Chapter Text
NEW: Building a legacy: Lao Beifong library opens on campus
Building a legacy: Lao Beifong library opens on campus
News • Campus Life
by Jet Thanh— Senior Managing Editor | August 23, 20XX
After a year of construction, Ba Sing Se University declares the Lao Beifong library complete, open for use on Monday.
With an alumni network as large and influential as Ba Sing Se's, the university represents both its current and graduated classes proudly, serving as an alma mater to returning donors.
For lawyer and top donor, Lao Beifong, the library is a way to give back to the community and foster a positive learning environment.
"It is an honor to be able to leave my mark on the school like this," Beifong said. "My best days were spent studying with my friends, and I hope to recreate that for the coming generations."
Following the demolition of the Wang Shi Tong library, this is the first of many construction projects to come, with an accompanying animal sanctuary in development.
"It is very important for our campus to reflect all the beauty that can be found in our academics," Ba Sing Se University President Long Feng said. "The new library is the first of many steps toward keeping our campus as pristine as our test scores."
Beifong's multi-generational connection to the school is what opened the door for the renovation plans.
"My grandfather and father both attended Ba Sing Se," Beifong said. "My daughter is a fourth generation legacy, and this is my gift to her and everyone who will come after. The pride I feel is immense, and I hope that the student body feels the same."
The four-story library will contain a meal-plan friendly dining square, a testing accommodation center, and state of the art three-dimensional printers. While priority for current Federal Work-Study applicants will be exercised, students are encouraged to apply for all available positions.
— Jet Thanh is a senior forensics science and public relations double major. Outside of criminal justice and editorial writing, Jet enjoys playing tennis, watching local theatre, and equestrian riding. Following graduation, he plans to pursue a career in freelance travel writing, detailing injustice in areas lacking appropriate coverage.
📰
The first week of classes is a logistical nightmare. Katara thinks her head might just fall off with how dense it feels on her shoulders, tipping her off her axis.
To start, she stupidly made the choice to be a learning assistant for the Intro to Editing course, as if she doesn't already have her hands full with her own classes and the literal fucking paper she is running.
And of course, she loves the underclassmen—especially this one freshman who would be an amazing fit for The Monument, assuming that the campus magazine doesn't snatch her up first—but she can already tell that this is going to be more of a time commitment than she had originally thought. Luckily, it's just for the fall semester, so her main tactic right now is simply survival.
It's only syllabus week, but she can already tell that her Law & Ethics of Journalism course will be her hardest. It's taught by Professor Pakku, who has known and looked after her for three years, and she's still keenly aware that she probably won't be getting any kind of leniency afforded to her. Readings and assignments that add up to around 150 pages a week is, for lack of a better word, insane. But she had begged him for a classification override that lets her take it a year early, so she refuses to drop the course.
Haru had looked at her like she had two heads when she rattled off her course load for the year, but she knew it was necessary if she wanted to give herself the best senior year possible.
The Republic is a selective and globally renowned publication that takes on two lucky interns in their final year of undergrad. The best of the best congregate at an office right off Lake Laogai, honing their skills and bringing their expertise to the table.
They have a 100% job placement success rate for former interns, whether that be at another organization, or hiring for internal positions. Anyone who cares about journalism at the professional level is gunning for some kind of job there.
Katara is no different. She's been dreaming about her very own office at The Republic since her Reporting & Writing class took a field trip to their headquarters her freshman year, fumbling over her words as their tour guide asked what she wanted to specialize in. Tall window panes and shiny floors, bean bag chairs and fidget toys, glistening press badges on lanyards. Katara wanted it bad, and that burning desire has only grown into something unquenchable.
She will set foot in that building. She has to.
Which is why she's taking such intensive courses this year, hoping to a) get the hardest stuff out of the way so that she can focus all her energy into her internship, and b) to build a jaw droppingly impressive portfolio as a junior. She's already got state and national awards to her name, but she needs to put together something that will kill any doubt that she wouldn't be an asset to their team.
Plus, if she can really turn some heads, then they'll have no choice but to keep her on after she graduates, kick starting the natural chain of ascension from intern to staff writer to editor to editor-in-chief. It would be her third time becoming EIC (though she had to share the role with two other people in high school), and good things tend to come in threes.
Knock, knock, knock.
Except when they come in the form of knocks on her office door. That is usually a bad sign.
"Come in," Katara shouts, not looking up from her screen.
Today is a staff workshop day, with all the members of the paper coming in to confirm and/or pitch their ideas for any content that requires an upload schedule (columns, podcasts, etc). Thursdays are the only day where she has no classes, so she appreciates the small breather, especially with their first real meeting coming up tomorrow.
The door opens sharply, and Katara looks up from her desk in alarm before her expression sours at who she sees standing before her.
"Katara," the last person she wants to see right now, says.
"Jet."
"Good to see you're getting comfortable," Jet says, arms crossed as he takes in her extensively decorated office. He's the only editor who has yet to see the inside, and she was hoping to keep it that way for as long as humanly possible.
"What do you want," she sighs, already put off.
"What, I can't just say hi to my new editor-in-chief?"
Katara raises a brow. "You told Pakku to make anyone but me EIC. You 'demanded a recount' after he sent out the email."
"That was three months ago! You've really got to stop holding on to things like that."
An unfettered rage starts pressing behind her eyes, threatening to blossom into a full blown headache if she doesn't end this interaction as soon as possible.
"Jet. Why are you here?"
He sighs as he drops into the chair on the other side of her desk, bracing his elbows on the table. "I'm here because I'm pissed. You're sticking me with fluff pieces and preventing me from having a podcast because you hate me. I know we aren't exactly friends, but this is pretty low, even for you."
Katara scoffs so hard that some of her hair comes undone from her claw clip. "Excuse me?"
"I'm good at what I do, Katara. You have to admit that I'm above stupid shit like campus life."
Resisting the urge to rub at her temples and then lob her thermos at his head, Katara takes a deep breath. She can't start off her year with an assault charge, and she still has to finalize the details for their booth at the student fair on Saturday. She doesn't have time for this to escalate.
"I did not assign you campus life because I hate you," she says, sticking her finger in his face. "Don't get me wrong, I do. Get that on video and put it in writing, I can't stand you. However, you're one of our managing editors for a reason. You're in charge of our biggest section because that's where we need the most coverage, and you're quick enough to get a couple of easy pieces done in under an hour. You're not condemned to small news stories forever, I just know I can count on you to get your shit done."
