#ungovernable force

[sowhatifiliveinasmalltowninjapan]

Conflict

The Ungovernable Force (1986)

[guerrilla-operator]

Conflict // C.R.A.S.S.

Up rose a movement titled C.R.A.S.S Who spoke of anarchy and freedom, putting power to the test A caring group of people who worked just outside the system Aiming for liberty and peace using passive resistance They took on a larger battle challenging all the rights and wrongs The state, sexism, war, religion Love and hope spread from their songs Punk is dead! Now refuse to be led! 'Fight war, not wars, oppose all power' They said They questioned institutions, reputations, the class systems Destroying power not people, but also rejecting revolution They never set out to profit from another! The music took a backseat so the message got louder 'Unity, respect, don't contaminate our earth' Is what was screamed at leaders in asylum, morals, values, what's it worth? Those who couldn't take it tried to stop them with violence They refused to play their game, and watched the political minds subsidence Attempts failed feebly to create divisions in the movement For it was real, unmarketable, not the bullshit we were used to Yes we still have their fucked system, regulations, laws and threats Whose fault is that? Not theirs! They're still doing their bit, are you? People don't climb on the pedestal; they are pushed there Questions developing leadership When you know what's being said is right, why do you need proof? For fuck sake- why can't you understand what they are saying? The shit we get, the shit we get

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The AOC-Sanders anti-oligarch tour is all about organizing

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me in CHICAGO with PETER SAGAL on Apr 2, and in BLOOMINGTON on Apr 4. More tour dates here.

It's hard to imagine today, but Barack Obama ran as a populist outsider, buoyed into office by a grassroots organizing campaign that used an incredibly innovative online organizing tool called MyBarackObama.com, which directly connected rank-and-file supporters so they could self-organize, creating an unstoppable force.

But as far as Obama was concerned, MyBarackObama.com was a campaigning tool, not a governing tool. The last thing Obama wanted was a clamorous electorate jostling his elbow while he made the grand bargains that defined his presidency: secret drone killings, immunity for telcos that profited from in illegal NSA spying, impunity for CIA torturers, bailing out bankers, complicity in the foreclosure epidemic, and, of course, unlimited free money for health insurance companies through the ACA.

Obama ran like a populist, but governed like Chuck Schumer. Meanwhile, the GOP of his day was dominated by its own "grassroots" groups, the Tea Party movement that was funded and organized by the Kochs but who quickly slipped the leash and became an ungovernable force that conquered the party. It turns out that the kind of people who get really involved in party activism are, well, passionate (a less charitable term might be cranks – and I say this as a certified, grade-A crank). They really believe in the principles that bring them into party activism, and the only people they hate more than the other party are their own sellout leaders (oh, hi, Senator Fetterman!).

For a leader whose theory of governance involves a lot of back-room favor-trading and Extremely Grown Up compromising, an activated, organized base represents a powerful obstacle. Obama's seeming genius was his ability to awaken a grassroots campaigning force that he could then hit pause on once he attained office, then re-activate on demand (Obama "revived" MyBarackObama.com for his second presidential campaign):

https://www.computerworld.com/article/1532634/barack-obama-s-big-data-won-the-us-election-2.html

But ultimately, I think we have to conclude that Obama's strategy was a losing one. By putting his own organization into an induced coma between elections, Obama lost an important source of discipline and feedback that would have told him when his compromises overstepped the tolerance of the electorate – and the fact that Obama didn't have an organized base meant that his Democratic Party rivals and his Republican opponents could force him into bad compromises, as with the ACA.

Contrast Obama with another "populist outsider" in the Democratic Party: Bernie Sanders. Sanders has never been afraid of his own base or their passion. Members of his staff disproportionately come from community and union organizing backgrounds. Think of the difference between Sanders' "Not me, US" and "Our revolution" slogans and Obama's dotcom URL, "MyBarackObama.com." Sanders' presidential campaigns were always organizing campaigns, and he's kept those going in non-election years.

Since Trump/Musk's shock therapy assault on American democracy, Bernie Sanders and Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez have been made headlines with a series of gigantic rallies across the country. The two Democratic Socialists have turned out vast crowds in Republican strongholds: 11,000 in Greely, CO; 15,000 in Tempe, AZ – and even bigger crowds in traditional Democratic turf: 34,000 in Denver.

Writing for The American Prospect, Micah Sifry describes the larger strategy behind these rallies. According to Faiz Shakur, the Sanders staffer who's organizing the events, the point of these events is to build a massive, grassroots organization that gets shit done:

https://prospect.org/politics/2025-03-26-bernies-fighting-oligarchy-tour-organizing/

The campaign is hiring full-time organizers in "Iowa, Nebraska, Wisconsin, and several Western states," and they're already actively fighting in state-level battles, like a Colorado bill to make it easier to form a union:

https://www.cpr.org/2025/02/03/colorado-labor-peace-action-union-history/

These people-powered movements are mobilizing directly against Musk's dark money operation, like the Wisconsin Supreme Court election where Musk is paying people $100 each to vote against Susan Crawford, a progressive candidate:

https://prospect.org/justice/2025-03-21-wisconsin-court-election-drawing-elon-musks-money/

The campaign is using online RSVPs to build out mailing lists. One interesting fact from Sifry's article: 65% of the signups are from people who are new to Sanders' mailing lists. 107,000 people have RSVPed so far. You can sign up here:

https://berniesanders.com/oligarchy/

Rationalization is easy to slip into and impossible to avoid. Politicians who make themselves beholden to organized supporters who really care about the issues are armoring themselves against the enormous pressure on elected representatives to make compromises. Both Sanders and Ocasio-Cortez have made compromises in their careers that I disagree with. I don't support them because I think they're perfect or immune to self-serving justifications. I support them because they are deliberately putting themselves in a position where it's much harder for them to make excuses and get away with it.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/03/26/not-me-us/#the-people-no

Image: Matt A.J. (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Sanders_rally_Council_Bluffs_IMG_4014_(49036624512).jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en

[heritageposts]

Ask an older generation of white South Africans when they first felt the bite of anti-apartheid sanctions, and some point to the moment in 1968 when their prime minister, BJ Vorster, banned a tour by the England cricket team because it included a mixed-race player, Basil D’Oliveira. After that, South Africa was excluded from international cricket until Nelson Mandela walked free from prison 22 years later. The D’Oliveira affair, as it became known, proved a watershed in drumming up popular support for the sporting boycott that eventually saw the country excluded from most international competition including rugby, the great passion of the white Afrikaners who were the base of the ruling Nationalist party and who bitterly resented being cast out. For others, the moment of reckoning came years later, in 1985 when foreign banks called in South Africa’s loans. It was a clear sign that the country’s economy was going to pay an ever higher price for apartheid. Neither of those events was decisive in bringing down South Africa’s regime. Far more credit lies with the black schoolchildren who took to the streets of Soweto in 1976 and kicked off years of unrest and civil disobedience that made the country increasingly ungovernable until changing global politics, and the collapse of communism, played its part. But the rise of the popular anti-apartheid boycott over nearly 30 years made its mark on South Africans who were increasingly confronted by a repudiation of their system. Ordinary Europeans pressured supermarkets to stop selling South African products. British students forced Barclays Bank to pull out of the apartheid state. The refusal of a Dublin shop worker to ring up a Cape grapefruit led to a strike and then a total ban on South African imports by the Irish government. By the mid-1980s, one in four Britons said they were boycotting South African goods – a testament to the reach of the anti-apartheid campaign. . . . The musicians union blocked South African artists from playing on the BBC, and the cultural boycott saw most performers refusing to play in the apartheid state, although some, including Elton John and Queen, infamously put on concerts at Sun City in the Bophuthatswana homeland. The US didn’t have the same sporting or cultural ties, and imported far fewer South African products, but the mobilisation against apartheid in universities, churches and through local coalitions in the 1980s was instrumental in forcing the hand of American politicians and big business in favour of financial sanctions and divestment. By the time President FW de Klerk was ready to release Mandela and negotiate an end to apartheid, a big selling point for part of the white population was an end to boycotts and isolation. Twenty-seven years after the end of white rule, some see the boycott campaign against South Africa as a guide to mobilising popular support against what is increasingly condemned as Israel’s own brand of apartheid.

. . . continues at the guardian (21 May, 2021)

[stellarsecrets86]

Astro Observations 7:

Darkest placements in the birth chart

Readings Are Open. Here

(There are souls that don't just live—they survive, devour, and then rise from their graves.But some of them are touched by the Sun, others molded from shadow, and if any of those parts belong to your soul, no easy life should be your calling. You came to this earth for something a little bit hard, unsmiling, untouched, and all raw.You don't feel. You drown, you burn, you erupt-you consume. And if you learn to control your darkness, the world won't know what hit it.)

☉ Pluto conjunct Sun: Very tired of this transformation game, no? But let me give you two choices, one the younger you where people were mean to you, bullying you just for existing, other one the current you where devil won't even dare to look into your eyes. Which one will you choose? You aren't soft. You were birthed into fire, forced to survive it, and now you wield it like a blade. People fear you because they should. You don't just walk into a room-you change its gravity. You don't break, you don't bend. When you fall, you rise stronger, sharper. You are death and rebirth wrapped in skin.

