#korra is drunk

[kamekomikan]

"i love youuuuu~ 💕"

#korra is drunk #asami 3 phần bất lực 7 phần nuông chiều #korrasami #korra #asami #legend of korra #asami x korra #fan art #bisexual

[wilcze-kudly]

I know everyone's been saying that Wuko and Korrasami would be peak MLM WLW solidarity but personally i think Weilin would be better suited for the role.

Think about it.

buff powerhouse herbo and her badass rich girlfriend 🤝 buff powerhouse himbo and his badass rich boyfriend

#korra and bolin drunk on champagne at a party and causing chaos while wei and asami sip red wine from fancy glasses and watch in endearment #weilin #wei x bolin #bolin x wei #wei beifong #bolin #korrasami #korra x asami #asami x korra #asami sato #korra #avatar korra #legend of korra

[bidotorg]

Do you know the #bilarious Aubrey Plaza?

#lgbt #queer #bi #bisexuality #lgbtq #lgbtqia #bi pride #bi visibility #representationmatters #bivisibility #aubrey plaza #parks and rec #little demon #emily the criminal #scott pilgrim #white lotus #criminal minds #happiest season #drunk history #childs play #ingrid goes west #the little hours #dirty grandpa #grumpy cat #legend of korra #portlandia #deadpan #scott pilgram vs the world #bisexual women #bisexual wlw

[cage-cat-yt]

Art spree (I drew DG 3 times today sorry 😔)

Ok but also happy bi visibility day, shout out of band mother Ava, but also like stay safe guys you deserve only the best !

Also I will be honest I want to draw Teen!DG now but I feel like I shouldn't 😭 I need to work on the fanfic or something

But yeah anyway watching nightmare before Christmas cause I love it, might draw Jack Skellington actually (or Jack Walten? Maybe Spamton lol)

Anyway, thanks for reading! Remember to hydrate and I hope you have a good day :)

#cage-cat #tf2 #deltarune #the living tombstone #spamton #legend of korra #steven universe #blood in the bayou #jjba #spider verse #pokemon #josef and sauer #dio brando #minora Takashi #wiw guy #drunk guy tlt #DrunkMusic [TLT SHIP] #tf2 scout #tf2 spy #tf2 demoman #bitb rand #zorua #su peridot #hobie brown #pavitr prabhakar #hit the snooze girl #rust tlt #Aziraphale 'Azi' Vega #Saro Margossian #bi visibility day

[shehungthemoon]

Sorry if I'm the Avatar and Im choosing to prize bending prowess and ohysicality and I had a chouce bwteen this mf twink that spits fire that lightly roasts s'mores and has no personality and actively despises me, and this 270 muscle daddy that could lift me x 20 and is one of the best fucking earth benders i've ever seen bodying bitches left and right like a fucking terminator who'd marry me on the spot and tells me im perfect and means it every two seconds, like bitch you know who im choosin

What I mean to fucking say is dear fucking god im glad she was a lesbian in the end bc she'd be giving every straight girl out there a bad name if otherwise

#like u know which one can eat pussy better too #legend of korra #avatar the last airbender #avatar korra #borra #the legend of korra #makorra #makolin #mako #bolin #THIS POST HAS BEEN IN MY DRAFTS FOREVER AND I SWEAR I WASNT DRUNK WHEN I WROTE IT BUT IT SURE FEELS LIKE I WAS REREADING THIS #POSTING THIS TO GET LOK OFF MY CHEST OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD #lok #atla

[krekee]

could you please draw some art of suyin (tlok) you don’t have too but i just really love your artstyle ❤️

🥺 tysm!!!

Here's a laughing suyin for you 🫶

let me know if you wanted something specific

#suyin beifong #legend of korra #tlok #ask #one day i will learn how to draw smiles #but not today #lol #i added circles cause it looked boring and now she looks drunk #...

[tomdoesdrawings]

#sketch #drawing #doodle #art #pen sketch #pen drawing #spidey #spider man #tenzin #avatar korra #avatar #me #its me bitch #drunk #playing with pens

[imtiredpleasejustgoaway]

seriously Netflix wth, I don't want to get up from the couch to tell you that, yes, indeed, i AM still rotting on my couch and don't want to get up to click on the "continue playing" butten for the tenth time today 😒😒

#avatar the last airbender #for you #netflix #are you still watching #couch rotting #couch potato #ive drunk two mango soda floats #my stomach hates me #i love ice cream #the legend of korra #we love mako tho #ive watched like #over theee seasons of tlok today #i got to skip school 🥰🥰 #fr gonna regret that though

[angelltheninth]

Becoming Unbroken

Pairing: Korra x Asami Sato

Tags: smut, nsfw, sneaking away, grinding, against the wall sex, first time (for Korra), kissing, hickyes, old injuries acting up, mentioned half-paralysis, hurt/comfort

Word count: 1.4k

Ao3

A/N: I really hope that Korrasami- eh, Legend of Korra movie is still coming out because damn I need more of them.

Thank Raava that Zhu Li's presidential announcement went by without a hitch. With tensions still brewing between the Spirit world and humans everyone could use a bit of downtime, and honestly Korra and Asami might have just gotten back from their vacation but they were already tired again. They managed to sneak away from the main party after some complimentary statements, allowing the two lovers some needed alone time.

“I need a vacation, another one.” Korra groaned as she stretched her arms above her head, groaning at the stretch of her muscles and not at all oblivious to the way Asami stared at them so openly.

“I don’t think we can do that so soon. But maybe next year. I could take you to the beach next time.” She said trying not to be too excited about the idea of seeing all of Korra’s muscles on full display, under the Sun, sweating… now she was sweating. Honestly dating Korra would be the death of Asami Sato for sure. “Or we could visit the Fire Nation for the festival. I haven’t been to a festival in a while.”

"Mmm, festivals sound like a good time. Honestly anything would be a good time with you Asami."

"Anything?" Asami smirked but Korra didn't quite catch it, only walked a bit more in front of her to have the space to gesture with her arms. Waterbenders.

"Yeah, we could go to the festival, the maybe Zaofu, see the Oasis again, then take a trip back to-" Asami's kiss interrupted her mid-talk but why would she complain. The worlds softest lips were on her own so Korra had to kiss back, she had to pull Asami into a hug and try not to notice how soft she was in other places. "Or we could... kiss... a lot... and... and... what was I talking about?"

How was it possible for the most powerful person in the world to be that cute?

"A vacation. But I think it can wait a bit." Asami leaned in close, catching Korra glancing back at her lips and the bit of red lipstick that smudged, "Right now I want to be in the moment with you." In the moment where Korra kissed her again, where Asami ran her hands up those muscular arms, smaller than before but Korra was slowly building her previous muscle mass up. Something that Asami appreciated a lot, especially because Korra could now lift her up so easily and spin her around at every reunion kiss.

Or she could pin her to the wall. That works too. With the party still in full swing neither needed to hold back the sounds they drew from each other. Korra’s hands ran over the soft, smooth material of Asami’s dress while she moved her head a tiny bit to deepen the kiss, the two drunk of each other rather then the drinks they had before. They still tasted of them though, so sweet.

“Can I get closer?” Korra asked with her eyes half-hooded her hands bunching up Asami’s red dress to reveal more of her soft, irresistible thighs.

“You don’t even have to ask me that.” How many times did Asami imagine, no dream of this exact thing, making out with Korra, cupping her strong jaw and feeling every warm breath the Avatar exhaled against her lips. “You can always touch me Korra.” She wanted to be touched by Korra for years. The amount of horny dreams she’s had was probably more then she had about any other person she was ever attracted to before. “Can I touch you too?”

"I'll go crazy if you don't." Korra responded with an equal if not grater amount of desire. The Avatar's lips attacked Asami's neck.

"You can leave marks." Attention was thrown Asami's way no matter where she went, it was her name, her reputation, her looks, her money, name it and she's experianced all those reasons for flirting. The cold stone of the building pressed against Asami's naked back, Korra's warm body to her front, warmer lips on her neck, gasping when Asami slipped her thigh between Korra's legs.

It wasn't hard to guess how much Korra wanted this by the way she now fully pressed Asami against the wall, hands on her girlfriend's hips, keeping her still as she kissed her neck, rolled her hips against that godly thigh. Asami could probably feel how wet she was, even through her clothes. It felt wonderful to feel that tingly sensation between her legs again. Korra wanted to chase it to the very end, encouraged by Asami's breathy moans in her ear.

"Fuck, I- Asami, I-" She moaned against Asami's neck, shivering when she felt the rough pads of Asami's fingers smoothing over her neck and face and pushing it back to make eye contact.

"It's okay Korra." Was it? To get off like this? Here and now? Yes, Asami wanted her to, Korra wanted to, she wanted to come, she wanted to feel pleasure again.

Pleasure that made her whole body shake against Asami's, it made her hips buck, her pants flood with wetness and her breath stop in her lungs. Then came the pain, shooting from her spine to her legs and making her stifle a cry, but just barely as she collapsed against Asami's body.

"I can't feel my legs." Korra still struggled to catch her breath when Asami wrapped her up in a hug.

"That good was it?" And she didn't even do that much. Korra was gonna lose her mind once Asami got serious.

"No. Well, it was but... I literally can't feel my legs." That was the moment every shred of joy or pleasure drained from Asami's face. She took in Korra's posture, cramped and defensive, clinging onto Asami's hips, her face hidden away in Asami's shoulder, her breathing fast and scared.

Asami looked around to see if there was anyone who could help them but the two were still completely alone, "I can go get help."

"Don't. Please just stay here, give me a minute." The last thing Asami wanted was to upset Korra more when she was already so vulnerable. "O-Okay. I think it's starting to come back. Damn it! I thought I could handle it now!"

