Wonyoung for Hapa Kristin
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@recklessromance
Wonyoung for Hapa Kristin
welcome to ansong's first ask meme weekend! we hope these can help you all learn more about each other's muses and foster lots of in character interactions! to participate in the ask meme weekend please reblog this post! we ask that you please only send questions to those who have reblogged the post. please try to send out at least five questions or prompts to different muses for them to answer before answering your own! this ask meme weekend will last from november 15th until november 17th @ 11:59pm est. while you can only send in asks during this timeframe, you have up until november 29th @ 11:59pm est to answer any you received! for these, any three emoji memes answered OR any one dialogue starter prompt will count towards next week's activity check (november 23rd)! please tag all these as as:meme001 and, of course, have fun! <3
› growing together with @recklessromance . . . 🌱
there's nothing more exciting than frequenting the farmers market during the autumnal season - each stall is bursting with an abundance of different vegetables, all shapes and sizes and ripe for the taking. there's warm desserts waiting to be devoured, juices and ciders bottled up, and cozy trinkets that entice each patron who passes. danbi would consider herself to be a more frugal person, but she couldn't resist purchasing some hand-knitted plant cozies a few stalls down. she had even bought her companion one, along with a miniature desk plant, thinking it would be a nice decoration while the other spent her hours studying. it wasn't anything extravagant, but a small token of gratitude for tagging along with her today.
"is there anything in particular you're craving today?" danbi finds herself standing in front of a table full of fresh herbs and spices, chocolate orbs shifting over them before she turns to glance up at the younger female. it's become a little bit of a ritual that they'll attend the market and then head back to danbi's to have something to eat. she always wants to make sure yijung doesn't go hungry, especially since she seems to constantly be engrossed in so many responsibilities. from school to part-time jobs, danbi worries the other might forget to eat here and there. the least she can do is make sure she gets a home-cooked meal once a week.
"we could maybe make a nice soup," she mentions after a few seconds, eyes turning back to the bundles of plants lined up on the table. the seller offers up a suggestion that there are some delicious pumpkins being sold a few stalls down, so they could always try and make some pumpkin stew - certainly on trend for the season. danbi acknowledges the table owner with a small nod before she smiles up towards yijung, soft and gentle and letting her know that she's fine with anything the younger might want to eat. "what do you think?"
there's a slight roundness to her cheeks that'd been absent upon her arrival.
yijung doesn't notice, because she doesn't scrutinise her reflection anymore. the thought's never occurred to her in ansong--- the mirror's only for washing up in the mornings and making sure she looks presentable. she's got far too much clamouring for her attention; why on earth would she, or anyone, ever just be standing around nitpicking perceived flaws?
she eats well, sleeps well, lives well. plans her days out and fills them with activities and commitments that make meaning out of her time, creating little spots of happiness amongst the mundanity of working and studying.
danbi's one of them. they're vastly different on paper, but there's a thing or two yijung could learn from the other. (her miso soup recipe, for one.)
sundays are for learning to live slow. they meet at 9am at the entrance of the farmers' market, and while perusing the market's offerings, share leftover pastries from sweet bean that yijung swipes the night before. on the not-infrequent occasion they find something good, they head back to danbi's to make something for brunch.
it's odd--- their stovetops are the exact same model and the ingredients identical, but yijung simply can never recreate the way it tastes; never quite the same as when they're sitting cross-legged across from each other, on the living room floor laughing over something stupid.
"putting my vote in for pumpkin stew!" yijung's already trotting towards the stall. always one to get ahead of herself, she remembers belatedly that the actual chef's behind her, pausing for the other to catch up and offering to link arms. not one for physical contact generally, it's a rare offer. "i mean, iiiiiiif that sounds good to you too." more convincing if her eyes weren't sparkling at the prospect and she wasn't on the verge of salivating.
a way to cut through the week's tedium, yijung had signed up on a whim upon seeing the studio's promotional pricing for her first 3 classes. who would've thought that being severely humbled in front of a pottery wheel would end up being her choice of a wednesday night engagement?
"okaaaaay." yijung pauses, sizing up the lump of clay before her. it's a far cry from @niccho's, but she's spent too long slaving over it--- and they haven't even gotten to the actual throwing! she'd come in a little earlier today, proclaiming she was going to wedge her own clay, but a quick look at the clock reminds her that if she hadn't been so confident, she'd already be way further in failing to make her own piece.
no matter, of course. it'll surely all be smooth-sailing from here onwards. this is her, what, 4th class? yijung's absolutely sure there are no air bubbles in her own wedge, and there's zero chance of it exploding in the kiln! "i think- no, this is good. right?"
