#k-pop sobriety

[elhowe]

went to upload a screenshot of a poem i wrote but got distracted by the fact that these are apparently the only two things from my camera roll tumblr has access to

[mayiwritesomething]

Love is an Unfamiliar Name (Pt. 9 - Final)

Wordcount: 2,7 k

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x f!reader

A/N: Hi guys, thank you all for following this series that was quite fun to write. But like everything in life, we’ve got to the end of it haha

Don’t want to give any spoilers about it, besides the fact the reader cries listening to Arctic Monkeys (who has never?), the only thing i’ll say is that we have a quite happy ending, and I hope you like it 💖

I’m thinking about writing some more one shots about them, should I?

>MASTERLIST

———-

Home

The next day was a battle. Your head felt as heavy as lead when you woke up, unsure if it was from the two shots of whiskey or the tears you shed the night before. As you faced the breath of sobriety, you noticed missed calls from Jennifer and Colin.

Upon opening the group chat with the girls, you were met with a flood of messages and chaos. Some were concerned about you (you couldn't even recall the tear-filled voice messages you sent from the hotel), while others were hurling insults at Pedro, and the sober part of you felt bad reading those.

Scrolling through the messages, you came across a selfie Jenny had sent: she and Colin acting silly in front of the elevator mirror with the caption, "Colin says hi!" Despite your own misery, you couldn't help but feel happy for them. After all, you had been shipping these two for years.

As you continued scrolling, a notification from Colin popped up: “Forgive me now. Thank me later.” You were too miserable to comprehend what he meant, so you began tidying up your things to distract yourself. The need to immerse yourself in music to navigate through your cathartic moment and move forward grew stronger. With one month left of shooting, you couldn't afford to be unprofessional.

Opening your suitcase, you discovered one of his sweaters that you had planned to return to him if he were there now. Your Life Sucks playlist transitioned to Arctic Monkeys, and you found yourself lying on the bed, crying and singing, "Do I wanna know? If these feelings flow both ways... Sad to see you go. Was sorta hoping you’d stay…" Through sobs, you muttered, "Oh, my friend Alex... I'm so pathetic, oh my god," as you chuckled at your own disaster.

Still reclined on the bed, time slipped away unnoticed as an 80s ballad filled the room. Suddenly, the doorbell pierced through the melody, jolting you from your reverie. Rapidly, you silenced the song and glanced in the mirror, ensuring you didn’t look like a panda before rushing to answer the door. Why had Jennifer shown up unannounced?

Swinging the door open, you exclaimed, “Hey, early riser! What the fuc—Pedro?” Confusion swirled as you tried to comprehend how he found your place. Jenny wouldn’t have given your location, knowing your temper all too well.

“Hi,” Pedro mumbled sheepishly, “could we talk?”

“Firstly, how on earth did you find me?” You inquired, a mix of curiosity and annoyance evident in your tone.

“I had some help from your Irish friend,” he confessed, scratching his head trying to find the right words—a habit you found quite cute. “Oh, and I brought you some coffee— if you're up for a chat,” he added, his embarrassment palpable.

“Well, I suppose we both have things to discuss,” you conceded, feeling remorse for the events of the previous night but determined to clarify things.

“May I come in?” he requested.

“Yes, of course,” you replied, ushering him inside. He handed you a cup of Colombian dark coffee, your favorite, with a simple "thank you" from you. The atmosphere was oddly civil, considering the circumstances. Though no words had been exchanged yet, it was evident that both of you had let your guard down for the first time.

“Where do we begin?” he asked, his eyes betraying traces of recent tears.

“From the very beginning, where we both feigned indifference and claimed it was merely a casual thing with no strings attached,” you responded, a playful grin tugging at your lips.

"Wow, that was sharp," he quipped with a shy smile.

"Oh no, I'm just trying to be nice, given the circumstances," you remarked ironically.

"Can we just skip this teenage back-and-forth?" he asked, a hint of seriousness in his tone this time.

"Of course, dear. You've done nothing wrong, so you can ask for whatever you want," you said, settling into one of the armchairs in front of him, struggling to contain your sarcasm.

"I'm serious. Let's act like the adults we are. I know I've messed things up, but you're not a saint either, okay?" His Aries pride sometimes grated on you, despite how much he cared.

"Fine my love" you said, unable to hide your sarcasm, a defense mechanism he hated. "You show up at my hotel room uninvited; bring me coffee like we’re all good right after; firstly, treat me like a piece of meat the last time we had sex..."

"I was drunk. I know that's not an excuse, but—"

"You will let me finish before you dare to speak," You were on the brink of losing your composure, and he on the other side kept silent as you continued. "You have no idea how terrible I felt that day, and I still feel actually. And secondly, making assumptions? How many times have I talked to you about my friendship with Colin? I've never questioned any of your friendships—except for Kate, of course, which had my reasons to, and you know it " you chuckled to yourself before growing serious. "I have no problem admitting my mistakes. I provoked you by calling you a friend, which I know upset you. But it all traces back to our last night together. You seemed distant, like I was pressuring you into something you didn’t want to. I don't want to force you to do anything. I understand you have your own struggles, but I want you to understand mine as well." He was paying attention to your words, tears welled up in your eyes as you added, "What the hell are you so afraid of, dude?"

He was silent, but it wasn’t like he was throwing a tantrum; it was more like a kind of desperation, a fear of saying something he felt he shouldn't. “Pedro, talk to me,” you asked firmly. “There is no right or wrong answer; I just want to understand you, and I want you to understand me.”

He finally faced you, it was clear that he was searching for strength to spit it out. He finally said: "I’m afraid that you'll also leave me someday," his voice quivered, his hand trembling. He was visibly anxious. "I said those things to hurt you before you hurt me... because every time things start to feel right between us, it feels too good to be true, you know? I feel, i don’t know…like I don’t deserve it. Throughout the years, whenever I felt it was the right time, everyone…just… they just… left. So why should things be different now?" He held back tears as he gazed at you. "I wanted to be the one to walk away, not the one left behind," he confessed, searching for the right words. "But I… I can… I can’t just walk away from you, and that terrifies me."

You could sense his struggle, and despite your own issues, you were willing to give it a chance to make things clear. Seeing how difficult it was for him to express himself, you decided to do as you had suggested to him earlier: listen.

He continued, "While I want to be close to you, I fear you'll be my downfall. And it fucking hurts baby, it really does hurt. It's not that you're like a bad person, it’s the complete opposite, you're so fucking amazing." Tears streamed down his face as he faced you. "It's a kind of paradox that I can't escape... and you're like a calm presence amidst this chaos. Somehow, I don’t know... You manage to navigate through it… Despite your own issues and fears, you remain unafraid. I wish I could be like that. So I wouldn’t fuck things up and—“ he started crying nonstop.

"Hey..." You rose from your chair, for the first time, witnessing his true and raw vulnerability, a rare sight compared to your usual dynamic. While he was typically uninhibited, you tended to be much more reserved. Kneeling in front of him, you gently grasped his trembling hands, urging him to trust you. "Pedro, please look at me," you whispered, running your fingers through his hair. "Please... just look at me."

"I never meant to hurt you the way I did yesterday. I don't know why I—" he said through sobs.

"Shh, don't speak. Just try to listen," you interrupted, wanting him to find peace. You sought calmness, knowing you handled emotions differently from him.

"I never thought I could feel these feelings ever again—you appeared out of nowhere and… and… disrupted everything I've spent years building." He said it through sobs.

"By that, you mean the walls you've put up around yourself?" You questioned calmly, meeting his gaze. He nodded, tears glistening in his eyes again. Gently caressing his face, you offered reassurance. "I can't judge you. Somehow, you've managed to break down the walls around me as well. Even though you're quite different from anyone I've been drawn to before, you know?"

"What do you mean?" he inquired, trying to understand your words.

"You’re different from everything I’ve experienced—you're a friend, a caring listener, kind, intelligent, humble, funny, a bit stubborn, someone who admires and respects others," you began, opening up. "You're like a ray of sunshine after a storm, embodying everything that I am not."

"But… Why are you saying this?" he pressed, his expression reflecting a mix of curiosity and emotion.

"Because I want to do things differently this time.” You needed to say this. “I’m tired, you know? Not tired of you, I mean, in life in general… I’ve always been the one who kept my needs stored in a little box, waiting for the right moment to show them, and there is no right moment, man…There's no need to waste time hiding our true intentions, no desire to inflict or endure unnecessary pain like we both did to each other," you confessed, laying bare your intentions. “By the way, I’ve spent thousands of dollars in therapy all these years; I must make them worthy,” you added, trying to lighten the mood.

You felt his body relax under your touch, his tension easing. Continuing to stroke his hair, you remarked softly, “I never thought you were this fearful, Pedro. I am afraid too—all of this is new to me… I don't want to lose you or even walk away. But we need to take this leap together; we'll never know unless we try.”

“But... but I really don’t know what to do,” he admitted.

“There's no magic formula here. We were great friends before; now, we've added kissing and sex—amazing sex, I must add,” you quipped, eliciting his first chuckle.

“The way you put it makes it sound so simple,” he observed, visibly lightening up.

“Because it is. We've been seeing each other for months now. Our mistake was pretending it was casual when, deep down, we both knew it wasn't,” you emphasized. As he nodded in agreement, you continued, “Right from the start, we were both scared, hiding behind a facade of indifference like ‘oh cool, I like having sex and spending time with you’. —I care about us, about being with you, the real you. You can be honest with me, Pedro.” You needed to hear this from him. “Do you feel the same way?.”

“ I do. I want to be with you.” He said it once again, trying to find the right words. “You are everything that I always wanted. You are fuckin brave, fearless, wise, and a strong leader with a compassionate heart. You care for people’s wellness, command respect while remaining approachable,sexy as fuck…” You laughed at the small detail. “And you make me feel safer whenever I'm with you—sometimes I wish we had met before," he declared, now cupping your face in his hands.

"Things happen when they're meant to happen, Pedro. Remember how we first met in person? The fucking disaster," you remarked, chuckling softly as you held his hand that cradled your face. "Game of Thrones guy," you added with a smile.

“You should’ve seen your face the moment you saw me,” he chuckled. "Who would have imagined that nearly a year later, we'd be having this conversation?" he pondered.

"Definitely not me," you laughed.

Remaining in your shared moment, you both locked eyes for a few seconds. The tears had dried, and the silence was eventually broken by his whisper, "I'm sorry for everything I’ve done to you. I was an asshole—"

"It was a series of missteps from both sides," you murmured back, drawing closer to him. He instinctively drew you nearer, allowing your breaths to mingle. "Do you want to give us a chance? To try and make things right." Your voice was a gentle caress, melting into the air.

"I do, baby. I really do," he affirmed, cupping your face as he leaned in to kiss you tenderly. The weightlessness you felt after sharing your emotions made this kiss unlike any other; it wasn't a band-aid for past fights but a kiss brimming with genuine emotion. The way he held your face while you grasped his hand, the delicate touch as he guided you to sit on his lap. "I've missed you," he confessed, gazing into your eyes as his hands traced a path from your shoulders to your thighs, sending shivers down your spine.

"I've missed you too," you murmured between kisses. "Well, I mainly missed your body a bit more, if you catch my drift," you teased.

"Are you going to bring that up every time now?" he chuckled, drawing you closer. "I know, that was terrible. I’m sorry."

"Oh, you bet I won’t forget this easily," you agreed playfully.

"Baby?"

"What is it?" You said.

"Don't you think the bed would be more comfortable?" You could feel him on you, so you knew exactly what he meant.

"Yeah, I think... I will start to have cramps in a minute too, I can feel it," you joked.

"And you're the younger one here," he retorted.

