#he is rightfully angry and he has trauma

[torgawl]

maybe this is a hot take but i think there's a difference between having empathy for a character or feeling protectiveness over them and straight up infantilising the character in question, and i unfortunately see the latter quite a lot

[dekariosclan]

With you, I forget my goddess

So, I have completed Bg3 twice now, but on both runs I’ve romanced Gale (truly shocking, I know) and therefore I had never seen Gale’s non-romance discussion with Tav about the Annals of Karsus.

I recently got to see it, and what surprised me the most is how extremely angry and bitter Gale is about Mystra’s treatment of him. Rightfully and understandably so, but it’s something we do not see or experience in the romance version.

This got me thinking about the difference in Gale’s reactions in the friendship vs romance scenes, why they are different, and also how this relates to the complaints I’ve read about Gale ‘still not being over Mystra even when romancing Tav’.

(Note that I’m mainly going to focus on the portions of each dialogue that relate to Mystra in particular, and I’m not referencing the ‘alternate’ boat scene w/Gale—where he tells you beforehand that he will return the crown to her—since he doesn’t mention Mystra at all there.)

Screencaps below are from @munmomuu’s wonderful video on YouTube. The screencaps take place after Gale has read the Karsus book. If you are romancing him, before you reach this point, the conversation ends because he tells you he wants to discuss it later “in private,” during the boat scene.

But in a friendship run, he will explain what he’s read to you and then begin to make his case for using the crown:

Gale: Some gods may delude themselves into believing they care about their worshippers, but when it comes down to it - we’re all expendable. Children to be appeased, not respected.

Gale: I worshipped Mystra loyally for years, and in that time she granted me the barest sliver of the power I was ready to wield.

Gale: Even with the fate of the world at stake, she had little more to offer me than the means of blowing myself up at a more convenient time. She’s done nothing to help us.

There then comes a dialogue branch where Tav can ask this:

And Gale replies, with understandable bitterness:

Gale: She sent me to die.

Look at how angry he is during this whole exchange, and how he focuses all that anger on the past, and what Mystra has done to him (or not done, as he points out she’s offered them no help at all.)

— — —

Now let’s compare this to his Mystra dialogue in the boat scene:

Gale: I’ve already defied Mystra. Had I followed her command, there’d be nothing left of me but a smoking crater.

Gale: The tadpoles, the orb - these threats to our existence - the gods could aid us if they wished, but instead they cower behind Ao. So let us act ourselves.

Gale: I used to believe Mystra’s forgiveness was worth dying for. But I was wrong. You showed me just how much I have to live for.

Notice how there’s no fiery anger at Mystra here, just Gale’s resigned belief that the Gods have failed them.

So what’s the key component that makes Gale react so differently in each scenario?

It is, of course, Tav.

More specifically, it’s Tav’s love for him, which has clearly helped his heart heal from the trauma that he’s experienced. Yes, Tav’s friendship is extremely important as well, and yes, Gale is still insecure even with Tav’s love (‘you would really prefer me as I am?’) but the extreme bitterness, the anger, all of that is gone. Here, Gale is no longer hung up on Mystra and the past; he’s looking to the future. Because now that he has Tav, what he desires most is to take his life and his fate back from the Gods and into his own hands—with Tav at his side.

The irony is that some people complain about Gale ‘not being over Mystra’ while he’s actively romancing Tav, but just look at the difference in the dialogue! Look at how focused he is on Mystra when he is not romancing Tav, and then how she becomes a mere afterthought once Tav has claimed his heart.

I really enjoyed seeing this level of detail. I think it perfectly illustrates Gale’s frame of mind in each scenario, as well as showing the positive impact Tav’s love has on Gale.

And last but not least—it confirms that Gale was not exaggerating when he says this:

Gale: With you, I forget my goddess. I love you.

— — —

[ja3yun]

I'm a Virgin, Not a Murderer | CH.3: Ride or Dye

virgin!heeseung x sex worker!reader warnings: smut (mdni), oral (f.rec), inexperienced heeseung but he is surprisingly good, mentions of struggle with family/trauma, haunted house, there isn't many warnings on this one, it's quite cute...until the end, if i missed any lmk! wc: 16k ch.3 synopsis: the police are hot on your tail and with the news plastering your face on the news, you and heeseung set off up north. however, when you see an old amusement park and change your plans. maybe not your best idea... a/n: hi! if you are reading this just know i love you more than anyone else. i am releasing a day early bc i have some things i want to release later on on the week! this is definitely one of my favourite chapters i have ever written and it's full of fluff and character building so i hope you enjoy it and don't find it boring! thank you for the love on this series and i'll see you back here for the finale <3 reblogs, likes, comments, feedback are all welcome!

chapter 2 | masterlist | finale

“Just do it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Wait, wait, wait…will it hurt?”

“It’s hair, Heeseung, of course it won’t.”

You roll your eyes at his ridiculous question. Heeseung has clearly had his hair trimmed at various stages of his life, so why on earth does he think this time will be different? Perhaps it’s the fact that you are the one holding the scissors.

Ever since you both discovered that the police are hot on your trail, broadcasting unflattering pictures of you across UK news channels, it has been difficult to keep a low profile. You have tried to stay on the outskirts of the country, weaving through little towns where you hope the residents are too busy tending to their farms or stores to stay inside and watch the news.

So far, your strategy has worked, but too many close calls has instilled fear in both of you. Once, Heeseung wanted to order milkshakes from a small cafe in the Cotswolds and completely missed the massive red flag that your wanted pictures were plastered on the pages of the paper the waitress was reading. Another time, you insisted on staying inside a barn in the middle of Wiltshire, only to be chased out by a rightfully angry farmer brandishing a pitchfork, threatening to call the police.

Hence, here you are in Ayrshire, in a shady hotel that only takes cash, dying and cutting each other's hair. You settled for a jet black and bangs combo, which perfectly masked enough of your face that even you have trouble recognising yourself. Heeseung, on the other hand, insisted on pure white hair, claiming that hiding in plain sight is better than being inconspicuous with a natural shade of chestnut or blonde.

The only problem was that he fought with you for a good three hours, denying the fact that he needed a haircut and insisting that the hair colour transformation was enough. But when he looked into the mirror with his wet mop, he conceded the argument, realising that he looked more like the picture in the paper than ever before.

So here you are with a piece of his long hair sitting stiffly between your fingers as you prepare to make the first cut. Heeseung is staring at himself in the dirty mirror of the room that looks as though it has never seen a spray of glass cleaner in its life and mourns his luscious locks.

As you slice the scissors through his hair, he feels as though it’s his heart that is being snipped apart. The sound of the kitchen scissors rings alarms in his ears and he pouts, shutting his eyes as though you’re torturing him.

“Stop being a baby or I’ll shave it all off,” you warn, your tone resembling that of a mother who has told her child off for the last time and is threatening to send them to bed without dinner.

Heeseung slowly opens his eyes, a glaze of worry and remorse swimming over them. “Sorry, it’s just that I’ve been growing my hair out for a while and I really don’t want another bowl cut.” You can see the memories of the horrendous haircuts flash in his eyes, the taunts from his schoolmates as he walked into school multiple times with a cut that was genuinely as awful as it sounded. His mum used to put a Pyrex bowl on his head and cut around it, refusing to pay the barbers when she was ‘perfectly capable of doing it herself.’

You try to picture what he would look like with a lopsided bowl cut and snort, covering your mouth with the back of your hand, momentarily disregarding safety as the scissors sit loosely in your grip. The snicker doesn’t go down well with your client, and you quickly resort to instilling some ease into him, stroking the back of his head gently.

“Trust me, I’ve been cutting my own hair since I was a teen. I know what I’m doing,” you assure him, despite only one of those statements being true, and it was not the latter.

His eyes shift in the mirror to meet yours, a soft look in them. “Your mum never cut it for you?” he asks carefully, not knowing the full extent of your family or your history with them.

“My mum… she isn’t here anymore, she hasn’t been for a long time,” you admit honestly, deciding to use this opportunity of his distraction to cut more of his hair. The length falls just to the top of his neck, and considering Heeseung has a lot of hair, this is already a massive change.

Heeseung’s expression softens further, his eyes filled with sympathy and understanding. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, his voice sincere.

Shaking your head, you offer him a small smile. “Don’t be, I didn’t really know her since she passed away when I was little.” There are few memories you share with your mum, her presence almost lost in the fog of other moments from your childhood. You think maybe most of them are subconsciously discarded from your mind in the hopes that you miss her less.

However, if you remember one thing about her, it’s the afterschool trips to Woolworths when she would swing you up high over her shoulders and sing ‘Isn’t She Lovely’ by Stevie Wonder, making you feel as though you were a piercing arrow, soaring freely through the crisp summer sky. The memory brings a soft warmth to your chest, a fleeting connection to a time when life was simpler and filled with innocent joy. Maybe that’s why you keep the memory locked in your mind.

Heeseung sits for a minute, imagining what the world would be like without his own mum. She has been the backbone of everything he has ever done, and not having her there just seems unfathomable. He wouldn’t be as kind or generous, that’s for sure - his mum is a beacon of light to those she knows. During the time he has been on the run, he has often wondered what his parents have thought about the articles and radio snippets. But if he knows them well enough, which he does, he knows they’re fighting his corner somehow. This thought gives him a little bit of comfort throughout all of this turmoil.

But do you have anyone at ringside?

“What about your dad?” he pipes up, staring at the scissors in your hand rather than meeting your eyes, as if to make you feel more comfortable with his questions. He wants to subtly express that his queries are out of genuine curiosity and not an interrogation.

You pause for a moment, collecting your thoughts and decide how much you’re ready to tell Heeseung. Then it hits you - you feel so safe with Heeseung that you don’t wish to keep anything from him. The bond you both share is solid enough that divulging your family history and pain seems like the easiest thing in the world.

“My dad…” you begin, your voice tinged with a mixture of sadness and nostalgia. “He did his best after Mum died. But he wasn’t really equipped to handle raising two children on his own. He worked a lot, and when he was home, he was...distant. I think losing Mum broke something in him that he never managed to fix.”

You snip a bit more of Heeseung’s hair, your hands working almost automatically as your mind drifts through the past. “He tried his best but me and my big brother didn’t make it easy for him. My brother is a good person but he just got his soul a little lost, gave his heart to the wrong people and it caused so much fighting in the house that he eventually moved out when he was 16. He didn’t even bother to see me or write me a letter, he just, vanished.”

You have always wondered what happened to your brother, if he found his feet in the big bad world or if it swallowed him whole. There was one time you thought you saw him in Newcastle just by the train station when you were 13 on a school trip but the person was drunk and falling all over the place and you looked away before you could confirm; living in ignorance is easier than imagining your own family struggling.

“Then my dad just…stopped caring. He lost his job and stopped paying the bills,” you wince as you recall how hopeless your father had become. “I tried to help him but there was only so much a little girl can do before she also gives up hope.”

Heeseung knew you were strong, there wasn’t even a millimetre of his mind that thought otherwise, yet, hearing your past somehow brings him a whole new level of respect for you. Essentially, you were on your own your whole teenage years, the most formative and important time of your life and instead of being supported, you were supporting, looking after a man who couldn’t handle the cards that life dealt him.

“Your dad must be worried about you now, though,” Heeseung suggests, trying to find a silver lining amidst the dark clouds hanging over your conversation. But you shake your head, a sad and almost angry expression painting your face as you move to cut the layers into his shaggy hair.

“He cut ties with me once he found out what I was doing,” you scoff, though beneath the scorn, there is a breath of hurt. “He told every family member and friend we had and made sure they shut their doors in my face. He said I was a disgrace and that Mum would be ashamed of me, so I doubt he really gives a fuck.”

The bitterness in your words sends a shiver along Heeseung’s arms. It’s unfathomable to him how a father could turn his back on his daughter when she needed him more than ever. He knows no one turns to selling their body without hitting desperate times. His heart aches for you, and he finds himself wishing he could have been there to shield you from that pain.

It does beg the question that Heeseung has been wishing to ask you for so long. With you being so open and honest with him, this might be the best time to ask—you don’t know if you’ll ever get the chance again to settle his query.

“Why did you start…doing all of this?” he asks gently, his voice filled with genuine curiosity and concern, afraid his question might be imposing.

You pause, taking a deep breath, the scissors momentarily forgotten in your hand. “Money,” you begin to explain, the obvious answer sitting both of you in the face. “Me and Dad needed to make rent, so when I was just turning eighteen, I took any job I could. And let me tell you, there isn’t much out there for a girl with only a high school education.”

Struggling to find a job was something Heeseung had also encountered. However, he was lucky his dad ran a mechanic shop and would give him shifts when he desperately needed the cash between student loan payouts.

“I found this shitty pub near Camden that paid pennies, but it was a job, right? It did us good for the time, and then one day, I was complaining about money - I can’t remember why - and this punter comes up to me and says he knows a guy looking for a girl like me.”

The memory washes over you like a tidal wave, and you can almost smell the stale beer and hear the raucous laughter from the pub. The man was dressed in a suit and tie, clearly just off a busy 9-to-5 shift when he overheard your conversation with one of the other girls behind the bar. He snapped his fingers and called you over, telling you there was an opportunity you couldn’t refuse and promising to triple what you made bartending. What desperate person is going to turn that away?

“It was amazing money, enough to pay rent and the other bills - a little brothel with girls in need of cash like me. The girls were great; we all got along well, probably because we hated the guy who ran the place. I tell you, nothing brings people together more than a common enemy.”

“What did he do?” Heeseung asks gently, his voice a soothing balm to the raw wound you’re exposing.

“He stole our tips and took a cut for ‘room hire,’ which, by the way, was like half of the money,” you bitterly laugh, the sound hollow and filled with frustration. Thinking of all the money that prick owes you and your girls stirs a cauldron of anger inside you.

Heeseung twists his head to look at you, gobsmacked at the idea you were putting your body through god knows what, all to reap no real reward at the end of it. “That’s not fair. He can’t do that.”

“Well, he did. That’s why I left,” you state matter-of-factly, your voice a mixture of defiance and resignation.

The conversation leaves a heavy silence in the room. The snipping of the scissors is the only sound, but the air between you is charged with shared pain and understanding. Heeseung reaches out, his hand trembling slightly and places it over yours, stopping your movements for a moment.

“I’m sorry you had to go through all of that, Y/N,” Heeseung says softly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of how deeply you’ve been hurt. He hopes the twinkle of respect and adoration he holds for you shines through. “You deserve to have a good life.”

Taking a deep breath, you feel the weight of your past lift slightly with his words. The encouragement and belief Heeseung has in you, even in these dire circumstances, is all you have ever wanted from someone. If one person could back you up and be there for you, you know you can make it through anything. That’s probably why you’re feeling hopeful throughout this chase.

“You better give me the best life possible then, Lee Heeseung, because I think you’re going to be tagging along for a long time,” you jab, injecting some lightheartedness into the deep conversation. It’s a nice way to punctuate your past, finally letting it all out in the open and getting it off your shoulders.

Heeseung blushes, the scarlet tone washing over his nose and cheeks with shyness. Even the prospect of tomorrow with you makes his heart race, never mind forever.

Almost finished cutting his hair with only the front left to do, you circle around and begin to trim the long bangs. Since he is sitting down on the burst maroon leather seat, you can’t properly see if you’re cutting it evenly or not. If you were in any way a professional, this would be a breeze, but for some reason, you keep cutting one side shorter than the other.

Taking initiative, you move your legs and straddle Heeseung, parking yourself on his thighs to bring you face-to-face with him. It’s the easiest solution to your problem; he’s too tall to stand up because you’ll be reaching, and he’s down too low in the chair. Secretly, it's also because baring your past and being vulnerable has made you a little clingy.

Heeseung’s breath catches in his throat as you settle onto his lap. The proximity makes his heart pound, and he can feel the heat radiating from your body. You focus on your task, carefully trimming the bangs, but you’re acutely aware of how close you are to him. The intimacy of the moment is palpable, charged with unspoken emotions and the lingering tension between you. 

