WAIT GUYS HOLY FUCK I JUST REALIZED SOMETHING

BOTH MARTYN AND BDUBS BOOGEY KILLED TANGO IN LAST LIFE AND NOW IN LIMITED LIFE TANGO’S BOOGEY KILLED BOTH OF THEM 

BRUH I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD THIS SHIT IS SCRIPTED 

come get yer Laughin'stock! get it hot off the press! free Laughin'stock right here!

feeling bad about my art lately. will probably not post for a while. but i wanted to at least dump some stuff here before i retreat into my hidey hole

For the first time throughout RnS, I have slightly shifted my opinion from "Tanguish needs to be protected at all costs" to "actually someone needs to talk some sense into this headless chicken of a self preserving punk" and I mean this with so much positivity. I live Tanguish as character a lot because he at a glance is harmless and kind, and while he is pretty sweet, he's also pretty self serving at his core. A survivalist who will use whatever tactics he can to make his life as comfortable as seems feasible. He's just a little guy whom I love, but also needs a bit of insight into other perspectives and I'm so excited for the next chapter.

He's just a little guy! He's just a little guy and he needs people! Needs-- like he needs-- like it's a problem he needs people.

But you're absolutely right! He is trying his best, that's evident. Everyone can sympathize with the idea of loneliness, and of not wanting other people to hurt themselves, and of needing companionship. The issue is when his need for companionship overrides both his ability to be comfortable alone, and everyone else's ability to live their own life. He's really good at figuring out how people work, why they do the stuff they do, and right now he's using it to feed his codependency problems.

But! He's learning.

Shoutout to the people playing bg3 who have trouble romancing astarion i literally got him propositioning me before even getting to the goblin camp raid party best of luck in your future endeavors

“how do you talk to star?” - title from the song of the same name by everybody’s worried about owen (since it’s back up, ao3 link is here!) characters: jimmy (mainly)/tango cw: none unless you consider the insane amount of introspective themes throughout this thing. so! little note! guess who wrote something new and finished it. for the first time in months. it is short, i am rusty, and i DEFINITELY wouldn’t say it’s my best work but i like the concept a lot and churned this short and sweet little introspective fic last night in a writing haze! i missed four calls from my family members help.

It is based on this prompt list, specifically number 7. :) hope you all enjoy this super short, ramble-y, jimmy is very much pining one-shot! ~

