#lot more fucking handling if this case heads to the prosecution i mean. i mean

[theinfinitedivides]

DUI charges under investigation since that shit has now been classified as a motorbike and therefore is being treated like a crime committed behind the wheel of a car just as i suspected...............................

on the fucking scooter my brother...........................

[1960z]

so, case 3! holy shit dude. I feel insane right now.

so first to talk about contained narrative and not all the overarching stuff, I thought it was really great stuff. they managed to pack so much into this one without it feeling too busy. the individual characters are great. enoch drebber has so much depth to him for just a one off villain. he really is intimidating in a lot of ways. and throughout the 2nd trial day, you totally understand why he turned out the way he did. like of course he’d be angry, odie asmam ruined his fucking life and then continued to be a terrible person for a decade and got away with it.

courtney sithe was also fantastic. I loved getting to explore the idea of what if the most basic and taken for granted facts about the case were manipulated, and the person that gives you such fundamental information, aka the fucking autopsy, was actually the murderer. they set it up really well too, with non forensic personnel of scotland yard being disallowed from investigating the crime scene and that being a huge block - but also I wasn’t expecting it at ALL because I just assumed there was no way it could have anything to do with the actual murder itself but it did. it’s a reminder that these institutions don’t always have people’s best interests as well as the pervasive issue of forensic evidence often being treated as this inherently objective, never wrong smoking gun, when often it isn’t.

harebrayne was an amazing defendant too. I mean he was very likeable, a silly little guy if you will, but something great about his character is that he also brought more understated elements of van zieks’ character to the forefront through their previously established relationship. according to harebrayne, when he knew him van zieks was a very kind and compassionate person which is certainly not the current perception most people have of him as this literal demon prosecutor.

but also… when you look at a lot of van zieks’ actions up until this point that doesn’t actually seem that hard to square up. despite this intimidating and mean air he gives off, van zieks has always treated ryunosuke a lot more fairly to begin with than most AA prosecutors start out and has never tried to block the pursuit of truth with any decision he’s made in court. he says a lot of awful shit to ryunosuke granted, but his actual actions have never reflected any sort of mistreatment. there was always more there if you looked for it, and through his relationship with albert, that’s on full display here. he knew albert was innocent, he didn’t for a second doubt it which is why he headed the prosecution because that way he knew there would be no behind the scenes corruption, something we’re increasingly aware is a problem. and he didn’t go soft on the prosecution either, he still performed his duty to the highest ability, but he also trusted in ryunosuke to find the truth. it really brings out what kind of person he is

the overarching plot elements at play are also handled masterfully here, just enough is revealed for it to feel as if we were given some truly watershed moments but also there’s so much we still don’t know. like I said, I was expecting them to really drag out the kazuma stuff, but they didn’t and I’m actually really grateful for that, I think it works better that way. we’re not made to wait for the huge payoff we all want when he shows up, we get it at the end of the case and it’s done amazingly. but there’s still so may questions, particularly surrounding the why and how of it all that keep me hooked.

same with the professor and the reveal it was kazuma’s father, who was also studying as an exchange student at the same time as jigoku and yujin. I still have no idea what anyone’s end goal is yet, but I do now understand why they were being so cagey and protective.

overall, a fucking fantastic case I enjoyed my time with it so much and I can’t wait to get to case 4! here’s the updated tier list

[saibug1022]

A New Start

Word Count: 1.2k Magnus Bishop & Wind Velez A/N: I've already written multiple things for the Windverse yet here I am not posting any of it like an idiot. For those unaware, Into the Windverse is a connected universe that started with @oh-so-youre-a-nerd's LoA MC Wind Velez and evolved to include @aces-and-angels's MC Enid and my MC Magnus. aces-and-angels wrote about how Magnus got fired and selected for recruitment but this is how he GOT recruited.

Magnus had been through a lot in his life, and despite how they may have damaged him, he'd always been able to hold onto his sanity.

But this boredom may be what finally cracked him.

He had just slammed his laptop closed upon seeing another email from Richard Jensen in his inbox when his phone started vibrating in his pocket. Great, that would definitely improve his mood. His hearing aids were on the other side of his apartment and he did not care enough about this unidentified number to go get them so he just set his phone on the counter and turned on the transcription before answering. 

“Who is this?” Magnus said, not bothering to hide the irritation in his tone. There was a slight pause as the person on the other end spoke, the phone processed, and typed out what they'd said.

‘Uh, is this Magnus Bishop?’

“Who. Is. This?”

‘My name is Wind Velez,’ The mystery person said, assuming Magnus's phone had spelled their name right. ‘I'm a senior associate with-’

“No, I'm not dealing with any more associates or paralegals Phineas sends after me, tell Richard they can fill their quota another way.”

Magnus reached to hang up but paused when he saw another line of text coming in that actually intrigued him.

‘No wait, I'm not with Jensen,’ Velez insisted. ‘I'm a senior associate with McGraw-Byrne.’

Magnus remembered that name getting tossed around a few times, mainly in jealous contempt or begrudging respect.

“The law firm in New York? The ones who took on that murder case with the actors last year?”

‘Yes! That's us!’

“Why the hell are you calling me?”

‘According to the news you handled the trial of Austin Morris lawsuit and then the DA had you prosecute him during the trial but by the end of the trial your firm completely severed your contract…how much of that is true?’

“You still aren't answering the why question,” Magnus sighed. 

‘Well we were hoping you'd consider an interview.’

“You're recruiting me?” Magnus blinked at his phone, wondering if it transcribed something wrong. 

‘Hoping to!’ Velez confirmed. ‘The firm will cover the price of your flight and a hotel room, and if you end up going back we'll cover your flight back too. And if you stick with us you get a seriously nice relocation package.’

“Right, uh huh,” Magnus rolled his eyes. “Because a high end firm is gonna go through that much effort to hire a junior associate.”

Why did everyone just assume he was completely stupid. Well, he knew why. He fucking hated it. It was literally the reason he'd pursued law in the first place, to fight against and change that shit. But of course the first time he made any progress or did anything significant he lost his job and what little power he had.

‘Associate?’ The text starting again pulled him from his pity party. Normally he wouldn't have indulged it even that long, but he hadn't exactly had anything else to do. ‘No, the job is junior partner.’

Partner. Partner. Was this real? He wished he'd grabbed his hearing aids just so he could hear if the person was lying. After years of fighting and scraping for any chance to prove himself only for it to mean nothing because of something literally skin deep. Here it was, just being offered to him.

‘Hello?’ Velez prompted him. ‘Did the call cut out? It keeps doing that, is your reception bad?’

“It's not reception,” Magnus shook his head. “It's my phone transcribing, I'm deaf.”

‘Oh shit, sorry,’ Velez said immediately. ‘Well now I look like an asshole.’

“Yeah you do,” Magnus agreed, even though it seemed like it was just an honest mistake.

‘Oh no, did I just ruin any chance of you coming to the interview.’

“Send me the information.”

‘Really?!’

“Did I stutter?”

‘Alright! Awesome, I'll send the ticket and everything to your email.’

“Don't get excited, I haven't said I'm coming.”

‘Whatever you say.’

Magnus rolled his eyes again and hung up the call without another word. He opened his laptop and within a few minutes he got the email with all the attachments. Damn, this Velez was thorough. Everything was in one email instead of scattered between 50 emails like some people. 

As Magnus read over the info about McGraw-Byrne he drummed his fingers on the counter top, using the rhythm of the feeling process his scattered thoughts for him. The offer was tempting. Very tempting. Which was how he knew he wasn't going to take it.

Offers like this were always too good to be true. There was always a loophole or some way around the contract. Or even more likely, he'd show up to the interview only for them to go with another person. Chances were they'd already picked someone else and just had to give more interviews for appearances. Filling quotas. 

Magnus sighed and reached to close his laptop again but his eyes fell on a picture he kept on the counter. It wasn’t in the greatest shape. It was a miracle it was still visible at all. That picture had been through just as much as he had. 

It was a picture of a toddler version of him, the only picture of himself from before transitioning he could stand to look at. He was on a young Vivian's shoulders shrieking and grabbing at her head while she laughed. On either side of them, one holding him up and one keeping Vivian from falling, were his parents. Not any of his foster parents, his real parents. The one who had actually loved him. He didnt remember much about them. His first memory was sitting in that courtroom after having to testify about his own parents’ murder and watching their murderer smirk as he was sentenced to only five years in prison. All the stories he knew were from Vivian. It still felt like there was a constant hole in his chest.

He had his Mama's smile. Not that he used it much these days. She was smiling so brightly in that picture. The only picture of them he had.

“Dont look at me like that,” Magnus muttered. “I know, I know, you want the best for me and want me to grow. Vivi's said it countless times. But I'm sick of being humiliated. I don't know how much longer I can go on like this.”

The words hung empty, neither parent nor son hearing them. Magnus sat and stared at the picture in silence, as if he expected his dad to appear on the stool next to him and starting talking about never knowing until you try. Maybe if he could remember their voices he'd even be able to imagine it. 

But he didn't remember their voices. And the picture remained frozen. The hole grew a little bit bigger.

“Damn it,” Magnus sighed.

He got up and went to his bedroom. He needed to pack. His flight left in the morning.

[jooniyah]

Poison Apple : The Second

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Fem Reader ; Min Yoongi x Fem Reader

AU: Yandere!au, Moneylender!Taehyung

Genre: Angst, Mature, Smut rated R

Warnings: NON CON, Hard Yandere behavior, kidnapping, implied forced pregnancy, emotional abuse, violence, blackmail, character death, voluntary starvation, degradation and physical abuse, slapping, cum play, manipulation, profanity, smut, blood, knives, guns, assassins, and murder.

Word count: 22.91 K

Disclaimer:  This is a work of fiction and I do not condone any of the actions of the characters in this fiction. This is to be treated as pure fantasy, and should not be misconstrued to be demeaning the idols in any way. If any of the above warnings cause you discomfort, kindly refrain from reading.

This is a non-consensual setting, please proceed only if you are not triggered by the warnings. All warnings for Chapter 1 apply. I repeat, please be sure to read all the warnings carefully.

Author’s note:  This is the second chapter of the Poison Apple Trilogy. Please make sure to read Part 1 before proceeding. 

Chapter 1   |    Chapter 2 

The man clad in black adjusted the scope of his M107 rifle, making sure his reticle was in perfect position. As he waited for his target, he did a quick sweep of the terraces of the adjacent buildings. No one was about. A faint slippery sheen of dew covered the cracked floors of the terrace he was positioned on. Any time now. He looked at the neon digits glowing on his watch.

Overhead, his skilled ears could pick out the droning of an approaching airplane. His skin felt clammy, possibly due to the side effect of his beta-blockers. Well, he’d finish the job and go have a well-earned vacation. Cold hands weren’t a big side effect, not when his pills gave him razor-sharp precision at shooting. The gangway of the cruise liner was slowly opened to allow passengers on board. The time had come.

He carefully combed his eyes through the influx of passengers, seeking the one face he was looking for. He didn’t even need to take the photo out of his pocket. He had committed the face to memory. And no disguise could fool him, he was ready for everything the target might try to pull off.

Time ticked on. People were walking on the gangway, boarding the ship, waving to their loved ones. But the target was not to be found anywhere. The described person hadn’t arrived, and the sniper had assumed that he could catch the target on the gangway. But as his professional eyes raked through the humans on board, he knew he was wasting his time. He remained in position, watching on as the ship sounded the final horn before gliding smoothly out onto the sea. He dialed the only number on his burner phone.

“Yes?” The tone sounded shrill and eager.

“A no-show. I repeat, it was a no-show.”

“What? Are you sure you didn’t miss-“?

“I never miss a target.”

There was a deep frustrated sigh.

“Fine. Abort and return.”

The sniper proceeded to pack up his gear and prepared to leave.

On the other end of the line, the figure exhaled sharply, muttering curses and bemoaning the failure. Just then, a dark outline materialized in the doorway, causing the figure to jump up, body numb with defeat.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“I won’t repeat my question again, Mrs.Min.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Then, answer me.”

You remained motionless, staring at the hard-grey table, fingers interweaved.

“Well?” The officer raised his voice, rapping on the table.

“I told you the truth.”

The man scoffed, leaning back in his chair.

“Listen, lady. You know your story sounds shit stupid, right?”

Your voice broke into a whisper.

“But it is true.”

He rolled his eyes. When he spoke again, his voice was dripping with sarcasm.

“Mr. Kim killed your husband? For you? He’s obsessed with you?”

“Yes.”

“You are giving yourself way too much credit, lady.”

You gritted your teeth, refusing to look at him. He clicked his tongue.

“Well, if your absurd story is true, where is your husband’s body?”

“I don’t know.”

He tsked under his breath. “So what proof do you have to tie Mr.Kim to this alleged murder?”

“None.”

He got up abruptly, shaking his head in irritation. He pointed a finger at you.

“You’re wasting my time. And for the record, Mr.Kim has been nothing but helpful in this investigation.”

You slowly raised your head. “What? What did he say?”

“Do you good to hear it and weave another absurd story, wouldn’t it?”

You watched him hesitate at the door, his hand resting on the handle. “If you are so innocent, Mrs. Min, why didn’t you report your husband missing?”

An angry fuse went off in your brain.

“Why would I report him missing, if he was already dead?”

“Can you afford an attorney, Mrs.Min?”

“I-What?”

The officer stared at you, pursed his lips, and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

The court-appointed attorney was a tall, curvy woman in her early thirties. She looked calm and had an air of high maintenance about her. You wondered how she could have accepted to defend you. Maybe the woman did pro-bono work. She probably had rich clients. Rich. You were once rich. When Yoongi was alive. Yoongi. A bitter feeling coursed through your heart.

Another detective accompanied the officer who had previously interrogated you. They settled across you and the attorney, scraping chairs on the floor as they took their seats.

“Well, Mrs. Min,” the officer began, “we understand you have mortgaged all your property.”

“Yes.”

“So, what happened to the money?” The officer flicked through papers on a clipboard. “50 million dollars, wasn’t it?”

The second detective pushed himself forward. “More importantly, where is your husband?”

A dull throb started in your temples and seared across your skull. You could shout yourself hoarse that Yoongi was dead, but none of these people would believe you.

When he received no reply, the detective persisted.

“You got rid of him because you wanted the money to yourself, didn’t you?”

The attorney interjected in a harsh tone.

“My client will not answer that.”

“You hid the money someplace, so you could go and retrieve it later.”

“Officer, you will not harass my client like this.”

“I won’t, if she agrees to speak the truth.”

The woman turned to you; harsh impatience evident on the curl of her lips.

“Not a word, Y/N.”

You nodded weakly. You had told everything to the cops already. No one believed in you, not one soul believed that Kim Taehyung murdered Min Yoongi to obtain you. It was nightmarish to go on a walk, people threw such malicious looks your way. What had you ever done to deserve this?

The officers poked and prodded for some more time, and finally packed their papers and left. While you walked out of the interrogation room, your attorney asked you to join her for lunch. You attempted to decline; you weren’t in the mood for lunch. Or anything for that matter.

But you had nowhere to return to, except straight into Taehyung’s world. It was better to prolong the journey back. Besides, the attorney told you that she wanted to discuss a few case details with you over lunch. Automatically, your feet started following her.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

The minute you sat down to lunch, you understood that it was a ruse. She neither ordered food for herself nor did she suggest you to. As soon as the waiter turned, she dipped her head low and spoke rapidly:

“I hear that they are bringing in a solid witness to testify against you.”

The surprise caught you off-guard.

“But I didn’t do anything. What is the person going to testify about?”

“That you knew Yoongi was mortgaging your property and you jumped on the opportunity to get the money.”

“But that’s insane! I never-“

There was a haughty roll of her eyes that sparked bitter anger in you. She looked at you as if you were kidding.

“Oh, come on, doll. You can tell me the truth. I’m the only person you can trust.”

Her judging gaze made you want to punch her in the face.

“You think I – I am guilty? You don’t trust me?” Your tone grew louder and a few people turned to glance at you. “Why the hell did you agree to defend me then?”

“Pipe down,” she hissed, looking around herself self-consciously. “They have a witness and a story that sounds better than yours.”

“And that means I’m guilty? Because my story sounds ridiculous?”

She shrugged as if she didn’t care. She took her phone out, swiping on it mindlessly. There was nothing except for the clink of glasses and cutlery around you before she spoke again.

“I want you to consider a plea deal.”

“And why would I, when I’m clearly not guilty?” You folded your hands defiantly, surveying her with a hard stare.

“This is not a simple Missing Person search. You are a person of interest in this case as a possible murderer.”

“They haven’t yet found the body.” Your tongue had a metallic taste when you uttered the word.

“Yet.” She let the words sink in. “But they have proof that you stole the money.”

“Stole? That’s my husband’s money! I was taking it to save him.”

“You know what, Y/N? This story is so silly. You are going overboard with the obsession angle.” She leaned back and lit a cigarette. “You know what really happened?”

She paused and exhaled smoke in your direction, tilting her head to look at you more closely.

“You knew your husband owed Kim Taehyung money. You urged him to mortgage your property. He was probably unwilling. So, you pledged all your property and got the money. The money was in your house. It was easy cash. Min Yoongi was anyway going to be penniless after that, so-“

“Stop it!” Your scream turned a lot of heads.

“Allow me to finish.”

“No, stop it! Stop it right now!”

She smirked lazily. “-So why lose the cash and end up with him? It’s easy, you killed him and took off with the money. You stashed the money and never intended to show up again. Not before someone reported Yoongi missing, that is.”

“It wasn’t like that! You are fucking wrong!”

She blew a smoke ring, not minding your distress in the least. “But that is what the prosecution is bringing to court. And they have a witness who saw you lugging all the money and fleeing the house in your nightclothes.” She paused to laugh. “Couldn’t wait to even get properly dressed?”

Her phone chimed, and she looked down. Just as quickly, she grabbed her coat and briefcase, making haste to get out. You stood up to follow, but she laid a hand on your shoulder and sat you down again.

“He’ll be coming now. Remember what I said, the prosecutor’s going to have a field day with your story.”

She was out of earshot even before you could frame the words: “He? Who?”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

You knew who was walking towards you before you even saw his face. Him. The man who had killed your husband. The man who you were trying to prolong going back to. Kim Taehyung.

He weaved his way through the tables at the restaurant, reaching your side like a piece of metal drawn to a magnet. He took his Aviators off, mussing his dark bangs out of his eyes as he sat down opposite you.

You got up to leave, and his hand shot through the air to grip your forearm.

“Sit down, honey.” His face was open and pleasant, but his eyes were unreadable. “You haven’t had lunch yet.”

The grip tightened, and you settled back down, a scowl on your face as you did so. You never dulled your scorching glare while he called the waiter and ordered food. After the waiter left, he turned to you.

“It’s been two weeks since it happened, Y/N. How much longer do you want me to wait?”

Tears pricked your eyes. Two weeks before, you had kissed Yoongi in Taehyung’s basement for what you hadn’t known would be the last time ever. You had been taken to another cottage of Taehyung’s after it happened. You had refused to eat or talk; you had been consumed in grief. Suddenly, a day ago, Wo Bin had tossed you in a car, and he had dropped you off at a hotel room. That same afternoon, the cops had found you and taken you in for questioning.

“Y/N?” Taehyung’s deep voice broke into your thoughts. “I’m talking to you.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I want you.”

“I’d rather go to prison; I’ll at least be free from your clutches.”

He snickered, flashing a boxy smile at you. If you didn’t know better, you’d call that an innocent grin. He leaned towards you, the smile still turning up the corners of his mouth.

“You? In prison? Oh , baby, that’s not a place for a princess like you.” His gaze dropped down before he looked into your eyes again. “Especially a pregnant princess.”

He watched the way your face twisted. The waiter brought the food, laying down the plates swiftly before you. Taehyung smiled at him in amiable politeness, waited for him to leave and resumed without missing a beat:

“You will have to give birth in prison, you’ll lose your baby after 18 months anyway. You don’t have relatives, so your baby will most definitely go into the system for foster care. Do you want that?”

You had no answer. You hadn’t thought of it ever happening, to be honest.

“It’s also possible you’ll be sentenced to many long years in prison. By the time you get out, your baby would be an adult.”

He saw the way your lips trembled as you digested the facts he was presenting. He bent down and sipped a spoonful of his soup. You looked at his bent head, weighing your options.

“It’s better than-“

Before you could say any further, he cut you short, raising his hand.

“I must say I look forward to adopting your baby.”

He grinned smoothly as he saw you sputter in dismay. God, you were so cute.

“What? Why would you? You don’t care about Yoongi’s baby.”

“Well, true, but the baby is part bastard and part angel. I like to focus on the fact that half of you will be with me as I await your return.”

He slurped the noodles in his soup with a flourish. “I can pull some strings to get the baby assigned to me.” He wiped his mouth with a tissue delicately, watching you the entire time.

“Don’t make me hate you even more, Kim Taehyung.”

He reached over the table, trying to take your hand, but you flicked it away. He sighed and shook his head.

“Eat up, Y/N. That attorney of yours kept you waiting without even offering food.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. She was probably working for him. He seemed to have a lot of people wound around his little finger. Except you. You fell silent, eating without looking up once.

The table was silent until he cleared his throat.

“I want you to think all this through and decide if you want me to help you.”

You scoffed at him. “Help me? How? Do you own the Justice Department too?”

He looked unfazed. A tiny smile played on his lips. “Eat and we’ll talk at the hotel.”

You fell silent again, but the question wormed its way out of your mouth despite your control.

“Why am I staying in that hotel? You didn’t take me to your house.”

“Because you mortgaged your house, you ran away with the money, and I don’t know you apart from the occasional meetings in the elite parties. In the past, when poor Mr. Min was alive, of course.”

“You don’t know me? Are you fucking kidding me, Taehyung?”

His boxy smile returned. Though these were not exactly favorable circumstances, the fact that you were so prettily angry made his heart warm. You were mad at him because he said he didn’t know you? A small jealous part of his heart sang in joy. Even if those words were uttered with hate, he was certain you would love him if you got to know him better. Until then, the subtle undercurrent would have to suffice.

“Like I said, we’ll talk about this at the hotel, Y/N.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

When you reached the hotel room, Taehyung opened the door, motioning for you to go in.

“After you, my darling.”

Once you were inside, he took off your coat, brushing his fingers against your bare arms, his fingertips leaving goosebumps in their wake. You could hear him sigh heavily behind you, and you spun around to face him.

“Get on with it.”

He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “You mean, get on with making love to you?”

You swatted the hand that was ghosting your shoulder, your tone drenched in spite.

“You know what I meant, Taehyung. What the hell were you talking about at the restaurant?”

He pouted his lips and his face fell. “Oh. That.” He sighed again, walking over to the bed.

He sat down, patting the bed to indicate that you were supposed to sit down too. When you didn’t comply, he yanked you by the arm, making you sit in his lap. A hand reached to your side to pinch you in case you squirmed. By then, you knew better than to resist. He rested the side of his head on your shoulder, whistling softly.

“Baby, you’re going to be sent away for a long time.”

“For what? Don’t play your games with me, Kim Taehyung.”

He turned you so you were facing him. There was animation in his eyes, so unlike the usual blank stare. It looked almost as if he were sad.

“You’re going to be tried for the murder of your husband.”

You tried to jump up, and a sharp pinch stilled you into position. “But I didn’t kill him.”

He used his free hand to brush away the tears, his touch feathery light and exceptionally gentle.

“Even if they don’t find the body, there’s a lot of evidence for reasonable doubt, and that’s enough for the jury.”

A sudden tic made your lips tremble. He held you patiently, waiting for it to subside.

“What evidence?”

His eyes softened.

“Some blood. DNA.” He watched your expression as he added: “The fact that you mortgaged the property, got the money, and fled.”

“But I didn’t-” Your brows furrowed for a second before it struck you. “Bong Ju.”

He nodded without answering. He watched you work things out in your mind. He always admired your smartness. But after Yoongi died, you had become kind of slow at thinking through stuff. He wished you would get better quickly so he could pounce on you.

“So, what happens next? You kill my husband, put me in prison, and then take my child?”

He didn’t say anything, quietly looking at the beaded tears on the corners of your eyes.

“I can help you. I can make it all go away.”

Something made you squirm on his lap. To your utter horror, you discovered what it was. You hit his jaw, making him gasp. Pushing yourself off of his lap, you screamed, boiling with rage.

“You’re hard? This is making you hard? What kind of sick bastard are you?”

The scream didn’t have any effect on him. He kept staring at you, eyes burning with primal hunger. Watching you stand before him, face red in anger and nose flaring, made him feel things.

His voice was soft, almost inaudible. “You do that to me.” He reached out to grasp your hand again, and pulled you down so you were almost straddling him.

“Listen Y/N. You have made me wait long enough. I will say this only once, so you better pay attention.”

You struggled in his arms, trying to get away from him. But a hand firmly cupped your jaw and pulled you close to his face.

“Fucking. Listen.”

You nodded wordlessly, and he relaxed his hold on your jaw.

“Two scenarios. One, plead guilty and go to prison. They’ll try you for the murder too. Two, plead innocent and still go to prison. I’ve planted enough evidence to support both scenarios. And you’ll lose the baby in both cases.”

He looked at you chastely, eyes wide and sincere.

“I have both the prosecutor and the defense attorney ready to handle it either way. Any proof of your innocence turns up, your attorney will quash it down. She is very thorough. Your friend Jung Hoseok is already being watched.”

“You bought both the prosecutor and the attorney?”

“Money, baby. It’s what drives them all.”

“And? You want me to dance to your tune, don’t you? What is it?”

He smiled again, and the smile reached his eyes.

“Three, you walk away from all this. Innocent. Your baby lives.”

“In exchange for what?”

His eyes sparkled, and his hands softly squeezed the side of your hips.

“Marry me.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“What do you want, Se Jong?”

The man perched on the hood of the car didn’t flinch.

Wo Bin exhaled in irritation. He had other pressing matters to deal with. He had errands to run for his boss. The white folded paper was still in his pocket, making his mind itch to get on with it. The boss had given him the paper and asked him to find the man matching what was written on it. Strange order, but his boss probably had his reasons. He shook the thoughts away and focused on the man who was eating his time.

“Unlike you, I have work to do, Se Jong. Spit it out.”

The man addressed as Se Jong shrugged his shoulders, leaning back lazily on the car’s windshield.

“I don’t know man.”

Wo Bin ground his teeth.

“Why did you ask to meet me then?”

“I want more.”

“You already get more than enough.”

“Not as much as you do.”

Wo Bin’s nose flared. Having served in the military, it always hurt his pride to be compared to a civilian goon.

“I am not a bank robber like you, Se Jong. You’re not even a good shot. It’s a mystery why the boss still has you around.”

It was already a known fact that Kim Taehyung only employed the best of the best.  Wo Bin often wondered what a dimwit like Se Jong was doing in his Taehyung’s fleet.

“Banker. How do you think the boss stashes his money if he doesn’t have people in the bank pulling strings for him?”

“Get to the point, Jong.”

“I said it already I want more. I want you to talk to the boss for me.”

“Consider it never done.”

Wo Bin turned his back and stormed away, leaving the man on the car seething in anger. Little did he know that Se Jong wasn’t as harmless as he seemed.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

The courtroom was jam-packed. Your attorney had told you that the first sitting was just to warm the jury up to the facts of the case. But the sheer number of people in the gallery made you feel intimidated. Well, it was a case concerning the Min family. More importantly, Min Yoongi’s wife was on trial.

The prosecutor, Kang Minsook, made his opening statements, addressing the jury and accusing you of grand larceny. You watched on, neurons firing in your brain, as the prosecutor spun a splendidly woven tale of how you married Yoongi for money, felt cheated when he fell into debt, decided it was time to take the money for yourself, and fled.

Kim Taehyung was seated in the spectator area, dressed in his best of blacks, watching on as the prosecutor piled wrong information, wrapping up the lies smoothly with a few bits of truth so that it looked dirty, but believably so.

Your attorney made her opening statements, but they fell flat in front of the prosecutor’s powerful story of lies. One glance at the jury told you that none of them were buying the version of the case that the defense was presenting.

The judge turned to you.

“Mrs. Min, in this accusation of grand larceny, how do you plead?”

Your eyes swept over the jury. No soft glances were aimed towards you. You then looked at Taehyung, sitting with an air of regality as if he were presiding over the courtroom. Stretching yourself to your full height, you replied quietly:

“Not guilty, your Honor.”

A smile slowly spread across Taehyung’s lips.

The prosecutor was on his feet as soon as he got permission to start.

“I’d like to call the prosecution’s first witness, your Honor.”

You strained to see who was the witness. A tall man you knew only too well rose from the bench and took the witness stand. It was surely not the bald man you were expecting to see.

“Mr. Kim, please state your name and occupation for the sake of the court.”

The man looked straight ahead, flexing the muscles in his jaw. It made him look arrogant, giving off vibes of a man not to be messed with.

“I am Kim Namjoon. I’m the Executive Director of Park and Kim Motors Inc.”

“And how were you related to Mr. Min?”

“We were family friends.”

“Please elaborate on the nature of your relationship, Mr. Kim.”

The witness gazed at Minsook, and suddenly his eyes wore a brooding look.

“Min Yoongi and I were friends through our parents’ societal ties. I used to play Chess every evening with Yoongi before he got engaged.”

“So, your friendship with Mr. Min goes long back.” The prosecutor stopped to wipe his spectacles, leaving you wondering what he was up to.

“May I ask, Mr. Kim, as to why you stopped playing Chess with Mr. Min after his engagement?”

Your counsel shot to her feet.

“Objection, your Honor. The prosecutor is wasting the court’s time with irrelevant questions.”

Minsook looked at the judge with surprised eyes.

“But it is a relevant question, your Honor.”

“Overruled.”

Smiling broadly in a way that made your insides turn, the man turned again to his witness.

“Well, Mr. Kim?”

Kim Namjoon stared at you, so much malice concentrated in his eyes.

“His fiancée didn’t want me spending too much time with Yoongi.”

There was a pause. And then with a condescending tone, the next question was thrown:

“Maybe there was an innocent reason, Mr. Kim? Maybe the defendant wanted all the attention to herself?”

Once again, your counsel stood up with a loud “Objection, speculation, your Honor.”

“Sustained.”

With a wicked grin, the prosecutor threw a careless apology to the judge, looking at the witness expectantly.

“I don’t know. But now I know she wasn’t as innocent as she seemed.”

“Why exactly do you say that, Mr. Kim?”

Namjoon glared at you again.

“She didn’t even bother to search for Yoongi. She ran away.”

The prosecutor took a sealed evidence bag in his hand, turning so he was facing both the witness and the jury.

“And who filed the Missing Person report about Mr. Min?”

“I did. She didn’t. Because she was too busy counting the money.”

“Objection!”

“The prosecution will advise their witness not to make assumptive statements.”

But the damage had already been done.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

You sat and listened as your husband’s best friend told the court how Yoongi had been increasingly agitated in the months prior to his disappearance.

“He was in so much trouble, it was clear as day,” he said.

“And did he tell you what was bothering him, Mr. Kim?”

Namjoon clenched his jaw again. “He was missing his mother very badly.”

The wicked gleam in Minsook’s eyes returned.

“What happened to his mother, Mr. Kim?”

“His mother had been institutionalized. His wife and mother were not on good terms. It broke Yoongi’s heart to part with his mother like that.”

“So, Mr. Min’s wife sent her mother-in-law away?”

The jury watched Namjoon affirm that with a curt “Yes.” Your attorney made no attempt to object. Things were beginning to look dark for you.

“Why do you think the elder Mrs. Min was sent away, Mr. Kim?”

The judge waited for your counsel to object citing speculation. But she made no move. With a withering glance, the judge advised the defense to not indulge in speculation.

The question was rephrased with a sly grin.

“What did Mr. Min tell you about his mother being sent away?”

Namjoon looked at the jury with sincere eyes.

“He said that his wife was in danger because of his mother. Mrs. Min accused her mother-in-law of trying to stab her with a knife.”

“Did Mr. Min say that the accusation was correct?”

“He only arrived in time to separate them. So, there’s no proof of who instigated the fight.”

Your palms started sweating. A delicate web of lies was being spun around you, and the spider at the center of it all sat watching with quiet enthusiasm.

“Did you know that Mr. Min was in huge financial debt?”

Taehyung watched the witness shake his head, followed by a curt “No.” He slid his hand to his pocket where his phone buzzed. There was a single message on the notification shade.

“Done.”

He looked back at the man who was talking, turning his phone’s display off and allowing himself a smile.

The prosecutor was going on.

“Why didn’t Mr. Min confide in you, if you were such close friends? He could have even borrowed from you.”

Namjoon shifted in his seat, his thick brows crumpling slightly as he processed the question.

“I don’t remember exactly, but I heard in passing that his wife shopped extravagantly. I assume it was his wife who wrung him dry. So, he was probably unable to confide in me about his wife.”

The prosecutor beamed.

“Naturally.”

Your attorney interrupted with an objection citing speculation, which was sustained.

At that, the prosecutor produced another plastic bag of evidence.

“These are the receipts that prove Mrs. Min purchased exquisite jewels, your Honor.” He flourished the bag at the jury, eyes bright with emotion. “Each purchase cost more than the previous one, amounting to millions of dollars.”

Wearing a proud smile, the prosecutor thanked the witness and gave your attorney the nod to cross-examine the witness. The woman slowly got up, adjusting her robes as she approached the witness box.

“Let me start with the easiest question, Mr. Kim.” Her face took on an innocent expression. “Wasn’t Mr. Min already very rich? Why would he ever get into debt? He already owned the Min Group.”

Namjoon looked at her in confusion. “He didn’t own the Min Group. His father did.”

“The late Mr. Min?”

“Yes. Yoongi was only the executive director of the Min Group until his father died.”

You watched your attorney look suddenly uncomfortable. You didn’t understand the need for this line of questioning. The jury looked confused too. Until the next question tore through the silence.

“How did the late Mr. Min die, Mr. Kim?”

“He was involved in a car accident. He died of multiple organ failure.”

“So, both of Mr. Min’s parents were out of the picture shortly after he married the defendant?”

You couldn’t believe your ears. Was your own attorney suggesting that-?

“Yes.” Namjoon’s voice interrupted the thoughts racing through your mind.

The judge looked sharply at your counsel. Was she out of her mind, to hand such an insinuating lead to the prosecution?

“Are you going anywhere with this, counsel?”

Your attorney nervously bit her lip.

“No, your honor.”

She turned to Namjoon.

“Couldn’t the defendant have purchased the jewels even when the elder Mr. Min was alive?”

Namjoon wondered if this woman had even researched her case properly. What kind of attorney gave away their client like this in court? He looked at you, weighing his words.

“Mr. Min handled all the finance of the Min family. Yoongi could have bought her the jewels, yes, but his father had to okay any big expenses he made.”

“I see. Thank you, Mr. Kim.”

Namjoon was excused from the witness stand. You were in utter disbelief. You were being framed. By your own attorney. Taehyung was right. You were going to prison.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

 You couldn’t bring yourself to munch the sandwich that was before you. It was court recess, and your attorney was by your side, eating busily. She was completely oblivious of your apparent resentment towards her.

“How could you give me away like that?”

She looked up; eyebrows raised.

“Like what?”

You had to control yourself from shouting at the top of your lungs. Clutching the table hard, you rocked yourself, trying to be calm.

“You almost accused me of killing my father-in-law.”

She rolled her eyes with a blank “Eh.” On seeing you intensify the burning stare; she grumblingly munched the last bit of her steak.

“You’re already on your way to prison, dearie. Nothing I say or don’t is gonna help you.”

“You are my fucking lawyer!”

A few lawyers seated on the adjacent table murmured in disapproval in your general direction.

“Mind your fucking business!” You shouted at them, eyes blazing in anger. The woman clucked her tongue in disapproval.

“That temper won’t help. Don’t incriminate yourself even more. I did tell you to accept a plea deal, Y/N.”

Three tables away from yours, Kang Minsook was seated with his associates, deep in discussion.

“Something about this case makes me feel weird,” an associate was saying. “Why would the defense point out the senior Mr. Min’s accident? It only makes sense if we do. What is that attorney up to?”

Far back in the cafeteria, Taehyung sipped a cold strawberry milkshake as he watched you. Ugh. He had to endure the disgusting milkshake just for you. For you. Yes, he would do anything for you. But the obvious artificial strawberry flavoring was almost too much. You would pay later for making him drink such cheap stuff.

As his juniors droned on about the case, Minsook glanced over at your gloomy figure staring down at the table. It made him wonder how you were going to handle what was coming next.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

You were sure you were going to be called up for cross-examination as soon as the court was in session. Bunching the hem of your skirt tight, you bent your head in apprehension. They were going to call out your name. They were going to prove that you killed Yoongi. They were going to send you to prison. Your knuckles tightened around the fabric, the dampness of your palm transferring onto it.

“The prosecution summons Mr. Kim Taehyung, your Honor.”

All the fear in the world rolled into one tight ball that got caught in your throat. Taehyung was going to testify?

The black-haired man took confident strides as he made his way to the witness stand. Everything about him suggested a successful, genuine, and well-respected man. The ladies in the gallery murmured about how rare it was to see not one but two families in the elite circle pitted against each other. The thumping of your heart was so loud and deafening. Taehyung composed himself with a sincere look in his dark eyes.

