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- Sep 9, 2015
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- ʙᴀ ᴅᴜᴍ 𝙩𝙨𝙨
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OP
OP
- Joined
- Sep 9, 2015
- Location
- ʙᴀ ᴅᴜᴍ 𝙩𝙨𝙨
⦊ ωᴀᴛᴇʀ ⦉
It was not possible to talk about the Frostfalls without first talking about great-great-great-grandpaw Logan Frostfall. A real upstanding feller, tall, broad-shouldered and bushy tailed. To alleviate the financial concerns of his family, he enlisted in the marine corps as soon as he turned seventeen, in the midst of the American-Spanish War. And from there, he toured the Philippines, the Boxer Rebellion, several Central American conflicts, World War I… In short, his uniform was chock-full of medals and insignias by the time the wulfenkin retired at the ripe old age of sixty-two, having pulled himself up by his bootstraps all the way from being a private to four-star generalship.
From that point onwards, the Frostfalls considered themselves a proud military family. Nearly every cub of every generation followed in Logan Frostfall’s pawprints, dutifully climbing the ranks in service of his or her country. And, almost without fail, every single one of them sported an eye-catching frosted mane, every shade from lustrous platinum to the hoary pale moon.
But of course, in every well-regarded family, the emergence of a black sheep was an inevitability. Or, in this case, a black-furred wolf. Amaya Frostfall had pretty much nothing in common with her three older brothers beyond being blessed in the height department and sharing the same surname. A constant thorn in her father’s side and the source of her mother’s worried sighs, she barely avoided being shipped off to military school by virtue of her father not wanting any potential blemishes on the Frostfall name. Which was to say, as soon as an opportunity to study abroad presented itself, she leapt at it faster than the proverbial child could cry wolf.
Settling in took time, but having a Korean-speaking best friend made the otherwise daunting transition far more manageable. It helped that Amaya had been sort of practicing Korean since age six, when she realized that a spirited ‘annyeong haseyo’ accompanied by a beaming grin got their new neighbor to reward her with a world of delicious treats whose names she only learned after wolfing them down. She realized later that Mrs. Soo was probably just trying to give her daughter a leg up in acclimating to Washington, but by then Amaya and Hwayoung were already inseparable.
Besides, Amaya learned quickly the advantages of a foreign dialect when she did not want her own family to know what she and Hwayoung were gossiping about. All of that said, her Korean could not be considered good by any stretch of the imagination. But Amaya had always been a quick study (when she could be bothered) and a whole semester of cramming paid dividends. Her rather noticeable accent made it obvious that she was no native speaker, but that just helped sell her whole new-in-town shtick. Because here, in the heart of Seoul, a whole sixteen hours away from her former home in Washington, Amaya was doing that thing everyone born of overly controlling parents had a tendency to do. Going buck wild, that is.
“Nang Seunghyu sunbae-nim invited me to a party tonight. Starts at 9. So, 10, I’m assuming.” Her pointy ears, sable fading into salt-and-pepper on the interior, might have perked if they weren’t currently mostly smooshed against Hwayoung’s lap. A/k/a Amaya’s favorite pillow. Since as far back as memory serves, Amaya had been the physically affectionate sort, by nature, or perhaps a result of being the youngest to three brothers fond of roughhousing.
Contrary to the military precision the rest of her family carried themselves with, Amaya conducted herself with almost anything but. Most commonly found leaning against a wall or draping herself over Hwayoung’s shoulders, she was easily mistakable for a koala if not for her obvious wulfenkin features. “Supposedly Tae Minhee hoobae is going too.” She had always had a certain reputation back at home, and a change of locale did the opposite of canceling out her notoriety. After just one semester abroad, a clear pattern emerged. Parties, alcohol, girls, girls, and girls. Whether Amaya thought about much of anything else these days were up for debate.
Well, other than photography, her field of study and the crux of her unending friction with her parents. It started out as a curiosity, turned into a flourishing enthusiasm, and when her parents tried to put their foot down, dry timber and kindling for the flame of her unending rebellion. Photography was like language without words; it was expression, narrative captured through optical lenses. Amaya loved it, was good at it too. And besides, flattering portraits went a long way impressing the latest tail she was chasing. Annnd it’s back to girls again.
“It’s open to all the students. You should come with me.” She reached up, twirling a strand of snow fading into lilac. A shade that, at its palest, was so, so close to the famous Frostfall mane, which normally might have inspired an automatic aversion in her, but Amaya could not say that she disliked that look on Hwayoung. Actually, it was fairer to say that her bestest gal pal and childhood friend was just objectively the most spectacular anything to walk the earth, or to swim it - the earth was mostly made of water anyway.
From that point onwards, the Frostfalls considered themselves a proud military family. Nearly every cub of every generation followed in Logan Frostfall’s pawprints, dutifully climbing the ranks in service of his or her country. And, almost without fail, every single one of them sported an eye-catching frosted mane, every shade from lustrous platinum to the hoary pale moon.
But of course, in every well-regarded family, the emergence of a black sheep was an inevitability. Or, in this case, a black-furred wolf. Amaya Frostfall had pretty much nothing in common with her three older brothers beyond being blessed in the height department and sharing the same surname. A constant thorn in her father’s side and the source of her mother’s worried sighs, she barely avoided being shipped off to military school by virtue of her father not wanting any potential blemishes on the Frostfall name. Which was to say, as soon as an opportunity to study abroad presented itself, she leapt at it faster than the proverbial child could cry wolf.
