Mira-Loves-Minecraft

Side blog for reblogging #mcyt stuff. Mostly #hermitcraft, #empires smp, and lots of #team rancher

[rainbowchaox]

You know I wanna do a experiment

Yes I mainly lurk on team Rancher but I still ship them a lot. Therefore this experiment. Tell your thoughts or opinion in tags,comments, or reblogs. As much detail you want. Tell everyone why they always on your brain 24/7 whether you ship them platonically or romantically.

[pixiemage]

There’s Not a Word Yet - Pt. 4

“And I Should Have Said It Before You Were Gone”

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Inspired by this post by @raviodoesstuff {This work can also be found on Archive of our Own}

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“It’s just a server glitch,” Jimmy said, swirling his bottle of melon juice where he and Tango were standing off to the side, away from the rest of the group. He made a face, his frown illuminated by the light of the campfire most of their Double Life servermates were gathered around. “Fwhip says it’ll be patched up soon…but ‘soon’ could be anywhere between two days and two months, knowing him.”

It was said with a half-humorous chuckle, one that made Tango grin slightly from where he was leaning against the trunk of the nearest tree. He stabbed at his slice of cake with a fork. The vanilla sponge gave way easily, smearing a bit of frosting along his plate. He took a bite, chewed, swallowed.

“…what kind of glitch?” Tango asked curiously, his head tilting at his avian partner. (Some of the buttercream stuck to the roof of his mouth and he poked at it with his tongue, trying to clear some of the stickiness from his palate before he spoke again.) “I mean - is it dangerous? If you guys are gonna be in trouble by heading back to Empires, I can talk to Xisuma about–”

“No, no!” Jimmy quickly shook his head, the feathers around his ears fluffing up in alarm. He waved his hands in front of him, wide-eyed, his juice bottle sloshing slightly. “Nonono, nothing like that! It’s just - connection issues, he says. Unstable connection. The server’s having a bit of trouble stayin’ hooked up to the main hub, is all. Which is annoying, sure, but there’s plenty o’ servers and worlds that run offline.”

Jimmy wasn’t wrong, Tango supposed. While less common, it wasn’t exactly unheard of for people to create group servers with the explicit purpose of disconnecting them from the hub. Tango couldn’t remember the last time he’d been on one himself - Hermitcraft, though private, was always connected so members could come and go as they pleased - but a handful of his friends used them often enough. Impulse and Skizz usually disconnected their Naked and Scared worlds to keep themselves dedicated to their survival challenge, and Grian had opted to temporarily disconnect his last hardcore server after finding out that repurposing the previous Life server for hardcore use had left it open to anyone who had been on the 3rd Life server prior.

And if Tango remembered correctly, hadn’t Grian’s old server - the one he’d been on before joining Hermitcraft - also been disconnected from the hub? The one he and Jimmy had been on together, right? Ego or Emo or…something. Evo? Yeah, that sounded right…

“Well that’s not so bad then,” Tango smiled, shrugging off his worry. “Your admin…uh…”

“Fwhip.”

“Fwhip, yeah,” he nodded, prodding at his cake again. “He’ll be able to keep the connection steady long enough for all of you to hop servers?”

“Yeah, of course!” Jimmy brightened slightly, a small smile coming to life on his face. “We’ll be fine. It’s only Joel, Scott, an’ me who’ve not joined yet. They’re waiting to start the season until we all get there. It’s just–” His smile faltered and he fiddled with the bottle in his hands, his wings twitching behind him. “...well like I said, there’s been…connection issues. And, er…it–” He fumbled the bottle, nearly dropped it, caught it at the last second, and clutched it to his chest with a strained look on his face. “...well it’s the comms too.”

The - what? Tango paused with a forkful of cake halfway to his mouth, eyeing Jimmy curiously. The server itself having connection issues was one thing. That wasn’t too uncommon, even if it didn’t happen frequently. But communicators were directly connected to players themselves. They didn’t require a server connection to function. So…

“That sounds like a localized jammer virus,” Tango muttered, his eyes narrowed. “That’s - yikes. They’re fixable, but your admin’s gonna have a heck of a time chasing it down. Those things are wriggly little pests.”

Jimmy’s eyes took on a slightly clueless crinkle, his brows half-furrowing in the shadows of the treeline where they had sequestered themselves. In the low light from the distant fire and from Tango’s barely-glowing hair, Tango watched Jimmy blink blankly at him with an adorable little tilt of his head. The corner of Tango’s mouth tugged upward in amusement and he shook his head, waving away his own thoughtlessness.

“Uh - sorry,” he murmured. “Forgot you haven’t been an admin for many servers.” He shoved his fork into his mouth and finished the bite of cake before he carried on. “Jammer viruses don’t pop up often, so I’m not surprised you haven’t heard of ‘em. They’re almost bots, the way they’re coded. They block signals and they know how to hide. They’re programmed to cause problems in a way that stops any server admins from bein’ able to message out for help.”

“Are they dangerous?” Jimmy asked. His fingers were drumming against his bottle of melon juice rapidly, nervously, and once he realized what he was doing he banished it to his inventory and plucked at his shirt buttons instead. Tango’s eyes followed the movement of Jimmy’s fingers for a tick or two.

Then he shook his head.

“Nah,” he shrugged. “They’re friggin’ troublemakers, and they’re a menace to get rid of, but unless Fwhip mentioned having any other major bugs to deal with, my best bet is that it just hopped servers to Empires when he booted up your new world. New coding linked up straight to the hub, and–” He made a popping sound with his mouth and jabbed at the air with his fork. “–it probably just latched onto the weak spot of a fresh, unprotected server.”

Jimmy eyed Tango’s fork curiously, thoughtfully, and Tango could see the way the concept was cementing behind his soulmate’s eyes.

“...and they’re hard to get rid of?”

“If that’s what you guys are dealing with, then - yeah. Unfortunately.”

Jimmy’s face fell and he frowned.

“So…I might not be able to message you for a little while,” he concluded woefully, his wings pulled tight against his back and his ear feathers pinned back against his head. “Not until Fwhip fixes it.”

He looked so sad, so apologetic, and Tango couldn’t help but tug him closer by the arm. The half-finished plate of cake quickly vanished into his inventory. He brought up a warm hand to cup his soulmate’s cheek, absolutely melting at the way Jimmy leaned into his touch with a warbled chirp.

“Hey, it’s okay!” Tango murmured softly, flashing his soulmate a bright smile. “It’s only a few weeks at most, right? And besides…” He tilted his head to the side, grinning a sharp-toothed grin and winking. “...if you can’t stand being away that long, you can always sneak off to the hub the next time Empires has a stable connection. I’m sure I could…ya know…abuse my admin status a bit to sneakificate you onto the Hermitcraft whitelist–”

Jimmy let out a startled little laugh and he gave Tango a scolding knock upside the shoulder, but in Tango’s opinion, it was worth it to see the way Jimmy’s downtrodden expression gave way to exasperated amusement.

“Tango!” Jimmy hissed, his wings fluffing up while he cast a glance over his shoulder, as though he was worried someone might overhear. “You can’t do that! If I end up on Hermitcraft, I wanna make a good first impression, alright? Don’t - don’t sneak me in like some stowaway!”

“A stowaway, huh?” Tango smirked, taking advantage of Jimmy’s distracted gaze to slowly reach toward him with both hands. “...I mean…you wouldn’t be a stowaway if I…just…kidnapped you!”

Jimmy turned back one tick too late, his eyes flying wide when he found himself ambushed by a pouncing netherborn. Tango had a hold around Jimmy’s waist in an instant, hoisting him off his feet and spinning him around with a strength that seemed to surprise Jimmy if his flailing wings and gaping expression were anything to go by. He let out a startled chirp and clung to Tango’s shoulders, his cheeks going slightly pink and drawing a cheeky and adoring grin to Tango’s face.

“T-Tango!” Jimmy gasped, tucking his wings in tightly to avoid sending them both toppling off-balance. “What’re you doing??”

“Well I’m kidnapping you, of course,” Tango declared. His eyes crinkled at the corners from the humor in his smile. “I’m bringing you back to Hermitcraft. I bet X won’t even notice–”

“Tangs, come onnn.” Jimmy pressed his face into Tango’s hair, grumbling into the fiery strands. “That’s too tempting. If you keep offering, I’ll never make it to Empires.”

Well that was kind of the point, wasn’t it? To never have to say goodbye?

But at the same time, Tango knew it was unrealistic and a little bit selfish to even wish for. He and Jimmy were close now, extraordinarily so thanks to Double Life, but Tango wasn’t the only person in Jimmy’s life. And Tango wasn’t foolish enough to assume that, just because they were soulmates here and just because they had a newly-flourishing relationship on this server, Tango held priority over anything else Jimmy cared for outside of Double Life. It would be selfish to try and keep him away from the life and friends and family and home he had back on Empires.

Or…the home he would have. New season, new server. New adventure.

Tango slowly settled Jimmy back on the ground, his hands resting on his soulmate’s hips and a melancholy smile tugging at his lips.

“...is it so bad for me to want you to stay?” he asked, only half-joking, and Jimmy smiled sadly.

“A part of me wants to,” he admitted. He leaned back, his back now pressed to the tree that Tango had been leaning against before, and he sighed. His hands lingered on Tango’s shoulders and his fingers toyed with the collar of the vest his partner wore. “...I’ll miss you.”

Tango stepped closer, moving into Jimmy’s space, close enough that he could feel the warmth of Jimmy’s breath tickle his nose. There was nowhere for Jimmy to go, not with the tree trunk at his back…but it didn’t seem like he wanted to be anywhere else anyway. Their faces were mere inches apart. At this distance, in the low glow coming off of Tango from his blazeborn traits, Tango could see the different shades of brown in Jimmy’s eyes. (Brown. Not yellow, not red.) He could make out the coffee shades and milk chocolate hues and occasional flecks of caramel, and he longed to have enough time to memorize them all. So little of the time he’d spent with Jimmy had been while his eyes were their natural color…and it wouldn’t last for much longer, at least until the next time.

“Mind if I give you something to remember me by?” Tango asked, teased, pleaded. “Just until we can see each other again.”

Jimmy’s smile turned flustered and playful.

“D’you have something in mind?” he asked. He seemed to already know where this was going, his eyes darting down to Tango’s smile and his tongue darting out to lick his lips, and Tango couldn’t help but chuckle breathlessly.

“Eh, I’ve got a few ideas…”

All it took was leaning a little bit closer for Tango to close the gap, for their smiles to meet in the middle and for his heart to leap ever-so-slightly while he let himself savor the kiss. He had Jimmy half-pinned against the tree, the slight breeze rustling the leaves above their heads and distant voices carrying over to their little hiding place from by the fire…but he paid it all no mind. He simply let himself be enveloped in the feeling of his soulmate held close, of slightly sun-chapped lips and tentative fingers coming up to comb through the flames dancing through his hair, and he let himself fall. Jimmy melted against the tree and his wings came up to cocoon them in a soft wall of blaze-lit golden-yellow, and for a few long, wonderful moments it was as if they were the only two people in the entire world.

It wasn’t a rushed kiss, nor was it desperate. It was soft and slow and measured, each movement heartfelt and gentle and sure. It was as though they were trying to commit the feeling to memory, trying to make these last moments count so they would both have something to hold onto until they could see each other again.

“Hey, Tango? Are you over - oh! Sorry!”

Jimmy jolted, an alarmed squeak leaving him and his wings jerking at the surprised approach of another player. Tango pulled away with a huff, but only barely, and he turned to shoot Impulse an exasperated look over one of Jimmy’s half-lowered wings.

“C’mon, man, you couldn’t have waited - like - two more minutes?” he grumbled. Impulse’s expression turned rightfully sheepish and a bit apologetic.

“Sorry man,” he said, wincing and scratching at the back of his head. “Joel was looking for Jimmy, and I thought I saw you come this way, so I figured - yeah.” He chuckled weakly. “The Empires portal is gonna be up soon.”

Jimmy groaned and let his forehead fall against Tango’s shoulder, tucking himself close to his soulmate and half-hiding from both Impulse and - Tango assumed - the idea of having to leave Double Life behind.

“Thanks Impy,” Tango muttered. Impulse let his eyes dart to Jimmy for a moment, pointed and knowing, and Tango forced a pained smile. Impulse returned it. He nodded back the way he had come and jerked his thumb in that direction.

“I’ll stall,” he mouthed, and he backed away to leave the ranchers alone for a little longer.

Tango trailed a hand up Jimmy’s back, letting his palm rest between his soulmate’s wings while Jimmy buried his face into the crook of Tango’s neck. It was quiet for a long moment. Tango could hear the chattering of their servermates not too far off, Martyn and Ren’s playful banter and Joel’s cackling laughter and Grian’s half-joking scolding of his soulmate. Tango’s own soulmate was far quieter right now, Jimmy’s grip tight on the back of Tango’s vest and his face hidden from view, but Tango could hear the quiet and saddened little avian vocalizations that Jimmy was trying his best to hide.

“...Jim?” Tango murmured. Jimmy pressed himself closer, a tiny whine escaping him. Tango chuckled weakly. “C’mon Feathers, you can’t hide in my vest forever.”

“I can try,” came Jimmy’s grumbled reply. Despite his reluctance to move, he did inevitably pull away, avoiding Tango’s gaze for a second or two before he gave in and dragged his eyes up to meet his soulmate’s. The moment Tango caught sight of the warm brown of Jimmy’s eyes he flashed a vibrant grin.

“Well hey there handsome,” he teased lightly. “Come here often?”

Jimmy flushed and scoffed, thumping a weak fist against the back of Tango’s shoulderblade where he was still clinging to his partner’s vest…but any false annoyance he held was hard to maintain with the affectionate smile Tango could see tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“You’re the worst,” he grumbled, half-amused, and Tango stifled his usual barking laugh so he wouldn’t draw outside attention.

“Eh, I’ve heard that before,” he shrugged, snickering. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

Jimmy thought for a moment. Then he smiled faintly.

“...a part of me wants to tell Scott and Joel to just leave without me?”

Tango’s cheeky grin softened to a melancholy smile. He sighed and his tail came up to curl around one of Jimmy’s legs.

“I know that too, buddy,” he murmured. “You say that like I’m not tempted to break into Empires the next time your server’s connection stabilizes.”

