#hmm or should I change the title to Edge of Seventeen

[cecexwrites]

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

Aiden Steiner was not Daryl Dixon

But in a world where her options were Aiden or Ennis- she would settle. For some reason, Deucalion never crossed her mind as an option. Maybe it was because he knew too much about her. He had been the one to pick her up from her lowest point. But she’d never even had the thought to try and seduce the man. 

And seeing as, to Eden, Ennis had all the sexual appeal of a boot- not to mention it wasn’t worth the fight with Kali, Aiden was her best option. 

A pretty damn good option, she had to admit, as he slammed her back against the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist. Her fingers gripped the short hair at the back of his head as they kissed. He had one hand firmly holding her ass as the other trailed up, warm, calloused fingers brushed the skin between the waistband of her jeans and the bottom of her tank top. 

The sound of a motorcycle vibrated up from the street, but neither gave it a second thought, too wrapped up in themselves. It wasn’t until her shirt was on the ground and Ethan was shouting about an intruder that they paused. 

“Seriously?” Eden called back.

“We’ll kill them, then get back to it,” Aiden promised. 

“You better.” She muttered, grabbing her tank top and pulling it over her head as the two of them ran for the vault.

[zorilleerrant]

Hmm. I'm going to sort mine.

title is a literal description of the story (”5 times x did y”, “first kiss”, etc)

perfect formatting, title is evocative of the story’s main themes

song lyrics

3 feet long all lowercase (overlaps w/ song lyrics)

one word. only one.

title seemingly has nothing to do w/ the content of the story until it gets dropped during a high-tension dramatic scene 70k words in, making you feel like the world meant for you to be born in time to read it

really bad pun

“Song title (and the rest of the song title)”

A singular word that you don’t recognize, then the definition is the summary

Movie reference Non-musical media reference

Clever double-layer meaning

Help I’ve never titled anything in my life I don’t know what this is I just want it to be out of my hands and posted neither you nor I will ever be pleased with this

I currently have 115 fics on Ao3. Using the above criteria, I’ve determined by own naming predilections.

1: Fifteen. Named for what it says on the tin, because I couldn't think of anything else to do with it, or because naming it the obvious thing is just what makes sense.

(The Hogwarts Gender Union; A Cure For Ohan; Pineapple Pizza; Third Sister; Captain Marvel's Day at the Beach; Are You. You Know. Adopted?; 5 times Marcus hated superheroes and 1 time he didn't; A dog might have got blipped! NOT CLICKBAIT; Harry Potter in: The Batfam Goes To Therapy; Another Loki; Truth or Dare; Heir of Slytherin; Seventh Son; The Yule Ball; Conversations Between a Father and Son)

2: Twenty-two. This makes sense because this is what I think of as a 'normal' title and tend to aim for.

(Growth Like A Nurtured Vine; Providing for the Future; In Every Reading Room; Keep The Hearthfires Burning; The Platitude Against The Wall; A Place To Rest Your Head; To Honor A Debt; What We Learn In Chinese School; In The Mythic Tradition; Half Gay/Half Straight; Even A Broken Clock; On Loan from the Wayne Family Collection; This Changes Nothing; Just a Perfectly Normal Rabbit; Five Degrees West; Narcissus at the River's Edge; Educational Overnight; Everybody Makes Mistakes; Forever Home; Small Town Mentality; Best Hadron Collider; Father of the Year)

3: Seven. Way more than I thought, honestly. I use lyrics when I'm struggling to title because it's in the genre tradition.

(but my dreams they aren't as empty; They Call Me Her; I watched the world float to the dark side of the moon; it's a love story baby just say yes; Good Girls Stay Alive; You're gonna go far, kid; Love Will Tear Us Apart)

4: Zero. The longer a title gets the more antsy it makes me, so I tend to avoid long titles.

5: Seventeen. I used to use these a lot to get easy titles, but then I realized I had no idea what fic that was when it got a kudos, so now I only use a single word if it's unique enough that I can remember why I'd name something that.

(Faildeadly; Anabasis; Y-incision; Proprioception; Change!; Anathema; Terrible; Protest; Marathon; Frieda; Worry; Answers; Parabatai; Courage; Besties; Ferret; Babyproofing)

6: Zero. I've only got the one super long fic and it's got the more obvious song naming instead.

7: Ten. Bad puns... or really good puns? Hmm?

(Faire's Fare; Just Monkey Business; When Pigs Fly; Robin's Egg Blue; Ace Shot; The Magic Word; Gift of the Magpie; Attraction; Captain America's Gay Fling; Swearing a Red, White, and Blue Streak)

8: Zero. I just don't like the format.

9: Zero. It always feels condescending to me to assume people don't know a word, so I try not to define them.

10: Twenty-five. Referential titles are an easy go-to for me. I did notice several of them either took a quote directly from canon or used a titling/title card convention from canon, so I wonder if that should be a separate category, or two different ones. I'm also uncertain whether mythology/folklore references should be considered 'media references', or maybe grouped in with titles taken from aphorisms and sayings. Do enough people quote Shakespeare to give him his own category?

(One Face, One Voice, One Habit, and Two Persons; Tendi and T'Lyn at Their Table; Red Bean Buns of Destiny; Does Talia Have A Sister?; Who Gets To Decide Her Own Damn Fate; The Excellent Adventures of Keanu Rhesus; My Concealed Lady; Stabby the SecUnit; Rapidly Expanding Air; The Monkey or The Egg; Words, words, words; And the Mischief of Monkey; In the Museums of the Night; Auntie Yelena Saves Christmas; Dick Grayson, College Student; Meanwhile, At Gotham Grace; Animorty Cricksing: New Pants; Better Together; Don't Call Me Nymphadora; Brightest Witch of Her Age; Just Tonks; Not Always in the Same Way; No Flamz Prepz; A Fish Without A Bicycle; The Boy)

11: Eight. I'll be honest I assumed I'd have more of these because I do love multi-layered meanings. I try hard to achieve them but I'd say they're the most difficult sort of title.

(A Great Deal; Just a Moment of Peace; The Family You Build; Where There's Life There's Hope; Love Like A Sister's; Coffee or Tea?; Brain Freeze; Something that Starts with a P)

12: Eleven. Yeah. Sometimes I struggle with a title for so long I just give up and name it whatever pops into my head....

(Billy Batson in the Wrong Dimension; Incentive Structure; The Burden of the Sword; One Last Kryptonian; An Island Paradise; The Superhero Code; What Makes A Hero; Happy Year of the Tiger; The Smallest Details; Plot Armor; A Better Mousetrap)

types of fic titles

title is a literal description of the story (”5 times x did y”, “first kiss”, etc)

perfect formatting, title is evocative of the story’s main themes

song lyrics

3 feet long all lowercase (overlaps w/ song lyrics)

one word. only one.

title seemingly has nothing to do w/ the content of the story until it gets dropped during a high-tension dramatic scene 70k words in, making you feel like the world meant for you to be born in time to read it

[princesssarcastia]

yes, ghosts CAN time travel, actually, don’t be such a Richard, Klaus

titled “frozen time between hearses and caskets” in my fic folder, aka idea #3 from my poll two weeks ago on which Umbrella Academy Season 2 fic I should write.  vague vibes also from this poem which I adore; “I AM TIRED OF RE-WRITING TRAGEDY WITHOUT CHANGE. LET THEM LIVE. LET THEM LEARN. LET THEM LOVE.”  Because let people grow, goddammit.

this mess to follow is dedicated to @levhach, the only respondent to my poll.  I hope you enjoy!  also dedicated to Klaus’ genuine kindness and empathy for others in season 1, may it rest in peace.

                                        —————————

“Well, unfortunately, ghosts can’t time travel,” Klaus says, playing at exasperated and put-upon.

“Klaus, don’t be an asshole,” Ben intones from the corner of the room, but Klaus can hear the edge of desperation in his voice. 

It’s been years since either of them could even lay eyes on their siblings, let alone speak to them. When Allison appeared at the edge of that pool, it was like heroin; that kind of emotional high could be addictive, if he let it, and he would know.  Seeing and being seen are kind of important, apparently.

Nobody ever sees Ben but Klaus.

Except for three years ago, in Vanya’s theater.

Klaus heaves a sigh, letting his shoulders rise and fall.  “Oh, fine, you big baby.” He throws up his hands as they take on a distinctly blue hue.

