#i will probably add more quotes to it but those are the only two that really stuck out to me today

[confused-and-dickless]

I know this fandom well. Dead. But consider. I had to doodle about this silly show. First time ever posting drawings on my blog, please everyone be so niceys to me

CHIEF MY LOVE I AM SO IMPRESSED WITH MYSELF ON CAPTURING YOUR LIKENESS. HEAD NEEDS TO BE WIDER BUT CMON THAT'S PRETTY FUCKING GOOD

[chlorinecake]

Rabbit Hole | S.JY

▹ PAIRING: ex fling ! classmate ! jake x f. reader

▹ GENRE: smut, scandalous, college au

▹ SYNOPSIS: In an attempt to escape your past life by running off to a new university, you end up encountering a former lover—one that you never thought you’d see again, and one that you’d soon realize was bad news all along…

▹ WARNINGS: KINKTOBER SPECIAL, foul language, humiliation kink, kinda dubcon because I need therapy, mentions of anal play, ft. other idols, mild bullying, switch!jake x switch!reader, lots of dialogue, degrading kink, impact play, light bondage, oral sex (m. r), unprotected sex (not for you), hair pulling

▹ WORD COUNT: 5.9k — DAY 7

Monday

Today, your current university was hosting its annual day of orientation for newcomers and recently transferred students.

You found yourself here after being promptly expelled from your previous university, a victim of being framed after someone planted hard drugs in your gym bag—an incident that still leaves you unsure regarding who set you up in the first place…

Fortunately, however, the transition to this new college was seemingly smooth, as many of your closest friends were also attending this institution, speaking in your honor and defense to the enrollment officials countless times.

And so, as a freshly admitted student at a prestigious college located more than 100 miles from your former campus, you were eager to leave your old life and watch it burn behind you.

Though, as your cousin would often quote from one of those shitty Max Payne games he played all the time, You can't run from your past. You will end up running in circles until you fall back down into the same hole you were trying to escape from, only the hole's grown deeper.

Orientation had just ended about forty minutes ago, and like several other students, you decided to treat yourself to a nice coffee at the campus café.

However, you never anticipated running into someone you met along that gruesome 100-mile journey—someone with whom you shared a fleeting romance that you never thought you’d see again.

A fling, you might add, that you met during one of the darkest times of your life.

It was a reckless and foolish decision on your part, honestly… after all, being drunk and horny simultaneously was a combination that rarely ended well—

“I offered to pay you for sex and you said you’d do it for free!” The man shouted back at you with his frustrated brown eyes flickering behind his glasses.

And by now, everyone in the cafeteria was staring at you two—

“No the fuck I didn’t, I don’t even recognize your lying little face!” You clapped back, standing up from your table now as you angrily started shoving all your belongings back into your backpack.

A couple of pencils awkwardly clattered to the floor, but you didn’t bother to retrieve them. They were from Amazon and made your notes from orientation look terrible anyways… cheap fucking ink—

“You were a kinky bitch, too… wanted me to call you mommy while I fingered your asshole in doggystyle and everything.”

“Oh, your pervy little imagination is really running wild today, isn’t it?”

“You keep saying calling me ‘little’ when you could rarely even take me without being prepped!”

“I’m calling you ‘little’ because I don’t even know your fucking name for crying out loud!”

“It’s Jake, and you know that already, so quit playing dumb… you also told me your name when we hooked up in August, but it was probably a fake one since you thought I’d be stupid enough to not remember your face…”

Zipping your last backpack compartment, you sighed at his words, “I’m sorry to hear you’ve mistaken me with someone else, Mr. Jake, but you have to stop with these false claims… I’m not the girl you slept with…”

“Seriously?” he scoffed, shaking his head at you in disappointment as his gaze roamed over your entire frame… “You’re even wearing the same bra…”

His voice trailed off, and you stared at him with wide eyes as if he had just plunged a rusty knife into your miserable gut.

He was right. He was honest… and there was no escaping him now that he had figured you all out.

“I’ll see you in class this week,“ he sighed sullenly before walking off, looking back at you once before fully exiting the shop.

You made a mental note to never let him humiliate you again… even if you couldn’t physically prevent it, you planned to avoid it at all costs…

Tuesday

“He said all of that in public?” Your friend Ningning asked.

“Yes, and in the middle of me ordering my coffee, too…”

“He’s so disrespectful,” Minji added.

“Despicable… he was even shouting it all at the top of his fucking lungs…”

“No one kicked his crazy ass out?”

“No… and I guess that’s a good thing because we both looked fucking insane in that moment…”

“You still haven’t told us why he said all of that to you though,” Juria went on.

“I figured it was probably posted all over the internet by now…”

And you retelling them would only make you relive the incident all over again…

“Well let’s hope not, because a video like that could really ruin your academic standing… even his…”

“I seriously can’t risk that happening again, you guys… there’d be enough proof for them to accuse me this time, too… probably speculating that I was higher than a cloud in that café…”

“Noooo, let’s not even think like that, okay baby?” Juria soothed you with a comforting hand to your back.

“She’s right, everything’s gonna be alright… this’ll just blow over like every other video online,” Minji added with a smile.

“Oh my God…” your friend Ningning exclaimed while looking at her phone.

“What? What is it?”

“You said his name is Jake, right? I just found his Instagram, and his bio has our uni’s initials in it.”

“Yea, I forgot to tell you that part, too… I’ll apparently be seeing him again in English class on Thursday… and every week after that…”

“You need to look into getting transferred to a course with a different professor ASAP,” Minji suggested.

“She can’t. Deadlines already closed for class registration,” Juria added with a pout that mirrored yours.

Though at this point, Ningning was the only one smiling.

“What now, Ning?”

“I mean… y’all are just gonna have to hear me out on this one, but why’s he highkey hella attractive?”

“Give me that,” Minji said while snatching the phone from her, only for her mouth to create an O shape at one of his pictures.

“Relax Ji, you can’t slurp his soul through the screen,” you joked, which only egged them in even further.

“You should give him a second chanceeee,” Minji continued.

“After you just agreed that he’s a disrespectful little cunt?” Juria asked sarcastically.

“Look, I’m just tired of us being the single and hot friend group. It’s not a good match.”

“Mhm… we need a beau to chauffeur us around… buy us designer bags and take us to dinner…” Ningning added.

“Yessss. I’m tired of hookup culture, I need somebody reliable… you should ask him if he has any other hot friends!”

“Ooo, or a brother!”

“You guys are insane,” you chuckle, sitting back in your chair now as you know you only have a few more minutes before class starts.

You didn’t wanna tell your friends what really happened because you didn’t want them to judge you. And although you had a good feeling they wouldn’t, you were still too ashamed to confess… to admit that you had lied to the poor guy, and needlessly to as he wasn’t even trying to get anything from you.

He probably only stopped by to say “Hi” to a familiar face, but you panicked when the truth started to come out…

Wednesday

You were so close to calling in sick and just skipping class for the whole day, simply to avoid bumping into Jake.

But you knew that was a cowardly idea that would only negatively affect your attendance in the long run.

So, after some careful consideration, you came up with your own solution; you planned to wear the most provocative outfit you could find, just to get revenge by teasing him all day.

You wanted him to experience the embarrassment he had put you through when he exposed you in the café… you craved the feeling of being in control of him again.

Though, you knew it wouldn’t be easy because part of you still had a soft spot for him…

He was so caring on all those nights, prioritizing your pleasure while still achieving his own… and then right after, he would ask you about your life, to which you foolishly responded with complete honesty every single time…

You told him about what happened at your old school, about how you were transferring to a new institution, and even details about your family life…

So, when you unexpectedly ran into him on campus that Tuesday, it wasn’t entirely shocking… he had even followed you on Instagram that same day, tagging you and other students under a post entailing his excitement about “finally starting his academic journey on the right track.”

Jake was clearly keeping tabs on you, and you couldn’t fathom what he could possibly want, but you knew it had to be something, and you weren’t gonna sulk over his nice guy act any longer.

Sure, you recall him mentioning his plans to pursue personal projects, but those ambitions have to include you in some way, otherwise, why the fuck would he even be here?

The past version of you would allow such uncertainties to intimidate her, but the new you was ready to stand firm. You had to; it was the only way to change the dynamics of your relationship with him.

Thursday

Straightaway upon reaching the classroom after running up and down the halls for what felt like a second lifetime, you finally made it in.

It didn’t take long for you to spot Jake either, as he was sitting in one of the closest seats he could probably grab.

Nerd, you thought to yourself, making your way towards him with your lace-up Mary Jane heels clicking behind you.

The desks were two-seaters in this class, so you’re lucky enough to have snatched a spot with Jake before some other whore did—

“So you’re not disgusted by my lying little face anymore?” He asked almost immediately after you got settled in the chair, slowly meeting your eyes as if to shame you. Intimidate you.

“Oh I definitely still am,” you corrected, crossing your legs beneath the desk, “I’m simply just sitting next to you…”

“Right… and are you still going by that fake name these days?… What was it again… Raychel with a Y?”

“My real name is ____, alright? Not like you didn’t know that already after stalking me down online—”

He let out a breath through his nose, “I didn’t stalk you, ____—”

“Don’t call me that,” you interrupted, making him look down at his desk for a moment before snickering to himself at your tone.

Your adorably stern voice…

He always found it cute whenever you tried acting like the one who held dominance out of the two of you—

“What shall I call you then?” He asked while smirking, and you resented the way it made your insides flutter.

“Pretty,” you said plainly, and he quirks a brow at you.

“P-pretty?”

“What, do you disagree with that?”

“No,” he clarified, eyes shamelessly checking out your outfit now, “not at all…”

You were wearing a tight white button-up that exposed all your cleavage with a high-pleated skirt and heels.

And if anyone looking didn’t know any better, they’d probably think you were either trying to seduce the professor or get away with wearing borderline lingerie in public—

“There has to be a reason you approached me on orientation,” you began again, reaching in your backpack to pull out your notebooks and stationary, “why?”

“Well,” he started while clearing his throat slightly, “you can’t blame me for wanting to reconnect with an old lover, right?”

“Friend, Jake… we were just friends…”

“Okay, okay, whatever you wanna call it, but,” he whispered, leaning closer to you now as he spoke right below your ear, “wasn’t the sex just amazing… Pretty?”

You angrily swatted his hand from your thigh, to which he snickered at you.

Again.

“Listen, I’m an entirely different woman from the broken one you met two months ago… what we had was nothing,” you whisper-yelled, eyes filled with frustration.

“It certainly doesn’t seem like it was nothing,” Jake said, but his expression had lost its luster as his resting face became blank, and you’re just now realizing that your hand was gripped around his neck tie.

Click click.

The sound of the classrooms front door sounded, craning open with a loud creak to reveal the long-awaited English professor, the bustling classroom gracing her with their full attention.

“Good morning, my bright and wonderful students,” the heavy-set woman announced with glee as she walked up to the chalkboard, “anybody miss me?… No? Just my puppies at home? Okay, let’s get started then… You youngsters can call me Ms. Thompson, by the way!”

God—you sighed within yourself at her attempt to be likable despite her egregious sense of humor—Thursdays were going to be a lot longer than you anticipated…

“Uhm, Britney Spears, why don’t you come up to the board for me real quick,” the teacher said about thirty minutes into the session, and you were so lost in your head, you hadn’t even realized.

“It’s ____, ma’am,” you corrected her, not wanting to have a permanent nickname on the first day of college.

“Could’ve fooled me… anyhow, let’s make our topic of arguments a little more personal now… is there anyone in this room who you’d like to envision as your target offender?”

A smile creeped upon your face at this opportunity, “Yes, actually.”

Your eyes went straight to Jake, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know exactly who you were looking at, especially with the way his face looked now.

“Great! Come on up, Misterrrr…”

“Sim,” he said shyly, standing right beside you at the front of the class.

“Now, state your stance on the following argument, Ms. ____. Today’s topic issss,” her voice trailed off as she fished through her pile of notecards, “The Relevance of the Past in Shaping Identity!”

The classroom air grew thick with anticipation, as mostly everyone in the class had seen they way you two were acting earlier, and the café video that went viral earlier that week.

Though, given your outfit, you were already in the mood for attention today, so this was the perfect topic choice for you to spark a heated debate.

“I just think the past should be left in the past. We shouldn’t let it define who we are today.”

“Could you be more descriptive?” Ms. Thompson urged.

“Well… my view is that we shouldn’t associate any sort of relevance to our past selves and experiences, as we only limit what our future selves can achieve,” you clarified, trying your best to sound confident.

The professor nodded at your words, and you nearly giggled at the look on Jake’s face now.

“Any students in favor of ____’s stance?”

You noticed a little less than half of the classroom raised their hand, with one student in particular extending her hand above everyone elses.

“Yes, Ms. Castillo?”

“I agree with ____’s stance as I believe that humans should treat their lives as the butterfly by means of metamorphosis, where we reflect on our past, reject it, and eventually transform into something more beautiful.”

“This is especially true for victims or survivors, as they might view their past as a hinderance to their growth and finding new identity,” another boy added.

Crossing your arms, you watched as Jake cleared his throat like he always did, right before saying the most annoying shit imaginable.

“You see, that’s where you’re wrong, class. The past is crucial to our character development. You can’t just pretend you’re from a different walk of life or… I don’t know, change your hair a little bit and call it an identity swap…”

A murmur of agreement and disagreement rippled through the class up until a voice from the back spoke up.

It was Alex, a student known for their liberal insights. “Um… sorry to interrupt you Jake, that’s offensive to queer and transitioning people. Please use more inclusive language.”

A few students behind Alex snorted at their words, but Jake’s face flushed with realization, and he nodded respectfully.

“You’re 100% right, Alex. I didn’t mean to offend anyone. I just think that our experiences are relevant in shaping who we are, and that no amount of ‘make-believe’ can erase the impact of the past on both our present and future lives…”

Jake is handling this much better than you thought he would’ve, even though he was picking at his nail bed like a madman.

Ms. Thompson is quick to sense the growing tension though, and steps in before the debate lasts the entire class duration.

“Alright, everyone. Let’s remember that we’re here to learn and respect each other’s opinions. ____ and Jake, you both have valid points. The past can be both a burden and a guide, however, it’s ultimately up to each individual to decide how they let it influence their present and future.”

The class fell silent, reflecting on the professor’s words while scribbling copious notes down in their notebooks.

You flashed Jake a glance, one that he couldn’t read at first, but it still made him feel uneasy.

“So uhhh… that’s how you have an opinionated argument, everyone!” The teacher chirped awkwardly, “you may return to your seats, Mr. Sim and Ms. ____… thank you to everyone who participated in this portion… now, as we turn to page 13, we find that…”

Friday

At the end of class yesterday, Ms. Thompson assigned you and Jake to produce a group PowerPoint presentation by the following week, and you weren’t dreading it as much as you could have.

Your little tough and mean girl act seemed to have successfully scared Jake into some submission towards you… plus, you were having way too much fun teasing him everyday to turn down an opportunity to hang with him one on one.

You both were currently sitting in the campus’s private library to do research on your topic. It was relatively late in the day, so no one was there except you two.

By now, you had already punked Jake into bringing you coffee from the café that was literally a 20 minute walk away, and into agreeing that he’d produce most of the project on his own, but your fun with him hadn’t ended just yet.

Sad as it sounds, he just looked too cute while reading to himself in the grand brown chair across from you… you wouldn’t dare leave him there to study in peace, not while you were in the mood for chaos.

“Jakeyyy~” your voice sang with a cloyingly sweet melody, making his face flush with embarrassment behind his thick-framed glasses at the nickname.

Closing the book he was reading, Jake walked over to where you sat with your foot extended before him, a messy cluster of shoe strings dangling at your ankles.

“A little help here?” You continued, subtly squishing your breasts together with your arms while looking into his eyes.

“Sure,” is all he says as a small smile overtakes his feature. Kneeling down obediently before you, he took your ankle into his grasp, getting to work at re-tying the shoelace for you.

“Thanks,” you say, leaning forward to ruffle his hair as he taps your other foot, signaling for you to lift it so he can re-tie the lace there it as well.

“I didn’t just call you over here to tie my shoes though, Jake,” you whisper, drawing his gaze from your shoes and up to your eyes.

He holds back a sigh, and his chest expands because of it, “What else is it that you want then, ____—“

“Pretty,” you corrected him, moving your foot from his grasp only to let your leg fall, gently pressing the weight of your foot into his bulge, “we talked about this yesterday, Jake… you will never address me by my first name, understood?… Or is that too much to ask?”

Jake felt his whole stomach tense up at the feeling of your foot pressing into his groin, and he tried his best to get a solid answer out, knowing that prolonged silence would only bother you further.

“N-no,” he breathes out shakily, barely meeting your gaze now as the temperature in his face became hotter and hotter, with a mix of his own arousal, embarrassment, and anger, “I u-understand, Pretty…”

You let yourself smile at his compliance, releasing the pressure from your foot in his lap.

“So pathetic,” you announced, watching as he caught his breath on the ground, “I can get you to do anything for me, can’t I Jake?…”

He’s silent for a moment, making you feel impatient now that he was resisting all of a sudden.

“Jakey, I asked you a question—”

“And you really shouldn’t talk to me like that unless you want some sense fucked into you,” he retorted, making your eyes widen with genuine shock at his sudden boldness.

“Excuse me?” You asked with a scoff, but your voice gets lost in the sound of him getting up from the floor, standing over you, caging you beneath his frame in a way that intimidates you.

Jake had been swallowing his pride with you for long enough, and wasn’t gonna let another day pass without putting you in your place.

“I’ve been getting real sick of you treating me like this, y’know that ____?”

But before you can even think to answer, he’s reaching for the cup of coffee he fetched for you earlier and bringing it to your mouth, a ring of condensation glistening on the desk.

Trying to maintain your dominance, you let out a feigned laugh of amusement that Jake is quick to cut off with his stern words.

“Jake, what is this, huh?” You asked, giving him a fed up look even though your heartbeat was beating faster than the speed of light below his dark gaze.

“Drink it, ____….” He orders with a deep voice, eyes becoming so dark now that you can’t even bring yourself to refuse.

And you’re impossibly annoyed, too… by the way he’s very intentionally using your real name while simultaneously making you feel as feeble as a fairy.

Hesitantly bringing the cup to your mouth, it doesn’t take long before Jake smacks the coffee out of your hand, leaving the cold liquid to spill all over you.

“Jake, what the fuck?!” You shouted, shivering as the caramel-colored liquid trickled into all the intimate crevices of your body.

“How embarrassing,” he said, shaking his head, “making such a mess of yourself in front of me…”

Balling your fists, you look him dead in the eyes as you shout, “That was all you’re doing, you stupid fucking clutz- JAKE, s-stop that!” Your voice cracked at the feeling of his hand smacking you across the face now, surely leaving a cut in your lip as he soon went to squish your lips together into an odd shape, maintaining a painful grip.

“If only your brain was as big as your tits,” he clicked his teeth, wearing a somewhat neutral facial expression at first until a smirk started tugging at the corner of his lips…

“And now you’re crying?” He scoffs, almost as if both annoyed and amused by the moisture forming at the beds of your eyes.

During all this though, your mind was in a complete haze, not being able to wrap your head around how innocent he still looked while talking to you like this…

Hell, even his cheeks were still blushing, and you could tell he was getting harder behind his pants.

Jake caught onto your staring though, swallowing the urge to just fuck you right then and there.

“Take off your top,” he demanded, releasing your face from his grip and taking a few steps back, “I can’t believe you even want to be called ‘pretty’ while wearing such a filthy thing…”

“Who cares? You still got hard just from looking at me,” you jabbed back through a wobbly voice given your tears.

That’s when a feeling of chills ran up and down your skin, and it’s hard to keep up the tough girl act once Jake started unbuckling the belt he wore, keeping an intense eye contact with you the entire time.

“Just like old times,” he said, making your organs irk at how easily you found yourself falling down the same rabbit hole with him, but things were far too gone to turn back now. You complied with his words, sliding your top over your head and exposing yourself now, the swell of your breasts looking so delightful while cupped in the lace of your bra.

“You’re making this too easy for me,” he grinned, tossing his belt to the floor with a clink before closing the space between you both, still standing up as he slides his fingers against your scalp, gently gripping the hair.

But it feels so good that you almost purr at the contact, even though his behavior was a bit unsettling to you.

That’s when he landed another smack to your face, snickering at how loud you winced given the sudden shock of sensations.

“God, what the hell is wrong with you?” You yell at him, trying to escape his daunting frame but you have no chance against his strength, especially not while sitting down in a chair… “You’re a freak, Jake!”

You kept wrestling beneath him, provoking him to yank your arm harshly and pull you out of the chair and onto the floor, your bare knees hitting the floor with a thud.

“And you’re a little bitch,” he bit back, handling your body with ease as he situates you before him on your knees, taking your spot in the chair and spreading his legs.

And his belt isn’t too far from him now either, compelling him to reach down for it and use it to secure one of your wrists to the chair before finally shimmying his pants down.

So lost in your thoughts, you watch with a mix of fear, disgust, and anticipation at the erectness hiding behind his boxers, just as his taunting voice resounds again.

“C’mon, ____… it’s about time you make good use of that big mouth of yours…”

With teary eyes, you watch as his full length slips out, smacking against his abdomen as the burning in your restrained wrist feels worse now.

Everything feels worse now… you had never felt so humiliated in your entire life.

He tapped the tip of his cock against your lips, using a thumb at your jaw to pry your mouth open and push himself in.

And as much as you didn’t wanna admit it, you were enjoying this a lot more than expected…

You had always preferred men who were more on the submissive side, and Jake, being a nerdy introvert, was no exception to that craving.

However, you didn’t mind him getting a little rough with you either, and perhaps that’s why you felt ashamed for it… you felt vulnerable with the idea of admitting you liked being someone else’s play thing…

“Stroke me like you used to, ____… ‘atta girl,” he groaned, watching with pleasure as you let your free hand find his shaft, stroking the bass as he kept your mouth secured around the tip.

