#i’ve never seen one that high only heard about it like some kinda folklore

[aqpippin]

i can’t stop thinking about it lmao potassium of 7.3 is wild

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Walk Me Home - Ch 3

Summary: Twenty-four years ago, Kimberly Harper met a boy who changed the course of her entire life before up and leaving one night. She spent years moving past the memories, building a stable, satisfying career as professor of folklore and mythology at the local university. Then the accidents start, and she’s forced to seek help among her hunter contacts. All it takes is a knock on her office door to send Kimber’s carefully built emotional walls crumbling to the ground.

Featuring: Teen Winchesters, high school romance, reunions, misunderstandings, high intensity emotional turmoil, Dean’s love of pie, Dean being adorable, Sam being adorable and maybe a bit nosy eventually, much group adorkable-ness, show-style investigation, mention of our favorite werewolf, gratuitous and obvious love of fall, DID I MENTION ROMANCE, fluff, smut, tension. 

Warnings: Show level violence, show level parental neglect (let’s not John bash, I’m just saying), show-style witchcraft, show-level mental manipulation, stalking, bit of angst, sexual content (higher than show level),swearing, general yearning

Word Count: 3422

Author’s Note: Mega thanks to @mskathywriteswords​ , @fangirlxwritesx67​, and @cracksinthewalls​ for editing, revision, flailing, and generally knocking sense into me when I’m being stubborn. You all made this story way better than it started it, and I love you. Thanks to everyone who read/reblogged/liked the first chapter. I hope you enjoy the story as much as I do. 

@thoughtslikeaminefield​ , babe, I love you, and I love this story so much.

Keep in Mind: There are a lot of flashbacks. I tried to write current events in present tense and flashbacks in past tense. Here’s hoping I got everything right!

Please read/heed the warnings. 18+ ONLY. 

In Case You Missed It: Ch 1 | Ch 2 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

Chapter 3

“Breathe, sweetheart, take a deep breath and hold it. Watch me, follow my breathing.” Dean’s hands, warm and solid against her clammy skin, hold her face so she has no choice but to look right at him. 

His eyes pierce the haze of fear that locks her lungs, and she pulls in her first shaking breath since she spotted the doll. She must have screamed, because one moment she was alone with the damned thing, and the next he was by her side, pulling her out of the room.

“Come with me, we’re getting out of here. Right now.” In a habit that miraculously stayed with her since she first knew him, Kimber stumbles after Dean, her fingers clutching his with a level of desperation that would leave her shamed if she had the thought capacity to care right now.

They’re out the front door, in his car, and speeding away before she even realizes he’s on the phone. 

“Yeah, Sam, I saw the doll on her bed. Front door was definitely locked when we got there, but I didn’t get a chance to check the windows or back door. She’s talked to the cops before this, they didn’t do shit then, but maybe now that the bastard actually went in her house. I’m taking her back to the motel.” 

He’s silent for a long moment, listening intently, his lips pressed thin and tense. Her face is wet, and she realizes she’s crying. She takes a moment to wipe away the tears streaming from her eyes, discreetly clearing her throat. She has a strange, disconnected moment of panic when she realizes she left her purse in the house and the door unlocked, but she shoves the words back down her throat so fast she nearly chokes.

That horrible...thing...on her bed, and she’s worried about her purse?!

Priorities, Kimber, she scolds herself. Dean is talking when she comes back to the moment, and she catches him mid-sentence.

“-agree with Kimber, I think it’s probably a witch. Gonna check for hex bags, ask her about anybody that might have a motive. We’ll go over her house when you get here, but I’m gonna try to keep her out of sight in the meantime. Don’t have a tail, but I’ll keep an eye on the way to the motel. See ya in the morning.”

He hangs up, eyes flicking over to Kimber then back to the road.

“How you holdin’ up?” The genuine concern in his voice breaks through the worst of her panic, giving her something other than her growing dread to focus on.

“I...I’ve been better. I mean, I know that nothing actually happened, but...Dean, I-”

“Oh, no, I totally get it,” he says, his eyebrows rising high on his forehead. “Fucking dolls, I hate ‘em. That creepy shit absolutely ain’t right. Anyway, we had no idea if someone was still at your place. Better to high-tail it, regroup, and plan than get stuck in a shootout with somethin’ that might not even go down with a bullet or five in it. You heard me talkin’ to Sam?”