Settling in took time, but having a Korean-speaking best friend made the otherwise daunting transition far more manageable. It helped that Amaya had been sort of practicing Korean since age six, when she realized that a spirited ‘annyeong haseyo’ accompanied by a beaming grin got their new neighbor to reward her with a world of delicious treats whose names she only learned after wolfing them down. She realized later that Mrs. Soo was probably just trying to give her daughter a leg up in acclimating to Washington, but by then Amaya and Hwayoung were already inseparable.
Besides, Amaya learned quickly the advantages of a foreign dialect when she did not want her own family to know what she and Hwayoung were gossiping about. All of that said, her Korean could not be considered good by any stretch of the imagination. But Amaya had always been a quick study (when she could be bothered) and a whole semester of cramming paid dividends. Her rather noticeable accent made it obvious that she was no native speaker, but that just helped sell her whole new-in-town shtick. Because here, in the heart of Seoul, a whole sixteen hours away from her former home in Washington, Amaya was doing that thing everyone born of overly controlling parents had a tendency to do. Going buck wild, that is.
“Nang Seunghyu sunbae-nim invited me to a party tonight. Starts at 9. So, 10, I’m assuming.” Her pointy ears, sable fading into salt-and-pepper on the interior, might have perked if they weren’t currently mostly smooshed against Hwayoung’s lap. A/k/a Amaya’s favorite pillow. Since as far back as memory serves, Amaya had been the physically affectionate sort, by nature, or perhaps a result of being the youngest to three brothers fond of roughhousing.
Contrary to the military precision the rest of her family carried themselves with, Amaya conducted herself with almost anything but. Most commonly found leaning against a wall or draping herself over Hwayoung’s shoulders, she was easily mistakable for a koala if not for her obvious wulfenkin features. “Supposedly Tae Minhee hoobae is going too.” She had always had a certain reputation back at home, and a change of locale did the opposite of canceling out her notoriety. After just one semester abroad, a clear pattern emerged. Parties, alcohol, girls, girls, and girls. Whether Amaya thought about much of anything else these days were up for debate.
Well, other than photography, her field of study and the crux of her unending friction with her parents. It started out as a curiosity, turned into a flourishing enthusiasm, and when her parents tried to put their foot down, dry timber and kindling for the flame of her unending rebellion. Photography was like language without words; it was expression, narrative captured through optical lenses. Amaya loved it, was good at it too. And besides, flattering portraits went a long way impressing the latest tail she was chasing. Annnd it’s back to girls again.
“It’s open to all the students. You should come with me.” She reached up, twirling a strand of snow fading into lilac. A shade that, at its palest, was so, so close to the famous Frostfall mane, which normally might have inspired an automatic aversion in her, but Amaya could not say that she disliked that look on Hwayoung. Actually, it was fairer to say that her bestest gal pal and childhood friend was just objectively the most spectacular anything to walk the earth, or to swim it - the earth was mostly made of water anyway.
“Come on, good time aside, you might meet someone, eh?"
Last edited:
sorayeon
waiting for your smoke signal
- Joined
- Jun 18, 2021
- Location
- the clouds
so i pour another shot,
and i pretend that it's your lips -
chase down another round
until i taste your whiskey kiss -
tomorrow tonight, Loote
and i pretend that it's your lips -
chase down another round
until i taste your whiskey kiss -
tomorrow tonight, Loote
Geomun-do was a graveyard, historically speaking. It stood to reason that officials wouldn't even sneeze in its direction, and so the entire aquatic population of the Jeju Strait went unchecked for years and years, and even more years after the wars. Merfolk, sirens, undine, and similar water spirits chopped up the surrounding oceans for territory. But when landwalkers came with their puttering, smoggy boats and plastic straws, many had no choice but to swim for clearer waters or overcome and adapt. Her ancestors took to the land on two wobbly but working legs and feet and wrapped mufflers around their gills.
This was why Hwayoung could not boast the same illustrious lineage. Despite her heritage being constantly fetishized in folklore centuries back, looking through the census for SOO; aquatic, spirit would come up blank. This was not due to any sort of failure by the goemul division of the government, it was simply because being any sort of merfolk adjacent meant blank records and conveniently misplaced papers. It meant having to fight tooth and nail for citizenship because for some bizarre reason, the ability to thrive underwater prohibited any sort of land housing or assistance.
This was the unfortunate repercussion of blending in as humanfolk while retaining the typically abnormal eyes and finned ears, and was also the cause of the Soo family calling it quits and relocating themselves to the more welcoming bosom of Washington. Welcoming in that apparently the government there offered great packages to pad their monster population, even better to have merfolk or selkies - something about introducing biodiversity into the neighborhood, which was just code for 'we expect a 205% increase in ocean tours for the next decade'.
So legally, they were in a bit of a grey area.
When ocean tours did not increase by 205%, or even by 120%, they suddenly weren't as welcome. There was push back. So, so tired of fighting, they found themselves moving once again back to sunny Seoul and Hwayoung was very sad, because she had learned English! She'd made friends, and a best friend too! Amaya was one of the funniest landwalkers she'd have the pleasure of meeting and greeting, and having to move away at the tenderhearted age of sixteen played with her hormonal teenage emotions like a fiddle. She pleaded and bargained with her parents, she'd run away from home and spent 24 hours in the local swimming pool.
