Your takes on my favourite shows are eye opening and I love reading them, sometimes I feel like I can't find the right words to express my opinion and then you go and express yours so well!
Anon, I appreciate the appreciation!
I write posts in an effort to fully explain how I reached my conclusions, but I know it can be overkill sometimes, so I'm glad people actually do read my what-appears-to-be-lengthy-ramblings-but-are-actually-around-500-words-and-just-appear-long-because-I-include-images posts.
And I'm also not afraid of being a clown.
I know people hesitate to express their thoughts because they 1) can't find the words, or 2) they don't want to look foolish, but this is Tumblr aka the site that probably has 100K+ notes on a post that reads "I'd fuck that wet man" so . . . write the post, fam.
You won't find the words if you don't attempt to search for them, and writing down those attempts greatly helps. The words don't have to be perfect. You will shape them as you go along. We are creating living narratives that show the progress of our thoughts, beliefs, and writing styles. I don't look at my Facebook posts from almost two decades ago and cringe. I'm proud to see the evolution of my writing style.
Because I'm still a clown.
I don't mind being wrong. I don't mind looking foolish. I don't mind writing about my wild ass theories only for the show to remind me it isn't as crazy as I am (but YYY did give me aliens, so a broken clock is right twice a day, you know?).
All of this is really just to tell you that I do appreciate the appreciation, but I like it more when others join the conversation. Write your own post. Reblog a post with your additions. Express yourself. Even if it's not perfect and even if you sound foolish, embrace it.
This is Tumblr dot com, and we like clowns here.
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Prompt: Azula joins Zuko on his Avatar hunt instead of Iroh. I don't know why, I don't know how, but I'm certain to be entertained by whatever follows.
Ozai and Ursa were already dead by the time Iroh arrived home. He stepped from his ship into the palanquin, and rode past the places of their execution, holding the urn of his son’s ashes.
He had no time to entrust them to the Fire Sages before his father summoned him. He brought them along, because this was an easier thing than setting them down. And perhaps Lu Ten’s grandfather would like to see him once more, outside of the family shrine. Iroh would have given anything—
He placed the urn on the floor next to him. It did not kneel when he did. Fire Lord Azulon surveyed him from behind the flames.
“Rise, my son. It is good to have you home.”
They did not speak of Lu Ten. His father had always been a man to look to the flames of the future, rather than the ashes of the past.
* * *
They hanged Ursa, as befitted her attempted crime, and her past station.
They burned Ozai, as befitted his. A child of Agni should always return to the flames.
The children of the traitors had been stricken from the family line. Had been placed in the capital prison; bait for the trap. Azulon was keeping close eye on those who expressed concern for the offspring of regicides. Ozai had expected support for his position; it would be Iroh’s second task to sift through the court, and discard the chaff.
His first task was a more practical resowing. Azulon had already selected a handful of candidates: women of suitable birth and known loyalties. The wedding date had been set, pending selection of the bride.
“Thank you, father,” Iroh said.
Lu Ten held his silence.
* * *
Azula had never liked the servants who’d fussed at her hair and clothes, who’d pulled and tugged until she was perfect, like perfect was a thing outside of her for others to bestow. She only had to look at Zuko to know how far tailored robes and well-oiled hair could take one.
She couldn’t see Zuzu from her cell. Her robes were too cold against the stone and every tug to wrap them tighter just made them worse, she could see it in the guards’ faces, the way they’d stared when she’d first arrived and looked a few days after and now they barely even saw. No one would talk to her, no matter her demands. They didn’t even stop their own conversations anymore; just slid in her food and kept walking and batted away her fires and it was cold here.
There were things crawling in her hair that her nails couldn’t dig out. Sometimes she thought she heard Zuzu yelling, but she couldn’t be sure. And it would have been undignified to yell back. She was a princess. She was fifth in line for the dragon throne.
Fourth, now that Lu Ten was dead.
Third, because father was, too.
He’d yelled and then he’d screamed and it hadn’t done anything but make the crowd jeer. Fire Lord Azulon had been silent. Poised. In control. She was his namesake and she would be too.
