#; thread ft. hans

[tareknaz]

@hstarke

"I didn't take you for a Swiftie or whatever it is the kids call it." Tarek jokes in a deadpan as he approaches Hans, appraising his costume with a crooked smile. For his own part, Tarek isn't technically in costume. His white t-shirt under a leather jacket is pretty typical for him, but as soon as he told someone he wasn't in costume when asked, the other person had berated him for his lack of 'holiday spirit,' so now he's just saying he's Danny Zuko when asked. He takes a measured sip of his drink before teasing, "Wish I would've gotten the memo, I would've gone as the Eagles Kelce brother."

[okshu]

—ㅤ⠀ 峠ㅤ⠀ 𝗐͟𝗐͟𝗐﹕﹙ZB1 FIC RECS﹚

all fics of zb1 that me and @fairyofmangoes read and swooned over at the dead of the night. the authors are really talented too so make sure to check out their other works too.

▨ LEGEND ㄑ f - fluff, a - angst, s - smut

성한빈 ─── SUNG HANBIN

be careful, don't fall by @haesunflower [f] [uni AU, clumsy reader and student nurse hanbin; 0.7k]

a night in monaco [ one . two ] by @ohsunnyboy [f] [fake dating, flirting, one bed trope, lazy kisses]

to breathe in your life by @zhng96 [f] [comfort fic, insecure!reader]

sitting in traffic by @loserlvrss [a,f]

hanbin and non-sexual dominance by @zbis [f]

forget? you? by @hariboz [a]

.

김지웅 ─── KIM JIWOONG

french press by @zerobaselove [s] [jealous jiwoong; 1.2k]

cuteness aggression by @haecien [f] [boyfriend texts with jiwong]

a morning to remember by @taerrrrrae [f]

winter confessions by @taerrrrrae [f]

.

章昊 ─── ZHANG HAO

a perfect fit by @zerobaselove [f] [campus crush! zhang hao x reader; 3.4k]

to chase a dream by @ohsunnyboy [f] [musician au, rivals, makeouts and happy endings]

one day only by @cinnajun [f] [established relationship; 1.3k]

drunk of you by @kkongdakz [a] [rivals to somewhat lovers, suggestive; 2.3k]

dollification by @amoremainslayer [s]

sir oblivious by @sxmmerberries [f] [textfic]

.

석매튜 ─── SEOK MATTHEW

coloumb's law by @seoktized [s] [ft. jake from enhypen, college au; 3.4k]

airpods by @iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin [s] [stepcest; 2k]

feel good by @loserlvrss [s] [soft smut]

show me how to use that pretty mouth of yours by @aswaki [s] [oral fixation; 2.2k]

mile high club privilege by @aswaki [s] [stewardess/flight attendant reader, strangers themed; 1.8k]

matthew flashfic this and this by @aswaki [s]

semi public sex by @528-hotline [s]

.

김태래 ─── KIM TAERAE

taedros taedros [ one . two . three ] by @iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin [s] [bsf taerae]

giving it a chance by @haesunflower [a] [not super angsty, established long term relationship]

keep it quiet by @cinnajun [f, sugg] [best friend’s brother!au x reader; 3.6k]

this loser by @kkongdakz [f]

a summ(lov)er song by @kkongdakz [f]

.

沈泉锐 ─── SHEN QUANRUI

against everything by @ohsunnyboy [f] [royalty!au, arranged marriages, sword fights and honour]

cherry chapstick by @loserlvrss [sugg]

sunlight by @kkongdakz [f]

wooden block tower by @kkongdakz [a]

.

김규빈 ─── KIM GYUVIN

7:34 pm by @zhng96 [f] [blurb]

sunny days by @zhng96 [f] [3.1k]

new year's kiss by @hariboz [f] [friends to lovers; 1.6k]

only one by @loserlvrss [f] [established relationship; 1k]

battery recharge by @kkongdakz [f]

kiss it better by @kkongdakz [f]

world's cutest couple by @cinnajun [fake angst]

pool sex by @carmesi-butterfly [s]

birthday much? by @arafilez [f] [drabble; 0.3k]

you kissed him and ran away by @sxmmerberries [f] [text imagine, bsf!gyuvin]

.

박건욱 ─── PARK GUNWOOK

why are you ignoring me by @slytherinshua [f]

one bed by @kkongdakz [f] [enemies to somewhat lovers; 1k]

consequences by @lovepookie [f, a]

.

한유진 ─── HAN YUJIN

a spark of light by @ohsunnyboy [f] [bestfriends, homework, pining away and gaming]

love lock by @trsrina [f]

mario cart by @trsrina [f]

2a.m. crisis by @slytherinshua [f, sickfic]

side dishes by @gyubaseone [f]

everything is okay by @taeraemisu [f]

7:39 pm by @itsactuallylina [f]

red thread of fate by @carmesi-butterfly [f]

.

제로베이스원 ─── OT9 / POLY

zb1 top 3 kinks by @melobin [s] [not including gunwook & yujin]

cute things zb1 do as you bf by @tzuberry [f] [maknae line hcs]

she's busy bro by @haesunflower [f] [text imagines, yujin not included]

cuddling with zb1 by @cinnajun [f] [headcannons, yujin not inc]

this love is small by @taeiun [f] [some of the little things that they do in your relationship, yujin not inc]

zb1 as love tropes by @tzuberry [f] [headcannons, maknae line]

sweet venom by @taeiun [f] [headcannons, pulling them by the collar and kissing, 02z + 04z + gw]

zb1 as your boyfriends by @cinnajun [f] [hcs, yujin not incl]

zb1 as taylor swift songs by @zhng96 [f] [blurbs]

calling your bsf "babe" by @zhng96 [f] [text imagines]

why him by @hariboz [f] [text imagines, you ask for another member's pc]

why didn't you kiss me by @hariboz [f] [text imagines]

favourite places to kiss by @loserlvrss [f] [blurb, gw + yj not incl]

is this mine? by @kkongdakz [f] [reaction, when you wear their clothes]

we're so cliché by @kkongdakz [f] [zb1 as love tropes]

kiss me by @kkongdakz [sugg] [making out with hyung line]

you being sleep deprived/sleep drunk by @sxmmerberries [f] [maknae line + taerae, text imagines]

no more kisses by @faithst [f] [ot8, hcs, s/o being shy after every kiss]

copyright to respective authors, don't forget to reblog their works ^^ okshu + @fairyofmangoes

[vilisisms]

"well, probably more than just your family, but i guess i can understand why someone might worry about that." her words came from behind an open book, the hard cover lowers to look up at the woman. "got a dark past you're running from?"

❝ ⸻ with the past coming back do you think ALL of the past came back here ? ❞ feyrah wondered . ❝ people who were once dead ... like family ? ❞ It would only mean she had to prepare herself if her family came back .

[leesolbeesol]

LIGHTWEIGHT

univeristy!au taesan x fem!reader (ft. the rest of bonedo!)

SUMMARY: Meeting Taesan at a basement party doesn't go as planned, what happens when you can't get rid of him? Do you even want to?

GENRE: fluff, slightly suggestive in one chapter, university!au (mentions of fraternities, classes, lectures, dorms, etc.) WARNINGS: Taesan gets punched, he doesn't deserve it but everything is okay | swearing | mentions of moaning but it doesn't get too crazy, reader makes fun of Taesan for it | fem!reader | heavy mentions of alcohol in the first chapter | EXCESSIVE flirting | ends with a confession!! NOTES: I have never been to a frat party. I have never participated in Greek life. I do not drink for personal reasons. I have never dated Han Dongmin (unfortunately). In other words, this is likely very unrealistic because my information comes from speculation, reddit threads, and other fanfics on tumblr dot com. This was so fun to write WC: 16.2k, divided into 6 "chapters" of varying length

RIDE OR DIE

You shift on your twin bed and feel the crinkly sheets shifting under your weight. You glance at the egg-shaped off-white clock on your wobbly, school-provided desk. The clock hits noon, your roommate will be home any minute and you’re hoping to power through the end of this report before then. Since you chose her as your roommate freshman year (because of maybe five instagram messages), Jen’s been your best friend, your literal ride or die, but she’s not the best body-doubling partner for cranking out assignments. When she’s with someone, she needs to provide commentary on whatever's going on, which is both a blessing and a curse. It’s a curse when it comes to being someone’s study partner.

The wooden door opens in an instant, and Jen’s frame appears in the doorway, flanked by about three bags. “Oh, dear roommate!” She greets you in song. She lets the bags fall from her arms with a thunk on the floor, and a couple papers scatter on the floor out of one of many of her partially-zipped backpacks. She marches towards you, waving her phone in your face.  “Look at this! One of our sisters invited us to a party Sigma Chi’s is throwing this evening!” She says excitedly before steadying her gaze on you. You back up as a carefully manicured finger stretches out towards your face. “We need to go.” She always refers to her sorority sisters as your (plural) sisters, which you think is sweet. It’s her way of including you. You figure that, at some point, she decided ‘my sisters this, my sisters that’ got a little bit exclusionary.

“No.” You answer her and turn back to your computer, entering the link for a hopefully-penultimate citation. This is the one thing you’re maybe not so “ride-or-die” about with Jen. You like parties, sure, but you aren't going to give up a good night’s sleep (without midterms, and all) so easily.

“What do you mean? It’s going to be so much fun!” She whines. “We just finished our midterms, we need to celebrate! What could you be even working on anyway?”

“There’s a presentation after midterms for some fucking reason, I don’t know. Plus, it's a totally bad idea to bring me. Nothing good happens at frat parties.” You tell her, pointedly. You do this dance with her semi-frequently: she invites you, you say no, she asks why, you say why, she asks again, you (sometimes) give in. You’ve got this waltz down to a science.

“Can you finish it later? Come on, please? You skipped out on the last three.” She looks at you with pleading eyes, ignoring your advice. You wonder if this was how she got everyone to do her bidding; pouting at them with her big brown eyes. You eye her suspiciously. It was true: you had denied her invitation to the last three events and probably the last three hosted by Sigma… what was it? Sigma Key? Whatever. You don’t particularly like most frat boys. In your experience, they tend to be on the annoying side… the very annoying side. The avoid-at-all-costs side.

You look at her as a smile grows on your face, “Will you do my laundry for a week when we get back from break?” At this point, you were considering going anyway, but you were going to try and milk it.

“And I’ll take out the trash.” She smiles back. Now… maybe hanging out in a dingy basement flanked by drunk college kids doesn’t sound that bad, right?

“Promise?”

She raises her hand as if to be sworn in to lawyerhood—or whatever they call it. “I, your loving, adoring roommate, solemnly swear to do your laundry and take out the trash for two weeks when we get back from break.” You suppress a laugh.

“What time is the party?” Satisfied, you surrender, albeit happily. She does manual labor for a couple weeks and you only have to go with her for a couple hours? Sounds like a dream.

“11pm.”

BUDDING ALCOHOLIC

The faint taste of tequila on your lips is your only reminder of your promise not to get the fuck out of dodge. If you hadn’t pregamed this party, you would have been regretting coming right about now, even if it means two weeks worth of chores being eliminated from your future. The music is noise-complaint worthy and not that good, even as far as frat music tends to go. Your best guess for timing is that it’s about midnight, and a couple of your peers are already drunk by the looks of it, making out by the window and stumbling on the grass out front. It already smells like vomit as you walk through the front door. To be fair, you’ve never been to a frat house in the daytime, so maybe the smell of vomit is just a permanent feature.

“You’re the best! Thanks for coming!” She swings an arm around you, at least a little tipsy. You shift in your Jen-approved outfit: a (very) tight black tank top, light-wash jeans, and a pair of Jen-borrowed, frat-designated, almost-destroyed sneakers. You’ve gathered from your brief excursions into the world of Greek life that this is the frat uniform.

“Hey, Jen-fer!” A guy, clearly a brother, comes up to the two of you with a cheeky smile on his face. It seems like every time someone greets Jen, she has a new nickname. Or maybe he’s just drunk and slurring his words. The guy looks like “people call me Chad but you can call me tonight” personified in his khaki shorts and impressively only slightly wrinkled t-shirt, sporting your school’s mascot with ‘VARSITY BASEBALL’ across it in loud, chunky lettering. “Who’s this?” He inquires as a girl swings her arm around his neck. The smile never leaves his face as he leans down to peck her. You watch as the girl and Jen have some sort of telepathic conversation by exchanging big smiles and little waves — she’s a sister, maybe? You really only know the girls that Jen’s closest to: Madelin (spelled like mandolin), Avery (who you thought was a boy for a couple months because you only know one other Avery, a boy), Elliann (whose name you remember how to spell only because you wrote Ellyanne once and you got a talking-to), and Gene (whose contact you have saved as the jeans emoji).

“Ugh, Jay! She’s my roommate, I told you about her.” You smile weakly as she points her attention towards you, “this is Jay. You remember Jay, right? From Econ?”

“Yeah… from Econ.” You mumble something unconvincing because you very much do not remember Jay from Econ. There are about a million Jay’s at this school. There’s Jason’s and James’s and Jongseong’s and Joshua’s and Julian’s who all go by Jay. Hell, there’s even a Jachariah (pronounced exactly like Zachariah but substitute the Z) who goes by Jay in your English Comp class. You think it would make sense to go by Jack (Like Zack) because there are less Jack’s, somehow, but whatever. When you return from zoning out, Jen starts talking at you. Some people are touchy drunks, some people are sad drunks, but Jen is a very, very talkative drunk. To be honest, she’s a talkative sober too.

She asks you to choose between the two drinks in her outstretched hands, naming both, though you can’t identify the taste or ingredients either, even with the name provided. Both looked like water.

Fuck it, what’s the difference? “Um, that one.” You say, pointing to the red cup in her right hand.

“Great! Are you okay on your own? I’m going to talk to Ellen!” She smiles big. Who’s Ellen? You have no idea. “Oh, hey! Meet my friend —hic! This is Tay!” She waves to someone behind you, and beckons them over with a finger. Great, now you have a Tae to keep track of.  Her goodbye is sonorous, “Bye bye!” 

“Bye, Jen-fer.” You tease her with the drawling nickname, but she doesn’t seem to notice as she waltzes off. You break into a slow smile as you see her leave. If you could remember what feeling sober is like, you would know by the drowsiness alone you’re a little more than tipsy. If Jen is a talkative drunk, you’re a sleepy drunk. You take a big swig of the red cup and it burns as it goes down, making you cough instinctively to get rid of the sensation. After taking a moment to compose, you shotgun the whole cup. Aside from the burning, you’re left with the distinctive aftertaste of artificial sweeteners sticking to your throat. 

You back up a little, and bump right into a wall. You curse, thinking you probably looked stupid doing that… that is, before you nearly jump out of your skin when the wall puts a hand on your shoulder. Sufficiently scared, you jump right back to where you started like a tennis ball. 

In your inebriation, you're pretty sure it might be the worst mistake of your life to look at the wall when you land eyes on the definitely-not-plaster you bumped into. 

You realize that she was saying Tae, not Tay. Tae, though you know him as Taesan, is the name of a—kinda emo—guy in your World Literature class who you decided was cute one time when zoning out in a lecture and have been a little shy around ever since. Why is he here? A frat does not seem like his scene. Your drunk self agrees with your sober self on the former issue, however. He is cute—really cute. His hair is straight and black and his bangs fall just above his eyebrows. You were definitely catastrophizing, because bumping into Taesan is maybe the best thing you could have hoped for at this Greek-whatever party.

“Oh… it’s Taesan!” It doesn’t even cross your mind to suppress the giant grin that spreads across your face as you say his name as you sway. “Can I call you that instead of Tae? Too many ay’s around, I think.” You mumble, feeling as cloudy as ever.

He shrugs, “Sure, I mean, I call you by your full name, usually.” 

Mostly ignoring him, you continue, focusing on the way the edges of his lips curl like he’s suppressing a smile. Squinting at him, you monologue. “You’re cute. But you’re bad at…” You squint harder, circling your finger in front of his face as if to cast a spell. He looks a little confused with his straight eyebrows raised, but he doesn’t look scared—yet. If you were in your right mind, you would have been amazed and totally terrified that you hadn’t scared him off with the wiggly finger. Maybe the slipped compliment at the beginning helped build some rapport? “You’re bad at… analysis.” You decide on pinpointing a weakness of his. Now, his analysis is actually pretty good. Sure, he's not going to win any awards with it, but who is in an undergraduate World Literature class taught by a less-than-enthusiastic professor nearing retirement? The alcoholic fog is just a little much, anyway. Maybe you’re more of a lightweight than you care to admit. 

“I think my analysis is pretty good, actually.” He frowns, but doesn’t seem offended in the slightest. He’s always quiet in lecture, you’re surprised he hasn’t made a quick excuse to get away yet.

