Tumblr crosspost (8 November 2019)
Jul. 31st, 2021 05:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
anghraineI reblogged a fic snippet I wrote in Sep 2012:
I wrote Noarra fluff?
Because … um. Because obviously this pairing is for schmaltzy teenage romance? (Time travel, like threesomes, solves everything! But this is not a threesome, because Tarrlok is eleven.)
Anyway! This takes place somewhere in the iceberg!verse (to sum up, Aang dies in the Air Nomad genocide, Korra is born 100+ years early, seals herself into the iceberg at thirteen, is discovered by Noatak and Tarrlok), so it’s mildly spoilery for the future of that.
-
The first night alone would have killed almost anyone else. It was deep winter, cold clawing at them even through their heavy furs. Snow fell so thickly that they could see little more than a foot ahead of them; Noatak and Tarrlok depended more on blood than sight, while Korra kept stumbling into them and Naga.
Exasperated, Noatak finally grabbed her left hand and ordered Tarrlok to take her right one, the three of them filing across the blank landscape, Naga plodding beside them. She carried them a good deal of the time, but Korra and Noatak had agreed that they couldn’t risk exhausting her.
They’d reached a delicate truce. Neither could spare the energy for fighting. Tarrlok helped as much as he could, of course, but he was only eleven—smaller and weaker than them, and though still a far more skilled waterbender than Korra, he tired more easily after the hours of walking. They all knew it was Noatak’s perfect control over the ice and Korra’s firebending that kept them going.
It felt, sometimes, as if they might keep going forever. Noatak and Tarrlok had only been to the city twice, and knew it more from their father’s maps than their own dim memories. Between the stars and Korra’s unerring sense of direction, though, Noatak assured them that they’d get there eventually.
“You’re sure?” Korra asked one night, after Tarrlok had drifted off.
Noatak poked at the fire. “Yes.”
Maybe she’d been around them too long. That sounded positively friendly. Korra folded her arms over her knees and rested her chin on them, looking thoughtfully at Noatak. The firelight danced oddly over his face, illuminating one half and throwing the rest into shadow. His eyes were narrowed a little, his thin brows low.
Korra frowned back at him. “But you’re worried about something. I can tell.”
“Mom’s from the city. It’s why she never learned proper waterbending, just healing. That’s all women learn, usually. At least she says so.”
“Well, that’s stupid,” said Korra. “But I’m sure someone will teach me.”
“Probably,” he said indifferently.
“I’m the Avatar!”
Noatak’s lips twitched. “Yeah, you might have mentioned it once or twice. Today.” He went back to poking at the fire. “My mother’s not. She could have been a good waterbender, though. Not like me or Tarrlok, but—it’s not fair.”
“Of course it’s not fair,” said Korra. “It doesn’t even make sense. We need all the waterbenders we can get!” She considered him. “Are you worried about your mom? Alone with Yakone?”
“He won’t hurt her.”
Korra felt a flicker of annoyance. A lot of the time, she didn’t really get what he was going on about. At first, she’d assumed he was simply a jerk who liked feeling superior, but—well, now things were different, of course. He was still a jerk, but a really messed-up one who usually had reasons for what he did. She just … she often didn’t see them, she had to fumble around to understand what he even meant, and it made her feel stupid. She wasn’t, but she didn’t see the world he did.
Even Tarrlok seemed to get it more easily. Well, Tarrlok was his brother, and they’d been through—her mind flinched away from thinking too hard about exactly what their lives had been. But they’d been through a lot together. Besides, Tarrlok was clever in an odd, slippery sort of way, of course he could understand.
“The sages said the world’s not fair,” Korra hazarded.
Noatak’s hands clenched. “It should be!”
“Well, don’t snarl at me about it! It’s not my fault. It’s not even my tribe that’s unfair.” She straightened up, proud. “My uncle said my mom fought as a waterbender and my dad was a healer. That’s why the Fire Nation took her first.”
“The Fire Nation,” Noatak muttered, and kicked some snow.