"Seunghyu ssi has been trying to get in with the bad crowd," Hwayoung said, all pleasant smiles as she fiddled with Amaya's ears. She liked the way the velvet interior felt on her fingers, liked seeing the way they flicked all on their own when she brushed against the pointy Dorito tips. Surely Amaya didn't mind. "You have a reputation, unnie. You're fresh meat running amok." Their reunion had been a dramatic affair, despite keeping in touch for the last few years, Hwayoung was glad to know that her fondness for the wulfenkin had not diminished. Even her family had been surprised.
"How do you know all these people? Did you take a look at the dorm roster on your first day?"
Their first few nights in their shared room had been.. strange. Not strange in a bad way, but strange in how Hwayoung wanted to ask if Amaya remembered when they were ten, how they accidentally ate too many sweets after midnight and found melted bits in their hair come the morning. It was strange how Hwayoung could open her eyes, turn her head to the side and see her best friend's silhouette which was so familiar yet not. It was a telling thing when Hwayoung didn't bat either eye when Amaya revealed herself as a bonafide Casanova. It was par for the course. All the signs were there.
She was still the same too. Smatterings of 'freckles' decorated her pale skin, glittering like rainbow scales that were more form than function. Her ears she'd gotten from her father, fanned and finned, they were a translucent peach. Her eyes were a little more unusual. They were the usual golden hue found in most of the aquatic population, but one eye was.. not right. Rather than the usual white, her left eye looked like the victim of an oil spill. Her parents called it a birth mark.
Hwayoung liked that better than birth defect, but at least it was something to bond over, their marked differences.
"I have classes," she replied unconvincingly, squishing her palms against Amaya's cheeks. Hwayoung was typical, pursuing a career in marine biology. It was almost funny. She cast a look at the fan of papers on her desk and spied a mechanical pencil on the floor. Sighed. They were cozied up on Hwayoung's bed, her slender legs tucked underneath her while her friend claimed ownership of her lap. Amaya hadn't been shy. Maybe she'll send a postcard framing her thighs next time and sign 'welcome home'. Maybe not, that was a bit much.
But Amaya had a point. She could meet someone. She could also go to class on time and not be nursing a hangover, and more importantly, do GGU* proud. But, she could be sober and holding someone's hair back gently over a bowl. She could be shadowing Amaya and blink obnoxiously at Seunghyu ssi, because being blinked at by two different colored sclera was straight up unnerving and maybe, just maybe, Hwayoung could be the one waking up in a stranger's bed, groggy and excited. There was nothing less attractive than dreaming about marine ecotoxicology and fish reproduction in aquaculture and then opening your eyes to an empty room.
This was why Hwayoung could not boast the same illustrious lineage. Despite her heritage being constantly fetishized in folklore centuries back, looking through the census for SOO; aquatic, spirit would come up blank. This was not due to any sort of failure by the goemul division of the government, it was simply because being any sort of merfolk adjacent meant blank records and conveniently misplaced papers. It meant having to fight tooth and nail for citizenship because for some bizarre reason, the ability to thrive underwater prohibited any sort of land housing or assistance.
This was the unfortunate repercussion of blending in as humanfolk while retaining the typically abnormal eyes and finned ears, and was also the cause of the Soo family calling it quits and relocating themselves to the more welcoming bosom of Washington. Welcoming in that apparently the government there offered great packages to pad their monster population, even better to have merfolk or selkies - something about introducing biodiversity into the neighborhood, which was just code for 'we expect a 205% increase in ocean tours for the next decade'.
So legally, they were in a bit of a grey area.
When ocean tours did not increase by 205%, or even by 120%, they suddenly weren't as welcome. There was push back. So, so tired of fighting, they found themselves moving once again back to sunny Seoul and Hwayoung was very sad, because she had learned English! She'd made friends, and a best friend too! Amaya was one of the funniest landwalkers she'd have the pleasure of meeting and greeting, and having to move away at the tenderhearted age of sixteen played with her hormonal teenage emotions like a fiddle. She pleaded and bargained with her parents, she'd run away from home and spent 24 hours in the local swimming pool.
24 hours after that, she was sitting on a plane. Her hair still smelled like chlorine.
"Seunghyu ssi has been trying to get in with the bad crowd," Hwayoung said, all pleasant smiles as she fiddled with Amaya's ears. She liked the way the velvet interior felt on her fingers, liked seeing the way they flicked all on their own when she brushed against the pointy Dorito tips. Surely Amaya didn't mind. "You have a reputation, unnie. You're fresh meat running amok." Their reunion had been a dramatic affair, despite keeping in touch for the last few years, Hwayoung was glad to know that her fondness for the wulfenkin had not diminished. Even her family had been surprised.
"How do you know all these people? Did you take a look at the dorm roster on your first day?"
Their first few nights in their shared room had been.. strange. Not strange in a bad way, but strange in how Hwayoung wanted to ask if Amaya remembered when they were ten, how they accidentally ate too many sweets after midnight and found melted bits in their hair come the morning. It was strange how Hwayoung could open her eyes, turn her head to the side and see her best friend's silhouette which was so familiar yet not. It was a telling thing when Hwayoung didn't bat either eye when Amaya revealed herself as a bonafide Casanova. It was par for the course. All the signs were there.