☽ Lilith conjunction Moon: Darkness follows you, but it does not define you. You were never supposed to be fragile. You were supposed to be raw and primitive, a force of nature. You feel hard, love hard, exist unapologetically. They can say you are difficult, too much, too wild. They fear what they cannot control, and they will never control you. Mother's wound is deep. Female love feels conditional.

☽ Pluto opposite Moon: Your emotions are war zones. You feel it all, like an intensity that would decimate another's soul. Love is a war zone, trust a gamble, safety an illusion. People want to tame you, drown your depths in shallow waters. People will try to tame you, to drown your depths in shallow waters. Don't let them. Your emotions are your power, your fire, your truth.

☽ Saturn square Moon: You weren't nurtured, you were tested. You learned early that love had conditions, and warmth was something you earned, not an entitlement. Yet, you're steel wrapped in flesh, every wound a layer of armor, so you won't need any saving. You are the fortress, the survivor, the one who keeps standing long after all the rest fell.

♀ Medusa opposite Venus - You're feared for the thing that makes you beautiful. You're desired, possessive, and yet untamed. They'll seek to tame the thing about you that has become a gift to them-a strength-into a curse. You were never intended to be soft. You were intended to be powerful.

♂ Mars conjunct Pluto: There's war in your bones. Rage like a storm, power like a reckoning. People feel you before they see you. You don't ask for control-you take it. You don't seek destruction-but when you burn, there is nothing left but ash. Be careful with your fire; not everyone is built to survive it.

☉ Medusa conjunct Sun : Betrayed, exiled, and feared, you have lived the life of a villain in other people's stories without doing anything and you were crucified for being alive. Well, they only sharpened you, made you stronger. And now you're a legend. A force which will never be forgotten.

☉ Lilith conjunct Sun: They tried to silence you, to mold you, to break you. But you are untamed, ungovernable. A wildfire disguised as a person. You don't just take up space-you command it. Your existence alone is an act of defiance. Let them fear you. Let them whisper. You were never meant to belong, you were meant to lead.

♆ Neptune opposition Pluto: Your soul is ancient, stretched between illusion and revelation. You are the priest and the heretic, the mystic and the destroyer. People underestimate you, thinking you are lost in dreams. But you see through them. You see through everything. You are the keeper of secrets, the destroyer of lies.

♂ Lucifer conjunct Mars: Against all, you rebelled in heaven and forged your own paths. The arrogance appears to those who never know the fire, the hunger, or need to be something else entirely other than a mere follower-yourselves the leader, a revolution in action.

♀ VENUS SQUARE PLUTO: Love is not soft. It is hunger, an obsession to devour. You don't need to connect-you need to own, completely submit. Your love will change or it will destroy. You attract the broken and dangerous, those who see your fire and believe they can contain it. They can't.

♂ Mars opposite Saturn: An animal caged. A chained soldier. The hunger to fight is there, the power to break free, but something is holding you down- authority, karma, fate. Yet, it's patience that became your weapon. You weren't meant to have small fights in the first place. By the time you explode, this is for something far bigger-some world-shaking event.

♀ PERSEPHONE CONJUNCT PLUTO: You have been taken by the darkness, shaped by it, but you did not become it. You are both the queen and the captive, the innocent and the ruler. You walk between two worlds, and you hold the power of both.

☿ Mercury square Pluto: Your words don't just cut, they eviscerate. You see through people, their lies, their fears, their weaknesses. You don't waste time on small talk because you know that the truth is always buried beneath the surface. Be careful, your words can either heal or destroy. There is no in-between.

☽ Hekate conjunct Moon : You dream in prophecy. You feel the shift of energies before they materialize. You are the guide, the torchbearer, the one who sees what others refuse to acknowledge. The unknown is your home, and darkness does not make you afraid.

☉ URANUS OPPOSITE SUN: Lightning in human form. Born to break the system down, tear down walls, and be that disruption no one saw coming. The people say you're a rebel, but only because they cannot control you. You don't take the path; you make your own. And when the world catches up? You're already gone.

♀ NESSUS SQUARE VENUS: Love is entangled in the karmic cuts, echoes of betrayal, and obsession for you. You attract the ones who covet your light yet cannot retain it and those teaching you about pain before teaching love. But man, when you break free.you'll know a love nobody's gonna be able to take from you.

☽ Chiron square Moon: Pain is your mother tongue. You learned suffering before you learned love. But in your scars, something is divine. You are the healer, the guide, the one who walks through hell and comes back with maps. You were meant to hurt-but you were also meant to transcend.

☉ Nemesis opp Sun: You are karma incarnate. A reckoning. The one who unmasks the false kings, corrupt rulers, those who build empires on lies. Some will fear you. Others will worship you. But all will know you.

♄ Saturn conjunct Pluto: Power built from ruin. You know struggle, oppression, the weight of expectation. You have been forced to carry burdens that were never yours. But your strength is absolute. You don't just endure-you dominate. You are the architect of your own empire, built from the ashes of every battle you've survived.

☿ Hekate conjunct Mercury: You carry the voices of the dead, the whispers of the unseen. A mind crossroads between worlds. Drawn to what's unknown and mysteries that others fear. Trust your intuition; it has never been wrong.

[If you possess these aspects, you are not average. You are not created to play small. Your darkness is your sword. Use it.]

🪱🦂

[cravetive]

PERICULUM | KTH (M)

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖🕊 Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Fem!reader

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖🕊 Synopsis: the day of your wedding has finally arrived, the day when you will leave your heartbreaks and disappointments behind and begin a future with the man that you love. you are supposed to be happy but instead, you find yourself gripped with a bad case of cold feet and soon you will have to come face to face with your past and the unwelcome guest that arrives with it.

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖🕊Genre: non-idol!au, smut, maybe a plot?

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖🕊 Warnings: swearing here and there, pining?, sexual tension, yandere, fingering, oral sex (F! receiving) , dirty talk, creampie (of course), teasing, unprotected sex, little bondage, hardcore, foreplay, dom/sub dynamics, kissing, Taehyung needs therapy like yesterday, cheating?

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖🕊 Authors note: I'm back but I'm not better, this might not be my best work and I apologize for my absence greatly. of course, I am a creature of habit so this might have some spelling errors, please allow me some grace whilst I get back in my groove.

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖🕊 Word count: 8k ( give or take )

The sun cascades through white curtains, casting a golden hue inside the room you now sit in - its rays glowing on every visible surface. It is complemented by the squeals and excited voices of the bridesmaids that roam around frantically, Their light sage dresses flowing against the Italian breeze that empties through the agape windows, the supple gust that caresses your cheeks bringing forth the scent of white roses that decorate the wedding reception outside. 

Today there will be a wedding, your wedding to be exact.

After numerous heartbreaks and misfortunes, you would be walking down the aisle in Castello Brown into the arms of the person who guaranteed you safety, making the inconceivable idea of marriage a reality.

You and Joseon had met in the strangest of times, in which the both of you were in your most raw state. Vulnerable and searching for warmth in every place plausible, and just like that, almost as if the universe had synched with time you found comfort in each other. Like cold water on a hot summer day, a soft pillow for the both of you to lay your heads on. 

The promise of a future blurs the lines of the inevitable truth, you are settling.  

But you love him….you do. 

Or at least, do you think you do? 

If you were, to tell the truth to anyone including yourself, you’d open your mouth and confess the uncertainty that currently grips you. It remains nuzzled inside your belly, making itself part of your organism until it reaches your bloodstream, latching onto your heart, spreading through each beat it dares take. Growing heavier and ungovernable the closer you get to saying your vows. 

It debilitates you in the most unpleasant form, bringing forth memories of a man who you once knew, who you once loved. It's hard for you not to feel like an imposter, as if you are taking the place of someone else, someone more deserving or perhaps it’s because you can't stop daydreaming of another version of this day, a recurring dream of your wedding where someone else stands there waiting for you instead of Joseon. 

The memory of his face inhabits your mind menacingly. His touch, his voice, and his scent leave a virulent residue inside of you. 

Yet, you avoid the whispers that roam your mind. Opting to ignore the truth that lingers there, forcing yourself to believe that you’ve made the right decision. Undermining the effect it has on you because everyone must feel like this on their wedding day, right?

It's just cold feet, or maybe it's because you haven’t had a good meal. Your appetite is affected by the anticipation of your big day - the way your corset presses against your ribs, a factor your mind is inclined to believe. 

Anything but the onerous honesty of what you are unfeignedly feeling. 

Joseon will be your husband, he will be the man that you love and cherish for the rest of your life because you said yes, because he is where you feel most secure. Unlike the trembling hands of the man who your heart lingered for. Where you found yourself always scared to fall, doubting he could ever catch you. Your fiance is who the universe has sent for you and it is in your best interest to believe that, it is what you need to convince yourself of until there is no scope of contemplation left inside of you. 

Joseon has to be your person. 

“Alright, ladies I need the bridesmaids to please accompany me downstairs for a few pictures” Sasha, your wedding planner announces whilst she steps into the room, her all-black formal attire standing out amongst the pastels and soft colors that ornament the day. 

