#tearbending

[impossiblycolorfulpanda]

[e-e-e-s-the-avatar]

I bet Yue's dad was totally on team Sokka/Yue.

I bet:

He knew Hahn was a total jerk but he felt like there were no other options in the NWT

He heard Hahn talking about all the political perks of the engagement at some point and was peeved as hell

He had this totally sweet, obviously smitten kid show up and saw that Yue liked him too

He knew that getting Sokka and Yue together could also be a great way to unite their tribes at a time when they sorely needed solidarity - but that's just a bonus

And thus he asked Sokka to protect Yue during the invasion, fully intending to have a nice little chat with Sokka about his intentions with Yue as soon as possible...

But he never got the chance.

[nothing-more-than-hot-leaf-juice]

top five moments that make you cry?

the first time we see Sokka cry because his dad is leaving and he’s being left behind and feels absolutely powerless against the world 

*can’t sing the lyric because he’s crying too hard* 

“can I have some onion and banana juice please?” + Aang finally getting a moment with someone who understands the loss of his people and finally getting a moment to miss them with all his heart

the voice crack at “but I want you to know...” + Zuko preparing for rejection and being met with Iroh’s unconditional love and Iroh just being so thankful that he didn’t lose his kid after all

“I don’t think boomerang’s coming back, Toph” + Sokka holding on with all the strength he has left as they accept that this is it and they’re going to die after everything they’d been through 

[lostboiking30]

Sorry in advance for reblogging all the Korrasami stuff. I LOVE THEM SO MUCHHH

[thezutarchive]

Heartwrenching headcanon #1: (I am so freaking sorry for this, pls don’t hurt me)

106 year old Zuko’s last words were “Thank You, Katara.” 104 year old Katara curled up on the bed next to him and wept - this time there was nothing she could heal.

[cynical-mystic]

Husband: *comes upstairs to ask me for one of our passwords*

Me: *is crying in the bathroom over a zutara big bang fic*

AKA, I would die for the author of "A Festival of Fire Lilies."

[snidely-whipstache]

Me, vibin to Other Side of Hollywood:

Getting punched in the face with Unsaid Emily:

[likealittleheartbeat]

i wrote this forever ago for another fic, but if katara and aang HAD to break up this is the level of kindness and 4ever friendship that their relationship demands. def cried at points while writing this soooo heads up. A change of air pressure seemed to settle in the room. “Aang, I know you know this isn’t working.” You would think that a sudden decrease of pressure in the atmosphere would lift you up. But it was rather too stark a reminder of the way clouds can suddenly tower over one another like clambering ants over a crumb. Then the winds would push through, followed by rain, and things would be lost that you never expected to lose, probably left somewhere new—the terracotta roof tiles scattered in the yard or a cart forced into the ditch. Once the event passed, even the most optimistic souls had to admit that the transformation smacked of catastrophe. Though both Aang and Katara could feel it all, there wasn’t much they could do with that emptying feeling now except ride it out.

“What do you mean ‘this’?” Aang asked, sitting up from the fur-lined bed. He had always felt uncomfortable sleeping on the skins. It wasn’t a year round practice. In summer, with much of the snow melted, flax woven beds filled with soft meadow grasses could be made, and sometimes even sleeping out with Appa was a possibility. Yet when they visited in the harsh winters, they huddled together on the yak-deer fur. But now Aang broke their huddle, confused? or shocked? or disbelieving? And, secretly, shamefully, hopeful? Everything in him pulled or pushed back: his eyebrows arched, his arms lifted his chest off the bed, even his perpetually forward moving arrow was caught in wrinkles on his forehead.

“I don’t know,” Katara responded, shaking her head in denial of her own intuition, “But doesn’t it seem like…” Her words caught. Aang’s pupils seemed to dilate begging for her to finish. “Don’t make me say it, please.” The tears let go of their grip and started falling in little crooked streams down her cheeks. Aang looked around at the tiny wooden nightstand, the blue bricked walls, the lilting fire, and nothing offered answers or clarity or even a sense that this was real.

“I don’t want to say it,” Aang responded. His lips parted slightly as if to make the attempt. Katara gave him a sad smile. It didn’t take a fortune teller to foresee Aang’s struggle, his disquiet as he approached a chapter’s end. And how much worse for this chapter to be about them: the relationship that had brought him back to this world again and again. He once called it a tether

But she looked at him, at all the peace he promised, at all the wisdom he held, the invisible strings he held in his hands connecting him, not just to her, but really to anyone in need. She could see into the invisible world and notice how his arms resisted the pull of a thousand kites caught in the winds. And Katara knew he would find such joy if he chose a few and followed them to their ends. She imagined his features brightened by happiness as he held someone else’s hand. Trying to resist those calls to keep this up was paining him. 

Here she was at home, the familiar softness beneath her, the same motifs stitched into her clothes as those her mother and father wore. Could they have ever hoped for the vitality that ran through the Southern Water Tribe these days? All the friends and love sparkling in this land that had seemed to be on its last legs until the day they met. She lay her hand on her husband’s. No, simply Aang’s. The baby blue tattoo that he still itched at when he got hot. “I’ll still be here,” she said. “But we just don’t need this, Aang. What are we afraid of? We’ve dealt with the worst of the world. And we’ve had our fun, too. We’ve both already…” She eyed him coyly, letting the implication settle into the pause. “And none of them threatened what we have, did they?” 

She kissed his pensive face lightly—an apology. “I have children and a whole tribe to help raise them and so much more life to live. And you have more adventures you’re meant for, too. Can’t you feel it? You, coming back here so often: it’s tiring for you, I know it. If I thought it were just me exhausted by it—but I know it isn’t.” Her explanation surged encouragingly, only breaking back into sentimental tears at its end. Katara hugged Aang. And Aang hugged her back. She could feel his embarrassed relief. “And you know,” she said into his shoulder, “If it all gets too hard, if you feel overwhelmed, you’ll come back here. You’re not alone.” Aang’s tears were soaking into her shoulder. “And if I ever need you, well, Sokka’s got Hawky.” Laughter broke up their sobs as they pulled apart and wiped at their faces.

“I know,” Aang, cheeks red and cherubic with sincerity, said finally, “I’d be there no matter what. I love you, Katara.” And so their story ended with the same force of affection by which it had always moved.