She was nine.
* * *
Zuko yelled until his throat burned. The guards didn’t care, they didn’t listen to him, which was nothing new. He shouted and shouted and his own ears hurt. Maybe that’s why he never heard Azula calling back.
Grandfather had made them watch when he’d killed father and, and—
If grandfather had Azula killed, he would have made Zuko watch that, too. Azula was probably just better at being a prisoner than he was. Maybe the guards even talked to her.
He was eleven.
* * *
Iroh’s new wife was a third his age. A flower just coming to bloom. She looked like his first wife; Azulon knew his preferences. She was young enough to be Lu Ten’s sister. She smiled and laughed each day with the other court wives, and came to his room with lists of possible dissenters to discuss in their marital bed. It was not the pillow talk he was used to, but it was charming, in its way. She liked to lay on her stomach and kick her feet above her as they traced the web of treachery with his dead brother at its center. She was here to have his children—a task at which she worked with admirable diligence—and to be the acting Fire Lady. She had not had to struggle and flaunt herself for his affections; she had been picked from a line-up, her expectations realistic, her motives aligned with his. It was the least romantic relationship Iroh had ever been part of. It was… refreshing.
On the day the palace doctor confirmed their newly budded line of succession, the Fire Lord called them both in for congratulations. And for pruning.
* * *
Zuko had turned twelve, but had not realized it. Azula had turned ten. She’d counted the days.
Iroh had not been able to visit them in prison; only to inquire as to their treatment. Individual cells, regular meals of reasonable quality, no abuses. He’d moved his own people into position to ensure the last.
Azulon had moved them back, after a delay for his soft-hearted son’s conscience. They could not waste loyal men on cuckoo-vipers. And Iroh could not waste his father’s good will. Not when it would be needed in the future, for the most important request.
* * *
“And your wife agrees to this?” asked the Fire Lord, behind his flames.
Iroh’s wife had not been directly addressed, and so did not reply. She sat in polite and perfect seiza, her head raised, as befitted the woman currently running her half of the court. Azulon had never seen fit to replace his own wife, after all.
“She does,” Iroh spoke for her. “We have spoken on the issue at length, and believe it best. Our family is small, and cannot afford to be smaller. The children are young; too young to have been in their parents’ confidences. With proper guidance—”
“And how would they place in the line of succession?” Azulon asked. “How would they chafe, how would they plot, with a decade’s experience over your eldest?”
Lu Ten’s own connections at court had been built while his cousins were still in diapers. But he was no longer Iroh’s eldest.
“We believe—”
“No,” his father interrupted again. “I will not allow their adoption. Not by you, where they could smother your own babe in the cradle, and certainly not by someone I trust less.”
Which was everyone, since the night his daughter-in-law had served him tea sent by his son.
“Father,” Iroh began, and his wife shifted her elbow just so, the only indication that she wished to dig it into his ribcage. “They are young, and innocent. They are my beloved nephew and niece. Your grandchildren. We cannot in good conscience—”
‘Good conscience’ had never factored into his father’s policies. Iroh had… begun to realize that, of late. His wife let out a small sigh, deliberately audible only to the man next to her. She had cautioned very strongly against a—how had she put it?—a feelings-based approach to this situation. Feelings rarely factored into her own decisions. She had been hand-selected by his father, after all.
His wife went into a half-bow, her head lowered. “May I speak, my lord?”
The flames crackled. The shadow of his father inclined its head, just slightly.
“To kill the children is wise, and I admit, would set my mind at ease for my own child’s sake. But my husband feels strongly on this matter, and so I support him, for his happiness is my own. May I suggest a compromise? To place them outside the court, where they cannot build influence, nor harm your son’s heirs. A position from which you can judge their characters and value to the nation as they grow.”
“You suggest banishment,” the Fire Lord said.
“Not unstructured, of course. To leave them roaming freely would invite those that would take them in. Perhaps a military commission? As they are commoners, they should begin from a rank befitting their station, of course. Let them prove their worth on their own merit.”