And the whole room…stops.

“Ben,” someone says, or maybe they all say it, and then Diego is in front of their dead teenaged brother and clutching desperately at his stupid leather jacket, and Ben is clutching back and crying. 

He sighs again, for real this time, and lets them have this moment.  Even Five seems swept up in the emotion of it all, hovering just on the edge of the crowd with his hands stuffed in his pockets and a constipated look on his face.

“So that’s our brother?” Vanya says from right behind him, jesus christ!

“God, we should have put a bell on you,” Klaus says.  “Yeah, that’s Ben.”

“Ben,” Vanya draws out his name, like she’s trying it out, and Klaus glances back at her.  There’s a hint of some je ne sais quoi, a glimmer of confused grief, in her eyes—like she wants to cry with no idea why, or how.

Vanya, who got teary when they stepped on ants as kids, went berserk and killed the whole world…and then conveniently forgot all about it.  Hmm. Klaus has some ideas about that, personally, but he sees no need to share with the class; in his experience, people will remember terrible shit in their own time.  Trying to force it will only set her off again.

Plus, he’s not nearly drunk enough for that conversation, even after a morning of margaritas with Allison, who’s turned into a wonderful enabler.

Ben finds him briefly from the center of their little gaggle of siblings, seemingly content with more attention than he’s had in decades.

“I missed you all,” he hears Ben say, and watches their dead brother look at Vanya with grief that isn’t confused at all.

—

They stumble out of Allison’s house, away from her lovely husband—really, Klaus can’t even begin to explain how hard it is to find a partner willing to hide a body for you—and straight into the car Klaus sped over here in.  Diego, of course, insists on driving, but Allison is still upset over Raymond and Klaus can’t be bothered, so it works out.

Ben calls shotgun and Klaus automatically pulls Allison into the backseat with him.

“I just,” Allison clears her throat, “Vanya?”

“Again?  What are the odds, am I right?”  Klaus jibes, and flinches dramatically away from Allison when she elbows him.

“Last time, it was Luther and the rest of you morons that set her off.  But none of us have seen her since she left after the dinner from hell, so it couldn’t have been one of us.”

“What is she even doing in the federal building in the first place?”  Ben asks.

Klaus hums, “good point, Ben,” and relays it to the others.

He can hear the leather steering wheel creak as Diego tightens his grip.  “I don’t—I’m not sure, I was moving pretty quickly to avoid getting caught at Headquarters.”

“But?”  Allison prompts when he doesn’t continue.

“But,” Diego’s jaw tightens, “I think she got arrested.  By the FBI?”

“The FBI?” Klaus screws up his face.  “Who the hell—Allison, did you get her involved with the SJCC in the, what, ten minutes we were all together?”

“No, no I didn’t.  But…I mean, someone named Vanya with memory loss in 1963 when the president is in town…” Allison trails off, like the words she emphasized will make some sort of sense when put together.

“They think she’s a communist spy,” Diego says flatly.

“Oh!”  Klaus exclaims.  “Oh,” he repeats, when that sinks in.  “Oh, that—that won’t be good.”

“No, it won’t,” Ben agrees.

Silence fills the car like Agent Orange, and Klaus is just choking on all the implications.

—

His ears haven’t rung like this since helicopters and machine guns and Dave and medic!  I need a fucking medic!, but Klaus foists the memory back into the arms of his subconscious because now’s not the time for a panic attack, goddammit. 

Allison and Diego are saying something, but he can’t quite hear them; it’s hard to focus with wave after wave of energy flowing into him and into him, into that terrible void he doesn’t like to think about and in fact has spent his whole life drowning out. The energy Vanya is pulsating through the federal building feels like nails on the chalkboard of his soul. 

“Question, guys,” he interrupts, “Who are we trying to save Vanya from, again?”

“The FBI,” Diego, Allison, and Ben all say together, and in the same you’re-an-idiot-Klaus tone of voice, too, isn’t that adorable.

Joke’s on them, he’s about to say something relevant. “But if they’re all sucking ceiling right now, why hasn’t she stopped?”

All the bodies scattered about with their eyes burnt out of their skulls is a pretty graphic kind of horrific, even for Klaus, who’s seen pretty much every kind of dead body there is.

Actually…

Klaus waves to get Ben’s attention.  The others turn to look at him and Klaus ignores them.  “Why aren’t there any ghosts?” He shouts, hands still tight around his ears.

Not Ben, though.  He’s just standing there, arms at his sides, like Vanya’s energy isn’t on quite the same wavelength for him as it is for the rest of them.  “I don’t,” he frowns, “yeah, that is weird.  Can’t you feel that, though?”

Klaus hesitates, then nods back, refusing to explain to Allison and Diego when they make encouraging gestures.  There’s no way to articulate it to them, anyway, not in time for them to understand what it means that Vanya can affect his connection with Ben.  That Vanya can, apparently, banish the other ghosts, the ones Klaus isn’t anchoring here in the land of the living.

Pressure is building in too-tight air, like a balloon pushed to the brink of bursting.  According to Diego, Vanya will defrost the Cold War in another fifteen, maybe twenty minutes or so. 

“Can Ben go find out what’s going on with her, then?”  Diego shouts at him, and Klaus looks at Ben, who nods and strolls down the hallway more easily than they could, but it feels…weird.  Something in his chest tightens, in that same place Vanya’s reaching and Klaus doesn’t like to be aware of it the way he’s forced to be right now.

God, he wants a drink.

It takes almost five minutes for Ben to get there and back, and Klaus feels the blood drain out of his face when he gets a look at Ben’s expression.

“They hooked her up to some kind of generator.  Klaus, the readout says it’s up to a thousand volts,” Ben says quickly.  “She’s seizing pretty violently; I don’t think she even knows what she’s doing.”

Klaus lets out a blistering string of curses, the kind Sarge would be proud of—come to think of it, Klaus probably learned it from Sarge. 

“What, what is it?” Allison shouts, leaning in and trying to look where he’s looking, where Ben stands, intangible and desperate.

“They’re torturing her!” Klaus shouts back.

“So, this is some kind of defense mechanism?” Diego adds his two cents, though Klaus doesn’t think the what of this is really relevant right now.

“We have to go turn it off,” Klaus darts to look at Allison and Diego and then back at Ben.  Pressure keeps building in his ears, against his skin, in his brain, in his soul.  How the hell are we going to get back there?  He’s pretty sure they won’t even be able to stand, let alone walk a hundred and fifty feet.  They’ll pop like grapes before they reach the halfway point.

Allison and Diego are shouting something else, now, but it doesn’t matter, because Klaus is looking at Ben and Ben is looking at him and Vanya is reaching that point inside him that anchors Ben, even from all the way back here, and Vanya’s going to blow up this building with them inside it and start World War III and they can’t reach her but Ben can.

Ben can.

He shivers.

Seventeen plus years together means Klaus knows exactly what Ben is thinking, because he’s thinking it, too.

“Are you sure?” He leans into Ben’s space, and Ben crouches down so they’re eye to eye.

“I’m sure,” Ben says easily, like this is easy, god, what a prick.

Something twists in his chest, and he can’t tell if it’s Vanya or his own stupid feelings.  “No take-back-sies this time, mein bruder. If we do this—”

“We?” Ben raises his eyebrows and smirks.

“Oh, please, this is at least forty percent me and you know it,” Klaus narrows his eyes petulantly. 

His brother shifts weight he doesn’t have back onto his heels, freeing his hands to rise in front of him, palms toward Klaus.  “You remember the first time we tried this?”

“We?” Klaus mocks, but takes his own hands off his ears and presses them into Ben’s, letting that peculiar shade of blue envelop both their hands.  Not quite visible, not quite tangible, but it’s power.  Parts of Klaus flow into Ben like Vanya’s energy waves are crashing into everything around him, twining with the anchor between them until it’s a constant stream Ben can feed off of.

He sucks in a shuddery breath and blows out a shaky one.  Allison and Diego are staring at him, wide-eyed, but he keeps ignoring them in favor of Ben.

“Do you think she’ll remember me this time?” Ben asks, smiling at him in that soft way Klaus thought they’d agreed to stop doing years ago.  Rude!

Oh, what the hell. 

Klaus quirks a real smile at Ben and squeezes his hands.  “She’d better.”

