#i've been wanting to talk about scorn

[scorndotexe]

☕: Scorn?

oh you wanna hear me talk about scorn? i'll talk about scorn (mild spoiler warning)

scorn is a fucking incredible game. the visuals and art design are gorgeous and exactly my level of fucked up. absolutely astounding visuals. while i love indie games and don't think games need to have good graphics to be good games, it's certainly something to see such a disgusting (complimentary) world in such high quality. nearly everyone agrees on this and the ones who don't just call people freaks for liking it.

everyone blows the "combat issues" out of proportion. sure, i can see how it would be bad if you had to fight all the time, but the thing is you don't have to. it's discouraged. in my opinion, the first step is letting the creatures move out of the way while staying back a little. the second step, if the first one fails, is running away. the last resort is fighting, and often it fails. i briefly got pretty good at the combat before realizing i could just run away from most of the creatures.

but less than smooth combat is a staple of survival horror! while scorn may not be traditional survival horror, it does have some of those elements (just as it has some puzzle elements without being a full on puzzle game).

the puzzles were fine. i'm gonna be honest i looked up walkthroughs for most of them because i'm terrible at puzzles in games despite thinking the genre can be amazing but i didn't feel like it detracted from my experience. however, that doesn't mean that i would have preferred an absence of puzzles. i enjoyed their presence and didn't mind them, though in some cases they could have been better integrated into the world. but that's not a major complaint.

i do think the boss battle is definitely the weakest part of the whole thing. it was a little too long for my taste and the fact that i had to do it, albeit a shorter version, again was annoying. however, it made up for it quickly with some wonderful body horror and narrative. the last few moments of the game were some of the strongest.

speaking of the narrative, holy shit. scorn is so different to every other game you can find, and the way the narrative is presented is no different in that regard. i thoroughly enjoyed it. the wordless storytelling was such a breath of fresh air. too many games these days (and older ones too--thinking of you, alan wake) overexplain every single aspect. it was wonderful to have a game tell you nothing and show you everything you need to be shown. i don't think every game needs to be wordless, and despite my near-constant bitching about cinematic games (and fucking david cage), i don't have a major problem with cinematic games. i do think some just want to be films and don't do enough to be games except drag the story on further than you want them to, but cinematic games are. fine. games with words are also great, you can't just separate "games with words" into its own category. but there's something to be said about how scorn presents itself to you. there's something to be said about how it's on you to observe and interpret and figure things out. a lot of games don't want you to figure them out. they want you to follow the objective markers and watch the next cutscene. it gets tiring, and i don't even play that many games like that nowadays. scorn uses its medium to its advantage.

people have said it's a walking simulator. (bizarrely they've also said the combat was added to stop people calling it a walking simulator. cause that makes sense.) it is not a walking simulator. it has puzzles. it has combat. the story isn't happening at you, you're part of the story.

and personally i love the story. the dynamic between scornguy and the parasite is so compelling to me, and i do think the ending was perfect. the alternative would have felt much cheaper and unearned to me. and i do love tragedy.

lastly, i don't understand how people actually want a sequel or dlc. did you see that ending. did you understand the themes. what do you think they'll add?? a different ending if you pay 15.99? new guns for 9.99? the "loads of cut content" (there isn't that much--the artbook mostly shows concept art and there are two cut areas, only one of which was cut due to time and financial constraints) for 29.99, messing up the pacing entirely? because it's a well paced game, with a few exceptions.

it's not a perfect game, but which game is? and it's not my favorite game of all time or anything, but it's definitely a memorable experience. i wanna recommend it to people but also i know i shouldn't. please play scorn if you like weird fleshy games. pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease

[blughxreader]

platonic yandere batfam thoughts...

how you end up integrating into the family.

I think we often forget how insidious the long-term effects of kidnapping are. Your whole world narrows and you have nothing fulfilling outside of them.

Realistically, how many weeks straight can you do nothing but look at your phone/watch TV? I know we do this every day, but we have school/work/friends/family to provide actual fulfillment and joy. But when you take that away? And have to decide whether you should scroll through monitored social media or talk to your captors?

Especially because the TV doesn't distract from the cold, hard gaze of the surveillance cameras in your room.

Even if you read and craft and cook, it's so difficult to keep your mental health in-tact without having a positive interaction with another human being.

It would start small.

It's morning and Cass smiles at you from across the breakfast table. Not wanting to be rude, you smile tightly back.

Jason wordlessly slides you a book. You take it.

After a few months, you feel slightly more comfortable about taking up space in the manor. Alfred is out of town for the weekend, so you make a sandwich with Tim.

Bruce talks to you about the new scientific breakthrough at Wayne Enterprises and keeps you relatively up-to-date on major world events. You begrudgingly learn more interesting facts than public school has ever taught you.

Soon, you've watched everything good on Netflix. You exhausted your tolerance for social media. You've given yourself headaches reading so much. You've hit an art/writers block like never before because your input has run dry.

With no other source of entertainment, you become more attentive to the Bats.

Of course, you've always watched them out of fear. But as months tick by and you've learned their hearts (and delusions), it's obvious that they would never hurt you. Furthermore, operating within their expectations is easy enough as long as you never challenge them, so the constant danger-sense slowly turns off.

However, because you don't have any outside noise to occupy your mind, drama in the house becomes almost life-and-death to you.

Peace is so fragile, and it's all you have.

Damian and Bruce return from patrol in a rage one night. Damian's furious echoes bouncing upstairs, followed by Bruce's low, indistinguishable scorn.

Fuck, you think. Now your and Bruce's talks are going to be stilted and uncomfortable. Now Damian is going to sulk in your room for hours, unwilling to talk about what happened yet wanting some kind of reassurance.

You can't keep them from fighting, but you want to protect your peace.

When you first arrived in this dreadful manor, you never would have imagined you'd offer them kind words and affection. However it's the only thing you can do now.

There's conflict. The house is tense--your world is tense.

Should you call Dick? He has a day job again, so he can't come over until tomorrow night. It's up to you to ease the tension.

So you do, slowly, with homemade food and Bruce's favorite coffee blend and Damian's favorite hot chocolate. You sit with them individually, shoulder to shoulder (much closer than you would normally sit), and pretend everything is alright. They're surprised but very quick to snap back into a good mood.

The house is suddenly back in order and you did it all by yourself.

And with these vigilantes, conflict is ripe. There's always people coming and going, fighting and playing, and you're unwillingly the most in-tune with the well-being of everyone's relationships.

You protect your peace. You protect the house.

this shit makes me gnaw at my enclosure. if you're fem, it's worse because ✨ stereotypical woman archetype ✨ anyway this has been on my mind because i've been taking care of my baby chicks and cooking dinner most nights, so i'm like 💁‍♀️ i could be a captive house wife click here for my yandere batfam masterlist

[lucidloving]

I learned how to be quiet about pain when I was very young. I learned how to fold in on myself like laundry, to take up less space in the cupboard. I learned how to keep the peace around me by sweeping the dirt under my own rug.

I have been taught that expressing my less favourable emotions is just complaining—something weak people do when they're too incompetent to solve their own problems.

Incompetent. Incompetent. This word is very important to me. Incompetent is the word I am always running from. To run from incompetency means to run from feeling dejected, feeling lost, feeling hurt. To run from incompetency is to run towards goodness. To run towards a me who knows all the answers and shoulders all the burdens and shrugs off all the pain.

Some days I am not very good at this race I am running. Days when the past lurches forward to bite my ankles, or days when the future looks back to scorn my present.

On these days I am weak. The poise slips. It's all too easy to cry a little and vent my fears. I forget that I am supposed to be keeping all of this shut away where no one else can see. I forget that I am not supposed to be dragged down by these feelings in the first place.

Today I feigned nonchalance and I feigned it well. No one noticed that I was hurt by the thing that happened, and sitting alone in all my hurt, I was bitterly gratified. I had fulfilled the proper narrative of an animal who is injured and returns to its cave to lick its wounds only in private.

But there is a desperation for the hidden pain to be noticed. This is the Achilles' Heel of the whole stealth operation; it threatens the little play I have constructed in which I suffer alone and inconvenience no one and am all the stronger for it.

Today I stood upright to talk to my mother and doubled over in pain the moment she left the room. It is satisfying, knowing I did the valiant and honourable thing of keeping the damn pain to myself. It is infuriating, the way my eyes flickered to the door in the dark and private hope that she would come back in and witness me while I was down.

I want to be strong and hide all the hard things away. I want someone to see my efforts to hide all the hard things away and realise I'm strong. I want to bring to life this character I have created who suffers without complaint and is loved when the truth is revealed. Who suffers well.

This is the person who stores up agony to a breaking point, to justify the ultimate snapping of composure. This is the person who wants to be depended on relentlessly and one-sidedly, so that someone someday might notice the unfairness of it all. This is the person who virtuously and righteously take all the hits without a sound, so that when they finally, inevitably break, their pain will come to light all at once and inspire awe and guilt in equal measure.

Who am I, really? Is it terrible to want to play this character? Perhaps some old wound craves acknowledgement and understanding and doesn't know how else to ask for it except by hiding until it festers.

Strength. Competency. Resilience. Dependability. Independence. They have all become synonyms in my black and white dictionary. They have all become straws for the drowning man.

I self-impose silence. I take pleasure in denial and secrecy. I take pride in successfully keeping a problem to myself.

Pride. That's another important word. I think I have too much of it, although it pains me when others point it out. Pride implies I think highly of myself, which is something a good person should never do. Pride is so audaciously self-absorbed, so high-and-mighty, so filthy with ego. There's probably a lot of it in this damn thing I've written.

Pride is the other thing that keeps my mouth shut. The thing that says I should be austere, untouchable, immovable. Pride is the thing that says look here, you don't have a lot going for you so you better keep this mask on right if you want to be good. If you want to be admired.

These terrible things keep me safe. I can't let go of that stupidly noble character or that cowardly pride. I need them to shield me from the reality that I am emotional, not all that put together, and honestly hopeless most of the time.

I need to have something worth liking about myself. I need to have a grit that makes me undeniably good. I need to have a strength that goes unsung, that lies in wait of discovery.

What an exhausting way to live. But it's the only way I know.

[kanmom51]

https://twitter.com/parkjmwins/status/1782358915939774874

Idk whether you will even answer this ask or will block me but this is exactly why JK had similar concept pics like Jimin. Jikookers made it to be romantic while Fandom made it to a joke 'JK always copy Jimin' (ofcourse). I've seen you making multiple posts about Jikook concept pics being match is a proof of them being a couple when in reality Hybe don't even take permission of original artist before using their ideas for another. One hybe label just got into trouble for copying newjeans and according to CEO min heejin it was BANG SHIHYUK who wanted to copy newjeans to create a second version of them through illit. And guess what he made sure illit gets 10x more success than newjeans, a 2 day song was already charting in different charts including hot 100. The same bang shihyuk who ignored every bit of Jimin's success but shamelessly copied his ideas and visions of concept pics for another favorite member. He shamelessly asks staffs to copy original ideas of artists who created them and use them for a cheap version of the said artist, Newjeans and Jimin are just examples.

Was it JK's fault ? Not necessarily but unlike rookie Illit he had power and capability to make his own decisions and use his own visions instead of doing what he was asked to do by the staff (his words) but he didn't and sat comfortably while using another person's hardwork. If you still think those similarities were because they were couple then idk what to say because in that logic Newjeans girls and Illit girls are dating.

Talk about TikTok generation ask.

Linking me to a tweet that has zero actual information and/or proper discussion, just stating a fact that isn't necessarily even a fact. Ignoring the full picture (like y'all do when it comes to Jikook as well, btw).

And I also find it so so funny how you are basically hanging your all on something that a very problematic figure within the Kpop industry is claiming, all to try and deflect from despicable behaviour she's being accused of, including using and revealing private info of Hybe idols obtained in illegal and despicable manors, perhaps including having to do with certain private info leaking of certain BTS members (including the one person that you so vehemently claim to love and stand in defense of).

You think that by sending me this link you are proving something?

You say that you read through my posts. Well, obviously you've missed those many posts I've written explaining how JM and JK being a couple can be deducted not from one action or one behaviour alone, but the combination of many many actions or behaviours. A puzzle built of not 10 or 50 or 100 pieces, but one built of so many many more.

I find it funny how with everything that has been going on with JM and JK you guys are still at this.

We're back to JK copying JM.

Like seriously.

Like even if the whole NJ Illit thing was true there was some kind of a comparison to be made with these two men.

Like JK, who's album concept is 180 degrees different than JM's doesn't have stylists at his beck and call to create a concept that isn't a full on copy of JM's. Right down to the studs and colours and minutiae details of some of the outfits.

Like if he did copy JM, that same scorned poor JM (that's how you guys love to portray him, as a damsel in distress awaiting you to swoop in and save him) CHOSE to fly to NY to be with JK and spend Silver day there with him, travel with him multiple times and spend his entire 18 months in the army with that awful copy cat JK.

Your ask tells me that you have zero understanding in human interactions and relationships. JM saying time and time again, JOKING time and time again, about JK copying him, it's a tease but also something that he LOVES. How he inspires JK, how JK perceives him as his catalyst.

But this here, the photo concepts and the whole of JK's wardrobe while promoting, claiming it's all about copying JM is just bull crap. This was planned. And it was planned by the two of them. It's not a coincidence that JM happens to wear the bottom part of a two piece outfit months before JK wears the top part of the same exact outfit.

And if we are talking about copying, is it the concept he's copying or is he so far gone that he's literally copying down to the smallest of details?

Like seriously. You think that's about copying JM?

Or because it worked for JM so he thinks it will work for him? Literally same hairstyle rocking as JM had in Face? Cause why not use a concept that works? Seriously? JK's all "I should do this cause it worked for JM so it will work for me"?

Was that what he was thinking when he rocked a highlight of JM's hair colour over the years? That the colour works for JM so I should have a strand of that colour in my hair as well, copying his success? Is that the theory you're working with?

Or when JK wore the same jacket as JM on Valentines day, you know, in a clip that JM himself records and uploads, that JK also copying JM?

Babe, this isn't just about the concept pics either. And it's not just about Face and Seven or Golden. Wearing the actual same black leather or leather-like pants just because he couldn't find any other pants? That level of copying? Or perhaps it wasn't about copying and more about mirroring.

About "You are me I am you", which they have been screaming at the top of their lungs for years now!!!

It amazes me how you have zero issue in taking an over decade long complex super close relationship (no matter how you perceive it they are super close) and simplifying it into "JK copied JM's concept because JM's concept worked for him", or to even compare whatever went on with JK and JM and those similarities to a claim made (by a disgruntled and caught red handed employee of Hybe) about one new GG copying concepts and whatever from a GG that's been around for 2 years now. No connection between them. No long term relationships between the groups. One group supposedly copying from another. Yeah, definitely the comparison needed to be made between that and Jikook's behaviours or decision making.

How infantile of you.

Oh and that paragraph of yours at the end. Laughable really.

Like I already said, go compare 2 GGs in two different companies to 2 men that have been close for over 10 years now. And let's also disregard the long history of those two doing the similar and same outfit (during official shoots, performances etc, or during their free time) thing and look at this one single concept.

Probably styled (funny how the styling seems to be similar for years now on many occasions, and just with the two of them)

Not styled.

These are just examples of MANY MORE instances.

Oh, and I suggest you go read this post too. Not mine, but recently written and oh so relevant to the conversation.

I can't help but wonder how different your pov would have been if one of those two young men was a female. Just thought I would throw that in here too.

But I gotta give you an A for persistence. You guys, you never give up, do you? No matter what JK and JM will throw at you, you will find a way to twist it around to fit your narratives. I guess you also think that JM was forced into enlistment with JK, ah? And their trips together and the content that will drop, also forced on him? I guess him saying otherwise isn't enough to convince you guys either, right? I love the way how you guys are so intrenched in your belief of victimhood that you don't even listen to what JM himself tells you. You love him so much that basically call him a liar. Good for yous I guess.

So, to clarify my answer to you, just in case it wasn't as clear as day already...

You do you, cause nothing I tell you, or show you, or you know what? Nothing that even JM himself will tell you or show you will satisfy you. Because you are living in a self built fantasy of what and who JM is and what and who those that surround him are, all to fit that narrative of yours in which he needs you guys as his saviours and knights in shining armour to swoop in and save him from the big bad JK.