You part your lips as you squint harder and point up at his face again, grasping for words that don’t come all that easy to you. “You… should kiss me.” As the words fall out of your mouth, he seems to look around a little bit in surprise. To your luck, he still doesn’t run screaming.

It’s his turn to point a finger at himself and his cool, bad-boy act slips, “kiss—kiss me?” He stutters, going wide-eyed and glancing around like this is a big reality TV-style prank and there are cameramen waiting in the shadows of this sticky, stinky basement, itching to catch him off guard. Perhaps you’re subconsciously practicing rejection therapy. 

“Yeah… you should analyze kissing me.” You attempt a smile as you try to keep your eyes open. The music is pounding in your ears as you stare into the gap between him and the wall to his left.

Still dumbfounded, he tries to find words, now staring at you staring off into space, “well, uh… you… that would be cool, but… I don’t… I don’t think you actually want to kiss me. You smell like tequila.” The alcohol is definitely taking its toll on you, evidenced by the way you lean forward and slump onto the boy in front of you, closing your eyes. His words don’t even go in one ear and out the other, they go over your head entirely. You could feel his body heat even through his thick navy tee. You hear his heartbeat and—you’re no medical student—it’s loud. With your eyes closed, you hear the DJ switch the song to something with less bass and you feel a warm hand come to your shoulder blade, patting it awkwardly. You hear an attempt at words coming from his vocal chords, but you hear nothing identifiable as human language. Just a few um’s and maybe an uh.

“Hey, Tae!” You hear Jen approach behind you, calling out to the boy who you’ve designated as your new mattress. You open your eyes for a second, and you’re kindly greeted with a view of his chest. Slowly analyzing your field of vision (which includes a fuzzy wall and his shirt), you blink once, twice, and then, the third time you close them, they stay closed. As fast as that, you’re gone: disappeared, asleep.

Before you can open your eyes again, you’re assaulted by a pounding headache. You haven’t felt a headache like this since the first time you got drunk with Jen. You’d assumed you’d learned your lesson. This time, it’s not a good thing that you exceeded your own expectations.

You open your eyes and see a rather unwelcome sight of Jen who has her hands on your shoulders, shaking you. It’s certainly not helping your headache. As you come to consciousness, you become aware of the damp, suffocating sweat that clings to your body and the aching that you feel in each and every of your muscles and joints. You can’t even lift a finger.

“Hey. Wake up! Don’t worry, you’re not dying. It’s just a hangover.” She consoles you, but she doesn’t stop pushing you, however. “You drank way too much.” She laughs, drawing out her words and turning her head to the side as her hair falls in front of her face.

You muster your words, “what?” Your voice is grainy and low. You feel like pure, unadulterated hell. The pounding in your head doesn’t stop, it just migrates from one side to the other. Back to left to front to right and back again like a cue ball bouncing around the table.

“You… are… hung… over.” She says like she's trying to teach a baby to say mama. You groan and roll over, freeing yourself from her manicured hands and burying your head in your sheets. As you roll over, you feel the familiar and deeply uncomfortable scratch of the seam of your jeans. You were still wearing the clothes you wore to the party, hooray! “And,” she continues, “you’re going to tell me why Han Taesan is at our door.” Her voice sounds half like she’s scolding you and half like she’s waiting for you to spill. Processing this information, you scrunch your eyes and groan again.

“He’s not.” You deny with a murmur despite the knocking that you hear on the door. The person at the door, reportedly Taesan, knocks one, two, three times.

“He is. He wants to know how you are… tell me what happened between you two!” She urges.

“You’re lying. He is not at the door.” Maybe if you say it enough he’ll go away. Manifesting, you know? You want to know nothing about why he’s here. The party last night was a blur. You remember drinking, seeing a couple familiar faces, bumping into Taesan and then it’s dark and you wake up in your bed with Jen shaking you.

“He is.” She says solemnly. She cocks her head and continues in a more sympathetic tone, “do you want me to tell him to go away?” She asks.

“Yes.” Regardless of whether you want to see him, specifically, you don’t want to see anyone at all. You’re still in your clothes from last night, your whole body hurts, you feel like total crap, and you doubt you showered last night. You do not want to see Han Taesan, and that’s final.

“Yes, ma’am.” She says and jumps off the tall bed. Through half-lidded eyes, you see her crack the door and exchange words with the visitor. You confirm it’s Taesan when his stupid face appears in the crack. Almost involuntarily you close your eyes. As the saying goes, out of sight, out of mind. Even with a foggy mind and a throbbing headache, you know nothing good can come out of talking to him, or even seeing him, when you’re so wildly hungover. You feel like a ghost haunting your body. You hear the door shut, and you open your eyes to see Jen shimmying over to you with her eyebrows raised and a disbelieving smile across her face. You close your eyes again, you do not want to see or hear what she has to offer unless it’s an ibuprofen.

“I can’t believe he came to check up on you! Isn’t that sweet? I have no idea what was happening with you two before I got there, but he was so cute about you. He looked so nervous! It’s not like him at all.” You can practically hear her dancing around in excitement. “Your love life never goes anywhere, this is so exciting!” You grumble in protest at her jab at you. She’s been begging to let her set you up with someone, but the only people she knows are frat bros and sorority girls, neither of which are your type, usually. Is Taesan part of a frat? Doesn’t seem like him.

“Jen… advil… please.” You reach out for her with a weak hand.

“You’re not dying.” She assures you, but dutifully returns to your bedside with two little red pills, a bottle of water, and a bag of goldfish. This is how Jen is, you’ve learned; poking fun at you while still looking out for you. “Come on, take them.” She says, holding out the pills. “You’re lucky it’s a Saturday. For a hangover, you need water, food, and sleep.” She recites. Maybe hangover care is a required class for members of the sorority known for the most functions.

“Thanks…” You mutter, bringing a weak hand to your still pounding forehead. “What happened?” You ask. It might help to know what you’re up against in terms of embarrassment.

“Before I got there? No idea. After I got there? Well, you were passed out,” she laughs, “I had no idea you could fall asleep that fast. He looked crazy confused, having you slung over him and all, you know? Anyway, he was dry sober, he just got there. I had the car, obviously, and so he offered to give you a ride back to the dorm in my car. Now, I went with you, of course. For one, I’m always going to come with you when you’re asleep and being taken care of by some man. Two, there’s no way I’m letting any man drive my car without serious supervision.” Now, this elicits a stifled laugh from you, after which you immediately wince in pain. Laughing isn’t good medicine for hangovers, apparently. “Anyway, he picked you up bridal-style, it was really cute, and brought you to our car, and then drove both of us home. I put you to bed, and he left after.” She states, "I wiped your drool, don’t worry.” She nudges you with an elbow.

“Ugh, Jen. Don’t joke with me right now.”

“No, seriously, you did drool. It’s one of, like, five reasons I’m never going to put you in a room with alcohol ever again.”

“I told you it was a bad idea to bring me.” You lament. You don’t like the idea of drooling in the vicinity of Taesan. And he carried you to the car? Seriously, not a high point for your ego. It’s not even about your germinal maybe-crush on him. “Give me some goldfish.”

“You always say that it’s a bad idea, but okay.” She hands you a handful and you shove it into your mouth. It doesn’t mix well with the morning-breath taste and somehow lingering tinge of alcohol. Your head is pounding and if the headache doesn’t kill you, the embarrassment might.

THE ILLUSION

Dr. Woo claps his hands together as the final undergrad enters the lecture hall. The long tables that act as desks proceed away from the central board in stairs. 

“Yeah. Big project coming up, right?” He says with a hint of fake enthusiasm. “It’s going to be a group project, if two people count as a group. Hooray.” A resounding groan emanates from the student body. Dr. Woo is visually unphased by this. “Despite the fact that choice is an illusion, you can pick your own partners. This is college. I don’t care.” He waves a hand dismissing any rebuttal, not that any was coming. Regardless of any other feelings about Dr. Woo, everyone knows he’s a great (read: easy) grader. “Anyway, go crazy. You all know the topic.”

Your heart drops as the room immediately erupts in chattering. Your circle was small at best, and you knew no one in World Lit except for… oh no. You feel a tap on your shoulder. Almost in slow motion, you turn around and see Taesan’s damned handsome face.

“Hey,” he says, very, very casually, “do you want to be my partner?” Oh, what the fuck.

“Um…” You furrow your eyebrows. It’s not that you don’t want to be partners with him, really. It’s just that you don’t want to recoil in embarrassment every time you work on a project worth 20% of your grade. 

He cocks his head to the side, “so?” You’re pretty sure his face could bring world peace. Have him try to convince a warlord to stop fighting by flashing a smile and they’d be a pacifist in under ten minutes.

You sigh, “yeah. Sure.” You try to smile, it doesn’t work that well. Fuck it, what’s the worst that could happen? Do it for the plot, right? Choosing to partner with him is definitely for the plot. You’re not entirely convinced that he’s pure in his intentions to partner with you; maybe this is part of a bigger frat boy scheme.

“My analysis is actually good, I swear.” He says as he pulls back the chair next to you to sit down. Is that a reference? To what? You are thoroughly confused, clearly remembering very little of that fateful night. He tucks his hands behind his head and leans back.

“What?” You laugh a little, if only out of awkwardness. 

He presses his lips together and they contort as if a laugh is threatening him. “Nevermind. It’s nothing, really.” He is utterly unconvincing when he lies. Maybe he couldn’t convince the warlord.

“Taesan, what?” Your arms cross as you lean back in your chair. Around you, there’s a buzz of new partnerships and dates being set to meet. You two, however, are alone in your own world. In your periphery, Dr. Woo is staring you down. You’re pretty sure he can sense when work isn’t getting done. You can’t tell if he’s just a salty old man or a teenager with a gossip itch trapped in an old professor’s body.

Taesan notices, “Dr. Woo is creeping me out. I’ll tell you in the hall.” He picks up one of your pens and hands it to you in a non subtle suggestion for you to pack up. 

You sling your backpack over one shoulder (despite how you’re told it’s bad for your back) and lead Taesan out of the lecture hall.

“So, are you partners with me just to make fun of me?” You probe him as he catches up to you. “I’m taking you to my dorm, by the way. We can get started on the project.” There’s a silent addition of ‘even if you’re being an asshole, I chose to be stuck with you for some reason’ when you give him a purposeful glance. Maybe Dr. Woo is right. Maybe choice is an illusion. He looks completely lost.

“No, no. It’s not like that, really. I didn't mean to make you feel bad, I just thought it was funny.” He turns around and shakes his head to punctuate his point. 

“Is it better if I don’t know what happened at the party?” One eyebrow raises and you stare him down with some weird level of confidence. Maybe knowing that he’s seen you drooling, drunk, and looking crazy makes you feel like you don’t have much else to lose.

“No, nothing bad happened. You were just drunk. It happens to the best of us.” He shrugs as you enter onto the green.

“Don’t drag this out, let me bite the bullet if I want to.”

He laughs a little, “alright. In summary, you backed into me, told me I was cute, told me my analysis sucks,” so that’s what that was about, “and told me I should kiss you and I told you that you were too drunk,” oh, what the fuck, “and then you fell asleep on me and Jennifer came over. I carried you to the car and drove both you and her home because she had a couple drinks and I had none. I checked up on you because I knew you were going to have one hell of a hangover.” Great, you’re stuck with this fucker you borderline harassed while blackout drunk.

“You were right. It was one hell of a hangover.” You grumble, looking at the floor to avoid any eye contact with him.

“Don’t be embarrassed. You’re not the first person to tell me I’m cute when they’re drunk.” He teases and you roll your eyes. In your heart, though, this is deeply, deeply embarrassing. The thought of what happened stings like a blade in your heart and in your mind. It’s not as bad as the hangover, but it’s pretty damn bad.

“Yeah, right. I was drunk, okay?” Your words are biting. “Why are you partners with me, then? I wasn’t that great the one time you met me.” Maybe you don’t want to know the answer, but the words are already out of your mouth. You scuff your heels as you walk, still avoiding contact with the one and only Han Taesan.

“You’re cute and you’re smart.” He shrugs and you break your rule of avoiding his eyes because now you’re staring at him in disbelief. “Plus, you’re great at keeping me humble.” He meets your eyes now and you’re immediately regretting thinking anything about the previous compliment meant anything at all.

“If you keep being a jerk, I’m going to keep you humble as hell.” You grumble.

“Sorry,” he frowns mildly, “the first part holds more weight.” And now, you’ve flipped. It does mean something… maybe. You face forward again to hide a smile that he totally catches anyways. You’ve made great time alongside Taesan, you’re almost to your dorm.

“Thanks?”

“My pleasure.” He postures. “Why were you there in the first place? No offense, but you don’t strike me as an alcoholic. An alcoholic can handle being drunk better than that.” It’s sort of a compliment, you guess.

“None taken, I don’t believe that being an alcoholic is in the cards for me.” You snort. “Jen dragged me there. I told her it was a bad idea, but she convinced me to go anyway by bribing me with doing my least favorite chores for a week or two.” You explain, crossing your arms and he laughs. “No offense, you don’t seem like you’re part of the frat nor do you seem like an alcoholic. So, what were you doing there?” You redirect. It’s true: he doesn’t seem like a brother nor a drinker.

“I lost a bet. Riwoo bet me that I couldn’t fit fifteen grapes in my mouth and I wanted to prove him wrong because, well, he’s Riwoo, but I lost the bet.” A laugh bubbles up from your chest imagining the situation. Not only did he try, but he tried and failed. “My punishment was either to go to a frat or to do mine and six of my roommates’ laundry for a semester. I picked the frat, obviously. I’ve lived with those guys for long enough to know that all of them stink like hell.” He adds, grimacing. “Plus, ‘doing laundry’ meant changing the sheets and picking up laundry, too.” He looks at you, pointedly.

“You’re lying, no way.” You laugh, partly with him and partly at him.

“You clearly haven’t met my roommates, this way?” His finger points to the building that you’re rooming in with Jen. You pray she’s not there or you’re going to be met with a litany of highly invasive questions.

You nod at his direction, “yeah, there are like seven thousand people here and I can recognize about thirty faces max. That’s like nothing-percent.”

“Good for me, then. I don’t think I’d be the first person you’d be calling cute if they were there with me.” The tone of his voice is light, but in his eyes you see that he fears it’s the truth. Huh, Taesan is just like the rest of us, who’da thunk?

“Where did your cool guy act go?” You tease, leading him up the stairs to your dorm, distinguished by the handmade felt pennants, spelling your’s and Jen’s names. “Drunk me wasn’t lying when she said you were cute, seriously.” You assure him. “Now, I just have to learn if your analysis is as bad as she said it was.” You push open the door with your back, mostly so you don’t have to face him after calling him cute to his face. Last week, you would have run away on the spot; Taesan has you acting like a bad ATM—all out of order.

ENTOURAGE

You hated to admit it, his analysis was great. By spending hours writing and rewriting scripts to memorize for your oral presentation, you watched Taesan connect dots you didn't even know were there and recall obscure details from lectures that happened to be integral to the coherence of your project. You can practically see the cogs turn in his head, the way he bites the inside of his lip when he’s really focused, the way his face lights up when he gets an idea, the way he slides his thin wire glasses up his straight nose with a knuckle when they slip down because he furrowed his eyebrows too much.

This is how you find yourself at four on a Wednesday afternoon, weeks after your first incidental meeting with him: admiring his work on your dorm floor.

“Damn, Taesan.” You still kept to calling him his full name instead of Tae, you felt like it meant something. “This is amazing, I would have never thought to connect those passages, we read that first book ages ago!” You shook your head, his analysis was that good. Maybe not award-winning, but definitely worth an A, even in your harshest grader’s class. He smirks as he laughs a little, taking off his glasses and stretching his hands up, grasping at nothing while trying to stretch his back. You two had been sitting for hours on the hard floor of your dorm room; you told him to sit on your chair, but he refused, demanding he sit next to you so that he can ‘see what you’re writing’ better.

“You brought up At the Bottom of the River in the first place.” He deflects your praise. You’ll gladly take the compliment even if you had no part in his discovery. As you shrug his deflection off, you feel his arm come down around your shoulder and you jump a little, not expecting the touch. Of course, his hand feels nice where it rests, but you’re still not quite used to the way Taesan evidently shows affection. The first time he pulled the classic ‘I’m-just-stretching-actually-I’m-putting-my-arm-around-you’ move, you didn’t expect it in the slightest. You had finished a part you were putting off and he moved to stretch, suddenly putting his arm around you and shaking you while cheering you on about your victory. The laugh you let out when that happened was something entirely unprecedented for you, you laughed until your stomach hurt and your eyes watered, and you couldn’t even pinpoint why.