—

“I remember everything.”

“Tell Klaus something for me, would you?”

—

fin.

[egg-and-koji]

“Shadows of a Legacy” A LoK Re-Write - Ch 1

KORRA

“I’m the Avatar, you gotta deal with it!” 

Those were Korra's first words to the White Lotus when they came to investigate the claims of the new Avatar being reborn at the Southern Water Tribe. Sure it might have been a bit cocky but at age six she could already bend earth, water, and fire; although she wasn’t able to bend more than a short puff of flames and levitate a few stones, she did have a good grasp on waterbending thanks to father, Tonraq. 

The previous Avatar, Aang, tasked the Order of the White Lotus with safeguarding the next Avatar until they’d master all four elements. Little did Korra know she’d be locked away with almost no freedom at a compound the order built miles from her home village. Not even her mother, Senna could get the White Lotus assigned to her daughter's care to loosen their grip on said freedom. Korra was grateful, however, to at least have her parents there; she may have still been in the South, but their presence made it feel more like home. 

And since her father was her original waterbending teacher and she accepted his advice openly, it was decided there was no point in anyone replacing him. Korra was tasked with learning the more spiritual and medicinal aspects of waterbending from Master Katara. However, those lessons weren’t very long. In part to Korra lacking any sort of spiritual connection and to Katara’s...withdrawal from the world. 

During her years in training, Korra learned from the best earthbending and firebending masters. Many of them claimed she lacked restraint and discipline. They cited much like Master Katara that she would not become a fully realized Avatar until she mastered the spiritual aspect of the title as well. And yet, she continued to beat every task they expected of her, mastering three of the four elements at seventeen. 

Korra’s hopes of being free of her prison were shattered when her airbending teacher, Master Tenzin, had to, unfortunately, postpone her training. 

Which is why she took matters into her own hands and left the compound for Republic City. She had always heard stories from the fishermen coming back to the tribe after selling their hauls at the city’s port. They said the city had a glow you can see from miles and miles away. 

 And it was breathtaking! The light, the sounds. She’d never seen buildings so tall. They pierced the sky and she swears some of them never stopped growing. The streets were crowded with all kinds of Satomobiles and vendors and all types of people. She figured most who came to the city would abandon their roots, but she couldn’t believe the number of people wearing clothes inspired by the styles of their nations. Everything about the city was amazing and she found herself… a bit disheartened; Master Tenzin and The White Lotus had made it seem like the city was dangerous, but Korra hadn’t run into anything questionable yet.

She did get scolded out by a food vendor when she had no money to pay for a snack-in but her defense, Korra always had someone else take care of that. Then, she met her first homeless guy in the park, and surprisingly, he wasn’t the only one. He explained that it wasn’t unusual for people to live out on the streets. And there she thought everyone in the city was “living it up”. Then was when she met her first Equalist; an anti bender protesting in the park. How easily he got her riled up!

Korra paid him little mind and thought, ‘Whatever people like him are entitled to their stupidity. If you aren’t born a bender than that’s too bad.’

She continued her tour of the city. Momentarily struck by the distinct neighborhoods representing the three major nations. Little Ba Sing Se was not at all that “little” and the Arctic Heights were almost like home, except those buildings were made of white stone to look like ice instead. She wondered if it snowed in the city. 

When she got to the Fire Nation neighborhood, she honestly thought it was going to be “fierier”; at least with a better fitting name than Wuzho Village. But one could understand why the city decided against it. 

Even though Avatar Aang and his friends stopped Fire Lord Ozai and ended The Hundred Year War, the rest of the world needed time to recover and rebuild. After more than 50 years, some people were still mistrustful of Fire Nation citizens, more so firebenders. 

Still, some progress between the populations was being made as Korra met two brothers from a multicultural family; Bolin and Mako; an earthbender and a firebender. Bolin, she decided she could very easily get along with. His brother was in her thoughts, ‘a giant whale-walrus dick’. 

But that was before she stopped a group of thugs from harassing an older man’s business. ‘Listen, you can’t be the Avatar if you’re not ready to give an Avatar beat down’. After that, Bolin invited her to see one of their pro-bending games. 

And the criminals? Yes, she took care of them, but...might have been a bit too aggressive in the process. 

Which ended up with her destroying some prosperity…

And then getting arrested for it…

And almost being sent back to the South Pole…

But thankfully, Councilman Tenzin changed his mind. Korra thanked him profusely and expressed her excitement to begin her airbending training...until he said she had to make her first public appearance as the Avatar. 

And as best as she could remember, The White Lotus did not teach her “public speaking for Avatars.”

170AG - The Next Day

Korra barely ate dinner; not feeling quite herself.  A shame too as Tenzin’s wife made wonderful smelling food; vegetable seaweed wraps, sweet red bean buns, tofu curry. Hmm, I might have to sneak out for fish once in a while. But her stomach probably couldn't have handled any food then. Not unless she wanted it coming back up. She didn’t talk much either, as much as Tenzin’s youngest daughter, Ikki, pestered Korra with a million questions?

“Can you really eat a whole whale?  How does your house not melt if you have a fire in them? Do you have any siblings? Do you turn into a block of ice if you take a bath?”

“Uh, I dunno,” Korra shrugged. A few half-eaten pieces of food lingered on her plate that she pushes around with chopsticks then excused herself from the table early. Her heavy fur boots shuffled along with her steps as she walked out the main building to the female dormitory. The air acolytes bowed to as she passed before continuing on their way. 

Korra chews on her dry bottom lip. Give me someone to fight any day, have me talk in front of a crowd, and well…

She's careful with the sliding door to her room, and changes out of her clothes then flops onto the bed. A knock softly rattles the door to her guest room, pulling her out of worrying thoughts.

“Korra?” Tenzin’s voice comes through the paper panels, “I came to see if you’re alright, you left dinner rather early.”

She jumps up and goes to the door. “Uh, yeah all good,” she says, sliding and leaning on the frame. “Just, uh, wanted to get extra sleep,  ya know ... for the meetings and interviews tomorrow.”

She does her best to appear calm and collected. Her new mentor eyes her suspiciously; aging bluish-grey eyes searching for signs of doubt. “There’s no shame in being anxious to speak to the media. Although, I strongly recommend you stick to the notes we’ve written for you.”

“Oh come on, I’m pretty sure they’ll want to hear what I as the Avatar have to say instead of what somebody else thinks I should say.” She says with a flourish of her wrist.

“Given your  eventful  introduction to the city,” his greying bushy eyebrow arched as he spoke, “It’s in your best interest to gain the peoples’ trust.”

 “Pft,  who doesn’t trust the  Avatar ?”

Tenzin sighs, “As I’m sure you’re now aware that the situation between benders and non-benders has escalated in the past few years. The rise of the Equalists only serves to fan the flames.”

Eh, he does have a point. Remembering the protestor and his crowd at the park makes her veins boil. She grumbles, “Yeah, I know.”

Tenzin’s concern is clear on his face. He places a hand on her shoulder and gives a reassuring pat. She chews on her lip again. Sometimes I forget this whole anti-bender thing has him all worked up. Sure, I'm the reincarnation of Avatar Aang, but...Tenzin's his son; that pressure can’t be easy to deal with.’

She clicks her tongue and gives him a crooked grin, “I’ll do my best.”

With Korra’s confidence, Tenzin relaxes, looking a few years younger. He bows his head and turns to leave.

She throws herself back on the bed. Okay Republic City, let’s see what you got!

The next morning, a crowd of news reporters gathers on the steps of City Hall waiting for Korra to come out. Her polar bear-dog, Naga sticks her head through the open window in Tenzin’s office. The building has a strict “no animals allowed” rule. That’s seal crap. Her eyes follow Korra as she paces. Naga’s ears twitch occasionally and when Korra turns to face her, her tongue flops out the side of her jaws making Korra chuckle. She scratches behind her best friend’s ears, “Oh, to be a polar bear-dog and not have a care in the world.” 

Tenzin and the Republic City Police Chief, Lin Beifong are talking to a few White Lotus sentries out in the hallway. Apparently, they are working with the police to increase security in case any anti-bender protestors show up to disrupt the event. Korra grumbles and leans closer to Naga, “I say let them, I’d be more than happy to prove them wrong on any of their arguments!”