Iroh could not see through the flames, but he knew his wife’s small smile was reflected on his father’s face.
“A naval position,” the Fire Lord said. “On a ship that does not frequently make port. The frontlines would be the best place for them to prove themselves, wouldn’t you agree?”
Iroh closed his eyes.
“Father,” he said. “Please,” and he could feel his wife willing him to stop talking. The Fire Lord had already agreed to spare their lives. A banishment could be undone, so long as he and the children both outlived the man before them. “I… thank you for your wisdom in this ruling. But perhaps, if they complete some feat worthy of our line, they could be allowed to return?”
The flames were hot against his face. His new wife was still and silent against his side. His father… his father laughed, a low exhalation, the wheeze of a humorless old man.
“Let them bring me the Avatar,” Fire Lord Azulon said, “and I will welcome them home with honor.”
* * *
Zuko didn’t know why they’d pulled him from his cell or scrubbed him down or taken his old clothes. They’d been dirty but they could have been cleaned. His new clothes were scratchy, and too big, and they looked like a common soldier’s, and… and—
And they’d shaved his hair.
* * *
It had gotten rid of the bugs, Azula admitted, in the privacy of her own mind. Still. She memorized the faces of the woman who’d held her down and the man who’d shorn her. For future reference.
They hadn’t bothered sizing her new outfit for a child. Azula noted the quartermaster’s face, as well.
* * *
They were put on a ship. It was the first time they’d seen each other in nearly a year.
Zuzu looked at her head, and wisely said nothing.
She raised an eyebrow at his, and graciously granted him the same.
It was hard to tell them apart. They had their mother’s face. And their father’s.
* * *
Their captain’s name was Zhao. He invited them to dinner in his private quarters, once the Fire Nation was behind them. Zuko fidgeted. Azula didn’t.
The captain spoke on how much potential he saw in them, under a commander who saw their true value.
Together, they could go far. Very far, indeed.
Azula smiled and said all the things she thought father would have said. Zuko scowled.
Zhao brushed over their arms with his own while reaching for things. He served them more when they said they were already full. He squeezed their shoulders when he brought them back to their rooms, which were next to his, even though the rest of the lower crewmen slept together in the same big cabin. Zuko scowled harder.
Azula was invited back. Zuko wasn’t.
* * *
Zhao was… Zhao wasn’t a good person.
“I know that, dum-dum. But do you want to stay banished forever?”
“Uncle said—”
“Uncle’s going to change his mind, when he has his own heir and a spare. We’re threats, Zuzu. And Zhao knows father’s old friends. He’s one of the smart ones.”
The dumb ones had already been executed.
“I… I think he wants to—to tie himself to the royal line.”
“Eww,” she said. “I’m ten. If he wants to get engaged, I’ll just break it when we’ve got the throne. It will be too late for him to retract his support, then.”
They’d barely left port before Zhao had made his first move. He didn’t seem like a man who waited.
Azula was ten, but Zuko was twelve. Being twelve was almost thirteen, which was almost a teenager, which was almost an adult, and adults understood things that ten year olds didn’t.
They had to get off this ship. They had to go home.
Zuko had to find the Avatar.
* * *
(This ficlet is now posted on AO3.)
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Ride 778: “Hakogaku's sprinter”
Pag 1
1: Izumida-san!!
2: I'll use it
“Hurakan”!!
Pag 4
1: This year's May
2: Ibaraki Prefecture
West Tsukuba
3: Tsukushiba University, located at the foot of the sacred eastern mountain, Mount Tsukuba, at 887m above the sea level
4: In front of the second dormitory building on the campus
5: Basically, Doubashi
You mean you want to race me in a serious sprint battle...
Pag 5
1: Yes, please
This might be a weird way to say it, but
2: In Hakone Academy... among our team, there's no one who can be my opponent!!
3: Alright, then I'll gladly accept!!
4: I, Izumida Touichirou of Tsukushiba University racing club!!
