The Avatar of Valinor

A simple italian guy who loves Tolkien World, AtlA, Record of Lodoss War and a lot of novels and comics/manga

[mfelewzi]

Marjane Satrapi, 22/11/1969-4/6/2026.

Requiem aeternam dona ei, Domine,

et lux perpetua luceat ei.

Requiescat in pace.

Amen.

[phoebester]

And this concludes Book 4 Ash!

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Special thanks to my close moots @geothewriter @achillmango @mfelewzi @wingchunwaterbender @ap-kinda-lit @brca86 @piece-of-mind @starartist @umweiss @ly02170 @broadwaybalogna @pineapple-frenzy @arverstaegnar @anretoga @nocturnalmug @fir4-raraaamm @averybrowngirlnerd @jana-137 who have given me encouragement with their quiet support (reblogging my takes), kind words, creations, and stayed with my cray.

And to @elizzieblack who’s become my spot checker and future beta editor 🤗 looking forward to working with you on Torn Between Two Worlds.

Since this fic is done, I’m gonna be sharing the heck out of it. Its summer in the Western Hemisphere, so plenty of youngins may be interested.

If you’re new to my fics, check out my Masterlist. 👈🏽Click link

Be well.

Sincerely,

Phoebe

Btw, my id is pronounced ‘fibster.’

[theweeklydiscourse]

Zutara discourse is so funny to me because. ATLA has other hundreds of problems and outdated ideas that are brushed off in canon. From the neolib politics to the shangri-la steryotype with the air nomades and the casual misogyny in katara's arc, but somehow the not canon not real very much a concept ship is what gets people so heated up. Idk man is too mean to say that those people should get a life??

Confronting the actual problems the show has would conflict with the extremely rose-tinted view many fans have of the original show. So, focusing their energy on a non-canon ship (that, by nature, tends to be linked to criticism of the show,) is more comforting and lets them enjoy the nostalgia guilt-free.

These days, people are very defensive of stories that connect them to a happier, more uncritical time, and when you factor in the way that people intertwine their identities with these types of nostalgic media, you get a recipe for vitriol. The politics of ATLA are worthy of critique, and to avoid this uncomfortable truth, people become overly generous in their interpretations of the show’s politics and themes, and treating the white writers as if they were the second coming of Edward Said. I don’t want to stifle textual analysis, but at a certain point, fans need to accept that ATLA has not aged perfectly and that people are allowed to point that out.

There’s also the precedent of misogyny set by Bryke, and the inclination of fans towards uncritically accepting everything the creators say to maintain their idealized vision of their beloved childhood cartoon.

[phoebester]

Atla issues think piece.

[mfelewzi]

As a fan of Kataang, these critics are true.

You're right. And you people Who think these things, are more than we think.

But sadly, some fans are too exagerated, for some reasons.

Maybe because "fan" means "fanatical".

[phoebester]

Urzai week Day 3, December 10

DESIRE 🔥

****WARNING (mild) NSFW, MATURE

It was well past midnight, the guards drowsy from their shifts, when a shadowy figure slipped through the corridors. Ursa, cloaked in a simple servant's robe, her face obscured by a hood, moved with the grace of a ghost. She had bribed a guard—gold from her hidden life as an herbalist, and now she stood before the reinforced door of Ozai's cell.

The moon bled silver through the high, narrow slit of a window when Ursa stepped into Ozai’s cell. Her hood covered her hair, still black as a raven’s wing, spilled over the coarse servant’s robe she wore. The former Fire Lord looked up from his cot, amber eyes narrowing, then widening in cruel delight. Those sharp, amber eyes—gleamed with the same predatory fire as ever. He sensed her before she spoke, his lips curling into a smirk.

"Well, well," Ozai drawled, not bothering to rise. "If it isn't my dear, departed wife. Come to gloat? Or perhaps... you've missed me after all these years?"

Ursa said nothing at first. She locked the door behind her, the key cold between her fingers. Only when the bolt clicked did she speak.

Ursa lowered her hood, her dark hair cascading like a waterfall of ink. She met his gaze steadily, her expression a mask of composure. Inside, her heart thundered.

“I came to free you from this prison,” she said, voice soft as silk over steel.

She crossed the cell in three silent steps. Her hand rose—not to strike, but to cup his cheek with a tenderness that made his smirk falter for half a heartbeat. Then she kissed him.

"You're bolder than I remember," he murmured, reaching out to trace a finger along her jaw. "Or perhaps desperation has made you so."

It was not a kiss of reconciliation. It was war. Teeth and tongue and years of swallowed rage. She kissed him like she wanted to devour the arrogance straight out of his mouth. Ozai growled into it, hands clamping onto her waist hard enough to bruise, dragging her against him as though he could reclaim everything he’d lost in the crush of her body.

