#TO AN ENTIRE FIRE NATION PRISON GUARDS | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

m1ckeyb3rry · 7 months ago

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── THE GLASS PRINCESS // SEVENTEEN

Series Synopsis: You wake up in a strange room with no memories, broken glass at your bedside, and a prince named Zuko as your only chance at figuring out who you really are.

Chapter Synopsis: Now that you have regained your memories, you and Bian must set off in search of allies.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.6k

Content Warnings: complicated relationships (strangers to friends to lovers to enemies to strangers to lovers to enemies to lovers), amnesia, alternate universe, lots of secrets and lying and mystery

A/N: hey…how y’all doing…sorry this chapter is so blech it’s a little transition thing so that the next arc can finally start in full LMAO i don’t really like it but it does what it has to

You threw the book away from you, earning a surprised squawk from Bian. She flapped her wings and drew back, the feathers of her crest standing on end in an attempt to look intimidating before smoothing down as she realized there was no imminent threat. Then, she cocked her head at you, cooing in confusion.

“That half-witted, self-involved, traitorous excuse for a person!” you said to her. “That — that — well, he is lucky I’ve only realized who I am now that I have already run away, or else I’d march to the palace and kill him myself!”

The Princess of the Earth Kingdom. The Princess of the Earth Kingdom. That was who you really were. The Soldiers of Agni had not been the ones to destroy the wing of the Earth Palace, you had. They were not the ones who had been vastly outnumbered in the face of opposition, you were. And the royal family of the Earth Kingdom had not entirely been killed during the coup, because you were still alive.

But — but did that mean Kuei was dead? Had they gone into Ba Sing Se and found him and murdered him? Your dear brother…there was such a low chance that he would’ve survived on his own, and an even lower chance that he would’ve escaped notice. Not with his bumbling, innocent worldview. Not with Bosco constantly at his side, drawing attention without even trying. Not without any way to defend himself, no bending or weapons or guards to speak of.

Then it had been meaningless. You had given up your life for nothing. Kuei was dead. The Avatar was dead — or, if he was not quite yet dead, then he would soon fall again at Princess Azula’s hands. Ba Sing Se had been conquered by the Fire Nation, and all the while you had been lounging around in the palace of the very country that had stolen your home, attending its school and befriending its people.

“Ursa,” you seethed, getting up and pacing restlessly, the ground shaking with your every step as your long-suppressed bending flared to life and ran wildly out of control. “A prisoner of the Earth Kingdom’s. Hilarious. Hilarious. Tortured for Fire Nation secrets! What a great story, huh, Bian? Lifted directly from Seven Soldiers of Agni, I’d wager! And all the while, I was his prisoner, and I didn’t even know it! I — I spoke so kindly to the person who ordered my execution…”

The ground stopped shaking as your anger faded, replaced with a bout of the mourning you had not yet been allowed to feel. Mourning for your brother, who you would never see again. Mourning for those days you had spent with Lee and Mushi, which were the few in which you had truly been happy. Mourning for your subjects, who were now in the grasp of the Fire Nation, likely under even more oppressive conditions than before.

“What can I even do now?” you whispered, though you had no illusions that anyone would answer. There was no Quynh to advise you this time. You had to do it yourself. You had to make the decisions.

Yet, you had attempted such a thing before, hadn’t you? You had tried to do the right thing back in the Earth Palace. You had sacrificed yourself to save your brother, to buy your kingdom time, but you had been ultimately unsuccessful. The only decisions you had ever made for yourself had been the wrong ones. So how could you be sure that the next ones you made would not be more of the same? How could you be sure when there was such a high probability that you would once again choose incorrectly?

“I am lost,” you admitted to Bian, a tear rolling down your cheek, followed by another, and then another. “I am utterly lost. I have nary a clue where to go next.”

Bian blinked at you. She was the only one around who you could talk to, but of course, you should not have expected her to be able to talk back. She wasn’t a spirit in the way of Quynh. She was just a regular, if not spectacularly bred and incredibly intelligent, bird.

There was no point in dawdling about hopelessly. Once the sun rose properly, Jia-Li would awaken and realize that you were gone for good. And then — and then you could expect the worst. There was no way that the Fire Nation would allow you to live, not now that you knew your true identity. There was no way Prince Zuko would allow you to jeopardize him like that. You had only this one night before the royal forces were sent after you.

“I have to find allies,” you said as you attempted to calm yourself by recounting the supplies you had brought with you.

It was the most important thing. If you wanted a chance at retaking your kingdom, then you needed people on your side, people who had the strength to back you up in that endeavor. A few days ago, the only allies you could claim to have had were Jia-Li and Ty Lee, but the situation had changed drastically, and now, they could both be considered nothing but enemies.

Your best chance lay in finding Katara, Sokka, and the rest of the Southern Water Tribe forces. Although their fleet was nothing magnificent, it was at least a starting point, one which you desperately needed. From there, you would take their advice into consideration as you tried to figure out a way to regain your kingdom from the clutches of the Fire Nation.

You slept fitfully, restlessly, awakening often and gazing up at the moon before uneasily convincing yourself to rest for just a little longer. The effect was that by the time the blazing sun began to rise in the cloudless sky, you were no less exhausted than you had been when it had set.

“We must be off,” you said, slinging your bag over your shoulder and whistling for Bian, who had flown off some minutes ago to hunt. When she did not appear immediately, you whistled again, holding out your arm for her to perch on. “Bian! We hardly have the time for this!”

There was a furious shriek, and then Bian tumbled out of the air, one of her wings bent at an awkward angle as a raven eagle dove after her with claws outstretched. Although she could not fly, she still snapped at her foe, her fearsome beak bloody around the corners, a streak of red upon the raven eagle’s breast where she must’ve been able to catch him.

“Bian!” you shouted, racing over to catch her and holding her to your chest as the raven eagle pulled out of its dive, too cowardly to face a foe so much larger than it. It screeched at you in contempt before soaring up out of the forest and out of view. You ignored it, setting Bian on the ground and using the ends of your sleeves to wipe at her beak. “Why would you do that? Why did you challenge that awful bird?”

Bian offered you her leg. At first, you thought she was trying to show you another injury, but beyond her broken wing, she seemed to have escaped the scuffle unscathed. Seconds later, you realized she was clutching a rolled up scroll tightly in her claws, only relinquishing it when you pressed on it with your pointer finger.

“Where did you find this?” you said. It was sealed with the stamp of the Fire Nation military, though you doubted that that raven eagle had any association with the army. Likely it had intercepted some official communications, and Bian, who had after all once been a Fire Nation bird, had attacked him for the treachery.

There wasn’t much written on the note, but for you, who had just regained your memories, it was yet another foundation-shaking statement.

The Avatar lives. Alert the Fire Lord immediately.

The Avatar was alive. Aang was alive, and he must’ve hale, for such an urgent letter to be sent off to the military, which meant that there was hope. If — if you could just reach him before Princess Azula did, then there was hope. Returning to Ba Sing Se would not be such a fever dream if you had the Avatar at your side, and you scooped Bian back into your arms, kissing her between her eyes.

“You always bring me such lovely things, Bian,” you said. She cooed at you plaintively, and you winced in dismay as you realized her wing hung uselessly at her side, her body shaking in your hands from the pain of the destruction of her frail bones. “And this is the thanks you receive. From what I recall, there is a village nearby, and there should be someone who can treat you in it. We will do that first, and from there, we will figure out some way to find the Avatar.”

Strangely, as you trekked through the forest, you found yourself grateful for your enrollment at the academy. This was exactly the kind of situation you had run drills for, and whereas in your years as the princess of the Earth Kingdom you would’ve run out of breath or fallen or underwent some other, similar calamity, your time as Ursa of the Fire Nation had prepared you for this.

It was the last gift Prince Zuko had given you, unwittingly though it may have been. By sending you to that school, he had inadvertently prepared you to be his most dangerous enemy — made more dangerous for the fact that he must have believed you still loved him, or at least held enough affection for him that you’d excuse his actions upon coming to know of them.

You didn’t excuse them. How could you? He had taken everything from you, and then he had dragged you back to his nation without any care for how it might make you feel. What selfishness! What ignorance! What folly! It was blindness on his part, to imagine that a bear could flourish in a land of phoenixes, to truly believe that you could’ve been happy in the Fire Nation for any extended amount of time.

You made it to the village by noon, and though there was no reason for anyone there to recognize you, you ducked your head as you raced to the post office, where all mail brought to the village was kept to be sorted and distributed into mailboxes. Because of the large influx of messenger hawks that went back and forth from the post office, you were more likely to find help for Bian there than anyone else.

“Excuse me, postmaster, sir,” you said, bowing at the man who was sitting at the counter behind piles of letters. “Might I trouble you for a moment?”

“What is it?” he said gruffly, clearly irritated by your request. You wilted at the unsaid rebuke, but then you straightened your shoulders again. It didn’t matter if the man was annoyed — Bian needed help, and you would get it for her.

“My hawk, I think her wing is broken,” you said, placing Bian on the counter and shushing her when she tried to flap away in vain. The postmaster squinted at her.

“She’s a fine example of the species,” he said, a note of suspicion entering his tone. “Where’d you find such a lovely creature? And why’d you let her get in this condition? Birds such as her are meant to be ornaments, symbols of status, not actual messengers.”

Yet another thing Prince Zuko had neglected to tell you. Well, this you could not blame him for; Bian was not the sort to sit around and be a status symbol. Flying and working and fighting were a part of her nature, and she would be miserable without those outlets for her energy.

“She’s mine,” you said. “I got her in the capital city. You know that they only sell the finest of wares there. Though, of course, I could not afford a hawk for mere decorative purposes, so it’s true that I use her to send my letters.”

The postmaster scoffed. “Idiot.”

“Look, is it possible for her to be healed?” you said, rolling your eyes when he bent to inspect Bian’s wing. “That’s all I’m asking for, sir.”

Now that you remembered who you were, it felt odd to be so deferential to a person who you outranked so vastly. Unfortunately, at least for now, everyone thought you were nothing but another common girl, which meant that just about any person you conversed with had to be addressed with respect.

“She’ll be alright in a couple of weeks,” he said, reaching into a drawer and pulling out a piece of cloth, wrapping it around Bian’s wing so that it was flush to her body. “You’ll have to carry her around and take care of her in the meantime, but as long as you’re willing to do that, she’ll be able to fly again soon enough. It’ll be like she was never injured.”

“Yes, of course,” you said, sighing in relief at the thought that she would make a full recovery. “Thank you for your help. Did you hear, Bian? You’ll be okay.”

“You named her Bian?” the postmaster said. “What, have you been engaging with the colony trash?”

“Pardon?” you said. “What did you just say?”

“The colonies are such a blight on the Fire Nation,” he said. “Infecting even good and proper girls like you with their backwards customs and words. It’s a disgrace.”

The colonies was the general term used to refer to the Earth Kingdom villages which had fallen to Fire Nation rule. You had never been to any, but from what you had gathered, they were hotbeds of strife and inequality, where the Fire Nation soldiers lorded over the native Earth Kingdom citizens.

Of course — you had not realized it when you had given it to her, but Bian’s name was Earth Kingdom, so the postmaster was not entirely incorrect in guessing that you were from the colonies or had spent some days there. That was not what you were so horrified by — it was the latter part of his accusation, the notion of the Earth Kingdom citizens infecting the Fire Nation, which you took offense to.

Your people were not the invaders. Your people were not the aggressors. Your people had been living in peace until the Fire Nation attacked. If there was any blight, it was them, those destructive forces who burnt and burnt until the world fell to their feet. They were the stain upon the earth, so on what moral authority could this postmaster stand and claim that you were the disgraceful ones?

“Hm,” you said, though you longed to shout at him. There would be no gain from a burst of anger, though. It would only serve to give away your disguise, and you could not have that, not when you were still close enough to the capital that you could be easily tracked down by Prince Zuko and his ilk if you made even a single misstep. “Maybe so.”

“Do you need anything else? I’ll suffer pay cuts if I don’t get this mail sorted by evening,” the postmaster said.

“Pay cuts? You’re a government employee, aren’t you? Your pay shouldn’t be cut without extreme circumstances demanding it,” you said.

“It’s a new policy that Fire Lord Ozai’s put into place,” the postmaster said. “Those not performing to expected capacity will be punished, even though expected capacity is such an unrealistic goal. I haven’t seen my family in a week! I’ve just been sorting mail, mail, and more mail! But, ah, that’s not to say I’m complaining. All hail the royal family!”

“All hail the royal family,” you repeated, as was customary, even though the words were sour on your tongue. “Though that’s certainly a strange development.”

“It’s fine,” the postmaster said. “The Fire Lord is right, as per usual. If even one piece of a machine is not running smoothly, then the entire construction is forfeit. Maybe it doesn’t seem important, but if I am deficient in my work, then the entire nation will be that much delayed.”

“Very well,” you said. “If that’s how you wish to view it, I shan’t stop you. In fact, I’ll leave you to it, though not without a final question: is there any kind of transport that I can take to get somewhere else?”

“Depends on where you want to go,” he said, hunching over the pile of mail again and beginning to sort once more, eyes flicking up to meet yours when he spoke and then returning to his task immediately after.

“I’m not sure,” you said. “Just somewhere far from here.”

Belatedly, you realized you probably sounded even more suspicious, which was not a good thing, considering the postmaster was already likely questioning you, but luckily, he did not say anything beyond humming.

“I know of a couple that’s rented a carriage to take them to some southern hospital. You could probably ask to go along with them,” he said.

