#she tries to arrest jinx but can’t get through reading her her rights because jinx keeps making loud retching noises

[standsforjinxed]

a compilation of Jinx just absolutely despising Caitlyn:

bonus:

[avengerscompound]

Moving On - Chapter 5

Moving On: A Falcon & Captain Marvel Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Sam Wilson x F!Reader, Carol Danvers x F! Reader

Word Count:  2486

Rating:  E

Warnings:  Pregnancy, death of major character(s), canon typical violence

Synopsis:  You thought Sam Wilson was the love of your life.  You had planned to do it all with him - marriage, kids, see the world.  Even when you’re life gets turned upside down, and you both end up international fugitives, he’s there by your side.

Then Thanos comes.

When Sam is one of the many turned to dust, leaving you alone and pregnant, you don’t think you’ll ever stop grieving.  Yet, everyone tells you that Sam would want you to move on and live your life - that he’d want you to be happy. Gradually you open your heart up to another.  Carol Danvers has lost people too.  First her daughter, then her wife.  As the two of you lean on each other, feelings grow and you move on together.

So what happens when Sam is returned to you?

Chapter 5: When the Dust Settles

Steve had gotten the call from Bruce late at night.  It had come in on his emergency burner phone -  the one that only Tony Stark had the number for.  You’d seen him answer it with shaking hands, and the different possibilities of why Tony might be calling had all seemed to run through your head simultaneously.  Had they overturned the Accords?  Had they dropped the charges against all of you?  Was he just calling to say sorry or that he missed Steve?  Had something bad happened?  Was there an attack and the Accords didn’t matter now, because they needed everyone on board?  Had something happened to Rhodey?

While one of those was right, the last thing you’d expected to hear was for Steve to say the words; ‘Bruce calm down, I don’t understand what you’re trying to say’.

You’d watched the news on the flight to Scotland to retrieve Vision and Wanda.  You’d been told Vision was at risk of attack and your group had arrived not a second too soon. Wanda and Vision were being attacked by two aliens that had to be at least six-foot-six.

Your group had managed to protect them, though Vision had been injured and Steve decided that with this attack, it was time to go home.

Despite what was happening, you couldn’t help but be excited to go back to the compound.  Maybe if you could all deal with this, it would show everyone how the Avengers were needed and you could all go home for good.  You wondered if Tony had kept your things and if not where they would be.  You were excited to just be somewhere familiar even if it was just for a minute.

“Don’t get your hopes up too high,” Sam said, practically reading your mind.  “This is bad, babe.”

“I know,” you said with a sigh.  “I know but… we don’t lose.”

“Don’t do that!”  He yelped.  “You’re gonna jinx us.”

“Sorry,” you sighed, shaking your head.  “It’s just been so long.”

He rubbed your back.  “And everything is a mess.  We’ll just do the right thing.”

“Hope for the best, expect the worst,” you said.

“That’s right,” Sam said.

You had stayed at the compound for even less time than you had expected.  A greeting from a holographic Secretary Ross that involved an order to have you arrested, an awkward greeting between Bruce and Natasha, and debate about how this whole thing was going to be faced.  This ‘whole thing’ being an alien megalomaniac who seemed to have a philosophy degree but thought he was an expert on ecology.  He believed that the way to solve overpopulation and limited resources was to destroy half of all life and was now collecting some stones that would allow him to do it.  One of the stones currently resided in Vision’s head.

So it was back on the Quinn for a return trip to Wakanda in the hopes that Shuri might be able to remove the stone from Vision’s head so that it could be destroyed before another attack took place.

While Shuri worked on Vision the rest of you prepared for battle.  You went to have a quick medical once over before this got started.  The nerves you’d been feeling were making you a little lightheaded and you wanted to make sure it wasn’t anything that would get you into trouble during a fight.

“You are a little anemic,” the medic said.  “I’d say that is from the slight malnutrition.  All of your teammates are a little undernourished.  But the pregnancy won’t help.”

You blinked at her and shook your head.  “Sorry - the what?”

“You didn’t know you were pregnant?”  She asked.  “It’s very new?  Five weeks?  No signs of nausea yet?”

“No… no.  I… but… we’re… we use protection!”

“These things can happen, and with the current lifestyle you’re leading, it would be no surprise if you missed a dosage or there was a breakage,” she said. “I’m sorry.  If you don’t want this we can talk about what you want to do at a more opportune moment.”

You shook your head, not sure what to think.  You laughed… or at least you tried to. It was more of a hysterical sounding screech.  “Right.  Let’s wait until the world isn’t ending.”

“I’m sorry, this is a lot to take in today, isn’t it?” The medic said, going to a cabinet of medication.  She shook a couple of pills out of a bottle and brought them over to you with a small cup of water.  “Here, take these.  It will help with any lightheadedness and nausea you might experience.  We don’t want that in the midst of what’s to come.”

You quickly swallowed the pills and started to redress in your armor.  “Thank you, doc,” you said.  “Sorry for bringing this fight to your door.”

“If it is as serious as they say and you can’t stop it, then we won’t be protected just because we’re in Wakanda,” she said with a shrug.  “Not this time.”  She sighed and looked at you.  “Take care of yourself.  When you’ve saved the world, talk to the father and the two of you can come back to see me, and I’ll help you with the next step, whatever that is.”

“Thank you,” you said sincerely.  “That’s really kind.”

You went outside to where Sam, Rhodey, and Bucky were all waiting by the ships.  “All good?”  Sam asked, looking back at you.

Before you could answer there was a loud rumble in the sky.  You looked up to see a huge ship that resembled some kind of tower entering the atmosphere.

Sam pressed his finger to his comms device.  “Hey, Cap, we’ve got a situation here.”

It crashed into the dome above and exploded on impact, completely disintegrating in the air above you.

“God, I love this place,” Bucky said, as he looked up at it.

“Yeah, don't start celebrating yet, guys. We got more incoming outside the dome,” Rhodey added as more of the ships landed around the perimeter of the dome that protected Wakanda from the rest of the world.

Sam approached you.  “Guess it's the end of the world time,” he said as alarms started sounding and people began to scramble.

You briefly and tenderly kissed him, the secret that you had burning inside you.  “Sam,” you said, taking his hand.

He looked at you and raised an eyebrow.  “What’s up.”

You wanted to tell him but now was not the time.  He needed his head in the game, and so did you.  “Don’t do anything dumb.”

He laughed.  “You sound like Steve just before he jumps off the side of a building.  I’ve got wings, I’ll be fine.”

“See you when the dust settles,” you said.

“Yeah, you too,” he agreed and pecked your cheek.  The two of you then ran off in different directions.  You gathered with Bucky and Natasha, while he went to speak to Rhodey.

Steve, T’Challa, the Dora Milaje all arrived not long after, and your team and the armies of Wakanda were all marched onto carriers as Bruce messed around with a set of Kimoyo Beads with the help of Okoye.  As you were settling onto the carrier, a hole opened in the dome above your head and the Veronica Unit crashed down to earth nearby.  Natasha sighed and vaulted off the carrier going to help Bruce get a handle of the Hulk Buster armor.

By the time you were all flying your way down to the borders of Wakanda, you were in the blank zone that you hid in when you needed to rely on your instincts alone.

Sam and Rhodey flew overhead as the carriers took the armies to their positions and you all formed a large wall facing the dome that held the aliens out.

Steve, T’Challa, and Natasha went to the barrier to talk to the two aliens you had fought in Scotland.  You watched on, knowing it wasn’t going to amount to anything.  The female raised her spear and the ships began to open up.

“Did they surrender?”  Bucky asked.

“Not exactly,” Steve replied as he resumed his position.

Hoards of huge beasts ran through the treeline towards the barrier.  “Looks like we pissed her off,” Natasha said.

You watched on as swarms of the beasts began attacking the barrier, throwing themselves on it, not caring that it was skinning them and tearing them apart too.  “They’re killing themselves,” Okoye said, horrified.

Some began to breach the barrier and charge towards the waiting army.  Bucky, Bruce, and the Wakandan Army began attacking them with long-range weapons, felling them as they broke past Rhodey and Sam who attacked them at the wall.

“Cap, if these things circle the perimeter and get in behind us... there's nothing between them and Vision,” Bruce said through the comms.

“Then we better keep 'em in front of us,” Steve said gravely.

“How do we do that?”  Okoye asked T’Challa.

“We open the barrier,” T’Challa said, and touched his comms device.  “On my signal, open North-West Section Seventeen.  On my signal.”

“This will be the end of Wakanda,” M’Baku said to Okoye.

“Then it will be the noblest ending in history,” Okoye said.

Everyone readied themselves while T’Challa shouted his commands in Xhosa to the army around him.  The border tribesmen let down their shields and T’Challa walked out in front of them.  “Wakanda forever!”  He shouted and everyone charged.

As you ran down towards the border, pulling out your batons and hoping to god that you had the strength to get through this battle, the barrier opened and the beasts flooded through.

You were back from the frontlines when you encountered your first one, and you battled it, back to back with one of the river tribesman, the two of you taking it down together.  Two more attacked immediately, separating you from the man and you did your best to take the one you were facing down.  You could already see that this was not going to go as planned.  There were so many of them and they were so strong.  You managed to take down two others when you saw Bruce getting overwhelmed in the hulkbuster armor.  It felt hopeless, but you needed to win this.  You needed to go home with Sam and start your life together.  This couldn’t be how it ended.

There was a large crack and then something flew through the sky, taking out dozens of the beasts in one go, freeing up both yourself and several of your teammates.  When the air cleared what you realized was a large ax flew into the hand of Thor, who stood with what appeared to be a humanoid tree and a raccoon holding a gun that was at least as big as it was.

Bruce retracted his helmet and laughed loudly.  “Ah-hahaha! You guys are so screwed now!”

“Bring me Thanos!”  Thor roared, charging towards the leaders of the beasts.  He jumped into the air and slammed back down to the ground, his lightning taking out a huge swarm of them.

Thor turned the tide of the battle.  The hoard was being kept back and Thor seemed to be getting closer and closer to their leader.  The hopefulness began to return and you got a new surge of energy.  You were going to win this.  You and Sam were going to go home and retire.  He was going to run his business with his sister.

There was a deep rumble and the earth itself began to quake.  A huge wave ran out underground, sending trees flying and bursting out from under the walls of the dome were huge weaponized wheels that began to churn up everything, people included.

“Fall back!  Fall back now!”  T’Challa yelled and you began to run back away from the combat, trying to get away from the machines.

Wanda flew out from the window and threw one of them, taking it completely out of play.  Your relief at the next of your biggest hitters joining the field was short-lived as you saw Vision tumble out of the window of the palace and down the face of Mount Bashenga.

“Guys, we got a Vision situation here,” Sam said through the comms.

“Somebody get to Vision!”  Steve shouted.

“I got him,” Bruce said, taking off in the direction of the synthoid.

“On my way,” Wanda echoed.

You kept fighting.  Everything became more and more chaotic around you, and your battle turned away from actually trying to stop them, to just trying to survive long enough that you could get to the end of the battle.  The rest of your teammates seemed to head toward a copse of trees while you were still stuck in the open. You wanted to be with them if this all went south.  You didn’t want to die in a field surrounded by strangers, but with each step forward you made you were pushed back two more by the invaders.

Thor had begun to destroy the alien ships, bolstering your hope again despite the fact your energy was waning.  You could hear the battle cries of the Jabari as they began to take control of the battle and slowly you began to start gaining on the treeline.

An eerie silence fell on the battlefield and you picked up your speed running to where your friends were.

“Everyone, on my position. We have incoming,” Steve said over comms.  You looked around for some sign of more ships or something, but you had no idea what he was talking about.

You arrived in time to see Sam being hurled aside by a huge purple man that you could only assume was Thanos.  You charged at the titan, knowing it was no use, but knowing also that it was death either way.  He batted you aside like you were nothing, you hit your head, and lost consciousness.

When you came too, you thought for a second you were hallucinating.  There were people on the battlefield turning to dust.  You scrambled to your feet and looked around, blinking your eyes.  This couldn’t be happening.  People couldn’t just be disintegrating.

“Sam?!”  You called turning around and running in the direction where you last saw him.

Rhodey was looking around with the same look of confusion everyone else seemed to share.  “Sam?”  He called as he gazed around the forest floor.

“Sam!”  You screamed.  “Sam!  Answer me!”

“We’ll find him,” Rhodey assured you.  “He’s gotta be here.”

“He was right here.  I saw him here,” you said, and dropped to your knees, running your hands over the ground where you were sure he’d been.  Your hands came back covered in the dust you’d seen other people disintegrating into.  It was him.  You’d lost him.  You had expected the worst but even your worst hadn’t been you left here alone.  You sunk back on your knees and wailed.

// NEXT

[naminethewriter]

This Once And Never Again

My last entry for Dukeceit Week 2021 if finally done! I’m so happy I finished it 🥰 Thanks to @dukeceitweek for organizing this and thank you to everyone who read along, commented, reblogged and left tags, you are all amazing! 😍😍😍 Now I hope you enjoy this last story as well! 💛💚

Here on Ao3

Characters: Janus, Remus

Relationship: romantic Dukeceit

Rating: T

Words: 1,287

Summary: Why had he agreed to do this again? He should’ve just said no, it was a stupid plan anyway.

Janus fingers danced on the wheel nervously. The black gloves felt wrong on his hands. As did his hair stuffed under the also black beanie on his head. In general, he did not feel very comfortable in his current outfit. Or this car. A rental. Also black. Borrowed under a fake name and he had no intention of returning it to the dealer he had gotten it from. The sound of cars passing by in front of the small driveway he was parked in and the tap, tap, tap of his fingers on the wheel were the only noise. The radio was turned off, as were the lights and the engine. Appearing to be empty unless you took a closer look.

Janus checked his watch. Shouldn’t be long now. The make-up on his face was itchy. It felt uncomfortable and wrong, just like the clothes. Why had he agreed to do this again? He should’ve just said no, it was a stupid plan anyway. His eyes wandered back to his wrist. Not even a minute had passed. If Remus wasn’t here in the next 15 minutes, Janus was free to leave. But for now, he waited.

 Time seemed to move so slowly. Janus was usually calm even in stressful situations but this had his anxiety going wild. It really was a stupid plan. And an entirely unnecessary one to boot. It was only a few months, they’ve gone through worse! Literally! Remus had been gone for a year once. Granted they hadn’t been together then but still. Janus was nothing if not patient. His partner was anything but.

 A sound, from up above. Janus glanced out of the slightly open window but he couldn’t see anything unless he left the car. After all, the buildings to the sides of the small driveway were at least five floors high. Another sound. Another look at the watch. The timing matched. Clattering, then a thump as something landed in front of the car. Or rather: someone.

 Remus’ agility was still somewhat baffling to Janus. He had checked the walls beforehand, how Remus got down from one of the roofs without getting hurt was beyond him. His boyfriend stood up straight, dusted himself off before grinning at Janus who rolled his eyes in response. Remus looks have gotten even wilder over the last few months. His hair longer, not only on his head but on his face. The moustache was now part of a beard. Janus was not a fan. With a few quick steps, Remus was at the window.

 “Hey, danger noodle~” he singsonged while wiggling his eyebrows. Janus fixed him with an unimpressed stare.

 “Get in the back, I want out of these clothes as soon as possible.”

 “You haven’t seen me in four months and that’s the love I get?”

 “Yes, because you dragged me into your stupid plan, now go!” Janus hissed and closed the window. Remus pouted at him for a few more seconds, before he moved behind the car, opened the trunk and slipped inside. Once Janus was certain that he had closed the lid properly, he started the car and calmly drove onto the street, the sound of sirens in the background.

   The drive was thankfully quick and without incident. The couple police cars that crossed their way didn’t seem to find a reason to stop and check them. So after around 20 minutes, Janus pulled into a garage on the other edge of the small city. Once he exited the car, he checked that the shutter had closed properly behind him before he turned on the light and opened the trunk.

 “I really don’t know how you can act so stupid and still get so damn lucky,” Janus scolded his boyfriend, who grinned at him before climbing out.

 “I wish I knew, Jan-Jan! Then I could go and thank whoever made me so lucky that I have you in my life.” Remus delivered that awful, cheesy line with so much confidence, Janus almost forgot to be annoyed with him. Almost. Remus had moved closer, his face only inches from Janus’ own until he was pushed away, a black gloved hand on his cheek.

 “Shut up, you corny rat. I need to get out of this outfit.” Janus moved away, grabbing the bag that had been left by a door that led out of the garage and further into the building. He turned back around for a moment, hand already on the doorknob. “And you dear, need a shave.” Remus giggled and quickly followed his partner out of the room, turning off the light when he left. The rental remained, in a now empty garage, keys left in the ignition.

   It took Janus another 15 minutes to get out of the offending clothes, let down her hair and braid it, pick an outfit she liked from the few options she had packed, get the make-up covering her vitiligo off and decide to change the charm on her bracelet to indicate female pronouns. She felt so much better with a hat more her style, a loose blouse and knee-long skirt, slender shoes and her trusted yellow gloves. Once she was satisfied, she went to check on Remus.

 Her boyfriend was already dressed and shaven when she came in and frowned at himself in the mirror. And Janus had to agree, he almost looked worse than before. Without a hair left on his lower face and dressed in the trademark red shirt and white skinny jeans of his brother, Remus looked pretty bizarre. The only remaining difference between him and Roman was the wild hair. Remus’ eyes met Janus in the mirror.

 “I look gross.” Janus nodded.

 “But it was your plan, so no complaining.”

 “What’s the fun of it if I can’t?” Remus whined. His girlfriend sighed.

 “Just let me cut your hair so we can get out of here?”

 “Kisses first?”

 “Fine,” Janus sighed but she couldn’t deny how good it felt to feel Remus’ lips on her own again. Apparently he had also had the time to brush his teeth, a nice surprise. They simply stood there for a minute, locking lips but once Remus tried to get his tongue involved, Janus pulled back.

 “That’s enough. We have a long drive, let me finish your look.” Remus pouted but obliged, sitting down on a stool while Janus got out the scissors and electric razor. Janus worked in silence for a bit before commenting: “Roman is going to be so mad at you once he comes back from his trip.”

 “When’s that going to be?”

 “They planned to stay for five days, so three more.”

 “And he got Daddy, Nerdy Wolverine and Spiderling to come along?”

 “Yes and I don’t know how he managed that. I also don’t know how you convinced him that he should go on a ‘no technology camping trip’. And with perfect timing for your little stunt as well.” Remus grinned.

 “I don’t kiss and tell, Jannie, you know that.” Janus scoffed.

 “The less I know, the better, probably. But I brought Roman’s phone, wallet and perfume, so you should have no trouble convincing anyone that you’re him if we’re stopped.”

 “My, my, J-anus. Stealing my brother’s clothes and papers? You are so naughty~” Janus paused to hit him on the head lightly.

 “Just to be clear: this is the first and last time I help you break out of jail. When you get arrested next time, you’re on your own. And who in their right mind plans to break out in broad daylight?”

 “I got away with it, didn’t I?” Remus grinned.

 “We’re not home yet, don’t jinx it.”

 “Yeah, yeah. Love you, Jan.”

 “Love you, too, you idiot.”

[florrickandassociates]

TGF Thoughts: 5x10-- And the violence spread.

So, that’s it for season five. I’m still trying to sort out how I feel about the season as a whole and Wackner’s arc. I’m hopeful that writing this will help me decide.

This episode has a Previously, and it’s rather conventional. I’m guessing it’s here to bookend the season, with conveying information being only a secondary objective.  

Did we see Rivi scream, “You’re done, Wacko, you’re done! Canceled! Canceled!” in the last episode or is that new to this previously? I feel like I absolutely would’ve had things to say about a) Wackner being called “Wacko,” which has been RIGHT THERE this whole time, and b) the use of “Canceled,” which is a thing Rivi would never say but is VERY thematic (you know, cancel culture and also Wackner having a TV show and also this being a TV show that’s wrapping up* Wackner’s arc).

* The way things end this episode, I’d say we’re done with Wackner. The Kings have said they aren’t sure about the plan for season six, so never say never, but I think that if we see Wackner again, it will be as part of a different arc.  

I went back to 5x09 and while we do see the same shots of Rivi screaming, whatever he’s saying in 5x09 is in Spanish. So either he was saying this in Spanish or the dialogue here is totally new.  

I’m a little sad that I knew in advance Robert King had directed this episode, because I want to know how long it would’ve taken me to guess. I’d like to think this first shot, of Diane flopping down on her bed in a very pretty floral print dress, then Kurt flopping down in the opposite direction, would’ve given it away. We usually don’t get shots that are both striking and kinda balanced unless RK’s directing.  

This also has some big season three opener vibes—the scene where Diane turns to Kurt and says, “I’m happy,” thus jinxing the entire season.  

Diane and Kurt are about to go on vacation, which means, of course, that Diane and Kurt are definitely not about to go on vacation. I’ve watched 12 seasons of this show; I know all the tricks!  

If I didn’t get it from the initial staging of the opening shot, the camera panning to Diane and Kurt’s suitcases and then back would’ve been another clue that RK directed. He ALWAYS has the camera in motion.  

I love that Diane’s travel outfit is a dress you could wear to a fancy party and a statement necklace. Of course it is.

And if I needed evidence that RK and MK wrote this episode (which I didn’t; it is a finale so I knew they wrote it), Diane quoting Waiting for Godot is a clue there.  

I really should read Waiting for Godot, shouldn’t I?  

“Wow. Educated and a good lay,” Kurt responds. I know that the political stuff between Diane and Kurt can get more than a little murky, but banter like this reminds me why they stay together and why politics never drive them apart. Also, it’s really nice to see Diane and Kurt have some fun banter that isn’t about politics.  

And Diane making kissing noises and asking Kurt to meet her halfway! This just feels like I’m spying on someone’s private life and I love it. Not in a voyeuristic way, since this is actually a little uncomfortably private, but in a, “ah, yes, these do feel like real people” way. This is the kind of “a little goes a long way” character moment I always want more of, and Kings episodes ALWAYS include stuff like this.

And there it is. The phone rings as Diane and Kurt are about to start out for the airport. Diane thinks the call must be for Kurt, but it’s for her. It’s a very flustered Liz, informing her that STR Laurie’s execs are on their way to the office for a surprise visit.

If the Diane/Kurt scene didn’t tell me that Robert King directed, I almost certainly would’ve gotten it from the sudden cut to Liz, walking through the hallways and doing a million things at once with a ton of background noise. No one loves chaos the way Robert King loves chaos.  

This episode STRONGLY reminds me of the Wife season five finale. It is equally chaotic and also spins a ton of plates. But, mostly, the similarity I see between the two episodes is that they are both extremely fun and captivating to watch because of how much momentum they have, but everything just feels slightly hollow and not exactly focused on the thing you want to see.  

(Shout out to my friend Ryan, who messaged me the 5x22 comparison before I could message it to him!)  

I decided I should rewatch the first few minutes of 5x22. I am now 15 minutes into 5x22 of Wife and 2 minutes into 5x10 of Fight. Oops.  

Apparently, STR Laurie planned a surprise visit because they heard RL was dysfunctional. You don’t say!  

I felt like 5x09 concluded with STR Laurie being won over by Allegra and the RL team, so this is a bit of a surprising place to start the episode. But, since Diane seems surprised too, I’ll allow it.  

Now Liz and Diane have 90 minutes to agree on a financial plan! Kurt’s on the phone with the airline before Diane even hangs up with Liz.  

Diane is determined not to lose out on her vacation and asks Kurt to change the flight to 8:00. “Kurt, we are going on this vacation if it kills me!” is a line I would worry was foreshadowing on basically any other show.

The RL/STRL PowerPoint template is pretty ugly. They want to call 2021 their best year yet, thanks to the deal between Rivi and Plum Meadow Farms we saw last week. Even though we saw champagne and signatures, the deal isn’t done yet because Plum Meadow can back out if Rivi goes to jail.

RK also loves close-ups more than any other director on the show; I do not love close-ups.  

The Plum Meadow deal is such a big deal that for the quarter, they go from $45 million to $5 million without it. They should just not say numbers. I can believe it’s big enough to take them from a modest profit to being behind projections or whatever, but I can’t believe that they have $5 million in other business and $40 million on this one deal.  

It seems that Rivi was arrested. I don’t think it is ever said in this episode why. I assume the arrest relates to his behavior in Wackner’s court, since there were police officers there, and I suppose that Rivi is a big enough deal the police would actually take him to real court, but are we not going to address the weirdness of Rivi being arrested in a fake court where his employees are being tried, then taken to a real court by the same people who just an episode ago were disillusioned with real court? This seems like a plot point.

Carmen on a frantic phone call in the backseat of a car feels very 7x22.  

Who is James that Carmen has in her contacts!? And why does everyone always put Liz in their contacts as “Elizabeth Reddick” when everyone calls her Liz?  

Carmen calls Marissa to go argue in Vinetta’s court since she’s on Rivi duty. Carmen doesn’t take Marissa’s job in Wackner’s court seriously and then notes that this instruction is coming straight from Liz, so Marissa falls in line.  

Wackner’s case of the week is about rural Illinois wanting to form its own state separate from Chicago. There’s a farmer who feels like his tax money is only going to the big city and he wants it to stay in his community.  

They’ve just now added stage lighting to the set of Wackner Rules, dunno why they wouldn’t have done that earlier!

I don’t know what standing you’d have to have to bring a case about wanting to divide the state in two to court, or if this is even something a court would or should decide, but, sure, Wackner and Cord, go for it. There are no rules!  

This map splitting Illinois into two new states that Cord is holding is a dumb prop because Galena, where this farmer is from, is in the same section as Chicago. Do I pause every reference to Chicago on this show and then google information to see if the writers bothered to look it up or pretend they’ve ever set foot in Chicago? You know I do.

“Secession!” the audience screams. Does the audience of Wackner Rules really want to see this?

A Good Fight Short! And it really is short: “Stop this obsession with secession and breaking up the Union. It’s boring and it’s dumb, end of song.” I feel like that’s the thesis statement for this episode, or one of them (that this episode seems to have about ten thesis statements is kind of my problem with this episode, tbh). This episode is very much about danger of things becoming too fractured—the COTW, the copycat courts, the firm drama—and I feel like the writers come around to just saying no, this is enough, we need structure and consistency.

But more on that later. MUCH more on that later.

Marissa is swearing more because “the world has required it.” She notes this to Wackner as she calls him out on the secession case. Cord barges in.

Take a look at the employee of the month poster on the back of the door at 5:39. Then at 5:40, look at what’s in the box just to the right of the center of the screen: it’s an employee of the month poster with Wackner on it! Cute easter egg. (Would Marissa definitely notice this and have questions? Yes. Is this here as a cute easter egg for eagle-eyed fans? Almost certainly.)  

“Insane is just one step away from reality if you get people to believe, and you know what makes people believe? TV.” Cord explains when Marissa asks how they can possibly be litigating this case. That’s thesis statements two and three, folks. The first is that if you get people to believe, then anything is possible, which sounds like a tagline for a Disney movie but is actually super dangerous; the second is that reality TV is a way to persuade people and change opinions.  

So we’ve got: (1) Factions are bad. (2) People are persuadable and the rules don’t actually matter. (3) Reality TV changes minds. Let’s see if there are more.

(Yes, these theses do kind of add up to a whole—The rules don’t matter, so if you persuade people, through reality tv, you get factions of people believing their own sets of rules and facts—but what I'm interested in tracking throughout this episode is how well the writers actually bring these theses together.)

(And this is setting aside that key themes in previous episodes, that I think many of us were looking for resolution on, included outlining the flaws with the extant “real” justice system and exploring the role of prison in the justice system. From this episode, I don’t think the writers ever intended to really tackle either of those issues. That’s fine—I'm not sure that TGF has something to say about prison abolition and I don’t want a thought experiment where the writers actually try to fix the legal system—but feels a bit disjointed. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, but 5x08 and 5x09 needed to do a better, clearer job of setting up this finale. The key themes of Wackner’s arc were always present, but they needed to slowly narrow the scope so the resolution felt inevitable and clear. Instead, we spent time on things like parking spaces (when we could’ve had a real plot about how Wackner’s court gains legitimacy through violence, incarceration, and playing on people’s frustration with the real systems) and Del’s focus groups (when we could’ve instead done a plot about Wackner gaining fans who wanted to use his methods to do ill). Everything I just mentioned in the parentheticals is in the show! It’s not subtext! We see it all! We see Cord use violence and prisons to enforce Wackner’s rulings; we see the cops turn to Wackner out of frustration; we see that the people drawn to Wackner Rules and to Wackner’s court are increasingly sounding more and more like right-wing populists! I can’t be too hard on this arc because, again, all these ideas are there. I’m not coming up with them on my own!)

I’m just saying: this ending would’ve been a lot clearer and a lot more interesting had the writers focused on what I mentioned above instead of the distractions of the last two episodes.  

Whew, that was a ramble. Hope you’re ready for more rambles.

On a similar note, I’d like to reiterate my problems with how the writers used Marissa after the private prison reveal. I don’t have much more to say than what I wrote last week, but it’s another example of the same problem. Marissa objecting to Wackner’s court because she notices what it’s becoming and how Cord plans to use it for political gain (two Illinoises (??) changes the Senate and the Electoral College...) always was going to be part of the endgame. Marissa only seriously objecting after the fourth or fifth line Wackner crosses feels bizarre.  

Cord does NOT like that there is another court, and wants to protect Wackner’s IP. Wackner, as we saw last episode, does not feel threatened by the other court. In fact, he seems to be excited by it.  

I love Liz questioning Diane’s outfit like it’s unprofessional. It’s a little low-cut and showy, but I don’t think unprofessional is the word I’d use for it.  

Now they have 45 minutes to decide The Future Of The Firm and Diane wants to be considered a name partner. Oh, that debate is still raging?! Every time I think it’s done it comes back, which should probably be a sign to Diane that her options are to leave and start something new, jettison Madeline and the others, or step down. Staying on as name partner and calling it a black firm is just not an option.  

“Diane, there is a split in the firm that...” Liz starts, before asking some associates to leave the room. Ha! The reveal Liz and Diane aren’t alone is a pretty fun touch.

“The Black equity partners don’t want to be in your work group,” Liz informs Diane. “Because they think they’ll be punished by this firm?” Diane asks. “No, that’s paranoia. We don’t punish here,” Liz responds. “Of course you do. My fracking client. My union client. The Black lawyers who work on those cases—they're considered traitors” Diane says. “Because those CEOs are racists,” Liz counters.

Lots going on here, and I’m not sure I understand it all. Why would the equity partners—who are partners—feel like they’re being punished by being in Diane’s work group? (And also what does a “work group” mean and why haven’t they talked about it in the past?) When Diane starts talking about the lawyers who staff her clients, she’s not talking about equity partners; she is talking about associates.

And people are giving associates shit for working on Diane’s clients whom they happen to be staffed on!? That’s sad, though believable.

“So what do we do? Only bring in clients who can pass the racial smell test?” Diane asks. I mean, actually, yes. IF the goal is to be a black firm and to have that designation mean something in moral terms rather than marketing terms, then yes.  

“It’s okay if you’re a drug kingpin like Rivi, but it’s not okay if you want me as lead attorney?” Diane says. Also, yes. Diane makes good points here.  

“Diane, this is not about you,” Liz counters. Um, sure, but it has to be about something, Liz. Unless you’re trying to build a firm you don’t control that makes 88% of its revenue from a drug dealer (40 million out of 45 million this quarter = 88%; I told you they shouldn’t give me numbers) but happens to have black people in charge, you have to grapple with this question. I don’t think anyone who’s fighting for the firm to be a black-led (not owned, bc STRL) business is the type of person who thinks that having a black-led firm that does all the same shit as any other firm is in itself a good thing, so you NEED to address your client list. Madeline is anti-Rivi, anti-Cord, anti-Wolfe-Coleman (the rapist guy), pro-social justice, and pro having a black led firm.  