“Yeah, sure.” You look at him, exaggerating your skepticism with your one raised eyebrow, his arm still around you.

“When’s Jen getting back? Do we have time to mess around or should I go before she starts pestering you?” He asks, half-joking as he tilts his head towards yours. Jen had taken a liking to him, if not too much of a liking to him… for you. Whenever you and Taesan were together and Jen spotted you, she made the least subtle comments possible telling you to get together, wiggling her eyebrows and full of exaggerated winks. It wasn’t surprising in the slightest. Hey, look at the position you two are in right now: foreheads so close they’re almost touching, alone in your dorm, with his arm wrapped around your shoulder. Still, you’ve gathered that’s just kind of how Taesan is with his friends. From what you’ve heard, he’s like that with everyone. It’s not unique to you.

“She said she’d be back at five, so…” you check the egg clock, “like, thirty minutes?” 

“Nice.” He purses his lips. “Are you nervous for the presentation? It’s tomorrow, you know?” Taesan has his sensitive moments, for sure. He sounds—he is—genuinely concerned about how you’re feeling about it, you can hear it in his voice. He’s not great at hiding things like that. Even when he’s making fun of you, it’s never malicious.

“I’m fine. I’m nervous, but it is a big presentation, after all. It’s nothing I can’t handle.” You tell him, flexing an arm to prove your point, though the action is inhibited by his arm still around you.

“Never doubted you for a second, Miss Independent. You can still be nervous though, it’s okay to be nervous.” 

“Are you nervous? You sound like you’re projecting.”

He exhales, “yeah, I’m nervous as hell.” He laughs a little after the admission, but it’s not a humorous one.

“Hey, text me if you get nervous before, right? Doesn’t help to keep it to yourself. And, no offense, but I think I’ll be better at commiserating with you than your roommates, however lovely they are.” 

He exhales. “Yeah, thanks.” He’s being surprisingly soft, and you can’t help but seize the opportunity to connect a little with the sensitive side of Taesan instead of the cool, nonchalant Taesan. From what you’ve gathered, his Nirvana-decorated headphones, monochrome black clothes, and his sullen resting face makes him less approachable to your peers.

“You’ll be fine. As you said to me when we were partnered, you’re cute and you’re smart. You’ve got it.” You tell him, leaning your head onto his shoulder. You wonder if he can feel your heart beating out of your chest. Can you feel someone’s heartbeat through their shoulder? Probably not, but the human body is full of surprises. One surprise is how hard you can see his pulse through his carotid artery, pulsing in his neck. Good God, this boy is going to get high blood pressure if his heart is always going a million miles an hour. “Tell me about writing music. I’m tired.” You tell him, closing your eyes. 

You’re brought back to what you were told about the first time you met him. This time, however, you falling asleep on him isn’t so much of a surprise. Your knowledge of composition contrasts Taesan’s, you know little more than the basics. Asking him to talk about it is an easy route to a one-sided conversation where you get to listen to him talk, which is always a good time. He gets so animated, it’s hilarious and adorable.

“Your wish is my command.” He laughs, and you feel the vibration against your head and he starts on a critically tangential spiel. 

Before you can get too comfortable leaning on Taesan listening to him talk about rhyme schemes, the door swings open. Jen walks in after opening the door with her signature slam. Why you haven’t gotten any complaints yet, you have no idea.

“Oh… my God.” You can practically hear her freeze in the doorway. Out of sight, out of mind, so you keep your eyes closed.

“Jen, no one’s dying.” You assure her, suddenly deeply uncomfortable, shifting on the floor.

“You’re right, no one’s dying. My heart is so happy, look at you!” She almost giggles.

“Is this a good time for me to go?” Taesan starts to ask the pivotal question that’s going to determine exactly how embarrassed you are going to be this afternoon.

“Yes—” “No—” You and Jen say in unison. You open your eyes just to glare at her, seeing her standing over you.

“No… I’m going to get to know my best friend’s… group project partner.” She winks very not-subtly at you. Taesan looks at you just as you look at him, and he shrugs. 

“The more the merrier, right?” He asks. The rhetorical question becomes immediately very literal as Jen continues.

“Oooh… I like the way he thinks, girl.” She says, pointing to you. “Taesan, invite your roommates over, too. We can have a party!” She’s almost clapping with how excited she is, rolling back on her heels.

Taesan lights up, “oh hell yeah! I’ll see who’s available.” Oh, Taesan. Always the extrovert.

You groan, but it’s futile to try and stop the scheming. How did this get so bad so fast? “No drinking.” You instruct them.

“Half of them can’t even drink legally yet, plus, do you seriously think I’m going to drink the night before our presentation? No way.” He assures you, and you groan again in hesitant acceptance.

“I’m never letting you drink again. Don’t worry about that.” She promises you quietly before switching back to hyped-up Jen mode. “Oh, this is so exciting! When can they get here?” She’s sitting cross-legged in front of you two now, rifling through contacts on her phone in its sparkly case.

“Well,” Taesan pauses, “If they’d answer my texts—” ding! Almost like he scripted it, he gets a notification. “And there we go. Turns out they’re just hanging out at our place, all of them are free. Do you want them here now?”

“Hell yeah, I do! We should watch a movie… what movie should we watch? Don’t tell me they like horror…” She pushes her eyebrows together in what sounds half like a threat and half like a plea.

“Yeah, not that I know of.”

“We should watch 10 Things I Hate About You.” You suggest.

And that’s how you got to be sitting in a circle on your room’s floor with Taesan, Jen, and every single one of Taesan’s five roommates. You’d only briefly met a couple of them in passing before. Right now, you’re even managing to not cut each others’ throats out while playing UNO! What an achievement!

“And the color is… wait for it!” Taesan’s roommate with the light brown, almost orange hair and rounder, blueish-green black glasses says, leaning around to intimidate the others with a giant smile on his face. Everyone erupts in laughter at him. You remember that this is Riwoo, the one who dared Taesan to stuff 15 grapes in his mouth in the first place. “Blue!” He announces.

Your last card was red. Damn it.

Jaehyun immediately slumps over, Sungho frowns, Leehan stares at the card deck and Woonhak stares, terrified, at Jen when she jumps up, screaming “Uno!” as she slams her blue five on the pile. Shouts resound from the boys around you. Taesan is laughing. 

As the room erupts around you, Taesan nudges you with his shoulder, showing you his card. His last color was red, too. “We’re both winners in my heart.” He tells you with a wink. What a sap. You push his face away with a hand, stifling a laugh as you feel a heat come to your cheeks. Your light push makes him dip away from you like the inflatable tube men outside gas stations.

“You’re so corny.” You tell him as you take in the scene unfolding around you. Inviting Taesan’s friends over was a great idea. Jen is yelling at Jaehyun, Jaehyun looks terrified. Woonhak and Sungho are yelling at Riwoo, Riwoo is laughing at them. Leehan is laughing at Riwoo laughing at Woonhak and Sungho.

Taesan catches you smiling at the camaraderie, “if people yelling at each other was all it took to make you smile, I’d have invited them over way earlier.”

“Taesan,” you laugh, “I don’t like schadenfreude. It’s nice to see Jen let loose sometimes. I don’t think she gets to argue with anyone very often.”

“If she wants anyone to argue with, I’m available.” He spreads his arms to punctuate his point. At this, you laugh even harder. As you look around again, you see everyone laughing and collapsing on the floor, except for Jen, who’s pretending to fume and sulk on her bed. You know her well enough to catch the smile that pulls at her lips.

“It’s like watching kids at the park.” You motion towards Taesan’s friends, who’ve clearly become very comfortable around you and Jen.

“This weird authenticity is kind of their whole M.O.” He smiles, very clearly adoring their antics. “Imagine having to do their laundry though. I’m glad I chose to go to the party instead.” He pretends to shiver which draws out a laugh from you.

“Yeah, if you had chosen to do their laundry you also wouldn’t have been able to see me drool on you when you carried me to the car.” You snort. You’ve made peace with your drunken night. After all, you’ve already lost your dignity and he’s still hanging around.

“It was so cute though!” He contests and you roll your eyes at him. You have sworn up and down that he doesn’t like you like… that. Even if he did like you, you’re pretty sure no one likes anyone else enough that their drool is cute. Therefore, Jen’s points are null. Simple as that.

“I’m just soooo adorable,” you roll your eyes, “you don’t have to rub it in, dude.” you smile incredulously at him, throwing one of your legs over the other, just short of taking out Riwoo’s leg.

“I’m not joking!” His tone is defensive in ultimate Taesan fashion.

“Yeah, sure.” You tell him as Jen reaches out to you and pulls you to your feet, leaving Taesan alone on the floor.

Jen whispers to you, “so, when’s the wedding?” You roll your eyes.

“Shut up, you always do this.” You groan. “Do you get some sadistic joy from seeing me uncomfortable?” You cross your arms, almost elbowing Woonhak. This room is not big enough for eight people to fit in comfortably.

“Can I be the maid of honor?” She ignores your complaints and you let out an exaggerated groan in response.

“Don’t make me regret not making him go home.”

“Fine, fine.” She looks to be backing down. That is until she smirks, meeting your eyes again. “I’m not the only one who sees something!” She says cheerily before bouncing off as far as one can, which is about a foot. She looks back at you and winks before (lightly) punching Woonhak in the back to get his attention. She’s immediately drawn into some debate of some sort or another. Earlier, Leehan had assigned you both fish and Jen had been assigned a ‘Cherry Barb’ and she immediately took issue with the name for some reason or other. It was very cathartic for Taesan to watch someone contest Leehan’s fish opinions. He was totally dumbstruck; it was hilarious. Then, of course, you got an informational speech from Leehan which quelled Jens’ argument. Now, she’s a Cherry Barb.

Maybe this is how it should be, friends arguing with friends and laughing about it after, cramped in a too small room. When you meet Taesan’s eyes, you see the sparkle in them tell you he thinks so too. Maybe your friends will become the opposite of children of divorce, gaining family instead of it being separated. Is that just children of marriage? Ugh, Jen’s infected you.

“So, when’s the wedding?” Taesan wiggles his eyebrows, clearly having heard the conversation. You roll your eyes.

BREAKING CODE

Jen is passed out on her bed on the opposite side of the room. The egg clock greets you with the time in blaring white: 11:32 pm. Head in your hands, you groan. No amount of free-on-youtube reality TV was going to calm your nerves. None of your favorite episodes are helping, even the one you have open on your computer. 

After the boys had left, you guaranteed yourself that everything would be fine. Your presentation would go great, no questions asked. Now, sitting in your room practically alone, you feel way less optimistic. 

Thoughts of Taesan cross your mind and you furrow your eyebrows, trying to shoo them. You wonder if he’s awake right now, if he’s anxious like you. You try to calm yourself by thinking that it could be worse, the presentation could be 30% of your grade. Unsurprisingly, that doesn’t help. Your phone, thrown aside earlier and laying on the bed, is practically inviting you to make a bad decision with its open, empty screen.

You stare out the window, contemplating whether or not to take the risk and text him. Your window opens up to a view of the door to enter your dorm building, and you can see the freshly fallen snow settling around it. The snow covers the creaky benches and even the overhang above the door. It’s while you're doing this contemplating that, to your fortune or maybe misfortune, the risk decides to take you with a ding from your phone.

On your home screen, you see a contact pop up and you freeze. You read the name again, it still says MOUNTAIN. Taesan put that as his contact name.

You look again, you weren’t hallucinating. It’s Taesan texting you. Is he nervous? Did he seriously take you up on your offer? You were simultaneously hoping that he would text you while hoping that he would never, ever even think to.

You steel yourself and open your phone, that’s when you get your answer.

[MOUNTAIN]: are you up [MOUNTAIN]: i’m nervous are you

You did tell him to text you if he was nervous. That offer, however, happened when you were feeling a little bolder. You are not feeling especially bold right now.

[you]: i might be [MOUNTAIN]: meet me lets go to the convenience store [MOUNTAIN]: chills me out before midterms usually and this is like the same thing

You didn’t need to even try to make a bad decision, the bad decision came to you, enticing you with the lure of a convenience store and a chance to escape your stuffy dorm.

Resting your phone on your chest, staring at the ceiling like a corpse with the way your hands are positioned, you weigh your options. Mentally, you make a list.

PROs:

You see Taesan

You get a snack probably

CONs:

You see Taesan

It’s been established that crazy shit goes down when you see Taesan past like nine pm—it’s like your friendship is a vampire but night-intolerant instead of day-intolerant

The last time you made a for the plot decision it didn’t turn out that bad. Yeah, partnering with Taesan could have sucked, but it didn’t. Going to the party was a kind of yolo-esque decision, too, and that was kind of a blessing in disguise. You rationalize your preference for meeting him with the fact that you know him better now. He’s not a rando and, as far as you know, he’s not evil.

You only live once, right?

You pick your phone back up and text him before you can rethink it.

[you]: meet where? [MOUNTAIN]: outside your dorm building in 10

You squint at the screen. His place is like a twenty minute walk away and you’re pretty sure he doesn’t have a car, that would be weird for him. You can’t pinpoint why, but you don’t like the idea of him owning a car, despite the fact that he’s driven Jen’s with you in it. Ugh.

[you]: okay

You are totally chill about this.

Looking over at Jen in her bed, you decide you don’t want to be interrogated about this decision yet. She will not let you hear the end of it, and that’s not going to calm your nerves. It’s kind of against customary law safety recommendations to not tell your roommate where you’re going at night, but you decide that’s not applicable here.

Taking your computer off your lap and swinging your feet over the side of your bed as quietly as possible, you assess the situation. The nice thing about totally embarrassing yourself the first time you met him is that you now don’t particularly care about how you look. You’re wearing Jen’s mother’s giant Hartford Whalers hockey team brand shirt and some irritatingly red plaid pajama pants that totally crash with the cool blues and greens of your shirt.

Tiptoeing to the square, wooden-framed mirror hung in the entrance you check how your hair looks. You pull on your oversized puffer jacket as quietly as possible from the command hook-provided coat hanger adorning off the back of the exit door. The zipper is cold in your hands as you check to make sure Jen is oblivious to your impending excursion. She is still fast asleep, evident from the way her chest slowly rises and falls and the faint snores that you hear from her. 

The door handle is freezing to the touch. You expected as much from a dorm building with as little central heating as it tends to cater, but it’s still unpleasant. The door opens with a loud creak. You stand assured that no one has successfully snuck out of any single one of these dorms because the floorboards creak and the doors practically announce over the loudspeaker when anyone opens them.

Thankfully, Jen is none the wiser as you glance back at her, she’s in the same sleeping position you last saw her in: lying on her stomach with one leg thrown up closer to her chest and an arm flung over her head. It’s completely bizarre and totally adorable of her.

You make your way through the straightforward yet somehow labyrinthine halls of your dorm building. As you approach the glass entryway, you see Taesan illuminated by the orange streetlight, leaning against the red brick of the adjacent building standing on a recently-hardened layer of snowfall. He’s layered an unzipped black puffer jacket, similar to yours, over a gray hoodie and accessorised with a hat that makes his head look round like an egg. He’s rubbing his gloved hands together to keep them warm. He sees you before you even open the door, and his face lights up when he does.

After suppressing a smile, you scold him, “I can’t believe you called me to meet you at this hour!” 

“You told me I could!” He defends. You notice how you can see his breath against the cold air. It’s colder than you thought, you push your bare hands further into your pockets.

“How did you even get here so fast? Do you secretly live in the next building, or something? Are you my tropey boy next door?” You nudge him, wiggling your eyebrows as if this was some plot straight out of a fanfiction.

“Yeah, right.”

“Come on, you’re not secretly pining for me?” You tease him, sinking deeper into the collar of your coat on account of the biting wind that hits you once you leave the sanctuary of the protected building and, though you’re not willing to admit it to yourself, because the boy next to you makes your cheeks hot.

“Yeah, I’m secretly hanging off of your every word, just waiting for the moment I can confess my undying love for you.” He rolls his eyes. Noticing your hands shoved in your pockets, he changes the subject, “are you cold? I brought some extra gloves, do you want them?” His words are surprisingly considerate considering the incessant teasing you subject him to daily.

“Yeah.” You laugh, freezing as he takes the knit black gloves out of his pocket. Taking them from him and putting them on, you adjust them carefully. They’re far too big for you, but it’s the thought that counts, right? The “thought that counts” is definitely keeping your hands warmer. As you examine your new apparel with a smile, you feel a pressure over your head. Somehow, you hadn’t noticed him taking his hat off and now he is pushing it onto your head. You jump back, “hey! You could have lice!” Your smile disappears in favor of a pout. The hat does feel nice on your ears though.

