#finding out which friends and family members want you dead is always fun.

[queenimmadolla]

𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐞

(A Lisa Frankenstein, Eddie Munson AU)

next ┊ 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Summary: After a series of unfortunate events in your life, and lonelier than ever, you often turn to a dead guy and his tombstone for comfort. Never in your wildest, fucked up dreams did you imagine he’d turn to you for the same thing, but you find yourself hiding a living corpse, bringing him further to life, reaping some justice, and cutting off a lot of body parts all while trying to fit in and falling in love.

a/n: Part One is here! Just want to say thank you to my friends for hearing me rant and rave about Lisa Frankenstein for weeks now, though I’ve been unbearable with this concept in my head. This will be the longest chapter, just to establish some stuff, but we’ll get to the slaying! Hope you love Undead!Zombie!Eddie as much as I do. Happy reading! (p.s.,there will be some romantic smut in a later part)

Chapter warnings: a bit steve harrington x reader, some eddie munson x other female, death of a family member, brief description of SA (bordered with RED DIVIDERS if you’d like to skip), mistreatment of Reader, suicidal ideation (reader just has dark humor), implied murder, very campy, very cunty.

THEN, 1986.

  “Where you head’n too so in a hurry, boy?” Wayne Munson asked, sat on the couch with a mug of steaming hot coffee in one hand and the television remote in the other as he watched his nephew bounce around the trailer, grabbing all of the the items he let haphazardly around. 

  Wayne always told him to pick up his things, but like the rambunctious boy he was, there was no breaking out of his messy habits.

  “I got people to see, pops. Things to do. Trouble to ‘cause, cops to anger, you know the drill.” Eddie didn’t even need to turn around to know his uncle was scowling but he was proven correct when he turned to throw his father figure a shit eating grin over his shoulder, “Kidding, old man. Mom had me baptized when I was a baby, remember? I can do no wrong, like Achilles.” 

  “Wha’?”

  “Ugh, dad. If I have to explain the joke, it ruins it. I’ll be back by dinner, alright?”

  Wayne fixed him with a pointed look, “You best be on your best behavior, you hear me?”

  “Always.” Eddie gave a mock salute before dipping out the front door, still grinning as he tossed the keys of the van and caught them midair. 

  While he wasn’t necessarily going to cause trouble, he certainly would be providing the fun grass, powder and pills that were often behind it. Eddie knew Wayne was aware of what he did, had implied so when talking about how he knew Eddie was a good kid, just living in the wrong circumstances sometimes. Always said he wanted nothing but the best for his boy and for Eddie to realize he was meant for more than what this particular town forced on him. 

  Made Eddie’s chest tight, but seeing things like the broken patio board—Eddie had accidentally stomped through it after seeing a spider—reinforced Eddie’s belief that he’d much rather help out any way he could than let his uncle bear the financial weight of providing for him. 

  The van roared to life, after sputtering for a good seven seconds, and Eddie revved the engine a little. As he let her warm up, something in the side mirror caught his attention. 

  Someone. 

  Sheila. His neighbor in the trailer across the street. She was hauling a box to a car, looked rather heavy and Eddie would have dropped everything to scramble over and help her, had it not been for Mr.Brawn at her side. 

  Eddie watched as the guy, who stole the girl he was in love with right out of his arms, grabbed the box. The two lovers exchanged words which ended with them laughing at something as she followed him to the car.

  He slid the box into the packed car as she climbed into the passenger seat, and before Eddie knew it, he was watching her drive away, right out of his life forever.

  Eddie hadn’t even realized he was clutching his steering wheel so tight, his knuckles were straining against the skin, hot tears pooling at his waterline but he refused to let them fall. He’d shed more than enough tears over her, over what could have been.

  They started off so promising; throwing flirty waves from their bedroom windows, occasionally at school, before she approached him for weed. After that, came the whirlwind romance and Eddie hadn’t considered himself a romantic before—hadn’t had a whole lot of opportunities to make that discovery but he was so fucking romantic. A big sap. And he wasn’t ashamed of it. 

  Until she’d graduated, and he hadn’t. Again. Turns out, not trying at academics all year and then aiming to ace finals wasn’t enough. 

  Suddenly, all the bullshit naive plans they had to run away somewhere far from Hawkins weren’t possible. At least, Sheila couldn’t with Eddie. 

  He lost her to a guy in another band, had made the mistake of taking a piss after he and Corroded Coffin performed to their tiny ass crowd, and had come back to see her talking to the keyboardist of the band that had gone on before them. She looked entranced, leaning forward to hang on to whatever the fuck he was saying. When Eddie had gone over to ask her if she was ready to head out, fully prepared to tuck her under his arm and way from the keyboardist, she’d insisted and told him to his face, in front of his apparent competition, that she was gonna stick around a little longer and he should head out without her.

  He’d spent the entire night pacing in front of his window, glancing out of it every five minutes and every time he heard a pair of wheels turn onto the dirt road. Eddie got his confirmation when his car happened to be one of them. He’d watched, heart splintering, as the keyboardist got out of the car and walked around to open her door for her before they disappeared into her trailer. Eddie knew her dad worked nights. Knew what she and that musician were doing and he’d thrown up the entire contents of his stomach at the imagery before passing out.

  Eddie woke up to Sheila hovering above him and framed by the glow of the bathroom light like some angel. She’d dumped him right there and left the spare key he’d trusted her with on the table.

  And now, she was living her dream with someone else while Eddie got to stick around this shitty town with these people who could barely stand him for no reason (and yeah, okay, maybe he’d poke their buttons). In truth, while he was a little heartbroken over her, it was the fact that she still got her happy ending that hurt the most.

  The girls around Hawkins might have been interested in maybe hooking up with him, but they weren’t interested in being Eddie’s girl. Weren’t interested in falling stupid in love with him, making plans to start a life together. Didn’t want him in their plans.

  Eddie Munson was lonely. And it sucked.

  With a heavy sigh, he cranked on the radio, fingers twisting the volume dial up to the most obnoxious level before shifting the gear to drive.

  “It’ll get better, Munson. Love ain’t no stranger.” He mumbled, sucking on his teeth and pulling out on the road.

  If he had known then where it would lead him, where the night would take him, he would have at least hugged his uncle. It would be the last time he saw him, and it would be the last time Wayne Munson saw his nephew alive.

  Three days later, he’d be identifying and weeping over his boy’s body in the morgue after reporting Eddie missing when he didn’t come home.

  NOW, 1989

  “Where are you going? It’s almost time for breakfast.” Chrissy called out, head poking out from her bedroom as she watched you race down the hall.

  “Not hungry! I’ll be back soon!” You called over your shoulder, the large sheet of craft paper wrinkling in your hand as you took the stairs two at a time before bounding down the short entryway.

  You’d almost crossed the foyer and then slammed yourself back against the wall as you saw Laura, Chrissy’s mom, fiddling with something at the table. She had the radio on, some garbage self help tape spewing nonsense to her, and that condescending smile on her face.

  Yeah, you’d be avoiding her, lest you wish to be verbally and eloquently belittled. How Chrissy came out of her toxic womb to be such a good person, you’d never understand. 

  When Laura crossed into the kitchen, you sprinted for the door, fumbling a little with the knob in your urgency, but once you got it open, you were out, running across the walkway and the fencing around the house until you were in the woods behind it.

  Only then did you feel safe, the trees a welcome reprieve from your living situation, the magnifying glass this new town had you under, and from the world in general.

  You’d come from a small town before Hawkins, so you were used to small town living. But these people were so judgemental. You hadn’t even grabbed a box from the moving van before your neighbors were casting you snide looks, noses turning up and backs to you as they watered their yard and lounged about.

  Four months later, nothing had changed. If anything, they were more open with their disdain for you, commenting on your demeanor (and you were a cool fucking person), outfits, hair, body. It was annoying. They were annoying. EVERYTHING was annoying. 

  You didn’t even want to be there but you had no real choice. You’d graduated high school a couple of years ago and despite the popular teenage notion that you’d simply pack up your things, go to college and be successful at whatever career you wanted, life did not happen like the movies. The freedom you’d been promised by your own delusions never came. That bitch came with a hefty price tag and you weren’t exactly jumping into a safe of gold coins like Scrooge McDuck with your minimum wage job. 

  You’d gotten into several schools of your choice, but scholarships wouldn’t be nearly enough to cover it, and you’d literally have to sell your entire body to science if you wanted to be able to afford the loans you were being offered, since their interest rates were higher than the standard human beings’ lifespan. 

  So, living with the ‘rents was checked off on your list of things you didn’t want to continue doing past your high school graduation. And hey—you were only 19 years-old! You were still young! Just save up a few years, and maybe one day you’d be able to think about taking a loan. You had time. What could possibly go wrong to throw your plans off?

  Your mother was murdered.

  Yeah, that was a bummer. Could’ve been worse, you supposed. You could have died with her, when your home had been broken into, and sometimes you wish you had. Alas, you were still breathing, albeit extremely traumatized. But only good ol’ mom was six feet in the ground, in an entirely different town, because your father had also moved on a mere few months after her death, with the worst woman to leave flaming footprints on the earth’s crust, and they’d eloped after like six dates before moving you to a town where you knew no one.

  Thinking about it actually made you sick and feel a little delusional. 

  The only real good thing about your entire soap opera of a year was the community college you’d been able to enroll in. You had no real idea what you wanted to do in life, had no real drive for career paths, but you were doing something, and that something kept the she-devil that was your stepmother off your back. Most of the time. Some of the time. She couldn’t say you were a deadbeat yet.

  Chrissy, your sweet to a definitive and insensitive fault step-sister had pushed you into going with her for registration. Convinced you it was the perfect way to make some friends. It was hard to say no to Chrissy, she had a way with people and could make the meekest soul feel like they were capable of anything and everything. She could always see the best in people, and she was outgoing. Your time in Hawkins had been brief, but you’d easily gathered Chrissy was popular, a former cheerleader (and she’d successfully tried out for the community college team) and beloved by all. While part of you felt a little jealous at her confidence, you admired her more. She was never intentionally mean to you, either. She made the occasional comment, but it seemed like Chrissy had more so a filter problem, rather than spitting anything out with sugar coated hostility like her mother. Chrissy was...nice. After everything you've been through, you could use a little nice in your life.

  And sometimes nice was also the woods behind your house, as it led to the Hawkins’ Cemetery. 

  Morbid, sure, but you couldn’t help yourself. After a particularly nasty encounter with Laura the first week of your Hawkins sentence, and feeling lonelier than you’d ever felt before, you’d gone for a walk, tears decorating your face with wet trails as you tried to physically hold yourself together, arms wrapped around yourself. 

  You’d arrived at the cemetery, and because you couldn’t pay your mother a visit, you decided the only decent thing to do was visit other lonely souls.

  You’d stopped to pay your respects to just about every tombstone and plaque, but one in particular caught your attention.

  Tucked away in a corner and separate from the other graves, under a weeping willow, was the most damaged tombstone of them all. Parts of it were broken off, a lot of the information pertaining to the individual underneath it was seemingly grated off. You had no idea who it was, the only remaining legible letters were MUN and you figured it was he simply because you’d taken some paper to the tombstone for etching and ran a black crayon over it. You’d been able to make out the word ‘he’ on the paper and deduced it had once read may he rest in peace. 

  The state of his tombstone surprised you, given how recent the date of death was. While his birth date had also been worn away, the year of death—1986–had been left. It was 1989. No way his grave should’ve looked like that.

  Apparently, even the groundskeeper avoided his part of the cemetery. The grass around his grave was overgrown, and pitiful. So, you’d gone home, grabbed the lawn mower, and pushed it all the way over. You’d ended up disgusting, covered in grass, dirt and sweating like a cheater on a Sunday morning, but his grave was looking better. You’d taken to caring for his grave after that. A bunch of your trinkets and things you'd seen that you immediately thought he’d like surrounded him now and you’d even planted some bluebells. 

  He also made surprisingly good conversation, even though he never talked to you. His presence, while mostly imaginary to you, was comforting. 

  So, during any free time you had, you were sat against his tombstone, chatting about your day, life, whatever you wanted. Felt like he was always listening, no matter the subject and it was really lovely to be heard.

  When you arrived at the cemetery, it was practically vacant, with just the red headed girl you normally saw. You didn’t see her all the time, she was just one of the faces you saw the most, and that was only a handful of occasions. For the most part, Hawkins didn’t seem keen on remembering the dead. 

  “Hope you haven’t been lonely without me,” You greeted as you approached his tombstone, ducking under a few low hanging willow branches that still brushed over you anyways. You’d have to ‘borrow’ Laura’s shears soon, the willow tree was hauntingly beautiful around his grave, but you wanted its branches and leaves to frame his grave, not conceal it, “I missed you.”

  It was a little odd, but you did. 

  When you weren’t at his grave, you were thinking about him, trying to put a face to MUN, wondering what his life had been like. Did he have any loved ones? What had his interests been? How had he died? Had he felt as lonely as you did?

  “I know, I know.” You settled onto the grass in front of his tombstone, securing the craft paper to his tombstone with some masking tape, “I was just here last night.” You imagined he would say.

  “I just can’t stay away from you. You have a very intriguing aura: I can’t see it because you’re dead, and that makes me want to know you more.” You pulled a black crayon from your pocket and went about scribbling on the paper, over where you knew MUN would be etched in stone, “I’ve said it a million times, and you’ve probably turned over in your coffin repeatedly because of it, but you’re the only one who understands me. And you’re the only one here that I care about—probably in the whole world actually, except maybe Chrissy but I know her friends think I’m weird, and I don’t want to drag her down with me.”

  Once the letters appeared on the paper, you sprawled out STER and you dropped the crayon to produce a pretty hot pink marker from your pocket instead, signing your name with a little heart to go with it just above the last name you’d crafted for him.

  The odds of this dude being a Munster were slim to none, but you thought it was fitting for someone who lived in a cemetery.

  You sat back on your haunches to admire it, it was a cute piece. Would look nice on your wall and whenever you missed him and found yourself longing to be near his grave, all you’d have to do is turn on your side and you'd be able to see part of him. 

  You ripped the paper off his tombstone, and weighed it down on the grass with a rock. With that out of the way, you gave him your full attention, shuffling until your head and shoulder were leaning against the stone, “Would you wanna be dragged down with me? Be seen with me? I’m somewhat of a pariah around here. Did you have better luck when you were still kicking?”

  You figured with how fucked up his tombstone had been, probably not. You imagined he’d confirm it, too. Just out right say, ‘Nah, these assholes hated me.’

  “Yeah, looks like we’re two peas in a pod.” Then you glanced down, fingers, twirling the blades of grass over his grave, “Or, you know. Casket.”

  You let silence fall over you, broken only by the chirping of birds in surrounding trees.

  “Goddamit, why do you have to be dead?” Your eyelids fluttered close, and instead of the cold stone, you imagined your head pressed against a warm chest, rising and falling with breaths, and a heartbeat thumping strong below your ear, pushing blood throughout his body. Imagined he was alive, arms slipping around you, firm and strong to hold you together so you didn't have to anymore.

  But he wasn’t, and you were reminded when the groundskeeper shouted, “HEY!”

  You shot up, glancing around until you saw him by the entrance with a leaf blower, “YOU AWAKE?”

  What kind of a dumbass question was that? Sure, it had looked like you were asleep but you were clearly alert now.

  “YEAH!” You shrieked back to be heard, and he went back to not caring. 

  “He can see me leaning against your tombstone, but he can’t see overgrown grass, weeds, rocks, or your grave in general when I’m not here. Men, always so selective, amirite?”

  You glanced at the stone, half expecting it to respond. “Eh, what do you know, you’re just a man, too.” You reached your arm back, knuckles trailing over MUN.

  “Despite you mouthing off to me most of the time, I brought you something.” You reached into your other pocket and pulled out a necklace, lined with black pearls and a cross pendant. It had been your mother’s. While she had a pension for religion, it wasn’t something you thought about. Dying, sure, but whatever afterlife? Not so much. Felt wrong, sometimes, to carry it around with you—felt like you were disrespecting her a little bit to not believe what she did, even though she had no qualms with it when she was alive. So, you figured why not trust it with the other important person in your life?

  “Pretty, huh? It was my mom’s. She’s dead, like you. You wouldn’t happen to have seen her around, would you?” You joked, fingers stroking over the pearls. There was no risk in leaving them with your dead friend, people avoided him and you had a feeling even grave robbers wouldn’t dare step near the willow, so they’d probably be with him for the rest of eternity, “I want you to have them, take care of them for me.”

  You placed the necklace over the peak of his tombstone, smiling when they didn’t fall from their place, “Mm, you look good in them. Better than I do, I’m not big on pearls. More of a silver jewelry kind of girl. I could do gold and diamonds, though, only for a wedding ring.”

  You held your arm out, admiring your ring hand void of any actual rings, “Nothing too gaudy, of course. That’s what my earrings are for.” 

  Your eyes trailed from your outstretched fingers, to your wrist, and the watch decorating it. The time made you heave a heavy sigh, “I gotta go. Chrissy’s dragging me to a party tonight, so I’ve got to mentally prepare for that. You’ll think of me while I’m away, won’t you?”

  Trailing a finger down the stone, you leaned forward to press your lips to it in a sweet kiss. 

  “I’ll be back soon, and this time I won’t forget my book of sonnets. I know how much you love the cynical poems I force on you.”

  And though you announced your departure, you found it hard to leave him, like you always did. It took all you had to gather your crayon, marker, and your new poster (and you kept dropping all three to have an excuse to linger) and leave the cemetery behind, glancing back impulsively every couple of steps until it was no longer in view, and the moment it wasn’t you wanted to drop everything and run back to him.

  You had to remind yourself he was a stranger, who didn’t care for you, rotting in the ground. And it sucked. 

  “I don’t wanna go.” You announced, staring into the bathroom mirror you shared with Chrissy. You’d just finished your makeup, eyes heavily lined, and lashes coated an electric blue that made your eyes pop. You were always a little heavy handed with your makeup, you figured the whole point of it was to use it as you wanted. Your hair had been manipulated to hell and back, but regardless of what you did, you were unsatisfied with the girl staring back at you, “I’ll just stay home.”

  “Not on my watch!” Chrissy declared, reaching in front of you for her pink lipstick. The bathroom counter was littered with your combined beauty products, “This is the first major rager of the year, the perfect social gathering. You need to meet people, sissy.” 

  You scowled at the idea, “I have met people.”

  Chrissy tubed the lipstick bullet, rubbing her lips together as she gave you a concerned side-eye, “People who like you, sissy.”

  Ouch, there’s that brutal honesty.

  “It’s not good for you to be on your own all the time,” She set the lipstick down so she could place a dainty hand on your shoulder, big blue eyes focused on you, “I worry about you. Daddy and mom worry about you. Your doctor worries about you. You need to get out more.” Chrissy stressed, pink lips pulling into a reassuring smile before she went back to focusing on the mirror and her makeup.

  You let out a heavy sigh, mulling her words over. Definitely could have been phrased better, but Chrissy was right. You were currently the town recluse, and occupying your room and the town cemetery wouldn’t change that. 

  “That blush isn’t the right shade for you, sissy.” Chrissy broke you from your thoughts and your eyes drifted back over to your reflection, the girl looking so unsure and right back at you, “You really have to accentuate your features, compliment them, because you’re already beautiful.” 

  Didn’t feel like it.

  Your expression must have given your inner thoughts away because Chrissy turned to you again, practically bouncing, “Wait a minute, you could use my tanning bed!”

  You deadpanned at the mention of the ridiculous full on salon tanning bed that Chrissy owned. There was a dedicated mini garage in the backyard for it, next to the pool, and complete with neon lights, her beauty pageant trophies and sashes as well as her cheer trophies. The PG&E bill was always through the roof for the Tan Shack alone, and you still had no idea how Laura could afford it.

  “No, Chrissy I-I don’t think that would work on me. At all.”

  Chrissy waved off your concerns, “It’s not about the tan, or even if you can tan. It’s the experience. When I lay in that tanning bed, with those little goggles on my eyes and I can hear the buzzing, I feel myself blooming. Regardless of whether or not my skin actually tans,” It didn’t. Chrissy burned but she somehow still looked good, “I feel amazing about myself.”

  “Are you sure that’s not cancer?”

  “You’re so funny!” Chrissy laughed even though you were being serious, “Sissy, every girl deserves to feel beautiful. If I can provide you with an experience that might raise those confidence levels that are dragging across a nail-covered floor right now, why wouldn’t I?”

  Your eyebrows furrowed, trying to decipher if that was a compliment or not, but you didn’t have long to mull it over before Chrissy was framing your face with her hands. 

  “And I can. Please, let me do this.”

  You groaned, long and drawn out and awkward, before squeezing your eyes shut and slowly nodding your head. She squealed, clapped her hands together and dragged you out of the bathroom.

  After explaining how it all worked, Chrissy bid you a cheerful goodbye and left you to your own devices so she could finish getting ready for the night ahead of you both.

  You’d selected your tan level, positive you wouldn’t see any real results but maybe the ‘experience’ would benefit you and shed your fuzzy slippers and robe, leaving you in some boy shorts and a tank top as you tried to settle yourself in the tanning bed. The dip was awkward, and you couldn’t get a good grasp on the top of the tanning bed since it was meant to only open and close rather than stay in position so grasping onto it for balance as you lowered yourself in led to you conking yourself on the head with a noticeable bonk.

  You hissed in pain, rubbing the sore area as you clambered the rest to the way in. Once you’d stretched your legs out, lowered the top, maneuvered the goggles over your face and waited for the magic to happen as you were surrounded by neon blue lights.

  You heard the buzzing as the tanning bed started up. The magic happened alright. The entire tanning bed shocked you, and you shrieked as you felt the intense electric current ripple throughout your body, sparking every single pore in the worst way possible.

“I’m so sorry you got electrocuted, sissy.”

  Chrissy broke the silence as you sulked in the passenger seat, your hair a little bigger than normal and not a result of styling. After getting all five senses shocked out of you, you’d come out with a hairdo that would not usually be up to par with you, and some serious case of static electricity. You’d tried to gently press your hair down and when you saw a literal spark in it, you decided to just leave it alone.

  Your step-sister had been apologizing since.

  “It’s alright. I survived.” And you wanted to forget about it. 

  You could see Chrissy glancing nervously at you from the corner of your eye as she drove you to the party location.

  “So…how are you liking Hawkins Community, so far?” She asked, thankfully changing the subject. 

  “It’s fine. The campus looks relatively the same as the community college I toured in my old town. Classes are decent.” Pitiful. The classes were so boring and straight out of the book, but it cost you a fraction of a fraction of what you’d have to pay to attend a university. 

  Chrissy lips turned up in a mischievous smile and you internally groaned, fully expecting her next question.

  “See any cute boys?” And then, as an afterthought, “Or…girls?” Then she took her eyes off the road again, squinting at you as if she was trying to assess something, “Or…..anyone?” 

  You betrayed yourself, eyes darting to the window before they were back on her and she perked up in the driver’s seat. 

  “Okay, spill.”

  Your heart started thumping wildly in your chest as one particular guy came to mind, but you hadn’t thought about him too much. Hadn’t allowed yourself to entertain the idea of a romance with him. That’s how people got their hopes up and letdown.

  “Sissy! Sissy, come on. You have to tell me. I’m your only friend!” 

  This time, you could tell she was joking, even though she did have merit. You bit your lip as she ribbed you a bit more, the corners of your lips tugging up into a smile. 

  “Okay, okay!” Your hands flew to cover your face, embarrassed, shy and a little giddy all at once to actually be admitting you had a crush. 

  “Steve Harrington.”

  “STEVE HARRINGTON?” She repeated, incredulous and you shushed her even though it was only you two in the car.

  “Sissy, that’s so unexpected! I haven’t really seen him since high school but I didn’t think he’d be your type.” Chrissy admitted with a shrug of her shoulders.

  “He works in the library.” You sighed out, recalling your brief interactions with him when checking out a couple of books. He’d been kind, made a couple of humorous comments about the titles, and always tried to meet your avoidant gaze, which meant he was being nice to you. Coaxing you out of your shell. You actually didn't have much trouble interacting with people, you were more abrasive than you ever were shy, Steve was just a little too easy on the eyes. Made you forget how to talk, and on occasion, walk. It was embarrassing, “Always makes those cute displays with recommendations.”

  “Good for him,” She commented, sounding impressed. “I didn’t really know he was intellectual. Wasn’t, the last I heard. Had a big reputation in high school, seemed kind of mean and everyone called him King Steve.”

  You frowned, feeling the need to protect him, “Didn’t they call you the Queen of Hawkins High?”

  “Yeah, but only to make me seem pretentious.” 

  You raised your eyebrows, glancing away. Chrissy was kind, but sometimes, she could be pretentious.

  “And anyways, I’m not a student at Hawkins High anymore, so they can’t call me that. Maybe Steve really did change. Come to think of it, I haven’t heard much about him since he struck out with a series of girls. Maybe he took a good look at himself and decided a change was needed.” You could feel her eyes on you again. 

  “Does he flirt with you?”

  “No.”

  “See him flirt with any girls?”

  “Nope.”

  “Does he still make his hair all big and poofy?”

  “Looks more voluminous than poofy.”

