#aang pov

[heavensenthearty]

“I know you didn’t mean it…” He moves his arm just enough to look at me. “But you said it because you knew it would hurt me, right?”

I… I don’t know what to say. “I seriously didn’t mean it. If there’s something I could do to take it back, I would!”

“You can’t.”

These are the most cutting words I’ve ever heard from him. “Zuko, I really, really didn’t mean anything I said last night! I’ll do anything to prove—”

“Aang.” He pushes himself to sit. “… You turned on me. It’s going to take a while for me to forgive that… Not only because of you… I’m going to sleep early. Tell Katara not to make dinner for me.”

[acidicsketches]

Based on this ancient meme

[my-cabbages-gorl]

The Chosen One

[lookingforsneha]

Bellatrix and Azula have the same vibe and backstory, I literally cannot.

Like, both had a disowned sibling, both were raised as weapons for the beliefs of their families, both were perhaps the strongest of their families, the preferred "heir"? Both went insane at some point of their lives because of the pressure put on them by their families to be perfect.

Sirius and Zuko have such similar vibes too. Early on, Sirius feels like he's a disappointment to his family, so does Zuko. They both are angry and hurt deep down, and sometimes insufferable jerks at first. Both want to prove their worth to their family. Both change sides, realising the flaws in their parent's ideologies after seeing/going out into the world. Both have a lovable uncle who guided them/helped them get out of the toxic family- with Zuko it was physically and mentally getting him out of it all, with Sirius, his uncle Alphard helped, at the very least, financially? Like I've read stuff where he's sometimes very involved, and other times he's passed, leaving Sirius with a good inheritance. Both have a strong friendship with the sunshine character of the show that helps them grow and understand themselves better (for Zuko, it's Aang going with him and helping him understand have to firebend without anger. For Sirius, it's James always being an amazing support system.)

Anyway, younger Bellatrix and Sirius have the such a similar dynamic to Azula and Zuko, and ugh, they were all just kids put through hell.

Anyway, reading All the young dudes- Sirius' perspective is literally gonna bring me to sob. I don't know why I do this to myself. Everytime.

[firenaition]

i would pay an absurd amount of money to see an adult azulaang spar. azula, still a killer on the offensive. aang on defense, trying to make it look easy (he's trying to flirt with her mid-duel please ignore him) but is ultimately given away by the tight knit of his brow.

he knows enough to never go easy on her, that's not her way. all elements are fair game. he does try to throw her off by saying things like "you look so pretty when you're trying to kill me," to which she responds by hurling a ball of fire straight at his face. even when he loses (which is more often than he'd like to admit), he still wins every time he sees azula smile when she thinks he's not looking.

[icegoddessrukia]

And what do you have to say about Aang comparing Katara to Jet?

Oh wow, I don't want to get into TSR meta too much because it always goes around in circles and never ends well.

In his observation she seemed a little like Jet at first in how she was talking. From his perspective, she wanted revenge and there was some pure rage in her. I think he wanted to make her aware of how extreme he thought she was being and "snap her out of it" so that's why he said it, though he does empathize with her. Taking a life for revenge is a major deal for Aang and it is shocking for him. I could understand why Katara might have been offended when she heard that comment but I can also understand why he said the first thing that came to his mind. I'm not going to bash him for it.

Everyone in that conversation was only looking at it from their own perspective and that's why they were arguing so much. They all said some insensitive things in the moment. It's just that fandom only holds Katara and Aang accountable/practically demonizes them for their mistakes in TSR while giving Zuko (and Sokka, though he wasn't as insensitive as Zuko) a free pass.

Obviously, Katara isn't the same as Jet. It's a completely different context but he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. Was it the best thing to say to her? No. He's not perfect. I don't think anyone in the Gaang fully understood how Katara felt or how deeply her emotions run but I will say, Aang tried. Yes, Sokka was her sibling and Aang experienced the genocide but Katara had a different personality type and way of coping with her own grief.

I'm sure Aang didn't literally mean that she's completely the same as Jet and he still allowed her to take Appa. He didn't try to stop her in the end and he understood her need to confront the guy. He just hoped that she wouldn't choose taking a life but he accepted that he had to let her make that choice for herself. I feel like regardless of what he said at first, if Aang genuinely thought she was being another Jet, he wouldn't have put so much of his faith and trust in her.