Taesan bursts out laughing, “I do not have lice, I promise.” Still laughing, he elaborates, “plus, you’re cold. Your ears were so cold they were getting red.” You glare at him as he only laughs harder. Instinctively, you throw up your hands to cover your ears

“Point me to the convenience store or I’m going back inside whether you’re nervous or not.” You grumble.

“Okay, Miss Grump. Just follow me.” He says with a stupidly charming smile and grabs your wrist before picking up the pace. To him, picking up the pace means speed-walking, but for you, it means jogging.

“Ack!” You jump at the sudden movement, “Taesan! You can’t do that!” You try to free your wrist and, when you succeed, you cross your arms, standing solid in place as he turns around.

“If you don’t come with me, I’ll yell that you think Heath Ledger is super sexy during the presentation!” He yells, running backwards. Your jaw drops open. You want to trust Taesan enough to think he wouldn’t do that, but you also know Taesan well enough that he totally would do that. It was a bad idea to watch 10 Things I Hate About You with him, Jen, and his roommates after the Uno game. You do not need your personal preferences aired out to an auditorium of your peers and Dr. Woo. Plus, the only thing you like about Heath Ledger is that he essentially serenaded Kat Stratford!

Damn it. Stuck between would and would not, you narrow your eyes and start sprinting after him before he can turn a corner.

“You’re so on, Mr. Mountain!” He turns to look behind him, seeing you gaining fast on him as you run as fast as your legs will take you towards him. It’s his turn to be surprised, and he speeds up. After all, he wasn’t going that fast in the first place. As you close the gap between the two of you, you can hear his infectious laughter that makes you press down a swelling in your chest. You do not like Taesan, you assure yourself. It’s all in good fun. It’s only good fun. Focusing on the challenge ahead, you see Taesan just ahead of you, about to turn down a sidewalk.

He’s right behind a snowbank. If you’re the sun and the snowbank is the earth, he’s the moon in a solar eclipse.

It’s impulsive, your next action, truly. Presented with the right circumstances, however, you like to take your chances. With a shout that’s more primeval than you intended it to be, you grab onto his puffer jacket and tackle him onto the earth that is the snowbank.

It’s almost like slow-motion when you, with an evil smile, keep your eyes focused on Taesan as you see the world around you slowly become more horizontal as you fall, yourself falling on his back as he falls flat on his chest.

When his front compresses the snow enough to stop his descent towards the obscured grass, you hear him let out a moan. A moment of silence passes as both of you process what just happened. You’re propped up on your hands (gloved, thanks to Taesan) and he’s lying on his back, hands thrown above him because of his attempt at stabilization during the fall. His lips are slightly parted in shock, and his eyes are wide open, staring at you. He looks like he’s seen a ghost. He totally moaned when he fell. At least you can play teasing offense on him instead of having to defend why you tackled this man that is in no way, shape, or form your boyfriend. To be fair, men whimpering is hot. It’s just that you didn’t expect the man whimpering to be Taesan. It doesn’t really fit with his image.

You hold yourself up with one hand, clutching your stomach as you double over in laughter. “Oh my gosh, this is hilarious! I’m going to tell Riwoo that you moan when you get pushed around by women. He’ll never let you hear the end of it!” Taesan looks completely scandalized. His mouth is open and he looks totally terrified, you almost feel bad for him. 

Almost.

He covers his eyes with his gloves, “don’t you dare say anything.” Tears form in your eyes as you attempt to suppress a laugh to try and spare any more of his dignity. That doesn’t extend to teasing, though. It’s simply too good of an opportunity to pass up.

“What if, during the presentation, I yell out that you moan when someone pins you down?” You theorize him, sitting down on the dry ground next to him, throwing your legs over his stomach.

Still holding his hands over his eyes, he mutters a defensive response, “it’s not like that!” Flat on his back, he looks, somehow, handsome with snow visible in and contrasting against his darker hair, and his gloves covering his reddening face in embarrassment. If you’re lucky, maybe this is how he felt watching you fall onto him when you were drunk the first time you met. It’s more adoration than disgust.

“Aw, there’s no shame in it.” You coax. He is completely and totally embarrassed, you can tell by the way his ears are bright, cherry red.

“Don’t tell anyone, okay? What do you want?” He whines, refusing to look at you even when you try to pry his hands away from his face.

“Whatever we do and wherever we go together, it’s on you. Monetarily, I mean.” You push a finger into his chest as he finally frees his eyes from his own grip, daring to look at you face on.

“You serious?” He groans, he’s still red but looks to be over the initial shock. Either from the biting wind swirling around you or because of your teasing, his cheeks are coated in a dusting of red.

“Yeah, unless you want everyone to know about your sexual preferences.” Releasing him from your pushed finger, you cross your arms and shrug innocently.

“This is blackmail. This is extortion!” He complains, covering his eyes again.

“So… yes or no?” You grab his wrists and rip them from his face, revealing his angsty stare.

“...Yes, I’ll pay. Will you let it go now?” His words are harsher and he’s sulking, glaring at you. Maybe you pushed it too far.

“Hey, I meant it when I said it’s nothing to be ashamed about.” You let go of his wrists, opting to rub his shoulder instead, in an attempt to reassure him. “Listen, I lost my dignity by falling on you and drooling when we met, and you lost your dignity just now. Let’s just say we’re even.” You smile optimistically, hoping it will psych him into believing you because what you say is the truth, even if it’s a touchy subject, apparently.

Once he’s reminded of your not-so-cute meet-cute, he seems to relax a little. “You did drool like crazy. Do I really have to pay?” He’s smiling now, thank God. He rests his hands on his chest, looking way more comfortable.

“Yup. You do.” You laugh, it’s a softer laugh than your earlier fit, though. “Convenience store?” You prompt him, offering a hand to have him get up. As your hand interlocks with his, a smile tugs at the sides of your lips and you still can’t tell if the heat in your face is from the wind chill or Taesan. “And, take your hat back, idiot. Your ears are red.” The hat traps all the heat radiating from your flushed face and it makes you almost feel sweaty.

He laughs a little before speaking, “thanks for the hat. My ears are just so cold.” He jokes. “The store is just this way.” He points to the right he was going to take when you knocked him down. He was leading you the right way, at least. “Never try to blackmail me again, I swear.” He threatens, pouting, and then shoves you, however lightly. He doesn't look very scary.

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll see.” You retort. He glares at you, keeping eye contact as you walk closer to the glowing, welcoming arms of the convenience store in the form of its bright lights, illuminating the street from the inside, casting an eerie glow onto the otherwise dark and snow-ridden street. In response to his look, you childishly blow a strawberry at him. This hasn’t been either of your finest hours. Your antics draw out a smile from him, at least. Practically skipping along, you try to change the subject to something less personal, maybe. “What did you expect when you called me out here? You said you were nervous, after all.”

“Yeah, I did say that. I got the pre-presentation nerves, you know? ‘Thought we could talk about it.” He rubs his neck. This is definitely a less personal topic, but that’s not to say it’s impersonal.

“So, talk.” You command, avoiding eye contact mostly so you don’t laugh, replaying him falling over.

“What is there to say? I had some nerves.” He laughs, opening the silvery door to the convenience store, stepping aside to let you through.

“What a gentleman,” you muse, “how’d you learn that? Rom-coms?”

“I’m allowed to be nice, too, you know. You watch more romantic comedies than me.” He rolls his eyes.

“I do it ironically.” You drawl. “I was nervous too, to be honest,” you were not going to tell him that you were watching rom-coms trying to relax, that would be a little too much ammo for him, “Jen was fast asleep and I was just kind of… lying there.” You pick up a miscellaneous chip bag, lazily inspecting it.

“Oh, I totally get it. The only other person awake was Leehan, and he was going to trap me in fish conversation if I even so much as approached him.” You snort at this. Even from your brief interactions with Leehan this afternoon, his passion is palpable. You can just see it in his face that he’s a little bit of an uber-nerd about those particular animals. Nerd is being used affectionately, of course. His interest is admirable. “Do you want those chips?” He asks, pointing to the bag in your hand.

“Not really, I like those other ones better.” You shrug, pointing to the alternative, an equally fluorescent bag of slightly better-tasting chips. “We can tame the worries together,” you smile at him, reaching behind you to grab your preferred flavor, “the question is how.”

“Going to the convenience store is a pretty good start.” He pushes his bottom lip into the top one. As you watch this action, he suppresses a smile, suddenly. “I have an idea.” Of course he does. He says this with a growing smile on his face as he locks eyes with you. “We should have a snowball fight.” Your own smile grows as he waits for your response.

“We should.” You nod. This time, you have an idea, a bad one. “Only if you moan again.” You charge him with the scandalous comment, and he looks affronted again, and immediately reaches out a free hand to shove you.

“Don’t say that so loud!” He hissed, looking around the almost empty store to see if anyone heard him. “That stays between you and me.” You roll your eyes but you can’t hide your amusement.

“Yeah, okay.” You walk off towards the cashier across the store to buy your snacks, sticking out your tongue at him. On the way, you inspect and in turn pick up a chocolate bar and a mediocre-looking apple to buy with your chips; it’s all about balance.

Taesan comes up behind you as you place your haul on the mini conveyor belt and gives a small bow to the cashier. He sets down two bags of chips and an enoki mushroom snack that has Japanese writing on it, for which you give him a disgusted look. Perusing his other selections, you smile when you see the second chip bag, for which you change your disgusted look for one of gratitude.

“Aw, did you get those for me?” You ask, pointing to the less perfect, but still pretty good flavor.

“No, I got them for… um…” He pauses, seemingly unable to think of someone else he would get them for. It’s kind of cute, if not a little embarrassing. “I got them for you. I can be kind, remember?” Sassy man apocalypse.

“Duly noted.” You purse your lips. You look at him expectantly, going from him to his card on the back of his phone, again.

“What?” He asks, innocently. Sungho wasn’t joking when he said that he looks like a cat. As he realizes you’re deadass, he narrows his eyes and turns to you, “are you serious about the whole paying thing?” He cocks his head.

“I was pretty clear. That is, unless you—” You’re cut off by Taesan clamping a hand over your mouth, for which he gets a repulsed and highly suspicious glare from the middle-aged cashier, he meets this with another bow, unclasping your face from his grip. When you’re let go, you raise your eyebrows at him as if to say ‘really?’ His hand smells like lavender soap, it’s kind of pleasant, actually. From the state of his and his roommates’ everything-but-sleeping room, you wouldn’t have guessed they were in possession of floral hand soap. When you’re done thinking about how he smells, you’re feeling a little embarrassed and also physically being led out of the store, hopefully after Taesan paid.

“Was that really necessary?” You ask, hands free because Taesan’s holding the store-provided bag that houses all of your treats.

“I don’t need anyone hearing about… that. Especially a middle-aged anyone.” He clarifies and fair enough. You take the opportunity, however, to scoop up a clump of snow (distinctly not yellow, you checked) and pitch it at him. Still carefully holding your bag, he looks at you with a sense of betrayal. “Oh, I’m going to get you.” He threatens before hurling a snowball that splashes against your only water-resistant coat.

Snowball after snowball is thrown, before your brief yet intense brawl is cut short by ice cold rain slicing through the air around you. Without Taesan’s hat, the sleet pummels your head and it hurts. Your puffer has no hood. Before you can let out an ‘ow,’ even, you find your oasis above you, a puffer. Taesan’s puffer. He managed to, in the short time it started sleeting and you noticed it, drop all of his stockpiled snowballs, pick up the convenience store’s bag, take off his puffer jacket, and cover your head with it, protecting you from the harsh, half-frozen rain. When you look at his face to your right, he looks totally angelic. The streetlight behind him makes him look like he has a halo from the light filtering through the edges of his hair. He’s smiling, despite all the teasing and irritation you put him through in the short time you’ve been out of your dorm.

“Yikes, that came fast.” He comments, looking around and noticing how the sleet pelts down around the two of you. “I’ll take you home, I think it’s our cue to wrap this up.” He suggests. His sweetness contrasts against the wistful feeling that unexpectedly forms when he mentions parting. Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation or maybe it’s the chill getting to you, but you feel like you’re on cloud nine, it’s the most you’ve laughed since Jen told you the crazy goings-on between her highschool ex-girlfriend and one of her friends. Apparently, her ex-girlfriend is absolutely smitten for her friend and said friend completely ignores her at every turn. You laughed until your cheeks hurt that day. Your cheeks don’t hurt from laughing, necessarily, but it’s the same sort of freeing feeling. You don’t know what to make of that, but you’re damn sure you like the way he’s smiling at you.

“Whatever you say. Thanks for the roof.” You beamed, pointing up at the make-shift shelter he’s made for you.

“My pleasure, Miss Grump.” He says this with a posh accent that makes you laugh. You have no idea since when he’s started calling you Miss Grump, but there are worse names, probably.

“Don’t make me kick you.” You threaten, trying (and failing) to suppress the grin that tugs at your lips.

“Sorry, Madame Grump.” He corrects, still holding the cover over your head.

 “I’m not even being grumpy.” You warn him, not even trying to hide the smile that spreads across your face. “Come on, get moving.” You cue him to start the walk back to your dorm.

“Your wish is my command, Miss—” 

“Don’t you dare.” You threaten and bump your shoulder into his. The walk back to your dorm is short, it took you far longer to get to the convenience store because of… well… tangential events. Checking your phone, you finally learn the time. It’s fucking two in the morning. Great! You’ll get essentially no sleep, but that’s nothing a little caffeine can’t fix.

“I dare more than you think I do.” He purses his lips.

“Okay, I dare you to admit you moaned when you fell.” You challenge him with a smirk.

He groans, “I pick truth.”

“This isn’t truth or dare, you don’t get to pick. Plus, truth would be ‘did you moan when you fell.’” You can see your dorm from where you stand in front of the red brick building, it’s still brightly lit. Hopefully that means that Jen is still asleep and hasn’t woken up to turn the overhead off.

“You can’t subpoena me so I’m not playing this game.” He shrugs, stopping underneath the overhang above the glass door that marks the entrance to your building and the separation from Taesan. As he steps aside, taking his puffer with him and putting it back on, you’re suddenly and unfortunately aware of his body heat now that it’s gone.

“I’m less nervous.” He says with a smile that seems almost confidential, like a secret only you know. He’s undeniably easy on the eyes with his stupid hat and soaked gloves and hoodie. 

“Me too.” The words come out of your mouth softly. Somehow, they’re vulnerable words to say. “Goodnight, Taesan.” After your parting words, neither of you make a move to leave. His full name feels more meaningful than his nickname, somehow. You stand there, lit up by the LEDs of the hallways, staring at each other, and you’re not entirely sure why. The tension might be thick, it might not be, you can’t tell by the way you’re focused on his face. Well, it’s not exactly his face. It’s the way his hair frames his face, yes, and the way that his eyes scrunch when he smiles, even slightly, it’s also the way his egg hat looks and the way his hoodie is so damp because he was trying to keep you warm and dry. 

Then it’s all over. When the tension breaks, it’s not like it’s cut through. It’s more like it dissipates. It dissipates thanks to the man who barrels down the street adjacent to your bubble, blasting a Spanish ballad and singing his heart out. Soy capitán, soy capitán, soy capitán! blasts through the complex. You break eye contact with Taesan just to laugh at the oddity passing you. You watch him coast down the street on his green bike, singing, without a helmet, hands-free. Your mother would not approve. Taesan’s not laughing, but he’s beaming and staring at you as you crouch down because of your laughter. You try and convince yourself it’s not even that funny, but something about the era of the night just makes you heave with how hard you’re laughing.

“I mean,” recovering, you let out a sigh, finally releasing a breath that you don’t remember holding, “it is a college campus.”

“You can say that again.” His hands are on his hips, and he’s managed to pry his eyes away from you. The sleet’s stopped somewhat, but the ground is still icy from the snow and sleet and rain that have frozen and refrozen over the past few days. The same wistful silence settles between you two after the interruption.

“Maybe it’s a sign.” You laugh in disbelief. Now you’re sure you’ve laughed more than when Jen told you about her friend’s drama. Way more.

“A sign for what?” He questions, jocose and almost suspicious of your deduction.

“A sign you’ve violated like a million rules of common decency!” Another voice, one other than the singing man’s melody and Taesan’s and your chatter, is heard echoing throughout. “Han Taesan, I’m going to beat your ass!” The voice threatens angrily. At first, you don’t know where it’s coming from. At second, you don’t want to believe where it’s coming from. You slowly look up to your open dorm window and see Jen’s disheveled figure poking out with the single most serious scowl you’ve ever seen her wear. The only time that gets close to this nouveau expression is the time she decked a guy for… being a total freak for one of her friends, let’s say. Your body is confused on whether to panic, run, or just freeze. Waiting to act is still an action, and it’s the prognosis your body suggests. You freeze, looking from Taesan to the window, where Jen is notably absent.

