#lok lin

[marvelatthismess]

Ignore the lack of a face on the second one, I hate drawing faces sometimes and these were both drawn months ago

Thinking about young Lin hours

I would go on a rant about tiny Lin and all my headcanons about her but we'll save that for later (unless anyone asks for them sooner), then there's teen Lin and her brief pro-bending career before she joined the police academy (another headcanon rant I'll save for later)

Anyway, head empty, just lin

[wishingforatypewriter]

For the warm & fluffy bingo, do you think you could do Carry You To Bed for Linzolt?

Thank you <3

Of course! Thanks for the ask! Here's some fluffy twentysomethings Linzolt, featuring drunk Lin!

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The music poured out of the Moonrise Oasis even after the doors closed behind them, and Zolt had to raise his voice to be heard over it. “Linny, you sure you don’t wanna put your shoes back on?” 

Lin stood barefoot on the pavement in front of the night club, the deep green heels she’d kicked off while they were dancing dangling from her fingertips. Her cheeks were still flushed from the polar martinis she’d been sipping all night and her jade eyes flashed with a rare mischievousness. 

“Why would I?” she asked, her lips turned up into a half smirk. “I’m more powerful this way.”

“There could be broken glass or something.” 

“You think I’m so drunk I wouldn’t sense it?” She crossed her arms over her chest and one of the shoes slipped out of her hand. 

“I’d call it a certainty,” he said and picked it up for her. “C’mon. Let’s hail a cab.”

“I wanna walk,” she said, because of course she did. “It’s nice out tonight.” 

He eyed her for a moment. Linny was still humming and swaying to the saxophones even after they’d made it halfway down the block. “You can’t even take ten steps in a straight line.” 

“Oh please,” she said, rolling her eyes, and raised the ground along a dividing line in the sidewalk. 

Zolt shook his head. “That’s a fine for destruction of public property, officer.”

“Shut it. I’m concentrating,” Lin said and bent herself up onto the platform. She held her arms out like a tightrope walker as she made her way across—four steps, then seven. Zolt caught her hand when she stumbled on the descent. “That was still more than ten.” 

“I counted eight, but I won’t fight you on it.” Zolt took his jacket off and draped it around her shoulders, laughing a bit when she buried her nose in the collar and inhaled deeply. “Now why don’t you do that while I’m wearing it?”

“Because then you’d know how much I want you,” she replied, without missing a beat. A moment passed, then, “Fuck.” 

“For what it’s worth, I want you too, Beifong,” he said, still chuckling. “More than you know.” 

“And it’s gonna fuck both of us,” she quipped, then started up the next street in the direction of their hotel. Even drunk as a dolphin-fish, she knew the city like the back of her hand. 

“Ain’t that the truth,” he said and went after her, lingering just a few steps behind to watch the moonlight on her back. 

Halfway down Seafarers Way she raised the ground again to get around a set of broken beer bottles—to her credit, she had sensed them after all―and started at her tightrope walking.

“You’re gonna break your neck,” Zolt told her. 

“Stop complaining and hold my hand, then.” 

Zolt couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or the nature of the request, but her blush had deepened considerably. “All you had to do was ask, Linny,” he said, smirking as he interlaced their fingers.  

The shit he’d take from his crew if they could see him now, with her shoes in one hand and the other holding her steady. This girl would be the end of him, he knew. 

When she tripped at the curb where the ground dipped, he said fuck it and picked her up.

 She had the nerve to close her eyes and murmur, “You’re lucky I’m tired,” against his chest. 

“You’re lucky I can hold a drink better than you can,” he said as he turned onto the block of the hotel, wondering how many poor drunk asses would walk right into the obstacles she made. She’d laugh at them too, his Linny. 

By the time he deposited her under the cerulean sheets of the king-sized hotel bed, she was snoring softly. He watched her sleep for a minute, guessing she’d remember none of it come morning, before sliding into bed beside her.

[wishingforatypewriter]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

It was not her apartment per se, or his, or Kyoshi forbid, theirs—nothing so sentimental as that—just a place they could meet without running into world leaders at the Four Elements or getting bitten by cinder suckers in some seedy motel downtown. Never mind the fact that she seldom went back to her mother’s house, or him to his place, or that the old lady in apartment six thought they were newlyweds.

[wishingforatypewriter]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

A former police captain and a former mobster get asked to take in two recently-orphaned brothers.

Written for the Avatar Pro-Shipping Rare Pair Challenge:

Week 6 (Accidental Baby Acquisition)

@avatar-rare-pair-ship-challenge

[wishingforatypewriter]

Would you like to try #14 for Linumi?

