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k-hotchoisan · 6 months

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hii it’s me again with another request (sorry)

Could you write smtg based off the song agora hills by doja cat? whatever member u prefer is fine 💕💕

anywayssss i love you smmm and u are an amazing person!! 💕💕🤭🧎‍♀️

omg that is such a cute song (if you squint hard enough past the public sex HAHAHAH)

Please never apologise for coming back for a request, you know I’ll always welcome you with open arms 🥰

Always thank you for being so sweet vic (if it’s okay to call you that~) and for giving me inspiration + pushing me write out of my boundaries. I genuinely appreciate it.

AND I LOVE YOU TOO 🗣️🩷😭

Where you and Seonghwa have a fight before his Grand Prix finals, but he still wins, and loses his fucking mind when he sees you still cheering for him despite that.

Genre/Warnings: racer au, smut, semi public sex, you fuck Seonghwa in his racer gear, IF YOU SQUINT HARD ENOUGH THERES LIKE ANGST (it isn’t heavy don’t worry), creampies, mild dacryphilla, unprotected sex, sweaty sex

You storm past your partner into the hotel room, trying to let the anger dissipate. Seonghwa is trying to get to you, explaining what you saw. You know that it couldn’t be helped, but feel the thorns prickling your heart when you couldn’t even approach him when you caught one of his overly zealous and nepotistic fans with her hands over him during the after party. Nothing much could done because;

a. He couldn’t do anything about it because the relationship between the both of you had to be kept a secret, his management did not like the thought of entertaining Seonghwa in a relationship when his career is at his peak;

b. The Grand Prix finale was tomorrow. A lot of stakes were in place, and Seonghwa knew better than to fuck it up, especially when he’s worked so hard to get where he is now. He’s so close.

He’s also so fucking close to just wanting to let the world know how possessive he is over you.

“You know it’s not like that right?” and he goes on and on. You know that it’s part of his job—to network, get more sponsors, even if it meant letting other women get a little too close to him. You understand, you do, but oh god, it gets so fucking exhausting. You just wanted time for yourself to clear your head and process the whole thing, and potentially stabbing that nepo baby at least sixty times in your head.

Your arms are crossed. Arguing with him is the last thing you want to do right now, especially when the both of you barely escaped getting caught sneaking into his hotel room. All that for a fight to erupt between the both of you after a long and tense day on the track. You glare at him with a pout.

“I’m going home.”

Seonghwa whips his head so fucking fast, his eyes piercing right into you. He looks absolutely dumbfounded.

“Are you serious?”

You nod. “I’m sorry that I overreacted, but now, I’m not risking us getting caught when tomorrow’s the finals.”

Seonghwa wants to fucking pounce and cage you in. Before he even attempts to deflect your words, you cut him off-

“-and especially when you’re not the one dating someone who needs to keep a relationship a secret.” You sigh. “Please get some rest, Hwa.”

You pull the hotel door open, and leave promptly. Seonghwa stands there, his brows furrowed as frustration bleeds into him. He wants to so badly chase after you, but he knows you wouldn’t let him, not when there could be a chance to risk getting caught by anyone from his team.

As the cab pulls away further from the hotel, your phone is spammed by Seonghwa, and he’s explaining himself. You purse your lips, reading over his texts, but you only decide to reply a curt reiteration of what you told him earlier at his hotel room, and a “love you”, before unlocking your door to finally wash up.

A ping of guilt courses through you—you know you shouldn’t misunderstand or be jealous, but if anything, it was but how it made you feel, and it wasn’t pretty. You didn’t mean to show a perturbed expression when his eyes glanced at you after he barely managed to shake his little fan girl off him, but it was just automatic. And if anything, Seonghwa is just as possessive as you are, if not worse, especially when he sent death glares to your direction when another male had approached you, and periodically touched you up on your arms, which kind of caused the argument to even start in the first place.

Your eyes flutter close, exhausted, as sleep drags you in deeper, the last thing in your mind being Seonghwa.

The morning sun leaks through the windows of Seonghwa’s room. He’s already up, albeit half awake, getting ready for another whole day of racing. His mind was set on going all out for the finals, but something still remains at the back of his mind, and he doesn’t want to push it away. He thinks to himself, he wants to do it for you.

You only send Seonghwa a short text of encouragement, and he doesn’t reply. Then again, he is wrapped up with interviews over interviews, training and the finale would only start when dusk sets. You don a body con dress, paired with one of Seonghwa’s racer jackets you stole, might as well surprise him a little bit.

On the cab to the event, Seonghwa’s gorgeous face is plastered all over the Grand Prix news, as one of the rising stars. He looks absolutely stunning, no doubt, and it gets your heart racing too because you cannot believe he’s yours.

You take a seat amongst the noisy crowd around you. The atmosphere was getting really riled up, especially when the racers all appear on the big screen as they walk back stage to their cars. Your eyes are glued to the screen as Seonghwa appears in his racing gear, and he winks at the camera, a slew of fangirl screams burst around you, and you cover your mouth to suppress a giggle. All the hard feelings the night before faded off, and you heart felt full yet anxious for Seonghwa.

It takes awhile for the warm up and safety check to be cleared, but before you knew it, the checkered flags are raised and lights turned green, cheers roar across the tracks as the loud screeches of the cars overpower them.

Throughout the laps, Seonghwa falls in between 3rd and 4th place, you bite your lip, praying that he’s able to catch up. As the laps close in to its final rounds, Seonghwa slowly climbs up the position to first, and he maintains, amazingly. The night continues to burn with anticipation as the final lap commences, with Seonghwa neck to neck with another racer, switching between first and second.

The final corner becomes the make or break—as Seonghwa drifts, effectively overtaking just slightly before fully taking the spot for first.

And he speeds into the finishing line, winning championship.

You jump from your seat, your fingers clasped from the tension as the announcer is proclaiming Seonghwa’s win, and the screen flashes his winning race in slow motion. Your heart is pounding in your ears as the screams are blocked out. You are so proud that nothing leaves your lips as you fight the tears from falling as you clap. The screen flickers to the car cam, and you see Seonghwa pumping his fist in victory as he rides through another victory lap.

The barricade has fans screaming Seonghwa’s name as he leaves the car and pulls his helmet off. He looks so fucking amazing even when he’s sweaty, and you can’t help but feel your heart skip a beat. You decide not to squeeze with the fans near the barricade, opting to stand further away.

Well, now where does this relationship go? He’ll probably be even further from you now.

A huge group of reporters swarm him, and he looks overwhelmed, that is until his eyes scan the crowd and lands on you, just when you’re ready to turn to leave.

Seonghwa’s heart skips a beat, his eyes are only tunnelling you as he pushes past the crowd, jumping past the barricade to where you are. You have a small smile on your face because you know he deserves all of this.

A tight grip on your hand halts you in your tracks, shocking you, as you turn around with wide and confused eyes. He pulls his goggles off. Before you could even process it, Seonghwa has his jacket that you’re wearing in his fist as his hands travel up cup your jaw—and he pulls you in for a deep kiss.

Your eyes shut as the kiss scatters fireworks beneath your eyelids, with Seonghwa’s lips right pressing against yours. Your mind is fuzzy, as your ears blocks out the loud screams of his fans. He pulls back after what feels like an eternity, before bowing politely at the group of fans and reporters in front of him as he leads you away.

From the circuit track to his hotel room, he never once let go of your hand, probably only gripping it tighter the closer he got to his room. He doesn’t say a damn thing either, probably because he still has the adrenaline pumping in his veins. Nonetheless, you still can’t tell what he’s thinking, and you’re wondering if he’s still upset.

At least not until the moment the door closes behind you.

Because he turns his heels right at you as devours your lips, not letting go at all, even as peels off his jacket, then yours.

He finally pulls back, giving you a breather. His eyes look absolutely wild as he tugs his jacket off you, exposing the way your dress hugs your curves, and his breathing becomes heavier.

“Fuckin hell. You don’t know how much it drives me insane when you’re wearing my jacket over something fuckin slutty like this. Fuck,” he groans, kicking his shoes off. You stare at him breathlessly as you remove your shoes as well, but your gaze never leaving how Seonghwa looks so fucking good with a compression shirt on—the way it hugs his biceps, the way it pulls taut against his chest and abdomen, the gorgeous bounce of his fucking tits every time he shifts his arms. He doesn’t remove his top before pulling you right back into his arms, his hands snaking up to grab your braless tits, which makes him groan again.

“Fuck, you’re not even wearing a bra. Are you fucking kidding me?” His erection presses hard against your thigh, and you’re working through your brain to find and answer amidst being trapped by pleasure. “And where did you think you were running to, looking like that?”

“N-nowhere! I thought you’d be caught up with the report-“ he cuts you off with another hungry kiss. God, he’s so desperate that you can’t help feel the heat pool between your legs. It doesn’t help that he had pulled your dress down past your chest, and his hands are all over your tits, sending sparks down your your spine, right to your pussy. Seonghwa pulls away once more, licking the string of spit that connected the both of you.

Seonghwa hums. “Mmm. Shouldn’t have asked. I’d still fuck you dumb anyway.” Your grip on his arm tightens. His fingers snake under your dress, tugging on your panties as he pulls the pair down, and pockets the pair of panties. The wet patch of slick doesn’t go unnoticed by him. His gaze locks onto yours as he makes sure you watch him cover his fingers with spit before his fingers head south. His fingers meet your slick that covered your cunt and scoffs.

“You’re already so fucking wet already”. He doesn’t give you a chance to answer as his fingers begin rubbing your clit. You lean forward and sigh as you use his shoulder to lean your head on. He lets you for a moment, adoring the way you’re beginning to squirm underneath him. Then he’s grabbing your waist and then dumping you right on the couch, pushing your legs open for him. Your cunt glistens with slick right for him, and Seonghwa is more than ready to dive in, giving a lick before fully immersing his tongue right into your sex, flicking his tongue against your clit, his hands squeezing your thighs. Your fingers are tangled in his hair and your head is thrown back as you tug his slicked back hair. If you weren’t seeing stars, you’d be seeing the fucking heavens.

Seonghwa hits a pace where you’re beginning to see white spots beneath your eyelids and the knot tugs hard in your stomach. Your thighs contract immediately, but Seonghwa keeps them apart, because he knows that’s the sweet spot. He knows it makes you tingle and it gets him so fucking excited. His tongue works even quicker on your clit and your orgasm builds so fucking quick and your whines climb up in octave, music to Seonghwa’s ears.