“You always were greedy,” he rasped against her mouth, shoving her back toward the cot.

“Greedy and weak.”

“For me.”

The robe tore beneath impatient fingers. Fabric ripped; skin met skin with the brutality they had once mistaken for passion. Ursa straddled him, nails carving half-moon crescents into his shoulders as she took what she needed—control, proximity, the perfect angle to drive her plan deeper. Ozai laughed again, breathless and drunk on the illusion that she had come to worship at his altar. He thrust up into her with punishing force, fingers twisted in her hair, forcing her head back so he could bite at the column of her throat.

“Say it,” he snarled between thrusts. “Say you never stopped wanting me.”

She let him hear what he wanted—gasps that sounded like surrender, moans that fed his ego until it blazed hotter than dragonfire. When she came, it was with her mouth sealed over his, swallowing his own ragged cry of triumph.

He thought he tasted victory; but he tasted the faint almond-sweet residue of the poison she’d painted on her lips hours earlier.

Only then did the poison begin to close his throat.

The same colorless extract she had painted thickly inside herself hours earlier-on her lips, and far deeper, now searing through his veins with every frantic heartbeat. She had turned her own body into the perfect vial. The harder and deeper he had driven into her, the more completely he had poisoned himself. The only way it could work. The single drop she had once slipped into Azulon’s soup would have never been enough for Ozai’s vigor. It demanded an equal dose.

Ozai’s eyes flew open. The laughter died mid-breath. His hands scrabbled at his neck, confusion twisting into animal panic as air turned to fire in his lungs.

“Ursa—” It was barely a wheeze.

She rose from the cot, smoothing the torn robe with deliberate calm. The flush of exertion still painted her skin, but her eyes were winter.

“I told you,” she said quietly, watching him convulse. “I came to relieve you of this prison. Permanently.”

Rumors had reached her in the quiet village where she lived alone, biding her time—whispers of the New Ozai Society, a fanatical group plotting to breach these walls, free their idol, and assassinate Fire Lord Zuko to restore the old regime. She couldn't let that happen. Not to her son. Not after everything.

Foam flecked his lips. His body arched, then collapsed, amber eyes fixed on her in final, furious accusation. Ursa leaned down, brushing a lock of sweat-damp hair from his forehead with mocking gentleness.

“The New Ozai Society will find you cold tomorrow,” she whispered. “Their revolution dies with you. Zuko lives.”

She pressed one last kiss—dry, chaste—to his forehead, tasting death on his skin, then pulled her hood up and vanished into the corridor like smoke.

Nine months later, in a small, unmarked house on the outskirts of Hira’a, Ursa gave birth alone.

The midwife had been paid well to ask no questions and remember nothing. When the child finally slid free into the world with a thin, fierce cry, Ursa gathered her close and studied the tiny face: dark hair, a mouth that would one day learn to sneer or smile—she wasn’t sure which terrified her more—and eyes the exact searing gold of the man now rotting in an unmarked grave beneath the prison.

She named their daughter Kiyi.

Some nights she tells herself the child was hers alone—conceived in deception, born of necessity.

Kiyi cooed softly, her tiny fist clenching Ursa's finger. Outside, the world moved on, the Fire Nation healing under Zuko's rule. The New Ozai Society had fractured, their plot exposed in the wake of Ozai's "mysterious" death. Rumors swirled—of poison, of ghosts—but none pointed to the banished princess.

Ursa hummed a lullaby, the same one she'd sung to Zuko and Azula long ago. Desire had driven her to the prison that night, not for Ozai's touch, but for her son's future. And in the cradle of consequence, life bloomed anew.

In the capital, Zuko sat on his throne, oblivious to the sacrifice. Reports of his father's death had brought a grim closure, no autopsy revealing the truth. He focused on rebuilding, on alliances with the Avatar. But sometimes, in quiet moments, he dreamed of his mother, a guardian spirit watching from afar.

Ursa rocked the baby, her heart a tangle of love and regret. Desire was a double-edged sword: it had freed her from fear, but bound her to this hidden truth.

And so, in the shadow of what was, Ursa embraced what could be. The night of desire faded into memory, leaving only the cry of a child to fill the void.

Soon everything will be revealed to those that matter.

But for now, blood remembers.

And desire, Ursa learned, was the most patient poison of all.

—-###——-###——###——-####——-

There is no Ikem in Ba Sing Se

Kiyi is Ozai’s

That’s it.

That’s the post.

That’s my contribution to Urzai Week.

@urzaiweekblog @urzaiweek

Btw this whole thing?? Surprise spoiler for my ridiculously ambitious project-Legacy of the Six ♡

It’s still super early in development (I’m literally building this universe from scratch, pray for me)

Book 4: Ash is the current wip that’s eating my soul alive rn

Drop your screams/theories/threats in the ao3 comments or right here, I read everything and will probably cry happy tears 🫶

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[mfelewzi]

Well, the most useless character invented doesn't exist. A radical choice? Maybe. Legitimate? A bit.