None of you have spoken about the strip club or what unfolded there and considering it’s been practically a week! you think someone would have said something. Instead of communicating about it, you both have lingering stares and steal subtle touches, rather than addressing the feelings you both felt.

Sure, it was lust driven but that’s a feeling that has been sitting at the surface of your chests, bubbling into something maybe just a little bit more.

Clenching his fists and releasing them, Heeseung is physically restraining himself from placing his hands on your hips, his mind screaming that he doesn’t deserve to lay his hands so casually on art as priceless and ethereal as you. Even when you’re in bed and snuggle up to him as you sleep peacefully, he takes a minute to convince himself that it’s okay to hug you into his chest, never feeling like it’s his right to.

It’s how he’s always felt about women, yet with you, it runs deeper than he’s ever experienced. The level of adoration and respect he has for you makes him want to treat you in a way no man has ever done before. You must be so exhausted with men constantly on you that he wants to show you he isn’t going to be like those men, not now, not ever.

Sensing his tensing frame underneath you, you withdraw the scissors from his hair and look at him with concern, afraid you’ve made him uncomfortable. However, as you see his flushed face and trembling eyes, you recognise the same shy boy you met two weeks ago.

“I thought we moved past being nervous with me?” you ask, feigning disapproval to lighten the mood.

Sighing loudly, Heeseung wipes his damp palms on his chest, trying to find a place for them that isn’t your body. “You forget that I’m still a virgin and you’re the prettiest girl on the planet; any man would be nervous in this situation.” His sincerity causes your heart to stop for a moment, the blood that would normally circulate now creeping up to your cheeks, leaving you both blushing messes.

You don’t think you’ll ever get over his compliments or how effortlessly they roll off his tongue. Deep inside, there is a space in your heart reserved for Heeseung, and you don’t know how he got there, but you’re not going to evict him any time soon.

Having him in your heart means you feel more towards him, and that includes emotions of guilt. You’ve never offered to sleep with him, and yes, you know he never expects you to, but part of you wants to. It’s not out of obligation but genuine desire.

However, there is a gnawing anxiety that if you do sleep with him, it will cause the universe to end this wild ride you’re on. You fear you’ll lose him after he pops his cherry, that the only reason he was fated to meet you was for that specific reason. What if, in some cruel joke, the stars drag him away from you? You can’t do any of this without him. He has become your pillar, and as soon as he is taken away, you’ll crumble.

With all these thoughts swirling in your mind, you can only give him a simple hum in acknowledgement, scared that if you open your mouth, you’ll say something silly and scare him. So you continue with your ministrations, cutting his fringe in such a way that it masks his face without completely covering those enchanting, dark eyes of his, the ones that pull you in without needing a second glance.

The room is charged with a subtle tension, but above all else, it’s clouded with serenity. You and Heeseung can sit in the silence of one another and enjoy it. Sharing tiny moments like this almost feels domestic. A large part of you wonders if this is what it feels like to be in a real relationship.

For years, you have longed to be held and loved for more than just your body. In no way do you regret the path you’ve chosen, not even after all of this, but you do wish you could have had the chance to experience just one loving relationship. To hold hands with someone just because you want to be close to them, hugging them in the home you share because your hearts are like two magnets that tremble for one another, and kissing them so tenderly on random Wednesday afternoons as you sit in Hyde Park, reminiscing about how you first met and how nothing in the world matters but the fire between you.

That is all you have ever wanted.

With a longing sigh, you snip the last piece of long hair from Heeseung’s head, inspecting your work for any room for improvement before you’re satisfied, then, you reach for the shitty portable mini hairdryer provided by the motel.

“Alright, let’s dry this off,” you say softly, turning on the hairdryer. The warm air hums gently as you work, ruffling Heeseung’s hair and smoothing it into place. He watches you through the mirror, his eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and something deeper, something unspoken but understood.

Heeseung likes to be looked after as much as he likes to make sure those he cherishes are also safeguarded. He knows that is the relationship you both have, one with give and take, although you more so give because that’s all you have ever known. Yet, as he looks at you now, he wants to change that. He wants to give back to you in ways no one ever has.

The room is heavy with unspoken promises and newfound understanding. You and Heeseung are intertwined in ways neither of you can fully comprehend, yet it feels right, like two lost souls finally finding a home in each other.

As you blow dry the last section, you run your fingers through it, hoping to style it a little but it’s proving difficult with the lack of products and how strangely soft Heeseung’s hair is; you wouldn’t think it went through two rounds of peroxide with lemon juice and a Crystal White hair dye. The pieces fall beautifully to the side of his face, the curtain bang vision you had in your head now coming to life before your eyes.

Finishing up, you switch off the hairdryer and place it back where it belongs before giving Heeseung's locks one final fix. You've never found men with white hair attractive, considering most of your old clients had the colour all over their bodies, but Heeseung looks like an angel straight out of the gates. The stark white hair contrasts beautifully with his darker brows and toned skin, complimenting him in a way that feels almost ethereal.

"All done," you announce, a proud smile spreading across your face as you admire your handiwork. You move off him, and both of you feel a sudden, stinging cold with the separation, your body almost instantly longing to be close to him once again.

He stands up and walks to the mirror to get a closer look. He crouches down, analysing his new reflection. He looks incredibly different, the long, flat, shabby hair he was once so proud of now a distant memory. The pure white threads of almost silk on his head transform his appearance completely. It's amazing what you managed to do with so few resources.

"Y/N, this is...really good," he says, his smile widening as he checks himself out, genuinely impressed. For the first time in a long while, he admires his own reflection. Despite the tired circles under his eyes, they remain wide and vibrant, possibly because he has had the opportunity to spend all morning with you, doing normal, young adult things.

No running, no fear, just the two of you together.

Cocking an eyebrow, you cross your arms in mock offence. "Are you surprised?" you ask, trying to mimic a serious tone despite the small smile on your face, a chuckle bubbling at the surface as you watch his eyes light up and his fingers carefully fix his sideburns.

After about a minute of self-ogling, Heeseung twists around to face you, grimacing as he sucks in his breath and tenses his neck in a fake display of apology. "Is it rude to say yes?"

Tutting, you reach over and punch his arm with more force than you intended, expressing your mock annoyance at his insinuation, even though you know he doesn't truly mean it.

"Ow!" he yelps, instinctively going to hold the now aching muscle of his arm. Pouting, he rubs it roughly to dispel the pain, massaging the nerves that are jittering inside. "You've got some punch on you."

"Yeah, well, I'll use it again if you ever doubt me," you threaten, your voice wavering with a slight giggle. He really is so fragile; you wonder how he's managed to survive living 22 years in this world.

Turning your attention to the mess behind you, you take the scissors and put them back in their case, cleaning up the hair around you. You brush his dead ends lazily with your foot; not the most conventional way to tidy up, but you aren't exactly equipped with a portable brush and shovel. 

Heeseung packs the clothes into the bags you got for 50p out of a charity shop, stealing glances at you as he works. Over the weeks you’ve spent together, he’s come to admire how you never complain, no matter the task. Even now, as you brush up his hair, you don’t grumble when it sticks to your socks. Instead, you wipe it away with ease.

Of course, the task isn’t arduous, but it’s a small example of your resilience. When he asked you to dye his hair and cut it, or even when you were at the strip club, you never once expressed annoyance. You simply got on with what needed to be done.

He finds it admirable, this quiet toughness you possess. It’s a strength he wishes he had inside him. Throughout this journey, he’s often complained about how hungry he is, or how hard it is to sleep on cold floors. And every time, you’ve reassured him, telling him it’ll be okay, giving him something to look towards, even though you were feeling the same way.

Heeseung can’t help but feel a pang of guilt. You’ve done so much for him and he’s been too wrapped up in his own discomfort to fully appreciate it. He wants to tell you how much he admires you, and how much your strength means to him, but the words stick in his throat. Instead, he swallows hard and focuses on the task at hand, determined to help in any way he can.

When you finally finish cleaning up, you look up and catch his eye. Heeseung gives you a small, grateful smile, and for a moment, the weight of the world seems to lift. In that brief exchange, so much is conveyed without words. He wants to be better, to be stronger for you, just as you’ve been for him.

“Thank you,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. It’s not just for the haircut, but for everything - for being his rock, his comfort, his guide through the darkness.

You smile back at him, a warmth spreading through your chest. “Anytime,” you reply, and you mean it. There’s nothing you wouldn’t do for him, nothing you wouldn’t face together. “Now, do you have your stuff? We need to leave for the bus soon,” you swiftly change the subject.

Heeseung scrunches his features before he quickly releases them, understanding what you mean. Rummaging through the bag in front of him, he quickly retrieves a baseball cap which he puts on carefully to avoid ruining your work, and places a pair of silver-rimmed, oval glasses on his face. “All ready!” He turns to you, the palm of his hand under his chin as he showcases the excellent disguise that he has conjured up. 

Taking in his new appearance, you realise two things: one, you finally understand why people find it difficult to identify Superman as Clark Kent, glasses doing more for disguises than any mask could; he was right about hiding in plain sight, but you’ll never admit it. And two, he looks fucking beautiful.

The hat that makes his ears poke out just a little bit more than usual, the glasses that somehow cover yet accentuate his eyes, paired with the oversized AC/DC t-shirt, baggy Denim Co. jeans, and the trainers he has been wearing this entire time, he looks like something straight out of the ‘your next crush’ section in POP! Magazine. 

Biting your lip subconsciously, your eyes trail his body, your pupils shaking in need. Maybe you have enough time to push him onto the bed and jump-

“You good?” Heeseung asks, a half frown working on his face. 

Shaking your head from the lewd thoughts, you smile, taking your bag from the place on the bed beside him. “Let’s go.”

_____

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Heeseung’s eyes dart around the crowded bus with palpable trepidation, fearing someone might recognise you both. It's his first time using his alias, "Evan," and despite your reassurances that his new appearance is enough to deter recognition, he's planned an elaborate backstory complete with trivia about his fabricated life, including bonus rounds. He doesn’t know when someone might ask him in which primary school his fake grandmother attended, but he has the answer locked and loaded.

His hand is gripping yours tightly, the sweat from his nerves now creating a tiny swimming pool in your connected palms. He doesn’t mean to get clammy but the idea of coming so far and having it foiled on a National Express bus on the outskirts of Ayr is putting him on edge.

You don’t seem to notice his sweaty hands or the elderly woman watching you from across the aisle. Instead, your attention is captivated by the breathtaking Scottish countryside passing by outside the window. The rolling hills of Ayr are adorned with lush greenery, dotted with clusters of ancient trees that sway gently in the breeze.

The bus winds through narrow roads flanked by dry stone walls and vibrant patches of wildflowers. Highland cows, with their shaggy coats and long, curved horns, graze lazily in the pastures. Oh, to be a cow in another life, munching grass all day long without a care in the world. The notion amuses you, and you imagine that maybe, if you're reincarnated, you can come back as one of these peaceful creatures.

The scenery outside is so tranquil that you easily lose yourself in the views. The mountains, the serene lochs, and the quaint cottages all work together to quiet your mind, offering a brief respite from the constant anxiety that has followed you for weeks. For a moment, everything feels right.

However, as soon as something unusual catches your eye, your brain shifts back into gear, thoughts twirling with curiosity. You sit up straight, eyes narrowing to focus. Amidst the idyllic landscape, something stands out - a stark contrast to the beauty surrounding it.

An old, rusty, clearly abandoned theme park appears on the horizon. The sign, once vibrant with its yellow and red paint, now faded and peeling, spells out the name ‘Joyland.’ But there is nothing joyous about the place. The park has clearly been deserted for at least 15 years, left to the mercy of time and nature.

Theme parks are something younger you could only dream of, your dad insisting that it was too far away and too expensive. You understand him a little better now that you’re older, however, that doesn’t quench the little girl inside you and her thirst for the excitement of a Maze of Mirrors or Waltzers.

With a twinkle in your eye and a quickening of your heartbeat, you push Heeseung to stand up in the aisle. He protests slightly, letting out a surprised 'whoa' and a grunt, but you ignore him, clasping his hand tightly in yours. Fighting against the slippery sweat that threatens to break your grip, you drag him towards the front of the bus.

Heeseung's heart plummets, his anxiety boiling over as people start to notice your sudden movement. He tries to reason with you, urging you to return to your seats and abandon whatever impulsive idea has sparked this rush. 

But his pleas fall on deaf ears. By the time his voice filters through to you, you're already tapping the bus driver's shoulder with feigned panic. “Sir, can you pull over, please?” you ask, your voice sweet yet tinged with urgency.

“No can do, Hen. The bus doesn’t stop until we get to Troon,” he explains calmly, giving you a glance through the rearview mirror.

“Please, my boyfriend is going to be sick, and I don’t want to disrupt anyone’s journey,” you plead. The excuse is thin, but if there’s one thing a bus driver hates more than being late, it’s dealing with a sick passenger.

The driver’s eyes widen and he flusters slightly. “Well, there are bags under the seat. Take one of them.”

“It’s not going to be enough. He’s had a drink or two, and you know what that’s like,” you say, your lips forming into a pout as you try anything to get the bus to stop. The longer you stand begging, the further the theme park recedes into the distance.

You elbow Heeseung roughly. The unexpected blow makes him hunch over, breath catching in his throat and eyes bulging slightly. It's the perfect reaction to convince the driver, who nods quickly, his concern outweighing his schedule. “Yes, alright, but only for a minute,” he concedes, flicking the indicator to pull to the left-hand side.

Mentally, you praise Heeseung for his overdramatic reactions to pain. His theatrical flair, usually a source of amusement when he overreacts to a bump or a stepped-on foot, has come in handy. No one can ever say that being dramatic gets you nowhere.

As the bus pulled to a stop, a surge of triumph coursed through you. The driver swung open the creaky door, and you stepped off, immediately feeling the brisk Scottish air kiss your face. Heeseung stumbled behind you, trying to navigate the steep steps of the bus as you tugged him along.

“Are you mad?” Heeseung whispered, his grip tightening on your hand, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and excitement. He glanced around, searching for any sign of reason in your decision to abandon the bus for an impromptu adventure through the countryside.

“Maybe,” you replied with a grin, the thrill of spontaneity evident in your voice. Glancing over Heeseung’s shoulder to the bus driver, you flashed a polite smile. “You go ahead, we’ll walk. He could use the fresh air,” you shouted, waving off any objections.

Before the driver could protest, you were already sprinting back in the direction the bus had come from, dragging the bewildered Heeseung behind you. He stumbled at first but quickly matched your pace, his curiosity piqued despite his confusion. The bus pulled away, leaving you both standing at the roadside, free from the constraints of scheduled travel.

“Y/N, where are we going?” Heeseung gasped, breathless from the unexpected burst of activity.

“Just come on, we’re almost there!” you called back over your shoulder, excitement shining in your eyes and a wide grin spreading across your face.

Heeseung caught a glimpse of your infectious enthusiasm and decided to trust in your lead, letting go of his worries and focusing instead on keeping up with you.

As you approached the entrance to Joyland, you slowed your pace, causing Heeseung to nearly collide with your back. He stops himself, grasping your arm to steady both of you. The gates before you are weathered and rusted, the once vibrant red paint now faded and peeling. Vines snaked through the gaps in the iron bars, reclaiming the space that had been abandoned to time.

Heeseung looks up and tilts his head, “Y/N what are we doing here?”

Wistfully, you let go of his hand and walk towards the gates, assessing just how easy it would be to get into the park. Luckily, it is held together with a flimsy lock that could easily be broken with a rock and some force. 

Looking around and ignoring Heeseung’s answer for now, you search for something hard enough to break the padlock with, the ground around you is scattered with lots of handy things; Buckfast bottles, old shoes which you don’t even dare ask how they ended up here, scared of the answer it might bring, and then the golden ticket; a brick that had fallen from the wall that surrounded the park.

Grabbing it, you almost skip back to the entrance, happy that in just one swing, you’ll be accomplishing a dream of yours, even if you can’t complete it in its entirety. You lift your arm up, grasping tight on the ash-red brick before hammering it down. The first time doesn’t work, only rattling the metal against the steel, so persistent as ever, you try again and again until finally, the contraption falls to the ground with a tiny thud. 

