SHE'S A BABY

higher than i've ever, ever been han garam .

[onlygaram]

ꕤ … hi ! it's skye, i can't be stopped and so here is ; han garam, the wannabe, aka my baby girl !! 3rd year undergrad, nutrition major / food science minor, gaeum building, baseball and boxing sports doer, horseback riding princess. she's here to give everyone funny shaped snacks with faces on them and comes fitted with a slew of vaguely overwhelming clingy behaviors that surely won't be a problem in the long run PROFILE . WANTED CONNECTIONS . ESTABLISHED CONNECTIONS.

so, han garam! foodie, living life enthusiast, morning runner, friend to all, emotionally available and heart on the sleeve (for better or worse).

she's in several clubs, and just about any clique of people who exist she wants to be in it. she's a would be insta foodie/chef influencer who doesn't respond well to feeling left out. mostly, she wants to love and be loved, and her presence in so many clubs/sports and friend groups is an extension of that.

(cw: illness, mostly relevant in her backstory, not likely to be a repeating theme in any current threads)— grew up on a farm with her single mother and grandparents. got very sick as a teenager and it left her family in shambles for several months upon the lead up to discovering what had done went wrong.

hard of hearing (snhl), since she was 17 years old, does have a hearing aid which she uses inconsistently. fluent ksl. sentences tend to be short and soft.

so many mountains were moved to get garam into university and it's a treasure to her. she WILL make the most of it. she studies hard, she parties hard, she wants to make every friend she can, join every group she can, she wants to be noticed and she wants to experience university as the gift it is? (a good and bad thing at times).

she's a generally lovable person, soft, a bit quiet, but very warm? she is enthusiastic in her own way, responsive/reactive, empathetic, you name it. that said she has her downfalls as well. being exceptionally clingy, easily frustrated and sensitive.

there are times she struggles to communicate well and when that's the case, she usually resorts to quality time, or gifts like foods she makes. will often show up with food she's made as an apology or offering of some sort.

loves her friends, likes her enemies, easy to take advantage of unfortunately, desperate to live a full life and be considered by the world in all its glory.

yes, i also write for @goodbyejoon and @typicaljisung this is true. and just like them i have plenty of pages up for you to look at for garam, and am always willing to plot. if i'm ever slow getting back to you please don't be afraid to double message me. and don't be afraid to add me on discord on the off chance you haven't yet!

[0hw3llw0rld]

there is so much going on through his head right now, but they were somehow getting drowned by his heartbeat. she really managed to give minhyun a scare, but at least it was the both of them- 

"it's an emergency-" he quotes back, but the voice rings familiar, including the tone of voice. his head tips to the side, but then his name comes out in a tone of voice he remembers way too well and he blinks like an idiot "garam?" he questions back, unsure if he was seeing correctly. not that he was seeing much, the moonlight wasn't helpful at all. he's a bit stun locked really, all he came to do was find his stupid socks, but garam is here naked and barely hiding behind a preserver ring. he couldn't make this up even if he wanted to.

"woah, woah-" he starts, lifts his hands to make her pause "why are your clothes gone?" he starts with a single question, but she waves him over and he steps closer, the gap quickly closing and he sees better now, the wet hair just put the whole picture togeter "fuck me, did you jump in the water?" he asks, surprised, amused even- as if he hadn't done the exact same thing thirty or less minutes ago, so he reminds himself, he can't judge her. he does move on instinct, for the most part really, his free hand reaches over his head, grabbing a fistful of his shirt before pulling it off him. 

"you're gonna get sick, it's cold." he's not exactly scolding her, but he is worried to say the least. "put this on, i have nothing else on me right now-" he shoves his shift in garam's hand, reaching to grab the ring from her. maybe he would have more if he hadn't given agatha his hoodie when they went into the late earlier, but he couldn't blame himself for not predicting this.

[onlygaram]

his voice is so familiar, like second nature to her after these years, but never before had she been so fucking happy to hear him. she could cry even at the way he calls out her name. her lips press into a pout and she wiggles in place as if to rush him. "yeah it's me, i know it's dark but you're blind." she mutters, playful, flustered, whining almost.

his palms up, his tone shocked and she has the gall to look a bit shameless for a second. her little sigh as the distance between them is slowly eaten up. "not recently," she squeaks a bit. she and minhyun are always getting into something aren't they? he's seen her in more compromising positions than most have, even.

her eyes are on his body in the dim light for just a split second before she schools herself back into behaving. "i know i know, i'm sorry." she mutters, "i couldn't just say no. i...i lost a bet." the words are a bit muffled (and quite loud) as she slides his shirt over her head, still warm from his body, still smelling like he does. like she's so used to. "stupid trivia night." she laments.

with his shirt covering the rest of her nude n wet form, she can finally focus a bit. pressing her lips together as some of the embarrassment creeps back up, buried only for a moment. "why do i always make bets and play games when i always lose." she exhales, stepping closer and giving him a hug at last, wrapping her arms around his waist and laying her ear to his heart. "i had no clue what i was going to do... without you i'd have been sneaking back fully naked." she shivers a bit, even the imagination of it is enough to make even the bravest person a bit shy, she'd think. so many eyes that could have spotted her. at least it was him.

[cmyujink]

let's play (volley)ball plot and cast: han garam ( @onlygaram ) and heo yujin enjoying friday of the mt, playing his favorite sport.

there was something in the air that afternoon. maybe it was the excitement running through the students after they made it to the campgrounds and were free for a while after their lunch, maybe it was the volleyball that yujin was tossing excitedly up and down.

he never really got to play the game with people outside of his team; on the rare occasion he did play a sport with his friends, it was more along the lines of basketball—which was fine, but it didn’t compare at all to volleyball for him.

the ball made contact with his hands again, he held it tight in his grip to make sure it wouldn’t tumble away, causing a gentle ‘thump!’ finally glancing at the girl across from him, he grinned brightly in her direction.

him and garam were… actually, he didn’t really know what to describe him and garam. he thought she was cute and fun to be around, they matched each other’s energy pretty well he felt, but… he’s not sure if they were friends or in some weird middle stage after… something, happened.

twice.

he still can’t go into the b216 laundry room without his ears getting all red.

