#my child has zero patience. ZERO

[queenlucythevaliant]

All I want for Christmas is nothing but my favorite carols in church

[crescentmp3]

hi i just watched another one of the mortal kombat movies! that was great

[fantasyescapes17]

Manners (Part 1)

Viscount Joshua Hong is by far the most eligible bachelor in London. Rich, handsome, and renowned for his excellent manners and refined tastes. Young woman would kill for the chance to be the Viscount's chosen bride. But nobody can quite determine which of the young ladies he prefers, and you are beginning to have your doubts. Is the Viscount really as gentlemanly as the ton seems to think?

Genre: Joshua Hong x Female!reader. Regency!AU (It's sort of Bridgerton-esque in the sense that I give zero attention to historical accuracy and prioritize aesthetics lmao) You are a sibling to all the Lees (Woozi, DK, Dino) so your last name is Lee but the reader has no other specific characteristics, physical or otherwise.

Word Count: 3.2k+

Part 2

Series Masterlist [I would highly recommend reading the earlier stories in this series, Patience, and Candle, before this one but it's not strictly necessary.]

It was a warm evening in June when your life suddenly changed. 

You had, at that point, been out in London society for almost two years without having received a single marriage proposal. Being the third child and eldest daughter of the Lee family, your responsibilities were far greater than your charms. 

Most young ladies your age possessed a bountiful dowry and carefully developed talents to attract a husband. Instead, you possessed the responsibility of managing five siblings, an absentee father, and a mediocre dowry. Only three of the siblings were younger than you (but really, from the way he sometimes behaved, Seokmin might as well have been younger than you). 

Mr. Lee (your father) was often away and busy managing affairs of the estate. He had ceased to care for society or matrimony since the death of your beloved mother. The responsibility of ensuring your siblings were raised well had naturally fallen on you, the eldest daughter. You did not entirely resent the circumstances. You loved all your siblings equally- even sullen Jihoon and cheeky little Chan- but your future was quite clear. 

You would probably end up an old maid. 

Or you would have, if not for that fateful June evening when Viscount Joshua Hong appeared unannounced on the doorstep of your London home. 

—----------------------------------------------------------

The kitchens were in an uproar. 

“These noblemen are quite careless!” the cook cried out as she struggled angrily to light the large coal fire. “To come around unannounced for dinner-the Viscount, you say- oh, what am I supposed to serve him? I was going to prepare a simple soup and fish for the family supper but that will certainly not suffice for a Viscount!”

You tried in vain to calm the cook. 

“Really, Dotty, it is all right- I am sure the Viscount will not demand anything more than what we usually eat,” you told her gently. 

“Of course he will not demand it- I am quite aware that the Viscount Joshua Hong has the most excellent manners. He should likely eat stale bread without complaint if we served it to him. But how would I ever be able to live with myself if I did that? Oh- how unfortunate that the Viscount should come for supper on the one night when there is no venison to be had…”

There was no calming the cook down. You sighed. 

“Dotty, I must go upstairs to dress for dinner. Please do not worry and serve whatever you are able. The Viscount is a good friend of Jihoon and he will not mind a simple supper after having arrived unannounced.” 

Dotty gave you a miserable look. “I should very much have liked to serve the Viscount my venison pie…”

You laughed. “I shall ask Jihoon to invite him to dinner again soon; and you shall be told well in advance so that you can serve your venison pie. But soup and fish will do for tonight.” 

“Yes, miss…” 

You left the kitchens through the back entrance and hurried up to the bedchambers through a side corridor; carefully avoiding the drawing room where Viscount Hong sat in conversation with your father and older brothers. 

It was perfectly understandable that Dotty had panicked when the Viscount suddenly appeared at the doorstep of your London home to call on your brothers. 

Viscount Joshua Hong was not only one of the richest noblemen in London, he was also the most handsome eligible bachelor. He was the epitome of impeccable manners and fine breeding. The entire ton had been waiting with bated breath ever since it had become public knowledge that he was in search of a wife. 

You could not deny that you were equally curious. Any young lady that could catch the eye of Viscount Hong would surely be perfection incarnate. You could not think of a single woman that could compare. Perhaps the Duchess of Graham? Even she did not possess Viscount Hong's excellent manners. 

As you reached the top of the stairs, you discovered that the entrance to your bedroom was barred by two of your younger siblings. Chan looked upset and angry, while little Nessie looked delighted. 

You took a deep breath and prepared yourself for the onslaught. 

“Why am I not allowed to sit with the gentleman downstairs?” demanded Chan, at the same time that Nessie cried, “Is it true Viscount Hong is here? Does he really have a golden carriage?"

You ushered them into your room before their loud voices could carry downstairs to the drawing room. 

"You are not yet old enough to sit with the gentlemen," you told Chan firmly, before turning to Nessie. "Yes, Viscount Hong is here and you will be allowed to see him at supper. No, his carriage is not made of real gold."

"I'm sixteen-" Chan protested.

"Sixteen is not old enough."

"It's too old to be sitting upstairs with the girls," Chan insisted with a pout. 

You sighed. "Stay upstairs for now. After supper, if Father permits, you may sit with the gentlemen," you told him. "Now go dress for supper quickly. Both of you."

You called for your maid to help you dress and then wrestled little Nessie and Lily into appropriate gowns. Fortunately, Chan managed to make himself look presentable on his own and you were able to get them all downstairs in time for supper.

The gentlemen were already seated for dinner; your father at the head of the table and Viscount Hong to his right along with your brothers- Mr. Lee Jihoon and Mr. Lee Seokmin. 

"Remember to curtsey," you reminded your little sisters quietly. 

They both curtsied prettily for the benefit of Viscount Hong, who greeted you and your younger siblings warmly with a handsome smile and bright eyes. He was characteristically patient when little Lily suddenly threw a tantrum and insisted on being allowed to sit beside him. 

"I will sit beside the Viscount, you never allow me to sit beside the Viscount!" Lily cried, stomping your feet. You laughed nervously, taking your six-year old sister gently by the arm. 

"Come now, Lily, I've told you before that you must behave when we have company-" you scolded lightly. 

"I should very much like to sit beside Lily," Viscount Hong said with a kind smile, before turning to your father quickly. "Unless, sir, you should have any objection."

Your father waved a hand dismissively. "Let the child sit where she likes, we must get on with dinner."

Jihoon surrendered his seat to little Lily and moved around the table to sit beside you instead. You lowered your voice and mumbled in a low voice to your elder brother. 

"Of course we are delighted to have the Viscount here for dinner, it's not that anyone dislikes his company," you mumbled. "But perhaps you could ask him to give us notice next time? Dotty was quite a mess about what to serve for dinner."

Jihoon coughed into his napkin. 

"I don't know why he is even here," your brother whispered. "It's quite unlike Joshua. He is usually incredibly well-mannered but really, neither Seokmin nor I invited him here tonight and he simply won't leave."

You looked at your brother in surprise- you had thought that the Viscount was surely here to discuss urgent business with your brothers or father. 

"Oh…"

The servants entered with dinner, so your conversation with Jihoon was cut short. You were forced to turn your attention to the Viscount, who sat opposite you and was listening patiently to a fairy tale that Lily was reciting. 

"Lily, stop boring the Viscount," Chan scolded her lightly. He turned to the older gentleman with bright eyes. "Viscount Hong, is it true that you have five thoroughbred horses and three pure white Arabian horses in your stables? And that the Arabians were brought from overseas?"

Joshua smiled. "Yes, that is correct. Are you interested in horses, Chan?"

Chan flushed. "I've studied them a little."

"He's studied them far more than he's studied mathematics," you said lightly. Chan frowned but Viscount Hong's dark eyes flickered towards you in amusement. He gave you a small smile. 

"I see your sister doesn't like your interest in horses," Joshua remarked.

"My sister doesn't like anything interesting," Chan complained and you nearly choked on your soup in embarrassment before giving your younger brother a stern look.

"Chan! "

But Joshua only turned to look at you with his usual kind smile. "If you can vouch for Chan having completed his mathematics, Miss Lee, then I should be glad to invite him to visit our stables next week to see the horses."

Chan's eyes widened in delight and he jumped out of his seat. 

"Viscount Hong, would you really-"

"I believe the Viscount said the invitation was dependent upon you completing your mathematics," you reminded your brother calmly. "So sit down and finish your dinner. And thank you, Viscount Hong, I would not want us to intrude upon your hospitality."

Viscount Hong smiled. "I do not consider it an intrusion. It is the least I can do."

"We are grateful, all the same."

Your father cleared his throat as he finished his soup. The senior Mr. Lee was not generally a social man, but even he could not ignore the need to engage in polite conversation when there was a man of such noble standing as the Viscount at his table. 

"Were you in attendance at the Hastings' ball yesterday, Viscount Hong?" your father asked. "My children tell me it was quite a wonderful event. And since you are looking for a wife, I suppose attending these events is of more importance than ever."

Joshua nodded respectfully at your father.

"Indeed, sir, I was in attendance. In fact- I was fortunate enough to have danced once with your daughter," Joshua replied with a small smile. 

You nodded. Viscount Hong was very much an in-demand dance partner, but you were grateful that he had still asked you to dance with him a number of times over the course of the season. You knew better than to read too much into a mere dance, however. Joshua also regularly danced with plenty of women far more eligible than you- Miss Jeon, the Duchess of Graham, Miss Williams, Miss Yoon…

It was a long list that you did not care to repeat. 

Mr. Lee nodded. "Yes- I am sure my daughter is quite grateful for your company."

You flushed in embarrassment at the implication that the Viscount had danced with you out of pity, but the topic of conversation was quickly rerouted by Chan- who had been unable to take his mind off the horses. 

"Viscount Hong, when you said that I might visit your stables next week," Chan pressed eagerly. "Which day of the week were you suggesting, as I have my lessons on Thursdays…"

You frowned. "Chan!"

Viscount Hong laughed. "It is quite all right, Miss Lee. Shall we say Wednesday, Chan?"

"Wednesday sounds excellent…"

The supper passed in a pleasant manner. Joshua's unannounced arrival was certainly not convenient but you had to admire how smoothly the gentleman blended himself into your family supper. He was polite, but without showing any of the airs and superiority that someone of his station could have displayed around your family. 

He showed enthusiasm for Lily's stories, patiently answered Chan's questions about horses and even joked around with Jihoon and Seokmin, whom he had known for many years. You knew that Viscount Joshua Hong was as far, far, far out of your reach as a man could possibly be but…

Well, there was no harm in silently admiring such a wonderful specimen of the opposite gender, was there? 

You ushered your sisters upstairs to bed after dinner. Chan, stubborn as ever, insisted on being allowed to stay in the drawing room while the gentlemen smoked a pipe. You left him be: disciplining Chan was quite out of your hands and you had decided that you would begin to leave it to Jihoon. 

You had just put the girls to bed and were about to undress for bed yourself when there was a frantic knocking at your door.

You opened the door, startled. 

"Chan?" 

Your brother was pink in the face and his eyes wide as he squeezed inside your room and closed the door behind him. 

"Shhh! You will not believe what is happening downstairs!" Chan hissed. 

You raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"We were all in the drawing room- and suddenly Viscount Hong and Father went into Father's study alone. Even Jihoon and Seokmin agreed that it was extremely strange for them to go off alone so I snuck into the study to listen in on their conversation and-"

"Chan!" you scolded him. "You cannot be eavesdropping on Father's-"

"You may scold me later! Only listen for now- Viscount Hong has asked father for permission to offer for your hand!" Chan whisper-yelled. 

You froze. 

"Sorry, my what?" you asked. 

"Your hand," Chan repeated. "In marriage?" he added unhelpfully. 

Your face felt hot. "Don't be foolish. You must have misunderstood their conversation. Viscount Hong would certainly marry a woman more suited to his station. To even suggest otherwise is nonsense-"

Chan looked angry. "I know what I heard, sister! He clearly said 'I seek your blessing to offer for your daughter's hand'- and surely, he is not intending to marry Lily!"

"He is not intending to marry me either-"

There was another sharp knock on your door and both you and Chan jumped, startled. You opened it to find a maid standing outside and she greeted you with a bow. 

"Miss Lee- your father has requested you to come downstairs to his study."

—-----------------------------------------------

You went downstairs in a mixture of disbelief and anxiety. It was impossible that Viscount Joshua Hong had made an offer for your hand- Chan meant well but he was hardly the most brilliant young boy of his age. He had clearly misunderstood something. 

You entered your father's study anxiously. 

"Father?"

Mr. Lee stood from his desk. Joshua was seated quietly on a chair across from it- his expression was unreadable. 

"Ah-daughter. Here you are. I believe the Viscount has something to say to you. I am afraid I left my pipe in the drawing room so I shall return to it. You may both converse here in my study."

And your father briskly left the room, closing the study door behind him and leaving you entirely alone with Viscount Hong. 

Oh no. 

Oh no. 

"Miss Lee?" Viscount Hong asked you gently as you stared frozen at the now closed study door. He stood and stepped closer to you. "Would you like to take a seat?"

You turned to face him sharply. 

"What is the meaning of this?" you demanded. 

Viscount Hong gave you a small smile. He seemed a little surprised by your sharp reaction but reached for your bare hand- you were not wearing gloves so his soft fingers glided over your knuckles- and gently drew you closer to himself. 

"Miss Lee. I suppose the present circumstances make my object in speaking to you here quite evident, but I will still pose the question to you," Joshua said slowly. His hand pressed yours. "Would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"

You felt faint. You could not make sense of what was happening. 

"But-but…" you stuttered awkwardly. "But why?"

Joshua looked taken aback. 

"Why?" he repeated. 

"Why would you want to marry me?" you cried.

Joshua let out a small, bewildered laugh. Your question seemed to amuse him. "Well- for the very reasons that any man would want to marry a woman, I suppose. For love! Should I perhaps have started with that instead of directly jumping to marriage?"

"Yes-I mean no-, I mean…" you trailed off and pulled your hand out of his grasp before moving to learn against the study table. "Oh my god, I feel rather faint."

Joshua followed you, concerned. 

"Do you need help-"

"I am fine," you brushed him off. Your heart was beating at an unnaturally fast rate and you worried that it might suddenly explode in your chest. "I just… I don't really know what to say…"

Joshua took a step back from you warily. 

"Am I to understand from your reaction," he began slowly and carefully, "that my affections are unwelcome?"

"No, not… not unwelcome, exactly, more shocking," you replied hastily. You took a deep breath and tried to calm yourself down and digest this strange situation that you had suddenly been thrust into. "Viscount Hong, do you expect me to believe that out of all the beautiful, talented and rich young ladies of the ton, you are in love with me?"

The Viscount slowly kneeled in front of you and took your hand into his once more, with a soft smile. 

"I thought you would have noticed my affections. Perhaps I concealed them better than I imagined. I believed that my admiration for you was quite evident," Joshua said quietly. 

"Clearly it was not," you told him firmly. "I have it on quite good authority that there is a running bet in the assembly rooms regarding which young lady the eligible Viscount Hong will propose to by the end of the season, and I can tell you with absolute confidence that not a single person has put their money on me! Even Seokmin has placed his bet on the Duchess of Graham!"

Joshua took a deep breath and nodded. 

"I see my mistake."

"Do you?" you asked weakly. 

"Yes," Joshua replied simply. He stood up and stepped back from you. "I thought it was prudent to be a little more… guarded about displaying my affections for you in public but I see now that I should not have held back so much. You did not even realise you were being courted."

You stared at him. "I… I do not think anyone realised, Viscount Hong."