Heeseung watches you from afar, shoulders tense from the sound of the breaking lock and your grunts. You must really want in there and he will be damned if he tries to stop you. He wants to pose the question again, wondering what could be so exciting about a shitty theme park that hasn’t seen any joy despite its name in a decade, but you answer it for him.

“I’ve never been to one of these before,” you speak in a hushed tone, scared to disrupt the silence that carries through the wind.

“It’s shut down, Y/N,” Heeseung states the obvious, now standing behind you.

Craning your neck, you look up at him and smile. “Just means there are no queues.”

Pushing open the creaking gate and finally stepping inside, the sound echoes through the stillness of the park. The path ahead is overgrown with wildflowers and weeds, the cracked pavement obscured by nature's reclamation. An old carousel stands in the distance, its paint long gone and its horses frozen in time, a melancholy reminder of days gone by.

The entrance to Joyland is eerily inviting, with pretty moss creeping up the dilapidated ticket booth and the once-bright sign now dulled by years of neglect. The Ferris wheel, its gondolas now chipped and weathered, stands motionless against the backdrop of a clear sky. The roller coaster tracks, twisted and overgrown with weeds, snake their way through the park, hinting at the thrills they once offered.

“Look at this place,” you whisper, awe and curiosity mixing in your voice. “It’s like stepping into a forgotten world.”

Heeseung nods, his eyes scanning the beautifully tragic surroundings. “Yeah, it’s kinda sad to see it like this. It would have been nice for you to see it in its glory,” he says softly.

Having visited countless theme parks in his lifetime, Heeseung can vividly imagine what Joyland used to be like: vibrant with colour, the laughter of children echoing as they dashed away from their parents to ride attractions they were barely tall enough for, and the mingling scents of carnival foods creating a unique aroma of nostalgia.

You both wander through the deserted park, taking in the sights, walking side by side in a peaceful silence. However, Heeseung can’t shake off the feeling of being watched, perhaps because the openness of the area leaves nowhere to hide. There are rides and booths, but someone could easily spot you both if they looked hard enough.

“It’s too exposed here, Y/N. Let’s just go,” he warns, his eyes darting to a moving shadow he’s convinced is real and not just a figment of his imagination. The happiness of imagined memories quickly washes away as he sees what the park really is: a derelict site filled with discarded needles and abandoned rides.

You notice his unease, the way his eyes shift nervously, and know he’s seconds away from dragging you back to the bus. But if this is your only chance to experience a theme park, you’re willing to use every bit of charm you have.

Fluttering your eyelashes and jutting out your lip, you gaze up at him with a pleading expression. “Hee, please,” you begin, taking his hand and swinging it gently. “Just for five minutes?” You cringe inwardly at your own performance but are willing to act the part for the chance to stay - it’ll be worth the bruise in your pride.

Heeseung’s fear is chipped away at your pleas. It’s so ridiculous how easy men are to trick in this day and age, particularly a virgin who is in hook, line, and sinker for you.

“Alright, five minutes,” he finally concedes, sighing deeply. You beam up at him, gratitude and excitement flooding your heart. 

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, you place a kiss on his cheek, eliciting a pink blush to form on his him. Unlike the other times he’s gone flushed in the face, this isn’t of embarrassment but rather contentment and glee.

Maybe this is Joyland after all.

“There’s a haunted house over there, let's go!” you exclaim, pointing to the weathered, foreboding structure looming in the distance.

Maybe he was too quick with his thoughts.

Heeseung swallows hard, trying to mask his apprehension with a weak smile. "Sure," he replies, his voice wavering slightly. He squeezes your hand for reassurance, more for his sake than yours, as you both make your way towards the haunted house.

The building looks like it’s been pulled straight out of a horror film. The once grand entrance is now covered in ivy and the wooden doors hang loosely on their hinges. The paint is chipped and faded, the windows are cracked and clouded with grime, and the sign above the door, which once read ‘House of Horrors’ is barely legible. The wind whistles through the gaps, adding an eerie melody to the desolate ambience.

You step inside first, the floorboards creaking under your weight. Heeseung hesitates at the threshold, his eyes darting around nervously. The light from outside filters through the broken windows, casting long shadows that seem to dance and shift. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself before following you inside.

The air inside the haunted house is stale and thick with dust. Cobwebs hang from the ceiling, and the smell of dampness and decay lingers, infiltrating your nose and causing you to wince. The first room you enter is a foyer of sorts, with tattered red curtains hanging from the walls and a decrepit chandelier swaying gently above. An old grandfather clock stands in the corner, its hands frozen at midnight.

Heeseung keeps a tight grip on your hand, his eyes scanning every corner for signs of movement. "This place is...something," he mutters, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably.

You squeeze his hand back, giving him a reassuring smile. "Come on, it's just a bit of fun," you say, leading him further into the house.

The next room is even darker, with the only guidance of your steps being from the room before. You can barely make out the shapes of old furniture covered in white sheets, some stained with what you hope is fake blood. Suddenly, a gust of wind slams a door shut behind you, causing Heeseung to jump, his heart travelling from its rightful place in his chest to his throat.

He lets out a nervous laugh, quickly trying to cover it up. "That was just the wind," he says, more to himself than to you.

You nod, suppressing a giggle. "Of course it was," you agree, though you can't help but feel a shiver run down your spine. The atmosphere of the haunted house is getting to you too, despite your brave front. Despite your eagerness to enter the haunted attraction, you hate to admit that you aren’t feeling the best right now, your heart a ticking bomb. 

If you were to go into this house when it was up and running, scare actors and life still instilled within the dark corners then maybe you would feel a little better, but the more you venture into the darkness, the less sturdy your legs are.

In one room, you come across a dusty old mirror, the vision of you and Heeseung echoing back to you, plastering a reassured smile on your face. Both of you look nothing like yourselves yet next to one another, you feel like you’ve found who you’re supposed to be.

As you approach it, a ghostly figure suddenly appears in the reflection, reaching out towards you. You yelp in surprise, instinctively wrapping your arms around Heeseung’s waist and quickly facing away from it, burying your face into his chest. 

He stiffens for a moment, then relaxes, wrapping his free arm around you protectively. Although he also got a fright, he feels himself needing to protect you as a way to pay you back for every time you’ve looked after him. Granted, he wishes it could be something a bit more substantial than a trick mirror but it will do for now.

"It's okay, it's just a trick," Heeseung murmurs, trying to comfort you even as his own heart races, squeezing you tighter. He can feel your body trembling against his, and it takes everything in him to project calmness, to be the anchor you need right now.

“I… don’t like this anymore, Heeseung,” you admit, looking up at him. The dim light casts shadows across his face, but you can still make out the worry etched into his features. You seek comfort in his familiarity, trying to steady your racing heart. Something in your gut tells you to get out of this place, and after ignoring your instincts that fateful day two weeks ago, you refuse to disregard them ever again.

Heeseung nods, rubbing your back soothingly. "We'll find a way out," he promises, his eyes scanning the area for any beacon of light to guide you both. But all he stumbles upon is another door. "I think we’ll need to keep going for now."

It's the worst thing he could say, but you understand he's right. The only way out of here is forward, the door behind you stuck firmly shut.

To ease the tension, Heeseung chuckles slightly. “You know, I didn’t think you were scared of anything,” he chats, trying to keep you distracted as he opens the door to a new, unexplored room.

“I’m scared of a lot of things,” you confess. Your guard is up against the house, but down for Heeseung. After opening up about your past, the wall around your heart doesn't feel the need to rebuild itself. The boy currently holding you under his arm has taken your defences down piece by piece, and you don't hate him for it one bit.

With a look of surprise, his eyes settle on your delicate face as he processes your response. “Really? Like what?” He’s not trying to be intrusive; he just genuinely didn’t think you had any.

“I can’t tell you that,” you laugh, the tension in your body melting slightly, even as you face an old life-sized doll trapped in a box. Your fears are personal, and you believe that speaking them into existence might make them come true. There are two fears trapped inside you that you wish never to see the light of day.

Unravelling yourself from Heeseung’s strong embrace, you timidly approach the looming figure in the box. Its lifelike form is so realistic that you might have mistaken it for a real person. The glass is dusty, and the top right corner has been shattered by something small but mighty. You can’t believe your eyes.

“Heeseung, come here,” you beckon him, your hand gesturing for him to step forward and see what you’re seeing. “Doesn’t this doll look like you?” If you didn’t know any better, you would say that Heeseung had a twin. The doll has the same eyes, nose, and pretty pink lips.

Examining the box, Heeseung reads out loud, “Have your wishes granted by the doll that knows your deepest desires.” He whispers softly, scared that it might be some spell to wake the creepy doll. It does look scarily like him, except this doll has cherry-red hair and dead eyes.

He takes off his glasses and stands next to it. “It really is me, huh?”

Clasping a hand over your mouth, you widen your eyes, taking in the side-by-side comparison. “Hee, that is you, down to your long lashes!” Your eyes dart between them both as you view them.

It's scary, but what's more daunting is staying in this creepy house any longer. You rid your thoughts of any ideas that a shapeshifter has stolen Heeseung’s body and placed it in the comically large doll box, gladly walking away from it.

Giving it one last stare, Heeseung sighs. “I hope someone finds you and gives you a good life.” He wishes the doll a farewell and walks behind you, the unease in his chest dissipating slightly as he follows your determined steps.

Taking the lead, Heeseung opens the next door once again, yet, instead of a room, you’re met with a long, pitch-black corridor that seems to stretch on forever with no end in sight. The air is thick, almost suffocating, and the faint echo of his footsteps reverberates through the darkness.

“I say we run through it,” you suggest, your voice echoing off the walls and adding to the eerie atmosphere. It's not your favourite choice, but you know there's a good chance the exit is right ahead.

Heeseung nods, focusing ahead. “We are good at running,” he jokes, causing you both to laugh. The eerie space fills with a haunting joy, a stark contrast to the oppressive silence that has surrounded you.

Holding out your hand, you offer it to Heeseung. “On the count of three?”

“Three.”

Without a chance to comprehend what he says, Heeseung locks his fingers with yours and starts running, the sudden burst leaving you trailing behind him. Despite the darkness and the unknown ahead, you can't help but laugh, letting him lead you to safety. The adrenaline rush and the sound of your combined laughter make the moment surreal and oddly comforting.

Heeseung glances back at you despite only making out the shadow of you, the only light leaking from the room you were previously in. There's a moment where he can see the smile on your face and it causes his heart to pit a pat in his chest. 

The corridor isn't actually that long, or maybe it’s the fun you’re having, but soon enough you’re both crashing through an emergency exit door, chests rising and falling with laughter and excitement. You feel like a kid again, running around without a care in the world, free from any negative thoughts or the wear and tear that adulthood has bestowed upon you.

The cool, fresh air hits your face, a welcome relief from the suffocating darkness inside. You never thought you would be happy to see the British skies before, suddenly admiring the beauty around you, despite the less-than-attractive surroundings. The contrast between the open, airy countryside and the eerie, claustrophobic house is stark, filling you with a newfound appreciation for the simplicity of the outdoors.

Stealing a glance at Heeseung, you notice how his face, although red from the cardio, looks so different. His eyes are lit up like a child at a Christmas market, his face visibly younger, and there is an air to him you haven’t seen before. He has always been beautiful, but now he looks pure and wholesome, his mind no longer bombarded with anxiety, nerves, or whatever else goes on inside that pretty head of his. The relief and exhilaration from escaping the haunted house paired with a moment of child-like freedom has brought out a serene glow in him.

Heeseung’s eyes meet yours as he straightens his back, his muscles relaxed now that he feels safe. "Now I know why people run through horror games," he chuckles, but his words are lost in the sweeping air, and you fail to register them, still caught in your reverie.

Your silence isolates you both, prompting Heeseung to examine you more closely. Maybe you're in shock from the scare the house gave you, or perhaps you're gathering your breath. He finds it unusual for you to be so quiet. You're just looking at him, lost in contemplation, with an inscrutable face that makes his smile fade somewhat.

"What is it? Are you okay?" he asks, his voice filled with worry, his hand gently squeezing yours.

It takes you a minute to realise you’re staring at him, your brain clouded with so many thoughts and realisations that it shuts down for a moment. The overwhelming affection you feel for him leaves you momentarily speechless. Never in your life has a man rendered you incapable of basic human functions. The way he looks in the summer sun, the ease with which he’s starting to smile, makes your heart flutter in a way you’ve never experienced before.

Finally, you shake your head slightly, breaking free from your trance. “Yeah, I’m okay,” you murmur, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Let’s…go find another ride.” Changing the subject seems to be your only way out, so you use the whiplash as your opportunity to bolt before he asks something else.

“Hey, wait!” he shouts behind you in an attempt to slow you down, but you’re already steadily running towards the middle of the park. The crunch of gravel under your shoes is the only sound accompanying your rapid footsteps, the eerie silence of the abandoned amusement park amplifying every movement.

Your eyes scan over the abundance of left-to-die rides, mourning for them as you think about how they have been forced to remain stagnant. Surely they could have been reused somewhere else? Why is it that these particular machines weren’t good enough? The sight of rusted Ferris wheels and dilapidated roller coasters, their once vibrant colours now faded and peeling, tugs at your heartstrings. 

As you weave through the overgrown pathways, you stumble upon something that catches your eye - a tunnel with a large, heart-shaped archway. The sign above it reads “Tunnel of Love,” but there’s no water in the canal below due to sunshine and abandonment. The boats that once floated gently along the waterway now sit dry and cracked, covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs. The wooden planks of the dock are warped and splintered, evidence of the neglect they’ve suffered.

Stepping closer, you peer into the tunnel. The walls inside are decorated with faded murals of romantic scenes: lovers in rowboats under a starlit sky, holding hands as they drift through enchanted landscapes. The air is thick with the scent of damp wood and mildew, the remnants of the once-glistening water now a distant memory. The cracked and dry canal floor, once a pathway for swaying boats, now lies abandoned, its purpose long forgotten.

Heeseung finally catches up, panting heavily. “Y/N, please don’t run away like that. Anyone or anything could be out here,” he scolds softly, his voice laced with genuine concern. He gives you a once-over, ensuring you haven't been hurt, scanning your form, checking for any signs of injury or distress. The thought of a rabid animal or some hidden danger lurking in the shadows sends a shiver down his spine. The idea of you being harmed, even by a scratch, is enough to send him into an anxious panic. He doesn’t even want to think about the state he would be in if you suddenly got caught by the police.

You see the worry etched on his face and feel a pang of guilt for making him anxious. “I’m sorry, Heeseung,” you say softly, reaching out to touch his arm. “I didn’t mean to worry you. It’s just…this place, it’s so fascinating in its own way.” You daren’t tell him it has anything to do with your mixed up feelings.

Heeseung’s expression softens at your words. “I know, it’s just…we have to be careful. This place is falling apart, and I don’t want anything to happen to you.” His eyes, full of concern, meet yours, and you feel a warmth spread through your chest at his protectiveness.

“I guess this is the wrong time to ask if we can go through the tunnel?” you sheepishly ask, hoping that he will say yes to your request. You have always wanted to go through a love tunnel, even just once.

Heeseung sets his focus down the dark tunnel and pouts slightly in thought. “Does it even still work?”

That is a question you don’t have even the tiniest speck of an answer for, but you can make the assumption that the correct one would be a hard no. Your face forms into a disappointed frown, your hopes of experiencing the ride now dismal.

Upon seeing your disappointment, Heeseung refuses to watch the excitement die inside of you. His mind races, desperate to find a way to make this moment special for you. Glancing around, his eyes catching sight of an old, weathered booth tucked away to the side.

“Wait here for a second, I’ll see if I can get it working,” he says, determination setting in as he walks over to the booth. The structure is small and dilapidated, with a sign above it that reads ‘Operator’. Heeseung pushes open the creaky door and steps inside, brushing away the cobwebs that cling to his shirt. The air is stale, filled with the scent of dust and decay, but he’s undeterred, thankful he is only scared of women and not spiders.