You brightened. The south was as good of a place to start as any; either way, it was in a different direction from the capital city, so even if the trip did not take you to the Avatar, it would deposit you in a place that was further from Prince Zuko’s reach than you were at present.

“Thank you,” you said. “And where might I find them?”

“The town square, most likely,” he said.

“Farewell, then,” you said, tucking Bian under your arm as you raced off. She did not protest, closing her eyes and enjoying the breeze as you sprinted towards the town square, hoping you would not miss the rental carriage’s departure.

As you skidded to a stop in front of a fountain, you huffed in relief when you saw a pregnant woman standing beside a man with a bag slung across his back. Though you had no description to go off of, you were willing to bet money that they were the couple that the postmaster had been referring to, and, after taking a second to catch your breath, you put on your best smile and walked over to bow at the couple.

“Hello, sir, madam,” you said. “I heard from the postmaster that you’ve rented a carriage to go to a southern hospital.”

“Yes, we did. It should be arriving soon,” the woman said.

“Why?” the man said warily, shifting so that he was standing half in front of the woman protectively.

“If you are not opposed, I should like to join you on your journey,” you said, poking Bian in the side. She squawked at you in indignation, and though you momentarily felt bad for bothering her when she was already injured, the noise served to draw the couple’s attention to her. Giving them a winning smile, you brandished Bian in front of you. “As you can see, my messenger hawk is injured. I am hoping to go to that same hospital and seek medical care for her.”

Bian cocked her head at them, blinking in a way that you could only pray they found charming. The man and woman exchanged looks.

“I didn’t know they treated animals, too,” the woman said, rubbing her stomach unsurely.

“Given the state of the, um, economy, they’ve expanded their client base,” you said, batting your own eyelashes. “I shall recompense you upon arrival, naturally.”

“I suppose it can’t hurt,” the man said, though you doubted he trusted you any.

“Thank you, sir. I promise you will not regret this!” you said.

“I sure hope not,” he said. Bian nipped your hand, and you shook your head before setting her on your shoulder, though not without reprimanding her for the impolite behavior.

“You won’t!”

The carriage rolled into the square only minutes later, and you thanked Quynh internally for sending you into the town at just the right time. Only a bit of a delay and you would’ve been stuck traveling by foot, but instead you would be making your way across the Fire Nation in relative style, taking up your own bench in the carriage and letting Bian rest atop your bags beside you.

“So, what’s your name?” the woman said as the carriage rolled off. You almost responded with Ursa out of habit, but you stopped yourself just in time. You didn’t want to wear anything associated with Prince Zuko, not even a name, and if the couple happened to be questioned at any point, then you did not want your well-known moniker to fall from their lips.

“Jia-Li,” you said easily, borrowing the first Fire Nation name you could think of, apologizing to your likely-frantic roommate as you did so. You had no specific quarrel with her, after all. One day, eventually, when she joined her nation’s army and became your enemy in full, you would not think of her so fondly, but for the moment, she was nothing more than a girl who had been kind to you. Your friend. “My name is Jia-Li.”

“That’s a pretty name,” she said.

“Thank you,” you said. You recognized that you probably ought to ask them for their names in return, but you did not. They were, after all, doing you a great favor by letting you ride in the carriage with them, and you would not repay their kindness with understanding.

If you knew their names, then you could incriminate them as accomplices in your escape, should you ever be captured or otherwise under duress. No, unawareness was the best policy. Maybe you’d seem ruder for it, but it was for their own good that you did so.

“I’m due to give birth soon,” the woman said after an awkward moment where no one spoke. “That’s why we’re going to the southern hospital, you see.”

“Do you expect complications?” you said.

“Every woman in my line has died in childbirth,” she said. “My mother, and her mother before her, and hers before her, so on and so forth. It’s like a curse. We’re hoping that, with the advancements in medicine that have taken place recently, there’s a chance I won’t fall victim to it as well. The southern hospital is supposedly the best in all the Fire Nation — we’ve been on the waitlist for an appointment for months.”

“Oh,” you said, staring out of the window at the scenery flashing by. “My mother died in childbirth as well. I suppose we have that in common.”

Or maybe not. Maybe Sokka’s hunch had been right and Long Feng had had some hand in her death, too. Maybe childbirth was just an easy way to explain her demise, which would’ve been unnatural in any other circumstance. You wouldn’t put it past the scheming Grand Secretariat and his Dai Li underlings, who had proven they would do anything for just a little bit more power.

That was the first thing you’d do, you vowed. As soon as you had your kingdom back, you would put every single one of those horrible people that had had a hand in your parents’ deaths and Ba Sing Se’s fall on trial. None of them would be spared. Even if it took days, you would bring each of them to justice. Perhaps it was a vindictive thought to have, but it made you feel better to think it, so you did not allow anything resembling a conscience to demand you stop.

“I’m sorry,” the man said.

“I mourn who she might’ve been,” you said. “But not who she was. I never knew her, after all. Though I thank you for it, you should save your concern for those in direr need.”

The closer and closer you got to the southern hospital, the more the man fretted, fussing over his wife, who seemed to be perpetually near tears. You did not blame either of them; the prospect of the woman’s possibly imminent death was sickening for you, too, and you did not even know her that well.

It was mystifying to you. If she knew that she had such a high chance of dying while giving birth, why had she chosen to conceive? It made no sense. It was an entirely avoidable form of death, and despite the insensitive nature of the query, you posed the question to her.

“Because,” she said without even taking the time to think, squeezing her husband’s hand, “there’s a chance.”

“A chance?” you said.

“A chance,” she affirmed. “That I’ll survive. That our baby will be healthy. That we can have the family we’ve dreamed of. It’s a small chance, admittedly. Maybe even a minuscule one. Most people call us insane for risking it. I’m sure you think the same. But the truth is that, as long as that chance exists, I have to rely on it. We have to.”

“Do you think it’s worth it?” you said.

“Maybe not to some,” she said. “Everyone has to decide what they value, and then they just have to do what they can in pursuit of that thing.”

You were silent for a second, swallowing, gathering your thoughts, finding boldness in the anonymity of the conversation. They did not know you, and you did not know them, and it gave you the confidence to say something you would not dare vocalize to anyone else.

“What if a person values two things that are in conflict?” you said. “Say, their home and someone they love. What then?”

It was the man who spoke up this time. “If they really love that person, then they’ll do as that person wishes, even if it’s difficult. Even if it means they can’t have something else they desire.”

He glanced at the woman when he spoke, and you realized that he must have been speaking from personal experience.

“I see,” you said. “I guess it must be like that.”

It was a confirmation of what you had thought — that Prince Zuko had never loved you, not like you had loved him. You had given him everything, had allowed him through Quynh’s Door, and all the while, he had felt nothing for you. He had been pretending. You had told him the way to get into the palace, and he had seized the opportunity you had presented him with.

That was all you were to him. That was all you had ever been. An opportunity. A key. A door. What a stupid girl you were, to think he had ever thought of you as anything but Princess Y/N, his very own entrance to the Earth Palace.

“We’re really worried,” the man confided in you as the woman slept. “It took so long for the hospital to agree to see us, and longer to find a rental carriage willing to travel so far. If anything happens and we’re late to the appointment, I’m afraid they’ll turn us away. As it is, we’ll probably arrive with only an hour to spare.”

“I’m sure there won’t be any issues,” you said. Almost on cue, the carriage caught on something, and then it rolled to a stop. You swore under your breath before pursing your lips, not wanting to seem even impoliter than you already had.

“What’s happening?” the man said in a panic, pulling the curtains back and peering out the window. His wife woke with a start, glancing around, still dazed.

“What’s going on?” she echoed.

“By my estimates, it’s a routine stop. Perhaps one of the dragon moose grew tired and needed to be given water. There’s nothing to fret about,” you soothed, though you had no clue whether that was the truth or not. “I’m sure we’ll get going in just a few moments.”

The carriage door opened, and the driver entered, hunching over to fit in the doorway as he looked at you all with a grave expression.

“It seems we’ve hit someone,” he said.

“What?” the man shrieked.

“As in, they’re dead?” you said.

“No, they’re living, but they’re demanding payment for the injuries and trauma,” he said.

“Go on, then,” you said. “Pay them.”

“The company I work for doesn’t give us extra allowance for accidents,” the driver said. “It’s stated in the terms of the contract that passengers are responsible for additional fees incurred during the trip.”

“Just negotiating is going to take a while,” the man said, pale-faced. “Not to mention any savings we didn’t waste on hiring you are meant to pay for the hospital visit. We don’t have any extra!”

“You’ve possibly wounded the child for life,” the carriage driver said dully. “Yet you’re still being stingy?”

You frowned as you watched the back and forth, the way the woman’s eyes had widened and grown glossy with tears, the way the man’s fists were clenched to disguise the trembling of his hands. Though the situation was so different, you were reminded of Ba Sing Se. Here, too, the ordinary people were suffering. And here, too, though they were not your people, you felt a sense of duty prevailing in you, commanding you to help.

“I’ll deal with it,” you said. “You, just get them to the hospital as soon as possible. They have an appointment that they cannot miss.”

“But Jia-Li, what about your bird?” the woman said.

“Eh?” you said. She pointed at Bian. “Oh, we’ll, um, find another doctor nearby. You ought to worry only for your own condition, madam.”

“Thank you, miss,” the man said.

“Consider this my payment for the ride and the advice,” you said. “I thank you for both, and I pray that your child may be born with a good spirit and a healthy mother. May Agni be with you always.”

“You as well,” the woman said.

“We won’t ever forget what you’ve done for us,” the man promised you. “This may be the last time we meet, but we’ll remember you.”

You smiled at them, picking up your bag of things in one hand and Bian in the other.

“I’ll think of you often,” you promised, kicking the door shut behind you and hopping off the carriage, waving at the carriage driver to indicate that he could leave without you before turning to the scene of the wreck — only to find that there was no wreck, just a familiar boy standing and staring at you with a dropped jaw.

“Princess — Princess — Princess Y/N? Is that really you?” he said.

Your bag fell from your hands in shock as you comprehended who you were looking at. Placing Bian on the ground, you took a step forward, reaching your hands out, trying to ascertain if he was real or not.

“Sokka?” you said. “Sokka, what are you doing here? Why do I always encounter you in these strange, random places?”

“I should be asking you the same question!” he said. “Aren’t you supposed to be dead right now?”

“Yes,” you said, and then you were throwing your arms around him and hugging him tightly, so relieved to finally have found one true ally, one person who knew who you really were. His own arms wound around your back, and unbidden, your lower lip began to tremble as the safety of his embrace finally allowed you to unabashedly weep. “Yes, I should be dead. I thought I was dead.”

“Looks like your brother threw a fit over nothing,” a new voice said — Toph! It was Toph, springing to her feet from where she had been lying in the road, dusting herself off. “I mean, honestly, I get that he was sad and all, but an escape is not exactly the moment to throw yourself to the ground and bawl and dramatically swear you’ll never leave the city your sister is buried in! It’s a miracle we dragged him and Bosco away.”

“What?” you said. “Do you — Do you mean to say that my brother is alive?”

“Yeah, he is,” Toph said. “He ran off to explore the Earth Kingdom and find himself, though. Something about how if ‘his dear baby sister could be so brave, then it was about time he started doing the same.’”

“Kuei,” you said, overcome with a wave of affection for your brother. He was alive. Somehow, despite the odds, despite everything working against him, he had made it. He had found the others, and he had survived, which meant you could see him again. The two of you could reclaim Ba Sing Se together, united in your efforts instead of carrying each other’s banners in memory.

“He really loves you,” Sokka said. “It’s one of the few things I have to give to him. He’s a lot of things, but a bad brother isn’t one of them.”

You wiped away your tears, letting go of Sokka and stooping down to grab your bag and the discarded Bian, who thankfully did not seem too miffed about the proceedings, nudging you with her beak in what you could only assume was her method of showing you affection.

“He’s the most wonderful brother,” you said. “I didn’t always appreciate that, but I will make sure to tell him every hour of every day once we may meet again.”

“That’s cheesy,” Toph said. “But kinda cute.”

“Wait, Toph,” you said. “This is a little bit unrelated, but were you the one that the carriage hit?”

“Uh,” Toph said, scratching the back of her neck.

“Well,” Sokka said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Kind of?” Toph said.

Your jaw dropped as you realized what they had done, and, looking around to make sure no one was watching, you lifted a pebble using your Earthbending and flicked it into Sokka’s forehead. This earned you a wounded yelp from him and a cackling laugh from Toph, who you had not bothered attacking on account of her seismic sense.

“You buffoons,” you said. “Did you seriously try to scam me?”

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fanfic-gremlin-ft-trauma · 1 year ago

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You Don’t Have to Hide from Me - Mai/Ty Lee (Avatar)

Gen, Word Count: 2072

Mai/Ty Lee (Avatar)

In prison, distraught and tired, Mai opens up.

The prison floor was cold and dry, and disgusting. Mai had wanted to retch the whole ride there, and as soon as she was thrown onto the murky ground, bile travelled up her throat. Having Ty Lee there helped, though. She was sure of that, at least. Her relentless optimism wasn’t as present as usual, and that, to Mai, was more disturbing than the whole prison combined. Ty Lee’s eyes were downcast, and the accompanying smile to every comment she made to try and lighten the mood didn’t quite reach her eyes.

They leaned back against their cell wall, contemplative silence between them as the sounds of rattling prison cells and guards yelling clouded the air. Mai instinctively reached down to her pocket to play with her knives but groaned as she remembered they’d been taken away. Ty Lee eyed her with concern, but she didn’t say anything. There wasn’t much to say, really. They’d betrayed Azula and, by extension, the entire Fire Nation. Together.

