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TW Blood (mentioned, a tiny little bit 'on screen')
“How could you?!”
Aang allowed the flush of reaction to spill over him. Bumi’s anger was clear from his tone, wording, and sheer volume.
It was not the reunion he had hoped to have, when packing Bumi off with Zuko, Mai, and Izumi for a summer’s visit. Watching his Baby Boomerang (no longer baby anything, true) fly away, so full of excitement to be going away for an entire month, he had wanted nothing more than to vault into the air and haul himself into the airship. To be separated from Bumi had hurt all of them. Kya had moved into the women’s dormitories. Tenzin had moved into Bumi’s room, refusing to return to his own room the entire month.
He and Katara had spent several nights outside, staring into the west, wondering what their oldest child was doing.
Of course, Zuko had been making regular reports. His twice-weekly letters had included updates from both the fighting and music masters. Bumi’s time in the Royal Guard Preparatory Academy was proving to be a unique experience. It seemed he was thoroughly intrigued by the Guard’s post-war analytical treatises. He spent many hours learning about supply chains and material management. He attended lectures on strategic choices throughout the war.
And then came the afternoon when a nearly panicked acolyte came running to find him. The Fire Lord was calling over the wireless, and it sounded important.
Aang had been waiting ever since.
Bumi had already left the palace. Orders had been relayed not to impede the young man on his return home. Every obstacle other than distance itself had been removed. No tickets or permissions or papers had been required. The very same airship was returned to service on short notice, ready to carry home one very angry son.
And even after two days of travel, Bumi was still very angry.
“How could you?!” he repeated. “All those people died! You told us never to even step on an ant because all life is sacred! You made us listen to lecture after lecture when we fought each other! You said you couldn’t bear to have me join the Forces because sometimes people die!”
Aang allowed his arms to lower into his lap, but he did not turn around. Not yet.
“Uncle Zuko radioed ahead, didn’t he? You know what I’m talking about because he warned you. Said I didn’t understand.”
He heard several harsh breaths followed by a stomp Lin would be proud of.
“Why won’t you even look at me?”
Aang invited the air to fill his lungs, and thanked it for removing the “toxins” (as Katara had described them) from his body. He pushed against the earth, his joints straightening. Once at his full height, he turned.
He had the sense that Bumi had grown in just the few weeks he had been gone. They were nearly eye-to-eye.
But the storm in those eyes was so out of place. Aang was used to seeing it in Katara’s expression, when he had made a mistake, when someone else dismissed her as his consort, or questioned why she had only borne him one airbending child.
“You spend all this time going on and on about peaceful solutions. We can’t eat meat unless we go to Uncle Sokka’s or Lin is watching Su. You act like just because you’re the last airbender, everyone is supposed to listen to you! Like you know more than all the rest of the world you left behind!”
Umbrage boiled from his son’s lungs.
He stood still, allowing Bumi to glower and glare as much as he wanted.
His beautiful son growled in frustration and threw up his hands.
“Do you even know how many you killed, that day, alone?”
Gently, Aang took a breath.
“Twelve thousand, two hundred and fifty-six people, primarily Fire Nation soldiers, though others were affected.”
As much as he had known for two days that there was no ‘good’ way to have this conversation, Aang had no way to prepare himself for the agony of watching his son’s faith in him evaporate like a cloud over a volcano.
“Yes, Bumi. I have known since those reports were presented to Zuko. I have read them from beginning to end.”
He closed his eyes to let his emotion flow.
“I have read every single name. I have observed funeral rites at Agna Qel’a and in the Caldera.” He breathed. “And I carry that number on my heart.”
When he opened his eyes, Bumi wasn’t looking at him. He was turned to one side, staring a hole in the ground. His fists were pulsing to the rhythm of his heart.
Bumi’s voice was low and tight, almost as if he were speaking through clenched teeth.
“You can’t take away the only thing I can do, Dad. You forgot to make me an airbender, not even a waterbender. I’m useless like I am.”
A hundred conversations were gone like so much smoke. Every time they had tried to reassure their son that they loved him, bending or no bending. No matter how much time he spent with Sokka, Suki, Mai, or Ty Lee, or the various acolytes who had dedicated themselves to the ways of the Nomads. None of it rested in Bumi’s heart. The poison that had rooted there was beyond anyone else’s power to treat.
He would have to find his own way.
“Bumi, my hands were the first to touch you when you were born. The blood that you and your mother shared stained my hands. I resented it when they made me clean my hands. If I would have blood on my hands, I wanted it to be the blood of life, not death.”