"Handle what?"

"When... when I was recovering I couldn't feel anything past my hips. Except for pain." Korra confessed with only a bit of shame.

Asami took a few seconds to process that and connect it to what just happened, "Are you saying that was your first orgasm in three years?"

"Yeah. I tried but... it never worked. I didn't think I'd ever be able to... but now I did and I think the sudden shock might have been a little too much." Korra leaned back a little and massaged her legs, sighing in relief when she was able to feel every touch, "I need to get used to it again that's all. It took so long to get back into walking and bending again after all that. I'll be fine, my body just needs some time."

"And I'll be happy to help." Asami didn't mean for that to sound as seductive as it did but her whispering sure didn't help any. "Once you're okay with it I mean."

"Oh I'm sure you're very eager to help the Avatar, Miss Sato." Good to know Korra still had her humor. "I never thought this would happen from this. Bending yeah but... Spirits I'm a little embaressed now."

"Don't be." Asami pressed soft kiss on Korra's forehead and pulled the Avatar almost into her lap, "There's nothing shameful about healing. Even if you couldn't do that anymore I'd still love you. It's not all about sex Korra."

Korra's face burned once again but this time she didn't hide it away, "I know that. But I want to make up for those three years. Most of the time I... you know... I thought about you."

This was entirely new information to Asami. She grinned like an owlcat that caught a koi fish, "Yeah? I'd love to know what you thought about. If you tell me yours I'll tell you mine." It was a relief to hear that Asami thought about her too.

"Deal. But let's stay here for a bit more. Cuddling was also included." Korra snuggled up as close as she could, her head against Asami's chest, listening to her heartbeat. To think that she was so lucky to get to hear it for the rest of her life, no matter how long or short that may be.

#legend of korra #avatar korra #asami sato #korrasami #tlok #tlok fanfic

[fanficsiwillneverwrite]

On my umpteenth rewatch of lok, I had a sudden interest in old Zuko…. And let’s just say another wip is brewing in my brain now about Zuko and his involvement in book 3 :/

Zuko looks in the mirror and sees only a face he no longer recognizes: old, long past its prime. An old wound haunting him, even how many years later. It happened so long ago; only yesterday. Shaky hands rub the rough skin as the memory takes hold. It was for the better, he once told himself long ago. It led him on the path of good, toward the light. But the thought of giving such a punishment to Izumi… He admittedly was not perfect when it came to raising her, but he was no Ozai.

Through the reflection, he sees Akari, the Firelord’s senior aide, emerge from the golden doors. “Lord Zuko,” she says with a respectful and low bow. Her voice is distant, muffled, despite being so near. Just a reminder of his aging body. “The Firelord will see you now.”

He nods, acknowledging her, but his focus remains on the stranger–no, the old man–staring back at him, copying every move he makes. Akari backs away to give him space. And he touches a few wrinkles. Uncle always said they were a sign of living, far better than the alternative. His laughter still echoes in his mind; the steam of hot tea still lingers around him.

He moves away from his reflection and into the throne room where his daughter sits high above him in all her glory. Zuko smiles as he bows–and his old bones crack as he bends. Another reminder that the old man in the mirror and the boy who thought his destiny was to capture the Avatar were one in the same. “The Firelord has requested an audience with me. I would be interested in knowing what for.”

“Hello Dad,” greets Izumi gently as she stands. She approaches him, a familiar look of care mixed with concern permanently captures her face each time she looks at him. He knows it well. Old age brings on pity. No, Uncle would say, old age brings on care. They hug and, suddenly, he is drunk with the scent of familiarity. Once Mai’s favorite perfume worn now by a grieving daughter who wants only to keep her mother close. “How are you?”

“I am fine, daughter,” he assures, his hand squeezing her shoulder as if to emphasize the fact. Sadness lingers around them with Mai’s passing just over a year ago. “Though, perhaps it is I who should be asking you that very question. Avatar Korra has led us into a new age where spirits and mankind must now live together in harmony. As the Firelord, it is your duty to make her decision a reality. With some guidance from me, of course, if it doesn’t interfere with my nap time.”

She rolls her eyes as a smile forms. “I think sometimes I can make better sense of your snoring than your political babble,” she teases.

“Be careful what you say next, daughter,” he shoots back. “I still have claim to the throne, you know.”

“Like I’d give it back,” she tells him playfully. But her face turns serious. And like a stuck bandage, the news of why she has summoned him is ripped open quickly to ease the anticipation: “I’ve just received word from President Raiko in Republic City. It seems… Harmonic Convergence has brought back the Airbenders.”

His heart feels as if it has sunk. The Fire Nation’s greatest burden, their deepest regret—now, so suddenly, fixed? He would have to see it to believe it, especially if Raiko is the one reporting it. All the man cares about is the votes. “What?”

“I haven’t yet received word from Tenzin, but there has been at least one Airbender sighting in Caldera alone. Most, it seems, are in the Earth Kingdom.”

“That could mean trouble.”

The Earth Queen remains bitter over land now the United Republic of Nations and everything surrounding it, Air Temple Island included: Earth Kingdom territory, she makes false claims. While her father was timid, mostly oblivious as a leader, Hou-Ting is loud, demanding, and a complete tyrant.

Zuko turns, hurrying out the room. There is no time to waste. “I’ll head straight to Ba Sing Se—”

His daughter is quick to stop him. “The Fire Nation should not have any involvement there, dad. You know this.” His intent would be to liberate this new wave of Airbenders from the grasps of great tyrannical power, but the world might view it as another Firelord’s attempt to again dismantle the Air Nation. He blinks, seeing clearly now as his daughter faces him again. “Furthermore,” Izumi continues cautiously; they’re always dancing around his state of retirement. The nation is hers–it is her birthright–but he makes diplomatic trips around the world to assure peace, to continue what he and Avatar Aang started so long ago, yesterday. “A man your age should really be fretting over pai sho and gardening. Not the state of the world.”

The man she is describing is Uncle. Not him, never him. “I will not turn my back on the world when it still needs me,” Zuko insists. His reflection shows an achy old man with a story long ago completed, but as long as his heart still beats and the fire still burns, he can be useful.

“I know,” she says, “but… you can only do so much before it becomes too overwhelming for you.” She adjusts her glasses as a sigh escapes her. “Dad, I care only for your safety–”

“I am still capable–”

“–which is why I think it perfectly sensible for you to take in a ward.”

He stops, hurt–offended. “A-a ward?”

“One of Master Muromachi’s young pupils,” she continues. “Someone who can be your companion. Someone who will watch your back and defend you when you’re unable.”

Zuko huffs, rubbing his forehead in frustration. His daughter thinks him unable, an invalid of his craft now just because of a few wrinkles. Spirits! He is Lord Zuko, Leader of the Fire Nation and the Avatar’s Firebending Master. And she thinks he needs a sidekick? Some noble boy defending his honor? “No, absolutely not. I don’t need some child protecting me.”

Izumi rolls her eyes. “This isn’t a suggestion, dad. Master Muromachi is expecting you. We’ll go down there this afternoon.”

He stomps away stubbornly, like a child not getting his way. The roles were reversed long ago, just yesterday when he was still in charge, when he was still capable. “I can choose my own ward, can’t I?”

“Of course–”

“Then I’ll go on my own, if it pleases the Firelord.”

He exits before she can answer. Anger boils within him. He hates being the man who is old, the man who needs help. Most of his friends are gone now and this new generation is perfectly competent, his daughter being one of them, but the fire still burns inside him. The face in the mirror is the face he saw long ago–yesterday–when there was no scar.

The Fire Nation Academy for Gifted Boys is a secondary school for sons of nobles. It teaches Nonbenders how to fight through the art of swordsmanship. Only the best, or most wealthy, can attend. And the training is rigorous, not for the faint hearted. Tom-Tom became one of the academy’s pupils when he came of age, mastering sword fighting at the age of fourteen. Firelord Ozai always dismissed the school’s teachings, saying Nonbenders could never truly be masters without the ability of bending. In his final years, without his bending, his father learned the way of the sword, though he never tried to understand the relationship between a man and his blade, thus never becoming a full master of the craft.

These days the school is just as rigorous with Master Muromachi, a stern and, dare he say, cruel man, in charge of this new generation of fighters. The boys stand straight in a line when Lord Zuko arrives. Eyes forward, not one hair out of place, not a single crease in their suits. Their movements are in sync as they all bow low when Muromachi introduces him to them.

“You have honored this school with your presence, Lord Zuko,” Muromachi says with a bow of his own. He moves aside for Zuko to properly examine his students. “Please, choose anyone you think is worthy.” He gestures to the tallest of the group: tan skinned and golden eyed, Zuko sees a darkness in him that brings only suspicion. The way the boy eyes him; it’s not like the others. “Eigo here is our star pupil.”

“Is that so?”

Muromachi gestures again and Eigo assumes a fighting stance as he draws his sword. He dances with it around Zuko–impressive but, still, there is something about him that he doesn’t quite like–before returning to his spot in line.

“Very good,” Zuko tells him, “though I find your lack of moderation rather… unsettling.”

The boy’s expression darkens at the criticism. Not suitable for his company at all. Muromachi moves on without a visible reaction: “Pao,” he calls. And the next boy moves skillfully around the room with his blades. A mindless routine, practiced over and over again until perfection. He does what he is told and nothing more.

“Your moves, though highly skillful, lack originality,” Zuko notes. He will find something wrong for each of them. He does not need a protector, nor does he want one.

