#without chalking it down to a character flaw

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

Also people can be introverts and awkward and come across as boring and those shouldn’t necessarily be seen as character flaws or cause of derision idk

[pomefioredove]

who they fall for, heartslabyul

I did a longer one of these for rook and now I can't get the idea out of my head, so... series! (part 1/8)

summary: soulmates type of post: blurbs characters: deuce, ace, cater, trey, riddle additional info: romantic, not proofread so maybe ooc, gender neutral partner, really just thoughts

𝐃𝐞𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐝𝐞

trope: dorks in love

Deuce ends up with someone who, most of all, challenges him. they put him at ease, and there's a definite shared gentleness between the two, but it's his partner's subtle rebellious streak that wins him over (though they definitely know when to tone it down). puppy love that turns into something deeper. they accept him as he is, flaws and all, and they support him in his growth towards becoming a better person. fiercely loyal. they and Deuce would constantly be fighting to be the "chivalrous" one. taking turns telling the waiter the other asked for no pickles, running to hold doors open, etc. it's cute, but a little competitive, just enough to motivate him.

𝐀𝐜𝐞 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐚

trope: tsundere

his soulmate? someone who can take a joke. no, no, I'm kidding, but they would have a wicked sense of humor, one that compliments his perfectly. and an adorable laugh, of course, snorts and all. someone who can feed his ego without overdoing it, keeping him wrapped around their little finger (trust me, he loves it). a little mutual teasing never hurt anyone, right? at the same time, though, they'd be completely devoted, loyal, and loving, just like he is. he brags about being a ladies man, though, really, he's almost completely closed off when it comes to matters of the heart. it takes a lot of patience (and a lot of putting up with his shenanigans) before those walls start coming down to reveal the romantic hidden behind them.

𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝

trope: slowburn

similar to friends to lovers, but of a different flavor. Cater is subtly flirty with almost everyone, it's the people-pleasing, but a soulmate? yeah, he'll believe it when he sees it! of course, he's completely blind to what he's needed all along being right in front of him. someone who listens to him, who cares deeply about his feelings, who can read his body language and know just what he's thinking. someone he feels comfortable around without feeling the need to hide himself. a bestie, if you will. he's absolutely the first to catch feelings and drives himself mad about it, not daring to make a move out of a fear of vulnerability (or being a weirdo, take your pick) and it devolves into months, years worth of cringe pining. "looking at the pictures they'd taken together and giggling" pining.

𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐲 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫

trope: weirdos in love

thought it was gonna be domestic bliss? nope. I'm saving that one. Trey isn't quite ready to settle down yet, having spent his whole life taking care of others (to the point where he hasn't had a moment to figure out who he is...) and so he's put a hold on the whole "romance" thing. of course, the last thing he was expecting after graduation was to bump into someone that would throw that plan out the window. truly, his soulmate is someone he feels he can be himself with, who gives him the ability to relax and be the one who gets pampered, for once... it's a very equal and loving relationship with a like-minded and responsible person. one who goes along with all his bits, too.

𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

trope: opposites attract

oof the ouch. no, Riddle is not ready for the ups and downs of a relationship, and he knows that. he's always chalked up his disinterest in romance to his studies, and his utter disinterest in taking anyone home to meet his mother's highly specific future-in-law criteria. though, secretly, Riddle has held onto his own little list of "perfect" traits, almost going as far to fantasize about an imaginary partner to keep him company. the person he does end up falling for makes that list null and void. they're daring, adventurous, creative, curious, open to all sorts of nonsensical ideas that challenge all of Riddle's. they represent a sort of freedom that he's never had, and before he can even hate them, he finds himself falling. but someone like that could never tie themselves down to someone like him... right?

[lilyswrittenworks]

XVIII | Breaking Point

Warning(s): Lots of cursing, heavy angst, tension, and crying

Synopsis: Piccolo is struggling to accept his developing feelings towards you and so he does what he knows best; he becomes distant. Hoping that his absence and lack of engagement would deter you. But there is one fatal flaw from this decision: you were a very stubborn person who just wanted to know the truth.

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It had been two weeks since you first noticed it—the shift.

The way Piccolo's demeanor toward you had changed.

At first, you chalked it up to your own overthinking. Maybe he was just tired. Maybe something else was weighing on his mind. But as the days stretched on, it became impossible to ignore.

The warmth he had once shown you—the quiet patience, the silent but steadfast presence by your side—was gone.

Replaced by something cold.

Sharp.

Hostile.

It had started subtly, in the way he avoided looking at you for too long, the way he kept his distance. Then came the clipped responses, the indifference in his tone, and worst of all, the way he spoke to you as if you were nothing more than an obligation.

That realization hit you harder than any physical wound ever could.

You didn't understand.

You had spent three months recovering, leaning on his strength, comforted by the knowledge that he cared. But now? Now it felt like he couldn't get far enough away from you.

You had confronted him again and again, desperate to understand what you had done wrong. Each time, you were met with the same cold dismissal.

But tonight it all came to a boiling point, you were standing in the kitchen, confronting Piccolo once again about why he was acting out of character.

"Don't read into things," he had said. "I was only helping because you were reckless. That's all. Now that you're better, you don't need me."

That had cut deep.

Like a knife twisting in your chest, reopening wounds that had nothing to do with your injuries.

The words slipped out before you could stop them—an angry, wounded snarl as you shouted at him, defending your choices.

"If I hadn't done what I did, my student would've died! You know that!"

For the first time, you saw something flicker across Piccolo's face.

Regret.

And something else—something unreadable.

But you were too hurt to dwell on it. Too furious to try.

A sharp pain shot through your chest, yanking you back to reality. A strangled gasp tore from your lips as your knees nearly buckled. Your hand flew to your chest, pressing against the source of the pain as you braced yourself against the kitchen counter, breathing ragged.

The regret on Piccolo's face vanished instantly.

His entire body went rigid as his eyes locked onto you, widening in alarm. Without hesitation, he stepped toward you.

But before he could reach you—

"No."

Your voice came out in a shaky breath, but there was no mistaking the venom laced in it.

Piccolo halted.

"Don't you dare," you hissed through gritted teeth, lifting your gaze to meet his.

The strands of your hair had fallen over your eyes, but even through them, you could see the way his expression shifted. The way his hands clenched at his sides.

For a brief moment, you saw guilt.

But you didn't care.

Not anymore.

"Don't you dare act like you care all of a sudden."

Your voice was hoarse, laced with exhaustion and something dangerously close to heartbreak. You exhaled sharply through your nose, trying to push past the pain that gripped your chest, but it was becoming impossible. Your heart was hammering—too fast, too erratic—and deep down, you knew this wasn't good. You were still recovering from the operation from three months ago.

There was only so much your heart could take.

"I've been patient with you, Piccolo," you continued, your breaths coming in shorter bursts. "Trying to see past your cold indifference lately, trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, but..."

You trailed off, your throat tightening.

Seeing him look at you with such detachment, feeling the weight of his cold indifference toward you when all you had ever done was care for him—it was too much.

Another sharp wave of pain lanced through your chest. A pained gasp escaped your lips, and before you knew it, your body hunched over, forehead pressing against the cool surface of the kitchen counter.

You barely registered the movement beside you before you felt it.

A hand.

Warm. Solid. Him.

Piccolo's hand rested gently against your back, his touch impossibly careful, as if afraid you might shatter beneath his fingers.

For a split second, you almost gave in.

You almost turned to him, almost let yourself collapse into his arms where you knew you would find comfort.

You wanted to.

But just as quickly as the thought formed, you shoved it down—deep, deep into the pit of your stomach where all your unspoken words already rotted.

His voice came softly. "(Y/n)—"

You didn't let him finish.

With a sharp inhale, you pulled away from his touch like it had burned you, your expression twisted with pain—both physical and emotional. Without another glance, you turned toward the stairs.

"Whatever half-assed apology you have in mind—forget it. I don't want to hear it."

You reached the bottom step, then hesitated. For a moment, silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. Then, slowly, you turned your head just enough to meet his gaze over your shoulder.

"If you really feel sorry," you whispered, voice trembling, "then you'll tell me why you've been acting like a total jackass. But you won't. You never do."

Your throat bobbed as you swallowed down the emotions threatening to claw their way out.

"So... stay here. Watch over me. Then Leave." Your grip on the railing tightened, nails digging into the wood. "I don't care anymore."

With that, you turned your back on him.

You didn't look at him again.

Couldn't.

The weight of sadness crashed into you like a tidal wave, pressing down on your chest until it felt like you might break. Your hand curled into the fabric of your shirt, gripping tightly over your heart as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. You sucked in a slow, shaky breath before forcing your legs to move, each step up the stairs feeling heavier than the last.

Piccolo didn't move.

He simply stood there, watching as you disappeared at the top of the stairwell. A few moments later, he heard it—the faint click of your door closing.

And then the sound that nearly brought him to his knees.

Your muffled sobs.

His chest ached at the sound.

Because he knew.

He knew he was the reason you were crying.

His fists clenched at his sides, his sharp nails biting into his palms until the skin broke. A shadow cast over his eyes, his jaw locked so tightly it felt like it might snap.

A part of him wanted to go to you.

To hold you.

To tell you the truth.

That he was scared. That he felt something for you so strong it terrified him. That he had been pushing you away not because he didn't care—

—but because he cared too much.

But then came the other part of him.

The one that whispered bitterly in the back of his mind, reminding him of what he was.

A monster. A warrior originally born for world domination and destruction. Someone undeserving of the warmth you offered so freely.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

He couldn't allow himself to love you.

And yet...

He already did.

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You let out a quiet sigh, resting your chin in your palm as you stared down at your half-eaten meal. The food, once warm and comforting, had gone cold, much like the atmosphere of your home since Piccolo stopped visiting. It was strange—how quickly you had grown accustomed to his presence, how easily his absence could make your house feel... hollow.

The TV droned on in the background, some late-night talk show playing, but you weren't really paying attention. Your mind kept replaying that moment—the way your voice had risen, frustration bubbling over, the sharp look in Piccolo's eyes before everything went south.

Four days. Four long, quiet days. Piccolo had never gone this long without at least stopping by—checking in on you like he always did. Even when he'd get on your nerves with his blunt remarks or silent observations, he was always there.

Now he wasn't.

You missed him and every time your mind circled back to him, the ache in your chest deepened. The weight of your own harsh words from four days ago hung heavy in the air. You clenched your fist, fingers curling into your palm as if trying to physically hold back the regret gnawing away inside you.

You had been so angry—so hurt—that day. The bitterness of his criticism had felt like betrayal, especially when all you had wanted was to protect your student. You knew Piccolo had only been trying to keep you safe, but his delivery... his coldness... it had cut you deeper than any bullet ever could.

But now?

Now all you could think about was how he had tried to reach out to you afterward. How his hand—so large, so warm—had rested on your back, grounding you for a moment. How his deep voice had softened as he murmured your name, his rare tenderness breaking through the walls he usually kept so firmly in place. And you had shoved him away.

You closed your eyes, setting down your fork before rubbing your temples.

You desperately wanted to hear his voice again, to have him by your side again. You cared for him, a lot more than you expected and the longer you sat there, the more unbearable the silence became. The realization of what he meant to you—what he had always meant to you—was crashing down like a tidal wave, leaving you breathless and exposed.

You stared down at your half-eaten, untouched food with wide eyes.

"Oh my god," you rubbed your hands on your face. "Oh my god..."

You quickly rose from your stool and made your way toward the glass door. Your chest felt tight, your heart beating faster with every second. The weight of everything—your regret, your longing, your sudden realization—pressed against your ribs until it was almost hard to breathe.

You needed to talk to Piccolo. Now.

But where were you going to find him? Fuck. If only you knew how to fly properly you could've found him with ease, but sadly Piccolo only taught you how to hover to try and cover the basics in flying.

You folded your arms, staring through the glass sliding door onto the wooden porch, trying to come up with something. Piccolo didn't own a phone, so you couldn't even call him to begin with. Fucking hell, you couldn't even feel out his energy signature, because, wouldn't you know it? You haven't even mastered it. You felt frustrated by the limited options you had at your disposal.

Your fingers curled into the sleeves of your hoodie, the chill from the glass seeping into your skin. You stepped closer to the door, your breath fogging up the glass slightly as you squinted into the night. The backyard stretched out into the dark horizon, the faint outlines of trees swaying gently under the moonlight.

Then—movement.

At first, you thought you imagined it. But there it was again. A flicker of white through the shadows, disappearing behind the trees.

Your heart leapt into your throat.

It couldn't be... could it?

You pressed your hand against the glass, your eyes locked onto the spot where you'd seen it. The shape shifted again—a familiar billowing cape catching the faint breeze before vanishing behind the thick foliage.

It was him.

You threw open the sliding door, the night air rushing in and biting at your skin. Barefoot, you stepped onto the porch, the wood cold beneath your soles. Your pulse pounded in your ears, your voice catching in your throat as you whispered his name.

"Piccolo.."

Without a second thought, you rushed across the porch, your bare feet hit the wooden steps with a soft thud as you rushed down toward the yard, the grass tickling your ankles as you sprinted towards the tree line. The further you ran, the harder it became to see, the darkness pressing in on you, but you didn't care. You could feel him. You didn't need to know how to sense energies to know that he was here. He was close, you knew it, and nothing would stop you now.

Your breath hitched, and your legs burned from the sudden sprint. But you couldn't stop, not when you were this close.

There, just beyond the moonlight, was his silhouette—tall, unmistakable, and standing still. His back was turned, his arms folded as he looked out toward the horizon, lost in thought. He hadn't even noticed that you were standing just a few feet away from him.

"Piccolo?" You panted, stepping closer, barely aware of the sweat dotting your forehead.

At the sound of your voice, his body stiffened, but he didn't turn. A long, pregnant silence hung between you. He didn't move or speak, and it made the air around you feel heavy—like you were waiting for permission to be heard.

You swallowed, your throat dry, but you wouldn't back down. "I need to talk to you. I... I'm sorry for how I acted. I shouldn't have pushed you away like that."

Still, he remained silent. His broad back was a solid wall in the moonlight. The tightness in your chest threatened to suffocate you, and yet you couldn't stop yourself from taking another step forward. "But I need to know why," you took in a shaky breath, voice trembling with vulnerability. "Why have you been acting so differently? Was it something I said? What did I do?"

You waited, your heart pounding painfully against your ribcage as the silence stretched between you both, dragging on for what felt like an eternity.

He exhaled softly, breaking the stillness, but still didn't face you. There was a long pause before he finally spoke in that low, controlled voice of his.

"None of this is your fault. It never was."

"Then what is the issue, Piccolo? That doesn't excuse how cold and rude you were to me! Do you even care how you made me feel?!"