The door opens and Tenzin comes in. “They’re ready for us Korra.”

Korra gently nudges Naga to pull her head back from the window, “I’ll see you outside girl.”

Lights flash as Korra and her escorts walk out of the building. 

“Avatar! Avatar over here!” Several reports shout immediately.

Korra holds her arm over her eyes to block out more flashing lights. Being disoriented isn’t how I planned to make my big debut. Through her hazy vision, she can make out a podium with several microphones strapped around the edge set up at the top of the building’s main steps. 

Tenzin walks up and raises his hands, calming the buzz from the anxious crowd. “Good morning to you all. As I’m sure you’ve heard, the new Avatar has recently arrived in Republic City. We’ve gathered you all to hear her public announcement and to put to rest any... troubling  headlines that may be circulating.” Then he motions for her to step up and moves back to her right. Naga and the chief are at her left. 

Tenzin left the notes for her at the podium. She clears her throat before speaking, “Hello... I'm Korra, your new Avatar.”

More cameras flash and the barrage of questions come flying in faster than she can answer. 

“Avatar, does this mean you've moved to Republic City?” One asks.

“Er, well sort of-”

“Were you trying to send a message to the Triads yesterday?” Another interrupts.

“I thought that was pretty obvious-”

Then another, “Will you be fighting crime or the anti-bending revolution or both?”

“Both?”

“Will you be working with Chief Beifong and the police?”

Korra visibly cringes and whispers to herself. “Not unless I have to…”

She grips the podium, feeling Tenzin’s stress and Chief Beifong’s disapproval. Hoping to backtrack, she flips through the cards. The reporters continue their pressure. “I-uh am honored...to-” She gives up on that card and picks another. Then another. None of these sound like me.

Ugh, forget it!

She takes a deep breath, “Uh, yes, I am definitely here to stay, but honestly... I don't exactly have a plan yet. “See I'm still in training... but-"

Quite murmurs spread through the crowd. Korra continues, deciding on brutal honesty, “look... all I know is Avatar Aang meant for this city to be the center of peace and balance in the world, and I believe we can make his dream a reality. I look forward to serving you! I am so happy to be here. Thank you Republic City!”

Tenzin cuts off any more questions and ushers her away quickly. When they're in his office he pinches the bridge of his nose and says, “I’m not sure why I expected you to stick to the cues.”

“Eh,” Korra shrugs, “I thought I’d wing it. Isn’t that how Aang sort of dealt with things sometimes?”

“I suppose,” he gives it some thought, “but he did have trusted friends and allies for help.”

She bawls her fists to crack her knuckles, “Well, looks like I’m just gonna have to make a new team. And I think I know the first two members.”

[bigskydreaming]

Okay, I knew Alistair the Dream-Keeper wasn’t the first time I’d written the idea of magically weaponized dreams, so I went hunting through old email accounts and found a whole fucking manuscript I wrote like, twelve years ago and totally forgot about. WHOOPS. (This happens with me more often than you’d think actually possible). I’m only a third of the way through my re-read of it, but it holds up surprisingly well IMO, I’m pretty pleased. I can actually do something with this, I think. 

Course, it was apparently written back during my whole “every thing must be hetero otherwise there will be no publishing” period, before the beginning of my personal Age of LOL Nah, Fuck That, Everything Must Be Gay. So, first things first, Jez definitely needs a girlfriend, and also a different name. I can’t believe I named her Jez, like, wow, I was really trying to get YA Bingo, wasn’t I? In my defense, this was when I was twenty-three. Also, this first chapter here has a character named Scott and this was before Teen Wolf even premiered, so apparently I just like the name Scott? Huh. Did not know.

BURNING DAYLIGHT

Jez O’Neill knows she has three years, two months, and sixteen days to live.

She’s had visions for as long as she can remember. She knows they’re never wrong. And when the boy her visions say will someday kill her comes into her life, she knows to stay far away.

But somehow he gets close anyways. Because Nathan is perfect. He’s handsome, he’s charming, he’s utterly, unbearably sweet. And when he learns of Jez’s visions, he promises to cheat Death for her. An interest in New Age turns into an obsession with the occult, and that leads to tiny cracks in the walls of the world, where strange and untrustworthy spirits wait to barter with anyone desperate enough to try.

Magic, however, always comes with a price. The higher the reward you seek, the more you can expect to pay, and the spell Nathan thinks will change their destiny instead puts them on a collision course with Fate. It changes him, twists him in mind and soul, transforming the boy Jez loves into the madman who will someday take her life.

With only three years left until the day she now knows she can’t avoid, Jez discovers she and Nathan share the same zipcode again as he sows death and destruction in the streets of LA. But rather than flee for another city, Jez pits herself against the monster she once loved, the monster she helped create, determined to make sure no one else gets caught in the crossfire of their attempt to cheat their fates.

Call it redemption if you want. Jez calls it Tuesday.

Chapter 1

Dreams are doorways if you have the right key.

That’s why I’ve wasted a perfectly good Sunday night perched on the edge of Scott Kinley’s desk. It’s awkward, uncomfortable, and I’m sure I look like a gargoyle in the pitch dark of the two o’clock hour, but every chair in his bedroom is covered in dirty teenage boy laundry. I’ll stick with my perch, thanks.

I kick my legs out and arch my spine, stretching my arms over my head with fingers laced together. Cramped and aching muscles voice their protest. Something cracks in my neck when I roll my head back. Meanwhile, Scott Kinley snores contentedly in his sleep in the bed across the room. I shoot him a glare that’s best described as withering.

Spears of pale moonlight slip through the slatted blinds covering the window above his bed. They stab the length of his body, highlighting a strong jawline and tousled blond hair, not to mention a chest and set of abs that frankly, I just find obnoxious on a fellow teenager. It’s L.A. in early September – code for unbearably hot – and he’s sleeping with the bare minimum of sheets, a loose span of cotton that’s only covering him up to his waist. I’d enjoy the cheap thrill more if it didn’t make me feel like such a perv.

After all, I’m a total stranger who broke into his house and has spent the last four hours going through his things and watching him sleep. It’s kinda hard to feel good about that. In my defense, I’m only here to save his life from a creepy magical serial killer. Course, I have strong doubts that would hold up in a court of law should he wake up and have me arrested for breaking and entering. But I still feel it’s worth mentioning.

A yawn and a glance at his alarm clock confirm that it’s 2:07 am and I have no life. I lean back on the desk and rifle through his homework some more as I go back to invading his privacy. My only defense here is I’m really bored.

His handwriting’s slightly more legible than your average garden-variety chicken scratch, but I’m still not one hundred percent his name’s Scott Kinley. The Scott part is clear, but the ‘I’ in what I think is Kinley could be a really jacked up ‘o’ I guess. Whatever. It’s a pre-calculus assignment, and the last yearbook on his bookshelf is from his sophomore year, so I’m guessing he’s a junior like me. Or like I would be, if I still bothered going to school. Hmm. Eleventh grade and already in precalc? Someone’s a smarty-pants. Interesting.

A row of trophies and a couple of team photos declare him a water polo jock, and not too shabby of one according to this MVP title. Explains the abs. I roll my eyes around the rest of the room. Small TV so old it has a VCR player built into it. An even older Sega Genesis console is hooked up to it, so either Scott’s big on nostalgia or his family’s not big on luxuries. There’s a couple of movie posters tacked to the wall, but the puddle of light leaking across the floor doesn’t reach far enough for me to make out any details. Then a freestanding bookcase, a good five shelves high, filled with actual books. Above it is a college pennant with a bear on it – I think that’s Cal Berkeley, right? Possible destination, I’m guessing….

God. And he was in bed by ten. Smart, good-looking, athletic and ambitious. Did his parents just win the baby lottery, or if I go down the hall will I find the altar they used to bargain with the Devil?

Not that it matters. I stretch my legs out again and dip my toes into the pool of moonbeams, watching them spill across my feet when I wiggle. It’s only been six months since my last boyfriend went all dark side on me and turned into a spell-wielding slaughterhouse. I’m kind of not dating right now.

So it’s only natural my visions would lead me to the most eligible teen bachelor in Los Angeles – I cast another quick look around the desk for the requisite ‘me and my girlfriend’ photo – nope, most eligible teen bachelor in Los Angeles. Ugh. It’s like announcing your diet and inheriting a pastry shop the next day. I feel a sudden urge to grab one of his dirty shirts off the floor just to make sure his one human flaw is real and not an illusion.