Joshua's cheeks flushed pink. "Yes- well. Allow me to remedy my mistake. I will retract my offer for your hand for the moment, Miss Lee, as I see now that I have been hasty. And instead, I seek permission to enter into a formal courtship with you."

"Ah…"

"I will court you for one month before I will ask you once again to marry me," Joshua continued. "And if by then you still do not believe my affections for you are true, I will accept your rejection as gracefully as I can."

You still could not believe it. The image- the thought of yourself marrying Viscount Joshua Hong simply would not manifest completely in your mind. Even when you closed your eyes for a brief moment and tried to picture Viscount Hong at the altar, you still saw him with women more suited to his station- the Duchess of Graham, Miss Jeon, Miss Williams…

"Do you really love me?" you asked him weakly. You hated how exposed and vulnerable you felt in this moment, looking up at this man that was better than you in every conceivable way. "Me? Out of all the more eligible young ladies in the ton… you are quite sure you wish to marry me?"

Joshua stepped forward and seized your hand before bringing it up to his lips. His fingers pressed softly but firmly against your knuckles. 

"I am sorry," he told you kindly, his dark eyes shining in the dimly lit study. "If I  have made you feel unworthy."

You swallowed. "It is not… it is not that you have made me feel unworthy, only-"

"Yes. I wish to marry you, and only you, Miss Lee. By the end of this month, I shall ensure that you will never again question my love or commitment towards you."

He turned and left your study. 

And so began, on a warm June night, your courtship with Viscount Joshua Hong- the most elite and sought-after bachelor in London.

---------------------------------------------------

A/N: As always, thanks for reading and feel free to share your thoughts or inputs!

Since Wonwoo and Joshua were neck-and-neck on the poll as of the time of me posting this, I've decided to go ahead with Joshua since his is shorter/simpler and we'll be doing Wonwoo next.

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

The Middle & What's In Between

Elks Chapter 3 Version 2.0

Chapter Rating: T. (Nothing explicit for the first few chapters.) Chapter Summary: You complete your mural for Joel as your feelings for him grow even stronger, and he might just feel the same way for you. Chapter Warnings: mention of child loss, first kiss, joel being ridiculously soft and touching your cheek a lot, spilled paint water (my enemy), cursive and brand new cd mentions (i'm writing what i know folks), like, zero drama at all, i'm sorry i'm so adverse to writing angst when it comes to jackson joel. Words: 3,700 Header courtesy of @saradika-graphics

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Masterlist Playlist

“The Recluse” by Cursive. 

The rain still falls on Friday, puddles grow in size and make everyone’s shoes soaked. Your students are grumpy with the canceled patrol training, and your own patience quickly dissipates due to the anticipation of going back to Joel’s house. 

You ring your bell to signal the end of the day. Your students are quick to all file out of the room–all except for Ellie, who lingers. 

“Saw what you’re doing at Joel’s,” she says, a small smile tugging at her upper lip, “I like it a lot.”

“Thanks. I figured I’d run into you while I was there. Where’ve you been?”

“I’ve been hanging in the garage. Joel ‘n I just got it all set up for me. Thought I’d give you and him some time alone.” 

“...Time alone?” 

“Yup. You know, alooooone time.” 

“Ellie. Come on now. Stop. I’m painting a freakin’ mural for him.”

“Okay, Teach, whatever you say,” she grins mischievously. “I see him looking at you all the time. He has big eyes, I don’t think he realizes I know exactly where he’s looking. I think he likes yoooou.” 

“Shut up,” you roll your eyes. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Nope! I’m leaving you two alone. I’ll see you Monday!” Ellie winks from the doorway.

You shake your head as she leaves, you’ve never met a kid like her.

After laying out your library supplies for the morning and locking up the school, you hurry home to drop off your bag. You change into your painting clothes, eat one of your homemade granola bars, and pick up the gift you’ve grabbed for Joel. With a goodbye pet and nuzzle for your cats, you turn your lamp on and close the door behind you, stepping into the chilly, soaked spring evening. The short walk to Joel’s feels longer under the pouring rain.

For the third time in a week, you’re outside of Joel’s house wearing your same paint-splattered overalls. You return his smile when Joel opens the door with a dish towel in his hands.

“Come on in,” he says, drying his hands. You’ve become entranced by the sight of someone like him–capable and rough around the edges–do something so domestic. The same hands that wash dishes, cook dinner, and adjust couch pillows have also held weapons and taken lives. His voice breaks you out of your thoughts. “Hope the rain didn’t make it too bad gettin’ here.”

“Oh, it was fine,” you say, wiping your feet on his doormat and closing your umbrella. “Nothing was as bad as dealing with the kids today, they hate canceled training days.”

“M’sure of that,” Joel says, glancing down at the two umbrellas in your hand.

You hold one out to him. “So, I had a spare umbrella in my house, and was saving it for a– rainy day. I want you to have it so you don’t have to walk in the rain when you walk me–or someone else home.” 

“Mmhmm,” Joel nods and chuckles. “Only people I’ve walked home are you ’n technically Ellie to the garage. One time Tommy when he had a little too much to drink.”

“Well, it’ll do you more use than sitting in my closet.” 

“Thanks. Real sweet of you.” His eyes stay on yours for a moment. You’d give him a hundred umbrellas just to keep him looking at you this way. 

“I should start, should be done with everything tonight,” you huff out, while trying to calm your nerves.

“Course,” he steps aside to let you move into the room. Your brushes and paints are exactly where you left them the night before, but a new addition catches your eye.

Your breath hitches. “You moved your stereo in here?” 

“I did,” he says, stepping beside you. “Thought you’d like to pick whatever CD you want without havin’ to leave the room. It’ll be louder in here. Your book’s right next to it for you.”

“Joel… this is so sweet,” you gasp out while your fingers absentmindedly rub the daisy pendant around your neck. “You moved everything, this had to have taken a long time.”

“Was no problem,” he shrugs, “I wanted to do something nice for ya.”

“You’ve already done so much Joel,” you say softly.

“It’s been real nice havin’ you around,” his voice makes your heart race. “It’s bee–I like having your company in the evenings.”

“I’ve enjoyed being here too,” you reply with a smile, barely able to hear your own voice over the thudding in your chest.

He lingers for a moment before clearing his throat. “Alright then, I’m gonna let you get started. Put on some music, let me know if you need anything. I’ll be in the dining room working.”

You nod, grateful for the moment to compose yourself as you pick up your CD book.

“And now we proudly present Songs perverse and songs of lament A couple hymns of confession And songs that recognize our sick obsessions So sing along I’m the ugly organ!”

It feels like twenty years ago. You paint as you play one of your favorite albums, The Ugly Organ. It still works, one of the few small miracles in the apocalypse. You pick it because you think Joel might just like it. 

Your mind drifts to a web of familiar thoughts as you paint…

There are so many things everyone lives without now:  traffic reports, amusement parks, cell phones, hot dogs, airplanes. Inconsequential things missed. Major life moments missed. You never got your driver's license. You never got to go to your first school dance with James, your cute friend who definitely had a crush on you too. You never got to go to Disney World. 

You learned fairly quickly that your survival was dependent on how much you could sacrifice and live without. Especially in the QZ, where bright colors disappeared under layers of dust and decay, once shiny metal rusting away. Three meals a day replaced by a morsel of food here and there to keep your stomach from growling. Freedom of choice becoming nonexistent.

But art? You still had art. You were lucky to have your three art notebooks and box of colored pencils. Those pencils whittled down by years and years of use. When the pages of your books filled up, you turned to your walls. Your ration cards were bartered for anything you could use to draw with whenever you could afford it. Your notebooks held your fantasy of a normal life:  a takeout coffee cup with a croissant on a plate next to a folded up newspaper, a Christmas tree adorned with ornaments and garland, a brick house with urns full of flowers by the front door, a bowl of macaroni and cheese. 

Then, Jackson. Jackson brought you color, Jackson brought you music, Jackson brought you a place to feel like you had a home. Jackson brought you your close circle of friends, Jackson brought you your belief in civility, and yourself, back. And Jackson gave you Joel. The thought of him sends a chill up your spine as you realize how special he’s become to you, more than just a crush… now a friend. 

The CD ends, after the rousing ten-minute-long final song. The lead singer repeats “the worst is over” along with a grand choir. The words resonate with you, you’re safe and happy here in Jackson. Life feels full… especially now as you’ve found some sort of companionship with Joel. 

You step back and admire the mural. Flowers begin to bloom across Joel’s wall. The water held in your paint jar turns just as violet as the bluebells across the wall. Your sense of pride in your art grows along with each painted bluebell. 

You pick up your CD book and flip through the pages, choosing the last CD you bought before that fateful fall day in 2003. Black birds fly across the reflective silver disc. You slide it into the stereo and hit play before picking up your brush. 

“I’m sinking like a stone in the sea, I’m burning like a bridge for your body”

The week before the world ended, you scheduled your drivers license test. Monday, September 29 at 4 PM. You were so close to freedom. You had already warned your favorite teacher that you’d have to leave art club early, and your mom requested off to take you in. You had practiced and studied, you were confident you’d pass. 

You glance towards the doorway, where you can faintly hear Joel working in the dining room. What was his life like back then? What did he drive? What kind of responsibilities did he have?  You know he was a contractor. What reason would he have to leave work early? 

You ponder about Joel's life before the outbreak as you paint each petal, getting lost in mixing the perfect indigo hues for each bell.

The final song plays, the singer croons over his acoustic guitar. He sings a story about a shipwreck, about death, about love. It’s your favorite, you never got to learn it on guitar. 

“What they call love is a risk, You'll always get hit, Out of nowhere, By some wave and end up on your own”

You finish the last few bluebells in complete silence save for the random hammer knocks coming from Joel in the other room.

You dip your brush in your jar of water and step back. Long green stems sprout from the baseboard, green wispy stalks shooting out embellished with bells of all different hues of lavender and indigo. You’re proud of what you’ve created for Joel, you hope he loves it. 

“Joel,” you call softly, peeking your head out of the doorway down the hall, “it’s done.”

You hear the scrape of the chair against the hardwood floor. Your heart begins to hammer against your chest as you hear his steps get closer. You’re nervous, so unbelievably nervous. You want him to like it, you’ve never done this for someone else. Nobody has ever asked you to share your creation with them in such a large size. Your art now takes up a piece of his home now, that feels monumental. 

You stand in front of the mural, staring forward at the mural as you hear him enter the room. You can’t bring yourself to look at him. You wait, feeling your heart thump against your chest as he stands behind you. Then, a sharp inhale from him.

“Wow…” he exhales. You can hardly hear him. “This is beautiful… thank you.” 

You want to smile and turn to him, be more present in the moment, but instead you feel like you don’t belong here. The vulnerability of this moment along with the feelings you have for him overwhelms you.

You nod, swallowing hard, still focusing on the wall. “I’m glad you like it,” you manage to say, your voice quiet and shy. 

“I… had a daughter before …everything. Name was Sarah,” the tenderness in his voice almost breaks you as you hear his revelation, “used t’call her my bluebell.”

Everything inside of you sinks at his admission. Sarah. You try to offer some sort of comfort, but everything feels inadequate. All you can do is apologize. “Joel… I’m sorry, so sorr—“

“I know you are,” he cuts you off gently. “I don’t need to hear that, please.”

He steps closer towards you, his front brushes against your back. “Seeing these flowers here… it means a lot.”

“I’m glad, I’m so glad,” a heartbroken whisper escapes your lips. 

“Thank you,” one of his calloused, large hands lands on your shoulder. Skin meeting skin where your tank top and overalls don’t cover. 

“You’re welcome, I feel honored to do this for you… and her.” You swallow down the sadness in your voice. Everyone’s lost so much, it’s an unspoken understanding for everyone who has survived.

“You’re so talented, this is gorgeous sweetheart. Y’sweet, so sweet,” Joel whispers as he turns you to face him. He grabs your hand, his thumb brushing softly over your knuckles. “The way you’ve come into here, making it more beautiful with your art, your music, ’n your laughter. You’re so soft and pure, don’t know how someone like you still exists.”

“Joel,” you exhale at his confession. Your skin tingles all over, your body begins to warm. His sweet words shush the sadness held within you. 

His hand lifts to your chin, tilting your face up towards him. “So sweet,” he says again, his eyes roam around your face. Your lips part instinctively, his eyes drop to them. He slowly leans in, his forehead rests against yours, his warm breath fans across your skin. “Wanted to kiss ya’ the day I saw your classroom. The mural on the wall… you make everything around you more beautiful.” 

You breathe in his words with every inhale, words you could only dream of somebody telling you. His hand lets go of yours and moves to your back drawing you closer against his body. The tip of his nose nudges against yours. His lips meet your lips–softly, slowly, deliberately. He’s so gentle with you, overwhelming you. The tenderness of his touch and of his care, it’s not something you’ve ever felt. He makes you feel warm, he makes you feel safe. 

You melt under his touch, your body becoming pliant as his strong arm wraps around your waist. His large hand rests on your hip, fingers tracing the fabric of your overalls. You’re a grown woman and he makes you feel so small and juvenile, kissing your crush in your paint stained overalls after a day at school. 

The kiss turns hungrier, breaths quickening, tongues tasting tongues, the casualness and comfortability of the past few days turning into fevered kisses. You snake your hands up his chest to wrap around his neck, threading your fingers through his wavy hair. He pulls you even closer, your body now smashed against his. Joel lets out a guttural groan that vibrates against your lips as he lifts you and moves the two of you back towards his work bench.

A loud CLANG interrupts everything. You both blink, breathless, and look down to see the jar of paint knocked over, indigo tinted water spreading across the floor.

“Goddamnit,” Joel utters as he sets you back down on the floor, his chest rises and falls with deep breaths. “Knocked over the paint water.”

“I’m sorry, I’m usually careful about where I place that.” 

“S’okay, I’ll go get a towel,” he says, already walking out of the room.

You use your small paint rag to pathetically mop up a small bit of water, still trying to catch your breath from what just happened. 

Were you really just kissing Joel Miller? Did Joel Miller want to kiss you? He did. He definitely kissed you, and you kissed him back. He even said he wanted to kiss you before. He called you sweet. Are you dreaming? The man you’ve written songs about, the man you’ve watched from the corner of the bar, the man you’ve thought about every day since the first time you first saw him. That man you just kissed you.

“Guess we lucked out it didn’t break.” Joel interrupts your inner dialogue as he kneels down and places the towel over the stain.

“Sorry again,” you apologize. 

“Don’t worry yourself, it’s cleaned up just fine, I’ve done much worse to these floors with stain and dirt.” He stands, offering his hand and you take it. You rise with a smile, he doesn’t let go of your hand, his palm covers yours. “See? Back to brand new.” 

He’s so reassuring and so tender, now you know why–Joel Miller has known love before. 

“Was hoping my favor to you would be done but it’s not. Come on.” 

He doesn’t drop your hand as he leads you down the hallway into the dining room. On the table lies a guitar surrounded by tools. “Should be done tomorrow, there’s a fret that’s giving me a helluva time, but other than that it’s all fixed.” 

Your eyes widen at the sight. Music. “Joel… I—I can’t believe this.” You beam at him. “Thank you.” 

“Course sweetheart,” he raises his hand to your cheek to touch you again. “It’s nothin’, wanted you to have your music back.” 

Your fingers brush over the hard wood of the body, you note a rough patch from a hole that Joel filled in. The guitar is so worn and rugged but also so soft and polished. It’s beautiful. 