Piccolo whipped around, his cape billowing dramatically behind him as he faced you, his dark eyes furrowed deeply. The moonlight illuminated the hard lines of his face, casting shadows over the anguish etched into his features. "Do you think I liked hurting you? That was the last thing I wanted to do. All those horrible things I said... it's inexcusable. I regret it. All of it." Piccolo shut his eyes tightly, his hands balling into tight fists at his sides.

Your heart ached at the regret lacing his words.

"Do you even understand why I left?" he asked quietly, his tone distant. You remained silent, giving him the chance to explain himself. "I had to step back, to give you space, and to give myself time to think things through." He opened his eyes once again to meet yours. You looked so vulnerable under the pale moonlight—your shoulder-length hair unkempt, dark circles under your eyes betraying how little sleep you had gotten. Seeing you like this—because of him—broke something deep inside of him.

"You deserve better, (Y/n)." There was a heaviness in his words, like they had been weighing on him just as much as they had been weighing on you. "You don't need someone like me in your life anymore." He muttered, his voice barely above a breath. "I... I acted harsh on purpose to push you away. To protect you from—"

"From what?" you cut him off, your voice trembling. "From you?"

His silence was answer enough.

Your heart twisted painfully.

"That's not true," you whispered, clutching your trembling hands against your chest. "Please... tell me that isn't true."

Piccolo squeezed his eyes shut, his jaw clenching tightly. Your heart dropped, fighting back tears that were building up at the corners of your eyes. "No, you can't. I—I need you in my life, Piccolo! You mean a lot to me... can't you see that? Don't leave me—please, please...."

His guarded features faltered, his brow furrowing deeply. The sound of your voice breaking—begging for him to stay—shattered whatever resolve he had been clinging onto. His eyes shot open as he blurted out, "Stop that, damn it! You're making this much harder than it needs to be."

"Then why... why can't you stay? What are you so afraid of, Piccolo? Why can't you just fucking tell me for once in you goddamn life?!"

He growled lowly, dragging his hand down his face in frustration. "I'm afraid of losing you!"

You froze.

He continued, voice breaking. "You are everything that I never knew I could have. How can I give you the life you deserve when just being affiliated with me is a bigger danger than you could possibly imagine?"

His mind flashed back to all the battles he had fought—the lives lost, the constant threats lurking in the shadows. Even before he met you, the nightmares of Majin Buu's rampage still haunted him—the fact that you were among the countless victims he'd failed to protect sent him over the edge. The threat was gone now, but there would always be another waiting just beyond the horizon. He couldn't drag you into that... not when your life meant more to him than his own.

You didn't deserve to be caught in his mess—all because of his own selfish desire to keep you close.

"Fuck—do you have any idea how terrified I am to know that I'm in love with you?!"

The weight of his confession hung thick in the air, suffocating the space between you both.

You couldn't breathe—wouldn't—as if any sudden movement might shatter whatever fragile moment you had stumbled into. Your heart pounded painfully against your ribs, your mind reeling from the admission you never thought you'd hear from him—Piccolo, the stoic, guarded warrior... in love with you?

Piccolo's sharp features were twisted in conflict, his jaw clenched tightly as if he'd already regretted letting those vulnerable words slip from his lips. His arms hung stiff at his sides, fingers twitching in small, nervous motions. Even with his back partially turned to you, you could see how tense his entire body was—like he was preparing for you to reject him... or worse, pity him.

But how could he not see what he meant to you?

"Piccolo..." you whispered, barely finding your voice. Your heart ached at how hard he was trying to suppress his own emotions—as if believing they were something to be ashamed of.

He squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of his name on your lips, his breathing shallow and uneven. He looked like he was fighting himself—fighting every instinct screaming at him to retreat.

"I never wanted you to know..." he muttered under his breath, as if saying it aloud made him feel even smaller. "It would've been easier if I never—" His voice cracked, forcing him to stop mid-sentence. He dragged his hand down his face, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. "You deserve someone who isn't... me. Someone who can give you a normal life—a safe life."

You felt your heart twist painfully.

God, he didn't even realize what he was doing to you.

"Don't you get it?" Your voice trembled, the frustration and heartbreak bubbling to the surface. "I don't want a normal life... not if it means you're not in it!"

His breath caught.

"I don't care if you're a Namekian... or a warrior... or if the whole damn universe thinks you're dangerous." Your voice broke, tears welling at the corners of your eyes. "All I care about is you. The man who always puts everyone else first. The man who's been silently protecting me from the moment we met without ever asking for anything in return."

Piccolo's eyes finally flicked toward you—sharp dark irises glinting beneath the pale moonlight. His chest rose and fell a little faster now, as if your words were chipping away at the walls he'd built around himself.

"You think you're dangerous to me?" You took a cautious step closer, clutching your trembling hands against your chest. "The only thing you've ever done is make me feel safe."

He froze.

His eyes locked onto yours, wide and disbelieving—like no one had ever dared to say something like that to him before.

"You don't understand," he muttered hoarsely, his voice breaking under the weight of his own self-loathing. "I could hurt you. Just by being around me... you could get killed. Do you know what that would do to me? Do you have any idea how many nights I've stayed awake... picturing what would happen if you got caught in the crossfire just because you were close to me?"

You could see the haunted memories flickering behind his eyes—the countless battles he'd fought, the lives he'd seen ripped away in an instant.

It was tearing him apart.

"You think you're protecting me by leaving?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "All you're doing is breaking my heart."

A pained growl rumbled in the back of his throat, his hands balling into fists at his sides. He looked like he wanted to argue—needed to—but the words wouldn't come out.

Instead, his chest heaved with every unsteady breath—his entire body trembling under the weight of emotions he'd spent years trying to suppress.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and took another step closer—close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his towering frame.

"You're not a monster, Piccolo," you whispered, your voice breaking. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

His entire body flinched—like your words physically hurt him.

For a long, agonizing moment, he couldn't even look at you—his sharp jaw clenched so tightly you thought it might crack.

But then... slowly, his head turned just enough to meet your gaze.

His dark eyes burned with so many emotions at once—fear, anguish, longing.

But underneath all of that...

There was love.

Raw, unfiltered love—so painfully obvious now that he couldn't hide it anymore.

Your heart skipped a beat, tears slipping silently down your cheeks.

"You really don't get it, do you?" you whispered shakily. "You say you're afraid of losing me... but don't you realize? You've already got me. You had me from the very beginning."

Piccolo's breath caught—his eyes flicking between yours like he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing.

"You love me..." you said softly, testing the words on your tongue.

His gaze dropped to the ground, his sharp cheekbones tinged with that faint purple hue once again.

"I don't know how to..." he trailed off, his voice breaking. "...I don't know how to love someone the way you deserve."

Your heart shattered.

Tears welled in your eyes as you reached out—your fingertips brushing tentatively against the back of his clenched fist.

"You already do," you whispered.

Piccolo's shoulders trembled beneath his weighted shoulder-pads.

For a long moment, he didn't move.

But then—so slowly it made your heart ache—his fingers unfurled beneath yours, rough calloused skin brushing against your palm.

Your breath caught.

He was letting you in.

Finally—after all this time—he was letting himself be vulnerable.

You squeezed his hand gently, grounding him to the present.

"I'm not afraid of you, Piccolo," you whispered. "I'm afraid of losing you... of you walking away from something that's right in front of you because you don't think you're worthy of it."

His breath hitched, his eyes squeezing shut like your words physically hurt him.

"I don't deserve you..." he muttered brokenly.

"But you do," you insisted, your voice trembling. "You're so much more than what you think you are... and I love you for every part of it."

His eyes snapped open, wide and vulnerable.

You could see the exact moment his resolve crumbled—the way his chest caved slightly, his breath hitching in a ragged, broken exhale.

Without warning, Piccolo suddenly pulled you into his arms—his massive hands trembling as they gripped your body tightly, like he was terrified you'd disappear if he let go.

Your heart ached at how gentle he was—despite his strength, despite everything he'd tried to convince himself he was.

You buried your face against his abdomen, your tears soaking into the fabric of his gi.

"I'm right here," you whispered against him, your voice breaking. "I'm not going anywhere."

Piccolo's arms tightened around you, his chin pressing against the top of your head, slightly hunched over to keep you as close as he could.

For the first time in his life...

He let himself believe you.

(4,167 words)

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(a/n)

FINALLY. The moment we've all been waiting is hereee!

I was going to submit this post early as a surprise for you lovely reader but uh... the power grid on the entire island went out. 😭 I was so sad because of the timing lol

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Part XVII

You are currently reading Part XVIII

Part XIX

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It Turned into Love Masterlist

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Tag list:

@utakamo

@nerdy-girl-named-pumpkin

@dovah-bee

@thatsbunnysmind

[chaifootsteps]

one of the more troubling things about hazbin’s poor writing is that it implies some really awful things about the morality of sex workers and addicts. Like angel dust’s wiki can talk up and down about his mob past all he wants but Heaven, Charlie, Vaggie, and every other character spends their time addressing his drug issue and trying to get him sober, not having him confront the bad behavior that stems from it. He’s not in hell for being a criminal, he’s in hell for being a drug user, we can infer this bc we are continually told that getting clean is not just essential to his progress, but it’s what’ll fix him and make him a changed man. And in terms of heaven, Lute spells it out during the court scene, a great deal of Heaven believes that “crack whores” aren’t fit to be in heaven but neither Charlie nor the larger narrative challenges the premise of that argument, never suggests that he’s in hell for a different reason, and just. Runs with that insanely flawed and prejudiced logic, instead deciding to ‘fix’ Angel by making him sober and giving him a love interest to romance bc promiscuity is bad I guess. Like that’s implying some really horrible things about addiction and sexuality, and while Angel is clearly suffering from being a drug user and hyper sexuality , those things aren’t inherently wrong and chalking his moral failings up to “he’s a crackhead” is such a spit in the face to anyone who’s suffered from addiction

And don't forget, being sober is apparently so integral to Angel's salvation that Husk -- two episodes after saying he accepted Angel as the coked up "loser" he was -- viciously tore him down for being in the mere vicinity of a party drug without agreeing to take it. A spit in the face is exactly what it is.

[bibibbon]

I've seen a take where you say that Hawks thinks he didn't have a choice and HAD to kill Twice, and you mention in ( ) that he actually DID have a choice and that confuses me.

Hawks gave Twice TWO chances to change and go with Hawks and leave the LOV behind him and change his way of life and when he refused BOTH chances, he posed as a potential (MASSIVE) threat to the hero's, so Hawks had to kill him so he wouldn't risk others lives.

So, with my maybe-not-very-analysed take, why do you think this? Have I missed a crucial part of his character? Did he actually have any other options? And how different would they be then what he ended up doing?

I am assuming you're talking about this paragraph from one of my posts about Hawks👇

Now it is true that Hawk's did indeed give Twice two (possibly 3) chances to back down and surrender. The first time it happens is when Hawk's corners twice, with all the feathers pointing at twice, ready to strike him, saying that he shouldn't resist and come calmly. The second time is when Hawk's explains his reasoning for offering twice this chance, and the 3rd is after Hawk's killed the first set of twice clones and reaches out saying that there's a way forward if he comes calmly and that he would personally help twice start over after he gets punished for his crimes.

However, I still think there's an interesting way in how Hawk's approaches Twice. He doesn't choose to position his feathers far away, but he quite literally corners him, almost trapping Twice in one place and offering him one option which is to surrender himself and come quietly or else. Now, while from an incredibly detached prespective this may seem as a mercy option that Twice should be grateful for I think that there needs to be acknowledgement as to how Hawk's own hpsc teachings and hero experiences have shaped him in approaching a situation like this and before Hawk's offers anything to Twice he feels and acts on the urge to be in control to be above Twice in this conversation to make sure that he has more power. All of this is summed up to Hawk's experiences, and we see how this is a flaw because in reality Hawk's is an incredibly fast man he did not need to corner Twice in such a way and essentially give him one option he could have approached the situation differently (yes it doesn't mean that he would have succeeded but there's still a point to be made in the way Hawk's approached the situation from the beginning)

When horikoshi first introduces Hawk's to us in the series, he makes it a very clear point that Hawk's is fast and that he is a powerful hero.

Hawk's is fast in every sense of the word,he is shown to quickly climb up the ranks at an incredible speed becoming the number 3 hero, he is fast enough to stop a criminal without batting an eye, he is fast enough to evacuate everyone from a falling building and to try and stabilise the building. Hawk's is also quick in being able to mentally recognise what's going on and quickly act on it. With the series reinforcing this message consistently it seems weird for Hawk's to not be fast enough to knock twice out instead going for the kill.

Now you can chalk this up to a writing mistake or an ooc moment, but I personally think there is symbolism in it. Hawk's failure concerning the MVA was foreshadowed the moment he came into play and said "I am too late" this to me shows the small downward spiral that Hawk's is then sent to by the narrative. It's essentially tragic that the fastest hero or man was too late or too slow to stop tragedy from occurring. In other words, Hawk's heavily reminds me of minato namikaze from Naruto.

@doodlegirl1998 even points this out

So, how does this link into Hawk's killing twice, you might ask?

Horikoshi establishing that Hawk's main trait is his speed and agility highlights (to me) the ability that Hawk's had to simply knock Twice out and get him out of the area.

Again, this didn't occur due to the tragedy and reoccurring theme of the fastest hero being too late. Hawk's was too late to apprehend Twice, he was too late in escaping from Dabi's flames. He was too late in many things, and it resulted in horrible consequences.

However, while this string of events is played for the tragic irony, it also highlights just how corrupted Hawk's has become by the hpsc teachings and how he at the end of the day is still a bird trapped in a cage both mentally and physically. This is because you can clearly tell throughout that scene that Hawk's doesn't really want to kill twice. He keeps on bringing the fact that Twice is a good man at heart and that he believes that Twice can be redeemed, but after Twice's rejection, he believes that he must kill him saying that he didn't come this far for mere sentiment to trip him up.

However, even with that being said, when fighting Twice Hawk's doesn't aim to kill him. He could have. He had Twice cornered. He could have killed him in one hit but didn't because he couldn't because mere sentiment was indeed tripping him up and he was so clearly trying to justify his actions, trying to be logical but failing. This is further highlighted when Hawk's ends up saving both himself and Twice from Dabi's flames in chapter 266. Hawk's didn't want to kill Twice but after a string of events, he believed that it was the only way to resort to his hpsc teachings.

Personally, I believe the brief fight between them heavily shows Hawk's internal struggle with his own beliefs, his own desires to save as a hero, and actually help all of that clashing with his hpsc teachings and the belief that killing Twice would be easier and safer.

Hawk's ending up killing Twice narratively shows us the failings of the system and could have been great in showing us Hawk's further questioning the system he feels trapped in and straying fat from it as he does end up acknowledging in the final arc that jin was a good man (I think it's symbolic that he calls him by his citizen name and not villain one) and it could build up to him creating a completely different one but alas that fails due to various reasons which are too long for me to list out.