Muromachi becomes more tense as they move down the line, each boy weaker than the last. This Academy is a show and these so-called warriors are nothing more than performers this day in age, not like how they used to be, he will tell his daughter later over tea. That is why he did not choose a child today. That is why he should not have a ward.

Finally, they arrive at the last: the smallest of the group. A softness exists within him that the other boys do not have. Short hair above his ears cut in a wonky bowl shape and fierce blue eyes with a sparkle in them that shows he is ready, not to win but to fight for what is right—he knows those eyes. It hits him, suddenly. A girl, disguised as a young boy.

“Lee!” orders Muromachi, sweating profusely at this point. Zuko instantly understands the name is false, an alias to hide her true nature.

And the girl disguised as a boy begins her dance around Zuko. Her movements are hesitant. She nearly trips over her own two feet. Her two swords do not move together as one but rather as completely separate entities. An amateur compared to her peers. Muromachi is visibly appalled by her performance, but remains silent out of respect for his guest. Zuko, admittedly, is intrigued by the girl. Why would she openly go through such turmoil?

#zuko #prince zuko #lord Zuko #old zuko #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #legend of korra #lok #lok fanfic #atla #avatar the last airbender #also like I’m sorry for all the wips I’m pumping out but life is just up and down right now so

[thecuriousquest]

Blind Dates and DILFS

Ask: Based on the legend of korra, can you write a oneshot featuring Tonraq and a woman reader with public nudity and chastity please? In the fic, Tonraq invites the reader out on a date through the city. As a twist, both of them would be butt naked with the reader having a chastity on. Tonraq would wear the key to her belt around his neck. You can decide on the intimate acts between the two during their date. What do you think?

@xxx-princeasimdiya12

Soft Yandere Tonraq x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Dominance, submission, chastity belt, public nudity, sex

Modern setting in a city.

Checkout my Master List here.

————————————————————————

You can’t help it. You are astonishingly attracted to the sheer dominance radiating off of Tonraq. Able to tell it’s a match made in heaven, you take his hand and walk with him towards the restaurant he insisted on taking you to.

It’s a fancy place, and you can’t help but blush at how he treats you so wonderfully. Engaging in small talk is somehow easy despite your nerves. The way he holds your hand, brushing his thumb over the back of it while he looks into your eyes so intently, listening to you voice your opinions on the city’s new developments and what you think of adding three coffee shops to the same block.

“On one hand, it does seem like a bit of a waste of space, but at least it’s providing jobs to people,” you tell him with a smile.

“Your empathy is refreshing, Y/N,” he tells you with a gentle look on his face as a blush creeps across yours.

“I wanted to know if you’re willing to do something for me? It’s a little…out of the ordinary.”

Curious as a cat, you wonder what it could be that he wants. “Um, yeah, sure. What is it?”

“Take off your panties and give them to me.”

Your jaw opens a tad bit as it goes slack from his words processing. “We’re in public,” is all you can think to respond with. “What if someone sees?”

“What if someone sees? What are they going to do about it?” His smile is playful, and it coaxes you into being wrapped around his finger.

Fingers brush up under your dress. You don’t know why, but you find yourself drunk on his words, falling deeper into a state of bliss as you find the waistband of your black thong. Excitement stirs in your belly while you drag the lacy fabric down your smooth legs. You can’t help but blush, never having done anything like this before in public. You can’t tell if you’re steaming with shame or lust as you ball them up in your hand and give them over to Tonraq.

He takes them from you and opens his fingers. He chuckles. “Black thong, never would have guessed. You seem more like the cute cotton panties type.” He tucks your underwear into his jacket pocket. “You know, you’re so adorable when you blush. I think red is a color that looks best on your skin.”

Unable to think of anything to say, “I…oh- um…” Is your elegant response.

———

After dinner…that’s were things get even more interesting. This man who started out as a bundle of kindness and chivalry becomes a force of nature. He presses you up against his car, trapping you in between his arms. He leans in, but doesn’t move to kiss you. Not yet. His breath is hot on your neck, nose caressing the soft flesh.

“You have no idea what I’ve wanted to do to you all night.”

Biting your lip, lust sings deep within your aching womb at a vicious frequency. You want nothing more than to wrap your legs around his waist and have him take you right up against the car.

You hesitate. “Why don’t you enlighten me?”

Showing instead of telling, he pulls at your skirt. You cry out in embarrassment, your hands shooting straight to his wrists to thwart him. His laugh is sardonic as he catches your wrists with one hand. He uses his free one to continue tugging down your skirt.

“What if someone sees?” You ask, sweat coating your forehead.

He gives you the same response he did at dinner. “So what if someone does?”

You gasp, feeling the fabric pool around your ankles. He orders you to step out of them.

“Are you going to be a good girl if I let go of your hands?” Tonraq questions.

“I…I’ll be good,” you tell him, silently pleading that nobody happens by on the dark street he parked on.

Releasing your wrists, he relieves you of your top and bra. Your breasts bounce as he gives them a sharp slap. His fingers run along your hard nipples.

You aren’t sure what to make of the situation, but you sure as hell aren’t refusing it. It’s exciting, a sexual adventure.

Finally, he presses his lips against yours. If someone were to walk by, you wouldn’t give a fuck in this beautiful moment you’re sharing with the handsome Tonraq. He feels you, getting to know your body, becoming so familiar with your curves and cunt.

Everything about this man makes you feel safe. You feel protected yet ravished in his arms. He’s making you feel like you’re the only woman he wants out of the entire female population. You’ve never met anyone like him.

“Let’s get you back to my place. I have a little surprise for you,” Tonraq whispers in your ear.

———

On your knees before him in front of a fireplace, he adjusts some type of harness that makes your sex inaccessible. You don’t know what it is. It feels odd, cold against your wet clit. What you find even more odd is that there’s a lock on the front.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as he finishes locking the harness into place with a key on a necklace. He puts the key around his neck and approaches you. Tonraq caresses your cheek with the back of his fingers.

“Why don’t you open that pretty mouth of yours for me?”

Unable to resist, you part your lips, giving them a slight lick. He sticks two of his fingers in your mouth, gathering your saliva on his tips. He moans at the feeling as he orders you to suck on them.

Nobody has ever done something like this to you: made you take your clothes off in public and put a chastity belt on you as he called it. It was foreign, yet he made it all okay.

“Does it bother you that you can’t touch yourself? Don’t worry. There are other ways to sexually stimulate you, and if you’re good for me, I might just take it off and fuck you until you don’t even know your own name.”

“Please,” you try to say, but it comes out muffled due to his fingers in your mouth.

You notice him starting to undress himself. Where your clothes are still on some street in the city, his lie in a pile right next to your knees. First goes his shirt, then his pants and boxers until he’s wearing nothing but the key to your chastity belt.

“Now, put that pretty mouth of yours to good use,” he commands with his horse cock freely staring you in the face.

It. Is. So. Big.

You’re intimidated by the length and girth that belongs to him as you take it in your mouth. Relaxing your throat, you steadily take him. He moans with satisfaction as your head bobs against his long dick. Your knees begin to ache, put you push those thoughts from your mind as you work on satiating his hunger.

He gently grabs your hair and helps you move at a faster pace. You grab his hips to steady yourself, and you both work as a team until he has reached his climax. His seed rushes down your throat like a waterfall. When he pulls himself from your lips, a bit of the white, hot liquid trails from the corner of your mouth and down your chin. He smirks and wipes it away with the pad of his thumb.

You shift on your knees, needing some kind of friction on your slick pussy. You’re dripping with the need for him to bend you over and take you. The belt makes it hard for you to find any sexual relief, and he notices.

“It won’t work. The only way you’re going to find any relief for that tight cunt is through me.” Tonraq pinches your nipples, giving them a flick. “Beg me. Beg me for relief.”

Whimpering, you do as he directs. “Please, take it off and fuck me. I want you deep inside of me. Please, I want relief. I’ll do anything. I’ve been good, and I’ll be even better. I’ll be so good for you.” You reach out and grab his hand, hoping he’ll understand even more how passionate you are. “I just want you. I need you. You’re the only one who can give me what I need. Please? Help me?” Your lip pokes out in such a cute way, and he can’t resist.

He takes off your chastity belt with his key and lifts you up. Your legs wrap around his hips as he takes you to his bed for the best sex of your life.

#legend of korra #tonraq #legend of korra tonraq #legend of korra imagine #Tonraq x reader #yandere tonraq

[thatoneguy56fanfic]

Inspired by this awesome post I decided to try my own version!

Excerpts from The White Lotus Avatar Guide Book (Unofficial)

Or updated protocol concerning Avatar Korra.

1. Get used to the nicknames.

1.1. Avatar Korra does occasionally give multiple nicknames to the same person.

1.2. If you value your life, DO NOT ever call Chief Lin Beifong “Chief Cranky Pants”.

1.3. Avatar Korra is the only one allowed to call General Kuvira “General Eyebrows.”

1.4. Detective Mako asks that you no longer call him “Sharkbrows” no matter how much Avatar Korra does it.

1.5. Please only address Avatar Korra as “Korra”, “Avatar”, or “Avatar Korra” instead of whatever nicknames she tries giving herself.

1.6. No, we cannot address Avatar Korra as “The Most Badass Avatar Who Ever Lived.” Avatar Kyoshi still holds that title.

