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A Bird Could Love a Fish

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Hi everybody! It’s me again, with another useless blog! So. Everyone knows I’m hard at work on Daughter of Ashes and Air, and I’d like to tack on a little side project. Please note: This is in no way, shape, or form going to interfere with DAA. In fact, the new fanon would have extremely short chapters, and there’s a reason, other than “TAD’s being lazy (again).” The reason is that that’s the nature of the fic.

So, what’s this fanon idea of yours, TAD?

Here we go.

Here’s an excerpt from a conversation I was having with another user.

“By the way, I'm thinking of two possible Kataang fanons I could write. A (toned-down) closer look at their canon relationship made of one-shots . . . or an alternate Avatar universe, where Airbenders are part-bird (they have wings), Waterbenders are like mermaids almost, etc., and set a plot-driven forbidden love story. I'm not sure which to do, and I might take a vote.”

There you go. The original idea I had for proposal number one (Kataang One-Shots) was nixed, having been deemed too inappropriate for the Wiki (ooh, look Mama, I’m being naughty and writing ATLA porn! Tee hee! It wasn’t really porn, by the way, and if anyone wishes to read it, feel free to drop me a line at ladyflut@gmail.com. Be warned: Here be dragons). The second story (Kataang Mythos) would be a more plot-driven affair (pardon the pun) and set in the aforementioned fantasy ATLA interpretation. Frankly, I’m not sure which one to write.

So!

Which one would you rather see? Let me know in the comments. Please add in your post "Kataang One-Shots" or "Kataang Mythos," depending on which one you would like better, and don't put the other one.

Thank you for, er, dealing with my randomness, and, for your patience, enjoy a sneak-peek at next week’s DAA chapter, Hunted.

“Hai was now in an underground coffin, lying down, a thick ceiling of stone sealing her tomb.

She was dead.

Dead.

Dead.

Dead.

She.

Was.

Going.

To.

Die.

And there was no escape.

Hai battled against herself. She was still panting heavily, and she struggled to rein in her breathing. I need to conserve oxygen, she yelled at herself, so stop breathing! Just stop!

The fear of dying set her body into overdrive, and her heart beat endlessly, driven by the instinct of fight or flight. Valiant heart/Beat to the last/For from the start/Like a ship’s mast/Driven by wind/Caught in the storm/Your life was thinned/I must deform/My breath to fit/Your beat—your mark/Soon life once lit/Will become dark. She smiled wanly, aware of her imminent death, and the poem’s words came to her easily.“

Cliff hanger!

Okay, okay. That’s enough, TAD, you bad girl. [slaps herself]

See you next time!

~The Avatar Demotivator

PS. So, the Kataang One Shots will be in the form of the 100 Themes Challenge. Here's an example of what I would write for the first theme, "Intoduction." Enjoy.


Chapter One: Introduction

He is cold, so very cold.

He cannot feel a thing.

He is cold, so very cold.

He cannot feel a thing.

He is cold, so very cold.

He cannot feel a thing.

In cycles, almost, his senses darken, then return. Darken, then return. Darken, then return.

On occasion, he can catch brief glimpses of white and blue. Water and ice.

Sea and sky.

And then all is black.

Sometimes, he can hear the crackling of the iceberg around him and the pounding of the waves.

His heartbeat.

And then all is mute.

Every so often, he can smell the refreshing cold and the stinging seawater.

His fear.

And then all is scentless.

Now and then, he can taste the chill on his tongue and the warmth in his mouth.

His blood.

And then all is bland.

At times, he can feel the warmth on his back and the pain in his heart.

His longing.

And then all is gone.

He wants to die.

Desperately.

He needs to leave.

He cannot live inside his world of sea and sky.

He.

Must.

Leave.

In his most frightening moments, he cannot remember his own name.

Aang.

Aang.

Aang.

Please, spirits, don’t let me forget my name.

Please.

That is the one thing I have left.

And then.

What is it?

I can’t remember.

I have nothing.

Kill me.

I have lost my soul.

And suddenly, illuminated in his mind’s eye . . .

Aang.

Aang.

Aang.

Please, spirits, don’t let me forget my name.

Please.

That is the one thing I have left.

He is suspended in this void, somewhere between life and death, and he is screaming, though he cannot hear.

Something shifts.

The ice snaps. The water roils. The voices sing.

He can hear them.

He can hear them.

And they sing.

Loud.

Angry.

Concerned?

And then.

Pain.

He is screaming again.

And his time, he can hear himself.

Lost forever in an world of agony, pain, and torture, he writhes, and then his world is bathed in light.

He is atop the iceberg then, free, finally free, with nothing—nothing—in his way.

The sunlight is too much.

He sways.

Fight it.

Fight it, Aang.

Fight it!

He tips.

No!

Fight it!

Fight it!

He falls.

Fight it!

Aang!

Fight

He is caught on a gust of wind.

The pain has subsided, and he gently floats on the breeze, slowly rotating his body, until he is looking into the endless night-jewel skies above.

And the girl.

The spirit.

The angel.

A faint smile flickers on his lips.

Is she an angel?

Is she a spirit?

Is she a figment of my imagination?

Please. I need to know.

Tell me.

Please.

I’m dying.

Tell me.

Please.

Please.

Please.

You can’t do this.

Oh, spirits.

She is embracing him.

Her warmth comforts him.

And he knows what she will ask.

“What is your name?”

And he remembers.

Aang.”

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