#ozai is responsible for one of his kids having half their face burned and permanently scarred

[fluffykitteninabox]

The fact that these are practically the exact same character, but one is rightfully universally hated for being an abusive megalomaniac while the other is being upheld by the fandom as some sort of.... ugh.. "hero" 🤮🤮

[thiscryptidischronicallyyours]

Dropping a teaser for A Turtleduck Walks Into a Bar

Here's a little snippet of my bonus WIP at the moment. A hostage situation turned into a quasi-adoption with June and Zuko.

A Turtleduck Walks Into a Bar

Zuko threw open the peeling door to the tavern. He gave a one-eyed leer to the bar’s single occupant, a patch fixed over his damaged eye. The rough material dug into the wine-colored skin that surrounded it, leaving a permanent scowl etched on the prince’s face.

He stalked over to the bar, the stiff movements not quite able to mask the slight list in his steps. The injuries too fresh to have acclimated; A fact that only made Zuko scowl harder. He stopped just before the bar’s edge and stood at attention. His hands fixed behind his back in clenched fists.

The bar attendant’s eyes flicked up from the tankard she dried. Her blank expression, framed in pitch-black hair, remained unchanged by the presence of the pale boy on the other side of her counter. With a curled corner of her scarlet lip, she returned her attention to the tankard.

“Lost runt?” She asked, the sneer coloring her tone, “Or did you come looking for some juice and a snack?”

She watched the reflection of the kid stiffen, becoming more unsteady in his irritation. His fists smacked the counter, wood groaning beneath the sudden pressure of the thuds against the grains.

“I’m not lost and I’m not looking for juice,” Zuko snapped, “I’m looking for someone.”

Interrupting his next thought, June set the tankard on the bar. She turned her attention back to the half-bald boy with the awful ponytail sticking from the top of his head.

“Your barber? I’d be looking for him too if someone did that to my hair.” She smirked as he sputtered, “Or did daddy tell you he was going for a pint and never came back?”

The boy’s eye narrowed, the stark scarring on the side of his face suddenly less prominent as the hot flush of rage crept through his features.

“How dare you speak to me that way, peasant,” he spoke through clenched teeth, “Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?”

The young woman pressed one of her elbows into the counter, leaning toward him. She took in his clothes for the first time, expertly tailored and clearly well-maintained. Not a stain or tear marred the scarlet material of his uniform. No thanks to him, June was sure. But a high and mighty brat in an outfit like that meant money. Eyes gleaming, she smirked and leaned harder on her propped elbow.

“By all means, enlighten me.”

The boy’s exposed eye narrowed at her sudden shift. But set in his task, he pressed on. He crossed his arms, almost unsettling his delicate balance on the tiled floor with the sudden shift.

“I am Prince Zuko, son of Firelord Ozai. I demand any information about the Avatar is turned over immediately.”

June cackled a full-throated laugh. It seemed to make the empty tankards in the sleepy little tavern ring. She watched the boy fume, lost for words in his simmering rage. Wiping a nonexistent tear from her eye, she fixed her gaze back on the royal brat.

“Is that so?” She drummed her dark, glossy nails on the grooved countertop in dramatized consideration, “If you haven’t noticed this is the Earth Kingdom. So, unfortunately for you, I don’t answer to the Firelord.” She gave the unsteady boy another once over, “Or his spoiled brat of a son.”

Not quite meeting her gaze, the boy changed his tactic.

“If you don’t want this whole place burned to the ground, you’ll tell me where the Avatar is.”

Between his shifting eye, sickly pallor, and the swaying of his stance June doubted the kid could produce so much as a single spark. She raised her chin, head cocking to the side.

“Go ahead. Burn this dump to the ground. You’d be doing me a favor. I could quit my day job.”

Zuko swallowed. The stiff collar of his shirt felt tight around his neck. His visible eye wide in the face of a response he hadn’t calculated for. But he refused to be cowed. His hands formed into tight fists, trying to conceal the trembling of his fingers. Zuko squared his shoulders, feet grounded in a stance beneath him. He fought to keep stable as he wound back, channeling all his energy into his fist.

Not so much as a wisp of smoke escaped his fingertips.

