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missinghan · 4 years

Text

give it a chance ⤖ lee minho

❖ genre : college au; roommates au; friends to lovers au

❖ word count : 9,6k.

❖ warning : explicit language, slightly suggestive & mentions of alcohol

❖ summary : you convinced yourself to attend a party in order to prevent Lee Minho from doing stupid things; however it’s not so stupid anymore when your roommate said he needed to tell you something important.

❖ a/n : the continuation of what if we is dedicated to @chaninfused, so *clears throat* this is where I hereby declare that she deserves more than what the entire universe can possibly give her; oh hi furat, this is why I’ve been so cryptic all this time. I know this isn’t much but I want to thank you for tolerating me and letting me be mean to you even though we only started talking for a few months; you’re an incredibly great friend and an amazing writer, don’t ever forget that 🖤

one.

It’s been almost a week since Jisung last talked to Minho (albeit texts and FaceTime) and he wakes up to his best friend roaming around his crusty kitchen, struggling to find a bottle of honey. Seungmin’s mom has been constantly sending them thirty packets of rib soup per week. And Minho thinks the sight of Han Jisung slurping on nothing but distorted rice with pork ribs while stressing over his paper for seven days straight is more tragic than his non-existent love life.

“It’s like you’re trying to turn us into gym rats,” Hyunjin snickers lazily, flinging his bangs away from his face. “You even brought us Tupperwares, are you really expecting us not to order tacos impulsively on study nights?” He’s a little dubious about stuff like this because he can feel the actual horror of only eating chicken breast and string beans just by seeing Chan cooking them up.

Seungmin chucks a piece of lettuce towards his direction, “Don’t you have anything else to do other than complaining?” He knows that when Jisung and Hyunjin decide to order food on study nights, they’re gonna do anything but study.

“Uhm, I actually do,” he replies nonchalantly. “I’m going through Minho’s phone.”

Jisung takes a seat next to him by the counter, propping his head onto his hands, “What’s the point? There’s nothing but cat photos and cat memes...and also Y/N as his background.”

“That angle is hideous, by the way,” Hyunjin comments like the true photography geek he is, which is completely ignored by Minho because he’s too cranky to start a fight at ten in the morning. “But it’s kinda cute for you to do that, so I’m gonna turn a blind eye.”

Jisung asks out of the blue, “Who’s going to BamBam’s party this Sunday? Well, besides the other two-thirds of 3RACHA.”

“I have a midterm on Monday, dumbass,” Seungmin mumbles while washing his vegetables at the sink.

“And I’m sleeping over at Lix’s for a project,” Hyunjin informs him lamely, having no intention to attend another single frat party. At least not BamBam’s frat parties—that guy has the weirdest friends; a chick was so drunk that she thought Hyunjin was her boyfriend and almost tried to make out with him on the dance floor.

Jisung secretly hates going to parties without his friends- no, actually, he never goes to parties without people from his social circle because he dreads the whole introduction part that requires formalities and inevitable awkwardness. But it’s not like that with Minho, ten minutes into their very first conversation and he feels like he’s known him for years.

In short, he will die if Minho doesn’t come to the party. Chan can only chat with him for so long until his DJ duty occurs and Changbin’s probably gonna be too busy doing keg stands to care about his antisocial friend.

“Fine, I’ll go,” Minho gives in while chopping up the chicken breasts and this prompts Jisung to clap happily like a seal for the next twenty seconds as he skips over to the fridge to fetch a water bottle. “But we’re gonna need a ride, I’m not taking my motorbike for some crackhead to puke on it. Ask Chan later when you crash at his place.”

Jisung tosses his head back to take a peek at the clock hanging by the bookshelf, and it reads 10:07 AM. He really should be getting for his class at eleven because traffic sucks but he’s not feeling like sitting through two hours of Park ranting about marketing strategies. “Can’t Y/N just drive us? I don’t think she’d let anyone else take you home when you’re not sober,” he ponders, earning a nod of agreement from both of his roommates.

Just when Minho opens his mouth to brush it off, he stops himself to process the information again and holds back a ‘you’re right’ because he hates letting people know that they’re not wrong. He wouldn’t let anyone drive you home when you’re drunk either. “Her car’s with her dad right now,” he tries to sound casual when three pairs of curious eyes are glued onto his back. “I, uh, sorta had it run into a tree last week.”

“You what? How are you still alive?” Hyunjin’s jaw is on the floor and Seungmin accidentally dumps too much vinegar into his salad while Jisung’s choking on the iced cold water, coughing furiously after into the sleeve of his hoodie. Guess Chan’s gonna have to drive them both. After all, he can never say ‘no’ to J.One.

Minho murmurs, “A dude rear-ended me, fucking idiot.” He finishes marinating the chicken breasts and arranges them nicely onto a tray with aluminum foil on top, pushing it into the preheated oven. “And basically she’s never letting me touch her car again,” he sighs while staring into midair dreamily, flashbacking to last Friday when you immediately Ubered yourself all the way from campus to downtown after picking up his call. All he got was thirty seconds of affection; you made sure that he’s not hurt and the rest was just a monstrous tantrum. He ended up sleeping on the couch that night.

“My my, you two are just like an old married couple,” Hyunjin chuckles lightheartedly and shakes his head, scrolling through the series of texts in amusement, “What even is this? I swear your conversation consists of 60% ‘when are you going home?’, 40% ‘your lunch is here’ and 20% terrible cat memes.”

“We’re roommates,” Minho drags the word through gritted teeth, holding back all the murderous thoughts inside his head because he feels like Hyunjin’s just asking for a death wish. It’s too early for this.

Unexpectedly, Seungmin decides he’s in a pretty good mood today since he aced his OChem pop quiz yesterday; meaning, he’s gonna stick his nose into his friend’s business whenever there’s a chance. “Don’t you guys share a bed too?” he pretends to play dumb only to receive a kick in the shin from the older boy.

“We’re also broke,” Minho cranes his neck tiredly, washing the dirty knife under the tap. “Besides, the heater in the living room sucks.”

“You both even smell the same, it’s getting kinda creepy. Please don’t tell me you guys also share showers to have a light water bill,” Jisung makes a gagging noise and Minho thinks he’s already said too much. His grip on the knife tightens for a split second before letting it drop into the sink. He doesn’t trust himself with anything sharp the moment Hyunjin started this unwanted conversation. He also regrets stealing Changbin’s meal prep recipes to feed his trash friends.

Minho questions callously, “We just use the same shampoo and shower gel, what’s the big deal?” His hands go for the box of oatmeal that Felix left here last time in the cabinet full of random food. He doesn’t get why Seungmin would buy so much groceries like he’s in a pandemic knowing damn well that his idiotic roommates can’t cook for shit.

Hyunjin purses his lips, trying to prove his point, “Don’t you think that it’s weird? You don’t do those things with us.”

“Because none of you would fucking house me when I was on the verge of being homeless!”

“And why is she yelling at you through texts anyway? Bro, there’s like ten missed calls here with at least a hundred ‘where are you?’. Why is she terrorizing you this early in the morning?” Minho immediately snaps out of his semi-angry trance, chest heaving up and down.

“Oh shit,” he facepalms himself. “I promised to pick her up at ten from class, what time is it again?”

“You’re fifteen minutes late, my friend,” Jisung supplies unhelpfully. “It’ll take another ten to arrive at campus, without traffic that is. You’re so dead. D-E-A-D.” It feels weird to hear something correct coming out of Jisung’s mouth (twice in a row) and now Minho wishes he could just whack his friend unconscious on the floor with the new set of microphones that Chan gave him last year for Secret Santa.

“Oh, I left your rice sitting at ‘warm’, by the way,” Minho makes a grab for his biker jacket and helmet on the counter before fleeing out of the apartment with his sneakers half-way tucked in. It’s not even been thirty minutes since they’ve seen each other for the past week and Jisung’s already choked on water, not once, but twice because of Lee Minho. Sometimes he wonders if the universe is telling him that he needs new friends.

two.

“Your boyfriend is late.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you hiss at Yeji while staring at Minho’s contact on your phone anxiously. There’s no reason for you to be; worst-case scenario, you can just take the 0325 home and lock him outside for the night so that he’ll have no choice but to endure Chan’s embarrassing sleeping habits. He wouldn’t even notice either way because he’d be too busy swearing in his sleep to be annoyed.

Yeji puts her hair up into a ponytail after stretching her limbs tiredly. She only has one class today and no choice but to stay on campus for her shift at the café before lunch break. Too bad Woojin can’t cover her today because of midterms. “I’m only speaking facts,” she tells you with a yawn and notices the slight pout on your face. “Hey, don’t be sad just because your stupid boyfriend can’t pick you up. I can call Chaeryeong if you need a ride here and there, she wouldn’t mind.”

“I’m not fucking sad!”

“Y/N, you look more depressed than Ryujin when she got a B+ in calc.” That’s irrelevant, Shin Ryujin already has a GPA booster after signing up for Kim’s stats class, one B+ won’t make it any less sparkly.

You only let out a prolonged sigh after checking your phone for the tenth time in the past half an hour. He isn’t picking up any of your calls, your messages probably can’t even reach him and now you’re sitting at M.I.A Cafe with a cup of plain water after standing outside at the front gate for so long like an idiot. An idiot, who’s hopelessly in love with her roommate- wait what?

Listen, you already know that this is going to happen. It’s awfully inevitable and it’s getting harder and harder as the days pass by because summer is almost here. Meaning, Minho’s gonna move out soon, according to the contract.

Are you sad about that?

Yeah, kinda.

The more you think about it the more you regret your decision that day to let him stay with you. Because now you don’t think you’d be able to sleep without him next to you, hogging the blanket all to himself; you get angsty when he’s not home even if he’s just at dance practice; you’re definitely getting way too used to sharing an earphone with him while you both are dreading your assignments silently at the kitchen counter. And now you’re getting nervous just because he’s thirty minutes late. He’s never late, not even to your Monday Movie Night where you both can pig out and binge-watch the Avatar: The Last Airbender series until you’re sick of it.

Maybe you’re relying on him too much. Hypothetically speaking, it’s not his fault for the damage of your car but you’re just making excuses to be with him. You even set him as your emergency contact. It’s kinda tedious to be your roommate, you realize. All of those things aren’t mandatory and he can simply mind his own business without having to feel obligated because of the ‘roommates’ label yet he’d still choose you, over everything else. Perhaps he’s dealing with his own first world problems and forgot to leave you a message this time.

Yeji inquires breezily, wiping a cup dry with a towel, “Also, are you going to BamBam’s party this weekend?”

“For me to carry your ass home after getting shitfaced and sit through another two-hour lecture from Lia? I’ll pass thank you very much.”

She indicates with a quirk of her perfectly dark brow, “What if I tell you that Minho’s gonna be there?” Now she sounds like she’s the one who’s crushing on Lee Minho and not you. Never knew that your friends can be this creepy but the more you learn… “Jisung just told me he found a plus one aka Mister Celebrity to attend that frat party with, you wouldn’t have the heart to let me be the loner right?” she pouts with her nose scrunched and it reminds you too much of Light Fury so you look away, knowing that you wouldn’t stand a goddamn chance if she kept this up.

“How is that my problem?” you merely roll your eyes, slightly annoyed. “And also, isn’t Jisung supposed to have his marketing class now?”

Yeji doesn’t give a damn about what on Earth Han Jisung is doing with his life so she just brushes your question off. “Would you let Minho drink irresponsibly?”

You nod without hesitation, though it feels wrong coming out of your mouth, “He can do whatever he wants...as long as my carpet remains clean after his hangover.”

“Would you let me drink irresponsibly?”

“The same goes for you,” you tell her monotonously. “And I only picked you up because Lia sounded like she was hyperventilating when you attended that one law brat’s birthday party. Na Jaemin, wasn’t it? Hate that guy, by the way.”

Yeji thinks it’s time for you to open up even more and not despise people that much. Having Lee Minho as your roommate is already a huge step-up but it’s not like there have been any modifications to your routine except the fact that another human being is simply enduring your bitchy ass of a loner. She wants you to be really out there, just not messing with shit like doing keg stands because Seo Changbin is a terrible influence. Woojin once had to drop his shift at the sushi place to drive Jeongin home because Changbin left him hanging on the beanbag chair for a game of beer pong. Jeongin has never gone to another single party since.

“You hate literally everyone!” Yeji’s getting impatient, you can feel it.

“Are you telling me it’s my fault that people are shitty?” you bark, massaging the sides of your temple tiredly. You wish you could just drop the entirety of your current presentation to Yeji because your brain cells are already evaporating one by one into thin air.

She barks back, merely sneering, “C’mon! Y/N, it’s not like you ever have plans for the weekend.”

“But I’m having midterms on Monday, I didn’t spend my time on those notes for nothing.”

She shakes her head at you almost in disapproval. Sure, you’re a coward for backing out on this because BamBam’s no stranger to you. That Thai kid has been hanging out with Chan since middle school and he always offers to buy you coffee whenever you happen to drop by as they’re working on a project together. He’s a nice guy, but you don’t know him that well. Something in your gut is telling you that he has weird friends (he totally does). And you’re not about to overdrink only to blurt out an awful confession to Minho while being surrounded by a bunch of crackheads that aren’t in your social sphere.

“I heard kids are vapi-” Yeji stops herself, thinking she should just give up, and get ready for the next batch of sleep-deprived customers coming in at lunch break before Jeongin chucks an avocado at her direction for chit-chatting too much about your gigantic crush on Minho. “Nevermind, it’s not like you’d care anyway, have fun with reviewing I guess.” And with that, she leaves you alone with the cup of plain water to dump the used coffee grounds in the trash.

It takes you at least ten seconds to comprehend what she just said. And you’ve come up with a new yet very last-minute decision: screw midterm because you’re making sure that Lee Minho’s going home in one piece.

Very timely, your phone buzzes on the wooden counter.

[10:38 AM]

lino | hey you still on campus?

three.

The blush scattered across your cheekbones just grows ten shades darker when you see Minho at the front gate leaning against his black Kawasaki; disheveled hair, hands stuffed inside his pockets, occasional puffs of smoke escaping his lips, and unbothered gaze. You’ve never told him this, you’re not telling him this now, and you’re never gonna tell him; but he looks stupidly good in that biker jacket. Again, you don’t get how someone can look this good early in the morning.

“What are you doing here?” you murmur grimly, approaching him from behind. It feels like he’s doing this to your heart on purpose, without even trying. And those girls over there are making you very uncomfortable by eyeing your roommate up and down like he’s an expensive piece of steak with a gold leaf sticking to it.

Minho turns sideways and flashes you a smile; your little heart just did a perfect cartwheel because of that, it can only take so much. “Sorry, I kinda lost track of time, but I still promised to pick you up, didn’t I?” he says casually as your face morphs into a deep frown because you’re basically confused. The only problem is: you don’t even know why you’re confused. There’s this fluttering feeling at the pit of your stomach and now you feel as though someone just gives you a blow to the head when Minho looks straight into your eyes, brows slightly knitted together.

This is not healthy.

“You didn’t answer my calls or my texts.”

Minho thinks you look cuter than usual when you’re silently fuming because you’re not the type to lash out on people. But it’s not so cute anymore when you threatened to flush his AirPods down the toilet that one time when he spilled ketchup on your carpet. He just hopes he doesn’t end up sleeping on the couch tonight like last time.

“I put my phone on silent, as always,” he reminds you of how much of a pain in the ass it is to receive a call-back or a simple reply from him.

You make a face, “Whatever, didn’t I tell you not to make a scene? Have you seen those chicks back there? They’re watching me as if I’m sabotaging their dreams of eating you alive.” Well, you can’t exactly blame your roommate for having girls gushing over him wherever he goes because...it’s his fault for looking like a snack all the time.

Minho quickly detects how you’re not overly fond of his admirers and needless to say, he’s fairly amused. “Then let them,” he puts an arm over your shoulders and pulls you flushed against him, ruffling your hair. Moments later, you’re already hearing scandalous gasps along with hushed whispers going through your eardrums like a never-ending train. It’s really setting your nerves on fire.

“Don’t you think that this is weird?”

“What?” Now it’s Minho who’s confused here.

You slightly push him away and avert your gaze elsewhere to avoid eye contact. “We’re roommates, right?” you mumble, slightly unsure about...all of this.

“Hmm, what about it?”

