#and its going really bad until zuko just...gets sick and tired and picks up some sticks and shit and just

[snogards]

Headcanon that Zuko isn't just a master swordsman, but just really proficient with weaponry in general.

Swords, bows, spears, axes, knives, war hammers, crossbows, you name a weapon, and he probably knows how to use it well enough to teach you how to use it and then master it yourself.

He prefers his dual Dao because he's most proficient with them, but odds are that someone can just hand him a random weapon, and he can use it near perfectly.

When Zuko was younger and his bending still hadn't presented, Iroh used his connections to find him teachers like he did with Piandao in canon, because he didnt want Zuko to feel lesser (it majorly backfired but hey now he's got skills). For example, his archery teacher was a former member of the Yuyan Archers.

And then when Zuko’s fire-bending finally presented itself, he just kinda...kept up with it? Because he just learned how to use all these weapons freakishly well and weirdly fast, so why give it up after putting so much effort in? And now he's a prodigy in weaponry? Like yeah, that doesn't hold much weight in the royal family, but hey, it counts for something, right? He thinks to himself that his skill is gonna be useful at some point, right? Right, Uncle? This will be useful someday? RIGHT?

[loversamongus]

Friends, Fevers, Family Movies

a/n: first one shot for @fromthewatertribe‘s 1k follower event! This turned out to be A LOT longer than I expected and it was also originally for a whole other prompt??? And then just??? Evolved into this??? I knew I wanted to write something that featured a Sokka friendship (and a Katara one!) but also feature good ol’ Zuko fluff. So here ya go. Word vomit. TO CELEBRATE NINA BEING AWESOME.

Also important: written as a world without covid, but does mention the flu. prompt: go to bed, you idiot.

words: 2k

relationship: Zuko x reader

Sharing an apartment with your best friends has its highs and lows. On the bright side, you truly lucked out between the epic prank wars, overly competitive game nights, and the bureaucratic division of chore responsibilities. However, there’s also the constant paranoia that someone can jump out of your closet in a gorilla costume, the frustrated search for the last blue Sorry piece after a certain sore loser flipped over the coffee table, and Katara’s insistence on hand washing all dishware even though the kitchen has a perfectly good dishwasher. The three of you never experience a dull moment.

And you’re so grateful to be living with them. Sokka and Katara are your best friends but now it’s like having a brother and sister of your own. Due to the smaller size of the apartment, you and Katara share a bedroom but neither of you would have it any other way. Though you both have your own corner of the room, you’ll spend hours laying on the gray shag rug in the middle between your beds just talking.

“Today, at the diner, a man had the AUDACITY to call me ‘pretty girl’ and like, yes I am pretty but I don’t need an old coffee-breathed, wrinkly limp noodle to tell me that so I assumed he was just stating the obvious and that I should also call him by obvious nicknames in order to better communicate with and understand the customer, as my manager puts it.”

“And what did you call him?”

“When I came back with their food, he said, ‘Can the pretty girl also get us some mayonnaise packets?’ And I said, ‘Not a problem, ‘crusty man.’”

Katara tried her darnedest to flash you a severe look but couldn’t help choking on a fit of giggles.

“Suki approves of it and we spent the rest of our shift calling each other different names when we crossed paths!”

The rest of the night would linger on with more work day stories, giggles, and Sokka occasionally pounding on the door for you both to shut up already because he is trying to sleep goddamnnit and can’t do that while the apartment is filled with your shrill girlish squeals.

Finally, when you both struggle to fight off sleep, you wave the white flag and drag yourself into bed. But just before you drift off, you hear Katara whisper your name from across the room. You’re not even sure if she’s awake, you’re both so tired, but you answer anyways.

“Hmm?”

“What do you think of Aang?”

“He adores you (yawn) it’s so sweet. I like him for you.”

There’s a silence and you think you’re free to finally fall into your dreams until Katara speaks again.

“What do you think of Zuko?”

“Hmm? I dunno, he’s our (yawn) friend and I like when he brings over (yawn) fireball for game night (yawn) why?”

Your exhaustion overpowers you before you could hear Katara respond, “Because he adores you, it’s so sweet. I like him for you.”

Although also your best friend, living with Sokka feels much less sweet and much more chaotic. Somehow you’re at each other’s throats more so than he is with his own blood related sister. It may have started when the Sock Battle started, a game in which Sokka made it his mission to hide his stenchiest pair of socks somewhere in your stuff. By now, you’ve found his socks in your pillowcases, in textbooks, in your gym bag, and in a picture frame next to your bed. You deliberately retaliate in any way you can during game night. While these instances often have you second guessing your friendship with him, you and Sokka could both put the bickering aside with a Disney movie and a bucket of buttered popcorn.

You could have killed him though when he gave you the flu. Katara was spared thanks to her daily regimen of vitamins and obsession with cleanliness, and Sokka had even recovered rather quickly. But you were not as lucky. Even though it was only the beginning of October, you had Katara dig out your flannel holiday pajamas to warm you up from the chills. The darling that she is, Katara made you her famous homemade soup and set it by your bedside table before heading out to see Aang. In the meantime, it was time for payback.

“Sokka, I need you to refill my water bottle.”

“Do it yourself.”

“Fine and when I get over to the kitchen I’ll lick every bag of beef jerky you own.”

“Oh my god, fine. Give me your water bottle.”

“Sokka, I need to charge my phone. Give me your charger.”

“No? Yours in your room, go get it.”

“If only my legs weren’t so weak from this terrible flu I’ve contracted from someone I trusted to be more hygienic.”

“Here, take it.”

“Sokka, you need to light a candle in the bathroom. Ooh do the rose petal one.”

“Ugh, no. You know I hate yours and Katara’s girly scented candles.”

“Okay, but then don’t complain about the smell when you go in.”