And as embarrassing as it sounds, you felt yourself getting wet just from sucking him off, the sounds of your own throat gurgling around his length being a turn on for the both of you.

“I bet you still haven’t even told your friends about what really happened between me and you, huh? Imagine if they knew your lips liked sucking my cock just as much as they liked lying…” he slithered, keeping your head angled back just enough for him to get a full look at your face while you took him in your mouth.

Jake soon catches onto the way you’re closing your thighs together as tears continue to well in your eyes, and he lets himself snicker at how needy and pathetic you looked before him...

“What is it, Pretty? Hm? Don’t want your friends to find out about how much of a raging cock-slut you are?”

You moaned softly as he gently pulled your head from around him, and a string of your own saliva and his precum keeps you two connected as he finally loosens the belt around your wrist.

“When’d you get so mean, Jake?” You asked weakly, voice a bit raspy now after taking him in your mouth.

He almost couldn’t look you straight in the eye after asking that, but he had to keep his act going… he had to put you in your place—

“I only get this way when I have to,” he practically whispered, and part of you couldn’t even get annoyed with him for it.

You felt the same just a few moments ago, and you’re just now realizing how much you and Jake really have in common—

“Get up,” he ordered, and you listened, standing on shaky legs as he pulled your panties down, letting them rest at your ankles as he stood up to meet you.

Without speaking, he simply pointed at the chair he was just sitting in, and you’re given the opportunity to choose the position.

You decide to get back on your knees, bend over the chair, and stick your bare ass out for him, and he snickered at the sight, kneeling down himself now.

He ran a hand over the curve of your hip before landing a hard smack there, his own cock twitching every time you winced.

After this, he wastes no time in gliding his cock between your folds, right before plunging his tip into your sloppy cunt and groaning at the feeling.

“Fuck~,” he cursed under his breath, trying to adjust himself inside you, “has it really been so long that even your pussy’s gotten tighter?”

“Well your tiny cock definitely didn’t get any bigger- nghh~…,” you whined through a bitten lip, trying to suppress your moaning as he started to bottom out, over and over again.

“And here I was thinking you’d actually shut up for once,” he sighed, but his voice was clearly being affected by the way you felt around him.

He had been missing this… all of it, and not even just the sex. Jake wanted more to come out of your relationship with him, but if this is how you wanted to play, so be it—he still got something good out of it.

You can’t remember what you were going to say, but your thoughts were harshly cut by the feeling of his hand pulling you up by your throat and holding you close to his body.

“Let’s see… do you still squirm while having your tits touched? Do you still squirt just from the sound of my voice?” He whispered, and your breath was so restricted that all you could do was pant pathetically.

His released his grip pretty quickly though, only for his hands to find your breasts and fondle with them as he picked up the pace of his thrusts.

“J-Jake,” your voice bobbled, given the strong impact of his hips behind you, “d-don’t you fucking dare…”

“What do you mean, Pretty?” He asked, snickering now at the way your thighs trembled briefly, “you’re a flashy little bitch, but that doesn’t mean I can read your mind…”

You groaned at his words, feeling lightheaded now that his tip was brushing up against your cervix.

“Don’t… fuckkk~… don’t tell anyone about this…”

“Which part of this, hm?” He asked knowingly, “the part where I made you cry or the part where I finish inside you?”

“N-not any of it, just- please…” your words slurred, and your heart started to ache just as much as your core with a mix of worry and desperation.

Of course, you were enjoying every part of this, but you didn’t wanna face the embarrassment that’d come with it if anyone found out…

Just imagine it… how down bad must you be to (1) let a guy hit it after treating you like shit, and (2) in the middle of the campus library of all places?

He’s slamming into you so hard and fast that you lost track of your thoughts again, and the squelching sounds coming from the two of you only adds to the warmth growing in your faces—

“That’s really what you want? Huh?” Jake asked with a low growl to his voice, and all you can reply with is a string of whiny yes’s.

“Beg for it louder,” he demanded, “beg for me to keep fucking you like a good little slut…”

And you did, letting your hips bounce to a rythme with his thrusts as your high drew closer and closer to approaching.

“P-please, Jake! I’ll do anything! I’ll be a g-good cock-slut just for you if that’s what you want… I-I’ll even let you cum in me,” you stammered, only for your pleading lips to trail off as a symphony of moans ripped through your body, his harsh hand smacking your ass one more before holding you in place by a handful of your hair.

“Yea, Pretty? Want me to fill your juicy pussy up with my cum? Gonna let me fuck it back into you nice and slow? Yea?” He rambled breathlessly, panting in place of groaning so he could get his words out better.

Crying out another yes, Jake’s hip plummeted into you as hard as they could, your breasts rocking back and forth with the force until you finally felt it; your walls pulling him in as his first spurt made you shiver, and then his second spurt made you climax.

“Awww, fuck!” You whimpered, shaking beneath him as he rode out his high inside you.

It didn’t take long for him to stand up, though, and just in time to pull up his pants and readjust your panties before the library doors creaked open as a new soul joined the space.

It was a girl. You could tell me the gentle hums that bumped from her throat, echoing off of the shelves of books.

“____! Minji said I might find you studying here, so I came to check since you’ve been hiding from us… And don’t even think about scolding me for yelling in here!” The voice called out, and you immediately knew it was Juria from her accent.

She had just came back from class to return a few books that she borrowed earlier, and your heart never pumped as fast as it did when Jake landed a harsh smack to your clothed cunt while holding you in place, even though you tried squirming away.

Everything in you was fighting to avoid being caught like this, and even more so because Juria was literally 30ft away from you two.

When she finally made her way over, though, the poor girl nearly dropped the stack of books she was holding, delicate eyebrows furrowing behind her silky bangs as her lips asked the words, “What on earth happened over here?”

You were sitting beside a now standing Jake with your cold ass right against the tile floor as you lazily slumped over the reading chair, being too fucked out to bother moving.

Your hair was a mess atop your head and your outfit was totally disarrayed, foggy mascara smudged beneath your swollen eyes and your whole body reeking of bittersweet aromas.

Juria couldn’t put a finger on it, but she knew something had happened. Something off…

“She spilled coffee all over herself…” Jake eventually answered, an aura of emptiness being present in both his expression and tone… an eeriness that made both you and Juria tremble in the knees…

From that moment, he simply walked past you both, looking back only once before leaving… he glanced at you first before looking Juria straight in the eye, his expression only now softening as one last line escaped his venomous lips…

“Such a silly girl, isn’t she?…”

⋆♱✮ Thank you to everyone who made it to the end of this fic, which actually concludes DAY 7 of my Kinktober Event !! If you're interested in reading more works like this, feel free to check out my main enhypen masterlist or my kinktober masterlist by clicking one of these links !!

⋆♱✮ PERMANANT TAGLIST:

@squoxle, @nishiimuranights, @ashgonedash

@yourmomscuntis2tighy, @wonbinisbabygurl

@watamotee33, @addictedtohobi, @ot7sevenlvr

⋆♱✮ KINKTOBER TAGLIST:

@pasteltheghost16 @fawnpeaks @melonvrs

@mheretoreadff @skzfelixlove @inishij

@yaorzu-blog @andromedawillburyyou @ramyeonzprincess

@zaihypen @simjaeyunns @gardenwonnies @hynier

@idontknowhowtomakeusernames @enhymeowz @minhosimthings @stormy1408

@crownj1min @jay-0n3s @gacktsa @leeknowinggg

@d-dilemma @mrsjohnnysuh

[alpaca-clouds]

The Punk-Factor of Punkpunk Genre

So, when I posted my history of Solarpunk, someone (probably not in good faith) asked: “So, what about the punk in all the other punk genres?!” towards my request to put the punk back into Solarpunk. And given that my autistic brain obviously cannot just let that stand… You know what? Let me talk about the other punk genre and in how far they are “punk”. I tried to be as exhaustive as possible, though there is a good chance, that I might have missed some of the punkpunk genre. So feel free to add.

Trying to judge the punkiness I do not assume punk as simple counter culture, but a specific ideology. Quote from Wikipedia:

[Punk ideology] is primarily concerned with concepts such as mutual aid, against selling out, hierarchy, white supremacy, authoritarianism, anti-consumerism, anti-corporatism, anti-war, imperialism, conservatism, anti-globalization, gentrification, anti-racism, anti-sexism, class and classism, gender equality, racial equality, eugenics, animal rights, free-thought and non-conformity

Most of the artwork here has been taken from concept art of either of the examples listed.

Sorted from most futuristic to pre(historic). Yes, the list is long.

Cyberpunk

We start with the OG punk genre, the one after which all other punk genre were named. Yes, you could argue that in fact the two genre following are more futuristic – but Cyberpunk kinda just had to start the list.

As a genre: Given that Cyberpunk had its start completely in literature it is the best defined in this regard. Taking place in a late stage capitalist dystopian world in which most is owned by megacorps who don’t follow anyone’s laws but their own, the protagonists usually are social outcasts fighting against their own oppression, trying to keep themselves alive in a world hostile to them. With cybernetics always being a core of the genre, it also tends to deal with the question of humanity in a “ship of Theseus” sort of way. How much can the human body be altered, before the human vanishes?

As an aesthetic: Cyberpunk is the most punk in terms of aesthetics, really. There is a lot of punk and grunge going on in terms of character design. Neon hair colors, fishnets and thorn up jeans jackets can be found here. As well as of course cybernetics on the characters. The world usually is a megacity with a stark divide between rich and poor, tons of neon signs, a slight Japanese influence, flying cars and somehow a constant downpour of rain.

Punk-Factor: Cyberpunk is the one punk genre, where the “punk” was chosen very knowingly as a name. Usually the protagonists are “punks” fighting for their place in the world against a suppressive capitalist system. (Also, they usually fit the punk aesthetic, if they don’t wear leather dusters.) It should be noted however, that especially in newer western Cyberpunk often the punkiness vanishes more and more – for the same reason we have so little Solarpunk: media that outright confronts the problems of capitalism is just less supported.

Examples: Neuromancer (1984), Mirrorshades: The Cyberpunk Anthology (1986), Snow Crash (1992), The Matrix (1999), Dredd (2012)

Biopunk

As a genre: As a genre biopunk is still fairly ill defined, as it mostly shows up as a subsection of Cyberpunk. Rather than the characters having cybernetic implants (or additionally to it) they are augmented on a genetic level. This can be all sorts of augmentations, changing anything from appearance to giving characters higher strength and agility, giving them claws or night vision, or in some cases even “magic” powers. Usually the genre tends to be set in worlds similar to Cyberpunk. In fact it might well be set in a cyberpunk world, only that characters with bioaugmentations exist parallel to those with cybernetics. Additionally, though, there is a subsection of this genre, that concerns reproductive rights.

As an aesthetic: Ironically biopunk is even less defined as an aesthetic. There is not a lot of biopunk art out there and most that exists can go in different directions. As such it often mixes elements from other punk aesthetics – like Cyberpunk, Steampunk or Dieselpunk – with an assortment of bodyhorror elements.

Punk-Factor: It is hard to define the “punkiness” of a genre, that barely exists for the most part. Usually, when it is set against a Cyberpunk backdrop, it might be very punky, but in other settings those punk elements vanish.

Examples: Ribofunk (1995), Altered Carbon (2002), Bioshock (2007), The Windup Girl (2009)

Nanopunk

As a genre: Like Biopunk Nanopunk mostly exists as a subsubgenre to Cyberpunk, often being set in a mostly Cyberpunk world, only that instead of or additionally to Cybernetics, the technology used to alter the human body is nanites. These serve the same function as the genetic manipulation in Biopunk, giving the human in question more strength and agility and at times more or less magical abilities. There is one common plot that comes up again and again, with an AI or megacorp turning the nanites against the people they inhabit or trying to control them.

As an aesthetic: Aesthetically Nanopunk does not have much in terms of its own identity. Most artworks relating to Nanopunk feature a similar aesthetic to Cyberpunk, with megacities and lots of neon.

Punk-Factor: This genre is so small, that it is kinda hard to judge the exact punkiness.

Examples: The Diamond Age (1995), Prey (2002)

Solarpunk

As a genre: Being another genre, that started as such, Solarpunk is a bit better defined. Solarpunk usually takes place in a world post-strive. It is post-capitalist and decolonial in its settings, usually featuring a world that has either formed against the backdrop of preventing climate collapse or in the aftermath of it. A lot of it features people rebuilding – or alternatively building communities. It always features elements about living in harmony with nature or trying to do so. So far, the genre is mostly defined by short stories, partly because there is still disagreements within the movement, how far a conflict can be taken to still qualify as Solarpunk.

As an aesthetic: Solarpunk has a very strong aesthetic definition, mostly featuring all sorts of cities and urban areas, that incorporate natural elements into the urbanity, with greenery growing on roofs and concrete car-centric streets being replaced with more natural, walkable areas. The character design aesthetic is not quite as clearly defined, but usually features natural materials and patterns usually seen within indigenous art.

Punk-Factor: Contrary to what many say, Solarpunk is fairly punk, as it very much embraces the entire anti-hierarchical, anti-capitalist mentality. With the big difference, that the punk mentality is no longer counter culture, but the mainstream culture.

Examples: The Dispossessed (1974), Nausicaä (1984), Laputa – Castle in the Sky (1986), Princess Mononoke (1997), The Summer Prince (2013)

Lunarpunk

As a genre: Lunarpunk is pretty much a subsubgenre of Solarpunk, just as Nanopunk and Biopunk are sprung off from Cyberpunk. It is so far ill-defined as a genre, but the general consensus is, that it is set in solarpunk-esque worlds, but with a heavier focus on mysticism or spiritualism, at times outright including magic. It also tends to feature a lot darker places, being set in underwater or underground settings – or alternatively at night.

As an aesthetic: Lunarpunk is far more of an aesthetic than a genre so far. It features dark places, often with bioluminescent elements in it. Often featuring a mixture of black and dark blue with lighter blue, violet or light green elements shining in the middle of it. Mushrooms – especially glowing mushrooms – feature repeatedly in artwork.

Punk-Factor: Given that Lunarpunk is barely defined as a genre it is hard to estimate the punkiness in it. If it gets more stories, will those still feature the anti-capitalist and anti-hierarchical messaging we see in Solarpunk? This should be the defining factor. Some of the artworks use little aesthetics from the punk scene, but nothing much more.

Examples: Bioluminescent: A Lunarpunk Anthology (2023)

Hopepunk

Honestly, I had no idea where to put this one, given that it might technically be set at any time and place.

As a genre: Hopepunk is very much a genre, not an aesthetic. It has been defined as the opposite of grimdark by its “inventor/name-giver” Alexandra Rowland. The basic idea is to create fiction that instead of taking a dystopian, defeatist and violent approach, takes one defined by hope and to some degree pacifism. As such the genre can be set in any setting, real or fantastic. It mostly is defined by the protagonists taking opposition to cruelty and violence, fighting for a better world and, crucially, also partly archiving it. Other than in usual Cyberpunk, where the best possible ending, tends to be, that the protagonists get to live a somewhat better life themselves, Hopepunk aims to better the life at least for groups of people.

As an aesthetic: Being fully a genre, Hopepunk has no aesthetic associated with it.

Punk-Factor: Hopepunk is punk less in the sense of the protagonists or things happening within the story, which might or might not be punk, but was named such rather because it is considered counter cultural towards the gross of media at the moment, that often strives for a “realistic, gritty, grimdark” outlook on the world. Basically it is saying: “Hope is punk.” I will not make any judgement on whether or not this is true.

Examples: The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet (2014), Mad Max: Fury Road (2015), The Good Place (2016)

Mythpunk

As a genre: Another one, that does not really fit into a temporal sorting system, because once again it can be set anywhere between the stone age and the far future. The basic idea is, that the story interweaves postmodern storytelling with elements from mythology or folklore. This can mean mythological, genre-traversing retellings, but it can also mean, that mythology seeps into any given story bit by bit. As such the genre with probably the most media in the subgenre is Urban Fantasy, which often borrows from mythology and incorporates these elements.

As an aesthetic: Mythpunk as an aesthetic is a bit strange. There is definitely a mythpunk aesthetic that exists, often mixing familiar elements with elements from mythology and folklore (at times also including quasi-folkloric works of literature, such as Alice in Wonderland and the Wizard of Oz). Often just a bit dark and twisted.

Punk-Factor: To be perfectly frank, for the most part, there is not a lot of punk to be found in this genre. While there have been definitely punky stories told within the genre, this is more a story decision than something inherent to the genre.

Examples: Pan’s Labyrinth (2006), Over the Garden Wall (2014), Inscryption (2016)

Dustpunk / Rustpunk / Desertpunk

As a genre: Kinda grouping those above all together, because people argue about what they might entail and in some interpretations they kinda are similar: Post-apocalyptic stories set in a world of sand and rust. Often featuring a loner character, having to go up against everyone to ensure his own survival – and at times being forced to learn, that the lonerness might not win him (and most often it is a him) anything.

As an aesthetic: Aesthetically this tends to be very much post-apocalyptic, maybe in some cases with some more classical punk elements added to characters and surroundings.

Punk-Factor: Given that there is neither a system to rage against – nor a new, less hierarchical system – usually there is not that much punk outside of some aesthetic choices. Neither tend those stories go into constructing worlds of mutual aid or working against oppression.

Examples: Anything Mad Max should count for this.

Atompunk

As a genre: Atompunk usually deals with themes connected to the cold war – in some cases directly, in some indirectly. Often it overplays the American ideals that were pushed for during the cold war era and portrays scenarios in which American Exceptionalism slowly reveals itself as the dystopia most punks already know it to be. Outside of this vague idea for the setting, the genre is less described, as there is less of a clear script an Atompunk story might follow. So, little description of who might be the protagonist and what their role is.

As an aesthetic: The aesthetic of Atompunk borrows heavily from the Raygun Gothic aesthetic. So, futurism, as it was imagined in the 1950s and 1960s, with heavy influences from late pulp age science fiction art.

Punk-Factor: The aesthetic in this is definitely not punk. The stories often have some vague punk ideas of recognizing how fucked up the world has become, but given the genre is fairly wide in terms of stories, it is hard to give a definite answer to how “punk” it is. One can definitely tell punk stories within this genre, though.

Examples: Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy (1978), Fallout (1997), Futurama (1999)

Dieselpunk

As a genre: Dieselpunk is once again an example of “strong aesthetic, but no clear genre identity”. Generally, Dieselpunk is concerned with the interwar period, but might cover either of the world wars. In some cases the genre features alternate timelines, in which one war happened and not the other, or in which another faction won, with the technological development being influenced by this as well. But as a genre it is not much defined. A lot of stories building on Lovecraft’s legacy feature Dieselpunk in some regards. And there is definitely a subsection of Dieselpunk stories centered around “what if Nazis won” or “what if Nazis somehow went underground and did their own technological development after the war”. Also, there are a lot of stories about pilots of war planes in this genre.

As an aesthetic: As an aesthetic Dieselpunk is more clearly defined. A lot of bare metal and the sorts of technology you would expect from this era, often with retro-futurist and art noveau elements in between. A lot of the fashion within the genre is defined by pilot and military clothing of the times, but at times also dipping into “roaring 20s” fashion styles.

Punk-Factor: In this genre I would generally say: “If the story involves punching Nazis, you might get a couple punk points – but otherwise this is not really punk.”

Examples: The Iron Dream (1972), Brazil (1985), Dark City (1998), Iron Sky (2012), Bitter Seeds (2010)

Teslapunk

As a genre: Yet another one of these, that exists mostly as a vague idea, with no clear definition. The basic idea is a world, that works on Tesla’s inventions. And as those of you, who watched Doctor Who, might know, Tesla sorta, kinda already invented the internet or had an idea of what it could be and how it could work. So a Teslapunk world is based in an alternate timeline, but might in fact go into light futurism. There is not much in this genre though with a unique thematic identity, as stories that use Teslapunk as a backdrop rarely have coherent themes.

As an aesthetic: The aesthetic of Teslapunk is basically “Steampunk, but with Tesla-coils and electricity”. Which is not a big surprise given that Tesla came from the same era that would also be the inspiration for Steampunk. So, we have a lot of Victorian fashion, maybe some light augmentation, airships, and – again – all the tesla coils you can muster.

Punk-Factor: As, again, I think punk is more about themes than aesthetic, this is once more not really possible to judge, because there do not seem coherent themes within the genre so far.

Examples: The Prestige (2006), Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows (2011), Bioshock Infinite (2013)

Arcanepunk

Another one of those that do not neatly fit into the timeline…

As a genre: Arcanepunk takes place in a world, where both magic and technology have developed. In some cases both developed side by side, in others, we might have a technological world, that suddenly discovers magic by some happenstance. The fact is, though, that both exist parallel to each other or might at times be intertwined, with technology being powered by magic. This can exist at different technological stages, usually featuring settings inspired by the late 19th or early 20th century. But usually futuristic stuff that includes magic might be considered Arcanepunk, just as might stories that mix 18th century technology with magic. While also a vague genre, there is a repeating theme of magic being hoarded by those in powers and the poor and downtrodden finding ways to still use it in their own advantage.

As an aesthetic: Given that Arcanepunk’s setting is defined by the co-existence of magic and technology, rather than a specific technology, Arcanepunk has less of a defined aesthetic. Never the less, we have a part of punk aesthetics that often come up, as a surprising amount of Arcanepunk features characters with neon colored hair.

Punk-Factor: Another genre that is rather thin, yet, there is a surprising amount of stories featuring some punk ideas of fighting against an oppressive system and being counter culture to a main culture build around suppression.

Examples: Too Many Magicians (1966), Shadowrun (1989), Bartimaeus (2003), Arcane (2021) duh

Steampunk

Steampunk was the second genre to pick up the “punk” suffix and hence is as much responsible for the punk-punk as Cyberpunk as the originator.

