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Too many writers are using generative 'AI' to make their book covers, so I've written a guide on how to make your own cover for free or cheap without turning to a machine.

If you can't afford to pay an artist, you CAN make your own!

I hope this is a helpful overview that covers the basics and points to some free resources.

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A few things which are “canon” somewhere for people who are worried they’re stretching it too far

Arthur was killed by a giant cat. 

Arthur killed the cat.

Arthur didn’t fight the cat. Kay did.

Kay and Bedivere use salmon as taxis. 

Lucan is half giant, half lion. (This Lucan, Lucano in the original Italian, is evil and not related to Bedivere). 

King Arthur raided the land of the dead.

The human knight Caradoc Briefbras has three half siblings: a dog, a horse, and a pig.

A large portion of Arthur’s troops was killed a while before Camlann by his nephew’s attack ravens in self-defense. Arthur and said nephew were playing chess at the time and neither did much to stop it.

Merlin retired peacefully and went to live in the countryside with Taliesin.

Wherever Arthur walks, plants die. They don’t grow back for years.

Arthur had a spunky (half?) brother who died in battle after making a mysterious oath.

Dagonet is more or less able to run the kingdom when Arthur is gone. His biggest error is overspending on mercenaries.

Guinevere has an evil almost identical twin half-sister.

Hector beat up all the best knights except for Galahad while possessed by a demon.

Gawain plays tennis.

Gawain has used a chessboard as a weapon.

Near the start of his reign, Arthur left Lot in charge of the kingdom and went on a quest with a sassy parrot.

Gawain or Galahad succeeded Arthur as king. 

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Consider: Post-canon Zuko wakes up in the body of his childhood self, the morning of That War Meeting. Would he still speak against the plans, knowing his fate? What do you think he would do differently the second time around?

"Turned away at the doors, Zuzu?"

"Shut up, Azula," her brother sulked. But sulked weirdly, after staring at her too long and too wide-eyed, not like she'd surprised him but--

But like he hadn't expected her to be there. At all.

He turned away. ...He turned back. "Hey, Lala? Do you think you could help me practice that one set?"

He didn't meet her eyes.

She narrowed hers. "Which set?"

"The one I'm bad at."

She scoffed. Pushed away from the wall she'd been leaning against. "That's all of them, Dum-Dum."

He didn't shout or stomp or yell about the nickname. His lips twitched.

"It's okay," he said. "If you're afraid you won't be a better teacher that my instructor..."

It was the most obvious manipulation ever.

Perhaps if he proved an adequate firebending student, she'd work on his courtly survival skills next. Honestly, it was good that not even Uncle Gets-Cousins-Killed had been fool enough to take Zuko into that war meeting. She could only imagine how terribly that could have gone.

"Keep up," she said, and turned her steps towards the training grounds.

He did. There, and during the katas she ran him through.

Azula kept her eyes narrowed.

"Hey," he asked, "do you know how to bend lightning yet?"

As if he could have missed it, if she'd been able to get more than sparks. "I will soon," she said.

"You will," he agreed, and flowed through his next set. The one she'd only just mastered.

Father didn't notice how weird Zuzu was being. Uncle never noticed anything. Zuko ate dinner and asked a servant for seconds and didn't stutter or flinch or lose his appetite when father asked, coolly, what he'd done with his day. Azula's shoulders tensed, because one mention of how she'd squandered her own training time teaching him--

"Azula hogged the training grounds. For hours," Zuzu scowled, exactly like a petulant thirteen year old.

Exactly like he hadn't been acting all day.

By the time Father was looking her way, Azula had her usual smirk in place. "I'm sure there would be room for both of us," she said, "you're not afraid of a little friendly fire, are you, brother?"

Zuko sulked. And ate his seconds, like he was enjoying each bite. There was something in his eyes, like a joke no one else was getting.

---

Father died that night. A heart attack. There were the faintest of burns to either side of the treacherous organ; the royal physician hypothesized that he'd grabbed at his chest, fingers burning hot in his final moments; so hot they'd only exacerbated the problem.

