[axxiom]

qveenofcups

retrieved from {here}

Jinri had a little too much to drink that night, not that she knows how to drink anything but ‘too much’, and anyone that knows Drunk Jinri knows about her bad habit of trying to take all of her clothes off. “Yeah! I am the Queen of the goddamn MOON! And I need to run HOME! Long live ME!” She was a yelling nuisance, stumbling towards the door of the bar as her hands fumbled with the complicated straps and buttons of her dress. The outfit choice was Sober Jinri’s defense against Drunk Jinri’s unstoppable urge to get naked, and it seemed to be working.

She was an embarrassment to herself, and boy was she going to regret this in the morning.  She always did.

“HA! go get ‘em, girl!”

taehyung is all knee-slapping laughs and shouts of encouragement until he sees jinri going for the straps of her dress. the first time he had gotten drunk with her and she started yanking at her clothes, he had figured it was just a case of wrong place, wrong time. the second time, he brushed it off because he had taken his own shirt off. he likes many things; heat is not one of them, and he’s not one to tell a woman she can’t do what a man can. the third time lands him in the moment, with jinri stumbling her way to the exit of a bar, looking dangerously close to stripping her way out. 

he launches into action and ignores the way his own drunken legs feel like jelly. “stop right there, queen!” he shouts. he reaches out for her, arms encircling her wholly as if he’s trying to keep her dress up via his own body. he rests his chin on her shoulder, awkwardly draped around her. “keep your clothes on. getting arrested isn’t on our agenda. i have work tomorrow.”

[axxiom]

@mxnsxga-93​

retrieved from {here}

　　　　　　　　Pure power, Huh? The younger male couldn’t help but allow a small smile to spread upon soft pink tiers at those words. A couple of seconds ago he swore Taehyung was in a mid-doze with the way his eyes had fluttered shut only to open and he had looked around their surroundings, Still out in the cold, cool spring air hitting against tanned skin, Sitting on the wooden bench that was making their arses become numb from being here for too long, Stomachs full from having already eaten from the late night market stalls. Yoongi had suggested that he takes the brunet home and they go separate ways for the night but no, the older of the two had different plans, That apparently sleep was for the weak ( which meant yoongi was a weakling ) because he was of power and didn’t need any, What a liar.

　　　　　　　　Shaking his head from utter amusement, The male outstretches his legs and Yoongi outstretches his arms above his head with a small noise that came forth afterwards. ❝Alright Mr. No needs sleep cause he’s not weak. What do you want to do?❞ He asks, Sitting up straight now, His arms resting in his lap as he turns his head to look at him, with curiosity, if they weren’t going to go home, then what was it they were going to do?

taehyung takes a look at his wrist, watch missing from the equation but still squinting as if he can read the time from his skin alone. “it’s only a freckle past dead-o-clock, so we should definitely get some beers.” he taps his wrist like he’s checking the time’s accuracy. if he had a watch, he figures it would be dead anyway. 

bringing his hands to rest behind his head, he arches his back with a satisfied groan, belly heavy from overindulging on street food. he takes a quick peek at the sky, one eye falling shut. “if the moon tells us anything, it’s that i still have enough time to get a nice buzz going before i have to skedaddle to work.” if a nice buzz means a whole pack of beer and a gnawing headache plaguing him through his early morning shift. then again, he’s worked under worse conditions. “what do you say?”

[axxiom]

                                   ❛ h e a d  i n  t h e  c l o u d s ❜

                         920101; gyeonggi born, seoul living

                                    sharp as butter, smooth as knives

                                                i like to drink air and breathe water

                                                                                                             abt . hstry . plts . dsclmr

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[axxiom]

raspblairy:

“Kiss your bills goodbye, my friend. Especially if you intend on hanging out with me more after this.” He shrugs his shoulders and traipses along with a smug but amused smile on his lips. Blair was always fast with friends, sometimes a little too fast, and here was no exception as he caught up to the other and slipped his arm into his. “Welcome. And I don’t know where you got that nickname from but I’m not about to stop you from using it. I am New York royalty.”