2. Please try to limit Naga’s treats to only per person.

2.1. Do not try to take away any of Naga’s toys/bones.

2.2. If you have recommendations on how to remove polar-bear-dog hair from clothes please contact the Grand Lotus.

2.3. Naga is permitted at least one hour of play time every day.

3. If you cannot find Avatar Korra search all nearby rooftops. Seaside cliffs and mountains are a good choice as well.

3.1. Checking Avatar Aang Memorial Island is also recommended.

3.2. If she still isn’t found, try asking Master Katara.

3.3. On further consideration, do not ask Master Katara. She can and will mislead you for amusement.

3.4. So will Meelo, Ikki, Rohan, and Jinora.

3.5. Detective Mako and Asami Sato will as well. Bolin most likely doesn’t know where she is, but will insist he does.

3.6. Naga is the best choice. She can track.

3.7. If Naga cannot be found either, contact Chief Tonraq or Senna. Or Master Tenzin.

3.8. If she still cannot be found, contact General Kuvira.

4. DO NOT GIVE AVATAR KORRA CATCUS JUICE.

4.1. Please do not challenge Avatar Korra with dares. She will do them.

4.2. Please do not participate in any drinking games with Avatar Korra. She will win.

4.3. DO NOT GIVE AVATAR KORRA CATCUS JUICE.

4.4. If Avatar Korra goes out in public while drunk, please contact her publicist. Master Tenzin has the number.

4.5. Drunk Avatar Korra can be persuaded to come home by mentioning Naga, or food.

4.6. If that fails call General Kuvira.

4.7. DO NOT GIVE AVATAR KORRA CATCUS JUICE.

4.8. On the rare chance that Avatar Korra gets her hands on cactus juice, please notify the local authorities. As well as General Kuvira, and the Avatar’s publicist.

4.9. After the last incident we’d like to remind everyone NOT to encourage drunk Avatar Korra to go streaking.

5. Under NO circumstances is Avatar Korra allowed to drive any vehicle.

5.1. President Zhu Li banned Avatar Korra from ever getting a driver’s license. Do not believe her if she tries to convince you otherwise.

5.2. Chief Lin Beifong herself promised to arrest anyone who helps Avatar Korra drive.

5.3. After the incident in Ba Sing Se, King Wu has permanently banned Korra from ever having a driver’s license.

5.4. Do not believe Asami Sato when she says she has “special permission” to teach Avatar Korra how to drive.

6. Do not try to interrupt Avatar Korra and Chief Tonraq while they’re listening to Pro-bending on the radio.

6.1. Please don’t encourage Avatar Korra to gamble on Pro-bending matches.

6.2. Please don’t encourage Chief Tonraq to gamble on Pro-bending matches.

7. For the last time, we are not allowed in Avatar Korra’s family home.

7.1. Please do not try to interrupt Avatar Korra’s time with her parents. It will not end well.

7.2. For the love of Agni, DO NOT try to interrupt Avatar Korra’s alone time with General Kuvira.

8. No, Avatar Korra will never stop saying “I’m the Avatar and you have to deal with it.”

8.1. Avatar Korra is also very fond of terrible puns and “dad” jokes.

8.2. Please do not tell Avatar Korra sex jokes. She’ll never stop repeating them.

8.3. Also don’t ask for sex stories unless you’re prepared to hear them.

9. The Avatar Fund is NOT to be used for Avatar Korra’s personal investments.

9.1. After the Varriwash incident, we’d like to remind everyone to carefully screen Avatar Korra’s mail for scams.

10. Avatar Korra would appreciate it if you didn’t mention her PTSD publicly.

10.1. Talking about Avatar Korra to ANY newspaper, radio show, or magazine will result in immediate termination.

#legend of korra #korra #this was so much fun #korvira #kuvira

[risingsoleil]

Hiii, so I saw you’re taking Linzin requests sooooo

What about drunk teenage linzin at a party😇. (ill leave the rest up to you hahah.)

Hello anon! Thank you so much for the request and also your patience!

I hope you enjoy this piece ^^;;;

I've received all the other requests and I'm trying to work on them (plus brainstorming a few hehe) It may take me some time to tackle them with my work schedule, but I am still active in the Linzin fandom ❤️

#linzin #request #lin beifong #tenzin #tlok #fanfic

[coquelicoq]

my ideal makorrasami imagines are always like

asami comes home to her girlfriend and boyfriend after a long day of being a genius engineer and fortune 500 ceo

she picks up bolin on the way because it's mako's birthday so they're having a little get-together

they head to the pool because that's usually where korra can be found when the weather is super warm, and obviously mako will be there too keeping her company

she and bolin hear raised voices as they approach. omg the girlfriend and boyfriend are fightinggggg

it's a very sophisticated argument. they're just saying, over and over, "nuh-uh!" "uh-huh!" "NUH-UH!" "YEAH-HUH!"

asami and bolin round the corner to see korra and mako glaring at each other, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy, absolutely drunk off their gourd

asami's just like "pregaming, are we? i hope you left some alcohol for the rest of us" and raises one devastating eyebrow

korra and mako turn to her and their faces light up immediately. "asami!! you're here!!!"

(the eyebrow does nothing to dampen their enthusiasm, which is fine, because they're very endearing drunks and she is very much enjoying this)

then they turn back to each other and are like "SHE'LL agree with me. THEN you'll see. i'm right and you're wrong. you're the wrongest forever and ever. no YOU are" etc. etc.

this of course quickly devolves into good ol rough and tumble rasslin

bolin's like "ooh ooh ooh! what are we talking about? i love being part of conversations! i want to have an opinion!!!"

by which point korra has mako in a headlock and they turn in tandem to look at asami (bolin's input is not required) and very earnestly ask her who the best kisser is

they're looking at her so expectantly and korra has forgotten about the headlock so now they're just hugging as they wait with baited breath for asami's verdict

and asami's like oh well uh guys i can't really...that's not...apples oranges et cetera, you're both extremely good kissers, really top notch, full marks for everyone, i uh always love any sort of kissing that we get to do, um, together,

just digging herself into this awkward hole, right. because no one expects that question

mako's mouth drops open. "woah," he says

"yeah," says korra

as one, their heads swivel toward each other

"the BEST kisser...is ASAMI!!!!!" they say in unison

they stare into each other's eyes for a beat

suddenly their mouths are colliding as they LAUNCH themselves toward each other and begin making out frantically and with great fervor

occasionally coming up for air to say such things as "you're so smart" "no YOU" "no ASAMI is" "asami's the smartest" "i love asami" "she's the best ever for always" amidst the most embarrassingly sloppy kissing known to man

bolin's like "soooo. just to make sure i'm getting this straight"

asami: uh-huh

bolin: the reason korra and my brother are kissing in front of us so enthusiastically...

asami: yeah

bolin: ...is because they are in SUCH complete agreement...

asami: right

bolin: ...that YOU are good at kissing?

asami: that appears to be the case, yes

asami can hear bolin facepalm somewhere off to the side, but she only has eyes for the ridiculously adorable and uncoordinated makeout session taking place in front of her

cousin tu's voice comes from the direction of the house. "oh dude they're done arguing? right on"

bolin: how long have they been arguing?

tu: idk, like half an hour? for a while they were just arm-wrestling but korra let mako win because it's his birthday, and he got all cranky about it

bolin: uh-huh. so how did they get from that...to this?

tu: well obviously then korra said it doesn't matter if she's the best arm-wrestler because mako's the best kisser

bolin: wait

tu: and mako was all, "no YOU'RE the best kisser" and korra went "no YOU are"

bolin: so you mean to tell me...

tu: and i got bored after like, five minutes of that so i went back inside

bolin: ...all this time they were fighting because they each think the OTHER person is better at kissing?

tu: well, yeah. i mean if you ask me they both seem to be pretty bad at kissing lol. but whatever, it's not my problem. no offense, asami!

bolin: they're probably better at kissing when they're sober. i mean, this is just embarrassing. right, asami? please tell me this is not what you're working with on a daily basis. asami? hello? asami?

but asami isn't listening. she's gazing at korra and mako with the goofiest smile on her face. her pupils have turned into heart shapes. without conscious decision on her part she clasps her hands and presses them sappily to her bosom

tu: dude, maybe we should, like, give them a minute

bolin: is this even safe? what if they bite each other's lips off?

tu: korra's a healer, right? like, i'm not worried about it

asami doesn't notice them leave. she's so full of love for these two ridiculous idiots that it's spilling out of her in the form of literal tears. she's crying from how much she loves them

this continues until korra and mako in their clumsy enthusiasm actually fall into the pool. korra bends the water away from mako before he can drown and then immediately tries to punch it for endangering him. asami runs over to get them out and they both see that she's been crying. this is followed by a five-minute sequence of mako frantically petting her hair while she tries to convince korra to put away the fire-dagger, no one has been mean to her, everything is all right, korra, no wait, don't go into the avatar state, you're going to suck the cake into the element vortex -

mako thinks it's very unfair that the day after his birthday, he's the only one who wakes up with a hangover. apparently the avatar, who's been up since the buttcrack of dawn merrily inventing the new field of batterbending to replace the cake she and her past lives destroyed, is above such concerns. asami kisses his nose with great affection and, it must be said, terrible morning breath. "how about this," she says. "on my birthday, korra and i will get drunk and attempt to eat each other's faces and you can babysit. sound good?"

yes, that sounds good, he thinks. after all, taking turns has served them pretty well so far.

#my other favorite imagine is just nobody believing mako when he says he's dating korrasami #they're all like yeah sure dude. the two most eligible bachelorettes in republic city are dating each other AND you. we buy it #and he's like no really! they love me and everything! they told me so! #uh-huh. sure they do. in your dreams buddy 🙄 #lok #makorrasami #my posts #i totally understand and support the korrasami-only shippers like you guys are sooooo valid i'm 100% behind you #korrasami is CANON. they're in LOVE #but for me personally there's just something so funny about that part in the comics where mako's like #sorry...i really do support you guys i've just never had two of my exes end up together before... #he's so fucking awkward. i just want to see them kiss about it #like korrasami have been dating for two years and are solid and one day they discover that they both still think mako can get it #and they're like why not? don't we deserve nice things? we've all got two hands haven't we? #so they just go for it. Good For Them #asami loves having someone to gush over korra with and korra loves having someone to gush over asami with #and mako? he's just happy to be here :)

[appalesbian]

Modern AU Korra & Asami get drunk one night and recreate this beautiful work of art. Zhu Li is Big Bird in the background.