Aang wanted to protect Katara's morality and at the same time uphold his own values, Sokka was siding more with Aang because he is not as emotionally invested in it as Katara and is not supporting revenge (and also he probably, like Aang, was fearful that his sister was acting in a way that would end up traumatizing her in the end), Zuko has a more grey morality and sees nothing wrong with revenge. He also really just wanted to make Katara trust him at all cost even if it meant getting said revenge with her because of his own guilt/insecurities plaguing him. Zuko, especially at that time period had a need to make people like him and it bothered him that she just didn't.

[ssreeder]

I’ve just had the idea it would be hilarious if Sokka randomly asks about a bald spot on Zuko’s head. And he’s like yeah that’s where my helmet cut me when you tried to kill me with a boomerang. And things ensue from there.

I’ve probably read it in a fic before but the idea is just so funny to me with liab, I would rather die than hurt you, Sokka.

I also think it’s funny how liab Sokka jabbed Zuko off his own ship into freezing polar waters lol. (Canon events haha) It’s really weird to think back on how much they despised each other before becoming prison pals lol.

liab sokka would probably deny those events ever happened. Knocked zuko from where into what? On a ship together??? Nahhh never. Not his fire bender <3

thanks for the ask anon <3

[kstarlitchaotics]

Yeah sorry but if it weren't a kid show I think Katara would have killed Yon

[autistic-katara]

scrolling the open atla tag nd stumbling across the weird takes i was not subjected to when scrolling only the zukka tag

[the-badger-mole]

Sorta Monthly Zutara Playlist: Anti-Kataang Edition

I Should Be...- Dru Hill

You're what I'm lookin' for. Our love can mean much more than what he's givin' you. But you must let him know that you can't take no more. Replace him with me

Water Runs Dry - Boyz II Men

Now, they can see the tears in our eyes, yeah. But we deny the pain that lies deep in our hearts. Well maybe that's a pain we can't hide. 'Cause everybody knows that we're both torn apart.

Fast Car - Tracy Chapman

You got a fast car. I got a job that pays all our bills. You stay out drinking late at the bar. See more of your friends than you do of your kids. I'd always hoped for better. Thought maybe together you and me'd find it. I got no plans, I ain't going nowhere. Take your fast car and keep on driving

Landslide - Fleetwood Mac

Well, I've been afraid of changin', 'cause I've built my life around you. But time makes you bolder, even children get older. And I'm getting older too.

Just to See You Smile - Tim McGraw

When you said time was all you really needed, I walked away and let you have your space. 'Cause leavin' didn't hurt me near as badly as the tears I saw rollin' down your face. And yesterday I knew just what you wanted when you came walkin' up to me with him. So I told you that I was happy for you and given the chance, I'd lie again

[isnt-it-too-dreamy]

i really hate that in the end atla went with romantic aang/katara. i read that originally zuko was supposed to be katara's love interest and tbh i see it. i think that would have been so much better. katara was always alone in a way bc she was the emotional caretaker of the group and kind of in the mom role for aang, who always needs her to tone herself down and be stable for him--meanwhile in katara's encounters with zuko he always respects her emotions and gives her space to express them. their maturity level is more equal, they're both alone in a sense, damn their mothers even sacrificed themselves for the same reason, and them being "endgame" or whatever just would have been such good drama--i mean with how katara started out hating zuko's guts and how she struggled so much with learning to trust him (again). bc of their history it was sooo moving as well in the end when zuko threw himself in the way of azula's lightning attack so that it wouldn't hit katara, so i can only imagine how emotionally satisfying it would have been if they had stuck to their original plan for these two characters. ;_;

[ink-beneath-her-fingernails]

everything in grayscale

read it on ao3   |   masterlist

Fandom: Avatar: the Last Airbender

TW: major character death, discussion of canon-typical genocide, discussion of canon-typical imprisonment, discussion of canon-typical death, discussion of loss of culture, children in distressing situations, dissociation, discussion of canon-typical past child abuse, self-blame. please let me know if there are any other warnings that should be added.

Wordcount: 2,939

Originally published: February 8, 2023

Summary: and this is the question you have to ask yourself (have been asking yourself, have faced from every person you've met in this new world, have been unable to escape in the past few weeks, have asked even your past incarnations who are so far removed from you that thinking their opinion could make a difference is almost laughable): are you going to kill the fire lord?

or, perhaps, a better question, the one everybody is too scared to ask you: are you going to watch the world burn instead?

there is no universe in which you can say no to both of them and not be lying.

