#mgsunmi

[mgjaemin-blog]

i chlorofeel you.

@mgsunmi​.

The sweltering heat simmers into a cooler summer evening, and Jaemin, of course, being the youngest of the Ryu brothers, is put on duty to rake up the leaves that had happened to fall from the several maples in their backyard, set up the lights, take the covers off of the patio furniture, arrange the chairs and tables the same way they’d set it up multiple summers ago, dry the dishes, set the table—the list goes on and on and on. All those chores are bad enough, but the sweet aroma of the beef searing on the grill is actual torture, and Jaemin’s not sure how long he’d last before his body turns against itself and happily begins to digest itself from the inside out. (He knows it doesn’t work that way, but he’d be more motivated to finishing if he pretends that it does. His hard work will be paid off in bulgogi, he insists.)

He hears a few guests make their way into the house, sparing a glance in their direction as he tugs along a bag packed with leaves, only to—with grace—crash right into a maple tree and further allow said bag to fly out of his grasp.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath as he pinches at his nose, as if doing so would allow the pain to subside more quickly. Then he’s grumbling, reluctantly reaching for the rake once more to gather the array of leaves that had fallen from the bag as he shakes his head in utter disbelief.

“Unbe-leaf-able.”

[mgraymond-blog]

age of exploration.

consumerism.

the modernized, day to day movement of an economic theory, nevertheless, that clings to the interest of the customer. and as always, might they say that they are, ‘always right’. today, it ranges in pounds of popping grease to bake, fry, and grill. it’s cheap and pinguid, easy to access for the people, one can get hooked from its convenience. the eatery is a place of open doors. it’s a widely known chain with catchy medleys and an iconic mascot that symbolizes the heart of the business's ill food production. he is unreceptive. he patiently stands in line among the others, who had presumably been just as empty as he was. consumerism holds the price of one’s hunger. his hunger, just like the woman to his left, now has an expense.

in the back of his throat is the barren aftertaste of an old afternoon’s cigarette. helps to curb the appetite, until he inhales the cooking oil and breaded chicken. ‘place an order here’ hangs over his head. in an untimely moment, he begins with the starter; ‘i’d like aー’. static resumes and there’s a figment in his unresponsiveness, his eyes wander from the menu place boards all mocking the same colors of white and red. finally settles for the day’s lunch special. the price rings, a millisecond in and he quietly pays all in plastic money: credit cards, not bills. so it’s all grand and useful that he doesn’t let his time dwindle off when he’s out the door, slouchy plastic bag in hand with steam gathering in his palms.

he’s ought to start his car before he meets two large garbage bins. recycling, actually, taking good notice of the color from each. ten minutes: the plastic bag is in the vehicle, front seat, and he’s managing to toss away futile conceptual books of the human body, its scientific classifications and other useless written productivity that has taken too much room up on his bookshelves.

@mgsunmi.

[jongin247]

the sharpest lives are the deadliest || past thread || sunmi + yeonwoo

When Yeonwoo first comes up the stairs, it takes him 2.4 seconds to realize something is very wrong, just from the initial glance-over of his little brother and the way he is standing. He has his hands in knots in front of himself and his eyebrows are pulled together and creased-- obviously a sign that he is scared and worried. At first Yeonwoo goes into Protective Older Brother Mode, about to ask him what's wrong, before then realizing himself what has gone wrong.

His little brother is not just scared, he's scared of him and with one quick look around, Yeonwoo figures out why. "You didn't!" he shouts as he sees his bedroom door open. A myriad of terrible things going wrong all spill into his head, all his experiments souring, all his engines failing, all his work gone to rot. "You got into my room?!" He might be about to strangle his little brother, but instead all he does is shove at him.

"Not me! I didn't do it!" the younger yells, already trying to get away, but Yeonwoo grips him by his collar and drags him to his bedroom, flinging him down onto the floor with all his 11-year-old might. "It wasn't me, it was Sunmi!"

"Who's that? Your stupid imaginary friend?! Shut up!" He grabs a pillow and starts beating the younger with it, knowing it won't cause a whole lot of damage but for now, until their parents come home, it'll have to do. Their older sister, who is supposed to be watching them, is too busy on her phone to notice the screaming from upstairs. "DON'T TOUCH MY ROOM! How many times do I have to tell you!"

When he's finally done and his little brother is sufficiently shaking and whimpering in the fetal position, Yeonwoo finally backs off, throws the pillow, and storms out the door and down the hall. "When mom and dad get back, I'm going to have them kick you out of the house!" He frowns at his door as he reaches it, his jaw set and his eyes dark. How in the hell had that broken? It's supposed to be voice-locked, but there must be something faulty with his calibrations-

His eyes widen and his posture snaps to attention as he sees a girl inside his bedroom. "Who are you?" He steps inside cautiously. "What are you doing here? Why did you break my lock?" He's mad but it only takes him half a second to get over it and decide there is something more pressing that he wants to know. "More importantly, how did you break my lock?"

@mgsunmi

[mgxharu-blog]

get out of my house ft sunmi.

@mgsunmi

“Who said I can’t drink? That is a complete bullshit.” 

Haru hates it when people say she can’t face a specific challenge, which in this situation, she is said to be bad at drinking alcohol. It’s not that she can’t drink but she chooses not to because that will have been easier to deal compared to the mess she will leave all around once she gets drunk. In most cases, she will just deny the false statement because she thinks she’s pretty good when it comes to alcohol but when they have been provoking her, Haru swears she can’t stay silent any longer. She gulps down one shot of vodka without any hesitation, leaving them in awe before they clap their hands in unison, encouraging her for another shot. Two, three, four, five and the list goes on until she gets to her eighth shot. “Haru, seriously stop drinking now.” Her girl friend nudges her in the elbow but Haru is probably completely drunk by now to even listen to her friend. Her cheeks have became flushed red as she stares at the female sitting next to her. 

“You're just jealous because I’m so good at this, that’s why you want me to stop.” She pauses for a second, only to take another shot. “Isn’t that right?” Her voice sounds a little too loud, gaining some attention from the other customers in the jazz club but then just continue on whatever their business is. “You’re drunk. C’mon, let’s go home before you get any worse.” She can barely lift her head at this rate but still she can hear her friend, only to shout back a response, “I don’t want to go home just yet!" Her friend knows words will not do anything so instead she drags Haru along out of the club before more mess could be made. Haru has started to be mute once she gets into the car and eventually dozing off while her friend drives her home. Upon arriving at her apartment complex, her friend wakes her up only to be shouted again in the face. “Are you embarrassed of me, huh?” One second she’s shouting, another second she gets quiet. “You’re seriously is the worst when you get drunk. Go upstairs and just sleep, will you?" She helps Haru to get out of the car before the latter insists on going on her own and so Haru makes her way to what she thinks is her house. 

“Why the hell I can’t get my password right— shit.” She lets out a sigh of defeat, running her fingers through her hair before banging on the door. 

“Open this door before I break it, I’m warning you.” Haru never knows what she is saying when she’s drunk, all that she knows is that she means every words that she says. Frustrated that she still can’t get inside her house, she slams her hand harder on the door in hopes whoever inside would rescue her from this cold night.