Atla Zuko - Blog Posts
why isn't atla trending I'm going insane my avatar phase is coming back and TUMBLR of all places isn't hyped? fake ass platform I expected better
unrelated but Zuko looks cool
If I had a penny for every time I developed an unhealthy obsession with an animated fictional character that became the bitter, resentful antagonist of the story after they’d been betrayed/ outcast by their (chosen) family and, in the process, obtained a scar on the left side of their face, I’d only have three pennies, which isn’t a lot but it’s still weird that it happened thrice
If redrawing this scene was illegal i’d be a wanted man
zukka shopping trip, now in sticker form!
thank you zukka nation <3
So i think Zuko and Sokka should have kissed aaand my feeling about that is.... first of all, how do you know they didn't? Y'know what I mean? It's a long treck to the Boiling Rock
Zukka shopping trip!
I edited it slightly <3
If they come im contact. The whole multiverse will collapse
Their hair completes each other
Reminds me of an angry wet cat
Zuko with baby Druk <3
Zuko with little baby Druk, although he’s not so small anymore. However he still acts like a big puppy, like when dogs grow up so fast that they don’t realise how big they’ve gotten so they’ll still try to sit/jump on you.
He’s probably thinking about honor
I tried procreate for the first time and it’s neat
2020 vs 2023 art is a journey, just keep going
I cried so much at the end of atla partially because of the realization that now, Iroh not only has Zuko as a son, but he has a whole gaggle of dumbass children to love and give wisdom to over cups of hot tea.
Wait for Me?
A presence appears on his vulnerable side. He doesn't turn to look nor does he tense nor let his breath get caught in his throat. “Hi,” he whispers into the tranquil quiet.
“Hi,” he hears barely.
He hums. “Would you mind if you transfer to my other side? It's hard to hear you when your words are this gentle and quiet....and, I want to see you.”
It was quiet but he felt his companion move to his right side. Still, he does not turn to look at the tuft of brown hair better, or the ever-so-slightly blemished warm skin. He merely looks on, admiring the astonishing view that the high vantage point gives him.
He sees hands fiddling, a rare sign of vulnerability that Zuko finds out of character—to give Zuko with trust he does not know he deserves. A long beat and Jet finally talks
“Did it ever mean anything?”
“It always did, for me. My heart has always been printed on my sleeve and I am not dishonest enough to be able to fake such authenticity.”
Silence.
“I did lie to you. I have lied about my name, and my character. I have lied about my scar, and about a lot else. But my feelings were as true as the sky is blue. Please, do not doubt that aspect of me.”
Yet another meaningful silence, a moment for his words to settle in Jet's mind.
“It hurt.”
“I know.” And he did. To find that your lover is part of a nation that you so passionately hate. To find that your lover's people were the cause of your misery, the slaughterers of your family and of your friends and of your village. That is a pain pill hard to swallow. “And I'm sorry.”
But, at the same time, Zuko was a child younger than Jet when it happened. And Zuko's only part in that act of sin was his ignorance and complacency. He does not say these things, for he knows he cannot handle Jet's wrath right now. His bellowing voice and his words.
“I hurt you too,” Jet mumbles almost too quietly for Zuko to pick up on, but he did. Mumbled with a cracking voice.
“You did.”
“I've hurt so many people.”
“You have.”
Jet bends over, forehead touching his hands from where they rest, clasped together, on the half wall before him. He takes a shaky breath and clenches his jaw. And then he straightens himself, moves his hands to grip the wall tightly instead, neck craned upwards and eyes blinking quickly. “What do I do?”
He turns to look at him—looks at the way his tanned skin glows warmly under the golden rays of the sun setting in the horizon, his straw-like hair that tells of a hardened life billowing with the gentle winds, and his brown eyes glinting with amber and hazel...yet dim and haunted.