The royal physician would never have been brought any victims of lighting strikes. Those that occurred in the capital did not generally require a doctor in the aftermath.

Zuzu ate a hearty breakfast.

He didn't order seconds. Azula gave him points, at least, for not being tacky.

---

The sages named Iroh as regent.

They named Zuko as Fire Lord.

"No," the tiny Fire Lord in his perfectly miniaturized Fire Lord robes said, sitting at the head of his war council. "We're not doing that. And I'll be reviewing all recent battle plans, as well. What's this I hear about a division of new recruits being deployed to the front?"

He did not mention how he'd heard of the 41st Division. No one asked.

"Prince Iroh, surely--" one of the generals tried to appeal.

The young Fire Lord's regent was looking as startled as the rest of them, for a moment. Then he sipped his tea, and smiled.

"Your Fire Lord is correct, of course. A change in our leadership--a change the other nations may mistakenly view as weakness--will necessitate a change in our strategy."

"Now," said their lord, "what, exactly, is our overall objective in this war?"

War, the new Fire Lord decreed, was not an end unto itself.

---

The new Fire Lord continued to have time, to pretend to be trained by her. Azula watched him. Adjusted her footwork. Did not tolerate, and was not offered, any commentary on who was teaching who.

"What did you do with my brother?" she asked, as they flowed from one set to the next. As her hands, poised to throw fire, just so happened to be pointed his way.

He missed a step. It didn't look like an act.

"I'm, uh. Right here?"

She didn't bother to dignify that.

He didn't bother to look worried about her hands, one movement off from a true attack.

He looked around, then grabbed her sleeve, and tugged her further from any walls that may hide ears. The royal family's private training grounds were wonderfully large, and wonderfully open.

"It's me," he said. "It's still me. Just. More of me? Longer of me?"

She narrowed her eyes. A familiar expression, by this point. "Explain."

"...I found the Avatar," he said. "And this is definitely his fault, but--but I guess it started at a war meeting, when I was thirteen."

Azula listened. It was a very Dum-Dum story.

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Prompt: Aang didn't know Zuko was raising a baby dragon

Aang tilts his head. He doesn’t lower his staff, because—because Zuko, but he doesn’t try hitting him again, either. At least, not anywhere near his chestplate, which the other boy is very suddenly defending like there’s a second Avatar inside.

“Do you… have something in there?” Aang asks.

“NO!” shouts Zuko, who definitely has something inside his armor. It makes a kind of scrabbly-paws-on-metal sound and then—

“Do you have a dragon in there?” Aang squeals. 

And maybe in retrospect he should have thought more before bouncing towards the fiery teenager, but in Aang’s defense there is the cutest, tiniest, fluffiest little maned dragon head he’s ever seen trying to peek out of Zuko’s neckline. And anyway, the other boy is way too busy backpedaling and trying to push the dragon’s snout back inside to Capture the Avatar, so. So Aang absolutely shoves a hand at the dragon’s nose for it to smell him, because that’s how you greet them—

—Or is that praying mantis-dogs?—

And then there is a Fire Prince squawking and shoving him away, which is definitely not a bending move, but not before a little lizard tongue tickles Aang’s hand which is so cute.

“Uh,” says Sokka, lowering his club. “I. I am not actually sure how I’m supposed to be reacting, here.”

“We’re fighting,” snarls Zuko, who is cupping protective hands over the dragon, and definitely not fighting. The dragon has wormed one stubby little leg and an adorably oversized wing out, and seems enthusiastically set on more. 

Which is the point where Zuko’s uncle finally catches up to them, at his usual leisurely pace. If he wasn’t with Zuko, Aang would maybe think that the older man wasn’t all that invested in catching him.

“Nephew, do you…” And then he catches sight of the dragon.

Zuko pales.

“Hello, Uncle Backup,” says Sokka, grabbing Aang and Katara’s arms. “And that’s our cue to go go go.”

Zuko chases them. Because he’s Zuko.