“There, there. Oh fuck. I’m cumming. Oh my fucking god”, leaving your lips like a mantra, alongside more whines of his name as your orgasm tingles through your body in waves. His tongue presses against your clit and he sucks on your clit, causing you to jolt, tears already streaking from the overstimulation. Seonghwa’s moaning in your wet cunt, making sure he devours every part of your orgasm as his ego inflates. A broken cry leaves your lips as you release his locks, your hands slumping against the couch. Seonghwa presses a wet kiss against your cunt with a smile. He wipes his lips with the back of his hand as he towers over you, his erection staining his pants already. Oh god, you love the way your arousal is all over his plump lips nonetheless. He was made for eating you out. He leans in for another ravenous kiss—and he swears he can never get enough of it. Before you realise it, your dress is pulled back up past your tits.

His fingers gently intertwine with yours as he pulls you up, and leads you to-

“The balcony?” You question, your heart hammering in your chest. Seonghwa cracks a smile as he leans in.

“Yeah. I wanna show the world my girl. I’ll fuck you so good that I’ll make sure the world knows.”

“But-“

“It’ll be fine. I’m serious. We’re so high up and we’re clothed, well kind of ”, he comforts. You bite your lip, because fuck, it was definitely exhilarating to be fucked on the balcony. You wanted the world to know that he’s yours too and the thought of it only heats you up even more.

He leads you the beach chair at the side, where he makes you sit and hang your legs on either side of the arm rests, and he’s about to remove his compression top but your hands stop his before you realise it. He looks at you, concern flashes over his face for brief second.

“Fuck me with your racer gear on.”, you blurt out, curling your fingers against the taut fabric. Seonghwa’s expression immediately switches over to one of a smirk. “What have you been fantasising about, darling?” He pokes, looming over you with a cocky smile.

You can’t escape, the only thing that does is a small whimper. Seonghwa doesn’t push for an answer, because he’s busy yanking his pants down past his thighs, and his cock springs out, hitting his lower abdomen. He sighs as he gives his fat cock a couple of pumps while looking at you with your legs spread wide open for him, your pussy just salivating at the thought of him pounding into you into the next week.

He lines himself to your entrance and doesn’t warn you before he enters, and a squeal leaves your lips, then a soft cry as he pushes more inches into you—every inch going thicker and thicker as he goes down to the base, until he’s snug in your cunt.

“That’s my good girl. Warm and wet, just how I like it”, he whispers into your ears, as he strokes your thighs gently. More sobs leave you, your fingers pressing onto Seonghwa’s arms.

Just when you thought you couldn’t fit any more of Seonghwa, the sudden thought of him right now, fucking you in his uniform somehow swallowed more of his cock, earning you the most gorgeous moan from Seonghwa as his eyes roll back and his eyebrows scrunched.

“Baby-fuck!-just what are you thinking about? Squeezing me like this? Oh god”, his knuckles are whitening from his grip on the arm rest. He pulls out before starting a pace to fuck you with, and soon enough it’s only the sounds of skin slapping, both of your moans and the feeling of Seonghwa’s cock just pounding right into the perfect angle of your cunt that exists in this damn universe. You wouldn’t ask for more.

Your brain was becoming pulp, only soft sobs every time Seonghwa’s balls deep into you. You could only focus on how his biceps tensed against the fabric as his tits fucking bounced every time his slams his cock into you—which you definitely see it too—the way his pants hang just at his lower thighs, and his cock is just disappearing into your pussy, drawing out squelching sounds that were borderline obscene. Drops of sweat splatter onto your dress as he leans in to rest his forehead onto yours.

“So good. So fucking good to be inside you like this”, he curses, trying to not the feeling of his orgasm overpower him. As you were gradually losing yourself to the pleasure, he suddenly pulls back completely, and instructs you to face the night scenery with your ass out. He crumpled your dress to your waist, and his cock enters you again, causing you to draw a sharp breath. He doesn’t let you adjust—he just starts fucking you raw like that, leaving your mouth agape and eyes blown out from the pleasure.

He’s able to reach even deeper part of your pussy now, and he makes sure you fucking cry for him. “H-Hwa!”, you try to speak in between sobs. “Oh god, oh god. I can’t. It’s so deep.” Your hands barely have the strength to hold onto the rails as he is railing you from behind.

“That’s my pussy. Milk me dry baby”, Seonghwa grunts, his fucking becoming more erratic, admiring the way your ass bounces off his cock so naturally. “I’m cumming all the way in baby. Be a good girl and take it, yeah?”

And a drawn out moan fills your ears as his cum floods your abused hole, and you cry out as your second orgasm hits you, clenching his cock even more. A loud slap reverberates into the night as his hand lands on your ass, causing you to flinch and squeal.

“That’s it, baby. Oh, you’re such a good girl”, he hums, holding your hips as far as his cock would let him drive into you, letting cum dribble down your inner thighs. He pulls out slowly, admiring the way your cunt convulses, small loads of his cum and yours leak out of you. You release your grip from the railings and fall right into his arms, as he plants a loving kiss on your temple before whispering,

“I promise you’re the only one for me, baby.”

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez smut #smut #ateez fic #kpop smut #kpop fics #ateez seonghwa #y/n x seonghwa #seonghwa smut #park seonghwa #seonghwa

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transmutationisms · 2 months

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Feel free not to answer this ask so you dont have to step into this particular hornet's nest but do you have any thoughts about people sharing inaccurate science about COVID in order to push for more COVID regulations? I agree that COVID is being neglected and we need better policies but I'm also a biochemist so it pisses me off to see people cite research in a way that makes exaggerated and terrifying claims. Two years ago, I was warning my colleagues against this condescending "just trust the science" approach but now the same crowd pushing that has shifted to pushing "don't trust any of the positive science, only my catastrophic interpretations of it". Can't we mask without also trying to convince each other that COVID is a guaranteed one way ticket to death and permanent disability?

you must be new here haha i swing bats at this hornet's nest like once a month. yeah i think the current state of covid communication sucks a lot. i mean the truth is that "follow the science" is always a disingenuous sentiment; Science doesn't speak, and scientists disagree with one another. and it's naïve to pretend majority consensus is a reliable mechanism to identify truth—anyone who has followed the covid aerosolisation about-face will recall that although linsey marr was not the first researcher to challenge medical orthodoxy on airborne disease transmission, even well into the covid pandemic the idea of aerosol transmission was marginalised by global health authorities because it was politically inconvenient, out of favour with powerful established academics, and reminiscent to some of pre-pasteurian miasma theories of disease. those who would "follow the science" were not presented with a convenient dichotomy between reasonable evidence-backed expert consensus and fringe peddlers of heterodoxy; to evaluate these positions required actually, yknow, reading and evaluating the arguments and evidence from multiple competing positions, and deciding which had the greater explanatory power. which is good epistemological advice only insofar as it's so obvious as to be trite.

fundamentally a huge driving force of this situation is the social, political, and institutional forces that make expert knowledge (a generally good thing) all too often synonymous with inaccessible knowledge. i don't mean inaccessibility caused by knowledge being specialised; obviously this is inevitable to some extent simply as a result of the fact that no one person will grasp the entirety of human knowledge. but the fact that knowledge is specialised, specific, highly technical, and so forth doesn't automatically mean, for example, that it has to be monetarily gatekept from all but a select few with the resources to persevere through a highly punishing, nepotistic, hegemonic university system; this is a political problem, and one that additionally has the effect of enabling and sheltering low-quality work (see: replication crisis) behind the opaque walls of university bureaucracy and the imprimateur of the credentials it grants. in lieu of an ability to actually engage with, read, or challenge much of the academic research being generated on any given topic, the lay public is supposed to rely on signs of reliability like possession of a degree, or institutional reputation. what we in fact see again and again, and with particularly high stakes in the case of something like a pandemic, is that these measures are instruments of class stratification and professional jockeying that don't inherently ensure quality information: MDs can and do peddle anti-vaxx lies and covid / long-covid denialism; the CDC and WHO can and do perpetrate bad and outdated scientific advice, like that masks are unnecessary and isolation periods can be shortened for convenience. many of these are just blatant cases of kowtowing to political pressure, which arises from the capitalist logic that counterposes disease prevention to economic growth.

this all leaves us in a position where it is, in fact, smart and correct to evaluate the information coming from 'official' and credentialled sources with scepticism. the problem is that in its place, we get information coming out of the same capitalist state-sponsored scientific institutions, and the same colonialist universities; the idea that some chucklefuck on twitter is telling you the secret truth just because they correctly identified that the government sucks is plainly absurd. where covid specifically is concerned, the liberalism of academic and scientific institutions is on display in numerous ways, including the idealist assumption, which many 'covid communicators' make, that public health policy is primarily a matter of swaying public opinion, and therefore that it is always morally imperative to form and propagate the most alarmist possible interpretation of any study or empirical observation. this is not an attitude that encourages thoughtful or measured evaluation of The Science (eg, study methodology), nor is it one that actually produces the kind of political change that would be required to protect the populace writ large from what is, indeed, a dangerous and still rampant virus. instead, this form of communication mostly winds up generating social media Engagement and screenshots of headlines of summaries of studies.

meanwhile, actual public health policy (which is by and large determined at the mercy of capitalist state interests, and which by and large shapes public opinion of what mitigation measures are 'reasonable', despite the CDC repeatedly pretending this works the other way round), remains on its trajectory toward lax, open exposure of anyone and everyone to each new strain of covid, perpetuating a society that is profoundly hostile to disabled people and careless with everyone's life and health. this fucking sucks. it sucked that we have treated the flu like this for years, and it sucks that we are now doing it with a virus that we are still relatively immunologically naïve to, and that produces, statistically, even more death and disability than the flu. and it sucks that the predominating explanations of this state of affairs from the 'cautious' emphasise not the structural forces that shape knowledge production under capitalism, but instead invoke a psychological narrative whereby individuals simply need to be sufficiently terrified into producing mass action.

#michael hoerger hate blog #covid

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antianakin · 2 months

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@theneutralmime

I think it's a little bit more complicated than this, actually, especially in ROTS.

At the beginning, sure, the Jedi trust him just fine. But the moment Anakin decides to take Palpatine's nepotistic offer to place him on the Council behind the Council's backs and without their approval, specifically so he can be Palpatine's "eyes and ears" on the Council, and then throws a temper tantrum about them not making him a Master to assert what little agency they've been left in this situation, Anakin loses some of their trust in him. And justifiably so, in my opinion.

They ask him to spy on Palpatine, at least in part, AS A TEST to see where Anakin's loyalties actually lie, whether it's with Palpatine or with the Jedi. I think they WANT to trust him and they give him this task in part also because there isn't anybody else who COULD get them this information, but Anakin has now made a choice that looks really suspicious, especially given that we know the Jedi Council at this point see Palpatine as power hungry and corrupt to the point that they're literally planning treason against him soon. Anakin being Palpatine's personal plant on the Council DOES NOT LOOK GOOD for Anakin. Especially since Anakin doesn't come to it like, "I know this isn't how this is meant to be done, and I haven't earned this position, and he shouldn't be doing this, but none of us are being given much of a choice in this and perhaps this way I can be something of a double agent in the Council's relationship with Palpatine." There's NO recognition of how wrong Palpatine is for taking advantage of his power this way, NO recognition of how Palpatine is clearly using him to spy on the Council or indignation and anger at that even if he did, NO humility and modesty on Anakin's part.