First year at Tsukushiba University, department of science and engineering, former Hakone Academy captain
Pag 6
1: Former Hakone Academy ace sprinter
2: The area around the university is a town, but if you go out of it it's really easy to ride, Izumida-san
3: There's both flats and mountains, it's a good place for biking
4: Did it take long to come to Ibaraki?
5: Coming here from Kanagawa, you have to cross Tokyo, so... yeah
Honestly, I had to change so many trains...!!
Pag 7
1: Is Manami doing alright?
Yeah, he's so carefree, but sometimes he says something serious too!!... I guess?
Sounds like Manami
2: Ngh....!!
3: Dammit.... this is so fun!!
What's this!! We're just riding our bikes and talking, but I've missed this feeling!!
4: When I was a second year and Izumida-san was a third years, we practiced like this every day!!
5: Sometimes Izumida-san was the one who attacked, sometimes it was me, and we pushed each other to our limits
7: It's not the time to smile about this!! I've come here to become stronger!!
Pag 8
1: Sorry, Izumida-san!!
I got too relaxed for a moment!!
3: It's good to relax
That's important, too
5: There's as many roads to ride as we want!!
So, which one is better? You can choose
For today's menu!!
6: An easy course with a 100km run along the roads of Ibaraki and a sprint at the end
Pag 9
1: Or the hard course, cut into section, with a final sprint when we're giving our all!!
4: Of course!! The hard one!!
6: Since it's you
Pag 10
1: I knew it would come to this!!
Abs, read?
2: Go!!
Pag 11
1: Abs, abs, abs, abs, abs!!
Buoooorah!!
Pag 12
1: Buah!!
2: Doubashi!!
You've really gotten stronger!!
3: If it were you from last year, you wouldn't have been able of getting ahead on a short climb like that before!!
4: Izumida-san, you're the one who has powered up!!
I seriously think I'm gonna be torn apart right now!!
5: But this is what I wanted
Pag 13
1: An opponent to race against in a fierce and close battle!!
During that you become stronger, and move to the next stage!!
2: Abs, Doubashi!!
Rise!! With that body!!
3: More....
4: Give me more, Izumida-san!!
6: Alright, I'll show you a sprint that will make you regret those words!!
Pag 14
1: Abs!!
Come!! Masakiyo!!
2: Buooorah!!
Izumida-saaan!!
4: Today was fun
Pag 15
1: Thank you
Well, I'm beat, Izumida-san
2: In the end, I lost at the final sprint
You rode well, you drove me in a corner until then!!
3: Did you see it? Your next stage
Yeah... well, little by little, but...
4: But I'm just a little closer, I feel like I can grasp something, but I can't
5: That's because you're too serious
6: And you're an hardworker
7: You know, there are two types of “right”
Huh
Pag 16
1: There's what's socially right
And what's right for yourself
3: Rules and norms, things that must be observed when living together, are what's socially right
The other
4: are the feelings in your heart you won't give up
6: Actually, both of these are “right”
Pag 17
1: But, sometimes these two go into conflict
2: Feelings....!!
“Feelings are strength”.... Izumida-san said that before
3: When something wrong happens, you end up resorting to violence, you reflexively curse at people
However, what should be restrained is the “action”
4: Not the feelings themselves
5: If you don't like something, you can get angry
6: No but, Izumida-san, if I just blindly do that.....
7: And when you're happy
Pag 18
1: you can honestly smile
2: I got too relaxed for a moment!!
4: There's no need to deny it
Those obvious “feelings” that are boiling inside you!! You can smile because you've missed something
5: The feelings that came out amidst of your own study and research and suffering
Where is the mistakes in that?
6: Even if you took a detour, there's no lie in your hard work!!
8: Release yourself more
Lead the path of your own heart
Pag 19
1: Polish what's right for you!!
2: What's “right”.... for me....!!
3: I understood it riding together with you today
You're already good enough for the next stage
You
Pag 20
1: will become much stronger!!
Buoooo!! Smash through!! “Hurakan”!!
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