#hoping the interest is low because I did not print that many ! come get some truly limited edition fanwork

[bunabi]

Hey guess what came today: the zines!

A full thirty-two pages of Dragon Age fanart I made years ago for @mxcatterbug's challenge, plus extra artwork. The pin and double-sided mini print are both included.

You can buy it on bigcartel in time for the holidays! 🗡️

[mayakern]

thank you for the advice on pins ! i am in the process of researching how to set up my shop and i have a couple more questions if you don't mind- at what stage did you feel it was time to open your shop, follower-wise? did it take a long time to become profitable ? i saw you go through a manufacturer for your prints, is it because making them is too expensive? i see you don't make stickers, is there a reason? is a laser cutting machine worth it when debuting ? or superfluous? what did you use to design your website (it's very pretty btw)? do you have advice on getting people interested in checking it out?

how does one deal with sales being down, mentally, and how to be patient in the beginning?

does managing orders require a lot of organization? is a label maker worth the time it saves? in general, do you recomment buying your own machines (printer, or button maker) or stick with manufacturers? also, do you have advice on reconcialiting it with anticapitalism because im feeling conflicted about outsourcing labor and adding products to this world... is setting up shopify very hard ? are taxes a hassle ? sorry if it's a lot, i have trouble wrapping my head around every step i'll have to do and want to avoid beginner mistakes if i can. if you have any other advice and traps to avoid i'd be very grateful

dude this is SO many questions.

the short answer is: everything is hard and takes work.

there is no “right” time to start a shop or start selling stuff. you just kind of do it and hope. i opened mine in college (around 2012 or 2013) because i had already made some merch for a local convention and i wanted to sell the leftovers. my store didn’t become viable as a full time job until around 2017—it was a means to subsidize the income i had from working as a freelance artist.

also i never went into debt for the store so there was never a moment when my store “became profitable.” unless you’re willing to go into debt for this (not something i’d recommend), it’s a slow slog to get to a point where you can afford to sell items with a higher price point at a high enough volume that it is viable as a full career. inventory costs money and the more profitable items cost more money. it takes a lot of time and work and momentum to make this your whole job.

buying your own equipment is only worth it if you plan to use that equipment for multiple years to get a good return on investment.

however a label printer is almost always worth it, but i wouldn’t buy one until you’re getting at least 20 orders a month.

low price point items like buttons and stickers can be good to start out (i used to sell both) but at a certain point, unless you’re selling a massive amount of them there is a limit to how profitable a $3 item can be.

managing a store takes an amount of work/organization that is proportional to the number of products you have/sell. i will say i was an absolute disaster at this when i handled everything myself, which is why the store only became viable as a full time job once devin joined me.

i use squarespace for my portfolio site and shopify for the store. they’re relatively hassle free.

if you’re making most of your income from store or freelance work, find a local CPA to help you do taxes. also keep a running spreadsheet for all your expenses and income. separate your expenses into groups based on the different types of deductions (i.e. office equipment, travel, etc.) and update that spreadsheet, at minimum, once a month. then taxes are easy.

as far as anticapitalist mindset goes… do your due diligence when it comes to sussing out the manufacturers/companies you work with and try to create thoughtfully.

anyway next time you ask for advice please just pick like 3 questions at a time. this was… a lot.

[pbandjesse]

My manager, Jessica, just texted me that all the schools canceled tomorrow. Which sucks but a free, mostly, day off for me. I hope to do lots of quilting and knitting. And I still am working tomorrow night unless something changes. So I'm pretty happy. And honestly I hope the weather is interesting. That would make me happy.

Today was pretty good though. I wasn't feeling great for a lot of it honestly. I was stressed about my meeting with Jessica with the national guard. I spoke to so many Jessica's today. Honestly it's hilarious.

But besides my fears about that meeting, mostly about not knowing where to park, I had a good day.

I woke up at 7. James was sitting in bed with me. It's nice seeing them without their sling. And while they are hurting they are trying very hard to stretch and start building up some muscles.

I got washed and dressed and felt very cozy. I should have worn a coat today, as it was much colder, but I did not. But it was fine. We left and James drove us.

They are having trouble getting their arm to move upwards, apparently it feels like rubber bands, super tensioned. But I'm very proud of them for trying. They got me breakfast and we went to work.

I was an hour early. So I would eat and chill in the back. Jim came and we talked about Christmas stuff. He says all he really wants are printed photos of his grandkids and kids all framed. I thought that was very sweet.

And it was a fun day. We had a Christian private school and the kids were so cute in their uniforms. The saddle shoes and the cardigans and little ties. Just so sweet.

And it was such small classes. I had the 4th graders and there were only 7 of them. We love a low ratio.

They were also so super sweet. They had notebooks and took notes the whole time. Their teacher was an older man and he was great, they obviously respected him a ton. And he had great points to add throughout the tour. I think I gave a pretty good tour and tried to really focus on dates and numbers and spelled words I thought would be useful for their projects. They are going to write reports on things that made them interested. And so when they seemed excited I would expand on things. We were supposed to hit 5 galleries because they came early but we didn't even need that in the end. I was able to end my tour at the ring of fire, where John's older kids joined me, and then they were off to lunch.

After lunch O'Malley and my groups came together for a scavenger hunt. And I worked on my glove. Which I realized was slightly longer the the first glove. Thankfully not by a ton but annoying. I have to finish the edges but I'm excited anyway.

And at the end of the scavenger hunt a 3rd and a 4th grade group got 8 of the 11 questions correct and got to pick prizes. Erasers and buttons and marbles. I love how excited they get about my silly little prize box.

I took my group to the restoration classroom and we did the roller coaster project. Their teacher required that they draw out and label their rollercoaster in their notebook first. Which is fine by me. It was fun. And they did such a good job. I built my example and they loved trying that and then building their own. Though it was very funny when the teacher was like yeah that looks nice but it won't work!! And then it did and he was like. What!!!! Amazing!!

Once we were done and cleaned up they got to sit in the car. We had to wait for O'Malley's group to be done but that was alright. And then to the gift shop.

I made sure I said goodbye to everyone. The kids told me they had so much fun and that I was the best. What sweethearts.

I went to clean up the classroom and put things away. And soon I would join James in the back office. They brought me a donut. And the I went to take over the front desk.

Which was mostly good except someone came to buy something in the case and I could not figure out how to scan it in and James had to leave their meeting to come save me and I felt very dumb. But the lady was really nice and I suggested she check out Avam's giftshop since she was in the area. I hope she does cause her vibe made me think she would like it.

I finished up my glove. And no one else came in and soon I was able to leave. To go to the armory and meet with Jessica.

I was nervous. I took the long way. But was still early. Not a huge deal. The security guard was nice. And Jessica met me at the door.

The meeting went well. I am getting paid more then my regular workshop rate. I bought all the materials while I was there. We discussed what they had and what I might need. And I told them about my teddy bear workshop and they may be interested in running on as well!! So that's really cool. I felt like a real professional artist.

I was excited to go home. I was a little confused about how to get out of the parking lot but that was fine in the end. And I got home and changed into a different sweatshirt. And laid on the couch to wait for James to come home.

They would get back here and make dinner. And after dinner they ride their stationary bike and I worked in my studio. Half way down my large quilt squares.

I would go lay down after an hour or so. And James took a shower. I heard them go "oh no oh no!" And I'm like what?? Thinking something was wrong with their arm. But actually their new earrings was missing. They are pretty disappointed. But I gave them the other gold hoop I have so now we can match and I think it looks so cute on them. And who knows, maybe the other one will show up. It's a low change but not none.

Now we are in bed. James painted their nails. I took a bubble bath. And now I don't have to wake up early. I hope I have a productive art day. And have a fun event tomorrow evening.

I hope you all sleep great tonight. Stay safe if you are affected by the storm! Goodnight!!

[ofourmaker]

I sat down on the grass, popped open my soda, and a shiver went through me as the can shivered in my hand. I would have dropped it if my fingers hadn’t spasmed around it at the drastically unfamiliar sensation, and at the sight - it was shivering because from the small hole spouted a much too large and growing stream of semi-solid matter, which did not fall but continued rising and swelling and folding in on itself above me. My frightened grip should have crushed the can, but whatever was coming out still had a tumbling, coiling pressure inside the can.

The spouting slowed, but still nothing that had shot up came down. Manifold articulations coalesced like clustered bubbles joining into single bubbles. Then two nostrils opened like whales’ blowholes, and I knew I was beholding some living entity.

Throughout the time that followed, the upper parts continued to take a more and more definite, troll-like shape. From the waist down it continued to change but remained in chaotic form, tapering down to the hole it had issued from in my soda can - it was still slowly oozing out, and the can had undone the slight crumples I had given it, and was swollen tight as a balloon ready to burst. I wanted to put down the can, but had a strong feeling that would be dangerous, and in some way disrespectful.

The thing coughed, and I could watch the cough coming up out of its insides and straightening out some knots in its throat. The thing opened eyes which shifted like heated honey in an earthquake. Then the thing spoke:

“Three wishes, with the exception of those written here.”

It pulled a scroll from somewhere (perhaps from under the skin of one knobby arm), a scroll which was rather long when he unrolled it before me, and rather finely printed. I noticed such things forbidden as: “wishing for more wishes”, “wishing to be a genie, or for the power to fulfil wishes”, “wishing for unlimited supplies of anything”, and such like. While I read it, hoping to find some loophole (the lengthy exceptions appeared like a challenge to me), to distract him I asked a question I was legitimately curious about:

“Why were you in my soda can?”

The reply came with a fluttering, guttural accent of indignation.

“Some punk thought it would be funny. See exception number thirty-seven.”

I was distracted myself for a moment seeing its teeth merging and separating as it spoke. I took a bit to find my place again. Then a thought occurred to me for my first wish.

“I wish for immediate knowledge of how to work around these exceptions.”

“See exception sixty-six!” the creature snarled, a few of its teeth slipping over its lips and sinking into the surrounding face. Disappointed, I continued reading. Off-handedly I tried something else,

“I wish for you to feel helpful and generous with your wishes rather than holding people to so many rules.”

“See exception forty-nine,” it groaned, and rolled its eyes - a very distracting sight. “Why can’t you people simply wish for a million dollars or some such natural thing?”

“It’s just too good of an opportunity to waste on something you could win in the lottery. And, after all, your company is so interesting. I wish for you to be very susceptible to flattery and compliments.”

“That’s covered in exception forty-nine as well! Your company doesn’t interest me at all. Get on with your wishes so I can get back to writing exceptions.”

“Oh, I’ve got one. I wish for you to submit yourself to the SCP Foundation for testing.”

The creature gasped, a few of its internal organs slipping down its chin to burrow into the folds of its neck. It glanced nervously at its exceptions list, a few extra eyes appearing in the gesture.

“Ugh,” it said. “Now, that’s a low blow.”

2023/01/09 #dailywrittenoom

[c-is-for-circinate]

For a long, large part of my life, being queer in a media landscape--finding queerness in a media landscape--has meant theft.

I'm a Fandom Old, somehow, these days, older than most and younger than some, in that way that's grown associated with grumpy crotchetyness and shotguns on porches and back in my day, we had to wade through our Yahoo Groups mailing lists uphill both ways, boring and irrelevant anecdotes from Back In Those Days when homophobia clearly worked differently than it does now, probably because we weren't trying hard enough. I've seen a lot of stories through the years. I've read a lot of fanfic. (More days than not, for the past twenty years. I've read a lot of fanfic.)

When people my age start groaning and sighing at conversations about representation and queerbaiting, when we roll our eyes and drag all the old war stories out again in the face of AO3 is terrible and Not Good Enough, so often what we say is: you Young Folks Today have no idea how hard, how scary, how limiting it was to be queer anywhere Back In Those Days. Including online, maybe especially online, including in a media landscape that hated us so much more than any one you've ever known. And that is true. Always and everywhere, again and again, it's true, we remember, it's true.

We don't talk so much about the joy of it.

Online fan spaces were my very first queer communities, ever. I was thirteen, I was fourteen, I was fifteen--I was a lonely, over-precocious "gifted kid" two years too young for my grade level in an all-girls' Catholic school in the suburbs--I lived in a world where gay people were a rumor and an insult and a news story about murder. I was straight, of course, obviously, because real people were straight and anyway I was weird enough already--I couldn't be two things strange, couldn't be gay too, but--well, I could read the stories. I could feel things about that. I would have those stories to help me, a few years later, when I knew I couldn't call myself straight any more.

And those stories were theft. There was never any doubt about that. We wrote disclaimers at the top of every fic, with the specter of Anne Rice's lawyers around every corner. We hid in back-corners of the internet, places you could only find through a link from a link from a link on somebody else's recs page, being grateful for the tiny single-fandom archives when you found them, grateful for the webrings where they existed. It was theft, all of it, the stories about characters we did not own, the videotaped episodes on your best friend's VHS player, one single episode pulled off of Limewire over the course of three days.

It was theft, we knew, to even try and find ourselves in these stories to begin with. How many fics did I read in those days about two men who'd always been straight, except for each other, in this one case, when love was stronger than sexual orientation? We stole our characters away from the heterosexual lives they were destined to have. We stole them away from writers and producers and TV networks who work overtime to shower them in Babes of the Week, to pretend that queerness was never even an option. This wasn't given to us. This wasn't meant for us. This wasn't ours to have, ever, ever in the first place. But we took it anyway.

And oh, my friends, it was glorious.

We took it. We stole. And again and again, for years and years and years, we turned that theft into an art. We looked for every opening, every crack in every sidewalk where a little sprout of queerness might grow, and we claimed it for our own and we grew whole gardens. We grew so sly and so skilled with it, learning to spot the hints of oh, this could be slashy in every new show and movie to come our way. Do you see how they left these character dynamics here, unattended on the table? How ripe they are for the pocketing. Here, I'll help you carry them. We'll make off with these so-called straight boys, and we only have to look back if somebody sets out another scene we want for our own.

We were thieves, all of us, and that was fine and that was fair, because to exist as queer in the world was theft to begin with. Stolen time, stolen moments--grand larceny of the institution of marriage, breaking and entering to rob my mother's hopes for grandchildren. Every shoplifted glance at the wrong person in the locker room (and it didn't matter if we never peeked, never dared, they called us out on it anyway). Every character in every fic whose queerness became a crime against this ex-wife, that new love interest. Every time we dared steal ourselves away from the good straight partners we didn't want to date.

And: we built ourselves a den, we thieves, wallpapered in stolen images and filled to the brim with all the words we'd written ourselves. We built ourselves a home, and we filled it with joy. Every vid and art and fic, every ship, every squee. Over and over, every straight boy protagonist who abandoned all womankind for just this one exception with his straight boy protagonist partner found gay orgasms and true love at the end.

Over and over, we said: this isn't ours, this isn't meant to be ours, you did not give this to us--but we are taking it anyway. We will burglarize you for building blocks and build ourselves a palace. These stories and this place in the world is not for us, but we exist, and you can't stop us. It's ours now, full of color and noise, a thousand peoples' ideas mosaic'ed together in celebration. We made this, and it will never be just yours again. You won't ever truly get it back, no matter how many lawyers you send, not completely. We keep what we steal.

.

Things shifted over time, of course. That's good. That's to be celebrated. Nobody should have to steal to survive. It should not be a crime, should not feel like a crime, to find yourself and your space in the world.

There were always content creators who could slip a little wink in when they laid out their wares, oh what's this over here, silly me leaving this unattended where anybody could grab it, of course there might be more over by the side door if you come around the alleyway (but if anybody asks, you didn't get this from ME). We all watched Xena marry Gabrielle, in body language and between the lines. We sat around and traded theories and rumors about whether the people writing Due South knew what they were doing when they sent their buddy cops off into the frozen north alone together at the end of the show, if they'd done it on purpose, if they knew. But over the years, slowly, thankfully, the winks became less sly.

A teenage boy put his hand on another teenage boy's hand and said, you move me, and they kissed on network TV, in a prime-time show, on FOX, and the world didn't burn down. Here and there, where they wanted to, where they could without getting caught by their bosses and managers, content creators stopped subtly nudging people around the back door and started saying, "Here. This is on offer here too, on purpose. You get to have this, too."

And of course, of course that came with a whole host of problems too. Slide around to the back door but you didn't get this from me turned into it's an item on our special menu, totally legit, you've just got to ask because the boss throws a fit if we put it out front. Shopkeepers and content creators started advertising on the sly, come buy your fix here!, hiding the fine print that says you still have to take what you've purchased home and rebuild it with your semi-legal IKEA hacks. Maybe they'll consider listing that Destiel or Sterek as a full-service menu item next year. Is that Crowley/Aziraphale the real thing or is it lite?

And those problems are real and the conversations are worth having, and it's absolutely fair to be frustrated that you can't find the ship you want on sale in anything like your color and size in a vast media landscape packed full of discount hetships and fast-fashion m/f. It's fair to be angry. It's fair to be frustrated. Queerbait is a word that exists for a reason.

There's a part of me that hurts, though, every time the topic comes up. It's a confusing, bad-mannered part of me, but it's still very real. And it's not because I'm fawning for crumbs, trying to be the Good, Non-Threatening Gay. It's not that I'm scared and traumatized by the thought of what might happen if we dare raise our voices and ask for attention. (Well. Not mostly. I'll always remember being quiet and scared and fifteen, but it's been a long two decades since then. I know how to ask for a hell of a lot more now.)

It's because I remember that cozy, plush-wallpapered den of joyful thieves. I remember you keep what you steal.

Every single time--every time--when a story I love sets a couple of characters out on a low, unguarded table, perfectly placed to be pilfered on the sly and taken home and smushed together like a couple of dolls, my very first thought is always, always joy. Always, that instinct says, yay! Says, this is ours now. As soon as I go home and crawl into that pillow-fort den, my instincts say, I will surely find people already at work combing through spoils and finding new ways to combine them, new ways to make them our own. I know there's fic for that. I've already seen fic for that, and I wasn't really interested last time, but the new store display's got my brain churning, and I can't wait to see what the crew back at the hideout does with this.

Every time, that's where my brain goes. And oh, when I realize the display's put out on purpose, that somebody snuck in a legitimate special menu item, when the proprietor gives me the nod and wink and says, you don't have to come around the side, I know it's not much but here--there is so much joy and relief and hope in me from that! Oh, what we can make with these beautiful building blocks. Oh what a story we can craft from the pieces. Oh, the things we can cobble together. Look at that, this one's a little skimpy on parts but we can supplement it, this one's got a whole outline we can fill in however we want. This one technically comes semi-preassembled, and that's boring as shit and a pain to take back apart, but that's fine, we'll manage. We're artists and thieves. I bet someone's pulling out the AU saw to cut it to pieces already.

And then I get back to our den, which has moved addresses a dozen times over the years and mostly hangs out on Tumblr now (and the roof leaks and the landlord's sketchy as fuck but at least they don't charge rent, and we've made worse places our own). And I show up, ready for joy--ready for a dozen other people who saw that low-hanging fruit on that unguarded table, who got the nod and wink about the special menu item, who're ready to get so excited about this newest haul. Did you see what we picked up? The theft was so easy, practically begging to be stolen. The last owner was an idiot with no idea what to do with it. The last owner knew exactly what it could become, bless their heart, under a craftsman with more time on their hands, so they looked away on purpose at just the right time to let me take it home. I show up every time ready for our space, the place that fed me on joy and self-confidence when I was fifteen and starving. The place that taught me, yes, we are thieves, because it is RIGHT to take what we need, and the beautiful things we create are their own justification. We are thieves, and that's wonderful, because nothing is handed to us and that means we get to build our own palaces. We get to keep everything we steal.

I go home, and even knowing the world is different, my instincts and heart are waiting for that. And I walk in the door, and I look at my dash, and I glance over at twitter, and--

And people are angry, again. Angry at the slim pickings from the hidden special menu. So, so tired and angry, at once again having to steal.

And they're right to be! Sometimes (often, maybe) I think they're angry at the wrong people--more angry with the shopkeeper who offers the bite-sized sampler platter of side characters or sneaks their queer content in on the special menu than the ones who don't include it at all. But it's not wrong to be mad that Disney's once again advertising their First Gay Character only to find out it's a tiny sprinkle of a one-line extra on an otherwise straight sundae. It's not wrong to be furious at the world because you've spent your whole life needing to be a thief to survive. It's far from wrong. I'm angry about it too.

But this was my den of thieves, my chop shop, my makerspace. Growing up in fandom, I learned to pick the locks on stories and crack the safes of subtext at the very same time I learned to create. They were the same thing, the same art. We are thieves, my heart says, we are thieves, and that's what makes us better than the people we steal from. We deconstruct every time we create. We build better things out of the pieces.

And people are angry that the pre-fab materials are too hard to find, the pickings too slim, the items on sale too limited? Yes, of course they are, of course they should be--but my heart. Oh, my heart. Every single time, just a little bit, it breaks.

Of course the stories are terrible (they have always been terrible). Of course they are, but we are thieves. We steal the best parts and cobble them back together and what we make is better than it was before. The craftsman's eye that cases a story for weak points, for blank spaces, for anywhere we can fit a crowbar and pry apart this casing--that's skill and art and joy. Of course we shouldn't have to, of course we shouldn't have to, but I still love it. I still want it, crave it. I still thrill every time I see it, a story with hairline cracks that we can work open with clever hands to let the queer in.

That used to be cause for celebration, around here. I ask him to go back to the ruins of Aeor with me, two men together alone on an expedition in the frozen north, it feels like a gift. And I understand why some people take it as an insult. I understand not good enough. I understand how something can feel like a few drops of water to someone dying of thirst, like a slap in the face. If it was so easy to sneak it hidden onto the special menu, to place it on the unguarded side table for someone else to run off to, why not let it sit out front and center in the first place? I know it's frustrating. It should be. We should fight. We should always fight. I know why.

But my heart, oh, my heart. My heart only knows what it's been taught. My heart sees, this thing right here, the proprietor left it there for you with a nod and a wink because they Get It. It's not put together yet, but it's better that way anyway. It's so full of pieces to pull apart and reassemble. I bet they've got a whole mosaic wall going up at home already. We can bring it home and make it OURS, more than it was ever theirs, forget half of what it came from and grow a new garden in what remains.

And I go home to find anger, and my heart breaks instead.

[cherrykindness]

wild tweets |

pairing: Harry Styles x Actress!Reader

summary: as newlyweds, you and harry read thirsty comments for buzzfeed.

warning: it's thirsty tweets, so below there is adult humor 😳

"It's a bright, sunny morning in Los Angeles, and there's nothing I want more than to be on BuzzFeed and read wild tweets alongside my husband."

"Thirsty tweets, babe." Harry corrected, laughing out loud with the producers behind the cameras.

"Thirsty Tweets." You said quickly, putting your hand over your mouth to stifle a giggle. "I'm terrible at that, I'm sorry. Can we start over?"

"Let's take a break for one to two minutes. You've given us a great introduction, Y/N."

You shook your head, smiling shyly before turning to Harry, who was already watching you with that easy smile at the corner of his lips. You liked how his hand remained firmly on yours, making those circular movements with the thumb that always served as a natural medice for your anxiety.

"You look so fucking beautiful."

The pleated dress with flounce sleeves fit you like a glove. You had made peace with the various shades of white since the wedding and knew that Harry liked to see you in that color too.

"Thank you, you're not too bad either, Styles."

You intimately suspected that Harry would always seem far beyond that "not bad" that came out as a euphemism from your mouth. He wore nothing but a pair of bell-bottom pants in a strong shade of blue and a soft vest printed with fluffy little sheep on a striped American collared shirt - in your opinion, no one could look better in farm animal clothing than Harry Styles and Princess Diana with her red "Black Sheep" sweater in the 1980s. In contrast, you knew your husband well enough to know that he was arrogant and knew exactly how hot he looked - you also made your thoughts clear enough when you kept him backstage beyond ten minutes in a rather heated kissing session.

"Are you anxious?" you asked curiously, remaining with downcast eyes fixed on the strokes that remained assiduous on your warm skin. "To read about how the whole internet dreams of fucking my wife?! Of course." Harry joked, leaning over to leave a small one on your cheek. "We agree on that, don't we? Although I'm a little nervous, I'm really interested to know all the crazy things they say about you. Everyone knows you're mine at the end of the day, that's enough."

At the end of the break, you and Harry made a silent agreement that you should be the first to pick up one of the scattered papers in the red pot. There were quite a significant amount of tweets, and as much as you were used to reading rather sordid things about your husband on the Internet, the excitement was there as if you were wading into uncharted territory.

"I would be a good girl all year round if Santa guaranteed me a threesome with Harry and Y/N Styles on Christmas Eve." You laughed, Harry staring at the camera with an expression close to the meme of the surprised Pikachu. "You guys are incredibly nasty, I love it."

"If that was the first one, I'm really worried about the next ones." Harry commented with a little corner smile, picking the next tweet out of the bucket. "I have an entire folder on Pinterest dedicated to Harry Styles' hands, and let me tell you why: those hands are art, and art needs to be recognized."

"What- Guys, you promised you wouldn't post my anonymous tweets here." You quipped with false reproach, laughing at your own stupid joke while everyone else in the studio did the same. "But I can't blame her, honestly." Shaking your shoulders, you opened another piece of paper. "Harry Styles finally confessed that he wrote Watermelon Sugar for Y/N!!!! Are you guys imagining the same thing as me?!!!!!! 🥵🍆💦"

"Exhausted emoji, eggplant emoji, and water emoji?" Harry frowned, staring at the tweet you held up. "I imagine you're in need of a vacation somewhere refreshing and you're craving a fruit that everyone eats like it's really a vegetable."

"That reminded me of that story-" You laughed, hiding your face on the table as Harry continued to offer a poker face to the camera, struggling not to keep up with you laughter. "I'm sorry, lovie, I have to share this with the rest of the world." You stated, wiping a few tears from the corner of your eyes. "Harry always wears those fancy suits to concerts, right?! Right! Turns out he looks really hot in some, like his ass molds perfectly into those tight pants and everything. I was home that night because I wasn't feeling well enough to face the big crowds, but I was still following everything on twitter. It was a concert in London, not so far from where we lived at the time, so it was obvious that he would come home after it was over. I follow some portals that do really fast updates of pictures, videos, etc; everything that happened at Harry's concert was on my timeline in a matter of seconds. When one of these profiles uploaded a picture of him with his back to the camera in a heavily accentuated black and white suit, I quickly sent him the image along with a peach emoji and then wrote "looks good tonight". He didn't reply to me until a few hours later, of course, but I obviously didn't expect a "ready for a Fifth Avenue peach salad for dinner?" and numerous cutlery emojis."

Harry rolled his eyes comically, indulging in laughter as did everyone else who occupied the backstage area.

"I'm against the eroticization of emojis." He said between uncompensated breaths, shaking his head negatively. "Let's go to the next ones, please, I'm already feeling exposed enough here."

"I like your old-fashioned spirit, baby." You assured him with a smile, laying on the sturdy shoulder hidden under the fluffy fabric.

Harry chuckled low, leaving a little kiss on the top of your head before selecting the next paper. The fans would die when that video aired, everyone was sure. You two easily forgot the cameras when you were side by side, and the public display of affection had never been a problem.

"My life mission is to look at someone the way Harry looks at Y/N and be reciprocated the way Y/N looks at Harry, then I could die happy." Harry read. "That was very good and healthy, thank you!" He smiled. "But don't settle for death in that case, please. Just make sure to keep that person around forever."

"Awn, we got so sweet now." You made a pout. "Thank you for sending us something so cute! I really hope you find the right person soon." Sending a kiss to the camera, you moved on to the next tweet. "I wouldn't want to get a golden ticket to visit Willy Wonka's factory, I would like to get a golden ticket to actively participate in Y/N and Harry Styles' Honeymoon.

"That was creative, so I will disregard the fact that you removed my last name from my wife's name." Harry joked.

"I will always be an Y/L/N." You flashed the tongue. "We had a great Honeymoon, but I know you guys already know all about it because there are pictures all over the internet of outings that I don't even remember existed."

"Even though we chose a rather reserved city, many paparazzi still managed to photograph some of our nights there." Harry agreed. "There was one particular day when we opted to have dinner at a restaurant near the beach. Y/N had found it even before the trip, it was pretty laid back and we could spend the evening at karaoke. I don't really remember what happened, but we woke up the next day with a terrible hangover, still wearing the clothes from the dinner and with several headlines saying that I was cheating on my wife in the middle of our Honeymoon with a blue-haired italian girl."

"That wig made me sexy, man." You blinked, laughing as you remembered the situation. "It's a shame the paparazzi only got low quality images, but I swear I looked really amazing that night. Italy, I miss you."

"We're coming to the end and I haven't had to ask production for a glass of water yet, thank you to whoever selected these tweets." Harry raised his thumb to the camera, smiling before turning his gaze back to the small paper he had chosen. "Y/N could literally punch me in the face and I would just bow down and thank them for it." He laughed. "She has heavy hands, so I would rethink that choice."

"It takes strong hands to be a superheroine." You blinked gracefully, referring to your works as a Marvel actress. "I move around a lot during the night, so I'll take this lovely opportunity to say that twitter can dismiss all the malicious theories about Harry always show up with a new bruise all over his body."

"Please stop making indecent assumptions while Y/N is aggressive with me at night only unconsciously, her father has access to social media."

You laughed, clearing your throat before reading the next obscenity aloud.

"I would sell all my possessions to have Y/N sitting on my lap for ten seconds."

"Oh my God." Harry laughed out loud, throwing his head back. "I should have said that in our wedding vows."

You shook your head, laughing low as you set the tweet aside.

"That was pretty funny and cheeky, I approve."

"Okay, looks like we finally got to the last one." Harry announced, waving the paper in the air dramatically before opening it. "Harry could literally crush me with those boots while fuc- I need that glass of water." He said dumbfounded, hiding his face between his hands after throwing the tweet over his shoulder. You laughed out loud next to the organizers, and meanwhile Harry leaned his head on your bust, staring at you still with wide eyes. "Please promise that we will be careful with our future children on the internet."

[blindbeta]

Blind / Low Vision Person’s Review of “Blind” by Rachel DeWoskin and Why Writers Should Not Underestimate the Benefits of a Sensitivity Reader

[Content warnings: spoilers for the book. Ableism. Brief mention of an accident involving eye trauma. Mentions of suicide. Stereotypes about blind people. Also this review, because I focused on the portrayal of blindness, comes across negatively. Please know that I have no hate for the author and might even read another book she wrote. However, I did not like the way this book portrayed blindness and, as difficult as it is, I wanted to be honest in my review.]

I struggled with the title, and I’m not even sure benefits is the appropriate word. What I want to convey here is not Brought to You By Big Sensitivity Reader Company vibes, but more This Book Was Not Good and It Needed a Sensitivity Reader Very Badly vibes.

Blind is about Emma Silver, a high school student who goes blind in a traumatic accident. Here is a good summary and review by a blind person. I listened to the audiobook, which was narrated well. I’ll start by saying this will only be a review of the portrayal of blindness — I’ll try to leave my other opinions out just to keep things focused.

Unfortunately, focusing on just blindness means that it will not make this review more positive, because this book is about a blind girl recovering from going blind. In a way that is both inauthentic and swerves well out of the author’s lane. I say that because, as I hope will become apparent, this book consists of main character Emma being sad about being blind for the majority of the book. The book doesn’t simply have a character who goes blind. That is the main character’s entire arc.

This is a long review. However, I believe it will be invaluable for my readers and anyone who is interested in writing a blind character. Because this book passes most of my minimum standards for writing blind characters and was still lacking due to many factors, including stereotypes. I included many sub-headings so you can find specific topics easily.

Helpful Links

I include these links in the review. I’ll list them here for easy finding.

Here are two reviews of the book by blind readers: one and two.

Here is a video of the author talking about some of research she did for the book.

Here is my post Things I Want to See More Of / Less Of.

Here is my post about writing a blind character adjusting to being blind and being all sad about it when you aren’t blind yourself.

And finally, here is the post I shared that lists misconceptions about blind people.

The Author

The author, Rachel Dewoskin, is not blind. I did as much research as I could, but even if I hadn’t done so before reading the book, it was obvious she wasn’t blind herself. There are too many inaccuracies and offensive moments. This becomes a problem not because her MC was blind, but because she told a blind person’s story and used tropes in ways I think would be better off written by a blind person. If I’m going to read a story like this, I don’t want to read it from the perspective of a person who isn’t blind. When I get into the details of what went wrong, I hope you’ll see why.

Did the author do her research? Yes. The author met with blind people, clearly researched assistive technology and cane skills, and even taught herself contracted Braille. She talks a little about it in this video.

In fact, I wanted to say I am so impressed and grateful this author immersed herself in things like Braille and cane skills. None of my followers have shared that they went to a Lighthouse For the Blind or taught themselves to read Braille or spoken so passionately about why they loved it.

But sometimes research falls short. Or it is simply not enough.

That’s why I’m writing this review. For you writers writing blind characters when you aren’t blind. Because while the author clearly had good intentions, while the author clearly did her research and put in the time to learn and listen in ways I don’t think many of my followers have yet — the book was not authentic enough for me.

This book needed several sensitivity readers. If it had any, I would be surprised.

The Cover

The audiobook seems to have Braille on the cover, but I can’t tell if it is accessible or simply a picture of Braille. The cover features the word Blind in white print on a black background, with what seems to be Braille in rainbow colors that also spell out the title. I’ll reserve judgment here, since I don’t know the answer. If the Braille is tactile, then the cover is fantastic.

In the video I linked, the author seems to be holding the hardcover edition of the book with Braille on the cover. I can’t tell if the Braille is actually tactile or not.

What I Liked About the Book

I wanted to list a few things I liked about the book.

1. The main character is Jewish.

2. Emma has a large family full of well-developed characters and realistic portrayals of various ages. Everyone reacts uniquely to her blindness and I thought these characters were all used well. The scenes with Emma and her older sisters as well as the scenes with her mom were really great.

3. Emma gets therapy for her trauma. She also gets training to use a cane. These are annoyingly rare in stories.

4. As I said, the author clearly did her research. This is obvious when reading the book and In everything I found when researching the author after I finished it. I want to give the author praise here. I thought her explanations of technology Emma uses were the most accurate I have seen so far, both in books and when doing sensitivity reads.

What I Didn’t Like

I will start with this: Emma, after a year of learning to use her cane, is still using a cane inside her own house. After a year. This is not realistic, nor does it seem comfortable at all to use a cane in one’s own home. I don’t know anyone who does this and according to the other reviews, I am not the only one who was surprised by this.

Basically, this story would be okay with some inaccuracies. That’s to be expected. The real issue I had with this book was that it uses tropes the blind community generally hates and that the book is literally about !!! a character going blind and adapting. That’s the story. If you remove the blindness and the trauma, the story falls apart.

The author told a story that was not hers to tell and she did so badly.

If you are confused about why I dislike this, please read this post called Writing Blind Characters Accepting Being Blind When You Aren’t Blind Yourself.

What Did The Author Do Badly?

Trauma and Blindness

The story starts when main character, Emma, goes blind after a fireworks accident. Not only is this cliché, but it also tics one of my boxes in my Things I Want To See Less of post. This author wrote about a character going blind due to a traumatic accident. Link to the post.

In telling a story that was not hers to tell, here are some harmful things in the book:

The author does not do a good job of separating Emma’s trauma from her blindness. To be fair, this is difficult and most people don’t know to go about doing so with purpose. There are a lot of times in the book where the fact that Emma is traumatized leads to her saying a lot of terrible things about blindness and blind people that are never corrected or contradicted in the story. Again, if you are not sure why this is a problem, read the link I shared to my post.

Here are a few times this issue came up:

-Emma develops a habit of rocking, which myself and many reviewers know to attribute to trauma, but it isn’t clear if the author thinks blind people rock, as the stereotype indicates. Is Emma rocking as a trauma response or because she is blind? The book doesn’t make it clear. This is a time where authors need to be clear.

-Emma assumed she will never get a job, be kissed, get married, etc, after going blind.

-Emma yells about being ruined due to her blindness. The first two hours of the audiobook consist of Emma complaining about being blind. She mentions never being able to get a job a few times, assuming she won’t be able to work. While blind people do struggle with employment, this is due to discrimination, lack of transportation, lack of accommodations, lack of community support, and other systemic issues.

-Emma calls herself disfigured.

-Emma states she wanted to die. In another part of the book, when a background character we never met, Claire, completed suicide, Emma wonders if she was so focused on Claire because she wondered if she wanted to kill herself too.

-On the subject of the character, Claire, Emma states: “How easy would being gay be compared to being blind?”

This is especially damaging because some people are blind and gay. It also isn’t fair for Emma to compare them and the systemic issues that are faced by blind people and gay people. Emma not only trivializes homophobia, but also decides being blind is worse. For Emma, being blind is the worst thing ever, which is very isolating to read.

There are times where the fact that Emma is traumatized was not only grouped in with her blindness, but where the author used trauma to write ideas about blindness that are ultimately harmful.

This book, if readers of the blog want to read it, should be a lesson on why separating trauma from blindness is important. Whether that means making clear distinctions in the narrative itself or just not writing about a character going blind after a traumatic accident.

Let’s continue the overall things done badly.

Stereotypes and Tropes About Blind People

1. Rocking —

I have already mentioned the rocking thing above, but to reiterate here, not all blind people rock to orient themselves.

2. Touching Faces —

Emma and another blind character literally feel each other’s faces, one of the most hated tropes for blind people. In another scene, Emma feels another character’s face without asking.

3. Where Are the Audio Descriptions? —

Emma compares her life to a horror movie she couldn’t watch. This is a subtle reinforcement of the idea that blind people don’t watch films or television. The book makes no mention of audio descriptions. I suppose Emma and all the other blind characters simply don’t watch films or shows anymore.

