#the zukka is coming along!

[ash-and-starlight]

Do you have any really specific and/or personal Zukka headcanons that you’d be okay with sharing? I eat up every hc you put into your drawings like they’re candy, I was wondering if you had any others :D :D

OH boii i sure have,,, nothing coherent is coming to mind atm so ill just expose my Extensive backstories of zukka bethrotal armbands that idk if i will find a way to sneak into art.

sokka’s armband for zuko is forged back at Piandao’s mansion, and it's one of the most fine stunning pieces of jewelry ever crafted. it’s not the usual southern ivory but metal, more similar to the armbands worn as an accessory in the fire nation. it’s made of intertwining bands of gold and black meteor metal, with patterns of waves and dragon scales that seem to ripple and move when the light catches on them just right. and the pendant is a traditional blue stone from the swt.

There are no particular engagement gifts traditions in the fn, so zuko goes on a deep dive into southern water tribe ones, asking sokka’s family and friends about jewelry making and learning to engrave over the course of several trips to the swt. He makes sokka’s armband with ivory from his own first (successful) solo hunt. i’m not sure abt the material of the pendant lmao maybe gold? but amber would also be cool methinks

as for the pendant engraving they display a unique single braincell moment (untrue i just want them to match). love the fact that both of them are sea savvy navigators, love to think that in their pining era they spent a lot of time watching the stars and showing each other the different constellations and navigation pointers of their nations, so in both of their armbands’ stones are depicted the constellation used to guide sailors back home, sokka engraving the swt’s one on zuko’s armband and vice versa.

if they were sun’s out guns out kinda guys before this only gets worse during the first weeks of their engagement. shirts are banned. everyone look at the bethrotal armbands NOW.

[bohemian-rhapsody-in-blue]

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#(or happily watch avatar the last airbender even though it’s a quote-unquote ‘’’kids’ show’’’ and i’m a quote-unquote ‘’’adult’’’) 

(Note: this is the post that tag is from—for some reason the tag link is broken)

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Beboptober Day 11: Procrastination

Thanks to @thestarlightsymphony for the prompt list! I’ll be honest, I’m not sure this idea makes sense to anyone else but me, but it was fun to write :)

Hey, Maya, says the tiny Jet Black who lives in my head. Shouldn’t you be writing your Beboptober fic for today?

I’ll do it later, I think back. I have work to do. History readings, and studying for my Astronomy midterm, and…

Okay, okay. Jet holds up his (imaginary) hands, smiles and nods approvingly as he exits. Probably a good idea, too, to get your homework done first.

(He doesn’t know I’m going to procrastinate on that too.)

~~~~~

Hey, says the tiny Faye Valentine who lives in my head. Don’t you have Beboptober to do tonight?

Yeah, I say. I stuff another cookie in my mouth, from earlier when I decided I couldn’t possibly write without the proper snacks. But I’ll do it later.

How much later d’you have? asks Faye, giving an idle glance at the clock between drags of her cigarette.

I can submit it a little after midnight and it will still be fine, I say. It’ll still be the same day in the time zones behind mine.

Stands to reason, says Faye, shrugging; I can’t tell if she’s convinced or not. I can’t tell if I’m convinced by myself or not, to be honest.

Then, over my protests, she reaches for one of my cookies. Hey, can I have one of those?

(As if she could have them anyway.)

~~~~~

Beboptober! Beboptober! chants the tiny Ed who lives in my head, whirling and spinning around in my mind’s eye. She likes Beboptober the best of all the characters in my head—she enjoys doing silly little things for me to write down, and she’s generally not the one being put through trauma or getting her neuroses dissected for all of Tumblr to see. The tiny Ein who lives in my head stands next to her and barks.

Yep, I tell her. Beboptober is, in fact, a thing I have to do. And that I will do. I glance at the clock in the upper-right of my computer screen and shake my head. Eventually.

The deadline looms ever-closer! says Ed, wiggling her fingers and injecting her voice with her spookiest vibrato. You must write noooooow!

I’ve got time, I say.

Whatcha doin’ instead? she says, standing on tiptoe and leaning over my shoulder to see my laptop screen.

It’s, er… How on earth am I supposed to explain this? It’s an article, I say. Okay, fine, not an article. A Reddit post. About the hobby drama behind Disney parks and their fans.

Ein gives me a reproachful look at the fact that this is what I’ve been doing instead of Beboptober. That I opened up that tab and have just gotten lost in it—for the past three hours.

And that’s not all. Also on my laptop are the New York Times crossword, a questionably-legal copy of a Sophie Kinsella novel, and a game that’s like 2048 except it’s called “Large Hadron Collider” and the blocks are labelled with the names of subatomic particles.

In my defense, I say, playing that last one kinda helps me think…

But Ed, all thoughts of deadlines and spookiness forgotten, is fascinated by the 2048 knockoff. She avidly watches me as I move the little blocks, every so often suggesting new movements and giggling, and that’s what we do for the next half an hour.

(With no progress made on Beboptober.)

~~~~~

Hey, says the tiny Spike Spiegel who lives in my head. It’s, like, 11 PM. You doing Beboptober anytime soon?

Later, I think back, gritting my teeth, not lifting my eyes from the computer screen—which is not open to my Beboptober doc.

He raises an eyebrow. Y’know, it gets kinda boring just sitting here, in your head, waiting for you to make us do stuff and write about it…

See the full post

14 notes - Posted October 12, 2022

#4

Beboptober Day 23: Sweet Dreams

Thanks to @thestarlightsymphony for the prompt list! Honestly, this is basically the fanfic equivalent of what @yardsards​ describes here....

First it had been Spike, who’d collapsed on the Bebop’s couch and conked out almost immediately. This hadn’t surprised Jet. Spike slept a lot—more so than was healthy, Jet privately thought—and he’d seemed exhausted after his last hit, even more than usual. He’d stumbled into the Bebop’s living room in the early evening; Jet, from where he’d been parked in the chair across from the couch reading, could see the way his long, lanky frame slumped over in defeat. Now, his limbs lay indiscriminately splayed out across the couch; a cigarette, long snuffed out, trailed the floor from where it dangled from the fingers of his right hand. Despite the bags that still lingered under his closed eyes, his face was relaxed.

Then it had been Ed, who’d let out a big yawn and curled up on the couch in the empty space by Spike’s feet, contorting herself into a ball like a cat without Spike seeming to take any notice. Ein had hopped up next to her shortly thereafter, serenely dozing off with his head on his paws. This hadn’t surprised Jet either. He knew that Ed could sleep any time, anywhere—on the floor, curled up in cabinets, wedged between furniture; he’d even once seen the kid hanging upside down from a ceiling rafter, fast asleep. And something about seeing her napping right here—her manic energy temporarily subdued, a contented smile on her face; Ein filling the space made by the arc of her body, with her arms around him like a teddy bear—just felt right.

Then it had been Faye. She’d walked in and clocked the three other crew members sleeping on the couch together. She’d grinned and made a move towards her mobile phone, probably to take a photo to use as blackmail material forever, when she herself had cracked a huge yawn—not a delicate or dainty one, but long and loud, like she didn’t care who was watching—and sat down on the floor almost before she could help herself. Jet didn’t think she’d noticed him in the room at all. Now she sat asleep with her head falling forward towards her knees.

This had surprised Jet a little. He hadn’t expected her to let herself look so vulnerable in their presence, with her makeup smudged and her headband half coming off. Even turning in this early in the evening was unusual for her. But today she looked fatigued, as if she’d stayed up far too late the night before, her smudged-off foundation revealing the bags under her eyes. She seemed preoccupied. Jet knew the look from his colleagues in the ISSP working late on cases—it was the look of someone who was wearing out the same old grooves on something over and over again, trying to wrench meaning from its endless repetition. It was strangely incongruous to see it on Faye; he wondered what was bothering her. But now her face was soft and uncharacteristically peaceful, not twisted with snark or anger; her long, curled lashes rested on her cheeks, and her breathing was steady and even and soft.

They were all peaceful, relaxed in one another’s presence, not arguing or closed-off or demanding to know what the hell the others were doing there and pushing them away, as Jet knew may happen when they woke up. For now, they were calm, resting from the slings and arrows of the day together, even if they didn’t know it. He half-wondered what was going through their heads, whether they were having sweet dreams. But—not that he’d ever let on to the others—this, right here, was sweeter than anything he could think of.

If he had slightly fewer scruples, he’d be the one taking a picture for blackmail material. Or just to remember this time—this one fleeting moment—when they were happy.

But he wouldn’t. Not now.

Besides, he didn’t have the energy for it anyway. The heavy languor of the room had begun to settle over him, too—he could feel the pace of his breath slowing, his eyelids getting heavy….

14 notes - Posted October 26, 2022

#3

Beboptober Day 4: Hitchhiker on the Space Highway

Thanks to @thestarlightsymphony​ for the prompt list, and to my lovely roommate for, when I was blocked on what the heck to do with this prompt, suggesting the idea of writing something from Faye’s point of view around Session 4! I guess it makes sense, since I’d noticed that the prompts list was loosely organized by episode, which is really cool! In particular, this is set before and during the events of Session 4, “Gateway Shuffle.”

“Hi! Are you there? I just picked up your signal! I’m out of fuel at the moment, and I’d just love it if you could just take me to Ganymede, and I’d—”

Quick as a flash, the ship in front of Faye vanished.

She frowned, wrinkling her nose, both at the stranger’s rudeness—didn’t they know it was bad manners to take off in the middle of a conversation?—and at the situation in which she found herself. She hated having to hitchhike, to be dependent on others. It wasn’t like she was any stranger to manipulating people to get what she wanted, using her feminine wiles (however one defined them), but she at least liked having some choice in the matter, y’know? And that was a luxury she didn’t have right now—when she’d gambled away all the money she’d stolen from those two bounty hunters, Spike and Jet, and had nothing left.

But it wasn’t really so bad. Okay, so maybe her ship was completely out of fuel. Maybe it would take an interminable time of drifting through empty space for her to get to Ganymede, where she could refill it; maybe it was even farther from any Gate locations that would let her hightail it the hell out of here. But her ship had plenty of stores of food, water, and emergency supplies should it come to that. She could survive until she got help—which, would any luck, would hopefully be soon. In the meantime, she’d open up communications with every ship she came across, putting on her perkiest and most alluring voice, and she’d get help in no time.

She was strong. She’d survived worse.

She’d be fine.