"Well, we both know I’m far from young, but at least my back is holding up well," you bantered.

"Fuck you," he countered, lifting you up as he stood to take you to the bed.

"Actually, it's you who's supposed to fu—"

Before you could finish, he silenced you with a kiss. "I'll take care of that," he assured, his lips grazing your neck before returning to yours. "And I'll take my time until you're begging for more," he promised, his laughter mingling with yours. “As you aaaalways do,” he added.

“I like the idea,” you answered, as he now had your shirt lifted and was tracing kisses all over your sternum. As your fingers ran through his hair, he came back to kiss you.

"Baby,” he said, hesitant as you just hummed in response. He then continued looking into your eyes and asked, “Are we like a ‘we’, like me and you?”

"Yes, we are baby,” you said, smiling. "Yes, we are.”

“I’m not saying that just to say, ok?”

“Okay”

“But I want you to know that i…well… i kind of... I… I mean….” he struggled to find the word.

"I love you too," you giggled. "And can you believe I'm the hedgehog here?"

"You're totally a hedgehog; there's no doubt about it, even after all this time," he grinned. "And you, well, you're a real firecracker." He playfully traced your lips with his fingers, making you grin back at him.

"Te amo," he said, hugging you close as you gave him a soft kiss. It was the first time you both felt a new kind of connection, like finding a comfy spot, just like home, that felt just right. After all this time, something you both tried to find was already there, it just took some time for you to see.

Love wasn't just a word for passion; it was a mix of little things that went beyond the butterflies and excitement of seeing each other. These were things you both naturally did even when you were just friends, and it felt pretty amazing.

“And I thank you for bringing me here

For showing me home, for singing these tears

Finally, I've found that I belong here”

[murasakiirohana]

"i want the k"

kiss roulette 18. A kiss while laughing

To the say the two were enjoying themselves would be an understatement. Perhaps they were enjoying themselves too much, even. They were the host of the get-together after all. Shouldn't they be making sure the others were having a good time? Well, there hadn't been any complaints so far so they felt it was safe to say it was going well especially since they weren't the only ones on the dance floor. They had managed to put together quite the large gathering if they did say so themselves-- and they did. A number of times. They were far too inebriated to be humble it seemed.

"No one could pull off something like this like we did!" Ino finds herself shouting as she and Naruto bounced to the music alongside the many others on the crowded dance floor. They were in the center of it all, of course, the life of the party at their own party as Naruto had taken it upon himself earlier to pull Ino towards the middle of the dance floor once the two of them had had enough to drink for a while.

"'course not, we're the only ones that know how 'ta have fun!" the Uzumaki responds with equal enthusiasm as he grabs her hand to haphazardly twirl her, the abruptness of it causing the other blonde to fall forward as her hands landed on his chest and a series of giggles spilled from her. Ino and Naruto had went on and on about how they were doing this because everyone really needed a chance to relax, but maybe it was these two that had needed it the most.

The irony of it all is that these two had been at each other's throats half the time they had been planning this thing. It was hardly a cohesive meeting of the minds with the two rejecting each other's ideas and then letting bruised egos get in the way but they had somehow managed to pull it off. The fact that they were on speaking terms much less each others' primary dancing partners tonight was quite the spectacle with all that in mind.

Ino's had slide her hands up and past his head to rest her arms on his shoulder as his hands rest on her hips, the two continuing to sway happily to the music as the reveled in the atmosphere of it all. If they two managed to keep themselves coherent enough, this was really a night to remember.

A thought popped into Ino's head.

"Hey, hey," she starts, getting Naruto's attention without having to raise her voice too much since they were closer now, "We should promise to not plan parties with ANYONE else but each other, don't ya think?" The Uzumaki seems to agree as he quickly nods and Ino grins up at him, "Okay, cool, shake on it?"

"Sure, but ya know, my hands are kinda busy," the Uzumaki blurts out as if he couldn't simply take a hand off her hip to seal the deal. Ino can't help the laugh that escapes at his reasoning up until she moves her hands to the sides of his face and pulls him into a kiss. The kiss is brief enough that Ino doesn't pay much mind to it, even when Naruto gives her a peck in return after she pulls away, but glimmers of sobriety have a funny way of making an appearance at the worst of times.

What the hell was that?

It takes the rational part of her mind a good minute to meet with the inebriated part of her mind for an answer but then it finally clicks. Since they weren't able to shake on it, the blonde in her drunken state had decided to use another method of sealing the deal. Ino's eyes flicker up to the Uzumaki's and it seems like she's not the only one that just realized what happened.

To their credit, both of them still manage to keep dancing as they are hit with the realization, perhaps it was a subconscious attempt to try and pretend it didn't happen in the hope that no one else had noticed despite the two situating themselves in the center of the room. This doesn't last long, however, before Ino suddenly says, "Wanna get a drink? I could use a drink." and the two immediately make a beeline to bar in hopes that they can beat out their creeping sobriety before it makes things even worse.

This was certainly still a night they hoped their guests remembered, maybe just not that part.

[daiiyokai]

@blossomingbellflower

The names on his contacts list blurred as he scrolled down. Sesshomaru rests comfortably on his couch, shirt unbuttoned halfway through, pants and jacket thrown on the ground in a heap. He had a long, eventful day which he ended at the bar and drank to the point that Jaken had to drive him home.

usually, he would sleep his inebriation off, however tonight, Sesshomaru felt an unyielding URGE between his legs, which often came with the alcohol. and he just so happened to know exactly who to text to help him with his little problem...

He stops his scrolling once he came across a contact with the initials 'D.K'. and his lips curl in a smirk, in his currently flawed perception, he somehow firmly believed that the K belonged to his ex Kagura.

he presses on the messaging Icon, pulls down his boxers just enough for his IMPRESSIVE length to pop up, steers his phone camera so he can have a pictures of his cock and thighs and presses 'send'. He wouldn't take such risk in his sobriety but he trusted his ex to keep this between them and so he follows up with a text.

[ text ] Lt me use you to fix this. [ text ] Let*

[returntosaturn271995]

Later Leap day

On February 3rd I hit my fastest mile: 7:49 m

Today, after feeling awful and sad and smidge hopeless: I decided to finish my 25 K mile goal for the month. I did.

On February 29th I hit my fastest Kilometer: 4:46 m

To show things add up. To celebrate that I can move my body when others are in pain. To show something for this day that clicking against all the ground-up universe and inertia clogging my wheels. To acknowledge the suicide awareness search results that popped up when I googled my anti-depressants.

To show up in gratitude. For the ocean on my walk and the sweet dogs and neighbors around me. For my family. For my health. For my safety. For the burgers and sweet potatoes, I easily made for lunch. For books and access to education. For comedy. For therapy and meds and cleanly made bedrooms. For my job. For sobriety. For kindness and all things naturally occurring and beautiful and for all the beautiful things we feel are almost supernaturally hard to fight for. For the 1% extra effort I made today and the tangible betterness I feel due to it. For tomorrow, but first today.

All time is borrowed and today belongs to me and I to it for such an ephemeral burst. Even as I'm raw and chafe against it.

I'm still so fucking lucky to get to waste time at all.

[krazys-ass-emporium]

Someone who knows how to make gifs should make a companion piece to that "Celibacy" gif with the k-pop boys that's "Sobriety"

[dustedmagazine]

King Louie Bankston — Harahan Fats (Goner Records)

King Louie Bankston, who passed away in February 2022 a little shy of his 50th birthday, will one day fit into the hallowed pantheon of New Orleans’s larger-than-life musical eccentrics. These are oddballs and outsiders and obsessives walking their own paths — Ernie K-Doe, Lazy Lester, post-Memphis Alex Chilton, Guitar Lightnin’ Lee, Quintron and Miss Pussycat, to name just a few — who stumble onto momentary household notoriety (to greater and much lesser degrees) through the sheer force of their creative will. Louie walked tall right beside them. 

Louie’s roots are planted firmly in the garage and punk scene of the late-1980s and early-1990s, which he located as one often does via an obsession with skateboarding. While he laid down some quality scorched-earth trash that might not initially be associated with traditional New Orleans music, Louie cast his net wide — from The Royal Pendletons to the Persuaders to his one-band to Loose Diamonds and Missing Monuments — knowing that it was all just music at the end of the day. While he would find perhaps his biggest success as a songwriter and auxiliary member of the Exploding Hearts, whose cult hit “I’m a Pretender” he penned, he was always writing, always recording, and always flipping the script, all the while keeping his creative voice firmly intact.

The posthumous release Harahan Fats (a nod to his hometown of Harahan, Louisiana), recorded over roughly a four-year period concluding in 2021, captures both the musical and personal contradictions of the man. It’s a sad, funny, catchy, messy, genuinely heartful record that works as both a nice introduction to an extensive career and a regrettably consummate postscript. 

Musically, the songs run the line from rickety power-pop janglers to country two-steppers to gospel-tinged, a cappella laments to dark, folk-tinged confessionals. Melodies and riffs and guitar licks feel instantly familiar but hard to pin down, as if they could only come from the scrambled brain of a genuine iconoclast. Louie’s irreverent humor is on full display on songs such as “Drunk at Work” and the bawdy ode to life’s basic necessities “Air Conditioning, Cold Drinks, Pickles & Pussy.” Other songs work as two-minute musical pulp novels, with Louie as the bandit on the run in the gritty world of the underground punk scene; a power-pop songwriter hopping trains, robbing banks, and running from the law. 

But there’s also an unflinchingly dark underbelly here that would be present whether Louie was still around or not. That he’s not, certainly doesn’t make those moments any brighter. It’s a darkness, though, born out of a commendable honesty. His reworking of “Rehab Legend,” an obscure rap song by Cadalack Ron, is searing and heartbreaking. He gives no quarter as he recounts fuck up after fuck up in brutal detail. Other songs aren’t quite as direct, but there are frequent references to addiction, regrets, attempted amends and the acknowledgment that life’s struggles can simply be too much to handle. That Louie passed so young is a sad reminder of the reality of such concerns. 

But this plaintiveness combined with Louie’s preternatural songwriting ability elevate this record to an instant classic. It cannot be overstated how easily these songs flow, and that effortlessness, rather than making the record feel tossed off, creates an intimacy you wouldn’t necessarily expect to find. As if Louie is saying to us, “Well, if country and rap and pop and garage and gospel and punk can go hand in hand then you can bet that laughter and tragedy and sobriety and backsliding and life and death and pickles and pussy do as well.”

Nate Knaebel

[murios-archive]

‘ by the way , you’ve been uninvited . ’ diego @ klaus

𝐇𝐈𝐒  𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒  𝐀𝐑𝐄  𝐕𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘  𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐊,    as he stares right through his brother,   not truly seeing  (  or  hearing  him  ).   this is a near permanent state when it comes to diego’s self-righteous fucking attitude,   and klaus takes a long drag from his cigarette before blowing it out slowly right in diego’s face.

          ❛  oh.   no.   whatever  will  i   do  ?  ❜       it’s deadpan,   sarcasm clinging to the words as he leans forward,   focus finally finding its way into his eyes.   he’s not  high,   just doesn’t want to be having this conversation,  especially when diego is looking at him with all of that judgment in his eyes.     ❛  uninvited   —   to  the  place  i’ve  been  avoiding  for  years  ?    man,   you  know,  i  think  i  might  cry.  ❜

abruptly,   he stands,   buttoning his coat and dropping the butt of the cigarette right on the floor.   he doesn’t need this   ——barely wanted to be here in the  first  place   and  certainly  doesn’t want to see that look in his brother’s eyes for another goddamn second.    ❛  fine.   i’m  gone,  ❜    ben is already groaning in frustration,   but klaus is beyond listening.     ❛  ——but  you’re  own  your  own,   brother,  don’t  call  me   —   i  don’t  want  anything  to  do  with  this  shit,   i  came  to  celebrate,   and  i  can  do  that  without  you  idiots.    ❜     mouthing apologies to ben   (  he  is  arguably  the  least  idiotic  of  them  all,   —and  klaus  is  the  only  one  who  gets  to  enjoy  it  )    he retrieves an unlit cigarette from his pocket,   already heading for the door.     

