he’s willing to make an exception for the date rule for you.

“Will I?”

“With tits like those?” He nods down again. “Bet you’ve got the sweetest nipples. You like havin’ ‘em bit? Sucked?”

You wonder if he feels the heat radiating off of your face. “Steve,” you say, trying to give him a warning. You can’t breathe, knees beginning to shake. “What kind of friend asks that?”

His jaw clenches, then unclenches. “So you just see me as a friend?”

You bite your cheek. “That’s what you are, aren’t you? Or do you know something I don’t?”

“I -“

You’re both startled by the sound of champagne popping, shrieks and woops breaking you out of whatever you were just entangled in. And Steve, so easily distracted, groans and marches towards the kitchen, shouting, “I told you to take that shit outside!”

You inhale deep, thumping chest caving in, collarbones turning sharp. It’s suddenly so cold without him in front of you. You run a hand through your hair and look around, spotting Robin grinning at you from ear to ear. You roll your eyes at her and move through the living room to get some water and air.

You wonder if he’ll even remember when he’s sober. If he’ll apologize for asking something so insane. But he either doesn’t remember or wants to forget, because when you’re back to return tapes two days later he acts completely normal. It isn’t a bad thing - it’s a bit fun to play with him in such a non-serious way. Though you do find his hands gripping the next tape you rent for a bit too long, shoves your change into your hand and lets his palm linger against yours.

Another get together - you can hardly call it a party when there’s only ten people present - brings you back to his apartment two weeks later. It’s much more low key and he, in turn, drinks much less. He still gets drunk, though - laughing loudly, freckled neck on display. Does things he gives Robin shit for. You laugh beside her when she scoffs at him, throwing a pillow across the way to hit him in the back of the head.

“I’m gonna get a drink,” she says. “Do you want one?”

You tell her you’re okay and she’s off, leaving the couch beside you empty. Which Steve notes. Immediately.

“What’s a place like you doin’ in a girl like this?”

“You invited me,” you remind, the couch dipping as he sits beside you.

“Ohhh. And why’d I do that?”

You hum, trying to suppress a smile. “I don’t know. You must like me.”

He narrows his eyes. “You know I do.”

You’re already getting horny again. “Because I leave big tips for you?”

“And what do you know about big tips, huh?”

You laugh, a little shrill, feeling very much on the spot. Then he grabs your hand, pulling it up against his. You assume he’s comparing the size - a clear flirting tactic - and you watch him with much adoration as he examines them together. His first knuckle is able to come down on your finger tips and he grins. “You’ve got small hands.”

“Maybe yours are just freakishly big.”

“Wanna know what else is?”

Which, truly, in any other situation this would be funny. But it so isn’t. His words are deathly serious to you.

“Well, it can’t be your brain.”

Steve scoffs again. “Oh, funny.”

Out of nowhere, you’re doused with something cold. Robin’s tripped on the rug, spilling her wine on you. You gasp just as she says, “Oh, shit!”

“Rob-in!” Steve sounds more than exasperated with her, but it’s hard to take it seriously when he’s slurring.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry - I got - I tripped - with my big clown feet - oh my god, are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” you promise, despite the huge red stain on your white shirt. It’s still dripping down you, onto your skirt. Drenched. “Uh, let me go to the bathroom.”

“I’ll help,” Steve says, stumbling when he stands, helping you off the couch. You’re certain he won’t be much help but you accept his assistance anyway.

You’ve noticed how Steve gets into these dad modes. Like, one time Robin choked on a lemon seed that was in her water and Steve wouldn’t let her drink without him checking her cup for two months afterwards. And there was the time that Eddie, clumsier than Robin, tripped and scraped his knee, and Steve acted like Eddie was five. So now it’s your turn, ushered into his bathroom while he props you against the counter and scrounges around for a towel.

“It’s okay,” you say, “I’m just wet.”

“I got it,” he assures, running a washcloth under the tap. You’re sure he thinks he’s helping, as much as he can when he’s inebriated, but you’re very certain a wet washcloth won’t help. He swats your hands away when you try to take it from him, and he starts blotting the wine.

His hair in your face smells fruity, like his hairspray. “Steve, I don’t think this is doin’ much.”