One more thing.

JM's Face was a masterpiece.

We all agree on that. JK included.

He adores JM, he's his no. 1 fan and he's been showing us this throughout 2023.

JK is not a person that would callously copy a concept used by a bandmate just because it succeeded for his bandmate and might work for him too.

Let alone from JM.

His person.

Not even if, as you put it, he was told to do so by the powers at be (which yeah, he'd tell to go shove it up their asses if they ever did 'tell' him to do that btw, and they wouldn't do it anyway seeing that they know that would be his exact reaction).

So, no.

That is my answer to you.

Just a whole big fat NOPE.

No to copying. And surprisingly no to blocking you.

Yet.

[thebibliosphere]

Hi! How are you doing? Sorry to bother you, but i dont know many scottish people and idk who to talk to about this book I found on audible. It's called Imogène, by french author Charles Exbrayat. Do you know him /the book? I've started reading it but I had to pause because, while being sold as a "humorous spy story" I find the protagonist, a "very proudly scottish" woman, to be... an offensive caricature? Like she acts like a fool, honestly. This book contains some interesting points about sexism (it was published in 1959), and ridiculous british habits (such as employees forced to give money for princess anna's birthday or being socially scorned). I'm sure the shared dislike / distrust the protagonist and her british colleagues feel are (were?) realistic. But she is so extra, and the story keeps telling how lonely she is, even after working 20 years in london. She has No friends, most acquitances dont talk to her for various motivations, her bosses hates her ... idk I feel this book is actually mocking scottish people? Or scottish women??? I was SO there for a "strong woman protagonist who gives cutting remarks to her boss or peers", but this looks wrong. Idk. I didnt know whom ask for inputs. Maybe i'm reading too much into it. Feel free to ignore this mega rant. Have a good day!

I think cultural and historical context and time of publication-- which was almost 70 years ago --are important factors to take into consideration when we look at fiction through our current expectations.

I can’t speak to the book as I’ve never read it, but speaking as a Scots woman who worked for an English publishing house for a while, being made to feel alienated by my boss and others due to being Scottish was unfortunately still something going on in 2011.

I’d get lots of “Oh but you sound so eloquent” remarks regarding my thinned-out accent (something I did on purpose to avoid being told to “speak properly” which was also something I heard a lot in school if I ever used my native Scots language instead of “Queen’s English.”) and one time my boss referred to me as “their civilized Scot” to an American author, whose Scottish romance book I was supposed to be fixing the dialogue on.

The phrasing was along the lines of, “Don’t worry, you’ll be able to understand her. Joy is our civilized Scot.”

The author laughed and made another derogatory comment about how they just loved Scottish accents even if it was unintelligible a lot of the time. I kept my mouth shut because I didn't want to lose my first career job.

I kept my mouth shut a lot in that job.

In that regard I could very well empathize with the character being lonely and not engaging with anyone, even after 20 years.

The proud Scottish woman can be a bit of a caricature, but that doesn't necessarily mean it is intended as mocking.

Again, cultural/historical context matters.

I wasn’t alive in 1959, but I know there was a lot of Scottish media about the time that leaned into the stubbornness and pride of Scots women both for humor and to make societal commentary on the fact that women were strong and more independent than they’d ever been following two world two and a lot of men weren’t happy about it and wanted them to go back into their boxes. As a result the mouthy, proud Scots woman became a mockable caricature that turned women into shrill, over proud scolds.

Get back in your box or we’ll make fun of you, basically.

So is this book being mocking, or is it employing popular tropes of the time, knowing that audience will understand what it means and that the female protagonist is being subversive despite what others expect from her?

I can’t say. Again, haven’t read it. It could be utter dogshit and making total fun of my culture. But I do think when looking at older media we need to put our thinking caps on and think, “How would the audience of the time, 1959, have viewed and engaged with this?”

Expecting a “strong female protagonist” as we know it from media today isn’t going to work with media that’s almost 70 years old.

Hell, the “strong woman protagonist” wasn’t even something any piece of media could agree on when I was growing up in the 90s.

Times change. Literary tropes and preferences change. It helps to keep that in mind.

[itsasainz]

i need tooth rotting fluff with trent or jude pleaaaaaase 😩😩😩😩😩

Jude Bellingham makes me inexplicably happy, that's all.

"Alright, love, you ready to meet everyone?"

Your smile fades. "Jude, what d'you mean by 'everyone'?"

He shrugs. "Everyone."

You stop in your tracks, grabbing his elbow so he turns to face you. "'Everyone' as in your parents and your brother, or 'everyone' as in your entire family?"

Jude says nothing, just staring at you, confirming what you'd just guessed.

"Jude Victor William Bellingham, I thought you said it was just lunch."

"It is just lunch. With my family."

You raise an eyebrow with him. "Are your grandparents gonna be there? Your aunts? uncles? cousins? family friends? Oh my God I'm gonna scream."

He shifts. "I want you to meet them."

You glare at him. "Jude, I've only met your mum once, right after you'd fucked me into another dimension -- stop grinning, it was an awful first impression-"

"She said she liked you." Jude reminded you, "She was very approving."

"She was probably trying not to embarrass me!" you retort. "Jesus, and I've never even met Jobe! Or your dad, for that matter. I bet she told your dad, and I bet-"

"Calm down, love, they're gonna love you."

You frown at him, pursing your lips as you try to stay pissed at him -- an impossible thing when he's smiling like that, all excited and hopeful. He leans forward and presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. "They're great, I promise, and they already like you."

"How can they already like me, they've never met me." you scorn, and then soften. "Have you been talking to your family about me, Bellingham?"

He averts your gaze, making you giggle. "Listen, my nan insisted I invite you, so you can't back out now."

Making a point of pretending to be pissed at him, you huff. "Well I guess we can't disappoint your nan."

He breaks out into a smile. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"You're not sorry one bit." you say, rolling your eyes as you start up the drive.

"Oh, and my mum did ask if we were using protection, y'know, after-"

"Jude!" you nearly shout, then remember that there's only a wall between you and, apparently, his entire family, so continue in a whisper-shout. "I can't believe this. She probably thinks I'm-"

"Stop, stop." he says, taking your hands in his. "She likes you. I would've broken up with me if she hadn't."

You frown, "What?"

"Yeah. If Mum hadn't of liked you, I'd have had to end things." he shrugs. "Now, can we actually go inside now?"

You groan. "You'll be the death of me."

He kisses you. "Admit it -- you love it."

You roll your eyes, then kiss him back. "Never."

[one-time-i-dreamt]

not a dream, important, grooming tw

I am a fan of the Korean Englishman channel, I've watched it with my mom for years because we both got interested in Korean culture and especially cuisine and they made us want to try out a lot of different dishes that they showcased on their channel and because of them, we searched up different Korean chefs and channels to pick up recipes and learn how to cook, bake and prepare different meals.

With that out of the way and that being said, both of us have seen their videos with the boys from Fulham Boys High School, where they have the kids try out Korean cuisine. So, those kids are regular high schoolers, not celebrities, who have been thrust into fame due to appearing on the channel, who are minors, who have been doxed multiple times, who have been stalked, harassed, etc. because they became so popular.

So do tell me why one of them, who is a high schooler, is being accused of GROOMING his alleged THIRTY THREE YEAR OLD girlfriend, and not the other way around? Why did a YouTuber who takes unconfirmed rumors about Korean celebrities and shares them, who has a lot of followers and influence in Korea, pick up the story about a high schooler who came to visit Korea with his class and who is a non-celebrity, and exposed him to so much hate and vitriol?

Why are Korean reporters picking up the story, without proof or mentioning how wrong their age dynamic is, and repeating it, reporting on it, attacking him, saying he used a woman old enough to be his aunt or even mother for financial gain, when that older woman was messing with a kid? Why is no one calling out and attacking her?

Why did she come out with her whole chest, name and identity, like look at me, I am the woman scorned, woe is me, I am the victim of this high schooler who I was messing with, pity me, attack him please, he turned Tinder on when he went to Korea, and with full confidence decided to share the story of what allegedly transpired with them and people took her side? She's twice his age? He's still in high school?

I am so glad that the people behind the Korean Englishman channel stood behind the boy and are defending him, because so many people are attacking him and spreading falsehoods.

They released the following statement:

I don't know why this has to be said, but the boy in question is a non-celebrity who has been doxed by the media in a foreign country because one adult in her thirties got jealous for thinking he was allegedly talking to other girls (girls his age, mind you) and who was allegedly bribing him with presents to get his attention. Doesn't matter he started talking to her first, why are we victim blaming?

She's the one in the wrong in this situation, and it's horrifying that a YouTuber who has been sued multiple times for allegedly intentionally spreading misinformation for engagement that brings in the $$$ has also caused so much hate to be spread towards the boy, the other boys and the channel who brought to boys to Korea on a summer trip, by picking up the story and giving legitimacy to the real alleged GROOMER in the situation.

[lemon-muncher]

Can you write a soft dom! female reader x Tomika (Giyu) from demon slayer. Can it be angst (like a fight during a mission and Giyu was concerned for reader and it ended up in an argument. After the mission was over they head back to their house and have sex 👀. Maybe include some teasing, commands, and cream pie from the female Dom? 👀

Hell yeah!!!!!! This may be in two separate parts but I'll do my best to fit it into one.

"Damn it Giyu! Just drop it already!" Your voice boomed throughout the tree filled forest you walked through. Your husband sprinted behind you, his usual emotionless expression twisted with unearthly concern. "Y/N! Please just reconsider this. I... I don't want you going on this mission by yourself!" The raven haired man begged you, hoping that somewhere within your mind you'd agree with him. Your face only displays scorn from his pitiful attempt to persuade you. "I'm a grown woman. I know what I'm getting into. " Cold annoyance filled your voice. "Do you even know what your talking about? You can't just walk into there and fight some demon on your own! You'll get killed and I can't let you!"

You stopped dead in your tracks, Giyu stopping shortly behind. "Leave Tomioka. I don't want to see you at the moment." Your cold words hit the man's heart like a brick. His eyes filled with tears, his defensive stance crumbled into that of a terrified boy. He knew your shared job was dangerous. And the thought of you never coming hone to him was paralyzing. What was more paralyzing was snapping out of his thoughts and you being nowhere to be found. You had left him there, standing in the snow. Rather than collaping to his knees like he wanted to, he turned around and made his way back to you shared cabin. As he walked, tears streamed down his face and he prays you come home to him in one piece

It had been six days since you left. Six whole days since you showed your index towards you husband. Six days of pure mental hell Giyu went through before seeing you again. "I'm home..." The usual greeting left his mouth, hoping for some form of response. Sighing, he walked to throughout the wooden house towards your bedroom. He opened the door to find you, asleep in your shared bed. One of Giyu's shirts was clutched in your unconscious hands, the fabric being slightly pressed against your nose. He slowly made his way towards your sleeping form, examining you for any injuries. He kneeled on the floor beside you, watching your sleeping figure as he aided to the minor cuts and and bruises from your mission. Relief filled his body to the point of exhaustion. Eventually, still kneeling besides you, he fell asleep, taking in your warmth.

This I gonna be the first of probably two parts. I want to apologize for such a long wait for this, I've had the worst writer's block plus school shit has had a death grip on me. Tbh, I'm exhausted but I'll do my best to keep posting for you guys

[izvmimi]

cw: spoilers for the end of dr. stone! smut near the end. minors dni. angst at the beginning. reader implied to not be from japan.

Your subtle gift of premonition truly never fails you, and you realize so once more when you're crowded around Senku's laboratory with the remainder of Yuzuriha and Taiju's closest wedding guests and staring up at the monstrous contraption Senku is designating as a time machine.

While the remainder of the party is in curious astonishment, the uneasy feeling that's been sitting heavily in your chest since the morning of the wedding only solidifies further. 

Now you know why you woke up sick to your stomach on what should be a happy day.

Tsukasa stands close to you, pensive as always, thinking before he adds his own commentary, ever so careful with his words. There's a small smile on his face, and you read that as awe and amusement at Senku's relentless pursuit of scientific advancement; something he had once tried to suppress, he's come to appreciate, and while you'd normally be pleased with how far he's come in that respect, in this very moment it feels like a betrayal. 

A time machine would change everything.

Truly everything, and the selfish part of you scorns it. 

Tsukasa finds your hand besides him, still mulling over the details as Senku explains his roadmap to the group, and squeezes it gently without looking. Your corsage of pink flowers brushes against the sleeve of his suit, and you watch a few petals fall. Suddenly you are far too overwhelmed, and would much rather run of the room, but when you see hope warm Tsukasa's brown eyes, you hold in your unease as best you can. 

"Senku really is amazing, isn't he?" you say through a smile that should come easier than it does. Tsukasa hasn't turned to return your smile yet, still watching the machine, eyes wide. 

"He really is."

---

That evening, Tsukasa in his contrarily roundabout but very direct way of speaking, reaffirms his intention to marry you someday. In a small way, you might as well be married - you're inseparable, you live together with Mirai who calls you big sister and means it every single time, and he makes you feel his love every time he holds you in the dark, and presses deep into you, relishing in the sound of his name as it falls off his lips.

Something big if you want it. Something small will also suffice. Something that makes everything even more real, he says to you, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. Pillow talk should make you feel warm, warm as the liquid seeping between your legs. Warm as his arms. Warm as the sensation of his tongue in your mouth, on your skin. 

"Tsukasa," you finally speak up in the dark.

He pulls you closer, and you pause before the words bubble up inside you and force their way out -

"I don't want to lose you."

A lamp flickers on and Tsukasa takes in your tear-stained face with as much alarm allotted for someone so naturally stoic. His palm takes your cheek and rubs it gently, the other arm pulling you in closer to press against him. Your face buries into his chest, and there you let yourself really cry.

He lets you tremble in his embrace for a few more moments, pressing soft kisses to the top of your head. He has no idea what you're talking about, because how can he when you've remained in your head all day?

Once your sniffles have slowed, he pulls back so that he can look at you in the eyes again, making sure you're still within an arm's reach.

"How can you lose me when I've never left?" he asks. 

You swallow, and then decide if you must sound awful, now is the time.

"Without de-petrification, there's no way we would have met."

Tsukasa tenses for a moment, which makes your heart sink, but then he pulls you closer, then on top of him. Sliding upwards so that his back is propped up by the headboard, he strokes your forehead. He mulls the thought over for a moment, and you look up into his beautiful face, your heart pounding in anticipation. 

"I'd find you," he says, confidently, and you're stunned practically silent. Simple as that.

You blink for a moment, surprised by his answer, then find your face growing hot.

"What do you mean, 'you'd find me'? We lived on the opposite sides of the world? You would have been famous and I just... some girl with some normal job, and-"

He kisses you again to interrupt you, then presses his forehead to yours.

"Trust me. I'd find you."

You can feel your breath halt and he smiles.

"You don't believe me, do you?" he says. His gaze is soft, and he grins wider, confident, flipping you over so that he's over top of you. You can feel your face growing hot again but for a different reason now. Sucking in a breath, you wrinkle your nose.

"Were you gonna pluck me from my grad school classroom?" you ask him.

"If I must," he says. He kisses your neck, then parts your legs to wrap them around his waist. Your eyelashes flutter.

"Unrealistic," you reply. 

"I'd find you," he says again. His fingers intertwine with yours as he rubs against your center. You sigh, but he's taken all of the worry out of you and replaced it with playful jest. He's so good at this, the way he validates your fears, but doesn't allow you to feel afraid because he lacks that fear, and is always strong enough, good enough, brave enough to protect you. Even from yourself.

"Would you send me special signals through MMA's greatest knockouts montages on Youtube?"

This time he actually laughs, falling back on his heels.

"Yes," he answers. "Whatever it takes."

He's hard again, and the heavy thickness slaps on your pubic bone, and you tense, your heartbeat quickening, your mouth drying in want. He runs his hand through his hair to free the strands sticking to his face before he descends on you again, the other hand gripping the base of his cock to line up with your entrance.

He blows air from his nose, then pulls one of your legs over his shoulder. His teeth flash at you - he is your perfect, sweet, confident love of your life, and all of your worries cease.

"You should be less worried about universes where we don't meet and more concerned about the fact that you can't escape me in any timeline."

He fills you up, your back arching as his hands grip around your waist.

"You're always mine to love."