I’m screaming, they absolutely would. They’re so weird, I hate them (blatantly false.) if I could draw literally anything beyond stick figures it would be over for y’all. Who’s pinching whose nipple though??🤔 I feel like I could argue either way.

Like can you imagine some future Avatar gets passed down a bunch of treasured Avatar possessions from previous lifetimes and then somewhere in there is this. Poor new avatar is like uhhhhhhh one of my spiritual artifacts seems to be this bizarre topless photo of Avatar Korra with Future Industries’ first female CEO and also is that fucking president Moon??? who do I talk to about this????

#asks #korrasamibottles

[olivetreehugger]

introducing: dispatches from republic city

Hey any and all Bolin fans! I recently rewatched LoK and it reignited my love of this universe. About 10 years ago, I sort of latched onto a side character and shipped her with Bolin, but it never became anything until now. I have started writing this story, "dispatches from republic city" about Bolin and this side character, who I have named Tanana or "Nani" for short. I will place a link below for a separate post regarding this character and why I am shipping her with Bolin.

But for story's sake, I headcanon that Nani sounds like Susan Egan (she played Meg in Hercules and Rose Quartz in Steven Universe! Her singing voice is similar, but I also headcanon that she sounds like Annapantsu on Youtube-she's INCREDIBLE!). In the show, her height isn't well established, in some gifs she's the same height as the other girls, other times she is the same height as Tahno? So I'm dubbing her a solid 5'7, while Bolin started the show at a nice 5'8 and seems to have grown a bit taller? Just look at him compared to Mako in Book 4 and tell me he hasn't gotten taller! In my fic, he's 5'10.

anyways, moving on. This story takes place post-Book 4, but I've made some changes. I've always been a Makorra gal, don't get me wrong we love the gays in this house but frankly I never got the appeal of Korrasami. I won't get into why right now, I just always loved Makorra and that will never change. Oh, and call me bitter but in this world, Zuko and Katara got together *cough*. It really won't be mentioned, but it is my head canon and I'm sticking to it.

in this story, Mako and Korra have recently gotten back together, but the actual narrative doesn't focus on them too much. The story is strictly from Nani's perspective, with only one possible chapter dedicated to Bolin's POV. We'll see how it fleshes out!

See below for chapter one of "dispatches from republic city"!

dispatches from republic city

chapter one: once a wolfbat

rating: M for sex and violence, language and eventual S/A

The sound of the lunch gong split through the air like a cannon, just as Tanana barreled into the kitchen of Mama Chen’s Dumpling Joint. She hurriedly tied her apron around her waist.

She glanced up at the clock and winced. 15 minutes late!

Any minute now, Mama Chen would burst through the swinging door, ranting and raving about her repeated tardiness.

The scent of sizzling pork fat and vegetables wafted through the air, making Tanana’s mouth water. Her stomach growled knowingly. She hadn’t had single thing to eat today.

Slyly, she ducked past the fry cooks and swiped a bun from the platter next to them and stuffed it into her mouth so no one would see. She then glided towards the back of the kitchen, near the freezer, and spent a few quiet moments savoring her stolen meal.

This was now a daily routine. She’d work from noon until midnight—at least, that’s what her timecard would reflect. Tanana, or Nani, as she preferred--was usually at Mama Chen’s from about 12 pm to 2am the next day, spending an extra two hours clearing out the drunks, teenagers and straddlers while simultaneously helping to close for the next day. She would then stuff her bag with whatever leftovers (whatever she could hide, anyways), and walk to The Bookkeeper’s apartment where she stayed. She’d eat, leave the rest of in the ice box for the old lady, and then collapse wherever she could before waking up and starting the day all over.

All for two yuan a day, though if she charmed the right customer, she might get lucky and score a decent tip.

Ever since Kuvira’s mecha-weapon destroyed the downtown area, people moved in droves to the outer neighborhoods, meaning there was less of everything to go around-including work. For many, it was a struggle just to keep their heads above water. For Nani, it was an ice cold wake up call.

As she chewed and swallowed the rest of the salty dough, the brunette wiped a dribble of oil from her chin with the corner of her apron. Without missing another beat, she picked up a tray of discarded dirty dishes and began her work.

The mix of steam, oil, and body odor marinated in Nani’s hair and skin as she worked alongside the other unfortunates around her. She didn’t bother to learn their names, why would she? After all, Nani wasn’t here to make friends. And none of these people were “friend-material”, anyway.

They all seemed to have a silent agreement, though-as long as no one snitched on the other, they all kept to themselves.

Well, some of them did, anyway.

As another invisible fixture of the kitchen, Nani usually got a front row seat to the hushed confessions of the degenerates around her: the ones who cheated on their spouses, the ones who stole money from their parents to buy opium, the ones who got pregnant and left their babies in the woods.

Hearing such tantalizing gossip would leave a person reeling, bursting at the seams as they waited to regurgitate the story to another person, but not Nani.  She’d learned a long time ago that being a snitch was a stupid form of suicide, and she had the scar to prove it.

Her life was otherwise an exhausting blur—what was a little gossip to pass the time? She would be lying if she said it didn’t give her a delightful thrill of power to know what made people stir at night, what made them ache from the inside out. To know that others were awful human beings meant she wasn’t as awful as she thought. And that was nice to believe, if only briefly.

The hours seemed to fly by quickly as Nani scrubbed, wiped and swept every inch of the kitchen. She wiped a few drops of perspiration from her brow as Mama Chen shoved through the doors.

“You!” The older woman pointed angrily at Nani. “Don’t think I didn’t notice your tardiness today. This is the last day you dishonor me. You’re fired!”

Nani felt her face instantly turn red as the other workers turned to stare at her.

She didn’t expect that.

Biting back a nasty response, she tore her apron off and let it fall haphazardly at her feet. She pushed past Mama Chen and ignored her when the older woman screeched something about “making sure she never worked in another restaurant again!”

The cool autumn air slapped Nani harder than Mama Chen’s words, but it was a welcome reprieve from the congested, sweaty air of the kitchen. She sighed and inhaled deeply, her nerves on edge as she suddenly realized that she was once again out of a job.

How could she explain herself when she showed up at the store early and empty-handed?

She started down the block, racking her mind with excuses to tell the Bookkeeper, who would undoubtedly assure Nani she was doing her best and to not worry about a thing. Still, the young brunette knew the elderly woman would have to worry about her next meal and the concerning lack of customers.

Another sudden gust of wind burst forth, smashing a flurry of discarded newspaper and ads into her face.

Nani stumbled back, the wall of stray papers temporarily blinding her. She sputtered as she ripped the sheets from her face, only for one of them to catch her eye.

It was a flashy advertisement, adorned with gaudy colors and symbols, calling hopeful talents to appear on Shiro Shinobi’s new radio channel 54. The advertisement promised the potential winner a chance at hosting their very own show on the channel!

She reread the last sentence over and over, her grayish-green eyes widening at the prospect.

Could it be?

Suddenly, Nani was on a stage, a crowd of mesmerized onlookers chanting her name as she crooned into a microphone for them. The camera flashes caught the glitter of the jewels on her dress so perfectly,  momentarily blinding her, but it didn’t matter.

She was star.

For a moment, Nani dared to dream about a future that seemed impossible just moments ago. This… had to be a sign. This opportunity quite literally slapped her in the face!

Feeling giddy, she hurried back to the shop.

----

Taking one last glance at the mirror, Nani grinned with satisfaction.

She looked good, really good, like that poster of Cherry Wong hanging in Mama Chen’s. She even emulated the famous singer’s makeup, dark red lipstick and sultry cat eyes to bring out the green.

One of the first, and most influential, performers in the United Republic- Cherry Wong wowed audiences with her stunning features and incredible voice. She had a talent that no one had seen in those times. She was known for taking old Earth Kingdom poems and transforming them into melodious harmonies. Her music was enjoyed by both old and young audiences alike.

As a child listening from the partially open windows of the clubs, Nani marveled at her talent and was utterly inspired by her passion. She spent most of her free time practicing her sonnets and ballads, hoping to find her voice like Cherry Wong found hers.

A crash sounded in the room next door, followed by a cry of pain.

Nani jolted, rushing to the sound. In the hallway, a massive grandfather clock had toppled over, pinning the Bookkeeper under its impressive weight. Shards of glass and wood lay scattered around her. Blood trickled from the elderly woman’s mouth.

“Oh…oh…” the woman whimpered, shaking as she struggled under the gargantuan fixture.

Nani gasped, nearly frozen by the grisly sight. She fell to her knees, cradled the woman’s head in her hands and cried, “I’ll call for help!”

She wasn’t sure if the woman was shaking from pain or simply nodding her head, but she spent no time discerning the difference. The brunette gently laid the Bookkeeper’s head down and jumped over the sea of glass shards that littered the floor. She sped outside and flung the door to the store open, shouting for help.

The rest of the morning was a blur of people, police sirens, ambulances and cleaning up glass. Nani breathed shakily as the medics strapped the Bookkeeper into the stretcher. She reached out and squeezed her hand.

“Don’t let them take my shop,” the Bookkeeper moaned, her bandaged face soaked in tears.