The hotel is one that Blair recognizes, from the few years he’d traveled to Korea with his family before he moved there himself. But now it seems entirely different as he follows a stranger-now-friend through the lobby. It’s a little bit of culture shock for him to see a bellhop that would normally lug his bags around high-five his companion like an old friend. The hotel seems more alive and less clinically neat this time around. “Do you live here or work here or..? You seem to know the place well. It is a bummer cause it sounds fancy and I like fancy. But I’ll settle for a steak or salad.”

glancing down at their linked arms, his lips twitch into a haughty sort of smile, then he looks forward as they wait for the elevator. he uses his free hand to nudge a few stray hairs out of his eyes, lips pursed in thought. “hmm, no and no.” he answers simply, dragging the other into the elevator with him when the doors slide open. he presses the button for the 24th floor and leans back against the handrail, eyes closing. 

“it’s kind of fancy, i guess. if you just like fancy, you must have a boring life. fancy is pretty predictable.” he peeks one eye open, giving the other an amused glance. “salad? huh, you’re one of those.” a chuckle makes its way past his lips, deep inhale through his nose following shortly. “name’s taehyung, by the way. what year were you born?”

the doors open and he doesn’t wait for an answer, already pulling the other along with him as he makes his way to the podium, exchanging only a glance with the hostess before they’re being seated. the few people they pass give his ensemble wary looks, but he seems oblivious as he sits and crosses an ankle over the opposite knee, hands perched in his lap like he’s right at home.

[axxiom]

pretty petals and paroxysm

[axxiom]

boksoon-ah:

she was experiencing one of her random bouts of atexophobia again.

boksoon steps back to admire her handiwork, imminently pleased with herself. a wry grin makes it way onto her features as she rolls her shoulders to ease her muscles, having been hard at work moving and shifting objects around the store. it was harder than it looks to lug around crate after crate lined with potted plants and garden decor. she could already feel her arm muscles beginning to ache. it was a small mercy that the weekend was coming up: meaning she wouldn’t have to putting more strain in her arms carrying around her books and laptop around the campus.

she dusts at the apron tied around her waist, taking a single step towards the backroom before a familiar tinkle halts her in her tracks. to say she wasn’t expecting to witness such a spectacle forcing its way into her store was a severe understatement. narrowed eyes catch sight of the figure’s facial features and it all makes sense to her then. ah, he’s back.

she couldn’t help but stare. who wouldn’t, considering the trash bag he’s dragging behind him, giving him an image resembling a much, much sadder version of santa claus.

“what the—,” boksoon makes it a point to refrain from cursing in the shop(might upset the flowers, her boss had said), “—frick is that?”

she wasn’t even entirely sure if he had heard her question, regarding her wit a bright grin and an enthusiastic wave, as if they were remotely anything but disgruntled florist and deranged customer. she only hopes the contents of the trash bag was not one of his many dead pets: previously-claimed recipients of the bouquets he has been purchasing regularly from the shop. a smart remark about her never being anywhere but the flower shop never makes it way past her lips as he’s answering her previous question without warning: all but tearing into the bag and spilling(essentially) flower carcass all over the shop floor.

“are you—,” boksoon makes it a point to refrain from cursing in the shop, “—fricking—” and today was not an exception, “out of your mind?”

petals fly like pretty snow, littering the floor and falling atop the surrounding plants with the remnants of his collection. he lets out a manic laugh, still spinning even when the bag is empty. he half wishes he had more so the moment didn’t have to end.

he slows his spin until he’s at a stop, facing the other and eyes meeting hers as he wraps the garbage bag around his neck like a cape. his lips twitch as he takes a step forward, making a point to slam his foot down, dried flowers crunching under its weight. 

step, crunch. step, crunch. step, crunch. 

“am i out of my mind?” he leans forward, meeting boksoon at eye level. “absolutely.” 

he reaches into his pocket, pulls out a small dandelion that looks crumpled and wilted. he uses a finger to delicately brush its stem as if he’s dusting it off, blows a soft puff of breath over its petals before boldly tucking it behind the girl’s ear. he stomps his foot down again, twisting it just to revel in the sound of destruction.

“you should have seen your face, boksoonie.” he places his hands on his hips and eyes the shop, looking pleased. “now, what to do with all this flower dust?”

[axxiom]

raspblairy:

Nostrils flaring, Blair leans in enough so that their noses do touch, never one to be the first to back off. He crosses his arms when the other pulls away and hesitates before following, his brows lifted in interest. “I’ll believe it’s yours if you pay for my lunch. Since you seem lonely and all… I guess I could do you a favor and eat with you.”

“Aw, jeez. I guess lunch is on me, then.” He pretends to be disappointed, sadly patting the wallet in his coat pocket like he’s saying goodbye to an old friend. His expression gives way to a wry smile, and he shoves his hands into his pockets as he turns his head to glance at the other. “Lonely and alone are very different things. But thank you for doing me such a kind favor, Prince.” 

