They Make a Pill For That
Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Rating: G or K
Words: 445
Genre: Gen
Characters/Pairings: OCs
Warnings: Children being medicated. It's not forced but some people feel strongly about it so I'm putting up a warning.
Summary: Modern medicine has a solution for everything. Set about fifty years post LoK
AN: Written for Prompt 58: Silence, for avatar_500
Yun sat on the exam table in the doctor's office. She wondered why they were called tables when they had a cushion like a bed. Then again they weren't that soft or comfortable so maybe table was a better word.
The constant buzz of her fire sounded in her brain, begging for release. She clenched her fists together to hold it in.
Her mother's voice drifted in from the hallway. She was trying to talk quietly but she was still loud enough for Yun to hear.
“She can't control it. I've had to move three times because she keeps setting the house on fire in her sleep.”
The doctor, who was much better at whispering than Yun's mother was, said something in reply.
“I don't have the time or money for lessons, and even then, she'd never get a decent job. You know how people feel about firebenders. Yun is a smart girl and she deserves better.”
He said something else, and Yun's mother turned cheery. “Really? Covered by most prescription plans? That's perfect.”
An hour later they stood at the pharmacy counter. A lady in a blue coat the same as the doctor's handed Yun's mother a bag. Inside it something rattled. Yun's mother hurried out to the car, dragging Yun behind her.
Once they were home, Yun's mother rushed to the kitchen with the bag. Yun turned on the television and sat on the couch. On the screen was a cartoon where a polar bear dog chased a fire ferret through a desert. Yun knew that polar bear dogs didn't belong in the desert, and they didn't order contraptions from catalogs, but that was what made it funny.
Also, the noise of the television drowned out the buzzing most days.
Yun's mother appeared next to her with a glass of water in one hand and a small white oval in the other. “Here you go,” she said, her voice high and bright. “It's chewable.”
Yun popped it in her mouth, chewed, swallowed, and chased it with some water.
“Feel anything?” her mother asked.
She shrugged, her eyes still on the TV screen.
“Okay, sweetheart. Lunch in a little while.”
She went off. Yun sank down on the couch. After a while, her eyes began to droop. Why was she so tired? It wasn't even noon.
On the TV the ferret squeaked as the polar bear dog ran past him off a cliff, but Yun couldn't muster the energy to laugh. It occurred to her that the buzzing in her head had gone quiet, but she didn't have time to dwell on that before she fell asleep.
Rating: G or K
Words: 445
Genre: Gen
Characters/Pairings: OCs
Warnings: Children being medicated. It's not forced but some people feel strongly about it so I'm putting up a warning.
Summary: Modern medicine has a solution for everything. Set about fifty years post LoK
AN: Written for Prompt 58: Silence, for avatar_500
Yun sat on the exam table in the doctor's office. She wondered why they were called tables when they had a cushion like a bed. Then again they weren't that soft or comfortable so maybe table was a better word.
The constant buzz of her fire sounded in her brain, begging for release. She clenched her fists together to hold it in.
Her mother's voice drifted in from the hallway. She was trying to talk quietly but she was still loud enough for Yun to hear.
“She can't control it. I've had to move three times because she keeps setting the house on fire in her sleep.”
The doctor, who was much better at whispering than Yun's mother was, said something in reply.
“I don't have the time or money for lessons, and even then, she'd never get a decent job. You know how people feel about firebenders. Yun is a smart girl and she deserves better.”
He said something else, and Yun's mother turned cheery. “Really? Covered by most prescription plans? That's perfect.”
An hour later they stood at the pharmacy counter. A lady in a blue coat the same as the doctor's handed Yun's mother a bag. Inside it something rattled. Yun's mother hurried out to the car, dragging Yun behind her.
Once they were home, Yun's mother rushed to the kitchen with the bag. Yun turned on the television and sat on the couch. On the screen was a cartoon where a polar bear dog chased a fire ferret through a desert. Yun knew that polar bear dogs didn't belong in the desert, and they didn't order contraptions from catalogs, but that was what made it funny.
Also, the noise of the television drowned out the buzzing most days.
Yun's mother appeared next to her with a glass of water in one hand and a small white oval in the other. “Here you go,” she said, her voice high and bright. “It's chewable.”
Yun popped it in her mouth, chewed, swallowed, and chased it with some water.
“Feel anything?” her mother asked.
She shrugged, her eyes still on the TV screen.
“Okay, sweetheart. Lunch in a little while.”
She went off. Yun sank down on the couch. After a while, her eyes began to droop. Why was she so tired? It wasn't even noon.
On the TV the ferret squeaked as the polar bear dog ran past him off a cliff, but Yun couldn't muster the energy to laugh. It occurred to her that the buzzing in her head had gone quiet, but she didn't have time to dwell on that before she fell asleep.