As a genre: Being named as early as it has been, Steampunk kinda suffers the same issue as Cyberpunk itself. There is a lot of ideas there, but some are only vaguely defined. In general, though Steampunk always takes place in a world where the steam engine became the defining technology and was never replaced with the combustion engine. As such cultural aspects from the steam era, especially Victorian England and the Belle Epoche, still carry over for longer, than they did. So often we will see noble households based around similar values as the puritan Victorian English families, while the very poor are made to work in workhouses. At times we might also see themes of colonialism here. In some cases magic might exist in these worlds, as might electricity for some aspects. There is often a heavy inspiration from Jules Verne and H.G. Wells. Though it is still hard to define the “stereotypical steampunk story”, given that Steampunk offers a wide variety of stories, from adventure stories and romances, over to stories where people rise up against the Victorian-esque society.

As an aesthetic: Steampunk as an aesthetic is very much influenced by Victorian aesthetics and the time period of the late 19th century, mostly in the USA, Great Britain and France. But as all other punk genres it knows very well: “If it is worth doing, it is worth overdoing,” so steam-related elements are added to everything. Could

Punk-Factor: In the original idea for Steampunk was a lot of punk. “What if we took Cyberpunks ‘rage against the unjust system’ and made it 19th century” they asked. But given that the genre branched out so much, it is not necessarily there in all the stories. There is a ton of stories where people rage against that steam powered Victorian machine – but also a ton in which the Victorian world gets idealized and romanticized.

Examples: Thief (1998), The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (1999), Wild Wild West (1999), Clockwork Century (2008) – also half of all Sherlock Holmes adaption made after 2000 in any medium usually use Steampunk elements

Silkpunk

As a genre: Silkpunk is hard to define, despite there being a clear definition. The reason for this is, that the person who coined the term – Ken Liu – had a very specific idea in mind. He explains that the idea is of a world that has technology as language. In which form is as important as function, is made to speak a language all of its own. Inspired by ideas from W. Brian Arthur and Chinese philosophy. However, what the wider Science Fiction and Fantasy community made from it was “Steampunk but East Asian!” But given he coined the term (and also the alternative feels vaguely racist) I am going to go with Ken Liu for this. While Silkpunk will usually be set in an East Asian inspired world, the central idea is about the duality of technology, which will also be addressed within the stories.

As an aesthetic: As said above, the idea Liu had for it was a world that features some technology, but technology that is as much about form and communication through it, as it is about function. So the technology here has strong visual ideas. At least that was, how Liu intended it. Once again, the wider community made “Steampunk, but East Asian” out of it.

Punk-Factor: There is not a lot of stuff in this genre for now – however so far I do not manage to see a lot of punk ideas in it, even though some of Liu’s stories definitely feature the concept of challenging a higher power.

Examples: Dandelion Dynasty (2015), The Black Tides of Heaven (2018), The Tea Master and the Detective (2019)

Clockpunk

As a genre: Once again storytelling in this genre is not really defined, but the worlds diverge a bit before the wide adaption of steam, instead featuring mechanical devices powered by coils and springs and somehow kept alive, often at least implied through some form of arcane magic that gives “live” to these mechanical inventions. Most examples of Clockpunk, however, tend to show up as settings for parts of fantasy stories. Any fantasy world might have this “Clockpunk” area, where protagonists might travel. Especially games tend to feature this. While there is definitely a trope of the “mad inventor” often going along with this, few other tropes stand out.

As an aesthetic: The aesthetic of Clockpunk tends to take some inspiration from the early 19th century, but tends to add a lot of gears to everything, with even city wide gear constructions keeping things working. We often will find mechatronic characters, such as wind up soldiers or wind up dancers.

Punk-Factor: Once more, there are so few stories told, that it is kinda hard to speak about how punk this is. Most stories told so far, however, do not feature punk elements.

Examples: The Great Mouse Detective (1986), Hugo (2011), Clockwork Planet (2017)

Whalepunk

Please note: This is one of those genre, I would love to see more in, though so far it is barely explored.

As a genre: And you might ask: “Why do you even name those genre, that exist mostly in theory?”, to which I might answer: “Because I am a nerd.” As all these retrofuturists genre, Whalepunk imagines mostly an alternate historical timeline, where the technology that became defining was based around whale oil. This means that in Whalepunk often whalers or harbors play a big role, though as the genre is again very thinly spread, it is hard to say what “THE whalepunk” formular is. It seems there is a tendency, to mix some mysticism or magic into the genre, though, as the idea of hunting sea monsters often plays into it as well. Good chance that it could at some point merge with Cthulupunk (which I did not name separately, because most of it is either covered in Whalepunk or Dieselpunk).

As an aesthetic: The aesthetic of Whalepunk is basically “Steampunk, but with more sailors, ships and sea monsters”. There is definitely a bit of Oceanpunk mixed into it as well, with some aesthetics being somewhere between Steampunk and Dieselpunk. (Which is kinda ironic, because whale oil was mostly used in the early 19th century.)

Punk-Factor: And again. There so far is not a lot of connective thematic tissue within that genre, so exploring themes is kinda hard.

Examples: Dishonored (2012), Dredge (2023)

Oceanpunk / Piratepunk

As a genre: It really is hard to divide the Piratepunk out of the Oceanpunk, though some might call it different. The idea here is that this genre features stories mostly set on the ocean and often more heavily leaning into fantasy, than science fiction. While the worlds might feature technological elements, they will almost certainly feature magical elements of some sort. The characters will usually be seafaring one way or another and stories might involve any sort of adventure. There might be a storyline, though, about one company or nation trying to control the seas – often times through magical means – with the characters often unwillingly being made to oppose them. This genre might also take place in a post-apocalyptic setting with a flooded planet.

As an aesthetic: While the aesthetic is not clearly defined, there is a good chance that it borrows heavily from the late 17th and early 18th century and the golden age of piracy, when it comes to both ships and fashion sensibilities.

Punk-Factor: Pirates, at least as far as modern media imagines them, tend to be very punk, as they tend to inherently oppose any sort of government and what not. While the punk is not there in all of the stories, a lot of the most popular stories from the genre will feature at least lightly punky elements.

Examples: One Piece (1997), Pirates of the Caribbean (2003), Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag (2013)

Dungeonpunk

As a genre: So, the idea of the genre is basically “What if Cyberpunk, but Dungeons & Dragons?” Usually set in a vaguely medieval world, this world still shows the same corporate corruption as your usual Cyberpunk world. Adventurers are just another resource to be exploited by the system, their day job involving going on yet another dungeon crawl. For this there might be some technology entirely powered by magic, with those magic items taking over the same functions technology might have in a Cyberpunk world. And yes, indeed some brave dwarf, elf or halfling might rise up and challenge the corporate dungeon syndicate. (As you might sense: Yes, this genre tends to be at least partly a bit of a parody of the punkpunk idea. Though it also can be played straight as “Cyberpunk conflicts, just that all technology is somehow magic.”)

As an aesthetic: This is once again one of the examples, where there is a clear idea behind it – but absolutely no clear aesthetic, as this genre might cover anything from medieval settings to a lot more modern stuff.

Punk-Factor: The base idea, being heavily inspired by the base idea of Cyberpunk, just from a very different perspective. But too many people read the genre as “Magic Technology, yay”, in which case, no, it is not punk.

Examples: Dungeons & Dragons can be played this way, also Final Fantasy VI – XIII definitely counts.

Sandalpunk

As a genre: I mostly include this for the sake of it, because this genre tends to boil down to “fantasy set in ancient Greece or Rome, but with vaguely anachronistic elements”. It might also include alternate history stories (even going so far as Science Fiction) based on the idea “What if Ancient Rome/Ancient Greece never fell?” There is no real overarching themes, even though I could imagine some interesting way one could build those up. So far, though, it is mostly a vague gesture towards: “SciFi Fantasy, but with more ancient civilizations.”

As an aesthetic: The aesthetic is usually just Ancient Rome or Ancient Greece, but with more magic or anachronistic elements.

Punk-Factor: Given the super vague nature of the genre and the fact that it seems more like a genre of hindsight (with most media being declared this having been released even before 2000)… Nobody wrote those stories to be punk. The one punk thing I can see about several of these stories is people challenging Gods, but… That’s about it.Examples: Hercules: Legendary Journeys (1995), Xena: Warrior Princess (1995), God of War (2005)

Stonepunk

As a genre: The basic idea of Stonepunk is, that it is set in a stone age world, but with the technology being pressed towards a very anachronistic end, which is often played for laughs. Basically it gives stone age people a modern seeming world, though not really. Often enough this is used to make a point about the modern world and parody it in some regard. An argument can be made for stories, that feature stone age technology people being somehow subjected to modern technology (for example through time travel or space travel) also possibly falling into this genre.

As an aesthetic: Usually the aesthetic of Stonepunk is one of an overplayed stone age setting. The clothing characters might wear are not what we know is historically more accurate but really just “everyone wears a pelt around their shoulders”. Meanwhile stone age tools get spun to be used as all sorts of modern technologies.

Punk-Factor: The genre does usually not feature punk themes. However, the nature of parodying and challenging the modern world tends to be punk in its own merit, I assume?

Examples: The Flintstones (1960), The Croods (2013), Horizon: Zero Dawn (2017)

That's it. That's the list.

Feel free to add to it.

[ckret2]

How do you (personally) rank the validity of different canon sources?

Ex. Show, Books, Livestreams, Panels, Deleted Scenes ect.

Disclaimer ahead of time that this is solely for my own personal canon-compliant fic writing purposes and I don't expect anyone else to follow this or even think they're obligated to write canon compliantly

Tier one: the show is more canon than the books, but only 1% more canon. In defiance of Alex's decree, I do treat Little Gift Shop of Horrors as canon.

Tier two: everything in the books (plus the books' tie-in websites, like Shmeb-You-Unlocked or TINAWDC) is canon UNLESS it's contradicted in the show. If there's a contradiction, usually the show wins, but it has to be decided on a case-by-case basis. Sometimes contradicting book info take precedence over show info if the book's info is better. The best outcome is when the info can be smoothly synthesized. (Note that having to weigh a book against the show only applies to CONTRADICTIONS; if the book just ADDS ONTO our knowledge of the show in a way that doesn't actually contradict it, it's automatically canon.)

Also in defiance of Alex, I consider Time Pirates' Treasure wholly canon, with the "official" timeline being one of the ones where they get the treasure and all of the other choose-your-own-adventure branches being things that happened in neighboring parallel timelines.

Out of the books, Journal 3, TBOB (+TINAWDC), and Lost Legends (+Shmeb-You-Unlocked) are the most canon. TBOB takes precedence over Journal 3 on matters where TBOB's lore is clearly intended as an upgrade on prior ideas (ex: the shaman's portal and the pyramids). Dipper & Mabel's Guide, Time Pirates' Treasure (+ the Axolotl page), and Don't Color This Book are secondarily canon. Lazy screenshot-based novelizations of existing episodes are whatever.

I choose to selectively semi-reject some of the skeevier conspiracy theory claims in the books as "Bill's lying about these": outside of those exceptions, going "there's no evidence Bill's lying about this part but I've decided that he is just because I don't like it" is the coward's way and dishonorable.

Info in the Bill Cipher AMA is third tier canon, since it was written in-character and comes directly from Alex. (Some quotes from the AMA were recycled directly into TBOB + TINAWDC.) Gus Burnside's twitter account is also third tier.

For the first three tiers, all info is canon unless something in a higher tier contradicts it.

The Cipher Hunt is 3.5th tier.

All out-of-universe materials—livestreams, panels, interviews, DVD commentary, tweets, doodles & concept art, etc—are fourth tier. If it's contradicted by anything in the higher tiers, they take precedence; but, for lack of a conflict, out-of-universe materials fill in the gaps. But the person involved matters: show writers' statements on the characters are more canon than voice actors' statements. If fourth-tier materials contradict each other, the newer one takes precedence. Fourth-tier materials can be selectively ignored if so desired, but better to find a way to twist them to make them work.

The Gnome Gemulets game is fifth tier; all the lore from it is canon, but the events may or may not have actually happened, or else only loosely happened like that. Gnome Gemulets may occasionally rank higher than the out-of-universe materials.

Disney.com flash games and the like are semi-canon; you CAN take lore and details from them if you want but the events probably didn't literally happen unless you really want to make it work. Okay to imagine that events happened that were loosely inspired by the games.

Deleted scenes and cameos (ex: Bill in the Simpsons) are semi-semi canon. They probably didn't happen, especially if it contradicts canon; but you can freely take ideas and vibes from them and use them as examples of the kinds of things that could happen (ex: Bill would try to con people into buying crypto just for the heck of it).

Unwritten episodes are semi-semi-semi canon: they definitely didn't happen, but by god, you could MAKE them happen.

The How Not To Draw Grunkle Stan short is as yet unknown. Under normal conditions it ought to be semi-semi canon, but since TINAWDC did some stuff with the Henchmaniacs escaping to reality shortly before this clip came out about Bill escaping to reality, there's a slim possibility this is part of a budding storyline about Bill & the gang in the real world, so I'm reserving judgment for now.

[justcallmeremus]

The current Ford hate on TT is insane to me.

“He didn’t care about Stan!”

I’m sorry what? This is the same Ford that, in the ripped out pages from the journal in Book Of Bill, stated “Stanley could have made her laugh” when he was referring to the waitress and him having a poor interaction. Meaning he had fond thoughts of his brother even during a time when he wasn’t talking to him.

Another direct quote is referring to the telephone booth scene

“‘HEY BROTHER, IT’S SIXER. I’M GOING TO TAKE A SWIM IN THE FROZEN LAKE TOMORROW, AND I MIGHT NOT COME BACK, SO IF YOU DON’T HEAR FROM ME, I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT IT’S BECAUSE I NEVER LOVED YOU. BUH-BYEEEEE’

My heart was in my throat until I heard the dial tone…”

Ford was in a state of anxiety from the idea of the last thing Stan potentially ever hearing from him was that he [Ford] never loved him [Stan]. That shows he cares for his brother I do not care what you say. Even in a spat such as theirs Ford showed in small ways that he did care for Stan.

“Oh but during the portal scene(s) he was mean to Stan!!!”

“If Stan was sucked into the portal we know Ford wouldn’t have helped”

In the first scene where Stan and Ford are at the portal arguing Ford is in an extreme state of paranoia due to the lack of sleep and stress Bill has put on his body.

The second one Ford has just returned from what we can only imagine as a traumatic experience, fighting for his life in another dimension, oh right yes the dimension that very portal leads to and that Ford was trying to make sure couldn’t link the two worlds.

If they had swapped places and Ford didn’t know the extent of what was on the other side, because remember Fiddleford was the only one who had seen the other side before this moment, I bet Ford would’ve done anything to get Stan back, and then when Stan returned, if he knew that the portal linked the two dimensions at this point, Stan would probably be upset too! Wondering why his smart brother would risk total destruction on this town just to get him back!

“He didn’t thank Stan for everything he did to get Ford back!!!”

Yes, of course he should be grateful that his brother brought him home but also if Stan managed to get the portal running then Ford knows that Stan read his journals and also knows those dangers and once again he’s disregarded the consequences of his actions in Ford’s eyes.

“Erm why didn’t he use his grant money to help the fam…kinda selfish!!!”

Do you not know how grant money works? You can’t just use it for whatever you want! You have to use it in relation to your studies! He built himself a lab with his grant money to do research, like he’s supposed to. If he hadn’t used it as intended guess what! He’d have to pay it back!!! Out of pocket!

“Making Dipper his apprentice was kinda weird like what about school…”

There’s schools in Gravity Falls??? Like did you forget there were other people his age going to school in the area?? Also, Dipper expressed interest in the things Ford spent his life studying.

Dipper read the journal like it was his whole world and Ford basically had found someone to relay and teach all the things he learned to, which would allow Dipper to learn far more than he could anywhere else, especially if this is a field of study Dipper would like to pursue!!

I’d like to add that Stan also never apologized for ruining Ford’s project, even if it was an accident generally you apologize for things you do accidentally if it impacted someone you love so greatly. Instead he said how they could just travel instead of Ford going off to school, completely disregarding how that made his brother feel.

If there was an apology. If there was an explanation. Ford most likely would have forgiven Stan much sooner.

“I just don’t like Ford”

And that’s fine! You’re allowed to not like a character! No one is forcing you to like him, but when you’re saying you don’t like him and these are your defenses? Your argument and reasonings fall flat.

I love both Stan and Ford deeply and do not view one as better over the other, but the way the fandom holds Ford way more accountable than Stan is insane to me. The way Stan can repeatedly put people in danger and/or do things without thinking about the consequences is a valid thing to critique just like any of Ford’s actions.

Oookay long rant over.

TLDR; Stop blaming Ford for everything, picking and choosing what parts of canon about him you use for arguments, hold Stan more accountable.

[adobolover123]

bakusquad when they’re on instagram (headcannons!)

——————————————————————

bakugo’s instagram:

-doesn’t post a lot on instagram, but when he does OHMYGODDDJ

-he would post mirror selfies of him flexing with songs attatched. (maybe it’s just the camera angle but his arms r HUGE ASFFF—)

-does he post bakusquad? tbh rarely. bc of his big ahh ego. but since he’s getting better and warming up to them he’ll repost his friend’s posts if he’s tagged in them (hangouts, workout posts)

-he only posts stories

-his username is probably something corny as hell, like: 

king.explosionmurder , kb_explosionmurder , imbetterthanyou, LMAOO

or something else like that 😭

-omg. and if ur lucky enough to get on his close friends story, (from time to time,) he’ll post himself lip syncing to audios. DONT EVEN GET ME STARYEDDD

-he knows he’s attractive. like literally post more please.

-only thing on his acc is one highlight of himself.

-his pfp? mirror selfie covering his face 🤷‍♀️

kirishima’s instagram:

-omg y’all this cutie and his instagram.

-most-if not ALL of his stories are selfies with his friends, and he most DEFINITELY has a weekly dump of them.

-his selfies with them r mostly him and his friends working out, but he’ll post even the little selfies like them at lunch. 

-he WILL go on a story spam when the baku squad hangs out. 

-he’ll post his workout progress on his story fs 

-let’s be real he’ll post those motivational quotes

-his username would be his hero name or his regular name with his bday numbers 🤷‍♀️ (redriot1016, e.kirishima1016, )

-his main posts are kinda a pattern; himself, then his friends, then himself again.

-when he posts on main posts of his friends he would attach funny ass videos of them, and dumb challenges the bakusquad would do with each other

-his two main highlights r himself and his friends ofc, but he would have a highlight for each hangout to make it extra special ☹️

kaminari’s instagram:

-out of the whole bakusquad, denki and mina are the most active.

-i think we all know how he would be like fr 

-he is definitely that person who reposts EVERYTHING HE SEES ON HIS FEED; REELS, POSTS, MEMES,

— he spams his stories ( he made a gc on insta with the rest of the squad that are MAINLY him spamming them with reels; bakugo kept leaving it but kaminari keeps inviting him back in)

-but waitwaitwait; be careful skipping through his stories bc he WILL post some FINE ass selfies of himself for the hoes

-he also won’t hesitate to post himself lip syncing to songs on his public story

-like kirishima, he posts his friends a lot!

-he’ll post on his story with those add-ons that have to do with friends and he’ll make a mini collage of his squad :)))

-his username?… it’s probably one of those “theyluv___” “theyfw___” type shi 😭

-kaminari. has. a. lot. of. main posts.

-but they come out hella good; he prolly searches up “instagram post ideas” on pinterest

-his pinned post was when he had a whole photoshoot in a parking lot garage which funny story:

(the bakusquad decided to hang out at the mall, and they arrived at the parking lot garage. mina brought up how it was a good place to take pictures here and denki RAN with that. next thing yk;

bakugo was pissed asf waiting for them sitting down on the ground,

jirou was being denki’s photo critic,

sero was helping kirishima get the angles right,

and mina was showing denki what poses he should do. they were there for an hour. )

-he complains how his acc isn’t getting seen but he forgot that he put his acc on private

ashido’s instagram:

-second most active on instagram

-SHE HAS THAT HOT GIRL ACC FR

-she posts a lot, but her three pinned posts are: selfies of herself, a photoshoot of herself, and one of those cool hot photoshoots with the squad

-her highlights are: “💋” (herself) , “🔛🔝” (bakusquad)”, “my loves” (class 1A girls)

-her username is probably “iheart___” or something simple like “minaa_a”

-she posts herself a lot on her story AND EATS IT UP EVERYTIMEEE

-and she posts her friends on her story as equally as she posts herself ♡

-she posts a LOT on her close friends, she posts memes but mainly funny videos and pictures of the squad. including funny gc screenshots

-when her friends post she’ll repost them like 3 times, and spam/hype them up in the comments 🤗

jirou’s instagram:

-this girl got the whole themed instagram acc quickly.

-she only uses instagram to be up to date with music artists so she doesn’t care abt posting

-her username would probably just be her name or something like: “j_kyoka”

-but she does have one main post, and it’s a guitar she got for her birthday 🤗

-she posts reels of her doing all sorts of song covers with different instruments LIKE AHHHH

-her covers get a lot of attention, denki asks her how he could get attention on his acc

-since her acc got a lot of public attention (she’s thinking abt making another one just for song covers) everyone in class 1A is on her close friends so she could post stuff she’d like to keep a little private; like her friends, hangouts

-on her public story she would repost concert tour dates, music artists posts, stuff like that.

-she would post screenshots of songs she’s listening to on her public story

-sadly she doesn’t post herself—unless it’s a selfie of her getting a new instrument or something lol

-there was this one time she posted a cute selfie of herself in her cfs on accident, and denki and mina hyped her up sm fr ☹️

mina:

“YESSS”

“POST MORE 🗣️🗣️”

denki:

“OHMYOGF”

“U POSTED”

“OKAY JIRO I SEE YOUU”

jirou:

“sthu”

-she has a public highlight for covers, and her cf highlights are her friends !

-she doesn’t ask to take that much pictures with them, she usually reposts her friends stories when she’s tagged in them

-but she loves recording denki being stupid lol, she also has a cf highlight of that

sero’s instagram:

-almost like a bakusquad fan acc

-he’s like in the middle of jirou and denki when it comes to posting on his story

-he’ll repost memes, but not as much

-he posts sky pictures just bc 🤗 he has a highlight for them

-he doesn’t post himself ☹️😒 unless it’s a selfie with the squad

-in fact, he has a lot of main posts of JUST him and the bakusquad; he’s also the cameraman

-but he mainly takes pictures and videos a lot with denki, their pictures are funny ASF

-instead of just one highlight of the whole squad, he has a silly highlight for each of them!!