He tongues his cheek with a pleased chortle, a skip infecting his step like he’s having too much fun for an early Wednesday afternoon. It takes but a few minutes to arrive in front of the hotel, and Taehyung walks in, immediately heading for the elevator, only stopping to high-five one of the bellhops scooting by. He presses the button for the elevator, rubbing the toe of his dirty shoe against the ground as they wait. “They have a great hanwoo steak here, you know. Always wanted to try their afternoon tea, but it’s only from two to five or something. Bummer, huh?”

[axxiom]

"What are we doing here?"

It’s no secret that Taehyung knows little to nothing about saju. In his head, he had come up with grandiose images of an old man wearing a hanbok, reading cards that would tell him exact details of his future. And he had planned to slam his hand on the table and laugh, to tell lies to throw off the answers, to poke a little fun at what he views as one of the most successful ongoing schemes in the world. 

So when a young, pretty woman sits him down, no outrageous hanbok and no absurdly dramatic hand gestures, he stands up and grabs her wrist, dragging her to the bathroom. 

“What are we doing here?”

Taehyung slams the door shut and points a finger up in the air, signaling that he needs a moment. He takes this time to splash some water onto his face, rubbing his hands over his eyes a little more than necessary.

“Why don’t you tell me, Miss Fortune Teller? You should know, right? You see the future and all that?”

[axxiom]

pretty petals and paroxysm

@boksoon-ah​

Taehyung is ashamed to admit it takes more muscle than he thought to effectively lug a 100l garbage bag full of dead flowers--not that he had thought much about it in the first place, but at least his arms feel frozen enough to keep the bag hoisted in his grip. The frigid wind is biting at his cheeks, and he ducks his chin into the long collar of his coat, seeking solace in the warmth of his own breath like it might counteract the chill climbing through his body.

He sighs in relief at the sight of his destination. Flower shops always look pretty on the inside and out, he thinks to himself. Much more pretty than humans could ever be. 

With a grunt, he swings the garbage bag around behind him, fists gripping the tied top so he can carry it over his shoulder. “Put your back into it, Taehyung-ah,” he mutters to himself. “Come on, don’t be a baby.” He stumbles as the bag hits his back and sends him forward a few steps, and he clears his throat before walking on like nothing happened. If anyone saw his blunder, he would definitely deny it. 

Stepping into the shop--stopping only briefly when the bag gets stuck in the doorway--, he heaves a few victorious breaths before letting the bag drop to the ground, hands finding his hips like he’s the king of the throne. 

“Ah, Boksoonie, glad you’re here!” He regards the florist like they’re old friends, waving a hand erratically. It’s a step too far, but Taehyung has always been trying to win a race no one else seems to be part of. Without another word, he turns and tears into the bag, ripping it open without any rhyme or reason. He grabs two sides tightly before spinning around, letting dead flowers and their crushed pieces fly out of the bag.

[axxiom]

raspblairy:

If there’s anything that’ll catch Blair’s eye, it’s money. So the moment he catches sight of the Rolex, his attitude makes a 360, a soft grin replacing his usual resting bitch face. “I honestly can’t. But I can’t imagine a cafeteria either… ew. I always went home to have my maid make lunch. If I ate at all.”  “Oh, yeah?” He raises a brow, leaning in challengingly. “And I suppose you’ll tell me that watch is all yours too, huh? Something’s not adding up here. Did you steal it? Save some old man’s life?”

Taehyung’s boxy grin only widens at the other’s comment about cafeterias. Nothing short of amused, he places a hand on his hip and uses his other hand for a grandiose gesture. “Oh, of course! What else are maids good for?” He brings his hand in, fingers pressing against his forehead in mock distress. “The horror... School lunches.” 

He lets his hand drop, shortening the gap between their faces by leaning in close enough for their noses to almost touch. “It’s all mine, Prince.” He leans back again, tapping his finger against the clock face. “Paid for by yours truly. Not that it matters much, anyway.” He turns and takes a step, lifting a hand and wagging a finger as a signal for the other to follow. “I’m about to have lunch at The Lounge. Would be a shame to eat alone.”