“Well, I don’t know…” you fiddle with the hem of your jacket and sigh. “What if people keep getting the wrong idea about us?” You sound somewhat regretful as if your decision of taking him in as your roommate was a mistake, as if you feel like it’s better off if he wasn’t in your life at all, as if the past month was completely meaningless. Since when did things become this complicated? It started with a harmless one-month contract and now Minho’s not sure of what he should do next. But that’s not it, is it? Maybe he’s just overthinking too much.

He looks hesitant for a moment there, very not-Lee-Minho of him. “We’re still cool right?” Minho tilts his head to the side, the afternoon sunlight slips through fluffs of white clouds and brings the constellations in his warm brown eyes to life. Though he looks like a scolded child, you can’t help but want to put this moment into a frame and simply cherish it for the rest of your life.

“Beats me,” you breathe out, silently hating yourself for not being able to get angry at him. It’s harder than you thought, really, and it doesn’t help when his eyes keep doing that thing to your poor little heart. “Make me pasta and we’re good,” you end up chuckling when Minho’s expression turns a solid three hundred and sixty at the offer.

“That’s not a very smart move for a business major, your loss,” he replies with a goofy smile, tossing the helmet that he got you yesterday in your direction. And if you pay attention enough, you can almost see Minho exhaling out of relief. But you’re too busy staring at the ground to douse yourself in your own giddiness to notice. “Oh crap, I think I left my wallet at Hyunjin’s,” he tells you after swinging a leg over on his shiny vehicle.

You narrow your eyes at him, “You don’t need your wallet to make me pasta now do you?”

“By the way, are you going to BamBam’s party?”

“Only if you’re going,” you scratch the bridge of your nose with your ring finger, a little embarrassed to admit that he’s the only reason why you’re ditching midterms.

Minho’s hearty laugh fills your eardrums, shit-eating grin and all. “If it makes you feel better, Chan’s driving us,” he voices without looking at you, but your chest still swells either way.

You fucking hate how you have the softest spot for him.

four.

You’re already regretting this although you’ve only been sitting in Chan’s back seats for less than twenty minutes. Crankiness takes over your body as a result of reviewing for the whole afternoon, your eyelids are getting droopy, and your head seems to be all too big for your neck at this rate. More reasons for you to not drink tonight.

“Ugh, why am I even here?” you groan, and Jisung scrunches his nose, slightly alarmed because you’re not usually this loud unless you’re high on caffeine.

Minho tells you in the most lighthearted way possible, “Because you love me.”

You wish you could just put his head through a wall because everything and anything coming out of his mouth are never healthy for your mind, or heart. “Uhm, no I don’t.”

“But you did confess your love to me,” he singsongs as if he just hit a jackpot with his lottery ticket, angling his head to toss you a wink. “I have receipts, ma’am. They’re right here, in my heart.” Minho’s never seen you so giddy before so he recorded everything, but he’s not planning on putting himself on a chopping block by telling you that.

You shove his arm and purse your lips, flaming cheeks but the car’s too dark for him to see it. “I was sick, asshole, I talk shit more when I have a fever than when I’m drunk,” you defend yourself helplessly, not enjoying the fact that he had to bring it up when you’re in a confined space with Seo Changbin and Han Jisung.

“Minho doesn’t like it when Y/N raises her voice.” Great, now he’s talking in third person.

“What are you even? Four?”

He winks at you, “Baby me, baby.”

“Oh my god shut the fuck up and get away from me!”

“You’ll never get rid of me, baby.” Eventually, you give up because you’re too mentally exhausted and there’s still a long night ahead of you. You’re not wasting your energy in pointless arguments with him because you both yell at each other on a daily basis anyway.

“Maybe he’ll zip it if you tell him that you love him,” Jisung suggests innocently with a not-so-innocent look on his face. He’s already acting dumb when he’s this fucking sober so you’re not looking forward to two hours later when vodka’s practically replaced his own blood.

“I’d rather chew off my own foot.” Changbin snorts involuntarily at your stiff remark, Chan mutters a small ‘ouch’ while Jisung’s too busy laughing his ass off. And a demeaning silence descends after that.

Minho’s right next to you, oddly unresponsive to the situation, his head leaning against your shoulder as he gazes dejectedly out the window. You don’t see how stormy his eyes are. He also misses his motorcycle tremendously because Chan’s the safest (slowest) driver to ever exist. No joke, if he keeps going at the pace of thirty miles per hour then you should just skip the party and watch a movie while getting drunk at his place altogether.

“Can you go any fucking slower?”

“Excuse me?” Chan laughs in disbelief, he’s a little offended because he personally thinks he’s a good driver, maybe a little bit too obedient when it comes to the law. Hey, at least you know you’re in good hands. “I’m not trying to get us all killed before BamBam could poison one of you guys.”

Jisung purses his lips as he’s reminded of the last party where he ran into that Thai dude. He gave him a plastic cup, telling him that it’s merely a harmless fruity vodka only for Jisung to get kicked out by an Uber driver after throwing up in the back seats. Turns out, the lemons and oranges in the cocktail were relatively spoilt.

“I’m gonna die from boredom before we could even get into a car accident,” Minho informs him unconstructively, staring at some random notifications from Instagram of people commenting on his cats’ photos, text messages from his mom and swipes them all away. Mostly to chuckle to himself like a moron because of his lock screen. Yes, your stupid face is still on there after three weeks and you don’t know if you should be crying or laughing.

Chan narrows his eyes at the rear-view mirror, “It seems like you’re entertaining yourself just fine by looking at Y/N’s face.”

“This photo does make me laugh because it’s priceless,” the younger boy states without turning his head to look at you. “But still, bored.”

The car grows silent again soon after because Chan’s already been stressed out enough from traffic since clearly, people can’t drive to save their own lives. But it’s not like your friends can keep their mouths shut for the rest of the trip anyway.

“Boreddd,” Minho voices randomly while a J.One’s song is blasting through the speaker. It’s a terribly soft song and it doesn’t help when Minho feels like he can downright sleep through an earthquake, potentially falling into an enormous crack on the Earth’s surface and still being able to nap like there’s no tomorrow. He’s just glad that Jisung grew out of ‘Wow’ and embraces his awkward self through his own music. It’s..sentimental but what’s a J.One song without that element?

Changbin looks up from his phone for half a second, wholly uninterested. “Then shut up and sleep,” he says expressionlessly. Very timely, his most recent track comes up next on the playlist and he starts rapping along with it. Minho thinks he can really use a good eye shut as SpearB is performing live right behind him because Changbin can only stay sober like this for so long until he gets his hands on one of BamBam’s sketchy-looking concoctions.

You’re starting to get bored too at this rate because usually, during times like this when the car is filled with nothing but music and everyone (except for the driver) feels like they’re falling into a food coma, a certain idiot will—

“Y/N, don’t you have a midterm on Monday?” Ah, there it is.

Jisung bends himself forward and drapes an arm over the leather seat, scrunching his nose at the sight of Minho sleeping soundly against your shoulder. He’s still bitter about the fact that Minho refuses to drive anyone other than you with his motorcycle for some reason. Exclusive things are always so annoying.

You exhale deeply because Jisung reminds you of that one kid who always asks questions that stress the hell out of the teachers back in high school. Would it kill for him to just shut up once in a while?

“I do, and I haven’t got a wink of sleep since yesterday afternoon,” you tell him rather lazily, shifting when Minho snuggles himself closer to you, his hair tickling your jawline. You pray he doesn’t know how fast your heart is beating. “A little alcohol might spare me a night of crying myself to sleep.”

Jisung lets his bottom lip stuck out like he’s a fucking five-year-old not allowed to get his favorite ice-cream flavor. “Aww, you should have asked Minho for cuddles then, pretty sure he’d be more than happy to—,” he remarks sarcastically and you wish you could just throw him in the middle of an intersection. He’s lucky because Minho’s a heavy sleeper or he would have been knocked senseless or something. The last thing Chan needs is being forced to pull over for having wild animals wrestle the shit out of each other in his vehicle.

“Hey, fuck off,” you snarl at him, knowing you should have chosen the passenger seat instead. That way, you wouldn’t be fuming inside because you can’t physically strangle Han Jisung to his imminent death. He has already tattooed that image into the back of your brain and you swear you’ve never heard a creepier chuckle from your friend.

Jisung notices the coral tint on your cheeks and sneers, leaning back against his seat. “Yeah right, as if you’re actually gonna get drunk,” he says snarkily. “You’re just gonna be there to prevent Lee Minho from making bad decisions.”

“I decided to come because Yeji wanted me-“

“Yeji who? In what world will you have time for her when you’re too busy staring at Minho like a total creep? Wanna bet ten bucks?”

That’s bullshit because Lee Minho is already your entire world.

Chan butts in, “Make that fifty.”

Changbin raises his hand, “I’d bet my Tesla.” Your friends really spelled out ‘a bunch of fucking clowns’ in bold, gigantic capital letters and you’re this close to facepalm yourself against Chan’s steering wheel. This is why you don’t go to parties with them that often because you’re stuck with cleanup duties with Seungmin until these crackheads grow out of their amateur drinking habits.

“You’re just jealous because he would rather call you an Uber than give you a lift himself,” you say pointedly and Jisung lets out the loudest, most scandalous gasp. So dramatic.

“You,” he jabs a finger at you, eyes wide in accusation. “Need a nap.”

You laugh dryly, ignoring the urge to snap a picture of his flabbergasted expression and turn it into a new meme for your group chat. “You don’t say, Han, you don’t say.”

And Changbin rolls his eyes over the moon, vividly picturing where this disastrous conversation is gonna go. Basically, he wants you to get shitfaced as soon as you step foot into BamBam’s house so he’ll have a sappy, drunk confession video to toss on Twitter tonight because Woojin just posted a picture of him with a drumstick dipped inside a glass of what looks like a watered-down Margarita. He’s highly concerned since there hasn’t been anything juicy on his feed other than his friends creeping people out with their questionable content.

“If you two don’t end up getting drunk and kiss, I’m gonna be pissed,” Changbin says casually as if it’s just an afterthought. This prompts you to chuck your phone in his direction—you can care less about your screen protector at this point if it means stopping him from taunting you further.

He asserts like a snake, “Hey, remember that time where you tripped over Kkami and totally crushed Minho under your weight?”

“I blame gravity for that.”

“But Albert Einstein said you can’t blame gravity for falling in love.”

“Who cares about Albert Einstein?!” you whisper-shout harshly, cautiously eyeing Minho’s sleeping figure. He scrunches his nose and murmurs something that you can’t quite hear before turning over to face you completely. His arms unexpectedly slip underneath yours like second nature. He furrows his eyebrows occasionally, other times he’d be grinning like an idiot and his lips are slightly agape, full eyelashes framing his eyes beautifully. Sometimes you wonder how weird his dreams are whenever you caught him talking (and cursing) in his slumber.

Changbin wants to pry aloud when you start staring at Minho for too long; he might as well be tossed on the freeway at this point before exasperation squeezes the little amount of oxygen left out of his chest. This is worse than Hyunjin’s terrible rom coms. He props his head onto his hand in boredom as Chan pulls over and turns off the engine. “Hey we’re here, why not wake your prince up with a kiss—”

“I’m gonna kick your ass,” you threaten.

Now there are two distasteful tattoos at the back of your head. And you will not hesitate for a heartbeat sacrificing the entirety of your bank account to get them removed. To get Lee Minho removed from your mind.

If only it were that easy.

“Mhmm,” the figure beside you lets out a low grunt and hugs your arm closer instinctively. His warmth seeps through the fabric of your denim jacket and sets your heart on fire. You’re ready to flick his forehead any second now to interrupt his slumber but before you could even do anything, Seo Changbin aggressively opens the door and you widen your eyes in horror. Where the fuck did he get a megaphone? And what for?

“Bitch wake up! Those drinks aren’t gonna finish themselves!”

It’d be a miracle if you ended up finding him alive by dawn.

five.

“Y/N you ass, give it back!

“No, we’ve only been here for three hours and this is your fifth cup already,” you tell her in a mildly serious tone before dumping her cup of whatever the fuck of a yellow substance that Ryujin gave her ten minutes ago into the sink.

Yeji plops herself onto the sofa in the living room after you drag her out of the kitchen where people are making out on the marble counter. Glad to see nothing’s changed...idiots. “God, you’re such a party pooper, I shouldn’t have told you to come,” she complains in between small hiccups, alcohol tinting her cheeks beet red.

“I’m here to save your ass and this is how you’re repaying me?” Your question didn’t come out as coherent and threatening as you imagined and every single cell inside your body is shaking for no specific reason.

Your friend narrows her eyes down into a mere glare like a detective in those crimes shows that you spend way too much time on and you’re debating whether you should be laughing or pissing yourself. She fucking knows that you’re lying. She fucking knows the sole reason for you to be here. “Give me a break, it’s not like you’re doing anything besides staring at your boyfriend from afar,” Yeji scoffs dejectedly.

“God forbids ‘Lee Minho’ and ‘my boyfriend’ go in the same sentence,” you grit, subconsciously averting your gaze around the living room to spot your roommate. All he’s been doing is being held back by Chan when he tried to murder Changbin once, catching up with his old friends from high school and hanging out with some of his classmates, ranting about how much he dreads Kim’s eight AM, gushing with Hyunjin over some senior’s choreography set. By the looks of it, Jisung must have handed him at least seven of those red party cups from the bar—thanks to BamBam who keeps restocking them every hour.

Yeji chuckles creepily when the alcohol finally hits her hard, you think you just got chills by the way that she’s leaning closer. “Of course not,” she hiccups into your ear, words slurred, “Lee Minho’s not my boyfriend, he’s your boyfriend.” You look at her in the eye, and mentally regret your life choices. How insufferable.

“I mean, seriously,” she slams her body back onto the couch and groans; you can’t tell if it’s out of frustration or the cushion is too soft for her back. “It’s like you’re living the life of the main protagonist in a Harry Styles fanfiction! Do you know how many girls and boys would kill to live in the same apartment as that?” Her index finger is pointed directly at the person you’ve been watching and avoiding all night, across the room with a dart in his hand as he stands in front of the dartboard.

“Were you aiming for the board or were you plotting to kill me? Because I can’t tell! I-can’t-fucking-tell!” Changbin shouts over the music and you momentarily cringe at the crack in his voice; it’s never a college party without one of your friends riling each other up over the dumbest things. And also, who thinks it’s a good idea to lend an unstable Lee Minho a sharp object of any kind?

You look away as heat flares through your nostrils when Minho accidentally glances at you after laughing at some corny joke that Chan made. He’s more than mildly hammered right now, you suppose, because, well, Chan can only make people laugh when they’re exceptionally drunk.

A stupid question then slips out of your lips. “With what?” It sounds like you only have one brain cell and are perpetually dumb. It makes you feel even dumber when there’s nothing but a can of Coke inside your body.

“A hottie who dances, cooks, has a good sense of humor, lowkey a genius, highkey a tsundere, shares a name with a famous actor. Far more handsome than the actor himself, if I dare.” Yeji has no hesitation whatsoever naming every reason as to why people on campus shamelessly throw themselves at your roommate on a daily basis. And now your head grows ten times fuzzier, floating mundanely in the clouds above. Basically, you feel like you’re drunk—except your confidence isn’t sky high enough to do something stupid—which makes no absolute sense.

The silver-haired girl next to you puts an arm around your neck and giggles, you’re highly perturbed that her vocal cords are gonna give in tomorrow when she convinces you through FaceTime that you should be extra careful with your notes since she won’t be showing up to class. “Oh! And he has three cats, right? Cat people are said to be more intuitive and thoughtful, that’s a bonus,” Yeji asserts and your jaw is on the floor at this rate. She doesn’t even spare him a second glance during lunch break and she already knows this much?

No wonder Minho never talked about his cats with Felix and Seungmin again.

“I bet you read that off a Buzzfeed article.”

“Doesn’t necessarily mean it’s wrong!”

You inhale and exhale deeply, linking your fingers together, “Yeah, but that’s all people will ever see.”

“Well, what else can they like about him?”

“I don’t know,” you say bluntly, but the rouge on your cheeks is anything but ‘blunt’. “They don’t see how stuck-up he is, how he loves hogging the blanket all to himself, how he secretly stocks up a stash of trashy snacks. They don’t see the way his eyes sparkle when he looks into their eyes during a conversation because he’s actually a very attentive listener.”

