Hoodies and Cocktails: A Masochistic Self-Insert Fic

zeno518 does not own Avatar: The Last Airbender or Legend of Korra. We all know this. I also don't own anything that resembles or is outright stated to be something that does not even relate to the above intellectual properties.

One last thing; Dramatic moments will become absurd quickly.

Chapter 1: Welcome to Republic City, Leave Your Fedora's At the Door.

Another day of meaningless internet surfing.

Checking YouTube for subscription updates, checking for fave updates, checking the RP for updates, playing a little bit of League here and there, and then ordering pizza for dinner.

That was yesterday's, today's, and tomorrow's schedule for the foreseeable future.

A drab and lonely existence? Perhaps.

But it was an existence nonetheless.

Of course to the neighbors of the poor soul that lived by them would say "That guy has no life."

It was true, he did not have a proper social life. It never bothered him before moving away from his parents' home and it did not bother him now.

His only solace was that season two of The Legend of Korra was almost premiering. When suddenly Korra appeared before him and began ravagi d giausbiusd vas ivk asiub skjvu

"OH MY FUCKING GOD THIS SUCKS!" groaned the author as he slammed his head into the keyboard

He groaned in pain and then looked back up at his screen


More groaning, several cans of Mountain Dew, and a sit down in his own personal emo corner later and he had gotten over his self-pity.

Of course now he was doing his usual pathetic end to this routine of his; bowing at a little cluster of posters and fliers for numerous games, authors, and directors.

"Oh lords of awesomeness." he weeped "Why is it that I cannot be as glorious as thee?"

Soon the doorbell rang and the young man quickly rose to his feet and his depression was nonexistent

"Ooh! Pizza!"

He dashed over to the door and opened it, expecting a pizza delivery guy. Once he saw the person at the door however, his excitement became shock.

He shakily pointed at the person in front of him.

"Y-you're!" he squeaked

"Yeah. I'm that one guy." The man said with an eerily familiar voice

The man threw a burlap sack over the fanfic author's head and started dragging him along with his arms bound behind his back.

The author struggled as much as he could but soon found himself being thrown down, what felt like, a grassy hill. He rolled and rolled until he hit something hard, cold, and painful.

After a quick struggle, he was freed from his bindings and he stripped himself of the burlap sack and tossed it as far as he could throw it. He checked his surroundings and saw a sight so strange it was uncanny; an art deco poster with a strange character and a man in a hood and a white mask.

The teenage author backed away slowly and walked past the poster and towards the street. He peeked out and saw old-timey cars speeding down the avenue, people in old-timey clothes, and an old-timey lady listening to an old-timey radio.

With a fearful squeak, the teenager slinked back into the alley. With the utmost refined and godlike powers of deduction and reasoning he failed to notice that his 21st century moder slacker attire had changed to that of a 1930s era ragamuffin. To clarify; his cat eared beanie had become a slightly worn black fedora, his awesome band shirt had become a white button up shirt and black vest, his cargo pants became some kind of high waist black pants or slacks, and his Chuck Taylor Converse All-Stars (his favorite shoes of all freaking time) became some kind of weird shoe that he had no knowledge of the style. He still had his badass gloves on at least, that was a plus.

The teenager sat down on a conveniently placed box and rolled up his sleeves a bit past his elbows. He started to think and try and sort out his current predicament. He did it the only way he knew how; by talking to himself.

"OK, I'm in Republic City." he said to himself "My clothes have changed to fit the times and I'm pretty sure I'm thinner than I was back home."

It was true; he had dropped a good eighty pounds on his way there. He was no longer the pudgy three-quarter Mexican he was back home. Now if fate were kind, it would deny this teenager a mirror. Sadly for the rest of the world, there are reflective surfaces almost everywhere.