Joel’s kind action surrounds your heart and plants a thought in your brain quickly realizing everything that you’ve done with him the past few days. Does Joel really like you the way you like him? It feels impossible. How would someone like him like someone like you? He’s strong and capable, you’re just a lone woman who likes to paint pretty pictures of animals and talk to her cats for entertainment. You know many of the rumors you’ve heard about big, bad Joel Miller are true. What’s this man doing using his time to make something nice for you? 

“Joel, this is–wow–so much. Are you sure?”

He nods, his eyes steady on yours. “M’sure, I’m happy to do it, it really wasn’t difficult, ’n like I said, I just have to fix the last fret and it’ll be good.”

“Thank you, again, I can’t believe this.” 

“Believe it,” he says softly, his hand lingering on you cheek before letting it fall.

It’s so much, everything that has gone on between the two of you begins to overwhelm you–making you even more tired than you realize. You hide a yawn behind your forearm, blinking your tired eyes a couple of times. “Sorry,” you yawn again, “I always get tired on Friday evenings.”

He watches you, a look of affection in his eyes. “S’alright. I know you’re tired ’n have an early morning tomorrow.”

“I do…” as much as you hate to admit it, you should get home. You don’t want to. The affection, the kiss, the look in Joel’s eyes when he looks at you. You really like being here. You don’t know if you’ll get another chance. 

“I’ll walk you home, sweetheart. You have a lot to take.” 

There it is again. Sweetheart. Three times now, he’s called you that.

“I’m going to get all of my stuff packed up.” 

“Sure, I’ll help you,” he says, following you back into his studio. 

You start gathering your paints into your cardboard box, while Joel gingerly takes your CD out of the player, his movements measured as if he knows how much the disc means to you. Another sign of Joel’s ability to care that makes you fall deeper for him. 

“You know… like I said last night… you can come over any time and use my stereo,” he says, placing a hand on his neck and rubbing it back and forth.

He actually looks nervous as he extends his offer to you, making your heart skip a beat.

“I… yeah, that sounds really nice.” 

Joel picks up your box full of paint off of his work table, his eyebrows furrowing critically at the sight of the worn cardboard. “This box is on its last straw, you know that, right?”

“I do, I just… don’t really have anything else big enough to fit everything that I can easily carry.”

“Hmm,” he grunts disapprovingly, as if he truly does care about the inanimate objects that belong to you. 

“I hardly have to take it places, so it’s not that terrible,” you offer.

“Still deserve better than that,” he says under his breath tucking the box under his arm. 

Joel opens his door before grabbing his new umbrella. “No need to use yours, this’ll work for both of us.” 

“We’ve shared one before,” you smile.

Your comment grants a chuckle from Joel. You love hearing his laugh. “Come on, let’s get you home.” 

The rain is light now–almost more of a mist–there’s no reason for an umbrella, but neither of you acknowledge or mention it. You like being under it with Joel, you like feeling the way your bodies brush against each other. You like how he angles it to fully cover you, leaving his large frame half open to the elements. 

As your home comes into view, you start to feel a pang of sadness. You don’t want this walk to end. You’ve never felt like this with anybody before. The instant comfortability of him, the way you can make him laugh, and the way he watches you, as if he can’t take his eyes off of you. 

Joel places the box of paints down on your porch table. “You home tomorrow night?” 

“Yeah. Just have the library, but I’m usually back here by the late afternoon.”

“S’alright if I come by and drop your guitar off in the evening?”

“Yes, of course it is,” your voice squeaks a little too high with excitement. 

He smiles, stepping closer, his broad frame towering over you, blocking the soft glow of the porch light. “Alright sweetheart, I’ll see you tomorrow then,” his voice low, eyes locked on your lips.

Your back presses against the door, your heart pounding against your chest as he leans in. “Yes, tomorrow,” you manage to whisper out.

“Thank you for your beautiful gift,” he says softly, his breath warm against your skin. “I‘m gonna go sit in my chair, and look at it.”

“You’re welcome,” another whisper even quieter than the one before.

Joel leans in closer, angling his head down to place a quick soft kiss against your lips, you barely have a chance to savor it before he’s pulling away. 

He cups your cheek again. “G’night sweetheart,” his low voice makes your knees weak, thankful for he front door against your back. You watch as he turns and walks away, this time he doesn’t look back.

[furiousgoldfish]

I'm going to sit down and try to explain this with patience, to everyone who still thinks calling out narcissistic abuse is 'ableist' or 'dehumanizing to the narcissists', and that abuse is something we're all equally capable of.

I don't think you understand what narcissistic abuse is, or how it differs from the other kinds of abuse. We can agree that all and any abuse is damaging, traumatic and scarring, but narcissistic abuse is so extremely pervasive, hidden, strategic and unbelievable, to the point where I can't honestly tell it's something any regular human would be capable of. And even more than this, the survivors of this particular type of abuse have found it extremely, extremely difficult to figure out they've been abused, even when they've been put through extreme, devastating, and absolutely dehumanizing scenarios. Realizing that your loved one is a narcissist requires your entire world to break down, and every piece of your heart shatters in the realization, and it takes months, even years to accept it.

The only way we can possibly figure it out is to connect the patterns. And patterns of the narcissistic abuse are focused on erasing one's own sense of self, one's perspective and ultimately, complete control over someone's emotions and behaviours. This is often done from early on, the grooming process starts at age zero, your value, worth and usefulness is determined by them, and you cannot wrangle yourself free from it on your own, not without someone confirming to you that you've been held captive, that your free will has been taken a long time ago.

Unfortunately, I have to give some examples, because I don't think it can be explained otherwise. When I was 2 years old, a narcissistic person found it a nuisance to watch over me, and they beat me up every time I disobeyed. I was a toddler. Then they proceeded to convince me that I was a demon, and would burn in hell regardless of what I do for the rest of my life. I've been brainwashed by this person to believe I was not a human being, had no human rights, that it was correct and regular for me to be locked up, beaten, and that it was my fault every single time, even when I did all that was asked of me. This person then had me comfort them after they would beat me, because it was a stressful experience for them. I wasn't allowed to cry. I would be beaten for making a face expression they didn't like. It was random and unexplainable.

Another narcissistic person created a game where they would give me wrong instructions for a task, then torture me when I did exactly as they instructed me to. It got to a point where I would beg them to tell me what to do correctly, and they would respond with a laughing 'you should be old enough to know this' and they would be even happier to beat me up and scream at me for getting it wrong. This person not only threatened to kill me regularly, but often made me believe I was in my last few seconds of life, putting me in position where I believed I was about to die. They forced me to work for them in unsafe conditions, heavy physical jobs, where I was not allowed to say I'm tired, not allowed to cry, and even after I'd do everything, they would still tell me I didn't deserve to eat. I was a child. I didn't think for a second I was being abused. I was already brainwashed to believe that everyone else had it worse, and that I was lucky.

I had no identity besides existing for them, I had no free will except to try and make myself into something they could use, and if I didn't do a good enough job, I'd be ostracized. They loved beating me, screaming at me and making me cry, and then they'd leave me in a room crying without being allowed to make any noise, while they laughed in the room next to me, as a family, loudly so I could hear what a great time they were having. They would treat other children gently in front of me in order to try and make me jealous. They would revise every part of what they did to me if I ever tried to bring it up. I wasn't allowed my own perspective, opinion, or complaint. I wasn't even allowed to remember the abuse correctly. I would be locked in a room and questioned and punished if my opinions weren't to their liking.

I don't believe this is something anyone is capable of doing. I don't believe anyone of us is capable of torturing a kid until the kid begs to be killed. I don't believe most of us are capable of erasing a child's point of view, their reality, their humanity to the point where the child is forced to live a life where they will either comply or be killed, and they will be tortured no matter what. This isn't a regular thing that a person can easily do.

Luckily, us who have been through this, have noticed that there is a specific pattern to their behaviour. That they use almost identical phrases with which their invoke guilt, fear and hopelessness. That they can go frighteningly fast from rage to laughter to acting hurt. That they enforce their will over ours with a specific type of terror that triggers both our survival instincts and our compassion and shame. That we've been groomed by them in an almost identical way - to not believe that we're allowed our own feelings, memories, opinions, point of view, or freedom. That we have learned to exist only to be an extension of them.

We also all noticed that we're all absolutely, beyond terrified of them, and that we don't feel we're allowed to say it, or think it. That we're taught by terror to keep believing that they're good people, that they do none of it on purpose, not even the most extreme, insane, egregious abuse. That they will go to any length, even committing more atrocities, to escape accountability. That they use tactics of darvo, gaslighting, double-bind, planting insecurities, triangulating, future faking, discarding, love bombing, mirroring, smear campaigns, projection, scapegoating, silencing, throwing tantrums, victim playing, like it's in their second nature. That they're genuinely, absolutely terrifying and almost unreal in how far they're capable of going. And most of all, that they are dangerous, and capable of completely turning another human being into their puppet, and never think for a second that it might be wrong. To them, we are nothing more but toys to manipulate, control, and discard. We are disposable. There is no limit to what they can do to us, because to them, we are not alive. They would do to us what normal people wouldn't do to a corpse. And they feel superior for it.

People abused by narcissists from early age are likely to develop the most complex and extreme disorders, complex ptsd and dissociative identity disorder being some of them, because that's what it takes to survive being a child and existing next to a narcissist. This means that small children need to be shattered in pieces in order to please the narcissist. Others that are very common are eating disorders, anxiety, depression, paranoia, avoidant personality disorder, panic disorder, and compulsions to cater to everyone's needs, to the point of our own destruction. This is what they make of us, on purpose, in order for us to be of use to them. And they will forever insist it's their right.

When I'm saying the word 'narcissist', I am not referring to 'anyone diagnosed with npd', I am referring to a person who will do this to a child, and insist on doing it for the rest of the child's life. I am writing it because I don't want children to have to live like this forever. I am not aiming to dehumanize the narcissist, their actions show who they are, I am saying, be careful and aware that this person will dehumanize you. That you are disposable to them. That making you feel good in order for you to like them, is a game to them, and one they're very good at. That playing the victim at you and demanding justice, will easily manipulate you into standing against the victims of abuse and talking down to them for 'dehumanizing their abusers', and being 'ableist to the npd', after being tortured past the point of return by those people.

A lot of us are permanently damaged by what's been done to us. We are not asking for justice. We're not asking for revenge. We are asking to be safe. We're asking for this to stop. We're asking for children not to be left alone with people who are dangerous to this level. We're asking you to understand that a narcissist left alone with a child means a child in danger.

It's common to not be aware just how bad it can go, because we think that most humans know not to torture a child. We believe that nobody would do things to children that narcissists do. If you read the stories of the survivors, you'll find out what actually happens behind closed doors. The themes of torture, dehumanization, sexual abuse, brainwashing, violence, and extreme cruelty are common, even towards toddlers.

I need you to not attack those children when they grow up and say they no longer want to be around narcissists. I need you to understand that they know what they're talking about when they say it's not safe, that they want to be protected. The society already failed to protect them at their most vulnerable, and they had to make it alive by their wits alone. And now you won't even let them speak without attacking them? It's inexcusable.

If you want to know about the narcissists, read what their victims have gone through. Then make a judgment on whether we're allowed to speak, and whether it's worth warning others to hold caution. I've heard and read stories of narcissistic parents sex-trafficking their own child, holding them captive and locked up and convincing them it's right to do this, using brutal punishments to 'train' them into inhumane slave-like behaviour, keeping the children in state so terrified the children wished they were dead. And in all those cases, they still convinced the children to love their parents, and to never blame them for any kind of abuse. Yes, even in the sex-trafficking cases.

Fighting for those children to realize that they didn't deserve that, is the only correct thing to do. Fighting to help them realize they're in danger, and that they deserve safely, it's not only right but extremely necessary, it's what we all should be putting all of our energy into.

Wanting to keep others safe will never be wrong. Wanting to protect those who still have their identity, their sense of self, their undamaged humanity, their free will and their point of view, that's worth fighting for! And above all, those who already lost it all, need to be protected. We cannot allow for already badly wounded people to be dehumanized over and over again. Nobody deserves that.

[whatifitookalilnap]

Three's Company, Four's a Crowd!

(Korra x Fem!Reader x Asami)

Prologue: Yuma Gives Birth to Half of the Airbending Population

(A/N: Hey hey! Wanted to give a lil intro to my reader insert fic here sorry it's so long. So this story will be Korra x Fem!Airbender!Reader x Asami they will end up a throuple. I will be covering over half of the show so it's gonna be a few chapters. I will be mostly focusing on season one and three. I won't cover season four at all and season two will probably be like three or four chapters at the most. Most chapters will be second POV but a few will be third person like this one. Also I named reader's mom Yuma because it's easier for me lol. There will be more entertainment in the next chapter rest assured! This will also be posted on my ao3 account I'll post that link right after this!)

"It's time to wake up, Turtle Duck!" Yuma whispered while gently rubbing her child's arm.

(Y/n) groaned and slowly sat up. Yuma's poor girl is not a morning person in any sense of the word. Her (h/c) hair was an utter disaster as it always is after a good night's rest. The five year old little girl yawned and rubbed her bleary (e/c) eyes in an attempt to get the sleepiness away.

"Can't I have five more minutes?" (Y/n) pouted.

"Not today, my love. We're visiting Gran Gran today, remember?" Yuma smiled.

At once, the five year old girl perked up at the mention of her grandmother. Honestly, that woman is the only reason why Yuma stayed in the Southern Water Tribe once the divorce from her ex-husband, Taro, was finalized. Zoh was an angel sent from above in Yuma's eyes. Always happily taking in (Y/n) whenever there was an emergency and helping around Yuma's home when she desperately needed a break.

Zoh has absolutely zero contact with her son after the divorce. Something about cheating on his wife and abadonding his child really pissed Zoh off. Honestly, Yuma can't even remember the last time someone was so loyal to her. It means the world to her that her ex-mother-in-law has her back. After all these years, Yuma felt as though she had a mother again.

"Yes! I can't wait to show you and Gran Gran my magic trick! I'm going to blow you guys away!" (Y/n) enthusiastically exclaimed.

"And I can't wait to see it! But before you blow us away, we have to fix this," Yuma grinned while patting her daughter's head.

(Y/n) gave her a cute little pout as Yuma began combing her hair. Once that was completed after much wincing from both parties, Yuma put her daughter's hair in two little buns atop her head. The Fire Nation woman then went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast while her daughter changed clothes.

Honestly, Yuma really couldn't wait to see what this little 'magic trick' is. (Y/n)'s been talking about it since last week and it has been driving Yuma mad. The Fire Nation woman has never been...how does one say...patient. Obviously, Yuma has all the patience in the world for her daughter, but literally anything else? That's going to be a hard no. She's also a very curious woman by nature. Yuma is just itching to know what the magic trick is.

Yuma highly suspects that (Y/n) might be a waterbender like Taro. She took (Y/n) to a waterbending show a few months ago and her daughter claimed it to be magic, which just furthers her suspicions. Yuma herself didn't have the ability to bend, so it made the most logical sense.

Then again, it could just be something like a picture or sleight of hand magic. Kids did have a tendency to exaggerate or bend the truth. There are plenty of possibilities which is greatly irritating because again, Yuma is painfully impatient and horribly curious.

Ah, well, it will be revealed today when they visit Zoh. (Y/n) rushed up to their little table and practically shoveled her food into her mouth.

"Careful now, we don't want to have to see the healers now do we?" Yuma reminded her.

(Y/n) didn't respond verbally but ate considerably slower. Her sweet daughter always got so excited to see her Gran Gran even though it's a pretty frequent occurrence. It really does take a village and even though Yuma's village is truly just one other person, she couldn't be more grateful for it.