~~~~~

“Hel-looo! I just picked up your signal! I, er, have a slight problem. I’m kind of out of fuel right now. So if you could just drop me off at Ganymede, I’d—”

The zoom of the ship flying off. The crackle of static that showed up on her end of the transmission. And then, silence.

Well, maybe she wouldn’t be so fine.

Her outlook on the situation was getting gradually more bleak. She’d been drifting for hours without any success or help. Ship flybys were few and far between in this desolate part of the solar system—pretty much a long, desolate stretch in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, a thought that wasn’t even dispelled by the sight of Jupiter looming grandly above her—and the few people who had flown her way had been too busy, or wary, or absorbed in their own problems, to pick up a poor hitchhiker on the space highway.

She was beginning to run out of rations; she’d eaten many of the freeze-dried, packaged meals she had in reserve. She could probably hold out a little longer with what remained, at least until she made it a good ways to Ganymede on just her ship’s inertia, but she wasn’t getting her hopes up. Her one bright spot, her little stash of chocolate, was long gone—maybe someone with more self-control would have saved it as a treat to eat little by little, but Faye thought that in the situation she was in, she pretty much deserved something sweet immediately. And lots of it.

She wished the spaceship had booze. And that she hadn’t used her last cigarette ages ago. Or that she’d bought more in the casino with the money she didn’t have.

Maybe she could ask someone for one. If anyone bothered. If they weren’t too goddamn selfish—too much so to even give her the time of day.

But annoying as everyone else was being, she’d keep trying. Her woman’s intuition hadn’t failed her yet.

~~~~~

“Hi! I’ve just picked up your signal! I’m having a bit of a problem here. I’m a little out of fuel. So if you could just maybe take me to Ganymede, I’d—”

“Sorry, lady,” came a nasal, querulous voice from the other end of the transmission. “I don’t pick up hitchhikers.”

Without further discussion, the ship zoomed off.

Well. Faye rolled her eyes and sat back in her chair with a sigh. At least that was a conversation.

It had been a while that she’d been drifting, and she was beginning to go stir-crazy. And who wouldn’t be, she reasoned, in her circumstance? Being trapped in a tiny, claustrophobic space surrounded by your own trash floating around you, your sole view the endless blackness of space punctuated only by Jupiter and its moons maddeningly out of reach, with no one to talk to except the occasional ship (and those conversations tended to be pretty one-sided)—well, that could really do a number on you.

She’d been making a perfunctory effort to avoid putting on her spacesuit up until now—somewhere in the back of her mind was the vague idea that it would use up valuable energy, and if a ship passed by while she was out on a spacewalk, she wouldn’t be able to communicate with them until it was too late. (Although she was pretty sure they’d notice someone outside a ship in a spacesuit, jumping up and down and waving their arms frantically). She’d resolved not to use it unless it was absolutely necessary.

Well, it was absolutely necessary now. Absolutely necessary to ensure she didn’t go insane in this teeny-tiny tin can!

As she suited up and performed the spacewalk—a quick one, she promised herself, in case she really did run the risk of missing out on communications and the possibility of being saved—she was amazed at how much better she felt already. Still constrained within her spacesuit, but so much more free. She wasn’t confined to the cockpit of her ship now; she was in…well, she was in the whole of space, really. The entire solar system. Vast and wide and open and…

And with endless miles of drifting along to go before she reached Ganymede. Or any form of civilization.

Dammit. Now this was just depressing.

When she climbed back into her empty cockpit, with no change from before—no new sights, no passing ships—it was almost a relief.

~~~~~

See the full post

15 notes - Posted October 5, 2022

#2

Beboptober Day 18: Don’t Lose Me

Thanks to @thestarlightsymphony​ for the prompt list! I know, it looks like I’ve skipped Day 17, and...I kinda have (sorry!), but not permanently. I’ve just had the idea for this for a really long time, so I’ve decided to catch up and do Day 17 at some other point during the month, along with another prompt. It will lead to things being a little out of order, but what’s life without a little variety, right?

Oh, and credit where credit’s due—I think I got the idea of Faye keeping a journal at all from Chapter 4 of @beccanoodles’ one-shot collection “With Love, From Bebop” (read it here), although in that one, Ed takes it over!

June 9, 2007

Dear Diary,

Today some of my friends and I found a Betamax tape recorder, and we all decided to use it to record messages to our future selves. It was a little embarrassing at first! I kept getting shy and having to turn the camera off and start again. I guess it was hard to think of things to say to myself ten years from now. At first, all I could say was “Good morning,” and that made everyone laugh. I suppose part of the reason why it was easier for my friends is that they know exactly what they want to be, and they can see their future selves so clearly. Sara wants to be a vetrenarian veterinarian, Mei wants to work on Hyperspace Gates. But it’s hard for me to to imagine my future self.

Ten years from now I’ll be 22, almost 23. That seems so adult! I’ll be a newer version of myself—ten years older, ten years wiser—more mature, I hope. I guess I’ll have graduated from school & university and I’ll have a job, unless I decide to become a doctor or something and have to go to even more school (UGH) and do lots of math (UGGGGHHHH). But I guess my future self knows best—maybe I’d actually be a great doctor and I don’t know it yet. I really have no idea what I’ll be doing with my life that far in the future….For a while I thought maybe I wanted to be an actress, because it sounded like fun. But I sort of gave up on that dream after I was only cast as Villager #3 in the play this year. (Vivien says it’s just because Director Chen doesn’t see my talents, but I think she’s just saying that to make me feel better!) Whatever it is I’m doing in the future, though, I hope it’s something I like, not just something I’m pushed into or anything. I bet I’ll be great at it, especially with 10 more years of experience!

Oh, and I hope that I’ve traveled lots of places and seen lots of new sights by the time I’m 22! I especially want to go to space and see some other planets. I’ve been to a few places on Earth with my family—I told you about that trip to Tokyo earlier in this diary, and we’ve also been to London and New York and a few parts of Beijing—but I’ve never actually been on a rocket, not even one that’s just in orbit. Someday I’d like to see other planets, like Mars or the Moon. (The Moon’s not a planet but whatever.) I bet it will be easier to go there in the future and they’ll have more people and stuff on them, specially with all that Mei says about the new advancing tecknology technology of Hyperspace Gates. It all sounds so exciting!

But there are also some things I hope don’t change. Like I hope that, so far in the future, I still have my friends. I’d be so sad to lose them, even if we just fall out of touch, which Dad says might happen now that we’re all entering our first year of secondary school. Maybe I’ll make new friends, though, in addition to the ones I have already. Maybe ten years from now all of us can watch the tape and laugh and remember how we used to be.