  Chrissy hummed, “An improvement. Is he all beret wearing and drinking coffee now?”

  You tried to recall ever seeing him in a hat, let alone a beret, “No, I don’t think so. If anything, he’s introspective.”

  “He’s on the spectrum?”

  Your smile waned when you realized she was asking a legitimate question, “Oh. No. That’s—that’s not what that means. I just meant he’s thinking about what he does; how he acts, how he behaves.”

  It got quiet for a few moments.

  ”Well,” Chrissy broke the silence once more, “He might be there tonight. I’m not sure if they’re still friends, but Tommy Hagan is hosting tonight, and once upon a time, they were inseparable.”

  You made a sound of acknowledgment, upper lip twitching in disgust. You knew Tommy, saw him around campus. He was a big jerk, you’d witnessed him throw some guy’s backpack in the trash and pour his drink on it. You wish you’d known it was his party you were going to in advance. Tommy was a nasty piece of work, so his friend group was the same. Out of all of them, though, Carol got on your nerves the most. 

  She didn’t pay you a whole lot of attention, but when you were walking in with Chrissy—and this is Chrissy, so she acknowledged everyone—and she said hi, Carol would just look you up and down before pursing her big mouth like she’d sucked on something sour. One day, you’d like to give her your fist to suck on.

  ”Patrick McKinney is bringing three kegs and I heard Reefer Rick is bringing his whole inventory.”

  “Reefer Rick?”

  “Yeah, he’s the local drug dealer now. I mean, he’s always been but he used to have somebody sell for him while he supplied, but he died.”

  Your eyes widened while your pupils dilated, mind conjuring up some image of a poor dude being murdered for drugs and then the supplier just taking over, not fearful at all of meeting the same fate, “He died?”

  Chrissy nodded her head, looking thoughtful, “Yeah, Eddie Munson.”

  Munson.

  You sat up in your seat, fully alert and invested in the conversation now, “Eddie Munson? Is he buried under the willow tree in the cemetery?”

  You stared at Chrissy, willing her to think faster as she squinted and pursed her lips, “I think Tina mentioned something about someone peeing on a tree over there, so I think so.”

  Your mouth dropped open, expression utterly horrified that someone could do that, “That’s beastly, what the fuck?”

  “I know,” Chrissy sighed with a shake of her head. “I didn't know him all that much, bought some weed off of him a couple of times and he seemed a little scary—appearance and mannerism wise—but he seemed nice when you had to interact with him. He didn’t deserve that.”

  “How did he die?” You asked, voice small and heart shrinking. You didn’t like where this was going. Didn’t like it one bit.

  “Well, the official determination, if I remember right, was like a drug deal gone bad or something, but no one really believes it. He was known to have weed on him, kept the harder stuff somewhere else. Everyone knows he was murdered. They did a number on him, it was all everyone could talk about because Sydney Porter couldn’t even get her dad—he worked at the station—to show her pictures. He told her they messed Eddie up bad. People here really didn’t like him. No one knows who did it though.”

  You sunk back into your seat, mind troubled and stomach turning. This whole time, you'd been tending to and caring for the grave of a murdered guy, taken from this world simply because people didn’t like him. He must have been so lonely. So scared. And they killed him.

  Chrissy was wrong. People in this town knew who killed him, because one of them, or some of them, had to have been his murderers.

  Your fingers curled into tight fists, painted nails digging into the flesh of your palms. Chrissy noticed the change in your demeanor.

  “Oh, sissy. You’re such an empath. Don’t be so sad, I know it’s a horrible story, but he’s resting now. In peace.”

  “No, he’s not. They fucked up his tombstone. He can’t even be dead in peace.” You huffed, furious on his behalf.

  “How do you know?” Chrissy asked, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow. 

  “I go there a lot, it’s nice. Quiet. A little creepy, but that adds to its charm, makes it relatively peaceful. I’ve been visiting all the graves, but I was drawn to him the most. Etched his tombstone. He’s my favorite.”

  Despite the horrors you’d learned, the thought of Mun—Eddie, still brought a wistful smile to your lips. Maybe your presence was enough to settle him, bring him a little bit of peace this town and the people in it refused to give him.

  “H-He’s your favorite…?”

  “Yeah. I feel this….connection with him. From the very first time I visited. Now, I leave him gifts, flowers, pretty stones, poems I wrote, a book of sonnets I stole from the library.”

  “You….should talk to your doctor about this, Sissy. That’s really weird. That’s really weird, sissy.”

  You fought to not roll your eyes. As much as you cared about Chrissy, and knew she cared about you, she didn’t understand you. 

  “Well, since people ruined his grave, I thought it might be nice to clean it up and make sure he’s not forgotten.” You snapped, “It’s not like I call him my boyfriend or anything.”

  Chrissy eyed you skeptically, “Well, then that’s nice of you, I guess. Just don’t go around telling everybody about that, or you’ll be known as the Ghost Whisperer.”

  “He hasn’t talked back to me yet.”

  Chrissy laughed, and freed one hand off the wheel to lightly slap your arm, “See, now that’s funny. If you do tell anyone, end it with that joke. You’ll be a riot.”

  You smirked, staring out the front windshield. You’d let her think it was a joke. For now.

  You made a sound of displeasure as Chrissy pulled into a clear space on the grass and parked. She jumped out to dance over to her friends, some wine coolers cradled in a plastic bag she clutched.

  You allowed yourself a full minute to stew in your misery before getting out of the car and following after her. As you neared her group, you quickly realized that was a bad idea. 

  “Oh my GOD! Vickie, you fixed your teeth! They look so good. I wasn’t gonna say anything because I thought you were happy with the overcrowding, but now that you fixed it, I can’t look away!”

  Yeesh. You beelined away from them and wandered around the crowded front lawn, dodging rowdy friend groups and couples until you spotted a cooler.

  Maybe a drink would calm you down.

  You squatted down and popped the lid, digging around the ice but all you spotted were Pepsi and Squirt cans.

  “The liquid fun is inside.” A guy’s voice came from behind you and you rolled your eyes. You were so not in the mood to be hit on right now. 

  “What?” You asked, tone bored, but you didn’t want to make him seem helpful so you grabbed a Squirt.

  “Alcohol. He keeps it inside.”

  You slammed the cooler shut and popped the tab of the can, rising to your feet, “Yeah, I figured that mu—shhhh.”

  Oh, shit. 

  Steve Harrington was standing before you, eyes alight with mirth as he smirked down at you.

  You swallowed hard, hoping to god your tongue hadn’t gone down with the movement. See? Here you went getting all stupid around him.

  ”Funny seeing you here.”

  You laughed nervously, “Yeah. I—uh, mhm.” You forced yourself to take a drink of your soda to keep from making an even bigger fool of yourself.

  “Sorry if it’s weird of me to just walk up to you. I was chilling on the side of the house and thought I saw you, but I’m a little nearsighted and I didn’t bring my glasses.”

  You pulled the can away from your mouth as your brain registered the lack of metal frames on the bridge of his nose. He looked handsome with and without them, that wasn’t fair. It was still throwing you off. 

  “It’s—It’s okay. Uhm, no harm done.” You shrugged your shoulders, hoping it looked cool and not as stiff as you felt. You even added in a smile with some teeth for a little razzle dazzle.

  “I actually came over here to tell you your books are significantly overdue.” Steve deadpanned, tongue playing with his canine tooth as he scrutinized you and you shrunk, smile falling from your face. You had got to get better at following up on your due dates.

  “Oh.”

  He scoffed, face breaking out into a grin as his shoulders shook with his chuckles “I’m kidding.”

  OH, THANK FUCK. 

  “Oh,” And then, because every god probably hates you, you started snorting with laughter. You cut that shit quick, clearing your throat as you took another sip of your beverage.

  “So,” Steve took a step closer to you, “Are you enjoying─”

  “Hey!” Carol stepped right up to Steve, practically leaning all over him as her ruby red lips spread into a seductive smile, eyes lidded and no doubt a few drinks in with a drink for Steve in her hand. For the billionth time that night, you rolled your eyes, trying not to gag at how desperate she was. You knew Tommy had recently dumped her, the entire town knew and now she was clearly trying to get into Steve’s pants, “I found the keg.”

  She could eat shit, his pants were yours.

  “Oh, Thank you.” Came Steve’s bleak reply and part of you thought he might have actually wanted to talk to just you. Now, you were really annoyed she’d interrupted.

  “Hey, Carol.”

  Carol looked surprised that you’d even dare speak to her, raising her eyebrows, “Hey. Hi— sorry, how do we know each other?”

  “You’re my lab partner.” You were unimpressed, you expected her to be a better mean girl. 

  “Yay me.” The smile she directed at you was anything but friendly, reminding you of the one Laura would make after you did something in public she didn’t like, but she couldn’t yell at you until you were home. Carol swirled the liquid in her cup around, head tilting as she offered it to you, “You wanna sip, partner?”

  “Carol.” Steve warned and she tutted, flicking her wrist.

  “You’re right, I don’t know why I assumed she partied.”

  “I’ll take a beer,” You could handle alcohol, had cleared your mother’s wine cabinet after she was murdered, so this would be no big deal.

  Carol looked annoyed but handed you the cup, and to make sure you wouldn’t gag and vomit, you threw it back, throat opening as you swallowed the liquid as fast as you could to refuse it as much time on your taste buds as possible.

  When you lowered the cup, you realized you’d made a mistake and glanced into it at the small amount left behind, watching as the ground in your peripheral view began to shift.

  Steve seemed to realize something was wrong, quickly taking your cup and ingesting what was left. His suspicions were confirmed and he spat it out on the grass before scowling at Carol, “PCP? Really, Carol? What the fuck is wrong with you? Why the hell would you give that to her!?”

  “Oopsie.”

  But it was too late for you. You dropped the soda can in your other hand and lifted your hands to your face, watching the lines around your palms and fingers begin to move, swirling around and you backed away from them, watching as everything around you began to come undone.

  “Hey!” You heard a voice next to you and someone started rubbing your back, you hadn’t even realized you were crouching. You craned your head up to see Chrissy and you frowned. Her voice was so different, distorted. She sounded more like your dad than Chrissy. 

  Her face was both far away and right in front of you, you reached a hand out to test the theory, see if it really was close. Chrissy caught your wrist, frowning at the state you were falling into.

  Chrissy started asking you questions, about what you’d taken, what you drank but her voice was too loud for you, and the purple behind her head was distracting. Still, you nodded your head.

  At your confirmation, Chrissy’s frown intensified and she helped you to the ground before darting over to chew Steve and Carol out.

  You couldn’t stay on the grass for long, the blades of it stabbing you and sending pain shooting up your palms and into your bones so you crawled some distance away before you managed to push yourself up and stumble towards the house. It was hard.

  Everything was moving. You heard a loud sound and glanced around wildly until you were staring up at the sky, mouth dropping open to see green clouds and lightning. 

  You had to get away, the need to escape, be safe was urgent but it felt like the closer you got to the front door, the farther away it went. Your breathing was heavy and panicked as you kept stumbling forward, arm outstretched and finally you reached it.

  You yanked it open and nearly fell inside, tripping over your feet until you hit the back of the couch and used it to sink to the floor.

  You heard your name being called and lifted your head, eyes crazed as you tried to find the source. Fred Benson approached you, the skinny boy squatting to be eye level with you.

  “You okay?” He asked and you reached forward, grasping his face in your hand and squeezing to make sure he was a real person.

  “You.” Was all you said, booping his nose but still suspicious of him. Was he real?

  “Uh, yeah. It’s me. It’s Fred, we sit next to each other in ASL class.”

  He looked like Fred. You still didn’t believe he was human, squinting as your hands grasped at the back of the couch.

  “You don’t look so good,” Fred pushed the frame of his glasses up his nose, brows furrowed in concern, “Let's find somewhere for you to sit down for a minute. Or maybe a while. Man, what did you drink?”

  He stood up, offering you a hand and you took it but didn’t pull yourself up. Fred heaved with all his might and managed to get you on your feet but he realized just walking you wouldn’t be enough, and so did you because you draped yourself over him, one arm over his scrawny shoulders.

  Fred cursed under his breath but held your weight, leading you out of the populated living room and you watched a couple furiously make out on the couch cushions as you passed.

  “I hate parties. I don’t know why I came—well, actually I do. I never got invited to these in high school, so I guess I’m living out my fantasy now. In all honesty, I’d much rather be watching Weird Science. So far tonight, I’ve seen three cheerleaders throw up and a baby being conceived.”

  “Uh huh,” Was all you could get out, watching people swirl past you like shooting stars.

  “Would you count that as escaping the teen pregnancy statistic? I know they’re out of high school, but we’re all still pretty young.” He commented as he led you up the stairs. You tripped several times and almost sent him flying down them but the two of you managed to make it. 

  Fred was heaving by the time you'd shouldered him into the hallway wall, his face and hands clammy.

  ”Good god, how did I pass P.E.?” The two of you paused there until he regained his breath while you plastered yourself against the wall, cheek pressed to it and hands stroking over the wallpaper. Eventually, Fred peeled you off of it and kept moving until he could find a place to put you.

  “You like movies right? Got any favorite directors? Or favorite films?”

  “Wall.”

  “Huh? Oh, you’re just admiring the wallpaper.”

  “Great Wall of China.”

  Fred positioned you against the wall, looking a little annoyed. You didn’t care, could only focus on the framed photo of the Great Wall of China directly across from you.

  “Oh.” Was all he said when he spotted it. “Stay right here.”

  Then he disappeared and you watched as the painting came to life, and the stones of the wall began moving, rippling. You didn’t even know stones could move like that but now it made so much more sense. 

  Fred appeared again, tugging you along into an empty room. You spotted a trash can and nearly threw Fred into the bedroom wall as you dove for it, retching everything out of your stomach. You could hear Fred gagging, but he was decent enough to make sure your hair stayed out of your way. When you were done, he helped sit you up on the bed, and nearly collapsed next to you.

  ”We did it,” he cheered with no real gusto. And you sat there, still feeling the earth orbiting. It was the most odd sensation, you could feel a spot on your brain pulsing, like a migraine but it felt so euphoric to close your eyes.

  “Here,” They snapped right back open and you glanced to your side to see Fred offering you a handkerchief. Of course Fred Benson carried around a handkerchief. How amusing. 

  “Thank you,” You gave the three versions of him you could see right then a smile and used the handkerchief to wipe your mouth, eyelids fluttering close just as the sound of thunder filled the room, and a flashing of lightning accompanied it.

  “Huh, a rainless thunderstorm, looks like the angels are bowling.” You heard him muse next to you.

  And it brought another smile to your face, “My mom used to say that.”

  At the mention of her, your brain conjured up all the happy feelings and memories of her, huddled on your couch, in your old home watching black and white horror films. They didn’t scare her, so she could tolerate them. You missed her. She made you feel so light, so seen, so—no.

  Something was wrong. Something felt very, very wrong.

  Your smile faded and you felt your belly sink as you opened your eyes.

  “Does that feel good?”

  You didn’t want to, but you looked down to see Fred’s hand on your breast. Your breathing picked up and Fred let go of you to grab your wrist and force you to touch his crotch, “Well don’t just sit there, help me out. Finish what you started.” 

  Anger filled you and you yanked your hand away, “No.”

  Fred opened his mouth as you got up, rushing away from him and stumbling back out the way you remembered while he yelled at you.

  You had to get out, had to get away. Had to be safe, feel safe. You banged against walls as you went, desperate to get out of the house, away from Fred, from everyone, and to safety. That was your only concern as the drug really hit you.

  All you could remember was seeing colors, hearing and feeling the wind against your sweaty skin, leaves blowing with it and gusting around you.

  You had no idea how you escaped the mad house, how long you’d even been walking or how you actually got there, but you found yourself in front of the cemetery, a flash of lightning illuminating the gate.

  To anyone else, a cemetery would have been the worst place to find themselves on a night like this, but you’d already been to hell so you trudged forward, feet taking you to him. Even in your drugged state, you were able to find your way to Eddie. Always would be.

  Your knees dug into the grass as you collapsed in front of his tombstone, fingers reaching forward to trace over MUN and 1986 before your body curled around the large stone, hugging yourself to it. Electric blue tears slipped down your cheeks, staining them with your mascara.

  “I wish I was with you.” You whispered, hating everything, hating this town, hating the people, hating Fred Benson, hating Carol, hating Laura Cunningham, hating how your mom wasn’t alive, hating how the one person you’d unknowingly sought for comfort was someone you’d never met before who was six feet under the ground. And you hated how you weren’t down there.

  You laid there, hugging his tombstone for hours under the thunder and lightning as the PCP slowly left your system.

  When you were able to stand up on your own, you gave the tombstone another kiss, rested your forehead against it and quietly thanked him for helping you find your way home before you left, following the path you’d made during all of your visits.

  The house was quiet when you got in, and Chrissy’s car hadn’t been parked in the driveway when you’d walked up so you figured she was still at the party. Sluggishly, you made your way up the stairs, falling into your shared bathroom. Your hand searched the wall, struggling to find the switch. Once your fingertips made contact with it, you flipped it and squinted as the room was flooded with the warm light. It was still too much for your eyes but you kept it on and walked towards the mirror

  The girl looking back at you was not the same one you’d last seen in it. This girl had blue smudged all around her eyes, faint trails of it over her cheeks and a rats nest for hair. Her eyes burned, not from the light, but from a fury within. 

  She was stuck in a life she didn’t want to live and couldn’t do anything about. As a large strike of lightning flashed from the window positioned at the back of the bathroom, towards the back of the house, you decided to put her out of her misery, picking up a blow dryer and smashing it against your reflection with a yell.

  You stood there, chest heaving as you stared at the broken reflection. Then you tossed the blow dryer onto the counter, and went to bed.

  Your dreams were much more pleasant than your reality, eyelids fluttering open to the ceiling of your old bedroom. A glance to your side confirmed your mother’s photo was at your bedside, next to your alarm clock on your old bedside table.

  “Well?” Her photo asked, shooting you that gorgeous smile of hers, “What are you waiting for? Go get him.”

  Your confusion was momentary, your mother raised her chin in a direction and you knew what would happen, you were giddy for it as you looked down to see yourself wrapped in the most beautiful wedding gown you’d ever seen.

  You rose from the bed into a sitting position, picking up the bouquet on the pillow next to you. Your dresser mirror was directly across from your bed and you took a moment to admire the beautiful girl staring back at you. Where you last remember seeing trails of tears were diamonds, glittering against your skin. Her eyes sparkled with a joy you’d never known. You bid her one last smile as you turned your head to the figure sitting on the edge of your bed, dark curls cascading down his neck, past broad shoulders with his back to you. 

  His right arm was out, palm up.

  He was waiting for you.

  You shifted until you were on the edge of your bed next to him, staring straight forward just as he was.

  Without looking, you knew exactly where his hand was, and you placed your left one over it, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. Slowly, the two of you leaned towards each other, until your head was on his shoulder and his cheek was pressed against the top of your head, his fingers curling around your hand to ground you. You sighed, all the tension and weight of the world leaving you.

  “Sissy. . .”

  “Sissy…”

  “SISSY!”

  You groaned as Chrissy shook you awake, eyes prying through all the mascara that had crusted over your eyes. It took a couple of blinks until you regained your clear vision, gaze locking on Chrissy leaning over you. Her face was clean of any makeup, skin glowing and hair wrapped up in rollers.

  She’d gotten home later than you and had still been able to look perfect. 

  What the hell?

  “You better get up, sissy. My mom’s losing it over the bathroom mirror.”

  You were confused for a second until you remembered smashing it with a blow dryer last night—or this morning. Well, it definitely would have broken at the sight of you now, anyways. 

  You frowned but made no move to get up so Chrissy tugged your blanket off of you, giggling when the both of you realized you had your hand in your underwear. Hastily, you yanked it out, and threw the blankets back over yourself.

  “It’s okay, Sissy. Everyone does it. It’s natural.”

  “Oh my god…”

  “So, what happened last night to bring this on?” She wiggled her eyebrows and you stared at her for a second. Part of you wanted to yell at her, berate her for letting you stumble around while high on a drug you’d never taken before, the other half knew in Chrissy’s World, it was all rainbows and sunshine—at least, it had been since she’d forced her mother to respect her boundaries. Chrissy didn’t expect the worst in anyone, didn't expect anyone to take advantage of you and certainly didn't expect you to wind up walking to the cemetery and then home on a bad trip. No, in Chrissy’s World, you’d probably spent the night flirting with someone, probably Steve, maybe fooled around in his car before he drove you home.

  You didn’t see it necessary to shatter her world so you groaned instead, the full force of your migraine hitting you now that you were out of sleep’s clutches, and covered your hands with your face.

  “Ooh, your knees…”

  You glanced down to see what she was staring at and sure enough, your knees were scratched up from kneeling at Eddie’s grave, but in Chrissy’s World…

  “I fell.” Was the only excuse you could come up with and Chrissy smirked.

  “Me, too.” Her eyelid dropped in a wink just as Laura yelled upstairs for you, so, begrudgingly, you wrapped yourself in your robe and headed downstairs to receive your punishment.

  Just as you suspected, Laura had attacked you with allegations—that were true for once, you had smashed the bathroom mirror—and your dad looked like he could care less.

  “You know,” She stated, fixing you with those unnaturally blue eyes of hers, “Your dad wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. See the good in you, but I knew. I’m an Intuitive Person, you know. An IP. They’ve got seminars for people like me.”

  Your mind flashed to How to Handle a Narcissist. 

  “Laura…” Your dad warned and Laura inhaled sharply, displeased that your dad was sticking up for you. For once. 

  “Did you know there was a tornado last night? It hailed. Wind blew the fence over. The yard is covered in debris, and now I have to focus on repairing the bathroom, too. I don’t think that’s fair.” She huffed and Chrissy spoke up from her place on the couch.

  “It was a tornado watch, mom. Not a real tornado.”

  “Actually, Chris, the weather was downright crazy last night. I mean, it was really something, I saw green lightning. Big balls of it in the sky.”

  You and Chrissy shared secret smiles at hearing your dad talk about big balls.

  “Love muffin, could you swap out being a weatherman for being a father, right now?” Laura gritted out through her chemically whitened teeth.

  “It’s a Meteorologist,” You mumbled and her head snapped over to glare at you before she was speaking to your father again.

  “Honey, your daughter is a vandal. She’s got a taste for vandalism, and she is deliberately vandalizing and destroying property. First, it was my collection of Precious Moments figurines─”

  “That was an accident, you didn’t wrap them in bubble wrap and I dropped the box when I tripped over the front steps.”

  “Mother,” Chrissy chided, hands crossing over her robe. “Be. Nice.”

  “I am being nice,” Laura hissed, glare never leaving you, “But I refuse to coddle her. She’s headed straight to the nut house with this behavior.”

  You frowned, wiping away some of the dried mascara under your eye, “Can you say that if you’re a Psych Nurse?”

  Laura had the decency to look embarrassed before whacking your father’s arm. He sighed, putting his newspaper down, “Sweetheart─”

  You clocked the twitch in Laura’s eyelid at the affectionate name your father used to refer to you.

  “─You’re gonna clean your bathroom, alright? Sweep up all that glass.”

  ”And?” Laura pushed, still staring at you.

  “And…..um. Pay for the mirror, I guess.” Laura turned her nose up, hurmphing. 

  “That’s fine, can I get ready for work now?”

  Your dad nodded and Laura looked like she wanted to protest but you turned your back to her and made your way upstairs, hesitating at the top when your fathered turned the volume of the TV back on and you heard the news reporter reporting from the cemetery, talking about a grave, under a tree, that had been struck by lightning. 

  You wondered if it had been Eddie’s. There’s no way you’d be able to check today, you’d get home from work too late, so you’d have to check tomorrow.

  You tried to stay busy during your shift at the local tailor’s. You didn’t really have a passion for it, but you were relatively good with a needle and thread. With the magnifier headlamp, you were practically unstoppable, altering coats, dresses, blouses, shirts, all with minimal finger injuries—though luminol on some of these clothing items would no doubt reveal traces of your blood.

  But hey—you now knew what it meant to work so hard you put your blood into something and you always had band-aids on you, in case anyone needed one.

  You were so invested in your work, you hadn’t heard the bell above the door chime when it was pushed open, and didn’t notice Steve leaning against the counter, watching you work until he cleared his throat.

  You jumped, head swinging around to see your crush smiling at you and you raised the magnifying glass portion of the head lamp off your face, feeling embarrassed that he’d seen you with the headgear on in the first place.

  “Hey! I didn’t know you worked here.”

  You let out some nervous laughter, mind racing for ways to make this seem cool but you came up short. “Yeah, I—employed.”

  “I can see that,” He chuckled, amused by your lack of verbal sparring.

  You didn’t know what to say after that so you stared, fingers twisting and pulling the thread you’d been working with, desperate for him to say something or get out.

  “Oh! Uh, I heard you guys also get rid of stains? I’ve got this one on my pan─”

  “THAT WE DO!” 

  You sighed, eyes slipping shut as your moron of a boss came bursting out of the office.

  “What can we do for you, Harrington?” Murray asked, leaning against the counter, causing Steve to lean back, smile now less than thrilled.

  “Murray…I forgot you worked here.” Steve said it in a voice that made you think he would have avoided the shop had he known who it was that was currently in charge of running it.

