In my mind there is a very clear connection between the prompt “stories” and my attempt at rewriting part of the AtLA ending, however I’m having a terrible time verbalizing it (sort of “stories belong to their readers” ala John Green vibes?). Instead you get this snippet from a meta I wrote months ago (which I guess I’ll need to post now to have this make sense):
So if someone asks me if a romantic Zutara relationship is “canon” within the context of AtLA, then no it isn’t. But for me, that’s literally the only place where Zuko and Katara aren’t deeply in love and living their best lives together. AtLA is a work of fiction, and fictional characters are just as fictional when a fan thinks about them as when the character’s creator thinks about them. A story is only as real as you make it. And for me? Zutara is real.
Can a na’vi really fall in love with a human? Neteyam asked himself that question nearly everyday, after all his mother fell for a sky person once, so it wasn’t entirely impossible.
Tags: romance, action ish, mystery ish, fluff, smut, some oc’s for the plot to work lol
The golden sun of Pandora lazily rolled over the horizon, the air started to feel a lot less humid, which made the chief’s son squint with relief, he stretched the corners of his lips slightly, realizing that it was finally going to get cooler. It had been a difficult hunt today. He had searched for prey through tall forest grass, thought every eternal animal trail and tattered cliffs, he never struggled this much, his failed attempts looked like the inept tossings of a young warrior, not as experienced actions of a hunter that Neteyam certainly was.
In the pre-dawn fog, everything was going wrong. Branches and bushes melted in the blazing sunset, and shadows slid in a scarlet river over his tired limbs. At least that’s what he had used as an excuse for himself. That he was just tired. But even so, Neteyam still hoped that his hands would finally be sprinkled with his forest brother’s blood and that he would return home with some spoils.
He stared thoughtfully at the scorched spot for a while longer before he slid down to one of the streams where he could quench his thirst. He sat down beside it, on the wet rocks, and exhaled in relief. Leisurely scooping up the water with his hand, he first poured it over his shoulders, not forgetting his neck and chest; then he took out a small leather pouch from behind his belt, filled it up with the liquid and greedily drank from it, messily dropping water droplets everywhere.
