Color Me Curious
untitled
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
pixel skylines
almost home
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
EXPECTATIONS
cherry valley forever
Noah Kahan
tannertan36
Fieri Frames
occasionally subtle
Not today Justin
Jimmy Eat World
No title available
Claire Keane
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Cosmic Funnies
#extradirty
YOU ARE THE REASON
seen from Spain
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Australia
seen from Fiji
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from Indonesia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Poland
seen from China
seen from Venezuela
seen from United States
@acaeunbi-blog
a smol tracker:
hello friends, i will be taking a hiatus for 2 weeks bc i'm traveling out of the country on vacation beginning monday, may 29. i will be back around june 10. give or take a day or two. sorry for the sudden notice ;A;
below the cut is a tracker for my own reference so i won’t forget things.
@acawonwoo
acawonwoo:
@acaeunbi
doesn’t it suck? being the blunt of hyeri’s jokes and all things related.
says no one, ever. breaks are technically free-for-all at the moment, considering class isn’t functioning during these hours. wonwoo would take nine if he could, uninterrupted. thirty minutes per session. just - away from the ruckus that is currently the debate team booth.
my ass. the only valid debate he’s ever had today was deciding on whether to even get out of bed or not. judging by the measly two hours he’s spent out here with the rest of the team, he should have definitely opted for the latter. his argument?
fucking debate club. sans reasons. the argument’s just that compelling.
“i don’t know how you do it.”
wonwoo finds eunbi’s shirt a tad distasteful, heaving a heavy sigh at the word choice alone. it doesn’t even come as a surprise - it’s literally a bold statement printed on her chest (lack thereof is a joke that never makes it past his mouth).
“i mean, is that even by will?” he looks down at his own top, collar buttoned up all the way. light blue and pressed, nothing at all like hers. why do you hate yourself that much?
(what am i doing wrong?)
high noon finds eunbi with her arms full of bagged snacks and energy drinks, a grin spread from cheek to cheek, and a pep in her step. looking at her, no one would be able to tell she couldn’t sleep a wink the night before--too busy handwriting individual cheer messages for the members of the debate team (re: 10 for hyeri unnie, to be honest. 5 for wonwoo oppa and 2 generic ones for the rest of the team--all in varying forms of fighting! and good job, bidulgi’s pride!) and ironing her shirt.
it’s half past twelve when she makes her way across campus, face flushed and a little too giddy. she spots wonwoo near the most eye catching booth she has ever seen and almost beams, speedwalking towards him with all the excitement of a bull seeing red.
“oppa, hi!” is her absentminded greeting, hands too busy reaching into one of the bags draped on her shoulder for a pocari sweat to shove into wonwoo’s hands. “are you thirsty? here, drink this.” eunbi’s in the middle of setting her bags on the floor when wonwoo’s comment has her squinting up at him, mouth rounded in surprise. “oh, this?” she peeks down at the queen hyeri kill ‘em shirt she’s wearing and finds herself smiling before nodding in response. “by choice, oppa.”
a giggle sticks to her throat when she takes the time to give wonwoo a once over, slow and lasting all of thirty seconds before her attention’s back on the bags by her feet. ten seconds and she’s got the notes she’s written with a yellow glitter pen tucked into his shirt pocket. for good luck. smiling, she presses a hand there, waits a beat. two. three. and beams up at him. “how’s the recruiting going?” pause. a quick glance around tells her no one is approaching. has anyone signed up yet? “you look kind of dead.” constipated.
she narrows her eyes, half playful and half serious. “have you been scaring people away?”
