#she's about the same height as Zuko

[elitesheepi]

So this is lowkey inspiring me to get off my ass and finish my Mai thesis. Cause despite everything, I loveee Mai. She was always a character I liked cause she was just "cool" to me. Cold, somewhat apathetic personality, her weapon style is awesome. And I agree with you, she's not a stone cold bitch, but I've always read her as apathetic to most things.

She didn't really seem to care about Tom Tom that much, but she made jokes with Azula and let Ty Lee hug her ("Clumps! They're clumps!" scene.) and tease her often. She's snarky, is shown to be a pretty enthusiastic fighter who shit talks with a smile on her face. She's more subtly expressive than outwardly which alot of people glance over.

I think the biggest problem with the perception of Mai comes from, fandom misogyny, fandom flanderization, and the writers not really knowing what story they wanted to convey with her.

Fandom basically writes her as a stone cold goth bitch who's all gloom, doom and hates everyone. (Something shared by the writers of that "I love how you hate the world" scene is anything to go by) and fandom flanderization knocks that up to 11. There's sadly also the fact that some of her moments do come across as adding further to Zuko's angst, and that just paints a further target on her back for fandom hate caus yknow--it's Zuko.

And that last point plus a point I vaguely made--the writers didn't really know how to convey her. Or atleast the point of her and what she brought to the greater narrative. She comes in as the girlfriend during Zuko's lowest, subtly encouraging him to play the roll of the perfect prince while failing to see that that's not what he needs. Then the Beach episode happens which put a deeper knot in the fandom's head that she's kinda a bitch for not being flattered by the seashell and his attempts at giving her ice cream. It just creates a further divide between Mai and the fandom. All of that plus the fact that she just ends the series back together with him despite the lack of redemption arc or even being bothered by what the Fire Nation--I see why people don't like her, but I do agree with you that she's not the ice cold cheating queen the fandom often portrays her as. Her best moments got heavily outshined by her worst and both the writers and the fandom is at fault for that.

i actually can't process why people don't like mai. is it because of the "i just asked if you were cold" scene. is that it. okay LISTEN i will go to bat for her. she says it herself in the beach episode, she's been raised to not share her opinion or like. care about anything. she probably deflects in that moment because it's obviously an emotionally heavy conversation and she's been told her entire life not to share her feelings. or share other people's feelings, tbh.

she's ngl pretty incompatible as a match for zuko, who is constantly full of feelings, and needs someone who can help him work through them in his life, like iroh or katara. but that does not make mai the stone cold bitch y'all haters want her to be. i promise she's fluffy on the inside, the stone cold bitch is but a thin outer shell that protects all the love and care she contains within herself

[burst-of-iridescent]

Hey does everyone remember when Aang physically hurt Katara via burning her due to his own negligence with fire because he didn't listen at all to her concerns? But all of Katara's concerns were her being worried for him getting hurt and not herself, and then he hurts her badly, this never gets addressed again in the show, but I remember this vividly.

i actually like this scene on its own.

aang burning katara is a good character building moment because it's a brutal reminder of his own capacity for destruction. he needs to understand that his reckless actions can have horrific repercussions in order to fully realize the weight of his responsibility as both a firebender and the avatar, and it makes the moment where he uses zhao's recklessness against him more impactful. it also sets up the "water = life, fire = death" dichotomy that's part of katara's arc on viewing the world in binaries, which will later be broken down in book 3.

but ultimately the incident is still of greater significance to aang, and he's the one to bring it up in the guru and western air temple episodes, telling both guru pathik and zuko about his guilt over burning katara and his refusal to firebend ever again. this experience is also what leads him to accept zuko as his firebending teacher, and then finally forgive himself when he learns the true meaning of firebending. for the most part, it's a well-sustained arc and one of the few narratives aang has that is actually brought to completion.

do i wish that katara and aang had actually talked about his actions beyond this episode? yes. do i wish the aftermath had been focused a little more on katara instead of showcasing the impact of her physical injuries mostly through aang's continued self-flagellation? yes. but as a one-off incident contained to a single episode, i don't mind it.

what i do mind, however, is that this is not the last time the show is going to use katara as a lynchpin for aang's character development.

in the book 2 premiere, katara is turned into a pawn to propel aang into the avatar state. in the guru, her imprisonment is the reason that aang chooses to go back to ba sing se instead of unlocking his chakras. that is three separate times now that katara has been damselled in order to facilitate key turning points in aang's narrative, but not once does the same apply in reverse. there is never a moment where aang is the only one put in danger solely to drive katara's arc, the way she is in his. the closest we get is katara bringing aang back to life, but even then his death is still the result of his own choices and more integral to his storyline than hers.

now, compare this to the final agni kai.

at first glance, katara being put in danger just to complete zuko's redemption looks like the same tired trope, and had the scene ended at his sacrifice, it would be. but crucially, it's katara who continues the fight. katara who defeats the scion of fire nation destruction at the height of her power. katara who saves zuko just as he saved her.

in proving herself a master waterbender powerful enough to defeat azula and save someone she loves - someone who sacrificed themselves for her - from fire nation aggression, katara brings her own arc full circle. it is in triumphing over azula by saving each other that zuko and katara become the people they were always meant to be, and so their individual arcs are brought to their narrative culmination through bookending the other. the final agni kai works where the kat.aang moments fall short because it is of equal significance to both zuko and katara's narratives.

obviously, this is not to say that it's bad for certain characters to exist just to drive another character's arc. it's inevitable that some will be written solely to fulfill that purpose because a story only has so much narrative space, and it usually can't - and shouldn't - be divided equally amongst every single character.

but if we're talking about two main characters who end up in a lifelong romantic relationship, and it's the female character being repeatedly damselled to drive the male character's storyline within an already imbalanced dynamic... perhaps it's time to rethink a few things.

[oneatlatime]

The Guru

Happy 2024 everyone and welcome to the first time I managed to type 2024 without first typing 2023! Oh and also a write up of The Guru. That too.

Me too Iroh. Me too.

So Zuko is riding high on that post-crisis 'time to get my life together' buzz that, similar to 3 am life plans, should absolutely not be listened to. Wonder how long before he crashes and burns? There's literally 2 episodes left, so I'm guessing one and a half?

Poor Sokka. My boy's got anxiety.

I don't know if it's a monk thing, an airbender thing, an Avatar thing, or an Aang thing, but I envy his complete lack of nerves.

How is Appa ok with them splitting up for a week after JUST getting them back?

I paused in a funny place. Have bonk-eyed Appa.

I love them comparing heights. What do you want to bet that that guy on the right was one of the youngest allowed to go fight, and Sokka made a big deal about how they're almost the same age and surely that means he can go too, right?

A lot of these Southern Water Tribe people have dreads or braids. That's neat.

Bato's arm is still messed up. That's some good continuity.

I've found the source of Katara's cheek bones. I guess Sokka takes after his mum.

Ok I know this is a really emotional moment (and it is! Sokka's spent two seasons earning this!) but my brain fixated on the furs and briefly thought they were sky bison pelts.

"It's been a difficult week for me." This guy thinks the Kyoshi Warriors are there to provide him therapy. Someone please just crown the bear instead.

He just gave away literally every relevant plot point AND outlined how to make sure all these plot points don't succeed. Crown. The. Bear.

Maybe if these generals spent less time playing with their giant model Earth Kingdom and more time general-ing, the war wouldn't suck so much?

Pretty.

I LOVE LOVE LOVE the designs, the colour palette, the music, the sound design of this air temple. I love everything about it. If I had the chance to live anywhere in the Avatar universe, it would be here. Even in its ruined state it's such a refreshing contrast to the claustrophobia of Ba Sing Se. I can feel the freshness of the breeze through the screen.

"A spiritual brother of your people" an adult perspective on a near extinct culture! What a resource!

"and a personal friend of Monk Gyatso" an old as balls perspective. He's got to be at least 130.

Anthropology cul de sac time: this guy is so valuable as a resource on the Air Nomads. There's probably parts of Air Nomad culture that Aang can't ever accurately talk about, because he was a kid when he left, and there was almost certainly stuff that the adults kept to themselves, or only shared with the older Air Nomads. This Guru doesn't seem to be an Air Nomad himself, but there's a good chance that there is knowledge that he has, that Aang doesn't. Aang should be nerding out more about this. I'll do the nerding out for him.

Aang just breezes right by that Gyatso name drop like it's nothing. Huh.

Oh hey Toph. I'd forgotten she was in a box. Tweedle dum and Tweedle dumber really are quite the pair. What's their plan for keeping her fed and watered? Actually, these guys apparently don't know that maps exist, so it's probably never occurred to them that humans need sustenance. They'll rock up to the Bei Fong estate with corpse Toph and wonder why they aren't getting the reward money.

Mai gets called out in-universe for shopping at Hot Topic.

Ty Lee's buttering up of Azula is getting less and less subtle as the season progresses. It's a testament to Azula's lack of awareness that she's hasn't noticed that, and that Ty Lee can get away with it.

Azula's right that it's an extraordinary opportunity. The King gave them quite literally every piece of info required to overthrow his kingdom in a 25 second conversation. I can't blame her for taking advantage of such an easy win.

That's a very effective unimpressed face. And a very impressive beard.

It's funny to see a spiritual concept from the real world pop up in a show that includes things like bending and giant fish possession. The mention of Chakras kind of sticks out. They couldn't invent a Avatar universe version?

"Once you begin this process, you cannot stop until all seven are open." Well that doesn't feel like foreshadowing at all.

This episode should be called "Aang's self-care Journey." It's about time the kid had a me day that wasn't avoidance-based.

Fear: Losing Katara - makes sense. Losing control of his powers via fish possession - makes sense. The Fire Lord - makes sense. But the Blue Spirit? He helped. Doesn't make sense.

Guilt: Running away - makes sense, although I thought he'd worked through that with Katara in the storm. Nuking that idiot General's base - makes sense, but boy did he quite literally ask for it.

This guru is saying some wonderfully accurate, and realistic, things. I love that he's not taking the Katara route of denying anything is wrong. He's going for the acknowledge, then heal route. And yes, it's unfair of me to compare the emotional maturity of Katara to a century+ old spiritual expert.

I'm going to ruin the immersion here and point out that Sokka's dad's voice actor voiced a bunch of characters in season 1. He's doing an excellent job, but couldn't they get a unique voice for a character that's so important (albeit offscreen) to Sokka?

That's an incredibly roundabout way of avoiding pointing out that the Southern Water Tribe are active participants in a bloody war. Sure, we can show multiple characters with visible scarring from horrific burns, but heaven forbid we imply that the Southern Water Tribe sinks ships. The parameters for what is and isn't appropriate on this show sometimes make no sense.

"Aren't you listening? I said the rest of you men get ready for battle." He hasn't seen his boy in two years, but fifteen minutes in his company and he knows exactly what needs to be said and how. That's some top tier parenting. Dad of the year. Dad of the century. Only decent Dad in this show that isn't technically an uncle.

"Follow your passion Zuko, and life will reward you." Great advice for your eight year old audience. Also a great way to end up unemployed.

Positive Sokka creeped me out a few episodes ago. Now positive Zuko is freaking me out too.

Pretty.

Back to Chakras! Shame: Burning Katara - makes sense. But that's it? To have the inner peace of mind of a twelve year old who's somehow only ever done one thing that he's ashamed of.

Is there anyone in the earth kingdom who isn't stupid? Once again wondering at the network's standards. Visible burn injuries are fine, but Mai can't say 'Shut up." It's got to be Shush up. Although I do seem to recall of brief time in the early 2000s when Shut Up was treated as a curse on par with Shit or Fuck. Maybe that was just at my school.

Chakras again! Even for a show that often has an A, B, and C plot, this narrative is ping ponging around a bit much.

Grief: nothing major, just a whole nation. Makes a horrific amount of sense. but I don't buy that he can get over grieving the whole world as he knew it by thinking about his crush. That's way too high a pedestal for Katara to be placed on.

Lies: Not accepting he's the Avatar. Interesting that not accepting that he's the Avatar and not accepting that he's a firebender are two different problems.

I see you reusing the opening credits footage. Your blue filters can't fool me.

PRETTY

Illusion: So we're relearning what we learned in The Swamp. Aang's probably the person currently alive least likely to believe in the rigid separation of the nations anyway. This doesn't feel like an illusion he's subject to?

The way this episode dances between its narrative threads is so great. It's all woven in so beautifully. And this makes perfect sense! Toph's spent her life secretly doing things excellently that everyone says are completely beyond her capabilities. Life has taught her that the statement "you are not able to" doesn't apply. Of course immutable laws of bending physics are treated with the same respect as an adult telling the champion of the Earth Rumble that she's can't earthbend beyond breathing exercises. If you told her that humans can't fly, she'd figure out how within the week.

Plot collision incoming.

Interesting that Katara initially recognises Zuko by his voice rather than his scar.

I'm pretty sure that Zuko and Iroh don't know about the whole brainwashing thing, but wouldn't it be hilarious if Zuko introduced himself to Katara as Joo Dee, and his uncle Joo Dee, welcome to the Jasmine Dragon, can I take your order? That would throw Katara into one hell of a moral quandary.

Katara being framed as the solution for Chakra number four comes back to bite Aang, as she's the problem in Chakra number seven. I knew that pedestal was too high.

I've changed my mind. This episode should actually be called "Half a dozen reasons why everyone should just learn to keep their goddamn mouths shut already."

So is anyone going to let Zuko and Iroh know that they're now in immediate danger and need to leave, like, yesterday?

I think the Guru is going for the whole 'if you love them, let them go, and they'll come back to you' thing. Don't cling, in other words. But for the sake of the plot he's suddenly lost his ability to explain Chakras in a way that makes them seem like the logical thing to do. The only clunky bit of this episode so far.

May I introduce you to our Lord and Saviour Toph?