The bridesmaids pour out of the room obediently, leaving behind echoes of laughter in the hall they disappear into. Sasha glances in your direction and provides you a warm smile, one that you reciprocate momentarily before your eyes shift back to the mirror in front of you. You can't allow her to look at you for a moment longer, scared that she might be able to notice the precariousness blooming within you. 

“Everything is going smoothly Y/n” she reassures you, perceiving the nerves that rattle through your bones. You pretend like that eases you, like somehow that is enough to stop the trembling in your hands. 

“And you look stunning” she adds and this time you turn to look at her again, another smile spreading across your cheeks, this one more genuine. 

“Thank you” your words come out as a whisper, ending in a squeak and then a trail of giggles which she shares with you. 

You clear your throat as it drains from all moisture caused by the question that makes its presence in your head and you almost feel guilty for even being curious but you ask anyway. 

“How’s Joseon?” Sasha smiles, oblivious to your current feelings, she thinks the question is rather romantic but in reality all you want to know is if he’s feeling as ill at ease as you are. 

If you aren’t the only one feeling out of place.  

“He’s ready,” she laughs “He can't stop saying how much he wants to see you already.”

Your stomach twists with the information and an intrusive idea perks in your mind, perhaps if you do see him before the ceremony then all these questions racing inside your mind will disappear.  Maybe they will evaporate into thin air the second you lay eyes on him - like they do in the movies. 

Perhaps his familiar face will silence the hesitation that has built intrusively inside of you. 

“Tell him I want to see him too” you state but it sounds more like a request, a desperate one. 

“Don't worry, you will get to soon” Sasha affirms but fear settles in your gut. The kind of terror that is baseless,  influenced by the anxiety that devours you swiftly and you reluctantly conclude that seeing Joseon is no match for the doubt that inhabits you. 

It wouldn’t change a thing. 

“Yeah” you sigh, nodding your head whilst attempting to dry off your clammy palms against the silk fabric of your robe. 

“Well I’ll let you finish” she cheers “You have abouuuttt” she mumbles, looking down at the watch she wears on her wrist “About 45 minutes to get ready, and then we will be on standby for your entrance.”

You inhale sharply, the sound of an absent clock thundering inside of your mind. Is it too late to change your mind? And if you do, would you hurt Joseon? But you already know the answer as you watch your wedding planner exit the room, only exhaling when she is completely gone.

“Are you nervous?” Brie, your make-up artist whispers, as if she is asking something no one should hear and you jump at the sound of her voice, too lost in your thoughts to realize she is still there. Her gentle laughter pervades the space and for some reason it irritates you, taking her innocent joy as mockery. 

Why was everyone so happy? So excited? When this was your big day, your moment. You’re the one supposed to be feeling elated, and ecstatic. But yet, no matter how hard you try, you are incapable of unearthing those feelings inside of you. You are left with no other option than to cling to the possibility that this must happen to everyone, that you aren’t the only one accompanied by this feeling on your wedding day. 

Your eyes find Brie’s, her stare reflecting sympathy and selfless happiness and you realize the anger that builds up inside of you is misplaced. 

Though you don't offer her the truth and perhaps it is because you honestly don't know what you are feeling, all you know is that you are blinking more than usual and your heart slams against your chest, hoping that if it manages to collide with your sternum hard enough it will rip open for it to escape. 

So, you shake your head and negate the profound emotions that you should urgently expose but that you yearn to hide.

“I'm ready” you breathe “more than I’ll ever be.”

“That’s good” she hums while she blends in the blush on your cheeks, her tone is doubtful and you can feel yourself begin to panic. Does she not believe you? Has she noticed your uneasiness, but of course how could she not - you’re usually a chatterbox, sparking the most random conversations, laughing at the most absurd things but now it's as if you can’t open your mouth unless it's to say how fine you are. 

“It’s okay to be nervous” Brie speaks again, turning to grab another one of her brushes. Your moistened eyes come up to look at her once again, dread dropping like a splash of ink inside you “This is a big step, not everyone is brave enough to do it.”

For an instant you are drawn to confide in her, to tell her what’s happening. If someone else helps you carry the burden then it can’t possibly weigh so harshly on your shoulders, right? 

“Brie” you begin to speak, a warning preparing to follow after. 

‘Don't tell anyone this but I don't think I'm ready’

“It will all be over when you walk down the aisle and then you'll laugh about it for years to come '' she says and your mouth clamps shut, swallowing your words. 

“Yeah” you agree, a small smile appearing on your face to appease her. 

And you pray that she’s right, that once you see the faces of all your loved ones, of Joseon then all these conflicting feelings will subside. 

There's a soft knock on the door, the subtle sound reverberating inside of the silence that has begun to form inside the room but you ignore it, reluctant to have to face yet another person whom you’ll need to hide from in hopes that they don’t notice how you fall apart. 

“I’ll go get it” Brie lays down her brush and walks towards the door. Your eyes drift back to the mirror in front of you and your next breath hitches in your throat. You don't recognize the reflection in front of you and within a period you begin to dissociate. 

She’s a bride. 

An imitation of all those women in the wedding magazines you’ve read for months now, the pink tint on her lips and blushed cheeks providing her an innocent appearance - the waves in her hair that are pinned to the back of her head waiting for her veil to be placed a detail you can't miss. You raise your hand to brush against your cheek, stroking the skin there softly as you succumb to the realization that something is missing. 

Because the only thing you can’t replicate from those brides in the magazines is the happiness behind their eyes. 

“Oh my god!” Brie’s high-pitched voice reaches your ears and you turn to look in her direction. You can tell she is holding something in her arms, a package maybe and you furrow your eyebrows at her sudden excitement. 

“What is it?” you ask, sliding forward in your chair. 

Brie turns and you get a glimpse of what has just been delivered, her face leaning down to inhale the aroma. The bouquet she holds is a cluster of soft pink and white, the colors seamlessly blending in a beautiful arrangement.

It prompts every single muscle in your to tense, your eyes widening in terror at the gift you’ve just been given. 

“Look! Someone sent these for you” She smiles widely, your hands clamp tightly onto the armrest of your chair whilst your heart plummets to your feet. 

“I wonder who these are from” Brie exclaims, her teasing tone causing your skin to grow pale as she reaches you. Your eyes remain on the flowers in her hands, too shell-shocked to react in the way she expects you to. The flowers are a symbol of something you have desperately tried to forget, a past that has no place in your memory today but that has been brought forth by the cruelty of the person who has sent them. 

Peonies.

There only exists one other person on this earth who knows how much you love them, who knows your fixation with its petals and colors. The sight of them is like a bucket of cold water being poured over you, it awakens every sense of insecurity inside of you and leaves you bare. 

“oh there's a card!” she chirps, pulling the small envelope embedded between the petals for you to see. 

You attempt to feign indifference but the way you snatch the card from her hand and stumble away from her sight exposes all your colors. Your hands tremble against the small white envelope, pulling and tearing until your fingers are raw, your chest heaving from the distress taking over you.  

You blink away the tears that glaze your pupils, raising the small card into the light where you find his handwriting and your corset tightens around your waist. Your lips quiver while you read the words there, a message that is short and simple - only taking him a few seconds to write and a lifetime for you to recover from. 

‘Best of wishes to you and the man that you don’t love’ 

The world dissolves around you and you anchor onto his words, your mind growing painfully quiet and the tantrum that your heart throws begins to subside. Your armor cracks as he unveils you in a manner only he can. Snatching away the lies you’ve been telling yourself to stay sane, no longer being able to hide behind the denial you’ve sown yourself to. 

The nostalgic evocation of him blinds you and a blood-curdling scream erupts within you, manifesting itself as a loud gasp that you choke on. 

“What does it say?” Brie asks, taking small steps in your direction, concern in her expression. Your eyes shift to her quickly, your hands subconsciously pressing the card to your chest in another poor attempt to conceal the truth. 

“Uh” you breathe, digging for an answer, for an excuse. 

“Oh, it’s just an old friend” you whimper. 

But Taehyung isn’t just a friend - not in the slightest or at least he wasn’t. No, Taehyung was not just a person, not someone you could easily forget or disregard. He was everything all at once. The definition of the right person at the wrong time, the reason why you’ve sought shelter in someone else’s arms. Too complicated to explain, too painful to recall. 

“Oh that’s sweet” Brie utters hesitantly, her eyes following along while you frantically pace around the room, nourished by the rush of adrenaline that pumps through your veins. 

“Is everything okay, Y/n?”

You snap your attention to her and you halt your movements, the card still pressed tightly against your chest. “Of course, I just need-” you inhale and your mind goes blank. What do you need? What would alleviate the torment you currently feel? 

“I just need a moment” You shut your eyes, trying to learn how to breathe again “Alone” you emphasize. 

“Oh of course” Brie responds, her worried eyes expressing words she doesn’t speak whilst nodding her head. 

“I’m just a bit overwhelmed that’s all” you gulp nervously. 

“No I get it” she reassures you and with one last worried glance, she makes her way towards the door. 

It is only when the door slams shut that you notice the heat that has blended itself in the air, sweat beginning to form on your freshly applied make-up. It leads you to rush to the open windows, your shaky hands reaching for the curtains which you pull onto desperately - praying for the scarce breeze of September to seep inside and offer you relief.  