Once Yuma finished her breakfast (Y/n) was shoving her out the door. The trek to Zoh's hut was only about ten minutes on foot so it wouldn't be long until Yuma got to see that magic trick.

(Y/n) talked on and on about how this trick is just the coolest thing ever and that Yuma will be so impressed. To be fair, practically everything about (Y/n) impresses Yuma. It must be a mom thing.

In what felt like no time at all, the mother daughter duo reached Zoh's hut. (Y/n) excitedly knocked on the door. It only took two knocks before the door swung open.

"Oh hello Yuma. Didn't you say (Y/n) was coming with you? I can't find her anywhere!" Zoh exclaimed while purposefully looking upwards.

"Oh you know how five year old girls are these days, she just wanted to stay home and listen to her radio," Yuma joked.

"Gran Gran! I'm right here!" (Y/n) laughed.

Zoh looked down and feigned a gasp of surprise. The older woman quickly scooped her granddaughter up and peppered kisses all over her face. (Y/n) giggled in pure delight as her grandmother smothered her with affection.

"And how's my favorite granddaughter doing?" Zoh smiled.

"I'm your only granddaughter, silly! I'm doing good! I'll be even better when I get to show you my awesome magic trick!" (Y/n) exclaimed excitedly.

"Oh? A magic trick you say? I didn't know I was getting good company and a show! We better all get inside to enjoy such a performance," Zoh smiled.

The older woman stepped aside to let Yuma inside and gently placed (Y/n) on the ground. Yuma smiled and gave Zoh a quick but firm hug.

"Thanks for having us, Zoh," Yuma said.

"I'm sorry, who is this Zoh you speak of?" Zoh grinned.

"Apologies. Thank you for having us, Mom," Yuma laughed.

"That's more like it. Besides, I'd have you guys around all the time if I could," Zoh chuckled as she locked the door behind them.

"Before I can show you my magic trick, I must grab my materials! Please, have a seat ladies," (Y/n) dramatically stated while gesturing to the couch in the living room.

Her daughter is just too cute. The adults shot each other an amused look before sitting on the couch. Once (Y/n) saw that they were seated, she rushed off to the kitchen to grab these 'materials'.

"You don't happen to know what this magic trick is, do you?" the Water Tribe woman asked her.

"No, not quite. She's been talking about it since last week but insisted that she would only do it with both of us present," Yuma explained.

"That must have driven you mad," Zoh smirked, well aware of Yuma's patience level.

"Oh, you have no idea. I really should work on that," Yuma sighed.

"All I'm saying is that this is about the age where children start to discover their bending abilities," Zoh said in a sing song voice.

"That was my first thought when she said magic trick. The waterbending genes do run strong in your family," the Fire Nation woman admitted.

"That they do. We're very strong benders, too. One might say, some of the greatest benders of all time?" Zoh asked smugly.

Yuma immediately rolled her eyes. She knew exactly what the older woman was implying. And it's all because of that alleged 'seer' Zoh dragged Yuma to.

Back when she was still pregnant with (Y/n), Zoh and Yuma were attending a festival in one of the main cities in the Southern Water Tribe. Zoh found a seer and insisted they get a reading of (Y/n)'s future. Yuma didn't exactly love the idea of a strange woman touching her belly to get a reading she didn't actually believe in, but figured it would be harmless.

Long story short, the seer told them three things. One is that (Y/n) will face great challenges in her life but will inevitably be victorious as long as she trusts in herself and her loved ones. The second thing is that (Y/n) will be one of the most powerful benders of all time and help create balance in the world. The final tidbit of information they got was that (Y/n) would be blessed to experience twice the amount of romantic love than most people got in their entire lives and will end up happily married with healthy children.

What a load of shit.

Seriously? Her daughter needs to believe in herself in order to overcome great trials and tribulations? That is the most unoriginal reading Yuma had ever heard. Could have gotten that from half of the fortune cookies in creation.

As for the bending, that seer probably says that to every person that crosses her path. It's not like benders are a dying breed, it's a pretty good guess that (Y/n) would end up one. The damn seer didn't even specify what kind of bender she would be! And that balance part? What a joke. Probably wanted to make it seem like she's meant for some great purpose.

The romantic aspect of (Y/n)'s life confused the hell out of Yuma. What did the seer even mean by twice as much love? Doesn't matter, because it's total bogus. Yuma is pretty sure that the whole happily married with children part is yet another thing that the seer says to everyone that gets a reading from her.

In other words, that con artist merely told them exactly what they wanted to hear. Zoh claims Yuma is just a pessimist and Yuma claims Zoh wasted her money.

"Relax, Mom. I highly doubt today is the start of (Y/n)'s 'destiny'," Yuma scoffed.

"Ye of little faith," Zoh said with a dramatic shake of her head.

At that precise moment, (Y/n) came back into the room with the biggest grin Yuma had ever seen on her. To both her and Zoh's surprise, (Y/n) did not come into the room with a glass of water. Instead, there were two little marbles resting on the palm of her left hand.

Okay, now Yuma's confused. Obviously, there would be no waterbending today. Maybe her magic trick is sleight of hand magic? But what kind of magic trick only involves two marbles?

The Fire Nation woman looked at Zoh from the corner of her eyes and saw she was just as confused as Yuma is. What is this girl planning?

"As you can see, here in my hand there are two marbles! No string, no magnet, just some boring old marbles! Now feast your eyes upon me!" (Y/n) excitedly yelled.

Both women looked on intently as (Y/n) hovered her right hand about two inches above her left. Both palms were facing the marbles. For a split second, nothing happened.

Then, the marbles moved. (Y/n)'s hands didn't tilt at all, they were completely still as the marbles levitated right in between both her palms. Then, the two marbles started to spin rapidly around each other in a circle.

Yuma's seen an exact picture of this once. But he is long gone and only one other person could pull this off.

There's no way. It's not possible. She can't be an-

"Airbender. Yuma, she is an airbender," Zoh hissed in her ear.

"But that's impossible! The only living airbender is Master Tenzin and we know for a fact (Y/n)'s not his!" Yuma hissed back.

First of all, unlike her ex-husband, Yuma's not a cheating whore. Second of all, during the divorce, Yuma wanted child support because it was the least Taro could do. He had tried to contest it by claiming (Y/n) wasn't actually his. Yuma went out of her way to be petty and gave the court four separate DNA tests. Each and every one of them confirmed Taro was the father.

Long story short, Yuma got her money.

Plus, Yuma's never even been in the same room as Master Tenzin. This means that (Y/n) has no biological relation to the previous Avatar or his family. Yuma knows her daughter can't be the current Avatar because she was already discovered about one year ago. This shouldn't be real. She shouldn't be able to airbend.

"Uhm, excuse you, it is very rude to talk while I perform," (Y/n) huffed as the marbles plopped back onto her hand.

"We're sorry, my love, we're just surprised. It's just, you're an airbender! It's incredible!" Yuma sincerely told her while struggling to get over her own shock.

"I see! So you're in awe of my super cool skills!" (Y/n) beamed. "But I thought there was only one airbender and you can only be an airbender if you're related to him."

(Y/n) has a very vague concept of bending. The only bending she's actually seen in person is waterbending and most of it is from Zoh to keep her entertained. She knows that people can bend both earth and fire as well as the fact that the only living airbender is Tenzin, Avatar Aang's son.

Yuma's daughter also enjoys listening to the pro bending matches on the radio but this is about the extent of her knowledge. How is Yuma supposed to fully explain this situation when she didn't understand it herself?

"Well I promise you are not related to Tenzin. But honestly, who cares how you can be an airbender?! This is phenomenal! Say, why don't we see what else you can do?" Zoh enthusiastically exclaimed.

(Y/n)'s entire face lit up, quickly forgetting about the technicalities of her airbending abilities.

"Like what?" (Y/n) asked curiously.

"I've got a stack of papers on my desk. Let's see if you can move them with your bending," Zoh told her.

"You're thinking big, Gran Gran! I like it!" (Y/n) cheered.

"That's my girl!" Zoh grinned as she rushed off to grab those papers.

Yuma took the opportunity to make sure all the doors and windows in Zoh's home were sealed shut. Of course they were, they lived in the South Pole for spirits sake! Even if they weren't shut, it still wouldn't have been able to explain the marbles rapidly circling each other in between the palms of (Y/n)'s hands.

The Fire Nation woman is pretty sure she's still in shock. Who wouldn't be? Her daughter has an ability that's practically extinct. It is nothing short of a miracle.

Zoh rushed back into the living room and plopped a small stack of papers on the table. She put her hand on (Y/n)'s shoulders and took a couple steps back.

"See if you can move the papers using your bending. I've obviously never taught an airbender, so it may be a little difficult. Feel the air in this room. Allow yourself to work with it to achieve your desired result," Zoh wisely told her.

Zoh's been teaching young children waterbending for years. Yuma doesn't understand how she's able to keep her voice steady enough to give off that confident instructor appearance under these circumstances.

(Y/n) narrowed her eyes in pure concentration and slowly lifted her arms. Yuma's jaw dropped seeing the papers slowly rise into the air. The young girl gasped in pure happiness at her accomplishment. Seeming to be testing the waters, (Y/n) began slowly swaying her arms from side to side to see if the papers would follow. They did.

Zoh and Yuma merely looked on in pure fascination as (Y/n) began to spin ever so slowly, taking the papers with her. The papers seemed as though they were dancing as they followed (Y/n)'s command, swishing in whatever direction she wanted them to. Her cute little face began scrunching up before dropping her likely tired arms. The papers, now no longer being controlled by airbending, began to slowly fall to the ground.

There is truly no denying it now. This isn't some small trick or accidental fluke, this is real.

(Y/n) is an airbender.

Yuma picked up (Y/n) and looked her dead in the eyes.

"I have to be honest with you, Turtle Duck. That was the coolest thing I've ever seen," Yuma grinned.

(Y/n) shot back what might be an even bigger smile.

"Thanks, Mommy! It was a lot of fun! I wonder what else I can do," (Y/n) smiled.

Yuma ended up zoning out as Zoh and (Y/n) chatted about how awesome the airbending is. It's certainly a fun thing to think about, what else could her little girl do? What is the extent of her abilities? She would certainly need proper training to-

Damn it. Damn it all. Reality's now hitting her like a train. This girl needs to learn to bend! And there's only one person in all four nations that could provide such services!

Oh for the love of spirits, (Y/n) is now one of two living airbenders! There's no doubt in Yuma's mind someone is going to want to hurt her daughter because of her extraordinary abilities! Not to mention the fact that Yuma has a pathological need to know how it's even possible that (Y/n) can airbend! There's so much that needs to be done and so much potential dangers-

"(Y/n)? My love? Gran Gran and I need to have a big kid talk. Why don't you curl up in your room and turn on the radio. I believe one of the pro bending matches just started in Republic City," Yuma told her daughter.

"Really? Awesome!" (Y/n) stated.

Zoh raised an eyebrow but ultimately didn't say anything as Yuma led (Y/n) to the guest bedroom she stays in for sleepovers. Once she got her daughter situated with her radio, Yuma walked back out and closed the door behind her. Then she dragged Zoh to the bathroom farthest away from the room (Y/n) was in and locked the door.

"Zoh, I need you to talk me down from a really high ledge because I am freaking the fuck out right now," Yuma hissed.

"Yeah, I had a feeling this might happen," the older woman sighed.

"What do I do? She's absolutely remarkable, Mom! She can airbend! The second person alive to do so! I just know some sick freak out there is going to want to wish harm upon my daughter! People always want to hurt the ones that stand out, good or bad! Oh spirits, what if someone kidnaps her and sells her on the black market-" the Fire Nation woman exclaimed, very clearly spiraling out.

"Breathe, dear. No one is getting sold in any markets. The answer is simple. We contact Tenzin so that (Y/n) will train with him and-" Zoh began.

"What if we didn't?" Yuma asked breathlessly. "What if we just leave now, change our names, and relocate to the Fire Nation? No one has to know. If no one knows about her, they can't hurt her."

Zoh gave her a look. Yuma knew that look. It was a look that said 'you're going off the deep end, kid'. Yuma did not like that look.

"And how do you think (Y/n)'s going to feel a few years from now, knowing you are purposefully trying to hide a part of who she is? How exactly do you expect her to control and conceal an ability she never got any training for?" Zoh asked.

Shit. Zoh's got her there. But that's why she's talking to the other woman. It's to prevent Yuma from doing something she'll regret.

"You're right, of course you're right. I'm just so scared. She's my baby. If anything happens to her...," Yuma trailed off.

She wouldn't make it. She knows she wouldn't.

"Nothing will happen to her. Not as long as she is properly trained. Katara was my mentor and we've stayed in touch. We'll make the journey to her place at once. There, she can contact her son and we will figure something out," the Water Tribe woman calmly told her.

Okay, Yuma likes this plan. It's a good plan. A solid plan. A plan that likely wouldn't end in utter devastation.

"Seems sane enough. But there's still the issue of how (Y/n)'s even an airbender. You know everyone's going to assume I had an affair with Tenzin. That's what I'd think. We'll need to brding the paternity tests and try to find out why (Y/n) can airbend," Yuma reminded her.

"I agree. Okay, obviously, if she's an airbender we must be descendants of Air Nomads. One of the girls I use to teach, Miyu, works in the archives at Republic City. I'll call her to send our family records over," Zoh told her.

"That's great! Alright, this is a real game plan. I feel much better now. Thank you," Yuma sighed.

"No need to thank me for doing my job," Zoh smiled.

At that, the older woman walked to the telephone and dialed this old student's number. Yuma began to anxiously pace around the room while Zoh talked to her former student. After a few minutes, which honestly felt like hours, Zoh ended the call.

"Alright, I asked Miyu to get her hands on both of our family trees and there shouldn't be any problem getting them to us. It'll take about a week until they're here," Zoh told her.

"Really? A whole week?" Yuma asked, visibly disappointed.

"Patience is a virtue, dear," Zoh grinned.

"Boo patience! I want to know now!" the Fire Nation woman whined childishly.

"Honestly, so do I. I don't think we should contact Katara until we have as much proof as we can get. This is going to be a rather hard hit for her," Zoh sighed.

"That's true. So for the next week we're just waiting?" Yuma frowned.

"Afraid so," the older woman confirmed.

"I'm nervous, Mom. This is huge. I'm worried this will somehow get out before we can get to Katara," Yuma admitted.

"I know, but please try not to worry. It's one week. We'll just keep her inside. And close all the blinds. We can just tell her a nasty snowstorm is coming. She's not going to know the difference," Zoh suggested.

"Oh, lying to my child. Hate to say it, but I kind of love that idea,"Yuma sighed.

"It's just one week. It can't be that hectic."

**********************

It was, in fact, that hectic.

Zoh was gracious enough to let Yuma and (Y/n) stay at her place until they got the family tree from the archives. Yuma's pretty sure that her child has rearranged the entire house at least fifteen times.

(Y/n) was restless. Ever since she found out she could airbend, it was the only thing she wanted to do. Yuma obviously didn't know much about airbending, but it's starting to look like her daughter's a bit of a prodigy. There's just no way a five year old should be able to airbend two chairs all the way up to the ceiling at the same time.

Yuma's daughter started to get irritated that the ceiling was in the way of her bending, so (Y/n) keeps trying to convince them to take her outside. Obviously, that's so not happening, so Yuma is trying to make (Y/n) focus on bending as many objects as possible instead of seeing how high they can float.

This child needs a damn airbending teacher. Yuma really could not wait until they could contact Tenzin.

