#azula's scenes in the finale are just... *chefs kiss* they hurt me.

[dalygrace]

@stlapin said: 🔆 + lear crew + atla (maybe with a sibling agni kai :D)! featuring @catherinedaly and @evcravens

The day of Sozin's comet dawns clear and crisp, a clean slate to usher in a new era of Fire Nation dominance. She follows the armies to the ports, kneels before her father as he prepares to battle. She can feel the energy of victory all around, crackling from the soldiers, and her heart feels as if it has lodged itself in her throat. She burns, all fierce pride, as her father names her successor in the early morning light. Fire Lord. The title is sweet on her tongue, but there is too the taste of ash - her rise tempered by her father's further ascension. Some small part of her stings with this once and final insult, but she shoves it down, revels in the glory of her day, the day of her coronation.

By noon she has dismissed all her personal servants, banished both the Dai Lee and her lifelong advisors, and thoroughly frustrated herself with the ritual hairstyles she needs for the ceremony. In other words, she was doing fabulously. The black rot of her heart was on full display, and she found she quite enjoyed the rush of giving orders as much as she thought she would. She grins at herself in her bedroom mirror, smoothing down the edges of her newly shorn bangs. "What a shame," a voice says from behind her, and Grace's blood runs cold.

Her mother stands just behind her, a sad frown on her face as she takes in Grace's crisp uniform and unruly hair. "You always had such beautiful hair." Grace does not dignify this with a response, only pulls her hair roughly back into a bun, murderous feeling in her chest growing. "How could I miss my own daughter's coronation?" Her mother continues, as if Grace had played into her little dialogue, as if she'd entertained the idea that she was worth her time. "Don't patronize me," she snaps back, eyes blazing. "I know you'd rather it be Catherine, some little soft thing for you to puppet. I am not yours to control."

"You have always been about control," her mother replies, neatly dodging the splinters of Grace's anger that underly her words. "You cling to it, draw it to you with other people's fear. Why?"

Grace's anger boils under her skin. "Being feared is easy," she replies cooly. "I am seen as I should be seen - superior." She clutches her hairbrush like a vice, focusing on the feeling of the wood in her grasp as her mother's eyes turn sad. "Fear may be easy for others, but it is not for you. You use it to push people out, even your friends and sisters." Her mother tilts her head, gaze appraising, driving deep holes into Grace's already crumbling facade. "You are only hurting yourself. Why not try trust?"

"Trust is for fools," Grace retorts. "Fools like Catia and the Avatar." Her lip curls in disgust as her mother shakes her head sadly, and she turns sharply away. "Fear is the only way to bring power," she continues on, bullheaded to the last. "Even you fear me."

"No," the reflection says simply. "I love you, Grace. I do."

Something in her crumples. Her rage expands to fill the space, bright and hot, and Grace hurls the hairbrush at her mother's face. She is out the door before the last shards of mirror hit the ground.

She seethes all the way to the empty palace courtyard, until she kneels before the fire sages and prepares to receive her crown and title. They begin to speak and a sense of calm washes over Grace. Finally, she will be what she has been born for - Fire Lord, ruler, all-powerful. She is moments away from stepping into her birthright.

Which is, of course, why fate sees fit to send her sister back home.

Daly! Catherine shouts, their shared name sharp and echoing around the grand palace architecture. Grace's rage overpowers her and she stands, sneering down at her sister as she slides off the giant flying thing that brought her here, the waterbending boy just behind. "Kitty Cat," she spits, "so good of you to join us."

"You won't be Fire Lord today," Catia continues, and Grace laughs, a cruel sound. "Oh?" She questions, all mock solemnity. "Then who is? Certainly not you," she jeers, and revels in the angry twist of Catherine's mouth, the way Everett straightens up beside her. "If you're so keen for the title, sister," she continues, voice sharp, the plan of attack suddenly clear in her mind. "Then we fight for it. Agni kai."

"You're on," Catherine agrees, ever the go-getter, ever the optimist. Beside her, Everett looks concerned - Good, Grace thinks. He should be. They both should be.

When they fight, it is a battle of light and heat, blue flame tangling with orange. The stands are barren, devoid of the usual jeering and energetic crowd that would come to witness such an event. Their flames lick the edges of the seats, catch the rooftops ablaze. It does not matter to Grace - all she cares about is her sister before her, the scar on her face a reminder of how far she'd fallen, how worthless she'd turned out to be. Grace deflects a blast of orange flame and bares her teeth at Catherine, a sickly sharp grin. This was no agni kai for precious little Kitty Cat's honor, a lesson for her to learn - no. Only one of them was leaving here alive, and Grace knows it will be her.

Catherine's next blow takes her by surprise, a whip of flame that knocks her off her feet. She's gotten stronger since she's been away, become a force with fire that almost matches Grace. "No lightning today?" Her sister taunts as Grace drags herself up from the ground, and something cracks within her. The static charge builds as she rises, sparks playing along the length of her arms. This is where Grace stands supreme, leagues above her sister in ways she could not even imagine. The force of the lightning rips through her, sending her already manic pulse skyrocketing, as she takes in Catia's form, her stance as she readies herself against Grace's renewed onslaught. "Afraid I'll redirect it?" Catherine taunts again, unwavering, and Grace can see she no longer fears her, no longer sees the dominion she holds over her. She thinks she knows what Grace will do, knows her tricks and her vices after a lifetime of battling them - but she has underestimated her once again, here, when it counts the most.

The world stills as Grace breathes. Her vision, dominated by her sister, widens just a fraction, taking in Everett's nervous form behind Catia. He stands like a sentinel, the only witness to this battle of titans, the last puzzle piece in this ramshackle life her sister has cobbled together from the scraps given to her by their father. She sees the fear on his face and knows, in an instant, that it is not of her but rather for Catia's safety. Another smile stretches over her face, angry and cruel.