Reluctance outlines his hands as his pale fingers glows almost white in contrast to the gaunt cheek to caresses. A miniscule twitch in Jet's hands doesn't go unnoticed, the clench of his fists and the frightful and hesitant gulp of saliva. Yet, despite it all—the fears and the doubts and the distrust, he leans his cheek into Zuko's awaiting palm.
Zuko looks at him with soft and fond eyes, the gold of his eyes glowing brighter than ever with the concentration of the sun in them. Jet looks at him from under his dark lashes for a miniscule moment before looking to the colorful sky.
Tentatively, Jet's calloused hands—and thin, thinner that it was before, thinner than it should have been, malnourishment highlighting the jutted bones of his knuckles—wraps itself around Zuko's, guiding it gently towards his chapped lips to press a kiss against his reddish knuckles that sends a message of a thousand unspoken words.
Jet lets his lips rest on the back of Zuko's hand, and in his humble ethereal glow, Zuko sees all the reasons his heart started fluttering for the man in front of him. Jet's eyes are closed and his hand squeezes his a bit tighter, as if he was daydreaming of a universe beyond their knowledge or maybe he was reminiscing of memories that feel out of reach—too good to be true but no less real.
And Zuko can only watch and ingrain the image into his brain for his mind to see and remember for all the days to come, to dream about in the star-filled nights, to feel when his memories slowly leave him in his old age—if he survives long enough to reach that.
But nothing can stay in the beautiful stasis for long, no matter how much he wishes it to, for time is never on their side and time will continue to take if he lets it. So he turns his hand in Jet's grip and watches him sadly open his eyes with a knowing and resigned glint. He holds Jet's chin and lifts it upward, commanding Jet to look at him.
Then he goes back to caressing Jet's cheek, letting the pads of his finger ink all of his wishes and desires on Jet's skin, hoping he is open enough for Jet to understand—and he does, if the shaky exhale was anything to go by. Zuko smiles affectionately.
“Let them learn, Jet, let them learn to forgive. And if they cannot, then you learn to let go, to move on and move forward, to heal.” He gently brushes away the fallen lash on Jet's cheek. “Heal, Jet. If not for yourself, then for anyone else. And if not for anyone else, then for yourself.”
Jet's eyes gained a teary sheen and he opened his mouth a bit then closed it with an exhale, pressing himself deeper into the soft touch of Zuko's. And he opens his mouth again to whisper, “I don't know how.”
He gazes into Jet's eyes, thoughts swirling behind the amber hue of his eyes. To say: you will figure it out, that is a promise and that is inevitable. Try and you will succeed. Open your mind and see yourself and see the world, see, Jet. Look and you're going to find what you seek. But for you to be able to move forward, you need to let go, Jet.
To tell him: you are not alone, not as much as you seem to think. And you will never be alone because I will always be there, at your beck and call. No matter what, I'll figure out a way to get to you.
Instead he says only, “you need to stop focusing on every bad thing and you need to start accepting the good things, or else you'll forever be miserable.”
“I don't deserve to…” Jet trails off.
And Zuko understands what was left unsaid. Because he's felt it so passionately, and believed in it for so long. And he knows it's not true.
“You don't need to deserve happiness, you just need to be. You've done awful things, yes, so make amends. You can't take it all back, but you can't swallow in despair forever.”
Jet looks at him, trying so hard to keep the tears at bay. He understands, just as he understood all of the messages sent in Longshot's language, all the words spelled out in Jet's eyes.
He presses a passionate kiss to Jet's other cheek and answers, “I will wait. For however long it will take you. For however long it takes you to find yourself and then find me.”
“And if I don't show up?”
He was silent, tasting words and sentences in his tongue, turning them on all sides to formulate something of an answer. “I’ll still love you.”
Jet hiccups and his breath hitch and tears fall down and he sniffles.
“But I’ll learn to move on, even though I’ll never stop loving you or learn how to. I’ll move on. And maybe we both would find someone else, but you will still be someone I have loved and I will love.”
“Even if I'm like this?”
“Yes.”