(or: the lion turtle doesn't come. aang has a decision to make.)

Notes: inspired by this poll by @aboutiroh so... this is for her! i love the way it’s handled in the show, but something about the way that was worded just made my brain demand me to write this. i wrote the bulk of this in like an hour at 3am and did not let it sit in my drafts long enough for rested me to take a good look at so do with that knowledge what you will. this is in lapslock bc apparently that’s still a thing i’m running with. also i think there are more ellipses in this than in all of my other published fics combined and i am v sorry for that

Transfer Notes: n/a

you are twelve years old at the end of the world.

there is no waiting for the storm to pass, there is no letting someone else take care of things, there is no waking up, there is no giant lion turtle.

and this is the question you have to ask yourself (have been asking yourself, have faced from every person you've met in this new world, have been unable to escape in the past few weeks, have asked even your past incarnations who are so far removed from you that thinking their opinion could make a difference is almost laughable): are you going to kill the fire lord?

or, perhaps, a better question, the one everybody is too scared to ask you: are you going to watch the world burn instead?

there is no universe in which you can say no to both of them and not be lying.

but you are the last of your people.

kanna called them extinct. the mechanist blew through centuries-old mosaics and stories with rich history like they meant nothing. on ji and shoji and all the other kids from school looked at you like you were crazy when you told them the people who taught you that all life is sacred never had a military.

everyone's eyes are on you. you alone carry their legacy, can press their memory like flower petals on parchment or fingers of wind lacing through cloth. these people don't remember. it has been one hundred years, and they have spent all of them surviving.

you can hardly blame them.

but that means it's up to you to teach them.

this idea—it's not all there is of your people, not by a longshot. but it's still an important one, and if you can't respect and abide by this one belief you and everyone you know have held so firmly in your hearts for ages past, are acknowledging that it's there and actively choosing to just not follow it, how can you ever truly be respecting any of the rest of their customs?

how could you face them, if they knew that you kept the memory of your culture alive, thrust it back into a beating heart heard through the furthest corners of the world, cobbled it back together from dust and shaky breaths, all with bloody hands?

how could you face yourself?

how could anyone look at you, when you tell them that the air nomads were pacifists, and they considered all life sacred, and not think liar, liar, liar? how could you possibly make them understand when you can hardly wrap your head around the possibility of starting the sequence of events that will lead to you having to do so?

but.

all life is sacred.

you think about your home, about gyatso, about the dozens and dozens of suits of armor that surrounded him, dusty bones inside, leather portions stained darker than they should be, even the metal cracked and dented where they once were flung into walls, perhaps fatally.

you think about how very, very long this war has been going on, and how many people have died because of it—how many people will die, if you don't do something drastic in the next twenty four hours.

you think about how when you look deep inside yourself, the closest air nomad avatar you can reach takes one look at the traditions you hold so dear and tells you not to worry, that you could never do it anyway, that you have a higher duty.

you think about how you are only twelve years old, and you think that this might just break something in you.

but you've been broken since you came out of the ice, haven't you?

there will be time to heal, you think, or to try, at least.

you don't think you can live with yourself if you stand back and let the world burn down around you.

even if that means that you won't be able to live with yourself without thinking your hands are red for the rest of your life, or choking on screams and ash every night, or walking out with one or two or ten new shiny scars adorning your skin.

you can only hope they'd be able to forgive you for it.

*

even if i did defeat ozai, and i don’t know that i could, iroh says, when the idea for him to fight his brother instead is half-heartedly pitched. history will see it as just more senseless violence.

you do not ask him why he thinks that you could beat him if he’s unsure of his own victory. you do not ask what it is, then, for a child to kill a man and his entire culture in the same instant.

