Imagine Atla But Zukos A Girl. THE POTENTial. Shes A Moody Lil 16 Year Old. With A Half Shaved Head.

wait what. what. literally what. neither of them look white???? iroh's bad actions are never explicitly shown and none of us are smart enough to think about it too hard??? yes i kinda agree with the zuko one cause we just glossed over and focused on the redemption arc but still. i also think that we dont give aang enough shit about yelling at toph (the library thingy) and non-consensually kissing katara (still adore kataang dw). i dont think that toph gets enough shit for being so blatantly rude all the time. and i think we truly dont remember sokkas misogyn (yes it is fixed but still) they all committed bad actions and all of them have their bad actions glossed over by everyone but their haters but i dont think it has anything to do with race because NONE OF THEM ARE WHITE and i'd argue that neither of them are really that masculine. at least i don't view them as such. sokka, hakoda, jet, ozai, zhao and honestly kinda toph are arguably more masculine. yes i do think that their wrongdoings are not focused on enough but i don't think it's because of their skin colour or masculinity

Crazy how the only 2 major characters in ATLA that don't get ridiculously scrutinised for all of their wrongdoings are both the lightest skinned and most traditionally masculine characters in the show (zuko and iroh). Probs just a coincidence tho

What do u think james would have been like as a father

Oh boy, here we go.

Anon, this might be my favourite ask ever. Ever, do you hear me? So take a seat because this is going to be a long one.

It goes without saying that he would have been incredible, yes, but in what way?

(Under the cut because it got too long)

I don't think Harry was planned, purely because of the war. If it hadn't been for that, I think he would have still wanted to be a dad, without a doubt, and a young one at that: being raised by elderly parents probably made him realise that he was luckier than his parents, because they never got to see him grow up, grow old. Little did he know...

James adored being a young dad. He loved the fun bits and the ugly bits. Harry helped him become the man he was destined to be. In the 15 months they shared together (don't worry I'll answer your question in a moment), James was forced to learn some hard truths and make tough decisions. I've always seen him as someone who had a 'black and white' mindset when it comes to right or wrong: it was simple for him, and he couldn't really understand why people did bad things when they knew they were wrong. Well, he knew why, but it only started making sense when he became a father, because suddenly he realised how much he had underestimated the privilege of being able to choose. Having a kid during a war took a toll on him and changed him, because now he was forced to decide whether he was a father first or a soldier. And it was a choice he had to make every day.

He also had to choose what kind of father he was going to be. The kind who comes back from a mission and drinks himself into oblivion, or the one who goes straight to his wife and son and despite being bone-tired and with muscles that ache at every step, he's there for them with a smile on his face. And don't get me wrong, I do believe he did get drunk and felt utterly defeated sometimes. He could have done that and he knew no one would have judged him for it, but he couldn't let the bad days outnumber the good ones.

Let's pretend nothing bad happened on Halloween 1981, and that Voldemort died and everyone got their happy ending:

James is the kind of dad who has long conversations with his babbling two year old, where he pretends to talk about politics and books and Quidditch without using baby voices.

He does use baby voices sometimes, though. Mainly when Harry won't eat his peas or when James has to change his nappy (honestly I hope wizards use them, otherwise the poor babies just have to sit in their poop until someone vanishes it). He does impressions of all his Hogwarts professors, but Harry's favourite is Filch, he laughs so much he makes James laugh too.

He sings 'Beautiful Boy' when Harry can't fall asleep, a smile painted on his face, and when Harry's brows start to relax he whispers the rest of the lyrics, brushing his hair until his eyes close and his breath becomes even (credits to this post for the headcanon).

He's an extremely concerned toddler parent, because Harry learns to run first and walk second. The little boy hates hats, and he always comes back from his walks with his hair all tangled and with leaves in it (yes, Harry dives into leaf piles before his parents can stop him). James, heartbroken, takes a bottle of Sleekeazy's and pours the product on Harry's hair, apologising the whole time.

He watches him play and talk to his toys for Merlin knows how long, hypnotised by his brilliant son.