That part had shocked Mai the most, how Ty Lee had so readily chi-blocked Azula. How she had stood in front of her, eyes glinting and wide and frantic. How she held her hand and told her to run—run with her.

Mai shook the thoughts off. She knew what they meant, that she had harboured feelings for her best friend for…a long time. She didn’t need them, especially when Ty Lee was her only true friend. (She would count Zuko, but their relationship was too much of a mess to consider him soundly as her friend.)

A soft hand was suddenly placed over hers on the floor, and Mai’s head snapped up to see Ty Lee looking at her. Her expression was difficult to read. Her eyebrows were drawn, and her mouth downturned, but a soft look in her eyes could be seen even in the dim cell light. Mai’s mouth briefly went dry. Ty Lee really was beautiful. Even with dishevelled hair and dirty clothes, she still managed to be the most radiant thing in the room.

Mai swallowed.

“You okay?” Ty Lee asked. Her voice was timid and small, and Mai hated the prison just that much more.

“Existentially or physically? Because not so good in terms of both.”

Ty Lee’s frown deepened, and she shifted closer to Mai. Their arms were pressed together.

“Mai… I don’t know what to do. Did we do the right thing? Betraying Azula like that? She is—was our best friend.”

Mai shot her a sharp look. “No. She wasn’t. She manipulated us. Real friends don’t do that. We did the right thing, even if the outcome is… less than ideal right now.”

Ty Lee didn’t look comforted by that. In fact, her eyebrows furrowed even more, her gaze on the ground. Mai turned her hand under Ty Lee’s and threaded their fingers together. She could allow herself that, at least. Friends held hands, and Ty Lee was upset. It was a simple gesture of comfort. Nothing else.

Ty Lee found her eyes again at the contact, and this time, her lips curled into a soft smile. Mai blamed the darkening of her cheeks on the heat of the prison cell.

“That was really brave, you know. Standing up to her like that. You must really love him.” Ty Lee’s smile faded minutely.

“Thank you, and…I do. But not in that way.” Before Ty Lee could comment, Mai continued, “I do love him. And what we had was…it meant something to me. But there’s a difference between loving and being in love with someone.”

Like how I feel about you, Mai didn’t say. Like how I wish you felt about me.

Ty Lee seemed to consider it before smiling up at Mai again, and it looked more like her usual one. “That’s so sweet. I’m sure he really appreciates what you did.”

Mai felt the corner of her mouth tick up. “He’d better. I risked my ass getting sautéed.”

Ty Lee’s giggles were enough to cure any disease, and Mai was in a trance. Her smile was more genuine as she shifted closer to Mai, lifting their twined hands to rest on their legs. There was a beat of silence.

“I’m also grateful, y’know,” Ty Lee said.

Mai eyed her, slightly confused.

“If you hadn’t stood up to her first, I would’ve never been able to.”

Mai opened her mouth to protest, but Ty Lee was quicker. “I’m serious. You make me feel brave. And I know that I’m brave by myself, it’s just…”

Mai didn’t try to interrupt her that time. She waited.

“It’s hard. To feel like I can hold my own when my whole life I’ve been surrounded by carbon copies of myself. It was like they were the better versions of me that I’ve never been able to have.”

Mai felt the exact moment her heart shattered into a million pieces.

She tried to speak, but Ty Lee carried on. “I always tried to be unique, tried to have my own skills. But they’ve always been better. And I…”

Mai felt her stomach drop when she saw, beyond the dark that surrounded them, a tear slip down Ty Lee’s cheek.

“I just want to feel like myself,” Ty Lee whispered. “Like I can be brave and strong.”

Mai squeezed her hand and shifted until their thighs were pressed close.

“I’m not great at feelings, but I am good at seeing through stupidity. Ty Lee, you are one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. And I’m not just talking about the fact that you can throw a punch. I’m saying that you’re strong emotionally, too. You put up with Azula’s mind games for all those years, still managed to find individuality in a house of people who looked like you.”

Mai pursed her lips. “You put up with me. Even though I’m dry and cold and haven’t cried since I was six.”

Ty Lee softened at that. “Mai…I don’t need to ‘put up with you’. You’re my best friend. My real best friend. I’ve never had to be anything but myself around you. And I love you for that.”

Mai’s heart clenched and shattered all over again because Ty Lee just didn’t know. She didn’t know how perfect and brave and strong she was, so that anyone who saw her would see it. How headstrong but kind and sweet she was, so you’d instantly fall for her.

Ty Lee was everything Mai wasn’t, and she’d never know how much Mai loved her back. Not the way that Mai loved her back, and that alone was enough to break her heart.

Mai tried a smile and couldn’t tell if it worked, but judging by Ty Lee’s shock, she’d say it did. “Thank you, but don’t change the subject. You know that you are brave and strong, right?”

Ty Lee was silent for a moment before her features relaxed, and a small smile spread over her face. “Yeah. I think I do. Thank you, Mai. For someone who isn’t ‘good at feelings,’ you really do know how to make me feel better.”

Mai rolled her eyes. “No. I’m not. I just think you take what I say too seriously.”

Ty Lee’s smile widened, and a small dimple appeared on her cheek. “Maybe I do. Or maybe you take yourself too seriously.” She poked at Mai’s shoulder playfully.

Mai knew it was meant to be a harmless remark, but it made her think of years standing still and silent beside a mother who always cared more about her job, status and appearance than her own child. Suddenly, she was back to being a stone wall of nothingness, staring at kids playing and shouting while she sat behind a desk, blank as her mother scolded her for anything and everything, insisting that as long as Mai did what they wanted, as long as she felt nothing, she’d get everything she wanted.

“Well, sorry I can’t feel any emotion besides indifference. Kind of hard to when you grow up with a mom like mine.” Mai turned away from Ty Lee before seeing the expression on her face.

“Mai, I didn’t mean—”

Mai turned harshly and cut Ty Lee a sharp look, silencing her. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve always been this way, so we might as well make fun of it, right? How funny that I grew up thinking that emotions were weakness and how if I showed any, it meant I was a burden of a child, and I was making my parents’ lives more difficult.”

Ty Lee looked devastated, and Mai hated every word coming out of her mouth, but she didn’t stop. “They’d always tell me how kids who cried and had tantrums were treated too nicely and that if I ever did that, I’d be ‘sorted out’.”

“So you were taught to be emotionless?” Ty Lee’s voice was soft and scared.

“No. I wasn’t taught. I was scared!” Mai was ashamed as soon as she said it and turned away from Ty Lee entirely, snatching her hand away and grasping her own arms.

To her horror, she felt her shoulders shaking and eyes stinging slightly. “I was scared, okay? Scared of what they’d think of me if they knew just how much I felt, scared of what emotions would do to me. Because I’ve seen what they do to people, and I—”

Mai felt a tear slip down her face, relief and pain at the same time. “I still let it happen. I still felt like I had to hide. Had to hide my feelings because it was easier than admitting that I had them in the first place.” Mai didn’t know if she was talking about her childhood or Ty Lee at that point, but it didn’t matter because she just said all of that to her. It was terrifying, but it also felt as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Just as another tear threatened to slip down her face, she felt a hand tentatively land on her right shoulder and turn her around.

Mai kept her eyes cast down, not wanting to face the embarrassment of seeing Ty Lee’s look of pity. A soft hand cupping her cheek made her look up, lifting Mai’s face to meet grey eyes.

Ty Lee didn’t have pity in her features, and it was instead the softest look that Mai had ever seen on a human being’s face. She registered how close they were and how she just needed to lean in a little closer to—

“Mai.”

She shivered at the gentle way Ty Lee said her name.

“You’re my favourite person in the world, and I wouldn’t want you to change anything about yourself. For anyone, of course, but especially for me. You don’t have to hide from me, you know that, right?”

Mai felt her heart clench, and her eyes danced across Ty Lee’s perfect face. When Mai’s gaze dropped briefly to her lips, Ty Lee hitched a breath and, inexplicably, leaned closer. Mai felt a surge of confidence as she leaned up, only hesitating for a moment to make sure that Ty Lee wasn’t moving away when she kissed her. It was soft and chaste but still the best kiss she’d ever had because it was Ty Lee, her best friend, whom she loved more than anyone. Mai reached around to place her hand gently on Ty Lee’s waist and rested their foreheads together.

“Is this alright?” She had to ask. Mai wasn’t a saint but forcefully kissing someone because you misread the mood was pretty messed up.

“Yes. Very, very alright.”

Mai laughed quietly and leaned up to find Ty Lee already there. That time, the kiss was more sure and more confident, and Mai wasn’t afraid of melting into Ty Lee’s touch as she stroked her cheek with her thumb. Her mouth was soft and warm, and even with the disgusting prison, there was nowhere else Mai would want to be.

The war wasn’t over, and there would still be work to do, but for the time being, Mai could allow herself this, the semblance of peace and calm that came with being in love.

And to have that love requited? It felt as though Mai was truly happy for the first time.

#mailee #mai x Ty Lee #mailee fic #atla #fanfic #fanfiction #I have never seen mailee fics with them as the main pairing #so I was like fine I’ll do it myself #this is my first time posting a fic so be gentle #<333

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itstokkii · 8 months ago

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I've been considering making this post for a while but hesitated since I don't wanna beat a dead horse.

I'd like you to look at this post looking back at the Andijan massacre. What started as people protesting issues like distribution of gas, electricity, and other human needs and rights ended in a bloodbath. A cousin of mine told me schools taught it as "the national guard protecting civilians from Islamist terrorists."

I'd also like you to look at this paper by the Human Rights Watch on the torture and persecution of Uzbek Muslims like me during Islam Karimov's 20 years of dictatorial rule. Even Uzbek Muslims outside of Uzbekistan weren't safe. Multiple family friends of mine were randomly tackled to the ground and arrested by Korean Police on accounts of "domestic terrorism" in Uzbekistan, and some were only released about 5 years ago.

You weren't allowed to wear hijabs(even in Islamic universities), openly pray, read the Quran, or do anything religious. Someone would always be there watching to report you.

I wasn't allowed to go outside by myself around my neighborhood due to Uzbek government agents kidnapping the children of Uzbek diaspora abroad. I wasn't allowed to wear a hijab until after we went to Uzbekistan 2 years after Karimov's regime ended, and we made sure it was safe there and back. I wasn't even allowed to visit the country to see my relatives for almost a decade because of the crackdown on Uzbek Muslims.

When Uzbekistan was colonized by Russia as the Uzbek SSR and even before then as Turkestan, Russia made sure to stamp out religion entirely. They killed off scholars and poets like Cholpon, who wrote about Uzbek self-determination and praised religious texts. Uzbekistan's first leadership since its independence carried on with this policy, with Russian colonial values ingrained into them.

As for Korea, our partition was opposed by the whole peninsula. When Jejuans protested the US-UN backed elections, it ended in 10% of Jeju's population being killed by joint US-Korean forces. Though the South Korean Government apologized for the first time recently, the US stays silent. What a surprise. The bodies of these Jejuans were buried in mass pits and had the Jeju Airport built on top of it.

The US still fails to apologize for the No Gun Ri Massacre, in which the US Army murdered about 300 Korean villagers despite knowing they were civilians and therefore not targets. The US also indiscriminately bombed North Korea with more bombs than they had in the Pacific Theater in World War 2, martyring almost 2 million Koreans.

After the Korean War followed almost 30 years of dictatorship by Syngman Rhee, then a military junta, then Park Chung Hee and Chun Doo Hwan. During this time, university students protesting the dictatorial rule established by the US were arrested as "anti communists," and be tortured repeatedly, sometimes even until death.

Though the Seodaemun Prison is known for being Japan's colonial prison where they arrested independence activists, the Korean dictatorships used it to arrest people in favor of democracy.

The Namyeong-Dong Anti-Communist Investigation Office was a similar prison, in which one of the floors had extremely thin, narrow windows to avoid prisoners from escaping. Park Jong Cheol, a Seoul National University student who was protesting against Korea's military dictatorship at the time, was incarcerated here and routinely tortured. He eventually died due to water torture.

The Gwangju Massacre was a protest held by many activists against Chun Doo Hwan's dictatorial rule, which came about as he staged a coup and successfully overthrew the previous government. As they called for democracy, Chun Doo Hwan brought the national army, who fired upon, killed, and raped the protesters. Chun Doo Hwan was never held responsible for his crimes before he died, and his grandson recently apologized to the victims and their loved ones. It was found that the US approved Chun Doo Hwan's plans to use armed forces on the protesters in Gwangju.

Though the Gwangju Massacre is taught about in Korea, much of the US involvement and responsibility of the horrors of the dictatorship is left out.

The US does not allow Korea to produce its own nuclear arsenal, allowing Korea to rely entirely on the US for nuclear support. Additionally, the existing presence of the USFK in Korea and their joint training sessions with the ROK army further provokes North Korea and therefore gives the US a "justification" to maintain its military presence in Korea.

Growing up I was taught where to look for nearby nuclear shelters. We visited the War Memorial of Korea multiple times, and air raid sirens are rare but are happening more often recently.

This, along with the added danger of living as Uzbek diaspora outside of Uzbekistan as Muslims.