His brows are knitted in concentration. “‘s almost out.”

You look down. It is not.

But you let him feel important anyway. Watching as he dabs and dabs and dabs over your sternum. His breath tickling your neck. And now that the shock has worn off, you’re getting turned on again. By his attention, how he’s trying to help, how his big fucking paws are right there. You’re practically begging god to make him do something when his hands start wandering.

Steve brings the towel over your breast, blotting as usual, then slowing. Like it’s clicking what he’s doing. And then he presses a little harder, lingers for a while. His palm touching you more than the cloth. His eyes drift up to yours as he moves towards the other. And instead of blotting, his hand cups it.

You simply let him.

The cold has made your nipples perk up under your bralette. Steve’s thumb swipes over the hardened nub. You both stare at each other, willing the other to do more, but it’s left in a stalemate. Steve throws the washcloth in the sink, lets his hand slide over your heart.

“Heartbeat’s so fast,” he observes softly. “What’s that all about, huh?”

You swallow hard. “Lot of excitement.”

His eyes drift down. “I can tell.”

You take a big breath, looking away from him. “Do you have something I could borrow?”

“Like what?”

“Like, a shirt?”

Steve blinks, looking sad. “Oh. Yeah, yeah, prob’ly.”

As you walk behind him to his room, you decide you’ll throw him a bone whenever the opportunity arises. You certainly can’t have him thinking you don’t like his attention. You watch him clumsily rifle through his closet before he finds a black sweater that’ll match your skirt well enough.

It makes you dizzy how it smells like him, even freshly laundered. “Thank you.”

“Mhm.” Steve simply stands in front of you, hands on his hips, lips pulled in tight. Looking at you like he’s thinking really hard.

You bite your lip, heartbeat fastening again. You turn from him to place the shirt on his bed, which seems to snap him out of whatever stupor he’s in. He clears his throat and turns to leave, but you call after him.

“Steve?”

He turns, brows furrowed. “Yeah?”

You inhale deep before slowly peeling your shirt off of you. Taking your time, letting it catch on the curve of your breasts. You let it slip to his floor and you continue watching him. Watching his chest rise and fall rapidly, his nostrils flaring, chestnut eyes staring right at your bra-clad chest. You’re so hot you’re beginning to sweat - and then you reach behind you to unclasp your wet bralette.

Steve’s jaw drops comically slow as it joins your shirt on the floor. You can’t help but to smile.

“What do you think?” you ask quietly.

He shakes his head slowly. “Think you’ve been holdin’ out on me.”

You press your tits together with your arms as you shrug at him, turning around to fetch the sweater he’s given you. You figure it’ll be enough for him to know you’re wearing his shirt, chest bare underneath, but then he says, “Your skirt is wet, too.”

You don’t turn to look at him as you grab the fabric, leaning forward for it. “Don’t suppose you have one for me to borrow?”

You didn’t even hear him walking up behind you. You’re suddenly pressed into the bed, his hand pushing down on the space between your shoulder blades to keep you against the mattress. Your breath hitches, stomach flipping. You feel how hard he is against your ass, and he grinds once before sliding down to kneel behind you.

“What are you doing?” you breathe.

“Checkin’ out the damage.” His hands push your skirt up, up, up, until it rests above your ass. You feel his breath fanning across the back of your thighs. “Y’know,” he continues casually, “since you said you’re wet.”

Your breaths turn shallow. Steve’s hands, warm and soft, run up the backs of your thighs slowly. You part them for him. Heat rushes to your face when he laughs behind you, but he doesn’t say anything. Must just be overjoyed that you’re letting him do this.

His hands move to your hips, squeezing them slightly before tucking his fingers under the waistband of your underwear. You’re so dizzy it almost makes you sick - but you wait patiently as he slowly pulls them down.

“Oh, you weren’t kidding,” he observes quietly. Lets your underwear hang around your knees. “All this for me?”

“Yes,” you whine. “Been - you’ve been working me up for weeks.”

“I know.”

You want to call him a bastard, but you’re stunned into silence when he parts your folds. The sound it makes is embarrassing to you, but Steve coos at it. “You’ve got such a pretty pussy. Knew you would.”

You exhale shakily. “Steve….”