When Harry accidentally makes Sirius' pancake float towards his plate, James picks up his son and starts dancing with him around the kitchen, singing a made up song that Sirius will mock him for every time he has the chance. By noon, James has not only decided he's going to throw a party in honour of Harry's first accidental magic, he's also decided the menu and planned every activity. He invites Fabian and Gideon and asks to bring their nephews too because the more the merrier, and that's how Ron becomes Harry's best friend.

I also thinks James would absolutely love to have a big family, so in my headcanon Harry has at least a couple of siblings. Imagine being surrounded by all those Potters... A dream for some (James) a nightmare for others (probably Petunia, who is straight up horrified the one time she pays them a visit).

James teaches Harry to fly, reads him stories every night and they even have movie nights every Wednesday, even the day after a full moon, where James falls asleep on the sofa as they watch Star Wars, and Harry goes out like a light shortly after him, head on his chest, drooling on James' shirt.

But most of all, James listens. He truly listens. He makes sure Harry never doubts his worth. He's the kind of dad who isn't afraid to show his emotions, and probably cries as Harry boards the Hogwarts Express for the first time.

When Harry gets in trouble at school for the first time, James realises that lecturing him is not that different from when he had to give out detentions as Head Boy... Except that it is, because when James has to tell him that it's wrong to put Padfoot's hairs in Malfoy's potion, Harry asks him why, and he tilts his head exactly like Lily does when she challenges him, and this kid has her eyes and James' knowing smile, but he's also clever in a way James and Lily are not, and James doesn't know what to do with this information.

Honestly, I have so many more headcanons and if I had to write all of them this post would never see the light of day, so I'll stop here and maybe I'll make a part two, who knows.

In conclusion, this James isn't a perfect dad, but he's a wonderful one. He might be too strict sometimes, and other times too lenient; he might disagree with Harry on some things, and they might fight and raise their voices. But James does everything in his power not to make Harry go to sleep angry or sad, and if it does happen, he makes sure to wake him up with a kiss on his forehead and a hug. Or maybe lots of hugs, because James is a very affectionate dad. With his parents in his life, Harry doesn't doubt for one moment that he's not worthy of being loved.

ok to explain like i still see the appeal of zutara idk just not for me. they both still have their parallels AND similarities, just personally prefer zukka please i already removed the tag of zutara. i understand it was inappropriate, and have corrected it. thanks :)

i can explain why zutara DOES NOT work because of maths. all anyone ever talks about is how they have so many parallels. fire/water, banished/respected, painted lady/blue spirit etc. "nono that only makes them a better couple" guys parallel lines never meet. they dont intersect. AKA THEY ARENT TOGETHER. AND LIKE IF WE WERE TO COMPARE ZUTATA TO ZUKKA YOU CAN SEE ZUKKAS BETTER

older brothers, prodigy sisters - similarities

fire/water, bender/non bender - differences

its a healthy balance smh

I think everyone envied the beautiful couple that James and Lily were. They were the definition of love, the definition of romance. It was easy to see that they were meant for each other. And once they were together they would grow old together. Soulmates forever. There was no one else for them.

They were that couple that made everyone smile when they were together. The couple that proved to everyone that love existed.

idc who u ship with sokka just know that he will be oblivious one and katara is SO tired

I simply do not understand why marauders fans make ship names using nouns/adjectives. Just combine their names like a normal fandom. And half the time you can’t even tell what ship it’s supposed to be. I saw flower used three times for three different people in different ships. This system makes no sense. And then people will use completely different reasonings for the adjectives. Like rosekiller, rose because it’s his last name and killer because he fucking kills people like what? It is so confusing to me guys. Please stop this madness. 

Good morning ☀️

GUYS READ ALL OF THIS PLEASE PLEASE PL–

this made me smile and giggle and kick my feet ahhhhhhhh

“Oh, fuck.”

The clatter of her practice sword on the ground is almost louder than the crunch that rings out from his wrist. He inhales sharply, biting back a shout — no matter how many times it’s happened, he will never get used to breaking a bone. That shit hurts.

“Fuck, fuck fuck. Fuck, Seaweed Brain, is it broken?”

