#Uncle Dumpling

[theangrycomet-art]

Sooga Back Then

Sooga Island's Monster problem has only recently gone down to a reasonable level. Even 15 years ago it wasn't considered unusual for the village to have to be rebuilt twice a month.

Luckily, things have changed since then. Between new sources of food and the alliance with the local Goblins, Sooga Island is now a thriving community.

It just took some time to get there.

COMMISSIONS OPEN

[skullhaver]

today's soup is going to be so good, i fear i am setting the bar too high for myself too early in the fall season.

but my wife is sick and she deserves my absolute best, so i will simply have to learn to surpass true greatness

[spacetimesystem]

Me: why do I feel like I’m being watched

Eidos: 🧍

[euthymiya]

sharks and cameras — ft. ryomen sukuna

you leave yuuji under sukuna’s supervision for the day. something tells you that your boyfriend is a far more doting uncle than he likes to let on

before you read: fem reader ; non curse au/modern au ; established relationship ; uncle sukuna and baby nephew yuuji ; aquarium visits with yuuji and sukuna aka the most troublesome (and adorable) duo

notes: more uncle kuna here! ; this is dedicated to the nonnie with the proud uncle kuna ask (i accidentally deleted the ask im so sorry </3)

“Uncle Kuna took me to see the sharks today,” Yuuji tells you excitedly across the dinner table. You look over at Sukuna, watching as he takes a sip of his water and rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, the brat wouldn’t quit begging. Annoying little shit,” he grumbles.

“Sukuna,” you scold sharply, sending him a glare as he scoffs, “no cursing in front of children. Or at the table.”

“He doesn’t even understand—” your narrowed eyes make him pause. He contemplates for a moment before conceding, grumbling under his breath before he clicks his teeth and looks off to the side. “Kay, whatever.”

“What else did you see, Yuuji?” You ask sweetly, reaching over to ruffle his hair as he giggles. You wipe at the corner of his mouth, cleaning it off as he leans into your touch.

“A fish!”

“They were all fish, you idio—brat. You brat.”

Your boyfriend is at least smart enough to catch himself before he finishes his sentence, correcting his choice of words as your head snaps towards him with a dangerous glint in your eyes.

You leave Sukuna with Yuuji alone for the day. Usually, you’re there to babysit the nephew of your boyfriend (who should be more involved in being responsible for his own flesh and blood, you like to think), but work has other plans.

So you leave for the day, snacks stocked and cartoons ready on the tv screen, extra clothes laid out just in case and picture books assorted on the shelves. You give Sukuna a list.

Nap time is at two pm. Snacks every few hours, but not too much. No more than three pieces of candy throughout the day. Juice only boxes at room temperature (because Yuuji is just getting over a cold). Bath time at six pm. Dinner will be takeout that you bring home with you—no touching the stove without someone else to occupy Yuuji (because Sukuna is bad at multitasking).

And most importantly, absolutely no scary movies. None.

Evidently, your boyfriend takes his nephew out to the aquarium, however. You’re not exactly alarmed by the gesture, but something about Sukuna alone with a child out in the real world gives you a small sense of anxiety.

He’s not…the most attentive person at times.

“What color were the fish, Yuuji?” You hum, helping him take a bite out of his dumpling.

“Rainbow,” he beams.

“Rainbow isn’t a color,” Sukuna says flatly, “it’s a bunch of colors at once—”

“Can you let the kid live, you asshole?” You pinch your nose, glaring at him for what feels like the hundredth time tonight.

Sukuna only grins. A smug, amused, victorious little grin as he chuckles lowly. You almost want to smack the look of his face—but first, you need to figure out the hell is so funny in the first place.

“Sweetheart,” he drawls, “you’re such a bad influence, y’know. No cursin’ in front’a kids. Or at the table.”

His grin only widens when he catches the empty takeout box you throw at him, throwing his head back and cackling as you huff in agitation.

“You’re the bad influence,” you snap, “if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t lose my temper enough to say that.”

“I like when you’re mad,” he grins slyly, eyeing you up and down as he crosses his arms, “makes you look cute. Like a little kitten hissing, y’know.”

“Enough of you,” you shake your head, turning back to Yuuji. It’s too much trouble (and stress) to go back and forth with Sukuna, so you let him smugly count this as a victory as you quit entertaining him. “Did you like the fish, Yuuji? Were they big?”

“Uh huh!” He nods enthusiastically. And then, with a stubby little tiny finger, he points to the phone in Sukuna’s hand. “Uncle Kuna took pictures!”

Sukuna pauses. You slowly turn to him—and this time, it’s your face that stretches to fit a wide, smug, satisfied little grin.

“Is that so? Uncle Kuna was enjoying himself to take pictures of you, huh?”

“I wasn’t,” he instantly hisses, “I had to because the kid begged me to. He was askin’ for it—”

“We took a selfie! Wanna see?”

“I would love to, Yuuji,” you nod quickly, eyeing the pure horrified look on your boyfriend’s face as Yuuji climbs out of his chair, waddling to his uncle and gently grabbing the phone out of his hands.

It looks practiced. Like he’s used to getting away with taking it just as much as Sukuna is used to letting him. You fight back a wider smile at the thought.

And just like that, Yuuji opens up the photos in his uncle’s phone. (It’s not lost on you that he knows the passcode, either, but you think you’ll tease Sukuna about that later. The poor guy can only handle so much in one sitting, and you do have at least a little mercy on your boyfriend.)

“This is the shark,” Yuuji tilts the phone so you can get a good look, shaky grip on the large screen that’s held in his tiny hands. You cup your hand behind his, helping him secure his hold before letting him swipe with a chubby finger and point once more. “And this is me! With the shark!”

“How cute,” you giggle, poking his nose, “you look so handsome.”

“And this is me and Uncle Kuna. Look at me, I was tall!”

Yuuji swipes and you pause. You’d like to say you want to tease Sukuna about this one, too, but really, you can’t. Not when your heart is too busy melting and bursting at the seams. Your eyes soften as you carefully take the phone in your hands and zoom in.

“Seriously? You don’t gotta zoom in,” you hear a gruff voice scoff, but you’re too busy admiring the precious sight documented in the form of pixels.

Yuuji is sat on Sukuna’s shoulders, happily grinning as his chubby fists grip at Sukuna’s hair. And Sukuna…well, Sukuna is smiling. It’s a faint, barely-there little thing, but it’s there all the same.

He’s got one hand securely wrapped around his nephew’s ankle, keeping him in place, while the other holds the phone to take the picture.

You just barely keep yourself from squealing.

“How adorable,” you breathe, “my two cutest boys in one photo! Let me send this to myself.”

“Don’t even think about—”

Sukuna rubs his temples as you ignore his warning, watching as your thumb makes quick work to send yourself the sweet little picture. The buzz of your phone on the table confirms his worst nightmare.

“That’ll be my new lock screen,” you beam at Yuuji, poking the tip of his nose as he giggles. “Did you have fun with Uncle Kuna? Isn’t he really nice when he wants to be?”

Yuuji nods instantly, his face filled with awe as he says gleefully, “Uncle Kuna is the nicest!”

You grin at Sukuna. He scoffs and looks away—the faintest traces of blush dust his cheeks and his eyes dart to Yuuji for a brief, fleeting second.

You don’t miss the soft, fond little gleam in his eyes before he glares over at you.

“Make sure ya don’t pick a day to babysit the runt again when you’re not here,” he mutters, “I’m not here to play parent.”

“Okay,” you nod, fighting back a knowing smile, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Baby Yuuji and Uncle Kuna are very special to me. You don’t get it

[stevesjockstrap]

Rockstar!Eddie trying to convince their kid that he’s the better choice to take to school for Career Day than Steve, Bakery owner.

He even tries to sell them on Aunt Nancy who is a world famous reporter or Aunt Robin who is a code breaker at the Pentagon. Or Uncle Will who illustrates their favorite books.

Steve brings out a tray of cookies to the dining room table and the kid gets stars in their eyes at him, “But Daddy makes cookies!”

“Yeah, you do have a point, love,” as he is picking up a cookie himself.

“It worked on you, didn’t it?” Steve grins.

“That it did, sugar dumpling, that it did,” he said wryly, pulling Steve to him and kissing him hard.

“Eewwwww, Dad!”

[chirpycloudyrobin]

lmao crack au where wei wuxian is actually wen ruohan's biological nephew through cangse-sanren.

cssr and wrh as twins separated from childhood when baoshan-sanren picked cssr up and brought her to her mountain, while wrh grew up as the next wen sect leader.

wrh remains twitchy and angsty abt his missing twin sister until she shows up out of nowhere for the lan sect's lectures. he tries to drag her back home but cssr values her freedom too much and beats him up for it. wrh, who values power over anything else, goes "aight fair enough i respect that but at least visit and send me letters tf". cssr's "like sure wtv just keep ur nose outta my business" and they have the world's most normal twin sibling dynamic.

wrh judges cssr's choice in husband regularly but he's smart enough not to badmouth wei changze where cssr can hear.

