#what….. what is the the ship for the three of them… anyways

[kurizz]

Pink Poly Club (miromabby)

Summary: It's what happens after Huntrix and Saja boys' joint fansign event. Mira is annoyed at the trending hashtags online, she sees their fans shipping her with SB Romance and Abby. Their manager, thinking it'd be a good idea, organized another joint fansign event the next day.

Word Count: 773

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Mira snatched Bobby's phone out of his hands, fuming at the edited pictures she saw. "What's this? Pink Poly Club? No way am I being lumped in with those boys!" She handed the phone back.

Zoey was internally squealing.

"Me and Mystery? Like—" She caught the scary look on Mira's face and quickly backtracked. "I mean, ew, why? He's so NOT my type."

With an exasperated sigh, Mira ran a finger through her hair.

"Should I just dye my hair a different color? Ugh, like hell I would. Why’d they have to have the same color as me?"

"You look better anyway!" Zoey encouraged, flailing her arms. "Don't let them get to you. I’m not letting Mystery get to me, too... although, he is kind of my type—I mean, who said that!"

Bobby tried to get a word in, but the girls were too busy complaining. He didn’t even know where Rumi had gone—she’d just suddenly left. It wasn’t rare for the girls to get chaotic, but that didn’t make it any easier.

"But isn’t this great? It’s what the fans want. Maybe it’d be a good idea to have another one tomorrow..." he trailed off, thinking it might not be such a bad idea.

Oh well. Why not?

And so, here they were: another Huntrix x Saja Boys fansign event, with the same seating arrangement as yesterday. The fans were coming in hot—it even looked like there were more of them this time. Some wore miromabby shirts and held up edited ship posters.

"Hey, it’s nice seeing you again." Romance wrapped his arms behind Mira’s chair, leaning slightly at her side. From the corner of her eye, she could see some fans going wild. She ignored him and looked the other way—only to find Abby already staring. He grinned in that boyish charm of his, also leaning in close. "Didn’t think I’d see you again so soon, but here we are."

Her heart skipped a beat but she snapped out of it, shaking her head. She faced forward and shoved both guys' faces away from her. The fans were in a ruckus, and she couldn’t understand why.

With furrowed brows, she greets the first fan that comes up. Great, he's wearing a miromabby shirt.

"Cool shirt you got there. I don't remember taking it though." Abby commented, giving the guy a thumbs up.

Of course, he doesn't remember. It was clearly fake. A photoshopped picture of them with the two guys wrapping their arm on Mira's shoulders and she just had to be in the middle.

She furiously signed another fans poster, but doesn't forget to smile and thank them after. Abby and Romance won't stop staring at her and taking up her space.

"Can you two not?" Mira muttered under her breath.

Abby straightened with a dramatic sigh. "I don't like the number two. Let's be three instead."

"Oh my god," Mira groaned, burying her face in her hands. "I’m going to lose it."

Romance leaned back in his chair. "Can’t blame us nor the fans for having good taste."

"You do make a good centerpiece for a love triangle," Abby added.

Heat crawled up to her face and she glared at them both.

"Go bother someone else," she snapped, grabbing a sharpie and aggressively signing the next fan’s poster. The poor girl looked simultaneously thrilled and terrified.

Abby pouted, "Why would we? Don't wanna."

A sudden squeal erupted from the line of fans. A group of them were holding up a massive printed banner: "MiRoMAbby FOREVER 💖"—complete with photoshopped wedding photos and glittery pink text.

Zoey peeked over. "Whoa. That’s, like, next-level editing. I almost believed it was real."

"Don’t say it out loud! They’ll think it’s encouragement!"

These people had Mira stressed out. She glanced at the other end of the table where Rumi and Jinu was in. It was impossible to spot Rumi from the way Jinu was blocking her view with his back. Why's that guy all over her?

"You really should be focusing," Romance took her hand that's holding the pen and guided it to sign the next poster. Their fingers interlocked.

His hand was warm, and it was creeping up to her body. Romance doesn't let go. He stared at her face, taking in the faint blush on her cheeks despite her frown.

"Hey..." He leaned closer to whisper in her ear, "You should come with us after this."

"Shut up." She whispered back harshly, hating how her heart was now beating wildly.

Abby twisted his finger on her hair, playing with it softly. "Pay me some attention too, Mira."

Oh, someone help her.

________

click for part 2

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first time I posted here. i had the sudden urge and here we are. that's my short contribution to this ship. might write more.

also, idk but huntrix songs>>>saja boys songs for me. their vocals are insaneeee. gotta give my girls more love cus what. their songs on repeat 🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻

[perseephoneee]

┈ ⟡ crash out [a frank langdon fic]

˖ 𐦍 CHAPTER 1: SOMEONE SAYS 'I DO'

↳ fic masterlist  ↳ ship exchange information ↳ taglist

After returning from rehab and looking to earn forgiveness for his mistakes, Frank makes his way back to the Pitt Trauma Medical Center, where he discovers he's been given a supervisor to oversee his progress.

a/n: finally returning to this after crashing out for the past three weeks. can you even crash out for three weeks? it doesn't matter...i did it anyway

beta'd by the beautiful @eurydiceauxenfers <3

“I’ll bet you $10 this isn’t going to work,” you said, watching as Langdon operated. The patient had been injured on a construction site, and you both were arguing over the best way to treat them. While part of you was well aware that he usually had smart ideas for how to handle these situations, you also knew he responded best to competition.

“Then you are going to be $10 short and feeling very stupid,” Langdon laughed, eyes focused on his work. He seemed a lot more joyful than he was a few weeks ago when you first met him. 

“Don’t be a douche.”

“Can’t,” he shrugged. “Because I just succeeded.”

You bit back a smile as he finished off his work, standing back and gesturing to the nurses to bandage the patient up. You left the room, knowing he’d meet you later, as he finished cleaning up. 

You’d had no idea what to expect when Robby asked you to be Frank’s supervisor. You had heard from the rumor mill that he tended to be arrogant, had a hard time not being in control, and was close with Robby. Oh, and the whole stealing drugs thing. But the man you saw on the first day seemed more desperate and sad than anything. Challenging him in his work was the closest you got to seeing that version you were told of before. 

You had also heard him referred to as ER Ken, which gave you a certain idea of what he was supposed to look like. You were not disappointed. 

He’s married, you thought to yourself, looking at the board in central. You heard his footsteps a second later. You could always tell it was him because the steps always seemed hurried, much like a puppy. He wore a grin.

“You owe me $10.”

You raised a brow at him. “How about I just get you a drink from the vending machine and we call it even.”

Langdon pretended to think about it, even though you knew he had already decided. “Deal.”

“Good. We have a sick child in six.”

Langdon pouted. “There’s an amputation in three.”

“I don’t care,” you snorted, watching as his expression fell. You enjoyed that aspect of being his supervisor, getting to make him do whatever case you wanted. He didn’t complain…much. 

He made sure to stay a few paces behind you as you approached the curtain, announcing yourself as you opened it. A little girl, seven years of age, sat on the bed with her knees to her chest and a rabbit in her arms. She was frowning as her parents sat in the chairs next to her. 