"I am the greatest earthbender in the world." Yes. Yep. Yeah. That's now a quantifiable fact, and it's correct. Look on ye mighty and despair. She's even got Bumi beat.

Earth Tongue Running is a bit wonky looking but it covers a crazy amount of distance.

What's the range on Toph's earth sense? Can she sense what direction Ba Sing Se is?

I hope those two idiots' horse bird is ok.

"You don't know how much this means to me dad." He does. Very much so.

Every word out of this guy's mouth is precision engineered to make Sokka feel like a million bucks and I for one think it's about time someone built him up. Also, seeing this makes me realise how few good parents there are in this show. It's a trope of kids' adventure shows that the parents fundamentally can't be there, but I also think it's a commentary on yet another thing that this war has messed up.

Hey look! Being a man is knowing where you're needed the most, and right now that's in Ba Sing Se, protecting your sister! I love narratives that tie their themes up with a pretty bow on top.

This is Azula laying a trap, right? Which means that Katara squealed to someone about the exact location of Iroh and Zuko's tea shop. Don't like the implications of that.

Photos taken seconds before disaster.

Final Thoughts

This episode was a lot! I mean that in a good way! But I felt a bit like the Maxell Blown Away Guy, the way I kept getting assaulted by yet another plot thread. Don't get me wrong, this isn't a criticism. I think the switching between plot threads and the amount of info in this episode worked 99% of the time. But I'm kind of in awe at the balancing act the writers pulled off and I'm sort of sitting here blinking a bit trying to fit all this stuff in my head. I'm probably going to forget half the stuff I wanted to talk about in this write up, so here goes nothing.

Given the Azula reveal in at the end of last episode, I thought that this would be the episode where the shit hits the fan. I was wrong. I'm glad I was wrong. An episode of set up is required and is nice breathing room, even an episode as busy as this. And I got to leave Ba Sing Se! But this does mean that next episode is going to be calamity after calamity.

Aang and his Chakras: I'm fascinated by this guru. I hope he comes back. That brings the total number of people who were alive before the war started up to three: Aang, Bumi, Guru Patik.

I'm impressed that the run through of the Chakras rarely felt like an info dump. The onion and banana juice thing didn't work for me, but I'm sure it worked for people in the target age bracket. Kids love burp jokes.

So many shows sprinkle in tragic backstories for flavour and then never have them influence the character in the present. It was a nice contrast to see a show take a whole episode to tell Aang "yeah all that sucked. It's ok to feel down about it. Here's how you move forward."

Sokka and his dad: Love it. Love it so much. I love seeing Sokka built up, and he definitely deserves it, but I wonder if this is the reward for a character arc well done, or the set up for a character arc that's about to start? Is his dad's praise his prize for crossing the finish line, or is it so he's built up with farther to fall?

I loved seeing more of the Southern Water Tribe. I loved the fashion. There's a lot of variety in accessories and variations on a few basic elements like those knee guard things. I loved their hairstyles. I loved how cozy and communal that command tent felt. I loved their ships. I wonder how often these guys work out, that they can make loading ramps that are presumably deployed and stashed out of the way frequently, out of whole logs rather than planks. I have a bone to pick with the child-friendly sea mine. But it provides a good set up for a dad joke, so I'll let it slide.

Zuko and Iroh: Of course the one time Zuko is allowed to be in a good place, it's so that he and Iroh both have farther to fall when the inevitable happens. Poor guy just can't catch a break. I'd be mad at Azula for the party crashing that I'm assuming she'll do next episode, but it's been established that Zuko has all nice things taken away from him as soon as he gets them, and I can't blame Azula for being a tool of the universe.

Azula & Long Feng: Azula's acting in Long Feng's prison cell was miles ahead of what Long Feng was doing in front of the Earth King, so I'm wondering if Long Feng has bitten off more than he can chew. Also: conspiring with the enemy to bring down your own city just so you can reinstall yourself as the power behind the throne that will presumably cease to exist as soon as the Fire Nation takes control? That is both treasonous beyond description and an incredible case of shooting yourself in the foot. What's Long Feng's plan here?

Toph and the Dunderheads: it says something about the consistency of Toph's characterisation from her introduction onwards that she breaks the universe this episode and my reaction was "that's neat." It's obviously a huge moment, but of course Toph can do that. Toph can do anything. More importantly, Toph knows that Toph can do anything, so Toph routinely does do anything, especially things she shouldn't be able to do. If you had asked me a few episodes back which character would be most likely to fundamentally redefine bending, I would have said Toph, since she's already fundamentally redefined bending with her earth sense sonar vision.

Also Toph just breaks stuff. Things that come into contact with her cease to function as intended and instead function as Toph requires. Look at the two idiots: both successful business owners, one also a successful hoodwinker of the richest family around. But they come into contact with Toph and their brains take an extended vacation.

Katara & the Generals: this plot was more like an extension of Azula's plot than its own standalone thing. You can't blame her for spilling the news about Zuko and Iroh to someone she honestly thought was Suki. Not much else to say about it, although it's cute that she asks for a table for two at the tea shop. Momo gets a chair!

I like that there's a theme this episode of things going wrong despite the best intentions. No one's acting maliciously here apart from the Antagonists. The Earth King is having an honest chat with people he thought were friends. Sokka vouched for people he honestly thought were the Kyoshi Warriors. Katara shares information about a presumed threat with people she honestly thought were her allies. You can quibble with the wisdom of some of these decisions, but there were all done with good intentions. The best laid plans of mice and men oft go awry and all that. It brings to mind that Star Trek quote about how you can do everything right and still lose. And this set up is going to hit harder when whatever goes wrong next episode happens. And something will go wrong. A few months ago I figured that the Season 2 finale would be a triumph, but all signs are pointing towards a tragedy instead.

This episode was visually stunning, the soundtrack in the Air Temple sections especially was very evocative, and I applaud the minds that could juggle that many plot threads at once without dropping any. This one is definitely going on my rewatch list.

[writermai05]

Arsonist's Lullabye

Chapter 2: Wasteland, Baby!

Summary: Y/n makes new friends, and Zuko….tries. 

Pairing: Zuko x fem! reader (Live Action or Animated) 

A/N: Not “this is me trying” starting to play as I was writing Zuko’s pov…Anyways, this is a long chapter, which is why it took me so long to write. I was struggling a bit, but I think it came out good! I would love any feedback / constructive criticism to help me improve on the story. 

Word Count: 1,897

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Avatar: The Last Airbender, I am merely a nerd who hyperfixates a lot. Lots of divergence from the canon story lol. 

Warnings !: Zuko is insecure, Mentions of bullying, I think that’s it? 

Y/n was excited to start classes. After all, she was a social butterfly, floating around from person to person like flowers in a garden.  Her morning sociology class was pretty small for a lecture, but it was full of interesting new people. 

But there was one person who stood out to her most. A girl with jet black hair, held in a bun at the top of her head with a gold pin, and golden eyes with an intensity enough to make even the most powerful cower. She wore a bright red long sleeved top under a black tank top, with matching black pants and black leather boots. She stood strongly, and with perfect posture. But Y/n noticed how she stood off to the side of the room, all by herself. Maybe the girl was intentionally avoiding people? Y/n thought. Or maybe, the mere aura of this girl was strong enough to deter people away from her. Either way, Y/n was intrigued. 

As their classmates mingle about, asking the same two questions over and over again, Y/n quietly snuck next to the girl. She took notice of her height. If the girl’s hair was down, the two of them would be about the same height. Y/n quietly took in her presence in an attempt to learn more about her.

“Who are you?” The girl snapped, looking Y/n up and down, sizing her up. 

Y/n brushed off the hostile advance as if it were nothing.  “I’m Y/n. I’m a second year psychology major. And you?” 

The girl appeared a little surprised. Perhaps she was used to people being scared, or intimidated by her. 

“...Azula.” The girl replied. 

Y/n nodded. “Well Azula, what is your year and major?” 

“I’m a first year business administration major…”  Azula responded, clearly uninterested in the rest of the conversion. Y/n wasn’t an idiot. She could tell when people were not in the mood to converse. 

“Well, it’s nice to meet you Azula. If you actually feel like talking, I’ll be over there.” And with that, Y/n left, fluttering away to a brand new person on the other side of the lecture hall, leaving Azula thoroughly confused, and kind of impressed. 

~

When Katara and Y/n had lunch last friday, the younger girl had insisted that Y/n had lunch with her, Sokka, and their friends. To which Y/n happily accepted, of course. 

The dining hall buzzed with high spirits as students lined up to get their lunch. Looking out amongst the crowd, she spotted the group of friends, their laughter and their energetic conversations added to the noise within the room. 

Sokka was the first to spot her, “Y/n!” He said, bringing the girl to the group's attention. There were 5 of them at the table, an air-nomad boy sat next to Katara, and next to him sat a short girl in green, then Sokka, and another girl next to him. 

“You guys this is Y/n, my mentor for the scholarship program Sokka and I are a part of!” Katara took hold of Y/n’s arm, leading her to sit in between her and the taller girl. The girl in question smiled at y/n. 

“Nice to meet you y/n! I’m Suki-”

“My girlfriend!” Sokka cut her off in an excited tone. Suki narrowed her eyes at Sokka, making the boy reel it back a little. 

“Yes. I am indeed Sokka’s girlfriend. That’s Toph and Aang, Katara’s boyfriend.” Suki pointed at the short girl and the air-nomad boy. Aang smiled while Toph gave a little nod of her head. 

“It’s so nice to meet you guys. Katara and Sokka talk about you a lot.” Y/n said with a smile. 

“So Y/n, what do you like to do?” Toph asked curiously, her unseeing eyes trailing around the area where y/n sat. 

“Well, I’m a psych major, and I minor in Water Tribe studies. I practice water-bending sometimes too..” Y/n trailed off. 

“You’re a water-bender? Why didn’t you mention it before?” asked Katara. 

Y/n Shrugged. “I’m not very good. Plus my parents are kinda…disconnected from that part of our culture.” 

The group nodded in sympathy. The rapid urbanization of their nations left no room for things like the practice of bending. Nowadays, only the rich, as well as some members of the Water Tribe, continue to teach their children bending. It was almost more common for people to not know bending than to know it.  

Amidst the clinking of utensils and the hum of conversation, the group of friends savored their lunch, grateful for the simple things. They rattled on about going to Toph’s Power Disc game next week, and watching Suki in the Kyoshi color guard. Out of the corner of her eye, Y/n saw a certain cashier. She turned her head to look at him completely, which grabbed the attention of Katara. 

“Ugh. Zuko.” She said with a roll of her eyes. 

Y/n perked at the mention of his name. “You guys know him?” 

“Unfortunately, yes. Why do you ask? ” Katara stabbed into her food, causing Aang to put a hand on her shoulder, calming her down. 

“I met him at the Jasmine Dragon.” Y/n explained vaguely. Based on the reactions around the table, she knew she probably should not have asked about him.

“We went to high school together…He wasn’t the nicest back then.” Aang explained. 

Sokka scoffed at Aang’s passivity.

“He burnt Toph’s feet. He literally shoved you into a locker! That’s like, some shit you’d see in a mover!” Sokka exclaimed in an over the top fashion. 

Toph shrugged, “That was an accident. We were sparring in PE-”

“Toph, you’re a 5 foot tall blind girl-”

“Hey! I’m 5’1!” 

Aang tried his best to get his friends to settle down. 

“Okay that’s enough. Sokka, weren’t you and Zuko in the same class last year? He wasn’t mean to you then right?”

“Maybe because he was embarrassed from completely bombing his first year of classes-”

Aang’s eyes widened, “Katara!” 

“What? It’s true.” She said matter of factly. 

Suki was the one to get the group to settle down. 

“That’s enough you guys.” 

Now was probably an awful time for Y/n to mention Zuko was very nice when they had met the previous week. Instead, she opted to sit quietly, pondering all the information she had just learned. 

~

Zuko was mortified. 

Of course Y/n was friends with the people he tormented. Of course they had mattered to shoot down any chances of friendship between him and Y/n. Of course, he would never get a chance to finally make amends with Aang and his friends. He knew for a fact he had done this to himself, and yet he couldn’t help but immediately blame the circumstances that had followed him up until this point. 

As he walked into his next class, Zuko began to feel an unprompted sense of dread overwhelm him. 

Oh. That’s why. 

Low and behold, sitting right in front of him was the girl he had served at the boba shop mere days ago. The girl that had literally just listened to Aang and his friends completely dragged him about his past behavior. 

Y/n made eye contact with him, her eyes filling with warm recognition. She smiled at him, giving a small wave. Zuko quickly averted contact, sitting as far away as he could with the limited seats left in class. He tried his best to avoid catching her gaze, but it was useless, because she was staring at him now. Each time their eyes met each other's, Zuko's would dart to the floor, in an attempt to not feel the heavy weight of his past transgressions on his conscience.  

It worked for about 15 minutes, before the professor grouped everyone in the class up to talk. Of course, it was just his luck that his stupid professor would group Y/n and him as a pair. 

“Just talk with your partner a little about yourselves. I really encourage you to get to know one another, as you will be with these people for the rest of the year.” Their professor had said. 

Yeah, thanks. 

The tension between the two was palpable. Zuko refused to make conversation, simply nodding at everything that Y/n would tell him. He assumed it would be better if they kept the conversation minimal, maybe then she didn’t have to pretend to want to know more about him. 

However, Y/n was starting to get annoyed. What was going on? This is literally what she had wanted, and yet Zuko sat there, pretending to care about what she was saying. 

“What is your deal?” She asked bluntly, shocking Zuko, and even herself a little, with the brash tone she had taken up. 

“What is my deal? What is your deal?” he fired back, as if he were a child retorting to a schoolyard taunt. 

“Are you even paying attention to what I’m saying? If you don't want to talk, you should just say something. You don’t have to go the extra mile to ignore me for virtually no reason?’