“I mean, why... why do white people personalize this?” Liz asks. “Oh, now I’m just a white person?” Diane responds. I... don’t know what to do with this! Liz is right that Diane is taking this personally; Diane is right that Liz needs to deal with the rest of the client list. But no one is saying the things that REALLY need to be said: That all their decisions are meaningless in the shadow of STRL, and that deciding to be a black led firm isn’t the end of the discussion if they haven’t decided what types of clients they want to have.  

“What happened, Liz? Last year we were intent on an all-female-run law firm,” Diane starts. Oh, THIS AGAIN! Diane never learns, does she? She never seems to realize that no one she’s approached with this idea is NEARLY as in love with it as she is. She probably still wonders to herself why Alicia—who partnered with her at the end of season seven basically just because it was the easiest, most frictionless thing to do—didn't seem more committed to their firm.  

“Diane, there is history here that we are trying to...” Liz says, but Diane cuts in to note that women (women like Diane Lockhart!) have history too! In fact, she’s spent “35 years fighting gender discrimination to get to this position.” “And we have spent 400 years fighting racial discrimination to try and, you know...” Liz starts, before cutting herself off to get back to the ticking clock.

Sigh. Just talk about the actual thing instead of talking around the thing, guys. Diane is obviously deserving of A name partnership, in the abstract. This is an undeniable fact. And while Diane is definitely making this about herself rather than the big picture, I don’t think Liz trying to trump Diane’s 35 year career with the history of black people is going to win her any arguments? Like, just say what you mean and say it clearly. What Liz, I think, wants to express is that Diane’s individual accomplishments aren’t the issue here and everyone thinks she’s deserving (though Liz suggested Diane was not deserving a few episodes ago, which I didn’t understand then and don’t understand now). The problem is that Diane is trying to fight a battle that’s about something much larger than herself with, “but I'm a good lawyer!”  

And that’s KIND OF what Liz is saying here, if I add all her sentences up and read between the lines, but, again, why not just say it?  

“Alright, now we have 43 minutes to fix race relations, gender relations. STR Laurie’s gonna fire our asses, and you know it,” Liz says. I am curious what that would look like. Wouldn’t that just mean that STRL wouldn’t control them anymore? I’m sure being fired would be bad and all, but wouldn’t it free them from the contract they wanted out of last year?  

“Let’s split the firm down the middle. I hire half the lawyers, you hire the other half,” Diane suggests. What does this mean? Why are you hiring your employees? Huh?

“You hire the white associates, and I hire the black associates?” Liz confirms. This seems like a very bad idea that would make things a lot worse and open them up to lawsuits! I also still do not know what they’re even talking about. And I don’t know why Allegra isn’t a part of this conversation.

“I’m not saying it’s good. I’m just saying it’s what we’re left with. It's what we can agree on,” Diane says. I really wish I understood what “hire” meant in this context because I don’t understand why they have to split anything or why this has to be done now and I don’t understand why this would possibly be a good solution. Can you imagine the backlash when people realize all the white people report to Diane and all the black people to Liz and that people were taken off of the accounts they’ve worked on for years to accomplish this? And this must be something that the employees would know about eventually; otherwise they could just randomly assign half to Liz and half to Diane.  

I’m sad Madeline isn’t in this episode because I feel like we needed to see more of her POV as well as the associate POV. I don’t really understand the divides at play within the firm or what the staff and other partners are asking for, but I suspect it isn’t this.

Hallucination Jesus is back, and at least there’s actually a point to him this time (he shows up when Jay is in Vinetta’s court and reminds Jay that Vinetta will rule based on her religious beliefs). I still dislike the hallucinations.

Jay advises Marissa, who is Jewish, to talk a lot about Jesus in her defense.  

Charmaine Bingwa is really great as Carmen, and obviously she is not fluent in Spanish, but it’s so funny to me that the only time you can hear that she’s Australian is when she’s trying to say Oscar like she’s speaking Spanish.  

"I know you’re hiding something when you speak English,” Rivi says to Carmen. Heh.  

“Community court” is such a nice, unthreatening term for referring to Wackner and his copy cats. Thanks for that, Carmen!

It’s a smart plan to mention Jesus a lot, I guess, but Jay and Marissa both should’ve realized that Vinetta is too smart to tolerate obvious pandering. I’m a little surprised Jay doesn’t get up and argue since Marissa is, obviously, not familiar with the New Testament.  

Marissa wins this round with facts and logic.

Why is the judge who was handling Rivi’s previous charge now in bond court? Make it make sense.

I like that Carmen calls out the ASA for swearing hahaha  

Why... would this Matteo kid just casually mention he was holding a gun, omg.  

In Vinetta’s court, you can be charged with murder and tried because... you had a gun and also there were murders at other times. Coolcoolcool no problems here.

Community courts for civil cases? Sure. That’s basically arbitration. Community courts for criminal cases? Bad, bad, bad idea.  

Vinetta’s reasoning: “Those murders happened on our street, and the police haven’t convicted anyone because they don’t care. We care. This is self-defense. And how is it different from your court?” Aside from the whole imprisoning people in her basement thing, Vinetta’s not wrong. I almost brought this up last week but hesitated because I couldn’t remember the details enough to decide if I wanted to recommend it, but there’s a book I read a few years ago that seems relevant here: Ghettoside by Jill Leovy. Again, been a while so don’t take this as a wholehearted endorsement or anything, but from what I remember, the central issue at the heart of the book (it’s non-fiction) is that a poor black community (I think in LA?) doesn’t trust the police (in part) because the police don’t solve murders, and then with no way of getting justice through the court system, there’s more violence as a stand-in for justice. https://www.vox.com/2016/8/26/12631962/ghettoside-jill-leovy-black-crime

I’m not sure if that’s QUITE what Vinetta is saying but it seems similar, and it’s a decent point (though not a justification for her court). Why should she trust the system to improve her community when it’s ignored her community for years?

I like that the writers chose two very different, very understandable characters for their community courts. It’s easy to see why Wackner and Vinetta feel the need for alternative courts; it’s easy to see why others would trust them. This arc doesn’t really work unless there’s a legitimate frustration with existing systems...  

Marissa calls Wackner’s court a “joke,” which she should understand by now isn’t the case. (Marissa’s smart; she knew it wasn’t a joke the second she saw David Cord get involved.)  

Vinetta accuses Wackner of copying her court, which alarms Marissa. This isn’t addressed again, and I don’t know if it’s true! I could really go either way on this. On the one hand, I absolutely believe that Wackner saw/heard about it, liked it, and did it himself without thinking much of it—and if this is the case, then the ending where Vinetta gets in trouble for violating Wackner’s IP is a lot more of a gut punch. On the other hand, I don’t really feel like the seeds for this were planted. We see Wackner innovate a lot and try new things and he has an explanation for why he does everything—how much of that is Vinetta? And Vinetta clearly watches the show and likes it or she wouldn’t have recognized Marissa, so it’s a little hard for me to just believe her claim when literally all I know about her is she has a court that looks like Wackner’s and she is aware of and feels positively towards Wackner rules. Also, Wackner knows about Vinetta’s court (from Marissa) and sounded excited about it last episode. Sure, he didn’t necessarily know which one it was, exactly, but I assume if he’d copied the idea and then heard about a case involving people from the exact same community where he found the idea... his reaction would be different. So IDK. My reasons for doubting Vinetta’s claim are probably based a little too much in things I’m not meant to spend that much time paying attention to.  

“I fucked up. It’s in the same court, but now it’s a murder case,” Marissa tells Diane. I do like hearing characters admit when they fucked up!  

Diane hears that STRL is delayed, so she heads out to help Matteo. When she goes to change into her pantsuit, she finds that she’s grabbed Kurt’s bag by mistake. “Of course. That makes sense,” she reacts.  

Diane pushes her flight to the next day, also telling Kurt, “And yes, for some reason, I took your suit instead of mine, so fuck it.” I love it when the characters feel like real people.  

I am not sure why Kurt is getting to the office when Diane is leaving or why Kurt is there—to pick Diane up on the way to the airport, maybe?

Carter Schmidt walks into RL at the worst possible time, threating to blow up the Plum Meadow deal. Another 5x10 to Wife 5x22 similarity: he’s in both episodes.  

Liz heads out to help Carmen with Rivi, and then STRL arrives. Oops.  

Credits!

One thing about Wackner’s court that should definitely be a warning sign even though it seems noble: he ignores just about every warning sign, like this rowdy crowd screaming WE LOVE YOU WACKNER or the potential interests at play in a case about secession, because he thinks his fair judgement can overcome these obstacles. If the world worked that way, there’d be no need for his court in the first place.

Is anyone representing the State of Illinois in this trial? If not, then... how is it happening?  

Dr. Goat, some dude who claims to have some hidden historical document about how Illinois is actually two states, is clearly making stuff up and yet Wackner indulges him and Cord. I feel about this the same way as I feel about the Devil’s Advocate: That Wackner would not allow this to go on for more than five seconds before calling bullshit and therefore there is no reason I should have to sit through it.

Why is some guy screaming, “No taxation without representation” like dude you absolutely have representation. But of course, I’m expecting him to be logical, and the point is that he is not.

Dr. Goat’s Latin phrases—shock!-- don’t actually translate into anything like what he said. Even though this information is verifiable by a quick google search, the crowd starts screaming “Liar!!!!” at Marissa. If only I could say this felt unrealistic.

Wackner asks Dr. Goat to bring in the document.  

“You look like you’re heading to the beach,” Vinetta says to Diane, who looks like she’s heading somewhere but definitely not to the beach. Vinetta asks where Diane was headed on vacation. Diane says she’s headed to Lake Como, and unnecessarily clarifies that “It’s in Italy.” She assumes Vinetta doesn’t know that... but Vinetta does.

“So you’ve been there before?” Vinetta probes when Diane says it’s beautiful there. “Just once. We don’t get away often. We thought we’d splurge,” Diane says. Vinetta stares at her and smiles, and Diane hits her head on a basket that’s hanging in Vinetta’s kitchen. If I just write out the dialogue here, it sounds like a perfectly average conversation, but everything about this conversation is so charged: Diane is afraid to look like a wealthy white woman; Vinetta’s pleasantness is pretty clearly also a way of sizing up Diane.  

Vinetta shows Diane pictures of neighborhood children and young adults killed as a consequence of gang violence. You can see she’s not trying to do anything other than help her community, even if her methods are highly questionable.

Diane argues that Matteo should be given over to the police; Vinetta disagrees: “The police haven’t arrested anyone for those murders, any of these. Since the BLM movement, they’ve pulled back from our streets. No one’s coming to help. That’s why I started this court. It’s not a joke to us.” Wait I’m sorry did Vinetta just blame lack of good detective work in black communities on... the BLM movement?!?!?! Is there any foundation to this!? Why can’t it just be that the police weren’t actually doing a good job of policing/finding justice and were being antagonistic towards the community instead of being helpful and no one trusted them?? That explanation is literally right there.

Jay suggests the Jesus strategy, again.  

“It’s women! We could just move on, install men,” STRL guy says. I don’t know if he’s joking, but ugh. Also, what is RL if it has neither Diane nor Liz? A bunch of lawyers who will all promptly quit when they see their bosses get fired and a few opportunists?  

Kurt is watching golf in Diane’s office, and the STRL people love it. Of course Kurt accidentally makes friends with them.  

Court stuff happens. It’s not good for Rivi, and then Liz and Carmen come up with a theory: Plum Meadow is stalling the deal so they can find Rivi’s more stable second and make a deal with them instead.  

Wackner giving Dr. Goat a single point on his stupid little board, for any reason related to his obviously fake totally unverified document, is dangerous. Why would you signal to a crowd that’s clearly not interested in fact that they have a point? That’s basically egging them on.

I know Wackner’s judgment is obviously not 100% sound—need I remind you of the PRIVATE PRISONS?-- but I thought it was more sound than this.  

Wackner shows off his knowledge of paper and proves that Dr. Goat’s document is a fake. Why... did he just give Dr. Goat a point???  

Or is he moving the point from Dr. Goat to Marissa?  

Dr. Goat sounds like a fake name I would call a character in my recaps long past the point of anyone other than myself remembering the joke. (See: Mr. Elk)

“The truth is ugly. The only thing uglier is not pursuing it,” Wackner tells Marissa. How is taking on a case about very obvious falsehoods, funded by someone with a vested interest in the case, that gets people riled up, some noble pursuit of truth?  

STRL and Kurt are now drinking and discussing hunting, while Diane’s arguing for Matteo in Vinetta’s living room. Vinetta is—as was always obvious, sorry Jay—far too smart to fall for this patronizing bullshit. She screams at Diane and plays back a recording (on a baby monitor) of Diane coaching Matteo to lie about his faith.

Soooooo yeah no you can’t do that, that is bad, recording conversations between lawyers and their clients is not good even if it leads to you exposing their schemes...

Then Vinetta places Diane under arrest, which obviously isn’t going to end well for Vinetta.  

Liz and Carmen suggest a post-nup to Rivi to see if Isabel is planning on turning on him.

“I’m going to have to kill her,” Rivi says sadly. I don’t think Rivi will ever kill Isabel because we already did that with Bishop.  

I’m going to assume that Diane chooses to stay in basement prison instead of calling one of the many, MANY, MANY people she could call to get her out/take down Vinetta because she doesn’t want the situation to be publicized or further deteriorate. That said, it’s really not clear why Diane just accepts being sentenced to basement prison with a cell phone.  

Love the STRL man looking at that picture of Diane and HRC. They’ve gotten so much mileage out of that photo.  

Wackner’s court has no rules, but at least since it has no rules, I can’t complain about how its rules make no sense!  

What is this, debate practice?! Ugggghhhhh I can’t deal with this case for much longer.  

Marissa takes a breath, then decides to pursue a strategy she knows could blow everything up.

“Then why care what Judge Wackner decides? Why should you defer to him? Why defer to anyone?” Cord says that’s the point—the people have decided to trust Wackner. “So if you don’t like this court’s decision, you’ll just start a new one?” Marissa asks. “I guess,” Cord concedes.  

“So then why does this matter? This court?” “It matters only insofar as we continue to agree that it matters,” Cord says. “So if you don’t like Judge Wackner’s rulings, you can just ignore them and create a new court?”

Good point, Marissa. Good point. (Does this count as a thesis?)

“I’m guessing that I will like the way the judge decides,” Cord says. Well, that’s basically a threat.

Wackner takes a break and heads to chambers—without Marissa.  

Kurt goes to visit Diane in basement jail. He’s granted a conjugal visit, which means Matteo gets moved up to the bedroom so Diane and Kurt can have some alone time.

Diane is staring at an image of Lake Como in her cell. I thought it was odd she brought a printout of her vacation destination with her, so I LOVED the line where she explains that Vinetta printed it out for her. COLD. (You know who also would’ve done this if they’d for some reason had a basement prison? Bree Van de Kamp. You know what show DID do a basement prison arc I’d rather forget? Desperate Housewives!)  

I love how Diane responds to basement prison by making jokes non-stop.

“I thought the craziness would end with 2020,” Diane says. Nope.

Kurt brought alcohol; Diane brought pot gummies.  

I love that Kurt has never had pot before. I was going to say that I bet Diane’s had a few experiences with recreational drugs when I remembered we had a whole damn season of Diane microdosing.  

Christine and Gary’s acting and their chemistry really bring these basement prison scenes to life. The writing and directing are really sharp, but it’s the actors who make these scenes something special. You can tell Diane and Kurt love each other a lot. You can tell they’re disappointed about their vacation and exhausted by the chaos of the day. You can tell they’re in disbelief over this situation but also find it funny.  

Didn’t Rivi and Isabel have an adult daughter who died of COVID a few episodes ago? Weird she isn’t mentioned in this scene. Maybe from a different marriage/relationship?

Isabel called the SA’s office because she thinks Rivi’s a threat? I think this is a power play.

Heh, Carmen saying, “Shut a black woman up!?” in disbelief in court. Love it.  

Isabel instead flips her story and supports her husband and fights for his release. With no intervention from Plum Meadow, this gets the judge to free Rivi. I don’t really understand what’s happened here or why. I get the resolution, but I don’t get why Isabel called the SA or why this went away so quickly. I still don’t even get why Rivi’s been arrested.

Diane and Kurt put up Christmas lights for ambiance and talk about how they never go on vacation.

“I wanna see the pyramids on this coast!” drunk & high Kurt insists, hilariously. “I mean hemisphere. I like the Aztecs. They, they care about people.” I’m not going to transcribe the rest of the dialogue because it loses its magic when you’re not watching the scene.  

After some fun banter about travel and movies, Diane changes the topic. “I should quit, shouldn’t I? That judge upstairs? She looked at me like I was the most entitled white bitch on the planet. And that’s the way they look at me at work.”

Kurt tries to say that’s not true, but Diane knows it is: “Yes they do. I’m the top Karen. And why do I care? I mean, I... I could find another firm. I could quit. I can’t impose my will on people who don’t want me.”

YES. I see a lot of debate over what the “right” thing to do is here. But I think we are long past “right” and “wrong.” At a certain point, this stops being about absolute moral truths. If Diane doesn’t have the respect of her partners and employees, that is a very real problem for the firm and for Diane. How can she continue to impose her will on a firm that doesn’t want her, all the while claiming to be an ally? (The back half of that sentence is the most important part.) Forget whether or not Diane “should” have to step down. Forget what’s “fair.” If the non-Diane leadership of RL thinks the firm should be a black firm, and the employees of RL think so too, and Diane just doubles down on her white feminism, she’s creating an even bigger problem for herself and ruining her reputation in the process.  

Kurt stands up on the prison cot and warns Diane she might make a decision she’ll regret. This scene is so cute. Why can’t other shows do drug trips where the characters just act silly and have great chemistry? Why does it always have to be some profound meditation on death whenever characters get high?

“I think I like starting over. I like the chutes and ladders of life. I mean, I want the corner office, but then I wanna slip back to the beginning and fight for the corner office. I mean, I think maybe it’s better that I don’t get the top spot,” Diane says. LOVE to hear her admit this. I’m not sure I would’ve come to this conclusion on my own, and it sounds like it’s a bit more about how the writers like to write (you know, the “we love our characters to always be underdogs”) than Diane, but... you know what? I believe it. I fully believe it. Diane LOVES to fight, LOVES to feel like she’s in the right, LOVES power plays and to be making progress. She LOVES winning. The fact that she isn’t just choosing to retire right now, even though she’s past retirement age and has a great reputation, is in itself enough for me to believe that she would find it fun to repeatedly start over.

Plus, it’s a fun new direction for the show to take in season six, because they’ll get the same sense of conflict without the actual conflict. This season’s arc was firm drama and resulted in a firm name change... but it didn’t feel like a knock-off of Hitting the Fan. Diane trying to work her way back into power (I assume by becoming a better actual ally, otherwise doesn’t she just end up in the same exact situation?) should also provide conflict without being repetitive.

Hahahahahaha Kurt immediately reacting to this serious statement by being incredibly silly and horny and then Diane singing “I Touch Myself” to him, man, I love these two. I want to know the story behind this song choice.

Wackner emerges from his chambers. The score is tied. Wackner calls Cord corrupt and notes that they can’t just decide to call Downstate Illinois a new state based on his ruling. Now it’s thesis time!

“I was taken by Mr. Cord’s arguments of individualism. So much of our country has been built on people finding their own way, not being held back by bureaucracy. Yet, if we only follow individualism, that way lies chaos. And that was not the point of this court. Or at least not my point. Judgment for the defense. There will be no Downstate Illinois.”

“If we only follow individualism, that way lies chaos.” is probably the clearest of the many theses of this episode. To recap, we have:

(1) Factions are bad. (2) People are persuadable and the rules don’t actually matter. (3) Reality TV changes minds. (4) Institutions only exist when we collectively agree they exist (5) Individualism = chaos.  

But let’s put a pin in this for now and let the chaos of individualism play out.  

The crowd does not like Wackner’s decision, and decides that an appropriate way to express their displeasure is to make anti-Semitic remarks towards Marissa and then start throwing chairs. What nice people.  

As the crowd goes totally 1/6 on Wackner’s court (thanks for pointing this out to me, Ryan—I cannot believe I didn’t make the connection myself!), the door slamming into the desk finally pays off since Marissa and Wackner are able to use it to keep the crowd from reaching them.  

They immediately turn to the police, or they would, if they could get service. I’m sure it’s not a coincidence that as soon as things get bad, they want to involve the existing system.  

Wackner Rules is, somehow, still taping in the midst of all the chaos. I don’t know if I think they’d air this, but someone certainly would. (I wonder if any of the cameras we see in these scenes are actually the cameras filming the other angles of the riot.)  

Cord shakes his head and walks out, unharmed.  

“You think they’ll kill us?” “I think they might,” Marissa and Wackner fret.  

“My dad said the whole world would be a better place if everybody realized they were in the minority. ‘No matter where you are,’ he said, ‘Make sure you keep an eye on the exits, and make sure you’re closer to the exit than the Cossacks are to the entrance.’” Marissa says. Love Eli Gold coming through with thesis number 6 (and maybe thesis number 7).  

“Your dad sounds a little paranoid,” Wackner says, correctly. Remember how I mentioned I accidentally wound up watching 5x22? Eli calls Alicia and responds to her hello with, “DISASTER!!!!” I miss him.

“He was, but he wasn’t wrong. He said, ‘Stay away from parades. They’re cute until they’re not. And don’t trust any pope who was Hitler Youth.” “What’s that law called?” “Godwin’s Law. My dad said anybody who argued for Godwin’s Law has never been near an actual crowd. Crowds love you, they hug you. Then they grab a gun and try to kill you.”

“Why? Why do they do that?” “I don’t know. Hate is fun. It’s clear-cut.”  

I really like all of this. It is a little preachy, but it isn’t wrong and it’s self-aware. And, more importantly, it’s in character. I absolutely believe that Marissa would tell lots of stories about Eli in a moment of extreme stress. It’s nostalgic, probably comforting, and it also helps her feel like she’s on the right side with the right arguments. So, even backed into a corner, she’s still a winner: she has theory on her side.  

Wackner speaks a foreign language (I do not know what language but I wish I did) and says, “A guy could get killed doing this,” which makes him and Marissa laugh as things crash around them.

Idk about you all, but I couldn’t really get myself to actually worry about their safety during this scene. Maybe Wackner’s, just a little, but I got the sense we were supposed to focus more on the chaos and destruction and monologuing than on the actual danger. That’s not to say the stakes didn’t feel high, but rather to say that this didn’t feel like an action sequence where you don’t know what’s going to happen next. The point was to watch the court fall and think about why it fell, not to worry about if Marissa would live.  

Diane and Kurt are woken up by sirens and loud noises. The cops arrive and are shocked to find professionally dressed white people in a basement cell. They let Diane and Kurt out with compassion, but scream, “don’t you fucking move” to the people on the floor.

“It’s okay, they didn’t do anything,” Diane says. This is, as I theorized earlier, probably why Diane just sits there until her punishment blows over instead of escalating things.  

If the cops weren’t there to free Diane, why were they there? Why, because they like David Cord and David Cord has gotten Chicago PD officers to protect Wackner’s IP.  

If I had to say one thing in favor of Vinetta being the originator of the community court idea, it would be that it’s SUCH a gut punch to watch Diane and Kurt walk away from their bizarre little adventure as Vinetta gets arrested in the background, and it hits ten times as hard if Vinetta’s only being charged because some white guy is claiming IP that’s actually hers.

(I think Vinetta is probably, at this point, actually being arrested for imprisoning people illegally, but, still.)

“Pfft. Some judge,” one of the cops who adores Wackner says of Vinetta. Racist much?  

Marissa and Wackner emerge from the backroom. “I think I better get back to work,” she says, meaning her RL job. "Me too,” Wackner says, grabbing a Copy Coop apron. He’s an employee of ten years.  

I don’t think this lands as well as it’s meant to. I think the point is supposed to be that Wackner’s just some guy—not a billionaire, not an academic, not a judge, not a lawyer—with an idea. But it’s a little too neat. And it doesn’t explain how Wackner financed his court initially, nor does it explain why he has basically unlimited access to Copy Coop space and resources. I’d buy it if he were the OWNER of Copy Coop, but I have so many questions about him being an employee.  

Diane tells Liz she’s actually going on vacation this time, and they laugh about how Kurt bonded with STRL.

“I want you and Allegra to be name partners. I’ll be an equity partner,” Diane says. “Why?” Liz asks. “Five years ago, when I hit rock bottom, this firm took me in. So I don’t like the idea of splitting this firm in two. And I can’t lead if no one will follow.” “And your clients?” “We’ll manage them together.” YES! I love this. I don’t love it because I necessarily think it had to go this way, but because it’s so refreshing to see Diane say that she actually is willing to take a step back because she cares about the firm and the people there more than she cares about being a name partner. This isn’t something we usually see. When we hear “this firm took x in” it’s usually being said incredulously against someone who’s decided to leave and steal clients (cough, Hitting the Fan, cough).  

It’s been pretty clear for most of this arc that Diane and Liz like working together and they like their firm, but that no one (other than Diane, I guess) is willing to let RL lose its status as a black firm, and that the employees and equity partners weren’t going to be satisfied until Diane stepped down. Diane really had three options: Stay and piss everyone off and claim the whole firm for herself, quit and go somewhere else and totally abandon the good working dynamic she had, or step down and put her money where her mouth is.  

Also yeah the clients were never actually going to be an issue! They were only an issue because Diane intentionally went about informing them she was stepping down in a way she knew would make them worry!  

“I think I need to prove myself,” Diane says. I’m not sure that’s the key issue or that she can ever prove herself fully, but we’ll worry about that next year.

“I missed you,” Liz says. “I’m here,” Diane replies. “I know. Thank you,” Liz says.  

Diane decides she’s going to move downstairs so Allegra can have her office. I think there’s another office on this floor, since she, Adrian and Liz all had offices. This feels a little bit like Diane’s in love with the idea of making things difficult for herself and maybe hasn’t fully grasped the point, but, you know, I’ll take it.  

Diane tells Kurt her decision and he asks if it was the right thing to do. She says she doesn’t know—but she says it with a smile. Kurt notes he’s going hunting next month with the STRL folks and will put in a good word for her. Ah, yes, because STRL still controls all of this and all of this is moot! Thanks for the reminder Kurt! Diane says she wants in on the hunting trip. Of course.  

And the elevator doors close. Remember how closing elevator doors was a motif earlier this season??? It’s back!

Then we get a little coda with Wackner Rules airing a new episode that’s just violence and destruction. This sequence seems to straddle the line between being there for thematic reasons for the viewers and there to show what happened in the show’s universe, but I think it’s main purpose is theme, so I will not go on a full rant questioning why Del would want to air this.

A white blonde lady in an apron watches the destruction of Wackner Rules. She looks concerned. “That was violet,” she says with dismay. And then we see she’s holding a guy in a jail cell in her kitchen.  

And then we see other courts, as America the Beautiful plays. One’s in a garage debating kicking someone out of the neighborhood; another is across the street about the same case. There’s one in Oregon about secession. There’s one among Tiki Torch Nazis deciding only white people can own property. There’s (inexplicably) one about pronouns. There’s one with arm wrestling, one that happens while sky diving, and a bunch of others. It’s pretty ridiculous, and not necessarily in a good way. It feels at once like the natural extension of the Wackner Rules show and like an over the top parody you’d see on another show. Tiki Torch Nazis screaming “only white people can own property!” is the opposite of subtle writing. Tonally, this sequence feels more like the zany humor of Desperate Housewives or the insanity of BrainDead than anything TGF has done before (and TGF’s been plenty surreal), and it doesn’t quite work for me. It feels like it is trying to prove a point in the corniest, most on the nose way possible. It almost feels like it’s parodying its own plotlines.  

On my first watch, this ending for Wackner left me stumped. I knew the writers were making an argument against individualism (Wackner’s speech + the repeated references to The Apprentice) and cults of personality. But I couldn’t figure out a real life analogue to Wackner’s court, and since this ending was so obviously trying to be About Something, that bugged me. Sure, that last sequence could be an argument against people making community courts, but WERE people making community courts? I didn’t see the urgency.

And then I talked to @mimeparadox. And as soon as he said that it was about factions and people playing by their own sets of rules beyond the justice system, it clicked. I’d been looking for Wackner’s plot to be a commentary on the legal system. It is much broader than that. It’s a commentary on the weakening of democratic systems (the Big Lie, etc.), more broadly, and Wackner and his common-sense approach are just a way to get liberal viewers to go along for the ride.  

Now that I understand the point, or what I think is the point, I like this conclusion. Circumventing the system leads to chaos; that’s why we have institutions and bureaucracy, and I think the show is arguing that these institutions should still be respected despite their flaws. The many theses of this episode all come together to make this point (though the reality TV stuff is a little more tenuous and I'm a little shocked we got through all of this without any commentary on social media?): If we stop having a shared belief in institutions and instead follow individual leaders (whom we may learn about through reality TV), the rules will stop mattering and we’ll end up with a fractured country and widespread violence.  

But, and maybe this is just about me being upset I missed both the obvious 1/6 parallels AND the point of the arc the first time through this episode (my defensive side feels the need to also note I first watched this episode at like 5 am when I was barely awake), I don’t know that I actually think this episode does a great job of driving its point home. There are SO many moving pieces to the Wackner plot and SO many references. There are so many threads we never return to from earlier in the season, and there’s so much that strains credulity (like Wackner taking Dr. Goat seriously for more than a split second). It’s pretty clear what the themes are—even though I’m saying I missed the point my first time through, I've hit on all these themes separately in past recaps and posts—but, I dunno, something about this episode just feels scattered. Maybe it’s all the moving pieces, maybe it’s all the moments where it sounds like the characters are voicing related ideas that don’t quite snap together to form one coherent picture, or maybe it’s that Wackner’s plot gets two endings (the actual ending + the coda) and it’s up to the viewer to put together how they relate.

I really don’t know. At the end of the day, I think there was a little too much going on with Wackner and that the writers needed to use the episodes between the private prison reveal and the finale to narrow—not broaden—the scope of what they were trying to do with Wackner. But I also think that what they were doing with Wackner was really, really smart and original. I don’t think I can overstate how impressed I am that the writers took an idea that sounded, frankly, awful when I first heard about it and turned it into something captivating and insightful that I was happy to spend nine weeks watching.  

Overall, a few bad episodes aside, I thought season five was the strongest season of TGF yet. I haven’t seen this show be so focused in... well, maybe ever. Having two overarching plots that received consistent development and felt like they were happening in the same universe at the same time REALLY helps make season five feel like a coherent whole, and I can’t wait to rewatch it.  