"I have all of my knowledge of season 1, that includes Amon's identity, that douche bag Water Tribe councilman douche bag's douche bag plans of douche baggery, Mr. Sato's bigotry and fat bastardness, the location of the rally and Sato's secret lab, and all of the other shark jumping bullshit that happened on this show." He said while waving his hands around, freaking out the passersby who saw him. "Hmm. Now all that leaves is what I'm going to do now."

His stomach roared with hunger stalling and derailing his train of thought.

"But first I have to figure out how I'm going to get money for food."

Almost as if the spirits of the world of Avatar themselves answered his unspoken prayer he felt a hollow wooden object hunk his head and fall into his lap. He blinked thrice in surprise and then looked at the object from the heavens.

"Ooh sweet." he said as he inspected it "An ocarina."

It was a professionally made 12 holed, blue ocarina. Sweet Potato's Ocarina of Time model. Though for some reason the Triforce wasn't anywhere to be found on the instrument. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he ignored it and played the first six notes of the Song of Storms.

"Sounds good." he muttered to himself.

If this were an actual cartoon there would be a large thought bubble above his head mapping out his master plan; picture of ocarina + crude drawing of himself plying said ocarina + pedestrians = $$$

The young author brushed his black hair back out of his eyes and leaped to his feet "It's brilliant brilliant brilliant!" He shouted.

Once again he managed to freak out several passing pedestrians.

Three songs from Ocarina of Time, Two songs from Majora's Mask, and a sweet cover of the Dark Cloud theme song later...

The young man was holding his fedora upside down and gazing at the contents within; the ocarina and 20 Yuans in small change. He was glowing with joy and was following some directions to the nearest ramen noodle stand.

"To easy." he said to himself "All I need is a weatherproof place to crash and I'm set for life. No parents nagging me, no social security BS, no internet to distract me, no TV or video games."

He stopped in his tracks "OK those last three things are actually a major bummer but my new sexy body is a good consolation."

He chuckled to himself and continued his self conversing "The best thing about poverty is that I can still maintain my figure!"

He stopped walking again. "OK, that was probably the most unmanly thing I have ever said. But it's true."

He shook his hat/money bin a little and listened to the coins and bills clink together "Oh this day can't possibly go wrong."

He should not have said that.

As he walked down the street he heard a familiar exchange.

"That'll be 20 Yuans." said an old kebob stand lady

"Uh..." said a teenaged Water Tribe gal "...I don't have any money?"

A scuffle could be heard "Then what good are you to me?"


This was the moment that the author's master plan had fallen to pieces. Despite every synapse in his brain telling him to ignore the girl and let the story run its course, a bigger and much more frightening voice in his head echoed throughout the large and hollow cranium.

"Si alguna vez dejas pasar la oportunidad de ayudar alguien en necesidad voy atormentar sus dias!" The voice of his nana was a voice you always listened to regardless of the language it spoke in.

So with much reluctance and pain, the teenage boy turned and ran up to the cart.

"I've got this!" he panted and thrusted the hat filled with money towards the cranky old lady.

He turned his head to the girl to confirm that it was her. Brown eyes met blue and a feeling of dread and "Get the fuck outta there" crept up the ocarina player's spine

He saw the look of happiness on her face as she thanked him and grabbed the twenty meat sticks from the vendor.

"At least some of you kids understand the concepts of money." said the vendor "Your mother must've raised you right boy."

He shrugged and sighed "Yeah, she did..."

With that his hat was taken and the money was dumped into a cash box and his ocarina was tossed back into the hat.

The teenager sniffled and put his fedora back. He stuffed his ocarina into his trouser pocket and shuffled away.

He kept walking

"Can this day get any worse."

Once again, something he said should not have been said.

"Hey wait!"

With a nervous stagger he started to walk a little faster, trying to get lost in the crowd and hope that Naga didn't have his scent.

"Hold up!"

So he began to run, his hands in his pockets and keeping his ocarina safe.

"I just want to talk!"

The traffic light changes and he's cut off by a river of passing cars.