“Hi Chloe, I’m Dr. L/N and this is my colleague Dr. Langdon,” you smiled, closing the curtain behind you. “What seems to be the problem?”

“She says her ears won’t stop hurting, and we gave her Tylenol, but it isn’t doing anything.” Her mom twisted her hands, looking anxiously between you and her daughter. You grabbed your otoscope and got closer to Chloe. You hummed as you looked inside both ears. 

“Any other symptoms?” Langdon asked as you examined her ears. 

“She said her head hurt a little bit, but we thought it was just from the strep,” her dad replied. 

“Strep?”

“She just got over strep throat,” the mom replied. You put away the otoscope.

“Her ears are very swollen, but it doesn’t look like the eardrums are affected. Her strep likely didn’t go away and moved to the sinuses, which gave her an infection,” you explained. You felt bad for the little girl. Her ears were so inflamed that you were shocked she wasn’t crying. “Dr. Langdon, what would you prescribe as treatment?”

“Another round of antibiotics, as well as oxycodone as needed for the pain,” Frank smiled, hands in his pockets. You nodded in agreement. 

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” he replied. 

“Her ears right now are full of pockets of excess liquid. Her hearing might be slightly affected, but it’d only be temporary. At some point, the pockets will burst and drain out naturally. If they don’t go away and she’s still in pain after finishing the antibiotics, you should come back in.”

“Thank you so much,” the mom smiled gleefully, giving her daughter a kiss on the head. You noticed Frank tense up out of the corner of your eye. 

“We’ll write you a prescription now for everything,” you nodded, opening the curtain and stepping out with Frank behind you. He seemed quieter than before. 

“What’s wrong, Langdon?” you asked, bumping his shoulder. He looked down at you, plastering on a smile. 

“Nothing.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“You never do, cupcake,” he grinned, walking backwards towards the ER entrance. You frowned at the nickname. You don’t remember when he started calling you cupcake, but you didn’t always appreciate it. 

“Where are you going?” you called out, arms crossed.

“STEMI incoming, and I’m going to beat the record.”

“Like hell you are,” you grumbled, following after him. He was like a dog with a bone when he wanted to do something. The STEMI rolled in a moment later. You both ran alongside the gurney as you wheeled it into the emergency OR… 

Langdon did not beat the record (neither did you). But the guy survived, so all in a day’s work. Things managed to calm down a little bit, and you found yourself taking a breather in the break room. You slumped against the wall with a Rice Krispies treat, staring a hole into the opposite wall. The door creaked open, and Frank slumped down next to you.

You sat in companionable silence.

“Wanna see me shotgun this Red Bull?” He asked, holding up the can.

“That sounds like a terrible idea,” you responded. “But yes.”

It went about as poorly as expected. Frank’s scrubs were now covered in the energy drink. But it made you laugh, actually snorting laughing. He was an idiot, one whom you were in charge of.

“Glad my failures entertain you.”

“Always,” 

Frank smiled. You were waiting to see the smile reach his eyes, but you knew progress was slow. You cleared your throat. 

“What happened earlier?”

“Earlier?”

“With the kid. You got kinda…distant.”

Frank looked down at his hands. He played with the wedding band on his finger, twisting it around. You observed the action.

“I just haven’t seen Tanner in a while,” Frank admits. “And it’s hard.”

“You haven’t?” He wore his friendship bracelet everywhere. Frank wore Tanner’s friendship bracelet everywhere, you’d noticed. You knew he had to be the light of his life. “How—?”

“Abby left me,” Frank shrugged. You felt your heart drop. “After the…she was mad at me. For lying. For everything.” Langdon ran a hand through his hair. “I haven’t seen him since. Courts are still figuring out custody.” He takes his ring off, holding it up in front of you both. “And I didn’t want people to know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, I’m fine,” Frank forced a smile, in a way a totally not fine person would. 

What do you do in this situation? Sit and empathize, you guess. You’ve prided yourself on being good at comforting, but you didn’t always know what to say. 

“Do you mind not telling anyone?” Frank murmured. God, he looked like a wounded puppy with those eyes. 

“Of course I won’t.” You paused for a second. “Would working on the amputee make you feel better?”

“Yes.”

~ * ~

You’re not sure why you did it. Following your co-worker home was never a good idea. Following the mystery that was Frank Langdon was a worse idea. But you couldn’t get that look of his out of your mind, nor the way he held his ring like he wasn’t sure if he should toss it or cherish it. And frankly, you were nosy. 

You follow a little bit behind him as he walks. Luck had it that he didn’t drive to work (your snooping would’ve ended then), but that didn’t leave many options in the closest area. He didn’t ride the bus either. He walked for several blocks, and there were a few close calls where you would roll into the bushes very sleek and cool like a movie spy. You were kidding yourself; you fell into the bushes like a flying squirrel. 

Thoughts of squirrel-like tendencies left your mind as you watched him enter the three-star hotel near the hospital. 

Well, shit.

[nevadancitizen]

-> CH. 10: A HOUSE CALLED CARMODY DELL

synopsis: you tag along with hosea to set up a business deal.

word count: 4.8k

ships: Arthur Morgan/Modern!Reader, Van der Linde Gang & Reader

notes: sorry i was gone for so long! i stopped writing, felt like shit, started writing, and now i feel better. who'd have thunk?

TOSoA taglist: @one-green-frog , @photo1030 , @mavenhavenn , @its-yummi , @lazycowboah , @shackspossum , @swedesfics , @literallyrousseau , @xprloki , @pedifero , @6esi , @xnorthstar3x , @scorpio-echo , @eafv2323 , @junesfruits , @gallantys (if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just ask <3!!)

THE OLD SOUL OF AMERICA MASTERLIST

You were never one to find robberies and petty crime exciting, but sometimes you do what you need to because you must. And Hosea – the arbitrator of god’s will, apparently – has deemed that you need to come on a petty stagecoach robbery because you must help the gang acquire money. You’re not exactly keen on putting out and you’re not sure you’d generate any sizable revenue anyway, so this is the next best (and profitable) thing.

You wait nearby, sitting on a crate as Hosea continues to talk to Seamus: the guy Hosea wants to exploit as a fence. The barn all three of you are next to faces the outskirts of town, so there’s less of a chance of nosy ears listening in on this private conversation.

“Well, every half-dollar robber says he’s capable,” Seamus says. “I never met an idiot that called himself one.”

“Very true. In that case, me and my friend here are idiots,” Hosea says. “But we know how to get things done efficiently.”

There’s a lull in conversation. You take the chance to say, “Hosea’s been robbing longer than I’ve been alive. What – what’s this guy’s place like, Fort Knox?”

“Well, no,” Seamus says. “The closest thing we’ve got is Fort Mercer.”