“It can’t be that bad— OH MY GOD DID SOMETHING CRAWL OUT OF YOU AND DIE?! OH MY GOD IT’S TRAVELLING. IT’S TRAVELLING THROUGH THE APARTMENT.”

By the fourth day of having the flu, Sokka was sick. Not of the flu. Of you. Katara had been spending as much time with Aang as she could to avoid catching anything from you so the responsibility of taking care of you fell on Sokka. And he was finally reaching the breaking point after you left used tissues all over “his side” of the couch. You snuggled into your pile of blankets as you watched your best friend grumble about the living room, every so often glancing at you while muttering incoherently.

After picking up the last of your snot filled, flu infected tissues, Sokka stood in front of you and took a long, exaggerated breath.

“I am leaving this Land of Disgusting to eat at the diner before driving Suki home.”

“Sokka, you had me at ‘I am leaving.’”

“Shut up. You still have a fever so I’ve called in reinforcements to look after you while Katara and I are both out. They’ll be here shortly after I’m gone. Can you handle yourself for 10 minutes?”

“Aye aye, captain.”

Before leaving, Sokka grabbed one more blanket from your room to bring to you on the couch. You realize how lucky you are to be such a pain in the ass and still be so loved by your little family. These happy thoughts, along with the utter amusement over the possibility of Toph being the one taking care of you, lulled you into a short, soft nap.

When you open your eyes next, the living room is dark, save for the small lamp in the corner of the room. As you go to stretch out your legs on the couch, your feet kick into something that wasn’t there before.

“Sokka?” you ask wearily, assuming your friend is back from dropping Suki off home.

“Nope.”

It wasn’t Sokka’s voice. Nor was it Toph’s. Trying your best to sit up under the weight of five blankets, you turn your head to see Zuko’s face illuminated by his phone’s screen as his thumb continued to scroll.

“Oh. Hi.”

He looked over at you. “Hey. Can I get you anything?”

It takes you a moment to get over the fact that Zuko is the reinforcements, the one called to take care of you while your roommates are out of the apartment. But finally you respond, “Actually, my throat is really dry. Can you grab my water bottle for me?”

He reached over to the coffee table to grab your water bottle for you. Then, after handing it you, Zuko went back to looking at his phone.

“Katara says you have to take your medicine once you’ve woken up.”

“Ugh noooooo. I don’t want to.”

Taking pills has never been your been your strong suit. Maybe it’s your irrational fear of choking on them or just your innate ability to be stubborn about everything but you try to put up your best fight.

“You have to. Or else we’ll have to cancel another game night or you just won’t be able to play with us. And then who would kill Sokka first in Among Us.”

“You’ll have to continue my legacy, that’s all.”

“Just take the pills. I already cut them up for you.”

“Fine... thank you.”

After you swallow the last pill, you lay back down on the couch but Zuko gets up.

“Where are you going?”

“Since you’re up now, let’s watch a movie. There’s nothing else you should really be doing in your condition.”

“I have my DVDs on my shelf in my room. Pick me a Disney movie?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh my god, please? I am very sick and frail and only the nostalgic joys of my childhood can cure me.”

“....fine.”

You muster up a squeal that quickly turns into a cough as Zuko leaves the room. After a few minutes he comes back with Toy Story 2, a choice that makes you raise an eyebrow considering its heartbreaking song is not something you’d expect Zuko to want to watch. Nonetheless, you hardly protest as the two of you settle in on the couch for the movie to begin.

To your surprise, the animated movie managed to steal a couple chuckles from Zuko. After all the bickering throughout the week with Sokka, it was a welcome and pleasant sound ringing in your ears. Despite your better judgment, you shift closer to him, especially when you know Jessie’s big song is getting closer. He doesn’t move away though and even wraps an arm around you. When a chill runs down your spine, you wonder if it’s due to the fever.

“Are you crying?”

“It’s just SO sad, how could you not, Zuko?! Somebody needs to LOVE HER AGAIN.”

Grinning, he hands you the tissue box, which you fully accept both for your tears and flu-inflicted runny nose. But once the song ends and you’ve let out a good cry, your eyelids start to feel enormously heavy. Zuko must sense this because he scoots a bit closer to you, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder. You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to pass the flu onto Zuko, but for some reason he feels warmer than the mountains of blankets you’re buried under.

The rest of the movie plays on and you struggle to keep your eyes open, often shifting against Zuko to wake yourself back up. You know there’s more to the movie but Zuko picks up the remote and turns off the tv. Before you could even question what he’s doing, he’s lifting you up and walking you to your room.

“But we didn’t see the end of the movie!”

“You weren’t going to stay up to see the end anyways.”

“But you needed to see Jessie and Bullseye find new homes! With Andy! And Wheezy!! Wheezy gets fixed!!”

He helped you under the covers and sat beside you on your bed for a moment. You still feel enough energy to offer up a few more protests.

“Only the end of the movie can cure me with its pure, unadultered childhood joy! You can use some, too! Disney fixes all things!”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, but before getting up, Zuko leaned in to kiss your forehead lightly.

“Go to bed, you idiot.”

You didn’t even register when he left your side because you were asleep again within minutes. In fact, when the sunlight from the bedroom window wakes you up hours later, you could have sworn it was all just a fever dream anyways. Disney movies cuddled up with Zuko? Definitely sounds fake. However, later on in the morning, you do begin to suspect it was all real when you find your Toy Story 2 DVD still in DVD player and catching Katara and Sokka trying to discreetly give each other a high five.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Speak No Evil (Part 2)

It is all fuzzy now. She doesn’t remember how she got home and she can’t quite place where she had been before she got there. She just knows that she had been somewhere else and that she is in the palace infirmary now.