I wonder if I’ll have a boyfriend?

Now that I’m writing this and I’ve recorded the tape, I think, most of all, I hope I don’t change too much—that I don’t lose the things that make me me. Yes, my future self may seem really foren foriegn (dang it) foreign to me now, but she’s really just me, just a little older. I hope she’s still the good things my friends and my parents say I am—compassionate, caring, creative. Plus 10 years of experience and growth and stuff, of course. I hope she’s happy and she has friends, and she’s doing okay. I really want that to look forward to when I’m grown up. When I’m her, I guess.

I thought about this a lot today after my friends left and I did the rest of the recording by myself. I even put on my cheerleading outfit and gave my future self a cheer I’d made up! It’s a little embarrassing, now that I think about it…but I was proud of it. I hope my future self will like it. Or at least that it will make her laugh.

I don’t know what exactly will happen in the future, or what my future self will be like. When she arrives on the scene, I won’t be here anymore. But she won’t totally have lost me. I’m here right now, and even ten years from today I’ll still be there on the tape we recorded today and, I guess, in this diary. And in memories. My future self will know I’m cheering for her, that I love her so much and look up to her (how mature she must be!) and want things to be okay for her. I hope she’s looking back in time and cheering for me, too.

 - Faye ♡

16 notes - Posted October 19, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Sokka is the host of an obscure little radio show for his college's even more obscure little station, 96.1 FM KBRK. It's not always the glamorous work he imagined, but it's a fun way to share some of his tunes, stay connected with his friends, and monologue about his life—like the hot guy who's lately been occupying his mind far more than he'd like.

Zuko is a lonely philosophy student who finds solace in music. He's taken to listening to KBRK as he buries himself in his studies, and he finds himself especially fascinated by the show of one anonymous DJ Boomerang. But why does the mystery DJ keep mentioning his attraction for a guy who sounds a lot like Zuko? And who is the attractive, ponytailed junior who's reached out to Zuko seemingly out of nowhere?

@zukkaweek

A slightly late submission for Zukka Week Day 4, College AU/The Arts! (It’s an ongoing multi-chapter fic, so I’ll be updating even after Zukka Week ends.) Please enjoy, Zukka Nation!

69 notes - Posted May 27, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[hyperfocusthusly]

Downloading some AU Zukka thoughts;

- Okay so Zuko gets banished, but ends up on his own

- Somehow washes up in the southern isles and finds himself a cave to go flop in, happens to be nearby a certain water tribe

- Between injury, hunger, thirst, being out at sea and general exhaustion he’s gone a bit feral

- Maybe some of the kids from the tribe are out exploring and they find the cave

- Zuko warns them off with fire and they go home shouting about a dragon in a cave near the village

- Sokka is pretty sure that dragons aren’t real, or if they were they’re at least extinct, and even if they aren’t he’s fairly confident they don’t hang out in the snow

- He goes to investigate the cave and catches a glimpse of a boy, probably not much older than him, clearly hurt and in need of help, but he also gets fire shot at him

- He starts taking food to the cave, leaving it near the entrance, it never gets eaten but the fire always tells him the boy is still there

- He sits by the entrance for a while just talking, about the tribe, about the village, about anything just to try to tell the boy he’s not by himself anymore

- The food never gets eaten and Sokka starts to worry about it, he calls in to tell the boy that he’s going to come to the entrance, he’s not going to come in, not going to look at him, he just wants to show him the food is safe

- So he does, trying to be confident in the idea that he isn’t about to be set on fire, eats a spoon of the soup and a drink of the water in view and puts it back

- The next morning the bowl is empty, the water gone and Sokka finally feels some relief

- He starts to spend time just sitting near the edge of the cave, reading a book he borrowed from Gran Gran

- Each time he does he can hear the boy coming closer, shuffling along the wall of the cave

- One day, when he knows the boy is close, Sokka slides his hand into the cave and asks the boy’s name

- The boy bumps his hand into Sokka’s and a small flame writes in the snow

- ‘Zuko’

[prying-pandora666]

What Your Ship Says About You

It’s so interesting how certain ship fandoms behave relative to their characters.

Zutara fans are deeply passionate and ready to fight at any moment. They don’t care what canon (authority) says, they’ll fight them too. They also have very creative souls and explore possibilities that others wouldn’t have even considered. However they can be hotheaded and their passion can turn to aggression. Just like Zuko and Katara.

Kataang fans are more peaceful usually, content to bask in the zen of being canon. But if you drag them into a fight, they’ll bring the fury like they’re in the Avatar State! They strive to find coherency for the canon couple and accept what they cannot change rather than fight a fruitless battle. Just like Aang and Katara.

Ty Zula fans are fierce and sometimes they say things that don’t make sense to others because it’s based on “vibes” (auras). But if you insult them, they’ll come at you with the full force of their collective might. Just like Ty Lee and Azula.

Toko/Zutoph fans don’t care about the rules and are happy to enjoy their ship without feeling the need to defend it as canon. They’ll hit you over the head with their love for the ship in their memes or stealthily lure you in with fanart. Under their rash surface though, there’s some heartbreaking and vulnerable metas. Just like Toph and Zuko.

Zukka fans are just fun. Although sometimes there’s the occasion where they slip into taking themselves too seriously, and need to remember they have nothing to prove. They’re fine the way they are even if it’s not canon. Just like Zuko and Sokka.

Sukka fans are lovely and I haven’t ever seen them start fights with anyone, and yet Bryke continues to do them dirty and neglect them, even going so far as to imply this ship has broken up. Just like Suki and Sokka.

Maiko fans handle criticisms with smug dismissal and apathy a lot of the time, but set them off and you’ll see another side. It has ardent defenders but most of it seems like a defensive reaction against much more stable ships. Just like Mai and Zuko.

Taang fans are myths of epic proportion. Can’t tell if they never existed or if they simply vanished. Just like Toph and Aang.

Tokka fans are fun and most people will get along with them. But if you’re one of the few to get on their nerves or find them annoying? You’re gonna have a bad time. Just like Toph and Sokka.

Sokkla fans are tactical. They don’t usually get in fights for the ship, they just slowly lower your defenses with beautiful fan art. Sneaking in past your walls, once they’re in they’ll bring the receipts with their metas and brainwash you to their side. Just like Sokka and Azula.

Ty Suki fans are perfect and correct and deserve a giant gay island all to themselves and their girlfriends. Just like Ty Lee and Suki.

[erisenyo]

“Please come get me.” For Zukka

Please make this as angsty and emotional as possible I was it to hurt thank you

(Maybe self-inflicted damage? Not necessarily SH but just by being willfully reckless?)

For this prompt game!

“You don’t think this is concerning?”

“No, Sokka,” Katara says again, patient, a familiar blend of exasperation and fondness in her chest as she glances over to where he’s fiddling with his wrist wraps, frowning down at Zuko’s latest letter. “I think it’s fine.”

“You’re sure?” he presses, anxious in a way he so rarely lets himself be this openly, at least in front of the people he’s anxious about. And because she knows how much he does worry no matter how much he tries to hide it, she leans over, gently taking the letter out of his hand and indulging him in scanning it over once again.

“He says it’s not as cold as he expected,” she says, skimming over the lines as Sokka pulls a little face, “That Arnook was nice, that he misses you—” she peaks through her lashes at that bit, looking for any twitch on his face as he just continues to nod along. “—that he’s looking forward to seeing you again, that the food’s good, that tomorrow’s going to be a big day.”

She lets her hand drop to look at him, expectant, sighing when he just continues to nod, face anxious.

“Sokka,” she says gently, “He says he’s fine. And I know you miss him,” she adds when he continues to look unconvinced.

“That’s not it,” he protests immediately.

“But he’s only going to be gone for a few weeks.”

“Katara, that’s not—”

“And you’ll see him soon, okay?” she finishes, reaching out to grab his hand, giving it a little squeeze until he sighs and leans back.

“Yeah,” he says, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, okay,” he repeats, grabbing back the letter and putting on a bright smile like she doesn’t know exactly how to see through that, like she can’t see the way his thumb continues to worry at the edge of it. “So what was it you needed help with again?”

“Penguin sledding,” she says, abruptly changing the plan for the day and grinning at him when he blinks, nonplussed. “We need to pick out the best hills for the new season, for the little ones,” she says. “Make some maps, maybe, plan some routes, do some schedules.” All of his favorite things she can think of, to keep his mind off his worry.

--

“I don’t know,” Aang says apologetically as he and Sokka jump across a gap where the temple floor’s fallen away. Probably no one should stay in this hallway until they fix that… “I don’t think I’m hearing it.”