You look up just as the sound of footfalls meet your ears. It’s Arthur, looking between Seamus and Hosea and you. You have to bite your tongue because you just got away from him – just got an excuse to be outside of camp while he was in it – and now he’s here. Because hey, why the hell not? It’s not like this is your first actual job that you want to go smoothly. No, it’s totally one hundred percent okay that Arthur’s here. Honestly…

“Arthur,” Hosea greets. “This is Seamus – he’s our new partner.”

“I ain’t no such thing,” Seamus says.

“Prospective new partner,” Hosea corrects himself, “if he likes us.”

“Liking ain’t the problem – trusting is, as I said.” Seamus stands and checks around the corner. “And keep your voices down. I don’t want my boss hearing… This is a side line.”

“‘Course,” Hosea says. “Look at the three of us – honest as the day is long.”

“We can do some light work for you,” you offer. You stand, looking between the three men. “Give us an opportunity to, um… prove ourselves?”

A surprised exclamation of “Prove ourselves?” leaves Arthur’s mouth amid a laugh. He glances over at you and Hosea, gesturing at Seamus. “To this clown? Whatchu talkin’ about?”

“Good day, both of you,” Seamus says. He turns on his heel, his boots making a schlock sound in the mud as he walks away.

“Listen,” Hosea says quickly. He starts after Seamus. “He’s rough and ready and quick with his tongue, but I swear, you can trust him, you can trust them, and you can trust me.”

“I…” Seamus turns and glances over Hosea’s shoulder at you and Arthur. His eyes mostly linger on Arthur – probably figuring out the ratio of brains to muscle (which has a strong negative relationship in Arthur’s case). “I’m an old man.”

“You’re not old, Seamus,” Hosea says.

“I’m old enough,” Seamus counters. “And you know why I ain’t dead?”

“You don’t trust idiots.”

“Exactly.”

“We’re not idiots,” Hosea insists. “Let us prove it to you.”

You watch carefully as Seamus considers it. His face twists as he thinks, probably weighing the pros of working with someone like Hosea and the cons of working with someone like Arthur. You hope you at least mostly fall into the pros category.

“I tell you what,” Seamus eventually says. Your ears perk up and you turn your attention to him as he continues talking. “Old Bob Crawford and his boys just bought a beautiful stolen stagecoach from upstate. It’s in their barn. Now you go get that – and then we can work together.”

Hosea puts a hand on Seamus’ shoulder and guides him back to where you and Arthur are waiting, talking as he does so. “Who’s old Bob Crawford?”

“An… acquaintance of mine,” Seamus says.

“So you want us to take out your competition?” Hosea asks.

“Well, he – he’s not just an acquaintance,” Seamus says, “but a cousin… by marriage. I also wanna see if y’all got what it takes. Now, you survive that…”

“Where is he?” Hosea asks.

“He’s in a farmhouse just northwest of here, called Carmody Dell.” Seamus gestures down the beaten dirt road. “It’s just up the train tracks as you’re headin’ up towards Fort Wallace. There’s also money in that house – but that’s your business, not mine – but don’t kill nobody. Folks know we ain’t intimate no more… they’ll know it was me.”

Before you can question the use of the word “intimate” when regarding a cousin (by marriage, but still), Hosea speaks. “But you’re fine with us robbing your cousin?”

“By marriage,” Seamus insists, pointing a finger at him as if that further proved his point. “And yes, I’d love it.”

“You heard the man.” Hosea touches your shoulder as he turns to walk towards the horses. “Let’s go rob his cousin.”

Seamus mumbles “By marriage,” but you just hide your half-smile and follow Hosea. You mount Bronya and tug her reins, leading her away from the hitch.

Arthur mounts Belmont, and Hosea mounts Silver Dollar. They follow you a little ways away from Seamus’ barn.

“Really?” Arthur grumbles.

“Really,” Hosea says. “Lead the way. He said the place is just northwest of here.”

Belmont breaks into a trot as Arthur guides him onto the beaten dirt road. “Me?”

“You’re the one who’s been out gallivanting around here,” Hosea says.

Arthur passes you to lead, while Hosea lingers beside you. You pass by barns and fenced-in livestock on the way out of town.

The valley opens before you, the ground turning from shit-mud to packed down dirt. Winding, patchy desire paths join actual trailways, all bordered by grass that almost seems to roll when a breeze wisps by. A herd of horses slowly move out by the horizon, dotting the prairie with spots of black and white and brown.

Jesus, that’s beautiful, you think to yourself. 

“Jesus, that’s beautiful,” you decide to say out loud.

“It is quite something,” Hosea agrees. “I’ve seen a lot of nature in my time, but the Heartlands trumps them all.”

“I’m… I’m jealous. Of your travels, I mean,” you say. You think for a moment. “Hey, maybe one day I can move my family out here? It seems… quiet enough.”

“Now, I – I don’t think that’s a great idea,” Hosea says. He glances forward at Arthur, then turns away to look out on the prairie. “Your girls are in California, aren’t they? They’re safer staying put for now. We can grab them on our way out of the country.”

“Do you…” You look forward to Arthur. He’s looking forward, most likely paying you and Hosea no mind. “Do you actually want me to run with you? Like, is this The Plan? Dutch’s Plan?”

“Ah, I’m just thinking out loud.” Hosea waves a hand dismissively. “Arthur – you couldn’t have played that thing with Seamus better?”

“Thought you wanted me here to show some strong arm?” Arthur says. “That’s usually how it goes.”

“Yes, but…” Hosea pauses. “You know how this works.”

“C’mon, Hosea,” Arthur drawls. “That feller’s a joke.”

“And that’s why he’s perfect!” Hosea exclaims. “He won’t cause us any problems. A safe spot to fence wagons and coaches, that’s easy money for us.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Come on, it’s not like he’s asking us to rob a bank.” He gestures over to you. “It’s perfect for their first job! If the two of us can’t teach some down-and-out how to steal a stagecoach, we should hang up our hats.”

You make a face at that but don’t comment on it. After all, you are some random person that came across them as a stroke of luck. If you were a bit less lucid in that cabin, Arthur could’ve shot you – so you guess that counts as another stroke of luck. It’s only a matter of time before that luck runs out.

“Thank you for that,” you blurt. “For – for trusting me with this job, I guess.”

“You need to start somewhere,” Hosea says. “Besides, we’re doing better. We won’t be in any major trouble if you make any mistakes.”

“Y’know, I figured more folks would’ve cut and run on us,” Arthur says. He looks to his left, like he’s thinking of looking over his shoulder at you, but he doesn’t. “Given all the trouble we’ve already gotten ourselves into, and the mistakes we already made.”

“Like Dutch says, a lone wolf don’t last long out on the plains,” Hosea says.

Arthur huffs out a laugh. “He does like to trot that one out.”

“People see that, especially when they get a few years on ‘em.” Hosea pauses, then admits: “Even someone like Micah.”

“There’s a couple of folks I wish had cut n’ run,” Arthur says. 

Hosea pauses, then says, “I bet there’s some folks that feel the same about you.”

Even though you’re expecting it – Arthur’s eyes on you, staring you down and reminding you of what a burden you are – it never comes. He keeps his eyes straight ahead on the beaten dirt road. He doesn’t look to his left, he doesn’t look to his right. He doesn’t pay you any mind at all.

