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silkenwinger · 11 days ago

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cherry

mdni. one sided enemies to lovers (?) konig x reader. 5k something. part two here

You wish he would just disappear. That some way or another, you could get him out of your hair. Sure, there’s always leaving your job, but that’s not really convenient, is it.

You wish he was outright antagonistic, mean or just an asshole. Someone who abuses his power over underlings. A self centered idiot who can only think with his dick, who gets other people in danger for his pride.

Yet he’s none of that, and you have to cope with it. Which you are unable to do.

“This fucking thing— ugh!” Snarls Roze, still trying to set up the new tent as shown in the diagram. It falls over with a soft thump and she kicks it again.

“These have to be the wrong instructions,” you tell her, turning around the leaflet. You’ve been at it for more than half an hour now, and they usually don’t take this long. Still, better the dryness of the desert to find out there’s been a manufacturing mishap than pouring rain. KorTac has deployed you here before, which is why you know you can’t just wing it and sleep outside. The night chill is unbearable.

“C’mon. Let me try,” says Horangi, holding out an arm. For all his male pride, he comes to the same conclusion as you and Roze. You’re collectively scratching your heads when a shadow falls over you.

“What is the issue?” König asks, hands on his hips and sun behind him, like some sort of Superman figure. Ugh.

“It’s not setting up.”

“Let me see.” He grabs the leaflet from Horangi’s hands, looks at it for fifteen long seconds, returns it to him and crouches down to pick at the tent. It’s odd, seeing such a big man working on something small. Comical, you’d say.

He sets it up in seven minutes (timed), but admits the instructions could be clearer and less misleading. He rises up and claps his hands on his thighs.

“I used to do a lot of camping, ah-ha,” he says, thumbing at his stupid hood.

“Well, thank you König. We would be sleeping outside without you,” says Roze.

“Yeah man, thanks,” Horangi adds.

You can feel his eyes on you. Those blue eyes, always in such weird expressions. Maybe you would read him more easily if he didn’t have the mask. You don’t care anyway. You muster a little smile so you don’t read as completely sociopathic to the whole group, and he seems happy enough. But you’re not satisfied with him being the hero of the night.

“Camping, uh? Wasn’t it hard, with your height and all?” It’s meant to be a jab to his clear struggles with his size. Something that only really shows outside of the battlefield, you have to admit.

“No, not really. Eh, my parents are tall as well, we would always buy big tents. With friends… a bit. I slept outside once.” His voice is shy revealing this. From previous conversations, you know he wasn’t the most sociable boy in his school. Neither were you but you didn’t end up wearing odd masks.

The normal reaction would be to commiserate him, coddle him for the harsh events of his youth. You’re incapable of that.

“Must have been a pretty clear cut decision from all the others.”

You can feel the side-eye from Roze and Horangi through your head.

“Ahah, yes it was… I was taking two whole spaces for myself…” he says, sounding a bit sad and lost in memories.

“That’s not going to happen now, this is pretty roomy,” interrupts Horangi, and your session of tormenting your team leader is abruptly brought to an end. Pity, but maybe it’s better to keep this a little more private.

“Dibs on the first watch!” Roze yells, and you groan. She always gets it before anyone else!

König, Horangi and you play rock scissor paper to decide the other turn. You lose first and you pout slightly: you hate second watch more than anything. Shaking it off, you start to head to the side, but you're stopped by an arm in front of you.

“We can switch. If you want,” says König, who got the third watch. You crook an eyebrow at him. Does he think you're unprofessional, that you can't even do your job? The fucking gall.

“No thanks. I don’t need handouts,” you turn your nose up. Horangi scoffs, which makes you turn to glare at him. König has no real reaction, just murmurs something between himself. This time you really leave.

Hour later, peaking your head out of the tent door, you shiver at the difference in temperature. You hate missions without safe houses…

“Ah, nice. Slept well?” Greets Roze when she sees you. You shake your head.

“More of a nap than a night’s rest,” you sigh as you turn to sit down next to her. You suppose she’s not really sleepy, but anyway, you enjoy her company.

“Hey,” she calls your name. You hum to show her you’re paying attention.

“You know I respect you. You’re a great fighter,” you preen at that, “but what is up with that?” Your face falls at that.

“What are you talking about?”

“You and König, c’mon. You’re bullying the guy! And I’m always in favor of mistreating men, but then he doesn’t fight back at all, and it’s just pathetic to watch. What even is the satisfaction in that?” She sounds genuinely baffled. Panic rises in you: you never actually thought you’d get cornered like this.

“He irks me, okay?” You try to justify yourself as you shift in your seat. You haven’t really interrogated much on why you feel this way. You figured it was just a normal reaction to König himself, and everyone was just better at hiding it.

“Irks you… yeah, he isn’t the smoothest guy or anything, but you’d think he was Satan the way you describe him. He really just fights, eats, sleeps and talks with you and Horangi.” She sits with that for a moment and just looks at you, really looks at you. “Maybe you’ve got something going on, I think he’s quite fond of you actually.”

“Fond of me… Roze, what the fuck are you going on about?” You exclaim, on edge. It’s far too late (or early?) to really express yourself in any way that makes sense. “He probably feels the same way I do about him, which is annoyance. He can’t be that thick not to realize I’m being antagonistic.”

“Hmm, if you say so.” She gets up and pats your shoulder, tiredness showing up in her limbs. “It’s not really my business. See you tomorrow,” she waves as she enters the tent, dismissively. It’s like she saw you being too defensive and thought you were a lost cause…

Your watch is uneventful and boring and cold and you can’t stop thinking about what Roze told you. Recounting your experiences with König, you think back to the first time you met. It stings to say it, but you’d felt intimidated, shaking the hand of a man almost feet taller than you, clad in an executioner hood. His hand was a bit cold and clammy, which was in contrast with his appearance. The way he shook your hand was unusual too. Men in the military are quick to establish dominance– the sadistic ones grip women’s hands so hard, it almost feels like they’re trying to strangle them. König’s handshake was delicate, and his eyes were oddly wide. Far from what imagination could conjure about his figure.

Starting from when you were put under his command, you’d seen König make an ass out of himself pretty often. Never on the battlefield– he was akin to a god on there, his strides decisive, his bullets accurate, and his violence lavish. For that alone you’d never send in a request to change teams: you know what you leave but you don’t know what you’re going to find. The issues with König lay in that creepy high pitched tone of voice he has sometimes while narrating stories, or the way he appears to have zero space awareness while moving around base. You witnessed him hitting his head or side on door frames far too many times for comfort. In some ways, it kinda killed the respect you could have for him as a leader. But then you’d watch him clear a room in a few bloody seconds, and you’d have to give it to him again. Unfortunately. But it’s now apparent that you can’t cling to any justification that will make sense to other people without you sounding completely out of your mind or like a bitch. Which you can be.

Checking your watch, it’s indeed time to go back to sleep. König hasn’t shown up by himself, the oaf, so you need to go wake him up. Ugh…

Crouching, you enter the tent. Horangi is still snoring away, thankfully not too loudly. You get on your knees to move more quietly and crawl your way to the horizontal column on the back. It’s hard to see well in the darkness, but König feels oddly still in his cot. You’d think he trashed around in his sleep like he does when awake.

Once you reach him, you touch his shoulder, murmuring his callsign not too loudly. No reaction. You do it again, this time a bit stronger, and he still doesn’t wake up beside grumbling some incomprehensible gibberish. Already irritated, you grab him by both shoulders and shake him alright. You realize you’ve made a mistake only when your arms are being coiled by something so tight you think your blood flow has stopped. Loud breathing can be heard in the closeness of the space– it is right in front of you.

“König,” you whisper, “it’s me. I’ve come to wake you up.” If there’s any fear in your voice you hope your disgust still dominates it.

“Scheiße– sorry,” he says, voice thick with sleep, and you think he blinks or starts to understand where you two are. You relax a bit in his hold, shifting on your folded legs, and he finally realizes he’s still holding you.

“I’m sorry, sorry. I was dreaming,” his hands brush the sides of your arms before releasing you, as if appeasing a dog he accidentally stepped on. You scowl. He finally starts to move and sits up, his torso an even darker mountain in the obscurity.

“Are you going to sleep here?” He asks, voice high pitched, you’d say almost nervous as you move closer and don’t retreat to the other side of the tent. Your scowl gets deeper.

“I’m already here and they’re all the same size,” you say, taking your place in the cot. It’s comfortably tepid, to your pleasure. “It’s warm, too. You can sleep on mine when you’re done.” Considering the affair over, you bring the cover over your body and settle down. It smells a bit like him.

König is still crouching next to you: other than his breath, you can tell he’s there by the noise of his nails scratching up and down on his pants. Still not hearing him move, you raise your head.

“Aren’t you going outside?” Your tone could be meaner and more acidic, but drowsiness softens you, too.

“Yes… I’m going…” He sounds uncharacteristically reluctant, like he wants to oppose but knows he can’t. What, is watch duty too common for your team leader? You tut and turn over, and finally you hear him put his gloves on and walk outside.

You wake up to the sound of people speaking some hours after. Sighing, you get up, stretching away the ache from basically sleeping on the ground. It takes you a second to understand you’re not in your own bed and you’re in König’s instead. Getting up, you grab your utilities from your bed and exit the tent. In the makeshift camp, you see Roze and Horangi chattering away with instant coffee cups, and König working on his rifle. Roze sends you a charged look, to which you reply with a confused expression.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. That your new callsign?” She pokes at you, laughing.

You groan and walk over the coffee pot.

“Why didn't you wake me up?”

She shrugs, turning over in her thermal jacket. “We don’t have to be there before oh nine hundred. You can sleep on company time,” she finishes her coffee, throws the cup away and enters the tent again to dress up. You bite your lower lip and pour some for yourself, casually glancing over your male teammates. Horangi is just hovering, no doubt done with his preparations since he’s been awake for longer. König is still cleaning his rifle, and he hasn’t spared you a glance. You decide to fix that.

“You want to clean it so hard you can look at yourself during fights?” Snickering, you come up behind him. König slightly jumps, his hands clutching the rifle hard in order for it not to fall.

“Ahah, it was a bit filthy from yesterday. But now it’s clean,” he puts it down gently and carefully, always careful around guns. You look at him from behind your coffee cup. As always, it’s hard to tell what he’s feeling with the mask in the way, but he’s being particularly evasive today. To the point he hasn’t even looked you in the eye yet. Still, he turns to face you.

“What’s up with you today?” You ask him. You’re used to seeing him a little less down. If he isn’t feeling well, it could turn massively bad for all involved.

“Nothing. I hope the mission goes well.” He sounds more sure now. You shrug. His body moves as he stands up, and as always it unsettles you. But you refuse to address whatever that means, so you reply nonchalantly, “It seems pretty straightforward.”

“Ja…” He shuffles over his feet. You lean a bit over, wondering if he has anything else to say. He doesn’t, but he finally looks you in the eye: you keep looking at each other until Horangi speaks out of the blue and says it’s time to move. You turn abruptly and go join Roze in the tent.