-funny videos, funny pictures, funny screenshots of things they said, you name it

-he also has a highlight for tiktoks the squad do together it’s so funny and cute

-his feed is everywhere tbh; a mix of memes and the squad

-his username is probably a meme quote or something like “notserohanta” 💀

———————————————————————

notes: (i wrote this at like 12am srry if it’s sloppy) those are my head cannons! i rlly don’t know wht to write for a fic anymore lol. i hope you enjoyed though!!

have a good day loves ♡

[hmshermitcraft]

So. Flowers.

Everyone gets them. They grow in their hair and sprout from cracks in the sidewalk when they step, changing in association with their emotions in any given moment. Lessons on flower language are in the curriculum at schools, to help people differentiate their emotions and promote communication among others.

Impulse gets flowers when he's around Skizz. They're daffodils and they're pink roses and they're blue roses.

Skizz gets flowers when he's around Impulse. But they're not those types of flowers; they're daisies, yellow and blue, and they're alstroemerias and sunflowers. Not the flowers associated with "romance" in any way.

The two of them grew up in a little town not too big on flower language; they never knew what the flowers they grew around each other meant. And they didn't particularly care.

...That is, until they moved to a big city for college, and made friends with the kind of people who did grow up around flower language, who do know the meanings behind the flowers the two grow for each other.

No one ever says anything to them until, in their second year of college, and the second year of the two being roommates, Skizz starts getting little daffodils in the mix.

---

(Just to make this a bit easier for everyone: the meanings I'm sourcing from this are daffodils (in impulse's case) for unrequited love, blue roses also for unrequited love, and pink roses for quote "admiration, happiness, and love". for skizz, we've got yellow daisies for joy, optimism, and friendship, blue daisies for long-term loyalty and trust, alstroemerias for friendship and strength, sunflowers for loyalty and happiness, and daffodils for new love/new beginnings. i wanted to go a bit further/add more flowers for both of them but im tired)

In their small town, everybody had their own story about what flowers must mean. The phenomenon had only recently began proper research, with brain scans now possible. Even then, it's still difficult. So, not much news spread to their little home.

And then their friends in the city kinda assumed they already knew. After all, Impulse is pretty obviously a cry for help.

So imagine their surprise when Skizz starts growing daffodils too and instead of rejoicing about reciprocated love, they're just excited they match now.

Yeah. It's probably time to stage an intervention.

[petermorwood]

Microwave Sponge Cake (eventually)

Long ago, @dduane and I had a Whirlpool combi microwave - micro, grill, fan oven - and It Was Great, big enough to use as a proper oven when what needed cooked in a proper oven was small enough that powering up the big proper oven in the cooker was a bit much.

Still with me...?

IIRC it was one of those Christmas presents where Mum, ever-practical, told us; "get yourselves something really useful but not too expensive (I did say practical!) and I'll go halves."

In 2016, after something like 15 years of pretty-well daily use for one thing and another, the old thing expired by stages, micro first, grill second, oven last - it made great bread up until the end - and went to recycling heaven.

*****

We couldn't find a one-for-one replacement (we needed a free-standing counter-top appliance, everyone was selling built-in), so until once was available (optimism) we bought an ordinary microwave.

NB, this and its successors were only used for ordinary microwave things like reheating, defrosting and dealing with freeze-cook stuff. They got nothing like the amount of use of the old combi, mostly because of being incapable of doing a lot of it. As things turned out, this didn't help much.

About eighteen months later, we had to buy another. If a microwave's enamel interior develops a crack (to this day I don't know how), moisture gets in, rust begins and the enamel pulls off the bare metal. That's when you get "sparking".

This demo is deliberate; believe me, when it's unexpected it's even worse.

A private welder show or lightning storm at the end of the kitchen counter when all you want is a hot cuppa is distinctly unsettling. Also, it's only going to get worse, and we could imagine - boy, could we - what "Much Worse" might look like.

To the recycle dump!

(NB, micros with stainless steel interiors don't seem to do this, probably because they're already tuned to deal with the bare metal.)

The replacement, another ordinary micro, Just Up And Died after eighteen months and, guess what, the quote for a check-up and replacements-if-required was as much as the price of a new one.

(Inkjet printers seem to operate on this principal too.)

To the recycle dump again!

We got a third new one (which BTW is still running just fine, because it's been downgraded to Extra, read on), totalled up what we'd spent on ordinary microwaves, said a few well-chosen words about planned obsolescence and the "Vimes 'Boots' Theory of Economic Inequality" and got ourselves a pre-pay credit card whose top-ups were dedicated to Get A Combi Again.

We didn't bother with GACA baseball caps.

That would have been silly.

I don't know if these cards exist in the USA; we treat them as the modern version of a piggy-bank...

...except that to get at the money you need two people acting in accord.

*****

And in 2021 we got one.

Okay, this next bit is going to read like an ad.

It isn't, because the appliance is discontinued. (Whirlpool FINALLY do something similar but not identical.) It's just enthusiastic users discovering there's even more to a gadget than expected.

*****

The New One even bigger than the old one, which had 28 litres capacity; the new one was 33 L (was .99 ft³, is now 1.16 ft³). In non-tech terms, wow, More Room To Cook In.

Reading the figures was no help (to me, anyway) in visualising what a maw the thing had, but opening the door did that and no mistake.

I said something to DD about "bite radius"...

...and she instantly responded with "anyway, we delivered the bomb".

We're a quotesy household. ;->

BTW, The New One does a very good job on seafood, too...

*****

Since we got this, almost exactly two years ago, we've used it from reheating tea to roasting meat to making chilli / goulash / stew / curry (you can run the oven / grill separately or add simultaneous zaps of microwave for much less cooking time) to baking bread.

One of the best things about it is that when the set cooking time is done, the appliance switches off automatically. No risk of busyness, absent-mindedness or out-in-the-garden-ness ending in clouds of smoke, ruined food and possibly even worse.

As for breadmaking, it has a dough-rise setting which is a Time Machine, reducing a two-hour "doubled in size" rise time to about 35-45 minutes...

It also has the most reliable Defrost Butter setting either of us have ever encountered, turning a rock-solid butter brick from the freezer into something spreadable while never - to date - doing the "never mind a butter-knife, give me a spoon or a paintbrush" thing.

*****

However...

There's also a "Chef Setting" where there are some simple recipes. Here's the pastry page.

Basically, you assemble and mix the ingredients, input the correct settings and the machine does all the timing, heating and cooking.

We'd never used this until yesterday, when DD said, "Let's try the sponge cake..."

Yes, this post was entitled "Microwave Sponge Cake (eventually)..." and here we are...

We did all the measuring correctly and checked it by pouring the mixture into a baking container while on the scale, wondering betimes why the recipe says 900g, the ingredients total 925 and what actually poured into the container reads 906... Weird. Really weird.

Then we put the container into the oven, entered the correct code, and let things do what they were going to do.

A little later we discovered something else about the recipe besides a weight anomaly.

It didn't mention the required size of the container. Or or how much the mixture was likely to rise.

It rose...

Let's say more than we expected...

The fluted ceramic container used for baking this one makes it look like a Vesuvius cupcake; not quite a pyroclastic flow, but a lot of flow regardless.

Once it cooled we separated the sponge-cake from the escaped sponge in the same way as sculptors work with wood or marble - "Chip away everything that doesn't look like a cake" - and found that despite its misshapen looks, it tasted pretty good.

So today DD made another, this time using a larger container.

...and this time it stayed put until removed using the cunning base-and-lifting-straps of baking parchment.

It's not the loftiest or best-risen sponge cake either of us have ever seen (a smaller-diameter higher-sided container would probably deal with that) BUT if there's something needing sponge cake in a hurry - this went from cupboard ingredients to done and cooling in less than 55 minutes - that treatment seems to fit the bill.

We're now wondering what other secrets lurk in the simple recipe pages; falafel, quiche Lorraine, stuffed peppers, even Flammkuchen* from scratch.

(*Though I have my own views about Flammkuchen, mostly involving a plane flight...)

And we'll be paying a lot more attention to what size of dish we put them in. :->

[nobody-viii]

The Turks - Context Clues (The Kids Are Alright)

@accala posted an excellent inquisitive post about the Turks here and their motivations and to add some The Kids Are Alright: A Turks Side Story book context, imma leave this here. Couldn't find the quote I was looking for, but here's some things I found interesting. NOTE: I feel like Advent Children did the Turks a little dirty, but I really loved the banter as a kid. This book has some of the same campy shortcomings, but take it or leave it, here's what I found.

1.) The Healen Lodge from Advent Children was an R&R facility for Shinra, universally accepted as the worst one by employees. The Turks/Rufus chose it for its tactical advantages, but it also shows how far back on their heels they were. "The Shinra empire had ruled most of the world up until two short years ago, and it didn't sit right with Elena that the company president had to live in such a desolate place. Yes, medical treatment was available, security was way better away from the city, and the commute was only two hours by car; the staff could have had it much worse." - pg. 14

2.) The abandoned rec hall was being used by Shinra as a lab to convert SOLDIER stimulants into geostigma treatments. The project was Elena's idea, with the resulting medication being donated free of charge to city medical professionals and the WRO. (pp. 16-17)

3.) Reno & Rude were sent into the city to retrieve a stolen item from a teenager (read the book for details I'm too lazy to go into it), and when he started crying and shaking, Reno and Rude switched to a new script. "Aw, look. The kid's really scared." The redhead sounded sympathetic now. "That's what we came to do," the bald one pointed out. And: "Now, we put on our best tough-guys acts on the way over, so we can't just leave without roughing anyone up," said the redhead. "Our job is to teach a lesson to anyone who tries to mess with us." I was still scrambling for an explanation to give them. "Y-you mean, kill me?" was what came out instead. My voice even cracked for good measure. "That's one way to teach a lesson. But we're trying to strike a balance for Shinra, here. We want everyone to love us and maybe be a little bit scared. Killing you would have the opposite effect." (pg. 23) Reno opted to punch the kid in the face, then tell him to keep his chin up, so...balance? Sure. Shinra is, at this point, technically trying to figure out their PR while simultaneously leaning on old habits. Also, the kid calls Reno and Rude a knife and a fork and I thought that was funny.

4.) Reno is described as someone who looked like he 'turned delinquent as a teenager and never grew out of it, like those kids in the Sector Eight warehouses who I still hated and admired in equal measure.' (pg. 23)

5.) Elena roughs up one of the protagonists, but reins herself in when context is presented: She'd paid a visit intending to break Fabio's dominant arm, but when she saw him fight back to protect the child, she changed her plan. Her objective was to punish a thief, not deprive a child with geostigma of his only guardian. (pg. 47)

6.) Reno calls a doctor for the guy he roughed up. Kyrie nodded. "I figured, these guys must have phones, so I asked them to call Dr. Drake. 'Evan's in a bad way 'cause you guys beat him up,' I told them. And guess what? They said they don't know any Evan. So I lost it and said, 'Yeah, 'cause Evan's the one you whaled on when you mixed him up with Fabio. You owe him..... So then the redhead--his name's Reno--he called a doctor. Not Dr. Drake, he said, but a good one..." (pg. 55)

7.) Evan (the protagonist) is trying to work out who would be the easiest Turk to try to forge an alliance with and we get a glimpse of how the Turks are perceived by outsiders (Tseng is an unknown entity to Evan at this time): The most dangerous one was probably the lady Turk who went after Fabio. A close second would be the slab of muscle out there, Rude. Maybe the redhead Reno was more on our level. I thought back to my first impression of him--the grown-up teenage delinquent. Guys like that generally looked out for their own. A sense of solidarity. There had to be an angle I could work. (pg. 57)

8.) There's a whole scene where Evan and Kyrie try to ambush Rude. They choke him, break a chair over him, kick, scratch, the whole shebang and he just brushes himself off and manhandles them to a car (which made me laugh).

9.) Reno and Rude take the protagonists towards Healen in a truck and there's a few moments I found interesting. "So anyway..." Reno was looking at me in the rearview mirror. "Sorry about the shiner, dude. We totally did think you were Fabio. But y'know, I'm impressed you stayed mum and protected your buddy," Reno went on. "Even if you were about to piss your pants." (lol) Then, "Some of us have been slower to to adapt to the new way of doing things," Reno continued. "How many Turks are left?" asked Kyrie. "Can't tell you. That's Shinra's most closely guarded secret." "It's just you three, isn't it?" "Not telling." "But I'm right." "Yeah, you keep thinking that." (pg.63) Rude sleeps through the majority of the ride despite Reno trying to keep him awake. They talk quite a bit about Aerith, because Kyrie and Reno both knew her. Reno warns them not to get mixed up with Shinra's science department.

10.) Evan gets introduced to Rufus for the first time after believing the former president has been dead for two years and Tseng finally exists in this book for two seconds. "He's alive...?" Evan was still speaking to Reno. "I am. The decoy who took my place is not," Rufus replied. "You're a candidate for the position--and from what I can see, you'll do." Evan's jaw dropped, and he stared agape at Reno, then Rufus, then Tseng. Tseng looked down at the ground, trying to hide his laughter. Evan's description of Tseng: He looked like a Turk, too. The very definition of one, in fact. Reno and Rude both showed an awkward humanity--well, sporadically in the latter's case--but this guy was pure ice.

11.) An ill-conceived escape attempt by Evan and crew sees Rufus temporarily kidnapped, as Tseng and Elena are investigating an explosion. Reno and Rude try to stop it, but are ordered back. "Reno, stay back!" Reno obediently halted. I had expected to see fury in his eyes, but all I say was sorrow. Surprisingly, I felt a pang in my chest, too. But there was no other way. I pulled Kyrie's knife from my pocket and opened it--a sad, flimsy little blade, but it could still slice open a throat. "Hey, don't be stupid." I ignored Reno and held the knife to Rufus Shinra's neck. Then, "Reno, take Rude and check on the lab." Suddenly Rufus was giving orders. "Tell Tseng not to get involved here." "Wait, what? Boss, are you sure?!" "Don't worry. I'm as interested in staying alive as you are." Reno reluctantly descended the stairs, glancing over his shoulder almost every step. (pg. 77)

12.) Reno and Rude talk about family and have a lil tiff. "If I found out about a brother I'd never seen, I'd make way more of an effort than those two," Reno insisted. "That right?" Rude said. My colleagues are all I need. "You're not much into family, eh, Rude?" "I'm a Turk," Rude said flatly. "Coolheaded and cold-blooded." He turned and headed for the truck. "Hey, Rude. You pissed at me?" Reno called, an unabashed whine. "C'mon, man. You can't cold-zone me now. Tseng and Elena aren't answering my calls, and the boss just tells me to finish the monument. I know they're starting something awesome without us. We're outcasts! Me and you, you and me. If we don't stick together, then what?" Rude looked back. "Tseng isn't answering calls?" (pg. 94) Reno goes off several times throughout this book about how he'd act if he got the chance to meet family, which makes me wonder about him. "So how'd it feel, meeting your brother?" "I don't think it's sunk in yet." "Well, it's a process, I guess," said Reno. "But you gotta visit once in a while, you know? Then you'll get to figure each other out. Break the ice." (pg. 97)

13.) Reno and Rude are actually partially responsible for the monument in the city. This lil bit kinda gives weight to how long they've been in Shinra. Evan was one of those types who wasn't quite grounded in reality but was full of bravado. A show-off. A scared kid determined to buck people's expectations by pretending he had no fear. And if he kept it up, he was gonna do something stupid enough to get himself killed. Both Reno and Rude had known too many kids like that, from rookie Turks to infantrymen to SOLDIER operatives wet behind the ears from mako infusion tanks.

14.) Reno & Rude get amused by Kyrie treating them like they're not scary. The concern over redemption makes an appearance. "Now what?" Rude stepped closer from his vantage point. Apparently, he'd been watching the whole time. He was pretending he didn't care, but inwardly, Reno was convinced, Rude was intrigued by every act of the farce. Which only made the whole thing funnier. "She said she's hungry," said Reno. "So she's gonna grab something to eat." "It's like she's never heard of the Turks. It's almost refreshing," Rude remarked. So this is what happens when Shinra wins hearts and minds. Reno chuckled again but then remembered that the girl was still afraid of them. He'd seen the goosebumps on her arms. Her toothless threats were her way of gauging the danger he and Rude presented. Evan might trust them, but not Kyrie. Despite what Rude said, she knew what they were and what they were capable of. "You know," said Rude. "She reminds me of Aerith." "Yeah, I was thinkin' that too." Maybe helping them out will redeem us, at least a little bit, he thought. A guy can hope. (pg. 106)

15.) Shinra's resources are thin...and that chopper that ate it in AC was one of the last ones left (cue gross sobbing because in the words of a certain Puppy, Shinra makes good stuff). No one knew exactly how many helicopters the Shinra Company used to have. Within a half a year of Meteorfall, many of them had been looted. Accidents, mechanicals, and other circumstances had taken out others, and now Rufus Shinra and the Turks were left with only three. But even with so few, it was a constant battle to keep them in working order. Also, Rude has mechanical experience and is the one on repairs.

16.) A civilian points out the flaws in Reno's hopes for the future of the Turks. "Well, to be honest, maybe my opinion of you guys is changin'." Doyle looked at Reno again with a level stare. "You're up to better things." Reno couldn't help averting his eyes. Unless it came from a fellow Turk, approval tended to make him uncomfortable. "The monument and the medicine are only one step, you know. Just wait. It might take a while, but Shinra's gonna get off the ground again. Rise again, you hear?" That general idea had been floating around in his head for some time. This was the first time he'd said it aloud. "How?" Doyle scowled, his thick eyebrows lowering. Reno cursed himself for the thoughtless comment. "Can't tell you." "Yeah, I figured. But no one is going to let a violent regime lord it over them again. Not anymore. You tell your president that."

17.) Tseng and Elena bring up the notion of inviting old Turks back into the fold. "For any one person, finding it (Jenova's head) may well seem like a futile task. But there is still a nonzero chance. Either way, staying in contact with our agents and meeting regularly are essential to maintaining organizational cohesion." " But how many...?" Elena glanced around and spoke in a stage whisper. "How many former Turks can we expect to help us?" In his mind, Tseng saw the faces of the old Turks, his former subordinates. Of those, he had made contact with-- They get interrupted and Elena rushes off to investigate something. Tseng watched his operative go with a wry smile. Below the hem of her sundress, old scars marked her legs. Once you joined the Turks, you were in for life. Even those who tried to get out and build new lives could be summoned back with a single phone call. Maybe it was a cruel call to make, Tseng thought. and he sighed.

18.) Reno & Rude defy a direct order from Tseng. "Dumbass," Reno muttered. "What are you waiting for? Engage!" Tseng's command rang from the speakers. "Evan's down there," Rude answered in Reno's stead. "He's already done for," said Tseng. "Fire." "No can do," said Reno. "Reno." Tseng made his name a sharp rebuke. "He's our friend." "Fine. Let me briefly explain--" Tseng's voice abruptly cut out. "Radio trouble," Rude mumbled, his hand drifting away from the radio's master switch.

There are a lot of quirky, funny, violent, or neato moments I didn't list, so check out the book if you want more insight. Hope this gave you some headcanon fodder.

[one-flower-one-sword]

His fingers curled into claws, and he aimed directly for Hua Cheng's right eye!

It all happened in under a second. Hua Cheng dodged just as fast, but the attack still left two bloody scratches on his cheek.

For the first time, Hua Cheng faced an opponent he couldn't overtake in speed. His gaze turned sharp, and he changed tactics on the spot - he called forth millions of wraith butterflies, and they swarmed the man in a frenzy. The myriad butterflies wrapped the white-clad man inside a large, shimmering silver chrysalis, but that likely wouldn't last long. Hua Cheng was about to grab Xie Lian when the silver butterflies shrieked and exploded into sparkling powder!

Seeing the subtle change to Hua Cheng's expression as so many wraith butterflies were destroyed at once, Xie Lian knew that this wasn't good. The white-clad man had blown apart the wraith butterflies, and now he was hidden within the shimmering silver powder that choked the air. His newly grown hand struck out once more, aiming again for Hua Cheng's right eye!

TGCF Volume 6, page 76

In this previous post, I've speculated about the logistics of Hua Cheng being blind on his right side and his usage of the wraith butterflies as a sort of disability aid in some instances. This above scene of his first direct clash against Bai Wuxiang is another one of those moments where the text isn't directly stating something but it's possible to extrapolate from what is described and from what is implied.

Hua Cheng is extremely skilled at direct combat at a very young age already, evidenced by the way he manages to injure several of Qi Rong's lackeys when they capture him as he's only ten years old:

"I called for five or six guys, and they still couldn't catch the brat. He trashed and bit them until they were bloodied all over."

Volume 2, page 351

And then later as a young soldier in the army:

"Although the boy was carrying nothing but a worn sword, he was still highly effective and struck down many of the binu. [...] "You've never used a saber before, right? You use a sword, but the sword is tricky. Although it's fast and extremely aggressive, its range is fairly limited. If you've never used a saber before, try it next time. I think you might be even stronger with it."

Volume 3, page 124-127

(The horrifying thing about this is of course that while Hua Cheng probably possessed natural talent, the reason why he had to learn to defend himself against adults as a mere child was that he was so severely and frequently beaten by them)

Also in my previous post, I speculated that Hua Cheng always keeping his right eye covered likely meant he learned early how to compensate for his blind spot in combat, since that obvious weakness is something his opponents would immediately notice and try to take advantage of. Until Bai Wuxiang, we never witness him fighting anyone who can actually injure him, not since he's become a Supreme Ghost King. He defeats 33 heavenly officials in a row, and even fighting two against one with Feng Xin and Mu Qing, he defeats both of them with ease.

