#emotionbending

I think most uses of uncontrolled/emotion based bending are done for a “rule of funny” case more often than not, rather than signifying anything significant.

1. Which superpower is your favourite?

To stop time. ^^

2. Your favourite food?

A big rare Steak!  ... 2 of them would be better ^^°

3. Would you like to become famous?

Well.. I wouldn't be angry if I become famous, but then I think: I'm already famous - famous by my friends. ♥u♥ 

4. Which is your most hated nickname somebody gave you?

Jess-Jess Everytime hearing that name I thought: One more time and I will... !! My name is short enough, so: WHY??!! >.<

5. Do you have any awkward attributes, preferences or skills?

1. Don't poke my waste or I will squaek >.< (I know, to you it is funny to hear me squeaking..)

2. I think too much about everything..

3. Sometimes I sound unwittingly precocious.. ^^°

6.  Favourite computer game?

Ask me something easyer.. xD I don not play very often.. 

It might be Sims? But there are so much better games I never played.

7. Do you believe in great love?

That is not an easyer question xD Hm.. great love..  I think it's possible great love exists.. But love is calculable and suggestible. It's something that easyly changes.

8. Favourite quote?

"A secret makes a women women." - Detektiv Conan (Chris Vinyard)

"Show must go on." - Queen

"Was mich nicht umbringt, macht mich nur stärker." - Nietsche

"Don't forget, always, somewhere, someone is fighting for you." - Madoka Magica

9. Cupcakes or cake/pie?

Definitifly cake/pie. Cupcakes are too small and there are more sorts of cakes and pies.

10. Did you already found your soulmate?

I think so ♥

11. Wanna be friends? :)

Aren't we already friends?! ;'O ♥ 11 Questions to the tagged: 1. Favourite candy

2. how old are you?

3. What are you scared about?

4. How did you get to know about tumblr? 5. OTP

6. Favourite character

7. hobbies

8. Favourite superpower?

9. The best nickname you got

10. Do you like cookies? ;)

Another writeworld prompt ficlet that got a bit longer than I expected it to... But anyway, this story resulted from some of the answers I gave in this response to an ask of xc's for Korrlok. Lots of flangst, as usual, and I was tearing up whilst writing this, so be warned.  Rated T. 

Korra awakens to feeling as if a heavy weight has fallen upon her chest. She attempts to stifle a cough, but it doesn’t work. She struggles to open her eyes, blinking against the harsh light. Memories begin to filter back to her mind… the raid they’d undertaken at the crime lord’s lair…. the large crime lord towering over her as ice arrows slice into her body just as Tarrlok blocks her way, taking several hits himself before sinking to the ground, gritting his teeth in pain as she stumbles over to help him…. and then the darkness swamps her. 

She turns her head, striving to fight against the delirium presently clouding her mind. She gradually realises that she is lying in a hospital room in Republic City because of the stark white walls of the room. Feeling very weary, she angles her head again slightly so that she can see who is resting in the bed opposite to her, and the fringes of a smile crest her mouth as she notices it is the councilman. 

“Tarrlok,” she murmurs through parched lips, woodenly extending her hand to touch his arm. He stirs, moving gingerly because of the bandages on his torso. His eyes open slowly and she sees in them pain, resignation, and acceptance all at once.

“Korra?” Tarrlok mussitates, taking her hand in his own. “Korra, are you all right? What happened?” A gasp emanates from his body and he clutches his side. Korra attempts to sit up, but she is too weakened to get more leverage off of her arms to lift her even slightly to help him.

“There was a raid… I think… and now we’re injured,” Korra explains. Her eyes pool with tears at the sight of seeing her magnificent husband in such a state of incapacitation… From what she could see, his wounds seem severe and the pain radiating from his body is reflected in the light of his eyes as he stares at her. “We’ll be all right, Tarrlok,” She tries to comfort him, even though to her own mind her words ring hollow. 

“I’m… not… sure…. of that,” Tarrlok replies, a groan slipping from his mouth. Just then, the doctor emerges into the room, causing Korra and Tarrlok to break their gaze off with each other and look at him. The doctor’s eyes are sympathetic as he says, 

“I’m sorry, Avatar Korra, Councilman Tarrlok, but we were not able to get you here in time… we did all we could to stave off the fatality of your wounds, but our councilman is not long for this world, I think.”

He makes his words as gentle as possible, but the words still hit Korra with the force of another ice arrow. She glances at Tarrlok and knows she sees in his eyes the same knowledge. 

“What about me?” she hears her voice whisper. The doctor shakes his head, 

“Both of you arrived here in great distress and severely wounded… the injuries of both of you are fatal. Avatar Korra, an artery in your neck has been slashed, same as your husband, who is also suffering from an ice spear breaking his leg, which is causing him internal hemorrhaging, which you can see by his weakness.” She watches the doctor pucker his lip, almost as if he was angry at two of the highest officials in the city for daring to use their Task Force to stop crime. “I’m sorry,” the doctor murmurs before stepping outside of the room. 

“Wait,” she calls to the doctor, who pokes his head back in through the door. “I want my bed pushed up next to his.” 

The doctor shakes his head but moves to comply with her wishes, shoving her narrow hospital bed next to Tarrlok. The doctor steps back as Korra reaches out to run her head over Tarrlok’s face, feeling him lean wearily against her. 

Korra glances up at Tarrlok, surprised to find no fear in his eyes, although she can see how limp his body is and that is worrying to her.

“I’m sorry…. I had to leave you… in this way,” Tarrlok says. She feels his hand stroking the long strands of her unkempt hair. In return, she twines her fingers within his long hair, which had fallen down during the battle and was now the way she likes it best, messy and hanging over his shoulders. 

“Don’t be,” She replies, her voice as soft as a butterfly’s wings in the silent room. She presses a soft kiss to his forehead, their foreheads touching. On the wall behind their beds, a silhouette forms of their two heads resting on the other’s. “We’ll go together… my sweet.” 

He stares into her weary eyes, and she sees the reflection of love beaming from them. Another moan emanates from his body, causing him to grab his side in pain again as it sears up from his leg.

“Take my hand,” he declares, extending his left hand to her from his place on his bed. She reaches out to take it, feeling the electricity of connection race through her arm at his touch. Her fingers intertwine with his as his large hand envelops her own. “I want to feel you here with me.”