#two hands Korean corn dogs

[thegirl-in3z]

korean corn dog

[confessional-dashboard]

The Korean corn dog place has been around since 1909???

Auguste Rodin. Two Hands, 1909.

[brehumphres]

cheezy Korean corn dog

[do-u-really-wanna-know]

2✋️

[articalclub]

The Tempting Delight of Korean Corn Dogs: A Fusion of Flavors in Orlando

In the vibrant culinary scene of Orlando, where diverse flavors from around the world harmoniously coexist, one street food delicacy has been making waves – the Korean Corn Dog. With its enticing combination of crispy exterior READ MORE

[esmedelacroix]

6 days til' Christmas

barely surviving morning and day sickness with help from husband!miguel o'hara⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

7 days til' christmas ← previous part

--------------------------------------------------------

The moment your eyes opened the only word that could describe the way you were feeling was: discomfort. The room was spinning and all you wanted was a bottle of water. But even water was making you feel sicker just thinking about it. You were drenched in sweat, it felt like honey on your skin the way your hair stuck to your forehead and neck.

Your lips felt like all moisture had been sucked out of them with a freeze-dryer. You felt oddly frail like you could barely move your limbs. You started having morning sickness days ago but not at this level of intensity.

You look at your alarm which read [4:00], which was far too early for Miguel to be at work. You felt his side of the bed and thankfully he was there and not saving other universes. You woke him up by shaking him. "Miguel I don't feel well," you started as his eyes began to open slowly.

Before you could get any more words out, you felt your stomach do a backflip. You quickly stumbled into your bathroom crouched over the toilet and vomited.

You hadn't even eaten but you couldn't stop. Miguel rushed to your side with water but the moment you took a huge much-needed sip, you started vomiting again. Miguel felt like he couldn't do anything but watch and be there for you and rub your back. "Small sips, take small sips mama," Miguel said softly.

You took the tiniest sips of water. Miguel put both of his hands on your shoulders and looked deep into your eyes. "Close your eyes, and just breathe in, and out," he said, his voice getting softer.

He exaggerated his breaths, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth and you joined him and you felt a lot more calm. He ran his hand through your hair and massaged your scalp. "I'll take the day off from work, this seems like those stomach bugs you get sometimes but if you think maybe you need to go to the hospital, I'll take you there," he assured.

"Thank you for always taking care of me bae," you said as you wrapped your arms around him.

"Of course amor," he answered as he planted a kiss on your temple.

"C'mon let's find something to eat. No pickles," he joked as he helped you get up.

Miguel only let you have bread for breakfast and you had to take the smallest bites so you wouldn't vomit it all out. Why do they call it morning sickness when it hits at random parts of the day? You asked yourself in the afternoon when you vomited again after eating some soup.

Miguel was insisting that you have hot meals at night and just stick to eating cold things during the day. You didn't know how he knew exactly what to do. But he just did, and you were thankful for that.

On top of your sickness, you were also constipated. It was a rough day, but you called your doctor about what to do. You decided to take a walk with Miguel to increase your bowel movements and you drank a lot more water than usual.

You had a long way to go in getting used to your 'morning' sickness. But you knew you could get through it with Miguel's help. "Hey, I really want a corn dog," you blurted out as the two of you sat in your living room doing a puzzle. You usually had wine on nights like this but you insisted on just having water.

"That's random, what kind?" he answered.

"The one from that store in Chinatown," you said.

"Two hands?" Miguel asked.

"Yeah Two Hands Korean corn dogs, that's the name of the place," you said.

"Okay, but I'm not sure how you'll do in the car so we'll order it here, you're still a little sick," he said as he took his phone out.

"Thanks," you said as you kissed his cheek.

Everything went crashing and burning that morning, but things were starting to look up. Besides, it was only 5 more days until Christmas anyway.

. . .

next part → 5 days til' Christmas

--------------------------------------------------------

taglist: @aripet22@to-the-endoftheline

[holylulusworld]

Beloved corn dog

Summary: Dean finds something delicious.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x GN!Reader

Warnings: language, fun, crack, Dean loves food

A/N: Inspired by this post: Corn dog

“Damn, look at you sweetheart. You are the prettiest thing I ever laid eyes on,” Dean purrs inside the motel room. “What I would give to have you every day.”