“Please state your name and occupation for the sake of the court.”

He raked his eyes through the jury. “I am Kim Taehyung. I am the CEO of Kim Automotive LLC.”

Minsook considered the witness carefully.

“What kind of relationship do you have with the Min family?”

“We were both rich families.” Taehyung masked the bitterness in his voice. “We met at social gatherings.”

“Do you know the defendant?”

“Yes.” The answer was abrupt, leaving unsaid words hanging in the air. The prosecutor pressed on.

“How do you know her?”

Taehyung batted his thick eyelashes innocently, looking square into the eyes of Minsook.

“She came to me trying to pledge the Min estate.”

There was a sharp gasp from the spectators and the low murmuring started to grow louder before the judge pounded his gavel.

The prosecutor waited for all the hushed voices to completely dribble down into sharp silence before asking the burning question:

“The defendant sought you out by herself?”

You closed your eyes lest someone see the beaded drops that were threatening to fall. All the memories of what happened half an hour ago flashed in your mind in full throttle.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

You had been walking back to the benches outside the courtroom, when a man bumped into you, causing you to gasp out loud. As you clutched your shoulder and glared crossly at the retreating figure, you noticed chewing gum on your suit. Wincing in disgust, you tried to peel it off when you noticed a small neatly folded bit of paper sticking to it. You opened it, only to find four words written on the slip.

‘Barristers’ chambers No. 3. -KTH’

Turning just in time, your eyes caught Taehyung as he slowly watched you and walked ahead, leading the way.

── ⋆✩⋆ ──

“Well, sugar? Ready to change your mind yet?” were the words that greeted you upon entering the chambers.

The blinds were drawn, lending a dark ambiance to the room. Taehyung was half-leaning on the table, supporting the weight of his body on both his arms. He watched you, fascinated by the pencil skirt and the tailored suit jacket that fit you so well. It was a shame that you had to go through all the court drama. The worry on your forehead made him want to reach over and kiss all the tension away. Only if you let him. He sighed.

He pushed himself off the table, reaching you in determined strides, his face alight with emotion. With an arrogant flick of his wrist, he crooned in his deep voice:

“20 more minutes before the court is in session, darling.”

His long fingers gripped your jacket, pulling you into his chest. The fingers roamed on your person, finding purchase at the nape of your neck. The heat of his body accompanied by the firm grip of his fingers left you frozen in place.

Taehyung rang his tongue over his upper lip, curling his mouth in a suggestive smirk.

“So, yes or no?”

“I- How can you make it all go away?” your voice came in a bare whisper.

“Baby, I always get my way. Do you still doubt what I’m capable of?”

He nuzzled his forehead against yours, sighing deeply in content. His eyes fluttered closed, the steady rise and fall of his chest falling in rhythm with yours.

“So? What is it? Endure me, or spend a lifetime in prison wondering what I did with your child?”

“Plea-“

His finger shushed your lips, stopping you from saying anything he didn’t want to hear. His eyes were still closed, but there was a soft smile kindling in the corners of his lips.

“18 minutes left, Y/N. Say it. Yes or No?”

Your mind was a maze of emotions. Say yes and live with Taehyung? The man who killed your husband? You’d have to be insane to do that. Say no and go to prison? What would you do without your baby? Why did all of this happen? Where exactly did you go wrong? Why were you trapped in a room with your husband’s killer draped all over your bosom?

“15 minutes.”

A giant sob rocked your body, tears streaming down your face as you spat it out:

“Yes.”

His eyes opened slowly, a euphoric smile making his face glow in radiance. You could have sworn there was a glossy film on his eyes that suspiciously resembled tears.

“Oh Y/N. I love you.”

He peppered soft kisses on your cheeks and nose, leaning back reflexively at the wetness of your cheeks.

“Why the tears, my sweet?” He brushed the trickling tears with the tip of his thumb. “Anyone would think you hate the idea of marrying me.”

When he didn’t get a reply, his eyes went from soft to dangerous in one quick flash. He leaned over you so that you were arching yourself backward, his hand supporting the small of your back securely. He made as if to kiss your jaw, but flicked his tongue out instead. His hot tongue swept over the trail left by the tears, licking your face from jaw to cheekbone in one long stroke.

His other hand gripped your squirming hips hard, the dangerous glint was fixated on your pupils as he continued his stroke above your eyes, stopping only momentarily when your eyes fluttered at the wet feeling of your lashes. He finished the trail at your eyebrow, landing a soft kiss on the arch of your eyebrow.

“No makeup,” he observed, looking deep into your eyes. “And just as beautiful as always. Delicious too. Pity you didn’t wear lipstick; I’d have loved to have your lip prints on my cock.”

His grip of your waist loosened, and you pushed yourself upright, shuddering all over. You tried to wipe off his saliva with the sleeve of your jacket, but his hand stopped you with a harsh jolt.

“Never, remember, never wipe off anything I give you.”

You glared at him, the sticky wetness still bothering you.

“You disgust me, Kim Taehyung.”

His eyes crinkled in delight. “Aw, I love you too, darling.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Taehyung considered the question, ruminating on his thoughts.

“Yes.”

Minsook chose his words carefully.

“Can you tell the court what Mrs. Min said, Mr. Kim?”

“She said ‘My husband is in debt and I want to mortgage our property. He doesn’t want anyone to know, so I came to you instead of going to his friends.’ She looked very upset. “

“And you didn’t talk to Mr. Min about this before agreeing to the request?”

Taehyung looked annoyed.

“I trusted Mrs. Min’s words.” It looked like referring to you by that title made him sick. “I didn’t want her husband to feel uncomfortable, especially because she said that he wanted it to be discreet.”

You felt bile rising to your chest as you watched the bastard stack lie upon lie as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

Minsook considered the witness closely before asking his next question.

“Do you have witnesses to corroborate your story, Mr. Kim?”

Taehyung simply smiled, his eyes briefly flitting over to you. He ran his tongue over his lips as if your taste was still on them.

“At least twenty of my staff were present when she arrived at my mansion.”

Wrong. There were more than 50 guys that day when you went to him, dragging a suitcase in your pajamas. Of course, they would testify against you. The case was going to be a nightmare to get out of.

Taehyung was excused in haste. Turning to the judge, Minsook spoke so fast that you almost couldn’t keep up with his flow.

“Your Honor, the state pleads more time to prove that the accused mortgaged the Min property, took the money- “he glanced at the jury with emotion “-and killed her husband to get rid of liabilities. We have enough evidence for reasonable doubt.”

He appealed to the jury with strong words, trying to rock them in his favor.

“An innocent man loses all his money, his wife flees, she never reports him missing, his house is a bloody mess, with blood matching his DNA all over the place. The police found one airplane ticket in the defendant’s personal effects. Just one. Not two, if she is to be believed.”

He let the magnitude of his allusion sink in before throwing the next bombshell.

“As the defense uncovered, the elder Mr. and Mrs. Min were conveniently removed from the defendant’s life. The defense also confirmed that the defendant alleged that her mother-in-law was a threat to her life and sent her away. This raises doubt into the elder Mr. Min’s tragic accident.”

You were shocked into silence; the pain was overwhelming. You felt like you were floating above your body, detached and dead from all the pain and hurt.

Minsook was going on.

“While we can’t definitively prove that the defendant was involved in it, we do have the responsibility of looking keenly into the case at hand to make sure that justice is served.”

There was a brief interruption as the side doors opened, and a man walked in, making straight to your attorney. He handed her a package, whispering into her ear. She immediately stood up and asked for permission to speak. All eyes were on her, and no one noticed the brief looks exchanged between Taehyung and the mysterious messenger. Except you, of course.

“Your Honor, the defense wishes to continue this hearing in camera.”

The judge peered over his glasses at the counsel.

“What is the necessity for it, please?”

You saw the defense attorney wave the package at the jury, addressing the judge and jury at the same time.

“We have proof that Min Yoongi is alive.”

What? You gasped in shock, the news bringing you back to reality and grounding you. The brief respite was replaced with deep hurt when you looked at Taehyung. His single raised eyebrow uttered the unsaid. He had gotten his way. Just like he had said he would.

A loud babble of voices broke out in the spectators’ area, the droning of voices so loud that the judge pounded the gavel furiously.

“And what proof is there to confirm this news?”

Your attorney passed a few pieces of paper over to the clerk.

“These are Min Yoongi’s shell company records that prove that he is in possession of the 50 million dollars, your Honor.” She passed on more papers. “This flight manifest shows that a passenger named Soo Yeongguk was on board, carrying a passport with the same name.”

“And?”

“These surveillance camera pictures show that it was Mr. Min who used a fake passport in the name of Soo Yeongguk to flee the country.”

Minsook sputtered, “But Your Honor, the blood and DNA,” he was wringing his hands, “He couldn’t have flown with those injuries.”

It was explained away by the defense as non-conclusive.

“Mr. Min could have easily planted his blood just like he did everything else to frame his wife, your Honor. There is no hard evidence that he bled to death. Or even died, for that matter.”

“Why has the defense wasted the court’s valuable time when all these facts were already known?”

“We only got confirmation of the false identity a few minutes ago, your Honor.”

The judge rose up to stand, and immediately the whole courtroom followed suit.

“This will be further discussed in camera.”

The judge turned and left, and both the prosecution and defense scurried to fetch their documents and hastened to the judge’s chambers. The bailiff escorted the jury and left.

There was pandemonium and confusion after they left. People were restless, talking in hushed tones about all the drama that had just happened. As for you, it was pure shock that kept you standing on your feet. Shock at how easily justice has been swayed.

It felt like you were treading clouds when you were taken into the judge’s chambers. How could they have cooked up all the proof? You saw your husband’s death with your own eyes. Was there not an inkling of sunshine at the end of the tunnel? Not a drop of justice in the universe?

You felt numb and empty as you stood watching the judge reprimand your counsel for wasting the court’s time and resources. He also fined the defense. You weren’t listening. You didn’t care. Because you were declared innocent. And condemned to marry Taehyung.

You didn’t stay back to see Taehyung and the judge shake hands in solidarity. Nor did you hear Taehyung whisper:

“Good show. Expect the money in one hour.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

The cold water pricking your skin did nothing to assuage the hurt eating away at your heart. The incessant flashes of the cameras as you exited the courtrooms, the reporters calling your name out, the overpowering smell of sweat and stale coffee, everything came back with such force that you squatted in the shower, hugging yourself.

You had come back to the hotel alone. No Taehyung. Because he apparently ‘didn’t know you that much.’ Snake. And you couldn’t find a way to escape him. He had kept his side of the bargain. You had to keep yours. The cold water was a far better company than the man outside your door.

“Y/N!” The knocks on the bathroom door were growing impatient. “Come on out already.”

You looked at the flimsy contraption that was dividing you and him. You had to go out. He couldn’t be avoided forever.

“Want me to break the damn door?” The deep voice hollered in irritation.

Taehyung couldn’t wait to see you. You were now his. No force on Earth could take you away from him. Not on his watch. He had already received a text from Wo Bin. So that matter had been taken care of. He was in a jubilant mood.

The lock clicked, and you emerged, wrapped in the hotel’s complimentary white bathrobe. Taehyung thought that he had never seen anything so beautiful in his life. Wet hair clumped in loose coils around your shoulders, slowly dripping water on the robe. His heart sang, believing that you had been cleansed of Min Yoongi and his touches. You looked angelic; damp body covered in nothing but a robe. A strange feeling raged up from his gut, catching in his throat and smothering him in emotion.

His hand reached you as if it had a mind of its own. The fabric was rough. Wouldn’t it chafe your delicate skin? He balled his fist to contain his annoyance. His slender fingers bunched around the sash, pulling you into his arms. He gasped at how cold you were.

“You’re so cold, Y/N.”

Your face was blank. He got no response. Tracing his steps backward, he landed on the bed, pulling you into his lap.

“So cold,” he repeated again, gently nudging the robe away from your shoulder blades to press soft kisses. You squirmed, and he didn’t like it.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he snapped, cupping your jaw.

The hurt was too much and you broke.

“It’s- I – Yoongi.”

He held you in his arms, waiting for the violent sobs to subside, gently shushing you. He didn’t like that you were still thinking of Yoongi. But he had foreseen this. And he had already made arrangements.

“What about Yoongi, baby?”

You sniffed, unsure if you were supposed to tell him. Hell, what else did you have to lose?

“He- I- “More sobs and hiccups before you continued: “-I want to see him.”

He blew out his cheeks softly.

“And what good will that do?”

He attempted to wipe your tears, but you slapped his hand away.

“I’m his wife.”

“Not anymore. He’s dead.”

The words twisted into your heart like a cold iron dagger. The fighter in you returned with a vengeance.

“But Yoongi is alive. At least legally. You just proved that in court.”

He chuckled, the vibrations of his chest transferring onto your own body, sweeping you into the reverberation too.

“Yes. And unfortunately, he died an hour ago.”

You tried to push yourself off him in vain. The hold grew tight, and his eyes became harder. Your voice broke again.

“What do you mean?”

He cradled your head into the crook of his neck, and you revolted angrily by hitting his jaw and pulling back.

“Tell me, you fucking prick!”

He grinned, his irises dark, the danger swimming in them climbing out and coloring his features with malice.

“You’ll find out yourself.”

He sat motionless, looking into your eyes, as you hurled cuss words at him, shaking his shoulders, demanding an answer. You grew tired eventually, and stopped your tirade, choosing to go silent instead.

It was all quiet in the room, with Taehyung holding you in his lap, sniffing your wet hair, when the ringing of a cell phone screeched and cut the silence. The sound was coming from his pocket.

“Take it,” he urged, his voice dark and mysterious. “It’s for you.”

Grimacing, you dug your fingers into his pockets, scowling when he moaned at your touch. Upon finding the phone, you accepted the call and breathed out a shaky “Hello?”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“I don’t have the faintest idea why Yoongi did this,” Mrs. Park said, dabbing her eyes as she patted your hand. “He was such a good boy.” She shook her head sadly. “Maybe I didn’t know him that well after all.”

To say that her words amplified your hurt would be an understatement. You were surrounded by people who were willing to believe that Yoongi had deserted you, ending up dead by a twist of fate. Your Yoongi would never do that. Never.  Yet, the groups of people clustered in the hall seemed to think otherwise.

You looked around at the familiar yet strange faces. Did any of them even care? You thought not. And yet again, the man who destroyed your husband made his appearance, weaving his way through the flood of faces.

“My heartfelt condolences, Mrs. Min.”

You shook your hand free from his clasp. The venomous anger bubbling inside you made you choke on your words as you bit out a forced “Thank you, Mr. Kim.”

“Talk about Karma,” he went on, unmindful of your hostile countenance. “He left you desolate and Karma caught up with him.”

Before you could snap, Mrs. Park nodded her head, acknowledging his words.

“Mr. Kim is right, child. Yoongi got into trouble because he left you. No decent man fakes his death and pins the blame on his wife.”

She became agitated, the sorrow of losing her best friend’s son hitting her hard.

“I wish he hadn’t gotten involved with the mafia, though. He might have come back to you. Alas.”

More tears welled up in your eyes as you listened to Mrs. Park. How you wished you could scream that Yoongi was dead only because of Taehyung!

“I’ll call on Sung-Hee at the Klammer when I leave.” She patted your shoulder delicately.

You nodded with a soft whisper: “Please give her my love.”

Kim Namjoon had come to bid his friend farewell. He was silent as he surveyed the closed coffin, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he controlled his choked emotions. He paused to hiss in your ear when he was leaving:

“You killed him, bitch.”

The funeral was very difficult to get through. People kept walking up to you, expressing their disappointment at the way your husband had met his death. And all the while the killer stood at a corner of the hall, not caring in the least about the gross injustice Min Yoongi was being subjected to, even in his death.

When everyone left, you were standing alone in the hall, working up the heart to bid goodbye to the love of your life. Taehyung had left long ago, playing his part of an innocent visitor.

Your fingers traced the wood, feeling the ridges and following the embossed floral patterns. It was going to be very hard. Biting your lip to contain the trembling, you slid a finger under the coffin lid.

“I would advise against that.”

You looked up with a start. It was him again. You glared at him as your fingers pried under the lid again. He stepped forward with an urgent whisper.

“Y/N, don’t.”

You had already seen the worst happen right before your eyes. What more would frighten you?

Taehyung wasn’t fast enough, and you had already screamed and leaped back when he arrived at your side.

“I told you not to.” His arms embraced you, holding you tight while you continued screaming your heart out. You turned on him with vengeful fury, hitting his chest, throwing a volley of punches with your balled fists. He let you punch him, not even trying to shield himself.

When you were spent from all the screaming and punching, he hugged you as softly as he could.

“I hired the best mortician. But-” he sighed heavily “-yeah; Min still looks bad.”

He was met with no response. He continued hugging you, rubbing soft circles on your back.

“But-”

He bent down to look at your red eyes. “Hm?”

“Where’s his…” You swallowed the lump in your throat. “… his wedding ring?”

Taehyung shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t know.”

It didn’t matter. You knew that the man inside the coffin was Yoongi. You would recognize those fingers from anywhere. Those long beautiful fingers that had traced lines of love on your skin ever so often. He was indeed gone.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Taehyung was silent as he watched the numbers on the elevator as it climbed up to his penthouse office. It had been three days since he had last seen you. You were at his mansion, alright, but you had locked yourself in a room and had refused to come out. He hadn’t seen you ever since the funeral. He idly wondered if you were still wearing the black dress from that evening. A small conscious cough interrupted his thought train.

So Na Yeon, his personal secretary, nervously fished in her pocket for a kerchief. “Please excuse me.”

He didn’t react. The top two buttons of her blouse were undone. Her lipstick was a shade too bright for his taste. She was interesting to look at. But no one could ever match to you. And thus, he found himself thinking of you yet again.

When the elevator dinged and opened, she followed Taehyung briskly, sailing into his office right behind him. She waited for him to be seated, and then got on with briefing him about his appointments for the day. But when Taehyung waved her away, she remained in place, biting her lip anxiously.  

“Well?”

She creased her forehead, deciding if she should tell him.

“Mr. Wo Bin reported that one of the men is rebelling, sir.”

“In what way?”

“It appears that he asked for a raise and Mr. Bin turned him down.”

“What did Bin say about it?”

She shook her head.

“He said that the man isn’t good enough and that he’s already a waste of your money.”

Taehyung lost interest. He wanted to get his work done with so he could think of you more.

“If Bin said so, I don’t doubt his opinion. Tell him to handle the guy in whichever way he sees fit.”

“Yes, sir.”

She turned and left. And Taehyung noticed her short business skirt for the first time. She seemed really proud of her figure. And then she faded out and his mind wandered to you once again.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

You could hear him fiddling with the doorknob. You knew he had a master key. You had expected to see him break into the room angrily as soon as you had slammed yourself in. But Taehyung did nothing of that sort.

Every morning, before he left, he would try the doorknob. Every evening, as soon as he arrived, he would do it again. There would be heavy sighs outside the door and he’d leave. It was like a ritual, and it went on for six days since the funeral.

On the seventh day, however, he lost his patience. He had waited and given you time to come back to him. He wanted you to walk into his arms willingly. But his patience was wearing thin.

“Open the door.”

He was pressing his forehead against the wood, gritting his teeth in suppressed anger. When there was no sound of movement, his voice rose to a high growl.

“I said open! Now!”

His large palms made contact with the wood as he pounded on the door. Suddenly, the door gave way and opened, the darkness inside the room making it hard for him to see you. It didn’t help that you were wearing black too. At last, he made out your outline.

He reached over to flick the light on, and gasped as soon as the light hit you. There were deep dark circles under your eyes. The straps of the dress were loose and ready to fall from your shoulders.

“God, Y/N, you look like Death.”

He cautiously approached forward, running his eyes over the clavicles that were jutting out sharply.

“It’s been six days. Seven, almost.” He took your hand, pressing it gently. “Come out.”

“No.”

Your voice was so low that he tilted his head to catch the words.

“You need to eat.”

“No.”

He tugged on your hand hard, anger rising in his chest.

“It’s not good for- ” he eyed your belly, “-that thing inside you.”

Hatred lit a spark in your blank eyes.

“It’s a baby,” you hissed, pushing against his chest with all your might. “It’s Min Yoongi’s baby.”

“Yeah, whatever. Do you want it to die? Come out and fucking eat.”

The glaring eyes were better than the blank ones, he noted. He liked you better when you were all animated and furious.

“I wasn’t starving myself. The mini-fridge…“

“I don’t think fruit would nourish your bastard enough. Stop arguing and come out.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Taehyung knew the answer before he even asked the question out loud.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You were dressed in a soft cashmere sweater and jeans. Yoongi used to love that sweater. He would always comment on how it made you look like a fairy cloud.

Taehyung knew the clothes only too well. He had seen you wear the sweater on multiple dates with Yoongi while he was following you around. It made him mad to see you still dressing up for him.

You didn’t even turn his way, throwing the answer at him sullenly:

“My husband’s grave.”

Taehyung leaned back on the sofa, propping his legs up on the coffee table.

“And who exactly is buried there?”

You turned and stared at him, confused.

“Min Yoongi?”

Taehyung chuckled heartily, crossing his arms and gazing fondly at you.

“Oh honey, how naïve you are!”

“What do you mean?” Anxiety pooled in your chest as he continued chuckling without answering.

He took his sweet time to answer, leaving you standing puzzled.

“Do you honestly think I’d let you visit that bastard in his grave, Y/N? Just so you can make him a martyr? Do you think I’m a fool?”

“What- what do you mean?” you repeated again, feeling your chest tighten.

“He isn’t buried there. There’s another dead guy matching his description buried in his stead.”

“But- the coffin-“

“Oh, yeah it was him in the coffin, all right.” He yawned lazily. “Switched bodies on the way to the cemetery.”

He watched all the emotions flashing on your face, the quiver of your lips, the unblinking eyes as you grasped all the information he had just stated. Finally, a cold blank stare replaced the myriad of emotions that had lit up your face. Slowly, you walked back into the bedroom, locking yourself shut. Taehyung sighed deeply. You were finally his.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

It was obvious to Taehyung that you were suffering him just for the sake of your baby. It was bittersweet to him that the only reason you would stay alive was Yoongi’s child growing inside you. He wished fervently to get rid of that tiny Min seed, but he knew the aftermath would be disastrous.

You talked to him in barbed tones only if it was absolutely necessary. The rest of the time, it was as if he was invisible to you. He had forced you to sleep in the master bedroom with him. But it hurt him to see the wide gap in the sheets between him and you every night.

Sometimes, he would turn in his sleep and a finger would brush against you. And he’d stay wide awake watching you huddle on the corner of the bed, sobbing quietly. It became increasingly apparent that you weren’t sleeping at all. If he so much as shifted in his side of the bed, you would immediately flinch.

Part of him wanted to understand, to hold you, and say that he loved you and wouldn’t hurt you. Another part of him was fueled by jealousy, that even in death, Min Yoongi was winning your attention. It was frustrating to him that his enemy wasn’t alive. Who could fight a dead man’s memory?

It was that part of him that broke loose, when he saw you crawl on your side of the bed, wearing an oversized hoodie that reeked of another man. Not letting him touch you was already a sore point. And the hoodie just made him go ballistic.

“What the fuck are you wearing?”

“Huh?” You looked down at Yoongi’s hoodie. “I am cold.”

“Wear something else or strip naked for all I care.” His nose was flaring with the exertion it took to control himself.

You glared at him for a hot second.

“Fuck yourself.”

Without another word, you turned your back to him.

There was a sudden jolt as he pranced to your side, pulling you so you were lying on your back. His whole countenance was flashing with murderous rage. His knees were on either side of you, his arms pinning your shoulders to the bed. Hot breath fanned your face as he dipped his head down.

“Throw everything away. Everything that belonged to Min.”

You stared at him in defiance.

“What about me? I belong to him.”

His lips twitched ominously.

“He is dead.”

You didn’t back down in the slightest.

“Yes. You killed him.”

You could see the internal struggle he was going through to stop himself from hitting you.

He took a deep ragged breath and dipped his head even closer to your face.

“Listen, Y/N. Everything I did, I did because I love you.” He gripped your jaw hard when you rolled your eyes. “I went through a lot to get you. And I will not let you screw this up for me.” He paused with a haunted look in his eyes.

“Why is it so hard to love me?”

He looked at your lips as if they were curling around the words that would be his lifeline.

“Because you are not Yoongi. You killed him.”

His hot sigh fell on your lips, the heat sucking all the moisture from the soft flesh. You were scared that he was going to kiss you.

He leaned back a bit, catching hold of the hem of the hoodie.

“Are you going to remove this, or should I?”

He got off you, turning his back to you as he rummaged in his closet. Without looking back, he tossed his grey oversized sweater at you. He didn’t wait before adding:

“Wear that or sleep naked. Your choice.”

It gave him wicked joy to see you dressed in his clothes. His scent would be all over you, washing away that bastard’s. He made a note to throw away everything you owned and buy you new ones. Nothing should remind you of Min. Even the most inconsequential thing would have to go. He looked at your back wistfully. Everything but that thing inside your belly.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Two weeks passed uneventfully. Taehyung had given you a restricted phone. You could only call Taehyung with it. Calls to Hoseok and others never went through. You felt like your world had suddenly shrunk to one individual.

There was nothing to do in that big house. You weren’t allowed to work, because, apparently you were ‘not ready yet.’ Sometimes, it crossed your mind that you hadn’t received any letters or calls from your clients and friends. But it was probably because Taehyung screened everything. You were sure he’d filter the air you breathed if he had a way to.

You wondered how your mother-in-law was. Why was it that she went crazy but you didn’t? Had your love for Yoongi not been strong enough? Were you not anchored deeply with Yoongi as Sung-Hee had been with her husband?

Would you end up in a room next to your Yoongi’s mother? But you were sure they would take away your child if you went to the Klammer Institute. No, you shivered in disgust. You would never let Taehyung destroy the little piece of Yoongi left in the world.

The next morning, you emerged from the bathroom, body drained in exhaustion. Nothing you ate seemed to stay in your tummy. Wearily, you padded over to the full-length mirror in the dressing table.

You were pulling the shirt up and gazing at your belly when there was a click behind you. Taehyung stood immobile at the doorway, mouth agape.

His eyes were fixed on the mirror, looking at the tiny flab on your erstwhile flat belly. You had been only a couple months pregnant when Yoongi died, so the bump hadn’t shown. But nature was going her way, and soon you would be heavily pregnant, belly rich and round with child.

Taehyung gazed silently, not uttering a word. It was as if he were on mute. When he opened his mouth, at last, the words that shot out were:

“Time to marry.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Your plea to wait longer fell on deaf ears. Taehyung didn’t want to delay marrying you. He wanted to protect his ego. He would marry you before your pregnancy showed.

You pointed out that people would call you an unscrupulous woman who remarried even before flowers took root on her husband’s grave.

“Do you want everyone to hate me?”

He didn’t even flinch.

“Everyone already hates me. At least you’ll be on my side.”

No matter how you pleaded, he refused to listen. He reminded you of the jail time he had saved you and your baby from.

“It wouldn’t take me a minute to get you arrested again, you know.”

He looked at your midsection. “Want me to sign up for foster care?”

There was no way out. You slumped your shoulders in resignation. It was part of the deal, after all.

“Nothing lavish.” You licked your lips nervously. “Just take me to the fucking courthouse and get it over with.

Taehyung smiled, eyes dancing. The sunny smile lit his face aglow, a strange softness shading his sharp features.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“Y/N, you really are a mystery. So soon?”

Mrs. Kim didn’t care to lower her voice.

“Leave her alone, Mrs. Kim.”

Hoseok’s tone was clipped, annoyance evident on his face.

Bo Na was holding your hand, patting it slowly, her eyes assuring you that she understood why you had to do what you did.

Taehyung smiled, finger grazing the rim of the champagne glass. He was wearing the tux he had bought months before you married Yoongi. He had spent countless nights running his fingers over the dreamy satin, his mind dreaming up heady concoctions of how sparkling you would look as you walked down the aisle, on his arm. He had woven all his dreams into the very fabric of that tuxedo, and the fact that he had, at last, attained what he wanted, made his heart warm.

“To tell you the truth, Mrs. Kim,” he sipped some champagne, waiting until all the attention was on him, “Y/N is pregnant with Min Yoongi’s child.”

Bo Na gasped, her hand flying to her mouth to contain the shock.

Mrs. Kim looked just as shocked. She couldn’t stop lowering her eyes to your belly.

Taehyung continued:

“She needs a person by her side, especially after losing Yoongi so tragically. I was Yoongi’s friend, and I can’t let Y/N suffer by herself.”

You wished the champagne were laced with poison. When had you become so weak? How was it that you let him puppeteer you into silence? Should you have tried and killed him before things got so complicated?

“Lost in thought, lamb?”

Taehyung grinned. No water on Earth would have doused the fiery glare you threw his way. Mrs. Kim called out to her son who was passing by.

“Namjoon!”

Yoongi’s best friend clenched his jaw and exhaled loudly before making his way to his mother.

“Yes, mom.”

“You were wrong about Y/N, boy. The poor girl is pregnant.”

His thick eyebrows arched at you in surprise.

His mother went on.

“And Taehyung only wanted to help, poor darling. Such a good man, he is.”

Namjoon’s eyes locked onto Taehyung’s. The air felt electric as they stared each other down. Namjoon deflated eventually.

“Yeah, I’m sure he is. Excuse me, please.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

There were no words to describe how embarrassed you were by the whole wedding affair. Everything was the opposite of nothing lavish. The decorations were all extravagant, sophisticated, and gaudy in the face of the fact that you had been widowed only months ago.

Taehyung had invited every person who had attended your first wedding with Yoongi. It was almost as if he wanted to flaunt you and brag about how he had fooled them all right under their noses. He was everywhere, flitting from one guest to the other, flashing his boxy smile, playing his part of the perfect host.

The guests were confused if they had to offer their condolences or wishes. It was very awkward for you, the little rip in your heart deepening with each guest’s flustered greeting.

Wow. Everyone pretended as if Yoongi never existed. As if he had never been killed. Killed by the man who danced through the halls as if he were the epitome of innocence.

Hoseok took your hand, leaning in to whisper.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I wish I could kill Taehyung.”

You blinked away the tears.

“Yeah, so do I.”

The sound of a spoon tapping a wine glass cut through the chatter.

“Ladies and gentlemen, your attention, please!”

Everyone stopped chatting and looked expectantly at Taehyung’s uncle, who was all smiles.

“I’d like to say what a fine boy Taehyung is, deciding to take Y/N under his wing, after the terrible misfortune that befell her.” He raised his voice to a higher note. “Especially because he didn’t want her child to be fatherless.”

If you ever had the power to vanish, you would have loved to use it at that moment. There were several gasps and turned heads that looked your way.

“Congratulations, to the new couple!”

Taehyung’s uncle raised his glass, and scattered applause sounded, and grew louder as people digested the news.

Taehyung stood with his head bent, a shy smile painting his cheeks pink.

That devil.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Going through the whole ordeal of the wedding was emotionally taxing. Every little thing about the ceremony reminded you of the gummy-smiled beautiful man you had married with so much love. When Taehyung slid the ring on your finger, you felt a wave of nausea that certainly wasn’t related to your pregnancy. He lowered his head to kiss your knuckles, loving the way the beautiful cushion-cut diamond adorned your pretty hand.

As you were walking out, trying not to cringe at Taehyung’s grasp on the small of your hip, a woman stumbled and dropped her glass, splashing wine all over the front of your dress.

“Oh! I am so sorry!”

Your brain couldn’t get irritated enough to lose your temper. Not when a man had already forcibly married you and assassinated your darling Yoongi’s character just before your eyes.

“It’s alright, Na Yeon.”

Taehyung waved her away, not angry in the least. He then leaned in to whisper in your ear:

“I’m going to rip that dress off your body anyway.”

The ride to his mansion was the longest. You had been living there, yes, but as Mrs. Min. You had hidden behind that name as if it were a consecrated circle. But this time, you were going as Taehyung’s bride. Nothing was going to stop him from claiming you.

“Welcome home, Mrs. Kim,” Taehyung sang to you as the car pulled into the driveway.

“Taehyung-“

He laid his slim finger on your lip, shushing you.

“Call me Tae.”

You scoffed in disbelief.

“You really think I’d call you that? What, do you think I love you?”

He grinned happily.

“You do. You just don’t accept it yet.”

There was a battle of stares and you turned on your heel, stomping away to change out of the stupid wine-soaked wedding dress.

It was confusing when you stopped outside the bedroom door. Because the knob wouldn’t turn. You were fiddling with it for a good five minutes when Taehyung’s chuckle fell in your ears.

He was leaning against the banister, a set of shiny keys in his hand.

“It’s customary to give the lady of the house all the keys,” he drawled, twirling the silvery loop that jangled in his hand. “Our bedroom is upstairs, Mrs. Kim. Newly decorated just for us.”

Irritated, you plucked the keys out of his fingers, huffing your way up to the damned bedroom. When you threw the door open, you understood that he was telling the truth.

The whole room was painted in pastel cream colors, books and music stacked neatly on the glass shelves. There was a huge closet, with mirrors for doors. The closet directly overlooked the giant white bed. Rose petals were strewn across the bed to make a big flower heart.

You knew he was behind you when you heard the brisk step of his shoe.

“Like it?”

You could almost hear his smile in those words.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

The petals stuck onto your thighs as you rolled out of bed. Taehyung was sleeping, his chest pressing against the bed, his arm strewn over a pillow. His rhythmic breathing confirmed that he was asleep.

You shuddered at the shrunken petals, crushed under the weight of your bodies. Taehyung’s dark hair fanned over his arm, and you could see his veins bulging underneath his skin. So strong. Yet, he hadn’t thrown himself at you as you had feared.

In fact, he had gone straight to shower upon entering the new bedroom. You had changed into shorts. Strangely, all your long night pants were missing from the new closet.

Taehyung hadn’t made any sudden moves. He had emerged from the bathroom, stood before the closet-mirrors, tightened the cords of his pajamas, and turned to you.

You had been absolutely sure that you were going to be claimed harshly. But he had simply knelt down, both hands on either side of you, and leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead. Accompanied by the distinct sniff of his habitual smelling of your hair. And then he had risen up and gone to his side of the bed.

Sneaking a look at the man sleeping across the bed, you couldn’t understand why he hadn’t thrown himself at you forcibly. Had he not done it in the glass room?

The bedside clock ticked on, and you decided to pay your parents a visit. You hadn’t been to see them in a long time, ever since Yoongi had started having money troubles. The last time you had visited them, you were Mrs. Min. Something inside you just wanted to get away from the sudden overload of being married to your husband’s killer. Your mind craved something to keep you from going insane. Something that was a constant in the troubled times of uncertainty.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Months ago

Yoongi was at home, all alone. An empty whiskey bottle was lying on the table, rolling to the sides a teeny bit every now and then. He couldn’t believe he had gotten into so much trouble. All those years of hard work his parents and grandparents had put into the Min Group, all the effort, it was all falling apart. Because of him. The heir who wrecked the family. He could almost see the headlines in the newspaper.

His breath was probably smelling like whiskey. You would find out. He sighed.

You. Beautiful, gorgeous, wonderful you. Why had things gone so bad? Why did he ever trust Wo Bin, that bastard?  A thousand questions raced in his mind, the drunken haze making them even louder. How could he ever tell you that he had let you down? That he had let his entire family down?

He glanced at the digital clock on the counter. 3 pm. You would be home soon. Good gosh, was it Wednesday already? Kim Taehyung had threatened to show up at the Min house if he didn’t pay up by Friday. What was he going to do in such little time?

A clang of the doorbell startled him. You carried your own key. Who else was at the door?

Yoongi stood up and the headrush made him stumble around a bit. When he finally opened the door, a delivery girl was standing outside. She was carrying a bouquet of lilies. Lilies. They were your favorite. He was confused. Who sent you lilies at your home?

“Delivery for Mrs. Kim?”

Yoongi stood stunned. What the hell?

“You’ve got the wrong address.”

He tried to shut the door, but the girl persisted in a shrill voice.

“A person called Y/N? Does she live here?”

“Yeah- why…?”

The girl thrust the bouquet in his hands, grinning cheerfully.

“Then these are for her.”

She hopped away, leaving him standing at the porch, wondering what in the world just happened.

When Yoongi went back in, his gaze fell on the little card attached to the bow on the stems. It read:

‘To the future Mrs. Kim.

All the love, KTH.’

The words made Yoongi so angry that his fingers started shaking alarmingly. There was a band of sweat under his collar, even though the AC was on full blast. Anger coursing through his veins, Yoongi clawed at the card and tore it to pieces. He had never been so insulted in his life.

Outside, the delivery girl dialed a number and waited for the man to pick up.

“I delivered the flowers to him, Mr. Bin.”

She paused to listen.

“Yeah, he was alone.”

Yoongi was on his way to dump the flowers in the trash can when his phone rang. Swearing under his breath, he threw the bouquet on the counter and picked up.

“Min Yooooongiii…”

The deep booming voice drawled in his ear. Yoongi felt his cheeks heat up. Sweat was beginning to trickle down his forehead.

“Quit playing your games with me, Taehyung.”

There was a throaty chuckle on the other end of the line.

