"Do have to?" Shun groaned, his posture slanted: his small boomerang failed to hold his interest.
"Of course!" Sokka exclaimed. "You can't sort out all hardships in life with bending, kid."
"And I can sort them out with a boomerang?" Shun asked, blinking blankly. His father huffed.
"You might! Oh, you'll see what it can do soon enough, you grump!" Sokka exclaimed, dismissing his skeptical son's glare. "Take up your positions!"
Shun sighed, though Yuuna seemed excited, instead. Hotaru smiled, raising her boomerang as well: unlike her siblings, she held it the right way, for Shun clasped it dismissively, whereas Yuuna was holding hers on the wrong end by accident, something Sokka was quick to correct upon noticing it.
Their training session in the garden was witnessed by a curious Azula from afar. She smiled from the garden's roofed corridor as Sokka instructed the children: Hotaru, unsurprisingly, was the only one who managed a decent first throw, but she failed to catch the boomerang on its way back. Yuuna and Shun had theirs bouncing on the ground – they scrambled after each of their assigned weapons at once, and it seemed that chasing down the boomerangs was more fun for them than learning how to throw them properly.
"Quite the spectacle they're putting on for you," a familiar, deep voice spoke near Azula. She smiled.
"It's serious, proper training. My entertainment is a secondary matter, Mom," Azula declared. Her mother laughed.
"No doubt," Ursa said. "You should join them. They'd listen to your instruction far more than to Sokka's…"
"Theoretically, yes, but… I don't know how to throw a boomerang," Azula said, simply.
"Truly? He never taught you?" Ursa asked. Azula shrugged and smiled.
"I suppose it was kind of… his thing? I never thought about… huh," Azula raised an eyebrow. Her mother's wrongful assumption had some merit…
"Well…" Ursa smiled, squeezing her shoulder gently: the kids had scattered, with Yuuna and Shun running off, arguing over something again while Hotaru promised her father that she'd reel them in. "If you'd like that to change, this is your chance."
Azula smiled too. She squeezed Ursa's hand gently before taking the plunge, stepping into the garden.
Sokka sighed in resignation as he picked up his children's dropped boomerangs when Azula stopped beside him.
"Oh, what can you do? Kids are too unruly to learn useful skills in life," Sokka said, dramatically. Azula smiled.
"Kids might be, yes. But… have you considered changing your target audience?" she asked. Sokka raised his eyebrows.
"Have I?"
He understood her intent right away. He smiled in grateful surprise, and Azula shrugged.
"My mom's idea. Frankly, I'm not sure why it never crossed our minds sooner," Azula laughed. "But, if you want an obedient pupil…"
"You? An obedient pupil?" Sokka smirked. Azula laughed again.
"Now, now! I can be, until I feel bold enough to challenge you at whatever skill you're teaching me," she said. "At least I can promise to take this more seriously than our kids. How about it?"
Sokka smiled: he stretched his hand towards Azula. Once she clasped it, he pulled her towards himself, making her twirl until she wound up with her back against his chest.
"No takebacks now. I will be… a ruthless, relentless teacher," he teased her. Azula laughed and nodded. "How does that sound?"
"Fascinating, clearly," Azula smiled. "I've always admired your most ruthless sides, love. Now, then, should I use one of theirs, or…?"
Sokka shook his head: he raised a hand to his shoulder, unsheathing his own boomerang. Azula hummed in surprise.
"For you, the very best," Sokka smirked. "I'm sure you can handle it."
She clasped it firmly with her left hand: Sokka nodded approvingly, placing his right over hers.
"Better grip than the kids. You're a natural," he teased her.
"I've had years of… well, seeing you hold it. You pick up a thing or two, if unintentionally," Azula reasoned. Sokka chuckled.
"Well, that's a good start. But now… flex your legs slightly, yes. You need stability, to stay grounded in order to do this…"
"Right, right…"
Their training, naturally, was more of a flirting session. Ursa smiled as she watched them from afar, ever relieved to see her daughter's face brightening whenever she was with her husband.
The older woman was of half a mind to leave when an unsurprising scream reached her ears.
"Yuuna! Stop! Mom, she's trying to stick a squirrel-toad down my shirt! Moooom!"
Ursa froze on the spot: Sokka sighed and dropped his head on Azula's shoulder. The kids chased each other – Yuuna, indeed, had a squirrel-toad perched at the end of a long stick, and she ran after her terrified brother, a delighted grin across her face. Hotaru chased after them, too, calling their names, failing to stop them.
"Oh, these kids…" Sokka groaned, glancing back towards them… only to glimpse, instead, as Ursa stepped into the garden, raising her hand, urging him to stay put.
"I'll handle them this time. You two… carry on. Boomerang training is very important," Ursa said. Sokka smirked.
"You know it. Thanks, Ursa!"
Azula bit her lip and smiled: Sokka wrapped his arms tighter around her, swaying in place briefly as Ursa took to calling the children, who knew better than to be too reckless around their grandmother.
"Sokka! This… is not stability. Nor do I feel grounded," Azula laughed: Sokka kissed her cheek, hugging her tightly before taking her hand in his once more. He ensured that she'd stand firmly, the boomerang gripped properly between their hands.
"Okay, okay… let's get serious. Aim, and…!"
Azula smiled as, for the first time, she threw Sokka's boomerang: he smiled at her as he caught it when it spun back towards them.
"My best student," he smiled.
