generationoftheillest asked: (not sure if you're still up for it but...) Odaxelagnia for a pairing of your choice :3 (though I'd rather it not be Makorra, it's okay if it is!)
Sugar I wouldn’t do Makorra if you paid me ;)
Iroh left small kisses along Bolin’s shoulder, gently making his way to the young boys neck. There he began biting, then sucking at the exposed pink flesh as small moans escaped Bo’s lips. It had been 6 long months of duty that caused this. This chance meeting when the Island was silent and the call of work quieted for but a moment. Their eyes had meet across the courtyard; the grounds empty of noise and distraction.
Their eyes meet and some deep longing held their voices still. They hadn’t even spoken before Iroh threw his arms around Bolin and held him tightly, smothering his lips in passionate kisses and leaving a warm tingling in his groin. There wasn’t enough time for talking. Words didn’t matter; actions spoke louder. He had already started ripping Bo’s clothes off before they got to the bedroom. Desparate to dispose of the last barrier between them.
He was still biting; leaving marks across Bolin’s firm skin and pressing sensually on his spine. His hands travelled south, greedy for something he’d long been denied. Bo was whimpering, biting his lip at the new pleasure he found in his lover. Roh didn’t often bite, in fact, they didn’t often do it so roughly.
Iroh was a restrained man, a gentleman raised in Royalty and reserved fashion. Even sex was a restrained act; tempered and sensual, laced with charged fingertips - but that day was different. Iroh was lost in the frustration of months at sea with the taste of his lover lingering on his lips. He wanted to be as close as he could, smother Bo in kisses and bites; mark him.
He licked the new bruises he’d made and lightly dragged his teeth up along Bo’s neck. They were dangerously close and every potential bite, every small nick in his skin just made Bo harder. He’d never really seen Iroh lose it like that before. He was massaging his young lovers back and smiled when he reached his lips. They still hadn’t spoken; only soft moans floated on the humid air of the bedroom.
Roh leaned forward and took Bo’s lips again, biting and peppering kisses with a feverish touch.
Bolin never realised he had a thing for biting until that day.
notbrianna asked: I have a few broh prompts on my blog. (If you don't like any of those could you write something where Bolin watches Iroh sleep?)
“So, Bolin… that’s a wonderfully sharp shirt you have on,” he cursed himself, and then he cursed his linage. There was always that joke that his grandmother would tell, something about shells on a beach and ‘leaving thousands to die at sea’.
Bolin blinked hard and looked at his dress shirt. It wasn’t really anything special, especially not compared to the one the General was wearing. In fact, Bolin was quite sure Iroh was decked out in silk that night; silk of the richest reds and of the highest quality in the fire nation.
“It’s nothing special,” he smiled shyly. It was a little odd to him that Iroh had made such an effort to spend time with him that evening. Usually royalty, nobility and those with rank would mingle in themselves. Bo was only there because he knew Korra.
“It’s wonderful. It makes you look even more handsome than you already are,” Iroh felt his face grow slightly red and he couldn’t help but grip his hands behind his back. He’d never understand why he grew so nervous around Bolin. There was just something about the boy; maybe the dim-witted charm or the rough innocence that reflected in those green eyes.
Bo blushed at the compliment and pulled at the edge of the shirt. Iroh was paying so much attention to him, even though there were scores of beautiful women all lined up and waiting, desperate for the Prince to finish up his chat with the little boy and avert his attention to them.
“Don’t, you’ll pull it out of shape,” Iroh smiled lightly and took Bolin’s hands in his own. There was a slight pause as the two revelled in the connection of skin. A shiver went down Bolin’s spine.
“You’re hands are really warm,” Bolin said it almost on instinct. He was lost for something to say so the first thing he could think of came flowing from his mouth.
“Well you’re hands are very soft,” Iroh chuckled and intertwined their fingers. The night was young and the candles still burning; they had plenty of time to get to know each other better.
Keep me fresh people. I’ll do Legend of Korra ones again, especially Lieumon, Tahorra and Broh. Not really a Makorra person, only at a push will I do those.
Grey Delisle has a post where someone says they don’t really care for her in a video and she apologises for being in the way. She’s so cute.
But I think Azula should sort this out. No peasant tells her she’s not that good.