Wow. I can’t believe I just thought that. Apparently sleep deprivation makes me weird. Besides, there’s no way that smell could be imaginary.

I throw another withering glare in Scott’s direction. It’s his fault I’m a weird, sleep-deprived pervert in his stinky bedroom. My baleful stare bakes the air above his bed. It bends and twists like a summer heat wave on asphalt. Wait. That’s not right.

I shake my head, peering through the fog that shrouds my tired mind. Somewhere in my snooping I failed to notice Scott’s happy snores had turned into frantic whimpers. He’s writhing on his bed; sweat beads all over his restless body, glistening like fragile pearls in the faint light. The room is abruptly a sauna. Heat climbs the walls and steam mists the glass of the picture frames.

“Shit,” I whisper, and I’m in motion, leaping off the desk into a crouch. I dip my hand into my hoodie and whip out my knife, steel slicing moonbeams to ribbons as the blade springs free. A low keening shreds the silence, hoarse spectral shouts as faces flicker through the knife, reflected in the steel. I cross the room in three steps. Scott cries out. His fingers scratch at the air like crooked claws.

Somewhere a door opens, and something steps through. Between the space of one second and the next, a heavy silhouette takes shape on this side of the dream.

I slam into the figure with all my weight, blade aimed for the midsection where I’m hoping vital organs will be. The knife sinks in too easily. The sandman-born beastie is still in that transitive state where its dream wrought form has yet to shift all the way down the spectrum to vulnerable flesh. Then my knife catches and scrapes against bone. The nightmare screams as it sinks its roots into our reality and feels pain for the first time.

It’s tougher to pull the blade free, but I’m stronger than any normal seventeen year old girl has a right to be. More specifically, as long as I’m wielding that knife I’m as strong as all the monsters it’s killed combined. And I’ve racked up a decent body count. Blood and bile sprays in slow motion, a cresting wave of black tar. A few drops land on my arm. There’s a hissing sound and I feel like I’m on fire. I grit my teeth and swing again. It dodges and I miss. We both regroup, and I get my first good look at it.

Damn. Mr. Perfect Teen USA has one hell of a fucked up subconscious. I’m just saying.

The nightmare swallows what dim light comes near it, refusing to be illuminated. It’s thick, ridged with protrusions of bone and slick scales that shimmer with their own dark radiance. A trunk-like torso gives way to stocky legs. At certain angles they seem to merge into a single column similar to a snake. It has four arms, except for when it has six – and then two and then twelve and then they’re not arms at all, but tentacles. The head is a gaping chasm of teeth and forked tongue surrounded by a lion’s mane of mottled skin. It’s dizzying and hard to look at. Confusing and chaotic. The only constant is its ugliness.

I charge at it, because I’m just that dumb. Hey, only the good die young.

It dips to the side, cobra-quick, and its tail snaps out like the crack of a whip. I take the hit square in my ribs and I’m lifted off my feet, flying back across the room. My breath flees from my lungs, my head slams back into a wall. I bite my tongue and taste copper.

“Rude,” I gasp.

Scrambling up to snatch my knife from where I dropped it mid-flight, I steal strength from its macabre magic. Even still, regaining my feet takes effort and time I don’t have to spare. The nightmare’s turned its attention back to Scott. He’s finally awake and sitting up his bed. Pale, frightened, and totally out of his league. Considering we were dealing with his worst nightmare in every literal sense of the word, I cut him some slack. I’m a good person.

I roll forward and rake my cursed blade along the creature’s side on my way. It rears and screams again. Dimly I hear footsteps and distant shouting.

“What the hell is that thing?” Scott asks, eyes locked on the beastie like a man entranced. Oh good, he can talk. I was starting to wonder. I duck around the nightmare and stick myself in between it and him.

“Don’t ask me. It’s your childhood trauma,” I say, hefting my knife and gauging distance. “Now shut up, don’t die, and for god’s sake put on some pants.”

I lunge and bury my knife in the thing’s throat. I’m liking my odds less and less when it still finds the strength to knock my grip loose and drop me on my ass. More blood drips down on me, igniting nerve endings everywhere it touches my skin. Let’s recap. I have spunk, pizzazz, seven spells and a cursed knife on my side. It has burning blood, a build like a freight train, and claws and fangs that seem to multiply every time I look at it. It leans forward and roars its hostility right in my face.

Also, it has halitosis.

A swipe of its many tentacle-arms knocks me back and to the side again. I land on the floor, staring up at the bookshelf. It’s tricky reading the titles from my upside-down vantage point, but I hazily make out the collected works of one H.P. Lovecraft. That explains a lot.

“You know, there are worse things in the world than being a cliché,” I complain, glowering over my shoulder at Scott. He has the decency to look ashamed, over where he’s huddled on the other side of the desk. Course, I’m sure he has no idea what he’s ashamed of, but my tone conveys the point rather well, I think. “Seriously. The dumb jock thing. Just give it a try.”

Mano a mano isn’t working out too well for me so I switch tactics. I toss a quick ‘Hail Mary’ skyward, kick off my shoes and chant the most powerful – and dangerous – of my seven spells. It’s a nasty little sucker I bartered for in the second sphere, the Circle of Fire. I rattle off short, harsh syllables that climb reluctantly from the base of my throat, guttural utterances that were never meant to be made by a human voice. I dip my fingers in moonlight and etch glowing hieroglyphics in the air – they hang there for a moment, sharply luminescent in the seconds before they fade to black.

Staccato snaps and pops ring out. The alarm clock short circuits. Streetlights flicker and die. Every electronic in a fifty meter radius develops a sudden terminal illness and the air feels flooded. Thick and heavy with static as thousands of wayward electrical impulses conduct themselves through the atmosphere to me. I dig my toes into the heavy carpet and feel the hair on my head stand on end. Then I’m running, my nervous system supercharged with too much speed and power to contain long. I duck past the nightmare’s swinging arms – it might as well be lumbering at tortoise speed – and plant a single palm flat on its back.

My touch hits it like a thunderbolt, lightning barreling down the synapses in my arm and ripping into it with hurricane fury. It squeals and goes airborne, crashing into the desk and reducing it to kindling. Scott falls back, mouth open, and smoke wisps up from the creature’s motionless body.

For a second, I dare to hope it’s dead. It would be really awesome for me if it were. That was my most powerful offensive spell and using it comes with a one in ten chance of killing the spellcaster. So, you know. I’d really like to not have to use it again, please.

The nightmare heaves itself to its feet-tail, sending spears of desk turned firewood flying about the room. Some of the shrapnel heads my way and I cover my eyes. Splinters gouge at my palms. I peek past my fingers, and in a blur of motion the creature crosses the room and throws itself through the window. It rips through the blinds and shards of glass fountain into the hot summer night. The darkness outside swallows it whole.

“I hate you,” I casually inform the universe.

I pick past debris and make for the window. Or what’s left of it anyways. The house is on a hill, high enough elevation that glass from the window is still showering to the ground below. Chiming, delicate drops of crystal rain. City lights gleam from one horizon to the next. A pitch-black shadow makes its way across distant rooftops, dark even against the darkness, like a spreading oil stain spilling towards the downtown metropolis. Lovely.

“What the hell is going on?” Scott finally finds his voice again, but I have no time to soothe his shattered nerves or offer an introductory course on Things That Go Bump in the Night 101. I run my hands through my frizzy, static-damaged hair.

“That was disgusting, you need therapy, and the pants thing was not a suggestion,” I inform him, bending to retrieve my knife. Scott flushes and grabs the sheet off the bed. He doesn’t even try and peek at my ass. A piece of the Scott Kinley puzzle clicks into place, and I feel a tiny bit better.

“Hey, quick question. Are you gay?”

His jaw drops, but he recovers fairly quickly. “What – how did you – I mean, why?”

I shrug. “No reason. Just won a bet with myself is all.”

Hey, it’s the little things in life. I turn back to the window and track the nightmare’s course. Picking a rooftop a few buildings ahead of it, I prick my thumb and whisper a spell from the seventh sphere, the Celestial Circle. I sketch bloody sigils in the moonbeams cascading through the open window. They turn pale and faint and I grab their remnants like door handles. The silver light parts, a gauzy curtain opening on a window to a distant rooftop far below.