4. Supposedly Fake Service Dogs —

Emma gets a dog that is specifically said to not be a guide dog. Emma brings this dog to restaurants and to school. Emma explains that she can get away with bringing her dog because no one wants to tell the blind kid no. This was, as you may be able to imagine, frustrating to read. Plenty of blind people have been denied access to transportation and buildings with a guide dog that is supposed to be able to travel freely. Emma’s blindness would absolutely not be a big help to her in bringing her dog places where it is not allowed. In showing Emma getting away with bringing her dog into restaurants when he is explicitly not a service dog, the author is contributing to a huge myth that prevents actual service dogs from traveling freely. Yes, this is only a book and it probably isn’t falling into the hands of someone powerful — however, it has probably been picked up by a business owner, a driver for public transport, a teacher, etc.

5. Avoiding words like see and look —

Emma avoids words like see and look. She also gets angry at her friends for using such words. At one point, Emma’s friend says something and Emma snaps, “I can’t see”. This prompts her friend to, according to Emma, never make that mistake again. Toward the end of the book, Emma is still avoiding such words.

Here is a list of misconceptions about blind people. Look at #6.

Here is another review of this book that also touches on this issue. The reviewer states: “The strange thing is that I’ve never known any blind person avoiding the use of words like “see” or “look.” Again, I’d hate for sighted people to read this book and think that blind folk all avoid words with visual associations; in fact, the only blind friends I talk to moan about sighted people avoiding the use of such visual words because they think we’ll be offended!”

6. All Blind People Are Apparently Totally Blind —

At one point in the story, Emma attends a school for the blind. Another character, who I think was Emma’s mother, says that the campus is beautiful. Emma makes this remark: “Why bother making a school for the blind beautiful? It’s lost on everyone anyway.”

Wow, Emma, that was rude. This is another example of where Emma’s pain and anger cause issues for readers. If they take this at face value, they may think that blind people don’t notice or appreciate beauty. More importantly, they might also assume, like Emma, that all blind people can’t see. As I have stated many times on this blog, most blind people have residual vision. Not everyone is totally blind. This is why, like beautiful grounds, schools for the blind also have things like stairs with high contrast.

7. Subtle Use of the Idea That People With Low Vision Should Rather Strain Themselves Than Be Blind —

This one was less obvious for me. However, once I thought about it again, I understood what I was reading in this character. There’s a rather outgoing character named Seb whose personality is very refreshing in this story. Seb attends the school for the blind with Emma. Seb has low vision.

So Seb wants to get a job. Remember how Emma was afraid she wouldn’t be able to get a job now that she is blind?

Instead of showing Seb getting a job to prove that idea wrong, he knows he has to conveniently not mention being blind when he applies, showing up in sunglasses and without a cane. The book states he worries he wouldn’t be able to fill out the application.

Here is what the book states:

[Quote] “He got hired without telling any of the guys who ran the place that he wasn’t sighted; I know because he had confided in me and Dee the week before that he wanted the job—if friend worked there and said they had an opening—but Seb was worried he wouldn’t be able to fill out the application. So he showed up one night before closing time, wearing sunglasses and not carrying a cane, and asked all casually if he could grab and application and bring it back the next day.

And he spent all night filling it and brought it back the next day. He didn’t mention that he was blind or that the application had taken six hours to finish with the help of his sighted brother.” [End quote]

Seb has no obligation to reveal any personal information to them. If he wants to fill out the application on his own time, in a way in which he feels comfortable, that is fine. However, the book implies he thought he would not be hired if they knew he was blind. Rather than talk about the employment discrimination that is such a huge problem for blind people, the book decides to skip over this. And rather than address Emma’s fear-based expectation that she will never get a job, presumably because she doesn’t think blind people can do anything, the book ignores it.

Seb getting a job, especially in this way, does absolutely nothing to assuage Emma’s fears. Or challenge any possible low expectations the readers may have.

Seb fills out the application by himself and it takes six hours. Six. Hours. His brother also helps him eventually and it still takes that long. No one I know, even with intense internalized ableism, would sit there for six hours doing something like that.

Seb should be using a magnifying device or a scanner app. There is tons of technology out there for people with low vision and the author chose to include absolutely none of it in the book. Instead, she chose to show a character struggling for six hours without exploring his reasons for doing so. Does he do this because of internalized ableism? If yes, how can the same character tell Emma the school will get rid of her “Poor Blind Kid bullshit”?

Now, in some families and some cultures, it would be more appropriate for a family member to help. However, the author tells us nothing more about Seb’s culture, his family life, or his motivations. I assume he did not ask for his brother’s help until later, because I can’t fathom why having a family member help from the start would take six hours.

Why is a character doing this in a story that is supposed to be about adjusting to blindness? Clinging to his remaining vision instead of using a few adaptive tools to make things easier on his eyes hardly makes him a good role model for Emma. Why is a character modeling independence in this specific way? In a way that tells Emma that it is better to struggle with a little vision than to be totally blind?

This is reinforced when Emma says some kids, including Seb, pass well. This is something that cannot be given nuance unless it is written by someone who experienced it. Otherwise, the story shows Emma over and over again that being blind is bad. Undesirable. Which is ableist.

Do people struggle with this? Absolutely. Did the author write it well? No.

And Here Are a Few Things That Could Have Been Done Better

In this section, I wanted to go over things I thought could have been done better. They aren’t necessarily harmful, but I wanted to mention them.

Sunglasses

The main character wears sunglasses when she goes out. This is likely because she has a scar she feels self-conscious about, but this is still a big stereotype that the author could have taken more care with.

O&M Issues

So Emma has someone come around to teach her orientation and mobility, which was nice. The author put in her research here as well. However, the instructor leaves after a time, which seems odd. Rather than work with her around her schools or other locations, he decides she has learned all the basics. I received O&M training until university.

Now Let’s Examine The Blind Characters vs Tropes

In this section, I want to go over the biggest tropes in the stories structure, the number of blind characters, and what I normally advise to get around these issues. We’ll see how this advice compares to how the book turned out.

So, the things to look out for are:

-tokenism

-blind characters going blind through trauma

-blind characters being sad about being blind

Examining Tokenism

Emma is not the only blind character. The blind characters include: Emma, Sebastian, Dee, and Annabelle. I normally say to have one other blind character at minimum. The book meets that requirement.

Examining Blind Characters Going Blind Through Trauma

I also normally suggest avoiding characters going blind through trauma, especially main characters. If the writer would like to go ahead with this, I normally suggest 2 or 3 other blind characters who didn’t go blind through trauma. With 2 as the minimum. I admit, I prefer the main character not to be the one going blind through trauma, simply because the main character has so much power in the perception of the reader.

Let us examine each character.

Emma - went blind through a traumatic fireworks accident

Sebastian- unknown

Dee - unknown

Annabelle- went blind through Retinitis Pigmentosa

On the topic of Dee and Seb, Emma does mention they may have better hearing, which she claims you only have if you lose your sight before the age of ten. We can guess that Dee and Seb both went blind in early childhood or were born blind, but we aren’t sure. What I want here is explicit confirmation that other characters didn’t go blind through accidents. We only get that with Annabelle and her RP.

Not only that, but the other blind characters are not in the novel as much. Annabelle only shows up at the end, seemingly as a way for Emma to help another recently blind person to show how she has developed. Seb and Dee are only in a few chapters, mostly as flashbacks. They don’t get much backstory or development either.

However, it fills my minimum requirements, so I’ll let it pass.

Examining Blind Characters Being Sad About Being Blind

This is literally Emma throughout the entire book. Until the last few chapters.

Annabelle has a similar, shorter arc, although she is only 9 at the time. Annabelle comes in near the end of the book.

It is normal for people to need an adjustment period, particularly if they are young. However, to have the entire book consist of Emma being sad and having trauma focused mostly on her blindness is not something I’m okay with. Especially because, as I wrote in this post, it can leave non-blind readers with a very negative impression of blindness. Again, why would I want to read about this arc from an author who isn’t blind? Why make the entire book about adjusting to blindness?

Anyway, then we have Seb and Dee.

There characters were refreshing in this story, which is mostly Emma being sad and angry.

Dee doesn’t seem to be sad, but we don’t know much about her. She does seem well adjusted and laidback. She and Seb go skiing, so that’s something.

Sebastian gets a little more attention in the story. He does tell Emma the school for the blind will knock the “BPK bullshit” or “Poor Blind Kid bullshit” right out of her. I thought it was funny. Sebastian also has a big personality and interests outside of moping about being blind. He enjoys skiing and, according to Emma, he would have no problem with presenting on the Lighthouse For the Blind in front of people who aren’t blind, unlike Emma, who struggles with calling attention to her blindness. Which I can understand, what with the awkward questions her sighted classmates give her.

However, Seb also has an issue with hiding or fighting against his low vision in some parts of the story. If Sebastian were the main character, I could understand some of the things he does. However, this does not go well at all with Emma’s arc.

Anyway, Seb and Dee don’t get nearly enough time in the book for me to feel 100% comfortable using them as exceptions.

How Would a Sensitivity Reader Help?

If I were doing a sensitivity read for this book, I would suggest including more about Seb and Dee and the school for the blind. I would have explained that the way the story sidelines them shows Emma is not okay associating with her blind friends. I would have asked for more backstory, more contrast between them and the main character, and possibly a few more blind characters Emma met at the school for the blind.

If the writer was insistent on having Emma go blind in an accident, I would have suggested reducing the time she spent depressed and shifting the focus from her blindness to her traumatic accident. I would have had the author work harder to separate the two, even if it took Emma a while to do so. I would have also suggested reducing Emma’s remarks or have them called out. For example, her comments about not being able to get a job or beautiful schools being lost on blind people. Sebastian would have been excellent in this role.

I would have worked with her to either get rid of or subvert the list of stereotypes. Most of them are easy fixes.

I would have told her blind people don’t use canes in their houses. I would have given suggestions for assistive technology for Seb to use. I would have helped her with the section on trauma and blindness, reducing or erasing a lot of the issues I included there. I would have suggested giving Emma an arc that isn’t entirely about adjusting to blindness, even if her story starts with going blind.

I probably would have seemed nicer about my feedback because the author still had opportunity to make changes.

The author could have done more research on stereotypes and cane usage, but I think there is an important lesson here about the benefits of sensitivity readers.

In the end, a sensitivity reader would have fixed most of the problems in this story, despite the amount of research the author did. Research cannot always teach you everything and that is where a sensually or authenticity reader comes in. Moreover, there is a certain respect in involving communities you are representing. In paying them in money or exposure. In listening to their voices and respecting what they say. If the author was willing to learn Braille and sit with blind people to learn about canes and technology, why did she stop at getting sensitivity readers? Why does it feel like she didn’t want to include the blind community in any meaningful way?

I hope this helps someone.

-BlindBeta

[ray-ray-writings]

Hey. Hey you. Idea time.

Teacher aus, not enough. Like after the whole Mr. WasTaken stuff where Dream was acting like a teacher and everything!? Just imagine a whole school Au!

Techno teachin English and he adores his kids but he’d be damned before he admits it. That one teacher who’s like “learn from history before it repeats itself.” Hates being forced to do a Shakespeare unit.

Sapnap teaching P.E. And encouraging even the less athletic kids to at least do something physical in his class. You know he pulls a prank with the Fitness Gram Pacer Test more than a few times.

George being a history teacher, I don’t know he just super fits the vibe of that one teacher you always adore who’s like “don’t worry too much about this class.”

Bad boy halo as a science teacher, man’s is the kind of teacher to give candy out to the kids who answer the questions so he can encourage attentiveness. (He teaches physical science and Skeppy teaches geoscience across the hall)

And like, much much much more, but the most important part here,

Could you totally do a reader x Dream where Readers an English teacher and Dreams a Maths teacher? :)

With all the love- 🌻 strikes again.

🌻 you have my whole heart. All of it. Because you literally have requested my dream au (pun sort of intended). Literally like this is going to be so self indulgent because I love this with my whole heart and the amount of times I have fantasized about this (especially with me studying to be an English teacher and Dream with his statistics and stuff) is too many times to count. So you literally have given me an excuse to be hella self indulgent on my own blog and I could kiss you on the mouth for it. This is a few like headcanon type things and a little bit of plot at the end. 

I do have my own ideas of what role everyone has in the school and if anyone is interested I will definitely post those too! But for the main part, you just need to know the reader is an English teacher and Dream is a Math teacher. (But also completely agree with our beloved’s ideas about some of the other boys here and I definitely have assigned everyone their own subject haha)

We’re going to just start out with this general note: Everyone in the school ships you. Teachers, Staff, Students, Principal Philza, all of them want to see you and Dream end up together. You two hang out and playfully flirt all of the time. 

Dream is almost late to school every morning. He has a horrible sleep schedule and so it causes him to wake up 30 minutes before he needs to be at school. You know this and so every morning you bring Dream coffee and something for breakfast. A donut, fruit, oatmeal, scone, just a little something to help him get until lunch. He is very grateful for it and always accepts your offer. When you first started doing it, he always felt really guilty about it. But you kept doing it and refused to take his money and so he came up with a new way to pay you back. 

You two share the same prep period. Prep period, if you didn’t know, is a free period that teachers have where they don’t have a class to teach and they can use it to lesson prep, prep materials, grade papers, or just relax. So your prep period is two classes after lunch and so you always get a little bit snackish around this time and so in order to pay you back for you bringing him breakfast, Dream brings you a little snack every day. Something small, bag of chips, granola bar, some crackers, just a little snack to get you through the rest of the day. You two also spend your prep periods together. Sometimes you chat about your days, students, lessons, standards you have to meet. Sometimes you two just work in silence on your respect tasks. Usually if a student wants to talk to you during your prep period and they can’t find you in your room, they immediately check Dream’s right after because that’s where you would be. And the same for him and his students, if they need something and he’s not in his room, he’s definitely in yours. 

You two also have lunch duty together. You two are in charge of monitoring the cafeteria and making sure that there are no fights breaking out, no food fights, just making sure everything is okay. So often times, you two take a walk around the cafeteria and just watch all the kids until all have been seated, and then you two grab some lunch for yourselves and eat together. Sometimes, kids will come over to where you’re sitting and chat with you, a lot of the time when that happens they’re trying to push you two together. You just roll your eyes and laugh them off. 

You two crash each other’s classes all the time. For random reasons too. It started when Dream had left a few copies of a worksheet on the printer and you just so happened to print some things and pick them up. His classroom was on the way to yours and so you decided you would be a good co-worker and drop them off for him. So you did, not bothering to knock before you enter. All eyes snap to you as you walk into his classroom. Dream is in the middle of teaching. His arm is extended as he points to something on the blackboard. His emerald eyes meet yours and he looks shocked but he smiles. “Teacher Y/L/N… Is there something I can help you with?” You smile back at him and hold up the worksheets, “Sorry to interrupt. Left some on the printer Mr. WasTaken,” you tell him, walking over to his desk and setting the papers down. “Ah. Thank you, I appreciate it.” You give him a small shrug, “Of course. Have a good class. Pay attention!” You call to the class cheerfully before heading out and heading to your own classroom. 

That day you opened a door you couldn’t shut. Every once in a while now, while you’re in the middle of teaching, the door will swing open and Dream will waltz in with a paper or something in his hand and go over to your desk before giving you a wave and a wink and heading back out. So you decided to do it too, even if you have nothing to give him. Students look forward to your classes now because they never know if the other one of you will make an appearance. One time, Dream walked in and you were so engrossed in teaching that you didn’t even notice. He walked over to your desks and took a seat and just lost himself in watching you teach. About 10 minutes later there is a knock on your door, startling everyone out of their focus. The door opens and there’s Tommy with a wicked grin on his face. His eyes immediately find Dream and he smirks, “Mr. WasTaken… Would you like to join the rest of us in class?” Dream manages to keep the blush off of his face, but he is internally dying. To save some embarrassment he says, “Yes I’ll be there in just a moment. I had a question for Teacher Y/L/N and I didn’t want to interrupt. Go back to class Tommy.” Tommy rolls his eyes but complies. You rush over to Dream and duck your head near his and speak in a low tone, “I’m sorry. I didn’t even realize you came in, what was your question?” Dream is a little baffled and thrown off, because he doesn’t have one. “Oh. I’ll just come back later and ask. Sorry for the interruption.” And before you can say anything else, he’s out the door. 

You and Dream often charapone school dances. You two, much like when you have lunch duty, patrol around and make sure everyone is having a good time but is also behaving themselves. Students are always trying to push you two together during this, asking Mr. WasTaken if he’s going to ask you to the dance or at least ask you to dance. He always laughs and says no, no he’s not. Until one time he does. 

He definitely gets his students in on it. He buys a bunch of flowers and has the students line the hall making a path from the entrance doors to his room. So when you arrive in the morning and begin your usual path to his room to drop off breakfast, you’re surprised to find a line of students offering flowers to you. You carefully take each flower and make your way down to Dream’s room. When you get to the end you find Dream standing there with a cheesy grin and an even cheesier sign. ‘I would love it if you could say that you was taken to the dance by Mr. WasTaken.’ You can’t help but let out a laugh and nod at the sign. “Yeah?” Dream asks to confirm. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll go to the dance with you Mr. WasTaken… by the way, it’s you were taken to the dance,” you tease him lightly, reaching out and giving him a small hug before handing him his breakfast. He takes it, rolls his eyes, and hands you the sign. “English teachers.” 

The day of the dance comes and you and Dream arrive together. He picks you up from your house and brings you a bouquet of flowers, red roses and sunflowers. Your outfit would match his and you would look stunning. It would literally take Dream a few tries to snap out of the trance you put him in. But he’s the perfect gentleman, opens the car door for you and closes it before getting in and driving to the school where he does the same thing, opening the car door and helping you out before closing it. 

You two would have arrived a bit earlier before the dance actually started to make sure everything was taken care of. You two would definitely jokingly get your photo taken by the professional photographer that they hired for the event. It was a joke, but the picture came out so good and was just too good to pass up. 

You two don’t leave each other’s side the entire night. You two just stick side by side the entire night, just watching the kids. You two join the students sometimes on the dance floor, vibing to the fast pace songs they played. Every time a slow song came on, the students tried to push you together and get you to dance together. “Who asks someone to be their date and doesn’t slow dance with them?” But you two just ignore the students and shoo them off to dance with each other and stuff. It’s not until they announce the final song of the night does Dream actually finally get bold enough to ask you to slow dance with him. Your face heats up at the extended hand and the hopeful look on his face but you accept it and the two of you dance. You somehow manage to end up in the middle of the room and even though there are plenty of people slow dancing, all eyes are on you two. You don’t care though. At some point, you lean forward and rest your head on Dream’s chest. You could very clearly hear his heart racing faster than you would think possible and you can’t help but wonder if it’s because of you. 

As the song ends, you manage to pull your head away from him. You look up at him and find him already staring at you. You two just stare at each other for a few moments before Dream makes a bold move. He carefully leans forward and presses his lips to yours. You immediately kiss back, ecstatic that your feelings were returned. Around you, the entire gym bursts into cheers and applause and “FINALLY!!!!” 

You pull away from Dream, giggling a little bit at the reaction of everyone. Dream doesn’t let you get far though. He tilts his head forward and connects your lips once more. “I just got you, I’m not letting you get away from me that easily.” You just giggle at that and kiss him back. 

You two don’t pull away until the song is completely over. When you pull apart and look around, you find everyone staring at you. Some students even have their phones out and were recording you. The two of you just laugh and roll your eyes. “Dance is over… Get out,” Dream jokingly calls out to everyone causing waves of laughter to rumble through the crowds as everyone snaps out of their trance and begin to move. You and Dream stay to help clean up a bit after the dance before the two of you leave, this time hand in hand. 

Dream would drop you off at home. He walks you to your front door and waits as you unlock the door. It’s quiet for a moment as you two try to figure out the next step. Dream finally clears his throat and offers you a sheepish smile. “I’ll see you Monday then?” You almost immediately answer with a ‘yep sounds good’ but stop yourself. “Actually… If you weren’t too busy, do you want to come in and watch a movie or something?” Dream grins at the offer and nods. “I’d love to… Thank you.” 

The two of you head inside and just hang out for a while. You watch movies and cuddle on the couch. It gets to be really late and you refuse to let Dream drive home this late so he sleeps on your couch. The next morning you have a nice breakfast together before Dream tells you he really should get going, he still has some tests to grade. You of course understand that teacher grind and so you walk him to your door. Dream gives you a kiss before heading out and telling you he would see you tomorrow. 

Walking back inside, you find his suit jacket laid over the couch. You decide to hold on to it. You’ll see him tomorrow anyway, you’ll just give it to him then. So the next morning rolls around and you arrive at school, the suit jacket adorning your shoulders. It makes everyone stop, look, and smile. You don’t even notice really. You make your way to Dream’s classroom, walking right in as normal. Dream glances up to see who it was before looking back to his work but he immediately looks back up in a double take. And he just stares. You extend the breakfast out to him and he doesn’t take it. Just stares. You’re confused. 

“Dream?” He extends a finger and points at you, “You’re wearing… that’s my… that’s mine.” he manages to stutter out. You look at your shoulders and realize. “Oh. Right. Sorry. Here,” you say, trying to shrug off the jacket and hand it to him, but he stops you. “No, no, no. It’s fine… It’s better than fine. It looks good. Keep it on… Please?” He sounds so genuine that you pull the jacket back on, over your shoulder. “Okay… I’ll see you at lunch?” You ask, heading toward his door. He gives you a grin and a nod, “It’s a date.” Well that’s new…. But not unwelcome. “It’s a date.” 

You two begin dating shortly after that. You also find out that there were two betting pools going on. One between teachers and staff and the other between students. The teacher that won? Techno. The student? Tubbo. Had you found out sooner, you probably would have been offended but now it just made you laugh. Your new relationship didn’t change anything really. You still did all of the things that you usually did, you just now could kiss each other. You definitely didn’t do PDA in front of the students for obvious reasons, but you two couldn’t be happier.

Thank you again so much for letting me do this  🌻 anon. This was very self indulgent and just thank you :)

[whereisten]

Cat and Mouse

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | more coming soon

Summary: You’re the daughter of an extremely well-known pastor. You’ve lived a quiet and sheltered life, that is until you meet and fall in lust with a gang leader they call the Grim Reaper.

Pairing: Gang Leader And Yandere!Taeyong X female reader (college student)

Genre: angst, SMUT, violence, if you squint there may be some fluff

Warnings: graphic and violent scenes described, murder, mentions of religious practices (this in no way is meant to offend followers of Christianity), blood and death mention, character death, gun and knife mention, profanity, toxic relationship, little alcohol use, drug addiction themes, stalking, manipulation, blackmail, waterboarding (torture), obsession, posessiveness, sexual assault is briefly mentioned. Breast fondling, thigh riding, corruption/innocence kink, pet names, recording of sexual acts, oral sex (male and female), car sex, unprotected sex, penetration, sir kink, breeding kink, bdsm themes (choking, restraints, knife play, intense gun play, blood play), orgasm denial, overstimulation, c*eampie. Ohmygodihopeilistedeverything

Word Count: 26.2K (I had to make up for not updating this for MONTHS)

Tag list: @teddybella @suhfluffy @adorejaehyn @jennieshairstrand @markyongcore @promisesandchances @yeetyeethoe @ericafujimura @5shotsamericano @jonginvlog @dudamoreira12 @saratyongf @ncteaxhoe @steamyjaehyun @neostains @stansuperm @alreadyblondenow @suhweo @daanniee @shiningstarsarah @kikomizukii @thepeachystars @ashleyyxoxo @katallest-katolis @onestop-shot @lollokilnala @jaehyunswifey​ @chlwpgk​ @theworld-accordingtocasey​

DISCLAIMER AND A/N: where do I start? First of all, as mentioned in part 1, Taeyong is a manipulative and evil man in this, please remember this is fiction and definitely DOESNT represent the real Taeyong. The acts of violence are graphically described, I’m talking blood and gore, please do not read if you are sensitive to these things. Also, Taeyong is yandere in this, Hes not a true and honest lover and I hope that we all understand that what he does is sickening and wrong. This is also influenced by the manhwa, Killing Stalking. With that being said, I am so sorry for taking forever to update this, but I hope you all think it was worth the wait at the end❤️

[A Week After Thanksgiving]

“Mark...I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

You held Mark’s hand as you exited the elevator in the hospital and squeezed it lightly.

Mark turned and gave you a small smile. “It’s alright, thank you for being here with me now.” His eyes were wide and adorable as they always were. He had no idea that you were the cause for his pain, that you knew exactly who hurt him and could bring him to justice, but refused to.

Taeyong wore his skull mask when he attacked Mark and refused to mention you, so Mark thought he was just the victim of a random attack..he didn’t think it was—personal.

It had a been a few months since it all happened and you were slowly becoming more comfortable with keeping the truth to yourself. After all, you loved Taeyong, you were dating now and you couldn’t bear the thought of being without him. He made you feel wanted, desired, and loved. He showed you new things, he made your life so much more exciting that it was before.

Yes, he messed up by hurting Mark, but he told you he would never do it again..just as long as you did what he said.

And so you hoped that he’d never discover you here with Mark today at the hospital. Mark had to take a few X-rays to ensure that his ribs were healing correctly. You went with him because it’s the least you could do for being the cause of all this.

The two of you now waited for the doctor to come in with the X-ray prints in his assigned hospital room. You shimmy off your coat and hang it on a hook by the door while Mark lays in the hospital bed, still in his gown.

“These gowns are kinda awkward, like If I sit up right now, you’d get a clean look at my bum.” Mark laughed, his eyes shutting tightly.

You laughed out too. “Oh, then don’t sit up please, just imagining that makes my eyes water.”

“Y/n...there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you..” Mark cleared just throat as his tone grew more serious.

Oh no. Is he going to ask you about that night? Does he know that you know who his attacker is?

You nod slowly and bite your lips.

“I feel like..we’ve known each other for a while now..and with finals coming up and everything..I know we’ll be away from each other for a while..but when all this is over..would you like to go..ice skating with me..just me?”

Your mouth falls open and your eyes widen. Was he really asking you out?

“You know..there’s that new park with the Christmas lights and cool decorations..we can grab something to eat before..or-or after, whichever works for you..” Mark swallows hard as he waits for your answer.

“Mark...that’s really..this is really sudden..I’m not sure..”

“It’s okay! Don’t worry about it.” Mark gives an awkward laugh.

“I-I appreciate it, Mark. But I’m kinda seeing someone right now.” You pout and look away from his round eyes.

Had you not known Taeyong, you probably would’ve gone with Mark. It was an adorable idea, you loved spending time with him. And while you couldn’t see him as a romantic interest for all these years, maybe a date would’ve changed your mind. But it was too late, you loved Taeyong.

“Oh? Who is it? How have I never met him?” Mark’s mouth fell, but he didn’t look upset, he looked happy for you rather.

You nodded quickly and opened your mouth to speak, but the grumbling of your stomach interrupted you. You laughed in an effort to cover up the sound, but Mark’s eyes floated down from your face and to your stomach while you clutched it.

He smiled slowly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t eat anything before we came here.” You looked away, feeling your face become hot.

Mark chuckled. “It’s okay! I’m hungry too, there’s a Starbucks downstairs, wanna grab something for yourself and for me too?”

“Sure!” You jumped up from your chair, thankful for an excuse to leave this somewhat awkward conversation.

“I’ll be right back!”

You headed downstairs and ordered a protein pack and coffee for Mark and a muffin for yourself. You thanked the cashier and hurried back to the elevator.

It was crowded with people at first, but as you approached your floor on one of the higher levels, more and more visitors, nurses and doctors started to exit.

All except for one.

The man dressed in scrubs kept his head down, his hair tucked into a blue surgical cap and his face covered with a face mask. You stood in the corner of the elevator and watched him closely. Something about him seemed off. Why was he holding his head down? Why did he stand in the middle of the elevator with his arms crossed?

But then again, maybe he was worried about something, maybe you were over thinking.

You sighed and leaned your head onto the wall. It felt like the longest ride ever to your floor. You looked at the numbers on the elevator light up as you passed each floor.

But then, you heard the man chuckle lowly. It was a haunting sound, a familiar sound.

His crackling voice echoed in the now empty elevator. Your brows furrowed and you stood up straight. 

“Oh little mouse, what am I going to do with you?”

That voice..

Taeyong turns and walks towards you and before you can even comprehend what’s happening, he presses your body into the corner of the elevator.

You fall back, your grip on your bag with food and coffee tightening as you swallow hard.

Taeyong’s eyes are dark, filled with fire and disappointment as he stares into your eyes.

You barely recognize him in the doctor’s uniform, but you finally notice the neck tattoo he had.

How did he know you were here?

Your mouth falls open, you can’t even form coherent sentences as he towers over you and gives you an evil look like he’s ready to kill you slowly..and painfully.

“You love him, don’t you?” Taeyong spits out angrily.

“Wait..wait Tae, I can explain.” You shake your head.

“He doesn’t have anyone to go with him to his doctors appointment, it’s the least I could do.”

“I don’t give a shit if that loser doesn’t have anyone to be with, you aren’t supposed to be here! You were supposed to listen to me! How many times do I have to tell you you’re mine?” Taeyong’s voice grows louder, he slams his hand onto the wall beside your head.

“You’re the one that put him here! How can you be so..so selfish? He doesn’t deserve any of this?!”

“And I do? I deserve to be hurt by you going behind my back to be with him? You aren’t loyal to me and that hurts, y/n.” Taeyong’s face softened a bit as he searched your eyes.

“Behind your back? You’re not my father! I don’t have to answer to you, you won’t even claim me to your friends and you expect me to be loyal to you?”

“Oh and loyalty? Taeyong, I could easily tell everyone all that you’ve done. I could tell the police, news stations, EVERYONE..”

Taeyong suddenly grips your throat, stopping you mid rant, and leans in closer. “But you won’t..will you?”

You grit your teeth, breathing heavily as he tightens his hold.

“Everything I did, I did for you..you ungrateful brat.” He releases you, but quickly takes you by the wrist and leads you out of the elevator. He hurriedly brushes past all of the nurses in the hallway, no one suspecting him even as he drags you behind him.

He finally finds an empty room. He tosses you inside and locks the door behind him.

He takes your bag and coffee from you and places it onto a table by the window, leaving you standing there in the middle of the room with your mouth agape.

He stares out the window and begins to talk to himself.

 “I let you out of my sight for one moment and you do this to me? I thought I was clear the first time. But it seems I wasn’t. Oh little mouse, don’t you know I don’t like repeating myself?”

 He turns back to you slowly. His low eyes stare into yours as he takes his mask off, and you finally see the handsome face of your lover.

His lips are pursed and he steps closer to you.

“Taeyong..” you swallow hard, nervous by his calm demeanor. He watches you like a predator watching his prey, he’s unpredictable and like a stranded gazelle, you’re not sure what to do, where to run to.

Do you run out the door and make him even more upset? Do you press the buzzer and call for help?

You could do anything to get away from him right now, but you don’t. Why? Because you want him.

“Get on the bed..” once in front of you he pushes your chest lightly, making you stumble on the hospital bed behind you. You push yourself up on both elbows while breathing heavily, watching as he crawls over you slowly and carefully.

His breath now on your lips as you tremble under him. “How will you make this up to me, little mouse?” He tilts his head and stares at your lips, the gazes down your neck.

“I-“

“Put your hands above your head..”

On impulse, you do as he says.

He still stares at you while grazing your neck lightly with his soft lips. He dips his hand into his pocket and pulls something out, but you can’t figure out what it is.

His eyes break away fro your neck and go to your hands where he tightens one zip tie around each wrist and the metal bar of the bed.

He tightens them tightly, watching as you squeal and fidget under him.

“Taeyong..I want to touch you..please.” 

Your high pitched begging and innocent expression almost gets to Taeyong, but he shakes off the feeling and stares at your chest sticking up in the air.

He pushes himself up away from you, forcing your legs further apart as he takes a kneeling position between them.

Your button down dress rides up your thighs and to your hips as a result, just barely exposing your panties to him.

Taeyong bites his lips and runs his hands up your thighs slowly while groaning. His thumbs press into the soft skin as they work their way up to the apex of your legs.

Your breath hitches and you lick your lips.

“Taeyong..touch me.”

“You’re always begging, little mouse.” Taeyong  chuckles, his hands now running up your sides and squeezing your breasts through the fabric gently.

A shakey breath leaves your lips as you wriggle under him, anxious to feel more as your panties become increasingly wet just from his touch.

He takes your lips on his into an angry kiss, biting the bottom and licking over it. 

He slowly pumps your breast through the fabric, adoring your mewls and the way your head falls back as you ache for more.

“Wearing black I see? You’re dressed appropriately for a funeral.” He chuckles through his lips now covered with your red lipstick then takes his own time unbuttoning the buttons one by one to reveal more and more of your beautiful skin.

Once all of the buttons have been undone, he separates the limp fabric covering your chest and stomach.

You hiss with the sudden exposure to the frigid air.

“Oh? And no bra? Is this how Mark likes it? Oh, what has he done to my innocent girl?”

Taeyong’s look of danger makes you move under him again. His dark eyes are so tempting, but mysterious. You just wish he’d touch you again.

“We..we never did anything, Taeyong. I promise.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Taeyong runs his cold hands up your abdomen again, this time, letting them rest around your neck, as if to choke you once more.

You fidget under him while you try to think of what to say.

“You’re squirming like there’s something inside you already maybe we should get it out.” Taeyong lets your breasts go and reaches over for something on the small table beside the bed.

He raises the shiny object to his face and smiles widely. “Let’s play doctor.”

His husky voice lets out.

He brings a scalpel to your chest with the sharp blade just barely pressing into it.

You take in a sharp breath, your chest collapsing at the feeling of the cold metal on you.

“Taeyong..”

“Taeyong? It’s doctor to you.”

“Doctor..what are you doing?” You gulp.

Taeyong’s mouth tilts upward into a smirk as he watches the scalpel dance on your skin, threatening to break into it if he just applies a bit more pressure.

“How does this feel, little mouse?” He draws the scalpel along your thigh now, stopping just before your folds.

“Is it cold? Does it hurt?” Taeyong pauses before continuing, looking into your large eyes and glancing down at your swollen, parted red lips.

He then looks down to your beautiful skin and hums lowly. “Mmmmm I like the way your skin is reacting.”

Your arms and neck are littered with goose pimples, every slight tough from the knife makes you shiver, but you’re even more turned on for some reason.

“Can you feel the edge when I press it into you?”

Taeyong looks into your eyes as he presses the scalpel a little harder onto your belly.

“Y-yes, I can feel it, Doctor. Please, don’t hurt me.” You bite your lips.

Taeyong chuckles. “I’m not going to hurt you, I’m in control, just relax. I haven’t actually cut you..yet.”

He bites his lips then looks down at your hard nipples. He feels his member poke through the thin fabric of his scrubs, he knows he can’t hold back, but he’d love to have you like this for a longer time. You’re tied up and on full display just for him. Your eyes still hold that innocent look that he adored. That unknowing look that makes him so weak as he ruins you time and time again.

He circles the scalpel around your nipple. The delicate feeling makes your head spin. You can’t think of anything but him. You moan and bring your body up towards him more.

“Please.”

He looks down at your soaking panties and smirks. “You seem to be liking this a lot.”

He uses a finger to bring down the thin fabric covering your aching opening. You jump in response to his finger just barely grazing against it.

He then takes the scalpel and slowly cuts the fabric, your pussy now exposed to him. He licks his lips and leans down to lick your nipples.

“Yes...that feels good.”

You swear you could cum just from the feeling of his wet tongue circling around your nipple.

He sucks on it fervently as you struggle against your restraints. You can feel his hard member brush against your folds and you just want to stroke it before greeting it with your needy flower.

Taeyong then kisses your neck, his hands still pumping your breasts as he grinds down into you.

“Tell me..where it hurts..” he says in between kisses.

“Tell the doctor what you need, little mouse.”

He licks a long stripe up your neck then bites into it as you yelp.

“Please..Doctor. I need relief down there. I need you to fuck me.” You whine and struggle again.

Taeyong groans and lowers the waistband of his scrubs. He pushes two fingers deep into your opening without warning. Your legs shift on the bed as you throw your head back and moan loudly. 

“How about this?” Taeyong teases you as he slowly moves his fingers in and out, curving the top of them so they hit your sweet spot.

And while it does feel good to have something inside you, you know you need more.

“No..no doctor, I need you.”

Taeyong chuckles as he takes his fingers out and replaces it with his dick, pushing into you so hard, the bed creaks as it moves and hits the wall.

“Yes! Yes, that’s it.” You cry out.

He sucks your nipple again, but your silk walls closing around his aching member makes him dizzy. He anchors himself with his hands on your thighs and focuses on pushing in harder, deeper than ever before.

Your mouth falls open as he ruins you, driving you crazy with each thrust. The sounds of his low groans and his hips snapping into yours fill your ears.

Your mind goes empty, you can only think of one word.

Taeyong.

He’s all you can think of as you begin to unravel. He soothes your nerves and needs with his cock stretching you out and you couldn’t be more relieved.

He takes your ankles into his hands and places both legs on his shoulders, burying into you at a different angle.

Your head falls back as you moan loudly, not caring about who could possibly hear you in the hallway or next room over.

He smirks as he looks down at you going insane from his movements. He then places two fingers onto your neglected clit, massaging it as he slides in and out of your quivering pussy faster.

“Oh, I’m going to..I’m going to cum.” Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You’re so overwhelmed with pleasure.

“That’s it, little mouse, the doctor is making you feel so good.”

He sticks his tongue out and licks your breast again, covering it in spit as you begin to leak onto the sheets below you.

Your eyes shut tightly and begin to roll in the back of your head as you cum.

Taeyong continues to fuck you hard, the metal bar hitting the wall at a steady pace now as he approaches his own high. He watches your quivering pussy swallow his dick and coat it in your cum.

