zuko this is what you're doing to her

anonymous asked:

Oh yeah I sooo agree with what you're saying, it really did feel like Katara was just angry at Zuko for no reason now, she wanted to hate him but he kept giving her reasons not to and that was frustrating her even more, plus she already trusted him and was comfortable around him b/c she would get so close to him and be up in his face, she wanted him to slip but he never did and that drove her crazy, I think she should've forgave him sooner like after he saved Hakoda, what do you think?

You’re right that she already trusted him. She had to and here’s even more examples beyond her body language:

1) She let him be alone with Aang.

2) She let him travel with Aang to an undisclosed location for an undisclosed amount of time.

3) She didn’t seem to be freaking out when he ran off with Sokka for however many days that was.

4) After he saved her dad, it did seem that she tolerated him. I think being forced to separate from her father when Azula attacked triggered her rage again (another family member gone because of the Fire Nation) and she directed it at him. 

She knew he’d changed. She knew he wasn’t going to hurt herself or her friends. She did trust him. She just found it easier to project her feelings of hatred on him than rage against an entire nation. She couldn’t hurt the Fire Nation for what they’d done, but she could hurt him. She was constantly snapping at him and pushing him to a point where any normal person would explode, but he remained patient, just proving her hatred wrong even more. 

As far as when she should’ve forgave him, I think it came at the proper time. The fury we saw in The Western Air Temple wasn’t just going to disappear… it was a lot deeper than hurt feelings and anger. It was malevolent. It was burning her up from the inside out. Saving her dad wouldn’t fix that kind of deep-seated rage. They needed to be alone and discuss what was wrong. Katara needed to explore her relationship with him, not her relationship him and her friends. 

anonymous asked:

you're so sure zuko and katara were supposed to be together, why do you think aang ended up with her instead? what do you think the writers intended or originally intended for them?

This is another post I made that deals with this same topic. It has a lot of links to a lot of behind the scenes stuff with Bryke.

The simple answer for why Katara ended up with Aang is Bryke. They had a soft spot for Kataang, and they did not like what the other writers had planned for Zutara. Bryke seemed to have this very negative view of Zutara in general, as well as the fans. One of the comments in their interviews made a dig at Zutara by saying that people started shipping it because of the tree scene in The Waterbending Scroll where Katara was tied up. And they said that women who liked it would have doomed relationships. As a “joke” of course. Their personal bias definitely impacted the direction they chose to take the story.

The writers originally intended for Aang to let her go eventually. He was supposed to deal with his jealousy over his romantic feelings for Katara. That is why the story made such a big deal about his final chakra, and how he could not master the Avatar State because he chose attachment. He was supposed to learn what universal transcendent love is by opening his Crown Chakra. It is not possessive and clingy like attachment is. It is selfless and unconditional. But because Book 4 was cancelled, there was not enough time to give this subplot a satisfactory conclusion. So Bryke came up with him striking his back against the rock at the last minute, and Aang ended up with Katara.

honxrable  asked:

Zuko paused in disbelief, just staring at her wide-eyed, and stunned. He shook his head as his good eye began to water. "You… what?" he choked, weakly squeezing her hand. "Why would you? Now you're in pain… and… you risked…?" He mumbled, closing his eyes as a tear fell. Zuko knew he was dying, and he knew this could be his last moments, but this was news to him- what she gave up. "I love you, Katara… thank you… I don't know what to… I can't believe you… Katara, thank you… I just… thank you."

“I wanted to do anything I could to try and save you.” She shook her head. “I’m fine. I’m just a little sore, that’s all.” Katara moved his hair from his face, swiping it to one side. “I love you, too. I always have, and always will.” She caressed his cheek, smiling sadly at him. “You deserve to live…” Katara waited a moment before speaking once more. “The doctor and I talked on the way here and she had a good point. I really think we should call our children. They need to know what’s happening.”

anonymous asked:

Do you think it's possible Bryke really don't understand that they didn't write Korrasami well? All of the other romantic relationships in Avatar are badly written, so maybe they just truly think they're awesome at it even though they're not? Mai/Zuko happened off screen, Katara/Aang was forgotten when it was convenient, Sokka/Suki went from you're a sexist to implied sex with little interaction, Sokka/Yue involved a lot of drama for him seeing her, what, 3 times? Ect, ect, ect...