You snicker as the hunter keeps on seducing whoever he has brought to his room tonight.

You’re usually not the nosy kind of person but hearing Dean made you curious. While you press your ear to the door, the hunter continues.

“What if I do it slow, huh? Would you like that, pretty thing?”

You grin. Dean is a master at seducing people. Men and women fall for him wherever he goes. He doesn’t even need to put much effort into getting someone’s attention.

“Let me lick you all over.”

Pressing one hand over your mouth you try to suppress a giggle. You can’t believe Dean just said that.

“Hmm…you like that, don’t cha?” He purrs, and then you hear him groan deeply. “Fuck, you taste so good. Can I have more?”

Your eyes grow wide at the noises Dean makes. He slurps, groans, and smacks his lips together. “Fuck, I can’t do it slow. I have to have you right now.”

“Oh my god,” you curse yourself for not stopping your tongue before it’s too late.

Dean opens the door, a gun aimed at your head while the other holds something you cannot identify.

“Y/N?” Dean wonders why you stand in front of his room, looking like he caught you with your hand in the cookie jar. “Something wrong?”

“Uh-sorry,” you clear your throat. “I wanted to ask if you want to share the food I bought.” You lift the big brown paper bag filled with greasy food. “I didn’t want to disturb you and…uh…whoever is with you.”

He furrows his brows. “There is no one here but me, Y/N,” Dean says. He opens his door wider to let you have a look inside.

“But you were talking to someone. I heard you…I mean…” you stammer nervously. “You said you want to lick them all over and stuff. Don’t lie to me!”

“I’m not lying,” he grins. “I was talking to this.” He lifts his hand, waving it in front of your face to show you what he’s holding. “See, that’s my newest discovery. I’m a food enthusiast and want to try all the food I can find on my travels.”

“What the fuck is that?” You wrap your hand around his wrist to get a better look at the food in his hand. “Are these French fries on a stick?”

“No, no,” he excitedly says. “That’s a French fry crusted corndog.”

“A what?” You blink a few times. “That doesn’t look very healthy Dean.”

“You have to try it, Y/N,” he pushes the monstrosity in your hand. “I got three more. Two for me, and one for Sammy.”

“Uh…”

“Try it,” Dean nods to encourage you. “It’s a corn dog, with cheese and French fries. I had to buy it.”

“French fries on a corn dog,” you wrinkle your nose. “Where did you get it?”

“There was this small stall at the farmer's market. A cute girl was selling it. She said it’s Korean street food, and that people love it.” Dean licks his lips. “Go ahead, take a bite. It won’t bite.” He chuckles at his rhyme. “I’ll have one of the others.”

“Okay. If I die because of this thing, I’ll haunt you, Winchester,” you point the corn dog at Dean. “Now, let’s see…”

Dean watches you nibble at the fries at first. You hum, moan, and then you start to feast on the corn dog. “That’s so good,” you chew loudly, almost choking on the food. “So…so good.”

“I told you so,” Dean takes a large bite of his corn dog. “Do you want to join my food club?”

“If I get to eat food like this, I’m all in,” you give Dean a wink. “Let me just finish this one off. We can try to find the perfect dessert after I’m done…”

Tags in reblog.

[evanvanness]

Two Hands corn dogs review

TwoHands is a Korean-style corn dog chain. What is a Korean-style corn dog?

I'll tell you right off the bat: I have no idea. To me, a corn dog is something you have at the State Fair or the Rodeo, alongside the Fried Oreo/Twinkie/Snickers.

Nevertheless, they've arrived to Texas, as the chain is apparently growing quite fast since its 2019 founding in Los Angeles.

There's possibly a Two Hands in your home town

These are their Corn dogs:

I got the signature set:

The next step is to pick your filling:

I picked normal hotdog filling for the Spicy, half dog/half mozzarella for the TwoHands, and spicy beef for the Classic. This is what you see left to right, respectively.

I was quite hungry, so I tried the TwoHands dog first.

I wasn't expecting 100% mozzarella, I thought that all the filling would be a blend of 50% cheese and 50% hotdog. I was wrong. The hotdog only covered the bottom half of the corn dog. The sweet ranch sauce was interesting, combining a bit of sweet and savory feel. The corn dog was fresh out of the fryer; there's a nice texture on the exterior from the spices and frying.