[an-dromedia]

if regulus black was the potions professor instead of snape

some of my headcanons if regulus was the potions professor instead of snape because i can't sleep. please give credit and tag me if you use/take inspiration from these. i’d like so see what you create :)

after coming back from the cave, he decided to talk to dumbledore for help

dumbledore offers regulus the position as a spy and the potions position when it becomes available

surprise. it became available

everyone was a bit doubtful when regulus first started working there

even though he was also head of house for slytherin, the younger slytherins were doubtful

after his first year, the students and staff start to like him

he’s gentle and kind while also being strict and determined 

every year, when first years get scared to go to potions because they know about the blacks and how the entire family is crazy and dark, the older years help them

the students learn that he isn't like his family at all and he easily becomes one of their favorite professors 

his door is always open for students to ask questions

students start to come to him when they’re having problems with their homework

after a while, students come just to read in silence or to play a game of chess and his room becomes a comfortable place to hang out and regulus accepts it

when students get assigned detention from regulus, they always end up sitting in the room to work on their homework, because even if they did something bad, regulus doesn’t feel right taking away their time

whenever he’s on night patrol and finds a student alone because they can't sleep, he sits next to them by a window and points out different constellations and stories about the stars until they fall asleep and he takes them to their common room, lays them on the couch with a blanket

sooner or later, one student comes in when they don't want to go home because of their parents or guardians and regulus works out an agreement with dumbledore 

any student that doesn't feel safe at home will stay with regulus at grimmauld place under the guise of summer school

when the agreement first becomes knowledge to students, only three students come up to him asking if they could join him

the next year, he brings home nine students

regulus is just as nice at home as he is at school

he never forces students to do anything, just occasionally points them in the right direction

he always has food out for them and never denies them their human rights like food, a bed, the bathroom, clothes, etc.

when 1991 comes around, he notices his brothers godson and his cousins son

he can tell harry was or is being abused by the state of his clothes on the weekends, his lack of hunger and his smaller form than the other kids

so, like he does every year, he announces in his classes his home away from home for kids who don't feel safe at home (which he later names GHOUL, grimmaulds home for unsafe learners)

at the end of the year, young harry potter comes up to him and asks if he can join ghoul. regulus, of course, lets him.

he helps harry get through his past abuse, like he does with the other students there

he tells harry stories about his family. he tells harry that he has a godfather who is in azkaban and is the reason his parents are dead

that summer, he has harry, adrian pucey, a slytherin who would be going into his fourth year, kenneth towler, a gryffindor also going into his fourth year, katie bell, a gryffindor going into her third year, elora dunn, a coming fifth year in hufflepuff and nicholas grimmett, a ravenclaw going into his sixth year at his home

when harry comes to him saying he can hear someone speaking in the walls, regulus doesn't know what to tell him, besides that he should come to him if he hears it again and what it says. spoiler: harry comes back again

when the dueling/parseltongue incident happened, regulus spent around twenty minutes telling harry it was okay, and that parsel was a trait in the potter family that most forgot about

regulus is extremely worried when harry goes to the chamber of secrets

when he comes back up, regulus gives him the biggest hug when harry starts crying about how voldemort was ruining his life

that year, the same six students come home with him, plus amelie ellis and her twin brother milo ellis, coming second years in ravenclaw and hufflepuff respectively

sirius black escapes azkaban. students immediately look at him when its announced by dumbledore at the opening feast

remus lupin watches him warily the first couple days. after that, they become friends of sorts

when his dear brother shows up, regulus feels guilty for not pushing for sirius to get his trial

regulus, having a brain and all, ties peter pettigrew up and turns him into the ministry

after that, sirius joins the kids at grimmauld after being declared a free man and cleared by mindhealers

ghoul now extended to younger students now that sirius was home all the time. the ellis twins bring their younger sister, freya. adrian pucey brings his baby brother elijah. kenneth towlers brings his sister renee.

nicholas grimmett leaves the house now that he graduated, but promises to write. regulus reminds him that ghoul was open for him whenever he’d like.

harry potter’s name gets called out of the goblet of fire. regulus blacks heart sinks. he can tell that his other ghoul students hearts also sink. they had become family and he can't let family get hurt

he does everything he can to get harry not to compete, but to no avail

regulus helps harry as much as he can

the yule ball comes around and regulus encourages harry to ask who he wanted to ask. harry says he can't. he ends up asking luna lovegood, a third year ravenclaw who harry had become close to during a late night excursion (regulus had caught harry telling luna about the stars when she couldn't sleep like regulus does to him)

the end of the tournament comes quickly and harry comes with cedric diggorys body

regulus consoles harry while telling him it wasn't his fault

when harry came to regulus the next year after detention with umbridge, regulus has a fit

if the ministry was allowing this, they were in dire need of a new minister. regulus goes to the goblins instead

the goblins arrest umbridge for possessing illegal goblin property.

regulus ends up doubling positions and teaches potions and dada (its hard, but the students know he's trying his best and help him wherever they can)

draco malfoy tells regulus that his father was joining a raid to find the prophecy and that voldemort was planning to send harry a fake vision of sirius black being held by death eaters. regulus tells harry and harry ignores it when it happens

no one goes to the department of mysteries besides death eaters

draco malfoy comes to him again at the end of the year and tells him that his father wants him to take the dark mark. if his father can't find him, theres no dark mark. draco joins ghoul. draco isn't the only student that ends up joining them after their parents told them they were going to get the dark mark over the summer

the next dada teacher isn't terrible, but also not excellent like remus lupin was

dumbledore tries to get harry to go find a horcurx with him but regulus informs him that he already found that horcrux and it was destroyed by the goblins

when harry tells regulus and sirius that he and hermione and ron have to go look for horcruxes, the brothers are devastated. it was a dangerous mission. regulus gives harry a two-way journal in which harry and regulus could write to each other. harry gives him the longest hug before he leaves

when voldemort calls all of his followers on the day of may 2nd, regulus ignores the call. he was in excruciating pain but poppy casts a numbing spell on his arm. it helps, but he can still feel the pain

when regulus walked into the great hall for the first time since chaos broke, he was heartbroken to see the dead bodies. he could see a circle of his ghoul students so he walked over to them, only to with he didn't. kenneth towler laid dead. amelie ellis was sobbing uncontrollably, saying he was dead because of her. once he calmed her down, she explained though broken sobs that he had jumped in front of an AK for her. the poor boy wasn't even a student anymore. he only came back to fight. the boy was well on his way to a potions mastery because regulus had helped him develop his love for the subject. regulus comforted all of his children while he could

regulus cried when harry told him he was going to the forest to meet dumbledore

when hagrid comes back carrying harrys limp body, it takes everything regulus has got to not drop to the ground sobbing. his children were next to him and he needed to protect them, no matter what it took.

when harry jumped out of hagrid’s arms, regulus was so relieved. draco jumped out and gave harry his wand.

when it was all said and done, none of his other children died. regulus had jumped in front of crucios, hexes, jinxes, curses, all to make sure none of his children were hurt

when regulus and his children returned back home, they were greeted by sirius and the younger children who's siblings had brought them there or just any of the younger hogwarts students who hadn't wanted to fight, regulus had sent them here.

regulus sat with each one of his kids to talk about what they went through and if they needed help.

in an empty journal, he started to kept track of all of his students. starting with his first student, lucas mitchell, the ravenclaw who started it all to his most recent, stella chapman a young slytherin. he also kept track of what his graduated students were up to like lucas mitchell who was studying to become a healer. the journal was available to everyone who wanted to see it. as of may 2nd, 1998, he had had a total of 56 students that call(ed) grimmauld their home. 

over the summer, regulus invited all of his current and graduated ghoul students to a party of sorts. before dinner, regulus announced the passing of kenneth towlers to those who didn't know. he said that he knew it was hard for them, the ghoul students had grown to be brothers and sisters, but they would always be there for each other and that ghouls door were always open to them

harrys year had the option to come back to finish their newts. harry chose to go back, along with most of his year. their classes were merged with the current seventh years as they were studying the same material

during the first month of the year, regulus learned who harry had wanted to ask to the yule ball but couldn't. draco malfoy. harry came up to him all nervous and anxious and told him he was gay and dating draco. regulus had smiled and congratulated him. he told him he was so proud of him for telling him. harry smiled and hugged him, all while thanking him for accepting him

when harry graduated, him and his ghoul students (ghoulies as they now called themselves) cheered the loudest.

harry came up to him after and told him he was going to become a defense against the dark arts professor now that the curse was lifted and that he wanted to help out with ghoul. regulus told him he would always be welcome to help the ghoulies. 

draco then came up and asked to be his apprentice because he wanted to be a potions master like regulus. normally, future potions masters didn't have to have an apprenticeship, but draco said he wanted to because he wanted to help with ghoul while working. regulus accepted him as his apprentice

when the years passed, regulus was named headmaster once dumbledore and mcgonagall left and draco was named potions professor and head of slytherin house. now they had professor black, the potions teacher and headmaster black. draco had taken on his mothers maiden name when his father was condemned to azkaban (but he was going to change it to potter when he and harry got married)

regulus retired when he was 97, dedicating his time to ghoul. neville longbottom took up the place of headmaster and harry the place of head of gryffindor

ghoul was officially known throughout the wizarding world and regulus went down in wizarding history to have had the first ever home for unsafe wizarding children. it was still the only house in wizarding england

when regulus finally passed away, he saw james and lily potter who thanked him for taking care of their little boy and being a father to him. after that, he saw kenneth towlers and elora dunn who had died in the middle of an explosion in 2016 during one of her auror missions. they both thanked him profusely.

many, many, many years passed and regulus finally saw harry again. harry had had a baby boy with draco who they named scorpius regulus potter. they had also had a girl, lily narcissa potter. a year later, regulus saw draco again.

ghoul was still running after regulus and sirius’ passing. first by the potters, then renee towlers, then by the potter siblings, scorpius and lily who were the current heads of ghoul. teddy lupin, the current hogwarts headmaster after neville longbottom, lets them come in on the first day of school and everyday for the last week of school to remind them that ghoul was there for them. for when scorpius or lily weren't around, there was a sheet in the great hall, the library, the room of requirement and each of the common rooms for the students if they chose to go to ghoul.

and not once did severus snape ever do something as caring for the students as regulus black would've done

let me know if you want a whole fic on this :)

ao3: asgardixn | wattpad: asgradixn

update: this is now being turned into a fic on ao3 and wattpad.

[fiction-in-my-blood]

Switching Sides: Part 10 (HLITF)

if anyone possibly wants to get on a tag list I’d be happy to make one

👉 @theshove 👈

If you wanna catch up, Part 9 is right here! Happy reading :)

Premise: Growing up in a life of crime in a Japanese mafia, Atsuko Motomori has seen enough injustice to last her a lifetime. To try and give back to the universe her family has taken so much from, she dreams of being a detective from a young age. Her twin, sharing her disgust for her father and many uncles, just wants an ordinary life away from the crime, paing and suffering. Instead, she wants to be in the spotlight with the soft notes she makes with her cello. In their escape of 2015, on their coming of age birthday, they must split ways, never to be together ever again. If one was found, they didn’t want the other dragged down with them. Atsuko, having changed her name and appearance as best she can without a scalpel, sets off to start her life of car chases and arrests.

Four years in a seemingly dead-end police station in the middle of nowhere, being passed over time after time for promotion, Atsuko finally gets a shot at her dream, having been sent to an academy for the best candidates in the country by her boss who had always kept an eye out for her. After discovering her boss may have made her bite off more than she could chew, Atsuko must become the slave of a dominating instructor!? Who so just happens to be the captain of the most famous police unit in Japan? Not to mention a total knockout! Will Atsuko finally achieve her dream? Or will her new instructor put her through the wringer?

Warnings: Language, Reference to sexual activity, Forceful nature.

~~~~~~

Several weeks had passed since I'd retaken my birth name. By then, I had dyed my hair a greyish white. Flashy, I know, but I needed something completely different from the black it was before so that I could be less recognisable. I managed to get a job at a bar as an indoor bouncer. It basically means I acted as a club-goer, surveying the floor for anything illegal going on, and escorted people out when I did catch something. The club was owned by a friend of Kanto's and he pretty much got me the job. I also worked mornings at a rock-climbing centre as an instructor of sorts. Having never really done it before, I mainly just watched over climbers and could go up to talk first-timers down if they got too scared. 

The collective jobs helped me keep up with my share of the rent, even though Juna didn't want me to pay it. Although, I would have been mortified if I stayed at my sister's apartment for free when she was starting to invest in her baby furniture. 

Because I worked most nights and most mornings, I mainly slept for a few hours in the afternoon. It was definitely a culture shock from the strict regiment the academy had us on that made us get up early in the morning and worked us into the night. Luckily, I had been able to keep up my own daily exercise.

Today was the day I decided to try and get the evidence of my father's crimes to someone in the Public Safety Division. My runs took me to the station where I tried to gather someone's daily lunchtime routine. It seemed, being the youngest, Shinonome was sent out to get coffee for the team. Which, honestly, surprised me. ‘I never expected him to serve anyone, but I guess if you're technically the rookie...’

"Juna! I'm leaving now!" I shouted from the entrance, slipping on my trainers. Soon, I heard my twin waddling toward me and I looked up. 

"Why do you always leave me alone in the afternoon?" Her eyes were full of tears due to the severe mood swings she'd been getting lately. She had gotten... pretty big over the last few weeks, which did make me nervous. If she had twins, I wasn’t sure if I would be able to keep living there. 

"I won't be gone long, you don't have to worry." I stepped forward with a calm smile, hugging her as my irritation skyrocketed. It felt like all she had been doing lately was cry. Kanto was at his orchestra practice in the afternoons, so I would be leaving her in her lonesome. 

"I'm handing in the evidence today. Wish me luck!" I pulled back, holding her shoulders and rubbing them to try and put her at ease. She pouted but said the words to bid me luck and I left, running in the direction of the Police Station. 

With my baseball cap on, too cloudy to be wearing sunglasses inconspicuously, I jogged along with the thick envelope rattling in my jacket pocket. It was good that I didn't have any fingerprints, it made sliding something into a detective's pocket much easier, seeing as I didn't need to worry about being identified by prints. 

Taking this time to recollect on the past month I'd been living my new life with my sister and her boyfriend, a small sigh escaped my mouth; and it wasn’t because of the panting caused by my exercise. Luckily, they didn't make me feel like a third wheel- I felt like one of the family- but my life was so boring compared to what it once was. At least the first time I started my life over, I had the excitement of living a normal life for the first time. 

However, like the novelty had worn off, I found my current life... dull. I spent my nights watching couples drunkenly make out, catching shady drug deals in the club bathroom, and stopping creeps from taking girls home without their consent. Sure, it was the same petty crimes I had been dealing with before the academy, but since I was invited to play with the big guys, I grew a taste for debunking major organisations and corrupt politicians. It felt like I was really making a difference in the world when I worked with Kaga. 

That was another thing I couldn't stop thinking about. I missed the constant complaining of my intelligence and how easy I was able to bounce back from his insults. I felt like we left things sour after I had ruined their case and essentially let Takada run free for a little longer than he should have. Because I had caused so much trouble for him in the end, I wondered if he had actually felt anything when he found out I didn't come out of that hotel. Did he care that I was dead? Was he sad? Regretful? I knew that when I believed he had died, I was heartbroken. But, maybe that was the respect I felt towards such a competent detective, and not for any underlying emotions I felt to the man I had grown to somewhat understand?

Turning the corner to the busy city street, I peered up at the massive building across the road. It was cloudy: autumn turning to winter, some stores even had Christmas decorations, and a slightly chilled breeze blew through the air. Lots of people wore masks to shield their faces from the city air and the cold that tried to nip at their nose. 

Taking a quick deep breath to calm my racing heart, I continued to cross the street, waiting near the Station's entrance for the youngest detective to ever make it into the Public Safety Division. 

Minutes passed and I worried today might be one of the days Shinonome was at the academy or out on a mission. I looked down at my watch as the seconds ticked by, hoping he would emerge soon. 

When I looked up again, I froze at what I saw. Materialising from the doors of the Police Department was Captain Hyogo Kaga. 

Quickly, I diverted my gaze, worried he would be able to sense my surprise. Hopefully, the rim of my cap would block my most noticeable features. 

‘Snap out of it, Katsumi. You don't need to be worrying about that now.’ I sighed to myself, shaking my nerves out of my head and stepping forward to intercept the detective as he walked in my direction. 

"'Cuse me," I muttered as I bumped into him, slipping the thick beige letter out of my pocket and into his suit one. I kept my gaze down and quickly moved on, not wanting to give him a chance to shout at me. 

Escaping around the corner of the building, I took in a deep breath that I didn't realise I was holding in. ‘I did it. It's all in their hands now.’

Trying to calm my racing heart, I allowed myself to take a peek around the corner to see if he had noticed what I had delivered to him. In the middle of the pathway, Detective Kaga looked at the object in his hand, having taken it out of his inner pocket. I cringed slightly; I had hoped to have a little more time to get away before he realised. 

‘At least he has it. Hopefully, he'll take it seriously.’ Biting the tip of my thumb, I continued down the alleyway between the station and the next building, disappearing before Kaga could think to follow me. 

~~~~~~

That night, I'm sitting at the bar of the club I worked at, a glass of water in my hand as I let my gaze fall around the room. 

"Tonight seems pretty quiet. You haven't moved from that seat since you got here." The bartender, who I had grown to befriend, laughed from across the counter. 

"Noburu, don't say that word! Do you know how unlucky that is?" I instantly freaked out, standing up on the foot rest of the minimalist stool to get my urgent point across. 

"What word..? Quiet?" He leaned in to whisper it to me and I hastily covered his mouth. 

"You'll jinx me!" I frowned, not wanting to have to get up much tonight. It being the middle of the week, the room was pretty calm, but I wasn't going to ignore superstition. 

"You're so cute when you pout, Katsumi." Once I had uncovered the man's mouth, he pressed a finger into my cheek and I scowled at him. Even though my white hair was in pigtails, something Juna had been obsessing over at the time, I didn't appreciate that compliment. 

"I'm a grown woman!" I narrowed my eyes at him before turning back to the room behind me.

~~~~~~

Later on in the evening, the door to the club opened again and I glanced at the new entrants... 

‘This can't be happening.’ My mouth opened agape when I saw three of the special instructor's enter the club in suits like they had just come from the office. 

"I told you you would jinx me," I muttered under my breath, blaming my friend for the detectives being here. Luckily, he was at the other end of the bar taking orders from a group of bachelorette party girls. 

‘Okay, hopefully, they won't recognise me as the name I came up with? What was it again?’ I quizzed my memory, trying to think back to a month ago. 

Trying to calm my racing heart by taking a long, deep breath, my gaze fell to the other end of the bar. I noticed a man, standing suspiciously close to one of the party-goers. His back was to me, but I could see his hand reach for one of the women's drinks and drop something into it when he thought no one was looking. I sighed, hopping off my stool and walking up to him before he could move away from the scene. 

"Please come with me, sir." I smiled so he wouldn't panic, but didn't ease the grip I had on his arm that was thicker than I could wrap around. 

"Sorry, I'm not looking for a hookup tonight." He smirked down at me and I felt myself gag slightly. 

"I need you to come with me, sir." I moved my other hand to the drink left on the counter and placed it on Noburu's side so someone didn't drink it while I was trying to deal with this creep. 

"I said no." He frowned, trying to yank his arm out of my grip. 

Quickly, I grabbed the back of his neck and slammed his face into the counter while holding his arm behind his back, taking him by surprise while the thudding noise drew minimal attention.

"I just watched you try and drug that girl. So, if you want me to call the cops, I dare you to fight back." I whispered into his ear. Luckily, the music was too distracting and loud for our customers to realise. It was only Noburu looking at us from the corner of his eye. I watched the predator's face turn worried and he shook his head. 

"Great, come with me then." I smiled, pulling him up by the neck, and guiding him towards the door. 

"Noburu, can you get that girl another drink? I'll pay." Not wanting to ruin their night, I called out to my friend as we walked through the door. My boss paid me to be as discreet as possible. I would get paid extra if I caught a crime before we needed to call the police.

~~~~~~

After throwing the man on the dirty street and warning him to never come back to this club, I reentered the room. 

"Another creep?" Noburu leaned over the counter to talk in a low tone. I nodded, retaking my seat and ordering another water. Although, it wasn’t like I had to pay for it.

"I don't see how it can be so easy to buy that stuff?" My bartending friend frowned, pouring my drink and placing it on a napkin. 

"Depends. Some stuff is prescription medicine. I think the ingredients for others can be easily bought and then made into drugs?" I thought back to when I found my father's organisation and all the illegal substances they were able to mass distribute. 

Suddenly, a man stood beside me at the bar, ordering drinks for three people. My eyes widened when I heard the voice, recognising it anywhere. We sat in silence while the bartender fixed his drinks. 

"That was a pretty smooth takedown. Looks like you've done it a few times." Suddenly, Lieutenant Ayumu Shinonome started conversing with me, leaning on the counter as he looked right in my eyes. I gulped my water, praying he hadn't noticed me and continued looking at the array of bottles on the back wall. 

"It's my job, so I get pretty good at it." Sounding a little more sarcastic than seemed polite, I questioned why I was being so rude. I would never have spoken to any of the instructors like this in the academy. 

‘Well... I guess I'm not in the academy anymore.’ I could feel myself becoming more depressed as I thought back to my old life, looking down at the contents of my glass. 

"What do you do for a living?" Not sensing my negative emotions, the detective kept talking. Well, he probably did, but didn’t care.

"I'm a bouncer. Like a bar cop, am I right?" I laughed self-depressingly as I took another sip of my non-alcoholic drink. I didn't drink much, I didn't like it and I didn't have time for it, but even this felt depressing, drinking water when everyone else was getting off their heads drunk. "Nothing to your cases, though, I'm sure."

"How do you..?" 

"There's a type." I suddenly cut him off bluntly, embarrassed I had started a conversation when I was meant to be under the radar. 

‘You're not meant to know who he is, Katsu. Don't get comfortable just because you know this place.’ Clutching the glass with both hands now, I ended the conversation with a dismissive sigh, not wanting him to have an excuse to keep talking to me when Noburu finished making his drinks. 

Which seemed to be taking much longer than he usually did. I looked down the length of the counter to find the bachelorette party had called him away again. As I peered, Ayumu being in that direction, I tried to look down at his body as inconspicuously as possible. I wanted to know if he was wearing a badge. Which he wasn't.

‘Are they on a case? This is a nice neighbourhood, there isn't a lot of major crime here. Unless they've set up a meeting?’ My brows furrowed as I thought of a reason for them to be here. The club itself wasn't anywhere near the station or the academy, I made sure of it when I took the job. 

"Sorry about that, man..." Noburu came running back, but led off when he realised the intensity between us. I‘m sure it was either because I dismissed him as a woman or he distrusted me. When Shinonome asked for the drinks again, the silence was almost suffocating. I was pulled out of my thoughts when he finally left and turned back to the room to do a quick sweep of anyone suspicious. 

"Hey, Noburu. How long has that guy been here for?" Standing on the foot stand of my stool again, I leant over the counter to keep our conversation private. Following where I had gestured with my head, Noburu found the suspicious man I had been watching for most of the night. He had been here since opening, circling the floor like he was looking for a target. He seemed a little on-edge to me, but I wanted to make sure before I acted on anything. Truthfully, I just wanted to get away from talking about the confrontation he had just walked into. I knew he would ask, that's how Noburu was. Pried because he cared.

"Anyone wearing a hat indoors is suspicious." The bartender laughed as he started shining some glasses. "Make a move on him. If he's here for anything else, he'll turn you down." Resting on his crossed arms in front of me, he got very close to my face as we talked. I was a little stunned by the sudden close proximity. 

Working at a bar, Noburu was good at flirting with our female customers to keep them drinking. He was good looking and funny. It made for an easy friendship to bloom. But, having his face so close to mine, I blushed and quickly leaned back. 

"I-I'll go do that then," Noburu smirked at my fluster, resting his chin on his hand as I moved towards the dance floor.

Working somewhat undercover, I was wearing a rather short, tight dress, as asked by my boss as a form of uniform. At first, it was embarrassing to wear something that cupped my body so much, but now I was somewhat comfortable with it. I'm just glad I had a good physique. 

Also, since working here, I had to get good at sweet-talking people. Mostly drunks that were more than happy to follow anyone, but I had my fair share of flirty conversations to try and get people out of the club. Fortunately, I was a fast learner.

Approaching the man with the hat, I smiled. 

"Hey, you wanna dance with me?" I put my hand on his chest and grabbed his hand with my other, trying to get him to feel like he couldn't say no. 

"I-I'm meeting someone." I peered up at his young face, previously hidden by the brim of his cap, and noticed a slight blush on his cheeks. 

"Aw, come on! I've been watching you all evening and you haven't talked to anyone! It doesn't have to be a long dance?" I pulled on his hand to bring him to the dance floor. Maybe he was just waiting for a girl, which would explain his hesitance. But... Something was off about him, and it wasn't just the hat. 

Luckily, he followed me and we started moving our bodies close together. 

"So, are you gonna tell me your name?" I shout near his ear due to the volume of the music. He bit his lip but told me anyway. 

"Are you the one I'm meant to meet?" Suddenly, he put his hands on my hips, whispering in my ear. As his gaze wasn't on me, I let my eyes slightly widen.

‘Is this the guy they're meeting?’

"Did a psychic tell you to meet a girl here tonight?" I laughed back, playing dumb to see if he freaked out. He ripped his hands from my body, face flushed as he stared at me. 

"I don't mind the pickup line, but you don't have to be so embarrassed." Knowing he was going to scurry off out of embarrassment or fear of not meeting the person he was here to see, I tried to lighten the atmosphere. Panicking, he quickly excused himself and I watched him leave the club completely. Frowning my brows, I returned to the bar, reporting to Noburu what I had just seen.

~~~~~~

At the end of the night, which was the morning, I'm helping Noburu clean up the bar.

"Hey, are you doing alright? You seemed kind of on edge when that guy ordered. The one that stood next to you?" Noburu called from the other side of the room as I wiped down a table. I froze for a moment, not realising I had been that obviously affronted, and thought about how to respond. 

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine! It's just not usually the guys that come up to me." I laughed off my unease by making a self-deprecating joke and returned to the bar, where my handbag laid. 

"I can't imagine that's true. Look at you." He smirked down at my body and I tried my hardest to hide my blush. 

"Oh, would you look at the time! I've gotta get going." I grabbed my bag as he approached me, getting nervous about the teasing that I knew was to come. He would usually offer a flirty comment as we cleaned up together, it was probably the only way he could talk to women. I should have been used to it by that point, but I still got flustered. 

As he followed me out of the building, I waved my goodbye. 

"Hold on!" He called back after locking the doors. I turned around to find him scrambling to get the keys in his pocket and I laughed at how eager he was. "How about we meet up outside of work sometime? I can buy you breakfast?" His request threw me off a little, I wasn't used to making friends this quickly, or being asked out to eat with a dude.

"I-I have a job I have to get to in the morning. I'm always free for lunch though!" At the chance of having someone to hang out with other than third-wheeling my sister, I smiled brightly. He chuckled at my reaction. 

"Great. Can I pick you up today?" He put his hand on the back of his neck as he asked. He almost seemed... nervous? 

"S-Sure. I would like that." I also grew shy as our conversation grew to a close. 

Suddenly, he moved towards me and planted a kiss on my cheek. 

"You should probably get going." He raised a teasing eyebrow at my childish, extremely bashful reaction and I jumped to attention. 

"R-Right! I'll see you later! I'll text you the address!" Having gotten his number in the first few days I started working at the club, I ran in the opposite direction of the club and towards the rock climbing establishment I worked at in the mornings. I was so excited, I didn't notice the car full of men parked across the road from us. 

~~~~~~

My shift was short, thanks to my lightened heart and the busy work of teaching people how to put on their harnesses. I didn't have to actually climb much, thankfully, because I wasn't so fond of getting sweaty before my... meeting?

As I changed out of my gym wear, a female coworker announced that my sister was at the front desk. 

‘Oh, she did not come for lunch!’ I cried to myself, annoyed I would probably have to pass on my date for a pregnant woman. I changed quickly so that I could encourage her to leave before Noburu got here and was shocked by what I heard before I turned the corner to the reception. 

"How dare you talk of her that way?" My sister shrieked at the top of her lungs, rage making her voice sound rougher than usual.

"It's not my fault she made a moronic mistake," Kaga responded spitefully. Juna was screaming at my ex-instructor. 

"She saved your life and that's how you treat her? You should be ashamed to call yourself a detective!" I wouldn't have been surprised if Juna started attacking the man. Soon I heard Soma trying to calm her down, but it didn't help much. 

"Oh, Katsumi! These men are here to see you." The receptionist who had witnessed the whole affair spotted me hiding behind the wall and hurriedly encouraged me over and I sneered when she made me apparent. The memory of biting Shinonome's head off floated through my mind and I prayed he didn't tell the two detectives that hadn't been in the club last night.

I sighed and walked around to see my sister standing in front of two of my old instructors. Soma's eyes went wide as his gaze passed between me and my sister. I bit my lip, wondering why they were standing in front of me in that moment, hoping they didn't approach Juna like they had met. Because, technically, they had. Well, they've met the woman that held her legal name, Mikara Harada- which wasn't Kento's last name so I didn't know why he insisted on acting like we were married. I wasn't even sure if she knew their faces or names. 

"Can I help you, gentleman?" Trying to act unaware, I approached them, letting my gaze drop to see if they had their badges on. This time, the Public Safety Detectives did. 

"We'd like to take you in for questioning," Kaga explained sharply and Juna was about to retort. ‘What are they thinking?’

"Mikara, go take a seat. You don't want to mess up the baby." I pat her shoulder and showed her a smile even though I was freaking out on the inside, ensuring she heard me use her fake name so she understood the situation. I gestured to the seating area and spotted an open newspaper with the story of the hotel bombing inside. From what I could assume, she was probably talking to the receptionist when the detectives arrived. Kaga probably mentioned how stupid I was to go in after him and Juna blew a fuze. 

Reluctantly, Juna went to sit down. 

"Please, come with us." Soma smiled, placing a hand on my back to guide me out of the building. 

"Why can't we do it here?" I panicked, not wanting to be brought in for questioning by PSD Detectives. There was no way they could track me from the security cameras at the station. Had I thwarted their investigation last night and now they were trying to get back at me? 

"Would you rather get arrested for impeding an investigation?" Kaga pulled out his handcuffs and my eyes grew wide. 

"No! No, thank you. I'll come with you." Allowing myself to be guided to their car, I threw my sister a look to say I would be fine- her face screwed up in worry and confusion. 

~~~~~~

After being placed into the back of their car and escorted to the questioning booths in the station, my hands were beyond clammy. My gaze darted around the silent room, having been left alone, probably just to intimidate me. They had taken my bag to search through it, which had my clothes from last night and my gym clothes. It didn't take me long to get impatient. 

Suddenly, the door burst open and I saw Kaga come in. I sat up, trying to look eager to answer any questions they had. I didn't want to seem suspicious. 

"Katsumi Hoshino." He sat across from me and I nodded, too afraid to stumble over my words. They had either seen the passport in my bag or had called my employer. Because I didn't have a driver's licence, my passport was the only way I could be identified. I brought it with me everywhere in case something happened to me. The last time I was stuck in an interrogation room with the Captain flashed through my mind and I tried not to blush. 

"I want to apologise for my friend. She can get a little too righteous sometimes." I flashed a smile, but he didn't seem impressed at all. It would be way too strange that we were triplets with the same face. I just hoped her makeup made it seem like there was some sort of differentiation in our features. Hopefully Kaga would buy that we were friends.

We sat in silence for a little longer. 

"Can I get some water?" Feeling my throat dry up, I tried to get him out of the room. He was making me so nervous with the way he was evaluating me with his gaze, I thought I was back in the academy. 

At my question, the captain got up and walked around the table. Before I could react, he pushed the back of my chair against the wall so the two front legs were in the air. I yelp in surprise as he closed the distance between us. I gulped, not wanting to say anything more in case it was incriminating. 

"You have something of mine." His finger hooked the neck of my shirt, but his gaze was too piercing to look away from. I showed him a confused expression to show I had no idea what he was talking about. 

"You work at that club. You met that man. And he gave you something that belongs to me." His voice was low so that only I could hear it. I forced myself not to sigh in relief when I discovered I wasn’t here for alternative reasons. 

"I-I thought you looked familiar." I smiled despite myself and he frowned. "U-Um, well, the guy left before I could find out why he was there. I thought he was suspicious, but he bolted the second I approached him." I explained in a whisper, worrying about the distance between us and my suspended chair. If he relaxed his grip in any way, I would go flying into his face. 

Suddenly, his other hand reached around my body and crawled up under my top to the clasp of my bra. 

"H-Hang on! What're you doing?" I panicked, my face flushing red as he fiddled with my clothes. When he had satisfied whatever need he had, he pulled his hand out again. There, he held a USB drive. My brows frowned in confusion and my hand darts to where he had pulled it out of. Had it really been there all this time?

"How much of a moron do you have to be to not notice this?" Kaga chuckled at the minuscule device in between his fingertips. It was one of those high-tech ones that are about the size of a fingernail. Honestly, it wasn’t a surprise to me that I didn't realise it at first because I had been so busy.

"I-Is that all you need from me?" I stuttered out, now with all of my chair's legs back on the ground. 

"What are you talking about? You assisted in stealing millions of dollars worth of online currency." Kaga turned to me, his face stern. My expression dropped and my face turned pale. 

"What? I had no idea what that was, or who that guy was! There's no way I can get arrested for being in the wrong place at the wrong time!" I roared at him, truly afraid he would arrest me for something like this. Who knows what'll be uncovered if I got put in jail? Juna would be alone. The amount of my father's guys that could get to me? I'd be dead in days.

The next thing I know, he's laughing. My enraged expression fell as to one of understanding. He was teasing me. I huffed, crossing my arms as I was embarrassed I had been duped. 

"We'll have to take your fingerprints to log the evidence. Then you can leave." His expression froze over again and I jumped up at the opportunity to leave. 

"Lead the way!" I cheered out, maybe too loud, and he scowled. I quickly apologised for being too excitable and followed him up to the Public Safety offices.