That’s good, isn’t it? You ask yourself. I’ve made myself useful. Useful enough…

The rest of the ride to Carmody Dell is mostly quiet, occasionally punctuated by people riding in the opposite direction or a bird flying overhead. Once the homestead came into view, Hosea had instructed you and Arthur to wait while he distracted the boy chopping wood at the front of the house.

Your back is flat against the trunk of a dead tree a little ways away from the house, and you can barely see the brim of Arthur’s hat peeking out from behind a rock. You’re both watching Hosea, waiting for his move.

“My good man! My good young man,” Hosea practically bellows as he approaches the teenager, throwing his arms in the air in greeting. “Fare thee well, fare thee well. Is your father home, son?”

The boy brings the axe down with (what you assume to be) way less power than he intended. He almost looks conscious and embarrassed at the poor display, but neglects to even acknowledge it. “Sure is.”

“Get him down here,” Hosea says. “Please, get him down here.”

You look over at Arthur’s rock. He’s halfway out of cover now. He points at the back of the house, and you point at Hosea.

The boy puffs out his chest a little and puts his hands on his hips. “Get lost, mister.”

“I was lost! For many years, I was lost.” Hosea nods sagely. “Many years. Now… I’m not.”

A man opens the front door and steps out onto the porch. You look over at Arthur and he nods. 

With quick, light steps, you follow Arthur to the back of the house. He puts a hand on the doorknob and braces the other against the door. 

“You know what to look for?” He asks, his voice hushed and almost rumbling.

You think for a moment, then answer, your voice just as quiet. “Cash, jewelry boxes… I – I’ve done this before, y’know?”

Arthur raises his eyebrows a fraction of an inch. “I did not.”

Before you can ask him what that facial expression meant, he turns the doorknob and slowly opens the door. It opens to a small bedroom and suddenly, robbing a house feels a lot more real.

“I’ll clear the rest of this storey n’ check upstairs,” Arthur says. “You start with this room.”

And like that, you’re left alone. He didn’t even give you enough time to explain that yeah, while you’ve robbed a house before, it wasn’t like… this. You rifled through drawers at some house party with lots of people, lots of music, and – most importantly – lots of drugs. Most people were too out of it to understand why you were doing that, and the people that weren’t were blissed out on ecstasy and didn’t care anyway.

You inhale sharply to try to shock your system into being not as nervous. It only kind of works. You start to open drawers of the dresser and focus on what you can hear from Hosea’s conversation to try and ground yourself.

“Pleasure to meet you,” you can hear Hosea’s muffled voice say. “I was just chatting with Junior here a bit.”

“You sellin’ something, partner?” A man’s voice says. Probably Crawford.

“Free!” (You can almost hear the way Hosea threw his arms up, flourishing his faux excitement.) “A free spinal alignment.”

You bite back a smile and move to the chest at the end of the bed. You need to ask Hosea where the hell he learned about chiropractors, of all modern things. You shift aside the folded clothes and find a small clip of money at the bottom. It’s not much – maybe ten ones – but it’s still something. You take it and move on.

Keeping in mind what Arthur did earlier, you brace a hand on the door and slowly open it into a small living room. There’s a fireplace with a mantle, a rug laid out across the wooden floor, and a table pressed up against the wall with three chairs.

“The Lord God Almighty, or who-whoever built us, put our brains in our heads,” Hosea says, “but our souls in our backs. You, sir, y-your back looks kind of tricky, and complicated.”

You move to the fireplace, making sure to tread with light footsteps. His voice is closer now, and a door you can see in a corridor nearby looks like it leads to the front porch. 

Two mostly burned candles and a small picture in a frame sit on the mantle, and a larger portrait hangs above it. The candles and the painting are useless, but…

You take the small picture and flip it over, then dig your thumbnail between the backing board and the frame. It pops open, revealing four fifty dollar bills behind the picture. You take them, then put everything back in place and move on.

“I can fix those spinal troubles for you,” Hosea says. “Just ten or fifteen sessions.”

“Whiskey suits me fine, sir,” Crawford says.

As you move into the corridor, you realize it’s a small entryway and kitchen. A brick oven sits across from cabinets with a sink and fruit on the countertops. Stairs lead up to the second floor, where Arthur is surely pilfering.

“Whiskey? Whiskey is – is causing the problems!” Hosea exclaims. “You ever meet a Scot who didn’t hobble in old age? But the English stand tall, sir – gin! They drink gin. And what is gin made with? Junipers. And what does juniper do? Creates movement in the spine, whereas your whiskey – made with grain as it is ��� leaves the spine brittle! Hence, your hobbling Jock.”

You turn towards the stairs when you hear footsteps, and Arthur is quickly moving down them, a hand on the banister. He snatches a mostly-full bottle of whiskey from a shelf near the oven.

He pats your shoulder as he passes. “We gotta go.”

You put up no fight at all and follow him. He leads you back through the living room and back bedroom.

He takes the steps down the back of the house slowly, looking towards the front. You follow, minding your footfalls. He checks over his shoulder, back at you, then points over at a barn on the other side of a clearing.

“Hosea’s got ‘em distracted,” he says, his voice hushed. “Now, you wait for my signal and we’ll go.”

You peek around the corner. The boy is a ways away, leaning on the fence and looking out on the pasture. Hosea… has the man of the house face-down on a picnic table, rubbing and poking at his back.

“See, now this, here…” Hosea looks over and spots you and Arthur. He nods over at the barn, then presses the knuckles of his thumbs into Crawford’s back. “This…! Is a technique from the Far East. You should be feeling some – some movement along your spine.”

“Kinda, yeah,” Crawford mumbles into the table.

Arthur sticks low to the ground, so you copy him. He snaps his fingers and starts walking, and you follow. He leads you around the back, past the water tower, and into the barn; all the while, Hosea still has that man (metaphorically) showing his belly.

Arthur pulls the barn door open just wide enough to usher you inside, then he follows and shuts the door. There aren’t any windows, and despite the one desperate oil lamp, it’s still reasonably dark.

Two horses are strapped to a fancy-looking wagon. It’s coated in a fire engine red paint-job and the brand on the side reads DAVIS OVERLAND DESPATCH CO.

“Overland Despatch,” you say, pointing up to the yellow lettering. “Isn’t it spelled with an ‘I’? D-I-S…patch.”

Arthur pats one of the horses on the neck. “How am I supposed to know?”

I’m just trying to talk to you! You say in your head in a song-song voice. Who could ever imagine… Me, of all people, trying so hard to be nice for some jerk!

“I… you… read,” you mumble. “I thought… you liked reading?”

“Well, now you can go and have a nice conversation with Lenny.” Arthur tugs on the horses’ straps and reins, making sure they’re connected properly. “The kid loves readin’.”

“I know,” you say. “I-I’ve talked to him before – about books.”

One of the barn doors swings open, Hosea sneaks in, then promptly closes the door behind him. He takes a deep breath and brushes the lapels of his coat clean of nonexistent dust and dirt.