(not that he regretted it or that he would mind even continuing being just friends after that! but you know—just something to talk about later!)

“are you ready for me to kick your butt in volleyball?” he cups one hand next to his mouth, calling out to her now like he wasn’t just thinking about the things they did some time ago. for all intents and purposes, they were just two pals hitting a ball around. “do you want me to go over to the rules a bit more or are we just winging it?”

[onlygaram]

things are a bit confusing with yujin. not because things had particularly changed. in some ways, they hadn't. easy going, fun, always charmed by his company, always happy to talk with him. but ever since that night, several weeks ago-- emotionally lost and confused, free for the first time... she hadn't meant for all the things that happened to, well, happen.

but he made it a bit easier. really, yujin made everything easy. that was his way, wasn't it? it's why he was her friend, it's why she thought everyone should like him, really.

she was stretching, one arm pinned over her chest, biceps warming up like her ears if she kept her train of thought as it was. so instead, she focuses up. giving him a competitive little squint. "i've never lost at anything and i'm not starting today, yujin."

well it's an exaggeration but, one has to talk as if the win is secured. it never hurts. "i've played before, a little. kinda. no more explaining, that stuff is boring." she waves it off with a wave of her hand as she finishes up her stretching. "give it to me!" she calls to him, falling into a comfy stance with a frighteningly serious glint in her eyes. she was quite confident she could return the ball a bit, at least.

[onlygaram]

( tomorrow's problem ) ; ⸺ + @lxckystrike !

it is unfortunately not a first for garam to be drunk, wobbling her walk forth with bright eyes and blood tingling in her cheeks. ears and cheeks red, lips tingling from the amount of beer she'd ingested— long ago unwound the scarf around her neck as inebriated flush took over her, and kicked her body temperature up a notch or two.

jinyoung. yoon jinyoung. confusing man, really. she was busy thinking about how things never went as they should when she met him— and then she met him again, of course. isn't that how it goes? they're wandering down the sidewalk, her shoulders bumping into his elbow, bicep, all of him, as she unsteadily set the course for... somewhere. the music of the party and the lights and the noise slowly drifting behind them, she pouted beneath the cool night sky.

he's on her left side, which happens to be her better, clearer side, and yet she wants to watch just in case. so that she won't miss a word he says; gazes up at him with big, glassy eyes (too close, really).

her frown doubles as she peers at him. "uh." she begins quite softly, a lilt to her low voice that carries so much less embarrassment than it should. "i forget, why are we..." (her step pattern falters, she teeters away from him in such a way that she might fully tip over), "ohh, wait. home. ok." he might have suggested it, or maybe she asked if he was busy, could take her home; the moment is lost to time. 30 minutes ago is too far gone for her at the moment, and all she can think of is spotting him beneath the dull fairy lights and wondering if she was that drunk that she was imagining things.

she laughs a bit (at nothing, at the slowly building excitement of being alone with him again, in hysteria at the awkward embarrassment she was currently suppressing, it's unclear), "is it ok? that you're bringing me, i mean." she asks for clarity quite belatedly, with words that run together a bit like water, like her namesake. "my hero." she jokes, even more belatedly, even more awkwardly but with great sincerity.

[dragonshq]

Looks like three months have flown by already.

We know it sounds repetitive at this point, but when we first opened we never imagined the community would grow into what it is today. Thank you for your continued support, creativity, and dedication to making this space thrive. We’re so grateful to everyone who has been with us since the very beginning, and to all the new faces who have joined along the way.

For the three month anniversary, we’re introducing the Scrapbook Meme. Think of it as a keepsake for your muse: fragments, doodles, and little memories gathered from their time at Yeonhwa so far. By reblogging this post, you’re opening the door for others to send you emojis from the prompt list, and you can answer however you’d like: through writing, headcanons, edits, moodboards, whichever way you’d like. It’s open-ended and meant to be as creative as you want!

This meme will run from September 20th to October 4th, which will give you about 3 weeks to reblog. If you choose to participate, please ensure that you send a question to everyone who has reblogged the post as well, whether this be on your character’s account or on anon. Once again, thank you so much for the amazing three months and we hope you have fun with this meme!

📸 — A candid photo or photos. 🧸 — A doodle or margin note they’d make. 🍜 — A favorite food memory worth recording. 💌 — A letter to your “day one” self. 🖇️ — A receipt, object, or little thing you’d keep as a memento. 🌙 — A late-night moment you’d scribble down. 📝 — A secret written and then crossed out. 📷 — A snapshot of your favorite campus spot. 🎂 — A wish written for the next three months. ☕ — A drink order that defines you right now. 💡 — A random idea or half-thought scribbled down. ✨ — A memory that feels like a movie scene. 🐇 — A superstition, ritual, or lucky charm. 💤 — A dream or daydream you’d jot down. 🔮 — A prediction for what’s next. 🕊️ — A page that feels blank. Describe why. ✈️ — Something that made you feel far from home. 🏠 — Something that made you feel at home. 🥂 — A celebration. 📂 — Something you’d want to hide between the pages. 🧷 — A messy scrap, something torn or crumpled. 🍭 — A small indulgence or guilty pleasure. 📍 — A map, doodle, or set of directions to somewhere important. 📮 — A letter you’d never send. 🎁 — A gift from someone. 💭 — A freeform slot. Sender can come up with their own prompt!