( : ♡ * kitchen calamity! )
acahyunjung:
“no, no no! there’s no such thing as too advanced. we will conquer this japchae monster and we will do it with pride. giving up is not a thing that should exist in this kitchen!” she waves a spoon in the air, grip on the handle strong and determined. but truth be told, she wanted to give up just a bit after unpacking everything, ingredients sprawled across the counter. but this was one of those days that she got to spend all her time with eunbi, truly bask in silliness and happiness and she was not about to give up on all that just because they were both less than average in kitchen skills.
hyunjung peers over eunbi’s shoulder, lips pressed together as she scans the page. her eyes refuse to process what’s written. there’s too many letters, too many words, too many numbers and fractions. “so, where do we start?” she knows this night will end up in a disaster, because it always has. but she has faith that this night might end up a little better than the previous ones, just because hyunjung’s a little more prepared and has watched at least five japchae videos beforehand.
( although, she did eventually become hungry in the middle of them all and forgot to press pause during her several snack breaks. she still thinks she’s prepared, nonetheless. as long as she heard the instructions, everything should be fine. )
except when the kitchen is on fire.
it’s a sentiment eunbi swallows back. what she offers, instead, is a wide grin coupled with a playful hip check to nudge hyunjung out of the way so she could grab a couple of bowls from the cabinet above them, her hands busy washing everything in sight under cold water to make eye contact.
“you’re so optimistic, unnie.” but that’s exactly why eunbi found herself gravitating towards hyunjung in the first place. her warmth was contagious and, for the first time in a long time, she finds herself genuinely happy in another person’s presence.
“i guess we’re going vegetarian because i don’t think i have any beef.” there’s a bit of a whine nestled in the middle of her words and eunbi can’t be bothered to hide her disappointment over how hungry she’s going to be later. japchae just wasn’t the same without rib eye fillet. “anyway, it says to soak the shiitake mushrooms...for two to three hours...” she shoots hyunjung a quick glance, incredulous and a little slack-jawed. “unnie...i don’t think i can wait two hours for the mushrooms to soak in the fridge. can we just...” eunbi makes a slicing motion with her hand and gestures at the mushrooms in front of her. “you know, skip the soaking part and just go straight to the slicing and dicing?”
acawonwoo:
“that’s all the more convenient for me, then.” living here sucks anyway. all the parties he’s enjoyed and loathed are enough to support that opinion. his face falters when she mentions that bit about the fourth thing on his list though, cause for disappointment to etch on his features.
definitely at himself. nicotine’s his usual fighter, but on some occasions marijuana suits his needs too. he’s not sure which one’s worse. they’re both horrible on their own accord.
shouldn’t that be enough to stop?
wonwoo has to blink when he finds her hand on his cheek, mouth falling open at such an act. “clark kent’s a hero, no?” he blinks again, small smile sneaking into the equation as he stays still. “i won’t take that much credit.” for the superhero thing. but the elder brother situation, yes.
a thousand times, yes.
what’s your secret, lois?
(what’s ours?)
his fingers tremble at his side, coming up slowly to rest over the back of her hand. the placement is awkward (or so he thinks. wants to. the familiarity of her presence is a little more unnerving than he’d like to admit), hand curling around her wrist soon enough as a cue for her to pull away. but he’ll let her do that on her own terms at the very least, eyes focusing on the top of her head as he spots a petal resting in her hair. he blows it away, clipboard shedding light on him when he drops his arm to the side.
his gaze softens, head tilting up just slightly to feign some sense of superiority as he folds his arms together over his stomach. “feel like avoiding the sun for the rest of the day then, eunbi-yah?”
i don’t.
(where have you been all this time?)
“because i know a place.”
we’re bailing. you’ll figure out everything else along the way.
wonwoo’s almost baffled at how confident he is about that. almost.
but that’s because it’s not really foreign, this feeling.
(it’s nice to see you again.)
FIN.