She remembers that she had stormed off after a heated argument--argument implies that there had been some pushback, she reminds herself--but she doesn’t know where to. Really she ought to be trying to recollect what had happened. Instead she finds herself wishing that TyLee had yelled back. Had told her that she is an awful person or that she isn’t as great as she tries to be. Anything that could paint the princess herself in a better light. But the facts are all there; as per usual she is malicious. She is everything that Mai has been telling TyLee to avoid and get away from.

Azula can’t say that she has expected any different, no one is there by her bedside to greet her and no one comes to check on her for a better  part of the day. When the palace doctor does come by, she flatly asks the princess how she feels before flinching to herself. Azula isn’t sure why the woman is cringing until she opens her mouth to speak.

And she remembers. She remembers all of it. She touches her fingers to her throat, tears prickle at her eyes. She shudders; what has she done to herself? She should have stayed within the palace and waited for her episode to play through. She should have done a lot of things and she shouldn’t have done a great deal more.

The nurse awkwardly shuffles out, likely to fetch Zuko. But an hour goes by and no one else shows up. Her mind wanders. Wanders back to a gorgeous night, a night that feels like a distant memory.

.oOo.

Her mind was distant, still moving in circles, unable to leave that morning’s argument. The more she thought about it, the worse it felt, the more assured she is that she is a bad women. Perhaps the worst. That TyLee has and always did deserve better. Better than her manipulations and her biting remarks. It came to her then that she could make things better. She needed words to twist and a silky, pretty voice to speak them with. She wouldn’t be able to eloquently lie and connive if she hadn't’ a voice to do it with. By extension, she couldn’t hurt TyLee if she couldn’t speak.

She looked towards the sky and at the blade in her hand. She wandered further away from the palace, there were too many people about. She had thought of that, but put no consideration into what would happen if she didn’t have the strength to walk herself back to the palace. She would bleed out, surely, but that didn’t yet register.

She wandered until she reached the Capital City green, a thick spot of preserved jungle. The blade shook in her grasp. Even at the climax of her insanity, she had the sense to be afraid. But she is a strong woman. She has always been a strong woman. Her mind raced in silence, she had a mission and she was going to see it through.

She stood in a beam of moonlight, it caught and glinted on the blade as she brought it to her mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut and her stomach lolled as came to lick metal. She pushed the blade down with more force and was met with the taste of copper. The blade fell from her hand as she doubled over, nearly hurling. She felt sick and dizzy. Her world going fuzzy with anxiety and agony and she had yet to sever her tongue all the way through. She dropped to her knees and fumbled for the blade. It nipped her trembling hand and she reflexifly pulled back with a hiss.

She couldn’t do it. She didn’t even have the dignity to finish what she started. The sound that broke from her throat was gurgled and tortured. The princess found that pain was quite sobering. Lucidity was working its way back in and she wished that it would retract again.

She picked up the bloodied blade and conflictingly thanked her senses for coming back on time to stop her from slashing at her mouth with a dirty blade. But she could still talk and that was no good. She still had enough madness left to make her way out of the capital and into the jungle.

Since the war’s end it has been teeming with spirits. She couldn’t imagine that it was going to be too hard to find one of them to steal her voice from her. Her bloodline wasn’t well loved and the spirits always did have an inclination for poetic justice.

She was growing very faint and began to wonder if they would ever find her. Likely they would when her absence was noted and extensive sweeps were done. They would find her, face down with blood drooling from her mouth.

The spirits largely ignored her until she began her endless tirade. Eventually one of them would grow tired of her and shut her up. They proved to be surprisingly patient. And perhaps it was because they couldn’t understand her slurs and curses. Much of her speech was lost to swelling and wetness. She couldn’t be certain for how long she had ranted and raved and vowed to throw the universe out of balance, but they finally grew tired of her.

She had the sense to be afraid when the first of them paused to stare at her and the sense to be terrified when the rest of them caught on. She had the sense to be petrified when she realized that she had made a mistake. That she wouldn’t be able to simply undo this.

“No, wait.” She managed weakly. She couldn’t even understand her own words. She stumbled back and, growing dizzier by the minute, hit the ground below. That was when it first registered how truly lovely the night was; how friendly the temperature, how gentle the sounds…

They were on her in seconds but one towered over the rest. It was a tall and willowy thing. Elegant. Gentle looking. It shimmered like stars reflected on a sea. The creature, she deduced, was made of many strands of iridescent wisps. Or perhaps, the iridescent wisps were merely perpetually gravitating around it.

And when it spoke it’s voice was tiered. High and low all at once. Harsh and smooth. Masculine and feminine. Loud and soft. “Princess, Azula.” Her name on its tongue was every bit as pleasing as it was damming. Azula’s lips curled up into a sad smile; the sound of the start of her undoing was gorgeous. She let herself go passive, her trembling subsiding. She thought that her brain might have solemnly accepting the fate that it had led her to.

“You have provoked a powerful bunch.” It gestured about the jungle. She was well aware. “We should have you killed.”

She hadn’t thought of that but she found herself nodding. Nodding in agreement. It was probably for the best…

Her body went tense and her throat restricted. There was a tugging and a yanking, she felt as though she were being choked. She squeezed her eyes shut, unsure if the tears that dripped down her cheek were born of emotion or the throes of death.

She knew by the end of it, when she was left shaking and sobbing, that they were born of emotion because she hadn’t been dying at all. Merely suffering. There was a throbbing in her throat, the remaining residue of her voice. And it hurt. It hurt in a strangely numb and hollow way.

She watched a thin golden-blue wisp curl vividly around the spirit’s long neck. It pulsed and beat with the throbbing ache of her throat. The spirit spoke and she could feel it in her throat. The others gather around it to listen. “Such a pretty voice, wasted on such evil things.” It commented. She can never be sure if it was a trick of her mind or the intent of the spirit, but her own voice spoke back to her, louder than the rest. “I will use it better.”

She couldn’t bring herself to disagree. It might have been absurd, but in the wake of the spirits, she found herself wondering if she could have had herself a singing career.