Yeji pats your back without turning her head, slightly amused, “I think you meant how he looks into your eyes during a conversation.”

Your eyes scan the room one more time to find Minho hugging his stomach from laughing too much, there are actual tears in his eyes because Changbin just lost a bet and apparently he has to belly flop himself into the pool as a punishment. You haven’t seen him this happy in a while, even when he’s potentially dying from a really bad stomachache but it still puts your heart at ease knowing he’s having fun tonight.

Needless to say, he always knocks the breath right out of your lungs without much effort. Even when he’s ditched the leather jacket and ripped jeans, you still think no one looks better than him in a large t-shirt and sweatpants.

“But I don’t get it,” Yeji looks over at you this time, real carefully because your tone just grows firmer and more serious. “How can he just stand there, laugh...and look so beautiful?”

“I told you—”

“Yeah that’s exactly what I need to hear right now, Yeji,” you facepalm almost immediately, highly disappointed in yourself.

Jisung’s getting his ten dollars on Monday when you surprise him with two slices of cheesecake from his favorite dessert place. Changbin can keep his Tesla and Chan...Chan isn’t getting anything.

You push yourself off the blue velvet couch and groan, you’re getting sore quickly because the cushions are far too soft. “Let me get some fresh air, I feel like I’m gonna to lose my mind,” you tell your friend but you doubt that she caught it since the music is all too loud for students to communicate properly. Maybe that’s one of the reasons why fistfights during parties are a thing.

“Uhm, wait,” Yeji tugs onto your sleeve and jerks her head towards the direction of Minho. “I’m sorry but what the hell does your boyfriend want now?”

“Huh where—“

Like..three feet away. Or a whole lot closer.

“Why didn’t you answer my texts?” And you find Minho standing in front of you with his arms crossed stubbornly, eyebrows knitted together and tinted pink cheeks. He looks a little pissed off, and you don’t think you’re both on the same page here.

When you give him a ‘what do you mean’ look, your roommate feels the need to unlock his phone and jab his index finger against his poor crusty screen as he shows you at least fifty messages that he’s been spamming in the last half an hour. This reminds you of the yellow Post-It note that Minho violently smacked onto your fridge the very night when he first moved in.

‘I hereby fucking declare that if we did end up going to the same party (doubt btw), we would keep our phones with us 25/8 so one can save the other’s ass from stupid decisions— lee minho’ he wrote. Minho knows all too well the only ass that needs to be saved is his. And you’ve thought about taking the note down several times but you don’t think you’d have the heart to.

“Oh,” your head draws a blank canvas and you look for your phone in your pocket. But then, “I left my phone in Chan’s car.”

Minho rolls his eyes at you and decides that he’s too impatient to wait for Chan to sober up and remember where he left his keys. “Whatever,” he manages to crack a small smile, one that shines through the dimmed LED light on the ceiling and makes your heart stuck in your throat. “Let’s get out of here, I have something to tell you.”

“Hey hey hey,” Yeji tries to get up from the couch but her limbs are too wobbly. “You can’t just tap out all of a sudden and steal her from me like that. Don’t even think for a minute you second rate—”

“Yeah, no, she’s mine.”

You’re downright baffled. But you’re not sure if it’s because of what he said ten seconds ago and your heart is going haywire, your brain cells are giving in on you or it’s because he’s tugging you by the wrist and piloting you through the impending chaos of sloppy college students.

You’re not sure if you want to know. You’re not sure if you’re ready.

six.

Fall arrives sooner than you thought and it almost makes you miss summer. Though you didn’t really have anything exciting besides an internship that refrained you from living on YouTube for too long.

The evening is oddly cold, but you’ve never had a problem with the tips of your fingers growing chilly. It’s different tonight—it’s the kind of coldness that slips through your flesh and into your bones, coming in contact with the thumping force of your heart, causing it to shiver. There’s nothing to do but keep your gaze straight forward, your feet moving on their own with the one and only goal of heading home. Clouds with the murky color of wet ashes pass by, and the ground as its dank reflection—a reminder of how humanity is ruining the planet.

The streets are so quiet and tranquil; you’re afraid that Minho might be able to hear your heartbeat. Now you’re pointing a finger at society in accusation because it’s the weekend yet no elder couples are taking their night strolls, no middle-aged ladies in fluffy jackets are walking their spoiled teacups dogs and no wasted college students are roaming the streets with ‘trouble’ spelled out on their forehead. Really, you’d rather stare at people in a creepy way and zone out than constantly thinking about Lee Minho when he’s right beside you.

This is terribly suffocating and you don’t think if you can keep this up in the next thirty minutes until both of you get home and melt into the comfort of your bed.

“Sober up, Mister Celebrity, that’s too much fun for tonight.” Minho winces slightly when you press a can of cold green tea against his cheeks as he’s about to doze off on the wooden bench next to the vending machine. While he’s taking a swig, you feel a silent obligation to take a seat but your eyes are determinedly fixed on the curb.

The bench suddenly feels far too big and the night breeze is far too cold for Minho’s liking, so he shifts his body closer, fingers brushing over yours and sending electricity down your spine. “What do you mean?” he scoffs, finding it hard to not look at you so his gaze is temporarily glued onto the can of green tea in his palms. “Tonight was nothing compared to Jisung’s birthday.” He can still feel the remaining warmth from your hands, it makes him wonder how it’d feel to actually hold them.

“Ugh, god,” you shake your head in disbelief, internally cringing. “Don’t even remind me.”

You still don’t know what Hyunjin fed him that day to the point he couldn’t remember what happened. All hell broke loose Felix posted a video of him pretending to be a stupid ostrich and trying to do a mating dance towards Jisung on Twitter. No one dares to talk about that scarred video since. Now that he’s reminded you of it, you wish you didn’t own brain cells in the first place. This is why the internet is scary.

“What is it that you wanted to tell me anyway?”

Minho stops for a second at your question and places his beverage down on the bench. He stares distantly at the space ahead as if he’s fighting with himself inside his own head, seriously contemplating something. It’s come to your attention that this isn’t very like his usual self. Minho never hesitates for a second when he has something in mind. Even when he knows that you might rip his head off.

He exhales deeply, turns his head, and makes direct eye contact with you for what seems like an eternity. His eyes are as wide open and honest as a child’s, they possess something so much more the longer you stare at them. A warmth, safety. Your heart is gonna combust if he doesn’t get this over with soon.

Then, “I think I forgot to put yeast in the batter.” Wait what?

“Minho!” you punch his arm, earning a low grunt from the blond-haired boy. “Don’t fucking scare me like that!” He’s looking at you as though your eyes are turning red with rage and smoke is coming out of your ears, scared for his own life but truthfully, you’re just relieved. Surprisingly.

“Wait, so you’re not mad?” he asks you with a wide-eyed expression, trying way too hard to keep a straight face. “Aren’t we supposed to bring homemade bread for the get together at the nursing home tomorrow?”

“Old people still enjoy Bingo for some reason, they can have that instead of bread.” His mouth forms a small ‘o’ as he scoots closer to you and you can tell that he reeks off alcohol, which is making you a little dizzy. When your gaze falls elsewhere but Lee Minho, you attempt to appear casual, “But if you wanna bake so badly, I can still pull an all-nighter and start over with you.” That was doable, but you could have done better—should have sounded like you didn’t really care.

Minho flings his bangs away from his face and tosses his head back, chuckling breathlessly. “Don’t you have a midterm to stress over instead of me? I don’t want you to pick out every single strand of hair on your head after baking with me.” He finally said something nice once in a while, you sorta appreciate it. “It’d be embarrassing when my parents FaceTime me and see you as bald as my great grandfather.” Nevermind, he’s still the same old jerk.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, you’ll be moving out in two weeks, either way, right?” Your tone sounds sad and grim all of a sudden; it really dampens the atmosphere because Minho is now looking at you with concern laced in his brown eyes. “Look, I get that it’s bothersome to be my roommate so there’s no need to feel bad. I’ll be fine going back to my old life where my feet don’t get cold in the middle of the night because no one would be there to hog the blanket anymore.”

Minho feels the need to clear things up here. “I never said anything about moving out,” he grabs you by the shoulders and hopes you could just look at him when he’s being serious for once. “Y/N, who even said anything about moving out? Was it the landlord?”

“No,“ you say, still not willing to face him directly. You’re such a coward.

“If so, why would I move out? Did I do something wrong? Did I piss you off or something?”

You’re trying so hard not to snap at this point. “No!”

“Then why can’t you just fucking look at me?!”

“You’re still drunk, let me buy you another—“

Minho shakes you forcefully, hoping to knock some common sense into that brain of yours. “For fuck’s sake, I’m not drunk!” he cries helplessly, not caring about the fact that he’s waking up every cat possible in the neighborhood. “Just- just look at me, will you?”

You stubbornly keep your eyes anywhere but him. “Why would I look at your stupid face?”

“Don’t bullshit me, Y/N. You’re not usually like this.”

Every single cell inside your body quivers simultaneously when he says so—good god, no, he’s testing you. Minho knows something’s off. Now to think about it again, you’d rather let him dirty your carpet than being put on trial like this.

“You wanna know why I’m acting like this? It’s because of you! You’re making me nervous! It’s your fault for making me feel this way!”

“What?” he blurts, eyes blinking numerous times in disbelief. “What did I ever do to you?”

“God, Minho, you can’t possibly be this dense. Tell me, that you’ve never, not even once, seen me turning beet red when you simply look at me in the eye. Or when you’re just sitting there, laughing your ass off about something stupid. It makes my heart flutter, okay? You make my heart flutter. Do you know how much of an effect you can have on me? You don’t go around juggling with others’ feelings like that,” your voice grows smaller and smaller towards the end until there’s nothing but an oddly comfortable silene floating midair. A sense of relief washes over you; you unknowingly exhale.

Minho stares at you in awe for a moment there, until he also speaks up for himself. “Maybe you should take your own advice,” he almost snickers, and this causes you to peel your gaze away from a random bush to gawk at his response. “You’re telling me to not go around juggling with others’ feelings? If anything, you’re the one who keeps messing with my heart. What am I supposed to do? Not get drunk so that I won’t be able to get away for doing dumb things?”

“What dumb things?”

“I don’t know, kiss you?”

“Fuck, you can’t get away with it this time now, can you?”

You’re already regretting this and there’s no turning back. Because when Minho subconsciously runs his tongue over his bottom lips, you’re already fighting the rouge spreading on your cheekbones. He shortens the distance between your heads until your lips are practically a breath away from his. Impatient, you grab a fistful of his shirt to smash your lips against his. Minho stays frozen for a nanosecond, taken aback by your boldness before pulling you closer by the waist. You’re hesitant at first, but he guides you through it, telling you that it’s okay by embracing you more tightly. Dear god, Minho’s kissing you and the world just falls away. It’s slow, comforting in ways that words can never be. He slackens his jaw to deepen the kiss, smiling into it when giddiness bubbles up inside his stomach.

The world still feels like it’s spinning when he parts away, an alcoholic taste mixed with the green tea ghosts your lips, and your face grows ten times hotter. Even in this cracked darkness, Minho sees you blush hard and is fully aware that his cheeks are mirroring yours—he doesn’t even bother to convince himself that it’s from the alcohol, because it isn’t.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Minho questions though his breath is still a bit shaky from the kiss. He really didn’t lie when he said that he could never stop bothering you.

You can’t help but smile at him brightly; this causes his heartbeat to spike inside his chest. “Well, do I have to?” He shakes his head and stares down at your hands until he musters up every strand of courage left to finally intertwine them with his own. Fits like a glove.

“Come on, let’s go home,” he tells you softly, eyes crinkling into a pretty crescent moon shape. But you stop him right there when he attempts to stand up and wordlessly lean your forehead against his. Minho understands that you simply need a moment so you both hover right there, simply melting into each other’s touch. But what you say next just makes the ignited passion inside his heart flare-up. He’s at a loss for words, utterly speechless.

“I am home.”

“Welcome home then, Y/N,” Minho whispers.

Everything feels like a dream that you’d never want to wake up from. His hands are clasped on either side of your face, resting just below the lobes of your ears. His thumbs gently caress your cheeks so that you won’t drift away, your breaths mingling. Never before has your own name made your heart flutter. But you guess it’s only because Minho said it. You do know that it’s not an afterthought, nor out of impulse. It’s a promise, for whatever’s coming your way on this path, he’s never gonna leave you behind. And the moment he feels that thing beating inside his chest is in sync with yours, he slowly leans in again.

Albert Einstein once said you can’t blame gravity for falling in love. And you have every right to argue with him in the afterlife because you’ve confirmed that Minho is your gravity. Gravity keeps you grounded, always get a hold of you so that you won’t ever have to wander off too far away. It’s there for you but it doesn’t have to act like it cares. Minho’s kinda like that too—he picked you up every time you said you’re good walking home, he only stocked up the stash of candies to secretly feed your midnight cravings. They only differ so much where his heartbeat for you is loud, undaunted and he loves you fearlessly; nothing shall meddle with his feelings for you as long as the way your eyes light up when they meet his doesn’t change.

Before you met Minho, you didn’t know that it was possible to just look at someone and smile for no reason. The way his lips curl up when he smiles, his sarcastic remarks, his kindhearted nature though he’s awfully good at hiding it. That’s what people do when they’re in love, they say—to fawn over the littlest things but they’re what makes you fall so hard for him. But as time passes by, you’ve learned that it’s actually quite nice to be in love with someone. Because then, you get to spend your time and effort on their happiness as well, not just your own. In exchange, that person is capable of bringing colors to your dull world, tearing down your walls, and showing you just how beautiful life can be. Surely, Minho might not stay by your side forever in this crazy game of Monopoly but you’d risk it all for him even if the sky comes crashing and the universe turns upside down.

After all, you can’t love alone.

#stayshub #skzwritersclub #stray kids lee know #stray kids scenarios #lee know imagines #stray kids imagines #lee know scenarios #stray kids minho #minho roommate au #minho college au #lino fic #lee minho #lee know #college au #roommate au

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p1harmonyofficial · 3 years

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[📰] Get to Know the Members of K-Pop Group P1Harmony With These 10 Fun Facts! (Exclusive)

P1Harmony is a rising global K-Pop troupe, but we wanted Just Jared readers to get an exclusive chance to know them a little better!

The talented six-member boy group first arrived on the scene back in October of 2020, embarking on their international music career with the release of their first mini album DISHARMONY: STAND OUT and feature film, P1H: A New World Begins, which positioned the group as a force to be reckoned with in the music scene.

Amid the pandemic, the group continued to make new music for their fans with the release of their second mini album, DISHARMONY: BREAK OUT, including their slamming, hip-hop infused title track “Scared,”” along with an accompanying music video full of street-style dancing and intense visual effects.

Watch “Scared” and check out these 10 Fun Facts about P1Harmony inside!

INTAK

1. I have more eyelashes on my right eye than my left. Right after my debut, I didn’t really know how to remove eye makeup, so for a while, I used to just rub my eyes really hard with soap and now, I have more eyelashes on my right eye than my left. 2. I used to love oysters, but now I cannot eat it. I was an oyster fanatic, until very recently. I ordered raw oysters after watching a TV show at night with JONGSEOB, and after one bite, I couldn’t eat it anymore. The taste of the “sea” was so pungent. Now, I’m too traumatized! 3. I saved a man’s life. I went chestnut picking with my dad, and found a guy hanging on a cliff and struggling to get back up. We immediately helped him get up. He was really grateful and I remember feeling so proud to have saved someone’s life! 4. I have a small horizontal scar on the right side of my face, and I kind of like it. I got this scar when I was about four or five, and although it’s not that visible now, sometimes I like it because it makes me feel like a charismatic, bad guy! 5. I love dogs. I love dogs, so I have been watching a lot of dog-related videos but I’m terribly allergic. I can’t stop myself from petting them when I see them on the street, and always regret it afterwards because I turn all puffy and itchy! 6. I fantasize a lot about time travel. I even tried and feel like it can really happen one day! I lie down in my bed, put my blanket over my entire body and focus really hard on the idea, but this brings me nowhere but to the future. [Laughs] 7. I have a gold tooth. 8. I have a brown spot (mole) on my middle finger. 9. I love my Crayon Shin-chan character earphones. I get happy just looking at it. 10. I go to the convenient store so much that there isn’t anything I have not tried!