➳ stressed out.
acayoungjae:
@acaeunbi
a frustrated sigh left his lips, hands gripping the pencil tightly, looking at the paper. there were days when he couldn’t stop getting ideas for his designs, and this was not one of those days. he had drawn, erased, drawn, erased, and drawn then erased over and over again. he felt lost, no ideas came to his head, making put his head in his hands.
he asked himself why did he not think about his first idea and how wrong it was for the assignment? youngjae usually wasn’t one to procrastinate, and when he heard about the project of creating your own skyscraper, inside and out, he thought he had the perfect idea. but, the night before, looking his original design over, he thought it was too plain, too boring to be called a skyscraper. he hated that it wasn’t intricate enough, and he felt like he left out too many details, so he completely scrapped the idea. so, there he was, working on his project.
he groaned softly ( trying not to make noise so he wasn’t kicked out of the library ), his tired eyes looking over at his paper again. skyscrapers were different than what youngjae usually designed, honestly. he loved designing houses ( he hoped one of them would be his future house ) and apartment complexes, even official buildings. but skyscrapers… they were different because they were way taller, and when you design them, you want them to be as realistic as possible, but also make it interesting.
his first design was just a plain rectangular prism, windows, and filled with office cubicles and rooms. he shook his head, whispering to himself, ‘ this is impossible. ’
let’s talk about the way people fight frustration.
there’s heaving sighs, fingers tugging in hair, tapping on the table (restless, impatient), and the constant need to bottle it in. decompress, decompose, destress.
eunbi starts noticing him at a quarter to twelve, pen in her mouth, as he erases and erases and erases. curious, she notes the signs at the two minute mark, watching with furrowed brows every time he sets pencil to wrinkled paper and seconds later, erasing.
from a distance, she can’t quite tell what it is he’s attempting to draw--smudged lines are all she can see, even when she squints from two seats away.
there’s a beat of silence in between the lull of a soft groan and the seconds where he shakes his head, his whisper defeated. third party feelings of observation come ghosting in by the five minute mark: commiseration (she takes a half-heartedly glance at her unfinished essay and sighs quietly. this is understanding) and sympathy.
this is how she kills boredom--by scooting two seats over until she’s sitting across from him, her papers in hand, and a heart too big for her chest. nobody’s ever told her that wanting to help was a burden and she hopes to god she isn’t prying when she taps a finger gently on the corner of his paper, mindful of half-erased pencil lines.
“you look stressed.” concern is a soft whisper and a too friendly nudge of her foot against his under the table. “need a hand?” a sounding board? “can i see? i mean--” there’s a crooked smile here, slightly awkward and accompanied by a waving hand. nervous habit--never broken. “sometimes, a fresh pair of eyes might help...? new perspective and all that. that is, if you don’t mind me taking a look!”
( : ♡ * kitchen calamity! )
acahyunjung:
hyunjung has bumped into ↺ @acaeunbi
most of her life, hyunjung had dealt with an obnoxious older brother. he was naggy, bossy, took every chance he had to annoy her. yet, she still came out fairly calm and seemingly content with everything around her. when she was younger, she hid under blankets after a night of incessant teasing and swore to herself that if she ever got a younger sister, she’d treat her better than the way she was treated. hyunjung never got that younger sister. not from her parents, anyways.
her younger sister came in the figure of hwang eunbi, a precious freshman she had stumbled upon a while ago. they had clicked quite easily, and hyunjung found a little sister in her. she adored eunbi, loved her and treasured her like they were blood relatives and she had promised to always take care of her no matter what. because she found happiness in eunbi, and wanted nothing more for her than happiness.
what really brought them together was the fact that neither had the above average skills of cooking in the kitchen. heck, you couldn’t even call it average. but hyunjung at least had the ability to make some things and that was all that mattered. they had decided from then that a good bonding activity would be to attempt different recipes each week. they all ended between somewhat of a disaster or something that was pretty okay, but nothing too special. today, they decided their disastrous outcome for the night would be japchae for dinner and rainbow cupcakes for dessert. end result? probably a nightmare. but they’ll take what they can get. unless it was another kitchen fire.
there’s this girl.