"talk shit abt my husband and im shoving you where the sun doesnt shine. i know where u live" "goddamn. fine, woman, chill"

oddly enough, wrh is one of the first to see baby wei ying and his first impression is "that dumpling's ugly as hell" and he gets beat up by cssr again.

despite what wrh says, he becomes a tad bit of the paranoid uncle/brother and gets wen cultivators to- ahem - monitor the wei family while they travel around and bc of that wcz and cssr are saved from death at the last minute and wwx isnt rendered an orphan yay ! cssr's pissed tho bc now wrh has something to blackmail her with and thats not slay

idk where else im going with this but yes, completely normal absolutely sane twins wrh and cssr. thats all

[celestialvoid-fanfiction]

Imagine what Peter would have been like with Erica. Peter likes Lydia because she had the strength and isn’t afraid to give his sass and snark in return. Erica would be the same. She doesn’t care if he’s a former Alpha or that he’s Derek’s uncle, if he starts acting up, she’s quick to put him in his place.

And Peter never seems to get mad at her. Maybe because he admires her courage and strength, maybe because he sees a part of himself in her (the social outcast who was hurt—him with the fire and her with her epilepsy that nearly killed her). Maybe it’s the fact that she reminds him of Laura.

Imagine Peter not knowing how to be ‘nice’, but there are little things he does to show how he feels: bringing Erica a glass of water, saving the last dumpling when the pack is having takeout and giving it to her, rushing to her side of the pack is attacked, helping her to her feet during training, sitting with her when the full moons get rough.

[bratzforchris]

could you do some uncle!nick hcs and how he would be with matt and chris’s kids??

Uncle Nick

Uncle!Nick headcanons because we just KNOW that man would be the most fun uncle ever<3 No warnings!

✬ nick is genuinely so supportive of his brothers' decision to have children

✬ whenever matt or chris and their parent need help with the kids, he's always there

✬ because he is the oldest triplet, nick has a lot of experience with kids and being responsible

✬ so protective of his nieces and nephews

✬ "someone's picking on you at school? tell them they have a void for a forehead"

✬ nick is absolutely his nieces and nephew's "yes man". whatever matt and chris say no to, he'll say yes to (within reason of course)

✬ he always makes sure each kid gets quality time with him, because he knows that that can be hard to come by when there's multiple siblings

✬ christmas with uncle nick is absolutely insane. he spoils matt and chris's babies

✬ nick always makes sure that his nieces and nephews know they can always talk to him about anything

✬ he genuinely loves matt and chris's kids like his own

✬ nick is definitely a pet parent and the kids absolutely love playing with them

tags ♡: @aemrsy @jake-and-johnnies-slut @mattsfavwh3re @suyqa @chrissturnswife @mbsbaby @herxyz @ilovejohnnieg @lovingchrissposts @bitchydragonparadise @dumpling-to-eat @ilydeaky @soggyslugg169 @not-phone-guy @books0fever @stingerayyy2 @strnluvr @sunsetsturniolos @mimi-luvzyu @mayhem-72 @faygo-frog @oobleoob @idek3000hi @runasvengence

note ♡: if you'd like to be added to my taglist, click here <3

[arashixyarts]

Arashi it's me your rich uncle (it's mumb NKSJD) can we have a crowley as a dumpling? xoxoxoxo

NOT MY RICH UNCLE GET AWAYY /lhj

ANYWAYS not entirely sure what “as a dumpling” entails so here :3 (+bonus dumpling masterclass)

[astraysimp]

𓆩⟡𓆪Hello hello! It’s 9mitm Friday! It’s our dumpling boy’s turn and man…..this one challenged me. My brain was working hard trying to figure out and plan this fic. LMAO, I enjoyed the challenge and hope you guys enjoy this chapter! XOXO

𓆩⟡𓆪Summary: For as long as you could remember–once your cousins and siblings had found partners, got married and had kids- your family always asked when it was going to be your turn. You hated it, seeing as it got brought up at every family function, but when you and Hyunjin announced your ‘relationship’ last year they shut up….but they still asked about kids…..until you and Hyune showed up with your baby in tow

𓆩⟡𓆪Warnings: fake dating(to real dating) trope, FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF, reader’s family is kinda annoying, you and Hyun have kept your baby a secret(no ill intentions), fem!reader, petnames, if my math of baby’s age doesn’t line actually make sense please pretend it does :D

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Ah, Christmas dinner with your family. You loved it….but you also dreaded it. Aunts, uncles, cousins, your siblings, your parents, grandparents all asked when you were going to find a boyfriend, when you were going to get married, when you were going to have kids. It annoyed you to no end. That was until last year when Hyunjin had suggested that you two ‘date’ to shut them up. So, you did, appearing at your family’s Christmas dinner hand in hand.

“Wah, our y/n finally got herself a boyfriend!”

“Finally! She’s not single anymore!”

“A boyfriend?! Oh my god, you brought your boyfriend?!”

“When did you meet?!”

“How long have you been together?!”

“He’s so handsome! Where did you meet him?!”

That was all you heard, until you heard the “so, when are you having kids?” You and Hyunjin hadn’t known what to say, heck your ‘relationship’ was only a show, to shut them up. So, you didn’t answer, telling them, “oh, it’ll be a while.”

It ,in fact, was not a little while. You and Hyunjin had baby Iseul only 9 months later. But, opted not to tell your family, due to wanting to soak up and bask in your new lives as parents.

That brought you to now.

Currently, it was Christmas day and you were getting Iseul ready to go to your family’s Christmas dinner. You were already dressed, wearing a red dress, the skirt sparsely covered in gold sequins, a pair of nylon tights on your legs, a pair of delicate black heels on your feet. You curled your hair, tying half of it up with a bow, your makeup already done– brown and gold eyeshadow accentuated your eyes, blank eyeliner elongating them and ruby red lipstick gracing your plump lips.

Tonight, you and Hyunjin were going to introduce Iseul to your family.

A lot in both yours and Hyunjin’s lives had changed. Your( what started as a fake) relationship had blossomed into a real relationship, you had Iseul 5 months ago, you lived together, he gave you a promise ring, you met his family. Oh, did I mention, you had a baby 5 months ago? Because you did, and her name is Iseul. She is a dream, not fussy, has Hyunjin’s pouty lips, and doesn't cry a lot. You and Hyunjin love her, actually love is too weak a word.

Smiling, you looked down to see Iseul trying to put her foot in her mouth. Laughing, you gently held her legs in your hands, sliding a pair of tights onto her chubby legs. “Hi, my dewdrop. Are you so excited? You get to meet your grandma and grandpa, and your aunts and uncles?” You giggled, as Iseul held her arms and legs up. She giggled as you tickled her belly, high pitched squeals and giggles erupting through the room. Her laugh was one of your favorite things about her, the way she so effortlessly lit up your life with her giggle. Grabbing the dress from beside you, you carefully slid it over her head and put her arms through the sleeves.

My first Christmas

The dress read, across its velvet red fabric, white letters spelling out the words.There was soft fur, along the hem, neckline and sleeves. She looked too cute. Sliding a pair of matching socks over her feet, you smiled and tied her soft baby hair in a ponytail and added a bow. “Oh look at my baby girl! My baby girl is so cute! Should we show appa how cute you are?” You smiled, and gently picked her up, holding her on your hip, as you pointed in the mirror. “There she is! There’s my dewdrop!” You smiled, bouncing her on your hip as she giggled. “Let’s show appa, yeah?!”

Speaking of her appa– Hyunjin– where is he?

You,nor Hyunjin, could exactly remember when your ‘fake’ relationship turned into you actually dating. Was it when the two of you were relaxing on the couch of your shared apartment, his arms around your shoulders and your head on his chest? “We have to make our relationship look real, honey love.” He would tell you.

Maybe

Was it when he made you heart shaped chocolate chip pancakes, for Valentine’s Day? “Happy Valentine’s Day, mumma,” he whispered in your ear. His soft yet calloused hands cradling your cheek, trying to wake you peacefully, where you laid in bed. “Morning, honey oat,” you sleepily grumbled. Your eyes slowly fluttering open to see a tray of breakfast— those exact heart shaped chocolate chip pancakes, strawberries cut into hearts, a glass of orange juice and a croissant— percheched on your bed, with Hyune sitting against the headrest. “Made you breakfast, for you and the baby.” He blushed, smiling down at your half awake form.

Perhaps

Was it when you were at your 20 week ultrasound, finding out that you would be having a baby girl and the nurse beamed at you, congratulating you with a “congratulations Mr and Mrs Hwang”

Mr and Mrs.Hwang

You couldn’t remember. Your lives bled into one another seamlessly, the line between real dating and your fake show relationship seeming to disappear. It was easy. Easy as breathing. Sure, ever since you had become friends with the tall boy, you had pictured and thought of dating him. Wondered how his pillow soft and ever so plush lips would feel against your own; how it would feel to be held against his chest as he sang you to sleep at night. The thoughts always lingered in your brain, somewhere in the back. But, you never would have imagined for him to suggest putting on a show relationship to quiet your family’s ever persistent questioning.