“Fucked my fist to it,” he admits. “But I didn’t think it’d be so tiny.”

And then one of his fingers presses against your hole. Just enough. You short circuit, electric running through you, knees going weak. Steve’s free hand steadies them, fingers splayed out along your skin.

“Can you even get any fingers in here?” he mumbles. Circles your little hole, your eyes crossing. “Know your hands are so tiny, too.”

“No,” you force yourself to say. “Not really.”

He sounds contemplative. “Just one of mine would split you in two.”

His finger trails down, resting at your swollen clit for a few short moments before he pulls away, yanking your underwear back up.

You feel more than upset. Devastated that he’s pulled away. You want to grab him, cunt hurting from the teasing with no relief.

“Steve-“

“You know I don’t fuck without a date first,” he grins. As if he didn’t just ruin your life with whatever that was. Like he didn’t just turn you into his cock-dumb whore. Jesus Christ, if he told you to spend the rest of the night topless, you would. “So here’s what’s gonna happen, okay?”

Then he’s back, leaning over you, pushing you into his bed. His cock really straining against his jeans while he presses into your ass. He puts his lips right up against your ear. “You’re gonna get dressed ‘nd we’re gonna party, ‘kay? Then tomorrow I’m gonna pick you up and take you for breakfast.” He ruts himself into you and you moan. “Sorry, sweetheart. ‘m usually a dinner guy but I can’t wait that long to have you. How’s nine sound?”

“You… there’s n-no way you’re going to be up at nine.”

He scoffs. “‘ve got an alarm clock.”

You press your ass back into him. “You’ll forget.”

“Haven’t forgotten you so far.” Grinds against you again.

“You remember when you’re sober?”

“Honey. You’re all I’ve been able to think about.”

Then he’s off of you, leaving your tits pressed to his mattress, overwhelmed. He walks towards his desk while you desperately try to stand - your legs are still shaking. Your fingers curl around his sweater just as he comes back, arm marked up with a pen.

BREAKFAST AT 9 WITH HOTTIE :)

“See? Won’t forget.”

You’re still not so sure - you’ll have to wait and see. As you finally start pulling his sweater on, he grabs your bra, tucking it into his back pocket. “I’ll wash it for you,” he says, patting it.

“Yeah? After you cum in it?”

Steve smiles deviously. “You wanna watch me do it?”

[solsays]

Lifers x Crane Wives

I saw someone comment on a life series TikTok or something to try and pair all of the lifers to a crane wives song, without repeating songs. so obviously I spent an hour doing it

Grian—Tongues & Teeth (self explanatory if you’ve EVER heard this song)

Scar—Steady, Steady (this whole song is about how their partner is walking out but they still want to be “wild and free” which is just SO Scar coded)

Tango—Ancient History (he keeps teaming up with Skizz and I feel like this song vibes with that, it also just feels very Tango)

Skizz—Icarus (this man always gives himself up for his teammates I swear, and he fuels them to keep going. It also says “oh brother, brother” which feels like Skizz talking to any of his teammates to me)

Impulse—Allies or Enemies (Impulse has been very iffy on a lot of his alliances throughout the seasons, especially in third life and with the amount of playing all sides that man has done this songs feels right)

Cleo—The Glacier House (this. this is literally just her leaving Fairy Fort. The song is talking to/about her from probably Lizzie’s perspective, but like the last line is 100% as if Cleo was speaking)

Bdubs—Unraveling (Bdubs relies so heavily on his teammates, and when he doesn’t have that stability *cough* Etho *cough* he just kinda doesn’t know what to do so this song fits)

Mumbo—Keep You Safe (this man is by no means an aggressive/reckless player [see: Joel or Martyn] and he feels like he’s just here for the vibes and honestly? Love that for him. This song is about fear not keeping you safe and watching your friends run high risks, which just is very accurate to how Mumbo plays this series. I also feel like he could fit Rockslide when he goes red cause he goes from standstill to “drop dead sprint” in terms of aggression)