“I'm sorry.”
He presses a kiss to Jet's cheeks.
“I know, and I have never held it against you, but I have long since forgiven you.”
He presses their foreheads together.
“Say it and I will, Jet.”
Jet remains quiet but soon—”Wait for me, please....Zuko?”
He smiles as he feels Jet's breath against his lips.
“Okay.”
Imagine if Zuko's role and life and bloodline was taken even more extreme by the developers and writers and decided to make Zuko a descendent of Avatar Wan by making Sozin a descendent.
Zuko's Hell
In the darkest of nights,
The quietest of moments,
Amidst the harshest of cold winds,
Laying in the loud of the silence
The moonlight glints
The abyss grins
The shadows grow
The eyes stare
He stands petrified
Breath shallow and ragged
Eyes wide in terror
Mouth open in horror
In the past, he visits
In the present, he is
In the dark, he lies
In the pain, he lives
He hears laughing
He smells burning
He sees smiling
He feels he is hurting
A ghostly touch
Yet so painful
He cries
He begs
No one listens
Everyone laughs
They point and stare
Now they whisper and glare
The past of his
A lesson they teach
Experience he has
Pain he befriends
He remembers, words from him
He recalls, cries of his
They talk, the begging he did
They mutter, the sinful deed
Burning hot white pain
Tears streaming down his other eye
He sees, atop of him, his father
Grinning with a wild look in his eyes
Of many things, he wonders
Of his sisters crazed giggles
Of his uncle's cowardly response
Of his mother's absence
Of his father's abuse
Of his ignorance
Ignorance that caused the death of many
The losses of his
He cries
He sins
He watches
He tries
He helps
He rages
He whimpers
He wakes up
He's in another hell
And he thinks,
Only the demon of their hell
Finds it to their liking
He smiles
He's tired
He ages
He's alone
Once more
One last time
One more moment
He dreams
"He cupped my face so gently, so caring. His touch one of a loving father.
He other hand came to atop my head, like he was patting me for a assurance.
Then it came.
The searing hot pain.
It burned and burned, a white hot burn. It was so intense, like the sun came down to Earth and visited me, touched me with it's flaming hand and painful touch.
Then...
Nothing.
Everything was black, and for a millisecond, I was scared, frightened. Begging for my mother's comfort.
Next thing I know, I woke up, numb with anesthesia.
I was confused, moment of pain that occured before momentarily forgotten. My hand came up to my head and brushed against cloth. The bandage, hiding and obscuring the burn that was surely there from view. Memories flashed before my eyes and tears welled up in my eyes.
Hours later, I was told the news regarding my banishment and the fool's errand that my father sent me on.
That was three years ago, I'm sixteen now.
I still don't know who was in the wrong."
atla tumblr, i need help! (poll 2/2)
i'm working on a summer olympics atla au oneshot, and while i have picked some of the gaang's sports, i'm struggling a little extra with choosing sports for katara and zuko.
for reference, aang & toph are both rock climbers (for reasons that will be clear upon reading), sokka is a fencer (and yes, sokka calls his fencing sword a "space sword"), mai competes in the shooting event (because c'mon, mai with a gun just makes sense), suki does judo, and azula does volleyball (very competitively, think back to the beach episode).
!link to katara's poll here
the teenager in the iceberg- ch7 sneak-peek!!!
“Psht,” Aang rolled his eyes, sending a breeze to blow back Sokka’s sandy hair. “Katara’s a friend, Sokka. Dependable, just like Appa, or Momo.”
“Thanks.” Katara said flatly, pretending to suddenly be interested in observing the sand at her feet. Dependable. He sure did know what a girl wanted to hear.
“Hah, maybe you should go into the jewellery business, instead of doing your whole world-saving thing!” Sokka exclaimed from the water’s edge, seemingly unaware of the tension that had been crackling between the two benders only moments before.