So when, a couple of scenes later, Mace Windu literally says "I don't trust him" when speaking to Obi-Wan and Yoda about Anakin and his assignment to spy on Palpatine, there's a lot of good reason for Mace NOT to trust Anakin at this point, especially with this particular relationship. It's why he tells Anakin that he has "earned his trust" when Anakin comes to tell them about Palpatine being a Sith because, to Mace's mind, it means Anakin passed that test of his loyalties.

In the context of just the films, we know that in AOTC, Mace was defending Dooku against accusations of being a traitor and was proven WILDLY wrong about that. If we take TCW into account, then both Pong Krell and Barriss Offee have also managed to con the Council into trusting them before committing treason and violence against the Jedi and other innocents. So Mace at this point has quite a few examples that he cannot intrinsically trust fellow Jedi simply because they're Jedi and he has to really look more closely at their actions and choices to determine whether he can trust them or not, which makes it a lot more justifiable and more sympathetic that Mace looks at Anakin's choices in ROTS and begins to doubt him and his loyalty.

And the ultimate tragedy is that Mace was RIGHT, not just because of Anakin's choices regarding his Council position, but because of what we know he chooses to do later. Anakin ISN'T trustworthy, he literally kills Mace and betrays the Jedi and storms the Temple and murders their younglings mere hours (at most) after he goes to Mace to reveal the information about Palpatine being a Sith.

So the evidence I have had tossed at me most often by people who claim the Jedi never trusted Anakin is that quote of Mace's where he does explicitly state "I don't trust him." But they will take that one character stated HIS OPINION about this very specific situation and expand that to try to claim that this is proof that Mace never trusted Anakin EVER, or that the COUNCIL never trusted Anakin ever, or even that NO JEDI IN THE ENTIRE ORDER ever trusted Anakin. And this is ridiculous even within just the context of the films, but it becomes even MORE ludicrous when taken in context with TCW where we see him fight perfectly happily alongside multiple other Jedi, we see other Jedi express positive feelings about Anakin, where the Jedi literally trust him with the guidance and protection of one of their CHILDREN. The Jedi are showing their trust in him ALL THE TIME, so Mace's comment about not trusting him in ROTS comes with some very specific context and is only truly applicable to him and also he's fucking RIGHT not to trust Anakin here anyway.

So yeah, don't trust the Stanakins when they say the Jedi didn't trust Anakin, they're just being stupid about it, and even if the Jedi DIDN'T trust Anakin, Anakin's not exactly trustworthy anyway, so who cares.

#star wars #mace windu #pro jedi #jedi #revenge of the sith #rots #anakin skywalker critical #anakin critical #anti anakin skywalker #anti anakin

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1eoness · 6 months

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uhmmmm actor leon kennedy?? mayvbe

[to clarify, i am a minor (17). anyone <17 and anyone >17 uncomfortable with interacting pls dni}

a/n bc i love rambling : so uhmmm when i was writing this there was an electric explosion right outside of our house so the power's out in our neighborhood and im back in this damn cafe LMAOOO

a/n : (update lol)i wrote this like monthssss ago (wtf this sucks).. so im back nd im gonna post this bc why the fuck not it's still rllyyyy bad and a lot of word repeating but yeah just felt like posting lol

synopsis : actor!leon kennedy has been in the gig too long to deal with nepotistic, wide-eyed girls like you. yet much to his exasperation, you're just too much of a greenhorn in the showbiz world.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -you can fucking skip this part idc- ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

you've only ever heard his name maybe once or twice in one of the magazines in your mother's bar. you must've read it over and over again, having to see his name and face habitually to endure the excruciating hours of working behind the bar with your phone in a locker. you weren't particularly enthusiastic about films or Hollywood or WASP families, either. but it was better than nothing.

it started like this. you were wiping the cedarwood slab that dewed with beer, when the woman who sat across you (having drunk maybe 4 pints) reached over with her veiny, grisly hands. the acrylics tapped at your temples when she held your awkward face.

said "woman" was your aunt who just got back from monaco. and she's been urging you to work with Pierce. whoever that was.

you were well content with the life you had right now. but sometimes—often in front of your vanity— you did find yourself fantasizing about the 'big city'. you caught yourself in a cliche dream but the idea was invigorating, the mere machinations of those opportunities dangled above your eyes like meat on a stick.

"..oh, but.. i don't think it's practical, you know?" you excused as you dismissed the billowing thoughts in your head. even if you had the physical assets that aligned with the director's vision, it would still feel wrong. some people go to literal schools for this stuff, don't they?

but she remained persistent. and after a low, lighthearted sigh, she continued her persuasion. "..y/n, you're a diamond in the rough." your aunt neared you, holding your hands together in a friendly hold. "..let me make it a reality for you."

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -♡- ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

so. were you a natural? hell no.

you're wearing a costume that you can't even touch without the stylists getting mad at you. you got harped on and poked at for so long you were starting to get a migraine. the studio refused to let up on you, jabbing at you passive aggressively until you curled like a millipede. honestly, you were more pissed than sad!

and leon? god, he was a total fucking hottie. and he was totally cold.

the director announced an hour break to everyone just before they'd jump straight to the next scene. you remained sat on one of the props, hands clasped on your lap, contemplating the choices you've made over for the 7th time today. you were fidgeting like you were anxious. you forgot how breaks felt. the luxury was there, five star hotels, velvet cushions and robes and office gossip and dinners with imported wine and cheese. but it felt like hell. working with leon was the only thing that made it even ten percent worth everything, but even he doesn't seem to like you. why was everyone so mean? fucking fair enough, you were beginning to hate this place so much you might ask for a cigarette yourself.

the petrichor mellowed through the film set, nibbling her skin with chill. nights in raccoon are cold, you needed to keep mind of that in case you decide to open your front door without a jacket. the alleyways were diffused by vapor lighting and LED signs. you also had another superficial thought. what do people on set usually do when they're on break?

you whip your head up, legs swinging slightly as you scanned the area. most of them are either adjusting equipment, going through script, or smoking one. you turned your head to your right without expecting much.

you saw leon leaning against the wall, next to the director, sharing smoke (you're beginning to see this is a trend) and cheap laughs. you were mildly surprised, not realizing they were both adjacent behind you, and you felt goosebumps rise when your eyes landed on leon. you quickly looked forward again. you didn't want to move away.

you missed leon's subtle smirk to himself when his gaze flicked to the crown of your hair. he took a puff of his stick, still sounding like he was talking to the man beside him. his eyes didn't leave you and the way you sat there like you were going to spend the remainder of your break spacing out.

leon's voice was nonchalant behind you. to you, it was faint chatter. "...life will chew you up and spit you back out before too long, but that's..."

...

was he talking to you?

leon wasn't too nice on you while you guys were on set, but he wasn't so directly mean either—emphasis on directly.

he's earned word of you from both your aunt and the director, obviously. he doesn't look like the type, but sometimes he has a knack for gossip. that's just how the nature of stardom works, doesn't it? name number #1 did this that tto name number #2, someone divorced someone, someone slept with someone—and the whole world goes aflame. he could care less about where you came from, why you're really here or who you were connected to. but something about you was thought-provoking. contrasting you, he worked for where he was. you just sat there looking pretty and snagged the role right away. maybe that sort of incompetency and oblivious audacity made you stand out from the rest. he found it pathetically attractive. you're an artless girl.

your head swiveled over your shoulder, looking behind and up at leon.

leon's eyes met your gaze halfway. "aww. is this your first big time acting gig, baby? no need to be nervous, it'll be alright." a tinge of mockery sweetened the husk of his voice. the director, who you now know is 'pierce', snickered at leon's subtle sarcasm.

the director tells him he's going to announce everyone to continue, since he wanted the rain to 'sex things up'. heaven's dew tapped lightly on the concrete as the director mounted his back off the vandalized walls, leaving you and leon alone in the same space. oh god.

for a minute you sat there quietly, letting the tension sink in upon the director leaving. you tentatively take another glance at leon. he wasn't looking at you anymore, and his hands were out his pockets as he swipes the little box open. soft brown tufts wisped when he shook his head to get the rain off his hair.

you got off the table. you walked to leon. you'd say your feet were moving on its own.

his head shifts to your direction. his bangs falling over his face. a gust of wind breezes by, and he smells deep, musky. like cardamom. cedarwood.

" if anyone's givin' you trouble on set..." leon looks down as he slips a cigarette in his mouth, rummaging in his pocket for his lighter. "you come to leon... 'kay?"

his hush voice was honeyed whiskey when it wooed at you, applying simple emphasis to his two-syllable name. leon, leon, how that name would sound in bed. there's a slight tease to his eyes, before diverting his attention to his cigarette, casting an orange glow in his palms when he flicks the lighter on with his thumb. his presence was prodding, inviting you with every inch of his body language. this man was blazing and you were a fucking moth.

he likes the way you're looking at him right now. your eyes are batting at every subtle sculpt of him. you can look away but he knows you're still thinking about him.

such a sweet thing, this one.

he decides to be 'friendlier', pitying the fact that you're obviously having a hard time socializing with the crew. "what's your favorite movie, doll?"

"mm.. i liked kill bill. and pulp fiction." you converse casually.

a name rolls off his tongue. "quentin tarantino." he nodded in what seemed like approval, watching a puddle.

you blink. "what?"

he glances at you and he doesn't reply, before leaving that wall all to yourself.

...

leon's tongue trickles with the taste of vouvray. you were art in the shadows, the honey lighting of the dimmed lamp doing nothing to illuminate leon's hotel room. your lips are glossed with his saliva, evidence of your breath went after he made out with you.

you're barely holding it, all while his big hands purchased at your flesh, drinking in the way you straddled his boner. the subtle friction where you were able to feel how big he really is intimidated you, blooming excited butterflies, your stomach fluttering at each soft push of your hips. you watched with your palms flat on his stomach, the soaked fabric of your panties collecting and staining all over his boxers as you stifled a needy whimper. "y'need it now, baby? oh, don't go soft on me now... i'll take care of you, just tell me."

his pretty baby, sitting on him and too shy to plead from the big shot. leon's hands languidly travel your skin, palms massaging up your sides. "...i-i wan' it.. i want you.. please.." you murmured hazily, leaning down to give him a soft kiss to compensate for the bashfulness that rode over your speech.

"is that right, sweetheart?" he bit his lip gently at the teasing sight, loving the way you sounded needier by the minute. "oh, baby, go on. it's all yours, yeah?.." he crooned, patting your thigh gently.