Jimmy huffed out a half-laugh, though it lacked much of the bright joy it usually held. He let out a breath and let one of his wings fall away, glancing backward around the tree trunk to seek out his servermates. Tango followed his gaze. Grian was in the process of summoning the usual inter-server portals that allowed Life players to return directly to their home servers once the games were over, and Scott and Joel were chatting with Etho, Cleo, and Pearl a few feet away. Both Scar and - surprisingly - Bdubs were doing a wonderful job of being a horrible distraction…which accounted for the scolding tone Tango had been hearing from Grian, he supposed. (Though maybe, judging by Impulse’s half-hidden smirk and casual glances toward Tango and Jimmy’s tree, Bdubs’ involvement in the chaos wasn’t too surprising after all. Tango would have to thank them both later for the gift of a little extra time.)

Jimmy let out a twittering sigh and slouched against the tree trunk.

“I should go,” he muttered, regret lacing in every syllable. “Before they come looking.”

And as much as he hated it, Tango had to agree.

“Yeah…yeah. Probably.”

Jimmy detangled himself from Tango’s hold, tucking his wings against his back and running a hand through his hair to fix it, but he barely made it a step before Tango was reeling him back in, both by a hand on his wrist and the tail still wound around one of Jimmy’s legs.

“Tang-mmph!”

The kiss Tango drew him into was quicker and more heated than the last, short and half-desperate and full of what few things Tango hadn’t managed to say just yet. Unspoken promises, doting devotion…silent sweet nothings. Jimmy had only half melted by the time Tango broke away again, his expression slightly dazed and his cheeks slightly flushed. His wings were fluffed and he was half-clinging to Tango’s vest again from how off-kilter the sudden show of affection had sent him.

“...o-oh. Yeah. Okay. That’s–” Jimmy chuckled breathlessly, that sparkle finally returning to his eyes, and Tango smiled brilliantly. He gently knocked their foreheads together.

“That’s more like it,” he murmured, sly and a bit giddy. “That’s a better goodbye, huh?”

Jimmy fell into giggles, brushing their noses and letting his eyes flutter shut for one second, then another. He sighed, and it was full of fondness and amusement rather than the melancholy ache that had been weighing him down before.

“It’s a better see-you-later,” he corrected. “You silly, silly man.”

“Oh, of course,” Tango drawled, “my mistake.”

“JIM!” Joel’s voice carried to the trees and Jimmy jolted, turning his head slightly and flaring the feathers around his ears to better hear his brother-in-law. “Oh, for goodness sake, where is he - JIM, THE PORTAL’S OPEN!”

Jimmy chewed his lip for a moment. (The fact that Tango could no longer feel it through the now-untethered soulbond was surreal and left him feeling a bit hollow, if Tango let himself dwell on it. He opted to save the dwelling for later.)

“D’you think Grian would notice if I just never left this server?”

Jimmy’s innocent comment drew a bright laugh from Tango, who poked at Jimmy’s side where he knew his soulmate was ticklish, causing the startled avian to dance out of reach with a flurry of feathers and a surprised little squawk.

“Tangooo!”

“Jimmyyy!” Tango sing-songed right back at him. He snorted and trailed after his partner, both of them no longer hidden by the trees and finally catching the attention of the rest of their servermates. Joel shouted something across the clearing to them, and Scott waved when he caught sight of them, and Jimmy only managed a half-raised hand in return.

Tango sidled up beside him with his hands shoved deep in his pockets, lest he became tempted to “kidnap” his soulmate all over again.

“C’mon, Feathers,” he murmured. “You can’t stay. This place is gonna go offline in about an hour anyway.”

“I know,” Jimmy grumbled. “I’m still gonna miss it.”

Tango leaned sideways to bump shoulders with him, an affectionate little nudge, and Jimmy habitually extended a wing to tuck Tango close to his side.

“I know, buddy. Me too.”

And maybe they lingered a bit longer than they should have, and maybe their walk from the treeline to the portals was slower than was probably polite. Tango knew it, and he was sure Jimmy knew it. But if this was the last time they’d see each other for a while, then - voiddammit - Tango was going to make the most of every last second they got.

“Oh, hurry it up, will you?” Joel rolled his eyes good-naturedly once they were close enough to the portal to hear him clearly. “Some of us ‘ave got places to be you know!”

“Says the man who just spent the last ten minutes so engrossed in goodbyes with his soulmate that I had to drag him away just to get him to the portal,” Scott drawled, sly and amused, and Joel’s beetroot expression was enough to send Jimmy and Tango into shared stifled laughter.

“Oi!” Joel huffed. “Me an’ Etho are from different servers! We don’t usually get to talk this much! Excuse me for takin’ advantage of what time we’ve got.”

“Cleo and Pearl and I are from different servers too.” Scott quirked an eyebrow at him. “And so are Tango and Jimmy, in case that escaped your notice.”

Joel, who had taken a defensive stance with his arms folded over his chest, opened and closed his mouth a few times before he seemed to deflate. He cast a look past Scott to Jimmy, who was still half-amused but had taken on a slightly pink-tinged complexion.

“...well I’m not sayin’ you can’t say goodbye,” Joel shrugged. (Tango was half convinced he could see a friendly smile in Joel’s eyes, a fraction of proof that he and Jimmy acted more like brothers when they weren’t in the midst of a murder game.) “If you two need a second, Jim, then take it. But I dunno how long Fwhip’ll manage to keep up the connection, is all.”

Right. The server connection. Tango winced.

“No, it’s fine,” Jimmy was saying now, tossing Tango a melancholy smile. “We said goodbye. I’m all good.”

It was a half-lie, Tango knew, but he wasn’t about to point that out. For a moment - a brief breath of a moment - Jimmy reached sideways to catch Tango’s hand. Their fingers interlocked, and they exchanged a gentle squeeze, and then they were separating and Jimmy was stepping toward the portal.

He was going to leave.

He had to leave.

(You should’ve said something. You should’ve said something sooner.)

Grian finally shook free from Scar with a grin and a laugh, batting him away and stepping up near the Empires portal. He had his admin panel out and he was double-checking his work, putting a palm to the portal frame and ensuring the connection.

(You should’ve told him.)

Grian said something, made a gesture, and Joel stepped up, tossing one last wave to Etho and grinning as he vanished from sight, and–

(Say something.)

–Scott was quick to follow him. He said something to Cleo, something to Pearl, exchanged a word of thanks with Grian and tossed a wink in Martyn’s direction. There was a spattering of laughter and a grin or two. Then he stepped through the portal, and Jimmy–

(Tell him.)

–was next. His wings were twitching, antsy and nervous, and when he cast a look in Grian’s direction, Grian’s cocky grin became warmer, gentler. He tugged Jimmy into a hug, said something only Jimmy could hear, then nudged him toward the portal. Whatever it was must have helped because Jimmy’s shoulders weren’t as hunched as before. He shot one last longing smile back toward Tango, then–

“Wait, Jimmy–”

Jimmy paused, turning more fully to face his soulmate, curiosity lighting up his expression. The glow of the portal illuminated him from behind, haloing him, making his wings look ethereal.

“Yeah?”

“I…I, uh…” Tango swallowed, nerves making his throat feel tight. Just say it. Say something. Anything. “Jimmy, I–”

But…the timing felt wrong. It felt cruel. Jimmy was about to leave, and there wasn’t enough time to do it properly, and leaving Jimmy on a note like that when neither of them would be able to see each other again for a few weeks at least…? No. No, he couldn’t do that to his soulmate.

He couldn’t do that to himself.

So instead, Tango summoned something from his inventory, the red and white fabric feeling soft and plush in his hands. He felt eyes boring into the back of his head, the knowing look from Impulse all but tangible, but he ignored it. He just focussed on Jimmy, and the bright recognition in his expression when he realized what it was Tango was holding. His eyes widened and his breath caught.

“Tango…?”

“Here.” Tango held the folded sweatshirt aloft, the bright TNT colors vibrant even in the fading sunlight. “I want you to hold onto this for me.”

Jimmy's head snapped up and he gaped at his partner, his ear feathers flaring.

“You - really?” he breathed. He reached out a hand, hesitant and uncertain, to let his fingertips brush against the familiar material. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” Tango tugged on a grin and pushed the bundled hoodie into Jimmy’s arms. “It’s lucky, remember? It kinda sounds like you need that a bit more than me right now. You can give it back the next time you see my ugly mug.”

Jimmy flashed him a watery sort of smile and held the sweatshirt close, hugging it for as long as it took to banish it into his inventory.

“Thank you.”

Tango shrugged.

“Now get outta here, Rancher,” he waved Jimmy away, reveling in his soulmate’s laugh, “before you miss your exit.” He rocked back on his heels, taking a few slow steps backward while Jimmy finished his path up to the portal. “And - hey.”

Jimmy paused again, one hand on the portal frame, one foot at the threshold. Tango flashed him a brilliant grin, one that refused to betray the ache in his chest that Jimmy could no longer feel through their nonexistent bond.

“Don’t forget to message me when you can, alright?” he demanded, only half-joking. “Don’t be a stranger.”

And Jimmy beamed, bright as the sun, as he said:

“I promise!”

Then he was gone.

When Martyn and Ren and BigB swept in, the next cluster of players in need of a portal, and when Tango’s grin slid off his face, the remaining babbling crowd wasn’t paying enough attention to see the way Tango deflated, the way he drifted away from the portal, the way he shoved his hands in his pockets just a little too hard.

Nobody but Impulse, of course, who appeared at Tango’s side as a familiar and solid presence that he was grateful for.

“Your lucky hoodie, huh?” Impulse asked, warm and knowing, and Tango snorted as he lightly elbowed his best friend in the ribs.

“You can’t talk, man, you and Bdubs are just as bad.”

Impulse laughed, not denying the accusation.

“Maybe. I’m just surprised. I know how important that sweatshirt is to you. Zed stole it one time, and you nearly pushed him off the top of Toon Towers.”

Tango just shrugged. He didn’t feel like explaining. He didn’t feel like putting into words how it wasn’t the sweatshirt that he had really wanted to give Jimmy, how he wanted to do more, how he wanted to say more. How he should have done something before their game was even over, or in the time they spent together after they’d lost their final life, but he’d waited too long, and now the timing was all wrong, and now -

Well.

He’d just have to hope Jimmy’s admin didn’t take too long on those server repairs.

“Hey.” Impulse stilled Tango with a hand on his shoulder, and it was only now that Tango realized they’d managed to walk all the way back to the shadows of the tree line. Tango blinked up at him, suddenly very aware of the warmth dancing across his scalp and against his palms and down the length of his tail. “You two have the most solid relationship out of anyone in this game,” Impulse pointed out. “A little bit of long-distance can’t do a thing to damage that.”

It was a simple thing, so few words, but somehow it helped uncoil some of the tension beneath Tango’s ribcage. He took in a slow breath and let out a lungful of hot air, cooling his core and nodding. Yeah. Yeah, Impulse was right.

Tango’s communicator beeped and he reached for it almost as an afterthought, expecting something from Zed or maybe Xisuma, checking in on the status of the Life players, but–

<SolidarityGaming> hi rancher! we made it back safe and sound! <SolidarityGaming> keeping my promise and messaging before the signal dies again <SolidarityGaming> I cant wait to send you pictures once I start building my empire :D

–and Tango grinned, something soft and warm curling up in his chest alongside his heart.

Impulse was more than right, and it was a thought that became more concrete as he sent back a cheerful ‘Can’t wait to see it!’ and it registered as received. It wouldn’t be forever. A few weeks, right? Or two months, at most. Tango had gone longer without talking to Skizz or, heck, even Impulse before. He’d get through to Jimmy when he could, and when he couldn’t, he’d just have to save up pictures and messages to send when they connected again.

Martyn and BigB were gone soon enough, and while the remaining players gathered to leave - only the Hermits left now - Tango traded messages with his soulmate for as long as he was allowed. When the connection stuttered and failed, and when it was his turn to step through the portal, the bubble of warmth didn’t pop or fade. It lingered in his chest, a small spark of hope, and he smiled. He let the effects of the portal whisk him away, pixels and particles blurring his vision, and he let the code carry him home.

Yeah. He and Jimmy would be fine…and they’d see each other again soon enough.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tango was almost proud of the fact that his grin remained intact until he was fully through Tumble Town’s nether portal. His expression only dropped once he stepped off the obsidian frame and onto unforgiving bedrock, the atmosphere of the nether much muggier though not much hotter than the mesa Tango had just left. For a moment, he barely moved. His knees felt unsteady and he reached out a fumbling hand to grip the wood-and-terracotta structure decorating the Sheriff’s portal, but he didn’t move from his spot. He didn’t have the willpower to try.

Jimmy was building the ranch.

Jimmy was building the ranch.

Something sizzled nearby but Tango didn’t pay it any mind, too fixated on that single revelation that was spiraling in his thoughts.

If Jimmy was building the ranch - their ranch - then…then a part of him had to remember. Right? He had to. Tango had been so hesitant to hope, but he couldn’t deny that he had been hopeful, that he had wistfully wondered if the Jimmy he had built a ranch with was still somewhere beneath the Sheriff’s welcoming grin. He had already seen traces of the Jimmy he remembered in the man that he had just bid farewell, tiny reflections of familiar gesticulations and intonations that made Tango’s heart ache just by being near him. (So close, yet so far.) Jimmy’s smile was the same, and his bright laughter, and his bombastic energy. The movements of his wings and the way he turned sheepish when receiving a genuine compliment…still so very him.

And he was building the ranch.

It was the same Jimmy, just as Grian had said back by the rift…and that was proof. The Sheriff of Tumble Town was his Jimmy. Tango’s Jimmy. He remembered. Somewhere in there, somewhere under the cowboy hat and the boots and the badge, Tango’s soulmate was lying dormant just waiting to be brought back to the surface. Tango’s partner, Grian’s brother, their friend. Something had made him forget, but that part of him wasn’t gone. Tango just needed to find it.

The sizzling sound from before caught his ear again and Tango dragged himself from his racing, blurring thoughts. It took him longer than he would’ve liked to realize the sound was coming from him. Namely, from the hand still clinging to the top of the nearest block, one of the terracotta pillars that made up Tumble Town’s portal decor.

One of the terracotta pillars topped with wood.