~~~~~~

Inside, I let my eyes wander around the room. It was exactly how I remembered it. Files placed carelessly on some desks and stacked neatly on others. Every man in there wore stern expressions, faces withered by stress and or smoking. Soon enough, I spotted a pile of paper on the desk not far from me. 

‘The pictures!’ I gasped as I spotted the gruesome images of murders and tortures I had taken during my youth spread all over each desk, replicas made for reference. I watched as some of the detectives analyse the faces within them, possibly trying to identify who they were from the refined images. 

"Miss, please put your fingers on here." Soma approached me with a pad of ink and a file with my birth name on it. 

"I... Um, I can't do that." I smiled anxiously as I rubbed the back of my neck. Soma furrowed his brows, asking me why. I could tell even he was a little annoyed with me. 

"I don't have fingerprints. They, er... I had a cooking incident a few years ago." I quickly thought up a lie, not wanting to disclose the true reason, for obvious reasons. Soma looked down at my hands, contemplating what to do. 

"We still need a record." Ayumu appeared out of nowhere beside me and I jumped, clamping my mouth shut so I didn't yell out at him as I sometimes had in the past. 

Surprisingly, the two seemed astonished when my fingerprints came up as big black dots. There were no clear lines or lighter edges. Just ten black splodges on the page. Ayumu asked me again how I had no fingerprints. 

"I was a kid. I... dropped my toy in a bat of hot oil and burned my hands." I shrugged while explaining some part of the truth. I was a child when it happened. I did dip my hands in boiling oil. Just not voluntarily.

Soon after, I was allowed to leave without many other questions. Before I was kicked out, I stole another glance at the evidence on the tables. My shoddy excuse for a reverse pickpocket had been successful and they had what they needed to arrest the men in my father's gang, whether he was still alive or not. A small smile crossed my face as I thought that. 

~~~~~~

As I emerged from the spinning doors, I spotted Juna and Kanto standing by a taxi. Running over, I quickly asked what they thought they were doing here. 

"We came to free you! With the way that guy spoke about you, I thought you'd never get out!" Juna frowned as she hugged me, her largening belly pushing into mine. 

"Luckily it was an entirely different matter. But, we should go. Who knows what their security cams can do." I looked up at the ball of black on the station walls, worried about what being here without a disguise could mean for my safety.

[whatshouldjustbeours]

Find Me (Jeller)

A/N: Hi, guys! So this is my contribution to the amazing @holidayblindspot. 

Set somewhere on season 2 after episode 2x13 and Jane is not serious with Oliver yet or it's over between them or let's just ignore his existence. Ok? Hahahaha. Well, enjoy!

He spent the whole Christmas Eve dinner thinking about her. 

The tattoo database had been mercifully silent that day, allowing them to stay at the NYO and not in the field getting shot at. By the end of their shift, the whole team was in Patterson’s lab, sharing a drink and their plans for the holiday.

Kurt watched as Jane tried to hide her pain, her… loneliness. She smiled when she knew she was supposed to but he still could read her like an open book. Even after everything that had happened, that hasn’t changed. He knew her and the conversation was making her uncomfortable and sad which probably meant she had no plans and no one to share the day with. 

“What about you, Jane?” - Patterson had asked her, suddenly putting her on the spotlight. 

She had fidgeted in place, looking from one member of the team to the other and just shrugged. 

“I’m going to share a meal with Roman and go home, I guess.” 

“You want to swing by my parent’s house later?” 

Jane had smiled - and this time Kurt noticed it was genuine and reached her eyes - always in awe of how precious and empathetic Patterson could be. 

“No, it’s okay, Patterson. I’m tired. I could use a few more hours of sleep. That is if nothing happens until tomorrow.”

“Oh, come on, Jane! Don’t jinx it!” - Zapata had said, laughing and saying her goodbyes. 

It bothered him that she only had a brother with no memories, a glass wall between them and a take out meal as her Christmas Eve but couldn’t bring himself to invite her to his plans. Even if things were better between them with each day that passed, and especially since after the night she brought him some beers and made him company, having dinner with him, Allie and Conor probably wasn’t high on her list. 

“You okay, Kurt? You seem a little distracted.” - Allie’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts and he found himself with only her on the table beside him, their empty plates gone. 

“I’m good.” - He smiled apologetically at her. Allie only rolled her eyes, letting him know she knew he was lying.

“How are things at the NYO?” - And it was his time to roll his eyes. She was digging, trying to figure out what was wrong with.

“Crazy. The usual.” - He really wasn’t in the mood to talk about the recent developments, like Roman or how Shepherd was observing him since his military academy days.

“How is Jane?”  - She asked unceremoniously, and Kurt raised an eyebrow at her.

“She is fine.” - He was even less inclined to discuss Jane.

“Good. I can’t imagine what she went through at the hands of the CIA. They are not the good guys all the time. But Jane is, even if she made mistakes. You know that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.” 

“So have you forgiven her?”

He had never truly stopped to think about it but the answer came easily on his mind: yes. He had. He had had time by now to go through all the things that occurred: her mistakes, her choices, his mistakes, his choices. They had both done so many terrible ones. He analyzed so many scenarios in his head of how things could be different if one of them had been more smart, more honest, more rational. Except there was absolutely nothing rational about their relationship from the beginning and they both had paid the price.

Well, she had paid it much more highly than him, he could admit it now.

“Yeah.” - He smiled a little, his answer without a trace of doubt.

“And have you told her that?” - Allie knew he hadn’t. They had been together for almost a year when she finally got tired of his walls and lack of communication.

“What are you doing, Allie?” 

“You arrested her. She spent three months at the hands of the CIA, being tortured day in and day out. She got herself free. You guys dragged her back to the FBI. Hated her. Distrusted her. Don’t you think she deserves to hear you say it?”

He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. He avoided reliving the night he had arrested her with everything he had in him. It was one of the biggest mistakes of his life. One he would never forgive himself for. One that would always bring him agony. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.” - Allie touched his arm. - “It’s none of my business.”

He opened his eyes, knew he wouldn’t be able to hide the emotions her words had caused but not particularly caring. He should have talked about it with someone a long time ago and Allie was one of his best friends.

“She deserves it. I’m just terrified she might say she can’t ever forgive me.”

To his surprise, Allie smiled, her hand squeezing his arm.

“Remember when I worked with you guys and she saved my life?” - He nodded, a shiver going through him. Things came fairly close to go to hell that day. - “When I told her I was pregnant with your child, she looked absolutely devastated.”

“Allie,”

“And when we did the gender reveal party, I observed her when she thought no one was looking and she still felt the same but was trying her damn best to hide it.” - She lifted a finger to prevent him from talking. - “That woman is in love with you. She never stopped loving you, even now, even after everything you did to each other, she still loves you. So yes, she will forgive you. She already has.”

It is possible to lie to someone and still love them very much.

“This pregnancy is making you mellow.” - He growled, not meaning it and she laughed. 

“Talk to her.”

“Why is this so important to you?”

“Because we go a long way, Kurt, and I’ve never seen you look at another woman the way you look at her. Not even me. You two have a connection. Everyone knows it. You know it. You are just too stubborn to do something about it.”

He shook his head, not quite believing this was how his night turned out to be: talking about Jane and confronting his feelings for her. Two things he tried his best not to do.

“I’m going to check on Conor and bring us more wine.” - She got up and he followed, ready to be somewhere else.

“I think I’m heading out, Allie. Thank you for dinner.” -  He hugged her tightly. - “Merry Christmas. Thank Conor for me.”

“Will do.” - She had a look that told him she knew exactly where he was going. - “Merry Christmas, Kurt.”

“See you.”

He let himself out, got out of the building and stopped on the sidewalk, letting the cold air clear his head. Did Jane love him? How could she, after everything he’d done? She cared about him, of that he was sure and that alone could explain a lot of her actions, couldn’t it? Allie was just flooded by hormones, making her a lot more sentimental and amplifying her romantic side.

Right?

He cursed under his breath, the image of Jane’s sad eyes haunting him for the thousandth time that night.

He started making his way to her safe house, telling himself it was just to keep her company and not to check if any of the things Allie said could be remotely true. No. It didn’t matter. She had moved on. He had moved on. They were friends. That was it.

xxxxx

She was on the couch, buried under the covers and reading a fiction book Patterson had recommended when a light knock on her door almost made her jump. It was past eleven o’clock on Christmas Eve so who the hell could it be?

When she opened the door, she was left speechless. Kurt Weller was the last person she expected to find out there.

“Hi.” - He said sheepishly, a small smile on his lips.

“Hey.” - She couldn’t help but smile at him too. He always had that effect on her. It was a great surprise and from his expression, he wasn’t there because the world was on the verge of ending.  

“Well, I bought these delicious beers and immediately thought of a thing a friend of mine once said.” - Her smile grew, remembering exactly what he was referring to. - “There's really no reason that we both should be sitting home alone when I’ve got these amazing Pennsylvania beer.”

“Well, this friend of yours is very wise.” - She replied, stepping aside and letting him in. 

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” - He said, nearly feeling guilty for intruding on her night like this. It was almost midnight after all. 

“No, no. It’s okay. I was just reading something.” - She gestured to the kitchen and he followed her there, depositing the six-pack on the counter, grabbing two, opening them and handing her one.

“Thanks.” - She took a sip, studying him. She had no idea what had led him to her safe house but her traitorous heart was telling her no matter the motive, he still made time to see her on a day like today and this knowledge warmed her from the inside out. 

Stop it, Jane. He moved on. He is with Nas. 

“So, how was your dinner with Roman?” - She focused on his words, trying to get out of the dangerous path that was letting Kurt Weller into her heart. Though part of her was certain he had never left it to begin with. But she wouldn’t, couldn’t think about it now.

He is with Nas.

Sometimes she thought if she repeated it enough, she could move on. Forget him. Forget what she felt for him.

“It was great. He might not remember much but he’s still my brother so it was special, even if we ate out of little cardboard boxes.” - She laughed and he couldn’t help but wonder the last time he heard her laughter. 

“I’m glad you could spend it with him, Jane.” - Roman was dangerous, unstable but he made her happy so his sentiment was genuine.

“Yeah, me too.” - Her last Christmas had been horrible. It was a few weeks after her torture session, courtesy of Thomas Carter; she was trying to push Kurt away and more confused than ever with Oscar’s snippets of information and mysterious missions. It was a time she often thought as the beginning of the end of the life she had started building since coming out of that bag and her relationships with the people in it, especially the one with the man in front of her right now.

She focused on him again, not wanting to dwell on that part of her last year. 

“So how was your dinner with Allie and her boyfriend?”

“It was great.” - And confusing, and revealing, and I really hate Allie right now. - “Conor is a nice guy. I’m glad she found him.” 

“I thought you’d be meeting Nas after your dinner.” - She went straight to the point, the way only Jane could do with him. He stared at her, at a loss for words. So she knew? He thought they were discreet. 

“No. I have no idea what she’s doing tonight or who she is with. It doesn’t matter.” - He calmly stated, watching her closely, hoping she got the message. 

Jane felt her heart leaping with this news, understanding what he was not saying and tried desperately to tamp it down. It didn’t mean anything for her. For them.

“Oh. I’m sorry.” 

Kurt just shrugged, not seeming to care about the end of his relationship in the least. She wanted to ask him why it didn’t work but couldn’t find the courage to do it so she just stayed quiet, enjoying her drink. They were getting closer but it still wasn’t close enough for her to ask whatever came to her mind.

“This movie is a classic.” - He broke the silence after a few seconds and pointed to the muted TV with his bottle. She looked in its direction, not recognizing it. To be honest, since she lost her memories, she had a lot of popular culture to catch up on, particularly movies.

“Is it?” 

“You still haven’t watched the Christmas’ classics?” - And when she shook her head, he sighed dramatically. - “We need to fix that, Jane.” 

She laughed at his expression and bit her lip, considering her next words.

Screw it. You are here. He is here.

“So are we starting tonight?” - She could see her question took him by surprise and she hid a smile. It was good to catch Special Agent Weller off guard sometimes.

“I was thinking of coming back here tomorrow and we could watch some of the favorite ones. It’s kinda late.” - And this way, he would make sure they could spend Christmas Day together.

“Do you have somewhere to be?” - She aimed a grin at him, both her eyebrows raised. Was she challenging him? Flirting with him? 

Was he losing his mind?

“No.” - This is where I want to be.

“So come on. I ‘ll grab some snacks, you grab the beers and we can move this party to the couch.”

He couldn’t think of a better plan for his holiday.

xxxxx

The movie was about Christmas wishes and how they could become true, no matter how impossible they seemed. By the end of it, Jane was silent, a contemplative expression on her face. 

“So, Jane…” - He found himself saying, the three bottles of beer he already had surely boosting his confidence. - “If you had one Christmas wish, what would it be?” 

She thought about it for a while. There were so many things she wished could have happened differently. So many things she missed about her life before her lies and mistakes. But every time she thought about what she would have changed - and she thought about it a lot -, she always came back to that fateful night.

“I wish I had met you in that park after seeing Oscar.”

If she had met him in the park, she would have told him the truth. They would have dealt together with what her old organization was demanding of her and what to do about their little missions. Mayfair would probably still be alive. Oscar would probably be behind bars, and if decided to cooperate to save his ass, maybe they would have already caught Shepherd, Phase Two stopped before it could cause innocent deaths, like those of the FBI agents on that failed raid. Maybe she and Kurt would be together, the way she envisioned in that wonderful dream. 

“Jane…”

“Everything would be different.” - She took a gulp of her beer, suddenly needing the burn of the alcohol in her throat. Maybe it could burn the tears she felt at bay away. - “Everything.” - She finished quietly, not looking at him. If she did, she wasn’t sure she could hold herself together much longer.

Kurt felt his heart breaking for her. He knew what it was like to be stuck in one day from the past, wishing his actions were different, so the outcome could be different. She was putting herself through an agonizing process, one that didn’t change absolutely anything.

Scooting closer to her on the couch, he tentatively touched her arm, letting his hand stay there when she didn’t flinch nor tried to pull away.

“Don’t do this to yourself, Jane.” - He was almost whispering, scared she would retreat further into herself and push him away. - “You did the best you could out of an impossible situation.”

She looked startled at him.

“The best?” - She laughed sarcastically. - “I lied to you, for months. I betrayed your trust, the team’s, Mayf… Mayfair’s.” - One tear escaped and she cursed herself. - “I got her killed with my little missions.”

“Jane.” - God, he wanted to hold her close and never let go. Stop her suffering any way he could. 

She tightened her eyes, taking a deep breath and getting herself back under control. 

“Look at me.” - He said it so firmly she couldn’t do anything but turn her head and stare at him. - “Oscar killed her. Not you. We all made mistakes back then, ok? And…” - He looked away then back at her. Her hopeful expression was all the incentive he needed to keep talking. - “For what it’s worth, I forgive you.”

She blinked, not quite believing her ears. He was forgiving her? Her mind took her back to her first days back with the team, with him.

I don’t like being in the same room as her.

The anger in his eyes. The absolute disappointment. 

And now… she fixed her eyes on him again, still not quite knowing what to say. She knew they were friends again, knew he was doing his best to put their past behind them and go forward, but to forgive her?

“You deserve to hear it. You are a good person, Jane.” - He smiled a little, his thumb caressing her arm. He felt a thousand pounds lighter. This conversation was way overdue. And maybe, just maybe, his words could help her lift some of the weight she was always carrying on her shoulders. - “And I hope someday you can forgive me too.”

“I’ve already forgiven you, Kurt.” - She covered his hand with hers, still processing everything he just told her but needing him to know that immediately so there wouldn’t be a doubt in his mind about it.

“Thank you, Jane.” - He said quietly, and she could hear his relief in every word. 

“Thank you, too.”

They shared small smiles, their eyes never losing contact. And they stayed like that for a while, reconnecting in a way they hadn’t allowed themselves to do since she came back. She could almost see his walls completely crumbling down for her again, feeling a thrill at what it meant for her. For… them. For the first time since everything went wrong, she let herself hope he could feel for her what he did back then. 

If she could have one more Christmas wish, it would be this moment right here. 

“What about you, Kurt?” - She was curious to know what his answer would be. Maybe it would give her a glimpse into what he was thinking at that moment. - “What’s the Christmas wish you have you wished it could be true?”

He licked his lips, let his eyes roam slowly over her face, glanced at her mouth and let it be his answer. 

“Kurt…” 

His free hand palmed her face, his thumb drawing circles again her cheek, giving her enough time to pull away and stop him. Except she just stayed there, her eyes momentarily falling shut and then opening again, looking at him with that expression she used to wear in the beginning, when she seemed completely lost but somehow could find answers in him. 

You. You are my starting point.

“I want another chance with you.” - He said, feeling the butterflies in his stomach. This was risky. Maybe Allie was wrong. Maybe she could forgive him but not love him back. Maybe it was too much to expect it from her. - “If you want it too. If you still feel the same. I know things,”

“I do.” - She interrupted him, her other hand now going up and covering the one on her cheek. She was dreaming, wasn’t she? That was the only explanation for what was happening to her that night.  - “I want that too.” - And she smiled at him, a real, stunning, Jane Doe smile. His breath caught in his throat and he realized only in that moment how much he missed her and their unique, strong connection.

“Are you sure?” - She had to be because once they started this, he was not letting her go. Not ever.

“Yes.” - Her answer was fast, confidant. It was the easiest thing he had ever asked her. 

He gave her a smile she would remember for the rest of her life before pulling her head to him and kissing her. By a silent mutual agreement, their kiss was soft, just lips reconnecting after a great time apart. 

She remembered her dream and smiled, forcing him to pull away.

“What?” 

“Nothing. Just… this is the best Christmas I can remember and I know that’s not much coming from me but,”

He covered her mouth and kissed her again, effectively shutting her up.

“Mine too, Jane.” - He murmured against her lips, his forehead resting against hers. - “Thank you, by the way.”

“For what?”

“Giving me another chance.”

“We owe it to ourselves to see where this goes, don’t you think?” - One of the things that devastated her the most after her mistakes was not knowing what they could be together and where their relationship could go. The “what ifs” often enough drove her crazy.

“Yeah.” - He kissed her on the forehead and leaned away. - “What do you say we go on a date tomorrow?”

“I’d love that.” - She smiled brilliantly, a shine in her eyes only he could put there.

“Good.” - He got up, taking her with him. - “I should go. It’s late and our date will start at breakfast if you have no objections.”

She almost looked disappointed but then her face changed, she wounded her arms behind his neck, preventing him from going anywhere.

“Stay.” 

“Jane…”

“Stay, Kurt. We’ve already wasted too much time.” - She used her best pleading eyes on him, hoping he still couldn’t resist them. - “Besides, I’m afraid if you have time to think, you will change your mind about dating me. Have you met my mother?” - He had and they both laughed at her joke.

“I won’t change my mind about you.” - He said, with that serious expression only Kurt Weller could muster. 

“Stay.” - She repeated, her eyes flickering to his lips and back to him. It reminded him of another night, of starting points and how he hadn’t stayed that day. 

Tonight, it would be different.

They did own it to themselves. They deserved as many happy moments as they could grab.

“Ok.” - He hugged her, crushing her to him. - “Merry Christmas, Jane.”

I love you, Jane.

“Merry Christmas, Kurt.”

They spent the rest of their holiday making a lot of wishes come true.

And it was just the beginning.

[badlydrawndrawnings]

atwq book four thoughts

guess who somehow got a lot of free time yesterday and made the bold decision to finish reading the last atwq book? me!

guees who feels like they jinxed qwerty’s fate from the previous book of being arrested, but alive, even though i bet daniel handler planned it from the start? still me!

guess who is rather upset netflix accidentally gave a clue/spoiler on the identity of hangfire?

also me.

okay, so first off, to get something out of the way. i love this book. i really do. it had me on suspense every chapter.

theodora figured out qwerty was in vfd (...when did she figure out? not long after sharon reveal herself as a fake vfd member? or during the period she and lemony weren’t speaking to each other?), and god she really was willing to take the blame on being qwerty’s killer. did she think maybe she once again screw up, but this time there was no going back because the screw up got someone killed? after all she seem to selfishly went to break qwerty out for a good evaluation. maybe she thought if things went different, he would still be alive. and given the schism happened, vfd while not divided yet, this is like a sign on how another librarian’s death in the long, long future, will be blame on an innocent party and things go to hell again in the pursuit of justice and truth.

also, ghede and gifford also knew of the coup as well? or at least knew the sbg was doing something and they’re like let them do this shit and we can watch it’s gonna benefit us in the long run’. also, holy shit olaf name drop take two with beatrice herself! i didn’t think while knowing each other young mean they actually hanged out with one another to think they’re possibility friends. this puts the opera night even worse. beatrice must have knew olaf’s parents. with my headcanon of olaf parents being caring parents to olaf and used their connections to get their son back earlier than others, this is just awful.

getting back on track from the mess that is vfd there’s a murder on a train (agatha christie ahoy!). i admit several weeks ago i made the decision to watch snowpiercer and train to busan so i couldn’t really take the murder on the orient express shout out clearly and kept on thinking of the wild willy wonka and the chocolate factory/snow piercer theory. and zombies in south korea. 

all the damn sbts kids just thought it great to share the one brain cell to be on the same train (pip and squeak just follow in their taxi; cleo and jake had to travel through time in the dilemma to catch up with them). ornette got her time to shine with her artistic/sculpting skills and there’s some light on the subject of the lost family (of course it’s a fire that took ornette’s mom life. fires seems to be a way to kill a lot of parents). i was right to call her gung-ho working with lemony, she just agreed to make fake bb statues for moxie and kellar and was like ‘oh shit the two are sharing a brain cell. hangfire could figure something is up what have i done’ and had to make something else to give to lemony. i uh..wonder if seth has a reason to draw her baseball cap all...fuzzy. just a weird question.

kellar’s sister lizzie shows up. i’m going to be honest. she has the bad luck of appearing last and under two disguises that went over my head (she sure fooled me!). i do have some thoughts that surround her and the haines family, but that needs me to re-read the last two books to make sure i’m not imagining something . will say lizzie is much younger and shorter than i thought given her first illustration. i hope maybe a re-read will make me get some new insight on her. also, hi sally murphy. i’m glad lizzie got out with maybe your help (i mean, why else would she want to high tail it out of there).

the identity of qwerty’s killer was something i should have seen coming due to how the mitchum parents are more subdue. i want to slap stew’s parents. they spend all their time bickering they only got their shit together to see how their ‘precious’ son is really a bully and killer and working with the villian under their damn noses. i almost feel sorry for them because shit stew more or less blackmail his parents into covering the crime but at the same time...this call could have been avoid if you pay attention to how your son isn’t the angel you think he is..and you two are still fighting with one another please get your priorities straight i beg you. i admit i almost want to slap stew but i don’t slap kids, and i think if i exist in the snicket world i would get murder first by him.

qwerty’s death and the fact he’s a vfd member just hurt me so bad and i’m still kind of grieving over him. for one, i felt like i should have seen qwerty being part of vfd coming. he’s a sub-librarian. while not a sub-sub-librarian, the fact is qwerty is such so damn helpful to lemony i should have seen he was just doing his best to help lemony because theodora wasn’t honestly...wasn’t doing a good job at a chaperone. but he couldn’t blow away his cover because he wasn’t supposed to interfere in the apprenticeship and honestly he was just happy to be a sub-librarian helping children find what they would love reading.

but qwerty isn’t the only death in this book. i got to copy-paste something from an old atwq post in feburary 8, something i made as a joke, because oh boy, this part is the one negative i have honestly.

he tried to pretend to be her father! i know his voice mimicry is basically akin to juni cortez’s mimicry, but this is just cruel had ellington been there.

about a week later, i made the decision to rewatch netflix asoue. now, the first time i watch season two [edit lmao i actually don’t remember if it was season two i think i hated season two so much i could have blur two and three together i got to rewatch the show again definitely. edit two: okay, i’m certain it was season two i’m 98% certain it was was a pause and read easter egg that’s why i couldn’t remember what season exactly damn easter eggs] i honestly was like ‘so they gave nero a last name. coolio. feint isn’t a surname i was expecting but this is the netflix show this probably isn’t canon to the books’.

on the rewatch, after the austere academy part two ended, i realized something is...off, with nero now. he’s mocking people. and his voice, while not mimicking them, is like...it’s like nero could have inherit mimicry from someone but it never went through. or maybe he did got it but it’s not at its full potential without the proper teaching of someone with the skill...like a father, perhaps?

so the kronk meme is playing in my mind, but it’s the edit of him saying ‘oh no, it’s all coming together’. and given patrick warburton also voice kronk, it felt more like lemony snicket decided to materialize right behind me, be an asshole, and thought it funny to do a commentary on my possible realization hangfire, in the netflix show at least, couldn’t keep his dick in his pants and bore a bastard son in an adulterous affair and ellington has a half brother in the world she doesn’t know about and i hope she never learns about.

(given barrymore feint is just a cameo of barry sonnenfeld, i guess the bullshit gene i talked about in another post regarding a theory who netflix!h is should be renamed the feint gene.)

so reading the third book, and especially this book, i kept a close eye on any mentions to ellington’s dad and hangfire’s behavior. i kept on saying in my mind ‘please don’t be who i think you are’. and bam. armstrong feint is hangfire. i feel like if netflix didn’t have the need to make an atwq reference in nero’s surname, and if i was smart enough to have the book clues smack me in the face (i feel there are clues somewhere, and hangfire dropped all pretenses and just being ‘himself’ in book two was one), i wouldn’t be so angry and upset by this reveal. i more or less got spoil and put the pieces together due to an adaptation, and i should have known better than to do a re-watch while reading atwq. i should have consider the possibility of easter eggs to atwq.

anyway, lemony snicket thought it great to kill hangfire by feeding him to a copy bombinating beast (the tadpoles!!). with ellington right freaking there. with most of his sbts friends there to witness. moxie can’t even look lemony in the eye anymore (no more best friends anymore). everything happened just like that and after finishing the book and taking a walk around the living room, i have to say hangfire is a good villain. he achieved his goal of getting the bombinating beast, even if it’s a copy. he’s a very competent villain who succeed in almost every book in some way or form. he played everyone like a puppet and was a threat that is more akin to tmwabbnh and twwhbnb’s level of villainy. kudos to you hangfire i’m impressed. 

hangfire totally got it coming too. however, i do feel...hurt in his death, if only for ellington’s sake. during the walk because i realize ellington reminded me of a character from a different fandom i’m in. there’s some differences that i won’t get into (it’s...complicated for the other fandom), but they’re cut from almost the same cloth: teenage girls with shitty fathers who are using them for their own selfish goals. thoughts for ellington and her future formed faster for me than for the other atwq kids as a result:

post-canon!ellington (a few days later when she finally gets her stuff figure out), has a simple list. 1: avoiding anyone with a vfd tattoo or give shady lemon vibes -ellington split asap after she and kit broke out and have 100% certainly no one is after them, but not before stealing some things from kit, one being notes of vfd volunteers (she thinks). 2: find a new place to live. 3: figure out a new name that isn’t an anagram, because the inhumane society once they heard the news, is probably going to try to get her if they get wind she is hangfire’s daughter and possible ‘successor’. ellington wants nothing to do with the bombinating beast. she never wants to see the statue or anything similar, or hear the words again.

adult!ellington (under a fake name of course), while accepting all that happened, hasn’t forgive lemony snicket. yes, her dad was a villain. yes, she finally understand her dad isn’t the kind naturalist and man, and used her for the biggest ‘what’ event of her life that is also a very selfish goal. many times in the past though, ellington wonders if she missed any signs of her dad’s descend to who he eventually became, or if he hid it very well to where he was wearing two masks all this time, one hiding his true nature. ellington even wonders at one point, dad was going convince her to willingly work with him without the fake kidnapping and had to change his plans to something crueler.

ellington will never know for sure. this is why ellington can’t forgive lemony and will say it to face if they ever meet again. what ellington hates the most out of her father’s death is that she can never tell dad all of her feelings about his wrong doings. she can ask all the questions burning at the back of her mind, or yell her frustrations how terrible a father he is for faking his kidnapping and getting her to do his dirty work, getting her to use her loyalty of family to do things she would never do under normal circumstances. she ask questions and yells at the only photo left of armstrong feint...

and in the end, she knows he’ll never answer, and it hurts to deal with the unknown. adult!ellington doesn’t do the yelling and questioning to the photo as much. partly because she did ‘settle’ on what might be an possible answer, but mostly because the photo is pretty faded to where it’s less ‘armstrong feint’ and more ‘hangfire’. once in awhile though, she slips up like old times.

adult!ellington with her new life (she travels a lot, pays in cash most of the time, and has no set resident; she still love coffee) tends to think of the past, especially when it came to what she had with lemony snicket. did lemony like her? was she just a question in need of solving? ellington admits to possibly liking him, but it was so long ago maybe she just thinks she liked him to have a ‘positive’ memory of the boy she haven’t seen in years that she kind of wants to see again, if only to yell at him for robbing her of something important. his name lands on her radar a lot, twice from the daily punctilio. the first one was learning of lemony snicket’s crimes, and it was an accident.

the second time, she learn of his death, though she read the daily punctilio on purpose in hopes of a name drop. adult!ellington ended up finding some children’s book, and made the mistake of going to the back of it and find a photo of lemony snicket. not really though. lemony is hiding his face (ellington hates it) and she buys it to know what it’s about. it spiral to where she bought the next two books because she wants to know if the baudelaires orphans are real (and because lemony doesn’t seem the same anymore from his writings). ellington settles on real when she pulls out kit snicket’s notes she stolen and cross references names, and even travels to the locations to them to make sure. after the third book publication, the series goes on ‘hiatus’ due to the daily punctilio and their announcement. ellington doubts he’s dead, but couldn’t help attend the funeral. ellington is certain lemony snicket is alive, because she convinced she saw him at his own funeral.

[alindakb]

Letters to my Parents - Thursday 5 Augustus 1993 - by Alinda

Thursday 5 Augustus 1993

Dear mom and dad,

I ran away from home yesterday. Don’t get mad, please. It’s just that Aunt Marge came to visit. She’s a horrible person. And I kind of lost my temper when she insulted you both. The week had started off so good. On the night of my birthday, I received a letter from Draco, the first one this summer. He was okay and still allowed to go to Hogwarts the coming school year. He said it had helped that Hermione hadn’t had enough time to study for her exams, making it possible for him to become the top of our class. It had helped his mother to convince his father. Not that they are on speaking turns. Draco says they are fighting all the time. He hides away in his wing of the house (I still can’t believe he has his own wing, I’m already glad I finally have my own room) to avoid them the best he can.

Included with Draco’s letter was my first ever birthday card. I placed it on my bedside table while I read his letter. But I was interrupted a couple of times. Firstly by Hedwig who came back with a birthday card from Hermione. She’s in France, enjoying her holiday by learning about the local history of witchcraft. A little later Ron’s family owl Errol showed up with a card from Ron. He is in Egypt with his family after they won the Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Draw. Ron is also getting a new wand next year, which is good because that broken wand of his causes more problems than it solves.

I also received a card from Greg. His family didn’t go on holiday, says they haven’t for years. Not since his brother died anyway. I still need to ask him about that and tell him I’m sorry. My trying to kill myself brought back a lot of nasty memories for him. He told me he’s been to visit Draco once this holiday and that Draco looks to be doing okay. He only talks about me all the time now I’m not around him. Greg begged me to tell him to stop obsessing about me so they can talk about Quidditch and stuff.

Hagrid send me a card that included a present. And off course, it was no ordinary present. I hadn’t even unwrapped it fully when the parcel quivered and started to snap loudly. I took my lamp and raised it over my head so I could strike if it was necessary and then pulled off the rest of the wrapping paper. A large book fell out of it with a beautiful green cover. Before the book scuttled sideways and then fell off the bed with a loud clunk I could read the title, written in golden letters. The monster book of Monsters it said. The book hid under my desk. When I tried to grab it, it snapped shut on my hand. When it tried to escape I jumped on it and then held it closed with a belt tightly buckled around it.

Together with Hagrid’s package came also my Hogwarts letter for the coming year. It was the normal stuff, informing me that the school year will start on the 1st of September and a list with the books and supplies I will need. But it also included a permission form to visit Hogsmeade. That made me a little sad because there was no way Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia were going to sign it for me.

By then it was already two o’clock when I could sit down in peace with my flashlight and the letter Draco had sent me. I read it a couple of times until I almost knew every word by heart. As I said, he’s hiding out in his own wing. He finished all his homework in the first week of the holiday and is now reading this interesting book about potions. He misses me a lot, says it’s weird to sleep alone in his massive bed. His mother is taking him to Diagon Alley to get his supplies the Sunday before school starts and he hopes I can go that day as well, so we can finally see each other again. He misses kissing me. And to be honest, so do I. His lips are always so soft. I dream about them at night.

The next morning Aunt Marge came to visit. You know I’ve told you about her before. She’s Uncle Vernon’s sister, the one and only bulldog breeder. She was the one that beat me with her walking stick on Dudley’s fifth birthday to stop me from winning musical statues. And a few years later she gave me dog biscuits for Christmas. And the year before I went to Hogwarts I accidentally (and maybe a little bit on purpose) I stepped on the tail of her favourite dog. The beast had chased me into a tree and Aunt Marge didn’t call him off until long after midnight. And now that nightmare was visiting again, for a whole week. It was the worst birthday present I ever got from the Dursleys.

So for an entire week, I had to pretend that I went to St. Brutus’s Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys, was not allowed to do any ‘funny’ stuff and I was to keep a civil tongue when talking to her. I woke up Hedwig as soon as Uncle Vernon left to tell her to go stay at the Weasley’s for a week, that it wouldn’t be safe for her to stay with Aunt Marge around. I’m sure one of her dogs would go after her. After that, I made sure all my cards and letters from friends, just like my schoolbooks were put away safely.

And it was a nightmare, from start to finish. First, she said that if I had been dropped on her doorstep she would have sent me straight to an orphanage. Then Uncle Vernon made me pretend that they use the cane at St. Brutus to please Aunt Marge, who assumed straight away that I probably got beaten all the time. The next couple of days Aunt Marge made sure I stayed close so she could compare me to Dudley and to boom out suggestions for my improvement.

On the third day of her visit, she crossed a line. She told Uncle Vernon that it was not his fault that I turned out o be an unsatisfactory person. That if there was something rotten on the inside, there was nothing anyone can do. I had to fight tears when she said that, it reminded me of all the bullying that I had received in my first and the start of second year at Hogwarts. She continued by comparing me to her breeding dogs. She said that if there was something wrong with the bitch, there’ll be something wrong with the pup. I got so upset when she said that. I could feel my magic flare through me and Aunt Marge her wineglass exploded in her hands. It didn’t seem to bother her at all, she thought she had just squeezed it too hard. I fled the room after that, afraid I would get another warning from the Ministry about using magic outside of school.

The warning never came, but the insults from Aunt Marge continued. And then yesterday, just after dinner when Aunt Marge was hammered from the wine she turned on me again. Told me I had a mean, runty look, just like some dogs. And then she told us that she had Colonel Fubster drown one of her dogs last year because it was weak. I looked down at my hands when she continued, small tears falling from my eyes. She went on, explaining it all comes down o blood and that Aunt Petunia’s sister was a bad egg. That she was stupid to run off with a wastrel and that I was the result of that. She then asked what you did for a living, dad and Uncle Vernon said you were unemployed. And then Aunt Marge just went on, saying you were a no-account, good-for-nothing, lazy scrounger and I just snapped. I pushed my chair back, stood up and screamed at her that you were not. She laughed at me, joked about the tears I was shedding and then she suggested that you died because you were driving drunk I couldn’t take it and yelled that you didn’t die in a car crash. This made Aunt Marge angry, she, of course, doesn’t know the truth and still believes you dying in a car crash is the trued. She called me a nasty little liar, an insolent, ungrateful little something. She couldn’t finish her sentence, her body was swelling, her face expanded, her tiny eyes bulged, and her mouth stretched too tightly for speech. Then the buttons from her tweed jacket burst. She just kept swelling. I knew I was doing it, but I couldn’t stop it. I was so angry. I’ve never been that angry before, it scared me a little.

I don’t know what happened to Aunt Marge after that, I ran out of the room towards the cupboard under the stairs. The door burst open before I reached it. I think I did that too with my magic. I took my trunk out of the cupboard and then raced upstairs to grab the pillowcase with my books, letters and birthday cards. I sprinted back down and placed the pillowcase in my trunk. At that moment Uncle Vernon came into the hallway and ordered me to come back and put her right. I don’t know why, but I wanted to hurt Uncle Vernon at that moment. I grabbed my wand and pointed it at him. For a couple of seconds, I wanted to jinx him, to hurt him and punish him like he used to punish me. And then I thought of Draco and how disappointed he would be if I wouldn’t show up at school because I was in jail. And I thought of you, knowing you wouldn’t want me to hurt anyone. So I just opened the door behind me and left without saying a word.

It took me a while to calm down. Dragging along my heavy trunk helped with that. When I reached Magnolia Crescent I collapsed onto a low wall. It didn’t take long before I started to panic then. I was sure I would get expelled from Hogwarts because I did magic and even harmed a Muggle doing so. I was afraid I was going to get arrested, or outlawed from the wizarding world. And that made me think of Draco, and how I would have to leave him if that was true. I couldn’t force Draco to leave the wizarding world, he knows nothing about Muggles and their ways. I started to cry again, wishing I could be with Draco at that moment. I needed him more than ever.

After another while, I decided that since I would already get expelled I would just use some more magic to bewitch the trunk to make it feather-light. That way I could tie it to my broomstick, cover myself with the invisibility cloak and then fly to London to get my money from Gringotts and start my life as an outcast. I opened my trunk to look for the cloak when I felt like someone was watching me. I looked at the black alleyway behind me, even used a Lumos to see it better. And that is when I saw it, a hulking outline of something very big, with wide, gleaming eyes. It scared me to death. I stepped backwards, I hit my trunk and tripped. My wand slipped out of my hand and then there was this massive bang sound and I was surrounded by blinding lights.

I yelled and rolled back onto the pavement, just before a purple triple-decker bus stopped beside me. The name ‘The Knight Bus’ was spelt in gold lettering over the windshield. A conductor leapt out of the bus and introduced himself as Stan Shunpike. He spoke loudly into the thin air until he noticed that I was sitting on the ground. I got back up, looked for the massive black dog I had seen only moments before, but it was gone.

It turns out the Knight Bus can take stranded wizards and witches anywhere they need. I didn’t want to put too much attention on me so I pretended my name was Greg Goyle. I’m sure Greg won’t mind, I’m sure he will find this story funny once Draco tells him when he goes back to school. It would take me 14 Sickles to get to Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire, so I looked for my last coins and paid Stan. He helped me get my trunk into the bus and off we were. Stan wanted to know why I wanted to go to the Malfoy’s and I told him that I knew Draco Malfoy from Hogwarts and that I was going to stay with them for a while because my mother wasn’t feeling well. Luckily they believed my story and didn’t ask any other questions.

The Knight Bus doesn’t have normal seats, instead, it’s filled with half a dozen brass bedsteads. Once I set down on mine the bus took off with another loud bang. It threw me back flat on my bed because of the speed of the bus. I felt really nervous on the bus. The driver, Ernie wasn’t a very good one. We kept mounting the pavement, only the bus didn’t hit anything. Everything jumped out of the way of the bus as it approached and back into position once it had passed.

I couldn’t sleep, so I took the Daily Prophet that Stan offered me. On the front page was a large photo of Sirius Black, an escaped prisoner. I had also seen him on the Muggle news. It turns out he murdered thirteen people with a single curse twelve years ago. He looked just like a vampire in the picture. Stan saw me looking and told me that Black had been a big supporter of Voldemort. And once Voldemort was gone and he was cornered In the middle of a street he blasted half the street apart, killing one wizard and a dozen Muggles. And after that, he just stood there and laughed, like it was one big joke. It seems that this Black is off his head. And he’s the first one ever to break out of Azkaban.

After all the other wizards and witches had left the bus we came to a stop on a small country road. Stan said we were at Malfoy Manor. When I got out I could see a large hedge stretching in both directions. In front of us was a gravel driveway, and the large hedge curved with it and continued alongside the driveway. I took my trunk and started my way up this driveway until I reached a large iron gate. The gate contorted into a face and asked me if I knew what time it was. I told it, that I was sorry for bothering him that late, but that I really needed to speak to Draco Malfoy. The gate informed me that the young master Draco had already gone to bed and that I would have to come back after sunrise. I tried to convince the gate that I had nowhere to go, but it wouldn’t let me pass. After a while, the face disappeared and I was stranded in front of the gate. I set down on my trunk and tried to think of a way to let Draco know that I was at his house. No good ideas came to mind and after a while, I felt stupid for even thinking I could just rock up at Malfoy Manor and that everything would be okay. Draco’s father hates me after all and me showing up, as a criminal, won’t help matters much for Draco.

I decided to turn around, walk back to the road and call for the Knight Bus again and go to London. I could wait till morning and then get my money and disappear. I would write to Draco and tell him what happened and maybe meet up with him somewhere to say goodbye.

Just as I started walking someone stepped through the gates. I looked around and saw Draco’s mother Narcissa standing with her arms folded around her. She was wearing a long black jacket and a purple scarf. She asked me if I was leafing already and pointed out that Draco would be very disappointed when he would hear I didn’t even stay to say hello in the morning. I couldn’t help myself, I started crying again at that point. All the tension and fear leaping out of me at once. Draco’s mother was very kind, she hugged me and told me it was all going to be okay. She guided me through the gates, it was very weird, they didn’t open at all, just turned into some black smoke and were back being a solid gate once we passed it. The rest of the driveway was shielded by the large hedge all the way up to the house. It was dark, so I couldn’t see it properly, but I knew it was larger than any house I’ve ever seen before. I hope I get to see it a bit better later today, but for now, I’m stuck in Draco’s wing to make sure that his father doesn’t see me.

Narcissa brought me to a room on the first floor that held a bed and some other small furniture. She order a house elf to get me something to drink and eat and then made sure I told her what had happened. She told me I could sleep here for now, but that it wasn’t wise to keep me at the manor since Lucius still didn’t approve of me and Draco’s relationship. She told me Draco was only two doors away, asleep in his own bed. I can’t believe how kind Narcissa is, she insisted I call her that, that miss Malfoy makes her sound old. And I like it when she smiles at me, it reminds me of Draco’s smiles.

Once Narcissa had left me alone to sleep I crept out of the room to find Draco’s bedroom. It wasn’t hard at all and I was stunned by how big it was. Draco has a king-sized bed. It’s fairly simple, just a bed base with a mattress on top of it. Now that I’ve seen it in the light of day it really looks amazing. It has two simple black boxes next to it as bedside tables and a large desk stands on the other side of the room. One of his walls is filled with Quidditch posters and the picture of us together that Dean made for him is really stuck underneath Draco’s pillow. And Draco has a walk-in closet filled with all his clothes. Oh, and he has a massive en suite bathroom with a massive bath and a cabinet filled with all his crazy hair products.

Of course, Draco was really surprised to see me sneak into his room yesterday, but he didn’t hesitate for one moment, he just lifted his blanket and let me crawl into bed with him. He asked me if he was dreaming. I told him I was really here. Then he asked me why I was at his house and I told him that I had run away and that I was afraid that I won’t be going back to Hogwarts because I did magic. Draco said it would be okay, that the Ministry would understand that it was an accident and that I shouldn’t worry. He kissed me then and that made my worries ebb away. I fell asleep in his arm and woke up with him staring at me. It was really nice.

Narcissa came to look for us in the early morning and wasn’t even upset when she found me in her son’s bed. She told us to stay in Draco’s wing until Lucius would have left for the day. She told us the elves would bring us breakfast and now we’re just waiting for it to arrive. Draco keeps asking me when I’m going to put my book down and pay him some attention. I told him I had to tell you all about what happened and he stopped complaining after that. He’s reading a book right now, his hand entwined with mine on the bed. I’m really happy I’m here now and somehow I’m not that worried anymore about what is going to happen next.

I will let you both know as soon as I do what is going to happen now. If I get expelled or not and if I can stay here for the rest of the summer. I really hope I can.

Love you,

Harry James Potter

[mintchocolateleaves]

Black Feather (3/?)

Summary:  Kuroba Kaito has a plan. Find the people responsible for his father’s death, branded within the magic community as a traitor, and make them pay. There’s just some things he needs to do first. (Set in the HP-verse.) Slowburn KaiShin.

[Beginning]     [Previous Chapter]

So here Kaito is.

Back in the same, mundane interrogation room, wrongly accused and feeling overly stuck, once again, in the grey. The only difference between this attempt at policing, and the previous, is that instead of having Mouri sat next to him, Kudo has the dark skinned Auror – Hattori – instead.

They seem like a much more comfortable partnership. Good for them.

Maybe Kaito would feel happier for the Aurors if they weren’t currently staring him down, trying to figure him out. Arrested, again, simply because he’d been somewhere he wasn’t allowed?

He understands there’s some sort of point behind this, something hinting at justice, but a faint irritation builds at him as he realises that this isn’t just two aurors finishing up their jobs. There’s also prejudice here, no matter how unconscious it might be.

“I was just in pursuit of some dragons.” Kaito says, repeating what he’d already told them at Mt. Fuji. “And I thought inside the caves, I’d be able to see them.”

Hattori’s expression is stern. He says, “there were alarms. One of which ya got past without triggerin’ a response in. Tha’ doesn’t seem suspicious to ya?”

Kaito shrugs. “The dragons get cold easily, you know, since they’re cold blooded reptiles. My best bet to see them, was to go in the caves.”

Crossing his arms, Kudo narrows his eyes. “And you snuck past the alarm to see them. Is that right?”

“How do you know I’m not just cold blooded.” Kaito says, trying to keep the bite of a grin out of his voice. He’s bored, while confined in a place like this, but he can make it a little more interesting… hopefully. “I mean, I’m not the kind of person to sneak into places.”

Kind of a lie. Because of the whole Kaitou KID element to his life. But well, he doesn’t really sneak even then, he sidles onto the crime scene, edges his way to what he’s set out to steal.

Sneaking implies that there is something cowardly about the way he acts – and KID, Kaito, is most certainly not a coward. No, there’s an element of bravery behind every risk he takes. He is not the type to sneak around.

“Right,” Kudo sighs. “You’re not cold blooded, Kuroba. You used some sort of cloaking spell.”

“No,” Kaito says, tilting his head. “I didn’t. Look at my recent spells if you’re really that curious.”

They’ve already taken his wand back into their custody – searching it again for spells they’ll never find – and Kaito lets out a sigh at their difficult expressions. They’re not easy to read, these two aurors, which probably goes well for their professions. But Kaito can still read into their actions, it just takes a little longer. It’s almost like reading a book in a foreign language – achievable, but it takes more time, requires a bit more thought to understand the deeper meanings.

Hattori’s a little easier to read than Kudo, and so he’s the one Kaito focuses on. And there, in the stiffness of his shoulders, is the feeling that he’s been waiting to observe: Hesitation.

They’ve got nothing to so much as prove he’s committed any crime. His wand offers no cloaking spell, no disarmed alarms with carefully planned out magic. The only new spells they’ve seen are completely legal, no damning evidence at all.

“You have,” Kaito says “You’ve already looked at my spell history.”

The aurors both seem nonplussed, until seconds later when they start to squirm. It’s not obvious discomfort no, not anything that would be quickly picked up on by people not accustomed to observing human emotion.

“We’ve looked into the spell history,” Kudo says, “and we’ve decided we’ll give you the opportunity to confess now.”

Right – well, Kaito’s not an idiot.

He knows they’ve got nothing on him. People don’t go asking for confessions when they can force one out by throwing evidence at them. Aurors don’t work like that, and he knows it.

“There’s nothing to confess,” Kaito says, crossing his arms. He bites into his cheek at the patronising looks he receives, “so if there’s nothing you can charge me with, I’d like to leave, thank you.”

Clears his throat, Kudo lets out a sigh. It drags, almost as if it pains him to admit they’ve got no evidence on Kaito, nothing to keep him in their custody.

“You’re good to go,” the auror bites out, at last.