“Why are you talking to me?” he spat back at her. 

Y/n looked at him with dismay. “Because I can? Do I need a reason?” 

“Well after the conversation you and your friends had at the dining hall, I figured there was no reason you’d want to.” Y/n noticed the way Zuko pulled back after he said that. He once again looked everywhere else but at her. 

“I’m sorry.” said Zuko. 

He knew this was a mistake. He should have never tried in the first place. Silence overtook the two of them for a minute. 

“Look, I don’t know what happened between all of you. But this is all new to me, and I don’t know how exactly to navigate this. I forgive you for being an asshole just now.” Y/n was being honest, but she couldn’t quite tell whether or not Zuko had understood. 

“Time’s up! Back to your seats.” Their professor proclaimed as the timer chirped a loud, annoying, song. 

Feeling like a kicked puppy, Zuko began to gather his things and return to his seat. But not before Y/n reached out and grabbed his wrist. 

“How about we sit next to each other on wednesday? We’ll talk more then?” She raised her eyebrows expectantly. 

Zuko was confused. Had she not realized just how fucked up of a person he is? Why isn’t she giving up?

“Okay…” he responded with a curt nod. 

She gave a gentle smile, nodding her own head. “Okay.” 

With that, she let go of his hand, letting Zuko walk away. He stared at the wrist that she had held onto. Her grasp was gentle, but unyielding and it had felt like a jolt of lightning against his scarred skin. 

Y/n had felt the roughness of his scarred skin underneath her fingertips, her eyes trailing Zuko as he walked away. She found herself even more curious about him than before. 

Within the wasteland of his mind, Zuko picked up the pieces of all his hopes and dreams, for maybe a secret oasis could finally be found in Y/n’s kindness. Maybe, his luck was beginning to change. 

[lilbagdermole]

Hello! It's always great to meet another Taang shipper!

What do you love most about Taang?

I hope you have a great day!!!

Hey!!

Oh, it's so nice to see that Taang is still loved by so many people (and it's always really nice to see active blogs about them ^^)

What do I love most about Taang?

I love their dynamics. They bounce off each other almost harmoniously, because they are opposites in so many aspects of their lives: beliefs and morals, elements, backgrounds and childhoods. They clash and struggle and are far from perfect, yet, no matter how big the storm, how complex the disagreement - they always reconcile, they always listen to one another, they always learn and grow and strive to become better people. They respect one another so much to work around their oppositions and thus balance and understand one another in ways that no other member of the ATLA cast can replicate (with Aang and Toph).

And though they are natural opposites, they still have so much in common if you delve deeper. Aang and Toph are the youngest in the Gaang - and share the same love for teasing and joking; they share a very deep connection with the the original benders of their respective elements (Toph with the Badgermoles and Aang with Appa); they both runaway from their homes at a young age because of paramount expectations; both are masters of their bending - even inventing a new form/bending style at 12 years-old (air scooter and metalbending).

Aang represented all Toph needed in her life - freedom, loyalty, companionship and a friend. He saw her beyond her perceived weakness and never underestimated her capabilities as an earthbender and his potential master. He taught her to trust and confide, understood her when no other person did and soften the hard edges that she'd constructed to protect herself from her suffocating reality. In a sense, Aang was a breath of fresh air in her life.

Toph, on the other hand, represented all Aang needed - stability, confidence, strength. Aang, being the Avatar, had been coddled and protected by almost everyone - Katara, Sokka, admirers, etc. He wasn't Aang, he was a symbol - a symbol of hope and peace. But Toph didn't care about his divine-like power, didn't care that everyone around him praised the very ground he stepped on - in Toph's perspective, Aang was Aang. A kid just like her and she treated him as equals; never afraid of pushing him to further his growth; she taught him to stand his ground, face his enemies head on, become a stronger, confident bender. She was the ground that anchored him to the mortal world and made him feel normal.

It's also poetic, in the finale - Toph is in the air whilst Aang is mostly on Earth. And, may I add, that at the end, whilst Zuko and Katara ultimately did teach him plenty so he could face the Firelord, Aang's preferred bending style, that was not his own, was Earthbending. The element that had once stumped him, frustrated him; the hardest element to master, his opposite... and now, he used it to protect himself, to shield and fight. He used every technique Toph taught him - rock armor, crushing earth, even seismic sense... Toph ultimately saved Aang during the Finale.

I can go on and on about them, but I'm in the midst of writing a dissertation on Toph and Aang's development and potential in ATLA - so I'll save most of my thoughts for that whenever I get to completing it.

And... let's be honest. Aang and Toph together just look so beautiful. They would be the IT COUPLE in ATLA - their canonical height difference should be reason enough to stan Taang. Avatar and The World's Greatest Earthbender... come on now! And it would just fit right - Aang as an adult would have to travel the world and Toph would gladly travel alongside him since she doesn't have a "home" (Aang is her home); and, as adults they could built Republic City from the ground up whilst also balancing raising a family... UGH! IT WOULD HAVE BEEN SO GOOD!!!

[bellatrixobsessed1]

A Kinder World

Summary: Azula wakes up from a coma to a different world than the one that she had known.

Everything has changed.

From the grander things like Caldera City and Ba Sing Se—the world as a whole to the smaller things; her friends, her family, that statue in front of the palace…

She could still hear them. And she thinks that they knew that she could. Otherwise they wouldn’t have been talking to her. Especially for such a long time. Zuko had told her about the more profound changes; how lightningbending is more widespread, how it is in the beginning stages of being used to replace candles and torches. How there is a new city called Republic City and how the buildings are shaped and crafted very differently. How there are blueprints for new means of transportation and how parts of the palace have been renovated. Apparently he has a dragon now and he has been saving it’s twin for her. 

But he never thought to tell her about how she has changed. 

For some reason she had expected to wake up exactly the same. 

Azula doesn’t exactly recognize herself at first. She looks mostly the same, but just different enough to feel a sense of detachment. A distance from herself that may take some time to bridge.

They have been kind to her though; they kept her well fed, her hair silky and glossy, and painted her nails. Nails that could use a trim. They haven’t bothered with makeup but she is nicely dressed and her skin has seen sunlight.

She is older, significantly so, she can see that much on her face—in the accentuation of her cheekbones and in the length of her hair. She isn’t much taller but she has gained some height, maybe an inch or two. 

She plucks a necklace off of her dresser, the one with the citrine dragon pendant on a golden chain. The one that looks upon her with ruby eyes. It hasn’t seen her in years. Almost a decade, according to Zuzu.

She clasps it around her neck and lets it rest against a chest that is more supple than she remembers. She grits her teeth and drums her fingers upon the dresser. She could dress those fingers in glimmering rings. Could fix a bracelet or two around her wrists. 

She feels her earlobes and deduces that she will have to get them repierced. 

She supposes that this is good enough for now. 

She doesn't bother with her old armor, she knows that it will be a size or two too small. She swallows. She is a woman now. A woman whose mind has yet to catch up.

She touches her fingers to her cheeks, if only just to confirm again that this face does belong to her. 

She takes a breath and exhales. She supposes she should go greet everyone. Zuko had said that they are all waiting. That, in light of things, there are no hard feelings. At the very least they would be putting hard feelings aside until she has a chance to reacclimate to the world.

But Azula isn't sure that she is ready to see so many faces that she had once known so well look so different. The Avatar and the earthbender will be particularly jarring. But not nearly as much as looking upon her own altered reflection.

“Are you ready yet?” Zuko asks.

He has a beard now. And his hair…its so long.

Azula nods.

It is a lie. She doesn't think that she can be ready.

She picks up her hair ribbon and curls it around her pointer. At least she has that going for her; her bangs are no longer a choppy, unsightly mess.She finds herself frowning nonetheless. 

“Am I…really awake?” 

She knows that nobody had expected her to do so. 

And she has had this dream before—a sensation of waking only to find that she had simply been walking about a dream rendition of her life. The life outside of her mind. 

Zuko nods. “You’re awake, Azula.”

“How does it feel?” TyLee appears in the doorway. TyLee looks different too. Her face isn’t as soft, she is really tall now. Perhaps taller than Mai unless Mai has grown too. She feels so small in comparison. The coma has probably stunted her growth, or maybe she was just meant to be small like Iroh. She brings her attention back to TyLee. TyLee who still wears pink but speaks with a deeper vocal quality. TyLee who still wears the smile that Azula has always known but now wears her hair down and loose. 

Azula feels dizzy.

She presses her lips together. “I’m not sure…I haven’t decided.”

.oOo.

Sometimes she misses the world in her head. That strange place that could have had some tether to the spirit world. 

She misses its strange colors that are also taste and sound. She misses its smells that also come as images flickering over the visual stimuli that exists without odor.

She misses the music. Those bizarre melodies spoken in tounges that she used to be fluent in but can possibly hope to comprehend now. She misses those soft, scintillating voices that whispered kind and reassuring things to her.

Mostly, Azula misses the sense of freedom. The lack of stress. 

People don't ask questions there. They leave her be. It isn't quite as overwhelming.

She never felt out of place nor left behind.

She hasn't been abandoned and she can't say that the world left her behind. But it did move forward and progress without her. 

Most days this leaves her feeling adrift and purposeless. Leaves her wondering where she fits into the strange but familiar land.

She is well aware that she should be further than where she is. That she should think like a grown woman. She wants to. But she hasn’t lived enough to be able to. Katara and Aang talk about their children. Toph talks about her children too and is far too open about how those children have come to exist. Mai is pregnant. Sokka talks about drinking and his job as a councilman. They all speak of adventure and memories that she doesn’t share. 

She should have a job. 

She should have achievements. 

These have been stolen from her. 

Zuko promises that she will catch up. If anyone can reclaim ten years in less time than ten years, it would be her. But Azula isn’t so sure. She hates how insecure and self-conscious it makes her feel. 

It isn’t as though she could control that she had been comatose. At least that’s what Zuko tries to insist. 

But it is her fault; she had demanded the Agni Kai that had caused her brain injury. The one that she doesn’t remember. 

She only knows that it happened via word of mouth. She gets her proof and her reminder when she brushes her hair, when she parts the strands in just the right way, to reveal the scar on her scalp. She asked Zuko if it had been bloody. His lack of answer is itself an answer. 

She had gone to visit the spot. 

They have long since torn up and replaced that pavement, taking with it any trace of her suffering. 

It is morbid anyhow, probably better that she hadn’t seen. 

.oOo.

She is still ten years behind, twenty years later. Everyone around her seems to think that this is a good thing. She has more energy, more curiosity. A zest for life that hasn’t faded with age and having experienced things already. 

So far, TyLee has been her favorite experience. The woman’s touch on her body. The woman’s taste on her tongue. These days, she finds the most pleasure in simply intertwining their fingers or letting TyLee rest her head on her chest. 

She feels as though she should have experienced love before falling into a coma. Better late than never, she supposes.

She has a job now. 

Several of them. 

She enjoys working.

She is an advisor and a council woman. A singer and a healer of sorts. Although healer might be the wrong term���she does the research and the studying so that healers can perform new methods of healing. So perhaps she should call herself a scientist. She likes studying the brain and how injuries impact it. 

She enjoys that job the most, but singing is rather charming too. 

She feels like she is ten years behind but she has caught herself up, at least where careers are concerned. 

Emotionally, she isn’t so sure. She always feels as though she is so much younger than everyone. Agitatingly naive in some ways. 

At least these days she no longer feels unsettled and disoriented when she sees her own face. It has become familiar again. And the palace has long since stopped being daunting.

She rolls onto her side and presses her forehead against TyLee’s. TyLee raises a hand and brushes her hair aside. Her finger traces the line of Azula’s scar. She has acquired more of those through the years. Mostly the product of years and years of lightningbending. 

“I’m glad that you woke up.”

TyLee says that every now and again. And it still makes Azula feel tickly and teary eyed. She had been so sure that everyone had been glad that she was gone and that she had inconvenienced them by waking up. 

TyLee kisses her forehead. 

She is also glad that she had woken up.

And that she had awoke to a kinder world.

[azure-firecracker]

ATLA Live Action Stream of Consciousness (Episode 6, Part 2).

THE AANG/ZUKO HEIGHT DIFFERENCE!

This section is basically a copy of the original show which is why I have no problems with it lmao.

Zhao’s poor scribe is just trying to do his job.

Tell me why Zuko is better at sword fighting than all of these adults.

TEAMWORK!! FORESHADOWING!!

I want to marry a Yuyan archer part 2.

Ooh a longer Aang/Zuko convo? It’s all generic and I don’t care I like it anyway.

Aang being cute and funny is everything I need. He needs to do more of it.

Of course Zuko has a favorite kind of pen.

Their friendship is everything to me.

“Of course it’s what everyone expects of me” ME ON THE FLOOR! (I like that we know it’s not what Zuko really wants-what he wants is way more complicated. Same goes for Azula but she’s not here and I doubt they’ll give her something like this).

Oh Aang Zuko isn’t ready to be better yet.

Zuko your trauma is showing.

Agni Kai flashback.

THEY GAVE BABY AZULA BANGS?!?! Amazing decision.

Ozai are you actually mad rn? (In the OG it seemed like he was asserting his power rather than really caring).

Ooh Iroh’s trying to intervene that’s an interesting take.

I knew Zuko was going to fight and unlike the rest of the fandom I don’t have strong feelings about it. It’s clear he only fights back because he thinks that’s what Ozai wants.

Azula definitely looks concerned/in shock in these shots imo. I do like that change from the original show since they’re showing her humanity.

Nice callback on “compassion is a sign of weakness.”

Azula’s expression during the Agni Kai with Zuko and Ozai is the same one she had on when Ozai burned the spy in episode 3. I think it’s dissociation mostly, not wanting to acknowledge what’s happening or having to not process it because she knows it could happen to her. (Or a trauma response)

How did Iroh get his hair bun back?

Zuko does care too much Iroh’s right.