.oOo.

The nurse is back and Azula calls out to her. Though her mouth does move and the muscles in her throat do work, no sound comes forth. It isn’t that she has forgotten, she is well aware that she wouldn’t utter another sound. It is more or less a habit. She thinks to stand and tap the woman on the shoulder but it would be pointless; she can’t communicate that she wants to see Zuko or TyLee.

She rises from the bed anyhow and the nurse comes to beckon her back down. She shakes her head vigorously.

“Princess, you have to rest.”

She shakes her head again and gestures to the door. She mouths her request, that she wants to see TyLee. Either the nurse doesn’t understand or she doesn’t care. Her stomach tightens as she tries to force out a sound that she knows won’t come. The nurse firmly pushes Azula back onto the mattress. “Don’t do anything that is going to further compromise your health.”

Azula rolls onto her side, face bunching up into an ugly, silent sob. She realizes that she can’t even vocalize that much; a wet pillow and tear streaked cheeks are the only indication that she has spent the hour crying to herself.

No one visits her. They are angry at her again. She is alone again. She thinks that she has probably been alone this whole time, she only notices it now because her loneliness is physical.

The only people that come to see her in the passing days are a steady rotation of palace staff. If only she could tell them to put her down. She waits for them to vacate before getting to her feet. Physically, Azula feels rather well. Even if it is an illusion, she can’t bring herself to regard her own well-being.

They have her dressed in only a soft pink medical shift and long socks. She must be quite a sight, meandering about the halls. She finds Zuko, Mai, and TyLee gathered around a pai-sho board, laughing and conversing. She swallows, her breath catching in her throat. She balls her fists and takes a step forward before turning to retreat.

She feels a hand on her shoulder. “You should be in the infirmary.”

She opens her mouth to ask him why he hasn’t come to see her. She closes it again. She doesn’t need to ask anyways, she knows that it is because he is angry with her. She stares at him.

“Come on.” She resists his gentle push and makes one of her own. Shoving past him, she finds herself a seat near Mai and TyLee. She knows that she is unwanted, but she wants to be wanted and so she stubbornly holds her ground.

“Azula.” Zuko says through gritted teeth. “They told me that you were found in the jungle bleeding from the mouth. You have to go back…”

She shakes her head, points to the spot she sits in, and folds her arms over her chest.

“Come on, Azula.” He takes her by the crook of her elbow. She looks to TyLee and Mai. TyLee averts her gaze and Mai scoffs.

Azula reaches out to caress TyLee’s cheek, Mai slaps her hand away. “Don’t you dare touch her.” She hisses.

Azula’s finds that her stomach is getting queasy again. She has never hurt TyLee, not like that. She never would. She doesn’t realize that she is trying to say as much until Mai’s brows furrow. She stops trying to talk.

TyLee peers at her with wide, sad eyes. It occurs to her that, even if she could put aside her pride long enough, that she wouldn’t even be able to apologize to the woman. She swallows and bites the inside of her lip. She flinches in pain as her freshly stitched tongue hits the roof of her mouth, even still, she makes no sound.

“Y-you can’t talk?” TyLee notes, it is somewhere between a question and an observation.

Zuko’s hold loosens as Azula gives a confirming nod.

“Oh, Azula.” TyLee remarks softly. “What did you do?”

“No.” Mai grumbles. “No. She did this to herself and just because she hurt herself, that doesn’t mean that she gets to get away with hurting you again.”

“But…” TyLee starts.

“No, TyLee. She can deal with this on her own. You cleaned up that picnic for her, she can clean up her own mess this time.”

‘I’m trying.’ She mouths. But she doesn’t believe herself either. She lets Zuko walk her back to the infirmary. She waits for him to leave before pulling the blankets around herself and bunching up. She feels sick. She thinks that she has finally forged herself a conundrum that she can’t work her way out of. Even still, she knows that she has to fix things. Yet she doesn’t even know where to start nor how.

[applecherry108]

first of all hooooooooolyyyy shiitttt

FUCK tungle. it took like 30 tries to log in on desktop. admittedly, i was using the wrong password at first, BUT, even when i remembered the right one it kept giving me shit. This is what i get for being L337 i guess... -_-

anyways, im only on desktop so i can add a readmore to say:

i just,,,,,hate voltron. okay? It sucked. it fucking sucked. i watched the first season and it was like, okay yeah, this has potential. and then s2 was like, okay yeah not as good but maybe s3 will pick up...

s3 didn’t pick up. it was just one long death spiral by the same idiots who fucked up the atla sequel. i hate their writing, i hate their story plots, i hate how they butcher any good ideas they have, and i especially hate their inability to have good character AND plot development happen at the same time.

I got swept up in storm of klance and that’s about it. i have soft spots for other ships but at the end of the day i don’t care. i just don.t fucking,,, care???

the fandom is a mess, the crew was a mess, everything was a fucking mess from the get go.

Like who tf is this show written for?? it has to be for like, 8-10 year olds. It has to be. Everything is just so....stupid. Nothing is ever properly explained, motivations never really given, everyone is just a 2 dimensional cardboard cutout of a trope. And that pisses me off so much bc like??? other shows aimed at young kids can still have great world building. they can have good world building and characters and overall story and still be cheesy and a lil dumb. cheesy and a lil dumb is completely fine!! but voltron is just so...godammn... BORING!! it’s like i WANT to like the characters but its just so goddamn hard when everybody is so fucking flat. by all rights, i should want to marry allura. shes everything i loved when i was little, from her color pallet to her princesshood to her white fucking hair!! i should LOVE allura but i don’t!! i kind of hate her. why?? i don’t know!! shes so...boring! and flat! and fucking PASSIVE! everything in this show lands so fucking flat holy shit.

pidge at matts “grave”? yikes, that was second hand hard to watch for like.... “oooh this is so serious!” but the buildup wasnt there...it was kind of funny tbh... and HELLA awkward...

don’t get me started on lance and hunk. bolin was my favorite look character for the first few episodes and then he got knocked to Comic Relief and had maybe two (2) importantish moments. he/they may be part of the main cast but they’re not main characters. they feel like background props to the Actual Main characters.

which brings me to keith.

