#atla Zuko

[demaparbat-hp]

Blinking back tears, she turned her gaze to Zuko. He hadn’t moved an inch. “Did you plan this?” She asked with awe. His jaw dropped agape, and his mouth widened when he whispered in the same tone as her. “Katara…Look.”

It's a surprise, really—one that she'll remember for the rest of their lives.

.

This is my first (and only!) entry for Zutara Week 2024, with the prompt Festive. A collab with the incredibly talented @geothewriter!

Somewhere In My Memory is a beautiful, wholesome ball of fluff. A truly soft and sweet fic I believe you will all enjoy. Go give it some love!

Read Somewhere In My Memory here!

[peppermintpepperoni6]

One went to therapy, two went to war

[princesssparky3000]

I live laugh love Toph and Zuko dynamic.

[sjbattleangel]

Of course she did! All she ever wanted to do was to project her disgusting incest fantasies onto a beautiful, queer positive kids series for her own perverted, sexual gratification!

Once again, for all the people in the back, CATRA AND ADORA WERE NEVER "SISTERS" OR "ADOPTED SIBLINGS". They grew up together in an orphanage-military boarding school as-I cannot emphasize this enough-BEST FIRENDS WHO CAME TO LOVE EACH OTHER.

After all, if they were truly "sisters"/"siblings", Lily would gush about them and ship them non-stop....just like what she does with ATLA's Zuko and Azula.

Yes, you head that correctly.

She ships Zuko and Azula.

"The screenshot of the She-Ra artbook", you say? This screenshot that you've thrown about before? This screenshot of a highly blurry page with no context or authorial credits?

That's really funny, because... She-Ra and the Princess of Power never had an official artbook. Certainly none written or compiled by N.D. Stevenson. There were plans to assemble an unofficial artbook at one point - I don't believe this ever went to print, but you can tell that the design style is nothing like the above

So... where does the "Catradora are sisters" image come from then? I did a touch of digging and found this:

(Image links to tumblr post that goes into a little more detail) So this was a picture in a New York Times article (link to an archived version, which unfortunately doesn't include said image although you can see where it would go). Rather than an artbook, these are... pieces of paper on a wall? Oh! This is from a media day that predates the airing of the first season. It has nothing to do with an artbook, and we have no idea who in the She-Ra staff would have written these blurbs or assembled these pages. We certainly cannot say that it was written by N.D. Stevenson, She-Ra's creator. You know what we do have, though? Direct from the creator? An interview with N.D. Stevenson about this very subject, featuring special guest star Rebecca Sugar, even!

(Deadname revised in screenshot) Maybe you should stop calling them sisters, Lily, that's kind of lesbophobic of you. Also, stop lying Lily.

[sxfbrainrot]

Obsessed with them atm.

[fruittarts-with-rosepetals]

mai: this is the problem! You make decisions without asking me zuko: I do not! *izumi running through the hallways with shirshu in her arms* mai:… zuko:…I will fix that

[thief-of-eggs]

I will never get over Aang using Zuko’s own BED to beat him up. Like the absolute gall??? Aura- unmatched. Absolutely destroyed him. Bamboozled and befuddled him.

I honestly don’t blame Zuko for his blind rage/obsessive desire to catch Aang because honestly, after that?? I’d need to catch the man who did that to me too

[dyingroses]

Avatar: The Last Airbender + text posts and stuff

[i-am-suffer]

[lnakoi]

Older zuko doodle

[burntsecrets]

A Song for Her

Pairing: Zuko and Katara Word Count: 968 Prompt: For Zutara Week 2024 | Day 5: Melody @zutaraweek Author's Note: This is a modern AU where Katara and Zuko are in their mid-20s. Warnings: mentions of parental abandonment, grief, emotional vulnerability, mild angst, discussion of unresolved trauma, themes of healing, rain/weather imagery, light romantic tension, introspection, public performance anxiety

The coffee shop was tucked into the corner of a bustling city street, its warm light spilling onto the damp sidewalk. Raindrops traced lazy patterns down the windows, catching the glow of neon signs and traffic lights outside. Inside, the faint hum of conversation mingled with the clatter of cups and the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

Katara leaned back in her chair, tapping her finger against the rim of her cup. She had chosen a table near the small stage in the corner, where an old upright piano stood waiting for the next performer. Her legs were crossed, one foot bouncing to the rhythm of her thoughts. The deep blue of her scarf matched her eyes, which flicked to the door every few moments.

