It’s been less than a month since Azula returned to the corps and she can already feel her body giving out—the arches in her feet are falling like poorly suspended bridges and her muscles budge restlessly beneath her skin. She knows her body is rebelling against her, but in a rare act of recklessness she finds that she no longer cares and literally throws herself into Ty Lee, pressing her so tightly against the practice room mirror that Azula can see her breath making shapes against the glass when her lips bite and suck on tender, breakable skin. Azula busies herself with the feeling of Ty Lee’s palm between her legs in an effort to ignore her distorted reflection—the red bleeding into her eyes and the bones in her shoulders beginning to shift and transmute into something Azula has never been able to call human.

Asami tries to brace herself for the way the rubble crushes her legs, twists some of her bones so badly that tears leak from the corners of her eyes, but it’s no use fighting against it when she can barely see through the blood leaking down her forehead. She starts slightly when she hears footsteps clear the gravel nearby and winces at the rough weight of a palm against her face. You can’t do this again, Asami wants to say—wants to pull Korra close and brave ten thousand more timelines if it will keep her safe—but the contact is brief before a shower of blue light takes its place.

“I’m really sorry again,” Korra pleads, brushing her tiny fingers anxiously over the Sato heiress’s right forearm; it’s been an hour since Korra healed her and she can’t forget the deep purple of the bruise bleeding around the circumference of her wrist.

“That’s okay, Avatar Korra,” the girl says, placing her hand over Korra’s before the Avatar’s mind has another chance to replay the instant Naga took that too-sharp turn and lost control. 

Korra is still then, watching curiously as their fingers begin to intertwine and praying the shade of the thick cherry blossom tree is enough to shroud the blush that burns all the way to the tips of her ears.

The day has been long—Razer’s feet ache in the secondhand blue tennis shoes that Hal managed to loan him on short notice, and he still cannot fathom the point of this kingdom filled to the brim with street rats, faulty spaceships and princesses of false planets, nor the overgrown rodents that rule over them. 

“Aren’t they beautiful, Razer?” Aya asks, her voice high and reverent with delight as she watches those colorful man-made stars light up the night sky.

Razer eventually nods, shifts his weight once more on his sore feet before his heart flushes at the warmth of her hand brushing briefly against his.

Title: 4

Rating: M (For dream/spirit world smut~ idk)

Words: ~6000

Characters/Pairings: Korra, Asami Sato, Korrasami

Warnings: Major character death (Asami)

Summary: Korra dreams of Asami four times after she dies.

Notes: This fic takes place in an AU where Korra does not get her bending back, and Asami was killed in the mecha fight with Hiroshi from the finale.

Also on Ao3, where it might be easier to read.

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Tetraphobia, n. The fear of the number four. The superstition that stems from this fear is perhaps most popular in East Asian and Southeast Asian cultures, wherein the number bears a frequent resemblance to the character for “death”.

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Title: Elegy

Fandom: The Legend of Korra

Characters/Pairing: Asami (mostly a character study), Hiroshi Sato, Korra, light Korrasami at the end

Word Count: 1321

Warnings: Minor character death (Asami’s mother), some disturbing imagery at the beginning

Summary: Asami remembers her mother in many ways.

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