She remembered the story he’d told her the day they met. His father’s family sounded even creepier now, but they’d probably done some good. That Fire Nation admiral Yakone had assassinated—she had a weird feeling about that. Her gut told her the world was a better place without him. And whatever all those bloodbenders had done and been, it didn’t mean they deserved to be burned alive.
“I’ve got to master the elements and take out Fire Lord Azula and defeat the Fire Nation,” Korra said firmly. Then she managed a nervous smile, feeling almost shy, and then embarrassed about it. She was never shy. “But after that, maybe - maybe we can try fixing the world. That’s sort of my job too, isn’t it?”
“It depends on how you define balance, I guess.” His eyes darted up at her, then back down at the fire. He must be sitting too close to the flames, she thought, her pulse picking up for some reason. His cheeks looked sort of red. “Yes. I mean—that’s—I think so.”
He glanced up at her again. There was a strange expression on his face, one she’d never seen before. He looked open and hopeful, more even than Tarrlok had ever been. Korra grinned widely.
“Good,” she said. She hadn’t looked away from him yet, and she thought maybe she should. She gulped. “You’ll have to help me, though. You look at things differently. And—well—I’m the Avatar and you’ve got to be one of the most powerful waterbenders in the world, and—” She started to feel her cheeks heating, too. She glanced away, at the sleeping bag in the corner. “And Tarrlok’s not far behind you! We’ll be able to do anything, don’t you think?”
“Yes,” said Noatak, his voice thick. She couldn’t help looking back at him. Now, his expression seemed not just hopeful, but fierce. His blue eyes were still intent on her.
For the first time, Korra didn’t have that odd feeling of gazing into a twisted reflection when she saw him. He wasn’t a creepy boy version of her, and he wasn’t even the annoying waterbender she had to get along with because of … something. He was just Noatak, talented and smart and determined and resourceful and, it had just occurred to her, really good-looking.
Well, she wasn’t just going to sit here. He was staring at her, and—and—it wasn’t like she didn’t have a chance, right? She was special. She was the Avatar. There was nobody like her in the world.
Korra took a deep breath and scrambled to her feet. Her nerves sustained her through two steps forward and around the fire; then she stumbled to a halt.
“Um,” she said. Her palms were sweating. Could he tell? What if he could hear her heart pounding? Spirits, falling for a bloodbender was the worst thing ever.
“Noatak—”
“Korra, I—”
Tarrlok stirred in his sleeping bag, muttering to himself. Korra and Noatak froze. Then they both laughed under their breaths, still nervous.
“C'mon,” said Noatak, and led her outside. It was dark and cold, and the moon was almost full; Korra felt oddly torn between strength and weakness. Fire, her favourite element, burned low in her, a bare flicker of power—but water, her native element, the one flowing in them both, seemed a dull roar in her ears. Though maybe that wasn’t all waterbending.
Noatak said nothing, waiting for her to go first. Just like him, wasn’t it? Korra shivered and managed to light a flame on her hands, holding it awkwardly between them. I’m the Avatar. I’m the Avatar, she chanted at herself. I can do this.
“Noatak, I like you,” she blurted out. “Uh, not like Tarrlok. Way more. Except when you’re being a jerk. Um—”
“Thanks?” he said.
“Ugh, this is all coming out wrong!”
Noatak laughed. Korra looked up from her flame (which promptly went out), relieved to see that, for once, he wasn’t offended. He was smiling. “No, it’s okay,” he said, and Korra watched interestedly as he wet his bottom lip. “I—Korra—I … sometimes I say things, but I don’t mean—um—I know it’s not practical but -”
“You talk too much,” Korra told him, and pressed her lips against his. She spared a moment of gratitude that she hadn’t gotten anything wrong, and they both had small noses; then, Noatak—who had frozen for a moment in pure shock—was kissing her back, his hands fumbling at her waist and hers grasping at his anorak. They broke apart just as she’d started to get lightheaded.
For a second, he just looked dazed. Korra, with little noticeable success, tried not to smirk. She was still grinning when his eyes cleared and his hands dropped. She didn’t really feel the need to release her own grip.