*

you look down at the man before you.

you're not the avatar, not anymore, not really.

it would be easier, if you were. quicker.

but you don't want it to end like that. because you've come to terms with your decision, really, you have, but that feels—

something other, with every force of nature and more at their fingertips, one thousand lives in every breath and thought and voice, using it all to blot one man—horrible, powerful, angry, terrible—still just a man—from the face of the earth with nary a thought.

and. all life is sacred.

you hate ozai. you really, really do.

more than you've ever hated anyone, you think, except for maybe sozin.

you don't want to kill him.

you're going to.

you hate him, and you don't want to kill him, and you're going to anyway, and he's an objectively awful person who's maybe never done a single good thing in his life and caused an immense amount of pain and suffering that will last for generations—and still he deserves for you to be present when you kill him. not safely distanced in the mind and heart like the avatar state sometimes allows lately, allowing so many other someones to take control.

you deserve to be present for it, too.

you don't want to be. but if you're going to betray the last of your people's traditions, willingly and intentionally, then you aren't going to do it carelessly, at the very least. you aren't going to let it be something easily forgotten. you aren't going to let it be any lacking in weight.

another mark upon this line, you think, that you have to do this for them. after everything, and even when in defeat, they gain another victory that can never be erased.

ozai looks at you with something like fear.

you look at him and try to convince yourself that he should die.

(on ji and shoji and all the other kids from school don't know the dances their nation was built on, you remember.

you don't even know how long kuzon lived, you remember. probably not long, after he turned fifteen. zuko said that's when they used to start drafting.

sokka can't even picture his mother's face anymore, you remember.

this war feeds their own people into a machine, you remember. enlistment quotas go up, age and skill requirements go down, propaganda squeezed into every play, spilled over every textbook, shoved down every throat, children and innocents sick and dying from the river that's cradled them for generations and suddenly turned rotten, struggling for food and medicine because the factory's taken it all, because without the factories there is no war, and because these people can't fight back, and have been told to trust, and the people doing this to them do not care.

hama was fed dry air through bound limbs and cracked lips until she learned that even life can be drunk, so even life can be controlled, you remember. until she learned that sometimes, to live, to preserve something on the brink of disintegration, you have to do things you aren't proud of, things you don't enjoy—or learn to. hama, you remember; a katara-that-could've-been, so different from you, too the same, you can't blame her for anything and you blame her for everything. still, not her fault, really.

the prison meant to keep the most dangerous prisoners in the fire nation, built to hold fire benders and non-benders and no one else, you remember.

dozens and dozens of children in tree-tops, you remember. their past burned by the fire nation in one way or another so they could never go back, had no one else to turn to but others still choking on smoke.

you remember, you remember, you remember.)

(ozai, you think, could never be someone who knows enough to remember.)

the list is long and the crimes are many—some so small they seem silly, some so vast you can hardly wrap your tongue around them. all of them, a horror that you've barely even started to comprehend.

you know, suddenly, with a great certainty that terrifies you—yes, this man should die.

(you still do not want to kill him.

you wonder if that makes you a worse person than he is, or a better one.)

you don't have a lot of time.

you've seen azula break out of earthen cuffs before, who knows what ozai is capable of? certainly doing the same shouldn't be beyond his capabilities. you have to act quickly.

even if there wasn't the risk of him getting away—

your friends are going to be here soon, if things went well (and you have to believe that things went well), and—you don't think you can let them see that.

none of them are new to death, really. you aren't either. but you're all still just kids. and it's different, seeing someone die, and seeing someone you know intentionally kill them. or, you think it probably would be.

you're not going to allow that, if you can help it. you don't ever want them to have to see you like that. this.

you don't want to give him a chance to get into their heads, don't want to look zuko in the eye when you haven't worked up the courage to do it yet, don't want toph to have to feel the squirming body, the fade of the fluttering heartbeat, the quaking lungs, the sudden absence of any organic vibration from the corpse.

you have to act quickly.

so you... do.

it's fairly anti-climactic, in the end.

you try to make it as painless as possible. you think some of your friends might say that it's better than he deserves.

you wonder, after, if the dirt on your hands is supposed to feel like blood.

there is... a body in front of you. it used to be a person once.

distantly, the buzzing in your chest begins to fade, and you think that means that maybe the comet's gone now, but it's been behind you for a while now and you don't quite have the will to check.

your friends land near you, and even as you barely register it, something tight in your chest loosens. they're alright, they're alright, it's okay, they're fine, it's done, it's over.

you can't stop staring at him.

suki leans into your line of vision, looking over the corpse with a furrow in her brow.

"did you... you know..."

she opens her mouth to finish the question, but toph cuts her off with an elbow to the side and a sharp nod.

you wonder where zuko and katara are. you wonder if they managed to defeat azula. you wonder how final their methods had to be.

she's fourteen, zuko had told you once.

half your friends are older than that.