I cast a sigh at the bewildered boy behind me and step through. It’s probably for the best. Like I said, I’m kinda not dating right now anyways.

The curtain falls shut behind me and I resume my hunt.

[quarterfromcanon]

Next to You

Heather & Valencia - Femslash February - Day 15 - Playlist [1,550 words]

“How are you completely packed right now?” Valencia huffed while arranging ensembles along the edge of the mattress. “I’ve loaded and unloaded my suitcase three times just since you’ve been sitting there.”

“This is all routine for me,” Heather reminded her. “Davis family reunions have been around longer than I have. The specific pants and stuff change from year to year, but the basic wardrobe requirements stay the same.”

“I still don’t know how to prepare for their weather.” Valencia put her hands on her hips and considered three different shirts. "Seventy degrees for us versus seventy degrees for them could feel totally different. I don’t want to shake your grandparents’ hands with pit stains but I also don’t want to be the weird California girl who keeps shivering every time she’s under a shady tree.”

Heather unfolded her left leg from beneath her body. She stretched it across the sheets to point to an option with her toe. “That one. Open with a tank top. You can tie it around your waist if you get overheated, but you also don’t have to worry about it hugging your arms too tightly and showing sweat if you need the extra layer.” 

“Thank you.” Valencia adhered to the suggestion and rolled the chosen garment the way she’d learned from a YouTube luggage space-saving tutorial. 

“It’s gonna be okay.” Heather didn’t look up from her laptop, but her voice was sympathetic and knowing.

Valencia twisted the recommended tank top in her fists. “This just means being around a lot of people. Like, so many. I come from a big family too, but I’ve got a safety net there. Everyone knows that Fernanda Perez would destroy their bloodline if they went after any of her daughters. It’s one of those ‘it’s only okay when I do it’ things, but it does provide the benefit of not having to hear what my aunts really think of me. They only discuss it when we’re out of earshot. I won’t have that going for me with your relatives.”

Heather waved her hands over herself in a ‘What am I?’ gesture.

“Yes, I’ll have you,” Valencia acknowledged. “I know you’d defend me if you had to, but I don’t want that to even come up. I don’t want to be the cause of a fight on a day that’s just supposed to be happy and fun.”

“It’s going to be fine,” Heather asserted again. “Seriously, they won’t give you any trouble. The Council of Elders might creak their old bones to give us side-eye, but that’s as confrontational as it’ll get.”

Valencia shuddered. “Can we call them something else? They sound terrifying.”

“Cheaters of Death? Ghosts of Prejudices Present? Good Ol’ Fashioned Pains in the Ass?”

Valencia smiled in spite of herself. “You’re teasing me.”

“A little. Is it helping?”

“Kind of.” Valencia sorted bottles of hygiene products in a clear, rectangular bag. “What’s got you clicking away over there? And why does it require headphones?”

“Travel soundtrack,” Heather answered simply. She held one of the headphone cushions to her ear with visible concentration. “I’ve gotta switch a few around. They’re fucking with the flow.”

“For the flight?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“For me?”

“Yep.”

“Music to soothe the anxious beast?”

Heather’s eyelids crinkled at the edges. “Something like that.”

Valencia settled across the narrow vacant space on the bed. She ran her palm up and down Heather’s leg from ankle to knee and back again. “I appreciate the personalized calming technique you’re creating but, if it makes you feel any better, I honestly won’t notice whether it all blends perfectly or not.”

“I know. I just like the challenge.” Heather twitched her shoulders.

Valencia poked the curve of Heather’s muscle. “You take your arrangements very seriously.”

“‘Music is crucial. Beyond no way can I overstress this fact.’” Heather intoned while she typed something else into the search bar.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re quoting that futuristic bumper car book at me again?”

Heather leaned sideways toward the shelf along the wall. Her fingers found the third level up without looking and counted across three spines before sliding out the fourth novel over from the right. Valencia verified the author name and title even though she was already familiar and shook her head. Rant by Chuck Palahniuk.

“Chapter seventeen,” Heather confirmed. “Hit Men.”

“I’m pretty sure you have the best memory of anyone I know. It figures that line would stick since it does sort of sound like you.”

Heather winked. “‘I carry a mix for any human condition.’” 

Valencia lightly slapped her hand against Heather’s thigh. “Showoff.” 

They both resumed their activities until dinnertime approached. It was decided that ordering in seemed the best course of action so they wouldn’t have any dishes to do before their early bedtime. They settled on opposite ends of the couch with their legs crisscrossed atop the middle cushion.

“You said we won’t be the only not-straight people there, right?” Valencia prodded at her noodles with chopsticks. 

Heather tucked a diced carrot into her cheek. “Are you still stressing?”

“Are you still surprised?” 

Heather gave Valencia’s kneecap a comforting squeeze with her calves. “No. I was just hoping it’d pass, for your sake. But yeah, there’ll be at least one other couple there. My cousin Nancy came out back when she was in high school. She’s bringing her fiancée, Charlie. They won’t be hard to track down; Charlie’s hair is an even brighter red than Paula’s. It’s like the easiest game of Where’s Waldo in a group of brunets.”

Valencia nodded. She tapped her hands against the sides of the takeout box. “So which of you two is older?”

“Me by about... four years?” Heather tilted her hand from side to side to indicate a rough estimate. “I was somewhere in college by that summer. She texted me the week before to get advice. I showed up in this denim jacket covered in, like, every pride button and patch I could find. I had a pansexual pin for her in my pocket."

Valencia’s expression softened and she nudged Heather’s waist with her foot. “That was really sweet of you.” 

Heather shrugged. She focused her attention on fishing out an elusive pea in her rice. “The plan totally worked because, no matter how many people noticed what she was wearing, I was always gonna be the more distracting one. It took some of the heat off Nancy and helped her chill out a bit. We basically sat on a picnic bench all day just talking and laughing, staring back at anybody who got a funny look on their faces.” She laughed quietly. “It was great.”

“All right, well, mission accomplished.” Valencia reached for her drink. “I’m at least a little excited for this gathering since it means I get to meet her.”

“She said the same thing.”

“Psh, no she didn’t.”

Heather pulled out her cell, tapped the screen, and scrolled. She turned it to face Valencia with her thumb under a message in gray.

Valencia clutched her heart. “Aww!”

Heather clicked her phone off and returned it to her pocket. “Told you.”

___

The four-and-a-half hour flight from LAX to DTW was a ride for Valencia in both the literal and emotional sense of the word. Her inner responses to their journey swooped from eager to bored to panicked and then repeated the cycle. Heather remained ever-present and attentive, able to track and accommodate whichever stage Valencia was experiencing at the time. 

The digital map on the fold-down display indicated they were now flying over Michigan. Valencia couldn’t help obsessively checking every so often to see if she could spy the city below, even though she knew it would be a while yet before they were that far across the state. Heather snuggled against Valencia’s shoulder with her cell phone in her lap, set to play the collection of tracks she had so meticulously assembled. The headphone splitter was nestled in her half-open hand.

They were about twenty-five minutes from the disembark when Valencia finally got a proper view through the clouds. Her breath caught in her chest and it was at least a full sixty seconds before she became aware of the lyrics playing through her earbuds.

‘Is this the fate that half of the world has planned for me? I know I love you, and you love the sea...’

Valencia turned to nudge her girlfriend awake, but Heather was already watching her intently. They met each other’s gaze for a moment and Valencia arched an eyebrow. “Did you time it out so one of my favorite songs by Vampire Weekend would be on right now?”

Heather could not quite conceal the upward turn at the corner of her lips. “I’m flattered, V, but don’t give my playlist-making skills too much credit.”

Valencia dropped her voice an octave. “Oh my God, you’re so full of it. You’re, like, so full of crap.”

Heather fluffed Valencia’s sleeve like a pillow. “That’s a good impression. You should trot that one out at the reunion. You’ll be a hit.” She shut her eyes and sighed contentedly. “I’m gonna catch a few more Zs before we land.”

Valencia rested her cheek against Heather’s hair. She pressed a soft, discrete kiss to her forehead. “I love you, too.”