  “Yup, got me this sweet little gig. And no radios.” He gestured around to the shop, void of any technology save for the cash register—and he made sure it was never him operating it, “Would like to see the government try to control me now.”

  “Right, I just came here to drop off my pants, spilled something on—well, it doesn’t really matter, I just spilled something on them.” Steve placed the folded pair of pants on the counter and Murray immediately unfolded them, searching through the fabric until he found the stain by his crotch. To both your horror and Steve’s, he lifted the strained fabric to his nose, sniffing deep.

  “Mm. White wine?”

  It took Steve a moment to find his voice and close his jaw, “Crush. The soda.���

  “Same thing. We’ll get this right out, my man.”

  You and Steve shared one more look of disbelief before he slowly backed away, the bell above the door sounding as he left.

  “He’s a nice guy,” Murray commented and you shrugged your shoulders, wanting this conversation to be over, “I’m surprised you know him, little loser.”

  You shot him a glare.

  “Oh, c’mon, lets not pretend you’ve got an active social life—if I call you in for a shift, you’re available. Nothing wrong with being a loser. I was one throughout high school and look at me now. Who got the last laugh?”

  You were positive the look of pain on your face should have told Murray that anyone other than him got the last laugh. He was a forty something year old, afraid of technology, convinced the government was watching him, who tried to befriend teenagers. 

  You’d have to kill yourself if you were anything like him.

  When he disappeared back into the office, because of course you’d have to get rid of that stain for Steve, you snatched the pair of pants off the counter. Glancing around to make sure there weren’t any eyes on you, you pressed them to the side of your face, imagining yourself hugging Steve instead of the pants. They smelled like him. It was bliss.

  Then your eyes snapped open.

  Oh, god. You were a loser.

  After your shift, you’d gone straight home. Normally, you’d stop to grab a bite or something, you still had to pay for the mirror you broke so fast food was off the table for a couple of weeks, but on your dining room table when you walked into the house.

  A pizza box. Your stomach growled as you imagined the slice of cheese waiting for you.

  “Is there any left?” You asked, already making a beeline for it.

  “Should be a slice left,” Your dad mused and as you tossed the top of it open, all you wanted to do was maybe beat him with it.

  There, on the parchment liner of the pizza box, was the skinniest and tiniest slice of pizza to ever be cut. Not even the width of two of your fingers.

  “Want me to order another one, sweetheart?” Your dad asked and Laura immediately inserted herself into the conversation. 

  “She can eat it, love muffin. Besides, we’ve got vegetables in the fridge if she’s still not full.”

  “I said we should have ordered two, but my mom had a coupon she wanted to use.” Chrissy didn’t sound impressed.

  “Yes, we got a free soda!”

  Chrissy ignored her mom, “Sissy, we’re going to the movies! You could get something there, they sell pizza and nachos, right?”

  You knew she was trying to find a solution for you, but your bullshit meter for the day had already been capped. You didn’t want movie theater pizza or concessions, you wanted a  reasonable slice of this pizza, not some scrap your step-mother had saved you. It was obvious she was implying that she, your dad and Chrissy were the perfect sized family and you were simply an afterthought. Unwelcome.

  “Yeah, I’m passing on the movie.”

  Before you could stomp upstairs, Chrissy caught your hand.

  “Sissy, please? We’ve got to bond as a family, it’s crucial. If it takes two, how can I do it as one?” She pulled you into her side.

  “Really, Chrissy, I’m super tired.”

  “You’re tired?” Laura asked, incredulous. Here we go again.

  “All you do is work with a sewing machine for hours like some old spinster, I can hardly imagine that being tiring, but my Chrissy just got back from a five hour long cheer practice. They were throwing her around like raggedy ann and she stuck every landing.” 

  “Mom, stop.” Chrissy blushed, but you could see how proud she was of herself, “I’m sure Sissy pokes herself with those needles all the time, and it hurts, I’ve been prodded myself during all of my custom fittings.”

  “I have finger calluses so I don’t even bleed anymore,” You begrudgingly admitted, “I can take it.”

  “I bet you can.”

  After they’d left for the movies, you’d gone upstairs, showered, put on your comfiest pajamas and fuzziest slippers, you grabbed a bowl of chips and set yourself up in front of the TV to watch Dawn of the Dead. You had to give props to all these zombie actors, you couldn’t imagine having to act out being one of the walking undead, imagined it felt pretty stupid but the paycheck and experience must have been cool.

  You popped another chip into your mouth just as someone knocked on the front door. As you placed the bowl of chips on the table to get up, the knocking got louder, more aggressive and you hesitated, fear beginning to swell up inside of you.

  Maybe if you ignored it, they’d go away.

  You turned your attention back to the tv, picking up the remote to lower the volume and hopefully hide your presence in the house. 

  Then, much to your horror, you heard the distinct sound of a pained, gurgling groan. It sounded very similar to the ones you’d heard the zombies making on your tv, but this one was louder. 

  And it was coming from outside your front door.

  You crouched, duckwalking to the foyer where one of the house phones was placed. You’d just picked it up from the receiver when a shadow from the living room window caught your eye. You barely had time to turn your head when something came crashing through it, breaking the glass and yanking the curtains from the rod.

  Shocked, the phone slipped from your hands, banging against the hardwood floor of the foyer and you let out a scream at the same time as the person on your TV, running away from the figure invading your home. 

  You made it to the dinning room. Literally scrambling across the table to put an obstacle between you and the stranger—no, creature. Tall, caked in mud, leaves and stems, it resembled the Swamp Thing. It grunted, groans low and reverberating off the walls.

  “Uuuhhhnng…”

  This couldn’t be happening to you, you couldn’t die like this!!!! It was supposed to be by your hand or nothing!

  ”STAY AWAY FROM ME!” You shrieked, picking up the decorative plates from the table to throw at the creature. You nailed it a couple of times, watching it stumble as the fine china shattered against it. When you ran out of plates, you bolted from the dinning room, screaming as you scrambled up the stairs, and lost one of your slippers in the process but to hell with it! You had to get out of there. Hopefully, one of your neighbors heard your shrieks of terror and called the police.

  You peaked over the railing at the top of the stairs, to see the creature analyzing your slipper. While it was distracted, you locked yourself in your room and made your way to your bedroom window, pulling it open.

  “Okay, okay. I can do this, no big deal. Stunt actors do it all the time.” You climbed outside of your window, body nearly convulsing as you almost slipped down the roof, “Nonononono.”

  You tried to grip onto a couple of shingles but they gave away, slipping right off the house to shatter against the concrete walkway and you realized Laura had no fucking idea what she was doing when it came to house repairs, the dumb bitch had just laid the shingles out without securing them.

  “OH MY GOD-I’M GONNA DIE! HELP!”

  Your body slipped further down the roofing, until you were forced to grab the gutter, gagging when your fingers squelched against whatever was in it. You dangled a good six feet off the ground, and while it wasn’t exactly a ten story fall, with your luck, you’d land on your head and break your neck.

  Whimpering, you tried to pull yourself back up the roof, but it was no use. You had nothing stable to grab onto as you yanked yet another shingle clean off. You glared at it and muttered a goddammit before tossing it somewhere behind you as you went back to hanging on for dear life. 

  “Oh, no.” You mumbled, terrified as your fingertips began to lose their grip, wet with the mystery sludge from the gutter. “No, NO!” 

  You lost your grip, plummeting down but you didn’t meet the concrete. No, the Creature broke your fall and you were now face to face with it. The pressure of you landing on it, made it spit up into your face, green sludge, and you gasped before breaking out into screams again.

  Pushing yourself up and off of it as you ran around your front yard, nearly blind. You were not opening your eyes to let that bacteria infested swamp slime, water, whatever the hell it was, into your eyeballs. 

  You could hear the Creature stomping around behind you as you bobbed and weaved, could feel his presence and you could not believe you were actually gonna die fighting off a swamp monster in your front yard while blinded—in clear and plain view for your neighbors to see, by the way, and unbeknownst to you, an elderly couple was watching you, not even a little concerned about your well being or the creature chasing you around.

  “Stop it!”

  “Leave me alone!”

  “Go away, I’m just a girl!”

  The timed sprinklers went off and you were soon assaulted with them as well. With just about all your senses done for, and the sprinklers washing the guck away from your face, you made a run for the house, slamming your back against the door and locking it behind you.

  Your chest was heaving, wet body pumping with adrenaline as the back of your head thumped against the door. You weren’t done yet. That creature was still out there!!!

  You dove for the phone on the ground, hanging by its springy cord and shouted out hopefully loud enough for it to hear, “I’m calling the police, so if you don’t want your ass riddled with bullets, I’d suggest you leave! They shoot before asking questions!”

  You frantically dialed 911 but there was no ringing, instead, you could still hear buttons being pressed on the other line.

  Bleak, and accepting your fate, you put the phone back on the receiver, and turned towards the living room, where the other phone was located. 

  On the chair, next to where the table the phone normaly rested on, was The Creature. 

  You grabbed one of the lamps, ready to use it as a weapon but it didn’t attack you, just turned the phone receiver this way and that, as if admiring it. 

  Despite your fear, you took a reluctant step forward, casting the creature in the glow of the lamp you clutched and for like the billionth time that night, you gasped.

  The sprinklers had washed some of the filth off of it, too. Before, its head had been caked in a mud helmet, but now, you could actually see it’s head. It had long, disgustingly dirty curls, and wore a leather jacket, jeans and tennis shoes, all covered in grime.

  When it craned its head up to look at you, you readied the lamp, poised to throw it at it—him. It was a guy. Big brown eyes, stared up at you and he made no move to attack.

  Slowly, you lowered the lamp, and crouched down a few feet away.

  His attention returned to the phone—shoe shaped—in his hands and shakily, with stiff limbs, he put it back on the receiver.

  “It’s…It’s cool looking, right? The-The shoe phone.” 

  He glanced over at you and then the phone again as you mumbled out an explanation, 

“Our neighbor in our old town cheated on his wife and she threw all his stuff out the window at him and my dad snatched the phone.”

  “Merrrruhhhhh.” He moaned out, picking up your slipper and offering it to you. When you just stared, he dropped it and you moved the lamp to the side, crossing your legs.

  “I’ve never seen a zombie before.” You marveled, then squinted, “You are a zombie, right? An undead?”

  It took him an entire minute to choppily raise his shoulders, you realized he was shrugging. Or trying to. Every movement he made was choppy. Reminded you of how stop motion was made, except his scenes weren’t being played fast enough to have fluid movements.

  He tried to get up and promptly slipped, accidentally elbowing the mini sound system at his side. It turned on, Sinead O’Connor’s Drink Before the War playing. You’d been the last to use it.

  You watched as his head tilted in interest as Sinead began to croon out lyrics.

  “Do you like music? This is Sinead O���Connor. She makes music that heals souls.”

  He raised his wrist to his chest and you inhaled sharply as you realized he was missing the hand on it.

  “Uhm, no—I don’t think she healed your soul. I meant like, figuratively. Her music makes people feel.” You placed your hands on your own chest, trying to convey your meaning, “She’s one of my favorites.”

  A surprisingly comforting silence fell over the two of you—though he sometimes made his quiet dead guy gross sounds—as you stared at him, taking in the green-gray tint of his skin beneath the dirt all over him, cheeks sunken in. You had a feeling if you touched his skin, it’d be hard, maybe waxy and it was a bit unnerving how human his eyes were, but duh! Of course they were, he was a human. Just. A dead one. At least he wasn’t a skeleton.

  Man, Hollywood wasn’t too far off with their interpretation.

  “C’mon,” You stood up, eyes taking in the state of your home and all the dirt the two of you had dragged in, “I gotta hide you, new dead friend.”

[i-turned-into-the-stone]

[Commissioned]

Career's Dead End: Ex-NMIXX Jinni × M!OC

Tags: Rape, Hardcore, Belly Bulging, Face Fuck, Cum In Mouth, Cum Swallowing, Clit Torture (just the usual pinching, pulling, etc), Pussy Slapping, Squirting, Anal, Overstimulation, Breath Play

Character(s): Ex-NMIXX Jinni × Male OC

Word Count: 7,653

A/N: Since the plot takes place before Jini became a soloist, I will use Jinni throughout the story and her birth name, Choi Yunjin in some of the dialogue. I hope you guys don't mind a long plotless chapter.

Jinni had always thought being an idol would be a fun gig. You know, basking in fame, meeting new people, and connecting with fans. She imagined herself becoming a household name, doing what she loved for a living. But, being an idol wasn't the glamorous ride she had envisioned.

It turned out to be a lot less exciting, and before she knew it, she was no longer part of NMIXX. Her career ended abruptly, leaving her feeling underwhelmed and detached. She went through the motions like a robot until the very end.

Even though Jinni's time as an idol was short-lived, her former group mates were like her friends. Saying goodbye to them after living together like a family was a heavy burden to bear. It was even more heartbreaking that she didn't get a chance to bid farewell to the other members before leaving the dorm.

Maybe NMIXX's busy schedule was intentionally designed by the CEO to keep them apart from her as if the company didn't want any lingering attachments to form. There wasn't much she could do about the situation, but she had one thing left to do before she left.

Her manager, Hanwol, had been a constant support throughout her idol career. Looking back, Jinni realized she hadn't seen him since the news of her departure from NMIXX broke out. So, here she was, taking a cab to his house, which was nearly an hour's journey from the dorm.

As the cab drove through the city, Jinni observed the surroundings—a residential area with several empty houses or ones still undergoing renovation. She wasn't entirely sure, so she checked the address again.

"This is the place, but..."

The cab came to a stop in front of a one-story house with a white gate. It appeared more well-constructed than the neighboring houses. Jinni paid the fare and got out, making sure to take the bag of fresh fruits she had bought along.

Jinni took a deep breath to steady herself and then pressed the doorbell. Silence filled the air. After a few moments, she pressed the button again, and she heard a crash that she assumed came from the front door.

Soon after, the gate rattled and slid open. Jinni paused, her eyes fixated on the taller man standing before her. His two-block hair was disheveled and damp, a half-empty beer can in his hand. His usual smile was absent, replaced by a hint of weariness.

"Jinni?" he said, his gaze scanning the area outside. Finding no one else, he let out a sigh. "What brings you here?"

"I-I just wanted to say goodbye before, well, leaving. I haven't seen you at the company, so I came here to see you, oppa. I wanted to thank you for taking care of me and guiding me during my time there..." Jinni's voice trailed off, a sad smile on her face as she handed him the bag of fruits.

Hanwol reluctantly took the paper bag from her hands, his gaze fixated on it with a blank expression. "Damn..." he cursed inwardly. Was this all he had left after being laid off from his job as a manager? That's what had him looking so disheveled, but of course, the former idol standing before him had no clue.

Sure, he received his salary, but he needed a solid reason if he wanted to apply elsewhere, and he hadn't gotten one at all. He was simply told to move on and good luck with his future shit. The can in his hand crumpled as frustration welled up inside him. No amount of beer could help him calm down anymore.

However, Jinni might hold the truth he desperately sought. She was no longer tied down as an idol, and no one could restrict her anymore. Plus, she was alone now. Hanwol's thoughts became clouded as he eyed her, his gaze lingering on her exposed stomach since the hem of her shirt was lifted and tied behind her back.

"Well, I guess I'll take my leave then. Didn't mean to bother you too much. Take care, Hanwol oppa," she said, her smile tinged with sadness as she turned around to leave.

Hanwol's gaze shifted outside, scanning the usual emptiness of the area. He watched her retreating figure, his eyes now fixated on Jinni's hips, snugly squeezed into those low-rise pants she wore, stirring up conflicting emotions within him.

"Jinni," Hanwol called out. The girl turned back, her eyes meeting his. "Wanna come inside and talk for a bit?" he offered, his smile masking the turmoil he felt inside. At that moment, relief washed over Jinni's face, and she nodded, taking a few steps back toward the gate.

Hanwol watched as Jinni walked further into his house, his body moving on autopilot as he threw the beer can at the corner of his front yard and locked the gate. He caught up to her and opened the front door, gesturing for her to enter. She slipped off her shoes and stepped inside, while Hanwol lingered for a moment to lock the door once again.

The inside of Hanwol's house was plain and neat, reflecting his minimalist taste. The living room was adorned with simple furniture, a comfortable couch, and a coffee table. Jinni took a seat on the couch, sinking into its soft cushions, while Hanwol headed to the kitchen to put the fruits away.

In the kitchen, Hanwol glanced at the sparsely stocked refrigerator. "Do you mind a beer? I haven't done any grocery shopping yet," he called out to Jinni.

Jinni smiled politely. "Thanks, oppa. Don't trouble yourself. I'm fine with whatever you have."

Hanwol rummaged through the fridge for a moment, then remembered the leftover milk. He grabbed the carton and decided to pour himself and her a glass. With the milk in hand, he joined Jinni in the living room, placing the drink on the table and taking a seat in an armchair across from her.

As they sat there, sipping their respective beverages, the atmosphere felt both tight and uncertain. The silence lingered for a while until Hanwol finally broke it, his voice filled with genuine curiosity.

"So, Jinni, what really happened at the company? Why did they let me go without any proper explanation?" he asked, his eyes searching hers for the truth he had been desperately seeking.

Jinni's eyes widened at Hanwol's statement. "What? They fired you, oppa? I... I had no idea," she stammered, her grip tightening around her glass.

Hanwol let out a sigh, frustration evident on his face. He downed the milk in one gulp and slammed the empty glass onto the table.

"Doesn't really matter now. I just want to know how you messed up. Why did you leave the group, Jinni?" he asked, leaning forward, his gaze locked with hers.

The former idol bowed her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I have a reason I can't disclose, oppa. But I'll speak to the CEO on your behalf—"

Hanwol interrupted her, his voice laced with accusation. "So, you can't disclose the reason because it's true that you were caught with a guy at a hotel? Is that rumor actually true?”

"Hanwol oppa! You know me! I-I am not like that!" Jinni blurted out, her voice filled with hurt and disbelief. Jinni felt seriously let down by her former manager. Hanwol had always been the one to boost her spirits and believe in her talents, but right now, he seemed like a whole new person.

"Yeah, yeah... My bad..." Hanwol muttered, his eyes fixed on Jinni.

He wasn't wasted or anything, but he was feeling hot under the collar—frustrated and just not right. His mind couldn't help but wonder, secretly hoping that the rumors about Jinni were true, that she was some sort of wild girl behind everyone's back.

"Look, I'm sorry, Hanwol oppa. I didn't realize my issues were getting to you too. I'll still talk to the CEO about this mess," Jinni said, getting up from her seat and giving a little bow. "I'm leaving now. Take care, oppa."

Hanwol stayed silent, his anger simmering inside. He then stood up, his hand grabbing onto Jinni's arm. “Since you're already here, why don't we make it worth our while, Jinni-ya?" Hanwol offered, trying to sound casual but with a hint of malice.

Jinni turned around, her eyebrows furrowing as she looked up at the towering man. "What do you mean...?"

Hanwol shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe you can let me fuck you to make up for all the trouble you've caused?" His words lacked respect, to take advantage of the situation rather than any genuine care.

Jinni's shock was beyond words. She desperately wanted to believe that Hanwol was just messing around, but the grip on her arm grew tighter, making it impossible for her to break free.

"What…? Come on, oppa, you're drunk or something? You-You're hurting and me," she managed to say, attempting to twist her arm out of his grasp.

"No, I'm not drunk, just annoyed and a little horny.” Hanwol let out a chuckle. “Don't be so uptight. There's no need to maintain that squeaky-clean image anymore. You're not an idol now," he said, reaching for her soft stomach and rubbing it.

Jinni pushed his hand away, fighting harder to break free. "Oppa, please... Please let go of me. I know you're angry with me, but you can't do something like this," she calmly pleaded, attempting to reason with him.

"Do what? Unleash the wild side of Choi Yunjin?" Hanwol swiftly shifted their positions, harshly shoving Jinni onto the couch. "I'll give you a good fuck as a goodbye, Jinni-ya, don't you worry.”

Hanwol wasted no time in yanking his track pants down, revealing his semi-erect cock to Jinni without a hint of shame. Jinni's heart filled with fear and panic, but she managed to keep her cool. She quickly got up from her seat and darted around the table, but before she could escape, Hanwol grabbed hold of her hair and pulled her.

"Ack!" Jinni let out a pained yelp as she crashed back onto the couch.

"Seems like you enjoy playing hard to get, huh?" Hanwol taunted, mocking her while tugging her head towards the edge of the couch. He stepped out of his crumpled pants hanging around his ankles, and slipped his legs under her armpits, effectively locking her arms useless.

Jinni found herself stuck upside-down, her head trapped between Hanwol's legs, with his cock noticeably weighing on her chest. This position made her dizzy, but she continued to fight back, trying to free her arms from behind his knees, yet all her efforts were in vain.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?! Ugh!" Jinni thrashed about, her panic evident.

"Don't ask dumb questions, Choi Yunjin. You're not that innocent. Just admit it," Hanwol asserted, gripping Jinni's thigh and maneuvering her lower body to align with her chest, pressing her butt against the cushioned backrest.

Jinni kicked her feet in the air, but Hanwol just held onto them, hugging them against his solid chest. He squeezed her ass through the fabric, getting all worked up by its softness as his junk on her breast reached its full glory.

"Yah!!! Stop! Please!!!" Jinni screamed her lungs out, trying to push herself away from between his legs by shoving against the edge of the couch with her palms.

Hanwol pushed himself down even more, trapping her tighter. He smacked her ass, making her flinch. "Can't you just stay put, you bitch?" he said, reaching for the zipper on her pants and unzipping it.

"Hell no!"

The ex-idol wriggled like crazy, but Hanwol had a grip on the waistband, wrenching her pants along her legs until they were stuck at her ankles, tying them together. He folded her calves to the back of the backrest and spread her knees wide, his eyes widening at the sight of her purple lace panties. His hands greedily massaged her inner thighs, ignoring Jinni's cries of resistance.

"Holy shit, you've got a fat pussy," Hanwol leered, pinching her squished cameltoe inside the panties.

Jinni tensed up and cursed at him, "Let me go, you disgusting creep!"

Hanwol scoffed and smacked her crotch with an open palm, causing her legs to close up in pain. He spread them apart again.

"Keep those legs wide open. I'm not done yet. Since you're so eager to scream, I'll give you a reason," he taunted. Without warning, he delivered another stinging slap to her sensitive area.

"Aah!" Jinni cried out in agony, clutching onto his legs for support.

Hanwol arranged her body on the couch so that only her head dangled over the edge. His balls intentionally pressed against her chin, while his rock-hard thick cock twitched whenever her breasts brushed against it.

"Why so quiet now?" he sneered, slapping her pussy once again. But this time, he didn't stop. He kept on repeatedly striking her burning flesh with force.

"It hurts! Fucking stop! Please!!!" Jinni twisted and turned in pain, but Hanwol kept her legs spread wide, keeping them in place.

"Come on! Admit it, you're just a cheap whore. The idol life doesn't suit your horny ass at all," he growled through gritted teeth, matching the rhythm of his hand pounding on her pussy. Jinni cried her heart out, her legs shaking from the intense pain inflicted on her most intimate sensitive area.

Just as Hanwol stopped, he ripped her panties in half and tossed the torn fabric aside. The scent of her pussy hit his nose as he got a full-on view of her naked snatch. He ran his thumb over her neatly trimmed pubes before reaching her clit.

Jinni's legs instantly clamped shut when she felt his touch on her sensitive spot. She let out a weak grunt, unable to lift her head anymore after enduring the relentless smacking on her pussy.

"I fucking told you not to close those legs, bitch," Hanwol reminded her, and another slap followed, leaving her already red and swollen pussy even redder.

"Oww!" Her body was in shock. She felt his finger slip inside her slick labia and slide along her slit. She knew exactly where he was heading, but she couldn't do a single thing to stop him.

Despite Hanwol's strong desire to fuck Jinni senseless right then and there, he knew she would fight back until the bitter end. So, he had to break her spirit first, and the plan was simple - make her own body betray her will. His finger found her entrance and slipped inside smoothly, all at once.

"Ahh!" Jinni's back arched involuntarily, her legs spreading wider as he moved his finger in and out. "Oh, God— S-Stop!"

"Quit pretending, Jinni-ya. Admit it, you love this," he stated, holding onto one of her thighs and adding another finger, fingering her with increasing speed.

"Aah! Fuck! Mm..." She bit her lip, suppressing a moan, feeling his palm smacking her pussy while his fingers explored her tight inner walls.

Hanwol slowed down but didn't stop completely, teasing her senses, making her crave more. He glanced at her flushed face, her chest heaving against his cock.

"You should be the one pleasuring me, you know, but look at you, enjoying yourself instead." Hanwol withdrew his fingers and flicked her clit sharply.

"Oww!" Jinni jerked in a mixture of pain and undeniable pleasure. She saw his hand rising. "N-No, don't— Argh!" A sharp slap instantly numbed her throbbing pussy.

Hanwol's two fingers slipped back into her pussy, now wetter and more fragrant from her growing arousal. Seeing that Jinni was weakened, he shifted to the side, freeing her arms and upper body from beneath him. He then folded her legs towards her chest, ensuring that the former idol had a clear view of how eagerly her pussy clenched around his fingers.

