They Really Saw The Pacifist Monk And Said This Right Here Is A Pure Blooded Patriotic Citizen Of The

BUT MIND YOUUUUU!!!!! when ali hazelwood's book comes out later this (next?) week, i'm dropping everything i have to read it.

just found out my dad listened to a podcast on fanfiction so he can better understand one of my interests i’m going to cry 🥹🥺🫶

*starts talking about kataang* they are kids *starts crying* fighting a war. *sobs uncontrollably* THEY ARE THE LAST BENDERS OF THEIR HOMES *falls on the ground* THEY FELL IN LOVE.

me every time i think my upload schedule is going to be consistent again

THIS IS NOW POSTEDDDD 😚 HOPE U ENJOY THE NEW FIC <3

lines from my WIP:

what if jack & elsie from love, theoretically met as rival undergraduates, and were forced to co-TA a first-year physics class?

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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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♥ i'm working on making a full one-shot of this, and my ao3 is here if you'd like to stick around for it to come out:) ->

˗ˏˋquillthrills on ao3ˎˊ˗

now that ao3 is back up, boy oh boy do i have a fic rec for you!!!!

i get that the comics are meant to fill that gap between atla and lok, but i feel like we've always been missing that moment where katara and aang actually formally confess their feelings and talk about everything they had been through. with how mature both of them are, it feels somewhat... unrealistic to me that we're never shown that moment where they talk it all out, after three (3!!!) whole seasons of buildup >:(

this fic was inspired by me wanting to show the moment when aang and katara are finally free from the responsibilities placed on them by the war!!!<3

OR: Aang wakes up the morning after him and his friends saved the entire world, and the first (and only) thing he can think about is Katara. When they get a chance to talk, the two take a walk down memory lane.

---

“Is it ok if I ask you something? While we’re on the topic of… us kissing?” Aang asked, hesitantly. 

Katara nodded. She had a feeling that she knew where this was going. “Ember Island?”

“Yeah.” He breathed. “We never got to… talk about that. After we kissed at the invasion, there was never a moment alone, and I do recognize now that Ember Island wasn’t the right time to bring it up, and I shouldn’t have sprung all of that on you. It wasn’t fair for me to ask you to make such a big statement. It wasn’t right for me to be so demanding. I felt ridiculously jealous over the implication that you were interested in Zuko, and I… well, I reacted poorly. I really am sorry for that.”

“I appreciate you saying that.”

He continued. “But, if you don’t mind me asking… what did you mean when you said you felt confused?”

Katara sighed, drawing water from the lake and tossing it between her hands idly. “I still don’t quite get it, even now. I think the best way to describe it was that I was in fight or flight, locked into survival mode. I did have feelings for you, and I knew that, but I just couldn’t let myself be vulnerable like that at a time like that. I guess that I was worried that if we started something, it’d be a weakness for the both of us. It felt too selfish to distract ourselves from the greater mission at hand when the world was at stake.”

“Ah.” Aang said, thinking it over as the pieces began to click together. “That… that makes a lot of sense.”

Katara continued. “If we’re both being honest, you do have a history of… avoidance, Aang. Giving into my feelings for you felt like it would mean enabling that bad habit of yours, and it seemed like the world needed you more than I did.”

---

Katara fought the blush spreading rapidly across her cheeks as the two leaned closer together. “Do you remember making that necklace for me out of fishing twine? So I could have a placeholder while Zuko had my mother’s necklace?”

He only nodded in response, her proximity rendering him entirely incapable of producing coherent speech. “I still have it. I don’t think you realize how much that meant to me.” She laughed, lost in memory for a second. “The way you looked at me when I put it on… and Sokka said you were acting like you were in love, and I… called you a good friend?”

“Mhm?” Aang asked, about as close to her as he could be without her lips on his. “What… what about it?”

"I don't want us to just be... good friends, not anymore." She took a deep breath, her voice wavering with nerves.

I think we were meant to be more than that." Katara breathed.

---

♥ the rest of the (completed) fic can be found here!! ->

sooo.... anyone else ever wondered how different ATLA would have been if aang had been frozen at age 16 instead of age 12?

yeah... me too 😌 my new fanfic "the teenager in the iceberg" follows the events of the show, but with only aang aged up, while everyone else remains their canon age.

also...cmon....how funny is it to switch zuko and aang's iconic dialogue to "you're just a teenager!" "...so are you?"

this idea was originally inspired by the talented @allgremlinart's aged up aang drawings, so please go show them some love!!:)<3

enjoy the excerpts from chapters one and two!