“No?” Sokka says, the syllable cracking with uncertainty.

“Tell me again, though,” Aang says quickly. “What did it say?”

Sokka huffs, a faint furrow between his brows as he digs out two pieces of paper, peeling the latest letter off the top. “He greets me,” he rattles off, eyes flicking over the page, Aang keeping half an eye on the placement of his feet since Sokka isn’t anymore, “He talks a bit about the canals, he mentions Yugoda, bending, bending, bending—”

“Oh?” Aang says, perking up. “Did he—”

“Stay focused,” Sokka orders, waving a hiding hand.

Aang sighs but obediently puts on his most attentive face.

“And then he says—” Sokka clears his throat, drawing himself up, so Aang makes sure he’s actually paying attention. “—that he had an interesting afternoon of discussions, that Sei Zun is missing his office, and that everything is going fine.”

Aang nods, projecting attentive with everything he has and freezing a little when Sokka just hits him with an expectant look.

“I mean,” Aang says slowly, scratching the back of his head. “It sounds like everything is going fine?”

“Fucking—” Sokka cuts off with an aggravated noise, throwing his hands up.

“I can write him myself for the bending stuff,” Aang blurts, scrambling for something to get the worried tightness off of Sokka’s face and wincing when Sokka just lets out another garbled noise because…yeah. That…probably wasn’t it.

--

“Run it back at me again, Loverboy,” Toph orders, flicking a little bit of stone toward the sound of Sokka’s feet when he makes a questioning little noise. “I can hear you worrying over there,” she says, giving an exasperated look in his general direction. “Get it out.”

He pauses, heartbeat a little too quick like it’s been all day, then, cautiously, “You already said it was nothing.”  

“Maybe I was wrong,” she shrugs. Sokka is excitable and far more anxious than he tries to let on, but that excitableness has gotten them out of more than one bind.

“…Um,” he says after a moment, hair rustling as he scratches under his wolftail.

“I mean, I don’t think I am,” she allows, grinning when he snorts and making a kicking up her feet. “But maybe you explained it to my shitty.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he laughs, a good sound over the rustle of papers as he tugs out those letters again. “Okay,” he says, getting serious, her words as much on his heartbeat as his words as she tries to pick up on what exactly is worrying him about this, “So it starts with saying things are fine—” ba-DUMP. “—talks about training a bit with some of the staff fighters—” ba-dump. “—talks about a canal ride—” BA-dump, interesting. “—he had a formal dinner, the food was nice, sea prune stew reminded me of him.” Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump, filling up his expectant silence as she plays back the words and weighs them and tries to pick them apart and…

“Yeah, Sokka,” she finally says, apologetic and wincing a little when he audibly slumps, heart dropping in a way she usually can’t literally sense. “I’m not hearing it.”

“You don’t—he doesn’t seem off to you?” Sokka presses, sounding like he isn’t sure whether to let the anxiety out or whether he wants to be assured.

���I mean, based on how you read it…” Toph shrugs. She always assumes Sokka puts the most dramatic read on anything that he’s able to, given the opportunity. He’s second only to Zuko, there.

“I just, I feel like I should go up there,” he says, weight shifting back and forth and back and forth.

“Do you think,” she says carefully, “That that might muddy the waters for him?” She flicks a pebble back and forth across the ground when he stays conspicuously silent. “He’s trying to build his own relationships, Sokka. Right?”

“Yeah,” he acknowledges, reluctant, beads rattling softly as he shakes his head. “I just—I just don’t think he’s okay.”

“He said he’s fine, like, multiple times in each letter.”

“Yeah,” he says again after a beat, sounding doubtful, and Toph nods, slow and serious and silently tossing aside every loose plan they had for the day. They don’t need to be talking to officials and discussing infrastructure projects when he’s in a mood like this, she decides. They need to be riding Omashu’s mail carts.

--

“And none of these are horny?” Mai checks again as she takes the offered stack of letters.

“No,” Sokka says again, openly fretting, not even exasperated, so Mai shrugs and quickly skims through the stack. She keeps her face still, her movements measured as she sips her sweet waterorange juice, her eyes skipping over bland descriptions, over details of Zuko’s day that are all about what Zuko did—

“Oh,” Mai says.

“Yeah?” Sokka pauses in his pacing, something half hopeful and half nervous on his face.

—over talk of other people and none of himself—

“Oh yeah,” Mai repeats, setting down her juice.

“Right?”

—and fine, fine, fine repeated over and over again.

“Yeah, this is not good,” Mai agrees.

“Thank you.”

“Wow,” she says, going back over that last letter again and lingering over the careful curve of Zuko’s characters. “He’s about to lose his shit.”

“Okay, yes.”

She flicks him a flat stare, incredulous. “Why are you still here?”

“He’s supposed to be building relationships with the Northern Water Tribe on his own,” Sokka says, shoving both hands through his hair and looking like he has to physically stop himself from tearing I out. “And everyone is saying I’m going to get in the way, and I don’t want to mess it up for him but I also don’t want it to be harder than it has to be, and he’s not okay I don’t care what everyone—bird."

Mai instinctively ducks beneath the table, watching from safety as a messenger hawk dives down to smack Sokka square in the back, the pair of them screaming and squawking and flailing in a mess of limbs and wings until the hawk finally manages to dump its scroll case and take off, disgruntled, leaving Sokka mussed and breathing heavily in its wake.

Mai cautiously slides back into her chair, Sokka’s eyes wide and flicking around the sky as she waits as long as she can before huffing pointed.

“Well,” she demands, flicking the scroll an expectant look. “What does it say?” Because she knows one of Azula’s overdramatic, overly trained birds when she sees one, which only two people in the entire Fire Nation use, and that one clearly wasn’t for her.

Sokka scrambles into motion, fumbling the scroll case opening, hands hasty and quick and—“Fuck.”

Mai straightens, snatching the scrap of paper out of the air when Sokka suddenly tosses it at her and takes off, staring after him a moment before carefully flattening it out along with the others he left her, knowing he’ll want them all back, and raising her eyebrows when she sees one firmly scrawled line in Zuko’s distinctly overly formal hand:

            Please come get me

“Well,” Mai purses her lips, wondering how exactly Sokka’s going to get himself there. “Fuck.”

--

Sokka leaps out of the newly streamlined transit balloon he’s been designing as soon as its close enough to the ground for him to not fuck up his knee with the landing, shouting a thanks over his shoulder and dashing over the freshly constructed landing pads, calling hellos in response to the startled exclamations he gets and scanning across the promenade for—

“Zuko!” he cries as he catches sight of that breadth of shoulders he’d recognize anywhere, that politely attentive angle of his head, the deep maroon of his robes standing out against the snow and in the cluster of periwinkle blue around him.

Zuko pivots toward him, face momentarily open, surprised and startled and relieved. “Sokka!” he calls back, immediately ignoring the others, hurrying forward, not exactly funning but intent, focused, determined, sweeping Sokka into his arms the second he’s close enough, leaning into him as Sokka leans back, sighing in relief to be surrounded by his warmth, to feel him solid and heavy against him and so, so beloved.

“Hey, love,” Sokka whispers, ignoring the uncertain crowd around them and mouthing a silent thank you when Poak catches his eye before waving everyone else back to give them space.

“Hey,” Zuko says into his shoulder, shaky, laughing a little and clutching Sokka even tighter.

“I missed you,” Sokka says, clearing his throat and feeling his eyes stinging as he presses his smile against Zuko’s hair.

“Mhm.” Zuko pushes harder into Sokka’s chest.

“I decided I couldn’t wait to see you again,” Sokka murmurs, running a hand up Zuko’s back, something in him unwinding as he feels the familiar lines of Zuko's back moving as Zuko laughs again, wet. “So I figured hey, why not take a little trip.”

“Is that your new experimental design?” Zuko asks, shifting just enough to glance over Sokka’s shoulder. “It didn’t drop you out of the air.”

“Nope,” Sokka grins, sinking his fingers into Zuko’s hair. “It did not.”

Zuko hums, turning into his neck. “I missed you,” he whispers, heartfelt.

“Yeah,” Sokka says, the words coming out thick as he pulls Zuko more firmly against him. “Me too, buddy.”  

 Zuko sighs, relaxing into him inch by inch, the two of them just breathing together, even and slowly falling into sync.

“I am going,” Zuko finally says, tone nearly abstract, distant, “To punch him in the fucking face.”