~~~

“Why is it,” Nakamori Aoko says, as she opens her door, waving Kaito in through the threshold, “that you’re always late! I cooked dinner for an hour ago!”

Kaito offers a small smile, with a hesitant apology behind his eyes. He knows she’d spent hours cooking, favouring the mahonashi method, using no magic but that of her hands as she prepares the dish.

Coming from a family without magic, Kaito can’t blame her for enjoying the process. Aoko had forced him to cook with her once, when she’d invited him over last, and it had proven to be a highly relaxing process.

“Sorry, sorry.” Kaito says, lifting his hands up in surrender. “I’ve had a fairly full day.”

Aoko tilts her head, watches as Kaito replaces his shoes with slippers. It’s another non-magical ritual her family follows, a culture that Kaito doesn’t really understand but follows anyway, out of respect for her customs.

She’s taught him a lot, in the time they’ve been friends, Kaito thinks. Between her and her father, they’re the closest thing he has to a family.

“I bet your day hasn’t been as busy as you think,” Aoko says, shaking her head. “You’re just constantly distracting yourself!”

She sounds exasperated, but there’s also the shy hint of a smile in her voice. As irritated as he can make her – once she’d sent a broom chasing after him with a rather high-level jinx to let out her frustration – there’s also a part of her that continues to enjoy his presence.

Which is good, because Kaito had been worrying that his time abroad would have changed things between them, even minutely. They’d sent letters by owl, but there had always seemed more formal and he’d been worrying they’d drift apart.

“Ah,” it’s a small chuckle that reaches his throat, “it’s not completely my fault today. I spent a lot of time in the auror’s station.”

At the piercing look she sends towards him, Kaito adds a quick, “due to no fault of my own. Obviously.”

Aoko isn’t an idiot, it’s one of the reasons he loves her so much. She’d been the brightest witch in their class, and when she’d decided to go into training as a healer, she’d been in the highest tier as well. So, Kaito can see the understanding flash across her face within seconds.

“Not even back a few hours,” she sighs, “and already they’re making things difficult for you because of your surname. God, if I ever meet them, I’m going to jinx them so badly they’ll be sent to the hospital.”

Kaito lets out a small laugh. “Where you’ll then have to treat them.”

“Yes,” Aoko says with a small nod, “it’ll be very satisfying. But in the meantime, please don’t get yourself into situations that’ll catch the aurors attention. They’re always looking for reasons to be cruel to you, you know that.”

“Looking for too many reasons to arrest me,” Kaito says. Twice. He’s been arrested twice in one day, and maybe both had been his fault but he still has a right to be annoyed by it. “But yeah, I won’t go looking for trouble, Aoko.”

Another lie. Kaito’s not only going looking for trouble, but he’s taking a swan dive into disaster, hoping he can swim deeply into it’s depths until he finds the exact trouble he’s looking for.

“Good,” Aoko says, nodding. “Dad! Kaito’s finally here, we can finally eat!”

A small resounding cheer from the other room leaves Kaito grinning.

~~~

“So you enjoyed your travels abroad?” Nakamori Ginzo – Aoko’s father – says after they’ve eaten dinner, the three of them settling down in the small sitting room. “You were quite eager to go, weren’t you?”

Kaito nods. He sits, leaning back against the wall, watching the two Nakamori’s as they relax following their meal. There’s not a lot of magical items in this house. Ginzo, Aoko’s father, has no magical blood in his veins, and so Aoko tries not to overwhelm him with too much of the unknown.

“Yeah,” Kaito says, “it interesting seeing how all the European and North American magical cultures are different to our own. Did you guys enjoy the postcards I sent?”

Aoko grins. “Of course, we did, they were wonderful! Although, added with all your letters, my neighbours now believe we have an owl problem around her.”

She lets out a small laugh, shaking her head. Then, “did you bring me any souvenirs?”

Kaito stalls, offers a shrug and a half smile. He says, “all I’ve got on me are dragon scales.”

While her father lets out a small bewildered ‘dragon scales?’, Aoko darts forwards, sitting as far close to Kaito as possible. He’s used to this, her curiosity, and the movements that predate her questions, so he simply opens the shoulder bag he’s stored the scales in and lets her peer inside.

Aoko takes one out before he can even blink.

It reflects the light in a way that makes the room seem even lighter than it is. It almost shimmers, and Aoko looks at the scale with an almost awed look, before turning back to show her father.

His awe holds uncertainty in it, but it is equally as perplexed.

“Where did you get the scales from?” Aoko asks, almost breathless, when she turns back to face him. “They’re magnificent. Which dragon are they from?”

Kaito takes the scale back, runs his hand down it. Unlike with the mother dragon earlier, when he smooths this scale, it doesn’t leave him bleeding. He says, “Mt. Fuij, there was a Ukrainian Ironbelly that was having her scales maintained. It’s not from abroad or anything.”

Aoko tilts her head and offers a smile. “Why not turn some of those scales into a little bracelet? It could be the souvenir you never got me.”

Well – it would be a means of testing how durable the scales are before making any inventions of his own. If it means he can avoid making silly, minor mistakes on future projects, then, why not appease Aoko with it?

“Sure,” Kaito says, “I’ll see what I can do. I’ve certainly got enough of these in my bag, so why not?”

~~~

Across Tokyo, in the aurors office, Shinichi bites his lip.

He’s been thinking about the arrests from this morning, the one’s with Kuroba. He’s pretty sure today is not going to be the last time that he’ll see the wizard, and so the interactions with him weigh on his mind.

How exactly does a man walk past traps without logging the spells into his wand? One look at Kuroba’s school records had shown him to be above average in his classes, but nowhere near strong enough at magic to perform wandless magic of this strength.

There’s something hidden here, something he doesn’t understand, and it grates at him.

“You still thinkin’ about tha’ Kuroba guy?” Hattori says, as he comes to join him at their desk. Their seats are opposite, with double tables, stacks of paper just high enough that Shinichi has to crane his head to see the Osakan.

“Of course I am,” Shinichi sighs, crossing his arms. He leans back against his chair, staring down at the file that they’ve managed to salvage on Kuroba. It’s got his school records, the files that have been sent from abroad – scarce, and not detailed enough due to the ministry’s lack of extradition treaties. “He just irritates me.”

“Of course he does,” Hattori says, “he’s slippery. People look at him expectin’ trouble, ‘cause of his family, so he’s learnt how to avoid gettin’ in trouble at all.”

Shinichi shakes his head. “He’s not learnt to avoid it, he’s learnt how to get away with it.”

Now, he leans forward, looking at the photograph of Kuroba from his school days. It depicts him straight-faced, looking at the camera as it flashes. And then, since the photographs show the seconds following the photographs, he moves and offers a smile to someone past the camera.

Shinichi takes a moment to look at him. Tries to read the person in the picture.

It had been taken years ago, in his final year at Mahoutokoro. When he’d just turned eighteen. Different, seeing as it’s six years old – he’s not changed too much though. He’s a little older, the blatant irritation in his shoulders have settled out and his eyes–

Wait. His eyes.

“Hattori,” Shinichi says now, “what colour were Kuroba’s eyes?”

The Osakan lets out a small laugh, says, “please tell me you’re not stuck thinkin’ about his eyes.”

Shinichi sends him a withering look. “I’m being serious. When we had him in the interrogation room, what colour were his eyes?”

Hattori breathes, “they were weird. A purple – lilac, I think?”

Shinichi nods to himself, “yeah, I thought so.”

“What of it?” Hattori says.

Shinichi stands momentarily, drops his folder on the top of Hattori’s desk, the page open on the photograph. He says, “so why, in this picture of him, are his eyes blue?”

[Next]

[tobns]

SNOWED IN: A (Tragic) Christmas Story — part two.

In Which Jennifer Proves to Everyone That She Really Has Gone Off the Deep End This Time

Josh Hutcherson has perhaps risen past every imaginable evil on the top of my hit list within nine hours flat, solely for doing the one damn thing I’d hoped he hadn’t done – jinxing us.

Jackie, Jack and I all wound up sharing a room – the original setup was for Alexander and I to share one of the guest rooms, but the second that was announced, Jackie grabbed my wrist and told Jen, “Over my fucking bloody corpse” – which I wasn’t too enthused about, seeing as how I didn’t really want to third wheel any more than necessary. Fortunately, Jackie is an even better best friend than she is a girlfriend and banished Jack to the sleeping bag, her and I sharing the full-size bed. If Jack had a problem with it, he didn’t voice it. Truth be told, I think he was so mentally exhausted from his journey through the supposed underworld that Jackie could have given him a blanket and pointed to the closet and he wouldn’t have complained any.

I’d been rudely awakened somewhere around eight, mostly to the sound of Jackie tripping over Jack as she stumbled to look out the window. Apparently, she wasn’t playing around when it came to buying our plane tickets out of here – she was hellbent on getting out of Colorado before the sun set, even if it meant she flew the plane herself. I’m not sure why she’s got her foot on the gas pedal with this one; if anyone would have gone behind our backs and orchestrated the Hunger Games cast reunion of the decade, I would have pegged it to be Jackie. I just don’t think she appreciates being lied to, and she doesn’t want to have Alexander’s blood on her hands when Dayo goes in for the kill and she gets her fair share of swipes in.

No need to set an alarm clock when with Jackie, she makes a good enough one all on her own.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“Can you fucking keep it down?!” Jack had moaned. “I’m trying to dream about sleeping on a mattress and not this godawful carpet.”

The sound of curtains violently moving around filled the room, along with Jackie’s mumbling to herself under her breath about how she was going to strangle Josh once she saw him at breakfast.

“Where’s the fire?” I’d mumbled, still half asleep as I sat up. Even through bleary eyes, I could see Jackie standing in the glow of the window, everything white around her and a halo of strawberry blonde hair.

She’d simply turned around, frown settled on her face and the creases on her forehead deep. “Oh, there’s no fire,” was her mocking reply. “There’s too much snow on the ground for that to ever fucking happen here!”

Breakfast was an interesting affair; Josh was waltzing around the table giving everyone pancakes the sizes of our heads while we all glared at him. I think he begged Jen to give him that job for two reasons: number one, so he wouldn’t have to worry about any of us poisoning him (accidentally or purposeful), and number two, so he was always just far enough out of reach that he didn’t wind up with a butter knife in his side.

“Eleven inches of snow,” Dayo had mumbled into his glass of milk to no one in particular. “That’s just enough snow to bury Josh in and no one will ever be able to recover the body.”

Jackie nearly spit her orange juice clear across the table at that one.

After breakfast, the unspoken consensus is that we are all going our separate ways in this gigantic house to do our own thing while we wait for the heavy and blowing snow to settle. Jen, however has other ideas.

“Whoa whoa whoa,” she says as soon as Leven and Willow start to get up. “Where are you guys going?”

“Back to bed,” Willow replies.

Leven juts her thumb out in Willow’s direction. “What she said.”

Jen looks appalled at this revelation. “No, I’ve got stuff for us to do!” she exclaims, sliding her chair back. “Go nowhere.” With that, she darts back off into the kitchen.

Jackie leans over in my direction. “What are the chances that I can go outside and not die of hypothermia or frostbite?”

“Very slim,” I inform her.

“Might be worth it.”

Jen returns almost as quickly as she vanished, and perhaps it’s because I’m still exhausted (Jackie is still a kicker when she sleeps) but I’m having trouble discerning what it is that Jen has gone to do. That is, until I realize she is now wearing a shirt that has my face on it.

I don’t even want to know how much it cost her to get it made, but Jen has made herself a giant sweatshirt with the giant cast picture we all took for Vanity Fair back in Concord. Willow wasn’t present for that shoot and Liam was, but since Liam is not here but Willow is, Jen has taken the creative liberty to photoshop Willow’s face over Liam’s body. As if the shirt couldn’t look any more ridiculous with that addition, Jen spins around to show off the back – in between the shoulder blades, exposed thanks to her sloppy bun and in giant, orange letters, reads, ‘DIRECTOR OF FUN.’ Out of the corner of my eye, Dayo’s hand twitches a little bit closer to his fork, presumably to gouge out his eyes.

“I’m almost scared to ask why you have that on and what ‘director of fun’ could possibly mean,” Jack starts warily.

“Then I’ll save you the trouble,” Jen finishes, a smile that no one who has only gotten a handful of hours of sleep should be able to don reappearing on her face. “Since we’re stuck inside until later tonight at least, and you guys are kinda right about us all having grown up and gone down our different paths, I figured we could do some fun stuff with each other today! We can rediscover our bond.” She flourishes her end statement with a set of jazz hands.

Everyone is deathly silent, until Amandla speaks up. “That is the most ridiculous, whitest shit I have ever heard of.”

“Thank you,” Jen replies, and either she doesn’t see the insult in it or just elects to ignore it. “We haven’t hung out all together in ages, and I feel like we need to learn who we are now in order to be as close of friends, so bond we shall!” She then protrudes her cell phone out of the pocket of her pajama pants. “Now, I may or may not have stolen all of these things from the Camp Hi-Ho counselor training, but I think they’ll be just as fun.”

“Fun?” Dayo repeats. “You know what would be fun? Going back to bed. That heating blanket was everything.”

“That’s not on the checklist of fun,” Jen shoots down. Jack groans.

“There’s a checklist of fun too?”

“What do you take me for, Quaid, an unorganized moron?” I can see his answer perched on his lips even with Jackie sitting in between the both of us.

“Alright,” Jen continues, clapping her hands together after she shoves her phone back in her pocket. “I’m giving you losers an hour to take showers, brush your teeth – especially you, Hutcherson – and to pull yourselves together however you so need. I expect all of you sitting down in my basement by eleven to have fun.”

“The basement?” Alexander whispers as he leans in closer to me – he’d happily swiped the seat next to mine the very second I sat down, thinking he had beaten Jackie out. He had been a little deflated ever since Jackie swept me away to room with her. “Is she planning to off us one by one where they can’t hear our screams?”