As he withdrew, his fingers glistened wet, some of her juice even dripping on her pubes. "Still refusing to admit that Choi Yunjin is a slut?" he taunted with a smirk, observing her flushed and sweaty face. Their physical exertions had left both of them covered in a sheen of sweat.

"I... I trusted you, Park Hanwol. I thought you were a good person but..." Jinni paused momentarily, "Ugh!" She twisted her body sideways, attempting to kick him off. Too bad he now had a firm grip on both of her legs. "Let me go!”

Hanwol reached down and wrapped his hand around her neck, giving it a squeeze. "Save your breath, Jinni-ya. Just quietly let me fuck you. Nobody gives a damn about us anyway. Not anymore.”

He tightened his grip, and Jinni's teary eyes shot daggers at him as she swung her arm, smacking his with all her might. Her face turned pale as she struggled to catch a breath, her mouth wide open.

He stood there, watching as her eyes rolled up, and her feeble attempts to hit him turned into weak tapping. Even the legs he held in his grasp barely put up a fight. Jinni was suffocating, and he knew it.

Not wanting her to pass out just yet, he released her legs and swiftly grabbed her waist, lifting her body up and tossing her onto the couch. Her head found support on the armrest, but it hardly mattered as she painfully gasped for air, coughing uncontrollably.

Hanwol wasted no time and positioned himself between Jinni's trembling legs, dipping his thick pre-drooling cockhead between her slick pussy lips. Still huffing and puffing, Jinni's hands flailed around aimlessly, trying to push him away.

"For fuck's sake! Just take my damn cock, you filthy slut!" Hanwol screamed into her face, his voice filled with rage, as he pinned her hands—one above her head and the other against the backrest—ensuring she had nowhere to escape.

"Yah, Park Hanwol... Haa... Don't you fucking dare! You bastard…”

Jinni's futile words were all she had left to fight against her former manager. However, they seemed to only provoke him further. He bent her body in a double, hoisting her legs up over her head and thrusting his crown against her defenseless little pussy.

Jinni let out a surprised "Eep" and wriggled violently, twisting and arching under the weight of Hanwol's forceful press. From her vantage point, she could see his cock slowly but surely stretching her tight cunt around its girth.

There was simply no way around it: she was doomed the moment Hanwol thrust forward hard, and Jinni's eyes widened as she saw all inches of his cock vanish into her, tearing her out and causing her belly to bulge beneath her belly button.

“Too big! Ahh! Shit— too deep… Fuck!!!” She gasped, barely managing to get the words out before Hanwol began clobberfucking her, pressing her down beneath him in a savage mating press.

He brutalized her with each powerful strike, causing her belly to swell at an insane speed. Her abdomen expanded with loud, squelching bloats and swells that outlined his cockhead inside her, leaving her gasping for breath and overwhelmed by the roughness of his smacking her soaking cunt.

The couch shook with each jab, but for Jinni, it felt like her whole world was being rocked at that moment. Her pussy was filled to the brim, a mix of pain and an unexplainable tingle shooting through her nerves, messing with her senses.

Hanwol locked eyes with Jinni, refusing to break the intense gaze. He kept thrusting his throbbing shaft into her, ramming it in and pulling back, perfectly in sync with the rhythm of his hips. His grunt of exertion reached Jinni's ears, making her shiver at the sound that solidified her lower position between them.

"I took good care of you..." he said, his breath ragged as he slowed down, relishing the tight squeeze of her canal. "So don't feel too bad for being such a good girl for me— Ugh!" he grunted in pure ecstasy.

Jinni narrowed her gaze, weakly looking at him. "I fucking hate you..."

The man slapped Jinni, leaving an immediate mark on her face. "Oh, I know you hate me, but you love this cock, you whore," he informed her.

She shook her head in denial and a hand closed around her neck. "Keuk," the sweaty girl gasped, her breath catching. His grip tightened even more. "Eughh!" Jinni groaned as Hanwol's fingers dug deeper into the flesh around her windpipe.

As his pulsing cock ripped into her, Jinni couldn't hold it and gurgle for mercy. Within moments of this harsh treatment, her body betrayed her, hitting her first mind-blowing orgasm of the night. She shrieked and writhed wild under relentless Hanwol.

Hanwol kept on holding onto her ankle above her head while another grip was on her bruised neck. Jinni expression was all messed up, teeth clenched tight as Hanwol gave her the fuck of a lifetime.

His hips barged down like a sledgehammer, slamming his balls on her entrance harder, causing her juice splatter everywhere. Her stomach bulged out even more, and Jinni threw her arms around it, wailing and going absolutely crazy. It made her nauseous for some reason.

Hanwol’s hand pressed the bulge in her stomach and a prolonged groan escaped through her constricted throat. He applied more pressure to the bulge, making her jerk in response, completely overwhelmed by the sensation of his cock filling her up.

Hanwol stopped and pulled out. Jinni convulsed as those veins and ridges of his cock dragged along her sensitive velvety walls. Before she could process anything else, Hanwol thrust back inside, causing her to cry out as the force pushed her upward.

"Ahh! P-Please..." her shaky voice was barely a whisper.

He set an unforgiving pace, his cock relentlessly hitting all the sweet spots inside her. The sounds she made with each pump were like exclamation marks. Whenever his tip brushed against her cervix, her eyes rolled back. Jinni was dripping with fluids, leaking and gushing all around him. Some even trickled down to her butthole.

"Please what?"

Hanwol loosened his grip on her throat, giving her a chance to breathe and speak, but all she could do was whimper and dig her nails into his shoulders. She was on the edge, feeling nothing but knots in her stomach, desperately craving release.

Hanwol let his hand slip between their bodies, pinching and tearing her stiff clit to stimulate her even more with both pain and pleasure. She shook against him as his hips roughly pierced into her. And then without pausing, he grabbed her left leg, placing it on his shoulder, driving his cock to the deepest depth of her pussy.

“Oh shit! You're milking me good, Jinni-ya. Haa— Fuck!”

Once again, she was choked, gasping for air beneath him, holding onto his muscular body as he both strangled and inflated her.

Hanwol took a deep breath and let out a blissful bellow as he shoved his entire cock into Jinni's pussy—way more than she ever thought possible. She went cross-eyed and had another body-shaking orgasm as he exploded inside her, filling her up with his hot, churning seed.

Her poor belly was filled with an excessive amount of fresh semen, a lot of which spilled back out and pooled on the couch. Her trembling hand clutched her swollen stomach.

Jinni was completely shattered, reduced to a wreck by his violation. Hanwol stayed inside her for a moment, panting, before slowly pulling his cock out from her cum-filled cunt, causing her pussy to squirt her nectar all over his crotch as she spasmed and arched her body, overwhelmed by ecstasy.

Hanwol wasn't about to give Jinni a break. He released her neck, and before she could even take a breath, he shoved all his fingers into her mouth, except for his thumb. Jinni gagged out loud, her chest sucking in as she struggled to handle it.

"You don't think we're done, do you? We're both jobless, so we've got all the time in the world to have some fun," he said with bitterness in his voice, recalling how he was unjustly fired.

Anger consumed Hanwol as he viciously attacked her hypersensitive pussy, aiming her clit at the tips of his fingers, repeatedly slapping it in an upward motion. With him between her legs, Jinni couldn't even close them, so they kicked against the couch on his sides.

Jinni's vocal resistance was reduced to gagging and retching as his fingers probed the depths of her throat, forcing her saliva to dribble down her cheeks. Her hands clenched his shirt tightly, but it didn't seem to have any noticeable effect.

Hanwol yanked his hand away from Jinni's mouth, and she shot up, coughing and sticking her tongue out. He grabbed her messy black hair, pulling her up while pointing his cock towards her mouth.

He pressed the tip of his cock against her cracked lips, feeling the anticipation of her warm mouth overwhelming him. Her lips tightened, her teeth grinding together in denial. She glared up at him, a mix of shock and disgust on her face.

Leaning over her, Hanwol tightened his grip on her hair, yanking out a few strands as she tried to pry his hands off. "Listen here... I'm not letting you go. I bet nobody even knows you're here, so might as well enjoy this like a slut you are."

"I am not your fucking slut!" she spat, her chest heaving with anger.

He responded with a loud slap across her face. Her lips parted, and Hanwol sighed as he invaded her mouth, feeling it close around him. He loosened his grip on Jinni's hair, his fingers cradling the back of her head. The wet heat got his pulse racing. He let out a breathy exhale, his eyes rolling back as Jinni reluctantly sucked on his shaft.

"Fuck," he hissed softly.

Jinni's head bobbed back and forth, her tongue embracing his thick flesh. It felt great until he realized she was just going through the motions. It was mechanical and lacked passion. Hanwol growled, his fingers twisting in her hair again before rocking his hips forward, sliding past the barrier of her throat. She gagged, her body tensing, and he groaned at the tight grip around him.

Hips jerking, he grabbed the side of Jinni's head with his other hand to hold her in place. If that's how she wanted it, he'd give it to her. Jinni's eyes darted up to him as he grinned down at her before shooting his cock forward, widening her eyes in surprise.

Hanwol was totally into it, feeling the warm, wet, tight glide of Jinni's throat around his pulsating cock. He thrust again. Her throat tightened. Jinni gagged and struggled, which only turned him on even more. He held onto her head firmly and pounded away, his hips going at it like a jackhammer, giving Jinni's throat no mercy.

Her knees shifted on the squeaky cushion beneath her. She tried to squirm away, but Hanwol had her face locked in place. Poor girl whimpered, choking for air. Drool and precum dripped down her chin, making a sloppy mess.

Feeling the climax approaching way too fast, Hanwol pulled back, his cock slipping out of Jinni's mouth. She coughed and spat, trying to catch her breath. Her cheeks were flushed, lips all swollen, and her skin had this slick shine to it. Hanwol licked his lips. She looked enticing. He gripped his throbbing member tightly to hold back the eruption.

He ran his fingers through Jinni's hair, trying to soothe her, but she shot him an angry glare with those slightly unfocused eyes of hers. Hanwol leaned down and licked the sweat off her ear, making her shudder as she exhaled shakily.

"Please," Jinni rasped, her chest heaving as she struggled to breathe. She needed a break. A quick one would suffice.

Hanwol raised an eyebrow at her and straightened up. His cockhead brushed against her lips, but Jinni pulled away, denying him access. Hanwol just tugged her hair, yanking her head back. He bucked his hips forward as he entered her mouth again, rubbing himself against the inside of her cheeks and then felt Jinni's throat moving as she swallowed.

Honestly, Hanwol couldn't remember when he closed his eyes, but when he opened them, he saw Jinni's lips wrapped tight around his girth. Her eyes were shut, brows furrowed, and she really got her technique down this time. Her lips and tongue worked their magic, occasionally grazing him with her teeth, making her gag even before he was halfway down her throat.

Jinni spread her knees wider, like she was trying to ground herself somehow, and her head started moving faster. She forced herself onto him, shaking and gagging as Hanwol pushed past the resistance at the back of her windpipe before pulling back.

Moaning and totally lost in the moment, Hanwol tightened his grip on Jinni's hair, his mouth hanging open as he kept hammering forward. Jinni's eyes shook with fear, but she didn't back away, knowing things would get even rougher if she did. Instead, she braced herself as Hanwol went at her mouth with renewed intensity. He grunted, completely caught up in the pleasure.

She was hot, wet, and soft, spinning his world around like crazy. He fucked her face even faster, pounding into her stretched throat, savoring every desperate gag. Jinni's eyes rolled back, tears streaming down her cheeks, and Hanwol let out a loud cry as he buried deep. Leaning forward, he cradled Jinni's head in his hands as he blew his load down her throat.

With no choice in the matter, Jinni swallowed every drop Hanwol gave her, but some of it dribbled from her mouth, ending up on her chin. When he was finally done, Hanwol pulled away, leaving Jinni slumped forward on the couch. She was awake but weak, panting loud and hard.

Hanwol's thirst was somewhat quenched, enough to make the air feel steamy as he finally took off his shirt and slung it over his shoulder. He then helped Jinni peel off her sweaty clothes, tearing her tight shirt in half down her back and yanking it off her body, leaving her kneeling there on all fours in her bralettes.

Not that he cared about her boob size or anything, but he figured it'd be better if she was completely naked. So, he unhooked her bralettes, letting the lacy fabric drop down. Jinni didn't put up as much of a fight anymore, which made him give her bare ass a smack, printing a reddish mark on her skin.

Jinni fell silent, her heavy breathing the only audible sound in the room. Yet, Hanwol's frustration lingered, leaving him unsatisfied. He had come this far, so why not push further? That thought crossed his mind.

Giving in to his negative emotions, Hanwol grabbed a handful of Jinni's hair, pulling her upright. With his other hand, he explored her chest, groping her breast. Moving on, he caressed her stomach while gazing into her fluttering, puffy eyes.

"You're gonna be filled up with nothing but my cum, Jinni-ya," he remarked, pressing his palm against her soft tummy.

Jinni simply stared at him, her mouth dry as she swallowed hard. Hanwol didn't require a response either way. He guided her down onto the couch, positioning her in front of the coffee table. Then, he bent her over the rectangular surface.

On the other side of the table sat a glass of milk he had served her earlier. Jinni's blank gaze glued on it, her indifference palpable. That was, until he spread her ass and spat right on her asshole. Her eyes widened as she glanced back at him.

"Wh-What the hell are you doing? Yah! You-You can fucking ruin my pussy, damn it! Don't you—Argh!!"

Hanwol stepped on her head, causing her hands to flail behind her in a desperate attempt to shield her untouched anus. That turned out to be a major mistake as he captured her wrists and bound them with his shirt he had hanging on his shoulder earlier.

With her hands tied, she was once again at his mercy as he gave her pussy a hard slap from behind. "Ahh! Fuck!" She gritted her teeth in pain, yet her legs trembled, and her juices leaked from her sore pussy.

"What the fuck? Did you just come from that? What a slut," he scoffed, delivering another solid smack to her pussy.

Her body shook even harder, her toes curling as more fluid dripped onto the floor. Biting her lip, she suppressed a moan. She wasn't about to give Hanwol the satisfaction he craved by admitting that her body was practically in overdrive because of all the sensation scratching under her skin.

Hanwol's mouth found her glistening skin, planting wet kisses on her shoulder and neck, while his hands reached around her belly, giving it a gentle massage.

"You are so fucking erotic right now," Hanwol murmured. "Would be a shame to let you go so soon..." His fingers traced light patterns across Jinni's waist, causing goosebumps to rise in their trail. "I should keep you like this. Completely naked, Choi Yunjin."

Jinni closed her eyes, trying to imagine she was anywhere else. With anyone else. But then, a warm, wet tongue licked up the side of her neck, and she reluctantly opened her eyes again.

The sensation felt strangely good. Unwanted, of course, but still pleasurable. She didn't want to get lost in the sensations and forget the nightmare—the fact that he was forcing himself on her. Hanwol's fingers trailed down her body, reaching the cleft of her ass, making Jinni tense up.

"This could have gone differently, Jinni-ya," Hanwol said, sounding almost wistful. It took a moment for Jinni to swallow the lump in her throat. "You could have just given in. Let loose and fuck like wild rabbits.”

She shook her head. "I used to care for you, Park Hanwol. I used to adore you. But not anymore... Go fuck yourself,” Jinni calmly cursed him, straining against her restraints, trying to free herself. A firm hand clamped onto the curve of Jinni's hip, and she tensed as his middle finger pressed down between her ass cheeks, pressing against the entrance of her anus.

"Please, don't. I'm begging you," she huffed, fear evident in her voice.

Hanwol loosened his grip a bit, but his finger stayed put, poking her asshole.

"Come on, please," Jinni pleaded again, tilting her head to catch a glimpse of her former manager's face over her shoulder.

Hanwol sneered at her, his grip digging into her hip like an eagle on a mouse, and a surge of panic shot through Jinni's chest before he violently shoved his finger up her ass.

The pain was unbearable. Jinni let out a shrill scream, feeling the dry, burning agony, and desperately tried to wiggle her hips away. But Hanwol had a tight grip, keeping his finger firmly lodged inside her.

Jinni slumped against the table, her head hanging down. Then, he twisted his finger inside her, making her insides clench and spasm in torment. It hurt like a bitch. Tears squeezed through her tightly shut eyelids.

Slowly, he pulled the finger out, making it feel like he was about to rip her guts out too. Jinni took a shaky breath, only to have it shoved back in with brutal force.

Something tore. Jinni felt it like a blazing inferno ripping through her, and she let out an anguished wail. She slammed harder against the table, all her muscles toned up, desperate for any escape that seemed impossible.

Meanwhile, Hanwol's other hand trailed up her spine, ending at the base of her skull, and he yanked her back against him. Full of excitement, he drove his finger deeper, like it was drilling through her freaking guts.

"Pull it out! It hurts!" she screamed, her tied hands twisting trying to reach out to her burning ass. "Please! Ahh!"

But Hanwol didn't give a shit. He kept curling his finger inside her until Jinni's vision blurred at the edges and the room started spinning like a damn tornado. She wished for the sweet relief of passing out. At least then, she wouldn't have to endure the humiliation and agony.

Closing her eyes, she tried to surrender to the darkness, but then Hanwol's thrusts eased up, finally stopping, and she grunted as he jerked his finger out of her and shoved her face down onto the table.

Hanwol freed her hands and instead used a shirt to cover her face. "Hmph!" It wasn't as suffocating as when he choked her, but she still had to inhale deeply through the fabric to get a breath of air, resulting in a constant huffing sound escaping her mouth.

As Hanwol's hands slid hotly along her hips again, Jinni tensed up. She could feel the pressure of the man's cock, and it seemed unbelievably larger than when she had taken it in her mouth. Hanwol had been big before, making her choke and struggle to accommodate his entire length.

Now, Jinni silently panicked, fearing that his cock wouldn't fit before he forcefully pushed it inside her. It was too much. Hanwol's cock was larger than his finger. Jinni screamed, her nails digging into the tabletop as she desperately searched for something, anything to escape, only to find more pain. Hanwol pressed deeper, thrusting his hips forcefully until he was completely buried inside Jinni's already abused hole.

Jinni tore around him, screaming, jerking, and clawing at the table as her weak body protested against the invasion.

The intoxicated man groaned behind her, his hands gripping and releasing Jinni's curvy hips. "Oh fuck—so tight!" he moaned in bliss. "You're squeezing my cock, Jinni-ya!"

He slowly pulled out, causing Jinni to hiss as her insides clung to the retreating girthy member. But Hanwol didn't leave her completely. He paused with the head of his cock still inside her and, with another groan, thrust back in.

Jinni grunted, squeezing her eyes shut. She wouldn't scream again. Hanwol could take what he wanted, do as he pleased, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of hearing her break yet her loud heaving continued without a second break.

More tears streamed down her face as Jinni pressed her forehead harder against the table. His thrusts were forceful and deep, pushing her stomach against the table. Jinni held onto that small pain—it provided a temporary escape, allowing her to focus on one thing instead of the other, although it didn't last long.

Hanwol leaned over her, sliding one hand into Jinni's hair, pulling her head up and back. "I will have you," he hissed in her ear. "Your body. Your pain. Your screams. And you'll accept it soon enough."

Jinni gagged as he suddenly impaled sharply, her eyes blinking open, seeing only white blurry vision. Her body had loosened, her constricting passage slick from his precum and her own fluids. Hanwol slowed down, penetrating her belly deeply until Jinni could feel the bulge inside pressing the table.

Shifting his hips, Hanwol changed the angle of his thrusts, and Jinni's mouth fell open. The pain began to fade, replaced by a burning, aching pleasure that she denied in her heart. She refused to give in. She wouldn't break. She wouldn't allow this to be anything more than what it was—a brutal violation of her body and mind.

"Never!" Jinni exclaimed, but her body had a mind of its own.

Her clit was throbbing, starting off slow but getting stronger with each scratching thrust from Hanwol. Her skin flushed, heat spreading through her chest, nipples fully standing, and her pussy leaking excessively. It was making her dizzy. Jinni's body was on fire, and she couldn't help but let out a moan between her deep breaths.

Hanwol chuckled, loosening his grip on Jinni's hair as his hand trailed down her arched back. He grabbed her ass, going harder and faster, fucking her with wild abandon. Jinni's head dropped forward, mouth hanging open, her spit soaking the cloth around her head, choking on the mix of pleasure and distress.

One of Hanwol's hands found her dripping pussy and began stroking her clit in rhythm with his thrusts. "You see, Jinni-ya," Hanwol groaned, giving her clit a wicked twist that made her stomach flutter. "You're a slut. Your body knows it, even if you deny it."

Jinni shook her head, denying it, even as her body burned with heat, desire, and pulsating bliss. Sweat clung to her skin, beading on her forehead and rolling down her back and chest. But with each passing moment, her denials grew weaker as Hanwol's actions intensified.

Hanwol pulled out of Jinni, gripping her shoulders and turning her towards the davenport. They slipped on the pool of her sticky juices on the marble floor, barely managing to stay upright before falling onto the cushions.

Quickly kneeling between her thighs, Hanwol guided his cock towards her puckered and twitching asshole. This time, as he entered Jinni, her ass welcomed him, making her feel full to her stomach. It stretched her virgin hole wider than she thought possible, almost as if it would tear from the sheer force. But Hanwol didn't hold back, pulling out and thrusting back in.

Jinni's breath caught in her throat as a new sensation shot through her like a lightning bolt. Her arousal ignited, and she squirted girl juice across Hanwol's chest, her legs quivering as he spread them to the sides and continued to pound into her, his cockhead slamming her guts from the inside.

Hanwol was going at it, pounding away with all his might, and the room echoed with the sound of slapping flesh and heavy breathing. Jinni couldn't help but moan, her body heating up and craving something she had never felt before.

"Come on, say it," Hanwol growled, thrusting so hard that Jinni felt like she was getting launched off the couch. She held onto her legs tightly, trying to keep up with the intensity. She was determined to keep her pride.

Jinni tried closing her eyes, hoping to escape the overwhelming sensations, but darkness only seemed to amplify every touch, every thrust, and every surge of heat that washed over her. When she opened her eyes, she saw Hanwol lost in his own lust, and it made her feel ashamed and disgusted with herself.

"Just say it!" Hanwol demanded again, his voice a mix of ecstasy and a dangerous growl. His hips moved with a ferocity that hit Jinni in all the right places, and she whimpered as her clit pulsated.

Her whole body felt like it was about to explode when she couldn't hold back anymore and screamed, muffled, "What do you want from me?! Ahh!"

Hanwol ripped off the shirt covering her face and kept thrusting. Finally, Jinni could breathe freely. He didn't care about anything else now, just fucking her relentlessly, over and over, until his rhythm became erratic and Jinni's eyes rolled back.

He was on the edge of climax. "Just say you're a slut!" Hanwol snarled.

His body tensed up as his orgasm ripped through him. He buried himself deep inside her, pressing his hips against her firmly, and Jinni bit her lip as she felt his hot load flooding her. It felt like he was shooting directly into her stomach, making her feel bloated.

Hanwol jerked and kept going until his orgasm subsided, and Jinni desperately hoped he would be done with her now. He slumped forward for a moment, his chest rising and falling rapidly as his high faded into a satisfied glow.

Letting out a soft groan, Hanwol looked up and let go of Jinni's legs, reaching for her swollen clit instead. No words were needed; his gaze alone conveyed what he wanted as he gripped her pussy lips tightly.

She shook her head. "No…" she weakly said, her voice filled with emotion.

Hanwol's eyes flickered with irritation, and he gave her clit a sharp, painful twist. Jinni hissed but then followed it up with a precise stroke that sent waves of pleasure through her. He fingered her pussy, twisted his hand like a screw, and then pulled back until his thumb teased her entrance.

Tears welled up in Jinni's eyes, and all she could manage was a choked-off sob. She pressed her fist against her mouth, biting down on her finger. Hanwol twisted his hand around her crotch so forcefully that Jinni feared he might rip off her clit.

Jinni let out a cry, sounding like a wounded animal on the verge of giving up, and she slipped off the couch, landing on the cold floor. She huffed, clutching her stomach, feeling too weak to move any further. The tingling sensation all over her body just added to her discomfort.

Hanwol flopped onto the couch, running his fingers through his damp hair and letting out a huff. He kicked back, staring up at the ceiling and realizing that the living room had been dim for god knows how long. The day was almost over, slowly turning into dusk.

Out of the blue, a laugh burst out of him, followed by a scoff. "We're both a mess now. We're ruined, aren't we?" he mumbled, catching a whiff of the unmistakable scent of sex lingering in the air. Exhaustion was finally getting the best of him, and his tired eyes fluttered, gradually closing.

Everything was cluttered. His life, his house, his future— a huge chaos. Strangely enough, he didn't feel crushed by it all. He knew he'd deal with those problems when the time came in whatever way he could. Jinni too.

With his eyes shut, Hanwol's lips moved silently. "Jinni-ya, should I be your manager again after this?" No response came from the violated girl, and a breath later, he drifted off to sleep.