Your body falls weak while you come down. You can only feel over sensitivity as Taeyong continues to use your body. He watches your breasts jump with each thrust and groans, your eyes wet with tears and your wrists becoming irritated from struggling against the zip ties. Everything about you is so perfect to him.

He slides out of you quickly before stroking his member and releasing onto your belly.

He breathes heavily, locking eyes with yours while every drop escapes onto your perfect skin.

He collects the cum with the scalpel he placed to the side. You tremble and watch.

“Open your mouth.” He demands.

You open your mouth and stick your tongue out.

“Lick it, carefully, we wouldn’t want that wonderful tongue of yours getting cut, would we?” He places the scalpel with his cum onto your tongue. You lick it off slowly, praying that you don’t cut your tongue in the process.

While you do that, he traces his fingertips around and in between your folds to collect your juices, then sticks his fingers into his mouth and licks the essence off.

He leans down and kisses you, his tongue circling around yours to combine your seed with his.

You moan into his mouth as you kiss and taste each other.

When he pulls away, he looks onto you lowly and licks his lips.

He tucks his member back into his pants and gets off of the bed while wiping his mouth.

He watches you on the bed with your arms tied to it still, you look up at him questioningly. Why was he taking so long to let you loose?

He fixes his mask over his face. “You’re too good to let go..I’ll have to kill Mark for good.”

Your eyes widen and you tug harshly against the ties. “No! No, no you can’t!”

“Why not? Do you love him?”

“Taeyong! It’s not like that at all! Please trust me, he’s just my friend.” You start to cry, there’s nothing you can do, you’re tied to the bed.

“I'm doing this for us.” Taeyong takes the scalpel and puts it into his shirt pocket before heading to the door.

“No! No you can’t! There’s cameras! You won’t get away with this, Taeyong! I swear I will tell everyone the truth this time!” You tell in a last minute attempt to stop this crazy man from hurting Mark.

Taeyong chuckles. “That almost sounded like a threat..” he turns back to you and gives you a dark expression, you tremble and cower down.

“but I’ll forget about it because I love you..also, my guys will take care of everything, even getting you out of here.Just sit tight while I take care of this.”

Taeyong ignores your cries, shuts the door, and hurries to the elevator. He heads up to Mark’s floor.

Once on the floor, he walks over to the nurse at the main desk on the floor and asks for his room.

“I’m Doctor Lee, I need to follow up with a patient named Mark. Which room is he in?”

Meanwhile, you yell loudly, trying to get anyone’s attention while also trying to slither out of the ties. But unfortunately they’re too tight. The floor also appears to be relatively empty as no one seems to hear you.

After several minutes, a nurse finally runs into the room and is startled to find you naked and tied to the bed.

“Please! Please stop him! He’s gonna kill Mark!”

The nurse runs over to the bed and quickly looks for scissors to cut you loose. “What happened? Who did this to you? Are you okay?”

You’re hysterical as she cuts you loose. She can barely figure out what you’re saying. “No, please don’t worry about me! We have to find him before-“

“Shhh..ma’am you have to breathe, you have to slow down, I am going to help-“

She’s interrupted by the sound of a loud alarm blaring through the hospital.

“Code Red! Code Red! Everyone please find an escape route or escape room immediately.” The automated message echoes through the halls then repeats again.

The nurse’s eyes widen while she helps you button your dress up.

“Code red? Shit.”

“Miss, what does that mean?!” You jump off the bed and rub your wrists.

“That means there’s someone yielding a weapon in the hospital, they may or may not have already hurt people. Come with me! We have to go to the escape room!” She takes your hand as she opens the door, but you pull it away and run off towards the stairwell.

“Ma’am!!” She yells after you but you don’t stop, you run up the stairs to Mark’s floor.

Tears continue to fall as you sniffle and run.

You can’t believe you were so stupid to let Taeyong do this..again.

You could only pray that you would reach Mark in time.

You push the door open and are finally on Mark’s floor. As you run towards it, you notice there’s a loud ruckus by his room.

“No..”

You run even faster, pushing past the nurses as you get closer. But what you see stops you in your tracks.

Mark is on the hospital bed being pushed by several nurses and a doctor. They hurry to an operating room, but it seems like you were too late. 

Your hand flies over your mouth at the sight.

The same scalpel that Taeyong used on you sticks out of the brown haired boys neck. Blood gushes out and splatters the nurses uniforms. His eyes are closed and he seems to be choking, begging for air.

“I’m not getting a pulse! Move faster, we’re running out of time!!” A nurse yells as they rush past you.

Time seems to move in slow motion. You can’t think clearly, you can only feel pain. Your head spins. You hold onto the wall for support. How could he do this? How could he kill someone innocent? This was all your fault. 

You held your head in your hands and screamed loudly as you banged it onto the wall behind you.

“This is all my fault!! Oh, God! Why?!” You cry uncontrollably.

All the memories of Taeyong flooded your brain. It’s because of him. Your life turned upside down because of the devil with a sly smile and tempting touch. And you fell for it every time, like a fool, you fell into his trap.

You had to get away from him, he wasn’t going to let you go easy, you had to run.

So you bolted out of the hospital and into the snow without your coat or cell phone so he wouldn’t be able to track you.

You ran fast, the cold, harsh air stabbing your throat. Everything became a blur, you couldn’t see where you were going, but you knew that you just had to keep running.

You finally found a bus that had just approached its stop. You jumped onto it and headed to the back immediately. You sat down and held your face in your hands as you sobbed quietly, eventually drifting to sleep.

————

You’re woken up by a quick tap on the shoulder.

Your eyes open slowly to see the bus driver smiling at you fondly.

“Ma’am, this is the last stop.”

You sit up straight and rub your eyes. “Wh-what time is it? Where am I?”

“It’s 10 p.m, you’re at the last stop on the east side of town. Are you..alright? Shall I call for someone to help you home?”

You shake your head and look outside to see darkness. “No..no I’m fine, I’ll just go, thank you.”

You grab your bag and step off of the bus, walking quickly to the brightly lit downtown area. There had to be somewhere that had an available phone to call your parents from.

But then again, should you call them? What if Taeyong tapped their phones too? What if he was after them now that you were missing? He wouldn’t hurt them if they truly didn’t know where you are, right?

You hold yourself tightly and continue to walk briskly through the freezing streets.

“Miss? Do you need a coat?” A man calls out to you, but you shake your head and walk faster. The last thing you wanted was for some random man to try to “help” you.

Additionally, you didn’t know how many men worked for Taeyong. Once he told them to look for you, they could be anywhere, just waiting in the shadows to grab you up.

You found a table outside of a restaurant and sat down to take a break once you were far away from the man.

You held your head down and rubbed your eyes. 

What could you do now? You’re alone in a new town with no cellphone and you can’t just call your parents or friends.

You were too busy in thought to notice that the lights in the restaurant had been shut off now.

“Ma’am, excuse me, but we’re closed now and I have to put the chairs away- wait, don’t I know you?” The man’s voice interrupted you.

You looked up slowly and sat back in your chair. “Ah yes, I’m sorry, I was just resting..”

You wipe your eyes then rub your hands together to warm yourself, but when you look up at the man speaking to you, you instantly recognize him.

“J-Jaehyun from History 201?”

Jaehyun smiles and drops the garbage bag he’s holding.

“Y/n? How are you? It’s nice to see you.”

You nod and smile. You hoped you didn’t look at terrible as you felt. You had been crying all day, your eyes must’ve looked ridiculously swollen.

“I’m-I’m sorry, for uhhh, coming here like this.”

You looked down at the floor, and away from his handsome face.

You always had a weakness for Jaehyun. He was your partner in class last year and helped you with your final project the most. He was kind, always sparing time to help you with flashcards and study for hours into the late night at the library.

“Oh, no worries! I haven’t seen you around campus a lot this year, it’s nice to see you now! Wait, where’s your jacket? It’s freezing out here.”

“Oh..I don’t have one, I sorta ran here..actually, it’s a long story.”

“I’ll be right back, I’m gonna close up and grab you a coat, okay?” Jaehyun smiled widely then grabbed the garbage bag and turned the corner to go to the dumpster.

You immediately jumped up and started walking. 

Not again, not again. 

You couldn’t get another innocent and kind person involved with Taeyong. If he or any of his men even glimpsed Jaehyun with you, they’d beat him to a pulp.

You paced through the streets, and looked around for any restaurant that would be open late.

You felt terrible for running away from him when he was only filled with good intentions, but you had to to protect him.

About fifteen minutes into walking down a new street, you hear the honking of a car horn.

You step to the right and further away from them, but the person slows down and matches your pace. You don’t dare to look over, you only walk faster and look for possible routes to run through to get away from them.

“Hey! I told you to wait! What are you doing?”

Jaehyun yells out through the passenger window.

“Please, Jaehyun, I just can’t..I can’t be seen with you right now. It’s difficult to explain.” You held yourself and marched forward.

“Whatever is going on with you can wait! Right now, you’re about to catch pneumonia if you don’t get out of the freezing cold. Hop in! And I’m not asking this time.”

Jaehyun turns his car in front you swiftly once at a pedestrian walk way, you’re forced to stop walking. You look up at him with red, watery eyes.

“Please, y/n..I want to help you.”

You take one final glance at the area around you and see no one in sight, so you jump into the car and take off.

——————

Jaehyun takes you to his small apartment.

You step into the living room as he locks the door behind him.

“Do you live here..by yourself?”

Jaehyun chuckles as he takes his coat off and throws it into the coat closet.

His muscles now showing clearly in his tight white shirt.

You gulp and look away quickly.

“Yes, I live here by myself, over 15 miles away from campus..why? Well, for starters, that restaurant we were at is my family’s restaurant. It’s left in my care, so I have to be closer to it than I am to school.” Jaehyun shrugs before continuing. “And no roommates because who wants to be so far away?”

You give a small smile and look at the tiny but cozy apartment. It was much different from your house where you had floors and rooms that were endless.

No wonder why Jaehyun is so humble and giving.

“Yeah, it’s not much, but it’s enough.”

He trots past you and to the kitchen. “Take a seat, I’ll get you a glass of water.”

Jaehyun washes his hands while you sit down onto the couch in his living room. He then sits down beside you and hands you a glass.

“Do you need anything? A jacket, a blanket, change of clothes?” Jaehyun stares at you through wide eyes.

You laugh and smile widely again. “You’re too kind, Jaehyun..but some sweats and a T would be amazing right now.”

Jaehyun immediately jumps up and heads to his room. A few minutes later he hands you Nike sweatpants and a plain white T. 

“The bathroom is on the right, feel free to change in there.”

You thank him profusely before heading to the bathroom.

You cringe when you see yourself. Your hair is messy, unkempt, your eyes are swollen like they were stung by bees, and your neck donned a love bite courtesy of Taeyong.

You washed your face and did your best to fix your hair before heading out.

Once beside Jaehyun, you take a deep breath and explain everything to him.

“Jaehyun...I don’t know what to do..I hope that you will not judge me.” 

Jaehyun shakes his head. “It is not my job to judge, y/n, go on.”

“There’s a man..I love him..well, I think I love him. He makes me feel...new, unexplainable things. He makes my heart weak… but Jaehyun, he is a bad man. He’s hurt my friend, and I-I dont think I can be with him anymore..” you start to cry again. “So I ran away.”

“Shhh..shhh don’t cry, you did the right thing. It hurts now, but I believe you will be happier now that you are away from him.” Jaehyun holds you close, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and looking into your eyes deeply.

Jaehyun was right, you were away from him and running was the right thing to do. But why did it feel wrong? Why do you feel guilty? Why did you feel like the one that betrayed him?

“Would you like to tell the cops about him?” Jaehyun rubs his hand along your arm. His touch is soothing, his broad chest makes him feel at home. You slowly start to lean into him more.

“No..no, I still love him. I can’t..plus he’s smart, he’ll get away with it, and take me again.”

But you want to be taken, don't you, little mouse?

You close your eyes tightly in an attempt to drown out his voice.

“That’s alright then, y/n. We don’t have to tell anyone.”

Jaehyun whispers.

Tell him what I did, tell him how good I made you feel just today. Your legs around me as I fucked you hard into that flimsy hospital mattress. Your essence dripping down your shaking thighs, the way you called my name...

You breathed slowly. Don’t think of him, don’t think of him.

“I’m so scared, Jaehyun, I don’t know what to do. What if he hurts someone else that I love?” You sob into his chest.

“Don’t be scared, y/n. I’m here now, he won’t find you in this little, dingy apartment, okay? And you can stay here as long as you’d like, don’t worry.”

You nod. “I-I don’t have my phone because that’s what he uses to track me. Jaehyun, he’s a dangerous man, you must not tell ANYONE that I am here.”

Jaehyun’s brows furrowed. What kind of man would track his lover? He didn’t like the sound of him, but he was happy to know that you were out of that crazy man’s grasp and with him now where you’d be safe.

“I understand, y/n. I won’t tell anyone, not even your parents.”

You smile and thank him once more.

“You can sleep on the bed, I’ll take the couch.” He says before standing up from beside you.

—————

[One Week Later] 

It’s been a few days since you ran away. You stayed inside Jaehyun’s apartment quietly, not even opening the window to look out at the sunshine and snow.

Jaehyun would visit you during the day whenever he had time. He just wanted to make sure you were safe.

But then he’d leave and head to work or school to prepare for exams.

You prepared for exams on an old laptop that he found at a thrift store for you. You would draft up emails to all of your professors, letting them know that you wouldn’t be able to attend class because you were mourning the death of your close friend, Mark.

Jaehyun would then send the emails once he was on campus so that if Taeyong and his men decided to hack into your account and search for you IP address, they would be met with the college IP address and not Jaehyun’s.

It was an elaborate, but tiring plan, but so far it seemed to work. 

Jaehyun also visited the post office to drop off a letter for your parents. You hoped it would get to them for it explained that you were alright and safe far away from the college. You stated that you needed to take some time away to grieve your loss and you hoped that they would try to be okay with that.

Knowing your parents, you knew they would have a fit at you running away and leaving your cell phone behind. But they had no choice but to accept it, for your safety and for theirs.

The news of Mark’s death hit everyone hard. You saw your college mates mourn and host a vigil on the news and cried once again. They said that the murderer snuck into the hospital in scrubs and a face mask, but all security footage for that day had mysteriously been “lost.” They had no face on camera, and no one to give a description of who the assailant might be...other than you, of course.

You could never forgive yourself for what you did to him. How could you have been so naive?

Now, Mark was dead and his family and friends were experiencing immense pain. 

You silently cried yourself to sleep that day, praying to God for forgiveness.

Taeyong, on the other hand, wasn’t begging for forgiveness. No, Mark’s murder was nothing to him. He was going to take you away from him, and that couldn’t happen, so he got rid of him just like any other enemy that threatened his peace and tranquillity. Instead, Taeyong went about  threatening anyone and everyone in an effort to find you.

Taeyong was furious when Taeil tracked your phone only to find it still at the hospital. You had vanished out of his sight for the first time since he met you, and that was unacceptable.

He slowly started to feel himself go psychotic. He couldn’t focus on other tasks, jobs were incomplete as everything came to a standstill because of his preoccupation with finding you.

“She’ll be back, she has to come back.” Taeyong paces about his office.

“Don’t you think you’ve taken this a little too far?” Johnny sits in the leather chair across from Taeyong’s desk and purses his lips.

“No..no I don’t think I’ve taken it too far, Johnny, but you know what I do think? I think you and the rest of these guys are fucking lazy! You’re supposed to be the best of the best and you can’t find a fucking college girl? How far could she have gotten, she doesn’t even have a car!”

Taeyong slams his hand onto the desk.

Johnny sighs. “We’re doing the best we can, we’re looking for the spoiled brat 24/7. There’s only so many places we can check, wherever she is, whatever hole she’s in..we’ll find it. But I must ask, what if she doesn’t want to be found, Taeyong? If she’s gone through this much trouble, are you sure she loves you?”

“Shut up!” Taeyong throws his sands of time stature to the ground, leaving sand and broken glass everywhere.

Johnny remains unfazed in his seat, for Taeyong did have these tantrums every now and then.

Taeyong walks over and stares at the broken pieces before bending down to pick one up.

“What about her piece of shit father?” He asks, still staring at the three-edged glass in his hand.

“He knows nothing… we traced all his emails and text messages, but nothing. It seems she’s run away from her parents too. Maybe she’s just tired of this privileged life.” Johnny shrugs.

“I don’t believe his lying ass, and you shouldn’t either. Has he agreed to meet with me yet?”

“He won’t meet with you, Taeyong, he's pissed enough to know that you’ve gotten to his daughter. He doesn’t even care that we’ve slowed down our deliveries.”

“Hmmm I guess I’ll have to get nasty with him..” Taeyong’s dark eyes widen as he smirks.

Johnny raises his arms. “Taeyong, when’s the last time you slept? You look like a raccoon. I’ll call over our favorite girl, you know the flexible one. God, I love when she takes us both, that college girl of yours could never do the things she does.”

Taeyong steps towards Johnny, still gazing at the glass with a wild expression.

“Get a good fuck and sleep well after, what do you say?” Johnny lifts the corner of his mouth into a smile.

Taeyong leans down and into Johnny’s face. Johnny's brows furrowed as he leans backward and away from him.

But Taeyong holds the back of his head with one hand and presses the edge of the glass into his neck with the other. 

Johnny groans as it just barely pierced his skin. “Taeyong, what the f-?”

“I don’t want anyone but that “spoiled brat,” and if I don’t get her, I’ll kill all of you myself. I’ll start with you first..so the next time you get a coffee or bagel from Gordo’s, let someone else taste it first..it’d be a shame for it to have just one extra...and deadly ingredient.” Taeyong presses the glass in harder as Johnny hisses.

His eyes widen, Taeyongs grip on the back of his head tightening, his nails digging into his scalp.

“I love her and she loves me..but you wouldn’t know anything about love, would you, Johnny? If you did, you’d know that lovers have to fight sometimes. Not everything is all roses and fucking flowers. She wants me to fight for her, and that’s what I intend on doing. So stop opening your mouth and get moving, I don’t want my dick sucked tonight.”

“You’ve lost your mind.” Johnny lets out once Taeyong releases him.

“And that’s the bad part, Johnny, I haven’t lost it yet. I’m just getting started.”

Johnny huffs and heads for the door.

“Oh, and Johnny boy, send Taeil in.”

—————

[One Day Later]

Your parents eat their dinner after a long day of work combined with worry for your safety. Your dad tried to keep your mother calm and collected, but she struggled to swallow each bite.

“I-I just don’t understand..” she puts her fork down and holds her head in her hands.

“She’s fine, honey. We should just trust her and continue the search. The church has done a wonderful job with helping us look for her. But thank God we received a letter.” Your father continues to chew.

“It’s not enough, how do we even know she wrote that? And that Taeyong guy, why does he keep asking to speak with you about her? What does he know?”

Your father slams his fork down and looks at your mother. He takes her hand and places it onto the table while looking sternly into her eyes.

“Don’t..you ever call that name in this house. He’s a fool and he will never get close to our family.”

“He already has! Him and his men have stalked me for days! I don’t know what they plan to do to us, I’m scared.”

“Don’t worry about them, they’d be foolish to lay a hand on you.” Your father looks into your mother's eyes deeply.

“What have you done? Why are they after us?”

“I haven’t done anything except serve the good Lord.”

He looks onto the table.

She pulls her hand away. “Do you think I was born yesterday? I know all about your dealings with him..” she looks up at the gold walls and fancy paintings around the dining area.

“Do you think I believe all this came from the church? You must think I’m those idiots that you preach to, believing nonsense.” She scoffs.

Your father gasps. “How could you say that? The church..our religion, it isn’t nonsense! I thought you changed from that sinful girl I met so long ago, I thought you were better than this..”

“And I thought you were better than to get involved with a gang leader! But look at you! Desperate for more than we NEED! How is this a Christian life? Look at the example we set for our child, we’ve taught her this lavish lifestyle that we can’t even say we’ve earned honestly like good people, where is our humility?!”

“We’ve set an amazing example! Do you remember where you were before you met me, on the streets scouring for your next fix! Imagine raising your child while in that state, without me!”

She sits and gives him a harsh look before opening her mouth to respond. “You’re full of sh-“

But a loud, compilation of multiple sounds fills the house. Your parents cover their ears.

“What the hell is that?!” Your mom jumps up and looks around. It seems all of the televisions in the mansion have turned themselves on.

“What in God’s name?” As your father listens closely, he recognizes something from audio of whatever is being played on one of the televisions.

I want us to cum..together. I want you to get so full of my cum..Do you want me to fill you up?

He hears the man say.. then a high pitched moan follows.

Yes..sir.

No. This can’t be happening. It couldn’t be your sweet voice.

Your father jumps up and runs to the closest television screen, the one in the living room.

Your mother follows behind. “What is going on? Was there a power surge or something? Why are they all-“

She stops talking as she is stunned by what is being played on the screen at full volume. The noise is almost unbearable.

The video of you being taken from the back by Taeyong plays on the large screen. Your hair messy, mouth open as mewls and moans spew out, your naked body being pummeled into by the demon as he grips your waist and pulls you onto him. You look into the camera and at yourself before letting out a loud whimper.

Yes...sir, oh God, Taeyong..please I’m gonna..

Your father turns away and stares at the floor intently, trying to drown out your cries and the sounds of skin slapping on skin in the video.

“Oh God! Turn it off!!” Your mother yells.

Your father then looks around the room for the TV remote, finally finding it on the couch.

He firmly presses the power button, but nothing happens. He runs up to the TV and presses the power button on its base, but still nothing happens.

“No..this can’t be happening.” He mutters, his eyes widen.

A new video then starts to play, displaying you naked and kneeling on the ground below Taeyong. Your father recognizes his tattoos as he rubs his thumb along your round lips.

Stick your tongue out, little mouse.

Ah yes..just like that..

Taeyong groans as you lick his tip leaking with precum.

“Unplug the damn thing!”

Your mother yells again as she turns away and covers her ears.

Your father finally reaches behind the TV and tears the cord out of the socket.

Your parents breathe a sigh of relief as the video stops playing.

However, they would now have to unplug each and every TV in the house that blasted a sexual video of you.

“What is this? Is he doing this to blackmail us?” Your mother starts crying.

“I’m going to kill that bastard…”

“He’s ruined our daughter! Oh, God..how could we not see the signs?” She runs off to her bedroom with her ears still covered. The house is filled with the music of your moans and Taeyongs grunts. All the videos of you and him that he had taken played throughout.

Your father’s face is haunting, he looks dark, strange, his eyes shaking as he thinks of what to do next.

————

[Two Days Later]

Your mother enters the hair salon as she usually does on a Tuesday afternoon.

She greets the stylists and goes to the back room where her hair is to be washed before the cut.

After waiting for about 10 minutes, a stylist enters the room and places a black robe around her, tying it in the back.

“How are you today?” The male voice says smoothly.

“I’m alright.” Her eyes are still a bit red from crying, she was really worried for you, especially after seeing the videos that Taeyong had taken. She’s too preoccupied with her thoughts to look up at the man.

“Lean back for me. Close your eyes, just relax.”

The man takes her head and leans it against the wash bin as she moves to get comfortable.

“I can tell you’re going through a lot right now.”

“Yes...I am.” She nods slightly and closes her eyes.

The man hums then places a small amount of shampoo onto her hair before wetting it with the hose.

He massages her scalp with slow and tenuous movements, pressing his tips into her scalp while making circular motions.

His thumbs place pressure onto the back of her neck, carefully kneading into it and loosening a knot.

“That feels good...I don’t think I’ve had you before..” your mother lets out, she’s holding back an embarrassing moan, for his fingers just feel so incredibly good.

Her mouth falls open.

“Of course you’ve had me before..”

“I would definitely remember these hands.”

The man chuckles. “Oh? I hope your daughter remembers them.”

Her eyes open quickly. “What did you say?”

She tries to sit up in the chair, but the man grabs her by the hair and forces her back down.

“Relax, mom..it’s just me, Taeyong...I’m not gonna hurt you if you do what I ask.”

He continues to massage her scalp and hums a low tune. Your mother's eyes grow, she looks above her and sees the red haired man with crazy eyes. She reaches back to grab at his arms, scratching his skin as she squirms in her chair.

“Let me go! Let me go! Help! Someone help me!”

She yells for help, but the terrified stylists in the salon's main lobby sit in silence. Johnny has already locked the doors to the salon and holds two pistols in his hands, ready to aim at anyone that makes the slightest move.

“No one can help you, my love, only you can help yourself.” Taeyong smiles then grabs her arms and places them across her chest.

“I’m gonna ask you once..” he walks around the chair and bends down over her, gazing into her teary eyes.

“Where is she?”

“I could ask you the same question! What have you done to her?”

“Everything I did to her you’ve already seen on your TV. I know you’re hiding her from me. Where. Is. She?”

“Fuck you! You’ll never see her again! Even if I did know where she is, you’d have to walk over my dead body to get to her!” She spits out but Taeyong only laughs. He looked crazy, his red hair disheveled and eyes dark, his skin was extremely pale like he hadn’t gone outside for a while.

“Sweetheart, that’s no problem for me, but I’d rather not have to watch her mourn your death.”

Taeyong walks behind her and turns the hose on again, but this time he grabs a towel from the counter behind him.

He forces your mother’s head back, nearly breaking her neck in the process. She grunts and breathes through gritted teeth before grabbing at his arms again.

He throws the towel over her face and pours water onto it. Your mother starts to choke, she can’t breathe as water soaks through the towel, flooding her mouth and drowning her slowly. Her nostrils flare as they attempt to take in oxygen, but only take in water as well.

She flails about in the chair, her legs stomping and her nails leaving deep scratch marks into Taeyongs skin.

Taeyong hisses but laughs as she struggles to breathe.

“You’re a tough one. But all you have to do is tell me where she is..”

A muffled scream escapes.

“What was that?” He turns the hose off and lifts up the part of the towel covering her mouth.

She takes in a deep breath and coughs up water.

“Please! Please stop! I don’t know where she is!”

Taeyong replaces the towel and begins to waterboard her again.

“Hmmmm do you expect me to believe that?” Taeyong growls out. He’s growing impatient.

Another muffled sound escaped her after a few seconds.

Taeyong lifts the towel. “Ready to talk now?”

“Yes! Yes..” she chokes.

“I think her father knows..where she is, he told me that a member of the church saw her..please you can’t hurt her! She’s not a piece of shit like my husband is. She’s kind and a good person, please I beg you to not take out your frustrations on her.” She sobs.

Taeyong lifts the towel off completely.

“I won’t hurt her..I love her. I’m just a little..upset is all.” Taeyong speaks softly. 

“And your husband..well he’s been ignoring me..that doesn’t make me happy..”

She stares and shakes like a cold, wet dog.

“Call your husband..” he hands her phone back to her.

She hesitantly dials him up. Her mind is filled with regrets for giving in, how could she put your life at risk? How could she tell the truth about your father getting info from a man that saw you in the city on the east side? The man said he had seen you come off of the bus and offered you a coat, but you quickly refused and walked away. That’s when he saw you meet up with a guy at a restaurant not too far away.

Your father had already figured out who you were with after he visited the area himself. He’d seen Jaehyun close the restaurant, he followed him home and the next day he followed him to the library on campus.

He had an insider watch closely over Jaehyun’s shoulder as he signed into your email account.

The truth was known to him, but he wouldn’t tell anyone or seek you out himself. He thought it’d be best if it remained a mystery. Even to his own wife.

“Hello?” Her husband answers.

She sniffles. “He’s here...you have to tell him where she is..or he’ll kill me!”

“No, oh God, no...where are you?!” He asks but before she can respond, Taeyong grabs the phone away from her and presses the ‘FaceTime’ button.

Once he answers, Taeyong smiles widely and places the phone in front of your mother. He rests his chin on her shoulder as she cries.

“Hey there, pastor, long time no see.”

“Taeyong..you maniacal asshole, leave my wife out of this!”

“But why? You’ve been ignoring me so I decided to spend some time with her. I must say she’s a lot nicer than you. She reminds me of your daughter too..”

He looks at the side of her face before kissing her cheek softly. “I miss her so much.”

“She told me that a little birdy told you where y/n is..let’s not waste anymore time. Tell me now!”

“I can’t do that, I can’t put her at risk!”

“Are you sure you want to keep saying no to me?” Taeyong grabs a pair of trimming scissors behind him and holds it to her neck, pressing the tip in to show obvious indentation.

Your mother cries out loudly. “Just do it!”

He shakes his head and bites his lip. “I’m sorry, honey, but I can’t give our daughter to him.”

His wife’s eyes widened. “You-you can’t be serious..you’re gonna let him kill me?”

He starts to tear up. “To protect our daughter...I have to.”

Taeyong chuckles. “Well, would you look at that..the crazy bastard doesn’t care about you.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” The pastor shakes his head as it lowers.

“But I know what he does care about..money..”

Taeyong lifts the scissors out of your mother’s neck and places it onto the counter.

“See..I knew he wouldn’t care if I threatened your life, mom..I knew he wouldn’t care if I posted those videos of me fucking his daughter all over that grand house of his..but I do know he’d care if he loses his church..”

Taeyong takes his chin in his hand.

“What would happen if during one of your wonderful sermons..I put those videos of me and your daughter on the big screens.. Ah yes that online streaming service you have that reaches millions..oh, how disastrous would that be? All those families tuning in to porn unknowingly..you’d be ruined, wouldn’t you pastor?”

“How could your daughter be with me, a gang leader?”

Your father looks back at the screen furrowing his eyebrows and tilting his head. “These threats won’t work, you wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, but let’s not stop there, pastor. Imagine what chaos would ensue if those emails between us just so happened to leak...a pastor..conducting the drug business in his own town?”

“Taeyong..”

“Just tell him where she is, God damn it! He’ll ruin us!” Your mother yells.

“Everything would be stripped away from you..it starts with the church, then harassment from the media as they call you a hypocrite…I’ve wanted to let the people know who you truly are for the longest time..I’ve spared you, but now, I have nothing to lose. I’ll fuck up your life, pastor.”

Taeyong grins an evil smile that the pastor just wants to smack from his face.

The pastor closes his eyes and sighs. He just couldn’t let the world know the true criminal he was and furthermore, he knew Taeyong would eventually catch up to you. What was the point of holding back?

Then, he thought of a plan, something that would catch Taeyong off guard. Taeyong’s weakness was that he believed he always had the upper hand in every situation, he’d never suspect what the pastor was about to do to him.

“Fine..but I won’t tell you where she is, I’ll bring her to you..tomorrow, meet me at the corner of 5th and Herst, in the alleyway. I’ll have her there for you.”

Taeyong smiles. “Perfect. Until then, your wife and I will keep each other company, maybe we’ll watch some movies and enjoy popcorn or something.”

“Taeyong, no, I need her.”

Taeyong chuckles. “Are you sure about that? Just a few minutes ago you didn’t care that I had a pair of scissors in her neck..”

“Yes but..”

“End of discussion,father, I’ll see you at 9 tomorrow night. And don’t even think about bailing on me, because for each minute you’re late, I’ll remove a finger or toe from your beautiful wife.” Taeyong ends the FaceTime call.

————

[The Next Day 9:30 PM]

Somehow, you were able to burn the onions.

You turned away for just a split second, then turned back to see your once white onions become black.

“Damn it.”

That’s when you hear the door open. You were cooking dinner for you and Jaehyun. It was a late dinner, yes, but Jaehyun had to close the restaurant. 

“What’s this?”

Jaehyun laughed as he entered the kitchen and saw you tossing black onions into the sink.

“Uhhh..I’m cooking..well trying to cook spaghetti and meatballs..it’s not as easy as Gordon Ramsey makes it seem.”

You pout.

“Oh, you didn’t have to..” Jaehyun places his bag down and steps beside you in the kitchen.

“I know..but it’s the least I can do, you've welcomed me into your place and kept me safe, and for that, I’m forever thankful.”

“It’s nothing, really, I’m just helping you get away from what sounds like a crazy man.”

Jaehyun places his hand on top of yours.

You turn and look up into his gorgeous brown eyes.

He steps closer, his steamy breath tingling your forehead. You look at his lips and lick your own, you always had a small crush on him and now he was right in front of you, making your heart shiver and your mind cloudy.

He leans forward while still looking into your eyes 

“The pasta is sticking to the bottom of the pan.” He whispers, almost seductively.

Your eyes widen as you step back and turn to the pot with the pasta.

“Oh! You’re right, oh no!”

Jaehyun laughs out.

“Hey!” You smile, feeling your face become hot from embarrassment.

“You’re cute.” Jaehyun takes his bag out of the kitchen and goes to his room.

“Thanks but I just wish I could cook!” You yell out to him.

He changes into a white t-shirt and pajama pants and walks back into the kitchen after a few minutes.

He watches from the entry way as you pour olive oil,  a bit too much olive oil, onto the pasta. He smiles to himself.

“Being cute is enough, I like having you here.”

“Really?” You raise your eyebrows, then look back at him with an innocent expression.

“Yeah..” he nods and steps close to you once again.

“I-Jaehyun..I’ve always..” your words stumble out of your mouth as his close proximity makes you hot again.

He towers over you, licking his lips and crossing his arms. “Always what?”

You shake your head. You thought of Taeyong and how a part of you still loved him. Jaehyun was nice to you, you couldn’t ruin the friendship you had.

“N-Never mind.” You look away.

Jaehyun tilts your head back to his while holding your chin.

“Say it...please.”

You search his eyes, you’re enamored by him, completely taken aback by his touch and warmth.

You begged for God to forgive you for having sinful thoughts when you looked at him, you wanted to lay kisses onto his collarbones and run your fingers through his hair. You wanted him to kiss your lips for a long time as he wraps your legs around his waist and touches you..everywhere.

He leaned down, watching your lips part.

You were so close..but then..his phone rang.

He closed his eyes and sighed before stepping back. “I’m sorry, I’ll be right back, I think it’s my lab partner.”

You nod then turn back to your bubbling spaghetti sauce.

“I don't know what you’re talking about, I don’t know where she is!” You hear Jaehyun’s voice raise from his bedroom.

Your brows furrow. Who found his phone number? Who found him and possible found you? You hadn’t left his apartment since getting there.

You walk over to him and stand in the doorway, watching as Jaehyun angrily addresses the person on the phone.

“You’ve got the wrong number!” He hangs up and turns to you.

“Who was that?” You ask quietly, as if the person on the phone can still hear you.

“Someone that claims to be your father..”

His phone rang again. 

Your eyes widened as you stared at his phone screen. “Ask him..what time was I born.”

If it’s him, you needed to talk to him, you needed to tell him that you’re okay.

Only you, your father and your mother knew the time you were born.

3:33 A.M

Your father always praised it as a holy time. “You’re an angel” he’d always say.

Jaehyun answered the stranger and asked the questions like you asked him to. “If you’re her father, what time was she born?”

He put the phone on mute then turned to you.

“he said 3:33 AM..”

Your eyes grew as you reached for his phone. “It’s him!”

You unmute it. “Dad?”

“Yes, dear, oh my God, thank God you're okay.” You can hear him start to sob.

“Dad, it’s okay, I’m okay.” 

“I knew my prayers would not be in vain..” he cries.

“I need you to come back, sweetheart. We’ve got him, and we are gonna put him away for good, but we need your help.”

“Dad..what are you talking about?”

You look up at Jaehyun, his arms crossed and his brows knitted.

“That crazy man! He’s been after you since you ran away, but I got him! I tricked him into meeting up with me. He thought I would turn you in to him, but instead I had the cops ambush him. They arrested him, he’s being brought to the station right now, thank God.”

Your head begins to spin, your eyes start to blur as water fills them. “W-what do you mean ‘they arrested him?’”

How did they find out that Taeyong was the one to kill Mark? And why did you feel a sudden sense of despair now that he was arrested? He deserved it, right?

“Taeyong kidnapped and assaulted you, that’s what I told the cops, y/n. I told them that you ran away to get away from him. You have to come in as soon as possible to give a statement.”

“No..n-no, dad I can't do that..it isn’t true”

Silence falls over the phone. “What do you mean?”

You start to sob as you thought of Taeyong and all of your moments with him.

“I-I love him. I can’t deny it, my heart hurts just knowing he might be put away.”

Even after all he did, you still felt something for him.

“Are you stupid? This man is a monster! I saw the things he did to you in those videos!” Your father spits out into the phone.

“Yes! And I let him do those things, I enjoyed it! I can't lie to you or to the police!”

“You leave me no choice! If you don’t come back, I’ll come and get you myself! And I’ll have Jaehyun arrested for kidnapping too!”

You gasp. “Dad..you can’t do that..” sniffling, you look up at Jaehyun.

“He has nothing to do with this.”

“Then come home and make a statement! This is the only way out..for BOTH of us, we have to take him down!” Your father yells over the phone loud enough for Jaehyun to hear.

You hang up the phone and hand it back to Jaehyun.

He shakes his head slowly as he takes it. “Y/n...you don’t have to go back.”

You wipe your eyes. “I’m sorry, Jaehyun, I’m so sorry for all of this. I have to go back and make things right or...you’ll end up like….” Mark. You didn’t finish your sentence because Jaehyun still didn’t know that you knew who killed Mark.

“End up like who? You know what, it doesn’t matter.. Y/n, just stay with me, you’ll be okay..” the sorrowful look in his eyes eats away at your heart.

He reaches out for your hand, but you pull it away.

“Jaehyun.. I’ll be okay, I’ll see you on campus.”

Jaehyun sighs and looks away.

“I’ll need a hoodie.” 

You grabbed one of Jaehyun’s hoodies and headed out of his apartment and to the closest bus station. Jaehyun walked you to it, and even waited for the next bus to arrive before he left.

As it approached, he felt his heart beat heavily in his chest. He was worried for you, but donned a small smile when you turned back to him to say bye.

You took his face in your hands and placed a light kiss on his cheek. He frowned as you pulled back and looked into his eyes.