You stare back down at the card that you cage inside of your hands and your eyes flutter shut as a loud sigh leaves your lips. You wish you could say you didn't see this coming, that somehow this was some kind of big revelation but Taehyung was an animal of habit, the habit of making his presence known when you most wanted to forget him. 

Your eyes move to the clock that sits on top of the nightstand and you shudder - you only have 20  minutes left until the ceremony begins and here you are losing your mind over someone who belonged to your past. You remove your robe, exposing your white lace lingerie, the intricately patterned fabric pressing against your skin, a gift you have prepared for your soon-to-be husband. 

You’re determined to push forward, to walk down the aisle that promises you happiness because it’s what you deserve. No longer would you allow Taehyung to play with your mind, not in the way you had previously - you convince yourself that he no longer knows you at all. 

The wedding dress that lays on top of the bed draws your attention and you stand still for a moment, inspecting the all-white gown that should be but isn’t on you. You sigh and reach for it, feeling the soft charmeuse fabric under your fingers. You try to convince yourself that once you put it on all will be well and these perturbing feelings along with that note will be left in the past, like a sick memory. 

Amongst the rest of the other things that you’ve shared with Taehyung. 

As you rush to put on the dress, you hear the soft hum of your phone ringing and you turn to reach for it, you know you are running late - it's probably Brie reminding you of the time. You look at the screen at the unsaved number and sigh as you answer the call. 

“I know” Your hand rubs over your temple whilst your eyes fall shut, an ache forming there. 

“I just need a bit of help putting on the dress.”

“I can help with that”

The voice is low and rasped, carrying a certain familiarity that you fear recognizing. It flows through your ear like a song, your brain recalling each time that you’ve heard it before, the many times your heart fluttered over it. 

“W-ho” you choke, your eyes opening quickly “Who is this?”

“You forgot my voice so soon, my love?”

You stand up quickly, dread forming in your gut as an inevitable realization comes to your head. 

“How did you get my number?”

“Ah you didn’t forget” he chuckles lowly, a certain taunt in his tone “I knew you wouldn’t”. 

“Taehyung” you whisper which is paired with a heavy sigh “Why are you calling me?”

“Did you get my note?” he ignores your line of questions, delivering you one of his own. 

You stare at the crumpled card thrown on the bed next to your dress and you turn away. 

“What note?” you retort. 

“You are great at many things Y/n but at lying? You were never good at lying” he states, his tone bringing chills down your spine. 

“What do you want?” you demand, a quiver accompanying the question. 

“Just wanted to hear your voice one last time before you became a married woman” he hums, as if his statement means nothing.  

“Taehyung” you warn.

“Oh come on Y/n” he chuckles once again “didn’t you miss my voice too?”

“No, I didn't” you snap. 

“Not even a little bit?” he asks, a smirk spread through his face which you can picture even from the other line. 

There is a knock on the door and you flinch at the abrupt sound. Your heart beats a mile per second and you fix your eyes on the clock once again. 

You have 10 minutes left.

“It was nice catching up Taehyung but I have a wedding to attend,” you say before ending the call,  throwing your phone across the room. You don't have time to sit and ponder what Taehyung wants, it's not about him today. You won't allow his selfishness to absorb you once again, in the end, that is all he wants. Your steps are rushed as you approach the door, hoping it’s Brie who has returned to help you with your dress.

You leave the door open before quickly turning, heading back to the bed where your wedding dress lays, the small Swarovski diamonds shining as the sunbeams on the fabric.  

“Brie, can you please help me I have 10 minutes to get ready and I'm so sorry about before I had a lot on my mind but I'm ready” you ramble, picking up the dress from the bed and beginning to remove the buttons on the back.

The door shuts and you hear footsteps approaching you.

“Can you please hurry Brie, I don't want Joseon to think I left him at the alter or something” you giggle nervously but as you turn to glance at Brie, in her place is a man, he wears a black suit with his hair brushed back and the grip on the fabric on your dress loosens, the dress falling to the ground. 

You scan the man’s face carefully, his small child-like smile luring your heart to thump faster. He’s taller than Joseon, his posture confident and relaxed, his intense and machiavellian stare the next thing you notice and of the small mole that sits on his right lower eyelid. 

“Taehyung,” you say. Your wide eyes blinking as if it would make his presence go away as if he was but a figment of your imagination. 

A small smirk appears on his face as his eyes travel your bare skin, a low hiss falling from his lips. 

“W-what are you doing here?” you ask, eyes narrowing on him. 

“Look at you” Taehyung breathes “a bride”. 

“Taehyung don't fuck with me, what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you” he explains plainly, taking a step forward which you respond by taking a step back. 

His eyes linger on your face, his stare gripping and longing and if it wasn't for the way you avoided it, you could’ve picked up on the subtle sadness in them, of an emotion that he hides behind his cunning bravado. 

“Well, you have” you demand “Now please go”  Your tone clings to fear - fear of what will occur if he remains in your presence any longer. Your resolution, the one that you had spent years building inside melts away like butter. You take in his presence and you don't dare say this out loud but for a second you pray that he stays for more than just a few minutes, that if by chance or perhaps luck he will say that he wants to stay, for more than just a few hours. 

“Y/n” he mutters, the delicate tone in which he says your name a weakness you had never been able to overcome. In his mouth, he holds words he has prepared for this exact day - reasons and explanations he should’ve given you in the past but had never had the guts to. 

“Don't marry him” he says instead.

Your eyes don't dare blink as you process what he has just uttered, your entire body stiff with the request. It feels like a slap on the face, an unforgivable offense but you can’t bring yourself to react except for the tears that swell in your eyes. 

“Why?” your bottom lip trembles and every muscle in your body pleads for you to turn away, to shut out his voice - to pretend like you didn't hear the purpose of his visit. 

“Why are you doing this to me?” 

“Did you think I would let you go through with this? Your surprise shocks me” he chuckles, moving towards you while you move away - until your back is pressed against the wall and he stands but a few inches away.

“Taehyung, please just go” you speak confidently, you try to find other words that would persuade him away from you but your mind goes blank, you know deep in your soul that you don't believe any of the things you push yourself to say and so you swing a cheap punch in hopes that it will land. 

“I love Joseon.”

Taehyung closes his eyes as Joseon’s name flows through your mouth, indignation building inside of him with the recognition that it's his name you should be whispering. He leans closer, causing you to sink deeper in the position you are in, fearing that if he dares touch you then your entire act will begin to deteriorate.

“Are you wearing the perfume I like?” he whispers “You are too cruel, Y/n” he opens his eyes and he scans every feature on your face, including your panicked eyes. 

You don't open your mouth to speak a word, entranced by his dark auburn pupils, your mouth falls agape and your chest rises and falls at the same tune his does. It has always been so easy for you to fall back into Taehyung, regardless of how many times he came and went and though you grip onto the scraps of dignity you have left, you know today is no exception. 

“Taehyung” you mumble, his name heavy on your tongue. 

He leans in closer and his fingers lightly trail the exposed skin of your thigh, the tingling sensation causing you to flinch at the absent touch and contrary to what you want to believe, everything inside of you wants to lean into it. 

“Look at you” he sighs “You look like a princess” he moves his lingering fingers closer to the lace of your white lingerie, his fingers tracing the intricate patterns there. 

“Is this for him?” Taehyung hums, harshness pouring from his throat. 

“Does he know?” he asks, his stare calling for yours “that when you fuck him you think of me?” he bites, coaxing a whimper to fall from your mouth. 

“That when you stare into his face ever so lovingly that you imagine it's me and not him.”

“don’t” You shake your head, your hands reach forward to push him back but he doesn’t budge - a menacing expression on his face. 

“Huh” he scoffs, a smile spreading across his cheeks “I guess he doesn’t.”

You remove your stare from him, your lips pressing together and you hate him, hate him for the way he is making you feel right now. You hate the way he has stepped back into your life as if nothing has changed like you have belonged to him this entire time - like he’s not an intruder. 

“That's not true” you snap back “In fact, I don't think about you at all” your eyes filled with disdain traveling back to his. 

Taehyung nods his head mockingly, feigning understanding but he doesn’t move from his position, his hand still brushing the skin of your upper thigh. He leans further in, burying his face into the nape of your neck, his nose brushing against the skin there - causing your breath to wedge itself ardently in your throat. 

“When you lie your voice raises in pitch and your nose scrunches slightly and if it was anyone else they would probably miss it but I-” he pauses, his breath cascading over your skin, the sensation leaving shivers down your spine. 

He raises his stare to your face once again, a small smile forming on his lips as he takes in your flushed cheeks. 

“Don't you worry love the only person you have to lie to moving forward is my twin brother” Taehyung remarks, his slander pointer finger softly sliding down to your belly button. 

“And yourself of course” he adds bitterly.  

You had met Junseo first, he was reserved and quiet, often hiding away in his books. It was the reason why you realized only 3 months later that you both shared the same history class and that he sat next to you. In the beginning, it had been a mesh of small cordial smiles and polite hello’s and then eventually, you had both found yourself in thorough conversations where you dissected his knowledgable mind, meeting after class for coffee and ultimately sharing your first kiss in the university library. 