Sure, you had also seen Hyunjin interact with babies, over your times as friends. And did it make you wonder about what it would be like to have a child with him? Yes, you weren’t going to deny it. Again, you never would have guessed it to become a reality. But, it was your reality. You and Hyunjin… sharing an apartment, welcome home kisses, having a baby shower, him healing you through. Your pregnancy.

He was there through it all, every step, milestone, doctor’s appointment. He was there. He had even picked out her name, Iseul. “I like Iseul, love. It means dewdrop. Our own little dewdrop,” He muttered, his large hand rubbing against your bump, as you two were laying in bed, one night.

Her nursery theme was his idea, as well. Themes of soft powder blue and a crème color flourishing against the walls. Hyunjin picked out each piece of furniture, as long as you approved of it, assembled them and built the nursery, filling it with his love. One of his, and your, favorite things was the mural that Hyunjin has painted. It was a picture of the sky, clouds gracing the ceiling with rain falling down, but in the spaces between the raindrops, was her name…

Iseul

Grabbing Iseul’s shoes and snow suit(one of those full body padded baby onesies) you headed towards your and Hyunjin’s shared bedroom? “Where’s appa, Iseul? Hm, where did appa go?” You pondered, seeing as he wasn’t in your bedroom, and the master bathroom light was off.

Where could he have gone? You thought to yourself, as you made your way downstairs, your heels clicking against the hardwood floor. “Hyune? Hyunnie? Babe, where’d you go,are you ready?” You called out, entering the living room.

Then, you saw him– and damn, did he look good. His ebony hair was slicked back, a tailored Versace pair of slacks along his legs, a festive yet classy Versace crewneck on his torso, paired with a gold watch and shiny, black sleek dress shoes on his feet.

Damn, I’m lucky

He was preparing Iseul’s stroller, making sure a blanket was safely tucked in it, to make sure she was warm and had the baby bag sitting on the floor nearby. “Look, dew drop, there’s appa!” You smiled, as she giggled and kicked her feet in your hold.

“Oh! There my girls are! Hi my loves, don’t you two look so pretty?” Hyunjin smiled, turning around at your voice and seeing you standing there. Making his way over to you, he planted a kiss on your lips and Isuel’s forehead, before taking her into his arms. “My baby’s first Christmas! Are you excited, pumpkin!?” He smiled, as Iseul squished her small chubby hands on his cheeks, happy squeals and giggles leaving her mouth. “I think she is, huh dewdrop?” You smiled, adjusting her dress, before you adjusted the red bow in her hair.

Turning to you, Hyunjin smiled and kissed the crown of your head. “ I need to load the gifts and stroller into the car. Think you’ll be okay getting her ready while I do that, hon?” He asked, as you smiled with a nod. “I got it, babe. Go get everything settled,” you patted his butt lightly, taking Iseul back into your arms. With a nod of his head, Hyunjin put his long trench coat on, and grabbed the stroller and baby bag, slinging it over his stroller, “I’ll warm up the car, while I’m out there, honey!” He called, making his way into the cold night air, popping the trunk open and setting the stroller and baby bag inside.

Meanwhile, in the house, you had slid your own matching trench coat on and fastened its buttons, before setting Iseul on the couch, humming as you laid the opened baby snow suit on the cushions. “Let’s get my dew drop bundled up,” you cooed, gently booping her nose. Carefully, you laid her against the back portion of the jacket, settling her legs and arms in their respective sleeves. “One foot, and another foot and you’re all in!” You giggled, zipping up the zipper. Hyunjin had since reentered, to grab your load of presents, before leaning down to plant a kiss to yours and Iseul’s heads. “Look at my little dewdrop! You look so warm, did mommy dress you up?” He smiled as she kicked her feet, before he went to load the presents into the car.

Taking one of her shoes into your hands, you gently slid it on her foot, clasping the buckle shut. “One foot,” You smiled as she waved her arms around, looking up at you. “And one more foot,” you giggled, repeating the process with her other shoe. Picking her up, you grabbed your keys, phone and bag and made your way to the door. Turning the lights off, Hyunjin took Iseul to buckle her into her carseat. “Ready to go, my loves?”

The drive was about an hour and a half , to your parents’ house. Iseul had managed to fall asleep, and you couldn’t blame her, traffic causing a 30 minute delay. Cars bumping back to back, you had barely moved an inch. You weren’t shocked when you turned from your spot in the passenger seat, to see a sleeping Iseul on her car seat.

Driving during the holidays sucked.

But, you managed to make it, and once you pulled into the familiar driveway of your parents’ home, you smiled. Unbuckling your seat belt, you went to the trunk, grabbing the gift bags. You, carefully, made your way into the house, to be greeted by smiles and warm hugs. But, outside, Hyunjin was grabbing the stroller, setting a still sleeping baby Iseul in it, and the rest of the gifts.

“Hi,everyone! We’re here!”

Your parents rushed over to you, pulling you into their warm embrace. “Hi, love, so nice to see you! Where is that lovely boyfriend of yours?” Your mom asked, noticing Hyunjin wasn’t by your side. “He’s out bringing the rest of the gifts(and our baby) in,” You laughed, turning to hug your dad. “Hi sweetheart, how are you?” Your dad asked, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m good, how are you, dad?” You smiled, walking to the living room, after shrugging your jacket and shoes off, exchanging them for house slippers.

“Hi, yn!”

“Hey, where’s Hyunjin?!”

“Ynnie! So good to see you!”

Everyone called out their greetings and you smiled, giving them all a hug after you placed the presents under the, already full, tree. “He’s on his way in, we have a lot of presents to bring!” You laughed out.

You heard him before you saw him. Smiling, you could hear the wheels locking on the stroller as he was taking his jacket and shoes off. Any minute now and everyone would be in for a big surprise.

“Hello, hello! I’m here!”

And there he was. But, not only him, he came pushing the stroller in, Iseul still asleep, the soft blanket laid over her body. “And, we have a guest!”

“Is that a-”

“A stroller….a baby?!”

“When did you two have a baby?!”

“A grandbaby, oh my gosh!”

Needless to say, everyone was surprised, shocked, taken aback, confused. You laughed, as Hyunjin took Iseul out of her stroller and sat next to you. “Yep, a baby. Baby Iseul,” you smiled, seeing her stir awake. Gently, you tucked the soft fleece blanket around her body, ensuring her pacifier was shut in her mouth. But, they could also see a ring on your finger.

“What-“

“When?!”

“How old is she?!”

“What’s her name?!”

“Is that a ring?!”

Laughing, you looked over at Hyunjin, seeing him rocking Iseul in his arms. “Wow, lots of questions. But! I have answers!” You giggled, settling yourself against Hyunjin’s side, as he placed a kiss on your temple. “So, to start, her name is Iseul and she’s 5 months old. Uh, we found out we were having her after last Christmas,” You breathed out, as Hyunjin nodded. Clearing his throat, he looked toward you. “We weren’t expecting or planning on having her. She was like our own Christmas present, he laughed, “but, we really love being parents.”

“Why haven’t we met or seen her yet?” Your mom asked, curious as to what took you and Hyunjin so long to bring your baby around. Nodding your head, you smiled as Iseul was slowly stirring from her sleep. “Honestly, we just wanted to bask in having her to herself, for a while, before we brought her around everyone. Becoming parents was a change, a big one, so we wanted to soak it i, have our own memories built and just get to love on her.” You breathed out, hearing a soft whimper coming from Iseul. Hyunjin smiled and nodded, “there is absolutely no ill intentions. We just wanted to be able to soak in the new parenthood love and enjoy her to ourselves.” You both smiled, before Isuel’s whimpers turned into cries, she was hungry. “Excuse me, I think we have a hungry baby on our hands,”Hyunjin smiled, rising from his seat on the couch to grab a premade bottle from the baby bag and go to the kitchen to warm it.

It was true and you and Hyunjin loved the 5 months you had Iseul to yourselves. From the moment she was born, she had her appa wrapped around her finger. Iseul was born early in the morning,2:23 to be exact. You remember Hyunjin crying, as she was placed on your chest, her head covered in soft black hair. She has his lips, and nose but your eyes. She was—and still is— his greatest accomplishment.

Month 1 brought a lot of changes. A new sleep —if you can even call it that— schedule for you and Hyunjin, lots of waking up at the break of dawn for nightly feeds, lots of diapers and dirty clothes. But, also lots of smiles, smiles shared with each other and smiles shared with Iseul. Lots of baby giggles, gummy smiles and big brown eyes.