“I don’t see why I can’t do both!” Aang ambled over to him, leaving Katara thoroughly confused and more than a little hurt. “I would say that you should start a business too, but it looks like you don’t have too much of a chance of breaking into the fishing industry.”
“Mmm, care to help? I don’t see you doing much more than watching from the sidelines.” Sokka shot him with the daggers in his eyes.
“A vegetarian fisher?” Aang raised an eyebrow, but walked into the water alongside Sokka regardless.
“Maybe you can do the bookkeeping for the business. I think you have the potential to have a real head for numbers.” The fish shot up beside Sokka, splashing teasingly, and Sokka lunged, only to come up with empty hands yet again.
Aang doubled over, weak with laughter, which was made worse when the fish came up yet again, just to splash Sokka with a small wave of water. “I think to have a bookkeeper, you need to be able to catch fish to sell,” he managed through his chuckling.
“Yeah, alright, Air-Boy.” Sokka fixed him with another glare, and before Aang could dart out of the water, Sokka tackled him, managing to submerge him for only a couple seconds before Aang erupted from the water in a burst of wind, using the waterbending he’d already learned to combat Sokka’s overeager splashing.
Katara giggled, settling back onto one of the larger rocks, but her smile faded as she watched the way Aang’s eyes shone in merriment, the way he grinned playfully. Katara’s a friend.
She couldn’t stop replaying the words over and over again, even as Sokka finally caught and roasted his fish, even as she and Aang foraged for the nuts and berries that would make up his dinner, even as she extinguished that night’s cooking fire.
Katara’s a friend.
She wasn’t sure if that was fully true. Not after the way she felt when she looked up at him, not after the way he’d jumped to protect her from Jet, not after the way her heart leapt into her throat at every accidental touch.
Was this only friendship, to him?
She cast a sidelong glance to Aang, curled up with Momo under woven orange-and-yellow sleeping sheets. Moonlight danced across the planes of his cheekbones, his skin sparkling as if cast from mica.
It was as if the moon spirits themselves were marking him as hers.
Wordlessly, she leaned over him, quietly adjusting the branches to his right until the moon caught on the leaves above him, until his face was no longer illuminated.
He wasn’t hers. She wasn’t sure why she had to keep reminding herself of that.
♥ check out the six chapters of this (ongoing) fic & my ao3 here! ->
^ zuko & azula's dynamic summed up perfectly and you can't change my mind
POV: zuko doing a total 180 at the end of season two of ATLA after a whole season of slowly improving as a person and finally listening to his uncle
we don't talk enough about how often katara saves aang. like she fully figured out how to pull water from somebody's LUNGS for him. ugh i love her!!!!
the following is an excerpt from my kataang multichapter fic called "the teenager in the iceberg", where aang is aged up to 16 in order to flip him and katara's dynamic into she falls first, he falls harder. this is from chapter four, which JUST DROPPED TODAY!!:D <3
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She watched in horror as dark fins began to rise from the water, and Aang looked back at her with fear in his eyes. He rose from the water, struggling to hold on to the shiny scales of the Unagi. The beast’s head rose out of the water alongside its torso, and it tipped its head curiously at the sight of Aang on its back, baring its teeth as it did. Aang jumped, swinging on the creature’s whiskers, trying to evade its sword-sized teeth. Without notice, it snapped its jaws open, unnaturally wide to the point of unhinging, and a concentrated jet of water shot out of its throat, sending Aang flying across the bay towards Katara. Even from the distance she was at, she could see that his body had landed wrong, unnatural, crumpled.
“AANG!” She shouted, wading into the water as quickly as she could, hoping with all her will that she could somehow outrun this ancient serpent hell bent on getting to Aang before she could. Aang didn’t stir. Against her own pessimistic judgement of their odds of survival, Katara somehow managed to scoop Aang against her, holding him tight. He was unconscious, and she couldn’t see if he was breathing. Another bolt of fear struck through her. Through blurry vision made hazy by fear and anger, Katara watched the Unagi rear its head again, but instead of holding Aang against her and waiting for their inevitable end, she struck back.