I think they realize that it’s less than ideal; Bryan just decided to blame the network instead of taking responsibility for not putting in much effort until the last scene.

anonymous asked:

OK SO. Zuko has feelings for Katara but he doesn't think she feels the same way and he wants to protect their friendship. So he decides to move far away from her to get rid of his feelings. And then she's like wtf excuse u, Zuko? So she goes after him and confronts his run away ass. Ps: if u could write this as an one shot that'll be fantastic. Do what you can. Pps: you're great. 👀🌚🌝


Zuko left.

It hurt too much - the beauty of her - so he left. He left her eyes, her smile, her laugh that lilted through the air like bird song captured on a breeze. He left her radiance, her warmth, her all encompassing peace that touched the world around her and tinted everything a calm, serene blue.  

He didn’t want to leave, not in the sense that most people would assume. No- what he wanted was behind him- probably standing on his porch now, knocking on his door with a brilliant smile and a knowing look in her eye.

But it hurt too much. So he left.

And now he was here- a hundred, two hundred, three hundred miles away. He counted them off on his fingers, holding up three in the air and then clutching them into a fist. He didn’t even know where here was. He just knew that is was far enough to forget… or try to forget.

At least here, the sky wouldn’t remind him of her bright irises. The trees wouldn’t taunt him with their swaying dance so similar to her walk. The wind… the wind wouldn’t carry her voice or her giggle or the heart stopping way she murmured his name… at least, that’s what he was telling himself.

He walked up to the door -a dirty, rusty looking thing- and shoved a gold key into the lock. It wasn’t much- just a one bedroom, one bathroom house- but it wasn’t there. It wasn’t near her. He stepped inside, dropping the one suitcase he’d brought on the hardwood floor, and tried to ignore how he’d never call this place home. Home was her. It was the way her lips lifted with a smile and her knuckles brushed his as they walked side by side.

Knuckles brushing… never touching. Fingers never grasping, hands never holding. All the times he’d touched her, but he’d never really touched her.

Not that he hadn’t wanted to. Oh, how desperately he wanted to. All the nights he’d laid awake, stretched out atop too-hot sheets and imagining how she’d look lying next to him. Imagining how her skin would feel beneath his fingers and how her lips would feel against his and how her body would feel moving with his.

He snorted aloud, shaking his head as he sank down along a barren wall.

Even if they never made it that far… just to know that she loved him, just to hear her say it… that would’ve been enough.

Any physical expression of his love for her could wait. Hell, he’d wait his entire life if he knew that she loved him back. As long as she loved him back. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. And maybe he should’ve asked, he should’ve been sure before he’d taken off, but somehow, he’d convinced himself that any attempt would be futile.

She didn’t love him. She couldn’t love him. She was happier without him.

That was his mantra.

He repeated it now, golden eyes sharp and careful as they scanned the empty living room. He pushed her aside, pushed the feelings down, planning a trip to downtown to buy a couch and mattress.

“Just the necessities. Just enough to get by,” he muttered to the stale air, tracing a shape into a dusty wall. Just enough to move on, to forget.

She didn’t love him. She couldn’t love him. She was happier without him. 

Katara rapped on the door -a red, fancy looking thing- and it rattled slightly in the door frame as it always did. She’d been here a thousand times, a thousand memories held together by the stained wood of the porch. In each grain, she could trace a new day, a new secret or side or smile to him that she hadn’t yet seen.

That lopsided grin of his- that was her favorite.

Her toe traced the whorl in the wood just to the left of her feet. The whorl she’d pointed out that day, saying it looked like a dog’s asshole… the whorl that made this silly, endearing smile spread across his face. His eyes had lit up, the gold so bright and happy, and they danced playfully above his full, pink lips.

It was an image she’d ingrained in her mind, saving it away for dreary, rainy days such as this.

She couldn’t quite place why it felt so dreary, though. The rain was something she loved. It brought new beginnings, she told him, a statement that wiped any smirk from his face. He would gripe, growl, grimace- anything to look as miserable as possible when she made him stand with her in it.