Inside, a control panel covered in grime greets him. It is a chaotic array of buttons, switches, and levers, each labelled with faded, barely legible text. Heeseung squints, trying to make sense of the worn labels: “Start,” “Stop,” “Lights,” “Music,” “Emergency.” He has no idea how to operate the machinery, but the thought of seeing you happy drives him forward.

Heeseung’s fingers hover over the buttons, hesitant. “Okay, let's see,” he mutters to himself, trying to recall any fragments of knowledge about old amusement park rides. He presses the “Start” button, hoping for some sign of life. A low hum fills the booth, and the old, rusted mechanisms of the tunnel creak in protest as they start to move.

Peering out of the booth, he sees a few of the dim fairy lights flicker to life inside the tunnel. The ancient bulbs struggle but manage to cast a faint, romantic glow along the pathway. Heeseung’s heart races with a mix of excitement and anxiety, hoping this will work.

He looks back at the panel and flips the switch labelled “Music.” A scratchy, old recording of a love song begins to play, the sound wavering but still charming in its vintage way. He can’t help but smile, imagining how you must be feeling right now.

“Oh my god, Hee, it’s on!” Heeseung's heart swells as he hears your delighted squeal echoing through the air. Despite the dusty and bug-infested surroundings of the booth, seeing you so excited makes every moment worthwhile. He steps out, wiping his hands on his shirt to rid them of the grime, and walks over to where you're standing by the entrance to the love tunnel.

Your face lights up as he approaches, your eyes sparkling with joy. The soft glow of the tunnel's lights illuminates your features, casting a warm, romantic aura around you both. Heeseung can't help but smile back at you, his own happiness mirroring yours.

"I told you I would try," Heeseung says playfully, a hint of pride in his voice. His eyes sparkle with satisfaction as he glances towards the tunnel entrance. Inside, the flickering lights cast dancing shadows on the cracked walls, and the faint strains of the love song create an unexpectedly enchanting atmosphere.

"And I’ll never doubt you again," you reply with a bright smile, nudging him gently with your shoulder. "Can we just walk through it?" you ponder, noting the absence of water and the cracked boat that would have carried you through a dreamy water ride.

Heeseung chuckles softly at your playful nudge, feeling a warmth spread through him at your words of trust and appreciation. He meets your gaze, seeing sincerity and excitement shining through, and nods enthusiastically.

"Of course we can. Who’s going to stop us? Security?" he teases, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Taking the leap, Heeseung gracefully jumps down into the tunnel, his lanky limbs giving him an effortless advantage. The worn, pool-like ground beneath him feels sturdy underfoot as he kicks away empty vodka bottles and shattered glass.

"Come on," he beckons with a gentle smile, his fingers curling inward to encourage you to join him in the deep space below.

Trusting in Heeseung’s ability to catch you, you sit on the edge and wait for him to position himself below. Heeseung stands ready with his arms outstretched, prepared to catch you. A wave of excitement and nervousness wells up in your chest. His sweet smile and supportive gesture fortify your resolve as you prepare to plunge. 

“It’s okay, just jump, I’ll catch you,” he assures, his face conveying unwavering confidence in his ability to protect you. His voice, serene and certain, echoes gently in the tranquillity of the abandoned attraction.

His eyes never leave yours, filled with a warmth that melts away any lingering doubts. In that moment, his faith in your safety gives you the courage you need to push off the ledge. You’re not scared of heights, just of falling.

You propel yourself forward, the world momentarily blurring around you as gravity takes hold. The rush of wind fills your ears, a fleeting sensation of weightlessness before you feel Heeseung's strong arms enveloping you. His embrace is secure and comforting, anchoring you safely in his grasp.

As you settle into his arms, a wave of relief washes over you, adrenaline slowly giving way to a sense of accomplishment and gratitude. Heeseung holds you close, his touch gentle yet firm, as if reassuring himself of your safety. His embrace is tighter than necessary, his hands cradling you protectively, and you feel the steady beat of his heart matching the rhythm of yours.

“See? I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice carrying a quiet strength and reassurance.

You blush slightly, grateful for his stability as you take a step back, the warmth of his touch lingering on your skin, mingling with the surge of emotions coursing through you. Your dynamic shifts significantly in this moment; his confidence and reassurance are new, as is your sudden desire to shy away and twirl your hair.

Standing there, relishing the warmth of the moment, Heeseung softly extends his hand to you as a quiet invitation. His eyes, gentle and comforting, meet yours, softly indicating that he is ready whenever you are. The air around you seems to shimmer with the remnants of the love song echoing softly from the tunnel, adding to the novel ambience.

You peek down at his hand, which looks strong and welcoming. Without hesitation, you reach out, your fingers naturally linking with his. 

Heeseung gives you a pleasant grin, his attention shifting to the tunnel entrance. "Shall we?" he says softly, his tone full of optimism and wonder. His grasp on your hand is firm yet kind, guiding you towards the darker entryway where pink-hued lights flicker and dance against the walls.

Taking a deep breath, you respond with a nod and a broad smile. Together, you enter the tunnel, the ground beneath your feet reverberating softly with each step.

The enchanting atmosphere grows as you and Heeseung venture deeper into the tunnel. The warm lights cast a soft glow on the forgotten walls, illuminating the path ahead with a dreamlike quality. You notice faded murals depicting whimsical scenes of enchanted forests and mythical creatures, their vibrant colours still peeking through despite years of neglect.

The tunnel widens into a larger chamber, revealing remnants of the once-grand attraction. Rusted railings and dilapidated boats lie abandoned, adding to the sense of forgotten magic. You can almost hear the echoes of laughter and the gentle splashes of water that once filled the air.

Heeseung watches you with a delighted smile as you take in your surroundings, your eyes wide with wonder. He enjoys seeing you like this, so full of curiosity and excitement. "It's amazing, isn't it?" he says, his voice barely more than a whisper, as if afraid to break the spell of the moment for you.

You nod, unable to tear your gaze away from the sight before you. "It's like stepping into another world," you reply, your voice filled with awe. 

There must have been thousands of couples who road down this exact path, hearts filled with love for their partners as they took in the different scenes meant to exhibit different kinds of love; a fairyland garden that depicted an elf picking a daisy for his faerie girlfriend, different forest animals around a campfire, each paired with their own lover.

The two of you explore the different sections of the attraction, each one more fascinating than the last. One passageway leads to a room filled with intricate mechanical contraptions, once part of a grand clockwork display. 

In another area, you discover a garden-themed section, where overgrown vines and flowers have taken over, creating a beautiful, natural tapestry. The scent of blooming flowers lingers in the air, a stark contrast to the dusty corridors you navigated earlier. Heeseung picks a small, wildflower and tucks it behind your ear, his touch gentle and affectionate.

"You're even more beautiful than the flowers," he says softly, causing you to blush and smile shyly. Heeseung can feel his fingers tremble slightly but he keeps his confident manner, pushing away his virgin nerves for a minute to give you the experience you deserve.

He is so sweet and you thank the heavens for allowing you to experience this tunnel with him.

Your journey takes you to the heart of the attraction, where a grand stage still stands. The stage is adorned with tattered curtains and faded decorations, but you can easily imagine the grandeur it once held. Before you stands a scene depicting a king and queen sitting proudly on their thrones, hands raised in a waving gesture, greeting their subjects with glee as they hold hands.

“I wanna get a closer look,” you say, your eyes glued to the regal couple. Heeseung nods and follows you without hesitation. “Can you boost me up?” you ask, glancing at the steep wall separating you from the display.

Nodding with an agreeable smile, Heeseung walks over to the wall and kneels beside it, his hands crossed on his knee to create a platform for you to step on. He thanks himself for playing Tomb Raider one too many times, giving him the knowledge to assist you properly without making it awkward.

Offering him a quick thanks, you place your foot on his hands and he lifts you up effortlessly. Your arms shake slightly as you pull yourself onto the platform, but you manage to steady yourself and take in the intricate details of the royal figures.

From your elevated vantage point, you can see the exquisite craftsmanship of the display, each feature carefully carved to bring the king and queen to life. The sight takes your breath away, and you share your amazement with Heeseung, who watches you with a proud smile.

"It's even more incredible up close," you say, your voice filled with awe. 

Wanting to get in on the action, Heeseung searches around, looking for something to help him up to the platform that you seem so amazed by. There isn’t much but rubbish and some strewn, soggy leaves. He would ask you for a hand up but he’s scared he’ll drag you right back down again.

Pacing the area, he finally comes across a ladder which has obviously fallen from the wall, with sections of the steps missing, the rust from the metal enough to make his skin crawl as he thinks about all the time he refused to get a tetanus shot at the doctor's; oh, how that would come in handy now.

Heeseung chooses to take the risk, picking it up and placing it against the wall before hastily mounting it, fearful that it will slip and he'll end up with more damage than lockjaw. 

Fortunately for him, he gets up relatively easily and can finally join you in the delight. His eyes scan the scene before him, and he realises why you were so determined to make it up here. The slight flush on the queen's cheeks and the king's adoring stare at his wife epitomise love, showcasing their devotion as though they were real people.

Whoever made this park put time and effort into every small detail. It’s a shame entire generations will miss out on it.

Timidly, you walk over to the dolls, a lingering fear that they might come to life still gripping you. The haunted house has left your nerves frayed, making everything seem like a potential threat. However, they sit obediently in place, their eyes unmoving and thankfully unbothered as you begin to move them, eager to sit on the throne they possess.

Gently, you place them on the ground beside one another, ensuring they remain together. You turn to the throne and feel the material, testing its sturdiness to make sure you don’t fall through when you sit.

Heeseung watches you with a mix of amusement and admiration. "I think it's safe," he says, offering a reassuring smile, his hand outstretched to guide you to the seat.

You take a deep breath and carefully lower yourself onto the throne. To your relief, it holds firm, and you find yourself seated in the seat of royalty. The sensation is surreal, almost making you feel powerful, and you realise why the monarchy insists on these comically massive chairs.

“Imagine being the queen,” you muse aloud, rubbing the armrests as you commit every fine detail to memory. The intricate carvings of flowers and vines shine back at you as you unintentionally clean away the buildup of dust.

“I’d vote for you,” Heeseung replies, admiring the sight of you seated on the throne.

You look up at him with confusion. “Heeseung, it’s the Prime Minister we vote for, not the queen,” you say, wondering how on earth he confused the two.

He scratches his arm, a nervous habit of his when he feels even the tiniest bit embarrassed. “Oh, well…I’d still vote for you to rule the world somehow,” he says sheepishly, his eyes falling to the floor. He wishes he could pretend he didn't get them mixed up, but in his mind, they all merge together, perhaps due to years of neglect by both parties.

You giggle and swing your feet, enjoying normalcy for once. It reminds you of the conversations you had with the girls, helping one another to learn even the most obvious things. One of them once asked if Essex was a continent, and you had to gently explain cities and countries.

You took those times for granted.

The music suddenly changes to a softer melody, like one from a jewellery box, pulling you back to the present. The beautiful sound carries an air of love around you, filling the tunnel with a tender, enchanting atmosphere.

Heeseung also notices the change and sees the quiet excitement on your face, the elation evident in your eyes. The corners of your lips turn up in a smile, showing him how much you love the song.

Offering you his hand, he bows slightly. "Would the queen like to dance?" he asks, his embarrassment and nerves dissipating as he watches your reaction.

"The queen would be honoured," you reply with a playful smile, taking his hand and standing up. The two of you move into a waltzing position, or at least as close as two amateurs can manage.

Heeseung's hand rests gently on your waist, and you place yours on his shoulder. Your feet move in tandem with his, following his lead as he sways you softly from side to side. The rhythm is simple, almost instinctual, as you both find a comfortable pace. Heeseung twirls you around, guiding you with a delicate touch. The tunnel fills with laughter as you both realise how terrible you are at dancing, your steps more like a gentle walk back and forth rather than any actual dance move.

The flickering lights cast a warm, romantic glow on your faces, adding to the dreamlike quality of the moment. You can't help but feel a sense of euphoria, the combination of the music, the setting, and Heeseung's presence creates a perfect moment of bliss. Each step, each movement, is filled with unspoken words and shared smiles.

Heeseung's eyes never leave yours, and you feel a profound connection with him, as if the entire world has faded away, leaving just the two of you in this enchanted place. His fingers are warm against your back, his grip secure yet gentle, providing a sense of safety and comfort.

As you continue to sway, you can hear Heeseung's soft breaths, matching the rhythm of the music. You lean in closer, resting your head against his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

"You know," you whisper, a hint of teasing in your voice, "your heart doesn't beat as fast as it used to."

Heeseung huffs out a soft chuckle, the sound vibrating through your body. "I guess I'm getting used to having you close," he replies, his voice a soft murmur in your ear. His tone turns slightly more serious as he speaks again, his grip on you tightening slightly. “And I feel safe with you; I think that’s why.”

His confession causes you to look up at him. The sincerity on his face adds weight to his words. The emotion in his eyes is pure, and you know he means it. You've seen him grow comfortable with you over the weeks, but hearing him say it out loud makes your stomach do cartwheels.

Taking his hand, you place it gently over your heart, his palm resting just on top of your left breast. Your actions startle him at first, but he soon relaxes, feeling your heartbeat which matches his own rhythm.

Peering up at him through your lashes, you beam at him. “I guess mine feels safe with you too.”

The moment stretches, the air between you thickening with an electric charge. Heeseung’s eyes darken slightly as they flicker to your lips and back up to your eyes. His hand remains on your chest, the warmth of his palm seeping through your shirt, creating a connection that feels almost tangible.

You can feel his breath on your skin, the soft rise and fall of his chest against yours. Slowly, he leans in, his lips hovering just a centimeter away from yours. The anticipation makes your heart race even faster, and you close the gap, pressing your lips to his in a tender kiss.

The initial contact is soft and tentative, testing the waters. But as soon as your lips meet, an undeniable heat flares between you. Heeseung’s hand moves from your chest to cradle your face, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. You respond by wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

This isn’t your first kiss with him, yet it feels entirely different to the ones you have shared before, although still as intoxicating, this one also ignites your soul in ways you never thought possible, the feeling as though you are opening yourself up to him completely. It could be the romantic atmosphere, or it could be something more.

The kiss deepens, growing more passionate with each passing second. Heeseung’s other hand settles on your waist, drawing you flush against him. You can feel his heartbeat, strong and steady, against your own, creating a rhythm that syncs perfectly with the dance of your lips.

Heeseung tilts his head slightly, deepening the kiss further. His tongue gently brushes against your lips, seeking entry, and you part them willingly, allowing him to explore. The taste of him is intoxicating, sending a shiver down your spine.

The heat between you intensifies, your bodies pressing closer together as if trying to meld into one. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him even nearer. Heeseung responds with a low groan, the sound vibrating through you and igniting a fire in your belly.

His hand slowly begins to massage your tit, causing you to roll your head back and break the kiss, enjoying the feeling of being touched. Moans escape your throat as you relish in his contact. However, as Heeseung makes his way to capture your lips with urgency, you find yourself falling back, losing your footing and stumbling back onto the throne, dragging the man down with you.

Heeseung panics, terrified that his body weight has somehow hurt you upon impact. But as your lips find his again, all worries melt away with each stroke and swirl of your tongue against his. You are so lost in him that you fail to notice how your head hits the backrest of the throne, likely causing you a migraine in the hours to come.

The surroundings seem to fade as your world narrows down to just the two of you. The throne room, once a grand stage, now a silent witness to your burgeoning romance, adds an air of surreal magic to the moment. The tattered curtains sway gently with the breeze, and the faded decorations glint faintly in light, casting a soft glow that bathes you both in a warm, intimate embrace.

Grabbing your hips, Heeseung shifts you to sit more comfortably on the throne. His lips move from yours to your neck, exploring the tender skin there with a mix of reverence and desire. Your natural scent drives him wild, his nose ghosting over your pulse points before licking and sucking them gently.

The action causes you to whimper, legs spreading instinctively as he turns you into a puddle of arousal beneath him. It’s incredible how a man who has never touched a woman is somehow doing more for you than any experienced man ever could. It’s as if he came straight from a dream factory, complete with the sex function already installed, add-ons included. Even the way he holds you, his fingers digging into your hips just right, is enough to have your hips bucking into his.

