beliefovermisery: (Default)
[personal profile] beliefovermisery
When last we met with Sokka, he'd been through a lot.

Season One of Avatar: The Last Airbender, first of all.

Then Apocalyptica, for instance.

Followed by Eden.

He lost his mother, his father, his tribe, his first girlfriend.

He's gained a sister, a brother, two nieces, and a very serious girlfriend.

He's lost a sister, that girlfriend, the new community he'd made a second home, masters and friends and teachers and family.

And he's been stuck on a single street for years, keeping tenuous hold of his sanity... and sobriety.

To make an extremely long story (like 10 years worth of story) very, very short, the difficulties and danger of Eden were made even more difficult and dangerous by the appearance of a visitor known only as The Doctor.

"I can get you home!" he'd exclaimed, pleased and excited by this ability to help, and most residents had been beside themselves with joy.

Less joy when the limitations were explained to the mixed families on the street.

Individuals could only be returned to their birth worlds. Mel Fray could go back to Haddyn, Sokka and Zuko could go back to the Four Nations, Hana and Loo could be sent to Apocalyptica.

Not good enough.

They said goodbye to Claire, to Steph, Cass and Tim and Revan, even Marcus. They said goodbye to everyone while holding tight to each other. And while the Doctor and his companion checked again and again, needing to be certain, eventually they entered their blue police box and left the small family behind again.

New arrivals still came from time to time and Eden never really got better or more interesting unless they put some serious effort into finding activities. But they were together and that had to be enough.

After so long together, there are things you learn not to talk about with each other. Katara was never brought up, for instance, and even in Zuko's best moods, his father and the Fire Nation were utterly taboo. Harth Fray may as well never had existed for all they acknowledged him.

A mistake, as it turned out.

-

Eden was quiet, when the wretches weren't attacking. Quiet and calm and dull and boring and maybe they'd become far too reliant on howls and beasts to keep them on their toes, relaxing far too much without those particular warning signs.

Setting a trap, finding his bait, and continuing his favorite sort of torture turned out not to be too difficult for Harth at all.

-

The details are vague.

Sokka likes them that way.

The scars on his temples have been fading for years, though never truly gone. Harth still brings them up with cruel laughter but he doesn't spend too much time taunting. He tears the white bone necklace from Sokka's throat, finds the old puncture scars he's always hidden, and freshens the bite.

This time, unlike the last, he is not interrupted.

Sokka can only be glad Harth's newest torture to his sister is to leave her adopted brother's lifeless body on display, and not to change, twist, and distort him the way Harth himself has become.

-

So he's not glad, exactly, to wake up in Milliways, get his newcomer speech, and within a week, spot a Mel who doesn't know him, a Zuko who can walk and bend with ease, mutants who have heard of Paige and know for a fact she's still alive and thriving. He even meets a Batgirl who promises him Steph is okay, then cocks her head curiously and asks how he knows her.

He guesses that he doesn't, not really, and gives up for a while.

-

It's only a month before he makes a close enough friend to be offered a door out into their world, just for a visit. Sokka is more than a bit lost in Milliways and is happy for the entertainment, wandering around New Orleans to listen to music, eat new food, look at a sky and thriving world that isn't dead or dying. The space is a little nerve-wracking after so long in Eden, but it's a nice sort of nerve-wracking.

He sees quite a few tattoos and it only takes a day before he asks his companion about them. He doesn't touch his neck but he's also made sure his necklace is carefully in place everyday before leaving his rooms.

His new friend introduces him to body art studios and Sokka gets a running wolf across his throat. The temple scars, he leaves. They've mostly faded by now anyway and he's gotten used to a hairstyle that helps to hide them. But the bite, if not surgically removed, needs to be covered.

His necklace has been too small for far too long as he grew from a skinny 15 year old to a 20 year old man. He shortens the beads back to the original number with a bit of wire and turns it into a bracelet instead.

Sokka has fond memories of New Orleans.

-

He tends Bar quite a lot. It's an easy job and a nice way to talk to people without getting too serious. There's a forge with room for him and Bar helped him build up a new toolbox. He doesn't build as much as he used to and he's stopped carving wooden toys - they make him think of Hana and Loo and that hurts, hurts in ways even Mel, Zuko, and Katara don't.