You look at Taesan. 

You look at the window. 

You look at Taesan. 

You look at the hallway.

Taesan looks terrified, you look utterly and visibly confused, and for Jen… well, it looks like there's smoke coming out of her ears as she storms down the hallway towards the doors that open to reveal your two-person symposium. Jen slams open the door and, if it wasn’t specifically made not to slam, the impact of the slam would have reverberated until even Dr. Woo heard it across the campus in his (probably sound-proofed) office where he probably still is because, you know, he’s Dr. Woo.

“You motherfucker, what did you do to get her to go out without telling me! What are you hiding? Are you a criminal? Are you a smoker? Oh no, you’re just a piece of shit trying to get in her pants!” Jen steps in front of you, blocking everything but Taesan’s head from your view. From what you can see, Taesan hasn’t been sucker punched yet. His eyes are wide and he’s holding his hands up like he’s waiting for her to swing, and maybe he is. You know he doesn’t know her well enough to know that she wants to beat the shit out of him, but she did say explicitly that she was going to beat the shit out of him so he had some reason to suspect that that’s what was incoming.

“W-what? I don’t— I didn’t do any of that stuff!” He’s shaking his hands wildly and Jen still looks like she’s about to swing by the way she’s pushing a finger into his chest. Still too shocked to do, well, anything except watch.

You see her rear up in a way that’s all too familiar to you, and when you remember you can move, “Jen, wait! It’s–” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you see her closed fist collide with his cheekbone and the impact make him reel back, clutching the affected area with a mittened hand. He almost knocks his head into the pole supporting the overhang, and you can see he’s visibly out of it. Is this a good time to mention that Jen is freakishly good at karate? What Jen is, however, not amazing at is analyzing the situation. As she battles with the follow-through of the swing, she loses her footing on the icy ground, falling flat on her ass. Now, both parties accompanying you are on the icy ground and you’re the only one still standing.

You act in a delay. “Jen! He didn’t do anything, I swear!” You reach for her shoulders that are no longer there, trying to stop an action that’s already happened. You watch as Taesan crumples further into a fetal position and you stand there in shock.

“See!” She spits, snapping her head back to look up at you. “He’s not even trying to help me up!” Her eyebrows are furrowed and angry.

“Jen,” you almost can’t help but laugh, “you decked him, he doesn’t even know what planet he’s on.” You look from your best friend to your… Taesan, and wonder how you attend to both of their bullshit situations at once. “Okay, first of all, Jen, please don’t punch his ass again—”

“Yeah, I’ll punch him in the gut.” She snarls, cutting you off.

“No! There will be no punching.” You declare, trying to sound confident but you’re so bewildered it comes out more as a question. You turn your attention to Taesan, whose nose is bleeding ever so slightly. He’s holding his hat-clad head in his hands and is grimacing in pain. You mirror him, a grimace appearing on your own face as you look upon his pitiful condition. This is going to be so fun to explain. “I came out here because I told him he could call me if he was nervous for the presentation tomorrow and I’d talk to him about it and so we went to the convenience store and… I’m fine! He’s not just trying to get in my pants, he would’ve done that already if he wanted to.” You ramble, using logic that probably wouldn’t withstand in court but works well enough when you talk a million miles an hour to a less than law-savvy subject, that subject being Jen. The subject, Jen, looks scandalized by this information.

“Where did my innocent baby go?” She pouts, getting up to put her arms around you. “Where did my sweet, lightweight, baby with no love life go? She’s sneaking out to see boys?” 

“Jen, I’m a grown woman.” You tell her, incredibly blasé and stiff as she embraces you in a hug. From over her shoulder, you catch Taesan’s eye. When your eyes meet, he laughs and then winces. It probably wasn’t a good idea to welcome an uncontrollable movement when you have some sort of abrasion on your cheek and blood coming out of your nose. Jen pulls back to look at you and shakes her head, you can almost hear her saying they grow up so fast. Maybe this is the same kind of telepathy that goes down between her and her sisters. Maybe you get it. Jen, coming back to earth from her sappy, self-appointed caretaker meltdown, narrows her eyes and looks from you to Taesan, and then from you to Taesan, again.

She opens her mouth and lets out a puff of air as if to start speaking, but she only does so a few seconds later. “So… there was no reason for me to deck him?” She asks, raising an eyebrow in genuine confusion. You nod, solemnly. Her jaw drops and her eyebrows push together. She puts her tongue in her cheek, mind reeling. This is when she realizes she gave this poor man a bloody nose and probably a black eye for no damn reason. Suddenly, she fixes her gaze on you, “you’re the one I should be chewing out! Do you know how many staples of girl code you’ve violated?! You could have died!” She exclaims, clearly ready to give you a talking-to, way worse than when you spelled ‘Elliann’ as ‘Ellyanne.’ She’s like OSHA but for general female wellbeing.

You reach out to grab her hands that are moving dramatically to illustrate her point, “okay, you can chew me out after Taesan isn’t bleeding out.” She seems to relax like a combative patient injected with midazolam.

“I’m not bleeding out.” He huffs, but is still holding his nose bridge, so he’s still bleeding, at least, and that’s not exactly ideal. 

“You look like shit, though.” You tell him

“Thanks,” he groans, “can I get some tylenol, or something?” Yeah, he totally looks like a hurt puppy. It’s kind of cute, you guess.

“Yeah, we’ll get you patched up.” You assure him, breaking away from Jen to attend to Taesan.

“No ‘we.’ Only you. Don’t let her punch me again.” 

“We’re over the combat phase, it’s fine. Get up, do your legs still work?” You try to say your biting words as comfortingly as possible. It’s past two in the morning, you’re too over-tired to try to pick your words so they’ll feel better for the receiver. What’ll make Taesan feel better, physically, at least, is tylenol and making sure his nose isn’t broken.

“My legs don’t, my ass hurts like hell.” Jen complains, but helps in picking Taesan up anyway.

“It’s very hard to break a tailbone, a nose, on the other hand…” You raise your eyebrows but say no more. Taesan gets up just fine, but still clutches his nose. “Campus clinic’s probably closed, we have a first-aid kit, though.”

Jen issues a half-hearted-sounding yet fully meant apology in the form of a mutter of “sorry for punching you, man.” 

“You’re cool, man. Cool that you were looking out for her.” He gives her a small thumbs up. It’s a weird moment of friendship between these two. For having met barely a week ago and having spent five hours together tops, these two have a more tumultuous relationship than most twin siblings at the age of nine, which is saying something considering most have chased each other with a knife by the age of five and a half. Jen has gone from asking to be the maid of honor to decking the presumed groom and now having a hopefully more stable relationship with said groom. So much plot it’s not even ‘for the plot’ anymore, you’re just riding the wave of unexpected inciting events.

“The more the merrier.” You mutter as you sling Taesan’s arm over your shoulder. Why he abets this when the damage is to his face, who knows. The more the merrier indeed in your cramped dorm, trying to ignore how the cold compress on his bruise keeps melting even though it’s so cold and the fact that you have an injured and sleep-deprived boy on your hands.

GOT GOOD

You bite the inside of your cheek, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to express your dismay. You kind of bombed your presentation. 

Scrap that, you really bombed your presentation. 

As you step out of the lecture hall following the sea of your peers, you step aside to press your back into a free wall. It’s one of the moments where you need to just detach. Crossing your arms for stability, you melt into the wall. The overhead light that you can see even through your closed eyelids is obscured every so often by a moving body. This drowsiness is familiar.

Amid the frequent passings of students, the light is masked for longer than would be caused by someone in passing. You know who it is.

“Hey, it wasn’t that bad.” You open your eyes to a squint and see Taesan leaning against the wall next to you. Despite how you try to ignore it, you’re immediately drawn to the squashed berry purple color that blossoms on the inflamed skin under his left eye, giving way to a lighter almost green tint near his nose. Jen got him good. Your blinks are slow, the scant hours of sleep are getting to you. You slept through your alarm, foreboding you from even getting coffee before the presentation. Despite his injury, he’s smiling.

“I lost where I was like every other sentence.” You attempt to mirror his smile, but it doesn’t really work, leaving you with a smile that reaches your eyes but not your lips, somehow.

“It’s Dr. Woo, you’ll be fine. He doesn’t care nearly as much as you do. We got all of our information out. It doesn’t matter how graceful it was.” He lays out his reasons and you cock your head, weighing the possibility that he’s right.

“Are you like a vampire, or something? You don’t need sleep?”

“I’m used to it.” He shrugs. Maybe living with five as many people as you do makes you sleep way less; especially since it seems like Taesan is their chaperone despite the fact that Sungho and Riwoo are older than him, you’ve learned.

“You shouldn’t be. Sleep is good.” You close your eyes again, and a silence settles over you. You’ve created your own little bubble in the hallway, and it might not even include Taesan. Right now, it’s just you and your desperate need for rest. You are not the kind of person to pull an all-nighter.

“I told you you were going to crash.” He reminds you and you hum in response. “Look,” he gets your attention by putting a hand on your shoulder, “the boys are out, come back to my place and you can take a nap. I know that your room still smells like disinfectant.” A smile creeps across your face at this. It’s true: your room smells like the pungent iodine that you used to clean the minor abrasions on his cheekbone. You still have no idea why Jen has that much power in her.

“Lead the way.” 

“It’s way closer to this building than it is to your building, it’s barely any walk at all.” He assures you. Regardless, you have to speed walk to keep up with the pace.

“Do you have hot chocolate, or anything?” At your drawled request, he tsks. Pressing his lips together, you take that as a no.

“I’ll see what I can do. Woonhak owes me like nine favors.” He laughs a little at this, and you smile too. Unremarkably, it hasn’t become spring overnight, and so the wind is still nipping at your face. You were wise enough to wear your Taesan-provided gloves, though. Looking at Taesan’s face and the way the wind makes his face a little pink, you’re pretty sure you could find the whole color palette on his face. Except blue, maybe. You’ve got the other colors covered. Red for his cheeks, orange, yellow, green, and purple for his bruise. Huh, that bruise contributes a lot. “It’s just this way.” He says, guiding you with a pointed hand towards a complex highly similar to your own. Same red brick buildings and same overhang. The difference is that, you know from picking your roommate, this building is the apartment sector. Frankly, it’s incredible that Taesan and his roommates are all friends. You know other people who got apartments, or even quads, who aren’t so happy.

As you step into the entrance way, you feel the warm air hit your face. This building is much warmer than yours, maybe that’s a good thing. Walking up the stairs, Taesan is steady behind you. You wonder if he’s thinking about catching you like he had to the time you were drunk off your ass.

As soon as you enter the apartment dorm, your focus tunnel visions on the soft couch in the middle of the room. It looks like heaven as you step towards it. You were unfairly ripped from the comfort of your bed for that fuckass presentation and now you can return to your natural state, sleeping. You thank whatever power is out there because this is so incredibly opportune.

As soon as you shed your backpack and winter coat and collapse on the couch, you’re out like a light. No words from Taesan can wake you now, even if it is him professing his undying love for you. No, it’s up to your internal clock to make you up, lest you sleep forever.

Your internal clock does wake you up. You’re groggy, but it’s still light out, so you couldn’t have slept for so long. As you assess your situation, you notice two differences.

First, you’re warm.

A navy blue throw blanket has been carefully draped over you, and you’re pretty sure you didn’t do that yourself. You bite the inside of your cheek—happily, this time. It’s proof he does care, and maybe you’re letting the gesture get to your head. You do… not like Han Taesan, right?

Second, you’re alone in Taesan’s living room.

There are no signs of life, not from his roommates nor from the mountain himself. That’s more puzzling. You would have assumed he would have stayed for one reason or another, maybe he went out to get hot chocolate? He told you that he would have Woonhak do it.

Looking around the room, you take in the sights. There’s a modest TV with various video game consoles, there is a section of the room clearly designated for guitars, and it’s remarkably clean. Not too bad for five early 20-somethings and one 18 year old. It’s kind of impressive, actually. There isn’t any leftover food out and even the dishes in the sink have been rinsed, if not thoroughly washed. You pat down the area around you in search of your phone, mainly to check the time, but also to figure out where the hell Taesan went. Something about his absence hurts your heart in an uncomfortable way. You would have liked to see him when you woke up. Still… you do not like Han Taesan… do you? No, no. You don’t like him, that’s silly. He’s just your partner for a group project.

As you locate your phone, you hear the door open behind you and you swing your head around to see Taesan standing in the doorway with a hand behind his back and a bag in the hand that’s visible to you. Another bag, nice.

“Good morning.” He smiles at your state. The way he looks at you suggests your hair is out of order. You fail obviously as you try to subtly sort it out.

“I had a great nap. You have a good napping couch.” You bring a hand up to rub your right eye even though your mom says it causes astigmatism. It would suck to have contacts in right about now.

“Well,” he says, setting down the bag on the counter, “I have your hot chocolate.” You’re pretty sure your face lights up at this, it’s the perfect thing for this kind of dingy day. “And,” he continues, “I got it from a café near here; store-bought isn’t as good.” He takes a cardboard carrier out of the bag and presents his finds to you, two lidded cups.

“You sure know the way to my heart.” You mean that on a deeper level that you hope he doesn’t catch. “What’s behind your back?” You ask, pointing to the obvious hand still tucked behind him. 

He looks sheepish and brings the hand to his front, “I got these for you.” His cool act is far gone, he seems almost timid. In his left hand he grasps a bouquet of an assortment of colorful flowers. There are assorted yellows, blues, pinks, purples, and reds. It’s like a sunset wrapped in brown paper and tied in a pretty twine bow.

“Taesan!” You exclaim excitedly, jumping up from the couch to go collect your gift. “Why?” You poke. He’s quiet for a second, the question seems to echo throughout the room. A chorus of ‘why.’ You meet his eyes for just a second, but the shared glance makes your heart beat faster. He seems to bite his tongue, there’s a shining reflection of the kitchen light in his dark brown eyes. You don’t see them crinkle up, indicative of a straight face.

He swallows like his throat is thick, “I got them for you because I like you… I like you romantically.”

You’re not sure if your heart swells or drops.

From this one statement, you learn two things. You learn that Han Taesan likes you, and you learn that you like Han Taesan. You really like Han Taesan. You like the way he’s cold but kind and the way his bangs fall and his endless care for his roommates and his hardworking nature. 

You like Han Taesan.

You take the bouquet in your hands, analyzing the flowers. You notice they’re mostly tulips, but flanked by carnations, baby’s breath, and bluebells. A smile grows on your face as you look back up at him. He looks absolutely terrified. It’s not worth it to tease him here. He’s vulnerable, you should be too.

You begin to open your mouth, but before you can, he continues in an attempt at defense, “listen to me, please. I thought you were cute and smart even before the party and all of those incidents, but now that I know you I can’t not tell you. You’re witty and stubborn and playful and it’s so easy to talk to you. You were cute when you were drooling, I didn’t know that was possible. You make fun of me but I like it because you’re so kind. I… I like you.” He confesses, he’s talking fast and you think your heart might burst with excitement. Excitement isn’t the right word—euphoria? Joy? Happiness? Exhilaration? No word is quite right for how you feel about Taesan. “The tulips symbolize love.” He says under his breath and the flowers take on a whole new meaning. You feel like a tulip. Tulips symbolize love.

The smile that bursts across your face makes his eyebrows release all their tension immediately, “Taesan, I like you too. I really like you,” you tell him, “tulips symbolize love.” You look down at the bouquet and see the array of tulips that smile back at you.

“Can I kiss you? I’m not drunk, I swear.” He promises. The allusion to your first meeting makes you laugh. You met with an ask for a kiss, and now he confesses with an ask for a kiss.

“Yes.” You whisper, and he throws his arms around you, pressing his forehead to yours. You sway like that for a moment, you feel the cold of his jacket against your arms and the pressure of his hand on the small of your back. You look at him and in his eyes you see him. No walls, just you two. Just you and Taesan.

You wrap your arms around his neck, one hand still holding the bouquet and pull his lips to yours. Warmth blossoms in your chest—his kiss is soft and tender and he tastes like mint. Mint might be your new favorite flavor. His lips fit perfectly with yours. You feel the soft press of his fingers into your back, pulling you closer to him. Your lips part slightly and you’re out of breath before he even starts to pull away. His kiss is just like him, just when you think you know him all, he shows you a new surprise, something new. After stalling for just a second, he pulls you back to him and deepens the kiss. You could kiss this minty boy forever.

When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours again, fluttering his eyes open and shut.

“I wrote a song about this. A serenade.” He says breathlessly.

Even in the dead of winter, you think your heart melts all over again.