With each month, your hearts only grew, watching as her personality developed. She was a daddy’s girl, through and through. Loving to be held and sang to by Hyunjin. He loved to hold her small body to his bare chest. Looking up at him, her big brown eyes blinking, easily growing tired throughout the day. “It must be tiring being so cute,” he cooed to her, kissing her small forehead. Hyunjin had fallen asleep in the rocking chair by the crib many times. “Want to make sure she’s okay, honey love,” he’d tell you, a tired yawn falling from his lips. She was, and always will be safe, but he needed to be sure. But, luckily Iseul always slept through the night, easily.

By month 5, Iseul learned to hold a crayon. Thanks to Hyunjin. You would come home to see them in the kitchen seated at the dining table, coloring. But, your favorite sights were seeing them cuddling. It warmed your heart. You also loved watching Hyunjin feed her. It was such a mundane task, but it was the cutest thing to see. Iseul would be seated in her high chair, Hyunjin sat in front of her, and he’d swirl the spoon in front of her. “Here comes the plane,” he would say with a sing-songy lilt in his voice. Her small pouty lips would enclose the spoon and her face would scrunch up, mimicking the way Hyunjin’s own face would pout when he ate. “She definitely is your daughter, honey bear.” You would giggle out, as he used the spoon to wipe the baby food from around her mouth.

Returning from the kitchen, Hyunjin sat on the couch, a warm bottle of breastmilk nustled between Iseul’s mouth, as she fed. “I’m back, and she is less fussy,” he chuckled, knowing a full tummy would calm her down. It was true. Iseul only became fussy when hungry or tired.But, the drive from your apartment to your parents’s house had her well rested. Your cousin had peeped up. “So, there’s a ring on yn’s finger. When did that happen?” She smiled, pointing to the delicate stoned balanced between prongs and snugly set on a delicate band. “Oh that?” Hyunjin laughed, carefully handing you a now empty bottle, before softly patting Iseul’s back. “It’s a promise ring, a promise to never give up on yn or Iseul, and to always be here, no matter how hard it gets…..It’s also a promise to make her my wife,one day. Almost like a placeholder ring until then.” He smiled, as you carefully took Iseul into your arms.

Cradling her to your chest, you and Hyunjin exchanged soft eyes and loving smiles. “Well, we’re really happy for the both of you.” Your dad chimed in, patting Hyunjin on the shoulder. “Thank you. We’re really happy,too.” Hyunjin smiled, his eyes watching as you rocked your baby in your arms, looking down to her with matching eyes. The world around you,Hyunjin and Iseul, seemed to disappear. It was only the three of you. Looking back up , you saw Hyunjin watching you. Smiling, you gently blew him a kiss. Which he gladly caught and pressed to his heart, before sending two— one for you and one for the baby— your way.

“Time to eat! Dinner is ready!”

Maybe, family Christmas dinners weren’t so bad after all. But maybe that's because you had Hyunjin and Iseul. Or, maybe because you wouldn’t be questioned anymore. Standing up, you hold Iseul in your arms, walking to the dining room, Hyunjin following you.

Dinner time

ೃ⁀➷Please do not steal,translate,repost(on any platform), modify, paraphrase or in any way claim my worksೃ⁀➷AStraySimp 2023ೃ⁀➷

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[firelordsfirelady]

XXIII. The Necklace

Author: @firelordsfirelady

Imagine: When Y/N—a princess of one of the Water Tribes—is told she’s leaving her tribe, she never expects that she’s to be betrothed to the Fire Lord’s son, nor was she prepared to be exiled the very day she arrived at the Fire Nation. With her life in the hands of her new fiancée, how will life change for the princess? 

Pairing: Zuko x F!Reader

Trigger warnings: arranged marriage, feelings of fear, banishment, mentions of burns/abuse, frustration, violence, betrayal, language

Word Count: 1427

Destined to be Yin and Yang 

I own no rights to Avatar the Last Airbender or any of the characters/story. 

Author’s Notes

The characters as all aged up so Zuko’s banishment happens when he’s 16 

Keep in mind I am bringing a unique world with inspiration from ATLA in their characters, some of the events that happen, bending, etc. Not many things may align or occur with what happened in the show. It’s intended that way, so I hope you enjoy it regardless.

See Y/N’s inspiration here. 

Destined to be Yin and Yang Soundtrack (YouTube)

A few weeks later, Zuko and  I were in the middle of a training session when the sudden turning of the ship threw Zuko and I onto the ground with a loud thud. Zuko let out a soft groan as his body cushioned my landing. Both of our cheeks turned red at how close our faces were before we both scrambled to stand up. Zuko avoided looking at me as he stormed off towards the captain’s cabin as he complained about no one ordering a change of course. Quickly following behind him, I followed him into the steering room where Iroh sat at a pai sho game table. The gentleman all looked at the checkered boxes on the table and moved circular wooden tiles with painted symbols around to various spots.

“No one told you to change course.” Zuko angrily said to the captain as he approached.

“Actually,” Iroh said as he studied the tiles on the table in front of him. “Someone did.” I casually leaned against the wall by the door as Zuko turned around to look at his older uncle. “I can assure you that it is a matter of importance.”

“There’s news of the Avatar?” Zuko’s question sounded hopeful as Iroh stroked the beard on his chin while he pondered his next move. 

“I fear it is even more urgent than that.” I felt my own eyebrow raise at the older firebender’s statement as Iroh looked to the Prince. “You see--” Iroh sighed heavily as he clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth. “I’ve lost my lotus tile.” I let out a chuckle as Iroh slide a tile across the board and Zuko looked deflated.

“Lotus tile?” He asked and Iroh nodded towards the game on the table.

“Everyone underestimates the power of the lotus tile in pai sho because they often deem it insignificant.” Iroh slide another tile on the board as he spoke. “However, it is essential for the unusual strategy I use.” 

“So, let me get this straight,” Zuko started in a calm manner, “You changed our course…” The fire prince took a deep breath before he continued. “For a stupid lotus tile?” I laughed at the exchange between the two firebenders before I smiled at Zuko’s angry stance.

“A ten minute trip to the merchant stalls won’t harm anything. Who knows, maybe there will be some news of the Avatar.” I shrugged as Zuko let out a breath of fire towards the ceiling, and Iroh laughed.

“I’m glad someone appreciates the value of the lotus tile.” Iroh threw a wink my way as I lightly chuckled at Zuko.

“Lucky are you, Iroh, to have such a compassionate nephew.” I threw a wink towards Zuko before I left the room as Zuko’s cheeks turned red and Iroh belly laughed with the men around the table.

Zuko begrudgingly accompanied Iroh and I as we arrived at the port to browse the merchant stalls. I slipped away from the Firebenders as Iroh gushed over some musical instruments at one of the stands. Iroh had given me some money to buy whatever my heart desired, and I was on a mission for a couple of things: sea prawn dumpling soup ingredients and art supplies. I easily and quickly moved through the stalls and admired some of the unique items the merchant city had to offer.

Although Zuko may not see the joy in the situation, I was thoroughly enjoying the sights, sounds, and smells of the world I wouldn’t have been able to experience otherwise without the circumstances of Zuko’s banishment. As I browsed the various shops, I noticed a necklace haphazardly tossed to the side of one of the shops. I gingerly picked it up as the blue ribbon told me it belonged to a waterbender.

I thought back to the girl from a Water Tribe that was traveling with the Avatar, and I tucked it into my front pouch to show Zuko when I caught up with him. Five minutes later, I was curiously looking at a new dress when rough hands grabbed me and interrupted my browsing. Something sharp poking into my side stopped any protest I was about to make.

“Thought you could get away with stealing from me?” A rough voice said as the sharp object poked more into my side. “Any word from you and I’ll gut you right here.” The male voice growled in my ear as rough hands grabbed my wrists and began guiding me away from the stall and towards an interesting looking building nearby. I was roughly shoved through the door where the occupants all turned to look at us as I was roughly held by my bicep..

“I caught the thief.” The voice of the man holding me said as he shoved me towards one of the other men in the building. “Came back for her necklace.”  I fell to my knees in front of the man with the brimmed hat. The braid I had worked diligently to put in my hair was roughly gripped by the man in front of me as he used it to slightly lift me up.

“Tell me what you and that bald headed thief did with my scroll.” He growled as he tightened his grip on my braid. I bit back the yelp of pain that threatened to come from my lips.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I hissed out the honest words, but the grip in my hair tightened to force my head slightly to the right.

“Did the bald kid have arrow tattoos?” I recognized Zuko’s voice as the grip on my hair tightened some more and I couldn’t hide the wince of pain from my face.

“And if he did?” The older man spat as he lifted me higher to get a better look at me. “That kid and those two waterbenders stole my scroll, and I want it back.” He growled as I yelped from the uncomfortable vice the man had on my braid.

“She’s not the Waterbender that was with the kid.” Zuko growled with clenched fists. “We are after the kid with the arrow tattoos. I think we can help each other here.”

“That doesn’t explain why—“ I was brought to look this man in his eyes. “—she’s got the necklace of the Waterbender.”