Next I went for the classic dog, which is a corn dog with ketchup and mustard, but also the sugar coating that you can see in the photo. You can ask for it without sugar but by default it comes with sugar.

This dog was sugary and savory, but then also spicy from the spicy hotdog filling that I chose, while not spicy from the cornmeal. On pure taste (ie, what I'll do on a subsequent visit), I'd probably take the TwoHands dog over this Classic, but on novelty the sugar added something that made it more interesting as a one off. Something you can't see from the photo, is that it appeared that small bits of jalapeño were blended into the beef to make it spicy.

The final dog was the Spicy dog. It wasn't that spicy, since I hadn't gotten the spicy hotdog filling on that one. Overall it was the spiciest dog, but also the dog which I found least interesting. Maybe some that is that the novelty had worn off (plus I was less hungry), but I think it also was just spicy more than it was flavorful like the other two.

Maybe I didn't get the right ones

I have no idea, I got the signature set. Given the names, it seems possible that Injeolmi, Potato and Crispy Rice are more authentic.

 Will you go back?

I imagine I will at some point, but for me it was a bit more novelty that I enjoyed rather than something that I'd eat regularly. It's a corn dog, albeit an interesting one.

After tax and tip (the default and lowest is 15%), I paid almost $6 per dog. That feels high, anything more than $5 feels like a lot to me for a corn dog.

It was worth it for the experience though.

[succubussally]

Korean style hotdogs from Two Hands Corn Dogs in Hillsboro, OR

[keithisnotsokool]

I’m committing myself to texting my cute friend tomorrow and plan getting two hands Korean corn dogs together 🙇‍♂️

[allthecolorsofourlove]

To Whom It May Concern,

I am home the 20th — 24th.

I’m pissed you’ve written me. Subtlety has never been your strong suit and I knew what you meant immediately. Get better, hide better, choose something other than beasts or jackets. Glad you’re still wearing it.

I’m sorry about your roommate by the way. That sounds like shit. I want to ask about it. I won’t.

I hope you’re okay.

I want nothing to do with you and the fact that I miss you makes me want to rip my teeth out, methodically, leave me nothing to wedge in you like a parting gift. Or perhaps leave me no way to hurt you ever again.

I’m home the 20th — 24th, just so you’re aware,

And it makes me furious to miss you at all, frankly, and it makes me even madder to write you back. It’s humiliating, really, and if I was wrong and the idea of enneagrams wasn’t the right motif for me then this is going to be twice as embarrassing and I’d like you to ignore this. Like, really. Fucking ignore it. Pretend I’m as smart as you thought I was when you said I wouldn’t call.

Really, I’m maddest that you’re saying girlfriend online and writing me still, if that is really what you're doing, because I cannot be that intoxicating and she can’t be that divine, if you’re still writing me, and it’s cruel to her too, so this better be good, or your door better be half open even if she has a key. You better be thinking this through. It better be the smell of the ocean or the sound of piano or your old dog, if he’s still around (and I hope he is), and it better not be feeling big, just feeling desperate, if you’re linked to her still, because this would be round two and that would be so, so fucking cruel. You did it with me to the first and then to me with the new girl and you cannot do it to her. I’d hate you, genuinely. Learn to be alone a little bit, for God’s sake. It's not your heart not knowing when to stop. You're just fucking scared of yourself. Breathe with him and learn about him, dude. Christ.

���Once again, I will be home the 20th — 24th.

So happy birthday, early. Because spring makes me soft and stupid. I’m walking through my city and I don’t think about you in yours but my heart hitches when I walk down the street our temporary apartment was on. The cherry blossoms are bursting like rosy sea foam and that pastry place will have their monthly apricot special soon. I’m kissing other mouths and it’s fun and I had other sex and it sucked. I’m making a mess. It feels like your fault even though I know it’s not. That week with the food festival is hazy and sticky sweet in my memory—your hand on my thigh and sharing a Korean corn dog or a joint or something else phallic and feeling like life would never be better than it was right then. Sometimes I think woefully that that feeling was right.