Lizzie—Shallow River/New Colors (Lizzie is the only one I put as two because both of these songs are just so fitting. Shallow river—“wasted all for the title, wasted all for the crown” reminds me of Lizzie trying to kill Scott and ending up dying herself instead. I also feel like parts of it could be dead Lizzie talking to Joel, the only person who is really mourning her. New Colors—“don't tell me that I can't, I need this“ and “I give up my air, to breathe” also feel very accurate with how she is trying so hard and just keeps failing )

Jimmy—Canary in a Coal Mine (no further context needed, we all know Timmy)

Scott—Little Soldiers (this is very flower husbands, but also just feels like Scott looking back on the last seasons including Pearl, Jimmy, Martyn, all his reluctant exes. Also this man is the watchers’ like least favorite person ever and this gives that vibe)

Pearl—Ribs (i changed this from New Discovery because Ribs is entirely about somewhat angrily protecting and helping yourself because nobody else would, and it really strikes me as Pearl with the some things having been good (Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss) and some being bad (divorce quartet))

BigB—Not the Ghost (this man is so incredibly odd, he just constantly feels like he is being haunted by the watchers and just going about his life, he is the human personification of gaslight and we love that for him)

Martyn—The Hand That Feeds (he HATES the watchers with every ounce of his being, and with Ren gone I think this guy’s only purpose is just to spite them)

Joel—Sleeping Giants (go listen to it. That’s all there is to it, it just feels very Joel-ish, this lad is absolutely fucking mental)

Ren—Once & for All (this song feels like war and being betrayed, and Ren has been betrayed so much so it just fits. I mean come on “my blood’s forever on your hands” tell me that isn’t 100% something Ren would say)

Gem—Show Your Fangs (Girlboss moment, we love Geminislay. This woman is not someone to be underestimated and this song very clearly says that so it’s very Gem in my head. She doesn’t have enough lore yet to make it angsty but ONE DAY)

Etho—Never Love An Anchor (I can’t explain it, this song just has Etho vibes. I mean “It’s a secret I keep tucked inside my chest” just seems very him, I can’t really tell you why)

[rjchocobi]

﹙🍃 𓂃 satan's right-hand man — lee haechan ! ﹚

♡ . . . synopsis ; you've known lee donghyuck your whole life, admired him from afar for half as long and yet, why does it take a cross-major project to get you to properly interact?

♡ . . . pairing ; computer science major! haechan × multimedia major! reader

♡ . . . genre ; non-idol au, college au (? very inaccurate portrayal of the education system haha). a few curses flying here and there.

“I don't think I can do it. There's way too many people around.”

You follow the tan-skinned target dressed in baggy jeans and a varsity jacket as he walks past your table, out of the cafeteria billowing murmurs of conversation. His brown hair flops down on his eyes, wired earphones making him oblivious to the world.

Or, in this case, you and your friend's schemes.

“Y/n, just breathe,” Gyuri chuckles, typing away on her laptop. “Most people here are too occupied with their own shit to care about yours.”

“Astounding analogy, truly,” you deadpan at the Literature major who shrugs, leaning back on the chair. The crop top you'd worn was sticking to your sweating back, uncomfortably so. “And sure, nobody would be curious as to why I'm walking up to the newly appointed captain of the soccer team. The last time someone asked him out, they went viral!”

“Hey, you're asking him out for an entirely different reason. Unless, you have a thing for bratty jocks with pretty faces?”

You couldn't stop the roll of your eyes. She was right, until you account for his soft brown eyes, tech nerd tendencies that came off as way too appealing than they had any business being and a presence that everyone heard yet missed when he wasn't around.

Oh god, you really were hopeless.

Gyuri pipes up next, looking away from the screen before her, “Also, it takes about five minutes to make it to the front gate. So, unless you have any other place in mind to ask him before the first game tomorrow, you should be running.”

The world screeches to a halt. Your eyes flicker to the wall clock, as you stand up immediately. “Shit, there's no way I'll make it to him before his usual bus leaves in these shoes!”

“Should I be concerned that you know his bus route?” Gyuri raises an inquisitive brow.

You muster your deadliest glare, grabbing for things and shoving them in your bag. “Don't make it sound creepy, weirdo. I used to take the same bus before we moved.”

“Eh, tomato to-mah-to,” Gyuri cocks her head. “Now, chop chop. You have precisely two minutes on the clock.”