[babyleostuff]

pool date | xu minghao

☾₊ ⊹ currently playing: tamed- dashed by enhypen

summary | pool date with Minghao in Macau (+ other members annoying you :>)

genre | fluff 

word count | 1.8k

author’s note | I’ll need at least a week to recover from Mingyu’s and Mingaho’s photos, they want us dead fr (thank you for the boyfriend pics tho)

“You want to go swimming?” Minghao suddenly asked you, lifting his head from your lap. After their concert yesterday he swore he would use this day to rest, but hearing the noise and laughs coming from the gigantic pool below, he couldn’t resist.

“Sure, why not,” you smiled at him, giving a nod of approval. You spent the whole day together laying around and talking, so finishing it off with a couple of hours at the pool would be the best way to end it. 

You excitedly got up from the couch and went straight to your bedroom to find your swimming suit, leaving Minghao alone in the living room. Grabbing your phone on the way, you immediately dialed your best friend’s number, in hopes that they would help you pick out the best one. 

“Okay, listen. We’re going to the pool and I need help with choosing my swimming suit,” you said straight away, opening your suitcase.

“Hello to you too,” you rolled your eyes, searching for the bottoms of one of your bikinis. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t call you earlier, but everything was so hectic yesterday that I totally forgot. Forgive me, please?” you picked up your phone from the bed and set it next to the suitcase. 

“It’s okay, I’m just joking,” your friend laughed. “Now show me what we can choose from,” they said, getting closer to the camera to see you better. 

“Okay, so we have this one, but I think it might be a bit too revealing.”

“You think? People might get a heart attack if they see you wearing this. Leave this one for when you two are alone, you dork,” you laughed at their comment, but agreed wholeheartedly. 

You didn’t even know why you packed this, it’s not like it was a private pool, where you could actually use this one to your advantage. 

“What about this? Is this one family friendly?” you showed them the next one, which was a much safer option. 

“Oh, it’s so pretty. You’re going to look great in this one. And Minghao is going to love it as well,” they wiggled their eyebrows in a suggestive tone, making you snort. 

“It’s a pool full of kids, nothing is going to happen,” you said with a straight face. 

“Well, maybe not in the pool, but who knows what might happen after.”

“You know what,” you sighed in a joking manner. “Thank you for your help, but I’ve got to go.”

“Okay, remember to stay safe though. And have fun!” 

You quickly changed into your swimming suit, putting on one of Minghao’s t-shirts as well. Making sure you had everything ready, you grabbed your and your boyfriend's books from the bedside table, sunglasses and a sun cream and put them in one of your bags. 

“Okay, I’m ready,” you said, entering the living room space. He quickly got up and disappeared in the bedroom, only to come  out a second later. 

“How come are you always so quick?” you laughed. 

He simply shrugged and grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers. Smiling at him, you put your hand at the back of his neck and gave him a sweet peck on his lips. 

“I love you,” you said. 

“I love you too, honey. Now come on, let’s go,” he exclaimed, kissing your lips once more. 

As the doors to the elevator started slowly closing, some loud noises came from the hallway. And it was a very distinctive noise that you would recognize anywhere. Just as you were about to ask Minghao whether the boys are coming as well, a yellow floaty appeared between the closing doors. 

“No way. You’re going to the pool too?” asked Mingyu, entering the elevator with a towel and two big floaties, wearing only black sunglasses and his swimming trunks. Now you were a hundred percent sure that the attention of the whole pool was going to be on him. 

“Yeah, what a coincidence, right?” Seungcheol came right behind him, carrying his own stuff. 

“How many more of you are there?” asked Minghao, slightly annoyed. You knew that he wanted to spend this day alone with you, especially since you wouldn't be able to see each other that often back in Korea because of his schedules. 

“Just us,” said Mingyu. “And them,” he added, as Jihoon, Chan and Soonyoung entered the elevator as well. 

“What? We just want to spend some quality time together,” spoke Chan, as he saw the irritated expression of your boyfriend. 

“We see each other literally everyday,” he sighed and looked up toward the ceiling. 

You sent an apologetic look towards the boys, asking them silently to understand Mingaho and not bother him too much. 

You put your other hand, the one that wasn’t held by your boyfriend, around his bicep, stroking it gently with your thumb. Squeezing his hand, you reassured him that no matter what, this day was going to be perfect, and nothing could destroy it, not even his annoying members. 

As Mingaho turned his gaze towards you, a smile playing upon his lips, you felt your heart flutter - you couldn't help but drink in the sight of him, captivated by the depth of his affection apparent in his eyes. You send him a small smile as well, leaning your head on his strong shoulder. 

The moment the elevator doors opened, Mingyu and Chan were out in a second, probably the most excited about the pool. The rest of the boys teased them of course, commenting on their childish behavior despite being in their 20s, but they looked almost as excited as them. 

You and Minghao were the last to leave, trailing slowly behind them. Not wanting to bring any attention to yourselves, you found two empty sun loungers in the less crowded part of the pool area. Setting all your stuff aside, you took off Minghao’s shirt and took a look around. 

The afternoon sun blazed high in the cloudless sky, casting a glow over the poolside. The air hummed with the sounds of laughter, splashing water, and the gentle rustling of palm trees in the breeze. The scent of sunscreen mingled with the sweet fragrance of nearby flowers, and anywhere you looked, there was an air of relaxation and pure bliss.

“Should we go in the water?” Minghao asked. 

“Yeah, sure,” you said softly, following his lead towards the shallow part of the pool. 

You took your first steps into the water, immersing yourselves in its cool embrace. The sensation enveloped you, sending shivers of delight through your bodies. You waded deeper, the water rising higher until it enveloped your torsos, providing a refreshing respite from the heat.

“It’s actually colder than I thought it would be,” you said, trying to get used to the cold sensation. 

“Oh, really?” you could hear Minghao’s mischievous tone, but didn’t expect him to do anything. It’s when you felt a cold splash of water on your back, you heard Mingahao laugh loudly. 

“You did not just splash me, Hao!” you exclaimed, though not annoyed in the slightest. 

“It seems like  I just did,” he said proudly with a smirk on his face and splashed you again, drenching you completely. 

“Ugh, you asshole,” you beamed and threw yourself at him, making him lose his balance and fall into the water. You couldn't help but to smile widely, and let out a joyous laugh upon seeing his confused state, while being under water. 

He quickly got up though and wrapped his long arms around you, trapping you in his embrace, not giving you a chance to run away. 

“Let me go, Hao!” you exclaimed, trying to wiggle out of his grip. 

“Not a chance,” he said, and just as he was about to throw you under the water, a familiar yellow floaty hit the back of his head. 

“Hey, I found them,” suddenly Mingyu appeared, waving towards the rest of the boys. 

Seeing the slight agitation on Mingahao’s face, you pulled him toward you. 

“Hey, why are you so annoyed with them hanging out with us?” you asked, your voice laced with concern. 

He hesitated a bit before answering, not wanting to be that bad friend. “I just wanted to spend this day with you, and only you,” he said, adjusting his sunglasses. 

“Look, I can just tell them that I want you all to myself. Then they’ll probably leave us alone,” you put your hand on his cheek, making him turn his face towards you. You pulled his glasses on top of his head, making sure he was looking you straight in the eye. 

“No, it’s okay. I don’t want to ruin everyones’ day, just because I’m in a bitchy mood. I’m sure we’ll have a lot of fun with them too,” he send you a reassuring smile, guiding you by your waist towards Seungcheol and Chan. 

“Yes, our favorite couple is back!” Mingyu cheered and pushed Soonyoung under the water at the same time. You were sure that someone would end up dead, if they wouldn’t stop acting like literal toddlers.  

Minghao joined Mingyu in his shenanigans, teaming up against the older ones. You couldn't help but laugh at the silliness of your boyfriend and his friends, and feeling extremely grateful that they finally got some time to unwind and relax. 

“What did they do to you to get you out here?” you asked, joining Jihoon by the pool’s edge. 

“I figured since I’ve never been to Macau before, I should get out of my room and see something at least. And I really didn’t want to go out to the city with Wonwoo and Jeonghan,” he explained with a hint of humor in his voice. 

“Well, that explains everything,” you laughed and turned your gaze back to Minghao. 

You spent some time chatting comfortably with Jihoon and observing your boyfriend, before they decided it was time for photos. 

“Okay, I’ll take yours and you'll take mine,” said Mingyu, giving Minghao his phone. 

During the next couple of minutes, the boys each took their turn to pose and take photos with the amazing pool and hotel as the background. You instructed them how they should pose when they were out of ideas, because not only as a girlfriend, but as a fan, you’d know what would make Carats go crazy. 

“I think they all look great. You’ll have a lot to choose from,” you said, approaching Minghao and putting your arm around his waist. 

He looked at you with a soft smile, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, pulling you further into his side. You nestled your head against Minghao's shoulder, finding solace in his proximity. 

“Thank you for today. It was perfect,” he whispered into your ear and kissed the side of your head. 

Feeling like words weren’t enough to express how grateful you were as well, you leaned in slightly, your lips brushing gently against Minghao’s. It was a sweet and innocent moment, a tender expression of your shared affection.

“By the way. Could I maybe see the other swimsuit I heard you talking about?”

“Xu Minghao!”

[emomeishibot]

First of all, I’m a proshipper; secondly, this post has no ships in it.

I drew kuro characters as a 2000s Chinese drama costume sitcom 武林外传 My Own Swordsman (no idea why is it translate to this name, the direct translation should be Wulin Anecdotes) Why I did this crossover: it’s just hilarious for me!! To help you understand my casting read further. I was like I want to send these sketches for tumblr but you can’t get this crossover so I might as well introduce it to you. I mean you might be intrigued by the referenced show, who knows? 🤭

Let me give you an analogy if you are not familiar with Chinese Kong fu themes novels: this show is a comedy kong fu drama, and a western narrative analogy for it could be if you have a team of DND characters but they never leave the tavern but instead they are the staff trying to make the tavern successful and solve all the crazy problems in this chaotic world and become family members(I hope this works)

The male lead character is a former Robin-hood-like legend burglar but now settled down working as the waiter; the female lead is an unmarried widow who came all the way to her fiancé only to find him dead and left her his mischievous little sister to look after, so she wiped off her tears and decided to buy the inn and start her business as the landlady right there and then. As for the little niece, rumors are that she’d grow up to be a murderous fiend…! But they don’t know yet…

So I drew Sebastian, Madame Red and Ciel as these roles🤲

y’all couldn’t have known how adorable it is for me without growing up with the show… btw the show goes for a relationship for the waiter and landlady eventually in the show but I drew them as work partners and friends^^Regarding how Madame Red teased Sebastian canonically makes me laugh remembering those early kuro shenanigans 😂I always hoped Madame stayed longer with us in canon, she so lovely. Imagine her running a tavern is such fun, the vibe of this show is crazy… just look at them

There’s a reckless, chivalrous former swordswoman as waitress, another former constable girl who is amiable but has no dating luck as waitress as well. I casted Jane and Mey-Rin (I really want to see Jane join the Phantomhive manor(if possible after the Breton arc)??she slays and I want to see her working with Sebastian! Also Mey-Rin is both clumsier and deadlier than her character)

And more: a fusty, nerdy moderate scholar who sold the family inn to the now landlady and now working for her as an accountant, for which I casted Grelle (her butler persona when she’s undercover is really close to how this character usually is lol but she would definitely hate how nerdy this character is, as she is working for Madame Red again in this crossover)

For the hot-headed, ambitious yet bad cook who was a constable, I cast Bard (I might redo him because I wanted to fit Finny in but I run out of the inn staff; Bard and him could be the constable master and apprentice duo from the show; Diedrich could step up as chef)

The setting is a fictional ancient China so the kong fu element is very overdramatic; also, there's a lot of modern references to the 2000s. If you watch the show's op you'll get it) And it’s a nationally beloved show of my generation^^ I hope my explanation got you interested instead of confused😳but I love this crossover and hope my kuro ppl on tumblr enjoy it😌Such long explanations for them little sketches; Thank you for coming to my ted talk???

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Hey bae, I've enjoyed your lords of chaos fics so far and I really liked the hcs and I just wanted to ask you could make one for necrobutcher? He was so fine in the movie but no one ever talks about him :)

Hello anon happy that you enjoyed my works so far. Pretty cute in the movie but the only voice of reason. So I hope and everyone else likes this little story and as always have fun readinf :)

It's over

warning : fluff, hurt/comfort, mention of suicide

masterlist

Disclaimer : I don't want to glorify anything, it's about the actors who play a role, not the real events.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

°The two of you actually met in the supermarket one day. You wanted to buy something for you and your flatmate, who didn't really have anything any more. Almost the same was true for Necrobutcher the bass player and member of Mayhem he was still something like the voice of reason.

°Just as she was going to the section with the muesli and other packaged foods, she saw a black-haired young man. From then on, the two of you got into a conversation, or rather, he made the first move. A bad joke, a little laugh and a question about what all the patches on his jacket were for.

°There was a spark between the dark mysterious basist and the simple medical student. Which is why he not only wrote her number on her hand, but also lied her into the next rehearsal of Mayhem in the dried-out hut.

°She would be lying if she didn't find him attractive. There was something about him that was slightly mysterious, funny, realistic and, from what she had heard, not as evil as the news described all those statists. Which is why she went to the cottage at the weekend.

°When she arrived and went into the old hut, she quickly realised that it had seen better days. ,,Hey, Y/n, come with me, I'll show you the others!" he called cheerfully from the kelelr and wrapped her in a hug before they went downstairs. There she met the rest of the band from mayhem - nice but somehow strange people.

°Sitting down on the floor, she watched the band animatedly. Even though the music wasn't really her cup of tea at first, she soon felt herself swaying and humming along to the lyrics and cheering the band on. Before she pulled Necrobutcher into her arms, slightly embarrassed, and praised him.

°Staying with the band throughout the day, a small partx took place in the evening, where she not only had fun but also sat on the couch with the black-haired man and watched a film to ignore the noise from outside. He had his arm around her and she had her head on his shoulder. A cute moment that ended the evening with them kissing. The first kiss of many that night the two somehow ended up in a relationship.

°She quickly realised how sensitive, emotional and devoted he was. He listened to her problems, hugged her, kissed her and was there for her. He was indeed the most socially normal of mayhem and understood her worries that one day something might happen. Even though they both supported each other.

°But the day came when it would happen. The suicide of Dead and Euroynmou's exaggeration. He had gone too far and exploited his friend's death just for the sake of success. That same day, she got a call from Necrobutcher from a phone box who was more than upset and asked her to pick him up because his bike had a flat.

°As soon as she got into her car and drove off, she was worried. It was bound to happen sometime, she thought bitterly and sadly, before stopping at the phone box a few minutes later and getting out. She held the distraught and almost tearful Necrobutcher in her arms for a moment. She just held him and he mumbled and apologised for something he couldn't do.

°Then they loaded the fahard into the car and drove to him, as his family was not there at the moment anyway. Sitting down together on the couch, he rested his head on her lap and was quiet. But she was also quiet and just stroked his head. ,,It's going to be all right...they're gone, you don't have to go there any more," she said and only saw the brief nod. A moment later he sat down and wrapped her in a grateful kiss and held her hand. ,,Thank you for everything," he murmured and put his hand on her cheek.

°Not knowing that the past would catch up with them both. The suicide was only the beginning, then Faust's murder of the gay man and finally Varg's murder of euronymous. It was terrible, and yet the two survived the time together. They moved in together, helped each other and lived normal, free lives as best they could. Knowing that the horror had only made them both stronger.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@mayhem-things , @bvg-w1res , @beldamama

[bottomless-brainrot]

SALTBURN AS PORTALS ( melanie martinez ) SONGS

a/n | just a fun little rant and analysis of how specific songs on the album represent a character, their actions or emotions that I believe fit how I saw them within the movie. also i've never done a character analysis before so i will try to make my ideas clear for those of you who would like to read them.

a/n | also sorry if i repeat my points lol.

saltburn spoilers below

CHARACTERS

Oliver Quick - Tunnel Vison

yeah, you can look, but you can’t touch / i’m not just anybody

not the first thing i want to get into but i will be going through the songs line by line so here goes…

to start is the obvious ‘hands off’ rule that we find out is bestowed upon all of Felix’s ‘toys’ that he has brought out to Saltburn. Vague mentions of previous friends from Venetia, the hovering eyes of Farleigh for Oliver’s next slip-up and the instant anger Felix gets at Oliver for not understanding that he wasn’t for the other and just supposed to entertain him.

it was clear that the family seemed to be fascinated with him the same way people would at a zoo or an art museum, staring at the priceless treasures from a distance and never to get as close to them as a handler would

eyes on the prize,…that’s your demise, yeah, you hold me like you’re rushing to my thighs

Oliver’s weird sexual tension with Felix throughout the movie due to that white savior complex

his way in right from the start was Felix’s need to fix him; that power in knowing that he could make him happier than whatever Oliver had now.

honeysuckle and fresh meat / but i’m more than that

the Cattons never saw Oliver to be on their level. Oliver was always told who he was and how to act from the family so much so that they believed his innocent act up until their final moments. he easily weaved himself into a core front of the family in a matter of days really showing that he wasn’t to be underestimated…

playing house to distract me / but you’re no good at acting

thinking back to the scene where Felix is talking to Oliver and Oli mentions that his family has problems and Felix instant shift of posture and interest is such a dead give away

i mean it took Oliver one bat of an eye lash and a smile to find out each individual family member’s deepest darkest secrets and twist them into a control point for his own game.

seeing that at it’s core, the Cattons weren’t anything but forced smiles and money bags of a picture perfect family. such an old money move.

i make them tumble down the hill they climbed / i don’t regret it

using the family to slowly climb up the ranks and then getting rid of them one by one just so he could have it all to himself.

king of the hill moment

show me how far obsession goes / could have been more now we’ll never know

in the end, i am a firm believer that if Felix listened and forgave him then Oliver wouldn’t have given him the poisoned glass.

if he had mentioned that they were still friends but he needed some time to think, Oli would have definitely poured out the glass and un-pretend to be wasted out if his mind to have a better conversation and 'fix' things.

but anyway, Oliver spilling his guts to Felix and still not having that wholehearted love reciprocated really did a number on him which led to the killing no doubt. what they could have had together in the end was only left for one.

i saw a post on here earlier might link if i find it but it was something like “oliver having sex above his grave because he couldn’t ever do anything with Felix unless there was a distance between them” and i couldn’t agree more!

Felix Catton - Spider Web

flexing like pricks with their stolen power / they're just who the spider will eat

not that Felix was flaunting his wealth or his social status, but that was what made him a target to Oliver as well as his desperate need to 'help' him get away from what he thought was his hectic lifestyle

he was gullible enough to believe everything he was told over his own family countless times, and even after finding out the lies he still chose to hide the truth because he didn't want to be seen in a different light to his family.

thinking about that line "you’re kind about everyone, you can't be trusted." so heavily right now.

didn't ask for this dangerous visibility / i'm feeling too scared to sleep

the moment when Oliver spills his guts and tells Felix he did it all just for him. made himself into this character just so that he could get close to him and secure his spot within his life as a friend.

it left Felix visibly staggered as he thinks about everyone else who could have done the same; everyone else he's left high and dry for his attention and the possible lengths they went through to try and get it back in his past.

better off dead than stuck in a maze / the center may seem like a gift

Felix having sex in the maze believing no one would find him there because its a place he knows like the back of his own hand. however, Oliver's interruption makes it known that he is more exposed than he thought.

also to me his death being at the center of the maze and him being the dead center of the family as they all mourn him with such vigor and slowly lose their minds really gets to me.

up all night, bound to their addiction to it / lifeless eyes, they die in the pit of the spider web

Felix's premature death being the root to how Oliver get his 'in'. he was the hub of the web and after his death is when everything truly spiraled into chaos and one by one his family followed him to the grave.

Elspeth Catton - Leeches

leeches surrounded, conscience is throbbing

Elspeth my love you dissevered only happiness.

i think we could all agree that the wealth came from her as well as the family’s popularity due to her younger years in life with her career

Elspeth, as we come to find out, has met many influential individuals throughout her life as well as the free loaders.

we hear about the numerous people that have come to Elspeth for favors and help in their troubled time, that really only used her kindness to get into a life of luxury. ( not including pamela )

although it is draining for her, she never openly complains about how helping is a bother for her building up the exhaustion until someone else brings it up.

let all their friends in, the enemy's present

Felix gets his kindness from his mother’s side obviously, thats clear in how she is so inviting with Pamela and Oliver regardless of their circumstances.

i cannot stress enough how i feel like she would have ket Pamela at Saltburn if nothing was whispered to her about how ‘awful’ Pamela was.

she was drawn into the direction of who was the problem in the eyes of others but never her own. thinking about the dinner table scene after finding Felix’s dead body n how Farleigh called out to her to save him instead of pleading his case. he knows she would have saved him like she has before.

how much blood can you draw / with your claws from a flesh that's not yours? / my hands aren't yours, and / gnaw on my bones, no marrow left

honestly hate how Oliver played the long game with her

he found out her routine after Sir James’ death, stalked her, gave her a false sense of home after losing her entire family by his hands and then killed her off and stole all her wealth.

i believe she had the most tragic death and if you want to debate on the argument of ‘innocence,’ she really displayed no evils.

Venetia - Womb

oh the rant im about to do

a seed in mother and I chose that space for me / little does she know it's free, ooh, yeah

the moment i saw her on screen i just knew she had some sort of issue with her mother and boy was i so on the spot

its vague when Elspeth mentions it so i could be completely wrong but i believe Venetia ( and Felix ) was raised by her grandparent ( “my mother always said born masochist” )

i felt that Venetia has wanted to get a rise out of her mother with her sexual activities because she was never given that parental figure she wanted. never been disciplined the way she should’ve as a child or told good from bad.

how Elspeth just dumps out all Venetia’s dirty laundry the moment she meets Oliver and doesn’t seem to care that she’s flaunting herself to a complete stranger. almost encourages it!

its no wonder she’s so close with her brother because he’s shown true spine with her

and I know my brother / he'll make the journey later on / conversations in the cosmos, yeah

if you didnt pick up on the incestuous relationship between Felix n Venetia i don’t believe we watched the same movie.

a lot of what im saying is up for debate but i know that their parents took trips frequently. the casual mention of going to London for Pamela’s funeral was all by chance and if Elspeth hadn't said anything they would have left without a word, and seeing how okay with it Venetia and Felix were gave me so many thought on them.

just being stuck in all of Saltburn by themselves just free to do with the wealth and the space as they please alone together

for years it must have always been them, maybe Farleigh was there on occasion but most of the time its been them.

and i can see with Felix it’s beyond protective brother. no he’s made claim to Venetia the same way he’s done for Oliver and all his past friends.

“i’m used to it, honestly. he never liked sharing his toys. even the ones he doesn’t want to play with anymore.” oh im so sick

at first i had thought Oliver was replaced again but she was referring to herself in this moment and that did it for me.

Felix claiming his own sister for himself, she doesn’t need another males approval because Felix is all she has depended on for her every need why should she stop now even if he doesn't think of her in that way anymore?

why should she go for another when he’s still here? why go through that pain when he’s only ever showed her real happiness?

no one could ever be as impactful as him in her life and whenever someone gets close he cuts them off. i’m gonna climb the walls

feeling alive, the closer that I get to my life / i’m pushing out the center, the core / i’m sweating through the flower no more, no more

Venetia finding her control and power through the means of her own body is sickening to me.

like openly saying how she got molested and her own mother making a joke out of it and offering her to a stranger im so sick and furious right now.

sex being the only way she’s noticed, the only way people will listen to her the way she wants instead of being seen like some fragile beauty like her mother

all of the planning, yet I still feel unprepared / kick and screaming 'cause I'm scared, ooh, yeah

sorry to bring it back to the incest but my god you cannot tell me she doesn’t get at all Felix’s closet friends for the giggles

Venetia is sickeningly scared of losing the one person in the house she’s emotional intertwined to so of course she interjects herself into his relationships the only way she knows how — and it works every time.

getting with all of Felix's best friends to spend more time with Felix as the lover of his closest friends this girl was obsessed

she knows he’ll get mad and she knows she’ll get that parental chiding from Felix but he will never cut her off the way he does his friends because they only have each other in end.

the intimacy between them tells a story only woven by having to embrace one another on a different level then just siblings. they were naked in front of each other sunbathing unabashed like a regular tuesday for fucks sake.

and I know she suffers contractions of hell and death / eyes are bloody screaming out, ooh, yeah

thinking about her final moments with this

bathing in Felix’s bath tub, soaking in his soap, smelling his aftershave on Oliver’s face like second nature, seeing his clothes on another man and feeling so disgusted and yet its so inviting.

she kisses Oliver in the heat of the moment not because its him but because if she closes her eyes and forget for just a moment it would have been Felix.

but of course its not enough and its not the same as having him there alive so she chooses.

a life on earth that's a living hell without the man that makes her whole or to be reunited with him in death. she chose the latter.