I would argue that, aside from being extremely skilled with a saber and having immense spiritual powers, it can be extrapolated from the above quote about his fight against Bai Wuxiang that it's also Hua Cheng leveraging his superior speed against his opponents that prevents them from taking advantage of his blind spot.

(As an aside, I would assume that even when Hua Cheng is in a fake skin that has both eyes and not in his true form, he's still blind in the right one because it's, well, fake. If the text ever actually contradicts that (I've not read volume 8 yet) I will add corrections)

But now, he's facing Bai Wuxiang, who is just as if not even faster than him. Judging by the fact that Bai Wuxiang aims his attack at Hua Cheng's right eye twice, he's correctly judged his blind spot to be the most vulnerable place to go for, thereby managing to bypass his defense long enough to injure him.

Hua Cheng immediately reasses the situation, realizes he needs to create more distance between himself and his opponent, and switches to use his wraith butterflies as a sort of distract-defend-attack combo. And against everyone else, this would have worked - we see this when he uses them to drive Feng Xin and Mu Qing back after they kidnapped Xie Lian away from him:

The butterfly deluge was blocked by the formless spiritual shield and shattered into shimmering silver light, which rapidly recrystallized into new silver butterflies and attacked once more. The onslaught was completely unstoppable - Feng Xin and Mu Qing gave ground slowly as they kept their shields up, and Hua Cheng steadily advanced step by step.

Volume 6, page 63

And then again to keep Feng Xin away and occupied while he faces Mu Qing with Eming:

Meanwhile, each arrow Feng Xin shot at the butterflies was snapped by their sharp wings. The sheer number of butterflies was ultimately too difficult to deal with!

Volume 6, page 64

But Bai Wuxiang is infinitely more powerful and simply destroys all the wraith butterflies at once, which then gives him the opportunity to immediately go for Hua Cheng's blind spot a second time and aim his attack there again.

If we continue to read the wraith butterflies as not only a weapon but also a disability aid of sorts, these fight scenes demonstrate both the possible uses of them as such and also their limits. While they're feared for good reason and have multiple functions - acting as his eyes and ears like spies, defending like a shield or cutting like a blade - they can help him make up for his blind spot to a certain degree, but they can't erase it. They're an aid for his vision loss, not a replacement.

(Which is a good thing imo, just to make that clear. I feel like it's always such a wasted opportunity when characters sustain a disability and then it's either magically fixed or they continue on as if they're still able-bodied. But Hua Cheng is disabled, and the ways he's found to empower himself and to navigate a world that's pretty hostile to people like him, don't take away from that)

Like I mentioned above I haven't read Volume 8 yet, where as far as I know there'll be more fight scenes, so I might come back to this post in the future to add further observations or correct previous ones!

[lucky-clover-gazette]

kings rising highlights & annotations

chapter 9

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

The next morning, they had to sit next to each other.

me when i’m a high school junior and had a huge falling out with my best friend who i’m totally not in love with last night but we still have to coexist in ap english class

The joint thrones today were under a silk awning, raised to protect Laurent’s milkmaid skin from the sun.

BRUTAL

Lady Vannes murmuring into the ear of a new female pet

oooooh what happened to the old one? drama alert!!

A part of Damen acknowledged, a little guiltily, that Laurent probably hadn’t deserved to get thrown around the training arena as a result.

laurent would disagree

Nikandros said, without looking next to him, ‘Your uncle has wiped out half of our army with two hundred men.’ ‘And a belt,’ said Laurent.

nikandros private twitter vent #11. incoherent violent stick figure jpegs

Damen said, ‘At least someone else has a chance to win at javelin.’

i understand that people like sports and it’s a fun thing to add to a pretty serious story but i am the buzzkill here and ugh. sports

In the stands, slaves rhythmically raised and lowered fans and brought shallow cups of wine that everyone drank except Laurent.

me getting ginger beer at the bar yesterday while the dude i was with drank an espresso martini and two whiskeys

He came forward naked, as was the custom in Akielos.

i feel like violent dangerous sports are a really good occasion to wear MORE clothing, but go off i guess

The two men scooped oil from the receptacle brought to them by the stewards, anointed their bodies with it, then they slung their arms around one another’s shoulders, and, on the signal, heaved. The crowd cheered, the men grappled, their bodies straining against each other in slippery hold after slippery hold, until Pallas finally had Elon panting, on the grass, the sounds an eruption from the crowd.

this is like the not-evil twin of the veretian court wrestling

Damen rose from the throne, and put his hand to the gold brooch at his shoulder. His garment dropped and the crowd roared its approval.

you know, damen’s lack of freaking out about some of the indignities of the veretian court make more sense now

‘Good fight,’ he said, taking his place again on the throne beside Laurent. He waved over some wine. ‘What is it?’ ‘Nothing,’ said Laurent, and found somewhere else to put his eyes.

hang in there buddy

‘What can we expect next? I really feel,’ said Vannes, ‘it might be anything.’

i love the slight disdain here

‘Who did this to you?’ ‘I did,’ Laurent said. Damen turned. Laurent stood in the entryway of the tent. He was arranged with elegant grace and his lazy, blue-eyed attention was all on Nikandros. Laurent said, ‘I meant to kill him, but my uncle wouldn’t let me.’ Nikandros took an impotent step forward but Damen already had a restraining hand on his arm. Nikandros’s hand had gone to the hilt of his sword. His eyes were on Laurent furiously. Laurent said, ‘He sucked my cock too.’ Nikandros said, ‘Exalted, I beg permission to challenge the Prince of Vere to a duel of honour for the insult that he has done to you.’ ‘Denied,’ said Damen. ‘You see?’ said Laurent. ‘He has forgiven me for the small matter of the whip. I have forgiven him for the small matter of killing my brother. All praise the alliance.’ ‘You flayed the skin from his back.’ ‘Not personally. I just watched while I had my man do it.’ Laurent said it with a fronded, long-lashed gaze. Nikandros looked physically sick with the effort of repressing his anger. ‘How many lashes was it? Fifty? One hundred? He might have died!’ Laurent said, ‘Yes, that was the idea.’

LAMEN HR COMPLAINT #8

god i FUCKING love this little confrontation. i appreciate how we can start easing into some more comedy with these specific characters, because nobody here is like actively enslaved or abused. they’re all on even footing, so shots can be fired for fun, and can be read as such. the analysis here, in short, is that damen and laurent are both insane about each other and nikandros just has to deal with it. laurent thinks it’s amusing to mess with nikandros, and to a lesser degree damen. and damen tolerates it because he knows laurent behind his performative cruelty, but can’t possibly explain that to nikandros. regardless, laurent has immunity from damen, which means he also has immunity from nikandros.

this is also a good way to show how both damen and laurent have started “settling” the matters of damen killing auguste and laurent punishing him in vere, since the last scene where both subjects were heavily referenced.

Angry as he was, Nikandros wouldn’t disobey a direct order. His training was too deeply ingrained.

i like this subtle moment. damen grew up in the same culture, yet one of his main Things in this series has always been disobeying orders he disagrees with. built different!

‘Why would you do that? He’ll defect.’ ‘He’s not going to defect. He is your most loyal servant.’ ‘So you push him to breaking point?’ ‘Should I have told him I didn’t enjoy it?’ said Laurent. ‘But I did enjoy it. I liked it most near the end, when you broke down.’

laurent calculated and performative cruelty to protect himself from being vulnerable, you know the drill by now

‘You didn’t have to come here. You could have sent a messenger.’ In the pause that followed, Laurent’s gaze shifted involuntarily sideways. A strange prickling passing over his skin, Damen realised that Laurent was looking at the polished mirror behind him at the reflection of his scars. Their eyes met again. Laurent wasn’t often caught out, but a single glance had betrayed him. They both knew it. Damen felt the hard ache of it. ‘Admiring your handiwork?’

damen: i know you came here on purpose to spend time with me alone when you totally didn���t have to laurent: [very obviously checks out damen’s bare back, and not just for the symbolism reasons] damen: you want to look at me so bad (because you have an emotional attachment to the marks and you want to torture us both about it, and also because you think i’m hot. in both cases you’re the desperate one here, i win)

‘I’ll join you after I’ve dressed. Unless you want to step closer. You can help stick in the pin.’ ‘Do it yourself,’ said Laurent.

this sounds like their prince’s gambit-era antagonistic, vaguely horny, reluctantly fond banter. we’re getting somewhere!

The fever pitch of the crowd was bloodthirsty. The okton brought that out in them, the danger, the threat of maiming. The second of two targets was hammered onto its struts, and the attendants gave the all clear. In the heat of the day, anticipation was an insect buzz, rising to a commotion on the south-western side of the field.

this is such a fucking terrible idea you are in a WAR. damen you are going to be KING. why are you risking your life to play a sports right now. it would be like if the person about to cure a disease decided to play a game of bowling with a 80% survival rate right before they finished the vaccine

Damen heard the reaction of those around him. The Veretian Prince was, at a glance, Damen’s athletic inferior. Certainly, he avoided the training fields. No Akielon had ever seen him fight, or take exercise. He had not participated in any of today’s contests. He had done nothing more than sit, elegant and relaxed, as now. ‘Veretians do not train in the okton,’ said Damen. ‘In Akielos, the okton is known as the sport of kings,’ said Makedon. ‘Our own King will take the field. Does the Prince of Vere lack the courage to ride against him?’

makedon wants that twink obliterated

Damen waited for Laurent to sidestep, to evade, to find, somehow, the words to extricate himself from the situation. The flags fluttered loudly. The stands were silent, to a man. ‘Why not?’ said Laurent.

FSIUFHSDIUFHSDF i love laurent so much it’s unreal. this is the same response you’d give if a friend asked if you wanted to get takeout on a thursday night. “yeah, why not?” mr. “probably” laurent strikes again

Mounted, Damen faced the course, holding his horse ready at the starting line. His mount shifted, fractious, eager for the horn that would signal his start. Two horses down from his own, he could see Laurent’s bright head.

their horses who are canonically in love with each other get to do homoerotic sports too!!

But the true challenge of the okton was this: if you missed, your spear might kill your opponent. If your opponent missed, you were dead.

i was going to say “thankfully there are no real-life sports that sacrifice the physical well-being and possibly lives of eager-to-impress youths looking for glory and compensation” but then i remembered american college football exists

Laurent could also throw a spear. Probably.

probably.

But all of that meant nothing in the face of the okton. Men died during the okton. Men fell, men suffered permanent injury—from a spear; from hooves after a fall. Out of the corner of his eye, Damen could see the physicians, including Paschal, who waited on the sidelines, ready to patch and sew. There was a great deal at stake for the lives of the physicians, with royalty from two countries on the field. There was a great deal at stake for everyone.

not beating the american college football allegations

Damen could not aid Laurent in the contest.

he’ll kill one of his own people by throwing a sword across a clearing to save his captor in book 2, but he won’t use his kingly authority to say “hey guys maybe let’s not put both of the army’s leaders, one of whom is the love of my life and also my divorced husband, in the hunger games right now”

There was something intellectual in the way he assessed the field, and it set him apart from the other riders. For Laurent, physical pursuits were not instinctive, and for the first time it occurred to Damen to wonder if Laurent even enjoyed them. Laurent had been bookish as a boy, before he had re-formed himself.

“he should be at the (afterschool dungeons and dragons) club”

Laurent dealt with the danger of the okton by simply behaving as though it did not exist.

that tracks externally, but i also think that inside laurent’s brain he does acknowledge it, he just has a precise threshold of acceptable risk

Instinct reacted before thought. The spear was driving towards his chest; Damen caught it out of the air, his hand closing hard around the shaft, the momentum of it wrenching his shoulder back. He absorbed it, tightening his grip with his thighs to keep himself in the saddle.

this would be even more impressive if it was not the solution to a dangerous situation you ACTIVELY MADE HAPPEN

All his attention was on the other spear, flying towards Laurent. His heart jammed in his throat. On the other side of the course, Pallas was frozen. In that stricken moment of choice, Pallas could only decide whether to dodge and risk his cowardice killing a prince, or stand his ground and receive a spear to the throat. His fate was tied to Laurent’s, and unlike Damen, he had no recourse for what to do. Laurent knew it. Like Damen, Laurent had seen it early—had seen the strut collapse, had judged the outcome. In the handful of extra seconds that this afforded him, Laurent acted without hesitation. He released his reins—and as Damen watched, as the spear flew right for him—he jumped, not out of the way, but into the path of the spear, leaping from his horse to Pallas’s, dragging them both to the left. Pallas swayed, shocked, and Laurent bodily kept him down low in the saddle. The spear sailed past them and landed in the tufted grass like a javelin.

an akielion wouldn’t think to do THAT, would they!!

(also, love the little parallel to prince’s gambit, with damen ripping the grate out of the wall and laurent’s meticulous scheming. here it’s not as much a competition as it is a mutual/cooperative victory, with damen stopping the javelin mid-air and laurent intelligently evading the other one headed towards him)

The crowd went wild. Laurent ignored it. Laurent reached down and neatly filched Pallas’s last spear for himself. And, keeping Pallas’s horse at a gallop—as the sounds of the crowd swelled to a crescendo—he threw it, sending it flying right into the centre of the final target. Completing the okton one spear ahead of Pallas and of Damen, Laurent drew his horse up in a little circle, and met Damen’s gaze, his pale brows rising, as if to say, ‘Well?’ Damen grinned. He hefted the spear he had caught, and from where he was on the far side of the course, threw; let it go sailing over the full, impossible length of the field, to thunk into the target alongside Laurent’s spear, where it rested, quivering. Pandemonium.

they are both That Bitch. perfect for each other, and now everyone knows it (kinda) <3

After, they crowned each other with laurels.

cute

There was a warmth in his chest whenever he looked at Laurent. He didn’t look often for that reason.

Their men would ride out unified, and if there was a crack down the centre, no one knew about it. He and Laurent were good at pretending.

no they’re not. they’re just becoming more entertaining and endearing than annoying and frustrating, so people are more likely to listen to them

Laurent took his place on one of the lounging couches like he was born to it. Damen sat alongside him.

and all was right with the universe

The whole room went silent. Makedon and Laurent faced one another. The silence stretched out. ‘You have the mind of a snake,’ Makedon said. ‘You have the mind of an old bull,’ said Laurent. They stared at one another. After a long moment, Makedon waved at the slave, who came forward with a fat-bellied bottle of Akielon spirits and two shallow cups. ‘I will drink with you,’ said Makedon.

i love this unlikely friendship. laurent is being socialized like a feral kitten

Laurent glanced at the wine that the slave had poured, and Damen knew with absolute certainty that if it was wine, Laurent wasn’t going to drink. Damen braced himself for the moment when every scrap of goodwill that Laurent had garnered for himself was thrown away—as every tenet of Akielon hospitality was insulted, and Makedon swept forever out of the hall. Laurent picked up the cup in front of him, drained it, then returned it to the table. Makedon gave a slow nod of approval, lifted his own cup, downed it. And said, ‘Again.’

extremely loud airhorn goes off SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS

Later, when a great many overturned cups scattered the low table, Makedon leaned forward and told Laurent he must try griva, the drink from his own region, and Laurent downed it and said it tasted like swill, and Makedon said, ‘Ha, ha, true!’ Later, Makedon told the story of his first games, when Ephagin won the okton, and the bannermen grew misty-eyed, and everyone had another drink. Later, everyone roared when Laurent was able to balance three empty cups on top of each other, while Makedon’s cups fell over.

is this just what frat parties are like?

Laurent maintained a scrupulous posture until they were all gone, his eyes dilated, his cheeks slightly flushed. Damen spread his arm over the back of his own seat and waited. After a long moment, Laurent said, ‘I’m going to need some help standing up.’

i love that damen just Waited. he knew. he wanted laurent to admit it. they’re so funny

He wasn’t expecting to receive Laurent’s full weight, but he did, a warm arm slung around his neck, and he was suddenly breathless with the feeling of Laurent in his arms. His hands came up to steady Laurent’s waist, his heart behaving strangely. It was sweetly, impossibly illicit. He felt the ache in his chest. Damen said, ‘The Prince and I are retiring,’ and waved the lingering slaves out. ‘It’s this way,’ said Laurent. ‘Probably.’

‘Is today the first time you’ve been beaten in an okton?’ ‘Technically, it was a draw,’ said Damen. ‘Technically. I told you I was quite good at riding. I used to beat Auguste all the time when we raced at Chastillon. It took me until I was nine to realise he was letting me win. I just thought I had a very fast pony. You’re smiling.’ He was smiling.

drunk laurent happily telling damen about auguste :’) also the “you’re smiling” is so adorable, i love how we’re getting some dorky soft laurent finally. he contains multitudes. this, like, “suddenly aware that he’s being cute and appreciated for it, slightly indignant but also allowing it because it’s damen who thinks he’s cute” thing is wonderful and tbh i hope i can someday allow myself to be like that too :)

‘Am I talking too much? I can’t hold alcohol at all.’ ‘I can see that.’ ‘It’s my fault. I never drink. I should have realised I’d need to, with men like these, and made an effort to . . . build up some sort of tolerance . . .’ He was serious. ‘Is that how your mind works?’ said Damen. ‘And what do you mean, you never drink?

drunk laurent is so funny. and i love how damen is amused, endeared, and absolutely fascinated by the inner workings of this man. me too.

also, it's insane that laurent would ever ask if he's talking too much. taking too much is like his entire thing

side note: this is 100% how i am when i use any kind of mind-altering substances, like a sedative before a root canal. i remember detailing how i felt in my notes app at the time and then reading it later and being both impressed by the determination to remain incoherent and amused by the inserted notes of “why am i laughing” “why is everything funny”

You were drunk the first night I met you.’ ‘I made an exception,’ said Laurent, ‘that night. Two and a half bottles. I had to force myself to get it down. I thought it would be easier drunk.’ ‘You thought what would be easier?’ said Damen. ‘“What”?’ said Laurent. ‘You.’ Damen felt the hairs rise over his whole body. Laurent said it softly, and as though it was obvious, his blue eyes a little hazy, his arm still around Damen’s neck. They were gazing at one another, halted in the half-light of the passage. ‘My Akielon bed slave,’ said Laurent, ‘named for the man who killed my brother.’

“no shit, i got drunk”

It wasn’t unusual for two young men to wander the halls together, swaying, after a revel—even among princes—and Damen could pretend for a moment that they were what they seemed to be: brothers in arms. Friends.

you guys got publicly married-divorced and laurent told an entire army that you fucked each other multiple times. you wear matching arm cuffs. even your horses are in love. be so serious rn

The guards on either side of the entrance were too well trained to react to the presence of royalty leaning all over each other.

They Pretend They Do Not See It (not an HR complain bc they’re not really bothering anyone or breaking rules)

‘No one is to enter,’ Damen ordered the guards. He was aware of the implication—Damianos entering a bedchamber with a young man in his arms and ordering everyone out—and he ignored it. If Isander suddenly had a startling reason why the frigid Prince of Vere had foregone his services, so be it.

oh nooooo what a shame if isander backed off from your man, what an unintended and unfortunate consequence, oh nooooooo

Laurent, intensely private, would not want his household present while he dealt with the effects of a night’s worth of drinking.

just got a vision of laurent as heather chandler in the hangover/death scene. wearing that cunty little robe and talking shit

Laurent was going to wake with a blinding headache fuelling his corrosive tongue, and pity anyone who ran into him then. As for Damen, he was going to give Laurent a push in the small of his back and send him staggering the four steps to the bed. Damen unlooped Laurent’s arm from his neck, disengaged himself. Laurent took a step under his own power, and lifted a hand to his jacket, blinking. ‘Attend me,’ Laurent said, unthinkingly. ‘For old time’s sake?’ said Damen. It was a mistake to say that. He stepped forward and put his hands on the ties of Laurent’s jacket. He began to draw the ties from their moorings. He felt the curve of Laurent’s ribcage as the tie threaded through its eye. The jacket tangled at Laurent’s wrist. It took some effort to get it off, disordering Laurent’s shirt. Damen stopped, his hands still inside the jacket.

:)

Under the fine fabric of Laurent’s shirt, Paschal had bound Laurent’s shoulder to strengthen it. He saw it with a pang. It was something Laurent would not have let him see sober, a keen breach of privacy. He thought of sixteen spears thrown, with a constant effort of arm and shoulder, after rough exertion the day before.

fuck, that’s right. damn laurent

Damen took a step back, said: ‘Now you can say you were served by the King of Akielos.’ ‘I could say that anyway.’

he may be white girl wasted but he’s still our laurent

Lamp-lit, the room was filled with orange light, revealing its simple furnishings, the low chairs, the wall table with its bowl of fresh-picked fruit.

this time, the fruit basket guy just showed the kitchen staff a bunch of ao3 fics tagged “in vino veritas” and told them to make it work

Laurent was a different presence in his white undershirt.

makes him sound like a cryptid. blonde man jumpscare

They were gazing at each other.

we know.

‘I miss you,’ said Laurent. ‘I miss our conversations.’

he would not have admitted this under torture

(also, i really like how he misses their conversations first and foremost. laurent really does love damen for his mind and heart, more than anything else. damen is the same, but he's a lot more vocally into the other parts of laurent too)

It was too much. He remembered being strapped to the post and half killed; sober, Laurent had made the line very clear, and he was aware that he had crossed it, they both had.

damen is still afraid to potentially take advantage of laurent, especially because of what happened the first time laurent interpreted his advances in such a light (ow)

‘You’re drunk,’ said Damen. ‘You’re not yourself.’ He said, ‘I should take you to bed.’ ‘Then, take me,’ said Laurent.

Laurent lay where Damen put him, on his back in a half-open shirt, his hair tumbled, his expression unguarded. His knee was pushed out to the side, his breathing was slow as one in sleep, the thin fabric of his shirt lay against his skin, rising and falling with it. ‘You don’t like me like this?’

first thing, good for him. second thing, not good for him, because trauma, and the fact that he sees himself as a sexual object (i went a lot more into this during the chapter 7 re-analysis)

‘You’re really . . . not yourself.’ ‘Aren’t I?’

i do think damen means this as a “you could punish me for taking advantage,” but i also think there is the fact that damen doesn’t want a version of laurent who isn’t in his right mind (like slaves, who aren’t given the ability to have minds of their own). this calls back to the whole “you like it simple” thing in chapter 7, and it’s pretty satisfying to see damen prove laurent wrong!