“Goodnight, Jaehyun..I’ll see you soon.”

While on the bus, you thought of everything that happened. How worried and upset Taeyong must be about you running away. But he killed Mark, he killed an innocent person and your heart aches for your loss.

So why did you worry about Taeyong’s current state in jail?

Once at the bus stop, your mother gave you a big hug and held your face in her hands. “I’m so sorry to make you do this, honey, but I’m so happy you’re back home.”

You smiled softly, attempting to hide your worry as you looked into your mother’s drained face. She looked like she hadn’t rested or eaten well.

“I’m happy I’m home too.” 

Your father nodded and hugged you too, but didn’t say anything, even during your ride to the police station.

When you entered the station, an officer took you into a room where they would ask you important questions.

“Please let me go in with her, she’s probably traumatized!” Your father begged as they took you away.

“Sir..we can’t let anyone else in, she isn’t a minor, so there’s no reason for her to be accompanied by a parent. We will provide her with whatever she asks for and give her as much time as she needs to tell us what happened.” The detective spoke to your parents as they waited in the lobby.

Your heart ran wild, your hands shook and grew sweaty as you stood only in what seemed to be a slowly collapsing box. You felt like you couldn’t breathe as the clicking sound of the door shutting behind you echoed in the room.

It was just you and the detective now.

“I’m going to turn on the light in the other room beside us..Once it is on, you will be able to see the room through this one-way mirror. I need you to identify the man in front of us..but do not worry, we can see him, but he can’t see or hear us. I ask that you answer honestly, but do take your time. We need as much info as possible. Understood?”

You nodded and swallowed hard. “Y-yes.”

She flicks the light switch and your heart drops almost immediately.

Taeyong sits in the center of the room, his wrists bound together with handcuffs. He looks tired, pale, like he hadn’t slept since you left.

The bags under his eyes donned a dark, almost black shade, and made him look even more dangerous than he did before.

Your mouth fell open. He looked like a sad puppy for the first time, he didn’t look like someone that could possibly kill an innocent person. He didn’t look like a gang leader at all, no, he looked like an innocent boy.

You wanted to run to him, hug him and apologize for leaving him. You wanted to see him happy again.

You start to twiddle your thumbs. “I-I can’t do this.”

You turn to the detective, but she places her hand on top of yours and nods slowly. “Yes..you can. Don’t worry, survivors like you often have this exact moment of uncertainty. But it is important that you take your time. Let’s start with a basic question. Do you recognize this man?”

“Y-yes.”

“What is his name?”

“Taeyong..his name is Taeyong.” You slowly start to speak more.

“How long have you known the suspect?”

“Suspect..” you whisper. “I’ve known him since July of this year..but…”

“What is it?” She turns to you, still holding the voice recording device in her hand.

“Why..why is he a suspect? What did he do?” You sounded ridiculous to the woman, but she didn’t notice that your eyes had not moved from watching Taeyong. You were falling for him over and over again silently. If it weren’t for the glass in between the two of you, you would’ve taken him into your arms and kissed him like there was no tomorrow, for you had missed him as well.

Taeyong could sense your presence even though he couldn’t see you. He was pissed that he had been set up by your father, a part of him knew that his guys could get him out in time, but he still hated the fact that he was made to look like a fool.

He knew he would kill your father as soon as he could instruct an assassin to do so, but that still wouldn’t solve his ache for you. He was overjoyed when your father finally agreed to bring you to him, he even made reservations at the finest restaurant in town to celebrate your reunion. He would kiss your lips all night long and lay beside you until the sun came out. He would never let you out of his sight again. But sadly, tonight nothing went as planned.

And to hear his father accuse him of engaging in non consensual activities made him furious.

“Dear...you’re the one that claims he assaulted you..is this not correct?”

So he wasn’t being arrested and charged with Mark’s murder, they had nothing on him for that. He was being falsely accused of a crime against you.

Taeyong stands up and walks over to the mirror. His hands still in his cuffs as he places them flat against the mirror. He searches for your face, knowing he won’t be able to see it even if he tries harder, but hoping that you’ll see his face filled with regret and pain.

“Y/n…” he calls out to you softly.

You can’t hear him, but you can see your name fall from his sweet lips.

You place your hands onto the glass to match his, tears falling from your eyes.

How can you accuse your love of a false crime? Especially when he looked so weakened, so low and desperate?

“No..no he didn’t kidnap or rape me, it was all consensual…” you state firmly, your eyes still locked with Taeyongs.

“Are you saying that this man, Taeyong, has never touched you without your consent? It’s okay you can be honest with me, he can’t see you.”

You shake your head. “I allowed him to love me..each and every time...because I love him..we love each other.”

“Ma’am, do you wish to press charges against Taeyong?”

“No, no I don’t, I want to be with him.”

The detective sighs and clicks the stop button on her recorder.

“Okay, if that’s the case, then we will have to set him free.”

You step out into the lobby as your parents stand up to greet you. You wipe tears away. “I couldn’t do it..I couldn’t lie.”

Your father’s face falls. “W-what are you saying?”

“She has decided to not press charges, you guys are all set to leave, the suspect is a free man, so I’d suggest leaving before he does.”

“You can’t be serious! She’s being manipulated by him! That’s emotional abuse!” Your father yells.

“Sir..”

“Please, you have to understand, our daughter is not like this. He’s turned her into someone else..he’s violently seducing her.” Your mother begs.

“I understand, but there is nothing we can do. If she says she does not want to press charges, then we are only wasting our time here. Our station could be in deep trouble if we keep the suspect any longer just for your daughter to change her mind.”

Your mother looks away.

“Pastor..” the detective turns to your father, “please, come with me.”

You and your mother step aside while the two talk. 

“You of all people know how powerful Taeyong is..how could you get us into this mess?! He has information on all of us and we arrested him before he could use it against us, but now he’s free and aware of our plan! You were supposed to have her plead a case so strong, it would put him away for life! Do you know how much danger you’ve put me and the other sergeants in? This business that he runs affects ALL of us.”

The detective speaks angrily to your father.

The police were just as involved in Taeyongs drug movements as he was. They’d take a profit from the business made in the city, they were the ones that planted it on criminals that needed to be put away.. they also provided it to CEOs and big white collar men so that they wouldn’t be arrested for possession.

But the police had been upset for quite some time at how Taeyong controlled everything, they thought it should be one of their own, not some street kid that had killers everywhere, ready to strike.

“There’s no telling what he’ll do now.” The detective cursed.

“We still have the videos..” your father looked to the floor.

“Videos? What videos? The ones of them having sex like normal adults? Yeah, those are gone anyway, you know that hacker of his works fast.” The detective rolls her eyes.

“I’m sorry..but don’t worry, we still have another chance..”

The pastor had devised a backup plan in case this one fell through. He’d send you out of the country to another school and under a different identity. Then he’d tell everyone that you had been murdered by Taeyong, and would conjure up evidence against him.

You were in the car, heading back home when your parents started to argue.

“This is ridiculous!” Your dad yelled.

“Don’t blame this on her! You’re the one that got involved with this guy!”

“She has the power to end all of this!”

He retorted.

You sat in the backseat and looked out the window, thinking of Taeyong and whether or not you should’ve lied.

“But that’s alright, we’ll send her away to that one catholic school in Italy! She’ll be able to repent and beg for God’s forgiveness!”

Your father let out.

“What?”

You turned to him.

“You heard me..you’re going away, you’ll be finishing your studies elsewhere so you can be away from this monster and return back to Christianity. Don’t think you’re off the hook after what we saw in those videos. The sins you committed..I can only pray for mercy.”

“No! You can’t do that!” Your voice rose.

Your mother turned to you. “Your father is being a bit dramatic right now, but it’s true. It’s for your own safety.”

“Mom..don’t send me away..” you panted.

She reached out and laid her hand on your thighs. “Sweetheart, it will be okay, we will visit you whenever we can, and you’ll get to travel! It will be so exciting to leave this town behind.” She gave a small smile before turning back around. 

Your father calms down slowly. “Y/n..” he takes a deep breath. “I don’t want to be so harsh on you, but..”

“What..who is that?” Your mother squints and looks out onto the front yard of your house. 

Multiple men stand along the front of your house, dressed in black and those same glowing masks that you could never forget. They were haunting enough, but as they stood still with large weapons and motorcycles beside them, you felt a chill run down your spine.

“No…” your father says with wide eyes.

“It’s him.”

The car slowly comes to hault.

Your dad locks the doors. 

“Stay inside.”

“What are we gonna do now? The cops aren’t gonna come, are they?” Your mother rubs her temple.

When you look through the front glass you see him at the center, leaning onto his motorcycle.

“How the hell did they get through the front gate?”

“Don’t be an idiot, you know they have their ways.” Your mother turns to him.

But all you can do is watch Taeyong. The way he sits coolly on the bike, leaning his head back as he runs his fingers through his crimson hair.

He removes his mask and places it beside him on the seat.

He’s alluring, beautiful. The night sky only adds to his sexy and mysterious aura. 

“I want to go to him.” You whisper. “He’s here for me.”

“Are you insane?” Your dad turns to you.

“No, but you’ll send me off to another country whether or not I want to..I can’t do that.”

“Y/n..sweetie,no..” your mother starts but you quickly unlock the door and jump out of the car, running out of it and to Taeyong without care or worry.

You have no thoughts, just desire. You want to be beside him, you want to feel him again.

You hug him tightly.

“Little mouse..” he whispers into your ear while looking over your shoulder and onto the dumbstruck face of your father in the driver's seat.

He hugs you tightly and rubs your back. 

“Taeyong..I’m sorry, I was scared.”

“I know..but I’ll never hurt you, you know that.” He leans back and grips your throat while looking into your eyes. He gives you a wicked smile as he rubs his thumb along your bottom lip.

He then leans down and kisses you hard, forcing his tongue into your mouth.

Your teeth clink against each other as your heads turn.

You pull yourself closer to him, not caring about your parents or anyone else watching the two of you. You feel amazing, your craving is finally satisfied as his tongue licks your lips.

He pulls away and looks into your eyes. “We have a lot to talk about don’t we..”

Your father jumps out of the car and walks up to the two of you.

“This is enough! Stop terrorizing us! Give us our little girl!” He cries out.

Taeyong’s eyes flicker up to him as every one of his guys points their gun at your father in unison, stopping him in his tracks.

“You’ve got some nerve, pastor…” his mouth lifts into a smile.

“But I’ll make a deal with you.. I won’t tell anyone or the media about tonight or your involvement in drug crimes..”

Your mouth falls open, what did Taeyong mean?

“Just as long as you leave us alone AND pay all of us double the amount for each delivery.”

Your father stumbles over his words, his eyes racing from the men that point guns at him then to your face.

“Please..anyone, anyone but her.” He begs.

Taeyong chuckles. “No..no, I want her. She’s not just “anyone.”

He looks down into your eyes.

Your father sighs and accepts defeat, as he sees how enchanted you are by him. There is no going back, you've been completely corrupted by him.

“Fine. But please don’t hurt her.” He steps back.

“Goodnight, pastor..” Taeyong waves and smiles wickedly.

You jump onto Taeyong’s bike and head off to his apartment.

————

Once in his place, Taeyong takes you to his living room.

He instructs you to stand in the center while he takes his leather jacket off and plops down onto the couch.

“Taeyong..I’m sorry.”

You play with your fingers behind your back and bite your lips. He looked amazing in his black button up and black jeans. Three buttons were open to reveal his toned chest.

“I know you are...but that’s not enough..where were you?” He tilts his head and spreads his arms out along the top of the couch.

“I..I was with a family member on the east side. Please Taeyong, I was scared I didn’t know what to do! Please forgive me.”

“What do you do in church when you beg for forgiveness, little mouse?”

“I...pray, I get on my knees and pray.” You nod.

“Then what should you be doing right now?”

You instantly fell to your knees on the hard, cold floor. You whimper at the harsh pain you felt. 

You put your hands together. “Please..please don’t hurt anymore people.”

Taeyong’s cat eyes lock with yours as your heart races. “Little mouse...I was in so much pain when you left me. I’m upset so I need you to answer me honestly, where. were. You?”

You begin to tremble. “Taeyong, I’m here now, isn’t that enough? My aunt decided to help me deal with the loss of M-“

Taeyong’s eyes widened. “Mark? I got rid of him for you! For us! What is there to mourn?”

“Taeyong, he was my friend, nothing more, I need you to trust me if we are going to make this work.”

You licked your lips as you spoke through furrowed brows.

“I trust you..do you trust me to protect us? To protect what we have?” Taeyong leans forward.

You nod quickly. “Yes.”

He stares into your eyes for a moment then leans back into the chair. “Prove it, crawl to me.”

Your mouth opens to protest but the glint of danger in Taeyong’s eyes stops you. You just need to do what he says in order to get what you want. The aching in between your legs had no plan to go away until you were satisfied by him.

You crawled over slowly then kneeled once you got to his bent legs.

You sat up straight, the heels of your foot under your bum, and looked up at him through your lashes.

He was so handsome, you wanted to climb up onto his lap and make love to him.

He waved a finger. “Take your sweatshirt off..”

Taeyong had noticed that you wore a men’s hoodie, and he wasn’t too happy about it, but he ignored his suspicions.

“Who does this belong to?” He took it from you as you lifted it over your head, your breasts falling victim to the crisp air in the apartment.

“It’s my..cousin’s!” You answered quickly.

Taeyong threw it to the side and looked back at you. “I hate when you lie to me, sweetheart.”

“I’m not lying! I promise!”

Taeyong keeps eye contact with you as he reaches into his waistband and pulls out his gun.

He takes the safety off and places it right in front of you.

You shy away from the intimidating weapon and whimper.

“Taeyong!”

“If you’re telling the truth, lick it like it’s me, little mouse.”

You’re hesitant but raise your head back up. You stick your tongue out to lick the underside of the gun first, your eyes brimming with tears.

“Don’t cry, love, I won’t hurt you..even though I could pull this trigger right now and end it all..” 

Taeyong watches your eyes widen.

“I could end the pain that I’ve experienced because you threw me away.”

You shake your head. “I didn’t throw you away, I love you!”

“Keep going..don't stop until I tell you to, or I’ll be even more upset. What did you say we needed to make this work? Hmmm trust..that was the word. So trust me..”

Taeyong sighed

You continue to lick it, the cold metal leaving a bitter taste on your tongue.

“Use those pretty lips.” Taeyong feels himself harden in his pants as he watches you below him blow the gun like it’s him.

You flatten your tongue along the round tip of the barrel then sink down onto it completely. Your cheeks hollowing as you imagine that it is Taeyong’s tempting member in your mouth.

“Fuck..you’re beautiful..” Taeyong pushes the gun in and out of your mouth, watching as your spit coats the metal.

Your eyes are locked with his as he begins to palm himself through his jeans. He pushes the gun in deeper and faster  to hit the back of your throat. You gag as tears run down your cheeks.

He can’t take it anymore. He removes the gun from your mouth and places it down onto the couch behind him.

He quickly zips his pants down, allowing his cock to spring free. You lick your lips and replace the gun with his cock, enjoying the salty taste of his precum and moaning onto him. You move your head up and down rapidly, using your tongue and the plush inside of your hollowing cheeks to bring him to the edge. He groans and throws his head back.

He holds the back of your head and bucks his hips into you. You gag, his rough movements making your throat feel raw. Your jaw becomes locked. But he goes even faster then holds you down against him as he cums in your mouth. The feeling of him finally using you to orgasm is beyond satisfactory. Your underwear is soaked.

Taeyong pants and leans back into the couch. “Tuck it back in for me, little mouse.”

Taeyong flinches at the feeling of your cold, soft fingers on his limp cock.

You zip his pants up and wait for more instructions.

Through low eyes he motions for you to go to him. You stand up straight and wipe your mouth and cheeks.

“Take off your pants, sweetheart.”

You immediately draw your pants and underwear down in one quick sweep, your heart beats fast. You want to feel him so badly.

Taeyong bites his lips while looking into your completely naked body. “You’re gorgeous and you’re all mine..”

He holds your waist and brings you down onto his lap.

“Do you want to ride me like a good girl?” Taeyong’s husky voice enters your ear, his fingers dip in between your thighs, tapping against your dripping folds.

You hiss and breathe heavily.

“Yes..” 

“Yes, what?” Taeyong holds your neck and looks into your eyes.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl..” he pats his thigh.

You give a puzzled expression. “I-“

“It’s easy, just move like you did on the stool..” Taeyong smirks.

“Okay.” You nod and place your hands on his shoulders.

He grips your waist again and presses you firmly onto his thigh, pushing your body forward and backward while looking into your eyes.

You let out a whimper as the rough fabric presses onto your flower.

Your soaking heat coats his jeans. You move faster and faster. Taeyong watches your face twist as you experience a strange mix of pain and pleasure.

He presses his tongue flat against your nipple. You grip his shoulder harder and moan out his name.

He circles his tongue around the swollen bud then pulls away.

“How do you feel, little mouse?” He flexes his thigh under your open legs, making you yelp and fall forward at the unexpected friction against your aching pussy.

“It feels..so good, sir.” You struggle to get out, your hips rocking back and forth. You find that one spot that makes you weak and continue to ride against it. Your clit feels incredibly stimulated by the rough material. You feel raw, but sexy under Taeyong’s gaze.

“Sir..I’m going to..” you gasp.

Taeyong licks the other nipple while his hand massages your breast, pumping it while pressing his fingertips into the soft skin.

Your body shakes onto him, you throw your head back and moan loudly as you come undone on his thigh.

The combination of his swift tongue on your nipple and his clenching thighs on you sent you overboard. You saw stars.

Taeyong smirked then grabbed your ass to force you to keep moving on his thighs. You trembled and cried out as overstimulation set in.

“I’ve missed you, little mouse, I’ve missed the way you taste.” He whispers against your chest then lifts you up and places you onto the couch beside him.

You’re on your back still recovering from your orgasm when he crawls over you slowly. He holds your ankles kissing along your right leg as he slowly places it over the couch. He then lays down and faces your leaking and exposed pussy.

“Mmm so pretty.” His warm breath makes you flinch.

He picks up his gun and teases your entrance with it, sliding the metal in between your folds as you cry out.

“Taeyong!”

You try to pull yourself up on the couch, but he pulls you down by the waist. Your knees clink together.

He presses the gun into you harder, rubbing it up and down, just barely touching your clit. He spreads your legs open again, his fingers digging into your thigh.

He bites his lips as he uses the round tip to part your folds and tease your entrance, swirling around the juices that escaped earlier.

“Fuck..I wanna taste you..”

He licks the gun clean of your juices as he watches you below him with dark eyes, you lick your lips and moan.

“Ahhh you’re so needy, little mouse. Should I fuck you with my gun or my mouth next?”

He rubs your clit with the gun as he bites his lips and waits for your answer.

“Keep going, sir. I like it.”

Taeyong leans back down and kisses your clit. “Why not both?”

He places one finger into your throbbing pussy slowly circling it around. You whimper and arch your back as it feels good to have something finally inside you. He then places another finger inside to stretch you out. He slides them in and out easily while using his thumb to press onto your clit. His fingertips tap onto your g spot teasingly.

“Oh my god!” Your arch your back even more then massage your breasts. The sight of you below him like this makes him weak. Your skin sweaty and hair disheveled, your lips swollen and red from you biting them. You’ve been corrupted by him yet again.

“That’s it, sweetheart.” He removes his fingers and replaces them with his gun, carefully sliding it in and out as you adjust to the cold metal not inside you.

“Fuck.” Taeyong curses. Something about your pussy welcoming his gun makes him dizzy. The danger of it all is unbelievably hot to him.

“How does it feel?”

“It feels..strange, but good, sir, please keep going.” You prop yourself up on your elbows and  look down at the black object sliding easily into you. You let out a moan.

“So good, s-sir.” 

Taeyong pushes your legs further apart .

 You begin to ride it yourself, your eyes floating from the wet gun and to Taeyong’s veiny hands and muscular arms decorated by tattoos. His red hair is parted to the side but a strand fell into his forehead during all the action.

His lips are red and plump, just begging to be kissed by you.

Your velvety walls begin to clench as you move up and down onto the object faster. Taeyong watches your fucked out expression while you chase your high. Your breasts bounce fervently as you move your body faster. Endless whimpers leave your lips.

“Are you going to cum?” Taeyong leans back down over your opening and lifts up the skin above your clit.

“Yes—sir!”

He flattens his tongue against your clit then circles the tip of it around it.

He pushes his tongue in firmly, licking upwards at unpredictable paces ll while never letting your eyes contact go.

You throw your head back as your eyes roll in the back of your head. 

“I’m…Taeyong!” your body shakes, the knot in your stomach finally being relieved, you can’t finish your sentence. Taeyong’s tongue drives you crazy, you can’t think straight. Your body felt like it had been transported to another real mmt as his tongue still massages your clit.

You fall back into the couch, your movements stopping.

Taeyong takes his gun out and licks up your cum while closing his eyes and savoring the taste.

He places the gun beside him then leans down to kiss you so you can taste yourself.

“I love you...but I’ll just have to punish you for running away.” He kisses your forehead as your eyes open.

That itch for Taeyong had been satisfied, but now you had to deal with the consequences of your actions.

“I have something to show you.” He whispers while taking a strand of hair out of your face.

He takes you to the guest room where he has placed a large, wooden cross onto the wall.

At the ends are straps for one's arms and legs, your eyes grow.

“Taeyong…”

He takes your hand and brings you closer to the large cross while smiling. He turns to face you.

“Did you think I’d let you off this easy? Tsk tsk” Taeyong smirks. He quickly lifts you up and places your legs around his waist. He then lifts your arms up one by one and attaches them to the cross. He backs away and allows your naked body to dangle.

“Taeyong..please! I said I was sorry!”

“And this will prove to me that you truly are…I had trouble sleeping because I was so worried about you...now, I must return the favor.” He says as he brings both feet together and buckles your ankles to the cross as well.

He steps back and marvels at the beautiful sight of you on the cross.

He smiles. “Y/n...you’re my savior, you’re all that I need, you’re my religion, and I would do anything for you.”

“Taeyong..please, my arms hurt.” You cry out.

“Shhh don’t beg, my love.”

He turns and grabs the remote for the TV right across from you.

He presses the “on” button and you immediately see a video of Taeyong taking you from behind. 

“I’ve made a special movie for you..it will play our most special moments over and over tonight. This will ensure that you will never forget what it’s like to be with me again.”

“Taeyong, I never forgot about you..” you say softly in a final attempt to be let down.

“Then why did you stay away for so long?” Taeyong growls out, his eyes are wild, like he is holding back a deep anger.

Your mouth falls open into silence.

“My love..I hope you can appreciate this gift.” Taeyong then exits the room, leaving you alone with the bright and loud TV playing compilation videos of you and Taeyong having sex, along with disturbing videos of murders being carried out by his gang.

You cry silently and close your eyes tightly, but you can’t drown out the sound. Your arms and legs hurt from being strained for so long, you’re not sure how much more you can take after just an hour.

“Taeyong!” You call out but there’s no answer.

You stay suspended on the cross and cry throughout the entire night.

You struggled against the restraints from time to time, until you couldn’t even feel your arms. You closed your eyes tightly and looked up, down, to the side..anywhere but forward where the TV was. And somehow, you were able to close your eyes and fall asleep to the sound of your moans and Taeyongs deep voice in the video. But soon you were woken once again by a violent and disturbing video of torture or murder.

The next morning, Taeyong came into the room and untied you. He shut the TV off and carried your strained and numb body to the shower.

“Taeyong..” you whispered softly, your tired eyes opening slowly as you drifted in and out of consciousness.

“Yes, little mouse, I’m here..” He kissed your cheek, then trailed his soft, warm lips down your jaw and neck.

He helped you shower then took you to his bed.

He then covered your body with a blanket and sat on the edge of the bed beside you. He bed smelled like a field of flowers, the plush and bouncy pillow below your head felt especially heavenly.

“Did you do all those things to those people?” You mutter out with your eyes closed.

“Yes..they were bad people, they deserved their punishment, just like you deserved yours..”

Your eyes open wide.

“But lucky for you, you’ve begged for forgiveness and gained it from me.”

Taeyong gave you a small smile. “You should rest now.”

He was about to leave but you called out to him.

“Taeyong...do you trust me?”

The last thing you wanted was for Taeyong to do some digging to find out who you really spent time with during those two weeks. If he found out you were lying and found out about Jaehyun, that would be the last straw. He’d lose it. He would kill the both of you, and maybe your parents too.

You wanted reassurance that he would let it go once and for all, that you could move on and be like you were before.

Taeyong looked back at you and gave a questioning look as he raised an eyebrow.

But he didn’t say anything. He leaned down and placed his lips on yours. Your eyes closed and you finally found some strength in your arms and wrapped one around him, your fingers lightly scratching his back as his lips caressed yours.

His fingers press into your scalp while he listens to you moan.

“Should I trust you?” He says before kissing your neck.

You whimper as he presses his chest onto yours, his pelvis resting against you. You widen your legs a little, your breath leaving you as soon as you feel his hard member poke against the blanket.

He continues to kiss your lips, the way his tongue leaves gentle licks along your bottom lip and the way his hands move on your scalp puts you in a trance.

You reach down into his boxers and take his hard member into your hand, cupping it and moving it up and down slowly.

A groan leaves his lips and enters your mouth, you continue to stroke his member. 

He then kisses your neck. “Oh, little mouse, you’re too good and making me feel this way.” He growls and bucks into your hand.

You feel a growing moisture in between your legs.

“You should trust me..I’m yours.” You whisper against his ears as you rub the precum in his tip with your thumb.

“I want to feel you..please.”

Taeyong kisses your collarbone and sucks hard. “Say it.”

“Want to feel you inside me..” 

A whimper escapes your throat. You’re so pent up, you feel you might burst.

Taeyong lifts himself from you and throws the blanket beside you, revealing your naked body and drenched entrance.

“What do you want me to do?” Taeyong smirks, his forehead glistening with sweat. He removes your hand and replaces it with his own, positioning his cock right in front of your needy opening.

“Taeyong…” you gasp as you watch the toned figure above you and run your hand down his abs.

He nearly cums as he watches his name fall from your innocent lips. Your eyes widen and you lick your lips while your chest rises up and down rapidly.

He watches you stare at his cock as he pleasures it himself.

“Fuck me..”

Taeyong chuckles then rubs his tip in between your folds. You moan at the feeling of something finally against your throbbing hole.

He doesn’t waste any more time as he pushes into you, thrusting your body upwards against the bed.

“Yes..”

You feel every vein of his wonderful cock as he runs it against your silky walls. You clench without control and whimper as he pushes in harder.

“Are you going to cum so soon, little mouse?” Taeyong tilts his head as he watches your jaw tense. He holds onto your knees, pushing them further apart making you cry out.

Your legs wrap around his waist. Your hands shake and grip his back as if to hold onto your sanity.

He presses his thumb onto your clit. “Answer me, sweetheart.”

“Y-yes..”

Taeyong continues to move his thumb sensually in circles onto your body. He looks into your pure eyes.

Time moves in slow motion as your body trembles.

 You cry out his name one final time and dig your fingers into his back.

Taeyong cums soon after, groaning and releasing onto your breasts as they move up and down rapidly.

He treasures the sight of your entire body shining with sweat and now his cum on your beautiful chest.

He leans down and kisses your nipples before flattening his tongue onto each one slowly.

“Oh..Taeyong..” you moan and close your eyes, your hands running through his scalp.

You cum again a few minutes after. That day, you and Taeyong made love and love again on his bed, your bodies entangled with each other while you change positions. Your tongues never grew tired, your hands covered all areas of skin, your neck covered in love bites. and your bodies sunk into the cloud-like bed once it was all over.

But as you laid down beside Taeyong, you couldn’t help but think about how Taeyong never answered your question.

He never said if he trusted you.

————

[Three Days Later]

Taeyong dropped you off and picked you up from all of your classes. He didn’t let you see or speak to your parents. But they didn’t reach out to you either. You wondered why they gave up so easily, but then you remembered your father's words. He only wanted to protect himself and his money. It hurt knowing that he was this way all while being involved in illegal activities with Taeyong.

You finally realized that it was your father that caused the break in, you felt betrayed by the man you were raised by.

You started to question your faith, but you still visited the church and prayed. You prayed for your family’s health and safety, you prayed for Mark’s safe arrival in heaven and for your forgiveness. Each time you thought of him, you teared up.

You also prayed for Jaehyun’s safety. You hoped that you wouldn’t run into him on campus, for you knew that he would ask too many questions.

The fact that Taeyong could possibly have his guys watch you on campus to see who you interacted with made you nervous.

No one was safe around you until you gained Taeyong’s trust.

And when you asked for it, Taeyon would only give you a small smile and caress your cheek with his thumb. He’d say you were “cute” or start to kiss you.

But last night he said “soon..I will.”  

You weren’t sure what he meant by that but his words haunted you even as you walked to class.

You looked onto the sidewalk and gripped your backpack, you were about to cross the street at a stoplight when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Hey, stranger.” 

You turned to see a dimpled, brown haired boy.

Jaehyun. Oh no. 

You looked around nervously. “Jaehyun! Hey, how are you?”

He smiled widely. “I’m alright, how are you? How have you been doing?” He stepped towards you with a look of concern.

“I’m fine! I’m sorry about what happened, I-I blew things out of proportion.” You smiled back, but your eyes still looked anxious.

Jaehyun looked around, then looked back at you.

“What-who are you looking for?”

“Huh? I’m sorry, what?”

“You keep looking around like someone is watching you, is everything okay?” He whispered.

“Oh! Haha, yeah everything is fine, I was just looking for my friend, we’re supposed to walk to class together!”

“Oh, I see. Well, I’d love to study or even have dinner with you if you have time today..”

“I’d love to, but I already have plans…” you looked out across the street and pretended to wave to someone.

“Oh! She’s over there, I’d love to talk more, but I have to go, I’ll catch you l-“

You start to walk away, but Jaehyun takes your hand and tugs you back slightly.

He stares at your wrist. You hadn’t noticed that when you waved, your sleeve had fallen down slightly, revealing the subtle markings left from the straps Taeyong used to tie you to the cross a few nights ago.

Jaehyun’s eyes grew. “Y/n..what is this? Are you in trouble?”

You tugged your hand away and rubbed your wrist. “It-it’s nothing! I just had a, um, an allergic reaction to this bracelet my mom bought me!”

Jaehyun tilts his head. “Y/n..you can talk to me.”

“I’m fine, trust me..I’ll see you later, okay? I really have to go..” you spring away as Jaehyun opens his mouth to protest.

While in class, you struggle to focus on your studies. You thought about Taeyong, and how you could love someone that killed people. Those videos replayed throughout your mind, but so did the memories of Taeyong’s bright smile and laugh. You can’t push away the feelings you have when you look at him, falling into him every time as he magically makes you forget all that he’s done. Is this love? It felt like it, but something still felt wrong.

“Miss y/l/n...care to join us?”

Professor Li interrupted your thoughts.

You nodded. “I’m sorry, what was the question?”

“In 2 Samuel 11, David displeased the Lord by doing what?” The professor's deep voice echoed in the silent classroom of about 50 people.

Your mouth falls open. You hadn’t read that section and had no clue what the answer was. 

“I-I..”

He stepped closer to your desk with his book in hand. “Stuttering? No, David did not do that..”

He looks down on you intimidatingly. You sunk down into your chair as your face felt hot.

“Miss y/l/n, I don’t understand how you can take so much time away from class only to fall behind..you’ve had plenty of time at home to read, isn’t that right?”

“Y-yes, Professor.”

“Then why haven’t you read this? Do you expect knowledge and information to just jump into the tiny brain of yours? You have to read so you can absorb it all, make it bigger.”

“You’re right, I’m s-“

“Don’t apologize, just open the book and read the words, or do I need to send you back to English 101?”

A few snickers erupted in the class. Your vision became blurry as you teared up.

“No, professor, I will read it tonight.” Your voice barely above a whisper. 

“Did we all hear that class? Miss y/l/n has decided to actually do the readings for class, let’s give her a round of applause..” Everyone clapped for you and some students started to laugh out more as the professor rolled his eyes and walked back to the board.

You grabbed your backpack and quickly headed for the door when class ended.

“Miss y/l/n..I need you to stay after class for a few minutes..”

You sighed and stepped to the side to allow other students to leave his class.

Once the room was empty, the professor called you over to his desk.

“Are you okay?” The 50-something year old looked into your eyes over his glasses.

“I’m fine..” you played with your thumbs in front of your skirt.

“Do you have...personal.. stuff going on at home?”

“Yes..”

Professor Li was always jealous of your father. He hated how much power he had and made it known to you every time he had you in class, but today he really embarrassed you and you just wanted to run home and cry.

“I understand if you don’t want to talk about it, I’m sure being the child of a pastor is no easy task…” he stands up and stretches.

“But remember to always have faith, to always believe in the good Lord, and to serve him well..”

You nodded. Of course you knew all of this, but why did he make you nervous with each step he took towards you?

“With that being said..I suggest you spend less time with these sinful boys and more time with your head in the books.”

“I’m sorry? I’m not following..” your brows furrow.

He chuckled and looked to the side as he stood in front of you and leaned back on the desk.

“Come on, y/n..these little skirts that you wear even during the winter time..the knee highs..where is your modesty?”

He eyed you up and down and even had the audacity to bite his lips as he stared at a loose button in your top.

You scoff. “Shouldn’t you be worried about your wandering eyes and sexualization of me?”

He stood up straight and looked onto you sternly. “What did you say to me?”

“I’ve done nothing for you to accuse me of ditching class to engage in sexual activities..” you firmly let out.

He laughs then grabs your waist, you jump and try to push him away but he pulls you onto him firmly.

“Let go! You creep!” You shove him away.

“Y/n..” 

That familiar voice echoed in the room.

The professor immediately lets go and looks frightened.

You turn to see Taeyong.

“Taeyong?” 

Taeyong doesn’t look at you, he glares at the man that touched you and walks over slowly.

“Hey, little mouse, I was worried about you..” he says coolly, but the look on his face is hauntingly unreadable. You feel your stomach grow sick as he gets closer, the crazy glint in his eyes becoming more and more visible.

He looks at you and takes your face in his hand. He wipes a tear that has fallen down your cheek with his thumb.

“I saw everyone leave class...except for you.” His eyes shift from your face and onto Professor Li’s.

The professor swallows hard, his skin crawling with unease as Taeyong’s aura is dark and nerve racking. He had no idea who this man was but the tattoos, red hair, and piercings told him enough.

“...why is that, professor?” 

“Miss y/l/n is falling behind on her studies, but now I see what, or rather, who she’s been preoccupied with..” the professor eyes Taeyong up and down and looks at him with disgust.

Taeyong smiles wickedly. “I’ll be sure to take care of what’s keeping her from succeeding, Professor..maybe you should take care of those...lingering hands..”

He turns to look up at the crucifix above the professor's desk.

“I'm sure the lord is not too happy about that move you just pulled.” He still has that crazy smile on his face as he takes your hand.

The professors mouth fell open.

“We should leave..” Taeyong did everything in his power to hold back his desire to bash this man’s head on the desk.

You both walked away, but not before the professor let out one final remark.

“Lust..It was a sin of lust that David committed.”

You continued walking as the professor let out a chuckle.

Taeyong drove you back to his place in silence.

“Are you upset with me?” You turn and ask him while in the passenger seat of his brand new sports car.

“No, of course not, I know it was out of your control.”

You didn’t know what to be more worried about. The fact that Taeyong waited only a few minutes for you to disappear from his sight before he searched for you, or the fact that he let your professor off so easily. It was unlike him.

“Will you hurt him?” You ask.

Taeyong hums for a moment and tilts his head. “Maybe..maybe not, what would you like me to do?”

“I-I don’t know, he was so mean to me..” you shocked yourself. Your immediate response should’ve been “don’t hurt him.” But instead, you actually contemplated whether or not he should receive some sort of punishment. Was Taeyong changing you?

“Well, little mouse, I’m sure everything will work out in the end...don’t worry about him, he’ll never place a finger on you again.” He turns to you, there’s a wild look in his eyes that you can’t describe.

You approach the apartment complex and Taeyong parks into a spot designated to him. You click open your seatbelt, but Taeyong holds your hand.

“Hey..” he calls out to you softly and looks down to your lips.

“Yes..” 

Taeyong is captivated by your eyes, deep and so round. 

He clicks his seatbelt open too and leans over to kiss you, turning his head as his warm tongue brushed against your bottom lip for entrance.

You close your eyes and deepen the kiss, your arms going up and around his neck to pull him closer. Your thighs tighten together as you feel a wet sensation building in between them. Taeyong has this effect on you, every time, he so easily turns you into a begging and needy mess.

Taeyong grips your thigh and pulls it away, leaving you subject to the cold air in the car.

You moan into his mouth as you feel his digits press onto your slit, gliding up and down slowly.

He chuckles. “Ahh such a good girl…” Taeyong kisses your neck as he pushes one finger in, your body shifting in the seat to get a better feeling of his wonderful fingers inside you. The image of Taeyongs veiny, tattooed arm disappearing into your skirt makes you moan with more volume.

“That’s it, little mouse, tell me how good your pussy feels..” He pushes another finger into you then rubs your bud with his thumb.

You bite your lips as his fingers pump in and out of you while pressing onto your sweet spot. But Taeyong taps against it teasingly, barely pressing into it.

“Harder...please.” You breathily exclaim.

“No..you have to tell me how good it feels..”

He says against your neck then bites it.

“Ahh!” You yelp. “It feels good, s-so good.”

He watches your mouth fall open through low eyes, your pussy becoming increasingly wet as he continues to explore your walls with his long fingers. 

He takes your hand and places it onto the tent in his pants. “Do you feel that?”

“Yes..” you bite your lips.