Sokka blinks a little. Wha—

“If I have to see one more smug look—”

“Ah,” Sokka says, realizing.

“—or listen to one more fucking sour, pretend offhand comment—”

“Right,” Sokka says, smoothing a hand down Zuko’s back and glancing around, making sure Pakku isn’t actually in Zuko’s line of sight right now.

“You would not believe—”

“Oh, I would,” Sokka says, with feeling. The meetings he's been in with that man...

“That man,” Zuko hisses, literally steaming with the force of his anger.

“Yup,” Sokka agrees, giving him a solid pat. Sokka knows exactly how he feels.

“If Katara gets to lay him out—”

“Katara isn’t the Fire Lord,” Sokka quickly points out. And Pakku is, for better or worse, enough of an ass not to want anyone to know he got decked by a girl.

“I’ll fucking give it up for the chance to—”

“Okay, okay,” Sokka says, giving Zuko another firm pat and glancing around for some redirection. Lighting things on fire should probably be out, Sokka didn’t bring his sword—“Want to go find a big stick?”

Zuko is still a moment, then pulls back just enough to peak at him, gold eye half-narrowed and suspicious.

“I can throw some snowballs,” Sokka offers, inviting. “You can smack them.” Zuko hesitates, openly considering, so Sokka adds, "They explode."

“Okay let’s go,” Zuko says almost before he gets the words out, grabbing his hand and interlacing their fingers together as he hauls Sokka off and away from the confused clump of Northerners, Sokka tossing a wave over his shoulder and an apologetic shrug, happy to let himself be pulled along—at least until Zuko pauses at the first intersection, uncertain, and Sokka can take over.

[comradekatara]

oh ur voltron essay is so incredibly true. it also provides some answers to the bafflement i have been experiencing when looking at zukka tags. like, i was THRILLED when zukka got popular bc i thought it would be freedom from the endless katara ship wars. but people have gotten so incredibly weird. the amount of racist mischaracterization in the tumblr zukka-sphere is out of control. i had accepted that the majority of zukka shippers do not understand the characters at all, and you have now made me realise: not only do they not understand the characters, they see them as. fucking keith and lance. this is horrifying i’m gonna have to sit and contemplate it for a long time

yeah no the katara ship wars are still waging on, people are also just racist about sokka now too. which is awesome. but yeah if not for the fact that i see people compare them to klants all the fucking time (even before zukka got popular, in fact) i would think that im somehow delusional and exaggerating these trends but i know im not because people are constantly admitting it. just saying it out loud. like i used to see people calling sokka and zuko “rivals” a lot and that is clearly a byproduct of klantsification because everyone knows that sokka and azula are rivals. sokka and zuko are simply not rivals in any way except for in the sense that they were trying to kill each other in book 1 i guess. but i’d hardly call that a “rivalry.”

its like. sokka hates zuko and wants him dead and then zuko comes to the western air temple and begs to be let into their group and sokka doesn’t trust him but aang says that he does and sokka knows that aang needs a firebending teacher so that he can defeat the firelord and win the war so sokka is like “okay if that’s what you want, aang” and then he still doesn’t really like or trust zuko at all (at one point he even tells him to go jump into a volcano, which is the TV Y-7 way of getting “kill yourself” through s&p) but he needs information on zuko if he’s going to rectify his mistake and then zuko insists on tagging along for his suicide mission and sokka doesn’t really care whether or not zuko lives or dies so he’s like “yeah fine whatever it’s your funeral” and then zuko demonstrates that he’s actually really earnest and sincere and charmingly awkward and willing to do anything to help sokka and always follows his lead so sokka is like “okay i like this guy now” and then they’re friends and that’s that. at no point does sokka view him as a rival.

as for zuko. zuko doesn’t really care about sokka because he’s hyperfocused on capturing aang and literally nothing else matters and then he decides that he would do anything to help the avatar defeat his father and then sokka kills the indestructible walking wmd of an assassin zuko had previously hired with just his boomerang and then zuko helps sokka infiltrate the boiling rock and proves that he would literally die for him for nothing in return except the reward of seeing him happy. so at no point does zuko consider sokka his rival because he just straight up knows that sokka is better than him in every possible way and he respects that (to an almost unhealthy degree) and just follows his lead unquestioningly. if anything zuko’s rival is also azula, because they were always competing for the same affections. (except azula considers sokka her rival, while zuko considers azula his rival.)

and ppl will frame ZUKO as being out of SOKKA’S league and it’s like. the whole POINT is that sokka is out of zuko’s league and zuko knows it the whole world knows it!!!! they’re not rivals, sokka isn’t a wacky flirty idiot, zuko genuinely terrorized him for months on end, their friendship is built on the intensity of zuko’s devotion genuinely outweighing his previous crimes. anyone who cannot see past the aesthetic similarities between what is a genuinely compelling dynamic between two very well-constructed, dimensional characters and personified shallow tropes written and shipped together in a cynical cash grab should not be engaging with zukka as a ship.

it was so much better in the beforetimes, when no one knew that gay people existed, and everyone who did even remotely ship them was like “awww I love their bromance. #brosforever” because at least then they actually kind of understood what their dynamic was even if they weren’t reading any sort of romantic subtext into it. but I do want to make myself clear. reading romantic subtext into sokka and zuko’s relationship is a genuinely coherent and informed reading of the text. it is not a “headcanon” or a “crackship,” it is a valid interpretation of what is depicted onscreen.

“the boiling rock” is truly the gay subtext episode of atla (and by that I also mean the azula mai ty lee love triangle, which was truly a life changing moment for me as a child) and while there are of course multiple valid readings of characters’ motivations and behaviors as grounded in and informed by the text, especially when it comes to unspoken romantic motivations, i really do think that it’s in no way a stretch to assume that due to factors such as — a) zuko knowing sokka and saying sokka’s name way more than he says any other gaang member’s name b) zuko risking his own life to blindly follow sokka on a suicide mission to an impenetrable supermax when he is literally wanted by the state for high treason, and trusting his lead unconditionally c) zuko just generally being so soft and docile around sokka when he’s normally a tightly wound ball of stress and rage who yells at anyone who so much as looks at him funny, and of course d) zuko literally flirting with sokka in the cooler??? because I don’t know how else to explain that scene that looks like it came straight out of a cheap porno — really do seem to indicate that zuko is down bad for sokka.

and seeing as a) reading zuko as gay is already such a logical way to read his entire character arc and the significance of his journey and b) pretty much everyone they meet is down bad for sokka (assuming they’re not already down bad for katara, that is), it’s really not an incoherent or fantastical ship. like, ymmv on whether sokka actually returns zuko’s feelings (I am mostly a proponent of one-sided zukka, but I also think that I could sort of see them getting together in their late 20s or smth. idk), it’s a genuinely compelling and coherent way to read their dynamic nonetheless. the problem is when people reduce their preexisting, compelling dynamic in service of conforming to narrow and often harmful (eg, racist) troping.

i am genuinely compelled by zuko’s uncharacteristic, almost hero-worship of sokka, his desperation to be his friend to the point of following him to the ends of the earth to prevent him from quite literally killing himself. and i think there’s something really lovely about the way these two teenage boys who have both struggled so much to conform to a harmful and militaristic masculinity could embrace their nerdier and more sensitive qualities (eg, zuko is canonically a theater kid who is apparently “quite the seamstress,” sokka is canonically a poet[ry appreciator] and likes to draw and carve) together.

i love the idea of a postcanon wherein sokka acts as zuko’s senior advisor and basically willingly puppets him and runs the fire nation from the shadows (while also doing the same in the earth kingdom simultaneously, because let’s be real, both zuko and kuei are out of their depths), and how that would also complicate their dynamic. but of course anyone who does subscribe to the “sokka works in the fire palace” hypothetical always makes sokka an “ambassador,” which is just stupid. sokka would not be satisfied merely doing ambassadorial busywork, he is literally an incorrigible control freak and he would be shadow running the fire nation, at zuko’s behest. and so on and so forth.

and yet, all the fanart of them is either wildly out of character, or sokka and zuko’s personalities have literally been reversed, which is somehow even worse. i won’t pinpoint exact examples, but im also pretty sure that if you took my hand and we went into the zukka tag together, i would just be like “nope. no. no. wrong. incorrect. wildly incorrect. egregiously wrong. no. incorrect.” and so on and so forth for every single post.

so yeah. the reason i don’t really discuss their dynamic anymore, despite still finding it compelling in its own right, is because the fans genuinely annoy me so much that they’ve turned me into a hater. it’s not even that it’s a bad ship, or that it’s not my personal cup of tea, or that’s it not grounded enough in canon for my liking. i think they’re fascinating to chew on as presented in the text. but what “fans” have done to “them” has warped whatever potential they actually have in the text into something that is both sinister and obnoxious. those aren’t sokka and zuko anymore. that’s lankka and keiko. and i don’t know those guys. they are total strangers to me. and they’re annoying and shallow and cliched and have i mentioned annoying. and i hate them.