“If we disobey, yes,” I mutter back, never taking my eyes off of our self-proclaimed director of fun.

When none of us begin to move from the table, Jen starts clapping wildly. “Come on people, let’s look alive!” she yells. We startle forward, grumbling our way out of our seats and leaving everything for Josh to clean – again, to keep himself out of the line of fire from everyone else for jinxing us.

“I’m pretty sure Jen was a drill sergeant in a past life,” Amandla muses when I find myself standing next to her as we wait for Jack to shimmy on up the stairs.

“Maybe that’s what she’s been doing in her free time,” I say, shrugging.

“Jen a drill sergeant, you an athlete,” she points out. Our eyes meet, and I can see the glimmer in them as she looks up at me with a cheeky little smirk on her face.

“Don’t tell me you’re surprised by that too,” I warn. She quickly lifts one of her hands in mock arrest, the other settling on the banister as we start upstairs.

“All I’m saying is that I was the one who saved Alexander from going to prison when he tried to give you mouth-to-mouth resuscitation after you fell off that platform.”

My eyes widen into a glare right about the time Alexander’s head pops in between us. “What’s this about me going to prison?” he asks.

Amandla simply reaches forward and pats him on the shoulder. “Nothing you need to worry about, bucko.”

Jackie exiles Jack from the bedroom after he offers to shower with her and save water – I want to crawl under the covers and die when he makes that suggestion, their coupledom can be a little disturbing to think about – leaving the two of us to get changed and pull ourselves together in peace. She asks that I braid her hair after we change out of our pajamas, perched on the edge of the bed while I sit on my knees, weaving strands of her hair together as delicately as I can.

“This is gonna be a fuckshow, I’m sure,” I say, and Jackie snorts.

“Ya think? Twenty bucks says Dayo tries to kill Alexander, Alexander hits on you, Jack manages to break a limb, Leven breaks a nail, Amandla escapes through the fucking air ducts, and Saturn falls out of orbit.” She then makes a circular gesturing motion. “All before lunch.” I simply hum my agreement, and Jackie continues talking.

“Speaking of Alexander, what the hell were you two talking about on the plane last night?” she asks. “I swear, you two liked to have never shut up.” It’s a very good thing we aren’t in front of a mirror and Jackie has no choice but to look straight ahead, because I can feel the heat beginning to rise into my cheeks.

Jackie and Jack had been diagonal to Alexander and I on the plane, Jackie’s need for the window seat overruling the need to monitor Alexander and I. “Hands to yourself,” she’d warned him before ushering on in, and he’d simply rolled his eyes.

“She’s not changed any,” he told me as we walked into our little row of seats, waiting for me to slide past him into the window seat – he’d been happy to offer it to me.

My reply was every bit explanation as it was remark. “It’s Jackie.”

Despite having a decently-sized arm rest in between our seats, Alexander had offered to share his USC blanket with me as an alternative to using the shitty one provided by the airline, as well as his earphones and jumbo bag of Sour Patch Kids. I think most of it was simply an excuse to talk to me, which ultimately worked in the long run.

Somewhere over Illinois and around the fifth Black Keys song that had come on shuffle thus far, Alexander had glanced over at me, smirk riddling his face. “You still only eat the red ones?” he’d observed, head tilting in the direction of the half-empty bag of Sour Patch kids.

I’d nodded. “The others still taste like medicine.”

“The green ones do not taste like medicine,” he countered, and I’d rolled my eyes.

“They’re lime flavored, which is a sin within itself.”

A quiet laugh had fallen past his lips as he looked right at me. “You haven’t changed any, either.”

“Oh, god, I don’t know about that,” I’d mumbled. “I mean, I can now drive a car, buy cigarettes, get tattoos, and buy lottery tickets – I’m a breath away from legally ordering shots at a bar. I’d say a lot has changed since our Hunger Games days.”

“Okay, well if you look at it like that, then yeah.” Alexander ran a hand over the top of his head, smoothing down his hair. “I’m just referring to…well, you, I guess. Your personality. You’re exactly how I remember you, maybe a just little bit feistier.”

“Coming from the grown man who has no qualms about exposing his bare ass for all of Instagram to see.”

“You saw that?” he asked, a slight guffaw slipping out. I merely shot him a look.

“How does one not see that?”

Underneath the blanket, his arm reached over the arm rest and he nudged my arm with his elbow. “Hey, you can’t say too much – there’s no way I’m ever gonna unsee that Joshua Tree picture you posted a little while ago.” My cheeks immediately started to burn; that picture had only come about from a dare courtesy of Madeline, and hadn’t bothered me any when she posted it. There was no shame or embarrassment to be had, up until then at least. All it seemed to do was amuse him. “Yep, still modest – I’m telling you Iz, you haven’t changed a bit.”

The conversation rolled on through how school had gone for each of us (we had fallen out of contact by the time I made it to my senior year) to recent projects, past what family vacation we’d last been on and crushing right through the political climate of America before touching on our individual meanings of life based on what the last few years had brought our way. Eventually, we just decided to be courteous to the majority of the cabin around us and shut up, the both of us pulling books out of our carry-ons and diving in. Part of me felt compelled to take a picture of it, since I knew Jackie couldn’t see it and she wouldn’t believe me when I told her Alexander was reading a book not entirely composed of giant words or pictures of naked girls. It had been nice just coexisting next to him for a little bit, the version of him that felt a little more subdued than the one I’d known back when I was fourteen. For god’s sake, the man wore reading glasses now. It was enough to make me overlook the revolving door of shitty girlfriends he had for just a little while and appreciate the human being next to me, skipping over all of the country songs because he knew how much I loathed them.

“Oh, nothing really,” I reply to Jackie quietly, voice a little squeaky.

She scoffs. “Yeah, I’ll bet it was.”

I finish off the braid, moving the hair tie up my wrist and tying it off. Patting her shoulders to signal I’m done, I fall back on my ankles. “Listen, I could have grilled you about your sex life now that Jack has finally fucking left us alone, but I didn’t, so count your blessings and hold your tongue.”

The whole way downstairs, Jackie drills holes into the back of my head for that comment.

Everyone save for Jack and Willow is already downstairs in the basement, which has been renovated to be a giant recreation room. Jen’s pushed the pool table against the back wall, the TV above it reflecting her Spotify account as she plays the aptly titled ‘Fun-ger Games’ playlist (it’s currently playing Sister Sledge’s We Are Family). A bunch of beanbag chairs, random storage chests, and stray couch cushions have been lined up against the long wall, where everyone else is sitting, looking less than pleased. Jackie and I exchange glances, both of which have a unanimous mood: death is nigh.

“Fuhrman, Emerson!” Jen chirps, meeting us at the doorway. “What, no Jack?”

“Why would Jack be with us?” Jackie replies, to which Jen’s face falls.

“You’re hilarious, Mrs. Quaid,” she teases, and Jackie’s eyes darken. “Go sit down, we’ll start in a minute.”

As we saunter past Jen, Jackie sidles up to me. “Don’t you dare tell him this, but Jack was right yesterday,” she hisses through my hair and into my ear. “That airport was the gate to hell, hell being this.” All I can do is nod in agreement.

She and I sit down on one of the trunks next to Dayo, who is watching the weather like it will suddenly reflect the very thing he wants to see – melted snow and free roadways. Jackie leans over my lap to try and get a look at what he’s scrolling through. “You looking at the website for a funeral home?” she asks, their eyes meeting knowingly after she flickers her gaze in Alexander’s direction.

Dayo scowls. “Nope, that was last night’s light reading.”

Her lips curl up in a thin smile. “How I’ve missed my kindred mind.”

Jack and Willow finally come traipsing down, Jack wearing the exact same outfit he was wearing last night on the plane. “Okie doke,” Jen announces, producing a little bucket out of nowhere. “Before we get started, fork over any and all cellular devices.”

“Have you lost your mind, woman?” Jack asks as she juts the bucket out in his direction first. She simply blinks, unfazed. The two of them engage in a little stare off, to which Jack finally caves in on. Her face brightens.

“Hand ‘em over, rest of you.”

Each of us puts our phone into the bucket begrudgingly, giving Jen a look as she makes her way down the line. After she’s collected the last phone, she pulls her own out of her pocket and sets it on top – at least she’s committing to it as well, I guess – before walking across the room. I hadn’t noticed the gigantic fucking safe sitting on top of the counter until she stops in front of it, putting the bucket inside and slamming the door shut.

Jackie leans a little closer to me as she whispers, “She really wants to incite the real-life Hunger Games, Iz, Jen has gone full-blown kamikaze.”

“Well, let’s get this show on the road, shall we?” Jen proclaims, turning away from the safe and back towards us.

“I’d like to get on the road to the airport,” Dayo mutters under his breath. Jen hears this, shooting him a glare in response.

“Anyways,” she draws out, cutting her eyes away from him. “Like I said, I swiped most of this from Camp Hi-Ho, but I think it’ll work just as well! Normally, we’d start off by introducing ourselves and sharing one fun fact with each other, but I think that’s a little bit uncalled for in this situation. I think we’ll just jump straight into the human knot.”

“The human what now?” Leven repeats.

Jen gestures for all of us to stand up, arranging us in a circle. I’m standing shoulder to shoulder with Amandla and Alexander, who all but shoves Jackie out of his way so he could stand beside me, Amandla and I exchanging pained glances and murder flickering in Jackie’s eyes. “Alright, so everyone has to grab hands with someone that isn’t standing next to you,” Jen explains. To make an example, she reaches across the way and grabs my left hand with her right, and Jack’s left hand with her left hand. “Commence the tangling.”

With my free hand, I grab onto Leven’s, while everyone else around us reaches over and tries to grab hands with the minimal amount of grumbling. At least the objective here is to tangle together, because that is exactly what happens. I think Alexander purposefully grabs onto one of Jackie’s hands, which, to her displeasure, only has the realization until after there’s a mass of arms above their intertwined hands.

“Now what?” Amandla asks after we’re all closer than we ever thought we’d be in 2017.

“Now we untangle ourselves before twenty minutes goes by,” Jen replies. “And you can’t let go of anyone’s hands, or we have to start over. All the way over.”

Already I see this not going well.

Instead of untangling ourselves any, I think we only make things that much more complicated. Jackie and Josh take the leads in dictating where each of us ought to go, and how we ought to move, which meets varied reception from all of us. Some of their ideas work, and others absolutely do not. Whatsoever.

“Isabelle is going to have to get out from between Jackie and Alexander somehow, they need to be beside one another.”

“That might not be a good idea, I value my life a little more than that.”

Josh looks across the circle at me. “Izzy, how good are your limbo skills?”

My eyes narrow. “Um, not very.”

“Y’know, it’s a very good thing we didn’t do this where some of you weren’t allowed to talk.”

“You want us to complete this before we ring in the New Year, right?”

“Okay, on what fucking solar system do you expect me to be able to dive between the tiny gap that yours and Dayo’s arms create?” Jack asks Josh after he makes the suggestion, his eyes narrowing.

“Well, we gotta get you through here somehow, dude.”

“We can just not and say we did, thank you very much.”

“Guys, time is running out!” Jen warns.

Willow rolls her eyes. “Jen, you’re deluded to think we can do this in under two hours, much less twenty minutes.”

“I believe in you guys,” she argues. Dayo snorts.

“Well that is some misplaced faith, sister.”

We don’t beat the twenty minutes, of course, but Jen insists we keep on going until we figure it out. After an extra twenty minutes of the human knot comes the hypothetical plane crash, where we have to work together to think of what twelve items within Jen’s basement we’d find most useful in the case we were all stranded on a desert island. After that comes the game of three truths and a lie, which is about as disastrous as one could expect – we spend a solid ten minutes debating on whether or not Alexander accidentally told two lies instead of just the one, and I lose my appetite upon learning much more about the sex lives of my former costars than I would ever care to know. Jen finally lets us break for lunch after that, which is subpar due to the fact that she wasn’t anticipating a blizzard to trap us here and prevent Dominos from delivering. The only bright spot is the Christmas cookies that are low in number and in high demand. I come close to breaking one of Jack’s fingers trying to get the last one.

As Josh goes around and collects our trash, Jen starts up with yet another prelude to what I can only imagine is an equally as horrific as the others we’ve been subjected to.

“Okay, I think the next thing on my list was the blindfolded maze—”

Alexander raises his hand. “Uh yeah, I can tell you right now that blindfolding me and sending me on a journey of disorient ain’t gonna end well, can we push that one back?”

“Or just not do it at all?” Jackie adds hopefully.

Jen’s face draws up into full-blown resting bitch mode. “We’re doing it, Emerson. But,” she concedes, her shoulders slouching. “I guess we could do something a little less action-y.”

“That would be splendid,” Dayo remarks.  

“Can we do nap time?” Josh asks, lifting his hand in question. “Because I think we’d all be in agreement that naptime is the perfect bonding experience – we’re all in one another’s presence while we sleep relatively peacefully.”

“Naps are for chumps.”

“Says the girl who fell asleep standing against a tree.”

Jen rolls her eyes, taking a sip from her water bottle. “Okay, so this next bit is called the purposeful mingle.”

The guys all groan at that. “Purposeful mingle?” Alexander whines.

“I already know all of you, why do I need to mingle and more importantly, why does it have to be purposeful? There’s nothing purposeful about mingling!” Dayo insists. “The two contradict one another entirely!”

Out from her back pocket – I’m really going to have to ask Jen where on earth she bought these sweatpants, because these pockets have to be bottomless pits – Jen withdraws two Camp Hi-Ho bandanas and holds them out. “I can always blindfold you,” she offers. Dayo shuts his mouth very quickly, and Jen smiles.

“Purposeful mingling,” she says. “Blaine told me he had to do this once at a leadership development thingy and that it was utter bullshit, but I figured out a way that we can make it fun.”

Under his breath, Jack mutters, “Heroin would be more fun.”

“I may or may not have stolen part of this from One Tree Hill, but basically I’m gonna pair all of you losers up with someone that you don’t see all the time—" Jen shoots a pointed look at Jackie and Jack, to which they both react with a frown “—and you’re gonna mingle. Purposefully. Anywhere in the house. Just talk about stuff, bond and shit! The person who I think has the most purposeful mingling is gonna win something spectacular,” she promises.

“And how are you gonna determine who mingles the most…purposefully?” Willow asks.

“Like I’m gonna tell you – you morons cheat the system enough as it is. I gotta keep some cards up my sleeve.” She begins to look around our little circle, cogs whirring as she tries to decide who to pair up. I can already kiss any hopes of being with Jackie a fond farewell.

“Okay,” she says slowly, lifting her pointer finger. “Dayo and Jack. Amandla and Josh. Willow and Jackie. Isabelle and Alexander.” Jackie begins to mutter something rather colorful under her breath. Alexander’s already got his eyes locked on me, a hopeful smile on his face when he catches my glance. “And then me and Levvy.”

“You said we can go anywhere in the house?” Josh repeats for clarification.

“Yes,” Jen replies, and then she backtracks a little. “Well, anywhere within reason.” Her eyes then drift over towards Alexander. “I don’t need to see the future youth of America in the contraception stage when I come to gather you all for the regroup.”

From beside me, Jackie’s face is fifty shades of murder as she gleefully assists Jen in shooting Alexander a warning glare. He merely rolls his eyes.

“For fuck’s sake, you people act like I don’t know how to keep it in my pants.”

“You don’t,” Amandla replies, masking it in a cough.

Jen claps her hands, breaking up the conversation. “Alright people, get to mingling. Purposefully! But not too purposefully, Isabelle-and-Alexander-in-particular!”

As I stand up, tugging down the hem of my shirt, I tell Jackie, “You know, maybe the whole hypothermia and frostbite situation won’t be that bad.”

She simply lifts both of her eyebrows, as if to say, ‘I told you.’

Alexander is quick to meet me halfway, rubbing at his chin sheepishly. “They’re insane,” he mutters quietly, what I suppose is his apology on the rest of our nutcase friends’ behalves.

“You’re just now figuring that out?”

His hands burrow down into the pockets of his jeans as he glances around the room, watching as everyone else scatters and Jen and Leven set up camp in the corner of the room. “Where do you wanna go to do this thing?” he asks me.

“I might have an idea or two.”

                                                              ...

“Okay, I don’t know anything about women’s fashion, but this cannot be Jen’s.”

“I don’t even think that could be her mother’s.”

Alexander looks down at the sweater he’s held up to his chest, another laugh falling from his lips. “I wonder if they’d notice if it went missing – this would win me every ugly sweater contest there ever was.”

“You mean ugly Christmas sweater?” I try to correct, my hands fiddling with the rogue lid of a shoebox.

“No, Isabelle, I mean ugly sweater. All of them. This is their king.” Alexander returns it back to the rack in the same place we pulled it from before sitting down cross legged in front of me. “What made you think of coming in here again?”

I shrug. “Tell me, if you were a rabid, anti-Alexbelle Jackie looking to keep an eye on the two of us, where’s the last place you’re gonna think to look?” He concedes, tilting his head towards me. “I dunno, I figured we’d get a little privacy in the master closet, no successful spying attempts occurring for the first few minutes anyways.”

To that, Alexander rolls his eyes. “I’m sure Amandla and Josh have already made it their personal mission to sniff us out.”

“Them or Dayo one.”

A shadow falls over Alexander’s face, and I instantly want to withdraw that statement. It’s so easy to forget that Dayo is a raw nerve for Alexander and vice versa – it’s incredibly easy seeing as how I don’t know the full story behind that. “Why do you think they’re so hung up on the thought of us being together?” I try to reroute the conversation, my voice a little higher than usual.

“They probably bought into that huge fucking fanfiction craze back in the day. Surely you remember that.” His voice is a little lighter, which I’m taking as a good sign.

“How can I forget? I’m the one who sent you links to them half the time,” I tease, cracking a half-smile.

“Will literally followed them for years,” he continues. “I caught her reading one when we went out to lunch one day.”

“Will and Mandla might as well have championed that craze,” I muse. “I still remember the texts I got from them when that Castro posted that stupid list.”

“You know I’m sorry about that, right?” Alexander says softly, and once again, I have singlehandedly managed to derail the conversation to a place I really wasn’t expecting to go to.

I wave my hand around in dismissal. “Yeah,” I say. “Yeah, of course. It’s water under the bridge, Zander. That happened so long ago…”

“I know, but it doesn’t change the fact that that was super shitty of them and it changed things between us. They knew what they signed up for when Nic got involved with me, the whole fan thing – I told them that they had a thing for the two of us together and it never meant anything other than them just being passionate about something fictional. Still pissed her off though.”

“That wasn’t why you two broke up though, right?” I ask nervously.

He shakes his head, scoffing lightly. “Nah. Nic was an iceberg. We might have had a tiny problem on the surface, but it extended miles beneath it.” His shoulders fall as he sighs. “The relocation Vikings wanted out of me wasn’t something she wanted to commit to, amongst other things.”

My eyebrows furrow together. “Other things?”

When Alexander’s eyes meet mine, I start to feel little punches right to my diaphragm. The vulnerability reflecting in them is the same as if he was standing here in front of me naked – not the kind in which he frequents, but the kind where he’s entirely exposed. No little schticks to hide behind. “Life, I guess,” he admits. “Being the dudebro douchebag can’t last forever, y’know? I burned out with that act faster than I got started with it, it just…wasn’t really me. And that was what she wanted, the parties, the sex, the alcohol, all of that. But I wanted to mature up. Get serious with work, do something that gave me the leeway to get married and have kids.”

If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear my ears were deceiving me. I try not to let the shock color my face as I speak. “Is that still what you want?”

One of his hands drags down his jaw, and his eyes cast back down at the carpet. “Yeah, ‘course it is. I’m ready for that.”

“But?”

“But,” he sighs. “I just don’t feel like I’m…I don’t know. I still don’t feel like I’m in the right place for it, even after ditching all the dead weight I possibly could. Everything I do just feels like one misstep after the other.”

“Hey, that’s not true,” I insist, reaching out and resting my hand on the top of his knee. “As far as I’m concerned, the only missteps you ever took were Liv it Up and Grownups 2.”

Blue eyes flit back up at me. “I was an idiot, huh?”

“Please, this might as well be the cohort of idiots,” I reassure him. “We’ve all done stupid stuff.”

“Gimme a break – you’re perfect, Belle.”

“And you’re full of shit.” One of my eyebrows raises as I grin. “Wanna hear a secret?”

“Isabelle Fuhrman has secrets?” Alexander asks incredulously, and I roll my eyes.

“I’m gonna retract the offer,” I warn.

He shakes his head, sliding a little closer to me. “No, tell me. I’m all ears.”

“Airplane,” I tell him bluntly. He stares at me puzzled.

“Airplane?” It doesn’t seem to click with him as he repeats it out loud, and I give him a pointed look. Even if he didn’t want to, he took away more from the dudebro douchebag act than I think he realizes, seeing as how he can’t take a damn hint or comprehend loaded statements. It takes a second for what I’m actually saying to arrive on his doorstep, and the look on his face when it comes to him is priceless. His face lights up, a shocked laugh echoing through the closet. “Isabelle Gretchen Fuhrman,” he gasps.

“It wasn’t like...the whole shebang,” I clarify. “Just almost.”

“I don’t know who you are anymore,” he says in the midst of what I hope is feigned shock. “Never in a million years would I have ever thought—”

“Yeah, well, welcome to the year 3000,” I tease.

Alexander wallows in his surprise for a minute, the two of us just breaking out into laughs about it once he regains control over his ability to emote beyond wide eyes and jaw dropped. Our bubble is popped right about the time someone starts knocking on the door. “Go away, Jackie!” I call out.

It’s Jen who yells from the other side of the door. “Are your clothes on?”  

“Oh my god,” I groan. “Yes.”

“She’s lying!” Alexander yells out, and I swiftly deliver a punch to his shoulder. “Jesus, you can still pack a punch.”

“Magic, I guess.”

Jen cracks open the door, sliding in a tiny little polaroid camera before shutting it back. “You guys are the last ones to get it – take a cute little picture of each other however you best see fit to commemorate, and for the love of god, if you do nudes—”

“—we are not—“

--definitely gonna do nudes—”

“—then please retrieve them and hide them where I will never be able to see them. Ever. Just bring it with you when you come downstairs, we’re meeting back up in ten.”

I scoot back on the carpet, grabbing the camera as I hear Jen’s footsteps recede away from the closet door. “Take a polaroid to commemorate our time in this stupid walk-in closet,” I repeat, turning the camera over a few times in my hands.

“Oh, I’ve already got a great idea for yours,” Alexander insists, hand expectant as he reaches out for the camera. “Gimme, Fuhrman.”

I sit with my hands in my lap as I wait for him to take the picture, and he very quickly shakes his head. “No, no, no. You aren’t getting off that easy.” He stands up, perusing through the aisles of clothes around us, and all I can do is watch him confusedly. “Was Jen’s grandma a flight attendant in a past life?” he asks, eyes sparkling as he glances back at me.

“Alexander,” I hiss, eyes growing wide as I realize where he’s taking this. “Stop it.”

“Put this on,” he finally says, holding out a navy blazer, pencil skirt and a pair of black heels.

“You’re fucking insane.”

“It’s adorable when you swear,” he comments. “And it’s not like anyone’s ever gonna see this aside from me anyways. I’ll just lie and tell Jen that we did the nudes.”

“Alexander!”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Seriously though. No one’s gonna see this. I might put it in my wallet or some shit though, just to…y’know. Commemorate.”

“You’re ridiculous,” I grumble as I slip off my jeans and switch it out for the pencil skirt. The blazer covers up my white sweater alright, and the heels are two sizes too big – I feel exactly how I look, like a little girl playing dress up in someone’s closet. Alexander also finds me a tie from the men’s side of the closet, helping me tie it around my neck before backing up a little.

“Oh yeah, definitely the flight attendant aesthetic. This is so going in my wallet.”

I frown, flipping him off.

“C’mon, Belle, lighten up. Strike a stupid pose or some shit,” he persuades.

I figure I have nothing to lose – if anything, Alexander will forget where he even puts this picture. So I force an overly cheerful smile onto my face, giving a little two fingered salute as I pop my hip out. He laughs as he takes the picture. “Gorgeous,” he compliments playfully.

“If that ends up on Instagram, I will bury you,” I threaten as I kick off the heels.

I shimmy out of Jen’s mom’s clothes, who I hope will never notice that they’ve been disturbed, Alexander putting them back up on their hangers while we wait for the picture to develop. “You gonna get your payback on me?” he asks.

My lips purse together as I sift through a few potential ideas, most of which involve just that. “Mm, nah,” I finally settle. “I’ll think of how to do that later.”

“Oh god,” he mutters. “That might be even worse.”

“Okay, shut up and do as I tell you.”

I position Alexander where I want him and he does so without complaint – a much better model than I will ever be – and I raise the camera up to my face. “Gorgeous,” I mimic him, lowering my voice as I press down on the button. He breaks into laughter right as I do so, and I already know that that’s exactly how the picture will develop.

When we leave the closet and start to head back downstairs to the basement, the polaroid of Alexander is tucked safely into the back pocket of my jeans, far away from Jackie’s prying eyes. She swoops in right next to me when she spots me walking past the kitchen, which is apparently where she and Willow stayed the entire time. “How was it?” she whispers.

“It was fine.”

“Any attempt of penetration?”

My jaw drops a little, and I shove her. “Jacqueline!”

“What?!” she protests. “I had to ask!”

The vibe in the room seems to have shifted a little, some of the edge deriving mostly from hostility having dissipated. We all go back to sitting against the wall, Jen leaning up against the pool table and messing with the cue ball while she waits for us to get settled and shut up.

“Alright Jen, I purposefully mingled my ass off,” Dayo tells her. “How are you picking the winner?”

“See?” she muses to no one in particular. “You guys are so much more motivated when there’s a tangible incentive involved – I should have done this three team building exercises ago.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

Jen pushes a piece of hair out of her face, peeling her body off of the edge of the pool table. “Okay, kiddos. I want to see how much purpose you actually mingled with. Everyone’s going to go around and tell one fun fact that they learned about their partner. Person with the most interesting, not-surface level fact gets a check for a thousand dollars.”

Jack begins to choke on the very air he’s breathing.

“A thousand dollars?! For a fun fact?”

Jen looks like the cat that ate the singing canary as she nods. “Yep. So you better make it good, motherfuckers.”

“Do I get a thousand dollars if I pretend to like this whole team building shit?” Dayo asks, Jen’s face quickly falling.

“No. I only bust the checkbook out for worthwhile bribes.” She then wildly gestures towards all of us. “Somebody go!”

The thousand dollars on the table most definitely changes the vibe in the room – this is the first time since we realized we had the curtain pulled over our eyes that we’re actually on board with this whole get-together. Everyone is so excited about this, in fact, that we all start talking over one another.

“Dayo got drunk at a Shades of Blue wrap party and sang Jenny from the Block in front of J-Lo!”

“Dude!”

“Jackie’s on a first name basis with the president of Germany!”

“Amandla babysat Blue Ivy!”

“Josh was still sitting on a phone book to reach the gas pedal his senior year of high school!”

“Isabelle almost joined the mile-high club!”

I’m so prepared to spring everyone with the little tidbit that Ludwig, Manwhore Extraordinaire actually wants to settle down in the next year or two and have kids and watch that thousand-dollar check come my way that I almost miss Alexander’s voice shouting out the fun fact about me. Almost.

It’s Jackie’s turn to choke on the very air she’s breathing, her head whipping in my direction so fucking fast that I don’t know how her neck breaks. I, however, beat her to the punch.

“Excuse me!?” I screech, the room going deathly silent. The gravity of what sort of mistake this has been hits both Alexander and Jen square in the face the minute my voice rings out in the quiet, Jen slowly backing up into the pool table and making her way underneath it so it serves as cover. No number of zeroes is going to deliver us from this level of hell.

“Belle—”

“Dude, too far.” Jack says quietly, shaking his head. “The sex life is always off limits.”

Jackie is nearly purple in the face as she spits out the words at Alexander like they’re knives. “With who, you?”

“Jackie, get a fucking grip, of course not,” I snap, only letting my eyes stray from her for a second before I round back on Alexander. “That was personal, Ludwig.”

“I know, I know,” he starts to backtrack. “I’m sorry, Belle, it just…slipped.”

Everything that happened in the closet between us is beginning to slide down a very slippery slope, becoming more and more lackluster by the second. Leave it to Ludwig to ruin it. Should have seen it coming, really. “Just slipped,” I repeat dully. “That’s wonderful. Really.”

“I’ll give you the thousand dollars, I swear—”

“I will set fire to your bank account, Jennifer, if you pay him.”

“I like you better anyways, Belly,” Jen rushes to confirm. I nod, pulling myself off of the ground and dusting off my hands. I start walking around the room, rummaging through random trunks and drawers along the wall lined with cabinets.

“What are you looking for?” Leven asks me. “Ludwig’s sanity is nowhere to be found, babe.”

“I can hear you!” Alexander snaps.

“A knife,” I reply. “I’m curious to see how well my skills have held up after all this time.”

And with that, team building activities for the rest of the day get postponed. Indefinitely.

[ohdizzy]

Tie Me Down

Pairing: Taehyung/Yoongi (Side! Jimin/Jeongguk) Rating: Mature  Genre: AU, Kidnapping AU (oh my god), Comedy, Semi-Crack, Romance,  Word count: 11,900+ Chapter: 1/2 Summary:

“I’ve just woken up with a fucking splitting headache, to find myself fucking taped to an office chair in a fucking living room that smells like unwashed socks and takeaway food. How am I? How do you think I fucking am?”

“Wow. That’s a lot of f-bombs you’re dropping. Did anyone tell you that you need a healthy dose of positivity?”

In which Yoongi’s life is a parody of Taken and Taehyung is just trying his goddamn hardest not to get arrested.

(“You know, when I think of being kidnapped I think of being trapped and hopeless in a desolate warehouse or something. Seeing as I’m secured to an office chair with scotch tape in what looks to be your living room, I can’t help but be a bit underwhelmed.” AU) 

Read at: ao3, or under the cut! 

“Guys, I just wanted to say that I—I love you guys, and I appreciate t—this so much.”

Yoongi stifles a snort, looking over Namjoon’s disheveled, crying form at Seokjin, jerking his thumb at Namjoon in a can-you-believe-this-guy kind of motion. Seokjin frowns, shaking his head slightly in a don’t-you-dare-say-a-fucking-word kind of way. Two minutes ago, Hoseok and Seokjin were snickering away at the snot bubble forming in Namjoon’s left nostril but the moment Yoongi tries to join in he’s suddenly the asshole.

Figures.

Hoseok makes a soothing sound, patting Namjoon’s head, murmuring comforting words, and Yoongi watches, slightly incredulous, as Namjoon lets out another loud wail, fresh tears leaking out of his swollen, red eyes.

Oh, what a life Yoongi lives.

Min Yoongi, at the ripe age of twenty-three, is currently sitting on the floor of an awfully decorated apartment, comforting said owner of awfully decorated apartment as he has some fucking existential slash quarter life crisis.

What the actual crisis is, Yoongi’s not actually sure of. There wasn’t a lot Yoongi picked up from Namjoon’s incomprehensible blubbering, just a lot of I love yous and fuck the systems, so Yoongi’s been on back petting duty, wisely choosing to shut the fuck up while Seokjin and Hoseok comfort an estranged Namjoon.

But it’s nearing 2AM and while Yoongi loves and cherishes Namjoon, he really loves and cherishes his beauty sleep, too. And when it gets past 10PM on a weekday, Yoongi’s body automatically shuts down. So right now, on this blessed Thursday night, Yoongi’s awake purely because he doesn’t want to be on the receiving end of Seokjin’s wrath if he actually does happen to fall asleep—a possibility that is slowly becoming alarmingly close to reality.