Ozai playing fake nice in this scene is chilling, and a welcome update.

“Sometimes the weak can become stronger. Sometimes you have to give them a chance.” Zuko we know you’re talking about yourself (still a great line though)

URSA MENTION?! I need more fire family flashbacks if they get book 2.

Does Ozai think this is good parenting?

I knew the 41st was Zuko’s crew already but I love that change just like everyone else.

Zuko saying “I’m fine” is peak teenager core.

Zuko and Iroh are giving parent child here.

This is a great scene with the crew it’s so sweet.

This episode has Zuko crying too much it’s not good for me.

I like the theme of friendship in this little monologue. If they’d build up the gaang’s friendship more it would mean more to me.

Wait what happened to Gyatso? I don’t get it.

The parallel father figure narrations in episodes 5 and 6 are good.

Zuko’s mirror bit ofc reminded me of Azula’s mirror in book 3.

THAT WAS A GOOD LAST LINE!

[geothewriter]

Zutara Week 2023 - Day 3: Union

Attending Sokka and Suki’s wedding on Kyoshi island was meant to be a joyous excursion from Zuko’s duties as Fire Lord. Indeed, he indulged himself in the fine wines unique to the island, and spoke at great length with his friends. A massive storm extended the five day excursion to seven, as the harbor was battered by wild waves and typhoon winds. Not even the Avatar’s efforts could quell the raging storm, and after fighting with nature for hours on the fifth day, he retired to a well protected home inland, along with the rest of the group who were visiting for the wedding. 

Luckily for them, the storm held out until after Sokka and Suki’s vows and subsequent reception on the fourth day. Witnessing the pair’s union added a cherry on top of the idea that Zuko had made the right choices in the war, and in life. If only he hadn’t felt so alone, he wouldn’t be in the predicament he currently found himself. 

Before the fledgling Fire Lord sat a young woman with beautiful flowing brown locks of hair. He sat behind her, attempting to braid the mane into a traditional Fire Nation style unsuccessfully for fifteen minutes. Distraction continually weaved its way into his mind, with thoughts of how nice the hair felt running through his fingers, or how it felt wrong to see the exposed nape of her neck when he pulled the hair into a different style. 

The thoughts weren’t necessarily new to him, but being trapped with her by a raging typhoon in a tiny home in a foreign land wasn’t helping. He needed to leave before he said something stupid. He wasn’t ready for his mind to speak words he may regret later, and besides, this was an event to honor Suki and Sokka’s union, not just any old get-together. 

The pair shared the one room house and talked, laughed, and played games of pai sho. They spoke of their adventures during the war, and the years following. Katara had expressed interest in becoming an ambassador to one of the other nations at one point, and Zuko jokingly offered a spot in the Fire Nation. She never responded to his offer, instead she chose to ponder it quietly for some time. 

Zuko gave brief notes of how frustrating it had become to deal with his advisors, council, and just about everyone else at the palace. He missed having just their old group around to solve problems. He mentioned that he even missed the stressful final days of the war, with how close everyone had grown. 

The sixth night, at the height of the storm, the pair found themselves huddled up as lightning crashed and thunder echoed outside. The winds howled as they attempted to find sleep. At some point in the long night, Zuko heard her voice near to him, seeming to be practicing some set of lines. He feigned sleep, not trusting his tongue to keep quiet.

"I’d love to be an ambassador to the Fire Nation. Would you really have me? No. Sure, Zuko being ambassador there sounds like fun. No.. If I became ambassador, would we be able to be together? I’ll wait for you, but it’s so hard to see you struggle by yourself when I can help. We could get through it all together."

A chill shot down his spine as he realized she felt the same as he had for only the spirits know how long. He’d officially ask her in the morning. To be his or to be the ambassador, he wasn’t sure; probably both. Either way, it would be a grand union between their two nations, a union of nations grown out of a union between friends.

If you like my writing, check out my other works over on AO3!

@zutaraweek

[hello-nichya-here]

Is it possible that Zuko was projecting onto Jin a crush he had on Azula?

They look similar-ish. They both have dark hair, somewhat round faces and the top of their noses is soft and also round. They have very expensive and dominative eyes and eyebrows and similar figures. According to Atla wiki they are the same age and from what it looks like they have similar height.

Also, their behaviors... Jin appears to be confident and dominative. She's doing better than Zuko even if their situations are similar (refugees in the lower ring). She has found things about her environment that she likes (the fountain) and us making the best of what us going on in her life. Doesn't this sound similar to how he and Azula was back in the palace?

Plus, they both shamelessly teased him, Jin about his stupid hair, failed joggling performance and how generally awkward he was being and Azula about... Well... Everything 🤷‍♀️

I rest my case

Well, my friend, there are two very suspicious things regarding Zuko's date with Jin. The first one is this:

And the second being the fact that as Zuko turns around to see Jin standing right behind him, we hear a chime - the same chime of AZULA's theme.

Using AZULA'S theme for a girl Zuko had assumed was a threat, but ended up just having a thing for him is... a choice.

[olivetreehugger]

introducing: dispatches from republic city

Hey any and all Bolin fans! I recently rewatched LoK and it reignited my love of this universe. About 10 years ago, I sort of latched onto a side character and shipped her with Bolin, but it never became anything until now. I have started writing this story, "dispatches from republic city" about Bolin and this side character, who I have named Tanana or "Nani" for short. I will place a link below for a separate post regarding this character and why I am shipping her with Bolin.

But for story's sake, I headcanon that Nani sounds like Susan Egan (she played Meg in Hercules and Rose Quartz in Steven Universe! Her singing voice is similar, but I also headcanon that she sounds like Annapantsu on Youtube-she's INCREDIBLE!). In the show, her height isn't well established, in some gifs she's the same height as the other girls, other times she is the same height as Tahno? So I'm dubbing her a solid 5'7, while Bolin started the show at a nice 5'8 and seems to have grown a bit taller? Just look at him compared to Mako in Book 4 and tell me he hasn't gotten taller! In my fic, he's 5'10.

anyways, moving on. This story takes place post-Book 4, but I've made some changes. I've always been a Makorra gal, don't get me wrong we love the gays in this house but frankly I never got the appeal of Korrasami. I won't get into why right now, I just always loved Makorra and that will never change. Oh, and call me bitter but in this world, Zuko and Katara got together *cough*. It really won't be mentioned, but it is my head canon and I'm sticking to it.

in this story, Mako and Korra have recently gotten back together, but the actual narrative doesn't focus on them too much. The story is strictly from Nani's perspective, with only one possible chapter dedicated to Bolin's POV. We'll see how it fleshes out!

See below for chapter one of "dispatches from republic city"!

dispatches from republic city

chapter one: once a wolfbat

rating: M for sex and violence, language and eventual S/A

The sound of the lunch gong split through the air like a cannon, just as Tanana barreled into the kitchen of Mama Chen’s Dumpling Joint. She hurriedly tied her apron around her waist.

She glanced up at the clock and winced. 15 minutes late!

Any minute now, Mama Chen would burst through the swinging door, ranting and raving about her repeated tardiness.

The scent of sizzling pork fat and vegetables wafted through the air, making Tanana’s mouth water. Her stomach growled knowingly. She hadn’t had single thing to eat today.

Slyly, she ducked past the fry cooks and swiped a bun from the platter next to them and stuffed it into her mouth so no one would see. She then glided towards the back of the kitchen, near the freezer, and spent a few quiet moments savoring her stolen meal.

This was now a daily routine. She’d work from noon until midnight—at least, that’s what her timecard would reflect. Tanana, or Nani, as she preferred--was usually at Mama Chen’s from about 12 pm to 2am the next day, spending an extra two hours clearing out the drunks, teenagers and straddlers while simultaneously helping to close for the next day. She would then stuff her bag with whatever leftovers (whatever she could hide, anyways), and walk to The Bookkeeper’s apartment where she stayed. She’d eat, leave the rest of in the ice box for the old lady, and then collapse wherever she could before waking up and starting the day all over.

All for two yuan a day, though if she charmed the right customer, she might get lucky and score a decent tip.

Ever since Kuvira’s mecha-weapon destroyed the downtown area, people moved in droves to the outer neighborhoods, meaning there was less of everything to go around-including work. For many, it was a struggle just to keep their heads above water. For Nani, it was an ice cold wake up call.

As she chewed and swallowed the rest of the salty dough, the brunette wiped a dribble of oil from her chin with the corner of her apron. Without missing another beat, she picked up a tray of discarded dirty dishes and began her work.

The mix of steam, oil, and body odor marinated in Nani’s hair and skin as she worked alongside the other unfortunates around her. She didn’t bother to learn their names, why would she? After all, Nani wasn’t here to make friends. And none of these people were “friend-material”, anyway.

They all seemed to have a silent agreement, though-as long as no one snitched on the other, they all kept to themselves.

Well, some of them did, anyway.

As another invisible fixture of the kitchen, Nani usually got a front row seat to the hushed confessions of the degenerates around her: the ones who cheated on their spouses, the ones who stole money from their parents to buy opium, the ones who got pregnant and left their babies in the woods.

Hearing such tantalizing gossip would leave a person reeling, bursting at the seams as they waited to regurgitate the story to another person, but not Nani.  She’d learned a long time ago that being a snitch was a stupid form of suicide, and she had the scar to prove it.

Her life was otherwise an exhausting blur—what was a little gossip to pass the time? She would be lying if she said it didn’t give her a delightful thrill of power to know what made people stir at night, what made them ache from the inside out. To know that others were awful human beings meant she wasn’t as awful as she thought. And that was nice to believe, if only briefly.

The hours seemed to fly by quickly as Nani scrubbed, wiped and swept every inch of the kitchen. She wiped a few drops of perspiration from her brow as Mama Chen shoved through the doors.

“You!” The older woman pointed angrily at Nani. “Don’t think I didn’t notice your tardiness today. This is the last day you dishonor me. You’re fired!”

Nani felt her face instantly turn red as the other workers turned to stare at her.

She didn’t expect that.

Biting back a nasty response, she tore her apron off and let it fall haphazardly at her feet. She pushed past Mama Chen and ignored her when the older woman screeched something about “making sure she never worked in another restaurant again!”

The cool autumn air slapped Nani harder than Mama Chen’s words, but it was a welcome reprieve from the congested, sweaty air of the kitchen. She sighed and inhaled deeply, her nerves on edge as she suddenly realized that she was once again out of a job.

How could she explain herself when she showed up at the store early and empty-handed?

She started down the block, racking her mind with excuses to tell the Bookkeeper, who would undoubtedly assure Nani she was doing her best and to not worry about a thing. Still, the young brunette knew the elderly woman would have to worry about her next meal and the concerning lack of customers.

Another sudden gust of wind burst forth, smashing a flurry of discarded newspaper and ads into her face.

Nani stumbled back, the wall of stray papers temporarily blinding her. She sputtered as she ripped the sheets from her face, only for one of them to catch her eye.

It was a flashy advertisement, adorned with gaudy colors and symbols, calling hopeful talents to appear on Shiro Shinobi’s new radio channel 54. The advertisement promised the potential winner a chance at hosting their very own show on the channel!

She reread the last sentence over and over, her grayish-green eyes widening at the prospect.

Could it be?

Suddenly, Nani was on a stage, a crowd of mesmerized onlookers chanting her name as she crooned into a microphone for them. The camera flashes caught the glitter of the jewels on her dress so perfectly,  momentarily blinding her, but it didn’t matter.

She was star.

For a moment, Nani dared to dream about a future that seemed impossible just moments ago. This… had to be a sign. This opportunity quite literally slapped her in the face!

Feeling giddy, she hurried back to the shop.

----

Taking one last glance at the mirror, Nani grinned with satisfaction.

She looked good, really good, like that poster of Cherry Wong hanging in Mama Chen’s. She even emulated the famous singer’s makeup, dark red lipstick and sultry cat eyes to bring out the green.

One of the first, and most influential, performers in the United Republic- Cherry Wong wowed audiences with her stunning features and incredible voice. She had a talent that no one had seen in those times. She was known for taking old Earth Kingdom poems and transforming them into melodious harmonies. Her music was enjoyed by both old and young audiences alike.

As a child listening from the partially open windows of the clubs, Nani marveled at her talent and was utterly inspired by her passion. She spent most of her free time practicing her sonnets and ballads, hoping to find her voice like Cherry Wong found hers.

A crash sounded in the room next door, followed by a cry of pain.

Nani jolted, rushing to the sound. In the hallway, a massive grandfather clock had toppled over, pinning the Bookkeeper under its impressive weight. Shards of glass and wood lay scattered around her. Blood trickled from the elderly woman’s mouth.

“Oh…oh…” the woman whimpered, shaking as she struggled under the gargantuan fixture.

Nani gasped, nearly frozen by the grisly sight. She fell to her knees, cradled the woman’s head in her hands and cried, “I’ll call for help!”

She wasn’t sure if the woman was shaking from pain or simply nodding her head, but she spent no time discerning the difference. The brunette gently laid the Bookkeeper’s head down and jumped over the sea of glass shards that littered the floor. She sped outside and flung the door to the store open, shouting for help.

The rest of the morning was a blur of people, police sirens, ambulances and cleaning up glass. Nani breathed shakily as the medics strapped the Bookkeeper into the stretcher. She reached out and squeezed her hand.

“Don’t let them take my shop,” the Bookkeeper moaned, her bandaged face soaked in tears.

Nani couldn’t say anything with the massive lump in her throat, so she mustered a nod and watched as the medics took her away in a flurry of sirens.

The tumultuous morning events had shaken Nani terribly. A jagged feeling of guilt dug into her abdomen as she returned to her room, her gaze fixated on the poster she hung above her bed. She peeled it off the wall and folded it gingerly, setting it on the mattress.

She turned away, prepared to give up this dream once and for all.

