#avatar the promise

[lady-of-the-spirit]

Every day I think about how and why The Promise writers could have the gang agree so easily to Zuko asking Aang to kill him

[dashiellqvverty]

i definitely liked the atla comics more when i first read them, mostly bc i was just v excited to read more avatar stuff and didnt think too hard about them, but even at the time not knowing nearly as much about colonialism as i do now i read The Promise and was like... this is bad. this is avatar trying to weigh in on an issue that it is neither equipped nor required to weigh in on.

[sol-em-gemeos]

[star-reads-ya]

Here's some books like Avatar the Last Airbender.

[finisnihil]

“They finally made this theme more blatant-" Why does it need to be blatant. What's wrong with subtlety? Concepts can be underused but subtlety is not neglect.

Blaring all your concepts and themes is not good writing. It's so disruptive to a story's flow when the characters look off the screen to be like "See? This is the concept. The idea. The theme."

If you can feel the hand of the author becoming too heavy that's bad.

For example: I see people saying Azula's abuse in ATLA is more blatant in the live action and it's good because "it's being discussed more". It already was discussed at length. The show made it clear she was a victim at every turn, every behavior, every reaction, it came from a place of trauma. It was made clear that she was scared of ending up like Zuko because Zuko was an example of what would happen to her if she failed. When she says she's better than Zuko it wasn't just because she was raised to think hersef superior to him but because Zuko failed and failures get mutilated and exiled, failures are abandoned. In that final Agni Kai the music is morose and somber because this isnt some epic battle its a fucking tragedy, the burning out of "Ozai's brightest light" and Azula finally succumbing to her terror and trauma she was repressing now that her worst fears are realized. How can you see a fourteen year old girl chained to a sewer grate wailing and writhing and breathing fire desperately as unsympathetic? Even Katara and Zuko are horrified as to what has become of her.

The writers weren't looking us in the eye and saying "See? She's a victim too" when they wrote this, they weaved it in. They weaved it into her obsesison with symmetry, her extreme perfectionism, the way she talks about Ozai, the ways she calls herself a monster, her isolation from those with healthy home lives, all the ways she held herself together and ultimately all the cracks and seams that she shattered down when she fell apart. It did not need to be blatant to be clear.

[moncuries]

once in a blue moon

[reallyhardydraws]

babies being cuties 💛💙 (commissions open!)

[demaparbat-hp]

Almost

[mugentakeda]

his royal tea-loving kookiness

[animebarbie89]

WIP of my babies 💛💙 enjoy!

[sun-snatcher]

hello! i love ur work and i was wondering if u could do some live action zuko angst (that makes ur heart sink) and then it progresses to fluff (that makes ur heart swell) please? HAHA idk if it makes sense but i rlly love ur work!! hope ure doing well n no pressure!!!

🐉・ HEARTBURN

summ.  Fresh from his banishment, Zuko faces the aftermath of his punishment in both his dreams and his waking hours. pairing. Zuko x f!reader (established relationship) w.count.  1k.  a/n.  A bit abstract on this one, but just typical dream logic. A glimpse at Zuko’s descent into madness, almost? Sorry anon if this is mostly angst than fluff! 🧎🏻‍♀️

Zuko’s dreams manifest at the scent of burnt flesh and the sound of his own screaming.

He feels the molten sting of a melting crown upon his skin and the fantastical beast that is his father; something monstrous— something scaled, fanged, clawed, and too large an appetite, with a touch and breath of fire that lights the skies in a blaze.

( He wakes up with his voice hoarse from screaming. The 41st Division will eventually learn early on not to mention it. They just leave a hot pot of tea ready for him come the mornings, by General Iroh's orders. )

Sometimes, it transgresses. Sometimes, it’s his mother who burns while he watches from the sidelines of the Agni Kai; Or Azula. Their shrieks mix with his when he wakes. 

Sometimes, it’s Iroh who scalds him. Great Dragon of the West, jasmine-white with razor teeth and a flame that burns as hot as the sun; serpent eyes a shining gold and a sharper tongue that spoke of his disappointment for his nephew. 

Sometimes, it begins with you.

Please, you beg, at the foot of a winged beast. It speaks in the voice of his father; damning, all-encompassing. It warns the Prince the price of compassion, of mercies, and of weaknesses. Eliminate her, or I will. 

Rarely does Zuko ever move. He’d plead in your name, to spare your life. It never happens; he just wakes to the smell of smoke and the sound of your screaming.

( There are dreams he doesn’t speak at all to defend you. The shame devours him whole. )

“I’ve killed you over a hundred times, in my sleep.”