“My friends, the time comes where we must make our exit.” Hosea points at you. “You – get in the wagon. Arthur – come drive with me.”

You open the carriage door and hop inside, while Arthur and Hosea climb up into the driver’s seats. There’s the sound of a horse being whipped, then the stagecoach jolts forward and starts moving.

The barn doors crash open accompanied by the sound of hooves pounding dirt. You brace a hand against the side as the carriage rocks. Through the window, you can see Carmody Dell getting smaller and smaller in the distance. Belmont, Bronya and Silver Dollar trot behind, easily keeping pace with Arthur.

This is nice. The job was clean – you did well. At least, you think you did well… didn’t you? $200 wasn’t something to stick your nose up at in 1899 (or even in 2024, really).

“So, what were you able to lift from the house?” Hosea asks once Carmody Dell has disappeared over the horizon.

“Found some money stashed away upstairs,” Arthur says. “Must be a few hundred – not too bad.”

“Not bad at all,” Hosea agrees.

I’ll tell them about my find later, you decide. Talking would be awkward, given that they’re outside of the carriage while I’m inside… or maybe I’m being weird.

You settle down and actually take the time to look around. The inside of the stagecoach is plush – or what flew for ‘plush’ back in the now. There’s a seat that kind of looks like the seats at the back of the bus on one side, and another on the opposite side.

You sit and push down on the upholstered leather. It’s firm, but soft. You shift how you’re sitting, and the firm cushions give way to some amount of comfort.

It’s not quite as comfortable as the mattress you have at home, but it’s loads better than the nonexistent mattress you have at camp. You lean your head against one of the wooden beams that lines the window.

The plains outside are marked sparsely, only by bunches of shrubs, trees, and the occasional homestead. It kind of reminds you of long car rides when you were a kid, without a phone or music to distract you from the exceptionally boring ride.

The way Arthur drives causes the stagecoach to rock back and forth slowly. The horses almost seem to pound their hooves to a steady, rhythmic beat. Your eyes are heavy, and you feel tired.

Robbing a house really takes it out of someone that’s not fit to rob houses, you guess.

Your shoulders sag, heavy, with the weight of a child. A blond boy named Sasha, no older than seven. You know this as a matter of fact, of course.

There’s something resembling a kalash in your hands, and a revolver serves as your sidearm. Sasha had really only come with you after noticing the guns you have with you – and his uncle’s guts splattered on the metal floor. He hadn’t screamed or yelled or done anything a normal child would’ve done. He just sat there, saying, “He’s dead? Uncle’s dead? But how will I get home? He was supposed to take me home.”

The children of the Metro are a perplexing thing. They were born underground, are being raised underground. Sasha alone has been through hell, and from what he told you about the monsters and the nosalis that attacked his uncle, he only stayed alive by sheer luck. Yet he’s still chugging along, gripping the top of your head for balance, not a worry in the world aside from when you’ll shoot your gun next and how loud and exciting it’ll be.

The tunnels you and Sasha snake through are claustrophobic, just barely bent into a shape meant for long-term human inhabitants. The V.I. Lenin Metro was never meant to have so many bodies crammed into it, but humans have a tendency to do anything they can to survive. Both parties just cursed their rotten luck and made do.

The ceiling, once so low you had to take Sasha off your shoulders to crouch down with you, now opens up into a silo-like room that breaks the surface. Sparse planks of wood are nailed into a makeshift roof, but slits of light still break through. The sky you can see is a bleak bluish-white, and you can hear the faint sound of a blizzard a few kilometers away.

“What’s that up there?” Sasha asks, pointing to the partial ceiling. Before you can respond, he continues: “Wait! Uncle showed me a picture once… The sk-sky. That’s the sky, isn’t it? It’s like… a painted ceiling!”

“Mhm.” You nod as you survey the room. There’s a tunnel up a good eight or ten meters in the side that leads into Hole Station. Light from lanterns leaks from the station’s entrance into the greater area. A scout fire at your feet illuminates a ladder that leads up to platforms that give way to a precariously-balanced extension ladder that rests on the lip of the floor of the station entrance.

“I’ll be famous,” Sasha parades from atop your shoulders. “I saw the sky!”

Not so sure about that, kid, you want to say. I see the sky all the time and I’m a perfect nobody.

You hold an arm up above your head and Sasha latches on. You lift him halfway up the ladder, then let go of him to stabilize the outer rails as he climbs. Once he’s up and out of the way, you follow after him.

You lean and put one of your feet on the platform Sasha is on to test the stability with your added weight. The sheet of metal doesn’t move. With careful steps, you get onto the platform, ushering Sasha along in front of you until he stops in front of the foot of the extension ladder. 

“Hey!” You try to call up into the station’s entrance. Your voice is too weak, and the wisps of wind coming down from the surface isn’t enough to carry it. You bend down and bang your palm against the sheet metal below your feet.

Two men peek out, each dressed similarly to you – guns, kevlar, light and malleable metal bound to their shins and thighs by rope. A woman pushes one of them aside and immediately cries out a hoarse, “Sasha! That’s my boy; they have my Sasha!”

You snap an arm around Sasha’s middle to prevent him from running to his mother. He thrashes against you, but stops when his mom tells him to. 

“I’ll hold this side of the ladder,” one man shouts over the gap. He gets on his knees and holds the ladder’s outer rings. “You get the other.”

You point at Sasha with a stern finger. “Wa… wait.”

You shift and hold the outer rings, then lift Sasha onto the ladder, careful of the flat-ish angle. He climbs on his hands and knees, completely focused on the ladder and oblivious to his mother’s fretting. She watches him with wide eyes, back and forth between Sasha and the ladder, her bottom lip pinched between her thumb and forefinger in worry. He just bumbles along, laughing delightedly when his mother scoops him up as he crosses into Hole Station.

You carefully follow Sasha’s footsteps, although you have to accommodate an extra ninety kilograms – both from you being an adult and all the gear you have on your person. Your ascent is not nearly as eventful as his.

A man claps you on the shoulder as you enter the station. He watches with you as Sasha’s mother fusses over him, pulling his clothes aside to check for any injuries, speaking to him in a soft but quick Ruslish.

“Thank you.” The man removes his hand from your shoulder. He starts walking, and you follow him.

The entrance is small and defensible. Hooks hammered into stone walls hold lit oil lanterns, their small flames contained by glass. Your headlamp would be a better source of light, but you don’t say anything. It’s called Hole Station, and probably for a reason. (You don’t really know if it was named that before 2013, but it’s not that important now.)

“If you had any idea how much that boy means…” The man shakes his head. “His father is really important to all of us, and if his son died, well… It would’ve killed him.”

You look over and see Sasha’s mother kneeling, her son in front of her. Tears carry the kohl that lines her eyes into black rivers that cut down her pale face.

“Where’s Mikhail?” She asks. “How’d you get up here?”

“Uncle is dead, Mom,” Sasha says. It’s clear that while he knows what the words mean and what order to put them in, he doesn’t fully know what it means when a person dies. “But this person took me on their shoulders – I helped them shoot the monsters!”