Fortunately for him, Hoseok, bless, seems to be well aware of this and is looking at him with a concerned expression.

“Hey, Yoongi, you should go home. We can handle this.”

Honestly. Bless Jung Hoseok. Bless his beautiful, wholesome soul.

“No, it’s okay, I don’t mind.” Yoongi does mind. He’s lying through his teeth. Please send him home.

Namjoon blinks up at him, and god, he’s such a pitiful sight with tear-stained cheeks and that goddamn disgusting snot-bubble well and truly formed that Yoongi’s heart softens a little and maybe it’s not all that bad if he has to stay behind.

“Y—You should go home,” Namjoon sniffles. “You look like you’re going to pass out. Sorry for making you stay.”

“No, it’s okay, I can stay.”

“Yoongi, you’re literally halfway to the door already. Just go home.” Seokjin rolls his eyes.

“I’ll be back tomorrow, Joon-ah,” Yoongi promises, shrugging on his coat. “I’m sorry I can’t stay here any longer.”

“Get home safely, Yoongi,” Seokjin says, frowning slightly. “There are so many fucking weirdoes these days.”

“Jin, no one is going to mug me.”

Seokjin gives him a skeptical look, pursing his lips. “I wouldn’t be too sure of that.”

“It’s ‘cause you look like a girl from the back,” Namjoon pipes up tearfully. “You’re so tiny and cute.”

“Yeah, the first time we met I nearly hit on you,” Hoseok sniggers.

Yoongi scowls. Seokjin smiles smugly.

It’s a ten-minute walk from Namjoon’s apartment to Yoongi and Hoseok’s shared apartment, but Yoongi’s already to call quits two minutes into the walk. There’s seriously no way anyone actually expects him to haul his dead-beat, emotionally drained ass all the way to his apartment.

He reckons by this point someone could club a fry pan over his head and he probably wouldn’t notice. Honestly, he’s just ready to go home, take a hot shower, put on his bed socks, and get the fuck to sleep.

(Apparently, though, Life has other plans for him. It’s always fucking him. Give Yoongi a break.)

It starts off as a small noise Yoongi chooses to ignore. A niggling feeling in his stomach. The strange feeling that he’s being watched.

Yoongi quickens his pace, and suddenly, he’s not so tired anymore, and he quietly curses Seokjin to hell and back for jinxing him. Suddenly, his ridiculous claims of mugging don’t sound ridiculous anymore.

There’s a noise that’s slowly gradually getting louder and it’s not until the sound is really fucking close does Yoongi realize that it’s the sound of someone running towards him at full speed.

Okay, cue panic.

“What the f—”

“I’M SOORRRRRY,” a loud voice, shrill with panic and adrenaline interrupts him, before something blunt hits him on the head, hard.

You know when he said that a fry pan could hit him and he wouldn’t notice? Min Yoongi would like to whole-heartedly retract that comment, because damn if that didn’t hurt like a motherfucker.

“Fuck.”

Ever so eloquent, Yoongi manages to catch a glimpse of what looks like a fucking watermelon hovering in his line of sight before the sharp throbbing in his head becomes too much and he blacks out.

There’s a dull, insistent throbbing in the back of Yoongi’s head that draws him from the depths of unconsciousness. The pain gets sharper and sharper and he lets out a little whine, hoping that Hoseok will come and shove a pillow under his head or something to make the pain go away so he can go back to sleep, but his limbs feel heavy and water-logged, the way one might feel after an entire day of working out. Which is unusual, considering Yoongi is basically allergic to any form of physical exercise.

He reaches up to rub at his eyes—well, he tries to anyways. Something’s binding him painfully to something that is most certainly not his extra cushiony king-single, and panic seizes in his chest as reality crashes down on him. Yoongi’s eyes fly open, his eyebrows automatically pinching together in fear and confusion.

Min Yoongi, at the ripe age of twenty-three, is no stranger to waking up in strange places. Hoseok might poke fun at him and tell him he’s got the soul of an eighty-year-old man, but Yoongi’s seen some crazy shit back in the day when he was Young, Wild and Free.

From waking up in an empty parking lot wearing nothing but a dirty cloth placed strategically over his Yoongi Junior and bright pink nipple tassels with no recollection whatsoever of what happened the night before, to waking up all the way in some fancy Gangnam apartment with some girl he’s never seen before telling him she’s going to introduce him to her parents, Yoongi feels like he’s seen—and been through—it all.

So it’s really, really something, when Yoongi wakes up and is surprised. Honest to God, hand on your heart kind of surprised.

Because he really, really does not know how to react to being taped down with copious amounts of scotch tape to a rickety office chair in what looks like a fucking living room of who Yoongi is going to assume to be some college student, based on the half-eaten bowls of jjajjangmyeon and jjampong littered on a messy coffee table and the mess of twisted wires and consoles underneath a huge plasma TV.

Yoongi sits there in literal shock for a few seconds, trying to process what the everloving fuck is going on, when his eyes fall on a lamp—one shaped oddly like a watermelon.

A watermelon. A watermelon had knocked him out.

And then it hits him—kidnapped.

Yoongi is fucking kidnapped. Someone had looked at Yoongi and decided to kidnap him. Someone had looked at his dead-ass, disheveled form and thought, ‘ah. This is the one. The one I’m going to fucking kidnap’. What the fuck.

When Yoongi thinks of being kidnapped, he thinks of being trapped, hopeless, in a seedy warehouse with faceless thugs surrounding him, blood dripping dramatically from his temple as he takes beating after beating heroically.

Maybe he’s seen too many movies, but Yoongi really can’t help but feel underwhelmed. Because who the fuck thinks of sitting on a swivel chair, staring at a funky-looking cactus, nursing a headache that feels kinda like a hangover when they think of being kidnapped?

He’s waiting for the panic, the overwhelming sense of anxiety and dread, to kick in, but… nothing. Well and truly nothing. Maybe a little annoyance.

A timid cough sounds in the living room, startling Yoongi and alerting him to another presence. With difficulty, he slowly swivels around towards the sound, grunting with exertion. When he finally manages to turn around, his eyes immediately fall on a tall, slender figure standing on the other side of the room. When Yoongi drags his eyes up the kidnapper’s body, finally settling on his face, Yoongi is a little surprised to note that his kidnapper isn’t some deranged psychopath, but someone kinda… cute.

With soft-looking blond hair that falls over his eyes, pretty lips, and huge, doe eyes staring back at him, he looks like something out of a magazine. Yoongi’s kind of annoyed at this—if his kidnapper had been some old, balding man maybe it would have been easier to be scared. Or pissed. Yoongi’s just kind of annoyed and tired right now.

He starts to slowly approach Yoongi, holding something before him like a weapon, like Yoongi’s in any state to leap out and suddenly attack his kidnapper. Yoongi can’t help the snort that escapes him when he sees what the kidnapper is holding. It’s a butter knife. A fucking butter knife. He’s holding a butter knife threateningly towards Yoongi like it could actually stop him, if Yoongi ever happens to break free from his sticky bonds.

His kidnapper stops right in front of Yoongi, the hands holding onto the butter knife trembling. Up close he looks even younger than Yoongi had thought. And cuter. And Min Yoongi doesn’t just throw out the word cute.

But all of his cuteness goes flying out the window the minute he opens his mouth.

“Hello,” He says timidly. “How are you?”

Yoongi’s brain kind of just… breaks.

He’s tired, he’s emotionally exhausted, and now, he’s fucking tied down to a chair with some weirdo (who’s also unfairly cute and hot) asking how he is. How is he? How is he? He’ll tell him just how he is.

“Oh, I don’t fucking know,” Yoongi spits out scathingly. The boy takes a step back, his expression contorting into one of alarm and a tiny bit of Yoongi feels a little bad, but the majority of his sleep-deprived mind doesn’t even feel one ounce of remorse, and his kidnapped ass is not having any of it, cute boy or not.

“I’ve just woken up with a fucking splitting headache, to find myself fucking taped to an office chair in a fucking living room that smells like unwashed socks and takeaway food, with a fucking stranger pointing a fucking butter knife in my fucking face. How am I? How do you think I fucking am?”

Yoongi’s chest is heaving by the end of his mini-explosive rant. He glares fiercely at his kidnapper for extra measure. The kidnapper who had listened to his rant with huge, alarmed eyes, kind of looks like he’s about to pass out now. Yoongi’s not too sure how he feels about this.

“Wow,” The boy says in a tiny voice. “That’s a lot of f-bombs you’re dropping, hyung. Did anyone tell you that you need a healthy dose of positivity?”

Yoongi’s eye twitches.

“Hyung? What the fuck, you don’t know me, don’t call me hyung! I don’t fucking need positivity in my fucking life, I need you to tell me what the fuck is happening! And—fucking stop pointing that goddamn butter knife in my face!” Yoongi is kind of pissed now, but he’s mostly super annoyed. Like. Super annoyed. Like, raising-his-voice kind of annoyed.

“Okay, chill, I’m sorry!” His kidnapper says hastily, hiding the butter knife behind his back. “I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t completely necessary, but it is! So I’m doing it. I’m broke, right? In fact hyu—”—his kidnapper shoots a nervous glance at Yoongi before continuing—“I’m so broke that I’ve had to resort to illegal means. So. I’m ransoming you, haha! So please tell me your details so I can contact your parents.”

Yoongi shoots his kidnapper the dirtiest glare he can muster. Which is quite dirty, if he’s being completely honest. “What the fuck is wrong with you. Are you on drugs or something?”

“Nope!” His kidnapper lets out a nervous laugh. “Only the adrenaline running through my veins. You know. From fear.”

“This is fucking fucked up, fuck you, fuck this, what the fuck.”

“Please stop glaring at me, Yoongi hyung. I’m already terrified as it is—I’ve never actually done anything illegal in my entire life. Unless you count that time I stole a cucumber from the mart when I was six, but you should’ve seen my grandmother when she fo—”

“Wait. Hold up. How the fuck do you know my name?”

His kidnapper stops in the middle of his rambling, looking distinctly like a deer caught in the headlights. He lets out a sheepish laugh. “Well. I may or may not have looked through your wallet, but I—”

“What?!”

The boy flinches, raising his hands defensively. “I didn’t steal anything!” He protests. “I’m not that kind of person!”

Yoongi arches an eyebrow. “Okay. You don’t steal, but you did kidnap me? That’s alright in your books?”

The boy giggles. He actually fucking giggles. This is no time for giggling. “But that’s like. Not as bad as stealing. It’s bad, yeah, but stealing? That’s a no-no.”

“How the fuck—are you hearing yourself right now?” Yoongi groans, rolling his eyes. He tries to sit upright, looking his stupid-ass kidnapper in the face. “Kidnapping is stealing, you fucking walnut! You’re stealing me!”

The expression that dawns on the kidnapper’s face is priceless. Yoongi suddenly doesn’t mind being kidnapped, because that expression, that absolute dumbfounded, shell-shocked expression on his kidnapper’s face is worth it. Well and truly worth it.

Yoongi’s not sure how, but even in this situation—tied up and unable to move—Yoongi still has the upper hand. He supposes it’s like, compensation for being kidnapped.

“Holy fuck!” The boy shouts so suddenly Yoongi startles so hard he nearly flips the chair backwards, and wobbles precariously for a heart-stopping second before he regains his balance.  “I fucking kidnapped someone. I actually kidnapped someone. I’m Kim Taehyung, the boy who helps old people across the road, not Kim Taehyung the kidnapper! Oh my God, oh my God, I’m—I’m—fuck!”

Okay Yoongi’s a little worried now. And it’s not so funny anymore—not when it looks like the poor fucker is about to pass out. He’s hyperventilating, his face as white as sheet and as funny as it was to Yoongi maybe ten seconds ago, he kind of needs his kidnapper to be conscious if he wants to ever get out of these fucking bonds.

His kidnapper dramatically drops to his knees, facing the wall across from him, barely paying attention to Yoongi as he howls into his hands in what Yoongi supposes is intense regret. He would be kind of fascinated if he weren’t so worried, because it looks as though he’s reenacting a K-drama all by himself. It’s pretty impressive, actually.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Yoongi says soothingly. He can’t believe he’s comforting his kidnapper, out of all people.

His kidnapper—Kim Taehyung—turns to him, his eyes as huge as saucers. “I’m—I’m a good person and I’ve fucking kidnapped someone! I was going to ransom your parents! Your parents, hyung! Oh my god, what would my parents say? What would your parents think?! How could I even think about putting them through that?!”

To Yoongi’s shock, Taehyung’s eyes are shining with unshed tears. Yoongi really feels like he’s trapped in a fucking K-drama. Only in a K-drama could it be so dramatic.

“Hyung,” Taehyung whispers, clutching at Yoongi’s tape-clad body tightly. Yoongi tries not to roll his eyes at the honorifics. “What should I do?”

“Here’s a fucking idea: let me go.”

But Taehyung’s already turning away from Yoongi, pulling out his phone, talking absentmindedly to himself. “My best friend will know what to do. He’s so smart, he’s studying medicine.”

Yoongi can see over Taehyung’s shoulder as he clicks on a name. Taehyung’s own face pops up on screen as he waits tearfully for his best friend to answer his FaceTime. After five long rings, Taehyung’s friend finally picks up and the screen opens to a sleepy-looking dark haired kid.

He looks even younger than Taehyung, from what Yoongi can make out, but he looks well and truly pissed at being woken up.

“Kim Taehyung,” The dark haired boy groans down the phone. “It’s fucking 7AM on a Friday morning, are you seriously for real right now?”

The boy makes a loud rustling sound, turning his head, and Yoongi can make sight of a smaller, blond haired male lying in bed behind the dark-haired boy. The blond whines, snuggling up to the brunet.

“Sorry baby,” The dark-haired boy whispers softly to the other. “Go back to sleep.”

He turns around so he’s facing the camera again, his expression agitated. “You woke up Jimin, you shit.”

“Jeongguk,” Taehyung bellows, seemingly uncaring for the fact that his supposed best friend’s boyfriend is sleeping. “I might honestly go to jail because I might get arrested, but you’re gonna bail me out right? Right? You’re not gonna let me rot in jail, right? You know what they do to pretty faces like mine!”

“Jail? What the fuck have you done this time, Kim Taehyung?!”

“I’ve done something really, really illegal. And I actually might go to jail, I’m not fucking kidding. And real-life jail, Jeongguk! Not fake-jail!”

The dark haired kid’s eyes widen and he reaches behind him to shake the other awake. “Hyung—Jimin, Taehyung might go to jail! Not fake-jail, but real-life jail!”

Fake-jail? Real-life jail? Yoongi is seriously dealing with a bunch of six-year-olds.

The blond’s eyes open groggily, and he reaches for the phone. “Tae? You okay? Why are you going to jail?”

“Jimin,” Taehyung moans. “I fucked up so bad.”

“Couldn’t have been that bad,” His friend soothes him. “What happened, Taetae?”

“I—I fucking kidnapped someone, that’s what I fucking did! I honest to God kidnapped someone and I’m going to go to jail.” Taehyung’s voice is high-pitched with hysterical panic. “Look—look, I’m not kidding! Yoongi hyung, say hello!”

Taehyung angles the camera over his shoulder towards Yoongi, and Yoongi is met with an eyeful of Taehyung’s two extremely naked friends peering in shock into the tiny camera.

“Fuck off.”

His dark haired friend snatches the phone back, his eyes wide in shock, while the blond makes a disbelieving noise. “Taehyung why the fuck did you kidnap someone?!”

“Because you suggested it, asshole!”

“Dude, I was joking.”

“Well I didn’t know that! You need to distinguish your sarcastic voice and your normal voice better, they sound exactly the same!”

“You fucking idiot, I was joking, let him go right fucking now!”

Suddenly, his blond friend’s face is taking up the entire screen, an apologetic expression gracing his features.

“Sunbae, I’m so, so sorry,” He apologises smoothly. “I apologise deeply on behalf of our friend, please don’t call the police on him. He’s deeply misguided and extremely sleep-deprived because of his major, please understand. He’s probably running on less than five hours of sleep this entire week. And that’s a lot of sleep for our Taehyungie.”

“I don’t really care at this point, I just want to go home,” Yoongi growls.

“Yes, of course!” His blond friend agrees immediately. “Taetae, let him go and say sorry and then forget this ever happened, alright?”

“Okay,” Taehyung agrees easily, throwing an uneasy glance at Yoongi over his shoulder. “I gotta go. I’ll call you guys later.”

After hanging up, Taehyung eyes Yoongi warily. “Do you promise you won’t leap out and attack me when I cut you loose?”

“Yes,” Yoongi says, exasperated. “Now let me go before I really get annoyed.”

Taehyung doesn’t hesitate after that, retrieving a pair of scissors and cutting through the scotch tape. Luckily, Yoongi’s wearing a long coat that covers his skin, so it doesn’t hurt when Taehyung rips the tape away, though he does wince a little when Taehyung accidently digs his scissors into the coat, ripping a small hole in the sleeve. Yoongi and Taehyung stand in front of each other for a short second, sizing each other up awkwardly.

Taehyung’s taller than Yoongi had initially thought—Yoongi barely comes up to his ear—and even though he’s still thin like Yoongi had thought, there’s definitely some kind of definition underneath the thin shirt he’s wearing.

Not that it matters at all. Yoongi’s not checking out the fucking weirdo who kidnapped him. Nope. Not happening.

“Hyung, I’m honestly so sorry, please don’t call the police on me,” Taehyung says earnestly, grasping one of Yoongi’s hands. “I honestly don’t know what came over me, I’m not usually like this, I swear.”

“Stop calling me hyun—you know what, it doesn’t matter,” Yoongi sighs, extracting his hand from Taehyung’s vice grip with difficulty. “Just… don’t kidnap other people.”

It sounds lame, even to Yoongi.

But Taehyung’s nodding along eagerly, his expression solemn. “Oh, yes. Don’t worry, I’m never doing anything like this again. I think the stress I felt knocked about five years off my life.”

Yoongi stifles another sigh at the honorifics. “This is the fucking weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Taehyung smiles sheepishly, guiding Yoongi towards the front door. “Sorry, again. Really. Also you swear. Like a lot.”

“Got a problem with that?”

“Not at all! Just an observation. My friend Jeonggukkie, he swears so much that I—”

As much as Yoongi would love to stick around and find out what happens when his friend Jeonggukkie swears so much, he doesn’t particularly feel like chatting with someone who’d smashed a watermelon lamp over his head.

“I should probably get going now.”

Taehyung halts mid-sentence, and his expression drops for a millisecond before he’s smiling brightly again, and Yoongi can’t help the little twinge of guilt prick his heart. Maybe he shouldn’t have cut him off. It was kind of rude.

(Not that he cares what weirdoes with ugly cactuses think. Yoongi was just brought up better than that.)

“Sorry,” He says quickly. “I’m just really tired and it’s been a long, weird day for me.”

“No, that’s alright! I tend to talk a lot, anyways, so…” Taehyung trails off, swinging his arms awkwardly. He offers Yoongi a smile. “See you around?”

“Um… sure.”

And that is how Min Yoongi from Daegu, aged twenty-three, experiences his very first kidnapping, complete with watermelon shaped lamps, a rickety office chair, copious amounts of shitty tape, and a hole in his favourite winter coat.

Min Yoongi has experienced a lot of strange things in his life, but he thinks that this might really fucking take the cake.

“Jin-ah, how many times do I have to say this,” Yoongi says, exasperated. “Stop trying to parent me. I’m twenty-three, not thirteen.”

“How can I not parent you, Yoongi?” Seokjin’s worried voice comes down the line. Yoongi can hear Namjoon’s obnoxious laughter filtering through the phone, a stark contrast to his uncontrollable sobbing a week ago. “Yesterday I tried cutting up a watermelon and you nearly broke my arm trying to throw the watermelon into the bin. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you act like that before.”

Yoongi wraps his coat around him more tightly as he hurries down the street, his breath coming out in white puffs. “I just…who eats watermelons this time of year, anyways? It’s stupid.”

“My point exactly! Why do you care so much about when I eat a fucking watermelon?!”

“Watermelons are stupid and pointless, that’s why!”

“How are they stu—okay, you know what? I’m not arguing with you about a watermelon. Where are you? It’s nearly midnight.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “I’m on my way home from the library. Group assignment. Seriously, Jin, you need to stop parenting me.”

“Namjoon has a quarter-life crisis at least once a week, Hoseok thinks everything can be solved with a dance battle, and you have weird breakdowns when I cut watermelons. Someone needs to be the responsible one!” Seokjin protests.

Yoongi laughs in spite of himself, opening his mouth to reply when a large noise startles him. He jumps into the air, cursing quietly to himself, before turning around to locate the source of sound. He can hear Seokjin’s voice through the receiver, asking him what’s wrong.

When his eyes land on the source of the sound, his eyes widen in disbelief.

“Um—Jin?” Yoongi says distractedly, standing on his tiptoes, trying to get a better look. “I’m—I’m going to have to call you back later.”

“Yoongi? What—”

But Yoongi’s already hung up, scurrying forward for a closer view, crouching behind a flimsy sapling in the fucking freezing weather, not really believing his eyes.

It’s that fucking Taehyung kid again.

But this time, bless him, he’s not alone. Instead, he’s with a vaguely familiar looking dark haired kid who’s holding up his phone and filming.

Kidnapping is one thing, but seeing the very fucking same kid, not even a week later, standing on top of a cement block, belting out ballad lyrics at the bloody top of his lungs whilst simultaneously doing some odd interpretative dance, while his friend fucking films the whole thing kind of makes Yoongi wonder if he was lucky to escape that fucking apartment with his life intact.

“What the everloving fuck,” Yoongi mutters to himself, edging closer in spite of himself to get a closer look.

It’s nearing midnight on a Sunday night—it’s a wonder no one has lodged a complaint on him or told him to shut the fuck up, at the very least.

Yoongi’s not sure what it is, but it feels like he’s been rooted in his spot, unable to move, or wrench his eyes away from Taehyung’s booty-shaking form. He watches on, incredulous, as Taehyung continues to sing passionately, dancing way too vigorously in a manner that doesn’t match up to the slow pace of the song at all.

The dark haired kid who still looks somewhat familiar, films with a seriousness that Yoongi just can’t fucking comprehend, and the entire situation is just so absurd. The dark haired boy nods seriously adjusting his position every so often so that he has a better angle.

Yoongi thinks things can’t get any fucked up; he really does.

Like, c’mon.

But since Yoongi’s life is slowly devolving into a shitty K-drama, things, of course, get more fucked up. Of course. Taehyung seems to spy something in front of him, because he stops in his tracks, halting mid-song, before letting out a delighted whoop. He bends down, scooping up two large sticks and holding them above his head triumphantly.

Taehyung then proceeds to continue his soulful ballad singing (Yoongi will admit grudgingly that he does have quite a nice voice; one that sounds a little like liquid gold and dark chocolate), whilst banging the sticks against a fucking bin, creating even more of a racket than before.

Yoongi is just coming to the conclusion that this Taehyung kid is, in fact, fucking crazy, and he was indeed lucky enough to escape that apartment when a policeman pops out of nowhere. Amazing. Fantastic. Incredible.

This Taehyung kid is a riot and Yoongi can’t help but laugh in disbelief. Seriously? A policeman? At this time of night? What the fuck. Catching sight of Taehyung’s crooning and banging, the policeman lets out a shout, telling them to halt (he actually says halt and Yoongi is in amazement. Who the fuck even says that.)

Yoongi can’t help but snort at the look of unconcealed panic on both their faces, like they actually thought they could get away with banging against steel bins and singing at the top of their lungs on a Sunday night without any consequences.

“Shit!” Yoongi hears Taehyung yelp. “Jeongguk, shit, shit, shit, run!”

Taehyung and his friend both leap down from the cement block, sprinting away, and Yoongi actually thinks they might make it. But of course not. Of course not. One minute, Taehyung’s sprinting like motherfuckin’ Usain Bolt and Yoongi thinks that they’re actually going to get away, and the next thing he knows he’s watching Taehyung trip over his own fucking feet, faceplanting brilliantly onto the cement ground.

Without even realizing Yoongi’s stood up from his semi-crouch, like he’s actually about to run out and help Taehyung because holy shit if that didn’t look painful as fuck. He can’t even bring himself to crouch back into his uncomfortable squat—partly because it was uncomfortable as fuck—so Yoongi just stands there, his mouth gaping wide open as he watches Taehyung shriek dramatically, flailing around on the floor.

Like he’s in some mediocre K-drama, Taehyung stretches out one hand dramatically towards his friend who stands a good fifty metres away, looking torn.

“Go, my friend, go!” Taehyung cries out (dramatically. So fucking dramatically). “Save yourself! I’ll be alright!”

Yoongi stifles his laughter when his friend starts backing away, jogging backwards, an apologetic expression on his face. Taehyung looks outrageously betrayed despite his previous dramatic urges to save yourself, his mouth wide open in shock, his hand dropping to his side.

“Sorry, Tae!” His friend shouts, backing away even faster. “I’m a fucking scholarship kid, I can’t get arrested! I’ll bail you out if you actually get arrested, I promise! I’m so sorry!”

Taehyung gapes. “You’re actually fucking leaving me? Oh my God, don’t you fucking dare—oh my god, he just did it. He just fucking did it.”

“Did you just see that? My friend literally just ran off and left me here to fend for myself. What the fuck!” Taehyung points in his friend’s direction, shouting obscenities as the policeman hauls him up to his feet.

As if just realizing the dire situation he’s been left in, Taehyung suddenly laughs nervously, backing away from the police officer, his hands raised in defense.

“Sir—hyung, can I call you hyung?” Taehyung smiles charmingly at the policeman who merely looks at him, unimpressed.

“No.”

“Okay—okay I’m sorry, sir. No to hyung, then. Duly noted.” Taehyung nods, frowning like he thought he’d actually be able to successfully sweet talk his way out of this clusterfuck. He backs away, alarmed when the police officer pulls out handcuffs and his eyes widen in alarm. “Woah—woah! No need for those handcuffs, this is all just a misunderstanding, please don’t arrest me—no! No, wait!”

Yoongi sniggers slightly to himself as Taehyung gets handcuffed. “I’m going to need your details, son.”

“Details? What do you need my details for? Sir, can’t you just let me off with a warning? Please, I’m doing this for my major, I major in music! C’mon, don’t be like that, huh! We can call my professor right now if you don’t believe me!”

Yoongi can feel a strange surge of satisfaction run through him. That’s right. Justice served icy cold.

People, he thinks to himself smugly, can’t just kidnap other people and get away with it. What goes around comes around, karma’s a bitch, et cetera, et cetera.

Yoongi feels like he’s seen enough; he nods once to himself, satisfied. If he ever feels like he’s having a bad day, he’ll just think back to this great day and be reassured that his day, cannot, in fact, be worse than Taehyung’s.

In hindsight, everything could have been avoided. Had he not been so drunk with satisfaction, so full of pettiness and just plain old mean, the higher powers probably would’ve shown Yoongi mercy.

But with Yoongi’s life playing out like a fucking K-drama, what did he expect at this point?

Stretching once to get rid of all the kinks in his body from squatting strangely, Yoongi makes to leave, throwing one last look over his shoulder to engrain the image of Taehyung being handcuffed into his mind one last time.

Their eyes meet.

Fucking fuck, fuck, fuck.

Yoongi freezes dead in his tracks as Taehyung’s eyes widen in recognition, his mouth dropping open. He struggles enthusiastically against the police officer’s grip, attempting to wave with both arms at Yoongi.

“What the—ahjussi! That’s my friend!” Taehyung screeches loudly. Fucking crap on a catapult, just let Yoongi die. Throw him into a ditch and leave him to die. “Oh—Oh my god, it’s actually my friend! Yoonjae! Or—or was it Yoonbin? Ahjussi, we’re actually best friends, call him over! My dude, my bro, my pal!”

Please, Yoongi closes his eyes briefly, praying to the based gods. Please don’t call Yoongi over. Please let him leave.

But of course not.

Of course not.

The police officer’s eyes narrow in suspicion before he beckons for Yoongi to come over. Yoongi contemplates making a run for it—he can probably make it if he runs fast enough. Maybe it’s because Yoongi’s tired and therefore his sense of rationality has gone to shits. Or maybe it’s because a tiny part of Yoongi wants to know just how Taehyung plans on getting out of this fucking mess. If he can.

Seriously questioning every choice he’s made in his life, Yoongi finds himself walking towards the handcuffed idiot.

Standing in front of Taehyung, he scoffs a little at the eager, excited expression on Taehyung’s face, like he actually thinks Yoongi is going to make up bullshit about knowing him. Honestly, he should be counting his lucky stars that he’s not outing Taehyung for the law-breaking, kidnapping hooligan he fucking is.

“So,” The police officer starts, looking at Yoongi skeptically. “You know this kid?”

Yoongi’s going to say no. He really is. He even got his name wrong—Yoonjae? Seriously? That’s not even fucking close—and he’s going to walk away coolly and leave this idiot to fend for himself. Because he has to learn the hard way that life can’t be solved by cracking watermelon lamps over people’s heads and demanding ransoms.

Yoongi’s going to say no, and Taehyung must’ve realized this, because his face drops from a goofy, excited smile to a pathetically sad face, his lips twisted down like those Greek tragedy masks.

Yoongi’s going to say no, but Taehyung looks like a kicked puppy—so sad and little and pathetic, even though Yoongi knows for sure that Taehyung is a whole lot taller than him.

Goddamn it.

Goddamn it all to fucking hell.

“Yes,” Yoongi sighs. God-fucking-damn. “I know him. We—we were in the same class.”

Taehyung’s face breaks into a huge grin, his eyes sparkling in the darkness with something Yoongi can’t quite pinpoint. Yoongi’s mouth feels dry. It’s cause he’s nervous. Who wouldn’t be? Lying to the police. Jesus, the things he’s doing for this kid. Honestly.

“Yeah,” Taehyung agrees fervently. “Tell him, Yoojung.”

Yoongi glares at Taehyung, who shrinks back a little, smiling sheepishly. “He’s a good kid, sir. A little weird”—he ignores Taehyung’s protests—“but a good kid. He’s always been a model student, so if he said he was doing this for a project, he’s telling the truth.”

When the police officer looks skeptical, Taehyung turns his puppy dog eyes onto him, pouting cutely. “Sir, I’m so, so sorry. Please let me go, my parents will be so ashamed of me if I have to go down to the police office. Think of my parents, sir! Weren’t you ever a kid, sir? Can’t you show me a little mercy? I promise I won’t ever do it again.”

Yoongi suspects that the little fucker might actually be enjoying himself, and is really fucking milking it for all that it’s worth.

The power of puppy eyes, Yoongi thinks dryly to himself as he watches the police officer visibly melt and fall prey to Taehyung’s aegyo. Even the strongest will fall.

Yoongi restrains himself from snorting when the officer sighs, unlocking the handcuffs. Taehyung rubs his wrists, smiling brightly at the police officer.

“Son, I’m letting you off with a warning. If I ever catch you causing a scene or a racket, I’m going to take you straight to the station, is that understood?”

Taehyung nods solemnly. “Yes sir, I appreciate this so much. Thank you so much, have a great night!”

After Taehyung’s waved the police officer off (literally stood there for a fucking minute waving enthusiastically at the police officer’s retreating form), he turns to face Yoongi, a bright smile on his face.

“So. That went pretty well, didn’t it?”

And that’s how Yoongi finds himself sitting at the campus diner at 1.28AM in the morning, with the fucking weird ass kid who tried to kidnap him, watching in disbelief as he slurps loudly on a strawberry milkshake. The milkshake, by the way, that Yoongi fucking paid for.