[jejublr]

Home

A/N: A Dad!Seungcheol fic requested by @aesthedick-cheol! The day Seungcheol becomes a father will be the day I am finally complete. Bless and good luck to his future spouse lmaoo. Also, sorry I couldn’t think of a better title.. I’m sorry if this came out bad! Constructive criticism is always welcome on my blog so please if you have something to say! Anyways, thank you so much for requesting and I hope you all enjoy <3<3

Genre: Fluff

Character(s): Seungcheol x Reader

“What do you think about kids?”

You and your boyfriend Seungcheol were sitting on a park bench, your head tucked in his shoulder, his arm around you as you watch a young family playing about on the grass. The giggles of a toddler echoed through the trees as the father chased him around.

It was one of the days Seungcheol could take the day off and today he chose to spend it with you. You had decided to go to the park on a whim, seeing that the weather was bound to be nice enough to spend the day out that day.

The weather was gorgeous, the sky streaked with pinks and purples as the day was coming to an end. The days had grew warmer as Spring gave way to Summer. The cool gentle breeze made you snuggle closer into the warmth that is your boyfriend.

You were taken off guard by the question and you looked up to see your boyfriend watching the scene before him with a fond smile. It wasn’t a secret that Seungcheol has a deep fondness towards children. He said it himself once that he wanted to have a big family one day.

“They’re pretty cute..” you started “I mean, they’re great but that also means you’d have to get up early and pay for tuition.”

You both laughed at that.

“Do you want kids one day?” he asked.

“Hmm, maybe? I think so..” you mumbled in reply.

You never really thought of it. You never really thought much about getting married before, let along having kids. But Seungcheol’s did question make you take a step back and think. You couldn’t help but blush as the image of Seungcheol playing around with your own children flashed in your mind.

“If you have kids, how many do you want?” he asked.

“Maybe three?? So the oldest can take care of the younger ones and the youngest can tease the older ones,” you let out a small laugh at thought of it.

“Three sounds good,” he chuckled in agreement.

You laughed and poked his side “Hey mister, what made you ask?”

He looked at you with a smile on his face, his eyes crinkling on the edges “Ahh, I don’t know.. I just want children of my own one day.. And now that I got you..” he tickled you on your side as you squealed.

“Cheol!” you squeaked, giggling. He laughed and kissed you on the cheek.

“I just thought you’d be a great mom one day,” he said. “I mean, imagine: our kids would get my good looks and long lashes and your personality.”

“Hey!” you smacked in in the chest. His laughter rang out, the kind where his gums shows and the sight of it melts your heart.

You smirked at him “How many kids do you want someday?”

“Ten” he quipped. You gasped and hit him in the arm.

“Cheol!”

You can’t believe your baby kicked to Nicki Minaj.

It was one of the days you felt cooped up just staying at home all day. Since you’ve taken your maternity leave,

So you begged Seungcheol to take you to their practice today to observe. At first he had denied your request, saying you shouldn’t get too tired but with enough puppy eyes and aegyo, Seungcheol’s resistance broke and so here you are sitting on the sidelines and watch the boys practice.

It just so happens when the hiphop team played Nicki Minaj on the speakers during one of their breaks when you feel your baby kick. You let out a startled gasp and Seungcheol was right beside you in a second. “What’s wrong, babe?! Are you okay?? Is the baby okay?? What happened??”

By this time, the boys have crowded around you, concerned and wondering what’s wrong. You looked up at your concerned husband with your eyes wide,”The baby kicked..”

There was a pregnant silence until the boys erupted in excited squeals and Oh my gods. Seungcheol’s face broke into a relieved smile and he finally let out the breath that he’s been holding. He gave you a quick peck on your forehead and laid his hand on your stomach

Vernon snickered “I can’t believe your baby reacted to Anaconda.”

“Oh! Oh! Try playing something else!” Mingyu called out. Vernon scrolled to his playlist and in no time, another Nicki Minaj song played, this time it’s Starship.

And so you found thirteen hands eagerly trying to get a feel on the baby’s kick. And as expected, as the beat dropped after the chorus, you could feel another kick, this time much harder than the first.

Thirteen boys jumped and made faces of astonishment at each other. Joshua and Jun were congratulating you and Seungcheol as Jeonghan grinned ear to ear. Seokmin’s eyes grew as big as saucers which reminded you of the first time Seventeen had gotten their first win. The room was filled with awe and joy and the lot of you were laughing at the hilarity of the situation.

“OH MY G O D!!” Seungkwan shouted, starring at his hand “I’m going to be a kimbap uncle!!!”

The boys laughed at that. You must’ve looked pretty disturbed at the realization that your baby reacted so much to Nicki Minaj it made them laugh even louder. Seungcheol on the other hand, has never looked so proud.

“What can I say, she has a good taste.” he joked.

Later that night, you both said goodbye to the boys in a good mood. Seungcheol couldn’t keep his hands to himself that he held your hand all the way home in the car. He helped you change, helped you brush your hair as you removed your make-up and helped you get tucked in for the night from your side of the bed.

His actions just spoke the words he didn’t say. To say he was eager was an understatement.

You were both half-asleep when his voice suddenly rang out softly “You know I will take care of you, right?”

Your eyes were heavy as you answered “I know.”

That night you fell asleep to the sound of his breathing.

It was a shame that Seunghceol wasn’t here right beside you.

Seungcheol and the boys had went to LA for the K-Con earlier in the week and are scheduled to be back two days from now. The both of you knew that he won’t probably be there when you deliver the baby but he’d promised that he would take the next flight back to Korea if anything were to happen.

So now here you are, waiting for the baby and through the waves of pain, you had decided to give Seungcheol a call. Apparently they had just finished with their event and Seungcheol was taking a break at the backstage when you told him you were in labor.

His parents from Daegu had come to take care of you while he was gone and they were the ones who brought you to the hospital when you woke up in the middle of the night when your water broke. You were whisked away to the hospital via a taxi and here you were, waiting to be dilated enough to finally push.

“Who do you think should be her godfather? Jeonghan?” The sound of car honking came through. You’re on the phone with Seungcheol as you waited and itt sounds like he’s stuck in a traffic. Your heart clenched a bit at the thought.

“Not Jeonghan.” you protested. You both had a good laugh on that one.

Seunghceol’s voice was full of mirth when he answered “Yeah, alright, not Jeonghan. I don’t want him to terrorize her like he did to Dino. ““Y/B/N, whose baby are you??””

You laughed at that and imitated in a baby voice “”Jeonghan’s baby~””

His laughter sounded a bit forced by now, as if he was trying to mask his anxiety, but the sheer sound of his voice was enough to calm you down. That’s the thing with Seungcheol; you may be separated by miles and schedules but you will always know that in the end of the day, he will be there with you. Like an anchor.

There was a silence before you spoke “Cheol.. It’s alright if you can’t be here with me, right now, at this moment.. I just want you to be here safely..”

You didn’t expect the tears that burned your eyes because you didn’t expected anything more from him. All that you said was true and you weren’t lying to yourself. You really hope that he would come back home to you safely. That’s all.

Because isn’t that what love is? Being selfless? You knew how much he wants to be here, as much as you do. You knew things will get in the way between the both of you but you’ve always worked it out.

And now you just want Seungcheol to come safely. To meet his daughter. His beautiful baby daughter. Seungcheol must’ve sensed the tears in your voice and his voice came through softly “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there with you..”

“No, Cheol, this is enough..” you sighed, your breath stuttering.

“You’re enough..”

You both talked and talked until it’s finally time for you to push the baby and you said your goodbyes as the doctor came. Seungcheol promised everything will be alright and told you he loved you.

You felt as if he was with you all the time.

Seungcheol arrived at the break of dawn. By this time, you were fast asleep and your baby was dozing off in her incubator next to your bed. She was born at sunset and was declared perfectly healthy by the doctors.

And she’s beautiful. Absolutely stunning.

While she has your complexion and your smile, she has his father’s dark hair and big, expressive eyes and yes, his lashes, too. You had cried the first time you held her in your arms.

Seungcheol crept into the dark room slowly, as to not wake you up. He went to your bedside and planted a soft kiss on your forehead. You stirred in your sleep and through your sleepy haze, you looked up to face him.

You felt a smile break on your exhausted face. “Hey” you croaked. 

“Hey” he whispered, kissing you once more, this time on the lips. You can feel his longing pour into that one single action. When you broke it, you saw his eyes glance at the incubator.

“Is that…her?” “Yeah.”

