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Rewrites this summer 😊

Is over the top Zutara nonsense with almost no self-awareness your thing? Look no further than Chapter 17 of The Canon of Kinder Spirits👆👆

(They kiss in this chapter, you guys!)

* little witty comment that hopefully gets you to click the link*

Does anyone want to try my fic?

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Is it perfect? No.

Is it finished? Also, no.

Do you go back from time to time and cringe at your own writing? Absolutely!

…

Anyway, here it is.

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Zutarians, I need some help...

Happy Zutara week, y’all! I’m Lil.

I’ve been working on my fic for...awhile now, and I’m at the point where everything’s kind of turned into word salad. I’d like to finish this thing, soon, but I need editors - badly. So, if you’re one of those folks who can write. (And particularly if you can write Katara or Zuko’s voice really well.) Please, please take a look. Friendly feedback is welcome!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25653406/chapters/62276836

And here’s an excerpt from a Zutara moment below the cut:

Katara looks out from high up in the north wing of the palace—reserved especially for the royal family and their guests. She can see across acres of bleak concrete pavement leading up to the palace gates and, behind them, the jagged volcano walls of the capital city rising in the distance. It isn’t a particularly comforting sight.

Fifty-six bacui berry, fifty-seven bacui berry, …she counts to herself. Until, finally, she reaches one hundred bacui berry, and turns away from the gray window, back towards Azula’s wide canopy bed. The princess’s mouth hangs open and a trickle of drool spills out, but otherwise, she looks better than she had an hour ago. Katara removes the last acupuncture needle from her wrist and places it onto a gauze pad, which she rolls up and hands to Zuko.

“These need to be sterilized in a white-hot flame for twenty minutes before they can be used again,” she instructs.

Zuko puts a hand up to the bundle. A flame appears at the center of his palm. “Do you want me to just—?”

“Sorry Zuko, but you’re not hot enough,” she says, without thinking.

The corners of his mouth flicker upward into the kind of smirk she hasn’t seen since his ponytail days.  Spirits, he’s infuriating, she thinks—grateful that her skin is dark enough to hide a blush. She removes the rest of her supplies from Azula’s bedside and takes a seat by the window, trying to ignore the burning sensation of Zuko’s eyes lingering on the back of her neck. She forces herself to concentrate on the little vials and instruments in her hand, but it’s no good. Everything is in the wrong place. She’ll have to take it all out again and repack it later.

“Katara,” he says, coming up beside her at the window. “Did you ever read Love Amongst the Dragons?”

Katara shoots him a wry smile. “No,” she says. “Funnily enough, we didn’t have a lot of fire nation epics in our village library.”

“Azula made fun of me, but I always liked it.” He smiles a little to himself, then points, drawing Katara’s attention to a spot on the grim horizon. “Do you see that mountain, there? The one that curves?”

Katara shivers, drawing a little closer to Zuko. “The one that looks like a claw?” she asks.

He nods. “I know, it’s scary, isn’t it? If you believe the old story, it’s the claw of the great dragon, himself. It’s where the name of the district comes from — Kaa Garr. Great Dragon. And, right there where the mountain turns in on itself…” he moves his finger up the pane a little so Katara can see a black spot in the distance, “is the prison where I’m keeping my father.”

Katara lets out a little involuntary gasp and presses her fingers to her mouth. Zuko looks down at her, a wry glint in his eye. “If you thought my sister’s arrangements were bad,” he says, “you should see his.”

“I’m sorry,” is all she can think to say.

“Don’t be,” he shrugs. “You know my father isn’t exactly a nice guy. I didn’t get this scar on my face from a training accident, you know?”

“I know,” Katara says, reaching up to touch the edges of his burned skin with the practiced hands of a healer.

In truth, they had never really talked about how he’d gotten his scar, but Katara had heard rumors going all the way back to her time in the Fire Nation with Toph, Sokka, and Aang. Zuko allows her fingers to wander over his scar for a moment, tracing the lines and folds on the puckered skin. He gets lost for a minute in the phantom sensation—wondering if he’s only imagining the gentle pressure. It’s so tender and intimate that his breath catches in his chest for fear that a sharp exhale might disturb the delicate balance between them. But then Azula flops over in bed, bringing Zuko back to himself. He clears his throat, and Katara’s hand drops to her side.

“It just makes me wonder if I should be trying to help my father…you know…the way you’re helping Azula.”

Katara tries not to let her emotions show on her face. She does not believe for one second that Ozai is entitled to the same treatment as his daughter, but she also believes that, ultimately, the decision is Zuko’s to make.

“Do you think your father deserves a second chance?” She asks, trying to keep her voice even.

“No!” he shouts, raking his fingers through his hair in frustration. “That’s the problem, I don’t think he deserves it! But I can’t figure out why. I mean, he not that different from my sister, is he? But, every day, I felt guilty about Azula, and every day I’m grateful that my father is still locked up!”

Katara watches as Zuko paces back and forth across the antique carpet, winding himself up. “Then you came, and I feel better about Azula—I really do, Katara—but now I’m suddenly guilty about my father. I’m the fire lord, shouldn’t I at least be fair?”

“Zuko,” Katara says, holding out an arm to stop his pacing, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but when was the last time you had a bath? Or slept in a real bed?”

He blinks down at her, “Uh, it might have been a few days. Why?”

“I think,” she says, using her most soothing voice, “that all these big questions can wait for a day or two while you rest.”

He looks skeptical, but Katara insists: “Look at you, Zuko, you’re exhausted. I’m not saying that it won’t be difficult, but I promise it will all seem better in the m-morning.” As she says it, she stifles a yawn, and Katara suddenly realizes that she, too, is exhausted.