THEO

1. My right shoulder is more developed than my left. I used to play volleyball and would strike with my right arm, so my right shoulder is more developed than my left. 2. I have a red mole. I recently got a red mole on the side of my right neck, but I have no idea where it came from and why but it’s not going away! 3. I can’t burp, literally. I don’t know how to burp and have never burped in my life 4. I only drink carbonated drinks. I rarely drink anything that is NOT carbonated. 5. I don’t like lettuce and tomatoes in my burgers. 6. I had a burst appendix and didn’t know it for a while. I was hospitalized for two months, because they couldn’t find my appendix. Apparently, my organs are shaped and structured differently. 7. I love slippers. Unless I am going to an official engagement or doing promos, I am always in slippers, (even during winter)! 8. I have never cried in front of people until I turned 20. I was watching a very emotional episode of “Animal Farm,” and got caught crying in front of KEEHO, SOUL and JIUNG. Since then, I think I’ve gotten more emotional. I once cried watching JONGSEOB cry, too. 9. I can’t stay still when I’m on the phone. I have to walk around or do something when I’m on the phone. 10. I love singing songs to my friends over the phone.

JIUNG

1. I love Tonkatsu (pork cutlet). I have been addicted to tonkatsu these days and have been eating it almost every day for the last few months. 2. I have the same birthday as my younger brother. My younger brother and I share the same birthday, which is Oct. 7. We were also born around the same time. 3. My younger brother and I have a similar birth time as well. I think he was born like 8 minutes before me or after! 4. I love raw garlic and don’t like kimchi. 5. I only drink flat coca-cola. I purposely decarbonate my coke by shaking it and letting the air out multiple times until the bottle doesn’t expand anymore and the coke is completely flat. 6. I still fit into my hats from my adolescent years. My head is so small that I still fit into all my hats from elementary school. 7. I think too much. I make daily memos and write down almost everything to organize my thoughts. 8. I like to dance and sing when the streets are empty. When no one is around and I’m in a good mood. I love walking down the empty street thinking I’m shooting a music video. I sing, dance and act. Last time, I bumped into someone and I ran away in full embarrassment! [Laughs]. 9. I have a scar on my eye. 10. I may look picky, but I’m not a picky eater! I love trying a lot of different cuisines.

KEEHO

1. I love collecting sunglasses and glasses although my eyesight is near perfect. I love wearing glasses even though I don’t need them to see. I also have been collecting a lot of sunglasses lately. 2. I talk during my sleep, apparently! According to my members, I sleep-talk a lot (almost every night), but I don’t remember any of it and I never have dreams. 3. I have the same birthday as my dad! 4. I can eat salads all day. I love salads! I love eating vegetables, especially celery and carrots, and prefer dressings like ranch and oriental. 5. I am not good at smiling. I have a hard time smiling so I’m still in the process of learning how to smile naturally! I have to make sounds out loud to smile [during photo shoots]. 6. I used to hate wearing sweatpants. I don’t know why but I hated sweatpants and never wore them when I was younger― even if I had to wear something more uncomfortable like slacks or jeans.. Now, I wear them all the time! 7. I rarely cry alone or in front of people. The only person who has seen me cry is INTAK. I was going through something heavy and was alone at a park by myself when INTAK came to pick me up. He started crying as soon as he saw me, and that made me cry. 8. I used to pull all my loose baby teeth. I hated having something loose in my mouth, so instead of waiting to go to the dentist, I used to pull them out on my own. 9. I have a light (barely noticeable) mole on my big toe. 10. I have curly hair, so unless I blow dry it, it goes wild.

SOUL

1. I used to collect beetles. I think I had up to 30 beetles in one big box. 2. I only wear Air Jordans. I only wear Jordans and my favorite design is the Air Jordan 1s. 3. I love dolls! I love buying and collecting dolls. I like anything that is cute and fuzzy. 4. I don’t like taking pictures of humans except KEEHO. I only take pictures of nature, architecture or like a beautiful scenery. The only time I would take a picture of a human is of KEEHO. 5. Me and my younger sister found an important historical stone artifact. We were just digging stuff up and found a stone artifact. We later learned it was a historically valuable artifact, so we donated it to a museum. 6. I wear my pants backwards. 7. I don’t like electric fans. I don’t like when wind blows in my face 8. I once had the same dream three times in a row. I had the same dream three times in a row, but every ending changed depending on the choices I made [in my dream]. 9. A bird pooped on my head while I was on my way to school. Without having much reaction, I just walked to school and waited until I had to go to the bathroom to wash. 10. I don’t get scared or surprised easily. I used to get yelled at for bowing down and saying hi to all the actors playing zombies, monsters or ghosts at haunted houses in theme parks.

JONGSEOB

1. I like books that are thick and with small letters for no particular reason. I tend to buy books that are thick, whatever the genre is. I think it’s because I’m a fast reader. 2. I never had cavities! I love eating sweets like jellies and candies. I can go through a whole pack in one sitting, but I’ve never had cavities! 3. I have something called a “knee hyperextension and/or back knee. My knee bends backwards in a straightened position unlike many people. 4 I love the dark. I usually don’t turn on the lights unless I really have to. 5. I could sleep for long periods of time. I once slept up to 16 straight hours, and I barely have dreams. Maybe like five times a year?! 6. I don’t like/eat seaweed or seagrass. 7. I love walking into a room that is super cold. I turn on the A/C and close the door for about 30 minutes so it can be ice cold before I walk in. 8. I want to learn how to play bass guitar one day! I watch random videos of jam sessions, and one day would really like to play bass guitar. 9. My eyesight is different on both eyes. I am near-sighted on one, and far-sighted on the other. 10. I am pretty good at playing games on my phone.

#p1harmony #ot6 #t:news #era:disharmony : break out #210430

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writingandmore · 3 years

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Hi!!! May I get a HP, Star Wars, Voltron, and Disney matchup?

𝗕𝗔𝗦𝗜𝗖𝗦 + 𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘

19, Libra, Neutral Good, enneagram is 4w5, muggleborn Ravenclaw (with Gryffindor tendencies), and my patronus spirit is Hummingbird. Biromantic Pansexual Genderfluid woman using pronouns of She/Her or He/Him. Cherubic-like face, with short height (5'1") plus sized Southeast Asian woman with Spanish descent that has chic messy/wavy brunette medium hair that reaches to my shoulder, oriental skin, slightly upturned eyes, small lashes, chocolate brown irises, cute flat nose, heart shaped face, full cheeks, cupid's bow lips, a small beauty mark on the forehead, and naturally straight teeth with tiny gap in front (just imagine that it's a mixture of Marinette from 𝗠𝗶𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘂𝗹𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗟𝗮𝗱𝘆𝗯𝘂𝗴, Musa from 𝗪𝗶𝗻𝘅 𝗖𝗹𝘂𝗯, and Alexandra Trese from 𝗧𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲---cause' my friend told me that I kinda look like them). My sense of fashion is in between emo and boyish plus korean glam, I sometimes let my hair down or styled like Lara Croft reboot.

𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗬

Distant, quiet, and timid at first making people thought I'm a demure, modest, and self-effacing that looks "immaculate" or "one of a kind" (due to my protective mom, a reason why I've never been in a relationship) but the truth is, dunno how to initiate a conversation, but a total opposite if I open up---friendly, ambivert, witty, laughing loudly on a daily basis---like my happiness is too shallow, super talkative, eats a lot (yeah I can finish a huge slice of cake or a meal in one sitting), awkward, daydreamer (I got embarrassed from knocking at the door even I'm inside the classroom 😂), EXTREMELY CLUMSY (mostly gets bruises from hitting, bumping my head somewhere, walking into something on my way, and being careless to my belongings), secretly likes affection, easily overwhelmed, prone to melt over wholesomeness, flusters on compliments, lightly blushes on cheesy banters, eager to share what I know (especially about Catholic Church---my past teacher joked that I'll become a saint because of it 🤣), oftenly speaks full of sarcasm with a lowkey crackhead energy citing meme references, and talented girl who can be your no.1 supporter and unashamed to be true to myself but can be awkward to strangers. In terms of leadership, I only educate and guide than being a prefect (I might take the role seriously), will lift my group when there's lacking/incompleteness. About doing projects in school, I become too extra and prepared for efforts, but I'll forget the process in the end.

The extent, I'm expressive, warm-hearted, willig to help, kind, intelligent, supportive, nice, creative, enthusiastic, laid-back, determined, tough, competitive, and feisty outside, but a real softie that can be childish and dramatic that cries so easily (but will enlightened real quick by smallest things that makes me smile) filled with doubts, frustrations, and insecurities with fear of failure that pushes off the limits to to please everyone because they might get dissappointed from expectations---I simply can't stop proving myself too much because I'm a survivor of bullying. But I still managed to be stronger than ever after I stumbled, even it's a slow burn process. I can be blunt, intimidating, harsh, and a douchebag if I receive ends or I got interrupted while doing something. Immature, headstrong, perfectionist, demanding, hesitant, jumpy, forgetful, overthinker, quick-tempered, sensitive, and anxious (no joke, my nervousness makes me think worse scenario will arrive). Though can be procrastinator and arrogant, I raised as a religious 𝖺𝗇𝖽 diplomatic youth, willing to fight what I believe (including my dreams and what's important to me) and what is right. In addition, I have a habit of staying up late and doing sign of the cross to ease nervousness.

Rowdy and feeling-brokenhearted and bitter friend in the group who fangirl a lot, swears like sailor, will call out on people that we loathe, will make fun of your stupidity (in a good way) before helping, and bring gossips, but a hopeless romantic and cheeky (makes banter with sarcasms or pick up lines as an endearment, but gets annoyed if I received sappy or offensive one), Still generous and concerned person in a subtle and different way.

𝗛𝗢𝗕𝗕𝗜𝗘𝗦

My hobbies are singing, drawing, roleplaying, listening to music, chatting/browsing on social media, conceptualizing, writing, and reading some stuffs. I'll include making corniest jokes/puns, sleeping, and dancing when nobody's around or walking like a model if I feel so bold (even I'm terrible at both xD). I also used to learn Italian language a bit.

𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘𝗦

Loves kittens, milk tea, singing at the karaoke, cartoons, iced coffee, memes, cute things, watching YouTube videos (mostly pageants, ASMR, edit audios, and mukbangs), also enjoys playing games on my sister's PSP. Sucker for arts, choir, poetry, night sky, makeup, fun/deep/dumb conversations, Christianity, documentaries (about saints, real crime stories, and inspirational people), reading interesting stuffs, talking about social issues, and creative writing, chilling both indoors and outdoors. Beside that, my music taste are like late 90s-2000s songs (mostly rock, pop, and country) sometimes Catholic songs, kpop and ppop, chocoholic, and a sweetooth as well.

𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘𝗦

Things that I hate are stereotyping, HUGE creepy crawlies (spiders, toads, snakes, and cockroaches), firecracker sounds, thunder and lightning, being left out, loneliness, heart break, blackout, and judgemental people. If I found out that someone hates or backstabbing or being rude to me, I won't hesitate to throw offensive criticisms, leaving them with a "I don't give a f" attitude. One random fact about me is, I 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 vent out EVERYTHING I despise in my entire existence---from bad soap operas to toxicity, worse scenarios in real life, and how terrible is my love life from unrequited feelings that I got, because it's a big deal for me, and I consider forcing me to do what I'm not into and manipulating me as my major pet peeves.

𝗧𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗚𝗘𝗥𝗦

In terms of triggers...I only have two which are ta𝖨king about divorce/annullment/separation because I came from a generational broken family (it sucks that some people I knew assumed that the reason why I'm overly unaware that someone is interested in me in secret, is I have "high standards" looking for a partner, but the truth is I'm strict and I have a personal preferences...I know my worth and I don't want settle for less!) and religion/beliefs discrimination, cause' there are reasonings that doesn't makes sense because some, sounds too hypocritical, like as if you're a morally good person.

𝗥𝗢𝗠𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘 + 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗟𝗔𝗡𝗚𝗨𝗔𝗚𝗘𝗦

My love languages are quality time and gift giving, but I actually swoon over physical touch (especially cuddles and cute kisses) and words of affirmation when it comes to having a partner, though I get attracted so easily, matured but can be a goofy person who's nice, friendly, kind-hearted, loving, faithful, and excels in academics is my cup of tea. Whenever I have a real life crush (which is rare), I act the same but deep inside, my heart is about to explode and will eventually share to my trustful friends how I highly admire that person, however if they spilled the beans out, I'll obviously deny it and will cry if they like someone else, it will take some time for me to move on, now I don't care for them anymore.

Best Friends to Lovers is my ideal trope because I find it very cute since you already knew each other before dating (which happened to my 2nd cousin, she married her best friend!)---perfect balance for romance, laughters, comfort, and tears when it comes to sharing your vibes, being there through thick and thin, safe with embraces, and helping each other to grow.

𝗧𝗥𝗜𝗩𝗜𝗔𝗦

My best assets are smile, eyes, personality, singing voice, artistic skills, writings, intelligence, oratorical skills and I have potential in hosting...so I can consider myself as a singer, artist, orator, speaker, and a top student who's a former active campus ministry member with three roles (choir leader, psalm singer, and reader).

May sounds different but I'm passionate for helping people through my talents and sharing my story to inspire everyone. I may look selfish, but I have a different way on how I show that I actually care also I have a biased sentimental value

Currently a college freshman, learning how to cook. I have so many interests, to the point I don't know what I'm into because of my dreams to become a popular Filipino YouTuber, a novelist, and being part of a successful chorale competing internationally...I also consider joining pageants at school too once the pandemic ends, but maybe.

HP: Remus!

- Remus is also quiet and a bit reserved when he's not in a familiar situation, so your own first impression on him would be a good one, as you'd seem similar to his own personality. He's sweet and is able to start up a conversation if he notices the other person is having a hard time doing so, so hopefully he'd be able to bring out your more extroverted and friendly self after a while so he can be around the more open you. He wouldn't mind you being a bit awkward-he's very much the same way-honestly, the comradery that would come from that would be more positive than anything else. He loves sharing knowledge and learning about new things, so your eagerness to talk about what you know would work really well also! He does a lot better when he knows someone has his back too, so your extra supportive nature would endear him to you as well.

SW: Han!

- Your nicer and more helpful personality would balance out Han's more standoffish vibes when first meeting. You might get on his nerves a bit first, but you'd quickly grown on him and, in turn, make him a bit of a better person. Your ability to be blunt and a bit harsh would serve you well if you ever needed to stand your ground on an issue that two of you have, as he can be quite stubborn.

VLD: Lance!

- Lance can be a bit immature from time to time as well, especially when it comes to trying to be funny or cheering up those around him-he's also headstrong and typically firm in what he wants to do, so your own determined personality would attract him to you a lot as well. He often puts off things he needs to do if they make him anxious too, but if you both recognize that you share that problem, helping each other might be a good solution!

Disney: Flynn!

- Flynn is quite a sarcastic and teasing person, so your own humor would match well with his. He's also quite a hopeless romantic as well, even though he's certainly not one to admit that right off the bat. He enjoys singing, and as he gets closer to someone he feels more comfortable doing so in front of them, so a partner he's been with for a long time would get to see him be more and more open with it. That also applies to activities like dancing.

#hp matchup #remus lupin #sw matchp #han solo #vld matchup #lance mcclain #disney matchup #flynn rider

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kjack89 · 4 years

Text

How Slow Life Seems

For @impetusofadream as a much belated fill for the @bishopmyrielfundraiser. The request was for a foreign exchange student AU, which somehow morphed into a study abroad AU, which somehow morphed into, well, this.

E/R, modern AU, developing relationship. Title is from the poem also quoted in the fic (in both French and English), ‘Le pont Mirabeau’ by Guillaume Apollinaire.

“How’s the research paper going?”

Enjolras glanced up from his laptop to blink at his mom, who was leaning against his doorway, looking almost as tired as he felt. “Fine,” he said noncommittally, before sighing and amending, “Ok, actually it’s going terribly. JSTOR’s great and all, but not being able to access primary source documents directly…”

He trailed off and his mom nodded understandingly. “Well,” she said bracingly, “hopefully it’s just for the rest of this semester. Once COVID calms down, you’ll be back on campus and able to look at all the primary sources your heart desires.” She paused. “And, you know, you’ll get to see your friends again, plan more protests, get put on academic probation again…”

Enjolras laughed lightly. He couldn’t pretend that he’d always gotten along well with his parents, rebelling in a million ways throughout high school and moving all the way across the country for school. But with COVID shutting down campus, he had reluctantly returned to his parents’ house, and he was surprised to find it wasn’t as bad as he remembered.

