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enderwoah · 2 years

Text

(tw/cws for mentioned animal death, slightly graphic descriptions of tango wanting to murder grian and scar)

(read on ao3 here if you prefer that option !)

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Everything is too loud.

Tango is already sensitive to loud noises—he may suppress most of his inhuman nature, but certainly not all of it, and his heightened senses are one of the few things that have stuck around aside from the physical differences—and the fact that everyone around him is deciding to speak at the absolute top of their lungs isn't helping him at all. The world feels like it's spinning, anyways, everything crashing and tumbling around him like the rubble cracking and dropping from his and Jimmy's home, coated in flames as he's swept away in the water used to put out the fire (it stings more than it should—when it enters open wounds, it burns like salt).

He focuses solely on his breathing—or, rather, he tries very hard to. It's rather difficult when his head is pounding from a headache that could knock out a normal person, accompanied by the thrum of anger that just serves to make it worse. It feels like two forces are fighting against each other in his mind: the part of him that's him versus the magic tightening around his forearms, applying a pressure that tries to smother the rage building up inside of his body and choking him. But the cuffs on his arms are cracked—they've been cracked for weeks at this point, and he can practically feel the cracks allowing a type of fury that he so desperately tries to keep under control through and into his movements.

His shoulders are hunched, his eyes are blown wide and his teeth are bared, gnashing against one another as his hands are tangled in his his hair, pulling and tugging to try and keep himself grounded to this reality.

He is...vaguely aware of how much of a mess he looks to the six or so people in the surrounding area, but it's a bit difficult to focus on that when his insides feel like they're being torn out from rage. He doesn't register half of the words that come from his own mouth—rather, his mind hones in on the nervous laughter from Joel and Etho (especially Etho) and the goading from Scott, Martyn, and Cleo. Things like "you can't let Scar get away with this" and "what are you going to do to him?" are loud in his mind, and all he can think about is how they're right, he can't let Scar get away with this—he's going to burn down their base, he's going to roast his stupid cats over an open flame and pick his teeth with their bones, he's going to kick Scar onto the still-hot coals and watch him writhe—and he's sure Grian had something to do with this, too, because when does Grian not—

Tango barely realises when the goading and laughing turns to silence and murmurs of concern—aside from Scott, who is completely unbothered, and Cleo, who is playing along. Everything starts to muffle—he can feel the uncomfortable shift as his fingertips start to poke at his scalp, hardening and sharpening—the usually overbearing burn of his armbands barely feels like a sting, and all he can focus on is his breathing; in for four, hold for seven, out for eight, just like he said, stay grounded. It's so hard when his nature, that part of him that screams to protect his valuables with his life is burning inside of him like gasoline, making the air around him shift and waver with the pure heat that radiates off of his body as he flickers out of being grounded like a flame in the wind.

And then he feels a pressure on both of his shoulders—two hands from behind that flinch away momentarily but replace themselves quickly, accompanied by someone very clearly yelling something along the lines of "stop egging him on!" right next to him as he's forcibly turned around. Tango can hear the blood rushing in his ears, almost drowning out Jimmy's slightly forceful voice quietly whispering, "We're going, we're going, we'll figure this out later, alright? Breathe, Tango, stay with me here."

Tango breathes. He breathes so hard he gets a bit dizzy, but it distracts him from the part of himself that still wants to run over to the corner of the map and flay the two people living there, burn down their wooden walls and crush their bodies under its rubble—

"Tango," Jimmy says, tugging him back into reality. "Breathe."

"I'm breathing," Tango snaps, and his voice comes out more gravelly than he meant it to, a lot more dangerous. He can feel the spiderweb cracks of his armbands nullify its effect into nothing but a low hum.

"No, Tango." Jimmy suddenly takes Tango's hand, unflinching at the immense heat radiating from a place deep beneath his skin and pulling it towards his own chest, allowing Tango's claws to hook into his shirt just a little bit. "Breathe with me. Okay?"