It happened so quickly, the wave of water that mirrored the rising tide of anger crashing through Katara’s own body. Her hand moved as if she wasn’t in complete control, and perhaps she wasn’t. Perhaps the spirits of water had looked kindly upon the two kindred souls. Or perhaps, Katara had simply moved in accordance with what the pure adrenaline that seemed to replace her very blood demanded.
The two of them were thrown backwards, Katara’s wave of water pushing them to the safety of the shore. She allowed herself only a second to catch her breath before rolling over to check on Aang.
Still, the Airbender did not stir.
“Aang. Please , wake up.”
He did not breathe.
She closed her eyes, running her hand along his chest, the heat that normally radiated from him snuffed out entirely. She could feel water there, in his lungs, weighing them down. The wrongness of it . She could feel the liquid tugging at her, the molecules themselves wishing to return to the ocean from whence they came.
She obliged them.
Katara coaxed out a thin tendril of the seawater, watching nervously as Aang shuddered involuntarily as the stream of liquid flowed through his lips. He coughed. Coughed again.
Another cough, and his eyes opened, and she was met with the comforting vibrance of his storm-cloud eyes.
“K-Katara,” He managed, the words strained by salt and sea. “Don’t ride the Unagi. Not fun .”
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♥ check out the first four chapters of this (ongoing) fic & my ao3 here! ->
actually crying over this interaction katara has in my fic on kyoshi island where she realizes how nice it is to have girlfriends
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“Guess what your brother’s up to…” Ayiti was beaming, barely holding back her laughter now.
“Spirits, I’m not sure I even want to know.” Katara rolled her eyes, carefully curling up the centuries old paper in front of her and tucking it alongside the others in her cloth satchell. “What, did he accidentally get a sword stuck in some important monument after bragging to some poor unassuming villager about his swordsmanship?”
“Better.” Ayiti’s eyes flashed with amusement as she settled into the plush stool opposite Katara. She reached forward, hands resting on the varnished wooden table as her elegantly almond shaped nails drummed rhythmically in anticipation. “I missed his grand entrance, but apparently, he’s been set on helping us poor, untrained Kyoshi warriors! He pranced his way in, going on and on about how he’s the best warrior in his tribe. I got there just in time to see Suki wipe the floor with him.”
Katara groaned in embarrassment, burying her head in her hands as she slumped against the table.
“No, no, you don’t need to be too embarrassed for him.” Ayiti rested a comforting hand on Katara’s arm as the Water tribe girl looked up, her scepticism apparent in her expression. “He was actually pretty sweet after Suki humbled him. He said he was ready to learn, that he had been overly cocky when he came in.”
Katara wrinkled her nose. “That doesn’t sound like the Sokka I know.”
“We were surprised too! He let us paint his face in the traditional style of Kyoshi warriors, even put on the armoured gown too!” Ayiti giggled again, remembering. “Although he was a little embarrassed when Aang saw him in it. I think Sokka interpreted Aang’s attempt to compliment him as Aang poking a little fun at him.”
“What’s Aang been up to, anyways?” Katara tried to make the question seem thoughtless, throwing in a shrug to accompany her words, but Ayiti’s shrewd expression saw right through her.
“Wouldn’t you like to know!” She crooned, a teasing grin on her face. “C’mon, you’ve gotta get your mind off of the Avatar, and you’ve had your nose buried in scrolls the whole day. Let me show the future Waterbending master around my little old village.”
Ayiti helped Katara gather the rest of the scrolls and drop them off in the guesthouse, then dragged her between the different stalls, chattering animatedly. Katara had never really gotten to have a girlfriend her age, and she couldn’t believe all that she’d missed out on. For once, she felt her age. Back home, she took care of so many of the village kids whose parents had been lost to fire nation raids. She felt like it was her responsibility, that it was the least she could do, and she did enjoy it.