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Aang chuckled, pushing himself up with his hands on his knees. He was… taller than Katara had realised, taller than Sokka. He rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, turning to look over his shoulder at the remains of the boulder-sized chunk of ice he had just been blasted out of.  “Aang. My name’s Aang.” He hesitated, momentarily seeming to puzzle something over. “And honestly? No clue. Don’t remember how me and…Appa!” He yelped, suddenly scrambling back over the hill of ice and snow. Katara followed him without thinking, and Sokka, grumbling under his breath, followed moments later. 

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“So, you’ve brought a monster to invade the village, then? You’re some incognito Fire Nation soldier sent in as an undercover scout? Well, I’ll have you know that I’m the village’s strongest warrior, a-”

“The only warrior,” Katara chimed in, lightly elbowing Sokka’s side, earning herself a responding glare. 

“The strongest warrior.” Sokka reiterated. “And I don’t much like firebenders.” He added the words pointedly.

“Ah.” Aang titled his head. “That’s a shame. Some of my closest friends are Fire Nation.”

“Of course they are,” Sokka glared, hunching over into a defensive position and adjusting his fishing spear until it pointed directly at Aang.

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Katara still wasn’t quite sure what to make of Aang. The Water Tribe boys had always been all flashy muscles, seal-jerky breath, and overconfidence, so Katara had never seen someone move, carry themself, the way Aang did. 

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Katara had admittedly forgotten how much fun penguin sledding was. “Spirits, I haven’t done this since I was a kid!” she called to Aang as he raced past her, surprisingly skilled considering that he’d never even seen a penguin until half an hour before. 

“You still are a kid!” He called back over his shoulder. “A kid who’s losing this race, badly !”

Katara’s competitive streak reared its head, her eyes narrowing as Aang stuck out his tongue. She sat up slightly, no longer gripping the penguin’s fur as tightly. “You wish!” She shouted back the words as she raised her hands, breathing deeply. Her hands moved through the positions she had practised from the few bending scrolls the tribe still held on to, and before Aang knew it, the snow in front of Katara turned to ice, and she shot past him as his own ice trail suddenly became dry snow with too much friction to slide on. 

She made it to the bottom of the hill, beaming, breathing heavily. The wind had whipped her hair out of her bun, and she knew without checking that her hair must have looked like a lion-turtle’s mane. She watched as Aang made a show of drying himself off with a gust of wind that he then redirected at her, messing up her curls even more. 

“You’re a cheater !” Aang gasped, mockingly clutching imaginary pearls at his throat. “I demand a rematch.”

Katara strode past him, only turning her head to cast him a smug smirk. “Maybe you’re just not as good of a penguin sledder as you thought .”

“Oh, not so fast!” Aang grabbed her wrist, tugging her back towards him, and she internally questioned why the momentary brush of their skin made her heart flip. He tried to trip her, she tried to flip him, and they both ended up on their backs in the snow, giggling, cheeks and noses bright pink from the cold. 

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“Trouble sleeping too, huh?” Aang cocked a grin, tilting his head to Katara. She kept her eyes fixed upwards, trained on the moon and the stars, worried that if she looked away, she’d end up staring into his eyes like a weirdo. 

“I always feel so awake with the moon’s light on me. Sleeping under the stars has never really been a thing that works. It’s too energising, too… too much. It’s hard to explain.”

“No, no… I get it. I feel the same way in a windstorm, all those breezes and gusts of wind, it feels… exhilarating.” She watched through her peripheral vision as he looked up at the moon. “In times of war, I think we all tend to forget how spiritual bending is at its core. I’d say it’s a good thing that you’re in touch enough with the origins of your abilities to feel the moon’s pull tug at you just as much as it does on the ocean.” 

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Aang smiled back. “Now is our time to try to make up for that. I can’t bring back everyone who was hurt in this war, and you can’t bring back your mother, but together, the two-, three of us can make sure it doesn’t happen to anyone else.”