[h2llish]

vil rambles cuz im still sick

listen, everyone who literally views vil as this arrogant asshole who likes looking at himself in the mirror every morning has got to be some of the most blind idiots i've ever seen. his insecurities have played out right in front of us?? he is literally so insecure it's blaringly obvious???

it pisses me off watching people completely mischaracterize him as some harsh, insincere character who would bully and pick at someone's insecurities like a fucking prick.

those who genuinely see and regard vil properly as the type of person who has so many insecurities and stresses from living as an actor/model/etc, have honestly earned my respect. his character is interesting and having him mischaracterized as less peeves me.

i don't like to compare trauma, even in characters. trauma is different and revealed in every person differently.

and yes, vil has trauma. living life under spotlight and having his entire life on screen for everyone to see, is his trauma. while he may enjoy his line of work, and has a very supportive father in his corner, that does not make it any easier for someone who grew up under expectations and ridicule since the moment he started walking.

vil's insecurities stem from his roles in movies; he's been casted and sought out for the role of a villain even when he only ever wished to play the hero. since he first played the villain role as a child, bullying the hero (neige) he was automatically perceived as a villain outside of the role as well. and while he may not seem all that bothered, i think it does get to him. to constantly be casted as a villain because he "fits that role so well", and then to have people see him as a villain outside of it can be dehumanizing and painful ━ hence, his insecurities.

a lot of people fail to realize that the life of a celebrity isn't all its chalked up to be. they're human too, they have insecurities and flaws, parts of themselves they don't want others to see. and i think vil does a good job at presenting that.

his overblot revealed that sometimes our insecurities build up and spill over and we may do things we regret. in this case, paired with magic, it was an attempt on a rival's life.

unlike leona or maybe azul, he does regret his actions. he admits his wrongs and that he let his insecurities lead him down a path that could've been disastrous had it not been for rook and everyone else.

i understand that his confidence can be misleading; "if he's so insecure why is so confident?" because idiots, a person with insecurities can also have confidence. while vil is insecure about his stand in beauty, he's also confident in his looks. his insecurities about his looks come from his one-sided rivalry with neige. neige receives more compliments and views and offers, so that comes back to vil and he views himself inferior.

a lot of people seem to think he hates neige. but he doesn't, even he has admitted that he's only jealous. he holds a lot of respect for neige. he knows about neige's tough childhood, and he knows how hard he works, but he does not pity him for it all the same. his feelings for neige have only been jealousy brought on by the views of fans and media, and believe it or not, jealousy is not hate.

vil is genuinely a decent person. after his overblot he continues to thank those that helped in stopping him, and then proceeds to take responsibility for being the reason they were all so tired during the competition. he even takes his own money to offer to everyone after he broke his promise to split the earnings when they won. he also isn't upset with rook for voting for the winning team; he respects that he was able to do so without feeling much guilt. (while i still want to fight his ass. fuck you, you damn peacock spitting mf /affectionate). and then proceeds to give his money to the mc so they can fix up the dorm.

i understand his first impression wasn't great. even i thought i'd hate him, but after getting to know him, i saw that my opinion on him was stupid; understandable at first, sure, but false.

he's strict, yeah, but he means well. he just wants everyone to be healthy, and that includes routine and taking care of your body. it may seem a bit obsessive, but it's his way of caring for those around him, even if it isn't how, you like it or how you'd prefer to be cared for.

i think what i like about vil, is that he genuinely tries to make things right. unlike those before him, he wishes to apologize for the trouble he caused and wants to avoid having his jealousy take ahold of him so strongly again.

and addressing those that seem to think he would attack a person's insecurities, you're wrong. i doubt he'd try to hurt a person by pointing out their own insecurities when he himself has insecurities. he knows what it's like to have your insecurities take hold of you and consume your thoughts, why would he do that to another person? if he does find himself saying something that might be an insecurity for another person, i don't think he'd do so on purpose. he probably intended to help, but in the process hurt them. i just don't believe he'd want to hurt someone by rubbing their insecurities in their face.

overall, he's not a bad person or some asshole who would hurt someone on purpose. he's confident but insecure, and he's strict but means well. stop regarding him so wrongly please, it's actually fucking annoying.

[mla0]

i think with me, sometimes the reasons why some people hate a character are why i love them in the first place. i love character arcs and just characters with heavy flaws in general, including characters who genuinely do heinous things while still trying to do their best and having good* intentions. i just find that so compelling and realistic. i think vinny and shaun are both in that category for me, but it certainly doesn't only apply to them; i just think their personalities and plotlines were the most interesting for me.

i liked the plot twist with vinny. loved it, actually. made me like vinny as a character way more than i did when i thought he was just some.... well, everyman. it made me see everymanhybrid so much differently than before, it recontexualized huge moments that happened before that i initially didn't even care about, because we only just learned that those were actually huge character moments and we just didn't know it yet. it added a whole new, flawed layer to the series that i adore. vinny seemed to be such an average, good-guy character who sometimes did stupid shit. then you find out that much of it wasn't accidental at all, but instead a desperate attempt to save himself and whoever else he was capable of saving, at the cost of others, and his own dignity. the lengths he went were extreme and unjustifiable to many, but that's what i liked. it showed that vinny is a human, for better and for worse. what lengths would you go to in order to survive?

i like that shaun can be a huge dick sometimes- she can be intentionally blind to the bigger situation, in denial to protect herself from something terrifying even though it hurt her family, and you can see her struggle with that. doing something like that hurts and feels terrible, but is still something she chose because she was afraid. she sided with a close friend over her family because of the comfort of familiarity, of what "makes sense." it's coping with something that is fundamentally terrifying to come to terms with. it's fucked up in the viewers eyes, but to someone in that situation you can understand why it happened. you can hate it, but still see yourself in it. then you also see moments of kindness, including between the two siblings, and you get a more full picture of her as a whole. she's chalk full of conflicting messages and i adore that. she cut off michael in one of the last few videos, but then refused to give up his location even when facing death. she gets angry, she fucks up, but she's still unwilling to doom those she seemed to hate even when it could've saved her life, even when being lied to about all that happened. getting the mix of her flaws and virtues (along with the same for the other characters) was probably my favorite part of this series.

anyways, you see multiple facets of their characters, some loveable and some hateable, but even when they do horrible things, it only makes me find them more interesting. it's not quite like a villain in how they're "evil" or have bad intentions despite sometimes being complex themselves (HABIT, for example), because they're regular people, but you watch them fuck up over and over again while still understanding where they're coming from, and recognizing that many would fall into the same trap, because nobody is without their vices, their selfishness, and their blind-spots. so many people, including ones who think they'd be better in that situation, wouldn't be if put to the test. they'd fuck up, they'd do awful things either to save themselves or for their perception of the greater good, and i love that. i like to see how people can break down and degrade in such horrible situations, while their humanity and ultimate "goodness" still exists at the same time, creating a conflict between how they're still a good person at heart but willing to do bad things if they feel it's justified. it gives a glimpse into your average person's breaking point and general morality, which is rarely strictly good or justifiable, nor purely evil or irredeemable.

also, it opens the doors for me to write compelling redemption arcs, which i've also always loved. i love seeing bad people get better, and good people get worse. like i said before, what would you be willing to do to keep yourself alive?

[vanderwoodlings]

Thinking about her (the way Jenny and Serena then Vanessa and Serena then Jenny and Vanessa (well basically in 4x10) were destroyed) but also how the writers never really let the female characters have any substancial stable friendship with each other by the end (with the exception of Blair and Serena ofc…which are honestly stuck in a tragedy where they’re never allowed to be at peace but never able to properly or address any of the conflict in a meaningful way tbh but that’s another post) and yeah that can just be chalked down to the writers suck…but on another superficial level the writers love ruining female friendships over boys but even deeper into that…the women are literally not allowed to exist outside of men (something linking back to blair and chuck ig)

Fuck. Yeah. Literally

Like… I’ve never read the books in part due to some lovely content warnings telling me exactly how flawed they are, but the thing everyone knows is the ultimate resolution of the love triangle being “oh wait. Fuck the boy. We’re best friends and we pick that” for Blair and Serena. I can’t say the adaptation failed the books without a fuller picture I’m never gonna get, but I can say they failed that

And in the beginning I think the Serena-Vanessa “hm we’ll feel each other out a little in our wary gay guitar hero ad” is reasonable (and even that is centered around the idea of both of them as relational just in respect to Dan). But it all very much transitions into a place of, like… cruelty. Especially for Vanessa, who, more than anyone, got hit by the villainization stick on her way out the door (I wonder why, they said sarcastically)

And I mean that’s one of the big ideas you get whenever you talk about what the patriarchy is and does in any kind of formal way, right? That it reduces women into relational beings? So of course by the end Blair and Serena are both identified by the guy they’re marrying and that’s what makes them who they are, and of course Jenny and Vanessa are both pretty much gone from the narrative, and of course the idea of a genuine friendship where they have something to hold on to other than just the idea that they’re friends is completely gone from the room

[see-arcane]

The POTO (book) comparison makes me realize that Thomas is more Viscount Raoul de Chagny but middle-class than he is Harker. Raoul doesn't believe in the supernatural and so he refuses to listen to Christine when she tells him she's being haunted, he dismisses her fears ("Christine, Christine, you really need to stop dreaming."), telling her again and again that "it's all in your head", saying that she's crazy, making her feel even more isolated and scared, and he takes actions about her without consulting her and then underestimates Erik.

(Mind you, Thomas isn't as flawed as book Raoul, who also at times considers Christine as too beneath him, a "fairy of the North" who is "trifling" with him while she's sleeping with her secret lover, verbally abuses her when she tries to protect him from The Red Death with "No, no, you have driven me mad! When I think that I had only one object in life: to give my name to an opera wench!" "Raoul! ... How can you?" "I shall die of shame!", or later as they're engaged he accuses her of enjoying being kidnapped by Erik and that it gives her a thrill, all because she said she doesn't hate him. But yeah if in the remake they want to lean in his Raoul aspects they might make their relationship more bitter than in the og.)

lol all that makes me realize I wish for a POTO movie that deals with their relationship flaws more than the resolution we get in the book where they don't even talk to each other in the climax

I hesitate to paste any version of Raoul over any version of Thomas, even Bobby Egg's, if only because Thomas is the first to very personally, very tangibly interact with Count Orlok in the story. Ellen's psychic dream visions are one thing--Thomas getting a firsthand chomping is another. There's no supernatural-proofing strong enough to write that undead hickey business off

At best, Original Flavor Thomas from 1922 could be chalked up as having post-Orlok defense-denial. Orlok has been across the street this whole time, likely seeing and being seen by Thomas the whole time. It's only when Ellen points him out and says she's been seeing the Count staring every night that Thomas cracks and realizes he isn't mad or hallucinating, and that everything he experienced/is experiencing is real. Cue him breaking down in tears on the bed.

But also also, condolences and agreement with the POTO business. I haven't picked the book up in a while so I can't recall all the details of the characters, but on principle I have to take your word that the story needs some proper adaptational love and examination same as the rest of the classic lit horror crowd

[sea-salted-wolverine]

The House of Usher and the cardinal virtues

I thought to myself it's no good to whine about slotting characters into boring reductive categories without a good rebutal, so here's a dose of slightly more interesting archetypes.

Prospero reflects the cardinal virtue of Diligence and its mirror the sin of Sloth ("But he has an orgy so it has to be lust," by god you're so boring) He is the only Usher who tries to make anything of value. When Camille goes on her little spiel about how Ushers don't make stuff, she's not wrong. Perry got pretty ruthlessly shot down when he was presenting his ideas for trying to make value and start a night club chain, rather than just taking credit for someone else's work like all of his siblings and his dad. But he was at least trying. His drive to prove himself and gain respect is how he gets himself into the whole mess. However, it is the act of not doing his due diligence that kills him.

Camille has an interesting one because while breaking into a lab facility to expose mistreatment of animals would seem like the cardinal virtue of kindness, she's only there to get one over on her sister. The inverse of Kindness is Envy, and for as important as her role is as the family spin doctor, Camille is valued the least. Everyone suspects Perry when they hear about an informant, but that's because he's an idiot baby. Victurine is useful with her heart mesh implant, Napoleon took the role of the "chill fun sibling", and the other two are original Ushers, so Camille is left as the unfavored child.

Napoleon tried to buy his way out of his problem with Charity. He could have come home with a different cat entirely and told his boyfriend he was looking in shelters for Pluto and accidentally fell in love. Name it Mars, let the boyfriend chalk it up to a weird grief response. Bummer Pluto never came home. Verna would have had him trip over the thing on the stairs in the middle of the night and that would have been that. Instead, everything was transactional as he maximized what he could get out of his relationships for the least amount of effort. The boyfriend can live with him, the boyfriends cat can move in too, but as soon as that becomes even the slightest bit more effort (like when boyfriend wants to meet the family, or curb the drug use, or the cat brings home a dead thing) Napoleon wants it gone from his life.

Victurine likewise could have had a painless clean death had she mustered up the Humility to say that the device didn't work. Her demise, unlike her younger siblings, was a compilation of smaller shitty decisions and white lies. She could even recognize that each choice was morally wrong, but it was little choices that were easier to brush off. A dead monkey, a foraged signature, a rightfully concerned patient reassured with platitudes. Even before she was scrubbing blood off the floor to Bonnie Tyler, her inability to admit her choices were flawed was getting her in trouble.

Tamralane with her perfectly manicured curated life, is the one to take Temperance to its furthest extreme. I think it was Atwood who wrote about women and the internal voyeur to preform for, but I'm not going to Google it for a post about horror characters losing their minds and dying horribly. She lives under a personal panopticon of her own expectations and can never allow herself to experience her own life lest she fall short. Her wealth rather than mitigating this exacerbates the issue, giving her access to any and every distance she could possibly want. Death by mirrors isn't so much her going insane as it is the culmination of the life shes built for herself.

(Plus, I know her lonely evening was meant to be ~spooky~ but babe, that is literally just ADHD. Can't remember where you put the thing? Can't remember doing the thing? CAN'T SLEEP?! DOES EVERYONE HATE YOU AND THINK YOU'RE AN INSANE BITCH FOR PERFECTLY VALID REASONS?! Looks like Adderall for you).

Fraudrick. You dickwad. No Patience to allow your very injured and traumatized wife explain herself. The inverse of Patience is Wrath. Demonstrated that one in spades. I'm on Verna's side on this one. Pliers, really?

(His wife's name is fucking Mori. As in momento mori.)

Which leaves Madeline and Rodrick. What's a Gothic horror story without some really fucking weird and unsettling sibling dynamic? Dull, that's what. Anyway, never letting anything touch them or impede them in their lust for power and wealth offers a strange sort of Chastity. There's no love, not for the kids or Annabelle Lee that could touch them, no moral they wouldn't overturn, no value they wouldn't abandon. Madeline values her freedom above all else but she spent her life bound to her brother. They wouldn't even spare each other in ruthless pursuit of just a little more power.

So yeah, bummer for August Dupain that he wound up against the most supernaturally fucked up family that ever lived.