She nods, doing her best to hide her sniffling. Without a word, he opens the glove box, pulls out a napkin, and hands it to her. She takes it gratefully, failing in her attempt to discreetly blow her nose while boxed into a moving vehicle.

“Thanks. The thing is, though, as far as I know, nobody has a motive to want to hurt me.”

This time he only lifts one eyebrow. “You, a college professor in a highly specialized academic area that’s typically full of eccentrics at best and nutbags at worst, have no students with chips on their shoulders? No jealous colleagues? Never forgot to tip the barista or leave a Christmas bonus for the janitors? Really?”

Her face heats up. She’s thinking like a scared kid, and she should know better. She may not be a hunter, but she knows the lore, knows the signs, and she really should know better.

“Okay, you’re right, you’re right. I’m not thinking clearly. Just...gimme a sec to get my head on straight.” 

She sucks in a sharp, deep breath through her nose, focusing on a droplet of water that’s sliding down her window. She presses air slowly from her lungs, watching the drop gain speed as it joins with more water dotting the outside of the glass, repeating the process until the raindrop slips off the window and her thoughts are focused again.

“I haven’t actually had to fail anyone in my classes lately, but I suppose someone could have held a grudge from previous semesters or just not been satisfied with a lower passing grade. As far as I know, no one in the department is jealous of my position. I’m not really anything special, literally just a glorified storyteller. I’m not on any boards or committees, I haven’t received any awards in a few semesters. No particular nutbags lately, but…”

She frowns as he pulls the car into a motel parking lot. Something is tugging at the back of her mind, an almost non-incident from a few Thursdays ago. She’d dismissed the conversation as random but harmless, but even the smallest details could be life or death. She’s been shown this over and over in her dealings with hunters. It’s about time she learned from other people’s mistakes.

“There was something, a few weeks ago, but I can’t quite remember,” she says, frustrated at how inadequate her memory is proving at the moment. The vestiges of panic still cling to the edges of her mind, leaving her thoughts scrambled and disjointed. 

“Think on it. Let’s get checked in, get somethin’ to eat, and you can tell me then,” Dean offers. 

She smiles her appreciation at the reprieve and climbs out of the car to follow Dean into the motel office. She uses the time Dean spends, first talking and then arguing with the clerk, to jog her memory, trying to recall everything she can about her encounter at the end of a self-defense class the previous month. 

It had seemed so harmless at the time, and nothing odd happened afterwards. At least, not that night. But as she stands next to Dean, straining her memory, she realizes Helen’s accident was just two days later. Her unseen watcher trailed her for the first time a week after Helen’s fall. Then Professor Lawrence a few days after that, and just last week Allen and the stapler.

She feels the heat of shame flooding her face. She’s a researcher by profession. How did she never put the pattern together? People have been hurt, nearly died, because she was too stupid to connect some dots? 

“I connect dots for a goddamn living,” she mutters to herself, earning her an odd glance from Dean. He turns back to the clerk, who shrugs.

“Take it or leave, sir.”

“Fine,” Dean growls, shoving a credit card at the man. Five minutes later, Dean unlocks the door to a room with two queen-size beds whose decor calls strongly back to a decade long past and best forgotten.

“I think they decorated this place before we were born,” she murmurs, earning her a tired smile from Dean. “At least it’s clean?”

He nods, tossing his bag on the bed nearest the window. “Sorry we have to share, they’re full up. Some sort of convention in town?” 

She hesitates, her stomach fluttering uneasily at the thought of a wall between her and Dean. “I don’t mind. I think...maybe it’s safer this way, in one room. I would offer to get dinner, since you paid for the room, but…” She trails off, empty hands spread at her sides. 

“Not a problem,” he says, dropping down on the bed and reaching for the phone. “Know anywhere good that delivers?”

 Forty minutes and two cheeseburger combos later, Dean lifts her reprieve and presses her for information again. The food helped ground Kimber’s jittery brain, and she’s thinking clearly for the first time since she spotted the doll.

“A few weeks ago, after self-defense class concluded, a guy came up to me. I’d never noticed him before, I thought he was new, but he said he’d seen me a few times and wanted to know if i would go get coffee with him. I wouldn’t have said yes, regardless, because...I mean, picking up dates at a self-defense class? Feels kinda predatory.”

Dean nods, lips pursed as he listens. He’s stretched out on his bed while she’s opted to sit in one of the two chairs by the table a few feet away. Kimber scrubs her face with her hands before running them back through her hair. 