Maybe absence really did make the heart fonder.

Or maybe it was because, on his second day back, his mom had casually dropped into conversation at the dinner table, “By the way, we’re taking in a foreign exchange student this summer. You’ll like him – he’s a non-traditional student from Poland who got a grant to come do research on populist uprisings.”

Enjolras’s mother worked with the Office of International Study at the local university, which meant as long as Enjolras could remember, there was always some random student or another who stayed with the family, normally when their own study or living arrangements got disrupted. But rarely had the student in question so perfectly matched just about every single one of Enjolras’s interests – even if he had to feign disinterest.

“Populist uprisings?” he had scoffed. “Here? Might as well come here to study Bigfoot.”

But as the days had gotten closer to the student’s – to Feuilly’s – arrival, Enjolras grew more eager. So it was with a genuine smile that he asked his mom, “Is Feuilly getting here soon?”

His mom’s smile faltered, just slightly. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about,” she said, and Enjolras’s smile faded.

“He’s not coming, is he?” he asked dully, already able to see where this conversation was going.

His mom shook her head. “No, he’s not – his university canceled all study abroad because of COVID.”

“Oh,” Enjolras said. “Of course.”

“But there is some good news!” his mom continued, in that forced way she had when she was trying to get him to agree to something she knew he wasn’t going to want to do. “There are a number of foreign exchange students stuck here who can’t go home, so you will at least have some company, for a few weeks, anyway, until we’re able to safely get them home.”

Enjolras perked up, just slightly. “So who’s coming to stay with us?” he asked, trying not to sound so excited at the prospect of any company that wasn’t his capitalism-loving parents.

“His name’s Grantaire,” his mom, sounding relieved that he seemed open to it. “You’ll like him,” she added quickly. “He’s Canadian! You can practice your French!”

Enjolras considered it for a moment. “Well,” he said hesitantly, “I suppose it could be worse.”

---------

“Oh, sorry,” Grantaire said, somewhere in between bored and awkward. “I don’t really speak French.”

It was the second thing Grantaire said to him, right after “Hi” and right before, “Oh, I don’t really care about politics.”

Needless to say, Enjolras did not like him.

Grantaire was an art student, and slept until 2 in the afternoon most days, and sat out on the back porch smoking cigarettes while scrolling idly through his phone, and openly laughed whenever Enjolras tried to engage him in any kind of political conversation, and seemed to have absolutely no interest in going anywhere or doing anything.

It was hard to say which Enjolras liked least.

Granted, in the era of COVID there wasn’t exactly a whole lot to go do or see, but even outside of the immediate, Grantaire seemed to have no ambition towards doing anything. When Enjolras asked, a little stiffly, why he had bothered to study abroad when he clearly didn’t care about expanding his horizons, Grantaire just shrugged, ducking his head to light the cigarette in his mouth. “Free trip, I guess,” he said, blowing smoke out of his nose and grinning at Enjolras lazily.

Enjolras was not amused.

His mom didn’t help matters, encouraging him at every given opportunity to spend more time with Grantaire. “He must be homesick,” she reasoned.

“I’m not entirely sure that Grantaire cares enough about anything to miss it,” Enjolras muttered, and she gave him a look.

“Imagine being stuck in a foreign country during a pandemic with no knowledge of when you’re going to be able to go home,” she said. “He needs our understanding, and I’d hazard that he also needs a friend.”

But every attempt Enjolras made towards conversation – he wouldn’t go so far as to say friendship – was met with mockery at worst or disinterest at best, so Enjolras gave up, figuring they were better off ignoring each other.

At least until one night, when Enjolras was up even later than usual, sprawled out on the couch with his laptop balanced on his lap and books spread around him. He jerked upright when the door banged open, though he settled back down again when he heard Grantaire swear to himself. “Oh,” Grantaire said, and Enjolras didn’t bother looking up at him. “What’re you doing up?”

“Studying,” Enjolras said, pointedly vague, but Grantaire didn’t seem to take the hint, leaning down to rest his elbows against the back of the couch as he peered down at Enjolras’s computer screen.

“Thought your semester was done.”

“It is,” Enjolras said with a scowl as he shifted his computer so that Grantaire couldn’t read it. “I’m not studying for school, I’m trying to draft a bill to create criminal penalties for racially-motivated false police calls.”

Grantaire snorted, straightening and heading into the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge. “Of course you are,” he said derisively.

On any other night, Enjolras might have ignored him, but that night, he couldn’t quite bring himself to, instead closing his laptop and sitting up to glare at Grantaire as he settled down at the kitchen table. “Something wrong with trying to bring a little bit of justice into the world?” he asked, his voice brittle.

Grantaire just shrugged. “Not at all, but if you think that’s what justice looks like, you’ve got another think coming.”

Enjolras scowled. “What are you even talking about?” he snapped.

“I’m talking about the irony of someone who I’m sure espouses the need to abolish the the police and the criminal justice suddenly being ok with using said criminal justice system to punish the local Karens.”

Enjolras stared at him. “I don’t know—”

“Yeah, I’m sure you don’t,” Grantaire scoffed, a small smirk lifting the corners of his mouth.

Enjolras ground his teeth together, irritation making his blood boil. “What, and you’re suddenly an expert in criminal justice?”

“Not even remotely,” Grantaire said breezily, draining his beer and standing. “But when I say Fuck 12, I don’t intend to turn around and say that they’re ok when they’re enforcing my agenda.”

Enjolras opened his mouth to retort before closing it again, the sinking feeling in his stomach telling him that, as much as he might want to deny it in the moment, Grantaire might have a point.

He hated him more than a little for that.

It took him a moment to push the feeling aside. “I didn’t realize you cared,” he said stiffly, and Grantaire paused on his way out of the kitchen.

“I don’t,” he said with a shrug. “And it’s not like Canada’s much better when it comes to police brutality against Black and brown folks, especially indigenous folks.” He paused, his expression unreadable in the dim light “But I just figured someone like you should probably think through all the sides of things.”

Enjolras eyed him warily. “I don’t know whether to be grateful or insulted.”

Grantaire scratched his neck and shrugged. “Honestly, it’s a crapshoot either way.”

Enjolras couldn’t help but laugh lightly at that as he opened his laptop again. “Well, you’ve at least given me something to think about.”

Grantaire made a mocking bow. “My legacy, monsieur,” he said, turning to go upstairs to his bedroom.

“My mom thinks you might be homesick.”

Enjolras didn’t know what possessed him to just blurt that out, and he couldn’t help but hold his breath slightly as Grantaire froze before turning back to him. “Does she,” he said noncommittally, more a statement than a question.

Enjolras jerked a shrug, staring down at his laptop as if he couldn’t care less if Grantaire was homesick. “Yeah.”

“She’s a nice woman, your mom,” Grantaire said, leaning against the doorway and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I get why you probably don’t get along with her or your dad, since they’re, you know, the bourgeoisie that you with your upper middle class upbringing disdain so much, but she is nice.”

Enjolras nodded slowly. “Are you homesick, then?” he asked.

“Oh, no,” Grantaire said with a laugh, and Enjolras blinked up at him. “You haven’t leveled up far enough to access my tragic backstory or find out if I’m missing home.”

Enjolras scowled. “I wasn’t aware that asking you basic facts about your emotional state counts as unlocking a tragic backstory.”

Grantaire winked. “That’s because you don’t know anything about my emotional state.”

“Well, am I allowed to ask you about something else?”

“Sure,” Grantaire said easily, and Enjolras was taken aback for a moment. He hadn’t expected Grantaire to agree, so he fumbled for a question to actually ask.

“Where do you go?” he asked abruptly, and it was Grantaire’s turn to look taken aback.

“Where do I go?” he repeated.

“When you go out,” Enjolras said impatiently, waving a vague hand in the direction of the door. “When you disappear for hours on end – where do you go?”

Grantaire grinned. “That’s a good question,” he admitted, rapping lightly on the doorframe with his knuckles. “Good enough that you should ask me again sometime.”

Enjolras frowned. “Why?”

“Because one day I just might show you.”

He disappeared, leaving Enjolras staring after him.

----------

Something after that changed between them. It wasn’t like they were suddenly friends or anything like that, but Enjolras was beginning to sense that maybe they could be.

Underneath the cynicism, Grantaire actually seemed to share most of the same political beliefs as Enjolras – even if he chalked up said political beliefs to ‘wishful thinking’.

That used to piss Enjolras off, but somehow, it didn’t anymore. He told himself that it was because he now realized there was actual substance beneath the scorn and dismissal.

He also told himself that it had nothing to do with noticing the way that Grantaire’s eyes sparkled everytime he said it, as if it was somehow an inside joke between them.

Enjolras found that his usual late nights staying up, studying and working into the early hours, were now interrupted by Grantaire joining him, usually with a beer in hand. But it was becoming harder to see them as interruptions because somehow, Grantaire had a knack for finding ways to make Enjolras’s arguments better. Sharper. As if the teasing the torment was always intended to get him to this point.

Now that Grantaire wasn’t interrupting him, the only person that was when Enjolras’s mom would come downstairs to shush them for arguing too loudly. After one such time, a couple of weeks after that first night, Grantaire leaned back against the couch and remarked casually, “Your mom is nice.”

“You’ve said that before,” Enjolras said, highlighting something in the article he was reading before glancing up at Grantaire. “I’ll take it that your mom isn’t?”

He asked it casually, and for a moment, Grantaire looked like he might deny it. But then he just shrugged, staring moodily into the distance. “She was never cruel,” he said, something almost cold in his tone. “She and my dad didn’t beat me, or abuse me. They just—” He broke off, his expression darkening. “I dunno. Kids can tell, I think, when they were never really wanted.”

He said it plainly, matter-of-factly, and that somehow made it so much worse. Enjolras wasn’t sure whether to say something – or what to say, for that matter – but Grantaire saved him from having to. “My parents had me as an attempt to keep their marriage together. It didn’t work. And after that, I don’t think either of them was ever really that interested in being a parent.” He made a face. “Save for telling me how disappointing I was.”

“I’m sorry.”

Enjolras winced as he said it, but Grantaire just waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t be,” he scoffed. “It’s not a tragedy in the grand scheme of things. And all things, I’ve been lucky. I grew up with food on the table, a house over my head, excellent schooling– Well, until university, that is. They cut me off when I told them I was planning on getting an arts degree instead of something useful.”

He made another face and took a long pull from his beer before forcing a smile. “And there you have it, my tragic backstory. Congratulations on leveling up.”

Enjolras laughed, but only because it seemed expected of him. Grantaire relaxed slightly at that, though he froze when Enjolras added, in what he hoped was a casual way, “Neglect is still abuse, you know.”

“Maybe,” Grantaire acknowledged before smiling again, this time a genuine smile. “But honestly it may have been for the best. After all, regardless of whether it was a tragedy in the grand scheme of things, somehow or another, it still got me here.” He paused, his grin widening. “Where I can annoy you until all hours of the night.”

“Aren’t I lucky,” Enjolras said dryly, and Grantaire laughed, the moment between them ending almost as quickly as it had started.

But something about it lingered with Enjolras, and it took him a few days to realize what it was: he did feel a little bit lucky, all things considered. He was surprised to find that he liked Grantaire, liked spending time with him. Grantaire made him laugh, and rage, and on occasion, scowl and sulk when Grantaire knocked down one of his arguments.

Grantaire made him feel what previously had always been reserved for his causes.

And even though Enjolras knew Grantaire would have to leave eventually, when once he would’ve given anything to get rid of him, now he was surprised to find that he didn’t want him to go at all.

----------

“What are you doing tonight?” Grantaire asked abruptly, and Enjolras didn’t even look up from his computer.

“Same thing we do every night, Pinky,” he murmured. “Try to take over the world.”

“Hilarious,” Grantaire said dryly. “But I meant it.”

Enjolras sighed and looked up. “Well, I’ve got about a half dozen articles I need to read, not to mention there’s some really interesting case law coming out from Clay County, Illinois, regarding suing a governor over executive powers, and—”

“So nothing important, in other words,” Grantaire interrupted with a grin.

Enjolras’s eyes narrowed. “And what more important thing did you have in mind to do tonight?”

Grantaire’s grin widened. “Ask your question from before,” he said, and Enjolras stared at him for a long moment before remembering.

“Where do you go?” he asked, and Grantaire’s grin softened.

“Let me show you,” he said, holding his hand out to Enjolras. “With your permission, of course.”

Enjolras hesitated for only a moment before taking Grantaire’s hand and allowing Grantaire to pull him off the couch and out the door, face masks in hand.

The answer to Enjolras’s question, it seemed, was everywhere. Enjolras had grown up in this town, but he had never seen it like this, following Grantaire down alleys and through neighborhoods he didn’t even know existed. Their first stop was a little corner liquor store that Enjolras must’ve passed hundreds of times without every going in, and Enjolras even drank some of the wine Grantaire offered him, shifting their masks to drink straight from the brown paper bag-wrapped bottle as they made their way across town to some dingy dive bar.

But instead of going in, Grantaire led him over to a man selling tamales by the front door. “Best tamales in the city,” Grantaire assured Enjolras, who found that he didn’t doubt him.

From there, they crisscrossed the entire town, it seemed, pausing in a back alley to listen to a band playing some tiny venue Enjolras had never heard of, or swinging past the local movie theatre, which was projecting old films on the side of the building, turning their parking lot into a mini drive-in.

Enjolras didn’t say much, other than to comment a few times on mask compliance and social distancing, but he didn’t feel like the silence between them was uncomfortable, mainly because there wasn’t much silence. Even with a pandemic, there was still people on the sidewalk, talking loudly with each other, and cars crowding the streets, and even the sound of cicadas turning the quiet night into a cacophony.

They ended in a park, where Grantaire helped Enjolras over the temporary fence set up to block access to the playground, and they sat down on the swings, Enjolras facing one direction, Grantaire facing the other. “So this was…” Enjolras started, trailing off as he searched for the right word.

“Stupid?” Grantaire suggested, with a self-deprecating laugh.

Enjolras looked over at him sharply. “The opposite, actually,” he said. “I think I saw more of this city tonight than I have in my entire time living here.” He shrugged, glancing around them. “I’ve spent almost my entire life here, and I’ve never seen it like this.”

“You should try sometime,” Grantaire said, and there was something serious in his voice, so much so that Enjolras looked over at him, searching his expression. “Sometimes I think that you’re so focused on what needs fixing that you don’t stop and see the beauty in the brokenness.”

“Well, that’s your job,” Enjolras said, aiming for a joke but falling flat. “As an artist, I mean.”

“I knew what you meant,” Grantaire said quietly.

For a moment, they both sat in silence before Grantaire told Enjolras, “I’m leaving in two days.”

“What?” Enjolras asked blankly.

“Your mom told me today. I finally got cleared by my university to return to Canada.”

Enjolras’s entire chest felt like it was being squeezed. “That’s—” he started, his voice coming out a croak, and he swallowed, hard. “I mean, that’s what you’ve been waiting for, right?”

Grantaire jerked a shrug. “I guess.”

There were a million things that Enjolras wanted to say to him, but none of the words seemed to come. Instead, he asked, hesitantly, “Is that...is that why you decided to show me this? Because you’re leaving?”

“No.” Grantaire shook his head, something almost urgent in his tone. “I wanted to show you this because you needed to see it. You are so focused on changing what’s out there that you don’t take the time to stop and see what’s right here.”

“And you do?” Enjolras asked.

“Maybe.”

Enjolras was suddenly aware of how close they were, brushing against each other in the dark as they had twisted in their swings to face each other. “And what do you see?” he asked softly.

Instead of answering, Grantaire leaned in and kissed him.

----------

It was somewhat of an answer in its own way, and judging by the chaos of packing that followed the next day, it was the only answer that Enjolras was ever going to get. He wanted desperately to talk to Grantaire, to talk about what had happened in that park, or about the millions of other things he had just assumed they would have time to talk about, but time was the one thing they didn’t have.