Noatak opened his mouth again, probably to say something else about how impractical it was for them to be together. Korra just kissed him again.
I wrote Noarra fluff?
Because … um. Because obviously this pairing is for schmaltzy teenage romance? (Time travel, like threesomes, solves everything! But this is not a threesome, because Tarrlok is eleven.)
Anyway! This takes place somewhere in the iceberg!verse (to sum up, Aang dies in the Air Nomad genocide, Korra is born 100+ years early, seals herself into the iceberg at thirteen, is discovered by Noatak and Tarrlok), so it’s mildly spoilery for the future of that.
-
The first night alone would have killed almost anyone else. It was deep winter, cold clawing at them even through their heavy furs. Snow fell so thickly that they could see little more than a foot ahead of them; Noatak and Tarrlok depended more on blood than sight, while Korra kept stumbling into them and Naga.
Exasperated, Noatak finally grabbed her left hand and ordered Tarrlok to take her right one, the three of them filing across the blank landscape, Naga plodding beside them. She carried them a good deal of the time, but Korra and Noatak had agreed that they couldn’t risk exhausting her.
They’d reached a delicate truce. Neither could spare the energy for fighting. Tarrlok helped as much as he could, of course, but he was only eleven—smaller and weaker than them, and though still a far more skilled waterbender than Korra, he tired more easily after the hours of walking. They all knew it was Noatak’s perfect control over the ice and Korra’s firebending that kept them going.
It felt, sometimes, as if they might keep going forever. Noatak and Tarrlok had only been to the city twice, and knew it more from their father’s maps than their own dim memories. Between the stars and Korra’s unerring sense of direction, though, Noatak assured them that they’d get there eventually.
“You’re sure?” Korra asked one night, after Tarrlok had drifted off.
Noatak poked at the fire. “Yes.”
Maybe she’d been around them too long. That sounded positively friendly. Korra folded her arms over her knees and rested her chin on them, looking thoughtfully at Noatak. The firelight danced oddly over his face, illuminating one half and throwing the rest into shadow. His eyes were narrowed a little, his thin brows low.
Korra frowned back at him. “But you’re worried about something. I can tell.”
“Mom’s from the city. It’s why she never learned proper waterbending, just healing. That’s all women learn, usually. At least she says so.”
“Well, that’s stupid,” said Korra. “But I’m sure someone will teach me.”
“Probably,” he said indifferently.
“I’m the Avatar!”
Noatak’s lips twitched. “Yeah, you might have mentioned it once or twice. Today.” He went back to poking at the fire. “My mother’s not. She could have been a good waterbender, though. Not like me or Tarrlok, but—it’s not fair.”
“Of course it’s not fair,” said Korra. “It doesn’t even make sense. We need all the waterbenders we can get!” She considered him. “Are you worried about your mom? Alone with Yakone?”
“He won’t hurt her.”
Korra felt a flicker of annoyance. A lot of the time, she didn’t really get what he was going on about. At first, she’d assumed he was simply a jerk who liked feeling superior, but—well, now things were different, of course. He was still a jerk, but a really messed-up one who usually had reasons for what he did. She just … she often didn’t see them, she had to fumble around to understand what he even meant, and it made her feel stupid. She wasn’t, but she didn’t see the world he did.
Even Tarrlok seemed to get it more easily. Well, Tarrlok was his brother, and they’d been through—her mind flinched away from thinking too hard about exactly what their lives had been. But they’d been through a lot together. Besides, Tarrlok was clever in an odd, slippery sort of way, of course he could understand.
“The sages said the world’s not fair,” Korra hazarded.
Noatak’s hands clenched. “It should be!”
“Well, don’t snarl at me about it! It’s not my fault. It’s not even my tribe that’s unfair.” She straightened up, proud. “My uncle said my mom fought as a waterbender and my dad was a healer. That’s why the Fire Nation took her first.”
“The Fire Nation,” Noatak muttered, and kicked some snow.