Unless…

Nani’s eyes tracked round to the bed where the poster sat. After a moment, she reached for it and unfolded the paper, gazing at it intently.

Guilt be damned. She would be stupid to waste the opportunity.

Betrayal accompanied the sound of the clanging keys as Nani locked up the store and darted up the street, her purse and the poster in her arms. Waving wildly, she was able to flag down a taxi and hurled herself into the backseat.

“To Studio 54, please.”

----

Traffic was actually quite agreeable that morning. When the cab finally reached the studio, Nani tossed what little money she had left into the greasy palm of the cab driver and pounced from the backseat onto the pavement. The sound of the cab speeding away barely registered as the brunette gazed up at the building.

The studio itself had undergone quite a transformation. It used to be a simple office building in Harmony Park, but with Shiro Shinobi’s attention (and money), it quickly became the hub for all radio-based creativity and communications. People from all over the world could be heard from this very building. Their stories, their songs, their lives…spread across soundwaves and flowing indiscriminately to anyone who could turn a dial, only to become a daily, integral part of that person’s life. It was magical, really.

Bright red, towering doors were cast open, inviting Nani inside with their promise of fame and freedom.

When she walked in, she noticed the line for auditions was quite short. Only a handful of people were in the queue. Directly in front of her stood a broad-shouldered individual who was just tall enough to obscure her vision of the ticket desk at the front of the line. Hopping onto her tip toes, Nani got a brief view of the desk and noticed the alarmingly short stack of tickets.

Her stomach turning to stone, the brunette reached up and twirled a strand of curls between her fingers. It was something she’d done since childhood, whenever she was intensely anxious.

With every auditionee, the stack got shorter and shorter. She watched in despair as the ticketer handed over the very last one to the man in front of her. Nani took a defeated step forward, the last glimmer of hope extinguished as the ticketer merely shook his head.

“Sorry, toots. Gotta be quicker next time.”

Her shoulders sank and her eyes stung as the failure dragged her under water. Her gaze traveled to the group of auditionees filing into the audition booth, the forbidden space meant only for the most auspicious, blessed individuals favored by the spirits.

Nani, as usual, was not such a person. The spirits must’ve really gotten a kick outta this one.

She chewed on her ire and hurt as she trudged back to the shop. The stone in her gut had turned into a burning lump of coal. What was worse, the humiliation of being turned away from the one thing she’d always wanted, or the immense guilt of closing the store and setting the Bookkeeper back for a stupid pipedream doomed to flop?

When she reached the decrepit little book store, she hastily let her self in and slammed the door behind her. Her eyes caught the broken grandfather clock, now shoved into a corner where it could no longer fall on frail old ladies. She locked her jaw in indignation.

Marching through the shop, Nani found the tiny radio she shared with her elderly roommate. She tore it from its perch on the counter and chucked into the trash outside. She ripped the poster from her purse and tore it to bits, letting the pieces fall around her like confetti. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

There she was, once again in a hapless celebration of her own failures and delusions.

“You’re never gonna learn, are you?”

----

It was an unusually warm autumn morning as Nani walked into the Bookkeeper’s hospital room. Clasped between her fingers was a large bouquet of petunias, the old woman’s favorite flowers.

“What a surprise,” the Bookkeeper murmured, lifting her head from the pillow to see the young woman at the foot of her bed. “Come, come sit.”

A sad smile tugged on Nani’s lips. The Bookkeeper looked so much smaller than she remembered. Her face had become jaunt and skeletal, her eyes barely open slits, her lips cracked and bleeding. Her neck was so weak she could barely lift her head.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Nani offered.

“What lovely flowers,” the Bookkeeper said, as if not hearing Nani’s apology. “Find a vase for them, and put them in the windowsill. They like the sun.”

The brunette did as she was told and took a seat next to the old woman’s bed.

“I heard the most beautiful lady sing on the radio last night,” the Bookkeeper mused. Her eyes glittered with tears. “What a star she was. Did you hear her?”

Nani clenched her jaw. The audition was last week, so the stinging feeling of disappointment was still fresh. The Bookkeeper had unknowingly thrown salt right into her wounds.

The old woman turned her head weakly to smile at Nani. “I have no idea where she is,” she whispered, her tears falling down the side of her face. “She said she would be back, but I think she got lost.”

Concern set in as Nani watched the Bookkeeper’s face relax into silent, pleasant confusion. Her eyes settled on the ceiling, as though watching clouds in the sky.

It was later revealed that the Bookkeeper had cancer, and it not only ate through her bones, but it was actively chewing through her brain, too. Nani had thought it was simply senility easing its way in, a normal part of aging.

But this wasn’t normal aging. This was dying.

Nani sat at the Bookkeeper’s side for several days, comforting her as she cried out for people who weren’t there, moistening her lips with cool water, and mustering a brave face as she watched the woman who took her in waste away.

As the end drew closer, Nani knew what had to be done.

The woman deserved a proper burial at the very least. To sell the shop felt like betraying her, but what else could Nani do? She had no job, no support, and the shop hadn’t made a sale in months.  

That’s what Nani told herself when she found a buyer. The guy was skeezy, but he paid a decent amount that would cover the Bookkeeper’s funeral and then some. He seemed rather excited to take the shop off of Nani’s hands, and frankly, she was eager to wash her hands of it.

The exchange went well, leaving her with a hefty envelope of cash under her arm and one less guilt trip to carry around.

Still, her eyes filled with tears as she watched the flames flicking at the funeral pyre. The Bookkeeper was kind and generous. She never badgered Nani for rent. She never judged or shamed her when she lost a job. She was just there…a trustworthy, safe fixture that Nani could rely on.

When the last of the flames died and the old woman’s ashes were collected, Nani walked to her grave site and placed the urn in the ground before piling a mound of loose dirt over it. She sighed, wiping her hands on the hem of her dress and sat back on her heels.

The sky was gray as she dipped her head and pressed her palms together, murmuring a final prayer for the old woman’s soul.

“Well, ain’t that a pity,” a male voice drawled behind her.

Nani tensed. She must’ve not heard the footfalls coming up behind her. She used to be good at that.

A disappointed clicking noise left the man’s lips. “Can’t say hi to an old friend?”

Nani’s heart pounded in her chest as sweat began forming on her brow. Reluctantly, she turned her head to see the tanned, curly haired man looming over her. His hands rested on his hips as he stared her down.

“M-ming.”

Her voice betrayed her as it cracked. She didn’t mean to, but the very sight of him had her frozen to the ground where she sat.

The earthbender smirked at her, his soulless gray eyes boring through her body.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, sweetheart. Tahno had us looking everywhere for you. After a while, we just assumed you died with the other poor souls in the tunnels,” he said, his voice devoid of any concern.

Nani gulped as he lent down  on his knees, meeting her eye to eye.

“Turns out, you’re just good at hiding,” he cooed, reaching out to caress her cheek.

The young woman gasped sharply as she jerked away, glaring at the man with a mix of terror and disgust.

A few moments passed as she tried to compose herself. “W-what are you doing here?” She questioned.

Ming glared at her intensely. “What do you think?” 

A shiver ran down her spine as she digested his question. Wolfbats were known for being possessive of their mates.

Nani’s hands wandered behind her, grabbing fistfuls of grass before finally finding a rock. She swung her arm around, clocking Ming in the jaw with it.

“I’m not going back!” She screamed.

He went down with a loud grunt, and Nani took off. She didn’t dare look behind her as she darted away, lurching over tombstones, urns and dead flowers, desperately running away from the life she left behind last year.

As she zig-zagged through the cemetery, she could hear the sound of heavy stones whooshing past her, some just barely grazing the tips of her hair.

“You chose the wrong place to pick a fight with me, baby!” Ming taunted, his voice echoing not too far behind.

Nani’s heart pounded against her ribcage. Her eyes fixated on the iron gate at the entrance, hoping to clear its threshold before her attacker could reach her. Her legs ached as she pumped forwards, her breathing ragged. With every distressing step, the gate grew closer.

Suddenly, two tombstones came flying from opposite sides, sandwiching Nani between the slabs of rock, slamming her into the ground.

Ming was right. It was stupid to challenge an earth bender in a cemetery.

“Agh!” She cried out, her ribs cracking under the weight.

She could hear the sound of grass being trampled and winced when Ming’s face came into view. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

She squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing her fear.

“You were always such a stubborn broad,” he lamented.

Like an act of mercy, the stones fell away and the pain swiftly disappeared with them. Nani blinked, staring up at her old compatriot.

“Just kill me, then,” she panted. “I’m not going back to Tahno!”

Ming dropped to her level again, this time cruelly yanking her forward by her hair. She yelped in pain.

“You knew that shop was drowning in debt, didn’t you?” He questioned, quiet but threatening. “The bank sent a letter threatening foreclosure four months ago. You let my uncle buy a foreclosed business!”

Nani wasn’t sure how to respond. Since when did Ming have an uncle? Was this not about Tahno?

“I didn’t know!” It was true, she didn’t know just how bad the debt was. All she had were a few bills and the deed to the shop. And, damn, if she’d known San Ho was Ming’s uncle, she would’ve never sold the shop to him. Now, she’d really done herself in.

Ming pulled harder on her hair, and Nani cried out, clawing at his forearm as she squirmed under his grip.

Eventually, he released her. Nani fell back, gasping for breath as she watched Ming, petrified.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Normally when someone pathetic and nameless crosses San Ho, they get whacked. But, we’re old pals-wouldn’t you agree?”

Nani diverted her gaze from him. ‘Pals’ was a strong word.

Ming flashed her a sinister grin. “When I heard about your little transgression, I had the option to send my uncle’s goons out to find you. But those guys, they aren’t exactly known for their self control, if y’know what I mean.”

Instinctively, Nani pressed her legs together tightly.

“Believe it or not,” the earthbender continued, “I was real down when you left us, Nani. I don’t think Tahno ever gave you credit for how talented you were, but I saw it.”

Drops of rain kissed the top of Nani’s head, soon becoming an overpour. The heavens above seemed to pour out their disfavor of her, thunderously crashing down like a typhoon in the spring. If she even dared to run again, the mud would only make the chase more difficult. Ming would capture her again, and would likely break a few bones to drive home his point.

She’d lost, Nani told herself.  If tears rolled down her cheeks, Ming didn’t see them.

“Once a Wolfbat, always a Wolfbat,” she murmured, echoing Tahno’s words.

Ming shook his head, snickering. Nani snapped her head up to look at him through a curtain of sopping wet curls.

He chuckled at her confusion, replying, “Like I said, Tahno was a fool to ignore your talent.”

Apparently, he had other plans.

Nani would have to sell her body again, but not in the way most girls on the streets did. San Ho, Ming’s very rich and very corrupt uncle, owned a lucrative brewing company as well as a few dozen opium dens throughout the United Republic. He had quite a few connections with the Terra Triad, of which his nephew was an avid participant. His customers were often high-profile businessmen and women who liked getting drunk and high while being, well, serviced. Everyone appreciated good music and dancing, and Nani would provide. It was abnormally merciful, but who was Nani to refuse?

After all, Ming teased, there were worse ways to put her mouth to use.

----

Nani sighed as she picked up the cheap, shimmering silver fabric of the dress laid on the chair of her “dressing room”, i.e. a dimly lit walk-in closet with a futon on the ground coated in mysterious dried fluids.

She slipped out of her old maroon dress, undid her brassiere, and slid the new dress over her head. She shimmied and danced a bit until she was able to get the cloth over her hips. Eventually, the dress was on, and it actually fit pretty well, considering it had belonged to someone else. Nani’s breasts and back were very much exposed , however, leaving very little to the imagination. Even the most salacious lingerie wasn’t this provocative, but Nani knew her “audience” would appreciate it. Even more so, Ming and his uncle would be pleased.

As Nani rummaged through the box of costumes in front of her, she pulled out a feathered, boa-like head piece with a glittery band that matched her dress. She wrapped it around her head, careful not to disturb her curls which she’d smoothed down with gel earlier.

A heavy-handed knock startled her.

“Come on now, let’s see it.” It was Ming.

A deep sigh left her lips as Nani threw open the door. The earthbender was leaning against the frame, his eyes trailing up and down, a stomach-churning grin of satisfaction on his lips as he drank in her appearance.

“You look good enough to eat,” he muttered.

Nani didn’t look him in the eye as she walked past him, the look of disgust apparent on her face. She made her way to the long mirror in the hallway and stared at her reflection. The ridiculous headpiece, the exaggerated makeup, the scandalous outfit.

She was a show girl. An indentured show girl.

A mirthless laugh left her mouth without warning. You want fame? The spirits asked. Here’s your fame.

Ming sauntered into frame and put a cold hand on her shoulder. It took everything in Nani’s being not to recoil from him.

“The madame wants to meet you before you take the stage,” he said.

In another room, one more decadently decorated and much cleaner, sat the Madame. She was a tall, middle aged woman with a heavily powdered face and nails like knives. She was dressed in a silk red and pink kimono and a glossy black wig. She was pouring tea into a small cup.

“Madame Yoshino, I’ve brought your newest act, as promised,” Ming announced, keeping his fingers tightly curled around Nani’s shoulder as he led her into the room.

The exquisite woman stood from her cushion, cup in hand. She approached Nani with narrowed eyes. She barely looked at her before turning away in disgust.

“She’s dark,” she spat.

Nani’s eyes widened at the unexpected jab. Her hands balled into fists, nails digging into her palms.

Ming patted her back, replying confidently, “You’ve got plenty of porcelain dolls, why get another one when you can have a bronze beauty instead?”

Madame Yoshino glowered at Ming for a moment before turning her attention back to the young woman. She raised an inquisitive brow at her. She studied Nani’s figure,  pausing over her chest and then her face, where she lingered for a long time.

Nani gulped as she tried, and failed, not to look the frighteningly intimidating woman in the eyes.

The madame grasped her chin and forcefully jerked her face from side to side.

“Open your mouth,” she demanded.