It could have been over in a second. The building you were meant to go in, or what remains of it, has been reduced to a pile of burning debris, explosives turning it outside down. And you would have been none the wiser as it’d turn your guts out, too.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, and Horangi next to you urges you to move along, to follow König. König, who was the one to actively tell you and Horangi to not split from his command. You’d cringed, but followed him anyway, unkeen to disobey, and Horangi always listens to König anyway. And now you were alive because of a decision König made. Again.

Another successful assignment from KorTac. Please feel free to contact us again for any inquiry.

Looking outside the helo, you observe the silent dunes you’ve just left.

This always happens, you reason. Someone has a hunch. Another got a call from his grandma telling him not to go. You dream of a different path from the one that you’re supposed to take.

Why is König so good at this? It’s good that he’s good at this. You’d be missing your limbs otherwise. He sits across from you, knees brushing with yours. His eyes are glazed over, drowsy, hands folded together. An innocent visage, if one discards the blood over his clothes.

Ire crashes over you like waves. This fumbling man, almost stuck eternally in his adolescent, awkward state, is fucking great at his job. Far better than you could ever hope to be. Not only is he genetically built for hard conditions, but he’s also gifted with a natural sense for the battlefield and military tactics.

You’ve been thinking about him far too much lately. Looking at his back, at his incredibly toned legs. Torn between the long lasting distaste you’ve had for him and… whatever admiration you begrudgingly hold for him.

A light turns on in your mind.

That makes sense.

The Hungarian base is one of KorTac’s smallest. It’s usually bare from anything but the basic necessaries, and it has very few permanent workers. It’s the same case this time. The four of you and the pilot walk in a ghost town. One worker greets you like he had no idea you were even supposed to land there. They need to stop firing communication people in this company.

“König,” you muster a sweet tone, fighting the bile that comes up in your throat. König turns from walking with the others to face you, immediately alert.

“Can we go… somewhere private?” He freezes for a second, and then nods, eyes a bit wary. Fine. You honestly thought he’d be more hesitant. Maybe Roze does have a point.

You walk for a bit side to side and then open a random room in the corridor, furnished with just a long table and a number of chairs not appropriate for its length. You close the door and stand there, deciding you’re not going to sit. Yet?

Fuck, you don’t actually know how to go about this.

“So,” you start, “how do you think we’ve been getting along?” You ask, trying to test the waters.

“Ehm. Pretty good, I’d say,” he replies, accent thicker than usual. Your doe-like expression immediately changes to a skeptic one. You tilt your head, calculating.

“You don’t think I treat you a bit differently than the rest of our teammates?”

He looks around, like he knows this question is a trap. You’d be more annoyed if it wasn’t so fun to have him all for yourself to tease.

“I think we are friends… you get along more with Roze, but still…” He fidgets at his missing belt loop. Ah, goddamn, that’s another stupid thing about him, why can’t he put a belt on properly?

“Friends? We are friends to you?” You ask, tone clearly disbelieving.

“Yes… are we not…?” König’s voice is a whisper now, insecurity leaking over and filling the whole room. Oh Jesus. Now you really feel like a middle school bully.

“I think… that I kind of have a problem with you, König…” You tell him, weirdly meek. There’s no other way to go about it. You wish he had the same mixed feelings you obviously hold for him, but instead his are tragically simple and gentle minded… What a contrast from the cold, calculating man that saved your life this morning.

“What problem?”

“Nothing really… it’s just that you distract me… a little too much.”

“Distract you like how? Is it something I do?”

“Yes, but you can’t change anyway,” you confess. And, deep inside you, you don’t want him to change. Part of the reason you can’t stand König, after all, is how he embodies some part of you— the one not carefully curated to be as badass and hardhearted as possible, but one that instead just is, even if it’s uncool. You’ve desperately tried to hide it all this time, convinced it could only hinder you in your career– and then König shows up, and not only is he one of the best soldiers you’ve met in your life, but he’s also unapologetically himself all the time. And it doesn’t stop him from achieving anything.

This plan is stupid anyway. König doesn’t seem to be the man who agrees to casual sex. Hell, sometimes it doesn’t seem like he’s even aware of the concept.

“Maybe I’m the one that has to change teams… If we just can’t find a solution to this problem of mine…” This is bait: you could be more explicit, but maybe you really do need to change teams. You can’t be consumed by thoughts of your team leader, it’s just embarrassing. This sexual attraction (but also resentment) you hold for König can’t have you zone out in an active combat zone.

“No!” He says, voice loud and clear, his tone filled with panic. “Please… I…”

“You what?”

“I… I like you.” He confesses, eyes low. His hands are trembling a little.

Five seconds pass before you elaborate a reply to that.

“König, I treat you like shit!” The exclamation probably surprises you more than it does him.

“S-So?” He pants, what little of eyebrows you can see low, pupils dilated only a slight blue circle remains of his irids.

“So? How low is your confidence to like me when I insult you all the time?” You hiss, mere centimeters away from his face. How bad have his relationships with people been so far if he considers you a person worth liking?

You lower your eyes and see that his knees are bent in order to be closer to your height. If your mind wasn’t already made up, this would be the turning point. He follows your gaze down his body with his eyes and whimpers when your eyes lock on his bulge. Your little stress problem is going to get solved alright.

“You like me? Alright. We can go there, if you want. But remember, this is for me and my problem. Got it?” You point at his chest and he nods frantically at that, like he can’t believe this is really happening.

“Fine then. Take off your clothes.” You order, taking a step back and leaning your back on the absurdly long table. You’d make him remove his mask, but that feels like an additional step in intimacy you’re not sure you can ask of a man you claim to hate to the majority of people you know. And, most of all, you can’t force him. You’re out of bitterness for the day. It doesn’t mean that you’ll make it easy for him, though.

König clutches at his pants, taking one long leg out and then the other, remaining in his standard boxers, erection barely hidden behind them. He then moves to his jacket, which he drops to the ground, and then his compression shirt– his pecs are reddened by the blush you’re sure covers his whole neck and face. Your hand points down, and König immediately drops to the ground, so you can beckon him over with a slight gesture. He crawls over to you, stopping right in front of your booted feet.

You deeply enjoy ordering him around, so why stop now.

“Unhook my pants,” you tell him, “but don’t remove my panties yet.” He nods and brings his trembling hands to your belt, undoing it faster than expected, to then lower your pants to your ankles so he can move more comfortably between your legs.

“König,” you call out his name.

“Hmm?” he purrs, barely taking away his eyes from your clothed pussy. You think he’s been getting progressively closer.

“What are we going to do… with your mask?”

“Don’t worry,” he raises a thumbs up, like a huge fucking loser that you’re somehow attracted to, “I can manage.”

“Well then, manager,” you snark, irritated once again, “proceed. Eat me out.” He takes one hand off your leg to uncover his lower face– you only see a flash of it before it is hidden to you again.

He digs in, at first sniffing you, and then licking you through the cotton of your underwear. The warmth of his body is scorching in the chill air of the unused room. His tongue diligently brushes against your clit and slit until your gusset is soaked, and only then he moves them to the side to make direct contact with your pussy. You hiss as your elbow falls down on the table, your legs now spread open even further as he sucks on your clit. Apparently he does know what sex is.

“Can I use my fingers? Please?” He looks up, hood now covering him completely again.

“Hm… let me think on it…” you pretend to really ponder on it, and you see his eyes get bigger and wetter.

“Please!” he begs again.

“Alright, go ahead big guy,” you decide to throw in a compliment for his begging. After all, he’s being quite good. So much for the strict dominance.

His finger penetrates your entrance slowly at first, maybe afraid of going too fast. He takes his sweet time exploring, seeing which movements or spots really make you welp.

“Don’t get distracted now,” you tell him, kicking him lightly on his back with your heel. This is about you, not his curiosity. He straightens his back and starts licking you again, eager and enthusiastic. To think you’ve been just boiling over in your anger when you could have made good use of him.

You can feel your climax readily rising up, spurred by König’s slobbering care. Your hand reaches to keep him closer to you, and you think you can almost feel his hair under the hood. Longer than you expected. The mounting sensation and heat comes to a high and you come, strangled moan and head thrown on the table. König keeps licking and fingering you until you forcibly tear him apart from your pussy.

After the momentary bliss, there’s a moment there when you think about what you’re doing. If this is simply about getting off, the encounter can end here, even though you could be more satisfied. You’re not sure it’s only about that, though. König is panting in front of you when you raise your head, calm besides his breathing. You look at the sheer size of him, and think of his selflessness and his patience dealing with you. And then you look down at the stain of precum on his briefs and go what the hell, sure.

“Can I touch you?” You ask him, but before you can even finish the question he’s already saying yes yes yes.

Your hand brushes his bulge and he jolts, toes high. You scoff a little, entertained by his always so vivid reactions. When you take his impressive cock out, you give it an experimental jerk and see him jump even higher.

“God, König, keep it together, will you now?” You laugh derisively at him, to which he just grumbles a bit sadly.

“What do you want, huh? Want me to jerk you off? Want to fuck me?” You ask teasingly, getting even closer to his masked face and stroking his cock. Once again, he just mumbles. The still unresolved irritation rears its ugly head, and after squeezing his head until he yelps you let go of him.

“I’m not going to do anything if you don’t tell me. I’ve had it with your mumbling,” you snarl and cross your arms. König’s entire body animates and tightens at his panic, and his arms leave his sides to tentatively reach out to you.

“Y-You can do whatever you want to me.”

“Pathetic answer. Pick something, or I’m getting out of here and leaving you hard and leaking.” He finishes reaching out then, and grabs your hips softly, almost as if afraid of hurting you. One of your legs snakes around his.

“I want…” He starts, unsure and twitchy.

“You want?” You encourage him, squeezing his arm not so gently.

“... to fuck you.” He whispers, ashamed. You laugh in his face. He must come from a different planet, a different universe altogether. How can a man of his size be so submissive? It feels like an impossible combination, but you’re not complaining.

“Go ahead, then,” you tell him sweetly, and he nods only once this time, decisive. He grabs his dick then and reaches your entrance. Both of you are so soaked it’s almost effortless: his cock fills you and more, to the point the last inch of him takes more time and care. But you can almost feel him in your guts due to his length. König groans when settles inside you, and moves his arms to hold you in a lover’s embrace. You can feel his ragged breath next to your ear. A bit baffled, you move your arms to hold him too. The smell you inhale is the same you felt last night, so utterly him.

“Alright?” You whisper next to his ear, the soft brush of his hood on your cheek.

“Perfect… so hot…” he replies, squeezing you even harder. You sputter a bit at that, not expecting it, but squeeze back.

“You can start moving now.”

His first thrusts are uncertain and slow. You caress his mighty back to encourage him, and then your hand goes lower and you grab a handful of that ass. He gasps and you laugh again.

“You’re so big,” you tell him, “I don’t know how you even fit in me.” He straight up moans then, and drives so hard in you he almost knocks the wind out of you. Feeling him get more desperate, you sneak a hand between you to brush at your clit, helping yourself get there. König rushes when he feels you get tighter, and you have to hush him to calm him down.

“Just a bit more,” you tell him, “resist a bit more.” He just heaves as an answer.

He keeps a good pace, not too slow or too rushed, but when he starts jamming a little you know he’s close. He calls out your name, tone worried.