Taking a deep breath, you try (and fail, evidently) to settle your stomach which had been dancing the tango on a loop for the whole day. “I'll see you later. And thanks for the coffee!”

Gyuri throws you double thumbs up. Whether in acceptance or encouragement, you don't have the time to figure out.

When you manage to stumble through the crowd going the opposite way, past the gates of your college campus and to the nearest bus stop, it's been nearly ten minutes. With your heart pounding against your throat, you scan the listing on your phone, “Let's see... Cheongpa 2GA, Cheongpa...”

“It got cancelled today. There was a big crash by the Hangang road.”

Your head shoots up at the distantly familiar voice, so fast that you're surprised you dodge a whiplash. He stands leaning against the pole upholding the overhead shade, a small smile on his face.

Inhaling sharply, you nod and speak after having reinstalled basic social skills. “Right. Uh, are there any other buses going the same way?”

“Not if you want to reach home past ten,” he muses. “I'll catch the next ride to the subway and take the train.”

The need to know why he was telling you this registered a little too late.

"Shouldn't you be looking for the Bogwang side buses, though?” he asks.

You nearly trip on the transition curb, going to stand beside him. “I'm visiting family in Cheongpa. Anyway, it's kind of weird that you know where I live, isn't it?”

He's still staring you down as he says, “Not as weird as you and your friend memorizing my schedules or tracking my hourly whereabouts.”

For the second time in the span of five minutes, you look up at him, finding the corners of his warm gaze crinkling with mirth. You feel your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “I—”

One syllable doesn't make it out your mouth before he's humming in approval. About what, you're none the wiser. “Yeah, you guys are not as quiet as you may think.”

Humiliation burns red across the apples of your cheeks and creeps up your neck. If Lee Donghyuck had managed to overhear, how many other within earshot knew all about your business?

You settled for an indignant response. “Hey, it's rude to eavesdrop.”

Donghyuck chuckles, an airy sound but still low; lower than the pitches you know his laughter reached. “Or I just have really great hearing. So, what is it you wanted to ask me so badly?”

You catch up on the teasing lilt. “What if I say it's a love confession?”

Your flippant reply has him lose his cool for half a second yet you still consider it a win. He shoves his phone back in his pocket, “Doubt it. Setting aside the massive stroking my ego will receive, you don't seem like the type to lose your mind over asking someone out.”

“Touché,” You mumble, your next words put on hold due to the people near your surging forward as the next bus arrived.

Donghyuck walks forward, so at ease you think he had taken and discarded your conversation in the matter of seconds. Before your heart could drop to the depths of hell, he looks over in confusion. “You’re not coming?”

You follow him wordlessly, hanging around the back of the bus. Donghyuck stands near you, chuckling when he sees you're unable to hold onto the handlebars above.

“Too high for you?”

“Shut up before I stomp on your feet. I can assure you it hurts like a bitch,” you threaten and he thinks you look about as menacing as a kitten.

“Enlighten me then, Y/n. What made you stalk me on a Tuesday?” he asks instead, moving a little closer as the bus lurches forward.

Ignoring the zoo of butterflies in your gut, you sigh. “Remember the project that's supposed to be thirty percent of the semester's final grade? Well, my assignment goes way off my area of expertise."

He hums in acknowledgement, full lips parting in an 'o' of realization as he catches on. "And what do you expect me to do?"

Ever the overthinker, you translate that to him wanting nothing to do with this. You drop your head, eyes trained on the yellow wedges you'd put on for the day. It had given you nothing but blisters. That's what trying new things, going out of comfort zones get you—a reality check.

You voice is too small for your liking, "I was thinking of making a videogame. Nothing fancy, just the barebones of an interactive interface. I thought if I get a computer major on board, we could both submit the project and present different aspects of the process."

The split second of silence before he speaks is gut-wrenching. “Killing two birds with one stone. It's a smart idea.”

You glance up to see a leisurely grin on his face. Is it weird that the loosest definition of a compliment from him is throwing you into a spiral? Probably.

“So? Will you work on it with me?” you ask, all too eager.

He pretends to think it over, hand on his chin and everything. Then, “Say 'please' first.”

For a second, you're rendered speechless. “What?"

“What?” He blinks owlishly, parroting you. “If a cute girl asks nicely, maybe I'll agree.”