“Do you think your wife will like the lilies?”

“I swear I’ll-“

“I am sure she received another delivery at her studio.”

Yoongi went mute. What did the card on that one say? He started panicking.

“I’ll fucking kill you, Kim Taehyung.”

The caller laughed in a way designed to specifically irritate Yoongi.

“We’ll see. Remember you only have till Friday to pay up.”

The line disconnected and Yoongi was left fuming, unable to collect his thoughts. He needed alcohol. Something. Anything. Just to douse the white-hot fire burning in his chest.

── ⋆✩⋆ ──

“Mrs. Min?”

You had moved into the new studio only a couple months back. You primarily operated from home, but the studio was needed when you met other clients. Yoongi had set you up with a beautiful studio complete with hand-picked designers who assisted you.

“Yes?”

“Miss Yung is requesting to meet you tomorrow, for lunch.”

You looked at the calendar. Thursday was when you always went to see your parents. But Yung Min-Ji was a wonderful client, and you did have a lot to discuss with her about the styling of her new condo.

“Tell her I’m available.”

“But your usual schedule-“

You smiled lightly.

“I’ll go today instead. No worries.”

It wasn’t a sentiment to go only on Thursdays. It just happened to be that your schedules were light on that day of the week. You glanced at the time. 2 pm. You could use some fresh air.

There was a cool breeze when you stopped by the florist to get your mom’s flowers- carnations. You were walking absent-mindedly, coming to a stop in front of the headstone. You looked at the grave, confusion creasing your eyebrows.

There was a beautiful bouquet of white carnations laid neatly on each of your parents’ graves. The flowers were fresh as if someone had just laid them out. But no one was around. You were the only living person in the cemetery. You knelt down, finding a pool of molten wax. It was hard to the touch. Someone had come by earlier. Further inspection showed that both graves had indeed had carnations and one small lit candle on them. But, they were left by whom?

── ⋆✩⋆ ──

The sound of gravel crunching under the tires of your car woke Yoongi up. His head was throbbing. He held his head, steadying himself before getting up.

“Baby, I’m home!” your melodic voice chirped at the door.

Before he even got to hug you, he was met with your screeches, as you were hollering in excitement. You were jumping up and down in his arms, eyes shining in delight.

“Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongiii-yaahhhh,” you crooned, grinning eagerly, “The flowers- was that you?”

There was a catch in his throat while Yoongi racked his brain.

“Uh- yes. Liked them?”

You swung yourself on his arms, giggling.

“Like? I loved them!”

Oh shit. He remembered the forgotten lilies on the counter. He had meant to throw them away. Damn. How would he explain them?

“Y/N,” he whispered, catching hold of you. “Go on and shower, I’ll be right back.”

You nodded, suddenly transported back to reality.

“Yoongi- you smell of whiskey.”

He turned his back to you, advancing in swift steps to grab the cursed lilies.

“I’ll be back.”

You made your way to the bedroom, mind still buzzing in happiness. You hadn’t even looked at the lilies.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Present day

The soil was wet under your shoes, from all the dew. The guards had shut up and let you leave on foot, without insisting on approval from their boss. Fucking privilege of being Mrs. Kim, ugh.

The faint smell of cut grass kissed your nostrils as you walked absently. It was still early in the morning, and the cool air helped ease your feverish tension. A man was raking leaves near your parents’ graves.

You walked faster, reaching his side just in time to see a bouquet of shrunken white carnations, withered and sad. There was molten wax on the cold marble, just like there had been before. The man sank to his knees, scraping off the wax gently. He didn’t even look your way.

But the flowers and candles? Who was it?

“Excuse me, um, sir?”

He raised his head, one good eye looking expectantly at you, while the other was clouded with cataract.

“Yes, miss?”

You gestured towards the graves.

“Those flowers… do you know who-“

“Aye, them flowers,” he shook his head, “I don’t know nothin’ about who leaves them.”

You crinkled your forehead.

“But you were cleaning the wax, so I-“

“Aye, miss. I been paid to keep these two graves clean. Good money for an odd job.”

Your heart started fluttering wildly.

“Paid? By whom?”

He made a stern face as if he were concentrating.

“Dunno. I been paid to take care of the graves as long as I live.”

He resumed scraping the wax, talking slowly.

“Man paid five grand, one time. Said ‘em graves should be kept spick and span.” He paused to turn around self-consciously. “He said he be checking on me, makin’ sure I ain’t skipped town with them money.”

You didn’t know what to think. It was a weird piece of information to process.

“How long since he paid you, sir?”

He closed his eyes, maybe he was thinking.

“Four years? Maybe five-ish,” he said when he finally opened them.

“Miss, tell him I be doing the work all right!”

The man hollered at your retreating back, nervous that you were spying on him.

You nodded, walking rapidly away. It was incomprehensible. It was a dream. Yes. You had probably dreamt it up. You would wake soon and find your husband’s killer draped all over you.

When you returned gloomily to the mansion, Taehyung was lounging on the sofa, flicking through the pages of a business magazine. You ignored him and made straight for the bedroom. It was only when you hit the shower that you remembered what day it was. Thursday.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“I’m going back to work.”

Taehyung lowered his glass, eyelashes almost dusting the rim of the glass.

“Doing what?”

You folded your hands, staring him down.

“Designing homes and offices.”

He grinned, sipping juice innocently as you tapped your foot in impatience.

“And who do you think wants Mrs. Kim to design for them?”

You hadn’t forgotten that the title alienated you from the rest of the elite. But hadn’t you a uniqueness of your own? You were sure they wouldn’t discriminate you. They were all your friends and Yoongi’s, weren’t they?

“I have friends.”

He took another long sip, smacking his lips just to annoy you.

“No, baby, you don’t. To them, you’re nothing but a traitor.”

“I’m not.” You were sure that he was just manipulating you into his twisted theories.

He tilted his head like a confused puppy.

“Don’t believe me?” He thrust his hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone, extending it to you. “Go on, try calling someone.”

Your instinct was to dial Hoseok’s number. But you knew he would stay by your side forever. Calling him would be like mistrusting his friendship. You thought hard. Maybe you could call Mrs. Park.

You dialed her number feverishly, hoping she would pick up. You didn’t know you were holding your breath until the line clicked and a voice spoke out:

“Yes? Mrs. Park here.”

“Oh hello, Mrs. Park, I’m Y/N, how ar-“

She cut you off swiftly.

“Y/N? What is it, child?”

You nervously looked at Taehyung out of the corner of your eyes. He was leaning back, a bored look on his face as he blew raspberries. Twisting the hem of your tee, you chuckled consciously.

“I was wondering if you knew anyone who’s looking to-,” you licked your dry lips, “You know, to redo their apartments and stuff.”

There was an awkward pause.

“Ah Y/N, I wish I could help you. But you know, Jaewon found a new designer who specializes in Earth tones and my daughter says it’s the craze right now, so-“

“I see.”

Mrs. Park heaved a deep sigh.

“So, yeah, everyone is more interested in following that trend, naturally,” She was rambling to neutralize the awkwardness, “Besides, you’re pregnant and… I hope you don’t mind, dearie.”

“No, Mrs. Park, it’s fine.”

“Call me if you want anything, Y/N.” More like ‘Don’t disturb me again, Y/N.’

“Yeah. Thanks.”

You couldn’t bear to look at the gloating face that smirked at you. He was right. Everyone loved you only when you had been a Min. But as soon as Yoongi died, their allegiance had crumbled to dust.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to hate them, though. You had married Taehyung just months after Yoongi died. Married Kim Taehyung, of all people. It was a wonder that Mrs. Park had even picked the call.  

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Every morning, you stood before the mirror, gazing at your belly. There was no significant bump, but you could just feel the little piece of Yoongi stir inside you. It made your heart sing. How happy Yoongi would have been! How wonderful life would have been with him! Raising your child together, loving each other, looking into each other’s eyes, watching your skin sag and wrinkle; growing old, but your love never lessening.

It was ironic that every day felt like an eon with Taehyung. You were in constant tension around him, like an elastic band stretched to its maximum limit. Even his slightest moves made you nervous. If he reached over for salt, you were left trembling. If he walked out of the shower in his boxers, your heart raced. Everything about him kept you on edge, scared that he would pounce on you without a moment’s notice.

Things came to a head the next Tuesday. You were getting ready to go out for your doctor’s appointment. Taehyung emerged from the shower, rubbing the towel against his wet hair as he walked to the closet mirrors, standing next to you.

His studied your yellow floral dress, only the slightest hint of belly was proof that another human was growing inside you. A tight thread of jealousy snapped inside Taehyung. Yoongi had made love to you, cummed in you, leaving you pregnant. He fumed in jealousy, getting into his pants and picking out his shirt.

He was adjusting his tie when he saw you swirl the tube of lip balm. The same brand you had used for years, lending that delicious glossy sheen on your lips that kept haunting him in his dreams. His tie was left forgotten, and he reached his hand out to gently pull you closer. The sudden rigidity of your body reminded him of a startled kitten.

“What, babe?” He crooned, drawing you nearer. “Go on, wear it.”

When you didn’t comply, he plucked the tube out of your fingers, smearing a glossy coat of lip balm on your lips. He could see the visible heaving of your chest as you struggled to maintain your composure.

Pinning you with your back against the closet mirror, he dipped his head to ghost his breath over your lips. The fruity smell made him go crazy.

Without warning, his tongue licked a hot trail over your upper lip, following the natural curve of your cupid’s bow. He smacked his lips, groaning in lust, and went in to savor your lower lip too.

“Your lips look better with my saliva, baby,” he murmured, gently nibbling on your lips and sucking on the plump soft flesh.

He was heady with need, nibbling harder and pushing himself closer against you. When you tried pushing against his chest, he got mad.

“How long do you think I’ll wait? Huh?” His voice was thick in a mix of anger and want. “Think I’d just fuck my hand forever?”

Your throat felt hollow and itchy when you voiced out:

“I don’t want to-“

His face crumpled in anger.

“Well, too bad, because I want to.”

Still in his pants, he thrust his clothed crotch into your pelvis, the floral skirt allowing him to feel the mound between your legs. He used his knee to keep your legs spread, while he went on thrusting against you. The friction made him curse out loud. One of his hands sneaked to catch hold of your throat, and he nestled his forehead against your shoulder blade, never stopping his thrusts.

His moans grew louder, quicker, and more intense. He bit the soft skin on your shoulder as he reached his climax. He panted in your ear, deep breaths reverberating through his body. With a heavy moan, he licked the bite mark and straightened his back, watching you warily.

Your eyes were closed, face frozen and impassive.

He hadn’t been able to control himself. When he thought about it, he hadn’t even touched his dick once, and yet his seed was all over his underwear. That was how much you affected him.

When he pushed off of you, you still hadn’t opened your eyes.

“Thought I’d change,” he drawled lazily, biting his lip. “But on second thought, I’ll go to work in my creamed pants. It’ll remind me of you all day.”

A drop of salty water rolled down your closed lid.

There were only sounds of him moving around, grabbing his phone, keys and stuff, and then silence.

He hadn’t even touched a button on your dress. But you had never felt so open and vulnerable in your entire life.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Taehyung was in a serious discussion with his board when the intercom rang. He threw an angry glance at Na Yeon, who bowed so deep he could see her cleavage clear as day.

She hurried to answer, looking at him beseechingly.

Taehyung did not like his meetings interrupted. Calls were always screened while he was in discussion. Only an important person or an important matter could bypass the screening.

“What?”

“I am to put it on speakerphone,” Na Yeon replied meekly.

“Do it then.” He was losing his patience.

“Kim Taehyung, you fucking son of a bitch!”

Everyone in the boardroom was startled, looking at each other in panic.

“How dare you take advantage of me like that? You insufferable, disgusting prick!”

Taehyung leaned back in his chair, playing with his pen.

“You miserable bag of shit, I swear I’ll cut your balls off!”

Taehyung drummed his knuckles on the desk, waiting for the tirade to stop.

“You are the vilest asshole on earth!”

The line went dead, and a stunned silence prevailed in the room. Taehyung rose again, going back to the whiteboard. He huffed at the mute people staring at him. He didn’t lose an ounce of his cool.

“So, let’s pick up where we left off…”

After everyone left, Na Yeon stayed back to apologize. Taehyung noticed that there was a beauty mark on her chest, right near the button of her blouse. Well, it wouldn’t have been visible if she had buttoned up her blouse. Maybe she felt sexy. Whatever. He didn’t really care.

“I’m sorry about the phone call, Mr. Kim.”

“It was nothing.” He shrugged it off, he wasn’t very bothered.

She continued unmindful of his disinterest.

“I should have tried to cut the call, I shall screen her next-“

His features suddenly flashed with annoyance.

“She is my wife. She should never be screened. Besides, she has every right to yell at me.” He sneered at Na Yeon as he bit out his words. “You don’t have any right to cut my wife’s call.”

With that, he stormed out of the boardroom, leaving his secretary shocked into silence.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

That evening, when Taehyung returned home, you were in the sitting room, legs crossed. Your mouth was set in a straight line. You were giving off a stubborn aura, and Taehyung fought the smile that threatened to curl his lips up.

“Aren’t you gonna kiss your husband, Mrs. Kim?”

The hot glare didn’t alarm him in the least.

He loosened his tie, sighing in that deep voice of his. It made the hair on your arms stand up. He settled down on the couch, just next to you.

“I enjoyed the telephonic love note today,” he said, fiddling with his cufflinks. He proceeded to unbuckle his belt.

“Especially because my pants were crusted with cum.” He threw his belt on the floor. “Thanks to you.”

You jumped to your feet, wagging a finger at him, screeching in mutiny.

“Don’t ever do that again, you scumbag.”

“Why not?” Mock surprise danced on his face. “Didn’t you agree to marry me?”

“I didn’t agree to be violated, Kim Taehyung.”

He puffed out his cheeks, disinterested.

“You didn’t leave me any other choice.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. Did he expect you to jump on his lap and love him? After he snatched everything you loved away from you? Was he insane?

You threw your arms up, scoffing incredulously.

“How on Earth do you think I’ll ever love you?” The very idea made you gag. “After you killed my husband? Do you have no regret?”

He scanned his fingernails, pouting his lips in mock hurt. His voice was soft.

“I didn’t kill him on my own.”

“What?” The tic on your mouth made your face twitch. “What the fuck are you saying?”

He lifted his eyes to meet yours.

“Everything I did was because I loved you. For you.”

You stared at him, no words coming to mind. You had been sure that you were only the spoils of the war between his family and Yoongi’s. You didn’t believe for one second that Taehyung loved you.

“When you think about it, the reason I killed him was you.”

Your jaw dropped. The sputtering of your mouth made it impossible to frame comprehensible words.

“Me?”

“Mmhmm. In a sense, you killed Yoongi.”

No, no. this wasn’t happening. You had never done anything to hurt Yoongi. He was your love, your precious baby. No, Taehyung was babbling nonsense.

“Shut up,” you whispered, voice shaking.

He smirked at you.

“Think, baby. He wouldn’t have died if you had said ‘Yes’ when I asked you nicely.”

Memories of that fateful day at his office, clad in pajamas and feeling his bulge pressing against you came tumbling back.

It was a struggle to find your voice. “No.”

“Accept that you killed him, Y/N.”

Your vision blurred with tears and you repeated again, “No.”

A shit-eating grin spread on his face. He unzipped himself, sliding into a more comfortable position.

“Would you rather say you killed him or suck my cock?”

The first drop rolled down your cheek, and he repeated his question, voice darker and laced with lust.

You grasped for words. “Don’t do this to me.”

Your plea made him impatient. He wanted the cold war to end already. How long were you going to mourn Yoongi? He didn’t really want to fuck you when you were heavy with that man’s child.

“Either suck my cock or admit that Min died because of you.”

He waited with bated breath, observing the whirlpool of emotions flashing on your face. And then, to his utter delight, you wordlessly sank to your knees.

He unzipped his pants, giddy with excitement. Your face was devoid of emotion. The tears had stopped, leaving stains on both your cheeks. He waited for you to reach and touch him. When it didn’t happen, he lifted his hips off the couch, annoyed.

“My cock isn’t gonna pop into your mouth on its own, babygirl.”

Nothing.

He reached out and grabbed your head, pulling you in so your nose was against his clothed dick. He felt like he would burst at the feeling. He moaned out as he rubbed your face against him, the groans coming out harsh and strained.

He couldn’t wait for you to take him out, so he fished himself out of his boxers, grazing the tip against your lips. The blunt disgust on your face only made him even hornier, and he coated all his pre-cum onto your lips.

“Fuck, Y/N, my cum looks better on you than my saliva does.”

He pressed the sides of your jaw to pucker your mouth open, placing himself inside your warm mouth.

“Go on, baby. Suck.”

He caught your eyes and added in a dangerous tone, “Don’t you dare bite, I’ll fucking kick that bastard to death.” He looked ominously at your belly. He knew your sore point.

Swallowing your pride, you let his muscle glide in and out of your mouth.

“That’s not sucking, babygirl.”

Your spat at him in fury. “Fucking suck yourself.”

He made as if to kick your midsection, and you screamed in alarm. The tips of his toes made slight contact with your ribs and you yelled for him to stop.

“Stop it, stop it, don’t,” you never wanted to sob in front of him, but it just happened out of your control.

“Well, suck it then. And don’t close your eyes.”

You worked on him robotically, trying to trample down the sick guilt that rose up in your chest with each bob.

He groaned and growled, cursing at the sensation of your velvety tongue. He wouldn’t mind if he died and went to heaven. Before he even knew it, he was close to his release. He panted out, cumming hard into your mouth.

You remained in position, not attempting to swallow. He knew you were going to spit it out as soon as you humanly could. His fingers closed around your neck.

“Swallow. Now.”

The pressure slowly increased, threatening to choke you. Your delirious brain conjured a coroner’s report. Cause of death: Choking on cum.

Reflexively, your body fought by opening and closing your pharynx, effectively making you swallow his slimy essence.

Taehyung felt the bob of your throat, his chest puffing up with pride. He lifted you up gently, holding onto the nape of your neck. He gazed at your glistening cupid’s bow, and slowly pressed his lips on yours.

He had never seen your naked breasts, but that could wait. He was already swimming in rabid delight.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“Thank you for agreeing to do this interview, Mr. Kim,” the man said, setting up his notepad and pen.

Taehyung grunted in answer. His mind was somewhere else. He had been in a fight with you over names. He had wanted you to officially change your family name. But you had refused. He hated the Min that rang along with your name. It made him want to puke when someone ever addressed you that way.

“I will not change my name,” you had said, stubbornly set in defiance.

He adored your stubborn trait, but when it came to matters involving that damned Min Yoongi, he hated your obstinacy.

“You fucking will.”

“Make me.” You had folded your hands, indicating that you would not be swayed.

Taehyung was at his office, thinking of ways to coerce you into taking his name. That was when the reporter arrived for a quick interview.

The man started off with questions about Taehyung’s business, his financial turn over and assorted boring stuff, which he answered robotically.

Out of nowhere, the question popped up, making him raise his eyebrows mildly.

“Is it true that Mr. Min and you were friends?”

Taehyung shrugged his shoulders carelessly.

“Of course, we were.”

“But, Mr. Kim, a lot of people expressed surprise at your claim of being friends with him.”

“People like who?”

“People who thought you married Mrs. Min a bit too soon.”

Taehyung snapped in annoyance: “She’s Mrs. Kim now.”

“Exactly my point, Mr. Kim.”

Maybe you would consider changing your name if he compromised. But how?

“Well, Mr. Kim?”

“Huh?” Taehyung had a hard time not thinking of you. “I wanted to help her out, especially after he deserted her, while she was pregnant.”

“How did you know she was pregnant? You testified in court that you didn’t know her too well.” The man leaned forward eagerly. “How did she consent to marry you so soon?”

Taehyung could smell a bait from a mile away. The man wasn’t interested in him after all. He was scoping out facts about you.

“What is it that you want?”

His tone made it clear that he knew what was going on. The man cut to the chase abruptly.

“Did you kill Mr. Min?”

Taehyung swiveled on his chair, taking his sweet time.

“Yes. I killed him.”

The abrupt admittance started his opponent, making him open and close his mouth like a goldfish. When he saw how flustered the man was, Taehyung continued:

“You got your answer, what more do you want to know?”

“But- but why did you –” the man was bewildered. “Mrs. Min, she was on trial, you testified against her.”

“Yes, I did.”

“She could have gone to prison.”

“Right again. Don’t beat around the bush.”

“Was it-” the man swallowed, “-an affair? Did you both plot to kill Mr. Min?”

Taehyung laughed. How he wished that had been the case. He would have been spared a lot of trouble if that were true.

The man wiped his forehead nervously.

“What are you laughing about?”

“Nothing, I’m just imagining how your head would look like on a stake.” Taehyung smiled fondly. “You know, my children would happily play with it.”

Children. Name. Maybe he could compromise on that bastard child’s name? Would that make you think again?

Taehyung’s attention snapped back to watch the man gulp several times, obviously shaken.

“So, did you get the answers you wanted?” He exhaled lightly, adding, “My secretary has your name and contact details, my men would pay you a friendly visit if you blabbered anything anywhere.”

“I- yes, I understand.” The man got up in a hurry. “Please excuse me.”

── ⋆✩⋆ ──

When the reporter left the building, his phone vibrated with a message.

‘Any news?’

He called the sender.

“There’s nothing to report. I’m pretty sure neither Mr. Kim nor Y/N had anything to do with Mr. Min’s disappearance.”

The call ended, and Namjoon sighed. He knew something had happened. Something had gone wrong.

But the reporter couldn’t glean anything from Taehyung. The seeds of doubt took root in his mind. Was it possible that he had imagined the conspiracy? What if there had been no conspiracy and Yoongi really had fled?

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“I have a proposal.”

You looked up from your curled kitten position on the deckchair, overlooking the pool. You were cross that Taehyung had interrupted your attempt at sketching Yoongi.

“Not interested.”

He pranced forward, plucking the sketchbook and tossing it away. The splash of it hitting the water sent droplets flying up and raining on your feet.

“What the hell d’you do that for?”

The reflection of the sun in the ripples of the pool made his face light up and sparkle. He placed both his hands on the armrests, trapping you.

“You will take my name.”

“Forget it.”

“In return,” he whispered softly, “You get to name your baby whatever the fuck you want.”

“I am the mother and I don’t need you to offer me what’s already my right.”

He butted your forehead with his own, clucking his tongue in impatience.

“You really don’t want your baby to see the light of day, do you?”

The scowl on your face was reflexive. It was a bother that he always used your baby as an excuse to get his way.

“Fuck off, Taehyung.”

He threw himself bodily on you, willing a strangled gasp to escape your lips. He spread your arms and upper body to align them with the chair, opening your torso up to him. He was already panting, cursing out as he spread your legs with his knee.

“C’mon now, babygirl, stop being so stubborn.”

He sunk his whole weight onto you, crushing your body underneath him.

The graphite pencil you had been using to sketch was still in your fingers. Mustering up all your strength, you dove it into the back of his neck.

He hissed in pain, jerking involuntarily and pulling the pencil off your grasp. When you struggled to let it go, he placed a well-aimed slap on your cheek, making you freeze in shock.

“You little brat,” he spat out, still pissed about his neck. His palms made contact with your cheeks twice more, sending your face jerking left and right.

“I’ll teach you to stab me, you little-“

He bunched both your hands by the wrist, holding them up above your head. His other hand sneaked between your legs, pushing your thighs apart.  When you tried to wriggle and throw him off, his knee dug into your midsection.

“Want to destroy what we have?” He sunk his knee a little deeper. “Huh, sugar?”

His finger was rubbing circles on your core, making you bite your lips from moaning out.

“Fuck, I’m permanently hard around you.”

His hard length was obvious in the tent of his pants. But as before, he humped against you, not unzipping himself. The friction was making him go wild. He thrust his hips into yours, the knee remaining ominously on your navel.

“Ah ssibal,” he cursed, throwing his head back, consequently making his long dark hair flip and reveal his glistening forehead.

“Oh… Oh.. I’m cumming,” he breathed out, spasming violently all over you, digging himself out of you and spilling his cum all over your clothed belly.

“Ew, Taehyung, you bitch, you’re fucking disgusting,” you screamed, pushing against his chest even as he shuddered in the aftermath of his orgasm. He smiled dumbly, panting out in ragged breaths. He placed his mouth near your ear, tickling your earlobe with his hot breath.

“I want to cum inside you.”

He sighed deeply as if he was thinking quietly about it, before adding:

“Soon.”

He pushed off you, grinning as he ruffled his hair back into place. Whistling softly, he walked away, leaving you trembling in a mix of shock and anger, looking down at your ruined dress.

He had cummed exactly on your belly, like he had carefully meant to.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

The annual costume ball invitations reached your house, one addressed to Mr. Kim and one addressed to Mrs. Min. Taehyung had torn the envelope into pieces before handing you the card. It was probably a snide attempt to snub Taehyung and you knew that it had worked, judging from the annoyance on his face. You wondered if the hosts had intended to send you late invitations, because the ball was slated to happen that night.

You threw it on the coffee table, not caring in the least about some stupid party. But Taehyung had other ideas.

“We’re going tonight. Get ready.”

If the stuck-up Min empaths thought they had made a statement by sending two fucking invitations, they would have to think again. He would show them what fools they were. You were his Mrs. Kim.

The burgundy dress had a cowl neckline, which he absolutely loved. He had picked it out carefully, mind giddy with excitement on how perfect it would look on you. Finally, a day had come for the glamorous dress to do you justice, flattering your body, much to the envy of those losers.

“Wear the burgundy dress I bought you. And the studded heels.”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He opened his closet, apparently searching for something. When he turned, a classic Tiffany box was nestled in his palm. He opened it, and a sparkling silvery bracelet was reflected in your eyes, lending them a beautiful twinkle that made his heart sing.

Delicately, he placed it on the dresser.

“This will compliment you.”

He stood silent for a second, thinking if you would wear it on your own. Something told him you would just leave it sitting on the dresser forever.

“Here,” he took your hand in his, gently placing the bracelet on your wrist. He clasped it and admired the way it looked even more beautiful on you. To him, each fiber of your being was infinitely more precious than the rarest diamonds in the world.

He had never seen anyone more beautiful, and he wished not to. When you descended the porch steps, he felt like a footman taking out a princess on her ride. He was mesmerized by the simple yet graceful features that taunted him, inviting him in.

Taehyung had Wo Bin drive you both to the ball. Taehyung handed you a sparkling rhinestone mask, the wings around the eyes rising gracefully in showers of gemstones. The costume ball was essentially a masquerade, and he had gotten the best masks he could lay his hands on.

“Take my hand, remember, no silly behavior.” He briefly glanced at your belly, driving home his point.

“Stop fucking threatening me all the time, bitch,” you hissed, scowling when he responded with a lazy grin.

The entire ballroom was abuzz with people clad in their best clothes, complete with masks of every color, style, and material. Taehyung’s chest was stretched to the max with pride as he waltzed through the floors with the most beautiful woman that night on his arm.

A couple hours later, you were weary to the bone. “I’m tired, I wanna throw up.”

He rolled his masked eyes. “Right. Stay here, I’ll get you water.”

He turned around as an afterthought. “Want me to walk you to a bathroom?”

You shook your head, indicating you were fine enough to just sit.

“ ’Kay.”

He went off, leaving you seated in a comfortable chair.

He was, however, interrupted mid-way by a woman dressed in a jade green dress with a deep neckline that left almost nothing to the imagination. The Venetian mask lent an air of mystery to her ombre eyes.

“Mr. Kim,” her voice was hauntingly thick with desire.

She placed her index finger delicately against his tux, poking him. “I’ve been fantasizing about you for years.”

He couldn’t form a coherent comeback. He was a man who prided on never being tongue-tied while facing a woman. But the simple statement had such force that it knocked his thoughts out like bowling pins.

“Uh, excuse me, I have to-“

She traced her fingers on his arm, patting him slowly, whispering:

“Please stay.”

He couldn’t believe how tongue-tied he was. He flashed his left hand at her, declaring in a harsh tone:

“I’m sorry but I’m married. Very happily so.”

“Is that true, though?” Her voice dropped even lower. “You are married, yes, but have you been loved back? Why pine after a hopeless fruit while another aches for you?”

He shook his hand free, annoyed. Very much annoyed that she was stating the bitter truth that his heart refused to believe.

“Excuse me, I have to go back to my wife.”

“Maybe you could at least dance with me once?”

His jaw tightened.

“No, thank you.”

She pouted her crimson lips, sadness clouding her eyes.

“I thought so.” She touched his elbow with a smooth “At least a peck on the cheek for your admirer?”

He bent his neck, intrigued by the strange woman, but she took him by surprise, going instead for his lips.

Her tongue snuck out and outlined the curve of his upper lip before her mouth pressed against his. Startled, he took a step back and his gaze dropped to the cleavage she was generously offering. She giggled naughtily, winking at him. Damn the woman.

The hot feeling in his cheeks didn’t go away for a good five minutes, and he was still pink when he returned with the glass of water he had set out to get.

He frowned when he saw a tall man talking to you, bending in half to address you.

“You, you are just a gold-digging bitch, you whore,” the masked man was saying, just as Taehyung materialized behind him.

“Excuse the fuck, did you just fucking insult my wife?”

The man straightened up, turning to glare at Taehyung. His mask did nothing to hide who he was. The hooded eyes, the tall lithe frame, the rich timbre of voice, all screamed Kim Namjoon.

He dug his hands into his pockets, staring at Taehyung with menace.

“Yes, I called her out for jumping on another dick as soon as she could.” He focused his most hostile leer at Taehyung before adding “The dick being attached to you of all people.” He didn’t stop, spewing more hate as he addressed you:

“Are you sure the baby is Yoongi’s, Y/N? Did he ever know what a cunt you are?”

The anger was so hot that Taehyung felt like his brain would short circuit. He balled his fists, ready to shatter the mouth that had spoken so ill of you.

Before he could do any damage though, you grabbed hold of his hand, tugging at him harshly.

“Take me home, I feel sick.”

He sent Namjoon one withering glance and exhaled angrily. Namjoon would pay later. He would make sure of it. He guided you out, practically shaking in fury. He texted Wo Bin to meet both of you on the porch. He was zoned out, and you asked something that just flew out his ear. When you slapped his elbow, he caught your words just in time.

“Is that lipstick on your mouth?”

Taehyung creased his eyebrows, turning back to consider something. The masked woman, she had licked his mouth before kissing. It was a kink of his to lick your lips. How did she know that he loved doing that to you?

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

The way Namjoon had spoken to you felt like a cold slap to the face. If that was what he thought, was that what everyone else thought of you too? The whole social circle of which you and Taehyung were a small intersecting arc, did it think you were a gold-digger too?

The shame enveloped and consumed you, the flames of hatred licking at your heart. Your entire life was ruined by Taehyung. Only he was responsible for all the mess. Everyone seemed to focus only on you. He was in the background like an innocent bystander; but all the while, he was the puppeteer who pulled all the strings, bending everything to his will.

A bitter cold war was brewing between you and him, growing in intensity by the second. You had avoided him for days, slipping like an eel whenever his footsteps sounded. Every night, you slept on the couch, only to wake up on your side of the bed in the morning.

It was hard to sleep. Because you were constantly worried that he would violate you while you were sleeping.

You didn’t know that Taehyung spent three-quarters of the night perched on the steps of the staircase, waiting for you to drift to sleep. He silently swooped in and carried you to bed each night, making sure to tuck you in comfortably.

A few weeks later, you dressed up in a loose black hoodie and attempted to sneak out for a walk. But just as always, he caught you. He had casually blocked you with an outstretched hand, looking at you oddly.

“What the heck are you wearing?”

You tried to force your way out, but man was he strong.

“Get out of my way, Taehyung.”

He blew out his cheeks, shaking his head in disapproval.

“That hoodie is the opposite of flattering on you, honey.”

Curling your fists, you hit him on his arm, trying to make him move.

“I don’t care, so let me go,” you hissed at him.

“I care about my wife’s fashion choices,” he replied, reaching out to grab the hoodie. But just as quickly, he drew his hand back in shock.

“What the…” he whispered, horrified, reaching his hand out again.

His fingers gingerly pressed against your belly, feeling the small bump that was evident to the touch. He started back in horror. It really was growing. The reality hit him like a harsh slap. Min’s child was really growing inside you.

In one swift motion, he gathered you up in his arms, deciding that he couldn’t waste any more time. He couldn’t wait forever.

Dragging you upstairs to the bedroom, he led you to stand by the bed. His face was ablaze with hot emotion, his dark eyes gleaming with fiery hunger. He shrugged his suit off in haste. Long slender fingers gripped your hoodie, lifting it up to reveal the soft protrusion he had touched earlier. He looked panicked, like a guy who had missed the last airplane bound home.

“I can’t wait any longer,” he breathed, gently trying to undress you. “Forgive me, I am out of time.”

He pressed kisses on the side of your neck, lifting the hoodie up inch by inch until the cups of your bra were visible.

“Oh, Y/N, I-“ his voice was strangled, “- I can’t,” his hands found purchase at the small of your back. “I can’t take you when you are ripe with his child, I can’t wait that long.”

He eased you out of the hoodie, holding your hands to prevent you from covering your bra-clad breasts. He had only entered you once, he hadn’t forced himself into you since the day Yoongi died.

It had been his desire to wait for you to want him. But nature always liked complicating things. He couldn’t bear to think that you would be heavy with child in a few months, and would be busily occupied with the baby for months after that. No, he had no choice.

He was sliding your pants off when you half-choked out: “You could just… let me go.”

The wetness of your cheeks broke his heart. But your words had hurt him more.

“No. No, I can’t. You are all I have.”

“You know that’s not true,” you whispered.

The pained look returned to his face.

“No. It should have been me.” He gestured to your belly. “That should have been mine.” A tear rolled down his cheek, and he sniffed. “It should have always been me.”

“Taehyung- “

His lashes were moist and he shook his head, not wanting to listen.

“You were meant to be mine. Don’t you see?” His haunted eyes were tender, his raw feelings on display just for you.

“Do you- do you even like me?”

You remained silent, nothing but underwear bridging the gap between you and nakedness. His face contorted in pain.

He shuddered and shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, pulling both your hands above your head and pinning them in position. His other hand gingerly traced the outline of your bra. He licked his lips, looking into your eyes as he dipped a finger between your breasts, running it along the elastic strap and leaving your skin riddled with goosebumps.

His finger continued running down your midriff, stopping at your belly button. He closed his eyes and pretended that the bump didn’t exist, hurrying to slip his hand into your undies. It fanned his ego to feel your wet folds.

“See, your body likes it, hm? Why do you rebel so much?”

He leaned down to sniff your hair, greedily inhaling the scent like a man dying of thirst. He removed the hand pinning yours with a warning squeeze. Just as quickly, his hands flew to your breasts. His touch was ever so tender. He gently kneaded the soft flesh, moaning out as a little bit of areola peeked out of your bra. The self-control snapped, and he pulled the cups down, exposing your squished breasts.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he sounded so raspy, “Fuck, you’re so goddamn beautiful.”

Like a man in a trance, he dipped his head in the valley of your chest, nestling there, letting out the weakest of whimpers. His fingers worked feverishly to get the damn bra off you. He threw it across the room, burying his head in your bosom with a contented sigh.

There was a stark contrast between you and him. He was fully clothed, and you were in only your undies, entire chest open to his view. It led you to feel even more weak and vulnerable. When your hand tried to shield your breast though, he caught it, his voice came out from between your soft mounds in a muffled whisper:

“Don’t.”

He gathered both your breasts in his hands, moaning thickly as he rubbed his face against them. His tongue found your nipple, giving tentative licks before full-on sucking on the nub. He was a passionate man, and your breasts were glistening with saliva by the time he was done worshipping them. His mouth let go of the nipple with a soft plop, the dark eyes focused on your own the whole time.

His tongue drew a line from the middle of your ribs down to your navel. He paused at the elastic band of your undies, working on tugging it down. But impatience got the better of him, and he cursed, ripping the fabric easily as if it were the weakest of paper. He touched the wet patch on the crotch and looked at you, dangling the ruined fabric above your forehead.

“See. Y/N? See how wet you are for me?”

You didn’t reply. He gripped your chin, yanking it so his breath fell directly on your mouth.

“Kiss me, Y/N.”

When you didn’t attempt to kiss him, he straddled your hips, crashing his mouth down on yours. But the kiss wasn’t passionate, nor was it anywhere near romantic. You just wouldn’t open your mouth and let his tongue in. He could have kissed a pole and gotten a better reaction than yours.

It kindled the embers of rage in his heart, and he undid his tie, tying it around your neck like a noose. His shirt and pants were still on, and he rolled the long end of the tie until the fabric started tightening around your neck.

“Up,” he said, tugging the tie and making your head rise from the bed a bit. Holding onto it like a leash, he pulled your upper body was hovering precariously above the bed, both your hands holding onto his shoulders lest you fall and snap your neck.

“Now,” he hissed, “Lick my tongue”

The tie-noose tightened around your neck, threatening to cut off your airflow. You hoisted yourself up, shaking as your sight started to blur.

“Can’t” you heaved, “breathe.”

The fabric didn’t relax one bit.

“Hurry up and lick my tongue then.”