Hwayoung gave her blessing; it wasn't asked for.
She was still the same too. Smatterings of 'freckles' decorated her pale skin, glittering like rainbow scales that were more form than function. Her ears she'd gotten from her father, fanned and finned, they were a translucent peach. Her eyes were a little more unusual. They were the usual golden hue found in most of the aquatic population, but one eye was.. not right. Rather than the usual white, her left eye looked like the victim of an oil spill. Her parents called it a birth mark.
Hwayoung liked that better than birth defect, but at least it was something to bond over, their marked differences.
"I have classes," she replied unconvincingly, squishing her palms against Amaya's cheeks. Hwayoung was typical, pursuing a career in marine biology. It was almost funny. She cast a look at the fan of papers on her desk and spied a mechanical pencil on the floor. Sighed. They were cozied up on Hwayoung's bed, her slender legs tucked underneath her while her friend claimed ownership of her lap. Amaya hadn't been shy. Maybe she'll send a postcard framing her thighs next time and sign 'welcome home'. Maybe not, that was a bit much.
But Amaya had a point. She could meet someone. She could also go to class on time and not be nursing a hangover, and more importantly, do GGU* proud. But, she could be sober and holding someone's hair back gently over a bowl. She could be shadowing Amaya and blink obnoxiously at Seunghyu ssi, because being blinked at by two different colored sclera was straight up unnerving and maybe, just maybe, Hwayoung could be the one waking up in a stranger's bed, groggy and excited. There was nothing less attractive than dreaming about marine ecotoxicology and fish reproduction in aquaculture and then opening your eyes to an empty room.
"Okay. But we're leaving at 12. On the dot."
Yeah, right.
Yeah, right.
* Gwangsong-Goemul University.
daf7a6 x 8ff4d9
Last edited:
OP
OP
- Joined
- Sep 9, 2015
- Location
- ʙᴀ ᴅᴜᴍ 𝙩𝙨𝙨
⦊ ωᴀᴛᴇʀ ⦉
Much like their owner, those black-gray ears demonstrated an endless supply of energy. Whether Amaya was awake or asleep, they always radared this way and that at the tiniest fraction of a sound. The exterior was sleek and silky, blending into the black ink of her hair. The interior, on the other hand, was decidedly softer, wispy, even. The fur was so fine that the sensation of brushing over the same would barely register against the pads of fingers. Of course, that was no longer the case when someone flattened said fur against the velour of the inner lining. Her ears folded back, attempting to escape from the concentrated attention to no avail. Oh well. Amaya chalked it up as a necessary sacrifice, like purchasing tickets to those plush thighs she claimed as her lounging place.
“I have my ways,” she grinned up at Hwayoung, intentionally mysterious. Because having a ‘reputation’ suited Amaya just fine. She knew what she wanted, and more importantly, what she didn’t want. It certainly helped if her latest sweetheart(s) knew what they were signing up for as well, because ‘commitment’ was just about the only word Amaya disliked more than ‘responsibility’. Surprisingly enough, she wasn’t a bad roommate. Haven’t done the sock on door handle thing, at least. And, despite definitely being guilty of shedding articles of clothing all over the place, she cleaned up after herself and didn’t make a ruckus during quiet hours. Then again, she only spent about half of her nights in her own bed. That, or snuck in during ungodly hours. Thus far, Amaya never brought a girl (or boy; she had her preferences but beer goggles were powerful) home though, not even once. Whether out of respect for Hwayoung, who actually did that thing called studying - the horror - or because their shared dorm was her sanctuary away from all the drama and hormones, it was hard to say.
Rolling her eyes at the response, Amaya uprighted herself with a powerful flex of her core. Bolted upright, practically going boing from the momentum of the launch, before landing at the foot of the bed with the grace of a gymnast. Never did gymnastics, but one could never underestimate the effects of crawling beneath nets, climbing over walls, and jumping through holes countless times. Oh, and with push-ups and pull-ups before and after as well as a one point five mile run, because her parents wanted to raise perfect little military robots in place of pups. Boy was she glad that she escaped that hellhole. “Didn’t know that you liked Disney enough to want to roleplay Cinderella but hey, all the more power to ya.” She threw a saucy wink over a shoulder, tousled her hair, and walked over to her own bed.
Shrugging off the ratty but comfortable t-shirt onto the bed, she knelt down in nothing but a black bra. The kind that had a logo strip running beneath the bust all the way around in bold white block font. This one said “ᴀᴡᴏᴏᴏ”, over and over again, because her sense of humor was terrible and spectacular at the same time. Besides, most people were too busy staring at the way her pronounced trapezii squeezed and dimpled to pay attention to the awful pun. That, or the very soft, very fluffy, very noticeable black tail swishing too and fro. Pulling out a storage drawer that comprised part of the bed frame, she shifted through neatly rolled burritos of shirts and tank tops. Ranger roll was so drilled into her at this point that Amaya wasn’t sure that she was capable of folding clothing any other way, and besides, it just worked so damn well in cramped quarters.