Tango twists his eyes shut and nods, allowing his body to rock in time with the rising and falling of Jimmy's chest. It's slow and methodical and takes a second to nail down—he's distracted by his violent thoughts that are amplified by the beating heart currently resting under his very sharp fingertips—but when he does, it doesn't take long for the world to come back into focus. Gradually, he starts to hear more—the warning calls of the birds outside, the panicked mooing from the cows now scattered about the area, the fluttering of Jimmy's small wings from right next to him.

He blinks, and he can see his soulmate's face. He's concerned, clearly, but as soon as he realises that Tango is aware, his expression shifts and he's suddenly wearing a smile. "There you are," he mutters, and the smile solidifiies.

He blinks again, and then his surroundings sharpen and he realises that he's sitting on the grass inside of the now-empty goat pen. Jimmy's hand is still on his, holding it to his chest, now turned to lightly circling the back of his hand with his thumb. Tango's face goes red as he pulls his hand away, letting out a final, shuddering breath as Jimmy's face breaks into a grin.

"Welcome back!" he says cheerily, that edge of concern not being completely lost in his tone as Tango puts his head in his hands and groans.

"Did I say any of that out loud?" he heaves, the words coming out muffled behind his hands. Etho knows about how awful his thoughts can get—he was there to watch them almost be executed, after all, but nobody else in that clearing does and he would love for it to stay that way. He doesn't know precisely how he would react if someone came up to him and asked him why he seems so perfectly content with killing Scar's pets.

He would tell them he didn't start it, anyways—he stepped out of that ranch with more cows in it than there are now, and they definitely didn't have a humane death at the hands of GoodTimesWithScar. The notion is absolutely hilarious.

Jimmy seems to contemplate this for a moment before replying, "If you mean the growling, then yes, you said a lot of that out loud."

"Jimmy—"

"No, Tango, you didn't say anything."

Tango lets out a short sigh of relief that dissolves into silence far too quickly. He can feel Jimmy's eyes on him—sharp as a bird's, as always, watching. Waiting for some sign of danger, no doubt, because that's in Jimmy's nature—just as Tango's rage is a part of his.

"So..."

Tango does not respond. Jimmy takes a few moments to press, but he does. "You wanna talk about what that was, or am I meant to guess?"

Tango winces. "I don't...really want to talk about it."

There's just the slightest pause before Jimmy shrugs. "Okay," he says nonchalantly, and then he's on his knees and reaching over to Tango's head and sticking a hand into his hair.

Jimmy has gone out of his way to describe him as a cat more than once, and with how Tango has gone through so much trouble to deny the allegations, it's a bit embarrassing for the feeling to immediately dissipate a good chunk of that remaining tension in his chest, causing him to not-so-subtly lean into Jimmy's hand. The guy laughs at him, so he swats his hand away despite his own body's protests.

Jimmy lets out a quiet, teasing snicker, and all Tango can bring himself to say through a squeaky voice is, "You're a moron."

Jimmy's wings fluff up again, as if he's about to try and defend himself, then deflates, instead choosing the far more annoying and cheeky approach and simply saying, "Yeah, your moron—hey, wait."

Tango is startled by Jimmy grabbing his arm, pulling it closer to his face and starting to inspect the armband—Tango rips away his hand, making Jimmy jump back a little and squawk. "Tim—Prime above, don't grab like that."

"Prime? Aren't you a dem—" Jimmy cuts off that train of thought once Tango shoots him an absolutely withering look. "Nevermind—sorry, sorry. Your—your arm-bracelet-thing, it's cracked. What happened?"

Hands burning from gripping the shield with his life's energy, searing pain from and explosion behind, a hollowness, two, synchronised cracks that made his mind wither and his instincts sing.

Decidedly ignoring the second question, Tango twists the armband on the right—it doesn't actually move, as it's skin-tight, but it does the job of burning off his nervous energy well enough. "I know it's broken. It's been broken for weeks, Tim."

Jimmy's face falls. "Oh—I'm so sorry that I didn't notice earlier, we've not really had the time to sit this close, it's all been so busy and—"

"No, Jimmy, I'm not mad at you for that," Tango cuts him off, making Jimmy sag in relief. "I'm not mad at you. Just—you know how a few weeks ago...I died?"