And man, Kiyi continues to exist, but not like the "Perfect Little Sister for Zuzu, as a substitution of the other one".

I accept all these choices.

And for a Perfect Reason...

Urzai was Canon!

Before Konietzko and Di Martino choosed differently because they wanted to appear COMPLEX.

And It's come back.

[avatar-legends-confessionblog]

People will (rightfully) clown on Azula stans who act like she never did anything wrong and every one of her bad actions is secretly someone else's fault... But like does no one care that that is exactly what they're doing with Mai in the comics? Acting like all of her bad actions are Azula's/Ukano's fault. Acting like Mai didn't follow Azula willingly or ever cared about her brother. And while Mai's father is demonised her mother is a saint for some reason?! You know, they could have written complex relationships between Mai and Azula, Mai and her parents, show us how Mai warmed up to her brother, how Mai unlearned Fire Nation imperialism... But that would require effort and why have that when everyone can be a generic good guy or a bad guy?

There is no Return to Omashu in Ba Sing Se.

X

[frellingstarburst]

I start to think they do that purposefully. Confuse her with certain other.

[mfelewzi]

I hate to speak about political subjects, or politicals.

Perché la politica è schifosa, e fa male alla pelle!

Giorgio Gaber

But if we try to see what happened out screen, well, everything is possible.

And we can understand by the context and other details.

And as a supporter of antimperialism, I think that considering a teenager guilty of the same crimes of a brigade of soldiers Who killed many civilians, whatever if It's part of a regular army of some terrorist groups considering themselves "defence" or "resistence", It's a bad thing, mate.

Very, very bad.

And you know, a thing is making fanfictions, another is creating hypothesises, considering these true.

[margueritedaisies]

Writers knew theyd have too much swag if they linked up thats why they had to slime Jet before making them meet

Wah wdym, Jet survived ok? He faked his death and decided to be fugitives with Azula and travel across Earth Kingdom silk road

Posted these on my twitter

Nobody gaf there😭

[mfelewzi]

Some people in twitter have the fantasy adlnd the imagination of a table.

I love it! And man, you're wonderful. I only use pencil.

[margueritedaisies]

Me when i make Avatar ships

Listen tho...Jet x Azula

When i say enemies to lovers

And reluctant forced proximity travel partners

With constant traitoring

I think of them

Girl i been in the trenches

Yknow how hard i got to find a Tigress x Tai Lung saga fanfic with the same plot?

I appreciate emotionally repressed martial arts drama.

Its like Princess Bride

Except the chick is equally competent and the guy doesnt have to go "as you wish"

They more like "yeah yeah run off, be like that, as if youd survive out there alone"

Abd later on after a tiff both go back to each other anyway and are like "I... miscalculated"

And maybe Jet throwing a skewer and Azula catching it cuz she cane back with no luck hunting for any animal that night

Even if she refused to help him put up a fire hours ago he gave her some food anyway

Idk a revolutionary boy and a military weapon for a princess would go hard

Think of the political tension of these two with their internal views

propaganda

child soldiers

emotional repression

loyalty versus survival

people weaponized by ideology

Come to think of it

Post Canon Azula was put in an asylum in the worst conditions after Zuko became Fire Lord right?

The comics had Zuko set her free

Only for the purpose to find their lost mothe

And reconnect with her

He was still watchinh after her

But man Zuko was so unnecessarily putting up airs again

He showed in a throne , he brought the throne to the asylum courtyard

With Azula in the worst state atm

Straitjacketed, qi blocked for so many times to not make her use her powers

Zuko even talkrd about their mother by referring her as "My mother" not "Our mother"

He didnt consider Azula as his family anymore

If I was Azula and my remaining family just left me in an asylum with no visits then show up like that i would definitely think Zuko disowned me already

At this point Azula really dod make sense for being hyper independent

Nobody was protecting her in this family

There's part about the comics the demons in an enchanted dungeon wete making her recognize how she hurt people and thats the reason she's alone. The last demon being Zuko telling her that. She still caree what he thinks

And when the dungeon master demon asked her if she was willing to change and redeem

She refused it

And became a fugitive

Never went back, traveled far away from the Fire Nation where they cant find her

Also i think i remember she made an illegal faction of her own that consist of girls in the orphan academy. Because they felt oppressed in the academy with how limited they are in the system.