The incredible lack of space in Seoul was something she was still getting used to. Bellevue was definitely not small, being one of Seattle’s larger satellite cities, but Seoul was something else. Land was so precious that not only were structures built tall and skinny, every room was optimized for efficiency. Everything served at least two functions; the bed doubled as a closet, and the desk as a bookshelf. The squished interior honestly made her a little claustrophobic, contributing to her inclination to spend as little time inside her dorm room as possible.
“This, or this, what do you think?” She stood, turning around and holding two tops up against herself. Definitely not shy was an understatement. After all, what was there to be shy about when she looked like she stepped out of a commercial for sports bras. Besides, Hwayoung was her best friend from childhood! They sent each other postcards! It didn’t take a genius to look at Amaya and figure out that she wasn’t a postcard sort of girl.
As for the apparels at hand, the former was a black crop top with long sleeves, the clasp at the neck existing solely to create that infamous teardrop boob window. The latter was a more standard halter top, with a deep enough v that a keyhole would serve no purpose. Neither appeared long enough to cover more than the top half of her stomach, because as far as Amaya was concerned, boobs + abs + windswept hair was a surefire recipe for getting some. And, short of that, for new insta follows that would lead to the aforementioned getting some later.
“I have my ways,” she grinned up at Hwayoung, intentionally mysterious. Because having a ‘reputation’ suited Amaya just fine. She knew what she wanted, and more importantly, what she didn’t want. It certainly helped if her latest sweetheart(s) knew what they were signing up for as well, because ‘commitment’ was just about the only word Amaya disliked more than ‘responsibility’. Surprisingly enough, she wasn’t a bad roommate. Haven’t done the sock on door handle thing, at least. And, despite definitely being guilty of shedding articles of clothing all over the place, she cleaned up after herself and didn’t make a ruckus during quiet hours. Then again, she only spent about half of her nights in her own bed. That, or snuck in during ungodly hours. Thus far, Amaya never brought a girl (or boy; she had her preferences but beer goggles were powerful) home though, not even once. Whether out of respect for Hwayoung, who actually did that thing called studying - the horror - or because their shared dorm was her sanctuary away from all the drama and hormones, it was hard to say.
Rolling her eyes at the response, Amaya uprighted herself with a powerful flex of her core. Bolted upright, practically going boing from the momentum of the launch, before landing at the foot of the bed with the grace of a gymnast. Never did gymnastics, but one could never underestimate the effects of crawling beneath nets, climbing over walls, and jumping through holes countless times. Oh, and with push-ups and pull-ups before and after as well as a one point five mile run, because her parents wanted to raise perfect little military robots in place of pups. Boy was she glad that she escaped that hellhole. “Didn’t know that you liked Disney enough to want to roleplay Cinderella but hey, all the more power to ya.” She threw a saucy wink over a shoulder, tousled her hair, and walked over to her own bed.
Shrugging off the ratty but comfortable t-shirt onto the bed, she knelt down in nothing but a black bra. The kind that had a logo strip running beneath the bust all the way around in bold white block font. This one said “ᴀᴡᴏᴏᴏ”, over and over again, because her sense of humor was terrible and spectacular at the same time. Besides, most people were too busy staring at the way her pronounced trapezii squeezed and dimpled to pay attention to the awful pun. That, or the very soft, very fluffy, very noticeable black tail swishing too and fro. Pulling out a storage drawer that comprised part of the bed frame, she shifted through neatly rolled burritos of shirts and tank tops. Ranger roll was so drilled into her at this point that Amaya wasn’t sure that she was capable of folding clothing any other way, and besides, it just worked so damn well in cramped quarters.
The incredible lack of space in Seoul was something she was still getting used to. Bellevue was definitely not small, being one of Seattle’s larger satellite cities, but Seoul was something else. Land was so precious that not only were structures built tall and skinny, every room was optimized for efficiency. Everything served at least two functions; the bed doubled as a closet, and the desk as a bookshelf. The squished interior honestly made her a little claustrophobic, contributing to her inclination to spend as little time inside her dorm room as possible.
“This, or this, what do you think?” She stood, turning around and holding two tops up against herself. Definitely not shy was an understatement. After all, what was there to be shy about when she looked like she stepped out of a commercial for sports bras. Besides, Hwayoung was her best friend from childhood! They sent each other postcards! It didn’t take a genius to look at Amaya and figure out that she wasn’t a postcard sort of girl.
As for the apparels at hand, the former was a black crop top with long sleeves, the clasp at the neck existing solely to create that infamous teardrop boob window. The latter was a more standard halter top, with a deep enough v that a keyhole would serve no purpose. Neither appeared long enough to cover more than the top half of her stomach, because as far as Amaya was concerned, boobs + abs + windswept hair was a surefire recipe for getting some. And, short of that, for new insta follows that would lead to the aforementioned getting some later.
"What, too casual? You think it might be more of a portofino shirt sort of vibe?”