He pulled his hands out into the open. To his eyes, they were clean and dry.
And yet, they dripped.
“Since that moment, I have only wanted for you to live without blood on your hands. To see all the good this world has to offer. To live without this burden.”
Bumi scoffed.
“You don’t think I can handle it. You think I’m not good enough.”
Bumi clenched a fist in front of himself, and his arm trembled with the strain.
“I’ll show you.”
Years later…
Aang rolled to his side and coughed. Two rough hands caught the bloody spittle before it could hit the floor.
He looked up to see his beloved son, his own blood on Bumi’s hands.
Moonstone: Mist and Steel ──⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ── Book Two: Tempest — Chapter Seven: Antarctic Lily, Part Three
An exceptionally light sleeper, Lin was out of bed and on her feet barely even a second after the first sounds of distress rose up from Kya’s side of the room. It had started with some quiet words and soft whimpers — still much too loud in their silent room as they'd slept. Now Kya was crying out, thrashing and screaming, and Lin's heart was throttling the raw and fearful hollow of her chest.
"Kya!?" Lin flew to her knees beside her friend's bed. She took the hand that was whipped out against her, gentle and soothing despite her own piercing panic. Kya jolted upright, gasping, blue eyes wide and welling. Lin held her face, speaking softly. "It's okay. You're okay. You're safe."
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It was a huge milestone of scientific and technological advancement. (Plus, at the time, politically significant). Humanity went to space! We set foot on a celestial body that was not earth for the first time in human history! That’s a big deal! I’ve never thought about it before but now that I have, it’s ridiculous to me that that’s not part of our everyday lives and the public consciousness anymore. Why don’t we have a public holiday and a family barbecue about it. Why have I never seen the original broadcast of the moon landing? It should be all over the news every year!
It’s July 20th. That’s the day of the moon landing. Next year is going to be the 54th anniversary. I’m ordering astronaut shaped cookie cutters on Etsy and I’m going to have a goddamn potluck. You’re all invited.
PITCH: We call it Moon Day, and then every 7 years when it falls on a Monday, that's an even BIGGER deal and we call that Moon Day Monday and go absolutely apeshit about it (the next Moon Day Monday is in 2026 so we have a couple trial runs first)
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first incidence of good writing advice i've seen in 10+ years on this platform and it's in the notes of a mustelid wreaking absolute havoc in a german grocery store
The Lion Turtle’s Chant is inspired by a real Chinese Pure Land Buddhist chant known as Nianfo (念佛) in Mandarin. The original chant goes:
Nāmó Āmítuófó (南無阿彌陀佛) / Bow before the Buddha of Immeasurable Light
The Lion Turtle’s Chant modifies this slightly to:
Nāmó Āmítuófó Shīdì (南無阿彌陀佛师弟) / Bow before the Buddha of Immeasurable Light’s Disciple
Which is an absolutely fascinating addition to me. Amitabha, the Buddha of Immeasurable Light, is an enlightened being who possesses pure perception and freedom from worldly attachments. By having the chant state that respect must be paid to the disciple, it acknowledges Aang’s imperfections despite his good heart and grand status as Avatar. It’s shown explicitly in the show, after all, that Aang is very much incapable of letting go of all his attachments.
Though I also wonder if, by definition, all Avatars are really just permanent disciples of enlightenment. After all, Yangchen even says:
Many great and wise Air Nomads have detached themselves and achieved spiritual enlightenment, but the Avatar can never do it. Because your sole duty is to the world. Here is my wisdom for you: Selfless duty calls you to sacrifice your own spiritual needs and do whatever it takes to protect the world.
Some very interesting ideas posed by a simple musical score.
Like what I’m doing? Tips always appreciated, never expected. ^_^
Also, the style of the lion-turtle chant resembles Khatha chanting. This style of chanting is performed in Theravada Buddhism, particularly in mainland Southeast Asia.
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I’m setting myself a reminder for Monday to post at least a snippet! I have been traveling for about 2 months and have half-answered asks in here and a bad case of scatterbrain, but I’m almost home (and therefore reunited with my laptop) and will post something then. You guys are so patient w me, thank you!!! I’m glad you’re still interested 🥹
OKAY It's still Monday where I am and I'm so sorry for the delay, but here is the snippet as promised. This is the first little section of SoC Chapter 9 ....
Chenbao
Spring 171
By the time they arrived in Chenbao the sun had long since sunk below the horizon, but the Blue Dragon Festival was not to be deterred by anything so trivial as the setting of the sun- the riverside path along the regatta route was teeming with tourists and food stalls, lit surprisingly well by paper lanterns strung close enough together to be a fire hazard.