Jimmy has learned it takes nothing. Barely a glance, he has found, for all of the sediment—that he thought was long stationary—to be kicked up again, to clog every artery and leave him struggling to breathe.  His conundrum lies in the side profile of Tango. The curve of the tip of his forehead, drooping into the bridge of his nose and rolling over two delicate hills of pretty, thin lips. Yes, he with the dancing eyebrows and teeth flashing, pulling against his lip when he grins and eyes that almost sparkle in sync. Tango—devastatingly, heart-achingly, undeniably and beyond beautiful Tango who has yet to notice his staring.  If Jimmy were to be grateful for anything, he’d be grateful for the obliviousness of his quarry.  Tango, in a stunning move, laughs without a care in the world. It’s so loud and clear and Jimmy feels a smirk tugging at the corner of his lip, the cause of such being obvious to anyone who may notice his ogling. Though, making a home in the corner of this crowded living room, he has no intentions of intruding. Of course, maybe he wishes he was the one making Tango laugh like that. Maybe he wishes that intoxicating gaze could be on him, rather than those who engage him. “You know, you can just go talk to him, right?” Grian asks, a gentle nudge of Jimmy’s elbow making him turn. Jimmy snorts.  Maybe that’s the problem, isn’t it? Jimmy probably could just go talk to him. He’d been watching him for so long, for so many occasions—if he were a more attentive man, he’d have studied the patterns by now. He’d understand every little joke, made a note of everything that could make him more appealing, more fun to talk to. Instead, he gets lost in it. When he tries to keep track, he fails. Being analytical was never his strong suit, and it never failed him more than when he was trying to figure out how to talk to the one he is very much in love with. The one who, as far as he knows, is very much not in love with him.  “We talk,” Jimmy says, “We’re just friends, that’s what friends do” “Yeah, Tim, and I’m just an idiot.” “You said it, not me.” Jimmy tries to say it seriously, but he can’t help the grin. “I bet he’d like to chat. You two always get along well,” Grian says, dodging the jab flawlessly and turning his eyes to Tango, the two now watching from the shadows.  “Well- yeah, I guess.”  Another problem. They did get along well. Too well, in fact. He had friends, had people who he could count on and talk to or laugh with. Jimmy even knew what it felt like to be flirted with, to be teased in that way. But it never quite felt the same when it was with Tango. And it just confused him anyway, was Tango flirting with him? Was he flirting back? He knows well that sometimes he just stumbles into things without looking first, that was no doubt. It could very well be that Jimmy was just fooling himself, wandering into something that he didn’t get a good look at before exposing his neck to the danger of misinterpretation.  Maybe, in reality, Tango was just indulging him—even if he is a really, really good guy, the concept was dangerously easy for Jimmy to trust.  “I just think that if you’d get off your perch and just go up to him, or wave or- geez, just stop staring and do something, it’d probably be fine.”  “I appreciate your suggestions, but I am comfortable right here,” Jimmy says, “He’s busy, anyway- see?” He nods up in the general direction of Tango, noting how he is casually conversing with Impulse and Zed, who keep him engaged. Grian groans.  “Not gonna be busy forever, man.” “Well, I can’t go talk to him right now, then. Maybe later.”  He feels Grian clap a hand onto his shoulder, sighing. “Whatever you say, Tim. But those feelings are just going to fester till you say something, you know.” “..I’ll- I’ll take my chances,” Jimmy mutters, swallowing hard.  He only glances at Grian for a second while he moves off into the rest of the party, not bothering to track where he’s heading once he leaves.  When he finds Tango again, there’s not much of a difference. Zed left. Impulse still has him explaining something. He can tell by how his hands move, how his gestures get big and small and create the shapes of whatever figures are drawn out in his mind. Jimmy always admired that. He’d gotten it up close, once, when Tango got into one of his redstone rambles and talked at Jimmy while he just nodded and smiled and listened, despite having zero clue about what he was saying. Jimmy may not be good at redstone, but he’s sure if he was asked what he liked about Tango, he would go into the same sort of ramble. Big hand gestures, small hand gestures—anything to properly convey how smitten he had him.  Tango had no idea.  Jimmy was sure, at this point, he was destined for a forever’s worth of pining. A lifetime of restless stomachs, of rocking heartbeats that sound more like scattered drums than something meant to keep him alive. He will spend the majority of his days avoiding the fire and getting used to the cold of the corners, growing fond of the way his eyes glaze over as if he has stared at the sun for a little too long. … and.. still.  Something inside of him roared, clawed at its cage and said let me out, said tell him. He couldn’t really tell what was holding him back—was it just fear? Anyone would be scared to confess, sure. It could be the rejection, the dreamt up, awkward and letting-you-down-easy smile. The sorry, I’m just not into you that way. Or, maybe, it was the worry that things would go well. After all, they had gotten to know each other closely. Teaming up will do that to you. Talking almost every day will do that to you. Running into each other at parties, taking walks, talking about redstoning and building and bearing your every wound to each other almost shamelessly on the bad days and sharing in the joys on the good days, as if it was always meant to be just like this. Jimmy feels himself suddenly come back into himself like a head slamming into a wall, taking note of an astonishing development.   Tango is looking at him. Impulse now gone from sight, he leans against the same wall, but he is looking. Then offering an adorable wave with a tiny smile, Tango straightens his shoulders when Jimmy waves back, like some attempt to make himself look taller—and with the rush of feelings rolling over Jimmy, he feels adrenaline-fueled laughter forcing its way to the surface; it comes out in a quiet wheeze.  It finds him right away. The familiar sensation of Jimmy’s insides dropping like a sinking building, leaving nothing but dust-caked breaths that feel sticky, catching in his throat with every other inhale. He is a ruined mess of a man. A weak, mumbled puddle of warmth and heavy pulses and heat.  He is fucked. Royally, deeply, this-is-it fucked. And they stay that way for seconds, but it feels like years, and Jimmy can’t get enough of it.  Loving someone does feel quite good, doesn’t it? And maybe, being loved right back could feel even better. If he could just get over himself and try.

so a little while back I was talking to my sibling about jin guangyao’s customer service smile, used a pic of a meerkat to make my point and then was like Wait, actually I might be onto something here

cuz both JGY and meerkats? they are smol, got deceptively cute-looking, friendly faces + large dark eyes and seem so nice exCEPT

yup :)

and now i have a bunch of meerkat-jin-guangyao drawings

bonus; the pic i made that started this nonsense

I have a lack of sympathy for Thingol, Dior, and Elwing and here’s why:

Ngl, i’d feel more sympathy for dior, elwing, thingol, etc if they didn’t all collectively decide a shiny rock, that they had absolutely no claim over and kept from their rightfull owners, over their own people.