She gathered them up to kidnap fire nation children in some villages and create a ransom coup

Bro that's within Jet's skillset

He also works within militant groups

And the way Azula is now very disillusioned with fire nation royal authority makes her dangerous without guidance and with terrifying conviction

And gets things done herself

This is the girl that successfully conquered Ba Sing Se from within at 14. While generations of her family couldnt

Jet finds those traits admirable. But the source of her drive is what sets him off. Shes not completely free and is still operating on her Fire Nation conditioning. Shes not doing this for her freedom but oppress the system back that failed her

Revolutionary extremist boy meets former imperial weapon girl.

unlike a lot of “enemies to lovers” ships where one person is clearly morally softer, this one feels like two dangerous teenagers who recognize themselves in each other before they even trust each other.

Jet would absolutely clock that Azula is:

hypervigilant,

constantly performing control,

incapable of relaxing,

and emotionally starving beneath all the precision.

But he’d hate that he notices.

Because to him she still represents:

occupation,

imperial violence,

propaganda,

children dying because of Fire Nation campaigns.

Meanwhile Azula would initially see Jet as exactly the kind of filthy rebel the palace warned her about:

emotionally impulsive,

self-righteous,

manipulative,

theatrically angry,

operating through guerilla tactics instead of “proper” authority.

But the problem is… she’d also respect him almost immediately.

Jet is one of the few non-benders in ATLA who:

creates networks,

leads people naturally,

weaponizes charisma,

survives through adaptability,

and commits fully to ideology.

Azula respects competency before morality.

And Jet respects conviction before morality.

That’s why the chemistry works.

The “forced travel partners” angle especially fits them because neither would become emotionally vulnerable through softness first. They’d do it through competence and repeated survival.

Like:

taking turns keeping watch,

silently noticing injuries,

arguing over strategy maps,

one saving the other in combat then pretending it meant nothing,

sharing stolen food without acknowledgment,

threatening each other during emotional moments because sincerity feels too exposing.

The skewer scene you described is EXACTLY their vibe.

Not: “I care about you.”

But: “You’re inefficient hungry.”

And that’s basically intimacy for them.

Also my observation about post-canon Azula is important because a lot of people flatten her into “crazy evil girl,” when the comics actually frame her as someone whose entire identity collapsed after losing the one structure she understood.

What makes Azula tragic is that she was never taught personhood outside functionality.

She was:

a weapon,

an heir,

a prodigy,

a political asset.

Not a child.

So when she loses status, she doesn’t suddenly become free. She becomes untethered.

That’s terrifying.

Jet, meanwhile, is someone who built identity entirely through resistance. He survives by opposing structures.

So imagine the tension:

Jet thinks Azula still carries imperial poison in her worldview.

Azula thinks Jet is directionless chaos pretending to be righteous.

And both are partially correct.

That’s the kind of ideological romance that actually has weight.

Also: the “traitoring each other constantly” thing is crucial because neither of them would trust stability.

Their affection would probably manifest through:

strategic honesty,

returning after leaving,

choosing not to betray each other when it would be advantageous,

staying during vulnerability instead of fleeing.

Not through clean romance language.

The fact that Azula later forms militant girl factions and kidnaps noble children absolutely pushes her closer to Jet territory than people realize.

Not morally identical — but operationally similar.

Cells. Fear tactics. Symbolic violence. Recruitment through disenfranchisement. Targeting systems through psychological pressure.

Jet would look at her methods and go: “You think like an insurgent.”

And she’d probably smirk because that’s the first thing anyone’s said to her that wasn’t:

monster,

princess,

prodigy,

failure,

insane.

The funniest part is they’d probably spend half the story threatening to leave each other and then quietly circling back because nobody else can intellectually keep up with them.

Emotionally repressed martial arts drama really is the perfect description for this ship

Both driven by a solidly competent and equally scary teenage male and female lead

Might i interest you with Azula demanding Jet to get his shirt off to test her blue fire to seal a torso wound

Azula: i never done this but ive seen enough recruits do it as immediate aide

Jet: Im bleeding out im sure that tactician brain of yours is a visual learner

Azula:

"Take your shirt off."

Jet: 😃🤨

Jet grinning in the middle of pain:

"You say that to all fugitives?"

Azula gnashing her teeth annoyed then says:

"If you flirt while I cauterize you, I’ll let the infection kill you."

Yes blue fire will hurt even if its meant to heal it

So we get a sweaty pained Jet for fanservice

Azula once shes done: hows that soldier?

Jet sweating temple breathless from straining himself keeping still throughout looking up hair stickinb to his temples: Im good

Azula unfazed gets up from her kneeling position and pats his arm walking off

Jet slowly getting up thinkin "that was kinda hot"

Azula looks like she casually walking off

But really she just needs a moment, huffing and keeping her bearings. She looks like shes contemplating and strategizing or just her perpetually irascible self. But the cheeks are pink shes just standing, hands on hips. Blowing her bangs off her face

Blinking rapidly

Still a princess whos only male interaction is Zuko, their military and their father. Possibly never even touched on the prospect of dating despite how much suitors she has and never ever read any bridal or courting manuals

For once Azula internally think "how does Mai who dates my brother or Ty Lee who likes every guy that walks in front of her handle that? How do they enjoy these frivolous parts of girlhood?"