[axxiom]

@raspblairy​

“No.” Blair gives the stranger a nice and judgmental once-over, nose wrinkling at the sight of the dirty clothing. “It was definitely a long shot. Everyone at my prep school wore designer. But you’re right about your face. I used to know someone with the same nose. Did you go to Dr. Namyu?” He tilts his head to the side and scrunches up his face. He’s determined to find a connection here, whether there already is one or if he has to make one himself.

“A long shot?” Taehyung eyes the other with the same scrutinizing look before breaking out into an amused smile. His brow quirks upwards, arms stretching out so his sleeve inches up to reveal his Rolex Datejust 41, taking extra care to make sure it’s plenty visible. “Definitely a long shot. My high school didn’t even have a cafeteria. Can you imagine?” 

“HA!” He covers his mouth just a second too late, this time showing off his watch a little less than humbly. His eyes crinkle with amusement, and he shimmies his shoulders teasingly. “This nose is all me. Hashtag, BLESSED. Booyah.” 

[axxiom]

You look familiar. Did you study abroad?

Taehyung’s head whips around, legs spinning him in circles as if he can’t find where the voice is coming from. He gets dizzy faster than he’d like to admit and lets out an airy laugh, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks at the stranger. “Can’t say I did. Do I look that fancy to you?” His tattered clothing looks like it hasn’t been washed in a week, rumpled and stained here and there. “I’d say I have one of those familiar faces, but that’d be a total lie. This baby is one of a kind.” He swipes a finger under his nose habitually, grin plastered on his face. 

[axxiom]

fingertips graze along the wall, roughing up the soft pads that are used to keyboards and printed graphs. pencil wood is the roughest thing he’s felt in ages, and the new texture makes his skin hurt—and it’s welcome. a scream rips through his throat, tearing past the burns of alcohol and cigarettes that are fresh in his lungs. he’s so fucking sick of this.

he’s sick of hiding everything without a reason.

he picks up the pieces of himself like a child collecting fallen leaves, wants to gather them into a pile and jump in head first, wants to bury himself under a shield of everything he is.

but he doesn’t know who he is anymore.

tears are streaming down his face, and he can’t recall when he started crying in the first place. he crumbles into the wall next to him, abandoned alleyway giving him at least a bit of peace, a little hiding spot from the big city he always dreamed of but never found a place in. cheek pressed against the wall, hands gripped as if he can mold a flat surface into something whole and unending… the wall, his pieces, the sticky summer air that makes his hair cling to his face like love clinging to a spring that already passed.

it all hurts.

he laughs. his chest caves, lungs reaching for so much air that he just can’t get enough, laughs so hard that he think he might be sick. he laughs hard enough to forget why he’s laughing in the first place—or maybe he never even knew. he laughs so hard that he can’t tell if he’s laughing or crying anymore—or maybe it’s a mix of both.

or maybe—

maybe he doesn’t know the difference.

[talkatively-blog]

( * @axxiom liked this for a starter ! )

[axxiom]

         ’ Taehyung—  EARTH TO TAEHYUNG!           You look liable to fall asleep any moment           now, are you feelin’ alright? ‘

sleepy smile spread across his lips, taehyung lolls his head to the side and glances at jiseok while waggling his brows. he lets out an amused sigh, half laughing and half breathing--which is a miracle at this point--, and his breath reeks of alcohol. “i feel great, jiseok-ah,” he slurs, indicative of just how many drinks he’s had. “i feel... i feel so...” 

he leans forward, forehead nearly meeting his knees, but he suddenly shoots upright with a hiccup. “i feel like i’m on top of the world,” he finishes, arm pumping upwards into the air. the pathetic display would be comical if only he could keep himself from swaying even while sitting. “don’t you?!”

[leetaeile-deactivated20160822]

SEND ‘🔺’ + A COLOR FOR A COLOR BOARD OF OUR MUSES @axxiom + steel blue!

[crzvsidah-deactivated20161102]

          Yeji could’ve easily slipped her hand from Taehyung’s, but his actions were too playful to cut off early, by now expecting the other to tug her to the taxi. A sweet smile spread across her lips as Taehyung indicated for her to sit first, climbing into the taxi and scooting over for him to get in as well. ❛ Even opening doors for me, wow, I feel so flattered. ❜ However, before she could even ask about the restaurant Taehyung mentioned, she noticed his lack of seatbelt, having clicked herself in the moment she sat down. ❛ How am I going to get that free meal if you’re dead ? ❜ She didn’t even ask, reaching around to pull the seatbelt over him, clicking him in while dodging his elbow. ❛ Now, I’m ready. ❜