[cowgurrrl]

Too Close

Pairing: rockstar!joel x actress!reader

Author’s note: this isn’t exactly where I wanted it to be but I still like it (ps fic named after this song)

Summary: “Why, get you gone! Who is’t that hinders you?” “A foolish heart, that I leave here behind.” A Midsummer Night’s Dream Act III, Scene II, Lines 318-319 [2.5k]

Warnings: arguing, language, tumultuous co-parent relationships, the l word, allusions to substance abuse, vague depictions of a panic attack, brief description of disassociation, poor sleeping habits, fictional situations of survivor’s guilt/traumatic events, this one’s a doozy y’all

Joel ushers you into his bedroom and quickly closes the door behind him like you two are sneaking around and don't want to get caught. You bite your thumbnail as you think, replaying the brief moment you saw Angela over and over again. He stands there, hands on his hips, and takes a deep breath. You don't know where to start. Two hours ago? Last week? Twenty years ago? Time seems to collapse between the two of you.

"If you want to be mad at someone, be mad at me. Not Sarah." He says as if getting pissed at Sarah was even on your radar. 

"I'm not gonna get mad at her. She's a kid," you scoff. The fact that he even had to specify that makes your skin crawl. At what point during your relationship have you made it seem like you would ever be angry with her? "How long have you known?" You ask the million-dollar question, and he sighs, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Sarah reached out to her a couple of months ago, and she responded. I didn't think she'd actually show up."

"How long is a couple of months?" 

"She emailed her before we left for New York." He says, and you have to sit down on the ottoman at the front of his bed to catch your breath. You bury your head in your hands and fight the tears stinging behind your eyes. Your knee bounces with unspent anger and anxiety, and your heart hammers in your chest. 

"So, the entire time I was telling you everything about my past and showing you where I lived and trusting you for the first time, you were in contact with your ex-wife?" You ask, but he doesn't say anything. You look up to stare at him, and he shakes his head.

"I didn't think she'd actually come into town." 

"That doesn't matter, Joel! You should've told me!"

"I didn't know if we were even anythin' before we went to New York, so it didn't feel important." He says like it's your fault, and you raise your eyebrows at him. You walk over to him, fire in your veins and venom choking you as all your frustration spills from you.

"Oh, is that why you fucked me? Because you didn't know and wanted to try something? Wanted to see if I was worth keeping around?" You ask. "Because you seemed to have a pretty good idea of what we were when you stuck your tongue down my throat, so please tell me what revelation you had that made you think you didn't have to tell me you were talking to the woman who left you with a baby."

"I didn't want to ruin our time together."

"Well, it's pretty fucking ruined now, isn't it?" 

"You don't get it!" He raises his voice, and you throw up your hands in defeat as he turns his back to you. You groan and rub your face, looking up at the ceiling in hopes that some sentient being will smite you right then and there.

"Then, explain it to me, Joel." You say, and he shakes his head as he faces you. You think of the young Joel you saw in the picture you saw two weeks ago. The Joel who was a single dad working construction to afford formula for his daughter. The Joel who was in his early twenties and divorced and scorned. The Joel who wrote one of your favorite songs and released it alone, not knowing what his future would hold. That Joel is hard to find when you look at him now.

"She's sober. She has a steady job in Texas. She's finally gettin' back on her feet. I've been tryin' for eighteen years to get her to even pick up the fuckin' phone, and now here she is, and she's better. This could be a chance." 

"A chance for what?"

"For us to be a family or, at least, for Sarah to have a relationship with her." He says, and you nod, biting the inside of your cheek. You’re not family. You’re an outsider, someone to hang around until Mom gets to come back and take what’s hers. You’re not permanent in the grand scheme of his family.

"Do you still love her?" 

"What?"

"Do you still love her?" You repeat slowly. He gives you a look before running his thumb over an invisible ring on his left finger. It might've been a nervous habit, but you saw it. You saw the way he flinched when he felt skin instead of metal.

"I…" he starts. "I will always have love for her. I-"

"Oh, my God." You can't even stand to hear the rest of his sentence. You push your hair out of your face and start pacing.

"She's Sarah's mom!" He yells.

"And she left! She left and didn't give a shit about either of you, Joel! And now that you're famous and have money, she suddenly checks her inbox?!"

"You don't know what you're talkin' about." 

"Apparently, I don't know a lot," you say. He softens momentarily as the words hang in the air, and you shrug. You furiously wipe at your eyes as unauthorized tears roll down your cheeks. "I trusted you. I let you into my life. I told my fucking parents about you. Do you know how hard that was for me? Do you know how many years I spent protecting myself from this exact situation? But I trusted you not to do that. I," your voice catches in your throat, and Joel rushes over to put his hands on your arms. You know he's trying to rub his hands up and down your skin to soothe you, but you push him away, stumbling back from his touch. "I don't know where to go from here. I don’t know if there’s even anywhere for us to go after this.”

"We can work through this. We just needa talk bout it and figure somethings out, but we can move forward."

"No, we can't." You cry, and he gives you a confused look.

"Honey, look at me. Yes, we can."

"The contract is ending early. Apparently, your team is fucking ecstatic with how things are going and decided you don't need me anymore. That's what Melanie came to tell me before I fired her," you laugh, wiping your nose on your sleeve and letting out a sharp exhale. "I should've fired her a long time ago, but I did it today because she said I shouldn't be with you. It was my last straw, and I thought that not having any auditions or work lined up would be okay because this morning, I believed in us so hard that I was willing to endure that. I let myself make the stupid choice to be happy for once because I-" You cut yourself off. You can't even bear to think the words, let alone say them out loud. Joel stares at you with big watery eyes, but you can't find it in yourself to feel sorry enough for him to comfort him.

"I have to go. I can't be here right now."

"Please, just wait," he begs, and you shake your head, pulling your jacket closer to your body. He might've tried to say more, but you don't wait to hear it. You fly down the stairs, hiding your tears from the girls, and leave the house. You don't slam the door or throw one last comment Joel's way. You're sane enough to know not to put children in the crossfire of anything, let alone relationship problems.

Once you're at the curb outside of Joel's house, you let out a loud sob. Your hands shake as you pull your phone out of your pocket and hit the first number on speed dial. Ryan picks up on the third ring. The second he says your name, more tears fall down your face, and you feel like you can't breathe.

"What's going on?" He asks urgently, and you hiccup.

"Can you come get me, please? I don't... I can't go home. I don't want, fuck," you press your palm to your scorching forehead and try to force yourself to think. "I really need you."

"Stay where you are. I'm getting in the car now. Where are you?"

Ryan and Carolina hold your hands, rub your back, and offer you tissues as you tell them everything. The contract, the fake dates, the phone calls from Texas, New York, the girls, Melanie, Angela. Everything. They don't yell at you for lying about your relationship or blame you for what went down with Melanie. They just offer soft assurances that you're okay, and they love you. You cry through most of it, and they take turns holding you while you three sit at the dining room table.

You don't remember the last time you've cried this hard about anything. It feels like there's a gashing hole in your soul, and you're desperately trying to keep everything together so you don't lose it. And you want to blame it all on Joel because that would be easy—convenient. But you think that maybe this hole in you has always been there, and you've slowly been losing pieces of yourself without even realizing it. 

You think Melanie took a lot of it, pawning your shiniest pieces for brand new Range Rovers and Birkin’s. You think you left a bit here and there every time a director pushed you too hard, and you sat in your trailer for hours, staring at the wall and wondering how you could feel so disconnected from your own body. And you think that more was taken in every unwanted picture taken of you, in every headline talking about your appearance or lack of a partner, in every interview question that had nothing to do with your work as a trained actor. You want to go around Los Angeles with invoices, demanding that people give you back to yourself because how dare they take those pieces. You want to gather them in a box and try to fit them together again like a puzzle with bent and missing connections. You want your fucking life back, but it’s not yours anymore. It’s theirs. Maybe it always was.

"I'm so stupid," you whisper as you stare at your hands. Carolina wraps her arms around your shoulders and presses her cheek to yours, the smell of her floral perfume and Elizabeth's baby lotion surrounding you.

"You're not stupid. Not by a long shot, okay?" 

"God, why does this hurt so much? I feel like I'm dying."

"Because you love him," she says, like she didn't just destroy your world. You clench your jaw and try to stop yourself from crying more, but her soothing presence around you is enough for you to break. "You love him, and he loves you, and it's not enough to change anything."

"That's dismal." You try to laugh as you wipe at your eyes, and she nods. Ryan reaches across the table for your hand and holds it like it's fragile china.

"It's awful, and I wish I could take this pain from you. But, I swear to you, one day, you won't hurt like this. One day, you're gonna sing and dance again. You're gonna smile and laugh and make jokes again. You're gonna make beautiful art and fall in love with the way leaves fall, and you're gonna be okay." 

"How do you know?" You ask.

"Because I know you." 

Because I know you. Those four words scare you and make you grapple with the terrifying reality that they've seen the rotted parts inside you and still chose to love you. They remind you of how much you love them. They remind you of how much you love Joel, and it doesn't even matter because it will always end this way. It will always end this way, but it matters that the love was there. You wonder if it always will be. You wonder if one day you'll hear his song on the radio and be able to sing along. You wonder if he'll be able to see your movies. You wonder if supporting each other from afar is enough and decide that it has to be. There is no other choice. It will always end this way.

Carolina and Ryan let you sleep in the guest bedroom down the hall from them. The one that's always ready for you when you need it. The one with a pile of borrowed clothes with your name on it and the one with the soft sheets and extra quilts. You lay in the dark, your head throbbing with the weight of your tears, and you should be sleeping, but you're not. You're running through every single moment with Joel like you can will things to change. He fucked up. You both did. There are a million things you would change or take back, but Jesus Christ, were you happy. 

You shake the tears out of your eyes and reach for your phone, ready to mindlessly scroll through social media until you feel the tiniest bit better. However, your email inbox flashes with an unopened message before you can get to Instagram. You furrow your brows and open the app to see an email from Melanie. You open it out of habit and almost immediately sit up in bed.

From: Melanie Lundquist

Subject Line: Opportunity

Pike's assistant reached out since I'm your last manager on record. The role's written specifically for you, so it's yours, without a doubt. Don't say I never did anything for you.

-Mel

Attachment: THE_BEGINNING_OF_THE_END_R.PIKE

Richard Pike wrote you a role. An Oscar-winning producer wrote you a role. You immediately open the document and begin reading. You really should be asleep, especially after the day you've had with reshoots, but you can't stop devouring the words. It's about a young woman dealing with the survivor's guilt of living through a terrorist attack, mental health, and substance abuse issues. She's angry, sad, and hard to love at times, but she's also so fucking funny and caring. She's dynamic and heartbreaking and raw. She's everything you've ever wanted in a role. 

You stay up reading and crying over her story, feeling her pain so deep in your heart that it hurts. When you get to the end of the script, the sun is slowly rising, and you're almost certain that you'll die of dehydration, but you don't care. You find Pike's assistant's email address and tell her you need this role. Surprisingly, she writes back not even ten minutes later despite it being almost six in the morning.

Happy to hear it. Mr. Pike will produce the movie, but Mrs. Liliah Hanover will be directing and working with you directly. I will pass the message along to her team. Shooting begins at the beginning of next month in Ireland. The expected film time is six-twelve months, and housing will be provided upon arrival. Are you still interested?

For some reason, you type back a single, enthusiastic "yes!" before locking your phone and falling asleep for fifteen hours.

[atlabeth]

everything happens for a reason part 20 - zuko x fem!reader

Guess it's true, I'm never getting over you

part 19 | masterlist | part 21

a/n: holy shit guys. we're finally here. the title chapter, the part that officially puts us over the 100k mark, the turning point, the end of the constant mf angst that i've put you all through. that's right. it's finally time for yn and zuko's life changing field trip. ive had this idea down for so long and i can't believe we're actually here lol. buckle up because she's a very long and very emotional one. i hope you enjoy.

wc: 14.3k I KNOW IM SORRY

warning(s): a lot of angst, fighting, violence (including minor character death), a whole lot of emotions, but the fluffy reconciliation you've all been waiting for<3

chapter title comes from everything happens for a reason (!!!!!!) by madison beer

Y/N felt betrayed. 

It wasn’t a secret how she felt about Zuko. She avoided him at every possible moment, making herself scarce whenever he walked into a room or completely ignoring him in group conversation—it was the closest she could get to the civility required now that he was Aang’s firebending teacher, and even that was difficult. 

Not because she didn’t want anything to do with Zuko—no, it was becoming the opposite, and it scared her more than anything. 

She found herself thinking of him more often than not. And not of the North, or their meetings along their journey, not the catacombs—she found herself recalling the more pleasant memories. 

The time they spent together whenever they could when she was still a servant and he was still a prince. The sunset they shared together the night before her life was turned upside down. Those afternoons when she would visit him in the tea shop, talking like they used to, smiling like they used to. 

Remembering him for who he was rather than who he had become was dangerous. It was how she got her heart broken in the first place, how she went through some of the worst months of her life. 

He couldn’t hurt her again if she didn’t give him the chance to. So she wouldn’t. 

But it was getting harder and harder to avoid him, because one by one, her friends forgave him. 

First, she’d heard, was Toph. She didn’t have any kind of grudge against him, and she was able to make up for him burning her feet tenfold now that he was part of the team. 

Next was Aang. He was already far too forgiving, the amount of grace inside of him more than Y/N could even hope to muster. They proved themselves in front of the last dragons together, and apparently that was enough for Aang to trust him. 

It took Sokka a bit longer, but after what they pulled off at the Boiling Rock together, he didn’t seem to have a hard time getting along with Zuko. The fact that he helped save Y/N and Suki probably didn’t hurt his chances either. 

Zuko had burned down Suki’s village, but Y/N still remembered what she told him in the courtyard—”if you can get me out of here, you’re forgiven. Kyoshi’s fans, I’ll be your best friend.” They weren’t exactly that close, but they worked together, and that was enough. 

Katara, it seemed, was the only one who still shared Y/N’s scorned feelings. They held onto each other like a lifeline, feeding off of the other in their hatred. It might not have been the healthiest option, but they refused to forgive Zuko. They stewed in their hurt, and it felt good. It felt good to have a target for their bitterness rather than the abstract ideal of betrayal, and Zuko worked just fine. 

After they had fought against Azula, the night they settled on a random Fire Nation island, the two of them sat together on the outskirts of camp. They were meant to be keeping watch together, but instead they made quiet conversation. 

“So,” Katara said, “today was… something.” 

“That’s one way to say it,” Y/N said wryly. “Since joining you guys, I’ve had enough action for a lifetime. I can’t wait for all this to be over.” 

Katara smiled, but it was wistful. “Neither can I. This has all gone on for so long—all I want is peace.” 

A memory flashed through her mind—frantic screams, desperate pleading, flames devouring centuries of life—and Y/N swallowed thickly as she tried to push it away. The closer the day came, the more the memories would appear. It happened every year, but this time it was worse. 

“Me too,” she murmured. “More than anything.” 

Katara looked at her for a moment, her gaze softening before she finally spoke. “Are you okay? I… I know today wasn’t easy.” 

Y/N managed a thin smile, but it wasn’t convincing. “You don’t have to worry about me.” 

“You know I can’t do that,” Katara said dryly. “We look out for each other—we always have, even from the first day we met. But it’s like you’re trying to make it as hard as possible for me to care about you.” 

“One of my many skills,” she said sarcastically, but Katara didn’t laugh. Y/N sighed in response, long and deep, and allowed her gaze to drift into the murky distance. At nighttime, the water and the sky became one. It was calming. “I just…” she shook her head, “I don’t know what to do.” 

“With Zuko,” she guessed. 

“With everything,” Y/N said, but then she sighed again. “...Zuko included.” 

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Katara said quietly. “Not after everything he’s put you through.” 

“I keep telling myself that,” she murmured. “But there’s something inside of me that I can’t get rid of.” She looked at Katara, the beginnings of tears glimmering in her eyes. “There— there’s this hope that I can’t get rid of, that things could be the way they used to be again. And— and last time I felt that way was in Ba Sing Se, and I know where that got me, so—” 

Katara stayed silent, only taking her hand to acknowledge her while allowing her to continue. It was a lifeline to her, one sorely needed, and she let out a shaky breath. 