So when I say "please respectfully depict Russia and the US when it comes to the Cold War in a way that does not center them entirely" and "please keep the gravity of their actions in mind as you write them; Hetalia does not exist in an apolitical vacuum,"

and I am met with "mature adults" telling me that "they're just characters," or

"i'm the one ruining the fandom," or

"block and move on," or

"i love russia and america cold war!!!" or

"you're crazy" or

"moralf*g" or

"someone's sensitive"

and especially from russian artists who call me an "American SJW." russians calling me an uzbek overly sensitive for asking that they portray their country a little more respectfully to the victims of their colonialism. yeah that's completely normal

you are normalizing centering discussions about the Cold War to the imperial core, and then having nothing of substance to say about and being absolutely insensitive towards someone who's life has been and still are dictated by these imperial forces, and even harrassing them.

where's the "block and move on" mentality you prided yourselves for?

this fandom hasn't changed since the 2010s. it's just more quiet in the way it marginalizes victims of colonialism.

oh, and that person who told me to "block and move on, sister!!!" when it comes to me explaining myself as an uzbek-korean muslim?

you're not one to talk. 네가 뭘아는데 ㅅㅂ새끼야

#hetalia fandom #vent #disk horse #i cant wait to have a barrage of insults thrown at me again ♥️#you need to go get your brain chemistry checked i think #hetalia #for those of you who comforted me during this time thank you all so so much #my mental health severely declined that week #i'm so grateful to have you as friends

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lizardlicks · 1 year ago

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a thing I noodled up based on @ablueeyedarcher's shifterverse AtLA AU setting. The only needed context is that Zuko's other side is a fire ferret, and Sokka's is a fucking huge wolf.

Ozai hasn't settled into his new.... living arrangements (temporary living arrangements, he keeps forcefully insisting in the privacy of his own mind) for very long. He can't sense the sun the way he used to, can't feel the crawl of time as measured by Agni's looping path, but there is at least enough light that falls through what passes as a window high up on the wall of his cell that he can make a close enough guess. His generous (traitorous) son had the decency to face a Child of Agni to the South.

It's been a few days at least, maybe even a full week by his estimation, when he's jolted out of sleep by a distinct sound. Keys turning in the lock of his cell door. Ozai sits up, takes a moment to compose himself, smoothing down the plain prison robes he's been dumped into, then rises to meet his loyal subject.

"I was expecting you soon--" his greeting dies on his tongue. Ozai does not find Azula standing in the doorway. Neither is there a general, no dedicated council member or magistrate. Not even a lowly clerk. Instead he's surprised to find the Avatar's obnoxious Watertribe pet. He's leaning against the wall opposite the cell, the door of which stands wide open. The peasant casually flips the key around his fingers as he fixes Ozai with a cold, blank stare.

There's something in his other hand but Ozai can't tell what it is. Metal-- gold, twisted and misshapen. Ozai narrows his eyes. The Watertribe seems content to let him marinate in the uncertainty of their shared silence. Finally Ozai’s mounting intrigue gets the better of his judgment.

“Did the Avatar send you to taunt me,” he asks.

"No."

"My son?"

"No."

"Your chief, then."

"Just me.”

He's strangely reticent. A few days ago this boy wouldn't shut up the entire airship flight back to the Fire Nation capital. Now he stands and watches Ozai with an unnerving intensity. There's an open door and a wide gap of freedom between them. Ozai can see that the teen's leg is still well bandaged, though he's not aided by any crutch or cane at the moment. He could bolt and make a bid for freedom easily. This knowledge isn't comforting. Rather, it feels like a trap. He narrows his eyes at the boy and asks, "Why are you here?"

The watertribe answers him by throwing the scrap of metal down onto the floor between them. It lands in the sliver of morning light Agni has painted on the floor, and now Ozai can recognize it for what it is, despite its extremely crushed state: the animal cage that sat on his desk. It had sat on his desk for years and no one questioned it.

"Aang would be really sad if I culled you in your cage like you deserve, so I'm going to give you the fighting chance you never gave him. The way is clear. There's a weapon rack in the guard barracks." The Watertribe's lips peel back from his teeth in what could be called a smile if one was very generous and used the term loosely. Dawn light glints off his large, sharp eye teeth. Ozai feels fear hollowing out his stomach, and adrenaline hits his veins like ice water. "You have a twenty second head start. I suggest you run.”

#sokka #ozai #zukka #mini fic #shifterverse #atla #avatar the last airbender #lizard writes stupid things #thank you transboyzuko for reminding me of this #sokka is going to hunt ozai for sport

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demonqueenbeee · 7 months ago

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The look in her eyes was different from what it had been those years before. 7 years ago her eyes had been a bright blue that reminded him of hope and the flowing ocean. Hers and her brother's eyes were the first he had ever seen to be so purely watertribe. And she was probably one of the prettiest girls he had ever seen in general.

He did wonder what it would have been it he had just.....

But then there was the first betrayal and he saw the hope in her eyes dull and the clear blue seem cloudy.

He remembered the look in her eyes as Azula struck down the avatar. How she cried and then nearly drowned them all to get to the boy's charred body.

The second betrayal she wasn't there to see but it was perhaps the worst of them all.

Zuko had so desperately wanted to do right by his father. He wanted a place in his home, he wanted his birthright. He wanted his father's approval.

So he told his father about her healing and the spirit water which fully prepared them for the day of black sun.

That fateful day Azula took down the brother and the blind earth bender, Zuko battled the freedom fighters and the watertribe fleets and his father took down the avatar.

The world took a drastic turn from there. The avatar had died and his warriors had no choice but to escape but they were trapped.

The Phoenix King had the navy ready to stop any of the ships. The flying bison had been wounded, the forests had their army patrolling every inch. No one would have escaped.

The entire fleet of southern water tribe warriors would have been put to death. The blind Beifong girl would have been kept as a bargaining chip against her wealthy family. The freedom fighters ,being the children they had been, would have been jailed for life. Not a single enemy would have had an outcome besides prison or death.

But then she saved them all.

Her feat of waterbending had gone down in the books as the most powerful, most impressive waterbending to ever have existed.

She hadn't been on the ships quite yet. She had been delayed and then surrounded by the palace guards, certain death awaiting her if and when she fought back. He watched from his balcony as they circled her, bow and arrow, fire and knives ready to strike. She was a mere 10 heads from the ocean, so close to an escape but it had been too late. They had her trapped and they had her entire side trapped as well. It was hopeless.

Yet she persevered.

She moved so quickly that he was amazed as she managed to avoid every little attack thrown at her and simultaneously drown the attackers.

That was her defining moment. Gone was the girl who saved the avatar , instead there stood a girl with an impossible choice. She could have escaped into the ocean, she could be free at the cost of her family or she could do the impossible and fight.

And she did choose the impossible. It was as if she called on the ocean to help her. The water rose as high as the mountains, picking up the southern watertribe fleets but sending the fire nation navy into a cold and watery grave. The water even reached the second floor of the base they had attacked. They had to replace the entire floor afterwards.

He wasn't sure what happened after as he had been called to help try to combat the destination. From what he had heard, everyone one of the resistances survivors had escaped, very few of the fire navy men had been recovered but the water bender had been subdued.

A yuhan archer had managed to strike her in the shoulder, enough to stop her from destroying the entire base. His father himself came down to imprison her.

He hadn't really kept up with her from then on. He was sure his father dealt her some great form of torture for her attack. He honestly didn't want to know.

Not even a month later and the watertribe peasant had managed to escape. The rumor was the spirits must have taken pity on her.

During the full moon every single one of the guards had fallen unconscious and she was able to get a hold of the key and like a shadow in the night, she was gone, not to be heard of ever again.

She hadn't been seen with her brother and the remaining resistance, she hadn't fled to the northern or southern poles and there had been no sign of her in the fire nation colonies or smaller villages.

She had vanished.

He honestly believed maybe the moon spirit had helped her take down the guards and granted her a safe passage for how else could 5 fully trained fire nation guards be taken down so easily.

Well, today he had learned exactly why.

He hadn't even given her the most miniscule of scratches and yet she had cut through the dense fabric of his robes. He hadn't been prepared for her attack and had no time to don his reinforced leather armor. She had appeared out of nowhere and had taken down his airship with a sharp disc of ice , taken his men down with more ice and then she had gone after him.

She chased him into the grassland and even as her water ran out it was like she pulled it out of the air and out of the grass.

He had finally surrounded her in flames, the air had dried out the grass was blazing. He had her and soon she would be taken down and he would be on his way to assist his father in the attack being led by her brother.

He didn't know she had returned. He honestly wasn't sure if anyone, even her people, knew. No one was supposed to know his location. he was supposed to help his father by being the wildcard.

He was finally supposed to impress him. Show him thay he was fit for the throne. Azula was dead, the Phoenix King had no choice. This was Zukos moment.

His fire was a breath away from taking her down, he knew she could feel the blistering heat as it got closer and closer to her. He would deal this blow and all would be forgiven.

He should have known better. No one knew how the woman had escaped. No one knew what she was truly capable of. How she did what she did.

Now he did.

As his knees fell to the floor and his free arm jerked behind him and his flame went out.

He had no control over his own body anymore and it felt like torture.

“What are you doing?” he managed to say. “Peasant.”

She smirked.

In the past seven years she had grown to be even more beautiful than before but also more terrifying. Her bright blue eyes now where so cold and icy, it made him shiver.

“Restoring balance,” she said as she somehow managed to make it even worse for him.

He began seeing black spots, the world was spinning around him telling him he would soon be an unconscious heap on the ground, even more vulnerable to the warerbender than before.

“What are you going to do me?” he gargled, his throat feeling like it was constricted.

“Taking you with me,” she said to him. “It's time to fix this world and without the avatar, I've decided it's up to me and you are going to help. Rest up, we have a lot to do.”

With that the world went fully black and the last thing he swore he saw agni himself nodding at her in approval .

#zutara #atla katara #atla zuko #fanfiction #atla fanart #atla fanfic #zutara fanfiction #zutara fanart

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kvetchlandia · 2 years ago

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Uncredited Photographer Screenwriter Alvah Bessie While Volunteering as an Anti-fascist Fighter in the Abraham Lincoln Battalion in the Spanish Civil War, Spain 1938

Alvah Bessie fought as an anti-fascist volunteer against Franco ‘s fascists in the Spanish Civil War. He was nominated for an Academy Award in 1945 for his script for the film “Objective Burma,” however he was fired from Warner Brothers that same year on account of his open support for striking studio workers. In 1947, he was called to testify before the despicable House Un-American Activities Committee; He and 9 others refused to cooperate with HUAC, becoming the famous Hollywood 10. Each of them was sentenced to 1 year in prison, although they had not been accused of any criminal activity. Bessie served his entire prison term, refusing to knuckle under. When he was released, he was blacklisted and unable to secure work in Hollywood. Despite his screenwriting success, he never worked in Hollywood again. After his blacklisting, he moved to San Francisco, where he was employed by the International Longshore and Warehouse Union as an editor for their newspaper. He also worked at the famous Hungry I club, where Lenny Bruce, Mort Sahl and Tom Lehrer all got started.

Remember their names: Gabriel Peri and Lucien Sampaix. They died in Paris before a Nazi firing squad, but their words will never die.

Who were these men?

Peri, foreign editor of L’Humanité; member of the Chamber of Deputies, elected by his people; vice president of that Chamber’s Foreign Affairs Commission; contributor to this magazine. He was arrested in Paris (remember that), on May 21 of this year just past, in the home of a friend. This was long, long after the French Communist Party had been run underground by its own government. (Remember that he was arrested in Paris.)

Lucien Sampaix, writer for L’Humanité and Ce Soir, the man who more than any other single individual was responsible for the exposure of Les Cagoulards—the French counterpart of our Ku KIux Klan, our Black Legion, our secret fascists and appeasers who sit in high places. General Weygand is a member of Les Cagoulards. Petain is such another. These are the men who sold out the great French nation to the Nazis.

These facts tell nothing of these men. There are no words now that can tell anything of these men. Betrayed by their government that they tried to warn, they were handed over by their own government to their nation’s enemies, and done to death.

They were not alone in their death; that day ninety-eight other innocent people went with them, as hundreds had gone before them. To “punish” the French people for resisting their oppressors, their enemies, their murderers! Never—except in our time—have words been put to such base usage. Never— except in our time—has such hatred been sown in the hearts of men. Never—except in our time—has such widespread determination existed in every segment of the world’s population—determination to see that we are done with fascism forever.

These men were writers; they used their knowledge, their living words, in defense of their fellow men; they used their native language to defend the people everywhere against their enemy—fascism. Every writer feels their loss. Every honest human being, writer or reader, scholar or illiterate, will feel their loss, even though their names are still unknown to multitudes.

In Spain we read their words, translated from French into our Spanish newspapers. We knew they were on guard for our liberties, our lives; for the lives and liberties of the Spanish people who were fighting. We knew they had counterparts all over the world who would not hesitate to speak out—day or night, and at peril of their very lives—in our interests, in the interests of those who work for a living all over the world. Honest writers are heroes; it has always been that way. And these men, these writers, these heroes, have lost their very lives because they did not hesitate to write the truth.

That is a hard thing to swallow. That is a hard thing to forget. We will not forget it. For just as we know that the people’s writers are soldiers; that the courage of their pens Gabriel Peri should rival the courage of men’s guns everywhere men fight today for liberty—in the Philippines, in Libya and on the Eastern Front and inside Europe—so we have also learned something else. We know that just as there were hooded men in France who watched and bode their time, and read with fear each word that Gabriel Peri wrote, each word that Lucien Sampaix wrote; we know that in Great Britain, in America, all over, there are also hooded men who read our words with fear. Who wait. And you do not have to be a writer, either. Nor do you have to be a Communist. You have merely to be a democrat, a union man, a fighter—to fight with word or action against the secret fascists, against the hooded men, against the appeasers of the fascists and the outright traitors—to have them list your name. To have them deliver you, if they get the chance; into the hands of the people’s executioners.