"Mhm?"

"Right. Well. They cracked when that happened."

Jimmy cocks his head to the side, brows furrowing. "But everything should have been reset after respawning. Especially something as inconsequential as jewelry."

"Unless...?" Tango presses. It's easier when someone else says it first—it's easier when he doesn't have to explain everything. Because he wants to tell Jimmy—he really does, he's wanted to for ages, but it's never really come up in conversation, and explaining to your closest ally that they're soulbonded with an unhinged nether guardian is not exactly an easy thing to bring up.

But this—Jimmy saw this. And sure, he's good at acting like he's nonchalant (he always has been, when he really needs to), but he saw the way his eyes widened and flashed with a colour far too reminiscent of the murderous red that triggers a primal fear in everyone in this server. He saw—and felt—Tango's claws sharpen to a needle-like point, and he saw how far Etho had backed away once his rage was put on full display (he feels as if that was a bit unfair—he almost tore Bdubs' face off after the betrayal in the BEST base all the way back when, not Etho's, and he had deserved that one). There's no way for him to hide this anymore, and even as he tells himself that that's not exactly true, the guilt makes him more inclined to let the information slip. Jimmy doesn't deserve to be sicced with him as a soulbound and not know exactly what he's gotten himself into.

Jimmy, bless his soul, seems to struggle with finding the answer until it visibly clicks. He regards Tango with a puzzled expression. "Unless they're...very heavily enchanted. Curse of binding?" Tango nods, and Jimmy immediately pulls his arm back towards him, scrutinising the band around his arm and running his thumb over the carved enchantments and the cracks sprawling across the precious metal. "This...this isn't just curse of binding. I can see the curse of binding—what in the blazes is all this stuff, man?"

Tango grinds his molars together and glances away. "Ah...well. It's...um. It's got to do with the..." He flicks his tail into view and doesn't miss how Jimmy's wings shift slightly. He reaches and takes Tango's hand in his, and he really can't stop himself from getting flustered. Jimmy is obscenely touchy-feely, and Tango can't tell whether it's his bird brain or if it's just him. And the fact that he doesn't even seem to react to the heat coming off of Tango—he's pretty sure that's meant to be a defence mechanism. Jimmy has properly and thoroughly busted through it.

"You don't...have to say anything if you don't want to," Jimmy says lightly, and Tango is enthralled by how seriously gentle he sounds. As if he'll be annoyed if Tango forces himself to do something he doesn't want to.

"I do," he says in a small voice, and it's not completely the truth, but it's not a complete lie either. "It's just...hard."

Jimmy hums as if he understands completely—which, honestly, he might. Nobody knows everything about anyone on this server, really. "Take your time."

Tango takes in a deep breath, steels himself, and then tries to say it as quickly and simply as possible: "Okay, well, I'm sort of a blazeborn? Blaze hybrid—something. You know that, but I used to have a really bad tendency to—to get mad and freak out and do really bad, really violent things that I regretted sometimes. Especially when—y'know, when things I cared about were threatened. Or people. Since, y'know, blazes are sort of meant to...protect the fortresses? And then one of my friends made these with magic—I can't actually remember who, but they make sure that I don't go...go..." He waves around his hands, trying to look for his words. "Sicko mode. Defensive mode."

Jimmy blinks. "Sicko mode?"

"You know what I mean," Tango huffs.

"I don't," Jimmy replies apologetically. "I'm sorry."

"They make sure I don't...hurt people," Tango settles upon, brows pulling together as Jimmy resumes his circular pattern with his thumb across the back of Tango's hand. "Because I did. I used to. It was bad. I was—I was bad."

"You weren't bad," Jimmy immediately says, as if the very notion offends him.

"You don't know that."

"You did bad things, but you weren't bad." Jimmy holds his hand with both of his, all soft and pink skin compared to Tango's blackened claws. "If you were bad, you wouldn't have tried to stop yourself with these."

He gingerly holds Tango's forearm. Tango huffs. "How'd you know I didn't just get them cuffed to me unwillingly?"

There's a twinkle in Jimmy's eyes as he shrugs. "I just figured." He seems to sober up a bit afterwards, an eyebrow raising. "Does anybody else know about this?"