After Taehyung’s taken a long, satisfying slurp, he pushes the milkshake a little to the side, resting on his elbows and leaning forward, his lips quirking up into a smile.

“So. Yoo—”

“Yoongi.”

“Sorry?”

“Yoongi. My name is Yoongi. Not Yoonjae, not Yoonjin, Yoongi.”

Taehyung shoots him a strange look. “You’re so odd, Yoongi hyung.”

“Wha—I’m weird? You’re fucking weird!”

“Well I’d rather be weird and memorable than boring and forgettable,” Taehyung says, shrugging cheerfully.

Yoongi opens and closes his mouth. Can’t argue with that logic.

Yoongi clears his throat awkwardly. “Were you really doing that for your major?” He asks gruffly.

Taehyung perks up at that. “Yeah! I actually major in music. This semester we’re learning about music production, so we have to produce a few of our own songs.”

“Why were you banging around on the bins and singing for?”

“Well… I’ve been trying out new styles to see what fits me best. I’ve heard that a lot of people actually use sounds that they hear out and about in their songs, so I’ve been trying to figure out what kinds of sounds I should use. It’s a whole new world to me! So far, I’ve tried to record myself gurgling underwater, the sound of glass breaking, and I tried banging on bins as a replacement for drums, but I still think—sorry, I’m boring you, aren’t I?” Taehyung breaks off mid-sentence, wincing. “People tell me I tend to ramble too much.”

Actually, Yoongi doesn’t mind. He usually doesn’t like it when people talk for too long—seriously, it’s just asking for a headache—but Taehyung talks with such an excitement and passion, it’s hard to get annoyed. Which is weird because Yoongi can get annoyed at anything. It’s kind of a gift.

“No, I don’t mind,” Yoongi says, but Taehyung’s already moved on to another subject.

“I’m sorry for kidnapping you last week,” Taehyung says sincerely. “Desperate times call for desperate measures!”

Taehyung’s chortling away but Yoongi doesn’t really find it that funny (his head is still fucking throbbing).

“It’s not that funny.”

“C’mon, it kinda was! You should’ve seen the look on your face, it was hilarious. I wish I had taken a photo of it.”

“I looked hilarious? You were the one about to shit their fucking pants! I’ve never seen anyone’s facial expression drop that fast my entire life.”

“I wasn’t scared! I was just”—Taehyung waves his hand around, searching for the right word—“nervous.”

“You were so scared, stop lying to yourself.”

“Fine, I was scared. But who wouldn’t be scared? You were glaring at me like you wanted to kill my firstborn child.”

“Wouldn’t you glare at someone who fucking smashed a watermelon-shaped lamp over your head, taped you down to a chair and then ripped a hole into your favourite winter coat?”

“Well actually, I didn’t technically smash the lamp over your head because it’s still intact and as for tape I couldn’t find any rope, even though I did watch several YouTube tutorials on how to do a proper sailor’s knot.”

Yoongi glares at Taehyung, before reaching for his bag and standing up. “Okay, well I’m gonna go then.”

Taehyung makes a noise like a kicked puppy and reaches out for Yoongi, tugging him back down into his seat. “Ah, hyungnim! Don’t be like that, c’mon I’m sorry, don’t go!”

“Fine. But don’t call me hyung anymore. It’s giving me weird flashbacks I’d rather not have.” Yoongi sits back down warily, eyeing Taehyung with trepidation. “Just call me Yoongi.”

“But that’s weird, isn’t it?”

“Why’s that weird?”

“Because… you’re my hyung.”

“Then as your hyung, you should listen to what I say to you, and I’m telling you to call me Yoongi.”

Taehyung opens his mouth to speak, before snapping it shut in resignation. “Can’t argue with that logic. Okay. Yoongi.”

Taehyung fiddles with his straw for a moment before he sets his drink aside and looks up at Yoongi, his eyes wide and sincere. “Anyways. I’m so glad I bumped into you again. Don’t you think that it’s fate?”

Yoongi makes a face. “No. I don’t believe in fate and that kind of bullshit.”

“Oh come on hy—Yoongi! Out of all the places you could’ve been, you just happened to be passing by where I just so happened to be filming, and you just happened to stay while I just happened to get arrested.”

“It was a coincidence.”

“In the wise words of Einstein, the ‘stars don’t lie’,” Taehyung says smugly across the table, shrugging. “Sorry, Yoongi, but we’re obviously just meant to be friends. I don’t make this shit up.”

“Einstein did not fucking say that.”

“He’s said a lot of smart things during his life, I’m sure he said something along those lines at one point. Besides, you’re missing my point—and my point being, obviously, the stars want me to make it up to you. It’s just fate. You can’t fight these things.”

“Make it up to me?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, you didn’t call the police on me and then you saved me from the police. It’s the least I can do; don’t you think? I’ll buy you dinner!”

“Aren’t you broke? That’s why you fucking kidnapped me, isn’t it?” Yoongi deadpans.

“Oh! I’m not actually broke. My boss forgot to pay me, that was all. But he’s already paid me!” Taehyung says brightly before dropping his voice to a raspy whisper and winking greasily at Yoongi, beckoning for him to come closer. “Just call me Daddy Warbucks.”

Yoongi recoils, jerking back like he’s been burnt. Who the fuck even says shit like that. “That’s fucked up, man.”

Taehyung shrugs. “Are you going to say no to free food, though?”

Yoongi thinks about this for a second. Taehyung does have a valid point there. Even Yoongi isn’t below free food. “True.”

“Give me your Katalk details! I’ll text you soon.”

Yoongi hands Taehyung his phone and watches as Taehyung types something rapidly into the search bar, before clicking on his name when it pops up. “Cool. Well, I gotta jet. Jeongguk’s probably wondering whether I’m rotting away in jail right now. I’ll see you soon, Yoongi! Ciao!”

And for the second time in two weeks, Min Yoongi is left wondering what the fuck is going on. 

Yoongi represses the urge to sigh for what feels like the umpteenth time, his pen tapping against his notepad in irritation as he stares at the algorithm on his page with pure, unadulterated hatred.

He’s a fucking idiot for picking mathematical economics, he supposes. He’s not even good at math.

Yoongi’s in the midst of wondering if he can ask someone in his class give him the answers when his phone vibrates, startling him.

TAEHYUNGIE YOONGI!!!!!!!! 9.05pm

Yoongi What 9.06pm

TAEHYUNGIE where u at!!!!! 9.06pm

Yoongi I’m at the library 9.08pm

TAEHYUNGIE what floor u on homie g 9.10pm

Yoongi Wait why do you want to know 9.10pm

TAEHYUNGIE

9.11pm

Yoongi What the hell does that even mean 9.12pm

TAEHYUNGIE it means you’ll regret it if u dnt tell me kekeke 9.13pm

Yoongi -_- 9.15pm

Yoongi 5th floor 9.15pm

The little one next to Taehyung’s name disappears signaling that he’s read it but doesn’t reply after that, leaving Yoongi wondering what the hell that was about. But the algorithms are calling his name, and alas, Yoongi doesn’t really have time to wonder why Taehyung is asking him random questions.

Taehyung’s taken to bombarding Yoongi’s Kakaotalk at a time when no one—Yoongi repeats, no one—should be awake. From random song recommendations to pictures of trees (look how pretty this tree looks!!!!!!!!!! im swooning!!! over a tree haha can u believe!!), Yoongi feels as though he’s now somewhat accustomed to Taehyung’s complete disregard of Yoongi’s sleeping schedule and, as well as his atrocious grammar.

However, these goddamn algorithms aren’t going to solve themselves, so Yoongi tosses his phone aside, grits his teeth, clicks his pen a few more times out of irritation, and tries to get the questions done (preferably before the sun starts to rise).

Yoongi’s not expecting anything—he’s really not. He’s just pegged Taehyung’s seemingly random question to be one out of a long, long list of random questions he’s going to be asked since Taehyung’s deemed that they’re buddies (Taehyung’s words, not Yoongi’s). So it’s kind of saying something when he gets the fright of his life approximately thirty-seven minutes later when he’s glaring down at his paper in frustration one minute, and then looking up straight into Taehyung’s smiling face pushed way too close to Yoongi’s own face for comfort.

Yoongi jerks back, stifling the shout climbing up his throat—because he’s in a fucking library and has something called decency, unlike assholes (read: Hoseok and Namjoon) who think the library is a place of socializing—hand flying up to press dramatically against his chest. He can feel his heart galloping around in his chest in like fucking horse and he’s twenty-three years way too fucking old for this shit. Taehyung seems to have developed the habit of popping up (quite literally) to Yoongi in the most inconvenient of times. Maybe it’s a gift he has.

“What the hell,” Yoongi hisses once his heartbeat has slowed down considerably. “You gave me a goddamn heart-attack.”

Taehyung merely grins as he plops himself down on a spare chair, shoving Yoongi’s carefully alphabetically organized papers to the side before dumping two huge plastic bags onto the table.

“I would say sorry,” Taehyung says, reaching into the bags and pulling out plastic containers stuffed to the brim with food. “But I’m not. And my parents didn’t raise a liar, so.”

Yoongi frowns, surprise coloring his features. He’s not too sure why Taehyung’s suddenly bringing food, but then again, it’s Taehyung. But still.

Yoongi leans back on his chair. “What’s all this?”

“What does it look like? I’m fulfilling my promise. I’ve brought you dinner, because God knows you could use it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat. How can I live, knowing that my friend is withering away like some sad, unwatered flower?”

Yoongi ignores the bullshit of him being some unwatered flower because, well, it’s bullshit. “That’s because the two times we met you were either trying to kidnap me or sweet-talk your way out of being arrested.”

Taehyung pauses, frowning for a second. “Oh shit. Yeah, I forgot about that.”

“How can you forget about kidnapping someone?”

“In the wise words of Ghandi, ‘live for the future, not the past’.”

“Stop making up quotes! You’re turning historical figures into trashy teen romance novels.”

“I’m offended. How dare you.”

“Someone has to set you straight.”

“Well you can insult me as you eat. The food’s getting cold,” Taehyung says, passing Yoongi a pair of chopsticks.

Yoongi  stops dissing Taehyung to appraise the food. From fried chicken to jjajjangmyeon to jjigae, it looks as though Taehyung’s went and bought everything Yoongi might possibly like. Yoongi doesn’t really think much about food—especially when he’s studying, but suddenly he’s ravenous and he digs into the food like he’s been starved.

He’s gotten two mouthfuls of chicken and some noodles in when he remembers his manners.

“Thanks Tae,” He says through a mouthful of food.

Taehyung stabs a piece of chicken with his chopstick. “That’s alright. What are you working on?”

“Equations and shit.” Yoongi swallows his food, taking a sip of the Milkis Taehyung’s produced from the plastic bag that reminds Yoongi of Doraemon’s endless pocket. Seriously. How does he keep producing food like this. “They’re dry-pounding my ass.”

“Equations? Do you study math?”

“Close,” Yoongi says, picking up his chopsticks again. “Mathematical economics.”

Taehyung winces. “Ooh. Sounds rough.”

“Yeah, I’d much rather be doing music. I envy you.”

“Oh?” Taehyung swirls the jjajjangmyeon around and around on his chopsticks. “You like music?”

“Yeah, I—I produce my own music in my spare time.” Yoongi’s not too sure why he’s telling Taehyung this. It’s a private part of his life that even Hoseok, Namjoon, and Seokjin had unintentionally found out about only recently, so he’s not too sure why he’s blurting this out to a near stranger.

Maybe it’s because the black paste has smeared itself all around Taehyung’s mouth and he just looks so harmless slurping away at his noodles. Or maybe it’s because Yoongi’s frazzled, burnt-out brain is just blurting out random shit at this point, and his brain to mouth filter has just gone to shits.

But for what it’s worth, Taehyung looks genuinely interested, perking up instantly and looking at Yoongi with bright eyes. “What? That’s so cool, what the hell! What kind of music do you produce?”

“Oh, like a bit of this, a bit of that,” Yoongi waves his chicken around vaguely. “Mostly rap.”

“Rap?” Taehyung breathes, leaning towards Yoongi on his elbows. “Will you show me sometime? I would love to hear your work.”

Yoongi flushes, rubbing a hand across the back of neck awkwardly. “I—I mean, I guess, if you want. Like it’s really lowkey. Not that big of a deal.”

Taehyung smiles at that, returning to his noodles. “Still. I’m a firm believer that all music should be appreciated. I mean, the artist has gone into the effort of finding a beat, and then a melody, and then writing lyrics on top of that. Who knows how many minutes, hours, days, weeks, they’ve spent on that one piece. The least someone could do is listen to it.”

Yoongi’s a little stumped by the sincerity and seriousness of Taehyung’s words. He blinks.

“Anyways,” Taehyung continues, like he hasn’t just thrown Yoongi off. “How come you’re doing mathematical economics?”

“Uh—parents. My parents wanted me to do something… practical,” Yoongi sighs.

Taehyung frowns. “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. That sucks.”

“Nah it’s alright. They made a deal with me—if I can finish my degree and get a proper job, then I can come back and do music here part-time.”

“Oh swag!”

And just like that, the moment is broken.

“Did you just seriously say ‘swag’.”

Taehyung shrugs happily. “I thought it fitted the moment well.”

Yoongi doesn’t even bother answering, focusing on the jjigae. A little voice in the back of his head tells him that eating in the library is probably worse than talking in the library—if the glares he’s receiving from the neighboring table are any indication of that—but he hasn’t been kicked out yet, so he supposes it can’t be that bad. Hoseok’s been kicked out a grand total of seven times just for talking, so it’s probably better that he’s eating and not talking (too much).

Taehyung leans back on his chair having finished his own bowl of food, patting his stomach contently. He frowns for a second and just as Yoongi is about to ask him if anything’s wrong he lets out a loud burp, earning him a spectacularly loud shh! from the neighboring table, accompanied with a lethal glare. Taehyung looks far too relaxed for someone in a library smiling sleepily at Yoongi, before his eyes wander down to the weathered leather watch on his wrist.

Taehyung’s eyes widen and he jumps up from his seat so violently it knocks backwards and he lets out a panicked shout that has everyone on the entire floor glaring at him venomously. Yoongi sinks a little in his seat.

“Shit—oh my g—fuck! I’m gonna be la—I gotta jet—shit!”

“What?! Where are going?” Yoongi whisper-shouts after Taehyung, who’s already started to make his way towards the elevator.

“Zumba class! I completely forgot Jimin wanted to do Zumba with me! I’ll call you, Yoongles! Don’t be a stranger!” Taehyung calls back, stepping into the elevator, pressing furiously on what Yoongi assumes is the close button.

Yoongles?

What the fuck.

Yoongi’s lying on the sofa, flicking aimlessly through the channels on the television when Hoseok approaches him with an expression that means he wants Yoongi to do something. Which means Yoongi will have to physically get up from the sofa. Which automatically means he isn’t doing it.

“Hey. Let’s go get bubble tea.”

“No.”

“C’mon! I even made you coffee this morning, how can you say no to me?”

“Easy—you’re annoying and you want me to get up. I haven’t had a day where I can do absolutely nothing in like, a month. There’s no way I’m getting up from this couch.”

Hoseok pouts, plopping down on the sofa and turning on the puppy-eyes. “Please?”

“No. Now go away before I pinch you. I’m small, but deadly.”

Hoseok laughs like Yoongi’s words hold no real threat to him, eyes curving up into crescents, dodging Yoongi’s weak attempts at pinching. “C’mon, my treat.”

That makes Yoongi pause in his pinching conquest. Free bubble tea? Yoongi’s not a cheap-ass nor is he particularly broke, but even he can’t resist the alluring charm of free bubble tea. He supposes that thirty minutes there and back won’t hurt anybody. Especially if free bubble tea is thrown in.

He heaves a huge sigh, before stretching his arms towards Hoseok, who laughs some more, pulling him up from the sofa. “Fine. But as soon as we get our bubble tea we’re coming straight back here.”

Luckily, there’s a Chatime that’s close enough to Yoongi and Hoseok’s shared apartment that Yoongi doesn’t complain too much on the way there. He opens the door, the bell jangling welcomingly as he steps into the warm shop. It’s completely empty, save for the two employees behind the counter.

Yoongi glances over at the two employees, letting his eyes wander away when his mind catches up to what he’s just seen. Doing a double take, Yoongi stops dead in his tracks, letting out a small noise of surprise. Hoseok bumps into Yoongi, but Yoongi doesn’t even seem to realize, his eyes fixated on the two employees. Well, one more than the other.

Lo and fucking behold, Taehyung’s standing behind the counter—looking goddamn fucking adorable in a printed purple uniform that should look hideous on anyone—balancing an empty cup on his nose with surprising agility while the same fucking kid who had been filming Taehyung the night he’d almost been arrested (Jeonghan? Or was it Jeongguk? Jeong-something, Yoongi’s sure of that) is filming Taehyung’s valiant attempts yet again, laughing hysterically.

“Taehyung?” Yoongi can’t keep the incredulity out of his voice.

Both Taehyung and Jeong-dude turn at the sound of Yoongi’s voice. Yoongi takes a small step back—bumping into Hoseok once again (who makes his displeasure known by pinching Yoongi’s arm, but Yoongi doesn’t really notice—or care—at this point)—when Jeong-dude steps towards Yoongi, because he has the body of a fucking weight-lifter, and despite his cute, non-intimidating face, he kind of looks like he could bench press fifty Yoongi’s without breaking a sweat.

“Yoongi!” Taehyung exclaims at the same time Jeong-dude says, “hey, it’s that guy you tried to kidnap!”

“Tried to kidnap?” Hoseok repeats. “Am I missing something here?”

Taehyung’s made his way around the counter and has walked up to Hoseok, shaking his hand enthusiastically. “I’m Taehyung!”

“Hoseok,” Hoseok replies, smiling despite his confusion. What a trooper. Yoongi, on the other hand, can feel his expression darkening. Once Hoseok knows, that means by default Namjoon and Seokjin will know, which means Yoongi’s life is basically over. “Kidnapping?”

“Oh yeah. I tried to kidnap Yoongi,” Taehyung grins. “I was getting desperate because my boss missed payday and my bank can’t keep up with my lavish lifestyle, so I had to resort to drastic measures.”

“Oh my god,” Hoseok chokes.

“Don’t worry!” Taehyung reassures Hoseok like he was worrying in the first place. “We’re all Gucci, we’re practically joined at the hip, right Yoongi?”

“Nope.”

“See? Best friends.”

Hoseok’s laughing loudly now—the one that sounds somewhat like a fire alarm and Yoongi knows he’s in deep shit. Namjoon and Seokjin are definitely going to know within the hour.

“Wait ‘til Jin hyung and Namjoon hear about this.”

Yep. Certified death.

“Can we get our bubble tea now?” Yoongi waves his hand impatiently, trying to lessen the amount of time Hoseok has to extract more information he can use to blackmail the fuck out of Yoongi. “We’re running on a strict schedule.”

“Oh, sure! Jeongguk!” Taehyung calls to Jeong-dude—Jeongguk—who’s dutifully waiting for them behind the counter. “Can you help them out? This is Jeongguk, by the way! He’s my best friend.”

Jeongguk grins at Yoongi. “Hi hyung—can I call you hyung? I feel like we’re already friends. I mean, you saw me half-naked, and I saw you taped to a chair.”

Yoongi can feel himself aging ten years. All this trouble for bubble tea. “No.”

“Ooh, I like him already Tae,” Jeongguk says to Taehyung, who’s made his way back behind the counter. Taehyung grins.

“See? I told you he was a keeper.”

Yoongi splutters indignantly.

“So. What can I get you today?”

Yoongi’s still incoherently sputtering to himself, so Hoseok nudges him out of the way and rattles off their orders to Jeongguk, who dutifully keys it into the cashier, before accepting their money and bustling off to make their orders.

“Taehyung, aren’t you going to help Jeongguk?” Yoongi asks once he’s managed to get a hold of himself—which was actually a lot harder than he thought. He’s still in disbelief.

“Oh, Taehyung’s fucking useless. Didn’t even show up to training,” Jeongguk says, measuring out the syrup expertly. “The only reason why his ass is still hired is because our boss has a soft spot for him.”

“Hey, I resent that! I’ll have you know that I’m literally an expert at pouring shots now because of Chatime.”

Jeongguk snorts. “Alright. Speaking of shots, you’re coming to Jimin’s party on Friday, right?”

“Duh. Is that even a question.”

Hoseok perks up. “Party?”

“Yeah—hey, you guys should totally come! My boyfriend’s hosting the party. He’s known for having the best parties ever,” Jeongguk says, preening.

“Yeah,” Taehyung agrees fervently. “Jimin’s parties are no joke.”

“Wait—wait, is this by any chance Park Jimin? Does he study biology?” Hoseok looks way too excited now and Yoongi can see the wheels in his head turning. Oh god. Yoongi tries to backtrack.

“Actually, we’re not free this Fri—”

“Yeah, how do you know him?” Jeongguk looks suspicious.

“We used to be in the same dance club! His parties are insane,” Hoseok gushes. “Once I woke up on the other side of campus dressed in a nappy and a bib.”

Taehyung laughs at that. “Sounds like one of Jimin’s parties.”

“You know, actually, Jimin always talked about his boyfriend, but I had no idea it was you,” Hoseok says. “Count me in, I love Jimin’s parties.”

“Yoongi?” Taehyung turns to Yoongi, holding out his finished drink for him. “What about you? You’re going to come, right?”

“Nup. My wild party days are over,” Yoongi says.

But then Taehyung pouts, his eyebrows pulling together and looking so distinctly like a kicked puppy Yoongi wants to cry. He can do this. He can resist. His mama didn’t raise a little bitch.

“Please?”

“Nup. Nope. Zero chance. Nada. Zilch. Not happening.”

“I seriously can’t believe I got talked into going,” Yoongi grumbles, twisting around to check out his back in the reflection.

“Oh please,” Hoseok says from his position on Yoongi’s bed. “Don’t act like you didn’t melt three seconds into your tough guy façade.”

Yoongi ignores his comment. “How does this look? Should I tuck it in or leave it out?”

“You know, I’ve never seen you give so many shits about your appearance. Is it because a certain someone is going to be there?”

Hoseok sounds so smug Yoongi wants to smack him. He didn’t even answer his question. He leaves it untucked.

“No, I just don’t want to look like a slob. Is there a problem with that?”

“Nope. None at all,” Hoseok says, raising his hands in defeat. “Gosh, so touchy.”

“I will kick your ass.”

“On that happy note, let’s go! Time to get fucking hammered.”

Well, at least they agree on one thing.

By the time Yoongi and Hoseok arrive at the apartment, the party is already well and truly in full swing.

The party has extended all the way to the hallway, with people drunkenly swaying to the obnoxious EDM music playing loudly, to the point where it’s hard to see where one person ends and another starts. Edging past a couple kissing, Yoongi and Hoseok walk in through the open front door.

Inside the apartment, it’s packed to the brim and Yoongi can barely take a step forward without getting jostled. There are disco lights swiveling around crazily, momentarily blinding Yoongi as he makes his way through the crowded apartment. On top of the dining table, three girls are dancing in bikinis, each clutching a bottle of tequila and pouring some of the liquid into the waiting people’s mouths below. Yoongi’s also pretty sure there’s a guy wearing nothing but his underwear and a cowboy hat dancing crazily next to another guy wearing a rainbow colored wig.

“Hey!” Hoseok shouts into Yoongi’s ear. “Look, it’s Taehyung.”

Yoongi turns to the direction Hoseok’s pointing at, catching sight of Taehyung who’s making his way through the crowd and kind of just. Freezes.

Yoongi reckon he fulfils the three C’s: cool, calm, and collected. There isn’t really much that gets to Yoongi, nor is he particularly wowed by anything. He’s very much a neutral party.

So there’s a lot to say about the fact that he feels like his heart is about to burst forth from his chest and flop around on the floor (and probably get trampled on), with his mouth drying up in less than two seconds.

And there’s probably also a lot to say about the fact that he feels like he’s in a K-drama, because everything seems to narrow down to Taehyung, and he can only vaguely hear Hoseok asking him if everything’s alright when, well, it’s not really. Everything is most definitely not alright.

Because someone, god knows who, decided to let Taehyung out looking like a fucking god in the most goddamn tightest leather pants in the world—there is a high possibility that they may, in fact, be spray painted on—as well as the lowest v-neck shirt. His eyes are smudged around the edges with kohl, his lips an alluring red and holy shit Yoongi is shook right down to his very core. Yoongi watches, offended, as the shirt slides to the side to reveal Taehyung’s sharp collarbones.

Suddenly, it’s too hot. Like, a sauna in hell kind of hot and Yoongi fans himself, turning to Hoseok with a nervous chuckle.

“Did someone turn on the heating or something,” Yoongi mumbles, laughing awkwardly. “It’s getting hot in here, am I right?”

Hoseok’s face scrunches up in confusion. “Are you feeling okay? It’s not that hot.”

Yoongi doesn’t really pay any heed to Hoseok. Taehyung’s nearly reached the pair and Yoongi’s Not Ready. He needs at least another week and three shots before he’s ready to face Taehyung and his spray painted pants. “I need a drink. Or seven. And someone really needs to lay off the goddamn heating.”

“I think that’s just you being thir—”

“Yoongi! Hoseok hyung!” Taehyung calls over the loud music once he reaches them. Holy shit. Has his voice always been so low? Yoongi swears that just yesterday Taehyung’s voice still hadn’t cracked. “You made it!”

“I made it,” Yoongi says unnecessarily.

“C’mon, lets get you a drink.”

Taehyung grabs Yoongi’s hand and pulls him through the crowd, and Yoongi is suddenly painfully aware of the fact that his hand is probably clammy and sweaty and the fact that Taehyung’s hand is clamped down over it isn’t making things better. At all.

He tries to wiggle his hand subtly out of Taehyung’s grip, but Taehyung looks over his shoulder and shoots Yoongi a grin like nothing’s wrong, tightening his grip on Yoongi’s hand and making it basically impossible for any further attempts at escaping his grip.

They eventually make it to the small kitchen and Yoongi thanks the gods for small mercies when Taehyung finally lets go of his hand. The kitchen, luckily, isn’t crowded at all, with two people standing near the island counter, talking and giggling with their heads together.

They look up when Taehyung enters and Yoongi recognizes Jeongguk, who lets out an excited shout, his hand coming up in a wave. The other, a smaller, blonde haired male with cute smiling eyes, looks curiously towards Yoongi, his lips curving up into a welcoming smile. He catches sight of Hoseok and his eyes light up in recognition as he lets out a surprised noise, immediately making his way over to Hoseok.

“Hyung!” He says in a lilting voice. “You made it!”

The blonde hugs Hoseok tightly who laughs, patting his back fondly. “Of course. I wouldn’t miss your parties for the world, Jiminie.”

Ah. Jiminie. The famous boyfriend.

Jimin diverts his attention to Yoongi, smiling widely—if not a little smugly. Why that is, Yoongi isn’t too sure.

“Yoongi hyung! I’m Jimin. I’ve heard a lot about you from Taehyungie.” Jimin giggles when Taehyung punches his arm. “I’m glad I could finally meet you! Thank you for not calling the police on Taehyung.”

“Uh, nice to meet you, too. And you’re—you’re welcome, I guess?”

“Hyung, you look good,” Jeongguk says, coming up behind Jimin and resting his head on Jimin’s shoulder. “Tae, tell him he looks good.”

Taehyung flushes. “You—you look good, Yoongi. I like your shirt.”

“Thanks. You look good, too.”

More like drop-dead fucking gorgeous, but Yoongi’s not about to say that.

Yoongi can see Jeongguk whispering something into Jimin’s ear, who giggles. Taehyung, who seems to have overhead, blushes furiously and flicks Jeongguk on the nose.

“Hey, asshole. You wanna go?”

“Fuck yeah,” Jeongguk says, stepping away from Jimin to puff his chest out. “I’ll take you out with a hand tied behind my back.”

“Okay boys, time to break it up,” Jimin laughs, pushing the two apart from where they’re standing nose-to-nose, before turning around and picking up two shot glasses filled to the brim with an ominous looking blue-black liquid. “Anyways, Yoongi hyung! This is a welcoming gift from yours truly. Think of it as an… initiation gift.”

“Initiation gift?” Yoongi wrinkles his nose. “Initiation for what?”

“My parties, of course! Anyone who’s been to my parties has had at least one of these in their life. It’s called the Jimin Shot and it’s scientifically proven to get you absolutely fucked. Trust me, I’m a science major,” Jimin winks.

“I’m pretty good at handling my alcohol though,” Yoongi says skeptically.

“No, oh my god Yoongi, that drink is literally certified death,” Hoseok says, shuddering. “I swear that shit is half poison.”

Jimin, Jeongguk, and Taehyung are all wearing identical shit-eating grins as Jimin holds out the shot invitingly, and in all honesty, it’s a little intimidating. But Taehyung is looking at him so expectantly, with a fucking gorgeous grin that lights up his entire face and how can he, a weak mortal, say no to that? How can Min Yoongi resist a smile that is probably carved by angels? The answer: he doesn’t.

Maybe Yoongi wants to prove himself to Taehyung. Maybe he wants to impress him a little. And maybe it’s the adrenaline rushing through his veins that makes him do this. Yoongi’s not sure the sane part of his mind decided this is a good idea, but some part of him thought it is. Maybe it’s a #TBT to the good old glory days of Party Animal Min Yoongi.

That Yoongi takes one look at Taehyung’s excited, expectant expression, blurts out a, “I can drink two easy”, grabs both shot glasses from Jimin’s waiting hands and downs them in quick succession, one after the after.

Hoseok was right, though. There is probably a decidedly illegal substance in the shots because there is no way that the mix was just pure alcohol.

There’s a shocked silence. Yoongi sways unsteadily on his feet for a second and four pairs of hands shoot out to steady him, before he regains his balance and slams the shot glasses onto the counter with a bit more force than necessary.

“Like I said,” Yoongi says, repressing a burp. “Easy.”

Jimin hoots, slapping him on the back, while Jeongguk makes a surprised noise. Hoseok shakes his head in disbelief, muttering an unbelievable.

“Oh my god, you are definitely my kind of friend,” Jimin says, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You, hyung, are welcome any time at this apartment.”

Taehyung stares at him with an unreadable look in his eyes, his lips twitching in amusement. “You are something else, Min Yoongi.”

Maybe it’s the fuzziness in his brain, or maybe it’s the liquid confidence. But there’s something in that drink that makes Yoongi grab Taehyung’s hand and pull him towards the door.

“Let’s dance.”

Somehow they find themselves right in the middle of the throng of sweaty people, swaying in time to the heavy beat. Yoongi’s never been bad at dancing, per say. With all those weekends spent grinding up against a stranger, he feels like he knows how to move his hips just right to get the other person flustered.

Yoongi’s not bad at dancing but Taehyung is on another level. It’s like a switch has been flipped—from a cute, bumbling Taehyung to a Taehyung that looks at Yoongi with a hungry, seductive light in his eyes. Taehyung has a tight grip on Yoongi’s waist, almost guiding him as they grind against each other.

Yoongi turns around, bringing his arms up and looping them around Taehyung’s neck, bringing his face close to Taehyung’s, close enough so they’re breathing the same air.

“You’re—you’re fucking beautiful, you know that?” Yoongi breathes. He can feel Taehyung all around him to the point where it’s almost overwhelming, but it feels right, so fucking right.

Taehyung laughs softly. “You’re so drunk, hyung.”

“I’m sober enough to know what I’m doing when I do this,” Yoongi says, eyes blazing, before he yanks Taehyung down and crashes his lips against his.

Maybe it’s the impact of the Jimin Shot, but Yoongi feels like he’s on top of the world. Maybe Yoongi will regret it in the morning. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

But right now, with liquid gold in his veins and stars in his eyes, nothing feels more right than this.