          ❛  toodles,   see  you  next  funeral  !  ❜

𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒   »   @mercycried​

[notathingjustthere]

Obstinacy

Writer’s note: I posted this last year to start a writing blog but deleted it because of school. It’s summer  and now I wanna try again so here is this angsty bit, until I write something new.

Pairing: Jumin Han / Reader

Word Count: 2523

“You kept my clothes?”

It had been years since you stepped into this house. His house. You’d thought three years was long enough to get over someone, expecting him to have moved on. Hoping his desire for you had tired out after the long empty wait.

Here you sat, in his bathroom, a towel covering you as you inwardly worked toward sobriety. Shared memories with him kept bombarding through, some were of the space you had once called your own.

Jumin was pleased in his own way when your contact had popped up on his screen. For a moment he felt a tinge hopeful before answering on the fourth vibration.

“Hello?”

You were drunk when he arrived and he was disappointed, to say the least. Being so vulnerable in such an establishment did not settle well with him. Of course, you would never indulge in such menacing situations unplanned. You had called him sober, with the intent of being intoxicated upon his arrival.

You were almost at your goal before he walked in, too distracted by your conversation to notice him walking toward you. The bar had been fairly crowded, as he disregarded your “little friend”, as he had referred to it, and gently grabbed your arm. Jumin whispered harshly into your ear after helping you up, then made way to the exit.

You had giggled when he led you out, his face remained stoic as he was clueless about what was so amusing.

“Hi Mr. K-kim” you waved at the familiar awaiting driver who held the door open. He smiled whilst shutting the door, and you fixed yourself comfortably next to Jumin, who still would not budge. The ride back had been silent and short, time had lost you until the door opened again with him ready to help you out.

Now you sat in the same bed you shared years ago, facing him in silence as he stared at you testingly. The loud ticking of the clock served as a nuisance as you still tried to get your thoughts straight. Deciding you had waited long enough you gathered yourself onto the bed, preparing for sleep.

“If you’re not going to say anything then goodnight”

Jumin remained seated with his eyes still directed at you, he watched you throw the sheets over yourself and adjust yourself comfortably. It did not take long to hear your light breathing and occasional soft snores. After minutes passed of stillness, he sighed and made his way towards the bathroom, calling it a night.

He had emailed Jaehee about cancelling his meetings for the day as he would not be available. She would eventually give him a hard time for the short notice and inconvenience but that didn't seem to matter at the moment.

He joined you in bed, laying down behind you, hesitant to touch you as if you were so fragile and would break. Building the confidence, he wrapped an arm around you, fixing himself closer to embrace your scent and welcoming warmth.

Varying thoughts clouded his mind, making it difficult for him to fall asleep. Why had you just now appeared after disappearing all those years? Had you been in the city all this time? Were you still as curious of him as he was of you?

You moved and turned to him unconsciously, your eyes still closed. He smiled when he noticed you getting comfortable in his arms, wanting to be closer. He had missed your restless sleep habits, he had missed you so much and hoped you felt the same. He caved into a cuddle not wanting to let you go again, deciding his thoughts could wait another day. All that mattered at the moment was you in his arms.

***

It was sunny when you woke up to the subtle sweet smell of pancakes, his favourite. Although you preferred waffles to the latter the delicious gesture was always appreciated. You felt the gentle brush of Elizabeth the third, who was laid comfortably on your legs when you attempted to stretch.

Your face turned towards the nightstand instinctively for your phone, an eye roll seemed called for when you noticed it was not there. You had an idea as to where it was so decided to pay it no mind.

The walk to the kitchen was slow as your body kept to its morning sluggish movements. You stood at the door, abstractedly admiring the man of the hour’s take at domesticity. He was so focused on preparations, you thought he didn't hear you come in.

“Good morning love”

You hummed airily in response as you sat at the table. The guilt ate at you, it was selfish to call last night after leaving him for so long. You didn't know if you planned to stay either, but you knew he had decided otherwise.

He was so decisive, always knowing what he wanted. You envied it. The uncertainty endured over the years left you hollow. It didn't help that he was always so ready to love when you couldn't decide if you wanted to love. Maybe it was unfair of you to lead him on, or maybe he had been naive to think of you more than a friend. To fall for you.

You had been happy. No, content. The long-lived friendship had mutually developed into this unspoken intimacy you both allowed to remain unacknowledged. Maybe that's why leaving had been somewhat easy for you.

Your disappearance had been a spontaneous decision, Jumin who never expected it was left underwhelmed. He had also been happy alongside you, content as well. The trust he had built throughout your shared childhood always kept him going, so he had been pained when you just upped and left. He played it cool over the years after your vanishing, forcing a numbness that only you could reveal.

“Here you go” he placed a neatly plated stack in front of you along with the kettle of black tea. He sat across from you with his own scrumptious plate and passed you the milk and maple syrup.

You gave him a cheery grateful smile as you helped yourself to some breakfast. It’d been three years since you last shared a meal with him, the pleasure from the first bite in your mouth was gratifying. The moment was pleasant, but you knew it could only last for so long with the look he gave you.

Attempting to divert from his obvious curiosity, you asked about his father.

“Father is well, and so is yours. We all shared dinner the other night.”

“Mmhh” You nodded as you helped yourself to another bite.

“What, no work today?” You followed up, playing innocent after a few more aimless questions

“I see you are still stubborn” Jumin’s sudden harsh response was of no surprise, but you wished the distraction had lasted a bit longer.

“I can say the same for you” You challenged.

“Why do you insist on escaping this?”

You calmly sighed, taking a sip of your milk tea. “We are too much alike and you know that”

“What's so wrong with that?”

Your sigh was louder this time and you murmured to yourself, regretting not going against the phone call.

“Where did you go? Where have you been?”

“Far”

It was his turn to roll his eyes at your vague response. Jumin’s instant reactions were anticipated and he failed to not disappoint as he bombarded you with questions.

“Why did you come back then?” He chose to conclude with his assault.

“I don't know you tell me.” You knew he could answer most of his questions with a simple scan through your mobile device, which you knew he had already done.

The last time he left you home alone, had been the last time he saw you in three years, as you had made sure to leave no traces for him. You had your own resources but chose against using them as you wished to dissipate from existence.

You were successful, given the new chance to start over somewhere else. You never understood why you felt that way or why you still did, yet somehow you did know?

Jumin placed your phone on the table, sliding it over towards you in return. He had the serious look in his eye that he always wore, his semi-empty plate pushed to the side.

“My first and last question still stands”

You never did like confrontations or anything that you considered to be mentally or emotionally strenuous. Neither did he, yet here he was justly contributing to your headache.

Before any more words were exchanged, or any chance at a proper conversation the elevator dinged and a woman stepped out with one of the guards attempting to hold her back.

The scene before you served as a great diversion, you coyly smiled as your attention went towards the unexpected magenta haired guest.

***

Jumin’s palm took to his forehead, his annoyance evidently loud. The uninvited guest walked in forcefully, greeting the man she seemed so desperate to see.

“It's rude to keep me waiting at the gates, that's no way to treat your fiance.”

Her eagerness faltered when her eyes turned to you, a frown now played on her face.

“And who is this?” She asked, seemingly disgusted by your presence.

“Oh, I’ve heard so much about you! The supposed future Mrs. Han!” You jumped to reply lightheartedly, moving your hand in for a handshake.

Jumin could not decide what exactly he sensed from your act but he knew it was something different. Were you joking? Or were you serious? He could no longer tell, with you.

“I'm sorry sir, she wouldn’t wait at the gate” the nervous yet vexed bodyguard apologised.

Jumin waved him away and turned towards the nuisance that stood in his presence. He had hoped the day together would be progressive as emotional issues were being sorted out, but apparently, life had its own ideas.

“Sarah, was it? Chairman has said so much about you”

“And when exactly did you talk to my father?” Jumin asked you curiously.

Was he not the first person you contacted on your return? He would never admit it but the idea of not being first to hear from you was rather upsetting.

Three nights ago you had arrived home at an ungodly hour, your parents were not aware until that morning when the help had prepared breakfast for three. They had questioned the extra seat until you walked in still in your pajamas. It was an interesting morning nevertheless.

“Oh, may I see the ring? I just want to see if it's as lovely as the one he gave me.” You coyly smiled.

Sarah looked up at you confused, the silence did not help soothe the awkward tension. Jumin did not understand how he missed the ring on your finger, the one he had picked to ask your hand. You had agreed at the time, then disappeared without a trace. Now you stood in front of him playing with the item as though customary.

You always wore the ring so blithely before but had been wary. You were unsure of what to expect with your departure, whether he had been heartbroken or if he would ever move on. Each day you were reminded about the life you could have had with him, a life you may have wanted.

It was not that you were jealous but rather self-assured. Jumin had waited as you selfishly expected, by exploiting his fondness you got something you might have wanted. You never did find whatever it was that you set out to look for, nonetheless here you both stood next to each other.

Jumin’s possessiveness never sat well with you, but slowly you learned that maybe you were just as proprietorial as he was. It was so subtly instilled that you denied it for so long. Reality had come crashing when he asked for your hand in marriage, and even though you expected the gesture you somehow were still unprepared.

The gradual passing comments from either parent had made prospects seemingly clear. Perhaps it was your distaste for the arranged marriage that called for fleeing. Years of grooming and preparations done for the both of you were beneficial towards your legacies. Despite that your planned union was the foundation towards a future empire, you both cared for each other and showed it in your own pernicious ways.

“What is this Jumin? A joke?” Sarah had finally found words to share her annoyance.

Jumin’s eyes were focused on you, his initial indifference had faltered and he was now very amused. Sarah’s fuming had left her face a bit red, neither of them had entertained her remark.

“I had lunch with your father two days ago, he seemed very pleased to see me back”

“So you’re staying then,” Jumin asserted. There was silence at that, you were unsure of a decision and had withheld from giving it any thought.

“You met with my father before contacting me.” He was bitter, and that much was evident in his statement, when you did not respond he turned to his unwanted guest.

“Fortunately, I cannot see you off. I will call for someone to escort you out.”

“You can’t do that to your future wife! It's not right!” she snapped.

You had heard about the alleged engagement when you returned home, your parents inevitably brought it to your attention that morning.

“As you can see I already have a fiance.” Jumin moved towards you and wrapped an arm around you. “It is strange how delusional you are. I don’t even know you”

The elevator dinged again, Sarah screamed obscenities as the guard from before led her out forcefully.

When the doors closed, you let out a breath you unconsciously held in, Jumin tilted his head to look at your face as he hugged you from behind. You embraced the hug, silently battling your overwhelming thoughts. You both did not know what would happen from that second going on but decided to simply revel at the moment.

“You still wear my initials,” You noticed the customised watch you had gifted him at some point in your arguably deploring relationship. He chuckled and rested his chin on your head.

“And you kept the ring”

You released his arms around you and turned to face him, you had dragged out your stubbornness long enough and after the interaction with Sarah, you were exhausted. Meeting his eyes, you rested your arms around his neck and prepared your thoughts to speak, something you had been avoiding for so long.

“Look, you have every right to hate me. I know It was very selfish of me to call you last night, and as much as it was, I just didn't know how to properly address this”

“I know love. V tells me I can be very overwhelming” Jumin attempted to console as he chuckled.