Jet's eyes widen, like he can't believe that she has anything nice to say about him. While it's true that she has an entire notes app document dedicated to his transgressions against her, she's not one to sell someone short just because of personal conflicts.
At least not anymore: it's a mark of maturity that she's struggled to obtain, but she can finally embrace it.
"Wow, Katara, that's…really nice of you."
"It's objective, not nice," she corrects matter-of-factly, crossing her arms. "As for the podcast thing, I just thought it might be too much of a time commitment for an editor that's stretched as thin as you. It's nothing personal."
Being professional in the face of resentment and anger is always a struggle, but Katara refuses to let anything get in the way of being the best leader and editor she can be, even if that means being nice to staff members she can't stand. Jet included.
The senior sits back in his chair, looking her up and down like she's something to be appraised, sizing her up. Once upon a time, looks like that gave her a rush—now she feels absolutely nothing. Disgust, if anything.
"I love seeing you in that shirt."
Katara frowns at the sharp conversational pivot, recognizing that she's wearing merch for a local indie band that they both like. It was where they'd had their first of many dates, back when she was more than Jet's friend, but not good enough to be his girlfriend. When most of her free time was spent crying and filling up journals, then smiling any time he was in her vicinity.
A nightmare that she refuses to relive.
"I've been considering burning it, so don't get too attached to the sight. Are we done here?"
Jet tsks, chewing on a piece of gum as he stands up, realizing that his charms no longer have any effect on her. "I guess we are."
"Good. Fill out the volunteer form for Saturday, and get out of my office."
"Bossy, bossy."
"You know it," she smiles, waving him off. "Shut the door."
📰
The Jasmine Dragon is the best right-off-campus teahouse in town. Between being a study spot, hangout, and generally well-loved cafe, Sokka and Katara had immediately fallen in love with it when he was a freshman and she was a visiting high school senior.
Decorated in various vibrant shades of green, it feels like a never ending barrage of spring, from the flowers that dangle in suspended pots to the natural light flooding in from the windows. It's perfect.
It's now their go-to spot to satiate their caffeine addictions, never overwhelmingly busy unless it's finals season, and they make it a point to meet up at least once a week to chat at their favorite table.
Not to mention that one of Sokka's best friends and ex-roommate, Zuko, is the nephew of the owner, making sure to see that they use his employee discount more than he ever will.
Originally, Katara had hated him—he was stuck-up and rude, and working for The Monument alongside her, forcing Jet to keep the peace between them (a dark, dark time for everyone involved)—but they'd learn to get along over time, especially following his departure from the paper. He'd only joined to continue the extracurricular interest he'd had in high school, desperately trying to get his father's attention for his accomplishments. Eventually he realized that there was no pleasing him, and became way more fun to be around.
It's a bit of a shame, Zuko is a really good writer, but the literature department seems to suit him a lot better. He'd always preferred writing feature stories anyway, because those yielded the most opportunity for creative storytelling. Hard news is all facts and figures, and Professor Pakku had said it best: truth matters way more than image ever will.
"How can you possibly drink that much caffeine," Zuko asks in disbelief, watching as Katara kills her iced latte from the Beifong library coffee shop, only to start sipping at the matcha that Zuko just made her before clocking out. "You're genuinely going to die at thirty."
"Thank you for the lecture, grandpa, I appreciate it," she snarks back. "If you want to kill me faster, just keep talking."
Zuko rolls his eyes as Sokka plops down in his own seat, brows furrowed. He'd just gotten up to toss his own drink, finishing quicker than Katara, but got no kind of reprimand.
Sokka's fingers fly across his keys at an unbelievable speed, tapping so hard that his screen might crack if he adds even a tad more pressure.
"You good?"
Sokka's attention shifts up from his phone with a startled look, like he wasn't just trying to throttle his phone. Both Zuko and Katara stare at him with concerned expressions, wondering what's got him so wound up.
"Yeah, it's just—it's one of my kids."
Zuko blinks in confusion. "Did I miss an update? Like, a really important one?"
"He means one of the boys he's an RA for," Katara clarifies. "God forbid that this guy of all people procreates."
Zuko nods. "That's scary to think about."
"Both of you shut up, I'd be an awesome dad," Sokka says defensively. "I'm gonna have twin girls and they will grow up to rule the fucking world. Anyway, the building got a new lock system, and it looks like it's not accepting his ID for some reason. I'm trying to walk him through the process of resetting it."
"Can't he just get help from someone in the front office?"
"Yeah, but this kid's pretty anxious. I'm trying to make sure he doesn't have a break down in my absence."
Zuko and Katara share another look as she continues to sip at her drink, tapping her nail against the table awkwardly. They've mastered the art of eye-gossip, non verbally communicating seamlessly. It's almost laughable how quickly they can convey a point just with a glance.
"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"
"You're doing the thing."
"What thing?"
"The mother hen thing. You're helicopter parenting, and they're not even your actual kids."
Sokka squawks in protest. "I am not!"
"It's not an insult," Zuko says, raising his hands up in a non threatening manner. "You're just kind of a control freak."
"Oh, like either of you have any room to talk! Katara is literally refreshing her email every ten seconds to see if anyone at the paper has sent anything."
"Deflecting," she rebuts. "I can admit that I have a problem. And in my defense, you have both been inside of the newsroom before. You know I have every reason to worry!"
Katara's eyes dart to her screen against her will. While her attention is usually centered solely on work, her current fixation is actually opening Instagram every ten seconds to see if a certain someone has slid into her DMs. He has not.
She could care less.
No really, she could care less. She's thought about this for the better part of a week and it's starting to drive her mad.
It only took Aang half an hour to accept her follow request, granting access to 20 different picture dumps, featuring about 10 solo photos of him total across the board.
Not that she's counted or anything.
Okay, fine, she has stalked the shit out of him. There's plenty of pictures illustrating what his life looks like outside of crowded frat parties: skateboarding, traveling, sketching, attending concerts. But the actual number of selfies she was able to find pales in comparison.
He also has a somewhat large following, and it had freaked Katara out at first. Why does he have seven thousand people on a private account?
Aang seems like a carefree and artsy spirit, which totally aligns with the version of him that lives in her memories. Humorous and attentive and so fucking charming.
Katara has spent an unhealthy amount of time thinking about someone she only knew for a few hours while drunk off her ass. It's so embarrassing that she refuses to tell anyone about it, a secret that rolls around like a marble in her chest. Suki's the only person who even witnessed her with Aang, and she hasn't mentioned it since.