Zuko… gets ahead of them. Which is not very chase-y?

Zuko vaults into Appa’s saddle ahead of them and holds his hands up as Katara threatens him with a hovering stream of water. He… doesn’t seem to be leaving, or attacking, and his uncle is running after them way faster than Aang is used to, so. Yip-yip?

Katara and Sokka sit down, once Zuko’s uncle looks very small under them. Zuko keeps his hands up. The baby dragon is flapping its free wing appreciatively in the rushing air. And chirruping really cutely.

“So,” says Sokka, slowly. “You… needed a ride?”

“I don’t—” Zuko starts to shout, before lowering his volume, even if his tone is exactly the same. “I don’t need a ride.”

“Uh-huh,” says Sokka, even more slowly. 

Zuko continues to keep his hands up. His dragon is trying to squirm the rest of the way free, and has decided that gnawing at his chest plate is the way to do this. It’s making pretty good progress against the black and red paint. The metal, not so much.

Aang keeps glancing back from Appa’s head. “You, um,” he says, suddenly realizing that You seemed scared will probably just lead to more shouting. And fire. Which there has been a really noticeable lack of, and Aang kind of wants to encourage that. 

“Did your uncle not know about the dragon?” he asks, instead.

“Uncle is the Dragon of the West,” Zuko says, more quietly than Aang has ever heard him say anything. And also like it’s a full explanation. But judging by the equally confused looks on Katara and Sokka’s faces, this isn’t just another thing he’s missed during the past hundred years. 

The baby dragon huffs at its lack of progress. And flops, like an over-cooked and very dejected noodle, against Zuko’s chest. 

Zuko swallows. And stops glaring at any of them, because he’s no longer meeting their eyes. He lowers his hands, slowly, and works a shoulder strap free. It’s enough for the dragon to puddle limply down into his lap, where it curls into a very alert spring. 

“Do you know how someone gets the title dragon?” Zuko says. “By killing a dragon. Uncle thought he killed the last two. And father was—he was so mad, not that uncle killed the last, but that he killed two. That he didn’t leave some glory for the rest of our family.”

Sokka clears his throat, after the obligatory awkward silence. “Your family is… kind of messed up, huh?” 

“What was your first clue,” says the Fire Prince, his scarred face deadpan.

His very prominently scarred face.

Oh. 

Katara crosses her arms. Which makes her look grumpier, but she’s not able to bend as quickly like that, so Aang knows she’s feeling less going-to-waterwhip-you grumpy and more prove-me-wrong grumpy. 

“If killing it would be so glorious,” she asks, “why haven’t you?”

“It— She— She’s just a child. It wouldn’t be honorable,” Zuko says, straightening his back.

“Uh-huh,” says Sokka.

But Aang. Aang grins. “Hey! I’m a child, too!”

The Fire Prince groans, and drops his face into his knees. His dragon climbs up onto his head and, using his ponytail approximately like a tree branch, stretches both her wings out, and lifts her little nose to the wind.

(You can also read this and other prompts on AO3.)

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Some spirit manages to get the gaang and zuko a link that connects their minds. They can share thoughts and their past with each other.

Tweaking this to “and they share dreams” because that’s how I started writing it.

---

“Okay,” Sokka says, wrapping his sleeping bag around himself, and grabbing a comfort Momo, too. “Who’s dream was that?”

No one ‘fesses up. But it was kind of a rude question, and also a little rhetorical, anyway.

They all have nightmares with fire.

Having the Fire Lord himself looming over them, while they were on their knees? Not exactly a stretch.

---

“Okay,” Sokka says, “how does Prince Jerkface keep finding us?”

---

“Okay,” Sokka says, “how did he know that seal jerky seasoned just right with honey—not too much, just enough to add a sparkle of sweetness to the depths of savoriness, a perfect balance for the distinguished tongue to relish—was the perfect bait for his Sokka and Sokka-affliated-parties trap?”

“Maybe if you stop dreaming about it, Sokka,” Katara snaps.

...And they all stop.