"easy, baby.. oh, there you go.. atta girl.." he groans prettily when he's muttering you through it, eyes delectably gazing at the way you sink on his length. it was cute to him seeing you not knowing what to do with your hands. but he watches you settle them on his built torso, and he could only look at you in adoration. god, he was so fucking thick and you were so highly strung..

leon's touch stroke at your knees. you aren't moving, and he looks almost amused seeing you try to render just how he feels inside you. "i can't.." he heard you murmur before you giggled quietly, to which made him chuckle as well. but the flustered laughter dies down. the actor groans, feeling your fluttering grip around his cock, making it his instinct to hold onto your waist.

it didn't take long before you started getting loud. your arousal lathered up and everytime you pump down a creamy squelch. "mhmmm... uhh, keep going.." leon whispers, and his eyes stared at where your bodies met. you could hear a soft whimper from him—vocally begging your sweet little self to go faster.

leon watches you trying to change the speed. poor girl, you looked like you were already starting to ragdoll. you resisted stopping, unable to with the way he'd rub into the right spots. leon took your small, depleted whine as a sign for him to initiate. he was just letting you have your fun. just until you'd get a bit frustrated. by this time he'd already lit another cigarette and the stick perches between his lips.

"..tiring, ain't it, sweetheart?" leon coos, feigning pity for you, fingers clutched at your hips like its his favorite thing to hold. he started to thrust up into your sopping little cunt, pulling a weak mewl out of you. there might be nothing he loves more than watching your supple frame as it bounces atop him.

"mmm.. aww 's okay, baby.. leon's got you.. mhm, that's right." he responds to every quaint sob you make. his stamina was stubborn as he gradually shifted his pace.

"nice and quiet, baby... don't want th't fucker 'pierce hearin' you..." leon almost feels like a sick fuck, pretty lips grinning slightly as he moans. "god, fuuuuck... mmmhh... uh- f-fuck!" leon almost whines before giving you a harsh thrust, as if he were desperately trying to make you his cocksleeve. if you were going to take it so well then you shouldn't be surprised at how he's gonna force you down, and keep you in place while he sluts you out.

you're murmuring something, and the words fall like blabber to his ears.

leon smiles endearingly, as if he isn't fucking you stupid right now. "mhhh.. wanna cum? you wanna cum?" leon asks as he tries to make sense of what you're saying.

and you gulp, gasping through your watering voice. "w-wanna cumm.. give it t'me-"

he tries not to laugh.

"c'mon, let me make you cum... i'll make it feel good.." leon murmurs before you could feel him pound into you, a whine dripping like syrup from your voice. your body barely keeps up. you feel tight and it's making leon's head tilt back a bit. "oh, there you go, sweetheart... atta girl.." he mumbles hazily as his mind starts to get messy.

"like that? uhuh? mmmh?~" leon moans back almost mockingly at each pleasured whine that spilled your voice. you're mindlessly pawing at whatever you can reach on leon, turning him on with your helplessness. "takin' me nice and well-..." he growls as he starts to piston up into your cunt brutally. you look cuter when you're stuffed with leon's thickness, when you're crying on what you begged for.

"leon, c-cumming" you lolled out in a low moan, head leaning slightly. "i'm gonna cum.."

he responds with a groan, hips rocking upward as he feels you clenching around him. "go on, baby, give it to me. 'm right here,"

he has you shuddering when you cum, the vibrating sensation jolting to your brain as it reeled in pleasure. it takes a few shallow thrusts to keep you satisfied but it's hard to tell when you're already sniffling and twitching on top of him. you wipe your face as you draw a few breaths. leon reaches to warmly take your wrist, thumb pressing onto your skin, feeling your heartbeat.

he watches you gather your bearings before generously caressing your hair once. you help yourself off leon's shaft and a heavy-sounding breathe escapes him in wonder.

leon whispers something once he leans into you and chucks his half-dead cigarette into the ashtray. "c'mere.." his one arm tucked around your back and eventually the other to your leg as he makes you lie down. he treats you with some sort of delicacy, at least until he doesn't.

leon tugs you closer with his arm hooked loosely under your knee, pulling your princess body in for a few intimate kisses to calm the both of you. he tastes mildly bitter. you hummed in his mouth when your lips lock together, eyes fluttering while you felt weak. leon starts muttering as he asks if anything hurts, if you're okay, if you're gonna stay here for the night. for a moment he doesn't say anything and he's just gazing down at you languorously while he breathes. he kisses one of your eyelids before he shifts.

maybe leon liked you better like this, on your fours, limping against the satin bedding as you cried and panted in a way that seemed like suffocation. his thick fingers tug at your hair once, your only teary view being the couch and the TV that dimly mirrored a reflection of you being held down be leon as he rammed into your dribbling hole tenderly. your legs occasionally kicking up against him, hitting him with your ankles as you found it hard to not writhe. he watches you peek over your shoulder, the expression in your eyes instigating struggle. "what?" leon tugs at your hair again, fighting the toothy smile from his face as he fucked you brainless. "didn't think i could make a whore out of you?"

leon lets go of your hair to rut into you with urgency. the bed was starting to jut out small squeaks from leon's rhythm. he leans closer, chewing on his lip as his eyes narrowed in pleasure. a soft growl emanates from behind you, skin on skin, breathing near your ear. the rough hands that were once planted near yours on the mattress start to grip your forearms like handles. he watches your back contort.

you jolt up as leon yielded you to his body, impaling you with his girth in a routinely fashion, urging you to cry louder. "oh, baby.." he whimpers lowly as he starts to feel himself lose control again.

"fuck, i can't.." you wail out, head hanging low briefly. he notices.

"ready to pass out, honey?" he pants softly.

you weakly shook your head.

"good girl." leon bit his bottom lip, whispering out a needy 'fuck' as he slammed into you while pulling you back. he felt satisfied by the way you yelped. his brows furrow, expression tainted with a lustful and crude color as he almost began to drool. brown strands started to get in the way of his vision. his breath is suddenly hitched, water lining his eyes as his voice turned up a note. he hisses, head tilting to the side. "fuck, fuck,-" his gruff words start to match with his thrusts. "take it- all-, yes, baby, that's a good- fucking- mnnnghh..."

it takes leon a while to recover, moaning lowly and riding his orgasm, watching you spasm beneath him while he spills inside you without much restraint. he tiredly fucks his load in you before he gives out and huffs a spent whine. he catches a glimpse of it. you're leaking white.

you're breathless, fatigued, sweating, and almost thoughtless as you catch some oxygen back in your lungs. you could feel yourself pulsating around his twitching shaft as waves of pleasure traveled your burning body. his arms loosen of their sensual hold before they catch you, pulling your weary form down to spoon with you momentarily. you can feel each other inhaling. exhaling.

a phone rang. it wasn't yours, you could tell by the ringtone. your eyes flit to see pierce's name on a default iphone screen. "i need a drink." leon exhales roughly, leaning over to kiss the shell of your ear before he reached for the bedside table to grab for his phone. he slipped out of the sheets with his phone on his ear.

#leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader smut #this is so bad kms

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catindabag · 11 months

Text

TBOSAS on Crack! ✨essential information✨

⭐️❄️⭐️

FIRST off, in honor of the book and its movie release, TBOSAS on Crack is solely (just) created as a JOKE!Alternative Universe that focuses more on the 24 OG Mentors of the 10th Hunger Games. This includes the funny/romantic misunderstandings of Coriolanus Snow and Sejanus Plinth that gave everyone the impression that they were actually “secretly” dating, and are indeed boyfriends (until they honestly were).

In addition, this Crack!AU will tell you the compelling story of how a bunch of delinquents “accidentally” stopped the Hunger Games from continuing, just because of a certain Mentor’s ✨nepotism✨.

MORE or less, most of the characters in the book are the same when it comes to their personalities and backstories. Well, except for our Mentors. They’re a bunch of crackhead Capitol kids with too much fun and stress on their hands. They even almost made Dean Highbottom and Dr. Gaul quit their respective jobs.

ALSO, these young walking disasters are not “all there” in the head. Heck! Half of them went crazy years ago because of the infamous 2 year Capitol Siege by the rebels that almost starved them all to death. Just ask Coryo Snow and Persephone. But as for the other half, let’s just say that all they want to do is eat, drink, party, and ✨graduate✨.

Here is a quick character info: [Read Me]

Here are their visuals: [Read Me]

Here’s the Hunger Games Origin: [Read Me]

Here’s their playlist: [Read Me]

Here are their ✨Code Names✨: [Read Me]

And here’s Dean Highbottom’s take: [Read Me]

Here’s that Epic The Musical Post: [Read Me]

Here’s the fate of District 13: [Read Me]

PS: For sanity’s sake, no Mentor or Tribute will be dying in this Crack!AU. No one gets killed! Bombs will still explode inside the Capitol Arena, but our crazy kids will wear the thickest plot armor EVER, just because I’m their only sponsor!🤣

Read the Cracks here: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78,

The cracks are not in chronological order, but someday they will. . .

MOREOVER, this Crack!AU includes the following:

The accidental birth of ✨Snowjanus✨!😘

Also known as Corjanus, SnowPlinth, CabbageBread, The Grandma’am golden ticket to a rich life, and Strabo’s not so secret plan to rule all of Panem through his only son’s marriage to Crassus Snow’s boy.

Coryo Snow malfunctioning for the hundredth time because of how forward and shamelessly romantic Sejanus Plinth is.

“Fine! I’ll marry into money! I’m sick of eating cabbages anyway!”

“Stop throwing bread to the dead, Sejanus Plinth! Throw it to the living!”

The Mentors (intentionally) delaying the Hunger Games from officially starting because of their nonstop shenanigans with their Tributes (much to Dr. Gaul and her Gamemaker’s frustration).🤣

The Tributes slowly accepting (and sometimes rejecting) the fact that their Mentors are just a bunch of “dramatic nepotistic crazy clowns” who refuse to learn basic social cues.

The 10th Hunger Games being officially postponed (over and over again) because of Felix Ravinstill’s ✨nepotism✨ working overtime.😌💅

In truth, the Gamemakers were “forced” to stop the countdown (over and over again) because half of the Mentors illegally barged into the control room without Dr. Gaul’s permission. Afterwards, Felix just used the excuse of “My granduncle is the President of Panem, I can do whatever I want” card to postpone the games.

Lucy Gray ignoring the personal space of her fellow annoyed Tributes (and everyone she meets), just because she’s “Covey” and quirky.

The poor underpaid Capitol Peacekeepers wanting a salary increase, vacation, and promotion because they have been dealing with the Mentors’ extra curricular criminal activities for far too long.

All the Mentors (excluding Livia and Arachne) being genuine ✨Besties✨ to each other since their grade school days.

Livia Cardew only calls her classmates either witches or idiots.