And yes, she could text him first, but it's the principle! He's the one who didn't ask for any way to contact her, then went out of his way to go looking for her Instagram. The ball is fully in his court! He should be the one to state his intentions!
Also, she's really fucking nervous and doesn't want to ruin whatever image of her he's created in his drunken haze. She wishes she knew what he was expecting from her.
Tuning back into the conversation is like watching a tense ping pong match, where Zuko and Sokka have started teasing each other about something that she can't bring herself to care about. They've always been good at back and forth.
It gets to a point eventually, though. "Hey, lovebirds," Katara says, snapping her fingers to grab their attention. "This is sweet and all, but remember that we're here for a reason."
Both Sokka and Zuko tilt their heads like confused puppies. They're so in sync that it's disgusting.
"Gossiping?"
"Telling Zuko to get a haircut?"
"Hey, fuck off."
"Guys," Katara says.
"Your bangs are so grown out that you can't even see!"
"I can see just fine! You, however, never wear your glasses—"
"Guys," she says again, this time with more urgency.
"I have contacts!"
"Oh, yeah, and when was the last time you reordered them? I'll bet you fifty bucks that you're wearing an emergency pair right now."
"Okay, fuck you, because you know that I'm usually on top of it, and you most definitely know that I do not have fifty dollars to spare—"
"Do either of you ever shut up?" Katara groans, raising her voice slightly. "How did you live together for two years?"
"Honestly, that's probably the most functional we've ever been," Zuko reasons. He almost looks wistful as he says it.
Sokka nods in agreement. "Yeah, that was probably the last time I remembered to order my contacts on time."
The junior fights the urge to just exit this conversation while she can. "You're both insufferable and you deserve each other, but let's focus on the task at hand."
Katara leans over to pick up her tote bag, pulling out a club fair flyer and slamming it on the table. A couple of men in the middle of a Pai Sho game at the table over glare menacingly at the noise, but she pays them no mind. "I need more volunteers for The Monument booth at the fair. Are you guys in?"
"Why do you need more volunteers? Isn't the whole point that the table should be run by the staff?"
"Usually, yes," Katara says, sighing loudly. "But last year, after you quit and took your dad's money with you, we decided that we needed to make our set up more interesting to compensate for the missing flair."
Zuko scrunches his brows. "Meaning?"
"Meaning that this year we're adding Dunk The Editor as a game at our booth. And I'm the editor-in-chief."
It takes Sokka and Zuko three seconds to process what she's said, and then break out into unabashed glee. Zuko at least has the decency to hide his shocked grin behind his hand—Sokka's completely shameless, laughing so hard he looks like he might cry.
"You mean—"
"I'm gonna be drenched for the entire back half of the fair, yes."
"Oh, I have got to see this."
Katara doesn't feel the least bit guilty about kicking her brother in the shin from her side of the table, expression flat as he whines in pain.
"Well if you agree to volunteer, you'll unfortunately get a front row seat to my humiliation ritual," she says. "All the editors are gonna be taking turns in the tank, and we just need an extra set of hands or two to make sure people are actually learning about the paper instead of just sticking around for the show."
"Oh my god," Sokka says, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. "This is brilliant. Whose idea was this?"
"Take a wild guess," Katara grits out, imagining a Jet shaped punching bag. She'd take up a career in pro boxing if it meant that she could knock him in the jaw a couple of times. Honestly, with how worked up she gets, one solid hit is really all she would need.
"Wait, if Jet is an editor, wouldn't he also be in the tank?"
"Well, he originally pitched it as a Dunk The Editor-In-Chief tank, but Pakku felt that it should be a group endeavor. So now all of us are being subjected to it."
"This is priceless," Sokka says. "I mean, absolute gold."
"Are you in or not?" Katara snaps, getting irritated the more she thinks about it. It's not that she minds doing something silly to gain traction, it's that it started as a slight against her. It's good to know that Jet had fumbled his way into suffering too, but still.
"Unfortunately, as much as I'd love to see you suffer, dear baby sister, I've got plans."
"Doing what?"
"Suki needs a ride back home this weekend, and her car is in the shop. I'm driving her up state and back."
At this point the elephants in the room are multiplying, each one fatter than the last. "So you're driving her all the way up on Saturday, driving back, and then repeating the process on Sunday?"
"Not exactly," Sokka says, lowering his voice like it'll make the next words out of his mouth sound any less ridiculous. "We're leaving tonight since neither of us have Friday classes, and I'm just…kinda…staying the weekend?"
Both Zuko and Katara's mouths drop open.
"You're staying the weekend in Suki's childhood home?" Zuko's disbelief is almost palpable, meaning that he hadn't been informed—Sokka was planning on keeping this under wraps for as long as possible. He'd probably hoped to only answer questions after they'd already arrived back on Kyoshi.
"Well, I mean, she's still gonna need to get around once she's at home, so I figured it'd be easier to just stay! Besides, I've already met her family!"
"Yeah, when you were dating," Katara says exasperatedly. "They know you as their daughter's boyfriend! You're going to spend three days with your ex girlfriend and her moms?"
"Stop making it sound weirder than it is! I'm just doing my friend a favor."
For all her clueless feelings toward romance, Katara can't help but feel like a genius whenever she hears about her brother's love life. He's been in several relationships and she's been in zero, and yet they both manage to end up sounding insane whenever they go into detail about either experience.
It's like a scale of craziness, with the middle being neutral ground—either sibling is on one polar end, but sufficiently insane in their own way. Katara gets attached easily, petty and jealous and territorial, all while second guessing herself and never letting anything fall into place naturally. She's always trying to force things to go her way, and they never do.
Sokka is on the opposite side of the spectrum, letting life and romance happen to him—yet ending up with his heart torn in two all the same, because of the intensity of his feelings and chronic urge to fix things, even if it only breaks them further.
Or in some cases, the pieces of his heart get duct taped together while he tries to sustain the somewhat codependent bond he's developed with his ex partner, if this Suki debacle is anything to go by.
In short, Sokka clings on to what he no longer has, and Katara never gets a chance to have anything to hold in the first place.
She's still not allowed to bring Yue up around him (which is crazy, because technically, Katara knew her first. But whatever) for this exact reason. Their breakup was nightmare inducing. Which only makes this entire ordeal so much crazier.
Who in their right mind would volunteer themself for a four hour car ride and a weekend with their ex girlfriend and her family in her hometown? Does this not warrant a psych evaluation? Can this be classified as self harm??