“I’m about to…” You grab him by the neck then, at least what you can hold, and he stills, in what is no doubt a great exercise of restraint. The torture could go on for longer, but all things considered he’s endured enough from you. Somewhere along the way this has stopped being about you and your problem, and has begun to be his as well.

“Let’s do it together,” you just whisper as you let go of him, hand going back to touch yourself. He mewls, this big puppy of a man, and you moan when his cock hits that special spot inside you. You come again, locking your legs around his waist, and he stutters and groans as he releases inside you, nosing at your neck. You swear you can feel his cum spilling out.

The two of you lay there for a moment, or two, or three. König’s face is still hidden in your neck, his back no doubt uncomfortable. He mouths something against your neck you don’t know how to decipher. Slowly, and reluctantly, you push at his shoulders. He rises then, and you immediately miss his heat and the feel of his body caging you in. Worst of all is when he takes his cock out of you– the gaping feeling is unbearable, coldness of the air hitting directly your tender core. König is looking at you like he doesn’t know what to do, which is exactly the case. You’re not so sure yourself. It’s the first time you sleep with a coworker you have a complicated relationship with.

“There’s the debrief…” you tell him, unconvinced. He knocks his head up, like you just reminded him, woken him from a spell.

You put your pants back on while König redresses. Looking at him, as those big muscles move and flex, you feel your desire for him rise again, but you’ve been gone for long enough. Roze and Horangi will already be suspicious.

Before you exit the room, you grab König by the arm. He takes a step closer to you, and you flex a bit on your toes to look at him in the eyes better. Moving your hand, you tenderly touch his face. He closes his eyes.

“König… you can’t let yourself be bullied all the time,” you brush his cheek through the mask and he leans on your hand.

“But I like when you tease me,” he says, head bowed. You giggle a bit at that.

“Then only I can do it, okay?”

He nods. You swear you can feel his smile through the cheap cotton of his mask.

#will i be shadowbanned again. we shall see #cod #call of duty #cod x reader #konig x reader #yours truly #konig

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wonusite · 11 months ago

Text

Hate to Love You (Not Really)

❝ The only thing worse than spending Valentine’s Day alone is spending it with someone you hate. ❞

PAIRING: lee seokmin x female reader

GENRE: enemies to lovers, coworkers au, fluff, smut

WORD COUNT: 3k

WARNINGS: coworker!seokmin, one sided enemies to lovers, pining, drinking, being forced to share a room, only one bed trope, seokmin is a HUGE simp, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampies, cockwarming, pussy drunk!seokmin, cock drunk!reader

A/N: this is for the lovely @drunk-on-dk as part of @svthub’s cupid for you collab! i really hope you like it! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

“We only have one room available.”

Those six words are the worst you’ve heard all day. If it weren’t for the heavy snow falling outside, you would immediately grab your things to try to find any other accommodation for the night. Not that you would have any luck since every other decent hotel you’ve been to is already full.

Seokmin glances over at you, nearly wincing at your dissatisfied expression. He clears his throat and fakes a smile as he looks back at the desk clerk. “We’ll take it. Thank you.”

The walk to your suite is silent and tense. In any other situation, you would’ve loved to stay in a luxury hotel, but being forced to share a room with your insufferable coworker isn’t how you pictured that happening. At least Seokmin isn’t stupid enough to crack one of his unfunny jokes as you two get inside the suite.

As if things weren’t already miserable, you find out that there’s only one large bed and a nice but uncomfortable looking couch. You let out a long, tired sigh. Just your luck. As if your day couldn’t get any worse.

“I’ll take the couch.” Seokmin’s voice is soft. “I don’t mind.”

You whip your head to look at him in surprise. His gaze seems shy, but he maintains eye contact. For some reason, you’re hyper aware of your heartbeat and how it’s slowly increasing. You clear your throat nervously and give him a single nod.

“Cool. Thanks.”

Silence falls over you two again. It’s not uncomfortable, but it is a little awkward. Mostly on your part because you hadn’t expected Seokmin to act so kindly towards you. After spending the entire day disagreeing about which manufacturer would be the best fit to produce the new wine bottles for the company, you thought he’d keep up his pettiness up to this point.

You tentatively sit on the edge of the bed, unsure of how to proceed. Ideally, you’d like to shower and order room service, but you can’t very well do it comfortably when you’re sharing a room with your coworker who you also happen to dislike a lot.

“Y/N?”

Seokmin’s voice is hesitant, as he inches toward you. In all the years you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him so nervous. For some sick reason, you feel endeared by the sight.

“Did you want to get dinner? I saw they’re having a special wine tasting event since it’s Valentine’s Day.”

It would be so easy to turn him down, not to mention satisfying. But he’s looking at you so earnestly that you can’t let yourself be the one to crush the hope swimming in his eyes. And you are pretty hungry since you didn’t get to have lunch. Also, having a glass of wine (or several) sounds way too appealing to turn down.

“Okay.”

You’re not sure what demon has possessed you, but it’s one that’s messing with your mind because there’s no way you’re finding your mortal enemy hot right now. Objectively, you know Seokmin is good looking. It’s undeniable, however, you’ve never been able to perceive him as attractive because of how much you dislike him.

Although, right now, in his nice dress shirt that hugs his broad chest just right, you can’t think of him as the same guy who constantly tries to undermine you.

“You look beautiful, by the way.” Seokmin says as you two sit down at the table. “I should’ve said something sooner, but when I saw you my brain just short-circuited.”

It’s true. When you stepped out of the bathroom in a slip dress that fit you just right, Seokmin just about died. He knew he must’ve looked like a complete fool just gawking at you without saying anything, but it was just a natural reaction.

Meanwhile, you have to force your expression to stay neutral as the waiter brings out the first wine you two are meant to taste. You’re not sure why Seokmin is suddenly acting so out of character, and you’re not sure why you’re feeling flattered and shy about his behavior.

“Thank you.” The words come out neutral (luckily for you). “You look good too.”

When he smiles at you brightly, you wonder if this is what all the other women in the office feel at the pretty sight. Seokmin has an infectious smile that’s too bright not to reciprocate. You hide most of it through a large gulp of wine, the bittersweet taste quickly marring your expression into one of neutrality again.

“Like it?” There’s a teasing lilt to the question.

You hum against the rim of the crystal glass. “Try it. Tell me what you think.”

It’s hard to control your expression when Seokmin listens to you. He never does, and the fact that he did it so easily is jarring. Also, it doesn’t help that he looks damn good while doing so.

Seokmin lets out a noise of approval. He licks his lips and maintains eye contact with you. “Sweet.”

The smirk he directs at you when you awkwardly cough is infuriatingly attractive. It feels like you’re potentially reading too much into his actions, and before you can really begin to question anything, the next bottle of wine is brought out for you to taste.

You attempt to distract yourself with the wine, but you can feel Seokmin’s eyes on you. There’s something heated about his gaze, and you can’t help but wonder what’s gotten into him. Still, you can’t bring yourself to outright ask even though you can feel the wine beginning to give you a nice little buzz.

“You must like this one.” Seokmin says, pretty smile still in place.

He says it because you gulped down what was in your glass. What he doesn’t know is that it’s because of him that you feel the need to finish the wine quickly so you can silence all these inappropriate thoughts you’re having.

“You must not.” Comes your rebuttal when you see that he’s barely taken a sip.

Seokmin doesn’t say anything at first. You can see him thinking, almost like he’s contemplating on how to answer you. Finally, he flashes another one of his annoyingly cute smiles at you. “It’s not bad, but seeing you like it so much is better than the taste.”

“What’s your problem?” You demand abruptly, not caring that the waiters who brought out your food are looking like they just walked into the crossfire.

That heart-stopping smile drops off his face, and his expression falls into the familiar cold one you’re used to receiving. Finally, the uncomfortable knot in your chest comes undone, but it’s replaced by a different discomfort.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

You scoff, annoyed that he’s not willing to acknowledge his odd behavior. “Yes, you do. Why are you acting like you don’t hate me all of a sudden?”

His gaze becomes hard, but you swear you see a tinge of sadness somewhere in that cold look. “I don’t hate you.”

You can’t understand why he’s lying, and so blatantly at that. It’s obvious that he’s hated you since you inadvertently picked holes in his first major presentation. He’s been out to get you ever since, and you’re not sure why he’s trying to act like you don’t know exactly how he feels about you.

“Right.” You scoff incredulously. “You telling the entire office that you’re capable of doing this project without my help was out of fondness.”

A blush slowly crawls up Seokmin’s neck and spreads across his face. “That—!”

“Oh, and I guess you did me a favor by telling our boss that ‘no woman should spend Valentine’s Day working!’”

Seokmin feels himself start to panic because he had said that, but it’s really not what you think. And he has to clear that up. Like now.

“Will you please just let me explain?”

You’re thrown off because the wine is slowly easing your nerves and because Seokmin looks like a kicked puppy. With a quiet huff, you nod stiffly, not wanting to make a scene even though some of the people at the surrounding tables are already looking at you funny.

“I just– I didn’t want you to have to spend today with me.”

Everything just seems to stop. Seokmin looks so remorseful and like he’s about to cry that you can’t think of his explanation as anything other than the truth. But then there’s the big question looming on your mind: Why would someone who hates you try to do something so kind for you? Unfortunately, you’re so thrown off that you can’t form a coherent response.

“You– What?”

Seokmin lets out a forced laugh. Your dumbfounded expression is adorable and makes him think that maybe he hadn’t entirely screwed up.

“Last month, I overheard you telling Josh that you had big plans today. When we were put on the project together and found out we had to work today, I tried everything so you wouldn’t be forced to spend the day with me. I’m an idiot for not realizing how you would feel about the things I said and I’m sorry.”

If only this sweet, silly man knew the big plans you mentioned involved five of your favorite romcoms and a bottle of wine. You can’t fully process the onslaught of emotions hitting you with full force, and you wish you had the capacity to answer him intelligently.

“But… why? Why would you do that for me?”

Seokmin can feel the heat coming from his face, but he soldiers on with what he hopes is anything but an embarrassed expression. “Like I said. I don’t hate you.”

You just blink at him, and he has to laugh.

“It’s true. And I’ll prove it to you.”

Just when you think he can’t surprise you anymore, he signals over a worker you hadn’t noticed before. The lovely woman had been handing out single pink roses, and now she was giving Seokmin the remaining ones after he slipped her several bills. You gape at him as he boldly hands them to you with that dumb, endearing smile.

“For you.” He nudges them toward you. “I know you would’ve preferred red or white roses, but I’ll get them for you some other time.”

Now his words are making your brain short circuit because what the fuck? How could he know your preferences and what did he mean that he would get you your favorite flowers next time?

All your rationality has gone out the window, and so have your inhibitions. It’s why you don’t care to cut the dinner short while telling Seokmin to follow you upstairs. He’s so obedient that you eat it all up. That and his needy kisses are too addicting for you to think about how wrong you’d been this entire time.

“You feel good, pretty girl?” Seokmin wonders from between your thighs.

His entire body burns with desire when you give him a heated look as you slowly roll your hips, grinding your soaking cunt down on his awaiting mouth. You do it with a neediness that has his eyes rolling and his cock twitching. Seokmin has never looked hotter to you than he does with your arousal covering his mouth and chin. You’re so turned on that your juices are slowly dripping down into a mess on the sheets bellow you.