“Think so,” Percy grits out. He tries for a smile, and Annabeth matches it, small and worried. He leans into the hand she cups over his cheek. “Not too bad, though. If I just dump my water bottle on it —”

“Absolutely not. Water healing leaves you achey when it rains, you know that.” Shifting to wrap her arm around his waist, she helps him stand, shouldering some of his weight like it’s his ankle that’s broken. He lets her, reaching down to squeeze the hand resting on his hip — I’m fine. We’re good. She turns her hand to wrap clasp their hands together — Okay. If you’re sure.

They walk together to the infirmary, taking their time. Aside from the pain pulsing from his arm, it’s not too bad — camp is as balmy as usual, and the spring break energy is practically visible, it’s so potent. The Demeter cabin has plants growing everywhere, flowers and fruit trees blooming as bright as a box of new crayons, and the air is filled with shouts of laughter and teasing. Annabeth’s steps fall in time with his, and she’s a comfortable warmth at his side, pressed from shoulder to hip.

“You still okay?”

“Yep.” He catches her eye, smiling crookedly at her. “Doesn’t even make my top fifty.”

She rolls her eyes, hipchecking him. “Don’t I know it, ya klutz.”

“Not sure I would call being flung from the St. Louis Arch being a klutz. Or exploded in a volcano. Or crushed under the sky. Or slashed by giants. Or chased by —”

“You’re talking, but all I’m hearing is Annabeth, please, please pinch me, as hard as you can —”

“Hey! Get those claws off me, gods you’re worse than an empousai —”

“— and when you’re done pinching me please put me in the tightest headlock you can manage —”

“I am injured! You are beating up an injured person right now!”

“— and then please just bite a chunk out of my shoulder —”

“Cut it out or I’m telling Mom!”

“Wimp,” she taunts, finally releasing him. “I don’t go running to Sally every time I lose a fight.”

“Wha — you do so!”

She ducks through the infirmary door, smirking like she can’t hear him.

“You literally — you snitched on me last week! I got grounded for two days!”

“And you deserved it,” she says primly.

He gapes. “I did not!”

“Anytime you two are done,” Kayla drawls, shoving a clipboard at them. They accept it with matching sheepish grins, cowed at her perfectly arched eyebrow and slowly tapping foot. “I got patients to deal with and older brothers to harass. Let’s get this moving.”

She is shockingly good at humbling people for a thirteen year old. The two of them turn to their clipboard, chagrined, letting her stomp away with an exasperated He’ll be with you soon! Don’t set off the sprinklers again!

“That was one time,” Percy mumbles, ears reddening.

Annabeth pats him on the back. “There, there,” she says mockingly. “The fact that it was one time definitely negates the fact that you flooded the entire Big House because you got jumpscared by a child.”

“Harley can be sneaky, okay. Let me live.”

“Literally no.”

Annabeth does most of the paperwork for him, ‘cause she’s a nerd because his wrist is far too swollen for him to write properly, so it takes maybe half the time it normally would. The infirmary is crowded as Hell, though (he knows, he’s been), so they settle in for the wait, amusing themselves by tearing little pieces off of a blank form, balling them up, and tossing them in increasingly harder places. Percy is winning 7-4, although Annabeth might just pull through if she manages to toss her paper ball into Travis’ wide-open snoring mouth.

“Hey, guys. Sorry for the wait.”

Aw. She missed. Percy was looking forward to that.

“Hey, Will.”

He drags his attention away from the son of Hermes to greet his friend, but frowns before he can open his mouth.

“Woah, dude, you good? You look exhausted.”

Will snorts. “Welcome to spring break, man.” He holds his hand out for the clipboard, scanning it briefly. “Sparring injury? Oh, thank the gods. I could use a break. Here, face me.”

He climbs up onto the minimal left over space on the cot, tucking his legs under his thighs. Percy turns to mirror him, hesitantly sticking out his arm — A break? he mouths to Annabeth, meeting her eyes over Will’s head.

She shrugs.

“Just spent four hours putting Jake’s nose back on his face,” Will mumbles, placing a careful hand on his fingertips and his forearm. Percy flinches — his skin is blisteringly hot. Like someone just dropped a hot stone onto him. “I never want to sing a skin cell hymn again in my life.” He prods at Percy’s wrist for a moment, gentle enough not to hurt. “Okay, hold still, I’m gonna fix ya right up.”