Arriving this late on the first day they had missed the opening ceremonies and a number of competitions, involving mostly novice local rowing crews- nothing Kazuo seemed too concerned about. He had spent the better part of their journey dealing cards and explaining the different function of each individual seat in a rowing crew, which Lin found to be rather tedious on its face, but the enthusiasm with which he spoke was so endearing she found herself asking a remarkable amount of follow up questions. Though she did roll her eyes when she asked what seat Kazuo had occupied in his crew and he replied, “eight- the stroke seat” with a suggestive wink.
She half expected him to lead her to bed as soon as they checked into their room, but instead he suggested they go out in search of a quick meal and walk along the promenade. It was just as well since Lin was starving and had it on good authority (the concierge) that every vendor along the riverfront would be serving up some version of Dragon Ear Dumplings- a favorite street food of hers back home. From the moment they set off Kazuo was pointing out the various grandstands and enclosures for viewing the races and sundry seacraft moored along the banks or tucked neatly away in their boat slips. His ardor for this regatta was nearly tangible and Lin wondered aloud why he is only just now attending for the first time.
“No room in my calendar,” he shrugged casually, before spotting something in the middle distance, “look at this,” he declared, picking up her hand and pulling her toward a food stall with a sign touting Dragon’s Beard Noodles made with purple scorpion pepper. “How is it that this place in the middle of nowhere has purple scorpion pepper, but when I ask about it in the Fire Nation district of Republic City people look at me like I’m insane?”
“Our noodles are very good,” a little old woman, reminiscent of a stunted root vegetable admonished from inside the food stall, “if you don’t like the pepper then go somewhere else.”
Kazuo reeled back a little, caught between shock and humor, “What?”
“Middle of nowhere,” the woman muttered angrily, “look at all these people! You are somewhere, yes? Somewhere standing around like an idiot blocking my shop.”
Kazuo laughed incredulously, looking to Lin, and then back at the old woman, “You are talking to me, right?”
The woman on the other side of the counter looked positively incandescent, “are you deaf or just stupid?”
While Kazuo seemed to be taking this unprovoked lambasting in his stride, Lin felt a swell of ire raise. “Hey!” Lin barked, taking a step forward and pointing one stern digit in the old lady’s direction, “he wasn’t talking to you.”
The old woman’s maw snapped closed, startled. From the corner of her eye, Lin could see Kazuo’s eyebrows raise in surprise, “and the only stupid thing I see here is charging ten yuans for boxed noodles.” She hooked her arm at Kazuo’s elbow, marching forward haughtily “Come on, Kaz.”
They had only made it a few steps before Kazuo spoke, barely containing his laughter, “were you-” a laugh escaped, “were you going to fight that old lady for me?”
Lin chanced a look at him, meeting his eyes in her periphery for only a second, but it was long enough for the tension to break over a sputtering laugh of her own. He matched it and somehow that just made her laugh harder, which in turn made him laugh harder until they were both completely overcome, leaning against each other for support.
After a prolonged moment Kazuo managed to catch a breath, wiping at his eyes, “is that your cop voice? Did I just hear your cop voice for the first time? She looked so scared.”
Lin drew a breath amidst her laughing fit long enough to choke out, “it’s my regular voice.”
Somehow that made Kazuo laugh harder, “No, it’s not. I was afraid for that woman’s life.”
Lin returned his mirth, “I didn’t- I didn’t intend for it to come across that forcefully.”
He waved her apology away as their shared outburst began to subside, putting his arm around her shoulders to squeeze her in closer as he joked, “Are you kidding? Baby, that was the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me- I have some legislators I’d love to introduce you to back home.”
Though he said it in a teasing manner, the use of a nickname like that sobered her entirely, though she didn’t reprove him for it. Instead, she leaned in and let him kiss her temple, smiling all the while. “Alright, let’s find some dumplings, but keep your voice down– and in the name of the spirits don’t mention scorpion peppers,” he warned.
Eventually they found their dumplings and a retaining wall at the edge of the river on which to share them. Over a modest take out carton they exchanged more laughs and stories from Kazuo’s rowing crew days and Lin’s training days at the Metalbending Academy.
“I promise the venue for tomorrow’s dinner is a step up from this,” Kazuo assured apologetically.
But as the lantern light glinted off the river before them, Lin decided there was no amount of money, no grand setting that could possibly compare to this moment.
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