It had been perfect, movie-like almost until one-day Junseo failed to attend class, and as a joke, his brother took his place. You hadn’t noticed it was Taehyung instead of your well-mannered boyfriend until your lips had met. The yearning on his lips as they collided with yours was unfamiliar yet exhilarating, it was as if 2 lovers had embraced each other after years of distance. 

You couldn't accept it, not even when they both sat across from you whilst Junseo finally introduced him to you,  all while Taehyung watched you intently, taking in the strain your nervous system went through as you tried to assimilate the information. 

Wondering if you would tell his twin brother of the kiss you both had shared or of the other transgressions you partook in on your bedroom floor. 

If you did, who could blame you? They were practically the same person but you didn’t then and you haven’t now. 

“You will marry him and you’ll spend the rest of your life looking for me in him, in others in the hopes that they can replicate what only I can give you” his mouth parts, his tongue slipping out to lick along the skin of your neck causing your legs to clamp together and an unwarranted sigh to escape you. 

“You’ll see my face reflected on every surface that you look onto seething for my presence but you’ll never find me” Taehyung glides his hand against your abdomen, softly and sleekly, becoming dangerously close to the part of you that aches for his attention. 

“I can almost see it, Y/n an old and empty woman consoling herself with the idea that she did the right thing” he annunciates, his fingers slipping past your silk white thong and finding its place between your thighs, his fingers finding your clit as he trails kisses on your shoulder. 

“Taehyung” 

His name is meant to sound as a warning, as a sign for him to stop but it bellows out as a moan, liquid gold falling into his ears. 

“What my love?” he hums, moving his face to meet yours - his mouth coming to capture yours which had remained agape. 

His hand doesn’t stop, his fingers pressing onto your sensitive nub in circular motions whilst his tongue floods your mouth. His fingers move slowly against your warm drenched pearl, carving out each movement he knows you love, the ones he taught you made you climax in the blink of an eye and you become puddy under his touch, moaning against his mouth as he drives you closer to that euphoric senseless feeling you have craved for so long.

Taehyung pulls away from your lips, his tongue licking along your reddened plump lips, a hiss pouring out of his as he catches your blissful expression, the feeling of your juices covering his fingers enticing an animalistic desire inside of him. 

“It feels good, doesn't it?” he groans, a question you can’t answer regardless if the answer sits on the tip of your tongue, you are breathless and completely wrecked. 

The speed at which his fingers move increases, an evil smirk spreading across his face as his eyes darken with utter admiration. Taehyung has lusted for this moment for so long that now that he stands here, it feels surreal. In his mind he has replayed this scenario time after time, touching himself to the thought of watching you cum. 

“Answer me” he pleads, his brows knitting in concentration - replicating the pleasure on your face. You nod quickly, your eyes fluttering shut whilst your body trembles. You try to remember what breathing feels like, try to find it within yourself to bring air into your lungs but your walls clench around his fingers and your mouth falls open - a trail of moans and whimpers cascading out of it. 

“Do you want me to fuck you?” Taehyung hums, his tone innocent as if his words don't implicate anything like nothing matters and you wish that you could come back to your senses, it's wrong that he’s touching you like this and it's wrong that you are letting him. You wish that you could push him away and berate him but you want him everywhere, all at once and in this moment nothing matters, not even your morality. 

Your body complies to his request with a loud whimper and within a second, his hand peels away from your throbbing cunt, his arms reaching behind your legs until they are wrapped around his waist. He moves towards the bed where he places your body on top of your wedding dress, the one you are supposed to be wearing at this moment whilst your expecting fiance waits for you at the altar. 

You look up at him with lustful eyes, noting the veins that run through his hands as he removes his suit jacket, the dark blue fabric flying across the room. 

“Fuck you look gorgeous” Taehyung mutters, biting onto his lower lip. His hand reaches for your cheek, caressing the skin softly - his thumb gliding against your lips until you part them, sucking it inside. 

Your tongue twists around the digit causing him to moan out loudly. 

“Im going to fuck you so good love” he promises.

He reaches to undo his belt buckle whilst bringing your body further up the bed until your head is almost at the headboard. He slides his belt off with a swift pull, his eyes beaming with ardor as he watches your willing body lay underneath his. 

“Give me your hands” Taehyung instructs, a playful grin emerging on his face. 

“I-i” you hesitate. 

To do as told would be to be left under his devices, a victim to his rigorous plans and you know better, you ready yourself to decline because you shouldn’t be here in the first place and you know someone will be knocking on your door any minute now, concerned for your whereabouts but your body screams for his attention and so you oblige like Taehyung knows you will. 

In a swift movement, your hands are tied to the headboard above you, the black leather of his Hermes belt pressed tightly against your wrist, you let out a small whimper and when you turn to face him once again, he’s standing at the end of the bed. 

Taehyung eyes trace every inch of your skin as if it is the first time he has seen you in this light yet, it's not. He can give master classes on your naked body, and go on 3 hour rants of how to make you cum. He knows you, he knows it all. 

You quiver slightly, begging for his attention and if it wasn’t for the heat that rises through your entire body, you’d probably feel pathetic. 

“What's wrong love?” Taehyung coos. 

“Taehyung” you whimper. 

“Yes?” 

He’s teasing you, luring you into saying what he’s been daydreaming of hearing for weeks now, ever since the invitation arrived in the mail. He couldn’t bring himself to accept it, it was always supposed to be him in Joseon’s place, he needed to be the one responsible for your happiness, not his charactless brother. 

Him. 

He wanted to hear you say that you chose him. 

“Please” it’s a sigh, a breath you whisk out of your lungs as your body trembles in anticipation. 

Taehyung unbuttons his shirt slowly, each button getting his utmost attention - his eyes never leaving your laying figure. He knows you are running out of time but Taehyung does not care to rush, in fact he will milk this moment for all it’s worth because if this is the last time that he gets to see you like this, whimpering his name then he will make sure neither of you forget it. 

Besides, the way you lay tied to the bed, expecting his touch lures a heightened level of lust to spread inside of him, causing his heart to beat faster, for his hardened cock to press against his freshly ironed cashmere pants. He can't bring himself to think straight, not when you wait for him in your white-laced lingerie and the only thought that crosses his mind is of how good your warm walls will feel around his cock. 

Taehyung drops the shirt from his shoulders, slowly crawling on top of you. His head lowers until his lips brush against your abdomen, leading your body to quiver at the feeling of his warm breaths cascading over your skin. 

His slender hands grip your waist, carefully hooking his fingers around the waistband of your thong and with a swift movement they are gone, your lower body now exposed for his admiration. 

The loud sound of your heart slamming against your chest is all that you can hear, the mere anticipation of what he will do leaving you breathless. You watch intently as he slowly parts your legs, his soft hands moving under your thighs - removing the weight from your body until your needy cunt is but inches away from his face. 

Taehyung collects saliva on his tongue and he spits, covering your folds in his tepid saliva but he doesn't allow enough time for you to react as his tongue begins to slide against your cunt, licking as if your slit is a sweet delicacy. 

You try to keep yourself from moaning out but the hiss that erupts from your mouth betrays you, accompanied by a trail of struggled breaths and soft moans. 

He loses himself at the taste of you in his mouth, your juices spreading across his face and he can't deny the thrill the tremble of your legs causes him. He can't stop, savoring your wetness with each lick of his tongue. 

The urge to run your fingers through his hair leaves you frustrated, your arms pulling on the restraints that halt your desired movements. You can feel it, the pressure in your lower abdomen. It drives your eyes to flutter shut and for your moans to become obstreperous. 

His tongue focuses on your drooling hole whilst his nose rubs against your clit, the combination taking you to a complete state of euphoria. Your hands grip the leather of his belt harshly and your body begins to tremor, you are close - dangerously so. 

Your hips buck against his face causing his grip on your ass to tighten as he tries to keep you in place but it's no use, your hips rotate against his tongue hungrily - your body seeking your sweet honeyed climax. 

“Oh god,” you huff, struggling to catch your next breath. 

“Yes.”

“yes right there, oh god.”

“Taehyung!” the scream that crawls out of your mouth sounds pained but it's far from it, it's a call for more, the need for his soft lips and warm mouth becoming ungovernable. 

The blend of his saliva and your arousal flows past your thighs as you allow yourself to call out his name once more which only leads Taehyung to bury his face deeper into your willing cunt, his tongue moving in circles against your throbbing nub. 

Your body stiffens with the next movement of his tongue, clamping your thighs against his head. A string of curses leave your lips as your climax overloads all your senses but Taehyung continues devouring your cunt, collecting your entire orgasm into his mouth. 

“You taste amazing” he hums breathlessly, his tongue licking the residue of you from his lips. 

You watch him through hooded eyes as he leaves open-mouth kisses on your inner thighs and then on your hips, his now disheveled strands of black hair lingering over his face. 

You whimper out whilst his hands soothingly brush against the skin of your ass, bringing your lower body back onto the white duvet that covers the bed under you. His eyes meet yours, his utterly lust-darkened pupils contrasting with your worn-out gaze. 

“Do you want more, love?” Taehyung asks “Think you can handle it?”

You nod despite knowing your body has not recovered from the high that has just rocked it, your breaths labored but your body presses for more. If your skin could speak it would divulge the way it has missed him, of the many nights it has spent seeking him. 