Last edited:
sorayeon
waiting for your smoke signal
- Joined
- Jun 18, 2021
- Location
- the clouds
so i pour another shot,
and i pretend that it's your lips -
chase down another round
until i taste your whiskey kiss -
tomorrow tonight, Loote
and i pretend that it's your lips -
chase down another round
until i taste your whiskey kiss -
tomorrow tonight, Loote
Hwayoung stretched out her legs in Amaya's absence, grateful that she could all the while missing the familiar warmth terribly. Her skin was already cooling rapidly, dropping to room temperature and flopping about just below being uncomfortable. Such as it was, to put it crudely, being half-fish. Water, particularly sea water, warmed her body like a mother's arms, or a really heavy blanket. Living on land was not as tragic as her parents made it out to be, as the good old days was just old people speak for dissatisfaction. Most importantly, it was not completely tragic because she could live out her college days moaning about stupid things to a friend who knew her too well to question said stupid things.
A best friend.
A best friend with a snarky mouth and (Hwayoung was staring shamelessly) a body most would literally die for.
"Implying something, are you? Will you be my glass slipper then?" The wink bounced off her harmlessly and rolled off to some forgotten corner. Hwayoung's eyes wandered with little, if any, intimacy. It was an appreciation for the finer things, and many of her peers would appreciate the hell out of this view. She liked looking at Amaya, because she liked to think wow! This is a work of art! then promptly try and snap all the shots and print them out to plaster all over a scrapbook of which she and Amaya had shared custody. Her best friend's military background was no secret, and the fruits of undergoing such grueling labor should not be understated. It didn't take a genius to conclude going toe-to-toe with the wulfenkin would have one, if not all of the consequences, such as:
Not that she'd seen i, ii or iii with her two mismatched eyes.
Hwayoung's lips were pursed in thought as she rolled her palms heavily over her own thighs, working out the cramps from where Amaya had turned this way and that, wiggling her toes at the same time. She didn't miss having a tail. Her's was a fat slab of muscle and flesh made to propel a body seamlessly through a heavy current - it was not designed to awaken the prehistoric urge to pat the floof. Thankfully evolution and some tinkering made it possible to hide the tail part of the whole affair, and her parents had even gone the distance and attempted mimicry..! As if shoving a pair of antlers on your daughter's head would let her pass as an unfinished nature spirit. Landwalkers didn't have gills.
She swung her legs over the bed, her heels perched on the thin edge of the bed frame. A fist tucked itself under her chin as Hwayoung did her best impression of The Thinker. She'd played this game before; Amaya's chiseled abs would take the spotlight front and center without question, but the lead always needed a supporting actress, and there were two blessed nominees tonight. This offered vast insight into the cleavage; eyes were windows to the soul and the windows were two delicious curves. That took subtlety out the back and stomped it to pieces. So really, it was between boobs or boobs ad infinitum.
"I don't know, that sounds like a pasta and spaghetti straps don't work on you." Hwayoung said, standing up to stride her wobbly stride over to her friend, the whole grand meter and then some that kept their beds apart. While she lacked the mammalian grace of her friend, and her knees still clicked alarmingly, she was surprisingly graceful. It was like attaching very tall heels to an overly-cautious yet enthusiastic deer. She tapped boobs and said, "I think the one you pulled while wearing this last wasn't staring at your chest hard enough." Then, her attention turned to boobs, extra serving, and said, hauntingly, "I haven't seen this one before," which was about as mysterious as a paper bag with a big bold question mark on the side. Let Seunghyu ssi and Minhee sunbae work their way through that.
Dropping to her haunches, arms hanging over her knees loosely, she eyed it up and down like it owed her money. Like it was the singular most important decision of her life, like her entire degree balanced on making sure she was the best wing-woman at this goddamn party. She'd make that sacrifice. "I could wear one," came the offer, "then if you feel like yours isn't fit for the occasion, we can find a bathroom and swap. Also, it'll save me time picking something from my own wardrobe." Gods forbid that would ever happen. Gods forbade, if gods attended her middle school disco rave night. Her suggestion was dangerous, too. Hwayoung was not as athletically inclined, and her arms were prim and slender; all the muscle was in the legs and the ramrod straightness of her spine. She lacked the windows. Rock gave way to soft cement. Her smile dazzled as she tilted her head up.
A best friend.
A best friend with a snarky mouth and (Hwayoung was staring shamelessly) a body most would literally die for.
"Implying something, are you? Will you be my glass slipper then?" The wink bounced off her harmlessly and rolled off to some forgotten corner. Hwayoung's eyes wandered with little, if any, intimacy. It was an appreciation for the finer things, and many of her peers would appreciate the hell out of this view. She liked looking at Amaya, because she liked to think wow! This is a work of art! then promptly try and snap all the shots and print them out to plaster all over a scrapbook of which she and Amaya had shared custody. Her best friend's military background was no secret, and the fruits of undergoing such grueling labor should not be understated. It didn't take a genius to conclude going toe-to-toe with the wulfenkin would have one, if not all of the consequences, such as:
i) breaking your fist
ii) eating a sandwich you didn't ask for
iii) cloud-watching against your will
ii) eating a sandwich you didn't ask for
iii) cloud-watching against your will
Not that she'd seen i, ii or iii with her two mismatched eyes.
Hwayoung's lips were pursed in thought as she rolled her palms heavily over her own thighs, working out the cramps from where Amaya had turned this way and that, wiggling her toes at the same time. She didn't miss having a tail. Her's was a fat slab of muscle and flesh made to propel a body seamlessly through a heavy current - it was not designed to awaken the prehistoric urge to pat the floof. Thankfully evolution and some tinkering made it possible to hide the tail part of the whole affair, and her parents had even gone the distance and attempted mimicry..! As if shoving a pair of antlers on your daughter's head would let her pass as an unfinished nature spirit. Landwalkers didn't have gills.