Katara takes a deep breath. She really does need to press him on this soon, because it's becoming hard to stomach, but now still isn't the time.
"Alright, fine, you're out. Zuko, what about you? Are you in?"
Zuko stares at Sokka for a beat too long, like he's trying to solve a puzzle that he's missing pieces to. Sokka intentionally avoids his gaze, so he relents.
"Count me in. I don't work on Saturday, so I'm totally free."
"Thank you, at least someone is helpful. I'll text you the details ASAP. Do you still have any organization merch that you can wear?"
"I actually don't know where any of my Monument staff stuff is. I feel like I haven't seen any of it since I moved."
Sokka sucks in air through his teeth. "I'm actually pretty sure I still have that box of clothes. You said you didn't ever want to see it again, so I've just kinda been wearing them whenever I lounge around."
Katara expects Zuko to respond with any kind of surprise, but as usual, she is subjected to the weird dynamic that these two have built.
"Oh," Zuko says, face unchanging. "Cool. I'll just grab one before you leave tonight."
Seriously, is she the only sane person at this table? How do neither of them hear how ridiculous they sound?
BZZT!
Katara swipes down on her notification wall once her phone vibrates and nearly chokes.
[katara.swt] @aaaannngg has liked your post.
Well, maybe she's as equally crazy as the people she surrounds herself with. (Jury's still out on the verdict for this one.) She clicks her phone off immediately, refusing to give that any attention until she's in the comfort and safety of her own room, far away from the vultures that are her brother and his best friend.
"Please send me videos of Katara getting dunked. I have literally never wanted to see anything more."
Katara tsks and kicks him under the table again. Zuko snickers as Sokka screeches in pain, hands flying to his slow bruising shin. "Ow, Katara!"
"What?" she asks innocently. "What did I do?"
"Stop kicking me!"
"Do you have proof that I kicked you? It could've been Zuko."
"I know it was you!"
"Sounds like defamation to me," she shrugs, grin painted on her face as she reaches for Zuko's own half finished drink, placed deliberately in between them to make it easier for her to swipe once he got tired of it. "I could sue you for slander."
"God, I hate being related to a journalist."
Katara just smiles wider, cheeks dimpling from behind the lid of the plastic cup.
📰
The first staff meeting of the year went smoothly on Friday morning, and there was something extremely satisfying about standing before everyone and commanding their attention. Each seat had a corresponding placard with names based on each person's preferred seat, and the newsroom looks like something straight out of her moodboard.
The shift in energy around her was subtle but noticeable, and the buzz in her stomach from running the meeting stuck with her for the next hour.
Luckily, the majority of the meeting was spent confirming how the team planned to tackle the coming year, distributing press badges and organization authorized IDs, and confirming details for checking out cameras, and giving the rundown for the fair tomorrow.
The only real thing that had slightly shaken her confidence was the dirty looks that been sent her way by one of her seniors any time she expressed her enthusiasm about leading the team, to the point where even Jet was put off by it.
Grant Webster is the opinion section editor, and effectively their on-staff graphic designer. He's capable, witty, and beloved by many.
He hates Katara's guts, and makes almost zero effort to not show it. He's the only senior (besides Jet) that dislikes her, even skipping out on her celebratory dinner following the announcement of her new position.
Him, Katara, and Haru were the three candidates in the running for the EIC position. The sting of his loss had left him jaded not only because he had lost, but because Katara was the youngest of the three and he believed that seniority should take precedent in the decision making process.
Katara is the furthest thing from being a people pleaser, but she knows that if one of her editors doesn't respect her, it's going to be like pulling teeth communicating with him.
She sighs as she makes the walk from the journalism building to the one of the humanities buildings, where she's going to give a small presentation to promote the paper some more. She's definitely going to have to address Grant's beef with her some time soon, but she shakes it off as she makes her way up to the classroom.
The Intro to Ethnic Studies course is winding down with 20 minutes to spare, and the door left ajar in anticipation of her entrance. She's actually familiar with this classroom, given that she took this same class as an elective her freshman year and adored it.
Smoothing out her crisp polo and slacks, Katara enters the classroom right on cue.
"And now I want you all to give a warm welcome to our guest speaker, Katara Kusugak! Katara is an old student of mine, and the editor-in-chief of our university paper, The Monument. She's going to be explaining a little bit about what the organization does."
Katara smiles at the introduction, everyone in the class clapping politely. That's something she's always loved about the humanities course—they'll all at least pretend to care.
"Hi, I'm Katara," she waves as Dr. Iverson projects a promotional graphic onto the screen. She's about to launch into her spiel, eyes roaming over the crowd of students when she locks eyes with a tall figure in the second row.
No fucking way.
There he is, in all his tattooed glory—Aang is sitting with rapt attention, clearly just as surprised as she is.
For a second, it's like time stops, the entire world centered on broad shoulders and a baggie band tee. It's the same one that Katara owns, just a size or two bigger than hers.
Oh, I am in so much trouble.
Regulating her breathing, Katara makes quick work of looking somewhere else, refusing to acknowledge Aang's smile, and the way his eyes track her every movement.
"Like you just heard, The Monument is Ba Sing Se's online newspaper, for all things related to the student body, campus news, and human interest. We believe that anyone can have a voice, and we want to create an environment for you guys to use them. So much power exists in your words—being in a course like this already sets you apart from everyone else, and that's why I encourage you all to look into applying."
Katara continues explaining what the goal of the paper is, and the various sections and mediums that can be explored by staff writers and photographers. It's clear that at least a few of the students are intrigued by the concept, one girl goes as far as taking a picture of the graphic on the screen and immediately following the displayed QR code.
She feels completely in her element, and remembers again why she loves what she does so much.
"Do you guys have any questions for me?"
A hand shoots up in the front row. "What's the difference between the newspaper and our campus magazine? Like, how do you know if you'd be a better fit for one or the other?"
"Generally, the campus magazine focuses solely on the campus life aspect, and only comes out in monthly editions. The paper updates daily, and a lot of our columnists and multimedia hosts post weekly. You can definitely gain a lot from the magazine, but our horizons are a bit broader."
She almost pats herself on the back for how cleanly that came out—what she really wanted to say is that these people would be better suited jumping into a piranha-infested lake than working under Azula's reign of tyranny at the magazine. She's good at what she does, but it's one of the most toxic work environments a university can muster. Recommending the mag is like sending sailors to their deaths at sea.
Another question pops up further back, then another. This class is so much more interactive than she had expected, warming her heart a bit.