“Amazing.” You breathe out through a whine as Seokmin dives back in, flicking his tongue on your throbbing clit before fucking it into your needy hole.

His cock is leaking and twitching as he drinks up every last bit of your arousal. Seokmin moans and groans into your cunt as you eagerly meet every movement of his tongue with an enthusiastic grind of your hips.

“Fuck, baby. Wanna make you come.”

You clench around his tongue at hearing the earnest words. It makes you arch into him more, loving how his tongue is splitting though your folds and slurping up all your arousal eagerly. He drags his wet muscle over your clit before sucking and rolling it like he would do to an addicting candy.

He’s so into eating you out, so fucked out by your taste alone that you can’t stop your quickly approaching orgasm. Seokmin’s eyes are rolling to the back of his head, moaning and whimpering about how you taste like absolute heaven. There’s even a moment where he lets it slip about how long he’s longed to have a taste of you, and that just does it for you.

The coil in your stomach snaps, and you two moan in pleasure together. Seokmin’s cock throbs wildly at the sweet taste of your cream. He licks every inch of your pretty pussy, not wanting to waste even a single drop of what you’re giving him.

“God.” You breathe out, legs trembling around his head. “Hurry up and fuck me.”

Expectedly, Seokmin does exactly as you want. You don’t care that you might need some time to adjust to his cock’s impressive size, you just need him.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this, angel.” Seokmin hums against your jaw as his fat tip teases your entrance. “All needy and wet, just for me.”

“Please.” You whine into his cheek as he laces your hands together. “Want you so bad, baby.”

Your moans are loud and downright pornographic when Seokmin finally eases his throbbing cock into your cunt. You’re so warm and wet and tight that he already feels addicted. He could come just from bottoming out, but he won’t. Not before he feels you come on his cock.

You arch your back, mouth dropped open in pleasure. “Fuck me!”

And he does, nice and deep. Your legs hook around Seokmin’s slim waist to push him in deeper. His cock is ramming against a spot no one else came close to touching, and you’re sm quickly starting to lose yourself to the pleasure consuming you. His big cock smoothes along your velvety walls with every rough snap of his hips, and you don’t even try to contain your cries of pleasure.

“Feels so good.” You whimper into Seokmin’s mouth when he turn to plant a messy kiss to your lips.

Your eyes roll back as his tongue forces it’s way into your mouth. His thumb brushes the back of your hand gently, the tender action only spurring you on as you try to meet the wet connection of his hips with needy grinds of your own.

Seokmin’s cock throbs inside you, seeming to swell at your words. He reluctantly pulls way from your lips, hips not stopping for a second. Every thrusts feels like the air is lowly being forced out of your lungs. But you love every second. All you can do is moan out his name with ravenous desire as he fucks his cock into you.

“Pussy’s so fucking tight.” Seokmin groans as his free hand trails down to your swollen nub. It’s so cute to hear you moan out for him as he starts to rub gentle yet fast circles into your clit. “Feels so good around me. Sh-Shit, Y/N. Never wanna stop fucking you. Want to be inside this pretty pussy all the time!”

You’re so turned on by his need for you and your pussy that you can feel yourself on the verge of coming. Especially with the way his fingers twist around your messy clit. Your inside are fluttering as his leaking tip rams into your soft spot over and over again.

“G-Gonna come!” You cry out and you squeeze the hand that is still wrapped around yours.

You focus on his rough thrusts and how his hips dig into yours as his big cock stretches your little pussy open to fit him inside. The restless flicks to your puffy nub push you over the edge as Seokmin urges you to come for him. He licks and sucks on your pulse point just to drive you more insane than you already feel.

“Seokmin!”

Your orgasm tips through you intensely as you crema all over his aching cock. Seokmin curls his body over yours, wrapping his brawny arm around you back to press himself against you. Now you’re stuck in his strong yet gentle embrace, bodies practically molded into one as he continues to split you open.

His thrusts become sloppy as he keeps on fanning the flames of your orgasm. “Need to fill you up, angel. Want to see your pretty pussy dripping with my cum.”

“Come inside me!” You beg, eyes rolling back. “Stuff me full!”

Seokmin smashes his lips on yours, greedily swallowing your moans as he empties himself inside your hot cunt. His entire body shudders in pleasure as he fucks his cum deeper into you.

“Fuck, baby. Take it all. It’s just yours, angel.”

You’re slowly coming down from you high when you feel Seokmin’s lip brush against your ear. “I’m not done yet.”

That’s when you find out he’s just as insatiable as you are.

“Fuck.” Seokmin moans against your neck as his thrusts grow sloppier and sloppier.

He’s so drunk on the feeling of your hot cunt that he feels any coherent thoughts start to get hazy. “So fucking pretty. Always so fucking pretty.”

Seokmin pulls you in for another kiss, hips still grinding into yours with a need that turns you on beyond belief. You’ve already came on his cock two more times, and he’s mad with clear that he won’t stop until he stuffs your pussy one more time. Which he does. Thick ropes of his cum spill into you, adding to the mess on his heavy balls and the sheets bellow you.

His next kiss is gentle yet passionate. Seokmin hums into your mouth, still making no move to pull out. His cock acts as a plug for all his cum, and when you shift he groans against your lips.

“Let me stay inside you, baby.” He pleads with shining eyes. “Please.”

“Okay.” You sigh as he rolls you over so your weight is on top of him now.

And it’s only when your on the cusp of sleep that you realize Seokmin still hasn’t let go of your hand.

#lee seokmin smut #seokmin smut #svt smut #svthub #svthub.collab #seokmin x reader #lee seokmin x reader #svt x reader #seokmin x you #lee seokmin x you #svt x you #seokmin imagines #lee seokmin imagines

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thedensworld · 1 year ago

Text

Guilty Flower | C.Sc

Pairing: Seungcheol x Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, slow burn

Summary: Seungcheol accepted his mother offer to meet you, his potential future wife said his mother, without knowing what kind of person you are.

Seungcheol, a man of countless responsibilities, found himself entangled in a web of anticipation. With a laundry list of 99 tasks to tackle, the last thing he desired was to be kept waiting. Almost half an hour had slipped away, and there was no sign of you. No message from his diligent secretary, Chan, indicating a cancellation. An internal sigh escaped him, a realization dawning that perhaps he was being overly considerate to a stranger.

His mother, insistent as ever, had urged him to meet you—Moon Y/n, a woman she'd encountered in a cooking class unbeknownst to Seungcheol. Information trickled in about your professional life, as a member of the Moon clan overseeing a significant conglomerate, Nova AutoWorks, headed by none other than your brother, Moon Junhui. The context lent some leniency to your tardiness.

With reluctance, Seungcheol reached for his phone, dialing Chan's number. He notified him of his imminent departure, resigning himself to the fact that dinner would remain elusive. Tonight's mood was effectively soured, all thanks to you.

Not one to retreat immediately, he sought refuge in his office, determined to chip away at the looming workload. Chan's competence was evident, yet Seungcheol couldn't resist the urge to scrutinize every detail before the dawn of the next day.

Morning light filtered into his office, accompanied by the fragrance of fresh blooms. Chan entered, bearing a bountiful bucket of flowers. Seungcheol rose from his chair, fingers tracing the sender's name on the accompanying note—Moon Y/n. An apologetic message nestled within, explaining your absence.

Seungcheol's brows knitted in contemplation. Was it common for a man to receive such a gesture? His mother's adoration for you, forged in the fires of their shared culinary pursuits, would surely wilt upon learning of last night's disappointment.

Chan, sensing the internal conflict, began to offer a solution. "If you'd prefer, I can get rid of these," he suggested, but Seungcheol intercepted the offer with a raised hand, his thoughts tangled in uncertainty. It seemed wasteful to discard such a gift, yet he was decidedly unversed in the language of flowers.

With a tentative query, he asked Chan if he possessed any proficiency in tending to such flora. Chan's surprise was palpable. "You'd like me to arrange them in a vase?" he confirmed.

Seungcheol inclined his head, the question resolved. "Is that the protocol for these... specimens?" he inquired, met with an affirming nod from Chan.

"Yes, sir. We'll supply them with water and ensure it's changed regularly. Any withering leaves, we remove; it prolongs their bloom," Chan elucidated, his tone adopting an air of expertise.

Seungcheol absorbed the guidance, a silent signal to his capable secretary to undertake the task. "And," he added before Chan could retreat with the bouquet, "once you've tended to them, kindly place them upon my desk."

Chan nodded crisply. "Of course, sir. It won't take more than five minutes." The words lingered in Seungcheol's mind, leaving him to ponder the unexpected role of a flower in his evening.

As you step out of the car, the clatter of your discarded helmet and gloves punctuates your frustration. The manufacturing manager, Kim Mingyu, approaches swiftly, sensing the gravity of the situation. Your face bears the weight of your anger, but you temper it with a cold composure as you lock eyes with him.

"You know exactly what needs to be said," you remark, your voice steady, arms crossed in stern resolve. The anniversary event looms, a mere two months away, yet the persistent recurrence of errors threatens to jeopardize its success.

Mingyu's gaze remains lowered, an acknowledgment of his accountability. He mumbles a conciliatory admission, his eyes shifting to the car that, in your estimation, still falls short of the masterpiece it should be.

Another sigh escapes your lips, laden with the weight of responsibility. "And what of our previous manufacturing vendor?" you press, seeking alternatives. Mingyu shakes his head, delivering the sobering news that even the best option has been snatched up by Hyundai, leaving PrecisionTech struggling to accommodate your intricate design.

Silent curses swirl in your mind for your brother's penchant for complexity and your ensuing burden. Not only must you ensure the flawless completion of this project, but you're also tasked with surpassing last year's anniversary event.

Your thoughts shift to the impending meeting with the vendor handling the anniversary launch, a critical milestone for both the car and your family's legacy.

"Innomatic, from the Seventeen Series," you suggest, memories of past successes with the company resurfacing. "Can we collaborate with them again?"

Mingyu's response brings a flicker of hope. "I believe so. Although, I'm not sure if Seungcheol is still overseeing it. He's now the COO."

Your brows arch inquisitively. "Choi Seungcheol?"

Mingyu nods, providing the confirmation that Choi Seungcheol holds a pivotal role at InnoCorp. He elaborates on the potential benefits of rekindling the partnership with Innomatic, drawing on their previous triumphs with the Seventeen Series.

Without further ado, you stride away, leaving Mingyu to ponder your sudden departure. Pulling out your phone, you dial your trusted assistant, Seo Myungho, whose loyalty has been unwavering for half a decade.

"I need you to cover for me," you implore, the urgency evident in your tone.

A scoff precedes Myungho's response. "I do it every day."

Your request takes an unexpected turn, one that elicits laughter from Myungho, followed by a barely stifled chuckle. "You claimed zero interest just last night."

A sigh escapes you, your fingers threading through your hair. "I know, and I am. But circumstances have shifted. I'll explain later. Just send him something... an email, an invitation to brunch, a thoughtful souvenir, or perhaps our exclusive repairment voucher. Please, please, please!"

You can almost hear the mischievous grin in Myungho's voice as he agrees, reveling in your unusual request, "it's refreshing to hear you begging like this, Y/n. Alrighty, I'll handle this easy-peasy task."