She swung her legs over the bed, her heels perched on the thin edge of the bed frame. A fist tucked itself under her chin as Hwayoung did her best impression of The Thinker. She'd played this game before; Amaya's chiseled abs would take the spotlight front and center without question, but the lead always needed a supporting actress, and there were two blessed nominees tonight. This offered vast insight into the cleavage; eyes were windows to the soul and the windows were two delicious curves. That took subtlety out the back and stomped it to pieces. So really, it was between boobs or boobs ad infinitum.
"I don't know, that sounds like a pasta and spaghetti straps don't work on you." Hwayoung said, standing up to stride her wobbly stride over to her friend, the whole grand meter and then some that kept their beds apart. While she lacked the mammalian grace of her friend, and her knees still clicked alarmingly, she was surprisingly graceful. It was like attaching very tall heels to an overly-cautious yet enthusiastic deer. She tapped boobs and said, "I think the one you pulled while wearing this last wasn't staring at your chest hard enough." Then, her attention turned to boobs, extra serving, and said, hauntingly, "I haven't seen this one before," which was about as mysterious as a paper bag with a big bold question mark on the side. Let Seunghyu ssi and Minhee sunbae work their way through that.
Dropping to her haunches, arms hanging over her knees loosely, she eyed it up and down like it owed her money. Like it was the singular most important decision of her life, like her entire degree balanced on making sure she was the best wing-woman at this goddamn party. She'd make that sacrifice. "I could wear one," came the offer, "then if you feel like yours isn't fit for the occasion, we can find a bathroom and swap. Also, it'll save me time picking something from my own wardrobe." Gods forbid that would ever happen. Gods forbade, if gods attended her middle school disco rave night. Her suggestion was dangerous, too. Hwayoung was not as athletically inclined, and her arms were prim and slender; all the muscle was in the legs and the ramrod straightness of her spine. She lacked the windows. Rock gave way to soft cement. Her smile dazzled as she tilted her head up.
And because she was a piss-poor extrovert, said,"That way if you leave empty handed, you can still say you saw a woman with her shirt off."
daf7a6 x 8ff4d9
Last edited:
OP
OP
- Joined
- Sep 9, 2015
- Location
- ʙᴀ ᴅᴜᴍ 𝙩𝙨𝙨
⦊ ωᴀᴛᴇʀ ⦉
“I can pull off anything.” An exaggerated huff, nearly a snort, accompanied Amaya’s spirited disagreement. It was less egoism - though there was certainly a fair bit of that too - and more just a desire to disagree for the sake of disagreeing. But not to the point of being disagreeable. Was that convoluted? Probably. Canines being knotty were only to be expected, no? Don’t forget - terrible humor. Although, if Hwayoung ever called her out on it, Amaya would most likely just throw both arms around her dearest friend’s neck and play at shamelessness until Hwayoung relented. And if that didn’t work, there was always the tried and true puppy dog eyes. She had a whole playbook for stealing acquiring food from Hwayoung’s plate after scarfing down her own. Not that she couldn’t just go and buy more, but because other people’s food tastes better.
Petty squabbles aside, Amaya did not pursue the point. Hwayoung had a good eye for this sort of thing, and besides, bringing up her past conquests was always a surefire way to make Amaya puff out her chest and preen. If one managed to peer within her noggin, would there exist anything except food and girls? A worrisome question. In her defense, she wasn’t the one studying marine biology. Not that she hadn’t studied the biology of marine creatures from time to time, ahem.
The offer to model her wardrobe though. Now, that surprised. Obvious differences notwithstanding, their builds were not that different, and the material of these tops was stretchy. Amaya had no doubt that Hwayoung could pull off boobs or boobs, topped-up; hell, she had the utmost faith that Hwayoung could do just about anything she wanted to if she put her mind to it. (Except for certain sports, but ah, she had promised to forget certain ‘incidents’. And they were definitely forgotten. Yep.)
What made a brow arc high towards her hairline, tangoing with her bangs, was over how this was definitely not Hwayoung’s scene. Sure, she couldn’t claim to know all of Hwayoung’s secrets - years apart tended to do that - but, fifteen weeks into their reunion, Amaya was quite confident that she had a solid grasp over what Hwayoung liked and did not like. Her bestie was far from being one-dimensional, but, and she doubted that Hwayoung would even deny this, Hwayoung was indubiously a ‘good girl’, especially when compared to Amaya. See: marine biology. See: “I have classes.” Should she feel bad about dragging said ‘good girl’ to a party where an abundance of soju and hormones was not merely a byproduct, but the selling point? Probably, but instead, all she offered in response was an absolutely wicked grin. Both ears fanned forward with interest, zeroing in on that dazzling smile with the glee of a kid stealing candy. An agent of chaos. Who, Amaya? Definitely not. She could sign the cross and swear up and down, but facts remained facts.
“Alright, Cinderella, here’s your gown.” Boobs was the pick, because she absolutely would not stand for that comment about a past flame not staring at her chest hard enough. To be fair, there was a lot to admire. But the implication! If Amaya were going to be playing the fairy godmother for this one, then goddammit she was going to be the hottest fairy godmother the world has ever seen. Actually, coming to think of it, anything she starred in would probably never hit the cinemas on account of its rating. Oops.