We cannot give them that chance. We will not give them the chance. The men on Wake Island knew that fact; they died for it. The men on Luzon, in Singapore, and around Bengazi and Orel—they know that fact. They fight with guns; we fight, at home, with words, with lathes and drop-hammers, with pennies, nickels, dimes. So that the hooded men do not frighten us, writers, “non-combatants,” civilians, any more than they frighten the people in Paris who hear the echoes of the firing squad. But we will not forget them.

To Gabriel Peri, to Lucien Sampaix, writers, Frenchmen, democrats, and heroes of the people, we can say what we said in Spain. And say it now with even more conviction, with even more assurance:

Compañeros—Salud! y Victoria!

- Alvah Bessie, “Heroes of the Pen” 1943

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unhallowedrp · 3 months ago

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OUR FACTIONS.

The remaining factions we have, as well as the developing groups up for adoption for members to build onto!

05. GREENSVILLE PRISON.

The Greenville prison group was a naturally forming community within the prison, headed by older prisoners, surviving guards, and visitors that were stuck during their lockdown. What was once a means to keep them inside became a haven of protection, the prisoners reconstituting their fences with further defenses, including large car barricades, spikes, and rotating guards to keep the perimeter clear of any infected that stray too close. The hierarchy of the prison mirrors what was already established, with the leaders proven to be 'strong' by their peers. Typically reserved for those that have been inside the prison for even longer than the outbreak, decisions are not quite democratic but do concern the wider prison community. They may be discussed as a community but ultimately what is decided falls upon those in charge. Entry into the prison by outsiders is minimal, and visitors heavily scrutinized. Though they do not label themselves as raiders, the prison's relationship with surrounding established communities remains wire thin and ever-changing. They've managed to hold their ground, using what farmland they've grown as a weapon to sway other groups into submission via trade. However, the prison group is known to strike raids on lesser factions or those that tempt their ire. They are formidable opponents and are not known for their mercy. CULTURE. . . Members of the prison community are expected to contribute to the wider group. Those unable to do so are tossed out as they believe useless hands are a death sentence. Their repeating motto is everyone's got a job to do and often times the least desired or more difficult jobs are rotated. In doing this, a majority of the prison members are fully capable of honing (and often do) several useful skills. Farming, cooking, weaponsmithing, guarding, etc, almost everyone inside can prove themselves proficient. Prison members are also expected to keep the prison up to standards and learn how to use a weapon for basic defense. Leadership is earned, not voted or chosen. Challenges are not unheard of, and occasionally they can be fights to the death. Not all are as dramatic, with some gaining power through connections and incredible deeds that earn them respect and reputation with other leaders. Strength is valued in all sense of the word. OCCUPATION IDEAS. . . leadership, guard, cook, farmer, medic, scout, raiding party, cell block management, cleaner.

06. THE SALTWATER COWBOYS.

Original inhabitants of Assateague Island (and/or Chincoteague Island), the Saltwater Cowboys were established generations before the infection took hold and were known for decades to be responsible for the island's wild horse population, for monitoring on-island events, for tackling fires and for the upkeep of a few cattle ranches. Many had spent years - if not their entire lives - on the island and, intimately acquainted with every inhabitant, port and corner, the Saltwater Cowboys mobilised when word of the outbreak reached them, island inhabitants looking to them for safety and direction. Uniting with the remains of the National Park Service and rallying able members of the island, they were responsible for the closure and patrol of its borders and docks, as well as the systematic sweeping of and elimination of infected within their community. Outsiders were killed on sight and supplies island-wide seized and carefully rationed. For their efforts, Assateague Island became one of the few places in Virginia that could boast little to no threat of infection. Their success saw them through years with relatively few incidents and the Saltwater Cowboys' strict no one in, no one out policy has remained firmly in place- until recently. Supplies are dwindling, and rationing cannot stretch them forever, the question beginning to be raised as to how long they'll be trapped here and whether they've doomed themselves in isolating themselves from the rest of the world. Recently, the island's dwindling supplies and strict organisation bore a group of Saltwater Cowboy dissidents - now known as the Trailmen - who took off inland with more than half of the remaining supplies, the stocks left more meagre than many dare address out loud. Desperation is mounting, conflict brewing in the underbelly of the Island; it is up to the Saltwater Cowboys to secure new avenues of trade .. or worse. They've done terrible things in the name of survival. They can do it again if they have to. CULTURE. . . Firm communal isolationists who have only recently begun to question whether or not to open their borders to outsiders. The Saltwater Cowboys - together with inhabitants of the island and stragglers from the National Park Service - still put a heavy focus on community, on helping one's fellow man, in doing what one can for the whole. Though the cattle herds are beginning to dwindle, the ranches are still dutifully maintained. Likewise, the Saltwater Cowboys have made use of native wild horse populations; catching and breaking a horse to use as a mount is considered essential for each member. Owning multiple has fallen out of fashion, considered wasteful, an unnecessary drain on resources. Subsequently, a Saltwater Cowboy's horse is oft among their most prized possessions. There are few formally stated roles and, instead, a Saltwater Cowboy is expected to do what is required of them in the moment, including counting and handing out supplies, tending the horses and/or cattle, patrolling the island, guarding the docks, dispatching infected, manning the lighthouse, repairing fences and buildings, establishing new defences, keeping watch, etc. The Saltwater Cowboys used to dispose of the infected by throwing them into the ocean. This practice has since been forbidden, as Swellers have begun to wash up on the island's shores. Now, they favour burning their dead. OCCUPATION IDEAS . . . Cattle ranchers, handymen, firemen / fire station volunteers, farriers, construction workers, veterinarians, etc.

07. THE TRAILMEN.

Derived originally of the Saltwater Cowboys, the Trailmen began as a whisper of dissatisfaction and disillusionment as Assateague Island's supplies dwindled beyond comfort, the growing desperation seized by an opportunist and used a a foundation for dissent. Ember grew to spark and in turn to flame; those beginning to question the leader of the Saltwater Cowboys - Sawyer Cassidy - and his methods rallied silently, plans kept internal, with the unofficial figurehead Valentin preaching on freedom, on sustainability, on staying here being to live a life in purgatory. One day they were Assateague Island inhabitants, dispatching the infected washed up along its shores and patrolling the borders, and the next they'd packed more than half of the remaining supplies, mounted up and made for Virginia's Eastern coast, leaving the island and her unblinking lighthouse behind. What they found was the Old Dominion. Danger, yes, learning the infected new, given their limited exposure- but the Old Dominion, its open air and endless trails, the dregs of civilisation still alive in its corners. The life they've established is a nomadic one, rarely in one place for long - travelling back and forth along the Appalachian Trail and the checkpoints they've established. Outlaws above all else, cowboy hats and all, they occasionally trade but make more a habit of raiding and looting, more than happy to take advantage of and ransack any campsite or cabin left uninhabited, rough and ready, clearing the trails of infected as they go. They do not hesitate to kill for their own. They're not particularly keen on outsiders but, in direct spite of the ideals of the Saltwater Cowboys, do allow new members to join from time-to-time, provided that prospective member is able to prove themselves a good (useful) fit. CULTURE. . . The Trailmen prize freedom and spirit above all else, putting a strong emphasis on individualism. Many condemn industrialization, blaming it - and a disconnect or disrespect for nature - as the lead cause of the infection, subsequently condemning wider civilisation. They live nomadically and prefer to camp in open air than to squirrel themselves away in the remains of buildings. Indulgence takes something of a front seat; the strict rationing of Assateague Island has left many of the original Trailmen with a real distaste for enforced moderation, and are largely free to do as they please, provided they stay devoted to one another. Like the Saltwater Cowboys, a heavy focus is placed on the Trailmen's owning of horses; they're used both as mounts and as pack animals, allowing the Trailmen to cover great distances quickly. A man is nothing without his horse.

BONUS: OUR DEVELOPING GROUPS UP FOR ADOPTION IN GAME. Please note members will not be allowed to make a faction of their own for their first character, and must purchase the ability to create a group through our points shop. For those interested in their own group, we have provided a few developing groups for adoption!

#site buzz #apocalypse rp #jcink buzz #queued.#preview #setting preview

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reasoningdaily · 1 year ago

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click the header to see the entire photoset, which explains what happened on which days and why.

One of the many guards beaten by inmates on the first day of the riots is loaded into an ambulance by New York State Police troopers and local police.This is a part of americas bloody history that they want to quietly disappear.

AMERICA YOU DID THIS..

Inmates raise their fists in solidarity while one of their leaders speaks with Commissioner of Corrections Russell Oswald on September 10, 1971.

A debris-riddled corridor in one of the four Attica cell blocks is littered with shattered glass and broken equipment on the second day of the riot.

Black Panther Party co-founder Bobby Seale (second from left) arriving at the Greater Buffalo International Airport on September 11, 1971. After meeting with Attica inmates, he proposed accepting the deal put forth by the Commissioner of Corrections — which would have granted the prisoners 28 of their 33 demands.

Heavily armed authorities position themselves on a platform overlooking Attica's D Yard — which had become the main stronghold of the 1,281 rioting inmates.

Inmates had drawn up a manifesto listing 33 demands, from better living conditions to amnesty for the uprising. They elected five prisoners to serve as leaders with negotiating powers, while many others were instructed to work as security or medics. Here, they express solidarity during the negotiation process.

This makeshift hospital station was one of the internal services that prisoners set up during the riot. These services would be widely documented by journalists who were invited into the prison to oversee the uprising.

Inmates barricading themselves in one of the corridors leading to cell block D on September 10, 1971. They had just finished discussions with correctional officers regarding the terms of their impending negotiations. The figure in black standing in the center was one of the television cameramen that inmates allowed into the prison to document events.

National Guardsmen donning gas masks as they prepare to storm the facility on September 13, 1971. Protected from the tear gas that had been delivered via helicopter, they would brazenly open fire on both inmates and hostages in the yard.

One of the military helicopters flying over the prison's D Yard to deploy tear gas. Moments later, hundreds of troops, officers, and guards would storm the prison, firing off rounds with abandon — and killing 10 of their own men in the process.

The immediate aftermath of the riots saw inmates stripped of their clothes and forced to stand with their hands above their heads. A week after the riot had ended, inmates were allegedly beaten by the guards. The McKay Commission used this image during their four-day hearings on the fiasco

The charred hat of an Attica prison guard — and a bullet hole in the railing enclosing the D Yard.

#33 Pictures Of The Bloody Attica Prison Riot That Left 43 People Dead #attica prison massacre #attica prison #ny #rockerfeller #prison rights #prison and corrections in america #human rights

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brusinsky · 1 month ago

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Gloria Victis - Intro

„The Birth of Révolution”

The storming of Nitencier, the accursed prison of the king and oppressor of Terranoble, marked the dawn of the Era of Revolution and Reason. From the blood of guards, revolutionaries, and prisoners alike, the Révolution was born into this world.

Battles of a scale unfathomable even to the cruelest sadists of the Dark Ages, were waged both against and in the name of the Révolution. Blood and mud drenched millions of colorful uniforms as their wearers fell, one after another, into the embrace of the Most Holy Goddess Deli. The cruel cannons of the Révolution brought freedom, equality, fraternity and Death to the domains of monarchs who once seemed all-powerful. The finely groomed rulers of yesterday fled from their subjects’ thirst for blue blood, like chickens with their heads cleaved off by La Guillotine.

„ Masqué and the Cult of Reason”

The unstoppable march of the Grande Armée, led by its enigmatic prophet – the Masked One – liberated peoples and annihilated nations across the continent. From the blood-soaked beaches of Mallademont to the frozen steppes of Zemnashkov, the armies of once-gracious rulers were decimated, their banners falling one by one at the feet of the man called a demon from the deepest abyss of Nitencier.

Masqué’s new world order carried with it not only the promise of equality among men but also the eradication of the supernatural. Deemed an obstacle to the advancement of their cruel God – Mankind, the supernatural was to be led down the path of the dodo, by the newly born Cult of Reason. Hundreds of supernatural species of animals and plants were banished to the pages of biology textbooks, never to return. Even the noble dragons, once capable of threatening entire civilizations with their might, could not escape the roar of cannons.

However, the so-called Crusade of Normalcy – its name a mockery that fails to conceal its barbarity – did not end in a complete success. Despite the most determined efforts to sever Nature’s parasitic twin, shattered remnants of the otherworldly are slowly creeping back from their exile into the darkest of forests, reclaiming their place in villages and towns.

„The End of Revolution and Reason”

The great era of enlightenment and ignorance stubbornly refused to die. Even as the crippled Legions of the Free Peoples fell to their knees before the relentless frost of Zemnashkov, it clung on. It did not perish with the Old Guard of the Masked One during their final, desperate charge, nor did it fade away with the Masqué himself during his second and final exile. Despite the efforts of restored monarchs divvying up their spoils at the Floating Congress, the era persisted, lingering even through the tumult of the People’s Spring, when the human cattle briefly awoke, only to sink back into a deep slumber.

No, the stubborn era of Revolution and Reason was brought to an end by a single shot, fired into the heavens from a glass cannon mounted atop the University of Nashland in Bożarów, the decaying capital of a fallen state. That shot, and its ensuing roar, heralded the beginning of the years of Confusion and Longing that have yet to pass.

„Hubris”

The cannonball, intended to demonstrate the ingenuity of the professors of the Free Republic of Bożarów – a absurd parody of Nashland, a carcass-state devoured a century ago by vultures masquerading as neighbors – failed miserably in its sole mission. Fired from humanity’s most advanced and terrifying weapon, hoped in vain to deter the vultures still circling the last vestige of Nashlandian statehood.