NOTES: Shoutout Hartford Whalers even tho they sports disbanded! SINGING MAN CAMEO! The singing man is a genuine character in my life. Living in the city center of a major city means I get LOTS of people doing weird shit like the emoji guy (who wears outfits only with bright fucking emojis, my friends have seen him too, he’s wacky), the tree guy (a man who always walks around with a fallen branch on his head, no idea why), and the supercar medical worker (woman in scrubs who drives down the streets with a loud ass car that looks like one of those fuckass shoes with big holes in them you know what im talking about the kidney shoes). I take a pic and keep them in a folder on my phone called “recurring characters.” I have never seen the singing man. He walks past my house every weekday at 11pm and I like to have my windows open and he sings loud Spanish ballads. I love him. Singing man my beloved. Sorry this is a slowburn, it was forced out of me i fear. is this a slowburn? methinks so.

[starlostseungmin]

───────　𐙚˙⋆.˚ 　𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.　❞

revamping the old seungmin fic recs. since a lot of writers from my old post deactivated and i added new ones. be mindful of what you read and please reblog to share !! （ 𖹭 ） : personal favorites.　

˖˙ ᰋ ──　 18+ , fics below contains smut , mdni.

𖹭 run rabbit run. by @kwanisms 　ー 20.5k words, 18+nsfw ; seungmin is a vampire and has lived a very long life and seen many ages pass him by. he’s grown weary of immortality until he meets someone one random night who really puts things into perspective for him.

𖹭 is it over now? by @jeongin-lvr 　ー 2.2k words ; ex!seungmin, talk of past relationship, talks of arguing and slightly toxic relationship.

𖹭 midnight diner. by @hwan-g 　ー 8.2k words ; he’s seen a lot of shit in his line of work. but this—he couldn’t let this go. not when you were involved.

darling. by hwan-g　— 8k words, 18+nsfw ; it hasn’t stopped raining for weeks. as you enter his life, as you walk out of it. he just needs one chance with you.

𖹭 your biggest fan. by @jeonginsleftcheek 　ー 9.8k words.

𖹭 hands. by @bbyquokka　ー 0.7k words ; you're obsessed with seungmin’s hands and he knows it.

𖹭 what are you looking at? by @quokkawritesarchivee

𖹭 once is all it takes. by @skz317cb97　ー 5.2k words.

𖹭 marriage material. by @comet-falls 　ー 1.8k words.

thin walls. by comet-falls 　ー 4.4k words.

dirty. by comet-falls 　ー 2.9k words.

seungmin smut drabble. by comet-falls

𖹭 come over. by @multifandomfantasies 　

𖹭 seungmin drabble. by @luminois　ー reader's first time, suggestive.

ditto. by @hwajin 　ー 1.7k words.

kisses with seungmin. by @tasteracha

shy boyfriend seungmin. by @dwaekkicidal

𖹭 thread. by @seospicybin　ー 3.3k words ; the dinner with seungmin’s family going so well, until something bothered seungmin’s mind.

seungmin hard thoughts. by @ateracha

skz seungmin hard thoughts. by @astayinwonderland

bf!seungmin texts. [ fake texts ; suggestive ] by @imfoive

˖˙ ᰋ ──　 13-16+ , fics below contains pure fluff and angst.

𖹭 try and take me ft. han jisung by @latteseungs 　ー 5.6k words ; where han jisung is an annoying piece of shit for bothering you all the time when you’re trying to get a date with kim seungmin.

engagement ring. by @kim-seung-mo 　ー 1.4k words ; your childhood best friend and boyfriend since high school, kim seungmin, has finally decided to propose to you! but the proposal ring he bought…… seemed a bit too small?

𖹭 won't go home without you. by @gamerwoo 　ー 2.5k words ;  “it’s not over tonight, just give me one more chance to make it right. i may not make it through the night. i won’t go home without you.”

𖹭 take a shot. by @starseungs 　ー 19.4k words ; it really shouldn’t take a genius to figure out that you and your co-star didn’t get along. you knew kim seungmin. you knew how life functioned despite the cameras. and you knew that it was harder to keep a good shot hidden than it was to delete a bad one.

𖹭 the subtle art of cliche confessions. by starseungs 　ー 2.5k words ; as aware as you were that life wasn’t like the fictional stories of romance that you enjoyed, a part of you still relished the thought of experiencing it for yourself.

𖹭 universe. by starseungs 　ー 2.5k words ; every day, he thanked the universe for placing you in his life. out of the millions of heavenly bodies in the vast sky, you outshone every single one in his eyes. he was waist deep in a slowly sinking phenomenon he could only describe as love.

of fishes and chocolate muffins. by starseungs　ー 1.2k words ; working the morning shift at a cafe on weekdays isn't really the best, entertainment wise. still, eavesdropping on your customers wasn't something you did on a daily basis. it just so happened that two of your regulars had something in store for you today.

college!crush seungmin. by starseungs

𖹭 [9:01PM] by starseungs

# 001. by starseungs

19:46. by @portalhan 　ー 0.8k words ; your boyfriend seungmin takes it upon himself to make sure you've eaten, in spite of your insane workload.

battleground. by @hwangism143 　ー 21k words ; you hated your co-president, kim seungmin. but, it's your last year of high school and prom planning is up to the two of you. you just expect getting work done and leaving school. what you don't expect however, is kim seungmin looking after you (considering you never do) and you coaxing him into being your prom date.

cresent. by @starlostastronaut　ー 0.9k words ; night walk with your boyfriend in london.

ex!seungmin. by @soobnny

dating him. by soobnny

𖹭 cops and robbers. by soobnny　ー 3.8k words ; fuckboy kim seungmin takes interest in the quiet, photography major who lives just across his dorm.

𖹭 [10:50p.m.] kiss at the other’s place + out of love. by @scxrlettwxtches

[11:34PM] — light breeze. by @myjisung

𖹭 proofreader (bf) seungmin. by @neo-shitty

𖹭 married couple vibes. by @arafilez

seungmin as a boyfriend. by @blue-jisungs

a chance. by @seungly

after a day out. by seungly

one with the unrequited love. by @zoe8stay

heart burn. by zoe8stay

voice messages from seungmin. by zoe8stay

beyond love. by @milkybonya

library loser. by milkybonya

the five times seungmin shows you he loves you quietly. by @sadienita

but i love you. by @ppiri-bahng

when he’s in a bad mood all he needs is you. by @rachalixie

sleepy seungmin. by rachalixie

sip of chamomile tea. by @chachachannah

enemies to lovers with seungmin. by @hyunverse

i love the rain. by @seungfl0wer

sip of chamomile tea. by @chachachannah

enemies to lovers with seungmin. by @hyunverse

i love the rain. by @seungfl0wer

₍ ᐢ..ᐢ ₎ *；　 don’t forget to reblog and leave feedbacks for the writers !! will add more soon. enjoy reading folks !!

[micahweissberg]

‎ he swirls the drink in his hand, finding the fruity, topical flavor to be more palatable the longer it sits on his tongue. he just hopes whoever owned the glass previously doesn't have mono or something. it's a nice coral shade of pink, like the inside of a pomelo, that micah thinks must look good on pictures and is probably the only reason it was left out here in the first place. or it could be rachel's and she was just too polite to say anything. this train of thought ends by the time he hears rachel talk about something-something problems, show some respect. but of course he respects her! as a person. as a woman. as a reporter. but as his father's date? not so much. he's too old to really give a shit about who his father is seeing for leisure—because let's face it, why does saul weissberg ever marry someone, let alone enter relationships, at this point?—but there's always that eight-year old kid's instinct to look at his parents' partners as the subject for psychological warfare, fighting for their attention to remain solely on him, for their world to revolve around him. perhaps this is why he'd fucked off of the face of the earth for a month: because it was no longer about him.

but here is rachel han, giving him her undivided attention, and he barely even remembers the last thing she'd said. he blinks at her, tries to figure out what to say next that doesn't give away the fact that he hasn't really been listening until he lands on, "and what have you done, as a volunteer?" he might as well find out more about this place now that showing his support by being here means he's now fifteen dollars poorer. "you think you've changed somebody's life?" threatening her, almost, to say that she, in fact, has.

Rachel didn't think explaining what she meant would be productive for the conversation, nor did she think he would actually listen to what she had to say. It felt pretty clear that he was not interested in listening and as he says something that makes no sense to her at first, she feels like trying to keep this conversation going was useless. Especially as she felt like he was being extremely disrespectful towards the whole community center. She was glad at least he had said the words to her and not to anyone else. One might think Micah was a true silver spoon retaliatory child. Though he was far too old to be considered a child now.

"It's not a house, no. A community center. There are after school activities and camps and programs of all kinds of things. Helping people with everything from learning to cook to knowing their rights when it comes to transitioning. It's a fun place, but the people there are real people and have real problems and deserve to be given respect." Rachel wouldn't say that her tone was stern or defensive, she was going for more of a patient but don't fuck with these kids tone. Whether she was succeeding in that was to be determined. She was talking with a son of a lawyer and a lawyer himself.

[whencyclopedia]

Silk in Antiquity

Silk is a fabric first produced in Neolithic China from the filaments of the cocoon of the silk worm. It became a staple source of income for small farmers and, as weaving techniques improved, the reputation of Chinese silk spread so that it became highly desired across the empires of the ancient world. As China's most important export for much of its history, the material gave its name to the great trading network the Silk Road, which connected East Asia to Europe, India, and Africa. Not only used to make fine clothes, silk was used for fans, wall hangings, banners, and as a popular alternative to paper for writers and artists.

Origins & Cultivation

Silk is produced by silk worms (Bombyx mori) to form the cocoon within which the larvae develop. A single specimen is capable of producing a 0.025 mm thick thread over 900 metres (3,000 ft) long. Several such filaments are then twisted together to make a thread thick enough to be used to weave material. Fabrics were created using looms, and treadle-operated versions appear in, for example, the murals in tombs of the Han dynasty (206 BCE - 220 CE). The silk could be dyed and painted using such minerals and natural materials as cinnabar, red ochre, powdered silver, powdered clam shells, and indigo and other inks extracted from vegetable matter.

Sericulture - that is the cultivation of mulberry leaves, the tending of silkworms, the gathering of threads from their cocoons and the weaving of silk - first appears in the archaeological record of ancient China c. 3600 BCE. Excavations at Hemudu in Zhejiang province have revealed Neolithic tools for weaving and silk gauze. The earliest known examples of woven silk date to c. 2700 BCE and come from the site of Qianshanyang, also in Zhejiang. Recent archaeological evidence suggests that the Indus Valley civilization in the north of the Indian subcontinent was also making silk contemporary with the Neolithic Chinese. They used the Antheraea moth to produce silk threads for weaving.

However, silk production on a large scale and involving more sophisticated weaving techniques would only appear from the Chinese Shang and Zhou dynasties in the 2nd millennium BCE. Silk then became one of the most important manufactured and traded goods in ancient China, and finds of Shang dynasty (c. 1600 - 1046 BCE) silk in an Egyptian tomb are testimony to its esteemed value and use in early international trade.

Continue reading...

[sluttywonwoo]

instead of you [part eight] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either. 

warnings: swearing, mentions of sex (18+ mdni), nausea (but no getting sick)

word count: 3.1k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!! ; i know minho is the chef of the group but just suspend your disbelief for this series and pretend it’s jisung

series masterlist | early access to the next chapter on ko-fi

You froze like you had been caught doing something you shouldn’t have, even though what was happening was completely innocent. Wasn’t it? Minho was acting like it was. He hadn’t even faltered in his work, still lathering sunscreen underneath the band of your swimsuit like nothing was happening.

Jisung stepped into the light, one hand shielding his eyes from the sun.

“What did I miss?” he repeated, staring directly into your eyes.

Minho spoke before you got the chance. “Nothing. Want to take over?”

“Gladly.”

Jisung’s older brother stood from where he had been sitting behind you and wiped the remaining sunscreen from his hands onto your shoulders so that Jisung could finish rubbing it in. The two switched spots, and you relaxed the tiniest bit when you felt Jisung settle behind you. His warm hands replaced Minho’s cold ones as he began covering the spots his brother had missed. They were both gentle, but you didn’t feel the same spark of energy underneath Jisung’s fingertips as you did Minho’s. Instead you felt comfort, familiarity, and the tension started to subside from your body.

“Make sure you get my neck,” you reminded your best friend quietly, still feeling slightly guilty about what had gone down just moments before.

“I know what to do,” he replied, a hint of amusement edged into his tone. “You don’t think I forgot about how easily you burn, do you?”

“You’re one to talk.”

Jisung put a hand to his chest, feigning offense. “My own girlfriend, so cruel.”

You shrugged. “You knew what you got into when you started dating me. You know I’m not nice.”

“Being nice is overrated,” he said simply, hands traveling down to your lower back. “You may not be nice, but you’re kind and that’s what’s important.”

You wished you could turn to see his face, but you were stuck in the position you were in, facing away from him.

“What’s the difference?” you asked.

“You know, like Ellen Degeneres is a nice person, but not a kind one? And some people say Gordon Ramsay is kind, but we all know he isn’t nice.”

You thought about it for a moment. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Of course it does.” Jisung tapped your arm twice. “All done.”

“Do you need me to do you?” you offered.

“No, I put some on before coming out here.”

You nodded, unsure what to do now that you were all coated in sunblock. Then it dawned on you. This was the perfect opportunity to turn your fake relationship up a notch in front of Jisung’s family. Nothing too dramatic, just some casual intimacy.

You began to lean backwards and Jisung took your cue, stretching out on the lounge chair behind you so that you could rest on top of him. You laid your head on his chest and pulled your book back out of your bag while Jisung threaded his fingers through your hair.

You listened to the steady beat of his heart and the sound of the waves crashing against the side of the boat as you read, both eventually fading into the background as you lost yourself in the pages of your book.

-

You hadn’t even realized you had drifted off until you were being shaken awake. Strong hands gripped your shoulders, shook you once, then let go.

You opened your eyes to see Minho standing above you, hands on his hips and a smile on his face.

“Wanna play a drinking game?”

“Wha-” you sat up and looked around. You were alone on the chair, you weren’t sure when Jisung had left. “Where’s Ji?”

“He’s helping with the dishes.”

“The dishes- did I miss dinner?”

“Kinda, but we saved you some leftovers.”

You rubbed your eyes, trying to focus on Minho. It had gotten dark so it was harder to see. Pink and purple hues still lingered on the horizon but they were quickly being overtaken by the stars and their inky black cloak.

“Why didn’t anyone wake me up?”

Minho shrugged. “Jisung told us not to,” he replied. “So are you in or not?”

“Yeah, sure I’ll play,” you agreed.

“Great.”

Minho held out a hand to help you up and you accepted. He hoisted you up with more force than you were expecting, so much so that you were falling in the other direction. He caught you before you slammed your face into his bare chest, thank god. As if you hadn’t already had enough awkward encounters with your best friend’s brother.

“Easy, there,” he chuckled.

“Sorry.”

“You can’t be falling over before we’ve even started drinking!”

You just laughed and let him lead you down the steps to the lower deck. There was a ping-pong table on one side of the enclosed patio and a foosball table on the other. In the middle sat an outside dining table littered with half-full glasses of various beverages. Felix was seated there scrolling on his phone, but he smiled when he saw you and pocketed it.

“Long time, no see,” he said with a smirk. “Did you get sunburned?”

“No, Jisung reapplied her sunscreen before we played soccer, remember?” Minho answered for you.

He had? You had no memory of that, obviously. And they had played soccer? Damn, you had really underestimated your ability to sleep through everything.

“Oh, right,” Felix said, sounding a little disappointed. Jerk.

“I can see you got some sun, though,” you shot back, returning his little grin. He covered his red cheeks self-consciously and glared at you. “Now I can’t tell if you’re blushing or not.”

“Jisung, your girlfriend is bullying me!” Felix hollered through the open sliding glass door.

“Good.” You relaxed a little when your best friend appeared in the entryway. He grinned at you and his twin. “Glad to see you two getting along.”

You joined Jisung by his side and kissed him once on the lips. He tensed the tiniest bit, imperceptible to everyone but you, the only indicator that gave away his surprise. He recovered by pulling you closer and wrapping an arm around your waist before breaking away.

“So,” he said, keeping his hand on your hip nonchalantly, “what are we playing?”

“Fun Facts.”

“What’s that?” you asked.

“Everyone gets a few strips of paper and writes down facts about themselves that no one else in the group knows,” Minho explained. “We crumple them all up, put them in a bowl and each take turns picking facts out and reading them out loud. When it’s your turn, you have to match the fact to the person who wrote it. If you’re right, they drink. If you’re wrong, you drink.”

“That’s not fair, you guys have known each other all your lives!” you complained.