You blindly slashed at the air to find his mouth. Right on the verge of blacking out, you thrust yourself at him, begging entry into his mouth with desperate licks. Once you felt the hot muscle, you lapped at it, and just as quickly, the tightness eased, making you gulp mouthfuls of him, your body struggling to get your respiration back to normal.

“You bast-“

He thrust himself at you again, muttering:

“Shh. Lick me again,” and dipping his tongue into your mouth.

He moaned, chest vibrating against yours with the intensity of his strangled groans. When he broke the kiss, a string of saliva connected your mouth to his, a big bead hanging in the middle, the weight making it drop and splotch on your thigh.

He leaned back working on his shirt buttons. They didn’t open fast enough, and he started ripping the buttons off, eyes locked on your nipples. When he tore the fabric away from his body, his whole wide chest was naked, save for a thin chain around his neck. It had what looked like a silver key for a pendant, you weren’t sure as it kept dangling with his every move.

He remained in his pants, gathering your body and pressing you against his chest. A strained moan escaped his lips, and he trailed kisses down your neck, past your shoulder blade. His tongue flicked out to reach places his lips couldn’t.

One hand cupped the slight hint of your bump, prodding gently but also warning you against doing anything stupid. He pulled your hand towards his crotch, placing it on his clothed bulge.

“See,” he moaned, “See what you do to me?”

He stroked his bulge with your hand, fighting the urge to close his eyelids and lose himself in bliss. He had been hard for so long. Too fucking long.

“Take me out.”

His whisper sent a shiver up your spine. But you didn’t move. You didn’t have a choice to stop it. But you had the choice to not comply.

He cursed, too impatient to reprimand you. He unzipped his pants, leading your hand to his hard dick. He closed his hand over yours, effectively jerking himself off with your hand.

“Fuck, baby, that’s it,” he threw his head back, snapping his eyes open just as quickly when you gripped his dick too tight. Intentionally, of course.

“What the fuck?” He pushed you onto your back, dragging you by the legs into position. All the tenderness had evaporated from his countenance.

“You really want to screw this?” He hovered his body over yours, menace evident in the curl of his lips. The squirming pissed him, and a swift slap landed on your cheek, accompanied by an angry “Fucking behave, Y/N.”

“Get off me,” you bit out, aware of the drool sliding down your chin.

“No,” he said, humping his dick against your pelvis. “You are mine. Don’t fight this. He’s not coming back. He’s dead.”

He saw the tears kindling, and added cruelly:

“Because of you.”

“Stop saying that,” you screamed, trying to knee him in the groin. But he only laughed.

“You always complicate things, Y/N. I only want to make love to you.” He sighed innocently. “But you just make it so difficult.”

His forearm dug into your neck, preventing your head from moving. His other hand snaked down to your soaked clit, rubbing circles on your sensitive pearl.

“Who was always a bitch in heat for Min’s dick, huh?”

The question left you speechless. He smirked.

“Who loved to ride his thigh and get her ass spanked?”

“Shut up, shut up.” you couldn’t think of any other reply. How did he know all of that?

He simply shrugged.

“Okay, sure. I’d rather fuck you than talk about your dead man.”

He really wanted to eat you out. But he knew you would kick him in the face if he tried to. Maybe he should get restraints before trying that. Besides, his dick was already aching with being hard for so long. He slid his pants off completely, getting in position, aligning himself with your entrance.

He placed his forearm against your belly, deciding it gave him better leverage that way. Looking down, he inched himself forward, watching in fascination as he disappeared into you, your bodies becoming one. Just like they had always been meant to be.

The silky walls were tight around him, and he held on for dear life. You were going to be the death of him.

“Fuck, ah, fuck,” his breath constricted, the finality of actually being inside your velvety folds driving him crazy in exhilaration. He set a fast pace, snapping his hips into yours as if his life depended on it.

“Tell me how it feels, baby,” he cooed, “to know you killed Yoongi for this cock.”

Your whole face burned in rage.

“No, you tell me, how it feels to know you killed a good man for a piece of pussy.”

He chortled, not slowing down in the least.

“Awesome, really,” he panted out, licking his lips as he kept thrusting. “I can kill a whole army for this pussy.” He was not ready yet to say ‘It’s not just your body, it’s you I want. The whole you.’

He pulled the tie around your neck, telling you to get on all fours.

“I can’t dumbfuck, I’m pregnant,” you spat out.

He simply flipped you over, crossing both your hands over your chest so you were kneeling on the bed, with his hands pressing your wrists against your breasts.

“Shit, baby, how are you so tight? Guess he never filled you like I do, huh?”

His tongue licked the back of your ears as he kept thrusting. You were doing your best to not make any sound. You didn’t want to give him that satisfaction.

“Tell me,” he panted, driving himself deeper, “Tell me I’m bigger than him.”

His finger slipped into the tie-noose, twisting the knot.

“Say it.”

You were sure he wouldn’t stop. Panic flooded your body, jumping into escape mode.

“Fine, you’re bigger.”

A dark chuckle rang throughout his chest, making your breasts bounce as aftermath.

“Be more specific, baby. Describe it.”

There was another tight twist, and you gave up.

“Your dick, it’ bigger, it’s- Fuck, I can’t breathe- It’s thicker, it’s longer, okay?”

He smiled into your skin. Gently loosening the tie, he kissed the light welts around your neck.

“Let me hear it again.”

“You’re bigger than him,” you repeated in defeat.

“Fuck yeah, that’s my girl. Cum around me, baby.”

His groans were loud and animalistic, like those of a man possessed. His pounding got frantic, rattling the headboard and eliciting curses from your parched throat.

God, how he wanted to fuck Min’s spawn out of you and fuck his seed into you instead! The thought sent him spinning into his climax, releasing hot ropes of cum into your tight walls. The growls from his chest chilled your blood. He held you incredibly tight against him, riding his wave out, clutching onto your ribs in passion.

The shivering sigh blew against your ears, and he gently pulled out, kissing down your shoulders and back as he did so. Your knees gave out, sending you collapsing down, but his hands caught you just in time.

When he had finished prodding and poking his fingers in your clit to feel his cum, he uttered in a ghost of a whisper:

“You cummed for me, baby.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Were you ready to kill Taehyung? To be frank, you didn’t really know. It was an idea that had crossed your mind millions of times. But taking another life was too horrible to even comprehend. On the other hand, it was a fact that he would continue to make your life hell.

It was a difficult decision, but one you had to face. Were you doomed to live forever with him? Take all his obsessed declarations of love for you? Live in constant fear that he would hurt your child?

Was it worth killing a human for peace? You looked down at your baby bump. He was going to be a terrible father to your baby. The orange canister by the lawn was just alluring. Was all the solution you ever needed in a can of garden pesticide?

The throbbing of your heart was so loud you were sure the guard could hear it. But now you were not just any woman. You were his boss’s wife. Hell, every guard in the fucking house addressed you respectfully.

“Mrs. Kim?” The man stepped towards you with a question on his eyebrows.

“I want the lawn to myself for some time.”

Usually, there were no guards by the pool. Taehyung would pluck their eyes out if any of them snuck up on you while swimming. But the lawn was a different story. There were a lot of guys walking around with guns. It surprised you to see them file out of the lawn like a bunch of disciplined kids.

But you knew their focus would be on you anyway. They didn’t serve you, they served Taehyung.

Making an elaborate show of tending to flowers and picking weeds, you loudly muttered at the gardener’s apparent failure to keep the flower beds weeded out. Kneeling down near the orange can, you unscrewed the lid with an air of ignorance.

“Foul smelling shit, what the hell is it?”

The can toppled over your dress, soaking the cotton. Just like you had expected, a man shot out of nowhere, hurrying to your side.

“Are you alright, Mrs. Kim?”

You batted your eyelashes inoocently at him.

“I- yes, I need to change. I think gardening and I don’t mix.”

He accompanied you inside, turning back to leave. Once upstairs, you nervously wrung out the poison from your soaked skirt.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“What’s that?”

Taehyung had asked sooner than you had expected. You feigned surprise at the question, looking over to where his eyes pointed.

“Oh, nothing.”

Much to your chagrin, he nodded and went back to tapping on his phone. What if he didn’t ask again? Well, you could try again later. Patience. You couldn’t get caught.

Getting up slowly, you danced your way to the fridge. You peeked at the contents, closing it with a sigh. Turning to look at the counter, you absently reached for the cup. You were cradling it in your hands, and just as you let your lips touch the rim, he raised his head.

“Coffee?”

You shook your head. “Protein shake.”

He placed his phone on the coffee table, gazing intently at you.

“Well, aren’t you going to drink it?”

“Oh, yes.”

You sipped from the cup, not minding his stare boring into your face. He leaned back, spreading his arms on the sofa. His face was unreadable. When your throat bobbed after the last bit of drink, he raised his eyebrows mildly.

“Done?”

You shrugged your shoulders, without answering. He considered your face for quite some time, before his curiosity got the better of him.

“So, should I call the ambulance?”

You bit back a grin.

“What for? I’m not in labor yet.”

He watched you suspiciously before giving up.

“I know about the pesticide.”

You stifled a yawn. “Of course you do. And?”

He knew you were smart. You were a fighter. There was no way you would drink a cup of poison to get away from him. The poison surely had been intended for him. But he had just watched you down the cup without flinching.

“And,” he said, face serious, “Why don’t you get on with it?”

“What exactly do you mean?”

His passive demeanor broke, leaving his face twisted in vulnerability.

“You want to kill me.” You flinched at the word ‘kill’.

“So, go on and kill me, Y/N.”

Your eyes met, and you reached for a cup wordlessly.

“Not a fresh cup. I want to drink from yours.” He pressed his fingertips together, watching you as you poured out milk. He hated coffee. And you knew. He saw you drop one sugar cube in, just like he liked. The warm flutter in his heart died just as quickly when he saw you reach into the spice cupboard, extracting a pill bottle.

You tipped the bottle and liquid fell out of it, rippling and disappearing in the small white whirlpool of milk. Without a word, your fingers reached for a spoon and stirred the cup. His stare was burning into your skin. Your own heart felt like lead, so heavy and drenched with guilt.

His fingers had a subtle tremor when he reached to accept the cup. Placing it on the coffee table, he smiled at you.

“I love you, Y/N.”

It was a lie, you were sure. He only wanted to ruin Yoongi. He never loved you.

There was nothing to say. You didn’t believe him.

He drew a sharp breath, meditating if he wanted to speak his mind.

“If I die in your hands, your baby and you will be left alone, Y/N. Penniless. But you will get your independence, yes.” He paused, a suspicious watery film glinting under his lashes. “You can be happy and raise your child on your own. But you will return to me in the end.”

The arch of your eyebrows creased your forehead, asking the question your lips failed to.

The smile reached his eyes, a manic shadow casting a fearsome look on his face.

“Whenever, wherever you die, you will be interred in the Kim crypt, just next to me. We will be together even in death.”

The entire breathing mechanism of your body stopped working.

“What? But that’s –“

He flowed on, seemingly uninterrupted.

“And Y/N, the place where Min Yoongi is buried, the secret, it will die with me.”

Without hesitating, he grabbed the handle and drew the cup to his lips. The warm milk touched his lips, the fumes from the poison overwhelming his nose.

[the-hopeless-haze]

Someone You Have to Let In (Being Alive Chapter 7)

A/N: this is another long one - like 5-6k words? IDK! Someone needs to stop me lol. This chapter gave me so much grief so I hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: mentions of past abuse, suspect gets handsy; par for the course for SVU episode

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PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Rafael walks up the stairs to the precinct, his pulse racing and his heart pounding in his ears. Even his stomach feels queasy, and he can’t remember the last time he was ever this anxious. Olivia called him at one in the morning, saying she needed him there to talk about where they could get with this case. She never mentioned you - and he knew you were set up to be the thirst trap. Why wouldn’t she say anything about how you were? All he can think is the worst, and of course, she wouldn’t say anything to him. She may have suspected something was going on between the two of you, but she was never going to push his buttons and call him out on it over the phone. But that also meant that if you were hurt... he’d be the last to know. You hadn’t called him on your own, either, so something must have happened.

And sure enough, when he gets to the bullpen you’re at your desk, alone, huddled in a shock blanket, staring listlessly at the walls. Your makeup is done up like a working girl’s, all heavy dark eyeshadow and red lipstick, and he can see peeks of a tight sequined black dress underneath the blanket and torn fishnets on your legs. Eventually, your gaze meets his and you furrow your brow in confusion as he walks quicker toward you.

“What’s the matter with you?” you ask.

“What's the matter with me? (Y/n), what the hell? Why didn’t you call me?” he asks frantically. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Rafael,” you say as he kneels down in front of you. “Be quiet. They’re going to hear you and Sonny’s gonna be back any minute.“

“You think I care about that? What the hell happened?”

“Nothing! I’m fine. Olivia just didn’t want me in the room with him. It’s okay,” you mutter, shrugging. “I’m only wearing the blanket because I’m cold. Nothing happened to me.”

Rafael walks over to you and kneels down in front of you, peeling the blanket off to reveal fresh bruises and scratches, the imprints of another man’s fingertips and nails brandishing the skin of your shoulders. “Nothing happened to you? Bullshit. What’s all over your arms, cariño?”

“He got handsy. What did you think was going to happen? But do you honestly think Olivia would let anything worse than that happen to me? I’m okay,” you say defensively as tears build up in your eyes.

“You don't look okay! Why are you crying, then? (Y/n)--"

“Why are you yelling at me?” you cut him off, your voice straining as you wipe under your eyes with the back of your hands, black streaks of eyeliner smudging onto them. “Jesus Christ. You’re making me feel like I'm the one you're prosecuting. Go do your job. Don’t worry about me.”

But he did worry, now, because you had somehow figured out how to weasel into his life even though the No Vacancy sign was flashing. And it doesn’t even feel like a choice, it feels more like he owes it to you, and he’s honestly not sure how much he likes that. Still, though, he presses his lips to yours and takes off his suit jacket, draping it around your shoulders, giving you something of him to comfort you and put over the wounds someone else caused you. And isn’t that all love is? A healing balm for the pain we’ve been caused?

Rafael swallows thickly. He can’t be bothered to think of that now. He cares about you, but he doesn’t love you. Right?

Okay then.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you. Stop crying,” he says, trying to level his voice.

You laugh a little, a few tears still rolling down your cheeks. “Wow. You could teach a class on comfort. Stop crying? Who knew that was all anyone had to say?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do,” he whispers, reaching down and squeezing your hands.

“Hey. You got me to laugh. And anyway... It’s okay. I told you I’m fine.”

You don’t say anything else, and Rafael really doesn’t know what else to do, so he just kisses you, one of his hands leaving yours to smooth down your hair.

“I’m okay,” you whisper against his lips as you pull away. “You weren’t called here because of me. Go do your job.”

“(Y/n)—“

But he’s cut off from continuing because he hears the bullpen office door open and he glances up at you. “I told you Sonny was gonna be back,” you whisper, and your eyes are urging him to go but it’s too late. You’re still wearing his suit jacket and Rafael has your lipstick on his mouth. The unspoken “secret” is going to be spoken now, and fuck it, maybe it’s about time.

“Hey, (y/n), they didn’t have that tea you wanted so I got you a hot chocolate and... oh. I’m sorry. Am I interrupting something?” he says as he walks in, standing in front of your desk with a tray of hot drinks and a bag of pastries.

“No,” you say. “Rafael was just gonna go see what Liv needed.”

“I know that, but I mean...” His blue eyes dart between you and Rafael knowingly and he grins. “Guess you weren’t lying about the boyfriend just so I’d stop trying to set you up with my Fordham buddies.”

“No,” you say, winking at Rafael. “I deserve better than that, anyway. I like ‘em Harvard Law educated.”

Even Rafael has to laugh at that, especially when Carisi rolls his eyes as he puts the food down on his desk. “You got her dogging Fordham now, Barba? She used to be such a nice girl, too.”

“Mm. Rafael made me mean just like him,” you giggle, clearly having too much fun with this. “He’s an awful influence.”

“Well, damn. I guess Amanda was right. I mean, we all kinda figured, but... Amanda would’ve bet her whole life savings that something was going on. Well, good for you guys. You want me to keep my mouth shut, too, or...?”

“Can we trust you to?” you ask.

“Won’t even tell Sarge. Promise.”

“Mm. No. It’s okay, (y/n),” Rafael interjects was he glances at you. “I think it’s time we give up the charade, don’t you?”

“I’ve only been saying that for a good two months,” you tease, but you lean over and press your lips to the side of his mouth. Was this how you were going to be, now that you could show affection in front of them? Maybe this is part of why he wanted it under wraps; he didn’t want the squad to see just how much he had let you into his life. He has a reputation to uphold, and a lot of it was built on the fact that he came off as stoic, stern, and standoffish. And yet, with a simple touch, you destroyed that illusion and made it seem like the front that it was.

“Olivia’s going to be wondering where you are. I’m fine. Go,” you tell him, and he nods, squeezing your hand again before getting up and heading down the hallway to meet her.

The case seemed simple enough, although he needs a positive ID from the rape victims and the suspect wasn’t budging. He kept telling Amanda that you wanted it, and it’s all Rafael can do to not break through the glass and choke him out. And it’s not that Rafael was jealous, because he wasn’t. As long as you wanted him more than others, that was all that mattered, and he knows you’d never want this son of a bitch in a million years. But he’d never quite had the sympathy for upset significant others in these situations until now. Listening to this asshole talk in hypotheticals about what he’d do to you? Thank god you weren’t subjected to listen to this.

“Sorry for waking you up,” Olivia says. “But thank you for coming. I wanted to know what you thought when we brought him in.”

“It’s fine, Liv,” he says. “I don’t sleep anyway. Besides, it’s always good to get ahead. Is (y/n) set to testify? She’s going to need to, considering she was bait and...I know that can be difficult for her. I just want this airtight.”

“She’s just a little shaken right now. Did you talk to her when you came in?”

“Yes. You know what happened to her, though, when she was younger, don’t you? I just don’t think it’s fair to have her be the one who draws the suspects out like that, considering..."

Olivia’s eyes widen and she touches his shoulder, forcing him to look at her worried facial expression. “Did she say something to you? I know she can push herself too far sometimes, but I wouldn’t have allowed this if I thought she wasn’t able to handle it.”

“No. I think she can handle it. I just don’t think she should have to.”

Her hand squeezes his shoulder gently before letting go, and she gives him a tight smile. "I know. It's really sweet that you care so much, though, Rafael. I guess you really do have a soft spot for her, hm?"

"Oh Jesus Christ, Olivia. Just say that you know I've been seeing her outside of work,” he sighs exasperatedly.

Olivia laughs, her brown eyes gleaming. "I was wondering if you were ever going to tell me. Carisi catch you?"

"Maybe."

"So how long? Amanda thinks six months, but I wasn't sure."

Rafael snickers. "You need to keep her on a leash. But no. She's right. It's been about six months."

"Well, good for you, Rafael."

���So what happens now?”

“You take her home.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah. That’s it.”

“You’re not upset?”

“Upset? Why would I be upset? I think you two are good for each other. You keep her grounded, she keeps you young.”

Rafael scoffs. “Nice armchair psychoanalysis.”

“Is that why you tried to keep it hidden, though? You thought I was going to be upset?”

“I don’t know. I’m a lot older—“

“Not my concern. If she's okay with it, who am I to intervene? She’s not someone I ever pictured you with, but... like I said. You’re good for each other, and I trust you to keep things in line. You have so far.”

“Maybe not, if everyone figured it out."

"Well, you may be careful to a fault, Rafael, but subtlety is not your strong suit."

"Do I want to know what that refers to?"

"Probably not," she says, her brown eyes teasing. "But I was sitting next to you at the bar a few weeks ago and that's when I knew without a shadow of a doubt."

It takes Rafael a minute to think back to what she might be thinking of - so what, he left abruptly? Amanda was the one who got you two in a cab together... and then he remembers his hands between your thighs and your hands between his, and he feels his face flush of its own accord. "I'm sorry--"

"Keep in mind that I have eyes, and this is fine with me, okay?" Olivia laughs. "You might have a tougher time with the D.A., though."

Rafael shrugs, willing his blush to cool down. "I'll deal with it when the time comes.”

Just then, Amanda and Nick come out from the interrogation room, and immediately Amanda’s saying, “Hey, what’s got Barba all flustered? (Y/n) in that dress too much for him?”

Rafael shoots Olivia a glare. “That leash? It needs to be about ten inches shorter.”

Olivia chuckles and looks at Amanda. “Cat’s out of the bag, Amanda. You were right. He just admitted it.”

“Son of a bitch,” Nick sighs. “I can’t believe I’m going to be out $100 for this shit.”

“You actually bet on us?” Rafael asks incredulously. “You two are unbelievable. I thought you weren’t supposed to gamble, Rollins?”

“It’s not gambling when you know you’ll win, is it?” Amanda grins. “Thanks for the $100, Barba.”

“Yeah, no problem,” he snarks.

“You charging him so we can get out of here?” Nick asks.

“Yeah. Attempted assault for now so we can book him,” Rafael says, nodding.

Rafael talks to the suspect’s lawyer and has a conversation that will give him a headache into tomorrow, but there isn’t much to be said when there’s footage of him grabbing you thanks to cameras set up outside the club. And for the first time, he gets to leave the precinct with you without staggering your departure times so the squad didn’t see you leave together. He's surprised at how nice it is, even if he could do without Amanda and Carisi's comments.

“I told you it wouldn’t be so bad if they knew. I honestly don’t think they care as much as you thought they were going to,” you say as you walk with him down the stairs, your hand in his. You’re still clad in his suit jacket, wearing it like it was yours now, even buttoning one of the buttons toward the top.

“Still. It’s not exactly appropriate that we’re seeing each other.”

“Yeah, I know. But thank you for coming around.”

Rafael doesn’t say anything, just hails a cab. You lean your head against his shoulder as you wait, your tousled hair brushing against his lips. “Are you sure you’re alright? I watched the footage and—“

“I’m fine, Rafael. Really. Bruises will heal.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

You’re about to answer but a cab pulls over and you get in wordlessly, Rafael following. He thinks you’re about to continue, but you don’t, you stay silent.

“(Y/n)? Talk to me,” he says gently after a few moments.

You draw in a breath, nodding slowly. “Yeah. I’ll be alright, honey. I mean, I had to expect that would happen. This is what happens when you’re the youngest female detective on the squad... and... let’s just say I look forward to getting older.”

“They can’t force you to go undercover like that. I can talk to—“

“No. You’re not talking to anyone for me, tough guy,” you say, smiling softly. “It’s not like that. I offered. I hate doing it, but...whenever I do, I just think about how I’m going to get away practically unscathed because I have a whole team of detectives watching out for me. What about all those girls who don’t have that? I’m doing it for them, so we get these pieces of shit off the street. It’s just... what gets to you is them looking at you like another piece of meat. That’s what haunts me, that’s what’s going to keep me up at night... but I’m okay.”

“It doesn’t sound like it! Jesus Christ.”

“It was worse doing it for homicide in Boston, looking into eyes that envisioned you dead,” you say, and Rafael feels a shiver run up his spine. “Believe me. I’ve had worse nights.”

“I just don’t think you should be doing it at all, though, given what happened to you—“

“It’s part of the job. It’s not the same. I expected this,” you murmur, and you’re silent for the rest of the ride, and you’re silent as you walk up to the apartment with him, and you’re silent as you take your makeup off in his bathroom, sullen tears slipping from your eyes down your cheeks. Rafael stands in the doorway, feeling that pit in his stomach grow stronger.

“Cariño? Why are you crying? Did I push you too far? I’m sorry.” He walks in, coming to stand next to you.

“It’s... the rape. Sometimes I still feel like I’ll never get over it.”

“Oh, bebita,” he exhales, his heart breaking a little, you seeping in through the cracks. In his career, he dealt with many victims of horrible things, men and women of similar circumstances to yours. He never quite thought about what happened to them after he prosecuted their rapists, never thought of the havoc it could wreak even decades later, and now he feels terrible for it. Who was he to think his prosecution of their rapists did anything more than placate them momentarily? “Did I do something wrong? I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’m sorry.”

“No. It’s not you. You’ve been so good,” you say, wiping your eyes with the tissue, a few leftover streaks of mascara bleeding onto it. “I don’t know. I was always told I’d never be a detective by my superiors in the academy, that I’d be stuck doing desk work because I was ‘too emotional’ or ‘too damaged’. I lasted a week in the Crimes Against Children Unit in Boston. A fucking week! The only reason I ever made it out onto the field was because the homicide lieutenant was desperate for staff. He would alternate between keeping the training wheels on and then taking them off, and it was just sickening. I never felt like a real detective. And here, I mean... Olivia’s like that too, kind of, but at least she only makes me step back when it is absolutely necessary. I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t have been a detective. It would’ve been nice to have one part of my life this didn’t touch.”

“Come here,” Rafael says quietly, because he doesn’t know what else to say, and he lets you into his embrace, hugging you tightly into his chest. “You’re a great detective, and I’m not just saying that, (y/n). But you don’t have to do this to do your job. I don’t see Carisi wearing skintight dresses and I don’t see him with bruises up and down his arms, and he still gets paid the same as you.”

“Mm, Sonny in a skintight dress? That’d be something to see,” you giggle. “But I told you why I do this. It’s not just because I want to prove myself to the NYPD, it’s to protect those girls—“

“Okay. That’s admirable. But you’re paying for it now. And who’s protecting you?” You lift your head from his chest to look at him incredulously; as if he just figured out the world’s most complex math problem, and maybe he did just figure out one of your enigmas. “Let’s get you out of this dress, hmm?”

“I don’t want to have sex tonight,” you murmur. “Sorry—“

“That isn’t what I meant,” he says quietly. “Don’t apologize to me.”

“Oh?” you ask, your brow furrowing even more. “I thought—“

"No. Come on."

And it's quiet as he unzips your dress, as you slip one of his shirts over his head, as both of you brush your teeth before heading to bed. Rafael thinks you fell asleep as you're still silent for a few moments, staying stiff on your side of the bed, but you turn over and say, "Thank you, Rafi."

"For what?"

"For being so understanding. For being here, you know?" you say, pressing your lips to his. "I don't like to bring up my exes, but a lot of them just didn't get it and they just made me feel like I was never gonna be normal."

Rafael pulls you into his chest, kissing the top of your head. "You deserve so much better than that," he says, all too aware of how hollow that statement is. Of course you did. But was he really that much better? And did you love those exes? Was that all you were destined for, loving men who would never let you into their lives? You'd probably picked the most emotionally unavailable man on the block this time. But he wants to let you in, needs to, even if it terrifies him. He does care about you that much, and you had weaseled your way into most aspects of his life.

Still, though, there was a huge part of his life you hadn’t been introduced to: his Mami.

He has to let you meet her. You’ve been asking, maybe even practically begging, and he has to now. There’s a list of men and women he slept with that his mother never met, and maybe that’s a sin, maybe that’s what will send him to hell, because yes, maybe those rules about abstaining from sex before marriage are antiquated, but at least your mother should meet her, preferably before you bang her. He was too late for before, now, but you have to at some point.

The problem was that he hadn't mentioned you to his mother at all.

"Six months, Rafael Eduardo Barba, six months, you been taking this girl out on dates, you been buying her dinners, having her over your apartment, sleeping with her, and you don't have the decency to tell your mother? Ay, what is she like? Is she bonita? Is she inteligente? Oh, Rafa, is she Catholic?" His mother's phone tangent almost never ended. She wanted to know everything about you down to your social security number. Part of it was probably due to the fact that he hadn't introduced anyone to his mother in at least three years, maybe five, and she hated the last woman with a passion. God, Rafael barely remembered her name now, and he thinks Alex set him up with her.

He almost thought his mother passed out when he told her how old you were. But then, of course, she said it was a sign from God and that you were going to give her at least three grandchildren, preferably five. It was always one of Lucia Barba’s biggest regrets that she only had one child, having grown up with seven siblings, but Rafael always saw it as a blessing in disguise. His father didn’t need any more targets.

God, that phone call was hell. But he has to let you into his family life, so... it was going out to dinner with his mother on a Wednesday night.

“When am I going to meet your parents?” He asks you at dinner while you’re waiting for his mother to show up.

You smile. “We’ll see.”

“Not really fair.”

“My parents are miles away. Your mother is a cab ride away. It’s really not fair that I haven’t met her yet.”

“You use up all your vacation days to go see your brother. You could’ve taken me to meet them any of those times. You’ve gone at least three times since we’ve started dating.”

“Well. You’re always busy when I go.”

“I can ask for time off, (y/n),” he says, but that thought is left on hold as his mother walks in the restaurant, heading straight for their table. He smiles when he sees her, getting up and hugging her and kissing her cheek.

You get up too, scooting out of the booth behind Rafael. You shake her hand. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Barba. I’m (Y/n).”

“Si, it’s nice to meet you too, sweetheart. You can call me Lucia. So. How did you meet my boy?"

“Work,” you say, sliding back into the booth before Rafael. “He works with the squad I’m on.”

“Yes. Special victims unit. Tough job. You must be a tough woman,” she says, sympathetically. “Now...You’re a lot younger than my boy,” she says after a few minutes and Rafael almost slams the table and walks out. God, he loves his mother but this wasn’t what he wanted to talk about.

“What is it, 15 years, give or take?” you ask, turning to Rafael.

“Seventeen,” he murmurs, feeling sick. He’s never felt so old. There was his mother, who had him at seventeen years old. What the hell did she actually think about him being with you?

“Do your parents know how old he is?” Mami asks.

You nod, which surprises him. He didn’t know you’d had that conversation. “He hasn’t met them yet, though.”

“Ay, at least you have a good excuse. They live away. You know, I haven’t met anyone in a few years. Rafa’s been a priest. Or didn’t like them enough to bring them to me. You must be special.”

Thankfully, the waiter comes over, takes everyone’s order, and Rafael is able to rein the conversation in a little, talk about work, the weather, anything other than the topics his Mami was particularly drawn to. You ask about his abuelita, and his mother frowns.

“She doesn’t get out much these days. We’re worried about her health.”

“She should be in a nursing home,” Rafael says, pursing his lips. “She’s stubborn, though.”

“Let her have one more Thanksgiving and Christmas at home, Rafa,” Mami says. “We can talk about that next year.”

“I’d love to meet her,” you say. “Rafael talks highly of her.”

“Ay, she raised him the days I couldn’t. We both owe her so much,” she says, her eyes welling up. “When’s the next time you’re free during the day? Come with Rafa and me and being her groceries. She really never gets to meet Rafa’s girlfriends.”

“I’d love to,” you say, smiling brightly.

"You know, Rafa tells me you cook. You want some recipes?" She asks you. "I've always wanted to pass down abuelita's recipes, but Rafael can barely make rice, and he's never had a girlfriend who could cook either, far as I know."

"I'd love them, thank you! Rafael's always asking if I know how to make Cuban recipes, but I don't."

"Rafael eats too much takeout. I worry about his blood pressure," his mother says.

"That's what I tell him!" you say and Rafael rolls his eyes. Of course his mother would find something to gang up with you on against him. Traitor.

His mother gets a cab, and leaves you and Rafael alone on the street. “Do you think she likes me?”

Rafael laughs, hugging you. “Yes. She wouldn’t give recipes to just anyone, believe me. It’d be hard to dislike you, cariño.” He lets you go, taking your hand in his as you walk down the street toward your apartment a few blocks away.

“Really? Because you hated me when we first met.”

“No, I didn’t. Why are you saying that?”

“You sure didn’t seem like you liked me.”

“I did. I always did.”

“Even when I told you off?”

“Mm. What did you say to me? No woman wants anything to do with me?”

“I guess I might’ve been wrong?”

“You think? I got you to stick around.”

“Hey. It’s been six months. Don’t get cocky. Anyone can do six months.”

He doesn’t say anything, just squeezes your hand. He hadn’t put in over six months with anyone in well, about six years. So maybe not anyone could, but he'd let you in, and you were staying, weren’t you?

“I like her. I see where you got a lot of things from.”

“Really? Everyone used to say I look like my father.”

“I don’t mean you look like her, I mean you act like her.”

“Oh,” Rafael says, pondering on that for a moment. Maybe he could handle looking into his father’s face in the mirror if his mother’s values were truly behind it. “When do I meet your parents?”

“Christmas?”

“Why not Thanksgiving?”

“Too soon.”

“How is that fair? And it’s two months away.”

“Fine,” you grumble. “Thanksgiving. All they do when they’re in the same room is fight. I’m not really looking forward to you seeing that.”

Rafael laughs. “Looks like I won’t get in a word in edgewise. Perfect first impression: they won’t even notice me.”

You chuckle. “They care. They’re good parents. But they shouldn’t have had children together, that’s a certainty."

——

His mother calls him that night, a few moments after he gets back to his apartment. “Mami, what are you still doing up?”

“Why didn’t you tell me about that girl?” she asks.

“What?”

“You heard me, Rafael. Don’t play stupid with me, not anymore.”

Rafael sighs. “I just didn’t. I’ve been meaning to.”

“You’re my son. I know when you lie to me. There’s a reason you kept her from me.”

“Mami, I’m 43,” he says heavily.

“I know how old you are, I was there the day you were born. You give me a good reason now, Rafael. Because I don’t understand it. She’s smart, she’s beautiful. She has a good job. I can tell she cares about you. Why did you think I wouldn’t like her?”

Rafael laughs, smiling against his phone. “I knew you’d like her. That’s why I haven’t mentioned her.”

“Ay, Rafael, you make no sense.”

“Yes. I’m aware.”

“So explain to your poor madre!”

“I didn’t want to get your hopes up,” he says softly.

“What? My hopes up for what?”

“Don’t make me say it,” he whispers.

“No. You say it, Rafael. Tell me so I don’t make any mistake.”

“I didn’t want you to get your hopes up in case I don’t end up marrying her!” The words hurt as they leave his mouth, turning around and stabbing him in the chest.

“But you did introduce me to her.”

And that’s where Rafael realizes his mistake.

“Do you want to marry this girl, Rafael?”

“I... I don’t know. You know how I feel about that—“

“Hmm. So you give me false hope anyway.”

“I care about her a lot, Mami.”

“But do you care about her enough?”

Well, that was the question, wasn’t it? He doesn’t know the answer. You two could never be perfect; could never be the ideal he had in his head because ideals weren’t real. Fairy tale romances didn't exist. So why try? Why get married, get tied down? Why not just keep a distance? You didn’t need to live with him, you didn’t need to take his last name, you didn’t need to have his children. You could just keep him company when he was lonely, and you could leave when he wasn't. And even now - you went back to sleep at your apartment because you had to wake up early the next morning to run with Amanda before work, and he had work to do tonight, and this way you didn't disturb him. It was just easier this way.

Right?

Maybe you didn’t want to get married at all, much less to an old man like him. You were still young, and you had years to settle down and figure things out.

Why was he hesitating? Men like him didn’t get women like you every day, and maybe that’s why men buy rings and ask for signatures on binding documents, he realizes with disgust. It’s why his father did it - his father was a decade older than his mother and he knocked her up and trapped her to a lifetime of suffering before she was legally able to vote or drink. Rafael didn’t want to be like that- you should feel free to leave him without worrying about divorce papers or the wrath of God.

Okay then.

If he could only have the good parts, it'd be fine. Waking up with you in the morning, your homecooked dinners that pull him away from his work just when he's getting fed up, the teasing that drives him up the wall but eases the tension in his shoulders... it's just, when you get upset and cry too much, when he's genuinely trying to work and you want to make out... and, oh, god, when you see him, when you just look at him and act like you know everything he's been through for the past four decades... It's too much. He doesn't want all of that.

Right?

Okay then.

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NEXT CHAPTER

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Trudeau promises massive covid stimulus

Canadian Prime Ministers have a fun gambit: when things start to go really badly for them, they "prorogue" (suspend) Parliament, which dissolves all committees, inquiries, etc, until such time as they are ready to reconvene, with a tabula rasa.

Most egregiously, the far-right asshole and climate criminal Stephen Harper prorogued Parliament in the middle of the 2008 Great Financial Crisis in order to avoid a no-confidence vote that would have triggered new elections.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2008%E2%80%932009_Canadian_parliamentary_dispute

While this DID save Harper's bacon, it also left Canada without a legislature during a global crisis that threatened the nation's entire future. It was a crazed, reckless thing to do.

Canada has a safeguard to prevent this kind of gambit: as a constitutional monarchy, Canadian parliamentary manoeuvres have to receive the Crown's blessing, in the form of assent from the Governor General, the Queen's rep to Canada.

This is the sober, apolitical adult supervision that fans of constitutional monarchies are always banging on about, and then-Governor General Michaëlle Jean completely failed to do her fucking job, leaving Canada without a Parliament during the GFC. She literally had one job.

Proroguing Parliament didn't just save Harper from a no-confidence vote: it also dissolved all the Parliamentary inquiries underway at the time, including the "Afghan detainee transfer" affair, which was investigating Canadian forces' complicity in the torture-murder of POWs.

In many ways, Trudeau is the anti-Harper: a charismatic Liberal who tells refugees they're welcome in Canada, marches with Greta Thunberg, and appoints the first-ever First Nations person to serve as Attorney General .

Truly, there is no policy so progressive that Trudeau won't endorse it...provided he doesn't actually have to make it into policy. Because many of his policies are indistinguishable from Harperism, albeit with a better haircut.