FUCK keith.

that’s my reaction after every! new! season!! is just,, FUCK keith. god the show functioned SO WELL without him. he’s just so...idk. i also don’t care. what was his character arc anyway? it SHOULD have been about learning to love and trust others but we only get that in lip service and speed run character development (i hate the quantum abyss...so much... like yeah, who cares about SHOWING our characters mature, let’s just tell that it happened in afucking montage.) if keith were a properly developed character he shouldve remained PASSIONATE and idk, run support?? that boy SHOULD have piloted red, end of story. period. keith doesn’t need to lead he needs to learn to TRUST others and that insludes trusting other WITH HIS LIFE. i won’t rant about how we should have had black paladin lance, but keith should have never ever been black paladin. even after he “matures” he still sucks at. he’s this awful,,little,, Shiro 2.0. and I hate it. i ahte it and i hate shiro just a little bit. even though he was arguably the most likeable character, he shouldve stayed dead. or missing. or whatever. he didn’t need to come back and they didnt need to make keith a little offbrand clone of him. i ESPECIALLY hate that they aged keith up 2 years for no goddamn reason other than to make him the Adult (tm). keith’s dedication to others was gre4at, but it should have, and im failing for this word here so forgive me, climaxed? cresscendo’d? whatever. /resulted/ in him playing support. not leader. lone wolf keith doesn’t need how to lead his pack, he needed to learn to HELP his pack. to be a TEAM PLAYER. he didn’t want the responsibility of leading bc guess what?? some people hate leading!! there’s nothing wrong with wanting to be support! keith’s entire arc is a huge mess of missed opportunities and a grand illustration that he is lm’s and jds’ favorite, just like fucking mako.

i won’t rant about mako, but just know i fucking hate him and the special treatment he gets, and good LORD does keith take over mako. keith isn’t space zuko he’s space mako and it fucking SHOWS.

okay, i’m losing steam here, but like.... so apple, why tf where u voltron 24/7 if you hated it so much? because homestuck was over and i needed a new hyperfixation. and i really had to force it for vld tbh. and at the end of the day, it wasn’t so much about the show itself as the potential of klance (or sheith, up until s3). between the interviews, the coding, the fucking EVERYTHING--it really felt like it could be canon. i knew in my heart it was queer baiting but i had HOPE dammit. hope that this could be killer representation, hope that these characters would delvelopment into something incredible. again, there was so much POTENTIAL. and all of it was wasted. everything really came to a head during the fucking game show episode. it was like lm and lds giving everyone who likes lance the middle finger, really driving home that “no no, he IS just stupid. he’s the comic releif. there’s nothing deeper about him and no one will stand up for him bc they all think of him as such.” and that just....broke my heart. we were so...SO close to lance actually mattering but nope! bolin’d again! and what was his purpose in s8? why to be an accessory to allura of course!

i’ve seen a lot of people really divorce themselves from canon and live solely for fanon, esp fanon klance but like.... i can’t. i just can’t. it’s so fucking hard to work with these cardboard characters. you can only draw so much depth onto them, you know? until the very last moments they had potential, but then it all got snuffed out. but who cares about canon? why bother with it? because! we don’t have a solid consistent fanon version of them! no one sat down and delivered the ten commandments of “here’s what we agree k and l are actually like” it’s stupid and it sucks because everyone has their own little differences and its so so tiring to basically be interacting with minutely different ocs all the goddamn time. canon matters bc it gives everyone the same base to work with. like a cooking showing with the same basket ingredients, but now it’s like.... ya’ll don’t wanna use the mandatory ingredients (and why would you? those canon ingredients are like, a century egg and spoiled sardines, they’re awful.)

okay, and im at work and just came back to this and dont remember my train of thought so like... what really threw all this into sharp clarity was the recent steven universe episodes. they were so...GOOD. so fucking good. so much plot and foreshadowing coming to a head. it was such a wonderfully satisfying payoff that it made me remember what a GOOD show is like, how vld is so very very /bad/. the difference is fucking striking. where one is an intricately woven tale with excellent character development and clear story AND character arcs, that can progress AT THE SAME TIME, one is a hacked together flaming dumpster firing that constantly falls flat and doesn’t know where its going or why. and it s so BORING! like fight scenes can be amazing! they can be well coreographed and tense! and we as the audience can be anxious about the outcome! and vld just wasn’t that! it was boring repetetive action in the least exciting way. and where su set up a lot of potential, holy shit they DELIVERED on that potential. not just for rep, but for characters! for story! for plain ol simple character interactions! and then, again, two dimensional cardboard cutouts.

and now with this difference in good vs bad show so very clearly highlighted for me, i just.... i can’t, anymore, with vld. it sucks. it sucked and i can’t pretend or force a fixation with it that just isn’t there, and truthfully, probably never was. maybe that’s why i’ve been struggling to finish my fic, struggling ever since i posted the last chapter, ever since s7, which, again, that game show was really the nail in the coffin as far as holding onto any hope that this tire fire would ever pick up. like a physically feel ill trying to finishing this stupid fic bc i don’t care so hard. i don’t care and i just... really want to be over it. im sick of seeing it everywhere, im sick of the drama, of the Discourse. like all fandoms have their issues, but hold fuck does vld fandom have a massive Purity problem. like, god, let people ship whatever. who cares. die mad about it.

like homestuck, idk if i’ll ever fully ween myself off vld but i want to move on. i want to enjoy Other Things without having this lackluster weight on my shoulders. and more than anything, i want to stop feeling like im obligated to like the same shit as i did two years ago, or last year, or hell, last week! feel free to unfollow, but yeah i just.... really needed to let this out in a proper post and not in the misc tags somewhere.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Mutilated Mannequin (Part 5)

Azula still feels out of it, for the better part of her Saturday, she remains in bed, curled up and trying not to think too much. She doesn’t know what she is going to say when she gets back to school with a bandaged nose. She could say that she had fallen or run into something but she isn’t known to be clumsy, quite the opposite. Even if she were, the alteration isn’t subtle. I

She resists the urge to touch her nose, she can’t feel it at all, not even a throb. It is as numb as she was promised.

