#Jimmy Akin

[apenitentialprayer]

Can't stop thinking about how Jimmy Akin accelerated his entrance into the Church so that he and his wife could receive Communion together at least once before she died of cancer.

#:((((( #Catholicism #Christianity #Jimmy Akin #love #romance

[rosecorcoranwrites]

It's like Unsolved Mysteries, but BETTER!

Today, I rave about Jimmy Akin's Mysterious World, a podcast featuring unsolved crimes, cryptids, fake mediums, real psychic spies, a great big bushy beard, and aliens (because it's always aliens).

Watch the show on Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BdvIB5vpPig&list=PLNbswtWzJYCK9g5gYH26HcUC-0hIDlftF

Visit the show's page on Star Quest: https://sqpn.com/podcasts/jimmy-akins-mysterious-world/

ALSO! If you watch to the end of the video, there's a special ironic bonus of a clip I thought I'd edited out of the beginning of the video randomly appearing at the end of the video, right after I talked about learning to edit (I haven't learned, yet, ok?). But I already spent an hour uploading the video to YouTube, so it's staying, and dash the consequences!!!!

#vlog #podcast rec #parapsychology #cryptids #psychics #aliens #ghosts #mediums #stargate project #jimmy akin #rant rave review #podcast recommendations #podcast review

[kittycats0001]

Akinator descubriendo a todos los Nicktoons 🤌🏻

(ME AVIA SALIDO UN BOB CHOLO JAJAJAJA)

#fairly oddparents #nicktoons unite #timmy turner #los padrinos magicos #jimmy neutron #nickelodeon #jimmy y timmy #jimmyxtimmy #jenny #bob esponja #danny phantom #danny fenton #manny rivera #el tigre #akinator

[lhi2010]

man i love infodumping about akinator’s right guesses

#lhi sez stuff!!! #akinator #wwe #wrestling #wrasslin stuff #jey uso #jimmy uso #the usos #hey arnold #big bob pataki #el chavo del ocho #quico #metalocalypse #dethklok #Nathan Explosion #rhythm heaven #Pose for da fanz #kayloo #Triple H #Shawn Michaels #x pac

[genextsofuniverse]

E aí Jimmy, já conheceu a Jenny?

Jimmy: Eu soube que ela está aqui, mas ainda não a conheci. Ela disse que vai passar aqui mais tarde, só está resolvendo uns problemas lá com a Megan. Não sei o que isso quer dizer, pergunto depois.

Akin: Ah ela só deve estar tendo que explicar pra Megan e pros amigos dela porque ela fez todo mundo acreditar que meu pai era o pai dela também. Foi uma das condições pra ela vir junto.

Jimmy: Como é que é?

#jimmy howlett #Akin Munroe

[ju-ji]

I’m spiraling…. was the breakup scene day NOT out of character? Do you think that decision was consistent with who he was before that? Is the day I couldn’t accept the same day I loved so dearly? That would mean day never matured or grew at all in his relationship with mhok….. he grew to be at peace with blindness (mhok was the catalyst for this) and he fixed his broken relationships (……mhok was the catalyst for this) so I guess I took that as indication of overall growth but was I lying to myself? If day didn’t grow then is the day I loved the out of character one??? If I loved a make believe version of day then did I truly love day at all????? Did I only think I loved day bc mhok loved day!!!!!!!!! Did I love day just because I came to love sea!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#do I love mhok then or do I just love jimmy???? do I love mhokday or do I just love jimmysea!!!!!!!!!!! #the finale is so perplexing to me that it’s making me question the whole show and every thought and feeling I ever had about it #I feel like this is akin to gaslighting 😭😭😭 making me wonder if I was wrong about everything this whole time #was day always shitty and was mhok always one dimensional???????? were they truly so poorly written this whole time and never improved???? #were they ever the same on screen as they were in my head!!!!! #this for reference is me goin thru it so scroll past without making eye contact

[taylorswiftstyle]

MTV Video Music Awards | September 12, 2023

Versace custom gown (pictured similar)

As is her way, Taylor can only be consistently expected to do one thing: subvert expectations. Swiftly (some might say) bypassing an opportunity to plug any of the three albums she’s either released, or is on the precipice of releasing, she went straight to a very reputation-coded Versace gown. The likes of famed supermodel lore or legendary Liz Hurley status. It’s sexy, it’s slinky, it’s very distinctively signature Versace - using Medusa-embossed buttons in a pseudo snap closure style instead of the more overt safety pin (this detail continues on the strappy open criss-cross back all the way down the back to the end of her train, which is worth a look on its own).