Sasha’s mother catches you out of the corner of her eye and stands, cradling Sasha’s face to her belly. “O, слава богу. Thank you for saving my son! I – I can never repay you, but…”

She pulls a cartridge – 45 military-grade bullets, you presume – out of her pocket and holds it out to you. “Take these cartridges. At least it’s something.”

Something in the back of your mind snaps. It tells you to take them. You scraped your way into adulthood, and you need everything you can to stay out of a shallow grave. This woman has a husband and a father for her child. And it’s not like you’re robbing her, either – she’s willingly giving up something with purchasing power, which is rare in the Metro. She fully knows what she’s doing.

You reach out and wrap her fingers around the cartridge, pushing them back towards her and shaking your head. She waits for a moment, then nods and tucks it away in her pocket.

As the two men lead you further along into Hole Station, you can’t help but glance back over your shoulder. Sasha’s mother is back to fussing over him, holding his baby-fat face and talking to him softly.

Your teeth grit together and you’re suddenly seething with jealousy. What are you jealous of? Sasha? He’s a child. You don’t want to be a child. Sasha’s mother? She nearly worried herself to death when her kid went away from home. You don’t want to worry like that. Maybe you’d like to have someone worry over you like that, but, no… this is a distinctly different feeling.

So why are you jealous? Are you angry? What do they have that you don’t? What the hell of theirs could you even want?

A child, that something in the back of your mind says. Where’s your baby? Your beautiful baby girl… Have you put her down to bed? Where’s she gone?

[sad-girl-hours23]

I want a ‘didn’t know they were dating’ bucktommy AU where the cruise ship rescue still happened and Eddie and Tommy still hang out a bunch and Buck goes a little insane (on the inside) except he’s actually invited to karaoke trivia and after that they’re all three together all the time

Anyway, not only are Buck and Tommy oblivious but Eddie is too. Literally no thoughts head empty just happy hanging out with his two best bros - so what if they’re a little more touchy feely with each other than they are with him. And so what if half the time, they get into heated debates that have him feeling like he’s watching a tennis match. And yeah sometimes, they go quiet when the other is talking - with a starry eyed look on their face. Who wouldn’t? Both Buck and Tommy are so cool!

All three of them are clueless until they actually spend time with the rest of the 118 and their families (a dinner? A party at one of their houses?) and everybody’s asking when Buck and Tommy got together.

[gerogerigaogaigar]

I wasn't expecting GQuuuuuuX to only run one cour. I'll admit I was hoping to get a full ~50 episode series. Shō ga nai 🤷🏻‍♀️

Uhh yeah so the characters from this universe having to fight off a gigantic version of the UC rx-78-2 in order to survive is so on the nose that I don't think it warrants further analysis. The fact that GQuuuuuuX takes place in a recursive au formed by the psychic torment of a version of Lalah who is herself from a different au of the UC where Char dies instead of her is a more interesting detail. Amateur and Nyaan fighting for their right to exist as derivative characters against not the actual og 1979 Gundam but a derivative Gundam that still represents the idea of the OG series maybe says something about how the interpretation of a piece of art we hold in our heads isn't the piece of art itself but a derivative that has, by being interacted with as art, had our own ideas added to it. Y'know like art is an interactive process and stuff. GQuuuuuuX is a version of reality dreamed up by UC Lalah, but UC Lalah is a version of herself dreamed up by a creator who was already a fan of hers. Anthy from Utena was inspired by Lalah from Gundam so a version of Lalah written by the guy who made Anthy is gonna be fundamentally different from the original from before Anthy existed. Man I'm rambling. I think I'm just blindly trying to back my way into Plato's cave or something.

Oh Challia Bull seemingly glimpsing other worlds and seeing what Char is like as a leader was pretty good. And this Char being able to say "hey maybe I should try to live up to my ideals instead of being a martyr for them" is neat. He's infinitely more stable in a world where he never gets involved with Amuro.

Speaking of Amuro. So Amuro speaks through GQuuuuuuX at the end there and apparently GQuuuuuuX was made with parts that came from the other universe so like??? Is Amuro's soul powering it? I'm gonna chalk this up to being the kind of metaphorical shit that doesn't warrant a watsonian explanation, same with the Gundam growing three sizes that day.

Ok what are my inane thoughts now. We got to see a Zock for like six seconds! UC Char had his original voice in the flashback that was a fun little detail. I think with another cour at least I would have bought the ShujiXAmate ship more. Still feels like a throuple would have made more sense, but writers are cowards. Don't worry in my au of this au of an au I promise that Nyaan and Amate will discover their feelings for each other as they search for Shuji. And that's exactly the kind nonsense this series seems to be advocating for! It should have done more to link the meta concepts with the tenuous political state of the world though. Anyway it's a 7/10 type show for me. The masturbatory stuff amounted to more than nothing, but my standards for masturbatory self analysis are pretty high. On a scale of Fight Club 2 to Grant Morrison's Animal Man I'd rate this as a Stanley Parable.

[smiling-laughing-hating]

summary: it seems like the fans can't get enough of Huntrix and saja boys

====

Rumi doesn't even know how they got in such a situation, wearing kids clothes with none other than the sana boys

Scratch that actually she knows exactly how they got here it seems the fans loved seeing the so called ships

"They're not even that attractive they are more like eugh"

"Yea more like bleghhh"

Zoey was giggling beside the two girls making absurd sounds, what was she doing? She was strugglfdking with her bow tie

"These clothes are so cutieee, but you would think they would be easier to wear t it the are kids inspired..."

She smiles thinking that she finally got it only for the bow to turn crooked, she pouts well it turns out she wasn't exactly pouting to herself as a very handsome guy walked over to her she looks up Confused only to smile sheepishly

'Damn your symmetrical face mystery' she thought to herself She tilts her head at him and he ignore the question and ties her bow so effortlessly it's kinda embarrassing "oh" she deadpans at the perfect tie and if you would ask mystery what he saw well

'Her face light up so brightly she may as well be the sun'

"Thank yo-" he didn't exactly give her a chance to thank him before he left

"Zoey! Come on the games will start!"

==

The host that was all too happy to have both the sana boys and the Huntrix introduced the next game

"The rabbit an the wolf!"

???

"We will spin the wheel and have a member of Hunterix be a rabbit their objective is to run around this 5 km field three times before a wolf from the saja boys catch them! To the wheel"

Oh boy....this is going to be...interesting

The wheel span and span and span annddd landed on

"Rumi and jinu!" Rumi grimaced and huffed while jinu couldn't look more amused

Rumi stood a few feet away from jinu on the field, waiting for the start mark

"seems like i have to Catch you, let's see if those trains-pants indicate your speed?"

Rumi glared at him "oh i love running"

"The same way you run away from the truth?" He whispered

Rumi was about to answer him but the host was already counting down , bastard

"Ok! Lets see who is the fastest the bunny or the wolf?? 3! 2! 1! GO!"

and so the race begun and Rumi was successfully running as fast as she can and from the look of it jinu can't keep up

"Go Rumi!"