Elizabeth the Third’s purring interrupted the very short-lived moment, however, it relieved the long felt tension. You both had a lot to discuss and figure out, but until then it seemed that things would be okay in your own baffling ways.

Thank you for reading! :)

[winebleeds]

by popular request here’s a look at the spencers’ celebrity verses.

FIRST OFF. certain plots may change the dynamic of the spencers or if the spencers knew your muse(s) as children. aka, if robert ... yeah robert, threw all four kids into stardom without them ever really having a say in it, where maybe he became semi popular at some point before ellesmere gobbled him back up. in this case, the spencers would be use to the spotlight since children & could even be kid stars (like being on d*sney) before molding into the celebrity selves mentioned below. otherwise, everything follows the main timeline, except one (or two, with liz & maddie) of the spencers decide to incorporate themselves in hollywood. here, only the one spencer is well known as the other live normal lives. if we do go with the ‘all spencers were celebs’ verse, then the way that happens can be privately discussed. otherwise, the following are based on the other siblings having normal lives. heck, maddie’s main verse is her trying to go into the music industry, so she main can easily meet other celebs. NOW, onto the individual verses.

ELIZABETH AND MADDIE

but pineapple didn’t you say indi- yes, but these two are integral for their verses. even if the focus for this verse is liz being more popular than maddie, they both influence each other AND are involved in their separate careers, that you cannot separate them in terms of explaining this verse, aka if liz decide to sing songs for a living.

here, instead of asking about how things are fixed, a young liz finds herself interested about how people make music. it’s still building upon broken or new parts, creating songs out of them or learning instruments instead of wrenches. robert, always wanting a high status, sees his young daughter’s interest & upcoming talent as a potential way to climb that social ladder; he may not get her into politics, but she was going to be a star. 

so her free time surrounded in the studios and music lessons instead of horses & books. some of her mix tapes went to producers, robert bought an apartment in nashville for longer stays. around this time, maddie is born, but liz is too busy caught in the whirlwind of the life robert is now forcing onto her, & the pending divorce between her parents. this confusion brought years of writing material down the road. the heartbreak & separation in her personal songs isn’t about lovers people love to interpret. no, it was a broken family that led to the broken persona.

by the time maddie can truly remember, elizabeth had begun a true music career. her first album came out with somewhat success; better than mediocre but nothing too mainstream yet. but the country scene is talking about the teenager becoming a future staple with more practice. so a major producer took liz in as a protégé. her first tour was her being an opening for the z*c br*wn band alongside her first album. (later down the road, a popular video of hers on youtube is a live footage of her covering ‘highway 20 ride’ with them)

& all a young maddie can do is look at awe. she doesn’t really see too much of her older sister, but that older sister showed maddie how to play guitar, how words connect into musical poetry, telling her who was who. even as maddie grew to not like the country genre that elizabeth is heading towards, maddie’s love for music only enhance, deciding to live with robert & elizabeth in when the courts ask maddie where she wants to go. 

but when maddie is of age to tell the courts she wants to live with robert, nowin la, elizabeth had three albums, the second a surprising platinum & on country charts. the closest of high school for her was music videos with the school setting. she captures the teenage spirit while holding herself with a posture of maturity. and that maturity grows with her college third album, departing from country into the top 40 pop. the start of her 20s brought her to la & stardom... but, oh, does she hate it. even more as her father savors in it.

one of her biggest scandals (besides being known as a heartbreaker) comes from a panic attack in front of the paparazzi's around the time of her third album, when her claustrophobia took over. and her claustrophobia still hasn’t gone away; people that used to work for elizabeth know of her tears in bathroom until she was able to recoup. she’s able to hide this better now that she’s six albums & 5 tours in as of 2021. these later album mix her pop & country genres, integrating into folk & the alternative of her actual preference. some of her signatures have been not changing pronouns of covers or singing songs with she/her, alluding to her bisexuality. but people go in depth in interpreting songs they know of her own, with her and another spencer on credit...

because many songs under elizabeth are a joint effort with her sister, the better songwriter but less famous. it has brought jealousy with maddie, knowing the pop status made elizabeth a household name. but maddie is a bassist/songwriter in a band in a niche alternative rock group, & she adores those fans... and maddie sometimes feel lucky, sometimes, knowing the paparazzi are less involved than the panic they bring to elizabeth. and, even though they have enough money to live on their own in the hollywood hills, they live in the same mansion together. even at the surface shows separate lives, they both need each other, wanting to make up lost time of lost childhoods through this common interest of songs. and, seeing how music makes maddie smile, elizabeth may consider her current life is worth it... for her sunshine...

JAMIE 

sadly, i won’t go into the details i did for maddie & liz. but, jamie as four scenarios. first, is the generic actor au where he often plays jocks in earlier shows & more comedic roles (like being frequent on snl) though he wants to break from that pretty boy status with his newfound sobriety. this may play more into the all spencers found stardom.

the next two can fit into the main timeline. instead of getting too injured to play football, jamie does end up in the nfl, where he can mingle with the popular crowds. then, there’s the sports announcer au. instead of fitness training after his downfall, he decides to go into a possible career of announcing the sport he once played or other sports. while not entirely popular here and just gaining a face, he’s a pretty face. might even take a small tv role.

finally, and perhaps the most sought after, is his dancer au. here, dancing replaces football (perhaps br*tney sp*ars had a bigger influence on him), especially if he meets irene earlier and follows her around. this could be him becoming a dancer in a company (aka ballet) or he’s a known background dancer for music videos. so he doesn’t have mainstream status, but known in the industry. most likely to be set up to date someone either in popularity or look slightly more relatable. 

RALEIGH

he’s a director / producer / writer, so he stays behind the scenes. but he does have a grammy under his belt. and while he’s been told he has movie star looks, he doesn’t like being on the camera, just behind it. even for the verses where he was once a child actor. maybe he even started writing / working with medical shows before dramatic movies & even a documentary. 

[knjnvrland]

Prank Wars - ch. 2

> pairing | jungkook x reader

> word count | 2.5k

> genre | college!au, fluff, smut

> warnings | swearing, alcohol consumption

> synopsis | College can be a stressful time in anyone’s life as it is, why don’t we throw a little prank war in the mix to make it harder?

> fic masterlist

> A/N | English is not my first language, I’m sorry for the eventual spelling mistake, please let me know if you find any! 

CHAPTER 2 - Dying it Red

Getting past the embarrassment of your first day of classes, when everyone would stare at your stained clothes, the next couple of the weeks flew by fairly smooth. You made a few acquaintances in classes, which was enough for group projects and study dates, and found your way around campus with the help of your brothers and your brother’s friends. Your friends now, too. You had lunch with at least one of them every day and stopped by Jin’s cafe almost every morning for a free snack that your brother basically forced into you, using you as a guinea pig for the recipes he was trying. It was alarmingly easy to get into the new routine. 

“Then you press this button and wait for the light to turn green.” Alice was helping you out with your laundry, teaching you how to work the machines at the basement of the student's dorms. “Just be careful to be here when the timer is done, otherwise someone might take your clothes out and who would want another person’s hands in their underwear?” She played around when the harsh sound of the washing machine began, letting you know it was doing it’s job.

“Babe?” A male voice called, descending the last steps of the stairs, and you both turned around to face Yoongi with another boy trailing behind.

“Hey Yoongs, we were just finishing here.” Alice smiled warmly at her boyfriend. “Long time no see, Jungkook.” She then turned to the messy haired boy all dressed in black, walking to him and wrapping her hands around his waist. She probably couldn’t reach all the way around his neck, as her hugs usually went, because of how tall the boy was. “This is y/n, the Kim’s baby sister.” She stepped away and signaled to you, and that’s when you realized that this handsome guy in front of you was also the asshole that ruined your otherwise perfect first day.

“We actually met before.” You smiled with your lips tight together, trying to hide your annoyance. “He bumped into me on my first day here.” At that Alice let her mouth hung open, joining the dots in her head but not adding to the conversation.

“Really? I don’t remember you.” The boy looked confused, clearly being genuine on his lack of memory of the accident. Well, how could he remember you when he didn’t even had the decency to turn around and apologize that day. “Nice to meet you, anyway.” He smiled at you but you turned around, pretending to be entertained by the rotation of the washing machine.

Yoongi, sensing the tense atmosphere, wrapped his arm around his girlfriend’s shoulder. “If we don’t leave now we might miss the beginning of the film.”

“Are you coming y/n?” Alice asked.

“Nah, I have to wait for this to be finished and then I might drop by Joonie’s place, but thanks anyway.” Jungkook was already at the stairs again when you finished answering, not bothering to say goodbye at all. Alice noticed it and gave you a sympathetic smile, leaving with Yoongi behind the youngest boy.

“What an idiot.” You let out a sigh and pulled out your phone to text your sibling’s group chat about meeting up later, you might as well enjoy your Friday night with them somehow.

“That's cheating!” Taehyung yelled. “You can’t all team up against me!”

“Sorry Tae, y/n never played before, we’re just helping her out.” Namjoon explained, just as Jin killed Taehyung for the third time in a row.

Jin picked you up and you ended up at the boys' place. Jimin had a date and Hoseok was practicing late, so you and your brothers had the apartment all to yourselves. You ordered pizza and revived the old playstation 2 that was the center of so many fights between the three boys growing up. You were never a tomboy, in a house with so much testosterone, your mother made sure to keep you by her side, dressing you up in girly dresses and gifting you all the dolls you would ask. Don’t get it wrong, you could still beat Taehyung in a play fight any day, and had your fair share of scraped knees and quick trips to the hospital because you were playing a little bit too harsh trying to keep up with your older siblings, but videogames were never really your thing.

“She's fine! You don’t need to help her every time we play something new.” He whined, letting go of the controller to grab another slice of greasy muzzarela pizza. It was true, you were a fast learner and definitely didn’t need your brothers teaming up to help you out.

“But it’s funnier this way.” You stated, taking advantage and killing Taehyung once again when his guard was down because he was shoving the entire pizza into his mouth.

“Hey!” He complained with his mouth full. “That's it, I give up, you guys suck.”

“Don't be such a baby.” Jin shoved Taehyung’s shoulder with his own. “We'll play nice next round.”

“I’m not asking you to play nice, I’m asking you to play fair.” he pouted.

Namjoon patted Tae in the head. “It’s alright, we won’t count this one on the final score.”

“But I still won.” you gloated, finishing off Jin’s character on the game when they were all distracted and standing up to grab another soda from the kitchen.

“I trusted you!” The eldest shouted dramatically and you laughed to yourself, proud of your definitely-not-fair victory.

You brought back drinks for everyone as a way to say sorry, and you all settled, trying to choose another game to play next. Namjoon was distracted by his phone, texting someone non stop. Jin snatched the phone out of the other boy’s hand to read without permission, and both of them started wrestling on the ground for the device.

“Give it back!” Namjoon was on his side with his legs wrapped around Jin’s waist while Jin was laying on the ground, chest down with one of his arms pushing Namjoon’s face away and the other trying to keep the phone as far away as possible. You already knew what would happen next before Taehyung even made the first move to stand up, so you were prepared when the phone flew to your hands, being snatched by Tae from the pile of limbs tangled on the floor and thrown at you before he was pulled into the mess.

You scrolled through the texts in the open conversation and handed the phone back to Namjoon, who had given up and was on the floor, red faced and short of breath. 

“It's just a party.” You informed the other two.

“Who’s? Where? When?” Taehyung eagerly wanted to know.

“Some guy named Jackson? I don’t know, it sounds like it’s at a fraternity.” You answered, not really interested and just wanting to go back to the game.