This started before he won the election, when Trudeau (whose father once declared martial law!) whipped his MPs to vote for a human-rights-denying mass surveillance bill, C-51.

Trudeau did so while insisting that the bill was a massive overreach and totally unacceptable, but claiming that the "loyal opposition" should still back it so as not to be accused of being soft on terrorism in the coming election. He promised to repeal it after.

Of course, he didn't.

Trudeau is often compared to Obama, a young and charismatic fellow who makes compromises, sure, but comes through in the clutch.

Tell that to pipeline protesters.

After the Obama administration killed the Transmountain Pipeline - the continent-spanning tube that would make filthy, planet-destroying tar sands profitable enough to bring to market - Trudeau bailed it out, spending billions of federal dollars to keep it alive.

Then, Trudeau - who campaigned on nation-to-nation truth and reconciliation with First Nations - announced that he would shove this toxic tar-sand tube through unceded treaty lands across the breadth of the naiton.

And then he had the AUDACITY to march with Greta Thunberg at the head of a climate march, demanding a change to policies that would see billions dead in the coming century.

HIS OWN policies.

I mean, Trudeau's boosters have a point - Harper NEVER could have pulled that off.

The Harper years were a Trumpian orgy of blatant self-dealing and cronyism.

The Trudeau years, on the other hand...

One of Trudeau's major donors is SNC Lavalin, a crime syndicate masquerading as a global engineering firm (think Halliburton with less morals).

SNC Lavalin had done so much crime that it was on its final notice with the Canadian legal sysem, a probation that it must not violate on penalty of real, big boy federal criminal prosecutions.

Then it did more crimes.

Remember Trudeau's historic appointment of a First Nations woman to the Attorney General's seat? Now was AG Jody Wilson-Raybould's moment to shine.

As Wilson-Raybould began aggressively pursuing these corporate criminals, she started getting calls from Trudeau's office.

For avoidance of doubt, these were not calls of support. They were demands to drop the case and let the SNC Lavalin crime syndicate get off scot-free. Eventually the PM himself called her and demanded that she give his cronies a pass on their repeated criminal actions.

Wilson-Raybould went public, decrying political meddling in the justice system. Trudeau denied everything and began to smear her (Harper had tons of scandals like this, BTW, only the counterpart was usually a rich old white guy, not a First Nations woman).

But Wilson-Raybould had recorded the conversations, and she released the recordings, and proved that Trudeau had lied about the whole thing. Trudeau fired her and kicked her out of the party.

But at least he's not Trump, right? He's the anti-Trump! (Well, except for the pipeline and that time he announced "No country would find 173 billion barrels of oil in the ground and leave them there").

Remember the Muslim Ban? As Trump was tormenting refugees at the US border, Trudeau tweeted "To those fleeing persecution, terror & war, Canadians will welcome you, regardless of your faith. Diversity is our strength #WelcomeToCanada."

Yes, that was awesome. There is no policy so progressive that Trudeau won't endorse it...provided that he never has to do anything to make it happen.

Canada and the US have a "Safe Third Country Agreement" that says that asylum-seekers turned away from the US border can't try again in Canada. To make #WelcomeToCanada more than a hashtag, Trudeau's government would have to suspend that agreement.

Instead, Trudeau's government insisted that under Trump, "the conditions of the Safe Third Country Agreement continued to be met" and thus they would not suspend the agreement and give hearings to those turned away by Trump's border guards.

But at least Trudeau handled the pandemic better than Harper handled the Great Financial Crisis.

No, really, he did!

Mostly.

I mean, unless you were in a nursing home or on a First Nations reservation.

https://www.canadalandshow.com/podcast/an-emergency-season-pandemic/

But still, Trudeau's government did a MUCH better job than the Trump government, or Boris Johnson's Tories. Neither Liberals nor Conservatives will really fight cronyism, climate change or authoritarianism, but there are still substantive differences between them.

But in some ways, they are depressingly similar.

Take corruption.

Long before the plague struck, Canadaland was publishing damning reports on We Charity, a massive, beloved Canadian charitable institution nominally devoted to ending child slavery.

Canadaland's initial reporting on the charity focused on its partnerships with companies that were using child slaves to make their products, but the investigations mushroomed after the charity sent dire legal threats to the news organisation over its coverage.

And then Canadaland founder Jesse Brown found himself smeared by a US dirty-tricks organization that got its start working for GOP politicians, who got a contract to plant editorials criticizing Canadaland's We coverage in small-town US newspapers.

Private eyes started following Brown around, even keeping tabs on his small children. Rather than being intimidated, Brown kept up the pressure on We, which prompted whistleblowers to leak him even more details about the charity's activities.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/08/03/turnkey-authoritarianism/#we-charity

These included massive, mysterious real-estate holdings, hard-to-excuse criminal investigations of its Kenyan activities, and (here's where I've been going with this all along) GIANT CASH PAYMENTS to Trudeau's family, as well as valuable gifts to his Finance Minister.

And, as with the Wilson-Reybould affair, Trudeau's initial response to this was to simply deny it, calling his accusers liars. But then the scandal kept unspooling, his Finance Minister quit in disgrace, the charity (sort of) folded up and shut down, and Trudeau...

Well, Trudeau prorogued Parliament, shutting down Canada's government in the midst of a crisis that was - unimaginably - even worse than the 2008 crisis that Harper had left the nation rudderless through to avoid his own scandal.

(Again, for constitutional monarchy fans, that's two entirely political proroguings in the midsts of global crises, signed off on by the Queen's supposedly apolitical and sober check on reckless activity)

Shutting down Parliament seems to have rescued Trudeau's government from snap elections, which may well have been won by the Tories, who have resolved their longstanding racist and plutocratic tensions with a new ghoulish nightmare leader:

https://jacobinmag.com/2020/09/canada-erin-otoole-conservative-party-cpc/

And, as Trudeau has reconvened Parliament, he's promised something genuinely amazing: a massive, national stimulus package meant to keep families, workers and small businesses afloat through the looming second pandemic wave.

https://www.reuters.com/article/us-health-coronavirus-canada-economy/canada-bets-the-farm-on-big-spending-as-second-wave-threatens-economic-recovery-idUSKCN26F1NF

This is something Canada - and the US, for that matter - desperately needs. Canada is monetarily sovereign: it issues its own currency and its debt is in the same currency, meaning it can never run out of money (no more than Apple could ever run out of Itunes gift cards).

The Canadian DOES face constraints on its spending, but they're just not MONETARY constraints - they're RESOURCE constraints. If the Canadian government creates money to buy the same things the private sector is shopping for, there'll be a bidding war, AKA inflation.

But as a new wave of lockdowns and mass illness looms over the country, there's going to be a hell of a lot of things the private sector isn't trying to buy - notably, the labour of the Canadian workforce, millions of whom will be locked indoors through the winter.

An analyst warns that Trudeau's proposal is likely to add CAD30B to the deficit, which is a completely irrelevant fact unless that new money is going to be chasing the same goods that Canadian business and citizens are seeking to buy.

Trudeau has promised to create a national prescription drug plan (a longstanding hole in Canada's national health care system), as well as universal childcare, and he's denounced austerity as a response to the crisis.

There's a part of me that is very glad to see this. My family and friends are in Canada, after all, and if Trudeau lives up to his promise, he will shield them from the collapse we're seeing in the USA.

But that is a BIG if. Trudeau isn't Harper. He's more charismatic, he's got better hair, and he says much, much better things than Harper.

However, when the chips are down, Trudeau out-Harpers Harper.

Mass surveillance legislation. Corruption scandals. Lying about corruption scandals. Bailing out the pipeline. "No country would find 173 billion barrels of oil in the ground and leave them there." Abandoning asylum-seekers to Trump's lawless regime.

"Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. The third time it's enemy action." It would be pretty naive to assume that merely because Trudeau has promised to do the right thing, that he will do the right thing.

Indeed, if history is any indicator, the best way to predict what Trudeau will do is to assume that it will be the OPPOSITE of whatever he promises.

I won't lie. I felt a spark of hope when I read Trudeau's words.

But hope is all I've got - and it's a far cry from confidence.

Or relief.

[popculturebuffet]

Star Vs: Monster Bash Review or “Holy Shit Concentrated Into An Episode”

Hello everybody! I’m Jacob Mattingly and welcome back to my tom lucitor retrospective, where I go through every major apperance of everyone’s faviorite demon boy boy. In case you watch my schedule or reguarlly read this blog, and if so thank you.. especially you Kevin your a peach, you’ll know this one got pushed back two weeks because the day it was scheduled.. was the day AFTER the US Capitol Insurgency. So yeah an episode HEAVILY dealing with racisim, with a downer ending and a lot to dig into on the same day a bunch of racists stormed the captail to try and illegally keep another racist in office due to his bullshit claims the electoin was fraud, when it wasn’t he just can’t admit he lost, and their own idocy, violence and hatred was not something I could handle that day and I did some mickey mouse instead.  But while the effects of said riot are still being felt, and unlike many republicans are saying we shouldn’t just “move on” or “try to heal” because the wound needs to be properly examined so the people who carved our country open with a rusty knife can be prosecuted for it, enough time has passed that I can get back on the horse and eat that horse when it comes to this episode. Also expect new tomtrospective weekly with some exceptions till it’s done. So with the real world reasons for the delay out of the way, on with the show.  Previously on Star Vs: Star had a full subplot dealing with her super powered mewberity form, which was now golden and creating bunches of portals. While she wanted to just let it go loose on Eclipsa’s suggestoin, eventually it caused too much damage and Hekapoo was livid when Marco revealed he’d been covering for her and Star, realizing her friend was running himself ragged and ruined a friendship to help her, went to the source of all magic to fix things, metting the baby unicorns and with thier help gaining control over her form. While she does not use it given she JUST got it before this episode, it’s very relevant and makes her come off very stupid but we’ll get to that

In more directly relevant stuff, and our main event, we need to talk about Ms. Henious. Ms. Henious was introduced all the way back in Season 1 as head of St. Olga’s School for Wayward princsesses. She’s voiced by Jessica Walter, aka Malory Archer, Lucille Bluth and .. Fran Sinclair from dinosaurs?

I’ll process that later. Point is she’s a talented lady and voiced Henious perfectly. Henious ran the school as a nightmarish hellhole that stripped away princsesses indviduality when they became too much for their parents. Granted some did genuinely need to be reigned in, Pony went there and so did princess squishy a princess that tried to reinact the plot of face off despite her and star not even being the same species let alone looking remotely similar.. she also liked to say camera phone a lot despite all phones being camera phones for over a decade. 

But again like most reform schools it’s a hell hole dedicated more to beating and psyihholically tourturing the rebel or asshole out of you than actually helping so Star and Marco broke in to break out. It naturally was difficult and strenious but in the process our heroes freed the other girls and Marco became feminsest icon Princess Marco. And Marco’s possible gender fluidity, or being trans,  was well loved and while he was later said to hate the princess marco idntenity later.. I still dont’ quite buy it and feel Disney just wanted to nip any implications in the bud. Because their stupid and often non-inclusive to the queer community and have to be fought to get inclusivity in there half the time. Could’ve been clumsy writing and the writers not getting people really relating to marco possibly being gender fluid or trans, which given this season’s clumsy writing with marco in general I could buy, but i’m banking more on disney, where one executive can somehow stonewall gay representation because apparnetly one guy was the one who objected to enchanting grom fright.. and he can also go fuck himself with an old rhino’s horn. Which horn is up to you. Also we got two major hints at the future iwth her: a creepy mural star found of monsters and Henious being revealed to have cheek marks she supressed with her very own brainwashing machine. 

Our heroes revolution had uintetional side-effects as St.O’s became a party school, though it’s students actually still came back better for the moast part. Henious was thrown out, reduced to sleeping in her car with her manservant gemini and sending Rasticore, a septarian mercinary afer star.. and then carrying his arm around when he got reduced to that.. not because of star but because of a rogue gift card. We don’t have time to unpack that, so she later tried attacking one more time in season 2, in one of the single worst episodes of the series, as she attacked and Marco’s Parents, instead of being concerned about the strange woman and man and lizard man arm attacking thier children, were more concerned about.. tehir cool neighbors. which could’ve been funny but just got frustrating, especially because Marco defended himself well, pointing out while he trashed her school, and gets merchandising rights from princess marco merch, she you know, brainwashed innocent to semi innocent children and was in general horrible and his parents are only humoring her because they were both out of hte loop, which due to this being shortly before star and marco leaves amounts to nothing, and because of the stupid plot. 

So after that we got one more apperance in season 3 with her trying to expose marco as a boy to turn the princsses against him and get her school back.. but it was clearly a desperate and flimsy plan and they knew that already, and don’t care because their accepting. And again have done better without her so she gets thrown out and swore revenge on Marco, and here we are.  Finally, since returning Star’s been more active in monster rights, replacing their old batshit insane and patronizingly racist expert with Buff Frog and starting a position to get royal signatures. Obviously this dosen’t sound like the most effective way to do things but it’s both teenager accurate and not the worst plan i’ve heard from a teenager this week.. granted that’s also because I covered a teenager trying to win back her good for not a lot 23 year old boyfriend by stabbing his current girlfriend he left her for a bunch, so it’s not exactly a high bar to clear. So outside of the golden form thing, which i’ll get to in the review proper why I brought that up, that’s what’s all built up to this the mid season finale. While Stump Day DID come after this, I chose to cover it before it since it both takes place before that and feels out of place in the very story heavy episodes after it. So with that out of the way we’ll be taking a look at the full episode and Star’s horrible, no good, very bad night under the cut. 

We open at the Monster Temple, that place Ludo and Toffee were headquartered at for season 2 and the battle of mewni mini, where Star is holding a PARTY!

This.. this came up when I typed party. I don’t know why and I don’t WANT to know. I mean party is in the name.. is that a party line? Is this phone sex? No.. just no.. I don’t want dirty sweaty pigs in my phone sex.. I want Rocko like a gentlemen. 

Now THAT’S hot. And honestly with what i’ve admitted about myself at this point, can you genuinely tell if i’m joking or not?  Point is Marco and Rich Pidgeon are pitching in. Oh yeah those of you who didn’t get this far in the series, again hi kevin, might wonder wait whose that... well he’s a rich pidgeon, part of the pidgeon kingdom a kingdom of pidgeons that moved into another family’s castle, presumibly killed them, the book wasn’t specific on that and is now just a large bunch of pidgeons that don’t talk human except rich and get all creepy. They also have an excutioner which is as great a visual as you imagine. 

That and Marco tried faking singing rich singing it by shving a pien in his foot and making him sign it.. he didn’t know he was fully sapient but still. But it’s also season 3 marco. The fact he didn’t accidently burn the castle down trying to impress star and being mad when she wasn’t happy he comitted arson is an achievement. Rich apparently holds a grudge but says just kiddng.. maybe.. i’d be prepared for a pidgeon with a machete if I were Marco. Thankfully i’m not.. I mean I hate myself enough. 

Anyways the party is in full swing, as both monsters and mewmans are there. On the mewman sides are the royals we met at the Silver Bell Ball and on the monster side are a bunch of monster teens who look up to star we previously met during the Ludo arc in season 2. Pony arrives bringing a photo booth. And kelly! 

And also Johnny Blowhole...

That dolphin what showed up a few times, including in the comic and the show, like most of it’s supporting cast, just sorta forgot. Also was going to be my porn name, just in case till it ended up attached to a fictonal teenager. Did.. did not think naming a character “blowhole” through did they? 

Anyways the party is at “middle school dance” levels of awkward with the monsters and humans on other sides. Rock seems to be getting ready for a racist tyrade and singles out a yak like monster.. only to instead compliment the guy’s ripped jeans and the two compliment each other on horns... turns out the ones Rock always wear aren’t decorative but part of him due to a boating accident. Shame we never got more of this kid. that’s a good kid I tell you what.  But honestly and since the moment is right given their all in this episode.. we never get a lot of the other royals outside of tom and star PERIOD. While Penelope would show up one last time and Larry would make a cameo for the most part their just.. background filler. Even this pettitoin arc was two episodes long. Rich is BRAND new and he gets way more focus.. and even he only gets to show up again for the big “Gondor calls for aid moment” in season 4 where star summoned whoever she could get on short notice. And is the ONLY royal to besides Ponyhead. Larry has an intresting enough design but the underwater kingdom only got featured in the deep trouble tie in comic that got cut short, and he wasn’t created yet so he doesen’t even show up for it. Jagg’s is such a footnote to the creators she dosen’t ever show up after this, and finally Rock, despite being star’s COUSIN and despite his kingdom being specifically mentioned as the hardest to make sympathetic to eclipsa during her own entirely ignored arc trying to win over the other kingdoms, and despite it being where River comes from and thus possibly providing some more insight into that awesome, awesome man.. we get nothing. Hell the Cloud Kingdom of the Ponyeheads ONLY gets two visits despite being home of one of the main cast.. god I just realized Ponyhead was part of the main cast. 

So while I grapple with that, Star figures the punch is too warm and while Marco goes to get ice, she tries to remind him she can do magic and accidently puts it in your standard cartoon ice block.. and being star gets her tounge stuck. Thankfully her savior comes in the form of tom who being.. you know.. tom.. can simply melt it down and reminds her he’s been there the whole time. She’s just been a bit distracted with you know, trying to ease centuries of racial tension in a well meaning but ultimately pointless at best and risky at worst, partay. And dosen’t seem to get WHY she dosen’t want to dance.. even if they do have a REALY fucking cute moment where he leans in to kiss her, she catches him on it.. then blows a raspberry into his mouth when he does and smooches him on the cheek a bunch. 

But the whole thing leaves him as a grumpus venting to marco and boiling the punch.. though at least Marco gets to use that ice now so silver linings and all that. And when marco tries to explain he tells him he dosen’t “talk politics”

My baby boy.. i’m so disapointed in you. And Marco points out as he leaves “your a prince everything you do is political. “. Which is.. HALF true. I mean tom going to the bathroom or eating a taco or taking his grandpa fo ra walk on his leash so he dosen’t gouge anyones eyes out isn’t political.. but he’s also not wrong that being the half demon half mewman son of two royals, DOES mean tom can come off political and one previous episode which he made a cameo in even had Tom being profiled, with a shopkeep who shoed out another monster kid tried that on tom.. only to realize who he was dealing with and beg for mercy he probably only got because Tom’s trying to be a better person now. And I don’t think i’ts even malcious on tom’s part, tom isn’t the most empathetic guy. He’s nice, he’s sweet, and once he knows you he can be really thoughtful.. but as we’ve seen throughout this retrospective.. empathy is something he’s struggled with. He stalked star because he didn’t see HER side of him creeply and obessively persuing her until Marco got through to him. He missed the point of his therapy assignment, seeing it as a goal to get passed instead of hwat brian intended: for him to geninely make amends with someone he hurt. He didn’t get that while star didn’t, at the time, want to date him ignoring her would hurt her... though that on’es not on him. He’s not a bad guy at all but he’s not at all great at reading people or being selfless.

 He’s getting there, stump day showed him put stars needs before Marco’s and not out of any selfish dick measuring contest but because he knew what she wanted and what made her happy, but it’s hard to have empathy for a problem you don’t get how bad it is. To tom it’s just getting stopped once in a while and then having to glower or literally roast someone. To these monsters... it’s a life of being denied a decent standard of living, housing and being treated as a crminal and a beast just for existing. Tom has a fancy castle, loyal subjects, tons of money.. his privlage has insulated him from the real dangers of being the minority he is, of getting beaten up by the cops or arrested just for being a monster. And yes i’m using real world paralells.. but so does the end of this episode so shhh. It’s also a moral that hits home since as a white person, the last year has hit me HARD with just how much I didn’t know about the racial situation in america and how complacient i’d become. I wasn’t actively racist.. but like many americans I had the bad tendency to forget the horrible things that happpend on a daily basis to people of color in this country when it got out of the news. Privlage can blind you, and I cannot speak for if it does so for any real life minorties as i’m not touching a subject i’m not qulaified to talk on due to being super white with a ten foot pole, but I can speak for me that sometimes you just.. dont’ notice a problem unless i’ts happening to you. And while it has happened to tom it’s such a minor inconvience he probably just forgets about it and moves on. And these next two episodes with him, though we have some plot stuff to get too before we get back to Tom in feburary, are him getting his bubble popped and realizing just WHAT Star has been fighting against. And Star’s own privlage will be an issue later.. but we’llg et to that in it’s own time.  So while Tom skulks off Rich startles Marco to get him to do his kung fun hand pose “the sword hand dance” and everyone uses it to dance which Marco understandably objects to until kelly asks him to dance. Cue adorable ship tease.. again this is why i’m thrownig in the kelco episode in the next batch: because the trajectory of this relationship eeerily lines up with tom episodes. No sense avoiding the ONE other episode about the ship , especially if i’m going out of my way to cover the Meteora arc on top of it and my other 80 projects. And regular coverage. And comissions. And you get the idea it’s a lot but i’m happy to do it. 

Meanwhile we meet Slime, a friendly slime monster who introduces himself to penelope and her massive spider bite... and then drips a bit giving her the wrong impression. Thankfully.. this does not turn into the PG-Rated versoin of BLue from the heathers musical. 

No he just was offering to aloe up her spiderbite, and she’s all too happy to accept since her family never thought about it.. though as we see next season their not against it suprisingly. They are still dicks though. But not racist, though that’s a very low bar to clear and only gives them credit because mewni as a whole is pretty racist when it comes to Monsters. Point is I hate their parents but love these ship as the two share some ship tease and go downstairs.. only to get attacked.  Meanwhile, Marco’s getting a goblin dog while being watched by Henious.. who despite Gemini’s objections.. no longer cares about her cheeks as she grins sinesterly and has him play her music, some heavy metal. FORESHADOWING!

Back at the party, Star adreses her public and is all proud and blushy.. till Penelope stumbles in, covered in scars, telling the crowd something took Slime.. and both sides start blaming one another, especially since it turns out a LOT of the monsters have gone missing. So with everything she worked towards and had achieved crumbling, Star calms the crowd and says she’ll investigate. Outside Marco is getting a goblin dog with roy, and wondering why he has strawberry, who orders a strawberry.. who wants that? And then decides to get one out of curiosity which I would but i’m also fat and love strawberries so i’m not a beacon of good decisionmaking. 

So Star grabs him before he can roll that metaphorical dice and passes tom who tries to downplay her concerns and get her to go make out, thinking that’s what’s going on despite that.. making no sense, as a ton of them are missing and 6 is a bit much for polyamory.. I mean it works for some people 

But not everyone can be a majestic space grandma whose also a caterpillar. And their too young to orgy so that’s out too. Point is Tom is an idiot this time and Star RIGHTFULLY calls him out for belitting her cause, not really caring about it, or the other teens who are in danger right now from god knows what and tells him to either help or get out of the way. 

So while Tom licks his well earned wounds, Star and Marco journey into the depths and find a campsite with fresh dog eared pages indicating whoevers behind the abudictions is not only sapient, but still here... oh and it somehow gets worse as they find out WHOSE behind it. 

And a second question you might be having: Who dis. Well this is Mina Loveberry, solarian warrior, whose a legend in Mewni and was one of star’s childhood heroes who she found wondering around homeless and clearly not mentally well in the park on earth.. and then tried to conquer it, but the electoral process stopped her... I don’t know why but a half crazed maniac being defeated by due electoral process makes me feel all warm and fuzzy right now, on this specific day this is coming out late on. Hmmmm.. INTERESTING aint it? 

Point is Mina is a super powerful, super not in her right mind super warrior, who is naturlaly the kidnapper, as this episode also reveals she’s violently racist and assuemed something was up and whiel Star, who despite said cou still loves and respects her and gets she’s not well, tries to talk her down it increasingly becomes clear there’s no reasoning with her. And really with most racists.. there isn’t. Racisim isn’t something that’s rational and while some people are just indocrinated at a young age and CAN be turned around on it.. some are just so deeply up their own ass with hatred you can’t reason with them or save them. You just have to stop them. Via impeaching them, making sure they get called out and taken out of office.. or in this case using rainbows on them.  But we’ll have to wait a second as a bunch of debris falls on mina taking her out!

.. Only to reveal Henious and while Marco’s willing to fight her and her posse, Raasticore grabs star and henious hooks him up to the brainwash machine, probably planning to kill him with it while playing the music

But before she can kill or do worse to one of our heroes.. the door behind them opens up.. and reveals a child’s play room. 

And Henious.. gives up on the attack and enters, disturbing Gemini as she looks around in what’s easily one of the best scene sin the entire series: her slow walk, the way the animation follows her as it sinks in just what Metora might be.. and her picking up two dolls, the ones seen above.. her dolls to Gemini’s increasing discomfort. And while the animation is stellar and utterly moving as we slowly put the pieces together... it’s Walter’s delivery that REALLY STUNS.Gone is the harsh, unforgiving nightmarish woman we’ve known.. and instead is someone whose confused.. and remembering. Remembering WHY she has those cheek marks, remembering this was her room, her home.. and those were her parents. She remembers now.. and Mina rises to say of course she did “I knew you’d be back here one day meteora!” And as Gemini tries to refute this.. Meteora agrees with MIna, no longer henious at last freed form her deep and abusive brainwashing we’ll cover soon enough. And deeply confused. And as everyone else is deeply confused... Mina, not realizing this whole thing was covered up, again we’ll get to that soon too, spells it out for them and the audience in case you missed it. When Star asks how Eclipsa plays into any of this? “Don’t you ding dongs know anything? She’s her mamma!”  (Marco and Star stare in shock as it sinks in) Marco: “Wait HENIOUS is a princess?!”  Star: “she’s a butterfly”

Yeah quite obviously this is one of the biggest wham episodes in the entire series. In one moment we not only find out Henious is indeed a butterflfy as fans thought.. but Eclipsa’s daughter, half monster, and her entire existance raises questions of how much her family hid and if not WHO DID. I mean some of you alreayd know the answer but the rest of you can wait a week.. or a few mintues it’s hinted at soon enough. Point is Star has questions.. questions the violent racist whose pretty messed up in the head for a variety of the reasons and spent decades hunting her.. is not willing to hear out and instead prepares to smite her. While Star tries DESPERATLEY to talk her friend out of this it’s very clear Mina’s not going to listen... so Star rainbow fists her.. and prepares to face her former friend and inspiration for Meteora’s saftey and the answers she BADLY needs right now. Oh and just in case you thought “oh well the magical girl who sounds like amy sedaris can’t be that big a threat”... Yeah I didn’t mention broly for nothing. 

Mina bulked up. Meet Solarian Mina. And like the Legendary Super Sayian form from Dragon Ball.. i’ts a beserker of a form that turns the already obessive and insane Mina.. into an unstoppable rage fuled killing machine with horrifying levels of power who can beat down anyone nearbye. And unlike Broly, where he was just a one in a million fluke in both versions... Mina was PLANNED to be this. The solarian program was something Eclipsa’s mom came up with, a series of spells that slowly turn the target into a rampaging super soldier. It’s like if Nuke from marvel comics, a vietnam era version of captain america who dind’t turn out so good, was INTETIONAL; 

As you can see it removes fear.. but also the targets concisce, so Mina is incapable of empathy or being cure dof her racisim. Solaria turned her from a humble volunteer just hoping ot help and improve her station into the crazed monster star now faces.  And as the Broly comparision should make clear... yeah Star dosen’t do so good and neither does Marco. She shrugs off Star’s hits and while botht he kids and meteora escape, both just piss Mina off MORE, and put star in more danger as she’s thrown around like a ragdoll.  She then runs into tom who shows off his growht: While he was a dick up there.. unlike before where he assumed he was always the wronged party.. he realized he crossed a line and while he dosen’t know WHY he did, is still willing to apologize and presumibly talk about it. A bit clueless yes but it’s effort and his tone is sincre so it’s less “I’m apologizing for whatever I guess” bullshit and more “I genuinely don’t know wha ti did wrong please tell me so I can say sorry”.. which given how awkard tom is with people and how I pointed out his trouble relating to them over htis retrospective, is the more beliviable one.  Naturally while Star does appricate it she’s kinda busy.. and when Tom see’s what’s going on he leaps in with NO hesitation. And given how close the luictors once were and are again with the butterflies it’s doubtful he hadn’t heard of mina so he likely KNOWS what he’s going up against..a nd dosen’t care. His girlfriend needs his help and this person’s trying to hurt her. That’s all he needs to kick her ass. Or try.. unlike with the z warriors.. our heroes don’t win this one. Tom tries a really cool move i’m dubbing the onyx coffin, a black coffin with runes and chains.. that does nothing to her. She breaks out and our heroes flee and Mina causes a massive ruckuss above, and the only reasons our heros don’t die.. is that the knights and Rhombulus of the high comission arrive.  And since the high comission are going to be vastly important a refresher: The high comission were created by glossaryck, the little man who lives in stars book who used to be voiced by an asshole and next season is voiced by keith motherfucking david, to police the multiverse and it’s various issues. The four we know are Lekmet: a goat man who died last season and controlled entropy and could heal at the cost of his own life hence the death, Hekapoo, a close assiocate of marcos who controls the scissors beings use to cross dimensions and can do so herslef effortlessly, Omnitraxus Prime, a powerful and giant antler skulled being who watches space time and timelines and is voiced by Karl Weathers so...

And Rhombulus, a diamond headed he-man reject with snakes for hands becaue his dad is a well documented dickhead.. no really that’s the entire explination i the book of spells: Glossaryck turned his hands to snake to teach him the lesson i’ts hard to get through life with snake hands. He’s a gung ho guy who imprisons the wrost of the worst criminals thus his presence here as Mina clearly had a falling out with the comission and thus flees.  So while Star and Tom are given blankets afterwords and some cocoa, Tom comforts her and admits if nothing else.. he gets it now, having been finally faced with the type of horrible shit monsters have had to deal with in the past and sees why his girlfriend tried hard to help it. But Star.. realizes she can’t fix this that easy. That she dosen’t know enough and clearly ther’es even more than she ever could’ve thought possible she has ot know if she’s going to fix this.. and that it’s not an EASY problem to fix. You really CAN’T fix racisim you can just make society better, but you’ll never be rid of people like Mina. Though this arc will.. yeah in one of the more baffling decisions Mina is given this huge reindrocution, with Amy Sedaris showing that while a very funny lady and a very talented actress as bojack had previously shown off for both.. she can be FUCKING TERRIFYING. But nope, she’s just..g one outside of a cameo, gets beatne off screen and dosen’t become big bad for a season. And I get it, the metora arc needed room.. but you had a WHOLE EXTRA EPISODE to have her defeat mina. Inastead you used it for Marco Jr which amounted to almost nothing and could’ve been saved for season 4 wher eit probably woudln’t of been terrible. I”ll get to that one some day. Point is it’s bad storytelling. 

So yeah Star’s feeling lost, her family history is in flux, she got beaten badly, not horribly injrued but still lost handily, her party ruined and  she was hit with the realization her plans were overly idealistic. Well meaning sure but a party was never going to cure this. Oh and Rhombluus naturally isn’t coming clean about why the temple is off limits or what’s going on here so that dosen’t help.  And somehow.. IT STILL GETS WORSE. The Wizard Cops try to take the monsters in , profling them and not having done so and star thankfully talks them out of it but the monster kids turn down any afterparty or anything. They get she means well tbut hte moment’s over. And their not even excesivley sad.. their just.. used to the police treating them like this. Like less than human, like automatic suspects when THEY were the victims. IT’s nothing new... and god does this feel relevant as hell.

And this i where I meant Star’s privlage bites her: While not as bad as tom, it took some very harsh reality for her to see that solving racisim.. is not only nigh imposisble but not that easy. To her it was easy as a party and friendship and what’s worked before in her fairly shelted world. Advetnures or not she’s still a princess whose never experinced prejudice. In both worlds she’s in the majority. It’s probably why Marco conttoned on to monster racism in seconds during “Menipendence Day’ when Star hadn’t her whole life: to Marco, whose latix and thus dealing with all kinds of racist shit his whole life, it was easier to pick it up. He’s firmly part of his culture.. and thus probably firmly aware of the racism he faces. Star is so insulated she just dosen’t get it till it nearly beat her to death. So yeah Star’s at her lowest point, having failed to make things better, the answer to her questions being lost and not sure what’s real. Metora on the other hand as they dodge the cops.. has ascended. As Gemini calls her henious once last time.. she says that’s not her name. 

“My name is meteora”

SHe’s been dreaming the wrong dream.. and it’s long past time she woke up. 

Final Thoughts;  Monster Bash.. is one of the best episodes in the series. Unlike a lot of Seasons 3 and 4 it dosen’t suffer from lack of proper payoff, as the next few episodes deal with how the fuck any of this is happening and why the fuck any of it happened. Mina’s absence nonwithstanding.. this is one of the series best and most gripping arcs. And the swerve is great: you think i’ts Henious doing the kindappings, only for her not to be the threat again just yet. And for her to be something far more. It’s just masterful, starting iwth fun hyjinks and ending in one of the best nad most nightmarish fights in the series if not the best, watching as our heroes slowly but surely LOOSE.. and THEN it gets worse. Out and out a must watch for the series and a sad sign of what it COULD’VE been had it moved past it’s worst insitncts next season and become what i should’ve been.  Next week: We take a tom break as Eclipsa nad Mon investigate all of this and we get the SECOND biggest wham episode in the series. 

Until the next rainbow, be excellent to each other.

[askyancy]

Yancy’s Trial

OOC: The following is the ENTIRE court room scenario that took place on the discord. Hey if you ain’t on there look how much you’re missing!  https://discord.gg/VRayPQs Better hop aboard huh! This Court case was between myself and my partner @markimoojackaboi​ who was in charge of the whole event with myself as: Mr Wallaby/Wilford, Yancy, Dr Parker, Bambam, Sparkles and him as : Mr D. Iplier/Dark  and our wonderful Warden @thegayneighborhoodcannibal​ A lot of Wilford’s case was assisted by the theorists of the server who spent from 5:30pm - 1am EST trying to corral Wilford into actually being a lawyer. Needless to say that didn’t go well but at least someone has that ability.  Please forgive any typos, mistakes, formatting as tumblr is a bitch.  Consider this the transcript of the case. Enjoy the read! It’s a long one!  -Mort

Saturday 30th November at 5:30 PM

Officials have started arriving, board members, District attorneys and the sort, all filling into the spectator seats. No jury, seems no one showed up for duty, or rather this was a prison case and not necessarily in need of one. This was at the hands of officials. Stepping through the doors you get the scent of the mahogany wood lining the entire facility, the traces of perfume and cologne from the officials and the scent of something..candy? The two lawyers directing the case are up front at the main two tables, a rather colorful suit on Mr Wallaby, but he looked most certainly charming, save for the fake mustache... on top of a mustache.. Whatever, you choose not to question it. You take a moment to linger in the stands listening a little to what Wallaby might be saying. Something about pancakes and syrup? Taking your seat at the front on an end seat, a notepad sits in hand. Taking notes on this case may be important to assist and who knows, maybe you'll even get called as a witness... A friendly face approaches, patting you on the shoulder, they seem to have familiarity with you and sit to your left. "Hey you remember me right? Arnie Velmont? We went to law school together?" You nod. "Yeah yeah! You don’t mind me sittin here? Don't really know anyone else here" A wave of the hand. He's fine. Your silence holds strong. As everyone takes their positions, a certain inmate is brought into the room a little roughly by Officer Rex, and made to stand to the side, he's heavily cuffed and clearly shaking. Even the Warden is shown to where he can sit. "All rise for the honorable Judge Bagel Noface-Noname." Rex announces, the crowd stand and so do you. The judge rolls onto the high seat and onto the table, settling there. The crowd sits and you follow suit. The court was now in session.

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 6:08 PM

The prosecution waited in his seat for the Judges opening. Familiarize everyone with the case number, that sort of thing. He waited a little uncomfortably long, as the judge didn't actually have a visible mouth. The Man in the charcoal jacket and grey tie to match and thinly rimmed glasses, a mister D. Ipliére rose to his feet, rubbing his hands together and clapping them together. "Your honor this case is as open and shut as a  bad book," He looked up at the judge, "What we have here is bloodstained hands... And we will punish those responsible for this heinous act." He moves back behind his table and sits down, tucking his seat in so he was close to the desk. He'd make a perfect bureaucrat the way he prepared to take notes. But then his eyes snapped towards Yancy, irises like obsidian. He had the composure of a statue, but he had the presence of a coiled scorpion... ready to strike if you looked away for too long.(edited)

WallabyYesterday at 6:14 PM

Wilfor-Wallaby blinked as he watched, a quick mutter to himself over something before he stood. He didn’t have pants on. Looked like heart boxers... but oddly somehow he still looked good. "Your honnnooor~ What we reaaally have is an innocent sugarmuffin of a man who has done no wrong by anyone.. look at his widdle baby faaaceee" Yancy blinked, looking up, confused, taken aback and shook his head. Fuck.... This was gonna go horrible. "And I'll prove it!" he smirks, a smug lil fluffball as he sits back down "I’m doomed" runs across Yancy's mouth silently.

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 6:27 PM

The DA was  firm man, imposing in a different way than say the Warden for example. He rose again so the.. Judge.. Wonderful... "The Prosecution would like to call prisoner 6247 of Happy Trails Penitentiary to the stand for cross examination." he was a rock in a river."