Not during the day, anyway.

But in lieu of their usual late night bantering, Enjolras crept into Grantaire’s bedroom after his parents had gone to bed. “Enjolras?” Grantaire asked, sitting up. “What are you—”

Enjolras kissed him, a little desperately. “I wanted to do that,” he said, his voice breathy.

Grantaire’s hands dropped to rest against his waist. “Is that all you wanted?” he asked, his voice low.

“I also wanted to talk.”

Grantaire groaned softly. “Of course you do,” he said with a sigh, dropping his hands and flopping back down on the bed. “Let me guess, about what this means, or what this is between us?”

Despite himself, despite not wanting to ruin what little time they had left, Enjolras scowled. “Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?”

“It’s not, it’s just—” Grantaire broke off with a sigh. “It’s predictable. Remember what I said about you being too busy trying to fix what’s out there to focus on what’s right here?”

Enjolras’s scowl deepened. “I don’t think this—”

“No, but I do.” Grantaire sat up again, his expression serious. “Look, if you can honestly tell me that talking about this will make the fact that I am leaving tomorrow easier or better, then I’m happy to spend this entire night talking.” He paused as if waiting for Enjolras to attempt exactly that. “But if you can’t, then don’t make me waste this night.”

Enjolras bit his lip. “Well, then what do you want to do?” he asked, hastening to add, “Besides, you know, that, because that’s not happening tonight.”

Grantaire half-smiled. “All I want is to hold you,” he said simply, holding his hand out to Enjolras. “Can we do that?”

The breath seemed to catch in Enjolras’s throat. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I’d – I’d like that.”

He let Grantaire pull him onto the bed, curling reflexively against him and tilting his head up so that Grantaire could kiss him, slow and sweet.

True to what Grantaire said, that’s all they did, lying there together, wrapped up in each other and in the millions of unspoken could-have and should-have-beens. Enjolras rested his head against Grantaire’s chest. “‘M falling asleep,” he murmured, and Grantaire smoothed the hair away from his forehead.

“Then sleep,” he said, his voice low in Enjolras’s ear. “I’ve got you, I promise.”

Enjolras believed him.

And as he drifted off into sleep, he could’ve sworn he heard Grantaire whispering into his ear, “L'amour s'en va comme cette eau courante, L'amour s'en va, Comme la vie est lente, Et comme l'Espérance est violente.”

----------

Enjolras only just made it back to his own bed the next morning before his parents woke up, not that it mattered in the chaos of getting Grantaire’s stuff packed into the car so they could drive to the airport. Enjolras and Grantaire sat in the back seat, neither seeming to want to break the silence, though once, when Enjolras’s parents weren’t looking, Grantaire grabbed Enjolras’s hand and raised it to his lips to kiss Enjolras’s knuckles.

Still, the reality set in after Grantaire checked his bags and rejoined Enjolras and his parents, who tactfully gave them some room to say their goodbyes. “I spent most of my summer counting down until you left,” Enjolras told him, and Grantaire laughed.

“You sure know how to make a girl feel special,” he teased, but Enjolras didn’t smile.

“But now that you’re actually going—”

“I know,” Grantaire said softly. “But I have to go. Besides, someone’s got to be ready with a place for you to stay for when you inevitably try to overthrow the government and need to flee the country.”

Enjolras half-smiled. “Depending on how November goes, that may be sooner rather than later.”

Grantaire shuddered. “Don’t even joke about that.”

“Sorry,” Enjolras said, before adding, a little desperately, “I’m going to miss you.”

Grantaire ducked his head. “Who knows,” he said, “maybe I’ll look into transferring schools.”

“Really?”

Grantaire shrugged. “Yeah, it’s not like I have much to look forward to back home.” He nudged Enjolras with his elbow. “But I do have a really compelling reason to come back here.”

Enjolras shook his head, his throat tight. “Don’t transfer just because of me.”

“Don’t you have a high opinion of yourself,” Grantaire said mockingly. “I was referring to the tamales.”

But Enjolras didn’t laugh. “I mean it.”

Grantaire raised an eyebrow. “You and I both know that you need me, too. So it’s only half for me.”

Enjolras did smile at that, a little reluctantly. “Maybe.”

Grantaire nodded, and glanced towards security, his expression darkening. “Well,” he said, clearing his throat. “I guess I should be going. And I’ll, uh, see when I see you, I guess.”

Enjolras nodded as well. “Yeah,” he said, his voice thick.

Grantaire hefted his bag onto his shoulder and turned to leave when Enjolras said, “Oh, and Grantaire?”

“Yeah?” Grantaire said, turning back.

“Always joy comes after pain.”

Grantaire blinked. “Beg pardon?”

“From the poem you recited to me last night.” A slow grin spread across Grantaire’s face, and Enjolras said, mock-accusatory, “You said you didn’t speak French.”

“I lied,” Grantaire said, and Enjolras shook his head.

“And what else did you lie about?” he asked, putting his hands on his hips.

Grantaire didn’t hesitate, closing the space between them to kiss Enjolras. “Well,” he said, “I said I wasn’t going to do that, for starters.”

“I think I can forgive that,” Enjolras whispered, kissing Grantaire again before asking, “Anything else?’

Grantaire grinned. “Let’s save that for the next time we see each other.”

Enjolras smiled as well. “I’m gonna hold you to that,” he warned.

Grantaire pulled him into a hug, one that Enjolras was only too happy to return. “I hope to God you do,” Grantaire whispered in his ear before kissing his cheek once more.

“I will,” Enjolras promised, and this time when Grantaire turned to head into security, Enjolras didn’t stop him.

He didn’t have to, because for once, Enjolras saw things exactly as they were right in front of him.

But he also knew he’d find a way to fix it, and for them to be together again.

One way or another.

#enjolras #grantaire #exr #enjolras x grantaire #enjoltaire #fanfiction #les miserables #modern au #developing relationship #study abroad au

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oneweekoneband · 3 years

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her Nebraska (1982)

In July I flew to Massachusetts with a plague on, and I felt that it was wrong, but my mother had begged and I’d been out of work for months. Mornings there I ran in long, uneven ovals on the same roads I’d memorized in high school. There’s no sidewalks, but the few feet of dirt between the craggy pavement and the open mouths of the fields serve all right for a single body in motion. When a truck comes up close from behind, the ground shakes, and I step away bouncingly from the street toward thigh-high yellow weeds and grass, and keep going. I was slowly picking my way back in that dirt, sweat-slick from only a plodding couple of miles in peak summer heat, and sucking the wet cotton of my mask in between my teeth on every inhale, when Taylor Swift announced she was releasing a surprise album produced by the guy from The National. Not the guy from The National, like, the voice, but the guy from The National whose photo was circulated on Twitter earlier this year as some kind of antifa super soldier, which isn’t the case, but would’ve been rad. First, I stopped dead to send some outraged, misspelled text messages, and then I ran home faster than I’d moved in years.

Tall, blonde, patrician pop star Taylor Swift is to me something like a cross-between a wife and a boogeyman. Bound we’ve been since we were really children. Time and its changes haven’t rid me of her, and what’s worse is I have never quite been able to wish they would, though I claim as much all the time. Countless hours of my one wild and precious life have been spent on endlessly analyzing the minutiae of Taylor Swift’s music, the mind that made it, the real world events which influenced it. And though all the while I have known she is only a person, and that people, while each strange and lovely in their own ways, are, in the end, mostly dull, needful in just the regular manner, the fantasy is better, the sick dream of a megalomaniac songstress, curious, thrilling, probably evil, and I choose that. I don’t know Taylor Alison Swift, born to this world in, I presume, the usual way. But my Taylor Swift? I’m a renowned expert. I’ve always eaten up stories—movies, music, celebrity news, the one my grandfather tells about falling off his bike once in Ireland as a boy and his face “cracking open like an egg”—like a starved dog. I’m obsessive about my interests, but not inclined to intense fandom, and certainly not fandom in the mode of the stan. For one, I’m too self-absorbed. But caring intensely for a famous person is falling in love with a ghost, and that’s all right—I mean, what the hell? We’re here together just dying... Let’s enjoy—but is an affair best undertaken with the knowledge that everyone alive has their own complex interiority, as unruly as your own, and that you, a stranger, are not in any real way connected to the lawless, blurry middle of that celebrity, and will never be. It’s freeing and fun to know this. I mean, these people are basically in your employ. Glamorous dollhouse dwellers. Acknowledging that uncrossable distance allows for a different, healthier closeness of pure imagination. My feelings, then, can comfortably be at once both fiercely intense and entirely silly. I am a foremost scholar in the art of the Taylor Swift who exists in my head. The real person raised in Pennsylvania I don’t know at all. I have some conjectures on the matter, and, as with all my conjectures, every hackneyed theory, each picky little opinion, I’m sure they’re perfect, brilliant, just absolutely right, but that’s still all they are. Taylor Swift, figure of the cultural imagination, is the Jodie Comer to my Sandra Oh in Killing Eve, annoying and pretty in frills, taunting me endlessly and holding us trapped together in a dance of most enchanting death. But the real Taylor Swift has favorite bed sheets and a social security number and a British boyfriend, none of which I have any desire to know about, and if I saw her at a restaurant I’d politely avert my eyes before, yes, dive-bombing the group text. There’s nobody on Earth I’d stand in line to speak to, but then I’ve been speaking to a certain figment of Taylor Swift for nearly half my life.

I went to a Taylor Swift concert the night before I moved into college in 2009. My father’s work friend, firefighter by day, near professional gambler by night, got comped tickets to the Fearless Tour stop taking place at the nearby casino, and he let me have them as a reward, mainly, for happening to be seventeen. Live in-person and performed acoustically, “Fifteen” made me cry. A few years after that, in the thick, sticky part of my first post-college summer, I wrote approximately twenty-three million words about her in these very pages. (”Pages”) At that point, Taylor’s most recent release was 2012’s Red, and the work I produced that long ago July about Taylor and her career, writing I was fairly pleased with at the time, feels now, besides just being extremely clearly written by a twenty-one year old, strange to me for the way it favors the sweet over the sour almost uniformly. There is a wholesome kind of ardor in that writing which maybe I’ve outgrown the ability to hold. Or maybe Taylor just proceeded to spend the next half a decade plus releasing one bad single after another, and it was taste—and trespasses against taste—and not some shift in my nature which altered the tenor of our bond. I have real love for my particular image, gleaned from public statements and published art, of smart, bizarre famous woman Taylor Swift, and I admire the bulk of her output very much. I’m just no longer so inclined to fawn. This is not to say I am here to offer a Taylor Swift hate screed. I couldn’t swing it, and, anyway, I’m not a pop feminist-for-hire circa 2010. But we’re older now. Things are different. At twenty-eight, twenty-nine this month—Taylor will, also this December, turn thirty-one—I regard Taylor Swift warily, like an ex with whom you have a tentative friendship, perpetually on the brink of falling one way or the other into hatred or delight, only to wobble back the opposite direction again at the slightest provocation, but still, despite best efforts, even, I regard her all the time.

folklore was released at midnight on July 24th 2020, but I was at a cabin in rural Vermont without Internet or cell service. I drank Bud Light seltzers with my mother while watching the eerie pandemic return of Major League Baseball, and when I got into a strange bed there I stewed, knowing there were people out in the world all over who were hearing Taylor Swift songs I never had, and that this was a fundamental wrong, a disruption in the balance of the universe. I listened to it the next morning in a Dunkin’ Donuts parking lot.

And folklore is great. That’s the terrible thing. Slightly less great, maybe, than some people have insisted, tricked, I think, by just the pronounced shift in sound. But it’s great. A little gift I asked for a thousand times and was still surprised to get, like a wife who didn’t expect her henpecked husband to ever follow through and buy the paraffin wax hand bath as-see-on-TV. For years, I’ve been halfheartedly insisting that Taylor had a great album in her. I’d say it even, perhaps especially, while she stubbornly fed me gruel. Or worse, gruel with the occasional whiff of something better. With a ripe, little raspberry dropped into the slop. The bright, villainous thrill of “Getaway Car” made me believe Taylor, my Taylor, was in there somewhere under the lacquer of sequins and synth, which, while not objectionable by default, seemed a costume, and an ill-fitting one. The lived-in world of “Cornelia Street” made those old scars sting. That gay “Delicate” video. When she did “Call It What You Want” on SNL and played guitar while wearing an ugly sweater. If the abominable “ME!”, lead single off Lover, was the stick, 1989’s “Clean” was the carrot. I was Charlie Brown, and Taylor my Lucy, yanking the football back again and again. Over drinks I still yelled that Taylor Swift’s next album would be, “her Nebraska”, referring to my favorite Bruce Springsteen record, and learned to live with that egg on my face for good. I suppose I even came to like it. There was something inherently funny in taking up, like, “blind faith in the as of yet untapped greater artistic potential of massively wealthy and popular singer Taylor Swift” as my totally inane personal cause du jour, and eventually it was a bit, a gag I performed to be obstinate and didactic, but way down somewhere awful near my kidneys I meant it the whole while. And then she did it. A pandemic befell the world and amid a sea of human suffering Taylor Swift remembered she can write. She wrote, and with a massive, crucial assist from Aaron Dessner, whose music on this record is sometimes so beautiful it actually angers me, as the last thing I needed in already perilous times was to be made to try and marry my uniquely perverse emotional responses to beloved divorced dad band The National and fucking Taylor Swift, she made an album which, if not her Nebraska, per se (I’ve come to realize that a major part of believing Taylor Swift will one day make an album I find as quietly devastating and gorgeous as Nebraska is knowing that no album will ever actually be Her Nebraska... That each will, rather, to me, be more and more evidence that it’s coming still, more proof that the limit is untouched, on and on ad infinitum, or at least until the seas take us into a place of salty peace.) is a shocking credit to all my hard-fought and deluded confidence. folklore is great. This fact has made me feel almost equally as disoriented from my understanding of the world as the time-melting COVID-19 lockdowns have, and it turned my Spotify year in review annual collective AI humiliation kink thing into a glaring indictment of my mental state, but still, I mean... It’s great.

In talking about folklore a bit this week, there are a number of specific topics I intend to cover—what a thrill it is to hear Taylor say “fuck”; Taylor’s terrifying birth chart; the astoundingly perfect bridge of “the last great american dynasty”; “because my ass is located at the back of my body”; the bit in last year’s “Lover” where deranged WASP Taylor Swift implies that to “leave the Christmas lights up til January” is some signifier of being a love-struck bohemian, when actually everyone who doesn’t employ domestic staff to take their lights down does this; how reputation is the best of the Taylor Swift records released in the latter half of the 2010s, actually, and the people who can’t see that are cowards—but intend mostly to let the muse move me where she will. Against the advice of my better angels, she—that tie-in marketing eldritch terror—always does.

#taylor swift #folklore

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gemmassong · 3 years

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So uh. It’s 4:17am and I know literally no one cares but I just finished watching Bo Burnham’s new special and like, holy shit. I have some Feelings. And this is my fucking tumblr so unfortunately anyone who follows me can and will be subjected to those Feelings. Apologies in advance. I blame my high school English teacher for this, who I had for freshmen, junior, and senior year, because that cunt made as analyze and pick apart not just books but documentaries, movies, and other pieces of media to such an extreme degree I still blame her for a lot of my academic burnout and inability to really engage with my college courses because what was the fucking point. If I could write the best paper in the class and still not get a full score when my classmates with less well written shit did because I ‘wasn’t reaching my full potential or putting in as much effort as required’ why should I bother.

Off topic. I’ll put the rest under a cut to be vaguely courteous because this is going to be a lot of semi-organized rambling that I’m putting here mostly so I can stare at it in baffled, disgusted horror at ~2pm tomorrow when I go back and reread it. And then decide not to delete it anyway because hey, I don’t delete anything because I enjoy tormenting myself years down the road.

I grew up with Bo Burnham, yeah? I knew all the lyrics to New Math when I was in middle school and you can bet your ass I understood like, four verses at the time I first started singing it. And I remember the vivid pleasure of going through high school and hating math because I suck at it (ayooo failed out of Calc senior year first semester~ (they weren’t called semesters in hs they were some quarterly thing but I don’t fucking remember the right term)) and the absolute joy realizing how one of those verses were clever was brought me. Like, every time I understood a new verse in New Math it made my entire day so much better.