“I—“ I cleared my voice to try and make the words come out evenly. “I found it. I thought it looked familiar.” The huff the man let out smelt horrible to my nostrils as the man suddenly let my hair got and I fell harshly to the ground at his feet.

“They stole a scroll from us that we want back.” The man turned his attention to the firebender with clenched fists standing nearby. “We get the scroll and you can have the other three.”

“We just want the bald one.” Zuko growled as I stood up and brushed myself off. A rough hand wrapped tightly around my wrist to prevent me from walking away.

“You’re not going anywhere.” The man growled as he pulled me to stand next to him. “Once we have the scroll, you can have her back.” My eyes widened slightly as I looked at Zuko’s steady amber eyes as he coldly stared at the pirate’s hand tightly holding my wrist. 

“I’m going to need the necklace.” Zuko’s tone was even as he flickered his eyes to briefly look at me, but I couldn’t quite read the emotion his golden orbs had as they looked at me. 

“It’s in the front pouch.” I said and the firebender nodded as he approached then opened the pouch and gently grabbed the necklace. I didn’t say anything as he gave me a small nod before he pulled away and turned on his heel. Iroh gave me an apologetic smile as he turned to follow the younger firebender. I swallowed the fear in my throat as I was alone with a group of pirates, and I boldly met anyone who dared to look at me.

Following them to their small sailboat, I was surprised and relieved to find a smaller Fire Nation ship heading towards the ship I was being led to. The captain motioned for me to follow as he climbed onto the Fire Nation ship, where we met Zuko as he stood on the deck. Both of the men stared at each other with a distrustful stare as the ships began to move. I took a seat on the edge of the boat as we started traveling down the river.

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[rhey-007]

Driving Home For Christmas

Pierre Gasly x reader || snippet (?) / short story

Summary: Pierre and Yuki got stuck and arrived late to the Christmas Eve making you mad. At least the kids were happy that Santa came.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, family fluff, female reader, wife reader, mom reader, dad Pierre, husband Pierre

A/N: Just a short story I had in mind :)) Also let me know if I can even call it a snippet or a one shot cause idk ://

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚🎄˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

"We're so fucking late... "

Pierre whined hitting his head against the steering wheel, impatient honks leaving the car as they waited in traffic. It was supposed to be just a quick trip to the store to finish up buying present but turned into a shopping spree when Pierre couldn't find anything special for you, instead buying a couple of gifts. When he and Yuki left the mall centre the traffic started to form on the streets and they were fucked.

"Where are you? "

You asked them through the phone as you prepared the Christmas table along Mr. Gasly.

"You were supposed to be back home an hour ago! "

You whisper shouted as to not startle your kids that impatiently awaited their father's and uncle's comeback.

"I know honey, I know... But there was so many people and such long queues that when we left we drove straight into traffic... I promise we'll make it"

Pierre assured you at which Yuki just shook his head. There was no way they were going to make it on time. And they still had to have a few minutes to change into their costumes, as Pierre promised your 3 and 5 year olds that Santa and his elf assistant will visit them just as every year.

"I hope so... Cause if you make kids mad then you can prepare yourself for sleeping on the couch"

You hissed angrily before hanging up.

"I told him to finish it up a few days ago so he would have plenty time to help us today, but of course he didn't listen"

Your father said walking into the kitchen, Pierre's dad agreeing.

"He never did, never does and never will listen"

The older man added. As much as you appreciate their boths company and help, you wished they would drop the topic.

2 hours later Pierre and Yuki were finally by your apartment, changing their clothes in an elevator to soon burst into the flat.

"Ho Ho Ho! Are here some good kids or did we got the wrong floor! "

Gasly's Santa voice sounded through the whole house, making the kids run to the door and hug Santa immediately. The man picked them both up then the four entered the dining room.

"Mommy! Mommy! Look who's here! "

Laura, your 5 year old daughter, shouted happily almost ruining her father's ear.

"Sorry we're late... We tried... "

Yuki whispered to you as you helped him put the presents under the tree.

"It's okay, my husband's the only one to blame"

Hearing you call Pierre 'your husband' instead of just his name, Yuki knew the Frenchman was screwed...

"Santa! "

Your 3 years old son Leo responded to his older sister before their father placed them down and greeted you.

"You're late... "

"I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you"

He proceeded to kiss your cheek but you pushed pass him and entered the kitchen, to soon come back with a hot pot of borscht and dumplings.

The kids unwrapped their presents happily with Santa's help, as the rest of you finally ate.

"Whe daddy? "

Leo asked, looking up at Pierre wit his big blue eyes.

"He'll come soon. Just as uncle Yuki. Now, give Santa one last hug as Santa and my elf friend have to go visit other kids"

The two hugged him once again while your father took triliard photos, then occupied them while Yuki and Pierre changed.

"Finally... "

The Japanese sighed in relief as he put on his normal clothes.

"You have no idea how itchy that costume was..."

"I imagine"

You chuckled quietly as they came back to the room.

At the end of the day everyone was happy with how the Christmas Eve came out. Even you, although you didn't show it being a little mad at Pierre.

"Pierre"

You warned as you felt him hug you from behind after walking out of the bathroom.

"Don't think you'll get anything after today"

You hissed at which he shook his head.

"I don't expect anything. Just wanted to say sorry. I know I should have done it a long time ago but I just lacked time... I'm sorry... Please don't make me sleep on the couch... "

The man made puppy eyes at you, a trick he learned from your kids. You sighed heavily spinning around and facing him.

"I wasn't going to. But please... Next time be prepared way earlier so I wouldn't have to stress out so much okay?"

"Okay"

"You don't even have an idea how crushed they looked when you were late. I almost cried if it wasn't for our dads to occupy them"

You admitted laying down under the covers. Pierre quickly put on his pajama and joined you, pulling you close to himself and stealing a kiss.

"I can only imagine... I'm sorry once again"

[stormsandfoes]

A Slow Descent

Thomas Hewitt/ Original Female Character

A retelling of TCM: The Beginning focusing more on Thomas' descent to madness, but with a bit of romance.

Chapter tags: Monologuing, Thomas POV

Author Note: This will be a very, very slow burn. Please pay attention to chapter tags, just in case you have any triggers.

Chapter One: The house with the red walls.

It’s on his way home that Thomas notices that the house on the corner of the path is no longer empty.

He’s frustrated, no matter how many times he goes back to the Slaughterhouse, he finds the door sealed shut, the gates at the back chained close.  He doesn’t know how to read that well, but he knows that as long as the sign stays up, he’s not supposed to come back.

Momma told him that morning that he was just wasting his time- getting up so early and walking all the way across town for a job that he no longer had. But what else was he supposed to do? For years he had done the exact same thing. He’d wake up, eat the porridge she sometimes made him then made his way over to the Slaughterhouse in the other side of the town. He’d work eight hours, tearing meat from bones- cutting down pigs and beef- whatever they threw at him. He was always the first one in and the last one to leave.

When he got home Momma would kiss him on the cheek and ask him how his day had been, taking the bag of raw meat he managed to scavenge from his hand. She’d send him up to wash up- telling him that dinner would be done soon.

Now she looks at him like he had done something wrong. Like she was mad at him. Sometimes when he pushed open the front door, she wouldn’t even lift her eyes from her knitting.

It hurt, knowing that he made momma so angry that she didn’t want to look at him. He wanted to make her happy again. Maybe if he stood outside long enough, someone would see him, see that he wanted to work. They’d realize that they made a mistake- the barn would open again, and he’d go back to butchering.

It never did though. No one ever came out. No one ever noticed him, waiting.

He was tired by the time he decided to head back home. Angry and sore at once again being ignored. He was hungry- the summer sun stole all his strength. Even if he did nothing but just stand there and wait.

But he knew that there was nothing left at home. Momma had scraped together the last of what they had yesterday- flour dumplings boiled in a broth of scraps. It had done nothing to fill his stomach. Any of theirs. There was nothing waiting for him at home but his bed.

He thinks about turning back and waiting a bit longer. Maybe this was their way of keeping him out, of punishing him for messing up. He was scared that the moment he turned his back on the barn- everyone finally stopped hiding and laughed at him for being an idiot.

They probably didn’t like that he took home the scraps at the end of the day. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to and that’s why they wouldn’t let him come back in. Uncle Charlie had told him that they had closed it down because people in town were getting sick- but what did he know? He spent his days in the middle of town, spending what little money they had. At least that was what momma liked to scream at him when he came home drunk and with empty pockets.

He’s almost tempted to but he wants to go home. Wants to fill his stomach with water- with whatever momma scraped together tonight. He’d stay longer tomorrow. Maybe he could take Charlie’s bolt cutters with him. Even if there was no one inside- there were a few freezers in the barn, maybe he could find something in one of them. Something that would make Momma look at him again.