[axxiom]

he all but rolls his eyes when he’s buckled in, putting on a dramatic display for the sake of yeji’s amusement. “come on, mom. who wears seatbelts these days?” he smirks at the taxi driver’s chuckle and shimmies in his seat, trying to get comfortable with the new feeling of being strapped down. he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy yeji’s boldness. “anyway, are you ready to eat your heart out?” 

small talk is nothing new to taehyung. he’s always been good at keeping light chitter chatter going when there’s not much else to do. i spy games and guess what number i’m thinking of are just a few ways he likes to entertain himself and others during car rides. but there’s hardly time for a second round when the taxi pulls over, driver clicking the fare button that indicates their ride is over. 

taking out a few small bills, he hands them to the driver before trying to hop out, letting out a strangled choke as he’s forced back by the seatbelt. “damn it, your whole plot was to kill me by seatbelt, wasn’t it? smart thinking, yeji. they’d never suspect it was your intent to kill me, trying to keep me safe and all. good cover up.” he unhooks the seatbelt before climbing out of the car, reaching a hand back in to offer it to her. 

[strctvre-deactivated20161003]

continued for @axxiom !

[axxiom]

terra wasnt exactly sure what the male had dropped along the way but with how the object rolled about and based on how shiny it was, the architect figured it was something of importance so she quickly shoot him a warning call for it before she even had time to walk over to pick it up.

once she had the object in her hands, her eyes gave it a quick scan before walking rather quickly to the male who seemed to have panicked once he saw what was in her possession. it looked like a badge, definitely a badge. 

“here, you dropped it. i think it’s really important.” she says, and with that, handed back what was in her hand.

without hesitation, he snatches the object out of her hand and stuffs it in his front pocket, letting out a sigh he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in. he clears his throat, confidently albeit awkwardly reaching out to touch her hand in attempt to sooth the abruptness of his grab. he hadn’t meant to be so rough, but the whole ordeal had him nervous. 

“thanks,” he says calmly, eyes crinkling in a calm but warm smile. he pulls his hand back, letting his fingers ghost over the object through his pocket just to be sure that--yes--it is still there, and--no--it hasn’t fallen out again. “sorry about that, i didn’t mean to snag it so fast. it’s just really important. 

[kindvongift-blog]

his brows furrowed when the other mentioned tequila, face slightly distorting at the idea of downing that horrid excuse for alcohol. he’s never drank brandy like that before, only ever knew how to drink it in shots. “i ain’t no party boy then,” he snorted, refilling his shot glass and handing it over to the boy. “one shot, one pop for the bartender.” he joked, indecently gesturing to his mouth before reaching over and grabbing another glass.

gavin’s third drink came just in time, and now it’s a mojito with more tequila than anything else. was this revenge? he was pretty sure he gave the barkeep a decent night and he gets something like this for a drink. then again, lime and mint makes everything better.

“how is it? want another one?” he asks, already filling up his own cup and shooting the barkeep a wink and a kiss before downing it. “i’ve only ever drank brandy in shots. want to try whiskey next?” he chided, already reaching over and grabbing the nearest drink–it was canterbury cream, it really shouldn’t count as alcohol–and placing it on their little part of the counter.

[axxiom]

he copies the other’s actions, taking the brandy like a shot. it’s rough on his throat, burning all the way down in a way he hasn’t experienced before. no--brandy is not something he enjoys gulped straight down. he raises a hand to his mouth, lets out a little cough and hitch of breath that fills his lungs with what feels like straight ethanol. his other hand wraps around his beer, bringing it to his lips hastily as he takes a few mouthfuls of it to quell the strong taste.

he lowers his glass slowly, eyes bugging out as if he’s shocked into silence, and he clears his throat before he says in a strained voice, “yeah, no thanks. not for me. i can sip that shit, but can’t drink it straight.” he’d be foolish to try to play it cool when he can barely get his voice to work properly. he glances at the other at the mention of whiskey, brows lofting curiously. “now that, i’ll have. but i’m not going to down that, dude. i’ll take it slow.” 

he leans back in the chair again, uncomfortable with its small design to fit the american bar aesthetic but sturdy enough to handle the weight his back bears, and he lets out a relieved sigh. “man, taking it like that really warms you up, though. lets out some tension real quick.” a goofy grin forms on his lips, and he lifts a hand to rub his heated cheek--curse his genes for giving him the asian glow.

“where’s that name from, anyway? gavin, huh?”