[thankyou-taeyeon]

HAEWON 'FE3O4 : Forward' jacket behind

[engraveing]

noeul doesn't know what made him sign up for this, not really. being around a lot of people all weekend isn't his cup of tea by any means, but he supposes the nature factor is what makes it sound like a nice enough experience. time away from the campus he hardly leaves to bask in the scent of surrounding trees, the sound of birds chirping in the early morning and cicadas at night, the seemingly never-ending glow of stars in the sky... a change in scenery is something to look forward to.

practically being the first person to board the bus has its perks, like the lottery pick in choosing where to sit without having to worry about being smushed in beside someone. settles in a window seat somewhere in the middle of the bus because he doesn't want to be the last one off nor the first face seen when other students arrive. naturally, he's ready to tune everything else out until they get to the campgrounds — headphones on, cd player coming to life on the track he was listening to last, half ready to keep his eyes closed just like this for the ride over, in peace.

but that idea doesn't last long at all, body resisting the urge to flinch as a shoulder gently brushes against his. when he glances sideways, it's garam, and that causes the faintest shift in his gaze. while he doesn't catch most of what she's saying to him at first, he does relax some, given that she's someone he's slightly more comfortable with — even grateful that she'll be the one occupying the neighboring seat. his shoulder leans against hers.

the headphones are moved down to rest around his neck, music playing faintly through them still, a soft hum that brings him a sense of comfort even without fully listening. ah, he really hadn't planned on talking to anyone... but she's here, bright-eyed and happy (?) to see him, a foreign concept for noeul's brain to accept, so his plan goes right out the bus window in the end. “you want to remember the bus?” there's a curl at the corner of his mouth, for the briefest of moments.

noeul feels her face lean in suddenly, and he stays still, blinking at the proximity. makes no move to pull away, though, simply... allowing it, even goes as far as to let his cheek touch hers. doesn't register that it's for a picture she's taking until curious eyes look over at her phone afterwards, their reflection in the frame of her screen staring back at him. “...you didn't warn me,” he murmurs, knowing that even if garam blatantly expressed wanting a picture together, he would've ducked out of it entirely.

while he doesn't offer a re-take photo where he actually poses with her, already pulling himself out of frame, he does open further conversation. he realizes then that he's missed her. “have you ever been camping before?” they have rooms, but... “at a place like where we're going?”

[onlygaram]

he was comfortable for her, more so than she understood, more than needed explaining. the little flick of a smile that lights up on his lips, in his eyes makes her laugh more so than the teasing words. because she'd earned that, in her own way.

"the bus, no. the noeul, yes." she said it brightly as she was moving, easy and familiar (almost too familiar, maybe, but that was her way), in his space. the picture is definitely blurry and way more of his face than hers, really (half of her face is out of frame, all of the focus on noeul as well), but she decides she'll print and hang it by her bed regardless.

"sorry~sorry." said as though she couldn't be less sorry if she tried, as she pats his knee and idly spends time making the blurry pic as the photo for his contact (the last was a candid of his side profile while hanging out at his dorm). "camping... hm, i don't think so," (she finishes her task and locks her phone, paying him her entire attention). "this kind of thing was never possible for me." she doesn't sound pitiful or sad as she says it, just a bit breezy. "the closest i've gotten is maybe, falling asleep on the low heated tables outside my aunts house..." she shrugs, raises a brow. she never traveled much when she was young; not only lack of money, but then all her misfortune that came after. she doesn't mind so much (she's making new memories now).

head drops back on the seat and then lulls over to face him, curious spark in her eyes (she knows nothing about noeul really, not enough for someone she considers a friend). "what about you? you don't strike me as the type to go camping or... out into the woods at all, i guess." she squints, "i don't know though. you're awfully mysterious to me. hard to guess things about you." even trying to guess is hard... there's a visible second where it seems like she's trying and very much failing before she shrugs. (she pictured him grilling meat surrounded by cricket sounds by the woods and her brain short circuited because it's so very far from what she's used to, and she gave up).

[lxckystrike]

frankly, jinyoung should be one of the last people on the campgrounds who gets to laugh at someone for an misfired choice of words. after all, he was infamously bad at saying what he really means, while being so gifted at saying things that were unwise, foolish, or both. yet, he can’t help but to chuckle silently internally at her sequence of comments just now, and just barely manages to cover it up by morphing it into some sort of half-cough, half-clearing of the throat.

not to mention, he’s having a hard time following the plot. he could in part blame it on the alcohol, but it was also just him and the unorthodox algorithms in his brain.

so she wasn’t cold. but was getting a cold. but thinks it’s actually hot. no, he’s hot. no, not like that. the temperature is hot. yet, she accepts his jacket, because it’s cold and somehow that makes her feel better?

it's not impossible. he understands how fevers work, the physics and basic anatomy of it all. but he's not too fussed with the logic or science of the end result, which is that somehow she feels incrementally better, with the beaming grin on her face to show for it. and somehow that makes him feel a tad bit better too.

the corner of his own lips curl upwards, not too high, loose, or free like hers, but slightly and securely, as if hung snugly on a hook; it's subtle, but stuck there for good. "well, i'm glad to hear. you can hold onto that. i'm sure i'll stay... hot for a while," he responds, his trademark sarcasm laced so finely into his voice, it's hard to tell if he's joking or genuinely so self-absorbed. their eyes meet for for a moment before he looks away, gaze fluttering over to the main crowd where there's somehow even more of a commotion than before. he may just be hearing voices in the wind at this point, but he swore he just heard the words 'capture the flag', and his ears perk up to that like a dog would to the word 'fetch'.

anyways, his attention comes back around, and he sits still for a moment before pressing the back of a hand against his forehead, letting it rest there for a few seconds. oddly enough, it feels quite nice. his hands and feet have always tended to run a bit cold (bad circulation, cold hearted, ‘ice in his veins’ — he’s heard the whole gambit of jokes made about it), while his head was always a bit too hot (this too); and that was even before the hours spent lounging by the fire tonight.

seemingly content with whatever he’s accomplished, he drops his arm and then buffers. there’s a hitch in the way he moves, but tonight, he goes ahead despite it, as his usual inhibitions are melting away under the heat of the flames, usual sense of ‘good’ judgement dissipating away like the wisps of smoke coming off.

he leans slightly forward, brows furrowing as he slowly but surely guides his hand towards her face and lightly lands the plane — the back of his palm — onto her forehead, just as he did to his own moments ago. he lets out a single laugh, very well understanding how futile his means of checking her temperature was.