“So why do I still feel that way?” she asked, almost desperately. “How have they all forgiven him so easily? They know what he did— spirits, Aang died because of him— but they’re all able to sit around and joke with him like nothing happened.” 

“They didn’t trust him the way we did,” Katara said with a quiet anger. “They didn’t trust him the way we did, so it didn’t hurt them the way it hurt us.” 

“I don’t want to forgive him,” Y/N said weakly. “But the thought of losing him hurts so much. Why does it hurt so much?”

“I don’t know,” Katara murmured. “I… I don’t know.”

Y/N flinched as a tear rolled down her cheek and fell to the ground below, and she instinctively wiped it away. She couldn’t show weakness.

She grimaced at the thought. How long would that wretched place stay with her?

“I’ll give you some time.” Katara’s expression was pained as she squeezed her hand. She didn’t want to leave her alone, but Y/N was thankful for it. Right now she just needed to feel miserable by herself, without bringing Katara down with her. 

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Katara nodded as she stood up. “You can sleep in my tent tonight. Or if you decide you want to talk, come bother me. I promise it’ll be okay.”

Y/N nodded, the action a bit numb, and she could feel Katara’s eyes on her as she lingered. But eventually she mustered the strength to leave, and Y/N was left with her thoughts.

She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat as she stared up at the sky. She tried to find the constellation her father taught her when she was a mere child—the tiger seal. 

It was a jumble of stars that didn’t even remotely resemble the animal, but she remembered late nights spent stargazing on the ground outside their house, giggling endlessly as her father would point out various other constellations that he made up on his own. It would last until her mother would come out and tell them it was far past your bedtime, young lady, but she would never hide her smile as they ambled back inside.

The memory made a smile of her own emerge, but she soon realized she was fully in tears. They slid down her cheeks, falling onto the dirt and stones jutting out of the cliffside. 

She couldn’t stop thinking of Zuko. She couldn’t stop thinking of her father. She felt so deeply broken in a way that she had no idea how to fix, in a way that was threatening to consume her. 

She had her life back. Everything should have been back to normal. 

But instead, she felt more lost than ever.

-

Y/N ended up taking Katara’s offer of sleeping in her tent, and she was glad she did. The familiarity of it all made her heart ache, but she was thankful for it. Thankful that she had friends like these who wouldn’t let her push them away, no matter how much her newly wired instincts told her it was the right thing to do. 

She was visited by her childhood in her dreams yet again. She saw her father and her mother, walking hand in hand with smiles on their faces as they trailed behind a young Y/N skipping through the village paths. 

She saw her child self running, screaming and laughing in equal parts as she was chased by the boy marked as the tagger, only to stagger backwards after running into one of the adults. But she was greeted by the smiling face of her father. The boy tapped her on the shoulder and ran off laughing, but her father knelt down to her level and looked at her completely seriously. 

“I guess that means we’re the taggers now, huh?” And with that, the two of them ran around the village tagging everyone they could with the seriously unfair advantage. 

She saw the moment after she’d learned how to waterbend, sprinting through the whole village to find her father, drag him to the lake, and show him her new skill. Gan held all the stars in his eyes as he watched her bend, and even though it was the simplest thing she could’ve done he praised her to no end. 

The absence of scars, the smoothness of her skin, a bright smile that shone through her—she was unmarked by the world then. Hopeful, content, naive. 

When she woke up with still-wet tear tracks on her cheeks, it wasn't a surprise. She woke up like this more often than not. 

One week. Seven days. And then she would go to face something she wasn’t sure she was ready for.

But for now, there was something else to focus on. She could hear loud voices outside of the tent—all familiar, thankfully—but she knew that meant she had overslept. 

Y/N fixed her hair and her clothes, rubbing furiously at her face to get rid of any signs of her previous emotions, and emerged from the tent to see her friends all standing around Appa. 

“—about getting closure and justice,” she heard Zuko say, and her brows instinctively creased. 

“What’s going on?” Y/N asked, crossing her arms as she stopped between Sokka and Zuko. “What are you all talking about?” 

Zuko’s eyes widened slightly as he looked at her. “Uh— good morning.” 

“Good morning,” she said stiffly before repeating herself. “What’s going on?” 

“Zuko knows where to find the man who killed our mother,” Sokka said. He was oddly quiet. 

“And Katara wants to find him,” Aang said, his expression uneasy. 

“Is there a problem with that?” Katara asked defensively. 

“Not if Zuko’s right and you just want closure,” he said. “But I don’t think that’s what this is about. I think it’s about getting revenge.” 

“Maybe it is!” Katara exclaimed, gesturing with one hand. “Maybe it is about revenge, Aang. But don’t you think I deserve it?” 

“You don’t know what it will do to you,” Aang said. “I know how you feel right now, trust me—like violence is the only way to solve your problem. I felt that way after I discovered what happened to my people. But it’s not the only way.” 

“I can’t let him go now that I know I can get to him!” she yelled, her voice rising with her anger. “Maybe it’s what I need—maybe it’s what he deserves.” 

Aang’s eyes widened slightly. “Katara, you sound like Jet.”

“That’s not the same,” she snapped. “Jet hurt the innocent. This man— he’s not innocent. He’s a monster.” 

“Katara, she was my mother too, but I think Aang might be right,” Sokka said. 

She set her jaw. “Then you didn’t love her the way I did.” 

Sokka took a step back as his eyes widened. “Katara…”  

“The monks used to say that revenge is like a two-headed rat viper.” Aang spoke up quickly, trying to fill the air after what she’d said. “While you watch your enemy go down, you’re being poisoned yourself.” 

“That’s cute, but this isn’t Air Temple preschool,” Zuko said. “It’s the real world.” 

“And you think he hasn’t experienced the real world?” Y/N snapped. “I think he knows a little bit about grief after what’s happened to him.” 

Zuko looked at her with a surprisingly level expression, contrasting her narrowed eyes and upturned lip. “Monk pacifism isn’t going to help here.” 

Y/N opened her mouth to retort back but Aang stopped her. “It’s okay. I forgive you, Zuko.” He looked at Katara. “That’s what you need to do. Forgiveness.” 

Katara laughed in disbelief. “You want me to forgive the man who murdered my mother?” 

“Of course not!” Aang said. “You need to face him—I understand that. But when you face him, you can’t kill him. You have to let the anger flow through you, and then out of you. Accept your emotions, then let them go.” 

“Why should he get to live when our mother is gone?” Katara shouted. “I don’t want to forgive him, I want revenge!” 

“Killing him won’t bring our mother back,” Sokka murmured. “You’ll just have someone else’s blood on your hands.” 

“Good,” she said coldly. “An eye for an eye.” 

“Makes the whole world go blind,” Aang finished. “One of the monks said that back in the temple—violence might feel right, but it just hurts everyone more. Forgiveness is the right choice.” 

“Forgiveness is the same as doing nothing,” Zuko said. 

“No, it’s not,” he said. “It’s easy to do nothing—forgiveness is hard.” 

“It’s not just hard,” Katara snarled, “it’s impossible.” 

Aang looked over at Y/N, who had been silent since her outburst at Zuko. “Y/N, please. You know revenge won’t help her.” 

Y/N looked between the two of them, the steely determination brewing in Katara’s eyes at odds with a desperate softness in Aang’s. Something twisted in her chest, and she had to force herself to look away as she spoke. 

“...Do what you have to,” she said quietly. “Whatever that ends up being.” 

Hurt flickered across Aang’s expression before he looked away, and Katara nodded thankfully at her before she started walking away. Zuko cast a long look at Y/N before he followed her. 

“I’ll see you guys later,” Y/N muttered as she hurried off in the opposite direction, swallowing her doubts as her hands bunched into fists and loosened over and over, desperately needing something to do with them. 

Katara was going after her mother’s killer, and Zuko was helping her with it. Katara, her last line of defense in her feelings against him, was going on her own trip with him. Y/N knew it was for the best—it was something she needed to do and Zuko had the Fire Nation knowledge that no one else in their group possessed, so he was the obvious choice—but a small part of her still couldn’t help but despise it.

He was getting too close, far too close, and she wasn’t going to let that affect her. 

No matter what.

-

Y/N had found a small solace by the cliffside, sitting on the edge as her legs hung off. She could fall just as easily as anything, but maybe it was the danger that calmed her, the fact that she was in control of what would happen. She heard the footsteps before anything though, and her body tensed up instinctively as she whirled around. 

“It’s just me,” Toph said, her blank gaze aimed at the ground. “You’re jumpier than usual.” 

“How can you tell?” 

“I can hear every ant on this cliffside through their movements,” she said. “Your heart rate spiked so much that even a baby could tell you’re off. You’ve been off, ever since you came back.”

She smiled wryly. “I’m still getting used to everything again. It’s not an easy transition.” 

“But you’re here,” Toph said, and she sat down next to her. “You’ve been through everything, and you’re still here. That means you’re tougher than everything the Fire Nation has tried to throw at you.” 

“How can you say that so easily?” Y/N asked. “I’ve flipped out on everyone at least twice for no reason. I constantly have nightmares about what’s happened. I— I can’t even bend because Zuko still has this stupid hold on me. I don’t feel tough. I feel weaker than ever.” 

“You’re still here,” Toph repeated, emphasizing each word. “So many other people would have given up by now if they were in your position. But you didn’t—you fought, and you continued to fight until you won, no matter how long it took you. That’s what makes you tough—not all the stuff you’ve been through, but the fact that you’re still standing at the end of it.” 

“When did you become so wise?” she joked weakly, her gaze trailing off into the horizon. The sun was beginning to set, beautiful reds and oranges blending with deep purple. It reminded her of the night everything changed. 

“Someone had to keep these dunderheads together while you were busy in prison.” Y/N chuckled a bit, but she could see Toph’s expression sober in her peripherals. “...I’ve just been worried about you.”

“Really?”

Toph punched her on the arm without looking. “Does that make you believe me?” 

Y/N managed a small smile as she rubbed the spot. “Yeah.” 

“Good. Because I don’t know how much sappy stuff I can take.” 

Her smile widened as she wrapped an arm around Toph and pulled her closer. “So you do love me.” 

“Let go of me!” she protested. “This is the worst kind of sappy stuff!”

But Toph made no move to get away from her, and Y/N laughed. “Just admit it. You missed me.” 

“Of course I missed you,” she huffed. “Without you, I actually had to do all the work with Katara instead of knocking Twinkle Toes around with earthbending or practicing on my own. It was horrible.” 

“I missed you too, Toph,” Y/N said with a smile. “I didn’t realize how much I appreciated your tough love until I didn’t have it.”

“I have plenty saved up for you, Snowflake,” Toph grinned, “so don’t worry.” But her expression sobered, and she paused. 

“...I’m here for you,” she said after a moment. “If you need anything, or just someone to listen to. I’m good at listening to people complain.” 

“Thank you,” she said, her smile softening. “That means more than you know.” 

And as the two of them sat there in silence, nothing being said verbally but more in the air between them than ever, she felt content once again. She didn’t realize how much she just needed to talk to somebody. First her conversation with Katara and now with Toph—her friends really were the secret to making her feel better. 

…Things would be okay again, Y/N thought to herself. No matter how long it took, her friends would be there for her. 

Things would be okay again. 

She would be okay again. 

-

“They’ve been gone for too long,” Sokka grumbled. 

“It’s been two days,” Aang said. “Zuko said the man they were after was retired—it can’t be easy to find a retired Fire Nation soldier, no matter how knowledgeable you are about the navy.” 

“That’s too long,” Sokka insisted as he crossed his arms. While Y/N, Aang, Suki, Toph sat together in a loose arc, Sokka was up and pacing. He had been for the past twenty minutes.

“Can you sit down, Sokka?” Y/N asked. “You’re stressing me out.” 

“You should be stressed out!” he exclaimed, flinging his arms up. “The boy prince of betrayal went off with my impressionable sister on a murder field trip. There is no reason to not be stressed out!” 

“You need to give Sugar Queen more credit,” Toph said. “If Zuko tries anything, he’s the one that should be worried. Not the other way around.” 

“Toph’s right,” Aang said, but then he frowned. “And I thought you trusted Zuko.” 

“Not when he’s alone with my sister on a murder field trip!” Sokka heaved a long sigh as he stopped, staring out into the distance. Even though their island was one of a big scattered chain, they were still extremely isolated. It was unnerving sometimes, especially at night. “She feels everything so strongly, and… and she’s always felt guilty about what happened to Mom. I know she thinks this is her chance to make it up to her, to do what she wished she could have done on that day. But I also know that if she goes through with it, she’ll regret it for the rest of her life.” 

“She’ll make the right choice,” Y/N murmured. “I know she will.” 

Aang suddenly perked up, and he turned around. When he did, his eyes widened. “They’re back.” 

They all turned around to see Appa touching down at camp, but only one person dismounted. 

“Where’s Katara?” Y/N instantly asked, her eyes narrowing as she darted up. 

“She’s fine,” Zuko said, but when he glanced at Aang she could see his nerves. “She… she’s back at the dock. At the soldier’s village.” 

“Did she…?” Aang didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t have to. 

“No. He’s terrified out of his mind, but he’s alive.” A weight was visibly lifted off of Sokka’s shoulders with the single word, and Aang nodded. 

“That’s… that’s good.” 

“She said she needed some time to herself,” Zuko murmured. “I figured it was only right to bring you back with me.” 

“I’m coming too,” Sokka said.

“Me too,” Y/N spoke up. She could feel Zuko’s gaze on her, but she didn’t meet it. 

“I’ll stay back,” Toph said. “Someone has to hold this place down.” 

“I will too,” Suki said, and she gave Sokka a light kiss on the cheek. “I hope she’s okay.” 

“She will be,” Sokka said softly. “Eventually.” 

Zuko nodded and started walking back towards Appa. “Let’s get back, then. It’s a bit of a ride.” 

-

Soon enough, they were all in the village, and Aang jumped off Appa as soon as he’d guided him close enough. 

“Katara!” he exclaimed as he ran towards her, sitting on the edge of the dock. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m doing fine,” she murmured. Her voice was placid as the water she sat above, but it was strained. 

“Zuko told me what you did,” Aang said softly. “Or… what you didn’t do, I guess. I’m proud of you.” 

“I wanted to do it,” she said stiffly. “I wanted to take out all my anger on him, and I almost did. But… but I just couldn’t. I don’t know if it’s because I’m too weak to do it or strong enough not to.” 

“You did the right thing,” Y/N said. “Facing that man makes you stronger than he could ever hope to be.” 

“Forgiveness is the first step you have to take towards healing,” Aang said. 

Katara stood up, and her gaze was a mixture of sadness and acceptance. But it was obvious the ordeal was still weighing on her. “I didn’t forgive him. I’ll never forgive him. But…” she looked past them and over at Zuko, the smallest of smiles pulling at her lips. “...I am ready to forgive you.” 

She walked up to Zuko and hugged him, and after a moment of hesitation Zuko smiled and wrapped his arms around her. Y/N clenched her jaw and started walking back over to Appa. 

She was happy Katara got closure, of course she was. But in the process, she had forgiven Zuko. She was her confidante, the one person who understood how deep her anger towards him went. She had been by Y/N’s side throughout their whole journey, at each and every road block, she was there for Ba Sing Se—for all of Ba Sing Se. 

And somehow, Zuko had gotten her to forgive him too. 

It was selfish, unbelievably so, for it to hurt her so much when Katara had just faced something impossible. But she couldn’t help the way that her chest twisted, how her heart ached, how her nails dug so deep into her palms they left indentations. 

When the rest of them got back onto Appa, Katara sat down next to her. “Thank you for coming.” 

“Of course.” She didn’t make eye contact, her gaze focused into the distance as Aang set off for camp. “I’m glad you got to face him. That you made the right decision for you.” 

“Y/N,” she murmured, “I know what this is about.” 

“It’s not about anything except you,” she evaded. “This was a journey you had to take—we’re all behind you.” 

“And you have all my thanks for that,” Katara said. She glanced at Zuko on the other side of the saddle, very obviously trying to pretend like he wasn’t listening in on their conversation. He wasn’t very good at it. “But I know you’re upset about… that.” 

“We don’t need to talk about this right now,” she said. 

“Y/N…”

She didn’t say anything. Katara sighed and settled back down on the saddle. 

“Okay,” she nodded. “When you’re ready.”