This is the girl who hated the doll she was gifted anf burnt it

This is the girl who had a present but emotionally distant mother

She didnt just reject femininity

She rejected tenderness

She never liked a nurturing role for herself

Because her mother was never nurturing to her

Jet is not courtly.

He’s rough-edged. Direct. Emotionally reactive. Physically expressive. Improvisational.

He’s probably the opposite of every carefully controlled Fire Nation noble boy she’s ever been exposed to.

And importantly: Jet is observant in a predatory-survivor way.

He notices people’s weak points because he had to survive occupation and manipulation himself.

So he’d absolutely pick up on things nobody in the palace ever acknowledged:

Azula doesn’t know how to rest.

She expects betrayal before kindness.

She interprets vulnerability as loss of leverage.

She becomes angrier the more emotionally cornered she feels.

And the funny thing is he probably wouldn’t realize he’s treating her more gently than anyone else has.

Not softly. Just… honestly.

Like instead of walking on eggshells around the Fire Princess, he’d snap back at her.

Tbh both can psychologically and emotionally hold their own against other

Also I think Jet would mention how he had a run in with Zuko at Ba Sing Se teahouse to Azula

And how Jet figured Zuko out so easily

Azula: Hah typical Zuzu, did give him a hard time?

Jet: really though how is he your brother at all? He just went in with my script easily hook line and sinker. I didnt even need to have backup lines. He takes too long to answer and does something dramatic but falls for my words anyway.

Azula: I lie to him alot back at the palace, he falls for them all the time

Jet: good double sword wielder tho. Guy got me good

Azula: you lost to Zuzu in sword combat??

If these two dated

Zuko will pay the price "there's two tormentors in the family now"

Azula to Zuko: "I date Jet because he pisses you off too."

Zuko: he threatened me with hook swords!!

Azula: i dont see the problem

Zuko: i thought you hated class difference in a relationship

Azula: I know hes poor as a street rat but hes very compelling . Remember brother Im a runaway princess, i got demoted years ago. I'm done with Fire Nation aristocracy life. I can make a sovereign on my own watch me.

Jet coughing in anarchist

Azula: I meant haha i would if i want to. Except i dont

Iroh: how's life with him niece?

Azula: oh nothing big old man, just living with his freedom fighters, helping out and trusting me with some projects and facilitation.

And riding horses in the planes of the Earth kingdom

Camping in yurts

Iroh: separate horses and yurts???

Azula: ...yyyes🙂

Iroh: “Ah. I see.”

sips tea

Azula: “There is nothing to see.”

Iroh: “Of course.”

Azula: “…We simply travel together because the Earth Kingdom terrain is dangerous.”

Iroh: “Naturally.”

Azula:

“And because he knows insurgent routes and local villages.”

Iroh: “Mm.”

Azula:

“And because our skillsets are strategically complementary.”

Iroh:

“Niece.”

Azula:

“…What.”

Iroh:

“You are explaining this as though you are filing military paperwork.”

Iroh definitely glares at Jet after Azula head out

"Dont worry sir, im in good hands. And yeah she looks amazing riding the horse with her hair down"

That awakens warlord Iroh for a sec and he pistols a tiny flame and Jet deflects it with his hook sword and it ricocheted to a poor tree

Jet: you do this to every guy she talks to?

Iroh: hmph only the alarming ones

Youre lucky the flame wasnt hot enough to melt that sword of yours.

If Zuko was here he wouldve doubled the size of that shot

Honestly? Iroh probably respects him a little for deflecting it.

Because Jet:

didn’t flinch,

didn’t grovel,

protected himself without escalating,

and clearly cares about Azula enough to stay despite knowing exactly how dangerous she is

Iroh: doesnt mean hes immediately son in law. He wishes

Once they got out

Azula: hows uncle?did he scare you off?

Jet: Not at all

Azulas eyes narrowed from the disrespect on her uncles behalf despite how much she disrespect the old man

Like " this mutt thinks he could casually say that about Iroh"

Because Jet doesn't see Iroh as a legend, a general with accolades and reputation. He sees him as a nother dangerous old guy

Irreverent

[phoebester]

Snack Breaks

An @atlararepairmonth event prompt

A gift to @mfelewzi @muiltifandomnerd @margueritedaisies

*Trigger warning *mild nsfw *minors dni

The lowest floor of Ba Sing Se University Library feels more like a crypt in the late afternoon. Shelves stretch up like silent monoliths, their spines exhaling the faint scent of aging paper and dust. Every now and then a lone chair sighs under its own weight, a protest that no one has ever bothered to silence. Most students have already slipped out to the bustling campus cafés or retreated to their dorm rooms for a break, leaving only the truly desperate, or perhaps the masochistic—still hunched over their textbooks

Jet hunches over a study desk in the back corner, hoodie up, scribbling angry marginalia in a battered copy of *The Earth Kingdom Economic Myth*. He despises this place. Despises the marble floors paid for by corporate donors, despises the way the endowment was bigger than some small towns' GDPs, and despises that he’s here on a need‑based scholarship, not out of ambition but to prove that the system can be gamed from the inside.