Then, finally, a tattooed hand shoots up from the sector of the room she has given nothing more than a few quick glances to the entire time. Katara calls on every higher power she can for strength as she points at him, allowing for him to speak.
"Does a lack of experience lower someone's chances of being picked?"
Katara swallows hard. "I'm sorry?"
"I mean, does priority go to journalism students? Or is past experience working for—let's say a yearbook—enough to be considered for a staff writer position?"
She almost does another double take at the question. She hadn't expected Aang to show any interest in applying for a position, and now the very thought is infesting her brain.
"Anyone is welcome to apply, regardless of their experience. As long as they're submitting a strong writing sample, we're happy to work with what you've got. A ton of our writers start out on yearbook staffs before they get to us, and our doors are open for plenty more."
Aang smiles lopsidedly, basically glowing. "Good to know."
Good to know? Is he actually going to apply for a position? That would be—Katara can't even fathom—
"It looks like our time is up," Dr. Iverson says, drawing Katara back to reality, the clock reading 1:58. "Thank you so much for stopping by. If any of you have questions for Katara, you can reach her via email, or stop by The Monument's booth tomorrow at the club fair. I'll make sure to link this graphic in a Canvas announcement for future reference."
The class starts to pack up, officially dismissed, Katara grabs her own tote bag and travel mug off of the vacant desk she had placed them on, waiting for the flow of students to slow before making her exit. It's a fairly small classroom, this building being older than others. It's probably due for renovation within the next year or so, and she's a little sad she'll probably have graduated before someone fixes the god awful aircon temperature problem.
"Um, hey," a deep voice says, terribly close to her person. Katara flinches as Aang comes into view. "Long time no see?"
"If you can call a week a long time, then sure," she replies, smiling back at him. She's unbelievably nervous, but refuses to let it show in her body language, especially while in a classroom. "What's up?"
"I didn't know you were an editor for the newspaper."
"I'm full of surprises. So are you, though. I would've assumed you're a music major, or something."
Aang laughs out loud. "Absolutely not. I'm terrible at playing instruments. I prefer listening and dancing along. They'd throw tomatoes at me if I auditioned for one of the ensembles. What gave you that impression?"
Maybe the dozens of pictures of you at concerts, free for all seven thousand of your followers to see. "Just a general vibe about you."
"Way to generalize, Katara. I'll have you know that it is entirely possible to have tattoos and piercings while being dogshit at music."
Katara giggles. "You have good music taste, at least. I love The Lotuses," she says, pointing at his shirt.
"Really? I've been obsessed with them for forever—"
A cough sounds near the whiteboard, Dr. Iverson smiling politely from behind her fist. "As good as it is to see my students getting along, I have another class starting in ten minutes, so…" she makes a shooing motion towards the door. "Maybe take this out into the hallway?"
Sheepish smiles find their way onto their faces, Aang gripping his backpack strap as he follows Katara out, waving their goodbyes to the professor.
"She has such a kind way of telling people to get lost."
Katara nods, starting her descent of the nearest staircase. Aang falls into step beside her, crowding in close to leave space for anyone coming up. Their shoulders brush due to the proximity, and she can officially confirm that the electricity she felt at the party had nothing to due with her alcohol intake.
"I'm obsessed with her. I used to stay behind after class and pelt her with a thousand questions."
"She seems pretty cool—I actually got referred for this class from one of my professors at my community college. I'm glad I took him up on it."
They continue to talk as they make their way down all three flights of stairs, making enthusiastic small talk that shouldn't feel nearly as charged as it is. For the first time in her life, she's glad this stupid massive building has no elevators so that she can milk this for all it's worth.
"Where are you headed after this?"
Katara takes a sip from her mug, trying to mask her blush. "I have class, then I have to grade some writing exercises for the editing course that I help teach."
Aang visibly deflates, stopping on the second to last step while Katara plants her feet on level ground.
"Oh."
"Why do you ask?"
She's not stupid—obviously whatever chemistry they had created on Saturday had endured a week of not speaking, even with barely knowing each other. She still finds Aang painfully attractive, and he wants to know who she is when there's not a joint in her hands.
It's just as exciting as it is nerve wracking. She hasn't felt this kind of pull in ages, and even then…something about this is so distinctly different from any other crush she's had before.
"I was gonna ask if you'd want to join me for lunch," Aang says, rubbing at his neck in a self conscious manner. He's huge, so it looks extremely silly, like this larger than life personality is trying to shrink into a smaller frame.
Katara bites her lip, fighting an overexcited squeak that's building in her throat. "Sorry to disappoint. I've got to get a ton of stuff done before the fair tomorrow, unfortunately."
Aang absently bounces on the balls of his feet. He's bad at standing still, Katara realizes, noticing how some part of him or other is in motion at all times. Like he's restless as a default setting.
"I'll just have to make sure to swing by, then."
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah," Aang says, still invading her personal space. She's starting to grow accustomed to it.
"I'll keep an eye out for you, then." She doesn't even need to look in the mirror to know that her face is flushed, cheeks warm and dark as she stares up at Aang.
"See you around."
"See you."
They part ways at the bottom of the stairs, Katara heading back towards the journalism building to revel in the solace of her office as she calms down, knowing that if she tries to work from home she won't get anything done.
Aang has a way of keeping her thoroughly distracted, and the sneaking suspicion that it's about to get worse tingles beneath her skin.
📰
Saturday morning gently welcomes Katara, her eyes opening after a full seven hours of sleep, undisturbed.
She's still suffering from the effects of grading and planning until 2:30. Far from the latest she's ever done, but after a full summer of writing at a leisurely pace whenever inspiration struck for her blog, it's a sharp reminder of what awaits her for the year.
Jin is mostly asleep right next to her, sprawled out across the left half of the bed while she attempts to kick Katara off her own mattress unconsciously.
She'd wandered in to keep Katara company when she was migrated to using her laptop on her bed, and they both passed out within the hour.
"Wakey-wakey," Katara whispers, poking Jin in the side.
Her roommate just grumbles and turns over on her side, only for Katara to continue her motions, tickling her ribs until Jin is clutching her sides in protest.
"Gah, Katara, stop!"
"You're gonna shove me off the bed," Katara whines.
"You sleep like you're dead to the world, anyway, why does it matter? You would sleep exactly the same on the floor."
That earns her a pinch, and Jin is finally rolling to sit up and give Katara some space. She sleeps like an angel—no bedhead, no snoring. Even though she fell asleep with her mascara on, none of it is smudged on her face or the pillow cases. Katara wakes up looking like she was fighting someone in her sleep.