“yeah, i don’t know… you might have a fever. or you might not. clearly i’m no doctor.” he drops his hand, shrugging as he lets out a long, drawn out sigh. pulling away, he offers a thin smile, slightly apologetic for letting his invasive thoughts win -- or whatever that was.

“well make sure you stay hydrated at least. with water, for avoidance of doubt.” typical jock solution to any problem in life — drink more water. put some ice on it. pop some painkillers. done giving his useless with his ‘medical’ advice, he clasps his hands together and blows in them. "are you going to take it easy the rest of the night?"

[onlygaram]

her head feels billowy like the smoke that mingles with the clouds above them. his obvious amusement at her words does very little to bring it back to earth; her ears burn hotter, her teeth gnawing over her lip as her thoughts drift out of control. his comment makes her hide her face a bit, ducks down to smile, her hair slipping across her cheeks. when she looks back she has a soft, crooked grin.

"right... now that i think about it, you were hot last time i saw you, too." she rubs her lips together, unable to keep the nervous laugh from escaping them (she can't believe she just willingly referenced the closet debacle of a century that she still thinks about to this day in embarrassed agony). (it must be the alcohol, and not his grin, his silent laugh).

there's a part of her still reeling from the words coming out of her own mouth when the world shifts faster than usual. her lashes flutter in a quick rhythm when he tilts her direction and then his cool skin is laid across her scorching forehead. her entire body goes completely rigid like he was headlights and it triggered her shut down response. her lips turned down in a surprised frown.

they were locked in a room together for at least an hour and he didn't touch her, he doesn't even dare to touch her in her dreams, where he has no power (though neither does she, or he might have— oh she's definitely drunk, huh, with the way her thoughts are quick moving through the forbidden things).

she unfreezes when he pulls away, the frown melting back to a grin that's awkward in a terribly feather, light way. "oh, god.." she chews her lip and shakes her head, "it's ok. i don't think doctors do it that way anyway." she laughs (it's all nerves, that sound). "thank you. for trying."

she tries to meet his eyes, to see if she can read him, the why, the who of him. she can't read this man to save her life (maybe now, sick and inebriated, isn't the time).

"water..." she repeats quietly and nods with a cheeky sort of brow raise. she glances at the soju sitting by her feet that she had been sipping on. and his follow up wonder as she was pondering just how far from his suggestion she was, draws her in on herself a bit. a gentle curve of her back as she leans forward to look at him and listen. his jacket falls softly around her shoulders with her, and she reaches out to fiddle with the sleeves in idle motion.

she seems to consider the words carefully. "i'll try. i don't know if i have the energy to get into trouble this time." a little shrug, "that said, trouble tends to find me." her eyes skip around his face as if she's looking for something again (is that what he is? or is she the trouble between them)?

without much chance to question it, she reaches out (slow, tentative, with eyes that implore him to humor her); and grabs his nearest hand in hers. she presses his fingers between her palms. her hands are hot and almost clammy, smaller than his. visible amusement over her face as she looks at his hand in between hers. she releases him gently, lifting one of her hands so he could withdraw if he wanted "your hands are cold..." she muses about it. she reaches up with her free hand and touches her own forehead and certainly compared to his hand it's absolutely scalding. she pouts. now she really can't tell... either she has a fever or he's the coldest man to exist.

still...truthfully, she just curious about touching him, was incapable of resisting the urge in this state.

[campmireu]

get lost! featuring @onlygaram

alright... he'll admit it. maybe going out without a map of the trails wasn't the brightest idea he's ever had.

kiwoo comes to a sudden halt, hands on his hips, tapping his foot impatiently as he looks up to the sky. hard to tell if he’s attempting to guide himself by the stars or just praying to whatever’s out there to show him the way out of this forest. “we’re getting closer. i can feel it.” a little white lie to quell the nerves. he turns to sneak a peek at garam, tossing her a little grin. “trust me.” famous last words.

“totally unrelated, by the way, but um…” he purses his lips, “does that tree look vaguely familiar to you?” really, all the trees are kinda blending into one vague memory now. but that one in particular— the branch is fucked up. they’ve passed this before. he knows it. how long have they been walking in circles?

he squints, as if that’ll suddenly make a path appear, trying to remember which direction they went the last time they went through here. his focus is broken when something rustles in the bushes just behind garam. kiwoo jumps, eyes suddenly wide as he grabs her arm and yanks her closer to him. it’s sudden— he realizes it half a second too late that he probably just scared the shit out of her. “— sorry, i’m sorry! but shhhh!” he brings a finger up to his lips for emphasis. “there’s something in there…”

[onlygaram]

kiwoo is so often at the scene of her crimes, and she had gotten quite used to him being reliable and lovable in his ability to stick through it. but this isn't her crime, for once. she's out of her depths. what happens when they're in a pickle not because of her but because of the the mere folly of man (failure to bring a fucking map)?

she's glued to him, so close that when he turns around to look at her she's all but point blank, close enough that his words breathe against her cheek. she bobs her head in a jerky nod. "of course i trust you." she says it so quietly she almost can't hear herself (if she speaks too loudly what if the evil that's definitely absolutely in these woods came for them)...?

well... she grimaces, teeth bared and an awkward little shrug of her shoulders. "i'll be honest, all of it and yet none of it looks familiar." she mutters, her palms hooked gently around his bicep, shimming close enough that walking next to him becomes a little difficult not to just outright step on him. "don't look at me about it— i'm trusting you to save us."

she had been inspecting the trees to try to see if he's right (do they look the same? the same in the way where they're finally on track or in that way where they're going in circles... she can't be sure)— so his spring of movement and closing the already very tiny gap between them makes her all but screech, dying slightly in the air as she swallows it so they don't get eaten. "shit, kiwoo," she whisper yells, balling his shirt in her fist, using it to shake him lightly, because now he's shushing her and shaking him is the only way she can take it out on him for how badly he scared her.

a slow tilt of her head in a vague direction that might be 'there', rolling her lips together from her nerves. she looks back to him with some urgency (though she saw nothing but darkness and leaves (and heard even less) and she thinks that's worse somehow), "let's hurry." she clings to him, her fists leaving his shirt and she scoops his palm into hers and pulls him the opposite direction in a rapid stalk away. "this is the vaguely familiar tree right?" she's whispering, and has to look at him to see if he replied, (it is not the vaguely familiar tree, as it were), "it's this way. for sure." she sounds quietly confident beneath that terrified tremor (and she squishes his hand to death as she pulls him).