To put it bluntly, when the family records came back, both women were relieved. (Y/n) thankfully is taking a nap, so they don't have to hide the papers.

After a couple minutes of searching through the results, Yuma finally found the Air Nomad in her very extensive family history of Fire Nation family members. Her name was Ina.

Yikes.

That is the first word that comes to mind when looking at Ina's rather short life. The records give very basic information. Birth date, death date, what kind of bender they were, and cause of death. The poor woman died at the age of twenty two, three months after giving birth to her only son. Ina had been burned alive. This was right at the start of the hundred year war. A Fire Nation soldier must have found her out.

Her son ended up being a firebender, which was for the best considering the fact that he also would have been killed if he inherited her airbending. What a tragedy.

"Did you find any Air Nomads on your side?" Zoh asked, effectively breaking the silence.

"Yeah, her name was Ina. Poor thing died from getting killed by a firebender when she was twenty two. It was at the start of the hundred year war. Had one firebending child. Any on your side?" Yuma asked.

"That's just awful. And yes, I actually did. Allin was his name. He was also about twenty when the hundred year war started, but must have hid himself well. Married a waterbender and had three children. Two of them were waterbenders and one was a nonbender. Died at the ripe age of eighty seven," Zoh informed her.

"Huh. I mean, Ina was in the very nation that wanted to eradicate the airbenders. That's probably why she got caught," Yuma frowned.

"Well, we've got what we need. Are we still going to start the journey to Katara's tomorrow like we originally planned?" the Water Tribe woman asked.

"I think that's best. I'm not sure if your furniture will survive if we wait," Yuma joked.

"Who cares about stupid furniture? My granddaughter is an airbender! That's so much better than furniture. I'll call Katara, tell her it's an urgent matter and I must speak to her immediately," Zoh laughed.

"Alright, I'll go and pack for all three of us. It's going to be a long journey," Yuma noted.

"Perfect. You already grabbed the paternity tests, right?" Zoh asked.

"Who do you think I am?" Yuma snorted.

She opened the top cabinet in the kitchen and revealed all four paternity tests.

"Show off," Zoh grinned.

Yuma merely laughed and walked to the room she was staying in to start packing. A few minutes later Zoh joined her. Apparently Katara was thrilled to get a house call so there was no issue there.

All Yuma told (Y/n) was that they were going to visit Gran Gran's old friend. The little girl just seemed happy to get out of the house, so she was ready for the journey.

Before they left, Yuma made sure to tell (Y/n) that airbending was their special secret and she would get to show Gran Gran's friend when they visited. (Y/n) didn't seem to put up a fuss about it, so off they went.

**********************

The trio made it to Katara's hut with zero incident. That was Yuma's main worry. She finally felt like she could relax when they walked up to the waterbending master's front door.

Zoh knocked a couple times before Katara opened the door. She smiled brightly before greeting Zoh with a tight hug.

"Oh, it's wonderful to see you again. I take it that these lovely ladies must be the wonderful daughter and granddaughter I've heard so much about," Katara said with a smile.

"Yes, that's us. It's an honor to meet you, Master Katara," Yuma said with a polite smile.

And it really was. This woman is kind of a living legend, after all. Yuma then nudged her daughter to give the woman a proper greeting. In (Y/n)'s defense, it's a pretty early morning so the little girl is still incredibly sleepy.

"G'morning, Miss Katara," (Y/n) yawned.

Katara laughed at the greeting, clearly finding (Y/n) as cute as Yuma does.

"Oh please, just call me Katara. Master and Miss is just so formal. Not really my style. Now come on in, it's a particularly cold day today," Katara said as she stepped aside for them to enter.

They walked into the beautiful hut and sat down on the couch. Zoh and Katara made small talk while (Y/n) leaned on Yuma's side, probably about to fall back asleep.

"Alright, you said there was a family emergency that only I could help with. I'd love to assist you out in any way I can," Katara said once they were all settled.

"Okay, before we show you what we're about to show you, I'm gonna need you to really look at these paternity tests," Zoh said as she handed Katara (Y/n)'s tests.

Obviously, Katara was confused but did as requested.

"Alright, her father is very clearly a man named Taro. What is this about?" Katara asked.

"Time to wake up, Turtle Duck. Show Katara your awesome magic trick," Yuma smiled while gently nudging (Y/n) awake.

"Must you demand me to perform when I clearly need rest?" (Y/n) grumbled.

Yuma snorted. Where in the four nations did this child get her sass from?

"If you do it now I'll let you have dessert before dinner," the Fire Nation woman said, blatantly bribing her child.

"Okay!" (Y/n) said brightly.

"Only use the marble trick, (Y/n). This is not your grandmother's house, Katara will not appreciate you rearranging her furniture," Yuma reminded her.

"Well you're no fun," (Y/n) grumbled.

Ultimately, she grabbed the little marbles from her pocket. Katara is looking more confused by the minute. Who can blame her?

With ease, (Y/n) put two marbles in between her palms and got them to rapidly spin around in a circle. Katara's jaw immediately fell open. The marbles fell back onto (Y/n)'s palm and she smiled. Then she plopped back onto the couch and fell asleep on Yuma's lap in about three seconds.

"(Y/n)'s an airbender, Katara. She's an airbender that needs training and your son is the only person alive that can help her," Zoh stated.

Katara looked like she was having a hard time processing this information. Yuma could relate. Katara then looked back down at the paternity tests like she really couldn't believe this child isn't Tenzin's. A completely understandable reaction.

"But how?" was all the older woman could muster out.

"Well. As it would turn out, (Y/n) is a descendant of Air Nomads from both sides of her family," Zoh told her.

Zoh pulled out her's and Yuma's family tree and pointed out the Air Nomads on each side.

"I'm not all that into genetic research, but something tells me it's almost impossible for (Y/n) to be an airbender. But she is and we need to know if Tenzin would be willing to train her," Zoh told her.

"Willing? Are you kidding me? Tenzin is going to be thrilled! Oh, it's his biggest dream to revive Air Nomad culture. Another living airbender not related to him is unimaginable. I have no doubt in my mind that he will be more than happy to train you daughter," Katara insisted now that she's relatively over her shock.

"Oh, that's wonderful news," Yuma sighed, utterly relieved.

"I need to call him right now. I'll make sure he gets here as fast as possible," the waterbending master informed them.

"Are you going to tell him (Y/n) can airbend over the phone?" Zoh asked curiously.

"Over the phone? Hah! I want to see his face when he finds this out. I'll just tell him it's urgent. If he leaves right after I call, his sky bison should get him here by the end of the day," Katara told them.

Oh thank spirits, it was going to be a quick situation. To be quite frank, Yuma has gotten really sick of waiting.

After getting off the phone with her son, Katara was kind enough to make them tea. While Tenzin would get here at some point today, it would be close to sunset when he arrived.

When (Y/n) woke up from her nap, Katara was heavily encouraging her to airbend. Yeah, the furniture was rearranged yet again. Thankfully, the waterbending master didn't mind at all. If all else fails, (Y/n) has a real future at being a one woman move in service.

As the sun began to hide behind the mountains, a loud roar was heard from outside. Katara got up from her chair, already knowing Tenzin had arrived. His wife, Pema, joined him in greeting his mother and introducing themselves to Yuma's family.

Yuma made sure to show Pema specifically (Y/n)'s parentage. They were, of course, confused out of their minds.

"Alright Turtle Duck, you know what to do," Yuma nodded.

"Do I get to move the chair?" (Y/n) asked excitedly.

"I don't see why not at this point," Yuma snorted.

(Y/n) then used her airbending to push the chair to the ceiling and gently lowered it back down. Zoh began clapping as Pema and Tenzin looked at (Y/n) with dropped jaws. Huh, Tenzin actually looked exactly like Katara with that expression. Strong genes.

"I know this seems impossible, but my daughter is an airbender. An airbender who needs a teacher. Master Tenzin, please, take on (Y/n) as a student," Yuma asked him.

Then, Tenzin fainted.

"I have to say, he took that much better than I thought he would," Katara noted.

Pema looked down at her husband then proceeded to check his pulse. (Y/n) frowned and looked down at the fallen man.

"Um, is he going to be okay?" the young girl asked.

"Eh, he'll be fine. But, more importantly, this is incredible! Another airbender! I know he's a little unconscious right now, but Tenzin will be more than happy to train your daughter. It's just, there's a bit of an issue with the living situation," Pema said while trailing off.

"I'm fully prepared to move wherever you need me to in order for (Y/n) to get proper training," Yuma said with zero hesitation.

She'd do anything for her daughter. This wouldn't be the first time Yuma's uprooted her entire life for family. If she's done it twice already, what's one more move?

"Cool, when are we moving?" Zoh asked.

"Oh, that's wonderful! That's really the only concern I had. We'll hash out the finer details once my husband regains consciousness," Pema smiled.

Yuma nodded and watched on as Pema then tended to the still knocked out man. The newly realized airbender furrowed her brows and aggressively crossed her arms.

"Mommy, I don't want to move. I want to stay near Gran Gran," (Y/n) frowned.

"Well that's an easy fix. I'm moving with you two," Zoh casually stated.

She's going to what now?

"Oh, okay! We can move now," (Y/n) said with a bright smile.

"Really, Mom? But you have a life here! You have work and-" Yuma began.

"And you two. I can find young waterbenders to train anywhere, but there's only one place where my family is. Besides, (Y/n) is going to be training as a bender. You're going to need a good healer on standby when accidents happen," Zoh told her.

Yuma sighed and wrapped the other woman in a firm hug. Zoh readily embraced her back. She watched as her daughter excitedly started to jump up and down at the prospect of her grandmother moving with them.

Yuma's daughter is an airbender. One of two in all four nations. Motherhood is not for the weak.

**********************

(Thirteen Years Later)

Korra sighed as she took a seat on one of the benches on Air Temple Island. It's been, to put it bluntly, an insane day. Republic City certainly isn't what she thought it would be. It's not like she had much of a choice, though. As the Avatar, she needed to learn to airbend. The selection of airbending masters are slim pickings given the fact that there's literally only two.

Given Tenzin's major responsibilities in Republic City, it did make sense that he wouldn't be able to get away from it even though it was always the plan for him to move to the South to teach her. What's always stumped Korra was the other airbending master, (Y/n). Mainly because they've never even met.

Tenzin's family visits rather infrequently to see Katara and Korra while she was in the South Pole. Korra’s heard all sorts of things about (Y/n) from the whole family over the years but the airbender’s never made an actual appearance. Apparently, the reason why the (Y/n) is unable to teach Korra is because she’s the one that gets sent out when there’s trouble with sky bison poachers. Some assignments take weeks, others take months and Korra doesn’t have that kind of time.

This (Y/n) girl has a pretty impressive track record. Got her airbending tattoos at age eleven, making her the youngest airbending master in recorded history. Korra remembers reading a paper a few years ago where (Y/n) saved a bunch of people from falling to their death in some gang related incident at the age of fourteen. Poor girl also had to fight off said gang members.

Korra’s always been quite curious about this air bending master. She figured now that she’s in Republic City and ultimately lives on the same island (Y/n) does, they would meet eventually. For now, Korra just has to wait.

Korra strolled around the island, looking for something to do. Maybe she could find an open space to train or something. She had some time to kill before dinner. Then, out of the corner of her eye she saw a couple adorable baby sky bison playing together. If Korra doesn’t get to pet one she might actually die. Knowing bison are a fan of apples, Korra picked a couple from the tree and held them out to the babies.

“C’mon little buddies, I’m not going to hurt you,” Korra cooed at the sweet little animals.

One of the babies perked up at the sight of the apple in Korra’s hand and began waddling towards her. Yes! Just when the baby was nearing Korra’s hand, she seemed to have been struck by an intense gust of wind.

Korra groaned as she landed on her back. Unfortunately, the madness did not stop there. Before she could even blink, Korra was literally suspended in mid air. She could feel air rushing at her from all sides, pinning all her limbs together as if she was in a strait jacket. Damn, she could barely breathe.

Okay, now Korra's starting to panic. She can't move which means she can't bend. Plus she has zero idea who is attacking her right now.

"Who the hell are you and what do you think you're doing to those bison?!" a woman's voice snapped.

At least now she can see the woman currently assaulting her. The attacker looked to be about Korra's age with (h/c) hair tied into a braid. Huh, her attacker is actually kind of pretty. But most notably, she had airbending tattoos.

Well this is not how Korra wanted to meet the other airbending master. She may not even need to deal with awkward introductions because Korra's pretty sure she's loosing consciousness.

"Korra, dinner's re- (Y/N) DROP HER RIGHT NOW THAT IS THE AVATAR!" Tenzin yelled in a frenzy.

The stern look on the airbender's face fell into a shocked one. Her arms flopped to her sides, releasing Korra from her air like prison. Korra doesn't even care that she managed to cut her arm on the fall down, she's just happy to be on solid ground again. The girl that can now certainly be identified as (Y/n) is just standing there in pure disbelief.

"She's the who now-"

[kisses-from-crows]

Random Campbell Bain Headcanons

(chapter 7 is currently a 5k word inconsistent mess but i can give you this so, ehhh? not sure if these make any sense but in my brain they make perfect sense)

-this mf LOVES halloween

-he will spend will weeks thinking up a bunch of overly complicated costumes

-he spends WAY too much money on halloween decorations (i want you to picture Campbell Bain with adult money….)

-he has gotten tangled in those cotton spiderweb things a million times

-he always gets really enthusiastic about carving pumpkins but doesn’t have the patience to do the super complicated designs. always manages to cut off bits he didn’t mean to cut off.

-has a tradition of smashing the pumpkins to bits in the first week of november. (he likes this part more than the carving)

-will literally beg to get his nails painted and then will IMMEDIATELY smudge them, everytime, without fail

-settles for coloring in his nails with sharpie

-scarily good at mario kart, like frighteningly good

-likes to watch the muppets when he has depressive episodes

-had an intense cowboy phase as a child, until he went to a petting zoo and discovered he’s deathly afraid of horses

-the type of person to go radio silent for weeks or spam you with 50 memes and 12 songs in a matter of an hour. (there is no in-between)

-will respond to an important text two days later with a link to song and nothing else

-has a MASSIVE sweet tooth

-and has absolutely ZERO self control with candy, will down an entire bag of marshmallows (he prefers the mini ones) in a single sitting.

-noticed that Eddie had started to sneakily take his candy so he started keeping secret stashes hidden in various places

-eddie will find a stash and throw it away, only to turn around and see Campbell munching on a king-sized snickers, just gloating

-is ace spec but constantly makes dirty jokes, partly for shock value partly because he finds it hilarious

-very touchy, doesn’t get the whole “personal space” thing

-insists that he loves scary movies and then will go to bed with all the lights on after

-finds a pair of shoes he likes and then wears them every single day until they fall apart, then refuses to throw them out

-his closet is full of converse held together by duct tape and a dream

-is the biggest baby about being sick. this mf will get a tummy ache and just start rolling on the ground whining about “this is the end, get my affairs in order, tell Eddie i love him”

-toes the line between being the dream/nightmare blunt rotation. he has the most entertaining monologues but he’s using the joint as a talking stick and accidentally ash’d in the water cups twice now

-not allowed to smoke anymore because it messed with his bipolar and he didn’t sleep for 4 days straight

-can’t cook for shit, regularly burns soup. is banned from using the oven after The Incident™️

-won’t explain to anyone what The Incident™️ is

-if you ask Eddie about it, he’ll just say “he knows what he did”

-rumor has it that it involved makeshift shrink-i-dinks

-visits Fergus’s grave at least once a month. sets up a blanket and just talks. tells him everything that happened since he came last. what the rest of the crew is up to

-always leaves some sort of bit or bauble for Fergus

-got very upset when they would go missing, until he realized the local crows were collecting them

-now he brings some food and an extra toy for the crows, they’re good friends now

-one of the crows always flies down and hangs out next to him, so Campbell is convinced it’s Fergus

okay that’s all i’ve got for now! (sorry had to make it just little sad at the end)

[feyhunter78]

Pink Pastels Pt 29

Description: Conchata O'Hara is not a fan of you and makes this clear to Miguel, but it ends up going a little too far when she drags Gabi into it. Pt 30

“Mijo, I don’t like this.” Connie says as soon as Miguel shuts the door.