"It's crazy that you just look like that when you wake up," Katara says, brain-to-mouth filter non functional at the moment.
"Like what," Jin replies around a jaw-cracking yawn. She presses into Katara's side.
Katara waves her off, not wanting to elaborate. Jet used to make fun of her when one of them stayed the night, pointing out her hair sticking up in every direction and the way she hogs blankets. One of those things that could be good natured once or twice regardless of intent, and only formed tiny irrational insecurities over time.
She rubs at her eyes and smooths her hair down, ignoring the funny feeling that wriggles around in her chest, a wounded little thing calling for her attention. Mentally, she crushes it beneath the heel of her tallest platform boots, streaking it against he pavement of her heart.
I'm not thinking about this today.
"Weird," Jin murmurs, rubbing her face against Katara's shoulder like a cat, both in an attempt to pester and comfort at once.
"Oh, I'm the weird one?" Katara leans over to tickle Jin again, and she instinctively grabs her hands.
"Enough."
They both devolve into giggles as they laze for a while longer, until Katara is itching in her skin, needing to be productive. They get ready and get lunch, preparing for the club fair. She'd successfully roped Jin into volunteering, even though she had protested about having to be around Zuko. While they aren't on bad terms, it is still fairly awkward.
"I'm sorry, but I'll be dealing with Jet the entire time, if that's any consolation."
"Okay, well now I feel bad for complaining," Jin says. "Hydrogen bomb versus coughing baby type scenario."
"Working with him isn't that bad," Katara shrugs.
Jin raises a skeptical brow. "Even you don't believe that."
"I heard somewhere that if you tell a lie enough times, it becomes the truth."
By the time they arrive at The Monument's station, most of the other organizations are in the process of setting up. Their table is mostly done, with plenty of stickers, pens, and branded clothing items ready. The whole idea is that anyone who comes up to the table and gives a quote for the article covering the even gets the chance to spin a prize wheel. The prizes determine whether they get something from off the table, or if one of the editors is getting ready to meet their soggy demise.
Speaking of which, that's the next thing that Katara zeroes in on: Haru, standing proudly next to the dunk tank.
"Ta-da!"
It's like something out of a cartoon, with a huge target rigged at the front and a board inside, waiting to be activated by a hidden lever. It looks something like a cage, and she almost laughs out loud. The true spirit of journalism, everyone.
"Why are we doing this again?"
"Funny," Jet says, appearing from where he was crouched on the ground, storing boxes of extra merchandise under the table. "Because it's funny, Katara. Not sure if you're familiar with the concept."
All she does in response to his bait is smile. "I admire the attitude, Jet. I hope you keep that positive mindset when it's your turn in the tank."
A tiny part of her almost feels bad for the jab—she knows Jet is afraid of water and refuses to admit it. he talks a big game, but she saw the way his smile dropped when Pakku stated that every editor at the fair would be participating, or nobody would.
Despite the fact that she'll be clothed, Katara's more focused on the 'embarrassing' aspect of it all, completely unaffected by the actual water. She's always loved swimming, and her and Sokka grew up participating in all kinds of ridiculous sibling diving contests.
In fact, now that she's actually here, she's not nearly as salty about it as she had been yesterday. Her mood only improves as Jet tries to mask his sulking.
Surprisingly, the oppressive summer heat has begged off for the day, randomly dropping to a lovely temperature. Ba Sing Se is unforgivable weather-wise from early May through late September, and any reprieve is welcome.
Grant shows up not too much later, greeting Haru and Jet but not Katara and Jin, and she has to control her face to make sure that her eyes don't roll right out of her head. This one-sided resentment thing is getting old.
Zuko arrives hot on his heels, hair tied up in a ponytail eerily similar to Katara's.
"Aw, twins," Jin snickers under her breath.
Katara just shoots her a look and a well aimed pout, a combination that says behave.
The closer they get to the start of the event, the more Katara's anticipation grows. She knows she should care more about getting soaked, or about making a good impression on the prospective class that will be filtering through this area, but neither of those things are what sit at the forefront of her mind.
She's thinking almost exclusively about Aang's promise to swing by the booth, just to say hello. She wonders distantly if he's a part of any other student associations, and whether or not she'll be drenched from head to toe like a wet cat on the side of the road when he turns up.
God, how has she survived the last week?
Once the editors compete in a rock, paper, scissors tournament to decide the order they'll rotate through the tank in, they're ready to go. Haru is a surprisingly good sport about going first, glad that he gets to just get it out of the way and chill for the rest of their time after his half hour long shift. He climbs in through the back and situates himself on the board, holding a thumbs up. Jet laughs, snapping a picture, which he immediately sends in the editors group chat.
The first couple visitors aren't all that intrigued by what the paper does, just scouring every table for food and merchandise. Which is fair, because that is exactly what Katara would do at these before she had to step up and run her own booth. She knows that not everyone is as passionate about student journalism as she is.
Then, a familiar face slows in front of their setup, and Katara beams. It's the enthusiastic girl from Aang's class, big brown doe eyes blinking wide. She's so short in comparison to Katara, who's on the taller side. Probably around five foot even, if she had to guess. Her braids are tied into a half-up, half-down hairstyle, and her dark brown cheeks are already sporting some kind of face paint in their school's representative colors. Adorable.
"Oh, hey! It's good to see you again," Katara greets. "You're from the ethnic studies course, right?"
The girl nods. "I figured I would look into the newspaper more."
Katara beams, signaling for Jet and Grant to come over. "I'm so glad. These are some of the other editors—uh, Haru is too, but he's a little busy," she says, gesturing vaguely to the tank. "We're happy to any questions you may have."
The boys introduce themselves to the girl, who is named Asiyah, fielding questions and concerns and explaining just how many opportunities there are for her if she were to apply. Slowly, the nerves twitching beneath the surface disappear from her face, and Katara can tell that they've got a serious applicant on their hands.
Zuko and Jin hold down the fort with managing passersby, both having enough knowledge about the paper and its operations to help out despite not being staff members.
"Would you be okay with a quick interview?" Jet says, putting on a smile that could sell water to a fish. Everyone on the editing team is a people-person, and it's clear that they're all in their element. "It won't take that long, and you can get a feel of what we do here. Plus, you get to spin the prize wheel after!"
"Okay, sure," Asiyah says.