He especially despises Azula.

She slides into the room like she always does—without warning, like smoke slipping under a door. A designer coat drapes over one arm, hair pulled into that impossibly sleek topknot, her lips in the exact shade of arterial red that makes Jet's jaw clench on reflex. With deliberate force, she hurls her leather satchel onto the table across from him.

"You're in my spot," she says, voice sharp enough to cut.

"This isn't assigned seating, princess." Jet replies in disdain as he looks up at her. "Go buy another floor if you want privacy."

Azula slides into the chair anyway, crossing her legs like she owned the entire wing. "I don't buy things I can easily take."

He snorts. "Classic nepo logic." 👇🏽

They've been circling each other for months—debate club ambushes, stolen library cubicles, hissing arguments in seminar hallways about privilege and praxis and whether the Dai Li endowment was blood money (it was). She calls him a bleeding heart hypocrite. He calls her a trust-fund tyrant. Neither backs down.

But this time it’s different.

It started with an argument about land reform a few days ago. But somewhere between Jet snarling about expropriation and Azula countering with razor-sharp statistics on agricultural output, their voices drop. Heads bent closer over the shared table. Her perfume—something expensive and smoky—slid into his space. When they were forced to collaborate on a project, his knee accidentally brushed hers under the table. She didn’t budge, their discussion faded into a reluctant, wordless partnership.

Now, the silence stretches.

"You talk a lot about tearing it all down," Azula murmurs, eyes flicking to his mouth, "but here you are using a laptop granted to you by the same corporation you loathe, sipping your oatmilk latte from the coffee conglomerate instead of buying one from the school cafeteria. Tell me, how does your hypocrisy taste?”

He smirks at her and looks her up and down. “Why are you here? Seriously. Why the need to slum it out with me at this very moment instead of, I dont know, yachting with daddy's board members kids? You told me more than once you don’t need this pathetic school, remember? Or maybe it’s easier for you to just pay your way through graduation?”Jet's voice comes out rougher than he meant.

She leans in until their faces were inches apart. "Maybe I just like… watching you squirm."

Maybe he likes it too.

"If you hate me that much why are you still here?” He adds with a knowing smile.

They don’t know who moved first—probably both, too proud to concede. Her hands tighten around the strings of his hoodie. His fingers slip around the nape of her neck. Mouths crashing together like a fuse finally catching fire.

The moment feels chaotic. Hungry. All teeth and swallowed arguments. Azula tastes like black coffee and spite; Jet kisses like he’s trying to prove a point. Her nails scrape lightly down his chest through cotton. He groans low in his throat, dragging her closer until she half-straddles his lap in the narrow library chair.

The table creaks. A book topples off the edge with a soft *thud*. Neither cared.

Jet's fingers slip under the hem of her silk blouse, finds warm skin, traces the dip of her spine. Azula arches into the touch, biting his lower lip hard enough to sting. "Careful, freedom fighter," she breathes against his mouth. "You might start liking the enemy."

"Shut up," he growls smirking, "and maybe I will." And he kissed her harder.

Her hand slides down, palming him through his jeans. Jet jerks, she laughs—soft and dangerous—then rocks forward, grinding slow and every deliberate inch of friction until his head tips back with a choked curse, his grip on her hips turns bruising.

“Still think you’re winning?” she breathes against his jaw, voice smug.

Jet’s laughs, dark and breathless. “I’m not the one shaking.”

Azula’s hand tightens in his hair, yanks his head back to crash her mouth on his neck. All tongue and teeth and breath now, desperate, tasting like the edge of something neither of them could name.

Jet breaks it first, holding her face against his, just enough to rasp against her lips, “Say it.”

Her gold eyes locks on his, pupils blown, lips swollen and red. “You’re mine to break,” she hisses at him smiling, then kissed him again like she means to prove it.

They’re losing it. Right there. Between dusty stacks and fluorescent lights. Jet doesn’t care. He wants more—wants to flip her onto the table, wants to hear her say his name like a curse, wants—

Footsteps.

Slow. Measured. The unmistakable squeak of sensible orthopedic shoes against marble.