"The BEST team—from last season," Tango explains. "Bdubs, Etho...I, uh. Ha. They cracked back then, too—when Bdubs boogey killed me, and then I couldn't really hide it because they had to hold me back from, like..."

"Murdering Bdubs," Jimmy finishes, and Tango nods.

"Grian knows, too. I didn't tell him." He shrugs. "He just knows."

Jimmy nods again—this is not uncommon. "Makes sense. Can the cracks be fixed?"

Tango shakes his head jerkily. "No."

"Can they break off?"

"Oh, Prime, no," Tango laughs, holding a hand to his naturally fast heart at the mere thought. "They always do this—crack at yellow, then crack again at red. It's just...a lot worse at red. I get a lot more touchy, if you know what I mean."

Jimmy hums. "If it always happens when you lose a life, why did you think you had to tell me?"

Getting a bit used to Jimmy basically reading his mind, Tango half-heartedly shrugs. "You saw me get like that. It was hard to hide."

"And?"

If Tango swore, he probably would out of frustration. "And...I felt like you should know. Since—I mean, it'd be stupid, but I'm not exactly all there when I get all...upset."

"When you go sicko mode," Jimmy offers. Tango smacks his shoulder.

"Shut up. There's nothing that would stop me from hurting you, or, more likely, hurting someone else for no reason."

"Ah," Jimmy says quietly, and there's the shake to his voice that Tango was expecting. He curls his tail around his leg, his entire body feeling tense as he prepares for whatever Jimmy says next. "I'm sorry for stealing Scar's horse, then."

Tango visibly startles—his red eyes snap over to Jimmy, who looks nothing but genuinely apologetic. "Wh-what?"

"I stole his horse and he burnt down our home," Jimmy explains, as if Tango wasn't there when the horse was stolen and when the house was burnt down. "And then you started feeling bad about yourself for no reason. I'm sorry."

"For no reason?" Tango asks incredulously. "Tim, were you even listening to what I just said?"

"Well, I heard that you're beating yourself up for something that's not gonna happen."

"I'm Netherborn," Tango stresses.

"So's Impulse," Jimmy counters matter-of-factly.

"Not to this extent!" Tango hisses, his tail flicking in annoyance. "He's not going to hurt anyone—not like I would!"

"You haven't done anything."

"I thought things," Tango warns. "Really awful things that I would be completely capable of doing if I was on a red life."

"Everyone goes nuts on their red life," Jimmy says dismissively, waving his free hand. "I tried to kill Grian with my bare fists and then ran away like a startled cat when he fought back."

Tango tries to ignore how 'fought back' effectively translates to 'killed me'— it doesn't work, and he winces in half-sympathy as his brain rushes to figure out why the hell Jimmy isn't sounding a lot more...worried. For himself.

"You know, Tango," Jimmy says, and there's a lilt to his tone that makes Tango immediately on-edge in a cloyingly playful way. He sounds mischievous—a completely opposite vibe to what Tango is feeling, and it clashes so hard that Tango feels like laughing in hysterics when Jimmy loops his arms underneath Tango's and pulls him closer by the waist, resulting in an awkward hug that makes Tango's face flush as dark as his sclera. "I don't really see the issue, here. All I'm getting from this is that I have one of the strongest, most absolutely batshit people on the server willing to protect me with his crazy blaze soldier powers."

"I don't have powers," Tango protests weakly, his arms already moving to reciprocate the hug, careful not to upset Jimmy's delicate wings. "And I could hurt you."

"You wouldn't, though," Jimmy replies, quiet and soft and all the things Tango wishes he could naturally be. "I know you wouldn't."

Tango can't find the heart to disagree with him.

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(3k of double life? with a silly tangotek headcanon! no way! rbs appreciated ?)

#double life #double life fanfic #double life tango #double life jimmy #double life solidarity #solidaritygaming #jimmy solidarity #tangotek #tw violence #tw death mention #tw animal death #tw murder #ao3 liked this one ig #thought itd be funny #written with platonic intentions but do what you want idc!

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