“And we don’t know anything about you,” Minho countered, “aside from Jisung. I think that levels the playing field.”

“Whatever,” you mumbled.

“She’s competitive,” Jisung added with a squeeze to your side.

“Couldn’t tell,” Minho mused with a smirk.

You took a seat at the table across from Felix while Jisung made you both a drink. Minho sat next to you and when Jisung returned he sat on your other side. Felix folded sheets of notebook paper into thin sections and ripped them up before passing them around the table along with a pen for everybody.

As soon as everyone had a drink and some paper in front of them Minho set a timer on his phone and everyone began brainstorming their facts.

You tried to think of things about yourself that Jisung didn’t know, but came up short. You had no filter when it came to him. You always told him everything, even when he didn’t want to hear it.

He knew about your dating life, your sex life, your daddy issues. You texted him updates every time you got a UTI. There was practically nothing he didn’t know about you so you knew you had to dig deep. Minho and Felix were done with theirs before you had even gotten to your second fact.

At least you could take comfort in the fact that Minho was struggling too. His pen hovered above an empty strip of paper like he was waiting for the answer to write itself. He had two folded and off to the side already, but had reached a breaking point.

You both also had to consider what you couldn’t tell his brothers. Things that would mess with the timeline you had so carefully constructed or create suspicion about your relationship.

Minho’s timer went off and he looked up at you expectantly. “Everyone ready?”

The rest of you nodded and passed Minho their slips. You could only hope the facts you chose were good enough, and that they wouldn’t get you into any trouble. He grabbed the decorative glass bowl from the middle of the table and replaced the ceramic pieces of fruit with the crumpled paper. He mixed the contents with his hand and then offered the bowl to you.

“Guests first.”

You took the bowl from his hands and plucked a fact strip from the mix.

“I cried on my first date.”

You scanned the faces around the table, trying to see if their expressions gave it away, but they were unreadable. The boys were smiling at each other, making faces, it was impossible to discern who it could be about.

You ruled out Jisung because he had told you about his first date before. The details were fuzzy, but you knew he didn’t cry. All you remembered was that he had gotten to touch the girls boobs, but then her mom walked in on them and kicked him out.

That left you with either Felix or Minho. You didn’t know much about either of them so you decided to go with your gut.

“Minho.”

He looked at you with wide eyes. “How’d you know?”

“Lucky guess.”

“Bro, come on,” Felix chided, shoving his older brother.

“Okay, this is why I didn’t tell you guys. I knew you’d give me shit for it!”

“Yeah, because you deserve it.”

“In my defense, we went to see a Pixar movie,” he explained. “I was done for before the title sequence even played.”

“That’s your fault for picking Pixar,” Jisung insisted.

“Trust me, I know.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something, Minho?” you asked. He gave you a blank stare, blinking at you in confusion until you made a drinking motion with your hand. “Drink up.”

“Right. Cheers.”

He raised his glass then took a big sip. You passed the bowl to Jisung. He picked one from the top and read it aloud.

“I didn’t read a single book that was assigned in school. Easy. Felix.”

“Hey!”

“Drink. I’m right.”

“How’d you know it was me?” Felix demanded.

“We took all of the same classes, dumbass. You were always cheating off of me.”

Felix reluctantly took a sip of his drink and grabbed the glass bowl from Jisung.

“When I was in sixth grade my mom caught me looking up ‘boobs’ on the family computer.”

“Classic,” Jisung said while his twin brother shook his head. “Rookie mistake.”

Felix surveyed all of the players before picking. “Minho.”

Minho shook his head. “I was never caught.”

“So who is it?”

You smiled sheepishly and raised your hand. “It was me.”

“What?”

“Not proud of it, but yeah,” you admitted. “That’s not even the only time it happened to me either.”

“What do you mean?” Jisung cried. “Please tell me your mom didn’t catch you twice.”

“No one taught me how to erase your search history!” you said defensively.

“But you didn’t learn your lesson the first time?”

You ducked your head. “No.”

Jisung was doubled over with laughter at that point and you were sinking further and further in your chair. So far yours was the most embarrassing one and you didn’t think you’d ever be able to live it down.

“What was the other time?” Minho asked boldly.

You muttered the answer under your breath.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“Looking up ‘girls kissing’,” you mumbled again, this time loud enough for them to hear.

“You’re fucking kidding,” Felix gasped in awe.

“I wish I was- anyway, Felix drink.”

The bowl was passed around the table a few more times and you finally got to drink on Jisung’s turn when he correctly guessed that you were the one to have slept with a nightlight until you graduated high school. You knew that drinking on an empty stomach was probably a bad idea, but you’d also been going to college for enough years to know your limit. So you thought.

It was your turn again. The game was down to the last four slips and Minho was winning by one. This was your chance to tie the game.

“I slept with a girl whose name I never learned and still don’t know,” you read before answering automatically. “Minho.”

He made the most sense to you, he was the movie star. You were sure he’d have to have done it at least once, if not multiple times. But he shook his head no.

“What?”

“Drink up, babe,” Jisung said, smiling almost victoriously.

“What the fuck?” Your anger slipped out before you could stop it. Jisung was always chastising you for sleeping with strangers but apparently he had been doing the same thing all along. You chugged the rest of your drink bitterly to make a point. Perhaps it was a bit too fast for your own good, but you didn’t care.

You knew Jisung was tired of picking you up from one night stands, tired of warning you of the dangers of going home with someone you didn’t know. You knew he worried about you and that he had your best interest in mind, but you couldn’t help but feel judged every time you were on the receiving end of one of his lectures. Sure, it was more dangerous for women to have casual sex than it was for men, but that didn’t change the fact that Jisung was taking part in upholding the double standard.

“It was before we got together, obviously,” Jisung reasoned. His smile had fallen from his face.

“I should hope so!”

“Baby,” he whispered, reaching for your hand. You fought the urge to pull away. “Y/n, it was a long time ago.”

“It’s still an asshole thing to do.”

He knew you weren’t talking about the name thing anymore. You wondered if his brothers had caught on too.

“I know.”

You stared at him for another moment, ignoring all of the things he was trying to tell you with his eyes. “I need some air.”

You stood from your seat and made your way back up the stairs to the top deck. You had already been outside, but you needed to put some distance in between yourself and Jisung before you said anything you might have regretted.

You leaned against one of the railings and watched the dark water churn below, thinking about what might lie beneath the surface. The salty air was refreshing, just what you needed. You took a few deep breaths to try and slow your racing pulse. You didn’t think you had ever been so mad at Jisung, and the thought frightened you. It was over something so… arguably inconsequential too. Something that had happened years ago. Why make a big deal out of it?

Most of the lights on the boat had been turned off by now, making the stars look like they had been multiplied tenfold. You had gone stargazing with Jisung and your other friends a couple of times back at home, but none of those experiences compared to this. You remembered packing up Jisung’s car with blankets and booze one of you had bought off of an upperclassman, maybe a joint or two if you were feeling fancy, and driving out to the lake near campus. Your friends called it Corpse Lake because one time detectives had found a body in it. It was only once, but it was enough to earn it the nickname.

You and your friends were the only people ever there in the dead of night, laying your blankets in the sand and drinking cheap beer as you listened to music and got high. You liked it because of how dark it was. The closest lights were all the way across the lake which made it an ideal spot for stargazing. You remembered thinking no night sky would ever beat that one. Boy, how you had been wrong.

The sound of footsteps approached behind you and you turned around, ready to tell Jisung off, but it was Minho.

“I, uh, wanted to check on you,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets.

He’d changed out of his swimsuit into sweats. Meanwhile you were still wearing your bikini and it was starting to get cold.

“Did Jisung send you?”

“No.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Does it matter?” he asked. “One of us cares about you.”

You sighed. “I know I’m overreacting, and I feel bad for making a scene-”

“Hey,” Minho interrupted softly, “you didn’t do any of that.”

“You don’t have to say that.”

“I’m not just saying it,” he insisted. You didn’t respond. “I promise. You have every right to be upset. Jisung was out of line.”

“Why do I feel like there’s going to be a ‘but’?”

Minho smiled. “Because he’s my little brother and I have to defend him even when he doesn’t deserve it. But you know that happened a long time ago, and I think he’s not that kind of person anymore.”

“I know he’s not,” you agreed.

“Oh.” Minho sounded surprised.

“It’s just…” I am.

“It’s just what?”

You knew you couldn’t tell him. You weren’t sure if you’d be able to tell him even if you weren’t supposed to be dating his brother. Old feelings, old secrets, the shame associated with sexuality and sexual expression were threatening to surface again and you felt it was something you needed to hide. You had gotten so good at talking openly about it, so good at embracing it- but now you were forcing yourself back into a box based on what you thought a perfect girlfriend was. You felt dizzy.

“Y/n?” Minho prompted when you didn’t answer, concern etched across his features.

“I’m, um, I’m actually not feeling very well,” you admitted and clutched the railing even harder. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

Minho’s eyes widened in both panic and realization. “You never had those leftovers did you?” You shook your head. “Alright, c’mere,” he said and peeled you off of the balcony, slinging your arm around his neck like you were a wounded soldier. “Let’s go to the kitchen and get you a snack or something.”

“Okay,” you agreed quietly and let him lead you back inside.

sorry for the break! lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

iou tags: @sluttywoozi @gimmeurtmi @phobia0325 @fwess @hipsdofafangirl @galaxleeknow @urmomma0324 @bangmechanpls @102598s @farfromsugafanfic @ritzy-roo @dimpledsatan @bvselines @wonderfulshinee @imwithurmother @smollquokka @rosexjimin @skizzel @endzii23 @lady-lena @kwanisms @ch4nniebang @lilramennoodle @babyphotos0325 @dearalice @sojohns @mistlitmoonlight @yoontaethings @babebatter @mal-lunar-28 @shy-kisu @zerefdragn33l @downbadreading @sana-within-you @saquso @bunnispaces @reianagarcia @hyunehans @imtoooyoungforthisshit @i8rsie @honeslykindahorny @214racha @hgema @chillllllli @vixensss @smhlino @feiyaa @borahae-reads @bigbearenergy @hoodiesandicedcoffee @darkacademic2512 @y00nzin0 @bunnispaces @i8yul @shinypieceofgarbage @woozarts @just-a-little-delulu @djeniryuu @hbzzzbork000 @mimzibee @sofiaslayed @kangyounghyunhands @lexxxxs-things

add yourself to the taglist here!

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Saturday, November 16

WILLOW: It is nice. He's great. We have a lot of fun. But I want smoochies! BUFFY: Have you dropped any hints? WILLOW: I've dropped anvils.

~~BtVS 2x15 “Phases”~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Haunting Echoes (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) by veronyxk84

Secrets (Drusilla/Lilah, not rated) by Nymue

I Am (Buffy, not rated) by Nymue

[Russian language] Баффи Саммерс выходит замуж (Buffy/Angel, T) by B_E_S

Vengeance (Buffy/Angel, E) by Belladamon29

Tell Me (Buffy/Angel, E) by evesock

Midnight streak (Angel/Cordelia, Buffy/Spike, T) by Bl4ckHunter

"Are You Trying To Get Yourself Killed!" (Giles/Jenny, M) by Alexistiel

wolves of my want (Cordelia/Faith, T) by mistyheartrbs

Saturday 9:13 pm (Buffy/Giles, M) by Sdhuskerfan

[Chaptered Fiction]

Shadowed Suspicion Chapter 349 (Jojo's Bizarre Adventure xover, T) by madimpossibledreamer

The Ripperverse AU, Chapters 1-3/6 (Giles, ensemble, E) by AvicusKing

In the Company of Witches and Slayers:, Chapter 172/200 (Willow/Tara, E) by VladimirHarkonnen (TheLightdancer)

[Ukrainian language] Forward to Time Past//Вперед у час минулий, Chapter 65/67 (Buffy/Spike, E) translation by Uraniya

BtVS : Judgement Day, Chapter 6/? (Buffy, Terminator xover, not rated) by AntonioCC

Out of Time: 1942, Chapter 60/? (Buffy/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter xover, M) by Aynn_Ward

Bring Me To Life : A Buffy the Vampire Slayer / Angel Crossover Event, Chapter 72/? (Buffy/Angel, not rated) by Jean_theGuardian

Okay Dad, Chapter 3/6 (Ensemble, T) by Work

The Yellowstone: A Safe Harbor, Chapter 12/? (Ensemble, Yellowstone xover, G) by Buffyworldbuilder

Painting Flowers, Chapter 7/? (Buffy/Angel, T) by crowncitydreams

Ghosts of Sunnydale, Chapter 2/? (Buffy/Spike, T) by VThinksOn

Soul Mate Magic, Chapter 18/20 (Giles/OC, M) by Emma_M_Black

Indecent Proposal, Chapter 10 (Buffy/William/Xander, M) by thetherealman

Bring Me To Life, Chapter 77 (Buffy/Angel, T) by Jean-theGuardian

Double date, Chapter 11 (Buffy/Giles, M) by Rippertish

Incarnate, Chapter 22 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Sigyn

Little Light, Chapter 17 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Melme1325

A Man in Shadow, Chapter 4 (Buffy/Spike, 13+) by Zab Jade

Christmas at the Folly, Story 1: Room 3 (Buffy/Spike, 13+) by myrabeth

[Images, Audio & Video]

Artwork: faith/drusilla commission (worksafe) by loopnoid

Gifset: Every Tara look: S5E06 Family (worksafe) by lovebvffys

Artwork: [Doodle of Spike] (swear words, worksafe) by yarboyandy

Crafts: Bored now [cross-stitch pattern] (worksafe) by batstitchnerdycrossstitch

Artwork: [Drawing of Spike] (worksafe) by isevery0nehereverystoned

Artwork: Collage # 236 (Buffy, worksafe) by thedecadentraven

Gifset: If anything could fall at all, it’s the world That falls away from me (Buffy, S1-S5 finale parallels, worksafe) by theveryunlikelywonderland

Gifset: (im)perfect for you… (Buffy/Spike, worksafe) by clarkgriffon

Cosplay: Ready to start casting spells? (Vamp Willow cosplay, worksafe) by lauren-delorean

Gifset: Lifter Puller by Atmosphere (Buffy/Angel, worksafe) by andremichaux

Costume: Willow Cosplay - Lauren DeLorean (worksafe) by lauren_delorean

Demon design: From the Archives: Ubervamp (Turok-Han) - Buffy the Vampire Slayer Season 7 (worksafe) by Christopher Burdett

[Reviews & Recaps]

Angel - Episode 5.11 – Damage by rock-and-compass

PODCAST: S4. Ep15. Orpheus Ft. Prophecy Girls Podcast by Investigating Angel

[In Search Of]

ISO: Original Buffy DVD sets still in production? requested by Bright_Wolverine_490

[Community Announcements]

Revamped IWRY Marathon 2024 — week two masterpost by iwillrememberyoumarathon

12 Days of Calendilesmas: Asks open from now till 25th November! by hal-1500

Secret Santa: Sign Up Thread by nightshade

[Fandom Discussions]

BtVS - Redemption Through Violation by itsnotmymind

Cordelia Chase [ask game] by moistvonlipwig

[POLL] Pick your favorite of Wesley’s two main ships by ohrupie

HOW ID REWRITE ANGEL: THE SERIES by xaeyrnofnbe

[POLL] BTVS Fans: Pop Quiz hot shot! by juanabaloo

Wait so Angel (sadly) is the shadow of her father in the form of her romantic brooding hero by magpie-trove

Angel should have fallen in love with Giles. by thequeenofsastiel

[POLL] Choose your favorite of these mostly comedic, self-contained (non-arc–I refuse to call them “filler” :)) BtVS episodes! by ohrupie

sooooo many thoughts on buffy constantly telling spike to leave her alone when she’s clearly enjoying his company by lesbianmarrow

Tara was a true friend buffy deserved by Jamieo1111

Does Angel The Series have superior fight scenes to Buffy? by LouvrePigeon

Buffy is insane by No_Introduction_4136

Buffy resurrection question by

I love Primeval as a season finale simply because… by _theoneandonlyyyy

Which old horror movie franchises do you think inspired Buffy and Angel the most? by PlaneAutomatic4965

The fandom's changing reaction to Willow... by stillhavehope99

I don’t care want anyone says, Giles is a trusted adult. by Familiar_Recover8112

What's something you choose to ignore in the Buffyverse? by PristineSituation498

what's the worst Buffy remake you could imagine by alb5357

[Articles, Interviews, and Other News]

PUBLICATION: The Top 10 Buffy The Vampire Slayer Secondary Characters Ranked From Least To Most Powerful by Looper.com

PUBLICATION: The 15 Best Willow and Tara Episodes in Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Ranked by CBR.com

Submit a link to be included in the newsletter!