They’re in a side sitting room, the music, and chatter muffled by the thick door. His mother is wringing her hands as she stands in the middle of the room looking up at him.

He turns to face her, massaging his temples. “You don’t like what?”

“Someone new trying to come in and take Ava’s spot, it’s too fast.” She says, a concerned expression on her face.

“It’s been four years.” He deadpans, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tries to calm himself down.

He’s never been good at this, even in his original universe, in fact he was worse back there because his mother was worse. Conchata O'Hara spent most of her life after her divorce from his stepfather guilt-tripping, he and Gabriel into running to her side at any given moment. She’d fake health scares, emergencies, claim someone had tried to break in and harm her, anything to trick them into visiting her at Wellvale Home.

But here? Here Gabriel dies much earlier, here his stepfather dies under mysterious circumstances when Miguel was thirteen, here his mother stays kind for a bit longer, this universe’s Miguel is in high school when she begins to change.

Then when Miguel arrived in this universe, he pulled her out of Wellvale and put her into therapy, then a nice apartment where she could bug everyone else before she bugged him. The guilt-tripping lessened, and he found he could actually tolerate visiting her.

“But Ava is still her mother.” Connie says that same disappointed look on her face he saw in the video footage from the day Ava left this timeline’s Miguel.

He counts to ten, then back down to zero in his head. Gabriel was always much better at this than him. He had more patience, in both universes.

“She is biologically her mother, but she isn’t her mom , she made that very clear to me.” Miguel says firmly.

Connie shakes her head. “She’s seduced you, hasn’t she?”

“Y/N?” He asks, both two seconds from laughing while also slightly aroused at the idea.

Would you seduce him? Maybe he’d bring that up to you, a little roleplay? You could be the beautiful assistant that seduces her overworked boss, turns him to putty in her hands…

“Miguel.” Connie snaps.

“No, no, she has not seduced me, she’s an elementary school teacher, Mamá.” Miguel explains.

“So?”

“So? So, she’s Gabi’s teacher, and she loves her job, she would never do anything to jeopardize it.”

“Most mistresses are teachers.” She says, crossing her arms over her chest.

He knows that’s blatantly wrong.

“You would know a lot about that, wouldn’t you?” The words come out of his mouth before he can stop them, and the look on his mother’s face is like a sucker punch to the gut. “I—Mamá—I didn’t mean…I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

“Tu hijo ingrate.” She says, shaking her head in disappointment. “I did everything for you, tried so hard to raise you well, but obviously I failed.” Trsl: You ungrateful child.

“Mamá…” He reaches for her, but she takes a step back.

“I am so sorry that I was such a terrible mother that you would give up so easily, really Miguel, you would abandon the mother of your child when she came all the way here to see you and Gabi, to apologize.”

“How did you know Ava was in Nueva York?” He asks, dread filling his chest.

“She’s my daughter-in-law, and she wanted to see her baby, I told her where you and Gabi moved to.” She says it so simply, as if she hadn’t driven a stake through his heart.

Not for the first time, he feels a wave of sympathy and rage for this universe’s Miguel. “You told her where we are? After I specifically asked you not to?”

“She wanted to apologize.” She emphasizes.

“No, no she did not, Mamá. She showed up and demanded to see Gabi, she tried to seduce me, and she called my fiancée a whore in her own home, in front of Gabi. She was never intending to apologize.”

“Well, obviously your perception of her is skewed because of your new plaything.” She huffs.

“She is my fiancée, I love her, I’m in love with her, and Ava will never be allowed into my home or near my daughter again.” He says with a tone of finality as he stares down his mother.

She rolls her eyes.

“Mamá, I’m sorry, but if you can’t accept that, then you won’t be allowed to see Gabi either.” This’ll break Gabi’s heart, but a boundary has to be put into place.

This would be much easier if he could just tell his mother Ava was dead, but he can’t and he won’t.

“You would keep me from my own granddaughter? This woman really has changed you.” She tsks, tapping her fingers impatiently on her arm.

She has no idea.

“It’s for the better, can’t you just be happy for me?” He asks, both frustrated and saddened that his mother can’t look past her own desires long enough to focus on him.

She sighs and takes his hand in hers. “Miguel…of course I can. If you’re happy, then I’m happy.”

He smiles slowly. “Thank you, it means a lot to me that we have your support.”

She pats his cheek. “I’m your mother, you’ll always have my support.”

He smiles and takes a step back, turning towards the door and pulling it open. You’re bound to be worried; he’s told you a little about how much his mother loved Ava, how she blamed him for the divorce, and how she treated him and Gabriel, but he didn’t go into too heavy detail. You had been so upset on his behalf, an almost righteous fury blazing through you.

“Sin embargo, no soy la madre de esa puta.” She mumbles. Trsl: I’m not that whore’s mother, though.

Her voice is so soft, and if his hearing wasn’t enhanced, he doubts he would’ve heard what she said.

“You clearly need time to process this news, Y/N, Gabi and I will leave you alone, and you can give me a call in a few days once you’ve calmed down.”

He leaves her behind as he heads back to the table, his eyes focused on you. How you try to cover your smile with your hand when you laugh, and the way you blend so seamlessly with Monica, Brett, and Nancy, his other family.

“Papá!” Gabi calls out to him from her seat beside you.

“Are you bored of the sheep already?” He teases, as he slides into the seat beside you, an empty one on his other side.

“Oh, Miguel, maybe don’t—” You try to warn him, but it’s too late.

Gabi nods excitedly. “I want one.”

“A sheep?”

“I’ll name it Wooly, and it can sleep in my bed with me, and we can go on adventures, and maybe we can buy a farm, and then I can have lots of sheep.” She begins to ramble on and on about sheep, and he sees Monica hiding her face in Brett’s shoulder.

“Did you do this?” He asks, glaring at her from across the small square table.

Monica raises her head, her lips pressed tightly together to keep a laugh from escaping. “No?”

“Brett?” He turns his gaze on the light brown-haired man.

“You know, Miguel, they say animals are really great for children’s social development.” Brett says, giving him an apologetic smile.

“And then a goat tried to eat my dress!” The tail end of Gabi’s ramble catches his attention.

He turns back to see Gabi holding out the hem of her dress for you to see. It’s got ragged bite marks in it, and pieces of fabric missing.

“Oh no, that’s no good.” You say, smoothing out Gabi’s skirt. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to get you a new one for the next gala.”

“I’ll take you shopping, nieta.” Connie says, taking the seat next to Nancy, the conveniently empty one next to him.

Miguel shoots her a look, but she ignores him.

“Really?” Gabi asks, beaming at her grandmother.

“I’d like to come with, if you don’t mind?” You ask, giving Connie a smile.

Miguel braces himself for his mother’s response.

“How sweet, but this is a family thing, we need to find her color for her quince.” His mother’s voice is saccharine sweet, and it turns his stomach.

“But she’s six?” You question, looking to him for guidance.

“It’s never too early to find your color.” His mother says.

“Of course, but children’s favorite colors often change as they grow older, shouldn’t we let Gabi make her color decision when she gets closer to fifteen?” Miguel sees you look towards Gabi, but she’s preoccupied with trying to beat Brett in some odd competition to see who can eat their pasta faster.

“Y/N is right, Mamá, Gabi is too young to decide what color she wants, why don’t we revisit this idea when she’s a bit older?” Miguel steps in, placing a hand on your knee to comfort you.

“You’re a man, Miguel, you don’t understand how important this is.” Connie dismisses him.

“I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but he’s her father, I’m sure he does.” You say, your smile growing tight.

He adores you, you who is trying so hard to befriend his mother for the sake of his daughter.

Connie smiles at you. “Poor dear, don’t worry, no one expects you to understand.”

You blink at her, stunned. “Oh—um, I mean, I grew up visiting Texas, I’ve attended quinceañeras before, I know how important they are to the family.”

“Yes, but, attending is not the same as hosting.” Connie laughs, the sound thin and mocking.

“Connie…” Nancy says quietly, her eyes scanning the table until they land on Brett and Gabi.

“Of course not, but Gabi is important to me, so anything that’s important to her is important to me.” You try to reason, clenching and unclenching your fingers around the stem of your still full drink.

Brett reads her glance and scoops her up, carrying her back towards the petting zoo, claiming he forgot to show her something super cool and important.

“And that’s wonderful to hear, but you don’t need to worry, really no one expects you to understand how important this is, you’re not her blood, her family, after all.” Connie smiles as she says this, and Nancy hides her face in her napkin.

Rages surges through him, but you beat him to it.

“I’m sorry?” Your grip on your drink would be enough to crack it if you had his enhanced strength.

“Connie, please.” Nancy says miserably. “Don’t do this.”

“Yeah, Connie, don’t say things you can’t take back.” You seethe.

Miguel’s feels trapped, stuck between two immovable forces, you, coming in hot with a rage he’s never seen before and his mother, radiating ice-cold contempt.

“You can call me Mrs. O’Hara, only family and friends call me Connie.”

“Mamá, y/n is Gabi’s mother, she—”

“I can handle everything a mother does.” You finish his sentence, fingers tap, tap, tapping angrily on the tablecloth.

Connie shakes her head. “It’s best to leave all the important things to me, or Ava, when Miguel finally gives up this little charade. You’re not her mother, and you never will be.”

Like a woman possessed, you shoot up, drink in hand, and throw it at her, champagne splattering across her and the tablecloth before you slam the glass against the table. It shatters, glass scattering across the pristine white tablecloth. “Don’t you ever fucking say that to me again.”

Miguel moves a millisecond before you do, wrapping his arms around you when you lunge. “Y/N!”

“Don’t you ever fucking say that to me. You miserable excuse for a mother, how dare you? You think that cheating bitch is better than me? When has she done anything but lie on her back and fuck with your son and granddaughter’s head?” You scream, fighting against Miguel’s grip as he pulls you away from the table.

“Y/N, please, calm down.” He begs, his enhanced senses helping him navigate around the other tables.

Monica rushes forward and takes what remains of the broken glass from you, before scrambling back to the table.

“Gabriella is my daughter, and I will give her the best damn quinceañera this city’s ever seen, and you will have to fucking watch from outside.” You continue, until Miguel slaps a hand over your mouth and drags you outside.

Tag list: @miggyoharaswife, @badbishsblog, @imisshim2much, @wanderlustingcastaway, @lynn-9703, @sleepyamaya, @erensbbg, @sweetea85, @ilovemiguelohara, @natthernandez, @stxrrielle, @ihateuguys, @jenniferdixon05207, @blep-23, @luvisaaxoxo, @minimari415, @emerald-09, @violet-19999, @kenchosaikuo, @groovycass, @youcantseem3, @lovefks, @nightshxdex, @dusstory, @aesniri, @munsonssecretblog, @kirke-is-my-name, @starbearieee, @chatoicboy, @act1839, @needsleep3000, @totally-not-georgia, @witchy-lizard, @cxmeiloorun7, @justrandomlolidk, @chimpkinnuggies, @alicefallsintotherabbithole, @loser-alert, @wwwellacom, @ryantryan6969, @lollipopin, @blakeaha, @youcantseem3, @a-cult-leader, @verexi, @purpleskiesandroses, @they2luv1naia, @sophiaj650, @idolautism, @rheannajrs, @merakiq, @rexs-wife, @sukaretto-n, @twilight-loveer, @f1shb0nez, @callsign-blue, @marcelineormars, @sxnasbitch, @111gltzpzy, @lucilavenxoxo, @ray-rook, @elizamelody, @soapbar99, @trashieboii, @erissco, @gardenof-venus, @vlads-dracula3

[c0la-queen]

Hellooo! I just found your page and saw that you write eddsworld stuff! (It’s hard to find fics like yours) and I was reading some of it and I just had a request I wanted to ask (if you don’t mind :D) okay so imagine tords father being actually affectionate with his wife (in private of course) but not just like kisses and stuff he’s LITERALLY all over his wife and is literally not afraid to drag her into the bedroom and tries to tell tord to be like that with his future wife! Btw I love all your fics I’m still reading them now lol

Okay this is a little funny to me because I'm just imagining my version of Tord except he has zero to minimal amounts of daddy issues compared to what he has in my usual timeline. So for this ask, we're delving into Tord: Healthy Family Edition. (Also I am so sorry for being dead. I'm a freshman going to college for the first time and have been adapting to everything!! You guys' support and patience means everything to me!)

--

So we're running off the scenario I gave in my Red Leader dating headcanons. If you haven't read that, see my General Dating Headcanons post.

If you're not interesting in reading that, which I totally understand, here's a brief summary of how Red Leader and Reader met:

Reader starts out as Red Leader's personal secretary. He's notorious for having such a horrible temper that he runs through secretaries like Sarah Boone ran through lawyers (true crime joke, sorry). However, Reader handled his temper and returned it to him tenfold, earning his respect and eventually his love.

Now, in this world, Tord actually had a healthy family life. As the ask said, his father was very openly affectionate and in love with Tord's mother when in private. With Tord and his younger sister, it was what you'd see from parents in media that were happy and in love. Open PDA, frequent dates, and compliments galore. Tord's father, as the Red Leader, would shower Tord's mother in gifts - the finest jewelry in whichever metal she preferred, luxury chocolates, trips to different countries, etc. But it wasn't always money. He spoiled her in other ways, too. Filling the house with vases of her favorite flowers. Giving her massages in the privacy of their bedroom if she was sore. Doing everything in the house on days when she's especially tired. When his mother was pregnant with Tord's younger sister, his father's already heavy spoiling was increased tenfold. Tord was old enough to perceive the world at that point, so his father made sure to hammer into his brain that when his future wife is pregnant, he needs to treat her like a goddess incarnate. Tord took that to heart.

When Tord got older - about his teenage years, maybe around when his father had "the talk" with him (he had no idea Tord didn't need "the talk" and that he had been exposed to copious amounts of hentai when he was 15) - his father started to teach Tord how he expected him to treat his future wife all the time. Of course, Tord had grown up seeing how his father lavished on his mother. But there were some parts that he didn't quite understand as a child that his father clarified. Like his mother's periods! His father taught Tord that while all periods were experienced differently, there were a few different things that generally all period-havers enjoyed. I recently saw a TikTok where a woman said "however much you're spoiling your girlfriend during her period, I want you to triple it." This is something that Tord's father would say to him.

As for bedroom happenings, Tord's parents would do what good parents should do and make sure that the kids are never exposed to that part of their lives. When they're old enough to know what sex even is, Tord wants NOTHING to do with even thinking about his parents having sex. It sends shivers down his spine. For your pleasure as the dear readers on the other side of the screen, I will just say - Tord definitely got his father's genetics <3. Tord's mother was a very content woman.