Festus Creed being the real ✨Dumpster Diving Capitol Rat King✨ and the best free cheesecake coupon hoarder of the century.

“Dumpster Diving for free food coupons is a common school activity, officer!”

The Academy? More like ✨The Academy of Arts✨💅.

Everyone wanting to secretly major in ✨Theatre & Drama✨.

Crazy but rich AF Sejanus Plinth and his unhealthy obsession of being Coryo Snow’s beloved boyfriend, fiancé, sugar daddy, baby daddy, and future husband.

Ma Plinth slowly becoming the food benefactor of the Mentors. #feedmeMa

Coriolanus Snow and Lucy Gray being the best of friends who love to sh*t talk about their boyfriends every time they meet.

Seriously, Coryo and Lucy Gray are just friends here. Everyone knows that crazy Sejanus Plinth will strangle anyone who tries to flirt with his gorgeous Snow Bae sugar baby fiancé.

Lucy Gray genuinely liking the Mentors for their chaotic ✨dramatic✨ personalities.

Sejanus Plinth shamelessly calling his darling Coryo “Babe, My love, Snow Angel, Snow Bae, Snowy, Snow Baby, Sweetheart” in front of everyone and their dogs.

The Mentors randomly coming up to Lucy Gray and asking her to sing banned songs from the early 2000s.

Strabo Plinth’s unhealthy obsession with the Snow family. Apparently, he and the ever gorgeous Crassus Snow were very close “friends” and the best “roommates” back in their military days. They were busy “stargazing” and playing with their rifles all night if you know what I mean.😏

The Grandma’am and Strabo Plinth being the true evil geniuses of the Capitol.😈

Strabo Plinth insisting Coryo to marry into his family and change their surnames to ✨The Great Plinth-Snow Dynasty✨, just because it sounds more powerful.

Coryo Snow accidentally convincing his beloved sugar daddy boyfriend (Crazy Sejanus Plinth) to become the future ✨President of Panem✨ (after Felix).

Tigris and The Grandma’am selling Coryo’s hand in marriage to the Plinth family. They genuinely believe that old man Strabo Plinth will lower the food prices if Sejanus marries Coryo for the sake of Panem.

Tigris Snow finally quitting her job (she got fired for being a weird cheese addict) and happy dancing for a whole week when she heard that her sweet little Coryo will marry into the Plinth family fortune.

Tigris, the Grandma’am, and Ma Plinth planning the ultimate ✨Snowjanus Royal Wedding of The Century✨.

The Grandma’am and evil Strabo Plinth scheming together to rule Panem and its people through ✨The Great SnowPlinth Union✨.

Ma Plinth wanting at least 5 beautiful grandchildren out of The Great SnowPlinth Union, while Strabo and the Grandma’am demanded 2 dozen (and more). #24&More

Lysistrata Vickers being the founder and President of the Capitol’s SnowPlinth/Snowjanus Official Fan Club.

Lucy Gray supporting and promising Coryo Snow that she and her Covey will sing the best banned love songs at his wedding.

Reaper Ash being labeled as the “weird one” by his fellow crazy Tributes.

Treech and Vipsania Sickle being the best gym bros for some unknown reason.

Marcus trying (and failing) to ignore the annoying existence of Sejanus Plinth.

Lysistrata Vickers having dibs as Coryo’s official ✨Maid of Honor✨. Apparently, poor cheese addict Tigris Snow was tragically outvoted by the very influential and powerful SnowPlinth/Snowjanus Fan Club members out of jealousy.🥲

Festus Creed and Tigris Snow fighting for the position of ✨Best Man✨ through an epic ✨Dance-off Battle✨💃🕺.

Apollo Ring being forced to be Coryo’s ring bearer because of his surname. Honestly, Gaius Breen and Androcles Anderson just peer pressured him for fun.

Livia Cardew planning to crash Coryo’s wedding for the expensive wine.

The Mentors and Tributes avoiding the “Arena Bomb Explosion Incident” because of Palmyra Monty’s dangerous existence.

Androcles Anderson being a proud professional kleptomaniac.

Lucky Flickerman wanting to quit his job. Apparently, the self proclaimed magic man was extremely unprepared to face and deal with the Mentors’ collective stupidity.😭

The Gamemakers forgetting to edit out Sejanus Plinth’s little arena stunt.

“Marcus was just sleeping, Sejanus! He’s still alive, you idiot Plinth! We freaking postponed the games!”

“For the last time! Don’t kiss Coriolanus Xanthos Snow on LIVE TV! There are freaking kids and dogs watching!”

Coryo and Sejanus shamelessly kissing, hugging, and being dramatic AF inside the Capitol Arena, while poor Marcus and the others are left sitting on the stands annoyed and confused AF.

Dean Casca Highbottom intentionally calling poor Coryo “Crassus Xanthos Snow” out of spite and out of regret (and because he’s still madly and deeply in love with the ever gorgeous Crassus Snow).

Drunk Highbottom living and swimming in denial since the infamous ✨#Crasca4Ever! University Breakup✨.😔

Coryo Snow successfully convincing a drunk Highbottom not to expel him by pretending to be Crassus Snow. He later regrets doing it.

Drunk!Casca not being able to correctly pronounce half all of his students’ names.

Festus Creed and Androcles Anderson receiving a lot of demerits and expulsion letters from the Dean. However, they still go to school and join their class discussions like nothing happened.

Casca Highbottom banning the Mentors from attending ✨The Academy’s Annual Students Teachers Meeting✨ (forever) because of the infamous Heavensbee Hall Flooding Incident.

Coryo Snow secretly trading his cabbages for banned music albums at the Capitol Black Market.

The banned song “Heaven Is A Place On Earth” accidentally playing on repeat inside the Capitol Arena because Felix Ravinstill forgot to detach his phone from Dr. Gaul’s master speaker.

“Snow On The Beach” stealing the top spot on the Capitol Billboard Hot 100 because of Coryo Snow and Lucy Gray’s final performance inside the Capitol Arena.

The Mentors trolling Lucky Flickerman and Lepidus Malmsey for the hundredth time.

Hilarius Heavensbee secretly collects movie records from the early 2000s. His favorite banned film is ✨Legally Blonde✨.

Io Jasper and Urban Canville being a bunch of shameless nerds who can’t properly communicate with each other.

Professor Sickle trying to convince Drunk!Casca Highbottom to give her a raise and promotion for tolerating the Mentors’ shenanigans and stupidity.

Crazy Palmyra Monty forever mentally and emotionally scarring her classmates (especially Florus Friend) with her homemade poisonous snacks.

Florus Friend fearing and avoiding Palmyra Monty’s accursed deadly bread rolls and expired sandwiches.

Felix Ravinstill being a genuine good friend and great Class President to everyone.

Dennis Fling asking poor sensitive Felix to beg for some illegal ✨Miracle Pills✨ from Lysistrata to cure Hy and Dill’s respiratory related illnesses.

Everyone knows that Persephone Price willingly ate that infamous “Maid Stew” that her father made for them to survive.

Festus Creed’s ✨PerseFest✨ agenda.

Dairy Heiress Domitia Whimsiwick fawning over Tanner’s skills and biceps.

Coral perfecting her somersault to impress the Capitol crowd and her idiot Mentor.

The Mentors pretending to be stupid whenever they attend Dr. Gaul’s class.

Dr. Gaul giving up on grooming poor Coryo Snow to become her successor because she realized that his brain doesn’t work properly whenever he’s with Sejanus.

Poor homeless Hilarius Heavensbee getting disowned and kicked out of the ✨Queen Bee Mansion✨ by his evil weirdo parents for being a loser nuisance towards his smarter and perfect younger brother.

Livia and Arachne convincing themselves that Casca Highbottom is actually Coryo Snow’s true sugar daddy.

Meanwhile, Florus Friend thinks Strabo Plinth is the real sugar daddy of poor Coryo Snow and homeless Hilarius Heavensbee.

Dr. Gaul openly wanting to strangle the Mentors for acting being stupid.

Urban Canville’s secret mission to strangle Lucky Flickerman and his annoying bird.

Felix Ravinstill being the favorite darling grandnephew son of President Gran Gran.

Festus winning the position of ✨Class Representative✨. Apparently, Creed only won because Sejanus “accidentally” locked Urban Canville inside a bathroom stall.

Persephone Price and Mizzen being the best pizza partners in crime. Somebody, these two idiots will rule all of Panem with their ruthless ✨Pizza Palace Empire✨.

Drunk!Coryo genuinely believes that Felix Ravinstill is the current President of Panem.

Drunk!Sejanus, Drunk!Coryo, Drunk!Festus, and Drunk!Lysistrata acting like shameless fools in front of their Tributes. The poor and underpaid Peacekeepers were not amused.

Festus Creed and Sejanus Plinth stripping on broad daylight because of the summer heat.

Reaper Ash praying for some normalcy and mental peace every day.

Jessup and Sheaf talking and singing with the Capitol’s “sacred” rabid raccoons and wild squirrels in order to stay sane.

Mizzen being a terrible little gremlin.

The Mentors trying to recreate The Hunger Games until ✨Panemvision✨ was born.

Livia’s own version of The Hungers Games is basically ✨Love Island✨ on crack and steroids.

Because of the awful “Love Island” idea, the rest of the Mentors had to write a serious 20 page essay on why the Hunger Games should be recreated/revamped into a true reality TV show with a “no killing, no gore, no cannibalism” policy.

The Mentors trying to convince the School Board Members, the Government Officials, and crazy President Ravinstill to change the 10th Hunger Games into a non-deadly talent show to increase viewership and sponsors.

Moreover, Coryo strongly defended the proposal by having Lucy Gray successfully sing in front of a live audience (again) on TV. Billy Taupe was the only one who got offended (again).

Meanwhile, the rest of the Mentors also convinced their Tributes to show off their talents that same day. That was Reaper’s 2nd worst day of the week.😂

Dean Highbottom only supported the proposal because it reminded him of his wild karaoke clubbing days with his drop dead gorgeous lover. You know who it was.😏 #Crasca4Ever #crassusmylove #SnowBottom

Clemensia Dovecote also backs their weird essays by simply stating that killing children will only make the Districts hate the Capitol more. However, if they provide “real entertainment” without the violence, then the Districts might warm up to them.

In addition, Sejanus proposed that the winner of the contest will be made a ✨STAR of PANEM✨! 🤩

And as the ✨Star of Panem✨, he/she will be given monetary support and a lifetime supply of cabbages and lima beans by the Capitol.

Meanwhile, the losers will only get 10 boxes of pizza, 2 gallons of orange soda, one body bag of sandwiches (made by Ma Plinth) as a reward for “willingly” participating.