[grimbound]

garam is—

she is an enigma.

in every sense of the word.

she says what she doesn't mean, does what she doesn't want to do. ( not a fan—she'd told him before going for a second try, less hesitant. he watches her, watches the way her lips wrap around his cigarette, watches how the smoke escapes from her, slow, like it wants to stay. "not your first time," he muses. same enunciation, same teasing grin. as if it's some sick inside joke. )

( they're good at that, aren't they? pretending. always pretending. )

there are a lot of things he doesn't know about garam now that he thinks about it. there are also a lot of things she doesn't know about him. she doesn't ask. usually. not the important questions, at least. ( not that he would answer them. ) and him—well, he doesn't care to ask. distracted—that was her excuse. i was distracted. he doesn't know what she's been up to, but he knows that, if he were to ask, his question wouldn't be 'by what?' it would be 'by whom?'

the answer stares him right in the face, two sizes too big.

"a secret?"

here's the thing about lucas. the thing that everyone loves and hates about him: he's got the audacity. so what if garam is wearing another guy's jacket? that's practically code for staking claim. he knows, and yet he still shifts onto his back so he can lay his head on her lap. at the end of the day, if garam doesn't want him around, she can push him away. tell him to fuck off, and he'll respect that.

but he has a feeling that she won't.

not when he gets like this.

lucas brings his hand up, fingers loose around the cigarette he's taken back from her. he catches it with his teeth. takes a drag, lazy, non-committal. draws it out half-way and drops his arm to the side, letting it dangle off the bench. his eyes appear to smile up at her as he exhales through slightly parted lips. smoke—suffocating, intoxicating smoke wafts between them, shrouding his view of her for a moment. and then—

it clears, its scent the only memory left behind.

"depends," lucas says. hums it, really. "is it going to break my heart?"

[onlygaram]

there is a delicate art to both holding on so tight knuckles go white and sore, and letting go of all the sharp things that gnaw at her. she can let things go. that part is easy; everything he does wrong is easier when she doesn't have to look at him for just a minute, just a moment. and holding on is even more effortless. that one comes by nature.

his words lodge themselves in her, by their nature. provoking, maybe, whether he means it to be or not. but what is it that it pokes at, what tender part of her? she can't be sure anymore. does it hurt or... "i usually have a good reason to be."

he torments her with his stupid gaze, sitting here looking so at home. appearing every bit like she remembered and that's the fucking part that kills her. she wanted it to be different. why else walk away. why else take the break? why else hate him so much those few weeks of unprocessed misery?

all this frustration and sadness in her. he blows out his smoke and slides into her, head in her lap and all those emotions wash away suddenly. she sighs... alcohol breath, apple soju tickles his hair. (what's left to lose, she wonders? when she's let it all go already...)

her gaze scatters across his face at his words, looking for any sort of tell; how much is sincerity, how much is... lucas. (her head aches, her cheeks are hot and pink, her body feels heavy— how much space is left in her for whatever he would make her feel)?

she seems quite serious when she answers, really. "i'm not sure." her hands go twin places; chipped fingernails dig into his hair, and with her other hand she reaches out to toy at the neckline of his shirt restlessly.

but there's a softness to her gaze that she isn't hiding. "say you won't be mad at me—" she touches lightly (much more gently than usual). "i missed you." she gives him a frown, a pout really, amused at herself, (she's thrown in the towel; his heat, weight, is far too familiar for fighting). she scrunches her nose at him and shrugs. "i gave up."

she missed him equal parts as much as she was angry with him even now. she keeps that part to herself.

[andechoverie]

men ain't shit with @onlygaram

the crowd waiting for the bus was larger than hwaseong remembered it being when they arrived here. though that could be because he was paying no attention while getting on the first time. the post event clarity hit him hard this morning and he was so sure he'd been tame this time around. the headache, cotton mouth, and sore limbs though tell him a different story.

he's about to put in his airpods when he spots someone who looks worse off than him. no hesitation as he crossed the space to be at her side, a hand gently to her elbow to get her attention. "noona? are you feeling okay?" he asks, voice muffled behind the black mask resting over his mouth but his brows are furrowed to show his concern.

he knows it's not really nice to be like 'hey you look bad' so he's kind of hoping she just admits to feeling sick instead of playing strong. his need to make sure the people he cares for are okay would override whatever manners he feels he would be breaking by commenting on her current state.

[onlygaram]

everything is tired. being sick is hardly surprising when she'd had the weekend she had, when she took the risks she did. she's bad at risk— well actually, she's a little too good at them. she takes them all but every day. that said they always backfire, don't they? any repercussions always hit her like a wrecking ball, right through her.

that's today, that's her fever, the hangover headache combined with the body aches, the unnatural heat that makes her feel a little woozy when she stands. knees weak, pupils blown. she doesn't register that he's there until he's closer, shifting to look at him and despite how lost she'd looked, her expression finds some way to shift down lower and softer. "oh, hwa," she rolls her lips together a bit anxiously at the sight of him, "i..." almost denies it, but she hesitates.

lucas isn't coming back, is he?

she sighs a bit. no point in being brave. not much point in any of it at the moment. so she just shakes her head, jerky, small motions. "do you want to sit with me? please." she makes the decision. she'd planned to sit with lucas, because she thought... well what she thought doesn't matter. holds her hand out to him, linking their palms and sighing so heavily it's a bit ragged at the edges.