Tango snatched his hand away quickly, shaking it out to dispel the heat and grimacing at the clear imprint of his palm and fingers charred into the decorative slab. He hadn’t meant to do that. His flames had been hotter than usual as of late, he knew that, and he’d gotten into the habit of taking care not to let it get the best of him back on Hermitcraft, but - well. Today was a day of heightened emotions, wasn’t it? He could be forgiven for a momentary lapse in control. He would just have to remember to replace the damaged block when he returned to Tumble Town later.

Because he would be returning. He would be.

“Don’t be a stranger!”

Tango gritted his teeth and forced himself away from the portal. The rockets Jimmy had gifted him fell into his hand.

He’d keep his promise. Jimmy might not be able to do the same right now, not when he didn’t even remember such a promise existed, but Tango would be damned if he didn’t try to make up for it on his end. He wouldn’t fail his Rancher.

    With the coordinates Jimmy had given Tango on their way back through the train tunnel, finding the Gobland portal wasn’t too difficult of a feat.

(There was one rather embarrassing moment where he had somehow gone through Joel’s portal instead of Fwhip’s. It was obvious whose it was based on the Greek architecture, gold detailing, and obnoxiously ostentatious builds literally floating in the sky. Tango just about patted himself on the back for opting not to burn the banners he could see hanging about ten blocks out from the portal.)

After finding his way to the right portal, ducking through and finding himself face-to-face with some cactus was a little startling, and the climb up out of the small stone cave area he spawned in was a bit precarious…but to be fair, Tango had seen stranger portal locations on Hermitcraft. And really, stumbling out of a hole in the wall and finding himself in the belly of an absolutely jaw-dropping cavern carved through with an expansive web of colorful and sprawling structures and pathways? It made the short climb worth the effort. The sight he had come upon was absolutely breathtaking.

Where Jimmy’s empire had been warm and welcoming and sang of friendly neighbors and home cooking, and where Sanctuary from that morning’s journey had been lush and vibrant and - pardon the term - mythical in its aura, Gobland felt ancient. Organic. It felt like a civilization that had grown with the earth around it, one that was just chaotic and disorganized enough to almost feel overwhelming, but in a way that seemed to flow naturally with the space it had settled into.

It was an odd juxtaposition and an impressive level of building prowess that left Tango a bit wide-eyed on his first step into the empire.

(In truth, he had been just as impressed by Sausage’s creations, and just as much so by the smaller area of swampland the witch Shelby had chosen to inhabit. Perhaps - much like the Hermits - the Empires members were just like that when it came to building their bases, and the unfamiliarity of their build styles was what really made Tango take notice. It was impressive.)

“Tango! - sorry, excuse me - TANGO!”

Impulse’s familiar voice rose above the general hubbub of the cavern and Tango’s attention whipped around to his friend, who was ducking around a group of short, green-skinned miners that Tango belatedly realized must be actual goblins. They were shorter and more gremlin-looking than Fwhip…though Tango supposed Fwhip was a player hybrid, so he would look different. (Not that Tango knew goblins were even real before coming to Empires. He was learning a lot of new things today.)

Tango descended the mossy cobble pathway that led up to the portal, passing by a lava farm and a quaint-looking house on his way down. He had to duck around a handbuilt fence made of mangrove roots to reach the street - or what he assumed was the street - and the moment he was past it, Impulse managed to free himself from the small crowd of workers.

“Tango, hey!” he grinned, straightening his vest. “I lost you after we met up with everyone on the nether roof. Where’d you go?”

“Uh - yeah, I…” Tango jerked a thumb back over his shoulder toward the portal, his words trailing off. I asked Shelby where Jimmy lived, he could have said, or I found Tumble Town. But he must have hesitated a moment too long because Impulse’s grin faded to a knowing and sympathetic smile in the tick or two Tango remained silent.

“You went to find Jimmy, didn’t you?” he asked, understanding in his voice.

Tango huffed out a weary chuckle and ducked his head, the brim of Shelby’s gifted hat half-hiding his face.

“Am I that easy to read?”

“No, I just know you.” Impulse’s boot steps were heavy and recognizable against the stone path. Tango heard him come closer, and he saw Impulse’s arm move into his line of sight only moments before the oversized hat brim was tugged upward so Impulse could catch his eyes. “And if it were Bdubs, I know I’d look for him first thing too.”

Tango smiled, sheepish.

“Soulmates, huh?” he quipped commiseratingly, and Impulse laughed, a grin alighting beneath his beard again.

“Soulmates,” he agreed. He tugged at Tango’s hat, dislodging it from its perch and causing Tango to make an inhuman sound of protest as he swiped it back from Impulse’s grip.

“This was a gift!” Tango spouted, darting back from him on nimble feet. “No touchy!”

As an afterthought, he turned the hat over in his hands, checking to make sure none of the fabric had been singed by his overheated core in the time he’d been wearing it. (He probably should have thought to check back in the nether, when he’d managed to burn that slab. But it seemed entirely untouched. Perhaps Shelby’s claim of her hat being magical wasn’t unfounded.)

“...so, uh…speaking of soulmates,” Tango murmured, plopping his gifted hat back on his head where it belonged, “didja manage to find Bdubs?”

“I did, yeah.” Impulse nodded in the corner of Tango’s vision. “He’s sticking pretty close to Etho right now. I think Etho’s more worried about Joel than he’s letting on, so Bdubs being there for him is probably a good idea.”

Tango tilted his head curiously, a revelation dawning behind his eyes. Bdubs was keeping an eye on Etho? And here Tango was, showing up in Gobland for the admin meeting, with Impulse practically waiting at the gate.

“Ohhh,” he drawled. “Oh, so you two are on Babysitting Duty for the Lonely Soulmates Club, is that it?”

Impulse went a little too quiet, casting a sideways look at Tango, and Tango’s grin widened into a knowing smirk.

“Uh-huh. Thought so. Divide and conquer, right? He’s watching Etho, you’re watching me–”

“Tango–”

“–making sure neither of us sad sacks is left alone to cry into our breakfast cereal–”

“Tango, come on!” Impulse laughed, turning to face Tango more fully. “You know it’s not like that. I know this whole thing has gotta be tough on you, so…I just wanna be here for you. You’re family, man.” He stepped closer and patted Tango’s shoulder with one large hand, squeezing it gently. “Let your pyre brother take care of you for once.”

Tango huffed out a half-scoff, half-chuckle, not even fighting the appreciative little smile that lingered on his face. His tail waved lazily back and forth near his ankles for a moment, stirring up some of the dust lingering in the cavern air, and he let out a slow breath.

Impulse was a part of his pyre, that was true. His blazeborn family. Impulse was about as close to a brother as Tango had ever had…so if Tango couldn’t trust him to be a solid rock to lean on when he needed it, then who could he trust?

He reached up to drop his hand on top of Impulse’s on his shoulder, squeezing once to show his thanks.

“Yeah, man,” he muttered, nodding once. “I appreciate it.”

Impulse nodded back. After a moment he let his hand fall and glanced off to the side, staring down the path Tango had arrived from. The nether portal, Tango realized.

“So…how’d it go with Jimmy?”

Tango snorted.

“Subtle.”

“I try.” A beat, a breath, and Impulse fixed his focus back on Tango properly. “But really, how did it go?”

And, void, wasn’t that a hell of a question?

Tango sighed and shoved his hands in the pockets of his robes, shrugging and feeling his hood's fur lining tickle his ears.

“Well Joel is still an ass,” he said first, starting off easy. “He was being a total jerk to Jimmy again right about the time I found everyone.”

“Everyone?”

“Uh - oh, right–” Tango blinked up at Impulse. He hadn’t even said– “By the time I made it to Tumble Town, Jimmy had a whole entourage with him. Grian and Scar were there, which was good, because I probably wouldn’t have known about the admin meeting otherwise. And Fwhip too. And Joel.”

He grimaced, making a face. The Joel he remembered from the Life games could be a bit pushy and teasing at times, but he always had his limits and he’d never upset someone intentionally. But this Joel was–

Anyway.

“I think even Grian was getting fed up with him too because he came up with this whole excuse of needing to find Pixl before the meeting just to get Joel to leave Tumble Town with him.”

“Pixl?” Impulse spoke up, intrigued. “As in Pixlriffs? From the Recap team?”

Tango grinned lopsidedly, his eyes crinkling.

“Yeah, that Pixl,” he said. “I knew that guy in the blue shirt looked familiar. I saw him by the rift before everyone got all scatter-fied. I can’t believe I forgot he was an Empires member.”

“No wonder Grian wanted to go find him.” Impulse scratched at his jawline below his ear, thoughtful. “He’s a Hermitcraft historian. And he knows us. If anyone has a chance of remembering us, it’s him.”

“Or the Life members,” Tango tacked on, and Impulse nodded.

“Or the Life members.”

Silence fell for a moment as they both pondered that.

If anyone has a chance of remembering.

“...Jimmy’s building the ranch.”

“Wait - what?” Impulse jolted at Tango’s murmured words, snapping to attention and staring at him, gobsmacked. “He’s–”

“Yeah.” Tango managed a watery smile, his hands curling into fists in his pockets. He could feel warmth crackling along his scalp and in his palms, flames he couldn’t quite tamp down attempting to make themselves known. But he held them back as best he could. “I saw it, by his house. It’s only half-built and he said he knows what it’s meant to look like, it’s just - ah - ‘fuzzy’.” He made air quotes with one hand.

Impulse was listening intently, eyes wide and hopeful.

“Does he remember–”

“I don’t think he remembers much,” Tango cut him off quickly. He sniffed and shrugged and kicked at a stone on the path, feeling antsy and unsettled. He gave in to his need to fidget by starting off down the pathway, not going far but unable to stay put any longer. His free hand fiddled with the clasps on his robe and his tail whipped sharply from beneath its hem, casting dashes of blue light out behind him. “He doesn’t remember me. But - I dunno. Maybe something’s still in there? He invited me to stay in Tumble Town…he asked me if I wanted to help him finish the ranch.”

“He did?” Impulse prodded, and Tango could hear the smile in his words without even looking his way. His heavy footfalls trailed behind Tango, keeping up with his meandering. “Tango, that’s - that’s a good sign, isn’t it? It means there’s hope! Those memories aren’t gone.”

“Yeah…” Tango smiled weakly. “Yeah, I know.”

His Jimmy was in there somewhere. He knew that. But he couldn’t help that lingering doubt in the back of his mind, the little voice whispering what if, that made Tango’s chest feel tight any time he let himself listen to it. His smile faded as he pictured Jimmy - this Jimmy - smiling cordially at him by the rift, in the train tunnel, in the shadow of the half-built ranch. Polite and friendly and kind, but a stranger. No familiarity in his eyes and no recognition when Tango hugged him ‘hello’.

And ‘Don’t be a stranger!’ without even knowing how impactful that little phrase really was.

(Tango should have given him more than just a sweatshirt back when Jimmy still remembered how much they meant to each other. He should have said something more before the chance was taken from him. He should have.)

(He didn’t.)

Tango drifted off to the left of the rough stone brick path, trailing a hand along the wooden fencing lining a little watery farm plot full of sea pickles. What was the likelihood of Jimmy ever remembering him at all? His blaze core flared and he sucked down a breath, shakily taking the gifted witch hat from his head and shoving it unceremoniously into his inventory. He raked shaking fingers through his hair in an attempt to alleviate any flames that were spiking there, though he knew it would do little good. He swallowed thickly and turned his back on Impulse, gripping the fence with both hands and leaning on it slightly for some sort of stability.

“...it’s just weird being near him when he doesn’t know me,” he breathed, his head bowed and his heart aching. “I’d make a joke or - or smile, or something, and he’d–” He shivered. “It’s almost the same. But something’s missing. It’s - void, Impy, it’s - he’s almost, almost the same person. I don’t know if that’s better or worse.”

“Well…it means he’s still him,” Impulse spoke up, gentle and thoughtful and even. “Even if he’s - you know - missing some parts. He’s still your soulmate.”

‘He’s not’, Tango almost snipped, but ‘He is’ was fighting just as hard to be said. He was his Jimmy, but he wasn’t. He was both. He was neither. He was - he was–

“It’s Jimmy,” Impulse said, coming up beside Tango and leaning back against the fence. “Your Jimmy. And maybe - well, maybe Jimmy doesn’t remember that right now, but he will. You said he’d been building the ranch. That’s - Tango, that means it’s in there somewhere. He’ll remember. If he loved you half as much as you love him–”

“He didn’t know.”

The confession left Tango on a wavering whisper, his grip tightening on the fence where he’d been clutching the worn wood. His chest was tight and hot and he could taste sulfur on his tongue.

“...what?” The fence creaked slightly as Impulse turned, leaning further so he could try to catch Tango’s eye. “What was that?”

“I–” Tango swallowed thickly and shook his head. “Yeah, I love him, you know I love him, but…Jimmy never knew that.”

Impulse frowned, confused, his brow furrowing. Tango’s jaw went tense under his scrutinizing stare.

“What are you talking about?” Impulse murmured, shaking his head slowly. “Tango - I saw how you two were back in Double Life. You told me when he kissed you for the first time. You two were joined at the hip. I’d never seen you happier. I saw how hard it was for you two to say goodbye after the game. Why wouldn’t he - Tango, of course Jimmy knew–”

Impulse’s warm and familiar hand fell on Tango’s shoulder and he shook him off, rounding on him with smoke slipping past his teeth and a self-deprecating scowl on his lips.

“I never told him!” he snapped.

Impulse flinched and went wide-eyed, his confusion palpable, and Tango felt flames flare to life through his hair. He snarled, running a hand through them, trying to tame them and failing miserably.

“Yes, I’ve been in love with him since Double Life, but Jimmy never knew that because I never told him!” His tail lashed at the air behind him and he was only partially aware of the rapid rise and fall of his chest with each quickened breath he took. “I realized it after Jimmy fell from the Velvet Keep. We both woke up on red, and he was right there, and he was so broken up about it - and - he was just–” Tango shook his head, not really seeing what was in front of him, too focussed on the memory. “...he was more worried about me than about himself, even though he was the one who’d died. He kept apologizing and he–”

Jimmy had looked so distraught. He didn’t care that he’d died, not really…or if he did, it paled in comparison to how sorry he was to have taken Tango down with him. But Tango didn’t blame him at all. Not one bit. And yet Jimmy had apologized anyway, and they’d been sitting close on the bed, face to face, Jimmy cocooning them both in his wings, and he’d looked up with big, sad, shining eyes, and - and they’d been red. So, so red. And for a moment Tango had been sure he’d never seen anything more endearing in his life. And–

“–and I should’ve - I should’ve said something, I–”

Tango’s breath hitched and he sucked down a few deep, desperate breaths, the crackling sounds of an aggravated blaze coming through in his heightened state. He staggered back a step.