Nani gave her a hateful stare but complied when Ming slapped her ass with stinging force.

She bit back a yelp and let the Madame inspect her teeth.

“Hm…a few cavities, but overall not bad,” the older woman commented. She tapped Nani’s jaw as if to signal her to close it.

Shrugging, Madame Yoshino took a sip of her tea and settled her gaze on Nani again. “Where are you from, little miss? North or South?”

Nani understood her question, as many had asked the same. And she answered the same as she always did.

“Neither,” she replied boldly. “I’m from Republic City.”

Ming cleared his throat and pinched the back of her arm. Nani squeezed her eyes shut to keep from crying out in pain.

Madame Yoshino set her teacup down, waving her arms in the air with disdain. “No, no, no! That won’t do. From now on, you’re a Northern girl, you see?”

Another slap to her behind from Ming, this time less vicious. “Our little arctic fox,” he teased.

Nani bit her tongue until it bled. Hatred burned in her veins as the two continued to talk about her as though she weren’t in the room. To them, she was just a piece of meat to be devoured later, then regurgitated and devoured again…until she was completely unrecognizable.

Madame Yoshino dug her dagger-like nails into Nani’s arm as she dragged her onstage.

The brunette’s eyes darted around the room. The atmosphere was thick with the familiar scent of opium and sweat. The dim lights were a blood-red hue, blanketing everything in a sort of sensual, dangerous anonymity.

Her gaze turned to the door in the very back of the room. If she tried to make a run for it, Ming could easily block off the exit with his earth bending, or smash a rock into her head with a swipe of his hand.

Madame Yoshino took the microphone and introduced her as a “Northern Snow Princess”.

A stage light shined jarringly in her face, blinding her for a few seconds. As her vision adjusted, Nani took in the environment around her.

Various paintings and portraits of people engaged in lewd sex acts decorated the walls. Well-dressed men, and a few women, sat on various couches and cushions, pipes and sake glasses in their hands as young courtesans fawned over them. Their clothes were still on, but a few had their shirts unbuttoned, dresses turned askew, shoes missing.

This was nothing like her daydreams.

The clientele hummed in surprise and intrigue, a few even clapped. Nani couldn’t stomach looking at them directly, instead focusing on a portrait to the right of her. It was a photograph, blown up on a poster, of a naked woman, her large breasts like two moons shining bright in the night sky, with a green and pink folding fan splayed out between her legs, just barely covering her sex.

Somehow, that woman was using her sexual prowess as a form of power. Somehow, she was able to take hold of the narrative that she’d been sold into. It was in her eyes. Her body was hers, and no one could take that away.

Nani longed to be half as brave as the woman in the photograph.

An upbeat, jazzy tune began playing behind her and her hands trembled as she took the microphone.

Just sing, she told herself. It’s like riding a bicycle.

The words tumbled from her lips on cue as she timed herself to the music. It was a song about falling in love, or something silly like that. It wasn’t the most appropriate song for a brothel, but somehow it got people going.

As the song continued, Nani sashayed her hips to the melody, waving her arms in a rhythmic swaying motion.  

The crowd was pleased, clapping along and cheering. Their enthusiasm would’ve been intoxicating had it not been for the fact that she could see them getting grabby with some of the courtesans.

She did her best to keep singing, to pretend it didn’t bother her. She murmured out a few more notes, humming along and dancing away, but then she saw it:

An older gentleman had his hands around a girl’s throat as he straddled her, his knee forcing its way between her legs. The girl was around Nani’s age, but her face was caked in geisha makeup to make her look older. Her eyes were wide with panic and terror, until they rolled back into her head. Her body went limp in the man’s grasp, but he didn’t let up.

All the while, the cheery cacophony of saxophones, trumpets, bass and drums continued their happy tune as Nani watched this man choke a dead body. Her voice had long been drowned out by the music. Or maybe she’d stopped singing altogether, she didn’t actually recall.

Her eyes were glued to the man’s hands. He just kept going.

The music got louder, the cheers got louder, everything sort of blurring together in the chaos.

It was in that moment that something buried deep inside Nani exploded.

A wordless, enraged shriek tore itself from her throat. She leapt from the stage, grasping the microphone stand in her hands. As she charged at the man, she held the pole over her head and brought it down on his face with a sickening crack.

He crumpled to the floor.

Nani’s hands shook as she dropped the microphone stand. The music came to a screeching halt. The looks of awe and wonder morphed into terror and disgust. Nani could feel Ming and Madame Yoshino’s eyes burning into her back, but all she could do was watch the man stir, trying to push himself up with his hands. Nani brought the pole over her head again.

But before she could deliver another blow, the thick scent of sulfur and ammonia filled the air.

Smoke seemed to pour from every orifice of the building, creating a cloudy miasma that rapidly replaced the oxygen in the room. Panic settled in, screams tearing through the atmosphere as everyone scrambled  to escape.

Nani coughed as she tried to fight the smoke, stumbling over the bodies of the clientele as they dropped like flies around her. Her eyes and lungs burned as the smoke seared into her mucus membranes. She gasped into the crook of her elbow, but the fumes were too much. She staggered towards the exit, when something caught her ankle, causing her to lurch forward.

She was unconscious before she hit the ground.

----

The sound of jingling keys and steel-toed boots woke Nani up. Or maybe it was the raging, fume-induced migraine boring into her skull. She wasn’t quite sure, yet.

“Wake up, miss,” a deep voice beckoned.

Nani groaned as she opened her eyes. She slowly lifted her head, squinting as the figure of a uniformed man came towards her. Behind him, she could see a set of bars. Her mind quickly registered the cuffs around her wrists and ankles.

Eyes snapping open with alarm, Nani jerked away from the officer. She held her arms up to shield herself, but that, unsurprisingly, did nothing to stop him.

“Let’s go,” the officer said, grabbing hold of her arms and pulling her up.

“No, no, no,” she begged. “Please don’t do this!”

She writhed against his iron-grip as he dragged her out of the jail cell and through the halls of the precinct. In her peripheral vision, she saw Ming being carried away by two officers, except his cuffs looked different, like they were wooden—probably so he wouldn’t try to metal bend his way out of them.

Relief washed over her for a second, but only for a second. She then realized she was in a showgirl’s outfit, in a brothel, surrounded by opium, prostitutes and rich people who were above the law.

“I-I don’t belong here!” She said nervously. “You have to believe me.”

The officer scoffed at her. “You know how many times I’ve heard that before?”

She ended up in an interrogation room, sitting across a young detective with enigmatic amber eyes and dark hair.  He had his arms crossed as he leaned back in his chair. He didn’t say anything for a few minutes; he just looked at her.

She covered her chest with her arms, suddenly very self-conscious of her very exposed body.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Nani finally muttered, her voice hoarse.

The detective leaned forward, his elbows on the desk in front of him, as though eager to hear more. “Well, a statement, for starters,” he responded.

Nani shook her head, her glittering headpiece tilting down to one side. “What is there to say?” She retorted. “You found me in a brothel. I know what you do to women in brothels.”

The man raised one sharp brow at her. “Oh?” He replied, as though inviting her to continue.

A tickle started in Nani’s throat, reminding her that she was quite dehydrated. “Can I have some water?” She asked.

Nodding, the detective left the room. In seconds, he was back with a glass of lukewarm water, but Nani didn’t care. She threw her head back and gulped down the whole thing.

When she was finished, she placed the glass in between herself and the detective.

“I’m not some skirt,” she said flatly.

The detective nodded. “I know.”

“How?”

He swiftly laid out several photographs across the table. Nani leaned forward to examine them. There were photos of San Ho, Madame Yoshino, Ming, and several young women and men she did not recognize. Evidence of drug, alcohol and sexual paraphernalia was wantonly displayed in the images.  There were also images of the brothel and other buildings within the Red Light District. Nani was surprised to see those pictures had been taken some time in the morning. They didn’t look so frightening in broad daylight.

The detective explained, “We’ve been watching this group for years-even had a few of our officers infiltrate their ranks to find information that could help us bring them down. They knew every face that walked into that bordello, except yours.”

Nani glanced at the detective and then back at the photos. She couldn’t stop looking at the faces of the young sex workers.

“We did however hear about an unsavory purchase that San Ho had made,” he continued. “Something about a foreclosed book shop?”

Her knee jerk reaction was to scream, “It wasn’t my fault!” but Nani held her tongue. Instead, she looked away.

“The woman I was staying with died,” she muttered. “She owned the bookstore. On her deathbed she asked me sell it.”

That little lie stung. Nani knew it was wrong, but it was better than the truth. The Bookkeeper had begged her not to let anyone take away the shop. Perhaps in her demented, cancer-ridden brain she knew the bank was going to take everything.

Leaning back in his chair, the detective appeared to take this in.

“Okay,” he started slowly, as though he was working out a puzzle in his mind. “So you sold the deed to San Ho, and then he somehow found out it was foreclosed. Then what?”

Nani sighed loudly. “Do I really have to walk you through every little detail?”

Reaching into his coat, the detective pulled out a yellow notepad with one hand and clicked a pen with the other. “Yes, please,” he responded. “Let’s start with your name.”

“Tanana, my friends call me Nani…at least they would if I had friends.”

“Is there a last name?”

“No.”

“Where are you from?”

“Born in Republic City.”

“Ok. Do you have any family we can contact?”

Curls shook furiously. “No family. Just me.”

The detective nodded. “How old are you?”

Nani bit her lip, hesitant. “I-I’m not 100% sure. Between 20 and 23, I think.”

His eyes flew up to her face, filled with confusion and possibly even concern.

“You grew up on the streets,” he responded, as though filling in the blanks. Despite her not asking him to.

The brunette’s expression was stone-like. After a while, the pity gets old.

Clearing his throat, the detective asked Nani to give her statement as truthfully and clearly as she could.

Eager to be done with it, Nani explained the events in the cemetery and the brothel, up until she met Madame Yoshino.

“I thought I was doing a show,” she explained. “But then I looked around, like really looked around, and I realized where I was.”

As she spoke, the detective scribbled furiously onto his notepad.

“Were you asked to perform any sexual acts?” He asked, his eyes not leaving the pad.

“Oh, no,” she responded nonchalantly. She noticed a dusting of pink on the detective’s face as he paused writing for a second. “But I saw quite a few people getting their rocks off in the audience.”

The writing paused momentarily, and then resumed. Nani watched the detective quietly as he wrote. His features just screamed with familiarity, but for some reason she couldn’t place it.

Seconds later, the man looked up and noticed her watching at him. “…I’m listening,” he prompted.

Nani shrugged, “I don’t have much else, sorry.”

Pursing his lips, the detective clicked his pen before stuffing it and the notepad back into his coat. He scooched his chair back and stood.

“Thank you for your statement,” he said curtly, resuming an air of professionalism. “My officers will be in here shortly to undo your cuffs and bring you your belongings.”

Nani nodded in response, watching him as he turned to leave. She almost let him go, but something nagged at her incessantly.

“Detective?”

He turned his head to look at her. “Yes?”

Rubbing the inside of her palm, Nani stared at the files in his hands. “What happened to that girl? Did she make it?”

A look of recognition flashed across his face, followed by somberness. Nani grimaced knowingly.

“No….she was one of ours,” he admitted soberly.

“Spirits….I’m sorry.”

A few seconds of uncomfortable silence lingered in the air.

“Me too,” he responded, closing the door behind him.

----

Less than thirty minutes later, Nani was freed. She wasted no time fleeing downstairs to the front lobby with her purse in hand, covering her chest. As she made her way down, she noticed a group of officers crowded around a radio, howling with laughter.

 She paused, simultaneously amused and annoyed, wondering what they were listening to that was so funny.

“Turn it up, will ya?” A stout officer exclaimed, shoving one of his companions.

The taller, thinner one obliged, chuckling as he playfully punched the first officer back.

Nani lingered in the lobby of the precinct, her ears perked to the sound of Shiro Shinobi’s voice:

--“AAAANNND welcome back ladies and gentlemen to Channel 54 Radio. I’m your host, Shiro Shinobi, and tonight do we got a program for you!”

“Tonight, I am pleased to announce the premiere of our newest program, ‘Dispatches from Republic City’, hosted by the one, the only…

“MISTER BOOOOOOLIIIIIIN!!!! ALSO KNOWN AS NUKTUK: HERO OF THE SOUTH!”--

Nani’s eyes nearly bulged out of her head. Her mind went back to the day of the audition. The man in front of her….did she ever catch a glimpse of his face? Then she remembered, he’d said his name to the ticketer.

Bolin.

A festive, over-the-top jingle played over the soundwaves as the officers whooped and hollered in front of Nani. A tiny, likely overworked and underpaid intern scrambled behind her, spilling a week’s worth of paper shreds around her like a burst of confetti.

It would’ve been comical...if it weren't absolutely maddening.

Nani didn’t bother to listen to the rest of the program. She stared blankly ahead of her as she marched out of the precinct and into the chilly night air. She was burning with so much rage the cold actually felt good on her skin.

For a few seconds, she watched a slurry of satomobiles pass her by and contemplated walking into traffic. And she might’ve done it if she hadn’t looked up and saw a faded Nuktuk poster plastered on the wall of the building beside her.

No, she told herself. You’re not going out like roadkill.

She glared at the actor’s face, memorizing the face of the man who’d stolen her dream from her. Oh, she knew him. Maybe not personally, but she remembered him from her days with the Wolfbats.

He was a cocky Pro-Bender with a pet rat, big whoop. He got his fame when he starred in the movers, even bigger whoop. Who was he to steal audition spots? Didn’t he get his fifteen minutes?

Nani took one last look at the poster before tearing it down and ripping it to bits. People walked past her in the streets, staring at her like she was crazy, but she couldn’t give a rat’s ass if she tried.

She was furious, mostly at herself for giving up so quickly after the audition but also at the universe for favoring that big, dirt-pushing lug over her when it knew how badly she needed this.