He bucks into your hand as you palm it. “Do you want it? Tell me badly you want it..” a smile falls onto his lips as he whispers against your jaw.

“I want it, Taeyong, I want you..fuck me please.” 

Your hips move on their on onto his hand, you can’t hold back any longer and clench just at the thought of Taeyong fucking you hard in his brand new car.

But Taeyong pulls his fingers out, a pop echoing in the car. He licks his fingers slowly and closes his eyes.

“As you wish, sweetheart.”

You whimper at the sudden emptiness.

“Take your panties off for me, but leave your pretty skirt on..”

You immediately drag your underwear down your legs and leave it on the floor, then turn to Taeyong and wait for his next instruction.

“Get in the back..” he demands and turns the dash cam on his windshield around to record the inside of the vehicle instead.

You go to open the door but Taeyong stops you.

“No, no...through here..crawl back there.”

He smirks as he taps the center console.

You crawl over it, your hands resting firmly against the back seat as your abs flex to bring the rest of your body to the back.

But Taeyong chuckles and wraps his arm under your stomach. He grips you tightly, holding you in place as you whimper.

“T-Taeyong?” You breathe heavily while in this weird position, your ass up and head down as your knees rest on the arm rest.

“Yes, little mouse, I just want to admire you from this angle for a moment.” You hear a low chuckle escape Taeyong. He flips up the frilly end of your skirt.

Your bare ass and dripping pussy is now on display for him and the camera.

He uses his other hand and swats your opening. Your legs become weak.

The high pitched noise you make makes Taeyong grow even more.

He slides his fingers in between your folds, coating them with your slick once again.

“I love your body, sweet girl, but your pussy is my favorite part..it’s so wet, I wish you could see it right now.” His deep, husky voice is laced with lust.

He spreads his index and middle finger to separate and expose your silky hole, but does so at an awfully slow pace. You moan and move against his fingers, hoping to gain more friction.

But Taeyong withdraws his fingers and slaps your ass.

“You’re being impatient, little mouse..”

“I’m-I’m sorry, please..I need you..” you beg.

Taeyong hums as he watches your essence run down your thighs and even to your pink knee highs.

Your arms begin to hurt from holding your body up.

Taeyong continues to play with your flower, pushing his fingers in and out while you’re at this new angle.

As you get closer, clenching around him as your legs tremble, he moves his fingers faster, creating a sinful sound with your body as your high pitched moans grow louder.

Taeyong takes his fingers out slowly just as you’re about to cum. He bites his lips as he watches your smooth skin become even more wet, essence running out of you like a flood.

He can’t take it anymore, he has to fuck you so he takes his arm from under you.

“You may go back now.”

He leaves the car and joins you in the backseat.

He immediately moves to the center of it and brings you over his waist.

You kneel over him and unbutton your shirt. Taeyongs eyes are glued to your dainty fingers revealing your chest to him.

“Taeyong… I want you so badly.” You moan out then lick your lips. 

He looks delectable under you, his ruby red hair pushed back and his eyes low.

He unbuckles his belt and pulls his aching member out.

“Do you want my cock, little mouse?”

He leans his head back onto the head rest while he watches you unhook your bra in the back.

“Y-yes”

“Then you should take it, right?” He looks down and taps his dick against your thigh.

You nod and kneel directly over his delicious cock. You lower yourself onto him slowly, your hands gripping his shoulders as you cry out from the satisfaction of him finally being inside, filling you up completely.

“Good girl..” Taeyong whispers. He leans back and watches you bounce on him, your breasts jumping and your eyes shutting tightly.

You swivel your hips as his cock slides in and out of you, grinding into your tight, plush pussy.

Taeyong runs his hands along your thighs, pushing your skirt up your stomach so he can finally see you take his cock and cover it in shining slick.

The car is filled with grunts and moans as you ride him, you finally find the perfect spot, his dick curves into you and presses against it.

“Oh!! Taeyong, I’m going to..” you throw your head back, the bundle of knots slowly start to unravel. You move even faster.

“Mmmm..yes, sweetheart, I know..” Taeyong says smoothly before gripping your waist with both hands and picking you up off of him.

“Taeyong! No..please!” You cry out, once again you are so close, only to be shunned away from your release.

He turns you around and lowers you back onto him. He slams into you as he brings a hand to your neck. He presses his thumb and fingers into the side of it as you whimper.

Your legs spread more as Taeyong’s dick curves into you at a different but still satisfactory angle.

He squeezes his hand around your throat and buried himself into you deeper, using your body more like a sex doll as the camera records.

He thinks about how fucked out you looked right now, your mouth open, practically drooling and your hair messy. Your hands grabbing at your breasts and playing with your nipples. He knows he’ll watch this video later and enjoy watching you lose your innocence in the back of his car, he’ll enjoy the sight of each whimper falling from your pretty mouth and your skirt riding up as you kneel over him in cute knee highs.

He then uses his other hand and rubs his fingertips into your clit. 

You gasp as your eyes open. You clench around him without control now.

His hips snap into you harder and his hand tightens around your neck. “I'm going to cum in you, sweetheart, going to fill you so well with my cum. Is that what you want?” He growls in your ear. He can just imagine how beautiful you’d looked with swollen breasts during a pregnancy, the glow of your skin and full cheeks as you carry his babies. Somehow, you’d be even prettier.

He draws circles into your clit even harder, your pussy becoming consumed by him as he combines it with his tip rubbing against your sweet spot with every push.

“Ahh! Taeyong!” You scream his name out. “Yes! Yes!”

“I’m going to push it so deep into your fertile pussy, breed you and make you mine forever, would you like that?”

“Yes! Yes, Taeyong, I want you” your head falls back over his shoulders releasing onto him as his dirty words echo in your mind.

Your body shakes as he releases into you as well, keeping his promise and cumming into your depths as he holds you fast against him.

His fingers push into your mouth. You close your eyes and suck them clean as your movement onto his cock slows.

He slides out of your opening a few more times, making sure that not one bit of his cum escapes you.

He kisses your neck. “You did so well, little mouse. I’m so happy you’re mine.”

———

[A Few Days Later]

You studied in the library with Jaehyun, focusing on your papers and last minute research before you went home—to Taeyong’s place to sleep. There was barely anyone on your floor in the library, so you figured no one could watch you and Jaehyun there.

Living with Taeyong was definitely different from living with your family, but you didn’t mind it. Taeyong usually stayed out late, but when he did come home, he’d cuddle you and make sure that you’re okay.

 You’d watch movies together and enjoy take out every now and then. Other than feeling like you were being watched 24/7, life with Taeyong wasn’t that bad.

“Do you need me to read over your paper?” Jaehyun leaned over to you. 

You look up from your laptop and stop typing.

“Hmmm that’s a good idea. Thank you! And I’ll read over yours.”

Jaehyun smiles as you switch laptops.

“Jaehyun? What is this?” You’re confused as you only see a blank page on his laptop.

“Oh, I’m sorry about that..just scroll down.”

He watches you scroll down the page.

But there’s only one sentence in the middle of it.

Y/n, will you see a movie with me after finals?

You smile widely and look up at him.

He blushes. “Keep scrolling.”

Pros of dating me: Hand holder Top tier hugs Tall Dimples Good cook Can and will make you laugh Cons of dating me: I might pass gas if I laugh too hard  None :)

You giggle after reading the last sentence. You wished so badly that you could date Jaehyun. He was caring, sweet, a devout Christian, and yes, unbelievably handsome. But the timing was bad. You loved Taeyong, you couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.

And so, your smile faded as reality set in.

You clear your throat. “Jaehyun..I wish I could..you’re an amazing guy, but..”

“Was it the passing gas part?” Jaehyun’s brows furrow.

“No!” You chuckle. “No, it’s not that at all.its just..I’m seeing someone right now..”

“Oh.” He nods slowly, the corners of his mouth slowly fall and his dimples no longer show.

“I’m sorry, Jaehyun.”

He smiles brightly again. “It’s okay! I thought I’d ask, I really like spending time with you, but I completely understand..let’s focus on finals then.”

You nod.

—————

[The Next Day]

Taeyong picks you up from class, but doesn’t take you home.

“Where are we going?” You look at the side of Taeyong’s face, he looks especially striking with the light from the red stop sign on his face, his strong cheekbones peeking through. His eyes are intense, but your attention goes from his hands gripping the steering wheel to his biceps flexing as he turns the car, and from his thighs in his black skinny jeans then to his button down silk shirt with three loose buttons.

 You bite your lips as your mind runs wild with thoughts of him on you.

“We’re going to do something very fun tonight. Think of it as a...couple game! In the end, we’ll be closer than we’ve ever been.” Taeyong says excitedly.

“That sounds fun.” You smile. 

But you slowly came to the realization that this would be an interesting night as you approached a gloomy and daunting warehouse.

“Taeyong..what is this?” You ask as he puts the vehicle in park.

“Come on. You’ll understand once we get inside.”

It’s just the two of you inside the dark box. Taeyong pulls a chain that makes bright led lights turn on above you. When you look around you large cases  and tables all around. It didn’t feel like you were about to play a game there.

You hear a muffled scream and shuffling.

“What was that?” Your eyes grow as you recognize the sound of a man in distress.

“Ah..yes, our contestant..”

Taeyong takes your hand and leads you to the corner of the room.

“Contestant?”

You stumble behind him as he walks fast. 

You see a camera on a tripod, and as you get closer, you see that it is set a few feet in front of a man tied to a chair with a black bag over his face.

His body is completely tied to the chair with rope wrapping around his midsection and legs.

His hands are bound together on rest on his lap.

The man screeches as he hears the two of you step closer to him.

“Taeyong?! What have you done?” You turn to him and begin to panic. You prayed that it wasn’t Jaehyun.

“I have a surprise for you, little mouse.”

You always dreaded Taeyong’s surprises.

He goes behind the man and tears the bag off.

A breath leaves your body when you recognize the man, even with bruised eyes and a bloody, swollen lip. A rag is over his mouth to quiet him.

“Ta da! You didn’t think I’d let this bastard get away with what he did to you, right?”

Your mouth falls open. “Taeyong..no..I don’t want this.”

You watch Professor Li’s eyes widen once he recognizes you. He cries harder and louder, his shrieks so bone chilling, you cringe.

Taeyong laughs out. “Of course you do!”

He bends down and places his head into the crook of the professor’s shoulder.

“He treated yourself like shit, then touched you inappropriately...don’t you want him to suffer?”

Taeyong smiles wickedly.

“N-no..I..I don’t know.” Once again you found yourself questioning everything you had learned. Does everyone deserve forgiveness? 

“You do know, little mouse. That fury in your veins, that tingling in your body that makes you want to choke this bastard till he can no longer breathe...embrace it. Don’t hold back.”

You look away.

Taeyong begins to grow impatient. “He’s an asshole, what if he goes after another girl in his class? Don’t you wonder how many women he’s fucked just so he can give them a passing grade?”

You close your eyes tightly and feel tears fall on your cheek.

Taeyong stands up straight and walks over to you.

He cups your face.

“Little mouse, you always ask me if I trust you...if you do this for me, if you prove that you will kill anyone that touches you because they’re not me..then I will trust you.”

Your eyes open. You can’t explain this need to please Taeyong, but when you look into his mahogany eyes, you feel a fire start in your chest.

You nod slowly. “I—I want you to trust me, Taeyong, but I don’t know if I can do this.”

Taeyong smiles slyly. “I know you can’t, that’s why we’ll do it together.”

He takes your hand and leads you over to a table with all sorts of weapons laid out.

Professor Li squirms in his seat and cries out so hard, he begins to cough.

He begs for this to end, to be released. You think about Taeyong’s words. 

Taeyong picks up a large and intimidating hedge shears.

He hands it to you.

“I’m going to hold his dirty hands up, I want you to open and close this like they’re scissors. We are cutting the evil away from this world.” Taeyong smiles softly.

The professor is a tyrant and uses his status to lure girls in. He’s disgusting and the world would be a better place without him. You said this to yourself over and over, trying to convince yourself that what you’re about to do is justifiable.

You stand to one side of him while Taeyong stands across from you and on his other side.

The professor still tries to get out of the chair, but he’s bound so tightly, his efforts are in vain.

Taeyong grabs his elbows, straightening out his tied  arms up and in front of him. You open the trimmers and position them around his wrists.

Taeyong’s smile grows. “Just like that, sweetheart. Now, snip snip.”

You look at his trembling hands in front of you, ignoring his tears and snot nose as the memories of him gripping your waist and pulling him onto you flood in. You remembered the intense discomfort, the slight panic before Taeyong saved you. You knew you didn’t want anyone else to experience it.

You pressed the handles together and SHRING. 

His bound hands fly to the floor, blood splatters across your face as well as Taeyong’s.

Taeyong laughs loudly as the old man screams out in pain. Blood gushes from his exposed tendons and tissue. You nearly throw up at the sight and drop the shears.

You back away and look in horror as you finally see clearly what you have done.

“T-Taeyong..” you pant.

“You did so well, little mouse..” Taeyong steps towards you and holds your hands.

The professor passes out from blood loss,his head hangs low.

“I-I killed him?” You sob.

“Yes..you did, now he can’t hurt anyone else.”

“But Taeyong..I..” your hands shake. Taeyong pulls them to his face and kisses them.

“Shhhh...it’s okay, I trust you, all that matters is you and me now.”

You nod slowly. 

Taeyong pulls you closer to him. He holds your face in his hands and kisses you deeply. You’re both covered in blood, but it feels so good to hold each other.

Your heart rumbles and your eyes close, you enjoy the touch of Taeyongs heavenly fingers on the small of your back.

Taeyong is so turned on by you finally proving your loyalty to him. You killed someone even while looking like an innocent angel. It was beautiful, you are beautiful.

Taeyong is electrifying, each kiss sends sparks throughout your veins. The adrenaline still pumps through you as you collapse into him and groan. His lips taste like the sweetest cherry, but he smells like blackberries. 

You can’t take it anymore, you need him on you, rubbing his hands all over you as you make love. You pull your shirt over your head and look into his eyes.

“Fuck me..”

Taeyong smirks and rubs his bloody hands over your chest slowly, pushing your breasts together and pinching your nipples.

You moan out into the empty warehouse as he watches your smooth skin become nasty with blood. Your neck smeared with splattered markings.

Taeyong pushes you into the wall, spinning you around so his chest is on your back.

He gets on his knees and pulls your skirt down at a painfully slow rate.

“Taeyong..please.” You cry out as you step out of it.

He only gets out a low and husky laugh as he places his hands onto your butt cheeks and massages them.

He separates them carefully while staring at your essence dripping from your folds.

He licks his lips then licks onto the slit slowly.

You whimper and push your butt out to him more. He grabs your ankles and licks again, only this time, pushing the tip of his tongue in harder to brush it against your clit.

You yelp while grabbing your breasts and playing with your nipples.

“You’re so hot, sweetheart.”

Taeyong lays his tongue out flat again, going in deeper and flexing his tongue.

On instinct, you grind against his face, praying that he goes a little faster because you’re so close from his teasing, you could cry.

“Taeyong!! Please don’t stop!” You gasp and move faster.

He flips you around by placing his hands on your waist.

“Use me, little mouse.”

He sticks his tongue out then buries his face in between your legs once more, only this time, he maintains eye contact with you. His devilish eyes watching your shining, blood covered breasts and the way you bite your lips.

He moves slowly, but you grab his hair and grind down onto his mouth. He flexes his tongue and pushes it in as deep as possible.

“Ahh! Taeyong..fuck..” 

Hearing you curse is all he needs to hear, his boner straining and flinching against his tight jeans.

You move your hips faster and ride his face as he watches you above him, you can only feel that feeling in your stomach, that release that you’re so close to while looking into his low eyes.

Your clit brushes against his nose over and over, he hums to send vibrations through your core.

Your pussy clenches and your grip on his hair tightened, but Taeyong continues to explore every part of you with his tantalizing tongue.

“Taeyong..fuck..oh my god.” Your hips stop moving and your body weakens, but Taeyong quickly stands and takes your hand.

He takes you with him to the table and brushes off all of the weapons that were on it before.

He presses you down onto the table with his chest on your back again then zips his pants and lets his cock loose. He doesn’t give you time to adjust as he slides his needy cock into your soaking flower.

He brings your ass to his hips and groans. 

“Ahhh..my nasty girl.” His hoarse voice enters your ear.

He snaps into you harder, lewd sounds of his cock gliding into your wet pussy fill the room.

He presses his hand into the small of your back. 

You whimper. “Harder, Taeyong..” 

“Oh? Greedy, now aren’t we?” 

Taeyong brings your ass back onto him so hard, you feel the breath leave your body. You cry out his name as he does it again.

His cock fills you up perfectly, grinding against your velvety walls even as they tremble.

Taeyong pulls out then flips you over.

He wants to see just how well you take him because it just feels so good.

He groans as you spread your legs across the table for him to see your drenched pussy aching for him.

You run your hands down your body and lick your lips. “Please..Taeyong...I’m so wet for you..”

Taeyong holds you by the crook of your knees and pushes into you again, watching as your right opening somehow molds itself around his cock, coating it in your delicious juices.

You bite your lips to hold back a moan while you watch Taeyong bury himself into you. He would’ve sucked your gorgeous tits like he always does but this time he just wants to watch himself fuck into you, he wants to see you become filled with nothing but him.

He grips your legs hard and moves faster, his movement blurring as he chases after his high.

The added stimulation of his new speed makes you clench uncontrollably. You throw your head back and welcome another orgasm just as Taeyong welcomes his. This time, he doesn’t pull out, he thrusts into you one final time and coats your walls with strings of cum.

Your groans and moans mesh with each other and fill the room.

Taeyong pulls out of you and taps his cock against your clit. You moan and flinch at the overwhelming stimulation.

He leans down and kisses your lips as he teases your sensitive opening.

You whine and move your hips against his cock. It is only somewhat limp and even though you’ve just cum, you still want more.

You press onto his chest lightly to stop the kiss. You look into his eyes.

He chuckles. “What? Do you still want more?”

“Yes..” you bite your lips and look at him with wide, innocent eyes, making his heart shutter.

He sits on a chair adjacent to the table and right beside the professor’s dead body.

“Come here, little mouse.” He pats his lap. 

You lower yourself onto him and slowly rock back and forth until you feel him grow inside you.

Ecstasy floods throughout your bodies all night as you make love. You pay no attention to the dead man in the room or your bodies covered in blood. 

You even forgot about the camera with the beeping red light.

————

[Two Days Later]

Taeyong had just dropped you off at class when he decided to sneak into your parents house. He knew your father would be home and in his office and he also knew that with some bribing, his security guards would easily let him in without notifying him.

Your father plopped himself into his seat, placing his glass of whiskey beside his notepad on the desk, never realizing the figure in the corner of the room.

Taeyong watches as your father opened up his laptop to see nothing but a black screen.

“What the-“ he mumbles and looks over his glasses onto his keyboard. “God damn technology..”

Taeyong clicks the small clicker in his hand to play the video on your father's laptop.

You father squints and looks closely He jumps once the video starts playing.

‘Just like that sweetheart, now snip snip’

He recognizes the voice in the video.

His eyes enlarge.

“What in the-“ 

He tries to pause the video but he can’t, only Taeyong has control.

“Oh..God.” He sits back in his chair when he sees you. his beloved daughter, cute the hands off of a man.

He continues watching as his eyes brim with tears.

He sees the man pass out then you tearing your shirt off. He turns away from the screen and sobs.

“My daughter...my poor daughter.”

“You should be proud of her..”

Taeyong steps out from the corner.

Your father jumps in his seat and grabs his letter opener. “Who’s there?”

“It’s your son-in-law, I knew you’d be thrilled to see me.”

Your father sits back in his chair and looks at Taeyong through eyes of pure hatred.

“what have you done to her?”

“I’ve only allowed her to be her true self. You should be so worried.” Taeyong sits down across from him.

“Yeah..she killed someone, but hey, if you knew the guy, you’d probably kill him too.” He shrugs.

“I will bring you down, Taeyong. And I’ll get my daughter back. You have turned her into a monster like you!”

Taeyong shakes his head. “Oh, you fool, don’t you see that’s why I’m here? To let you know that that can’t and will never happen. Why? Well, if I go down, your daughter goes down too.”

Your father brows furrow.

“Who yielded the weapon, pastor?”

He stays silent and grits his teeth

“Oh, but here’s a better question, where IS the weapon?”

Your father sighs. “I hope you endure nothing but pain and suffering when she finally leaves you!” He grumbles out.

“Ah, is it buried somewhere on this 32 acre land you’ve got here?” Taeyong places a finger or his chin and begins to laugh.

“Ah, yes that’s right, it’s buried here somewhere, in the lawn of the man that knew about the crime because he just watched the video. Was the killer’s father the one that hid it to protect her? Oh no!” Taeyong fakes surprise. 

“Do You follow me? It’s a chain reaction, father. I go down, your baby goes down, then you go down as an accessory to the crime.”

Taeyong stands up and brushes his jacket off. “It’s a pity that whatever you and that detective has planned for me will never work. That pathetic attempt you made at getting me locked up for life showed me everything I need to see, and now, I won’t hold back…”

He leans forward and places both hands on the desk. “I am the grim reaper, after all.”

“Fuck you, you can’t threaten me!”

Taeyong laughs and leaves the room.

———-

[A Week Later] 

With finals over you rarely saw your friends, you didn’t even message Jaehyun because you suspected that your messages were being tracked.

You couldn’t take the risk.

Jaehyun, on the other hand, grew worried for you. He asked your friends but no one claimed they had seen or even spoke to you. Just like him, they always got your voicemail when they called.

He went to your father and begged to see you, but that’s when he learned that you no longer stayed there.

When he asked where you were, your father hesitantly told him about Taeyong’s apartment complex because he wouldn’t stop pushing.

He warned him and even told him that Taeyong was a gang leader, but Jaehyun wouldn’t listen. He wanted to save you. The marks on your wrist made him worried and he knew you needed help before it was too late.

He went to the complex and snuck around, hoping not to be seen by anyone. He waited in his car to see if you’d leave at some point. Once he spotted you, he would call out to you and have you jump in his car. He’d speed off with you to get away from this place.

The upper-class and bougie complex was really quiet. It didn’t seem like many people lived there, but there was an eerie aura that Jaehyun couldn’t ignore.

He waited all night for you in his car, but never saw you. He didn’t see anything to be exact. Well, not until a red-haired man and several other guys in black left. They drove off on their motorcycles with the red haired guy leading in front.

Jaehyun quickly unbuckled his seat belt and jumped out of his car he snuck in through a door that hadn’t been shut all the way. He got onto the elevator and took it to the top floor where Taeyong’s supposed penthouse was.

Once he got to the door with the apartment number, he rang the doorbell and looked around nervously.

You looked at the screen that showed you a real-time video of your doorstep and nearly screamed when you saw Jaehyun. You quickly opened the door.

“Jaehyun! You can’t be here! You have to leave!”

You shook your head.

“I just wanted to know if you were okay! I haven’t heard from you in days-“

“Yes! Yes I’m fine but you have to leave!”

“No, you’re not fine. You’ve been kidnapped by a gang leader. Come with me and we’ll go far away! You’ll be safe.”

You gave him a look of confusion. “What? I don’t need to be saved, Jaehyun. I like it here, and I haven’t been kidnapped, who told you that?”

“I don’t need anyone to tell me, y/n! The fact that you’ve been locked up here all night and have your phones turned off tells me that he’s controlling you! He’s taken over your life and you need to get out from under his grasp.” Jaehyun’s eyes search yours, quietly pleading for you to take his hand and run away with him.

“Jaehyun...you have no idea what you’re talking about…” you sigh. “We love each other, okay?”

“But y/n..”

“Just leave! I don’t want to be with you!” You shut your eyes tightly. Jaehyun has been so kind to you, but you felt conflicted with his words. Was he just a product of your old life that you needed to leave behind? Or did he have a point?

He steps back and nods.

“I’m..I’m sorry”

“Jaehyun..” you start to apologize but he walks away swiftly, holding his head low.

You shut the door and lean against it as his words played in your mind.

Jaehyun turned the corner and was about to head for the elevator when he saw another man walking towards it. The man dressed in all black like the other men he saw downstairs. Jaehyun holds his head down and takes the stairs instead.

Jaehyun jogs down the stairs, and about 7 flights down, he bumps into a group of intimidating men.

They smoke cigarettes in between their tattooed fingers and all turn to him.

“Uh..excuse me..”

Jaehyun moves through a small space created for him to pass through, but his heart races. These men looked like gang members, he wondered if he could get out without being noticed.

He runs down the stairs even faster, he gets to the bottom floor, turning the corner to leave. He’s met with the tall man with a broad chest. He collides into him full speed, but the man doesn’t budge. Jaehyun falls back.

“Jaehyun...leaving so soon?” The man says lowly.

Jaehyun looks up slowly, then attempts to bolt in the other direction, but the man wraps his arms around him and pulls him back. He places a towel coated in chloroform over his mouth.

Jaehyun’s vision becomes blurry, he eventually passes out and stops struggling against the man.

————

[The Next Night]

You lay your head on Taeyong’s lap while you watch a movie together. Your mind is preoccupied, however, you think about what Jaehyun said. Was Taeyong too controlling?

“What are you thinking about?” His deep voice lets out.

“Nothing..”

“I trust you to be honest with me, little mouse.” Taeyong massages your scalp.

“Of course…” you answer softly and close your eyes, his long fingers feel good.

“So tell me..who is Jaehyun?” 

Your eyes open and you pick yourself up from his lap.

He grips your chin inbetween his thumb and index finger. “I’ll give you one chance to answer me honestly.”

“He-He’s just a friend..we had a class together and studied together sometimes..” you try to play it off coolly but deep down you panic. How did Taeyong know about him?

“So why did I find this on his dresser?”

Taeyong reaches beside him and dangles your gold cross necklace in your face. You forgot that you had left it at his place.

“I-I must’ve lost it in class.”

“That’s not what Jaehyun says..” Taeyong’s eyes grow angry, he gritts his teeth as he lets your chin go.

“J-Jaehyun? Where is he?” 

“Is this who you ran off to? Is this your “cousin?”

Taeyong stands up from the couch.

“No! No, Taeyong, please believe me. I didn’t stay with him!”

“But he says you did, and I found your necklace earlier today, so are you lying to me?!” 

Your mouth is agape, you weren’t sure what to say, do you tell Taeyong the truth or lie again? Either way he’d be upset.

He huffs. “I can’t believe this..” he pulls out his phone and dials someone up.

“Bring him in!” 

“Okay. Yes I stayed with him, but we didn’t do anything! He was just helping me! I swear!” You cry uncontrollably.

The door clicks open and someone throws Jaehyun inside. His throat is red and bruised with what looks to be a chain pattern.

His hands are tied but he yells as he falls on the floor in the center of the room.

“Do you love him?” Taeyong tilts his head and watches your face, waiting for any slight indication that you are attached to him.

“N-no I dont, I promise he means nothing to me, just let him go!”

You sob.

Jaehyun looks hurt by your words but says nothing, he looks up at Taeyong.

“He means nothing to you? So if I kill him, will it hurt you, make you sad?” Taeyong pouts.

“Taeyong! Please don’t do this again.” You reach out to him, but he steps back.

“Why are you crying so much if you don’t love him?” 

You don’t have an answer.

Taeyong is disappointed, he trusted you, he thought you only loved him, but your actions told him otherwise.

“He’s very pretty, I can see why you fucked him..”

“No! I didn’t, we never-“ you start.

“She’s telling the truth. We never did anything because she only thought about you.” Jaehyun finally lets out.

Taeyong nods. “That’s nice to hear, but I don’t like that you are pretty, Jaehyun. I’ll let you live, but I think we should rough you up a little..”

Taeyong looks up at Johnny and nods. Johnny and Jungwoo each take Jaehyun’s arm and hoist him up. They hold him still as Taeyong flicks his Swedish blade open.

“You came here for her, didn’t you?”

Jaehyun grunts, he breathes heavily through his nostrils.

“Well, I’m going to give you something that will remind you of me every day..when you look in the mirror, you’ll remember how badly you fucked up.”

Taeyong smiles.

“Taeyong, please!” You beg one final time c but he ignored you.

“Y/n, it’s okay, I should’ve listened to you from the first time you said no. I shouldn’t have come here, this isn’t your fault!” Jaehyun cries out.

Taeyong places the sharp blade into Jaehyuns forehead. Jaehyun’s screams make you cover your ears.

Taeyong’s wild eyes watch the sharp tip ruin the beautiful, soft skin of his forehead. Blood gushes out and runs all over Jaehyun’s face as Taeyong carves an X into it.

“No!!!” Jaehyun pulls and tries time and time to move his head but the three men on him keep him still.

“Oh God! Taeyong!” You can’t help but sob heavily. You couldn’t believe this was happening again.

Taeyong throws the blade to the side and smiles as he adores his artwork.

The men let go of Jaehyun and let him fall to the floor.

You crawl to him and hold his face in your hands. Taeyong’s smile drops. You couldn’t possibly be touching and comforting another man.

“And so the truth comes out…” he growls.

“Jaehyun, I am so sorry.” You wipe tears from his eyes and hold him as he cries. Your hands shake as you look at the deep carving inflicted by Taeyong.

“It's okay, it’s not your fault.” Jaehyun’s voice is raspy and hoarse after all his screaming.

“Little mouse...if you wish to leave me...then go, just leave. I can’t take this heartbreak anymore. You’ve lied to me too many times.”

Taeyong sits down on the couch. He sighs and looks away.

“I’m sorry, Taeyong, but I really can’t do this anymore. You hurt anyone that gets close to me..”

“Because I love you..but I guess you do not love me too. I expect loyalty from you at the very least.”

“Taeyong, I-“

“Get out of my sight!” His voice raises. 

You look at Taeyong then back at Jaehyun, he needed to get to a hospital immediately.

You quickly stood up and helped Jaehyun.

“I’m sorry..” you say one final time before taking Jaehyun’s hand and running out the apartment. You felt an uncertainty and a rush as you ran down the stairs. You were free from Taeyong but a part of you didn’t want that.

You pushed the exit door open. Jaehyun pointed out his car. “Over there.” 

You grabbed his key from his hoodie pocket and helped him into his car. He was drifting in and out of consciousness so you would have to drive.

Meanwhile, Johnny watches from the window.

Taeyong stares at the floor while feeling heartbreak and disappointment.

“They’re about to leave, Taeyong, should we proceed?”

Taeyong sighs and thinks for a moment. Should he let you go and move on? Could he be without you forever?

No.

“’X’ marks the spot..” he says and a clicking sound echos into the apartment as a bullet is loaded into the barrel of Johnny’s sniper gun.

You help Jaehyun into the passenger seat and begin to walk around to the driver's side, but a sharp sound rings out into the night then a crash follows.

A bullet flies into the windshield and hits Jaehyun, causing his head to explode into a million pieces in the car. His brains and blood splatter all windows of the car.

Your mouth falls open, your eyes water, you become dizzy. The only thing you can do is stumble and walk backwards and away from the car.

No no no no, this can’t be happening.

You fall to your knees and let out a loud wail into the night as Taeyong heads for the elevator.

Your head falls into your hands as you sob. Another innocent person is killed..because of you.

You feel Taeyong’s cold fingers grip your shoulder. Your face still in your hands while you cry uncontrollably. He’s done it again.

“I told you I’d never let you go, little mouse. You can run and hide, but you’ll always fall into my trap.”

And It’s then that you realize, you truly are stuck with Taeyong—forever.

[octopus-reactivated]

Title me Miss

You remember Decima? If not, here she is.

Tw/cw: Pet whump. legal slavery, stress position, maybe? low self-esteem, dehumanisation, unreliable narrator, derogatory language

__________

The cage was small, much smaller than cages usually used in stores. He had to bend while kneeling. His back hurt and he wanted to lay down, curl up on cold floor, but then he wouldn't be able to get at kneeling position fast, and if someone would look at him, and see he isn't even kneeling, then he won't be bought and taken to new home and new Master and it’s not like his chances were high to begin with.

He had to stay in this uncomfortable position. Of course stupid Pet like him deserved anything better, anyway.

__________

That's bad - thought Paparazzi realising the celebrity saw her taking a photo of him. Except that she wasn't a paparazzi, and he wasn't a celebrity.

Caretaker quickly turned around trying to walk away without getting into a confrontation. It was most likely that she would be able to get away, and even if man would demand to delete photos, she already switched memory cards, so the evidence was safe.

She took a glance into a reflective surface. Yep. Mr. Politician was following her, and even pointed at her. Rude. She hid behind the nearest corner, taking her jacket off. Then she hopped into the closest shop and got wig off - good thing she actually decided to start using them. She walked into the furthest part of the shop, hiding clothing, wig and camera in a bag and done! Caretaker can be a different person now! It took her 15 seconds no more. Still far away from a perfect time of 7 seconds, but most likely 15 seconds would be enough.

Caretaker calmed herself down, and crunched behind a cage

And then she saw where she was. A “Pet” shop. She realised There was a human in a cage, and he looked at her with hopeful eyes. Oh no. She suddenly felt guilty. She never was brave enough to go after a big company. Did this combination of events happen to show her what happens to people because she refuses to take action... Even if this action is just spying on corrupted politicians?

She will have to pull herself together and inform Justin she's ready to hunt down big fish.

Caretaker stayed a little longer, until she decided it was safe to go. She stood up and at that moment a man in a cage whimpered. She looked at the boy. He had teary eyes. Was it because she didn't want to buy him? Why would anyone be sad for not getting bought? Maybe Pets were punished when someone decided to leave them? It made no sense, but common sense probably got beaten out of them. Whatever it was, the boy was authentically sad.

"I'm just... looking at the description, don't worry" she sent him a reassuring smile. What the what was she doing? She's not here to buy anything? Maybe she would be able to steal him? No, she's a simple photographer playing spy, not a thief. And THAT would be illegal, and she can't have a criminal record. Caretaker looked at papers glued to the board over the cage. Age, physical attributes, placing of scars, training facility, 'one previous owner' note, price - cheaper than she would expect for a human being- what he was trained to, blablabla...

"Interested in-" without thinking, she turned around and punched the owner of a voice in the stomach. He bent in half. Only then she realised it was one of the employees.

"I'm so sorry i didn't mean to hurt you, you terrified me" she apologised quickly, and she meant it. She really was sorry for punching an innocent person. Oh wait, this guy works at Pet store. Nevermind, she's not sorry. Unless that would make a fuss and affect her reputation. Then maybe a little.

Employee straighten up

"You're stronger than you look like" He said, quite impressed.

"Thank you. I didn't meant to use that strength on you"

"No problem, it was my fault anyway. I tend to walk quiet" He said, but to be honest it sounded a little forced. Later on he will trash talk about her to his friends for sure. "Anyway i was meant to ask if you're interested in this Pet"

"Well, I am considering... "

"We also have many others here, or you can visit our website and..."

"No thank you... I think… I think I will talk to my friend, he's like 78% of my impulse control. I will be back in a few minutes."

"Of course if you want to discuss it with someone..." Employee looked disappointed, but he also didn't want to come out as pushy, so he didn't stop her.

When she was walking away Pet sniffed, and an employee kicked cage saying something angrily. He switched from servile to cruel in seconds. Disgusting, absolutely disgusting. She will stop this. But first she had to make a call.

__________

Pet was waiting, hoping for the impossible, and then- then someone walked in and looked at him! Mistress with exotic blue hair! She was looking at him! Maybe she will pet him and decide he looks adorable and take him? He tried so hard to look cute!

Of course it wasn't enough. Mistress stood up. Why would she want a disgusting, horrible Pet like him? He whimpered and shut up immediately. He didn't get permission to make a sound. Bad, untrained Pet.

"I'm just looking at the description, don't worry," Lady said. Of course, you stupid mutt. Humans won't just decide by looking at face, they would want to know... all those important stuff written in his document, that he was to stupid to understeand.

One of the Masters came and talked to Lady... but she just punched him! And the Master was in pain, but still didn't get mad... Did it mean that Lady was so cruel she wanted to hurt even other humans and powerful enough to get away with this? Pet trembled.

Master tried to convince her to purchase one of Pets, him or some other, that was less useless, bu the Lady apparently didn't liked anything, so she used banal excuse even dumb Pet was able to look through and left.

He tried not to cry.

Master kicked his cage.

"Can't you even try to be less hopeless?" he said angry

__________

"Justin, my beloved, my light, my braincell and my source of income i need your advice"

Sigh.

"What is this time?"

"So I was doing as you said, and you were right, they really met and there was a third man with them, and I got photos, but he saw me and..."

"Did you lose evidence?"

"Nah, don't worry it's safe like a baby in your mother's arms. The thing is I had to flee and I went into the first open store and there was Pet and he looked so sad, and I have to take him now, but..."

"I see, do you want me to gently sway you from making decisions you already know it's bad, or do you look for my genuine opinion about your capability of taking care of a pet with your job?"

"No no no no no. You misunderstood me. It was A Pet. And I want to take him, because I'm afraid they will beat him to death if i don't but I also don't want to give them my money. I don't want to contribute to the system, but stealing is bad and I don't know what to do anymore."

"Okay. Okay, wait a moment i need to think about it for second"

"Okay"

"Alright, I have an idea: big companies like that always have some dirt. So do like this: go to this store and buy him casually, but look for old ventilation, unsafely placed things or anything. Note that and take photos if you can, and we will later snitch on them for WHS violation or something"

"Okay. Thank you i knew i could count on you"

__________

Pet was kneeling in the cage. He could have a new home by now if only he wouldn't be so disgusting. The last customer was really scary, and cruel and even she didn't want such an awful Pet. He tried not to cry. Crying wasn't cute and he had to look cute even if it was pointless.

Then he heard quick angry footsteps. The blue-haired lady was back. What did it mean?

"I'M TAKING HIM!" She shouted. She had fire in her eyes. It took all of Pet's strength not to move away to the back of the cage.