A faint yes comes out of your lips and Taehyung kneels before you, bringing your legs around his waist. His hands slide against the skin of your inner thighs, easing the strain his tongue has left you. 

He lowers his boxers, revealing his hardened tortured cock, which he alleviates with a few pumps from his hand. A soft groan falls from his lips as he looks down at you. From where he hovers in front of you, he takes in the beams of sweat forming on your skin, the way your chest rises and falls with every breath you take and the flush on your skin, the tincture a recalled memory of late nights in your dorm. 

He lowers the tip, teasingly gliding it against your warm clit, and the throbbing there causes his whole body to quiver with the ache that has remained buried inside of him. Your body jolts in response and your breath hilts in your throat. 

“You want me, love?” he chuckles lowly. 

“Yes,” you exhale sharply. 

A sly smirk forms on Taehyung’s lips and with a swift thrust he dips inside of you, vasting in the blissful sensation of your tight walls stretching out just for him. His hips move steadily, careful not to hurt you and before he can begin to move his entire length inside of you, you’re already a mess of whimpers and moans, the pulsations of his cock vibrating against your walls. 

He’s bigger than you remember and when he finishes burying himself inside you can feel his cock brush against your lower abdomen, the pressure that forms there causing you to let out a loud moan. He waits patiently for you to adjust because all Taehyung has is time and the unreasonable need to turn you out. 

“Look at you taking it all” Taehyung whispers, his eyes fixed on your bodies interlinked.

Your muscles ease and he begins his masterful strokes. Bringing his hips back and forth skillfully. His hand slid to your breast, guiding his thumb to draw out the movements of his hips on your nipples. 

With each thrust your body quivers, your legs pressing around his waist. His other hand brings your hips up higher until your ass is on his lap, driving his cock to hit angles you didn't know existed. 

“You may not miss me love, but your pussy says otherwise” Taehyung hums through groans “It takes me so well, like it was made for me.”

Your entire body shudders at his words, an overwhelming feeling of flusteredness coming over you. From his mouth, he spills a truth that you can’t deny, regardless of how much you’ve fought off the urge. He is the only one that you can allow yourself to lose with, the only man that can see all of you in this way. 

Utterly vulnerable. 

Your eyes study the pleasure in Taehyung’s expression as he plunges inside of you, it is pure satisfaction - his eyes closed and his eyebrows knitted in concentration as if he wants to engrave this in his memory. The sight alone causes your mound to quiver, for your core to drip around him. 

“Fuck Y/n”

His hands keep you in place as he picks up the pace, pounding his cock into you quickly. The sound of your previous orgasm gliding on his thick member leaving a chorus of pleasure inside the bedroom, the sound bounces from the wall and erupts into every crevice in the room whilst you both moan in unison. 

His movements are erratic and you can tell he’s close. Taehyung can feel himself losing restraint and all he wants is to fill you up with his cum, to witness your pretty cunt oozing with his nectar. 

“Tae hah” you shriek, the faint burning sensation beginning to form on your lower belly once again, you can tell this climax will be more intense than the last, your legs beginning to tremble from where they remain wrapped around him. 

“Just a little more, love” Taehyung exhales. 

You let out a trail of curse words, coaxing him to bring his eyes to yours, the yearning in both your gazes amped by the snap of his hips. 

The sounds of your intertwined moans are interrupted by a knock on the door and your body stiffens, your eyes widen in fear and you know you’ve run out of time - your guest waiting for your arrival. 

“Y/n?” Brie’s voice is muffled by the door separating her and your naked bodies. 

“Taehyung” You look back at him, panic in your tone but Taehyung does not appear to be startled by Brie’s abrupt return. It’s as if she’s not even there. 

“Shhhh” he instructs, moving from his kneeling position and coming between your legs, his body lying on top of yours now. 

“Don't worry” he whispers into your ear, his hand rising to brush away the strands of your hair that cling to your damp skin. 

“Just focus on me” Taehyung moves himself inside once more. You look up to him, concern written all over your expression but the feeling of your incoming climax is all too overpowering.  His tempo is cautious now, subsiding the alarm in your nerves, and you lose focus of the issue at hand. 

It’s like it doesn’t matter but it should. 

“I know you are close” he nods, leaving small kisses along your jawline “Let me make you cum one last time” Taehyung pleads. 

This is wrong and you know it, a line has been crossed but your legs wrap themselves around him once again, the clear indication that you have no intentions of ending what has already been started. Taehyung’s lips find your neck as he continues - sliding his hands below your ass and bringing you closer, his kisses he leaves on your skin hot and passionate.

“I don't think she left” You can hear Brie’s worried voice once more but you try to drown her out, withholding a moan in your mouth in hopes that she doesn’t notice that you are still there. 

“Answer her” he pants “before she calls someone to open the door.”

The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind but of course that would be her next course of action, given the state she had left you in when you asked for some alone time. You looked up at Taehyung, a curl forming against his lips as he stares down at you. 

He’s enjoying this in ways you can't even understand. 

You don’t think yourself capable of uttering a single word. The only thing coming from your mouth are bare moans and whimpers but you part your lips to speak, hoping Brie won’t catch the tremble in your voice. 

“Brie” your voice quivers. 

“Oh god Y/n! Are you okay?” Brie approaches the door, setting her ear against it in hopes that she can hear you better. 

Taehyung takes this opportunity to move faster inside of you, the bed beginning to squeak against the force he implements with his hips. You look up at him quickly, a loud moan threatening to pour from you. 

“Go on” Taehyung groans, his voice playful and excited. 

“I-i am fine” you whimper, your wrists twisting against the restraint. 

“Everyone is waiting for you” Brie pauses, looking up at the ceiling in desperation “Everyone is worried.”

“I” you begin but your climax has built too great for you to control, your entire body beginning to spasm as Taehyung withdraws his cock and slams back inside. Your eyes fall shut, unable to provide an answer to the concerned woman on the other side of the door. 

“Y/n?” 

“Fuck” you sigh loudly. 

“Is everything okay? Do you need help with your dress?” 

“Do you?” Taehyung laughs, his hand gripping your thigh as he too feels his climax nearing. 

“Taehyung please” you beg, rolling your hips against his.  

“What's wrong love?” he questions with a huff. 

You know he needs to stop for you to concentrate but there isn’t any part of you in this moment that wants him to, not in the slightest. You open your mouth once again, trying to give Brie a coherent response but as it falls apart a loud moan escapes in its place, one that Taehyung capturs in his mouth as he places his lips over yours. 

Your body begins to tense as your orgasm ripples inside of you, each loud moan being whisked away by Taehyung’s tongue and soon his muffled groans can be heard as his cock shoots strings of cum inside of you, the feeling of his warm milk causing goosebumps along your skin. 

You both remain still, riding out the high that has blinded both your senses. Your chest chest’s rising and falling in unison, labored breaths fanning within each other faces. You can’t bring yourself to open your eyes. Afraid that if you do you will have to come back to reality or perhaps because you’d melt into Taehyung’s stare once more. 

You feel the weight of his body ease and then with a swift pull, he unravels the belt that once had held your hands together, your wrists left sore from the harsh leather. 

“Y/n” he calls for you, the sound of his soft tone bringing warmth to your body. 

Your eyes open gently, your vision blurred until Taehyung’s auburn pupils come into focus and you cling to them, on the way their color fluctuate and blends into each other. Your weary gaze then trails to the almost undetectable mole that remains on his lower lash line, the one that you should’ve noticed the day you crossed paths. The small insignificant spot is the only thing that differentiates the two brothers. 

Would it have mattered?

If you had known back then that it was Taehyung instead of Joseon, would you have pulled away from his kiss with distaste? The question that has tormented you for years rises above the surface, bringing forth a bitter feeling inside your chest. 

Would it have changed anything?

“Run away with me” The words flow out of him effortlessly, with so much simplicity that you can’t even bring yourself to react to the proposition. Earnisty clads itself to his expression, his eyes holding within them pleads that he has been preparing to make for years. 

“What?” you whisper. 

“Come with me” he implores, his voice breaking as he extends his offer once again.

[crimethinc]

Ten years ago today, a police officer in Ferguson, Missouri murdered an unarmed teenager named Michael Brown. In response, for a week and a half, an ungovernable revolt raged as angry residents and their supporters used a variety of tactics including arson, property destruction, looting, and gunfire to keep police at a distance and impose consequences for the murder.

Most people outside Black and brown communities had no idea how frequently police murder people in the United States until these events forced the topic into public discussion. This set a precedent for subsequent rebellions around the country, culminating with a countrywide upheaval in response to the murder of George Floyd.

A timeline of the Ferguson revolt:

https://crimethinc.com/FergusonTimeline

A full account from one of the anarchists who participated:

https://crimethinc.com/LootingBack

[gffa]

All you ever need to know about Bruce and Dick's relationship is that, when a social worker comes to visit and Bruce is dead serious about this and genuinely mad, baby Dick Grayson is NOT afraid of this man, and he can and WILL make it worse if you try to force him to behave. Dick Grayson is UNGOVERNABLE.

[venussaidso]

Ketu, the drainer.