When she finally pulls herself up, she feels sick. There is some feeling in her nose and it is the sensation of blood. She is glad for the nasal drip pads. She wanders her way to the bathroom, she knows very well that she shouldn’t. That she is only going to bring herself distress.

No less, Azula opens the door, she has to brush her teeth and comb her hair anyhow. She can’t let her hygiene got to shit because of this. Though she doesn’t plan on changing out of her pajamas; she needs at least some degree of comfort.

Her reflection looks tired and weary. Her eyes are as puffy and purple as promised, she can’t wait for that to go away. Beneath the bandages, she can’t see the exact damage that her nose sustains but it does look quite swollen. She swallows and begins brushing her teeth. She doesn’t feel beautiful at all.

She wanders into the kitchen, normally the smell of pancakes would draw her, she no longer has that pleasure. She slides into her chair.

“What happened?” Zuko asks.

Azula only shrugs.

“Your sister is getting surgery.” Ozai cuts in. “The kind that you ought to be getting.”

“I already got rid of the scars.” Zuko argues.

“Not the ones on your ear.”

“I have hair to cover that.” Zuko grumbles, he untucks his hair from behind his ear and moves it to the front. “See.” He crosses his arms. “I said I was done with that cosmetic surgery shit.”

Ozai sets his fork down with a false gentleness. “If you keep talking to me like that you will be in need of it.”

Azula silently cringes on his behalf.

“Your sister knows what needs to be done, she isn’t crying about it.”

Not that he can see, Azula thinks. But she is, she absolutely is. This first operation is already hard to swallow and he has three more lined up for her.  She takes a deep breath and tries to remind herself that she wants this, that it is for the best. That if it goes well, she will finally have a date to homecoming.

.oOo.

“You need to relax, Sokka.” Katara sighs as they near her locker. “The first major debate isn’t until tomorrow.”

“Kat, I don’t have any dialogue prepared! Azula probably has a novella of points ready.”

“She can have as many points as she wants, that doesn’t make her any less cold. People want a friendly class president, someone that they can approach.” Katara pauses. “She might be really organized and extremely smart. But she’s really intimidating and hard to talk to.”

Sokka nods, “then why is she…” he lifts his hand, “and I’m down here.” He holds his other hand beneath the first.

Katara rolls her eyes, “because she scares people. And because her good friends Chan and Yue are up there.” She sighs as she pulls out an armful of textbooks. “You’re going to do fine, Sokka. You may not be the brightest, you’re kind of an annoying idiot, actually.”

“Hey!” He nudges her bicep with his shoulder.

“But you’re really funny and your easy to talk to. People like that.” She glances at the clock. “Oh, crap! I’ll talk to you at home, Sokka!” She wishes that she had more time to let him respond. Such isn’t the case, she sprints down the hall and into her first class of the day. Heaven knows that Zhao is a stickler about people being late for algebra. She certainly doesn’t want to have to solve one of his challenge equations in front of the class.

“Running late?” Yue steps in front of Katara.

“Yeah, so…” she gestures for Yue to move.

“I’ll move if you give me that dorky keychain.”

Katara looks at the adorable rubber duck dangling on her backpack. It is blue in color with a teal beak and a teal hibiscus on its head. “No way!”

“Hmmm...then I guess that you don’t want to get to class that badly.”

“Yue, you know that this keychain is…”

“Important to you? That mommy gave it to you after your first swim meet? You didn’t even win.”

“She never cared about that.” Katara mutters.

“Yeah she seemed nice, it’s too bad that she had cancer.”

Katara balls her fist. She is already going to be late, she might as well add attacking another student to her detention slip. She steps forward.

“Don’t do it Katty.” Toph calls. “I know garbage cans that are worth fighting more than she is.” Before Katara can make the decision to end her flawless record, Toph has her hand and is pulling her down the hallway. “Besides, you only have thirty seconds, maybe forty, if you’re lucky, to keep your perfect attendance certificate.

Katara sighs, but decides that Toph is ultimately right. She bursts through the door just as the bell rings.

Zhao seems to frown and tucks his stack of tardy slips back into his desk draw. “And here I thought that I’d get the honor of giving you your first strike.”

Katara, panting lightly and with a half smirk says, “not this time, Zhao.”

.oOo.

“Oh. My. God.” Yue gasps.

Azula, taking care to avoid hurting herself, buries her face in her hands, partly in embarrassment and partly in aggravation.

“You got a nose job, didn’t you?”

“And what if I did?” Azula grumbles. She feels the table dip as Chan seats himself.

“Holy shit, dude.” He mutters. “Who did you fight?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Azula replies, her voice sounds as awful as face must look. The bruising has faded some, but her eyes still appear purple and yellow in some spots.

“I got you something.” TyLee smiles. She sets an icepack in Azula’s palm.

“Thank you, Ty.” She holds it lightly over her nose.

“Does it hurt?” Mai asks.”

“Not yet.” Azula frowns. She wonders if she should just tell them exactly what had happened. She supposes that it is better for her to do so than for Yue to make a scene of it. She doesn’t have to be wholly truthful. “Look, I was helping Zuzu move some stuff around in his room and he accidently hit me in the face with one of those long wall shelves.”