Seungcheol gestured towards the plush couch in his office, inviting you to take a seat. After a week of correspondence through emails, you finally found yourself face to face with Choi Seungcheol—the man who had been your beacon of hope. He was also the one you had inadvertently stood up on a date.

Politely declining the offer of a drink from his secretary, you turned to face Seungcheol, who occupied a chair arranged for him.

"I've reviewed your proposal to collaborate with Innomatic, but I believe a more in-depth discussion is in order, given our previous decision to decline Hyundai's offer. We need to ensure our alignment in the automotive industry, Ms. Moon," Seungcheol stated, his gaze steady and intent.

You reached for another file you had brought along, presenting the sales report and insights from the previous Nova-Innomatic venture. "Indeed, Mr. Choi. Based on this sales report and our collaboration history, I believe it's advantageous to build upon the strong foundation we've established."

Seungcheol perused the report before placing it on the table, leaning back and fixing his gaze on you. "I wouldn't characterize our relationship as 'good terms,' Ms. Moon."

The mention of the Nova Seventeen Series gave you pause. Suddenly, it dawned on you what he was alluding to. You promptly bowed, apologizing for the date you had flaked on.

"I'm sincerely sorry about that," you admitted, acknowledging your lapse in etiquette.

Seungcheol's response was a measured nod. "I waited for... nearly an hour. A significant stretch of time, particularly for individuals with demanding schedules, wouldn't you agree, Ms. Moon? Nonetheless, I appreciated the gesture the following morning."

You nodded, inwardly grateful that you had delegated the situation to Myungho. "Thank you. It was a memento from our previous collaboration—"

"I've taken to adorning my office with flowers. They're both aesthetically pleasing and calming," he interjected, motioning to a vase of blooms on the nearby table. Your curiosity piqued. What variety of flowers were they?

"I'm sorry?" you mumbled, slightly taken aback.

Seungcheol acknowledged your confusion with a nod. "You sent me flowers the next day. It was... the first time I'd received such a gift," he admitted, his tone tinged with a hint of reticence.

Your own words tumbled out in response, "I sent you flowers? Yes, I did. I'm glad they found favor with you," you replied, offering a sincere smile.

A smile you replicated every time you contemplated seeking retribution against Seo Myungho.

Seungcheol sat in an odd calmness amidst the lively banter of his friends. His fingers absently twirled the whiskey in his glass, his thoughts far from the story Jeonghan was sharing. It was Jisoo's sharp slap on his arm and ensuing laughter that snapped him back to reality, a stark contrast to Seungcheol's own demeanor.

Jeonghan's playful annoyance flared up. "I just told a hilarious tale about Soonyoung. How did you not crack a smile, Seungcheol?"

Seungcheol blinked, downing the contents of his glass in one swift motion. "I'm sorry, my mind's preoccupied at the moment," he admitted, setting the glass down.

Jisoo's smirk danced across his face. "I'd wager it's not work-related," he quipped, piquing Jeonghan's curiosity. "Work never troubles Choi Seungcheol. My dad even calls him the 'Jesus of InnoCorp.'"

The comparison made Seungcheol cringe. "What on earth does that mean?"

Jeonghan scoffed. "It means you're the savior of InnoCorp. You could be my Jesus too, Seungcheol."

"Does that imply Seungcheol has to make a sacrificial offering for you?" Jisoo chimed in, earning a casual shrug from Jeonghan.

"He saved me from a call to my dad's worker, if you must know," Jeonghan clarified, alluding to Seungcheol's initial role in the family business before his venture into the entertainment industry.

"So," Jeonghan clapped his hands to recapture their focus, "is this about the woman your mom set you up with?"

"She stood you up, didn't she?" Jisoo interjected. Seungcheol's brows furrowed, while Jeonghan gasped in astonishment.

"How did you know?" Seungcheol inquired, surprised at how swiftly the news had circulated within their circle.

Meanwhile, Jeonghan's irritation flared. He was entirely in the dark about the specifics of this supposed meeting. "Hold on a minute!"

"I heard it from Chan when I called him a few days back," Jisoo clarified, recounting the tale of Seungcheol's foiled date from a week prior, as if Seungcheol were a spectator to his own story.

"Moon Y/n, President Moon's daughter? The businesswoman? I can't fathom how President Moon managed to pass on his business acumen to all his children, while my father bequeathed me nothing but a stubborn streak," Jeonghan remarked, shaking his head in mild exasperation.

Jisoo chuckled. "Dokyeom is her friend, and he's spoken highly of her since their college days. She's our junior, Seungcheol," he revealed, prompting a raised brow from Seungcheol.

"She is?" Seungcheol queried, the revelation sinking in.

His lips pressed into a thin line as a flurry of questions about you crowded his mind:

1. What compelled his mother to be so insistent on introducing you?

2. Why did you stand him up on their date, only to send flowers the next day?

3. Why did the mere thought of you leave him feeling oddly fluttery?

4. Could this all be part of a strategic move, considering your interest in Innomatic?

"Out with it, Choi Seungcheol! Not everyone's a mind-reader," Jisoo chided, delivering a playful slap on his arm, a gesture he'd made more than once that evening—surely a sign of his inebriation.

Jeonghan, ever the perceptive one, added, "I can read about 50% of it, though. And right now, it's likely about Y/n."

Seungcheol chuckled, waving off Jeonghan's words. "Quiet, you two. I was merely contemplating something..."

"What if..." he began hesitantly, "someone were to send you flowers?" Seungcheol asked, addressing his two friends with a touch of uncertainty.

"Condolence flowers?" Jisoo's response made it clear he was thoroughly inebriated. Meanwhile, Jeonghan gasped dramatically, chanting, "She sent you flowers?!"

"Dude, she's a keeper. She's got you... She's definitely got you!" Jeonghan laughed, clearly unable to believe the turn of events.

Seungcheol regarded him with a bemused expression. "I'm not that easily swayed. I was just curious, is it commonplace for a woman to send flowers to a man? If so, then it was likely just her way of apologizing." Seungcheol explained slowly, but Jeonghan dismissed his words.

"But she's already won you over. I can tell, 100%. The moment you see her again, you'll be smitten. Trust me!"

Jeonghan's prediction had turned into an undeniable truth. Seungcheol's mother called him suddenly, requesting his presence to pick her up from her cooking class. Her request, however, entailed much more than a simple ride home; it involved a tasting session of the dishes she'd prepared, introductions to fellow classmates, and then their departure together. So, Seungcheol arrived promptly at the designated course building.

Upon his arrival, he discovered a scene of communal celebration, each student proudly presenting their meticulously prepared traditional Korean meals to their special guests. Standing by his mother's side, Seungcheol couldn't help but wonder if being here was indeed a wise decision.

Before the instructor could commence the class, a familiar figure entered the room. It was you, donning a striking white Etsy dress that complemented your complexion, exuding a unique blend of elegance and the commanding aura of a career-driven woman.

Did he just find you beautiful? No, it was more accurate to say he appreciated the beauty of your dress. Yes, that was it.

"Did you meet her on the date I arranged?" his mother discreetly inquired, to which Seungcheol simply nodded, now understanding her motive for summoning him here.

You swiftly made your way to the counter, offering an apology for your tardiness. As the class began, Seungcheol found himself stealing glances in your direction every few minutes, silently pondering why you had come alone.

"Will someone be picking you up later, Ms. Moon?" the instructor's voice carried clearly to Seungcheol's ears.

"I doubt it. My family members are quite busy," you replied with a light chuckle.

As his mother was called to present her creation, Seungcheol stood alone behind the counter, your eyes never once meeting his. It was as though you two had never crossed paths before, never shaken hands in agreement for the collaboration between your respective companies.

The instructor turned their attention to you. "Who have you brought with you today, Ms. Moon?"

You heard your answer, your gaze fixed on your dish, the instructor, anywhere but Seungcheol. Like the meeting and collaboration between the two of you had never happened.

Seungcheol's mother began to speak, "I brought my one and only son today. He used to complain that I never cooked for him when he was a child. That's why I worked hard to learn cooking, so I can prepare everything he wants now that I'm older."

Seungcheol couldn't help but steal another glance at you. He saw the gentle smile you directed at his mother. Unconsciously, he found himself mirroring your expression, a smile etched across his face until it was your turn to present your creation.

"You didn't bring anyone today, Ms. Moon. But could you share with us what inspired you to join our class? It's not often we have a young lady like yourself join us."

explained.

Seungcheol's gaze remained fixed on you, his ears attuned to every word that left your lips, your voice soft-spoken and gentle, a facet of your personality he'd noticed from the very first encounter.

"I've always loved home-cooked meals since I was a child. They remind me of the memories I shared with my grandmother. Sadly, no one in my family knows how to cook now. So, I thought it would be a good idea to learn to cook for myself," you explained.

Perhaps Seungcheol didn't understand how it all began. He might not have realized that his feelings for you had taken root from a simple flower you had sent him out of guilt. However, in that moment, he knew that his feelings for you had no intentions of finding an end.

Wednesday, July 26th

Seo Myungho: Chan, I don't think my boss will ever budge from her desk. She's knee-deep in wrapping up the end-of-month report!

Lee Chan: No way! My boss is already on his way :(

Seo Myungho: I just don't get why she agreed to the date in the first place if she wasn't interested! She clearly has a soft spot for your boss's mom, but not for your boss.

Lee Chan: But I swear, my boss is genuinely kind. He even told me to go home instead of waiting for him:(

Seo Myungho: Chan, that's just basic courtesy. Making sure you get home on time is what he should do.

Lee Chan: But he also surprised me with my favorite coffee and cookies this morning. He's seriously the sweetest boss ever.

Seo Myungho: Well, good for you. I can't relate at all -_-

Lee Chan: Anyway, my boss just arrived.

Lee Chan: Yo!

Lee Chan: Hyung, really :(

Thursday, July 27th

Seo Myungho: Chan! My phone died yesterday and I forgot to let you know. Turns out, my boss couldn't make it because she had a sudden bout of constipation!

Lee Chan: You're such a pain, hyung. It's all good though, I handled everything.

Seo Myungho: What do you mean?

Lee Chan: I'll fill you in later... Lunch at Kimbab Heaven?

Seo Myungho: Deal!

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dawnfelagund · 15 days ago

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Back in 2019, I wrote a blog post called The Inequality Prototype. As part of it, I counted a bunch of stuff related to the Valar and looked at how those metrics differed based on gender. At the time, I thought it would be interesting to extend this work over the entire Silmarillion, namely looking at who speaks in the text and who doesn't. For Tolkien Meta Week, I began this work and am collecting my analyses related to it here. It is very much still a work in progress and will likely take me years to complete, but I'm going to post interesting data as I discover it.

This project, like all of my data projects, is available to use under a CC license for others who want to play with the data: View the data | Copy the data | Methodology, progress, etc.

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Dialogue does not occur evenly across The Silmarillion. While a little over 5% of the words in The Silmarillion as a whole are used in dialogue, this is very unevenly distributed across the chapters, with some chapters about half dialogue and six chapters containing no dialogue at all.