He's halfway home- the road turning into nothing but a worn-out dirt path that splits into left and right. One side lead into the forest- Momma didn’t want him going that way- while the other side ends at home. Both sides are empty. No one but them live this far out. They had a neighbor at one point, but she ate herself to death. Monty had found her, face down in a plate of biscuits. Momma had been real sad at the news.

There were houses though. Abandoned long before he had been born. He liked to think what it’d be like to have neighbors that would wave at him when he walked by. Or maybe they’d ignored him- act like they were too busy to notice him.

He imagines that the farms in between each of them would make this walk feel less like a chore he had to do and more like a choice- like those people on TV who bragged about how they liked to walk after dinner. But everything around him was dead- shriveled up from the sun that never seemed to want to go away, not even at night. He’s walked this path hundreds of times, he knows that nothing was ever going to change.

It’s for that very reason that he stops as soon as he gets to the fork where the road splits. Before the woods begins to thicken into a dark, twisted mass of dead trees- too far for him to see clearly now that the sun had disappeared and the early darkness of night began to settle, but close enough that he can see just enough- there stands a small, faded red house. He’s looked at it so many times that he’s lost count, but one thing never changed; he never saw anyone come in or out of it. Until now, when he watches a woman pushes past the front door and makes her way to the faded moving van parked on the lawn. He can’t make out a lot of her details, but she has skin darker than his and hair shorter than his. He doesn’t stare for long, as she disappears behind the truck.

He liked the dark. In the dark no one really noticed him. It was like he wasn’t there, liked he was a part of the shadows, the darkness itself. He could stand there and watch, and no one would ever notice him. Like him, the dark made people uncomfortable, they tended not to look at it too much. It’s why he doesn’t hesitate to move closer- steps silent as he finds himself growing curious.

The woman appears again, carrying a bag on her shoulder and a box that’s too heavy for her. He can tell by the way she’s leaning to the side a bit, her steps staggered. She doesn’t hear him as he steps onto her dead yard. No one ever does.

Part of him doesn’t like this- momma said the town was all dried up and there wasn’t anyone but them left, even the Sheriff was packing up and moving North. Kingsland was nothing, had nothing- and he liked that. He liked that it was just them. That maybe this meant that he could finally go out into the town square. He wouldn’t have to worry about anyone else seeing him or calling him those names that he hated.

A smaller, quieter part of him, though, found this exciting. Sometimes he got tired of Charlie and Monty… sometimes even momma was too much. With her shows and her nagging. Sometimes, when he was down in the basement scrubbing his apron or punishing himself for making a mistake- he wanted someone to come down there and tell him that it was okay. That he was okay. He didn’t want momma to do it. Momma had to do it; she was his momma after all. Uncle Monty and Charlie yelled too much, never like everyone else, but he didn’t like it anyways.

He wanted a friend. Like on TV- in those black and white shows Monty watched all the time where no one screamed at each other, and they all ate together at the end of the day. Maybe she could be his friend. Maybe she wouldn’t scream when she looked at him. Momma said that there were people out there that would see him for more than his disease. The people of Kingsland were too simple and small minded to know better. Momma always liked to see the good in people, but sometimes he thought that maybe there wasn’t any good in them to see.

The woman goes into the house- the door creaking shut behind her, but he can see her behind the curtains of the window, bending down and setting a everything down on the ground. If Momma was here with him, she’d tell him to march on over to her door and offer his help- and maybe he should. But he didn’t want to. He just wanted to watch.

It doesn’t take long for the woman to come back outside. Instead of grabbing more things she stands in front of the door and stretches, her arms raising above her before she moves side to side. He finds it funny- how she twists and turns. Just like those women on the exercise shows momma used to watch.

He wanted to get a little closer to her, but if he did, he wouldn’t be able to hide any more. She wasn’t like Charlie- who kept the porch light on at night, worried that someone might try to break in. She kept hers off. Maybe she didn’t know that she was supposed to do that. Didn’t her own momma warn her that the dark was dangerous?

Silly woman. He’d have to warn her next time.

The woman stops her funny little movement- saying something that he can’t hear, before she pushes her hair out of her face. It’s almost as dark as his, sticking to the sweat on her forehead. For a second, she turns, and her eyes meet his. He feels that feeling again- that same one that he used to get when he was forced to go to school even though no one there was nice to him. It’s almost like fear, when his stomach drops, and his heart begins to race in his chest but different in a way he couldn’t describe. But as soon as he meets her eyes she looks away- turning her attention back to the truck and he feels that tension in his shoulders roll down his back.

She hadn’t seen him. Good. He didn’t want her to see him. He would have scared her and then she wouldn’t want to be his friend. The town would take her before he had a chance and she’d be like everyone else- too disgusted to get close.

He waits until she’s back inside the house to turn around and leave- his steps heavy and quick as he makes his way back unto the path before she comes back out. He’d come back tomorrow- maybe he’d even bring momma. Momma could always tell when someone had a kind soul.

He thinks about the woman as he walks home, his hunger forgotten. He thinks about all the things that he’d be able to do with his new friend- all the things he could show her. Teach her.

He wouldn’t have to spend his days in the basement or in his room or in the barn in the back, helping Uncle Monty fix things that were going to die regardless of how hard he tried-knowing that nothing outside was meant for him. Maybe she’d want to go home with him, and he’d get to show her the things he was proud of. Maybe she would invite him over for tea like Momma with her sister. Though he didn’t like the stuff, he already decided that he would drink it for her.

Charlie and Momma are standing on the porch by the time he reaches the house, the sun long gone and the sky pitch black. Momma’s nervous again- he can tell by the way she keeps squeezing her skirt.

“Oh, Tommy,” she says, rushing down the stairs and towards him. “Where in the lords name have you been?” She’s grabbing at him; her hands find his shoulders as she takes a shaky breath. “I was just about to send Charlie over to look for you!” she brings her hands- soft and warm and hard from work all at the same time- to his head. She smooths his hair down before cupping his face- right over the leather mask that he wore whenever he stepped out of his room. “You scared me- had me thinking that you ran off on me.”

He wants to tell her that he would never do that, that he just got distracted. He wanted to tell her about the woman moving into the red house way up the road, but he had never been much for talking- muscles too weak to form anything. Instead, he cups her face the same way she did his- his hands too big and clumsy, almost knocking her glasses off.

Momma seems to relax, nodding her head as if she read his mind. She always seemed to know what he meant. She used to say that he could flex his pinky and she’d know whether that meant he was hungry or tired.

“You can’t be scaring me like that, Tommy. I’m too old, think of my poor heart.” She gives him one last squeeze before pulling away. He drops his hands as well, letting her take a step back and wipe her glasses on her apron. “Go get up on upstairs and freshen up. I’ll warm up your supper.”

The reminder of food makes him realize that all this time his stomach had been twisted into knots. He had filled his head with thoughts of the woman that he had almost forgotten that he didn’t have a job anymore, that there was no food left.

He had been ready to come home to Momma telling him to fill his stomach up with water and head on over to bed. She must have noticed his confusion- how had they gone from having nothing this morning to suddenly having enough to put together supper?

“Monty traded his rifle for some scraps over at the farm… didn’t get a whole lot of them, but its enough to fill our stomachs for a few days if I stretch it right.” Momma’s mouth twisted down as she talked. She never liked begging. Especially begging for food. Said it reminded her of bad times where she did really bad things.

God forgave her though, but maybe his forgiveness only lasted so long?

Charlie scoffed from behind her, rubbing his cigarette on the step he sat at before slipping it into the pocket of his jeans. “Shit ain’t enough for the day after tomorrow.” he says, angry. Uncle Charlie was always angry though. Momma told him it was a side effect of the war, of all the bad things done to him. “It don’t matter how thin you stretch it- it’s gonna run out and we’re gonna starve.”

Momma didn’t like it when people cussed in front of her, but this time she doesn’t say anything about his foul language- instead she wrings her hands together in front of her. “It’ll be alright,” she says, but for some reason he doesn’t believe her. “We’re going to figure this all out.”

Another scoff from Charlie, who stands and brushes invisible dirt from his jeans. “There ain’t no more jobs left, not for people like us, and kindness isn’t endless- we’ve all gotta eat.” He spits against the porch before heading back inside the house. Behind him the door rattles against the frame, not closing properly.

Momma shakes her head, rubbing her hands so tight that they’re almost translucent under the yellow light on the porch. “Don’t listen to him, Tommy.” Her voice is hard and shaky. “We’re going to be fine. God’ll hear my prayers- he won’t let us go hungry.” She stops rubbing her hands, bringing one up to his shoulder and pinching the thin cotton of his shirt. “Go on and get inside now.”

He grunts, a harsh noise from low in his chest and does as he’s told, walking up the steps until he’s in front of the door. He doesn’t hear her follow him- turning around to find her standing still, her head tilted up to the dark sky. Another grunt- this one softer, more of a whine. He wanted to know what she was doing.

“Go inside, Tommy. I’ll be just a minute.” She says, her back still to him.