Yue rolls her eyes. “Did he punch both of your eyes too? I know what plastic surgery looks like.”

“You can’t even spot the difference between your mashed potatoes and your corn.” Azula gestures to her lunch tray.

“But I can spot a nose job when I see one.” Yue crosses her arms.

“Why’d you want surgery?” Mai tilts her head.

“My father wanted me to get it, okay?” She huffs, it isn’t entirely untrue.

“Didn’t he do the same thing to Zuko?” TyLee asks.

Azula nods as Mai mutters, “I had to hold his hand the whole time. But he was extra nice that week.”

“What’s it going to look like?”

“I don’t know, Chan. Can we just eat?” She takes a sporkful of mashed potatoes.

.oOo.

Katara sends Sokka a text, asking him to pick her up from astronomy at around 4:00. She is pretty sure that he doesn’t mind, he’s been itching for any excuse to drive since he got his licence. Even though his pickup truck is a complete beater, he’s been showing it off at every opportunity.

She can’t wait until they actually begin stargazing, she already knows how to use a telescope. Being outside would grant her the freedom to distance herself from Yue. Evidently, Yue is plenty occupied for the time being and from the look of it, Azula isn’t getting any pleasure from her company this evening. Katara observes Azula collecting her belongings and moving to a different table. She can’t tell if Yue and her cluster of ditzy friends have kicked her out or if the girl had simply had enough of that nerve grating voice. Either way around, Azula looks rather isolated.

For a moment, Katara considers sitting by her, she doesn’t really have friends in the club either. But she has little trust for the girl. Her father routinely makes things difficult for Hakoda and Azula herself is ridiculously stand-offish. Besides, she can’t betray Sokka like that. She can’t see herself getting along with someone like Azula anyhow. The last time she’d tried to bond with a member of that family it ended with Zuko trying to steal Aang from her in the most pathetic breakup rebound that Katara had ever seen. No, that family is off limits, she can’t imagine that Azula is a friendly sort of person anyhow.

.oOo.

Azula taps her fingers on the desk, she just wants to look at stars and take her mind off of things. She wishes with all of her heart and soul that Yue hadn’t tagged along. She ruffles through her bag and pulls out her ice pack. She holds it to her nose and ignores Yue’s girlish giggles.

God, she is already giving her a hard time and she still thinks that this whole thing is all Ozai’s idea. She supposes that, at this point, it mostly is. She inhales deeply, she really needs to figure out how to tell her father that she doesn’t want to go through with the next three procedures.

A few droplets of blood spatter on her hand and she remembers that she needs to change the pads. She exucses herself and wanders into the bathroom. She takes another deep breath, feeling wholly uncomfortable doing this by herself. But she’d rather be alone than ask Yue for help. She brings her fingers to her nose, they are shaking. She wonders what would happen if she did this wrong. She doesn’t want to find out.

She bites her lip and returns to the classroom, lingering in the doorway and scanning the classroom for someone approachable. Yue and her cluster of fools are eliminated right away. The only other familiar face is Katara’s, though she doesn’t know the girl that well at all.

Yet, Katara is alone and away from snooping ears. Azula holds her head high and approaches the girl with a stiff, “come with me.” It rests somewhere between a command and a request. Due to her nature, Azula suspects that it sounds more so like a demand.

Katara crinkles her brow. “What for.”

This time she sounds less certain, “I-I need help with something.”

“Ask Yue?”

Azula begins to crinkle her nose and hisses in pain. “No!” She whispers through gritted teeth. “Yue is...not helpful.”

“What do you need help with?”

Azula begins walking away, hoping that curiosity will compel the other girl. She lingers by the mirror, looking down at the pads. There is a thin trail of blood leaking into her mouth. She dabs it away with one of those scratchy school bathroom napkins.

She hears a shuffle behind her. “What do you need help with?”

She motions to the nasal drip pads. “I need to swap them out.”

“How am I supposed to help?”

"I." She pauses. "I don't know, I guess that I just want someone to be here if I do it wrong. I think that you can handle this job."

"Do you want my help or not." Katara replies with a roll of her eyes.

"I wouldn't have dragged you here if I didn't."

"Then, maybe, act like you want me here. Or I'll..."

"No, don't leave." She says a little softer. 

"Let's just do this thing and get back to reviewing the functions of a telescope."

Azula nods and exhales in relief.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Ten Sides (Part 32)

Azula’s stomach writhes; spirits, he is so much like her father. He sounds like him. Good girl...she was always Ozai’s good girl. Her stomach  lurches twice over at the prospect of going back to her old room. Back to those hideous white walls and that barren space. She just hopes that Aang  and Zuko will do their parts as she had told them to.

The drug has yet to wear off, the hallway tilts and waves as she is carried down it. She is hard pressed to cling onto a coherent thought, mostly focused on keeping up her act. It isn’t exactly hard at the moment with her head so cloudy. And, by Agni, it is unsettling...outright anxiety inducing to be back within these walls.

He is still talking, babbling away about things that have no importance to her. Things about how stressful it had been when she’d left them. Bullshit about how they were ‘so’ worried. She will give them something to worry over soon enough.

Her head hurts, she thinks that she should have used a smaller dosage. For a change she resents her small stature, these drugs seem to hit her hard no matter how small the douse. The opening of the door is a grating sound.

“Can you leave the--”

He holds a finger to her lips. The effect of the drug has worn off just enough for a jab of annoyance to break through the haze.  “After the stunt you and the Avatar pulled? Not a chance.”

She figured as much, but she figured asking was worth a shot.

“Now, behave yourself and we can take you home and you can tell your brother how much success we’ve had. You might get a reward if I get my seat on the council.”

Azula’s brows furrow and she wonders exactly what the man’s game is. Is it all for some sick thrill? Is the man going for power? Riches? Is she simply a tool in that? “The council?”