"Shit!" he exclaims

He turns around and sees that Water Tribe girl riding on the back of a polar bear dog. Now that was a rare sentence,

He took a few deep breaths and started reviewing the cover story he thought of between songs; he was new in town, he was a traveling ocarinist, and if anyone asked him to join any sort of cause he would remain neutral.

He then went through a per-conversation checklist to make sure he had a clear cut goal for the inevitable conversation; be specific but not memorable, always look at your mark but don't stare, don't shift your weight, be funny but don't make them laugh, don't sue eight words when four will do, the other person has to like you then forget you when you're out of sight, and don't, under any circumstances-

"Found you."

There goes his train of thought. The young man at least had time to cook up a halfway decent name that wouldn't conflict or grate with the cast should he ever meet them. If he hadn't he'd probably have come up with some kind of half-assed name that was probably some combination of a Vocaloid and an arbitrary and obscure character from an original Xbox launch title.

He turned on his heels and looked into the face of the fluffy dog bear thingy "Yo."

With a deadpan expression he looked up at the main character of the good-but-rushed show. She had a kebab in her mouth and the rest inside a take-out box that was crammed in to a saddlebag. She was munching on her kebob and smiling at the author.

"You left before I could thank you." she said as she dismounted her companion

The ocarinist sighed and took off his hat. "Yeah, I was in a hurry."

She crossed her arms and leaned against her animal companion "Intimidated by little 'ol me?"

The ocarina playing teen bowed his head and put his hat back on, trying to hide his beet red face. "Somethin' like that."

The girl laughed and took out the take-out box. "I'm Korra. This is Naga."

She offered him a couple of kebobs, he took them with a thankful nod. She gave a few to Naga and the polar bear dog munched on them with gusto.

"Thanks." he said and then began nibbling one of the kebobs.

"So what's your name? Where are you from? Will you be my friend?" she said as she inched a little closer with every question.

The young man thought to himself that that was slightly out of character for the main protagonist, and he figured he might as well throw her a bone. Maybe even tell her to head to the park once she realizes that Naga ate all of the kebobs while she wasn't looking.

He adjusted his fedora and cleared his throat. "Tendou Eiji, nowhere in particular, and I'd settle for acquaintance."

Korra looked a little dejected at his denial of friendship but she bounced back quick enough.

The newly christened Eiji mentally patted himself on the back for his stroke of genius; Eiji and Tendou were Japanese names that could easily sound Fire Nation. It didn't match his Water Tribe appearance and would basically make him just another multi-ethnic citizen of the wonderful capital city of the United Republic of Nations.

Eiji decided to end the conversation now rather than drag things out and derail the plot even further.

"You're polar bear dog ate all of your kebobs." he said while pointing out the empty take out box

"Naga!" She said "Now what am I going to eat?"

Eiji chuckled and pointed off towards the park "If you head over to the park, there's a pond with some fish in it. Just watch out for the rent-a-cops walking the beat."

"Rent-a-cops?" she asked with a confused expression

"Yeah, the non benders that try to join the force are usually denied at the door, but they have to hire some non benders or the police will seem bigoted. These guys are usually just given minimal training, a small baton, and a whistle to deter petty crimes. As far as I can tell anyway." He explained/bullshitted to her "So every now and then you get some random guy or gal off the street who thinks they're a good enough bender to dish out some vigilante justice. They end up doing more damage to the street and businesses than the Triads do and they get locked up."

Eiji spun around and pointed at Korra "So try to keep the damage to the city a minimum, got it kid?"

Korra chuckled and waved "I'll keep that in mind. Thanks Eiji."

He tipped his hat and did a casual salute "You're welcome."

He saw the light change out of the corner of his eye and saw his opportunity to escape "Well, it was a pleasure to meet 'cha but I've gotta go see a man about a bet!"

Eiji couldn't have gotten out of that situation any faster. His only comfort was that he had managed to set her back onto the right track; she'd catch some fish, run into the protestor, get lost, fight some triads, and wind up in jail.

Now all he had to worry about is making enough money to get by.

If were ever that simple...