[theredhairedmonkey]

Posting my reply to @kuno-chan’s post separately here as I’m not going to reblog slander disparaging me or others.

Also, since these are just all the same talking points lifted from elsewhere in the fandom, there’s no need to go line by line. Nevertheless, I’ve given this plenty of time and thought, and will break my take down into four parts:

Callum and Rayla

No, Callum is not obsessed with Rayla. Sorry, but one brief evening of him mourning the anniversary of Rayla leaving isn’t a constant obsession lol. This scene shows he still has feelings for her, but it does not constitute a constant preoccupation. For the vast majority of time in s4 before she returned, he hardly acknowledged her. Even when she returned and left again in 4x03, he did not have a any reaction at all, and went along with his day.

Callum is a deeply caring person who would do anything for those he loves, including Ezran, Soren, and Amaya (Yes, even Soren, as Callum was about to fight Elmer to defend him despite being injured himself). This fierce loyalty is part of his nature, not evidence of obsession over one person. His willingness to fight for others can be both a strength and a flaw at times.

At the same time, as Finnegrin points out to Callum in 5x08, his friends are also willing to do anything for him too. It’s a two-way street.

Meanwhile, Rayla seems more singularly focused on Callum, calling him the "best thing I ever had" and clearly pining for him constantly. Her moral compass now revolves around Callum and protecting Callum specifically. So between the two, she displays more obsessive tendencies regarding their relationship. To the point that I have mentioned before it’s a little disconcerting that most of her character arc in s4 seems to just be about getting back together with him.

Speaking of which, even after they reconcile, the lead writer dropped the bombshell that they’re actually not currently dating:

Which really begs the question, if Rayla is so eager to resume their relationship, why haven’t they? If Callum is so obsessed with her, why hasn’t he taken her back yet?

This doesn’t mean Callum doesn’t care deeply about her. He absolutely does. But if Callum were truly obsessed, he likely would have immediately resumed the relationship. The fact that he has not suggests he has set healthy boundaries and is not driven by obsession.

But that’s just the relationship angle. There’s also the issue with assigning Rayla’s traits (flaws specifically) to Callum. Callum is indeed loyal, and to his detriment sometimes, but loyalty and devotion aren’t the main driver for his actions. They’re Rayla’s. You don’t even have to take my word for it, it’s spelled out in Tales of Xadia:

Callum’s most important value is Freedom/Liberty, once again spelled out in Tales of Xadia:

And this distinction is crucial, as it’s the crux of his storyline in s5: is he really free to choose not to do dark magic (or free to make any choice for that matter), and what does it mean to have unlimited potential, and whether that unlimited potential can lead to a very dark place. Once again, flat out stated by the lead writer of the show:

Notice how Devon explained Callum’s motivation without ever mentioning “Rayla”?

Chalking up his motivation to just an obsession for Rayla that he’ll always have, that he’s just That Way and nothing else, deprives him of this arc and reduces him to a two dimensional sidepiece for Rayla. It strips him of the complexity of his season 5 arc, where he struggles with the meaning of unlimited potential and the darkness that could engender. His inner conflicts go far beyond his feelings for Rayla. Suggesting otherwise diminishes his character development, and it's beyond me why anyone would want that.

Callum and Morality

As I’ve said before, I enjoy Callum’s dark side immensely. I really do. But the point of the Ocean Arcanum, as I've mentioned before, is that everyone has a dark side:

Thus, Callum isn’t any more particularly morally dubious than anyone else. Sorry, but a single use of dark magic, with already-dead ingredients, in an extremely controlled setting for the very narrow purpose of setting himself free, doesn’t make Callum morally dubious. And I’m sure the average person could see the VAST chasm of difference between using One Bad Spell and dooming the world for Rayla’s sake that the story has no chance of bridging in just two seasons.

He refrained from using the snake chain spell offensively against people, as we've seen it used before (in 2x03). It was narrowly employed just to free himself, after which he immediately returned to primal magic. And in that sense, I haven’t seen a single person argue this one act was unjustifiable.

And, as he gives Finnegrin the wrong list of ingredients, that’s basically the only real act of moral ambiguity Callum has displayed. Because for everything else, you have to hold Callum to a unique (and impossible) standard that applies to no one else. For instance, it's not considered morally dubious when Amaya punched Karim, yet Callum punching Finnegrin supposedly is? Callum is dubious for forgiving Rayla of her crimes (in a show that’s centered on forgiveness and trust as sources of true strength), yet Rayla isn’t dubious for actually committing those crimes? Like, Rayla actually lies, steals, and abandons her friends, yet Callum is viewed as more dubious simply for forgiving her?

Seriously, why am I supposed to think Callum is dubious for saving his friend at the cost of a snake’s tail, yet Rayla is merely “complex” for what she's done?

To be clear, while Rayla has certainly done morally questionable things, that does not make her a bad person or even a morally dubious person overall. But the same must also apply to Callum - his singular use of dark magic for escape does not negate his generally good and principled nature. Very few people would consider his actions in that scene truly unjustifiable.

Callum and Viren

As I’ve said before here, Callum and Viren are indeed foils, and perhaps the most important foil relationship in the series. But the point of foil characters is showing each other’s opposing traits:

And yea, it should be pretty obvious that Callum and Viren are dramatically different from one another. Callum protects those close to him and tries to do the right thing, while Viren seeks to amass as much power for himself as he can.

This is even clear from their parallel shots that Viren and Callum are extremely different, for good and bad reasons. When opening the door to greet the guard, Viren appears self-important while Callum seems nice and humble. When he confronts Soren on the battlements, Callum is aggressive and angry where Viren was calm and calculated. These are not the same person.

That doesn’t mean Viren and Callum are opposites in every way; some minor similarities are there to humanize Viren, not equate him with Callum. For instance, the moment he parallels Callum and the group’s “I’d do anything for you” was to show that Viren isn’t just a power hungry tyrant but also a devoted and desperate father. However the fact that this is a sympathetic moment undercuts the supposed dubiousness of Callum.

Viren's devotion to his children parallels Callum's loyalty to his friends, making Viren sympathetic rather than wholly evil. But this does not make Callum dubious by association - if anything, it suggests Viren has glimmers of goodness akin to Callum's steadfast decency. If Viren is portrayed as good to the extent that he’s similar to Callum, what does that say about Callum himself?

So while they have a couple superficial similarities, their core character traits and motivations remain opposites. It is unreasonable to equate them based on scant common ground when their differences are so pronounced. If parallels to Callum humanize Viren, that reflects well on Callum, not poorly.

It’s also pretty telling that the same people downplay Callum's explicit and canonical similarities to the moral exemplar Amaya, while overstating negligible common ground with the villainous Viren...

Fandom Toxicity:

While I can be blunt or harsh about takes I disagree with or think are poorly thought out, I never attack the people holdings those views or suggest that they’re terrible people. I would never, for instance, suggest that people who don’t subscribe to my view of Callum to be incels, or who don’t subscribe to my view of Rayla to be mysoginists, or who don’t subscribe to my view of Ezran to be racists.

It’s not just toxic and offensive behavior, but it’s also inconsistent. When you ask “why is it so bad that some people believe Callum is dubious,” it kinda falls flat when you turn around and call people "incels" for having a different take on Callum.

I’m not going to comment much more on this as I think it speaks for itself, but I also deal with enough bullying and harassment as it is, so this will probably be it for me. I see no reason to continue when you are arguing with such bad faith.

Postscript

The argument here is basically “since Callum was willing to squish a snake’s tail and risk his life for Rayla, then it’s reasonable he’d be willing to risk the entire world for her.” I’m sorry, but I’m of the opinion that this doesn’t follow and is kinda far fetched. That isn’t a personal attack, just my personal take.

It’s fine to want Callum to be morally dubious. You’d be pushing an open door with me if you think it would be cool headcanon. Completely unsubstantiated by canon, but still cool.

But for whatever reason, the favor is not returned. It should be fine to think Callum has a moral code, that he has a life outside of Rayla, and that he’ll probably rise above his weaknesses and flaws by the end of the saga. Yet the namecalling and mudslinging that this is responded with is just WILD.

I don’t deal well with insults, or namecalling, or the insinuation that I am in denial subconsciously, or I don’t really mean it when I discuss Callum’s dark side. Nor will I entertain it. This type of bad faith dealing barely deserved a response, much less several paragraphs worth, but now that this is all on a page, I’m going to do both of us a favor and say that we’re done.

[buckybarnesss]

I think one of the best things later seasons did was force Scott to become more mature than the kid he was in s1 and s2. For example, Liam.

Yes, he's an OBVIOUS parallel to being bitten without consent, and his fear of turning into a monster is even bigger than Scott's sometimes, but Scott now an alphaz KNOWS how to deal with it, and how to support him.

Mellowing Derek down and making him more of a team player concerned about the kids FIRST was also a good move.

this ask is so topical. forgive my star wars comparisons but i've been watching ahsoka.

i often consider the derek --> scott --> liam storyline to be comparable to that of a master and padawan relationship in a lot of ways. all their knowledge becomes your knowledge. the teacher's failures are the student's lessons.

i'm not the biggest fan of the last jedi but there are some really great moments especially the scene between luke and yoda.

"the greatest teacher failure is" and "we are what they grow beyond" applies heavily to the story of derek hale, scott mccall and liam dunbar.

the show even places a lampshade on this kind of connection early on when stiles makes the yoda joke in heart monitor.

all throughout season 1 derek is desperately trying to protect scott to varying levels of success. derek doesn't want scott to become him but derek is also clouded by anger and self-hatred at his younger self for his perceived failures and sins. scott despite his huge, glaring issues with male authority figures does learn from derek but it takes him a while to recognize that. derek is a convenient target for scott's anger at what happened to him.

their fear, their anger, their resentments are what they have to grow beyond with each other and that doesn't happen till around season 3.

season 3 even shines a spotlight on how young derek was a lot like scott.

visionary is one of the most important episodes of the entire series and does a lot of heavy lifting for the lore of the universe, the narrative of the season, the backstory of the hales, the relationships between characters -- like it's a juicy episode if only the fandom stopped taking peter and gerard's words as unadulterated truth.

it also gives us the most obvious parallel between derek and scott. i think it's pretty obvious they wrote the paige storyline knowing allison's fate. they wanted this parallel on purpose.

paige is bit without her consent and derek has to mercy kill her to spare her the slow and painful death the rejection of the bite is putting her through. derek did not do anything bad here. this was an act of compassion but it deeply traumatized and hurt derek.

while i do not believe derek's eyes changed color due to any sort of killing an innocent nonsense as peter suggests symbolically derek's innocence died with paige. it left a physical mark on him. she is there every time he shows his eyes. he carries her with him.

allison in contrast to paige has agency in her choice. she willingly goes to save lydia and even ignores lydia's warning. she chooses to save isaac which leaves her open to being stabbed.

allison does not suffer a slow, painful death like paige. scott holds her in comfort and hears her last words.

allison's body wasn't removed and abandoned to be chalked up to an animal attack. scott gets held by his mother, isaac is taken in by chris whereas derek was left alone in the cellar and left to flounder in grief ripe for the picking by kate argent.

so much of derek and scott's relationship is about reflection. they see each other like one only sees their flaws in a mirror. it's why their goodbye in smoke and mirrors is so important. it's acceptance, it's thank you, it's i'm sorry and it's goodbye and good luck.

scott and stiles are a better version of derek and peter. they are less toxic but they have their issues. scott and stiles have a hard time with communication but there's co-dependency.

this brings us to liam dunbar. liam is a precious nugget but liam has derek's anger issues and scott's fear of becoming a monster.

if stiles and scott are a better version of derek and peter than liam and mason are a better version of all them.

it is liam who is able to overcome derek and scott's failures.

liam is able to reconcile with theo.

liam makes the effort to make peace with corey.

liam doesn't lose his first love.

liam overcomes derek and scott's failures and learns lessons from their mistakes.

with liam there's a lot of reprised beats that show how far these characters have come. teen wolf subscribes to george lucas's maxmum:

scott bites liam without his consent but scott doesn't leave him like peter did him. scott tries to support him through the transformation even going as far as to try the whole "the bite is a gift" and "we're brothers now" on for size.

argent comes not to harm them but he saves them.

liam is the best of scott and derek.

derek even gets to gloat a little and have his obi-wan watching anakin deal with ahsoka moment

he is delighted.

we rightfully rip into teen wolf for it's failures but one thing about the show that i think it did fairly well was demonstrate how the entire narrative revolves around generational trauma.

the derek, scott and liam relationship is an excellent example of it.

people say that scott doesn't grow as a character which is a lie. you don't have to like the trajectory of his character arc but he does have one. the show is about him growing up. it's about these kids dealing with the grief and trauma of their lives including that of growing up.

derek was stuck in his grief and anger for a long time. he had lost so much. derek's storyline i think isn't so much a growing up arc but rather one of choosing to live not just survive. scott forced him to confront the anger he carried at his younger self. to realize he was just a child and no one protected him.

derek had a choice.

derek is also a product of peter's lessons and teachings. i think he grapples with some of this in s2 where we see derek in his quote villainy era unquote.

instead derek chose to be a protector and he evolves. he is not peter. he is not kate. derek is not a monster others wanted him to become.

instead he inherits the gift of his mother and sister becoming more at peace with himself.

he is the person that paige loved and accepted. he is deserving of stiles's loyalty and affection.

but he can scare some kids on halloween as a treat.

[kindheart525]

Which characters in the Thirdverse are neurodivergent?

I’m neurotypical so I consulted some of my neurodivergent friends on which characters spoke to them as such to answer this question! Many of my neurodivergent characters thus far have become so kind of on accident as I unintentionally wrote them with a lot of traits that end up really fitting a description of autism or some other diagnosis /pos

Based on this feedback, I’ve decided Celestial Blessing is neurodivergent because of their strong tendency to not read a room and offer unsolicited advice without immediately realizing it’s not wanted or helpful. Tbh I was kind of worried about establishing them as such because, well, they’re kind of a dick, and I didn’t want to be feeding into bad representation with a “mean” autistic character. But it would be just as problematic to create autistic characters who can do no wrong, and CB’s flaws don’t mean they’re a bad person. They’re just a flawed individual who happens to be neurodivergent.

Sunny Sweet Dreams definitely has some form of severe anxiety, with how desperate she is to please others and how utterly crushed she becomes when she fails to live up to that standard. What would be a small shortcoming to anyone else feels like the end of the world to her. From what I’ve read about anxiety, a number of people who have it have described feeling similarly.

Galatea Candyheart is another who I’ve always interpreted as neurodivergent. She can’t really tell the difference between a real friend and somepony who just wants to befriend her for her status, and while this can be chalked up to her being young and spoiled, it could also be a sign of autism. Without spoiling too much, it also makes sense with my future plans of how she responds to changes in her social life. I’ve also headcanoned Pinkie as autistic for awhile so it makes sense that it would be passed down!