---

“I’m going to think really really hard about being friends,” Aang says.

“I’m going to think really really hard about that time my boomerang hit him,” says Sokka.

---

Snatching the boomerang out of midair? Impressive.

Ignoring the Avatar to go hit Sokka with it? Repeatedly? Uncalled for.

---

“Sokka. The city is under attack. Right now.”

“Okay,” Sokka says. “But this is a strategic nap, Katara. We need to know what evil things our Evil Other is up to.”

It’s not like the evil fleet part was a surprise, at least. They’ve been dreaming of it for weeks.

---

“Okay,” Sokka says, looking down. “So the ship-blowing-up-thing. Not a nightmare?”

“No,” says Zuko, glaring up with his glare-face all glare-ful but his thoughts mostly full of bruises so deep they’re making Sokka’s ribs ache, and also his legs are going numb.

“Going to get out of the turtle-seal tunnel now?” Sokka asks, still standing over the opening. With his boomerang.

“...No,” the Prince of the Fire Nation says, as he clings onto the edge of the hole, his legs still very much in freezing water.

---

“Okay,” Sokka says, when they have a Fire Prince all tied up in Blankets of Imprisonment. “So. What actually was your plan here? Do not,” he interrupts, before the teenage-shaped bloodhound-leech can do more than open his mouth, “say ‘capture the Avatar.’”

The prince closes his mouth. Glares. And kind of fuzzes at the edges, in the way all of them do when they’re about to fall asleep.

BOOMERANG, Sokka thinks, and Prince Largely Ineffective As An Enemy jerks back upright. His Momo hat chitters a complaint.

“Since we both know your answer is ‘I had no plan, Sokka, ‘plan’ starts with ‘p’ and there’s no ‘p’ in ‘Avatar’’, we’re going to play a game instead. It’s called ‘sleepy prince free association interrogation time.’”

“...What?”

“Battle plans,” Sokka says. “Attack. Fire Navy fleet. Ship numbers.”

Alas, “Fire Nation intelligence” is not something with which the prince’s brain is overly burdened.

“...Are you insulting me?”

“Are you proving my point?”

Elsewhere, Yue laughs in all their heads. Zuko flinches. The prince has a very marked reaction to the laughter of princesses.

---

“Okay,” says Sokka. “So that just happened.”

Commander Mutton Chops is groaning. Kind of flopping. Much like the bag he tried to fireball. Yue picks it up, and gently wrangles a fish back into water. Sokka is still not clear on what the fish-napping was about.

“It’s the Moon,” Aang says. “Or maybe the Ocean?”

Aang’s thoughts are full of a FACE STEALING EVIL CENTIPEDE MONSTER THAT IS JUST ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE THIN VEIL OF REALITY and that is NOT helping Sokka think.

“Okay,” he says again. “So. At least we can all agree on one thing.”

This is a very diplomatic way of saying they all wanted to dropkick Zhao. But some of them wanted to do it more than others.

The prince of the Fire Nation is even paler than normal, and staring across the clearing at his uncle.

“I can explain,” the prince says, while he’s thinking, oh shit treason oh crap uncle wouldn’t hurt me thought that about father too

Sokka wordlessly plucks Momo from the edge of the pond, where he’s been swiping at the spirit-fish, and drops him on the prince’s head.

Everyone needs a comfort Momo, now and again.

---

“A raft, Zuko?” Sokka says. Outloud. Because it makes things louder when you say it and think it. “A raft?”

Aang is bouncing on his toes. “We should go get him.”

The Avatar is grinning. And thinking, really hard and deliberately, as behind them the Water Tribe ship finishes packing, We should capture the Fire Prince,

“Okay,” Sokka says, with a grin.

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"You were in my dreams last night" yeah our souls have been clawing through our chests to get to each other since we met but I'm glad you noticed

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Werewolf Be Upon Ye

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Reblog this if you had to learn cursive writing as a child

If you were ever told or were made to learn cursive writing when you were in grade school. I wanna see how many of you suffered like I did.

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