Sokka doesn't like leaving anyone behind.

It's hard for the first six months, but it's a nicer, safer, more exciting and enticing place than the apartments had been, certainly better than Eden. If his family weren't missing, too, Milliways might just be paradise
veneficusvenato: (Default)
[personal profile] veneficusvenato
"This will always be one of the best days of my life."

Jo grinned at Sokka, trying to shout that over the roar of festivities around then, even when she was barely feet away. Hogsmeade had exploded in an evening celebration of the graduation of the newest class. 

Tomorrow there would be packing. And the train. And the first ever real goodbyes to places and people they'd all known and grown up with. But today everyone in their class was running and laughing, drinking and playing still. 

Jo totally saw a good deal of the frivolity as their fault, too. Their last prank had been epic. Lee'd stolen and returned all the graduation hats. Sokka'd potioned them. Jo'd spelled them.

And at the end of graduation every hat had turned into a small shiny house-colored dragon, zooming into the air and then they'd roared all at once before turning into a shower of flower petals that fell on everyone. 

And while usually their trifecta was quiet and smirky about their deeds -- they were graduated now, what was anyone going to do? -- and there was laughing, bowing, grinning, hugging. And flower petal bombing. 

Yes. Yes, indeed. One of the best ever. 

trickswithsticks: (I didn't do it!)
[personal profile] trickswithsticks
Leah is not late to History of Magic. She is, in fact, precisely on time, having figured out how much time she had to go and check out a picture on the fifth floor after she had a sudden idea in the last lesson.

She's wearing one of her cheeky, private grins when she skids into the classroom, and heads to the nearest empty desk. Sure, it's the desk that usually hosts one Jo Harvelle, but Harvelle isn't here yet, and if she does turn up, she can always sit next to Bill Kinney.

He pokes.
[identity profile] eqqumavaa.livejournal.com
You know what the best possible moment for a boy from a wizarding family whose never shown much magical talent, sitting beside a sister who's been jazzhanding-sparks since before she could talk?

It's receiving your letter. With the four-squared seal and the capital H and his name in flame red ink.

Granted, his father had to read the supply list for him and he had to spend the rest of the summer brushing up on English but now? Now?

Sokka Aquam, oldest son of the Aquam family, is in England for the first time in his life. And not just England - he's on the train. The train. The Hogwarts Express.

Sokka hasn't been able to shut up about it. Saying hello to the students - his fellow students - asking about classes, the experience of the train ride, the school. He's terribly excited.

Odd, he thinks, how his compartment has stayed empty. Even after arriving an hour early for the train, with how many kids have stuck a head in to check, for his constant invitations to join him.

Still empty.

British kids are kind of anti-social, he guesses.
[identity profile] not-scully.livejournal.com
[ Summer of Sam: Ending B ]

Twenty minutes later, when he's washed his hands and put the kit away, Sam is standing in the bathroom again. Confident this time to complete his shave, since he'd threatened to tie Jo to the hotel bed and/or make her use the crutches in the car for the rest of the day - possibly tomorrow - maybe the next day if she didn't stay the hell on the bed at least until he'd finished putting their things to rights.

She's yelling at him, but only over the sound of the television and the water running over his razor. Got the books out, the notebooks, suggesting places to go, people to see. Things to check into. And maybe it's the afterglow talking, but it's the first time he's felt at all ready to address any of it.

"We're not going anywhere near Nebraska until it's been a week since I lied to your mom."



Well, there are still some things going unaddressed.
tobeclosetohim: (Second Generation Hunters 2)
[personal profile] tobeclosetohim
[ Summer of Sam: Ending A ]

Twenty minutes later, when her calf has mostly stopped screaming about a second round of stitching in less than a day, Jo is still laying, in her white tank top and underwear, on the bed. Not to be lazy but because Sam threatened to tie her to next hotel bed and make her uses the crutches all of today if she didn't say off it at least as long as he finished cleaning up.