Instead of following its carefully calculated trajectory and landing back on Earth, this projectile cruelly mocked its creators by opening a wound in the Heavens. To this day, as if laughing at human naivety that sought to confine the universe within a cage of meaning and logic, a narrow stream of blood from the wounded Sky trickles drop by drop onto the decrepit village of Jerzmanowice, mocking the loud protests of scholars.

Intro to the TTRPG I'm making. I want to also write a short one page (or something like that) that would give off the vibe of the setting.

Hopefully this doesn't suck.

#writing #indie ttrpg #tabletop rpg #ttrpg #i'm a writer #writers on tumblr

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sokkastyles · 1 year ago

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Just saw this take which was like "People will excuse Zuko for making Azula face Ozai, her abuser, but will then blame Azula for taking Zuko back to the Fire Nation and his abuser. If you want to say that Zuko was not abusing Azula and was being nice to her by doing that, you have to say the same for Azula, since she did what she did for Zuko because she cared for him." This is paraphrased, but it's the jist of it. What do you think?

And since we're on the subject, do you think Azula taking Zuko back was in any way because she cared for him? You probably have addressed this before, but I'd love to get your thoughts on the topic.

I'm assuming by "making Azula face Ozai" they are talking about in the Search? Like I said on that ask about it, Zuko didn't make her, she agreed to it and lied to Zuko about her motivation for doing so.

There's also an entire world of difference between those two things and the difference is power. When Zuko goes back to the Fire Nation, he is at Ozai's mercy. Plus the fact that everyone around him, and chiefly Azula, is telling him that this is fine, that he has no reason to be afraid of his father and that if he was hurt before, it was because he deserved it.

When Zuko takes Azula to talk to Ozai, it's through prison bars. Azula doesn't realize the truth about her father but Zuko does, and there are also guards around that are closely watching both of them. This is completely different from Azula taking Zuko back to the palace where Ozai has free access to him and then telling him that this is normal and that he has nothing to worry about, and if he is worried it's his own fault. It's Azula who gets Zuko to let her be alone with their father, which Zuko was reluctant to do.

I have addressed this before and I really don't see any evidence that she took him back out of caring, when there are plenty of other reasons the show gives us that we can point to, but I've also said that even if she thought she was being caring, she still isn't. She doesn't care that Zuko is scared that he won't be forgiven by Ozai. She doesn't care that she's separating him from an adult who does care for him. In fact, that's something she specifically aimed to do was separate him from Iroh, because she knew from before that Iroh would foil any attempts she made to manipulate Zuko. She doesn't care that regardless of whether Ozai restores Zuko's honor or not, she is putting him in very real danger, and she doesn't care that she's also further putting him in danger by lying to Ozai about what happened in Ba Sing Se and not letting Zuko find out from Ozai that she lied. Not only does she not care, she knows exactly what she is doing, because the lie to Ozai was a strategic move made so that she can make sure she has leverage over Zuko just in case.

Azula NEEDS Zuko to be in that position where he is Ozai's scapegoat in order to maintain her own position as the golden child, so of course she's aware that she's hurting Zuko by doing these things. That's what she wants. I think she believes that she doesn't need to care about Zuko because that's how she was raised, but that's quite common in cases of abuse, especially in cases where an abusive parent ropes other children in the household into participating into the scapegoat's abuse.

When Zuko takes Azula to see Ozai, that dynamic is completely absent. Zuko doesn't want to control Azula, he wants to get information about his mother. He also clearly cares about her because he says several times that he wants her to be comfortable and to have dignity, he listens to her when she asks for things from him (even when he shouldn't), and he protests when Ty Lee chi blocks her (even though she was protecting him).

What Azula does for Zuko, in comparison, is insult him and threaten him, all while telling him that she knows what's good for him.

The difference between Zuko's caring and Azula's "caring" is that Zuko constantly feels guilty for Azula's discomfort and gives in when she manipulates him into giving her more freedom, and gets hurt in the process. When Azula "cares" for Zuko, he's still the one who ends up getting hurt and the one feeling guilty. That's one of the biggest signs that it's abuse, and that Azula is the abuser. That Zuko is always the one being hurt, the one who feels guilty, while Azula is the one telling her brother that she knows best.

#zuko #azula #abuse cw

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theowritesfiction · 2 years ago

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‘The Boiling Rock, Part 2’

I honestly can't believe that after startling Suki in his Fire Nation guard uniform, Sokka does the same to his dad. Sometimes I just don't know what's going on in Sokka's head.

The Maiko confrontation was really good, because it's one of those really well written scenes where I can totally see both sides of the argument. Zuko and Mai are both right and have valid reasons to feel the way they do. Nobody's getting any Jerk Points because of how well this is written. Also, Mai's anger also makes me think about her decision at the end of the episode, and her and Zuko's reunion in the finale. And honestly... I think if Book 4 had happened, the rushed Maiko reunion at the end of Book 3 wouldn't happen. I think they would have taken more time to get back together... if it even happened.

I actually like the prison riot + escaping on the gondola + taking Warden as captive plan! Hakoda helping with it sure helped, but there's still one issue. Gondola only gets you across the lake of steam, right? How do you get off the island, swim?

I have to give props to Chit-Sang for being a pretty awesome guy. Cracking under torture is nothing to be ashamed of. And he knows how to start a prison riot.

'I'm a people person.' the way Azula says it... I love this girl. <3 In this one simple episode Azula demonstrates that she is and never will be a torturer for one simple reason - she does not have to be. That is for incompetent and stupid brutes like the Warden.

But yeah, Suki capturing the Warden... that's one way to impress your future father in law I guess! Well done...

I really want to know what was going through Azula's head when she showed up and gave the gondola that long stare. She definitely meant business more than ever before. Also, if not for the incoming betrayal, watching Azula and Ty Lee chase the captives together would make me consider it as a Tyzula moment. There's also no love lost between Suki and Ty Lee. How is Suki immediately fine with Ty Lee becoming a Kyoshi Warrior in the finale? Also, my first ever ATLA fanfic had Suki/Ty Lee ship, and I think I was totally right to go for it.

Then we have this exchange:

Suki: (glaring at Ty Lee) This is a re-match I've been waiting for.

Zuko: (looking at Azula) Me too.

Excuse me... re-match of WHAT exactly? Azula being super nice to you throughout Book 3? I didn't expect to give anyone Jerk Points in this episode, but you know what? 40 more to Zuzu.

Also, this entire escape plan only works because Azula came to the island in her war balloon. So as I said previously... still kind of a dumb plan that only worked because of sheer luck?

Damn, I'm not going to talk about that betrayal scene, I'm certainly not going to hand out any Jerk Points for it, I'm just feeling very depressed because how terrible and traumatizing that was for everyone involved.

Jerk Points for Book 3:

Zuko - 700 Aang – 280 Ozai - 250 Sokka - 110 Roku - 100 Hide - 80 King Kuei - 60 Toph - 50 Haru - 30

Okay, 6 episodes to go and Zuko's Book 3 lead looks unassailable. I love how unredeemed Zuko had way less Jerk Points...

#my atla rewatch #atla book 3 #the boiling rock

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mica949 · 1 year ago

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(These headcanons are mostly the idea of @howlerlight, please show them some love!)

I’m in the process of making an avatar the last airbender AU. This is what I have so far.

Henry Stickmin

He lived a relatively basic life in a children’s home until the avatar’s identity was revealed. Due to an unfortunate spelling mistake, very quickly the fire nation (and a considerable amount of earth kingdom generals) began causing problems for him and everyone around him. He left the children’s home at age 16 and began a life of petty crime—intimidating others with his “avatar powers” to get what he wanted. In reality he can’t bend at all, but he’s invented a few tricks that make it kind of look like he can bend.

Ellie Rose

Born and raised in the fire nation. She realized the wrongs of her people pretty young, and swore to do something about it. As an adult she got involved with a group of revolutionaries in Caldera City, stealing from the rich and making plots to take down important generals. A conspiracy to overthrow the firelord left her in the boiling rock. She’s a firebender, and a pretty solid one, though her skill is mainly in weapons. She is remarkable with a sword. If she teams up with Henry, she becomes a reliable asset that either enables him to commit heists or go on chaotic adventures with Charles.

Charles Calvin

He was born in the Earth Kingdom, but is an airbender from a rare combination of genes from the now gone air nomads. At age 5 he was sent away from home to Omashu, where he and others who airbend were taught of their lost culture and encouraged to hone their skills. He was one of the youngest to master airbending at only 14, with the tattoos to show it. The Earth Kingdom, not knowing the fire nation’s technology for hot air balloons, has him and the few other fully trained airbenders using their air to steer a new kind of flying machine. Despite officially working with the Earth Kingdom, he is still more loyal to fellow airbenders than them.

Rupert Price

An officer working in a small Earth Kingdom town. He is an earthbender, but doesn’t do much with it due to not much crime happening. After taking a minor criminal for prisoner (and proving that, no, he’s not the avatar, he just has a similar name), his life changes for the worse. He gets attacked, gets transferred, and then his close friend (?) gets kidnapped a week later. Rupert figures Dave was captured by the fire nation and joins the military. Instead of fighting the fire nation like he wanted he gets assigned to fight a crime organization due to a particularly revenge-driven captain. He’s in no position to complain, though.

Dave Panpa

A nonbender, but his childhood friend Rupert Price got him a job as an officer for their little town due to skill with a spear. Due to allowing a package to go to a criminal without properly checking it, he was fired. He managed to get another job as a guard for the mayor— but he couldn’t do anything before that same criminal had stolen the mayor’s jewels. Somehow or another, around this time, he was captured by the Toppat Clan. He now is a prisoner on part of the air fleet.

Reginald Copperbottom

Though he was born in the fire nation, an unfortunate ancestry that skipped a few generations gave him airbending. His parents did their best to keep this secret, but just as he gained control over his bending, they were killed by bandits. He was then sent to a children’s home, where he spent the rest of his childhood under harsh eyes before growing up and beginning a life of minor crime. Terrence from the Toppat Clan took him in and got him involved with the clan. A long series of events led to him becoming leader and getting a right hand man. His bending is entirely self taught, and he only knows a couple moves. It’s enough to save him from most life threatening situations. He established the clan’s air fleet from captured fire nation airships, and nearly caused them to stop making them entirely to prevent capture.

Right Hand Man

Born and raised in the Earth Kingdom, he’s a prodigy in earthbending. He was involved in fighting rings for a long time before the then chief Sir Wilford took interest in him and offered him a place in the Toppat Clan. Once while captured he invented metalbending, and immediately started work to become proficient in that. He can bust out of almost any prison, now. He’s the right hand man of the chief Reginald Copperbottom, and fiercely loyal. After being defeated by Henry, he gets metal prosthetics that he can bend in order to move them.

#the henry stickmin collection #thsc #henry stickmin #reginald copperbottom #charles calvin #right hand man #thsc rhm #dave panpa #ellie rose #rupert price #henry the not even an airbender

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bard-llama · 2 years ago

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WiP Wednesday: AU where Zuko got captured on the Day of Black Sun after confronting his father

I’ve decided I’m gonna try my hand at aaaaaaaall the tropes I love, so this one is my version of “the Gaang defeats Ozai and comes to the FN to find Fire Lord Zuko, who was crowned after being dragged from his prison cell as the last legitimate heir” kind of story.

The Avatar’s arrival was not unanticipated. Still, for the first time since Zuko had been released from the windowless hole beneath the palace, he wished that it was someone else’s problem. He wished that he could just close his eyes and go to sleep and not have to deal with being anything more than a punching bag for his father.

It hadn’t been a fun role to play, but at least he’d understood what was expected of him there. Now… now he was apparently Fire Lord and everyone wanted him to suddenly make all the decisions even though he’d spent three months without being allowed basic autonomy.

The adjustment was not easy. Especially not when a harried-looking servant barged into his office with deep bows and breathless warnings that the Avatar had arrived.

The Avatar was here and Zuko was expected to do something about it. He wasn’t really sure what, but he was supposed to do something.

He’d spent three years of his life obsessively chasing the Avatar in order to make his father proud. In comparison, the three months he’d spent in prison had almost been restful. But they had been enough to convince him that he no longer wanted to make his father proud.

There wasn’t any reason to chase the Avatar anymore. If he was here, then Father was obviously defeated. Which Zuko had known, but it still didn’t really seem real. It was the only reason he’d been crowned – and yet, it was still difficult to believe that any being, even the Avatar, could have the power to defeat Father.

It was difficult to believe that his Father could continue to breathe without his bending. Never again would he burn Zuko, at least not as easily. Father had entirely defined himself with his bending – and now it was gone.

Was it Zuko’s turn to experience that horror?

If so, the Avatar was a little late. Zuko had been kept deep underground, out of the sun, for three months. He’d heard of prisoners going longer and not losing their connection to the sun – but Zuko had felt it when that connection snapped. It had felt like something had reached inside him and ripped out his soul. He hadn’t managed to feel warm ever since then, even though he could now get all the sun he wanted. It never warmed him quite the way it should, not since that awful morning when everything had just broken.

Three days later, the Fire Sages had fetched him from the prison and crowned him Fire Lord. Three days. If Father had been defeated just three days earlier…

Zuko was coming to believe that the number three was cursed. He’d been thirteen when his father had burned off half his face and banished him, never expecting him to return. He’d spent three years doing everything within his power to get back to the man who had melted his face. Then, when he finally realized that Father had been wrong, he’d spent three months in a cell without the sun.