She remembered the story he’d told her the day they met. His father’s family sounded even creepier now, but they’d probably done some good. That Fire Nation admiral Yakone had assassinated—she had a weird feeling about that. Her gut told her the world was a better place without him. And whatever all those bloodbenders had done and been, it didn’t mean they deserved to be burned alive.
“I’ve got to master the elements and take out Fire Lord Azula and defeat the Fire Nation,” Korra said firmly. Then she managed a nervous smile, feeling almost shy, and then embarrassed about it. She was never shy. “But after that, maybe - maybe we can try fixing the world. That’s sort of my job too, isn’t it?”
“It depends on how you define balance, I guess.” His eyes darted up at her, then back down at the fire. He must be sitting too close to the flames, she thought, her pulse picking up for some reason. His cheeks looked sort of red. “Yes. I mean—that’s—I think so.”
He glanced up at her again. There was a strange expression on his face, one she’d never seen before. He looked open and hopeful, more even than Tarrlok had ever been. Korra grinned widely.
“Good,” she said. She hadn’t looked away from him yet, and she thought maybe she should. She gulped. “You’ll have to help me, though. You look at things differently. And—well—I’m the Avatar and you’ve got to be one of the most powerful waterbenders in the world, and—” She started to feel her cheeks heating, too. She glanced away, at the sleeping bag in the corner. “And Tarrlok’s not far behind you! We’ll be able to do anything, don’t you think?”
“Yes,” said Noatak, his voice thick. She couldn’t help looking back at him. Now, his expression seemed not just hopeful, but fierce. His blue eyes were still intent on her.
For the first time, Korra didn’t have that odd feeling of gazing into a twisted reflection when she saw him. He wasn’t a creepy boy version of her, and he wasn’t even the annoying waterbender she had to get along with because of … something. He was just Noatak, talented and smart and determined and resourceful and, it had just occurred to her, really good-looking.
Well, she wasn’t just going to sit here. He was staring at her, and—and—it wasn’t like she didn’t have a chance, right? She was special. She was the Avatar. There was nobody like her in the world.
Korra took a deep breath and scrambled to her feet. Her nerves sustained her through two steps forward and around the fire; then she stumbled to a halt.
“Um,” she said. Her palms were sweating. Could he tell? What if he could hear her heart pounding? Spirits, falling for a bloodbender was the worst thing ever.
“Noatak—”
“Korra, I—”
Tarrlok stirred in his sleeping bag, muttering to himself. Korra and Noatak froze. Then they both laughed under their breaths, still nervous.
“C'mon,” said Noatak, and led her outside. It was dark and cold, and the moon was almost full; Korra felt oddly torn between strength and weakness. Fire, her favourite element, burned low in her, a bare flicker of power—but water, her native element, the one flowing in them both, seemed a dull roar in her ears. Though maybe that wasn’t all waterbending.
Noatak said nothing, waiting for her to go first. Just like him, wasn’t it? Korra shivered and managed to light a flame on her hands, holding it awkwardly between them. I’m the Avatar. I’m the Avatar, she chanted at herself. I can do this.
“Noatak, I like you,” she blurted out. “Uh, not like Tarrlok. Way more. Except when you’re being a jerk. Um—”
“Thanks?” he said.
“Ugh, this is all coming out wrong!”
Noatak laughed. Korra looked up from her flame (which promptly went out), relieved to see that, for once, he wasn’t offended. He was smiling. “No, it’s okay,” he said, and Korra watched interestedly as he wet his bottom lip. “I—Korra—I … sometimes I say things, but I don’t mean—um—I know it’s not practical but -”
“You talk too much,” Korra told him, and pressed her lips against his. She spared a moment of gratitude that she hadn’t gotten anything wrong, and they both had small noses; then, Noatak—who had frozen for a moment in pure shock—was kissing her back, his hands fumbling at her waist and hers grasping at his anorak. They broke apart just as she’d started to get lightheaded.
For a second, he just looked dazed. Korra, with little noticeable success, tried not to smirk. She was still grinning when his eyes cleared and his hands dropped. She didn’t really feel the need to release her own grip.
Noatak opened his mouth again, probably to say something else about how impractical it was for them to be together. Korra just kissed him again.