There is a lot more work to be done to tease out trends and patterns that might have some meaning, but just glancing at the graph above, some of those patterns do begin to emerge. First, dialogue increases as The Silmarillion progresses. In the second half of the book (calculated by chapter, not page or word count), only two chapters have no dialogue and only four chapters (inclusive of those two without dialogue) fall below the median of 5.3% dialogue. Put another way:

In the first half of chapters, 71% of chapters are below the median.

In the second half of chapters, 29% of chapters are below the median.

Why is this? My tentative theory is that we see the book moving from the realm of the mythic—from events that are passed down through the oral tradition and ancient written traditions—and into the historical, where the narrator has a greater array of sources, including eyewitness testimony, and begins to write with greater immediacy rather than the arm's-length style of myth and ancient history.

What I am curious about: As I dig deeper into these data, will I see this theory bear out in which episodes or characters/groups are granted actual dialogue? In other words, will characters and peoples lost to the mists of time speak less, as I would expect? Or will the type of dialogue (e.g., a formal speech that may have been preserved vs. an extempore conversation that would not) vary based on narrative distance? I have documented in the past that the narrator of The Silmarillion uses the "it is said/told/sung" construction more with characters who are less accessible, so there is evidence that Tolkien manipulated writing style based on what his narrators' access to various sources. Does he use dialogue similarly to communicate that "mythic distance"?

There are also chapters that are more expository in purpose (Valaquenta, "Of Beleriand and Its Realms") that do not contain dialogue. Without digging deeper into the chapters themselves, most of those without dialogue that aren't similarly expository are chapters where the material would be less accessible to Pengolodh as a narrator. Whether this bears added scrutiny remains to be seen!

Finally, in discussing these data on the SWG's Discord, polutropos noticed something interesting, which is that the chapter with the most dialogue—"Of Aulë and Yavanna," where almost 57% of the words of the chapter are given over to dialogue—was not in fact written by Tolkien. As document by Douglas Charles Kane in his book Arda Reconstructed, "This chapter is completely manufactured by Christopher, though using his father's own writings" (page 54). Where Kane usually includes a chart pointing to the source for each bit of The Silmarillion, his chapter on "Of Aulë and Yavanna" contains no such chart because, while he is able to document where ideas came from, Christopher actually wrote the chapter.

Interestingly, "Of the Noldor in Beleriand" is the chapter with the second most dialogue and, according to Kane, "The changes made in this chapter are among the smallest anywhere in the published text" (page 154). So Tolkien does sometimes write dialogue-heavy chapters—though without data to back me up (yet! it's coming!), most of that dialogue appears to come in the form of lengthier speeches, not necessarily the debate/conversation format of Of Aulë and Yavanna."

The biggest impact of the dialogue-heavy "Of Aulë and Yavanna," I suspect, will emerge as I dig more into the data on gender and who speak in The Silmarillion. Yavanna is one of the women who speaks the most in The Silmarillion, but almost all of her dialogue occurs in this chapter. If this chapter is constructed by Christopher, how does that impact the amount of speech women are permitted by Tolkien? Polutropos' observation spurred me to plan to document the source of the various dialogue sections: Are they original to Tolkien's writings or added? Kane, interestingly, is critical of Christopher Tolkien in Arda Reconstructed for what he perceives as Christopher removing women characters from the text. In this instance, we see a significant example of the opposite: a woman's role is not only expanded, but she is given an opportunity to speak.

#silmarillion #tolkien #silmarillion: who speaks?

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cal-daisies-and-briars · 11 months ago

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Inspiration Saturday/Several Sentence Sunday

Thank you to @disasterbuckdiaz @tizniz @fortheloveofbuddie @diazsdimples and @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove for the tags!

Was very busy yesterday so combining these today!

After watching that INSANE season 7 trailer, I decided to write my first actual spec fic? Well, kind spec? Is it spec if you know for sure it's not gonna happen? Anyway... Here's the first bit from a little one shot tentatively titled "Spinning Out" about Eddie's helicopter trauma being reawakened based on the events of that trailer.

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The chopper had hit the water nose first, and is sinking in that direction, so Eddie - and Chim and Buck here in the backseat with him - are suspended upside down, buckled in and sinking with it. From back here, vision distorted by impact, salt, and total darkness, Eddie cannot tell how Hen and Tommy are doing up front. Beside him, Chim is struggling with his seatbelt. On the other side of Chim, where Buck should also be moving and frantic, Eddie cannot sense any motion.

Buck being the only still thing in the world is enough to sober him into action.

Eddie is out of his seatbelt in a fraction of a second, reaching over to quickly undo Chim’s as well. It’s easier than it was in Afghanistan. Laws have changed since then, regarding helicopter seat restraint manufacturing. Eddie knows. Eddie pays attention. People drowned, just like this, and the laws changed. So even underwater, it’s easier.

---

No pressure tagging @pantsaretherealheroes @jeeyuns @aroeddiediaz @exhuastedpigeon @theotherbuckley @fionaswhvre @steadfastsaturnsrings @mangacat201 @daughterofscotland @athenagranted @evanbegins @wildlife4life @devonwritesstuff

#daisies and briars writes #911 fanfic #season 7 speculation #Eddie Diaz

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 9 months ago

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By: Sahar Tartak

Published: Apr 22, 2024

I was stabbed in the eye last night on Yale University’s campus because I am a Jew.

I wish I could say I was surprised, but since October 7, Yale has refused to take action against students glorifying violence, chanting “resistance is justified,” “celebrat[ing] the resistance’s success,” and fundraising for “Palestinian anarchist fighters” on the frontlines of the “resistance.” In more recent days, the school has allowed students to run roughshod over their most basic policies against postering, time and place restrictions, disorderly conduct, respect for university property, and the rights of others, not to mention stalking and harassment.

Yesterday, I paid the price for their inaction.

This latest round of anti-Israel demonstrations at Yale began April 10 when a group of a dozen Yale students threatened to go on a hunger strike if, by the end of the week, the university did not divest from weapons manufacturers “contributing to Israel’s assault on Palestine.” The strikers’ letter, posted around campus, claimed “our existence in this University and this country are ones defined by necropolitics,” seeming to invoke a blood libel about Jewish power.

The hunger strike began April 13, when students set up a tent encampment outside of Yale’s Sterling Library and later that week moved locations to Beinecke Plaza, which is at the center of campus and is home to Yale’s World War II memorial. At the time, my friends and I had thought that this was nothing more than a tactic to intimidate prospective and admitted Jewish students, who were on campus visiting that week: a sign next to the encampment read “Ask your tour guide about Yale’s investment in genocide.”

By April 15, the hunger strikers were joined by a new anti-Israel campus group called “Occupy Beinecke.” Occupy Beinecke erected a wall on Beinecke Plaza, and covered the Plaza with dozens of large posters, including a memorial (where students drop off flowers) for Walid Daqqa, who commanded the terrorist group the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine and was imprisoned for the kidnapping, mutilation, and murder of 19-year-old Israeli Moshe Tamam.

I’m well aware of students’ free speech rights, having worked closely with the Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression as well as the Foundation Against Intolerance and Racism, which both helped me ramp up a campus magazine this year. The issue isn’t students who glorify Hamas—as morally perverse as I find that view. It’s that Yale administrators and professors have cowered to the mob and have refused to stand up for the most basic Yale values by condemning their glorification of terrorism and demonization of Jews. Indeed, Pierson’s head of college told me in October that Yale’s 14 heads of college were all instructed not to advertise a Shabbat dinner mourning the lives of those lost on October 7.

By April 20, the students’ encampment had grown to roughly forty tents, sleeping bags, umbrellas, and a stereo. On Saturday night, a student in a Class of 2026 group chat encouraged Yalies to come and show their support for Yalies4Palestine. As a student journalist for the Yale Free Press, I went to check it out. Other reporters from the Yale Daily News were already on the scene.

I should say here that I am a visibly observant Jew who wears a large Star of David around my neck and dresses modestly. I went over with my friend Netanel Crispe, who is also identifiably Jewish because of his beard, black hat, and tzitzit.

When we approached the anti-Israel protest accompanying the tent encampment to document the demonstration, we were quickly walled off by demonstration organizers and attendees who stood in a line in front of us. No one else documenting the event was blockaded this way.

In every direction we moved, demonstrators stood in front of us, arms linked, yelling along with the crowd. (Watch this video and ask yourself if this would happen to a student who did not look visibly Jewish.)

They shoved us and waved their flashlights in our eyes. One demonstrator held up a boombox in front of Netanel’s face, blasting a rap song with the lyrics:

Fuck Israel, Israel a bitch / Bitch we out here mobbin’ on some Palestine shit / Free Palestine bitch, Israel gon’ die bitch / Nigga it’s they land why you out here tryna rob it / Bullshit prophets, y’all just want the profit

As I separated from Netanel and tried to walk through, the wall of protest organizers in front of me remained. When I said, “I can walk. I have freedom of movement,” they mocked me: “Do you hear that, everybody? She can walk!”

Before too long, the protesters encircled me in addition to the human blockade. Their arms linked, and they danced in a circle around me so that I was pinned between them, the human blockade, and a wall. Some other demonstrators noticed this and joined in on the taunting.

They pointed their middle fingers at me and yelled “Free Palestine,” and the taunting continued until a six-foot-something male protester holding a Palestinian flag waved the flag in my face and then stabbed me with it in my left eye.

My assailant was masked and wearing a keffiyeh, concealing his identity. He also wore glasses and a black jacket. I started to yell and chase after him, but the wall of students continued to block me as I screamed. Next, I went to the Yale police, but they offered little in the way of assistance. They told me that their orders came from administrators who weren’t present at the demonstration, and that there were only seven officers to handle a crowd of about 500. So I was checked out by an ambulance EMT, who recommended I go to the hospital.

The midnight demonstration, the encampment, the violence, all of it violates Yale policy. Some of it, like my assault, also violates state and federal law. Yet nothing meaningful seems to happen in response. Given Yale’s permissiveness, I had the sinking feeling that someone would get hurt. I just didn’t expect it to be me.

I felt pressure where the stick of the flag had hit my left eye and had a headache last night and much of today. I’m okay now, though. But last night, sitting in the hospital, I couldn’t help but think of my mother, Shahnaz, who grew up in Iran. Her neighbors threw rocks at her for being a Jew. She has a scar on her eyelid to this day.

Sahar Tartak is a sophomore at Yale. She is a student leader for Chabad and editor-in-chief of the Yale Free Press.

#Sahar Tartak #antisemitism #israel #domestic terrorists #pro hamas #hamas supporters #islamic terrorism #terrorism supporters #palestine #intimidation #islam #islamic violence #religion is a mental illness

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atzupdates · 2 years ago

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[230303] ATEEZ are showing the world another side of K-pop by Taylor Glasby of i-D

Going stratospheric despite their small agency beginnings, the arena headliners discuss manifesting success and their secret ambitions.