I don’t want to see you and everyone will tell me to run with that but I do want to see you and that makes me realize I’m impulsive and cruel. I have other hands I’m holding but I want you to fuck me and I want you to rub the knots from my back with gentle square hands and I sort of hate that I want that. It’s really pissing me off that I want that and I don’t know how real it is, whether I miss the idea of you or I miss you in reality. After writing this initially I went to bed and had a dream about you, all over me, and it freaked me out. I woke up and stared at the floor. I wanted to go back to sleep. Did you dream about me that night too? Fuck. I sat on this poem for a week. And during that week I dreamed about you twice. I’m 20 this month and I’m deciding that just don’t want to think about any of this that hard, though, because I’m turning fucking 20, and I don’t give a shit anymore, and I shouldn’t, because it’s all stupid. So take anyway. Fuck it. I’m mad. I’m sad. I’m horny. I’m tired. I'm... whatever. It's whatever.

You have to be chill about this by the way. Like, I know this is insane but you’re the one who started it. And at least I’m being honest with mine. I’m being flat and messy and honest. And my honest is saying, I don’t really think I want to date you, but I want to have sex, and I want to kiss you, and lay in your arms, and I miss you when I shouldn’t. I hate missing you. It’s second nature. I don’t know what to do with it. I feel like it’s rare for it to sweep over me in great waves, but when it does, I drown in it. And I’ve accidentally painted a version of you that doesn’t exist, to the people around me, or at least, they never really saw how much it hurt me to cut us in half. I did a good job of playing the strong one. So I just don’t say anything. I can’t say anything. Everyone tells me to move on so I want you for brief stints and then I move on. I try to. I wonder if I cut it off right on time or far too soon. Kitchen scissors always end up in my bathroom for some reason but I have to keep them handy, for some reason. I’m always quick to the jump, so I guess it I’ll never know. Whatever. Whatever.

(Hey, according to you it was right on time, right? I mean, you sure moved on quick. Hah.)

(Sorry. That was mean as shit. Ignore it.)

I’ll be home the 20th — 24th,

Which is weird because my childhood home feels like a prison sometimes, but I’m back for theatre again. My mom called me her son on the phone. I’m breaking down my current kissable escapades because I keep freaking out over how mundane it feels to be a man. Transitioning is easy if I let it be and if I don’t let it be then I’m sobbing in my room over stickers that praise transsexuality and declare the joy of being a faggot. I hope you’re doing okay. I hope surgery prep is okay. I’m looking into mine this month. I have to up my HRT dose, again. Fucking again. I keep getting periods. It’s criminal.

It always sort of felt like you treated me like a woman. That’s stupid to say. I know your dysphoria made sex weird and mine made it weird for me but I didn’t know how to phrase it. But I just felt infantilized sometimes, like it was easier for you to feel secure in your masculinity if you woobified me or made me fragile. It’s probably a me problem. I’m just airing my grievances anyway. If anything happens here, note the time I told you this drunk, and then my best friend whisked me away to bed.

By the way, you have to tell me when the sex is bad, because you never did, and it really fucked with me. Like I feel like I’m doomed to suck forever now. Because you just sort of would take my hands and go “Okay, you’re done,” if you didn’t like what I was doing, and you’d never moan, and I just felt like so embarrassed and weird about it. I have so much shame. Like, before you I had so much shame, and now I have even more. So if you take into account the fact that I am home the 20th — 24th you’re obligated to do the one thing I ask and communicate with me, if the dates that I’m home are something that interest you. At all. I’m just saying.

I know you aren't the only one at fault. I'm not saying that. I'm just howling at the moon. Biting off fleas, which have bothered me for seven months. I'm sure I have been restless and rude and ruthless even, and I'm sure I was back then too. I delayed it when I shouldn't have. I never spoke my mind. I'm sorry for it. I didn't always know how to speak to you—or how to get through to you. You're stubborn as shit, you know? You like to repress. It was easier to run with it and swallow discomfort and I shouldn't have done that. It wasn't fair to either of us. I'm trying to be honest, because I don't know how much I really was last summer. I'm trying to say it. Even when it's mean. Even if I don't know how, and

Even when I don't really want to.

This concludes the bulk of my letter.