Zuko arrived five minutes late, as usual, his dark hair dripping from the rain and plastered to his forehead. He scanned the room before spotting her, offering a lopsided smile that she pretended not to notice. His leather jacket was wet, and his hands were shoved deep into his pockets as he made his way to her.

"You’re late," she said, voice light but sharp enough to make him squirm.

"Blame the traffic," he muttered, shaking his jacket off and slinging it over the back of the chair. "Or the rain."

She arched a brow but didn’t press him further. Instead, she nudged a steaming cup toward him. “I ordered for you. Jasmine tea.”

He hesitated, then picked up the cup. The faintest smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he took a sip. "Thanks."

They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, the din of the café filling the spaces between them. Zuko’s fingers drummed against the table, restless as ever. Katara noticed how his eyes kept straying to the piano.

“You’re thinking about it again,” she said, not unkindly.

“What?”

“The piano.”

He glanced at her, startled, then down at his cup. “No, I’m not.”

“Zuko.” Her tone was soft, teasing. “I know you. You keep looking at it like it owes you an apology.”

He huffed a laugh, the sound low and unexpected. “Maybe it does.”

Katara’s lips curved into a small smile, her eyes tracing the curve of his jaw as he stared at the stage. He had always carried a quiet intensity, like a storm held just out of reach. She wondered if he knew how much it softened when he smiled.

A barista stepped onto the stage, announcing the next performer. Zuko stiffened as a young woman approached the piano, her fingers brushing the keys before she began to play. The first few notes spilled into the air, gentle and melancholic. Zuko’s jaw tightened, and his gaze dropped to the table.

Katara watched him carefully, the way his shoulders hunched ever so slightly, the way his hands clenched into fists on his lap. She reached across the table, her fingers brushing against his. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t look at her either. “It’s nothing.”

“Zuko,” she pressed, her voice quieter now. “Talk to me.”

He exhaled slowly, his hand turning under hers to grip it tightly. “It reminds me of my mom. She used to play... before she left.”

The words were barely audible, but they hung in the air between them, fragile and heavy. Katara’s thumb moved in gentle circles against his knuckles, her touch grounding him.

“You never told me that,” she said softly.

He shrugged, his eyes fixed on the table. “It’s not something I talk about.”

The melody swelled, filling the room with bittersweet emotion. Katara’s heart ached for him, for the boy he had been and the man he was still becoming. She tightened her grip on his hand, offering silent support.

“I think you should play,” she said after a moment.

He blinked, finally meeting her gaze. “What?”

“The piano,” she said, nodding toward the stage. “You should play. For her. For yourself.”

He stared at her, his amber eyes searching hers for something—doubt, pity, or perhaps reassurance. Whatever he found, it made him stand, his chair scraping loudly against the floor.

“Zuko—” she started, but he was already walking toward the stage.

The barista gave him a curious look as he approached, but Zuko simply nodded toward the piano. “Mind if I...?”

“Go ahead,” the barista said, stepping aside.

Katara’s breath caught as he sat at the bench, his fingers hovering over the keys. For a moment, he just sat there, his shoulders tense, his head bowed. Then, slowly, he began to play.

The first notes were hesitant, like a whisper, but they grew stronger with each passing second. The melody was haunting and beautiful, a cascade of emotions that filled the room and silenced the chatter. It spoke of loss and longing, of love and resilience.

Katara’s chest tightened as she listened, her eyes never leaving him. She could see the memories in the way his hands moved, the pain and hope in every note. He played like he was telling a story, one he had carried for far too long.

When the final note faded, the room erupted into applause. Zuko let out a shaky breath, his hands falling to his lap. He turned back to Katara, his expression unreadable, but she saw the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes.

She stood, meeting him halfway as he stepped off the stage. Without a word, she wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. He buried his face in her hair, his breath warm against her skin.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“For what?” she asked, her cheek resting against his chest.

“For reminding me,” he said, his arms tightening around her. “That some things are worth remembering.”

Katara smiled against him, her heart full. “Always.”

[gloomybadger4life]

Who would you want to see as a dragon? How would they become a dragon?

I've seen lots of fics and art with Azula and/or Zuko, but I am curious.

[kittenagent]

can you tell i have a type…

[spicyddrawing]

Chibi Zuko 🔥

[demaparbat-hp]

That infamous prison escape.