In the aftermath of another nightmare, you turn to face Zuko. You’re not quite sure what to say. 

“Other nights, it’s the 41st, or Uncle,” he says, quietly. “Even mom, or Azula.”

You turn back to the small medical chest on the desk. The infirmary is quieter at times like these; the soldiers of the 41st know not to visit the usual haunts of their Prince. Tonight, Zuko will have to replace the bandages of his scar, and there are only two people on this ship he’d ever trust in his life to lay a hand on it.

You’re shifting towards where he’s sitting on one of the cots. “May I?”

( You ask. You always ask. Even when you’ve done this nearly fifty times, you ask. Zuko is glad; there’s a comfort in agency, especially when he’s gotten so used to losing it every time he sleeps.  )

He nods, and you make quick work to unravel the bandages. When the layers come away, you observe the way his left eye shuts and opens as he blinks, remaining half-closed into a permanent expression of pain. He looks away, downcast. 

The skin around is stretched taut, some areas rawer than others, marred with growing scar tissue that knots in twisting valleys. ( Zuko has only seen the scar once. He’s covered the mirrors in his room ever since; avoids glancing at his own passing reflections. )

The wound is still fresh; the memories fresher.

You don’t flinch at the sight or recoil like the other soldiers or dignitaries. 

He finds… solace in that.

( Something roils in his mind. It uncurls and hisses and growls. )

“Tilt your head for me,” you say, ready to replace the cotton on his eye with a new one. 

He stops your wrist just as you do. 

Your heart jumps at the contact. His hands are warm.

“Why?” he blurts.

You blink in confusion.

“Why’d you come with me?”

The reply is instant, and unintentionally drowned in affection. “Where else would I have belonged?”

Zuko almost answers instinctively: With me. By my side. He shakes his head.

“You should have never come,” he says, instead. He’d grown fond of you over the years. Too fond; over some Firenation colonel’s daughter, a force to be reckoned with and yet a childhood friend who he’d played and studied and fought with countless times. Fond enough that he’d been foolish to let you step foot into the ship of the 41st Division the day he’d been banished; fond enough to be foolish enough to allow you to put yourself in harm’s way. “You could’ve had a better future back home.”

“But a miserable one,” you counter. 

His nostrils flare as he sighs. You watch the way his brows weave to a frown, the way they always did whenever he’s tamping down his frustration. "Nothing is more miserable than being banished from home. Yet here you are walking away from it.”

“You and I both know the palace was never a home for me,” you say. “I’ve been by your side my entire life. I’m not about to break that streak over some punishment. You matter to me.”

Zuko’s heart stifles. 

( Compassion, he hears the wings of the blood-red dragon in his dreams unfurl. Compassion is a sign of weakness. )

“It was a stupid move,” he blurts, letting go of you. He had wanted it to be emotionless, but it comes out as distinctively bitter: “Sooner or later you’ll come to regret your decision. Then, you’ll see I was right all along.”

“Maybe,” you say, just to appease him. “But I doubt it.”

( Lies, jeers the serpent. You have only yourself to rely on in this world, Zuko. )

For the sake of conversation, you don’t provoke him further. You continue, instead, with replacing the dressings around his eye. He’s angry enough as is with the world— with you. For being stubborn. And strong. And steadfast. And loyal. And—

Zuko glances at your face in focus, your hands so careful in binding the gauze it’s nearly featherlight. “Tell me if it hurts,” you say, with gentle authority. 

The ire leaves his body. Zuko’s gaze softens at a realisation:

“Not once have you ever hurt me. Not even in my dreams.”

It’s a statement so frighteningly vulnerable that it has you stilling. Your breath staggers. Something swells in your chest. You let your hand rest on his cheek, thumb below his scar. The touch is reassuring. Zuko wants to lean into it.

“I don’t think I ever could,” you answer, honestly. 

( She can, sings the beast. She will. And once she does, know that it will burn tenfold than what I've done. )

Zuko's hand settles on top of yours. 

“You can hurt me,” he concedes, solemn, voice barely above a whisper. “You can if you must. I command it.”

( The dragon in his head hisses. For now, it retreats. )

[aangarchy]

MOTHER HAS ARRIVED

[whatsavatar]

Me waiting patiently for Tom and Bill Kaulitz fics to start rolling in

[bluespiritshonour]

here's 18-19 year old aang sketches. been hearing aang is ugly discourse—no he ain't. he was just 12.

[umossu]

Do you believe in life after love? I can feel something inside me say I really don't think you're strong enough, no

From Believe by Cher

[ghiertor-the-gigapeen]

Zuko loves his personal space

Sokka also loves Zuko's personal space

Original pic