Thanks for your interest in my proposal. If you have any at all. But you haven't blocked me and I'm watching you add songs to that playlist again that don't say that I'm the worst in the world or whatever, which are fair to add anyway, but you're just not doing it. I don't know why. (I scream-laughed when you added that Blink-182 song though. God, you're corny.) So I'm guessing you're interested. Once again, I am home the weekend before your 20th birthday. Which I understand you do not want to spend at home. It’s why I’m here that weekend and not the next, cause I really don’t want to spend my own at home.

It’s not lost on me that it’s the same weekend, a year apart. I’m just letting it be. I make a point to not think so hard about themes or narratives sometimes or else I’d lose my mind. But my majors won’t allow it, two versions of the same analysis, so I’m thinking about them, and I’m thinking about you. Which I also try to avoid. But I just don't do it.

Fuck. Fuck me. Jesus. Everyone will tell me that this is a bad idea. But I just thought you’d like to know. You have a car. A train. And a mind of your own. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever.

Honestly, I don’t even know what I’m asking for. I don’t know what seeing you would change or fucking you would change or kissing you would change. Nothing, really. I don’t even know why I’m writing this. Do you know why you wrote yours? Surely, you have to know that rekindling this permanently, seriously, so soon isn’t a good idea? We’re finally both settled in our cities. There’s no way this makes any sense.

Why did you even write in the first place? What… what’s making you come back?

What compelled you? I don’t understand. I thought we had both moved on.

I’m begging for an answer.

Maybe I’ll change my mind. Ask me again just before the aforementioned dates (the 20th — 24th, if you don’t remember). And if I do, change my mind about all this, I mean, let this be all the things I always wanted to say but never did. If nothing else at least it’s closure, right? Real closure. Like, not cloaked in poetry. It’s written alongside. And it’s not being written in the mist of that initial fragile night of, where I poured myself a double dorm margarita (two shots of tequila and organic lemonade) and watched my favorite TV show with friends, and thought I was fine. (For the record, I sort of was, until the end of October. Shit hit the fan after that. You really don’t want to know. I’m still cleaning it up. I’m still reeling about it. It's a long story.)

Closure has to count for something. …Right?

But right now I’m aching. And I’m seething. It’s 1am and 2pm and fucking midnight, and I hate missing you—I can’t get it to stop. Maybe I’ll quench it, somehow. Maybe I won’t. I still want to tell you these things anyway.

If I’m wrong, destroy this message immediately. Have fun with her and your dog tattoo (I actually, seriously mean it. I’d rather you be happy with her, even if I’m feeling whipped up and hungry, on occasion, because it’s truly better for both of us that way.)

(… Even if it’s fucked up to steal my motifs for your own tattoo, and I laughed when I saw you punch the string of my own pulled teeth into her skin, because I still remember that you were going to get that on yourself in my city.)

(Sorry. That’s mean.)

(I’m trying to be nicer... I’m trying to be clean. I’m trying to mop my mess up and tuck my corners in. I don’t want to keep hurting others, or myself, but I can’t quit it. Whatever I’m trying to do, it’s clearly not working. Or else I'd never write this message.)

Best wishes (sincerely—I really, really mean it, no matter what you do),

S. V.

[thegirl-in3z]

[everybody-loves-to-eat]

(source)

[imarider]

[lovelybunn]

ㅤㅤㅤ ﹙ 𝖽𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝖾𝖽.﹚

warning(s): smut, swearing

author's note: this is lowkey so fanon it's not even funny but it's fine. and i love red guy so i'll project on him as much as i'd like, f u + ratio + leave if u don't like it idc. /lh

                      ༚ .  🍬 ◌  ꙳ .  ⊹  🖍  + ｡ ๋

"hm? you say you 'love' me? thank you. i guess i do, too." red flashes his canines at you; a warm, gentle smile welcomed you. it only lasted for a second though, before his focus went completely back on the television in front of him. you rolled your eyes playfully before laying down next to your boyfriend.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝖧𝖤𝖠𝖣𝖢𝖠𝖭𝖮𝖭𝖲.

his autism makes it a bit hard for him to show his affection/emotions, but he really does try his best.

he may act kind of cold and/or misunderstand certain social cues, but he does it all in good faith.

red loves being generally around you. there doesn't need to be a conversation– or even any touching for that matter, just being in your presence gives him a sense of comfort.

red speaks in a very monotonous voice, not intentionally of course, but it does cause confusion in translation. what makes it even worse is that sarcasm is literally his main sense of humor.