Azula freezes first, head snapping toward the sound even as Jet keeps kissing the side of her neck—relentless, oblivious, lips dragging hot and open over her pulse.

Madam librarian—Ms. Ping, terror of the third floor, enforcer of the two-book-limit and nemesis of anyone under twenty-five—rounds the end of the aisle, nose already already buried in her inventory tablet.

Azula yanks back so fast she nearly topples the chair. Jet’s hands shoot up like he’s been electrocuted, palms out in universal surrender. His hoodie rucks halfway up his stomach. Azula’s lipstick smears across his mouth, his chin, his neck. They look exactly like what they are: two idiots about to be banned for life.

Ms. Ping pauses ten feet away. Doesn’t look up yet.

Azula smoothes her blouse with calm fingers that betray nothing. Jet drags his fingers across his hair, and pulls his sweats down, heart slamming so loud he’s sure the librarian could hear it.

The older woman finally lifts her gaze. Eyes narrow behind thick glasses.

“Snack break is over,” she says flatly. Her eyes linger on Jet’s face, sees red lipstick streaks on his face and knows what’s up, then slides to Azula, then back again. A long, weary sigh escapes her. “And if I see one more crumpled energy bar wrapper—or any other… evidence—on my tables, you’re both writing apologies to the preservation committee. In triplicate!”

Neither Jet nor Azula move for a full ten seconds.

Miss Ping shakes her head once, muttering under her breath, “Irresponsible youth these days…” before turning sharply and walking away.

Then Azula exhales, slow and shaky. She looks at him and something flickers in her gold eyes that isn’t just heat. Confusion, maybe. Want. The same thing twisting hard in Jet's chest.

He licks his lower lip, tasting the last trace of her lipstick, voice a wreck. "We should... probably not do that again."

Azula arches one perfect brow. "Agreed." But her eyes twinkle, dark and suggestive.

She fixes her hair, gathers her expensive coat and satchel without breaking eye contact, composure snapping back into place like armor.

Jet’s head tips back against the wall, breathing hard, still tasting her—coffee, spite, and something dangerously sweet on his tongue. Wondering how the hell hating someone could start to feel so much like falling.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, sees the smear of red lipstick across his knuckles, smiles—and leaves it there on purpose.

They stare at each other for a beat, then she turns and walks away, as if nothing happened at all.

“So…” His voice comes out rough, smug. “See you on the next snack break?”

Azula pauses mid-stride, halfway to the aisle. She turns just enough to look at him. Eyes dragging from his mussed hair down to the rumpled hoodie, then back to the blatant lipstick stains painting his mouth and chin like war paint he refuses to clean off.

She arches one perfect brow.

“You wish…”

“I’ll be at the—uh…” He clears his throat, voice dropping low. “The old periodicals section.” He nods vaguely toward the shadowed aisles. “Nobody goes there. Dusty as hell. Maybe convince me more about how trickle-down economy actually works?”

Azula’s golden eyes narrowing just a fraction—smirks, then turns without a word and continues walking, fancy boots clicking sharp against the marble until the heavy door clicks shut behind her.

@atlararepairmonth

***End Notes

Obviously for this prompt, Jet and Azula are each other’s ‘snacks’. 🤭✌🏽

For some reason Jet, even in canon reminds me of Han Solo. So I kinda channeled his persona to this modern atla jetzula oneshot (And the jetzula fic I’m currently working on, The Long Way Back)

I just realized… Han Solo did fall for a ‘princess’ Leia!!! ♥️

[greenst2r]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Slight spoilers for chap 2 of the fic ahead (↓)

Not my work!! Just fanart. One of my most favorite fanfics that I actually had the balls to finally draw! If you haven’t read this yet you absolutely should! I will say my interpretation of Azula and Aang is a bit more heated than it comes off in the fic lol.

Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aang/Azula (Avatar) Characters: Azula, Aang (Avatar), Zuko (Avatar), Mai (Avatar), Ty Lee (Avatar), Iroh (Avatar), Katara (Avatar), Suki, Sokka Additional Tags: aang/azula if you squint, meandering nonsense, Complicated Female Friendships, Show Canon Compliant

[mfelewzi]

Well.

Good Lord, what a comic!

Yes, some elements needs corrections, like anatomy, poses and other things, but for your first work...

INCREDIBLE!

[annatars-nine-rings]

Hey Silmarillion fandom, anyone still active around here? :)

[mfelewzi]

Well, I Will go to sleep, cause here is 23:13.

Good night to everyone.

[browseret]

@atlararepairmonth week 4: Royal Pains

Those are sharp, Jet. Careful.