[0hw3llw0rld]

minhyun is known to make bad decisions, didn't matter if he was sober or drunk, he was here to have fun and ejoy the few days of getaway from the city with friends. that was exactly what he was doing, making bad decisions, having fun and then suffering the consequences. why else would he be out at the dock searching for his socks in the dark. not even a flashlight, nothing, his phone was dead and in his pocket. it was him and fractions of the moonlight against the world right now.

he didn't loose the skinny dipping bet with agatha, but he joined because it seemed fun. sobering as well. majority of reasons, but he didn't care about most of them. he was tipsy and wanted a dip. didn't want to leave he alone to it as well, be a gentleman- well if he was, he would have let her win the last badminton match, but alas, he was compeditive as well. wanted to prove a point.

"where the fuck are the…" he's muttering under his nose as he moves around slowly and staring way too hard at the ground for the hopes of a white pair of nike socks to spawn. minhyun does hear movement, but he blames it on the water, probably washing up somethinge he doesn't know, doesn't care- until he looks up to see where he was actually going and get greeted by someone.

he also, jumps three feet in the air and has to clutch at his heart, mouth agape "what the actual fuck-" he wheezes out, eyes wide as he tries to make out what he is seeing. it's a girl, for sure, he can tell because of the hair, and a- "is that a life preserver ring?" minhyun has to question, brain pre-occupied with why the fuck would someone have that with them in the middle of the night.

[onlygaram]

out at night looking for herself jarred by the cold, murky water surface. garam wondered could she find what she was looking for by doing risky things bet to her by strangers with too-big smiles. maybe so, right? maybe if she could have impressed them, she'd have made new friends, or felt like she was doing more, better. that the world was her oyster, at last.

instead she was ending up shivering, goosebumps crawling her skin, awkwardly caught in compromising positions. it'd be funny if she wasn't scared out of her mind when he first shows up. at least they mutually scare each other, so she doesn't have to be quite so embarrassed.

she squeezes the ring closer to her and wonders about disappearing before she's brave enough to look up. an awkward, tense grimace. "it's.. an emergency." it is not a joke though it sounds like one.

and then she steps closer. "minhyun?" and she shuffles four steps closer, a pout on her face, "minnnnnhyun! god, i was so scared." dripping, shivering a bit, hiding all of her parts just barely. "help, i think my clothes are gone. ok, i know they are..." her lips press together... it's hardly the craziest position he'd caught her in, really. so it's the one break she's likely to get. one of her hands comes away from the ring to reach for him, grabby hands, waving him closer. "help."

[onlygaram]

𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆𝗴𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗺  i'm not afraid of anything !!! just wait ٩(｡•́‿•̀｡)۶

[grimbound]

it helps. the nicotine. just a little, just to take the edge off where alcohol couldn't. lucas draws the cigarette from his lips and taps it with his index finger to loosen the ashes. a wisp of smoke escapes from him, swirling into the late summer night sky. to his right, stragglers from the talent show continue vying for their pride. to his left is a stranger on their fifth beer. ( they offer lucas a sip. he waves them off. )

"garam looks pretty tonight," the stranger muses.

lucas follows their gaze across the bonfire where a familiar face ( and a familiar ache ) sits with a jacket too big for her slender shoulders. he knows it's not hers. at least, not originally. but he doesn't let that thought linger longer than it needs to. it's been three weeks since he last heard from her. that's three weeks without a hit. the first 48 hours were absolute hell, but like most things in life, he got used to it—the absence of warmth. the loneliness of it all.

he catches her eye. or perhaps she catches his. her lips move to form a word that he can't decipher, but he has a feeling that it's hey.

how have you been?

did you miss us?

the stranger shifts next to him. "i haven't been able to catch her all weekend. ... hey, you're tight with her, right? think she'll talk to me?"

"fuck off." his heart thrums against his chest, steady, as he pushes himself up from leaning back against the log. there's still a light buzz in his head, beer still fragrant on his tongue as he makes his way over. it's casual, the way he settles into the space next to her as if he owns it. "you've been elusive"—is how he greets her. not with a hey, hello back, not with a well-warranted apology, but with a quiet, listless observation. "haven't seen you around."

the cigarette dangles between his fingertips. he toys with it, flicks it, touches it to his lips. pauses. then offers it to her, his dark eyes coaxing. "wanna try?" his intentions are no longer innocent. if she borrows her breath from him, she'll be breathing in poison.

[onlygaram]

the watching pastime aside, she had been doing very little when she spotted him, beckoned him, really. standing just far enough from the fire not to feel it (the only heat was already wrapped around her shoulders), and with the beer in her hand. garam is not surprised— lucas talks to someone, a spark of light casts over him and to her eyes it was brighter and more compelling than the fire raging nearby. she isn't surprised he came to her, ditched whoever he was talking to (he was good at that), to find her specifically (he was oddly good at that, too, she thought, though he usually denied it).

he folds in next to her and she breathes him in on the air.

here's what she could say: 'of course it's been a while. you told me to go to somewhere else, someone else, and i said i would leave. i can keep my promises to you. it's the least i should do.' . . . she could sigh, she could maintain the distance they had been doing so, so good to stretch out. for the first time since she'd met him, she wasn't an island, stalwart, surrounded by him, sometimes fully submerged.

the words hang in her throat, the thoughts in her eyes. elusive. one word for it. one word for him. instead of all that she could say, should say perhaps, the words come from a different place instead. head tilts his direction, licking her lips to deliver the words. "i was distracted." distracting herself. she dares to look amused about it, like an inside joke.