Join the editor team :)

[atlasnolanarchive]

Atlas had to push himself up on his tippy-toes so that he could see Mikey clearly over the Jenga they were playing, an eyebrow quirking at him as a small scale fear was realised.

( Death by Jenga collapse. )

"Soft though, yeah?" He's not actually sure such a thing existed, but he's certain one or both of them would find out by the end of the match.

When Mikey places his piece on top, Atlas takes a cautious step back, in case a sway of the tower causes a fall that didn't happen. So far, sturdy. With his turn again, he decides to be a little bolder, moving a right side piece from the fourth row up with caused a wobble that had him freezing with the piece in his hands in case further movement might rush the demise.

When a collapsing Jenga piece didn't hit his back, he places his at the very top, the structural integrity further disintegrating from the weight.

"You ever seen Godzilla?" Atlas says then as he drifts closer to where Mikey was, every impulse in his mind telling him to headbutt the stack to see what would happen.

"When he destroys the city? Just levels it with his big body. I could do that with this."

@miikcs

          “ We should have gone for the water balloon darts, ” Mikey supplied, sighing dramatically ( fake and unconvincing, that’s the thing ). It was one to play this game on top of a table, and another when the entire massive stack was sitting on a giant board. The game? Giant Jenga — not as tall as them, roughly about five foot seven, ish, Mikey guess-estimated. “ Alright, ” he decided, approaching the giant stack and carefully going for the middle block, mid-stack. “ Not that I’m complaining, ” Mikey remarked, placing the block on top of the neat pile. “ But they should have used lightweight material for this — this is actual wood, man. ”

[slidersimp]

Dog Football

A ficlet set in the same universe (au? narrative thread? story? Idk y'all) as my fic at my side in which Maverick gets a service dog named Tess for his PTSD post-TGM and the daggers fall in love with her immediately. Ft. occasional fun shenanigans to break up the sad emo content.

——

When Maverick looked up at a shadow covering his beach chair, the sound of footsteps on sand coming to a stop beside him, he wasn’t surprised to see Admiral Simpson standing beside him, hands on his hips as he surveyed the beach in front of them. He was surprised, however, to see the relaxed smile on the Admiral’s face. It was true they weren’t under a deadly time crunch like they had been the last time this little scene had played out, with the mission and all its disastrous consequences looming over all their heads, but a smile still wasn’t something he expected out of the Admiral under most circumstances. He was even more surprised when the Admiral glanced behind him, then sat down in the sand beside Maverick’s chair, uniform and all.

“Dogfight football?” Simpson asked, nodding towards the aviators in front of them.

At the waterline, the daggers were racing over the sand, throwing footballs between them and shouting. Since the last time they’d played, they’d started to get more of a handle on the game, figuring out something of a strategy, but the longer they went on, the more it descended into chaos. Not to mention a certain curveball that the aviators had been all too happy to introduce.

“Not quite.” Maverick told the admiral, his eyes on a single figure within the group. “Dog football. They came up with it themselves.”

The daggers had opted to keep both footballs, though at least one of them—or both, for one rather comical moment—was almost always in the mouth of a certain German Shepherd, Tess. Maverick watched the daggers chasing her into the water while they scrambled with the other ball, trying to lead her over to their respective sides or entice her back to the field of play. He wasn’t sure Tess had any idea what the rules were, but she was running circles around the daggers, evading their grabs for the ball and lighting up cheers of triumph or shouts of dismay whenever she raced into an endzone marked by a line carved into the sand.

“It looks like they’re still doing offense and defense.” Simpson observed. They watched Coyote take a sliding dive for Tess, grabbing for the football in her mouth before she dodged away, tail wagging. “Did they add any new rules for her?”

Maverick shrugged. “I’m not sure I understand it anymore, to be honest. They’re not allowed to tackle her, but that’s my rule.” 

Simpson nodded. “Smart.”

“And, I think if she scores in an endzone it gives the team more points than if a human scores.” 

Maverick watched Rooster rush past Tess, lightly shoving her playfully, lunging away and continuing to run to lure her to follow him. She was hot on his heels as he raced towards his endzone until Phoenix whistled loudly, slapping her thighs and calling for her to come her way instead. Rooster hurried to redirect her with his own calls and Maverick and Cyclone watched the opposing struggle until Payback and Fanboy slid in the sand to reach Tess, fighting to wrestle the football from her grip.

“It’s been a lot of this.” Maverick told Cyclone.

Shouts erupted from the sand as Fanboy pried the football from Tess’s jaws, nearly dropping it in the sand. He scrambled to get control of it, tossing it to Hangman before Phoenix could snatch it from his hands.

“Tess! Go long!” Jake was at the back of the pack, but he raised the ball and Tess knew exactly what he was offering, taking off sprinting towards the other end of the sectioned off patch of sand. He threw the ball hard and the aviators all watched it fly, the other football forgotten.

Tess caught the pass in the air, landing just beyond the line marking the end zone and the aviators erupted into a chaos of cheers and screams. Maverick watched Rooster nearly knock Hangman to the ground as he launched himself at him with a shout of triumph. Hondo’s whistle singled the end of the game, and Cyclone patted Maverick’s shoulder.

“Keep up the good work.” 

Maverick grinned. “It’s good to see you, Admiral.”

[superwings-cultural]

Traditions and Events: The Dragon Dance - China

The Dragon Dance (local name being 舞龍, or wǔ lóng) is a traditionnal and ancient performal dance practiced in Chinese culture, as the same way as the Lion Dance (more infos about it there), it is more often see during festivities, like the Lunar New Year. This dance is performed by a team of expert dancers, manipulating a giant dragon figure, the dance team simulates the imagined movements of this river spirit in a sinuous, undulating manner.

The dragon dance is, as said earlier, often performed during Chinese New Year. Chinese dragon is an important symbol of China's culture, and they are believed to bring good luck to people, therefore the longer the dragon is in the dance, the more luck it will bring to the community. The dragons are believed to possess qualities that include great power, dignity, fertility, wisdom and auspiciousness. The appearance of a dragon is both fearsome and bold but it has a benevolent disposition, and it was an emblem to represent imperial authority. The movements in a performance traditionally symbolize the power and dignity of the dragon.

The origin of the Dragon Dance was most set during the Han Dynasty, were multiples texts described different form of dances, mostly associated with rain. According to a Han dynasty texts, these rituals was made to call two dragon deities: Yinglong and Shenlong, who each one bring rain and wind for the people.

There is also others form of dances involving these creatures, more as a popular and entertainment form. One of theses examples is the Baixi (百戲), when there are dancers called "mime people" dressed up as various creatures, including the dragon, and also a fish-dragon creature, mentionned in those dances. However, theses Ancient dances does not reflect the modern dragon Dance, stated in the illustration stones from the Han period.

Objects like dragon lanterns (龍燈) and figures are also disposed for the dance preparations, the lanterns are carried long the path the dance is mostly held.

The dragon is a long serpentine body formed of a number of sections on poles, with a dragon head and a tail. It is assembled by joining the series of hoops on each section and attaching the ornamental head and tail pieces at the ends. Traditionally, dragons were constructed of wood, with bamboo hoops on the inside and covered with a rich fabric, however in the modern era lighter materials such as aluminium and plastics have replaced the wood and heavy material.

The normal length and size of the body recommended for the dragon is 34 metres (110 ft) and is divided into nine major sections. The distance of each minor (rib-like) section is 35 cm (14 in) apart; therefore, the body has 81 rings. Many may also be up to 15 sections long, and some dragons are as long as 46 sections. Occasionally, dragons with far more sections may be constructed in Chinese communities around the world to produce the longest dragon possible, since part of the myth of the dragon is that the longer the creature, the more luck it will bring.

Historically the dragon dance may be performed in a variety of ways with different types and colours of dragon. Green is sometimes selected as a main colour of the dragon, which symbolizes a great harvest. Other colours include: yellow, symbolizing the solemn empire; gold or silver, symbolizing prosperity; red, representing excitement. The dragon's scales and tail are mostly beautiful silvery and glittery to create a joyous atmosphere.

The dragon dance is performed by a skilled team whose job is to bring the motionless puppet body to life. The correct combination and proper timing of the different parts of the dragon are very important to make a successful dance.

The patterns of the dragon dance are choreographed according to the skills and experiences acquired by the performers. Some of the patterns of the dragon dance are "Cloud Cave", "Whirlpool", tai chi pattern, "threading the money", "looking for pearl", and "dragon encircling the pillar". The movement "dragon chasing the pearl" shows that the dragon is continually in the pursuit of wisdom.

The Dragon Dance is one of the most popular practice in the world that competion performances have been organized, those events have stricts rules involving the dragon movements and the routine performance. It is also performed in others countries, mostly in Asia like Japan, Vietnam and Indonesia.

[bookgeekgrrl]

My media this week (9-15 Feb 2025)

his little smirk delights me

📚 STUFF I READ 📚

😤 A Family Affair (Nero Wolfe #46) (Rex Stout, author; Michael Prichard, narrator) - forever mad this contains so much period-typical misogyny towards feminists & a rape 'joke' bc otherwise it's one of my very fave in this series! dammit, rex!

😍😍 Notebook No. 6 series (magdaliny) - 56K, stucky - incredible post-WS recovery fic - this should be a classic of the fandom, up there with infinite coffee, ithlyn and 4mw. I am changed for reading it. essentially an epistolary story, since he was writing for someone. Bucky's voice was incredible: funny and devastating, often at the same time, which felt both very real & very Jewish (complimentary). in my stucky bookclub, someone said that reading this felt like they were reading Literature and I don't disagree (esp with at least one direct allusion to Joyce's Ulysses). if you are a stucky/WS fan and haven't read this, don't wait any longer.

😊 Rear Admiral ('Nathan Burgoine) - entertaining, mostly pwp short story: "Can one average nurse and his way-more-than-average crush make it work? Russ figures there’s one way to find go big or go home." You know how after you read something incredible (see above) you gotta switch gears to the complete opposite? yeah, that.

😊 Stick Handling (Kit Olmstead) - fussy fashion reporter + hockey player who makes him undergo the mortifying ordeal of being known. def a grumpy/sunshine vibe, entertaining read

🥰 The New York Avengers series (Brenda) - 54K stucky baseball AU: 2nd chance, friends-to-lovers-to-enemies-to-(finally) lovers, lots of baseball details & loads of fantastic graphic & multimedia aspects, like you don't see much these days tbh

🥰 Sweeten to Taste (saintgarbanzo, author; babooshk_art, artist) - 51K drarry set immediately after canon. some really interesting musings about retributive v restorative justice. Plus amazing food writing

🥰 Mine is the Shining Future (brideofquiet) - 48K, Stucky, pre-WWII no powers AU; reread, absolutely stellar fic

💖💖 +76K of shorter fic so shout out to these I really loved 💖💖

dinluke lawyer au #1 (spqr) - Star Wars: dinluke, 31K - absolutely fantastic au, all the details (especially han) were *chef's kiss*

📺 STUFF I WATCHED 📺

The Sam Sanders Show - Inside the Secret Vocal Techniques of Top Singers (ft. Doug Peck)

Would I Lie to You - s18, e5

Taskmaster - s18, e10

Handsome - Pretty Little Episode #26

Handsome - Paul Simon & Edie Brickell ask about love

One Song - Led Zeppelin's "Whole Lotta Love"

Um, Actually - s10, e2

THE MUPPET SCRIPT

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem

Only Murders In The Building - s1, e7-10; s2 & s3

D20: Dungeons & Drag Queens - "The Battle For Darktide" (s2, e6)

D20: Adventuring Party - "In The Nick of Twine" (s19, e6)

🎧 PODCASTS 🎧

Pop Culture Happy Hour - 2025 Super Bowl

Vibe Check - Cheers, Queerleaders!

Short Wave - The Dangers Of Mirror Cell Research

You're Dead to Me - Causes of the British Civil Wars: Royalists versus Parliamentarians

Pop Culture Happy Hour - Guide To Great Shows On Network TV

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Unusual Loves Stories Week: Hachiko

Pop Pantheon - DIANA ROSS PT. 1: THE SUPREMES & DIANA ROSS PT. 2: THE SOLO YEARS (with Hit Parade's Chris Molanphy)

Vibe Check - Can We Talk About F*cking Eggs?! featuring Tim Miller

99% Invisible - Your Own Personal Jesus

Today, Explained - Tater bot

Decoder Ring - The Scratch-Off Ticket’s Instant Win

Imaginary Worlds - Filk Fusion: Where Sci-Fi Meets Folk Music

Switched on Pop - Does It Trance? The Weeknd & FKA Twigs

Persuasion by Jane Austen - Persuasion 10. | Family Connections

Short History Of… - Beatrix Potter

It's Been a Minute - Eggs are expensive, but are they safe?

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Unusual Love Stories Week: Post Office Bay

Endless Thread - Love in 60 Seconds

You're Dead to Me - The Arts and Crafts Movement: William Morris and his circle

The Curious History of Your Home - Ovens

Today, Explained - The making of a beauty king

Pop Culture Happy Hour - Captain America: Brave New World And What's Making Us Happy

99% Invisible - The Power Broker Breakdown Wrap-Up

Wait Wait… Don't Tell Me! - WWDTM: GWAR

🎶 MUSIC 🎶

Only Murders In The Building (Original Score, Seasons 1-4)

Finally Enough Love: 50 Number Ones [Madonna] {2022}

Philly Soul Soothers

Classic Disco Hits

Juliana Hatfield covers

[mohanmax]

‎ JASMINE TEA AND A REGULAR LATTE. clearly, neither are here to enjoy the other's company, and to no one's surprise. max never lost any sleep over the fact that he and rachel never really got to be friends, or at least, nobody ever tried. right now, he needs something from her, just as she'd needed something from him all those decads ago, something that could very well do without the standard niceties (he doubts she has any real interest in how he really has been, nor is he inclined to answer that in any truthful manner at all) but at least this way he could even the odds. even though trying to have an entire publication step back from doing an exposé on his family's company is a much bigger ask than a sit-down interview for a class requirement.

so he humors her. "i'm alright. the club's doing well. i'm building a studio behind my house. elijah falvey's helping." she might know him, one way or another. perhaps as a neighbor, a friend, or in the same way his husband knew the guy before max had found his name in the local business directory as . "how's keeping print alive going?" it comes out a little snappier than he would've liked, but he figures it could serve as a good segue for what he's about to ask from her, also doubles as a quiet reassurance for himself that nobody reads the fucking paper anymore, that none of this matters enough to infringe upon press freedom or whatever it is he thinks rachel might invoke.

She wasn't sure if Max was trying to let her know he was on tight schedule and he was doing her a favor by giving her the time of day. Or perhaps he was trying to tell Rachel that she didn't need to worry he wouldn't be taking up her time. Really it could go either way in her opinion. She watched him wave down a barista, knowing that wasn't really how the cafe worked, but of course she shouldn't be too surprised that Max made it work for him that way. Rachel gave the familiar barista a smile, watching as Max pets Tom, smiling faintly at the gesture for a moment distracted before realizing Max was waiting for her to order. "Oh! Right, just my regular latte, Frankie, please." Rachel moved to meet Max's eyes now as she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "So, how have you been?" She figured it was at least worth a try to catch up, even though she figured that her straight to the point acquaintance would cut that notion off.

[its-spongewinxmashups]

SPECIALZ Megamix (King Gnu & Various Artists mashup)

My first attempt in creating a mashup of a song from an anime. There will be more to come.

Songs;

SPECIALZ by King Gnu (Instrumental and Acapella)

Paint The Town Red by Doja Cat (Acapella)

Immortals by Fall Out Boy (Acapella)

Perfect Illusion by Lady Gaga (Acapella)

House of Memories by Panic! At The Disco (Acapella) [Video: Death of a Bachelor]

Mojabi Ghost by Tainy ft. Bad Bunny (Acapella)

Circus by Britney Spears (Acapella)

I Revive by Han Seung Yun (Acapella)

Beggin For Thread by BANKS (Acapella)

There For You by Martin Garrix ft. Troye Sivan (Acapella)

and

Greedy by Tate Mcrae (Acapella)

And yes, I did sneak in an ad-lib in the intro. That part is from Let's Try by Khaotung Thanawat.

I hope you enjoyed the track. Don't forget to like, comment, share and subscribe. I own nothing but my interpretation of this mashup idea.

[scftlightz]

❝ —tag dump for RALEIGH HAN! ❞ 🌿

* raleigh 〳ship 

* raleigh 〳visuals

* raleigh 〳musing

* raleigh 〳wants

* raleigh 〳texts

* raleigh 〳thread

* raleigh 〳ft. 

* raleigh 〳verse ( + ) 

* raleigh 〳listen

* raleigh 〳connection