Jet's finally got his in into the Forbidden City, but the more he learns about the leader of the Kyoshi Warriors the less adds up. He's looked into the mirror often enough to recognize a liar. Moreover, this "Suki" reminds Jet of someone else... Gaining the ear of the Earth King, or rather: the true power behind the throne, is slow-going. In the meantime, Azula's got her on a rebel from the Lower Ring. Resistance Leaders are quite pesky she knows going over occupation reports. Azula could have gotten rid of him a long time ago, but chances are a new head would simply replace his. Why not keep this much more handsome one, turn him into her inside man and destroy future resistance from the inside? Seducing the other to gain leverage or intel. Everyone knows that love is for fools.

Whoever first came up with Jetzula deserves the nobel prize for literature. Truth be to told i find it hard not to imagine Azula running circles around Jet, but maybe she found some convoluted reason to keep him alive, or maybe they meet post-finale with Jet a little more experienced and Azula a little more off her step.

[charlottebaskerville]

Yk there are a lot of fandoms with serious issues regarding ships and different opinions but atla is the absolute worst ive ever seen and im 100% positive its because of bryke. I have never seen any other showrunners have so little class when it comes to fanon content. They are the problem

[mfelewzi]

Sadly, they consider themselves like two authors Who could do whatever they want with their work, and fans and audience have only to accept it. Or going away.

A understandable philosofy, very old school and supported by the majority of authors of these years, but It isn't the best in the world. Especially in these times.

And with a franchise that had a lot of other people Who worked in it, since the beginning.

And we can see it, cause AtlA was slowly changed from a Epic Fantasy Saga to a Superheroistic Series, and It's becoming a Sci-Fi Cyberpunk show, as It's happening with the sequel "Seven Havens".

Because they wanted a Sci-Fi show, a Space Opera with many references to Star Wars, Ghost in the Shell, Cowboy Bebop, and others. But Nickelodeon and other storytellers told them It wasn't a Good idea at that time, so It was changed in a Epic Fantasy.

That's why they changed a lot of things, destroying the old lore and making a lot of retcons. And they will continue, until they will have the show they wanted.

And even if I don't like these choices, I'm understanding, at the beginning of my 30's, that I can't hate them for these stupid choices.

And they will never understand this, and so their sycophants inside this fandom.

So, ok being critical, I'm the first to be it, but a bit of mercy for them.

[bulme]

Favorite Minor Character

Princess Yue

“It gave me life. Maybe I can give it back.”

[phoebester]

Thank you @katarithekat for the tag

Last song; Gosh… something 80s in my playlist lol

Favorite color; Orange

Currently watching; Enola Holmes (obsessed with the chemistry of Enola and Lord Tewkesbury ❤️), Carmen San Diego etl with Graham lol, MLB (previously)

Currently reading; fanfics old and new

Current obsession; writing atla fanfics

Working on; Multiverse fic plots for my atla fanfic 👇🏽

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Last search; ‘life-changing adventure’ 😂

Current desktop picture 👇🏽

(Art by taratja on ig 👈🏽click link)

tagging: @wingchunwaterbender @metaorigin @omegansamurai @nocturnalmug @piece-of-mined @caettey @anretoga @ly02170 @mfelewzi @brca86 @geothewriter @achillmango open tags!

[mfelewzi]

I have to reblog it.

Cause interesting AUs need support.

Especially after boring stories like the comics and the movie.

Thank you @phoebester

Last Song: In Numa's time, by Farya Faraji

Favorite color: Red

Currently watching: Goblin Slayer, My Hero Academia, Age of Empires II cutscenes

Currently reading: Iliad by Homer, Dialogue with the emir Abd al-Rahmān al-Hāshimī by Ibrāhīm al-Tabarānī, too much fanfictions by to much people, Conan the Barbarian novels (by Robert E. Howard) and comics (by too much people) and Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind by Hayao Miyazaki.

Current obsession: drawing comics and trying by to write an AtlA fanfiction;

Working on: a pilot for a long fanfiction, the real one and a series of comic;

Last search: Tzar the burden of the Crown;

Current desktop:

I'm a great fan of Fantasy Genre. It was a official illustrations of the anime OVAs Record of Lodoss War, One of my favorites.

tagging: @camcat1320 , @stardust948 , @akiizayoi4869 , @basementnoodles , @erinoma9 @balanceoflightanddark , @nargg1 , open tags!

[cattoonxd]

Child of war

[charlottebaskerville]

"He gave up the avatar state for her!!!" And i unironically cannot name a better way to piss katara off. Imagine your buddy gives up his ability to end a war thats lasted 100 years and ravaged your homeland, all because he wants to kiss you, and you aren't even sure if you return the sentiment. All of your and the whole world's hopes are riding on him and he just doesnt give a shit. Id kick his ass so hard

[mfelewzi]

Well, as a fan of Kataang...

You're right.

Sadly, the same Konietzko and Di Martino think It's a bad things that somebody should leave what they crave and care for the great good.

Yes, It's a selfish philosofy.