“I - void, I almost told him. More than once.” There were hands on his shoulders, grounding him, trying to center him, but he was already spiraling. “I got so close, so many times. I did. I did. I was gonna - before he left, but I couldn’t, and then–”

He couldn’t breathe.

“Tango, buddy, hey. Hey.”

Tango reached out with floundering hands, scrabbling fingers seeking purchase against the rough material of Impulse’s sleeves and arm bracers. He hiccupped, his chest heaving and his vision blurred with what he now realized were tears. When had he even started crying…?

“C’mon man, I’ve got you. Alright? C’mere.”

Impulse reeled him in gently, all but smothering him in a warm bear hug, not even bothered by the hot blue flames licking across Tango’s hair. Not for the first time, Tango was grateful to have a demon for a best friend. He clung to Impulse’s vest and forced himself to breathe, harsh blazeborn wheezes escaping him as he struggled.

Gods, he was a mess. But he had been holding up a front all day. After everything that had happened in the last fourteen hours, maybe he deserved a bit of a breakdown.

“We’re gonna fix this,” Impulse told him, and Tango could feel the rumble of his voice in his chest where Tango was still hiding his face. It was soothing, in a way. Familiar. “Grian and Xisuma are on it, and they’ve even got Fwhip and Pixl on board. And Joe too…and you. There’s a whole team of admins working together to fix this. We’ll figure it out.”

Yeah. Yeah.

He just had to remind himself of that the next time he let that little voice get the best of him.

“...I still wish I’d said something,” Tango said hoarsely. He half-crumpled in Impulse’s arms. He let out a wet, self-deprecating chuckle, his words unsteady. “Void…for a guy who can talk a mile a minute about redstone, somehow three little words feel so much harder to say.”

“They’re important words,” Impulse told him. They were. Impulse let his arms loosen after a long moment, stepping back so he could get a good look at his pyre brother. “...are you gonna be okay?” A beat, a blink. “Or, uh…okay enough? Stable?”

Tango snorted humorlessly, exhaustion settling into his bones as his core finally began to return to a semi-normal temperature.

“I’m in love with a guy who doesn’t even know who I am anymore,” he said flatly, achingly. “I’m as okay as I can be, given the circumstances.”

“Oh, Tango…

Impulse’s head shot up and Tango jolted, Grian’s voice startling him more than it had any right to. He hadn’t even heard anyone else approach. When he turned to glance back over his shoulder, he spotted an entire group lingering near the little house by the nether portal, the collection of admins and players that Tango had come here to meet in the first place. Xisuma and Joe were there, and so was Scar, along with both Fwhip and Pixl…just like Tango had been expecting. They seemed to be blessedly out of hearing range, so even if they had seen Tango’s breakdown, it was unlikely they’d heard much - if any - of the content of it.

Minor miracles.

Grian, though, had separated himself from the rest and was a few paces away…and judging by the pained expression on his face he had been there for longer than Tango probably would have liked.

Tango cleared his throat.

“How, uh…how much did you hear?”

Grian’s wings drooped against his back and he tugged at the cuff of his sweater sleeve.

“Enough.” The feathers around his ears were pinned back against his head, a mannerism Tango was more than familiar with thanks to living with an avian for the entirety of Double Life. “I didn’t - I never knew–” He cut himself off, his lips twitching into a frown. “Were you and Jimmy…”

“Together? Dating?” Tango mumbled, still not sure what word to put to it even after the literal months since he and Jimmy had become an item. He nodded jerkily, and Grian let out a quiet, saddened little chirp.

“I didn’t know,” he breathed. “I’m - I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Of course they were,” Scar chimed in, suddenly appearing at Grian’s side. He was leaning heavily on his cane, one he hadn’t had out the last time Tango saw him. “They were like two little lovebirds, being all twitterpated on the ranch while the rest of us were waging war on each other.”

Grian swallowed and crossed the small gap still dividing him from Tango. He looked as though he wanted to reach out, but he hesitated at the last second, instead returning to fiddling with his cuffs.

“We’ll get him back, I promise you,” he said, and his words held a weight to them that made Tango want to believe him. “I’m not losing my brother, and I’m not letting you lose your soulmate.”

There was an ache there, a mutual sadness and a heartfelt understanding. He understood.

“I guess we’d better get to that meeting then,” Tango told him, tugging on a smile that was only sixty percent genuine. But, hels, sixty percent was better than nothing at all.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The tavern Fwhip led them to was in an area of Gobland that was busier than the rest. It felt more like a city, like a central district, with shops and businesses and homes mingled together in a vibrant pallet of colors and life. The Drip - that’s what the sign said it was called - was a cool-looking bar that Tango probably would have appreciated the style of more if he wasn’t so focused on the problem at hand. A few lingering goblins had been inhabiting the space when they had arrived, but with only a few murmured words from Fwhip, the entire place had cleared out rather quickly.

Now the group had settled themselves around a table and the bartender - the sole goblin still lingering in the building - was making short order of what few drinks people had asked for. While Tango had been tempted to get something to take the edge off, he also knew he wouldn’t be much use to Jimmy if he wasn’t able to contribute to the conversation. So…sober it was. That wasn’t to say he was doing a very good job of paying attention. Grian had explained some of the situation to Fwhip and Pixl already–

“...I know it sounds unbelievable, but I’m very serious. We know many of you from outside of Empires. Scott, Joel, and Jimmy have participated in a game of mine before, multiple times. Scott’s the organizer for the Minecraft Championship, and Gem - you know Gem, right? - she’s also a member of Hermitcraft…”

–but really, when most of it was a repeat of what he already knew, and with worry for his soulmate still lingering on his mind, it was hard to keep himself focussed. His knee bounced impatiently under the table and his boot heel caught the footrest of his chair every so often, and he’d caught himself flicking his tail impatiently on more than one occasion.

Impulse could clearly tell he was getting antsy because every so often a heavy shoulder would lean against Tango’s, a gentle physical distraction, and he’d remind himself to settle down.

But then–

“I don’t know how much any of you might remember,” Grian said, a quiet barely-restrained desperation leaking into his words, “but I know Jimmy remembers a little bit. He remembered my name, and he remembered that my wings were a different color once. He…” Grian took a breath. “...he’s my brother, and we’ve been through a lot together, so maybe that’s why he remembers even a scrap about me. But that’s something.”

“He remembers the ranch,” Tango spoke up, his words hoarse and quiet.

Grian dragged his attention to Tango, as did everyone else at the table.

“Does he?” Grian asked, hopeful, and Tango nodded.

“Sort of. He’s building it in Tumble Town. Next to his house.”

Fwhip’s ears flicked forward and his eyebrows rose.

“That framework by the cliffside?” he asked. “The one that’s just an outline?”

“Yeah.” Tango summoned his communicator, ignoring the flashing CONNECTION ERROR warning that it had been giving him since arriving through the rift. He tabbed over to his photos and flicked back a few months, back before his recent work on Decked Out to the small collection he was far too familiar with by now. Among them was a photo of himself and Jimmy in front of the newly-finished ranch, Tango having been strong-armed into taking it by his all-too-proud soulmate. Jimmy had an arm slung around Tango’s shoulders and his grin was blinding, bright and warm beside Tango’s sheepish and flush-faced little smile.

It was one of Tango’s favorite pictures.

Tango set his comm on the table and slid it past Impulse to Fwhip, who stared at the photo on its screen with widening eyes.

“That’s it,” he muttered. “That’s what he’s been building. I’ve seen his build so many times…”

Fwhip trailed off, his gaze lingering on the image. Tango wasn’t sure what he was seeing there, but something must have caught his attention. The goblin’s expression softened and became melancholy all at once, something unreadable lingering behind his eyes. It lasted for only a moment or two before he sighed and pushed Tango’s communicator back across the table.

“So - you mean all of us have forgotten things? All of us have some kind of - what - amnesia?”

“Basically,” Grian told him.

“What about Gem?” Impulse spoke up, and when Tango looked over there was a frown creasing his brow and pulling down the corners of his mouth between his beard. Grian mimicked his expression, his wings fluttering behind him.

“What about her?”

“She’s acting really odd.”

More of the table gave him their attention, Fwhip more than the rest.

“Whaddaya mean by ‘odd’?” Xisuma asked, leaning forward and steepling his fingers in front of him. “I didn’t see her much today.”

“Well, she was kind of all over the place,” Scar said, and Impulse nodded with an affirming hum.

“Yeah, that,” he agreed. “And every time I saw her, she seemed to flip between tagging along with me and Pearl, and pretending she had no idea who we were.”

“And the random costume changes,” Tango muttered, which Impulse nodded along with.

“That too.”

“How do you know Gem again?” Fwhip asked, squinting at them with a strange look on his face.

“She’s a member of our server,” Xisuma told him. “She’s been with us for a season and a half by now, and she’s a wonderful builder and a wonderful friend.”

“She’s been with you?” Fwhip pressed, confusion in his expression. “Except for recently, you mean.”

Now it was Impulse’s turn to look confused, and Tango was right there with him.

“Nooo…?” Impulse said slowly. “She’s…my neighbor? I see her every other day. She was with us when we came through the rift.”

“That’s not possible.” Pixl’s voice drew their attention, his brow furrowed. “She lives here, in Dawn. She’s the princess of that kingdom. And we already established that nobody is capable of leaving the server.”

Impulse chuckled weakly, confused, shaking his head.

“That’s–”

“How long do you remember her being here?” Grian asked pointedly. “Specifically.”

“As long as any of us,” Pixl told him. “Since the founding of our empires.”

Impulse shot Tango a look, perplexed and tight around the eyes.

“But…she’s been on Hermitcraft,” he said. “Regularly. I’d even say she’s been on more than usual the last few weeks.”

Grian took a breath and a beat of silence passed with him staring off across the table, not looking at anything in particular. Just…thinking. He was tugging at his sweater cuffs again, his brow pinched. Without any preamble or a single spoken word, Scar shifted closer, resting his hand against Grian’s back just below his wing joints. He leaned in to press a quick kiss into his soulmate’s hair and Grian softened, much of the tension draining from his shoulders and too-stiff wings.

“...I need more information,” he muttered finally, and Xisuma nodded beside him. “We should talk to Gem tomorrow.”

“What about False?” This time, the question arose from Joe Hills, who had been sitting in relative silence through most of the conversation. “Isn’t she also a member of both servers?”

“Void, she is,” Xisuma muttered. “And she came through the rift with us as well…has anyone seen much of her today?”

“A little,” said Grian lowly. “At Sanctuary.”

“She was at Shelby’s place not long after we first got separated,” Tango added, followed by Impulse saying,

“And at Dawn.” He winced. “I was a bit too focused on how weird Gem was acting though, so I don’t really remember what False was getting up to.”

Grian chewed his lip thoughtfully, squinting at nothing.

“We’ll need to talk to them both then,” he mused. He nodded, slowly at first, then a little more decisively. “Right…right. Okay. Fwhip.”

One of Fwhip’s ears twitched and he tilted his head at Grian, who finally refocused his eyes back on the goblin. Grian looked dreadfully serious, something behind his eyes making him appear older and more burdened than he had any right to.

(Though Tango knew there was good reason for that. He may not have known all the details, but he knew enough of Grian’s history to know he had been through a lot. He had seen more than most Hermits probably had in their entire lifetime.)

“Fwhip, I’d like to ask permission for us to have access to your server code. OP status at least, if nothing else.”

“The server code?” Fwhip repeated, even as he pulled out his communicator. “You think it’s a server issue?”

“I’m sure of it,” Grian told him, the same time that Tango muttered, “We know it is.”

Pixl and Fwhip cast Tango a glance, and under their curious stares, he shrugged lopsidedly.

“The last time I saw Jimmy, he told me you guys were having connection and communications issues with the server. We had to time the portal just right to get him and Scott and Joel back to Empires after Double Life ended.” He folded his arms over his chest and sank back in his seat, his knee bouncing beneath the table again. “Back then I’d guessed it might’ve been a jammer, but this is way more than that. The connection just kept getting worse and worse until nobody could get through anymore, and now with the memory loss…”

Grian nodded with a wince.

“It was about that time I reached out to the Recap team and Noxcrew to see if they’d had better luck, but–” He shook his head, his wings fidgeting tensely against his back despite Scar's comforting presence at his side. “I dove into my rift experiments more steadily after that. If the hub couldn’t get through, then I’d hoped a bit of void magic would have a better chance.”

Xisuma landed a hand on Grian’s shoulder, his eyes crinkling into a smile behind the visor of his helmet.

“And you were right, my friend,” he said. “We got through.”

Grian huffed out a soft breath and flashed the other admin an appreciative look.

The chair between Tango and Xisuma creaked and Joe leaned forward, straightening his glasses slightly.

“Pixlriffs, you’re a man of record keeping and historical documentation,” he spoke up, drawing the man’s attention. “Would you say you also keep records of the daily goings on of the server?”

“I, er…” Pixl blinked at him, as though the thought hadn’t even occurred to him. “Yes, actually. My focus is on ancient history more than anything else, but today’s events will one day be tomorrow’s history. I like to help future historians’ endeavors in any way I can.”

“Wiser words were never spoken,” Joe smiled. “Well if that’s the case, have you read back through any of your old journals from the start of the server?”

Understanding dawned behind Pixl’s eyes.

“Not recently, no. I don’t often go back once I've filled a book. I keep them all organized on a shelf back at my base and only ever keep the current copy on me.”

“Well perhaps that’s where we ought to start tomorrow mornin’,” Joe decided. “You an’ I can head over and check your old records, some other folks can find Gem and False, and anyone else around can get started on examining the server code to look for categorical anomalies.”

Grian, for one, looked more than a little relieved that they had a plan of action laid out before them. Tango imagined that was where a great deal of his current stress had been spawning from - having no starting point to tackle the much too daunting task that lay ahead of them. For not the first time, Tango was grateful to have Joe Hills as a member of their Hermit family.

“That sounds like a solid plan,” Xisuma said. “Thank you, Joe.”