"Perfect," Jet says, as he pulls out his phone to record her answers, rattling off a couple of easy questions off the top of his head—asking for Asiyah's name, classification, and whether or not this is her first club fair. If she's enjoying herself, what her favorite aspects were, etc. She seems surprised at how easy it feels, like she'd expected interviewing to be daunting.
It's over in two minutes, and Asiyah grins as she spins the wheel, the notch finally landing on dunk-the-editor.
"Lucky, lucky," Katara laughs. She leans back to call out to Haru. "Brace yourself, we've got a winner!"
Haru groans, but still smiles kindly at Asiyah as she gets ready to aim a ball at the target.
THWACK!
The ball hits the trigger smack-dab in the middle, and the board gives out from underneath the boy, dropping him into the pool of water beneath him ceremoniously. The clear container of water makes it possible to see him flounder for a brief moment before swimming back up, wiping his face with his hand.
"Great shot!"
Asiyah preens, trying not to giggle.
"We can't wait to see your application," Katara waves, having a gut feeling that she'll be a great addition to the team if she follows through. The joy radiating off of the underclassman is enough to give her hope, and she has a knack for being right about these kinds of things.
Jin places a hand on her shoulder and shares her smile, Katara's happiness infecting everyone around her. "Nice job, editor. You're killing it."
She blushes at the praise.
Haru only gets dunked two more times, and he takes it in stride. Everyone claps as he makes his exit, being handed a towel and his spare change of clothes. Grant's up next, and he's not all that pissy about it, even egging on anyone who feels shy about hitting the target and trying to get them to loosen up. Inevitably, they do, and it results in a good laugh.
Jet is the complete opposite when he cycles in, though, looking fucking terrified over being submerged in water. Zuko literally has to shove him towards the tank's deck.
"Dude, come on, trade with me."
"Yeah, there is a zero percent chance of that happening."
Katara doesn't even bother trying to hide her laugh, openly chuckling as Jet trembles. Some may call her a lesser person for it, but she couldn't give a single fuck if she tried.
Even Grant is tossing an amused look her way.
Hilariously enough, Jet gets dunked a total of twelve times, a record among the editors so far. It's impressive how bad his luck is right now. His disdain for the dunking doesn't seem to ease up. If anything, it gets worse every time he has to hoist himself back into position, awaiting the next round of public humiliation.
Katara is having a great day, and it only gets better as she's getting ready to take her turn in the tank, the face she's been keeping an eye out for smiling right back at her.
"Look who decided to show up," she says teasingly. "I thought you had changed your mind."
She didn't, really, but a twinge of anxiety dissipated the second he walked up to her.
"I'm a man of my word," Aang says, hands in his pockets. "I've come to support student affairs."
"You just want a sweatshirt."
"What? Of course not," he replies. "I want one of your hats, what do you take me for?"
Katara laughs as she twists her hair into a bun on top of her head. "Sorry, we're out of caps right now. But if you wanna try your luck, you might get to see me become one with water."
Aang acknowledges the tank for what looks like the first time and gasps. "No way."
"Yes way, actually. And if I don't get in there soon, someone's gonna pitch a fit."
Jet shivers miserably, shaking his wet hair at Jin and Zuko, who laugh in protest, smacking him in retort.
"I guess I came at a bad time?"
"Not really," she says as she walks towards the opening in the back. "You can just stand by and keep me company as I await my fate."
Aang moves to stand at the side of the contraption, crossing his arms casually. Katara hadn't actually been serious, but he converses with her as the last rush of people hits their stand, all three of the other editors varying in degree of dampness, Jin and Zuko splitting off to get more photos of the event.
Conversation with Aang flows easily, relaying what he's been up to since he got here and asking about how her day went. The more they talk, the freer Katara feels. The ball of nerves that sits inside of her shrinks a little with each time they see each other, and it's safe to say that Aang feels similarly.
"How cold is the water?"
"Oh, it's freezing," Katara answers as the tips of her toes skim the surface of the water, laughing.
"Why would you do this to yourself?"
"Suffering sells."
And that is a sentiment that Aang can't deny, eyeing the stack of interest forms filled out by people who stopped by today. A warm breeze skirts against their skin as he shifts to look up at her. It's nice to be on the opposite end of this angle, looking down at his soft features in the setting sunlight, earnest and open. Katara's heart rate increases ever so slightly.
"Were you actually on a yearbook committee?"
Aang nods. "I didn't really do much writing, but they always sent me out to do interviews and take pictures because I'm kind of an extrovert."
Katara doesn't doubt this for a second. Even though he's been completely engrossed in a conversation with her, Aang has nodded and waved at several people passing by after seeing them from the corner of his eye. He's only been here for two weeks, and this many people have some kind of repertoire with him.
"You know, if you really wanted to join our staff, I think you'd make a pretty good impression on our supervisor."
"Have I not made a good enough impression?"
"Well, I'm not the one who has to interview you," she teases, flushing at the little pout he tosses her way. "It's Professor Pakku who gets the ultimate say in who would be a good fit. I'm supposed to be an impartial party, reading through the anonymously submitted writing samples."
"Then I guess I'll just have to work twice as hard."
"That's what I like to hear."
For a second, the world is colored golden, Aang's silver jewelry glinting in the sunlight, illuminated and strikingly handsome. Staring at Aang is like a drug, and she wonders if she has some kind of predisposition for an addiction as she traces his jaw and the column of his throat with her eyes.
He seems equally entranced, eyes traveling all over Katara's face and form, down to her thighs in the short pair of athletic shorts she's got on. She tries not to visibly react to the intensity of his gaze.
A loud cry sounds from the table, all three editors gleefully shouting as they break the moment. "We have a winner!"
The timing is hilarious, given the fact that the final tank rotation was minutes away from ending. But Katara is a good sport, and managed to stay dry up until now, so it’s not worth complaining about.
"Looks like you've been sentenced," Aang says.
"It could be worse."
Two people wander over, likely an actual student and their younger sibling, who clutches the ball excitedly, ready to end Katara's phenomenal dry streak.
"Sorry about this," the kid says, winding up before the throw.
Katara can't do anything but brace herself, only flailing slightly as she tumbles into the water, sinking to the very bottom of the container. She spends a few seconds basking in that invigorating weightlessness, swimming happily.
She swims up, surfacing as everyone claps. She's grinning despite how frigid it is, blinking water out of her eyes. When she finally opens them, Aang is staring at her in awe, mirroring her expression.
She sends a wink his way as she pulls herself back up onto the board. He rounds the side of the tank, holding a hand out for her to take as she jumps out, keeping her stable and making sure there's no risk of injury. It's cute and chivalrous, her insides singing at how sweet he is to her for no real reason.