YancyYesterday at 6:32 PM

Yancy's stomach dropped and he started shaking again. oh god. oh fuck ok. deep breaths. done this before. He let Rex man handle him up to the stand, settling in the seat. Poor Yancy... he looked ready to cry. Wallaby frowned. This wasn't good. Calling his client up immediately. Hm.... Well.. If Yancy did as good as he had been maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Yancy's eyes passed over the prosecutor. A handsome man with an intimidating look. This man wasn't just his prosecutor... but his executioner if things didnt go well. Rex huffed putting a bible in front of Yancy. Yancy pulled a face at it. "m'not..er..religious type ya know.. uh...." Wallaby paused, dug around in his small brief case and held up something small, hurried over to put it on the desk then scuttled back. "..... yer kiddin" Rex raised an eyebrow and shrugged as Yancy obediently placed his hand on the pudding cup and then his other up...as best the cuffs allowed anyway. "Ye swear to tell the truth the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help you...pudding cup" "I swears..." Yancy fidgeted a bit. Nervous.

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 6:47 PM

The Prosecution's lip twitched slightly at the sight of the pudding cup. "Mr Yancy, is it?" He asked, moving again to the side of his desk, a couple pieces of paper in his hand. He made eye contact with the defendant.

YancyYesterday at 6:48 PM

Yancy tensed as the intimidating man came forward to question him, immediately flustering. "Ah wh- Well yeah but uh.. I er.. I go by Yancy." His cuff chains rattled a lot, a lot of hand fussing.

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 6:51 PM

The man leaned back a little to move his long dark locks off his face and adjusting his glasses with the free hand. He touched the thinned rims just with the tips of his fingers with the confidence of a man who would never leave a fingerprint o n the glass. "My apologies, I forgot about prison names. If you would please make your statement for the record." He leaned his hip a little on the desk, looking at the paper.

YancyYesterday at 6:54 PM

Yancy shivered but lowered his gaze to the wood in front of him "I... I d-dont hav-.. I mean I dunno where youse.. want me to start I-..." His voice was barely audible, just loud enough for the prosecutor.

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 6:55 PM

The prosecutor looked up at him. "I'm sorry did... did your defense not prepare you for this?" He asked, a smooth cold voice like a polished stone as he glanced over at Mr. Wallaby...His lip twitched subtlety.

YancyYesterday at 7:03 PM

Yancy went wide eyed and withdrew into his seat. Wallaby glanced over huh... poor Yancy. Didn't look too good "Ah.. just tell em what ya told me!" He gave a beckoning motion with his hand and a thumbs up. Yancy stared and sank a bit more in his seat "E...er... o-okay... " Yancy glanced up at the judge then the room "I er.... " Yancy cleared his throat. Deep breath. It's ok. "It kinda started with er... these t'ree inmates deys... sendin me messages. t'ought nottin of it a foirst and then t'ings escalated. Dey's called me out I called dem's out.... We agreed to meet up... I er.. we met up in de hallway and deys got the drop on me. T'ought I was meeting just one alone and dere was t'ree o dems... " he swallowed "Deys stabbed me..... I was in medical fer a whiles and... while I was dere deys attacked my friends.. set my cell on fire.. all my..belongins.... a-and den I heard em down the hall... deys was tryna hurt my friends..." he ran his hands together "I-.. I remember going forward t'.. t' Frank and... I.. I dunno I- I dont remember what happened next but I wokes up on the floor with my friends holdin me away .... I-.. den d' ward'n came in and I-........ " he trailed off his voice shaking.

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 7:11 PM

The man's face softened in what looked like pity. "It's alright, you don't have to go further than that. Thank you for sharing." He full on faced Walllaby... He breathed sharply through his nose to compose himself  a little, clearly annoyed at the candy-coated defense lawyer. But he maintained himself, his voice never raised in volume from what he started with. He turned back to face Yancy. His face softened. "You've been through so much in this last week, haven't you?" He said, peering over his glasses a little. As non threatening as such an imposing figure could possibly be.

YancyYesterday at 7:13 PM

Yancy slowly nodded before he croaked out a more audible for court "y-yes" Wallaby leaned back in his chair feet up and a phone in his hands, grumpily swatting at that mosquito... gonna get it... you just wait... Yancy pinched his eyes shut "oh god..." whispered from him, just loud enough for Mr. Ipliére to hear it. Poor guy was terrified.

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 7:17 PM

The lawyer looked at him with a slight head tilt... the poor thing.. "Are you alright? Do you need a moment?" he asked almost... sweetly.

YancyYesterday at 7:20 PM

Yancy shook his head. He shifted in the seat, bracing himself, deep breath. 4....7....8..... 4....7.....8.... "N-no I'm okay.... I-..... Just brings back some memories o d' last time I was in here... ya know?" he smiled bitterly but sat up, seemed he was capable of taking care of himself despite his lawyer being a useless mindless doofus. "You had questions, sir?"

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 7:29 PM

The prosecutor nodded. "Any time you need stop, alright?... I know this is a heavy burden to ask of you..." A strange and seemingly indirect way of thanking him for his bravery. "Would you mind telling us, for the record, when did these messages start?" He leaned away from his desk.

YancyYesterday at 7:35 PM

Yancy took a deep inhale and sat straight. Be honest. Be short. "About 2 weeks ago? I'm not sure on de exact date, but it's been about 2 weeks." The more the prosecutor spoke the more Yancy seemed to relax a little. Wallaby had sat up again and was now digging through his bag, pulling out a large pieces of paper with crayon.

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 7:44 PM

The Prosecutor looked down at his sheet, cross referencing something unseen. He nodded and moved over to the box. "Your honour, I hold in my hands Exhibit A, the direct messages received." He looked down at his sheet. "Yes it's.. quite colourful language..." He traced the lines with his fingers... looking for something specific.

YancyYesterday at 7:47 PM

The judge makes no movement, its a bagel. But the honorable judge does seem to approve. It seems the prosecutor is permitted to continue. Yancy looks away. God.... this is gonna show he had a phone... he could get the Warden in a lot of trouble if he wasn't careful..... Deep breath... Just a stage. Just another performance. A court room performance. He was just playing the criminal. Nothing wrong. Just..... why'd the prosecutor have to be so damned handsome! Wallaby finally digs something else out of his bag. a large wooden letter A. That's his exhibit A... yup...

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 7:54 PM

The prosecutor straightened his spine. "Such texts as and I quote, "What a boring game, let's make it interesting., a knife emoticon- Favorite stab wound," end quote.  That's quite frightening.." He didn't leave room for pause. "Or this one, I quote, 'Tell our dear friend BB that Sparkles is next. I'll make sure to leave a bedazzled finger under their pillow, Heart Emoji' end quote." He moved teh hand with the paper in it down to his side, quickly. He spoke loud enough to make someones ears ring. "Lastly and -i- quote Starlings are aggressive. Reckless. They pick fights at any chance they get. But enough of them. It's good to see you, mockingbird. -' End. Quote."

WallabyYesterday at 7:57 PM

Wallaby raised an eyebrow as he listened this time and stood up "Awbjection your honor. Relevance. How is this reveleleelephant to the matter at hand?" he waggled his stache a bit. He'd taken his pants off again. "Yancy sank a bit, bit his tongue. Well of course it was.. relevant... that was  Frank and-... Or was it? Maybe he should trust his lawyer? God.. he didn't know anymore.

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 8:01 PM

The prosecutor raised his hands defensively, waiting the judges ruling. ..... A tap of the gavel. "My point, if it please the court, is his response to that very last message sent, A text message back... I quote. "y-youse…. All o youse is fuckin DEAD" end quote.

WallabyYesterday at 8:04 PM

Wallaby huffed, fake mustache atop his mustache hanging off a bit "Awbjection your honor! My client was very angwee. Those kinds of messages would make anyone mad! Doesn't mean that he'd hurt them! Sayin n doin are very different!" and yet here they where. Yancy bit his lip. shut up. stop talking. sit down youse dumb mustached fuck.

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 8:12 PM

The Prosecutor backed up, hands up a little. "Withdrawn, your honour." He turned back, waved a hand a little, and faced him again, the man of someone commanding a stage. "The messages were sent to a cellular device in your posession, Yancy. Sorry... Yancy." He corrected himself. "How long have you, a convicted murderer with a wrap sheet to boot had a waterproof, shockproof, cellphone?"

YancyYesterday at 8:17 PM

Yancy went pale, like he'd just seen a ghost, but slowly he knew being honest was key here. Then again if he answered he could get the warden, Hawk, Scarlet, a lot of others in trouble. He looked up at Wallaby. Wallaby was frantically waving his hand in front of his throat, shaking his head, giving zip lips and shushy gestures. "I... uh.......... I plead... fifth... your honor" he bit his tongue discretely inside his mouth. fuckfckfuck. He had to trust his lawyer.. shit.

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 8:19 PM

The Prosecutor froze for a minute...

The Fifth Amendment, or Amendment V of the United States Constitution is the section of the Bill of Rights that protects you from being held for committing a crime unless you have been indicted correctly by the police.

He nodded. "... No further questions, your honour." He went and sat down... pen to paper and ready.

YancyYesterday at 8:26 PM

Yancy let out a sigh of relief. Welp that was one frying pan to deal with later.... His stomach twisted as he saw Wallaby wriggle back into his pants and hop his way to standing and wobbled his way over "Hey buddy!" ".....the heck are youse doing?" Yancy hiss whispered. "I'll assk the questionssss!" he smirked and Yancy went pale again. "Now .... Getting to the reaal grit o the situaaation! You mentioned in your stawry that you dont remember what happened between sneakin up on Frankie and waking up next to his dead bawdy. Correct?" "...Correct" Yancy was shaking again, it was audible in the chains as his leg bounced. "Do you get black outs often?" "I-er..... no" "Hm ok. Would you say you lose time? Or memories? any memory lawss that kinda thing?" he waved his hand around, rather sure of himself there. "Er... n-no...." Wallaby paused, turned "really? ah ok" welp there went that defense.

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 8:30 PM

The prosecution takes notes. His rival sounded like he had just been plopped into this without warning! Meanwhile he himself had been studying the ins and outs of this case. He almost felt bad for the kid. But you'd never know by the looks on his face. He imagined this would be over quickly.

WallabyYesterday at 8:36 PM

Wallaby continued after a little waggle of the stache that was now fully falling off his face. One more of those and it was a goner. "Awlright. Would you saaaaay.... that this black out may have been connect to any mental health issues you may suffer from?" Yancy paused. Oh ..aha.. that's where this was going ok. "I er.. maybe... I was.. seein Doctah pahrkah fer a lotta stuffs." "So you would say that Doctah Pahrkah... i say dat right? Ah.. Would you say they were a credible source of informaaation on your mental health status that could have been the causes of this black out?" "... Yes?" He didnt sound sure but went with it. "Awlright. Next question. What were you doing before the incident? Before all the rawr rawr stabby stabby murder?" Yancy winced at that bit but hoped everyone would ignore the phrasing "I was... asleep. I was in my cell asleep on... confinement after a fight broke out with different inmates earlier. Er... dats another longer story though. Not related" "The bagel will be the judge of that!" Wilford huffed at him "So you were asleep!" "Yes" "Then how did you get in the cell?" "I.. I gets nightmares. Deys wake me up..keep me up a lot... I dont get a lot o sleep" "Ahuuuuuuuuhh.... Do you think this lack of sleep could contribute to your black out?"

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 8:38 PM

Prosecutor raises his hand a little, barely looking up from his paper. "Objection, your honour, what's the point of all this speculation?"

WallabyYesterday at 8:43 PM

Wallaby paused "W- weeeellll... My poinntttt if ya let me get to it mister bawsy pants!" no regard for court ettiquette but that was a Warfstache for ya. "Is that if the boys sleep walkin he cant be accountable for his actions" He huffed, turned around "Where ya?" "I..... no? I dont know I dont remember but I do remember waking up and hurrying over" "Why the hurrry" "I heard my friends yelling sounded like they were in trouble.... then I saw..them and I-... Next thing I knew I was... being dragged away" "Sounds like sleep walking" Wallaby huffed and wandered back to the table "Your witness" he smirked at the prosecutor and Yancy put his face in his hands.

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 8:46 PM

The Procecution rolled his shoulders back a little, rising to his feet. "Your honour may I approach the bench?" He asked. ...... He began the walk, but stopped, waiting for Wallaby to follow. This was more so he could talk to him in the middle of this.

WallabyYesterday at 8:50 PM

Wallaby linked and hopped up to join him, a hushed conversation...There's a lot of faff and fuss from Wallaby before he hugs the prosecutor with a squeaky noise then shuffled on back to his desk to sit back down, a smug look on his face

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 8:58 PM

The prosecutor straightened his tie and moved back... seemed his opposition was trying to plead insanity. “The court would like to call Dr Aiden Parker to the stand.”

YancyYesterday at 9:00 PM

Yancy relaxed and hopped out of the chair letting Rex man handle him again, nothing h wasnt used to. Dr Parker stood, fixed his suit jacket and wandered over. He set a small stone on the table

"I'm also Agnostic but this is a truth stone."

He let Rex give the speech. "

“I swear.”

 On to questioning. He set his hands neatly in his lap.

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 9:01 PM

The prosecution is now limited to three questions each.”Dr Parker, you are a psychiatrist, correct? You’ve got an astounding CV. He said tapping his finger down onto the table next to him.”

Dr. ParkerYesterday at 9:04 PM

Parker keep a professional look to him. "I am the on site psychiatrist for Happy Trails Penitentiary, yes. .... and thank you" Wallaby raised an eyebrow, watching curiously. Seems at least his focus is in the right place now...(edited)

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 9:07 PM

*Two professionals back and forth with equal composure. “What’s it like working with some of the most dangerous people ever convicted?”

Dr.ParkerYesterday at 9:09 PM

Parker raised an eyebrow then put it down again.

"No different to the rest of my field. Danger only comes from those who feel it necessary to be a threat. I have yet to find anyone who is to be dubbed "dangerous" in my books"

His voice was odd... so were his eyes but they didn't hold much distraction.

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 9:16 PM

The prosecutor mentally thanked the doctor for his easy manner and setting the foundation. “And yet within hours of being discharged from their medical bay, he was setting off small explosive devices, he manages to get re-armed, and now there he sits..” he points to Yancy, “having stabbed another human being 73 times. That’s more times than a human should naturally be able to do on their own by almost double.” He scuffed his heel and paced. “How many times will this happen again before a professional such as yourself considers them Dangerous.”

WallabyYesterday at 9:22 PM

Wallaby piped up "Awbjection! The bawmb was Bambams" Bambam went wide eyed and looked ready to bolt but stayed put. Yeah ok...they'd take that hit for Yancy. IT was their idea.... Parker waited for them to finish "

“Yancy was recently put in my care as per the Warden's request on regards of rehabilitation. The Warden believed that Yancy was capable of full rehabilitation and chances for Parole that Yancy was hoping to achieve. Called it Vacation."

He offered a small twitch of a fond smile

"However. Yancy has been unable to sleep. Myself and Dr Rothgott have discussed this and recently prescribed him medication to take to assist this, two days prior to the event occurring. While I agree 73 is ..excessive by any means, I also believe that Mr. Iplier was not in control of his actions at the time. Mr Iplier suffers from a great deal of what could potentially be Post Traumatic Stress. This in turn could be triggered by the sight of his attacker, bringing back the memories of his father of which he currently serves sentence for."

Parker sounded like he could have been a lawyer if he wanted to. How many court cases in his time as a doctor? "

“This being said, I would like to repeat that Yancy is new in my care and currently under going treatment. His sessions were recently pushed to daily one hour sessions.”

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 9:26 PM

The prosecutor put a hand on his desk and leaned back against it for a moment as if to think... He paused... “...One final question. Do you think, in your professional opinion, that this Post Traumatic Stress response, violent as it may be.... let me rephrase..” .... “Do you think he would do something like this again?”

Dr.ParkerYesterday at 9:27 PM

Parker leaned back a little confidently. "

“No. With the proper treatment he is now getting and the medication he is now receiving, I believe given the time for those medications to take effect and with a detective now on the case of what has been going on at the prison, the chances of Yancy having another episode are incredibly slim."

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 9:33 PM

The prosecutor looked down, nodding slightly. Unfortunately he was running out of time. “No further questions.”

WallabyYesterday at 9:35 PM

Wallaby hopped up "Defense would like to call Warden Murder'Slawghter to the stand" He waggled his stache with a smirk. Gonna get em so good oh yeah! @The Sandwich was in for it! Look at this handsome fella- wait....... Abe?.. wait... no.. hang on.... OH! how about that! Abe had a brother! Wait what was Abe’s last name again? didnt matter!

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 9:37 PM

the prosecution looked a little confused. Didn’t he have any questions?... oh well he’s made his choice... time was slowly ticking away.

The WardenYesterday at 9:40 PM

Mr. Murder-Slaughter stood when his name was called, looking down at himself to ensure his attire was in order before making his way to the stand. He wasn't the religious type, but he swore on the bible anyways. He wasn't about to swear on a pudding cup. He licks his lips and makes sure his mouth wasn't too dry before he spoke. His expression was stern.

WallabyYesterday at 9:44 PM

Wallaby wanders over to the warden and smiles "You look a lawt like a friend o mine! ah anyway! Warden you over see everythin at the prison correct?"

The WardenYesterday at 9:46 PM

The warden nods slowly, hands folded neatly in his lap. He tried to ignore how his palms were starting to become sweaty. "I do."

WallabyYesterday at 9:46 PM

He nods and continues "And would you say you were close with your inmates, or rather Yancy?" he keeps his questions short n sweet

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 9:47 PM

Prosecution scribbles something down.

The WardenYesterday at 9:47 PM

Another nod. "Yes." His voice is steady and calm as if he had done this before.

WallabyYesterday at 9:48 PM

He continues "Alright, if you know Yancy so well, is this something that happens awften with him? Would you say he was a dangerous inmate?"

The WardenYesterday at 9:50 PM

The warden suddenly sits up straighter. "Yancy is rarely ever, if not never, a violent individual. From what I've seen before the incident has been a rather tender and kind person; I do not think he is a dangerous inmate."

WallabyYesterday at 9:51 PM

Wallaby nods. "You walked in on the scene right? Can ya describe to us what you saw, specifically Yancy?"

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 9:53 PM

Pen was at the ready, so far so good from the prosecutor view

The WardenYesterday at 9:55 PM

Mr. Murder-Slaughter is silent for a moment as he ponders over the question. "I...." He clears his throat and shifts where he sat. "When I arrived on the seen I saw Yancy, accompanied by Michael Gregory, Andrew Gregory, Jason Campell, Henry Valmer, and Tamara Rose, over the body of Frank Wallace. Yancy looked... Scared, to say the least, like he was shell-shocked. He didn't seem aware of his surroundings at the time." He looks at Wallaby the entire time he spoke.

WallabyYesterday at 9:57 PM

Wallaby nodded along, his back to th warden and more facing the crowd. "But can you describe to us the scene itself. The gruesome details the wounds the murder! ahuh" he turned to face him now. "What about the murder weapon, who had it?"

The WardenYesterday at 10:02 PM

"There was a lot of blood, and glitter. At the time of the scene I was not aware of who the victim was, only that he was clearly dead. Yancy and the other inmates I named were covered in Frank's blood." He starts to narrow his eyes as he wracks through the memory for details. "I believe the murder weapon was on the ground next to the body."

WallabyYesterday at 10:03 PM

Wallaby wafts a hand and wanders away "No more questions your honor. Your witness" He smiles to Mr Ipliére and takes his seat. Yancy is glaring at the pink mustache on Wallabys face with a look that could kill. He was doing so good dammit!

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 10:06 PM

The prosecution took a few minutes, writing something down before repeating. Standing up and beginning the walk. “Mr. Murderslaughter. You boast a safe place for rehabilitation over punishment. But surely your establishment has punishments In place.”

The WardenYesterday at 10:06 PM

"We do." He curtly nods in confirmation, watching the other closely.

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 10:07 PM

The man stopped in his tracks and adjusted his glasses. “For the court, would you please go into detail?” He had to make this case solid.

The WardenYesterday at 10:11 PM

Mr. Murder-Slaughter huffs a bit. "Depending on the degree of the misbehavior, inmates may be confined to their cell; made to work janitorial duties while monitored by a guard; sent to solitary; or loose certain privileges such as un-timed showers, extra dessert, and ability to participate in monitored group activities."

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 10:14 PM

Mr D. Ipliére remained like a brick wall in terms of comfort to be around. He paced a little with long slow strides. “Really? It almost sounds like you’re running a summer camp rather than a maximum security prison.… how can you expect to rehabilitate those with a 25-to-life sentence?”

The WardenYesterday at 10:19 PM

"It is rare I'm required to use any other form of punishment. Most inmates, including Yancy, show upstanding behavior and a sound ability to adhere and obey prison rules." The warden speaks up almost immediately.(edited)

WallabyYesterday at 10:20 PM

Wallaby takes out the banana....

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 10:23 PM

The prosecutor brought his hand up a little, coiling it into a loose fist. “And yet within the days leading up to this, there was another violent incident wasn’t there? And somehow it was only just out of view of the cameras. A lot of stuff seems to get missed....” his pacing sped a little. “Just how well do you know your inmates, Warden?”

WallabyYesterday at 10:25 PM

Wallaby slowly starts squeezing the banana

The WardenYesterday at 10:29 PM

Mr. Murder-Slaughter's eyes flickered over to the loose fist the prosecutor held up. "The violent behavior comes from the three inmates. I believe-" He pauses, staring past Mr. Ipliére and at Mr. Wallaby. He watches him squeeze the banana, his brows furrowing. "Er- I know some inmates more than others."(edited)

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 10:32 PM

The prosecutor steps towards him... deep in thought but yes never moving from him. “... one final question for you warden. Would it be safe to assume that a prison with divided gangs, literal tunnels between cells, and that such violations that make Alcatraz look like a country fair... such a prison can hardly call itself maximum security, wouldn’t you agree?

WallabyYesterday at 10:33 PM

Wallaby squeezed the banana so it spluttered everywhere "Awbjection! Leading the witness!" ((Edit: It’s against prison rules to squeeze the bananas. An intimidation tactic by Wallaby))

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 10:34 PM

”Withdrawn your honour... no further questions.”

WallabyYesterday at 10:36 PM

Wallaby grins. Got em! "No further questions."

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 10:38 PM

”The prosecution would like to call prisoner 112113 to the stand.”

BambamYesterday at 10:39 PM

Bambam's chest sank. Shit... shitshitshit ok.. They slowly stood, letting Rex shift them over to the stand. They'd swear on the bible. Carefully leaning back, glasses nudged back up their nose and fixed the Prosecutor with as big a fuck you stare as they could manage.

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 10:41 PM

The prosecutor was as phased as a stone. “You’ll have to forgive me, they seemed to have submitted your papers wrong I can’t seem to figure out your pronouns. Would you state for the record what you would like to be called?”

BambamYesterday at 10:43 PM

Bambam raised an eyebrow "They them.... Though I guess he/him is fine for like.. legal shit, just prefer they them... Agender." they didnt care about announcing it. Proud and comfortable in what they were. Their eyes flashed over to Yancy, then back again.

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 10:45 PM

The Prosecution offered them the first genuine smile. “Mx Bambam. Would you state your relation to the Accused?”

BambamYesterday at 10:46 PM

Bambam set their hands in their lap. "He's my best friend. Known him for 4 years now. "

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 10:48 PM

”And in the four years you’ve known him, has he ever behaved like this before?”

BambamYesterday at 10:49 PM

Bambam frowned. He'd sworn to truth. "No.... I er.... Didn't know that was..even in him. Wasn't like him at all"

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 10:51 PM

The prosecution furrowed his brow slightly. “And you were there for the incidents both inciting and the crime were trying the Accused for?”

BambamYesterday at 10:52 PM

"I was attacked by one of the assholes responsible for all this mess, and was there for them trying to kill my friend Hank, of which Yancy prevented yes." Bambam fed a little more information out. Get that shit into court early. They sneered a little, desperate to do everything they could to help Yancy.

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 11:00 PM

Mr. D.Ipliére faced them head on. "And how did he prevent this attempted murder on.. Hank." Making sure he got the names right.

BambamYesterday at 11:05 PM

Bambam fidgeted a bit, growing annoyed. This was bring back bad memories. Court. Cuffs. Questions. Judge bagel. They wrung their hands together. Picking at the edges of their nails. "He protected us.... Yes it was excessive. But he kinda..snapped ya know? Wasnt himself. Me n Tiny had to pull him off but hes a strong guy. Took us a bit. Second he came to he completely shut down inside, didnt say a word just starin.... I’ve never seen him like that. But I dont blame him.... If he didnt do it ... those three bastards would just keep hurting us. Two of em are still at fucking large. And instead of trying to follow the trail of glitter we left on em, we're stuckin in court over stupid shit that wasn't Yancys fault! Meanwhile those two remaining dick heads are plotting a new way to get us all killed." they growled a little and settled back down. "Sorry just... Yancy got hurt because Warden told him not to hurt anyone. If we stuck by that we'd all be dead. What Yancy did was self defense and protecting us..."

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 11:11 PM

The Prosecution stood and watched him spill. "It's alright, I understand that you all care for each other." His eyes were fixed on the witness. For a few moments he didn't look like he would say anything and would force them to be in silence for hours. "I know this is difficult, so.. in your own time. What do you think would be the reason as to why these three individuals are so easily able to slip out of the grasp of the guards seemingly unnoticed? What sparked the firecracker" He asked, tucking a hand in his pocket.

BambamYesterday at 11:12 PM

Bambam fidgeted their hands again, and yet unlike Yancy didn't make a sound with the chains. "Wish I knew. I've suspicions of my own on why they're attacking us, mainly him. ... but they’re speculations."

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 11:14 PM

Mr. D.Ipliére nodded and turned on his heel, moving to the box and taking something out. He got closer to the stand. "Can you tell me what this is?" He said, holding up a photograph of a shiv. But there was a bunch more sheets of paper in his hand here."

BambamYesterday at 11:18 PM

Bambam leaned in to see the more minute details. "...27. Gave that one for Tiny to borrow. Defensive. It's a shiv. One of mine. I make them, I've a stash, Warden knows of this as I confessed and they have been arranging a cell search to confiscate em" Honesty. Yancy appreciated that. His face was in his hands again, his stomach churning, he felt sick.

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 11:20 PM

Mr. D.Ipliére smirked and tucked a couple pages back. "These are all you're work, correct?" He said, "Let the record show I am submitting evidence found at the crime scene."

BambamYesterday at 11:21 PM

Bambam nodded "All mine. If they've a little B notched in the bottom they're mine. Some are a bit less specific but I can identify them."

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 11:24 PM

He put most of them back... but held onto one.. He brought it back over. "This one in particular... did you make this one? Just confirming." ... He knew the answer. He gave them enough time to answer. .... "So how is it then... That Yancy came to acquire not one but two of your shivs and use them against this group of people twice? Did he say anything to you when he got them?"

BambamYesterday at 11:26 PM

Bambam gave the confirm. "Every single one of my friends has a shiv made by me. For defensive purposes. I fail to see how this is relevant. We had weapons. Yes. That's nothing new here."

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 11:30 PM

The Prosecutor was sharp tongued.... but he softened. "Lets take it elsewhere then. You were there when he was discharged from medical. Did he in any way indicate that he would retaliate against the group that put him in there in the first place?"

BambamYesterday at 11:32 PM

Bambam licked their bottom lip. Irritated. "no. He was more worried about our safety since while he was in medical both me and my sibling were sent to medical as well. One for a cell invasion that I tried to tackle and unmask the bastard doing it, and then my sibling for when they set Yancy's cell on fire. We have the next cell over and my sibling got smoke inhalation." they grumbled a bit. "The real culprit needed to be in this court are the bastards running around dressed like a burger and a swan."

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 11:33 PM

The Prosecutor nodded. "Thank you, Mx. Gregory. No further questions." He said, swooping back behind the desk."

WallabyYesterday at 11:39 PM

Wallaby waggled his stache, the fake one falling off revealing a pink one. Abe nearly jumped out of his seat. SON OF A BITCH! He stayed seated. Had to behave. Shit.. Oh ho ho! Got him this time! He'd wait outside and arrest em! "Mx Bambam can you pleaaaseee explain to the court. If you make shivs for all of the inmates. Was it one of yours that killed the victim?" ".... Yes." "Was it one of yours that did the damage to Mr Yancy prior to the murder?" "......... Yes" "Ahuh. So in a seeeenseee this is more your fault?" "wh- What!? No? I mean... Yancy asked to borrow one. He never used it when he was confronted. It got stolen by Frank. We still havent found it." "Yeah huh." Wallaby spun his hand gesturing to continue. "Er... plead the ..fifth..." Wallaby rolled his eyes. "Question dropped. Next question." Wallaby rounded on Bambam

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 11:41 PM

The prosecution suddenly looked... confused. Objection on the grounds of leading the witness, but at least he caught himself.

WallabyYesterday at 11:48 PM

"You mentioned that you and Mr Yancy were close friends? Besties! Do you have bracelets?" Bambam gave the biggest wtf face imaginable. "Would you say that in those 4 years Yancy has shown any strings of violent acts at all?" "Wh-....." Bambam's face dropped. Yes... yes there was. The friendly shivvings to rookie guards, the fist fights with newbies. Not to mention that fight with Y/N.....  "Yes..." "Ahuh. Can you list a few instances?" "....... Couple of fist fights with other inmates. Kinda... dominance thing ya know? He's got a reputation to uphold. Nothing more than a black eye or anythin' nothing big. Served solitary for it each time" "What about those shivs of yours? Any violent tendencies?" "....... " fuck. What could he do. Pleading the fifth wouldnt work cos it wasnt about them here. Couldnt lie. Likely wallaby had the answer already. "We er.... contrary to popular belief we like it at Happy Trails.... We er.. sometimes have to ensure that we don't land up in parole. We dont want to leave. So..... Sometimes.. we have to er... Prod a couple guards or fellow inmates to ensure that doesnt happen...bu-..." no buts "Though we make sure not to aim anywhere lethal, or permanently harmful." "So what youre saying is that Yancy has a history of stabbing fellow inmates?" "Wh-. I" Wallaby raised a brow "How does that help his case? I-.... Youre gonna get him killed!" "Answer the quessstion" Wallaby waggled his stache at Bambam who shifted abruptly "What? No! He doesn't go around killing people! HE's a sweetheart!">>Wallaby frowned "He has 3 prior murder charges" "We all do" Bambam sneered "Doesnt mean were gonna go ape shit for no fuckin reason!" "And yet he did" "He wasn't himself!" Bambam stood up and Yancy did everything he could to keep his own composure. Sparkles shifting to stand and try to tell Bambam to sit down but Jimmy caught them. "But theres chance he could do it again?" "No! He had a trauma reaction to someone who tried to kill him and wasn't himself! Disassociated afterwards and just f-" he paused and looked to the prosecutor, then the bagel judge "This is fucking bullshit!!"/e

Mr. D.IpliéreYesterday at 11:57 PM

The judge seemed to warn the witness to watch his temper and language with another tap from the gavel, however it might've just fallen off of it.. It was for not though. Bambam's sudden outburst would get them held in contempt. The prosecutor didn't seem to mind the case practically making itself. Like he said. Open and shut. He began putting some papers into an organized pile to put back in the evidence box.

BambamYesterday at 11:58 PM

Bambam kicked up a fuss as they were dragged out by Rex, tossed out of the room and given to some other guards to take care of. Sparkles could be heard jingling as they started shaking. This was bad. "No more questions~" Wallaby smirked and wandered back to his desk, leaning back and opened his snickers. omnomnom~

December 1, 2019

Mr. D.IpliéreToday at 12:08 AM

The prosecution Put the rest of the file back into his briefcase and waited for the judge's word... Again longer than necessary. Closing remarks.

"Your honour what should have been a cut and dry case was dragged through the mud and hung out to dry. But we all know who's responsible for these horrendous actions. And we have to keep in mind the safety of not only the Accused, but the people he spends his time with and around. Therefore, I surmise that if the appropriate punishment as dictated by this our court was followed then the real problem - no - the real threat... would remain in place." He adjusted the rims of his glasses. "You've heard it here today that the prisoners don't wish to leave Happy Trails. That suggests not only that rehabilitation is not working, but that it is fostering this kind of environment where behaviour like this thrives. Gangs growing, crime rising. Fifteen years the prison goes without a fight. And now, suddenly, it's all growing. And it's all... Surrounding... The Warden." He paused. "But we're not here discussing the misdeeds of a prison warden, if we were we would be here for a very long time your honour." He chuckled. "But what the accused isn't the chair, isn't one death on our hands enough? Isn't this suffering enough? Daily one hour sessions aren't enough for a prisoner with PTSD. Real security measures must be put in place to protect everyone. These crimes cannot go unanswered. I hope you'll make the right decision, your honour. Think about what's best for the state, for the prison.... for the world."*

WallabyToday at 12:20 AM

Wallaby stood. "What we clearly have is a ruthless psychopathic murderer on our hands! One that can't be controlled! If not the chair then clearly the padded cells are what waits them!" Wallaby huffed. "While they are most certainly a sweetheart, inside lies a beast waiting to jump owut! I hope you make the right decision your honor!"

Mr. D.IpliéreToday at 12:20 AM

There is a feeling in the air... like an old tube tv being left on all night.. there seems to be a red static effect around him for a few moments.

The bagel contemplated this for quite some time.........The room was silent... tense as it awaited a verdict.

In the case of  Mr. Y. "Yancy" Iplier for the murder of Mr. Frank "Tooth Wallace in this the year of our lord 20biteen... We the carbed find the defendant...

The door to the back of the courtroom swings open and loudly shuts behind as a woman in white storms in . She walks all the way from one end of the room to the other, storming like a man on a mission. "Your honour, this court room is in serious violation and has grounds to be dismissed as Mistrial."(edited)The prosecution looked mortified. "On what grounds?" "FOR ONE THING THE DEFENSE IS EATING THE JUDGE" "You're being ridiculous." "No! This whole thing makes no sense at all! Why does he have a giant letter A? Why does he have a GUN?" This woman was not pleased.*

WallabyToday at 12:34 AM

Wallaby goes wide eyed, quickly putting the half eaten judge down "wh- n-noooooo! It's a perfectly respectable cowurt room!" Wilford started to protest, gun wafting in the air

Mr. D.IpliéreToday at 12:36 AM

The womans eyes lit up like fire behind her glasses. The Prosecution's demeanor cracked a little. She turned on her heel and just... walked behind the judge counter... Taking a piece of paper from in front of where the bagel used to be and reading it out loud. "Mr Y. Yancy. On the grounds of improper legal council proceedings and a seemingly under prepared lawyer defending you, I have no choice but to dismiss this case. You're free to go." She says firmly, taking the gavel and tapping it with a loud solid crack.

WallabyToday at 12:40 AM

Wilford fidgeted and wandered closer to Mr. Ipliére ..... "I-............." He fidgeted his hands together "Are we fired?"

Mr. D.IpliéreToday at 12:45 AM

Mr. Ipliére smirked. "Probably won't be allowed to run another court show, ol' boy." He said with a little smirk. "Now... you should go celebrate with your client.  Enjoy the rest of your night, Mr... Wallaby." He gave a slight smile... And watched the woman put the courtroom back in order. The trial would go through an evaluation and, most likely, completely be appealed. She marched over to them both. "YOU! What in HELL where you thinking?" She asked loudly. "Kathryn please-" "NO! Don't you Kathryn please me! you were COMPLETELY unprofessional and nearly cost this man his life." There was a loud popping sound and the red around the man got a little brighter. He tried to walk away from her and his silhouette seemed.. delayed behind him. "Hey Get back here!" She shouted. He was leading the hurricane away from Wil and Yancy. No more shouting for one day...

WilfordToday at 12:47 AM

Wilford jumped back a bit "ah... probably nawt... ah but a good defense case from you! Sawry if my prosecution was a bit har-!!!" He jumped back and looked to Mr Ipliére. choosing to run with him instead. Heh this would be fun! More fn than a boring court room! "You still want that smoothie?" He chuckled as he ran with Dark away from the hurricane that was Kathryn.

DarkiplierToday at 12:51 AM

Dark shook his head. “....sure fine. Your treat though. I did so much research for thi-“ “GET BACK HERE” Power walking faster thank you fuck

WilfordToday at 12:52 AM

Wilford laughs, taking Dark's ring hand and suddenly they were gone with a little waggle of a pink mustache... left his pants behind. Yancy stared in...absolute disbelief. He was certain he was going to get the chair. Ba-bambam... they'd done so much to protect him. And the doctor too! And-..... Mr Dark... He glanced down to his right hand, thumb running over the letters. ....... Thank you.... both o you.... He kept his head down, just waiting. His body was still shaking, his back hurt it was so tense, his ribs hurt from hunching forward, his eyes were burning as tears fell down his face. Slowly his eyes passed tot he Warden........ Slowly but surely the officials obeyed the ruling of the angry woman and eaten bagel.... They filed out. Rex came to grab Yancy and the other inmates, dragging them all back to Solitary. Yancy, to the wardens office to discuss further with him. Court was no longer in session....