‘I tried to kill you. I can’t seem to go through with it. You keep overturning all my plans.’

said with hearts in his eyes <3

Damen found a water pitcher and poured water into a shallow cup that he brought to the low table by Laurent’s bed. Then he emptied the fruit bowl of fruit and put it on the floor alongside, to be used as a drunk soldier might use an empty helmet.

THEY WORKED HARD ON THAT THEMATICALLY RELEVANT FRUIT BASKET >:( although perhaps this is its true thematic relevance? a means of damen helping laurent care for himself in recovery?

‘Laurent. Sleep it off. In the morning, you can punish us both. Or forget this ever happened. Or pretend to.’ He did all of this quite adeptly,

at least he’s getting more self-aware about his own blind spots, or at least his ability to have them

Laurent, falling through scattered thoughts into sleep, said, ‘Yes, uncle.’

i think this line honestly might have been a step too far. not necessarily because it’s a bad thing for laurent to say, i get that it makes sense for him to associate this kind of vulnerability with [redacted], and it’s even possible that laurent doesn’t drink now because the regent got him drunk before he [redacted].

why i think it miiiiiiight not work, is the fact that damen doesn’t oh fuck wait i JUST made note of a line where damen acknowledges how he can “quite adeptly” ignore things, literally a few sentences ago. i can’t even say he would have noticed, or made note of it, because that is his character. and the irony is like right there on the page. it’s frustrating to read, but it’s an intentional choice. well played as usual!

[ikarakie]

quotes/snippets from my unfinished steddie fics

in no particular order

“I heard about what happened outside with Billy.” Steve cringes at the name, and Jim is just actively ignoring the expressions of the Munsons now. “You swear you did that on purpose?” Steve draws a cross over his heart. “Swear.” He sighs wistfully, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. “I wouldn’t have wrecked that car if I didn’t have to.” “You what?” Eddie cries, incredibly distressed all over again. 

If Eddie had to pick one of them to lie to the FBI for him, he’d pick Steve over Robin any day of the week.

Suddenly Lucas appears out of one of the aisles, a couple tapes in hand. Eddie watches him approach the counter, clearly nervous, and hears them clatter into a pile as he presses the bell.  “Hi, uh– if you’re done checking these guys out, can I rent these?” Again, his tone is impressively even, layered over with that smarmy teenage self-entitlement. He’s acting just as composed as Robin, as if he isn’t sixteen and acting as a distraction in order to harbor two fugitives from FBI agents. Fucking lunatics, the lot of them.

The beefy one finally speaks up, his voice low and booming, rattling Eddie’s bones. “Just don’t approach him if you see him, and you’ll be fine.” He says ominously, like Steve was some sort of eldritch horror. The idea was a little hilarious.

Wheeler, weirdly enough, seems to be the only one out of them who acknowledges how fucking bizarre this situation looked to the interlopers in the room.  He blinks at Eddie, somewhat owlishly. Eddie raises an eyebrow in question. Wheeler gulps, says, “Bye.” And hurries out. Well then. “That was fucking bizarre.” Eddie comments.

“Your campaign right now. Using demogorgons?” He frowns, then adds, “Or mind flayers?” Eddie just… he fully blanks. Because what the fuck are those words doing coming out of Steve Harrington’s mouth? He feels his mouth moving, hears his voice agree, “Yeah. Mind flayer. Big bad guy.” But his face is honestly numb and he’s becoming semi-convinced that this whole thing isn’t real. 

It’s actually hilarious watching Robin shoulder past Rob Harrington and rush up the stairs with her shoes still on like she owns the place. She’s probably been here more than they have in the past year, so in a way, she does. Hopper follows on her heels.

He’d stumbled on something big here. Something he shouldn’t get involved with. He needs to tuck his forked tail between his legs and scamper outta here as quick as he can.  He doesn’t, of course. Instead, he sticks around like a moron, hearing a round of tired laughter. The words ‘falsely proclaimed dead’ stick in his mind like gum on a shoe, demanding his attention, but losing out to the continuing conversation.

[1moreff-creator]

how often was ace guessed as the ch2 culprit during the hiatus? i wasn't around for it so im a bit curious

Not very often, but he wasn't, like, the most unheard of. This Accirax poll from august had him in fourth, as well as this reduced cast Star poll, so he wasn't as "clear" as people like Charles, David, etc. Below the is the impression I got as someone who was only here for part of the hiatus, I didn't visit Tumblr very often after 2024 began up to the release of CH2 EP12.

Levi was by far the most common guess, as everyone and their mother called that Arei had his secret and that made him look suspicious from a meta sense. And Hu has this funny thing where her secret quote in the source code of her character page, "I want to pay for what I’ve done. But even then, I still want to live," is the most "blackened" thing in existence, so she'll probably never escape top guesses for culprit no matter what. Add in the ideas that Levi could have broken Arei's neck without rope (strength argument) and Hu's wire was in the Ace-Nico crime scene (many believed the culprit of both would have to be the same for one reason or another), and they were the two big picks across the general fandom. Especially for those not insane enough to do full murder theories and stuff.

J was also up there because of MonoTV's comment that the Movie Screening Room's wall connected to the playground, which many believed could mean there was a secret passage she could access with her Universal Remote, and that made her shady. Clearly the comment was just to give a general idea of the spatial disposition of the building and room, but I understand why many thought it would be more important than that.

Probably the funniest situation was Eden, though. Because the tape thing and lockdown reasoning (that only Teruko, Ace and Eden were in the room were the tape, used in the murder, disappeared) was something the theorizing fandom was very aware of. You know, that think that actually ended up pointing at the culprit? Yeah, we knew that. A lot of people argued against its importance, but we were aware of it at least.

In fact, the linked accirax post mentions "the 1moreff-creator/thebadjoe scripture" because (at least here on Tumblr) we were some of the biggest exponents of Eden!Culprit with our respective theories, and we both used the tape's disappearance as reasoning for it. Now, make no mistake, there were always plenty of people that thought Ace could have been the one to take the tape, and in fact I'm sure that could have certainly earned him some votes in the linked polls, but a lot of people that pointed to the tape believed that, based on the way the scene played out, only Eden could have taken it.

We were wrong.

Sorry about that, Eden :v I swear I would have picked Ace as the culprit if the scene made it a bit easier to believe he picked up the tape T_T

That said, if you looked hard enough, there were always people who guessed pretty much everyone as the blackened. From guessing that David could have manipulated someone into murder and he'd be the blackened (even then, the main guess for murderer in this case was Hu I believe), Whit because of the "hanging out" comment (and general Whit bullshittery), Arturo because he was one of the only people who we knew would have heard the Arei-Eden conversation referenced in the note, Rose as a bit of a wild card guess because of her lack of alibi at night, to Charles (somehow) because the handwriting in the note is strikingly similar to the handwriting in the custom weapons list. Hell, after LGI some thought David would replace Teruko as the protag, maybe there was some kind of Teruko!Culprit theory out there. We had a lot of fun :D

So, as a final answer, I'd say there were four big "tiers" of characters in terms of character suspicion. "Main Suspects," being Levi and Hu, "Popular Alternative Guesses" including J and Eden, "Some Guesses Here and There" including Rose, David, Whit, etc., and "No Shot" including things like Xander, Min, Arei, Teruko and possibly Charles. I would say Ace fell in the lower end of "Popular Alternative Guesses" tier, take that as you will.

Thanks for the ask! It was fun to reminisce!

[voylitscope]

Stucky Recs: Holiday fics

December is here, so I've gathered twelve holiday Stucky fics to make this rec post for all of you. They're all perfect for reading under a blanket with the warm beverage of your choice.

Canon Holiday fics

❄️Paper tree | Ellessey | Explicit | 21,391 words

I don't know if it's just me, but I feel like pre-war fluff always has this extra softness to it, even more, somehow, than even the softest and sweetest of AUs. It just hits different. This wonderfully warm and feel-good holiday fic is such a perfect example of what I mean. Steve and Bucky are so sweet to, and about, each other in this fic, and I adore it. This one is also broken up into scenes that happen on different days as December goes on. I always enjoy that sort of formatting so much in a holiday fic, and, in this case, it also gives a whole month of delightful, endearing, and lovely pre-war moments.

Quote:

"It's a different taste, though! I want the authentic Mallo experience, in drink form." "It's coconut. The different taste is coconut. We could make it ourselves." Bucky's face lights up, and Steve adds another thing to his mental list of ways he can make those blue eyes get all happy and bright. He thinks about how many things he's not good at, how many things are so hard for him, but seem easy for everyone else with their perfectly functioning hearts, lungs, ears, and eyes. And he thinks about how easy it's always been for him to make Bucky happy. Doesn't even seem like he has to try, but he likes to try anyway. He drops another marshmallow in his own mug, and two in Bucky's, and thinks he could probably spend the whole rest of his life just trying and trying and trying.

❄️On the other end of the line | velleities | Teen | 9,385 words |

So, okay, only the last part of this fic takes place on Christmas. This fic does go through the rest of the year, too. But I feel like the Christmas-set resolution is significant enough to make this one solidly a holiday fic. It's also a gorgeous fic. It's a Post-TWS recovery fic that makes plenty of time for how not-okay Steve is, something I always really appreciate. Like I said, this fic takes them through a year, a Bucky-recovery year, and the growth and rediscovery of their relationship in that year is so well done. It's sometimes heartbreaking and sometimes sweet and always beautiful. I know calling a 9k fic a slow burn is debatable, so I won't say this is a slow burn. But I will say, that by the time this fic is done, these two have really earned their happy and romantic resolution.

Quote:

He can’t hold up a conversation. He doesn’t want Bucky to go – he craves his company – but he’s too drained to think of anything to say. He resorts to just feeling pitiful for himself, breathing in and out and listening to Bucky breathing in and out in return. “D’you want to hang up?” Bucky asks gently. “No,” Steve says hurriedly. “Okay.” Twenty minutes later, Steve is slowly drifting into sleep. “Steve?”   “Mm?” Steve mumbles into the phone, cradling it as if cradling Bucky. “G’night.” “G’night, Buck,” he manages drowsily. Steve somehow sleeps through the night.

❄️I got that good thing for you | canistakahari | Explicit | 5,830 words

You know that correct version of things where, these days, Steve and Bucky live in a nice brownstone in Brooklyn? And awful things have stopped happening to Bucky? And the events of Infinity War and Endgame definitely never occurred? And Steve and Bucky are really happy and super in love? Right. This fic happens in that world, and I love it. This is just so cozy and domestic. It's so low-stakes and so romantic. It's a holiday fic, and it's a fic about just how much Steve loves both making Bucky happy and seeing Bucky happy. It's also a fic about Bucky wanting to get the aesthetic exactly right for a specific sex fantasy. And honestly? They deserve that. We, as a fandom, deserve that. This fic is a joy.

Quote:

“I’ve spent a lot of time looking at pictures of other people's Christmas lights.” Bucky extricates himself from his blanket nest and walks right up to Steve, puts a hand on his chest, and kisses him firmly on the mouth. He is solid and soft at the same time, his hair carrying the faint scent of wood smoke and cold air from the tree farm. “I'll get your lights,” mumbles Steve against his lips. Bucky grins. “Yeah. I’ll make you cookies.” Oh. Oh, Steve didn’t realize it was a trade. It doesn’t have to be, but Bucky is offering. “What kind?” “Whatever kind you want,” says Bucky. He slides his hands down Steve’s chest, fingers tucked into the top of Steve’s jeans. “Even if you want nuts in them.” Steve cocks his head. Bucky doesn’t make cookies often, but whenever he does, Steve counts every single one of his blessings. Bucky will eat two or three and then leave the rest to Steve to devour, which he does, often within the first twelve hours of them appearing. The whole batch.

❄️Home is the Human Heart | aimmyarrowshigh @aimmyarrowshigh | Teen | 3,194 words

This fic parallels two years: one in during the post-TWS recovery era and one when Steve and Bucky are young. The scenes go back and forth between the two years in a way that really sets this fic's tone. It's beautifully done, and there's a touch of a really lovely bittersweetness that never takes away from the warmth, joy, or hopefulness of this fic. I also really, really love how Steve goes about things, with and for Bucky, in the current era scenes. Also! This fic has a line near the end that hit me hard when I first read it and that I still think about all the time.

Quote:

Rachel crawls out from under the table. Bucky gets the jar of pennies he and Becca have been collecting for the last year, and Becca gets the dreidel. Rachel’s eyes go wide at the sight of all the money. There’s probably fifty cents clanking around in the jar. “Steve, d’you remember how to play?” Bucky asks. “Of course.” Steve sounds affronted. “How many years’ve I been losing to you, ya lousy cheat?” “You can’t cheat at dreidel,” Bucky says, laughing. “Punk.” “Jerk.” “I don’t know how!” Rachel says. She kicks Bucky’s knee under the table. “I wanna play!”

❄️Two strangers in the bright lights | Claudia_flies | Explicit | 7,348 words

Listen, listen. It's a holiday fic! It's a post-TWS recovery fic! It's a tower fic! It's a fake dating fic! It's a damn delight, and you should read it. The love-struck, dopey-eyed, total disaster about each other, antics happening throughout this fic are just wonderful, truly. Bucky spends about 85% of this fic practically on Steve's lap . To make the fake dating look real and fool the other Avengers, of course. (Obviously, we need to do it this way, Steve! It has to be convincing, Steve!) And Steve spends about 85% of this fic absurdly happy about Bucky doing just that, and also noticing that doing these things seems to make Bucky happy, and then being even happier because Bucky is happy — but then not examining that too closely, because, you know, Bucky is clearly just really good at this plan and super committed to it. A joy of a fic that's so much fun to read.

Quote:

Steve finds the tablet discarded among the multitude of cushions on the couch while waiting for their new French press to finish brewing, and as soon as he touches the screen, it opens on a web page titled ‘10 Cute Holiday Winter Dates To Go On With Your Boyfriend’ written in an obnoxiously cutesy script. The first one on the list is ice skating, and the next one is decorating the tree together. Each bullet point is accompanied by a cheap stock photo and some inane text about why this particular date is suitable for a cute winter romance. Gently, Steve closes the tablet and carefully places it back where he found it. He pours the coffee into two matching mugs and carries them into the still-dark bedroom. Bucky mumbles something resembling a “thank you” from underneath several pillows and most of the covers as Steve places the steaming cup on his bedside table. Steve smiles and climbs back into the bed, sitting up against the headboard with his coffee and a book. It’s probably the most perfect Sunday morning he’s had in a lifetime.

❄️(I'll be home for Christmas) if only in my dreams | crinklefries | Teen | 13,728 words

A 5+ 1 that looks at 5 earlier holidays, but starts and ends on the current one, one that Steve and Bucky are spending together, in Wakanda. It's an emotional gut punch of a fic, in the best and most satisfying of ways. I love the holidays this fic chooses to showcase, the little stories it chooses to tell, and the moments it chooses to share. I love the wonderfully sweet holiday tradition it creates for Steve and Bucky. I love the way that tradition becomes something that is so important and so meaningful that they're able to keep it, even when it should have been impossible. Really gorgeous stuff.

Quote:

For the first time since his capture, Bucky feels safe. They’re in a fucking goddamn ditch killing fucking goddamn Nazis on fucking goddamn Christmas, but Bucky can hear Steve’s heart beat, strong and steady under his ear, and he feels safe. Maybe because it’s Christmas day, but there are no shots fired. It’s mostly quiet, the group of them in their respective ditches, tensed, just waiting. Someone--Dugan, he thinks, or maybe Gabe Jones--starts singing a Christmas song and then the rest of the start singing too. Steve’s never had much of a singing voice, but he tries and Bucky tries not to smile.

AU Holiday Fics

☃️'tis the damn season | chicklette | Explicit | 4,625 words

A fic about a Steve and Bucky who grew up together, were together as teenagers, and who, if they're being honest, have been in love their whole lives. But they're adults now, and they refuse to hold each other back. This a general premise that comes up decently often in Stucky AUs, and I'm typically into it for them. I can see these two and their stubborn, self-sacrificing ways, each deciding that they were the thing stopping the other from a goal/plan/the general idea of growing up. It's a very specific sort of exes-to-lovers story, and it leads to a very specific feelings reveal, one that's not "I'm in love with you," but instead, "I've never gotten even a little bit over you." It's something that can work so well for these two, sometimes, and this fic is an example of it being done just absolutely gorgeously. It's warm and painful and sexy all at once — until its wonderfully romantic resolution.

Quote:

Steve’s hair is a little long on top, and he’s rocking a scruffy beard, and fuck him for looking so goddamned good. It isn’t fair, Bucky thinks, mixing the drink. It isn’t fair that he looks so fucking good, that he looks exhausted and stressed out and kind of sad, and he’s still the best thing Bucky’s ever seen. It isn’t fair that Steve shows up every year at Christmas and it is Christmas, it’s a fucking gift and Bucky looks forward to it all damn year, but this year there was a little dread too because every year it takes him a little longer to let go.

☃️I've got a lot to pine about | cable-knit-sweater @cable-knit-sweater | Mature | 6,113 words

I just love a fic about people who are having Totally Very Casual sex, and who are both convinced they are the only person in this situation who has developed feelings. A fic about people who are pining while actively hooking up. 10/10. Great trope. This fic is that trope, used at Christmas, and it's wonderful. There are so many feelings! There are ridiculously cute seasonal activities! There are sweet holiday gestures! There are two absolute idiots in love, being painfully obvious about how in love they are — while both being certain, just completely convinced, that the other is definitely only here for the casual sex! There is a romantic holiday resolution! Just a complete delight.

Quote:

Once they get there, though, he forgets about his worries and actually has a good time. There’s a small Christmas market, a stall with hot chocolate and apple cider, and he’s surrounded by his friends. Even Steve seems to be feeling a little better about the whole festive season, and Bucky likes to think he played a hand in that.  What makes it all even better is that Steve is wearing the earmuffs Bucky bought him. He looks ridiculously cute, like Bucky’d expected. The fact that Nat tells Steve he looks cute and makes him blush and grumble a little annoyedly, makes it absolutely perfect.  At some point, he doesn’t get away with just staying on the sidelines and sipping his hot chocolate, and Steve drags him onto the ice. He must notice how Bucky is a little nervous.  “I’ll hold your hand?” Steve offers. “I’ll make sure you don’t fall. I got you.”

☃️If Only in My Dreams | odetteandodile | Teen | 28,317 words

A holiday rom-com. A joy. Sweet, trope-filled, funny, and so very romantic. This fic has a Hallmark Channel-worthy premise in the most fun and most wonderful way. I am a firm supporter of Steve and Bucky getting to have a rom-com life. Instead of, you know, the relentless tragedy of canon. I also really enjoy that, unlike many actual Hallmark Movies, the central conflict continuing to be a conflict throughout the fic is completely believable and understandable. And then, when we get to the end, it's all resolved in such a satisfying (and romantic! and lovely!) way.

Quote:

He’s been so good today, so laser-focused on taking Sam’s advice to heart and throwing his all into his work—into cementing this dream he’s been working toward for nearly three years. It was steadying to apply himself to the tangible things he could make and do, utterly rooted in reality. But the thing is—Steve is real. He may look like a fantasy somebody invented to torture Bucky this week, but he’s a flesh-and-blood person. And he’s looking back at Bucky like Bucky is the dream guy. Bucky doesn’t make a move to step any closer. All of his words and common sense have abandoned him. So he just stands with his heart hammering foolishly against his ribs at the edge of the room. Steve doesn’t look away. But after a moment he squares his shoulders and stands, his full height and broad chest emphasized under the cut of his uniform, light glinting off the medals and ribbons on his coat.

☃️Whose arms will hold you | biblionerd07 | Gen | 10,843 words

The first of two fics on this list to feature a holiday road trip home from college, a snowstorm, and, yes, only one bed. This one is a meet-cute, and wow, is it cute. Seriously, this fic is just so, so very sweet. When I was pulling this list together, I quickly reread over this fic and hit a moment that made my breath catch when I remembered what was about to happen. It's a moment that made me think, "Oh god, that's right. This is that fic!" And then my heart did a fluttery thing. Also, we've got an alive and well Sarah Rogers in this one, and the conversations Steve has with her are just as lovely and delightful as everything else about this fic.

Quote:

"I didn't realize you were trying to impress me." "Why wouldn't I be?" James says, arching an eyebrow in a way that makes Steve's stomach lurch a little. Is James flirting with him? He can feel his cheeks heating up a little. James is apparently oblivious to his internal turmoil, because he goes to his duffel and roots around. He emerges with a pack of cards. "Wanna play?" Steve doesn't know how to play poker. But James doesn't know how to play gin, so they're sort of at an impasse until Steve says, "Well…what about Go Fish?" And that's how two grown college-students end up playing Go Fish on a dusty motel bedspread, eating apple pie that tastes a little old but not terrible.

☃️Not the same river at my fingertips | giselleslash | Expicit | 11,021 words

And now the second road-trip-home-from-college-for-the-holidays (but then a snowstorm! And a motel room!) fic on my list. This one is not a random ride-share meet-cute. This one is about a Steve and Bucky who had a one-night stand years ago, and who haven't stopped thinking about each other since. But: miscommunication. So they're both pretty sure the other has never given them a second thought. But it's fine because they're both totally okay about that. They're very mature about it, okay? They can handle this road trip without any weird tension. They definitely won't make things worse by talking about the thing where they're each convinced the other doesn't like spending time with them. And the combination of the tension, the memory of their one-night stand, and the fact that they're both, actually, obsessed with each other will absolutely not lead to anything at all when they have to get a motel room to wait out a snowstorm. Not even when there is, of course, only one bed.