"Heeseung," you moan, threading your fingers into his hair. With gentle force, you begin to push his head down, guiding him to where you need him most.

Eyes widening, Heeseung retreats slightly. "Y/N, I-"

"Please, Heeseung," you beg, your face a picture of desperation.

Heeseung wants nothing more than to rid you of your clothes and devour you like his life depends on it, but a constant, nagging fear lingers in the back of his mind: what if he does it wrong? This is the first time he'll even see a vagina up close, let alone have the pressure to please the woman he adores.

Of course, he has watched the porn tapes that Jongseong and Jaeyun somehow managed to collect from a shady dealer in Camden Market, and there are the magazines he looks at for some light reading, but never has he seen one in the flesh. His face goes slightly red, and you can see him retreating back to the boy who first stepped into the hotel room, panic and fear springing to life in his eyes as he contemplates the notion of giving you head.

Reaching over, you run your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly in an attempt to ease his mind. "Hee, just do what feels right. I trust you."

The affirmation in your voice, coupled with the tender touch of your fingers, reassures him. Heeseung takes a deep breath, his eyes meeting yours with newfound resolve. Slowly, he lowers himself between your thighs, his hands sliding up your legs and parting them gently.

With shaky fingers, he unbuttons your jean shorts and pulls them down, taking your panties along with them. His heart skips approximately three beats as he stares at your heat, its slight glisten caught in the faded overhead lights of the platform.

It's even more beautiful than he could ever have imagined, the heat radiating from it as it calls him closer, whispering pleas to be touched that only he can hear.

Gathering his courage, he starts with tentative kisses, his lips brushing against your inner thighs, moving closer and closer to your centre. You can feel his breath, warm and teasing, and it makes your heart race even faster. His hands, steady now, grip your hips firmly, holding you in place as he finally reaches his destination.

Heeseung’s first touch is gentle, a soft press of his lips against your most sensitive spot. The sensation makes you gasp, your back arching off the throne. Encouraged by your response, he grows bolder, his tongue darting out to taste you. The initial hesitancy fades away, replaced by a focused intensity as he explores, learning what makes you squirm and moan with pleasure.

The taste is foreign but far from unpleasant. He can see himself becoming addicted to you with each long stripe of his tongue up your folds. He closes his eyes, harnessing all his senses to taste you and hear your heaven-sent moans filter through his ears.

Your hands find his head, pushing him further in as you urge him to be a little more dominant, his soft licks now teasing you as you crave more. “Heeseung,” you begin, eyes closed while you practically hump his face, using his sharp nose to stimulate your nub. “Focus on my clit, please.” The instruction is so breathy that it doesn’t sound demanding at all but rather pleading.

Hearing your soft cries, Heeseung darts his tongue around clumsily until he comes across your sensitive nub, its swollen state making it easier to find. That was a worry of his after hearing countless conversations in uni from girls about men never finding it, yet, he had nothing to be anxious about because, despite other men’s incompetence, he latches onto it quickly, sucking and swirling his muscle around it.

The sounds of his slurping mixed with your groans of pleasure echo around the tunnel, truly transforming it into its branded name. He’s hitting all the spots, although sometimes lacking direction and ruining the rhythm, yet he always manages to find his way back to the spots you crave him.

Every stroke of his tongue, every gentle suck, drives you higher, the sensations building into an overwhelming crescendo. Your hands grip his hair tightly, your hips moving of their own accord, seeking more of the exquisite pleasure he’s giving you.

“Heeseung,” you moan, the sound of his name a desperate plea on your lips.

He responds with a low hum, the vibration adding another layer to the pleasure that’s consuming you. His tongue moves with increasing confidence, drawing out whimpers and cries from you that bounce straight to his semi-hard cock. The feeling of his mouth on you, his hands holding you steady, is almost too much to bear.

Your thighs clamp around his head, trapping him between your legs and signalling your impending climax. The feeling of suffocating at the hands of your pleasure feels like such a heavenly way to die that Heeseung doesn’t mind it one bit.

The tip of his tongue flicks rapidly over your clit, the ridgedness of him stimulating you over the edge and causing you to come undone around him, your entire upper body removing itself from the backrest and hunching over him, your fingers gripping his hair painfully as the high rushes through your veins.

“Fuck!” you scream out, your cunt riding his face as it spreads your juices over him, marking the man as your own.

Heeseung smiles as he feels you cum over his tongue, a swelling sense of pride enveloping his body as he makes you wriggle in ecstasy. He made a girl cum, him, the virgin who only 10 minutes ago hadn’t even seen a pussy before, and now here you are, losing yourself in euphoria all because of him and his newly experienced tongue.

He will give himself a pat on the back later.

Just as you begin to relax, your muscles unclenching and your heart settling into a steady rhythm, the lights above suddenly go out. The warm white and pink hues that had bathed the tunnel vanish, plunging you both into complete darkness.

For a moment, there is silence. The absence of light seems to amplify the sounds around you—the faint echo of your breathing, the soft rustle of fabric as Heeseung shifts nervously. The air feels heavier now, thick with uncertainty and a touch of apprehension.

“Fuck, the ride must shut off automatically,” you conclude, only grounded in your panic due to the touch from Heeseung. 

Heeseung lifts his head from between your legs, sitting on his feet as he looks around for a spec of light. Unlike the haunted house, there are no windows to even offer you a glimpse of light, it is pitch black and suddenly very, very cold.

Feeling around him, Heeseung retrieves your shorts from the ground before manoeuvring around in the darkness to help you put them back on. His heart sinks a little at the sudden interruption because although unconventional and spur of the moment, this could have been his opportunity to lose his v-card, finally ridding him of what he found a burden.

If his cock could talk, it would be sobbing as it gets left in his boxers for one more day. It craves to be inside you but for now, he just needs to focus on both of you getting out of the tunnel safely. 

Standing up, Heeseung feels for your hand in the darkness, gently pulling you up from the throne. “Hold onto my hand but let me go first. I’ll get us down,” he says with determination. His face is close to yours, his breath warm on your forehead, your body so near to his that you could almost feel the heat radiating between you.

Interlocking your fingers with his, you feel his confident movements as he tests the ground ahead. He stretches out his foot, tapping lightly to gauge if there’s solid ground beneath him, repeating the process around him. He’s grateful for the random fireman experience he attended in his last year of high school, recalling the lessons on how to navigate in darkness or low-visibility situations.

He repeats the tapping process four times, methodically feeling his way forward until he finally senses the edge of the platform. The drop feels daunting in the darkness, making Heeseung feel the same sense of vulnerability you had felt earlier. Everything seems more intimidating when you’re smaller and engulfed by darkness.

Heeseung’s voice cuts through the darkness, calm yet laced with concern. “I’ve found the edge. I’ll go first and help you down.” His grip on your hand tightens slightly, a reassuring squeeze that conveys both determination and comfort in equal measure.

“Be careful, Heeseung,” you whisper, your voice resonating faintly in the vast, silent tunnel.

Heeseung guides you to sit on the edge, his movements deliberate and careful. He positions himself next to you, his posture steady as he prepares to descend. “Wait there,” he instructs softly, before shifting his weight and gingerly sliding down the rough surface of the wall.

Each movement is cautious and deliberate. Heeseung avoids taking any unnecessary risks, mindful of the darkness that blankets you both. His hands grip the uneven edges of the wall, his feet finding purchase on the slight protrusions of the structure. He gently eases down until he finally finds stability on the ground.

Heeseung's mind races with unwelcome images of scurrying rats, the darkness amplifying his unease. His skin prickles with imagined sensations, the urge to escape the enclosed space growing stronger with each passing moment. He shakes off the disturbing thoughts, reminding himself firmly that he is in Scotland, far from the bustling streets of downtown New York.

Reaching out in the darkness, Heeseung’s hand finds your legs, and he squeezes them reassuringly, a silent gesture to remind you that he is there, a steady presence amidst the unsettling environment. "Okay, Y/N," he calls out, his voice a mix of relief and encouragement, "you can come down now."

You nod, though he cannot see it, your trembling arms inching closer to the edge. Your heart pounds in your chest, the platform feeling less secure than ever before. "Please catch me," you plead, your voice shaky with fear, hesitant to move until you hear his reassuring words.

"Always, Y/N. I’m right here," Heeseung murmurs, his lips pressing a kiss to your leg in a tender gesture of reassurance, letting his protective instincts guide him through the darkness, pushing aside his usual nervous demeanour.

Taking a shaky breath, you curse Heeseung inwardly for rendering your body weak with his earlier ministrations, his tongue that you were blessing now cursed in your mind. Your legs feel like jelly as you begin your descent, every movement wary. The darkness seems to press in around you, adding to your unease.

Heeseung’s hands are steady and sure as he guides you down, his touch gentle yet firm. You feel his support anchoring you, easing your fall despite the lingering fear. His presence beside you is a constant source of reassurance, his voice offering encouragement whenever doubt creeps in. “I got you, Y/N.”

Finally, your feet touch solid ground, the relief palpable as you stand in the blackout. Your hands find Heeseung’s waist, gratitude flooding your heart for his unwavering support through the ordeal as you stand there embracing one another.

"Thank you," you breathe, your voice a whisper of genuine appreciation as you lean into his reassuring touch. His thumbs graze your waist as he nods, “Like I said, always.”

With your hand securely in his, he moves meticulously and slowly through the maze of darkness and debris. You trust him completely and follow his path to safety. The tunnel echoes with the sound of your footsteps, the only audible reassurance in the otherwise eerie silence. Heeseung's grasp tightens encouragingly anytime you come across an invisible obstacle, his presence serving as a continuous anchor in the unnerving gloom.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity in the blackened tunnel, you emerge into the brightness of daytime at the end. The relief washes over you like a wave, the outside world a welcome contrast to the claustrophobic darkness you just escaped. Heeseung turns to you, his expression softened with relief and pride.

"We made it," he says softly, his voice carrying a mix of exhaustion and triumph. His hand squeezes yours gently. Nodding in agreement, you offer him a small smile back, just relieved to see his face once again.

There, at the edge of the moat, a ladder beckons you both to climb. Its rungs, weathered and rusted, speak of years spent in neglect. Despite its worn appearance, it stands as a symbol of escape and freedom from the underground labyrinth you ventured through.

Heeseung is just glad he doesn’t need to find another rusted tool to help him up this time. With a determined stride, he begins to ascend the ladder, each step bringing him closer to the surface and away from the shadows that had engulfed you moments before. The ladder creaks under his weight, but it holds steady, a testament to its enduring strength despite its aged appearance.

You follow closely behind, feeling the warm sunlight kiss your skin as you emerge from the depths. With each rung you climb, the darkness recedes further into memory, replaced by the promise of open skies and fresh air.

As you reach the top, Heeseung extends a hand to help you over the edge. Together, you stand on solid ground once more, the moat and tunnel behind you now a part of your shared adventure. The world around you seems brighter, more vivid, as if the ordeal has heightened your senses to appreciate the simplest joys of daylight and freedom.

Well, as much freedom as you have considering there is a whole national police force after you.

Looking at your saviour once more, you see your juices still drenched over his face and it elicits a small giggle from you. The sound causes Heeseung’s brows to quirk, questioning your sudden change in mood.

“You have a little something on your face,” you answer his silent question, reaching up to wipe him clean, your thumb brushes over his chin and cheeks, feeling the faint hint of stubble under your thumbprint. 

The moment is so tender despite the lewd action that resulted in this. His eyes fall shut as you continue to clean him, never missing a drop, leaving his mouth last. You lean up and kiss him ever so gently, his lips that are swollen from their labour meld with yours so beautifully, like they are made for you and only you.

As you kiss him, the tension of the moment begins to dissolve, replaced by a sense of intimacy and connection. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer as if to ensure you won't slip away. The stubble on his face grazes your skin gently, a contrast to the softness of his lips as they move against yours.

There's a lingering taste, a mix of sweetness and saltiness, that stays on his lips from moments before. It's a reminder of the passion shared, now tempered by this gentle act of cleaning up. 

When you finally break the kiss, your eyes meet his, and there's an unspoken understanding passing between you. It's not just about what happened, but about this moment of tenderness and care that followed. 

His fingers trace a delicate line from your waist to your jaw, his touch light yet firm, something u spoken lingering in the air. You lean into his touch, a small smile curving your lips, feeling the warmth of his hand as it cradles your face. The world around you seems to blur and fade, leaving only the two of you suspended in this moment of fragile yet profound intimacy.

Heeseung's heart pounds fiercely in his chest, each beat a testament to the whirlwind of emotions surging through him. Affection and reverence blend together, overwhelming his mind and filling him with a dizzying sense of attachment. Every fibre of his being is drawn to you, the intensity of his feelings almost nauseating in its potency.

He exhales slowly, his breath trembling as he gazes deeply into your eyes. His thumb strokes the apples of your cheeks, his touch gentle. He wants to tell you everything, to lay bare the depth of his emotions he feels for you.

"Y/N," he begins, his voice thick with emotion. "I think I-"

His words are abruptly cut off, his body tensing as he feels the cold, unforgiving pressure of a metallic object against the back of his head. The sudden intrusion of another presence is palpable, the heat radiating from the person standing dangerously close behind him.

"Don't fucking move."

taglist (closed): @yzzyhee @intromortal @zerobaseone-zhanghao @hooniehon @deobitifull @alvojake @sageryuri @slut4hee @binniesbabe @vveebee @minniejenseo @jebetwo @seunghancore @laurradoesloveu @yongbokified @jaehoonii @jaeyunluvr @melonvrs @criminalyun @enhastolemyheart @fakeuwus @flwrhoes @rayofsunshineeee @moonlighthoon @jaehyuniewifeu @en-ternals @haechonly @got-sunghooned @brownsugarbaybee @heeseungspookie @sunpov @who-tf-soddhi @bambangan

[daydreamer-in-reverie]

I think that, as a literary device, Finnick’s story is one of the most effective ones I have ever read.

When you think of victims of sex-related crimes, you so rarely think of a man.

In our modern society, we more often imagine women to be victims of such crimes. Beautiful women who are battered and bruised, their eyes holding that faraway gleam of pain and trauma. Sex-related violence against women is such a common occurrence that it is difficult to find a woman who doesn’t have intimate knowledge about it. Perhaps not every woman has been raped but every woman knows at least one who has. As young girls, we’re told so many things to try and prevent rape. Don’t go out by yourself at night. Be careful of what you wear. Don’t drink alcohol. Fight them off. And yet, if you did everything right and still fail at protecting yourself, just give in. Better raped than dead. Come home to your family and friends hurt and bruised but alive.

And it is this message that Finnick, a man, lives by.

Better taken advantage of, bruised and hurt, than dead. Better you than your parents or your siblings or Mags or Annie. Do whatever it takes to stay alive.

And, the thing is, we didn’t have to hear this story from him. We could have heard it from Cashmere.

In his propo to the Capitol, Finnick reveals that attractive Victors are pimped out by President Snow to the residents of the Capitol. One such Victor is Cashmere.

Knowing this layer of her story makes Cashmere the picture perfect victim. A woman who is repeatedly described as beautiful. She is a typical description of what a rape victim is. Suzanne could have used her character instead of Finnick’s to portray an instance so familiar to so many women and yet, she didn’t.

She chose Finnick. And I think the reason why she did that is because hearing it from Cashmere would have made the story fall flat.

Would we have blinked an eye had it been Cashmere who revealed the horrors of being a Victor? Would we have felt anything other than a vague sense of sympathy? I don’t think so. Like so many women before her, Cashmere’s story is so familiar to us that it no longer leaves that bitter taste in our mouths. We, as a society, have been so deeply desensitized to this plight that we no longer feel the same indignation we used to feel. Instead we are resigned to our fate. Cashemere isn’t the first victim of rape and she won’t be the last.