She will buy him, and she was angry, maybe because the pet was scared of her, or maybe her Friend failed to control her impulse, or maybe it was something different, but the Pet will pay for that.

He was scared, but he will take all the pain if she would want him, please he wants to be wanted, even if it doesn't matter what he wants, take him away, he will be good...

Master rushed and took Lady to the back, where the documents were signed. Pet glued eyes to the doors. She still can change her mind when she will look deeper and realise how bad and ill-trained animal he is.

Or maybe she would like to have a broken animal to train up to herself? Was it about it?

__________

"Here are all his files. We have to make sure you had read them, especially the last page"

"Sure, give me some time"

"Also if you have any questions, i'm here to help"

"I don't have any..." she said, but then the idea hit her "actually, do you have any more detailed record of his training?"

"We do have records for all our pets, but we can show them only to the owner. We can email them right after purchase. They're quite large"

"Works for me" She said. Maybe the records will say more about his conditioning, and help with recovery. Anyway it won't do harm if she will have them.

Now onto reading stuff she will sign. Make sure the company won’t hide anything in small print.

It took longer than she would like to admit and hopefully she understood all the words just right… There was one page left.

There was something about being "ready to handle" and "responsiblebleble..." and

oh

Employee must have seen that she got to that part.

That part... changed the light she looked at the boy.

And she hesitated for a moment.

“May… may i know the circumstances of an incident?” she asked

__________

Master- no, the former Master now opened a cage and threw him on the ground. Pet felt his shoulder hit the hard floor and he holded cry in .

"Looks like you got purchased after all. Unbelievable. Ayway, how long do you think it will take for you to mess up and get returned?" former Master said. Pet was stupid, yes, and he had trouble learning rules but he knew that he can't break them now, and he wasn't allowed to speak

"Answer me you dumb Pet"

now that was an order

"A- a month maybe?"

"Ha! you aim high. I doubt you will be able to last two weeks"

Pet didn't want to go back at all, but if the former Master says he won't be able to enjoy new home for longer than two weeks then it was true. He had to bear Mutt for so long!

He took off one collar and put on another. It was so soft, softer than a pet ever had. Finally he grabbed him by the shoulder he felt on and took to the new owner.

"See you soon," former Master whispered to Pet.

And there she was. New owner. The scary Lady. Pet trembled.She didn’t clipped a leash or grab him by hair, instead she put her arm around him. Didn't she want him to have even this piece of freedom? Or was she afraid he would try to run away? He won't, he will be good and Pet hoped he would be allowed to speak to tell he will be good. But he wasn't allowed so he just quietly walked by her side. He couldn't crawl with her holding him, will he be punished for walking on legs like a human?

They walked outside. The sun was so nice, and the air was fresh. But he knew it was not to enjoy, he wasn't allowed to enjoy those things.

"We will have to wait here for a while. My friend - the one I mentioned before - will give us a ride. Anyway, what's your name?"

Was he tested already? He knew how to follow rules, he could follow them...

Owner looked at him in scary silence

"Oh. I forgot. You can speak. I wouldn't ask if i didn't expected any answer"

Oh no. Oh no no, they didn't even get home, and he disappointed Owner already.

"I don't have any name, Mast- Mistress"

“Hmm well then how did the.. shop employees call you then?”

“Disgusting, Mutt, Dirty…”

"That won’t work. We have to give you a real name. And you can call me by mine. I'm Decima. 'Mistress' sounds like some annoying character from a historical drama. But if you feel uncomfortable without honorifics then you can title me 'Miss'. But I prefer to be referred to by name, okay?"

"Yes, Miss Decima"

[astrognossienne]

tragic beauty: lupe vélez - an analysis

“I had to play with boys, girls found me too rough.” -  Lupe Vélez  

This is an analysis I’ve wanted to cover for a while for quite a few reasons. Primarily because, in a few ways, I see myself in her and, as such, feel the need to defend her and assert her true legacy: as a pioneer. Which brings me to the main reason I wanted to do this: to correct the scurrilous rumours about her premature death cooked up by a hating ass imbecilic Aquarius whose infamous book doesn’t deserve to be named. So if you want to hear the truth about this lady, read on.

Known as the “Mexican Spitfire”, Latin bombshell Lupe Vélez was (an to an extent, still is) a much-maligned and terribly misunderstood woman. A true Cancer, she was a force of nature and unconsciously antagonized others and made them uncomfortable because of her authenticity to herself and her emotional nature. Born during a storm, she had a naturally stormy personality. She could be hilarious and charismatic one moment, and depressive and vicious the next. Instead of anyone trying to understand her, they just stuck her with the “spicy fiery Latina” stereotype, not knowing or caring what was behind it. The harshness of her life before stardom may explain some of her fearsome, yet fun, personality; she grew up with violent trauma – watching her father kill and almost be killed during the Mexican Revolution. She also is believed to have had undiagnosed bipolar disorder, which would explain her extreme moodiness and outbursts.

One of the first Latina actresses to make an impact in Hollywood, she was subjected to the racist, sexist Hollywood tropes that forever typecasted her—she was called “senorita cyclone,” and the “hot tamale”. The Hollywood press willfully misunderstood Vélez’s sex positivity and consistently portrayed her as a woman who took great pleasure in her body, and indeed, the tempestuous Vélez had numerous affairs, including a particularly torrid one with a young Gary Cooper, and a tumultuous marriage to “Tarzan” star Johnny Weissmuller. But in 1944, at age 36, she found herself pregnant with the child of a little known-actor name Harald Ramond, who would not marry her and this reality made her come undone, and like my other baby Carole Landis, she succumbed to an drug overdose. Her promiscuity, right or wrong, became part of the way her stardom was packaged and promoted. Also, the press naturally compared her to (and pitted her against) Hollywood’s only other female Mexican star—the “high-class” and elegant Dolores Del Rio. The press couldn’t even find sympathy for her even in death and a false story was printed that she drowned in the toilet after vomiting up a spicy Mexican dinner. Her death is parodied and mocked to this day. Again, she’s a true Cancer in the sense that the same imperfections that everyone else has, she is seen as less than human for having them. I hope to help right that wrong by honoring Vélez for being the trailblazer that she is. At any rate, Vélez would seem to be a prototype for contemporary female stars, from Madonna to Rihanna, who have proclaimed their pleasure in their body and their sexual liberation — a pro-sex activist before her time, doomed to suffer the rejection of a more puritanical age.

Lupe Vélez, according to astrotheme, was a Cancer sun and Leo moon. She was born María Guadalupe Villalobos Vélez in San Luis Potosí, Mexico, to young upper-middle class parents. Her father, Jacobo Villalobos Reyes, was a colonel in the military, and her mother, Josefina Vélez, was an opera singer. They also had another son, John and daughter, Annette. The Villalobos family were considered prominent in San Luis Potosí and most of the male family members were college educated. The family was also financially comfortable and lived in a large home with servants. As a young girl Lupe showed an interest in performing, but her father was outraged at his daughter’s “low-class” dreams, and forbade his daughter from being in show business. All that changed during the war. Her family was in a state of upheaval—the Mexican Revolution was happening, her father had been presumed dead in the war and all their money was gone. While most of her family members were too proud to get jobs, a teenage Vélez did just that, supporting the family by working as a saleswoman in a department store. She then finagled an audition with a local theater. However, her father was indded alive and well and soon returned home from the war. Because at that time becoming an artist and coming from a well-to-do family was seen as embarrassing, her father refused to let her use his last name in theater, so she used her mother’s surname.

She proceeded to seek out venues where she could dance the then-popular “shimmy.” In 1925 she was cast in the big stage revues Mexican Rataplan and !No lo tapes! and became a big audience favourite. Her name got around to American stage star Richard Bennett (father of American film stars Constance and Joan Bennett), who was looking for a Mexican cantina singer for his new play. Lupe traveled to Hollywood but was rejected for the part for being too young. While in Hollywood, Lupe met film and stage comedienne Fanny Brice, who took a liking to Lupe because of her sparkling personality. She put in a good word for Lupe to impresario Florenz Ziegfeld (creator of the Ziegfeld’s Follies), who could use Lupe in one of his Broadway musicals. However, MGM producer Harry Rapf heard of Lupe as well, and offered her a screen test. When producer Hal Roach saw the test, he immediately signed her to a contract. Vélez soon made her major film debut in Douglas Fairbanks’ action-romance The Gaucho in 1927. The film was a huge hit and Vélez was an overnight sensation.

Along with her professional life gaining steam, so did her love life. Vélez sought out some of Hollywood’s hottest men, which wasn’t hard for a hot and sexy number like Lupe; men flocked to her like bees to honey. She was romantically linked with Gary Cooper, Charlie Chaplin, Clark Gable, cowboy Tom Mix, “Tarzan” actor Johnny Weissmuller, Errol Flynn, John Gilbert, Henry Wilcoxon, singer Russ Columbo, Randolph Scott, author Erich Maria Remarque (who wrote All Quiet On The Western Front and later married Paulette Goddard), Clayton “Lone Ranger” Moore, director Victor Fleming (director of Gone With The Wind), and boxers Jack Johnson and Jack Dempsey.

One of her first conquests was cowboy star Tom Mix. She also had an with newcomer Clark Gable, who cut off their romance because he was afraid Lupe would run all over town discussing their sexual secrets, which she did. Soon she had a torrid affair with comic genius Charlie Chaplin in 1928. Lupe revitalized Chaplin’s libido after he had gone through a torturous divorce from his wife. Whatever time she had for the many men in her life, that same appreciation didn’t extend to other women and she would frequently battle with the other females with whom she had to work with and would often threaten them; when she was starring in director D.W. Griffith’s Lady of the Pavements, she had to co-star with an actress named Jedda Goudall, whom she hated, and the two had a ferocious cat-fight on the set. When she made her final appearance on Broadway in the Cole Porter musical “You Never Know”, Vélez and fellow cast member Libby Holman feuded viciously. The feud came to a head during a performance where Vélez punched Holman in between curtain calls and gave her a black eye, which pretty much ended the run of the show. Vélez was territorial about the men in her life, she was vicious toward any woman who might be competition for her man or an acting role. She mocked Marlene Dietrich, Greta Garbo, Katharine Hepburn and Shirley Temple, and her arch nemesis Dolores Del Dio by doing imitations of them.

When she was cast in the film The Wolf Song in 1929, she met Gary Cooper and immediately started what would be her first widely publicized romance. Theirs was a one-sidedly volatile relationship; he would often appear in public with scratches and bruises. One time, she attacked him with a knife during a fight. He needed stitches. By the end of their time as a couple, Copper had lost 45 pounds and was physically exhausted.  He was ordered by the studio to take a vacation. As he boarded a train, Vélez shot at Cooper but missed. Lupe soon moved on to other men; she had a thing for fighters. In addition to having a brief fling with boxer Jack Dempsey, she conducted a flagrant, but secret, affair with the black boxer Jack Johnson. In those days, blacks and whites almost never conducted sexual affairs out in the open. She met Olympic swimming champion Johnny Weissmuller at the hotel where she was staying that was owned by film star Marion Davies. One problem: Weissmuller was already married. But no matter, he dumped his wife for Lupe and married her October 8, 1933 in Las Vegas. Theirs was not a happy, serene marriage, and they constantly battled, with Lupe filing for divorce several times in 1934 and changing her mind each time. Weissmuller’s patience was so strained he dumped a plate of salad on her head at Ciro’s nightclub. Finally, in 1938 she filed a petition that was finalized in 1939.

After having many hit pictures with MGM, they unceremoniously dropped her. The excuse was that the studios were no longer going to make Spanish versions of their films and there was no longer a need for Latin actresses. Vélez returned to Mexico in 1938 to star in her first Spanish-language film. Arriving in Mexico City, she was greeted by 10,000 fans. The film La Zandunga, was a critical and financial success and Vélez was slated to appear in four more Mexican films, but instead, she returned to Los Angeles. She soon went to RKO Studios and starred in the B-movie The Girl From Mexico. Despite its lowly status, the picture became a tremendous hit with audiences. RKO rushed her into another film, this time called Mexican Spitfire, playing an emotionally volatile singer named Carmelita. The 1940 film became another smash for Lupe. The Spitfire series of eight slapstick comedy films rejuvenated Lupe’s sagging career.  In late 1941, she had an affair with writer Erich Maria Remarque whose wife, actress Luise Rainer later wrote that Remarque told her “with the greatest of glee” that he found Vélez’s volatility hot.

At this same time Lupe took on another lover in the form of a French 27-year-old bit actor named Harald Ramond. He was a strong and controlling man who knew how to tame Lupe. After she discovered that she was three months pregnant, she announced her engagement to Ramond without his knowledge or consent. When he learned of her pregnancy, he refused to marry her. Deeply hurt and stunned, she felt backed into a corner; she knew her career would be ruined in Hollywood if word got out she was pregnant and unmarried. It just wasn’t done in those days. And despite her wildness, Lupe was a devout Catholic, so abortion was out of the question. She could see only one way out: suicide. On December 18, 1944, at the age of 36, Vélez swallowed 70 Seconal pills, she lay down on her pink satin pillow on her over-sized Hollywood bed and arranged herself like a movie star, with her hands folded across her chest and went into an eternal sleep. Dramatic to the end, Lupe went out of this world in glamorous style. She left a suicide note addressed to Harald, which read:

“To Harald, May God forgive you and forgive me too, but I prefer to take my life away and our baby’s before I bring him with shame or killing him. How could you, Harald, fake such a great love for me and our baby when all the time you didn’t want us?  I see no other way out for me so goodbye and good luck to you, Love Lupe.”

THAT is the truth. But the bottom line is: how she lived her life as well as the circumstances around her death are all irrelevant at the end of the day. What matters is the loss of a great multi-talented, pioneering Mexican star and a legacy unrealized and stunted by a world that wasn’t ready for her.

Next, I’ll talk about the most famous of her paramours, the yin to her yang, a perfect example of the special chemistry that Taureans and Cancers share, the strong, silent hero of the silver screen: Taurus Gary Cooper.

Stats

birthdate: July 18, 1908

major planets:

Sun: Cancer

Moon: Leo

Rising: Gemini

Mercury: Cancer

Venus: Leo

Mars: Pisces

Midheaven: Pisces

Jupiter: Virgo

Saturn: Aries

Uranus: Capricorn

Neptune: Cancer

Pluto: Gemini

Overall personality snapshot: She may have seemed at times to be a shy, vulnerable, romantic individual who only wanted to please, but underneath she had a voracious appetite for adoration and respect, and would not stop until she got it. Without a doubt, she had a very warm feeling for others, and domestic security with plenty of happy togetherness is high on her list of priorities. When it came to cooperation with others, however, she had her limits because she was profoundly individualistic and, albeit in a charming manner, she insisted on doing things her way. Ultimately the most important thing for her was believing in herself and being true to her standards and aspirations. Most of all, she needed to fulfill her creative potential, which was like an intimate companion with whom she shared her life. You nurture it, protect it, and then you show it off, and whatever walk of life you are in, you tend to be a fine performer.

This gave her a lot of self-respect and a touch of vanity as well, and her emotional sensitivity combined with her underlying imperiousness tended to impress others and made them take her seriously. She was a devoted member of her flock, and she zealously and jealously protected and promoted whomever she was devoted to. When it came to developing her own talents, however, she seemed to know that she had to pull away in order to grow into her greatest self. Others may have thought she was a bit of a show-off but that was not the case: she simply had a deep sense of the importance of her own creative talents, and she felt only half alive if she did not honour them. Although she was pretty sensitive to criticism or rebuffs, she was just as committed to honesty and personal integrity; and despite her vanity, she eventually learned to laugh at herself.

She had a very good memory and found it easy to learn subjects that interested her. She was very kind and thoughtful towards others. Her imagination was very keen, but if it got carried away, she may have experienced irrational fears. Even though she may have tried to maintain a scientific and objective outlook, her mind was actually dominated by her emotions. When it came to careers, she may have felt initially vague or confused about what she really wanted to do. She was eventually forced to give up her career of choice by events out of her control (as was evidenced by the tides turning from the “Mexican spitfire” female ideal due to the changing of the times). There was probably some element of self-sacrifice involved somewhere in her choice of career (the element of sacrifice being that she had to sacrifice her child, and ultimately her life, in relation to her reputation as an unwed mother as well as her unborn child’s reputation as an illegitimate child). She had good technical and scientific ability due to her, at times almost fanatical, attention to detail. She was also fastidious when it came to matters of health, diet and appearance. She was not afraid of work and was very resourceful and capable. She also worked well in a team. She became very annoyed if somebody else questioned the way that she operated. Her energy levels were somewhat inhibited, her self-confidence reduced, and her ambitions restricted through fear of failure. Times of strength and weakness alternated within her. Even though her decision-making ability could be ineffectual through over-caution, she often seemed to be placed in situations where a quick decision was needed. When she succeeded, it was mainly through her own efforts. She also showed a tendency towards wanting to start at the top, wanting to avoid the hard work that gets you there.

She belonged to a generation with a rational and logical attitude to life. There was a conflict between tradition and convention, and the experimental and unconventional. As an individual, she had to learn to strike a balance between the erratic and the conventional. As a member of this generation, she had the ability to come up with original ideas which could be of practical value. She was part of a very artistically talented and creative generation that wanted to escape from the demands of the world around them into a world of excitement and glamour. She was part of an emotionally sensitive generation that was extremely conscious of the domestic environment and the atmosphere surrounding her home place and home country. In fact, she could be quite nostalgic about her homeland, religion and traditions, often seeing them in a romantic light. She felt a degree of escapism from everyday reality, and was very sensitive to the moods of those around her. Bow embodied all of these Cancer Neptunian ideals. As a Gemini Plutonian, she was mentally restless and willing to examine and change old doctrines, ideas and ways of thinking. As a member of this generation, she showed an enormous amount of mental vitality, originality and perception. Traditional customs and taboos were examined and rejected for newer and more original ways of doing things. As opportunities with education expanded, she questioned more and learned more. As a member of this generation, having more than one occupation at a time would not have been unusual to her.

Love/sex life: It wasn’t easy to be passionate and emotionally explosive and also hold on to her dignity, but this was what she wanted to accomplish. She tried to conceal the pulsating softness of her sexual nature behind a façade of control and bluster. She thought that her display of strength and jolly self-confidence would hide her vulnerability and her susceptibility to virtually any sexual diversion. Of course, no one was really buying this cover up. They saw the luscious edges of her erotic hunger peeking through her disguise. That’s why they were all so anxious to be around her. The biggest problem in her sex life was how to deal with change. She loved it and she hated it. She loved following the lead of her feelings and surrendering herself to the moment. Too much consistency, even loving consistency, was apt to leave her bored and dissatisfied. But she also saw change as a threat to her sense of control and to the emotional security that she valued so highly. Because of this duality in her thinking, her reaction to changes in her sex life was abrupt, contradictory, and (horror of horrors) a little undignified.

minor asteroids and points:

North Node: Gemini

Lilith: Libra

Vertex: Scorpio

Fortune: Gemini

East Point: Gemini

Her North Node in Gemini dictated that she needed to prevent her idealism from influencing her thoughts to such a high degree. She needed to consciously develop a more clear-minded and analytical approach involving her thought processes. Her Lilith in Libra was definitely working overtime here. Relationships somehow caused her to err, and her partner choices caused much suffering.   She expressed herself through others. As a lover, she was aggressive, yet co-dependent. As a mistress, she was not above trying to cause a divorce, which she did with Johnny Weissmuller and she ultimately became fatally despondent when she found herself pregnant with a bit actor's baby. She used her good looks as a weapon to help her get ahead in the movie industry. Also, Lilith in Libra strangely enough, manifested itself as a sort of lighter female Capricorn archetype, and she pulled herself up by the bootstraps in a rather glamorous way, going to work after her father left the family unit. As such, she exhibited graceful gumption right until the very end. Her Vertex in Scorpio, 5th house dictated that she had a desire or continual need for feeling irresistible and irreplaceable on all levels of intimacy, whether spiritual, intellectual, emotional, or physical. From the fires of hell to the heights of heaven, the  further and deeper the range of interaction she could experience with another the more fulfilling. She had a childlike orientation, in all of its manifestations, toward relationships on an internal level. That implicit trust, or perhaps naivete, that was instilled in our  childhood persisted far into maturity. The concomitant explosions and  occasional tantrums when these constructs are violated also accompany  this position. She had a need for fun, creativity, and excitement in a  committed relationship, no matter how many years it has endured. She often had deep fears, typical of children, of abandonment, as well as a need for universal acceptance, no matter how she acted, which she needed her partner to respect and nurture, rather than rebuke, especially in adulthood. Her Part of Fortune in Gemini and Part of Spirit in Sagittarius dictated that her destiny lay in travel, education and communication. She was able to overcome enemies by her words and by her writing. Happiness and fulfillment came from being able to express herself fully. Her soul’s purpose lay in seeking truth, justice and fairness. She felt spiritual connections and saw the spark of the divine when she studied, broadened her mind through new philosophies, or looked for inspiration outside the home. East Point in Gemini dictated that she was often insatiably curious and loved to collect little bits of (what seemed to be useless) information and trivia. Her interests were quite varied, and she may have been somewhat scattered. Sometimes her curiosity could appear cold and callous as her level of objectivity was potentially high. There was usually an openness to learning in any situation.      

elemental dominance:

water

fire

She had high sensitivity and elevation through feelings. Her heart and  her emotions were her driving forces, and she couldn’t do anything on earth if she didn’t feel a strong effective charge. She  needed to love in order to understand, and to feel in order to take action, which caused a certain vulnerability which she should (and often did) fight against. She was dynamic and passionate, with strong leadership ability. She generated enormous warmth and vibrancy. She was exciting to be around, because she was genuinely enthusiastic and usually friendly. However, she could either be harnessed into helpful energy or flame up and cause destruction. Ultimately, she chose the latter. Confident and opinionated, she was fond of declarative statements such as “I will do  this” or “It’s this way.” When out of control—usually because she was  bored, or hadn’t been acknowledged—she was bossy, demanding, and even tyrannical. But at her best, her confidence and vision inspired others  to conquer new territory in the world, in society, and in themselves.    

modality dominance:

mutable

She wasn’t particularly interested in spearheading new ventures or dealing with the day-to-day challenges of organization and management. She excelled at performing tasks and producing outcomes. She was flexible and liked to finish things. Was also likely undependable, lacking in initiative, and disorganized. Had an itchy restlessness and an unwillingness to buckle down to the task at hand. Probably had a chronic inability to commit—to a job, a relationship, or even to a set of values.                    

house dominants:

2nd

3rd

1st

The material side of life  including money and finances, income and expenditure, and worldly goods was emphasized in her life. Also the areas of innate resources, such as her self-worth, feelings and emotions were paramount in her life. What she considered her personal security and what she desired was also paramount. Short journeys, traveling within her own country were themes  throughout her life; her immediate environment, and relationships with her siblings, neighbours and friends were of importance. The way her mental processes operated, as well as the manner and style in which she communicated was emphasized in her life. As such, much was revealed about her schooling and childhood and adolescence. Her personality, disposition and temperament is highlighted in her life. The manner in which she expressed herself and the way she approached other people is also highlighted. The way she approached new situations and circumstances contributed to show how she set about her life’s goals. The general state of her health is also shown, as well as her early childhood experiences defining the rest of her life.  

planet dominants:

Neptune

Mercury

Sun

She was of a contemplative nature, particularly receptive to ambiances, places, and people. She gladly cultivated the art of letting go, and allowed the natural unfolding of events to construct her world. She followed her inspirations, for better or for worse. She was intellectual, mentally quick, and had excellent verbal acuity. She dealt in terms of logic and reasoning. It was likely that she was left-brained. She was restless, craved movement, newness, and the bright hope of undiscovered terrains. She had vitality and creativity, as well as a strong ego and was authoritarian and powerful. She likely had strong leadership qualities, she definitely knew who she was, and she had tremendous will. She met challenges and believed in expanding her life.

sign dominants:

Cancer

Gemini

Leo

At first meeting, she seemed enigmatic, elusive. She needed roots, a place or even a state of mind that she could call  her own. She needed a safe harbor, a refuge in which to retreat for solitude. She was generally gentle and kind, unless she was hurt. Then she could become vindictive and sharp-spoken. She was affectionate, passionate, and even possessive at times. She was intuitive and was  perhaps even psychic. Experience flowed through her emotionally. She was often moody and always changeable; her interests and social circles shifted constantly. She was emotion distilled into its purest form. She ventured out to see what else was there and seized upon new ideas that expanded her community. Her innate curiosity kept her on the move. She used her rational, intellectual mind to explore and understand her personal world. She needed to answer the single burning question in her mind: why? This applied to most facets of her life, from the personal to the impersonal. This need to know sent her off to foreign countries, where her need to explore other cultures and traditions ranked high. She was changeable and often moody. This meant that she was often at odds with herself—the mind demanding one thing, the heart demanding the opposite. To someone else, this internal conflict often manifested as two very different people. She loved being the center of attention and often surrounded herself with admirers. She had an innate dramatic sense, and life was definitely her stage. Her flamboyance and personal magnetism extended to every facet of her life. She wanted to succeed and make an impact in every situation. She was, at her best, optimistic, honorable, loyal, and ambitious.      

Read more about her under the cut.

Lupe Velez was born on July 18, 1908, in San Luis Potosi, Mexico, as Maria Guadalupe Villalobos Velez. She was sent to Texas at the age of 13 to live in a convent. She later admitted that she wasn't much of a student because she was so rambunctious. She had planned to become a champion roller skater, but that would change. Life was hard for her family, and Lupe returned to Mexico to help them out financially. She worked as a salesgirl for a department store for the princely sum of $4 a week. Every week she would turn most of her salary over to her mother, but she kept a little for herself so she could take dancing lessons. With her mature shape and grand personality, she thought she could make a try at show business, which she figured was a lot more glamorous than dancing or working as a salesclerk. In 1924 Lupe started her show business career on the Mexican stage and wowed audiences with her natural beauty and talent. By 1927 she had emigrated to Hollywood, where she was discovered by Hal Roach, who cast her in a comedy with Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy. Douglas Fairbanks then cast her in his feature film The Gaucho (1927) with himself and wife Mary Pickford. Lupe played dramatic roles for five years before she switched to comedy. In 1933 she played the lead role of Pepper in Hot Pepper (1933). This film showcased her comedic talents and helped her to show the world her vital personality. She was delightful. In 1934 Lupe appeared in three fine comedies: Strictly Dynamite (1934), Palooka (1934) and Laughing Boy (1934). By now her popularity was such that a series of "Mexican Spitfire" films were written around her. She portrayed Carmelita Lindsay in Mexican Spitfire (1940), Mexican Spitfire Out West (1940), The Mexican Spitfire's Baby (1941) and Mexican Spitfire's Blessed Event (1943), among others. Audiences loved her in these madcap adventures, but it seemed at times that she was better known for her stormy love affairs. She married one of her lovers, Johnny Weissmuller, but the marriage only lasted five years and was filled with battles. Lupe certainly did live up to her nickname. She had a failed romance with Gary Cooper, who never wanted to wed her. By 1943 her career was waning. She went to Mexico in the hopes of jump-starting her career. She gained her best reviews yet in the Mexican version of Naná (1944). Bolstered by the success of that movie, Lupe returned to the US, where she starred in her final film as Pepita Zorita, Ladies' Day (1943). There were to be no others. On December 13, 1944, tired of yet another failed romance, with a part-time actor named Harald Maresch, and pregnant with his child, Lupe committed suicide with an overdose of Seconal. She was only 36 years old. (x)

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Beneath the Surface: A Retelling of “The Frog Prince”

If I’d had any choice, I never would have taken the underground train. I had accompanied Roger to a political summit in the city of Roshen, but spouses leave after the opening speeches, and since I couldn’t leave Roger without the hovercar, I had to use public transportation. The train--built by the natives decades before humanity absorbed Arateph into the Interplanetary Coalition--was a horrible excuse for technology. It rattled me to my destination, jolted me into an underground station, and left me so shaken that I could feel my bones clattering as I climbed up the stairs to the street.

The crowd surged around me as I emerged onto the sidewalk. There were far too many tephans. You know what Arateph’s natives look like—almost like humans, but it’s an unsettling almost. Their eyes just slightly too high on their heads, their ears just slightly too far back, and hands (ugh) split into only three fingers and a thumb. Like a person shaped by a sculptor with a hazy memory of how humans look. I can take them in small doses, but in groups? My skin was crawling. I powered through the crowd as quickly as possible and tried not to let any of them touch me.

I sped several blocks away from the train station before I realized I was nowhere near my hotel. The buildings in this neighborhood were old, made of crumbling stone bricks that had been stacked by physical labor rather than printed by machine. Half the windows were made of colored glass, and half of those were broken. Garbage rustled in the gutters, holes marred the concrete sidewalks, and all the signs were written in an unfamiliar alphabet. I was, somehow, lost in a tephan neighborhood. And not a nice one.  

I turned in circles, trying to figure out which way I’d come. Tephans watched me from storefronts and doorsteps and alleyways, and I kept walking to prevent them from figuring out just how lost I was. I was Priscilla Overton, wife of a Coalition finance minister, pillar of this planet’s elite—and human. Some groups violently opposed human rule, and tephan attacks against humans were on the rise. Who knew what these savages would do if they knew how helpless I was?

I rushed through narrow, dark streets until I reached a wider thoroughfare--a residential area with slightly less grimy apartment buildings. Still not a nice neighborhood, but not a place where I suspected otherworldly rats would tear the flesh from my bones or criminals would murder me for my technology.

I pulled my datapad out of my purse to look for directions. Dead.

I unfolded my wristcomm and tried to call for help. No signal.

I put my fist to my mouth to stifle a frustrated scream. Why did these things happen to me?

I stormed further down the street, cursing Roger for ever bringing us to this planet. We’d been happy on Earth. Comfortable. Respected. With no chance of wandering into streets where aliens stared at you with their off-kilter eyes. The rewards we got for helping to civilize this backward planet weren’t nearly enough to make up for this torture.

I turned a corner and found myself in front of a long, low yellow-brick building with dozens of small windows. The window boxes had flowers in them—fist-sized bundles of tiny red and gold petals. Not something you’d find on Earth, but...nice. Nice enough to pull me down from my fury and make me think I could give my wristcomm another try.

I powered down the wristcomm and stood next to a pink metal lamp post (Arateph has strange color trends) while I waited for it to restart. A metal grate was below my feet. These primitives still used storm drains! I shouldn’t have been surprised, since the road clearly wasn’t made of Draincrete, but it was still jarring. Living on Arateph was a strange combination of living on another world and living in the backward past.

My wristcomm buzzed, still powering up. I was ready to explode with anxiety. There were tephans straggling by—not many of them, but too many and too poorly dressed for my taste. To calm myself, I played with my wedding ring—a gold band with a spray of amethysts and pearls. The ring had been in Roger’s family for centuries. Some days, it felt like my last tie to a familiar world.

I kept my life on Arateph as Earth-like as possible, but it could never be the same as living on Earth. Alien things always lingered at the edges. Trees that turned purple in autumn instead of familiar orange. Toothy red-and-purple-feathered birds that rooted through the trash and woke me with their awful screeching. And around every corner, people who looked like grotesque parodies of my own kind. An entire world conspiring to make me constantly aware of how far I was from home.

My sisters were going about their own lives on Earth, and the few times we could afford appointments at synced comms stations, we found little to talk about--we literally came from different worlds. If Roger and I ever had children--doubtful but possible at our age--our families would only know them as data-images.

This was why I hated being alone on this wretched planet. Gave me far too much time to think about these things.

My wristcomm chimed—finally awake. I unfolded the screen and attempted to bring up my list of contact codes. I found Roger’s; he’d be in the middle of a meeting, but I couldn’t help that. I pressed the code and waited.

A discordant note sounded. No signal. I threw down my hand in frustration. My ring flew down with it. The golden band slipped off my finger, tumbled toward the ground, bounced off the edges of the grate, and fell into the drain.

I gasped in horror and fell to my knees. It couldn’t be, not now.

The ring sparkled in the sunlight, caught on a lip where the structure of the drain met the tube of the deeper pipe. I put my purse on the ground and slid my arm through the grate, but my arm got stuck just above the elbow. The ring was still a foot beyond my reach.

I burst into tears. I couldn’t help it. After the day I’d had—lost among tephans, fighting faulty technology, no hope of help from people who looked like me—this was the last straw. This planet had taken me from my home, my family, my friends, everything familiar, and now it was taking my one reminder of it all. Anybody would have cried.

Long before I felt any relief, a harsh voice broke through my sobs. “Are you finished yet?”

I looked up, furious at whoever was rude enough to interrupt my misery.

A tephan girl sat in the stairwell of the long yellow-brick building next to the gutter. I yelped and reeled back, tears still flowing. Have you ever seen a tephan child? They’re ten times worse than the adults; all their slightly-wrong features stretched even further out of shape, their eyes big and bulging in their heads. This girl was gangly. Her skinny limbs dangled out of baggy green clothes, and a wild brown bush of curls frizzed around her face and over her eyes. By human standards, I’d have judged her to be about twelve years old (though I have no idea if these creatures age like humans). By any race’s standards, she looked positively feral.

I couldn’t believe the creature had spoken to me. “Did you say something?” I asked.

She held up a thick book, bound human-style but with blocky tephan letters on the cover. “Can you cry somewhere else? I’m trying to read.”

She spoke Anglese with only a lightly slurring tephan accent. Somehow, this child spoke the Coalition’s language better than most of the tephan diplomats at Roger’s interminable meetings.

In my shock, I blurted, “How do you know Anglese?”

The creature rolled her eyes. “I go to school. With humans and everything.”

Roger hadn’t been in favor of the integration policy, but it apparently had some benefits. Or would have, had I any interest in talking to the child. Before I could decide if I wanted to reply, I glimpsed the ring again and burst into another involuntary round of tears.

The girl closed her book with a sigh. “What are you crying about anyway?”

I couldn’t tell her that I was crying because of her terrible, technologically backward planet and all its inhabitants, but I had to talk to someone and it was so good to hear human words, even from an alien’s throat. I pointed to the drain. “My ring,” I gasped. “It fell...”

She picked up her book, scrambled down the stairs, and peered in the drain. She huffed and rolled her eyes. “You’re making that much noise over that?”

I drew back my shoulders and snapped, “It’s an irreplaceable heirloom! Centuries of human history! You can’t get those stones anywhere but Earth!”

“Then you should have been more careful with it.”

That made me want to scream, but before I could gather enough breath, the child gathered the book to her chest and turned away. “Can you at least try to keep it down?”

As the girl sat on the building’s stone stairs, the wind tore a scrap of paper out of her book and sent it fluttering. She reached up and snatched it out of the air. My gaze fell on the girl’s arms—long, lanky things that were thinner than human arms. With four-fingered hands that could easily slip between the bars of the grate.

“Wait!” I shouted. “Little tephan girl! What’s your name?”

The girl cast me a dark, distrustful expression, but she finally intoned, “Tanza.”

Not bad, as far as tephan names went. I could pronounce this one. “Tanza,” I said, “Do you think you could reach it?”

The girl shifted her hand behind her back, her face becoming a hard mask. “What do you mean?”

I pointed to her, rambling in my excitement. “Your arms are thinner than mine. Just as long. You could probably reach...”

Her brow furrowed.  “You want me to dig in a sewer?”

“Not a sewer,” I said. “A storm drain.”

“Still dirty.” She looked at the storm drain with narrowed eyes.“If I get it for you, will you go away?”

I wanted nothing more. “Immediately.”

"What'll you pay me for it?"

I felt like I'd been hit by a train. "What? Who said I'd pay you?"

The child pointed one long finger at the storm drain. “If I get dirty digging in there, it’ll be my tenth laundry demerit and I don’t get supper. I’m not doing it for nothing!”

The building behind her held one of the few signs I’d seen with Anglese translations beneath the tephan words: Alogath Charity Home for Unwanted Children. I could see why this child was unwanted.

“I don’t carry cash,” I told her.

“Do you have a credit stick?”

I put a protective arm over my purse. “It’ll be deactivated the moment you touch it.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t need the whole stick. Just buy me something with it.”

A truck—a noisy, clanking tephan thing that actually rolled on the ground—roared past us. The glimmer on the ring shifted closer to the drain pipe. If I didn’t act fast…

“What do you want?” I asked her.

“A lot of things.” Her eyes went blank as she stared at imaginings only she could see. Finally, she declared, “A meal at the High Palace.”

She really said that! As if it were a reasonable request! I don’t know how this urchin even knew about human restaurants, much less the finest of fine dining establishments.

“That’s ridiculous!”

She shrugged one shoulder. “I lose a meal, you buy me a replacement. That’s fair.”

“Do you know how much a High Palace meal costs?”

“A lot less than it’ll cost you to replace that ring.”

I growled in frustration. The child had me backed into a corner and she knew it. I shuddered at the thought of taking this…thing into the sparkling society of a High Palace dining room.

I pointed a fierce finger at the child. “Only if you give me the ring immediately. Understand? There’s not a place on the planet a creature like you could sell it without suspicion.”

“I don’t want your ring. I’ll live up to my end of the bargain. And you’ll live up to yours, or that ring’s staying where it is.”

Of course I couldn’t really take her to the High Palace, but one more street-rattling truck could take the ring forever out of anyone’s reach. I’d have agreed if she’d asked for a hovercar.

“Fine!” I shouted. “I’ll buy you the meal. Just save my ring!”

The child placed her book on a clean patch of sidewalk and returned to the edge of the street. I snatched up my purse and stepped aside while the girl laid face down in the gutter. She slid her arm through the grate, all the way up to the shoulder. I held my breath for an eternal moment and didn’t release it until the girl emerged with a ring of gold and amethyst in her hands.