She passed the time, watching the tv on almost mute and making a list of where they could go next. What needed researching now. Shouting suggestions over the sound of the faucet in the bathroom. And counting down the minutes to when the pizza would arrive.
[identity profile] not-goingback.livejournal.com
Somehow, the years passed. Through the pain of Miki and Ai-ling's funeral. Through the trial of their murderers. Through Sakari's journey to the North to train - through her engagment ceremony which still put both her parents in foul moods just to think of. Through Panya's journey to Kyoshi.

Through Kanna's first words, first steps, first cooked meal, sewn garment, completed hunt. Her first throw of the boomerang, her first cartwheel.

Somehow, Steph and Sokka had survived through the permanent loss of one child, the distancing of the other two. Somehow they'd managed six years of watching their granddaughter grow.

Somehow, the time they'd promised Lu had snuck up on them.

Kanna was delighted, overjoyed with the possibilities of travel and cousins, new family and new places, and training for her blossoming abilities. Sokka and Steph smiled for her, even when they had a hard time looking at each other.

And when the ironclad sailed into port - a true port, too, carved out of precious blue stone and almost rivalling that of the North - the ancient chief and his wife slumped while their granddaughter danced.

Eventually, they're both sure, she'll miss them and be back to visit. Maybe she'll even come back to stay someday. For now, Kanna and Steph are busy packing and preparing while Sokka watches soldiers around the ironclad and wonders how time so filled with loss can still move so impossibly fast.
tobeclosetohim: (Sam - Hunters (Planning))
[personal profile] tobeclosetohim
Part I
Part II
Part III



Life has it patterns. Jo doesn't call it normal. But they come back.

She gets up and showers, ignoring the aches and pains, and goes back to it all.
A leg wound is only a leg wound. Every time. Even when Sam Winchester shot her.


Because life here is about other things, and their skin is only their skin, and their being foiled happens more often than anything. Which presently involved combing her fingers through her wet hair and rummaging through a backpack debating the podunk library before it closed in an hour.
[identity profile] issarok.livejournal.com
Issarok has finished the morning classes and is now free to roam around the palace.

Unfortunately, it's nearly Midwinter, so the palace is dark, and there are Southerners and Firebenders everywhere, all of whom he'd really rather not run into in the dark.

He's sitting in the throne room instead, reading over a scroll of military theory and frowning whenever he finds something he disagrees with.  Which appears to be fairly often.
[identity profile] weighandbalance.livejournal.com
Mid-afternoon during midwinter - if not for the many lamps littered all over the palace, they'd all be stuck in complete blackness. Which is kind of irritating if you're trying to study, but the Water Tribes are used to it.

Still. It's a relief to Sakari when she can put the scrolls away, and the calligraphy brushes, and the embroidery needles, and move on to music. Yes, there are some pieces she still needs to read off the music sheets, but this is free time so she's 'free' to play.

The music is soft and experimental, mostly because Sakari is just trying to see what sort of sounds she can pluck from the konghou. If it ends up being interesting or pretty, all the better.
[identity profile] not-purple.livejournal.com
It is winter at the North Pole; the sun set several weeks ago and won't rise for several more. The Northern city is a jewel in the darkness, sparkling with hundreds of tiny lights, tiny flames. Flags and lanterns are strung between icy rooftops, swinging from ice spires; teams of benders work constantly decorating the ice city in new and fantastic ways, with intricate patterns of curling ice: the Midwinter festival is coming up, and Prince Issarok will be celebrating his eighteenth Midwinter. Which means he will, presumably, announce a wedding, and a bride. And so the city is preparing to celebrate. Even the Avatar is rumoured to be attending this Midwinter, along with dignitaries from the Earth and Fire nations, tireless in his work to bind the nations more firmly together.

So it's odd, maybe, that when Appa does land in the courtyard, the mood of his passengers isn't entirely celebratory.
theresnodoor: (17: Head down defeated)
[personal profile] theresnodoor
The little apartment in Metropolis has always been a little dark and dingy. The occupants don't use it for much other than sleeping, a place to go back to at night. A lumpy mattress with blankets, a moth-eaten couch, a small pile of books and magazines makes up the entire contents of the apartment.