ATEEZ have just played a raucous show to 20,000 fans at London’s O2 Arena. Backstage, with the adrenalin still pumping, Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Yeosang, Mingi, San, Wooyoung, Yunho and Jongho are talking about football. Mingi, deep-voiced, his cropped hair cotton candy pink, is a Chelsea fan. Jongho, the band’s youngest at 22, follows Spurs. “Which is better?” asks Mingi. My tentative, uninformed guess (“Spurs?”) yields triumphant hoots and disappointed groans, as Jongho reaches over for a fist bump and hi-five. This exchange isn’t so much about football, as it is a reflection of ATEEZ wanting to make everyone they encounter feel welcome – a habit unchanged despite their stratospheric rise through the global pop landscape since debuting in late 2018.

During their week-long stay, they meet fans (known as ATINY) at a signing event, make late-night TikToks beneath the glow of Big Ben, go live on YouTube from a cosy corner of a hotel room, and watch South Korean forward Son Heungmin score at a Tottenham Hotspur game. The club’s home stadium (soon to host Beyoncé’s five London concerts) leaves a lasting impression on Yeosang: “When I saw how big it was and how loud the people were, I thought about how I want to be an artist that can play there,” he says in his slightly raspy voice. Wooyoung’s thoughts, however, linger Stateside in the wake of their most recent EP, Spin Off: From The Witness, earning them a second Top 10 entry on the Billboard 200 in early January. “I don’t know if it’s a team goal or my own,” he admits, “but I do want a #1 on the Billboard Hot 100. Hoping for it to happen is the easy part, but what’s necessary is the confidence and bravery in the belief that it will happen.”

ATEEZ’ ambitious nature is an overarching constant to their rapid growth as individuals and artists, useful as both a touchstone of their success and a beacon for their creative output. It was present on their first record, Treasure EP1: All To Zero, which set up a rebellious narrative (now a complex and sprawling alt-world storyline) just as much as it drives their meteoric singles and the exploratory genre-overlaps of their B-sides. As a result, they’ve become a prolific and landmark group. The World EP.1: Movement (their ninth EP, out in July 2022) was ATEEZ’ first platinum-selling release, a major accomplishment for an idol group from a relatively small K-pop agency.

Hongjong, the band’s leader, thinks and talks fast (today, in English) but he pauses to take a moment to muse over their trajectory. “Many people say that I can be proud of being a group from a small company that has made their own way. So if we continually do it like this with ATINY, then in the future people might agree that ATEEZ have made a change in K-pop. I think for now though, we haven’t done enough.”

They hope, notes Seonghwa (the band’s eldest member at 24), that their achievements will eventually be on a broader scale. “We’d love to be the people behind that movement,�� he says. Hongjoong nods in agreement: “I want for us to provide people with a better understanding of K-pop worldwide. There are people who continue to say that K-pop is so technical and manufactured but K-pop isn’t just a single genre; each group has a different type of art and I want to show how we express our art to everyone. When I look into the crowd at concerts, I can see so many people of all ages and backgrounds yet stereotypes against the artists and the fans still exist.”

In the early days of ATEEZ, it was evident that Hongjoong and Mingi played a key role alongside their music production team, Edenary, and that a sense of individualism seemed to be encouraged in the group’s performances. These are both now acknowledged as strengths in their arsenal. The Fellowship: Break The Wall, their third world tour, serves to highlight their unified stance while showcasing the members’ idiosyncrasies — from dance style to sense of humour — but also how comfortably they inhabit the stage.

“During our 2019 Expedition tour, we learned a lot about how to perform with every show we did,” says Yunho, an effortlessly impressive dancer. “Then during the pandemic, we studied and developed how to really make the performance; working on the stage configuration and synchronisation of moves amongst ourselves. When we came back to Europe and the US last year for the Fellowship: The Beginning of the End tour, we were able to see how everything we’d worked on and our personal growth came together on that stage.”

For some members, the process has involved looking beyond the stage in order to feel more at home on it. Yeosang’s regimented program of working out put him physically and mentally in a stronger place: “I relieve my stress while exercising, but my breathing got better and my muscles also got better, so overall it connected into a great result on stage.” San and Seonghwa also turned inward, sifting through mental libraries of borrowed or imaginary traits to build and inhabit new characters for their performances.

“I always have a lot of imaginative thoughts,” says Seonghwa, whose general serenity is replaced by a lightning-strike energy on stage and sparks of playfulness when you least expect it. “Even before sleeping, I tend to think about fantastical things,” he continues. “I use these to decide on how I’m going to be on stage and make sure the atmosphere matches with elements like my outfit.”

“For San, it’s movies and dramas [that inspire his performances], he takes those characters on,” explains Wooyoung. San, widely lauded for having an explosive stage presence, makes his creative choices the day of. “If there’s something I think of that I want to do that day, I share it with everyone to see if it will be okay. Then we create that image together and I simply express myself.”

Wooyoung, who is both mischievous and magnetic, looks to those he admires for guidance. “I mostly look at videos of our seniors – Jimin (BTS), Taeyang (Big Bang), Hoshi (SEVENTEEN), there’s so many – I get inspiration from them and make it my own on stage.” It’s a process also adopted by Yunho. “There are artists that I can pull from, like Rain, learning from them in order to realise my own style,” Yunho says. “On stage, it’s just me, I’m myself, but I have all this in the back of my mind.”

The title of their current tour, The Fellowship: Break The Wall, is derived from last summer’s single, “Guerrilla”, on which the phrase “break the wall” is chanted with increasing ferocity, culminating in a screamo-style vocal outro. It’s one of the show’s many high points, with ATINY putting their everything into screaming along with the band. The atmosphere grows feverish, the stage bathed in red light as the giant screens flash through the dystopian city of their storyline. It’s unbridled to the point of being transcendental. San grins, reflecting on this moment. “It’s difficult to explain,” he says of the experience, while Hongjoong sees in it the removal of cultural barriers through music. “I see ATINY during ‘Guerrilla’ singing along really loud and really tough,” he says. “They come to our show, they memorise our lyrics, they shout. That’s how they’re breaking the wall, by coming together.”

Since last October, ATEEZ have been playing arenas across Asia, the US and Europe, adding extra nights as they go in order to accommodate the demand, and garnering rave reviews — even from broadsheet media, for whom K-pop remains a confusing phenomenon — in the process. But their feet, heart and heads remain earthbound. “Nothing in this world is guaranteed,” says Wooyoung. “We’re always grateful for everything. It’s something we’ve discussed as a group, but it’s all thanks to ATINY’s love and support that we’re where we are now. To become global artists and a good influence on even more people, we have to hold a sense of responsibility to give our all on stage and deliver our truth. Honestly, it’s less about dreaming of an unknown future and more about how we have to work harder so we can go even higher and pave our own path.”

ATEEZ’ success is holistic in form: personality, performance and music. A harmonious but intriguing balance of authenticity and polish. Their impressive discography features recurring motifs (waves, moon, light) and ideologies (power, truth, rebellion, movement), yet Mingi and Hongjoong — who have written lyrics on every ATEEZ track so far — admit they’re still learning how best to combine what’s on their minds with what’s conducive to furthering their storyline. It is, they agree, not always an easy task.

“It’s absolutely hard to focus on so many themes,” says Hongjoong. “Sometimes my brain stops, so I watch movies or our music videos again. I think too much when I write but, after that work, the lyrics have more power for the fans who know our storyline; they get different emotions and a different effect when I’ve done that work well. It’s really hard but it’s important to do.”

Hongjoong had an epiphany when he picked up a camera while touring last year. “There's such fierce competition – not just in music but all industries – so if there’s no purpose, I’ve always found it really hard to create freely. We have continuous deadlines. I do the first album, then the second, and once I complete the second album I have to start on the third. I’ve found my hobby with a film camera. I walk around taking photos and I can see that even if I have no immediate purpose, I can create something.” It’s something that’s changed his approach to songwriting. “These days, when I write lyrics or produce a song, I just start from zero,” he explains. “Before, if we had a pirate theme, for example, I would start with that as a topic. That’s why I found it so hard.” He now works backward, getting down exactly what he wants to say before connecting it to the narrative markers. “It’s quite different but it’s more comfortable for me and the results are better than before.”

Hongjoong and Mingi, the group’s rappers, point to last year’s "Halazia” as the hardest storyline track to pen. “The atmosphere of the song is already quite difficult and complex,” Hongjoong notes, looking over to Mingi, who explains his process of cataloguing his many thoughts to later draw from. “I write down a lot of them as memos on my phone, so I always go back to them to see if they match what we’re going through (as a group); that’s how I write my lyrics,” he says. “Sometimes I’ll think of it as writing a script, to really get into that persona."

Mingi and Hongjoong are not the only collectors and creators in ATEEZ. “In my case,” says Seonghwa, “I always memo whenever I hear a line from a song or a line from a poem that I like, just for me to look back on. I’m the type to jot down my feelings if I experience something special. These help me when I write letters or want to say something to ATINY because I’m able to better word my feelings.” San, meanwhile, cites legendary South Korean poet 나 태주 (Ra Tae-joo) as an influence. “I love poems too — I’ve been writing my own but I keep them to myself,” he says. “They can be about my feelings on a certain day, the weather, objects or characters. I’m able to lay out my feelings like this.”

Now in their fourth year, ATEEZ remain as set on the idea of constantly challenging themselves as they were when they were hungry rookies. Take Jongho for example, whose rich, gut-punching vibrato forms the backbone of many of their songs. When he listened back to The World EP.1: Movement for the first time, he admits that he was “worried because my voice was used in ways that I hadn’t tried before, and I wondered how my vocal colour was going to fit”. He sat down with their producers and worked through “how we could still make it still an ATEEZ song and match my tone, while trying something new. I’ve gained more confidence — it makes me want to do better for all the albums to come.”

Hongjoong laughs. “It means our next albums are, uh, a big thing,” he reveals, knowingly. “There are so many good K-pop and pop stars that if we want to go higher, we have to have more good songs and try other genres, too.” But even as he muses on ATEEZ’ continuing expansion, the idea of one day becoming ‘too big to fail’ doesn’t appeal to him. “No, absolutely not that,” he says, gaze steady. “I want ATINY to be able to tell us if something is bad. I like it when they do this because we don’t want to just give them our popularity. I want to give them good quality, not just a song or a video or a performance.” Does the fact that music is subjective; that no single song can please everybody, bring some comfort? “We try to find the middle ground,” Hongjoong says. “The first thing to note is that if we think it’s really great but someone else says that they think it’s trash, then we don’t really care what they think. But when we’re unsure and questioning and someone says, ‘Yeah, it’s bad’, then ok, we go back to square one.”

The thought of ATEEZ honing their creative output through repeated baptisms of fire might well upset some fans, but the band are not only accustomed to the fame game’s highs and lows but wholly pragmatic in the face of its shadows. So when Wooyoung says he’s aware of “many people” who openly disparage their music, Hongjoong shrugs a little as he responds. “Yeah, there are. We talk about this a lot together, but if there are many more haters than before, it just means we’re more popular than before,” he reasons.

The group finds positive equilibrium via a heartfelt focus on ATINY, and all that comes with being an idol group who are years into a very successful career. “When we look at line-ups now, we’re closing the show,” says Wooyoung. “And as we perform, we see the other artists watching us, and we realise we have more responsibility. Firstly to ATINY, who have been loving us and supporting us from the start, but there’s also a responsibility to spread K-pop and Korean culture because we’re travelling around the world as Korean artists.”