Quiet conversation was made on the other side of the saddle between the three boys, but there was nothing between Katara and Y/N. 

Nothing except a newly found weight on both their shoulders. 

- 

The sizzling fuse exploded when they got back to camp, though. A ride spent staring at the sky didn’t do much for her. Y/N got down from Appa the moment Aang guided him to the ground, and Katara let out a hefty sigh as she followed after her. She started to say her name, but she didn’t get far. 

“Even you forgave him.” Her words were cold, icy rather than hot anger. “Even you! After everything we’ve talked about— everything you know!” 

“I— I know,” Katara said, and she let out a deep sigh as she ran a hand through her loose hair. “But… but he helped me in a way that no one ever had. I found my mother’s killer. I got closure.” 

“Well, maybe I should get him to help me find the guard who killed my father,” Y/N said sarcastically. “Maybe that’ll get me my bending back.” 

“It could,” Katara said, and she was actually genuine. “It could work. And Zuko would help you.” 

She huffed a mirthless laugh and shook her head, biting the inside of her lip to prevent the tears she knew would start welling up. “I’m not letting him back in. Even you said I shouldn’t.” 

“I can’t say I know how much you’re hurting,” Katara said, “but… but Zuko is hurting just as much as you. There’s no excuse for what he did, I’m not saying that. But he wants your forgiveness more than anything in the world.” 

“Did he tell you to say this during your trip?” she asked stiffly. “I mean, now that he’s turned you over to his side and everything.” 

“I’m saying this because I care about you,” Katara said softly. “Y/N, I have seen you hurting for months now, all because of Zuko. Even from the first moment we met in the North, I knew there was something inside of you, and it’s still there. And if you don’t take care of it, it’s going to consume you.” 

“I can’t forgive him.” Her voice was barely a whisper, a cracked, haunted resolve behind it. “I won’t let myself get hurt again.” 

“And I can’t promise that he won’t hurt you again,” Katara murmured. “But I do know if you decide to let him back in, he’ll spend the rest of his life trying to make it up to you.” 

Y/N wasn’t able to muster any words. She wrapped her arms around her midsection and turned away, blinking back tears. 

“He talked about you,” she continued. “When he wasn’t talking about the Fire Nation and where we were going, he was talking about you. He loved you back then, and he still loves you now. Even if it took him way too long to realize it.” Katara’s expression softened as well as her voice and she took a step closer. “All he wants is to help you however he can.” 

“If he loved me then and he still betrayed me,” she whispered, “then how can I ever trust him again?” 

“...You just have to,” Katara said quietly. “Trust in the Zuko you knew before you were forced to be on opposite sides. When the two of you were the missing half of each other’s souls.” 

She swallowed the lump in her throat, still unable to look back at Katara. “I can’t.” 

“Then at least don’t push us away,” Katara urged. “You’ve been off. I don’t know what it’s about, but you can tell me as little or as much as you want, whenever you’re ready. I’m here for you—we’re all here for you, Y/N. We love you so much. Let us help you.” 

She bit down on her lip hard to prevent the tears from welling up, and she was only able to muster a nod. “I will. Soon.” 

“...Okay.” 

Y/N walked off, and she could feel Katara’s worried gaze on her. It took all her strength not to look back. 

-

Three days. 

It all went on as usual. Suki asked if she was okay, but she didn’t push. 

Sokka wouldn’t stop looking at her strangely. He must have heard her leaving her tent in the middle of the night. 

-

Two days. 

The nightmares were worse. She nearly woke up screaming. Thankfully, she didn’t wake Katara. 

Aang sat with her during breakfast, telling ancient airbender stories. He didn’t ask anything when he had to repeat himself because of her blank stare at the ground. 

She spent most of the day sitting by the water. 

Maybe it would come back after this. 

-

One day. 

Everyone knew something was wrong, but she didn’t give any of them the chance to ask.

Especially Zuko. He wouldn’t stop looking at her, wouldn’t stop trying to talk to her. She brushed him off every time. 

She packed her bag that night. 

She barely slept a wink. 

-

“What are you doing?” 

Her plan was to leave at the crack of dawn, before her friends could ask any questions or try to go with her. She would be back by nightfall, and she would have closure. The nightmares would stop. The guilt would go away. She would be okay again. 

But of course, he had to ruin everything. 

She didn’t look over at the sound of Zuko’s voice as she rifled through her bag, making sure she had everything she needed. “Nothing.” 

“That doesn’t look like nothing.” 

“Very perceptive, aren’t you?” she said dryly. Y/N tied her bag shut and stood up, then climbed onto Appa’s back. “I’m leaving.” 

His eyes widened. “You’re leaving? Does everyone else know about this?” 

“Not leaving for good,” she scoffed. “I just have something I need to do.” 

“And that is?” 

Y/N glared fully at Zuko. “None of your business.” 

“You’re taking Appa in the middle of the night to go somewhere,” he said, crossing his arms. “Every time someone’s tried to do that, it’s been for something important. Sokka was going to the Boiling Rock, and Katara wanted to find her mother’s killer. I’m guessing whatever you’re going to do is equally important, which means you’re gonna need backup.” 

“I said it was none of your business,” she repeated. “I can handle myself just fine without you.”

“Well,” Zuko crossed his arms, “I’m not leaving until you tell me what you’re doing.” 

“You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met,” she jabbed. 

“You’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met,” he responded with a shrug.  

She went silent for a moment as her gaze traveled away, staring instead at the dark night sky. Today had been the hardest day yet, even looking back on her months in captivity. It was the day everything changed. She didn’t exactly know what possessed her to tell Zuko the reason, but after a moment, she did. 

“Seven years ago today, my village was invaded,” she said quietly. “It’s the day my mother and I were captured, and… and the day my father was killed.” 

Zuko’s eyes widened, and his voice was the same as hers when he finally mustered something. “I… I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.” 

“So am I,” she said, “but apologies haven’t helped me with anything. I’m going back. I’m visiting my village for the first time since my mother and I were taken. Now that I have the means to travel there, it’s something I need to do.” 

“I understand,” Zuko said, “completely. I’ll come with you.” 

Her response was instantaneous. “No.” 

“You can’t travel that far alone,” he insisted. “I have no doubt that you can handle yourself, but you’ve trained to fight with your bending, and right now you don’t have it. If you run into any kind of trouble, you’re… well, you’re gonna be in trouble.” 

“I can fight,” she said. “I’m good with my fists. I held my own against Azula.” 

“You did,” he admitted, “but her skill also isn’t in her hand to hand. And if you’re up against multiple people—say, Fire Nation guards—you’re gonna go down quick.” 

“You have just as much faith in me as ever,” she remarked sourly. 

“It’s not that I don’t have faith in you!” Zuko defended. “I just don’t want you to die because you have too much pride to accept any kind of help.” 

“It’s not that I don’t want any help,” she stated. “I just don’t want your help.” 

Zuko let out a long-lasting sigh, shaking his head before he finally met her eyes again. “Look. I know you don’t like me, and you don’t have to. Not after… not after what I did. But whatever’s between us can’t affect our mission, because ultimately we’re all here to defeat my father. That has to happen no matter what, so like it or not, we’re probably gonna have to work together at least once to make that happen.” 

“I don’t have to work with you if I don’t want to,” she said. 

“Really? So if we’re in the middle of a fight and your choice is to either work with me or die, what would you do?” 

“I’m not that stupid,” she snapped. 

Annoyingly, though… he had a point. They couldn’t afford any distractions, not so close to the end. And Y/N wouldn’t be the reason for their failure because of Zuko. 

“...Fine,” she relented, but the glare she pinned him with was still withering. “But you do whatever I tell you to do, and you don’t come with me when we get to my village. This is private.” 

Zuko immediately broke out into a grin and he nodded. “Of course. I’m here for you.” 

She averted her gaze as she took her seat on Appa’s head. “Get your things before I leave you here.” 

He nodded again and he started off towards his tent. Y/N let out a loose sigh as she rubbed her hands up and down her arms, the early morning chill beginning to get to her. 

A trip with Zuko to her childhood village on the anniversary of the worst day of her life. 

This couldn’t go terribly at all, she thought wryly. 

-

“...So,” Zuko said, “do you know where we’re going?” 

“No,” she said, “I just thought I would lead Appa around blindly and hope that we somehow end up in the right place.” 

“So you do know—” 

“Of course I know where we’re going,” Y/N snapped. Maybe it was unfair of her, but she didn’t exactly care. “Sokka took a map from Wan Shi Tong’s library before it collapsed, and he let me borrow it. It’ll take us a couple of hours, but we should make it before noon.” 

Zuko nodded. “Where is your village? You never told me much about it when you talked about your past.” 

“Why do you care?” 

He huffed a laugh. “You can’t be serious.” 

She said nothing, and Zuko sighed. “I care about you, Y/N, more than anything. I’m here because I want to help you. Of course I care about where you’re from.” 

“That doesn’t mean we need all the small talk,” she said. 

“It’s not small talk, it’s a conversation,” Zuko said dryly. “I’m more than happy to sit here in silence with you for another six hours, but I think that’s pretty boring.” 

“...It’s by the southern coast, near the Zeizhou provinces,” she relented after a moment. “It’s so small that you can’t find it on a map unless you know what you’re looking for. We didn’t even have an official name—if we had to, we called it South Zeizhou because that was the only notable thing near us.” 

“What was it like?” he asked. “Growing up in a place like that.” 

“It was nice,” she said. “We were almost completely isolated from other villages, so we were tightly knit. Everyone knew each other—I’m sure I knew each person by name by the time I was five—and everyone helped each other. We didn’t have much, but everyone was well taken care of. Our community was everything.” 

“That sounds beautiful,” Zuko murmured. 

“It was,” she agreed. “Until your people invaded it and destroyed it.” 

Zuko went silent at that, but instead of the sick sort of satisfaction she normally experienced, she felt… guilty. 

It wasn’t his fault. Zuko was only a year older than her—when her village was invaded, he was probably in school lessons or learning how to be a prince. And now he was here, going against everything he knew, everything he’d ever had, to try and make things right. 

He was a child just like her. And with a father like Fire Lord Ozai… 

“...I’m sorry,” she said, and his eyes darted up, a bit of shock visible in them. “I know it wasn’t your fault. I just…” she sighed. “I’ve never forgiven the Fire Nation for what was done to my people. And I guess you’re just the easiest target.” 

“I understand,” he murmured. “And for whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry too.” 

“This doesn’t mean anything.” The words were quick to leave her mouth, and she didn’t look at him. “Just because I feel bad doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you.” Nevertheless, she could still hear the smile in his voice. 

“I know.” 

More silence. 

“What was your father like?” Zuko asked as he broke it. “You speak of him so fondly.” 

She bit her lip at the question as the memories flooded back, and Zuko was stumbling over his words almost immediately. 

“You— you don’t have to answer,” he said, “obviously, if it’s too much, but I—” 

“He was the nicest man you’d ever meet,” she said softly. “He was always willing to help anyone who needed it, always willing to do far more than he had to if he thought it would make someone happy. And he did—he made my mother the happiest woman alive. He was beloved by everyone in the village.” Y/N swallowed hard. “He died to protect it. To protect me.” 

“You’ve made him proud,” Zuko said. “I know you have.” 

“I hope so,” she murmured. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

She meant to leave it at that, but for some reason, the words continued to flow. “But I… I’m worried about what will happen when I get there.” that they won’t recognize me when I come back.” 

Zuko frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It’s been years since I was there.” Y/N let go of the reins and wrung her hands together. She glanced down at the bandages, the rough fabric almost a comfort after her time without them. “I haven’t been back since I was captured. What if they resent me for not being there?” 

“No one could possibly resent you for that,” he scoffed. “You were taken, Y/N, by soldiers. You were a child—what could you have done?” 

“Anything,” she muttered. “If I had done anything, maybe things would have been different.” 

“You can’t do that to yourself,” Zuko insisted. “You’ll drive yourself insane going down that path.” 

She shrugged. “That doesn’t mean it isn’t true.” 

“Look at me.” 

Y/N frowned. “What?” 

“Turn around and look at me,” he said again. “And don’t do your stubborn I hate Zuko thing. Just humor me for once.” 

She scoffed and crossed her arms as she turned around, looking him in the eye. “What?” 

“Do you think it’s Katara’s fault that her mother is dead?” 

The jump to the topic made her blink, recoiling the slightest bit. “What? No— spirits, of course not.” 

“But she died to save her,” Zuko said. “The raiders were there looking for the last waterbender, and that was Katara. Her mother gave herself up in place of her.” 

“That’s not her fault,” she said. “Her mother ch—” 

It hit her then, and her eyes narrowed. “You’re not clever.” 

The slightest smile tugged at Zuko’s lips and he shrugged. “It worked, didn’t it?” 

“You’re not clever,” she simply repeated, and she turned back around and grabbed the reins. She couldn’t see Zuko’s pleased expression as he adjusted his position in the saddle. 

“Just trying to help,” he said, and his voice softened. “You’ve made your father proud, even if you don’t think so. You’ve made both your parents proud.” 

She didn’t respond. She feared that if she tried to, the tears would spring. And she wasn’t going to cry. 

But she appreciated his words more than he knew. Maybe even more than she knew. 

But she couldn’t say that. And so they rode in silence. 

-

“We’re almost here,” she announced, and she lightly tugged at Appa’s reins to get him to slow down. It had been a few hours of silent flying and navigating, but they’d made good time. By the spot of the sun in the sky, she could tell it was just before noon. 

“Good,” he said. 

They had been in the air for hours, starting even before the sun had risen, so it was no surprise when she glanced behind her and saw Zuko fighting off grogginess in the form of a barely stifled yawn. 

“You didn’t have to come, you know,” she said, maybe a little too snippy. 

“I wasn’t going to let you go alone,” Zuko said. “And even though you might not think so, I like being around you. I…” he sighed and shook his head. “Nevermind.” 

“What?”

“I just want things to be the way they used to be,” he murmured. “But I know that can’t happen. And I know you’re tired of hearing it.” 

“...I want that too,” she said quietly after a moment of hesitation. 

She heard the rustling of leather and a sharp intake of breath, and it wasn’t hard to tell he was shocked by her words. And maybe she was shocked too, because she knew she meant them completely. 

“Y/N,” Zuko started, “you—” 

But then he was interrupted by her gasp. 

“What?” he asked, only a moment of hesitation before he switched veins. He moved up beside her, and his eyes widened. “Flames of Agni…” 

In the distance, she could see where the forest abruptly stopped. It went on for kilometers, the ashy remnants of fauna and chopped stumps. So much of the forest was just— was just gone. And in the center of it all…

Her village was unrecognizable. Houses made of wood and stone had been torn down and replaced with metal buildings, and the few original buildings that still were in disrepair, riddled with scorch marks and on the verge of falling apart. She could see armed Fire Nation soldiers manning certain spots around the village, as well as marching through the streets. They numbered far more than anyone in simple Earth Kingdom garb. 

Flags and banners with Fire Nation insignias hung everywhere, but the worst part was the factory. It was as big as ten of their old homes, black, polished metal only good for serving as an eyesore. It pumped out acrid black smoke, and even from so far away it made her eyes sting. Her hands clenched into fists around the reins, and anger swelled up inside of her. 

Everything that was held sacred in her village was gone, ruined by the Fire Nation for their own gain. Just like everything else in the world.

And she hadn’t even known about it. 

“The Fire Nation is still here,” she said shakily. “I… I don’t know what I expected. I thought they would move on after the raid, but…” She barely managed to choke back a sob by clenching her jaw tightly. “They destroyed it all.” 

“I’m so sorry.” There was horror in Zuko’s voice, and like her, he was unable to look away from the devastation. “I… If I had known…” 

“Sorry isn’t going to fix anything,” she said bitterly, but it was more pained than anything. 

“Then we will fix it,” he countered. Her eyes flicked up to him, the smallest bit of surprise visible. “We’ll take your village back and get the Fire Nation out, once and for all.” 

Y/N’s grip tightened even further on the reins, her nails digging deep into her palms as she nodded. Her eyes hardened as they moved back to her village, and she nodded resolutely. 

“You’re damn right we will.” 

-

“Are you okay?” 

“Of course I’m not okay,” she said. She wanted to snap at him, but she didn’t have the energy. Not after what she’d seen. 