And, right now, two teenagers asleep on the floor in front of the couch. Outside, the sun is starting to rise and people are moving in the city but the sleeping kids stay curled around each other.
[identity profile] whoiwasmeant2be.livejournal.com
Rachel has been asleep for a couple of hours. Tobias had stood up to wrap a blanket around her shoulders over an hour ago. Now he's sitting in a chair, watching her, sort of.

He's still worried about her, of course, but now he's thinking about... well... what's next. Over two hours morphed human... He's stuck again.
theresnodoor: (Default)
[personal profile] theresnodoor
Looking at things objectively is not only difficult but often extremely unwise.

Let's just pretend that's why Rachel and Tobias don't often do it.

So maybe, if they'd thought about it, they might have realized some of the complications of living in a broken world without a war; of living together in small quarters; of having each other almost as their sole interaction; to be without all old friends and comforts.

But they didn't and they haven't and here they are. In that very broken world without a war, solely with each other, amid all the very strange things that often happen to them.

Like Tobias, stuck in his human body without the ability to morph, feeling more like a Nothlit than ever before.

And Rachel trying not to say anything stupid in the meantime.

...sometimes it works.
[identity profile] reallydontknowu.livejournal.com
Tim sits perched at the edge of a roof, looking out over the city. He doesn't have much time to just sit and think these days. With Ra's in town there's not a lot of time spent waiting for something to happen. Instead there's constant counter-planning and contingency work. But sometimes you need to pause and catch your breath, let your brain catch up with your body.

And frown in thought because you don't really look like Dr. Midnite in this costume.

Right?

Right?
[identity profile] hector-aframian.livejournal.com
There's a bar in Metropolis that's always packed full.

Dean's not drinking tonight; he's watching the girls dance. One of them looks like Jo, and it makes him smile, the way she owns the floor, owns the entire room - the way people move out of her way when she heads to the bar, the way she unashamedly punches the sleazebag, the way she gets thrown right out of the club ----



Wait, that was Jo.

Dean joins her outside a moment later, still laughing. "Nice work."
[identity profile] whoiwasmeant2be.livejournal.com
Things have been... well... let's be honest: awkward. Rachel and Tobias are still in the tiny one-room dwelling, and they're... adjusting to having each other around. But they still don't know how to interact properly.

It's made worse by the fact that they don't see many people other than each other. There's a tension between them that Tobias has a hard time articulating, or even recognizing.

Still... they're managing.

He's out back today, shirt sticking slightly to him from the sweat of working out. He's not very good, but practicing the few punch and kick routines he's managed to pick up keeps him occupied. And maybe some day he'll be able to be useful again.
[identity profile] blueisboring.livejournal.com
Ai-Ling hates formal dinners. She hates them very much indeed. In fact, the only pleasure she usually gains from them is to try and sabotage them in as inventive a way as possible, while staying just out of actualy trouble.

This time, it's vitally important she makes a good impression on her future sister-in-law, so she's practically squirming as she dresses in her formal silks and does her hair up neatly and respectably. Then the need to do something other than what's expected gets too much and she makes a break for it. There's still an hour or so before she needs to be anywhere, so she heads straight towards the gardens, only opccasionally remembering she doesn't want to end up muddy and disshevelled.
serinusniger: (Default)
[personal profile] serinusniger
Some people might phone up their lover, or maybe beep their JLI communication device, or something before dropping in for a tryst.

Dinah Lance just drives her bike right up to the secret entrance to her lover's secret cave and heads atraight in. If he's not there, he will be soon.

She didn't expect to find a small boy tied up in a chair.

Soon the Black Canary is leaning on a computer console, looking at him with some interest.
[identity profile] whoiwasmeant2be.livejournal.com
Tobias isn't brooding. He doesn't brood. He just... looks like he is.

He sits cross-legged on the ground in front of the small house they've been working to restore. It's a poor attempt at a meditative position, but it is an attempt. He tries to do that whole deep, calm breathing thing, but it doesn't come very easily. Which is ironic because he never really had trouble staying calm before. It used to be his default mode, and now he has to struggle to stay centered and...

He sighs.

This doesn't seem to be working.

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