The ring sparkled merrily at me, grimy but whole. I snatched it from Tanza's hands and tucked it into an inner pocket of my gray blazer. I wouldn’t wear it again without resizing it—and not until I was in a neighborhood where I didn’t have to worry about it being stolen from my finger.

The child picked up her book and looked at me expectantly. Demandingly.

I couldn’t give her what she wanted. She was a complete stranger. I’d made the promise under duress. Not a court in the universe would hold me to it. What right did a tephan child have to make such ridiculous demands of a woman of my stature?

“Thank you,” I said. “You did a very good thing.” Then I sped down the street.

The creature was right at my heels. “The High Palace is the other way.”

I didn’t know if she was telling the truth. It didn’t matter. I walked faster.

She yanked at my arm. “You promised me a meal!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I couldn’t get you into the High Palace.”

“A human lady dressed like you? You could get me in if you wanted to.”

I yanked my arm away from her. “What a pity I don’t want to.”

She gave a feral yowl. I started sprinting—or as near as I could manage in the heels I was wearing. The girl kept pace with me. I was a foot taller than her; why couldn’t I outrun her? Could I lose her in her own streets when I was lost myself?

Just when I thought I’d never be able to escape, I rounded a corner and saw the green-and-silver uniform of a Coalition policeman. My heart soared as I raced toward him. Help, protection, guidance, all only a few steps away. Something wonderfully human in this alien world.

“Officer!” I shouted to his retreating back. “Please, I need help!”

The officer stopped and raised a hand. A four-fingered hand. When he turned around, his face had the skewed proportions of a tephan face.

I nearly screamed. I’d stumbled into a nightmare.

The officer said, with the crisp diction of a tephan overcompensating for an accent, “Have you a problem, morik—madam?”

I’d heard that a few tephans had been admitted into the police forces, but I’d never thought I’d meet one. This tephan was young. Wiry and blond. Almost insignificant-looking if it weren’t for the uniform and the stolen sense of authority. Would he help a human?

Tephan or not, he had an obligation to assist the public. “Officer,” I gasped. “I need directions to the nearest train station. I’m trying to get home and this child is harassing me.”

The girl stormed up to him and shrieked, “She’s a liar!”

She shouted a stream of gibberish, and it wasn’t until the officer responded with similar sounds that I realized they were speaking the tephan language. Flowing, musical vowels were interrupted by harsh consonants, like rocks in a river. The sounds sent chills down my spine that only grew fiercer as the officer’s expression grew darker.

When the girl finished, the officer looked at me, not like an innocent victim needing help, but like a criminal who needed hauling to one of their barbaric tephan jails. “You have wronged this girl.”

I lifted my chin. “She’s lying! I’ve done nothing to her!”

“She claims she rescued your ring in exchange for a meal at the High Palace, and you are attempting to break your word.”

“I owe her nothing!”

“Did you promise her a meal?”

I threw out my hands in frustration. “It’s not like we had a contract or anything!”

He raised an eyebrow. “Your promise means nothing without a legal document?”

“She had no right to hold me to a promise. I was desperate!”

He put a brotherly hand on the girl’s shoulder. “And she was kind enough to help you.”

I scoffed. “For a heavy price.”

The child shouted, “It’s one meal!”

The officer examined my face carefully. “You are Priscilla Overton, are you not? The wife of the finance minister?”

My jaw dropped. I’m prominent enough in human circles, but I’d never dared to consider that my face was known among tephans. It terrified me, but I knew it could be my ticket out of this. “I am, and when my husband finds out about how I’ve been treated—”

“Your husband is not a popular man. Not among tephans.”

I had never cared about Roger's reputation among the tephans. These primitives didn’t know what was best for their planet. But that wasn’t something I could say when I was alone in a strange neighborhood with two of them.

The officer continued, “It will not help his reputation if his wife is known as a promise-breaker.”

I couldn’t believe it. “Are you threatening me?”

He leaned toward me and said in low tones, “I am helping you.” He gestured to the street around us. “Do you think I’m the only one who heard the girl’s story?”

I shuddered to see a handful of tephans staring at us from among the crumbling buildings.

The officer said, “The Coalition doesn’t care much for tephan opinion, but if there is enough outcry against one man, even a human representative can be released from his job.”

At first, the thought lifted my spirits. Sent home! To Earth! It was what I’d wanted from the moment we’d stepped foot on this planet. But sent home in disgrace? Roger would have no future in government after such a public failure. It would mean everything we suffered here would be for nothing.

I asked the officer, “You really think they’d protest? Just because I didn’t bow to a child’s ridiculous demands?”

“If a person can’t keep a promise made to a child, how can anything they say be trusted?” His tephan gaze raked over me, like he was dissecting my inner thoughts. “Your people may have different ideas, but tephans still value virtue.”

How dare he—this puffed-up primitive in a human position of power—accuse humanity of being inferior?

My opinion didn’t matter. These creatures thought it a matter of morality that I feed this ragged brat finer cuisine than their planet had ever produced, and nothing I could say would change their minds. Now it seems ridiculous to think that those tephans could ruin us, but in that moment, alone in those unfamiliar streets, seeing how these two strange aliens teamed up against me, I could believe their kind capable of anything.

I looked down at the child. Her big eyes. Her frizzy curls. Her long limbs clutching the book to her chest. The grimy, bog-green clothes that fell short of the wrists and ankles. The smug smirk of a spoiled child who knew she was about to get her way. I had never loathed anyone more in my life.

“Do you have a name?” I asked her. “I’ll need a full name for the restaurant register.”

“I told you,” she said, as though she’d expected me to remember. “It’s Tanza.”

“What’s the rest of your name?” Most tephans I’d met had at least three or four names and were obnoxiously eager to explain them.

The girl's face darkened like I’d offended her. “Just Tanza.”

The officer looked at her with new pity, and even I understood why. You know how important names are to tephans. One name was a badge of dishonor--forever marking her as a child who’d never been claimed by any family, who’d never been given anything beyond the minimum necessary label. Tanza would have felt the shame of that, and I wasn’t quite so surprised that she’d turned into such an irritating little brat.

But I had no room for pity. “Do you have anything better to wear?”

She tugged at the cuffs, trying to stretch them over her arms. “Just more green. And all in the wash. Laundry demerits."

The officer said, "It'll do." He knelt in front of the girl, then looked at me and held out a hand. "I'll bet a fine lady like you carries all kinds of cleaning tools."

I sighed and handed him the nanocleanser from my purse. I showed him the power button, then he waved the metal wand over the stains on Tanza’s clothes. After a few seconds, the stains evaporated and the dirt from the gutter fell away as dry sand.

“Good as new,” the officer said, while Tanza gaped at her freshly-cleaned clothes. These primitives were astounded by the simplest things.

The child brushed through her wild curls with her fingers, swept them back over her shoulders, then stood with her hands at her side and feet apart, as if presenting herself for inspection.

I sighed. “I guess it’s as good as we’ll get. Let’s get this over with.”

Tanza tucked her book beneath her arm and her eyes sparkled with victory.

I looked balefully at the tome. “The book’s coming with?”

“Well, I can’t leave it here.”

I considered insisting that she take it back to the home, but I wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.

“Fine,” I sighed. “Bring the book.”

I was seriously planning on entering the dining room of the High Palace with an alien who thought the proper attire included a set of green work clothes and a giant book. I had gone insane.

The officer stepped aside and gestured for both of us to walk past him. “I’ll escort you there.”

And there went my last hope of escape.

#

The officer escorted us through winding streets, side alleys and dried up canals until we finally crossed a bridge into a civilized portion of the city with human-designed buildings. One sprawling building of white stone-print bore a black sign with elegant script that proclaimed it The High Palace.

As we approached the building, Tanza suddenly skittered across my path. I almost tripped over her feet.

I glared at her as she fell into step on my right side. “What are you doing?”

She glanced warily to the street corner. “Kids from school.”

I glanced back and saw a pre-teen human boy with short black hair and immaculate clothing. He leaned against the corner of a building while he spoke with a handful of human friends. Well-groomed, friendly, human—why couldn’t that child have rescued my ring? I’d have been glad to take him as a guest to the High Palace.

As I engaged in fruitless wishes, the human children disappeared, and I arrived with my tephan escorts at the entrance doors of the High Palace. Wide glass windows showed a sparkling three-dimensional display of Old Paris in springtime. Tanza studied the images of bakeries and floral shops and fluttering Earth songbirds, as if attempting to dissect the technology. The few people passing by looked askance at the tephan pair with me.

Tanza asked, “Are we going in?”

I looked back at the officer. He just smiled at me and waved us toward the door.

I took a deep breath, put a hand behind the girl’s shoulders and pushed her inside.

The interior was a vision of white and cream: pale artwork on the walls, a glass fountain trickling crystal-clear water, rugs in intricate shades of vanilla, beige and ivory upon white marble floors.

The street sounds disappeared when the door closed behind us. No foot traffic, no rumbling vehicles, no screeching of alien animals. Just the hush of quiet voices, the gentle strings of a European symphony and the trickle of the fountain. It was like we'd stepped into a different world. My world. Except for the alien next to me.

The host standing guard at the dining room entrance stared at Tanza, then looked at me with the horrified compassion of someone trying to tell you there’s a wasp on your shoulder. “Madam, are you aware…?”

The only way to get through this with any dignity was to brazen my way through it. “I’d like a table, please. Two seats. For Priscilla Overton and guest.”

I thought his eyes would pop out of his head. “Your guest? You mean she—?”

“Is my guest. Is that a problem?”

He stared as if incredulous that I didn’t know the problem. I didn’t even blink.

Finally, he put a stylus to his datapad. “Does this guest have a name?”

The girl stood as straight and dignified as I did. “Tanza.”

He poised his stylus over the datapad. “Anythin—”

“Just Tanza.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he set his stylus aside. “Two seats for Priscilla Overton and…Tanza.”

The host led us into a blindingly beautiful dining room. A full wall of windows overlooked a river that glittered in the afternoon sun. The other walls were meshed with holonet that made the room look like a small nook in a formal European garden, with the tables and chairs surrounded by roses, tulips, lilies, and a thousand other flowers whose names I’d forgotten in my years away from Earth. Real potted plants scattered among the tables added to the reality of the image and the string quartet played some of the finest music from Earth's history. The room was a bastion of civilization in this barbaric world. A taste of home. It was more filling than any food could be.

The host led us to windowside tables with an excellent view of the river. My heart lifted. Prime seating—a sign of my place on this planet, which not even a tephan could take away. And it was flanked by two potted gardenia plants that would screen my guest from the handful of other diners.

I took the right-hand seat and motioned for Tanza to take the chair that sat closest to the shrub. Its branches brushed her as she sat down.

The host left us as a waiter handed us our menus. As Tanza sat down, she reached toward the branch above her head, plucked a single white gardenia blossom, shoved it in her mouth, and began to chew.

I froze in terror, then glanced at the waiter. Had he noticed?

If he had, he’d been well trained. He didn’t even stumble in his recitation of the day’s lunch specials.

“Would you like a few minutes to make a selection?” the waiter asked.

“Yes, yes,” I said, waving him away before my guest could decide to take another nibble of the greenery.

He bowed and vanished toward the kitchen.

When he was gone, Tanza spit the flower into a gold-embroidered napkin and wiped her tongue on the far corner. While her mouth contorted in the most disturbing shape, those tephan eyes glared at me. “That’s not a spiceblossom bush.”

“No,” I said, my tone stretched with scorn. “It’s a gardenia. And the blossoms aren’t for eating.”

She wiped her tongue on another corner of the napkin. “Why do they put flowers by the table if you’re not supposed to eat them?”

“For decoration,” I hissed. “And if you can’t behave in a civilized manner, we’ll leave this restaurant, promise or no promise.”

“Well, I’m sorry I don’t know all the fancy human rules of eating.”

Her sarcasm made my blood boil—until I saw her blush. She was prickly, yes, but unless I was very much mistaken, she was embarrassed. Now she was lost in an alien world, and I’d experienced that sensation too recently not to feel a little sorry for her.

But only a little. She had demanded this, after all, at great expense to me. Let her suffer the consequences.

“Rule one,” I said. “Don’t put anything in your mouth unless I tell you to.” I tugged her napkin out of her four-fingered hands before she could run it across her tongue again. “That includes napkins.”

With the napkin gone, Tanza's tongue was on full display in front of her chin as she kept the taste as far out of her mouth as possible. I don’t know if you know this, but tephan tongues can stretch further and thinner than human tongues, and this child made hers come almost to a point. I couldn’t look at that for the entire meal, but I couldn’t have the child destroying all the table linens either.

I waved over a waiter carrying a carafe of water, and I pointed him to our empty glasses. He leaned over our table and filled my glass almost to the brim. Then he turned and saw my guest—her pale skin, green clothes, those big eyes and that long, thin tephan tongue. He yelped, recoiled, dropped the carafe, and knocked over my glass. Water flooded the table and spilled onto my lap.

The child yelped, shouted something in her alien language and scrambled to pull her book out of the path of the water. An old man at the next table dropped his fork and stared at her. Fortunately, the few other diners in the room were too far away to see.

I hushed the child and found myself in the strange position of apologizing to the waiter while I was the one standing drenched. I didn’t know what reznat meant, but I was sure it wasn’t a nice thing for a tephan to say to her waiter.

“Could we...” I asked as I ran the nanocleanser over my clothes, “have another table?”

“C...certainly, madam,” he said, looking at Tanza as if waiting for her to pounce. I half-expected it myself, from the fierce way she curled around that book.

Once my clothes were dry, the waiter brought us to an empty table nearer the center of the room. No window view. No shielding plants. But it was further from the kitchen—where I was certain all the servers would be gossiping about us as soon as this klutz left us.

Once we were settled with new water glasses and dry menus, the server scurried away as if the girl were a poison frog. Tanza muttered alien words while she brushed water from the edges of her book, and gulped water until she got the taste of the flower out of her mouth. Then she glared at me and reverted back to Anglese. “He almost wrecked my book.”

After watching her lug that book around for an hour, my curiosity—and frustration—were mounting. “What’s that book about, anyway? And why are you willing to curse out waiters over it?”

“It’s a biography of Queen Marastel.” She set the book deliberately on the table, and looked around the room as if daring waiters to spill more water on it. “And it’s mine. I finally have a book of my own, and I don’t want it wrecked by an idiot with a water pitcher.”

The book was thick. What I’d seen of the print was small. It was not a children’s history book. I hadn’t expected this grimy alien child to be the biography type. Was there a developmental disorder that gave children irrational attachments to academic texts?

“Who is Queen Marastel?” I asked.

Tanza showed me the book’s cover. It had a picture of a young tephan woman—in her mid-twenties, to my human eyes—with a pale, narrow face, and deep eyes. The woman's dark hair was covered with an elaborate system of veils, and she wore a dress covered in so many white jewels and so much gray and white beadwork that I almost couldn’t see the ivory fabric underneath.

“Her,” Tanza said. “The last queen of Arateph.”

“Arateph had queens?” I asked in surprise. They hadn’t had queens when humanity had found them. It must have been part of their history.

I’d never thought of this planet as having a history. If I’d considered it at all, I suppose I’d assumed that they’d been muddling along the way we’d found them for the last few centuries, waiting for us to show up and drag them into modern civilization.

Tanza said, “The planet was ruled by a monarchy until about forty years before the Coalition showed up.”

“The whole planet?”

Tanza sat straighter and her diction became crisper—she looked like a little lecturer at one of those cultural symposiums that Roger and I always had to make appearances at. “After Kepha joined the other eleven kingdoms, the entire planet was united under the monarchy for three hundred and fifty-eight years.”

Not just a monarchy, but a planet-spanning monarchy. Such a thing hadn’t happened in all of human civilization, and these people had accomplished it when they were still on their home planet, believing themselves alone in the universe. I hadn’t thought such an archaic form of government could rule an entire continent without overextending itself, yet it had ruled their world for centuries. For the first time, I found myself wanting to learn something from the tephan people. How had such a government come about? How had they managed it?

Why did the woman on the cover look so sad?

I didn’t ask any of these questions because just then, a waiter appeared—not the water-spilling one, thank goodness. (I didn’t trust my guest to look at that one without throwing something at him.) This one was older, with crisp lines in his clothes and face. He looked like he could have won a staring contest with a statue—perfect unshakable professionalism.

“Are you ready to order, Madam Overton?” He didn’t even look at my guest.

Tanza’s eyes brightened as she picked up the menu, flipping through the pages to examine the options.

I asked her, “What you want to eat?”

“I don’t know.  I’ve never had human food.”

My jaw fell. “You wanted to come here and you didn’t even know what you wanted to eat?”

She gave me a withering stare, as though I was the stupid one. “I wanted to try it.” She closed the menu. “Besides, you said I can only eat what you tell me to eat. So what am I allowed to eat, Priscilla?”

I picked up the menu and realized with horror that I didn’t know the answer. What could tephans eat? Were there foods that were delicacies to us and poison to them?

I asked the waiter, “Do you have any suggestions?” I doubted these people served many tephans, but food was their area of expertise, and we were on Arateph.

The waiter looked at Tanza for the first time. “I’ve heard that people of her...race...are rather fond of the amphibian.” He pointed to an entry on my appetizer list. “The frog legs are popular. And a specialty of the chef.”

I hadn’t eaten frog in years. But if I could choke it down for Roger’s political dinners, I could manage it to satisfy a petulant tephan child. “We’ll have that.”

“Excellent. Is there anything else?”

I didn’t want to give Tanza any more chances to upset the wait staff. “No. Just get us our food as soon as possible.”

As the waiter walked away with our menus, an afternoon crowd filled the dining room; within a few minutes, we went from being nearly alone to being surrounded by other diners. I could tell by the sideways glances that most of them noticed my tephan guest. And I could tell that Tanza noticed them. She sat silently at first, growing more and more tense as we all tried to ignore each other, but when a bald man at the next table stared at her for several long moments, she finally snapped.

“Can you stop it?” she barked at him. “You’re giving me the shivers.” The man, red-faced, studied his menu as if his life depended on it.

Tanza turned back to the table, muttering, “You humans look so creepy when you stare.”

I was too stunned to scold her. I’d never considered that the distaste for the other race’s looks went both ways. If she’d lived her life in a mostly-tephan neighborhood, a human face would look just as slightly wrong to her as a tephan face did to me. It sounds strange, but the idea that she found us ugly made me like her more. It certainly made her more relatable.

But I couldn’t have her making a spectacle. “Please, don’t bother the other diners.”

She seemed ready to protest, but I spoke before she could argue. “That woman in your book. You said she was the last queen of Arateph. What happened?”

Her eyes lit up, rude diners forgotten, as she flipped open the book. “Revolution. The People’s House took over and had her and the king executed.”

I shivered. “So violent. And so young to die.”

Tanza gave me a confused look, then glanced at the cover and understood. “Oh, that’s from her first years as queen. She was almost seventy when she died.”

I pictured the woman on the cover with hair turned gray, but the same dark, sad eyes, facing an angry mob as they led her to the scaffold or the firing squad or however these people killed their leaders. It was brutal, but humanity had often been equally brutal, so I couldn’t dismiss it as their backward alien culture.

Tanza flipped through the pages. “They say she was weak and self-absorbed, but this book gives her more depth.” She looked at a page near the cover. “Verai’s a good scholar. Uses lots of primary sources. Very readable.”

Now that her interest was unleashed, Tanza talked on and on, taking me through an alien history, the tale of a queen beset by tragedy upon tragedy as she helped her husband rule a crumbling planet and struggled to produce an heir. All the scholars at those Coalition events were nowhere near as enthralling as this alien child sharing her favorite book.

As fascinating as the story was, I was even more entranced by the pictures—dozens were embedded through the text. Tanza condescended to turn the book around so I could see. It was grandeur like I’d never seen, buildings in alien colors and shapes and patterns, but bringing to mind the grandest palaces in human history, from Versailles to the Forbidden City to the red spires of the North Martian Emperor's summer home. The people in the pictures wore elaborate, brightly-colored clothes, and feasted upon vast tables full of unfamiliar food—including blossoms from the potted trees next to the tables. No primitive civilization could have created such a culture. No wonder this alien urchin was enthralled, and no wonder she’d seized the chance to attend the closest modern equivalent to such feasts that she knew of.

The return of the stone-faced waiter snapped me back to reality. He planted himself next to the table, passing blank-faced judgement by how thoroughly he didn’t look at the book or the way we bent over it. Face burning, I sat back in my chair and felt ashamed to be caught hanging upon an alien’s story like a dim-witted child.

Tanza swept the book under the table and sat primly as the waiters placed the food in front of us. First a gold charger, then the crystal plates bearing the food—ten frog legs, crisply fried in butter and lemon, dotted with parsley and surrounded by a handful of greens.

Half a dozen nearby heads surreptitiously craned in our direction.

The waiters set a similar platter in front of me, and after I’d arranged my napkin on my lap, I thanked the waiter, picked up the silverware, and began to cut the meat.

Tanza watched me carefully as the waiters left. She picked up her silverware, examined it closely—did tephans even have silverware?—and tried to imitate me, but when she touched the food, the prim little professor became the feral street child again. She still used the silverware, but that was her only concession to decency as she gobbled her foot, downing the frog legs almost whole. The butter sauce ringed her mouth and splattered on her clothing. She made the most inhuman snorting noises as she swallowed.

Now everyone was staring—the red-faced man at the next table, his three dining companions, the ten people sitting at the other nearby tables, the waiters who'd halted on their way to the kitchen. People murmured to their companions. Diners flagged down waiters and asked discreetly if there was something that could be done.

My face burned in embarrassment, but I couldn’t stop the girl. With all these eyes watching me—watching me, Priscilla Overton, entertaining an animal at the finest restaurant in Roshen—I couldn’t even speak. I wanted to sink into the carpet. I wanted to disappear. I wanted to run from the restaurant, flee from this planet, and return to comfortable, civilized Earth. But mortification left me paralyzed. I just sat and did nothing as Tanza devoured her food and licked every last drop of sauce from the plate.

Finally, she dropped her plate back on the charger and leaned back with satisfaction. Her big tephan eyes were bright. “That was amazing.” She licked all eight of her fingers, so lost in the euphoria of her food that she was unaware of the horrified crowd surrounding us. She looked at my plate with confusion. “You’ve barely touched yours.”

I let my fork drop to the tablecloth. “I’m not very hungry.”

Her eyes brightened. “Can I have it?”

“No.”

She gave me a disapproving look. “You can’t waste food. At least try to eat it.”

After that display, I’d never be able to stomach another frog leg. “It doesn’t appeal to me.”

“Then I’ll eat it.” Before I could react, she leaned across the table, speared a frog leg with her fork, and was chewing it before she settled back in her chair.

I wanted to scream. I could have tried to correct her, but I had no idea where to begin, and by now, it was far too late.

The stone-faced waiter leaned over my shoulder. He was pale and his eyes were wide—apparently there were some things that could rattle him. “Madam, if you cannot eat your food here, we can send it home with you.”

He was offering me a doggy bag. The finest restaurant in the city, which usually recoiled in horror from such vulgar practices, was so desperate for me to leave that the staff were sending me home with leftovers. I was, in effect, being kicked out.

I didn’t even care. “Yes, thank you.”

In seconds, another waiter appeared, carrying a green box that had probably held some kind of produce in the kitchen, repurposed into this restaurant’s first take-home container. I sat in silence as they poured the frog legs into the container, then I handed them my credit stick, and when I examined the payment screen of their datapad, I added on a gratuity that cost twice as much as the food did. Perhaps with a tip like that, they’d let me show my face here again. At the moment, I doubted I’d ever want to.

I gathered my purse and stood. That creature gathered her ridiculous book and followed me, smiling, out of the dining room.  

When we reached the lobby, I thrust the box into the child's hands. “Take it. I don’t want it.”

The girl's eyebrows rose. “You don’t? Are you sure? It’s really good.”

“I think it appeals more to tephan tastes.”

She thanked me as though I’d given her all the jewels that the queen on her book was wearing, then tucked the box under one arm and the book under the other.

I put a hand behind her shoulders and pushed her out the door. When we emerged onto the sunlit sidewalk, all my frustration exploded.

“There!” I snapped, giving her one last push beyond the awning of the restaurant. “You’ve had your meal. Take your food and go!”

She stumbled forward, then stared at me in bewilderment. “What set you off?”

My laugh was tinged with hysteria. “What set me off? Maybe I’m just a little peeved at being disgraced in front of some of the richest people in the city by a tephan who gobbles her food like an animal.”

She stood with her mouth open, struck speechless. Those big green eyes showed surprisingly human-looking hurt. “Was it that bad? I know I’m not fancy, but...”

“You can’t tell me you didn’t notice all those people staring.”

The creature turned red. She stammered, “I thought it was because I’m tephan. You told me not to bother them.”

I couldn’t bear to have that creature looking up at me with those big, sad eyes. I didn’t want to feel sorry for her. “It doesn’t matter,” I said. “Maybe in a few years they’ll let me dine there again.” I pushed her steadily but firmly away from the restaurant. “I have more than paid you in full. Thank you for saving my ring. Goodbye.”

Still looking baffled, the girl trudged away from the restaurant. I walked in the other direction.

My anger started fading the moment the child was out of my line of sight. Each step away from the restaurant felt like a step back into a normal world. There were humans around me. I could read the signs. I even knew how to find my way to the train station. I’d be back at the hotel within the hour and I could pretend that this whole horrible afternoon had been a bad dream.

Light footsteps skittered behind me. A green-clad tephan child with a book and a box appeared to my left.

I yelped and reeled back. “What are you—?”

Tanza fell into step beside me. “I’m really very sorry for embarrassing you. I need to make it up to you. Let me show you the way to the train station—”

My previous anger felt like a candle flame compared to the volcano that those words set off within me. “Leave me alone!” I towered over her in my fury. “I gave you your meal! I fulfilled the promise! Now leave!” I stormed away, but at the first sound of footsteps behind me, I whirled around. “I swear, if you take another step toward me, I will see you arrested!”

The child’s face hardened into the petulant mask that I recognized from my first sight of her from the gutter. “Sorry for helping.”

“Helping,” I mocked. “Your help comes at too high a price.” I gave a short, cynical laugh. “I see through your plan. You think you can trail after me demanding handouts all day. Well, I have had enough.” I secured my purse over my shoulder like I was holstering a weapon. “Get out of here!”

Face white and lips tight with anger, Tanza bowed her head and turned away. I strode away in triumph.

An old man looked at me sideways, shaking his head. I made it to the end of the block before the guilt hit me. The old man had reason to disapprove. Tanza had made an offer of help, and I’d responded by screaming at her in a public street. Perhaps she had felt remorse. As embarrassing as it had been to be seen with a girl who ate like an animal, how much worse would it feel to be the one who’d done it? I thought of those pictures in that book of hers. Would I have fared any better at a tephan feast?

I turned around. “Tanza, wait—“

“Hey, Tanza!”

The voice, coming from the other end of the block, was louder, harsher, and younger than mine. A crowd of boys stampeded down the sidewalk—all humans, about twelve years old, and led by a boy with slick black hair and gray and white clothes in the latest crisply-cut fashions. The children Tanza had noticed when we’d first arrived at the restaurant.

Tanza—standing near where I’d left her—tried to move away from them, but hesitated when she saw me standing at the other end of the block. In seconds, the boys had her surrounded.

The ringleader prodded her shoulder. “Escaped from your cage, Tanza? What are you doing among civilized people?”

His yellow-haired friend poked at the box of frog legs. “Looks like she’s looting houses.”

Tanza yanked the box away. “I’m not a thief!”

The ringleader tugged at the book under her other arm. “That’s a big book. Still playing at being smart, small-brain?”

Tanza pulled it back. “Don’t touch that!”

One boy pried up her arm while two others slid the book away from her. “Ooh, it’s a small-brain book!” the ringleader said in mock delight. He flipped through the pages with dirt-stained fingers. “It’s even written in their pretend letters.”

Tanza snarled, “Give that back!”

He slammed it shut and pulled it toward his chest. “Why? Scared it’s too complicated for me?”

“It’s mine!”

He looked at it thoughtfully. “Is it, though? I don’t think a charity case like you can afford a big book like this.”

“It’s mine!” she repeated, nearly shrieking now. “Teacher gave it to me!”

“Bet she stole it,” said a voice from the crowd. “She’s just a grubby little nameless charity house thief.”

Tanza, driven past the breaking point as the ringleader held the book just beyond her reach, shrieked in outrage and pounced. She tore at the book while the boys yanked it away from her. The individuals disappeared into a storm of arms and legs and paper. Five against one. I watched in terror for a few moments before thinking to call for help. I had my wristcomm. I could hit the emergency button….

It was over before I could lift my wrist. Tanza was sprawled across the sidewalk, surrounded by the shredded, dirty pages of her book. Her box had been torn open. Fleshy frog legs were scattered on the ground as though the animals had been thrown against the wall.

The boys, barely scuffed, loomed over her, mocking. They lifted the empty binding of the book like a trophy, cheering over it and slapping each other on the back. Then, satisfied with their destruction, they ran off the way they came, leaving their victim on the ground.

Numbly, I shuffled toward her, feeling lost in a different sort of nightmare--one where I was one of the monsters. Those boys had been waiting for her. If she’d had an ulterior motive for coming after me to apologize, she had been hoping for protection, not handouts. And I’d thrown her to the wolves.

Tanza pushed herself onto her knees and pulled the pages toward her, like a mother hen gathering up chicks. She looked more vulnerable than I’d ever seen her, eyes wide and glistening, her face slack with horror. Her emotionless mask was gone. She pressed an armload of shredded pages to her chest, curled into a fetal position, and cried.

Curled up like that, face and hands hidden, she didn’t look like a tephan. Not like the rude negotiator at the gutter. Not like the little professor or even the animal at the table. She was just a friendless little girl, surrounded by the wreckage of her most prized possession.

I thought of the last time I’d seen her lying in the street, arm threaded through a storm drain while she reached for my ring. The ring was in my pocket, safe and whole. How had I thanked her for her service? Tried to duck out of the promise, treated her like a savage, screamed at her in the streets, and left her at the mercy of bullies.

The ring I loved so much was one of dozens that I’d brought from Earth, and my day had been destroyed at the thought of losing it. This book was the only one she owned, and it was gone forever. I couldn’t imagine her distress.

How had I thought her the savage?  

My stomach twisted with loathing, and for the first time all day, it was directed toward myself. I could fool myself no longer; I’d done nothing to be proud of today.

But that could change.

Approaching Tanza with soft, careful steps, I crouched next to her. “Tanza?” I brushed a finger across her shoulder.

The girl recoiled from my touch and turned away. She came up on her feet, but stayed scrunched into a ball, protecting her pages and hiding her red eyes.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

Her voice was thick with tears. “Go away.”

I grabbed one of the pages. “I can help—“

She whirled her head toward me and snapped, “I said go away!”

I stumbled back, and for a moment I was ready to do as she wanted. This was not my problem and she didn’t want my help.

Then my good sense returned, and I barked, “Don’t be stupid. I’m not going to leave a child in the street.” I started gathering pages. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

I looked around for help. The crowd had merely started taking a wider berth around us, but after a moment, I saw the green and silver flash of a Coalition policeman’s uniform—on a policeman with tephan hands.

I’d never thought I’d be glad to see that officer again. I waved toward him, shouting, “Officer! Please, can you help?”

My voice startled the officer, and his surprise turned to concern as he neared and saw the devastation. He crouched next to us and asked me, “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing,” I said. The twist in my stomach reminded me that those words weren’t the complete truth, so I amended, “I didn’t destroy the book. There was a group of boys...”

The officer had already turned his attention to Tanza, speaking low-toned words in their tephan language. When they finished, his demeanor toward me was less hostile but more disappointed.

“Now you want to help her?” he asked.

That now was an accusation that cut like a knife. I deserved it, but I met his gaze boldly. “Yes,” I said, daring him to deny me.

He spoke a few more words to Tanza, then told me, “Gather pages.”

He helped Tanza to her feet while I gathered what I could of the paper. Torn edges, smeared alien words, and pictures of long-dead royals who stared at me with accusing eyes. The queen providing food to the poor, shelter to the homeless, clothes to shivering orphans. She’d done all that and wound up executed; looking at Tanza and the tephan officer, I couldn’t help wondering how much worse they thought I deserved.

#

When I’d gathered all the pages I could into a crinkling, crunching mess, I followed in silence as the officer led us along the route we’d taken, every block seeming as long as a mile. When we reached the familiar yellow building where everything had started, I gave the pages to the officer, and he motioned for Tanza to go toward the stair of the building.

“Is there anything else I can do?” I asked Tanza, almost desperate.

Tanza just turned her head away.

“I think you’ve done enough,” the officer said. The words were soft, but I heard the condemnation in them.

I shouldered my purse more firmly, avoided Tanza’s eyes, then asked the officer, “Can you tell me where to find a train station?”

The officer pointed down the street in the opposite direction from where I’d originally approached the building. “The nearest one is just beyond the Killing Square.”

The words shocked me out of the numbness I’d been feeling. “The what?”

But the officer was already rattling off directions, and I was too busy memorizing the steps—left, then right, past the purple tower, turn two blocks after the bridge—to ask what exactly a Killing Square was. I didn’t think a uniformed police officer would purposely send me to my death, so I assumed something had been lost in the translation.

“Thank you, officer,” I said when he finished. Then I looked at the girl and added, “Thank you, Tanza.”

Tanza's green clothes—now scuffed from battle—hung loosely off her slumped shoulders. After a long moment, she raised her head and looked at me from beneath lowered lids. “Goodbye,” she said.

Her tone meant, “Good riddance.”

My pride flared at that. I thought I'd been rather compassionate--helping her gather the pages, hailing the officer, even trailing her all the way to her home to make sure that she arrived safely. Surely she could show a little gratitude.

But as I walked through the narrow, battered streets, it was my own rudeness that haunted me. Snatching the ring from her fingers as though afraid she'd contaminate it. Fleeing from her rather than fulfilling the promise. Leaving her to fight five against one when a moment's action on my part could have saved her. All day, I'd thought myself better than her because I was human, but my actions had been inhumane.

I tried to put it behind me. There was nothing else I could do. The book was gone, beyond repair. Tanza probably never wanted to see me again. It was best to move on and forget all about the tephan girl and the dark-eyed queen that so fascinated her.

Then I turned the corner and came face to face with Queen Marastel. A picture on the gray stone wall, larger than life, showed the woman whose face I’d seen a hundred times in Tanza’s book. I stopped in my tracks, mesmerized. The image was a photo, more or less, but not like any photo or holo-image I’d ever seen from human technology. The colors were more muted than reality, while a strange vibrant shimmer added depth to the image, so it looked as though I could walk inside the pictured scene with a little effort.

The queen’s hair had gone completely gray, her jewels were gone, and her vividly colored gowns had been replaced by a white fabric sheath. What I noticed most were her eyes—they were striking in most of the book photos, but here, her gaze knocked the breath from me. Surely no human gaze could show that much sorrow.

How was she here? Would this queen haunt me wherever I went on this planet, reminding me of my sins against the child?

I noticed a small plaque next to the picture, with a tiny Anglese translation at the bottom, which explained that the image showed Queen Marastel in front of this very building, moments before she was led to death in the center of the square. “Oh,” I said aloud, turning slowly to examine the streets and buildings around me as understanding struck. “The Killing Square.”

This was the center of the revolution that had ended this planet’s monarchy. It was a hauntingly bland neighborhood; no sign of the violent destruction that Tanza had told me of, not after more than eighty years’ worth of repairs.  But pictures and plaques decorated almost every building I saw, telling the story that time had erased. Seven brothers from Kepha stood scarred but proud before a jeering band of executioners. A red-haired older woman tried to cheer up three children as armed rebels escorted them all to prison. The king himself stood tall and white-haired, every line of his face showing his fierce love for his planet even as his people tried to kill him.

I could list examples all day, but I could never make you understand the feeling of being there, gazing at these people in the moments before their deaths. They were young and old, tall and short, had hair and skin in every imaginable shade. They came from regions I hadn’t known existed--desert wastes and mountain ranges and snow-covered tundras. These people had families they’d hated to lose, homes that were as familiar to them as the cottage by the Atlantic had once been to me. They’d made mistakes and suffered for it. They, too, had regrets.

Fear, anger, hatred, love, bravery, cowardice--every possible human emotion filled those alien faces, and it didn’t take long for me to stop seeing them as alien at all. They were people, who’d lived on this planet just as I did, who had loved it the way I’d loved Earth.

I’d never even wanted to know about this world before, but now I was desperate to understand every story these pictures presented. Without Tanza’s book providing context, would I even have paused to look at these pictures? Would I have cared about these people? I doubted I would have. Tanza's childish enthusiasm for a book had upended my world--as I’d upended hers.

With that thought, I found myself back before the picture of the queen. Her sorrowful eyes pinned me in place. It seemed, to my overworked imagination, that she was disappointed in me.

I glared at her. “What else do you want me to do?” I demanded. “What’s done is done. I can’t fix it. I don’t even know what book it was.”

In that hall of death, it seemed a pitiful excuse.

I tore my eyes away from the picture, and my gaze landed upon a door I’d wandered past in my history-induced daze. It was brown and wide, with a sign above proclaiming it the entrance to the Museum of the Alogath Execution Center. I wandered toward it, then froze in my tracks only a few steps away. Next to the entrance was a window—and through the window, I saw books.

This was a museum! Museums—even tephan ones—had gift shops! If there was one place in this world that sold books about Queen Marastel, it was likely the museum that displayed her face on a public street.

I raced into the building, almost giddy, and found the shop just beyond the main entrance. The tiny nook held pamphlets and trinkets, and at the front of the room, a big, silver BookVend machine printed and bound volumes with lightning speed.

I raced through the door. The tephan woman behind the counter dropped her book in surprise as I leaned, panting, against her counter.

The woman asked in smooth Anglese, “Can I help you?”