“I just...I got this weird vibe off him, though, Dean. He may have found me attractive, I don’t know, but I seriously doubt it. He didn’t really want to ask me out. I have no clue why he asked; I could tell he wasn’t into me. He wouldn’t meet my eyes, his face was kind of stoney the whole time? Almost like someone put him up to it even though he really didn’t want to?”

Dean frowns, just as perplexed as she is.

She sighs, resting her chin in her palms and elbows on her knees. “I know. He was acting just a little too off. On top of that, I didn’t know him at all, so I turned him down. I wasn’t rude, at least I don’t think I was. He just accepted it, though; he didn’t push or even look upset. He didn’t really look anything at all. He just left. I didn’t see him in class again after that, and, honestly, I’m certain I had never seen him before.”

Dean rubbed the stubble on his chin thoughtfully, eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t...I mean, yeah, maybe. A strong maybe,” he conceded. “But we need more information. Even if that guy is our perp, we need to find out more about what’s actually going on. Sam can help me look over your place tomorrow; you and I can search your office. We should check out the other accident scenes. Did anyone else in your class see the guy or talk to him?”

“Maybe the teacher?” Kimber offers, stifling a yawn. She’s weary to the bone and suspects she may still be feeling the after-effects of shock. She stands, intending to hit the shower in the bathroom, when she remembers just how quickly they had to leave her house.

“Um...Dean, I didn’t get to...we left my place so quickly. Do you have anything to wear that I could...borrow?” She doesn’t mean to sound so hesitant and vulnerable, but her emotional filter is fading with her energy, and she doesn’t have it in her to put up a tough front.

His eyes widen, and he jumps up from the bed to rifle through his sports bag. He reaches out, holding what looks like a white t-shirt and pajama pants. She takes a step towards him to accept them just as he moves over to meet her, and they both stop just shy of a full-body collision.

His fingers brush her skin as she accepts the clothes, and she’s annoyed at how her hands tremble from the brief touch. Her eyes flick up to find him watching her, his color high and lips parted. His hands close more solidly around hers, fingers rough and welcome against her wrists. Her pulse quickens, and that cold spot near her heart ratchets up a couple more degrees. 

His pupils dilate in response, black circles swallowing the mossy irises. Dean’s tongue flashes over his lower lip as he swallows convulsively, and her eyes track the movement. She wonders for the span of a single breath if he still tastes the way she remembers. It would be so easy to find out; just step in, drop the clothes.

All she has to do, really, is reach out.

…

Her fingers paused halfway between them, hesitating. He glanced up from his plate of pie, eyeing her curiously. Feeling suddenly, deliciously brave, she brushed her thumb over his lower lip, swiping a bit of whipped cream he’d unknowingly smeared there. She sucked her thumb for just a moment, self-consciously looking away as her cheeks blazed red. 

She’d never been so forward before, brazen even, and while she was proud of her courage, she was still shocked she’d had such nerve. She risked a peek at him across the table just in time to see him flick his own tongue over the exact spot her thumb had just been. He caught his lower lip under his teeth, grinning at her, somehow looking just as flushed and off-balance as she felt.

“You, uh...taste good,” he murmured, eyes shining. She couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled up at his sweet, simple sincerity. 

“You do, too.”

They had finished tutoring early, and it was only their second week. Dean was keeping up just fine in class, so she was more than happy to accept his invitation for a snack at the nearby diner. The day was pretty warm for mid-September, and they were technically still supposed to be at the library, so she asked if he’d like to maybe take a walk and talk some more.

“You’re just using me for my stories,” he said with a mock pout as they strolled down the sidewalk. “Is that all I am to you? A source of entertainment?”

“Dean, you’re the best show on. I wouldn’t even skip the reruns.” She felt so light around him, so comfortable and giddy all at once, like he was sucking the oxygen from her atmosphere while giving it right back to her all at once.

Just when she felt like her chest might burst holding all this inside, she reached out and linked her fingers through his. She felt a slight falter in his stride (or maybe she imagined it), and they walked on. She asked him about his family. He told her less about his Dad, more about his little brother, and nothing about his mom, but mostly he asked questions.

What did she like to read? Where was the best pie in town, because that place was not it. Where did she have her favorite birthday party growing up? What did she want to do when she graduated? Favorite family vacation? Favorite holiday? Was it as awesome being an only child as it seemed, or were there actually drawbacks he didn’t know about? What did she really think of his jacket, be honest?