-------------------------------------------- 

[holylulusworld]

Hated – Part 15

Summary: Reader finally got her dream job at the SPN set. There’s only one problem - one of the main actors hates her.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader, Jared Padalecki, Genevieve Padalecki, Jeffrey Dean Morgan, OMC Steven, Cliff

Warnings: angst, language, protective Jensen, fluff

Hated Masterlist

 Six months later...

Playing with your fingers you’re sitting in the courtroom. Steven is turning around over and over again. Looking at you he grins the whole time.

Inhaling sharply Jensen has to hold back the urge to jump up and smash his fist into Steven’s face. He can see your hands shaking. Taking you right hand into his hands he plants a soft kiss to it.

Smiling you move your hand through his hair. Slinging an arm around your shoulders he calms you down.

“I wish I could smash that guy’s face," Jared mutters.

“Me too Jare, me too," Jensen whispers.

“They will throw him into jail for sure.“ Gen tries to calm the men down.

“Gen is right. They’ve got my statement. The pictures and the statement of the doctor. They have the statement of you three too, they have to arrest him.” You whisper.

Still shaking you try to convince yourself. This time they have to believe you, not him.

After the prosecuting attorney held his address to the jury you were able to see the look on the women's face. They believed you; the men, on the other hand, were shaking their heads looking at Steven. 

Was it a good sign?

Now, three days later you sit here with your fiancée and your best friends.

Jeffrey came by too. Sitting next to Jensen he looks angry into Steven's direction.

Intervening his fingers with yours Jensen squeezes them softly. Kissing his cheek you try to calm yourself down again.

Biting your lower lip you watch the judge reading the judgment on a white piece of paper.

Getting up you look at the judge.

15 years, he goes to jail for at least 15 years. Sighing relieved you look into to jury’s direction. Mouthing a ‘thank you’ you let the tears fall down.

“I’m going to kill you bitch. I’ll get out and then I’ll end what I started. Going to fuck you raw!” Steven yells.

“You won’t get close to my fiancée ever again. Try it and you will see what happens.” Jensen warns.

Hugging you tied he makes it impossible for Steven to look at you. Sniffing you rest your head against Jensen’s chest while he gently strokes your back.

"He will never get close to you again," Jensen whispers.

“I know. He will go to jail for 15 years.”

“That asshole deserves to rot in jail for the rest of his life.” Jeffrey grunts angry.

“I know man, but 15 years are a lot. I mean he will be 60 when he gets out. If he makes it out alive...” Jared states.

“I wouldn’t mind if he has an ‘accident’ in jail," Jeffrey adds.

“No, don’t say that Jeff. You’re better than him. I hate him for what he’s done to me, but I don’t want him dead. He deserves to sit in jail for 15 years to know how it feels to be helpless.” You say.

“You’re right Sweetie.” Jeff chuckles.

“Let’s get out of here. I need fresh air and Y/N too,” Jensen says.

Nodding you smile up at your fiancée. Smiling back he kisses your lips softly before leading you out of the courtroom.

Watching you leaving the courtroom hand in hand with Jensen Steven’s face darkens. Anger is boiling up his stomach and he wants nothing more than having the chance to be alone with you again.

Outside the building, you take a deep breath and another until you’re calm again. Jensen holds you tight again. Not letting go of you he tries to protect you from the whole world.

“I’m save, Jensen. I'm with you Jay. I love you."

“I love you too Baby. I’m sorry you had to face that bastard again.”

“No, I had to. Now I can move on and leave this part of my life behind. He won’t play a role in my life ever again. For me he’s dead.”

"We should get going," Jared says motioning toward the arriving press.

“Jare is right. I don’t want the press to ask us annoying questions.” You whisper.

"Well, you're the pro. You handle the press and paparazzi better than me Baby," Jensen says laughing.

Humming you hug him tight once again. Smiling up at your fiancée you stroke his cheek gently.

“Don’t know man I need food. What about you?” Jeffrey asks and you can hear his stomach rumble.

“You’re more than hungry Jeff.” You say laughing.

"Well, there's a nice Chinese restaurant 3 blocks away," Jared says already starting to lead his wife toward the car.

Cliff is waving into your direction and you nod smiling. The hearing didn’t allow any publicity or people who weren’t involved in the case aka witnesses, so Cliff doesn’t know Steven got condemned.

Giving you a thumb up Cliff smiles at you and you smile back.

Entering the car with your friends you sigh relieved. Steven will never haunt your thoughts. You decided to leave the past behind and move on.

All you want to do from now on is trying to be as happy as possible and you’re sure Jensen will do all he can to make you happy.

Smiling at the man you love you rest your head against his shoulder. Holding your hand he makes a promise to himself.

No one will ever hurt you again…

Epilogue

Hated Tags

@love-my-not-natural-babies, @msimpala67 , @i-just-wanna-run-hell , @lizwinchester16, @beenlovingromansincedayoneish, @deansgirl79, @kaitlynjones12 , @savannah0111 , @pretty-fortune, @bitchwhytho, @acortez82, @butifulsoul125, @mostly-shawn

Forever Tags

@donnaintx, @screechingartisancashbailiff, @fallen-wolf22 , @curly-haired-disaster, @sister-winchesters99, @mogaruke, @the-is13, @helloitsmeamie203, @strayrosesbloom , @thewinchesterco , @hobby27, @kittycatlover18,  @gh0stgurl , @marvelfansworld , @sandlee44, @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt, @katpatrova17, @hawaiianohana15

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags

@spnfamily-thewinchesters, @love-my-not-natural-babies​, @supernatural-bellawinchester​, @butifulsoul125, @lyinginthegingerlocks, @mirandaaustin93​, @hawaiianohana15

[chasholidays]

I would love to see the TV show Doubt Au with bellarke with Clarke being the doctor on trail for murder who falls in love with her lawyer Bellamy. There's not a good wikipedia page, but there's a good summary in a hollywood reporter review of the show. It was kind of a bad show, but I think the premise would be great for bellarke.

“Not,” says Wells, “to state the obvious, but I definitely wouldn’t want to date someone who was accused of murdering their high-school boyfriend.”

Clarke scowls at him. “So, one murder accusation and I can never date again?” she asks, but as soon as she’s said it, she knows exactly how bad it sounds, and she puts her head down on Wells’ kitchen table before he can respond. “Yeah, okay, I know, I know. But you know I didn’t do it. You were there.”

“I know.”

The thing about an accusation like this resurfacing after twenty years is that Clarke doesn’t actually know how to believe him, if she’s honest. It’s been so long that memories have faded, that even her own certainty has been replaced with fog and insecurity. She knows she didn’t kill Finn, but so much that might have exonerated her is lost now, the details of what she was doing on specific days familiar only from her testimony at the time. She remembers exactly where she was when she heard Finn was dead, knows the last time she saw him alive, and the days after the death are painfully clear, the awkwardness of being in school with a person gone, the way she and her friends would stutter away from saying things like, “I hate this class so much, I wish I was dead” for months after.

But there wasn’t anything remarkable for her in the days before his death, and the investigation was perfunctory, the whole thing ruled an accident, so she never spent time retracing her steps or constructing an alibi. His parents had never been happy with that, had always been convinced something more had happened, and Clarke gets it, but–it wasn’t her.

But now the case has been reopened, and if she were Wells, she’d probably be wondering if there was any merit to the arguments. Just a little bit.

“I’m not saying you can’t even hit on your hot defense attorney,” he goes on, into the somewhat awkward pause. “I just think it’s probably better for everyone if you wait until the trial is over before you do it. And he still might not ever date clients.”

“Which would be a good policy that I’d respect,” she says. “It’s not like I was planning to fall for him.”

“I know.”

“Why couldn’t we have met somewhere else? He’s a lawyer, he probably goes to the same stupid charity things I do. Kane and my mom are friends, we could have met a thousand different ways, and instead it’s this. Which isn’t the worst part of being accused of murder, obviously,” she adds. “Not even close. But–everything sucks right now.”

“I know,” he says again. “Look, I’m the last person who’s going to tell you to just sit back and trust the criminal justice system, but it’s probably not a bad thing that you like your lawyer enough that you’re falling for him. That means he’s one of the good ones. But if anything happens between the two of you, you know how the prosecution would play that. You seduced him to get him on your side, you’re manipulating him, the two of you are conspiring–”

“I know. I know! I’m not going to do anything. Just–this sucks. Everything about this is awful, and even the one good thing about it is–complicated and stupid, and I can’t even enjoy it. Because he’s my lawyer, and for all he knows, I did kill Finn.”

“You know he doesn’t think that,” Wells says. “It’s just hard to prove.”

“Yeah, that helps.” But she smiles. “Thanks for talking me down. I won’t make out with my hot lawyer until he–”

Wells smirks.“You were going to say gets you off, weren’t you?”

“Shut up.”

He claps her on the shoulder. “He can get you off, and then get you off.”

“How long have you been sitting on that one?”

“Hey, if your best friend doesn’t bring a little levity to your murder trial, who will?”

“Yeah,” she says, with a roll of her eyes that feels almost normal. “Thanks.”

*

Work is probably the part of her life she feels simultaneously most and least awkward about, after the murder trial. She thought about taking a leave of absence, but without work to distract her, she thought she’d lose it. Sitting alone at home waiting for the trial date is about the worst thing she can think of.

Not that work is much better. Clarke’s worked hard to get where she is today, a successful and well-respected pediatric surgeon, and while desperate parents aren’t really in a position to turn down someone who can help their sick child, she can always tell who’s heard about the case and who hasn’t.

But it still beats obsessing by herself. Sometimes, she can forget what’s happening for hours at a time.

At least she can when Bellamy doesn’t show up at her office out of nowhere, anyway, but she gets back from a meeting to find him sitting outside her door, wearing one of his stupidly attractive suits, all his focus on his phone until she clears her throat. And then he looks up, smiling, his glasses crooked on his face, and that’s worse.

He’s so fucking unfair.

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

“Waiting for my niece to be born. I texted you, but I figured you were probably in surgery. O said I was making her nervous and needed to leave. But with a lot more profanity.”

“So you came to me.”

“I figured you’d let me hang out in your office until Lincoln told me I could come down. But if I can’t, I’ll go to Starbucks.”

“No, it’s fine,” she says, unlocking the door. “I’ll kick you out if I need privacy for anything, but I don’t have any office visits today.”

“Cool, thanks.”

He settles into a chair, unpacking his laptop now that he’s more in private, and Clarke lets herself watch him for a long moment, the perfect line of his jaw, the scar on his lip that catches her eye every time she looks at him.

It’s not just that he’s attractive, of course. She likes him, this self-deprecating, self-conscious, brilliant man, who’s so easy to talk to, even about the worst things that have ever happened to her, first Finn’s actual death and the trauma of dealing with it the first time, and now reliving it, distant but still painful, with the added horror of being the one accused of doing it.

But that’s his job. He’s supposed to be good at that. It’s not personal.

“Is that my case?” she asks, when she can’t handle silence any more.

“Hm?” he asks. “Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry, is that weird? Do you want me to–”

“It’s fine. I guess you can ask me questions, if you need to.”

“I think I’ve got about all I need from you,” he says. “You’ve been helpful. It’s just putting together the argument now. It would be nice if we could–” He huffs. “Not that I love accusing other people of crimes, but I like having an alternate story to present, and we don’t have a great one.”

“The old explanation doesn’t work? That it was an accident, not homicide?”

“That’s not as satisfying. I think it probably was, to be clear,” he adds. “No offense to your boyfriend, and not to speak ill of the dead, but from what I read he wasn’t exactly the brightest bulb. I get why his parents would want a better explanation than he shot himself fooling around with a gun, but ballistics, police reports–it all supports that reading.”

“But I had motive.”

He shrugs. “Motive is a strong word. I get that he cheated on you, but by all accounts, you guys talked it over and you forgave him. If you were going to murder him for it, I feel like you would have done it sooner.”

She can’t help a smile. “That doesn’t feel like the best argument to make. Not that I wouldn’t kill him, just that I wouldn’t kill him then.”

“Honestly, it’s hard to sell anyone as incapable of murder. That’s not a good tactic to take. But you were seventeen years old and by all accounts happy.”

“Is that why you think I didn’t do it?”

It takes him long enough to respond that she starts to get nervous. “No, not really. You’re smart. If you did it, I think you would have done a better job with your alibi.”

“Seriously?” she asks, laughing.

“Yeah, you would have a story you’d still remember twenty years later because you’d know it might come back up. But it never even occurred to you that there was more to the story.”

“Maybe I knew you’d think that.”

He smiles. “Maybe. But I think if you’d killed him, you wouldn’t have been able to move on like this. It doesn’t seem like how you’d be. If I’m wrong, I’m wrong. I don’t have to believe you to represent you.”

“I need you to believe me,” she admits, and he looks up at her, eyes too sharp. “Is that weird?”

“No, it’s pretty normal.” He clears his throat, self-conscious. “I do believe you, Clarke. I don’t think you did this.”

“Thanks.” The air is too heavy, and she looks away from him, unable to handle the look in his eyes. “So get back to work on convincing everyone else,” she tells him, and he shakes his head, as if he needs to clear his brain, and smiles down at his laptop.

“Yeah. I’m on it.”

*

She kisses him the day before the trial starts, when they’re up too late preparing and he’s rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and yanked his hair out of any semblance of order, taken his contacts out in the bathroom and switched them for glasses. They’re exhausted and a little giddy and she can’t help it, and for a minute it’s perfect, his mouth sliding against hers, his hand coming up to cradle her face, his lips soft and willing.

And then he pulls back, looking more sad than anything.

“We can’t do this,” he says.

“I know.”

His mouth quirks up, and all she wants to do is pull him back in. She’s been single since she and Lexa broke up last year, and she’s missed having someone to care about, to have someone to hold her, someone to–

Someone to love.

She’d like if he was the next person she tried that with.

“I keep thinking about all the other times we could have met,” he admits, sliding his hand down to take hers. “We’ve both lived here for years, there must have been so many events we were both invited to, probably even some we both went to. I wish I’d met you any other time.”

“Yeah, I know.” She wets her lips, tries not to notice the way Bellamy tracks the motion. He’s so close and he’s warm and smells so good, and it would be so easy. “How long do you think the trial will take?”

“Way too long.”

She squeeze his fingers. “Well, as long as I’m not guilty–”

That makes him laugh, burying his face against her neck. “You’re lucky I think you’re innocent, or I’d be worried this was a ploy,” he teases.

“Did you actually need any more motivation? I thought getting the non-guilty verdict was its own reward. That’s your literal job.”

“Additional motivation never hurts. We have a good chance, Clarke. I think we can win.”

“And then we’re making out, right?”

“We can make out either way,” he teases. “Conjugal visits, that’s a thing. I’d write to you. Always wanted a prison girlfriend.”

It’s actually weirdly reassuring, the surest sign she’s had that he really does believe her. Like he thinks a guilty verdict really would be wrong, and that he’d want her regardless.

“I feel like if you wanted a prison girlfriend, you’d be in a good position to find one.” She lets out a breath. “Sorry, I really was going to wait until everything was over before I–”

“It’s cool,” he says, brushing his mouth against hers, just once, soft. “It’s good to know I’m not the only one.”

“Definitely not the only one.”

He smiles a little. “Cool. So, let’s go win this case.”

*

She doesn’t kiss him right away, after the not-guilty verdict comes in. There are reporters around, her mother there to make statements and take pictures, and it’s kind of a crush of stuff.

But Bellamy’s by her side for all of it, and they have an excuse to leave together, her and her legal counsel.

He’s the one to push her up against the door of the car as soon as they’re inside it, mouth hot against hers, hands trailing up her sides as he kisses her like a dam breaking, like he’s been desperate for it.

“Congratulations on the verdict,” he murmurs, and she laughs and tangles her hand in his hair.

“Thanks, you too. We should celebrate somehow.”

His smile is wicked. “I’ve got some ideas.”

“Yeah?” She nips his bottom lip. “I’m all ears.”

[scaredofrobots]

Twenty Four Days Of Christmas

Happy One Month Until Christmas Eve! Here is more Christmas universe garbage for @petalstofish  . Heading into theatre tech hell soon so posting while I’m less cray cray. Thanks to Squid Squad for betaing and being my cheerleaders. Love yall! on FFN

For normal people, the acceptable time to decorate for Christmas is December 1st. The inhabitants of 7C were anything but normal, thank you very much. In fact, for the other residents of in the Magnolia Crescent building, Christmas cheer had been creeping into their lives since November 1st when the inhabitants of 7C  had drug two Christmas trees up three flights of stairs and decorated their entire hallway with lights and tinsel.

They’d been skeptical when the group of young people moved in and even more suspicious when it was three young men with one lovely redheaded girl moving into the three bedroom apartment, but the elderly neighbors were happily surprised with how little noise came from the flat.

This was only the case because Lily Evans was the “motherfucking shit,” as Sirius would say, at charms. So 7C (which housed the four former Gryffindors) was sound-proof which is why the other  residents of Magnolia Crescent never heard anything.

And why they didn’t hear the shenanigans going on on December 1. James Potter had taken it upon himself to turn the extra bedroom into a “Happy 24 Days Until Christmas” winter wonderland. He was in the off season for Puddlemere United and had a lot of time on his hands and he was using his pent up energy for good.

His girlfriend of four years, Lily Evans, was working late, so he wanted to surprise her with the first night of JAMES POTTER’S TWENTY FIVE DAY CHRISTMAS COUNTDOWN. It was their first Christmas living in the same flat and James had BIG PLANS.

Sirius, however, was skeptical. “You’re up to something else,” he remarked, as James added more tinsel to the mantle.  Rolling his eyes, James responded, “No, I’m not. I’m simply excited for our first Christmas together in the flat.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes, “Fine, don’t tell me, but when whatever this plan is totally fucks up - don’t come crawling to me for help.”

Whatever James’ response was going to be was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening. As she entered the flat Lily announced, “I hope you two are alright with curry - it’s been a shit day and I plan on sticking a straw into that bottle of gin.”

Scrambling to finish tinseling the mantle, James called, “Curry is fine! Come in here and you might feel like drinking the gin from the glass instead!”

Lily set down the take out bags in the kitchen and entered the spare room.

“HAPPY 25 DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS LIL,” James exclaimed as she entered the winter wonderland.

He waited anxiously for her response. Lily stood stock still as she took in the decorations. There were paper snowflakes hung from the ceiling, glittery objects everywhere and a countdown banner that was counting down the hours and minutes until Christmas Day.

“Holy shit,” Lily exploded, “Did I finally infect you with the Christmas spirit? THIS IS BEAUTIFUL!!!”

James laughed delightedly as Lily rushed about the room examining every decoration and looking as excited as she did on actual Christmas morning. When she finally reached James she threw her arms around him and kissed him deeply. Sirius took this as his cue to exit and made himself useful by heading to the kitchen to make gin and tonics.

When they pulled away Lily said, “Thank you. It’s beautiful.” James smiled and shrugged, “I know this case has been tough on you. So, I figured I could up the festive this year. You deserve it.”

Lily only smiled and kissed him again. It was true. The law firm Lily had started working for after graduation had picked up the Riddle Case.  Tom Riddle, or Voldemort as his followers called him, had been running an underground blood supremacy group called The Death Eaters. The Levins Law Group was handling the prosecution, and Lily had been working as a paralegal since graduation. The case was complicated and the lawyers and membership of the organization, seemed to change daily. Every time someone was arrested, they would turn in three others for a plea deal. In fact, seven months prior, their very own Peter Pettigrew had been named as a member by Severus Snape.

It had been hardest on James- that someone he would lay his life down for could be taken in by such a terrible organization. When Peter had first been named as a member James was in firm denial. He planned to pay for Peter’s legal fees and bail until the arraignment. When the evidence again to pile up against Peter. James’ heart broke. They’d always joked that “Peter brings a lot to the group dynamic” but Peter was creative and intelligent. Somehow, this creativity had been harnessed into hate. When the original copy  Mudblood Manifesto had been revealed to be written in Peter’s handwriting James knew he could never forgive him. When the photo of Peter smiling next to a tortured muggle child James felt some crimes might be worth the dementor’s kiss.  The spare room they were standing in used to be Peter’s, and James was trying his hardest to heed Lily’s advice and make new happy memories in a place that had made him feel so bitter and angry as they packed up all their former mate’s things.

When they separated, Lily pulled away and pressed her nose against his and whispered, “I love you.”  James started, “Lily, I-”

As was his custom, Sirius Black interrupted this perfect moment with a, “OI! Knock it off you two. Remus isn’t back for another two weeks, and I can’t have you two trying to out-cute us when I can’t even compete”

Remus was in his second year teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts and lived on campus  during the term sessions.

“I still can’t believe Remus is a fucking teacher,” Lily said, before she took a gin and tonic from Sirius.

“I know? I mean bloke can’t even fold his socks right, it is a nightmare.” Sirius shrugged.

“I still can’t believe he made a kid cry,”  James stated as he sat down on a mound of fake snow.

“I can. Those bloody first years are needy. And you know how sarcastic Remus gets when he doesn’t have enough chocolate,” Sirius said fondly.

“Remus’ sarcasm could make even Minnie cry,” Lily confirmed as she plopped down next to James.

The rest of the evening passed by in a blur of drinking, laughing and fake snowball fights. It was the happiest James had seen Lily in months, and he was relieved to know that Christmas still held some magic. Later, when she was snuggled up against him in bed, she told him, “You know this is going to be tradition now right? A winter wonderland on Dec 1?”

James laughed before he kissed her and replied, “As you wish.”

Two weeks of JAMES POTTER’S TWENTY FIVE DAY CHRISTMAS COUNTDOWN passed by almost completely without incident. James had recreated some of Lily’s favorite events from her famous 84 day failed advent calendar, and she was more excited for Christmas than she had been in her entire life.

Every evening when she would return home from work, she would rush in and demand to know what the “Christmas Countdown Activity” was.

Sirius, however, found the whole ordeal suspicious. James had always tolerated Lily’s Christmas Obsession at best, but now it seemed almost like he was trying to out-Christmas Lily Evans.

He confronted James about it when they were traveling to pick Remus up from Kings Cross on December 18. As they stood on the platform with their “Professor Remus Lupin” sign wearing their chauffeur uniforms, which had started as a joke but had quickly become tradition, Sirius broached the subject. “SO what are you up to with the Christmas Countdown, mate? You’re suspiciously festive- and I know a Potter scheme when I see it.”

James dropped the sign. Picking it up, he responded (in a slightly higher tone than normal), “I’m not up to anything! Just want to make our first Christmas in the flat special. Does Lily think I’m up to something?”

Sirius stared at him for a long moment. “No. Lily hasn’t mentioned anything to me. But as I said, you seem suspiciously festive and I get the distinct feeling you are up to something.”

His composure regained, James reiterated “I just want to make our first Christmas in the flat special. To show Lily how I am excited about her favorite holiday.”

As they stood there waiting, Sirius tried to piece together the clues.This year, James had gone absolutely bonkers over Christmas. He hadn’t complained once in November when they were putting up the Christmas decorations, whereas last year he refused to even look at Lily’s tree until December. He had even taken to wearing a different Christmas jumper every day just to make Lily smile, and he had a list of events for every day. It was like he was Lily Evans on a Christmas overdose. Which only meant one thing.

“So you’re trying to out Christmas her then? That is it? You’re in the off-season so your competitiveness is showing itself in some mad Christmas spirit contest that she doesn’t even know she is a part of?” Sirius exclaimed.

Laughing James said, “Alright alright- you figured out my big secret. Just don’t tell Lily”

They were interrupted by the arrival of Remus. “I really wish you two would stop with the damn sign and the damn uniforms. I’m not your child.”

“But Remus,” Sirius gasped holding a hand to his chest, “How else are we going to practice the multitude of ways we are going to embarrass our children when they go to Hogwarts.”

Remus simply grumbled, handed Sirius his suitcase, and said, “Lead the way then, oh brave chauffeurs.”

On the drive home, Remus updated them on the goings on at Hogwarts. As he was telling them the dramatic details of the most recent break up of a couple of sixth year Ravenclaws, Sirius exclaimed, “I always knew the professors were bloody gossips.”

“It’s free entertainment, mate. We aren’t paid enough, and most of the time I want to hit my head against the wall, so their dramatic lives are something to look forward to. And don’t act like you don’t live for the updates,” Remus countered.

They arrived at 7C Magnolia Crescent and were greeted with a very festively dressed Lily Evans who had spent her day off making a “WELCOME HOME REMUS” feast, which was strangely close to what a Christmas dinner would be like.

The next three days were full of “Mandatory Festive Fun, Remus you big stick in the mud,” James- not Lily- would say every morning. James had planned an obnoxious amount of Christmas activities and since Lily was off work and Remus was back, each day was packed with festive activities.

On the 19th, Remus’ first day home. James naturally had arranged for them to relive The Polar Express by riding a train to Hogwarts where he had somehow convinced Dumbledore to play the role of Santa and to give each one of them sleighbells. They took the Knight Bus home and enjoyed the hot chocolate except for Remus who was unamused by having to make the long train ride two days in a row.

The next day, they all went ice skating. This was when Remus finally perked up because James and Sirius were terrible.  Lily and Remus spent hours trying to get James and Sirius to make at least one loop around the ice but both of them would fall in a tangle of legs and arms every time. The four of them hadn’t laughed that hard since before Peter’s trial and the joy was welcome.

That evening was spent threading popcorn onto string, drinking copious amounts of wine and trying to get their television to work despite the magical interference.  When that failed, James and Lily watched as Remus and Sirius played Wizard’s Chess. When Lily fell asleep against James on the couch Sirius looked to James and told him, “I don’t think you’ll be able to top the past two days mate. And you’ve got 4 days of your countdown left.”

James smiled and told him, “Never doubt me, Sirius. I’m a man on a mission”

Sirius’ response was interrupted by his bishop being destroyed.

The next day was for baking and donating. The four of them spent hours baking, frosting and delivering cookies. Sirius only got in trouble for trying to eat the icing twice while Remus received a lifetime ban for sneaking all of the chocolate chips.

As Sirius watched James and Lily deliver the final cookies he swore he saw the Marauder twinkle in James’ eyes. He had to figure out what James was up too.

On December 22, Sirius had had finally had enough. He knew there was one person who could help him figure it out. Lily Evans (assisted by a chat and some Firewhiskey). James was off for some Puddlemere publicity shoot for the upcoming season, and had left Sirius in charge of the Countdown Activities for the day. Sirius, however saw this as the perfect opportunity to have a Chat With Evans about James’ recently developed Christmas cheer.

Remus had taken his grading to a nearby coffee shop- “I need some fucking quiet Sirius - you’re always so loud. Even your silence is distracting” -he had ranted as he left the flat. So Sirius and Lily were alone for the better part of the afternoon, and Sirius planned to find out if Lily knew what James was planning, or, at the very least, if she found the behavior odd.

He didn’t have to wait long. Halfway into their second bottle of Firewhiskey,  Lily looked at Sirius with a stern expression and asked, “Do you know why James is so suspiciously festive? Is he trying to out-Christmas me? Because I get the distinct feeling James is up to something. I’ve enjoyed every minute, but he is relentless! And he keeps telling me over and over again not to make plans for Christmas Eve, because he has a new tradition planned to end all traditions, and I’m trying to be appreciative but my competitive side is SCREAMING AT ME that is he trying to outdo me. And the whole…”

Lily continued her speculations, and Sirius was filled with relief that Lily, too, found the festive behavior suspicious. As she continued to rant, however- SIrius realized that James wasn’t trying to outdo Lily at all. Suddenly all the behavior he thought was suspicious started to make sense. He thought about the differences between James’ general mischief scheming and his make Lily swoon scheming. And suddenly what James had been scheming hit Sirius like a bolt of lightning. He also realized he hadn’t been listening to a word Lily was saying for at least two minutes. He tuned back in to hear her wondering, “I mean, what could he possibly have planned on Christmas Eve that is so great? I have half a mind to plan an alternative event and botch his plan.”

Panicking because he knew how horribly this all could go Sirius yelled, “NO!”

When Lily looked affronted and asked, “And why the FUCK not?”

“I mean, sure you need to take back your title. Or whatever. But not on Christmas Eve. James has always loved Christmas Eve the most. So just wait until Christmas Day for whatever idea you’re planning,” Sirius explained, rather lamely.

Lily huffed but exhaled “I suppose you’re right. It is Christmas after all. You have to help me though.”

Sirius draped an arm around her shoulders and said, “Of course, Evans, couldn’t leave my prank partner alone in her mischief.”

Lily snuggled closer to him and wrapped her arms around him, “You know I love you Sirius. You’re like the brother I never knew I wanted.”

Sirius kissed the crown of Lily’s head, “I know Evans. But it is far too early in our chat to be getting so weepy.”

Lily sat up on her knees and looked Sirius in the eye, “It isn’t too early in the evening. After Petunia, and Peter and this case- I just want you to know that I love you- you’re my family and I am not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me for forever.”

Sirius smiled and reached for her hand, “Evans, I knew I was stuck with you forever when you wrote a Christmas song about Hippogriffs. Now stop this sappy nonsense. Let’s go spread the Christmas cheer into your bedroom. See how James likes it.”

The rest of the their time was spent singing their old favorite:

God rest ye merry hippogriffs, Let nothing you dismay, For Lily and Sirius Will feed you Christmas Day, And save you all from Slytherins Who all are dirty gits O tidings of comfort and joy, Comfort and joy, Oh tidings of comfort and joy.

And James and Lily’s bedroom was transformed into a Winter Wonderland.

When Remus arrived at 6pm he found them skipping around the spare bedroom throwing fake snowballs.

“OI!” Remus interrupted, “Are you two quite finished? We’re supposed to meet James to go see the Nutcracker in 30 minutes.”

Miraculously, they made it to the theatre with time to spare. Remus and Sirius always forgot that drunk Lily was quick and nimble and, apparently, very very VERY excited to see the Nutcracker.

When they reached James outside the theatre, Lily’s momentum nearly knocked him to the ground when she hugged him.

“I’m on to you, James Potter,” she told him seriously. James immediately paled and looked to Sirius for explanation.

“Yes James, I was telling Lily all about how you’re trying to out Christmas her,” Sirius explained in his lawyer voice and tugged on his left ear which meant that he and James would be having a chat of their own.

Lily giggled and explained “But I am the queen of Christmas cheer and you will never take my crown. Just be prepared.”

Lily started to walk towards the entrance of the theatre and missed the glances exchanged between Sirius and James.

The ballet was wonderful. Sirius thoroughly enjoyed Act One. What he enjoyed even more was how watching how nervous James was acting. James was a bundle of nerves. He seemed like a man on death row.

At intermission, James seemed to have had enough. He told Lily, “Lil, Sirius and I will grab some wines. You and Remus should check out the Christmas Trees of the World display on the second floor lobby.”

Lily, still slightly buzzed, cooed and dragged Remus off.

Sirius crossed his arms and said “When?”

James, startled at his abruptness, answered, “Christmas Eve”

Raising his eyebrow, Sirius asked again, “Where?”

James stuttered, “The- the cottage”

Sirius bit back a smile, “Have you got the-“ as he gestured vaguely.

“What? Oh the- yeah, mum sent it to me ages ago,” James said blushing slightly.

“How?” Sirius interrogated further

“How? Oh well Remus-“ James tried

“REMUS KNOWS?!?!” Sirius erupted, and several patrons stopped to stare. Lowering his voice he continued “You told Remus, but not me- your best mate- your pal- your-“

“Stop. Stop,” James demanded, “I’m sure you’re about to go into a lovely and dramatic rant about how I have betrayed you. But for once in your life just listen.”

Offended, but resolved to be silent, Sirius nodded.

“Look- you know how Lily is. She says she loves surprises, but then she just has to know. She unwraps and rewraps all her presents and thinks none of us knows. She will smell something suspicious and have to know what it is. But this. THIS is the one thing I want to actually surprise her. And if you knew- you’d have one of your chats- which, by the way I know is just the two of you getting smashed and solving problems.”

Sirius interjected, “That is not what our chats are”

“Yes it is, Sirius. And I know all about the Longbottoms wedding, too. John Dawlish was assigned as my auror during Peter’s trial and was very confused when I mentioned I lived with you and Lily,” James smirked.

Sirius shrugged.

Continuing, James breathed out a sigh, “So I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you or Lily to ruin this for her. I want it to be perfect. She deserves it. She deserves it all.”

Sirius studied him, “You’ll take care of her?”

James crossed his heart, “I solemnly swear.”

Sirius held out his hand and James shook it. Feeling that wasn’t enough, the two brothers embraced.

“I’m happy for you mate,” Sirius told him, “I’m right pissed at you, but happy”

James laughed, “Want to help me set up tomorrow?”

“I’d be delighted.” Sirius grinned

They worked their way through the crowd and found Lily and Remus near the Canada tree.

As they approached Remus asked, “No wine?”

Sirius winked and said “They only had white.”

Lily scoffed and said “Uncultured swine,” before looking at the returning boys;, she studied them a moment and remarked, “You two look happy.”

“Ah Evans, three days until Christmas you know. Bloke is bound to be happy,” Sirius chuckled and pulled her into his side.

On the morning of Christmas Eve, Sirius and Lily were eating their breakfast of bacon and toast as they did the daily crossword together. The day before Sirius had finally gotten all the finer details of James’ BIG PLANS and wanted to try and help him make the evening even more perfect.

As they tried to figure out what potion ingredient isn’t used very often and rhymes with jingle, Sirius took a deep breath (said a silent prayer that he wasn’t going to ruin anything) and asked, “So Evans what are you wearing tonight on your super secret festive activity James is dragging you on?”

Lily wrote “D-I-N-G-L-E B-E-R-R-Y” in the offending 13 Across as she answered, “My fucking Christmas Eve Christmas Jumper”

Sirius wrote “D-A-W-N” for 4 Down When are squids most docile?  and responded, “I was thinking we should go to lunch. You could wear your jumper then and dress up tonight?”

Lily looked up at this, “What the fuck are you on about Sirius?”

“I was thinking maybe your green jumper with that black skirt and those boots that drive James mad,” Sirius continues

“Alright, what the fuck Sirius? Fashion advice? What is James planning?” Lily asked

Imagining Lily was McGonagall, Sirius decided to tell a half truth,  “I’m not supposed to tell you- he wants to surprise you- but James is taking you to an old church for their Christmas pageant. It’s in an old village and the people are very old fashioned”

Lily gave a noise that sounded like a squeak and said “Oh, well I do look great in green. And lunch sounds great.”

Lily smiled like an idiot the rest of the day, and Sirius hoped she didn’t figure anything else out.

At 6pm, James and Lily (dressed in the suggested outfit) walked out of the flat and into the cold.

Grinning, James said, “Close your eyes. We’re going to do some apparating”.

Lily did as she was told and held tight to James’ hand.

With a POP they arrived at the small village. James kissed her and then told her, “ok you can open them.”

She opened her eyes and was happy to see the most beautiful village she had ever seen. It looked like every Christmas card she had ever seen and she whispered “Wow”.

“Welcome to Godric’s Hollow, Lily,” James said and kissed her again.

They spent the next half hour walking around and looking at the various shops.

“We’re going to be late,” James exclaimed and started to steer Lily toward the small church near the square.

As they took their seats, he said, “My parents used to bring me here every Christmas. We stopped my seventh year, but I’ve wanted to come back. So I wanted to bring you here to make some new traditions.”

Lily smiled at him and said, “Thank you for bringing me.”

The service began and it was beautiful. Lily was taken back to days when she would attend church with her parents. She remembered the times when she and Petunia were angels in the Pageant, the time Petunia was Mary and Lily was a donkey and most of all how singing “Silent Night” in a candlelit church really but her in the Christmas spirit.

At the gospel reading, they were happy to watch the children of the village perform a Christmas Pageant. Lily fell instantly in love with a set of twin boys who were playing sheep. They went straight up to the baby Jesus and had to be drug from the sanctuary at the end of the pageant.

Later, when the priest was breaking the bread for communion, the twin boys somehow were running down the aisle of the sanctuary and straight to baby Jesus. They remained there for the rest of the service.

As they were leaving,  one of the boys ran up to them and yelled “Happy Christmas!” Lily crouched to his eye level and told him, “Happy Christmas! You were my favorite sheep.”

The little boy grinned and said, “Did you see baby Jesus up there!”

Lily responded, “I did!”

They were interrupted by a very pretty, but tired-looking woman who was saying, “There you are Max! What’ve I told you about running off.”

Max’s mother had the other twin firmly by the hand. “Sorry Mummy,” he murmured and ran over to her.

“Your children are lovely,” Lily stated as she stood up.

The mother smiled and said, “Sometimes. I’m glad we weren’t struck by lightening when they interrupted the Eucharist, but thankfully Father Brown loves children and thinks they should be a part of the service. Are you two new to the village? It’s a great place for young families.”

James smiled and pulled Lily close, “Oh, no, we’re just here for Christmas Eve. My parents used to bring me.”

“Well, I hope to see you two again sometime, but I’ve got to get these little rascals to bed. Happy Christmas,” she said.

“Happy Christmas,” James and Lily chorused.

They left the church, and James requested they go for a stroll. As they relived the most excited points of the Christmas Pageant, James pulled Lily to a stop in front of a small cottage.