She and Zuko had set up camp a while away from her village, deep in what remained of the forest to give Appa enough cover. Though she wanted to light a fire, she knew it was too risky. And so they sat together on the ashy, barren ground, the air between them heavier than ever. 

They were going to take back her village, that much was a given. The only question was how. 

“You’re right,” he murmured. “It was a stupid question.” 

“I just don’t understand,” she said weakly as she sat back on the ground. “Why would they stay in our village? We’re so far off the map that it’s probably costing them more to be here than not.”

“That’s what the Fire Nation does,” Zuko said. “They destroy everything they get their hands on.”

When Y/N looked up at him, he was staring at the ground, his jaw clenched. 

“It’s about breaking their spirit,” he continued. “If they just left, your people could fight back. Get revenge for the invasion. But if they take over completely—”

“They crush an uprising before it has the chance to grow,” she murmured, “and they gain a workforce and all the natural resources they could want.”

“Yeah.”

Zuko’s voice was oddly quiet, stilted in a way she couldn’t place. She couldn’t stop herself from asking.

“What happened when you went back to the Fire Nation?”

Zuko glanced at her, swallowing hard before he looked away. “I’m not sure you want to know.”

“I do,” she said. “And I think I have the right to know.”

“Mai and I got together.” He sounded almost embarrassed, and she hated the twist of jealousy in her chest. “We talked during the entire boat ride home, and it went from there.”

“Oh,” she said stiffly. “So while I was sentenced to rot in prison for the rest of my life, you were getting busy with the girl who’s loved you her whole life.”

His cheeks flushed bright red in spite of the obvious anger. “That’s not what it was!”

“Really? Because that’s exactly what it sounds like.”

“We were both struggling,” he insisted. “I… I wasn’t handling Ba Sing Se well, and Mai was having doubts about everything. We gravitated towards each other in our misery, and— and it just happened.”

“You can’t honestly believe that’s true,” she snapped.

“You don’t know anything about Mai if you think it isn’t!” he exclaimed. “Neither of us were—”

“What?” she asked, brazen in his silence as he suddenly cut off. “You weren’t what?”

“…We realized that we didn’t like each other in that way,” he finished in a mumble. “Expectations pushed us together. Our own feelings pulled us apart.” Zuko looked back at her this time. “We couldn’t ignore our… our true feelings.”

“And what are those true feelings?” she asked. She couldn’t help the mocking tone in her voice, but the anger was beginning to come back. Mai had never been mean to her back in the palace, but it was hard to forget Omashu and Ba Sing Se. And it wasn’t exactly nice to hear that she and Zuko got together right after she was sentenced to a life in prison. 

“I love you,” he said, “and you know that. But Mai, she—” Zuko shook his head and glanced away. 

“What?” she repeated. 

“...Do you remember Ty Lee?” 

She frowned. “Yeah. She’s tried to kill me a couple times.” 

“That’s who,” he said, and her eyes widened slightly. “They’ve always been close, but… I don’t know. Maybe the pressure of working under my sister brought them together. Maybe me being as horrible as I was pushed her away. But all I know is that Mai has feelings for her, and none for me. And I’m okay with that.” 

“...Ty Lee,” Y/N said, and she managed a chuckle. “I think that’s the last pair I expected.” 

Zuko cracked a smile. “It works, though. I hope they can figure something out.” 

“Yeah,” she mumbled. “Me too.” 

But then Zuko’s expression sobered again as he looked at her, his gaze as piercing as ever. “You know I don’t like her. You know there’s nothing between us. A—and you said you wanted things to be the way they used to be.” His voice was low, but there was no mistaking the edge of desperation in it. “So why can’t they be?” 

“Why does it always come back to us?” she asked bitterly. 

“Because I want there to be an us again so badly,” he said. Zuko’s voice was so genuine it pained her, and she hated how easily he was cracking her resolve. 

The walls used to be easy to keep up, used to be gratifying. But now all it did was hurt. The night was cold, and she longed for his embrace. 

But Zuko was fire. Beautiful, inviting, full of warmth, but able to hurt her just as easily. 

And spirits, that was all she could think about as the scar on her arm stung. The burns on her hands had faded, and Ba Sing Se’s mark was nearly gone as well, but she couldn’t forget.  

“Maybe there can’t be an us again,” she mumbled as she stood up. “And maybe we just both have to accept that.” 

The look in Zuko’s eyes hurt, his downcast expression combined with the same longing she felt. So she walked away towards the forest, or rather what remained of it. 

“I’m going to scout out our surroundings,” she said, though it was half-hearted. “I’ll be back when the sun starts setting. We’ll figure out a plan at nightfall.” 

She’d disappeared into the woods soon enough. If Zuko said something, she didn’t hear it. 

-

She held true to her word, and she was back by nightfall. Zuko had drawn a map of her village in the dirt with a stick, and though it was crude it was accurate. It turned out he had a better memory than she thought, and it also seemed that when they were working towards something like this, it was easier to work through the tension. 

It took the better part of an hour for them to come up with something and actually agree on it, and it was still shakier than he liked—a lot of it relied on her people remembering Y/N the way that she remembered them. But it was a plan, and it could work, so it was good enough. 

Soon enough, they were back on Appa, riding through the inky sky towards her village. Dressed in black from spares Zuko had in his bag—the same outfit he lended Katara during her mission, she was sure—they blended in perfectly. 

“We’re here,” she whispered, and Zuko nodded as he sheathed his sword and moved up next to her on Appa’s head. “Do you remember the plan?” 

“Of course I do,” he said. “Are you dropping down here?” 

“Yeah. I’ll signal when I’m ready for you.” 

He nodded again. “Good luck, Y/N.” 

“...Thanks.” 

She guided Appa closer to the ground, handing the reins off to Zuko when she thought she was close enough. She slid off as quietly as she could, her moccasins doing little to help with the shock of landing but good enough at muffling her movements. There were fewer guards than before, but it still made her nervous. 

Y/N didn’t even dare to breathe as she moved through her village, ducking behind cover when she needed to as she made her way towards one of the only remaining houses. Despite the Fire Nation banner hanging across the front, it still felt like it was her village rather than another forced colony. 

That was something, she supposed. 

She pushed the door open quietly and pulled the fabric down from her face, checking once more to make sure there were no guards before she closed it. And when she turned around, she was met by a wide-eyed woman and a stark-faced man darting up from his spot on the floor. 

It probably wasn’t the best look, showing up dressed in all black in the middle of the night while the village is occupied by soldiers. She could only hope they would recognize her. 

“What are you doing in our home?” he demanded, but his wife shook her head. 

“I must be dreaming,” she whispered, and she stood up as well. “Y/N? Is… is that you?” 

“Leya,” Y/N said, and she felt the pinpricks of tears behind her eyes, “you remember.” 

Leya laughed and clasped her hands together as she moved closer and pulled her into an embrace. “Of course I remember you, darling! How could I forget the little waterbender who always managed to soak my laundry just as it had finished drying?” 

“Gan’s girl,” the man—Lao—marveled, and he laughed as well. “What in Kyoshi’s name are you doing here?” 

“It’s hard to explain,” she said, slightly sheepish as she pulled out of Leya’s hug. “But basically… I’m here to save the village.” 

Lao shook his head with a smile—that same smile she remembered from her youth, a mix of approval and surprise. “You haven’t been here since the invasion and now you’re here to save our village. You haven’t changed a bit.” 

“What can I say?” she said with a slight laugh. “I’ve been busy with the Avatar.” 

“The Avatar?” Leya asked, and Y/N held up her hand. 

“As much as I’d love to tell you both what I’ve been up to all these years, we’re working on a schedule.”

“‘We’?” Lao caught. “Who else is here with you?” 

She didn’t think she could exactly say the crown prince of the Fire Nation, no matter how reformed he claimed to be.

“A friend of the Avatar,” she decided. “He’s waiting for my signal. That’s when the action’s going to start.” 

“What exactly is your plan?” Leya asked tentatively. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but our numbers aren’t the highest. Those who haven’t been sent away as laborers had their spirits broken long ago. There are very few with any kind of fight left in them.” 

“That’s okay,” she said. “I’ve got more than enough fight in me for this whole village. But I need your help.” 

Lao nodded. “Anything.” 

She smiled, a miniscule amount of weight dropping off her shoulders in relief. “Good.” 

-

Appa was stashed securely in the woods, a rucksack full of moon peaches to keep him happy and quiet, but Zuko was still nervous. 

How couldn’t he be, hiding behind a gaudy metal structure pretending to be a house that fit into this village? He was only the traitor boy prince of the Fire Nation, most likely with a wanted poster and a bounty on his head courtesy of his father. 

He wasn’t scared, though. 

Nervous? Sure. But he couldn’t wait to give these soldiers what they deserved. 

Zuko’s eyes snapped towards the sudden movement across the way—the Fire Nation banner had been ripped down from the house Y/N went into, and the woman who did it held her fist in the air for a moment before darting back inside. 

The signal. 

It was time. 

Zuko took a deep breath, pulled his broadswords out of their sheaths, and started moving. 

It didn’t take long to find a guard, standing at his assignment near some light post. Zuko dashed behind him and brought his swords up to his neck. 

“Stay quiet if you want to keep your head,” he said. “Nod if you understand.” 

The guard nodded, but Zuko saw his hand clenching into a fist. He moved one sword down, and he froze in place as the sharp edge settled against his skin. 

“No firebending either,” he growled. “You wanna test my patience some more, or are you ready to cooperate?” 

“I— I’ll cooperate,” he stammered. “Just don’t hurt me, please. What do you want?” 

It was almost pathetic. These people took over an innocent village, and now they were so confident that they stationed guards like this. Zuko wondered if this man even knew what had been done here. 

“Good,” Zuko said. “Who’s in charge here?” 

“General Lee,” he said, and Zuko had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Of course. “He— he’s the one who took over this place at the beginning. The one who ordered the invasion.” 

“And where is he?” 

“The biggest house at the end of the lane,” he said. “You— you can’t miss it.” 

Zuko thanked the soldier for his information by knocking the flat end of one blade against his head, and he took a step back as the man fell to the ground, unconscious. 

Step one complete. 

-

“How is your earthbending?” Y/N asked. She and Lao moved swiftly through the village under the cover of darkness, avoiding soldiers where they were stationed as they conversed in low voices. 

“Not as sharp as it used to be,” Lao said. “I’ve been hiding it since the invasion—otherwise they would have killed me or sent me away. What do you need it for?” 

Once again, that sheepishness came back. The plan she and Zuko created sounded very outlandish when she said it out loud. 

“I want to destroy the factory.” 

“You certainly don't aim low, huh?” Lao chuckled a bit, but he flexed his hands nonetheless. He moved his fist forward and a short pillar of solid rock shot up from the ground. “I’ve still got some of it, at least.”

“That’s why I asked for your help,” she said. “The Fire Nation builds everything out of metal, but I think they forget that rocks are pretty effective against it.” 

Lao smiled as he sent the rock back down into the earth. “I like how you think.” 

She smiled as well, but her head shot up at the movement near them. She stepped protectively in front of Lao, her instincts above anything, but the tension dissolved when she saw it was just Zuko. 

“Did you find out where he is?” she asked, and he nodded. 

“His name is Lee— General Lee,” he said. “The last house,” he pointed, “that way. You can’t miss it.” 

“Good.” She cracked her knuckles. “I have some things I’d like to say to him.” 

“Y/N,” he said, “he’s…” 

“What?” 

“He’s the one who did all of this,” Zuko said. “The one who ordered the invasion. He’s been here ever since.” 

Her jaw clenched as she felt fire ignite inside of her. “Then maybe I have a little bit more to say to him.” 

“Take this.” Zuko took one of his swords off along with its sheath and handed it to her. “Just in case.” 

She nodded, taking some satisfaction in her practice swings before she stashed it across her back, then she looked at Lao. “You two are going to take down the factory together. Is anyone in it still?” 

He shook his head. “Shifts ended a few hours ago. It should be completely empty.” 

“Good.” Y/N looked at Zuko. “How do you feel about causing some explosions?” 

He smirked. “Pretty great.” 

“And how do you feel about crushing a lot of stuff?” she asked, turning to Lao. 

“Even better.” 

“Great,” she smiled. “Obviously, this is going to make a lot of noise. Get out when you feel danger—we might have to bring this fight to the streets.” 

Lao cracked his knuckles. “Gladly. It’s about time we take our home back.” 

“Laya’s alerted the people?” Y/N asked. 

He nodded. “She’s gone house to house—she should be near the end by now. She and the rest of our people will be safe, and anyone who’s willing to fight will be ready for my signal.” 

“Then I think it’s time we split,” Y/N said. 

“Be careful,” Zuko said. “Don’t let your anger blind you.” 

“I’ll do what I have to do,” she said simply. 

Zuko nodded in understanding. “See you on the other side, then.” 

“See you on the other side,” she murmured. 

-

Y/N got used to the weight of the broadsword in her hand as she moved through the village yet again. She was surprised at how easy it was, how inattentive the few guards were. Their confidence would be their downfall. 

It wasn’t hard to find the house of the general. It was so massive it edged on gaudy, obviously built for nothing but the man’s ego. The door wasn’t locked, and she just shook her head as she slid inside. This was ridiculous. 

She closed the door as quietly as she could behind her, and she held her breath as she looked around the first floor. It was eerily empty, eerily silent. Maybe he wasn’t here. 

Y/N tightened the grip on the hilt of the sword as she crept up the stairs, wincing at every creak. The whole upstairs was the general’s room, and she shook her head. This was more luxury than anyone in the village lived in. He’d built his comfort off the pain of her people. 

“Would you like to tell me what you’re doing in my home?” 

She whipped around, her sword instinctively flying up as she stared right at her target. So he was here, and he’d been just as quiet as her. He was younger than she expected, but his eyes told everything she needed to know. 

“General Lee,” she said, and she was surprised at how steady her voice was. “This isn’t your home.” 

“Isn’t it?” He was dressed in a simple tunic and pants, no armor in sight. Good. “I was here when it was built, and as far as I’m aware, it was built for my use.” 

“You took it from my people,” she said. “You took everything from us.” 

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific,” he said nonchalantly. “I’ve taken over a lot of villages.” 

“Do you not have any shame?” Y/N demanded, and she pointed her sword at him. He didn’t even flinch. “Destroying the lives of innocent people, tearing apart their homes for resources, occupying them just to show off your strength. You kill people, you destroy families, and you don’t even care?” 

The general had the nerve to smile. “It’s the way of the world. The weak fall, the strong prevail. I guess your people were just weak.” 

Y/N couldn’t control herself after that. She yelled out as she lunged forward and swung with her sword. The general sidestepped her as she whirled back around, and he just laughed. 

“You want to fight, girl?” General Lee mocked. “For what? Your people? Your honor? You won’t get far, I assure you.” 

“For my family!” she growled. “Your men killed my father and forced my mother and I into servitude. I’ve wanted revenge for so many years, and now I can finally get it.” 

His eyes lit with recognition and he raised his eyebrows. “The waterbenders. So you managed to escape—impressive.” 

And then suddenly, there were two massive explosions. They were all the way across town, but it still rocked the foundations of the house. The impact must’ve been felt all over town, surely alerting every guard on duty that something was wrong.

Step two was complete. 

It was Y/N’s turn to smile at the general. “There goes your factory.” 

The general’s mocking confidence melted into cold anger. “You—” 

“Blew it up,” she responded. “Yeah.” 

She lashed out with her sword to force him out of the way, then booked it down the stairs and out of the house. She laughed in pure exhilaration as she saw all of the guards in the street, as well as the general running out of his house. The fire blazing in his hand matched the anger in his eyes. 

“You want a fight, girl?” he growled. “I’ll give you one!” 

General Lee launched the fireball at her and she dodged out of the way, watching as it sizzled against the ground. She held her sword in both hands, beckoning him to come further. It wouldn’t be an easy fight to win against an enraged firebender, but then again—she’d done it before. 

He was far too eager to go against a young girl as he shot fire at her in repetitive blasts. She dodged what she could and slashed through the others with her sword, lunging at him with the blade when Lee gave her space. 

But then fire shot past, narrowly missing her, and her head whipped around. It took these soldiers long enough to realize the fight was happening right next to them. 

“Come on, Zuko,” she muttered as she backed away from the men, the general and the soldiers narrowing in on her. She brandished her sword. “Where are you?”