Your jaw slackens. “Lee Donghyuck, you are a menace to society.”

“Because I ask for my fair share? I see how it is.” He pouts mockingly, running a hand through his fluffy hair.

“You get to present the project, too! That's a fifty-fifty bargain unless you have a better idea for partner-work that assures you an easy A,” you cross your arms over your chest. You may be a hopeless case of anxiety and lackluster connections but you're not that desperate. And who does he think he is, anyway?

Donghyuck chuckles, head bobbing. “Not nearly enough. If I'm doing this, I want you to do two things for me.”

You nearly rethink your decision for even asking him in the first place. But acting like his personal errand girl is not worse than showing up to class with a half-assed project. “Nothing that entails me publicly making a fool out of myself more than I already do.”

He holds his hands up in surrender. “I won't ask for anything like that. Who do you take me for?”

You eye him up and down. “Right now? Satan's right-hand man.”

Donghyuck smirks, poking his tongue onto the inside of his cheek. “Alright, then. Satan's right-hand man says you must first ask him politely and second... go out on a date with him.”

[theminecraftbee]

Grian’s unsurprised, when he heads back into Decked Out, to find Tango in the waiting room. He’s lying on the marble floor, one hand pressed against the moss, staring up at the fake sun shining down. In here, away from the much dimmer, bluer light of the citadel, he looks pale. Far too gaunt and skinny. His eyes seem a little sunken-in.

He’s smiling, though. There’s wonder in those sunken eyes. He keeps on looking around with something so fragile in his expression. Grian doesn’t really want to interrupt, but…

“You know you’re not supposed to stare at it, right?”

“Oh! Uh, Grian!” Tango says.

“‘Course, we made it so it wasn’t actually the bright bit. Can look at the sun all you want from here.”

“Yeah,” agrees Tango. “I sure can.”

“Touch grass,” Grian continues.

“I mean, technically it’s moss,” Tango says, drawing his hand away almost self-consciously. Grian swears in his head. Stupid. He wasn’t trying to…

“There were a lot of us hanging out,” Grian says. “It’s a nice room, isn’t it? All fun and cheerful.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it sure is,” Tango says. “Hey, Grian—”

“Nope. Not with me. Not gonna bother you about it. Just—you made something really cool, Tango. Plus, it was nice to see you. Haven’t seen you not in a hole in the ground for a while, you know? This isn’t quite the same thing, but since we’ll all be waiting in here for a while anyway…”

Slowly, Tango puts his hand back on the moss “Don’t worry. I’m happy,” Tango says. “I’m really, really happy. Hey, tomorrow, do you think just as many…”

“Tango, don’t be stupid. There might even be more of us.”

Tango sighs. It’s like some tension Grian can’t even name has left him. It should be nice, but there’s also something almost unsettling about it. The amount of contentment on Tango’s face—well, then again, Grian would be that kind of happy too, if he’d finished something that took over a year, and then it worked and everyone loved it.

“Yeah. That’s good. This is all really good. Yeah, I’m happy with this.”

But there’s something about how he’s showing it.

“Eat some more food while you’re up here. Scar’s been worried about you, and for some ungodly reason he’s been making it my problem. Do you hear me? Do you know how annoying it is when Scar makes something your problem?”

“Trust me, I know. Who else do you think he keeps bothering?”

“Fair enough. And don’t break our queue system! We worked really hard! I think Etho would kill you.”

Tango laughs. There are tears in his eyes, Grian realizes.

“I’m just—it’s so bright in here. And you all were laughing so much. And loved it so much. I’m so… happy. I’m so happy.”

Grian softens. “Yeah. Be proud.”

Tango beams. Grian goes back out of the waiting room. Something about it feels private, like he hadn’t been meant to intrude. He’ll dissect all that later. He’d just wanted to check in, since he’s here to add his decorations to the many cubbies everyone has decorated. Everyone really does love it. Tango’s going to be busy; between maintenance and everyone wanting to talk to him about what they’re doing, he’s never going to get a moment of peace alone. Might as well give him a little bit while he still can.

It feels important, somehow, for Tango to lie there and bask in it, in the moments he can.