Nani couldn’t say anything with the massive lump in her throat, so she mustered a nod and watched as the medics took her away in a flurry of sirens.

The tumultuous morning events had shaken Nani terribly. A jagged feeling of guilt dug into her abdomen as she returned to her room, her gaze fixated on the poster she hung above her bed. She peeled it off the wall and folded it gingerly, setting it on the mattress.

She turned away, prepared to give up this dream once and for all.

Unless…

Nani’s eyes tracked round to the bed where the poster sat. After a moment, she reached for it and unfolded the paper, gazing at it intently.

Guilt be damned. She would be stupid to waste the opportunity.

Betrayal accompanied the sound of the clanging keys as Nani locked up the store and darted up the street, her purse and the poster in her arms. Waving wildly, she was able to flag down a taxi and hurled herself into the backseat.

“To Studio 54, please.”

----

Traffic was actually quite agreeable that morning. When the cab finally reached the studio, Nani tossed what little money she had left into the greasy palm of the cab driver and pounced from the backseat onto the pavement. The sound of the cab speeding away barely registered as the brunette gazed up at the building.

The studio itself had undergone quite a transformation. It used to be a simple office building in Harmony Park, but with Shiro Shinobi’s attention (and money), it quickly became the hub for all radio-based creativity and communications. People from all over the world could be heard from this very building. Their stories, their songs, their lives…spread across soundwaves and flowing indiscriminately to anyone who could turn a dial, only to become a daily, integral part of that person’s life. It was magical, really.

Bright red, towering doors were cast open, inviting Nani inside with their promise of fame and freedom.

When she walked in, she noticed the line for auditions was quite short. Only a handful of people were in the queue. Directly in front of her stood a broad-shouldered individual who was just tall enough to obscure her vision of the ticket desk at the front of the line. Hopping onto her tip toes, Nani got a brief view of the desk and noticed the alarmingly short stack of tickets.

Her stomach turning to stone, the brunette reached up and twirled a strand of curls between her fingers. It was something she’d done since childhood, whenever she was intensely anxious.

With every auditionee, the stack got shorter and shorter. She watched in despair as the ticketer handed over the very last one to the man in front of her. Nani took a defeated step forward, the last glimmer of hope extinguished as the ticketer merely shook his head.

“Sorry, toots. Gotta be quicker next time.”

Her shoulders sank and her eyes stung as the failure dragged her under water. Her gaze traveled to the group of auditionees filing into the audition booth, the forbidden space meant only for the most auspicious, blessed individuals favored by the spirits.

Nani, as usual, was not such a person. The spirits must’ve really gotten a kick outta this one.

She chewed on her ire and hurt as she trudged back to the shop. The stone in her gut had turned into a burning lump of coal. What was worse, the humiliation of being turned away from the one thing she’d always wanted, or the immense guilt of closing the store and setting the Bookkeeper back for a stupid pipedream doomed to flop?

When she reached the decrepit little book store, she hastily let her self in and slammed the door behind her. Her eyes caught the broken grandfather clock, now shoved into a corner where it could no longer fall on frail old ladies. She locked her jaw in indignation.

Marching through the shop, Nani found the tiny radio she shared with her elderly roommate. She tore it from its perch on the counter and chucked into the trash outside. She ripped the poster from her purse and tore it to bits, letting the pieces fall around her like confetti. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

There she was, once again in a hapless celebration of her own failures and delusions.

“You’re never gonna learn, are you?”

----

It was an unusually warm autumn morning as Nani walked into the Bookkeeper’s hospital room. Clasped between her fingers was a large bouquet of petunias, the old woman’s favorite flowers.

“What a surprise,” the Bookkeeper murmured, lifting her head from the pillow to see the young woman at the foot of her bed. “Come, come sit.”

A sad smile tugged on Nani’s lips. The Bookkeeper looked so much smaller than she remembered. Her face had become jaunt and skeletal, her eyes barely open slits, her lips cracked and bleeding. Her neck was so weak she could barely lift her head.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Nani offered.

“What lovely flowers,” the Bookkeeper said, as if not hearing Nani’s apology. “Find a vase for them, and put them in the windowsill. They like the sun.”

The brunette did as she was told and took a seat next to the old woman’s bed.

“I heard the most beautiful lady sing on the radio last night,” the Bookkeeper mused. Her eyes glittered with tears. “What a star she was. Did you hear her?”

Nani clenched her jaw. The audition was last week, so the stinging feeling of disappointment was still fresh. The Bookkeeper had unknowingly thrown salt right into her wounds.

The old woman turned her head weakly to smile at Nani. “I have no idea where she is,” she whispered, her tears falling down the side of her face. “She said she would be back, but I think she got lost.”

Concern set in as Nani watched the Bookkeeper’s face relax into silent, pleasant confusion. Her eyes settled on the ceiling, as though watching clouds in the sky.

It was later revealed that the Bookkeeper had cancer, and it not only ate through her bones, but it was actively chewing through her brain, too. Nani had thought it was simply senility easing its way in, a normal part of aging.

But this wasn’t normal aging. This was dying.

Nani sat at the Bookkeeper’s side for several days, comforting her as she cried out for people who weren’t there, moistening her lips with cool water, and mustering a brave face as she watched the woman who took her in waste away.

As the end drew closer, Nani knew what had to be done.

The woman deserved a proper burial at the very least. To sell the shop felt like betraying her, but what else could Nani do? She had no job, no support, and the shop hadn’t made a sale in months.  

That’s what Nani told herself when she found a buyer. The guy was skeezy, but he paid a decent amount that would cover the Bookkeeper’s funeral and then some. He seemed rather excited to take the shop off of Nani’s hands, and frankly, she was eager to wash her hands of it.

The exchange went well, leaving her with a hefty envelope of cash under her arm and one less guilt trip to carry around.

Still, her eyes filled with tears as she watched the flames flicking at the funeral pyre. The Bookkeeper was kind and generous. She never badgered Nani for rent. She never judged or shamed her when she lost a job. She was just there…a trustworthy, safe fixture that Nani could rely on.

When the last of the flames died and the old woman’s ashes were collected, Nani walked to her grave site and placed the urn in the ground before piling a mound of loose dirt over it. She sighed, wiping her hands on the hem of her dress and sat back on her heels.

The sky was gray as she dipped her head and pressed her palms together, murmuring a final prayer for the old woman’s soul.

“Well, ain’t that a pity,” a male voice drawled behind her.

Nani tensed. She must’ve not heard the footfalls coming up behind her. She used to be good at that.

A disappointed clicking noise left the man’s lips. “Can’t say hi to an old friend?”

Nani’s heart pounded in her chest as sweat began forming on her brow. Reluctantly, she turned her head to see the tanned, curly haired man looming over her. His hands rested on his hips as he stared her down.

“M-ming.”

Her voice betrayed her as it cracked. She didn’t mean to, but the very sight of him had her frozen to the ground where she sat.

The earthbender smirked at her, his soulless gray eyes boring through her body.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, sweetheart. Tahno had us looking everywhere for you. After a while, we just assumed you died with the other poor souls in the tunnels,” he said, his voice devoid of any concern.

Nani gulped as he lent down  on his knees, meeting her eye to eye.

“Turns out, you’re just good at hiding,” he cooed, reaching out to caress her cheek.

The young woman gasped sharply as she jerked away, glaring at the man with a mix of terror and disgust.

A few moments passed as she tried to compose herself. “W-what are you doing here?” She questioned.

Ming glared at her intensely. “What do you think?” 

A shiver ran down her spine as she digested his question. Wolfbats were known for being possessive of their mates.

Nani’s hands wandered behind her, grabbing fistfuls of grass before finally finding a rock. She swung her arm around, clocking Ming in the jaw with it.

“I’m not going back!” She screamed.

He went down with a loud grunt, and Nani took off. She didn’t dare look behind her as she darted away, lurching over tombstones, urns and dead flowers, desperately running away from the life she left behind last year.

As she zig-zagged through the cemetery, she could hear the sound of heavy stones whooshing past her, some just barely grazing the tips of her hair.

“You chose the wrong place to pick a fight with me, baby!” Ming taunted, his voice echoing not too far behind.

Nani’s heart pounded against her ribcage. Her eyes fixated on the iron gate at the entrance, hoping to clear its threshold before her attacker could reach her. Her legs ached as she pumped forwards, her breathing ragged. With every distressing step, the gate grew closer.

Suddenly, two tombstones came flying from opposite sides, sandwiching Nani between the slabs of rock, slamming her into the ground.

Ming was right. It was stupid to challenge an earth bender in a cemetery.

“Agh!” She cried out, her ribs cracking under the weight.

She could hear the sound of grass being trampled and winced when Ming’s face came into view. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

She squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing her fear.

“You were always such a stubborn broad,” he lamented.

Like an act of mercy, the stones fell away and the pain swiftly disappeared with them. Nani blinked, staring up at her old compatriot.

“Just kill me, then,” she panted. “I’m not going back to Tahno!”

Ming dropped to her level again, this time cruelly yanking her forward by her hair. She yelped in pain.

“You knew that shop was drowning in debt, didn’t you?” He questioned, quiet but threatening. “The bank sent a letter threatening foreclosure four months ago. You let my uncle buy a foreclosed business!”

Nani wasn’t sure how to respond. Since when did Ming have an uncle? Was this not about Tahno?

“I didn’t know!” It was true, she didn’t know just how bad the debt was. All she had were a few bills and the deed to the shop. And, damn, if she’d known San Ho was Ming’s uncle, she would’ve never sold the shop to him. Now, she’d really done herself in.

Ming pulled harder on her hair, and Nani cried out, clawing at his forearm as she squirmed under his grip.