Just because you like the rain, doesn’t mean you have to get soaked.

She counted the number of times she’d heard that in the last month, holding up eight fingers before curling both hands into fists and pounding on his door again.

“Are you going to let me in or what?” she called, huffing loudly, “I will make you stand out on the lawn with me for this.”

No answer. She tried the knob.

The door opened easily, exposing a quiet living room full of what he called rugged furniture and decor. It was dark, as was the rest of the home, and she switched on lights, making her way back to the kitchen.

Another hundred memories had been made here- laughs and silly dances and a billion empty calories. Every moment spoke of their relationship- a deep, caring friendship that always felt like more. Lingering looks, shy glances, the way his hand would brush the small of her back…

It gave her goosebumps to remember those caresses now.

All the times she’d seen the words on the tip of his tongue -I love you- and all the times they’d never been uttered. It stung, for a moment, to think of the chances he’d never taken. It hurt all the worse to look about the kitchen and think of all the times she should’ve said something.

I love you, Zuko.

With a sigh, the thoughts evaporated, leaving her alone to peruse the counter tops. Her eyes, calm and watchful, spotted a thin slip of paper just beside the sink.

She imagined, surrounded by the joy and the happiness of this room -a room she loved as much as him- that such a carefully folded letter would contain similarly minded thoughts. Perhaps words that told of a quick trip to the grocery for her favorite tea or words that whispered of a quiet evening on the back patio, if she just slipped outside.

She never imagined how heartbreaking this letter could be, how black it would make the kitchen’s white walls seem.

I love you. I’m sorry.

All to quickly it hit her. He’d left her. And now she sank to the floor, inhaling deeply and then shattering when she realized his smell lingered about her. It clung to the curtains, the wallpaper, the university shirt draped over her shoulders. His shirt. She wanted to rip it from her skin now.

He left her. He didn’t want her. He was better off without her.

That was her mantra.

Her fingers crumpled the paper as the world itself seemed to fall down. Her breath ragged, her heart aching- he’d left her. All the days, all the minutes, all the seconds. They didn’t matter anymore. It didn’t matter that he made her happy or that she’d seen him smile like no one else. It didn’t matter that she was his best friend and he was her one and only.

All that mattered was that he’d left her. He didn’t want her. He was better of without her.

She glared at the letter, reading and rereading it as if that would change it’s verbiage or erase his script or erase him.

“Love,” she whispered, “It might as well be loved.”

Part two will be posted tomorrow.

theadamantdaughter  asked:

“Fuck. It’s like what they say – good girls finish last…” Katara slumped on Zuko's bed, pulling off her heels with a huff. She tossed them across his dorm room, ignoring its pristine condition, and grabbed the quilt beside her. "I let these stupid guys take me on dates and they seem nice enough but the second I don't put out they get all offended and act like I used them for food." She scowled at him, yanking her hair loose from it's bun, "What's wrong with me, Zuko? You're a guy. Tell me."

    Zuko watched with a smirk of bemusement as his friend threw herself on the bed. He closed his laptop and yawned as he sat in his red and black, checkered, flannel pajama pants and black t-shirt. Her question made him laugh. 

    “You aren’t doing anything wrong, they are. They’re being assholes,” he replied. “They’re assholes who are trying to use you for sex– not you using them for food. They just suck. Everyone sucks.”

aequa  asked:

Katara rested her cheek against her hand as she scribbled down the notes written on the smart board in front of her- how boring, things she already learned a year ago now being spewed back to her face. She sighed lightly and doodled a flower in the corner of her paper. "Excuse me, sir, but the two atrioventricular valves are between the upper chambers and the lower chambers. I believe you're thinking of the two semilunar valves." Katara spoke with a raised eyebrow.

  Zuko inhaled sharply in frustration as the voice of a familiar student corrected him– once again. He was only a TA, and his face went bright red each time she called him out in front of the class, and he didn’t understand why the senior student had to continue doing this over minor details. What had he done to her? 

   “Thank you, Katara,” Zuko spoke, taking a deep breath and correcting the mistake on the whiteboard while mumbling beneath his breath in irritation.