Healing hymns are familiar, by now, but Percy will never get tired of them.

The cool thing about ambrosia and nectar is that as pleasure food for the gods, it’s pleasant. It’s whatever taste you want, whatever you need to have most, you get it. But healing hymns are intentional the way nectar and ambrosia aren’t. Ambrosia and nectar happen to be healing for demigods — healing hymns were constructed to knit you back together, like you mother smoothing a bandaid over a skinned knee. They’re warm and sweet and deeply, endlessly comforting in a way most things simply cannot claim to be. They don’t feel like a medical procedure or a hasty patch job, they feel like someone gripping you tightly and promising you’ll be okay. They feel like getting carried to bed when you fall asleep on the couch. They feel like sitting down after hours of standing, like a drink of water when your throat is drier than sand. Healing hymns draw the pain and sick and ache from your body, and they feel like relief.

But this time, Percy can’t focus on it.

With every word, Will seems to get a little duller. Nothing like the horrible ash-grey he went in the war, dragging the poison from Annabeth’s body, but like his usual sunny disposition was dialed down a few notches. Enough that Annabeth frowns in concern, drumming her hands on her thighs, watching him closely.

“There,” Will says, pulling away. Percy turns his now-healed wrist, noticing the slight pant to Will’s breath, the strain to his smile. The shake of his blistered fingertips.

“You look overworked,” Annabeth says quietly.

Will holds his hands up in a what can you do gesture. “Spring break.”

“You said.”

“It’s just busy, is all.”

“Yeah, but —”

“Guys,” he interrupts, smiling tiredly, “there are two hundred ADHD demigods at this camp right now who have been trapped in a classroom for six months. There are three of us. I’m going to be a little drained; we’re all a little drained. But I’m fine, okay?” He gives them a second to scrutinize his expression, eyebrows raised in amusement. “I have been running my infirmary for years. I know how to pace myself, and I certainly know how to make sure my siblings are pacing themselves. If something goes really wrong, Chiron is a whistle away. I can go longer than you guys without sleep, anyway. Apollo kid health.”

“If you say so,” Percy says reluctantly. “I just — I can wear a wrist brace, man. Not every injury needs to be handled when it happens. You can tell people no.”

“I appreciate that, Percy, and I’ll keep it in mind. Anyways, I’ve got more patients. Stay off that wrist for the rest of the day, okay? It might be tender for a bit.”

Percy turns to Annabeth as Will leaves, frowning. He’s has never noticed the so-called spring break stress before (his camp spring breaks are usually a blast, but now that he’s thinking about it, he can’t think of a single spring break where he spent any time at all with Will, which is odd), but it can’t be good for him. There’s gotta be something they can do to ease some of the bruising under their friend’s eyes.

“I could set off the fire alarms again,” Percy suggests. “That’ll certainly get this place cleared out.”

Annabeth snorts. “I think that’ll cause more harm than good, Seaweed Brain. It’ll just fall in him to clean it all up, after.”

“Shoot.”

Percy counts nine of the forty cots currently unused. Will, Kayla, and Austin are rushing from cot to cot, handing out nectar, wrapping bandages, rattling off hymns at light speed. All three of them look exhausted, squeezing shoulders when they pass each other, knocking hips, exchanging tired smiles. This is so clearly something they’re used to.

Annabeth’s head rests on his shoulder.

“It wasn’t always like this,” she whispers. “When it was fully staffed…”

Percy exhales heavily. Yeah. He remembers. There was a lot less complication, once upon a time. The most chaotic the infirmary would get was when Lee would challenge his siblings to Hymn Karaoke — trying to heal with pop songs. There was a lot more laughter, at one point. A lot more people.

Percy sighs, squeezing his eyes shut. It never does well to dwell, but he — gods, he wish they all had more time. To sit with it, to acknowledge…everything. Siblings. Friends. A camp that’s smaller than it’s supposed to be.

Annabeth squeezes his hand again, and he squeezes back, resting his head on top of hers.

“Hey,” she murmurs after a moment, pursing her lips at the front door. “Look.”