“It’s at Delta Sigma.” Namjoon clarified. “It’s next weekend and it sounds like it’s going to be big, it’s their beginning of the school year party and they’re introducing their new boys to the world, I guess?”

“Oh, we’re definitely going.” Jin stated. “I went to a lot of their parties when Mark was still living there and it’s always legendary. Also, they have the best booze."

Namjoon went through the details while Jin sent a text to the group chat with the rest of your friend group to let them know and soon after everyone -even Yoongi- was in. You chose the next game and the four of you went back to playing and bickering as if you were still teenagers in your home’s living room.

“Can I borrow this earring?” Alice asked you, popping her head into the bathroom where you were doing your make up. You nodded and she disappeared again.

The party began an hour ago, but Yoongi was finishing his shift at the radio and he was your lift there, so the two of you could take your sweet time getting ready to go. The week went by fast and, apart from having to see Jungkook more now that he was settled into his new apartment and finally began hanging out with the rest of the group, you couldn’t complain. He still had no idea why you were always so cold with him, but made no effort to find out either, assuming you were just a little bit closed off. He was also driving there with you, taking advantage of Yoongi’s promise of sobriety and the fact that they lived in the same building, and you had made up your mind that, by the end of the night, you would make him apologize to you for ruining your favorite shirt and the perfect planned first impressions you intended on making on your classmates.

Just as you were finishing applying your lipstick, Alice’s phone rang and she letted you know that Yoongi was waiting downstairs, so you grabbed your phone, handed your keys to your roomate, letting her responsible for it, and walked out the door.

The ride there was quiet, Jungkook ended up going earlier with the rest of the boys and only needed Yoongi as a ride back home later, so you didn’t have to sit through the uncomfortable silence that would've settled if he was on the back sit with you. When you got there you could tell people were already wasted. You spotted Hobi right away, he was chugging down god knows how much beer at once and being cheered on by a group of people around him. Yoongi left to find Namjoon and tell him about some new project and Alice made her way to where the alcohol was with you trailing behind her. 

Jimin was there with a group of people, mostly girls and, of course, Jungkook. Alice said hi to them and you waved, not really wanting to introduce yourself to the strangers in the group and specially not very keen on getting another step closer to the boy who spilled his coffee on you and never apologized. Did I mention he never apologized? Because he never did. What an asshole. Jimin handed you a shot and you poured it down your throat without even asking what it was. You were not really a big party person, and the only way to get through it was getting shit faced drunk, and that’s what you were planning on doing.

You spent most of your time dancing with Jimin and Alice, or by the kitchen filling your cup. You bumped into your brothers but honestly, you were not really into the idea of seeing them make out with random people or embarrass you with their drunk dancing, so you kept your distance. You would bump into Jungkook every now and then as well, and Alice had to keep you from going up to him and making a scene. You just wanted him to apologize, really, but you were not sure you could let him know that without calling him a few names you thought suited him much better then ‘Jungkook’ before.

It was just a second that Alice turned around to look for her boyfriend and you were already gone from her sigh. You were a little bit tipsy, sure, but you could get a drink by yourself without your friend constantly by your side. On the way to the kitchen you even had a small conversation with a handsome stranger with light eyes and dreamy lips that you were sure would not have happened if you had Alice with you. You were looking for another beer, just to drown your nerves a little bit and go find that godlike creature again, when you spotted Jungkook. There was a girl standing by your side with a tall red cup filled with god knows what and you didn’t think twice before gabbing it and throwing it. Your aim must have been a little off though, because instead of hitting your target, the splash of alcohol landed on the person beside him, who just happened to be your brother.

“Y/n what the fuck?!” Taehyung turned around to find you frozen in place looking as guilty as ever. The group of people around them took a step back from the mess and Jungkook started laughing hysterically.

“Sorry Tae that wasn’t for you.” The words barely audible over the loud noise of people talking around you. You had no idea what had gotten into you and could feel your face getting warm. “I was aiming at Jungkook.” 

At that the other boy stopped his laughter and looked offended at you. “What? Why?”

“Because you should learn some manners, asshole!” You couldn’t hold back you annoyance even though you knew you were overreacting, but the alcohol in your blood took control of your ability to filter your words and you would rather have people think you were red because of anger then because of shame. Taehyung started to laugh then, not really understanding what was happening, but amused seeing you argue with someone that wasn’t him for once.

“What have I ever done to you?” Jungkook was just as confused as your brother.

Before you could answer and give him a little bit of your mind, Alice and Namjoon walked in and found the absolute mess you had made. See, the drink you threw was a dark shade of red, and the kitchen had white tiles and white cabinets all around that were now all tainted a lovely shade of pink, as was your brother’s bleached hair and light clothes.

“Dude what happened?” Namjoon was the first to speak, but Tae just waved him off, finding the situation more funny then anything else. He could get back at you later anyway, and growing up with you gave him the ability to read you better then anyone else, so the act you were putting to sound tough didn’t mean a thing to him and he was enjoying seeing how far you would go to hide you embarrassment.

“Maybe I should take y/n home.” Alice stated, grabbing the empty cup from your hand and leaving it on the counter, as if disarming you of a powerful weapon. She then passed her arm through your waist and led you to the door. You could only follow along, unable to react when you fully realized what just happened.

Finding Yoongi was easy, he was on his way to the kitchen and met you halfway, not needing any explanation before following the both of you to his car. The drive home was silent, apart from some underground rap song playing from Yoongi’s sound system and Alice calling a friend of hers who was at the party to see if they could give Jungkook a ride home later. You laughed to yourself, remembering the boy's face when he realized the target was him, and that alone made it worth it. The fact that you stole his ride back was just a plus to the situation. He was a handsome boy, you couldn’t deny it, so wiping that bunny smile from his face gave you more pleasure than you were able to put into words. You would have stopped there, honestly, but deep down you knew that what took place at the party was just the beginning.

> A/N | It /really/ starts here, I guess. Have a nice day, wherever and whoever you are :)

TAGLIST IS OPEN

[kittyrenee-c]

You told me I was a refined weapon of self-destruction.

A keen sense of reality,

pushing its limits beyond sobriety.

A poisonous abyss thats been constructed

from the chaotic nature of like minded strangers.

You told me I should wear it proudly.

A choice ive made to not believe,

abhorrent of pop cultures love of relief

A sinful little doll filled with tragic casualties

Dear Johnny, please set her free.

You told me I was in the heavy hard hitting end of life.

A Zephyr of charging monstrous winds,

Be wary of the force, gentlemen

A call for spring is coming with a daunting knife

Suicide isnt instant its coexistent.

You told me I should smile while I defy the lies that pacify the masses.

A machine that knocks them down in their lusts,

Their freedom of speech to say the word "love"

A bitter lure that drags them in like flowers and a casket

Atropine and platinum indulgences causing convulsions.

You told me I was a refined weapon of self-destruction.

A deadly nightingale of melodious tune,

dripping wine soaked honey irish creme before noon

A blood stained porcelain woman of addiction and seduction.

Pretty little devil made up of gasoline, nicotine, caffiene, Dramamine, guillotines, velveteen, labrynthine, dandelion green, morphine, amphetamines, Queen of the fucking obscene!

-k. renee

[queerhargreeves]

hi again :)) Trans!diego is near and dear to my heart and this is me projecting/venting my dysphoria onto my angel boys and nb love. this could be really triggering so pls read w caution ! yet another fic written too late at night on little sleep

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Diego woke up with a jolt as he frantically eyed his room. He looked over at the clock which read “2:26 AM”. He sighed, running a hand down his face. Waking up during the wee hours of 2 - 4 AM had become an unfortunate common occurrence lately. After successfully avoiding the end of the world it was sort of difficult to think about life clearly again. He’d become a bit lost on what he wanted to do. He knew he couldn’t play pretend cop forever just like he knew the Umbrella Academy couldn’t last forever. Even if they had come together to save the lives of billions.

However it took about two more seconds before he registered the dampness beneath him. He froze, the smell of dead skunk quickly slapping him in the face.

Silently, Diego stood up. The sticky/damp feeling growing to be too uncomfortable. He turned on a lamp to assess the damage. His baby blue sheets looked like a murder scene.

When he had his first period, Grace was the person who helped him. Diego has had to walk into the kitchen with stained sheets in hand and eyes red on more than one occasion. She would understand immediately every single time. She’d put a hand on his cheek and wipe any tears that remained.

“Accidents happen Diego - even to big, strong men like yourself. I’ll go ahead and put these in the wash. Go have a seat and I’ll make you some tea.” She’d kiss his forehead and would go off with her duties. Diego always would go back to bed feeling more content than he did when he awoke.

Diego let out a whimper and immediately wrapped his hands around his stomach. Diego’s cycles were always the worst out of the Hargreeves siblings. He had hoped that going on testosterone would stop his mensuration but alas he wasn’t so lucky. Of course he wasn’t. Testosterone did however make his periods far and few between. He had gone a year and a half without a period just to have a 2 month long cycle. The unknown was the worst part. When he had his unexpected periods he suffered all of the symptoms and then some.

He quickly disposed of his underwear and sweat pants and threw them in a bag along with his sheets to inspect the damage. He came to the conclusion that shark week took victim on yet another pair of perfectly good underwear, pj’s, and sheets.

He set the bag aside and walked over to his dresser. He got ahold of another pair of sweatpants and underwear and shuffled into the bathroom, uncomfortable in his now complete nudity. Once inside he took a look at himself in the mirror. His face was rugged, jaw sharp. He had facial hair, thick brows, and two scars underneath his chest. His flat chest. He looks like the epitome of masculinity. Diego should see a man looking back at him. But all he sees is the little girl his father oh so wanted him to be. He saw the little kid with bangs and long hair in that stupid uniform. He saw that little kid that hated being called “she”. His vision started to blur and he blinked violently. He let the tears stream down his face as he choked back a sob. He couldn’t do this now.

Diego shook his head and slapped his cheeks, focusing back to the task at hand. He quickly opened the sink drawer and found the black box hidden in the very back. Opening it he grabbed a pad and placed the box back where it belonged.

For Christmas one year Klaus had bought Diego special briefs that were made for pads. His sibling learned that tampons made him even more dysphoric - the thought of anything being “inside” of him was too much to handle. They were 17 and Klaus had helped him get through a particularly bad episode. He was always thankful for him for that even when Klaus insisted on calling them his “best sibling ever rescue briefs”.

Diego placed the pad in his underwear and slipped the pair on, sweatpants quickly after. He washed his hands and made his way out of the bathroom, avoiding the mirror. His reflection was a little too much to handle right now.

Without the damp clothes on he already felt a bit better. Diego knew he probably wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon; he never did when he had these accidents. Diego grabbed the bag and walked out of his room and made his way towards the kitchen as quietly as he could.

As walked down the stairs he saw that the kitchen light was still on.

“Huh.” Diego thought to himself. His mom was already asleep as is everyone else in the house. Or so he assumed.

He turned the corner and into the kitchen to find Klaus in nothing but tiny silk shorts that probably belonged to Allison. They had a cup of tea in their hands and they were chatting softly to the seat next to them. They seemed to be in a pretty deep conversation seeing as they didn’t notice Diego.

Finally Klaus made a little “wha” sound and whipped their head around.

“Oh! Guten morgen brother!” Klaus chimed with a grin on their face.

“What brings you down here?”

Diego swallowed, his voice and brain trying to process what he wants to say.

“I-I uh,” Diego shifted his gaze, not wanting to make eye contact. Even after all these years, after all that Klaus had seen, he still felt ashamed when he was vulnerable.

“Shark week.” Diego signed, sliding his pointer finger straight across his palm. He didn’t quite trust his words yet.