One of ATEEZ many dualities is that while they have big, burning aspirations — Billboard charts, Grammys, performing at the Super Bowl — that make them look at each other starry-eyed, some of their ambitions are precious in a different way: they’re simpler, more immediate. “I’d like to be happier than the day before,” says Mingi. “And I want for us to never change our sincerity toward music and gratitude to our fans,” adds Seonghwa. This is echoed by San, who adds that ultimately, “I’d be satisfied if ATEEZ’ name came up when someone asks who the coolest artist is at the end of the year.”

“I want to make more events with ATINY,” says Hongjoong. “That’s a goal for this year because we always miss them and they always miss us.” Jongho, sitting in the middle of the group, is smiling. He’s been manifesting a more personal ambition. “By next winter I want to be able to snowboard,” he says. “I want to buy my own board, go down the mountain and not fall.”

#ateez #m: all #type: interview #content: i d #era: the fellowship : break the wall #type: article

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sangeetainternational · 2 years ago

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Purchase Good Quality Tent Material from Reputed Companies

The size of tent material varies according to the type of the tent for example Maharaja tents are used to accommodate a large number of people and on the other hand safari tents and medieval tent are relatively smaller because they are used by a small group. Maharaja Tent, as the name specifies, usually have a humungous size because they are used to accommodate large number of people. This particular type of tent has a conical top and a bottom of any quadrilateral shape. Maharaja tent is the king of all tents when it boils down to fashion and the size of tent material. This particular type of tent is often used at various events like family gatherings and weddings.

#Event Tent Manufacturer.#Maharaja Tent

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nagtibbatrek · 3 months ago

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Explore Our State-of-the-Art Facility | Nagtibbat Tents

Discover the heart of Nagtibbat Tents at our state-of-the-art facility, where innovation meets quality. Equipped with the latest technology, our manufacturing process ensures that every tent is crafted to meet the highest standards. We specialize in producing a diverse range of custom tents for various events, from weddings to corporate functions. Our dedicated team prioritizes quality assurance at every stage, ensuring durability and aesthetic appeal. Explore how our advanced facility supports our commitment to delivering exceptional tent solutions in Saudi Arabia and elevating your event experience!

#Nagtibbat #facility #tent manufacturing #quality assurance #custom tents #Saudi Arabia #event solutions #production capacity #innovation

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sonic-wildfire · 2 months ago

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Miscellaneous Facts

Some interesting facts that don't really fit in the previous categories.

Sonic has very mild agoraphobia, specifically towards large, empty spaces.

One of Sonic’s idle lines reveals he secretly envies Shadow and Silver for having chest fur.

Sonic notes more than once that subglacial bodies of water scares him even more than the open ocean.

Tails initially was going to tag along with Sonic to Antarctica but on the night before departure, he had a dream forewarning him of “a looming danger barely within [his] control.” It apparently spooked Tails enough to convince him to withdraw from the expedition.

Interested in learning more about Sonic Icebound? Visit this document to read up!

More of Icebound's miscellaneous facts below the cut:

Knuckles, who appears during the tail end of the game, claims to have been to Antarctica before and climbed Vinson Massif, the continent’s tallest mountain. Coincidentally, Sonic summits Mount Sidley (Antarctica’s tallest volcano) during the game’s events.

It is suggested that certain breeds of Chao could survive in Antarctica from an abandoned logbook entry.

Sonic only took a radio transceiver with him on the trip at Tails’ insistence.

Another logbook entry from an abandoned outpost suggests that Eggman used the Sidley-Weiss base to mass manufacture Shadow Androids sometime prior to Sonic Heroes.

One of Sonic’s idle lines states that he once looked at Shadow’s MP3 player and found out the latter listens primarily to Motown pop, soul, and jazz fusion.

Knuckles reveals that despite residing on Angel Island (which, presumably, has a cold climate), he hates cold climates.

Another idle line from Sonic states that he had considered inviting Big to come with him to Antarctica but decided against it, reasoning that there would be very few good fishing spots for him to go.

Among the three bosses Sonic fights before Simulacrum, Eggman wrote in a logbook that he considered E-109 Kappa to be the one with the best chance at ultimately defeating Sonic but expressed doubts as to whether its speakers were durable enough to consistently output infrasound.

Eggman also wrote that he had also been working on an Omega-sized model tentatively named E-112 Phi but scrapped it for undisclosed reasons. He also mentions offhandedly that he had named the models after Greek letters of the alphabet because he took Greek as one of his minors in college.

The cutscene in which Sonic’s radio transceiver dies following the boss battle against E-111 Iota is the only time in the games that Sonic is ever shown crying.

@sonic-au-collision

#sonic icebound

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alayditentuae · 2 years ago

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theculturedmarxist · 2 years ago

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On Friday, the US Chamber of Commerce issued an open letter to President Joe Biden imploring him to appoint a “mediator” and force through a tentative agreement between the Pacific Maritime Association (PMA) and the over 22,000 dockworkers in the International Longshore and Warehouse Union (ILWU).

In the letter addressed to Biden and acting Secretary of Labor Julie Su, Suzanne P. Clark, the CEO and president of the Chamber, wrote that the group was “very concerned by the premeditated and disruptive service actions that are slowing operations at several major ports along the West Coast.”

Beginning last week, and continuing through this writing, dockworkers at several West Coast ports have refused to show up to work after it was revealed that the PMA was proposing an across-the-board $1.56 “raise” for dockworkers, well below the rate of inflation. The fury of rank-and-file workers across all three tiers, A, B, and casual, prompted the ILWU, worried that workers would take matters into their own hands, to unofficially authorize job actions that led to the near-shutdown of major ports and terminals.

Dockworkers have been laboring on 29 ports, from Washington to California, without a contract since last July, while the PMA and ILWU have been negotiating in secret for 13 months. These secret negotiations, Andy, a Los Angeles-area dockworker told the WSWS, have left him and his coworkers “frustrated...we don’t know what is going on. We have no say in anything, it is outrageous.”

Commenting on the long hours that dockworkers put in during the pandemic, and the “thanks” they have received so far from the PMA, Andy said, “Me and a lot of other people got over 2,000 hours. We didn’t step out of line, we did everything they asked. The PMA are talking about not giving us enough retroactive pay, that insulting $1.56 pay increase.”

On Friday, June 9, the PMA issued another statement confirming that while job actions had lessened at the Ports of Los Angeles, Long Beach and Oakland, the “Ports of Seattle and Tacoma continue to suffer significant slowdowns as a result of targeted ILWU actions.”

The PMA asserted that the ILWU was refusing to dispatch lashers, leaving ships idle and resulting in “a backup of incoming vessels.”

Terrified at the prospect that these limited actions could spiral into a “serious work stoppage at the ports of Los Angeles and Long Beach” that “would be devastating to...businesses,” Chamber Commerce CEO Clark, on behalf of Wall Street, urged Biden “to appoint an independent mediator to help the parties reach a voluntary agreement.” Clarke wrote that this “step is necessary to avoid potentially billions of dollars in economic damage to the American economy.”

Raising the prospect of invoking the anti-union Taft-Hartley law against dockworkers, and possibly deploying soldiers in the case of a strike, Clarke added that Biden should “consider additional steps that may be necessary in the event of a widespread work stoppage.”

This is the third statement issued by a major big business lobby over the last week calling on Biden to intervene in the dockworker negotiations, on the side of capital. On Monday, representatives from the National Association of Manufacturers and the National Retail Federation also called on the White House to impose a contract on dockworkers.

While Biden himself has not directly commented, his actions last year show that the self-declared most “pro-union” president is more than willing to run roughshod over workers’ democratic rights in order to satiate Wall Street’s unquenchable hunger for profits. Furthermore, high-level officials, in his administration and outside of it, have made clear that the White House has been actively involved in the dockworker negotiations from the outset.

In an interview on CNBC on Thursday, Gene Seroka, the executive director at the Port of Los Angeles, confirmed that the same labor officials who blocked a railroad strike last year, and subsequently dictatorially forced through a rotten pro-company agreement rail workers had already rejected, were again intervening in the contract talks.

“Here’s what’s been happening,” Seroka said. “Acting Labor Secretary Julie Su has been working with both sides, individually and collectively, trying to keep these talks moving.” Su was the deputy labor secretary under Marty Walsh last year during the railroad betrayal.

“Julie and her staff have been working tirelessly, not putting out press releases or coming on TV. They are talking with both sides to keep this progress moving,” Seroka continued, adding, “From the secretary of labor’s seat, this continues to be a top priority.”

While he claimed not to know the exact details, Seroka confirmed that the major conflicts in the contract remain pay and “robotics.” Seroka noted that during the pandemic, “Dockworkers were out on the job six days a week.” The ILWU has confirmed that at least 43 members died of COVID-19, no doubt a significant undercount.

While dockworkers were risking infection and death to move cargo, the companies have pulled in record profits. Shipping giant Maersk, one of several companies represented by the PMA, posted $30.9 billion in profit in 2022. And while shipping rates have declined from their 2021 highs, last month Maesrk still reported a first-quarter profit just under $4 billion.

In interviews with WSWS reporters on Thursday, Los Angeles area dockworkers reflected on the precarious and dangerous character of their work, the hated tier system, which was negotiated in by former ILWU President Harry Bridges in the 1960 Mechanization and Modernization agreement, and the need for dockworkers to unite as a class against the major corporations.

A casual worker said that she has been “a casual for 19 years. I need four more years to make it to Class A. It’s been a long, long time, and we don’t have any rights. My brother is an A man, we were always taught in our family to get union jobs, but things are very tough these days. It’s stressful. I had an accident last month because I had a seizure, which was caused because I was so angry with my boss.”

Commenting on the anti-Asian sentiment that has been whipped up by both big business parties as part of the war drive against China, the dockworker said she was “against all this anti-Asian violence and hate. They are trying to blame Asian people for all the problems, trying to pit worker against worker. We are all facing the same problems.”

A longshoreman who has been a Class A man for 15 years noted that the ILWU along the West Coast had yet to conduct a strike authorization vote nearly a year after the contract expired. “The Canadian longshoremen are having strike authorization votes [Thursday] and Friday. That’s important because the PMA was trying to use the Canadian access from their ports to railways to Chicago and back East to reroute shipping since West Coast longshore have been carrying out job actions here.”

Commenting on the miserly $1.56 raise, a pay cut in real terms, given that inflation in California is over 7 percent, he said, “For us here, I wasn’t happy about that tiny raise the PMA is offering us.”

In a message to other dockworkers, Andy warned about the ongoing conspiracy between Biden, the ILWU and the PMA. “They are all just oligarchs. Biden is doing the same thing Trump would do. The same thing George Bush would do.”

“It really is an international struggle,” he added, “That’s why the internationalism is so important. I mean if me, and all the other dockworkers in the world, got together and decided we weren’t going to move cargo until our demands were met? That would be amazing.”

The fight to link up workers in a joint struggle against the major international carriers requires the development of rank-and-file committees, controlled by the workers and independent of the ILWU union bureaucracy.

Workers cannot let the initiative remain in the hands of the ruling class and its state! It is urgent that workers begin communicating among themselves and coordinating actions to counter the conspiracy between the companies and the Biden administration, assisted by the union apparatus.

#joe biden #class war #strike action

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