And then the summer after my first year of college I, for some fucking reason I cannot fathom now, 20 year old me thought it was a brilliant idea to decide to watch What. with my parents while we ate dinner. I had seen What. before. I knew what the contents entailed. I was apparently 100% down to watch him pretend to jack off on stage while eating taco salad in the living room with both of my parents who were so closed mouthed about sex that I got literally my entire sexual education from fanfiction.

And then my cat had a seizure literally right before that scene so fate helped me escape that hell for some reason, and yes, Siren was fine after a very scary night.

But like. Still. What the fuck, 20 year old me. Why did you set yourself up for the mortifying experience of watching a comedian mime jacking off while sitting next to your mother. Why.

So anyway. Bo Burnham was peripherally a part of my life for a very long time. I’ve always really liked him. I wish he had made more vines while vine was still a thing because the ‘is there anything better than pussy’ one still cracks me tf up.

I saw a post here at some point about how the new special made someone feel like they’d just watched his suicide note. And I didn’t take it seriously, because yeah, Make Happy got kinda serious and stressful there at the end but like?

Maaaaan am I glad I watched Inside though, despite being vaguely concerned. I totally get where that person was coming from. It does kinda feel like that. At the same time though, I just have this feeling that Inside is going to be important.

Here’s where I finally get to the actual fucking point of the post.

Collectively, entertainment media is desperately trying right now to figure out how the hell to handle the pandemic. Ignore it? Pretend all media now exists in a universe where the shitstorm of 2020 didn’t exist? Most of the ones that I’ve seen have gone down what I consider the absolute worst route, which is of course terrible fucking writing that kind of? addresses the pandemic and shit that went down, but like, with clunky dialogue and really bad jokes. I’m mostly talking about the Roseanne spinoff/sequel/whatever the fuck it’s considered, of which I watched half an episode of and then silently begged my fiance to let us leave his mother’s house because she was laughing at it and it was genuinely, horrifically painful. This is why I don’t watch tv anymore.

ANYWAY. He never mentions it. Not once. There are plenty of really relevant things discussed and pointed out and I think one? mention of the actual year 2020 but beyond that. Nothing. And I feel like Inside might be one of the most genuine, visceral, real pieces of media portraying the pandemic that we, as an American society anyway, are going to come away from this all with. At least everyone in my own admittedly piss poor social circles has spent like last ~year and a half doing that social media thing where the more you post about how well you’re doing and great it all is, the more miserable and bad off you really are.

(Yes, that is how I judge my ‘friends’’ relationships on facebook. The more pictures/posts/tagged shit/social media demonstrations of how ~amazing~ and ~in love~ and ~perfect~ everything is, the worse I assume the reality is.)

But Inside strikes as very, very real. And I just feel like 20 30 40 50 years from now, when we’re talking about the 2020 pandemic and how it shaped and shifted and effected and destroyed people and society, it’s going to be a very important piece of media. Because so far, anyway, it’s the first one I’ve seen where you can actually see it all go down. The absolute fucking breakdown so many of us went through. Dealing with worsening mental problems that had previously been getting better, lost progress, ruined plans and dreams and missed opportunities and everything else.

It’s the first one that strikes as real, I guess. As not manufactured. Not tailored to portray the ‘correct’ message. Not diminishing or exaggerating anything but just... showing. Existing within the reality of the year. And not being apologetic or ashamed about it.

I’m glad he actually went through with putting it out into the world. That probably took a whole lot to do, and I hope good things get to him for going through with it all. For completing it and giving it to the world. It was visceral and raw to watch and my piss poor attention span that needs 20+ tabs open at all times actually sat there and watched it, in full, all the way through in one go. Without pausing to read a fic, watch something else, check facebook or tumblr, answer a roleplay, or skim through omegle to see if anyone good was online. That’s like, unheard of these days.

I just. I dunno. There’s a lot there to breakdown. A part of me wants to do it, take the time and write the analysis and the breakdowns and pick out what I think the important bits are. But I hate doing that now and I’m sure the desire will be gone come afternoon-morning, along with all these weird feelings about it.

This has gotten long enough and it’s 4:47 now, so half an hour of word vomiting into a tumblr post is probably too much. So I guess I’ll call it quits and maybe maybe not delete this when I wake up. Night, anyone who actually suffered through reading this mess.

#Maddie talks #Weird thoughts mostly #Don't expect anyone to actually read but hey #that's not what this blog is there for so why not word vomit just for my future self

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annakie · 3 years

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A Lot of Words about a Thing

This is a “I’m writing this out so next time someone asks I can just point them to this (or copy/paste) instead of having to type it again” thing.

I’ve been doing Hello Fresh for the last two or three months and I thought I’d talk about the ups and downs of it and if I’m going to keep doing it. This is not an endorsement (which will be clear when you get to the overall middling scoring), but I will put a link at the bottom so we can both get a deal if you want to try it.

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

So anyway, I had been thinking about doing a meal kit for a long time but pulled the trigger on it back in... like Mid-January, I guess?

the tl;dr of it all is that I like it and I’ll probably keep doing it for awhile, but it’s not for everyone, and is expensive for what it is, especially if you already know how to cook.

Before I started, I made myself sit down and write out a quick list of what I wanted to get out of trying a meal kit experience, so I’ll rate how successful or not each one of those things is.

First of all, I want to also say, I can already cook. I’m a pretty good cook. I can follow a recipe and improvise successfully when necessary usually. One reason why a lot of people do a meal kit is because they need to learn how to cook and that definitely wasn’t me.

Also, they offer a variety of number and portions on meals to try. I get three meals a week, with two portions a meal, which means I cook Hello Fresh for dinner one night, and usually the next night have the leftovers. Friday night is usually “Yay You Made It To The Weekend, You Get To Order Takeout” night. You can order for several more meals a week, and for up to four portions in each meal, if you want.

So on to the reasons why I decided to try HF, with a grading of how I feel about each one after trying.

Reason One: Try Something New

I was super excited at the beginning of the pandemic now working from home full time, because this was a great chance to really start trying some new recipes. I had fallen into a pretty bad rut for awhile of some of the same frozen type meals or just making super easy things for dinner and sandwiches for lunch pre-pandemic. Even though my commute was stupid easy I often felt too wiped at the end of the day to make like, real meals. So when the pandemic hit and I was Home All The Time, for the first couple of months I was buying interesting ingredients (what I could get my hands on at the time) and really digging into making new and interesting things. Even baking my own bread and bought some new kitchen gadgets like a pressure cooker to expand my repertoire.

By like... the end of summer... well the good news was that I was still cooking and hadn’t fallen back to a packaged-food routine most of the time (though still some frozen pizzas or bags of pre-made Asian or Italian food you cook on the stovetop mostly for lunch) but also I had more or less found The Ten Things I Make (like Spaghetti, a great chicken and rice dish that is so good and makes about 6 meals worth of leftovers) and I was real tired of like, recipe hunting. The most work I was then doing was finding new pressure cooker recipes and tbh almost all of what I was making was Chicken In Some Kind of Sauce Over Rice. I was burned out.

So Hello Fresh... has been great for that. I have only made the same thing a couple of times and those were only because i loved them so much the first time I wanted that thing again. For the most part, I have tried just a ton of new things, including some ingredients I’ve never worked with before or really thought I wouldn’t like! And I did! I feel like I am often trying something I have never made before.

Reason 1.5: Variety

OK this is hand-in-hand with Something New but also slightly different.

Try Something New would be rated like a 4.5 out of 5 stars.... but some stars are taken away though, because a lot of their recipes are very similar. For a protein, there’s like, chicken breasts, hamburger meat, pork chops, chicken sausage and pork sausage. Occasionally steak. Basically every meal will start with one of those things.... oh and I guess there’s like some fish choices, but I hate fish. There’s also vegetarian options, which I have only occasionally gotten. So within the variety, there’s a lot of similarities.

Also there are a lot of same ingredients in their recipes. I have grated a lot of lemons and limes. I have chopped up a lot of carrots, green onions, and potatoes (so many potatoes.) I have consumed more sour cream than I ever have. I have started looking for ways to add even a little more variety to the things that are often-repeats that they give you.

But part of that is my fault -- I am mostly selecting items that I know I will like, or can modify to how I like. There are a lot of veggie and fish-based choices I could pick up most weeks which I avoid.

And almost everything I’ve ever made... I’d make again. I save all the recipe cards so that someday when I don’t wanna do HF anymore, I will have all them all handy to make later. The HF Subreddit also has a lot of resources like how to do their custom spice mixes, very handy. There’s been maybe 3 things I’ve made which I’d say were Just Okay, but nothing I’d say that was bad. And some of the ideas in this paragraph I talk about more, further down.

But also on the topic of “Variety” -- since every meal I make has two portions (occasionally I will stretch something to three) -- points are given back because I’m not “Making a huge pot of spaghetti that I eat for five meals in a row.” So that’s good, even if it means more cooking overall.

So honestly, on Something New overall, I’ll give this like a 3.5 out of 5 stars, correcting up to 4 stars on a curve, since I strike entire categories of their offerings based on my own tastes. They offer a pretty good variety of meals to select, and part of the problem here is my fault for hating All Seafood and not being thrilled with the vegetarian options (I also don’t feel like I’m getting my money’s worth without a protein) so there are a lot of meals re-using similar ingredients. It slides back down to a 3.5 though when you factor in Reasons 3 & 4 below.

Reason Two: Kill Analysis Paralysis

A thing I found increasingly happening by the end of last year was analysis paralysis. Especially as I started a new job where I’m much, much busier (but happier) in October. I would find myself staring at the fact that I’d have to make the decision on What To Make For Dinner and dreading it more and more. It wasn’t really the cooking I hated, but the deciding what to cook, which got me into the lack of variety rut. More often than I’d like to admit I’d just make a box of Kraft Mac & Cheese or like... just... toast... for dinner because the decision-making part of my brain was tired... or out of spoons as the kids say these days.

This is maybe my favorite part of Hello Fresh overall. Once every week or two I log onto HF, pick what I’m going to eat like... 5 or 6 weeks in the future, which I can do at a time when I have that decision-making energy, and forget about it. Every Monday a box shows up on my doorstep, I see what nice things I picked out for myself several weeks ago, and the most I have to decide is which order I will make those things in.

So when it’s a “Make Dinner” day, I don’t have that “shit, I have to make a decision” feeling. I already know because I pre-planned it back when I wasn’t at the end of a long workday. It’s one of those small, dumb things that really really helps me mentally in an almost inexplicable way. And I can feel better about myself because I didn’t eat something dumb for dinner. And I still allow myself to make easy things for lunch, like a small frozen pizza, a sandwich and some chips, or hey, Kraft Dinner. And sometimes I do make a big pot of Spaghetti or something that I love and will just have that for lunch every day for a week, and so I don’t have to feel like I’m always cooking.

And on Eat HF Leftovers For Dinner nights, that’s even better, because I have a tasty meal and it just had to get reheated in the microwave or stovetop. Some meals are easy to half-prepare ahead of time on day one, and just do the last steps on leftover night the next night to have fresher dinner easily.

Just 5 out of 5 stars here. This is my favorite part.

Reason Three: Eat More Vegetables.

Uh, yeah, I’m terrible about eating veggies on my own. The best I can do usually is buy a bag of mixed greens and try to have a side salad with dinner, or buy bags of frozen foods and hope they come with veggies I’d eat.

So the good thing here, is that when HF sends me vegetables to make, if it’s a veggie I like, I’ll probably make it.

The big problem, though, is that there’s no substitutions. And I’m still not gonna eat brussell sprouts or, broccoli, or mushrooms. I was a sport and tried making them (except the mushrooms) the first time I got recipes that used them as sides. And nope... still cant.

But hey, I have done a lot better at eating more fresh green beans, and onions, and carrots, and peppers. Though sometimes I just snack on the bell pepper instead of cooking it. Still, I call it a win.

I really, really wish I could trade out the side-dish vegetables I know I won’t eat for like, a small side salad, an apple, or hey, even just... carrots! But nope, no substitutions. =\ I’d score this way better if we could do so.

Still, I’m doing better here, and overall, more vegetables are being eaten. So, 3 out of 5 stars.

Reason Four: Waste Less Food

The amount of fruit and vegetables I’ve ordered and thrown away over the last year make me cringe. I would order things with every intention of eating them and then just... not. Oh yeah I need two lemons, an orange and two limes in case I make ____ recipe! I need a new bag of baby carrots to snack on and make a side dish and cut into a salad!

And then I maybe... maybe use half of that before it goes bad.

Probably less. Because of the Analysis Paralysis and not trying new things. You run into that problem where you don’t have the ingredients on hand to make a new thing so you can’t make a new thing... but then you buy them but forgot (crucial thing) so the thing still doesn’t get made. Or you just... don’t plan when you’re gonna make the thing and by the time I’d be like “Oh yeah I should make something with those vegetables” they’d have already turned.

SO... I felt shitty throwing away so much produce, and loaves of bread, and other perishable food that got maybe half-eaten. So much, for so long. Yeah, I know I could do better with my meal planning, but it’s been one of those things I always vow to do, and then did not do that thing.

Doing HF has really made me re-evaluate what I buy as groceries, and I have cut way down on ordering unnecessary produce and perishables like bread. Because I don’t really have to worry about dinner and am allowing myself to do easy lunches that don’t require real “cooking.” So, overall I am definitely buying and tossing less food.

Also just as another quick note -- what also tends to get tossed out of my HF boxes is a “spicy ingredient” But in some ways, this works in HF’s favor. I don’t really like spicy foods. A small amount of spice is OK but I’d rather just do without it in most things, sorry I’m that white girl. Most “Spicy” HF meals get spicy by a spice blend, a packet of sriracha / hot sauce, or a jalapeno which they want you to cut up and include. So whenever I see something that looks good but listed as “spicy”, I can check the ingredient list first and see what makes it spicy, If I think the thing still sounds good without the spicy part, I can order it. So yeah, I’ll toss spicy ingredients, but that is 100% my choice and it makes things better because it gives me more variety to order those meals and still make it to my own taste.

Oh, and occasionally, the produce is just bad when you get it or not long after. I haven’t had this problem often, mostly with ginger and garlic. I do evaluate which meal has the most perishables when I get my box on Mondays and make those first. Apparently you can call customer service if this happens for a small credit, but I just use pre-diced garlic or powdered ginger when this has happened to me.

So, this would be a 4.5 out of 5 except for... as discussed above... I end up tossing out HF vegetables on occasion I know I hate and won’t eat, and they won’t let me make substitutions.

But also... cooking for myself... when I make a big batch of something that lasts 4 - 6 portions... more often than I’d like to admit, the last portion or two would never get eaten. Sometimes I’d TELL myself I’d eat them in a week or so and freeze them only to throw it all away months later.

So let’s call this a 4 out of 5. Overall, significantly less food waste with HF.

Reason Five: Save Time

I thought that doing HF would mean less prep-work and less time in the kitchen, especially with their easy-to-follow recipes and pre-measured ingredients.

So in that way, yes, time is saved, and it so again takes that mental load off in a lot of ways of not having to make all those pesky decisions. The materials you’re working with and what you need to do are all Right There for you. It’s really, nice.

As a side note, like I said I’m a good cook, and I haven’t had any problems following along anything I’ve made, but there were a few things I think are more of a moderate skill level and could be a little challenging for newcomers. But then, I see people on the HF subreddit all the time saying they learned to cook with no skill and they find the recipes easy so... we’re good there.

However, Saving Time loses points for two big reasons:

First, I’m only making two portions of each meal. Which, ok... this is my decision. I could order four portions per meal. But then... hey that’s taking big points away on the “variety” front.

The Vegetable Chopping / prep work on a lot of the recipes often takes 10 - 20 minutes, depending on the number of fruits and veggies. So yay for meeting Goal #3 (more veggies) even if it is balanced out by Goal #5.

And unfortunately, most meals end up taking up more dishes than I’d like to clean up (usually at least a pan and baking sheet, sometimes also a pot. Plus knife, cutting board, tongs, stirring spoon, maybe a zester, etc.) So no time is saved on cleanup, either.

Mostly where time is saved is having to pick out recipes and making sure you have/buy all the ingredients. Not much is saved in the actual cooking.

I do, however, enjoy the time I spent cooking and the knowledge that I’m gonna make something good, so we’ll give it a bit back, there.