Noticing this, Zuko takes the medicine bag from her hand and, after checking all of Azula’s locks, leads her down the hall to her room. It’s hard to tell with Zuko, but he seems excited about something. The corners of his mouth keep twitching up, like he’s trying to hide a smile. The whole of the third-floor hallway smells like fresh paint, even though the hallways look the same as they’ve always been. It makes Katara’s head swim. When they arrive at what she assumes will be her bedroom here in the Fire Nation, Zuko throws open the door for her, and Katara gasps.

The room is in the style of the Fire Nation—a wooden chest for clothes, a low-slung writing table, and an imposing four poster bed, but the details are all Water Tribe. The walls are covered with bright blue paper depicting life in the poles. The furniture handles are all solid, gleaming mother of pearl. The bed is strewn with gigantic, fluffy pelts that could only have come from the south pole.

“What do you think?” Zuko asks, studying her face. “Is it too much? I had rooms made up for the Earth Kingdom and the Air Nation, too. I don’t want you to think I’m abusing your culture, but I do want my guests to feel welcome here. I know the Fire Nation royal palace isn’t anybody’s favorite place.” He winces, thinking about the terrible stain of his father’s legacy.

Katara considers Zuko kindly. He’s hovering just outside the room—neither in nor out. She realizes that she’s never felt more warmly towards the young fire lord.

“You’re a lot like your uncle, you know that?” she says, after a minute.

Katara watches as his guarded features break into a genuine smile. “Thanks,” he says, running his fingers along the edge of the doorframe. “You know I was hoping you or your brother would be the first ones to use this room.”

“You’re lucky it’s me! Sokka would be jumping on the bed, already.”

Zuko laughs, and Katara grins with pride. It’s not easy making Zuko laugh.

“I didn’t even ask!” He says, eagerly. “How is Sokka? And Aang?”

Now it’s Katara’s turn to look guarded. “Sokka’s fine,” she says, trying to keep her voice neutral. “He’s angry because he can’t go to Ba Sing Se without Appa…” Then, anticipating Zuko’s next question, Katara explains everything in a rush: “Aang left for Omashu. He got a letter from Bumi saying that the city was unstable, and he left me and Sokka behind.”

Zuko’s reaction is not what Katara expects. His eyebrow furrows, and he lets out a troubled groan, so sharp and low that Katara can almost feel the reverberations in his chest. “Katara…Bumi is dead. He died about a week ago. Didn’t Aang tell you?”

“Oh,” is all Katara can manage. She plops herself down at the end of the bed and looks up at Zuko, dazed. “No, Aang hasn’t written to me since he left for Omashu.” The admission earns her a sharp sideways glance, but she doesn’t notice. She’s too wrapped up in thoughts of the Earth King.

“What happened?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” he admits, lowering himself down beside her on the bed. “The Fire Nation has…informants…in Omashu, but I haven’t heard from them in a few days.” The way he hesitates before the word ‘informants’ makes Katara wonder if he is uncomfortable having spies in the Earth Kingdom. Zuko had always preferred fair-play and transparency, even at his own expense.

“But you have suspicions,” she presses him.

He nods. “To tell you the truth, I’m glad Sokka’s not in Ba Sing Se right now.”

“Why not?” Katara gasps, “It’s not unstable, too, is it?”

“No,” he says, resting his head against the bedpost and letting his eyelids droop. “At least none of my advisors seem to think it is. I’m the one who has an issue. And it’s only a feeling, Katara…”

“Because of Kai Kozu?” she asks.

Zuko’s snaps to attention so quickly that he sprains his neck. “Where did you hear that name?” he growls.

“Bumi wrote about him in his letter to Aang,” Katara explains.

“Ah, that makes sense,” Zuko says, rubbing the sprain. “Kai Kozu used to keep a pretty low profile. Barely anyone outside the Earth Kingdom had ever heard of him… But lately he’s been moving more and more into the public eye. I don’t like it. He’s already got power in Kyoshi and Chin. It wouldn’t surprise me if he had plans for Omashu and Ba Sing Se, too.”

“Oh no! Zuko!” Katara’s hand flies to the reassuring carvings on her mother’s necklace, and she traces them apprehensively. “What about Toph and Suki? What about your uncle? Isn’t he still in the city?”

“I did write to them,” Zuko shrugs. “I asked them to stay here in the palace, but Toph and Suki are out in the country somewhere. I can’t reach them.”

“And your uncle?”

“Uncle doesn’t want to leave his tea shop. And besides…” Zuko blushes brick red, “I think he might have a lady friend in the city. He’s acting like a love-sick teenager.”

Katara watches as Zuko drags his fingers through his hair, tugging at the ends. “You’re really worried about this, aren’t you?” she asks.

“I am,” he admits.

Katara leans back into the mountain of fluffy pillows and soft white furs, and closes her eyes—too tired to care that Zuko is still watching her. She says a silent prayer for Toph, Suki, and Iroh in Ba Sing Se, and thanks every spirit she can name for her father’s stubbornness. At least she knows Sokka is safe in the Southern Water Tribe—far, far away from the Earth Kingdom capital…

As she drifts off into sleep, she reaches out to feel Zuko’s warm body beside her—his chest rising and falling evenly. She draws a little closer, and he opens his arms wide to make room for her. She pillows her head in the crook of his arm and breathes in a scent like something out of a dream. In fact, she thinks it must have been a dream, because when she wakes up in the night he is gone, and the spot where she imagined he had lain is awash with moonlight.

Even I need to contribute positivity sometimes.

Big facts.

For real.

Zutara/Zukka art where Sokka/Kataras skin is as light as Zukos? Whack.

As in whack with a chair.

Jun: So...not your girlfriend, huh?

Zuko, holding hands with Katara, who is holding steambaby, and both wearing wedding rings: Shut up.