In The Aviation World, They Don't Use AM/PM Times. Instead, All Times Are Assumed To Be AM Unless They're

to be honest, in my head i've been imagining that the admin of this account is a literal fish who somehow got a phone and a tumblr account and i'm ashamed to admit that my first thought seeing this was "how did the fish get into a sorority"💀

told one of my sorority sisters that im official fish posts and she's heard of me? like she's not on tumblr but she's seen screenshots of my posts! it was really cool!

god gives his toughest battles (staying humble and not being insanely annoying about it) to his strongest soldiers (me after receiving approximately 3 likes on my tumblr post)

little guard dog. grrrr bark bark

the way it looks like he's reaching up to her GOD i'm crying and screaming and throwing up like 😭🤍 gosh what they have is so beautiful, prettiest & most powerful couple EVERRRR

I had no idea these two arts were official 😭

Ocean and Moon, Tui and La ❤

Drawn by Bryan Konietzko (co-creator of Avatar!)

we don't talk enough about how often katara saves aang. like she fully figured out how to pull water from somebody's LUNGS for him. ugh i love her!!!!

the following is an excerpt from my kataang multichapter fic called "the teenager in the iceberg", where aang is aged up to 16 in order to flip him and katara's dynamic into she falls first, he falls harder. this is from chapter four, which JUST DROPPED TODAY!!:D <3

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

 She watched in horror as dark fins began to rise from the water, and Aang looked back at her with fear in his eyes. He rose from the water, struggling to hold on to the shiny scales of the Unagi. The beast’s head rose out of the water alongside its torso, and it tipped its head curiously at the sight of Aang on its back, baring its teeth as it did. Aang jumped, swinging on the creature’s whiskers, trying to evade its sword-sized teeth. Without notice, it snapped its jaws open, unnaturally wide to the point of unhinging, and a concentrated jet of water shot out of its throat, sending Aang flying across the bay towards Katara. Even from the distance she was at, she could see that his body had landed wrong, unnatural, crumpled.

“AANG!” She shouted, wading into the water as quickly as she could, hoping with all her will that she could somehow outrun this ancient serpent hell bent on getting to Aang before she could. Aang didn’t stir. Against her own pessimistic judgement of their odds of survival, Katara somehow managed to scoop Aang against her, holding him tight. He was unconscious, and she couldn’t see if he was breathing. Another bolt of fear struck through her. Through blurry vision made hazy by fear and anger, Katara watched the Unagi rear its head again, but instead of holding Aang against her and waiting for their inevitable end, she struck back.

It happened so quickly, the wave of water that mirrored the rising tide of anger crashing through Katara’s own body. Her hand moved as if she wasn’t in complete control, and perhaps she wasn’t. Perhaps the spirits of water had looked kindly upon the two kindred souls. Or perhaps, Katara had simply moved in accordance with what the pure adrenaline that seemed to replace her very blood demanded. 

The two of them were thrown backwards, Katara’s wave of water pushing them to the safety of the shore. She allowed herself only a second to catch her breath before rolling over to check on Aang.

Still, the Airbender did not stir.

“Aang. Please , wake up.”

He did not breathe.

She closed her eyes, running her hand along his chest, the heat that normally radiated from him snuffed out entirely. She could feel water there, in his lungs, weighing them down. The wrongness of it . She could feel the liquid tugging at her, the molecules themselves wishing to return to the ocean from whence they came.

She obliged them.

Katara coaxed out a thin tendril of the seawater, watching nervously as Aang shuddered involuntarily as the stream of liquid flowed through his lips. He coughed. Coughed again.

Another cough, and his eyes opened, and she was met with the comforting vibrance of his storm-cloud eyes. 

“K-Katara,” He managed, the words strained by salt and sea. “Don’t ride the Unagi. Not fun .”

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

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

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˗

for everyone reblogging this and saying they suddenly want a 16 year old aang fic i in fact have been writing one that updates weekly!!!

check it out here!! ->

au where Aang gets told he's the Avatar (and subsequently frozen) at 16 like he was supposed to.... I think it would change a lot honestly

i think they would understand each other 😌

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

did anybody else ever really want to know what happened those few weeks when aang was in his coma? we have it briefly summarized for us, but we never really get to see healer katara and how difficult it must have been for her to keep trying week after week only for aang to remain unconconsious?? plus the amount she would have had to work on her healing abilities and push her knowledge to her limits??? i don't typically write very much kataangst (see what i did there??), but i made an exception for this in-progress fic concept. i present to you some bits and pieces of "i'm no longer a kid, and everything has changed":

---

Katara felt the same flood of emotion that had washed over her as her mother fell as she watched Aang crumple and crash to the ground, Azula’s lighting still blazing through his body. For a second, she was back in her tent from years ago in the Southern Water Tribe, trying to waterbend to save her mother, only to realize that she had doomed her. Katara hadn't been able to believe it was real, even when the cloth-covered body’s arm was still wrapped in the bracelet Katara had made her in school only days before. Even when she saw the familiar necklace around her mother's neck.

Even when she had clasped the same necklace around her own neck. 

Seeing Aang now, she felt powerless, again, despite all that she had worked through, despite the skills she had gained. Fury rushed through her, and suddenly, she didn’t care who she hurt, who she got in the way of. It didn’t matter. They didn’t matter. He did. She had to get to him.

---

He wasn’t moving. He wasn’t moving. That was all she could think about, even as Sokka and Toph joined them, twin looks of horror on their faces as she quickly briefed them on the situation.

---

I know I can’t exactly… see it, but…” Toph said, solemnly. “Twinkle-toes looks… seems ... a bit…worse for wear.”

“Can you monitor his heartbeat?” Katara nervously ran her hands through the air above Aang's body. “I’m probably going to need to attempt something a bit experimental. I need to know if I need to stop, if it hurts him.”

“Is this the best idea?” Toph raised an eyebrow sceptically. Katara rested a hand on her lap, hanging her head slightly. “It’s the only idea I have.” Toph nodded sharply, as if she had just received orders, and rested her hand lightly on Aang’s upper arm. 

“Heartbeat steady.” She confirmed. “But something’s wrong with his breathing pattern. His lungs aren’t receiving enough blood, I think.” Katara exhaled, shakily, wracking her mind for something that could work. Her thoughts were cut off by the squeak of boots against metal, echoing from the doorway.

Her and Toph turned sharply, nervous that they were harbouring a Fire Nation stowaway, only to visibly relax when they realized it was only Sokka, joining them after setting the ship on its course. “If his blood is a liquid,” Sokka mused, crouching beside Aang,

“Couldn’t you… bend it, Katara?”

♥ check out the completed fic on my ao3:) ->