Aang grabs her the only remaining towel, draping it over her shoulders and catching stray droplets. That eerie comfortability snakes its way up Katara's throat, like this isn't their third ever interaction. This crush could be dangerous.
"Sorry, can I…"
Katara tilts her head as Aang undoes her little top knot, which was barely hanging on for dear life after her fall. Her wavy locks cascade down her back and over her shoulders, and she blinks happily as Aang moves a few strands out of her face. She's so abnormally at ease that she doesn't even question him pulling out his camera, taking pictures of what she looks like from his point of view, several inches taller.
He turns the screen toward her as she looks over them, grinning at how stupidly happy she looks. "Great shot."
"I think the model is probably the reason these came out so good," he shrugs.
The sound of Zuko and Jin laughing recenters Katara in reality, and she remembers that they are not only in public, but surrounded by people that know her on a personal level. A flicker of embarrassment burns inside of her. How does the world manage to disappear so easily when Aang is around?
"I should probably go get changed," Katara says.
"Right," Aang agrees, ruffling her hair with the towel. "I'll see you around?"
"You better."
It's impossible to not adore his eager smile as he steps out of her personal space and retreats, giving a stupid little two finger salute before realizing that it's probably uncool and laughing at himself.
Katara has to physically force herself to look away and grab her change of clothes, making her way to the bathroom around the corner.
Once Haru informs everyone that they have a guy coming to take care of the tank in the morning, the group finally starts to disperse, the tables dismantled and few remaining pieces of merch boxed. Jet volunteers to drop all the applications off in the newsroom tonight, and Katara can finally breathe for a second as she, Jin, and Zuko, start walking together.
She gets two seconds of peace, maximum. "Who was that guy you were talking to?"
So nosy, and so predictable.
"His name's Aang."
"You haven't mentioned anyone named Aang recently," Jin replies.
Katara shrugs, feigning nonchalance as she tosses her damp braided hair over her shoulder. "I guess it slipped my mind."
"When has anything ever slipped your mind," Zuko laughs.
"Exactly!"
"It's not a big deal," Katara continues, sipping on the shaken iced cinnamon espresso that she had convinced one of the vendors to make her on their way out. "He's just a guy I know."
Jin narrows her eyes. "He was awfully close for just some random guy."
The sidewalk dips beneath them, a small hill curving downwards the further they get from the heart of campus. The campus bell tower chimes in the distance, and the small creek they're passing babbles quietly. It's a nice night out, and she distantly wonders how she'll spend the rest of it. How Aang will spend the rest of his.
"I guess so," Katara shrugs, refusing to divulge any details at the moment. Normally, she's all too excited to debrief with her friends, but this feels like something she can sit on for a little while longer, at least until she figures out it's trajectory. Right now, mutual attraction is the only thing she can confidently speak to. She wants something just a little more concrete.
Instead of pressing her on it, Jin squints. Katara knows it's a power play—she's biding her time. But she doesn't mind.
Instead the trio turns to conversation about the unreasonable number of people who had asked if you 'have to do a lot of writing' to apply for The Monument, laughing at the absurdity of it all.
"I mean, it's a newspaper," Zuko scoffs, the most worked up she's seen him all day. "The position is literally called staff writer. What the hell else would you be doing?"
Jin snorts uncontrollably, leaning so hard into Katara that she nearly pushes her into the road. She shoves her right back, giggling. Moments like these often get lost in the sea of work that they've all got themselves buried in, and it's nice when she gets to take a step back to enjoy them before the current sweeps them all away.
The thought makes her randomly emotional, especially when she remembers that Zuko, alongside Sokka and Suki, will graduate in May, and she only has so many nights like these left—especially if Jin studies abroad for her final year.
Junior year means a lot to Katara, and she has to make the most of it.
The wateriness building in her eyes dissipates as Zuko trips and eats complete shit, making Jin laugh so hard that she collapses right next to him.
So stupid.
📰
The first thing Katara does once they get home is shoot Sokka a text reminding him to update her when they arrived at Suki's. His location shows that they're already about half an hour out of Ba Sing Se, so she knows it should only be a couple hours before she gets a response.
The next thing she does is open Instagram, because she truly can't help herself. It's a habit, at this point.
[katara.swt] @aaaannngg has tagged you in their story!
Katara is pleasantly surprised to see that Aang made a story post with pictures from the day, featuring him and his friends at various booths and games. What catches her eye is the picture in the bottom right corner, the final one in the spread—it's one of of the pictures he had taken of her while drying her face and hair, her blue eyes sparkling and mouth upturned into a pretty smile. She's beyond impressed by how nice it looks.
Feeling that same smile return to her face, she replies to his message.
katara
wow, thanks for the cameo
i'm honored
His reply is instantaneous.
aang
it'd be criminal to leave out the best picture i took all day
katara
you sure you don't want to apply for a photographer position?
aang
nothing's ever gonna come out this good !!
it's all about having the right muse yk
katara
oh, so i'm your muse now?
aang
you could be, if you wanted to
Katara has to hide her face in her hand to smother the urge to giggle so loud, extremely flustered.
katara
i could be into that
aang
yeah?
katara
yeah
aang
well in that case
we should probably start hanging out one on one
so i can get all inspired
katara
you are sooo full of shit
aang
can't a guy try to allude to wanting to take a girl out anymore
katara
no
word on the street is that you have to ask directly
full send
but that's just what i heard idk
aang
who is spreading this information
katara
i just told you! the streets!
aang
the most reputable source
otherwise know by its government name
streets, the
katara
you're dragging this bit pretty hard for someone
that's supposed to be asking me out
just saying
aang
yeah you're right
not my best work
katara,
can i please take you out sometime next week?
katara
idk i'm pretty busy 🤔
aang
katara.
katara
kidding!
i mean i AM busy
but i can make some free time
since you asked so nicely
and didn't beat around the bush at all
aang
you've kind of got an attitude
has anyone ever told you that?
katara
is that a problem
aang
HELL NO
i am exactly where i want to be
katara
oh, i'm sure LMAO
as much as i'd love to keep making fun of you
i need to go shower and dissociate with my roommate
2000s dramedies are calling to me
aang
alright :)
goodnight, katara
katara
goodnight aang!
@aaaannngg liked your message!
Katara's smiling so hard that her cheeks hurt, and she doesn't give Jin's knowing, prying looks any attention.
Maybe this unspoken thing is on its way to taking a turn for the better.