Slinking through the entrance like a criminal is Nico, in all his dork ass black camp shirt glory. He looks around shiftily, like he’s trying to make sure no one sees him, and when his gaze lands on Percy and Annabeth his eyes widen. Annabeth smiles at him, but it does nothing to ease the spooked look to his face, back arched like a startled cat. He turns to leave, but before he can slip back out the door —

“Nico!”

The son of Hades whips back around so quickly he brains himself on the doorframe. Percy ducks his head and bites his lip, hard, because he can feel Nico’s glare at the side of his head like the press of hot coal, and if he laughs as badly as he wants to then the infirmary is about to look like a Spirit Halloween.

Will turns back to his patient, squeezing his eyes shut and rattling a hymn off so quickly it makes a burst of light pop from his whole body, and rushes over to where Nico’s standing. He only trips over two things, which is remarkable for him. Percy would be proud if he wasn’t a little embarrassed on his behalf.

“Nico! Hi!”

“He-ey, Will,” Nico says, voice cracking badly on every vowel. Annabeth shoves her face into Percy’s shoulder, body shaking.

“I didn’t know you were coming! I thought you were in the arena all day.”

Nico shrugs, shoes scuffing the floor. “I am. I just — uh, I got hurt? So. Came to see you.”

Will’s beam is so bright it hurts to look at, a little. Percy squints and realises that’s not just the excitement, actually — he really is glowing, faintly. His hands flap slightly at his sides.

“Well, you’re in the right place, then.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of them say anything for a minute, rocking back on their heels. Will watches Nico closely, biting his lip. Nico looks resolutely at the floor.

“We weren’t this bad,” Annabeth whispers, “were we?”

Percy shakes his head. “Nah, there’s no way.”

“Gods. It’s so — I don’t know whether to smile or take a dip in the Lethe. It’s embarrassing and endearing at the same time.”

“Painful to watch, but I can’t stop looking,” Percy agrees.

“What’d you hurt?” Will asks, finally. “Did you pull your shoulder again?”

A look of panic flits briefly across Nico’s face until he smooths it to something neutral, aloof.

“Yep. Totally. During — sword fighting, I swung — I did this really big thrust, actually. Just — hugely powerful, training dummy exploded on impact.” He clears his throat. “Some might say too powerful. If you can imagine.”

Percy cradles his head in his hands. “Oh my gods — ”

“Don’t laugh don’t laugh don’t laugh,” Annabeth chants, “oh my gods, don’t laugh —”

A light flush dusts Will’s cheeks. He brushes a strand of hair behind his ear, fiddling with his earrings. “Woah, really? I’ve never heard of that before.”

Nico smirks, standing up a little straighter. “Well, it’s not the first time. I tend to go pretty hard.” Remembering his supposedly hurt shoulder, he exaggerates a wince. “Too hard sometimes, I guess. Could you do the — the energy thing?”

“Oh — gods, yeah, sorry. Hold on.” He stares at Nico’s shoulder, hesitating. “It, um, works better with skin-to-skin contact.”

“I have seen crystal vases less transparent,” Annabeth says, aghast. “In two years he’s going to remember this and try to drown himself.”

“I will be counting down the days,” Percy says gleefully.

On rare, rare occasions, the gods answer his prayers. Clearly, both Nemesis and Aphrodite are looking at him kindly today. Percy makes a note to scrape some of the good stuff off his plate for them both today. Hell, maybe he’ll skip the portioning and toss them an entire roast chicken each. Or something. They deserve it.

Will places both hands — interesting, Percy notes, his wrist was snapped cleanly in two and he only needed one hand, wonder why that was — on Nico’s shoulder and closes his eyes, screwing up his face in concentration.

“Huh. I’m not feeling much damage. You said it was your right shoulder?”

“I heal quick,” Nico says loudly. “I mean, some of the damage might have — um.” He clears his throat. His face glows a faint crimson. He clears his throat again. “Y’know?”

Will’s face is a similar shade.

“Right, right. Yeah. Um, brace yourself.”