This is the scene where Plainview reveals to poor naive Eli that he'd been tricked by him, having all the land drained of the Bandy oil that Eli thought was still under his name, flexing his dominance and power over him, before murdering him in coldblood.

Ashwini, being underdeveloped while being ruled by Mars, makes it more chaotic and unfocused, as Ketu is associated with darkness and ignorance, being considered Tamasik. Aries, being named after the Roman god of war, is associated with battles and conquest. So this dark, murderous competitive nature within Plainview highlights him as Ashwini (as the actor that portrays him also has Bharani Sun and Mula ASC).

There's a quality to Ashwini, which is due to Ketu, that has others forcibly submit to the native, therefore causing this drainage of the life force. This nakshatra possesses an extreme, ungovernable masculine energy within it that can be destructive to the individual themself and others.

Random, but I remember an observation by someone who said Jyestha and Ashwini natives have intense energies that make them similar by aura alone. This is a particularly interesting point, especially in terms of the heat and competitiveness they exude. But Ashwini is more fiery, and less grounded. Unlike Jyestha, it is much more vampiric and impulsive.

[enemymine2000]

It's official, US TikTok is going dark right now. Lives vanish bit by bit, East to West.

So time for the Tumblr house rules for those few, who'll find their way here:

Before everything else, personalize your blog! Put a different picture up, write a bio and/or make your first individual post, or people will think you are a bot. Then it's on sight. We block and report those immediately, thanks to the great porn bot wars.

Once that's done:

1. Speak clear and freely. Say what you mean, we don't do that 1984 Newspeek and emojis instead of words here.

2. Tags are a way to sort your stuff AND to communicate. But stay on topic. No spam tagging. And no censoring words or no one will ever be able find anything. Search system is shot enough to hell as is.

3. Don't like, don't read. The block button is your friend.

4. Reblog, don't repost. We don't steal content here. Always give credit. Which is also the reason for...

5. AI is not liked here. It is trained on stolen content. Just don't.

6. There is no such thing as a Tumblr influencer. Even our big names are just normal people, who just stick out due to longevity and/or weirdness.

7. Follower count doesn't matter. No one can see who has what amount of followers and we don't care.

8. Our "viral" posts are our heritage posts. Some might have breached containment and have been shared to other sites. We keep them going because we genuinely like them or want to keep the ancient magic alive.

9. Which leads to likes. They are nice and you obviously are not supposed not to give them, but they don't really matter apart from spamming the notifications of the OP. Reblogging keeps Tumblr alive.

10. We have our own holidays. Don't worry, you will not be forced to partake, but you will be confronted with them. Unless there is another round of The Boopening. Sorry, but no one escapes The Boopening! (Many prefer it to the Mishapocalypse, but this the SPN site, so never discount a Mishapocalypse. Or getting your news via Destiel meme.)

11. Our lore (Tumblr history) is wild. Stolen bones, human pets, dashcon, crucifix nail nipples, the bullying of John Green off the platform (the totally unrelated intern of a coffee company has forgiven us), female presenting nipples, Goncharov, crab raves... This site has been around for a very long time and a lot of us have been around for most of that. We are proud to have remained "ungovernable" and are unapologetic about it, thus we celebrate our history. Even the failures.

12. You can use the "discover" feed of course. But we basically only ever use the "following". No algorithm, just an endless reverse chronological scroll.

13. There is no verification system. We know that people like Wil Wheaton, Lynda Carter and Misha Collins are the real deal, because they verified themselves through other official means. Otherwise everybody can be whoever they want to be. Meaning also that you always should use common sense before chipping in with donations.

14. It's your blog, not some social media account. If you change interests (however often you want), just post about those. Your followers mostly won't care. Hell, about 90% of the blogs I follow have changed names, themes and topics so many times, I don't even remember why I followed in the beginning. (The amount of second hand knowledge about shows/movies I obtained...) If it gets too much, unfollow or block relevant tags.

15. Pixelated icons indicate that the blog has been flagged/self-reported as containing adult themes, mainly nudity. Goes back to great porn purge (see female presenting nipples). It's also why sometimes posts have pictures removed for going against Tumblr's content policy. There is still enough nudity going around.

Welcome, have fun, look around, find your niche, and don't worry. We don't bite. Much.

[theslumberinggod]

The Wanderer's Tagalong, Part 7: Ache

•~°~•

Have you ever wanted to make someone smile?

Have you ever wanted to make someone laugh?

Have you ever wanted to hold them tight, tight within your arms, and feel their warmth and share all of yours? 

Have you ever looked at someone, and see the cracks rippling beneath the surface? See the hardness in their eyes, knowing it was born of hurt? Have you ever see someone, and seen years of agony and the crushing, suffocating lack of love carved crudely into their being?

Have you ever wanted to start sealing up those wounds yourself, and pour in them every ounce of love you had?

Have you ever just desperately wanted to love someone…even in the smallest ways, to the biggest?

You pulled your needle and thread through the fabric of the torn shirt, the black material smooth and of some intricate weave that took some extra precision to sew up more cleanly. You leaned over your work out of a force of habit, to see the stitches better and be more accurate with your movements.

You inhaled---it smelled like the wind, and that bitter tea He loved so much. You were baffled how he could drink that disgusting drink, it was bitter enough to the point to make your tongue hurt. It was the only thing you ever saw Him drinking. He never ate---except when to occasionally snatch food off your plate when you made your favorite breakfast over the fire.

Your travel companion would reach under your arm when you weren’t looking, swiftly and deftly taking a piece before drawing back and tossing it in his mouth. He’d give you a smirk, pale bluish-purple eyes glinting in amusement. He’d say things you didn’t understand, and sometimes he’d laugh.

You decided in the end that you’d act surprised every time he did take from your food---he did every single time you made that particular meal. It made him laugh.

The lack of understanding in this strange, dangerous, beautiful and breathtaking world had forced you to hone your perception. You noticed things you were sure if anything made sense, you wouldn’t have. You noticed how the air changed around Him when he used his magic, how the pendant hanging on his chest and lines under his clothes would light up. There was a strange, jagged symbol intertwining on the back of his neck that would glow too.

You glanced up from your work, where He sat in front of the fire, boiling water for his bitter drink. His coat hung loosely around his shoulders, and you could see clearly the strange markings that crawled up his chest and around his neck. They lay dormant, appearing nothing more than faded tattoos along his oddly smooth skin. What was the most odd though, was the hole in his chest.

It was small, opening like a cavity into his being, as if he was hollow. It was shaped distinctly of what reminded you of a chess piece. Why did he have that there? Did it hurt? What was it for---maybe it was a keyhole? Many questions that wouldn’t be answered.

When He had begrudgingly given  you his tattered shirt to fix after a skirmish with strange, hulking beasts that seemed to roam ungoverned over the land, you had pointed it out. You saw the shift in His gaze, and took note of the sharper edges to his soft voice. You did not know what he said, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out what he meant.

Your name being called pulled you out of your thoughts and He was looking at you with that slight furrow in his brows that once in your first few weeks of travel felt like knives. He tilted his head, inquiringly.

“Just staring off into space,” You answered with a sheepish smile, looking back down at his shirt in your hands. He hummed in acknowledgement. Words not understood passes easily between you, as did the quiet silence. You paused before your resumed your needlework, wondering if he would come over and as you things or make comments, if he’d poke you in the shoulder in what you saw as boredom and playfulness masked under the hardened guise of irritation.

Your perception was keen, it had become very keen. You had discovered your dear friend was someone who hurt a lot----it was written in his every movement, it swirled in his eyes and the way he jerked his hands or held his arms close to himself. The way he seemed to hesitate before reaching out,  the way he stared so hard into nothing, the way he walked along the road, the way the air shifted around him when he talked or uses his magic----it was pressed into the strange tattoos on his skin, the hole grinded into his chest, revealing the lack of anything inside.

Despite all that, he had been generous to you, kind, even affectionate.

He bought you a new sketchbook. He ruffled your hair, he let you lean into his chest and cry all the heavy aches that came with these long travels. He tugged on your wrist to lead you somewhere, he smiled at you sometimes, and he laughed.

He was a friend, a real one. A real friend, that in these long months, you couldn’t wait until you figured out the next little word in his strange, difficult to speak language. To close that gap.

His actions had said so much to you, and you hope yours did too. A longing started working its way in your chest, it was big, so big it crawled out your chest into your arms and seemed to pull on your fingers like strings.

You hoped, so, so badly, that all the times you made him tea, and made him laugh, and showed him something you found, all the times you patched up his clothes or patched him up, all the times, all those times it said it. It said what you couldn’t say. It said the words you couldn’t communicate. You hoped so, so badly it did.

Your name was called again. He finished his tea and was carefully putting the fire out, snapping his fingers, that beautiful, strange light dragging the fire out of existence. The sun had been down for a long time now. You frowned, lifting up his shirt, demonstrating the unfinished state of your work.

He shook his head, standing up and made a shooing motion towards your sleeping place. He said things you didn’t understand---some ‘no’ you think, as he pointed at the dark sky where the sliver, crescent moon hung high.