[the-badger-mole]

So I’m a Zukka shipper not a Zutara shipper and I’m not as anti-Aang as you are but I love following you because you aren’t afraid to engage with the flaws in Aang and the source material. Like it’s an amazing show but it’s not as perfect as people make it out too be and several of those flaws come from how Aang’s flaws are never truly addressed

Like people claim that Aang overcomes his running away impulse to defeat Ozai and I’m like - did we watch the same show? This boy left his friends scrambling to come up with a brand new plan on the fly with mere hours to go before the genocide of the earth kingdom because he had to run away and try and come up with a solution that didn’t compromise his 12-year-old understanding of his cultural values.

Anyway - thanks for your thoughts, I don’t agree with all of them but they are always refreshing

Thank you! Glad to have you on board, differences and all.

Honestly, most of my outright hatred for Aang came in the post series when he didn't change or grow in the comics and Bryke and all the Aang stans were out not only excusing his flaws, but treating them like he was right all along! I have literally had someone come to my page and tell me that Aang didn't have to grow because he was supposed to have a flat arc, and then also defend his worst moments because he was a child who didn't know better. Which is it? Is he wise beyond his years and the only voice in the show we should trust? Or is he not responsible for his actions because he's...12 (and still should know better)?

I'm going to blow your mind a little and say him disappearing the night before his fight with Ozai wasn't completely his fault. Then I'm going to fix it by saying, it was the fault of the writers because they knew they didn't want Aang to kill Ozai, but chose not to address it until they'd literally painted themselves into a corner where killing Ozai was the only choice that made sense. Because of their refusal to make Aang grow and learn and be an active participant in ending the war, Aang looked selfish, short-sighted, and criminally, dangerously naive, and the only way to get out of it was TWO dei ex machina. Why would they not show their hero contemplating his duty and wrestling with it before the second to last episode? No idea. But it is Bryke's fault that I hate their pet character so much

[seven-oomen]

Really wanna be writing that zukka fic where Iroh protects Zuko from Ozai and Azulon by asking the southern water tribe to take him as a prisoner of war. Though he does so under an anonymous contract.

And although Hakoda refuses said contract, circumstances just so happen that Sokka does end up taking "Lee" (Zuko) as a prisoner of war. (Both Zuko and Sokka are 20 in this).

So Zuko is taken to the southern water tribe just before Ozai can order an assassination on him to rid himself of "the weak link" in the family.

And although Sokka treats him kindly, and with decency, Zuko's not having a good time adjusting to the water tribe ways and the goddamn cold. (Though he learns to appreciate the tribe later on).

Somewhere along the way Zuko and Sokka also find a dragon egg hidden deep in an ice cave. Sokka wants to eat it, Zuko rescues the egg instead and in the dead ass of winter Druk hatches. The tribe now has a baby dragon to deal with. Sokka is very skeptical but Druk and Zuko together are very cute, plus they have a dragon now! How cool is that??

Katara (17) befriends Zuko in the meantime, and has a blast watching her brother and friend dance around each other. They're so fucking obvious they like each other...

But they also can't act on their feelings because Zuko is a prisoner, technically. Even though the village has adopted him at this point and Zuko feels right at home among the people. By the time the first spring comes, Zuko is struggling with the idea of staying in the tribe or returning home to his family.

[zukkaart]

A:tLA ships as classics quotes

Zukka: “You said I killed you- haunt me then! Be with me always -take any form- drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I can not find you!”

Kataang: “Have a heart that never hardens, and a temper that never tires, and a touch that never hurts.”

Mailee: “Love is just a word until someone comes along and gives it meaning”

Zutara: “I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be.”

Sokkla: “Everything is beautiful because we are doomed.”

Maiko: “I was within and without, simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life”

[bylightofdawn]

So stuff I've discovered in my second full rewatch of Avatar: the Last Airbender. Note it's prolly been 10+ maybe even 15 years since I fully rewatched the show and my tastes have changed, as have I as a person. I used to be all about the Zutarra lifestyle back in the day. I was so disappointed they were cowards and didn't give us that delightfully spicy couple as canon. I didn't mind Kataang and thought it was cute but it didn't really do much for me.

I still see the appeal of it but uh...I've kinda shifted to Zukka hardcore but with a caveat. I don't want teenage Zukka with them constantly butting heads and arguing. I want like 10-15 years post-canon Zukka who are older and more mature and still fucking idiots. I want a disgusting amount of pining and suffering in silence. Them going through multiple relationships that just don't work out for some reason or another. It's because they aren't Zuko or Sokka but neither want to admit it to themselves.

And then they get their shit together and everyone around them is like "FUCKING FINALLY. OH MY GOD"

I've also come out of this re-watch with a burning love for Hakoda/Bato because oh my gawd long-term friends who slowly realize even through tragedy and heartbreak, they can still find happiness and maybe the one you wanted all along was right there in front of you the whole time? asgjdhglkdhgkljdhgljkdhfljkashflkjdshx that's fucking kryptonite for yours truly.

Give me middle-aged people pining and finding love for the second time in their lives.

[ultfreakme]

Nah Zutara is def happening. Two of the writers (Omashu and Into the Dark) are Zutara shippers and liking Zutara content all the time esp about Kiawentiio and Dallas. The Netflix accounts are pushing Zutara like crazy. Albert Kim is an enemies to lovers enthusiast and said that the original endgame ships are up in the air.

I am trying so very hard to be objective about this and so I am going to tell you what I'm seeing in the nicest way possible but I'm really sorry if I can't:

I've checked the official Netflix account, I follow it on twitter, nothing afaik. The closest I found was picture sets but they did it for Dallas and Gordon, Dallas and Ian, Elizabeth Yu and Kiawentiio too, and obviously Gordon and Kiawentiio, all the duos. There's a video clip of Kiawentiio throwing out a question card about if Katara likes Zuko and their first immediate reaction is laughing (and not in a way that's confirming it- like Dallas was about to clap and Ian gave a thumbs-up, not encouraging and they conclude it with saying a lukewarm 'no kinda well' likely because it's spoilers for season 3).

Kiawentiio right after an interviewer mentioned Zutara, she said and I quote ; "What Avatar are you watching?"

Albert Kim on Kataang:

It's being delayed to S2 because the age difference looks way too obvious in live action. It's still happening, just later when the actors look closer in age. They heavily hint towards future Kataang by comparing Aang and Katara to Tui and La on-screen (Yue saying the ocean will forever search for its counterpart while panning between Aang and Katara whos is reaching out for him, and Sokka and Yue where Sokka's begging Yue to stay- it's very on-the nose).

The OG show also had creatives who like Zutara, they inserted bait for it in the chibi shorts but nothing came of it in any canon and everything is steadfastly for Kataang. Heck, currently the cast are pushing Zukka all the time, doesn't mean it's going to be canon(Dallas Liu and Ian Ousley saying "hey ship our characters!" word-for-word does not equal Zuko and Sokka are going to date for real in the show).

It's disappointing that fanon ships aren't canon, but that's just what you sign up for when shipping fanon. You are not going to to get what you want, neither am I.

Kataang is the heart of the show, nothing will take that away and I think it's best to just, make peace with that instead of looking too hard into behind-the-scenes and cast stuff hoping THIS is when it's going to happen(I play along with the Zukka bait because it's funny, not because I think it's going to be real).

Also, writers liking Zutara content? Fine, do you, have a blast! It DOES get weird when they're sincerely promoting Dallas and Kiawentiio as an item though because they met when she was like 15 and he was 19/20, and now she's 17 while he's 22 now. She's a child, he's an adult pretty much their entire work relationship. That's really freaking weird. EDIT: Dallas and Ian, who are the actual adults in the cast have been actively redirecting all ship-related conversations towards themselves and their characters because they CAN handle whatever flame wars erupt from that, meanwhile Gordon and Kiawentiio are children so they shouldn't even be in the discussion as actors when it comes to the fictional ships.

[ash-and-starlight]

OOPS I MEANT ZUKKA SCENE 😳

oh! my favorite zukka scene is this one <3

[writer-in-theory]

a splash of color (like no other) — zukka.

