might f around and write a kataang fic that flips the usual zutara trope of "zuko helps katara escape a failing relationship with aang" would anybody be interested? 😳
--- can you see me using everything to hold back? ---
She strode up to the imposing wooden double doors, trying to psych herself up for the conversation she had ahead. Katara inhaled sharply, exhaling with a slow hand moment in an attempt at self- soothing. Before she had managed to work up the nerve to reach for the iron knocker, the door swung open of its own accord, accompanied by a sharp burst of air that admittedly caught her off guard.
“Katara!”
And there he was.
“Aang,” she said, and the word felt like such a relief.
“I haven’t seen you in, well, ages.” He tipped his head slightly to the side, looking her up and down, concern painted all over his face. “You want to come inside? I just put on a pot of Uncle Iroh’s tea.”
She smiled again, but it felt weak, unconvincing. “That’d be lovely.” She followed his retreating figure into the temple. After the war had ended, Toph and Aang had both temporarily moved between temples, trying to restore them so that they could become livable once more. Even if there were no more air nomads any more, Aang had reasoned that the monks would have wanted their temples to be used as a sanctuary for those in need, and so they had become ways to house those who were displaced by the war or simply had too many bad memories to return home.
Katara only knew this from word-of-mouth. She had never before seen the air temples restored to their former glory firsthand, and the sight had knocked the wind out of her when she had finished her long and arduous climb up the mountain. Spires shot up through the clouds, with smaller buildings clustered all around them. Bridges extended across to neighbouring mountain peaks, and the entirety of the village was painted in shades of blue and gold. Although there weren’t air nomads flying overhead, as she imagined there would have been over a century ago, she noted that the village was surprisingly energized, with people coming in and out of their homes, a bustling street market and winged lemurs catching breezes overhead.
---
The older I get, the more wisdom I see in Aang’s choice at the end of the series. We always joke that Aang should’ve quickly ponied up and chose the sword on Ozai, head of the regime that’s stolen from everybody and stands to kill more. His friends were telling him to do it. His past selves were telling him to do it. No one would have held it against him, but Aang would’ve had to sit with the weight of that choice for the rest of his life. That’s what he was doing. He was weighing the value of a human life. He’s the only person with the power to make this decision and it takes a well of compassion and forethought to think it over the way he did.
He didn’t choose the third option. He MADE it. And isn’t that what we want from the most powerful bender on the planet??? To think about what they’re going to do? To extend forethought even to an enemy and weigh that against what will keep everybody safe? To try every single time?
reblog for a bigger sample size!!!! i'm so curious to hear how many people schedule vs go with the flow
and is it silly that i thought up the phrase "kataangled" and immediately felt like a genuis??? pls tell me i came up with this because i was devastated when i found out the phrase kataangst was not a unique thought or idea of mine 😔
guys it is going to be like two days late atp because i last minute got indescisive and started some heavy editing, but my fic for kataang week day two (the protectiveness prompt) is a rapunzel tangled AU where katara= rapunzel and aang= flynn rider and i am so beyond excited to share it with you lovely ppl!!!
guys.....guys i'm writing this and it's gonna come out this week....so excited 🤭
kind of obsessed with disney’s wish even though it wasn’t amazing, and i’m thinking of an au where star was human and fell in love with asha. now that i think about it, it’s the perfect kataang au.
katara’s wish is for the avatar to return, to end the war and bring peace.
her wish is granted quite literally—the boy in the sky is the avatar, and he’s there to assist her in her story of saving the world, including her world/home, the southern water tribe.
do you see the vision?
In the aviation world, they don't use AM/PM times. Instead, all times are assumed to be AM unless they're labeled NOTAM.
METAR [Explained]
Transcript Under the Cut
Decoding a METAR Report:
[A METAR report is shown with annotations. The report is:]
METAR KNYC 251600Z 18035G45KT 6SM VCFCFZVA +BLUP NOSIG LTG OHD A3808 RMK A02 SPL130=
[The annotations are:]METAR "METER" (Usually misspelled) KNYC Station ID 251600Z Time (25:16:002) 18035G45KT Wind speed has been 18,035 knots for a good 45 minutes now 6SM Observer is a size 6 small VCFCFZVA Sorry, the station cat walked on the keyboard +BLUP Weird noise the sky made earlier NOSIG Observer has no significant other :( LTG OHD We overheard someone saying there was lightning A3808 Hey look, an Airbus A380-800! RMK Remarkable! A02 Fanfic Archive equipped with a precipitation sensor SPL130= Observer got sleepy around 1:30
atom eve <3 just finished s1 of invincible
BUT MIND YOUUUUU!!!!! when ali hazelwood's book comes out later this (next?) week, i'm dropping everything i have to read it.