Farleigh - Void

it's tastin' kinda lonely / and my mind wants to control me

the self-preserving outcast of the Cattons.

its clear in the script and Archie did such a wonderful portrayal of his emotions because that boy Farleigh was really there for himself.

he had his own back from the get go

he’d be present within all conversation but at the same time watching everyone, pinpoint each and every shift in the pecking order and making sure he doesn’t leave his place in the middle of it all.

no one here but me to judge me

whether it ever was a race thing or if it was just a status thing, Farleigh knew of his own worth and because of it he knew the other couldn’t ever understand him no matter how much explaining would need to be done

then comes in Oliver, the outcast with a need for a approval that he knows will overshadow his own

honestly i never thought he hated him per se, but he knew of his intentions from the start he just underestimated how low Oliver would go to maintain his own position

i’m tryin' to find the doorway / my eyes are starin' at me / and they seem so damn unhappy

his family struggles and pride being his greatest turmoil of all in the movie

seeing how easily the Cattons give away their wealth to complete strangers over their own bloodline must not have been easy, especially having to go and beg for it.

i believe he wanted a way out of it, to find some way to rely on himself to support his side of the family but that wasn’t something be could have easily obtained so the Cattons were his only real option.

pipe down with the noise, i cannot bear my sorrow

Farleigh being the first to notice Oliver for who he is the night of the death and the morning following hurt me so much

if he had more of a backbone to press into Felix and the rest of the family that this nobody can’t get close to them i feel like things would have been so different.

Felix was a family matter, Oliver’s presences wasn’t a needed one especially only having known him for a single term. it was just invading

in that moment of sadness is when it clicked for Farleigh, if not that Oli was the root of the problems at Slatburn he had to be a factor in them

but do to his own emotions he couldn’t find the right way to expose it.

look at the mess i've done, there is nowhere to run, yeah / holdin' a loaded gun, the void

Oliver outing Farleigh in the end to ensure that he was dealt with in his plan. i’m furious

not that anything he was doing the night of the party was right but he wasn’t the only one

the maids scrubbing cocaine from the toilets and tables highlights that plus Venetia and Felix were there too but Farleigh was only trying to fit in and keep his place in the close circle so he joins them. if he were reluctant to or chicken out then he wouldn’t be a toy anymore and that looming pressure of loosing his funding was already enough to keep him chained to them.

but it was never something he could have denied or challenged especially with his history so he had no choice but to leave all his life and behind and get replaced by a nobody.

Sir James - Battle of the Larynx

explained within duo expression.

Pamela - The Contortionist

twisted all my limbs for you / two of them in knots and two of them in loops

poor dear Pamela

she was the only normal person in the entire film with no grudge on anyone or ill intent. literally just need a place to stay to get back on her feet and that is what the Cattons offered but because she wasn't interesting enough to entertain them they tossed her away.

asking her to fetch a made as soon as Oliver enters as an excuse to get her to leave so the conversation could shift onto her

you can tell 'em what you wanted to

Pamela didn't live a life of lavish obviously by her proper nature ( the same persona Oliver pretended to play except you know a genuine one ) so of course the others treated her as entertainment.

Farleigh and Elspeth saying her looks were her only point just a dull flower in bloom

also Elspeth's comment about how she dropping so many hints before it goes so far really bugged me

like the only time they pressed for her to leave was at the dinner when she brought up having found a place and even then it was a half assed 'oh we'll miss you so much'

twisting all my bones like screws / stretching my self-worth, just like you usually do

i think Pamela thought of Elspeth as a friend helping out

then she's suddenly thrusted out of the house without notice, bags already packed and cab fare paid as if her new arrangements had been already settled.

i cannot begin to understand how hurt she might have been in that moment and what could have been the core drive for her suicide but her death really hurt me the most.

DUO EXSPRESSIONS

Oliver & Ventia / Elspeth - Faerie Soiree

mushrooms everywhere i'm turning / laced with love, intensive grooving / they said, they sail / i know how to make you go crazy every day

the spell he casted on both Elspeth and Venetia

had both woman hooked on him trying to draw that hidden side he only expressed to them in secret.

the Oliver that got Venetia to eat again. the Oliver that had Elsepth stunned at his forwardness and thinking of him even after the incident. the Oliver that would have had Farleigh under his thumb if he hadn't went for the kill so soon.

led me astray to the faerie soirée / alone, alone / now i wanna ride with the magic / lose sight of the gravity of home

he was a welcomed distraction to both of them. a change that they hadn't thought would be influential as he was.

given them both an individual false hope - for Venetia it was a man who showed initiative if only for a moment that could toy with her instead of the other way around; for Elspeth it was familiarity he would give her some sort of normal in the now hollow halls of Saltburn.

it is such a shame both couldn't see past the fantasy until it was too late.

Oliver & Ventia - Moon Cycle

...do I really need to explain?

But in all seriousness,

he bit the cherry down, he's delirious / seeing red figures in his mirrors and / acting like a real tough, furious

giving her a outlet for her parental issues

the first man in a while that showed her dominance in a way that had her changing her whole routine

he says he doesn't care, that he's into this / it happens every time the new season hits

Venetia thought Oliver would be different than Felix's other toys that come to Saltburn, but was disappointed once again.

now he kissing on the ground that i walk on / tryna get another taste, but I'm all cramped up

her dumping him right after Felix found out ( thinking Felix had a private conversation with her ) he was eager to fic things but she wasn't going to play a game with another coward of a man.

juice melting like raspberry pomegranate / it's so scary

" no, i wanted to look at the moon. it's nearly full. do you know what that means? " | " we're all about to lose our minds. "

oh the foreshadowing. Venetia you are too powerful

seeing that version of Oliver ( the one who had her delirious ) the day of the incident. piecing together everything in the end ( you disgusting little nobody. oh my god. you ate him right up. and licked the fucking plate. ) leaving her shocked and broken over what she's done. how close she got close to the cause of it all. frightened by everything

Sir James & Elspeth - Battle of the Larynx

i speak in cursive, i'm poignant, assertive / there's musical chairs in my teeth

Sir ' what i say must be the truth always ' James

thinking about how nothing happens unless he approves. how every order and command that was ever given had went through him first if it wasn't his command to begin with

deciding that Pamela needed to leave, lowering the amount Farleigh's mom gets, cutting Farleigh off after finding out about the drugs, bribing Oliver because he needed normalcy again

and it was all enforced with such urgency too, no question to any of it like he was a general to his soldiers

don't you battle with my larynx tonight / i'll wreck you if you chase me / but i'll be silent 'til you cross the line

Sir James had minimal lines within the movie but whenever he did it held authority.

when something wasn't going the right way he'll interject ( insisting to Pamela at the dinner table that her time was due ) other than that he was silent until called upon

and they talk without thinking / they bark while they're shaking / with teeth that are round and dull

he was the controlling factor within the family and to Elspeth

he knew what was best for her all the time, he knew what she needed all the time, he knew just what to say to get her to listen all the time

i will die on this hill. Elspeth would have let Pamela stay longer if he hadn't said anything to her and she probably would have overlooked Farleigh doing drugs the day of the party if Sir James didn't fight it.

but anyway, James wasn't someone that Oliver could have manipulated, not like the rest of the family so he had to buy time until his death which he got lucky for.

Saltburn would have been unattainable if Sir James hadn't passed really.

Farleigh & Oliver - EVIL

and it felt like bliss, used to miss your kiss / now i'm hop-skip jumpin' over narcissists / ... / now the role is reversed and told you i'ma switch / how you like my spit?

they should have fucked on screen at least four more times your honor

their back and forth. cat and mouse. push and pull. the tension of fighting for the center spot of attention for the family and fucking for dominance would have done it for me

but Oliver had to fuck that up with the email. he could have really controlled Farleigh, lulled him into thinking they should work together for what they want and then hung him out to dry but no Oliver was greedy

the panic in Oliver's eyes though when Farleigh admits to being invited to the party after he thought he got rid of him was priceless

just one foiled seduction after another with him

everything i expressed, i professed / it never quite made it through / ... / no, i won't defend you to all my friends / this time, i refuse

the quips at Oliver's pride. the mentions of getting bored and tossed aside. stating his claim on Saltburn and rubbing it in his face on his birthday. Farleigh played the game well even if he lost it in the end.

if you bite my hand again / i will never feed you, you can call me evil / take it to the grave if you wanna play pretend / i won't be mistreated, please call me conceited

Oliver finding out about Farleigh's private life and family issues and Farleigh's retaliation at karaoke with "rent".

Oliver pointing out their in the same boat offering the mic and how easily Farleigh accepts the mic just like how easily he accepts his role.

shows their difference in it really; Farleigh takes it as it is, he knows what his life has become and what could happen if it ends. and yet Oliver still saw himself as something more to the Cattons and especially Felix.

Farleigh & Ventia - Powder

don't wanna know where you go when you aren't around / i'd rather stay naive, too much to believe

it's past point of no return, when will we learn? / alert me when this shit is over

the acceptance they both have to face in the end. Farleigh in knowing he's been bested and that all his wealth is gone. Venetia seeing how Oliver got to consume her own brother's identity whole and take what was most precious to her.

show me a picture you paint of someone else / lived a double life, wish i was surprised

eyes rollin' back to your head, and i'm wonderin' how / i recognize your face, put it all to waste

will never be the same again knowing that these two died seeing the truth. all the fight was stripped from them piece and left vulnerable to the emotional pain Oliver put them through.

THE CAUSE AND EFFECT

Felix to Everyone - Nymphology

call me your nymph / praise me for martyr, praise me for sin / call me your muse / a sprite or an elf you cry to, then use

Felix was everything to everyone. he could do no wrong as he was the pinnacle; forced on a pedestal he never fought for or against.

everyone wanted Felix. be it to brag about the sex, to have the money or to just let it be known that they were in his circle.

and he lived it up.

he knew the power he had on people and used it how he pleased. ditching his hookups when he got bored, cutting ties with friends that weren't of interest to his close circle anymore.

he knew of the people's infatuation, but no one ever dared to over step a boundary in fear of angering their chosen so he lived like he was untouchable. believed he was on another level to all and got so full of himself he couldn't see the signs of wandering hands getting closer and closer to the unattainable.

i'm not crazy, i'm not wild, you're just stupid, little child / get your image off my back, i'll give you a heart attack

Oliver wanted Felix in both body and mind. the devotion he forced onto Felix, begging and pleading to be his henchman again after being found out.

Felix wanted none of it, the first time ever seeing someone want him on a level of desperate he's never seen and feeling revolted

but Oliver tells it to him the way no one else could, because that is his life. people treat him like a king on his throne and approach in a line offering whatever they can to get his approval. locked in the maze with no guards he was left to see it all as it is.

Oliver to Felix - Pluto / Light Shower but will not elaborate

I think that it's finally time pluto, destroy me / kill me off slowly / i'll bathe in my ashes / rise like a phoenix / show me who I am becoming

Felix bringing Oliver to the point of no return.

cutting him off with dignity for the sake of the family not knowing he made a mistake in judgement.

Oliver not being able to handle being seen, cannot cope with knowing that his infatuation sees his true colors

pluto, transform me / turn off my lonely / i'll sit with my silence / fix all my conflict / show me the demons I'm hiding

yet at the same time, he's free.

he has had his fill of Felix - his fill of the Cattons - whether he wanted to believe it or not.

he had gotten closer than his plan had assigned, so close he's hurt by his own action. crying and fucking his grave as one last show of his 'love' left soaking in the muck.

moving on with no regrets to the next phase of the plan.

Oliver to the Cattons - Milk of the Siren

strangle the fear of deciding / which one's deserving to drown

the montage at the end

Oliver's plan unfolding the moment he laid eyes on Felix. how he watched and waited, studied what would have made him noticeable. Found out his class schedule and he sabotaged his bike, weaved a lie so great that when it was found out he had to die.

tired of silence and being polite / your legs turn to shimmering scales in the night

Oliver hunting the Cattons in the evening. whispers to Elsepth, the peeping tom moments with Felix, following Venetia, fucking Farleigh.

all of it under the moons watchful eye.

don't feel bad when these fuckers all drown / let them drown / let them drown / let them drown

" and you made it so easy. spoiled dogs sleeping belly-up." | " no natural predators. " | " well... almost none. "

nothing wrong with a little havoc (drink from the leche of sirens) / it's fun when shit hits the fan

all the side notes in the script. ( he looks up to see Duncan’s silhouette staring down at him from the hill above. he can deal with that later. )

he had fun toying with them all and becoming the new king. putting all their wealth to a better use than he thought they could.

[vigilskeep]

i admit i’m very curious about minerva and broken circle, like who did she bring with her and what did she think on their comments during the quest? did she spare that one blood mage? why or why not? my surana doesn’t personally, even though they’re a blood mage themself, just because they don’t think the blood mage will be able to get out and doesn’t want to risk the templars finding a blood mage among the mages labeled safe and have them go “oh well better annul them then”. was her fade dream the default with duncan or a more personalized one? reaction to the knowledge that irving was baiting apprentices and is the cause of jowan’s whole thing? opinions on the cullen issue? sorry broken circle is just

omg of course broken circle my beloved

minerva brought zev and morri through the tower. she actually brings alistair into the tower but he has that like lightly toned ambient line as you go in that’s like “as i recall shutting the door and throwing away the key was definitely the templar plan b.” which from minerva’s perspective is like, okay well, i just found out everyone i know including the children and my dad have been locked in and left for dead, so maybe shut the fuck up and save the joking around abt it for somebody else. like i think she’s actually mad at him there and the bit where you have to switch a party member out for wynne is her straight up telling him to get out which is a conversation i’d LOVE to write on. probably v startling for alistair, who has likely never even seen her that upfront angry before except maybe to jowan; she’s usually so diplomatic and controlled and she and alistair are such close friends by then that it would be a Lot. but anyway ya wynne zev and morri! not an ideally balanced team w three mages and a rogue lmao which i think shows how upset minerva was. morri is interesting because on a persuade check you CAN actually get through to her by saying these mages might have been her. morri’s opinions on circle mages endlessly fascinating as ever

minerva did spare the blood mage, yes. this is the stage of her playthrough where we’re directly inbetween telling jowan she never wants to see him again and becoming a blood mage herself, so i think that’s a good beat to show her coming around to the idea

if i am hugely hugely self-indulgent, i love love love to exaggerate the fade sequences and expand on them, so i have a bunch of different concepts for dreams you might try to trap minerva in. that’s so fun to explore and i think that would be more interesting and cohesive in a narrative than trying to actually write through the whole lost in the fade quest. i would love to do obvious hits like, she never got taken from the alienage, she and jowan and lily somehow all made it out of the circle, halliserre’s not tranquil and she’s free to be with them in public, she saved ferelden and now the circles are free bc everyone trusts her so so much and thinks she’s the bestest ever, etc. but i’d also love to try slightly wilder ones she absolutely doesn’t consciously think she wants like: what if she could get her magic taken away or even agree to tranquillity. what if her family had never left tevinter and she was a magister’s student. what if she was dalish! what if she were a blood mage haha that would be crazy right... right? i would love to try my hand at writing all of those and pick a few favourites to make “canon”

reaction to irving baiting apprentices... i think minerva kind of always knew deep down. she and irving were so close and so alike. like it’s a betrayal, but also, of course he would. if it didn’t apply to jowan, if it hadn’t been for all her experiences since leaving the circle, would the person she was back then have even questioned it? she understands irving and even if she becomes more critical of him and her old self she’ll never be able to really condemn him

as for cullen... minerva never thought much abt him in the circle. his attention was unsettling in her position especially with his role in her harrowing but he seemed harmless enough and she was confident in her ability to handle it and that if worst came to worst she could always go to irving abt it. the broken circle encounter makes it scarier in retrospect because she didn’t realise it was such an obsession or that he could be pushed to such extremes. she’s deeply uncomfortable with the whole thing and it’s one of the things that makes broken circle such a marked change in her perspective where ultimately she will never be able to consider any mage safe in the circle even the ones like her who “do everything right”. she would avoid ever talking to him again if she could and it would make her incredibly unnerved by the inquisition regardless of its other figureheads and policies

the visuals of minerva’s return are very compelling i would love to have had the demon taking minerva’s form to appear but as the fragile circle mage w long flowing hair and delicate robes and then for the real minerva to show up bloodstreaked in full armour. chefs kiss

[anya-snow]

MASTERLIST OF WANTED CONNECTIONS

OOC Note: Below you'll find a list of connections I'd love to have for my characters. These connections can be filled by existing characters within the rp, or new ones! Please don't hesitate to reach out if anything interests you. Nothing here is set in stone, all is open for discussion and fun plotting.

For YUAN ANYA ( Read more about her )

YUAN FAMILY: One or two relatives from the YiTish region of Wan. If they're cousins, Anya only has male cousins back in Wan. The WC could be other members of the extended family. Any FC filling this connection must have Chinese heritage.

Helpful links: Yi Ti lore | WC for YiTish people in the North

For CALLA LEFFORD ( Read more about her )

FIRST LOVE/CONFIDANT: Age 31 - 36. Suggested FCs are Chris Evans, Oscar Isaac, Diego Luna, Charlie Cox, Jon Bernthal. You're encouraged to contact me. This character would most likely be from the Westerlands or Westerlands-allied regions. This character's story is entirely utp, I don't have any pre-established headcanons, just that they were each other's first love but ultimately things didn't work out (Maybe his mother didn't approve of Calla's capricious nature? Perhaps Calla's mom, Lanna, didn't approve of him. We can brainstorm). What's important is that they're still close to this day (There could've been some distance during the Dance, but they've found their way back). They're refreshingly honest with each other and have a way of understanding the other, which is something Calla doesn't have with anyone else. He wouldn't have neglected her/shamed her after the disastrous end of her marriage to Garland Hightower.

CHILDHOOD FRIEND: Age 28 - 33. I would love for Calla to have a close friend that she’s known all her life. Could be a friendship that has endured through to their adulthood, or had suffered because of time and distance. Since Calla was little, she was outspoken, capricious, and stubborn af; so this girl could be someone that marches at the same speed or someone with a calmer nature who helps to ground Calla a bit. Anyway, I’d just love a friendly bond, female friendships, and sorority between women is lovely and I want more of it, please. Taken connection → Alayne Farman

For DEIMOS VELARYON ( Read more about him )

YOUNGER BROTHER: Age 27 - 28. Captain of a ship within the Velaryon fleet. The Velaryons siblings can butt heads because they all have strong personalities, but ultimately I think they're there for each other when it counts. Deimos can be stern and callous, but everything he does is for the good of the family and what he believes is in his siblings' best interests. I would love to keep exploring more sibling dynamics with this new brother! Suggested FCs are Freddy Carter, Aaron Taylor-Johnson, Bradley James, Paddy Gibson, Aneurin Barnard.

Helpful links: Velaryon family

For DAERON DONDARRION ( Read more about him )

CLOSE FRIEND: Age 31 - 35. A Stormlander, just like Daeron. These two would have been friends for years now, maybe not keeping in touch at all times, but always easing back into a sort of "found family" vibe. I'm open to any and all ideas, to explore what brings them together as friends and what makes them clash. I just want him to have a bro since his literal bros are dead and gone. Taken connection → Magnus Wylde

YOUNGER SISTER: Age 26 - 31. Suggested FCs are Blanca Suárez, Astrid Bergès-Frisbey, Ana de Armas, Isis Valverde, Alba Galocha, or any Spanish FC/FC with Hispanic heritage. Sibling dynamics are my weakness, so it would be amazing to have this lady in the game. She's the youngest Dondarrion and is a lady-in-waiting to Queen Caerella. Daeron is protective of her since she's the only sibling he has left, which can lead to some ride-or-die vibes or perhaps even her feeling smothered by his big bro protectiveness. There's a lot to unpack in terms of the family and what they've been through with the deaths of the oldest brothers and their mom. It would be interesting to explore what her stance was/is about that. Also, as a woman of Blackhaven (heavily inspired by Basque heritage and as well as the calé people), a woman has a very important role within the family structure. There are beliefs about their virtue and whatnot, sure, but they're very equal in standing to men, especially as wives (once they marry), so she wasn't raised to become anyone's shadow.

[qqueenofhades]

Since you mentioned that you may be taking requests and also that you did that Dreamling oneshot the other day, I would like very much to humbly request an “every one of my family members is an eldritch abomination myself included however I should very much like to just go to uni and hopefully not destroy the entire world thanks” girlfriends, Rose and Nile?

It goes without saying that there are many things about this whole situation -- uprooting her life, moving to a new country, becoming her brother's legal guardian, helping him adjust while still feeling horrendously guilty about not saving him from his previous abusive situation sooner, sorting through her wealthy and late great-grandmother's extensive estate, and trying to start a graduate degree, while the mellifluous tones of Yakety Sax echo constantly through said country's government and she's not sure if the whole place is about to explode in a puff of clown-car smoke -- which are very, very stressful. Rose has always been good at making up more things to worry about, but even she doesn't need to search for ways to whet her anxiety, because it's already there and then some. Not to mention the whole part where she nearly destroyed the universe, became a dream vortex and then un-became it, inadvertently helped her friend have a baby with her dead husband, and almost agreed to let her creepy immortal great-uncle murder her for the greater good, before calamity was averted at the last minute and she turned out to be something called a Child of the Endless. Surely that won't be a problem again. Right?

In any event, amid this whirlwind of chaos, change, anxiety, and effort, Rose is very grateful to have met Nile Freeman, and they've taken to spending more and more time together. They have instantly bonded as young black women from America (or rather, Rose thinks Nile is from America, but she hasn't actually said) who both live in London and have endured the headaches of obtaining graduate degrees in history. Nile finished her PhD at KCL a few years ago, and is now doing that oh-so-fun early-career-researcher shuffle as she decides what she wants to do next, though she's made several cryptic references to wealthy parents who live in Malta and send her enough money to make sure she doesn't sleep under a bridge. "I appreciate it," she says as they walk through Bloomsbury, en route to Senate House so Rose can use the University of London's main library. "And considering all the disasters happening back in 2018, I was lucky to survive, truly. But sometimes I still want to do it on my own, you know."

"Mmm-hmm." Rose looks at her curiously. "What exactly do your parents do, by the way?"

"They..." Nile pauses. They come to a halt at the crosswalk and wait for the light. "You know, this and that."

Rose finds this answer rather vague, but maybe it's a sensitive subject, or Nile just doesn't want to talk about it yet. After all, they've only known each other for a few months, and Rose can't deny that she's very keen to impress the older girl. Nile is so gorgeous, so self-assured, with a strange eerie sheen to her skin and eyes that sometimes looks almost unearthly, but she's definitely the most normal person that Rose has recently met, and their interactions are the most refreshing part of her life. She has a bit (or maybe more than a bit) of a crush on Nile, but is too shy to see if that is actively reciprocated. As the light turns green and they cross, Rose says, "Are you from Malta, then? I thought you were American."

"Ethiopia," Nile says. "I was born there, at least. My parents adopted me a... a long time ago."

There definitely seems to be something she isn't saying, but Rose decides to let it pass, and they spend an enjoyable afternoon working at Senate House. Afterward, they trek off into the Bloomsbury streets in search of dinner, select a charming underground restaurant, and sit down in a candlelit corner. Nile orders her steak rare -- rare enough, in fact, that it's still practically mooing on the plate -- and Rose says jokingly, "Don't tell me, let me guess. You're a vampire."

Nile, who has just taken a sip of some indeed rather blood-red wine, chokes, starts coughing, and takes several minutes to compose herself, as Rose apologizes profusely. But she isn't laughing or treating it like a joke; she looks deeply startled. "How did you -- "

"Wait." Rose frowns. Oh no. Not her nice, normal, lovely friend who-she-kind-of-wants-to-be-her-girlfriend. Not in the one relationship and/or person she foolishly thought was not at all magical, creepy, supernatural, insane, or otherwise weird. "Are you...? I was just joking. I didn't..."

There's a very, very long pause. Nile seems to be weighing something up. At last she says, "If, hypothetically, I was... well, something like that, would you be upset?"

"I, uh." Rose considers what to say. After all, her horizons of what is possible have been recently and drastically broadened, and she's certainly not about to claim out of hand that vampires don't exist. "I don't think so?"

"I'm..." Nile looks around shiftily to make sure that all the other diners are happily absorbed, then lowers her voice anyway. "Technically half-vampire, half-djinn. My dads are one each. Nicky's a vampire and Joe's a djinn, and they sired me together, so it's... a long story."

"Okay." Rose blinks several times. "So your parents are...."

"Magical creatures, yeah." Nile eyes her. "You're taking this very well. Wait, are your parents also some kind of...?"

"My biological parents are both dead, but it turns out that I'm descended from something called the Endless." Rose feels awkward saying it, but there it is. "Do you, er, know what those are?"

"I don't think so. I could ask?"

"My great-uncle is the King of Dreams," Rose confesses, in something of a rush. "Lord Morpheus. Do you know him?"

"Maybe. It's been a long time, I can't remember everyone we've crossed paths with over the centu -- years." Nile nods her thanks as the waiter sets down a fresh basket of bread. "But again, I could -- "

"Wait. Centuries? How old are you?"

There is another long and deeply awkward pause. Then Nile says, "Technically, nineteen. But I was sired in 1104, so that means..." She calculates, then ventures, "Nine hundred and eighteen?"

"I knew it," Rose mutters. She is apparently just a magnet for every ever-living (literally) eldritch weirdo in the Western Hemisphere, and this isn't even touching the fact that her likewise-seemingly-nice-and-normal history professor/thesis supervisor is evidently also an ageless immortal and her aforementioned creepy King of Dreams great-uncle is valiantly attempting to not only date him, but ask Rose for advice. Truly. Her life is ridiculous.