[vvatchword]

I'm Gonna Die Mad about It

So: I finished Stephen King's It.

This book was nearly "perfect" with a capital "P." So fucking close!! I cannot begin to explain to you how pretty the prose was, how well-written and unique the book is on a technical level, how neatly the research and symbolism and theming all fit, the Grade-A characterization and setting.

Just one element holds this book back: his treatment of women is fucking dire. Just the worst thing you've ever seen. If he were a shitty writer, you could just chalk it up to him being shitty, but--like I've said in a previous post--his second-rate treatment is obvious precisely because of his god-tier skill.

Spoilers follow.

Women Are Cardstock

I have been reading this book in chunks over the past six months to a year--I don't even remember when I started, now--and for a while I took my time because I enjoyed it so damn much. On two occasions, I had to put it down for a few weeks because I got so fucking mad. Beverly and Audra are treated like sexual objects over and over and over, which is a big deal because Beverly is our major female character and Audra is as close as we get to a second.

Oh, actually: there's another major female character. You just didn't realize it. The monster It was female, and part of the story involves the main characters curb-stomping her eggs before they can hatch and escape.

There's nothing wrong with It being female. In fact, thematically speaking, this fits. There's just one problem, and it demands just a little explanation: you know how most Stephen King stories have two-dimensional characters, usually in villain roles? They're just nasty for the sake of being nasty, and they do horrible over-the-top things to other people, and we get to clap when they die in horrible ways. Some good examples would be Henry Bowers and some of his friends.

Well, King doesn't do this to just any character. Most of his characters are well-rounded, and even minor characters feel like someone you might meet on the street. Frankly, I enjoy his villains. It is definitely an acknowledgment that every now and then you get an awful human being, and it's enjoyable from an entertainment standpoint.

In a story that is absolutely filled to the brim with supporting characters, most are male, all with a variety of roles, jobs, personalities, and so on. But absolutely every single female character is reducible to a two-note role. Beverly and Audra are two-note good because they're sexually available and pretty; Mrs. Kaspbrak is two-note bad because of her comical ugliness (read: you don't want to fuck her) and behavior and is as close as we get to a fourth major female character. The other reoccuring female characters are so minor that they are essentially two-note themselves. Women fill very limited roles, perform very limited tasks, and are mostly notable in stereotypical ways--Mother, Grandparent, Wife, Nurse, Teacher, Clerk, Waitress, Sexual Assault Victim--all the way up to the monster, who is Itself a two-note Evil.

Looking in the Mirror

Sometimes, when a book has an obvious flaw, it's just a small comment on the author, and you can go on. It's not really worth talking about because the Yikes isn't always foundational. But Its sexism is astoundingly foundational. It's downright thematic. Women are represented as wellsprings and sexual, almost magical in Bev's case. Don't do that, jesus christ. A "good" stereotype is just as bad as a bad one. You shouldn't reduce Native people to "noble savages," you shouldn't reduce Chinese people to "always savants," you don't do "magical heart of the family" women. Part of equity is recognizing that people can be bad and complicated. ALL people.

A good example would be the underage sex scene. Now, it wasn't as bad as I expected it to be--only King could have fucking pulled this off without making me throw the book across the room--but I am also going to say: the reason he wrote it was extremely suspect. See, it was clear he had a hard-on for Beverly as a character--constantly noting her sexuality both as an adult and as a prepubescent, which went to skin-crawling levels--and he wanted her to be fucked. Oh, god, he needed her fucked so so bad.

Now, the ending of the childhood arc could have ended with the children cutting their palms and holding hands. This would have satisfied his need for a symbolic illustration of the Circle, the joining of the wheel, the coupling of the links, and, I guess, the exchange of fluids. But, true to form, he wanted something with a bit more pizzazz--most specifically, to show the death of childhood. Now, I'm not sure how else to do it--and it's certainly possible that sex could have played a role--but he did NOT need Bev to fuck everybody. It was transparently clear that he wanted everybody to fuck her for other reasons, and I must stress: she was a fucking child, and would be one for some time afterward.

I feel like I could go on for about ten paragraphs about the meta of a book--why authors choose the characters, subjects, problems, symbols, and contexts that they do--and when those choices become transparent and reveal the magician behind the curtain. See, there are moments where It becomes more about the author than the story being told. That's the gross factor, not the fact that underage sex occurs. It doesn't mean that authors can't write about underage sex or unfaithful spouses or kids being motherfuckers or use those elements symbolically. I mean, those things absolutely happen, and harsh truths are some of King's calling cards, and I am grateful to him for that. What is gross is an adult getting a hard-on for a baby and wanting that baby to get fucked.

Why Fucking?

As we all know, fucking is not in and of itself a sign of childhood's end. Why couldn't Bev's period be just as symbolic, for example? Well, we can't use that, because boys don't have periods, so how else do we show that everyone has stepped up out of their old roles into new ones, preferably simultaneously and directly after their first encounter with It?

I'd argue that the act of leaving childhood is a number of life experiences that put the Fear of God into you, and that you really only hit adulthood sometime in your 30s, and some people never hit it at all--due to anything from limitations of intellect and dogma to the cushion of wealth. I'd argue that trying to illustrate it by sex is extremely simplistic and even a bit insulting. I mean, you've never seen dumbass teens flying after that forbidden fruit? Do you ever think, "Yeah, that sure isn't a child! That highly unstable horny motherfucker right over there."

First of all: King used this as a way to show the kids stepping over the boundary from childhood to teenhood. To which I say, as a lifelong asexual: lol. But I guess that's 80s America for you. Sex was a bigger deal back then.

Secondly, he used this to show the Losers as binding to each other--joining the circle, in essence. Okay, then why didn't all of the characters fuck each other regardless of sex? This would have been as equally symbolic of the joining, if not MORE so, because the Losers' linkage should have been about the union of EVERY MEMBER, not of everyone unifying to fuck the same person. Why was Beverly's fuckhole more sanctified than, say, Bill's? Or P in V more noble than a handjob?

Here's where we see that double standard in action: Beverly was an object to be fucked and romantically desired, but the male characters were fully-fledged beings whose sexuality was one part of several parts. She was only there to fulfill them. They were not inherently sexually desirable--only she was. They are certainly spoken of sexually in the book, but these descriptions tend to be obvious, clinical signs of puberty for the most part. They're treated respectfully, in short.

(Notable, too, that Mike Hanlon and Stan Uris--as the other token minorities in the group--get more explanations of and respect for their backgrounds than Bev does. If you don't think I'm taking this lesson to heart...)

Thirdly, it's a sign of how 80s-era King saw sex and women: as symbols of life, with the act of procreation in the face of death and destruction. That's not necessarily incorrect, but it can be taken to a regressive place, and he went there. I'm just gonna say that the death of the only obvious gay character in the book becomes a little more interesting with this reveal.

This also makes It more interesting as a character: It reproduces asexually. I suppose it is also possible that it can't create anything of its own--perhaps It consumes children to create its own? Regardless, this implies that the act of fucking itself is something more than the act. Now, by the end of the book, King defines the true life drive as "desire"... not sure I followed him there, but then again I did read the book over an enormous period of time and probably missed a lot of connecting tissue. I'll have to come back to this.

I'm Coming Back to This

As mad as Its stances on sexuality and women made me... this book is incredibly fucking good. I already want to read it again. King is a master of the craft. Not many people can do this shit. The very act of intertwining the childhood parts with the adult part, which could have been clumsy or terrible in anyone else's hands, works perfectly here. His prose is beautiful and there are lots of wonderful lines. He fully develops every character and setting. I want my own copy to scribble in.

My favorite part was when King brought each adult characters' fears to life. Up to this point, I may have been a little, uh... well, I may have laughed a few times. King has this one stylistic fetish where he gets gratuitously gross and there's a point where it's not scary, it's just kinda stupid. It's the equivalent of an 8-year-old boy with his sleeves folded over his hands coming up to you and slapping a frog into your open hand. Like, yep, honey, that's a frog. Put it back.

So while there were a couple of monsters that definitely gave me chills, for the most part I was like, "Ohhhh are there worms in his mouth now, Stephen? Are you gonna talk about exposed intestines now, Stephen? Is the head leaning halfway off the neck with an eyeball hanging out, Stephen? Hurrrrr that's not how bodies work hurrrrr"

Needless to say, because I wasn't scared, I was basically doing that thing where I was thinking: "Well, if I saw this monster in quite this way, I would have done this or this or this."

But with the appearance of one of Its final forms, it clicked. I got it. And I was able to extrapolate from the fear a character felt to some fears in my own life. It was remarkably powerful. Its appearance was perfect in that moment, and a lot of the book slotted into place for me. I was able to look at my own fear in the face--realize what shape It would take in adulthood.

That right there is the magic of literature, lemme tell you. I had a healing moment last night.

I highly recommend giving It a read.

As for me, I'm about to read a LOT more classic King. Stick around to hear me huff and puff about Carrie or something, idk

[ronaldanthony4]

I’ve done it again—another piece of digital art. This time, it’s a fan art of a character that may not be as well-known but holds a special place in my heart. I’m talking about Lime Light, a minor character from the 2003 version of the beloved cartoon "Strawberry Shortcake." When I sat down to create this piece, I couldn’t help but be reminded of her introduction in the episode "Berrywood Here We Come." It’s a story about friendship, transformation, and the realisation that everyone has something special to offer, even when they don’t see it themselves.

Lime Light caught my eye for several reasons, but first, let me tell you about how I portrayed her in my artwork. I wanted to capture her essence—the confidence, the glamour, and yes, even the vanity that made her such a memorable character. Her light blonde hair cascades in soft waves, almost like strands of sunlight, with a lime-themed hairpin resting neatly at the top. The hairpin itself is intricate, shaped like a lime slice with a small green bow accenting it. It’s a detail I didn’t want to miss because it ties so much of her character together—a mix of elegance and zest.

Her eyes are a striking shade of green, almost as if nature itself had lent its colour to her. They’re bright and captivating, and, if you look closely, they seem to hold a hint of mischief—a reflection of the character I grew to love and, at times, roll my eyes at. Lime Light’s fair skin glows softly, complemented by her green necklace, which looks like it’s made of small, polished lime-shaped beads. Each bead sparkles subtly, adding to her star-like quality. Her outfit, of course, is iconic—a light green dress adorned with lime motifs. The lime designs curve beautifully at the top and bottom, framing the dress with a touch of citrusy charm. The bow in the middle adds a girlish elegance, reminding us that beneath the glitz and glamour, she’s still just a young girl trying to figure out her place in the world.

I didn’t stop there. Her shoes—green heels with delicate ribbons—are simple yet refined. They match the dress perfectly, completing her look without stealing the show. Every detail, from the way her dress catches the light to the soft pink blush on her cheeks, was carefully crafted to reflect her character. She’s a star, and I wanted my artwork to make that abundantly clear. The overall effect is stunning, showcasing her youthful innocence and undeniable grace. The subtle details in her outfit speak volumes about her personality and inner strength.

But who is Lime Light? For those who haven’t seen the episode, let me paint a picture of her personality. She’s introduced as a child star, already accustomed to the limelight—pun intended. Lime Light is confident to a fault, often crossing the line into arrogance. She’s the type of person who wants everything to be perfect, especially when the director’s camera is rolling. Her vanity is almost endearing in a way, as it shows just how much she cares about her image. But it doesn’t stop there. Lime Light believes she’s the best at everything and is quick to dismiss others, chalking up any criticism to jealousy. If someone outshines her, she assumes they’re either overreacting or trying to steal her thunder.

As I worked on this piece, I couldn’t help but reflect on the depth of her character. Yes, she’s selfish and vain, but aren’t we all flawed in some way? Lime Light’s story isn’t just about her faults; it’s about how she grows beyond them. When she first meets Strawberry Shortcake and her friends, Lime Light is less than pleasant. She’s dismissive, demanding, and downright mean at times, especially to her fans. She acts as though she’s untouchable, a star shining so brightly that no one else could compare.

Of course, Strawberry Shortcake, ever the optimist, sees through Lime Light’s façade. She understands that Lime Light’s arrogance comes from a place of insecurity. Beneath all that glamour and bravado is a girl who just wants to be loved and appreciated. Strawberry knows this, and she sets out to help Lime Light realise a simple but powerful truth: everyone can shine because everyone is a star in their way. Strawberry Shortcake's kindness and empathy ultimately break through Lime Light's tough exterior, showing her that true greatness comes from lifting others, not tearing them down.

The turning point comes when Strawberry rallies her friends to help Lime Light. It’s not an easy task. Lime Light resists, clinging to her belief that she doesn’t need anyone’s help. But slowly, through acts of kindness and patience, Strawberry and her friends begin to break down Lime Light’s walls. They show her that being a star isn’t about being better than everyone else; it’s about sharing your light and lifting others Lime Light begins to realise that true greatness is found in kindness and empathy, rather than in competition and isolation.

When I think back to the message of that episode, I realise how timeless it is. Lime Light’s journey is one that many of us can relate to. We all have moments when we feel the need to prove ourselves, to shine brighter than everyone else. But true happiness doesn’t come from outshining others; it comes from recognising that we’re all stars in our own right. Lime Light's realization serves as a powerful reminder that true greatness lies in lifting others rather than tearing them down.

As I put the finishing touches on my artwork, I felt a sense of satisfaction. It wasn’t just about creating something visually appealing; it was about capturing the heart of a character and the story she represents. Lime Light may be a minor character in the world of "Strawberry Shortcake," but her story carries a major lesson. She reminds us that even when we’re at our worst, there’s always a chance to grow, to change, and to become better.

Looking at the finished piece, I couldn’t help but smile. Lime Light stood there, her green dress glowing softly against the background of strawberries and flowers. Her pose was confident, her smile radiant. At that moment, she wasn’t just a character from a cartoon; she was a symbol of transformation and the power of friendship. I hope that anyone who sees this artwork will be reminded of her story and the lessons it teaches. After all, in a world that often feels like a competition, it’s important to remember that there’s room for everyone to shine.

So, here’s to Lime Light—the vain, selfish, but ultimately lovable star who showed us that everyone has something special to offer. Creating this piece was more than just an artistic endeavour; it was a chance to revisit a story that has stayed with me since childhood. And as I share this artwork with the world, I hope it brings a little bit of Lime Light’s sparkle into someone else’s life. May we all remember to embrace our uniqueness and celebrate the diversity of talents that each individual possesses.

[eureka-its-zico]

Forever...(Is a long time)

Summary: Your best friend in the world just so happened to be your partner in the bureau. In a last minute request, she asks that you help her husband with their kids. Your life never mapped out anything domesticated and you didn't know the first thing about kids. But when life throws you off course you only have two options: do you turn your back on your best friend's wish or do you become the person she always knew you could be?