But perhaps she hadn’t quite grasped what it had taken out of her.
For every hour Sokka spent hunting for food and training to be a warrior, Katara spent parenting children, washing laundry, cooking, cleaning, repairing homes and weapons. She wished for maybe the millionth time that she and her brother had been able to have proper childhoods, present parents to lift that burden from them. She remembered Aang reminding her that she still was a kid.
Here, walking around the market with Ayiti, she slipped into conversation excitedly, the two’s conversation oscillating between mentions of what the war had taken from them and more lighthearted teasing, and she was beyond grateful for the simplicity of a friend who saw her.
⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩
♥ this will be coming out along with the rest of ch4 on wednesday! check out the first three chapters of this (ongoing) fic & my ao3 here! ->
sooo.... anyone else ever wondered how different ATLA would have been if aang had been frozen at age 16 instead of age 12?
yeah... me too 😌 my new fanfic "the teenager in the iceberg" follows the events of the show, but with only aang aged up, while everyone else remains their canon age.
also...cmon....how funny is it to switch zuko and aang's iconic dialogue to "you're just a teenager!" "...so are you?"
this idea was originally inspired by the talented @allgremlinart's aged up aang drawings, so please go show them some love!!:)<3
enjoy the excerpts from chapter three, that just dropped this morning!
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Katara watched Aang take one last, painful look at the temple, then turn to the sky ahead, lit up in shades of orange, pink, and gold. She swore she could see arrows in every cloud, arrows like the ones inked across Aang’s body, and the gentle breeze that carried the crisp night air towards them seemed to wrap around them like a loving spirit.
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“...You have no idea where we’re going, do you?” Sokka sighed, turning the map that was held against Appa’s saddle with a couple of rocks toward himself. “I’ve been charting our progress, and it’s starting to look more like a scrap of paper a toddler is practising circles on than a navigational tool.”
“C’mon Sokka, I’m an Air nomad, travel is in my blood. I have a very strong internal compass. Besides, you’ll find that as a nomad, I’m a master of evasive manoeuvring.” Katara raised an eyebrow, looking up from her spot near the back of the saddle as she stitched a rip in Sokka’s pants. “Besides,” Aang continued, typical teenage boy overconfidence emitting from his tone of voice. “I know it’s near water.”
Sokka leaned over the edge of the saddle, eyes scanning the blue expanse below them that stretched as far as the eye could see. “We must be getting close then,” he scoffed, his tone dripping in sarcasm as he slouched back into his spot across from Katara.
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“Aang,” she said distractedly, “could you hold this for me?” She handed him the mirror.
“Y-yeah, no problem.”
She tugged out her hair ties, flipping her head upside down for a moment to make sure that it had all gotten loose, then she gingerly tugged a few tendrils of water from the nearby ocean and wrapped tiny streams around her hair, tugging out the crimped braid pattern and reviving her curls. Then, she carefully bent the remaining liquid back out.
She couldn’t see his face through her thick hair as she stood back up, but from his voice, Aang seemed impressed. “I get that you haven’t been able to learn any big combat moves, but for someone whose bending is self- taught, you sure have a pretty good handle on these smaller things.”
She properly flipped her head up now, curls and waves bouncing around her face. Her dark brown locks shone with honey-toned highlights, all different shades of caramel and chocolate sparkling as they framed her face. She reached up, gently twisting and clipping a few strands out of the way, but a few wayward pieces still fell forward, gently brushing against soft, full lips and smooth skin. Aang awkwardly froze for a moment, caught off guard by how different she looked when her hair was loose and free. He had a weird urge to tell her so, but bit his tongue, instead focusing on her answer.
“I learned most of the smaller things from helping Gran-Gran.” Katara’s eyes sparkled, clearly caught up in a vision of home as she reached up to brush up her hair. “ As she’s gotten older, her range of mobility has started leaving her. It’s not really comfortable or safe for her to stoop over to wash her hair, so I learned how to bring the water to her and wash it while she was sitting up, then I learned how to dry it for her fast.”