Klaus’ smile quickly turned into a look sympathy, their muscles softening. They knew how bad their brother hurt when this happened. They got up from their seat and walked over to Diego, linking their elbow with his and walked him over to the table.

“I’m going to get you some Advil and make you a cup of tea, alright? You sit tight, sir. Ben will keep you company.” Klaus took a deep breath and clenched his fists. Blue light emitted from them and slowly their brother appeared in the seat across from Diego. Over the months of sobriety and training, Klaus had gotten a lot stronger in their abilities. It didn’t take nearly as much out of them to manifest their brother. They just couldn’t do it for 12+ hours at a time. Klaus took the bag from Diego’s hand and disposed of the remnants of his items.

Ben had a welcoming smile on his face as he pat Diego’s shoulder.

“How are you?” Ben asked softly, his eyes never leaving Diego’s gaze.

“P-pai-pain.” Diego choked weakly, wanting nothing more than to look away. But he knew his brother wasn’t there to judge or hurt him. Ben, other than Klaus, was the only other person who could understand some what of what he was going through. Ben never felt at peace with his body either, his “demons” hurt him. Physically and emotionally.

The hooded man nodded, “You know what I mean Diego,” Ben started. He chose his next words carefully, “How are you dealing with this? It’s been what....7 months since your last one?”

Diego shook his head, “N-nine mo-onths. Glor-g-glorious months.”

Klaus walked over to their siblings with 3 advil PM’s in one hand and a hot cup of chamomile tea in the other. They placed them in front of Diego, taking a seat next to him. He popped the pills in his mouth wordlessly and swallowed.

“If you don’t want to talk about this it’s fine, I understand. But,” Klaus put their finger under Diego’s chin and turned his head so they were making eye contact, “you know we’re always here for you. The even numbers gotta stick together, yeah?” They winked, removing their hand from his chin and back into their lap.

Diego’s vision blurred once more and he felt his cheeks heat up. He took a shaky breath as he tried to regain his composure.

“Diego it’s okay. I promise it’s okay.” Ben reassured his brother. He knew he needed time to process his thoughts when he got like this.

“Y-you’d th-th-think aft-after all th-these years I-I-I,” he let a sob escape his lips, his whole body jerked as he did so, “I’d b-be u-u-used to th-th-this. I’m f-f-fucking thirty!” Diego exclaimed, slamming a fist on the table.

“Diego you shouldn’t have to get used to feeling like your body doesn’t belong to you.” Klaus took their brothers hand, leaning down so they could attempt to lock eyes.

“Your body is yours and it’s a wonderful body. It’s a strong body. Its a talented body, one that can do things not a lot others can. It’s saved the world before too, ya know? It has a lot of memories written on it.” Klaus ran their thumb along the scar on Diego’s eyebrow.

“You are you and that’s all we could ever ask you to be.” Ben expressed, his tone steady.

His siblings kind affirmations were proving to be too much for Diego to handle. He broke down even more, his body shaking violently. Ben got up and walked around the table to his brother. He immediately wrapped his arms around the sobbing man, cherishing the fact he was able to comfort his siblings again. Klaus quickly followed suit.

Klaus and Ben gave each other an expectant look and then a nod. After a few minutes of their embrace, Diego’s sobs slowly started to subside. They silently stood up and put their hand on their brothers back.

“Diego we’re gonna have a cuddle pile, okay?” Klaus inquired even though they knew Diego would have no problem with it.

Diego nodded and they made their way up the stairs and into the “cuddle room”, a term Ben coined. It was one of the many guest rooms in this giant house however this one had a full king size bed. Aka a bed big enough to fit 3 grown adults.

This room had been their safe haven growing up. It had been Klaus’ when he woke up screaming, his nightmares not having left him in his sleep. It has been Ben’s when his demons were hurting and taunting him so much he felt like he couldn’t breathe. And it had been Diego’s when his body worked against him. They were always there for each other.

Ben opened the door and they made their way to the large bed, the three of them finding comfort in the familiar fluffy light yellow comforter. Diego crawled in first with Ben to his left and Klaus to his right.

“Is this okay?” Klaus asked, their voice barely above a whisper. Their arm hovered above Diego’s mid section, ready to back off if needed.

Diego mumbled out a “Mmm” and Klaus happily dropped their arm. Ben nuzzled up on the other side and followed suit, wrapping his arm around his brother.

The three of them fell asleep within minutes. Klaus nightmare-less, Diego content, and Ben relishing in their touch. This was the best night sleep they had gotten in a while.

[blaze8403]

4100 Greenway secured not Greenmount my beautiful spot to Grille in the nude with my I Grille in the nude apron is there Zillow talk head photo

2633 or 2613 26 Letter Z single integer 8

13 Letter M Male Dude if you ever need a sobriety coach 1000 thousand an hour or a day - Hope you medicate I prescribe you Cannabis Non Alcoholic non substance abuser Administering type