"hon, i left some chives in the fridge. can you go fetch them for me, please?" your boyfriend hummed. the smell of fresh cut onions frying in olive oil filled your nostrils. red was preparing some kind of dish, but he refused to tell you what it was. you about drooled imagining all the possibilities; no matter what it was, you knew red was bound to make it delicious.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝖧𝖤𝖠𝖣𝖢𝖠𝖭𝖮𝖭𝖲.

red unironically loves to cook, so his love language is to feed you with his culinary specialities.

he has an over 200 page recipe book that would be illegible and unorganized without the help of duck with a variety of dishes from tiramisu to korean style corn dogs.

the only thing he won't even think about cooking is red meat. it reminds him too much of organs and that makes him physically sick to his stomach.

if you guys are making bread or something, red will press his body close against yours and guide your hands while softly whispering you instructions.

"why do you keep staring at (name) like that?" yellow bellowed, his head tilted to the side with curiosity. red snapped his focus towards yellow. his tone was mildly harsh as he responded, "what? i'm not staring. i'm just looking at them. am i not allowed to look at my own partner anymore?" duck scoffed, flipping through the newspaper absent-mindedly. "don't get all defensive, he does have a point, it's quite... awkward to watch on the sidelines." before red could come up with a snarky remark, you pranced in, looking as happy as can be. duck smirked while yellow became a giggly mess. you didn't understand what the commotion was about, but red looked like he was about to explode.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝖧𝖤𝖠𝖣𝖢𝖠𝖭𝖮𝖭𝖲.

even in the long term, red acts like you're simply unreachable like his chances of ever finding his real family.

he absolutely adores viewing you from afar. your like some kind of abstract painting to him: weird, confusing, yet so beautiful in his eyes.

he even has little fantasies and daydreams about you two, but red keeps the thoughts to himself, afraid you may debunk his ideas entirely.

his two mates tease him to hell about you two, but he always keeps his cool no matter much he wants pop their little skulls open.

ㅤ𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚! 𝗡𝗦𝗙𝗧 𝗨𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗖𝗨𝗧!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝖧𝖤𝖠𝖣𝖢𝖠𝖭𝖮𝖭𝖲.

he's 1000% a bottom, no question. he needs you to control and use him until he's nothing but a shriveled up disgusting milked dry mess.

forget a horse, all the horsepower you need is right in red's lap!

red is always in the mood for head, no joke it's almost as if that thing is always hard as mount everest.

in contrast to the point above, red's sex drive is really low, but when he is horny, it's like witnessing a dog in heat.

he's a whimper/mewler. he can't help it, you just make him feel so fucking good.

red's ability to speak completely shuts down when having sex. it just become incoherent babbles at that point.

pretty much inexperienced, but once red gets the hang of it, it's on and poppin' partner ;).

no bdsm. absolutely not. abuse? of him or you, especially you? hell no.

exhibitionism is also a no-no. red believes sex should be a private intimate experience, and he's already fully aware of who he belongs to and vice versa.

red's praise kink is down so horrendously that you can simply say "good job" in a casual conversation and he'll get hard.

red prefers to cum inside you, wouldn't mind if you were like "ew that's gross /hj"

speaking of his cum, he got alot of it, and it goes everywhere when you give him head.

[saketoge]

a (long) get to know me tag !

tagged by: @jaehyukkies and @takatamashi 💕

tagging: @yutaslaugh @dongkwan @sangyus @ambivartence

—what day is your birthday? july 24

—what's your favorite color? green and lavender

—what's your lucky number? 7 (love being boring ✌🏼)

—do you have any pets? two dogs and two cats

—how tall are you? 5'4" (162 cm)

—how many pairs of shoes do you own? around 20 but i cycle through only like 5

—favorite song? i suck at picking favorites but currently i love level up by ab6ix and crush by seventeen

—favorite movie? i'm bad a favs but some comfort movies include mulan (1998), practical magic, and howl's moving castle