@recklessromance
there’s a routine he’s been falling into lately, ever since yijung’s taken up her spot behind the counter of the café. on friday mornings like this, their shifts coincide: when daeho gets off work and passes by the place she’ll be standing there blinking sleep out of her eyes. and yeah, maybe he thinks the coffee’s overpriced, but it’s not like he’s ordering off the menu - and yijung charges him for americanos, admittedly less than what the ingredients would be worth even if he made his drinks at home.
there’s a chime that rings as he steps through the door. daeho’s appearance clashes with the decor: styled hair, all black clothes, the look of a man who hasn’t slept in a day. it takes him a moment to dig his wallet out of his pocket, and when he does his eyes catch on the orange of yijung’s shirt, the pumpkin-adjacent getup she’s been sporting for weeks now. just three more days, then they might start bringing out seasonal santa hats. he hasn’t said it to her, but the colour really doesn’t suit her all that well - or maybe it’s just that his eyes are tired after the night, even with the glasses he’s wearing now that he’s clocked out.
“morning”, he greets, leans his hip against the counter. daeho’s really looking forward to get off his feet sometime soon. “i’ll have the usual. sleep well, yijung?”
daeho's almost always one of her first couple customers on days like these; a good preamble to the friday morning rush that's sure to follow. with him, she's long since given up on forcing her capitalistic grimace smile- it's too early for really anyone to pretend like they're actually happy to be working and not in bed. like clockwork, he pushes the door open, right as she's brewing her own cup of coffee.
she waves in response to his greeting, before filling a cup with ice and water. "can't complain, but i'm sure you've got a lot to say." being in customer service's bonded them in a tentative acquaintanceship, forged in the flames of consumers' irrational anger. yijung's a little chirpier than usual, a result of actually sleeping well the night before; evident by the faded creases of her pillow on her right cheek and the bit of pep in her step. she knows very well it'll disappear by the end of her shift, but daeho finds himself in a spot of luck today.
"i'm feeling nice today, so." yijung pours the shot into her glass, giving it a quick swirl. "what are the vibes we're going for today? what are we feeling? hot? cold?" she takes a sip from her drink, giving him time to ponder. her eyes rove over the assortment of syrups and ingredients, mind already cooking up possible combinations.
WONYOUNG KERASTASE BEHIND
intended for : anyone ! setting : the laundromat at the apartment complex details : technophobe sulyeon forgets how to use her phone
as washers and driers whirred and tumbled within the small jeoseung complex laundry area , sulyeon drummed her fingers upon the empty seat next to her in boredom . it wasn't that her clothes had any smell to them other than her typical scent , but she'd taken to doing laundry anyway out of habit and as a way to fill time . time was something she seemed to have a never - ending surplus of , and she still wasn't entirely sure how to feel about that . her ankles rotating restlessly in rhythm with her tapping now , she suddenly remembered the mobile device in her pocket . it was a genuine marvel , unlike anything she could remember before coming to ansong , but she often fell short of the skill to actually use it efficiently . she knew it was like miniature computer with amazing capabilities , and she'd learned a lot of the basic functions like texting and bring up the camera , but she still sometimes struggled . glancing bashfully over at another person in the area , she makes the reluctant walk towards them . " hey , uhhh ... sorry , do you think you could find a game among all of these apps and open it for me ? literally any of them will do . "
fridays are for laundry.
right before class, she loads up the clunky old drier in the corner no one ever uses. sure, it takes ages to dry fully, but to yijung, it means laundry's still toasty right as she gets back from class, and without having to wait around to make sure no one moves her clothes!
today, class ends earlier than expected, and even with an unplanned detour for baked goods, yijung finds there's still 15 minutes left before her clothes are ready. she tucks herself into a corner with a buttery custard bun, cross-legged atop an unused drier. the ambient noise of the laundromat's basically asmr, and so, she ends up spaced out and staring at some stranger's closet sloshing around in a washer, until someone's voice breaks her out of her reverie.
"huh?" it takes a moment to process. not because of how out of place the question would usually be, but because yijung's simply not paying attention. the town's so very uncanny that she learns quickly enough she'll give herself a headache if she doesn't just take things at face value and roll with the punches.
though she can't help the slightly incredulous tone that colours her question, eyes flitting over their phone screen. not derision, but genuine confusion. "a game...?" she parrots, brows drawn together. did she miss something? is this a new type of scam? an oddly elaborate anti-phishing scheme brought to her by jeoseung apartments?
way late (no thanks 2 capitalism🫠) but hi! i'm delia and very much excited to be here. i'll have a lil more about yijung under the cut, but please like for plotting! discord is available and preferred, but ims are fine too!
content warning ahead for disordered eating--- please proceed with caution if that's triggering to you, and feel free to ask me for a sparknotes vers. of her bio!
— December 18, 1913 / Franz Kafka diaries
I think I was just born with something dark and ugly inside of me. Always waiting to be found out.
planetarium - adrienne rich/@twoheadedfawnn/ugly, bitter, and true - suzanne rivecca/a burning hill - mitski/a hora da estrela- clarice lispector/ @100493503004422/sharp objects - gillian flynn