I stood up and tried to look less like a maniac. “Yes,” I said, in my best politician’s-wife voice. “I need you to help me find a book.”  

#

The door to the charity home loomed large in front of me. I hesitated with my hand before the door. Was I doing something stupid? The freshly-printed book under my arm might not change the fact that the child would want nothing to do with me.

This wasn't about me. I had to try.

My knock was answered by a pale, knobby tephan woman with wisps of blond hair hanging around her face. She stared when she saw my face and clothes. “Madam?”

“Excuse me," I asked, "but does a girl named Tanza live here?”

The woman's eyes glazed over as she struggled to translate my Anglese.

I tried again, speaking more slowly. “Is Tanza here?”

“Tanza…” She trailed off in confusion before her eyes lit with understanding. “Oh!” Gently, she corrected, “It’s pronounced Tanza.”

It sounded exactly the same to me. I was starting to believe those people who said tephans could speak and hear sounds that humans couldn't.

The woman called into the building, and after a storm of voices and footsteps, a slight tephan girl in green clothes came to the door, her curls making a curtain over her still-puffy eyes.

Tanza scowled when she saw me. “What do you want?”

I took a deep breath and stepped forward. “I wanted to apologize,” I said. “For what happened. How I treated you. You saved my ring and I treated you like an animal. That was wrong.”

Tanza crossed her arms. “Glad you noticed.”

This child kept finding ways to irritate me, but I swallowed my words before I snapped back in response.

I pulled a book from under my arm. “I know this doesn’t erase what you went through, but I wanted to undo some of the harm that I’ve done today.” I handed her the book, which had the same cover as the book she’d brought to the restaurant. “This is for you.”

Warily, Tanza examined the queen on the cover. “It looks the same.” She flipped through the pages, and her eyes brightened. “It is the same!”

“I printed a new copy. There’s a BookVend down the street. You rescued my ring; it was only fair that I replace your book.”

"Yes, but I didn't think..." She examined the book in amazement before turning that astonished gaze upon me. "This is really mine? To keep?"

“Yes, of course,” I said.

Tanza clutched the book to her chest and smiled at me, positively radiant. That smile transformed her from a feral orphan into a polite little princess.

I couldn’t keep from smiling back.

“Thank you,” Tanza said. Then she saw the other book under my arm. “What’s that one?” she asked, as though hoping it was for her and not daring to ask.

I pulled it out and showed her the cover. It showed the same image of the queen, but this time above an Anglese title—The Queen of Sorrow. “The Anglese edition,” I explained. “This one’s for me.”

If I’d thought she was happy before, it was nothing compared to her radiance now. “You’re going to read it?”

I shrugged. "I couldn't resist. You made it sound so interesting."

She bounced on the balls of her feet. “Wait until you get to Chapter Five. That’s when she first meets the king, and you would not believe the uproar it causes."

She set down her book, grabbed mine, and started flipping through the pages, desperate to show me the start of the story.

From down the hall, an adult voice barked, “Tanza! Don’t bother the woman. I’m sure she’s busy.”

Embarrassed, Tanza closed the book. She pushed it back into my hands. “Sorry. I don’t get to talk about it much.”

“I don’t mind. You’re an excellent instructor.”

Her eyes brightened with hesitant hope. “I could show you more. If you want.”

“I’d be grateful.”

Tanza called over her shoulder. “Garsa! Can I have a visitor in the study room?”

The tephan woman appeared in the entryway. She blinked, taken aback. “As long as she leaves before supper."

Tanza looked up at me. “Do you want to stay?”

No tephan had ever asked me that question before. In all my time here, I’d been an outsider. An invader. I’d never had the desire to be anything more. But those words, coming from Tanza, felt like a welcome.  

I was glad to receive it.

I put a hand on Tanza’s shoulder and smiled. “I’d love to.”

[laurenwritesfics]

Here it comes! Chapter three! 

Read the previous chapter HERE. Read the full series on AO3.

Warning(s): alcohol consumption, use of coarse language, description of car accident

CHAPTER THREE: BEFORE THE STORM

The following morning, Frank woke early to check on Mary.

He could tell she’d been crying. Her cheeks were blotchy. One arm was draped over the side of the bed, seemingly still reaching for the book splayed out on the floor. He rested against the door frame, watching her for a moment. When something was wrong, she was a light sleeper. Desperate for a distraction. It would take her a long time to finally drift off. He didn’t want to walk any closer, fearing the noise might wake her. Then –

“I know you’re there.” Mary’s voice was muffled against her pillow.

“It’s too early. Go back to sleep.”

“Can’t.” Her fingers twitched. “I miss Fred.”

“I know. We’ll look again later, okay? Go to sleep.”

“No.”

Frank sighed and shut the bedroom door.

In the kitchen, Frank washed up last night’s leftover plates. Of course, Roberta hadn’t meant for this to happen. He knew that for certain. Wringing his hands on the dish towel, something occurred to him. What if it was Evelyn? He bristled at the thought.

He slung the dish towel over his shoulder and strode into the hallway to pick up the phone.

“Where’s Fred?” He asked tersely.

“It’s not like you to be awake so early. You’re usually passed out from a night at the bar after messing around with those silly boats.”

“Thanks for your concern, Evelyn.”

He could feel her eyes rolling through the receiver.

“To answer your question, I don’t have a clue where he is. Frankly I think it’s offensive that the first person you’d accuse is your own mother.”

Frank scoffed. “Really?”

“Don’t do this again, Francis.” Whenever Evelyn used his full name, he knew she was pissed. “You can’t blame me for everything.”

“I’m not. I’m just saying I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Honestly, I think it will do her the world of good to spend some time away from that damn cat.”

Now Frank was pissed. “Yeah? Well that damn cat has been more like family to her than you’ve ever been. If you care so much about Mary then why don’t you visit? She needs her grandmother.”

“You know she doesn’t like me. It wouldn’t make any difference.”

“The only reason she doesn’t like you is because she doesn’t know you.”

“She lived with me for six months, Francis.” Evelyn didn’t want to admit that Frank had a point.

“Yeah, and she was gonna run away if the court hadn’t changed the guardianship order.” He shifted his weight and threw an arm out in frustration. “Y’know what, I’m not doing this.”

He didn’t bother to say goodbye.

In the few minutes it took to call Evelyn, Mary had stealthily made her way into the kitchen where she was now attempting to climb the counter to reach the cupboards. Frank rushed over and set her down on the tiles.

“Easy there, Spider-Girl. Go sit down, I’ll make you some eggs.”

Mary shuffled reluctantly over to the kitchen table, where she sat hunched over in deep thought. When Frank slid her plate onto the table, she stabbed half-heartedly at the eggs, taking tiny nibbles. The last time she had been like this was when Diane died. She was grieving again, and it tore Frank apart knowing he couldn’t do anything to stop it. Children react differently to loss – some dwell on it and discover the depth of their emotions, others brush over it and seem to just cope because they don’t fully understand the concept – Mary was the kind of girl who could easily get deeply invested in just about anything. The highs were astronomical. The lows were frightening for her. She was so open, so emotionally vulnerable, but when sadness hit her, she completely shut down. It was as if there were two different girls under the same roof. 

Frank and Roberta were doing their best to instill a sense of hope, but Mary refused to engage. They didn’t understand, she thought. They couldn’t. As much as she trusted, believed and understood the adults in her life, sometimes they could be frustratingly rational. She knew that they had her best interests at heart, and knew there was every chance Fred would be out there somewhere, but just for once, she wished someone would cry with her. All the comfort in the world couldn’t erase the fact that her best friend was gone. A part of her was missing.

For the sake of maintaining the illusion of normalcy, she had agreed to go to school for at least one more day. If they couldn’t find Fred, then she was going to stay home. Frank didn’t want her to feel isolated. She didn’t need to be put under more stress.

As they drove to school, Mary remained mute. When he dropped her off at the gates, she finally spoke.

“You don’t have to pick me up. I’ll walk home.”

Frank opened his mouth to protest but knew it would be useless.

She slammed her door shut.

He watched her shoulders slump, her feet dragging as she made her way through the yard. It broke his heart.

On the way home, he circled the neighborhood multiple times, rolling down the window to call out for Fred. Still, nothing. He called Roberta. Nothing. 

Heading out to the docks, he threw himself into work. He rattled drawers, pored over blueprints, made several phone calls. The afternoon wore on, dissolving into empty stillness. Frank climbed aboard the Celestia – a gleaming yacht that was the pride and joy of a wealthy dentist in Coral Gables – pushed his toolbox aside and broke into the storage drawer where he’d hidden an icebox. He grabbed a beer, popped the bottle cap in the sink and headed back up onto the deck. One day he’d have his own Celestia. Or at least be rich enough to consider it. When he started freelance maintenance work, he was driven purely by passion projects and impulsive agreements with bar patrons. Upon Mary’s arrival, he became a ‘yes man’. He took on anything he could to provide for her, even if it meant working until the early hours or missing Mary’s piano recitals. It didn’t matter how exhausted, frustrated or depressed he was, he struggled through for her. 

His thoughts drifted to Diane. What she would be doing now. Mathematics was her life, but it wasn’t her passion. He remembered visiting her one Saturday afternoon, confronted with chaos. Diane flung the door open and greeted him, covered in paint. Mary ran towards him, pressing tiny red hand-prints onto his freshly-laundered shirt. He thought of her first gallery showing. The way she glowed with pride. Mary’s enthusiasm as she held Diane’s hand and introduced them both to as many people as she could. Even those she already knew. It is, of course, impossible to travel back in time and change the course of your personal history. But Frank couldn’t help wondering what might have happened if it was possible. He certainly wouldn’t be day drinking on a yacht feeling like a complete and utter failure. Would Diane think he was? Probably not. They stood by each other unfalteringly. When Mary was old enough to add her first scribbles to a birthday card, she signed it (or rather, Diane did - Mary drew a scraggly flower and a heart) ‘to the world’s best uncle’. Diane embraced him and told him yes, he really was.

He believed it then. Things were different now.

 Bleary-eyed, Frank glanced at his watch. Shit. He needed to go home.

He fumbled for his keys and dropped down onto the dock. The sedan rattled to life. If Mary was ever locked out of the house, she would usually walk to Roberta’s for a spare key. If Roberta wasn’t home, she would wait by the front door, kicking up dirt. Now, though, all Frank could picture was Mary walking alone, too hell-bent on sleuthing to realize that she was lost. He swung out of the shipyard and drove down to Mary’s school. She wasn’t waiting in the parking lot. He headed to the reception desk. The secretary had seen her leave with the rest of her class. Frank said a quick ‘thank you’ and ran back to the car. A pang of tipsy dizziness hit him, so he sat in the car for a few minutes, pinched the bridge of his nose and blinked rapidly in a bid to straighten himself out.

He took the long way home. The streets were empty. He pulled into the driveway, got out and peered through the window. The TV was switched off. There were no books strewn across the floor or on the coffee table. He opened the door and called for her. No response. He checked her room. Empty. Frank was starting to panic.

Before he set off again, he cracked open another beer. He knew he shouldn’t, but he did it anyway. The stress – or rather, the self-inflicted guilt - was just too much to handle sober. Then, he called Roberta. “Roberta, it’s Frank. Have you seen Mary?”

“I’m sorry honey, I haven’t. She hasn’t come by.”

“Shit. Where the hell is she? This isn’t like her.”

“Maybe she’s hanging out with a friend? Study group?”

“She doesn’t have any friends.” It sounded harsh, but it was true. “If she’s gone out there on her own looking for Fred…if something’s happened to her, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“Don’t talk like that, Frank. I’m sure she’s fine. She’ll come home.”

“I’m gonna go drive around the neighborhood. If she comes by the house, call me.”

“Of course I will.”

“Thanks, Roberta. I owe you one.”

Without missing a beat, Roberta replied. “No charge.”

It occurred to him then that there was one place he hadn’t looked – the beach.

Frank stumbled into the car and shakily turned the key.

Even through his beer-tinted haze, he couldn’t see her anywhere. Mary’s voice repeated in his head as he drove.

“Slow down! Mom said never go to bed or drive angry.”

He wasn’t angry. He was anxious.

Turning down the winding lane that would eventually lead him to the beach, Frank felt a surge of adrenaline rip through his entire body. He gradually picked up speed. She was there. She had to be.

He was so caught up in his own trail of thought that he didn’t realize the car had started to sway. It was getting later. Darker.

It was starting to rain. The road was getting slicker by the second.

The blinding beam of oncoming headlights caught him off-guard.

He swerved.

The crunch of metal against metal echoed down the quiet lane.

Now he was sober.

Permanent taglist: @hiddelstannerbarnes  @redlipstickandblacktea @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho @djeniiscorner @its-tortle @k347 @ixalit @iguessweallcrazyithinktho @cevansfics @capchrisevaans @hawkeyeandthewintersoldier @musette22 @mcubabydotcom @worksby-d @chuckbass-love @bluemusickid @fallinforevans @hellobeautworld @katiew1973 @disaster-dean @rebthom89 @navybrat817 @denisemarieangelina @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss @brattycherubwrites @cherrychris @celestialbarnes @the-iceni-bitch @caplanbuckybarnes @caplanreads @autumnrose40 @mashep23 @babyyhoneyydarling @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @autumnrose40 @what-is-your-backupplan-today @stargazingfangirl18 @divine-mistake @angrybirdcr @dangerouslovefanfic @cloudystevie  @steebsbabygirl @eurynome827 @sweeterthanthis @honeyloverogers @patzammit @nakedrogers @before-we-get-started @howdoyousleep3​

[blueroseblaze]

Devil May Cry INK

New Devil May Cry Nero x GN!Reader tattoo!AU series based on the lovely work by @hennatheantenna​ 

also available on Ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2203587

Please enjoy this first installment

The shop was quiet, save for the soft sweeping and the low hum of the radio. The Sunday early evening light shining through the windows was blinding if you weren’t sitting in the right spot. The orange lights cascading through the front windows warming the waiting area. It was a nice respite from an otherwise busy day.

Nero sat behind the counter, thumbing through, and counting the stack of cash with practiced speed and rhythm before placing it back in the register drawer. He glanced up at V who was too preoccupied sweeping the storefront floor and being distracted by the sleeping black shop cat on the windowsill.

“When is this new artist coming in?” V asked in his normal low poetic voice, not even looking In Nero’s direction while speaking.

“They should be here in a few minutes, we agreed on 6:30 for the interview,” Nero replied.

“Are you going to hire them? Dante did give you the final say on it.”

“Their portfolio is really impressive, and Nico spoke highly of them. So, we’ll see. We’re short-staffed anyway so I don’t think we’re in the business of being super picky.

“Right,” V hummed before continued his cleaning.

Devil May Cry Ink had been short-staffed for a long time despite being located in a relatively popular area, close to many clubs, shops, and an active nightlife. With only 3 artists and one financial manager, they could hardly keep up with patrons when there were rarely all three artists present. Dante, Nero’s uncle and official co-owner of the establishment was remarkably popular and often traveled to meet in person with more high-end clients rather than have them come to their humble little shop. Luckily, Nero’s Father, Vergil, was more than capable of keeping them afloat handling the financial side of the equation.

Nero leaned back in his chair behind the counter, balancing on the back legs with his feet propped up on the countertop. He shut his eyes and sighed, listening to the low drawl of the radio and the humming of the vents that kicked on overhead.

But soon the young man was shaken from his half nap when he heard a knock on the front door, which had been locked at the end of the day.

“Is that them?” V asked.

“Probably,” Nero replied before standing to answer the door.

Nero approached the door and unlocked it, opening it enough only for him to stick his head out to greet the person and make sure that she was in fact their new possible hire.

“Hi,” they greeted in an excited but polite voice, “I’m here for an interview, I’m looking for Nero.”

“You found him,” Nero replied confidently, “Are you Y/N?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” they said.

Nero welcomed them inside, stepping out of the way of the door so that they could slip through and he could lock the door again behind him. they faced him, waiting for any extra greeting or instruction as V approached the two.

“This is my half-brother, Vitalie,” Nero introduced.

V held out a lanky tatted arm and Y/N took his hand, giving a professional shake.

“You can call me V,” he said.

“Noted,” they said with a smile glancing down as something rubbed against their leg making them jump.

“That our shop cat, Shadow,” Nero explained, “Don’t worry she’s had all her shots.”

After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Nero led the young artist towards the back of the shop where there would be little disturbance. They tried taking in the atmosphere of the shop but found the man walking before them too distracting. Their eyes traced over the intricate blue and red roses that sleeved his arms, all the way up to the ink covering a sizable portion of his neck leading right up to the snowy white undercut he was sporting.

“Hey um, is your…”

“My hair is natural, yes,” Nero replied before they could even get a word out.

Y/N started to internally panic, their face going red as they averted their gaze trying to explain themselves and apologize, stumbling over their words like a flustered cartoon.

Nero chuckled, “It’s ok I get it a lot.”

Y/N huffed in embarrassment as they continued to follow him to the back room. The office wasn’t particularly big, just enough to fit some shelves, a desk, and a couch. It was mostly just a place for Vergil to get away to do work or discuss business, and for Dante to take naps.

Nero took a seat at the desk, pulling out a large portfolio as he instructed Y/N to sit down. He opened the portfolio and began flipping through it for what was probably the twentieth time.

“You can take your jacket off,” he said, “Make yourself comfortable.”

Y/N shrugged out of their jacket, adjusting their shirt as they laid it nicely on the arm of the sofa. Nero glanced up from the portfolio and stared at their bare arms and chest in confusion.

“Do you have any ink?” he asked incredulously.

Y/N huffed out a nervous laugh, hand moving to the back of their neck as they looked away.

“Yeah, I know how it looks. I’m just not a fan of needles is all. But I promise all that work is mine. You wouldn’t be the first to think it wasn’t.”

Nero looked back down at the portfolio. He was surprised at the lack of ink but had no reason to think it was plagiarism. He trusted Nico’s judgment so if she recommended an artist he would trust she knew what she was talking about.

“It’s not a problem I’m just surprised. I mean I was really impressed by your work it was just a surprise that you didn’t have any on you. So anyway, how long have you been tattooing,” he asked attempting to dodge the now awkward tension.

“About 3 years,” Y/N began, “I started getting interested in body art when I was young because my best friend’s dad owned a tattoo parlor in my hometown. I actually did my apprenticeship there before moving out here. I met Nico about a year and a half ago and we became fast friends and she asked me to do one or two pieces for her.”

“You ever been to art school?” Nero asked.

“Yeah! Majored in drawing and illustration,” they replied.

The interview went on with more questions and straightforward answers. Mostly about Y/N’s experience and a walk-through of their best work. A few quips and jokes thrown in here and there. Nero couldn’t keep his eyes off them as they went on and on about their artistic process and what inspires them. He couldn’t deny that they were cute. The way their eyes lit up as they spoke about what they were passionate about.

“So when did you first start?” Y/N asked, turning the questions back around on Nero.

“Pretty long time ago,” he answered, “My uncle started this place when I was like a toddler and roped my dad into it. Once I turned sixteen the old man finally let me get my first one. And when I turned eighteen my uncle let me start working.”

“I see you like roses,” they said, eyeing the expansive work on Nero’s arms.

“Yeah, they’re my favorite,” Nero explained, “Had them done by my uncle.”

The two of them had ended up talking for almost two hours, changing subjects to things like movies and music that they liked, and they found they had a lot in common. It was only when V poked his head through the door and reminded Nero of the time that they decided to call it quits.

“Can you start Monday?” Nero asked.

Y/N’s eyes grew wide and they vigorously nodded, almost jumping in their spot with excitement. They thanked both of them for their time before Nero offered to walk them to the door. They wished him a goodnight and he locked the door behind them. But not before exchanging phone numbers.

“They seem nice,” V said, smirking at Nero’s confused face, “And attractive it seems.”

Nero sputtered a broken response before playfully slugging his brother in the arm, causing the thin man to laugh.

“Just making an observation,” V excused.

“Yeah well keep your observations to yourself,” Nero chided, as he walked back behind the front counter. He reached over and picked up his leather jacket and blue helmet that matched the floral print on his sleeves that were hanging off the barstool. He slung the jacket over his shoulder and tucked the helmet under his arm.

“It has been a while since your last relationship, perhaps something could blossom from this.”

“Work is work, V. Don’t make it sound like I hired them just because they’re hot.”

“Did you?” V asked with a grin.

“No of course not!” Nero cried out defensively, “Anyway whatever, are you good to lock up by yourself?”

“Yes it shouldn’t take me too long,” V replied, “Can you feed Griffon when you get home?

Nero huffed in annoyance at the thought of feeding that little demon chicken.

“Yes, I’ll feed Griffon. See ya at home.”

V gave a subtle goodbye to Nero as he exited the shop and gave one last head pat to Shadow. Still smiling to himself at his sibling's flustered response.

Nero threw on the leather jacket and forced the helmet on his head, rounding the corner to the back of the shop where Red Queen was parked. He paused, letting his brother’s words playback in his head. It had been a while since he was in the dating game. It wasn’t like he was sad after his breakup; it was mutual and they remained on good terms, but he was getting antsy to the point that V had noticed.

Nero huffed, and mounted the motorcycle, kicking it into gear and speeding off.

Hope you enjoyed :)

[kl4us4]

STRANGE (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

Inspiration: Strange - LP

Summary: Spencer worries about his place in the team sometimes. He doesn’t have a love life, he doesn’t get things that everyone else gets, he’s left out of jokes sometimes. His friends love him dearly, especially you. But sometimes, he feels... strange. Too strange to fit in.

masterlist

tags: early seasons Spencer, little tiny baby Spence

Spencer slumps in Garcia’s seat, sitting alone in the room as he waits for her to come back from giving Morgan some printed information on the newest victim. He taps his foot against the ground, a finger placed in his mouth as he chews on his nail.

“What’s got you worried?”

Turning back, Spencer stands when he sees you at the doorway. “Oh, I’m waiting for Garcia.” He answers, only meeting your eyes for a second. “You?” That’s the first way you know something’s wrong. Both of you are aware - if not, fond - of the lingering eye contact, the soft looks, the gentle smiles shared between the two of you. It’s what first clued Spencer on that you may have a crush on him. And you did. And Spencer didn’t know what to do because he liked you too, he just assumed it’d die down because of your status as co-workers.

“Right. I’m just dropping these off before heading home,” You nod back, placing a few files down on Garcia’s desk as you speak, “Maybe you can read up about lying since you’re really bad at it.”

Spencer cringes slightly, making you chuckle quietly. “Am I that bad?” He winces slightly, hands in his pocket as he stands in the middle of the room.

You nod at him, seeing his shoulders fall slightly. Something’s bothering him, it’s beyond obvious; at least to you, being so close to him. “Do you want to talk about it?” You wonder.

Spencer flicks his eyes up to meet yours before he gives an uncertain shrug, “I don’t know, I think Garcia might be a better contender.”

“Oh, yeah,” you nod back, backing off immediately and giving him a smile, “I hope you’re okay. Bye, Spence.”

Spence. The nickname eases tension from his shoulders a little. You’ve always been kind to him, no matter what. The whole team have, but you never make jokes at his expense or tell him to move on when he’s rambling. You always listen to him. You never knock him for his interests no matter how odd they are. “Wait.”

Turning, you raise your eyebrows at him, letting out a small, “Yeah?”

Spencer pauses, lips parted as he finds the words, “Do you ever feel...” His eyes search the room, almost as if the answer will be hidden somewhere, “Out of place? Like - like you don’t belong?”

The question saddens you a little but then you think about it and you let out a small laugh, “All the time.” You smile at him, heading over to Garcia’s desk. You clear a spot, leaning against it carefully.

“Really?” Spencer tilts his head at you, eyebrows furrowed.

“What, is that hard to believe?” You wonder, smile still gracing your lips.

Spencer just gives a small shrug, looking up at you with curious, light eyes, “Everything just... seems to come so easy for you.”

You let out a hum, “What do you mean by everything?”

“Work, friends...” He trails off, “Significant others... relationships.”

“You feel like you don’t do well in those areas?”

Now it’s Spencer letting out a laugh, “No!”

“Why?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you think you’re not good at making friends?”

“I don’t know... I just - I guess I bore people sometimes. I once had a girl tell me to stop talking, just straight up stop talking.” He answers, looking down and cringing as he relived the memory, “I’m... too much for people - even Morgan gets tired of me.”

You don’t mean to look so sad and upset but you can’t help but feel his pain. Spence really seems upset by this. Does he really think everyone’s bored of him? Everyone thinks he’s wonderful, if only he heard how they speak of him when he isn’t around. You wish you could tell him all the great things he can’t see, but you can’t give yourself away so directly.

“The people who matter most won’t tell you to shut up.” You remark. Spencer can’t help but meet your eyes at the serious tone. “You perceive me in a weird way, I think.” You admit to him, seeing confusion cross his face, “When I first joined, everyone hated disliked me. I didn’t think I would last a month here.”

“What?” Spencer frowns, “No way, Rossi loved you!”

“Rossi knew my mother,” you remind him, “But Emily and JJ disliked me so much that they didn’t bother getting to know me. Garcia was the only person who tried, everyone else was too... busy.”

“I had no idea.”

You shrug, letting out a huff of laughter, “I think I give off a bad impression.”

Spencer pouts, shaking his head as he thinks back to meeting you for the first time, “I liked you when I met you.”

You try not to let your cheeks turn red, “You’re the outlier. Even my roommates hated me when they first met me, then they got to know me and everything was fine. But trust me,” you shake your head, “It did not come easy for me.”

Spence lets out a small sigh, eyes drifting away from you, “Yeah. I guess not.” You don’t push, though you can sense something unsaid lingering on his lips, “We’re different.”

“How?”

Spencer shrugs, “You’re not like me. I’m - I’m kind of a nerd. I never had many friends. I never had roommates in college. I was unpopular, girls never liked me - they still don’t.” You try not to roll your eyes. “You fit in places easier than I do.”

“Who’s telling you that you need to fit in?” You pose the question. The answer is no one. No ones pushing him to be this ideal person, someone who has many friends, fits in everywhere, is socially accepted, doesn’t rant about Star Wars and science.

“Everyone,” he admits, “You’re the only person who doesn’t get tired of me or put off by how my brain works. I think... I’m too... I don’t know, strange. For most people at least.”

“Okay, and how do you fix being strange?”

This catches him off guard. His eyes snap to yours. “What?”

“You say you’re strange, so what do you change about yourself to stop being strange?” You wonder, smile now gone as you wait for his response, “Stop reading? Pretend to be bad at your job? Why? To be, what, normal?” You laugh at the idea, shaking your head at him, “Spence, who would you be if you were ‘normal’?”

“I don’t know.” He responds quietly.

“Would you be happier?”

Spencer looks up, meeting your eyes. He wonders if he were just a random person who met you at a cafe or at a bar if you two would be together. That would make him happier. “Maybe.” He admits.

“See? Bad liar.” You point out, shooting him a smile but he just forces one and looks at the ground. “Spence, I’m not saying this to try and make you feel like... what you’re feeling isn’t valid, okay? I just-” You look down at him, your eyes brushing over his face as you look at him, “If you say yourself the way that I see you.” You just shake your head, not finishing the sentence. You look down instead, stepping away from Garcia’s desk to stand in front of him. “There’s nothing wrong with who you are. I know it seems like people get tired of you, or don’t have time for you but - it’s just the pace of the job.”  When Spencer doesn’t meet your eyes, you lean forward a little, “Hey, listen to me.” He looks up, eyes becoming a little red but you don’t point it out or gaze for too long, “If you knew how much they loved and admired you, you wouldn’t be thinking this. So... I’m sorry that you don’t know how much everyone cares for you - for you, the way you are. Nothing about you needs to be changed or fixed. And don’t - don’t compare yourself to me, I used to keep all my pencil shavings in a Tupperware container when I was a kid. I had no friends.” Spencer lets out a burst of laughter - which was your goal! And he gives you a small judgmental look before you both laugh together. “We are all strange,” you admit to him, a gentle smile on your face, “And that’s never going to change. It’s nothing something that needs fixing. Don’t be afraid of that, don’t change that - especially not because of some rude girl or one of Morgan’s dumb ‘jokes’.” You place a gentle hand on his chest, above his heart, “You are who you are, and who you are is -” you cut yourself off, not getting too ahead of yourself, “Remarkable.”

Pulling your hand away, Spencer meets it with his own. His hand is gently grasping yours, keeping it hovering over his chest. You look up at him, hoping to meet his eyes but he just looks down at your hand, admiring the few rings you wear. “Remarkable?” He whispers back, only flicking his eyes to meet yours when you don’t answer.

How can you answer? Having him close makes it hard to control your breathing but now, he’s holding your hand, and looking at you like that, and you can barely breathe. You’re not sure your heart is beating correctly. Someone page Doctor Shepherd. All you can do is give Spencer a small nod, not sure what else to say to him other than, “Yes.”

A small smile tugs at the corner of Spencer’s lips and his thumb brushes the back of your hand before he lets it go. But you don’t leave yet, you slowly wrap your arms under his and around his upper waist. The two of you embrace one another, silently, passionately. And you can hear his heart beating when your head comes to rest on his chest. Spencer closes his eyes, eyebrows furrowed as he holds you tighter. The feeling of having him so close, the front of his body just shy of being pressed against yours, the way he can smell your hair when he breathes in - it brings a light peace to his heart.

“Thank you.” He mumbles quietly into your hair, not ready to step back or leave your closeness quite yet.

You’re the first to pull away, feeling your throat become dry. But you give him a smile, hoping your bashfulness isn’t too obvious, “Let me know whenever you need reminding.”

“Yeah,” he whispers back, and you have to admit his voice is so soothing when it’s low and raspy like this, “I will.” Spencer’s brown eyes linger on you and he doesn’t try to overthink when he leans in, slowly, cautiously, pressing his lips to your cheek. The kiss is soft but not brief. His lips linger on your cheek for a moment before he steps back, opening his eyes to catch the bashful smile on your lips. It’s quiet for a moment and you feel like you’re about to pass out from it. Thankfully, Spencer speaks up, “You should get some sleep. Today was long.”

“Yeah,” you nod in agreement, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He smiles as you head for the door, “See you tomorrow.”

As you walked from the BAU office, you couldn’t help but smile like an idiot all the way to your car. And when you sat in the driver's seat and locked the doors, you couldn’t help but press a hand to your burning cheek.

[davidmann95]

So RWBY/Justice League is apparently a crossover that's actually going to happen. Of the little we know right now, how do you think that's going to pan out?

Anonymous said: Those questions about Superman and Batman in RWBY seem prescient, because I'm hearing that an official crossover is in the works

Anonymous said: Um, so there's a legit Justice League/RWBY crossover coming

Anonymous said: So, that official DC/RWBY crossover, huh?

Anonymous said: So, how about that DC/RWBY cross, eh?

Anonymous said: No more speculating how Superman would fit into RWBY when DC themselves are providing their own answer XD

The immediate thing that leaps out beyond the Kingdom Hearts* level of utterly out of nowhere berserk this premise is: while the RWBY comic had a couple minor sequel hooks, and I don’t know how it did in its original digital chapters or in trade, as a monthly periodical it was selling poorly enough that DC didn’t bother to print its last physical issue after the return from the Coronavirus shutdown, and while I thought it was great a lot of fans complained about its art and characterization throughout. I hoped for that sequel, sure, but I wasn’t expecting the book to be regarded internally as anything but a sales failure, nevermind not only continuing it but tripling down in the most extreme and bizarrely specific way possible that’s neither intuitive (unless you have special interests like me) nor surface-level ridiculous enough like Batman/Elmer Fudd that people will buy it just to see how it works. I don’t understand why this comic is happening when no one but me wanted this.

(* The Kingdom Hearts comparison is apt because they were similarly close to the top of things I’d love to see cross over with the DCU that would obviously never, ever happen because that’s too precise and random a combination of my interests. Even if this is legally possible where that isn’t, that would still be conceptually simpler.)

I was asked a couple times in the past about how Superman or Batman could make sense in RWBY’s setting, and it turns out I was closer with the latter than the former - that rather than a dimension-hopping traditional crossover, this is reverse-engineering what the assorted members of the League would look like if they had always been part of Remnant ala JLA/Planetary, some of the old DC/Marvel crossovers, or the more recent Batman/The Shadow. Which actually fits really well with the series regularly evoking assorted fairy tales and mythologies with their characters; this bunch is just one more set to be added. Though that raises several more thoughts and questions:

* The solicit refers to them as Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne, and Diana Prince, but will they actually be referred to as such in the story, and will people comment on them not fitting with the color-based naming conventions of that world? Or will they be renamed and evoke their sources purely through iconography, ala Ruby not literally being Little Red Riding Hood?

* How much will the origins of the assorted characters be changed? Batman, Cyborg, and Aquaman would all make perfect sense within the ‘rules’ of the setting with few major alterations, but will Superman still be from Krypton and Green Lantern a space ranger, or will they simply be ordinary humans with thematically reminiscent backstories and Semblances/weapons that evoke the classic powers? I think the latter could work, but I imagine the former is more likely (even if Bennett might keep it vague on some of the details to preserve the aura of mystique and avoid changing the shape of the world too radically) simply because everyone’s surely aware that fans would complain about being ‘ripped off’ for getting the characters ‘in name only’ otherwise.

* Speaking of changes to fit the setting, between being a Faunus and the apparent low-tech traditional armor look of his suit, is Bruce Wayne in here not operating from a position of wealth? You’d just think as a given the Wayne family would be easily plopped in as business rivals to the Schnees and Alfred would be on a first name basis with Klein, but it seems Bennett might have something very different in mind. Also, little disappointing he simply has a katana rather than those collapsible batarangs that turn into swords that Ellis always gave him which would fit perfectly here. And, as so many have already asked: how miserable is he every second of every day in a world where everything is also a gun. At least this isn’t a universe where anyone’s gonna think he’s irresponsible for training teenage sidekicks.

* And if we’re going into individual characters: RWBY Barry Allen is adorable, what the hell. He just looks so dopey and hapless, I sure hope he doesn’t ever have to die to stop the Anti-Monitor. We’re definitely getting a meeting with Harriet that retcons in that he’s the other person with a speed Semblance she mentioned running into, and if he’s tapping into the Speed Force then the jokes that that’s what Harriet does are probably gonna become at least a little bit canon.

* Are the Themyscirans magic, given all magic has a very important common root in this world?

* I don’t think there’s a dud redesign in the bunch? These are all really inspired in their own ways, which is good because unlikely as it seems this is I believe the first time we’ve really gotten any sort of official interpretation of “here’s what the DCU would look like as a Shonen”. Go ahead and say the hell with it and make it Earth 28, I’ve thought before making that an anime Earth would fit with the map.

(By Ag_Nonsuch)

* Bunch of obvious ways these characters can play off of each other: Ruby is paralleled with Wonder Woman on the cover, and I’m curious how Bennett will play that, but she makes most sense next to Flash, a super-fast fan made good, or Superman, a character she so deeply if unintentionally evokes on so many levels I felt I had to make clear when describing her that I didn’t solely appreciate her as a psuedo-Superman analogue. Weiss makes sense up against Batman either as a wealthy heir or a Faunus who’s likely faced his share of pain from the Schees who either way are cold perfectionists defined by inner pain stemming from their families, or Wonder Woman/Aquaman as fellow ‘royalty’. Yang is paralleled with Superman on the cover and that makes sense with the two country bruisers with issues regarding their lost parents, though she’d also make sense with Aquaman as the ‘temperamental’ members a lot of the time of their respective teams, or Cyborg as they both deal with their relationships with their bodies after requiring prosthesis. And Blake pretty much has her pick: like Superman she uses an article of clothing to ‘pass’ and shares the commitment to justice, she and Batman are dark children of privilege (or not in this case, though in this world they’re both Faunus), she and Wonder Woman both left the island homes where their people were safe to try and make the rest of the world better, she and Aquaman are both Faunus royalty, and Green Lantern is about overcoming great fear and in Jessica Cruz’s case specifically about the guilt of running away.

* Will this be entirely flashbacks to the pre-series/Beacon years, or will those be flashbacks set from a ‘present’, and if so when? What happened between the siege of Haven and the train setting off for Argus is the most loosely-defined period in the story and is right on the heels of the end of the original RWBY mini, so I’d imagine it fitting here. And given they apparently join together “to take on a force unlike anything they've seen before” rather than purely the character work of that previous book, what might that be?

* Hey, superhero comics/superpowers as an idea already exist in this universe, will that come up?

* If we can get one single scene in this and it’s going with a “yes they’re still aliens and magic and whatnot” premise I want Clark, who hasn’t thought of being Superman yet and therefore is still at least somewhat hiding his powers, being wracked with guilt over not pursuing becoming a Huntsman and therefore not being there at the Fall of Beacon. Which is a ridiculous thing to take the blame for, but of course he would, he’s Clark, culminating in trying to apologize to JNR for Pyrrha dying he feels in part because he was a coward (when they don’t even have the faintest concept for why he would think he should have been there or could have done anything).

* Once all’s said and done, how is their presence in the world justified as not being a factor in the series proper? It’s simple if they’re ‘ordinary’ analogues who can go off to quietly have adventures elsewhere, but if not then some of them either have to be shuffled off stage or presumably left with their stories incomplete, with a little afterward of “and they went on to be the greatest heroes of all...later, after the scope of team RWBY’s main adventures so that we never have to directly address them again” to avoid them becoming unavoidable major factors in the war against Salem.

In the end, will it be DC’s best comic? No, though I imagine one of their better ones this year. Will it be among the ones I look forward to most each month? Right up there with Yang and Reis’s Batman/Superman baby, this is a miracle freak of fate and I’m gonna appreciate the universe bending over backwards to make entertainment for me and me alone while it lasts. Given I finally checked out RWBY in the first place because I was curious about Bennett’s original comic, this is a heck of a full-circle moment.