Young Avengers question: who did I write this for?
Monday, January 18th, 2010 07:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tsaikoOkay, while going through my files I came across a fragment I'd written for a Young Avengers AU. The length and the style of writing make me think I wrote it as a response to someone's request or for someone. The problem? I have no idea who it was. It's not written in my normal style. I think I was trying to write in a style similar to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
attilatehbun's, which makes me think it might be her I wrote it for. But that's just a guess
So... anyone on my friend's list recognize the following bit of story?
He has the dim feeling (later, he'll stop using that word) that this, this sudden flick-of-a-switch transition from nothing to consciousness, is not how it's supposed to go, but when his mind reaches on reflex to find an example of what it ought to be, there's nothing. Quite possibly it's because he is too busy trying to get use to being corporeal again: to fill his lungs with oxygen, to feel his heart beat in his chest, to control the tightening spasms of his muscles as they struggle to obey. Somehow, in the three years since his death, Teddy had forgotten how to live.
Billy was there. He was speaking and Teddy knew he really should listen to the words, but putting meaning to sound seemed just beyond him right now. But that didn't stop him just listening to tone of Billy's voice. There was worry in the strained syllables, a note of panic in the way his words kept falling over each other to be heard.
Words were beyond Teddy right now, but there were other ways he could get Billy to stop babbling. When he thought he had everything under control, Teddy decided to give Billy a smile. He raised his head and forced the corners of his mouth up. It felt shaky, a wobbly smile that was slightly off-kilter, but when Billy returned it with a smile of his own, Teddy knew everything was going to be all right.
Which was about the time his stomach rebelled and he threw up acid and bile all over Billy's shoes.
Well. That wasn't as reassuring as he'd meant it to be.
At least I know which story this belongs to.
attilatehbun's, which makes me think it might be her I wrote it for. But that's just a guessSo... anyone on my friend's list recognize the following bit of story?
He has the dim feeling (later, he'll stop using that word) that this, this sudden flick-of-a-switch transition from nothing to consciousness, is not how it's supposed to go, but when his mind reaches on reflex to find an example of what it ought to be, there's nothing. Quite possibly it's because he is too busy trying to get use to being corporeal again: to fill his lungs with oxygen, to feel his heart beat in his chest, to control the tightening spasms of his muscles as they struggle to obey. Somehow, in the three years since his death, Teddy had forgotten how to live.
Billy was there. He was speaking and Teddy knew he really should listen to the words, but putting meaning to sound seemed just beyond him right now. But that didn't stop him just listening to tone of Billy's voice. There was worry in the strained syllables, a note of panic in the way his words kept falling over each other to be heard.
Words were beyond Teddy right now, but there were other ways he could get Billy to stop babbling. When he thought he had everything under control, Teddy decided to give Billy a smile. He raised his head and forced the corners of his mouth up. It felt shaky, a wobbly smile that was slightly off-kilter, but when Billy returned it with a smile of his own, Teddy knew everything was going to be all right.
Which was about the time his stomach rebelled and he threw up acid and bile all over Billy's shoes.
Well. That wasn't as reassuring as he'd meant it to be.
At least I know which story this belongs to.