I personally love a classic Versace look such as these. They’ve been done, and done a lot. But I can’t fight a classic sexy siren gown like this. The decision to forego Taylor’s signature red lip, I think, is a smart one that prevents the look from going too overboard. In my opinion, the styling choices were either pile on the jewels or pile on the crimson lip. And Taylor/her team went for the former - something that’s atypical of her style. The mussed hair with the trailing pieces left out of their updo feel “roll out of bed” intimate and sensual and feels akin to the curly bangs from the reputation photoshoot. But I can’t help but think an uber sleek blowout could have been great here. 

If indeed a nod to reputation, I’ve always seen that album as one of two diametrically opposed forces: the external perceptions of who you are vs the internal realizations of the life you’re quietly building. To use a dress with so many asymmetrical details (the bodice, the straps, and even in the movement of the button detailing literally splicing her in half) as an embodiment of that would be quite appropriate. It’s also a smart use of a brand’s signature design details to (possibly) use for your own means.

Not to mention this is precisely the kind of dress at least I would envision buying so someone else could take it off. 

Worn with: Anita Ko + Maria Tash + VCA + David Webb + Ita + vintage jewelry, Foundrae + Jacquie Aiche + vintage bracelets, and Jimmy Choo sandals

#taylor swift #award #dress #versace #september 2023 #mtv vma

[cryptid-on-a-string]

ok folks, go to the akinator website, answer all the questions as yourself but say its a fictional character. what character do yall get????

BECAUSE I GOT JIMMY FUCKING NEUTRON

[911bts]

(link to official post from IATSE's twitter account)

IATSE's Area Standards Locals Pen Joint Letter as ASA Negotiations with AMPTP Begin:

Dear members, Today, the 23 Area Standards Agreement (ASA) Locals begin negotiations with the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers (AMPTP) in Los Angeles, with the ASA Bargaining Committee presenting an initial package of members' demands.

For nearly a year, we have surveyed and listened to you, our members, and worked with our Local bargaining committees to define your priorities.

Partnering with the International bargaining team, we've crafted formal proposals that reflect your feedback.

Over the next two weeks, our goal is to enhance the working conditions and economic standards of every member working under the Area Standards Agreement.

Our proposals include: - Significant wage increases - Uniform benefit rate for all jurisdictions with significant increases - Protections against AI - Improving rest periods and increasing penalties - Overtime improvements - Additional holidays - Revising and/or eliminating specific sideletters - Sick leave enhancements. - Improved safety and specialized work provisions

Our goal is to build on the foundation we started three years ago by continuing to improve working conditions in the ASA.

We are committed to securing substantial contributions into the National Benefit Funds to replenish the fund's reserves and your individual CAPP accounts to pay for your health insurance. We are also deeply aware of our members' desire to improve annuity and pension contributions to help secure your future retirement.

Together, we are stronger. We remain united and committed to securing a tentative agreement that all 23 Locals will be pleased to ratify. We will continue to keep you updated throughout this process.

In solidarity, Joseph Miller, Business Agent Local 38 Simonette Berry, Business Agent Local 478 Melissa Purcell, Business Agent Local 488 Gordon Hayman, Business Manager Local 493 Robert Morales, Business Representative Local 122 Mike Akins, Business Agent Local 479 Sierra Robinson, Business Agent Local 488 Luis Neftaly Nieves, Business Agent Local 494 Cynthia O'Rourke, Business Agent Local 161 Bryan Evans, Business Representative Local 480 Mike (Bubba) Matesic, Business Agent Local 489 Irish Barber, Business Agent Local 665 James Butler, Business Agent Local 209 Chris O'Donnell, Business Manager Local 481 Kellie Larson, Business Agent Local 490 Apple Thorne, Business Representative Local 720 Pam Boyd, Recording Secretary Local 336 Laura King, Business Manager Local 484 Darla McGlamery, Business Agent Local 491 Rosemarie Levy, Business Representative Local 798 Jimmy Roberts, Business Manager Local 477 David O'Ferrall, Business Agent Local 487 Peter Kurland, Business Agent Local 492 Carl Mulert, National Business Agent USA829

#iatse

[raticalshoez]

Man, there is just something so fascinating to me about the Boat Boys because I think their relationship has always been akin to like...the rockiest of waters (pun intended). I've just been thinking so much about it...

In 3rd Life, funnily enough, one of their first interactions was just them riding a boat together. In Last Life, Joel ended Etho's series. Even before being soulbonded they've had that sort of "me and the bestie/can't stand his fakeass" dynamic.