A/N: Here I go again. Writing another series before I ever officially finish anything else. I totally blame the fact I dreamed about this story, and after I dreamed about DILF!Jungkook...well, my brain wouldn't allow me to do anything else. As always, I hope someone out there enjoys this and that it interests someone out there. So without further ado, here is Part 1. Much love, Jenn

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: DILF!Jungkook, slow burn, friends to lover

Words: 10,435

Disclaimer: This chapter has mild violence and talks about grief.

There was always something that could be said before you went on a mission. A lot of it was chalked up to acting like you were fearless, when you were anything but. The possible unknowns always hung heavy like a storm cloud over you. Your heart beating to the tune of an unforgiving adrenaline rush that always threatened to put you over the edge. It was always a possibility your flight would take over; the fight deciding it was time to skip town. And when that moment happened, all you had to do was look to your partner beside you.

You’d been partnered with Jeon Li since basic. The two of you not starting off on the best of terms (sort of happens when you keep eating their favorite cereal...and using up their toothpaste). It took a lot of getting used to the other - learning how the other chose to operate. Li was always the more patient of the two of you. She was always looking at the ends and outs. She made sure there was a solid entrance and exit plan just in case things went south.

That was just her thing. Li was like that even off the field. If you had a girls’ day, it was planned all the way down to what time you changed into swimsuits. How long that swim lasted until the scheduled dinner time was always up for debate. It didn’t escape anyone who ever met her why she was the top field agent in, and outside, the office. Whenever someone received new intel, Li was the first one they called. She was the brains. The master behind every well thought out plan. Li lived for data and code cracking, but not so much for the messier side of field work that usually happened.

That’s where you came in. If Li was the brains you were most definitely the brawn. You were constantly chastised for not thinking and just doing.

“You always rush ahead,” she’d criticize, sounding more like a tired mother than a friend.

“It’s alright. I had it covered.”

“Oh yeah? He had a double barreled shotgun, y/n.”

“Yeah okay, well, the door more importantly had me covered.”

You showcased the half exploded door that now resembled a Dutch door. Your hands playfully swinging back the top piece like the shattered wood wasn’t going to splinter off further than it already had.

It wasn’t that you weren’t smart; you were capable of doing half of what Li could, but only half. You weren’t into looking at endless amounts of code a day trying to cypher out information or taking your time to write up incident reports when shit went sideways. You didn’t really have the patience to write out eloquently what exactly transpired between point A and B and why, when you got to C, bullets started flying.

Your superiors were quick to remind you this was categorized in their book as a, “Character flaw.” It wasn’t a character flaw to them when they sent you out begging for results, but that was an argument for a different day. Today, you were sitting here in the helicopter, your best friend reading off the debrief while you double checked your weapons, and asking you why you never settled down.You were in the middle of holstering your browning high-power and rolling your eyes at Li’s latest attempt at getting you to find a steady relationship...or home.

“Seriously, y/n, at some point you’re going to find someone who is going to make you stop running.”

You couldn’t keep the snort from escaping you. Your hands pulling tightly on the velcro of your bulletproof vest to make sure it was secured.

“Li. The kids and husband thing - that’s all you.”

“It could be a you thing too. You just have to find someone that makes you believe that.”

“Fairytales are meant for children so they believe in a better world. Unfortunately, I live in the real world. Not a fairytale. There’s too much ugly in it for me to ever see it as something magical.”

A sad smile left Li looking pained instead of amused. Which, it was accurate. This sort of discussion always left her a little more defeated each time you had them. Li moved to place her tablet at her side. Her own hands moving to check the comms channel for your ear pieces, and always checking on her gun last.

“You know, magic isn’t just for children but they damn sure help remind you the world is full of it. There is still good in this world worth fighting for; people worth fighting for. I pray one day you get to experience that, my friend.”

You weren’t sure what you could’ve told her. Your cynical heart was already geared up to block out whatever rays of sunshine Li was trying to spread, but this time you didn’t bother. If only Li knew that she was a reason for you to keep fighting. She was one of those good people, full of magic, and stories of wonder she no doubt told her children. You’d never met her husband, Jungkook. The unfortunate thing about working for a bureau: if one part of the team is off, the partner isn’t. Weddings and births included. From all the wonderful things you’d heard about him from Li’s gushing, you knew he must have been full of sunshine and rainbows, just like Li. A match made in heaven.

Except, she never could tell him what she did for a living. Not the real her, anyways and that was something Li seemed to regret.

“We drop in five, ladies!” the pilot informed you over the comms.

You and Li moved to stand at the edge of the chopper. The both of you latching your hooks to the chopper and the other on the rope. You were already starting to say your hail mary’s and trying to keep your knees from knocking together. God, how you hated heights.

“It is always nice to see after all this time, the Great Y/N is still scared of heights,” Li chuckled over the comms.

“Yeah, well God couldn’t make us all perfect,” you snipped back.

You were still holding the rope for dear life when the pilot yelled out, “Go!” Your teeth bit down violently into your bottom lip to keep yourself from screaming as you took that first step off. The sensation of your body plummeting down towards the rooftop below you was a shockwave of wind. If your knees wouldn’t get blown out from impact, you happily would’ve closed your eyes instead of watching the earth come speeding towards you like the worst kind of high-speed chase.

When your feet finally connected with the cement roof, you were grateful for the piercing bite of the impact in your feet that ricocheted to your knees. You couldn’t get yourself detached from the rope fast enough.

“If it wasn’t for us being on a time limit I would definitely stop to kiss the floor,” you groaned.

Li shook her head as she double checked her equipment. A genuine smile creased her eyes as she patted you on the back in support.

“Pigeons poop on this, y/n.”

“I would still kiss it. Pigeon poop and all.”

“I’m going to pretend you never said that.”

It was your turn to make sure all your gear had made it intact. Your right hand sliding into your holster to draw your gun free, and pointing it down towards the floor. Your body joined in on the crouched position of Li who was only a few feet ahead of you. Her hands quickly worked on picking the roof door lock. She had it open in seconds.

She motioned for you to take point and your legs quickly brought you forward. All the joking and talks of the million dollar question of will you, or won’t you, ever settle down came to a halt. Inside the close contact quarters of these hallways was the real-life chance of fucking up and someone dying. Today was not the day Li or you were dying. Not on your watch. Not in your fucking lifetime.

You made a quick motion for her to follow behind you as you raised your gun. The end of the barrel helped your eyes scope out every stairwell and doorway until you came to the one you’d been looking for.

“The sixteenth floor is where the intel is located.”

Li’s voice couldn’t have been more than a whisper. You were the only two in here, but old habits die hard and it was better to be as silent as possible. No one wanted a repeat of what happened in Morocco.

Your response was a curt nod as you pressed your back against the wall. Your free hand reaching out to take hold of the doorknob. Li responded by placing her back on the opposite side, her gun ready and pointed towards the door. You counted to three inside your head and flung the door open. Your gun moving like a third arm as you turned to the open hallway to find it empty. You kept your gun trained as Li brought up the rear.

You took note of the cameras and quickly moved to bring your neck mask up towards your nose. The can off spray paint already coming out of your cargo pocket. You gave it a good shake before reaching up and covering the camera lens in black.

“I could’ve just disabled those.”

You gave a small shrug as your hand slid the can back inside your cargo pocket. Li now took point to head towards the last door on the left.

“Disabling them doesn’t cost these assholes money to replace them.”

“I swear you were a low budget criminal in another life.”

“Thanks, Li. That’s sweet.”

She couldn’t see it, but you were smiling under your mask. Li didn’t have to see you to give a disapproving head shake, but you knew underneath she was trying not to crack a smile. You both wasted no more time sweeping each room before you finally got to the executive's office. Once Li made sure there was nothing hidden from keeping her from the computer, she was glued to the chair. Her fingers raced over the keys as you kept point with your gun trained on the door.

It was too quiet; too easy. You’ve had easy jobs before, but when you’d first got this brief the first thing you’d noticed was that the man in question, who was possibly selling weapons to foreign adversaries, was ex-military. Ex-military meant a head full of paranoia. You’d done your own recon of the building on multiple occasions. Memorized the layout in case of the need for a quick exit or a place to hide. You’d counted endless amounts of cameras and sensors. So why has it been so easy to get in here?

You should’ve been met by alarms blaring somewhere in the building. A guard roaming the hall to hunt down whatever could’ve caused a disturbance. Instead, the only sound that you heard was the ghosts of empty offices. Your hands were beginning to sweat from the dread that was building in your gut, but was there really a reason for it?

“You almost done back there, Li?”

“Yeah, yeah I’ve got it. Everything okay?”

Your eyes scanned rapidly over the glass window and the door you’d left wide open. Was that...was there movement in the reflection?

“Yeah...no. Li, I don’t think we’re alone he-”

You didn’t get a chance to finish before something was tossed inside the room. Your brows raised into your hairline as shockwaves of adrenaline took root inside your veins. You didn’t know what was in that canister, but you weren’t going to chance it.

“Li, get down!” you screamed.

You launched your body over the desk. A protective arm grabbing her on your way down and forcing her to join you on the floor. A second later the canister exploded in a cloud of smoke. Luckily, you still have your face covered. It wasn’t going to protect your lungs completely, but it was more than Li had who was currently choking back on the smoke.

“Shit.”

Your voice was heavy and laced with venom that spit out against your lips. The oncoming footsteps told you plainly that you weren’t being greeted by one or two security guards. No, whoever was coming was not security, and there were a lot of the fuckers. You needed to find a way to vent the room so Li could get air, but if the people coming down the hall were armed, which you heavily suspected, you were both going to need a lot more than air.

“Li! Is there a fire escape behind us? Li!”

You watched as her eyes looked up at yours. Sheer panic made them grow wider with each passing second until her body became racked with painful coughs. You gave her a shake trying to stop the panic from overtaking her completely. The only thing you could think to do, the only thing that mattered, was taking off your mask and placing it over her mouth. The smoke of the grenade hit your lungs instantly with your first breath. It took everything in you not to start hacking up one or both of your lungs.

“Li, listen to me! We need to get out of here! We only have a couple minutes before they are on us.”

You were still holding the mask to her face. Tears now streaking your cheeks as you struggled to hold in a gut wrenching cough. Li’s gaze met yours with a desperation noticeably behind them.

“The office next door has the actual fire escape.” She was able to get the last word out before her body became overwhelmed with a cough. This time you were quick to join her.

God, it felt like you’d swallowed sandpaper.

“We can’t get to the next room-“

Before you could finish that thought a mass of gunfire erupted in the room.

“Push!” You ordered.

The two of you used your shoulders to tip over the large oak desk and scurried to hide behind the thickest part of the legs. The room was thick with the sound of bullets leaving the chamber and embedding themselves in the wood. The glass window behind you shattering into a million pieces with pieces of books and papers flying up around you like feathers.

“This is Jeon Li! We’ve been compromised I repeat, we’ve been com-“

Another flurry of bullets came to cover up the next gas grenade that launched over the side of the desk. Li and you turned in sync to look at each other. A perfect, “Oh, fuck,” sending you up from behind the desk and straight to the exposed window. You had no choice but to turn and open suppressing fire while you waited for the stupid thing to go off. If you were wrong and it was an actual grenade, you were both fucked.

You both glanced over the side and noticed there was barely a small ledge to stand on. Just enough to, hopefully, hug the wall and shimmy over to the fire escape.

“Go! I’ll cover you, Li!”

“Y/n, no-“

“Don’t fuckin argue with me, Li just go!”

If you could’ve shoved her without accidentally sending her over the edge, you would have. That fear that had laced itself deep inside your gut was trying to call itself adrenaline and, hell, maybe it was but you knew better. The thundering in your chest was a fear so sharp it left you dizzy. The thought of Li not making it out of here to see her babies…Jeongsan was only a few months old.

No. You were getting her out of here.

You started opening fire. Your eyes caught movement behind the door and glass. You got a few good shots off right before the grenade of smoke exploded into your view. Your arm instinctively shot up to try and protect your throat and nose, but without proper masks your lungs were pretty much being eaten alive by smoke.

You watched as Li disappeared on the side of the building and you moved to follow suit. The next few bullets you fired off went blindly towards the door. Right before you stepped out of the room and onto the ledge, you made the mistake of looking down. Instantly, you felt your world begin to spin. You closed your eyes and tried to calm yourself. Either you stepped off the ledge or you were going to become a bullet bag. With one large inhale of air, you moved to take a step to the ledge.

The room erupted back into gunfire and forced you to practically throw yourself out against the building. You felt your center of gravity waiver and started praying to every available ear in the universe that you weren’t about to become a sidewalk pancake.

The shuffle of movement towards the fire escape was painfully slow. You knew you both needed to pick up the pace, but there was only so much you could do sixteen stories up. You were more than half way when you heard someone order, “Check the rooms!” And knew you were in trouble.

Li was almost to the fire escape when a head peaked out over the side.. Without thinking you lifted up your gun and started firing; forcing them back behind the protection of the wall.

“Y/n, I’m over. Jump and I’ll catch you.”

“Are you fucking crazy?!” You snapped.

She had to be if she thought you were about to attempt a jump with not even three inches under your feet. You weren’t given much of a choice when you looked through the next window and see a made in military grade armor lift up a semi-automatic directly in your direction.

“Oh, fuuuuuuuck,” you groaned.

The glass broke off into a million worlds around you. The shattered pieces blowing passed you with smaller pieces slicing into your cheeks and arms. You didn’t have time to stop and check the damage. Whether you liked it or not your only option now was to jump.

You sent out another last minute prayer and hurled yourself towards the metal railing of the fire escape. You seriously hoped Li was ready for you. She didn’t disappoint.

As soon as your chest connected against the metal guard rail, Li was right there. Her arms coming over your shoulders to grab onto your vest and haul you over the side. You were still swimming your legs over when the head that had peaked out before did so again. This time with his gun trained directly on your location. You both scrambled to move down the metal stairs as he opened fire. Another rifle joined his shortly.

You were making good time down the fire escape when a stray bullet ricocheted into your left shoulder. The pain was immediate, intense, and numbing all at once. It was as if your body wasn’t sure how it was supposed to feel about your new edition, but you all could agree it was excruciating.

A scream tore free from you and you felt, more than seen, Li halted in her steps.

“Keep going!” You roared just as it began to rain bullets down on your position.

You were struggling to think of your next step. Your head felt full of ideas but you couldn’t visualize them. The adrenaline was threatening to give way to panic and if you did that it was over. For Li. For you. For whatever data Li had pulled from that server. No, you refused to go down to some mercenary grade punks. You also knew you were sitting ducks running down the stairs like this.

When they were in the middle of a reload up top and their voices were shouting about whether or not to follow after you, you took a chance to look over the railing. Five stories up. Five flights of stairs to go and a load of trash bags down below.

“We need to jump.”

You stated it so calmly you couldn’t believe it was coming from you. Apparently, neither could Li.

“Are you fucking nuts?”

“We won’t make it down without getting struck by bullets if we keep going like this, Li. We need to take the chance and jump.”

“I hope there’s not a thrown out oven or something under those trash bags,” she groaned.