Juno Phipps then added a “rule” stating that no Tribute shall be punished (or killed) because the losers must live and remember their humiliation on television for the rest of their lives.😈

Coryo and Clemmie also proposed that each Tribute must have a Prep Team and Stylist to make them presentable for Lucky Flickerman’s Late Night Show with Jubilee.

Finally, Felix Ravinstill and Dennis Fling closed their arguments by stating: “That being forced to sing and perform ON STAGE and on LIVE TV, which could be replayed over and over again, even after death, especially for Tributes who couldn’t save their own pride and dignity for all of Panem to remember, is the worst punishment one could freely give to one’s enemy. They won’t even be allowed to forget how they had wronged you.”

After hearing the Mentors’ closing argument, Dr. Gaul was ready to end it all and commit bloody murder in front of everyone.😡🔪

But after some deliberation, President Ravinstill (and his puppies) approved the Mentors’ proposal and changed the Hungers Games into the ✨HGASC✨ (Hunger Games: Annual Singing Contest).

However, the Grandma’am and Strabo Plinth insisted that they should just officially call it ✨PANEMVISION✨.

Meanwhile, Dr. Gaul tried to persuade President Ravinstill (again) to reconsider the Mentors’ stupid proposals.

However, she was outvoted by both the School Board Committee and the Capitol’s highest ranking government officials, just because everyone (but her) wanted to see what “true entertainment” really looks like on screen.

Livia Cardew even defended everyone’s ideas nonstop because, according to her, there was a lack of spicy entertainment in the Capitol. Damn the rules! This is the Capitol! We want ✨Love Island✨ type of dramas! Where are the ✨Real Housewives of Corso✨?! F*ck the Hunger Games! Give us the 90 Day Fiancé from the Districts!

And that’s how the Mentors “accidentally” ended the Hunger Games and gave birth to the most popular and craziest reality TV show in the weird history of Panem.

As for every Quarter Quell, let’s just say, it’s gonna be a true ✨SHOW STOPPER✨!

The first ✨HGASC/PANEMVISION✨ Quarter Quell will have the Mentors reap kids from both Capitol and District. Afterwards, one District Tribute will be paired with one Capitol Tribute to perform a special duet act (whether they like it or not).

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judjira · 7 months

Text

the office

tags: fluff pairing: reader x jihyo after hours wc: 1938 back to masterlist

Drat.

Your keys to the apartment.

You left them at your desk, in your cubicle. You can still remember when you tossed them onto your desk this morning, lazily and with a huff, as you were about to start another day as a mindless corporate slave.

Sulkingly trudging back inside, to the lobby of your office building, you shoot an apologetic smile to the night guard who barely even reciprocates.

Soon enough, you’re on the elevator, mourning your forgetfulness.

But don’t worry, it’s alright. Soon enough, you’ll get those keys and be out of here in a jiffy, exploring the nightlife.

Then, maybe you can marvel at the grandeur of the city that is somehow asleep and awake at the same time.

For now however, the elevator dings at your floor, and the doors slide open.

Your floor of the office is the same as the one above it and below it. Rows and rows of cubicles that are barely different aside from a nameplate.

Of course, people customize their cubicles to their own liking, but the point of working is to not be comfortable, why would you want to make your workplace feel more like it’s yours?

Because it’s not. It’s not your space. It is owned by some cruel, nepotistic CEO who lives in the lap of luxury, all the while his workers slave away, barely earning minimum wage.

Everything in an office space is hostile. The glaring fluorescent lights that flicker every now and then, the narrow and tight walkways amongst cubicles, the drab white and grey colors that are too boring to look at. Everything in here screams hostility.

Therefore, why would you wanna own any of it?

Still, though, you ponder as you arrive at your cubicle, the only sign of personalization, a bobble head of some video game character or anime protagonist that you really like next to your monitor.

There’s nothing wrong in trying to make it a little less hostile.

You grab the keys by your desk, dutifully ignoring the stack of papers next to your monitor that are reserved for tomorrow morning.

Tonight, you explore.

Where to first?

“You died.”

“Aw, you gotta be kidding me!”

That attracts your attention immediately.

Because the office is empty, no one should be here in these disgusting, loathsome, horrid walls that confine an individual to the end of their life.

But there is someone here. And it sounds like the space does not confine them to misery as of this moment.

In fact, it sounds very much like they are playing a game.

You peer over your cubicle walls, and spot another cubicle, glowing light shining out of it in the office that is only lit by the hallway outside.

The voice actually sounds familiar. You’ve worked with this person before.

And you’re actually disheartened.

Because this person is the laziest, most unprofessional, most unproductive piece of shi—

“Oh, hey!”

She waves, and you sigh in dismay.

“Hello, Jihyo.”

The woman in the chair beams at you, controller in her hands, as she waves you over.

Jihyo is younger than you. Maybe not in terms of age, she’s only a few years down, but in terms of experience and maturity? You’ve got about centuries more than she does.

And with her bright grin, tied hair, and folded up sleeves, you are only affirmed of this fact.

“Didn’t think I’d see you around here at this hour, you workaholic.”

Hey! You actually take offense to that. You take pride in the work that you do, you’re good at it.

But somehow, the fact that you’re actually taking pride in the mindless slavery you’re part of disheartens you further.

Still, you shake that off.

“What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be here after ho—are you playing video games?”

You cut yourself off as you stare incredulously at her computer, a video game screen paused.

“Okay, they’re just called games, you boomer. No one calls them video games anymore. And yes, I am. Y’know, these PCs they let us use have some really high specs.”

Jihyo tucks her feet onto her swivel chair, and you notice that she is still wearing her formal button up, unbuttoned at the neck and sleeves folded, and her slacks, that seem rather stretchy and comfortable. She’s not even wearing her flats, as she perches her bare feet on her chair.

“Jihyo, you could be fired for this.”

She scoffs, smirking as she turns back to the computer to unpause the game.

“As if. I rerouted their monitoring apps to an empty unit over in one of the other cubicles. They think I’m just doing work. They have no clue what I’m actually doing.”

This is what’s always pissed you off about Jihyo. Always lackadaisical, always carefree, always about avoiding work. There was probably never a moment in her life where she thought about work.

Still, though. The smile on her face is quite telling, as she offers you the controller that’s in her hands.

“Wanna play?”

It betrays every measure of what this space is supposed to be, an oppressive, capitalistic nightmare that traps you in its clutches, never to be free.

But Jihyo looks as if the space around her barely even touches her. As if somehow, the cubicle she’s called her own is a safe haven from the nature of the space around her.

And indeed it is. Chock full of all sorts of personalization, stickers, mini posters, figurines, colorful pens and pencils, sticky notes. All of it screams Jihyo. Well, you think it does.

You don’t know Jihyo well. All you really know about her is the fact that she’s a relatively new hire, she doesn’t like doing work, and she sometimes steals other people’s food from the refrigerator.

But seeing all of this now, it’s a glimpse—no, more than a glimpse. It’s a screenshot of what Jihyo’s world looks like.

Jihyo is smiling at you, untrapped, unbothered, and unbound from the world you call work.

It makes you wonder.

“I’ll just watch you, if that’s cool.”

She shrugs, unpauses the game again, and scoots her chair over in the small cubicle to make room for you.

You grab one of the chairs in the cubicle next to her and sit.

“So, what brings you back to the office? Got a few more files you’re working on, you workaholic?”

The insult makes you roll your eyes.

“For your information, I was just getting my keys. Unlike you, I actually finish my work on time.”

Jihyo chortles, to herself more than anything. And the sound she makes, loud and proud, isn’t as bad a sound as you thought it would be.

“As if that’s something to be proud of, you boomer. Do you even have any hobbies?”

Hobbies. Unironically, that’s a word you haven’t heard of in a long time. When’s the last time you actually spent time doing something you personally enjoyed?

“Well…yeah, I do. I mean…sometimes.”

Your defense sounds weak, even to your own ears, as Jihyo fixes you with a look of pity.

“You gotta learn to get out more. Enjoy life. You’re not gonna discover the answers to the universe sitting in your cubicle, jotting down timesheets.”

The way Jihyo talks about it, almost preaching and sagely, sounds as if she’s got the answers to the universe herself. Which makes you scoff.

“Is that what you’re doing? Discovering the answers to the universe?”

Jihyo actually pauses her game again at that, and instead of glaring at you or shooting another insult at you, she grins with that impossible positivity that has no place in this world.

“Hey, it helps.”

Does it, you wonder? Is that why Jihyo seems so free from the burdensome chains that everyone in this office seems to carry? Amongst all of your coworkers, Jihyo is indeed the only one that seems to carry some semblance of individuality.

Hell, within time, even you molded your personality to better fit the tight box of corporate work, becoming another cut out copy of the mindless drones that offices today produced.

And that is…sad.

“Look, far as I’m concerned, I need my me-time. And this constitutes as part of that. I’m an individual, not some cog in a machine.”

Jihyo’s right. If there’s anything her unbridled carefree attitude succeeds at, it’s defining herself as a person, breaking from the walls of normality and moldong her own space to live in.

Perhaps that is why she’s always drawn your attention.

“…well, whatever works for you.”

You manage, watching as she strikes an enemy in her game with some sort of lightning bolt.

“Yeah, it works for me. And it’ll work for you too, y’know. As soon as you get that stick out of your ass.”

You hate to admit it, but maybe she’s right.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

And keep it you do. But that’s not the only thing you keep in mind.

Jihyo, from this close, is a beautiful woman. Well, you imagine she’s beautiful from far away as well. Not that you need to imagine, because you’ve seen her from afar. In fact, it’s what originally drew your attention to her.

She stood out in a crowd of fresh hires, her effortless beauty and cheek-to-cheek smile always somehow managed to catch your eye. Then, when she started being the most frustrating co-worker ever, your eyes always seemed to land on her form.

And now, with this night of nights only just beginning, she’s only somehow gotten more beautiful, the only light illuminating her face coming from the monitor in front of her. She’s sticking out her tongue to the side, evidently focused on her game.

Until she glances at you, catching you in your moment of weakness.

And she smiles.

“I thought you were going to watch the game, not me.”

Instead of backing down, as you normally would, you shrug, ignoring the way your heart pounds at the confrontation.

“Sorry. Can’t help it.”

She hums, before taking her phone, and handing it to you.

“Here. If you’re gonna just stare at me all night, you might as well make yourself useful and order something.”

You blink at the phone, before looking back up at her.

“Are you really gonna stay here all night?”

Jihyo shrugs, grinning.

“Hey, it’ll make me look productive.”

The illusion of your momentary romanticization of Jihyo doesn’t dissipate at her careless comment. In fact, it only affirms your thoughts.

You admire Jihyo. And her capability to just be herself, no matter how oppressive the environment.

“…and what makes you think I’m sticking around?”

Jihyo’s gaze turns to you, and it’s only then you fully shed yourself of all of your assumptions regarding your frustrating co-worker.