This time he lets her be, closing the storm door behind him. It’s hotter inside the house than outside- the leather across his face making it even harder to breathe as he climbs the stairs, boots loud against the aging wood. His room is on the second floor, the very last door. It used to belong to Momma- but the older she got, the harder it was to go up and down the stairs, so she took the one on the first floor, the one he had used as a child. This one had a bathroom attached to it. Small and cramped- but most things were small and cramped for him.. He was a big man, bigger than Charlie. Biggest back at the slaughterhouse.

Sometimes, Uncle Charlie liked to tease him and say that it was the reason that so many people were scared of him. But he didn’t like it when he said that to him- he didn’t want to be scary.

He’s taking off his boots and setting them at the edge of the bed when he thinks about the woman again. He thinks about how she’s all alone in her house and how sometimes, even with Momma and Charlie and Monty, he felt alone too. He hangs his apron in his closet- momma didn’t like it when he left it on the floor. It smells like sweat and soap and the Texas heat- different than when he had been allowed to butcher. He would have had to give it to momma then- or taken the bucket and soap out to the back and scrubbed it until the water no longer ran red. He didn’t like doing that, didn’t like how he’d end up cutting his knuckles open on the washing board- the smell of detergent staining his skin no matter what other chore he moved on to.

He heads to the bathroom to wash his hands- undoing the straps of leather on the back of his head and sliding his mask off. He didn’t have to worry about seeing his reflection- he had taken some of Monty’s paint and coated the mirror with it. Every now and then, pieces would flake off from the steam of his shower, but he avoided looking at those tiny little pieces, scared of what he’ll see.

He doesn’t like touching his face. Doesn’t like the feeling of it under his fingers. The way his skin seemed to be curled into itself, pulled tight and sore from the leather that rubbed against it, parts of it dipping into itself, as if he had taken his fingers and pushed his skin inside and it never fixed itself. But he has to do it- rubbing the bar of soap between his hands before scrubbing at his face- careful not to press too hard, the skin delicate. Momma had taught him how to do it, her fingers warm and soft against his scarred face before she ran the corner of his towel under the water and used it to wipe the soap off. But it’s been years since she last had seen his face. He didn’t like taking his mask off in front of her anymore.

He hears momma yell for him as he’s retying the straps at the back of his head. He doesn’t bother putting shoes on, leaving the towel hanging off the side of the sink as he makes his way down to the kitchen. Uncle Monty is still watching TV- a bottle of beer in his hand. He didn’t understand how he could just sit there and do nothing but watch the black and white screen for so long. Every now and then there would be a show that he thought was interesting enough to join him on the couch- but if Monty wasn’t working, he would sit here, watching whatever played.

“Come eat before it gets cold, Tommy.” Momma waved him towards the kitchen, pointing at the table she had set for him. He left Monty in the living room and made his way into the tiny kitchen. There was a bowl of stewed tripe waiting for him, steaming from momma having warmed it up. As soon as he eyed it- his appetite disappeared. He hated tripe. Momma knew that.

“I know what you’re thinking, Tommy, but you’re going to have to eat it.” She pats his back as she talks, sucking her teeth when he shakes his head.

“Either you eat, or you go hungry then!” she huffed, slapping her kitchen towel on the table besides the bowl. “This is all we have- we don’t have the luxury to be picky about our blessings.”

He knows that momma has a point- but he didn’t want to. He hated tripe. Hated how chewy and almost furry like it was in his mouth. No matter how momma made it, it never tasted good. The taste always lingered in his mouth and on his clothes. He groans- a slow, garbled noise from the back of his throat as he straightens up and shakes his head.

“Fine!” momma says, raising her voice. Her face is red as she snatches the bowl up and walks towards the fridge. “But you ain’t going to eat anything until this here bowl is empty, you hear me!” Momma opened the fridge with so much force that what little was inside shook.

He didn’t want to upset her, but sometimes he was just too stuck in his way to do anything about it. This wouldn’t be the first time that he went to bed with his stomach empty- gnawing on itself until it ached, and he had no choice but to give in and eat or ignore it until the pain became something dull and manageable. But right now, the scent of stewed tripe thick in the air, he was alright. With a huff, he grabs the glass of water that she had set out for him alongside the stew and chugs it down. It spills down the side of his mouth and onto his shirt, but he doesn’t care enough to slow down, dropping the glass on the table and stomping out of the kitchen, ignoring the way momma yells at him for being a slob.

He wanted to head back towards the woman in the red house. He wanted to see what she was doing- maybe she had made dinner and would invite him over to eat when she saw him standing outside. But Charlie had told him once that he couldn’t be doing that- couldn’t just stand off to the side of someone’s house and watch them.

He had done it once- with someone who used to work over at the Slaughterhouse. He had been young back then, nervous and all alone. The boy was about his age, though small and missing too many teeth. The boy had been nice to him on his first day- showing him where he could get an apron, so he wasn’t going around spraying blood and gore on his clothes. And that was all it took for him to cling onto the boy. He had followed him home that night after work, standing outside his house and watching through the window as his momma gave him a kiss and he sat down for dinner. He hadn’t realized that he had been there for hours, standing still and watching- imagining the boy inviting him inside to play. His momma had found him when she stepped out to throw away the garbage and he could still hear her scream, dropping the bag and running back inside.

He had been too scared to run off- accidentally pissing himself as he just stood there, heart racing as he watched the boy and his momma run around the house, shutting windows and pulling curtains close. 

When the Sheriff had arrived, Uncle Charlie had thrown open the passenger door and stalked towards him, cussing so much that his face had turned red. He had used the bad words other people liked to call him, backhanding him across the face for embarrassing the family like that.

Throwing him in the back of the Sheriff’s car- he had made his way to the door, taking his hat off and bending his chin against his chest. He didn’t know what they talked about, but he never saw the boy after that. The Sheriff let him go with a warning- shaking his head as he dropped them off.

So as much as he wanted to see the woman again- he knew that he had to wait, otherwise she would disappear like the boy, and he’d be alone all over again.

He would see her again tomorrow. He just had to be patient. It’s hard- but Momma liked to say that patience always brewed the sweetest blessings.

[mugentakeda]

ughhh iroh and zuko doing regular degular parent child things kicks rock......... modern au iroh and zuko playing horror games together and iroh is so bad at it and hates horror stuff but zuko laughs the whole time so he perseveres. going to the movies and getting cussed out cus iroh forgot to put his stupid flip phone on silent. going to the fuckinf grocery store and bickering over everything because iroh keeps looking at shit he doesnt need. iroh starts flirting with the cashier so zuko groans loudly and goes to stare at beef jerky while exploding his uncle with his mind. zuko putting irohs gas in his car when its cold or rainy outside and leaning out the window to scream at drivers that honk at them. iroh yelling for zuko everytime theres a spider in the house. them watching jeopardy and arguing the whole time. folding dumplings for dinner that night while watching shitty wuxia dramas or opera plays on tv. iroh misusing emojis on purpose because it gets on zukos nerves. zuko showing iroh something on his phone and sighing deeply when iroh does that parent thing where he takes zukos phone and holds it out at arms length just to see whats on the screen

[aphetaliamessages]

What are the countries thankful for?

America: FAACES fam, Tony and Mr. Whale, his Uncle Scotty, his Baby Uncle Sealand, and the Awesome Trio. And Russia's muscles 😤

Canada: For Gilbert, who finally noticed him

England: For all his sons even though they enjoy annoying him. His daughter, Seychelles. His brothers, too, maybe. And "I guess frogs for being tasty."

France: Makeup, cheese, wine, bread, cake, England, the BTT, ~England~, his kiddos, his sister, ghosts, labour unions, pretty dresses, pretty suits, his cat, the Pierres, tsundere compliments from England, love stories, his hair, roses, love songs, frilly curtains—

Russia: Alfie, his sisters, snow, sunshine, nature in general, little fluffy animals, sunflowers, borscht, vodka, and Christmas

Italy: Pasta, his friend Japan, pizza, pasta, nice clothes, siestas, Germany, linguine—that's a pasta, naked siestas, naked Germany, ravioli, his brothers, and cats!

Romano: Tomatoes. And churros 🤔

Spain: Definitely VERY thankful for his Lovito

Germany: Italy. Japan and Gilbert, too. And cake. Not just Italy. Other things as well. Ahem. Like wurst.