“James?” Lily asked and turned to him, “Why are we stopping?”

“Oh, well- another tradition we had when I was younger was that we opened one Christmas gift on Christmas Eve,” James started, “And I wanted to give you this gift here.”

Lily looked at him curiously, “Is there a gift that hasn’t been put under the tree yet?”

“Two actually,” James grinned mischievously.

Lily gasped and said, “You know I hate surprises!”

“I think you’ll like this one.” James grinned and pulled out a narrow rectangle box and handed it to her

Taking great care, Lily unwrapped the box and opened it.

“A key?” she asked “Where to?”

James simply inclined his head to the cottage.

“A house?!?! You’re giving me a house? A house in Godric’s Hollow,” Lily demanded, her voice wavering a little.

James cleared his throat, “Technically, my parents are giving us a house in Godric’s Hollow-let’s go inside, shall we?”

James offered his arm, and Lily took it and muttered, “I cannot believe you.” He chuckled and they walked to the front door. Lily struggled with the key and James told her, “You’ve gotta twist the handle a little- there you go.”

They entered the house and Lily gasped. There were Christmas decorations everywhere. Lights, candles and greenery filled the small entryway.

Eyes twinkling, James said, “Wait until you see the lounge…” He pulled her into the room that was full of four Christmas trees and a roaring fire. Her curious nature getting the better of her, Lily began to walk around the room in wonder. “James- why-” she started, but then stopped short when she saw him.

James Potter was down on one knee in the middle of a cottage in Godric’s Hollow. A cottage his parents had apparently given to him.

She stood staring until James said, “Will you come over here so I can do this properly?”

Lily took the steps towards him and was opening her mouth, but James stopped her. “No, Evans. You are going to let me get all of this out before you say anything or I lose my nerve.”

She nodded and James took this as his cue. Letting out a deep breathe her started, “Lily Evans, I hope you know how much I love you. I love your mad obsession with quidditch, I love how filthy your mouth is, and that you can drink any of us under table.” At this Lily laughed, “You’re so kind, but you don’t take any shit and I love that about you. You make me want to be a better man. You’ve made me a better man. I love every minute I’ve spent with you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to embarrass our kids on the platform when we pick them up from Hogwarts with you and I want to spend every Christmas Eve until I die in this cottage with you. So, Evans, fancy trading in your last name for a new one?”

Raising an eyebrow Lily said, “Sirius gave you the last line then?”

Groaning, James said “Lily-”

“I don’t know- I might have to think about it- speak to my lawyer, Sirius-” she said trying to hide the smile that was threatening to come out.

“Lily…” James whined.

Laughing, she grabbed both James’ hands and pulled him to his feet, “Yes, you great prat. I’ll marry you.”

Their kiss was a mess of laughter and tears. When they pulled away they were both smiling and then James remembered, “Oh the ring!”

He pulled the box from his pocket and opened it quickly, “It’s Goblin made, an old family heirloom- do you like it?” Kissing him again she answered, “I love it- but you could tie a bit of string around my finger and I’d be happy.” James slid the ring onto her finger and kissed her again.

Moments later Sirius and Remus burst out of the kitchen yelling “Congratulations!” holding a bottle of champagne and four glasses.

James and Lily separated and accepted the champagne.

“Alright there, Evans?” Sirius asked her as they embraced.

“Perfect, Sirius. What more could a girl want?”

It was the first Christmas they spent as a family in Godric’s Hollow. But it certainly wasn’t the last.

[mermaidsirennikita]

February 2018 Book Roundup

I’d that this was a pretty diverse month for me in terms of reading.  Sure, there was plenty of my traditional fantasy in there, but I also went through a biography, some contemporary YA, a historical fiction novel about Eleanor Roosevelt, alt-history, and some very silly (but very enjoyable) contemporary romance.  My favorite book of the month was probably Purple Hearts, the conclusion of Michael Grant’s Front Lines trilogy--but I’d be lying if I said that one of those romance novels didn’t rival it.  Unfortunately, my least favorite book was that aforementioned Eleanor Roosevelt book.  But hey, I tried it.

Purple Hearts by Michael Grant.  4/5.  The final book in Grant’s Front Lines/Soldier Girls trilogy, Purple Hearts sees Silver Star recipients Rio, Rainy, and Frangie return to the European front in World War II.  Rio is battle-hardened and growing increasingly fearful--not of what she faces at war, but how she, a girl very good at soldiering, will adjust to life afterwards.  Rainy is undercover and subjected to horrors that have a deeply personal ring as she deals with the guilt of surviving, killing, and becoming even colder than she already was.  Frangie is struggling with her faith, saving many as a medic but losing more--in ways that she wouldn’t have imagined.  This series--a take on World War II with the premise that girls were allowed to enlist and be drafted in America--really was way better and far more realistic than it had a right to be.  There were clumsy moments, largely because Grant is (I assume) a guy trying to be as inclusive as possible.  But you know--even when certain scenes came off as a bit awkward, I appreciated the diversity.  And the fact is that you have different reasons to bond with each of our leads, and the people they care about.  I’ll always have a soft spot for Rio most of all, because she embodies that “naive innocent turned into a battle-hardened killer” character type I love so much.  But Frangie goes through so fucking much in this book (they all do, but Frangie seemed like such an optimist at first) and even Rainy, the heroine I had the most difficulty connecting with, finally opens up and becomes a fully-realized character.  “Purple Hearts” struck me as the most brutal book in the trilogy, and there are a lot of horrific scenes throughout.  But it was ultimately very satisfying, and a great end to the series.

Empress of the East by Leslie Peirce.  4/5.  Hurrem Sultan, also known as Roxelana, was the first woman in centuries to legally wed an Ottoman sultan, thus becoming an essential empress.  However, like any concubine, she began life as a slave before catching the eye of Suleyman the Magnificent and beginning one of history’s greatest love affairs--that would result in six children and a fundamental change in Ottoman politics.  Peirce has to make a lot of assumptions when writing this book--little is known about Hurrem, referred to by the name Roxelana in this biography.  But she sticks to accuracy whenever possible, and none of her assumptions are all that out there to me.  I’d call this more popular than academic history, but if you’re looking to get into the history of Hurrem and the Ottoman Empire, I think it’s a great start.

Shadowsong by S. Jae-Jones.  4/5.  Six months after leaving her husband, the Goblin King, behind in the Underground, Liesl is attempting to make something out of her life.  Yet her brother Josef, a gifted musician, hasn’t responded to any of her letters and she finds herself unable to compose.  After receiving a proposal from a mysterious benefactor, Liesl goes to further her career in Vienna, only to realize that the boundaries between our world and the Goblin King’s are deteriorating at an alarming rate, and something is seriously wrong with her brother.  Liesl must return to the Underground to figure out what’s going on--but can she do so without losing her sanity?  This book... is a lot.  It’s beautifully written, incredibly dark at points, and takes a pretty bold turn.  Liesl’s story in “Wintersong” was really of self-discovery and sexual awakening, whereas here the story revolves--fairy stuff aside--around her mental condition and her relationship with Josef.  Along with a bit of Goblin King backstory for good measure.  And for the most part, I’d say it’s successful.  Yes, there were points where I was like “honestly Liesl should probably do something rather than thinking about how bad shit is” but... “Wintersong” wasn’t a very plot-driven book either, so I can’t say that I felt that plot was meant to be a priority in the sequel.  It’s all sort of delightfully eerie and morally ambiguous, holdovers from “Wintersong”. But it was missing the Goblin King.  Again, I feel that this book was very ambitious and super interesting and enjoyable, but it was missing something that made me absolutely adore “Wintersong”.  And I’m not ashamed to admit that that something was the Goblin King and all the emo sex he had with Liesl.  There were definitely points where I almost felt like Jones was trying to push back against the fact that most of the praise surrounding “Wintersong” was around how hot her male “hero” (................ ish) was, but I’ve got to say that that story did seem a bit more effortless to read.  Basically, I wouldn’t change the plot of “Shadowsong”, I think it’s a really good book and followup, but I would add more Goblin King and I’m not ashamed to admit it.  Still, I really loved it and was overall satisfied with the book.

Immortal Reign by Morgan Rhodes.  4/5.  I’m not going to bother on a summary for this because it’s the conclusion to a 6 (?) book series that is all very convoluted.  Essentially, Immortal Reign takes all of the characters we’ve followed and concludes their stories in the expected ways, and while I wouldn’t say that the Falling Kingdoms series is good, exactly... it does what it came here to do.  It’s a very trope-y Game of Thrones for teens type thing with a feisty princess and a brooding dark prince at the center taking up the actual plot (which involves some elemental gods or whatever) with their arranged marriage angsty sexual tension shenanigans and honestly?  It’s fun.  All’s well that ends well.

Anatomy of a Scandal by Sarah Vaughan.  2/5.  Sophie, a cossetted politician’s wife, is shocked when her husband James revealed that he had an affair with a young employee.  James is charismatic and prominent, and though Sophie can believe that the affair happened, she doesn’t believe what comes next--the reveal that James allegedly raped the woman he was sleeping with.  Kate, an experienced lawyer, is ready to prosecute James, completely convinced of his guilt.  But which woman is right?  I honestly debated doing one or two stars here, and I think I went with two because I get what the author is going for.  But like... here’s the thing.  We know which woman is right.  We know from the start, especially after James’s perspective is introduced (side note: the way the POVs were handled seemed wonky).  I’m all about the issue of rape being handled in fiction, especially when we’re talking about charismatic politicians.  It’s very relevant.  But the thing is that there is room for doubt in some cases; a very, very small amount, sure.  However, there’s a reason why trials happen in rape cases.  (Unfortunately, those trials often don’t end as they should, but that’s another issue.)  There should have been doubt in a book that touted itself as a thriller, but all I got was preachiness and a “twist” that... did not... impress me.  Kate’s perspective was incredibly holier than thou--so even though I agreed with her beliefs, I felt like I was being *told* how to feel rather than convinced through the story or writing.  Like, obviously I should agree with everything Kate says.  Obviously.  Also, the writing just wasn’t great--slow and strange at times.  The descriptions of people were weird.  Like, way to take your novel about a feminist issue and describe the evil defense attorney in a way that is suggestive of her weight--she’s described as a “weighty” woman who “plumps” herself down.  Which... whatever.  Good idea, downright unintelligent and uninspired execution that probably would have been more interesting if we focused solely on Sophie’s point of view.

White Houses by Amy Bloom.  2/5.  Lorena Hickock tells the story of her decades-long love affair with first lady Eleanor Roosevelt.  Though American history has never been my jam, I was intrigued because the existence of Eleanor’s affair with “Hick” is debated to this day, despite a lot of evidence towards the fact that Eleanor was a) interested in women and b) in love with Hick, and vice versa.  And this should have been so interesting.  Not only is there the inherent interest factor of a first lady having an affair--and with another woman in the early twentieth century, at that--but Eleanor was a multi-dimensional, controversial woman married to a controversial man (who had plenty of affairs of his own).  But Amy Bloom’s writing style and characterization of Hick (who had a horrific childhood that was handled... I don’t know, rather coldly, by the writing style) just sucked the life out of everything.  I won’t say that there weren’t some pretty moments and I feel like the approach to depicting a long relationship was good, but this was too boring.

Let’s Talk About Love by Claire Kann.  3/5.  Alice has recently suffered yet another bad breakup--and the reason why her girlfriend dumped her is especially painful.  Biromantic and asexual, Alice struggles to communicate to her partners how she feels, and how her romantic attraction to them doesn’t mean that she experiences sexual attraction.  Right after proclaiming that she’s done with dating, Alice meets the handsome, kind Takumi, and is immediately head over heels.  But does she dare tell him about her feelings--and her sexuality?  This book was definitely hard for me to rate, because in all honesty...  I didn’t really like it.  I didn’t really hate it, either.  It was fine.  The representation is so important that I feel like I can’t not recommend it--Alice is black, biromantic, and asexual.  That’s huge.  I don’t know if the author is asexual or not--I know she’s black--so I can’t speak to how the book handles asexuality (another reason why I wasn’t sure how to rate it) but I did appreciate that race wasn’t ignored in the book.  The thing is that while Takumi was very cute, much of the book felt more like a Tumblr spiel than a story.  Alice has a right to have her feelings hurt by the fact that her girlfriend doesn’t want to be with her; but I also felt like the girlfriend was a bit demonized for wanting to feel sexually desired, and the fact is that... that’s okay.  Alice’s friends seem to say the right things a bit too often, especially considering how little the average person knows about asexuality.  Alice herself annoyed the shit out of me, for reasons that had nothing to do with her sexuality--she was just so fucking cutesy, and in all honesty I had a hard time believing that a girl her age thought the way she did.  It also felt as if that fed into the perception of ace people as these fairy-like unicorn types who love all things soft and cute, which...  I don’t know.  Maybe an ace person would read this and say otherwise.  I’m not ace, so I have no idea. Basically: good idea, not so sure about the execution, great rep.  Important, but perhaps a little too After School Special for me.

The Girl in the Tower by Katherine Arden.  3/5.  Following the events of The Bear and the Nightingale, Vasya is left with two choices: marry, or join a convent.  Spirited--and still being mentored on some level by the frost demon Morozko--Vasya is quickly gains the esteem of the Prince of Moscow after a battle with bandits.  But that leaves her disguising her gender, an d in more danger than ever before.  I remember liking The Bear and the Nightingale--but I’m not sure that it left a huge impression on me, because I felt like I was going into this book blind.  I remember the characters--it’s a big cast--but I wasn’t excited about anything but Vasya and Morozko.  I don’t know, it all came off as a bit slow to me.  Beautifully written and interesting, but slow.  I plan on giving it another shot at some point.

From Lukov with Love by Mariana Zapata.  4/5.  At twenty-six, Jasmine is past her prime as a figure skater, and her pairs partner’s abrupt departure has caused her to miss a season.  She should be thrilled to be asked to partner last-minute with Ivan Lukov, the current world champion--but Ivan is also her best friend’s older brother, and her arch nemesis since she was a teenager.  He’s arrogant and stuck-up; she’s got a chip on her shoulder.  It’s a romance novel.  We know what’s going to happen.  But this was one of the most fun love/hate romance novels I’ve read in a while.  Honestly, there’s nothing INCREDIBLY deep going on here--the stakes are relatively low, there aren’t any major obstacles or even a last minute shocking reveal~.  Ivan and Jasmine really just need to stop being assholes to each other and fucking skate.  Also, make out.  But it’s such a fun book.  Like, the writing is nothing spectacular--there’s some repetition and awkward descriptions--but the leads’ chemistry keeps it together and I pretty much wolfed the book down.

The Wall of Winnipeg and Me by Mariana Zapata.  3/5.  For two years, Vanessa has been the long-suffering personal, assistant of football star Aiden Graves, who acts as if she doesn’t exist.  Fed up with being taken for granted, Vanessa quits--only to have Aiden show up on her doorstep, asking her to marry him.  A Canadian, Aiden is in danger of having his visa expire, and the easiest way for him to stay in the U.S.--the only way he’ll accept--is through marriage, and Vanessa is the best potential (fake) wife.  After Aiden promises to pay off her student loans and buy her a house, she agrees--but can she keep her real feelings at bay?  Another cheesy but charming romance from Zapata, but this one I found a good bit less compelling.  It was likable, sure, but I didn’t feel the chemistry between Aiden and Vanessa on the same level that I did Ivan and Jasmine’s in the above book.  For that matter, while Aiden wasn’t as nasty to Vanessa as Ivan was to Jasmine--well, Jasmine dished it as well as she took it.  Vanessa, on the other hand, was just a doormat as Aiden had her wash his sheets, cook for him, basically handle everything an adult should handle... while acting like she didn’t exist.  It certainly diminished Aiden’s appeal, though I didn’t hate him.  Again, it was fun, but not nearly as good as From Lukov with Love.

[bigshoeswamp]

ars PARADOXICA episode 24 liveblog

all right, this took too long, college is hell, but now i’m here and i’m AFRAID

Hahah... the recap ending in “i don’t know how it could get any worse” wasn’t forebonding at all, right

How ironic is it that i’m here running away from my duties as Law student and the pression that comes with them and this episode is a f* courthouse episode... and it’s gonna be painful as hell... wasn’t this supposed to be escapism alskd

“Ettie” omg, i’m crying already, i’m so happy they’re together (as complicate and limited as it is)

aah, jack! She wrote to him and never sent it D;

“I don’t know what that is going to accomplish, other than the awful burning smell.” 

... the slight irritation in these words!! Did i ever say i love bridget? cause i do. No classic “burning up the files’ scene here, sir, not without a good dosis of sarcasm 

UGH, esther, don’t do this to her, she has nothing to do with it... AAH, this is hurting already 

Hearing esther get desperate like this hurts a lot, especially since she never really loses composture. I thought she would break down, yeah, but it’s more impacting than i imagined, ouch

“Esther: ...I’m a fool.

Bridget: Well that I won’t argue with.” AAAA, i love them (esther is so hurt DD:)

aaa, the japanese american camps... i almost can’t believe she knew about them... to what point you let things go on, esther... 

It’s like she’s been running forward non-stop , everything she passes just a blur and  with no ideia where she’s going, just a belief that keeping on is important sustaning her

I HATE HANK CORNISH. His tone........ ARGH, kill him, Esther!  you’re gonna get condemned anyway (it’s your our chance!)

“I want to say something about positive ions in recirculated air and about how there was this feeling of dread that could be explained away by science. That sinking feeling was undeniably unscientific. It was straight up history, repeating itself” 

Wow, that was beautiful

“It’s some seriously scary shit, dude.” Sally and her power to from poetic to this in seconds

“Roberts is my friend. She’s the best friend I’ve got around here.” ouch ouch ouch

It’s almost funny that when Esther finally has to face consequences, she gets accused of being a Communist of all things... like, No! That’s like, the opposite of everything you should be doing, you fools! Well, i guess that’s how messed up these things are... not even in their errors people can get recognized for what they’ve done, good and bad

“Esther: That is how time works. I’m something of an expert.” I LOVE HER

Come on, Hank, taking Donovan out of the command was a favor to everyone (too bad you didn’t go too)

aaa, NO, Petra! I see your point, but look, she didn’t do it... Where savior petra now

“two sore thumb loners standing just outside a courtroom whispering amongst themselves” That’s the best description of Sally and Petra ever lakdjsa

... AU where everything is fine and Bridget refers to Sally as “That sore thumb loser” whenever she can askldj

NO, BRIDGET... oh, shit, she’d have to expose herself... shit shit shit, why does everything have to be so messed up and complicated

Awesome, now Esther is being a accused of being a good friend 

Bridget is playing the “Not Gay” song over and over in her head in this conversation with hank alksdja

“Secrets? who’s that, i don’t know her”

Director Chester Nathaniel Whickman the Second

OH MY GOD, and here i thought i wouldn’t be able to laugh at anything from now on

Damn, i was so happy esther appeared more in the last season... and now it’s all coming back to bite us... why does she have do be involved with everything

PETRA MARQUEZ. aaa

“Hank: How did watching your friend die affect you emotionally, Petra?

Petra: Probably a lot, I’m not a shrink. 

Hank: Have you ever seen one?

Petra: Have you?” HAHA

“Just because she didn’t sign the papers, doesn’t mean she isn’t the kind of person who would.”  :/// ouch ouch ouch

“What kind of Jew does that make you?

Esther: A living one, Mr. Cornish.”

Wow.

“You think I haven’t heard this line of questioning before? “Am I a Jew, or am I an American”–is this the horse upon which you wish to mount your prosecution, Mr. Cornish? Is she “Jewish enough” to harbor resentment about our country’s handling of the Holocaust? American enough to set aside her personal beliefs for Truth, Justice, and the American Way? Is that the freedom our government works so hard to ensure? Freedom to be shoved into a choice between my blood and my beliefs? Do you think you’re the first man who looks the way you do, to stand before a court and demand  that answer from someone who looks the way I do? Because you aren’t. Burn me to the ground if you wish, but at least have the stones to be explicit about why. I’m not here to plead the case of my humanity. I won’t. Next fucking question.”

WOW. 

The writing in this show is so good, i can’t

aaah, despite everything, bridget and esther love and know each other so much... how am i supposed to deal with this

esther is so fragil, and bridget is so soft... “honey” aaa

esther tone of determination when saying she’s not gonna give up... I LOVE HER

wtf is up with esther family... what. omg, i guess keeping secrets and being shady comes with the family ???

shut up, baliff, let people use the bathroom, come on this is so 2017

AAAH, NO, HOW CAN IT END LIKE THIS

this is pure suffering, but waiting is gonna be worst

...

wow, what an amazing episode

[96thdayofrage]

Trayvon Martin’s parents, five years on: ‘Racism is alive and well in America’

Sybrina Fulton and Tracy Martin’s 17-year-old son was killed by a neighbourhood watchman who was acquitted of his murder. They talk about becoming activists – and how they lost ‘hope and faith’ in justice

When Sybrina Fulton found out that her 17-year-old son, Trayvon Martin, had been shot dead by a self-appointed neighbourhood watchman in a gated community in Sanford, Florida, she made a decision: never to go there. She could not bear to see the place where Trayvon had been killed. Gripped by the “strange paralysis” of grief and unable to eat or sleep, Fulton lay in bed crying, waiting for her son’s body to be returned home. “Losing my child ripped my heart in half,” she writes, with typically unflinching honesty, in Rest in Power: the Enduring Life of Trayvon Martin. “It is indescribable pain. I could not get out of my bedroom.”

Days later, however, Fulton was packing a bag and heading from Miami-Dade, where she brought up her two sons and had worked for the county for 24 years, to Sanford. In that instant she went from grieving mother to civil rights activist. How did she summon the strength to do it? “I did it out of anger,” Fulton tells me. “When Tracy [Trayvon’s father, Tracy Martin] called me and said the police were not going to arrest the person who shot and killed Trayvon – although they had [him], they had the gun, and they were clear what had happened – I was in disbelief. That evening, I headed to Sanford. I could not believe they were going to let this person get away with murder.”

“It was shocking to know that someone can shoot and kill a 17-year-old unarmed child and the child goes to the morgue in a body bag and the adult goes home to his bed,” Martin adds. “It is also disturbing.”

On the evening of 26 February 2012, Trayvon Martin was on his way home from a 7/11 convenience store with a can of iced tea and a bag of Skittles. It was raining, he had his hoodie on, and he was listening to music and talking on the phone as he returned to the house where he was staying with his father and his father’s girlfriend. (Fulton and Martin divorced when their children were young but continued to bring up their boys together.) He was followed, shot and killed by 28-year-old George Zimmerman. The details of the case, now infamous five years on, remain deeply shocking. The fact that Zimmerman followed Trayvon against the advice of the police. That he was recorded on tape saying, “Fucking punks. These assholes always get away”, yet claimed he acted in self-defence, invoking the stand-your-ground law that is currently enacted in 22 states. The fact that Trayvon’s body was immediately subjected to a drug and alcohol test, but Zimmerman was not. The fact that it took 44 days for an arrest to take place and then only as a result of a national media campaign. The fact that during the trial the prosecution was ordered to refrain from using the term “racial profiling”. And the fact that, in July 2013, Zimmerman was found (by a jury of six women, five of whom were white) not guilty of second-degree murder or manslaughter.

Rest in Power is a devastating and agonisingly detailed account of Trayvon’s life and death, and of the Black Lives Matter movement that followed. With Fulton and Martin taking consecutive chapters to tell the story, it unfolds like a true-crime serial: labyrinthine, episodic and appallingly real. Yet it is also the story of two ordinary parents, part of “the mass of Americans living an anonymous life of infinite complexities in the struggling suburb of an American city”, grieving for the loss of their child. They never intended to take five years to write it, but their anguish made it impossible until now. As Fulton quietly puts it: “We never imagined we would get there.”

“We were asked by our attorneys to keep notes from the beginning,” Martin explains. “And when we sat down and looked at everything that went on through the trial, we realised Trayvon wasn’t humanised through the court system. We don’t portray Trayvon as being an angel … but he was our angel. We don’t say we were the perfect parents, but we were his parents.”

“It was very difficult to write,” Fulton adds. “It was like reliving the story.”

Since Trayvon’s death, and those of other black people including Michael Brown, Tamir Rice and Eric Garner, their collective legacy has been to reignite the race conversation in the US. Six days after the trial verdict, President Barack Obama delivered what many consider to be his most eloquent address about race. “When Trayvon Martin was first shot,” he began, “I said that this could have been my son. Another way of saying that is, Trayvon Martin could have been me 35 years ago.” Killings of young black men now make front-page news. The American Dialect Society declared #blacklivesmatter its word of the year in 2015. Racism, racial profiling (and gun control) were critical issues during the 2016 presidential campaign.

Yet since Fulton and Martin wrote the book, the US has changed again. How do they feel under the current administration? “That there is a lot of work to be done,” says Fulton, diplomatically. “I just think we have to do better here in the United States.” Along with other African American mothers who lost their sons to gun violence, she campaigned for Hillary Clinton during the 2016 presidential race. Is she more scared for black people now? “I can’t say I’m more scared,” she says, carefully. “We’re in a bad situation. I don’t know what Donald Trump’s plans are on gun violence. So I really can’t speak on that this minute.” Is Martin less hopeful now? “What I can say is there was hope with President Obama’s administration, and this administration has yet to prove that there is hope for the black man in America,” he says.

Meanwhile, the image of Trayvon in his hoodie continues to symbolise a sweeping and amorphous civil rights movement. The day before I speak to Fulton and Martin on the phone, on what would have been Trayvon’s 22nd birthday, his name, face and legacy are trending on social media again. “It reinforces the support,” says Fulton, “but at the same time it makes me feel sad, because he’s not here.” Fuelled by a deep and long-held sense of injustice, the Black Lives Matter movement pits itself against an institutionalised racism that means black people are imprisoned at nearly six times the rate of white people, and African Americans are more than twice as likely to be killed by police when unarmed than white Americans.

“As a parent and an African American man, I lost hope and faith in our justice system on the day the killer of our son was acquitted,” says Martin, who with Fulton set up the Trayvon Martin Foundation in 2012. “So our fight now is to make sure there are no more Trayvon Martins across this country. We feel strongly that the laws that pertain to African Americans are different to the laws applying to other individuals. That’s a conversation that this country is afraid to have. With all these other killings and police brutalities, I feel as though a systematic racism is plaguing this country and we have to take the blindfolds off. Racism is alive and well in America.”

For Fulton, the message the not-guilty verdict continues to send to the US and the rest of the world is stark. “That it’s OK to shoot and kill someone who is unarmed and not be held accountable is an awful message to send our teenagers,” she says. “They are afraid. They’re afraid to walk down the street in their own community. They’re afraid to listen to music. They’re afraid to wear hoodies. They’re afraid to go to the park and play. They’re afraid to be stopped by the police. They don’t even feel like they’re going to make it to 21 years old. We can’t have that message.”

Neither of them wanted a life of activism. “I never would have chosen this for myself,” Fulton says as she prepares to head to a book signing. “I’m just making the best of a sour situation, like the song on Beyoncé’s album about making lemonade out of lemons. We are just average people and this could have happened to anybody. Trayvon could have been anybody’s kid.”

“I look back on the last five years and all the things we’ve gone through,” says Martin, who before his son’s death was a truck driver who had never been on a protest. “I would never have imagined myself being an activist, being the voice of the voiceless. This was forced upon us. I just wanted to be a father.”

Part of the point of Rest in Power is to answer the question that opens the book: “Who was Trayvon Martin?” In death, Fulton writes, “Trayvon Martin became a martyr and a symbol of racial injustice, a name and a face on T-shirts, posters and protest signs”. Yet, when Trayvon was alive, he was “simply a boy”. A boy known as “Crazy-Legs” by his parents because he would never sit still and who called his mother Cupcake because he thought she was “so sweet”. A boy who was keen to pursue a career in aviation, would talk to anybody, was rarely out of his grey hoodie, and who had struggles like any other teenager. “We strongly feel in our hearts that Trayvon was victimised in the courtroom,” Martin says. “We strongly feel he was on trial for his own murder. So we wanted everyone who had a different perception of Trayvon to understand that this is who he is.

“He was a very fun-loving, understanding young man with a beautiful smile,” Martin says. “He was very respectable. He obeyed the laws of the land. He knew how to handle conflict, if something happened with an authority figure, because we spoke to him about that. He was a mama’s boy and a father’s boy. He was our child and we’ll never be able to touch him again. That’s who Trayvon Martin was.”

[amazingviralinfo]

Despite having read the entirety of WebMD, we are not "pretty much a doctor now." Listening to six hours of celebrity YouTube rants does not make us an expert on vaccines. We watched Short Circuit 20 times, back-to-back, and yet our robot still can't do anything but beg for death. We like to believe we're experts in everything, but the Universe has a way of correcting us -- often in the grimmest manner possible.

5

A Man Claims Running Is Heart Attack Kryptonite, Dies Of A Heart Attack While Running

The next time you're trapped listening to your neighbor prattle on and on about how he's never been healthier and it's all thanks to his early morning jogs, be sure say a silent "Fuck you" to running guru Jim Fixx and his books The Complete Book Of Running and Jim Fixx's Second Book Of Running. Titles are hard. God help us, we know that all too well.

AP At this point, it's a running joke.

In the late '70s, Fixx was a severely overweight, middle-aged chain smoker whose only experience with running was when 7-Eleven announced a sale on Marlboros. Then Fixx became enamored with pathologist Tom Bassler's theory that "any nonsmoker who could run a marathon in under four hours would never die from a heart attack." Fixx dropped the Marlboros, ditto the weight, and picked up several pairs of disturbingly short shorts. The idea that running was the surest path to nigh-immortality may have originated with Tom Bassler, but Jim Fixx spread that shit to the world.

David Madison/Getty Images "I took the idea and ran with it."

And then Fixx literally ran himself to death.

As it turns out, the human body simply isn't built to handle a sudden switch from existing solely on smokes and hoagies to running daily marathons. And it sure didn't help that Fixx actively avoided going to the doctor for checkups, especially with a family history of heart problems. At the age of 52, Fixx keeled over on a Vermont back road while running. It's tragic, but at least it gives you a nice little anecdote to tell that neighbor.

4

A Quack "Doctor" Convinces Countless Victims That Fasting Cures All Ills, Dies While Fasting To Cure Herself

In the late 19th century, Linda Hazzard inhabited a comfy nook within the Washington state legal system. Thanks to a loophole grandfathering in those claiming to practice alternative medicine, she was both A) free to practice medicine despite her utter lack of a medical degree, and B) free from being prosecuted for malpractice while doing so. It's a circumstance any self-respecting sociopath would kill for, so Linda Hazzard did exactly that.

Pictured: Doctor Hazzard, inspiration for the DC villain of the same name.

Hazzard asserted that all illness -- and we do mean all, ranging from tuberculosis to a dropped uterus -- spawned from "impurities" built up in the digestive system. Thus, her prescribed treatment for every single patient was to check them in for a weeks-long fast. Once the patient had become sufficiently fashionable, she'd then proceed to the next stage of her treatment, which involved having them sign over their bank accounts for some reason, then enduring "massages" in which Hazzard would pummel them about the head and back with her fists while screaming "Eliminate! Eliminate!" Ah yes, Dalek therapy. Very soothing.

Thank God no one believes this stupid idea anymore.

Unsurprisingly, several patients died while in Hazzard's "care," and in 1912 she was convicted of manslaughter, for which she served two years in Washington State Penitentiary. After a brief stint in New Zealand following her release, Hazzard returned to her old stomping grounds, where she used her considerable proceeds to open up a "dream sanitarium" -- a place that locals nicknamed Starvation Heights. She continued prescribing enemas and face-punching right up until 1935, when tragedy(?) struck and Starvation Heights burned down.

Was she starving the fire extinguishers too?

Hazzard -- by then a fragile old lady -- finally and unfortunately believed her own bullshit. In 1938, she commenced a fast of her own. And get this: It totally worked! After all, "dead" is technically no longer "sick."

3

A Promising College Senior Rebels Against Seat Belt Laws, Dies Tragically Because He Refused To Wear His Fucking Seat Belt

21-year-old University of Nebraska-Lincoln senior Derek Kieper, like all 21-year-olds, thought he was all but invincible and knew everything there was to know. This is not a happy story. In particular, Derek was all riled up about the tyranny imposed upon everyday Americans in the form of seat belt laws. In a September 2004 Daily Nebraskan editorial, Derek railed against this injustice, declaring that "It is my choice what type of safety precautions I take" and that "There seems to be a die-hard group of non-wearers out there who simply do not wish to buckle up no matter what the government does. I belong to this group."

And like every college newspaper opinion piece, it of course changed the world.

In January of 2005, Derek was a passenger in his friend's Ford Explorer when it skidded off of icy Interstate 80. Driver Luke Havermann and front-seat passenger Nick Uphoff emerged from the battered SUV relatively unscathed. Derek -- the only passenger in the vehicle who chose to eschew his seat belt in favor of sticking it to The Man -- was tossed clean out of the unjust steel cage that the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration built for him.

Live free then die.

In memorializing the five-major UNL senior (history, psychology, economics, sociology, and political science, in case you were wondering), Daily Nebraskan opinion page editor Erica Rogers said that Derek's "brains and intensity would be missed" -- a statement that, in light of the circumstances, probably could have been worded better.

2

Wesley Snipes Doesn't Believe In Paying Taxes, Goes Straight To Jail (Because You Have To Pay Taxes)

When Founding Father Benjamin Franklin said, "In this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes," he probably didn't mean it as a challenge. Yet between 1999 and 2004, everyone's favorite Daywalker took it as precisely that. Wesley Snipes -- who, during that period, appeared in more than six movies and took in $38 million as a result -- failed to pay so much as a single penny in taxes.

He evaded the authorities by keeping a low profile.

Snipes cited the well-known (well-known to be complete horseshit, anyway) 861 argument. It's a movement in which tax protesters point to the wording of Internal Revenue Code Section 861, which states that "compensation for services" is taxable, and interpret it to mean that wages ... aren't ... compensation for services? Look, we don't get it either, but it probably makes a hell of a lot more sense if you also believe in chemtrails.

Gotta read the stuff that comes after that "if" part, man.

It's likely that Snipes's anti-tax stance came about as a result of his association with the Nuwaubians, a quasi-religious sect of black Americans who promote anti-government theories. Considering the timing, his refusal to pay may have even been in retaliation for the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms rejecting his application to set up a military training compound on the Nuwaubians' land and- holy shit, Wesley Snipes. Holy shit.

A government that doesn't support black power UFO militias is not a government worth funding.

Of course, taxes don't cease to exist because one stops believing in them (that's fairies -- you were thinking of fairies, Passenger 57), and Snipes was convicted of three counts of willful failure to file income taxes. After two years of thoroughly failed appeals, he eventually reported for his three-year stay in a four-star federal prison. We hate to say "We told you so," so we'll just say "Exactamundo."

1

People Exploit Deadly Diseases For Profit, Succumb To Said Deadly Diseases

After being diagnosed with HIV in 1992, Christine Maggiore became a highly vocal skeptic of AIDS research. Which is understandable when y-

Wait, what? Against?

Fact: A large percentage of subjects involved in AIDS research end up infected and dead.

It started with UC Berkeley biology professor Peter Duesberg, who shared with her his theory that AIDS symptoms were caused by "recreational drug use and malnutrition." After doing some "research" of her own, Maggiore decided that HIV did not in fact cause AIDS. She sold books, presented lectures, denounced safe sex, counseled pregnant women against using drugs to prevent the transmission of the virus to their babies, and apparently developed a religious aversion to common motherfucking sense. Worst of all, she had two babies and breastfed them, claiming that when her three-year-old daughter died of AIDS complications, it was really nothing but allergies. Needless to say, Maggiore would later go on to die from those same allergies.

"DAMN YOU, GLUTEN!"

But where Maggiore leveraged complete medical ignorance into a book tour, Hulda Clark turned that shit into big business. She claimed that every disease, from AIDS to advanced cancer, was caused by parasites within the body, and that these parasites could be vanquished through the use of a "zapper" -- a device less like the Ghostbusters proton pack and more like a cash vacuum. When Clark herself came down with multiple myeloma, it became clear that her trilogy of medical books -- The Cure For All Cancers, The Cure For All Diseases, and The Cure For All Advanced Cancers -- belonged in the fiction section after all.

The zapper still sells for $800.

Then there's infamous 1950s Texas evangelist Jack Coe, who renounced medical science altogether in favor of a good old-fashioned dose of God's love. Two days after being declared cured at one of Coe's faith-healing rallies (which basically consisted of Coe yelling the sick out of people), three-year-old polio sufferer George Clark was rushed to the hospital when his (obviously still polio-stricken) legs swelled dangerously. No sooner was Coe jailed and brought up on felony charges of practicing medicine without a license than said charges were dropped because, let's face it, Coe never technically practiced medicine a day in his life.

Probably feeling like the good Lord was on his side, the renowned healer waltzed out of the courtroom and was damn near immediately stricken with polio -- thereby proving that while he may have been a flailing asshole, he wasn't entirely wrong about the power of God.

For more proof that humanity is standing on the edge of both being great and being extinct, check out 6 People Who Died In Order To Prove A (Stupid) Point and 5 Ridiculous Ancient Beliefs (That Thrive on the Internet).

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