there’s this girl eunbi meets who reminds her of the sun, of the warmth that blooms in her chest. there’s this girl she meets who doesn’t know the meaning of boundaries and the limits of public displays of affection. there’s this girl she meets and eunbi can’t help but smile at the sight of her.
hyunjung is sunshine incarnate. and sometimes, eunbi doesn’t know what to do with herself when she smiles at her. or pats her head. or pushes handfuls of candy at her because sharing is caring. or when hyunjung picks up the phone at an ungodly hour and just listens, quietly, patiently.
all eunbi can do is grab at the feeling of sanctuary with both hands, hold budding tenderness in her arms and pray to god that hyunjung wouldn’t notice that, sometimes, eunbi hugged her a little too tightly (a little too desperately, as if any looser and hyunjung would slip away. vanish.) or stared a little too long.
attachment comes in the form of weekly sleepovers and impromptu master chef parodies in the privacy of her apartment. she stands at the precipice of friendship, clad in oversized rilakkuma pajamas and a recipe book splayed on the counter. japchae is the attempt for tonight and all eunbi recalls having in her fridge are half-eaten takeout containers of jajangmyeon, kimchi, two eggs (maybe three), and an assortment of not-so fresh cabbage, green onions and carrots. and packaged dangmyeon. one. somewhere in one of those cabinets.
“unnie…” there’s a whine somewhere in there and eunbi almost laughs at the disaster that’s bound to happen in the next hour or so. “are you sure you don’t wanna just order take out? maybe japchae’s a little too advanced for us noobs.”
acawonwoo:
( ... )
do you believe in superheroes?
“breaking news,” he blurts. shoulders relaxed, face stoic, voice neither confident nor out of place. “lois lane spotted in possible distress with a fool in specs.”
there’s a reason he’s not majoring in journalism and all that other bullshit.
"wonwoo sunbaenim.” she tacks on the honorific with a cheeky grin—it’s a reminder that this is korea and not the states. that carefree familiarity is not something readily given but earned, granted with discretion. but eunbi’s never been one to hide behind rules and regulations, always ready to toe the line and cross boundaries. a free spirit through and through. “wonwoo oppa,” there’s a smile there, slow and easy. “it sounds better. oppa. doesn’t it?”
distance isn’t calculated in physical space because even at his side, eunbi feels small (smaller) and wholly unprepared for the way her heart pounds in her chest. it feels nostalgic, familiar. as if all this has happened once before —deja vu.
“where were you planning on taking me anyway?” here, walking in his shadow, eunbi feels a sudden gap. two steps for every long stride. mismatched paces, mismatched heartbeats. different, different, different. slow down, she requests with an impatient tug at his wrist. slow down. (i’m not going anywhere.) “i live off-campus. by myself.” fact: blunt and said without fanfare.
he leads them under a cherry blossom tree and eunbi has to bite back a laugh at the pinch of awkwardness thrumming at the pit of her stomach. she drops her hand from his wrist then and laces them behind her back, heels rocking back and forth. restless. “i prefer being indoors, wonwoo oppa.” she tells him like she wants him to care, (please do. care, i mean. please care.) dishing out bits and pieces about herself like spare change. “hmm...not so different from every other campus in the states. i’m a victim of all three,” one hand comes up to shade her eyes as she tilts her head back to look at him. “but not the drugs. i don’t see the appeal.”
there’s something like budding affection bubbling beneath her skin. it’s warm and soft. all kinds of soft. eunbi finds that she likes it. and him. even his bumbling ways and abysmal people skills. he feels solid. real. no pretense.