"The best teacher," Azula decided, leaning in to kiss him fully, disregarding the noise behind them: her hand met his over the boomerang, once more.
i love love love love seeinf ur silly posts and headcanons abt star rail because they are perfect and true. you are not annoying you are simply correct and if you should wish to scream from the rooftops then i personally will buy you a megaphone -📢
WAAAH TYSM!!! THAT MAKES SO HAPPY TO HEAR YOU DONT EVEN KNOWWWWWWW 🥺🥺🥺🥺 <33333
warnings: mentions of guns, mentions of a minor injury
a/n: you can always count on me to have hurt/comfort to break through writers block. i’m still feeling pretty down, so don’t expect too much from me soon :’))
The room is silent for a moment as you begin to gather yourself. Within a few seconds, the bangs of a gun and clatter of bullets falling to the floor echo throughout the room. More to the left. Lower. There. You fall into a rhythm; inhale, shoot, exhale, repeat. Since there’s no clock in the training room, you’ve lost track of time. Was it day time? Was it nighttime? You’ll never know as you’ve been standing in the same position, repeating the same thing, trying to get it into perfection for countless hours. As you finish the magazine and begin to unload it, a heavy weight falls onto your chest, reminding you why you have spent so much time in these four concrete walls.
Placing the gun down, you reach for another magazine when a soft, red glow encases your hand, effectively stopping it from moving. Wait, when did she get here? For the first time since entering the room, you feel the aches in your legs and your arms as they slightly tremble due to exhaustion. A pair of soft hands grasp your headphones and slowly take them off, pulling your head back to lean against whoever is behind you. Sighing, you close your eyes and let yourself melt into their embrace, feeling their arms wrap around your waist. You feel a warm puff of air against your ear before they begin to speak.
“What are you still doing here, moya lyubov?”
You mumble, “Working on my aim.”
“How long have you been here for?”
The room falls quiet as you begin to think about it, unsure of how to answer or if you even know the answer.
She sighs, “Baby, it’s 4am and if I recall, you left the bedroom this morning at around 10am.”
Shit, you really did lose track of time.
Continuing, Wanda asks, “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why have you spent this much time shooting at targets? Your aim is practically perfect.”
“There’s always room for improvement, Wans.”
“But-”
“My aim can’t be practically perfect, it has to be perfect. If I’m going to be an Avenger, I have to have perfect aim.”
You move your head away from her chest, staring at the targets in front of you, all of which are riddled with bullet holes. Frustrated, you begin to rub your face with your hands, scrunching up your nose while you do it. It’s almost as if you’re trying to rub away the feeling of failure and disappointment. Wanda softly turns you in her arms so that she can take a look at you. She reaches for your hands covering your face and pulls them away, her eyes softening as she takes in the exhaustion evident on your face. As she takes your hands, your eyes fall to the ground, unable to look at Wanda.
In a soft and whisper-like voice, “Detka, look at me, please.”
Giving in to her plea, you look up and meet her ocean eyes. Her eyebrows furrow as she drops your hands to cup your face. Your gaze falls to her shoulders where a patch of gauze is peeking out from under her shirt. Tears begin to gather in your eyes as you tuck your chin to your chest, avoiding eye contact. The pads of Wanda’s thumbs gently brush away the tears as she pulls you into her chest and kisses your temple. The sounds of a gun firing are replaced with painful sobs, each one creating a small crack in Wanda’s heart. She never wanted to see you in pain and just listening to how hurt you are, pained her as well.
The two of you stay in that position until your sobs begin to quiet down and you find yourself gripping Wanda’s shirt as if you were scared she was going to leave you. Once again, the room falls silent with a few hiccups and sniffles here and there. Breaking the silence, Wanda asks, “Was this about the mission?”
Unable to give her a verbal response, you nod against her chest. She lets out a soft hum of concern and tells you, “It’s not your fault, please don’t beat yourself up about it.”
In a quiet and broken voice, you respond, “Wans, it is my fault though. You shouldn’t have gotten hurt on that mission.”
“Love, we all make mistakes and that’s okay.”
Gripping her shirt even tighter, you say in a louder voice, “But this wasn’t okay! I hurt you, Wanda! I. Hurt. You.” With the last three words, tears begin to fall again and you can’t help but let out a small sob.
Wanda pulls away from you and hooks her finger under your chin, pulling it up until you make eye contact with her. Your tears drip onto her finger as her eyes are filled with worry and concern.
“I’m okay, Y/N. I’m alive.”
“But, you’re still hurt because of me. If I didn’t miss that shot, you wouldn’t have a bandage on your shoulder and I would’ve kept my promise.”
“It was just a graze and you did keep your promise though. You protected me from that Hydra agent. If you didn’t shoot then that Hydra agent would’ve gotten me and things would’ve been much more serious.”
“I just- I-”
At a loss for words, you lean your forehead on Wanda’s uninjured shoulder and sigh. She slowly runs her hands up and down your back, providing you with much needed comfort. Taking in a few deep breaths, you ask, “What if- what if I’m not good enough for you? What I did feels unforgivable considering you’re my girlfriend and I promised to never hurt you.”
“Oh, moya lyubov, you will always be good enough for me, no matter what. Accidents happen and I know that you would never intentionally hurt me, so don’t worry about your promise, you never broke it. I still love you through and through, Y/N.”
A weight is lifted off of your chest upon hearing Wanda’s words. Your tense shoulders sag down in exhaustion as you begin to lean more heavily on her. She lets out a small chuckle, “Someone’s tired, huh?” You lightly smile and nod against her shoulder. Wrapping an arm around your waist, she begins to lead you out of the room. Maybe you’ll never reach perfection, but as long as you’re good enough in Wanda’s eyes, that’s all that matters.
tag list (marvel): @imnotasuperhero @peggycarter-steverogers @natasharomanoffswife @nat-romanoffdanvers @aaron-despair @melancholymaz