THE AWE IN HIS EYES IM CRYING ☹️☹️☹️
Commissioned art made by one of the best artists @heyhanibee
THIS IS NOW POSTEDDDD 😚 HOPE U ENJOY THE NEW FIC <3
lines from my WIP:
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˗ˏˋ fic summary: ˎˊ˗
elsie hannaway, famed people pleaser, hates jack smith turner with a burning passion. since the very moment she looked up the cute boy in her first year physics class excitedly, only to realize that he had been behind the paper years before that had single handedly reduced her future field of study to a subject of mockery, elsie has taken every single negative emotion that she usually keeps locked behind a carefully curated version of herself and funnelled it into unadulterated loathing. now, in the fifth and final year of her undergraduate degree, the only thing standing between her and an acceptance into her program of choice is a spot TA-ing the university's introductory physics course. unfortunately, jack smith turner will be standing beside her as her co-TA. in theory, this is an impossible arrangement, but jack and elsie are soon to discover that things are never as they seem. elsie can be a million versions of herself simultaneously, an electron can be a particle and a wave, and perhaps jack smith turner can be both a scourge on theoretical physics and the best thing that has ever happened to her.
˗ˏˋ more lines from my WIP!!! lolllll: ˎˊ˗
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ꜱᴇᴘᴛᴇᴍʙᴇʀ, ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀʀɪᴇ ᴄᴜʀɪᴇ ᴡɪɴɢ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʜʏꜱɪᴄꜱ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ
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On paper, Elsie had prepared about as much as she could for her first tutorial session. She had roped Cece into watching her go through her diligently prepared PowerPoint in exchange for watching one of the art-nouveau films she'd gotten into recently, and Elsie had spent hours doing her best to add graphics that seemed bright and approachable without looking too childish. She'd even linked report lines for student support with her female students in mind, hoping that her male students wouldn’t be able to get away with casual misogynistic jabs about women in STEM.
However, in a much more real way, Elsie felt as though she hadn’t prepared at all. She wasn’t sure it was possible at all for anyone to ever be prepared for Jack Smith Turner. There was something about him that seemed to cut straight through crowds, and more concerningly, cut through her, and Elsie would be lying if it didn’t leave her stomach doing flips every time.
She had expected Jack to be as polished as ever, but oddly enough, it seemed as though he felt similarly to her when he did arrive. He’d been almost as early as she was, but in an I’ve-been-in-a-manic-episode-of-stress-and-anxiety-since-three-in- the-morning way, which she found strangely endearing, considering that he was usually so unbothered that she’d taken to referring to him as “The Ice King” when complaining to Cece late at night. She had to tell herself not to humanize the enemy, Elsie, but it was so hard not to when he was dropping papers, tugging at his clothes, and pushing glasses up his nose that she swore he didn’t have before. For the first time in the four years she had known him, Elsie was beginning to wonder whether Jack had secretly had a soul all along. At least twenty minutes worth of rustling paper and furious typing passed before Elsie finally attempted to address the years-long-feud-shaped elephant in the room.
“I was thinking that we should split and alternate the labs,” Elsie blurted, and as the words left her lips she was immediately hit with the overwhelming urge to pull the words back and rearrange them until they sounded less strange and awkward, more poised and polished, and less like someone who had been obsessively fixating on how to best organize the course for days now.
Jack looked startled for a moment at the break in their carefully curated silence, but his features were schooled back into neutrality so quickly that Elsie wondered whether he had ever not had such a blank look on his face. “I’m sorry?”
“We should split the lab class into two groups, and alternate the experiments week to week. Then we can make the most of having two TAs, and…” She trailed off, eyes flicking away from Jack’s. “And we won’t step on each other’s toes. You won’t have to deal with me inserting theory into everything, and I won’t have to deal with your experimental whatnot. It can be like we were never stuck with each other at all.”
Jack’s eyebrows furrowed, emotion pooling in those same piercing eyes. He neatly tucked the sprawled papers in front of him into a metal-tipped navy blue folder, the same color as the waffle-fabricked Henley that had been pulling at Elsie’s attention since he had pushed through the door that morning. Elsie watched his motions almost nervously, drawn to those strong-looking hands as they dwarfed everything they picked up. “Whatever you need, Elsie,” He said simply, eyes flitting everywhere but her. His voice was flat- not happy, but not angry either. Merely unbothered, and overwhelmingly neutral.
Right then, I guess the thought of barely having to co-teach with me is so appealing that he’s ready to start pretending I’m not here already.