her eyes focus on the way it touches his lips, but mostly his fingers that hold it. meets his eyes when he looks, never afraid to do that (she loved and hated the things she saw in their depths). she pants a bit of a laugh through the smoke that kicks up. "never liked these, even from a distance," she scrunches her nose, a shake of her head, reaching out, careful not to touch those fingers as she pulls it from them. she had half a mind to throw it to the ground and stamp it out. do them both that favor. but what's one cigarette going to save? there's too many more where it came from and he won't be stopping, will he? not just because she said so. she makes lasting eye contact and the smoke waves between them, and the cigarette shrinks for a few seconds... she looks at it, then to her lips it goes without much more hesitation.

she inhales it tentatively, inexperienced and light (it burns just a bit, she can feel it expanding in, dragging through her)— her head is already floaty, tipsy, body heavy in an inexplicably, bone deep fatigue. she blows smoke and grimaces with a heavy, pouty sort of frown. her bottom lip is consigned between her teeth after, then she shakes her head, "not a fan," she sounds quite serious but then she glances to him with a radiant softness, a little teasing grin. "it's worse this way." her dark eyes flick to his lips. she prefers the taste another way, she supposes. she tries again, another drag, this one a little more steady, and exhales it through her nose (might as well try it all while she can, right?)

finally a bit done testing, she passes it back with a delicate (trembling) hand. and she stares at him... can't help it. at least 3 weeks since she'd seen his face on more than her home screen. leaning down she blindly places her beer to the ground, uninterested, and shifts herself so she's angled on the bench towards him. "can i tell you a secret?" the words are so quiet that she can't even hear herself. "or is that not allowed?"

[lxckystrike]

there’s few things about human interactions that frustrate him quite as much as pity. in his experience, it’s typically cheap and easy to dish out, but doesn’t really do nothing for the recipient. limp hugs, sorry looks, and trite variations of apologies or condolences (as if anyone were at fault except himself). pity provided no fixes, solutions, or ways forward. if anything, it just made it crystal clear: that there were none of those available. just feelings and ‘thoughts’ from people he doubted ever meant them, and never from the people he wanted them from.

he acknowledges her thanks with a mere nod before addressing what really stuck out to him. “well… you’re not pitiful. may be a tad cursed,” he quips with little smirk. “but no. i’m not pitying you,” he makes clear, sitting up a little straighter. there’s a pause afterwards, slightly dramatic, mostly wandering. because if not pity, what was it? his mind sifts through a rolodex of words that might fit, but he’s never been too smooth with those, and the chances he would start now were slim; whatever wits he had were sloshing in too many shots of whatever the bonfire ‘bartender’ was serving up.

“i’m just--” being nice? imprecise. courteous? not really his thing. looking out for you? cringe. caring? cringe and uncalled for.

“crashing. just for a bit.” the syllables come out with slight hitches in between, as he’s confusing himself too. but he doesn’t explain himself further; he rarely does because he rarely can. sometimes he ‘just’ says things, but it’s not always baseless. like right now, there’s something to be said about how he wasn’t asked to, didn’t have to, and hadn’t planned to be here with her. yet somehow, here he is.

he raises his voice a little in attempts to move on from that tangled mess of a statement. “but wait — you said you’re getting a cold? or you are cold?” his brows furrow, as either way, it was sort of puzzling. late summer wasn’t quite peak flu season (though with rooms of five people each, unsurprising if some campus plague spreads by the end of the weekend) — and “if it’s the latter, have you noticed how there’s literally a fire here? maybe go cozy up to it?” his tone is a little taunting, but he did resist the urge to tell her to go chug some soju instead — a good, ole alcohol coat — so he is showing some restraint here.

belatedly he wonders if he’s being a tad insensitive, or whether she’d take any offense to his joke(?). shockingly, when he’s being a bit of an asshole, he usually realizes it (and does it anyway). “or uh… would you like my jacket?” he asks, head slightly a tilt. it comes out more unsure and lukewarm than he had intended, so he gives it a second go. “for real. i’m running hot enough,” he assures her, preempting a possible rejection (because damn, that’d be sort of embarrassing for his rare attempt at chivalry) by halfway slithering off one sleeve of his zip-up hoodie.

[onlygaram]

there's something frozen and blue in her expression, even as the firelight catches on the side of her face, she can't quite hide the wonder. is it because she's under the influence, alcohol, whatever cotton is slowly stuffing her head and turning her temperature up from the inside? she can't be sure. maybe it's just him. his smirk and voice, lowly reassuring her as she leans in a bit to listen closer.

celebrating around them, music and screeching noise (it could be talent, it could be a choir singing she isn't listening, it's too far, too buried beneath the noise pollution, and not nearly so valuable as straining to hear him). she can't summon a response (calling it speechless isn't right; she ruminates on it).

he starts— her eyes are steady and some of that color shifts from her eyes, softer, easier— there's pause, then he continues, only a second but it stands— her lips go crooked, pressed together to contain some sort of smile. a gust of amused sigh as she finally speaks her mind, finally. "crashing, huh" she repeats, he is kind of like that, isn't he? in a way hard to explain. it comes across light enough, teasing even.

he crashes again; moves on quick and she frees the laugh this time, soft and quick. not making fun... is it endearment? enjoyment. she isn't sure. she blames the floating sensation she feels.

she lifts her hands to wave off the check in, but then he keeps speaking and her palms pause, her head tilted, eyes a bit bright. "i.. yes i have eyes." she doesn't take offense, visibly a bit amused as she scrunches her nose and squints in faux disapproval. "getting a cold, wiseguy— moving closer to the fire feels like dying right now, it's way too hot." she pouts a bit. perhaps because her temperature was already a bit high? felt like overheating.