(half your friends never got the chance to be older than that.)

you try not to think about what's happening in ba sing se right now.

"aang?"

sokka hobbles over with grit teeth and a pronounced limp. suki rushes to his side next to you to help take the weight off one of his legs. toph's taken one or two steps further, you notice, but nothing more than that.

there's a gentle hand on your shoulder.

"...are you—"

he sucks in a sharp breath.

"are you alright?" he asks, even if he probably knew the answer before the day even started, even if it's probably obvious just from looking at you.

you think that you appreciate the sentiment anyway.

it takes—more effort than it should, you think, but you nod—a shallow thing, that feels tired, and hollow.

your feet ache, your back, your calves, maybe something in your hip, but—nothing serious. it all feels dull, anyhow. distant, somehow. it's not a big deal. doesn't really bother you.

suki wraps an arm around you like she's holding you up, too.

it's a little sad, you think. zuko looks much more like ozai than azula does. none of them liked that much, probably.

toph is suddenly at your side, pressed firmly against you, arm to arm.

when did that happen?

he'd called you weak, a fool, a coward.

you are twelve years old and suddenly you understand with every bone in your body in a way you couldn't wrap your head around before, how this sort of man could look at a child begging for mercy and scar them for life with his bare hands.

you wonder exactly how many like him there are in the fire nation. you think of all the things you've seen and mentally correct that thought to include the rest of the world, too.

one less now, in any case.

you don't have appa. the airships are all down. unless you intend to walk all the way to the caldera, all you can do now is wait.

you're sitting. you think that might be toph's doing.

suki helps lower sokka to the ground, takes a seat herself.

"hey, aang?" toph whispers.

you're glad she's using your name. if she called you twinkletoes right now, you think—you think you might—

you're just glad she doesn't.

as she settles into her spot on the stone, legs crossed beneath her, earth accepting her in a welcoming caress, she folds her arms around your own, clinging in a way you've all grown used to.

"do you remember what we worked on?"

ozai's eyes are gold, and dull.

suki glances between you and him a few times, following your gaze, and you think she's maybe considering closing his eyes, but she doesn't.

of course you remember what you worked on with toph.

earth does not bend, earth does not give. you are sturdy and immovable, a lead weight sliding to the center of the world, dragged down by the body you've just created. you don't know if you will ever be able to fly again after this, don't know if you'll ever be able to stop.

you don't answer, though, so she keeps talking.

"close your eyes."

but if you close your eyes it might not be real anymore. if you close your eyes you won't see what you've done.

maybe that's alright, though. maybe you don't want to.

they shutter closed.

there's a moment of silence, of heavy breathing, and you wonder if she's waiting for some indication from you that you have, but you don't have the strength within you to give it to her. she must either just trust you to have done it, or one of the others gave her some sort of sign, though, because she moves past it without pressing further.

"listen. feel."

you do.

you're still not great at it, definitely nowhere near her level, but—good enough.

you can feel the palm of her other hand sinking into the rock without thought, the way suki's breathing oddly, with more effort than should be required, like something in her ribs is wrong, the way sokka is trembling as the adrenaline fades from his system and the exhaustion sets in. you can feel the wind moving and the trees below shaking under the weight of their char and the critters that are still around to call this place home chasing each other through cracks in the earth and divots in the rock. you can feel the jutting stone that restrains something that will never fight back again, the utter lack of any movement from that side of the platform.

"we're right here. we're okay. we're not going anywhere. it's over."

sokka leans in, stretches the arm he isn't keeping cradled to his chest around the three of you in an approximation of a hug. suki shifts her hold on you to bring you a little closer together. toph leans her head on your shoulder.

she says it again, and again, and again, a mantra you latch onto with both hands and burning eyes.

we're right here. we're okay. we're not going anywhere. it's over. it's over. it's over.

we're okay.

you don't think about the trees, or the restraints, or the animals, or the stone, or the body.

you focus on one, two, three, solid heartbeats, steady sets of lungs.

you don't open your eyes, don't watch the sky. it's okay, though, because they're okay, and they're watching.

you don't know how long you sit there, skin warm where they hold you, breathing deliberately like you've learned for years, focusing on the thrum of their cardiovascular systems, waiting for the last of yours to come home.

you think, if this is the rest of forever, after all that—

you think that maybe you might be okay.

and right now, you don't think you have it in you to care much about what that might say about you.