—what would be your ideal partner? dating isn't super important to me rn but i think i'd like someone who is confident in themselves but doesn't take themselves too seriously, can communicate well, and can make me laugh. good chemistry is important too

—do you want children? maybe one day?! i think if i did i wouldn't have my own i would adopt

—have you gotten in trouble with the law? 😇

—bath or shower? shower

—what color socks are you wearing? gray with lil candy corns on them

—favourite type of music? pop! specifically but def not limited to k, punk, and alt

—how many pillows do you sleep with? 3

—what position do you sleep in? like all of them. i start sleeping on my side on one side of my bed then end up starfished in the middle of my bed jlfhgjlsjgflj

—what you don’t like when you’re sleeping? if it's too hot or too quiet 🙅🏼‍♀️

—what do you have for breakfast? during the week, i usually have coffee and like a microwave breakfast sandwich. on weekends i either make eggs or my dad makes breakfast/brunch for all of us

—have you ever tried archery? once in gym class in like 8th grade

—favourite fruit? mangoes my beloved <3

—favourite swear word? i swear like a sailor so probably fuck, u can throw her anywhere in a sentence and she works

—do you have any scars? a couple on my legs from being a rambunctious youngin and one on my nose; i smashed my face on a metal slide when i was little

—are you a good liar? absolutely not

—what’s your personality type? infj

—what’s your favourite type of girl? all girls also wtf is this question

—innie or outie? innie

—left- or right-handed? right

—favourite food? fried rice, specifically my dad's or my grandma's. it makes me feel safe 💖 that and nam (gnam?? idk how to spell it it's a thai dish my dad makes it's divine)

—favourite foreign food? korean food (kimchi my beloved)

—are you clean or messy? i'm kinda messy but it's more organized chaos like it looks a lil rough but i know where everything is 😅

—most used phrase? i say "huh??" rly obnoxiously a lot, also "dude" and/or "bro"

—how long does it take for you to get ready? on weekdays i think it takes me like 45 min to get up and be out the door

—do you talk to yourself? all the time !

—do you sing to yourself? all the time !

—are you a good singer? i'm def not good but i can carry a tune i think

—biggest fear? sp*ders and c*ntip*des. i do not and will not ever fuck with either of those if i see ONE of the latter i will LOSE my shit like full panic attack

—are you a gossip? yeah i'm a nosy bitch but i'll keep it to myself

—do you like long or short hair? i like short hair (like just above shoulder length) on me. i had long hair for most of my life but i think short suits me better

—favourite school subject? science!! bio specifically

—extrovert or introvert? i'm p introverted. i love being with my friends and fam and stuff but i def gotta have that recharge time

—what makes you nervous? starting new things, having to manage/be in charge of people, walking at night, getting lost in a crowd

—who was your first real crush? omg one of my best friends in middle school. we were bros in seventh grade and i quickly realized i was in love with him (as much as u can be when ur twelve) and like a year later i told him and he was super cool abt it. we're not as close but we're still friends now and i def still love him a lil bit 🤷🏼‍♀️

—how many piercings do you have? 3 in each ear, industrial, and my nose

—how fast can you run? i do not

—what colour is your hair? dark brown

—what colour are your eyes? hazel (idk why i always feel so pretentious when i say that but they rly are green and brown fhsfgsjfdhj)

—what makes you angry? capitalism

—do you like your own name? i do!

—do you want a boy or a girl as a child? if i have any, i have no preference on their gender, binary or otherwise

—what are your strengths? hmm i'm detail oriented; i like to know the whole process and mechanics behind what i'm doing. i think i'm p reliable and can adapt well to my environment. i'm also p empathetic and i really value my relationships with like friends and fam. i wasn't always good at communication but i'm definitely much better than i was so that's cool.

—what are your weaknesses? i'm not good at giving myself credit for things that i've done, and not in that like humble way but in that imposter syndrome way (if that makes sense lol). i also struggle with starting things, like big life things like applying to grad school or buying a car or something. it seems so daunting and i never rly know where to start and it ends up stressing me out so much that i put it off. usually somebody has to bully me into actually doing it.

—what’s the colour of your bedspread? white with flowers

—colour(s) of your room? lavender walls, beige carpet (didn't pick it), and wooden furniture