If anything was evident in Double Life, it's that they had fun together. It's safe to say they probably weren't the most loyal to one another, mainly due to Etho and his Bdubs withdrawal, but it would be wrong to say that they didn't enjoy each other's company. They both have the urge to cause chaos, but one's more upfront about it and the other is more subtle. They complimented each other and balanced out the other, and when the time came around, they died together poetically.

Limited Life was definitely...a season for Joel and Etho interactions. This season was filled with animosity, and constant jabs, and bitter callbacks to a past life. Boat Boys this season were just killing or insulting each other left and right, not finding a moment of comfort or piece around each other.

Then there's Secret Life. This one in particular makes me kind of insane because there's both the animosity and bite to their words when they're interacting with one another, but there was also sincerity. For a brief moment, these two were able to express genuine care that they still had for one another, and that's just crazy to me. Both Joel and Etho's characters don't know sincerity and always deal more mushy, heartfelt things awkwardly, so this was CRAZY for me. And it always hits harder for me because I've always just imagined Joel and Etho's relationship to just be a very strong, platonic bond. They have people who they are definitely closer to; Joel has people like Lizzie, Grian and Jimmy, and Etho has people like Bdubs, Cleo, and Tango. Those are people that they tend to naturally gravitate towards, but the two of them will always end up crossing paths. And well, that's what being soulmates is really about, right? It's not really about romance; it's about being bound to find this particular person in every universe, no matter what.

Out of all the people on the server, I never expected it to be them. Etho and Joel, the two guys who never seemed to be able to let go of their soul bond when everyone else had moved on to some capacity.

It's like how Martyn never left winter. It's like how Jimmy and Tango will always be each others' ranchers even though they no longer reside at the ranch. It's like how Scar and Grian know monopolies better than anyone. Cleo will always be caught up on BigB's betrayal and Lizzie will remain bitter about Cleo's destructive tendencies towards her home. Impulse will never let go of Bdubs' betrayal. It's the way Scott seems somewhat attached to literally ALL of his exes. The lifers just cannot be normal about each other and every new season adds to their insanity regarding one another.

If you've reached the end of this, I commend you. I'm not adding anything new to this conversation, I'm just yapping and blabbling about the Minecraft series that changed my life and altered my brain chemistry. These worms eat at my neurons everyday and I just HAVE to tell somebody, ANYBODY about my insanity.

#trafficblr #ethoslab #smallishbeans #double life smp #secret life smp #have i just become a boat boys fan account what is this #i blacked out and i just has words on my screen #will anyone even read this thing all the way through or will i just appear mentally ill #it is 2 am and i am just lying in bed writing this on my phone #boat boys #forgot that tag again

[wren-kitchens]

I saw scott breaking up scar and jimmy and ran with the idea

anyway, jealous scott and jealous tango ‘pretending’ to date in the hopes that it’ll make jimmy jealous too (spoiler, it doesn’t)

“I still don’t understand how you could date jimmy and not know your own love language.”

scott is leant against a cherry tree, tango’s head in his lap, gently braiding his hair. it’s honestly quite nice—the heat that radiates off tango at all times seems to also radiate off his hair, warming scott’s frozen fingers from hours of sanding down fences. he honestly regrets how much wood he used—not only in containing livestock, but in and around his build too. sanding is an absolute nightmare—usually he wouldn’t care for a few splinters, but considering they no longer heal, scott doesn’t really want to risk it.

one benefit of this pretend relationship is that the autumn air seems to have no affect on him anymore, what with the blazeborn heat scott seems to have absorbed. scott wonders if, when tango pulls a muscle, he can just use his hands as heat packs. something twists in his gut as his mind follows that thought with the idea of tango helping jimmy with his heat-pack hands.

(oddly enough, scott is more upset at the idea of tango’s heat being given to someone else, and not that jimmy was being helped by another. he decides not to think about it too much.)

tango scoffs, slightly defensive. “well, it’s-“

“wait, isn’t your island called love island?” scott grins, enjoying the look on tango’s face a little more than he expected to. his signature pouty frown. 

“I never said I was good at this!” tango huffs. “in fact, I definitely mentioned that I was very bad at this several times. so, y’know- that’s your fault.”

“well, get better.” scott flicks tango’s forehead, laughing as he protests. “if you don’t know, then i’ll have to ask jimmy. he’ll have figured it out.”

“that could be a good idea actually.” tango says, clearly giving up on the pout. scott has to admit, he’s a little disappointed; it was cute. and funny- mostly funny.