NO MALE OR FEMALE NOT XY OR XX RULES TO YALE SEX IS GENDER PEOPLE ARE SEX CALCULATED AND NUMB WITH A SENSE OF LOVE — COLD CALCULATED AND NUMB WITH A SENSE OF LOVE HAWKINS TRANSLATED TO HAWKIN Message from Philosopher Professor Doctor Field General Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins Terry Lee Hawkins jr HAWKINS UMBRELLA CORPORATION COATS ACTIVE IN CASE TERRY LEE KAUFFMAN HAWKINS (via teremiah8403) WORDS WORDS poemswords - poemswords - sword and words YES=Y LIKE Y=YES ( N=NO OR NODACHI) (via blaze8403)YIN & YANG ? DAI GENSUI TSU TER PHILOPROFESSU MADOSIER ( ER IN EMPEROR AND BOOPER AND ( DOSSIER / DOSIER ( OSS OR OS ) DAI GENSUI TSU TERI MADOSIER GRAND MASTER GRAND MARTIAL MARSHAL FIELD DOCTOR GENERAL WAR OR WOR - RIGHT AND WRONG C=3 LIKE K=11=2 YAKAZA SOFT SEAT WAY WAR AND T IN TERRY AND H IN HAWKINS Terry Lee Hawkins Jr. · TAO OF TRUE RELIGION CIRCLE — RavenDove - yin yin / yang - D or L Dove or Love maybe L or D Lover or Dover pythagorean numerology ABC123 Kauffman-Hawkins-Hawk or Hopk -H__kins aw or op and Hopkins signed Booper or just Boop not Book.YORK PA - RESPONSIBLE RESPECTING EVERY SERIOUS PERSON ON NOW SERIOUS ISSUE BUT LISTEN ENTIRELY—OPERATIONS(TH OR AH) BOOP ( OOP=OO16=007 )—ENOCH PFL- COM01 TERRY HAWKINS - LEE ( RHEE )HIROHITO COULD SPELL BOOK AND BOOP - ER OR RE -KINGMAGIC YEA A GOD KNOW MAGICK - MAGI ?—PKA-TERRY THE TERROR MO IN HOME LIKE HOME PLATE ATE MODUS OPERANDI Terry Lee Hawkins Jr.— - THREE ELEVEN PISCES- OP IN OPERATIONS AND HOPKINS - ( OPP OR OSS - NO HOP OR POP - NOT SPOT STOP POST POTS - TOPS ?)—TERRY LEE HAWKINS - HOPKINS - AND JAPANESE HOKINSU -ME SIR NAMED A CHILD - DATE 10/29/30/2019 T=20=2 E=5 R=18=9 R=18=9 Y=25=7 NOT G OR P—T=20=2 E=5 R=18=9 R=18=9 Y=25=7 NOT G OR P—LI LEE LEI OR RHEE - NAME LEE AMEN OR AMAN ? - THEY DIDN’T GET IT PHONETIC LETTER WARTERKEY SIX ( ROMAN 9) PASCALBLAZE3@GMAIL.COM TWITTER TJ - TERRY JUNIOR BIRTHDAY MARCH 11 USS OR USA ?CORRECT SELECTION THE GOD DELUSION - CHAPTER 7 - 3 MORE—XERXES ( SEX=GENDER ) XIEXIE ( I AND E VOWELS LETTER 9 & 5)OOP = 16= 7 OO7 / 2600 OR 1600 - 0016 (ACTIVE) JANIST OR JANISM ?Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins is feeling professional with professor Doctor Dai Gensuier Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins Terry Lee Hawkins Jr. · ALL PRO RAVENDOVE Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins was RavenDove - yin yin / yang RavenDove - yin yin / yang - COLD NUMB AND (LOVIEY DOVIEY) CALCULATED SPELL IT D or L Dove or Love maybe L or D Lover or Dover pythagorean numerology ABC123 Kauffman-Hawkins-Hawk or Hopk -H__kins aw or op and Hopkins signed Booper or just Boop not Book BUT LOKI OR BOOPER SAN with Blaze Pascal. with Terry Lee Hawkins ( male ) Peros Dragonus Kami Aisuru ikigami shinigami HAWKINS HOKINSU/HOKINZU — feeling professional with Terry Lee Hawkins Jr.Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins Terry Lee Hawkins JR ( male ) Peros Dragonus Kami Aisuru ikigami shinigamI TER OR TERRY / - HAWKINS - LETTERS IN SPELLING DAI GENSUMMASIER RANK NATO 50 STARS -DAI-GENSUIER Professor Doctor Dai Gensuier Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins Terry Lee Hawkins Jr. - Signed Boop not Book Rank‎: ‎TEN ( CODE_LOVE-AI)-star Non-NATO rank‎: ‎O-16 NATO rank‎: ‎OF-15 Next lower rank‎: GENSUIER GENSUIER - AMONG R&R AND SECURITY DETAIL Rank‎: ‎NINE ( CODELOVE-AI)-star Non-NATO rank‎: ‎O-15 NATO rank‎: ‎OF-14 Next lower rank‎: DAI GENSUIA DAI GENSUIA Rank‎: ‎Eight -star Non-NATO rank‎: ‎O-14 NATO rank‎: ‎OF-13 Next lower rank‎: GENSUIA GENSUIA Rank‎: ‎Seven -star Non-NATO rank‎: ‎O-13 NATO rank‎: ‎OF-12 Next lower rank‎: ‎ DAI GENSUi DAI GENSUI Rank‎: ‎SIX -star Non-NATO rank‎: ‎O-12 NATO rank‎: ‎OF-11 Next lower rank‎: ‎Gensui Terry Lee Hawkins Jr.— - THREE ELEVEN PISCES- OP IN OPERATIONS AND HOPKINS - ( OPP OR OSS - NO HOP OR POP - NOT SPOT STOP POST POTS - TOPS ?)—TERRY LEE HAWKINS - HOPKINS - AND JAPANESE HOKINSU -ME SIR NAMED A CHILD - DATE 10/29/30/2019 T=20=2 E=5 R=18=9 R=18=9 Y=25=7 NOT G OR P—T=20=2 E=5 R=18=9 R=18=9 Y=25=7 NOT G OR P—LI LEE LEI OR RHEE - NAME LEE AMEN OR AMAN ? - THEY DIDNT GET IT PHONETIC LETTER WARTERKEY SIX ( ROMAN 9)PASCALBLAZE3@GMAIL.COM/TWITTER TJ - TERRY JUNIOR BIRTHDAY MARCH 11 USS OR USA ?CORRECT SELECTION THE GOD DELUSION - CHAPTER 7 - 3 MORE—XERXES ( SEX=GENDER ) XIEXIE ( I AND E VOWELS LETTER 9 & 5)OOP = 16= 7 OO7 / 2600 OR 1600 - 0016 (ACTIVE) JANIST OR JANISM ?Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins is feeling professional with professor Doctor Dai Gensuier Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins Terry Lee Hawkins Jr. · ALL PRO RAVENDOVE Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins was RavenDove - yin yin / yang RavenDove - yin yin / yang - COLD NUMB AND (LOVIEY DOVIEY) CALCULATED SPELL IT D or L Dove or Love maybe L or D Lover or Dover pythagorean numerology ABC123 Kauffman-Hawkins-Hawk or Hopk -H__kins aw or op and Hopkins signed Booper or just Boop not Book BUT LOKI OR BOOPER SAN with Blaze Pascal. with Terry Lee Hawkins ( male ) Peros Dragonus Kami Aisuru ikigami shinigami HAWKINS HOKINSU/HOKINZU — feeling professional with Terry Lee Hawkins Jr.Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins Terry Lee Hawkins JR ( male ) Peros Dragonus Kami Aisuru ikigami shinigamI GOD NAME LOKI PROFESSIONAL HAWKINS ( KAUFFMAN) TERRY L(via blaze8403)Modus Operandi - GOD OVER MONEY THE LIVES OF MEN AND WOMEN ABOVE MONEY - IN GOD WE TO TRUST - USDA * (MURDA)HONESTY / DISHONESTY - SIDNEY / DISNEY(MONEY-YENOM) (BECK OR BECH ?)—TERRY CHRISTIAN CHRISTEN ANGELOUS LEE KAUFFMAN HAWKINSWORD WORDS poemswords  poemswords -POME-OPME-(OPEM) YES=Y LIKE Y=YES ( N=NO OR NODACHI) (via blaze8403)YIN & YANG ?DAI GENSUI TSU TERI MADOSIER GRAND MASTER GRAND MARTIAL MARSHAL FIELD DOCTOR GENERAL WAR OR WOR - RIGHT AND WRONG C=3 LIKE K=11=2 YAKAZA SOFT SEAT WAY WAR AND T IN TERRY AND H IN HAWKINS Terry Lee Hawkins Jr. · TAO OF TRUE RELIGION CIRCLE — RavenDove - yin yin / yang - D or L Dove or Love maybe L or D Lover or Dover pythagorean numerology ABC123 Kauffman-Hawkins-Hawk or Hopk -H__kins aw or op and Hopkins signed Booper or just Boop not Book.YORK PA - RESPONSIBLE RESPECTING EVERY SERIOUS PERSON ON NOW SERIOUS ISSUE BUT LISTEN ENTIRELY—OPERATIONS(TH OR AH) BOOP ( OOP=OO16=007 )—ENOCH PFL- COM04 TERRY HAWKINS - LEE ( RHEE )HIROHITO COULD SPELL BOOK AND BOOP - ER OR RE -KING MAGIC YEA A GOD KNOW MAGICK - MAGI ?—PKA-TERRY THE TERROR MO IN HOME LIKE HOME PLATE ATE MODUS OPERANDI Terry Lee Hawkins Jr.— - THREE ELEVEN PISCES- OP IN OPERATIONS AND HOPKINS - ( OPP OR OSS - NO HOP OR POP - NOT SPOT STOP POST POTS - TOPS ?)—TERRY LEE HAWKINS - HOPKINS - AND JAPANESE HOKINSU -ME SIR NAMED A CHILD - DATE 10/29/30/2019 T=20=2 E=5 R=18=9 R=18=9 Y=25=7 NOT G OR P—T=20=2 E=5 R=18=9 R=18=9 Y=25=7 NOT G OR P—LI LEE LEI OR RHEE - NAME LEE AMEN OR AMAN ? - THEY DIDNT GET IT PHONETIC LETTER WARTERKEY SIX ( ROMAN 9)PASCALBLAZE3@GMAIL.COMTWITTER TJ - TERRY JUNIOR BIRTHDAY MARCH 11 USS OR USA ?CORRECT SELECTION THE GOD DELUSION - CHAPTER 7 - 3 MORE—XERXES ( SEX=GENDER ) XIEXIE ( I AND E VOWELS LETTER 9 & 5)OOP = 16= 7 OO7 / 2600 OR 1600 - 0016 (ACTIVE) JANIST OR JANISM ?Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins is feeling professional with Philosopher Professor Doctor Dai Gensuier Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins Terry Lee Hawkins Jr. · ALL PRO RAVENDOVE Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins was RavenDove - yin yin / yang RavenDove - yin yin / yang - COLD NUMB AND (LOVIEY DOVIEY) CALCULATED SPELL IT D or L Dove or Love maybe L or D Lover or Dover pythagorean numerology ABC123 Kauffman-Hawkins-Hawk or Hopk -H__kins aw or op and Hopkins signed Booper or just Boop not Book BUT LOKI OR BOOPER SAN with Blaze Pascal. with Terry Lee Hawkins ( male ) Peros Dragonus Kami Aisuru ikigami shinigami HAWKINS HOKINSU/HOKINZU — feeling professional with Terry Lee Hawkins Jr.Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins Terry Lee Hawkins JR ( male ) Peros Dragonus Kami Aisuru ikigami shinigamI TER OR TERRY / - HAWKINS - LETTERS IN SPELLING DAI GENSUI TSU TERI MADOSIER -DAI GENSUMMASIER RANK NATO 50 STARS -DAI-GENSUIER Professor Doctor Dai Gensuier Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins Terry Lee Hawkins Jr. - Signed Boop not BookRank‎: ‎TEN ( CODELOVE-AI)-star Non-NATO rank‎: ‎O-16 NATO rank‎: ‎OF-15 Next lower rank‎: GENSUIER GENSUIER - AMONG R&R AND SECURITY DETAIL Rank‎: ‎NINE ( CODELOVE-AI)-star Non-NATO rank‎: ‎O-15 NATO rank‎: ‎OF-14 Next lower rank‎: DAI GENSUIA DAI GENSUIA Rank‎: ‎Eight -star Non-NATO rank‎: ‎O-14 NATO rank‎: ‎OF-13 Next lower rank‎: GENSUIA GENSUIA Rank‎: ‎Seven -star Non-NATO rank‎: ‎O-13 NATO rank‎: ‎OF-12 Next lower rank‎: ‎ DAI GENSUi DAI GENSUI Rank‎: ‎SIX -star Non-NATO rank‎: ‎O-12 NATO rank‎: ‎OF-11 Next lower rank‎: ‎Gensui Terry Lee Hawkins Jr.— - THREE ELEVEN PISCES- OP IN OPERATIONS AND HOPKINS - ( OPP OR OSS - NO HOP OR POP - NOT SPOT STOP POST POTS - TOPS ?)—TERRY LEE HAWKINS - HOPKINS - AND JAPANESE HOKINSU -ME SIR NAMED A CHILD - DATE 10/29/30/2019 T=20=2 E=5 R=18=9 R=18=9 Y=25=7 NOT G OR P—T=20=2 E=5 R=18=9 R=18=9 Y=25=7 NOT G OR P—LI LEE LEI OR RHEE - NAME LEE AMEN OR AMAN ? - THEY DIDNT GET IT PHONETIC LETTER WARTERKEY SIX ( ROMAN 9)PASCALBLAZE3@GMAIL.COMTWITTER TJ - TERRY JUNIOR BIRTHDAY MARCH 11 USS OR USA ?CORRECT SELECTION THE GOD DELUSION - CHAPTER 7 - 3 MORE—XERXES ( SEX=GENDER ) XIEXIE ( I AND E VOWELS LETTER 9 & 5)OOP = 16= 7 OO7 / 2600 OR 1600 - 0016 (ACTIVE) JANIST OR JANISM ?Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins is feeling professional with professor Doctor Dai Gensuier Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins Terry Lee Hawkins Jr. · ALL PRO RAVENDOVE Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins was RavenDove - yin yin / yang RavenDove - yin yin / yang - COLD NUMB AND (LOVIEY DOVIEY) CALCULATED SPELL IT D or L Dove or Love maybe L or D Lover or Dover pythagorean numerology ABC123 Kauffman-Hawkins-Hawk or Hopk -H__kins aw or op and Hopkins signed Booper or just Boop not Book BUT LOKI OR BOOPER SAN with Blaze Pascal. with Terry Lee Hawkins ( male ) Peros Dragonus Kami Aisuru ikigami shinigami HAWKINS HOKINSU/HOKINZU — feeling professional with Terry Lee Hawkins Jr.Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins Terry Lee Hawkins JR ( male ) Peros Dragonus Kami Loki Aisuru Ikigami ShinigamI GOD NAME LOKI PROFESSIONAL HAWKINS ( KAUFFMAN) TERRY L(via teremiah8403)Source:teremiah8403

[envirohiphop]

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🔝Freestyle #jamesessions #3 which part do you love most ? ☠️🤟🏻 Just feeling things out...would love to get making some tracks with people🔜💡PM me LYRICS⬇️ I swear when I come on the mic I’ll be precise and yeah try to be nice But This Induces convoluted conversation call it a night your #knives over the #guns #fists over that crowbar play it #raw #violence isnt the answer tho so I won’t run you over I don’t need to be #sober when I phone her I can roll through life as long as I keep my #composure put on your #sonos and get more #coronas and sit back and don’t let the past ruin the #moment I soak in the #knowledge I’m all for one solid #foundation of payment I’m waving cuz your #famous #Icons like #pythons with a grip so tight on a mouse hunt We can press on take a rest and find you way back through all the mice Live through the #chaos and tear a new face off hardened by those forces That made us . Live through the maze only to find a place to stay lost in the race —-chopped up by #society, looking to #sobriety your softness loosens your feelings entriely Kicking the soot begging for your life with every #snap crackle pop ask me why this is my vice and I’ll tell you it all Snap crackle pop k m coke eh so Snap crackle pop now your laying on the floor oh #freestyle #hiphopmusic #poetry #poetrycommunity #creative #vancouver @gowhistler @worldstar @canadian_hiphop @repost @sonos @hiphopvancouver #born in #the6ix (at Whistler, Canada) https://www.instagram.com/p/BvjLn2sAq4M/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=ltc5kl4wnibt

[winterinwhiskey-blog]

Brawls by Anatomy.

“Can romance actually be beaten out of you?”

A swipe of worn out cotton turns into a swab as some other’s phrase turns its punctuation to transform into some half erased format of a full-stop written onto my motions over the bar’s veneer, and don’t get me wrong, I didn’t stop but it was a slur, bleeding out like that borderline tug of control you keep by iced out logic when everything else is burning Tennessee Fire in your mind. You fake your sobriety better than you act when you’re sober — unaware, because feeling filtered would actually not screen for your pain in projection this time.

But you don’t ever really stop doing what you do, not anymore, anyway, That control doesn’t get to slip you.

Muddled waters on mahogany, reflections colouring on amber in ripples that wouldn’t wave in a tide and I look for shades of purple in the faces that wave on by, perhaps kissed with the tempered blue in hue of a Bailey’s Comet — more over flesh than in one tablespoon of Rum and a sprinkle more of salt over someone’s wounded pride than over lemon of a shot of vodka.

Inebriation, came in so many colors than the tenured tones of honey that glazed over empty glasses that filled up one too many hearts — black for eyes, brittle blue for bones, red for shots of blood that flooded sockets as reason drained out of eyes; and here I was, some regulated or regulating enabler for miseries profound or liquids that over-dramatized pain into an excuse for harm.

Ironical, really.