Because it’s only then that she smiles fully, as if she truly sees you, caught up in a web of mismatched priorities and lost humanity. She sees you past all of that, and truly smiles.

“Is that really a question when you’re staring at me like that?”

No. It isn’t.

You already made up your mind. This is where you’ll be spending your night of nights, away from the city, away from the lively lights, away from the surreal sounds.

Here, inside a space that is not quite yours and not quite Jihyo’s, but still tailor-made to the two of you.

A space where you can truly just be yourself.

“Don’t be so assuming. I’m just here to make sure you don’t mess up the servers.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Come on, scooch closer so you can see the screen.”

And Jihyo will be with you the whole time.

#after hours #twice fic #twice fanfic #twice x reader #twice imagines #jihyo x reader

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sergeifyodorov · 6 months

Note

plz share the willy xenophobia discussion at your leisure i would love to read about it

Right. So.

Willy was drafted in 2014, a top-ten pick with legacy pedigree, and unlike the other two in Toronto's Big Three, took a little longer to develop -- Marner spent his D+1 in the OHL before coming up, Matthews made the team right away, but Willy spent time in the SHL and about a year and a half in the Marlies before joining at the end of the 15-16 season, after Marner was drafted but before Matthews was. Needless to say, expectations of him weren't quite as high, but he was firmly expected to be part of the Big Rebuild, too.

He's also Swedish. The first Europeans in the NHL were Swedish, and to this day the highest proportion of non-North Americans is Swedish. However, in order to understand the Swedes, we have to talk about the Russians.

The 1972 Summit Series is probably the most important single event in the history of hockey -- eight games, the first true best-on-best in the world, since the NHL and the Olympics have always had a fraught relationship and they weren't allowed to attend. If we really wanted to talk about the Summit Series, we could be here for years, but, the point: on this particular world stage, it was finally understood that Europeans -- Russians, but everyone else, too -- played a different style of hockey, one that emphasized a side-to-side possession-based game instead of the Canadian dump-and-chase style. The Euro style involves far less checking. And less fighting.

North American (largely Canadian, but nonetheless) hockey has always had a culture of hypermasculinity around it, and this relative lack of violence, as well as pre-existing stereotypes of the time, gave the impression that Europeans were "soft."

Back to Willy. Go back to look at draft-era Willy, before he learns how to grow facial hair -- not Mitch's baby face, but not Auston's full-grown jawline. A layer of puppy fat that disguises all but the most defined of his muscles. Silky blond hair and a dopey smile. He dresses expensively, breaks into fits of giggles in interviews, doesn't seem to take anything as seriously as he should. Because this is Toronto, and we feel as if we are about to enter a new golden age, we expect the most out of our prospects -- solemnity, hard work, not a flaxen-haired nepotist idiot. Especially not a soft flaxen-haired nepotist idiot.

Willy Nylander, raised and trained on a different continent, doesn't hit much, preferring to carry his puck in than dump it. He's speedy, patient with a shot, would rather make a dangerous chance than one through three lanes of traffic. He doesn't fight, doesn't get mad, scores less when the team's really going, and he held out to the last possible moment in his RFA negotiations. Every single one of these drives people mad -- people here trailing all after Don Cherry.

If you're not familiar with Don Cherry, imagine the worst Leafs uncle you could possibly realize, give him opinions of similar attitude on the rest of the NHL, and then understand that he had a national platform for decades. Cherry, fervent nationalist that he is, touted the "tough" Canadian forechecking style, adored players who would walk off injuries -- never mind their lives afterwards -- and once expressed his disdain for visors (you know, the thing that... protects your eyes... and a lot of your face...) by saying that only the Europeans and Francophones liked them. (He also got kicked off of Hockey Night in Canada for anti-immigrant statements. Yee haw.)

Cherry hated Nylander the entire time, explicitly citing his Swedishness (and implying a lack of toughness, or winning quality, which he equated) as a reason that the Leafs would never win with him. Here's an article from right around draft day with Cherry's opinion -- he says the Leafs, should they choose to contend, should forgo Europeans and instead take Canadians. He also cites Ritchie's high penalty-minute count as a valuable item. (I don't know about you, but generally I think regularly putting your team on the penalty kill is a detriment, not a strength).

Furthermore, there's a poll at the end of this article asking the reader if they think Cherry was right. Most people think he was. He was hugely popular not only because he was a charismatic figure (I keep talking about him as if he's dead; he's not, just no longer working) but because his ideas were popular. People believed, and still very much do, that Swedishness is softness and that softness is bad. And as -- as a Leaf -- arguably one of the most visible Swedes in the NHL, one of those tasked with shouldering the weight of the most known franchise, Willy bore a lot of it.

I think part of the reason I didn't mention it in the original post was because unlike Mitch, Willy doesn't seem to let it get to him a lot -- he's a blissfully oblivious Barbie-doll idiot -- and, again, because expectations on him weren't quite as high. That being said, it's still important to discuss imho !

#asks #william nylander #btw this isn't 10 million words long don't worry. just a leedle too long to post without the cut #also: willy is still very much white. like he's not north american but he is white which certainly affords him privilege #for ex over a guy like naz who despite being one of those canadian ohl guys don cherry liked so much is visibly Not White.

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chintzwife · 9 months

Text

i know it's low hanging fruit to mock british productions as incestuous and insular and nepotistic but with david tennant as your show lead, casting david tennant's father in law as Thee Job From the Bible and david tennant's son as The Son of Thee Job From the Bible is a bit much. it's time to order an internal investigation of hiring practices at the bbc amazon prime department, british subdivision, queer torment team

#mio.txt #good omens #david tennant #like. guys please #ty tennant #peter davison

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intoloopin · 3 months

Text

AN INTERLUDE: IN UNITY.

TWS: A rapist and drugs are very briefly mentioned. The boys are fighting. And I believe that's all. characters (starring): Na Seungsoo. Woo Gyujin. word count: 2,457 words. time stamp: January 21th, 2024 (the day Dylan released his mixtape). author's note: not exactly super beated because I am literally dying! But anyways! Transitionary piece to get this plot going! Productivety! Hell yeah! *passes out*

January 21th.

Seungsoo doesn’t miss LOOPiN’s old dorm because he can’t miss it.

So every time he gets close to airing a complain about their current house, he instead makes a point to remember that their former two story apartment came straight out of Jiahang’s pockets, rented with a fraction of one of his many, many trust funds set by his millionaire parents for when he grew up and decided to go to college to study rare plants, or be a nepotistic model, or move to Monaco and do nothing forever. It becomes very easy to cultivate a vendetta against it that way.

But right now what Seungsoo can’t help but miss is having a bigger balcony, one that won’t cramp him when he tries to have a peaceful and quiet meltdown in his own goddamn home. There's a breeze hitting him right on the face while he’s staring at the goddamn sunset but he still feels suffocated. And he’s only sharing space with Taesong’s outside plants, their leaves a depressing shade of sick green, and Haegon’s brand new bike, which he only bought because he wasn't allowed to get a haircut after leaving Sunyoung for the nth time.

From behind him, Seungsoo hears the sound of the balcony’s door being quietly pushed open, and of a series of steps growing closer. The living room’s light has been turned on and it’s painting his body in yellow light.

“Haruki, look–” Seungsoo breathes, turning on his heels quickly, ready to raise his arms high in rendition.

Who he finds behind him is someone else, tough, someone worse – or maybe not. Haruki hates him now, romanticizes the living Hell out of Dylan now, so he would have certainly been way worse to look in the eyes now than Gyujin.

Gyujin who, with his brand new eyebrow piercing and wet hair from his one hour long shower, greets him with a smile then says, as if he’s queued to deliver a joke, “You wish.”

“Great,” Seungsoo mutters to himself, turning his back to him, getting back at supporting his elbows on the wall. For a second, he marvels at how nasty the fall would be if he jumped to the backyard. “Get out, Gyujin, seriously. I’m not in the mood.”

“Boo-hoo. I didn’t ask.”

With that, he comes close. He sits on the thick wall in the little space the plants give him, both hands holding on the concrete while he bends dangerously backwards, dangling his feet.

And Gyujin just stays there, barely moving and not talking, only whistling like a goddamn cartoon. In retaliation, Seungsoo frowns harder at the horizon and begins to fidget on his sleeping clothes, fingers anxious to hold onto something.

He never picked up on smoking and he kind of regrets it now, can’t remember the reason why. Maybe because he likes to smell like cologne too much, or because he hates the thought of being unable to kiss someone without it tasting bitter.

It takes a mere minute or so for him to break, because that’s what Seungsoo does best: he can’t hold back an impulse, can’t swallow a single word down. He needs a collar, he’s realized recently, a muzzle, and no one ever gets him one – no one ever gets him.

“That was just so damn childish,” He mutters through his teeth. “Releasing all the songs like that.”

“Oh?” Gyujin tilts his squared chin down. He’s almost looming over Seungsoo, with the way he’s set – taking him from up above, an angle Seungoo’s had a problem being perceived from ever since he was the youngest of his mother’s kids. “And unfollowing Chihoon on Instagram wasn't childish?”

“I don’t like when any of our private business gets exposed, no matter how vague. He knows that.”

“Didn’t you just make it more public now with your little show? Or do you really think no one will connect the two, that the timing isn’t obvious, that you aren’t raising tension?”

Seungsoo suppresses a little scream by pressing his knuckles hard against his lips.

“You didn’t think that far, did you? Tsk, you just never do,” Gyujin lets out a laugh. “So what is it, Seungsoo, really? Why did you do that? What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?!” Seungsoo breathes, straightening up quickly, viciously – he almost hits Gyujin on the forehead with his head by doing so. “What is wrong with you?! Do you really think it’s okay for him to make something like that and release it without checking with us first?! When it’s mostly about the team?! We’re not illiterate! We can understand all his goddamn English!”

“Hm. Little League’s mean, I never said it wasn’t,” Gyujin agrees, but his relaxed posture lets it clear to Seungsoo that he does so only partially, half heartedly, even – always so comfortable with the possibility of a fall, he thinks, eyeing his horrible posture. “It’s a mock song made to piss Haegon off, and it got the job done. He’s justified in everything he chose to do about it. I just don’t get why you’re so offended. Is it because Chihoon didn’t write about you?”

“Are you insane? It’s not about getting a song or not, or Dylan doing things on his own or not, I just don’t–” Seungsoo shakes his head, searching for the right words, any other words but–

“You don’t like remembering we’re not friends,” Gyujin completes – spot on like fucking always. “That he doesn’t feel like he owes us secrecy anymore.”

And to think there would be a time, not even so long ago, where Seungsoo would immediately jump to refute him, banging on his chest and saying with real pride, “We’re all friends! We’re all close!”

But saying it now would just make it sound like a blatant lie; a joke with an awful punchline. So he bites his tongue and goes back to being quiet.