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Sokka yelped, his voice defensive and offensive all at once. “There is no way a bunch of girls in cutesy makeup and dresses managed to tie me up.”
“Awe, you think our makeup is cutesy? How sweet .” The girl's voice was crooning at first, sweet and gentle, but Katara could see from the way her muscles flexed as she held Sokka by the collar that there was venom hiding behind those words. She was right. “Throw him to the Unagi.”
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“Katara, c’mon, we’re supposed to be sticking together, where are you going?” Aang tugged at her arm until she was facing him, looking at her earnestly as if he hadn’t basically been flirting with all of those girls back there.
The words came out before she could stop them. “I thought monks weren’t supposed to go around flirting with any random girl, and they’re definitely not supposed to go around catering to a village full of fangirls.”
Aang raised an eyebrow, his expression teasing in a way that made Katara want to splash the smirk off of his face in a wave of water. “You sure have a lot of opinions on what you think monks are supposed to do, considering that I’m the only one you’ve ever met.” He shifted his weight, leaning in a bit closer. “Matter of fact, maybe it's just that you have a lot of opinions on what you think I’m supposed to be doing.”
Katara stiffened at the memory of the words that Sokka had just said minutes before. “Why would I care what you’re doing? I don’t. ”
Aang shrugged, reaching past her to grab a papaya and biting into it. After swallowing, he reached into Katara’s satchel, his hand brushing her waist as he pulled out some coins and quietly thanked the vendor. “Keep telling yourself that, Katara.” Hearing her name from his lips did something to her, but she kept her gaze level, eyes blazing with flame until Aang backed off.
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♥ check out the three chapters of this (ongoing) fic & my ao3 here! ->
"why are you so quiet, what's on your mind?"
"oh, nothing, just aang admiring katara without realizing he's in love with her"
guys, i am SO excited for tomorrow's new chapter of "the teenager in the iceberg" there's gonna be some great moment & generally im excited to start progressing past the first few episodes
here's a teaser excerpt!
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Sokka immediately jumped off, almost kissing the sand in relief, and Aang followed close behind. Katara moved to stand up and join them, but a combination of that nerve-sick feeling and a bit of light-headedness had her slipping a little, stumbling off the saddle. She would’ve landed face-first in the sand, but Aang smoothly caught her with a current of air, then offered a hand.
Once she was safe on the ground, Katara blushed, embarrassed that she’d lost her balance that easily. She moved to tell Aang, only to have Sokka take one look at her and burst out laughing.
“What?!” She snapped, suddenly overly self-conscious.
“Your hair!” He cackled, a shaking finger pointing at her. Confused, Katara reached out her hand to draw a tendril of water from the cold morning sea. She concentrated, forming it first into a sphere and then a flat oval, then stilled the water so that she could see her reflection…
Only to drop the water in surprise when she finally saw what Sokka was talking about. Her carefully done hair was snarled around in its braids, bits of it loose and bits of it still intact. She huffed in annoyance, then fished out a small glass mirror and her hairbrush.
“Aang,” she said distractedly, “could you hold this for me?” She handed him the mirror.
“Y-yeah, no problem.”
She tugged out her hair ties, flipping her head upside down for a moment to make sure that it had all gotten loose, then she gingerly tugged a few tendrils of water from the nearby ocean and wrapped tiny streams around her hair, tugging out the crimped braid pattern and reviving her curls. Then, she carefully bent the remaining liquid back out.
She couldn’t see his face through her thick hair as she stood back up, but from his voice, Aang seemed impressed. “I get that you haven’t been able to learn any big combat moves, but for someone whose bending is self- taught, you sure have a pretty good handle on these smaller things.”