"YEA beat his Butt!"

While mira was having her triumph two shoulders pressed against hers

"Go jinu! Show them the honest wolf!" Abby cheered raising his very muscular arms honestly they looked funky under all that children clothes

On her other side was Romance clapping for jinu but his eyes were obviously too busy looking at Mira "what're u staring at?? I swear if we weren't in public i would have gouged those eyes out" she whispered and glare at him

"Go ahead all they're useful for is looking at your beauty my dear"

That didn't soften the blow of her feet to his toes, but he couldn't exactly scream that would bring too much attention...tensing and sitting was all he could do...well he was still beside her atleast

Anyways while Rumi was in the lead that was only in the beginning as this is now the last round but jinu only seemed to speed up

'damn his demonic stamina'

"Y'know this would be easier if you gave up now"

The voice was too close for comfort

"Will the wolf catch up to the bunny??? Go bunny speed up!"

atleast the host was having fun...

Atlast...jinu was too fast

"AND THE BUNNY IS CAUGHT THE WOLF GOBBLED HER UPPPPPP!"

"Woof woof" he winks

===

"And that was it today for our show do our stars have any last words?"

"We just want to stay that today was and amazing day and that it was an honour to sure the stage once more with The Hunterix"

He then procceed to clap alongside the rest of the members

"No no truly it was ours" they clapped too aggressively

The curtains proceed to fall and as always the saja boys are gone with tge wind...well on their feet except for baby who is being carried as compensation for all he had to endure from their crap all day

"You guys are down bad yuck..."

===

I am sorry this kinda sucks i didn't know how to end it T-T

[badninken]

First off: If something grosses you out, walk away. Bye.

Secondly: No matter what you feel about this ship or age gaps etc, the notion that Corazon canonically raised Law or was any kind of father figure is just plain wrong.

I respect that headcanon because it can be really sweet, but I can't stand people being rude about other ppl's shipping preferences AND obnoxiously wrong about canon at the same time.

You do not "raise" anything in six months. Law and Corazon were basically enemies who barely knew each other until three weeks before Cora died and for that entire time their relationship was founded on Cora very violently trying to make Law get the fuck out. When he finds out about the D he tells Law to run away on his own, having no intent to care for this rude ass kid, leading to one of my favorite panels (Cora trying to kick Law straight into a brick wall like a football, as any normal adult would do with a terminally ill child)

After this we have six months of Law being kidnapped and re-traumatized over and over while literally begging Corazon to stop, and THEN we get Corazon finally drunkenly realizing that he actually cares about Law as a person. This is three weeks before he dies.

And if you want to consider the three weeks following this as a Corazon-becomes-a-father speedrun then that's fine.

My own interpretation is that Law barely knew a single thing about Corazon that was true and that it's very natural that he questions why Cora cared, loved and died for him like, who even are you? (unrelated but Law hearing Sengoku say Cora was the most honest man he'd ever met must have been something)

Corazon mostly being a stranger and a mystery to Law when he died laid the entire foundation for the mythologizing, hero worship and the person Law grows up to be. Cora didn't raise him like that, that's who Law becomes by dedicating his life to the weirdo who saved him <3

(also: sure you might get a tattoo to honor a dead parent but. not like that)

So, this is just about their canon dynamic in general. Shipping is complicated and personal. As for me, I'm so invested in their journey as adult and child that shipping them romantically doesn't work for me, but there is so much beautiful CoraLaw artwork out there so I partake in the ship anyway and I totally understand the appeal of them reuniting as adults. Also, Law's Cora-obsession is very interesting to dive into regardless. It's at the core of his character. Anyway, I'm a CoraLaw ally and a supporter of people's right to enjoy whatever the fuck they want without getting rude, judgemental asks.

tl;dr: just block the damn tag and move on.

So your CoraLaw analysis is fine I guess, but Corazon still raised Law and met Law as a child, which makes it gross. I'm trying to be nice here, but that just grosses me out.

- Cora didn't even remotely raise Law. He ignored him for two years and then dragged him around to hospitals for six months against his will. He's not a parental or mentor figure, he's a savior figure (in a literary role sense). The rest of the Donquixote family are the ones who raised and mentored Law (we literally have a montage of this).

- Why should I care about a singular rando's reactionary opinion??? Finding something gross doesn't equal moral correctness. That's like queerness lesson number 1, broski.

[cheaploafs]

needing to sketch ivy and spite like i need water to survive

[lotus-pear]

free will is drawing ur two favorite characters together and making them gay

[vveltergeist]

This is their dynamic in a nutshell to me

[autumn-may]

Why did no one tell me about venom hes like the guy ever (you might have to click and zoom in on the images sorry)

full under cut

[blluespirit]

I was thinking about the southern raiders again and i think one of the reasons i love it so much, is that despite not being in the group for very long, zuko immediately understands what katara needs to do more than anyone else in the group and takes it upon himself to give it to her - peace and to earn her forgiveness.

it's not really about revenge, its about confronting her trauma head on. ripping the monster from under the bed so it can no longer haunt her.

i like that zuko never puts an idea for what she has to do. it's actually aang who brings up revenge. zuko never says that's what she must do, and when she snaps back at Aang that hell, maybe revenge is what she needs, zuko doesn't shut her down either. its absolutely up to her.

the argument between aang, katara, zuko and sokka is telling - aang, while well meaning, can't understand katara's perspective. aang's pain is vast and deep and he has processed/is processing that in his own way, but what works for him, will not work for everyone. zuko sees katara's anger and it resonates with him - that is something he can understand.

I just love that zuko offers to find the man, and then goes all out defending katara's need to confront him. she needs this.

Here's the argument:

KATARA: We're going to find the man who took my mother from me. ZUKO: Sokka told me the story of what happened. I know who did it and I know how to find him. AANG: Um ... and what exactly do you think this will accomplish? KATARA: [shakes her head in dismay] Ugh, I knew you wouldn't understand. [begins to walk away] AANG: Wait! Stop! I do understand. You're feeling unbelievable pain and rage. How do think I felt about the sandbenders when they stole Appa? How do you think I felt about the Fire Nation when I found out what happened to my people? ZUKO: She needs this, Aang. This is about getting closure and justice.' AANG: I don't think so. I think it's about getting revenge. KATARA: [angrily] Fine, maybe it is! Maybe that's what I need! Maybe that's what he deserves! AANG: Katara, you sound like Jet. KATARA: It's not the same! Jet attacked the innocent. This man, he's a monster. SOKKA: Katara, she was my mother, too, but I think Aang might be right. KATARA: Then you didn't love her the way I did! SOKKA: [hurt] Katara! AANG: The monks used to say that revenge is like a two-headed rat viper. While you watch your enemy go down, you're being poisoned yourself. ZUKO: That's cute, but this isn't air temple preschool. It's the real world. KATARA: Now that I know he's out there ... now that I know we can find him, I feel like I have no choice. AANG: Katara, you do have a choice: forgiveness. ZUKO: That's the same as doing nothing! AANG: No, it's not. It's easy to do nothing, but it's hard to forgive. KATARA: It's not just hard, it's impossible.