Shit, you didn’t even think of that. You didn’t have time to worry about what if’s right now. The sound of magazines being inserted and guns being cocked brought you back to the present and you felt your body leap over the metal without a second thought. It wasn’t until you landed that you wished you’d given your area of choice a glance over. You were more than sure that landing twisted your ankle. Or worse

No, jumping into waiting trash wasn’t as cool as movies made it. Li and you also weren’t getting out of it without a few groans and slow movements. It didn’t matter if your brain kept reminding your body that there were guys with guns still shooting in your general direction. Your body made itself very aware it wasn’t budging on its decidedly slower pace.

You were struggling to get out of the trash bags. Your shoulder now bleeding steadily and with a sore ankle to match…yeah you were definitely the slowest man on the team. But Li came right beside you, hauling your arm over her shoulders, and placed a supportive one around your hips.

“Come on, y/n. We’re almost out of this.”

“Don’t-don’t tempt me with a good time,” you coughed.

You were both attempting to move faster than you both could possibly go. If your lungs were still burning from gas grenades, Li’s had to be in hell. But you were still moving forward and giving it your all.

You weren’t in the clear yet, though. You could hear them giving chase. The sounds of their feet smashing against the grates of the fire escape only forcing you both to move faster. If you could just get to a vehicle you were confident you could hot wire it. Petty theft in high school pays off…sometimes.

“Li…we-we just got to find a car-“

She was directing you towards the nearest one. Even if it was a couple feet away, it felt like you were running a marathon to get there. You felt close. So incredibly close when the gunfire started again.

“Y/n, find cover!”

Li didn’t give you a chance to react. To tell her to damn with hiding. It was her job to hide. Her job was to stay alive and go home to a family that loves her…that was waiting for her. You didn’t get to tell her anything as she shoved you down behind the car and drew her gun.

It felt like slow motion. Everything in front of your eyes just seemed to stop making any sense; none of it was able to register. You saw it. You know you did, because you couldn’t unsee it. Li opened fire blindly back at the men giving chase. Her other hand came to close around the gun's handle to give it more stability. Just like you’d shown her. You wish at this moment you could’ve been proud, but when you watched two slugs find a home in her gut there wasn’t any pride there. Just pure terror.

“Li!”

You forced your body to get up. Not giving your wounded ankle another thought as you used the side of the car for stability and your arm swinging wide to bring your gun up. You wish you would have reminded yourself to time your shots.

Don’t waste bullets. Aim down your sights. Control your breathing.

None of it came to mind. You couldn’t process anything. Your mind only replays the moment of Li getting shot over and over…

You weren’t even aware you were firing. That your voice was growing raw from screaming as you hobbled out from behind the car. Your ankle was doing its own form of protesting as you took steps forward to grab Li, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care that you couldn’t feel your left arm, either. The only thing that mattered was getting Li.

When you reached her you placed your hands under her arms and started dragging her back behind the car. You were trying not to pay attention to her hands limply holding onto her stomach or the blood that seeped out between her fingers.

“Stay with me, Li!”

As soon as you knew you had her safe behind the vehicle your body burst into action. Your elbow smashed into the glass of the car three times before it gave way. Your hand reached in quickly to unlock it. You pulled Li towards the backseat and shoved her in as gently as you could. Once you knew she was secured, you made your way from the passengers side to the drivers side. The whole time staying low to the seat as you ripped out the wiring from underneath the steering wheel.

“You with me, Li? Are you still with me?”

Fuck. You were crying. Your vision was blurred and you could barely make out the colors of the wires. Or was the blood loss starting to get to you? Whatever it was, it was making you clumsy. It was costing you valuable seconds. Seconds Li was losing all because you couldn’t get two fucking wires-

When the engine burst into life a happy scream left you. You almost forgot about being shot at. Almost. You were reminded seconds later when bullets burst through the windows sending shards of glass down all around you.

“I’m so sick of this shit!”

You maneuvered up as much as you could. Your hands putting the car in reverse and another hand down on the glass. You braved peaking your head out just enough to see where you were going before dropping it down just in time to have a bullet graze past your face. You pushed down on the gas not caring in which direction it was driving you towards. Anywhere was better than this shithole.

As soon as you had a clear shot to the street you took it. You made the choice to drive blind, your head barely peeking up over the steering wheel, before you slowly moved to sit all the way up.

“We made it.” You laughed in disbelief…or was that the blood loss again? You weren’t sure but- “we’re gonna be okay, Li.”

You glanced into the back seat and realized she was barely breathing. Her eyes looking back up at you glazed over from unshed tears and something that you refused to acknowledge.

“Hey, Li don’t you fucking give up on me, you hear? Your stupid husband is waiting for you to get home. Your kids too. Don’t you do this to me.”

You weren’t aware you were sobbing until it rolled through your body landing punches in your gut - threatening to double you over. You should get her to the hospital. Common sense said get her to the hospital, but she needed to put something on the wound. She needed to stop the blood…

Without thinking you pulled over and tore out of the driver side and into the back of the beat up car. You made sure you didn’t ram into her in your haste, but quickly looked around for something to stop the blood. Your hands wrapped around a blanket tossed inside of a bag and pressed it gently to her stomach. Even that small amount left Li lurching up from the seat and a cry of pain to fill the small cab.

“Li, please. Just hold this down for me. I’m gonna get you to a hospital. You’re gonna be alright, I promise.”

There was no denying that you were crying. The blurry vision from earlier now swarming completely until you could barely make out her shape. Li tried to give you a reassuring smile, but it was as if her body no longer had enough strength to do it. She struggled just to reach her hands towards you. A weak hand softly landing on top of the ones that were pressing the blanket down into her stomach.

“Y/n,” she started softly.

“No! No, you don’t get to do this here.”

“Listen-listen to me, please.”

“Li.”

You could only sob out her name. The denial heavy in her name.

“I need-I need you to help Jungkook with the kids. I need you to promise-prom…promise me you’ll be there for my kids.”

“You won’t need me to be there for them, Li. You’re gonna be there. You’re gonna be there to watch them grow up. To graduate. Get married and give you grandkids and all that other shit. This isn’t it for you, Li.”

A tear slid out from the corners of her eyes and you sent out a shaky hand to brush them away.

“Please. Please just promise me you’ll do this for me. Be there for them.”

You felt childish - shaking your head in refusal because how could you agree? How could she ask you to watch over them like a guardian when she was going to be fine? Li was going to be fine. You were going to tell her this. Force her to understand that her journey didn’t end here when-

“Jeon Li!? Li! Don’t you dare die on me!”

You checked for a pulse. You put your ear over her lips and listened for any sort of inhalation of breath. There wasn’t any. Immediately you moved to start CPR. Your body struggling to maneuver in the small space to do it properly.

You weren’t sure how long you performed it. You weren’t sure when your body decided it just couldn’t hold out anymore and stopped. You couldn’t say when you started holding her and sobbing or how long you did it for. When other agents showed up, ambulance in tow, they just said you were rocking her. Refused to let her go.

How could you let her go? How could she expect you to fulfill her promise when sometime tonight a husband would be informed his wife was gone, and her children would never have their mother again.

—————————-

A week later…

If you’ve ever felt like an outsider at a party, maximize that feeling by a thousand. Multiply it by another thousand and that would be the most accurate account of how uncomfortable you felt here in the church’s pew.

Originally, you didn’t plan on coming to Jeon Li’s funeral. Who wants to process grief in front of strangers? Or continue having to tell the stupid lie that you and Li had been the unfortunate victims of a carjacking. How sad you poor women got caught up in something horrible coming back from a work meeting. Yeah…a carjacking. What’s a better way to say that a loved one died for something pointless? To die over something as silly as a car or money just felt insulting to the woman Li truly was. Even sillier was the fact she had died for something pointless in the end.

You wanted to scream. To tell everyone she died believing she was protecting them in ways they couldn’t ever know or understand. Li went down fighting and protecting those that she loved and this…this felt like a dishonor to her memory. To find out later the information she’d tried to take was nothing more than encrypted code for a grocery store, because somehow the bad guys knew you were coming.

And now here you are: standing in a pew, two rows back, staring at the shaking shoulders of Jungkook. Li’s and his conjoined family surrounding him; his father embracing him tightly, but not bringing him fully into a hug. They surrounded him, but no one offered to hold him. They must have believed he needed to stand strong for their kids. But a two-year-old and a three-month-old cannot fully comprehend the weight of loss that had just been placed on the shoulders of a father.

You were told to go the reading of the will. Li herself had spoken about how she’d added you in a thousand times, but you never wanted to hear it. Will’s were meant for the old, not the young.

You’d been sitting at your desk for what felt like hours, but was merely minutes. The walk into the building and the repetitive show of your badge were things you’d done easily on auto-pilot. The coffee in your hand had long gone cold, but you weren’t worried about drinking it. It was more for looks. A fake show of bravado as you walked to your desk, the now empty one devoid of the person who used to sit in front of you had been cleared out over the weekend.

The spot that used to house your best friend now only held her ghost.

Your laptop was opened and waiting for you to unlock the screen. The cold coffee you’d been clutching still firmly held its place between your hands. A part of you wished you could say that all the tears you’d shed over the last few days were enough. That you could sit here, remind yourself easily this was work, and hold it together. Judging from the way your Director looked at you as he set a file down on your desk, you weren’t convincing no one.

“Go home, y/n,” he sighed.

Even as he offered up the option for you to go he placed a Manila folder down on the desk. You didn’t bother to turn to him in greeting or look to see what was labeled on the front. All you cared about was that it was work. Something to keep you busy - to keep you going.

Still holding the cold coffee, you reached out and took the folder. Your thumb moves between its folds to spread the contents open in front of you.

“No.”

That one word came out gravelly and harsh. As if you’d attempted to swallow handfuls of glass.

“I figured no matter what I did it wouldn’t make you leave,” he conceded in defeat. His hip pressed in deeper on your desk. “Your grievance PTO still isn’t over.”

“It’s over for me.”

“Y/N…Li’s Will hearing is today. I’m supposed to advise you, by her lawyer, that you are supposed to attend.”

Your hand contracted around the soft recycled cardboard of the cup. If you squeezed down any harder you’d be wearing your five dollar cup of cold brew.

“Tell them I have more important stuff to do.”

You turned your back to him and busied yourself logging into your computer. Your fingers lazily moved over the keyboards to pull up the specific file that went with the data on the folder he’d just given you. You didn’t look at him when he tried bringing your attention back to him like a two-year-old by shaking your chair.

“What Li wanted was important. Important enough to her, matter-of-fact, that she would ask all of us to remind your stubborn ass to go. So go.”

He gave your chair one last smack before he finally left you alone inside your office. You waited longer to make sure you were fully alone before glancing over at her desk. Your eyes easily spotting the family portrait she kept framed next to her computer like a sad eye-spy. You allowed yourself to look over its intricate frame of golds and silvers; the splash of red from delicately carved roses. The family inside that frame was happy; invincibly so but you could remember the shaking shoulders of a broken man and no doubt the questions that clung to him like stale smoke. You weren’t in the mood to see someone else sharing in your grief or have the patience to keep up a charade.

With one final huff you turned back to your computer. Your decision was final.

Six long months had passed since that day. Every single day that filled up each of them felt like an eternity. You’d always heard that grief got easier with time. Whoever said that must have not known what they were talking about. The only thing you’d noticed was the pain came in waves and usually on the back of memories.

Sure, you were no longer walking around like a zombie or having random breakdowns during inappropriate times when you painfully remembered Li was gone. A part of you preferred that. It was better than walking, minding your own business, and a random smell of a plant along walkways or a freaking certain laundry detergent sent your brain down memory lane. Just yesterday you’d put on a shirt Li had picked out for you to wear on a blind date. The date had gone to shit, but Li had met you at the bar an hour later. The two of you got so drunk you’d switched clothes for reasons you’ll never understand, and ended back at her place to a movie marathon. She’d met Jungkook a week after that.

That memory alone came on sharp. Your grief swallowed you whole and left you paralyzed on the floor of your apartment. So, no. Time didn’t make grieving easier. It just allowed it to sucker punch you like a sledgehammer at random moments throughout the day. Just to remind you of what you lost.

You were making your way through the thick rows of cubicles towards your old joined office in the back. Your face buried in your phone and the latest data files IT could pull up on the new case you were working tucked under your arm. You were half way past Jhuen’s desk when the boss man’s booming voice yelled, “Y/L/N! My office! Now!”

You peaked over your phone. A timid thing just to gage whether you could get away with pretending you were deaf. By the deadly seriousness in his eyes and the hard set of his lips, you were going to say that’d be a no.

You let out a groan anyways and changed course to his office. “Looks like someone is in trouble,” Dave sang as you walked past.

“Looks like somebody doesn’t remember how to mind his own business,” you sang back, not trying to hide the sharp dislike for the man with every high note.

Nobody liked Dave. You especially didn’t like Dave for the fact he was a parasite - riding in behind someone’s failure to boot lick himself past their shadow. It was silent knowledge in the building that he, and a few others, were not to be considered friends. Or maybe you just didn’t like anyone anymore. You were known to be prickly at best when Li was still alive. The only reason you were remotely friendly was her doing, but with her gone…

You could feel his eyes burying themselves in the back of your skull. Whatever choice words he had in reply stayed with him as you quickly made your way towards the Director’s office. As soon as you crossed through the threshold, he motioned for you to shut the door behind you.

“While I appreciate you helping me remember how to sound out my last name, sir I’d like a simple call to my desk next time. If I can put that in as a request for next time.”

You plopped down into the seat that was suspiciously seated perfectly in front of him. His bulldog expression deepened the wrinkles around his eyes to successfully age him way past his years. He most definitely did not find you amusing in the slightest. You maneuvered your files into your lap and sat your phone down on top. If he wanted to have a staring contest with you, you were happy to oblige.

“Cut the wise ass remarks, y/n. I have something here that’s, well, going to be hard for you to swallow. I need to know you are going to be able to handle this.”

“Well, that was ominous as hell,” you grumbled, but there was no denying the sweat that began in your palms.

It took every ounce of control not to wipe them against the legs of your slacks. Your eyes heavily fixed on the man in front of you. He wasn't gruff because of trivial office banter. No, something was weighing him down and your chest felt like it was going to burst.

He didn’t hand it to you as much as he slid it across his desk in your direction. Only the edges of his fingers touched the edges as if whatever inside left him wanting to be far away from its contents. Well…that didn’t bode well. The apparent urge you had to ruffle his feathers, your quote “wise ass remarks,” died down when you noticed there were no markings on the folder. Not a name, post-it note, or inscribed symbol of the agency was on its baby blue front.

It only meant one thing - whatever was in the file was a matter of life and death. Beyond a ‘need to know bases’ and more towards a ‘you better pass your clearance check first’ kind of bases.

You and Li had gotten the same kind of folder a couple days before she’d died.

“Y/n,” your name left his mouth like a warning.