“I’d like that,” Katara exhaled, her breath calming down and tears dissipating. The two spent hours talking back and forth, exchanging the stories of their respective childhoods. Katara learned that Aang had invented several new bending moves and had been a big fan of fruit pies, while Aang learned that Katara had always been the bossier one between her and Sokka and that she had almost chipped a tooth on seal jerky when she was six. They continued talking back and forth in increasingly hushed tones until the world faded away under the cover of clouds and sleep.

Katara awoke to the loud shout of her brother. 

“Wakey wakey, lovebirds!” he yelped, chucking a rock-hard stick of seal jerky at both of them. 

“Ouch, Sokka !” Katara snapped at him, rubbing her head at the spot where she had been hit, before realising that she was leaning against Aang and immediately jumping away, blushing furiously. 

♥ check out the two chapters of this (ongoing) fic & my ao3 here! ->

THE FIRST CHAPTER IS UP NOW ON Ao3!!! FEEL FREE TO CHECK IT OUT :D

art credits<3: @l-a-l-o-u

ever wanted kataang as a little mermaid retelling, with a bit of an extra romantasy twist?

i present- "you with the dark curls, you with the watercolor eyes"

years ago, the spirits tui and la split the earth between the sky and the sea. however, they did not lose all hope for the rejoining of earth's peoples- tui blessed one avian a generation with the gifts of the mighty avatar, while la carefully selected one siren to grow into the role of the painted lady. the two were their little sliver of hope- hope that one day, the siren and the air-rider would fulfill their destiny, would find a way to reunite the tribes, would be able to root out the poison seeping through the land.

OR: a KATAANG AU where aang is a winged avian and katara is a siren!!!

the following are excerpts from this in-progress work: <3

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Avatar Aang had been told time and time again that to venture across the surface of the sea when the moon had risen and claimed what rightfully belonged to it was to sign your own death certificate. 

And yet, he found himself here, at the water’s edge, skipping stones, lost in thought.

To be the Avatar had once meant something, years before. Before the four tribes had separated, scattered to the ends of the earth. Those who formed fire itself chased the other tribes from the surface lands, those who could move rock and metal burrowed underground, those who flowed with the air sent ships with great sails across the sea until they reached towering mountain spires.

Those who bent water, who bent blood… they retreated to the depths of the sea, and with time, they became a part of it. Legend told of the way in which the Water tribes had adapted, two legs smoothed into razor sharp scales and voices twisted into something dark and luring.

Now, they were the monsters known as sirens.

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As if in answer, the winds of the sea whispered back his own song, the melody made haunted. He made to turn himself away, to find shelter for the night, but that very whispering gave him pause. There was a different quality about it, something feminine, not simply his own voice reflected back. His instincts told him to duck, to crawl, and he did, bracing himself against a stone at the beach’s edge. The sound was louder here. He turned around the rock, wincing in anticipation…

…Only to be met with the sight of the most beautiful woman he had ever had the pleasure of seeing. He understood all at once why so many men had fallen prey to the charms of the siren.

 For this girl to even gift him a wayward glance, he would build a temple. A religion. 

She looked like a painting come to life, a sculpture kissed by the spirits themselves.

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

 “I thought that sirens made a point of dragging Airriders to the depths of the ocean long before either party exchanged names.”

“Did you truly think so little of me?”

“The legends seem to think very little of you, at least. Me? I’m still making up my mind.” Aang tossed her a teasing grin.

“You seem fairly calm for a man who believes his fate to be sealed.” Katara raised her eyebrows, crossing her slender arms over one another.

“If my destiny is to spend the last few moments of my life at the side of such a lovely enchantress, who am I to fight it?”

“Handsome and a charmer. Is that your plan, to lull and seduce me into a sense of false security so that you can send a blast of air at my gills and leave me stranded in the bay?”

“If I’m remembering correctly, you are meant to be the lulling seductress of the two of us.”

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

He smiled down at her, reaching out to take her hand in his and press his lips against her perfect skin. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Katara.”

She pushed herself up off of her elbows, reaching up to brush her lips against his cheek. “The pleasure has been all mine, Airrider Aang.” With that, she slipped back under the waves of the sea, and Aang was left to wonder if the entire exchange of words had been nothing more than the spirited imaginings of a madman stranded and drowned at sea.

♥ if you want to stick around for this to come out, feel free to head over to my ao3 here! ->

AO3 MY BELOVED COME BACKKKKK