but I also love that because none of this happens without zuko's knowledge.

zuko is just the means to an end, and he's okay with that. What katara ultimately decides to do is up to her;

but zuko is going make damn sure he's there to make sure she's able to make that decision:

they make it to the southern raiders and zuko charges in, deflects the commanders fire and when he asks them who they are, zuko responds perfectly. he's angry for her. he never tries to make it about himself and his actions confronting the Southern Raiders Commander and Yon Rah reflect this:

COMMANDER: Who are you? ZUKO: You don't remember her? You will soon, trust me. [katara starts bloodbending him. zuko looks shocked for a moment, before quickly returning his attention back to the commander] ZUKO: Think back. Think back to your last raid on the Southern Water Tribe. COMMANDER: I don't know what you're talking about. Please, I don't know! ZUKO: [bending down closer to the commander] Don't lie! You look her in the eye and you tell me you don't remember what you did. [katara realises he's not the man, says as much and begins to walk away. zuko realises he still has a role to play to help katara] ZUKO: [grabs the weak commander and pins him to the wall] If you're not the man we're looking for, who is? COMMANDER: You must be looking for Yon Rha. He retired four years ago.

He does it again when they confront Yon Rah:

[Yon Rha is walking. he stops and turns around once more] Nobody sneaks up on me without getting burned! [drops basket of vegetables and firebends at a nearby bush] sensing no one, he picks up the fallen vegetables and continues on his way. He unknowingly steps on a thin wire, causing him to fall into the mud. He tries to get up only to see a fire blast coming his way which he quickly avoids. Zuko appears before him. ZUKO: We weren't behind the bush. [zuko takes a step forward to threaten him] And I wouldn't try firebending again!

After this, zuko steps back and lets katara handle it in the way she sees fit.

even its inferred that zuko thought it was violence that katara needed by what he says to aang at the end of the episode;

ZUKO: You were right about what Katara needed. Violence wasn't the answer.

the point is he never says it to her and he keeps that largely to himself and when she decides to spare his life, while visibly shocked and hangs back a moment to glare at yon rah, he respects katara's decision and sees that's what she needed:

basically what im saying is that whether you ship them or see them as friends, their dynamic is immediately compelling, interesting and respectful.

[mamawasatesttube]

the timkon fans who shit on bart are annoying, the konbart fans who shit on tim are annoying, and i don't actually know if there are timbart fans who shit on kon, but i sure hope not, because they'd be annoying. the three of them are a set!!! do NOT separate. red tornado literally assigned them one shared brain cell. what is not clickign

[katiekatdragon27]

Your my fav glisten x shrimpo artist btw (and your art is epic ^_^)

Awwww thank you! I'm so flattered to be your favorite shinyshrimp artist!! Here's a doodle as a thanks!

Glisten: Hehe squishy❤️~ Shrimpo: I HATE THIS AND YOU!! Glisten: Your tail says otherwise~

But would you still like me if they were in a polycule~~~????

Yeah, polyamorous Glisten turns his partners poly too #livelaughlovepolycules (More art below cut):

So

Wanna guess who the third person in the polycule is?

You reeeeeeeeeeally wanna know?

Well...

HERE!! *runs for the hills*

So like, I've been a closeted glittermask shipper for like, idk, two weeks now?? But shinyshrimp is my mvp, so like, what if I merged them? Poly Glisten isn't too out there so this could happen, right? (says the delusional idiot).

Glisten: Teagan and Tisha helped me out. Whatcha think? Razzle: You look great, Hun~? What? Feeling underdressed "Shrimpy"?

Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that Shrimpo and Razzle have beef. Razzle is petty. He doesn't like Shrimpo at all because he's bullied Dazzle in the past (and thinks that Glisten is too good for Shrimpo). Shrimpo hates Razzle for being whiney and smug to him (and also cuz he's slightly jealous of Razzle and Glisten's relationship). They work through these grievances as time passes, but it does take a while.

These doodles are from one of the many work parties the toons get up to. Glisten decided to doll up more than he usually does as do his dates (to mixed levels of effort lol). They all end up drinking and partying the whole night and have a blast.

Drinking makes everyone get along ig.

Yeah so some quick lore on glittermask: Glisten and Razzle have been in a relationship for a while now. They got together shortly after Glisten and Boxten broke up (on good terms btw). Razzle knows Glisten is poly and is chill with it, even if he questions the mirror's taste in men. Dazzle third wheels their relationship. but she and Glisten are friends so it's not too awkward lol.

Glittermask is everything shinyshrimp isn't. Where shinyshrimp is bickering, angst-comfort, and fighting over PDA, glittermask is a very PDA, lovey dovey, Hallmark movie-esque romance. Their only flaw is that there isn't open communication when it comes to darker problems. When Glisten is having one of his moments, Razzle does what he does when Dazzle is having one of her moments; he leaves Glisten alone. Which can be good, but it's not what Glisten needs (and what Shrimpo unintentionally excels at).

Both relationships are healthy but have flaws, like normal relationships lol. I hate when things are perfect. Make is messy! Give it ✨DRAMA✨!!

???: So? Who broke it?

And since I'm cringe, I made a fankid! His name is Hamlet (Razzle named him) and he's a super blinged out masquerade mask. Now Shimmer has a little brother who is insanely hyperactive and attention seeking. He would throw a fit about not being served first at the dinner lol. They get along well enough, and Shimmer is happy to have a sibling, but they tend to get on each other's nerves a lot.

But that doesn't stop the only slightly messed up family. They all care for each other in their own ways, and I love that for them.

Have a good one dudes!

[dandelion-roots]

[ID: a digital drawing of kristen and tracker from fantasy high cradling the moon. kristen's hand is on the dark side and tracker's on the light side. on kristen's side of the drawing are stars and she's holding a cowboy hat out of which are falling nacho chips and sauce, as well as wearing a 'kristen for president' sash. on tracker's side are snowflakes and coins, and she's holding a candy cane. additionally, there is a halo behind kristen's head. the second image is the reverse of the first. End ID]

[anxiouslowercase]

sas rh: let eoin survive the fall au » what the gazelles dragged in

"Look what the gazelles dragged in!" calls someone, quite possibly Dave, looking to the side and interrupting the French cheers of victory. The rest of them turn just in time to see one Eoin McGonigal climb out the jeep. "Can't leave you fellas alone for a couple of days without you lot letting the siege of Orléans fall?" Eoin jokes as he leans against the vehicle, because of course he'd mention such thing, unpromted. It gets Augustin grinning, somehow wider than he already was, and he takes a step forward. "Well, monsieur McGonigal, there's always room for the Irish exiles within French--" "Like hell is Eoin gonna join you bunch of pretentious fuckers," interrupts Paddy right away, as it should've been expected, while getting up and promptly making his way towards Eoin, who really hasn't stopped beaming. "Get someone else not to get fucked in the rematch."

or - Eoin finally comes back to camp after getting injured during a raid.