Instead of starting to sing, Will closes his eyes, holding completely still. After a moment, the tips of his fingers begin to glow; soft, ambery yellow, flickering like lit candles. He opens his eyes again and focuses intently on Nico’s bare skin, tracing patterns around every defined muscle, leaving a trail of light behind. He lingers, for a moment, when he connects the last string of light, waiting until it has faded entirely from Nico’s skin to remove his hands and shove them in the pockets of his coat.

“That better?” he asks softly.

Nico swallows. “Yeah.”

“Good. I’m glad, Nico. It means a lot that you — came to me. When you needed it.”

“I trust you, I guess.” Nico looks away. “You know what you’re doing.”

“I think I just threw up in my mouth a little,” Percy says thoughtfully.

Annabeth laughs, shoving his shoulder. “Don’t be mean.” She pauses. “Me too.”

With a sigh that can only be described as besotted, Will steps reluctantly away.

“I have patients,” he says, in the same tone of voice Percy usually says I have midterms. “So I gotta…”

“Yeah, no, go. Do your —” Nico gestures vaguely. “Doctor thing.”

“Right. Yeah. I’m gonna — go.” He turns, walking back towards a group of Hephaestus kids who appear to be tightly entangled in some kind of net. After a few steps, though, he pauses, biting his lip, then darts back over to Nico, pressing a lightning-fast kiss to his cheek — “Um, bye. Thank you for visiting. Bye,” — and then runs back over to his siblings, shy smile on his face.

Nico’s jaw is brushing the floor of his father’s palace. He stands, still as a statue, for four entire minutes.

“I think he just died,” Annabeth observes, eyebrows climbing higher and higher up her forehead with every passing second “Damn. Survived so much only to literally die because a cute boy kissed his cheek. A true hero’s end.”

Percy, because he is a kind, concerned friend, clears his throat loudly.

“Yo, di Angelo, you alive?”

Nico startles so violently he falls right over. Percy shoves his fist in his mouth to keep from cackling.

“Shut the fuck up,” Nico hisses venomously, scrambling upright. “Both of you, shut the — not a word —”

Percy and Annabeth make the mistake of looking at each other and simply erupt. Percy can’t feel his stomach. His lungs have abandoned ship. He’s glad as hell he’s in the infirmary because he is heaving for breath, tears streaming down his face, entire body convulsing. Nico stands in front of them literally shaking with rage, entire body redder than one of Apollo’s sacred cows, trying and failing to string together a threat that will ease any and all of his suffering. Annabeth screeches, almost falling off the bed as she cackles. Percy cannot even find the strength to catch her, his muscles are so weak.

“I fucking — I hate you! Both of you! You’re dead to me!”

“Your face!” Percy shrieks.

“Percy Jackson, I am going to turn you to fucking dark matter! I despise your very essence! I —” He stomps his foot. “I’m leaving, and I’m going to leave a rotting corpse in your cabin! Screw you!”

“Oh my gods,” Annabeth wheezes, digging her nails into his arm. “Oh my gods, that was —”

Percy wipes a tear from his eye. “I love being alive. I love being alive so much.”

“It really is great.” Composing herself, and biting back the leftover giggles that keep bubbling out, Annabeth looks back towards Will. He stands much straighter, now, smile back to full brightness. His siblings, too, look rejuvenated, snickering to each other and making kissy faces behind Will’s back. “So many beautiful things to witness. I’ve never seen his face go that red.”

Percy sighs. “This is genuinely going to carry me through the semester. I think his soul died a little. And Will just — gods, that kid is bold.”

“Oh says you, Mr. Do I Get A Good Luck Kiss.”

“Hey, I earned that.”

Annabeth grins, punching him in the shoulder. He grabs her wrist and tugs her towards him, chasing the curve of her smile. She laughs into his mouth and it taste like strawberries and freedom, and he presses a kiss to her cheek, to her jaw, and the side of her neck, resting there, breathing against her skin. After a moment her hands come up and slide in his hair, gently untangling the knotted mess.

“He is one thousand percent going to put a zombie in your bed, you know,” she says after a moment.

Percy snorts. “Yeah, I know.” He smiles. “Worth it.”

Hakoda not realizing Zuko and Sokka are a couple because they act just like he does with Bato and they’re *obviously* just bros.

Obviously.