Title: (Currently untitled, but I’m going for “The AU That Shouldn’t Exist BUT IT DOES”)
By: Yssa B.
Fandom: Legend of Korra
Warnings: Modern Band/Music!AU. I mean, I don’t know, if it shouldn’t exist….
Parts:   music!au tag 
Notes: I’m almost sorry. But. Not quite. Many thanks to Hannah, since this AU is basically our child. No set updates. Just a bunch of drabbles that hopefully will turn into something that resembles a plot?
I’m really sorry, I’m so low-quality I. /o\ urgh. I wanted to get some feelings out of the way before I get into things. 

Alternate chapter title: Expecting
Music reference: Andy McKee  

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“Okay, on my count. One, two, three—”

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah—”

“Ikki!” Jinora turned to her youngest sister in frustration. “You’re flat! Again!”

“No I am NOT!” Ikki squeaked. “Meelo is too loud!”

Tenzin sighed, rubbing the corner of his eye. “Children, arguing will not help us right now.”

“But daddy!” Ikki cried. “Korra is going to be here any minute! What are we going to do if we sound horrible? Won’t she hate us? Won’t she think we’re really bad and then she’d leave because we weren’t as cool or great?! What if we stink, daddy!?”

Tenzin sometimes surprised himself when he found he could understand his second daughter. Years of practice, he thought, since she spoke as fast as a jet.

”I don’t stink! YOU stink!” Meelo accused, pointing a stubby finger at his sister.

Jinora pushed his hand down. “It’s rude to point, Meelo.”

In all his years, he will never get over how exhausting being a parent is. He thought about his age frequently because he found he could never keep up with their energy. And there was another one coming just around the corner, he thought, as the image of his beautiful and pregnant wife came to mind.

But when his youngest came over and tugged on his pants, he looked down at his wide eyes and smiled. It was exhausting, but it was a good kind. The only kind that you could experience when looking at your children.

“You guys ready?” A voice in the hallway called. A head equally as bald as Tenzin’s peeked in the room, his smile as bright as the sun. “I see her ferry!”

The girls squealed and ran out, crying about getting ready while Meelo trailed behind them. Tenzin crossed his arms. “You ready for your student, father?”

Aang rolled his shoulders, still smiling. There were clear laugh wrinkles on his cheeks and around his eyes, but his vitality affected the area around him. He could brighten up a whole room without even trying. “I don’t know, Tenzin, these old bones might not be up to it.”

“You don’t look a day over fifty, father, and you know it.”

They walked down the hall together as Aang laughed. “My good looks win points with the ladies.”

“Father, you’re married.”

He remembered the day they first met Korra vividly. The Fire Nation Capital was holding an annual international performance, and all four corners of the world came to see the best the world had to offer. His father was playing a segment, and Tenzin was singing alongside his troupe.

(His children always wondered how a serious, big-bearded baritone opera singer like him snagged a normal, not-musically-inclined-at-all kindergarten teacher like Pema.)

The performers were in the giant hall watching the rehearsals when a girl no more than fourteen came up on stage. Katara, Tenzin’s mother, leaned forward in anticipation. “Aang, Aang, this was the girl I told you about! The one I saw back home!” she whispered.

She set up a stool and adjusted the microphone, and she sat with an acoustic guitar that seemed lopsided. She tapped the microphone, only to get cringing feedback. “Uh, hello,” she said. Her voice betrayed her nerves, but it held strength and conviction. “My name is Korra, and my father custom-makes guitars. If you like what you hear, you should buy one!” The whole hall chuckled, and Tenzin spied a couple cheering loudly.

And then she started to play.

It was something people have never seen or heard before. She didn’t just strum the guitar, she milked every part of it. She hit the body, emitting a hollow sound to be her rhythm. Her hands went from one place to another in a flash as her fingers played. She mastered a technique that only old, dedicated professionals could boast.

Everyone was breathless hearing her play.

After her performance, Aang and Katara met up with Korra and her parents. Aang was surprised to learn that Korra knew how to play, not only guitar, but every other instrument in the whole orchestra. Korra’s parents were floored when they realized the legendary Aang, composer of the Republic Philharmonic Orchestra and musical prodigy, was actually talking to them. After negotiations, they arranged for Korra to study music at Republic University and to be Aang’s student.

Now, four years later, they stood at the dock while the children hummed to themselves their parts of the welcome song. Aang’s hand wrapped around Katara’s like a glove, and Tenzin inhaled the sea air.

Pema leaned closer to him. “You know, I’m starting to think we should be expecting two new children in our family instead of one,” she said, patting the prominent bump on her stomach.