Yet to hear it from Finnick had us shocked. Finnick? A man? Attractive, to be sure, but he is at the prime of his life and yet he is a victim? Finnick, who can wield a trident so effectively he became the youngest Victor in the 75 years the Hunger Games operated, was raped? Finnick, who has literally killed people with his bare hands, was prostituted? Finnick, who cracked jokes about killing people was whored out by President Snow?

It is absurd! It is a bizarre and strange! It has to be untrue!

And yet it’s not.

Finnick being representative of that particular storyline was effective at reminding us of what it means to be victimized like that. And using Finnick, a man, instead of Cashmere, a woman, reminded us of why we have to be rightfully angry and upset about such things instead of resigned to our fates.

Suzanne Collins is an absolute literary genius.

[grahambaham]

Controversial opinion, especially for any Jason Todd fans out there (I'm one of them), but I completely understand why the fans in, the 80' I think, voted to kill him off. Hear me out, okay?

Jason was at first a literal Dick Grayson copy, was legit given his backstory and personality with the name being the only change. And for a while that was all they knew about and, rightfully so, hated about him. Now I'm not sure whether he was given the whole Alley kid who tried to steal Batman's tire story before or after his death but either way, in those fans' minds, Jason Todd was just a boring replica of Dick Grayson and no one liked him. If I was alive and a fan back then, I honestly would have done the same thing.

WHICH IS WHY I HAVE SUCH A HUGE PROBLEM WITH THE WRITERS DOING TO JASON THE EXACT SAME THING THAT GOT HIM KILLED OFF BEFORE!!!

Jason immediately after getting brought back to life was a villain. He wasn't misguided, he wasn't an antihero, my man was a Villain with a capital V. He didn't protect workings girls or children from any drugs or anything, he just made one off hand comment to a guy not to sell to kids and that's it. One of his only interactions with any prostitutes is to mock her for her past and decisions that led to her becoming one. Bruce did not abuse him or attack him unfairly. Jason had not only tried to kill Joker or other horrible villains, he killed anyone whether they were rapists, or robbers, or petty fucking thieves and he didn't do it for justice or whatever the fuck but because he was angry and taking it out on everyone he could get his hands on. He stopped Batman from going after Nightwing after Bludhaven blew up with him in it. He blew up a school. He beat up Tim in his little Robin panties and was a fucking villain.

I love Jason. But I love him as the messed up asshole he is. Not as some misguided wittle antihero. Which is why I despise the fact that the fandom latched onto the completely inaccurate version of him, because the writers of DC had started writing him the way the fandom wanted and he is now irreversibly ruined. Aside from the already mentioned stuff, they made him into a copy of Dick Grayson (for the second fucking time) and Helena Bertinelli.

Helena is the one protecting women and children, the antihero that often uses violent force. She's the one with the reluctant sibling relationship with Tim. Jason was not Tim's Robin by the way, Dick was. Tim does not like Jason one fucking bit and spends most of their forced interactions roasting him so bad he has to buy burn salves. Also her personality was taken and given to Jason in some ways too, like her manner of speech and stuff, but I'm willing to let that slide as accidental.

From Dick Grayson, they mostly took his relationships, romantic and platonic. Jason slept with Barbara and Kori both, which aside from just being dumb as hell is also weird and creepy because Jason is six years younger than them at least and they knew him as a fourteen year old when they were at least twenty, and they would never date someone so much younger than them, they aren't fucking creeps. Then they took Starfire and Arsenal and made them forget their own lives to join Jason's little antihero team (neither of them are antiheroes what the fuck) and act like the sun shines out of Jason's ass and he's their leader or some shit when they would never follow him before that, especially Roy who has led so many other teams and does not deserve that shit. Some fans also ship him and Jason, which is both creepy and character assassination for Roy's entire character more than him being friends with Jason and in the Outlaws already is.

Also, Pit Madness is not a thing you fucking brainless losers. Stop trying to justify and erase the flaws that make him an interesting character. His anger has always been due to the trauma of being tortured and dying and the misguided feeling of betrayal he felt for Bruce. He was unwell and taking his problems out on others. So, repeat after me: PIT MADNESS IS NOT A REAL THING!!!

Thank you for reading <3

[starlight-bread-blog]

Zuko and Katara Won't Enable Each Other

Disclaimer: If you've read my stance on healthy couples in fiction, you know I'm not gonna care if they would, in fact, enable each other. Flaws & struggles are realistic and have a place in fiction. However, I do disagree with this sentiment and generally love to talk about Zuko and Katara's dynamic. So, here I am.

——————

One of the most common protests to Zuko and Katara as a pairing is the following:

Zuko and Katara are both prone to anger and making emotion-driven decisions. They must never be together, or they'll enable each other's worst tendencies.

One things needs to be clear. When making an argument it is with utmost importance to cite the text. Textual evidence is the proof one doesn't make things up to push their view. Without it, the argument becomes worthless words with no grounds in reality. So, what textual evidence do those who make the argument above cite?

In The Southern Raiders, Katara was going to murder her mother's killer. Such act would weight heavy on someone like her. It's an impulsive and dangerous decision. But Zuko didn't try to stop it, he was enabling that fury.

I've already discussed The Southern Raiders in-depth in its own post, so I won't repeat myself much here. On the post I explain that The Southern Raiders dealt with anger that Katara has been harboring since she was eight, it dealt with her deepest trauma. And by the end of the episode, Katara is changed by the experience, and Zuko admits to have been wrong and grows.

Therefore, The Southern Raiders is an outlier and would not repeat itself under normal circumstances. It is not textual evidence for Zuko and Katara enabling each other in a future romantic relationship. Thus, the argument has no textual evidence and can be disragarded.

If their dynamic is healthy, not enabling, shouldn't there be textual evidence to suggest this?

Not necessarily, since we didn't have much time with Zuko and Katara as friends. Additionally, the burden of proof is placed on those who make the claim. However, I did manage to gather some textual evidence that their dynamic already isn't what people describe it to be in canon.

Exhibit A: Sozin's Comet, Part 1: The Phoenix King

Here, Katara was already rightfully pissed off at A\ang for avoiding what, at the time, seemed to be his duty as the Avatar. She was going to angrily chase him, but Zuko rationally explained to her why he doesn't think it's a good idea. And she understood and calmed down.

Zuko doesn't enable Katara's rage and Katara doesn't keep pushing once she's offered a logical solution. They made a rational decision when it was the easiest to get even rightfully angry.

Exhibit B: Sozin's Comet, Part 2: The Old Masters

A\ang left them in the worst possible time. Katara already has abandonment issues (see: The Awakening), and the force he was supposed to fight is Zuko's abusive father. But they know they have to keep calm and track him down.

If they were controlled by their emotions together, we would see them get worked up. But we don't. Katara and Zuko once again made a rational decision.

Exhibit C: Sozin's Comet, Part 3: Into the Inferno

Zuko accepting Azula's offer to an Agni Kai could easily be seen as irrational. He would want to prove he can beat her. But when Katara thinks Zuko is making an emotion-based decision, she calls him out.

And even insists on it.

And then Zuko reveals that he did think clearly all along, and had a logical reasoning:

——————

In conclusion, the argument that Zuko and Katara would enable each other has no textual evidence. Time and time again they are proven able to make rational decisions without enabling each other's emotions. Thank you for reading.

[actual-changeling]

okay but can we PLEASE allow crowley to have emotions? can we let him be angry, upset, bitter, frustrated, and NOT immediately want to forgive aziraphale? can we let him be a complex being with complex emotions and trauma who is allowed to be heartbroken over aziraphale choosing heaven instead of him?

yes, they love each other. yes, they both hurt each other in that final argument. yes, neither of them is completely wrong or right.

for six thousand years, crowley has done *everything* to accommodate aziraphale. he has swallowed his emotions, crossed his own boundaries, tried again and again to get aziraphale to listen to him so he can finally make him understand how the fall changed him and how deeply fucked up the entire heaven/hell system is. it is why i cannot see the apology dance seen as "cute" or "romantic" because it's crowley once again ignoring his emotions to save aziraphale from heaven and himself; he did NOTHING wrong! aziraphale should be the one apologizing, not crowley.

and while yes, aziraphale has been on his own journey and is struggling with his own trauma, he needs to start putting crowley before his personal comfort. he needs to stop expecting crowley to throw his feelings in the wind and come crawling back to him with an apology on his lips.

the final argument was crowley saying he's DONE doing that. he's done meeting aziraphale on his side, either they'll meet in the middle or not at all - and rightfully so. aziraphale hasn't been listening to him this season, he never has.

do you really think if crowley had given him the details of the trial in heaven, gabriel's trial, anything at all that aziraphale would have believed him? no! he wouldn't have! his entire schtick is finding increasingly insane explanations for the shit heaven pulls so it doesn't contradict his personal view of it.

their relationship has never been healthy, unconditional love is NOT healthy or good. it's simply not. crowley is allowed to have hard boundaries and conditions, he's allowed to not forgive him immediately (or at all, although we all know he eventually will). aziraphale is ALSO allowed to be upset. i know that we all want them to be together and happy, but trauma recovery and personal growth aren't that simple. they're both more than the relationship they have with each other.

[sokkastyles]

​That the Katara detractors keep up this insistence on being seemingly hard of hearing regarding The Southern Raiders is a continual annoyance, sweet Christ in heaven. What she said was that Sokka didn't love Kya the way she did... that that was in response to *Sokka* saying that, “Aang might be right”... that she need *forgive* the man who M U R D E R E R E D T H E I R M O T H E R, who burned her to death, whose actions had it so an 8 year old Katara walked in on the sight of her mother’s charred corpse and so smelt her burnt flesh. 😑 That Sokka seemingly has no real desire on his part to go and confront their mother's murderer, to Katara I'm sure might take to be an insult to Kya's memory, it's not just that but for Sokka to suggest that Katara's wanting to do so might very well be w r o n g. T_T So yeah, she lashed out, I should damn well hope she did, like, you expect anything else?!

Do you know what also gets me about it? All the memes that act like Katara brings up her trauma unprompted at every opportunity (she doesn't) and then when someone says something insensitive to her about her trauma and how she should deal with it, she should just keep silent.

And even if you don't think Sokka was being insensitive, Aang was, and Sokka acting like Aang was being rational when he was actually being very dismissive and flippant is something Katara should rightfully be angry about.

Also, the way Sokka frames it isn't helpful and is entirely about himself, not about what Katara is feeling. Even the "she was my mother, too..." comes across as an attempt to invalidate how Katara feels the same way Aang says "how do you think I felt when I lost Appa/my people." They make it about themselves and their loss rather than empathizing and then act like their feelings give them authority over how Katara should feel. And she's right to be upset about that.

[dotthings]

Okay, strap in, I'm going deep dive on Dean and Cas during their S15 breakup and going to address some things about The Trap. (It's long, there's a lot to unpack).

Castiel: What he did wasn't bad. It was the absence of good. And I saw that in him. But we were a family, and I didn't want to lose that, so I thought I could fix it on my own. Felt like it was my responsibility. So I left. And I didn't tell you. If I could go back and just -- just talk to him right then and there, I would. But I can't, Dean. I failed you. And I failed Jack. And I failed --

(14.18, Absence)

What Cas was about to say it seems, when Dean cut him off, was that he failed Mary, along with Dean, and Jack.

Cas is fully acknowledging his culpability and his failures.

His clinging to the idea he had to fix it on his own is similar to his S6 mindsets, but with way less hubris. This isn't about his hubris, but it's a holdover of Cas's stubbornness.

It's not true there was no growth. There's no arrogance in Cas now. That doesn't mean he's over all his neurosis. That's not how this works. But it's not the same as the past.

Why is Cas expected to be over everything and never backslide from some people, while Dean gets sympathy and understanding when he does? Neither of them cleanly break from their traumas and old patterns, they do grow, they do move forward, it's not repeating the same.

It's also patently untrue that Cas never owns up to his mistakes, never apologizes, never suffers consequences. Cas has owned up to his mistakes. Even sometimes pulls penance down on himself on purpose.

He doesn't just play at being sorry.

Dean's subjective pov from years ago (from late S7), at a point where Dean was understandably and rightfully hurt, frustrated, angry, but also scared for Cas, so he lashes out, terrified because Cas was suffering from PTSD, unable to fight, and he isn't the Cas he knows. He knows something's wrong. So Dean threw a board game onto the floor. It was all completely understandable to me and I felt for Dean. But it's interesting how this gets weaponized against Cas so people can claim Cas isn't actually sorry he just plays at being sorry, as if this is exposing some deep objective Truth, just like people take Dean's words in The Rupture that Cas is always the screw up as some deep objective Truth. When Dean is speaking from hurt, anger, fear.

Cas repeatedly apologizes to Dean in early S15.

He is not huffy because Dean didn't insta-forgive him.

The moment that broke Cas, where he decided to leave, was when he perceived Dean's walls against him to be so high and so rigid, Cas lost hope that anything would get better, that he could ever be forgiven. He really thought it was all over.

Remember that Dean already said, if Mary's dead, "you're dead to me" Remember Dean just said to Cas, "why does that something always seem to be you" about things going wrong, saying Cas is always the screw up.

Cas did not leave because Dean was mad at him.

Cas endured Dean being mad at him for how many episodes, late S14 through early S15, he didn't tell Dean he had no right to be, he didn't run away from it, he endured, and he repeatedly apologized.

Why did Cas leave, why did he leave, not because he saw Dean was angry. But because he lost hope.

Cas wasn't wrong to put some space, that's right for Dean as well as Cas, at that point, but he was wrong in his perceptions, and Cas's perceptions are heavily driven by his insecurities.

The same reasons that partly drove why he latched onto Jack so hard--loneliness, a need to feel useful, a need to feel needed.

While he's away Cas realizes he was wrong to give up. He gets a tiny sign that Dean still cares, and he comes back to try to fix it instead of running away.

It's not true there is no growth.

Cas goes back, things are tense but they are able to work together for a greater good and greater emergency.

And Cas volunteers to stand at Dean's side and return with Dean to Purgatory, where the leviathans who very specifically and personally hate Cas's guts and they all want him destroyed exist.

Don't tell me!!! Cas doesn't care about Dean!!!!!!

Dean wants to split up. He's still mad at Cas, he's allowed. But Cas rightfully points out that's more dangerous than staying together.

Don't tell me there's no growth!!!

In their first trip to Purgatory, Cas ran from Dean, to try to protect Dean. Despite Dean regarding it as abandonment, before Dean knew why Cas ignored his prayers every night, he still ransacked Purgatory, torturing monsters, looking for Cas. Refused to leave Purgatory without Cas. Even though he was angry and hurt.

When he finds Cas and Cas tells him the reason he hid from Dean--trying to draw the leviathans, to keep them away from Dean to protect Dean, Dean is absolutely gobsmacked.

This time, Cas knows it's better if they stay together. That he can protect Dean better if they stay together.

They have this conversation in Purgatory:

CAS: Well, this place will bring that out in you. Guilt. It was my fault the Leviathan got out. It was my fault we were here the first time. I carry that guilt every day. DEAN: I know you're sorry, Cas. About Bel, about Mom. CAS: I was talking about Jack. I already apologized to you. You just refused to hear it.

Let's unpack what is being said here. Cas comments on how Purgatory is a place that brings out feelings of guilt. He then acknowledges his culpability for S6, the leviathans, and that it was his fault he and Dean wound up thrown there at the end of S7. Dean says he already knows Cas is sorry about the screw up concerning Cas impulsively burning up Bel, and about what happened to Mary. Cas says he was thinking of his feelings of guilt about Jack, that he already apologized to Dean for the other things. And accuses Dean of not listening to him. Which isn't really true, but as far as Cas knows it's true because he has no way of knowing Dean really heard him, because Dean was putting up walls of iron.

DEAN: Sorry I brought it up. Maybe if you didn't just up and leave us. CAS: You didn't give me a choice. You couldn't forgive me. And you couldn't move on. You were too angry. I left, but you didn't stop me.

Getting down to the real roots of it now, Dean lets out a little confession. He's hurt about Cas leaving.

After Dean said "you're dead to me," after Dean said Cas is always the problem. Dean's mad at Cas, he's also mad at Cas for leaving. Get out--no wait, where are you going why are you leaving me.