Back to present day Red Leader (Tord, not his father), there are two stages to his relationship with Reader. The first stage is when they're still dating. Well,, dating in Reader's eyes. As I said in the general headcanons, Red Leader sees dating Reader as an unneeded formality. But Reader, being sensible, still wanted to take it slow instead of jumping straight into marriage. She would continue to work as his personal secretary - its his fucking army, whose going to stop him? The HR department isn't going to say anything since they're both consenting adults and any soldier who is stupid enough to try to accuse Reader of being a gold-digger is going to be cleaning every bathroom on base for a month.

Where it differs in this timeline is that Red Leader wouldn't try to keep a professional air around you in public. He'll come up behind you and wrap his arms around your torso, resting his chin on your shoulder. It doesn't matter if you're talking to another soldier about some paperwork or some other red tape nonsense. If the soldier you're talking to has any objections, they're quickly silenced by Red Leader's piercing stare. They're not risking putting their ass on the line. If you berate him for it afterwards, Red Leader will just pout and whine like a petulant child. He was getting bored doing paperwork and just wanted to hold you, how is that a problem :( He's so protective of you and is even more open about it now. He'll give you at least one body guard if you're going somewhere without him. Makes sure that you're exempt from normal soldier duties because HIS darling should only be tending to him and that's it. He openly shows so much favoritism toward you that even if you two were trying to keep your relationship a secret, every soldier was able to see it within like a week.

Once you two are married, you don't have the option of still getting to be a soldier. Red Leader will let you have whatever hobby you want - no matter how strange, niche, or complex it is, he'll fund it just to make you happy - but you're not going to be doing ANY kind of work if he has anything to say about it. Even if you just end up sleeping through most of the day, he's perfectly content to let you nap the day away all safe and cuddled up in his luxury satin bedsheets. Shows so much PDA all the time. Doesn't matter where you are or who is there. If you're in the base and some soldiers come into Red's office for something, he'll talk to them with a straight face while you lounge on his lap doing something or other. Discussion over drinks with an ally world leader of his? He'll still have you pulled flush to his side with his arm around your waist. Out in public with cameras on you? You bet your ass he'll still pull you in for a sweet, chaste kiss or press his lips to your temple as a silent reminder that he loves you.

Took all his father's advice to heart. You are the most spoiled person on the entire planet, you think. Cleopatra would be so envious with the way that you had Red Leader falling to his knees at your feet just to make you happy. Anything you want, anything at all, he'll get it for you. There has been multiple times where you were craving something specific from a certain country and Red Leader made it his mission to fly out to that country just to get you your craving. All the same kinds of presents that he watched his father shower on his mother - he would get for you, too. Jewelry in your favorite gemstones or ones that matched your eyes. Diamonds in every form, shape, and size. Clothing made of the finest imported materials. Desserts from around the world that were made for queens. Hundreds of dollars of perfumes in your favorite scents. Anything and everything just for you.

Takes your periods very seriously. He somehow knows your cycle better than you do. Tracks it like his life depends on it. He knows that your period is coming days before you're even aware that its time. The morning it starts, he's already got everything on hand. Whatever things work best for your period. A heating pad or ice packs, a bottle of Midol, and every snack and drink that you crave. He'll have the base kitchens make bulk desserts just to have on hand for you. Ice cream is already in the freezer. You're aching or bloated? The bath is already full and has your favorite bath oils added. That metal arm does wonders to massage your aching muscles. If you need something weighted for your cramps, what better than a buff soldier to lie on top of you! (If you need any kind of release, Red Leader isn't afraid of a little blood ;3)

If you ever get pregnant? Forget ever getting up for any reason other than daily exercise that's healthy for you and the baby. Even then, you're only allowed to walk around you and Red Leader's living quarters or out in the grassy training grounds with Red Leader by your side the entire time. Other than that, you are confined to bed or couch rest at all times. You are literally growing his child every hour of the day for the next nine months. Red Leader doesn't want you even thinking of doing anything other than resting and being the amazing person that you are. He'll do everything that the base doctors said would be good for you and the baby. He makes vitamin and herbal drinks for you, gets you every craving, and makes sure you're at top health. He deals with your shifting hormones without ever making a fuss. The affection is cranked to maximum - with the gift-giving having the added bonus of baby oriented items. He was never happier than when he sat on the floor of the nursery, putting together your new IKEA crib while you researched nursery themes on Pinterest in the plush chair against the wall. Not to mention, he increased base security more than ever during those nine months. He didn't want any of his enemies even sneezing within 1,000 miles of the base without him knowing about it. Not when the love of his life was more vulnerable and fragile than ever.

Tord's father in this timeline would be proud of the man he raised. Women are a gift to this world and deserve to be treated as such. Reader is Tord's entire world and he wants her to feel like it.

[pikachu78109]

General Lance Headcanons

((These are some general headcanons that I came up with for Lance that I wanted to include earlier in my initial headcanon entry for him, but didn’t))

I see him in his late twenties to early thirties, honestly. Like, maybe 28 or nearing 30 at least. Despite his looks, Lance appears far more older than what others think initially. He’s told he looks like he’s twenty or eighteen, which is such a common assumption that amuses Lance.

His relationship with Clair can be tumultuous. They get along fine, but there are moments when Clair’s overly competitive and sore loser mentality wears Lance down. He can handle her outbursts like a pro; he’s got the patience of a saint, but he does find himself nearing the end of his rope whenever Clair gets too defensive. I think it helps that at one point in his childhood Lance has been in Clair’s shoes, but has managed to keep calm thanks to the Dragon Master’s guidance. Whenever Clair challenges Lance to battle at the Pokémon League and loses, she throws another one of her outbursts, much to Lance’s dismay. He’s often asked by League members, Gym Leaders included, why Clair still has a Gym Leader position. Part of him hopes that whenever Clair faces a Trainer and loses to them that it will make her more humble. That’s yet to happen as her pride is so high that it takes the Dragon Master to threaten her by telling Lance what’s up that she relents the Gym Badge. Regardless, Lance understands Clair’s position but he does not condone her ill behavior.

Lance didn’t grow up with a lot of friends outside of Blackthorn, so it was mainly just him and Clair. When he got old enough to go on his journey, Lance didn’t know what to expect. He was made aware of the different towns and cities across Johto and Kanto as well, so he wasn’t completely sheltered. However, his lack of social skills and stoic exterior has led people to be, let’s say, intimidated by him. It doesn’t help that Lance traveled the two regions with his trusty Dragons, which are far more intimidating than just him alone. This made Lance feel like an outcast, which he kind of was, therefore he ends up keeping to himself. However, all it took for him to come out of his shell was for a couple of little kids to curiously ask him about his cape, which did lighten Lance’s spirits.

His three Dragonites are all different, personality wise. One is a big softie who loves being cuddled and enjoys wearing Lance’s cape. They are the equivalent to a Golden Retriever and the youngest. The second Dragonite, the “middle child” so to speak, keeps to themselves. They enjoy lying around and dozing off, but are quite capable of getting shit done when told by Lance. And, lastly, the third Dragonite, the oldest. This one has been with Lance the longest, making them the “leader” of the pact. They are a ride or die with Lance, partners til the end, and has zero tolerance for BS (also much like Lance). This Dragonite was gifted to Lance when it was a newly hatched Dratini when Lance was around eleven (the ripe age for upcoming Dragon Tamers to receive their first Dragon Pokémon). Lance loves and cares for his Dragonites deeply and will, without question, lay down his life to protect them as all three are his closest companions.

Despite his stoic demeanor, Lance is a sweetheart. He’s polite, helpful, friendly, and just wants to enjoy life being around both people and Pokémon. He understands that he’s an intimidating presence but he strives to be more approachable. He tries to find some common ground, although it’s still difficult for him, but he TRIES.

Not much a movie person. Lance doesn’t like sitting for long periods of time while watching a television screen. He likes moving around, so sitting still for an hour just isn’t his forte.

For some reason, I see Lance having a shitty sleep schedule. I mean, he’s constantly on the move and doesn’t stay in place for longer than a minute. One moment he’s getting up at an ungodly hour, say 3AM, training. And then, before you know it, he’s passed out on the couch until 5PM or at noon. At times, he’ll go two or three days without sleep. His sleep schedule is in such shambles that the Johto Elite Four have had to set up alert reminders for him to go to bed at around 9PM and get up at 7AM. They nearly have had to do an intervention just to get Lance to sleep properly.

When not wearing his usual uniform, Lance likes to put on a simple black turtleneck or V-neck T-shirt. Usually this is rare, but whenever Lance has free time that isn’t being swallowed up by the League or other pressing matters, Lance likes to dress casually.

Prone to getting into physical altercations, either with people or with Pokémon. Lance can hold his own in a fight (not a Pokémon battle, mind you) and has thrown hands before. While he is nowhere near Bruno’s level of strength, Lance can get a few hits in and can take his fair share of bruises and cuts. These fights are usually provoked by Lance interfering in illegal activities, which causes escalation to ensue. Luckily, Lance has never had a weapon pulled on him.

Gets cold pretty easily. Living near the Ice Path, the winters in Blackthorn can be pretty brutal, so Lance has never truly adapted to being cold. People think it’s funny that the Dragon Tamer Lance gets cold easily since, you know, Ice beats Dragon types. But, truth is, winters in Blackthorn can be deadly under the right conditions. Lance has spent many winters in the Dragon’s Den, caring for the Dragon types there so he has little need (or desire) to venture out into the wild wintry whiteout.

Not a public transportation kind of guy. If Lance wants to go anywhere, it’s either on foot or on his Dragonite’s back.

Enjoys domestic living, like cooking and cleaning. When he was younger, he was raised by his single mother who did a lot around the home, so that homely influence affected him greatly. He likes keeping things in order and has kept a lot of his mother’s recipes after she passed.

Lance holds onto his relationships very, VERY closely. If anyone dares to harm any one of his friends or family, they are in for a bad time (cue Megalovania).

Keeps in contact with some of the other Champions, like Cynthia and Steven. They all would meet up to discuss news about their respective regions and other events/issues. Isn’t so much political as it rather focuses on the Pokémon League aspect of each region and how each League is being cared for and how they are upholding their foundation. Still, these meetings allow Lance to catch up with other Champions, more than anything.

[blue-rose-soul]

Love ur au!!! You have so many interesting thoughts I just adore reading everything you’ve posted!

You’ve already established that Alastor would have exactly zero interest in any sort of bond with his dearly detested sperm donor but I was curious as to what you thought on whether Lucifer would want a relationship with Alastor? How would he approach that?

Hey, much appreciated! Honestly, with the first post I expected it to be a weird niche AU no one besides me would enjoy. I'm really glad you and others are enjoying it and I'm enjoying you guys' questions!

I do think Lucifer would want to try forming a relationship with his long lost son (that feels so weird to type, imagine how weird it would be for Lucifer to say the phrase aloud, lol). From what we've seen of him, he seems like a loving and sweet man who adores his family, even if he's not always the best at expressing that love. I think if he found out he had a kid out there, no matter who that kid was, he'd want to form some kind of relationship with them. Of course, Alastor being Alastor complicates things quite a bit.

They didn't exactly make a great first impression on one another, on top of which Lucifer harbors a lot of guilt for leaving Nicaise to raise a child alone, and Alastor to grow up without a father. Especially when he learns what happened to Nicaise later. Lucifer thinks it's his fault Alastor is the way he is, which... kinda sorta fair? Alastor definitely had an unstable childhood which certainly played a part in Alastor growing to become an unstable adult. That being said, ultimately there were a lot of outside factors contributing to that instability, and at the end of the day, Alastor's choices were his own.

I go with the 'Dexter-like moral code' interpretation of Alastor's murder targets. But I also think there was a fair amount of disproportionate retribution. A man who beats his wife definitely deserves to get beat back and then divorced, but not butchered like an animal. Granted, the culture being what it was at the time, it's doubtful Alastor's targets would have faced any other kind of retribution than what he gave them.

All this to say that Alastor feels perfectly justified in the horrible things he's done, and Lucifer blames himself for Alastor becoming this warped, vengeful person.

Lucifer's attempts to get close to Alastor are horribly, painfully awkward. Remember how he answered Charlie's phone call with, "Heeeeeeeey, bitch!"

Yeah.

He tries, he really does, but a lot of the times Alastor just shuts him down before he can even open his mouth. So he tries going to Charlie for help.

"Ooooof, see, here's the thing, dad... I want to help, I really do! But I'm trying to do this thing where I'm more respectful of other people's boundaries. I mean, I'd love to see you and Alastor getting along! But if he doesn't want to talk with you, I'm not going to force it? As long as you guys aren't fighting? I'm sorry."

And that's as far as Lucifer gets with Charlie. So he tries talking to Niffty and Husk, the two people in the hotel who know Alastor best. Niffty is... sweet, but not entirely helpful. Husk gives what advice he can, but he's got his own chip on his shoulder regarding Alastor, understandably.

"Look, Alastor's a mean son of a bitch who lives to make my life more of a hell than it already is. He's fucked in the head. Always has been. You might as well cut your losses."

That's disheartening to say the least.

I do want there to be a happy-ish end where reconciliation happens. But it would take a loooooooot of time and patience on Lucifer's part. Especially with Alastor making an active effort not to get close with anyone at the hotel.

[pistoncupposting]

wo my humanised tim treadless design be upon ye. i fear i may have twinkified him by removing his stache-gril thing but in my defense storm chasing did it first.

some self indulgent headcanons for him

charming and extroverted, made a lot of connections at his racing academy, knowing it would get him a better chance at getting his career off the ground

had a reputation for being a teacher's pet too because of this, knew how to suck up and get on someone's good side really well yet was still mostly well-liked

worked a small part-time job as a barista while at the academy just to get by and send his family some extra money and was pretty good at it as he also helped at his family's store before

working in customer service has given him so much patience and a tolerance for hate and rude people but has also made him judge people wholly on first impressions

he is ticked off by jackson storm specifically because to him, this random gamer off the streets with zero real racing experience was just handed this opportunity to race for a huge company and just doesn't think he deserves the position

was pretty surprised when he turned out to be performing just as well and then better than him which ticked him off even more since he wasn't much of a natural learner as storm seemed to be

the whole time, he very firmly believed storm's place on the team was a publicity stunt and it's why storm wasn't fired for his consistent bad behavior and disregard for the rules up until he was chosen to be biggs' offical racer

filipino, grew up in the philippines and then left "to go study abroad" which is technically true but he and his family usually leave out the racing bit

oldest brother, has like 5 siblings (youngest not pictured below as he is but a baby) and send them all gifts whenever he can

one of his siblings is a jackson storm fan and they asked him for a a piece of autographed merch of storm and he really mulled over wether to follow through or not

he did, obviously. but cruz took the bullet for him, got a face mask and sunglasses then lined up on storm's merch stand then on his meet and greet line to get it signed and cruz still wonders if storm knew it was her

he's a good sport and has learned to keep his frustration about losing in check and to himself as a child when he was playing with his siblings

but still gets terribly competitive but is less obvious now as he's in a naturally competitive environment but you can really see it when he gets way too into karaoke or uno

even after storm left the biggs racing team, the thought of getting to beat him was still his biggest motivator but he will keep this to himself up to the grave he is sooo embarrassed by it

[thebluestbluewords]

mal apologist 4 life babey

I know that I talk a lot here on thebluestbluewords dot tumblr dot com about how Mal is my favorite, and I truly believe that she thought she was making the best/only choices available to her throughout the Descendants movies, even when those choices are objectively pretty stupid and bad. (this is the setup, I swear)

I’m reading Mal’s Diary for the first time, and every other page is hitting WEIRDLY HARD with how much Mal is a child who was never really given an option outside of what her mother wanted. Which, okay! That’s relatable for a lot of kids, even if their parents aren’t the Mistress of All Evil. A lot of young kids feel like they don’t have agency in their lives, because their parents do have a lot of control over what they can do and believe, even if they’re not…evil about it. And seeing that echoed in a movie where the main theme is about choosing good no matter who your parents are, and making your own path, is great!! It’s a solid message and execution of the theme.