Sons of feanor: hey, can we have our father’s greatest creation, that morgoth killed out grandfather for, back?

Thingol, Dior, Elwing: yeah, about that... see, it’s very shiny and i like it very much so imma just... keep it.

Sons of feanor: but it literally does not belong to you??? Stealing it doesn’t make it yours? And it’s literally one of the only things we have left of our trees of light? And once more our father created it? And it was stolen from him? You should really just give it back?

Thingol, Dior, Elwing: but it’s mine now. I have it.

Sons of feanor: you are aware that we have sworn an oath, a soul binding oath, that forces us to kill and get rid of any one and anything in our way to get them back, right? Like, we don’t want to, but we will due to this oath.

Thingol, Dior, Elwing: so?

Sons of feanor: we will literally resort to kinslaying to get these jewels back due to the oath, never mind that it literally does not belong to you and is our father’s creation, holds the light of our trees, and caused the death of our grandfather. Listen, we are trying to resolve this peacefully, bc we also do not want to resort to kinslaying, so give us OUR thing back. You are not beholden to an oath. Not that that should matter. Literally GIVE US OUR SHIT BACK.

Thingol, Dior, Elwing: nah

Sons of feanor: oh my fucking god *kinslays* we fucking warned you you dumbass! *kinslays again* all you had to do was give us our thing back, it literally does not belong to you. *kinslays* we fucking told you about the oath, but did you listen? No! Do you even care about your own people? Like, what is this shit?

Thingol, Dior, Elwing: *dies* *cries about how it’s unfair*

(Look, do i acknowledge and understand that what the feanorians did with the kinslaying is wrong? Yeah. Do i also acknowledge and understand that Thingol, Dior, and Elwing could have avoided all of this if they had just given the jewels that they had not right to back? Absolutely. Even ignoring how they had no right to the silmarils in the first place, as leaders of their people, they did not do right by their people by putting a shiny rock over their people (especially considering they were not under oath) especially considering they were given the option to resolve it peacefully and were given warning)

(To be completely honest, Thingol, Dior, and Elwing continuously acting as if they had a right to the silmarils is very much like how the museums dig up ancient tombs, pilfers the treasures, take it all to their land and display it, all without a second thought to the people and descendants of the rightful owners, and disregard the cultural value for the original people, and thenget bitchy when the people of the country and culture want their history ancestors possessions back)

The only one i’ll give lenience to is elwing bc she was young, had not parental guidance, and withholding the jewel was probably also partly driven by spite, but Thingol and Dior have no leg to stand on what so ever.

Lastly, i’d like to state that this is what I think, this is my opinion and you are absolutely free and welcome to have your own. If you have a different opinion, feel free to post it on your own time and in your own post.

I wrote this around midnight last night, mixing the clear exhaustion in Tango’s voice after working on DO for what must’ve been at least six hours and vague wonderings about how Mrs. T would factor into in-game reality when she’s not a player. As usual, I make no promises about quality.

It had been awhile since he was reduced to this state. As Decked Out had neared completion, he'd started catching up on sleep, trying to look presentable for the main event. But little problems piled up and turned into big ones, and his attempt to fix a glitch created a much larger issue, and he had twenty (or twenty thousand) things on his plate still... So here he was. Elbow-deep in redstone wiring, long after the last Hermit had turned in for the night, trying to remember what he was fixing.

Tango? He didn't even acknowledge the voice. It wasn't the first time he experienced auditory hallucinations, though normally it took a week or so of sleep deprivation. Was the card-calling working? Joe had run earlier, and it had worked, but something could've happened since then. He'd also brought those splash potions for the ravagers, which was very kind of him. Would they work on Wardens as well? Pain was still taking damage from an unknown source, and he needed to make sure that there weren't more escapes. He fumbled for his elytra and fireworks, trying to untangle himself and fly over to Level 3...

Tango. You're spiraling. Now he recognized the voice. The ephemeral presence that always had his back. She was as real as any of the Hermits, and they whole-heartedly agreed with him. He didn't overthink the implications of her existence, trusting in the part of him that was separate from what he knew. All he needed to know is that she completed him, comforted him when he hit rock-bottom, laughed at his jokes and misfortune alike, was there for him in a way that he couldn't fathom being without.