“You’ve picked a battle that you can’t finish,” General Lee spat as fire lit in his hand, “just like your father!”

Rage hotter than anything before ignited inside of her. And then, everything happened at once. 

The general and his soldiers shot their fire at her. 

Someone yelled at her to duck, and she dropped to the ground. 

As the fire was extinguished above her, General Lee’s eyes widened. He took a step back. “What in Agni’s name—” 

“I’m not too late, am I?” Zuko reached a hand down to her, and Y/N let out a relieved breath. 

“Right on time,” she remarked as she took it and allowed him to help her up. “I’m in a bit of a situation.” 

“I noticed.” Zuko turned to the general and gestured with his head behind them. “I’m sorry, general, but I think someone blew up your factory!”

“Prince Zuko,” he said sourly. “So you’re a traitor as well.”

“I’m not a traitor,” he said, stepping in front of Y/N ever so slightly. “I’m helping free these people from your glorified slavery.”

The general’s eyes narrowed. “So all it takes for the crown prince to give up his values is a pretty face.”

“You’re a sick man,” Zuko spat. “Take your soldiers, leave this village, and we’ll give you the mercy you never extended to her people.”

“I don’t think so,” Lee said, and he smiled. “Don’t worry, though—this’ll all be over soon. Unless you think you can go against every soldier here on your own.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve been outnumbered,” Y/N said, and she drew her sword. “Besides—”

“—They’ve got help,” someone interrupted. She looked behind her and saw Lao, followed by a myriad of villagers—some earthbenders, some that were just ready to end this. More than she thought still lived here, more willing to fight than she thought. 

So everyone’s spirit wasn’t broken. 

She smiled. Step three. 

“So you want to make this harder,” General Lee said. “I admire your tenacity, but it won’t do you much good.”

“We’ll see,” Zuko said. 

Lee didn’t even say anything before he started firebending, and Zuko blocked it yet again. The battle immediately escalated from there, earthbenders and soldiers and swordsmen fighting. It was mostly visible in flashes of fire and the occasional lamppost, but it was loud.

Y/N and Zuko fought side by side against the general, their moves seamless—whenever one fell back, the other would step forward. She was surprisingly good with a sword, but it might’ve been her adrenaline.

With the amount of energy and anger pumping through her veins, she was sure she could take on anything at that moment. And having Zuko with her… She would be lying if she said it didn’t help. 

It was a deadly dance between the three of them. Y/N’s sword sung as it cut through the air, and it was in sharp contrast to the explosions of fire in the background and the general’s own bending against them. 

Maybe it was that adrenaline inside of her, or maybe it was the thought of finally getting to deliver justice for her village. Maybe the spirits were finally on her side. But whatever it was, General Lee ended up stumbling as he dodged the sword’s jab at him, and it gave her enough time for Zuko to kick him in the chest and send him backwards. Y/N took the opening and swept his legs, putting all her strength into the single move, and it worked. 

He fell to the ground, a slight grunt being forced out as he landed on his back, and Y/N pointed her sword at his neck. She took immense satisfaction in the flicker of fear in his eyes. 

“Zuko,” she said placidly, “go help the others.” 

He looked at her for a good, long moment before he conceded with a step back. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret.” 

“I won’t regret this,” she murmured. 

Zuko’s gaze remained on her for another moment before he turned and ran back into the fray. Y/N could do nothing but stare down at the general. The man who took everything away from her in one short afternoon, now defenseless below her blade. 

“So,” she said, “after all this time, all it took was one fight for you to fall.” 

The general gave her a wry smile. “It wasn’t exactly a fair fight.” 

“Neither was the invasion of my village. But that didn’t stop you, did it?” 

“You savages have never understood,” he growled. “No great leader has ever gotten anywhere by being nice, by yielding to the demands of those lesser than him. There’s a reason the Fire Nation is at the world’s helm while every other nation continues to fall to its feet.” 

“Because you go after the defenseless!” she exclaimed. “You go after those who can’t do anything against you, and then you destroy everything you find. All you care about is power.” Y/N huffed a mirthless laugh and gestured around them. “And look where that’s gotten you.” 

“Yield,” she demanded before he had the chance to speak, moving her sword closer to his neck. “Yield, and leave this village, and I’ll let you leave with your life.”

The general laughed, followed by a wince as her blade nicked his skin. “Don’t you know anything about the Fire Nation? You served there for so long.”

“Yield!” she shouted, her voice trembling along with her grip. She just wanted this to be over. 

“We fight until death,” he continued. “You’re going to have to kill me if you want your way.”

“You think I won’t?” she challenged. ”You’ve taken everything from me! Your life is too small a price to pay for what you’ve done!”

“I think you’re weak,” he spat. “Too weak to do what you need to do.”

Her eyes stung with tears as she pulled the sword away from his neck.

General Lee huffed a laugh. “Like I said: you’re wea—”

He was stopped in the middle of his sentence as she plunged the sword into his heart. His eyes widened as he choked out his last breath, the light beginning to drain out of him. And then he was gone.

“I’m not weak anymore,” she murmured. 

Y/N stared at his lifeless body for a moment, glanced at the gleam of blood on metal. 

She had just killed a man. The one responsible for her father’s death, for the imprisonment of her and her mother, for the invasion of her village. 

Y/N didn’t feel remorse, didn’t feel satisfaction—but she felt whole. Like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

She sheathed her sword and walked away, back towards the chaos of the ongoing fight. Zuko had joined the others, fighting with a combination of his sword and his bending, and it worked wonders. For a moment, all she could do was watch him. The grace he fought with was akin to that of a waterbender. 

Lao moved like he was twenty years younger, working in tandem with other earthbenders as they took down the Fire Nation forces soldier by soldier. Toph would have been proud.

But now there was only one thing left to do. 

Y/N took a deep breath then cupped her hands around her mouth, yelling as loudly as she could. “Soldiers of the Fire Nation! Your general is dead!”

That was enough of a shock to knock them off their balance, because Zuko and the earthbenders all immobilized their foes. Zuko with a sword to the neck, Lao and his crew with rocks around their legs and other limbs. The fight died down quickly, all of them staring at her. Zuko’s expression was impossible to read. 

“You heard me,” she repeated, “General Lee is dead. You have no stake in this village anymore. Leave, or face the same fate as him.”

“Will you stand here and fight for a nation that doesn’t care about you?” Zuko shouted, catching on to her goal. “Or will you do what’s right and leave these people be?”

Silence hung in the air, only broken by the heaved breaths of soldiers and earthbenders alike. She stared at them all expectantly, her heart pounding in her chest. 

And then, the clatter of a sword against the ground.

“I surrender.” A soldier being held in place by rocks around her ankles had dropped her weapon, looking Y/N straight in the eye. “I’ve served the Fire Nation blindly for far too long.”

She nodded at the earthbender, and he retracted the stone around her. 

“Go,” Y/N said. “Back to wherever you came from.” 

“Your mercy…” the soldier murmured, and she shook her head. “Thank you for giving us a second chance. I know it means little, but I apologize. For everything.”

And then she walked off—in the direction of the shore, she noticed—and soon enough, she’d disappeared into the wood. They must’ve come in on ships. 

Slowly, the remaining soldiers either dropped their weapons or declared their own surrender, and one by one they were let go. The sound of clattering metal was music to her ears, and with each one the weight lifted a little more. 

The soldier in Zuko’s hold was the last to drop his sword, and Zuko kicked it away before removing his blade from his neck. As he walked away, she let out a sigh of relief.

“…We did it,” she said. “We finally did it.”

“You did it,” Zuko said as he sheathed his sword, doing the same to the other when Y/N handed it to him. “None of this would have been possible without you.” 

“Wouldn’t have been possible without you either,” she said, and the smallest smile tugged at his lips. 

Lao walked up to her, and he enveloped her in the biggest, tightest hug she’d felt since Katara’s at the air temple. She reciprocated immediately, tears springing into her eyes at the warmth he carried. 

“You did it,” he said, his voice and eyes full of pride as he pulled away, though his hands remained on her shoulders. “You’ve given us the freedom that none of us could attain in seven years. We owe everything to you, Y/N.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” she said, unable to help her grin, and she looked back at the other villagers. “Any of you—thank you so much. Tonight, you fought for our people! You fought for our village! And we’re finally free from the Fire Nation.” 

A wild cheer erupted from the group, and Y/N had to wipe away the tears that began to fall. They’d really done it. 

“Go, be with your families!” she exclaimed. “Celebrate with your loved ones! You deserve it—enjoy your freedom!” 

Several of the villagers clapped her on the shoulder or shook her hand as they began to wander around, returning back to their houses. She heard one discussing architectural plans, about what they would do with everything the Fire Nation left behind, as well as their houses. The smile wouldn’t leave her face. 

And then Zuko walked up, alerting her to his presence by clearing his throat. “Y/N,” he said, and she turned around. 

“What?” 

“First of all, congratulations.” His own small smile was there, and she felt her cheeks warm. “You freed your village from a seven year occupation. It’s amazing.” 

“It feels amazing.” She rubbed her arms, the cold of the night beginning to get to her as her adrenaline from the battle started to fade. “I can’t believe we did it.” 

“I’m not surprised,” Zuko said. “You can do anything you put your mind to—I’ve learned that twenty times over by now.” 

She chuckled a bit, but Zuko’s expression sobered. “But I have to ask. You… you killed the general.” 

The air between them immediately changed. “I did.” 

“How do you feel?” he asked. 

“I don’t feel happy,” Y/N said, “so you don’t have to worry about that. I’m not going to start killing everyone that’s ever wronged me.” 

Zuko laughed, though it was slightly nervous. “That’s, uh— that’s good.” 

“But I don’t feel sad either,” she said. “I just feel… right. Like it was something I had to do. Not just for my people, but for me. To know that he’ll never be able to hurt someone the way he hurt me.” 

“...Good,” Zuko repeated. “That’s all we can ask for, isn’t it?” 

She nodded. “But… I’d appreciate it if you kept this between us. At least until I’m ready to tell everyone.” 

“Of course,” he agreed. 

“Good,” she said. 

Y/N looked up at the sky, the sun having fully set. It was dark except for the bits of ashes that littered the battlefield and the lanterns that lit up the path through the village. But there was still something she needed to do. 

She looked back at Zuko. “I have something I need to see. And I want you to come with me. Is… is that okay?” 

He smiled, his voice soft when he spoke. “I’d love to.” 

- 

The path she led him down was one well-traveled by the people of her village—the inky darkness they walked through was penetrated only by the flames Zuko held in his hand at Y/N’s request. She knew she would be able to find her way without it, though. 

“Where are we going?” he asked. 

“Somewhere special,” Y/N answered. “Sad, but special. Somewhere I’ve thought about a lot since my mother and I were taken.” 

It took a few more minutes of walking in silence only disturbed by night ambiance. When they got there, Y/N let out a quiet sigh. There was unimaginable weight behind the sound. 

“We’re here.” 

“Where is ‘here’?” Zuko asked tentatively. But then he made the fire in his hand bigger and brighter, and his breath caught in his throat. 

“...Hi, Dad,” she said softly, her gaze focused on the headstone. “It’s me. Your little girl finally found her way back home.” 

“Y/N…” he murmured. 

“I’ve been wanting to come here for a long time, but I’ve never been able to,” she continued. “But you don’t have to worry anymore—the village is free. The Fire Nation is gone. And Mom is okay—she’s safe in Ba Sing Se, and after all of this is over, I’m going to find her again, and I’m going to take care of her. You don’t have to worry about us anymore.” Y/N chuckled. “I’m sure I’ve been driving you crazy with everything I’ve been doing lately. But you can rest in peace now.”  

“Are you sure you want me here?” he asked. “I— I don’t want to disturb you—” 

She shook her head, placing her hand lightly on his arm. “Stay. Please.” 

“...Okay,” he said. “Of course.” 

“This is Zuko,” she said, and she laughed a bit as he hesitantly waved. “He’s… he’s the most important person in my life.” 

His eyes widened a bit and he looked at her, but her only response was to wordlessly slip her hand into his. He didn’t hesitate to lace his fingers through hers. 

“We’ve been through a lot together, and I’ve… I’ve been really angry at him lately. And I thought it was good, righteous anger, but all it did was eat me up inside. I’ve been miserable because of it—I even lost my bending. But now… now, I understand.” 

She looked at Zuko now. His gaze hadn’t moved. 

“I love you,” she said, “and I mean that with everything in me. I’ve been so angry at you because of what you did that I haven’t let myself think about anything that you’ve done—and you’ve helped my friends so much since you joined them. You’ve helped me too, even when I claimed I didn’t need anyone.” 

“And all this time, I thought that letting you go was what I needed to do. But I couldn’t have been more wrong.” She tightened her grip on his hand—her lifeline. “I’ve lost so much in my life, Zuko, things that I can’t get back. And I’m not going to let myself lose you again.” 

Y/N pressed a gentle kiss to Zuko’s lips, and he extinguished the fire in his hand as he immediately reciprocated it. It was impossibly soft, impossibly right. And Y/N knew then that this was exactly where she was supposed to be. 

“I love you too,” he murmured, and his eyes shone even in the darkness. “More than anything. And I’m so sorry that I ever made you think anything else.” 

She pulled away from the kiss to embrace him, and when his arms wrapped around her, it was like home. The constant twist in her chest, the constant weight she’d been carrying for months—it dissipated, and she felt lighter than ever. Spirits, it all felt so right. 

And when they pulled away, Y/N rested her head on Zuko’s chest. He responded by wrapping his arm around her waist, pulling her in close. 

“Thank you for taking me here,” he said. “For trusting me enough with it.” 

“Thank you for never giving up on me,” she said. 

“Speaking of that…” Zuko said, and there was a slight lilt to his voice as he lit the fire in his hand again. “How about trying that bending again?” 

Y/N chuckled a bit as she looked at her hand, flexing her fingers the way she used to. She barely had to concentrate as she pulled moisture from the air, forming into an orb of water in the air. She wasn’t even shocked—she’d known, after they got here. It wasn’t anything concrete, just… a feeling. A feeling that order had returned. 

“It’s back,” he said, and the boyish surprise in his voice made her smile. 

“That it is.” 

Y/N formed it into a flower and then froze it, gingerly taking the stem in her fingers. She walked up to her father’s grave, running her fingers over the engravings. She wasn’t here when it was made, but she was so thankful it had been made. That her people had always been thinking of her and her family. 

GAN 

HUSBAND OF KURA, FATHER OF Y/N

48 AG-93 AG

WILL BE REMEMBERED FOR HIS LOVE AND HEROICS

It was bittersweet, but she was glad he had a spot here. He would always be remembered. 

She carefully placed the flower of ice against the headstone, lowering the temperature of her breath as she blew on it to preserve it longer. It would melt eventually, of course, but this wouldn’t be her last time here. Next time, there would be real flowers. 

“I love you, Dad,” she murmured, resting her head against the stone as she closed her eyes. “Forever and always.” She stayed there for a moment, and the gentle breeze that blew through the enclave was no coincidence. For the first time in a very, very long time, she felt peace inside. 

She stood back up with a sad smile, wiping at the tears before she turned to Zuko. “I’m ready.” 

“Are you sure?” 

Y/N nodded. “I am.” 

Zuko nodded too, and they started to walk together down the path. 

And when he offered his hand, she took it without hesitation. 

-

hope you enjoyed this mf emotional marathon of a chapter lmao im gonna go hibernate for a few months because jfc

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[aziraphales-library]

Hi! Hope you are doing fine :) The second season has only aired and I imagine it will be months and months before this one gets answered, but I think my question will still be relevant and possibly will get more answers by the time we all stop hurting so much.

So, I've seen the post about how naive we all were about ineffable husbands figuring their shit out immediately after notapocalypse (or like AT ALL) and how used we are to all the difficulties being settled off-screen or ignored and rushing to happy parts. And as we see in season 2 this is not the case at all, and all their trauma/habit of not talking to each other and whatever else really needs to be resolved before any happy ending is possible. What fics can you recommend about Hard Work Being Done with happy results (canon-compliant to either first or both seasons)?

Hello. Here are some canon compliant fics in which communication and effort happen...