Eventually, they found themselves back at her house, not quite time for her to be home yet. She was reluctant to say good-bye, and if his grip on her hand was any indication, so was he.

“I know!” she said suddenly. She tugged his arm, leading the way around her house and into the backyard. Neither of her parents were home from work, so she didn’t have to worry about their well-meaning interrogation as to why she was dragging the new boy around by the arm.

“Ta-da!” She spread her arms wide, grinning as she indicated the treehouse she and her dad had built together only a few years earlier. “Best craftsmanship, all the comforts of home, minus electricity, heat, air conditioning, and plumbing!”

“You mean it’ll hold us both, and there's some pillows and blankets up there?” He laughed, his grin growing as she glowed back at him. 

“You get me so well!” she squealed, grabbing his hand and tugging him forward again. “Come on!”

Though the structure swayed ever so slightly, it didn’t embarrass her by creaking, and there was plenty of room for the two of them to prop up against one of the walls, stretching their legs out on the nest of cushions and blankets she kept up there during good weather.

Rather than settling down, her heart began to beat against her ribs so loudly she was certain Dean could hear it. Her shoulder brushed his, and she could feel every minute shift of his body. Her nostrils flared a little as she steeled herself and turned to meet his intent gaze.

“I would really love to kiss you right now,” he said, his voice low and velvet soft. 

“Does that usually work on girls?” she asked breathlessly, her eyes glued to his impossibly lush mouth.

“Why, is it working on you?” The raw want in his voice was unmistakable, even to her inexperienced ears. No boy had ever looked at her the way Dean was right now, as if he’d never seen anyone else he’d rather kiss. He reached up, slid his fingers into her hair, thumb brushing her cheekbone.

“Yeah, it, um...it really is.”

He tasted of cherry pie and coffee. Years later, she would recognize that kiss as the moment her dependency on the caffeinated beverage began, but at the time, she wouldn’t have recognized her own mother. His lips moved gently, so tenderly it stole her breath and made some random spot in her chest clench painfully. 

She turned, leaning across him, almost on her knees. Her fingers slid over the impossibly silky bristles on the back of his neck. He shivered under her touch, lips parting from hers as he sucked in a sharp pull of air. 

“Kimber,” he murmured, eyes closed. She nudged the tip of his nose with her own, her eyes fluttering shut as she pressed the smallest of kisses to the corner of his lips. Dean’s breath caught, and then he pulled her up into his lap suddenly, tilting her head just so before claiming her mouth again.

She didn’t know how long they sat in the treehouse exactly like that, learning each other’s contours and tastes, trading kisses and caresses but nothing more, until she heard the front door of the house close. 

Kimber jerked upright, shocked as if she’d been dashed with a bucket of ice water. She’d honestly forgotten there was a whole world that existed outside the two of them in the treehouse. The sun was much lower in the sky, almost gone in fact.

“It’s almost dark, Dean, I have to go inside.” She spoke reluctantly, the words pulled out against her will. She didn’t ever want to be responsible, even indirectly, for telling Dean he had to leave.

Dean’s chest rose and fell rapidly, one hand holding tight to her waist as the other began to reluctantly untangle from her hair. He leaned forward, brushed her lips with his one last time before wordlessly encouraging her to put herself to rights.

Kimber checked the backyard to make sure the coast was clear before leading Dean down the ladder to the ground. 

“If you go that way,” she said, pointing out a thin spot in the hedge at the far side of her yard, “it’ll take you right out to Evergreen Drive. One more block over, and you’ll be on the same street as the school.” He nodded, glancing in the direction before turning back to her. 

God, his eyes. 

She was frozen to the spot and on fire all at once. In all her seventeen years, she’d never felt anything as intense as Dean just looking at her. How did he do that?

“I think I’m going to, uh...need a few more study sessions,” he said softly. “We might need to really get...in depth with the material.” This time his smile was a little shy, a lot less cocky than the first time she worked with him. And yet there was a mischievous glint in his eyes that let her know Dean Winchester would absolutely be worth every bit of trouble he got her into.

“I’ll see you at school tomorrow,” she said, intentionally not addressing his statement. For one thing, she didn’t think she could match his level of casual innuendo without sounding like a complete idiot. For another, she didn’t trust herself to respond without turning bright red. 