“Can I meet her?” “Of course.”

Seungcheol went around the bedside and went to pick up your daughter. She grumbled and frowned in her sleep but found peace when Seungcheol finally held her. He began to rock her softly and you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell at the sight. 

Seungcheol was really made to be a dad.

His gaze was soft and full of adoration as he looked upon his newborn daughter and at that moment you knew Seungcheol fell hard and deep and your daughter has his dad wrapped around her little fingers just like that.

“Y/B/N… I’m your dad…” you hear his voice whisper, “Y/B/N.. Welcome to this world.. Your mom and I are going to take a good care of you.. We love you so much..”

The lights from outside filtered through the shutters and casted a soft light on Seungcheol as his voice echoed through the darkness of the room in a soft lullaby. And at that moment, everything was perfect.

The boys came back two days later and decided to pay you and the baby a visit before you were discharged.

To say that the room got much, much more livelier was an understatement because thirteen loud grown men surrounded your baby like a moth drawn to a light. Joshua and Seungkwan especially took an extra liking towards the baby, cooing at her and getting excited whenever the baby’s tiny digits squeezed their finger. Seungcheol looked worried and exasperated every time the boys passes the baby between them but you know they would never do any harm to her.

Just like her father, her twelve uncles’s hearts were snatched with just a glance at her glossy obsidian eyes and rosy cheeks. You just knew she’s going to be as much as a heartbreaker as her father one day.

Later in the evening, you brought your newborn home for the first time. Your in-laws had gone back to Daegu and the house was quite when you both arrived, this time with your little bundle of joy. 

Y/B/N has been a pretty quite and demure baby so far, only crying when hungry and you couldn’t be more thankful for that. As you set her in her crib in the nursery, you got reminded of months ago when Seungcheol had went out of his way to paint the nursery himself. You, who was only four months into your pregnancy wasn’t even given a chance to touch the paints as he didn’t want you to get tired. Looking around, you could tell he had done an excellent job.

The walls are painted a soft blue, with white accents. The smell of paint was long gone, now overpowered by the lavender smell from the scented candles you bought not long ago. The white shelves were littered with soft toys and children’s book, for when your baby is a little bit older and the hanging toys hanging above the crib played a soft lullaby that’s slowly lulling your daughter into slumber.

You felt a strong familiar pair of arms circle your waist from behind as you looked over the angel thats you child. Seungcheol’s lips descended on your neck, a ghost of a smile on them as his warm breath fanned along you jaw.

“She’s beautiful,” he stated. You leaned into his embrace, your eyes closed.

“She is.”

His hold on you became tighter,”Y/N.. Thank you for giving me such a beautiful family…”

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t have to. Because you both know that you love him, as much as he loved you, and with the arrival of your daughter, you knew that love just grew. 

So in the silent room, save for the lullaby playing in the background, with you encased in your husband’s loving arms and your child sleeping soundly in her baby crib, you found solace.

You found home.

[lizzleolsen]

all of them

Answering all the ones I have not yet.

2: Favourite actor(s)Top 6 Female: Elizabeth Olsen. Saorise Ronan. Brie Larson. Michelle Dockery. Amy Adams. Emily Vancamp.Top 6 male: Chris Evans. Aaron Taylor-Johnson. Jake Gyllenhaal. Sebastian Stan. Dev Patel. Richard Dean Anderson.

3: Favourite genre(s)I really love dramas. musicals. really, I like everything, but I’m not SUPER into comedy.

4: Favourite director(s)This is something I feel like I don’t focus on as much as I need to. So at the moment, I can’t fully answer. I’m not sure.

5: How often do you go see movies in theatres?Because of cost, not too often. Maybe 2 times a year. At least lately.

6: Opinion on remakesI think they can be great. And it just depends how long it’s been since the first, and also if they accept it is a remake. I don’t know how to explain it. But just, it’s a new movie, as well as an old, so it should somehow work within that.

7: Favourite era(s) of filmI’d say right now is pretty good. I’m still working my way back with a lot of classics, but I still say I lean towards the current era more than anything else.

8: Spell your first, middle, and last name out in movie titlessince I don’t put my full name on here, I’ll just do my URL. L - LionI - Ingrid Goes WestZ - ZootopiaZ - ZenonL - Lady BirdE - The Empire Strikes BackO - One DayL - LoganS - SerendipityE - The Edge of SeventeenN - Never Let Me Go

9: Favourite film seriesHarry Potter & MCU. (:

10: Favourite remake(s)Hmm. Well Cheaper By the Dozen was a remake. But my mind just went blank on stuff. So. Yeah. lol.

11: Favourite film character(s)Well, MCU characters are Wanda, Steve, Bucky, Natasha, & Peter P. HP character is Hermione.But otherwise, Nick from Before We Go. Marry Poppins. Adaline Bowman from Age of Adaline. idk, I’m sure there’s a lot more. It’s late. My brain wants to shut off.

12: Favourite movie(s) per genreDrama: Martha Marcy May MarleneThriller: Nocturnal AnimalsAction: Captain America: Civil WarComedy: Psych: The MovieMusical: Mamma Mia

13: Movie(s) you remember as part of your childhoodCheaper By the Dozen of course. Mary Poppins. There was a MyScenes (the dolls) movie I could quote backward and forwards called Jammin’ in Jamaica. That movie was my everything at a time. Jumanji was a movie I watched often with my cousins. And I was never more excited for a movie to premiere than Harry Potter or High School Musical.

14: Movie character(s) you identify withThis is something I really don’t know.

15: Prizes of your movie collectionI don’t really have much of one. So I am sad about that. I do have basically every Disney movie pre 2005 on VHS, so that’s something I am happy to have.

16: Blu-Ray, DVD, or VHS?Blu-Ray. Though I mostly have VHS or DVD. Everything is just digital now

18: Actor(s) you hateI don’t really ‘hate’ anyone, but there are people who do make me not want to watch a movie. And I know I’ve told you them before, and now I can’t even think. I hate my brain.

19: Director(s) you hateSame as above, just not something I have focused on enough to answer.

20: Your pet peeve(s) in moviesMy biggest thing is really obvious overacting. The minute I see it, I’m not as into the movie. It’s just hard to get pulled in. I also hate movies that drag out stuff that does not need to be. Scenes that go on, when they should have ended, and something else could have taken it’s place to actually further the story along.

21: Movie character(s) you have a crush onI am not sure I have time to list them all..... Like too many MCU characters. STEVE. JUST. Bucky. Wanda. Also, Taylor Sloane in Ingrid Goes West. Sophie Sheridan in Mamma Mia. Nick Vaughan & Brooke Dalton in Before we go. Brian O'Conner in Fast and the Furious. John Lennon in Nowhere Boy. I really could keep going on and on. But, I’ll stop. There’s just a lot. (I also had a crush on Kovu from Lion King 2 when I was younger)

22: Last movie you sawI watched Before We Go. Again. lol.

23: Favourite film adaptation of something from another mediumHarry Potter. I think it was amazing from book to movie, and they did such an amazing job with it.

24: Movies you think you probably should’ve seen but haven’t for whatever reason.There are SO MANY. I’d say Mamma Mia 2 is a major one, with how much I love the first movie. And then because of how much I love Saiorse I really want to watch Hanna and The Grand Budapest Hotel.  But I have a 100+ list of stuff to see. So...

25: Worst experience you’ve ever had in a movie theatreWell. Once I went to the theater and had a kid kick my chair for the entire two hours. So. Probably that. Or the time the lights went out. That was not at all fun. It was during Indiana Jones 4.

26: People whose opinions on movies you valueHmm. Well I have a few movie friends that I talk to about them, and value. On here, I instantly think of @aliciavikander and Jess (who I think deleted her blog again because her @ isn’t working)

27: If you could make a movie, what would it be and why?I think about this too often, and don’t really want to say, because I do truly believe I’ll write the book one day.

28: If you could adapt something from another medium into film, what would it be and why?Hmm. I once read a book series called Wicked, that I thought was amazing, and could see as a film so easily when I was reading. 

29: If you could remake any movie to improve what you felt was wrong about it the first time around, what would it be and why?I think Serena had the most potential. An amazing cast. Amazing filming. It just needed a bit of storyline help. Or a lot. Just changing that would have made such a difference.

30: Movie character(s) you find attractiveSee above question 21.