“Here–” Fwhip summoned an admin screen to life before him, tabbing open a secondary window and an equally holographic keyboard. “Let’s see if I can get all your comms linked up to Empires so we can keep in touch. I might not have to add anyone to the whitelist if I do this right.”

“Wouldn’t having them on the whitelist be easier?” Pixl asked. He leaned sideways to peer at the screens. “It seems like the quicker option.”

“Unless being on the whitelist makes it easier for our memories to be affected the way yours have been,” Grian pointed out, and Fwhip nodded his agreement. “It would be nice if our rescue mission didn’t end in the loss of another dozen or so players to the effects of this glitch.”

Pixl blanched at the thought.

“...ah.”

The chatter of voices rose quietly around the table, Grian attempting to help Fwhip connect the Hermits to Empires through a sort of digital backdoor method while Pixl watched on with bright curiosity. Xisuma and Joe had their heads leaned together and were talking in low tones, and Scar was making a quiet request to the bartender for another drink while he drummed his fingers idly against the backrest of Grian’s chair.

Tango let out a low breath and sank further in his chair, dragging his hands over his face and letting his head fall backward against the wooden backrest.

“...are you going back to Tumble Town tomorrow?”

Impulse’s voice was a soft undertone, murmured in Tango’s direction in a way that wouldn’t draw outward attention. For that, Tango was grateful. At the mere mention of his soulmate’s empire his chest grew tight and he ground the heels of his palms against his eyes hard enough to see stars pop up in his vision. In lieu of an answer, he let out a grumbled blazeborn wheeze and a small puff of hot air, his hair flaring a briefly brighter blue. Beside him, Impulse huffed out a quiet chuckle.

“Yeah, I thought so.”

“I told him I’d come back,” Tango managed. He let his hands fall away from his face and let his head loll sideways to look up at Impulse. His best friend was watching him, his beard crinkled into a knowing little smile. “Am I stupid for wanting to, even when it kind of hurts?”

Impulse hummed thoughtfully and shook his head.

“Nah, not stupid. A bit self-destructive, maybe, but you’re not doing it because you want it to hurt. You just miss him.”

“Yeah…” Tango went quiet for a long moment, doing his best to ignore the ache behind his eyes. “I think the alternative is worse.”

“What, not seeing him at all?”

Tango nodded jerkily, the fur of his hood tickling his cheek slightly. He ducked down against it, half-hiding in the material, just…thinking. Then he groaned and slumped forward onto the table, tugging his hood up over his head and dropping his forehead onto folded arms. The glow of his hair shone through his eyelids slightly in the new darkness. For a few blissful moments he was left in a dome of semi-quiet, the outside world muffled by the thick material of his robes and the protective barrier of his arms. For a few blissful moments he could pretend he’d just fallen asleep at his workstation in Decked Out and this entire day had been nothing but a horrible dream brought about by his lack of a regular sleep schedule. Or any sleep at all, really.

Then someone rapped gently on the table beside his folded arms and Tango lifted his head just enough to peer out from under the fur trim of his hood. Scar’s smiling face was ducked down to his level and Tango frowned, wondering what in the world Scar could want from him.

“Mind taking a walk with me, Mr. Tango of the Lovesick variety?”

Tango didn’t deign to comment on the awful nickname, scrunching up his nose in distaste…even as he (begrudgingly) admitted that it was a horribly accurate descriptor. Accuracy notwithstanding, he leveled Scar with a squinting halfhearted glare and eyed him with suspicion.

“Where?”

“Oh, just outside!” Scar’s face vanished from the small crack between the table and Tango’s hood. “I think we could both do with some air. Waddaya say?”

Tango’s first instinct was to assume Scar’s request wasn’t quite as innocent as it seemed on the surface. After all, the man was a grifter, and everyone knew it. No comment he made with that tone of voice could be taken at face value.

But…on the other hand, getting out of the tavern and away from the chatter of the group sounded like a wonderful offer.

Tango dragged himself upright and scrubbed a hand over his face. He didn’t bother knocking back his hood as he stood up, opting instead to shove his fists in his pockets and flash Scar a weary smile. Scar, on the other hand, looked chipper as ever as he grinned brilliantly at his much more melancholy friend.

“Come, come!” he urged, hooking an arm through Tango’s and leading him away toward the door. “I want to take a look at the architecture before we all turn in for the night.”

The architecture. Right. It was a very Scar thing to say, to be sure, but Tango could sense an ulterior motive from a chunk away.

Tango allowed himself one last glance over his shoulder as they left. Nobody but Impulse seemed to have noticed his and Scar’s departure. Grian was still as fixated as ever on the wall of server code Fwhip had pulled up for him, and Joe had taken out a book and quill and was scribbling rapidly in its pages. In Tango’s absence, Impulse had shifted closer to Fwhip to try and get another set of eyes on the coding the others were examining…though he must have felt Tango’s eyes on him because he turned around at the last second to offer his pyre brother a small supportive smile. Tango barely managed a forced one of his own before Scar was dragging him out into the street.

    The damp chill of the cavern air was more refreshing than Tango had expected it to be once he and Scar set foot outside. He could taste a burnt metallic tang in the air that he could only assume was coming from the armory next door, and there was a layer of mustiness that wasn’t out of place in a city built so far underground.

Scar tugged him along, away from the tavern, his eyes dancing from building to building with an air of knowledgeable curiosity that had Tango wondering if the man was already collecting pieces of decor in the back of his mind for a future construction project. Goodness knows Tango often did the same when mentally dissecting other players’ redstone contraptions. They didn’t walk very far, merely taking a short stroll around their little corner of the city block, and then Scar finally broke the simple silence that had taken over the air around them.

“You know Tango,” he said, and Tango could already hear that familiar sly cordiality that often accompanied a Scar-certified scheme, “I was talkin’ to Fwhip for a while on our way over here. I heard some interesting things about this empire of his.”

“Is that right?” Tango asked, wondering where this was going.

“Yes, yes!” Scar grinned. “It’s actually built on the edge of an ancient city, if you’d believe it. I don’t know if that’s a brave idea or a very silly one, but I sure wouldn’t try it myself. Those wardens scare me too much.”

Tango snorted, a small smile cracking on his face.

“Naaah,” he drawled. “Wardens aren’t so bad, you’ve just gotta be nice to ‘em. They’re like ravagers. A bit murdery when you first meet ‘em, but once they get used to you they’re super friendly. They’re big ol’ teddy bears, really.”

Scar pretended to be stunned, affronted, his jaw dropping and a shocked sound leaving him.

“Not all of us are monster wranglers!” he protested. “I’ll have you know, I died about a hundred times trying to get that ravager into Locked Out.”

Tango snickered.

“Aww, come on! Ravagers are just big dumb chompy cows. They’re friendly! Just - get on their good side first.”

“Well, I don’t believe ravagers even have a good side,” Scar grumbled, “but the next time one tries to kill me, I’ll let you know if I can find it.”

At that, Tango cackled, letting out a barking laugh and allowing his tail to loosen from where it had become tightly coiled around his leg. It flicked out lazily from beneath the hem of his coat, shifting the heavy fabric. Tango patted Scar’s arm lightly where it was still looped through his.

“I’m guessing you won’t be staying in Gobland while we’re here?” he asked, teasing. “If you’re not a fan of wardens, then…I meeeaaan…”

“Noooo, no, no! Absolutely not,” Scar confirmed immediately. “Most people won’t be, as far as I heard. I think Grian even has plans to build a Hermit base near the rift.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “But I, on the other hand, have my sights set on Trouble Town.”

…what?

“...Tumble Town?” Tango corrected slowly, curiosity getting the best of him as he swallowed back the lump in his throat that arose upon hearing the empire’s name. “Really?”

“Oh, sure, sure!” He led Tango out of the street and up onto the pathway on the other side, leaning on him for a moment so he could crane his neck up to examine the trim on a building they passed. “Well the Sheriff offered me the chance to become his Deputy! I’m not about to turn that down.” He shot Tango a brilliant grin. “And it’s a wild west empire. What’s not to love?”

Scar was watching him expectantly, so Tango pulled on a smile, huffing out a breath.

“Yeah…” he murmured. “It’s pretty amazing. Jimmy built almost all of it himself.”

It was amazing, he couldn’t lie. For someone who had claimed to “not be a builder” during Double Life, Jimmy had proven his own claim wrong a hundred times over with the existence of his empire alone. He had created an entire community there, buildings that looked natural in their environment and helped to bring the western town and the surrounding mesa to life. It wasn’t as colorful as Sanctuary or as grand as what little of Joel’s empire Tango’d been able to see during the few seconds he’d let himself linger there, but it was homely. It was welcoming and warm and had that flair of homespun comfort that was often associated with handmade blankets and home-cooked meals.

Tango was proud of his soulmate, and he was only a little upset he hadn’t been able to say it properly earlier for fear of coming across as more friendly than a stranger should. But that was alright. He’d just have to save it for when Jimmy finally got his memories back, wouldn’t he?

There was a moment of quiet, then Scar let Tango’s arm go in favor of sinking carefully onto a low stone wall built along the front of an unmarked building. He took a breath, his fingers drumming idly along the handle of his cane.

“You know, Fwhip also mentioned that he’s looking for a redstoner.”

…and there it was. The other shoe.

Tango cast Scar a sideways glance from beneath his hood, but the man wasn’t looking in Tango’s direction. He was still admiring the trim and rooflines of a building across the street, paying little mind to the few goblins still loitering around the square. With a resigned huff, Tango dropped onto the wall beside Scar.

“A redstoner, huh?” he asked flatly, only barely playing along with Scar’s game. “You should tell Bdubs. He’d be thrilled to help.”

He didn’t have to look Scar’s way to feel the other Hermit’s eyes on him.

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll already have his hands full with Etho,” Scar said. He laughed quietly to himself. “Nooo, no, I was actually going to suggest you should take the job.”

Despite having been expecting it, Tango grimaced at the suggestion.

“I can’t,” he muttered. “I already promised Jimmy I’d help him with building the ranch, and I’d rather spend any free time trying to help fix this glitch–”

“Tango, Tango, Tango,” Scar cut him off. “If you force yourself to stay this close to the issue twenty-four-seven, you’re gonna go insane! Trust me, you should let yourself take a break sometimes. Heck, when I get too stuck in my own head, I like to do some building or start sketching up a new design, and it works wonders.” He leaned sideways to bump shoulders with Tango, a grin on his face. “You’re a redstone guy, right? So take the job! Do some redstone! Take your mind off of things once in a while! It’ll be good for you!”

Tango chewed his lip and stared out across the uneven stone street, a faint blue glow emanating from beneath his hood. He folded his arms over his chest and his tail wound its way around his waist, and he found himself tempted to let his blaze rods free from the confines of code he often kept them hidden away in.

Maybe Scar had a point. Tango had known, in accepting Jimmy’s invitation to stay in Tumble Town, that he was setting himself up for heartache. He already knew how hard it was going to be to stick around his soulmate under the current circumstances. He had all but resigned himself to his fate up until now, willing to endure anything if it meant spending even a second more time with Jimmy, but…well. His knee began bouncing again and he dug his fingers into the sleeves of his robes.

It was unrealistic. Unsustainable. Nobody knew how long it would take to undo the damage of whatever bug had gotten into the code of Empires, and for all that Tango wanted to keep a close eye on his amnesiac partner, he also knew he’d be of little use to his fellow admins if he was mentally and emotionally compromised on a daily basis.

A hand came to rest on his upper arm, drawing Tango’s attention back to Scar, whose bombastic grin had lessened into something soft and understanding.

“You don’t have to avoid him completely,” he reminded Tango, his voice low and even and almost comforting. “He’s your soulmate. I know how that goes. I’m just sayin’ you should give yourself a breather sometimes. We all need one, once in a while.”

Scar drummed his fingers against the handle of his cane pointedly and Tango gave him a wry smile.

“From the mouth of an expert,” he quipped, and Scar grinned.

“Ohhh, I wouldn’t say expert,” he teased right back. “Just someone with experience.”

Scar pulled away and got to his feet with some effort, leaning more heavily on his cane than he had been before and sighing.

“Welp, I’d love to keep chit-chattin’, but I think Grian’s looking for me.”

Tango glanced around with a frown. The streets were almost completely empty by now aside from himself, Scar, and a few lingering goblins. The familiar ambiance of an expansive cavern lingered in the air - quiet echoed bat squeaks and the resonating drip of stalactites and the sound of distant clattering pebbles - and it had been the same for as long as he and Scar had been out here. Even his finer blazeborn hearing wasn’t picking up anything different, no change in the environment around them, and yet–

The Tavern door swung open across the street, familiar macaw-colored feathers catching Tango’s eye, and he raised an eyebrow. Speak of the devil…maybe Scar could sense him coming. Maybe it was a vex thing.

“Tango?” Scar said with a smile, “Just think about it.”

Then he left Tango to his thoughts, carefully making his way across the cobbled street and being met halfway by a much more energetic Grian. The avian was flitting about his soulmate, his wings shifting constantly, and he made a sweeping gesture back toward the tavern, toward Scar, then back the way they had come on their trip down here in the first place. Then Scar laughed and grinned and said something that Tango could only assume was charming, as Grian instantly softened and rolled his eyes.

Tango snorted to himself, a tiny wry smile easing its way onto his face. For all the chaos Scar and Grian wrought upon each other on a near-daily basis, it never seemed to change how much they cared for one another. It was like a constant of the universe. Doc would always find a way to break the laws of physics. Bdubs would always gravitate toward Etho. Mumbo’s redstone would always cause lag. Grian and Scar would always be soulmates, no matter the server.

Jimmy would always be his soulmate, no matter the server.

Tango’s smile faded slightly as he watched them leave, Scar settling an arm over Grian’s shoulders and Grian chattering endlessly to him while he gestured toward a building not too far from the tavern. Tango could only assume it was an inn of some kind, based on the signage and architecture.

He sighed. He could still feel a crackle of flames at his scalp.

“Just think about it.”

Scar wasn’t wrong, Tango couldn’t deny it. Getting away from all the mental stress and distracting himself with redstone once in a while wasn’t the worst idea in the world. And seeing as the job itself was posted for by Fwhip, the admin of the server, at the very least Tango knew he’d be nearby if something important happened with the server code.

Maybe he’d take the job. Maybe.