As an adult….it makes me REALLY REALLY sad for Mal that she basically goes from being trapped under her mother’s power, to trapped under the weight of every royal expectation of what she “should” be doing. I know these books aren’t supposed to be that deep, but just….hear me out here.

Mal is a child who was mistreated by her mother for the first sixteen years of her life. Her mother holds all of the power here. Mal doesn’t have a choice in the matter. She can’t run, she can’t hide, and she can’t refuse to leave. Her mother is using her, and Mal knows it, but she also doesn’t have an alternative. Maleficent wants an heir, and she has the power to punish her daughter for the rest of her life if she doesn’t comply. Mal doesn’t start out the movie with any real agency, because her mother has cut off all of her options.

She’s been raised by a mother who will not miss her. Maleficent took ZERO convincing to send her daughter off to boarding school with no gaurentee that she’d ever return. Maleficent was the one convincing the other three parents to send their children off the isle. She doesn’t see Mal as a person, she sees her as a tool. Mal might know that she’s valuable to her mother, but she’s valuable in the same way that a hammer is valuable, as a tool. If Mal messes up, she’s grounded for the rest of her life, and I don’t think it’s too far of a reach to assume that Maleficent does truly mean that. A woman who is prepared to put a curse on a baby that won’t activate for sixteen years has the patience to lock her daughter away like a broken toy, and from the way Mal talks about her in the book, I don’t doubt that she’s go through with it. To her mother, Mal is valued as a tool, not a human person with independent thoughts and feelings.

A couple of pages later, Mal is writing about her future. She spends one line on what she might have wanted to be, and then outright says “it doesn’t matter”. Her own desires don’t matter, because her mother wants a mini-villain of her own, and she’s groomed Mal since birth to step up and take on that role.

Even in her own diary, Mal’s only just starting to think that it would be nice if she wasn’t just her mother’s pawn. She’s not seriously considering other options for her future. She doesn’t see those other options as a choice that’s available to her, but she’s finally able to think that maybe, it would be nice if she HAD that choice. Sixteen years. It took Mal sixteen years to get to a place where she’s starting to think that it would be cool if her future wasn’t owned by her mother. She’s only just now in a place of physical safety where she can even wonder if she has options outside of her future being controlled by her mother. Is it any wonder that this girl makes some bad choices as soon as she has any agency?? She’s never had the OPTION to make bad choices before, because all of her actions, every part of her future, was planned out by her mother.

(Why yes, I think about stage mother Maleficent AU all the time. Pushing her daughter to be the best, the most competitive, and most ruthless performer?? Having a vendetta against the rival stage mothers with their daughters who could never be as talented or as Worthy Of Trophies as hers?? Projecting her own glory days onto her daughter?? It’s basically the perfect AU to explore the parent-child relationships of this movie through a more focused lens).

[secret-smut-sideblog]

We The Drowned

Ascended Astarion x F! Tav

18+ fear, drugging, injury, fears of pregnancy, dubcon, longing, implied death, self sacrifice, just indulgent drama

Astarion long since ascended, Tav has made her mind up to escape his grasp at any cost...

-

Hands shaking, she laid awake. Plan already in motion. But Gods she was so afraid.

Tears sliding down cheeks she cursed herself.

It was what he wanted, what he begged her to help him achieve. Ascension. And Gods she had wanted the world for him. Wanted him to follow his own desires. Had trusted him. Trusted him to know what would be best for him.

She was wrong. So very wrong.

The man laying next to her was far from the man she fell in love with. Cruel. Cold. Vicious.

Oh how she had held on hope. Hope that he would come back to himself. To her. Staying by his side for so long. Years. The length of her hair, the state of her withering body, a witness to her despair, her devotion. Even searching in small moments, so desperate to see just a glimmer. But he was gone.

If she hadn't already known she did now. Pulling her into his bed chambers. Pushing her onto the sheets. Halfway through thrusting hard into her he had laughed, "My pet, I've made a discovery." Hand coming to wrap around her throat. "In this new perfect form I can do something novel. You can give me something precious, I know you want that."

Leaning into her ear, sharp fingernails digging into flesh. "You can sire me an heir."

Terror shook her body at the thought. She had refused being his spawn, that measure of control free from her. Much to his attempts at persuasion, then bitter anger. Knew it was only a matter of time before his precious little patience broke. That he would take her mortality by force.

But a child... his child.

No. No it had to be tonight. She had no choice. Before it was too late.

Held her breath in silent prayer. Felt a phantom twitch in her belly. If it wasnt already too late.

She had been working in secret on an escape plan for months. In the few moments when he would let her be alone she formed her route. Working out every angle, every flaw that she could. It was a great effort as he loathed to have her out of his sight, his reach. His consort.

His pet.

Now as he laid finally still next to her, drugged by the slow acting paralytic in her blood, she reached weakly against her numb limbs. Fighting the heavy pull.

Her handmaid rushed into the room. Right on time, Gods bless her.

"Here," She urged quietly, pouring the antidote into her slack mouth. "Good job, there you go." She encouraged sweetly as she shallowly swallowed, gaining strength.

Shakily she rose, adrenaline already throttling her spine. Gripping her beloved face in her hands. "He'll kill you. Oh Gods, Madeline I'm so sorry." Overcome in gratitude, in grief. Pressing a desperate kiss into her soft lips. Their last, she knew.

The memory of them holding hands in the garden, the overhang of the canopy shading them from the world. Leaning her head into the gentle curl of her shoulder. The tender way she had pushed her hair behind her ear. A love so brief, so bright. So little time shared.

"I know," Her beautiful savior whispered, pressing their foreheads together briefly. "Now go. You have to go."

Choking back a sob she took fast to feet, grabbing the supplies she had hidden under her side of the bed. Forced herself not to look back.

Running down the hallway she knew her time was limited. It was a potent paralytic but he was so much stronger now, would overcome it much faster than a mortal man.

Hidden door. Thirty paces. Turn. She ducked into the servants side door, the shortcut. The dark cramped hallway rushing past her. Twisting and ducking under pipes. Slats of light striking her face in a blur.

Steps. Remember the steps.

Bursting from the hidden door she rushed through the empty ballroom out onto the balcony. Empty of guards, the rotation switch.

The night air mockingly peaceful. She gulped it in. Eyes already zeroed in on her next hurdle.

Throwing her pack over the edge. Shuddering at the time it took to hear its distant thud against the ground.

Only room enough for one long length of rope in her pack, she had one option.

Downing a feather fall potion she looked over the edge of the castle wall, trying not to let the dizzy height consume her. Her fear too much, she turned her back, her heels kissing the edge.

She caught a pulse of light high above her from an ornate window. A crash. Out of time.

Closing her eyes she stepped back into oblivion.

Falling. Falling.

How she had fell from the nautiloid ship. Both an escape. But the time she had a guardian to catch her was far behind her.

Back meeting ground, the wind knocked brute out of her. Even with the potion the fall had been too great. Felt a crack in her ribs.

No time for pain. She had to go.

Scrambling to feet she slung her pack over her back. Planting her feet and taking off like a shot. Bare feet scratching and angry against the underbrush.

"Provolo! " She cried with precious little breath. Could feel her feet move lighter, the momentum coming easier. Haste, another precious advantage.

The sound of rising voices from the castle walls behind her.

Fly forth.

Ducking and weaving around trees, over logs, she felt a tenuous joy start to rise in her chest. Oh Gods she might make it.

Bursting out of the treeline to the magnificent sound of the sea crashing angry below. The tree she had chosen was still here, her anchor.

She ran the rope around its base. So many lengths tied together, long enough to let her drop somewhat unscathed. Tying the knot, the one she had been practicing for weeks, against its ridged skin.

"Please hold." She whispered. Whipping the remaining length out, invisible over the side of the cliff.

Tying her meager possessions into a small bag tight around her waist. Pulling her long braid out of the way, looping loose around her throat. She rushed to the edge, vertigo making her stomach turn. No more potions. If she fell this was it.

Taking the rope in hands she planted her feet, her toes gripping the loose soil.

Gave herself a single moment to close her eyes, take a steadying breath in, out. Okay.

One step backwards, two. Dangling out over the edge. So far to fall. Three steps, four. Dangling. Feet planted against vertical soil. Hands releasing, lowering. Five steps, six. Between worlds, suspended in air.

A violent pull upwards.

Her eyes flashed up, terror gripping her.

A pale hand, fist white knuckled.

Red eyes above.

Eyes full of... fear? No it couldn't be.

Her heart slammed against her sternum. The desperation on his face crumpling her will.

Memories pummeled her. His hand trailing soft in her hair. Eyes bright with mirth as they fell laughing over eachother by the campfire, a stupid in-joke. His voice whispering sweetness into her neck as he gripped her, hips falling into her shivering body.

The pet name she had given him, the one he he insisted he hated, hands on hips. The little smile he couldn't hide as she drawled it at him.

"Starlight?" She asked breathlessly, eyes swimming heavy with tears.

His so wide, so soft again. Her love.

But then he was gone.

"Where do you think you're going," Other hand coming to pull. "Darling?" He hissed at her. Another handful of distance lost.

She rapidly released her grip, white hot pain against the tender flesh of her palms as she broke her descent. Ground gained but not nearly enough.

The smuggled boat waiting for her under the overhang of stone, she only had to make it to the mouth of the cave.

But she knew it was over. His strength was too great, she couldn't descend fast enough.

She would not be kept, he couldnt have her. Only one option.

She looked up into his eyes.

"I love you." Bitter tears burning her face. "I still love you."

"Please let me go."

He laughed, wrenching another length of rope towards his body. "And give up everything? Every gift you've given me?"

Eyes cutting into her. "Every gift you can still give me? No..." Almost face to face now.

"No, I dont think I will."

She was deeply afraid, but more than that, she was angry. Bright fury ripping through her chest. One hand relaxing it's grip.

Angry at everything she had lost. Angry at him for tricking her into thinking he knew his own heart.

Spiteful at every single piece of the life she had wanted with him, that his ambition had stolen. The beautiful thing they could have shared.

In her heart she let it all go.

"Goodbye Astarion."

His hand almost at her wrist, slipping away. "No!" He bellowed, lunging fruitlessly.

She closed her eyes as it all fell away. His wild eyes, the rope, the edge of the earth.

Tumbling through the air she went limp. It was finally over. His pet no more.

The air singing through her whipping hair.

It was done.

She was ready.

Now she just had to meet the water.

-

-

-

"Unghh..."

Far away. What was that? Gods, someone stop it. That sound.

She was so tired, just let her rest.

"Mmfhhh..."

Closer. Wasnt the afterlife supposed to be peaceful?

Was she not owed some Godsdamned peace?

"Uaaghh! " Her gurgling voice came to her all at once. Eyes shooting open.

Coughing great heaves of sea water, she rocked back and forth in the sand. Pinpricks of light in her eyes. Limbs rubber.

How. How had she survived?

From the state of her body she surmised she barely had. Broken, bloody, bruised.

And free.

She laughed wildly. He must think her dead.

Free.

Only time would tell if she had a new problem. Hand to her hunched belly. Gods above and below, spare her one more time.

Coughing and wretching she sat back on her haunches, exhaustion bone deep.

"Shadowheart!" She gasped, the plan suddenly coming back to her.

Sending a single folded letter with a servant, prayed it would reach to the Selunite outpost. Got a small book slipped under her door in return, a pressed night orchid in its pages.

She would be much earlier than she had estimated in her letter, but she knew that wonderful cleric would be waiting for her already. Not one to stand idle.

Pushing back with trembling arms. Rising on legs dead heavy. Heart lifted on high.

She began her long journey back to her life.

~

Part 2

[thequeenskeep]

Overthinking 🧠

Highway To Hell

Overthinking manifests as a result of suppression or a lack of forethought. When we are aware of something being wrong and ignore it, we push away valid thoughts and feelings; these can bubble up like a can of soda. Triggers are synonymous to shaking the can. Eventually, when an explosion ensues we are met with every thing we have suppressed up until this point. It can seem erratic and chaotic since we are experiencing everything simultaneously. The longer you have suppressed the more you have to process. This can lead to impulsively reckless decisions. When we invalidate ourselves through suppression and mental workshopping it becomes a habit making unpacking challenging. Oftentimes, we don't have the luxury of fully processing suppressed energy before being exposed to triggers (Mentos). Most people are not malicious; they do no intentionally hurt you. Like us they are unaware of themselves. In conflict there are no "bad guys". Perspective is everything and we are focused on our own.

Unpacking. If you've reached the point of an explosion, the best thing to do is feel it. Allow the tears to fall and let your mind race. Remember we are feeling everything from ground zero. Things we feel we've "gotten over" will be present. They are reappearing to draw our attention to an action that needs to take place. As we allow ourselves to fall down the rabbit hole, we will gain new information that will fall together like puzzle pieces forming the solution. Moments where we or the other party directly or indirectly harmed us will appear further reinforcing the impact.

Eventually, we will be left with an “empty” vessel full of our purified, concentrated energy. It is up to us to identify the tools and supplies necessary to clean the mess. Remember, you are your own separate person outside of the connection with your own thoughts, feelings, and perspective. You are not bad for being so.

Truthfully, I have little experience with preventative measures as this is something I am learning as well. However, the best advice I can give is learn from your experiences. Once you've cleaned the mess think of ways you can release pressure. If something bothers you and you are unable to communicate or correct it, spend time with it. Meditation is a nonnegotiable. Meditation has never been about silencing your mind. Silencing yourself in privacy is a form of self harm (suppression). Allow your mind and emotions to speak to you. As your energies intermingle, you will reach a divine awareness. This is a skill that takes time, practice, and patience. If there's one thing I've learned in my spiritual journey it’s that you're going to mess up A LOT. You are going to disappoint and betray yourself. You are a child; adulthood is a skill built by experience. We must deprogram our brains to reprogram it with new information. Be gentle with yourself, listen to yourself, nurture yourself. You're gonna need it.

[aihoshiino]

Random I know 😭 but what do you think about Kana's development as a character post-Tokyo Blade ? Lately I’ve been seeing takes like ”Kana doesn’t work for anything or she revolves around Aqua," which is, in my opinion, false. Although I do think Kana does have a bad emotional dependency on him to a degree. Also, I’ve seen people claim she’s the worst-written character when RUBY is right there (jk I like Ruby I blame Aka for her wasted potential).

Also, any tips on writing an analysis of a character?? 😓

I responded to an ask a liddol while ago where I more or less answered this too just in the process of walking through my thoughts there. The tl;dr is that while Kana definitely revolves around the love triangle and Aqua by extension more than I would necessarily like her to, it's flatly disingenuous to act as though this is an issue unique to her or that Ruby doesn't have it worse in a post-BH world.

Honestly, this line of ''''''critique'''''' generally comes from people who are arguing in bad faith because they already have a subjective dislike for Kana and are reverse-engineering reasons to legitimize their feelings and cast them as objective observations. I have zero patience for it (and anyone who does the same for any of the other girls, for that matter)

As for advice... this will probably be frustrating to hear but uh, this is genuinely just how my brain works by default and I don't know that I could explain how I do it LMAO. I'm sure there's good texts to read about literary analysis and stuff but my brain has just been kind of cooked like this since I was 8. I Was A Lot Of Fun A Parties As A Child, As You Can Imagine.