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), Aang/Katara (Avatar) Characters: Sokka (Avatar), Zuko (Avatar), The Gaang (Avatar) Additional Tags: Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Bad Parent Ozai (Avatar), Mutual Pining, Canon-Typical Violence, Angst and Feels, Good Parent Hakoda (Avatar), At least hakoda tries his best, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Idiots in Love, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Summary: When Sokka's soulflowers bloom red, he's sure the spirits have gotten something wrong. There's no way the spirits would match him with someone from the people who took away his parents. When Katara's soulflowers bloom grey, he's even more sure that the spirits are full of shit. How could her soulmate be from the Air Nomads when they were killed a hundred years ago? When Zuko's soulflowers bloom blue, he knows he'll be lucky to last until adulthood. Soulmate AU where flowers bloom in the color of your soulmate's nation.

Excerpt:

It was supposed to be a special day—the day a person turns ten years old and their soulmark finally blooms. It’s the day that the soul connection becomes fully formed, when someone can begin to find the person who’s meant to be their other half. Usually the people of their tribe find their marks quickly; most of them never being destined to leave the comfort of the Southern Water Tribe. Their marks all come in the matching blue of the water tribe—an almost certainty that Sokka was supposed to have followed.

His parents were doing the thing where they talk without words, simply staring at each other above him as if that’s all it takes to understand each other. Sometimes, Sokka wondered if it might’ve been possible, considering the shared flowers he knew his parents bore. 

“Why’s it not blue?” Sokka demanded, his little heart beginning to flutter with the building tension of the room. “What’s it mean, Dad?”

The sound of his title broke Hakoda from his silent conversation with Kya, his expression falling under his control once more. Sokka called it his ‘Chief look’, when his face fills with seriousness and determination.

“Do you remember what we told you about these marks, son?” Hakoda asked him, his hand replacing Kya’s to cradle Sokka’s wrist in the air. The movement revealed the blue-colored freesias curling around Hakoda’s wrist and forearm. Sokka had spent a long time tracing along the petals of them, demanding his dad tell him the story of how he and Kya met years before. No matter how many times he’d told the story, his father never failed to smile and retell it. 

The moment you first meet your soulmate is like seeing the world in color for the first time. There’s nothing like it.  

“It’s my soulmate,” Sokka answered, studying the red (and distinctly not blue) petals carefully. They stood out among the whites and blues of the water tribe’s clothing, among the blue of his parents’ own flowers. 

“It’s a fire lily,” Hakoda explained then, waiting with all the patience in the world as Sokka processed the information himself.

Red. Fire. He’d never seen them in person, but everyone in the tribe knew the stories of the Fire Nation raids, when they’d stolen every waterbender for the sole purpose of weakening the Southern Water Tribe. Red meant danger, badness . It shouldn’t be swathed against his skin now, not in this flower, not where there should be blue.

[momos-servants]

Magical beings series

Tags:

Dragon Zuko who’s super bad at emotions

Magical bonding (familiars) with Sokka the human (engineer)

Badass Suki (bear shifter) and badass Toph (earth mage)

Alternative Universe: Fantasy

Relationship(s):

Zukka w/slow burn

Toph & Suki are tired of them

Excerpt :

From Chapter 1 of the second part of the series

“You don’t want me to go anywhere without you Zuko,” Sokka states, almost in a whisper tone. “You won’t let me go on the customer quest without you coming along. You get mad at me for walking to the market without you. I can’t go hunting without you. I can’t do a lot of things without you.”

Zuko takes a sudden sharp breath of air in. He holds it, afraid of letting go of the remaining fresh air. His chest burns, but he’ll battle through the feeling. Sokka drops his gaze to the hands in his lap and fidgets with his nails.

“Sokka,” Zuko begins, grabbing hold of one of Sokka’s hands to hold. He’s seen other humans do this before, it must be a sign of companionship. The quick drumming of Sokka's heart beats faster, and he can’t decide if that is a good or bad thing. “It’s hard for me to explain why I don’t like you going places without me. Something in me thinks about all the bad things that can happen to you, and I get frightened. It’s not because you’re weak, it’s because I’m terrified.”

[transboysokka]

YES divorced zukka is great because of the longing and angst of separation etc etc but what’s ALSO delicious is the individual suffering and I’m talking about their Other Issues…

ALL the trauma from the war and everything else that comes up along the way… they’re dealing with that alone for decades. They’re not there to help each other

How are they coping? ARE they dealing with it? Will it change them?? Are they able to even recognize each other when they get back together??

[erisenyo]

I'd say we can blame the Zukka server for this one except it's been kicking around for a while all on it's own

NSFW ahead - Zutara, bloodbending, humiliation kink, D/s vibess, conensual but not sane or safe, I think we can see where this is going

The first time she has him on his knees it’s an accident—almost.

Katara grunts as Appa takes off, instinctively shifting her weight to counterbalance the heave of take-off, the rush of bloodbending still in her ears. It’s a sharp, jagged thing, sticky in the way it clings to her bending, tugging her awareness away from the rolling ocean and toward the smallest rush instead, looking to grab and hold and crush the water to her will and she knows it’s not water but it’s close enough and she’s just doing what she has to do, what Zuko came with her to do, so for him to turn away like he’s horrified by her, like she’s the monster when he—

“What was that?” Katara snarls, the words bursting out of her, her bending thrumming like she can feel the pulse of every venule in her fingertips.

“What?” Zuko says after a pause, delayed and not looking at her, acting like there’s anything at all to see except ocean over the side of Appa’s saddle, when the only thing around to look at is—

“Back there,” Katara snaps, bending throbbing along with the words and her pulse, high and wild and looking for something to grab onto and that’s the hardest part of bloodbending, the way it wants to be used once it’s been called, a rising flood pressing against the dam of her control. “On that ship, when you—”

“My information was out of date,” Zuko has the gall to shrug, even stiffer than usual about it and nearly entirely turned away, like she’s too disgusting to even look, at the edge of the saddle like he’d be leaping out of it if he had anywhere to go. “But it’s fine, we got his location, we just have to go to—”

“I’m not talking about information,” Katara spits, “I’m talking about you.”

A jerk, his voice coming high and thin. “I—me?”

“You think you’re better than me?” Katara hisses, wishing she could revel in that fear except all she wants his for him to snap and snarl back so that she’d have the excuse to— “Like you’ve never done what you had to do? I don’t need your judgment, Prince Zuko.”

“What?” he says, almost turning toward her before he catches himself. “No, I—” Like he has any ground to try to deflect when he’s acting like she’s something too shameful to even acknowledge. “You just—”

“Shut! Up!” The bending lashes out with the force of it, whipping and rolling right at the object of her rage and freezing his jaw if not his throat.

So when he moans in the sudden silence, they both hear it, clear and lingering even in the rush of wind and waves.

“What—” Katara pulls back, her shock quickly twisting into ready anger as he gasps and whirls fully away like she’s— “Are you mocking me? You think this is a joke?” she snarls as he just shakes his head, mute.

“No, no,” he says, the words tripping out of him, “I don’t, I don’t, I—"

“This isn’t some trick—”

“—I know, I know, you’re—"

“—that you can just laugh at,” she shouts, the bending lashing out of her mid-word, snapping his jaw shut and wrapping into his veins and arteries and forcing him to turn and face her.

It’s a rush of adrenaline-fueled rage and she’s braced to counterbalance his resistance, so she overspins when he goes limp into it instead. She stumbles, instinctively yanking him down as she finds her balance and the way he folds right to his knees, not even fighting.

Katara only half-releases him in surprise this time, but it’s enough for his whimper to go from strangled to loud and clear halfway through, the sound loud and clear, fear and—and making fun of her, when they’re—when this whole thing was his—when they wouldn’t even be here if not for—

“Stop mocking me,” Katara screams, her hands clawing the air as she purposefully reaches out this time, gripping him tight and making him feel her, making sure he feels her bending everywhere.

“I’m—not—a—joke,” she snarls, setting her feet and shoving away the part of her that wonders what Aang would think of her using all their time practicing bending in the air for this and focusing on the wild feeling of exactly what she could do to him instead.