[anxtheroliveinthehouse]

Bathed in Flames.

Hello, I wrote a little something. I also posted it on AO3 if you’d rather see it there.

rating: G || no warnings || fandom: atla/atlab || character(s): Zuko, Mai || 

additional tags: other main characters mentioned, vignette, angst, Zuko-centric, Zuko’s scar, angst and feels, teen angst, guilt, dysfunctional family, family issues, personal growth, bending, Iroh is a good uncle, meditation, dreaming

summary:  Three vignettes written about three of my favorite parts Zuko's character arc: where he came from, what he did, and who he became.

There were times when he didn’t dream. His sleep was left unmarred by troubling visions of destiny or night terrors of dishonor. However, this wasn’t a night of blissful awareness, as most nights were. He was only half asleep, one part of his brain could still hear the crackling of the fire in the center of his chambers as well as the sound of the water sloshing against the sides of the ship. The air was tainted with the smell of coal burning deep within the belly of the ship. The blazing hot life inside the engine called out to him, the flames he could clearly feel licking up his legs and torso, arms and back, until it entirely engulfed him.

It could have been terrifying for someone else to experience. However, it was only natural for him. Firebenders could sense their element when it was in close vicinity, and of course the stronger the source, the more it made itself known to the benders that controlled it.

This was perhaps the only time of the day in which his bending abilities and his sense of fire did not soothe or calm him, ground him or give him balance. When he slipped into his own dreamworld where he couldn’t hold back his ridgid control on his memories, he fell into the deepest pits of despair. The sound of the crackling fire and the sloshing of the water on ship and the sense of the great roaring fire within said ship only brought him back to the day of his Agni Kai.

The torches that filled the viewing benches around the arena crackled the same as the one in his room. The water in the moat around the arena sloshed against the stone structures that confined it as did the sea against his confining ship. The engine rumbled . . .

Zuko distantly felt the rumbling through his bed from the floor. It wasn’t enough to rouse him from his half-aware state because of how long he had been on this Godforsaken ship. Regardless, the rumbling only further enhanced his painful memory. The rumbling was the way the crowd stomped and cheered for the fight between father and son. It was the sound of the searing flames his father unleashed upon him even when he begged for mercy.

The pain was all he could remember after looking up to see the fire reaching for him. The agony remained for days and days afterwards. It smarted him for weeks to come, the skin always sore and hurting. It would never feel normal, always tight and dry like leather. He was lucky to make it out with his eye and eyesight.

Barely aware he was doing it, Zuko reached for his scar, covering it from any further harm. It was a pathetic attempt. His father could sear through his hand and probably his skull as well. The threat always lingered with him. His father was clear that if he were to return to him, Zuko would be killed.

Banging on his chamber door startled him out of his sleepy brooding and into his fully awake brooding.

“What is it?” He snarled.

“Prince Zuko, we have reached the Southern Water Tribe.”

Cruel excitement swirled in his gut. “Gather your men. We disembark as soon as the ship’s nose crosses into their village.”

*

Zuko dreamed pleasant visions for once when he was back inside the Fire Nation’s capital, he was home . It felt right to be there. There was always the bonus of having Mai in his arms. Her hair brushed against his chin and her breathing against his throat. Something about those feelings lulled him into a sense of security.

The dreams, while happy and contented, were sure to bring anguish to Zuko when he woke. He dreamt of the Avatar, alive and well. He dreamt being on the shores of the Fire Nation watching the kid sail through the wind off the ocean on that contraption of his. He kept happily gliding without a care in the world, whooping and laughing all the while. It was almost like the scene took place a hundred years prior. When there was no war and the Avatar had visited the Fire Nation as a normal boy. He had friends here and a good relationship with the people.

Of course, Aang was enjoying himself, as were the other three. Toph had busied herself trying her hand at sand bending a sandcastle, though Zuko could tell she wasn’t a huge fan of it. Katara and Sokka were out in the water with Sokka trying to surf but ultimately failing, eventually Katara bended a wave that was easy enough for her brother to ride on. This only boosted his ego.

Zuko smiled, genuinely smiled, at the scene. Maybe this was paradise? Some idyllic world where the crown Prince of the Fire Nation was friends with the Avatar.