“what do you mean?”

“like- you could play it off as trying to figure out how to be a better partner, y’know?” tango says, and scott hums in understanding.

“that’s a good plan.” scott says. “you know, it’s lucky you’re smart, because i have to be the pretty one in this relationship.”

tango snorts, and his hair catches on fire for a split second. scott expects it to hurt, but the sensation is akin to stepping into a hot bath. huh. “is that a compliment?”

“it can be whatever you want it to be, sweetheart.” scott grins.

#emberfrost #snowbugs #tango x scott #scott x tango #idk their tags are all over the place #secret life #trafficshipping #trafficblr #wren writes

[apenitentialprayer]

TIL Jimmy Akin thinks Neanderthals are "extremely likely" to have had rational souls, i.e., to be theologically human beings.

#Neanderthal #Catholicism #Christianity #Jimmy Akin #humanity

[minecraftbookshelf]

Marriage of State: The King of Rivendell

Xornoth only really has one look throughout the AU, with a few minor variations and, of course, The Armor Edition TM.

Once again the primary sources for inspiration are the skin for the character in question and the architectural style of their home empire, in this case, Rivendell. Rivendell also draws (canonically) on Tolkein's elves, though only incidentally. I've opted to take that and run with it so the original Rivendell, and other elements of Lord of the Rings, both elvish and mortal, are incorporated. The other major contributors are viking-era Scandinavia, and Rohan, also from lotr.

The Elf Xornoth skin is a recolored version of Scott's base Rivendell skin with a few other minor changes (one shoulder cape, long pants)

Technically speaking the Demon Xornoth skin isn't super relevant to their design for the AU, but I wanted to throw it on here anyway, as something to keep in mind.

So the easiest way of doing this is going to be top to toe I think so we'll start with the antlers!

There are three main points (no pun intended) regarding Xornoth's antlers.

They are probably not as big as you think they are, because Xornoth has only had two or three sheds. They are adult antlers, but young adult antlers.

For antler design I've based them off of Scottish Red Deer.

They are made of obsidian and have been ever since Xornoth first allowed Exor into their head.

Under the antlers, Xornoth has magenta hair (just past shoulder length with the slightest bit of curl) and eyes, though the eyes tend to be a bit pinker when they are having A MomentTM

They do wear jewelry but its usually fairly simple. Earrings, an antler ring or two. They only wear their crown when they absolutely have to.

Their wings are Snowy Owl wings

specifically, snowy owl wings with a higher proportion of black on them, as in the images above, especially the one on the right.

-

Xornoth tends to dress relatively utilitarian as well, in dark colors that stand out among the blues most common in Rivendell, they usually wear black and autumn colors.

As far as style goes, the heaviest inspiration is the lord of the rings films, specifically simpler elvish styles, such as those worn by Legolas, especially in Rivendell or Lothlorien. (The main thing coming from the actual Xornoth skin is the single conclusion of "knee high boots") But with embroidery more akin to what you see in Rohan where it contrasts rather than blends in

Like so.

Rivendell has a lot of embroidery and knotwork incorporated into their clothes, a lot of it with gold-thread as well. Especially for royalty.

Xornoth does wear a cloak, it is designed to be fairly easy to remove for flying reasons, but is a sturdy and warm piece of clothing regardless, due to Xornoth being cold all the time.

Their armor is netherite, in style its basically just this

When Xornoth is older and starts wearing longer robes more often (currently only when they absolutely have to at extremely formal occasions) they will basically just be dressing like Elrond. Color pallet and style and all.

They also usually have at least one sword on them, often two.

-

Lizzie || Jimmy || Joel ||

-

Art

Lizzie || Jimmy || Jimmy Eeveelution

#rain rambles #marriage of state au #xornoth #look what i found! #thats one thing checked off the list of 'lost and found in the drafts folder' #mos character designs #empires smp #empires s1 #next up is pixlriffs #also really wanna write a my immortal style description for Xornoth now #mos: worldbuilding #mos: xornoth

[rhapsoddity]

i’m assuming that xornoth and his friends are all twitch streamers (or if the sun has an equivalent of twitch lol) how popular are they all?

i’ve seen it is many different ways how close of a question is asking someone if/what their power is in this au? like just common get to know someone question, or reserved for if your really close with someone?