Quote:

“You’ve brought me a truly beautiful feast.” Bucky laughed at that and Steve instantly felt a hundred percent warmer than he had before. Even Bucky’s fucking laugh was sexy. It was horrible. Bucky had slipped off his boots and grabbed two of the plastic cups from the small tray that held them and an ice bucket. “Gimme,” he said as he waved his fingers at the bottle of tequila Steve still had clutched in his hand for some reason. He handed over the tequila and Bucky crawled onto the bed with it. He sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed and patted the mattress next to him. “Bring the food and hop on,” he said. Steve got the food containers and did just that.

Bonus:

⛄Here Comes Santa Claus | AidaRonan | Explicit | 6,755 words

So, as I've mentioned before, I hesitate to include recs for fics that are primarily smut (and very, very little plot) on these themed rec lists. Mostly because primarily smut fics are just sorta their own thing. That is a theme. But. I'm making an exception, because truly, you guys, here in Stucky we've got fics for so many scenarios. There is just fic for a seemingly endless amount of scenarios. For instance, there's this one. It's Santa Steve fic about, well, Steve, as Santa (but looking like Steve!), repeatedly visiting (an adult!) Bucky on Christmas, and it eventually leading to sex in Santa's sleigh. And, really, I've gotta say, I love that for us. I love that this fic exists. So I felt like I had to include it with these holiday recs. Even if it very much is primarily smut.

Quote:

“You’re standing under the mistletoe,” Bucky says, and Steve looks up. “Huh. How ‘bout that,” he says, before going back to his work. “What’s the rule if you’re under the mistletoe alone? Jerk off?” “Jesus, are you allowed to talk like that?” “I can talk however the fuck I want.” “Pretty harsh language from Santa Claus.” “Language is a construct like time and gender. And ‘fuck’ is really fun to say. Harsh consonants. So satisfying.” Santa slides a small gift box between branches in the tree. “Besides, no one but you is awake to hear me.”

Happy holidays!

Fic Rec Series

[circus4apsycho8]

hear me out.

movie!cole x reader

reader has always kinda liked him and then one day gets stuck while escaping from a garmadon attack, cole (as the earth ninja) comes to help her but accidentally has his identify revealed by garmadon’s workers(??)

𝚊/𝚗: 𝚒 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 :) 𝚒 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢! 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚔𝚗𝚒𝚏𝚎, 𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚍 𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎

unmasked. | movie!cole x reader

Sunshine spills over your desk as you gaze out of the window, eyes scanning the horizon splayed beyond the smudged glass as your mind ventures through all of the activities you’d be doing if you weren’t in school at the moment. 

The room is quiet, save for the muffled music emanating from someone’s headphones as the class finishes the daily journaling prompt. Your eyes quickly glance down towards your finished entry, no other words coming to mind. Instead of adding more, you elect to add a few doodles to the side of your paper. 

About a minute passes before the teacher stands, a stack of papers in her hands. “Alright, everyone! Journaling time’s over. Today, we’re going to be preparing for our first Socratic Seminar. So, please partner up! No one is allowed to work alone!” 

You sigh softly upon hearing this, watching as your classmates partner with each other. Stars, you hate this aspect of school. You probably won’t even need a partner for this! 

The chatter kicks up a notch as people start looking for partners before clearing into their respective seats. You remain at your desk, deciding just to take whoever is leftover.  

A few moments later, you spot another student apparently hating this as much as you are. Sitting diagonally from you and now facing your direction is none other than Cole Brookstone himself. His combination of long, black hair pulled into an adorably messy bun along with his spearmint-tinted eyes makes your heart skip a beat - doubly so when you realize he’s looking at you, headphones dropped around his neck. The fact that he’s wearing a muscle tank that sets those gorgeous-toned arms on display does not help. 

It’s then that you’re snapped out of your trance, heart racing even more when he nods toward you, one of his eyebrows raised. 

You get the message, briefly nodding at him with a soft smile. 

While he grabs his supplies, you take a moment to put away your journal, now replaced by your school laptop. You subtly take a deep breath, part of you in disbelief that you’re going to be partnering with your crush of several months for this assignment. 

Cole settles in beside you, dropping his belongings on the desk before relaxing into the chair.  

After he does, the teacher glances around before nodding. “Great. Okay, your assignment is to read the next three chapters of our current novella, then prepare for next week’s Socratic Seminar using quotes and notes from the chapters. I’m handing out your seminar preparation packets now - remember to read the overview! I’ll be going more in depth about the actual seminar the day of. These are going to be due on Wednesday.” 

“I hate Socratic Seminars,” Cole mutters, pausing the music on his headphones. 

“Me too,” you agree as the teacher hands you two packets, one of which you hand to Cole. You try to ignore the tingling the ignites as your fingers brush together. 

“At least it’s only three chapters. With how short they are, it won’t take long to read. I can probably finish them both up tonight.” 

“Yeah, same. I’ll make a Google Doc so we can share notes as we read,” you respond, opening your school laptop. “Does that work?” 

Cole nods, doing the same. “At least it’s only three chapters. With how short they are, I can probably finish them all tonight.” 

“I will too, then,” you note, creating a new document before spinning your laptop around so that he can add his school email. 

“In that case, would you just want to meet up after school tomorrow so we can just knock the packet out before the weekend?”’ he suggests, sliding the computer back to you. 

The proposition catches you slightly off guard, although you can’t help but acknowledge that blooming elation in your chest. 

You nod. “Yeah, let’s do that.” 

“How does the cafe right next to the school sound?” 

“That works,” you say. “I’ll meet you there, then?” 

… 

“It’s a date!” your friend shrieks over the phone. 

You roll your eyes, tossing the novella atop your nightstand. “It is not a date! I’ve told you like eight times already!” 

“Someone’s in denial! Okay, okay, fine. How about we go over the facts, hm?” 

“Oh, come on! What facts? I think you’re just making a big deal out of nothing,” you add, finishing up your nightly routine. 

“Nothing? Yeah, right. So, tell me - if it really is nothing, then why aren’t the two of you just working on it remotely via the Google Doc? That’s what everyone else is doing! You don’t have to meet in person to get this done!” 

“That doesn’t mean anything,” you interject with a shake of your head. “We just want to get it done before the weekend starts.” 

“You’re unbelievable,” mutters your friend. “But that’s fine, because you don’t have to believe it. This could be your chance!” 

You contemplate what your friend is saying for a moment before deciding to play the dumb card again. “Chance for what? It’s just homework. It’s not that deep.” 

“You’re always making goo-goo eyes at him, and I’ve noticed him looking at you too, you know. I think you guys have some good chemistry.” 

“I don’t know,” you mumble, nervousness creeping throughout your chest as you shift the grip on your phone slightly. “I…I guess I’ll just see how it goes, then.” 

“There, there we go!” cheers the voice on the other end. “Just tell me how it goes, okay?!” 

“Fine, I will!” 

“Good. Now finish reading that stupid book so you’ll be prepared. Text me, okay?” 

“I will. Thanks.” 

With a few more closing words, the two of you hang up for the night before you get started on reading the required chapters. 

… 

You don’t think you’ve ever been this nervous before. 

With each passing class, the ball of nerves embedded within your belly grows, eventually manifesting into a racing heart and sweaty palms. You swallow as the last bell of the day rings, grabbing your bag before heading out. 

As you exit the school, you find that your friend has texted you: 

good luck!! :)  

After shooting a quick reply, you make your way through the crowded sidewalk for few minutes. Once you get past the school, you will yourself to take a moment to simply breathe. 

As you inhale deeply, you tilt your head slightly up to the sun, its warm rays enveloping your skin. The air is crisp and fresh, unlike the stale atmosphere lacing your school. Finally, you’re able to calm down a bit as you approach the café, quick to enter. 

The first sound to greet you is the soft, café playlist sounding from the speakers in the ceiling, the song slightly masked by the quiet chatter of patrons. From behind the counter emanates the tearing noise of milk being steamed as baristas busy themselves with their work. 

You glance around, finding that the café isn’t as busy as you’d thought it would be. Seated in one of the booths is Cole, eyes focused on a book situated on the table. It seems different than the assigned book. He’s dressed in dark jeans and a graphic tee depicting a band that you haven’t heard of. 

You approach him, setting your backpack on the opposite side of the side. “Hey.” 

Cole glances up at you as you do so, a dimpled smile forming on his lips. “Hey.” 

“Just give me a minute to order,” you say, returning his grin as you turn towards the counter. Thankfully, there’s no line, so you’re able to place your order and pay quickly. 

Once you have your order, you sit down across from Cole before pulling your needed supplies out. 

“So...” Cole starts, pushing his current read aside and sliding his note packet out. “Quanish the Elder. Quite the character, don’t you think?” 

You chuckle lightly, sipping on your drink as you nod in agreement. “Definitely. But his stories have some merit. After all, rumor has it that he can see the future.” 

Cole shrugs. “My...grandfather always told me that he was an idiot. I guess he had his moments, though.” 

You nod, plucking the seminar prep sheet up in order to read over the questions. “Okay...so, we have to figure out what stance we’re going to take on the message he was trying to embed, right?” 

“Yeah, sounds about right. So...what do you think he was trying to say?” 

“That people are unpredictable. And sometimes stupid,” you summarize, surprising yourself at how simple the theme is. “And that’s unavoidable no matter where you go.” 

“Ironic, coming from him,” Cole mumbles, shrugging. “Yeah, that’s what I gathered too.” 

“Cool, so we I guess we can go ahead and look for quotes and examples that back our theory,” you mumble, pulling your book out. 

Cole nods in agreement as he sips his drink again. “Sounds good.” 

With that, the two of you scour the chapters for quotes. During your reading, you can’t help but sneak a few glances over at Cole. 

He’s so cute when he reads, you think, smiling softly as your eyes flick back towards the page. Your brain happily reimagines the memory of his pretty eyes scanning over the page, the way his fingers would flip the page, the callouses present on his knuckles...and not to mention his muscles. 

It takes you a minute to process that, despite reading almost an entire page, you hadn’t digested any of the words. You sigh softly, starting over again. Okay, focus! 

Thankfully, you’re able to redirect your attention to the task at hand as opposed to the handsome man sitting right across from you. Soon enough, you’re both able to finish filling out your homework for the weekend. 

“I’m so glad that’s done,” you note, shoving the papers back where they belong. “I was dreading that.” 

“Yeah, I’m relieved that we finished before the weekend,” he responds, also putting his belongings away. “Thanks, by the way. For meeting me here.” 

“Yeah, I um...I enjoyed it,” you admit softly, not sure of what else to say. An idea occurs to you when you notice his other book slipped against the wall. “Oh, what are you reading now, by the way?” 

To your delight, Cole starts telling you about the book he’s reading. And from there, the two of you end up discussing other books for a little while. 

You didn’t think he would be so well-versed in Ninjago’s literature, but he proved you wrong. Proof that you should never judge a book by its cover – especially if that cover sports muscles, graphic band t-shirts and a manbun.  

Sure enough, the two of you were there for far longer than you’d anticipated – not that you minded, though. He was fun to talk to. 

You’re about to ask him something else when his phone starts ringing. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, fumbling for his device as he shoots an apologetic glance towards you. “I need to get this.” 

You dismiss his worries with a wave of your hand. “Not a problem. I should stretch my legs for a second anyway.” 

So, you stand, deciding to browse some of the merchandise situated at the other side of the café while you wait for him to finish. 

Once he does, you make your way back over, noticing that he’s packing all of his belongings up. 

“Hey, sorry. I have to go,” he admits, snatching his book. “But...maybe we could do this again sometime? Maybe same day and time next week?” 

“I’d like that,” you reply, smiling softly as you grab your stuff, making sure all of the trash has been cleaned up. 

“Dope,” he mumbles quietly, nervously grinning. “So, I’ll see you then?” 

“You sure will,” you say, the two of you exiting the café together. 

With that, you both bid each other goodbye before heading home for the evening. When you get home, you immediately text your friend to concede defeat: 

I think you were right. We’re meeting up again next week. 

… 

The weekend, as per usual, passes in a haze much to your dismay. You hadn’t slept well, either, which normally wouldn’t be a huge issue except for one, little detail: 

You fell asleep before setting your alarm on Sunday night. 

It didn’t take you long to realize you weren’t going to make it, even going as far as not to rush your morning routine. Now, you’re walking on the sidewalk towards the school, checking the time on your phone. Yeah, there’s no way you’re going to arrive in time. Might as well grab a cup of coffee since you can’t be late twice, right? 

Decision made, you slow your pace and decide to simply enjoy the fresh air while you still can. You weren’t really looking forward to first period anyway, so why not live a little? 

The atmosphere of Ninjago City seems to be extra busy today, with citizens much like yourself bustling about. You arrive at the café in a few minutes, immediately joining the line. 

After you order, you wait for the baristas to make your drink, idly watching one of the televisions hitched up in the corner of the store. It’s stationed to one of the local news channels, the hosts of which are currently discussing local news. 

You lose interest after a few moments, electing to scroll through your phone again. 

A few seconds later, the barista calls out your name and hands you your drink. After thanking her, you take a sip and go to have a seat at one of the tables. 

About ten minutes pass as you scroll through your phone while enjoying your beverage. At some point, though, you start hearing more and more concerned murmuring among the crowd. 

You lift your head up, noticing quite a few people leaving the store. Narrowing your eyes, you shift your stare towards the TV again. 

“This just in – our scouts have spotted Garmadon and his forces approaching Ninjago City again! You know the drill – take cover wherever you can until the Secret Ninja Force can repel his assault!” 

Oh, fucking dandy. Another Garmadon attack. You stand with a groan, watching as the camera footage shifts to a shot of Garmadon’s giant shark mech breaching the coast. Again. Fantastic, that’s not too far from where you’re at, which means you probably won’t be able to make it back home in time. That means your best shot is figuring out where the nearest public shelter is. 

You shift your attention towards the street, noticing that people are already starting to panic. 

After making your way out of the shop, you realize that your time is shorter than you initially thought. You can already feel the vibrations of the mech’s footsteps within the ground, and people are starting to panic even more. 

You feel your heartbeat increase as someone yells out from the street behind you. Upon turning, you feel the beginnings of an adrenaline rush as an all-too-familiar group of Garmadon goons flood the streets. 

As your breathing speeds up, you make a split-second decision to cut through an alley between two buildings – a route that you know will lead you to a back road that fewer people know about. You jog towards it, cautiously making your way through. 

Thankfully, it’s clear, leading you to the road. You continue following it, making sure to keep your head on a swivel. 

It’s eerily quiet, save for the small vibrations. In the distance, you can hear people yelling. You pass a few people on the way, but not too many. 

You manage to make it within a few minutes of home – from here, it’s just a walk past a skyscraper, then a few turns and you’re there. 

Your gaze shifts up to the skyscraper you need to walk by, and for some reason, a horrid feeling courses through your stomach. You stop in your tracks, hairs standing on end as you glance around. 

Your home...it’s not far, and yet... 

Your unease pays off, because seconds later, a deafening shattering noise sends you scrambling for cover. Something crashes through the skyscraper you would have been standing in front of had you not stopped when you did. You run back towards a nearby alley, trying to get away from the action. 

As you turn, however, you find that a few of Garmadon’s soldiers are blocking your path, along with a few smaller mechs controlled by some of the higher-level goons. 

You turn back around, spotting the mech you saw on TV emerge from the debris of the skyscraper, your eyes widen as you notice the remains of the building swaying unsteadily for a moment before toppling over – right in your direction. 

A scream becomes stuck in your throat as you try to run from the falling debris, but before you can, a pair of hands roughly pushes you backwards. You yell out, falling onto the pavement. 

The breath is knocked out of your lungs, leaving you gasping. Your mind is spinning, part of you trying to get your ass in gear while the other part of you is trying to suck a breath in. With both warring thoughts in your mind, combined with the sight of the falling debris... 

...you freeze. 

Breath hitched in your lungs, you can only watch as the debris tumbles down towards you. 

You close your eyes, waiting for an impact as tears prick the corners of your eyes. 

But...it doesn’t come. 

After slowly opening your eyes, you realize that something else is towering over you. Your breath finally returns, allowing you to sit up. 

Above you is another mech – this one familiar. You recognize it as one of the mechs used by the Secret Ninja Force. Relief courses through you as the mech hovers over you, blocking the debris with its fists. It’s the Black Ninja’s mech. 

Three other mechs appear – the Red Ninja leaps into action by driving back Garmadon’s mech using its momentum and surprise. Second to appear is the Green Ninja’s mechanical dragon, aiding Red in his assault against Garmadon. Finally, the Gray Ninja’s water strider leaps out of a nearby river, one of its legs sweeping out against the row of smaller mechs, effectively sending them flying backwards. 

With that, she leaps back in the water, the mech swimming away. Green and Red manage to drive Garmadon’s mech out of sight, while Black’s mech seemingly spots the various enemies around you. 

You decide it’s best to get away from the giant robot that’s about to start fighting, so you scramble out of its way, eyes scanning the area for cover. To your dismay, more of Garmadon’s troops have arrived, and have surrounded you. 

“Fuck,” you curse, wondering what the best course of action could be. There’s no cover for you to take, so your best hope of not getting squished like a bug is to hope that Black sees you. 

“General, do it now!” an enemy shouts. You notice one of them holding some strange device – a gun, maybe? A big one, if it is. They aim it towards Black’s mech, and in a matter of seconds, it launches a blue ball of energy towards the mech. You gasp as blue waves pulse across its structure before sending it crashing to the ground. 

Was that an electromagnetic pulse?! you wonder, eyes widening as the mech fails to get up. 

Then, a pair of arms jerks you backwards by the shoulder, another arm coming in front of you. You struggle, screaming out as something sharp is pressed against your neck. 

“Easy, beautiful,” a scratchy voice taunts. “No use struggling unless you want your throat slit.” 

"Let me go!” you demand as the grip on you grows tighter. Fingers dig into your skin, the blade now poking into your neck. 

“That’s up to our little ninja friend,” he responds. You watch as a figure emerges from the cockpit, heart racing. 

“I’d like to see what he’s capable of without his big robot,” another soldier taunts as Black slowly makes his way towards you. You try not to let your fear show, but you can tell it’s not working. His eyes glance at you, studying you for a moment. 

“Let her go,” he states calmly, raising his hands. 

“Nope,” replies the man holding you. “We want something. If we strike a deal, maybe then we can think about releasing her.” 

“Okay,” Black assures, stepping forward slowly. “Let’s talk.” 

“That’s more like it. Okay, here’s what we want. We want you,” he states simply. 

“You want to capture me?” Black clarifies. 

“Yes. You’re going to be good leverage to use against Green. Not to mention that when Garmadon finds out that we captured a ninja, we’ll get a promotion for sure!” 

“What do you mean by leverage?” asks Black. You get the feeling that whoever’s holding you hostage isn’t the brightest, and that Black is just scrounging for time however he can. He must have some kind of plan. 

“Isn’t it obvious? To get your damned team to back down and surrender control to Garmadon!” 

Black doesn’t answer for a moment, seemingly going over his options. You notice that his eyes keep flicking towards a direction behind you ever so often, but the enemy doesn’t seem to realize this. He must be waiting for backup. 

“So, what’ll it be?” 

“I’ll come willingly. Just...let her go.” 

“Come over here.” 

Another goon steps forward, holding out a pair of handcuffs. You bite your lip as Black takes a few steps forward, heart pounding. 

Then, you hear something: the guy behind you grunts, dropping his knife arm. A split second is all it takes for you to realize that this is your chance. You immediately run forward, making your way behind Black before turning around to face your attacker. 

You see a bunch of men...convulsing, maybe? But not all of them – a portion of them are watching their fallen allies in shock. You’re stuck wondering what happened until a blue aircraft zips overhead. 

“Thanks, Blue,” Black mutters before turning to you. “Hey, you need to go.” 

You don’t reply, watching as he goes to defend against a few goons who have recovered enough to rush him. 

For some reason, you’re rooted in place. You know you’re free, and that you can run, but...something prompts you to stay. 

Black seems to be holding his own despite the fact that he’s outnumbered. However, the situation changes when someone manages to trip him up, another goon taking advantage of the opening by tackling Black. 

They’re quick to pin his limbs down, with another man circling the restrained ninja with a dark chuckle. “You were a fool to think you could take us on all by yourself!” 

Black doesn’t reply – just keeps his cool. 

“How about we take a look at who we’re really dealing with, hm?” the villain taunts. “Take his mask off!” 

Oh, stars. You have to do something! 

You glance around, realizing that this could be your only opportunity since they’re preoccupied with Black’s true identity. Thankfully, the debris around you provides plenty of impromptu weapons – one of which is a chunk of concrete that seems heavy enough to do some damage, but light enough for you to throw. Perfect. 

You grab it, hoisting it up before aiming it at one of the men holding Black’s arms down. With a grunt, you throw it as hard as you can. 

The concrete sails through the area before smacking the intended man in the shoulder, effectively causing him to let go of Black’s arm. It's not much, but it’s enough for Black to strike the man holding his other arm. 

“You fucking bitch!” the injured man yells, gripping his injured shoulder. “Get her!” 

Thankfully, though, Black manages to take the rest of the men out. You sigh in relief, realizing that you’re starting to crash from that lovely adrenaline rush. 

“Are you okay?” you ask, shifting your gaze to Black. 

And you pause, eyes widening as you remember that he’s unmasked. 

But...you know this face. 

“Cole?” you wonder. “You’re the...?” 

“Um...yeah. Yeah, I am,” he mumbles, smiling smally as he bends over to pick his mask up. “Guess my cover’s blown, huh?” 

You’re not really sure what to say, so you avert your gaze as he pulls the article over his head. With your thoughts racing, you have a hard time making sense of all that’s happened. 

Cole...so it’s been him all along. And his other friends...the numbers and personalities certainly match up. They must make up the rest of the Secret Ninja Force. 

He studies you for a moment, walking up to you slowly. “You’re not hurt, are you?” 

“N-No, I’m fine,” you reply. “Um...for what it’s worth, I won’t tell anyone.” 

“I’m sorry about all this,” he says, pausing. “You should find shelter. I know that the public ones are probably locked by now, but there might something else nearby.” 

“My home isn’t far. I’ll just head there,” you note. 