I say to the boiling rock with them for making our Queen feel bad!
Thus begins the beginning of the end – or so many a fan would think when most admirers of a certain series turn against their main protagonist. It’s not unknown that I have a serious case of ‘Bad Fan Swag’ when it comes to ‘The Legend of Korra’. I cried, I moaned, I denied it to the bitter end; that was until the series just got too much to handle. On this glorious day, most lovably dubbed ‘Korra Criticism Day’, I can air my opinions about our here-and-there heroine. Now, life goes on when you don’t like a character, but it usually counts for something to make your main protagonist something of a staple. Without a real driving force to the character that leads, the plot can meander and other characters might find themselves de-railed without a common goal or interest. To leave your leading lady to chance is to throw her to the fandom wolves.
Deconstructing Korra as a character isn’t hard; she screams 2D cut-out whilst still bearing the inevitable outlines of some very basic attempt of development. We see two sides to her, but the second side is barely there and often easily forgotten. So, to truly take Korra down and analyse her, we need to examine her actions throughout the series.
Anonymous asked: Tahnorra prompt: Korra finds out Tahno's relatives are swamp waterbenders. I.e, rednecks.
“Breathe a word of this, Uh-vatar, and you’re dead,” his voice hissed under the celebratory tones of his parents.
Tahno had meant to pay them a solitary visit, considering he had always promised he’d go back to the swamp when he could. He’d never imagined Korra would manage to sneak along too.
“What a purdy girlfriend you have here, sugah lump,” his mother’s accent was particularly thick and Korra couldn’t help but snicker at the nickname.
“Don’t laugh at my mother, she’s a respected water bender in these parts!” It was true. Tahno’s mother may of had the heavy swamp tribe tone but she was no push over. She was a lean woman, with swift curves around the hips; maybe reminiscent of a common ancestry with the water tribes. She certainly flowed, with black hair that waved like the vines down to her waist and a more tanned complexion than her son’s.
“My little sugah never told me he had a girlfriend. Then, he doesn’t get to tell us much since he moved,” she pinched Tahno’s cheek and he quickly slapped it away.
“Now, don’t be huffy with your mother, boy. You know you ent been contacting us as much as we’d like you too,” his father was even taller than the mother, with a build not unlike Korra’s own father. Though this man was much paler; with a bush of thick black hair tied back with vine rope and the glint of a huntsman in his light eyes.
“That’s right, sugah lump. We’ve been worried.”
Korra tapped her fingers against the frame of her chair and had to grip slightly not to let out a laugh. It was the names, the nicknames they kept calling him that were setting her off.
“I’m busy, I’m a pro-bender now. I have a life,” Tahno had suddenly reverted back to a spoiled teenage brat; desperately eager to stop his parents questioning.
“We know darlin’, but we just like to know how you’re doing,” his mothers’ eyes flashed with worry as she placed a hand to his. She was certainly a beautiful woman to say the least.
“I know I should probably come home more than I do.”
“That’s right, my little swamp-cutie. Did I tell you about the time he tried to bend some vines and ended up whipin’ himself?” Tahno’s mother suddenly leaned over towards Korra.
“Not a word, Uh-vatar. Not a word.”
Anonymous asked: Kataang prompt: She swore she could still hear his voice in the wind. She wondered if he was trying to reach her from the Spirit World.
It had been a long time since those days when Appa took them above the clouds; when Sokka’s voice still hung in the air and the earth at her feet trembled at Toph’s movements. They’d all come to pass. It had almost seemed implausible at the time. They’d survived a war - a war that lasted 100 years. What could possibly bring the great Team Avatar to it’s knee’s?
Aang went silently in his sleep. Old age had crept up on him; she saw in those last few days, the difference in his eyes. She prayed she wouldn’t be too long in following him. Her brother was already gone. Nothing but memories - a love-lit cave, sweat and spirit water only in drops. On cold nights she liked to still look up to the moon and in some sudden haze she swore she could see Yue. She was as young and beautiful as when she’d left for the spirit world.
Sometimes, just sometimes, when she was looking up towards those star-lit nights, she thought she could hear him. It was nothing but a whisper and it was his adult voice; calling, calling from the spirit world.
“Soon, Katara. Together again.”