“Na Seungsoo, I need you to listen to what I’ll say to you,” Gyujin tells him, his voice set on a tone deeper than his usual, making the full name ring off his mouth like an intimation. Ungrundly, Seungsoo listens. “You need to start processing the things you do before you do them.”

Seungsoo scoffs, forced and loud, and looks away from his face quickly – runs from the ice underneath his setting jaw.

“We have problems, alright? All great groups do,” Gyujin keeps up, bumping their shoulders together once, then not again; Seungsoo recoils more against the wall and lightly grates his arm all to escape his follow up attempt by a matter of millimeters. “Sometimes things get sour and they spill over, and that’s just how it is. You get around, you know I’m right. No one has it easy. Idolmaker is in the middle of a PR nightmare with all the Hosung freakout, we’ve been seeing it first hand, and you won’t find Gayoung or Jeonghun getting petty in public because it isn’t smart.”

“So what can I actually do, Gyujin, about our situation?” Seungsoo asks him. A spot on his jaw is hurting from how hard he’s clenching it.

Gyujin gives him that awful, awful look of his that always tells him ‘You’re an idiot’. “Seungsoo, please. Dylan’s vent album is not a situation–”

“C’mon, Gyujin, I know it’s not!” Seungsoo says, too close to yelling. “And I know your little speech isn’t really about the goddamn unfollow! It’s you trying to get inside my head and control how I’ll act now that I know the group’s ending!”

The words make Gyujin pause. He almost fully freezes. It’s all the confirmation Seungsoo needs, the mute answer to the question that’s been eating him alive since Christmas.

“You’ve heard the fucking rumors, you– Gyujin, you know! I know you know! The March shareholder’s meeting has been canceled, Minwoo hasn’t sat down to write a real song since October, and Jiahang’s fucking dad called him back to China last month. For what?! He’s backing out, isn’t he?! He’s selling his shares because New Wave is dying. They’re going to debut the girls and just– fate out with us in it!”

Gyujin takes a defeated breath. Finally, he makes his way down the wall. “Sony hyung–”

“Don’t you Sony hyung me, man!” Seungsoo exclaims, angling his head up to fully face Gyujin, round eyes on round eyes. “Look, I know I talk even when I shouldn’t, I know my brain is goddamn slow, that it makes me do stupid shit, but why is everyone keeping things from me now?! I’m a producer too, aren’t I?! I’m a part of LOOPiN just as much as everyone, maybe even more than some people we got! Isolating me is fucked!”

“No one is isolating you, Seungsoo. Things are just complicated when it comes to giving you confidential information,” Gyujin counters, crossing his arms in front of his chest. His voice is again different, hitting at him cutting and terminal. It infuriates Seungsoo more. “And you know why that is. You put yourself in a hard position. Face it: you broke the trust. This is your own doing.”

Seungsoo’s mouth hangs open, stays open. “I broke the– what?! Why?! Because I pushed Jiahang once when he was about to do cocaine off an Inkigayo sink?! Because I took Dylan with me to haunt down a serial rapist?! I don’t regret any of those things, and I never will!”

“Was that all you did, really? Because the way I see it, the way it came across for everyone, was you going all vigilante over the members' private business,” Gyujin stresses. “And what good did any of these things do for anyone? You almost costed Jiahang his eye, Seungsoo. You almost got Chihoon arrested–”

“So now it’s all my fault?! We’re sinking, we’re doomed, and it’s all my fault?! Fuck you! You have no idea how or why– what do you even know about anything, really?!” Seungsoo spits at him, infuriated. “You just fucking got here, and– and you’ve been with us for a year and some fucking weeks, max! And it seems like everyone forgot that, that they all forgot that there was a time without you, but I didn’t! Do you even know what Haegon said, when he came with the idea of unfollowing Dylan?! ‘No matter what we do now Gyujin’s gonna fix it in the morning, so let’s do something dumb and tiny, so he won’t kill us!’ Like you’re in control or something! But news flash, this is New Wave Music, and you’re not in control, no one is! And if someone was, that someone would be me! Minwoo, Jimin, and me!”

“Or maybe not, now!” Seungsoo’s mouth keeps on going. He’s griping at the concrete of the balcony with one hand, pointing one straight at the center of Gyujin’s chest, and just letting a whole torrent out. “Maybe you do deserve trust more than I do! You– You know everything because everyone tells you everything, and you songwrite too, you can still play the tuba, why don’t you just take my fucking place, uh? If I get it all wrong and you do it all right?! Go be an executive producer, go on! Fuck writing all over just Beomseok, end me too! Minwoo likes you better anyway, maybe you can make his slump go away! Jimin fucking likes you better too, he won’t even mind me being gone, you might even get him to stop hiding Nicola from everyone, who knows!”

Seungsoo takes a shaky pause to breathe, his chest rising. He’s sure his face is red, that there’s a line of sweat on his forehead.

Gyujin remains too close and unmoving, his eyes semi close, analyzing.

“And what else?” He asks. He’s still grinning like he knows something Seungsoo doesn’t. “C’mon, go on. Spill it all out. I wanna hear it.”

“You sick–!” Seungsoo grunts, then takes another deep inhale, ends up almost choking on his own spit.

Coughing, he dismangles his grip off Gyujin’s shirt and forces himself to fall silent – they both do. Somewhere down in the street, a million cars honk and make out a disastrous symphony, and it pierces through Seungsoo’s ears like he’s in the middle of traffic. He’s minutes away from developing a killer migraine.

“So this is what comes out of you when you’re scared, yeah?” Gyujin eventually notes, quiet. Seungsoo can almost hear the tiny smile on his face stretching and growing warmer, showing just a flash of front teeth, white like a goddamn grain of salt. “Pretty animalistic reaction, although highly entertaining–”

“I’m not scared,” Sengsoo fires back, even though he is. He knows it deep in his bones, by the lack of good sleep: he’s terrified of blinking too slowly and missing any more warning signs, more sunny days; fearing they’re already all long behind him. He turns his head down. “Just, just– Tired of feeling– Tired.”

And feeling like I don’t belong, is what he thinks but doesn’t say: Like I’m not good at my job. Like no one will ever forgive me.

He feels one of Gyujin’s warm hands setting over his shoulder, offering it a squeeze. This time Seungsoo leaves it there, allowing it to linger. “Hyung, I can see that. We all can. You’ve been putting on some crazy hours in the studio lately. We appreciate how hard you’re covering for Minwoo hyung. I might not have thanked you for that yet, so–”

“Spare me the prase shower, Woo Gyujin,” Seungsoo grunts, running a hand over his face, onto his hair. “Just tell me to fuck off now so I can go to sleep with at least one argument settled.”

“And make it that much easier for you? Ha, of course not,” Gyujin laughs, amused. “Besides, we’re not fighting, have never fought, and never will. You have nothing to settle with me. But I’ll give you space to gather your courage to face who you really should.”

“Fuck you,” Seungsoo says, just to be the one to get the last words as Gyujin’s walking back and away. It comes off sounding tiny and defeated, a little ashamed.

He doesn’t get that: as soon as Gyujin gets a hand on the door, he calls back, “And in the meantime…”

Seungsoo takes an annoyed peek over his shoulder to glare at him. “What?”

“Follow Dylan back, you fucking drama queen,” Gyujin says, rolling his eyes, grinning like the Devil he pretends he isn't. “And relax, okay? We’ll be fine. We always are.”

And he disappears behind the glass, pulling the curtains inside and turning off the light.

On the tiny balcony only Seungsoo and the never quiet city remain, looking as the sun goes down and down.

#&& ⠀ [ . . . ] hound on a hunt ⠀⸻ writing .#&& ⠀ [ . . . ] hound on a hunt ⠀⸻ development .#&& ⠀ [ . . . ] hound on a hunt ⠀⸻ seungsoo .#fictional idol community #fake kpop group #kpop fanfic #kpop au #kpop oc

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theduckeminence · 10 months

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I’ve been curious lately about the idea of a rewrite for Pakku’s little character arc.

Yes, he is a traditionalist master waterbender and a massive smug jerk when refusing to teach Katara. He was a sexist up until he decided that upon learning Katara was Kanna granddaughter, he saw her as a student. Now from the way the show framed that moment, it seemed more or less nepotistic. There was also the fact that by the end of the series, it’s become canon that Pakku and Kanna ended up getting back together to which everyone called BS on for how quick that is. Now honestly I can’t ignore or deny any of this as the way the series framed Pakku’s development is dubious at best. We go from sexist nepotistic jerk to “meet your new grandpappy!” and that’s about it. Sure there was a bit of Pakku and Kanna in the North and South comic but due the the extremely questionable writing of the comics, I resolve from really including it very much

(I could mention how we never really saw Pakku’s development during the time of Gaang’s adventures and the time we had for the show but I’ll probably mention it another time).

I would also like to add some moments to give into him being more sympathetic such as a more softer or relatable side to him, while also giving more nuance to his character’s arc.

As such, I propose a couple ideas/headcanons of my own that may add to this sour old crusty bastard:

Wouldn’t it be interesting if he had gotten married to another girl following Kanna’s disappearence?And/or maybe that his family arranged him to marry another girl? Though if he were to take another hand, arranged or not, it wouldn’t be a very happy marriage. Therefore, he might have decided upon staying single for the rest of his life. The insight of how he must’ve dealt regarding this decision can depend how you would want to frame it. Whether he was content with the idea or, if you want to go for a more angstier route, depressed about it, that’s all up to you.

If we had gone with the more depressing option of him staying single, imagine how it must’ve been for him to be alone for most of his life—with no one to go home to and spending nights by himself eating meals alone. This may as well hit harder when realizing that since tribes are usually more communal and closely-knitted, Pakku living by himself puts him out of place. And though he could spend the evening having dinner with a friend’s family, or find content in the silence of his home, he cannot ignore the utter pitiful loneliness of not hearing any laughter nor the sound of children/grandchildren roaming the halls.

Speaking of children, Pakku has always wanted to have a child or more of his own. When he was still a young man, he dreamt of coming home to a caring wife and excited children where he can pick them up and toss them up, all while telling them stories about his day. But ever since Kanna left, that sort of dream had drained away into, well, just a dream.

Though, as he grows older, sometimes he would see the young boys and girls play in the snow, away from doing any of their chores or classes. While he would scold, there were some occasions where he slips from his hardened expression to entertain the children with a shower of snowflakes to little snow puppet-figure shows.

When he moves down South and spends more time down there, he becomes known as the local Grandpa-kku (much to his dismay to the pun).

#atla #avatar the last airbender #master pakku #pakku #order of the white lotus #the white lotus #water tribe #can yall tell this post was just an excuse for me to ramble about this old man? because UH 👀—#i also probably have more thoughts but ill probably add more when i remember em BCKXJXX #long post

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