Disclaimer: "I don't need a friend who makes fun of me." "Well, I'll be a friend that supports you, then." "You can start by helping me kill those two."

(An: Well, I stumbled upon one of those hundred themes lists… since I was just getting into Longerbee, I decided what the hey! 100 Longerbee drabbles (and by drabbles, I mean -exactly- 100 words each time) couldn't be that hard. I believe it's taken me a month to write this… good Lord. However, when I got to twenty, I found a story forming. This isn't exactly coherent, and some of it might be repetitive… but it's hard writing about one couple for that long. This is one of those stories in which I use pronouns to refer to the main characters only... their names only show up once. So if there's a "he", it's probably Longshot, even though Jet makes quite a few cameos. Please tell me if anything comes off as too confusing, though. -sweatdrop-)

11: Memory

She made a strong impression right from the start.

The girl's story was far too familiar- village burned, world shattered. The livid scars on her cheeks made his fingers twitch to his bandages; the old marks beneath them still ached whenever rain approached.

But the defiance in her large eyes was much different. She didn't blindly accept change, she fought it. She hadn't let it break her like he had. Instead of losing her voice, she made sure everyone who hurt her heard it.

She still seemed relieved, however, when she found out that she didn't have to fight him.

15: Silence

It was really kind of soothing, she thought, that he didn't speak. He couldn't utter false condolences, couldn't fake sympathy, couldn't make some stupid crack. He was just there, quietly waiting for her to calm.

So she didn't speak either, didn't try to explain; she just let him rub salve on the burns on her cheeks and tried not to cry. While he didn't seem to be able to smile, his hands were kind, and his eyes were warm. She wanted to thank him, but she wasn't sure why, and she didn't wish to shatter the tentative bond between them.

1: Introductions

Jet plucked a hayseed and stuck it in his mouth, pointing at the boy beside him. "This is Longshot. You are...?"

The girl glared at them and looked away. "It doesn't matter now."

"I figured you'd say that. How about… Smellerbee?" Longshot looked at him, clearly weirded out. "What? It's the scars and the nose."

The girl covered her nose, looking offended. "I earned these scars," she snapped.

Jet nodded. "I know."

Smellerbee crossed her arms. "Quit staring at me like that," she said, scowling at Longshot. "Do I look like I want your approval?" He shook his head, unbothered.

68: Hero

He had never wanted to be anyone's hero. He had simply wanted to live his life, to try and rebuild himself from the ashes of his past. He would have been afraid if he could inspire awe.

But nevertheless, he felt jealous when he saw the way she looked at Jet, the way her eyes shone, the way she focused only on him. Everyone did that, even himself; it was impossible to not be ensnared by Jet's spell. He was a great leader, a born chevalier.

Was it wrong to wish she would look at him like that, just once?

53: Keeping a Secret

The others didn't know she was a girl. While wandering through the ruins of her village, she found the chestplate that later became her signature. She put it on and tied her hair back with a ragged blue bandana, taking the first steps to becoming Smellerbee.

He looked at her curiously. She avoided his eyes, studying the ground instead. "They'll think I'm weak, even if I've got the marks to prove I'm not. Being a boy is easier." She adjusted her collar. "Besides, I know you won't tell." Her small smile attempted wryness, but her voice was bare and humorless.

76: Broken Pieces

When she snuck off to be alone, she hadn't intended to cry. She just wanted to gather up the pieces of her old life and look at them one last time in the moonlight. Her tears were stupid. She had hated her life. It wasn't worth crying over… but it still hurt. "What do you want?" she demanded when the archer joined her. He just shrugged and met her eyes, as if to murmur, No one should have to cry alone. She accepted his presence and didn't try to stop the tears; there was nothing she could do about either.

88: Pain

It was nothing new for her, the pain. She supposed it wasn't for him either. At least, she didn't think so, judging by the scars on his arms. She watched him in silence as he undid his bandages and replaced them with clean ones, all without looking at her. His scars were worse- she couldn't hide hers, but his had marked him in more ways than one. Her tears were even more foolish considering how stoic he was being about his pain. "So it stops hurting after a while?" she murmured as he knotted off the last bandage. He nodded.

46: Family

She had never had a family, not one that had mattered, anyway. Her parents' only thought had been to marry her off to the first person they could; they had never truly cared for her because she wouldn't fetch a high dowry. Not like her sister's, anyway. But her sister had been taken away, carted off by the soldiers because of the very thing that made her parents adore her.

She wasn't proud of her plainness, and it hadn't been that which saved her; she ran.

But now she had a proper one, and she wasn't going to betray them.

72: Mischief Managed

She was crafty. She came up with twisted plans to mess with the soldiers' heads, from wailing at night to make them think their camp was haunted, to painting her initials all over the sleeping general's face. Once, when they were getting close to the treehouses, she dressed as the moon spirit. She waltzed into camp and just stared at the captain until he freaked and ran off, his soldiers in hot pursuit.

As they began to loot the camp, Smellerbee changed back into her normal clothes, smirking. She'd never admit it, but this was more fun than fighting them.

57: Sacrifice

For her new life, she'd given up her parents, her sister, and her friends. Considering, it was a sacrifice she was willing to make. She had left a life where she had to fight to be accepted for one where everyone took her as she was, whether they were aware of her gender or not, where being noticed was something she could always take for granted, where appreciation was something that she had to earn but wasn't that hard to get.

And she would have given up a thousand of her old lives to be with him for just one.

61: Fairy Tale

Life in the treetops was no fairy tale, and Jet was no Robin Hood. They had to work hard to support themselves; one good raid of a Fire Nation camp could keep them supplied for months, but they were lucky if they raided camps more than twice a year. And she had to admit, Jet got a little scary when he talked about the Fire Nation; there was a fire in his eyes when he did. Fire could inspire, but it could also burn homes and cities.

And things with her "prince" were certainly never simple. To her, at least.

20: Fortitude

They admired each other, although neither ever noticed. She envied his stolidity, his ability to keep himself under control. Her complete lack of modesty amazed him; she had no use for it, as brutally honest as she was. And they both respected each other's bravery. They both posessed unshakable willingness to fight for what they believed in and for what they loved.

They weren't friends, though, not for a long time. She thought his silence was rudeness; he thought her inability to keep her mouth shut was annoying. Later, though, they would both decide they were really each other's strengths.

(Thankfully, most of this is coherent… the third or fourth chapter has a lot of random ones that I couldn't figure out what to do with. Review!)