Eventually, he released her. Nani fell back, gasping for breath as she watched Ming, petrified.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Normally when someone pathetic and nameless crosses San Ho, they get whacked. But, we’re old pals-wouldn’t you agree?”

Nani diverted her gaze from him. ‘Pals’ was a strong word.

Ming flashed her a sinister grin. “When I heard about your little transgression, I had the option to send my uncle’s goons out to find you. But those guys, they aren’t exactly known for their self control, if y’know what I mean.”

Instinctively, Nani pressed her legs together tightly.

“Believe it or not,” the earthbender continued, “I was real down when you left us, Nani. I don’t think Tahno ever gave you credit for how talented you were, but I saw it.”

Drops of rain kissed the top of Nani’s head, soon becoming an overpour. The heavens above seemed to pour out their disfavor of her, thunderously crashing down like a typhoon in the spring. If she even dared to run again, the mud would only make the chase more difficult. Ming would capture her again, and would likely break a few bones to drive home his point.

She’d lost, Nani told herself.  If tears rolled down her cheeks, Ming didn’t see them.

“Once a Wolfbat, always a Wolfbat,” she murmured, echoing Tahno’s words.

Ming shook his head, snickering. Nani snapped her head up to look at him through a curtain of sopping wet curls.

He chuckled at her confusion, replying, “Like I said, Tahno was a fool to ignore your talent.”

Apparently, he had other plans.

Nani would have to sell her body again, but not in the way most girls on the streets did. San Ho, Ming’s very rich and very corrupt uncle, owned a lucrative brewing company as well as a few dozen opium dens throughout the United Republic. He had quite a few connections with the Terra Triad, of which his nephew was an avid participant. His customers were often high-profile businessmen and women who liked getting drunk and high while being, well, serviced. Everyone appreciated good music and dancing, and Nani would provide. It was abnormally merciful, but who was Nani to refuse?

After all, Ming teased, there were worse ways to put her mouth to use.

----

Nani sighed as she picked up the cheap, shimmering silver fabric of the dress laid on the chair of her “dressing room”, i.e. a dimly lit walk-in closet with a futon on the ground coated in mysterious dried fluids.

She slipped out of her old maroon dress, undid her brassiere, and slid the new dress over her head. She shimmied and danced a bit until she was able to get the cloth over her hips. Eventually, the dress was on, and it actually fit pretty well, considering it had belonged to someone else. Nani’s breasts and back were very much exposed , however, leaving very little to the imagination. Even the most salacious lingerie wasn’t this provocative, but Nani knew her “audience” would appreciate it. Even more so, Ming and his uncle would be pleased.

As Nani rummaged through the box of costumes in front of her, she pulled out a feathered, boa-like head piece with a glittery band that matched her dress. She wrapped it around her head, careful not to disturb her curls which she’d smoothed down with gel earlier.

A heavy-handed knock startled her.

“Come on now, let’s see it.” It was Ming.

A deep sigh left her lips as Nani threw open the door. The earthbender was leaning against the frame, his eyes trailing up and down, a stomach-churning grin of satisfaction on his lips as he drank in her appearance.

“You look good enough to eat,” he muttered.

Nani didn’t look him in the eye as she walked past him, the look of disgust apparent on her face. She made her way to the long mirror in the hallway and stared at her reflection. The ridiculous headpiece, the exaggerated makeup, the scandalous outfit.

She was a show girl. An indentured show girl.

A mirthless laugh left her mouth without warning. You want fame? The spirits asked. Here’s your fame.

Ming sauntered into frame and put a cold hand on her shoulder. It took everything in Nani’s being not to recoil from him.

“The madame wants to meet you before you take the stage,” he said.

In another room, one more decadently decorated and much cleaner, sat the Madame. She was a tall, middle aged woman with a heavily powdered face and nails like knives. She was dressed in a silk red and pink kimono and a glossy black wig. She was pouring tea into a small cup.

“Madame Yoshino, I’ve brought your newest act, as promised,” Ming announced, keeping his fingers tightly curled around Nani’s shoulder as he led her into the room.

The exquisite woman stood from her cushion, cup in hand. She approached Nani with narrowed eyes. She barely looked at her before turning away in disgust.

“She’s dark,” she spat.

Nani’s eyes widened at the unexpected jab. Her hands balled into fists, nails digging into her palms.

Ming patted her back, replying confidently, “You’ve got plenty of porcelain dolls, why get another one when you can have a bronze beauty instead?”

Madame Yoshino glowered at Ming for a moment before turning her attention back to the young woman. She raised an inquisitive brow at her. She studied Nani’s figure,  pausing over her chest and then her face, where she lingered for a long time.

Nani gulped as she tried, and failed, not to look the frighteningly intimidating woman in the eyes.

The madame grasped her chin and forcefully jerked her face from side to side.

“Open your mouth,” she demanded.

Nani gave her a hateful stare but complied when Ming slapped her ass with stinging force.

She bit back a yelp and let the Madame inspect her teeth.

“Hm…a few cavities, but overall not bad,” the older woman commented. She tapped Nani’s jaw as if to signal her to close it.

Shrugging, Madame Yoshino took a sip of her tea and settled her gaze on Nani again. “Where are you from, little miss? North or South?”

Nani understood her question, as many had asked the same. And she answered the same as she always did.

“Neither,” she replied boldly. “I’m from Republic City.”

Ming cleared his throat and pinched the back of her arm. Nani squeezed her eyes shut to keep from crying out in pain.

Madame Yoshino set her teacup down, waving her arms in the air with disdain. “No, no, no! That won’t do. From now on, you’re a Northern girl, you see?”

Another slap to her behind from Ming, this time less vicious. “Our little arctic fox,” he teased.

Nani bit her tongue until it bled. Hatred burned in her veins as the two continued to talk about her as though she weren’t in the room. To them, she was just a piece of meat to be devoured later, then regurgitated and devoured again…until she was completely unrecognizable.

Madame Yoshino dug her dagger-like nails into Nani’s arm as she dragged her onstage.

The brunette’s eyes darted around the room. The atmosphere was thick with the familiar scent of opium and sweat. The dim lights were a blood-red hue, blanketing everything in a sort of sensual, dangerous anonymity.

Her gaze turned to the door in the very back of the room. If she tried to make a run for it, Ming could easily block off the exit with his earth bending, or smash a rock into her head with a swipe of his hand.

Madame Yoshino took the microphone and introduced her as a “Northern Snow Princess”.

A stage light shined jarringly in her face, blinding her for a few seconds. As her vision adjusted, Nani took in the environment around her.

Various paintings and portraits of people engaged in lewd sex acts decorated the walls. Well-dressed men, and a few women, sat on various couches and cushions, pipes and sake glasses in their hands as young courtesans fawned over them. Their clothes were still on, but a few had their shirts unbuttoned, dresses turned askew, shoes missing.

This was nothing like her daydreams.

The clientele hummed in surprise and intrigue, a few even clapped. Nani couldn’t stomach looking at them directly, instead focusing on a portrait to the right of her. It was a photograph, blown up on a poster, of a naked woman, her large breasts like two moons shining bright in the night sky, with a green and pink folding fan splayed out between her legs, just barely covering her sex.

Somehow, that woman was using her sexual prowess as a form of power. Somehow, she was able to take hold of the narrative that she’d been sold into. It was in her eyes. Her body was hers, and no one could take that away.

Nani longed to be half as brave as the woman in the photograph.

An upbeat, jazzy tune began playing behind her and her hands trembled as she took the microphone.

Just sing, she told herself. It’s like riding a bicycle.

The words tumbled from her lips on cue as she timed herself to the music. It was a song about falling in love, or something silly like that. It wasn’t the most appropriate song for a brothel, but somehow it got people going.

As the song continued, Nani sashayed her hips to the melody, waving her arms in a rhythmic swaying motion.  

The crowd was pleased, clapping along and cheering. Their enthusiasm would’ve been intoxicating had it not been for the fact that she could see them getting grabby with some of the courtesans.

She did her best to keep singing, to pretend it didn’t bother her. She murmured out a few more notes, humming along and dancing away, but then she saw it:

An older gentleman had his hands around a girl’s throat as he straddled her, his knee forcing its way between her legs. The girl was around Nani’s age, but her face was caked in geisha makeup to make her look older. Her eyes were wide with panic and terror, until they rolled back into her head. Her body went limp in the man’s grasp, but he didn’t let up.

All the while, the cheery cacophony of saxophones, trumpets, bass and drums continued their happy tune as Nani watched this man choke a dead body. Her voice had long been drowned out by the music. Or maybe she’d stopped singing altogether, she didn’t actually recall.

Her eyes were glued to the man’s hands. He just kept going.

The music got louder, the cheers got louder, everything sort of blurring together in the chaos.

It was in that moment that something buried deep inside Nani exploded.

A wordless, enraged shriek tore itself from her throat. She leapt from the stage, grasping the microphone stand in her hands. As she charged at the man, she held the pole over her head and brought it down on his face with a sickening crack.

He crumpled to the floor.

Nani’s hands shook as she dropped the microphone stand. The music came to a screeching halt. The looks of awe and wonder morphed into terror and disgust. Nani could feel Ming and Madame Yoshino’s eyes burning into her back, but all she could do was watch the man stir, trying to push himself up with his hands. Nani brought the pole over her head again.

But before she could deliver another blow, the thick scent of sulfur and ammonia filled the air.

Smoke seemed to pour from every orifice of the building, creating a cloudy miasma that rapidly replaced the oxygen in the room. Panic settled in, screams tearing through the atmosphere as everyone scrambled  to escape.