Wow, you're really out of it, dear. Do you know how late it is? Honestly? He didn't. He knew Joe had done a run around 7, but he hadn't looked at a clock since resuming work. Who cared about that, anyways? If he didn't look at the time, he wouldn't see just how long it took to solve an issue that should've been prevented months ago. It didn't feel like it had been too long, anyways. He'd been working at a good pace, and the new ravager was in place already. But did he fix the issue with Reckless Charge? That line wasn't too far away...

It's almost 4 in the morning, you shouldn't be handling explosives. Regrettably, she was right; he'd almost equipped his elytra fatally incorrectly, thoughts racing (wandering, really) miles ahead of his hand-eye coordination. He could still walk, though, or at least sort through the statistics given to him by the viewers. There was so much left to do, if he could only keep his eyes focused on the line in front of him and where to redirect it...

You're exhausted. Come on, love. A gentle, familiar tug on his wrist guided him out of the maze of redstone lines and audio systems, lovingly ignoring his half-coherent protests. He leaned into the touch anyways, needing something to ground himself amidst the abstract whirlwind of panic and partially-finished items on the list (in reality, they were almost all complete, but that felt impossible to comprehend). Plans sketched and resketched themselves in his head as he was led to his storage room, Clank increased with endermites — no, wolves — no, blazes — no, floors dropping out — no...

His knees hit the edge of his bed, and he collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. All the desperation that had kept him going seeped out from his bones, leaving him exhausted and hollow. He felt her subtle warmth and presence curling around him, the hand on his shoulder promising rest. A sound somewhere between a sigh and a sob escaped him; he'd poured so much of himself into this, and he was so incredibly, deeply tired.

I know. Tomorrow is another day. Just rest for now. Knowing fingers started gently running through his hair as he closed his eyes, sinking into the sensations of being loved and cared for.

okay everyone hold hands

its the last limited life session tomorrow

Peekaboo!

Joel, limited life episode 7

[ID: a minecraft screenshot from limited life at night, taken at the top of the mouldy bread bad boys potato pier bridge, but below m-rye-5 / skynet 2.0. why does this have so many names. Grian’s bread house in the sky. Tango is in the bread house, and the viewer, joel, is on the roof. Tango has just broken a moss block to try and get on the roof. Only his head, arms, and chest are visible, framed by about a block and a half gap. He’s looking directly at the viewer, his right hand still swinging to break the moss. He’s holding a tool of some kind but it’s impossible to tell what it is other than the purple glow on enchanting. He has a shield in his offhand, and he’s wearing an enchanted diamond chestplate. End ID]

lost in the dark (he's got a heavy heart) | Chapter 2

Summary:

He wakes.

It's a slow drift into consciousness– his awareness flickers and fluctuates at indeterminable points, registering the mumble of voices and soft warmth before fading back out again. A hand brushing against the backs of his fingers. Cool air ruffling past his ear. Whispers too low to catch more than the faint rise and fall of tone.

But eventually, he begins to surface. The first thing he truly registers is temperature; the void between worlds is a nothing-place, where code is boiled down to its barest components. There is no concept of hot or cold– there simply is, and is not, in between the smatterings of what could be stars but are actually player servers. Grian can't remember when the last time he'd felt temperature was, but he's feeling it now– the warm caress of sunshine, bleeding over the paltry heat his own body tries to supply. There's a weight over him, too, a soft but steady pressure: blankets. Grian shifts, restless; he's lying on his side, wings trapped beneath the covers, and the ambient warmth is beginning to stifle him.

His limbs feel like they're made of lead, but he rolls his shoulders anyway, dislodging some of the blankets to let cool air slip between his feathers. Grian sighs at the sensation, and some of the tension stringing throughout his body eases. He's not sure where he is, but for the first time in months, in almost a year, he's– comfortable.

He's comfortable.

Grian's not sure what that means.

hello everyone hunger au chapter 2 is finally here :] Local Bird Awake And He Is Not Happy About It. Hope you guys enjoy!!!

oh also heres my little guys / story spotify playlist.. its kind of disjointed as in the songs represent different character perspectives / sometimes just general story vibes tbh

he :D

from the stream on 21 feb!! (eating all the Arizona dads content on a silver platter)

Random limlife Scott rant, GO!

I got this ask and decided that I’d give it my best shot but got so mad on my skim through some of the moments I remembered that I gave up.

i don't think tango and jimmy will be first to red on double life (they're not as reckless as other duos... cough cough etho joel) but im convinced they'll be the first victims of whoever the first reds are, as the universes favourite punching bags.