Again, Dean is understandably hurt and he is really going through it with the inner conflict. He has rights to all his feelings. Pushing Cas away and wanting/needing him to stay at the same time, I can understand how Dean would be so conflicted.

There's nothing from either of them I don't understand, or that isn't understandable or sympathetic.

And Cas points that out, that Dean was putting up such high walls, Cas didn't know what else to do except leave. Is Cas being completely fair in how he words it? No. He's not immune to subjectivity and speaking from a place of hurt and frustration and fear of being rejected and making assumptions.

But he's not mad at Dean for being angry and this isn't canon saying Dean is wrong to be angry. "You couldn't move on" "you were too angry"--This was not a reprimand on Dean being angry. This was Cas explaining why he left. Cas left (as Cas explains) because a) it seemed self evident to Cas that Dean was never going to forgive him b) it seemed self evident to Cas that Dean was so angry at Cas there was no hope to fix it and that Dean no longer wanted him there.

It seems like a really bad faith reading to me to accuse Cas here of lecturing Dean on his anger, when what is actually happening is Cas is explaining why he left, because he can see Dean is hurt that Cas left.

And why is it from some people Dean is allowed his insecurities, his anger, his fears, but Cas has to be absolutely perfect and has to speak perfectly and without any subjectiveness, projections, or misunderstandings, at all times?

Cas feels deeply, as Dean does. He has feelings. He's a fully fleshed out character, as Dean is. A complicated character, and like Dean, with his own buzzing nest of trauma and insecurities in his brain.

"I left but you didn't stop me" finally Cas really getting to the heart of the thing. The actual root thing bothering him. Not that Dean was angry. It's that Dean let him leave without saying anything to try to stop him.

While Dean is hurt and feeling abandoned because Cas left.

This isn't about anger shaming Dean at all.

Cas isn't angry at Dean for being angry.

It is as simple in fact as Cas's fear of being unwanted, and wanting Dean to ask him to stay, and Dean's fear of being abandoned, and wanting Cas not to leave.

And then there's Dean's desperate prayer to Cas, which is another highly misunderstood scene, which gets taken as Dean "groveling" begging for Cas's forgiveness when it's entirely about Dean's own need to give forgiveness to Cas. Maybe, somewhat, saying what Cas needs to hear so Cas will stay, but it is most of all about what Dean needed to say, the same as Cas's happiness was saying what he did to Dean in 15.18. Just getting to say it. And having it be heard, is enough.

Because beneath all that absolutely justifiable anger and hurt, Dean doesn't want to lose Cas, he never actually meant for Cas to leave, didn't actually deep down want Cas to leave, and he doesn't want to lose Cas forever to Purgatory.

And Dean has a lot of fears about his anger. That he's nothing but anger, that he's only good for killing monster. This is Dean, who thinks he's "poison," who thinks people he loves are better off away from him. That isn't authorial voice. That is Dean's own fears. He can't see his own love, his own big heart. He can't see his own kindness and empathy and how deeply he loves and feels and his own goodness.

But Cas can. Cas never doubted that Dean was good or that Dean is the most caring loving human ever, what Cas doubted was about Dean still caring about him.

And then he realized he was wrong. Before Purgatory II, before hearing Dean's prayer even, he already figured out he was wrong in his assumptions on how Dean felt about him, but Dean still needed to say it, and I think Cas did need to hear it even if he already knew.

How people think Dean's anger is a late seasons invention utterly baffles me. But it's not that Dean being angry is wrong, it's that how people express their anger has ripple effects. Because that's true of everyone!!!!!!! If this reads to people as "anger shaming" then they are endorsing the idea that people should just let their anger eat them alive and destroy everything, burn it all down, no matter how much harm it does for the person who is angry.

What Dean is scared of is that his anger, the way it expressed, the hard walls he put up, the words he said, going against what was actually deep in his heart, chased Cas away when he didn't mean for that to happen.

Dean could have yelled at Cas and giving him the cold shoulder in the bunker and Cas would have endured it, if Cas hadn't gotten the impression Dean absolutely no longer wanted him around.

Is Cas completely blameless? Of course not. He made his mistakes. And he could have been more perceptive about Dean and not let his own insecurities dominate how he views things but given how driven by insecurities Dean's pov on Cas is, how is it people want to turn Cas into the monster, and only comprehend Dean, when Cas is a mirror to Dean?

Some truly can't let go of the idea that Cas into an unfeeling monster who doesn't really love Dean, that Cas is selfish and manipulative and abusive and that he doesn't care about Dean.

I want to go out into the woods and scream.

[galactic-rhea]

Do you guys ever think about how the generational cycles of abuse slowly crumble in The Simpsons? Do you ever think about it?

I love The Simpsons, and by no means it's supposed to be taken as a show that takes itself seriously, because it doesn't. But yet it handles heavy themes, it does handle strong subjects, particularly first seasons had certain, strong character's driven episodes meant to actually make you take it seriously. Even later seasons, albeit it becomes less and less of a thing (it becomes a bit heartless), has certain episodes like that. And is what makes The Simpsons a bit unique on the adult shows landmine.

Not to say it's completely original on this, because The Simpsons come from an era where sitcoms were everywhere, and sitcoms tend to be 70% comedy and then a few strong, heart-felt moments. This is because to keep you laughing, you need downs, otherwise, joke after joke after joke, you get a monotone story were there's no stakes nor pauses between a punchline and another. Comedy needs a tiny bit of seriousness, so you feel your feet on the ground, and then they will throw at you a joke, that, if is well written, is meant to surprise you, you don't see it coming. In the Simpsons, many of the classic jokes you remember best? You don't see them coming, not really, because the way they wrote the jokes in the simpsons is actually very clever, if I were to graph them, there would be several curves and points because they're jokes within jokes within jokes.

And then is a bit of dark humour, that is meant to reasonate with the audience somehow. So you laugh a bit at the fact that Homer's dad let him drink beer just so he would stop bothering him, but then the show makes you care, sometimes, about Homer being extremely hostile with his very old dad. But then you also laugh at the fact Homer's mom was a hippie, a rebel hippie, at that, that took him to Woodstock and is one of Homer's happiest memories of his childhood, and then you don't expect her literally dying.

And returning, in a way, just because she wants Homer and his family to continue what she started, and the show makes you care, the show makes you feel for the characters. Because Abe is a war veteran, he was awful to Homer and to his wife, but you also know he cared, and you also feel bad because he lives in a retirement home and wants to live with Homer and his family, but Homer will literally start the engine and leave him there, and at his age, he doesn't deserve that, but what does he deserve? Should Homer forgive him for everything? No, not really, you don't have to forgive abusers, but then it gets messy and complex because abusers don't deserve to be abused.

Homer, however, does forgive Abe, sometimes (and because of the nature of the show, it gets retconned, or forgotten, or brushed away, and etc). But more interestingly, he forgives his mom. Homer's mom was a much nicer parent, she was kind and Homer's refuge for happiness, so it's easy to forgive her, despite the fact that leaving Homer with someone like Abe was certainly, not a good choice, and we know that many, MANY of Homer's problems, all come rooted from either trauma or behaviours he learned from his childhood. And he's rightfully angry about it, he acts a bit like a rebellious teenager, because Homer is fairly inmature and this is because a extremely troubled youth.

But he forgives her right when she's literally a corpse in a chair, and then the closure comes from finishing what she started years ago as a radical environmentalist advocate.

So Homer knows, extremely well from first hand, his parents' flaws, and he is, to some degree, aware of how these affected him, which is more than most of the audience he represents realizes. But he's still an awful parent. He is abusive, towards Bart, but he also cares and tries deeply. He does an incredible much better job as a parent and as a partner than his parents.

And that's still not enough. That's not enough because trying doesn't mean sucess. The nature of the show makes it a bit harder, because sometimes it can be uqite inconsistent. There's a whole episode focused on how Homer decided to give up a lot and to stay under the awful working conditions from Mr. Burns because of Maggie, and then there are episodes where he literally forgets he has a third child.

But that's still better, somehow, than his upbringing. The bar was low, quite low, but he doesn't know anything else, and yet tries to be something different. And that's, from a narrative sense, interesting.

The cycle is breaking, is not completely over, is not a good job, but it is an attempt, it is watering down the abuse, it is making it less awful. Is like trying to purify a river, you're starting to remove the trash bags, you blocked the wastes tubes, the water is still contaminated, there's no grass and the ground is infertile. But it's a start, you need to start somewhere.

And then, in the futures episodes with Bart (and Lisa, and Maggie, even) we learn that, he isn't doing that much better either. Bart is divorced, his ex hates him because he's inmature and his children aren't very fond of him. Lisa's marriage is a bit of a mess, and her relationship with her daughter echoes a bit the one she had with Marge and Homer: She can't understand her, there's a lack of cummunication.

But it's still incredible, much better, than what they knew while growing up. Bart tries to be more responsible, he isn't abusive, his problem is that he's inmature and therefore can't connect with his children. But he doesn't quite yell at them, or tries to choke them (at least in the future episodes I remember, there are several). And unsurprisingly, he resents Homer a lot, which is logical, given everything, but he's also baffled that his children love Homer, and as a grandparent, he actually does quite a good job.

And the cycle is almost completely broken. Perhaps you can't absolutely clean it all, at least not in so few years, but it's happening and the change and evolution is logical, despite it being a sitcom, it is quite well written and sadly realistic. Bart and Lisa and Maggie don't have perfect lives as adults, and they struggle and the narrative shows you that a lot of these struggles come from their toxic enviroment.

And they're still doing better, because Homer and Marge chose to do slightly better than their parents. And so the cycle is near to the end.

I could talk about Marge, but sadly, in terms of her upbringing, there isn't much, besides the fact that she grew in a conservative home. We know her mother told her to held back tears and always pretend to be happy and force a smile, which is how she carried out in her life in many facets. And then we see she tries, at first, to teach the same to Lisa, and then decides to break that rule, to break what she forced herself to do and let Lisa be sad and express her emotions fully.

We also know she was quite bullied by her older sisters, and she's the one to always try to stop fights between Lisa and Bart, and the first one to try to stop rivalry between them when Homer tried to make them fight the other for attention.

Marge is flawed in a sense that she internalized a lot of misoginy and conservative ideals and then, sometimes, she tries to spread it, unwillingly, because is what she knows. Despite this, we know she supports Lisa's interests in studying and artistic skills. We know her mother was cold, and a bit detached, but Marge tries to be as warm and supportative as possible.

The Simpsons reasonates, mostly, with a generation that came from similar home enviroments, and, to some degree, some people in the audience could realize of their own flawed origins or how they carried those flaws, because I think the creators and writers had this in mind, the change and the struggle with trauma, the "not being good, but being better than what I remember".

So there's that. Deeply, deeeply flawed people that were raised in awful enviroments, and ultimately fail at being "good" parents, but they tried to change, and they tried to be better, and trying does matter in the end , because it's a start. They didn't end the cycle, but they planted the seeds for it. And to me, that's extremely interesting, and more so because this is the fricking Simpsons, a comedy, but like the context and narrative it generates, reasonates deeply with me despite not being for any of the generations the Simpsons represent, I'm a queer person in their 20s that was raised and still lives with an awful, awful family, but that I know their upbrinding was just so so so so much worse. And I know they try, and is not enough, and I can't quite forgive that, but I can see they try. And I know the cycle ends with me, at the very least.

[frangipanilove]

Full Circle Apple Symbolism; Rick's "Resurrection" in TOWL

From TWD 10x13 What We Become to TOWL 1x6 The Last Time

Apple symbolism was always tied to Rick and Michonne specifically, but in a more general sense, it tells a story about reunion, rebirth and resurrection.

In TWD 10x13 What We Become, Michonne went with Virgil to his island, because he insisted there were weapons to be found there, and Michonne needed weapons for the Whisperers war.

Once there, things took a turn. There were no weapons, and Virgil wasn't in a great place, psychologically speaking. He was confused and traumatized after the loss of his wife and children. He trapped Michonne in a room, and poisoned her by mixing Jimsonweed into her tea.

My favorite way to decipher symbolism in TWDU is through etymology. Almost everything in TWDU has multiple layers of symbolism, and an etymology search is helpful in most cases. This one was no exception; the name Jimsonweed is ultimately derived from a Hindi name which translates to "thorn apple".

Yup. Jimsonweed is ultimately an apple reference. In fact, "Jimsonweed" goes under the name "thorn apple" in many languages, my own included.

The first apple reference of the episode came as we watched Virgil pick the hallucinogenic plant immediately after the opening credits. There would be more to come later...

Michonne did not have a pleasant reaction to the drug. She hallucinated herself in a series of alternate existences, such as being one of the Saviors, and not being around her real family. After the drugs wore off, she overpowered Virgil, and scolded him for putting her in a drugged out state where she experienced having temporarily lost her family:

Then she asked him about his hallucinations:

And this is where we start to touch on the true meaning behind the symbolism around apples. Because, unlike Michonne, Virgil experienced that the hallucinogenic thorn apple brought his family back to him:

"What do you see when you're tripping anyway?"

"Lisa with that damn camera pointed at everyone.

My babies.

Bobby and me lying on the roof of that Annex, looking up at the stars."

It brought his family back.

Virgil wasn't primarily evil, he was broken from the trauma of losing his family.

There's a parallel with Rick there. Where Rick survived in the CRM by meeting up with his loved ones in his dreams, Virgil got to be with his family by taking hallucinogenic herbs. They both found ways to stay close to their loved ones through an altered state, Rick through his dreams, Virgil through the thorn apple tea.

On a surface level, it's clear that Michonne had a bad trip from the thorn apple, and that she was shook by what she experienced as a temporary loss of her family. She was rightfully angry about having been drugged. Virgil, more confused and traumatized than evil, explained that he had wanted to help her because he could tell she was in pain over having lost loved ones, much like himself.

Michonne was not impressed, but at the very least she didn't kill him.

However, under the surface, the apple symbolism heralds "reunion, rebirth and resurrection", something which she was about to discover:

Virgil took her to a boat marked with the numbers 672, in which she found Rick's boots and an Apple iPhone with etchings of herself and Judith. It was the same boat we later saw in 11x24 Rest In Peace, when we saw Rick throw his backpack onboard, before being recaptured.

This is the first "proof of life" both we, the audience, and Michonne got from Rick, and it was the apple symbolism that led us here. Because, apple symbolism is about reunion, resurrection and rebirth.

As we know, finding the Apple iPhone and his boots was what convinced her Rick could be alive, it was what encouraged her to leave to search for Rick.

We recently watched her succeed at finding him in TOWL, but not without some resistance from a deeply traumatized Rick.

In TOWL 1x4 What We, which is the episode where Rick fully "came back", the episode where he finally broke free and chose "life" with Michonne over staying "dead" in the CRM, we learned that he had initially gotten through the days in the CRM by meeting up with Carl in his dreams.

Then that had stopped, Carl had stopped coming to him in his dreams.

Michonne had gotten an iPhone with an etching of Carl, and implored Rick to do what Carl would have wanted him to do, which led to a psychological breakthrough for Rick.

This was Rick's true "resurrection", this was when he fully "surrendered" to Michonne, to his family, to "life". It was the Apple iPhone with Carl's picture that truly made Michonne able to reach through to him, through all the layers of trauma and isolation accumulated over time.

On a symbolic level, the apple symbolism and the Apple iPhones were what facilitated this reunion between Rick and Michonne. He had survived in the CRM by "being dead", then the Apple iPhone with Carl's picture "brought him back to life".

This symbolized Rick's "resurrection", this was the true purpose of the apple symbolism all along. Apple symbolism is about "reunion, resurrection and rebirth"!

Similarly, it was the Apple iPhone Michonne found in the boat on Virgil's island that made her believe that Rick could truly be alive, it was the Apple iPhone that convinced her he was out there, that made her go out searching for him.

Apple symbolism as something that heralds reunion, resurrection and rebirth had started with Virgil picking the white thorne apple flower in 10x13 What We Become, and was fulfilled with Rick's "resurrection" in TOWL 1x4 What We.