Well, no matter. If the spirits could play tricks….then so could she.

She hurried towards the nearest hotel, intent on getting some decent beauty rest. She’d likely have to dip her fingers in some poor sap’s pockets to fund an outfit change. She wasn’t sure about the hair and makeup, but she would find a way. She always did.

After all, she had to look good if she was going to meet Nuktuk, hero of the South.

[smvtgalore]

You Have Such a Beautiful Hair

do block this blog if you don't like A/B/O & incest fics so I don't show up in the tag for you

Content warnings: omegaverse (omega!Azula, alpha!Ursa, g!p), aged-up characters, implied past abuse, light dom/sub, mild breeding kink, explicit sexual content.

Azula thinks it’s quite ironic, after everything, that it’s Ursa who seems to love her at all.

But no, don’t go thinking it’s normal love. Or, at least, the normal kind for mother and daughter. Sometimes Azula wonders if it was never there, if Ursa put her in Ozai and never felt anything only to fall in love with her all these years later. Or if it was love with limits, when Azula came more like Ozai than like her, it was over only to, again, fall in love with her all these years later.

Does it really matter?

Not when she has all the love and attention the alpha has neglected giving her when she was just a child. They talked about it. Angry shouting matches that almost ended in Agni Kais, angrier shouting matches that ended in furious fucking of people with the same spirit of dominance. Soft, gentle apologies under a shared thin blanket, naked cuddles after sweet sex more often than not. 

It’s almost funny, how Ursa makes her happy.

It helps that their love language seems to be giving each other orgasms. Ursa is on a mission, apparently, of really giving her all the love she didn’t receive as a child. Sometimes it’s slow, it’s lovemaking. There’s the something-like-hate-sex. There’s this. It’s, possibly, the closest Azula acts to a stereotypical omega. Even in heat, even when she’s less willing to fight for dominance, there’s always an aura of superiority.

It hasn’t been the best of the days, not with the nightmares plaguing her for the last few days and making sure she feels like a monster all over again. And Ursa noticed, has been the supportive presence she seemed to always be around Zuko and never around Azula. It only brought back more memories, the specific memory of the last time they had any level of physical affection. 

She woke up remembering how small she had been, sitting on Ursa’s lap, so safe and so content to have her attention.

Until, as always, Zuko ruined it.

Now she’s not so small anymore, even if she still didn’t clear above Ursa’s shoulder – stop worrying about your height, the older woman said a couple of times, you’ve been on the run for so long. It was the first time they had any intimacy, innocent compared to anything else, Ursa’s fingers caressing her ribs, worry about being healthy first. You’re talk for an omega anyways, you’re alright. Azula presses her face up against Ursa’s neck, close to her scent glad. Zuko wouldn’t be allowed to do that if he was here, cubs aren’t allowed to be so intimately close after puberty starts.

She’s not a cub anymore, but she’s allowed to be this close, this clingy.

She’s allowed to curl her arms and legs around Ursa like a dependent, needy toddler and then be held.

“It’s alright, dragon puppy,” Mother has always sounded sweet, soothing, but not often to her. “What do you need?”

“I’m not sure,” she still hates how insecure she sounds. “Can you… be rough?”

“Of course.”

But she’s not rough from the start, that’s not how it works. It���s loving kisses, the sweet tongue exploring her mouth as if it never did hundreds of times before. (It’s great, Azula thinks, the way they explore each other’s body time and time again, as if they don’t know everything at this point. Ursa kisses down her jawline, to her neck, bites and licks and sucks and leaves mark after mark after mark. 

Azula’s painfully aroused by the time the alpha pulls away to take off her shirt, trying to grind on her stomach.

“Stay still, puppy.”

How humiliating, the way she enjoys being called things such as little princess and puppy. 

Ursa’s mouth attacks her shoulders, leaving bruises on top of fading bruises on her collarbones. Their house is small, there are only a few steps between their bedrooms – Azula isn’t so sure why they have separated rooms if she so rarely sleeps in her designated room. Ursa’s bed is warm, comfortable, and it feels nice to be dropped on it. 

“Present, my love.”

Azula tries to not moan in response to the command on her alpha’s voice. She takes a quick look at her before turning. Ursa’s so handsome, age has been good to her. Time hardened her into an even more austere alpha than she was back in the palace, but the lack of royalty burden has also made her softer in the edges. Nothing surprising about how Azula has been immediately attracted to her once they reunited.

She manages to look perfect in peasant’s clothing.

Presenting position is one they rarely use, Ursa seems to have the preference of seeing her face and all. And Azula likes to have easy access to Ursa’s neck, to that smell of Fire Lilies and ozone. But she was an obedient daughter still, and lending control over to the alpha. 

“So wet for me, aren’t you, my dear?” She asks after pulling down the comfortable trousers. The room stinks of mixed arousal. Azula only nods, face pressed against the mattress. “Such a good little omega.”

Azula’s ego hates it. Azula’s inner omega responds quite positively to it.

The woman easily pushes two fingers, knuckles deep, because Azula is, indeed, very wet. Ursa doesn’t need to do much for the young woman to get soaking wet. 

Azula whimpers when she pulls out, and Ursa chuckles at the needy sound.

“I’ll give you what you need in a second. You’ve been so good to your alpha, no need to punish you at all.”

Azula makes the closest to a purr noise an omega can do when they’re not deep into heat. The bed dips under the weight of Ursa kneeling behind her, a hand is firmly placed on her hip, her other hand’s used to steady her cock an line up. She pushes in slowly, Ursa has been blessed with quite the sizeable alphahood.

“Such a good little omega, taking me like this,” she whispers as she bottoms out.

The first thrusts are shallow, slow, to get Azula used to the intrusion – the beuaty of one’s anatomy, they can do it thousands of times, she’ll always be so tight. It feels like being torn apart in the only way that can bring her back together, and it makes Azula lightheaded and with fire burning under her skin, brighter and hotter than her blue flames.

It's the truth written in the fabric of the universe: Ursa is the only person that can ruin and save her.

The alpha’s trusts are precise, hitting deep and hard, I love it when it feels like you’re trying to bruise me from inside out. Ursa reaches forward, wraps her hand in black, silky hair. It has taken a little while for Azula to feel comfortable with Ursa touching her hair, and then it didn’t take long to learn that she likes this.

She likes when Ursa wraps her hand in it like a rope and pulls. Pulls so hard that makes Azula’s fill with tears, and makes her clit throb in painful pleasure.

Everything about them is a painful pleasure.

Ursa pulls her back until Azula’s on her knees, the angle of her trusts change and hit impossibly deep. She keeps her hard grip.

“You have such a beautiful hair,” she whispers m am adoring voice, a constrast to her actions. Her other hand presses against Azula’s lower belly. “You can cum when you’re ready.”

Azula is ready, has been so needy for days that she only needs some roughness to cum. 

Ursa fucks her through it, whispering a mix of dirty words and the ever present soft nicknames. Azula whines when Ursa eases her way out, feeling empty without her alpha’s cock – empty without her alpha’s cum. 

“Not yet,” Ursa whispers, aware of how when Azula is like this, that little part of her that is like where are my babies? start to talk a little loud. They decided to not risk it at all.

Azula can appreciate how Ursa cuddles and comforts her, ignores her own need to reach a climax, all because Azula needs the cuddling and comfort.

It might not be in the way Azula has craved when she was younger, but she’s happy to be Ursa’s puppy now. 

[withgirl-sq]

About your ask poste, what are the heigh of your Avatar Azula characters???

Hey!

Right now, Azula and Katara are the same height, maybe like 5 foot 4 feet, but I think as they head towards being 16, Azula would have a growth spurt and be like 5 foot 9/10 feet and Katara would be an inch or two smaller than her

After the growth spurt, Zuko would also be an inch or so smaller than Azula which would drive him crazy

Sokka would be close to 6 foot and Toph would be the shortest for a long time before she shoots up and is closer in height to Sokka

Thank you for the ask, really interesting to think about!

[fanfic-lover-girl]

He changes her height in his fantasies so she will be more compatible with him.

I have watched this show how many times and I never noticed this!

Katara and Sokka don't have the same qualms about killing people. 99% sure Katara must have killed someone when she was on her rampage in TSR.

And I would assume Toph, Sukki and even Zuko wouldn't have a huge problem with killing if the situation called for it.

When has Aang ever handled Katara's darker emotions well?? Like never.

I'm sorry but how does Aang idealize Katara? He can both see her as she is and show admiration over parts about her he loves. TSR was Aang assuming he and Katara share the same morality and making judgements based on that. BUT the show has displayed they usually have the same morality on matters. And he was right too!

How Aαng idealizes Katara

He looks at her through rose-colored glasses.

He changes her height in his fantasies so she will be more compatible with him.

[Katara, hallucination dream height]

[Katara, actual height relative to Aαng]

He repeatedly thinks she “doesn’t mean it” or “doesn’t sound like herself” when she expresses feelings of anger.

Aαng: I’m sure she didn’t mean that.Sokka: Yeah, I think she did.

Toph: You’re blaming me for this!?Aαng: No, no! She’s not blaming you!Katara: No, I’m blaming her!

Aαng: Katara, you sound like Jet. Katara: It’s not the same. Jet attacked the innocent.

He assumes she’ll just obey Air Nomad ideology, even though she’s Water Tribe.

Aαng: The monks used to say that revenge is like a two-headed ratviper. While you watch your enemy go down, you’re being poisoned yourself.

Aαng: You did the right thing. Forgiveness is the first step you have to take to begin healing. Katara: But I didn’t forgive him. I’ll never forgive him.

(This means he was half-right at best, because while she didn’t kill Yon Rha, she also didn’t forgive him like Aαng assumed she had to in order to begin healing.)

While it’s true many of their values align, Katara’s ideology is closest to the person she actually grew up in the same household with. Which means she and Aαng differ on some key issues. These include killing:

Sokka: There. That’s how it’s done.

Aαng: This goes against everything I learned from the monks. I can’t just go around wiping out people I don’t like… Sokka: Sure, you can. You’re the Avatar. If it’s in the name of keeping balance, I’m pretty sure the Universe will forgive you.

Adapting your principles to the situation …

Instead of forcing the situation to adapt to your principles.

Eating meat:

And the importance of a mother figure to the family.

Sokka: When our mom died, that was the hardest time in my life. Our family was a mess, but Katara, she had so much strength. She stepped up and took on so much responsibility. She helped fill the void that was left by our mom. Toph: I guess I never thought about that. Sokka: I’m gonna tell you something crazy. I never told anyone this before, but honestly, I’m not sure I can remember what my mother looked like. It really seems like, my whole life, Katara’s been the one looking out for me. She’s always been the one that’s there, and now, when I try to remember my mom, Katara’s is the only face I can picture.

But Aαng never chastises Sokka for following his beliefs … just Katara.

And worst of all, Aαng doesn’t understand how complex Katara’s feelings are, so like always, he just assumes her feelings are the same as his:

Aαng: We kissed at the invasion and I thought we were going to be together but we’re not.

Without even bothering to check.

Actor Zuko: I thought you were the Avatar’s girl.

Which makes him completely unable to see when something is bothering her.

Her needs get neglected, while he thinks everything is hunky dory:

And this will keep happening over and over:

Because Katara idealizes Aαng the same way.

Katara: I sense he’s filled with much wisdom.

Aαng: Sthee? Now my tongue ith thuck to my sthaff.

And she simply doesn’t have the heart to hurt his feelings.

Katara: I’ve been training Aαng for a while now. He really responds well to a positive teaching experience. Lots of encouragement and praise. Kind words. If he’s doing something wrong, maybe a gentle nudge in the right direction.

[ssokkasmoon]

i just found out you're opening request - that's wonderful! 💖 may i ask for zuko with short s/o? their height gap are not that different during teenage years, but she didn't exactly grow taller after that (i mean he gooes from 160 to 188 while she remains ~155 xD i think it would be really cute!) thanks in advance! hope it isn't too much <3

for a reference: 160cm = 5'3; 188 = 6'2", ~155 =~5'1 (i don't know which one you use, so here we go!)

ZUKO DATING A SHORT FEM!READER ~(HEADCANONS)

(He's aged up)

Sorry for late post ,law school has me going crazy .

During their teen years Zuko hated that they were the same height, thinking it made him seem less tough and cool.

Wrestling matches between them would last forever since they were evenly matched. Lots of playful wrestling, chasing each other around the yard. Having fun.

They'd team up against Zuko's sister Azula and her friends who were taller, and Stronger at time.

As they grew older,and time went by, Zuko started getting taller and after one summer,in a blink of an eye, he was towering over her while she stayed the same size (lol)

Y/n pouted in annoyance at looking up at Zuko now. He teased her mercilessly about being "tiny" which she hated.

Zuko began using his size to "accidentally" bump into Y/n while walking, hug her from behind, toss her over his shoulder while she squirmed. She pretended to be annoyed but found it amusing deep down.

Zuko became very protective of Y/n, glaring at any guy who looked in her way. She rolled her eyes ,but felt flutter in her stomach everytime he got jealous .

-After they started dating~

Even though he seems though from outside he's a big softie For y/n ,Cuddling and spooning would be his favorite, able to completely envelop her in his arms.

Lots of stolen kisses , loves surprising her with sweet pecks on the lips and forehead when she's not expecting it. Making her blush while he's already all red himself.

Zuko Tries not to constantly tease her about the height difference, but finding it too cute when she pouts. Quick kisses and cuddle sessions usually dissolve the annoyance.

He Loves how tiny her hands look holding his larger ones. Or wrapping around his bicep.

Loves when she borrows (steals) his shirts to wear ,finding it hot adorable how tiny she looks wearing them.

Secretly loves when she's sitting in his lap. Gets to feel how perfectly she fit against his body. Bonus for lazy makeout sessions.(wink wonk)

He feels very protective over her and loves her unconditionally.