"oh..." she blinks at him, completely caught off guard. watching him shimmy out already is a hell of a thing. he's always moving so fast, careening through it all before she can get herself together and adjust to him. crashing. she chuckles again, a flush coming over her. "uh. i mean. again it would be polite to refuse maybe but—" she casts her eyes about like, it was obvious— but then she reaches out, palms up, soft glance, "—alright. since you're already so hot." god, she refuses to be embarrassed by saying that (her face heating up hotter, ears going redder, maybe it didn't happen, maybe it was invisibly to him she can't be sure but she can hope).

she looks away for maybe the first time, glancing away as he moves and her thoughts are the ones crashing now. she extends her hand to take it, fingertips soft on the fabric, delicate like it was made of fine rice paper, would dissolve at a touch. she clutches it in her hands gently, unable to resist gazing at it for a second. warm... (she loosely tosses it over her shoulders to try to be normal about it..).

she sighs softly at the instant relief, the warmth she hadn't realized she needed until it was wrapped around her. she shivers a bit, visible, rocking through her like a little tidal wave. "oh much better, i won't lie..." she turns to look at him again, huge smile.

[onlygaram]

( next to you ) ; ⸺ + @engraveing !

it's not that garam is excited about this weekend... but it is a nice distraction, especially when everything in her life wasn't making a bit of sense lately. so complicated, if nothing else. miserable also came to mind. but so did.... butterflies.

she shakes her head and loads onto the big bus bright and early— very early. there's, in fact, so few people filling any of the seats it would be so easy to fold into an empty one. let fate drop her someone in next to her, that would be fun (sigh... she has no faith it would be someone she wants, with her luck, with her attitude for assuming the worst).

she head and face counts. strangers, one maybe (where... where did she even recognize them), noeul and then... noeul. oh she bounded down the isle, from casually strolling and glancing to all but jogging, bag bouncing at her back. she took it off and then plunked down beside him with it in her lap instead.

"aah, my friend," she tilted her head, eyes a little too sparkly for 8am all but on the dot in the morning; clearly happy to see him. "you saved me from having to suffer a stinky bus buddy i wouldn't even want to talk to." she's close, their shoulders touching.

last she saw him they were sprawled across his place, art and reading, paralleling in comfortable silence. still a strangely comforting, fond memory. she realizes she doesn't spend quite enough time with him. on the whim, she lifts her phone out of her jean pockets and leans her head close to him— the front view camera of their faces as she put her cheek way too close to him, "i want to remember this." she tells him and smiles, snaps a picture that's probably a little unfocused and there's no guarantee he's even looking.

[onlygaram]

( septembers longing ; monthly prompt )

what is longing? oh. everything. cw; vague mentions of garam's health issues when she was young !

han garam is 17 years old and that's way too old to have dreams, really. right? her family can't really afford to have them, anyway. her heart can't spare the beats for speeding up at the almost, and her eyes couldn't really muster the tears about it.

does it really stop her?

when she's 17 years old what she longs for is innumerous. so many as the stars.

she wants her friends from school (which she no longer attends), to have missed her. (can't be sure; they don't reach out after the first few months, only one). of course she wants to feel better. it's exhausting to be exhausted? they didn't tell her that, forgot to maybe, but it's such a circle. it is what it does and does what it is and she's tired and that makes her tired.

learning to sign makes it easier because then she doesn't have to worry about speaking, and she doesn't need to worry about doing much of anything but laying in her bed and reading books or watching videos about what to say. exactly what to say. cuts out the middleman.

she wants to be past this part, mostly. skip to the part where she knows everything already. maybe she won't be so tired, so lonely. work at the corner store soup shop down the road, quietly attend to the stoves while the halmeoni at the counter talks kindly at her just quiet enough that she doesn't have to hear it; can just smile and nod.

is that what we call a dream?

ah. she does have at least one.

ꕤ

attending university isn't the plan and so, she never had the chance to yearn for it. there was never a chance, and then all of a sudden, there was a hill to climb to get there. it wasn't a dream, then, it wasn't a want, it was a task. her mother picked up a second job. too much rode on such a thing to call it something like that.

but she made it and she may, perhaps, considered it a dream then. when she entered the first big doors in the city. it was enough to kick start whatever broken automations there were inside of her, collecting dust about things.

she met lucas the very very same day she remembered what it meant to want something.

she wanted to learn how to ride a horse just because she could? isn't it a novel thought? the easiest thing in the world to do; sign a paper, ask a question. introduce herself.

first year and garam remembers what it means to be able to do whatever she wants. maybe, perhaps, she could take some solace in that, when she looks back.

friends, mostly. that's what she wants. memories, oh to have new memories. dabin makes it easier than it should be at first and then he makes it harder but she can't let that stop her...

there's too much to want. so much.

ꕤ

oh...

she longs for whatever that is; as she watches the small groups of people at the lunch tables, gathered, chatting happily, sharing secrets (she imagines), being good at the same things. she wonders if they dream about the same things, too.

oh, she wants it so badly-- to belong. her knuckles ache for that, her lip becomes so familiar with the jagged line of her teeth when she thinks about all the things she's missing out on, and all the people who could call her a friend, tell her their dreams.

what a waste it would be not to long for things, really. is it living if there isn't an indescribable ache for things?

maybe she can think that because she had been on the other side. that longless place. the void where dreams can't breathe. her body ached their, her heart, too. alone. muffled world around her, afraid to want for more just yet.

not anymore.

if she ever stops yearning, it's the end of her.

ꕤ

she sighs.

her body is tired of having a place to fall but not stay. there's so many friends and so much to do and there's even... dare she remember... touch, love? well. it isn't love, she thinks. but she longs to know for sure that it is.

to be chosen

wouldn't it be novel? would it be lovely to not have to question it.

she's thought about this plenty, lots, all of the time; if she was chosen, it would stand to reason that she would have nothing left to long for then-- when she wants to be chosen, and she needs to long, what is left when she is chosen?

what a trick question...

everything else, of course.

all of those things still, with someone who chooses to see it with her. she's thought of this. she yearns for that. a secret. if she asks, tells, it isn't the same. she'll continue wanting, waiting.

there is much left to want for.

as many wishes as there are stars. (her favorite pass time).