Prussia: His brother, his besties, Gilbird (his favourite wingman), Mattie, Mattie's hair, Mattie's ass, Mattie's dick, Mattie's thighs, Mattie in comfy sweaters, Mattie in a crop top, Mattie with no shirt, Mattie with no pants, pancakes, Mattie's pancakes (not a euphemism), Mattie's pancakes (as a euphemism), how excited Mattie gets over hockey, Mattie's singing voice, Mattie's blush, Mattie's smile, aaaand beer

Austria: The familiar scent of his piano, the smell of edelweiss in the summer, orchestral performances on YouTube, and not being invited to Alfred's Thanksgiving party

Hungary: Austria. Austria in a frilly dress. Austria playing piano. Austria eating wurst. Austria in a tight dress. Austria in her bed. Austria—

China: Peace and quiet, Hong Kong speaking Chinese even if it's the wrong one, buffets, Hello Kitty, and Mickey Mouse

and Rommy

Japan: Cherry blossoms, green tea Pocky, Hatsune Miku, anime, dogs, cats, Greece, Germany and Italy, his weird big family, Animal Crossing, America's promise to beat up anyone who bullies him, Ao3 and Pixiv

Hong Kong: Hip hop, when Bàba approves, when Dad disapproves, the word "yo," wearing hats backwards, white boys with puffins (well there's only one), dumplings, and unrestricted internet access!

Send an ask if you want more characters! — Mod England 🎸

[five-rivers]

Just One Day (Chapter 1)

During times like this, Iroh glimpses what Zuko could have been if Lu Ten lived.  

It’s easy, almost painfully so, for Iroh to see what he himself would have been.  He wouldn’t have had any reason to change, after all, and he had already been old by the time he’d breached the walls of Ba Sing Se.  But for Zuko?  That’s harder.  

Zuko had been a child, still forming, still being formed, when Lu Ten died.  Zuko’s training would have taken a very different path, if he had been allowed to remain a mere cousin to the crown prince.  

Looking at what could have been for Zuko is like looking into a kaleidoscope.  Even within the confines of the royal house, there are a thousand paths Zuko could have walked.  A diplomat, a priest, a soldier, a scholar, an artist, an advisor.  A spy.  An assassin.

It’s the way Zuko pours himself out of the ventilation shaft, utilizing a economy of motion that could be called graceful that does it.  The utter silence of his movements, the color of his clothes, the brightness in his eyes…  Yes.  Iroh sees what Zuko might have been.  What he might have been used for, in another world.  What even Iroh himself might have been encouraged.

But if Iroh would imagine that world, he might as well imagine any of the dozen others that have crossed his mind over the years.  That countless myriad of what-ifs set on him like a spirit plague.  If he imagines that world, he could instead picture kinder ones.  Ones where the war was over, where Zuko was happy.  

It was immaterial.  What mattered was the here and now.  Here and now, Zuko is none of those things.  Zuko is an exile, a desperate one, chasing after a rapidly narrowing beam of hope that had more in common with the lure of an angler-shark than anything good.

“Uncle?” asks Zuko, voice quiet and rough.  Burnt.

“My apologies, Nephew,” says Iroh.  “You must forgive an old man his woolgathering.”

Zuko’s pinched expression says that no, he doesn’t have to do that and probably won’t.  “You have to focus if-- if we’re doing this.  You can’t be distracted when Zhao is looking over your shoulder.”  His tone is angry.  At least, that is how most people would interpret it.

“It’s alright, it’s alright, I’ve made sure we’re alone.  We’re as safe as we can be.  In the meantime, food!  And more importantly, tea.”

Zuko scrunches his face into an expression that is both delightfully teenage and undoubtedly painful.  His face is covered in bruises and small cuts.  “Uncle…”

“You may wrinkle your nose, Prince Zuko, but every person in the world has at least one virtue, and Admiral Zhao’s is excellent taste in tea.”  He smiles as he sits down and reaches for the pot.  “Although, I am sorry to say that his virtue is a very lonely one.”

Sadly, this does not get the laugh Iroh was hoping for.  Zuko’s scowl may, however, become slightly less pronounced.  He also, once Iroh sits down, falls on the food like a starving man.  He might very well be.  Iroh’s position on the ship and in Admiral Zhao’s retinue has the unfortunate requirement of being in Zhao’s presence, or that of his trusted subordinates, most of the day.  This means that he cannot help his nephew nearly as much as he would like.  

So.  It is, in fact, very likely that this is Zuko’s first meal today.

Although, Zuko is quite capable of theft, when it serves his purposes and sense of honor.  Maybe he is just being a teenager.  Teenagers are hungry.  

Iroh would ask, but he doubts he would receive an honest answer, either way.  

Then, Zuko stops, mid-bite.  “Uncle,” he says around a dumpling, “have you eaten?”

Then again, Iroh is, perhaps, not a bastion of honesty himself.  “Of course!”  He pats his stomach.  “Have you ever known me to miss a free meal?”

Zuko squints at this, then looks back down at his food.  He doesn’t start eating again.  

“Do you ever…” he starts, before pursing his lips together.  

“Yes?” prompts Iroh, hopefully.  

“Do you ever wish,” says Zuko, quickly, the words tumbling over each other, crowding to get out of his mouth, “that you were someone else?”  He freezes, then, jaw clenched tightly, as if he fears that he has spoken out of turn.  

“No,” says Iroh, glad that, at least, this is a familiar fear.  “No.  Prince Zuko, I do not regret my decision to be with you.”

“That’s not what I mean,” says Zuko, clearly frustrated but keeping his voice at a near whisper.  “I mean…  Do you ever wish that you weren’t-- That you didn’t--  That you were a, I don’t know, a poet, or a priest, or a-- a normal person.  Somewhere.  Someone who didn’t… didn’t have to…”  He shrugged.

Iroh blinks.  Not a fear, then, perhaps.  Well, if Zuko wants to stop his hunt, to disappear from the eye of the Fire Nation and more importantly the Fire Lord, Iroh will do his best to make that happen, and with a glad heart.  Although, it would have been far more convenient if Zuko had his change of heart before he snuck onto this ship…

“I suppose all men do so at times, especially men of power.  Otherwise, why would there be so many stories of kings and lords in disguise?  Why would there be actors, or the masks of the Fire Festival?  I confess, even I have, hm, occasionally pretended to be someone who is not Prince Iroh of the Fire Nation, General and Dragon of the West.”  He paused.  “Do you wish for such a thing, Nephew?” best to not use his title and remind him of the responsibilities attached to it.

“I… I have, uncle.”  He looks up, alarm clear on his face.  “Not permanently!  Not forever!  Not-- Not even for very long!  But sometimes…”  He looks down again, a blush spreading across skin that is alternately pale, scarred, burned, bruised, and scraped.  “I wish,” he says, very quietly indeed, “I could be someone else, anyone else, just for a day.”

In that moment, Iroh can see all the things that Zuko wishes not to be, not to have.  He wishes not to hurt, not to be hurt, not to have this weight upon him, not to have this duty, not to be banished, not to be so far from home, not to be part of this war, not to have these memories, this history, not to be betrayed over and over again.

Although, that is probably not the way Zuko is thinking about it.

“But just for a day,” says Zuko.  He swallows.  “Just for a day.  I know my duty, Uncle.  I love our people.  It’s my honor to serve them.”

Ah.  Perhaps Zuko is not, quite, ready to run away with him to become nameless, faceless Earth Kingdom peasants, then.  Well, Iroh always knew this was going to be, how should he put it, a work in progress.  Or, no, that probably wasn’t the best way to put that.  He’d have to think on it.  

Metaphors took a lot of work that the youth of today just didn’t appreciate.

Iroh put his hand on Zuko’s shoulder and squeezed it as tightly as he dared.  “I understand, Prince Zuko,” he said.  “But I hope that someday, the spirits will grant your wish.”

Zuko blinked hard, then went back to inhaling his meal.  A few minutes later, he was climbing - practically levitating - his way back up into the vents.  

Iroh leaned back, sighing.  They really shouldn’t make those things as big as they did.  

.

Zuko crawled to the bend in the ventilation shaft that he’d been sleeping in while Zhao sailed north.  It was near the showers, so while it was unpleasantly damp, it was warm and he could sometimes overhear the officers talking.  

He curled up, tucking in his knees and pillowing his head on the small bag of necessities he’d been able to put together.  He should sleep.  He needed to sleep.  

But to sleep, he’d have to forget all the stupid things he had said to his uncle.  What had he been thinking?  Ugh.  He’d hit something, if that wouldn’t give away his position and therefore his presence.  

Well.  It might not, at that.  Ships were noisy.  Still.  

Still.  

Still, he hadn’t been lying.  But he knew better than to just say things like that.  That’s what got him exiled in the first place.  

He forcefully closed his eyes.  He would sleep.  He had to be rested, to break into the north pole and capture the Avatar.  

.

The sun slowly rose over the arctic horizon, waking all of the fleet’s firebenders, even if for only a moment, depending on their shift.  In his stateroom, Admiral Zhao woke slowly, and called for his aides to brief him.  Decks below, General Iroh, already awake, ran through a set of katas he had not yet taught his nephew.  In a ventilation duct near the officer’s showers, a teenage firebender gasped, coming awake all at once.  But this teenager wasn’t Prince Zuko.  Prince Zuko wasn’t on the ship.  Prince Zuko wasn’t anywhere.  

In the ventilation duct, Kuzon of Hing Wa sat up.  

.

(The moral of the story is ‘don’t make wishes when you’re in a spirit tale.’)