She lifts Zuko bodily into the air until he’s barely supporting his own weight, back arched and arms splayed wide and knees just graving the saddle, making sure he feels her power down to his fucking toes. She strangles any more sounds as she flattens his tongue to the roof of his mouth, his head kicking back, and she can feel the way his pulses pounds, feel the flush of fear in him, the blood rushing to his cheeks and extremities and his—

Zuko lets out a sound that any other time would be protest as she releases him so abruptly he collapses down onto the saddle. But she knows its just gasping for breath and the shock of regaining control of himself after—after straining, ice replacing the rolling fury in her veins as she stares at Zuko fumbling up onto his knees and back, scooting away, his knees drawn up like—like protection. Like he needs protection from her. His chest heaving and mouth wide and face turn away so she can only see his scar and just a sliver of skin, usually pale but still flushed red with—

Katara whirls away, fists clenched at her side as she tries to will away the voice too like Aang’s in the back of her head murmuring ‘two-headed rat viper,’ sadly and quietly and understandingly, like there’s anything here to—

“Get us to Yon Rha,” Katara grits out, the words rough in her throat like she was the one fighting to scream, and Zuko just gasps behind her, breaths harsh, and Katara decides that that is answer enough.

--

The second time she has him on his knees, it’s on purpose. Mostly.

Because the problem is she can’t stop thinking about it, that—that sound. About that sound, and about the way he’d looked at her.

So in snatches and glances and sidelong looks, through the rest of the night and into the morning she watches him. Through the trek across the nondescript, nothing island to the nondescript, nothing village to the nondescript, nothing man who killed her mother, she keeps him in the corner of her eye.

And she knows that he can tell she’s watching, she can see it in the way he holds himself and the angle of his head and in the mortified redness that never truly leaves his face. In the stiffness of his body when she makes the rain fall like daggers around them. And in the look in his eye when he snatches furtive looks back, too, even though she doesn’t know how she knows it, something in his gaze she can’t place except that it makes her think again of that sound, and what it felt like to have him helpless in her hold, and he way he’d curled his legs up in front of himself after…

“Why didn’t you fight me,” Katara demands later as they pause by a stream, Zuko crouching down to wipe the sweat from his face and neck, his hands, cupping water into his mouth and the power of the moon is still lingering in her chi and for a while moment she imagines she could cup that water in her bending, too, cup it and follow it past his lip and—

“You didn’t even try,” she snaps when he just avoids her gaze, temper scraped raw by the idea of being denied this on top of being denied the struggle, on top of all the righteous fury crested inside her with nowhere to go. “You always—you fight why wouldn’t you—”

She breaks off, clenching her hands into fists against the jagged surge in the midst of the rolling ocean of her bending, Zuko hunching forward even more and still not answering, hunching over himself just like before, which means this is the same, which means—

Which means not what she thinks its means. Which means she was wrong then, and she’s wrong now, and he’s just mocking her again, mocking her like—

“It’s like you want to be on your knees,” she accuses, remembering the way he—blurting the words before she even fully thinks them, bravado over uncertainty and then when he just looks away, doesn’t even have the nerve to make a sound, “Or like you want me to put you there.”

Zuko just swallows hard, a flush crawling up his face, and Katara feels like her own face is flushing, barely-banked adrenaline surging back to life and her bending along with it.

“Toph told me how to spot a liar, you know,” she says, watching his lips part as he gasps and she has no idea where the threats are coming from. “I can feel hearts beating and pulses pounding just as well as her.” The quick flash of his tongue, like his lips are suddenly dry. “Would you be lying now if I checked you?”

Katara doesn’t know why she holds her breath, jagged anticipation in her throat, but it’s the only reason she hears the whimper that slips past his bitten lip over the sound of the stream, the noise that’s fear but also—it’s also—

“Should I check?” she says, the words coming out taunting, challenging, her bending shivering with readiness, her awareness sharpening from the heavy rush of the stream to the tight-quick-fast pulse on front of her as Zuko pants a moment, still half-folded forward.

Then, unsteady and low, gold eyes suddenly peaking through his lashes and the fall of his hair, “If it would make you feel better.”

Katara bloodbends him. Not like before, not with that sharp urge to wrench, but shoving into every bit of him hard enough to make him gasp, to make his whole body jerk with it and then go still, caught as she holds, flexing against every bit of him and—

“You like this,” she accuses as she quickly releases him, like that does anything to erase the bright feel of the pathways and pools of his blood from her mind.

And Zuko shakes his head, chest heaving and gasping and that’s familiar to her, too familiar, but the flutter of his lashes along with it—

“Are you lying?” she challenges, and she wonders if he can feel the potential of her bending pulling at his blood as he pants, open-mouthed a moment, body going tight.

Then, “You could check,” he rasps, and it’s such an open invitation that even half-expecting it, Katara still stares a moment before grabbing hold again, pushing to the liquid core of him but leaving his throat free because the way he keens, like he wants it, like she doesn’t even need to check his throbbing pulses to know—

Zuko is still folded half over himself, so she makes him straighten to sit back on his heels, first. Then she makes him drag up his head to look at her, makes him keep his eyes open until they bead and water and she’d do something about that except for the way the strain against her grip is like he’s trying to tilt back into it. And then she forces his knees to spread, wide enough to draw out a panting whimper and further than she expected and more than enough to see the bulge in his pants.

“You like it,” Katara says, her mouth suddenly dry—adrenal response, a voice like Yugoda’s says in the back of her head—as she stares at the dark fabric straining against the length of him, the way she can see his shape so clearly, see him press flat by the fabric against his own leg and it can’t be comfortable and—

 Katara gives him enough play to talk, to argue, to say its stress or adrenaline or just the natural responses of a teenage male body experiencing hormonal surges. But he just groans, letting out a low, pleading sound of denial and she can feel the way he strains to close his thighs but she still has him in her hold and she’s attuned to his blood, she can feel the way he’s reacting, she has felt it, and even if she couldn’t she can see.

“You like it,” she says again, more to herself except she can see the way he bites his lip against it even as she can feel the rush of his blood, can feel exactly where it’s pooling and even if he doesn’t like it, his body undeniably does.

Except Katara thinks he might like that, too. Because his invitation is still hanging in the air and she can’t fight the urge to figure this out, figure him out, arching his back—he likes that—and flexing his fingers—he’s indifferent, or what baselines as indifference for him in the current situation—and closing his lips—oh, he really like that, that gives her a new baseline. And she can see the hardness between his legs, the one she isn’t causing, at least not with bending—at least not directly with bending. And she can see the way he gasps and pants as much as she’ll allow it, hear the half-pleading groans that don’t entirely muffle against his sealed lips.

And the way she can feel the strain of his body, what he fights and what he tries to sink into, the shivers and tremors and Tui and La the jerks of his hips that she presses instinctively to stillness, and then again because the way it makes him moan—she shoves with her bending, gripping and pushes and finally following the flow of blood as much as controlling it, making her presence known beneath his skin, deliberately pressing it through him inch by inch and feeling heady with the precision of it, with that she can make his body do, what she can make it feel.

There’s the increased blood pressure throbbing against her pending, the quickened pulse, the blood rushing away from the heart, so like fear except for the way the blood is also flushing up his abdomen and Katara is fascinated by the way she can feel the steady spread of it before she ever sees the wash of red reach his neck and face.

There’s the blood stiffening his nipples, erectile tissue going hard just like his already-full penis, Yugoda’s voice again brisk and papery in the back of Katara’s mind, talking about arteriolar dilation and increased blood flow, about supraspinal centers and spinal reflex mechanisms and Katara wonders wildly which one is, wonders when exactly he got hard, and why, and how and—

Zuko’s blood throbs against her bending like it’s in her own veins and Yugoda’s clinical vice in memory talks through the stages of male arousal, Katara noting each one, wondering what this would feel like with her healer’s sense instead of the jagged sharpness of bloodbending but it’s impossible to do both with Zuko gasping and straining and throbbing this way, with the way she can feel his flush rising even hotter, blood rushing even lower, feel he way he swells even further, so much it has to hurt and the sound he makes says maybe it does but that he doesn’t mind, his muscles straining against her hold, a textbook case of male arousal and on a woman she’d feel—

Katara yank her bending so hard back to herself that Zuko cries out with it, his entire body arching against the hold that’s no longer there. His hips jerk against nothing, a wordless protest breaking past his lips, then another as he falls forward to catch himself on hands and knees, head bowed and body visibly clenching still, gasping almost like sobs with every breath, fingers digging into the dirt.  

“You like it,” Katara finally says, low, watching the flex of his fingers into the dirt, the humiliated hunch of his shoulders and flex of his hips. “You like not liking it,” she realizes, staring another moment and feeling the echo of his throbbing blood before suddenly whirling to stomp back to the path and the beach and Appa, trying not to listen for how long it takes Zuko to follow and forcibly shoving away the awareness of her own pulsing blood.