“I’ll come with you. The main streets are crawling with Garmadon’s army, and my mech isn’t much use now anyway,” he replies. “Lead the way.” 

“Thank you,” you mumble, starting to walk towards your home. 

With that, the two of you quietly make your way through the city, most of the goons having made their way to other points of the city by now. This part of the city has gone eerily quiet, leaving you and Cole to trek through the streets in a strange silence. 

“Are you doing okay?” Cole wonders. “I’m sorry that he...” 

“It’s not your fault,” you assure, smiling sadly. “And...I’m just a little shaken, I think, but I'll survive.” 

“...And you’re taking the news of my identity better than I thought, too,” he admits. 

“I mean...I can’t really complain, can I? You saved me. Yeah, it’s...kind of weird to think that you’re actually a ninja, but...it’s not as surprising as I initially thought. Maybe because I might have hit my head. Or because I’m in shock, or...something. I don’t know.” 

He nods in agreement. “Yeah, and I guess I owe you thanks too.” 

“Why?” 

“For stepping in when you did,” he adds. “I don’t think I would have been able to escape them if you hadn’t given me an opening.” 

You smirk, turning to glance at him. “Even ninjas need saving sometimes too, huh?” 

“Unfortunately, yes.” 

That makes you giggle as the two of you finally approach your home, with you turning towards Cole. 

“Thank you again,” you mumble, smiling at him. 

“Not a problem,” Cole answers. “Are we still on for next week, by the way?” 

“We sure are,” you add, stepping closer to him.  

You can feel him freeze slightly, especially when your hands come up to lift his mask slightly. A wave of confidence slips over you as you press a soft kiss to his cheek, stepping away after you pull it back down. 

“Thank you again, Cole.”

𝚊/𝚗: 𝚒 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍! 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚘 𝚒 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚔𝚊𝚢. 𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚓𝚊𝚐𝚘 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗; 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘!

[hyprfixate]

soul vine ↝ [L.M.] :: part one

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: when you decide to get an ear piercing as part of your transition to adulthood, you expect a lot of things, like the pain and the high price tag. what you don’t expect, however, is finding out you’re soul-bound to the angry blonde from the parlor. or that you’re technically not human.

but hey. adulthood, right?

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ pairing: lee minho x she/her reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ chapter word count: 4.3k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ chapter warnings: mentions of needles, only for piercing purposes

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ tags: magic au, grumpy minho, fantasy, medium burn, strangers to enemies to friends to lovers, soulmate au (will add more as i think about it)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ author’s note: hope you guys enjoy this chapter! i wanted to preface and say, if you feel like you’ve read something similar to this before: do not panic, i am not stealing lmao. this is an old BTS fic of mine that i’ve reworked to become a SKZ fic. fret not lovelies.

also please ignore formatting mistakes <3

part one - part two - part three - part four

Just at the end of the block was the last thing standing before you and adulthood. Tatt and Body Works Piercing Parlor had been in your sights for weeks now, and today was finally the day that you would start your journey into real adulthood. Not only because it was your birthday, but because you were about to do something your mother would never let you do.

Pausing outside a dark storefront, you peered at your reflection and wondered if you really looked your age.

You knew you probably didn’t, that the high ponytail and bright pink headband probably set you back a couple years, but you hoped it wasn’t enough to get turned away at the door. What was the point in walking all the way here for them to just send you home?

After a few more steps, you reached the large black awning, standing idly outside the door for a second. You chewed on your bottom lip with more vigor than intended, as you shifted from foot to foot in front of the piercing parlor. It looked empty, with vibrant LED lights reflecting off the sparkling floor. There was no one at the front desk, no one standing anywhere nearby to greet you. The cold emptiness of it all made you want to turn around and go home. You glanced back in the direction you came from and noticed the slight uphill trek you’d be subjected to.

Alright. Whatever.

With a sigh you pushed open the door, the overhead bell jingling to alert those inside to your arrival, wherever they may be. The front desk was still empty, save for a hefty amount of papers scattered around haphazardly. There was no little bell to ding for service, and you couldn't see any rooms anywhere to call for someone to assist you. Just a dark wall lined with pictures, posters, and various quotes.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting when you decided to go to a body works shop, but something about the atmosphere of the store felt off. Not in a scary way, but almost the complete opposite. It felt comforting and homely, despite its emptiness.

You took it upon yourself to find a seat to wait for assistance. There were three chairs off to the far left of the room, one of which was positioned under a large bulletin board with photos stuck to it. Looking around once more to make sure you didn’t overlook a person in the dim light, you walked over to sit.

As you sat at the edge of the couch, you peered up at the bulletin board to pass the time. There were various pictures of models showcasing tattoos that the parlor had done. They were all extremely intricate, it was obvious they were made with precision and all the attention one could sacrifice. You enjoyed looking at the art, and though you weren’t ready for a tattoo just yet, you could still admire the craftsmanship.

Off to the corner of the board, a rather small picture of an earring caught your eye. It was industrial style, spanning from the inner corner of the model's ear to the outer, curving and wrapping around like it was made for their ear. Upon tilting your head, you noticed it was shaped like a key. The head crested above the ear in the shape of a heart (sort of), and the blade weaved in and over the shell of the ear shell perfectly.

It was a beautiful piercing, to say the least.

Something about the earring looked familiar, like images of a dream from childhood that began to blur around the edges. You searched deep within yourself to find a piece of memory to hold on to, to see if you could figure out what it meant, but you came up short. You were so focused on the photo that you didn’t hear footsteps making their way into the lobby and taking their place at the desk behind you.

"Hey! I’m so sorry for the wait, how can I help you?"

You whipped around to see a heavily tatted, and equally heavily pierced man now perched on the edge of the front desk. His uneven brown hair was parted on the side, framing his face perfectly like drips of brown candle wax down his face. He smiled at you, a warm and inviting smile enveloped by thick, plump lips. Silver balls adorned his dimples as he waited for you to speak.

"Uh, hi," you stuttered out. You tried to shake the dreamy feeling away from your head. "I, um. I came for a piercing."

The man in front of you raised a single eyebrow, his expression a mix of confusion and surprise. At this expression, you felt panic rise in your chest.

“You guys… you do piercings right?”

He blinked before nodding quickly. “Yes! Sorry, yes we do. We usually get more requests for tattoos so I was a bit surprised.”

He shuffled around some papers on his desk as he continued to speak. “The guy who does lobe piercings isn’t in today. I know it seems like something anyone can do, but I swear Felix must possess a talent none of us can achieve. I can schedule you for tomorrow maybe, if that works?”

“I actually wanted an industrial piercing.”

"Industrial, huh..." The man muttered. “But you don’t even have lobe piercings…”

He stared at you as you stood in front of him, a bit perturbed to say the least. With a final shrug, he nodded. "Okay, that works. We have a guy who can do that. If you step over here we can pick out the bar that’ll get put in afterwards.” He rummaged around on the desk, his eyebrows knitting together. “If I can even find the stupid book.”

Your mouth moved faster than your brain, and before you knew it you heard your voice in the empty space around you. "Can I have the key?"

The brunette paused his actions, confusion shrouding his features. "The...key?" He asked. At least you assumed it was a question, it sounded more like a statement of disbelief.

At his confusion, you pointed behind yourself at the small picture in the corner of the board. The man at the front desk squinted to see the picture you were referring to. Once his eyes settled, he pursed his lips, and an untraceable emotion flitted past his dark brown eyes. He blinked harder than normal before speaking.

"That's, um, that’s not—"

His eyes flickered back to yours, and you could tell he was thinking about how to turn you down gently. However, at your disappointed face, he quickly cleared his throat, whatever he was planning on saying dying in his throat.

"I mean, that’s not a problem at all. Yup, we can do that for you. Definitely.”

He cracked the fingers on his hands as he continued to stare at the photo. After realizing the silence turned awkward, he quickly shook his head and tried to gather his thoughts. Once he recovered, he ran his fingers through his hair and smiled. “I'm Chan, by the way. I probably should've introduced myself first."

"Nice to meet you," you said back. His eyes sparkled as he held your gaze for a moment, before dropping it to sift through papers on the counter in front of him once again.

"This is gonna seem like a dumb question but, you’re at least 18 right?"

You nodded, the image of your outfit skittering across your memory like a rat. You internally cringed, sneaking a hand up to yank the headband off of your head. You stuffed it into your pocket with a mental note to throw it away later.

Chan grinned happily as he found the form he was looking for. His lip ring gleamed in the bright lights of the parlor waiting room, and he clapped his hands together. "Perfect. I'll take you to the back room, I think Minho would love to work on this for you."

He motioned for you to follow him through thick black curtains that led into another, larger room. You blinked in surprise as you stepped through the threshold. How did you not notice the black space in the wall was a curtain? It seemed like someone had started a paint job and abandoned it, not a three dimensional object. You looked back at it quizzically, watching the curtain flap back into place and remain motionless.

The two of you passed a few rooms with open doors where a couple people were scattered about. One room in particular held a red haired man working gingerly on the abs of another, the whir of a tattoo gun covering any and all conversation they could be having. The red head looked up and caught your eye for a brief second before going back to his work.

"We're here."

Here was the biggest door in the area, and notably the only closed one. Chan raised a gloved finger to his lips before knocking gingerly on the metal of the door.

Surprising to both of you, the door remained shut with no sign of life on the other side. Something in the air electrified, and you felt all the hair on your body stand at attention. The air felt thick, almost like the air before a thunderstorm. Anxiety boiled in your gut as you stared wearily at Chan. The cheerful smile on his face faltered as he stared at the unmoving door, but he cleared his throat and tried again.

"Lino," he called, the nickname a small attempt of lessening the intensity of the air. "I have someone here who needs a piercing done."

After another anxiety filled beat of silence, the door creaked open to reveal thin, catlike eyes. The eyes shifted from Chan to you and back again, and for a second you thought you wouldn't be getting your piercing done. But, thankfully, the owner of the eyes opened the door and allowed you both to step through.

Once you were both in the room, you found yourself standing between Chan and who you assumed was Minho. The latter had a scowl that could pierce glass, though it wasn’t directed at anyone in particular. The tension that enveloped you outside the door was no weaker here. You felt like you were choking on the air around you, and it nearly caused tears to pool in your eyes.

You noticed Chan’s gaze lingering on you for a moment, before he nudged Minho with his foot. The taller of the two glanced up, and they had a wordless conversation before you felt the air around you relax.

Odd.

"This is Minho," Chan spoke up after a moment. His happy tone seemed extremely inappropriate for both the general ambiance of the shop and the thick tension that once coated the room. You felt extremely out of place here, not only because of your clean and un-pierced skin, but there was a hint of something in the air that you couldn’t place, almost like Minho did not want you there.

The man in question had platinum blond hair that was a stark contrast to his dark, shifting eyes. His small lips were etched in a permanent pout that seemed to curve deeper with every passing second. He licked his lips, and you could see the black ball of a snake eye dart in and out his mouth.

“That’s my name,” he said lowly in response to Chan. “What do you want?”

"Oh I don’t want anything,” He chuckled. He turned his attention towards you and continued talking. “Minho here is the maker of the earring you were interested in. He’ll be doing your piercing."

At this, Minho quirked an eyebrow up. His slow drawl sharpened to a sarcastic blade. "Come again?"

Chan shrugged simply. "She picked your key, Lino."

You noticed Minho had piercings of his own: an industrial, a double lip ring, a septum, the tongue piercing, and of course, simple lobe piercings. But, his industrial piercing was a simple bar. If Minho made the key, wouldn't he want to wear it?

The taller man scoffed, his pout turning into a full blown scowl. He threw the cloth in his hands down on the chair in front of him and shook his head. "The nose ring? Nope, that’s Jeongin’s department. He should be finishing up with his client soon.”

Chan said nothing, just stared.

A dozen emotions flickered through Minho’s eyes before he settled on disgust and anger. “Wait. Chan, you can’t possibly be talking about—” He cut himself off, raising his eyebrows as a completion of his sentence.

Chan nodded.

Minho scoffed. “I’m not making that earring, Chan. No way.”

Your heart plummeted from its cavity as you looked to Chan for answers. The brunette met your eyes, and he rolled his own playfully, signaling for you to pay no mind to the other man's attitude. Minho caught this, of course, and his frown deepened.

“Chan I told you a million times, I was never making that earring again. I didn’t even know the stupid picture was up on that board.”

“Oh, come on Minho.”

“That piercing is nothing but trouble and so are the people who want it.”

You blinked, confused and a little offended.

“I don’t think she’s one of those people.”

Minho whipped around, his dark eyes boring into yours. You widened your own eyes, face flushing as you quickly averted your gaze.

"Come on, Lino. You’re the only one who can make that piercing happen, and she really wants it.”

“Well, I don’t really hav—”

Your words died in your throat as Chan put a single finger to his lips to silence you. The dynamic of the room shifted, and all of the power and command attached itself to Chan. Minho seemed to notice the shift as well and he shrunk into himself.

He sighed, his pout twisting until his lips were pursed in thought. "But Chan…."

"Um.” You found your voice again. “Should I have picked another design? It's okay, really."

"No," Chan said, his voice more firm than before. "Minho will do it for you."

Minho opened his mouth to argue, but closed it forcefully under the other man’s red hot glare. He looked like he wanted to say something, or a lot of things, to his counterpart. But something about his glare kept Minho quiet.

Chan’s final input seemed to knock the final brick of Minho's tower over, and the blond haired man let a sigh rip through his chest. "Fine. I’ll do it."

The cheerful attitude returned to Chan as he clapped, the abrupt change in the atmosphere almost giving you whiplash. You felt mildly dizzy as the brunette stepped quickly towards the door, the face splitting smile back where it belonged.

"Thanks, Min! I'll go fill out the paperwork, you can get started.”

He turned to you with a soft smile, lowering his voice so only you could hear. "Don't let this grump get you down. He's really sweet under his mean ol' face."

You weren’t sure how much of that you believed, but you nodded anyway. Chan shot you a wink, and with one final glance at Minho, he stepped out of the room.

You were too anxious to turn around, but you could feel the blonde’s eyes digging holes into the back of your skull. You swallowed thickly and prayed to every higher power that the appointment would go quickly.

Minho let out an exhausted sounding sigh and started moving around the room. When you gained the courage to turn around, he motioned vaguely for you to take a seat in the large chair in the middle of the room and turned his back to you, pulling out a thick strip of metal and a pair of pliers from a drawer and beginning to work on the design.

He paused for a second, barely glancing over his shoulder. “I have to make the earring from scratch, since the one in the picture is the only one that currently exists. Just sit, I’ll be done soon.”

After that, nothing.

The silence was deafening. Every breath in the room echoed and radiated off the walls and bounced right back on your ears. The man was no help, working silently with his back hunched over his work protectively. There was no room to peek, no room to ask questions. After opening and closing every app on your phone for 10 minutes, you fiddled with the flaps of your jacket as a means to occupy yourself. You willed yourself to stay quiet, but your curiosity was sparking with each passing second.

His words from earlier worked their way back into your brain.

“That earring is nothing but trouble and so are the people who want it.”

What did that mean?

Part of you worried that you were in over your head. You hadn’t done a very good job of researching when you were looking for a place to pierce your ear, besides a customary search on google maps to make sure the shop actually existed. You started to worry that maybe the shop was a front for some kind of deadly mafia, or illegal trafficking ring.

You shook that thought out of your head. You were being ridiculous. That type of stuff was reserved for TV dramas and the fanfiction you read at night.

An agonizing 5 minutes later, Minho put his pliers down for good. He wiped his hands with hand sanitizer before spinning around in his chair to look at you. The scowl was no longer present on his face— in fact, his features as a whole softened. He looked at you and tilted his head quizzically, like he was studying a painting.

“You ever got a piercing before?”

At your head shake, he let out a dry laugh. “Why am I not surprised.”

The drawer next to his workspace opened to reveal an array of needles and various other piercing equipment. A cold chill ran down your spine at the looks of the needle sizes. Minho, noticing your apprehension, rolled his eyes and sighed. “I’m not a jackass, so I’m going to pierce your ear with a needle, not the gun, and then feed the earring through. Okay?”

You didn’t really know if she could say no to that. He was a professional after all. You nodded anyway, watching as he prepped his station.

He rolled his chair over to where you sat, dragging along a small metal tray table with him. The earring sat in all its glory on a cotton swab doused with rubbing alcohol. On the tray, it didn’t look much like a key— it didn’t look much like anything really. Sort of like an abstract painting. you wondered if maybe it was an optical illusion.

Minho followed your confused gaze to the earring and kissed his teeth. “It's not going to look like… a key yet,” he muttered. “It has to be in your ear first.”

His features may have relaxed, but his tone was harsh. A part of you wanted to shut up and let him do what he needed, but Chan’s voice rang in the back of your mind.

‘Don’t let him intimidate you.’

You’re an adult, for goodness sake, and Minho couldn’t be that much older than you. You counted to 10 in your head to give yourself the courage to say something.

“Does no one else think it looks like a key?” you piped curiously. “Chan didn’t know what I was talking about until he saw the picture, and you seem like that wasn’t what you wanted it to be.”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “It's whatever you want it to be. Some people think it's a heartbeat, some people think it’s just a squiggle. You think it's a key, and that’s fine.”

He wiped a needle down with an alcohol pad. “Well. I hope you have a high pain tolerance. Industrials hurt.”

“Um…”

Minho rolled his eyes. “Never mind.”

He scooted his chair closer and discarded the soaked cotton ball. He pulled a marker from behind his ear and marked two dots where the earring would go through.

“Alright, take a deep breath in for me,” He muttered, his face dangerously close to yours. You followed his directions, and on his command you let the breath out. Immediately you felt the sharp sting from the needle, and you gripped the arm of the chair with force.

“Fuck,” You hissed, arching off the chair in pain.

“That wasn’t so bad,” He muttered. “Besides, that was only the outter corner. I still have to pierce the inside.”

“Of course you do,” you muttered.

The traces of a smile pulled up on the corners of Minho’s mouth, but just as quickly as they appeared, they disappeared. He wiped down the next needle and adjusted his chair so he could reach his target.

“Alright, same process. Deep breath in.”

You sucked in a breath.

“And--”

The door to Minho’s workspace slammed open, and an unfamiliar face stood in the doorway. The sound caught both of you by surprise, and the needle went through your ear before you could prepare. You hissed out in pain and slapped Minho’s hand away. Minho himself seemed terrified, but soon his eyes settled and he recognized the face at the door.

“Fucking-- what Hyunjin?”

The man at the door, Hyunjin apparently, had the same crown of red hair you saw on your way to Minho’s studio. Just like the two men you met previously, he was adorned from head to toe in tattoos. Under the bang of his hair was a shiny silver eyebrow piercing. His plump and full lips were slightly agape, staring at you two with quick, shifty eyes.

“Sorry, Min,” he said sheepishly. “I didn’t know you had a client. Chan told me someone was getting the… what is it?”

“A key,” The blond muttered.

“Right. A key…”

Your eyes shifted between the two men, who seemed to be communicating wordlessly like Chan and Minho did before.

What is with these guys?

“Am I missing something here?”

Hyunjin broke from his staring match with Minho and smiled at you in the chair. “Oh! Sorry, I’m Hyunjin,” he grinned. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you here before. Or in any of the local shops. Are you new in town?”

“Oh no, this is just my first piercing.”

Hyunjin’s eyes were soft and kind, and you felt yourself drawn to them inexplicably. He radiated comforting energy, and for the first time since you stepped into the shop, you could feel your body relax.

“First piercing, huh?” His smile turned teasing. “And you didn’t go for a lobe piercing?”

Behind you, Minho broke away from the distraction of the conversation and remembered his task at hand. He let out an annoyed hum and went back to work, grabbing the earring from the tray and preparing to feed it through the holes he just made.

“I wanted something a little more rebellious than a lobe piercing.”

Hyunjin’s smile turned into a full smirk “Of course,” he teased. “An industrial piercing, the most rebellious of all. Next on your bucket list must be jaywalking, huh?”

You returned his teasing smile. “Oh, for sure. And after that I’m going straight to littering.”

Laughing gently, the redhead found an empty portion of the counter and lifted himself up, scooting closer to your spot in the leather chair. “So, what made you pick Minho’s earring?”

You thought back to the dreamy feeling you got in your head upon seeing the picture. It seemed to call out to you silently, but you didn’t know how to say that without sounding like a lunatic. Instead, you shrugged lightly, jostling Minho’s hands as he worked on your ear.

“Keep still,” he hissed.

Hyunjin chuckled. “I wish I knew how to do ear piercings. You wouldn’t have to suffer with the grump here.”

“Can everyone stop calling me grumpy?” Minho slammed a hand down on his tray. “I am not grumpy because I’m 24 years old and not a toddler. Excuse me if I’m in a bad mood once in a while.”

Hyunjin’s sparkling eyes held an air of amusement. “S’okay Min,” he smiled. “You’re grumpy. It’s okay to be grumpy.”

Flipping Hyunjin off, Minho huffed and pushed away from you, reaching for the cloth on the metal tray. “Done,” he grumbled.

The redhead hopped off the counter and made his way over to your side, peering curiously at your ear. His brown eyes widened in surprise, a smile curling on the corners of his lips.

“Well done, Minho,” he grinned. “It looks even better than the picture.”

The man in question was too busy putting together a care kit to acknowledge the compliment. Absentmindedly, he thrust a hand mirror in the direction of the pair of you, mumbling something about checking it out. Hyunjin grabbed the mirror and handed it to you, smiling cutely as he cupped his chin in his hands. “Take a look.”

You lifted the mirror to your ear, turning your head to examine the new addition to your appearance. It really did look like a key now that it was in your ear. As you moved your head around to examine it, you noticed that its shadow held a peculiar shape to it as well.

You lifted the mirror higher to let the light hit the perfect spot. The shadow of the earring sort of looked like letters. You squinted carefully and shifted the light around to put the letters together to form a word.

M. I. N. H. O.

Minho.

As quickly as the name processed in your brain, the metal of the earring started to burn red-hot, and the mirror fell from your hands and shattered on the ground.