© 2024 ssokkasmoon

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Skin & Scale (Part 3)

Azula stretches her arms and yawns.

She lowers her arms, grits her teeth, and yanks her sleeves up. The skin beneath is red and dry from a night of rubbing and scratching and still her arms itch terribly. She rubs her hands over her face, lightly slapping her cheeks in an attempt to better wake herself up. She has far too much to do today to be so sleepy. But to go with an aggravating amount of itching, she is still decently sore, it is becoming quite a nuisance really. The royal physicians are no help at all, they tell her that this is normal, that she is growing so of course her bones will ache and her body will feel stretched and tight. But she doesn’t recall hearing Zuzu complain about such things when he was twelve. She doesn’t recall Mai mentioning anything and she had shot up faster than anyone else Azula knows. 

“Everyone is different.” They assure her, but it isn’t even slightly reassuring. 

Perhaps it is another awful consequence of her embarrassingly late blooming. Seventeen and she is only just now joining everyone else? Seventeen and she still can’t brag about her figure like TyLee can. Seventeen and she still can’t reach the topmost shelves–the second highest shelf if the build is particularly high. Seventeen and she still has some babyfat on her cheeks, perhaps not as much as she had when she was fourteen, but she had expectations. Expectations that are far from being met. 

These days she finds herself scrutinizing her reflection with more intensity than ever, inspecting her face for even the tiniest of changes. She thinks that maybe her chin is sharper? Or her eyes? There is something different about her eyes. Or maybe she is just noticing details that had always been there but she hadn’t paid any mind to. It could also be that she is forcing herself to notice things that aren’t there, only seeing them because she wants to. 

She has nothing concrete; the doctors chart her height and track her weight, both are consistent. Now and then they check her foot size so that they can make her new shoes. Now and then they measure the length of her hands should she need gloves. Small feet, dainty hands are the comments; they don’t know why they keep measuring when there are never any differences to note. No one has commented on any differences in her appearance at all.

Maybe this whole puberty thing is all just one big joke, something giggling servants and former classmates exaggerate and dramatize. 

Maybe she is just an unchanging oddity. 

Maybe she will just be this way forever. 

There is a comfort in believing that she might just stay the same forever. At least she will always be familiar with her body. At least she will know every inch of it, memorize every patch of skin. 

It is every bit as unsettling; it comes with a dread that she will one day get sick of her body, that she will find some unchanging aspect of it that she doesn’t like to fixate upon until she is old enough for wrinkles and gray hair and frail bones. 

She trails her pointer down her cheek, one long, pointed nail tracing down to her chin. She spritzes herself with perfume and goes to join Zuko, the Avatar, and friends for a discussion about dragons.

.oOo.

She hadn’t been the one to call the meeting but, naturally, Azula is the first to arrive. She takes that brief window of time to give her arms and legs another stretch and try to get comfortable in her chair. 

“Hello, Azula!” Aang greets. He is every bit as enthusiastic–almost annoyingly so–as he ever was. It has been a rather noteworthy span of time since she had last seen him; he is a touch taller now and eve he has has started to lose some of that babyfat on his face. He is what? Fifteen now? Something like that, truthfully she had never bothered learning their ages. But he is younger than she. Younger and taller. 

Younger than her and yet he looks older.

Linked to him, by her arm, Katara also looks significantly more mature. 

Sokka has the beginnings of a bead and a bulkier build. Behind him, Toph has also had a growth spurt among other things…

Really, it is humiliating to have been left behind like this. Neglected and forgotten by nature itself. Spited might be a better word for it, she doesn’t believe that nature would forget anything. Doesn’t believe that it could forget anything.

Maybe it hates her because she is deviant from it.

She inhales and exhales, she doesn’t have time for this. They aren’t assembled to assess her personal predicaments. They are here to discuss dragons and what will surely turn into a quest of some sort. 

“I’ve got a list of all of the places I think that father might have hidden the dragon egg!” Zuko declares as he, late to his own meeting. She marks another tally on her, Zuzu is late to his own gatherings sheet. This is tally twelve. 

“Embarrassing.” She mutters.

“What is?” He frowns. 

She supposes that now is as good a time as any to reveal the tallies. She holds up the sheet. “This is the twelfth time that you have showed up at least five minutes late to a meeting you called. If we were counting instances of being one to four minutes late, I would have half this sheet filled already.”

He does not find her note taking to be as entertaining as she does. He fixes her with that same look he gives to lemons right before actually having a taste. “Whatever.” He grumbles. 

Time and place, she supposes. They can discuss tardiness and Fire Lordliness after speaking about dragons. But she does have to leave him with at least one more remark. “You know, Zuzu, doesn’t offer any credibility to declare a meeting urgent and then show up late.” 

Sokka stifles a laugh. 

As if he isn’t the second biggest offender of this. 

He gives a long exhale. “Well good thing that this is a family and friends only meeting.” 

“Well let’s get to it then, I have this massage that I’ve been looking forward to…” Agni, it will feel divine to have that tightness worked out of her muscles. 

“Right.” Zuko clears his throat. “So, with Azula’s help, I’ve come up with a few possible places that father might have hidden the dragon egg. Our objective is to get it safely…”

“Have you clarified that there might not be an egg to safely transport?” Azula cuts in and proceeds to inform the rest of the group of just what she had told Zuko about the dragon having hatched already. “That list is useless. Zuko forgot that we are looking for a dragon not a dragon egg.”

Zuko’s face flushes. “Would it kill you to not upstage me at my own meeting?”

“Would it kill you to be on time for your own meeting?” She shrugs. He has to admit that he had walked right into that one, and who could blame her for taking the opportunity. “How’s this, Zuzu, you show up on time to your meeting and I’ll suffer in silence as you blunder your way through said meeting.”

His face is entirely red now. “Okay! I think that you’re getting a little too comfortable…”

“Zuko.” Katara hushes him. “We don’t have time for another sibling rivalry right now.”

Sokka laughs, “You really just need to learn to brush things off. Especially with her.” He jabs his thumb in Azula’s direction.

At least someone is the brainpower to acknowledge and accept that she is simply a highly opinionated, blunt person and that they are going to have to deal with or ignore it depending on the context. Preferably they will elect to deal with her remarks rather than ignore them; she likes to think that her words have value. 

Zuko folds his arms across his chest. “Fine. You want to run the meeting, run it.” 

Azula’s face lights up, “well why didn’t you ask sooner!?”

He groans, grumbling something or another about forgetting that she’s one of the weirdos who likes these kinds of challenges. 

“As you all–well most of you, anyhow–know, we are not looking for a dragon egg, but a dragon. We, of course, should be vigilant for pieces of a dragon egg, scale molts, broken claws, and the like. But I imagine that it would be much easier to spot a dragon itself.” She pauses and draws a few books and scrolls from her pack. “I’ve gathered a collection of writings detailing the habits and common habitats of dragons. A lot of it is text from the ancient Sun Warriors. I suggest that everyone gives these a brief look over. But to summarize–dragons tend to pick one place, stick with it, and defend it to their dying breath.”

And that is precisely why she is concerned. The dragon would have sooner died than given up its home. 

Sokka raises his hand.

“They know what belongs to them and they cling viciously and rightfully to those possessions be they physical treasures or titles and statuses.”

Sokka waves his hand about.

“In this case, the dragon would be very protective of its secrets…its hiding spot.” She glances from person to person. “Dragons are habitual creatures. Contrary to popular belief, they enjoy order over chaos and create chaos when their order is disturbed. So if we do find this dragon, we can expect that it won’t be pleased to have its routine tampered with.” 

Sokka gives his raised hand a very attention grabbing shake.

“What, Sokka?”

“So, basically what you’re saying is that we’re risking being charred just for showing up and trying to bring this dragon home?”

Azula pinches the bridge of her nose. He had interrupted her for that? “Oh it has reason to burn us all alive on sight for more reasons than just that. There was a time when the whole world belonged to dragons…” She supposes that she can’t blame them for wanting to ravage it. If they couldn’t have it—couldn’t have what was theirs–then no one can. 

“Of course, that is if the dragon is still alive. We might be facing the last few months of our lives.”

Katara furrows her brows.

“It has been over ten years since that egg was stolen. I’ve told Zuzu, already that it is far-fetched that we haven’t seen a single sighting of a dragon in that time. Likely it has been hunted down. Dragons are quite easy to track. The prospect of it having hid itself so well for so long…it’s far fetched.” She pauses, clasping her hands atop the table. “Realistically, we will be bringing dragon bones to Ren and Shaw and we will face the same outcome as having not looked at all.” 

Each of them wears a priceless expression. Each conveys some level of horror. 

“Well, Appa is huge and he and I stayed hidden.”

“Beneath an ocean, in an iceberg, due to your Avatar abilities.” She replies. “There has to be a touch more than luck at hand for that dragon to have survived.” She wishes that she could say that stranger things have happened, but things are terribly mundane. 

“So I suggest that we turn our attention away from finding dead dragons and start making plans for how to fend off living ones.”

[the-badger-mole]

No Sound but Silence: Heatwave

Somehow it was a shock to see Ozai leaning against his car. Katara paused midstep and wondered if she had enough time to sneak around the corner and get to her house through the back door. Unfortunately, Ozai spotted her in the split second it took her to come up with that plan. She sighed heavily and walked on with her head high. Suddenly she was grateful that Zuko had a class that afternoon and couldn't pick her up. The last thing she wanted was that particular father-son reunion on her lawn.

Ozai stood to his full intimidating height as she approached. Katara didn't bother to hide her eye-roll when he folded his dark wool-clad arms across his carefully gym-sculpted chest.

"Katara," he greeted her coldly.

"Ozai," she replied defiantly. Katara crossed her arms, which had the added effect of highlighting her growing baby bump. "Why are you here?"

"Straight to the point, I see." Ozai raised an eyebrow at her.

"I figured the sooner you get the point, the shorter this visit will be," Katara said. "Don't mean to be rude, but I do have chemistry homework to get to, you know." Ozai sneered down at her, but he didn't seem inclined to fight. At least not yet.

"I have a proposal for you," he said.

"Zuko already beat you to that," Katara laughed mirthlessly.

"Yes. So I'd heard." Ozai dropped his arms and straightened his cuffs. "I have a different sort of proposal in mind for you. I want you to leave my son."

"Not a chance," Katara snorted. She started to head inside, but Ozai's hand shot out and caught her arm. Instinctively, Katara tried to yank her arm free.

"I think you should hear me out." Ozai's voice took on a hard edge of menace. Katara froze at the sound of it. Ozai's mouth curled into a smirk. "You've never struck me as a stupid young woman, Katara. I'm sure once you've heard my generous offer, you'll see reason."

"I'm not sure we have the same definition of reason," Katara said. She pulled her arm free of Ozai and glared at him expectantly. "I assume, you aren't about to offer us a minivan."

"In a way, perhaps I am."

"Please, oh please get to the point," Katara groaned. As intimidating as Ozai could be, he had a flair for the dramatic that bordered on ridiculous. He had stopped just short of stroking his beard. Being rushed was a peeve of his, and his displeasure at Katara was evident, even if he seemed to be doing his best not to scowl.

"What I am offering is a hefty settlement on you and your unborn child," Ozai said, at last. "I know that Zuko is planning to use his own inheritance from his mother and my brother, but I am aware of how much- or rather, how little it truly is. It'll be gone in five years, at most. But I am willing to give you enough money that you and your child will want for little. I'll even set up a trust for the child so you won't have to worry about paying for university-" Ozai's gaze drifted to Katara's house with a distasteful sniff, "-or trade school." Katara bristled.

"You can't be serious," she scoffed. "You really think that's all it would take to make me leave Zuko?"

"Name your own price, then," Ozai insisted. "Money is no object. I could make you a wealthy young lady, and all it would take is for you to absolve my son of any obligation to you and your child." Katara started at Ozai for a moment. She shook her head incredulously.

"You really don't get it, do you?'

"Get what?" Ozai demanded.

"The only obligation tying Zuko to me is love," she told him. "Just because we stumbled into things a bit backward doesn't mean that we're not both exactly where we want to be. I love Zuko, and even you don't have enough money to change that. So take your checkbook and shove it up your-"

"I was trying to be kind," Ozai cut her off. "I was offering you a secure future, which is more than most girls in your position get. But make no mistake, I intend to clean up this mess my son made. As hard as he is trying to ruin our family name, it's going to take more than some cheap little slut to accomplish it!" Ozai pointed at Katara's midsection and hissed, "That child will never be recognized as a Kaji!"

Katara gasped, taking a step back. She brought her hand up to her mouth to hide her quivering lip. Ozai smiled smugly and stood up straighter.

"Now that you understand that you stand to gain nothing from tying my son to you, perhaps now you'll listen to my very generous offer."

"No, it's not that," Katara sobbed wiping at her eyes. "It's just that what you said, that my baby won't be recognized as your family...that's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me. I'm so touched!" Katara let out a couple more sobs before giving in to the manic swell of laughter bubbling up her throat. She threw her head back, mouth opened wide, and spewed the deep-bellied cackles at the man who had tried to destroy Zuko. After a moment Katara caught her breath and wiped real tears from her eyes and turned her derisive gaze onto Ozai.

"We don't want or need your recognition," Katara told him. "And you don't ever have to worry about us bothering you with our baby. So why don't you beat it before I turn the sprinklers on you. That suit looks like it's dry-clean only." Katara spun on her heels and hurried into the house before Ozai could recover. She had her key in the lock and the door open when he started after her, sputtering half-formed demands and indignations. Katara shut the door nearly in his face and locked it after her. Ozai banged on the door a few times, hurling vile insults at her. Katara stood on the other side, bracing herself against the door with trembling legs, until his voice got further and she heard the sound of his sleek sports car starting, then peeling off down the street.

Part 1... Part 22, Part 23, Part 24