Elsie did her best to ignore the bitter aftertaste of her thoughts, the way something sparked in her at his indifference. Before she could say something she would almost certainly regret, the door creaked open, the hinges themselves sounding hesitant to disturb the fragile tension that hung suspended over the room. Elsie whirled toward the door, excitement spiking in her chest when her eyes landed on the girl standing nervously in the doorway, backlit by the weak fluorescence of the hallway and front-lit by the early morning sunlight streaming through the mahogany benches of the second-floor lecture hall.
She was tall, somehow both lanky and elegant, and the way she moved as she slowly approached the front desk reminded Elsie of a baby deer, all long legs and big brown eyes. Those same eyes were framed in thick black lashes, and her dark brown hair, curled and straightened in a perfect blowout, bounced around her shoulders and cascaded down her back in a shiny effortless-looking wave that made Elsie wish she had sprung for a nicer conditioner the last time she was stocking up. The girl couldn’t have been older than 17 or 18, but she looked polished beyond her years in a way Elsie could only dream of being.
Elsie was momentarily trapped in a spiral of thoughts on how much less put together her own first-year self had been in comparison, but was quickly broken out when the girl’s impossibly white sneakers squeaked to a stop in front of her. “I’m Ivy, Ivy Myers, I’m… um, here for Physics,” she paused, her eyes flitting downward to double check the Google Maps page she had pulled up on her phone, “...100?”
Elsie’s mind began whirring, scanning the girl. Nervousness. Tended toward perfectionism, if the flawlessly coiffed hair and perfectly pleated skirt were any indicator. Curiously, the books tucked under her arm were on various historical eras- Medieval History (Carolingian-Era Conflict), said one, while another was titled, The Masculinization of Women’s Medicine through Early France, the spines colored in complementary shades of deep pinks and blues.
Perfect. Interests to appeal to.
Elsie beamed, adopting a bubbly tone as she adjusted her posture from tired, overworked-TA to cheerleader-off-duty. She figured that considering how shy Ivy seemed, she might mesh a bit better with someone willing to go out of their way to make her feel comfortable. “Oh my gosh, I love the Carolingian era!”
“Really?” Ivy beamed, her eyes lighting up.
“...Really?” Jack lifted an eyebrow, and Elsie shot him a glare over her shoulder, bristling at his incredulous tone. Okay, maybe she wasn’t really into the Carolingian era, and in fact knew absolutely nothing about it, but Jack certainly didn’t know that, and she was strangely irritated at him for behaving as if he knew anything about her or her interests.
Ivy continued on, unbothered by the tense exchange between the two TAs. “I’m, um, actually a History major. The Arts advisors told me that I needed to take a science class to fulfill a requirement, so…” Ivy shrugged. “Here I am.” She bit her lip, looking off to the side somewhat. “I… I was just hoping to come in early to ask the two of you some questions?”
Elsie and Jack exchanged a sidelong look, their gazes filled with confusion rather than anger for once as they attempted to communicate their mutual skepticism telepathically. “We haven’t assigned any of the readings or practice problems yet,” Jack said, and his tone was gentle in a way that Elsie had never heard before. It was strangely sweet, hearing his voice at a low, placating rumble. “So there’s no need to-”
“I bought the textbook ahead of time.” Ivy tugged a folder filled with neatly done practice problems out from in between the history books she still clutched under her arm, and Elsie could see that some were highlighted with question marks and hastily scrawled notes in pink sparkly pen. “I know what science students think of people in humanities programs, and I didn’t want to give anyone any reason to think any less of me, so…” She trailed off again, but Elsie had heard enough that her heart broke a little for this perfectly polished girl and her need to defend her intelligence against a hypothetical room of science students who all thought less of her. Her lips parted to say something, anything to comfort her new student, but Jack beat her to the punch.
“If anyone in this class gives you a hard time, or anyone in the program for that matter, please don’t hesitate to come to me. Elitism has no place in the sciences, and it certainly has no place in our classroom.” He looked to Elsie for confirmation and she nodded quickly, somewhat stunned at the intensity of his tone. Here he was, the face of all experimental physicists who thought themselves better than theorists, and yet, he was taking a hard stance against elitism, against self-superiority. Elsie couldn’t quite tell if he was merely a walking contradiction, or if she had misjudged him just a bit too harshly.
“And Ivy?” He continued, leaning down slightly to meet her eyes properly. “You’re putting in more work on the first day than most of the people in this class will this whole year. Don’t forget that. You deserve a seat in this classroom just as much as anyone else.” He looked as though he would’ve continued, but the door creaked open yet again, this time making way for a flood of buzzing first-years scrambling to find seats and compare Rate My Prof scores.
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hi!!! i'm quill 🕯an a03 writer trying to figure out an entirely new platform!!she/her
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