[flameohotwife]

Hey there, could you do some domestic kataang (maybe with a hint of cloudbabies)? I would really appreciate it.

I love your works, thank you for them and thank you in advance :)

Hi! This one got to be much longer than a drabble, with way more than a hint of cloudbabies. You can also find it on ao3 for ease of reading :) Thank you so so much for the ask--I hope you enjoy!

In Sickness and In Health (rated G)

Katara awoke with a start to the sound of Kya snoring loudly on the floor next to their bed. That’s right, she remembered, rubbing her face, she came in here because she couldn’t sleep. No wonder with that stuffy nose… She rolled over and found Tenzin curled up in Aang’s spot on the bed, snuggled into a blue blanket woven from Appa’s fur. His mouth was lolling open and there was a trail of drool hanging out. Scanning the dark room for Aang, Katara’s heartrate quickened when couldn’t see him anywhere.

Since having kids, Aang had sworn off leaving in the middle of the night for Avatar emergencies. He always waited until his family was awake and he could give them notice first. He said it was because they didn’t deserve to have their young lives interrupted like that, but Katara knew better. She knew that it was to say goodbye, just in case the mission went badly wrong, as emergency missions are wont to do. To make sure he gave each of his children a hug and told them how much he loved them one last time. 

Pulling on her robe, Katara slowly snuck out of the bed. She bent some water from a nearby pot and with a splay of her hands it vaporized, immediately humidifying the room. Kya snuffled in her sleep and rolled over. Katara padded down the hall to the kitchen with a smile, where she found Aang examining Bumi as they stood next to the table.

“I don’t think you’ll be going to school today either, Boom,” Aang was saying. Katara’s smile evaporated.

“But Dad!” Bumi protested. “I can’t miss today! I have my final presentation in World History and Uncle Sokka was gonna come talk to the class with me!” 

“I’m sorry, son,” Aang shook his head, putting a hand on Bumi’s shoulder. “You couldn’t even keep your breakfast down this morning and you’re burning up. If your mother was awake she’d tell you the same thing.”

Katara chose that moment to fully enter the room, placing the back of her hand gently against her oldest son’s head. She had to reach up to do so, now—he’d gotten so tall in the last few years. Her heart squeezed at the thought. He was in his final year of schooling, and then she was sure he would be off on new adventures without them. This little boy had been her entire world since the day she found out she was pregnant, and now he was almost a man. 

“Spirits, Bumi,” she exclaimed under her breath. “Your dad’s right. You definitely have a fever. I’ll make you some jook and then it’s back to bed with you—healer’s orders.”

Aang shot her a worried look as she started the rice on the stove and Bumi sat down, laying his head down on the table, defeated. He always hated when any of their babies were sick, and right now all three of them were being slammed with something. She looked out at the snow falling around Air Temple Island and sighed, weariness already seeping into her bones. She just hoped she and Aang could stay healthy.

This winter had been particularly hard on all of Republic City in terms of illness. The hospital she worked at had been overrun and she knew there had been many illnesses spreading through the school their older two children attended. It seemed like since the weather turned, every other week one of their children had been down with something, and now it was all three at once. 

Aang brewed them all some tea on the other stove burner. He pulled out some of Iroh’s special blend to help with Bumi’s stomach. Katara smiled sadly. They’d been through enough stomach bugs at this point that they had the response down to a science, though it never took the edge off of their parental worry. Aang had clearly woken up early to help Bumi this morning and already cleaned up whatever mess there was. 

The two of them worked together in silence, conveying their concerns in glances and pressed lips, gentle touches as they moved around each other in the small—but homey—kitchen. Soon the tea was ready and Aang passed Katara a cup before carrying two over to where Bumi sat. Aang passed his son his own cup and gently encouraged him to drink.

Now that Bumi was almost 16, there weren’t as many opportunities to still care for him the way they had when he was younger. He didn’t come to them for comfort as often. When Tenzin was upset, he would come toddling up to his parents for a hug or for them to “kiss it better.” Kya was six now and when she was sad, she waffled between wanting cuddles from her parents and wanting to prove her fierce independence. 

But right now, Bumi took a sip of his tea, winced, and buried his face in his father’s shoulder. Aang wrapped his arms around his son as best he could and stroked lovingly at his back. 