He hadn’t been strong enough to last a simple three days more. That alone said enough. He hadn’t been strong enough and he’d lost his fire, and the Fire Nation couldn’t have a Fire Lord who didn’t have fire, no matter what the Sages seemed to think.

So far, no one had noticed that Zuko hadn’t bended at all since his release. Since his coronation. No one had said a word about how unfitting he was to be Fire Lord.

But he hadn’t been quiet when his connection to the sun had been severed. He knew for certain that the guards had overheard him screaming about not being able to feel the sun.

There was no reason for any of them to think that had changed, but he didn’t want to rub their faces in the truth. Zuko had lost his bending. Fire no longer moved to his whims and it ached like something physical in his chest had been removed.

But for whatever reason, people were allowing Zuko to be Fire Lord. In fairness, there was literally no one else. Father had been defeated. Azula had been captured. Uncle had reportedly helped the Avatar’s group capture Azula, which made him technically a traitor to the crown. Even if he weren’t, he wasn’t here. The Fire Nation was floundering in the power vacuum that Fire Lord Ozai had left behind and someone had to make sure they came out of this intact. Zuko wasn’t worthy of this, didn’t deserve this – but he was here. What else could he do? He couldn’t let his people down, not again.

So he was Fire Lord. And now the Avatar had come calling at the Fire Nation palace.

Zuko swallowed hard. “Have they attacked?”

“No, Your Majesty,” the servant – Zuko knew he should know her name, but he couldn’t quite remember. Ayumi, perhaps? – shook her head. “They’ve stated that they – that they want to talk.”

“Ah. Negotiations,” Zuko nodded knowledgeably as though he was at all equipped to deal with this. But if the Avatar was here… “is – is my Uncle with them?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. General Iroh has claimed that the Avatar is truly just here to talk. I – I don’t know whether…” she trailed off, uncertain of how to say that she couldn’t tell if Uncle was lying.

Zuko took a deep breath. It was fine. He’d known this was coming. He could – he could deal with this. It would be fine.

“Escort the Avatar and his companions to the western tea room,” Zuko decided. Maybe tea would delay the inevitable. At the very least, it might give Zuko a chance to apologize to his Uncle. Uncle deserved that.

If Zuko could actually force the words past his lips.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” the servant bowed and excused herself.

Zuko sighed. He would wait a while before heading over to the tea room. It would be best if he didn’t give the appearance of lying in wait for them. Besides, he had plenty of paperwork to occupy himself with while he waited.

He hadn’t realized how absorbed he’d gotten until that same servant – he was feeling more confident that her name might be Ayumi – knocked on the door to his office and notified him that his guests were waiting for him.

“Fuck,” Zuko swore under his breath. Ayumi kindly pretended not to hear the uncouth display.

He rose quickly, scrambling towards the door. What a great first impression he must be making on his guests. Did it count as a first impression when they already knew him? Was this better or worse than his actual first impression?

Outside the tea room, he paused, straightening his crown and smoothing out his robes. It wouldn’t do to look unfitting of the title he was already unworthy of. It wouldn’t do to disrespect the office of the Fire Lord further than he already was by claiming that title.

Before he’d been imprisoned, he’d told his father that he was going to join the Avatar. The Avatar, of course, had no way of knowing that. As far as he was concerned, Zuko was the same monster who had chased him across the globe.

And he was, wasn’t he? It wasn’t as though prison had truly changed him. Yes, he’d realized that his father sucked (so much), but that didn’t change that he’d done everything possible to earn his father’s love. He’d still chased the Avatar from one end of the earth to the other and hadn’t cared who else got hurt along the way. A broken promise to his father that he was going to set things right wasn’t enough to actually do so. Zuko knew that. He knew he didn’t deserve forgiveness from the Avatar. He knew he didn’t deserve Uncle’s forgiveness.

Nonetheless, he really didn’t want to go inside and face the music.

He did anyway, because he was Fire Lord and maybe he was terrible at it, but that didn’t mean it would be acceptable to cower from the Avatar or from the Dragon of the West. No, he would face his punishment with honor and dignity.

…not that he had much of either of those left. Not after three months in prison, not after the things he’d done in this Father’s name.

Zuko shook his head, taking a final deep breath and walking into the tea room where the Avatar and his friends sat with Uncle.

––

Toph could admit to being a little annoyed. Firstly, she’d been expecting to bust heads when they arrived at the Fire Palace. She’d been looking forward to busting heads. She wanted to get these soldiers back for how fucking scared she’d been on the day of Sozin’s Comet, when they all almost died more than once.

Toph Beifong didn’t do scared. So she would make someone pay for this feeling and then it would be better.

Except Uncle and Aang were both insistent that they needed to try talking first, if they had any hope of building diplomatic relations with the Fire Nation in the future.

Katara had muttered something unkind under her breath at that and honestly, Toph couldn’t blame her. The Fire Nation may not all be bad – those kids they’d had a dance party with had been all right, and those people starving in that awful town on the river where she couldn’t see anything had been okay – but that didn’t mean she wanted to think about diplomatic relationships.

The war had just been forcibly ended by the Avatar. There was no diplomacy needed. Either the Fire Lord stepped into line – or he would be dealt with, either by them or by the Earth Kingdom or by the Water Tribes. The war was over. Period. Toph hadn’t metalbended entire war balloons for it not to be over.

So the Fire Lord would get with the program or they would take him out. Even if Uncle and Aang were both hesitant at the idea, though for very different reasons.

But for now – for now, she supposed talking would at least tell them which heads needed to be busted. Toph would accept the delay. For now.

But that just left her time to be annoyed over the second thing that irked her – the damned Fire Palace was made of wood. She could get some vibrations through the wood – but it was nothing like her trusty earth and she missed the way earth told her all she needed to know.

It was because the palace was wood that it took her several minutes – during which they’d been left waiting for His Majesty the Fire Lord – to notice the figure standing outside the room they’d been politely escorted to. This only served to irritate Toph further, so naturally, she decided to make the wood her bitch. Maybe it wasn’t earth – but dammit, she would pick up all the fucking vibrations that she could out of it, because this was the Fire Nation Royal Palace and they’d just taken out two of the royal family and were ready for a third. She had to be able to sense an attack coming before it happened.

But instead of doing anything interesting, the figure just stood outside the door and breathed. Really deliberate breathing, too, with long, drawn out inhales and slow exhales.

Still, Toph was ready. Which was why, when Fire Lord Zuko opened the door and stepped into the tea room, she was the only one who didn’t startle. Even Uncle seemed caught off guard, though she couldn’t imagine why.

“Uncle,” Fire Lord Zuko greeted the man he’d betrayed. The man who loved him despite that betrayal. “Avatar.”

“Zuko,” Katara spat.

Zuko… didn’t really react. Instead, he walked forward to the table and sat down some distance from the rest of them. Then he turned to a servant that had shadowed him in and politely requested a pot of jasmine tea.

Seriously, he even said please. What the fuck? Royalty didn’t say please. Nobles didn’t even say please.

They sat in silence for several long minutes during which no one seemed to know how to start the conversation. Then the servant returned and Zuko straight up thanked her.

Again, what the fuck!? Where was the angry, rude, shouty bastard that Katara and Sokka had told her about?

Then things got even weirder. Toph couldn’t sense exactly how the Fire Lord moved, but she could guess that he’d taken the tray from the servant because he then proceeded to pour them all tea.

“Is it poisoned?” Sokka asked suspiciously, as though he would just admit if it really was.

Zuko tilted his head, surprised. “No?” He’d poured them cups all out of the same pot, so to demonstrate, he took a sip of tea – and then tried very hard to hide a grimace. It was not reassuring.

Toph did not touch her tea. Uncle, the trusting idiot, did. When he didn’t drop dead minutes later, Toph allowed for the possibility that it really wasn’t poisoned.

But the lack of poison did not make this any less weird.

“So…” Fire Lord Zuko began.

“So?” Aang prompted, eagerness in his voice. Twinkletoes probably wanted to make friends. Twinkletoes always wanted to make friends, even with things that were explicitly dangerous and that had tried to kill him before.

“So,” the Fire Lord cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly. “You took my father’s bending.”

“Yeah,” Aang agreed. “He’s still alive,” he offered, as though that was a consolation for losing one’s bending.

If it were Toph, she wouldn’t want to be alive. But that was precisely what made it a fitting punishment for Ozai.

“Azula?” Zuko asked.

“She’s being held in the Earth Kingdom,” Sokka offered. He sounded like he was glaring at Zuko, which wasn’t at all a surprise.

Zuko’s head dipped in a nod. “And now you’re here for me,” he said, strangely calm. He sipped his tea as though nothing was amiss.

(Little did she know that Zuko had little reason to fear his bending being taken. You couldn’t lose what you no longer had.)

“What?” Aang sounded startled, for some reason. Even though that was the literal reason they were here – to deal with the new Fire Lord. Maybe hopefully to get Uncle instated as Fire Lord instead. Whoever the Fire Lord was, the war was over.

“You defeated Father,” Zuko said simply. “You captured Azula. Now it’s my turn.” He still sounded so weirdly unbothered that it was kind of pissing Toph off.

“Maybe it is,” she said, irritation in her tone. “You gonna fight it?”

Zuko tilted his head as though considering. “Fighting never goes well for me,” he said slowly.

Toph cocked an eyebrow, remembering all of the others’ stories about kicking this guy’s ass. Even if he relentlessly continued to follow them, it was certainly true that he had never come out on top in a fight with them. And now, with her in the fray? There was no way he could take on the Greatest Earthbender in the World.

(She had no way of knowing that Zuko wasn’t referring to fights with Aang at all.)

“So what, you surrender?” Katara said mockingly. Her hand was poised over her waterskin, clearly waiting for the opportunity to make use of it.

Zuko shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” Aang asked, sounding almost desperate. He really didn’t want to fight.

“Someone has to run the country,” Zuko shrugged as though they were discussing their lunch options. Toph couldn’t decide if she was impressed at his ballsiness or if she was annoyed that he was pulling off aloof so well.

“And that someone should obviously be Iroh, not you,” Sokka said. Rather rationally, really.

Zuko paused like the thought hadn’t occurred to him. But slowly, he nodded. “The Fire Lord must be a powerful firebender,” he said, as though that explained anything.

Toph frowned. “Did you just agree to be dethroned?”

“...do I have a choice?” Zuko asked, frown audible.

“No.” Katara said.

“Okay,” Zuko agreed. At the silence that Toph assumed was consumed with incredulous looks, Zuko shrugged. “Uncle was always supposed to be Fire Lord. If Father hadn’t murdered Grandfather–”

“Wait, what!?” half the room shrieked.

Zuko’s body language read ‘confused’. “What?”

“Zuko,” Iroh’s voice was strained, “are you certain!?”

“...maybe?” Zuko fiddled with the sleeves of his presumably fancy robes. He was Fire Lord, after all. For the moment. Toph would bet his robes were really fancy.

“You’re gonna have to say more than that,” Sokka said.

Swallowing, Zuko nodded slightly. “I never heard my father admit it,” he said, “but it makes sense.”

“How does it make sense?” Uncle demanded, surprisingly impatient. Then again, this was his brother and father they were talking about. Specifically, his brother murdering his father. Yikes.

“The day Grandfather died,” Zuko began, “Father asked for an audience. He wanted to be made heir. Grandfather was pissed. He ordered – well, that doesn’t matter. But then the next morning, Grandfather was dead and Father was named as heir in his will and–” he cut himself off.

“And?” Toph prompted.

His jaw clenched and he rocked his weight slightly back and forth where he was sitting. As though preparing for an attack. He wasn’t going to answer.

“And!?” Katara demanded.

He huffed out an annoyed breath. “And my Mother was gone. Probably after being used to assassinate the Fire Lord. Father never said whether he killed her, but…”

There was silence after that pronouncement and Toph assumed the others were all staring at him in shock. She couldn’t really blame them because what!?

“You,” Uncle’s voice was uncertain, “you believe Ozai would do such a thing?”

“You don’t!?” Zuko asked, clearly surprised.

“If he’s so horrible, then why are you on his side!?” Sokka challenged.

“What?” Zuko sounded genuinely shocked. “Oh. I guess you wouldn’t know.” He muttered the last bit under his breath, hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Or at least, Toph assumed that was what it was doing.

“Know what?” Katara’s patience was obviously running thin. Usually, Toph would revel in such a thing, but right now, it felt… precarious. As though Katara’s temper was a torch hovering over a barrel of blasting jelly.

Toph could handle the explosion, of course. But it would be better if it never happened at all.

“Um. I’m not.” Zuko said stupidly. “On his side. In any way.”

Now the silence was dubious.

“Uh, no offense,” Aang said, “but weren’t you hunting me for him?”

“Yeah,” Zuko agreed. “Things changed.”

“How so?”

Zuko’s jaw shifted mulishly. “That’s none of your business.”

“Nephew,” Uncle started and Zuko flinched. It was small, maybe small enough the others didn’t notice. But Toph sure did. What was that about?

“After all the times you tried to kill us, it’s definitely our business!” Sokka insisted.

She could practically sense Zuko’s frown. “I never tried to kill you.”

“Ha!” Katara scoffed.

“I didn’t,” Zuko said. “My orders were to capture the Avatar, not to kill him.”

Uncle said nothing and Toph didn’t know what that meant. From what she could tell, Zuko was telling the truth.

“You helped Azula kill him under Ba Sing Se!” Katara snarled.

“Ah.” Zuko winced. “Yeah, that’s fair. I fucked up. Not that that’s new,” the last bit was said under his breath and Toph wondered if anyone else had caught it.