As a time saver, I’d give HF a 2.5 out of 5 stars.

Reason Six: Save Money

Y’all, Hello Fresh is expensive. Honestly the #1 reason I re-evaluate whether I want to keep going with it every few weeks is the cost. Even though I can afford it.

For basically six meals a week, I’m paying $63 for the food, plus $9 for the shipping.

Which means I’m paying $12 a meal. For food I make myself.

Not cheap. A luxury.

Where I don’t feel quite so bad about it is the fact that... for the most part, I am wasting a lot less food. Except, as mentioned, when I can’t swap out vegetables I hate for something I’d actually eat.

So that makes it irk me even more when I am throwing out vegetables I really hate, because they’re expensive vegetables.

Also that price tag is motivation to make and eat every meal.

Overall, my grocery bills have gone down... honestly pretty significantly. Because I’m not overbuying food! Now, they haven’t gone down enough to even out the cost for Hello Fresh... I’m still probably spending about 50% more overall for each dinner now than I was before.

This isn’t a cost savings. It’s an expense, but one I can afford. And part of writing out this post is to remind myself to decide when the experience is no longer worth the expense.

1 out of 5 stars.

Reason Seven: Eat Better

I would like to challenge myself to define “Better” because that’s all I wrote down when I made the list.

Healthier? Eeeehhhhhh.... maybe? But not much.

Hello Fresh does offer lighter choices, and sometimes I pick those because they look good and are filled with things I will eat!

But I’m just as likely to pick the most calor-ific things on the menu.

HF also adds a lot of Sour Cream to their recipes, and encourage you to salt and butter your food liberally. I try to cut down on some of this where I think it’s too much. But sometimes there’s not much to cut out and still have the meal you ordered.

But also I’m not eating any worse calorie-wise than I was before, probably. And overall I’m eating a lot more “real food” instead of “packaged food” and fast food than I was.... especially pre-pandemic. And again, I AM eating a lot more vegetables, so.... that’s... better?

If I define better as Tastier, yeah, I’m doing pretty good in that regard, haha.

So Better as in healthier: 2.5 of 5 stars.

Better as in tastier: 4 out of 5 stars.

Overall Scoring & Tips

Okay, overall that comes out to a 3.18 out of 5, which I’d round up to a 3.5... which is a pretty good score for how I feel about HF overall. My current plan is to keep doing it until I go back to working in the office again, and re-evaluate. For now, it works for me.

IF YOU WANT TO TRY IT, this is my referral link, you’ll get $70 off over a month’s worth of meals (so like, $20 or something off 3 boxes and $10 off the last one, something like that.

I also have four “Free box” codes to give out, PM me if you want one of those. I don’t think those are compatible with the $70 off link, but it might be a box of completely free food for you? I don’t know how it works, but this may be the better deal? PM me.

If you decide to go for it, here’s a few tips:

Every week or two, go in and choose your meals, don’t let HF choose for you unless you really don’t care.

Read the ingredient list and make sure there’s not too much stuff you don’t like coming in a meal.

The extras are pretty expensive and not really worth it.

Plan on each meal taking about 45 minutes to cook from start to finish including chopping vegetables. Another 10 - 20 with cleanup depending if you have to handwash dishes or not.

Look for ways to make the meal healthier, especially if it encourages you to add more butter and salt near the end. You probably do NOT need to do so.

Buy a decent pepper. I love McCormick’s Peppercorn Medley pepper grinder. Also sea salt grinder is my personal salt preference.

Add some of your own seasonings. I buy a jar of pre-diced garlic (yes yes I know the criticisms of the stuff but it’s easy) and throw in a half tablespoon or so of that into a lot of recipes. Also there are a lot of potatoes that they want you to just cook with olive oil, salt and pepper. Throw some garlic or onion salt on them, or some Lawry’s Seasoning Salt or steak salt of your choice for some variety.

Your basic 2 quart pot, 8 - 12″ frying pan and cookie sheet, plus a cutting board, decent veggie knife, and typical kitchen utensil set are all you need. However, a decent meat thermometer and a zester that collects the zest as you go are both highly recommended.

A sieve and very small rice cooker have also been a lifesaver for making good rice that doesn’t get overcooked.

#personal post tag thingy #hello fresh #food #meal kit #meal kits

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bisexualhobi · 3 years

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wait I think I agree not today is really bad but now rank all their title tracks from best to worst pls

lmaoohdksjjdjf i love this question so much anon but due to the fact that i’m me this would get way WAY too long. so i’m doing the top 5 best title tracks and then top 5 worst ones okay? i’m looking at google and apparently they have 26 korean singles so yeah that’s too much.

to rank them as objectively as possible I'm gonna try to take into account gp impact (which is not the same as chart impact since the fandom inflates those numbers), production, creative value (how innovative/different from other pop songs was it?) and the concept of the music video/aesthetic in general.

BTS TITLE TRACKS: TOP 5

5. Black Swan (2020)

am I cheating by putting here a pre release single? maybe. but it would be a disservice to leave this one out so bear with me

⭐gp impact: this song made more noise as a pre release single than the title track. I saw it in at least 3 end of the year editorials for best kpop songs of 2020. and the thing is it could have been WAY bigger but a lot of stuff happened that sadly made it go away too soon. I don't think this one is as famous or recognizable as the others in this list which is why it's going last, but also I think this song is the most underrated gem in bts discography so it's still going here.

⭐production: this song beat out the front runners (I need u, save me, DNA) solely because of its production. there are not a lot of kpop songs out there that manage to pull off what this song does. it's powerful, it's nostalgic, it's a dark and sexy song without being too on the nose. the mixing is SUPERB I remember the first time I heard it I thought "this would blow the fuck up if it was a Travis Scott song" and I will DIE on that hill. this is an example of heavy autotune on a song done right, not like the rest of their super autotuned songs that sometimes come out unrecognizable and empty sounding.

⭐creative value: it's not truly a new concept in pop to make a song about the Death of the Artist. it’s also not something a rookie group can do, this song needed to be released at exactly the time in bts’ career that it was. there’s just no emotional impact if you just sing about how the music makes your hear beat and you’ve been in the industry for,,, 3 years. this is the type of Swan Song you release at the peak of your career, so that really contributes to the message. mixing a trap beat with a ballet motif is GALAXY BRAIN SHIT.

⭐️concept: the ballet influence is just beautifully executed, this song is a beautiful piece of craftsmanship on all fronts. i think they could literally build an entire ALBUM off this concept, so the fact that they jampacked it onto one single song is both amazing and a little sad for me. i wanna hear more of this. i want a literal Black Swan (the darren aranofsky movie) horror concept where the protagonist falls prey to his own madness because he strives for perfection. but yeah, the song itself and the orchestral version just make this a complete golden concept in my book.

4. IDOL (2018).

⭐️gp impact: i think a lot of people that didn’t know anything about kpop vaguely knew about this song when it was released. i know i wasn’t into kpop at all but in my pop culture circle there was a small bleep from this song bc of the concept and the dance. i think it’s a great “embassador of kpop” track, like if you wanna explain to someone with no previous knowledge what kpop is about you can show them a performance of this song.

⭐️production: the production is a little all over the place for me. the instrumentals are amazing and really creative tho, but like in terms of mixing vocals and the structure of it, it might be a little too grating. it’s not the best produced song in ly: answer by any means but it still makes it work

⭐️creative value: the whole hanbok thing is a 10/10. bts weren’t the first ones to do it, but they did it in such a tightly executed way that honestly that “classic korean roots meets the edgy western feel” concept belongs to them now. groups are still recreating it. it’s a really innovative concept in general.

⭐️concept: the music video is,,,, something. you might love it or hate it, but it’s memorable. i think the purposeful way in which they made it as loud and brilliant as possible can be taken either as a camp adjacent or just as the group going nuts with the budget, which props to them. the choreography is also a BIG plus. the south african influence is really well executed and they made sure to do it as cultural appreciation and not appropriation. definitely the most memorable thing from this song is the choreo

3. Run (2015).

⭐️gp impact: this was their second song to have a music show win. it was the lead single from hyyh pt2 and honestly it might be the best song off hyyh as a whole. it cemented bts as not just another kpop group, because it made non fans turn their heads too! from what i gather this really propelled them forward and made the fanbase grow a lot.

⭐️production: hyyh pt2 is super well produced. i feel like this song in particular makes a fine job of mixing the vocals but it’s not outstanding. the best part is the instrumentals. but overall it’s a really good song with amazing lyrics and a great melody.

⭐️creative value: this built off of what they did with pt1 so they were already in a comfortable place, when they found this sound they really explored it well and deep and it works! i’m glad they went this emo pop route because it was a good contrast to what was dominating the charts in kpop in 2015.

⭐️concept: the aesthetic is PERFECT. there’s not a single other thing that i could add or that i wanted gone. it’s the perfect mix of coming of age teen film and heartfelt, dreamy pop. the music video is by no surprises the favorite mv of a lot of the fandom. the cinematography is beautiful and the song and the video perfectly capture that fleeting moment in life when you’re in the brink of adulthood.

2. Mic Drop (2017).

⭐️gp impact: this song was the first bts song to chart on the billboard hot100. back when the fandom had no idea how to chart, mass buy etc. that’s enough said. (personally i think mic drop is the quintessential bts song and their best release so the fact that i’m not putting it first should count as something).

⭐️production: for the purposes of this ranking i’m using the original mic drop and not the steve aoki remix even tho it was the steve remix that was released as the single. the song has the BEST mastering i’ve heard in kpop. the transitions are flawless, the beat is pure fire, the entire first minute is literally the hardest hype rap i’ve heard in kpop. everything about it WORKS.

⭐️creative value: it’s kinda funny how this song got released the same year as kendrick lamar’s humble, because imho it’s the best hiphop song of that year after humble. 2017 was truly the year of the diss tracks. bonus points for including it right after the billboard acceptance speech skit in ly: answer. SUPER refreshing among the ed sheeran type of pop that dominated that year.

⭐️concept: it’s a great concept but not innovative by any means. still, it works and bts managed to exploit it to the max. the choreo, the mv, the styling, everything was amazing!

1. Blood, Sweat & Tears (2016).

⭐️gp impact: it's probably the first song to put bts on the map beyond the kpop sphere. it really set the tone for their 2017. it's one of their most famous and recognizable songs to date.

⭐️production: this song is STUNNINGLY arranged. the mix, the ambience, the progression,,, it's all brought together to make a very well crafted song. it has a distinctive electronic/pop sound to it that still manages to set itself apart from the trend that was going at the time. black swan is probably the closet single they have to this in terms of production.

⭐️creative value: the song itself is very in compliance with the 2015/2016 trend of hype songs with edm influence, (ie. closer, shape of you, cheap thrills, let me love you, something just like this, etc.) but it still packs that punch that makes it sound fresh even for 2021.

⭐️concept: it wasn't the first song to sound like this in kpop ofc but it was the first truly sexy concept for bts. the aesthetic is innovative and very well thought out, the mv is amazing and the choreography too. i read somewhere that j-hope had a lot of input for this choreo so that's amazing. also blond taehyung is literally the best thing to come out of big hit.

WORST BTS TITLE TRACKS

ok so here we go with the worst ones! this is in ascending order as i prepare myself to pick the worst of them all, but please remember this isn’t meant to be mean spirited, i am simply applying the same criteria to their most underwhelming songs but that doesn’t mean they don’t have their own merit! it’s just that out of 26 singles, SOME of them have got to come out at the bottom right?

5. Life Goes On (2020)

⭐gp impact: this song is not memorable with the general public, its #1 on the bb was the product of mass buying and even though it's a feel good song made to comfort fans in the times of pandemic it's still bland and boring. I think it had no music show appearances either, and as far as bts ballads go this is just bottom tier. it’s not that it’s terrible, it’s just very underwhelming

⭐production: the autotune in this song is very poorly executed, it doesn't add to the song the way black swan does for example. it's just off putting and the melody is really forgettable. it's funny bc the chorus is directly pulled from the 2018 reggaeton super hit "La Canción" by J Balvin and Bad bunny lmaooo 💀 so I can't get that out of my head either. the structure is just fine and has nothing of substance

⭐creative value: the song is attempts to be a heartfelt acoustic song but it really has nothing that sets it apart from other songs product of the pandemic like Justin and ariana's stuck with u. for a song in a self produced album it's the song with the least input from the group. the lyrics are good, but they're not as sincere or groundbreaking as for example Spring day.

⭐concept: as a ballad ofc I'm not expecting it to have a grand choreography, and the mv being filmed in their personal dorms to reflect the lockdown is actually a nice touch but besides that there is nothing exciting, innovative or even sincerely comforting about the song and the concept. the greatest thing abt it is the fact that jk directed the video, which is actually pretty good.

4. We are bulletproof pt 2 (2013)

⭐gp impact: this song made no noise back in the day and to this day its just beloved by the fandom due to a sense of nostalgia and "remembering bts' roots". don't get me wrong it's amazing that bts still perform it in the year of our lord 2020 because you can't forget where you came from, but it's not a good or memorable song by any means.

⭐production: I went back to listen to it for this and oh god. I can't remember the mixing being THIS bad. jimin, jin and taehyung sound exceptionally bad, they don't sound like themselves especially jin. it's just a really poorly mastered song, but then again the rest of their debut album isn't far better.

⭐creative value: this is straight up ripping off early 2000s black culture from the US. not only the music, the styling for this era in general is unfortunately really bad and culturally appropriating and overall it's a mess.

⭐concept: there is nothing of substance to be said about this song. it's just really a miss. the mv is terrible, the only thing that can be salvaged from this is the choreography, but besides that the whole thing feels sloppy, rushed and is also kinda cringey.

3. N.O. (2013)

⭐gp impact: no noise. this song was just a really weird pick for their first comeback when attack on bangtan or coffee was right there. not to be mean but no wonder they didn't have a music win this year.

⭐production: it's an objectively bad song. it's just really underwhelming, the whole mixing feels amateur. it's not a good hiphop song and it's not a good vocal arrangement and the chorus is also a rip off of a late 90s American song I can't find right now

⭐creative value: this song isn't innovative in any way, it's just..... there. very meh in general, I have nothing more to say about it

⭐concept: the storyline kinda wants to go somewhere with the music video but it doesn't manage to make a connection. the styling is plain, simple and not flattering at all. it tries to make a protest of the Korean school system but it doesn't say anything beyond "school bad" which we already knew

2. Not Today (2017)

⭐gp impact: its a very middle of the list song for a lot of the fandom. I literally know of no one that claims this as their favorite mv/era/song. when you ask people about their least favorite bts songs they won't mention this one either, you know why? because it's that irrelevant. it had no music show wins either. it's precisely because of this why I put it so high up on the list. there's nothing worse than an unmemorable song, if it was widely hated then at least that would be a response.

⭐production: it's a really mediocre song in terms of structure and melody. it tried to be hype but it falls short. the chorus feels half finished and the message of the song is just “the revolution has begun”? which okay? but it adds nothing to the You never walk alone album either.

⭐creative value: there is nothing exciting about this song, and the chorus is too grating. the rhythm is repetitive and nothing new either in kpop or pop in general.

⭐concept: sadly there's not a lot to be said for the song. it says nothing of value and what it says falls flat. there's no innovation. you can actually see a lot of idol in this song, and also ON. those two songs are what this one tried to be but failed.

1. War of Hormone (2014)

⭐gp impact: thankfully none. this song got the treatment it deserved, if they had won a music show for this one it would feel tainted lol. now it's just a meme in the fandom but overall it made zero noise and contributed nothing to bts' evolution

⭐production: the production is very lazy, which is odd because dark & wild has some pretty tight tracks. but this one is just meh, nothing outstanding and the melody is just annoying

⭐creative value: this is a song that was probably born out of the desperation to have a gp friendly hit. it tries really hard to replicate an outdated idea of what boy bands should be, and it does it badly. simply put this song is very mediocre and misogynistic and the fact that it's a running gag in the fandom that "feminism isn't important when war of hormone comes on" isn't funny and it's actually cringe. please stop

⭐concept: the styling is so ugly :( the mv is very low budget which isn't surprising but they managed to make more with less in past releases. it's just embarrassing and I wish this song didn't exist, there's a reason why they never play it anymore lol. overall a dark mistake in bts' career

#asks #long post//#song analysis #bts

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