Katara stirred some miso and ginger into the boiled down rice, remembering the first time Bumi had been sick and how terrified Aang had been. They’d been so young when he was born, and Aang was still figuring out the many ways in which his trauma presented and affected him. The first time Bumi had caught a cold and his little body struggled to breathe, Aang had been positive that their child was about to die. While Katara had cleared the infant’s nose out as best she could (while Bumi screamed and coughed even more and tired himself out), Aang pleaded with Katara to save him. 

“Please,” he had begged, tears in his eyes and pain etched into every surface of his face. “I can’t lose him, too.”

Katara had known Bumi would be fine with continued treatment; she was a healer after all, and this was a typical childhood cold. But Aang had flown into a worry spiral unlike anything she’d ever seen from him. She knew how important their children were—to each of them individually and to the world—but to see how the unlikely loss affected her young, strong husband was jarring.

She had placed baby Bumi in his arms, then, under his sash so that they were skin-to-skin, chest-to-chest. Immediately, both of them relaxed into each other. Tears still streamed down Aang’s face as he hummed an old Air Nomad lullaby but Katara watched the tension drain out of his muscles now that he could physically feel their child breathing. Alive. Okay.

Katara watched as that same tension evaporated from Aang now. Cupping Bumi’s head against him and stroking his back. She scooped up a bowl of jook and brought it to the table, pressing a kiss into Bumi’s wild head of hair. 

“Thanks, Mom,” he mumbled weakly.

“I love you, Boom,” she cooed. Tears pricked at her eyes and she quickly blinked them away before pressing a kiss to the top of Aang’s head too, and going back to the kitchen.

Kya and Tenzin had been down with colds for the last two days, and the kitchen was a bit of a disaster as a result. Katara took a deep breath, willing herself the energy to get the dishes washed and the counters wiped down.

“I can get it in a minute,” Aang reassured her, but she shook her head. He was right where he needed to be in this moment; she could handle the dishes. Just then, Tenzin toddled in, coughing.

“Mama! Water, pease?” 

She smiled as he raised his arms up to her. This was the precise reason the dishes hadn’t been done the day before—she’d had two sick and clingy children who needed their mama. Aang had tried to stay home and help, but a messenger hawk called him away by lunch and then he’d been kept at the council late into the evening. Bumi came home after school, took one look at the pile of sick children resting on his mother on the couch and said he was going to Uncle Sokka’s to work on his report, not returning until bedtime.

Katara scooped up her toddler and poured him a glass of water which he guzzled down. Hopefully Kya would sleep late and feel better when she awoke. She was already a creature of the night—often feeling the call of the moon and asking to practice her bending after the boys were in bed. It wasn’t unusual for her to sleep until midday on the weekends even when she was healthy. She took after her mother so much already.

Katara ladled another few bowls of jook, then took Tenzin’s now-empty glass and set it down on the counter to refill later. Tenzin played with her hair as she bustled around, tidying the kitchen, allowing their meal a moment to cool. She saw Bumi take a small bite out of the corner of her eye and watched him anxiously. He swallowed, then returned his head to Aang’s shoulder. Aang returned her look, but gave a subtle nod. I’ve got this, he said, wordlessly. He’ll be alright. 

Breathing a sigh of relief, she brought Aang his own bowl, which she knew he wouldn’t eat until after Bumi was safely in bed and he’d reheated it with firebending. Then, grabbing the bowls for Tenzin and herself while balancing the wiggly toddler on her hip, she took them into the larger, more formal dining room that was really only used when they had guests. It had plush orange pillows on the ground and a low table. She didn’t normally allow her children to eat in there, but since Bumi was ill, she didn’t want to risk a very messy Tenzin slurping or spilling his food and turning his brother’s stomach even more. Eating with small children definitely wasn’t for the faint of heart… 

Tenzin absolutely lived up to her predictions, too. By the end of their meal, she even had jook in her hair. She reminded herself that Tenzin was the least rambunctious of her and Aang’s children at this age as she wiped food out of his pajamas and summoned water to clean up the cushions they were sitting on before the rice mixture hardened. It seemed as though he had hardly gotten any of the food in his mouth, finding more enjoyment in flinging his spoon or painting with it. Not that she was surprised—he was so congested.

Eventually, she heard hushed voices and the scraping of a chair. Aang must be helping Bumi back to bed, she thought. Or he’s been sick again… She knew Aang could handle whatever the situation was, though.