In 1x6 The Last Time, we see Rick utilize this new insight during Major General Beale's Echelon briefing:

"He brought me back".

The Apple iPhone with Carl's picture brought him back. Back to Michonne, back to his family, back to himself, back to life.

Just like how the thorn apple tea brought Virgil's family back to him, the Apple iPhone with Carl's picture brought Rick back to his family.

Then finally, we see the apple symbolism fulfilled one last time:

We see Michonne holding the Apple iPhone she originally found on Virgil's island, the one that convinced her that Rick could be alive, the one that prompted her to go out searching for him. We see this phone, with etchings of herself and Judith just as the apple symbolism comes full circle:

The final reunion, resurrection and rebirth!

[therealicething]

Filbrick doesnt have to be a mustache twirling bad guy to be an asshole

Okay so CW for talk abt child abuse and shitty parenting

The interesting thing about filbrick is that the way stan describes him is the way a lot of boomers describe their parents.

The parents of boomers belonged to "the silent generation", they were people who went through generational traumas like. The great depression and ww2. These were people with lots of trauma and no therapy so they got to pass it down to their kids yay!

Also parenting styles were different then, and during the 50s/and The Post War Conformity and 60s: children were not largely acknowledged as their own people. They were raised to be mini versions of their parents, there was not a consideration for a child as an individual.

So Filbrick was a bad parent, yes. But he was also in a Context where what we consider to be child abuse was normalized.

Theres a tendency to make things 1 dimensional and say an abusive person always has to have the full intention to hurt someone just to hurt them and must be purely evil and set to torture with no love at all.

But like, the way Filbrick acted towards his sons was likely considered unfortunately normal or even Good. He may have even loved them in the way he knew how or was supposed to, but that doesnt mean he couldnt also do hurtful or even abusive things.

And that probably actually makes it worse for Stan and Ford. If someone does a thing that hurts you and you Know that something was wrong, you can at least feel rightfully angry about it.

If its normalized then you dont get that catharsis. You are left thinking that what happened to you was the way it was supposed to be. Filbrick doesnt need to be extremely abusive to have hurt his kids, he might even have loved them. But that doesnt mean he didnt hurt them too! If he did or did not makes little difference.

[ghost-bxrd]

what if jason wasn’t ever pit mad? what if his actions were his own regardless of how the family try to find something to blame? what if maybe possibly nothing got twisted, he just feels hurt and betrayed and rightfully angry to an extent that he cannot ignore, what would he have to say to dick or tim or bruce in that circumstance? he is so angry and the joker isn’t even around to deflect any of it. he cant come home because someone is in his place. the one person he always turned to wasn’t there. he doesn’t know who he is anymore and he can never go back to how things were. bruce didn’t believe him when he said the guy fell was so quick to assume the worst so why would he ever believe them when they try and tell him they miss him

I’m not sure if this is meant for a particular Au or in a more general sense, but I see what you’re getting at.

Yes I love pit madness, but this is also something super interesting (and important!) because it really plays into psychology.

Jason is suffering from PTSD that, as far as I know, has never been formally acknowledged or treated in a healthy way (the way it was in Gotham Knights, which, once again, I love that game). And you know what’s also part of PTSD? Anger. Anger management issues. Anxiety. Volatility. The whole nine yards.

Of course those symptoms don’t apply to everybody who has PTSD, so please don’t quote me on that, but for Jason they do.

He comes back to life. His previous trauma of being literally beaten within an inch of his life and then blown up only made worse by the experience of having to crawl out of his own grave. And then he gets taken and manipulated by a cult of assassins, made to believe Bruce replaced him with a new kid as soon as he was in the ground.

It’s… not a good combination for the kind of trauma Jason’s been through. If we assume he was in a vulnerable state of mind to begin with (which is entirely valid with what we know went down) and then subjected to ruthless training that didn’t teach him how to handle his trauma in any other way than violence? To direct his anger and despair at something tangible (Bruce and Tim and Joker) instead of coming to terms with the root of it all?

I think at that point Jason was grasping at straws. Something to keep himself afloat with. If he didn’t have his anger and his resentment towards his old life and the people in it, he would have been left with only fear and sadness and perhaps even a sort of vacancy that’s very difficult to handle without help.

The anger and the violence was better than the alternative.

[chaos-of-the-abyss]

you know, i was gonna go all sanctimonious on you and say elwing should at least forgive the feanorians (but never forget what they did to her kin) and finally release all that hatred because she can't hold on to that for so long, and its not like the feanorians are gonna be forever ashamed but midway i started remembering all the shit i had to read about elwing, all the stupid ass takes, all the hc portraying her in a bad light, all the misogynistic attitude towards her character, even going as far as having her own sons (who canonically love her) call her cunt and then i was like, you know what, fuck em bitches, elwing deserves to scream at them, let her be angry and spiteful without being shamed and punished for it, twice she lost her home and had to make a big sacrifice, and still the sympathy is given towards her aggressors and god remembering that made my blood pressure high, so yeah, elwing should drop kick them, or slap them. she can live in aman and still hate on them. also because Kendrick made me realize i can never be the biggest hater lmao

i used to have the same mindset re: elwing forgiving the feanorians, and i'm not necessarily against content where she lets go of that burning hatred for them for her own sake so long as they are rightfully emphasized as the aggressors and she the victim of their actions, and as long as it's made clear that they do not and will never deserve her forgiveness and that she would be just as valid and right to not forgive them -- but ykw anon? you're so right lol. i don't like the notion that she has to forgive them, even for her peace of mind; i think it's completely untrue. you can absolutely hate someone and not forgive them while still living a good life and being happy with what you have. like, is anyone going to argue that feanor has to forgive morgoth if he wants to be a truly happy and content person? and the feanorians did far worse to elwing than morgoth ever did to feanor. i'm ok with them fading into obscurity in her mind as the years go by and she heals from all the trauma they inflicted on her, but the idea that she must, at any point, make the choice to soften up towards them? nope lol. let her disdain them, let her be disgusted at them, and let them keep being ashamed for all that they did to her. it's what she -- and they -- deserve.

oh and also lmao at people having her own sons call her something like that. the delusion and wishful thinking are strong bc both elrond and elros canonically honor their mother and their heritage from her, and no amount of misogyny and victim-blaming those people cough up is going to change that ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[the-path-to-redemption]

Really late because only yesterday I've started browsing the RWDE tag to see what the fandom has been up to, and saw some of your WF posts.

*rips off hair* Is it weird that I feel SO uncomfortable with the "redeemed Adam" AUs? I adore Adam 100% but every AU, even from some Adam fans, has that "Adam has to learn not to be racist" condescending vibe and punishes him more harshly than other characters. But, people, he WAS a literal SLAVE?! Doesn't matter if it happened when he was a child or a bit older, HE WAS A SLAVE AND HE WAS BRANDED?! PLEASE CUT HIM SOME SLACK?!

After a couple years of not being around I just feel that Adam fans as a collective still feel a bit traumatized from the discourse, so they try to justify their liking of Adam and overcompensate by punishing him harder, as if to say "See? I'm not that blind and biased as Adam haters say!".

I'm reading a fic currently that it's very good but even faunus are condescending and rude to Adam because of his 'racism' and my soul vanished. Instead of faunus trying to understand and support each other, isn't that even more isolating and alienating? Why are they cannibalizing each other? I know it literally happens in real life but as far as I've read, it's not bringing attention to that fact, but more like presenting it as a good thing. Again, I feel that everyone (fans) as a collective is FORGETTING ADAM WAS A LITERAL SLAVE and treating as if he had just been bullied in school for having horns. He shouldn't have other faunus policing his reactions (so far, he hasn't committed a crime, he just yelled and got very angry because he felt unsafe). It's clearly drawing a line where certain attitudes from trauma are "right" (being a cute crier, submissive, etc) and others are "wrong" (being angry, yelling, etc) because "it makes faunus look bad". Even worse, the faunus that scold Adam are generally on the cuter side of faunus traits. Isn't that just feeding into the ideas already set by humans? That faunus should be cute and behave well and that any faunus that is more aggressive and "dangerous" should be considered a threat?

*very deep sigh* I'm sorry for the long ask but I had to vent for a bit and see if I'm not that crazy yet. It's just that reading those fics makes me think we're gaslighting ourselves somehow, and how that can impact real life if we act like this over a cartoon, and it's really depressing. Thank you if you read all of this.

Long Post Ahead. Contains Spoilers for RWBY and Full Metal Alchemist. Mention of child slavery, genocide, systematic oppression, branding, disfigurement, violence, and racial abuse.

Don't apologize, babe, you're more than valid in your feelings regarding this issue. And yes, I do feel like there is a lot of overcompensation when it comes to how a lot of "Adam redemption" AU, but I believe that it's just because the writers haven't seen another way of writing his story without invalidating his experience yet. And that's understandable! This is a topic that is extremely complicated to explore, and to start one has to understand that there shouldn't be any separation of "good" and "bad" minorities, as well as the willingness to challenge the status quo that has taken characters like Adam on this path towards liberation.

I don't know if you have seen my post comparing the way RWBY and FMA writes a narrative of a minority opposing a racist system through violent means here, but the way that I see FMA succeeding in its efforts was that the narrative never demonize the way Scar feels about his hatred towards the people who wronged him and his people. And it rightfully shouldn't! His people were systematically murdered and experimented on, his brother who wanted to peacefully contribute to helping their people and was willing to learn about alchemy to find a common ground was murdered when he tries to protect Scar, which resulted in his arm being grafted onto Scar to save him, and the oppression of the Ishvalans still persist long after the conflict while the government oppressing them prosper. Scar has all the rights to be pissed off and went on a murderous revenge, and the narrative does. Not. Demonize him for that.

However, it criticize his actions when innocents are involved. And I'm not talking about Ed and Al, I'm taking about Winry. The daughter of the couple who saved Scar's life who he murdered in a fit of rage. The little girl who still extend her kindness to him despite not forgiving Scar for leaving her orphaned, because she broke the cycle of violence and that choice of hers let Scar pick an alternative to his violence. AKA, murdering the dictator who created the genocide of the Ishvalans. Again, the narrative of FMA doesn't make Scar out to be this monster who should be put down for not asking for his rights "nicely", it empathize with him, offer him new perspective, and gave him a chance to do the right thing while still getting his justice.

RWBY doesn't have this nuance to it, and I think that is why a lot of times, the "redeem Adam" AUs goes too hard on excusing his actions and/or overdo the criticism on his actions without attempting to unpack the systematic oppression that creates people like Adam and break it down. There's a balance you have to understand in order to write a convincing "redeem Adam" narrative that doesn't erase his own trauma, and it comes with actually calling out what happened to him as wrong and inhumane.

For Adam to "unlearn his racism", the authors have to look at the events that caused him to have this mentality and admit that it's a flawed system. They have to recognize that there is implicit biases like you mentioned between Faunus and how they're perceived in comparison to each other. The authors have to admit that Adam's hatred for humans and his actions were products of a hateful, racist society that sought out to kill him in every way that matters. You can't half-ass this topic by putting the blame on him; this isn't me saying that he shouldn't be called out for his violence on others, not at all, this is me saying that you need to see the forest, not just the tree. Adam unlearning and breaking the cycle of abuse requires him to be given some kind of hope, some kindness that he isn't a monster for rightfully being hateful towards people who oppressed him and his people. He needs to know that the world still have a place for him to heal and be better. And Adam shouldn't be the one to have to beg to see it by being "nice enough".

Thank you for your ask, anon. Please take a step back if this discourse is too much for you, your well-being is much more important. And I hope that my answer to your ask is somewhat satisfactory.

[starlight-bread-blog]

Zuko and Katara Aren't Toxic to Each Other

I keep hearing this take that's biasically just different variations of this:

Zuko and Katara would bring out the worst in each other. They would be fighting constantly, and their similar tendency to anger will escalate these situations. They'd both grow miserable and bitter.

I don't like this argument for a number of reasons, but I'll adress just one: I feel as though these takes miss how Zuko and Katara have been shown to respond to each other's anger in canon.

For most of the story, they're enemies. Prince of the Fire Nation and the Avatar's friend & teacher. They fight because they're on opposite sides of a war. They do have an arc before they reconcile, there are fights from The Crossroads of Destiny to The Southern Raiders. But in my opinion they don't point at toxicity. They show how Zuko actually reacts to Katara's rage. And it simply doesn't escalate even before they become friends. So let's take a look at a few of said arguments:

The Crossroads of Destiny

At this point they are pure enemies. Katara didn't see Zuko's journy in the Earth Kingdom and they don't know anything about each other.

Zuko and Katara are in the crystal catacombs and Katara starts yelling & preaching at Zuko for all he did do them. At first Zuko just takes it all, just listens to her. But he hit his breaking point.

Zuko (calmly): You don't know what you're talking about.

Katara then rightfully gets angry. And opens up about how the Fire Nation hurt her personally – they took away her mother. Instantly, Zuko isn't angry anymore.

Zuko: I'm sorry.

He immediatly understands and offers comfort. And even, connect with his enemy.

Zuko: That's something we have in common.

Katara: I'm sorry I yelled at you before.

Now the argument is over. They were enemies just a second ago, but Zuko was able to put it aside, realize that Katara was well within her rights to get angry, see her pain and connect with her. So much so, that he tells her about his destiny, about how he feels he's free. And Katara offers to heal his scar to help him too. She too understood his pain, calmed down instantly and helpped.

The Western Air Temple

Zuko has redeemed himself, but not in Katara's eyes. She still suspects him after he betrayed her. She confronts him.

Zuko doesn't get angry if defensive, he knows why she's yelling and lets it happen. He understands her and knows his place.

Then, she threatens him with death. And what did Zuko do?

Nothing. It's not his place. He has gained the emotional maturiny needed to do nothing. To take her rage, knowing it's deserved.

The Southern Raiders

At this point Zuko is completely redeemed, he saved the Gaang just this day and proved he's trust worthy on multiple occasions. But that's still not enough for Katara. She makes a mean spirited comment about him not deserving any credit and leaves. Zuko follows her.

Thus the hostility begins. Zuko asks Katara why can't she trust him? He's proven himself, everyone already trusts him. It's a fair question, and fair frustration. Katara didn't provide substantial reasons to why she still doesn't trusts him yet. She just reminded him she was the first to trust him.

Zuko: What can I do to make it up to you?

He calmed down and tried to help, even when he had every right to be upset. In her next line, it became clear that she was projecting her grief onto him. Zuko realized this, what did he do? What did he do after finding out that Katara's rage at him isn't even about anything he personally did? What did he do after finding out that her rage is unfair and rooted in projection?

Says nothing & goes to her brother to help her solve her trauma. Regardless of it was healthy or not, Zuko was trying to help – not get angry at her.

All of these arguments happen before they even become friends. After they did, they are nothing but wholesome.

This argument that they'd bring out the worst in each other has no basis in canon.

"But it doesn't need to be prominent in canon! They didn't disagree yet, and we don't know what it'd look like".

They did once: Zuko agreed to an Agni Kai with Azula. He invited Katara just so he wouldn't have to do this. Katara finds it unreasonable. But she hears him out and trusts his judgement.

Yes, it does need to be backed up by canon. If it doesn't need to, you can pick any two traits of any two characters and think of how they could be miserable. It doesn't matter that that's not how they are, because it's a hypothetical. It doesn't need to be backed up in canon. Now I'm suggesting that Zukka would be toxic because Sokka's sillyness would clash with Zuko's anger. Sokka would joke around and Zuko would be irrutated & ask him to take it seriously. But it's stupid. I just picked two traits and went wild with it. Same goes for Zutara. They don't act like this, so it's irrelevant.

In conclusion: When Zuko and Katara were "fighting constantly" they were on opposite sides of a war. The first time they talked, it naturally starts as an argument, but turns into a beautiful moment where they both understand each other. When Zuko joins the Gaang, he waits pationetly to Katara's forgiveness, takes all her anger without being at all hostile, does everything he can to prove himself, stays calm even when it's unfair and helps her resolve her trauma. After they reconcile Zuko and Katara don't have a hinch of toxicity. They don't bring out the worst in each other.