She turned towards her house when Dean seized her hand, yanked her carefully back, and caught her face between both of his palms. This time the kiss was blazing, not a trace of the gentleness from the last hour, and when he finally released her, she stood dazed and shaken, staring at him completely unfocused.

“See ya,” he said. He grinned as he released her and turned, loping across her yard with an easy grace before disappearing into the hedge. ...

Chapter 4

[caelum-in-the-avatarverse]

Katara's still reeling after learning about bloodbending. Aang tries to help. 

~~~

This one's gonna have discussion of how bending can kill people and allusions to death and stuff, just fyi.

Enjoy!

~~~

“Teach me how to heal?”

Katara blinked a few times and looked up at him. It took her a few seconds to focus on his face. “What?”

“Teach me how to heal,” Aang said again, and then he added, “please.”

She blinked again. “Why?”

Because you cried for hours last night. Because you kept apologizing to Yue. Because your hopes were completely shattered. Because I know how badly you wanted to learn Southern-style waterbending. Because one of your greatest heroes turned out to be the worst kind of villain. Because you’ve been staring at a field of fire lilies all afternoon. “You taught me how to fight...for obvious reasons. But...I know I’d prefer healing over fighting. And...I think we both could use it.”

Katara graced him with a weak smile. “Okay,” she said, straightening up. She already looked better at the prospect of a goal - a mission, something to make the world a better place. “Give me your arm.”

Sokka and Toph left them to it and stuck to the other side of their campsite, Sokka drawing out diagrams for sky bison armor while rattling off ideas, and Toph practicing her metalbending and telling Sokka that, as much as her skills were progressing, she would not be able to created mounted arrow-launchers, nor would they be able to train Momo to use them in time.

Katara spent the better part of an hour tracing her finger up and down her and Aang’s bodies, talking about the twelve standard meridians and chi flow and applying waterbending as a conduit. Aang soaked the information up like a sponge, watched Katara sink her focus into healing, and all the ways you could fix a person.

But eventually her words trailed off halfway through an explanation of how waterbending could keep a person’s heart beating, and she stared at her fingers hovering over Aang’s chest. “It’s...not so different, is it?” she whispered.

Aang took her hand in his. “It’s very different, Katara.”

She shook her head. “I just...can’t believe someone would use waterbending for something so evil.”

“I know,” Aang said gently. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s - we’re supposed to be better than the Fire Nation. Waterbending isn’t evil, it’s good.”

“No bending is good or evil,” Aang said. “It just...is.”

“I’ve never seen firebending used for good,” Katara said dryly.

“Kuzon used to make shapes with it,” Aang shrugged. “People, animals. They’d dance around the campfire. It was cute.”

She looked unconvinced.

“Anyone who knows enough about the human body to heal it is also going to know how to hurt it,” Aang said. “Bending is just an ability, it doesn’t have morals. What’s good and evil is people’s choices on how to use it.”

Katara sighed. “I guess I’m just...so used to the idea of fire being the element that causes pain,” she said. “I never thought water…”

Aang hesitated - but she looked so lost, and she’d cried so much last night, and he cared about her so much. He glanced towards Sokka and Toph, saw they were still engrossed in their own conversation, hopefully far enough away that Toph’s hearing wouldn’t pick anything up. He leaned closer to Katara and said, very quietly but all in a rush, “Airbending can be used to suck the breath right out of someone’s lungs.”

It took a moment for it to sink in, but when it did she stared at him, horrified. “...What?”

Aang hunched his shoulders a bit. “Yeah.”

“You can - ”

“I can’t,” he said immediately. “That’s - it’s forbidden, and even if it wasn’t I wouldn’t want to know how! But it’s...definitely possible. There were old stories. Legends.”

She took another moment to process it. “That’s... awful, Aang.”

“Yeah,” he said, and with a rueful grin added, “there’s reasons why we’re pacifists.” If you listen hard enough you can hear every living thing breathing together, Hue had said, back under the banyan-grove tree. The old Swampbender had no idea how true that had been for Air Nomads.

“I’d never heard that about Airbenders,” Katara said.

“It’s not like it was common knowledge,” Aang shrugged. “We didn’t even talk about it amongst ourselves much. I don’t think anyone even actually knew how to do it, just that it was possible.” Maybe a skilled master could have figured it out on their own, but none of them would ever have attempted it. And now there was definitely no one who knew how to do it - maybe no one who even knew it was possible, if Katara’s reaction was anything to go by.