[betweenlands]

Jimmy Solidarity's Guide To Dying First

Congratulations and/or sorry that happened! Dying first in a series is always really rough, and people are probably going to feel bad they ended your series early. Unless you're me. They don't feel bad about killing ME off first, which is probably why I beef it a lot.

Anyway, here's some specific ways you might have your death invalidated or made about me:

Are you new to this series? Oh my god I am so sorry. The Watchers are about to be SO weird about you and I honestly hope I die next so I can take some of the heat off you.

Did we die in the same incident? Expect the Watchers to say I died first anyway.

Are you Lizzie? Expect the Watchers to say it's because of our ~sibling bond~.

Are you Scott or Tango? Expect the Watchers to make up something about our whirlwind romance dooming us both.

Were you TEAMED with Scott or Tango? See above, except it's actually because my "curse" is super contagious or something.

Were you teamed with ME? See previous two points.

Are you Pearl or Grian? Expect the Watchers to say it was totally, definitely because of wanting to ensure the same person didn't win twice, even at the cost of the canary curse being broken.

Are you Martyn? Same as above but also -- Lol. Nerd.

What else should you expect?

You're going to start growing feathers. Sorry! The Watchers are going to try to "canary-code" you too, so they don't have to stop being weird about me.

The Watchers loooove to take credit for things that were barely even them. If anything happened involving the two of us for five or more seconds, it's a sign that I "cursed" you to die first.

If you're really lucky, the Watchers will make up some nonsense about toxic fumes or something that ensures I still get the brunt of their weirdness.

See you soon, probably, because for some reason Martyn has decided to cater directly to the Watchers and make it his sole goal in life to ensure I permadie as soon as humanly possible!

Love or whatever, Jimmy Solidarity

[tubbytarchia]

Thoughts on the dynamic between TIES Tango and BB Jimmy? Or even the silly rivalry they have in SL? There’s just so much adorable fluffy potential there and I’m just 💭

- 🧚🏼‍♀️

YOU'RE RIGHT THERE IS AND I LOVE THEM. SL ranchers are SO cute and precious its off the charts. Limited Life however...

Ok drawing that hurt a bit so I'm immediately following up with this

Limited Life is so carefree in general it's SO fun and probably the least angst material out of any of the Life series to me (of course there is still plenty, can't underestimate the traffic fandom's ability to find angst in everything) including Tango and Jimmy. They're so fun and you're right that it's a lot of fluff potential, mostly because Jimmy being a "bad boy" is so funny. BUT THE, MAN. TH The fact that this is the one after DL, after Jimmy so desperately wanted to apologize to Tango for how they went out and who knows if he got to do that or not. I love the idea of them reuniting in some temporary afterlife game or dark void following their deaths, but also what if they didn't get to talk... maybe it was only Tango's distant messages "you're still here? It's over. Go home. Go" that reached him and then he just didn't dare to talk about it other than the one time he instinctually called him "rancher" again. I can't help but be filled with angst when I think about LimL ranchers but I trust that where there is angst, hurt/comfort is sure to follow.... If not then I just die I guess

The bad boy sunglasses are very convenient to hide the look with which he gazes upon Tango from a distance... But then oop Tango hops through the nether portal on top of bad boy mansion and Jimmy decides to go for it, to try and harken back to how they used to be to gauge how Tango will react when he goes "The boogie's being chosen, you're here with us now, we have to look into each other's eyes!" (paraphrasing) and then he's like "oh Impulse is here too" lmao and then that's just kinda it. And then TIES blows up bread bridge and auughhghhh you know??? I'm so bad at expressing how I feel, sorry this is a ramble. But I love them so very dearly and I could absolutely imagine inconspicuous moments between them. Like whenever I think of potential LimL rancher fluff my mind goes to this one fanfic about Jimmy being sleep deprived and he just kinda ends up at TIES and Tango puts him to sleep. Stuff like that

And idk what more to say about Secret Life. Their little rivalry is so funny and literally idk if it's the fanart that has absolutely fucked with my head but every time I think about them I imagine them awkwardly flirting on complete accident and just being kind of weird but. very lovable. They had only two notable interactions and those two interactions left me permanently deranged

ANYWAY THANKS FOR THE ASK ANON