Nani coughed as she tried to fight the smoke, stumbling over the bodies of the clientele as they dropped like flies around her. Her eyes and lungs burned as the smoke seared into her mucus membranes. She gasped into the crook of her elbow, but the fumes were too much. She staggered towards the exit, when something caught her ankle, causing her to lurch forward.

She was unconscious before she hit the ground.

----

The sound of jingling keys and steel-toed boots woke Nani up. Or maybe it was the raging, fume-induced migraine boring into her skull. She wasn’t quite sure, yet.

“Wake up, miss,” a deep voice beckoned.

Nani groaned as she opened her eyes. She slowly lifted her head, squinting as the figure of a uniformed man came towards her. Behind him, she could see a set of bars. Her mind quickly registered the cuffs around her wrists and ankles.

Eyes snapping open with alarm, Nani jerked away from the officer. She held her arms up to shield herself, but that, unsurprisingly, did nothing to stop him.

“Let’s go,” the officer said, grabbing hold of her arms and pulling her up.

“No, no, no,” she begged. “Please don’t do this!”

She writhed against his iron-grip as he dragged her out of the jail cell and through the halls of the precinct. In her peripheral vision, she saw Ming being carried away by two officers, except his cuffs looked different, like they were wooden—probably so he wouldn’t try to metal bend his way out of them.

Relief washed over her for a second, but only for a second. She then realized she was in a showgirl’s outfit, in a brothel, surrounded by opium, prostitutes and rich people who were above the law.

“I-I don’t belong here!” She said nervously. “You have to believe me.”

The officer scoffed at her. “You know how many times I’ve heard that before?”

She ended up in an interrogation room, sitting across a young detective with enigmatic amber eyes and dark hair.  He had his arms crossed as he leaned back in his chair. He didn’t say anything for a few minutes; he just looked at her.

She covered her chest with her arms, suddenly very self-conscious of her very exposed body.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Nani finally muttered, her voice hoarse.

The detective leaned forward, his elbows on the desk in front of him, as though eager to hear more. “Well, a statement, for starters,” he responded.

Nani shook her head, her glittering headpiece tilting down to one side. “What is there to say?” She retorted. “You found me in a brothel. I know what you do to women in brothels.”

The man raised one sharp brow at her. “Oh?” He replied, as though inviting her to continue.

A tickle started in Nani’s throat, reminding her that she was quite dehydrated. “Can I have some water?” She asked.

Nodding, the detective left the room. In seconds, he was back with a glass of lukewarm water, but Nani didn’t care. She threw her head back and gulped down the whole thing.

When she was finished, she placed the glass in between herself and the detective.

“I’m not some skirt,” she said flatly.

The detective nodded. “I know.”

“How?”

He swiftly laid out several photographs across the table. Nani leaned forward to examine them. There were photos of San Ho, Madame Yoshino, Ming, and several young women and men she did not recognize. Evidence of drug, alcohol and sexual paraphernalia was wantonly displayed in the images.  There were also images of the brothel and other buildings within the Red Light District. Nani was surprised to see those pictures had been taken some time in the morning. They didn’t look so frightening in broad daylight.

The detective explained, “We’ve been watching this group for years-even had a few of our officers infiltrate their ranks to find information that could help us bring them down. They knew every face that walked into that bordello, except yours.”

Nani glanced at the detective and then back at the photos. She couldn’t stop looking at the faces of the young sex workers.

“We did however hear about an unsavory purchase that San Ho had made,” he continued. “Something about a foreclosed book shop?”

Her knee jerk reaction was to scream, “It wasn’t my fault!” but Nani held her tongue. Instead, she looked away.

“The woman I was staying with died,” she muttered. “She owned the bookstore. On her deathbed she asked me sell it.”

That little lie stung. Nani knew it was wrong, but it was better than the truth. The Bookkeeper had begged her not to let anyone take away the shop. Perhaps in her demented, cancer-ridden brain she knew the bank was going to take everything.

Leaning back in his chair, the detective appeared to take this in.

“Okay,” he started slowly, as though he was working out a puzzle in his mind. “So you sold the deed to San Ho, and then he somehow found out it was foreclosed. Then what?”

Nani sighed loudly. “Do I really have to walk you through every little detail?”

Reaching into his coat, the detective pulled out a yellow notepad with one hand and clicked a pen with the other. “Yes, please,” he responded. “Let’s start with your name.”

“Tanana, my friends call me Nani…at least they would if I had friends.”

“Is there a last name?”

“No.”

“Where are you from?”

“Born in Republic City.”

“Ok. Do you have any family we can contact?”

Curls shook furiously. “No family. Just me.”

The detective nodded. “How old are you?”

Nani bit her lip, hesitant. “I-I’m not 100% sure. Between 20 and 23, I think.”

His eyes flew up to her face, filled with confusion and possibly even concern.

“You grew up on the streets,” he responded, as though filling in the blanks. Despite her not asking him to.

The brunette’s expression was stone-like. After a while, the pity gets old.

Clearing his throat, the detective asked Nani to give her statement as truthfully and clearly as she could.

Eager to be done with it, Nani explained the events in the cemetery and the brothel, up until she met Madame Yoshino.

“I thought I was doing a show,” she explained. “But then I looked around, like really looked around, and I realized where I was.”

As she spoke, the detective scribbled furiously onto his notepad.

“Were you asked to perform any sexual acts?” He asked, his eyes not leaving the pad.

“Oh, no,” she responded nonchalantly. She noticed a dusting of pink on the detective’s face as he paused writing for a second. “But I saw quite a few people getting their rocks off in the audience.”

The writing paused momentarily, and then resumed. Nani watched the detective quietly as he wrote. His features just screamed with familiarity, but for some reason she couldn’t place it.

Seconds later, the man looked up and noticed her watching at him. “…I’m listening,” he prompted.

Nani shrugged, “I don’t have much else, sorry.”

Pursing his lips, the detective clicked his pen before stuffing it and the notepad back into his coat. He scooched his chair back and stood.

“Thank you for your statement,” he said curtly, resuming an air of professionalism. “My officers will be in here shortly to undo your cuffs and bring you your belongings.”

Nani nodded in response, watching him as he turned to leave. She almost let him go, but something nagged at her incessantly.

“Detective?”

He turned his head to look at her. “Yes?”

Rubbing the inside of her palm, Nani stared at the files in his hands. “What happened to that girl? Did she make it?”

A look of recognition flashed across his face, followed by somberness. Nani grimaced knowingly.

“No….she was one of ours,” he admitted soberly.

“Spirits….I’m sorry.”

A few seconds of uncomfortable silence lingered in the air.

“Me too,” he responded, closing the door behind him.

----

Less than thirty minutes later, Nani was freed. She wasted no time fleeing downstairs to the front lobby with her purse in hand, covering her chest. As she made her way down, she noticed a group of officers crowded around a radio, howling with laughter.

 She paused, simultaneously amused and annoyed, wondering what they were listening to that was so funny.

“Turn it up, will ya?” A stout officer exclaimed, shoving one of his companions.

The taller, thinner one obliged, chuckling as he playfully punched the first officer back.

Nani lingered in the lobby of the precinct, her ears perked to the sound of Shiro Shinobi’s voice:

--“AAAANNND welcome back ladies and gentlemen to Channel 54 Radio. I’m your host, Shiro Shinobi, and tonight do we got a program for you!”

“Tonight, I am pleased to announce the premiere of our newest program, ‘Dispatches from Republic City’, hosted by the one, the only…

“MISTER BOOOOOOLIIIIIIN!!!! ALSO KNOWN AS NUKTUK: HERO OF THE SOUTH!”--

Nani’s eyes nearly bulged out of her head. Her mind went back to the day of the audition. The man in front of her….did she ever catch a glimpse of his face? Then she remembered, he’d said his name to the ticketer.

Bolin.

A festive, over-the-top jingle played over the soundwaves as the officers whooped and hollered in front of Nani. A tiny, likely overworked and underpaid intern scrambled behind her, spilling a week’s worth of paper shreds around her like a burst of confetti.

It would’ve been comical...if it weren't absolutely maddening.

Nani didn’t bother to listen to the rest of the program. She stared blankly ahead of her as she marched out of the precinct and into the chilly night air. She was burning with so much rage the cold actually felt good on her skin.

For a few seconds, she watched a slurry of satomobiles pass her by and contemplated walking into traffic. And she might’ve done it if she hadn’t looked up and saw a faded Nuktuk poster plastered on the wall of the building beside her.

No, she told herself. You’re not going out like roadkill.

She glared at the actor’s face, memorizing the face of the man who’d stolen her dream from her. Oh, she knew him. Maybe not personally, but she remembered him from her days with the Wolfbats.

He was a cocky Pro-Bender with a pet rat, big whoop. He got his fame when he starred in the movers, even bigger whoop. Who was he to steal audition spots? Didn’t he get his fifteen minutes?

Nani took one last look at the poster before tearing it down and ripping it to bits. People walked past her in the streets, staring at her like she was crazy, but she couldn’t give a rat’s ass if she tried.

She was furious, mostly at herself for giving up so quickly after the audition but also at the universe for favoring that big, dirt-pushing lug over her when it knew how badly she needed this.

Well, no matter. If the spirits could play tricks….then so could she.

She hurried towards the nearest hotel, intent on getting some decent beauty rest. She’d likely have to dip her fingers in some poor sap’s pockets to fund an outfit change. She wasn’t sure about the hair and makeup, but she would find a way. She always did.

After all, she had to look good if she was going to meet Nuktuk, hero of the South.

#legend of korra #bolin #makorra #lok #bolin headcanons #bolin x reader #bolin x oc #wolfbats #whitefalls wolfbats #probending #korra