If Aang never said anything about it, maybe no one would ever know again.

Aang had been grieving the loss of his people and the destruction of his culture for months, but if the knowledge of the asphyxiation technique disappeared, it would be one loss he wouldn’t mourn.

“Even knowing it’s possible is scary,” said Katara, who’d bloodbended a whole human fifteen minutes after learning the technique was possible.

“But we didn’t, Katara. We could, but we didn’t. It’s not the power that’s evil, it’s the choices you make in how to use it.”

Katara mulled it over. Eventually, she nodded, and they spent a long, silent moment gazing out over the field of fire lilies. The flowers were just as red and beautiful as they’d been in another field, several islands behind them now. Katara held a hand over the nearest flower, slowly moving her wrist and her fingers, and the lily’s petals opened and closed a few times, it’s leaves shifting in slow wavy motions.

It didn’t whither or dehydrate under her hand, but when she released it, the lily suddenly fell limp to the ground, unable to stand upright anymore, leaves and petals haphazardly splayed. Katara blinked. “I...must have hurt it somehow,” she realized, frowning. “Maybe I burst something inside.”

“It’s okay,” Aang said quickly. “It’s not like you bend plants much.”

“...Yeah,” Katara said after a moment. “You’re right, I don’t.”

At least it wasn’t a person, Aang didn’t say, because now was not the time to bring that up.

“They’re just flowers,” Katara said quietly. Sadly. She stared out at the fire lilies again. The field looked like a massive army of little red soldiers.

They were quiet again, for a little while. On the other side of the camp, Toph was telling Sokka that two horns was enough for Appa and they didn’t need to give him any more on his helmet no matter how cool he claimed it would look. It would not look cool, it would look stupid. She didn’t know much about looks but she knew for a fact she would be able to feel the stupid.

Finally, Katara sighed. “She didn’t even teach me any actual Southern-style waterbending.”

Aang wrapped an arm around her shoulders and thought of the way the nuns raised at the Western Air Temple had been able to walk around on the ceiling, perfectly upside-down with the rest of their home, how they’d laugh at anyone who attempted to mimic them, and how jealously they’d guarded that unique art. “I’m sorry, Katara.”

~~~

Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are appreciated.

Meridians are the paths chi flows through in the body, according to traditional Chinese medicine. I think when Katara attends that healing lesson, the dummy Yugoda is demonstrating on has the meridians carved into it. Also why did no one ever teach Aang healing I think he would've loved it and also I think healing deserves a bit more in-depth exploration as an art. The fantasy genre tends to just treat healing as another thing in the characters' bag of tricks and I'm getting tired of it.

Also I've spent all these years wondering "how did Sokka manage to make armor for Appa they didn't have a forge and we just see him working on it like once but it didn't make sense" and while I was writing this I was like "oh wait Toph can metalbend, duh."

It seriously kills me that Hama doesn't seem to have actually taught Katara any actual Southern Water Tribe techniques. Everything they talked about had to do with Hama learning to survive in the Fire Nation and pulling water from unconventional sources. No moves, techniques, or philosophies. So sad.

Also I kinda headcanon that Hama died very shortly after her arrest of either an aneurysm or a heart attack or something. It was Katara's first time bloodbending and she was under a lot of stress. :( I also don't think that the Gaang is aware of this - I think they high-tailed it out of Hama's village immediately. A bunch of disappeared villagers return home in the middle of the night with the old innkeeper in chains saying she's a witch who controlled them somehow and these strange kids saved them? That would probably launch an investigation, or at the very least a lot of questions, and no one knows Hama and Katara are Waterbenders. Bad enough some of the prisoners probably saw Toph bending her space rock into a key. The Gaang wasn't gonna wait around for someone to poke around the inn and find a flying bison.

Regarding asphyxiation, unfortunately for Aang, there actually is surviving literature regarding that old Airbender tale - a few mentions in anthropological texts, a few recorded bits of folklore, and some Sozin-era anti-Air Nomad propaganda. Fortunately, these records are really only known in academic circles, and even there it's pretty obscure knowledge. So just as long as no well-read martial arts experts with a deep appreciation/obsession over Air Nomad culture suddenly obtain airbending abilities, the knowledge of asphyixiation techniques is safely unusable! :D *cough*gdiZaheer*coughcough*