A few more people spilled out of the tavern, Xisuma and Joe lingering outside the door with Impulse to chat. Pixl and Fwhip were still talking amongst themselves as well, their heads close and their voices low…though rather than moving toward the inn like Grian and Scar had, their path was bringing them closer to Tango and in the general direction of the route they had taken from the nether portal.

Perhaps Pixl planned on returning home for the night.

Their footsteps carried them past Tango’s seat on the wall, and it was only then that he began to overhear what was being said.

“...should bring Scott in on this,” Fwhip was saying. “Grian said he’s got a lot of admin experience–”

“Except he doesn’t remember it,” Pixl said. He shook his head, his brow furrowed. “If this amnesia issue is server-wide then he only remembers living here with you as the sole admin, just as I do.”

Fwhip swore softly and frowned.

“Right. Dammit–”

He stopped in his tracks to glance backward toward the tavern. One of his massive, batlike ears twitched, his tail flicked irritably, and then he sighed.

“Dammit. Okay. The less people the better, then…” Fwhip turned back around, glanced in the other direction, and his large eyes fell on Tango. “Oh - hey, I was wondering where you’d gone.”

Tango forced a smile.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to just poof out on ya.” He chuckled weakly and jerked a thumb at the surrounding streets and buildings. “Scar dragged me out for a self-tour. You’ve got a nice empire here, man.”

Fwhip lit up.

“Thanks!” He grinned, sharp goblin teeth on full display. Then he eyed Tango curiously, his ears perking up and his head cocking to the side. “Wait - aren’t you the one Scar said was into redstone?”

Tango’s smile went tight and he withheld a groan. Of course. Of course Scar would’ve had a backup plan for this scheming. Tango should have expected something like this.

(He had to remind himself that, for all of Scar’s trickery, it was coming from a place of care and compassion. Scar was only trying to be a good friend.)

“Yeah, that’s me.” Tango got to his feet and finally flicked his hood backward off his head, the heat that had been captured under it escaping into the damp subterranean air. “...he was telling me something about a redstone job you had for me…?”

“For anyone who wants it, really,” Fwhip shrugged. “I just need someone who can handle doing some wonky redstone for me.”

At that, Tango’s expression lit up. Ohhhh…oh, he could see why Scar had thought of him.

“Oh, I can do wonky,” he said, a genuine smile coming to life on his face, one that quickly shifted into a smirk at Fwhip’s excited expression. “Whatcha got in mind?”

    By the time Impulse found him, Fwhip and Pixl had long since left, and Tango was staring up at the cavern ceiling with about half a dozen different ideas bouncing around in his head. He wasn’t planning on doing anything tonight - or even for the next few days, really - but he found himself silently thanking Scar for knowing him so well. Even if he came by once a week to help Fwhip with his minecart idea, those brief moments of respite amidst the chaos and stress would help him reset when he needed it most.

“Hey,” Impulse said, strolling up to him. He followed Tango’s gaze toward the ceiling and squinted. “Whatcha lookin’ it?”

“Mmm…nothing yet,” Tango mused. He shook half-formed redstone plans from his mind and turned to offer Impulse a tired grin. “Scar hornswoggled me. He got me good.”

A knowing smile slowly spread across Impulse’s face, accompanied by a curious furrow of his brows.

“Oh?” he asked, chuckling. “What’d he do?”

“He got me to accept a job from Fwhip to keep my mind off of things.”

“Did he?” Impulse asked, brightening. “What kind of job?”

Tango snorted.

“What else?” His grin turned lopsided. “He got me in on some redstone action.”

Impulse let out a laugh.

“Oh, of course!” He elbowed Tango lightly, and Tango shoved him back. “It’s your kryptonite. Of course you said yes.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Tango drawled, stepping off the curb into the street and traipsing his way toward the inn he’d seen Xisuma and Joe vanish into not too long ago. “Like you wouldn’t be saying yes just as quickly.”

Of course, he didn’t say that it had taken some serious consideration and some meddling from Scar to get him to even say yes in the first place, but…details.

“Oh, I would!” Impulse admitted, and Tango could hear the hurried sound of his heavy boots on cobble as he worked to catch up with Tango. He was quick to fall into step beside him the moment he’d reached Tango’s side. “Hey…I’m proud of you for saying yes.”

Tango’s steps stuttered and he glanced sideways at Impulse, who wasn’t even looking his way.

“...why?”

Impulse shrugged, his broad shoulders shifting upward and the belt beneath his vest chinking slightly.

“‘Cause you’d probably rather be with Jimmy right now,” he said, like the plainest thing in the world. “Heck, you’d probably rather be with Jimmy most days we’ll be here. But - I mean I told you not to torture yourself. I told you to be careful. And you are.”

Tango blinked a few times, his pace slowing ever so slightly and his jaw tensing.

“...not that careful,” he admitted bitterly, the memory of Jimmy looking concerned while Tango stared wistfully up at his unfinished build coming to the forefront. “I still said I’d help him build the ranch. I said I’d live there. The ranch, Impy-”

“You did,” Impulse admitted, and his expression turned a little pained. “And that probably wasn’t the smartest. But you also committed to something that’ll give you space when you need it. Right?” He stopped just before the door to the inn, his smile strained but still genuine beneath it all. “I’m proud of you for that.”

Tango swallowed and hunched his shoulders, his hands finding their way back to his pockets and the fur of his hood tickling his ears. He found a bit of lint with his fingertips and toyed with it while he fidgeted on the stoop.

“...it’s not much.”

“It’s something though.”

And…yeah. Yeah, he supposed it was.

“Fwhip said we can take any empty rooms for the night,” Impulse said after a moment, shouldering open the door and bypassing the empty front room to stare up the stairs. “Come talk to me before you go to Tumble Town tomorrow, okay?”

Tango gave a sharp, jerky sort of nod, and his smile didn’t feel quite as reassuring as he was trying to make it out to be. All the same, Impulse took it at face value, and he gave Tango one last one-armed hug before making his way upstairs.

Later, when Tango had found an empty room and removed his coat, when he stood in his tunic and trousers and bootless socks, when he stood at the open window and shivered in the chilly cavern air, he reminded himself that even accepting the help Scar had forcibly offered was a step in the right direction. It was good. It was no small feat to admit when he needed help at all, and saying yes to Fwhip’s job offer was as close as he was probably gonna come to admitting it in the first place. (To anyone besides Impulse, at least.)

The air was too still and too damp and too cold to be comfortable, even compared to the freezing environment of Decked Out that Tango had become so accustomed to. It was just too different. Too different from the dry, crisp, frigid atmosphere of the dungeons…too different from the warm, sweet air Tango remembered from Double Life.

More surprisingly, he found himself longing for the hot dry sun and sand-filled boots and sharp winds, a place he had no reason to call familiar…but somehow it still called to him. He was sure it had more to do with the person who lived there than the place itself. He was the home Tango was missing, even if the mesa surely wasn’t.

But he’d see Jimmy tomorrow, he reminded himself. His next visit was only one night’s sleep away.

(He knew he wouldn’t see his soulmate for a very, very long time.)

Tango took a slow, measured breath and ignored the crackling warmth in his chest. The air on his tongue tasted like sulfur.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

[A/N: So um. I'm sorry…? ^^;;; Good news: This is most likely the worst it'll ever get in this story. This is the low point. It's only uphill from here (mostly) and since the next chapter will most likely be from Jimmy's POV, it'll be MUCH fluffier! :3

…also this chapter ended up at 15.5k words, which DOUBLED THE LENGTH OF THE ENTIRE FIC. AGAIN. How?!? HOW do I keep doing this to myself??? I just - slams head on desk - I need a more sane brain. Honestly.

BUT in all seriousness, for as long as it took to write this, I am INSANELY proud of the outcome! Thank you to multiple members of the Hermitshipping Big Bang server for helping me with beta reading, and thank YOU for your patience! I hope it was worth the wait! We got to see Impulse being a GREAT friend, and Scar being a good one as well in his own way. And Grian too…I mean, a friend of mine said they were surprised he didn't know Tango and Jimmy were an item during Double Life, but Grian didn't really interact with the ranchers as much as he did with others, and I like to imagine that Tango and Jimmy didn't exactly indulge in much PDA when they were actively roleplaying for the game lol. That was kept (mostly) behind the doors of the ranch. 😋 Grian somehow COMPLETELY missed his little brother getting a boyfriend in the midst of his death game lol. (I suppose the Flower Husbands had a much more noticeable relationship though, so maybe he just never assumed anything was happening since the Ranchers were more low-key with their affections.)

ALSO I HOPE I PORTRAYED FWHIP AND PIXL WELL ENOUGH. I've seen SOME Empires stuff, but my knowledge is a bit lacking so I just - well, fingers crossed, basically lol. Hopefully what I have seen has helped me do them both justice to some degree!

And if you'd like me to go back and add other inspiration songs to earlier chapters, let me know. I have a MASSIVE chronological playlist for this story, and the main reason I won't be sharing it in full is because some future songs may be a bit spoilery hah. Sooo revealing them as we go seemed like a fun idea! I hope y'all find some good music to add to your own playlist in here!]

[ Previous | Next? ]

[yacinthemorning]

Tailored to Your Liking

Chapter 1

[first] [next]

Summary: Tumble Town attracts all sorts of misfits looking for a fresh start on the frontier, but everyone still needs clothes. Be it extra limbs or high temperatures, Jimmy caters to every hyrbid's needs.

Ships: Jimmy/Tango (slow burn romantic), Grian/Mumbo/Scar (romantic)

Warnings: Implied traumatic events, no workplace safety, awkward flirting

“Stay still.”

“I’m- ow! I’m trying! Stop stabbing me!”

“I wouldn’t poke you if you remained still!”

Grian let out an awful hiss, of which Jimmy simply returned before focusing back on his work. With careful hands he pinned back the linen around the base of Grian’s bright, colourful wings. Normally it was quite difficult even with a behaved customer thanks to the down that bridged into the back’s flesh. Luckily, Jimmy was an expert at this particular issue thanks to his own avian heritage. Despite further protests accompanied by goading from Scar across the room, Jimmy acquired the right measurements needed, and began pulling the linens off. “Okay, that’s all for today.” He assured.

Grian hardly waited, hopping away to the bench his companions waited for him upon. Mumbo held out his old clothes – filled with holes and poor patchwork that had also since worn through. He glared at Jimmy. “It’s a miracle you stay in business with the way you treat your customers like glorified pin cushions!”

“Oh, it’s a particularly special treatment.” Jimmy beamed, crossing his arms. “I save my best customer service just for you, my dear brother.”

He got a sniff in reply before Grian stomped out. Mumbo stepped forward instead, rummaging through his coin purse. “Sorry about that, Jim. He’s ornery about having to replace his sweater.”

“I don’t see why he should be. It’ll end up within reach in his nest.” Jimmy shrugged as he counted out the coins. “Like every other exactly identical sweater I’ve made him.”

“It’s true! I can hardly tell what’s sweater and what’s feather in that thing anymore.” Scar pushed himself up with his cane and a chuckle.

A raised eyebrow was directed to him, but Jimmy was unsure the vexling noticed. Instead, he simply logged it away in his mind. A pparently, they were at the stage of sharing nest- and nobody bothered to tell him, of course. “Well, you know how the routine goes, come back in a week for fitting. I practically know his order by heart now and have all the supplies ready.” 

“You’re a lifesaver, Tim. Come over for tea sometime soon!” Shouted Scar as Mumbo opened his parasol and guided him out the shop door. It jingled upon their exit, and Jimmy waited until it came to a full stop before he stopped waving. With a sigh, he placed the linens down at his desk, then collapsed into his chair. His brother always felt like at least a full day’s work on his own. 

Jimmy was sorting through his fabrics to find the right shade of red when there was a strange scratching sound, followed by the jingle of door bells and a curse. His desk’s Gaslamp shuddered like a warning. Jimmy looked up in time to see a man slinking through his half-opened door like a scolded animal. He was cloaked in rough leather and quite frankly looked like he’d just been pulled out of a well. Steam simmered in the air from his head, and a limp tail dragged a bit too slowly behind, eliciting a cattish screech when the door clamped down on its tufted end.

Jimmy’s feathers raised defensively, in instinct and appalment. “Hello?” Was the only greeting he could muster. The man fell to his knees, and it was then that Jimmy noticed how much he shook. It activated some protective part of his soul, pushing him forward to aid the man to his feet. But just as quickly as he reached out the stranger pulled back, throwing a hand with blackened claws up.

“Don’t- Don’t touch me.” His scratchy voice warned. “You’ll burn.”

“Well I can’t very well help you without touching you!” Jimmy huffed.

The stranger shook his head, though. “You’re a… specialty tailor, right?” Even his voice shook.

Curiosity piqued, Jimmy crouched down to look his guest in the eye. They were a deep red, glowing like embers, and darting about nervously. At first, Jimmy thought he might have been attacked and was searching for threats. On closer inspection, however, it was his own hands and knees he kept checking, shifting, as if they were untrustworthy. Jimmy nodded. “I am. I work with avians mostly, but I can tailor for any hybrid.”

The stranger’s tail perked up at that, mouth cautiously tilting up with it. “Do you… Can you make clothing that’s fireproof?”

“I can certainly try.” He said with a raised eyebrow. He held out his hand once more, but the man flinched back once again. “You know I can’t say I’m too eager to work, however, for mysterious men who collapse on my floor and will barely look at me.”

“O-oh! Ah, yeah, ha…” Seemingly newly aware of his appearance, the man stumbled onto his feet. He still shivered, and below the drenched rags his knees wobbled like they’d never held his weight before. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to- I’m Tango.” A wide grin stretched across his face, strained almost into a grimace. Impossibly sharp teeth chattered together. 

Despite the posture he took up for a greeting, he still refused to offer his hand even in a polite handshake. That one Jimmy couldn’t say he minded. It was a greeting that was almost entirely human, for those without other appendages to utilize. He was much more familiar with a flutter and caw, or a flare of fins, or the curl of a tail. 

Jimmy tried to give as friendly a smile back as he could muster. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Tango. Call me Jimmy. Now…” With Tango on his feet the muddy puddle forming under him became evident. “Would you care to share with me why you’ve come to my shop in this… state?”

“It, well… It’s a bit of a story…” The rags were pulled tighter around him. “But, um, I need clothes, is the long-short of it.”