As soon as the vision began, it was swiftly taken away. Zuko stirred, feeling the coattails of happiness in its wake. He opened his eyes to the choice he had made. He chose not to fight with the avatar, but against him. His sister had shot down the boy with lightning and killed him, yet gave Zuko the credit. It wasn’t long afterwards that the guilt set in. A myriad of emotions crashed over him. Anguish was the best descriptor. The Avatar’s words echoed to him as he laid there watching his girlfriend as she slept.

If we knew each other back then, do you think we could have been friends, too?

*

It was the day of Zuko’s coronation. He was dressed in robes that reminded him of his father. They were heavy on his shoulders. Or perhaps it was the weight of the responsibility that he now carried. Even though he had not been officially crowned as the new fire lord, he had inherited the position after his father had been forced out. As Ozai’s oldest child, Zuko was set to be crowned and carried the burden of the entire fire nation.

Not even a week ago he was still on the run with the avatar, fighting and sneaking around. He had been starving, imprisoned, shunned, and beaten the first time he had been away from home, right after the Agni Kai. And since then, Zuko has been at his lowest in the past year. He hadn’t even thought he could go lower. Then to be humbled when he joined the avatar’s gang and redeemed himself.

What a journey he had been on.

When Zuko found his own eyes in the mirror of his dressing room, he couldn’t believe the contrast in what he found. He recognized himself, but he had changed so much that he was unsure. He had aged and lost weight, leaving his cheeks hollow and his face gaunt. He was wearing the fire lord’s robes, a sight he never thought to be possible. His hair had grown long enough to be put into a top knot which a hair piece would be placed signifying his new status. It was almost too much to comprehend.

The scar was the only thing that grounded him. It made it unquestionable who Zuko was seeing in the mirror. The person he saw was a product of their journey. Whether the wounds were physical as the scar on his face or invisible as were the ones on his heart, they were testament. They would be his legacy.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He faintly felt the candles and low embers of the incense burning in the room. When he took a breath, the few sources of fire flared and grew brighter. Then, Zuko meditated. Everything he was worried about was being pushed aside in his mind. He thought of Iroh and his tea to help.

The first thing Zuko came across in his thoughts was his sister. Azula was still wailing and fighting for escape. This particular thought was unexpectedly painful to deal with. There was so much driving force between them from their father that once he had been removed, it left this awkward, empty space. He always loved his sister, but it wasn’t like how Sokka loved Katara. It was a cold and distant concern. At times, Zuko questioned if he did actually care. He was afraid that maybe too much time and pressure had permanently estranged them. It felt like they could never be able to pick up the pieces or try to have a semblance of normalcy, but he knew he had to try and bridge the gap. Though, in the state Azula was in, that would be completely impossible. Maybe the healers Zuko sent to her would be able to help her.

He pushed the thought away and made it smoke in his mind. It drifted away.

Aang, Katara, Sokka, and Toph were all going on more adventures. Really they were supposed to be helping people in their transition out of the fire nation’s hold. However, Zuko was sure they were prone to stir up trouble. Deep down he worried for their safety, especially now in the midst of great change. There were already reports of rebellions both in and out of the fire nation. Secret groups were being formed and threats on his life were being sent out. He could only imagine what hung over Aang’s head.

The thought became mist, and drifted before settling on another worry.

His mother was still alive. It was a thought that had been pushing for attention in his mind even when he needed to stay focused. He missed her so much at times he felt like he would implode. The first thing he did when he had the power to was order an investigation into the whereabouts of Ursa. Even so, he was planning a visit to see his father. There was a chance the previous fire lord would at least give him something, but Zuko wasn’t optimistic.

The thought turned to rain. Curiously when he opened his eyes to find the rain he began to feel, he found fat tears rolling down his face.

He wiped them away. They had caught him off guard. No more would his emotions catch him unaware. He needed to be comfortable in his ability to feel them, name them, and, to an extent, control them. His empathy was the tool he needed in becoming a great fire lord. One that Ozai refused to acknowledge during his time in power. Hopefully, Zuko would be able to hold onto it.

Hopefully, Zuko would never become his father.