Locked In by RepQueen15 (T)

After four weeks of Crowley crying and moping over Aziraphale, Maggie and Nina had started scheming. He’d registered it all, the cleared throats and the hints about ‘helping revamp the cafe soon.’ Crowley cursed himself for not waking the fuck up from his stupor and getting them to stop. He knew it was over. He knew. He’d given it all he’d got. And Aziraphale had forgiven him. He’d fucking forgiven Crowley. Fuck Maggie and Nina. They did this. ‘This’ being locked in the cafe. Locked inside the walls of ‘Give Me Coffee Or Give Me Death,’ with him. Aziraphale. God-fucking-damn he hated his life. * Or: Crowley and Aziraphale get trapped together and have to have a Serious Talk About Their Relationship.

on one wounded wing by shoebox_addict (T)

“I'm done with Heaven,” said Aziraphale, with conviction. He’d had a long time to think this through, he knew where he stood now. “I'm on our side.” “You've said that before.”

Something lasts forever by Aidaran (T)

After Aziraphale leaves, Crowley is left to drink himself to death and be just as miserable as he can be. Lucky for him, Nina doesn't have patience for drunk demons in his shop, and Maggie is always willing to give a helping hand. Or, How Give me Coffee or Give me Death became an unexpected embassy for hell and heaven forces to gather, so certain ground rules had to be set. ------- "Still taking care of him?" Maggie said softly as Crowley exhaled with annoyance and reclined his back on her counter. "I want to prove him wrong. Some things do last forever. I want him to come back and see they do." “And then what?” He looked confused for a second. Truth was, he wasn’t letting himself think too much about what would happen when the angel returned. If he returned. He’d been avoiding that pain for millenia and wasn’t going to start allowing it to creep in. “Well, haven’t got my plan that far yet.”

Love sought is good, but given unsought is better by elf_on_the_shelf (T)

Armageddon came and went and Crowley is trying his hardest to get whatever it was that he had hoped and dreamed for millennia to have with Aziraphale going. Unfortunately for him, the angel is not there yet. Unfortunately for both of them, Crowley, despite him being a darn optimist, really can't wait any longer. This is a fic that explores all of their inner turmoil and means to address as much as it can of their past trauma. It's a fic about healing old wounds and the both of them getting to be better supernatural entities all on their own before they try their hand at any type of relationship. Or: Crowley gets therapy by means of tough love. Aziraphale has a long - and I do mean long - talk with himself.

wartimes by ffonippop (G)

Crowley decides he's gotten too sentimental in his time on Earth. He fucks off to Canis Major to listen to angry, scorned, and bitter songs, adamantly avoiding break-up ones for his health and sanity, but Aziraphale, the bastard, invites him back to the bookshop for a post-breakup debrief. Much like the constellation Crowley's chosen to sulk at, Crowley is just a kicked puppy who can't refuse a beck and call. Still, he doesn't make it easy.

Sunlight or Demise by verovex (T) Anathema had once said she couldn’t see Adam’s aura, and it should’ve been more of a red flag, but the reality was it had just been so large she couldn’t see it for what it was. For Crowley, it was the same thing with trying to see reciprocation from Aziraphale. * The enormity of love was, by all accounts, indecipherable. Aziraphale had known what love felt like in this world. At least, he thought he understood it. He felt it all around him. He always had. Sometimes, it was stronger in particular places than in others. But, there was something blurred about it all if you looked too close. He’d realized that Heaven never felt like this, yet it’s where you were taught that it should exist. Aziraphale had started to wonder. He couldn’t decide when the thought first came around that perhaps the love he felt had actually been what was sifting between him and Crowley. At some point, it was easier to be humbled by the complacency of what they’d always been showing each other than outright admitting it for what it was. But that wasn't enough anymore.

- Mod D

[climbingmountsinai]

If there's one thing that's really shocked me since I started my conversion into Judaism, it's the staggering amount of antisemitism on the left. I knew it was there, and I knew it was harmful, but I never expected it to be so insidious. There are so many things that went over my head, or things I shrugged off because hey, it wasn't affecting me.

Now whenever I'm on a leftie forum, I feel like I'm the sole spokesman arguing for the humanity of the Jewish people. I have to deal with all the casual ignorance of people who know nothing of the culture talking about how they're not antisemitic, but....

But this whole "chosen people" thing makes me uncomfortable even though I don't know what it means

But all religion is evil, and they need to stop clinging to stupid and antiquated traditions

But just say you hate Israel if you don't want to be spammed with the Palestinian flag every time you speak Hebrew

But I'm going to misquote and misinterpret this part of the Tanakh to own the Christians

But admit that you're privileged and rich and don't actually experience bigotry anymore

I'm not even Jewish! I don't have the authority to speak on these issues because it's not my culture yet- but I never thought I'd be met with so much open hostility and scorn when I tried. Judaism only has a place on the left insofar as it's funny and palletable and disdainful of all those bad Jews who don't assimilate in the right ways. As soon as you step out of line, Judaism is just spicy Christianity, and deserving of the same derision as its oppressor.

And I know that everything I've said has been said before in better ways, but I'm just so exhausted by being treated like the scum of the earth by people I thought I could help educate. I had no clue it was this bad.

[allsadnshit]

healing my relationship with femininity has been so important this past couple years and I think sometimes the way it's talked about can make it so much harder and so shameful for a lot of people to admit they struggle with because there's so much rhetoric about like "are you a girls girl or not?" and like a very black and white cold "girls who don't have girl friends are RED FLAGS! TOXIC! EVIL! TRAITORS" when I think in reality it's such an obvious sign of wounding to not be able to connect with women, whether growing up or in adulthood.

for myself it stems so largely from being raised by a single father and older brother and having my literal connection to women (my mom) severed really traumatically early in life when she passed and to fit in and be included in family things always meant having to sacrifice things I might have liked at the time like tea parties and barbie and being forced to watch action movies and male sports just to get quality time and attention in my home because they never made time for my interests as a young girl and were passively dismissive of them too (never let me pick the music cause I'd play "girlie stuff", never wanting to watch the movies I wanted to see in theaters meaning I also just didn't get to see them, having any feminine interests and hobbies be less celebrated) and it really shaped me.

somewhat naturally there was a glaring disconnect between not just myself and men who I couldn't seem to become communal with even if I shared all the same hobbies which I tried very hard to do like getting into yu gi oh and kung fu, but when I'd be put into situations with all other girls I felt isolated and clumsy because I didn't watch the same movies, didn't know how to do things like cute hair styles or braiding, and was just generally behind and felt much more like an observer than like I had any place in it.

I've always had girl friends but they were often isolated relationships with girls who also struggled with their girl relationships and were otherwise bullied or cast out, and those relationships even though sacred to me also often would become poisoned with jealousy and comparison because society pits women against each other especially growing up it felt like a literal competition and it's so common to be ranked by boys and even other girls and adults in terms of who's prettier or most desired which is really strange to apply to an already vulnerable dynamic in a formative part of life.

Because of a mix of all these bad circumstances I've really rejected myself and a lot of my natural connections to girlhood and women and I think it felt like an easier and safer route to just disconnect entirely which is what I did for most of my life until around the time of the first lock down when I was very privately buying girl clothes for the first time in years and experimenting with the idea that I'd like to allow myself some movement and fluidity with my relationship to gender. It really makes me sad the way so much of society makes us feel we need to do things a certain way or see ourselves a certain way to be living "correctly" when I think it's a very personal journey and being scorned and shamed for what we do or don't do makes us self conscious and unable to act naturally. I've gotten a lot of nasty comments from women who feel it should be easy to connect with women because they have gotten the privilege of healthy relationships with mothers, grandmothers, sisters, and friends and so feel that anyone who hasn't is just toxic and doing it to themselves which I just find extremely unkind and self interested.

and that's part of why I reject terms like "girls girl" even as I lean into healing my relationship to femininity and relationships with women and the social pressures we face. I know that term came about originally with the intention of expressing a relationship to women that was non competitive and based on mutual respect and care, but it's been transformed and used now in a really hatefully isolating way and I do not claim it or the energy towards other women it gives off of not seeing their humanity and flaws as places to grow and be loved through but as a reason to further disengage from.

[straydog733]

I just need to share with you one of the stupidest writing choices I've seen in a long time.

(Spoilers for The Gilded Age S2 Premiere)

-/-

-/-

So The Gilded Age is not a good show, but it's a not-good show that I'm going to watch every second of. It's by the guy who made Downton Abbey, leaning into all his worst habits, and it's trash in incredibly tacky outfits. But anyway, in Season 1, they have this character named Peggy. She's a young woman, from a Black Elite family in New York, ambitions to be a journalist, but also some mysterious secret that she's keeping all season. It's eventually dribbled out that she had a baby who died at birth, but when someone tries to blackmail her for her scandalous past, turns out she was married at the time (to a lower class man her father didn't approve of, but married nonetheless), so she can be pitied, not scorned. After the baby died, her father paid her husband to fuck off and annul the marriage. This was a few years ago, and Peggy has been trying to find the midwife who delivered her stillborn, to talk to her and get a bit of closure.

PSYCH, BABY'S ALIVE! Her father paid the midwife (what must have been an absurd amount of money) to kidnap his grandson, foist him off to another family, and tell Peggy her baby died. The first season ends with her and her mother heading off on an adventure to find and reunite with her boy.

So this plot was very unpopular and got the show a lot of criticism. It was boring, it was a scandal with all the scandal removed, it was a retread of a Downton plot, and it took Peggy away from the actually interesting stuff about New York black high society and black journalism at the turn of the century. So how best to respond to these criticisms in the premiere of Season 2?

PSYCH, BABY'S DEAD AGAIN! We start the season after a time skip, in which time Peggy has managed to track down her three year old son, gotten in contact with his family, and almost reunited with him...only to learn he died of scarlet fever six months ago. The season starts with them having learned this a bit ago and already in mourning, because the show creator refuses to put anything interesting on screen, and by the end of the episode she is determined to leave her parents' home again and basically return to her non-baby Season 1 plot. 

And I just can't get over the fact that they double-killed her baby. I get wanting to write out this stupid plot, but there are ways to do it that don't feel like a shaggy dog story and bury a vibrant character in mourning for the season premiere! 

Andrea and I have been plotting alternatives, and it would have been SO easy: have her meet the kid, realize he's a happy toddler with a loving family, and that she doesn't want to tear him away from that to be a single mother (which a character on Downton did twice with the same baby, so you'd even be attoning for a previous sin!). "Oh my darling son, I am glad to know you, and I will make you proud of your mother's accomplishments as I take the publishing world by storm!" Then you never have to show the kid again, can throw in a line every now and then about her visiting, and she can still do her fun plotline! Boom, fixed it!

It is all just brain-bendingly stupid and I needed to ramble and share the joy. And as a reward for getting to the end, have a ridiculous costume photo of an unrelated character:

[weiwuxianismybae]

wei wuxian isn't sin-free either. that's the point. no one in mdzs is. the purity police mentality is why so many in the fandom turned their backs on wangxian. wei wuxian is not a perfect uwu little angel. he committed more atrocities than jin guangyao

???????????????????????????????

How to say you missed the point without saying you missed the point.

Anyway, sorry, I'll stop joking around. Let's take this bit by bit, shall we?

Not sure what you mean by "pure" and "sin". I don't know enough about Buddhism or Chinese culture in general, so I won't speek much on this matter. (Yet, I'm pretty sure the book wasn't written with Christianity in mind🙃). Anyway, making mistakes doesn't make you "bad". Making mistakes is what makes us human and it doesn't make you morally "grey" or "bad" and especially not when you regret them:

He was only stating a simple fact calmly, but the cultivator felt as if he was scorned, fuming, “What do you think we’re talking about here? How could there be bargaining for debts of blood?”

Wei WuXian, “It’s not that I want to bargain about such a thing, but that I don’t want my charges to be doubled just because of some words from another. I won’t shoulder what I didn’t do.”

ExR ch. 79

Note that he said that he won't shoulder what he didn't do, not that he won't shoulder anything at all.

Finally, Wei WuXian spoke up. He said, “Then what do you want me to do?”

Fang MengChen paused in surprise. Wei WuXian, “Then what do you want? Nothing but my miserable death to soothe your own hatred?” He pointed at Yi WeiChun, who lay passed out among the crowd, “He’s missing a leg, while I was cut into pieces; you lost your parents, while my family had long since been gone. I’m a dog who was chased out of its home. I’ve never even seen the ashes of my parents.”

Wei WuXian, “Or do you hate the Wen Sect’s remnants? The Wen Sect remnants that you speak of already died once, thirteen years ago. And right now, just then, for my sake, for your sake, they died once again. This time, they’ve all become ashes.” He continued, “Let me ask you—just what else do you want me to do?”

[...]

Wei WuXian, “Nobody told you to forgive me. The things I did, not only do you remember them, I remember them too. You won’t forget them, and they’ll stay even longer in my mind!”

ExR ch. 82

Wei Wuxian's goodness shouldn't be debated. All his actions were justified. He was never the initiator. Let me repeat myself: Who attacked whom first? Who massacred Wei Wuxian's home? Who send the Wen remnants, who lived peacefully on a small piece of land that was given to them by the winners, to the work camps where they were tortured?

As for the remnants of the Wen Sect, they were herded into a small corner of Qishan, not even a thousandth the territory it onced owned. They were crammed into the place and struggled to live.

ExR ch. 72

Who ambushed whom on Qiongqi path? Who went on offensive because he grew up with his cousin and didn't like Wei Wuxian anyway? Who promised to let the matter go if Wen Qing and Wen Ning turned themselves over? Who went back on that promise? Who gathered 3000 cultivators to kill 50 innocent people? Who killed those innocents?

"He committed more atrocities than Jin Guangyao"

...

...

I recommend you to read the extra Villainous Friends. It's a real eye-opener.

Just then, two disciples from the Jin Clan of Lanling dragged over a cultivator with disheveled hair.

"Weren't you going to refine a new set of fierce corpses?" Jin Guangyao said. "As it happens, I've brought materials for you."

[...]

A young girl and boy, both trussed with rope, kneeled on the ground and shouted miserably to He Su.

"Ge!"

He Su was stunned. His face blanched white as paper. "Jin Guangyao! What do you mean by this?! You can just kill me. Why implicate my entire clan?!"

[...]

Jin Guangyao shot him a glance, then turned back around and said in an even-tempered tone, "You can't say that. The He Clan of Tingshan used the full force of its power to start an uprising and plot to assassinate Sect Leader Jin. All of you were caught red-handed. How can you call this 'no reason'?"

A number of the captives cried out, "Ge! He's lying! We didn't. We really didn't!"

"What a crock of shit!" He Su spat. "Open your damn eyes and take a good look around! There's a nine-year-old child here, and elders who can't even walk! What uprising could they start?! And why would they assassinate your father out of the blue?!"

[...]

However, no one here would listen to his defense. Sitting before him were two vicious villains who already considered him a dead man and were enjoying the sight of his last-ditch struggle. Jin Guangyao leaned back with a smile and waved.

"Gag him. Go on, gag him."

Wei Wuxian never killed his father, brother, son, wife and then pretended that he had no choice. Wei Wuxian didn't slaughter a whole clan just because they were standing in his way and he saw them as annoyance. Wei Wuxian was never besties with other mass murderers (Xue Yang).

I wanted to argue that the only thing that made Jin Guangyao better than Jin Guangshan was that he had never forced himself on women... but then I remembered how Jin Guangshan died...

SiSi, “The middle-aged man wanted to shout and struggle, but his body was weak. The boy who led us inside opened the door again, grinning as he dragged him onto the bed again and tied him up with a rope, stepping on his head. He told us, carry on, don’t stop even when he’s dead. Have any of us been through such a situation before? We were scared half-dead, but we didn’t dare disobey. We had to continue. At the twelfth or eleventh round, that sister suddenly screamed, saying that he really was dead. I went over and checked. He’d indeed kicked the bucket, but the person behind the curtain said, didn’t you hear me? Don’t stop even when he’s dead!”

ExR ch. 85

Don't spoil Wei Wuxian's good name by comparing him to the likes of Jin Guangyao!

+ bonus:

"You little hooligan," Jin Guangyao said with a laugh. "Wreck stalls if that's what you want. You can burn down the entire street, for all I care, as long as you mind two things—don't wear the Sparks Amidst Snow uniform, and keep your face hidden. Don't let anyone find the culprit and put me on the spot."

Btw, the excerpts from Villainous Friends were taken from Seven Seas translation.