“I can see that, yes.” Unsure what else to do if the man would not let him touch him to help, Jimmy returned to his work desk and reached for his cabinet of manuals. “You don’t, um… Not to presume from your appearance, which I’m guessing is not some bold fashion statement or typical, but I’m assuming you aren’t looking for anything too fancy?”

A strained sound escaped him, that might have been a laugh if the poor creature in front of Jimmy wasn’t so miserable. “They don’t exactly make slops for blazeborn. Even at the mines.”

“Most hybrids around here can get away with a few personal alterations, but fireproofing is a bit of a challenge without imports from the Nether.” He pulled up some of his most basic draft designs. Undergarments, a simple shirt, trousers, maybe a jacket… No, Tango probably couldn’t afford a jacket, from the pay Fwhip told him the miners received. The feathers of his ears flexed as he tilted his head around the design in front of him. Well, there was nothing stopping Jimmy from perhaps whetting his skills by making one, that perhaps happened to fit Tango…

Tango shifted, first taking a step towards the bench that sat pushed up against the window, then froze, before he shuffled back to where he stood before. Jimmy waved his hand. “Sit, sit. This’ll take a while.”

“I- I can’t. I might…”

“It’s treated, it won’t go up in flames that easily. Besides, you’re sopping wet.”

Reluctantly, cautiously, the blazeborn made his way over. One would have thought he was about to sit down on a porcupine. Eventually, though, he managed to sit himself, and like Jimmy promised it failed to burst into flames at mere contact. Of course, he’d pulled the claim from thin air. He’d never worked with a blazeborn before and he hardly knew a thing about carpentry. It was a good guess, at least he thought so, from the fact that the floorboards were not singed.

“So, um, how long will it take?” Tango asked, finally letting himself shuffle into a more comfortable position.

Jimmy hummed as he used his talon to flip through pages. “Well, I don’t exactly have weepweave or hoglin leather lying in storage, and I can’t say I’ve seen it in the market, so I’ll have to special order it which will likely take a few weeks-”

“Wha- A few weeks ?” Tango balked.

“- But we could test some more locally available materials in the meantime, at which point it will take a few days to complete the set.”

His customer seemed wary of even that but settled down, nonetheless. “I might need, uh, at least two.”

“Two?” Jimmy frowned.

“Sets. Of clothes. This is…” He tugged on the rags. “This is all I have left.”

Jimmy stared, eyes wide and brow knotted. On closer inspection the rags maybe once were an acceptable work outfit, but they’d been ruined beyond salvaging. Torn apart and set ablaze. Jimmy guessed at least the undershirt was some type of weepweave from its slight teal colour and being the most intact piece, but the rest was cotton. 

“I see.” Said Jimmy. He walked over to his fabric stores and shuffled through his sample drawer until he found what he needed. “Gimme your arm.”

Tango hackles raised. “You’ll-”

“I’m going to have to measure and fit you later. If I can’t touch you, I can’t make clothes for you.” Jimmy tutted. “Come on, I just need to check what materials will survive.”

It took another minute of patience but eventually the blazeborn offered up his arm. Jimmy gave him a grateful chirp, a tone he hoped was calming to the non-avian. There was an odd jolt in his shoulders, but it settled as he placed the sample to his arm. 

Jimmy could feel how warm his skin really was. Too hot, but certainly not hot enough to cause fabric to burst into flames. It was more like a high fever, but he wasn’t flushed with one. Jimmy looked up to his face, which was contorted with fear, unblinkingly trained on the fabric. His hair was dampened down like he’d been caught in a rainstorm, but the strands danced on their own. Little cinders would light in them before they fizzled out into steam.

“How does this texture feel to your skin?” Asked Jimmy. To what extent he needed to specialize his work for a blazeborn was beyond his knowledge.

Tango shrugged. “It’s fine. Soft.”

“Soft?” Jimmy couldn’t help chuckle. Compared to the other wools in his collection this one was rather coarse. “Well, that’s good to know. I don’t know how hot you can become, but wool is quite resistant to fire. Burns out before it can spread. I don’t know if it’ll be too warm for you, though.”

“No! No, no, that's fine. Warm’s… good.” His tail swayed, curly up over his leg before falling back to the side. “It’s a lot colder here.”

Backing up, Jimmy offered a smile. “Then wool it is. Do you, um, I suppose you don’t have much issue with sweating?”

“No, can’t do that even if it was warm.”

“Excellent. Then, let me get measurements started.”

Tango still seemed unsure, but a polite smile formed on his lips as he nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

Measurements became awkward as they realized Tango had no clothes to wear while doing so. In the end, Jimmy offered him one of his undershirts. It was too tight around the shoulders and too long in the midsection, but it would do. Seeing the linen fail to catch fire when he wore it also did well to calm Tango from whatever situation had spooked him in the first place. In the following hours Tango offered no explanation, and so Jimmy offered no questions.

Then there was the matter of… well, rather the same matter of Tango still lacking clothing. He could not very well go out into public so indecent. They settled on Jimmy rushing his order and letting him stay overnight. “I’m probably fired and thrown out of the company barracks, anyways.” He laughed humourlessly. Jimmy was far from wealthy, but he had a bench and extra blankets. Hopefully he would have something to wear by the morning so he could retrieve his things. 

Of course, there was a good chance the man just wanders off with his new clothes to never be seen again. Tango asked Jimmy if he was worried about that very situation. What was Jimmy to do, though? Go to the police about a man who swindled him out of a few dollars of his cheapest fabric and thread? Not seeing a man run around town as bare as the day he was born was probably enough compensation. Jimmy wasn’t that stingy. 

It was probably why he wasn’t wealthy, instead stuck in a mining town whose mines were already drying up.

Jimmy wasn’t much of a cook, but he could stew up some meat and vegetables. “You might as well have some.” He didn’t give space for Tango to protest, placing a bowl in front of him.

“Is that curry?” Tango asked in awe.

“It was a gift for putting up with my brother’s... poor decorum.” A spicy scent wafted up from his spoon. Truth be told he wasn’t a fan the last time he got to try some, but there was no reason to let it go to waste.

Tango showed no hesitation after that. The curry was inhaled within minutes. “Man, I haven’t had a lick of curry since I left the Nether.” He sighed, licking his chops of the last flecks. “It’s so expensive here, like it’s a delicacy or something.”

“When you have to import the ingredients from so far, it is.”

“Mmm. Everything from the Nether is hard to get here.” Melancholy seeped into the blazeborn’s gaze. “And money’s harder to come by. You make copper on the diamond as a digger in those mines. And they take most of it just to equip you.”

Jimmy smiled sympathetically. “They don’t call it the wild west for nothing. Labour laws are merely suggestions out here.”

“You seem to be doing fine for yourself, to help out a beggar like me.” A fork pointed accusatively at the tailor. “Your brother… You mean that Grian guy, right? The profiteer.”

“He prefers the term ‘investor,’ but yes.”

“The swindler.” Tango narrowed his eyes, lower lip jutting out in a pout.

Jimmy laughed. “Indeed, that’s him.”

“He’s the reason that quack and that inventor stay in business. They sold our mine a bunch of equipment that fell apart the next day. I don’t know how they stuck around town after that. How’s a sweet apple like you fall from the same tree as that bad egg?”

“Unless you’re attempting to imply something, I think you’ve confused your metaphors.” Giggling through every word was becoming difficult to resist. Tango seemed aware of this, sharp teeth forming into a mischievous smirk.

Neither took much notice when the old grandfather clock struck eight, then nine, and then ten.

Tango twirled around in the centre of Jimmy’s studio, new clothing flaring out in all directions where it had not been properly tucked in. “How does it look?” He asked, pride shown in his stance.

With a tilt of his head, Jimmy responded, “I think I need to bring the waist a bit more.”

“More adjustments?” Immediately the netherborn deflated.

“I’m afraid that’s how it goes.”

“Clothing in the Nether is never this fitted.” He complained while Jimmy got back to work unpinning. “Neither are slops.”

Jimmy clicked his tongue, having just barely avoided stabbing his finger. If he were to keep count, Grian’s claims of harm would seem laughable beside the number of times the only one who was hurt by Jimmy’s sewing was himself. “Then asking an avian to clothe you was a grave mistake on your part.”

“Actually, I think that’s the best decision I’ve made in years. I don’t see any other handsome tailors offering to make me new clothes on his own dime.”

“Oh, stop it or I’ll take it back.” Jimmy grumbled, though his cheeks had turned red.

The doorbell chimed, forcing both men to pause and turn to the new intruder.

It was a goblin, not just any of the many from the mines - workers and children alike – but one who stood a bit taller than a goblin should. Dressed in decorated silks mixed with his rough work clothes, Fwhip was an immediately recognizable man. And it was hard not to know the man who practically owned the half-dozen mining towns in the area – or literally owned them if you were misfortunate enough to live within the neighbourhoods of barracks. In his hand was a bundle wrapped tight in a rough red weepweave cloth, and he peered around until his eyes first settled on Tango before spotting Jimmy and frowning. Jimmy couldn’t blame him, as his own mood soured significantly.

“Fwhip, what misfortune brings you back to my shop? Considering the ban and all.” He wrinkled his nose at the goblin. Perhaps it wasn’t the smartest idea to antagonize him, but intelligence rarely drove Jimmy’s choices.

Tango’s ears pinned back. “What’s up, boss?”

“So, you are here, Tango.” Fwhip ignored Jimmy and approached his – former? – employee. “I heard someone say they saw you run off here into this mediocre shop. I came to return your things- what wasn’t burnt away, at least.”

A wry smile stretched across his face as he took up the bundle. “I’m guessing my job isn’t among them?”

“You were a good employee Tango, good with the machines, but no. I can barely manage to convince folks it’s safe to still sleep in the left wing at all.”

“Is it safe?” Jimmy asked and raised an eyebrow, to which he only received a shrug. 

“I get it. Thanks for bringing my stuff.”

“If you ever need a good word put in, call me up.” Promised Fwhip. “You know, maybe this is for the best. You were always too good for the work you did.”

There was a small grunt in response. Tango had preoccupied himself with examining his belongings, which from the smell alone one could tell had not escaped whatever fiery incident had occurred. A strange sense of protectiveness – and maybe just a bit of spite – drove Jimmy to speak up on his behalf. “If that is all, we were in the middle of business, and you are still banned.”

With a pat on the back for the unemployed and an indignant snort towards the shopkeeper, Fwhip left. Good riddance, as far as Jimmy was concerned. But Tango was less joyous.

Cradled in the rough cloth were a pair of heavily burnt work boots, a half-consumed blazerod, three tins of what Jimmy assumed to be redstone from the stains, and what appeared to be…

“Are those goat horns?” Jimmy spoke incredulously. Tango chuckled.

“Durable. Good for piping redstone, and not a half-bad instrument!”

He hummed, returning to his work. “You know a bit of redstone, then? Somehow that suits you.”

“Was my job, back in the Nether. Though, even before I came here I couldn’t seem to find good work with it.”

“I heard from Mumbo and Scar that you can make light with it.”

“Yep, if you activate it then it’ll give off its own light, though usually you use it with glowstone to make lamps. It’s a bit similar to prismarine crystals or frog glass.”

“And I’m to assume the price is also similar?”

“Oh, of course.”

Tango continued his chatter about redstone and light, which evolved into machinery, the descriptions of which Jimmy found difficult to wrap his mind around. All the while he pinned and trimmed and stitched. Before either knew it, the work had been done. Jimmy had sat down, watching the blazeborn ramble on with amusement, curious to when he would notice. Once it reached a full hour, and it became clear that Tango would go on in perpetuity if not stopped by an external force, Jimmy finally spoke up.

“Tango, that’s lovely and I would very much like to hear more about clank circuits,” He softly interrupted with an outstretched hand which he gently placed on Tango’s forearm. “But if you could spare a moment, I’d very much like to know what you think of your clothes?”

“Oh? Oh!” It finally occurred to the man that there was no more work to be done, spinning on the spot to look at himself. Laughing a bit to himself, Jimmy indicated towards the large set of full-length mirrors beside him. The clothes were simple, thick for insulation and work, and dyed various dull reds and dark browns. It looked acceptable, though Jimmy was already playing with ideas for when the Nether materials came in to make something much nicer. 

For Tango’s part, he seemed pleased regardless, his tail stuttering with too much energy. “This is amazing! I watched you do it and I don’t get how you put it together.”

“Well, that’s because you don’t know what you’re looking at.” Jimmy offered. “I’m sure with your brain for machinery you could figure it out easily if you were to stick around.”

His ears perked. “Can I?” 

“Excuse me?”

“Stay, I mean.” It seemed to suddenly occur to him the oddity of his request, shrinking in on himself. “I, uh, well I don’t really have anywhere else to go, and Tumble Town has no workhouse.”

Jimmy’s wings flared in appalment. “I would never send you to one if there were! Although, I don’t exactly have comfortable long-term accommodation for you.” He hummed for a moment, thinking. “I suppose my brother has guestrooms now, if I understood correctly what I heard yesterday.” The last part he whispered to himself.

“The bamboozler?” Tango asked in disappointment.

It was all Jimmy could do to not roll his eyes. “I’d say ‘get over it’, but I grew up living with him, so I understand. Fine, you can stay here, but I’m finding you something more comfortable to sleep on at the very least.”

“I bet your bed’s comfy.” Tango grinned.

“It is, I sleep there.”

“Well, I never said you had to sleep somewhere else.”

Jimmy was already beginning to think that, perhaps, this was all one great big mistake.

[brainrotranch]

Day ???: The ranchers have a getaway by a lake. Out here there's nothing to worry about...

An apocalypse ranchers page I decided against making official, but I love it.

[dmwrites]

Sleeping arrangements in the team TIES base was a little precarious, to say the least. They hadn’t actually planned an area to sleep in, too busy trying to survive and fortify, so they mostly just plopped themselves down wherever there was room. Skizz usually fell asleep on top of the table, cuddling whatever was nearest to him (chairs, a furnace, Tango whenever he was feeling lonely). Tango slept in front of the furnaces like a cat, usually curled up on his sleeping bag, also like a cat. Etho slept amongst the crops and animals- he said he liked the earthy smell, but Impulse was pretty sure that there was also an escape tunnel in one of the water holes. And Impulse slept in a small alcove tucked away in the wall of the staircase.