Your director's eyes, however, were filled with a sadness that left him uncertain. When dealing with those stuck in a continuous pattern of grief, you never knew if they were on the anger portion of that wheel. Lately, you seem to only be stuck on that section 24/7.

You didn’t hear him. Your arm extended out in blinding speed, unthinking, to snatch the folder off of his desk. The folders you’d tucked into your lap are now discarded on the floor. You knew he was talking; he must be. None of his words could make it past the sound of the blood rushing in your ears or the hammering of your heart against your chest. Your eyes were scanning the words and your brain was trying to make sense of them and the photos that accompanied them.

The only clear picture it gave sat wrong and dirty like rotted fruit in an otherwise beautiful painting. It allowed one answer to all the questions that were rising in your throat, but you refused to voice them. You weren’t aware your eyes had filled with tears until you looked back up into your director’s weathered face, and hated the amount of pity it reflected back at you.

“Li wasn’t a traitor.” Your voice was deep in shock, but the anger bubbled along its surface.

“Y/N-“

“No! Whatever - whoever - made this fucking file is wrong. She couldn’t- she...she wasn’t like that.”

God, you would’ve pitied yourself too if you knew what you looked like. The way you struggled to defend a damn woman who betrayed not only you, but her country.

“You know our intel is always solid. I couldn’t believe this either, y/n, so I made sure we triple checked everything before I gave this to you. I wanted to be sure.”

You felt sick.

“There’s still a chance that someone could just be out there to ruin whatever is left of her.”

It was a weak argument and you both knew it. Damn it, you just couldn’t allow yourself to believe any of it. So many why’s were flying around your head - all these questions to ask a dead woman who could never answer.

“Possibly. Either way you spin this it unfortunately leaves us with the fact that whatever she stole for us to give to them, it’s missing. Because it’s missing they are now going to target Jungkook and the kids to get to it.”

“How do we know it wasn’t him?”

“It wasn’t who? The husband?” He looked at you like you’d started barking.

“It’s possible. We don’t know anything about him.”

“He’s an artist -“

“That’s like the number one most suspicious job you could ever have,” you pointed out.

He let out a sigh as he leaned back into his chair. His hands moving to rest on his stomach while he gave you a once over.

“Look, y/n, I went against my superiors by giving you this information. I figured you were the best one to infiltrate the family and see what you could learn. Whatever Li had on those disks is enough to put her whole family in danger. I know you. I know, whatever you’re feeling right now, that you’ll do the right thing and protect innocent people.”

Damn him. He was right. As much as you hated sitting there thinking about the biggest betrayal you’d ever been a part of, whatever Li’s choices had been, you wouldn’t allow anyone to hurt her kids. The idea that Li would put her family in harm's way like that left the taste of bile sitting heavy in the back of your throat. You felt ready to let go of your breakfast when he placed a white envelope on his desk. It looked wrong sitting in the middle of the sea of dark wood.

“You didn’t go to the Will reading. So the lawyer sent this over a few months back.”

You didn’t want to touch it.

“Why are you giving it to me? You know I don’t want it.”

“It doesn’t matter whether or not you want it, y/n. What’s inside here is going to help you.”

“Help me what, exactly?”

You both knew what he meant. It felt claustrophobic with all the new information that’d been exposed like an old wound to the room. More so, because you still weren’t okay. You still had nightmares of driving in a vehicle with Li’s grizzly in the backseat. Her ghost staring, eyes paper white and mouth open, dripping blood, in your rear view mirror. A sickly reminder you couldn’t save her, but had she ever cared about safety?

If what your director told you was true, Li was a double agent and, worse, she was willing to risk the safety of her family. What could be worth that? Looking down at the white envelope, you knew there was a fifty-fifty of whether you were going to get your answers. But if you took it you were agreeing to whatever plan he’d cooked up.

“You are the closest to the family. Whatever Li left is enough to help you infiltrate the home and find the information we need.”

Your head was already moving rhythmically back and forth before he’d finished.

“No. I’m not doing it.”

“I wasn’t asking,” his gruff voice bellowed. “It still remains to be seen whether or not her husband was in on it, but those kids are innocent. Do you want to be responsible if they die?”

“Don’t you dare put that on me!”

The chair you’d been sitting in crashed to the floor as your legs forced you to stand. Your whole body was vibrating with rage that you struggled to contain. You wanted to launch over his desk and lash out at him. How dare he try and put the kids on you.

“It’s facts, y/n, and you know it! The are or aren’t they is what we are after, but if we don’t do something and find wherever she hid her information, her husband and those kids will be the ones paying for it.”

It made sense. Of course it made sense and he knew it. It didn’t mean that you had to like it. Or that you even needed to agree with him, because it was true. Your feelings didn’t matter when it came to protecting your country and the people who resided in it.

You didn’t bother answering him. Your feet carried you forward towards his desk so you could reach out and snatch the envelope off of his desk. He wasn’t going to get a verbal agreement from you, because you were undecided. Maybe whatever was inside could help you make the choice that needed to be made.

“Notify me if you set one foot inside that house,” he called behind you.

You didn’t respond or show any sign of acknowledgment. Your legs were bolting you to the nearest exit and what little willpower you had left was begging you not to drop the envelope and run for the hills.

—————————

This probably looked as weird as you felt and glancing down at your watch informed you that you’d been out here - like a weirdo - nearing three hours. Cars passed by and neighbors had gone in and out for groceries or mail and no one seemed to notice your presence. Their lack of awareness was truly amazing and alarming.

12:08

That’s what you read. The last light in the house - his bedroom - had turned off an hour ago. Everyone was asleep. There wasn’t going to be a better time to do this than now. So why couldn’t you take your grip off the steering wheel?

After you’d left the bureau you’d gone to a park. You found a bench shaded by a tree and called it home for the next couple hours. Li’s envelope beside you, unopened. A part of you nagged endlessly about ripping it open and finding out what was inside. The major part of you wanted nothing to do with it. If you could’ve dipped it in battery acid and called it a day, you would’ve been happy. You’d sat there for hours until the only thing you could think of was bugging the house. If her husband had been in on whatever she was doing, that seemed the most plausible thing to do. When you got to the house, however, you couldn’t imagine taking a single step inside. But you wanted answers and this seemed the most logical option since you couldn’t get answers from the dead.

With each exhale of breath, you slowly began to pry your fingers off of the wheel. When the last finger came off you reached over to the passengers side to grab the torn envelope. Your hands quickly stuffing it in the pocket of your sweatshirt as you exited the car. You made sure to grab your small duffle with the cameras and tools inside before slamming the door shut.

If a neighbor cared to look out their window they would’ve noticed a suspicious looking figure in a dark sweatshirt with the hood pulled up over their head. Said suspicious person carrying a backpack, gloves on their hands, and glancing left and right like they were waiting for someone to jump out of a bush screaming, “Caught ya!”

It was you. You were the person and you had terrible anxiety at the idea you were indeed about to get caught. You tried your best to push the thought away as you made quick work across the street and towards the back of the house. It was a typical two-story with a fence to hold in what little of a backyard they had. Li complained constantly she wanted a rural home with a real backyard, but Jungkook liked city life.

A rural home would’ve been harder to enter. Neighbors in areas meant for familial life were the nosiest bunch; neighborhood watch and all. City-style homes that were closed in on each other for some reason held a strong no-snooping policy.

With a final glance over your shoulder you braced your hands at the top of the fence and gave off a small push from the ground. Your arms instantly pulled up your weight to help guide a leg over the top of the wooden boards, so the rest of your body could tumble over to the other side. It wasn’t your most graceful entrance, but it was still quiet.

You’d previously looked into whether or not they ever bought any type of home security. You didn’t see any in the files and none previously purchased in their financial records. You silently wrote down, “Buy security,” in your mental bank as you came up to their back door. Your hands fishing your lock pick pouch from your pocket.

You knelt down in front of the lock, a small flashlight held in between your lips, as your finger set to work. You weren’t the best at lockpicking. When you’d first started training at the bureau, small things like lockpicking and chemistry weren’t your things. You’d passed them, but barely. Li was known to be the brains and you, well, you always did have a run and gun western-style approach to things. So yeah, a part of you would have preferred kicking in the door than picking it, but you stayed on your knees. Your hands working deftly in the night and a soft chorus of swear words left your lips whenever you missed the lock. When the lock finally clicked you could stop yourself from a victory, “Ah ha!” That’s right. No stupid lock was going to keep you from finishing this.

You placed the tools back inside their pouch and slid it into your pocket. The small flashlight was back in your left hand while the other was pushing open the door. All the air you’d had in your lungs suddenly felt trapped there as you took your first step inside the house. An unspoken feeling that you shouldn’t be here weighed heavily on your shoulders as your eyes took a look around.

The house itself told a story across its walls of a place where love resided. A family that was happy once was painted all over in their wedding photos to pictures of Li holding their babies straight from the womb. That one in particular hurt the worst. You never been in a relationship that lasted longer than six months to ever consider having kids. It was hard for you to imagine what it felt like to hold someone you fell in love with long before you physically met them. The level of exhaustion and overwhelming joy that brought tears to the eyes of parents meeting them for the first time. Seeing Li like that with Jungkook’s body protectively leaning over them both, a hand on both of them and looking at them with love - it hurt. It hurt more than you would’ve liked.

Inside a home that held the laughter and love of a growing family now felt suspended in grief. You were positive the house never looked this messy before, but now clothes were everywhere. A large hill of laundry sat like a crater in the middle of the sofa. Plates of last nights dinner left where they’d been placed with toys scattered like a minefield across the floor. It was a good thing you brought your flashlight because-

“Fuuuuuuuuuuc-“

Ah yes, of course you were so focused on the valley of toys that your knee ran into the edge of a dining room table. Classic. For a heartbeat you stayed as motionless as you could in the dark. The light of the flashlight dimmed as you shoved it into the leg of your pants. When you were positive no one was up you moved to take a step forward. Your flashlight came up to late before you soccer ball kicked what looked like a Koala with numbers across the living room.

The room was suddenly lit up like a disco ball. Children’s music and flashing lights of color danced across the darkness of the room. This time, your noise making was greeted by the sound of feet hitting the floor upstairs. You knew you had only a few seconds to retreat; to bolt your ass back out the door and make a run for it. If you did that though, the next time you came back, you wouldn’t have to worry about buying them a security system. He would have one here waiting for you.

With your decision halfway made you quickly turned off your flashlight. Your hands scrambled to remove the gloves off of your hands. It proved to be harder than expected because the damn things seemed to be constricted around each individual digit. You’d just got the last glove off, your hands shoving everything inside the sweater when you saw his legs and a bat come flying down the stairs. He was on the stoop before the last few steps when you shoved the hood off of your head and prayed you didn’t look as suspicious as you felt.

By the way he looked at you when he flicked the light on, you were doing a piss poor job. Using the bat he pointed it in your direction as he spoke, “What the fuck are you doing in my house?”

God, lord what in the fuck were you doing here?

His voice dripped heavily with sleep; it’s burr rich and throaty matching perfect with the rest of him. His bed head left patches of hair sticking in comical fashion in every direction. Unfortunately, that was the only comical thing about him.

Why had Li never mentioned her husband was so damn…hot? This was sinful. You were sinning with every second your eyes stayed on his bare chest or the way his pajama pants sat low on his hips making your brain have to wonder the painful question of, ‘is he wearing underwear or isn’t he?’

His left arm was covered in a sleeve of art. Every single piece was different from the last, but beautifully woven into the other. It was enough to accentuate the muscles there and offered you a very good reason to keep your eyes away from his chest…and the dips of his hip bones that peaked out from the top of his pajamas. His face should’ve been the best option, but it wasn’t. Jungkook was handsome. Devastatingly so. His features still held onto the boyish softness of his youth, but had chiseled away to expose the hardline of his jaw. His Cupid bow lips pouty and soft, his brow furrowed in apprehension that gave off a glint of a piercing on his left eyebrow. His big doe eyes open in challenge-

“I said, what - the fuck- are you - doing in my house?”

Jungkook kept the bat trained on you as he took the final steps down the stairs. He was waking up with every second you stood there being wicked and full of sin. You only had one option left and you moved to do it quickly.

Your hand dug quickly into the back pocket of your jeans and fished out Li’s letter. You moved to show it to him, hand open in surrender, before replying, “I have a key.”

I have a key?! Were you mental?

You closed your eyes in an attempt to pretend you hadn’t just said that. When you opened them, Jungkook was looking at you like how you felt: stupid.

“You have a key? To my house?”

“Li gave it to me. I’m - I’m y/n.” At either the mention of Li or your name, Jungkook began to soften. The hard set of his shoulders dropped, along with the bat, and the determination that glinted in his eyes was soon replaced by sadness. You liked it better when he wanted to hit you with the bat. “She asked me to check in on you guys-“

“And you figured in the cover of darkness was a good time to do that? You figured almost seven months after her death and missing birthdays - holidays - that this is the best time to finally show up?”

It wasn’t that he didn’t believe you. Jungkook probably didn’t. He had a point. You could’ve done what was left in the will in her request for you to be a godmother. Hell, you could’ve started the minute she’d asked you when she was dying.

Your mouth opened to reply. Whether it was a good or bad option you weren’t sure. Fortunately, you never got to voice it. A shrill cry of a baby cut through the silence and you watched as Jungkook became a whole other person. He hoped backwards towards the stairs, his bat now placed at its base, as he pointed at you.

“Stay right there.”

The smart ass told you to tell him to fuck off and leave. The other part of you, the one you knew was going to hell, was so enthralled by watching his body bound up the stairs you knew you’d stay. Yup. You were getting a first class ticket down under for drooling over your dead friend’s husband.

The crying didn’t cease whenever Jungkook got there. It just got louder. Unforgivably loud. Now you wanted to bolt out the door because, good lord, that creature had some pipes on it. You were starting to inch toward the door when the crying grew louder as he brought the baby down the stairs. If you were able to spontaneously combust in that moment you knew that it was possible. You could also see why Li continued to want to give the man babies.

He was holding Jeongsan tightly to him. His arms bounced him up and down to try and soothe him to no avail.

“I have to get him a bottle. Do you want some coffee?”

He brushed past you to head towards the kitchen and you went dumbstruck again. He just woke up. How the hell did he smell so good?

“Sorry, but being caught like a creep in the night makes the idea of coffee seem awkward.”

“Well, that’s too bad for you. I got some questions and, key or not, if you don’t want me calling the cops I suggest you take that offered cup of coffee.”

Damn. He was good. Jungkook wasn’t playing: he meant every word. The determination on his face told you plainly if you wanted to not write a report about this your ass better show up in the kitchen. You considered if writing said lengthy report along with impending desk duty was such a bad thing when you watched him turn and walk into the kitchen. His back fully on display and -

You let out a sigh. Your feet moving on their own accord towards the kitchen.

“I’ll have your offer of coffee only if you promise to put on a shirt.”