He rolls his eyes. “I am going to be the Fire Lord’s advisor, so to speak.”

So he is looking to take his manipulations and mind control a step further…

He leads her to her bed and sits her down as though he doesn’t think she can do it herself. Sangyul is either tragically egotistic or he is a complete fool. Azula finds that these often go hand in hand. It certainly loosens his tongue well enough. There is a recklessness in thinking that one is unbeatable--a more deeply devastating undoing when that belief is breached. For a moment she once again blurs the line between herself and the man. She rubs her hands over her face. But she knows what it is to fall. She knows what it is to be unraveled into a devastating submission. To have the pieces shatter further as she tries to pick them up.

Sangyul thinks that he is untouchable.  He thinks that his work has been so thorough and devastating that there is no possibility that his victims might recover. And she is banking on that. How savory it will be to see his face when she stands over him, when he recognizes the return of strength and glory. She will leave him with no pieces to pick up at all, only a fine glassy powder that will do nothing but slip through the cracks between his fingers.

Were he a smart man, he would have ceased operation and went into hiding. She thinks that he might have thought himself clever  in returning to his first facility. Perhaps he is under the impression that Aang would assume that he wasn’t fool enough to go back there.

Perhaps he’d never left at all, perhaps hearing not a word from her or of her recovery has granted him the confidence to carry on as though nothing had happened at all. And she will work with that.

But first she has to wait for the drugs to run its course, wait for the room to stop spinning and her body to stop trembling. Spirits, it is a horrid feeling both physically and in knowing that she lacks control even when she has it.

Sangyul is chattering again but his voice fades in and out. She falls against the pillow. What if she had taken too much? What if they had given her the wrong drug? Oh spirits, what if she has just handed herself back to the man nearly as venerable as before.

“And just so we’re clear, the only reason you get to remain unbound is because you don’t have your bending. You aren’t particularly skilled without it. You aren’t a very bright one either.” He taps her head, looks into her foggy eyes.

His lack of self-awareness is a torture to be exposed to in itself.

She arranges her pillows and tries to make herself as comfortable as possible as the drug works its way out of her system. She only worries that she won’t be able to maintain the act once the drug wears off. She isn’t one to slur her speech…

.oOo.

“Are you okay, Aang?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t like this, Zuko.”

“You’ve faced Azula down before. She’ll be fine.”

He’s faced her down time and time again, he has seen her prowess but he has seen her beaten down. He has beaten her down. And he knows how hard she falls when she finally does. “She has nightmares sometimes, Zuko. Sometimes she’ll see or hear something and it’s like…” he trails off what is it like? “It’s like she’s not here anymore. And she’s going to be surrounded by things that remind her of everything.”

“She’s not as fragile as you think.” Zuko promises and Aang hopes that he is right. “She’s the one in control, she’ll be fine as long as she has that.”

He tries not to think about what Sangyul may or may not have done to her already. Plan or none, it was nauseating to watch him drag her back into this place. “But what if he takes it from her.”

Zuko chuckles, “well that’s the thing, Aang, he isn’t going to try to take control from her because he thinks that he already has. She knows that.”

Aang takes a deep breath, Zuko is probably right. Right now he needs to focus on his part. While Sangyul pokes at and taunts Azula--he cringes again--they will be sneaking around to find and steal research notes and burn away the spirit vines so that they can’t be abused so readily.

Mostly they are there for back up, to step in if Azula finds that she has gotten in over her head. Though she has made it so abundantly clear that they shouldn’t have to, that she can handle herself. Raava’s tendrils, she was so adamant that she can do things on her own. It is almost painful to think that she thought she had to prove it to him. He knows that she is capable. She can do this. He relaxes if only a little.

“Are these the vines?” Zuko gestures.

“Those are the dead ones. They aren’t shimmering.”

Zuko walks away from the waste bin. “This place is...haunting.”

“Cold too.” Aang comments. He sees it on Zuko’s face that the man might be truly starting to understand why Azula has been so unapologetically furious about her stay here. “This is his office.” He struggles with the lock before Zuko ultimately opts to bust it. Aang flinches at the resounding clatter.

They slip into the darkness of the room and rummage through scroll after scroll; mostly data logs and records of who works and when. Aang wonders if the man either clings to his research notes at all times or if they are in the room where they work with the vines.

“Wh-what the hell?” Zuko asks suddenly. Aang hears the rustle of pages.

“What?”

He skims the files again. “He used to be a Dai Li agent. He wrote that he was exposed to the benefits of brainwashing. That Long Feng did something like this to him…”

“So what!” Aang cringes at his own, less than stealthy outburst. “Are we supposed to feel bad for him? If anything, he should know just how wrong what he’s doing is…”

“That’s not the disturbing part, Aang?”

“Then what is?”

“Apparently he figured out how to use the vines himself by watching you and listening to you talk about what it’s like to energy bend. He wants to use this kind of mind control to usurp me without taking the throne at all.”

“What does Azula have to do with any of this? Was he trying to send you a message?”

“That’s the disturbing part, Aang. She’s not part of his plan at all. He could have taken anyone after you helped her escape. He just…” he furrows his brows. “He liked being in control of someone powerful. He just liked seeing her uncomfortable and vulnerable. He finds it entertaining.”

Aang’s stomach squirms.

“He doesn’t need her back, he just wants her. According to the journal it sounds like he hadn’t even thought to use the vines to grab for power until after she fled, it’s like a side mission. I don’t know if he’s actually interested in it at all really. Especially now that he has Azula back.”

Spirits, what have they allowed her to walk back into. Whether she has control or not, he doesn’t think that she has ever tried to unravel a plan with no rationale . Tired to take down a man with no mission. A man whose sole mission is to antagonize and break her just for the sake of watching her weaken. “Zuko, we have to get her out of here.”