It was cramped and odd, but it worked for them. Impulse didn’t mind his spot, meant he could watch people come and go, slip away unnoticed if he needed to. It wasn’t as soft and warm as his sleeping arrangements in Double Life, his brain would sometimes unhelpfully remind him when he was tossing and turning on sleepless nights, but it was good enough.

——

It was one of the sleepless nights, with Impulse tossing and turning in his sleeping bag and trying to just will himself to sleep. He could hear Skizz and Tango snoring, a badly tuned symphony of mouth sounds, and the gentle lapping of the ocean against the land.

There was a sudden soft slap of flesh on wood, and Impulse cracked an eye to see a glowing red one looking back at him. It was Etho on the stairs, and Impulse raised a couple of fingers in a lazy wave.

Etho just looked at him, and Impulse looked back. It was hard to read Etho’s expression in the dark- hell, it was hard to read Etho’s expressions period, what with the mask he kept on. Impulse raised an eyebrow, a silent question. Where are you going? Etho glanced up the stairs, then, after some kind of mental dithering, it seemed, he held out his hand to Impulse and raised an eyebrow. Want to come with me?

Impulse took Etho’s hand and got to his feet. He followed him up the stairs and out into the ocean. The water was still warm from the sunny day before, and it felt nice on his skin. Impulse followed Etho onto the land, and up the water elevator to the second floor of their tower base. Etho pulled a small bag out of a chest, then went and sat on the edge of the balcony, legs hanging off the side. Impulse sat next to him.

“Want some berries?” Etho proffered the bag to Impulse, and he saw it was full of bright red berries. “I like to keep them up here for a nighttime snack.”

Impulse chuckled and took a few. “Thanks, man.”

They ate in silence for a while. All was quiet on the horizon, just some hostile mobs walking about in the dark. Impulse glanced at Etho from time to time- it was odd, allying with Etho. Etho had always been such an enigma in Impulse’s mind, quick-witted and sharp as a tack, calculating and smart. And he was all of those things, but also just kind of to himself, always fidgeting with redstone and wires. And there was this kind of friction between him and Etho, just in short glances and the odd joke. The standard procedure was to let the old series go, leave old emotions in the past. But no one ever really forgot, not completely, anyway.

Etho looked out towards the janky clocktower near spawn, and it wasn’t hard to figure out what he was thinking about.

“It’s weird to not be… there.”

Impulse somehow knew that it wasn’t a place that Etho was talking about.

“Yeah.”

Etho turned to look at him. “You and me. And Cleo. We know…” he trailed off, looking back towards the clockers tower. “I used to think of all of you as my enemies. Especially you, because you’re so…” Etho sighed. “You were really good to him.” His eyes crinkled slightly. “As much as I hate to admit it. You loved- love, you love him like I do. He never said a bad thing about you, even when I goaded him. And you… it was, is, clear that you adore him.”

Impulse chuckled. “Well, that’s Bdubs for you. You said it yourself. You, me, and Cleo, we just know… I don’t know, man, it’s the Bdubs effect or something. I will never know him like you do, and that’s okay, but I get it. I understand.”

Etho gave him a funny look, eyebrows furrowed, looking at Impulse like he’d never really seen him properly before.

“You’re a pretty great guy, Impulse.”

Impulse bowed his head, a blush coming to his cheeks. “Oh, stop that. You are too.”

They sat in silence for a while longer, lulled by the waves. Impulse kept thinking about what Etho said, or, more specifically, what the silences between his words had meant. It felt good, being here with Etho, like someone had smoothed out the wrinkles of the fabric of their friendship. Impulse wasn’t sure what would come next, no one ever did in these life series, but he felt a little more confident that he would follow Etho until their timers ran out of life to give.

——

Additional lore I couldn’t fit into the story:

Skizz will grab anything while he sleeps. Like, you know how if you give a baby something they'll wrap their fingers around it? Yeah, that’s Skizz. He’s grabbed Tango, Tango’s sleeping bag with and without Tango in it, furnaces, crafting tables, chairs, blocks from the floor, Etho once when he was passing by to get a drink of water. Impulse, when he can’t sleep, will sometimes peer around the corner to see what Skizz is holding this time (and save Etho if he’s there). He and Etho have def played a game to see what Skizz will cuddle if they hand it to him.

[lyraofthestarsss]

RANCHER CRUMBS?? WAHHHHH

~~~

Tango (in clip): I hate pvp….

Jimmy: now come on! You say I do stupid stuff! Man was on one heart- half a heart, and he did not eat. He was not eating!

Jimmy: I have no words- Tango? Tango! Come on now, man.

Jimmy: maybe that’s why we’re ranchers, holy moly. That was silly, and I’m silly, *zoom in on Jimmy putting his fingers together* put two together. Double silly. Double life. Double rancher.

Jimmy, zoomed in: I miss you…

[scribbling-dragon]

with only feathers as your guide

summary:

With a dungeon as vast and as dark as Decked Out, there’s bound to be plenty of rumours circulating on what might lurk within the shadows, simply waiting for an opportunity to reveal itself and prey on the Hermits that dare to venture within.

The newest rumour, and probably the most interesting one Tango’s heard recently, is that there is someone else in the depths of Decked Out, waiting and watching for a moment to reveal themself. The Hermits that have spotted this mysterious figure haven’t seen them for very long, either getting distracted by a ravager appearing around the corner, or just because the mysterious person slips away before they can get a better look.

(ao3 link)

(3,100 words)

this was inspired by the Guide Jimmy fanart i saw from @hybbart recently! it was really cool and i was struck with this idea :]

Keep reading

[ghosted-jazz]

The catalyst(s)

[owtenen]

When a Ranch Becomes a Home (pt 1???)

Tango, despite his best effort, dies. Unfortunately, he has a lot more than just death to deal with after.

read my stuff of AO3!

CW: Depictions of anxiety, minor panic attacks, and tango gets blown up.

————

Tango was just thankful this game happened during the summer.

His body was still cold, and when the wind picked up, he felt the fire on his head fight for its life to stay alive. But all in all, it was better than last time. The cold winter air and stormy rainy nights made it almost impossible for the blaze born to function properly, but this time it was different.

He felt good. He had armor, he had food, he joked with his friends and made some new ones. But behind all of the it, there was a little nagging thing in the back of his mind.

It took Tango a while to realize it was anxiety.

He didn't really get anxiety, which is probably why he didn't realize it at first. He was a man on practicality, a man of smarts. He knew he could talk himself out of any anxiety he found himself clouded in, so he had never really felt the hollowness in his stomach like he did now, or the way his heart jumped when he thought about it.

It was faint though, like it wasn't really there at all. That is, of course, when Tango realized it actually wasn't there. That is was his soulmates. Whoever his soulmate was was really stressing out, and only when Tango realized it did it start to actually effect him. Like when he was talking to Bdubs and Impulse, he had to stop for a moment to breath, his soulmate had fallen off something and it hurt his ankles, but the pain in his stomach from the anxiety his soulmate felt was somehow worse. He needed to find them, whoever they were.

It got worse as he was going deeper in the cave, it started creeping into his own thoughts as well. Maybe his soulmate had a reason for being this anxious, maybe they were in trouble. Maybe he was in trouble.

An arrow shot right through his arm, and it took a minute for Tango to register the pain. He turned around quick, but there were too many monsters coming after him to process what was happening. He swung his sword with one hand, making sure to step back with each swing. He was getting through them one by one, if he just brought them to a choke point-

That's when the creeper dropped, and thats when everything went black.

~

"Common..." Jimmy found that muttering under his breath as he scaled the mountain, to actually be quite helpful. His arms and legs hurt like hell, and he was having a difficult time breathing.

He felt a shattering pain rip through his left arm, but he just shook it out and continued to climb, "Don't. Even. Think about it." Finally, he got to the top, and he looked out over the sky as he tried to catch his breath.

He felt another jab in his side, and then he felt a sharp snap in his ankle. He winced and clutched his stomach, the random bursts of pain were not helping his anxiety.

He would not be a burden to his soulmate. He would not damn them the way he had already damned himself.

He felt a few more jabs in various places around his body, and as he was thinking what on earth his soulmate was doing, he felt a searing pain ripple up his back, and he fell to the ground to die.

He wakes up sweating, he didn't think he was sweating before, but he certainly was now. He sat up from the grass and pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes, his breath coming in short, uneven huffs that made him feel like he wanted to throw up. The place on his back that hurt the most was pulsing, and he felt paralyzed.

Suddenly, he heard a tree branch crack, and a voice coming from above. Was it God? Was it Them? No. Jimmy shook his head to clear the fog that clouded his brain, looking up to see what was happening.

He saw a man in the trees. Well, calling him a man was maybe a stretch. He had seen him around, Tango if he remembered correctly. He was the blaze born that hung out with Impulse and Etho. Redstoner maybe? Wasn't this the guy with cows in the first game? Jimmy's head started throbbing along with his back, he tried to ignore it.

"Oh no...." He heard the man mutter under his breath. The flames in his hair were big and wild, and yet they didn't set the tree on fire when they jumped up to meet the bark.

"What happened, Tango?" His voice was tough, and he fliched at his tone. When he looked up, he noticed that Tango did too.

"I'm- I'm so sorry." Tango leaned over and put his head between his knees, his legs dangling off the branch. "I'm so sorry."

Jimmy took a deep breath, and then another, "What happened?" His voice was softer then, and he was satified.

Tango sniffed, and ran a hand through his flaming hair, "I was caving, and there were about 500 mobs coming at me from one side and while I was worrying about them-" He looked up, and the two soulmates made eye contact for the first time. Jimmy smiled, maybe it would ease Tango's mind. It must have, because the man in the tree paused to give Jimmy a small smile of his own, "You know, the old creeper-from-behind trick."

Jimmy nodded, looking around spawn where just a few hours ago, was filled with everyone. He realized with a jolt that he was yellow, the first yellow. He quickly took out his communicator and read the chat, every joke and taunt making the hole in his stomach grow bigger and bigger.

~

Jimmy's anxiety was just getting worse. Tango watched in silence as he watched his soulmate read the comms messages about their death. He wasn't completely oblivious, he knew the jokes that were said about him.

Cursed. Stupid. Careless. Jimmy's friends would always say they were taunting him in good fun, but Tango never felt comfortable enough to go along with it.

"Jimmy, right?" Tango hopped down a couple branches before landing on the ground, his back was still stinging, and he didn't need broken ankles on top of that.

He wanted Jimmy come out of a trance in real time, his eyes going from little glossy things to wide alert oceans. “What?”

Tango shook his head and held out his hand, “I’m Tango….” after a pause, he awkwardly added, “of the Tek variety.”

Jimmy, despite it all, chuckled softly. “I’m Jimmy.” He thought for a moment, and Tango could see the gears turning behind his eyes, “of the…. Solidarity variety?” He shook his head in disapproval. “Doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

“Good enough for me.”

Jimmy smiled, and Tango felt the anxiety lift just a bit. Until it came crashing down again, and Jimmy ripped his hand away from Tango to run it over his hair. “I have no idea where I was.” He looked back at Tango, and his wide eyes were filled with worry, “All my stuff is gone.”

Tango sighed, “Yeah. I have no idea where my stuff is either.” He thought for a moment, watch Jimmy as he began to pace around the top of the hill. He wanted to shake him, tell him to breathe and calm down.

Instead, he started picking up sticks, “Let’s make a chest here, then we can go find out stuff and meet back up.”

Jimmy turned and watched Tango, his arms were crossed and one of his hands was up near his face, and Tango raised an eyebrow while he watched Jimmy bite on his fingernail.

Tango sighed, “I’m really sorry for killing us. It’s one thing for me to explodificate myself but I didn’t want to take you down with me.”

Tango saw Jimmy smile behind his hand, and the tightening of his chest had nothing to do with the anxiety, “Explodificate?”

Tango smiled and threw some materials at Jimmy. He didn’t catch it. “Common, let’s go hide our bits in a tree.”

This time Jimmy’s head tilted back in laughter, and Tango wanted to bottle up the sound.

The anxiety didn’t come back as strong after that, and Tango was happy for it to stay that way.

————

i should be working on Problem of Etho and my other 24lsmp fics and yet here i am writing about a dead ship from a 10 month old smp …. oops?

[hybbart]

Day 594: With a very successful recent batch of hatchlings, it’s starting the get cramped. The ranchers decide it’s best to get ahead of the problem and fix up the coop they built in a rush during the fall. Or, at least Jimmy is trying to.

Chikon…

[codgod-moved]

“SORRY RANCHER” …

[bucket-of-amethyst]

For @teamranchers dtiys! The original gave me art nouveau vibes so I art nouveau-ficated it :]

[bucket-of-amethyst]

And the universe said you have played the game well

[carry-on-my-wayward-gays]

So Why Don't We Go

A wip Team Rancher fic!

Chapter 9 out now!

Rating: General Audiences

Fandom: Hermitcraft SMP, Empires SMP

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Relationships: Jimmy | Solidarity/TangoTek

Characters: Jimmy | Solidarity, TangoTek (Video Blogging RPF), Background & Cameo Characters

Additional Tags: Road Trips, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Roommates, Falling in Love, Feelings Realization, Friends to Lovers, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Cuddling & Snuggling, Camping, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, No Smut, Misunderstandings, Gay Panic, Boys in Love, Anxiety Attacks, Awkward Tension, Getting Together, Car Troubles, Autistic Jimmy | Solidarity, Hiking, Denial of Feelings, Hoodie Stealing, Museums, Dreams, Slow Burn, First Kiss, Boys Kissing, Relationship Negotiation

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[rainbowchaox]

You know?

What if ranchers become treebark now?

What if even not allying with each other or what not they still are number 1 in each other hearts?

What if tango rages and despite being not Allie’s Jimmy is the one that still calms him down. Like how Martyn to water bucket ren house because for some reason he lit it on fire,

Not Allies. But still heavily connected. The sorta of magnetism that treebark naturally has but make it rancher.

[apollos-boyfriend]

my only wish for this season is that jimmy doesn’t fucking DIE first for ONCE in his life

[apollos-boyfriend]

you have ONE job gayboy. do not fumble it for the FOURTH TIME IN A ROW

[ashiyn]

okay then!

[antimony-medusa]

“Not showing enough skin I guess. If I showed my mouth though, that would do it, woudln’t it?” —- motherfucking ETHOSLAB