Once the mess was cleaned up, she set Tenzin in the living room with his toys and tried again to start the dishes. She could feel a headache coming on but tried to will it away—she could not be sick, too. She didn’t have the time.

Already it felt like she’d taken more time off work in the last month than she’d spent at the hospital. And the Republic City council was beginning to get frustrated with Aang as well for his frequent absences. Being a working parent had always been difficult, but it was another level of anxiety when the kids were sick.

Tenzin came in and tried to cling to his mother’s legs as she worked, scrubbing dish after dish and setting them to dry. As she went to set another plate down on the counter, she found it landed in Aang’s hand instead and she grinned up at him.

“Thank you,” she said quietly as he began to dry each dish and put them away.

“Of course,” he said. “Bumi’s resting, now. He’s got a bucket in there just in case, but I think he should be okay now. I sent a hawk to Sokka to let him know, too.”

“Oh Spirits, thank you,” she sighed. She truly was grateful for a husband who took on so much of the work when kids were sick and didn’t need to be told what to do. Suddenly, she sneezed, and Aang looked at her with concern.

“I’m fine,” she tried to insist, but Aang already had his hand up against her forehead.

“No, you’re not,” he said, taking the same tone he had with Bumi not an hour before. “You need to go lay down, too. I’ll finish the dishes and send hawks to the hospital and the council that neither of us will be in, today.” He bent and lifted Tenzin off the ground, freeing Katara’s legs.

Katara set the bowl she had just picked up back in the sink and leaned heavily over the counter. She knew Aang was right. Aang wrapped an arm around her and she rested her head on his chest, allowing him to walk them all back towards their bedroom. 

The sound of Kya’s snoring greeted them, though it wasn’t as loud as it had been earlier. Katara hugged Aang, then squeezed Tenzin’s hand before collapsing back into her bed. 

“I’ll bring you a glass of water and some tea,” Aang whispered. “Call me if you need anything.”

“I love you,” she murmured.

Aang lovingly brushed her hair away from her face. “I love you too, Sweetie. Get some rest.”

When Katara woke up again, her throat was throbbing, and she felt achy all over. She rolled over and saw that Kya had left the room at some point. Her tea was still there. She took a sip to soothe her throat, but it was cold. Outside their room, Kya and Tenzin were bickering about some sort of toy configuration. 

Aang either sensed her movement or had perfect timing, because at that moment he opened the door and brought her a steaming bowl of soup. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked hesitantly.

“Worse,” Katara croaked. “This should help, though. Thank you. How’s Boom?”

“He’s still sleeping!” Aang chuckled after he shook his head and the concern over Katara’s state faded from his face. “He hasn’t been sick again since this morning. Kya coughed so hard a few times I thought she was going to be sick, but we’ve been safe so far. Tenzin seems to be doing much better.”

“That makes sense, since he was the first one to get it. Hopefully that means Kya isn’t too far behind.” 

Aang nodded then, noticing that Katara hadn’t had any of her soup yet, bent a mouthful up to her. She smiled when she noticed, rolling her eyes at his playfulness that she loved so much. She finally opened her mouth and allowed him to bend it in. It immediately warmed and soothed her and she sighed happily once she swallowed. 

“Now you have to stay healthy,” she said sternly. “We can’t afford to have everyone down but the toddler!”

Aang full-out laughed at that. “No,” he said. “That certainly wouldn’t do. Can you imagine all the furniture he would paint?”

“Or the ‘soups’ he would make in the sink?”

“Or how many cushions would be used for forts? Do you think we would even be able to walk through the house when he was done?”

“Ha! Probably not.” 

“Speaking of which, I should get back out there before they find a way to overturn hot soup all over themselves. Will you be okay?”

“I’m good. Thank you again for the soup. And for everything. I love you so much.”

“Love you too, Sweetie,” he said as he closed the door to their room once more.

Katara grinned. She felt terrible, but she was so glad that if she and the kids had to be sick, Aang was the one they had by their side through it all. She couldn’t imagine a better partner in these moments. He had his flaws—it was not easy to be married to the Avatar—but he also knew exactly how to cheer her up when she needed it.

[hauntingblue]

The dialogue is bad I get it now....

[kingoftheu]

Avatar Fanfic! From my AU, Bitter Medicine.

Featuring Aang attenting a very awkward Fire Family Dinner!

[hopufull]

cr:chaiinsawmen