“does that mean you’re clark kent?” she laughs then, head thrown back and one hand pressed to her mouth. please, keep talking. you sound like home. you sound like home. “sorry, oppa. i already know a superhero in disguise.” one step brings her closer and she rises on tiptoes to cup his cheek. bold. always bold. (what are boundaries? what is personal space?) “but you can be my oppa. just wonwoo oppa, yeah?”
this is my family. in the making, all rough around the edges. but all mine. it will be all mine.
for @acawonwoo
orientation is a civilized battlefield. mounds of incoming freshmen with their arms full of folders and bags of knick knacks from the welcome table, and looks of shock and amazement all around. eunbi’s sure she’s not the only one with the wonderstruck look written across her face and something like foreignness lingering between half-bows and friendly waves.
she doesn’t belong here. she doesn’t belong. yet.
she’s standing with her back against a tree, lollipop in her mouth, when someone steps into her space. when she looks up at him, home is degrees of separation, of bottled up emotion.
it starts with a slow open-mouthed once over. she notes the discrepancies with a mental tick off a checklist of notes: black hair, not brown; glasses, not contacts; casual clothes, not a pressed business suit; smooth hands, not calloused.
eunbi swallows back a frown. it’s not him. of course it’s not.
“i’m not lost.” she’s not. “why, do i look lost?”
she’s always lost. lost at home. lost in a sea of faces. lost in herself.
(home is a collection of postage stamps on handwritten letters, of missed calls and ten voicemails, of laughter and warm hugs. home isn’t a soft boy with a nice voice and gentle hands. home isn’t an empty apartment and late night ramyun because she can’t cook for her life and dad isn’t here to make japchae or tteokbokki.
home isn’t here. it isn’t.
so why does it feel like home when she looks at him?)
come with me, he says. and all it would take is a no and eunbi wouldn’t need to risk the consequences of following a boy she’s meeting for the first time.
but her want for the taste of home makes her swallow back the rejection.
so she smiles (all teeth) and steps closer, fingers reaching forward to lock around his wrist. “if i want to live?” the joke comes easy, like stepping into well worn shoes. or a warm embrace. “i’m eunbi, by the way.” she tugs once, her thumb brushing against his pulse point, and squints up at him. “what’s your name?”
(he is not home sweet home. he is not. but that’s okay. that’s okay.)
you are a safe zone.
by definition, safe is not being exposed to danger or risk.
protected, sound, sheltered, out of harm’s way.
it is a prayer that does not need to exist. a privilege, rightfully earned if you are initially wanted. if you had been planned. expected.
but you spiel one anyway, under your breath and away from all that is outside of your comfort. this is when you are most carefree, when safe goes above and beyond what it is.
what safe should be.
a risky synonym for home.
(you’d be a fool to not see this as an irony in the slightest.)
be wise, be resilient, be headstrong.
be what i’ve raised you to become.
(have you even?)
“are you lost?”
(welcome home.)
he has to crane his neck down more than he’d like, eyes tired when he looks at her from head to toe. it’s only really an exaggeration though, a smile killing his default frown when he tries to figure out why he can feel the sun and she can’t.
he wonders, too, why he can feel warmth not being limited in this range, not only hitting the back of his neck when he spares another once-over some beats later, clutching his orientation folder on a whim he could have easily missed. this is a reality check, seething through his black shirt and baring spots of delayed red on skin that isn’t covered.
the sun, is beating on his back.
hi, are you there?
(gulp down your present distractions.)
with a final study from the top of her head to her converse-clad feet, he’s convinced it’s not any different turning around to face it upfront.
because you already are.
(blink once, blink twice.)
he shuffles to the side, eventually. doesn’t apologize for no longer acting as shade. a late reaction.
(you’ll have your fair share of that soon enough.)
“come with me.”
i’m sorry i’m not all that. rays of light and rainbows and all that bullshit.
yet.
maybe i won’t be.
but welcome here.
(welcome home.)
plot call.
hi hello !! i’m going to keep this short & simple hehe ;u; please like this post if you would like to plot with my smol bean and i’ll slide into your ims once i read up on your muse (and look over your plot page/wanted plots if you have one). i currently have a smol plots page up here if you want to take a look. otherwise, i am totally down to brainstorm a thingie thing !!
160804 cultwo show commute
thank you to lollipop! // do not edit. take out with full credit.