[fruitysourlemons]

Ooo, this makes me really curious about how the girls would react if Yugi has the puzzle in this universe! Do you think that Yami would go easy on the girls since Yugi still cares for them, or would he go ham because of how badly they end up treating him?

Atem's story is a bit different in my fanfic. Priest Seto loses to his father and is corrupted by Zorc. Zorc is undefeated. Priest Seto has Kisara (who became one with the Blue Eyes White Dragon) kill Atem and Mahaad (the Black Magician). Seto usurps the throne of the now destroyed city, though there were -- luckily -- a number of survivors.

Many people were upset that the Pharaoh was killed and didn't want to accept Seto, but they were scared of him and were more concerned with the fact that the Sun, Ra, is dead and their houses and families destroyed. (This world follows more closely to actual Egyptian mythology, so Ra is actually the sun) Three magicians, however, decided they would do something about their lost king. They performed a ritual to revive him, which works, but also curses Atem so he can't return to the afterlife if killed again (he is not trapped in the puzzle and does get to keep his memories). By Atem's power, a new city is created. The people are happy at first, but then mania arises as they struggle to gain food without sunlight and are slowly picked off by monsters spawning in the darkness. They begin to believe they've angered the gods by abandoning their city and bringing Atem back from the dead, so they kill him. But, because of the curse, Atem is left to roam the Earth (Earth canonically being the god Geb) as a ghost.

3,500 years later, in the early 2500s, the goddess Aset (Aset is the Ancient Egyptian name for Isis) feels sorrowful for Atem after three thousand and a half years of watching people die in horrid ways, unable to interfere. So, Aset goes to Meskhenet and Taweret and asks them to give Atem a second life. They comply with the request and Atem is reborn with a new family. His new parents name him Kenji. Two years after, his parents have Yugi. In this world, Yugi is Atem/Kenji's younger brother. The gods still claim Kenji to be the rightful king, so they give the Millennium Puzzle back to him (the gods have been keeping hold of the Millennium Items).

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kenji likely wouldn't immediately know that Yugi is being mistreated. He would be curious why Yugi would join a literature club despite not being into literature, but Yugi would lie and tell him that he thought he should read more, so Kenji would brush it off. Yugi doesn't want to paint a bad picture of the girls because he does like them and considers them his friends. Kenji loves Yugi to death and is very protective of him as a brother, so Yugi always tells Kenji that the club members are super nice and fun to be around so Kenji doesn't hate them.

Kenji would be furious if he were to find out how the girls treat Yugi. But, he wouldn't act on this anger because he can tell Yugi likes them and Kenji would never forgive himself if he made Yugi upset. He would, however, give them nasty glares from a distance. He would also forgive them if they clean up their behavior.

[hi-my-name-is-cosmopathy]

IONC maybe?

Hello! In prior to this post (@dopiysworldsend was the only one who answered so I was rather disappointed—)

Here are characters I haven't made designs yet or fully fleshed out!

Lily

I can assure you this is not her official or final design because this is nothing looks nothing close to her actual occupation—

Lily was a character introduced in Victor Tanzig's “Stories Of Sodor” and died in “Stories Of War” in WW2. Here's her bio!

Lily, in this AU, was a war general. She came from the life of the destitute and died in an explosion during the war.

Due to dying in an explosion, her arms and turn into gun barrels.

Most said she was enthusiastic when she wasn't on duty. She liked telling people stories (and maybe gossip a lil). She also joked around often and seemed indifferent to the ways of life. She was rather boastful of herself and achievement-oriented, as she always bragged about her victories in life and wanted to pursue her dream of living a life of grandeur, like her other family members.

But no one knows why. Most aren't aware of her family background or where from the ashes she came from.

When she fought, however, she was rather ruthless. It seemed like she had no remorse for who she killed and was apathetic to the lives of the horrid soldiers she took, an ability most of the people in the military wished they had.

Even with such a successful life when she was alive, Lily expressed herself with having many regrets and grudges from the past (which is usually perceived as her being dramatic because of the way she expresses it).

Her biggest one was leaving the simple life she could've had with her old Scottish boyfriend, who is long dead by now.

Lily has a cousin, Adam, who is also currently a ghost with her.

The two seem awfully distant for relatives who were very close to each other when they were young.

Edwards Ghost Engine/Falaichte

This ghost is canon in the series, as they appeared in “Scaredy Engines" (was mentioned by Edward when he was telling a scary story about a ghost engine who looks for their whistle in the scrapyards).

They're a part of Donald and Douglas’ family line.

When they were alive, they were trying to rebuild an old Caledon Engine for their late brother.

Only to be murdered the night they were going to travel to Sodor to find the last thing they needed to complete his creation; it's whistle.

So know they escaped from above along with another character to get back their whistle, and they mainly look in the scrapyards to find it.

Ghosts have mogrification abilities, which means they can turn into an animals or maybe a vehicle.

Falaichte mainly turns into the old Caledonian engine they were building, which lead to the ghost story that Edward tells the others about them.

I haven't fleshed out how they died yet, but it probably had something to do their throat because they have a rather powerful seeing voice. Enough to hypnotize someone...

Very straightforward and only focused on their one goal. Doesn't like distractions or getting off course.

Often gives everyone the cold shoulder even to his allies...

Smudger/???

Yeah this little ×××× died in this AU. On the streets. Homeless. Freezing to death after being fired from his railway.

I have nothing else to say about him aside from how he later decides to accompany a young human working in a funeral train service in the Mainland.

Like Alfred, is also a little s—

Will annoy you to death for the fun of it.

Neil

The FIRST ghost on Sodor.

He either passed away to old age or died in an explosion.

Idk yet lol

Is friends with Timothy and is trying to form an alliance with Edward (accidentally spooked the old guy once at Brendam lol)

One of the only sane and fine ghosts on this island.

Is Timothy's emotional support father.

Afton

Mysteriously disappeared. Cause of death is unknown.

I haven’t planned out his powers yet lol

Is bounded to a person called Carietta (or Wanda).

Stuck and can't seperate from her.

Trescott/Thirteen

Remember how I said that Smudger decides to accompany a young man working in a funeral train service in the Mainland? Here he is!

Trescott is his real name, Thirteen is his nickname.

He was considered a misfortune among his family. They named him after the french word “Treize”, which means “Thirteen” (all too conveniently, he was born on January 13th)

They really exaggerated him being unlucky because they just left him on the streets and didn't even give him a name.

Was brought into an orphanage and named Trescott.

He got work as a cemetery groundskeeper because people told him that “you can't bring bad luck to the dead”.

He got tired but was luckily hired as a funeral train driver, where he finally met Smudger.

Is probably used to his so called “bad luck” (considering how indifferent he is now to it)

Hates how much people just judge him based on that and how it's the only thing people tend to associate him with.

The cemetery is his first choice to hang out.

Okie thas it lol there's more to come

[prerodinu]

Holidays! 

So I kinda wanted to give everyone a good Rundown of the holiday’s that the pack tends to celebrate. Their Norse / Viking / Germanic ancestry means that they follow more Pagan holiday’s. If you are looking at the wheel of the year. Most notably you will find the Wiccan one. That one of course was stolen from like several different pagan holidays so plz don’t use it. I am slowly going through and correcting my own lore so that it doesn’t have the wiccan one attached.  The Pack’s holiday’s for the rest of the year (Besides Summer / Spring and maybe some fall holiday’s) are all more family oriented holiday’s meaning the open invite to the pack house (if you can find said house) is sorta revoked. 

I am going to start with Autumn Blot (Wiccan’s call it Mabon or Autumn Equinox depending on what you follow for the northern hemisphere it’s September 21st - 22nd is the Autumnal Equinox). This holiday is between family, friends allies and the like. It is a Thanksgiving of sorts. Lots of food and family fun and games There are a lot of thing’s that are like apple related along with late fall harvest type food. During this time meat would be prepared for winter and the like so it’s mostly a meat fest with lots of veggies. Dinner is often times prepared as a family. So everyone helps out in some way with the cooking which always makes Artem nervous but a lot of mouths to feed means a lot of food. Bon fire is always an ending and pack couples are almost always stealing time alone together. This is one of the ONE holiday’s were it is allowed to have your mate in your lap while you eat. Same rules apply though, no frisky business in front of other’s. Some times with this holiday it will also be used as an olive branch for other packs to come and celebrate with food and all the like. (Mead or red wine is mostly served) Artem and Katia tend to keep it light hearted in nature though and most of the time other pack’s aren’t really allowed unless something random changes like a fight or whatever. Most of the time it’s just the pack and friends. 

Hel’s Fest (Otherwise known as Samhain or Halloween) is a favorite holiday for the pack mostly because they can walk around outside half-wolfed out much to Artem or Alojz / Nyla's dismay. This holiday is also about honoring the dead for the pack, during this time the alter that is outside of their house (different from the one for Velkan) is littered with food, rum, and mead for their departed guests that have come and gone from the pack as well as family. Some of the pack will sit there and talk to the dead, or share food with them. It depends really and most spend most of the night out there. Katia comes and puts blankets over people if they fall asleep outside to keep them warm. Some of the pack believe that Katia is Hel and sometimes will give her food offerings in front of her door during the day. Katia doesn’t say much about it but she doesn’t eat the food most of the time, she gives it back either at the alter or via Velkan on his alter. She understands this food offering and sometimes if someone pushes. She will sit down and eat with them. and have them share the memories of the dead. Artem of course hands out candy when he can and the pack (some of the partiers) will go out in ‘costume’ to the human world as always this is done with caution of course. Everyone goes out in pairs and no one is out alone. This is one of the holidays of course it is possible more hunters than normal are out and about. Lilura also throws a Halloween party in her club. This is sent via invitations to her members and sometimes the pack will come and sometimes they won’t depending on what's going on but it is always a fun time. 

Yuel Feast / Winter Solstice is the pack’s Christmas. It is celebrated on December 21st rather than the 24 / 25th. This is a 12-day and night-long party that leads up to December 21st following the sun's return and anticipation of warmer days. Lots of food is passed around, and presents are being exchanged during these days. The pack spends one day fully outside (this includes mates) picking one of the many pine trees on the property to decorate. This tree is not brought inside and presents and gifts are left at the base of it in offerings for deities and or passed ancestors and the like. The days leading up to the tree decoration are filled with the making of homemade ornaments. Garland of dried fruits and figurines carved from wood or bone. Sometimes popcorn or seeds are used to help that whatever falls away is given back to the earth or the animals around it. Sometimes during this too the pack will go hunting for dinner on the last day. This is also dependent on weather and if there is a game in the area if there isn’t most of the time they just make something. The pack often times gets together and watches stupid holiday movies and spends their time together as this holiday is mostly for family and the children. On the 21st everyone spends time opening gifts together and celebrating the warmer weather. Artem will make hot chocolate (one that everyone loves and demands so much) and everyone ends up spending the day outside before the food is ready. During this time it is common for the wolves to ‘moon walk’ or basically walk through the woods half-naked with their wolf in control. It’s their wolf paying homage to the wolf deities and the like. Sometimes they will come back with a fresh kill and this mostly happens to the same people every year. (Dacian, Katia, Liam, Sophia, Artem, Eva, Oliva, Valéria and Archer) Though it’s always an offering that Artem or Kat is always happy to cook up for the feast. 

PSA: PLEASE KEEP IN MIND THIS IS MY LORE AND TAKING FROM DIFFERENT PLACES TO CREATE MY OWN. MY LORE MAY NOT BE THE SAME AS OTHER MUN’S AND THEIR LORE. PLEASE KEEP THIS IN MIND!!!!!

[thessalian]

Thess vs Grief

There was an article a few days ago about video games and grief - mostly about how, while gaming’s always been a good way of taking your mind off grief, recently games have actually been actually dealing with the subject as a main part of the plot. Which, because sometimes my brain works like someone bouncing subject to subject via Wikipedia links, brought me to something a good friend of mine said awhile ago. Because given the games I’ve been playing of late, and how much I’ve been enjoying them, a few things are becoming clear.

See, back in December, when we had that cold snap and there was snow and ice on the roads and no one was salting anything? I posted on my Facebook that I was kind of sad about the situation. I was born in Montreal. I learned to walk on ice-slick pavement ... well, at the same time as I was learning to walk at all. That instinct never left me, either. Now it’s just that ... well, unless I want to put some version of mountaineer’s spikes on the foot of my cane, the damn thing would be a liability. I’m not even sure that would work, and certainly wouldn’t be good in places where the ice was thin. Anyway, fibromyalgia means I can’t walk on ice the way I used to, and I definitely couldn’t risk the fall. So I was a little sad about that.

My friend talked about “the folly of comparing ourselves now to ourselves then” and "comparison is the thief of joy” and something about how we’re different and we shouldn’t look at that poorly. And it took awhile to really understand why I was so upset at him about it. I know he meant well, so I didn’t say anything, but after awhile, I figured out the words I needed for this (though far too late to actually call him on it). The words were these:

“Let me fucking grieve, godsdamnit!”

Because I am. I am grieving for what I could do before everything was made of pain. It’s a process. It’s a long, miserable process, but it’s an important one. It’s like losing a friend or a family member - life goes on, yes, but you’re probably going to end up tripping over something that reminds you of the loss at random intervals for the rest of your life. So, yeah, I’m sad when I realise that I can’t walk on frozen streets anymore - not because “I should be able to do this because I have places to be and I’m letting someone down”, but because “That skill is one of the last things that I in and of myself keep from the place where I was born; that’s a piece of of myself that sings of home, and it’s gone and it’s never coming back”.

There are a lot of things that are gone and they’re never coming back. A careless grocery shop where I don’t have to read the labels of every fucking thing that goes into my cart. Day trips to fun parts of the city. Late night walks in the summer to cool down. Running for buses. Conventions (though I will take the risk if the Critical Role crew ever reschedule the MCM Comic Con appearance they had to miss because it was during the early-ish days of Covid). The cinema. Travel to any significant degree. A general sense that I will at least be able to get up and function most mornings. Umbrellas (because holding up an umbrella for any length of time hurts like hell). Boogieing to music on my headphones (unless it’s a very good day). There’s always something I’m finding I can’t do because it hurts too badly to do it, and thus I grieve in small stages over this one huge loss.

So I think games like I Am Dead and Lost Words: Beyond the Page and Spiritfarer helped me because they reminded me that it’s okay to be grieving. There are stages of grief for a reason; they don’t make the grief go away, exactly, but they teach us how to cope with it. Of course, I don’t know that I’ll ever get to the ‘acceptance’ stage, or maybe I’m already there, I don’t know. Just because you’ve accepted the loss doesn’t mean you’re not going to still feel sad or angry or disappointed or all of the above when another facet of that loss comes knocking.

...I guess the only difference is that if it’s a person you’re grieving for, you can say things like, “They would have loved this”, or imagine them watching you from Wherever Comes Next and cheering you on, or something else that lets you still feel close to the person who’s gone. That’s harder to do with ... you know, physical health. Maybe that’s why I started gardening, and being more inventive in cooking, soon after my diagnosis - just to feel closer to “active and abled and Doing Things”, I don’t know. I reap the benefits either way.

Point being ... yeah, most of the time I’m all about, “Yeah, I’m used to it”. But sometimes I’m not. Sometimes I’m angry or sad or asking what I did to deserve this. And that’s probably always going to be the case. But it’s just ... a lot bigger than “comparison is the thief of joy”. Because comparison is not the thief of joy. Even with the fibromyalgia, I look at who I am now compared to who I was ten years ago and I am just ... so much better. But ... I can’t even want “just one day without pain” because I know - I absolutely know - that if I had total relief from pain for one day, that pain would feel worse when it came back. But sometimes I wish for it anyway. I wish it was easier. I wish it hadn’t happened. I have to carry on having a life, obviously, and I do so as well as I can with my current limitations. Hell, in some ways I’m doing better than I was before the diagnosis.

Just ... please never ask me not to be sad about it. I am allowed to be sad about it. And angry. And frustrated. I am grieving, and as long as I’m doing it in a healthy way (which I think I am; I can certainly function, at least), I fucking deserve to grieve. And if some of the help I’m getting to keep the grieving process healthy involves video games? ...Hey, I love video games, so silver lining.

[berryscaryskies]

Venus Generation: Ray Jr Solare aka RJ

"You were the perfect child, straight As, good manners, and always did as you were told. And you grew up to be a beautifully mysterious and difficult-to-reach adult. You don’t have many friends or any friends really. People have said you’re a bit “toxic” to be around, whatever that means. Having found it so difficult to connect with those around you, you look towards the past in hopes that it will bring you some sort of understanding of mankind."

-Growing up Ray Jr didn't care all that much for the attention of his peers, and genuinely preferred to be sequestered alone in his room studying his archeology and paleontology books. His family member's would often comment that he got his loner tendencies from his dad. Unlike his father though RJ really has no problem with opening up to people and being honest, sometimes he can be a bit too honest. The only person who really seemed capable of standing of his bluntness was his cousin Danny who found it funny.

-Danny died in a rather tragic accident early into their shared high school experiences, this shifted RJ's perspective quite a bit, suddenly finding he didn't Like being alone with just his thoughts and his books on long dead people. So He started seeking out friends, which quickly shifted into seeking out Romantic Relationships. He rushed into things quickly with each guy he met and most of these relationships didn't last long. The most noteable form this point in time being Dion who he shared an intense and fairly toxic relationship with.

- After breaking up with Dion the next guy he sat his sights on was Tobias, who was soft and sweet and wanted to take things slow. Which was a new experience for RJ, but he found he liked it. The two moved in together eventually too, and even had plans on getting engaged. The closer they got to the wedding the more distant and snippy Tobias became. Then the night before Tobias broke not just their engagement off but the entire relationship, claiming it was just too much commitment and he wasn't ready to settle down the same way RJ was.

- Broken hearted, a bunch of RJ's friends (who he hadnt been romantically involved with) took him out for drinks the night of his would be wedding. At the bar he met Toni. The two hit it off and has just Amazing Compatibility. Which then led to a fun one night romp together, which then led to a little accident baby named Chirimoya.

-Chirimoya is the Light of RJ's world and he showers in love and care, Toni and him aren't in a romantically relationship, but they co-parent impeccably. 

-RJ likes to take Chiri with him on digs as a way of bonding and involving her in the work he cares so much about. She enjoys it a lot too and as started developing her own fossil collection!

A screenshot of RJ (tho from when he was a teen) and Chiri's other parent Toni.

Plus a cute moment of RJ helping Chiri and her friend Alice with a project

[xxruinaxxmcu]

Jack Thompson x Reader

What Lies Before Us 

Masterlist (Book 1 and previous chapters) 

Chapter 10

“You don’t really think they want to pull a Lincoln on Truman?”, Jack asked, visibly irritated after hearing Y/N’s explanation about the meaning of the 5th of November.

“I have no idea what it means, if it’s literally or figuratively”, she shrugged, “But it means meddling with politics, that’s for sure. And if Peggy’s intel is right, they already killed a president once in 1901.”

“And you think they work with the mob for that?”, he questioned sceptically. Again, Y/N wasn’t sure about it – after all, all she had to go on was a piece of paper.

“I don’t know”, she replied, “but if you would want to kill someone, having the Mafia do it is arguably the best way to do it. The public can easily be fed an alternative explanation as to why they targeted the person in question, whether that is Truman himself or some other guy in a suit.”

Though they had very little to go on, Thompson decided to inform the Secret Service about it, in order for them to make sure that they did thorough background checks on their members, and to make sure no actual assassination plot would be successful. They needed more time to figure out what the actual plan was, and he really didn’t want it to end with the Commander and Chief being killed.

Y/N attempted to make contact with Lorenzo, but she had to make sure that it would not be seen as a meeting with federal agents, and she didn’t exactly have his phone number. She did remember a restaurant he often frequented when she initially met him, so she hoped his taste hadn’t changed. She pretended that she had found his wallet in the establishment, asking for an address or a number so that she could return it to him. She was lucky – they did have an address left behind, so she went to check it out, making sure she wasn’t being followed or observed by anyone, to verify that it was actually his address. Rather than waiting for him there, which she found too risky in case he came home with another mobster, she decided to disguise her note in a letter that looked like an electricity bill. Which was technically forgery, but who’d check that?

She left behind a post box address to which he could post a letter to, which, again, she found safer than meeting him in person. It would take considerably longer, but then again, it was for his own safety, too.

Jack was still figuring out how he was supposed to have a life next to his job – during the war, combat was all that really mattered. Sure, he had his friends to worry about, to have fun with when they weren’t in action, but essentially, there was no past, there was no future. Everyone knew that they could be dead the next day if they were in the field. But that also meant that whenever he took up his weapon, that was all that mattered – getting that next mile of territory, securing the next position. He thought a lot about home, never getting to see his family until the war ended. Or Y/N. In the first months at the SSR, actually, until he was shot, that’s how he continued. It was always about work, about closing the next case, and it felt like he couldn’t stop for one minute because the world hung in the balance.

Unfortunately, he realised, the world would almost always hang in the balance. If he waited for ‘things to pass’ to have a life, he’d be dead before he’d know it.

“Sousa, SSR.”

“Couldn’t make it any shorter, Danny-boy?”, Jack asked with a grin, placing his feet on his desk.

“Jack. Anything on the Arena Club? Peggy mentioned something about ‘5th of November’.”

“Yeah, apparently it’s some English poem about a guy who wanted to kill the king, but failed”, Jack explained, “it could be what they’ve got in mind. Just that we’re not a monarchy.”

“They’re after Truman?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out, genius.”

“Right”, Daniel exhaled audibly, “If we find anything on our end, I’ll let you know.”

“You nervous?”

“What?”, Daniel asked, obviously confused, “Why should I be? It’s politicians and mobsters, Jack, by now, that’s our most common gig.”

“I didn’t mean the case”, Jack specified, “I mean your future.”

“The wedding?”, Sousa asked to confirm, “Uhm, no, I mean, it’s just a change of formalities, essentially. Why’d you ask? Terrified of asking yourself?”

Jack grit his teeth. It wasn’t that he was afraid Y/N wouldn’t say yes, he was just… unsure about the circumstances. “Don’t you wish for your life to be, ya know, less dangerous before tying the knot?”

“Then I should’ve set out to marry someone very different to Peggy, Jack”, Daniel stated amusedly, “a boring life and her don’t really go together.”

Rubbing his chin, Jack nodded, remembering after a second that Sousa had no way to tell that he was, so he added: “Yeah.”

“Look, we might never get a month off, but you’ll be able to find one day to get married. It doesn’t take much. If you’re lucky, your girl won’t drag you half-way across the world to do it, too.”

“Ha, I bet you’re ecstatic to meet Family Carter”, Jack grinned.

“You kidding?”, Sousa shot back, “I couldn’t imagine something more terrifying than that!”

“You’ve probably never been disliked by anyone in your entire life, Danny-boy, so I don’t think you’ve got reason to worry.”

“There was a time I was pretty sure you hated me.”

“Yes, Sousa, I think there was a time where apparently everyone thought I hated them”, Jack retorted, both sarcastic, as well as intently self-aware.

Sousa seemed to think for a second what to say, and eventually he replied: “I’m sure Y/N never hated you.”

Jack scoffed: “You’d be surprised. I’m quite sure the one time I almost knocked a guy’s tooth out because he’d groped her back in high school, she did kinda hate me.”

“You’ve always had a charming temperament, then”, Sousa said and Jack could picture his grin by the sound of his voice.

“My most winning attribute, I’m sure. Had to practice throwing a punch somewhere, I guess.”

“Thompson, you better get your act together after basically arranging my ceremony”, Sousa urged, “And don’t you say ‘when it’s quiet’, because that’ll never happen, clear?”

“Cristal.”

“So you’ll do it?”

“Eventually, sure”, Jack evaded, now very eager to end the call. “Well, Danny-boy, I’ve got to come up with a speech for your day. And call me if you find anything on our case.”

“I’ll beat your ass with my crutch if you don’t get your act together by my first wedding anniversary, I swear to God, Thompson!”

Jack grinned before ending the call. That gave him at least more than a year to play with. Though he doubted that his nerves would dramatically improve over time.

…….

With their plane currently somewhere over the Atlantic, Y/N eyed the water intently. It felt strange heading back to Europe after a few months away, it felt like returning to something one wanted to leave behind for good, but which was a different place already since her last stay.

“You’re fidgeting.”

She looked at Jack, who apparently had woken up to provide her with an analysis of her gestures.

“Didn’t think I’d be back so soon, if I’m being honest”, she remarked, though she was grateful that they’d be headed to London, rather than Paris or Berlin.

Jack tilted his head back, closing his eyes. “Tell me about it.”

“About what?”

“About London. What did you do there? I’ve been there once, for virtually a day, to get Peggy’s – or not Peggy’s – file. What’s it like?”

Y/N didn’t really know how to answer that, it was hard to describe a city.

“It’s… old. I mean, for us, from America, it’s just an old city. They’ve got castles from the Middle Ages everywhere”, she began, and trying to recount the city made her feel less on edge, “they’ve got these very typical townhouses, most, I think, from the Victorian period. They’re drafty as hell, though.” She laughed at the memory of the tiny corridors of the houses, where, for some reason, it always felt like an air current was present. “The river Thames is pretty muddy, I have to say. But they have beautiful bridges everywhere, London Bridge most famously. It has a lot of parks, but be careful. The squirrels inside are so used to humans, they practically want to sit on your shoulder. Otherwise… a lot of the city has to be rebuilt. The Blitz definitely scarred it.”

