weirdlet

Okay, folks- I got art I need to be doing, stories I'm working on but which aren't gelling, and some things have been said that are setting me off in a 'yeah, you're right!' direction. SO. What we have here, is a Jetko meme. I get to work on one of my favorite pairings whilst trying to get more into their heads (Jet in particular is a slippery bugger), and we all get some hot starcrossed boy-love. Or hate. Whatever you like.

Give me a prompt, a sentence, a song, whatever; any AU/universe in progress you like, just so long as you keep to this restriction- no rape.

Two prompts per person, promise of one ficbit, standard not-very-fast warning applies.

Do have at it!

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From:

weirdlet.livejournal.com

Jet has been skeptical of this entire venture from the get-go. There can’t be anything worth doing in an ancient Firebender ruin but kicking over rocks and scoring back a few points of pride- but not while the very grouchy-looking natives outnumber you twenty to one and are looking on with the distinct impression that they don’t take kindly to vandalism.

So he holds his tongue and palms the hilts of his swords, and listens for anything useful amidst the blather about light and life.

Li-that-traitor-witch-Zuka is standing next to Aang and taking it all in, acting like a student with a new master, or what he thinks a student might be like- humble and contrite were not words he would have associated with the Li who burned angry and repressed, wearing an ill-fitting skin (this skin doesn’t fit her either, but she’s not fighting as hard against it). She takes a handful of the fire that the big chief pulls from the roaring stone hearth, and holds it in steady hands with a look of reverence. The Avatar joins her, flinching, and they’re turned towards their destination, a distant mountaintop.

Spears close when Jet turns to follow, and his blades leap out in response.

“You do not carry tribute for the masters- this is not your journey!”

“Oh the hell it’s not,” he snarls, and if he’s grinning while he does it it’s only because his blood’s singing. “You think I’m letting those two out of my sight on this crazy quest? You got another thing coming.”

More spears rattle and fire leaps to hand in the crowd of many and Jet grins and his hooks flash sharp.

The chief looks him up and down, lips pursed. And just when Jet’s about to say to hell with it and leap he smirks, and parts the crowd with a wave of his hand.

“You shall be judged worthy, along with the supplicants. Go and face this trial, young man- it shall not be the least of yours.”

Well. Cryptic and it galls to do anything a firebender says- even one who doesn’t seem to be toeing the Fire Nation line- but better to leave these fellows for another day and concentrate on the one firebender he knows he’s got a problem with.

It’s a long walk to the peaks.

Zuka and Aang are chatting with each other, Aang being afraid his flame might go out and Zuka advising him to be bolder, to give it more juice.

Jet whistles a jaunty tune and strides alongside them, unburdened. He thinks he can get Zuka to snap if he keeps it up long enough.

He’s right. She doesn’t drop her flame the way Aang keeps threatening to, but he can make that pale-as-ash skin flush red as a beacon and rage snort out of her nostrils, and it’s good to know, even after having his read of her turn out completely wrong, he can still effect some positive change in the world. Pissing off royal firebenders? Good in his book.

She owes him a lot for what happened after the arrest, and if it weren’t for the fact that he’s trying to stay on the Avatar’s good side? This would just be a start.

He’s working on getting a third explosion out of her when they reach the base of an enormous stone staircase to nowhere, and the fire-worshippers are waiting for them. All that lovely ire he’s managed to raise drains from her as she faces the chief and his cohorts, listens to his final admonishments before they take part in this ‘trial.’

“Facing the judgment of the fire-bending masters will be very dangerous for you- your ancestors are directly responsible for the dragons’ disappearance. The masters might not be so happy to see you.”

“I know I wouldn’t…” Jet flicks a glare at the skinny guy who’s putting the intimidation on his evil princess. She doesn’t seem to take it, though- she flicks her eyes down, staring into the heart of the flame she carries below her breasts.

“That’s a chance we’ll have to take.”

From:

weirdlet.livejournal.com

The three of them make their way up the stairs, while below the Sun Warriors are chanting and gesturing with flame. Some joker blows a giant horn, and Jet stands between the two bowing benders and waits to see what all this earth-shaking is about.

When the dragons explode out of the tunnels, he swings wide his blades, stands at guard, and dares them to try and take the three of them.

I’ve stood up to your mad children, your destroyers, your legacy! I’ve taken all I will ever take from them- now come and get some from me!

He doesn’t know the steps of the dance- but his own beat seems to be entertaining enough. The big lizards open their jaws wide and roar. A firestorm spirals around them, pressing them all back against each other, and sweat pours off him as he fights not to scream.

Aang’s on his left side, Zuka on his right, and all around there’s fire it’s burning it’s screaming there’s crackling sparking burning and the timbers crumble and his family is ash-

seedlings creep through the crust, flaring open to the sun-

a tiny hand jerks away from the kettle, and his mother kisses the blister-

his breath steams as he chafes his hands, waiting for the kindling to flare-

the surge in his breast when he knows he’s not going to lose this batch of orphans to anyone’s blades-

the lifespark the surge in the belly and the brain and the race along the pathway, head to hand and back again water makes the pathway fire signals along it-

Fever. Scars in the woodlands. Light in the dark. Light in the eye of a Freedom Fighter, every time he’s told them what they need to hear. Rhythm and rhyme and the thunder of breathing.

Zuka makes a sort of gasping sound next to him, and he starts to jerk his hand away from where they’re brushing together. The colors are swirling madly, a riot across the eyes, and Aang’s just taking it all in and Zuka mutters something, like ‘I understand’.

What’s there to understand?

Fire is scary shit.

His hands are shaking, his swords have slipped and clattered to the ground from slick palms.

But he’s not dead.

He’s not dead, and the firebenders (reawakened, newly inducted) haven’t gone berserk, and the giant lizards have scuttled back to their holes.

“That was it? A light-show and some scorched eyebrows?” he mocks, not sweating or shaking at all, thank you, really. Aang’s looking at him, and Zuka’s pointedly not, and he casually holsters his blades and struts down behind the two of them to greet the chief.

The two of them have what they came for- good. If he can get out of here before someone tries to tell him that there’s fire in him too, so much the better.

From:

attackfish.livejournal.com

I'm overcome with awwww. And ear plugs, Aang wants them. *snicker*

I loved the way you described what the fire showed Jet (and his deep deep denial. It's really powerful.