Her brow furrowed in confusion. This new Fire Lord was weird. She didn’t like it. She didn’t like that she kind of wanted to know more, wanted him to explain what the fuck was up with him. She shouldn’t care about the guy she was probably going to need to pulverize to stop the war.

It was clear Katara had no idea what to say at his response, so Toph cleared her throat and decided to nudge them on task.

“We’re here to end the war,” she said bluntly. “If you got a problem with that, we’re gonna have to–”

“Why would it matter if I had a problem with it?” Zuko asked. “You’re removing me from power.”

“...and you’re taking it surprisingly well,” Sokka said, voice a mix of suspicious and frustrated.

Zuko shrugged and mumbled something Toph didn’t hear. Which was saying something, because Toph had good ears. All she caught was something about ‘expected’ and ‘execution’.

She frowned. Hold on. What?

“Repeat that,” she demanded.

Zuko startled. “What?”

“What you just said. Repeat it.”

“...it’s not like I wasn’t expecting this?” he said uncertainly.

“No, you said something about executions.”

That made Katara jolt, shifting so that she was in front of Aang with the cork of her waterskin popped.

“...yeah?” Zuko’s confusion didn’t sound fake. Why did that make the bottom of Toph’s stomach drop?

“You’ve been expecting execution!?”

“Well, I guess it could’ve been assassination. But you’re here, so…”

Aang froze. “Zuko,” he said suddenly. “Zuko, we’re not going to execute you!”

“Why not?” Zuko asked as though that was a normal thing to question. Uncle had gone very, very still.

“We – we’re just not!” Aang sounded distraught. “It would be wrong!”

“If you say so,” Zuko shrugged, once again sounding remarkably unbothered at the prospect of death.

“Zuko,” Uncle began, voice strained and concerned, “I will never harm you.”

The hum Zuko let out was a mix of dubious and bewildered. From Uncle’s sharp inhale, it cut to the bone.

“Zuko,” Uncle repeated, “what happened?”

“I was crowned Fire Lord,” Zuko said as though that was the only explanation needed as to why he’d expect his own Uncle to execute him.

An hour ago, Toph might not have disagreed. Now… now she found herself uncomfortable. Nothing about this guy was what she’d expected and it was putting her on edge.

“Weren’t you Crown Prince?” she asked. “Getting crowned Fire Lord was kind of expected, wasn’t it?”

Zuko laughed, an ugly, bitter thing. She wondered if it freaked the others out as much as it did her.

He didn’t explain, just shaking his head. “No. Though it took me far too long to figure that out.”

“I don’t get it,” Sokka said.

Shrugging, Zuko said simply, “I’m Fire Lord because there was literally no one else left. Believe me, nobody wants me here.”

Uncle breathing hitched. “Zuko–”

“You, though,” Zuko cut him off. “A lot of the Generals who support you were eliminated from the council by my Father, but they still have power. It should be fairly easy for you to take control.”

“You’re awfully chill about this,” Sokka frowned.

Zuko just hummed, sipping his tea. “I was never supposed to be Fire Lord,” he said bluntly. “I was never trained for this, not really. My people deserve someone competent to lead them.” He tilted his head towards Uncle.

Uncle was silent, but it was an odd silence. Almost a sad silence. Toph didn’t like it.

“So that’s it? You’re stepping down and Uncle is Fire Lord now?”

Zuko flinched slightly at ‘Uncle’, but he shook his head, then nodded. “I can’t just step down. That’s not how succession works. Uncle would need to challenge me to an Agni Kai. Once he wins, then he would be able to claim the crown.”

For some reason, those words made both Uncle and Zuko’s hearts start pounding. What was an Agni Kai and why did it get this reaction?

“What’s an Agni Kai?” Sokka asked for her.

“A fire duel,” Zuko said simply. “Usually goes until first burn, though historically, fights over the crown tend to be more fatal.”

“Nephew,” Uncle said softly, “I will not fight you.”

“You have to,” Zuko said, sounding bland despite the way his heart was practically humming with tension. “You previously abdicated the throne. You’re not in the line of succession, even if I abdicated. You have to claim the throne legally.”

“Zuko–” Uncle’s frown was audible in his voice.

Zuko sighed, then spoke quietly. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “The last one wasn’t even that bad.”

“And the first one was a nightmare,” Uncle countered. “Also, Zhao nearly killed you when your back was turned after the second one.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I won,” Zuko muttered.

“Zhao?” Toph repeated. She was positive she’d heard Katara, Sokka, and Aang bitching about someone by that name. Sokka called him Admiral Sideburns.

“Zhao tried to kill you?” Aang asked, something wobbly in his voice.

Zuko snorted. “Old news. I’m still here. He isn’t.”

Katara gasped, “you killed him!?”

“What? No! I tried to–” he sighed again. “No. The Ocean took him at the North Pole. I hope for his sake he’s dead. Spirits can be…”

Aang shuddered and Katara instantly turned to comfort him, not acknowledging that her accusation had been wrong.

“He deserved it,” Sokka said finally. Zuko shrugged, noncommittal. Toph wondered what he’d tried to do regarding Admiral Sideburns, but before she could ask, Sokka continued, “so Iroh challenges you to this Agni whatsit and then we’re done?”

“Yeah, I guess?”

“What are we waiting for, then?” Sokka’s voice was full of forced cheer and it grated on Toph’s nerves. She didn’t like this. Something wasn’t right.

“No,” Uncle said suddenly, and everyone paused to stare at him, but from the way his head was tilted, his attention was solely focused on his nephew. “I will not burn you.”

“You have to,” Zuko said bluntly. “Just, uh.”

“Just what?” Katara prompted.

“...I’d prefer to keep the rest of my face?” Zuko said awkwardly.

“Wait, what?” Toph blurted out, utterly confused. “What’s wrong with your face?”

“My Father melted it,” Zuko said, once again entirely bland as if those weren’t some of the most horrifying words that Toph had ever heard.

“What!?”

Zuko actually sounded surprised. “You didn’t know? Half the Earth Kingdom still gossips about it.”

“No, we didn’t–! That – your Father did that!?” Sokka yelped.

Zuko just shrugged. Toph guessed he was trying to appear unaffected, but she could hear the way everyone’s hearts were pounding furiously. Zuko might try to act like he wasn’t scared – but Toph’s senses were screaming at her that he really, really was.

“What the fuck.”

Katara frowned. “Your father did that and you still betrayed us all to go back to him!? What’s wrong with you!?”

Zuko winced, head tilted down like his gaze was trained on the ground. “Yeah,” he agreed, “that was one of my worse fuck ups.”

For a long minute, no one said anything. Then Uncle cleared his throat. “You said you’re not on Ozai’s side.” It wasn’t a question, and yet it was, and a demanding one at that.

Sighing heavily, Zuko seemed to sag in place. He very obviously did not want to talk about this.

Katara crossed her arms, glaring at him with an expectant air. “And why should we believe you?”

“Believe whatever you want,” Zuko grumbled. “Not like it matters. Once Uncle is crowned…” he trailed off, perhaps not knowing what would happen then.

Toph didn’t know either.

Or perhaps Zuko trailed off because he knew the end of that thought would upset them. After all, he’d apparently been expecting execution. And he hadn’t even been planning on fighting them if they tried.

Toph shifted, deeply uncomfortable. There was a heavy weight in her belly.

She forced herself to ignore it. “So if you’re not on Ozai’s side,” she asked, “what have you been doing since Ba Sing Se?”

“Yeah, actually, now that you mention it,” Sokka began, “we were surprised not to run into you during the invasion.”

Zuko’s heartbeat spiked so high that Toph’s own surged with adrenaline. “What?” she demanded.

“Toph?” her friends frowned at her, but they couldn’t sense heartbeats. (Well, Aang could, but he rarely focused enough to do so). They couldn’t tell that something was wrong.

“Zuko,” she said, voice deliberately firm, “what did you do on the Day of Black Sun? Where were you during the invasion?”

Squirming, Zuko said nothing.

“Zuko,” Sokka added his own disapproving voice to hers. “Where were you?”

Zuko swallowed so hard that Toph could feel the vibrations from his throat. Then he huffed out an annoyed breath. “I was in the Fire Lord’s bunker,” he finally said, voice so quiet that Toph almost missed it.

Katara hissed like that was an admission of guilt of some kind, but Toph needed details. “Doing what?” she asked.

“Trying not to die?” Zuko’s voice was wry.

Uncle and Aang both froze, hearts pounding wildly.

“What does that mean?” Sokka demanded.

“What does it sound like?” Zuko shrugged. He was still staring at the ground instead of looking at any of them. But hiding his eyes couldn’t hide him from her.

“It sounds,” she said slowly, “like you’re saying your dad tried to kill you.”

Zuko hummed. “Only once?” he offered as though that somehow made it better.

“What the fuck.”

“Nephew,” Uncle managed, sounding wretched.

Sokka tilted his head. “If Ozai tried to kill you during the eclipse, then where have you been? Why are you even here!?”

“Where else would I be?” Zuko asked and his voice was tired. “I haven’t left here in more than three months.”

Katara sneered, but Uncle spoke before she could say anything. “Nephew,” he said softly, “what happened?”

Zuko sighed, almost seeming to wilt. “I fucked up,” he said and refused to elaborate. Instead he fidgeted with the sleeves of his robes as an awkward silence fell over them.

Then he asked, “do you know what you did to my father?”

“What?”

“Do you know – has Uncle explained how the Fire Nation views what you did to him?” Despite his flippant tone, Zuko’s heart was beating wildly and Toph knew that this was important.

“No,” she answered for all of them. “How does the Fire Nation view Ozai’s defeat?”

“The self-proclaimed most powerful firebender in the world was taken down by a twelve year old. A twelve year old who let him live. Who took his bending. The humiliation of it is probably the main reason the nobles haven’t revolted yet.”

“Wait, what?”

“Well, most of them support Father and definitely want rid of me, but they don’t act because associating with Father now means inheriting his shame.”

“...I don’t get it,” Sokka said.

“The Avatar is ridiculously powerful,” Zuko said, “but Aang is – I mean, look at him.” He waved vaguely in Aang’s direction and Katara bristled. “Even knowing logically that you’re probably the most powerful bender in the world,” Zuko said to Aang, “when someone looks at you, what they see is a kid. You’re – you look innocent.” Somehow he made that word sound like something dirty and she could practically sense Aang pouting.

“That’s a good thing,” Katara snarled.

“Yeah, sure,” Zuko shrugged, not arguing. “But that’s exactly the problem. Father thrives on fear. That’s how he controls everything – he makes sure everyone knows that he’s the most terrifying thing in existence. And he lost. To an innocent-looking kid.”

“Hmm,” Uncle hummed consideringly. “I had not considered that.”

“Father defined himself with his bending,” Zuko explained. “His power was directly tied to it. And now it’s gone. And worst of all, he’s still alive.”

Aang’s voice wavered, “you make it sound like that’s a bad thing.”

“Death is an honored thing. By sparing him, you’ve declared that he isn’t even deserving of death. That now he has to live with not having his bending.”

There was something vicious in Zuko’s voice and Toph had a sudden foreboding sensation.

“Huh.” Sokka clicked his tongue. “So in other words, by keeping him alive, he’s receiving the worst punishment possible?”

“Death would be a mercy. It would make him a martyr.” Zuko let out a bitter huff. “He’s never shown mercy to anyone else. Why should he receive it?”

Aang chewed on his lip. “All humans deserve mercy,” he whispered.

“You can’t have it both ways,” Zuko dismissed. “Either all humans deserve life or all humans deserve mercy. Which is it?”

Katara stepped forward and put a hand on Aang’s shoulder when he rocked back slightly in response to Zuko’s blunt words. “What would you know of it?”

Zuko’s amused huff was devoid of any joy. “I wasn’t worthy of death either,” he said simply, rising to his feet. “I’ll wait for your challenge, Uncle,” he bowed his head towards Uncle. “Until then, I have work to do.”

And just like that, he was gone, the door sliding shut after him.

“What…” Aang started hesitantly, “what does that mean?”

“I think,” Uncle said slowly, “that we need to learn more of what happened between my nephew and his father.”

“And how do we do that? Also, why does it matter?” Sokka asked. “Look, not to be that guy, but I don’t really care about Zuko. We need to get Iroh to be Fire Lord and even he seemed to want that. We need to make that happen.”

Uncle sighed. “I cannot.” There was so much pain in his voice that Toph almost didn’t want him to explain why. “You may not care for my nephew, but he is my son in all but name,” Uncle said softly. “I will not hurt him.”

“But – Fire Lord–?”

“By his own word, he is not aligned with Ozai,” Uncle said. “Why don’t we give him a chance and see what kind of Fire Lord he can be?”

“...you’re kidding, right?”

“I am not.” Uncle’s tone was stern. “We can help him see that the war is wrong. That the balance is necessary. That the Avatar can be friend rather than foe.”

Aang sniffled, nodding his head. “I want to give Zuko a chance. It’s clear he’s changed and I think he could really impress us. I mean, half a year ago, he never would’ve sat in the same room as me and drank tea without attacking.”

“That is true,” Sokka grudgingly admitted. “And… I suppose waiting a few days would give us a chance to get the lay of the land.”

“Precisely,” Iroh smiled. Toph couldn’t see it, but she could feel it, almost like a gentle and warm hug. “I have many contacts in the Fire Nation. I will reach out to them and see what I can learn about what has been happening here.”

“Fine,” Toph agreed. “But if I don’t get to punch someone by the end of the week, then we will have a problem.”

“Noted,” Uncle said, and this time, there was real amusement in his voice.

#atla #wip wednesday #imprisoned zuko becomes fire lord

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