But it was a shrine of lies, in ways. Jabs of half-honesty as we drank disgust to wash out the loathing that lurched up our own throats. Picking drinks in our name of tolerance to evade someone else’s as our lips soured up to forget kisses in fashion no intent of pucker could beg to relive but we tongue down over and over again to forget. But well, sometimes, it was in the name of remembrance with the exclusion of the fancies or the tails in a mixture fruited up one too many as you stick to the harsh honesty — those doses of separation to leash out the well-bred bitch in your barks of whiskey than to lash out in some poison that bastard breeds boiled on to live up to the name of being a dog, excluding loyalty; or well perhaps the loyalty lay to suffer out the sickness that they pissed themselves in.

Pain drinks to forget, suffering drinks to be understood.

And a diagnosis superior — trauma drinks to understand.

I’d know.

Inherent green-flecked blues fall onto the silhouette of personal therapists on some top bottom row, lines by lines of identical matrix marched black uniforms with those starred badges across — Jack Daniel’s, by the army. Signing off or out of each infliction of imagination or trip down acid lane to streets that wind far away from the backdoor in spirals of multiplications of nightmarish grog in fumes that snap the door by the hinges open onto the ruins of ecstasy, not by definition but by the pace of some reel that was sped up by double and we all about onto someone else’s home, spiralling in dances as the disgust clogged the insides of your throats to drinking what he would have been, or perhaps would pick up to touch by his incarnation of disgust and the only spiral onto maven avenues of hostile grounds, shrapnel by loss of pride by the feet over the pour of ribs or the firework splatter of glass against the matching strike of your scalp and you drink, the only bit he didn’t so you don’t ingest what he does — no more snarking worms of his presence griming the veins between your flesh and skin, heating up like rust over water, coagulating and suffocating like the bubble of clotted blood by to bring out that cherry sparkle of your eyes that leafed out your irises like some trampled flower shoved by bloody ends of fingernails into your sockets and you rely, on that one bottle of whiskey in winter; to keep you clean on a carpet you no longer lay on bloody.

Only, physically.

Unwinding the razor wire of thoughts that left the tracings in rectangular rent of cuts by the payment of my flesh, only in memory over the fences of the heart in its defences and I look about again, tracing the upheaval of romance or its beatings as my hands kept at the violent swipes of cleaning the bar for the girl who asked up such triggers; but some charade we played, answer the least by the face of what you know the most. Your own muscles should be the last in line to betray you in a run but well, betrayal beckoned by instinct within guts more than any outlier outcome.

“I swear, it’s like he bangs me up so fucking hard... who the hell even needs romance after sex like that?”

A single shaped brow has its inquiry in distasteful amusement at the speech privileged humans in all the riches of unadulterated expectations of life — tongues can only be under practice for getting choked up until wounds needed to be licked.

Moments innumerable uncounted do pass as what a crude altar of abuse and its fascinations truly abided for the shrine of sex.

But perhaps, I had grown sensitive to all misguidances of such religions.

“Kevin!”

Several eyes dart over in search for some Male recipient to answer for the name but they never really expect this shapely, kinda thinly, somewhere between a tomboy and a proper lady walk through with a carved up face for a name like that.

It had been some months since I had been working at my brother Cain’s bar, managerial creativities while the fucker chased away Hollywood dreams or just finally swapped the nightlife for a bit of Dawn. He was occupied, to say the least and I neededto be occupied so may as well.

I put aside the towel from my shoulder like some silk falling off of bones, but in an aggression of an impatient temper that set fire to the essence of any fabric of tenderness; shifting onto on booted feet under denim clad long legs with this rusted green of battle verdant hugging about subtle enough curves, fire breathes seemed to defy in appearance for lungs of ice and as confused and appealed on on-lookers of fascination Look onto my steps as I go on to Abe, a wrestler-built cashier here, veins grow frost under bite as his finger points back with the appraisal of, “Someone’s got a delivery for you, and he’s outside.”

Face and cheeks in form of confusion as a single brow raises in inquiry of a demand everyone knew to answer without a word and Abe just swings up his shoulders with palms in surrender and my eyes take a roll.

“Backdoor!”

Temperamental scowl set in place, I tread through.

And the metal hinges of the heavy door open up and as the winter ice blows in a harsh exhale to battle out whatever I was inhaling, whatever content ever found up on this face flies in spirals onto the warmth of the world of gold behind me, and I stand on the threshold of darkened blue, fourth degree of a bruise, I’d call it. And the berry black of a blood-bound bayou of fists of five by the dips of the curves; separation in contract and contrast of what was champagne on ice and damage on grind.

I stand, scowl-settled that takes half a flight into a relaxation of muscles for an inch of movement for the face that came into view wasn’t a tax I was paying under any governing of mutiny even if a hand was lain on me.

“You got some fucking balls but that was the point you were overly intent on showing, weren’t you, you fucking bastard.”

That twitch goes off over that thin sweated forehead, I see the struggle in the vein like a thinly worm trapped in a pipe smaller than its width, trying to breathe or still instead of explode and it was funny how beyond behaviour you could fall into seeing with bashing blurs.

“Kev, we need to—“

“You need to separate my conjunctions in person from your name before—“

“K— listen—“

“Showing up isn’t the daring part but doesn’t it disgust you to your guts to even come about—“

“I just want to—“

»

“— K—!”

I shut the door.

Metal cuts out the cords, only by sound.

I bump into Cain, he wasn’t supposed to be here, and wavering arms brush him aside as I stumble on, only in mind as my balance knows its grips in anxiety.

Blank.

My eyes roam for all the dust and dunes in golden tunes that hung from this bar with each step I take back in, people abuzz with the bubblies they popped from champagnes or the colourless compassion that masked their kindnesses and I appreciate Cain the Dickhead’s hard work by his own feet instead of having my concentrations fall onto the ripples of deluxe rich cotton, the pretentious spares over the bones of this dickhead’s torso.

Reels on reels of past project in films of spins that aren’t on roll but are on hold against the case of your skull, some shelves your trauma builds on, categorised to drop in loops without escape once it plays on.

Arms on arms of struggles in reflexes.

Wall wars.

Couch crushed potato.

Glass shattered doll.

Carpet corpse.  

Static.

Contemplation into and away to not contemplate on each bad memory that whispered up by the claws of some silent song out of by mind’s eye, subverted out to scream dreams of fantasies out my reasons.

And I only called them fantasies for the scenarios came on as imaginative, more to be done in some dystopian domination out of the box of creation of what was already broken. Pieces onto bones.

Well, I was merely killing myself in my own head repeatedly by hands that wouldn’t ever resemble my own.

But it had gotten to some point now where my nails could take up a pound of flesh from any merchant that charged up for more.

It’s a coil around the lungs, constricting in so that the flaky clumps of flesh fall out through the sliding gaps in rolls up, suffocating cutting through but the shallows of your eyes fell for the heartburn even if no face seen blurs down the youth that slipped in tension taut by the muscles every second.

Noise.

“KEVIN.”

A dazed “hmm?” finds sound as I turn by the head over the shoulder.

“Some new-act bikers are fighting to change onto whatever the fuck but it’s Grey’s hour.”

“Borrow some balls.

For Christ’s fucking sake. Where’s Abe?”

“Don’t be so mean. He went out somewhere to deal with something.

But Kev, you already got so near to charges and that police officer last time said he wouldn’t—“

“I’ll see you when I’m in court, Judge Judy.”

Warranted steps are taken against precautions and maples ways are made over to the black-leathered riot that took up the rackets over actual proper civilians and not rats dressed in human-skin. Or some tattooed up sorry excuse for flesh.

“Boys.”

It wasn’t a scream but the coldness always seemed to cut through like an icicle in decided departure through the noise.

Tired eyes blink up to widen through the sleepless adventures of yet another weight unregistered but I’ll process when I woke up. Or something.

Some fucker turns, toothpick in chew by the edge of the jaw and my mouth has an inward-upward, nearly negligible curl of distaste at the phantom feel and thought of chewed up wood by the teeth.

Reasons to gag, the counter wouldn’t stop up.

“Man, we won’t be changing channels if we got to look you over all night.”

My gaze assesses, some bored and nearly non-receptive recession within my mind as I see the remote in the asshole’s hand.

You had one job, Abe.

“Respectfully, sir.

Hand the remote back. We follow a strict rotation of shows here and our regulars don’t like interruptions.”

The man takes a step forward, or two. And I calculate in coldness and mechanisations of preparations of the seven streets of probabilities this would be taking and I feel the intake of held air on behalf of the entire room — having sucked all the air in for this vacuum ring of battle and blood and speculation, clearing up for the tension in the air before the thunder struck in all its peace.

“Baby, we all could become a regular for you.”

“The whore house is down the main road and if you confused addresses, I can write it down for you.”

The man tuts, tossing the remote back onto his crew, that awkward moustache or beard masking manic onto that dire smile as an arm rounds about to have a palm smacked onto my ass and statue-still marble, —

“You’ve got a tongue on you, don’t you? How about—“

A panic flutter of ‘fuck’ comes about in a tone that coloured on knowledge of my behaviours. And Fucking Hell, it was that second of silence before the ring slips off the slit of a bomb before shrapnel showers in engulfing atoms of losing ligaments and shattered limbs.

— and the cracks appear, after one second of composure as a thin arm slides up back against the gruff of his neck to lead the the pressure point by the elbow while a knee unleashes its wrath onto his guts, spilling balance over to lean his gravity over my shoulder as I side step to let the pull decelerate him onto the ground and the groans in pain subsides.

Just instincts onto its coldness, a thin sheet of emotionless ice.

Robotic programming onto nerves of humanity, not to brim over the consoles of control on another program to avoid technical errors of an outburst.

I turn around, a breath not seemed to have been lost.

“Remote.”

My palm tells for its property back in a calm that raged out in waves of instilled rage itself and —

“You fucking bitch.”

— Fingers tangle onto the back of my skull with no intent of anything but beat indications and some blinded blurs of sightless runs as my head has its impact onto the edge of a counter, the brow bone in detriment alongside the shelves of recorded events of trauma rattling to fall from organisation and I sit a minute in the daze of crimson that rolls in syrup dense moments over an eye and the man keeps on his walk, that glory on his heels adding that misogynistic shine from that exhalation of power over what seemed fragile that seemed to be modelled after Hermes’s steps one too many times and I did think of innocence lost in flashbacks of Percy Jackson renditions or whatever seemed suitable one too many times.

It’s a mechanical bull, the number one.

And long legs graduate themselves onto a stand before slanting themselves onto a run with arms in a quarter envelope of measurement of his hips; the disgust of touch creeping in by thought but not now as I degree onto a barrel from behind with every fragment of strength I will into muscle energy into this thinly body and it has customers flying from their tables as the wooden legs give away from the weight of the crash over.

You take a ride, from anyone.

And I think in technical flows. Mechanical, perhaps. The worst manifestation of rage where its presence was just absence; hollow, a ghost, grabbing onto some chair by its dangling legs and smashing whatever it had to splinter over the man’s head.

Everyone, wants to ride.

White rage, it was a sheet of snow, truly for me. Some song in Chilli Peppers, lacking Red and more on its absence as claws and bottles break in some slashes unforeseen and screams tearing through pain in sockets —

And pulls away, oh.

— until some set of arms find their ripples in fixative contact over the downpour of my curves as the bullets of punches don’t get to infill their magazine and the trigger finally sets in close contact, chest on my spine and my entire nervous system seems compromised by contact of cotton and skin and I scream and legs wade for kicks to barrel against the winds and wage backwards as the sirens in wails cry through my chaos as whoever was holding me back strategically but honestly blindly hit the barrier behind.

And I hear Cain’s loud call and the bustle of doors.

From you.

A spin and a flash of ash-lined, light eyes and somewhat a familiar face, perhaps by some silhouette; before some other fucking male voice finds further dominance over assistance of a megaphone.

“Kevin Reed, put your hands in the air.

You are under arrest.”

( end. )