Grace has seen how Everett cares for people - for the Avatar, for the rest of his traveling band of misfits - but especially for her sister. It strikes something within her, his blind faith that Catia has been redeemed, wiped clean of her sins against him. He is weak for believing it, for believing in goodness even when there is none, just as her sister is. They have not known the path of righteousness that she treads, the unwavering faith in her actions that she holds. They act as though it is Grace who has transgressed, but have they not both acted against their nature, blinded by their so-called morality? It is Grace who has never wavered from her path, who has come, at last, to the apex of her destiny.

Grace channels all the rage she has left and sends it hurtling forward, pure deadly energy, aimed right at Everett's heart.

She sees the instant he realizes, sees the fear in his eyes change, and satisfaction pools low in her gut. They may have underestimated her, but she has read them perfectly - Catia leaps, taking the bolt straight to her chest, and the satisfaction grows, washing over Grace in a sickly wave. "Oh Catia," she sighs, voice laden with sarcasm, "You always were so predictable." She sends a bolt of lightning in Everett's direction as he tries to rush to Catherine's side, blocking his approach. The energy crackles around her as she looks down at her sister, manic smile carved across her face, all teeth and sharp edges.

"Kitty Cat, you don't look so good," she mocks, taking in the crumpled heap of Catherine's body, the small shocks that send her muscles twitching against her will. Before her, Everett looks murderous, and it is all too easy to dodge the wall of water he sends her way. She comes down behind him, lashing out with flames that chase him as he skates away from her. He does not have far to run, boxed in by the faintly burning stadium, pillars to hide behind no deterrent to Grace's determined flames. She stalks him like a cat toying with a mouse, dizzy with power, with the knowledge that she has just killed her sister, with victory sharp like iron on her tongue.

It is easy to corner him, to drive him back against the far edge of the field. "Everett," she coos, sending another blast of fire his way. "Tired already?" The torches flickering around cast ghastly shadows across her face, highlight the wild tangle of her hair as it cascades down her back. It had slipped from its loose bun at some point during the fight and Grace pushes it roughly over her shoulder as she strides forward. Everett says nothing, mouth set in a hard line, and Grace smiles further, feels the muscles in her cheeks pull tight as it splits her face. He whips several strands of water at her, a last ditch effort as he's cornered that Grace ducks into an easy roll to avoid. She comes up, power surging, drawing the crackling energy once more from her heart. She lunges, arm outstretched, fingers pointed at his head - and freezes.

The weight and chill of the ice hit her at once and she panics, unable to move. The lightning fizzles on her fingertips, a shockwave of energy radiating back down her arm to her core. The suddenness of it makes her gasp, an aborted motion as it is then that she realizes she cannot breathe. Everett's slow exhale before her, the way he moves fluidly through the ice turned liquid, only heightens the rapid thumping of her heart, the desperate realization that he has manufactured a space where she is utterly and completely powerless.

No, she tries to scream, as Everett takes hold of her arms, as she feels chains bite into her wrists. She tries to struggle, to pull away, but the ice has her pinned. Panic rises in her like bile as her lungs scream for air, burning as Everett forces her to her knees and pulls the chains tight. She feels as though she is about to burst, flames tearing through her as the ice falls away and Everett lands hard on his knees beside her, breath coming heavy. She breathes flame in a ragged arc, pulling hard against her restraints, undignified tears leaking from her eyes. She pulls hard as Everett rushes to Catia's side, feels her shoulder pop from its socket. The plain blinds her more than her tears and she screams - in pain, in grief, in anger at the mercy she has been shown that she does not deserve.

She screams until her throat is raw, burning from her bright blue flame. She screams until they are forced to subdue her like a rabid animal, muzzled and bound. She screams even then, as her vision blacks out - screams for all that she should have been and never will be. She screams for herself, lost now, irrevocably.

[avatars-and-fire-lords]

Anyway I actually don’t like how ATLA used Zuko’s scar as a symbol for the bad things inside him and used his unscarred side as a symbol for the good things inside him. I’ve seen a lot of posts praising moments where that happens and I am Over It. Equating physical differences with evil is gross and not helpful. (((I myself have a mild facial difference, but it’s all over my face; I don’t have a “good side” for the camera to pan to when I’m having a good moment. So i guess I’m full on evil 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️ ))) This is the kind of thing that fuels descrimination against people who don’t look like everyone else.

The scar is, if anything, a symbol of what he has overcome and a symbol of him becoming okay with himself and accepting himself. It’s not cool to equate that with things like Sozin, his imperialist ancestor. Ugh.

Like, getting the scar and being banished is kind of what allows Zuko to reclaim himself and be redeemed. His unscarred side looks more like Sozin, more like perfect-skin Azula, more like Ozai. I can’t help but think of how brave it would have been for the show to equate his unscarred side with the bad in him instead, and his scarred side with the good; it not only makes more narrative sense, it’s also an awesome statement.

Just think how cool it would have been for people like me—not to mention how refreshing and progressive it would have been narratively—if Zuko was pictured on his scarred side rather than his completely unscarred side when he has that final shot where he and Mai kiss. His scar, now part of him, just as good as the rest of him. Showing his unscarred side and hiding the scar in that scene isn’t *chef’s kiss* good storytelling as I’ve heard it called. It’s cowardly. His scar is part of him. He is redeemed and gets to be happy. So the scar does too.

And I get the argument that the scar symbolizes trauma, and so it might be making the point that trauma tends to self-perpetuate, that hurt people hurt people. But Zuko *doesnt* perpetuate the cycle of abuse. That argument would make more sense if he did. And Sozin wasn’t ever even shown to be a victim of abuse himself, so there’s no equivalency there.

Anyway.