Xornoth and Equinox have niche mid sized communities, whereas Aurelius and Worm are fairly small streamers

(Equinox is Evil X and Aurelius is Helsknight for those who don't remember the names I gave them lol)

Generally, your powers are private, whereas being a hybrid is a more open topic, more akin to asking where you're from. Obviously, some people are more reserved or more open than others, but that's the general gist.

For example, Jimmy is very private about both his powers and hybrid status. People that know his family would know he's a hybrid too, but its not obvious just looking at him. Sausage has known Jimmy for years so knows he's a hybrid, but Joel only found out more recently when Jimmy's become close enough to him

#ask #vigilante sheriff au

[canarydarity]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It just—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t follow—parasite? What pa—”

Right, he wasn’t alone. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Why aren’t you mad?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, not—that’s not what I meant.”

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

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

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

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

He looked away from Tango, “Well—”

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

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

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

—resigned. 

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

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

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

“At?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You are, though.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, Tango!” Jimmy whined.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not?”

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

“I’m serious, Tango.”

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

“Yes...” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Tango wasn’t mad. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not going to hit you, Jimmy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jimmy closed his eyes. He didn’t know. 

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

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

“I didn’t mean it.”

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

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

“I know, Jimmy.”

“I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tango wasn’t going anywhere.

#know that i held off as long as i could #i wrote this fic 8 months ago. and every time i got close to posting it id go #'you cant do that to the rancher community. you cant drop 6k of the ranchers fighting with no warning' #but i could only stay strong for so long #i need people to be as unwell about this as i am. im sorry i need it #it does not need to be read but at least now i have peace of mind that its out roaming the wild #EDIT: ALSO!!!!! if anyone remembers bright&fast……haha see what I did there 🤩 #worm writes #team rancher #jimmy solidarity #tango tek #team rancher fic #double life fic #double life smp

[hmshermitcraft]

Some more stuff with that impskizz and impixl teacher AU this time with Some Kind Of Dungeoncrawl Fantasy Heist Game Akin To DnD! (but probably not with the same name)

some time after impulse and pixlriffs sort out the Misunderstanding, another teacher - Tango, who teaches Mob Spawning Manipulation and Usage - starts up a tabletop campaign and impulse, skizz, and pixlriffs are some of the people invited!

it's set largely in the Frozen Citadel and the cursed and plagued mines underneath

naturally, there are shenanigans.

impulse and skizz play their characters as obnoxiously in love. jimmy the PE teacher has ridiculous strings of bad luck but also has caught the eye of the DM. pixlriffs' rogue character is decided to have a minor psychic power of knowing when something is older or more valuable than it seems because he SOMEHOW keeps getting really high rolls on SPECIFICALLY APPRAISAL they have CHECKED this even happens when someone else is rolling different dice for him??

ren's fighter, who took a level in ice-based magic as well and flavoured it as getting lightly possessed by the Red King of the Citadel, flirts with EVERYBODY. cleo the geology teacher accidentally started a whole plotline involving lost knowledge of how to pull stuff from the resource-rich elemental plane of earth and an incredibly valuable hidden book on magically enhancing stone because she had a few questions about things like "what kind of stone is the place made of" and "what's being mined?" because she wanted to steal bits of dungeon.

tango has guest players every so often, like Doc the medical engineering professor who shows up shirtless to play a villain and flirts with Ren (and possibly actually scored) and has his character walk onto an obvious trapdoor despite Tango's warnings and then is genuinely surprised when it opens and drops his character into a wet pit, and Grian and Scar the architecture and magic students who somehow manage to scam the players into purchasing 'game performance enhancing soup'. not the characters, the PLAYERS (its just regular creamy mushroom soup with vegetables, though at least everyone agrees it does taste nice).

theyre all having a GREAT time (and subtly trying to help tango and jimmy get together)

If Tango weren't DM, they're pretty convinced Jimmy and Tango's characters would be dating. Not Tango and Jimmy, no. Their characters. Because the two are hilariously oblivious.

Cleo likes enabling the chaos. Not in a productive way, no. Just whatever chaos she can create, she does. Spawning an entirely new plotline was fun, though! (It has led to a lot of late nights of Tango asking Pix various questions which definitely are not about the campaign, no way, but please tell him about what purpose this room would have in a keep-)

It's also obligatory to bring soup now. That's Grian and Scar's punishment for their performance enhancing drugs. If they all have it then it makes the playing field even, right?

#empiresshipping #trafficshipping #ask #tango tag #pix tag #impulse tag #skizz tag #cleo tag #jimmy tag #grian tag #scar tag #skizzpulse #impixl #solidaritek #solidango #rendoc #mod 🎀 #weekly theme: d&d au