She properly flipped her head up now, curls and waves bouncing around her face. Her dark brown locks shone with honey-toned highlights, all different shades of caramel and chocolate sparkling as they framed her face. She reached up, gently twisting and clipping a few strands out of the way, but a few wayward pieces still fell forward, gently brushing against soft, full lips and smooth skin. Aang awkwardly froze for a moment, caught off guard by how different she looked when her hair was loose and free. He had a weird urge to tell her so, but bit his tongue, instead focusing on her answer.
⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩
♥ check out the two chapters of this (ongoing) fic & my ao3 here! ->
sooo.... anyone else ever wondered how different ATLA would have been if aang had been frozen at age 16 instead of age 12?
yeah... me too 😌 my new fanfic "the teenager in the iceberg" follows the events of the show, but with only aang aged up, while everyone else remains their canon age.
also...cmon....how funny is it to switch zuko and aang's iconic dialogue to "you're just a teenager!" "...so are you?"
enjoy the excerpt from (the upcoming) third chapter!! updates every wednesday!!
⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩
Aang led the way through the temple, and Katara winced at every single skeleton that lined the halls of the stone pathways carved through the sacred building. Aang couldn’t look at them, didn’t let himself look at them. Katara didn’t blame him for it. She hadn’t been able to look at the handful of bodies left after every Fire Nation raid, and yet, here were the bodies of all of his people, his entire culture.
She was snapped out of her spiralling train of thought by the screech of stone against stone as Aang funnelled air through a complex looking lock system, the gears driving it creaking from disuse. Sokka and Katara flinched, but Aang stayed still.
The door opened to hundreds, if not thousands, of stone statues, gazing unflinchingly back at them.
Sokka dropped into a defensive position out of habit, as if the statues would lunge toward them at any minute, and Katara just rolled her eyes and giggled at her brother, pushing past him as she stepped towards the statues in awe. Weaving between them, she stopped at one of a woman with traditional water tribe clothing that made her heart twist with homesickness. She felt Aang standing behind her, his exposed chest through his one-shoulder robes radiating heat in a way that made her face flush with colour.
He reached up over her to brush a finger against the statue’s delicately carved hair. “She has your little…hair thingies.”
Somewhat unconsciously, she reached up to brush her own loops of hair, grazing the white bone-beads with her ring finger. “I didn’t realise the great Avatar paid attention to things like that.”
A teasing smile spread across Aang’s lips. “I think you’ll find that I’m a very attentive person.” He said the words innocently enough, but the way honey seemed to wrap around every syllable caught Katara off guard, sending warmth spreading down her spine as she momentarily forgot how to speak.
Aang grinned again, looking as though he was about to add something, before a chittery, squeaking noise echoed through the room, bouncing between statues. “What was that?” Sokka yelped, jumping away from the statue whose armour and sword he had been examining. The screech of metal against stone sounded from somewhere on Sokka’s side of the room, and both Katara and Aang quickly wove between statues to join him, all three tensing.
From between the statues, the sound got louder, and a helmet dragged between the sculptures, moving haphazardly as it scraped against the floor.
“GHOSTIE!” Sokka yelped, jumping backwards as he pointed an accusatory finger at the helmet. Katara stayed silent, visibly pale. Aang looked back at the two of them, then faced the helmet again. He stepped through those same strange airbending forms, his movement ending with the sharp expulsion of wind from his fist. The helmet blew away, clattering against the stone, revealing….
⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩
♥ check out the two chapters of this (ongoing) fic & my ao3 here! ->
i'm crying we don't talk enough about how they probably had to have a whole awkward introduction
like zuko really would have had to be like "i'm sorry, so sorry for following you around and almost killing you....avatar...and friends...?"
and they would've had to have a whole awkward name exchange
and sokka definitely went in for a fistbump instinctually then zuko tried to give him a handshake awkwardly and just.....
i love that he knew literally none of their names but spent all his time obsessively following them around
His ass does not pay attention enough to know all of their genders. Toph wears baggy clothes, he squinted at her and went “yeah that’s a boy. Or boy adjacent. Probably.” and moved on. Ally???