You needed to sleep. He was telling you to go to bed, that it was late. Finish tomorrow, he was saying. His eyes were hard and concerned in a mess of pale purple, the stars and moon glancing off his figure, making his skin perfectly white and figure somewhat daunting.

“Fine, fine,” You sighed dramatically. That got a snort out of him as he walked in a circle around the camp, doing what you could only assume as a quick lookout. You carefully folded his shirt, taking in a deep breath. It smelled like wind, something else you couldn’t define, and that bitter drink he loved so much. You put it in your satchel and closed the latches, taking your cloak and wrapping it firmly around yourself and laid down on the ground you had gotten used to sleeping on.

Stars glittered above, and He came to sit next to you. Your eyes drifted to the oddly shaped hole in his chest, the evidence of something missing. His pale eyes searched the horizon for something or nothing. They snapped to you. He spoke.

“I wish I could…” You sighed, trailing off. You wish you could do many things. He shook his head, coming to his own conclusion, reaching out awkwardly and ruffling your hair. You smiled.

He pulled his hand away, going back to whatever he did on these long, cold nights. He sat so close, that strange energy that radiated around him seeped into your very being, and you watched from the ground as his eyes filled themselves with something like a storm.

That feeling in your chest burned, the aching, painful desire to reach out.

You wanted so badly to make him smile.

To make him laugh.

To hold him tight.

Both your actions were plenty loud.

But few words spoke so powerfully, as ‘I love you.’

And how desperately did you want to say that to him, and have him understand. 

[tieflingkisser]

Drone attacks raise stakes in new phase of Sudan's civil war

from the article:

Paramilitary fighters appear to have opened a new phase in Sudan's civil war after being driven from the capital, in a move which some experts have described as a "shock and awe campaign".

Just weeks after the army celebrated the recapture of Khartoum, its foe the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) launched a series of unprecedented drone strikes on Port Sudan in the east of the country.

The attacks have led to worsening power blackouts, as well as city residents facing water shortages.

[...]

Unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs) helped the army advance earlier this year. And the RSF escalated its own use of drones as it was pushed out of central Sudan, especially Khartoum, back towards its traditional stronghold in the west of the country.

In recent months the paramilitaries had stepped up drone strikes on critical civilian infrastructure in army-controlled areas, such as dams and power stations.

But their sustained attacks on Port Sudan, until now seen as a safe haven home to government officials, diplomats and humanitarian organisations, underlined a shift in strategy to a greater emphasis on remote warfare, and aimed to demonstrate strength.

"The RSF is trying to show that they don't need to reach Port Sudan by land in order to be able to have an impact there," says Sudanese political analyst Kholood Khair.

The group is trying to achieve a "narrative shift" away from "the triumphant SAF that took over Khartoum," she says.

"It is saying to the Sudanese Armed Forces: 'You can take Khartoum back, but you'll never be able to govern it. You can have Port Sudan, but you won't be able to govern it, because we will cause a security crisis for you so large that it will be ungovernable'... They want to unequivocally show that the war is not over until they say so."

[...]

"This is a war of technology," says Justin Lynch, managing director at Conflict Insights Group, a data analytics and research organisation.

"That's why the foreign supporters are so important, because it's not like the RSF is making the weapons themselves. They're being given this stuff."

The army has accused the United Arab Emirates (UAE) of supplying the paramilitary fighters with the drones, and cut diplomatic ties with Abu Dhabi because of the attacks.

The UAE has strongly rejected the charges. It has long denied reports from UN experts, US politicians and international organisations that it is providing weaponry to the RSF.

But Mr Lynch says the evidence is overwhelming.

[bitchcakegreen]

Overwhelming passion in Bridgerton.

“Isn't physical attraction one of the ungovernable forces? You know, like gravity - that's what we like about it. Downhill, release the brakes, loosen your grip and then - whoosh!”

What is overwhelming passion? It’s when the MC (main characters) can not function because of their all-consuming need for their person.

We see this on s1 and s2 too for sure, but it’s on full display on s3. Colin’s obsessive searching for Pen in crowded ballrooms and across meadows afterward balloon attacks shoot him to the top of the overwhelming desire list. The tender kisses yes, but the feral touches and kisses he claims from her are the epitome of overwhelming desire.

The scene in the alley, albeit a bit too short in my opinion, is a prime example. Despite his anger at Pen’s betrayal a simple declaration of love from her makes him a beast. I love a good backward walk against a wall scene in romance and we get two in s3. One Colin’s dream…also a moment of overwhelming desire, and the other is the alley.

One can even say their first time scene is the culmination of their overwhelming desire for each other. It’s tender and sweet but also raw and passionate. The perfect blending to achieve just the right feel. I’ve seen many people comment that they feel like a voyeur in the moment, like they shouldn’t be watching as they are intruding. That’s the best kind of love scene. The one that feels real.

[wintersnails]

House thinking he’s some kind of solitary ungovernable force. meanwhile he takes a case because Wilson asked, or Cuddy wore a low-cut top, or he thought it would annoy Foreman, or Cameron asked, or Wilson batted his eyelashes or…

[glassfirefly]

In different ways, both Syd Barrett and Rick Wright were let down by Pink Floyd. Neither really wanted to leave the group, yet both were forced to, leaving a nasty taste in the mouth, no matter how well Roger Waters and David Gilmour managed without them.

Oh, Syd was mad, though, wasn’t he…? Actually, he had never been required to take medication specifically for his mental health. There was some speculation that he might have suffered from Asperger’s syndrome, a developmental disorder on the autism spectrum. Classic symptoms include difficulty with social interactions and incorrectly interpreting social cues. Asperger’s sufferers are often highly intelligent, just unconcerned with anything that doesn’t directly affect them.

As for Wright, he was a victim of Waters’s ungovernable egotism, banished to the shadows after The Wall. Go back to those earliest Floyd recordings, though, and you’re reminded that neither Waters nor Gilmour had much to do with the musical mien of a group that, at its best, relished its outsider status, as evidenced by its two most fragile personalities: Barrett and Wright.

[…]

In so many ways, Wright was the yin to Barrett’s yang; as pretty as Syd, but full of light where Syd was found by darkness, and almost as prolific on his fairy-tale keyboards and buttercup vocals as Syd was on his scribbly guitar and permanently astonished songs. And as easy to scare away when things finally got too much.

50 years of Floyd: Remembering Syd Barrett & Rick Wright – Loudersound.com, 12 August 2015

[atticuseros]

all my roads end with you

by atticus

My baby brother asked me this one time: “Why didn’t you go? When you saw what I am?” With a voice so soft it nearly broke me in two.

Dexter, with his eyes lowered like he carry the weight of every shattered thing he'd ever touched, like the blood on his hands makes him unworthy of love, like he believe—somehow—that he's unfit to be kept, to be chosen, to be stayed for.

And I laugh bitterly, not at him but at the absurdity of the question. Because it’s like asking the tide why it returns to the shore, or asking fire why it clings to the match that lit it. You are my beginning and my end, Dexter. Don’t you understand that? Don’t you know what you are to me?

Why would I let my eyes wander, when before me stands the only soul who has ever reflected my own in its wildest and most ungovernable form? What need have I to seek companionship in the gazes of strangers, when all the lightning and fire of my nature meets its echo in the man whose blood beats the same rhythm as mine?

Sweetheart, you are not merely a brother, but you're also the mirror to my madness, the anchor to my rage, the cathedral in which all the noise of my soul finds reverence and silence.

The world could set itself on fire and I would not blink, so long as I could still trace the curve of your cheek with my eyes and know that you breathes the same air as I.

You speak of being broken as if I haven’t always seen the cracks. As if I didn’t run my fingers along them when we were little and tracing the splinters in your heart like they were holy, like they told a story only I was meant to read. You wear your damage like armor, but I was there before it was forged. I saw the shadow behind your eyes take shape, and I never flinched. Not once.

Because I was born to love you in everything. I don’t want your perfect pieces. I don’t want some sterilized version of you. I want the real you. The one you bury beneath masks and lies. The one who doesn’t know how to be held because he’s spent his life being feared or fixed or used. That’s the you I came back for.

You think I should have run, but where would I go that you are not? There is no elsewhere for me. Only you. You, with blood on your hands and ghosts in your mouth. You, who kills to quiet the noise. You, who thinks he’s unworthy of love because no one ever stayed long enough to prove otherwise.

But I have. I do.

Because I see you, Dex. I see all of you. And I don’t stay in spite of what you are, I stay because of it. Because you are the only one who matches the chaos in me. Because you are the only one who doesn't shrink away from the dark. Because we were cut from the same wound, raised in separate places, but always, always meant to find each other again.

I stayed because the world without you is unlivable. Because there is no hunger I have that does not end in you. Because when I look at you, I still see the boy who held my hand and searching for comfort when the thunder outside threatened to get inside our house.

And you ask me why I stayed?

Oh, darling brother, I never left. Not truly. Even when they took me, even when they forced the world between us, even when they shoved lies down my throat and tried to bleach your name from my memory.

I still held on. To you. To us.

My eyes do not wander because they cannot. You held me in a tether so tight it binds my soul with chains warmer than any lover’s embrace. To look upon another would be to commit the gravest of treacheries, it's against my very nature.

So ask me again if you must. Ask me a thousand times.

For my answer will still be the same.