“How long were you there?”, he inquired, noticing how talking about it took her stress away.

“Several months, for training purposes. It was rather odd, though, considering we were training for something without having expertise to go on. There were no veterans for us to ask about technique”, she shrugged, “We had to make it up on the fly.” She paused: “And then, at the end of the war before being discharged. Was strange to go back there, seems like so much had changed in relatively short time.”

Opening his eyes to take a look at her, Jack continued his questionnaire: “What’s your favourite spot in the city?”

“Not really original, but Hyde Park. I loved spending time at the pond that they built there”, she said with a smile, “It reminded me of Central Park.”

“I bet you sat there reading”, he guessed – and her laugh told him that he had guessed correctly.

“In all fairness, I had to become perfectly fluent in a language. I had to read Goethe somewhere. Da steh’ ich nun, ich armer Tor und bin so klug als wie zuvor, and all that.”

He huffed amusedly. He half-remembered that line coming from one professor way back when, and he was fairly certain that it was in Faust. A book he never bothered to read, even with an English translation available.

“Right, your turn”, she said, “Tell me about your time outside of combat.”

He pulled a face: “A lot less scenic, I’m afraid. In early 1944, we were brought to Camp Pendleton. It was hot and humid, like California is. Were damn glad when we could leave that place, or at least I was. But I guess it helped me in the long run, the weather in the pacific was also hot and humid.”

“Just what you love”, Y/N commented with a grin.

“Yes, so next time Sousa and Carter ask us to fly to L.A., we meet them halfway in – whatever – Kansas.”

“Nothing’s in Kansas.”

“I’m sure we’d find some case there”, he remarked with a shrug.

“You think the Mafia has a new offshore company in Wichita?”, she asked amusedly.

Again, Jack only shrugged: “Maybe they’re interested in planes, too.”

After all the talk of humid and hot weather, London posed the exact opposite. It was mid-November (and yes, the 5th of November came and went without an assassination, confirming Y/N’s suspicion that the riddle was more a hint than a plan), and the weather in England’s capital was windy and chilly – so not that different from New York, to be fair.

And, of course, for good measure, it was raining.

“Merry old England”, Y/N announced when stepping off the plane and pointing to Jack’s hat, “Hope that sits tight, ‘cause otherwise it’ll end up in the Thames, for sure.”

The actual ceremony would be near Green Park, at St. James Church, which was a small, but picturesque church in the city centre. They had flown in with only a night to spare, the next day, they would have to be ready – well, especially Jack had to be ready with his silly (or so he thought) speech that Sousa had asked him to deliver. Why, he still wasn’t quite sure. There had to be a thousand more qualified men in Sousa’s life for such a role, whether from his time at school, or even from his time in the army. Did he really think his best choice was him? Jack Thompson, who called him ‘our biggest yo-yo’ after Krzeminski’s death?

If so, Thompson felt a bit sorry for the guy. But, he was a responsible man, nonetheless, so naturally, he tried to muster up a speech that would at least be considered okay-ish.

“Can I see it?”, Y/N asked once they were in the hotel room as she watched him go over his lines again.

“No”, he replied with a small smile, “I think these types of things are supposed to be surprises to everyone, no?”

“To the groom and the bride, maybe, but not to me!”, Y/N protested, but for once, she was unsuccessful at getting him to falter. Instead, she faltered to his invitation for a kiss.

“Why me?”

“Why he asked you to give that speech?”, Y/N asked back, guessing what he meant, “I suppose you’ve worked together on saving the world, that’s something.”

“No, I meant you”, he sat down on the bed behind him, his gaze interrogating her, “why’d you stick with me?”

“What?” Y/N wasn’t sure if she heard correctly – sure, Jack Thompson was often harsh, and pushed people away, and rude, and conceded, but he was also – well, he was Jack. Why wouldn’t she have stuck with him, when she knew what he could be? “Why are you asking me this?”

He shrugged, as if the question wasn’t weird at all: “Just tryin’ to understand your rationale.”

“I don’t really think about it”, she confessed with a scoff, “I mean, when you do something particularly reckless, like getting shot, then I might think to myself – why did I fall in love with a madman? But on normal days?” She shrugged: “I guess I don’t. I didn’t have a particularly cordial relationship to my parents since adolescence, and being a spy makes any real relationships impossible. I guess you’ve been the closest to a constant I’ve had, and yeah, we argue, but we both love to argue.”

She expected a sarcastic remark back, but was greeted with nothing but a nod. A bit irritated, she sat down next to him and took his hand with a dry smile: “And if it means anything, as much as I stuck with you, you stuck with me for some reason, too. I try not to think about your reasoning, either, otherwise, I’d just terrify myself.”

Now, that was something Jack could really not understand. Because Y/N was Y/N – not only was she quite possibly the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, though his metrics might have been off, given that ever since high school, he had believed no woman could compare with that. But it wasn’t just her beauty, she was brilliant, which was both impressive and frightening, brave, which was definitely terrifying, strong, arguably even more stubborn than he was, and despite everything she’d seen, been through and even done, she was still kind.

And there he was, the bogus Navy Cross winner with the nightmares he couldn’t shake, with the inability to let people close, the medallist who was rewarded for his cowardice, and the idiot who repetitively trusted the wrong men, getting Dooley killed, getting Krzeminski killed, and nearly causing the Second Coming by siding with Vernon. This really was no competition, and he had no idea why he was still in the game.

……

The two of them left Piccadilly Circus station, and unfortunately, Jack was not yet used to the traffic being on the wrong side of the road, so when checking for traffic, he looked in the wrong direction and was greeted by a very annoyed Brit honking at him and Y/N.

“Why the hell did they think it was smart to drive on that side of the road?”, he complained annoyed.

“First of all – I think they were first, and I doubt your rant will make them switch”, she replied with a grin, “so you might be better off just looking in both directions next time. But don’t worry. Happened to Churchill too, when he visited America.”

The church was already decently filled, most people, neither Jack nor Y/N knew – Angie aside, together with the Howling Commandos, who Jack vividly remembered. Some others, given their accent, Y/N guessed were friends of Sousa’s, possibly from his time in the army. And somewhere in the mix were the parents of the soon-to-be-weds, too.

The two of them were ushered into the front part, as Jack would have to make his way on stage for his speech at some point.

The proceedings began with the onset of music, which muted the talking of all the attendees. Jack, to be completely honest, paid very little attention to the pastor leading the service – in hindsight, he realised that his mother would have been appalled. But he was too busy staring at his notes, eventually earning an elbow to the side by Y/N.

“You’ve done it for Stark with like five minutes’ notice, you’ll be perfect”, she whispered barely audibly.

He only clenched his jaw – these two things could hardly compare. Besides, the speech he had given for stark might just have been the Oxford Dictionary definition for awkward.

What brought him back to reality was seeing Sousa standing in front, obviously nervous, too. So, to be a good friend, Jack tried his best to appear calm.

Peggy looked beautiful. Her dress’ skirt was loose, the top had a beautifully embroidered neckline and bust, and the sleeves were cut just below the elbow. She looked fantastic. Jack knew when the vows were exchanged, though he paid so much attention. And for a moment, it wasn’t that he was thinking about his stupid speech, no, he was thinking about Y/N. Would she be willing to do the same? Did she want it?

He glanced to the side, meeting her eyes and she gave him a bright smile. Did that mean yes? Did she read his thoughts yet again? Or was she just happy for Sousa and Carter?

Then, he had to go. Luckily for him, it was a bit like turning a switch. He might be nervous before, but once he knew he had to run, he’d run. No point in being nervous anymore.

Standing in front of the gathered, in front of the newly-weds, and in front of Y/N, he cleared his throat.

“When I was asked to deliver this speech by Daniel, I have to say, I pitied the guy”, he began with a sarcastic remark, which Y/N could only scoff at, “As our work together doesn’t really leave much time for cordial exchange. But possibly, it’s exactly these moments that test a person’s true character. Repetitively, Daniel has proven to be the man you want on your team when catastrophe strikes, and the man who’s willing to do whatever it takes to keep everyone else safe.” He paused for a moment, looking at Carter: “It’s – unfortunately – a quality Margaret shares, which ends more often than not in a competition of sacrifice. Both of them have saved countless of lives, mine included. There’s very little about either of you that’s conventional, and I’m sure, that’ll be the tale of your marriage, too. Margaret, Peggy, I doubt you’ll ever be what your grandmother might have envisioned her granddaughter to be. It won’t be easy for some to accept that. But one thing, I can say, both as your former boss, as well as – if I may say so – your friend. The US, and the world, can only be grateful for your unorthodoxy.” He gave her a lopsided smile, as she pulled a sarcastically surprised face when he called himself her friend. “Sousa”, he then continued, “we’ve had our share of disagreements in how to run operations, but I’ve never doubted that you’d one day be a great husband. I’m not sure if you’ve gotten lucky, or if I should warn you, probably both, but you know Peggy better than I do – if you expect her to agree with you on everything now, just because she wears a ring, you’re sorely mistaken. In any case, it has been my upmost pleasure to work with the two of you, and despite the name-change, I hope, for the sake of country and president, that we will continue our cooperation into the future. Thank you, and, Peggy, Daniel, good luck, and congratulations.”

He had forced himself to not lose sight of the two, because he suspected that if he had looked at Y/N during his speech, he would have forgotten his lines. Returning to his seat, Y/N gave him a reassuring smile: “See? You did great.”

He returned her smile, though he was curious to know if she had figured out his reason for being nervous. He hadn’t been afraid to screw up his lines and mess up Sousa’s and Carter’s big day, though, if he could avoid that, that’s obviously preferred. No, he was afraid because he knew what he had to do next, and it had nothing to do with his friends’ wedding. Did she suspect anything? She’s a spy, theoretically she could’ve gone through his things without him noticing. But she wouldn’t do that, right? He noticed he was fidgeting with his hands – she had even told him that she knew that he did that every time he was uncomfortable. So he forced himself to stop, spending the remainder of the ceremony being incredibly self-aware of every fibre in his being.

…….

Y/N was a bit confused that Thompson had scheduled their return flight for about 48h after the ceremony concluded, which left one day with hardly anything to do – it wasn’t like they could hunt down leads on the New York Families in London, albeit the crime levels were high in this city, too.

“And you’re sure you don’t want me to call the airline to check if they have an earlier flight?”, she asked the next morning whilst brushing out her hair, “I’m sure Stark could get us on a different one.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure I don’t want Stark’s help”, he scoffed, “he’s the last person I want to be indebted to, and I’m sure McKinley and the rest can handle another 12 hours without my in-person supervision. They know how to reach me, I left them the hotel’s address.”

Y/N shrugged, accepting his decision.

She liked London, despite it feeling incredibly self-indulgent to her spending time here, knowing that they had an open, incredibly important case on their desks back in New York. But she also didn’t want to fight with Thompson over workload, considering he hardly had a life outside of work. His overtime alone would probably be sufficient for a month of holiday, so she kept her mouth shut.

“Thinking about Mr. Hayes and the rest of the goons in suits?”, Y/N guessed during breakfast, noticing Jack’s tense stare into his coffee cup.

He blinked, as if he had barely heard her, but then replied: “Yeah.”

“We’ll figure it out”, she said positively, “I’m sure of that. I’m less sure of how that will affect our company’s reputation, though, considering some of them are basically our employers.”

Thankful that she had went with his half-hearted response, Jack had now paid attention to her and decided to go with it. “That’s true, but I doubt they’d have the leverage to get to us. Unlike other agencies, we actually found our moles. And we brought down Underwood, that should count for something.”

“I hope you’re right”, she agreed with a small smile.

Jack grabbed for his coat and hat, having made peace with his life in that moment. He’d just have to get it over with, because he was in no shape to continue this mental game with himself for longer. And the big downside of dating a spy, so he realised, is that it was incredibly difficult to keep secrets – well – secret. “C’mon”, he said with a grin, “You’ve got to show me the city. All I know so far is a church and a pub.”

“Then you’ve got the top experiences down already”, Y/N replied sarcastically, getting her own coat and hat before leaving the establishment. They were lucky – today, it wasn’t raining, and for it being mid-November, it wasn’t even that cold. They spent the morning around Covent Garden and Strand, before, after lunch, they were approaching Marble Arch.

“That over there, that’s Hyde Park”, Y/N said, pointing at the large park behind the monument.

“The Park you went to?”, he asked, though, in all fairness, he had memorised the name. after all, it wasn’t a long one, and he was cultured enough to know Jekyll and Hyde, so he could easily remember the name.

“Exactly. Practically learnt German under these trees.”

For a while, they walked quietly through the park, headed towards the pond that was built within the park.

“Can’t say life has exactly gone as I would’ve imagined it in High School”, Jack eventually scoffed, “Neither being shipped off to war and fighting an unknown dark matter, nor having to travel to a different continent for a wedding, nor having to hunt down some shady mafia connection of some American millionaires.”

“That last part is arguably the least surprising”, Y/N replied with a grin. “And yeah, neither did I. But here we are”, she sighed slowly, “and with all the drawbacks and the dangers, and all the nightmares… I don’t think I’d change a thing if I could. I don’t want anyone else to do it in my stead, and to be honest, I don’t think I could do anything better than I can do this. Whatever that says about me.”

“Probably that, by all your talk about me being reckless, you’re probably not the most risk-averse person, either.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow: “But at least I try everything I can to minimise it. You, on the other hand, have a tendency to barge into a room of people with the intention of killing you without a bulletproof vest.”

“Now you’re grossly overstating it”, he smirked.

“Nah, I find it a pretty accurate representation.”

She heard him huff in response. “You wouldn’t change a thing?”

She thought about the question for a while, watching the pond in front of them. Sure, there were many things that she messed up on the way, that would have been nice if they didn’t happen. That would have saved her from pain, or that would have saved someone’s life. But she was too realistic to know that even if she hadn’t made a single of the mistake that she did, other mistakes would have happened, and some people still would have been hurt. Possibly, the outcome would have been even worse.

She shook her head: “…No, actually. I think I have made peace with most of my mistakes. And every decision, good or bad, every time I managed to save a life, every time I failed to do it, every time I took a life, it all led me to this place. And I’m content with that.” If she hadn’t made these choices, if she hadn’t entered the SSR – if she hadn’t gone to L.A., then he would be dead. So even if it was irrational, but every mistake was worth it if it got her here. They had given her the chance to save him.

Lost in her thoughts, in memories both painful and joyful, she had completely ignored Jack next to her. Granted, she had seen him move from her peripheral vision, the pattern closely mirrored someone bending down to tie one’s shoelaces, so it didn’t get her to turn her head.

“Well, I would change something.”

“Huh?”, Y/N was brought back to reality, turning her head around – and freezing mid-way. All she could see was Jack on one knee in front of her, grabbing a box from the inside pocket of his coat whilst clearing his throat. She could see his hands shake – funny, why she noticed these miniscule details, even though she herself was in complete shock, she couldn’t say. Perhaps it was that it had become second nature to her by this point.

“I thought of what to tell you, and nothing came to mind. You’ve been with me every step of the way, even on the beaches of Iwo Jima. You know me better than anyone, and to be completely honest, that is actually terrifying”, he cracked a nervous grin, “(Your Full Name), will you marry me?”

Pedestrians had stopped in their tracks to watch the scene. Yes, that was the downside of a proposal in public, but good for them – no one knew them, so at least they’d never run into these people again.

Y/N worked quickly to overcome the initial shock, knowing that she had to say something. She felt a burning sensation in her throat, but she didn’t feel the need to cry.

“Yes”, she croaked – at least, she thought she did, though it wasn’t as bad as she had imagined it – whilst feeling an urge to laugh, “Yes, of course!”

The little gathering of pedestrians that had waited for her response started clapping, which both Jack and Y/N found quite embarrassing, but also somewhat charming as Jack forced his hand to remain still to put his mother’s engagement ring on Y/N’s finger.

Standing up, he kissed her, albeit fleetingly, as he really didn’t want to give the British public a first-row seat into their intimate relationship, but despite the circumstances, he felt like the weight of the world had just fallen off his shoulders.

Y/N had reached for his hand, sliding up to his wrists, and laughed before she whispered: “Why were you that nervous? Did you think I’d throw the ring into the pond?”

“Trust me, I’ve been through every possible reaction in my head at least ten times, and that would not have made the top ten of the worst outcomes”, he replied with a grin.

The crowd started to disperse, until only one elderly man remained behind who walked up to them, sternly looking at Jack before saying: “Good sir, you do understand this was a decision for a lifetime?”

“Yes, sir. I do intend to make it last just as long, too.”

The old man started to smile, before tipping his hat and walking away.

Jack turned around, looking in awe at Y/N – in awe for many reasons. He didn’t quite understand how he got so lucky in life. Sure, he did a job that should count for something, tried to fight the good fight, but he was far from perfect. In some sense, he was above and below average at the same time – his brilliant moments were far above what normal soldiers or agents usually did, but his worst moments were far worse than just little hiccups. They got people killed, or even worse, he killed people that didn’t deserve it. He was moody, and had a short temper, was quick to judge, and stubborn beyond belief. He was quite certain that Y/N could have easily gotten a better deal in marriage, not just in terms of personality, but also in terms of prestige and stability. He hardly exuded luxury.

Nonetheless, he was also just in awe from her reaction.

“I think that is the first and only time I will ever witness you at a loss of words”, he remarked with a grin before leaning in to kiss her again – now, without an audience, it could be just a bit more than a fleeting kiss. But, regrettably, they were still in public and open display of affection was, in Britain as in the US, scorned upon.

“I expected a lot, Mr. Thompson, but I must admit, to my shame as a spy, I didn’t expect this!”

“I have to say, it was also something in between having it planned for a while and a split-second decision to actually do it, because if I had planned it more in depth, I was fairly certain you’d figure it out”, he replied sheepishly, causing her to laugh.

“When did you even find the time to buy the ring?”, she inquired whilst looking at it.

“Didn’t have to, pop gave me the one ma once wore.”

Y/N stared at him wide-eyed – first, she was touched by the sentimental value of the ring, but she also wanted to know when that happened: “What?? But… when? You only saw him that once during dinner!”

“Yeah, and apparently ma should have been a spy, too”, he shrugged, “Cause she wasn’t at all convinced by that co-worker story. So she gave him this to give to me when you two left the room.”

“I can’t believe it”, Y/N laughed, “she didn’t even truly know we were more than friends!”

“She’ll probably be over the moon”, Jack guessed, knowing how often his mother had historically asked him about girlfriends and family plans.

“And they’ll never know that you ended up proposing to the one ‘fishing a bullet out of your sternum’, which is truly unfortunate”, she lamented jokingly.

“Maybe if you’d held on to the bullet, we could’ve made our wedding rings out of it.”

“Thompson!!”, Y/N elbowed him, not mentioning that she, in fact, did hold on to it, “That would have been macabre and probably bad luck! I don’t want a thousand diamonds, but I don’t want to have a constant reminder of death around my finger, either.”

He chuckled, finding her outburst rather amusing. “I’m sure we’ll find something less traumatic.”

……..

The two of them walked into Peggy and Daniel in the hotel lobby, who were just as confused as Y/N had initially been that they were still here, rather than having left right after the wedding.

“L/N, Thompson, what are you still doing here?”, Sousa asked, brows raised, “I would’ve bet you left England as soon as possible.”

“Why, do we seem so partial on New York?”, Y/N asked back, “Of course, no city can truly compete, but still.”

“Oh my God.”

Y/N had been too focused on Sousa to notice Peggy investigating her from head to toe – though her investigation abruptly halted when she had reached Y/N’s hands.

Sousa followed his wife’s stare, only for Thompson to take Y/N’s hand to practically hold it up to their eyeline.

“There you go, Danny-boy.”

“You two”, Y/N said with a laugh, “Are absolute idiots.”

“Agreed”, Peggy chimed in, and all four of them laughed, knowing that both of them weren’t too serious.

“But hey, at least you’ll get to visit the wonderful city of New York at some point in the future”, Jack remarked, picking up on Y/N’s earlier comment.

“Oh, yes, I already started to miss the unparalleled friendliness of New York”, Sousa retorted.

“That’s why we work there and it’s Jack’s office”, Y/N said with a dry grin, “that’s exactly our kind of crowd.”

A/N: First of all, I hope you enjoyed this rather different type of chapter!! Also, yes, all the details about the location in London is the product of first hand experience, as I walk past this church every single day! We’ve reached about the half-way point of book two, I think! So still approx. 10 more chapters to look forward to. I’m so excited for you to read the next - let’s just put it that way. England’s not the only foreign location this story will take Y/N and Jack! As always, every comment, heart and reblog is extremely appreciated!

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Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 3: Mild Spoilers Review.

Wow…what a movie.

There's an argument to be made that this is the best film in the trilogy. The action is eye-catching, the character arcs conclude or wrap up satisfyingly, and emotions and stakes keep the audience hooked the entire time. Marvel fans have been understandably upset or split by the quality of projects released over the last four years, but it seems universal that Guardians of the Galaxy Vol.3 is up there as one of the best MCU projects. A mere fact.

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 3. follows our favorite band of universal misfits in the MCU after all the Thanos and Infinity Stone shenanigans. Avengers: Endgame brought back Quill, Drax, Mantis, and others after being snapped away, a different version of Gamora into the timeline who has no romantic inclination towards our dear Star-Lord, and gave some depth to a character like Nebula, who held the fort down for five years as everyone returned. Then we got the Christmas special which was a fun romp, focusing more on the spectacular chemistry Drax and Mantis share (which I'll touch more upon later) and provided the big reveal early on how Quill and Mantis are related. One way or another, many members of the Guardians received some attention and care prior to this movie, their final hurrah together.

What about Rocket? The other Guardians member besides Nebula, who survived the snap and also helped hold the fort down, assisting the Avengers in their heist and bringing back his family, had some time to shine in Endgame, but not so much in the special.

Well, this film is all about him. Rocket Racoon. He's the emotional crux of the movie, and my god, does it work.

Mild spoiler here if you haven't seen it, but Rocket becomes predisposed for the majority of the film. Being left on life support, Quill and the others scramble across the galaxy to find a way to save his life. Rocket lacks interactions with the others for most of the movie, but he still manages to harbor plenty of screen time as writer and director James Gunn show us one of the most heart-wrenching origin stories for a character in a superhero time in forever.

It is…so hard, damn near impossible, to keep a straight face or avoid being teary-eyed when you see the tragedies that Rocket had to endure as a test subject while as a small animal with his friends. Any scene with young Rocket or Rocket fighting for his life on life support is the equivalent of being bombarded with rigorous eight-ton punches to the heart. This shit was kicking my feelings in the ass. This is Rocket's movie, and you best not forget.

Besides Rocket, the rest of the Guardians and the actors portraying them are on their A-game. Quill is scrambling to keep his friend alive while balancing dealing with his previously dead, now undead, and uncaring ex-girlfriend, Gamora. The dynamic Quill and Gamora shared in the first two GOTG movies and in Infinity War was special. Their relationship blossomed into a beautiful love before coming to a tragic end at the hands of Thanos. Now all that goodwill and the fond memories they shared are nothing as this Gamora wants nothing to do with him, and he struggles to get over that fact. By the end of the film, the two come to a conclusion fitting for their new circumstances. She will never be the same Gamora he knew, and he comes to terms with it.

Coinciding with their fantastic dynamic is Drax and Mantis. Quill and Mantis may be siblings technically, but how Drax and Mantis interact here is similar to a bickering sibling dynamic. It's hilarious. They're hilarious. Dave Bautista as Drax has always had funny one-liners, but Pom Klementieff as Mantis helps him bring out the hilarity within him and vice versa. The progression of Drax the Destroyer to who he becomes is stellar, as well as Mantis, who makes a huge decision at the end of the film. And a shout out to Karen Gillian as Nebula, who is endlessly entertaining in GOTG3. She has come a long way since being a servant of her father, Thanos, and has some of the best scenes or sequences in the film.

The action scenes are to behold, but there's one in a hallway that is just perfect. Between that scene and the hallway fights in Daredevil, Marvel does not miss those particular types of fight scenes, I swear.

If there's one more aspect to highlight, it's Chukwudi Iwuji as the High Evolutionary. I recall seeing him first in Peacemaker as Clemson, and he was excellent in that, and he's even more so here. The HE is one of if not the most unlikable, despicable villains in the MCU. He's easy to hate, menacing, delivers great lines ("There is no God, that's why I stepped in!" is cold as fuck), and is a perfect foil for the story, for Rocket, and for the Guardians. He's arguably the best villain in the trilogy, but I slightly prefer Ego more than him, personally.

Rounding out excellent performances across the board and top-tier action sequences are hilarious jokes or visual gags. As much as this film may bring you to tears, it's equally likely to make you bust a gut laughing. The Guardians have excellent chemistry across the board, working off one another and providing many humorous one-liners.

The soundtrack is also worth noting as just superb music choices, especially the final songs they end on.

The only gripes are probably that a few jokes fall flat, and I would've liked just a little more time with the HE, but besides that this film is amazing. Long live the Guardians of the Galaxy. 4.5/5.