Of course! Sorry for the wait! I hadn't read much Linumi before this, so I had to do a little research first. I hope I did alright!

14. kissing each other breathless

For most Republic City residents, the All Nations Summit meant crowds of people packed onto the sidewalks on Harbor Street to catch a glimpse of the arriving world leaders. It meant inspirational speeches crackling across radio channels, newspapers sold out before the presses went cold, and—if one were being honest—evening commutes substantially lengthened by consular traffic.

But for the Republic City Police Department and the United Forces, the event constituted a bureaucratic nightmare of epic proportions. Captain Lin Beifong sat on the floor of her apartment, hunched over the myriad telegrams and briefings from the other nations’ security forces. After reading over a particularly asinine request, she took a long sip of the homemade gin and tonic beside her, then ran a hand down the length of her face.

“You think we can cram six Imperial Firebenders onto the City Hall steps during the joint press conference?”

“Impossible.”

“You really think so?”

“I swear the publishers make them harder every week.”

When she glanced over at her United Forces counterpart, he was sprawled across her couch, doing the crossword in the Monsoon Street Dispatch. Lin rolled her eyes and swatted at his leg with the file folder in her hands. “Bumi, focus!”

The commander regarded her with a lopsided grin. “C’mon, Lin. You and I both know Iz and Zuko are gonna give their security detail the slip the minute they pull into the harbor.”

“It’s our job to make sure they don’t do that, among other things.” She sighed, looking through the papers again. “So imperial firebenders?”

“Four maximum. The Earth Kingdom and Northern Water Tribe will want to match their numbers, and we still need RCPD in the vicinity.” Bumi folded the newspaper over and went over to Lin’s kitchen, which at this point contained more bar equipment than actual cookware. He seemed to pick up another gadget every time he set sail and invariably stored them in her apartment, as the kitchens on Air Temple Island dealt only in tea and lychee juice. “You want another gin and tonic?”

“I want this summit to be over so I can get back to major crimes.” Lin sighed, leaning her head back against the couch cushions. “I guess a drink won’t hurt, though.”

In truth he was a terrible influence. When he was away on assignment, she never took work home with her, instead spending half the nights in her office chair down at the station until the mountains of documents receded.

By the time Bumi returned with her G&T and his whiskey sour, Lin had taken over his spot on the couch. All the files were tucked neatly into their folders and placed on top of her mini-bookshelf.

He grinned when he saw her. “I take it we’re done working for the day.”

“For the hour, at least.”

Bumi set the drinks on the side table and then plopped down beside her. For a fleeting moment, Lin considered getting the coasters from the floor, but when his lips found hers, all thoughts and inhibitions came undone.

Before she knew it, Lin had moved to straddle the commander, her hips rolling against the bulge in his neatly pressed uniform pants as she kissed like she had orders to suck the breath out of his lungs. One of Bumi’s hands came to rest on the curve of her hip while the other tangled itself in her hair, tugging slightly, just the way she liked.

When they parted at long last, both breathless and kiss-swollen, a look passed between them, and they knew that getting any more work done that day would be unlikely in the extreme.

[wishingforatypewriter]

4 for Lin Beifong

4. Angry headcanon

She was always very professional about it, but Lin lowkey hated President Raiko from the minute he stepped into office. She hated his tax policy and his photo ops and his constant schmoozing. She hated how he talked to Iroh, who was basically her nephew. She hated how he dealt with Wu AND how he dealt with Kuvira. She was almost irritated enough to consider running against him, but then Zhu Li stepped in (Lin has issues with that whole thing too, but concedes that she was the lesser of the two evils) and spared her the large-scale annoyance of getting into politics.

Send me a character and a number and I'll give you a headcanon about them!

[wishingforatypewriter]

11 for Lin Beifong

11. Driving headcanon

Lin is physically incapable of driving the speed limit, so she usually takes public transportation around Republic City as not to set a bad example. The second she has a reason to drive out of town, though, she's zooming down the highway with the top down, sunglasses on and music blasting.

Send me a character and a number and I'll give you a headcanon about them!

[wishingforatypewriter]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

A million girls in Republic City and it had to be her, the fucking trifecta of trouble―a cop, the avatar’s mentee, an old money type with a grandpa richer than the Earth King. He’d gamed out impossible outcomes before—even brought a few to fruition—but there was no scenario in which this thing could last.

“What are you thinking about so hard this early?” Linny asked, her voice thick with sleep. She rose slowly, stretching until something cracked. Red duvet and white sheets slid away, revealing muscles and curves and skin that glowed like Ma’inka pearls. “Unless it's a felony. If it’s a felony, don’t tell me.”

In another life, he’d marry her.