They walked, because this was Seoul, and owning a car and the place to park it was a distant dream. But oof. Jiwon ssi wasn’t kidding when she said that Seunghyu sunbae was rich. Because damn. This wasn’t quite a penthouse, but the high rise apartment most definitely deserved the ‘luxury’ in its tag. First of all, there were actually gaps between furniture. (And really, just having the space to put non-essential furniture in the first place.) As Amaya had come to learn, nights out in Seoul mostly involved several rounds at local establishments. She had been to enough goji jib by now to actually have an opinion on the best pork belly in town. The bars and clubs were more of her scene, but she hung just fine at noraebangs and dangy dorm get togethers as well.
This though, if not classier, was at least roomier than the usual fare. She recalled Hwayoung saying Seunghyu trying to get in with the bad crowd, so maybe there was someone Seunghyu was trying to impress? Either way, as far as Amaya was concerned, she was reaping in the ‘positive externalities’ - fancy new lingo courtesy of the one econ course she was forced to suffer through.
By the time they had arrived - fashionably late, of course - the place was already packed. Students lounged on sofas, the infamous red cups in hand. Hung out on the floor, squeezing close and giggling over god-knows-what on their phones. The lights were kept dimmed, and wall-mounted stereos provided a background beat. The host was nowhere in sight, and so, predictably, Amaya found herself gravitating towards the next best thing. She was not about to leave Hwayoung to fend for herself though. As they would say it back in the States, bros before hoes.
“How ‘bout a round of beer pong, do you play?” Rocking forward, with both thumbs hooked into the pockets of her distressed jeans, Amaya peered over at the players wrapping up their match. Not bad. Not bad at all. But she was better. (Or so she would proclaim to the end of her days). Needed a plus one for beer pong though, and luck has it, she came with one. “I can teach ya if you don’t. I’m good.” Those sanguinary eyes flashed alongside a cocky smirk, peeking out from beneath the intentionally shaggy bangs. Obsidian framed her jaw, spilt down her shoulders, and glimmered blue and violet from the colored LEDs. As it turned out, boobs, extra serving looked amazing on her. But that was a given.
Petty squabbles aside, Amaya did not pursue the point. Hwayoung had a good eye for this sort of thing, and besides, bringing up her past conquests was always a surefire way to make Amaya puff out her chest and preen. If one managed to peer within her noggin, would there exist anything except food and girls? A worrisome question. In her defense, she wasn’t the one studying marine biology. Not that she hadn’t studied the biology of marine creatures from time to time, ahem.
The offer to model her wardrobe though. Now, that surprised. Obvious differences notwithstanding, their builds were not that different, and the material of these tops was stretchy. Amaya had no doubt that Hwayoung could pull off boobs or boobs, topped-up; hell, she had the utmost faith that Hwayoung could do just about anything she wanted to if she put her mind to it. (Except for certain sports, but ah, she had promised to forget certain ‘incidents’. And they were definitely forgotten. Yep.)
What made a brow arc high towards her hairline, tangoing with her bangs, was over how this was definitely not Hwayoung’s scene. Sure, she couldn’t claim to know all of Hwayoung’s secrets - years apart tended to do that - but, fifteen weeks into their reunion, Amaya was quite confident that she had a solid grasp over what Hwayoung liked and did not like. Her bestie was far from being one-dimensional, but, and she doubted that Hwayoung would even deny this, Hwayoung was indubiously a ‘good girl’, especially when compared to Amaya. See: marine biology. See: “I have classes.” Should she feel bad about dragging said ‘good girl’ to a party where an abundance of soju and hormones was not merely a byproduct, but the selling point? Probably, but instead, all she offered in response was an absolutely wicked grin. Both ears fanned forward with interest, zeroing in on that dazzling smile with the glee of a kid stealing candy. An agent of chaos. Who, Amaya? Definitely not. She could sign the cross and swear up and down, but facts remained facts.
“Alright, Cinderella, here’s your gown.” Boobs was the pick, because she absolutely would not stand for that comment about a past flame not staring at her chest hard enough. To be fair, there was a lot to admire. But the implication! If Amaya were going to be playing the fairy godmother for this one, then goddammit she was going to be the hottest fairy godmother the world has ever seen. Actually, coming to think of it, anything she starred in would probably never hit the cinemas on account of its rating. Oops.
They walked, because this was Seoul, and owning a car and the place to park it was a distant dream. But oof. Jiwon ssi wasn’t kidding when she said that Seunghyu sunbae was rich. Because damn. This wasn’t quite a penthouse, but the high rise apartment most definitely deserved the ‘luxury’ in its tag. First of all, there were actually gaps between furniture. (And really, just having the space to put non-essential furniture in the first place.) As Amaya had come to learn, nights out in Seoul mostly involved several rounds at local establishments. She had been to enough goji jib by now to actually have an opinion on the best pork belly in town. The bars and clubs were more of her scene, but she hung just fine at noraebangs and dangy dorm get togethers as well.
This though, if not classier, was at least roomier than the usual fare. She recalled Hwayoung saying Seunghyu trying to get in with the bad crowd, so maybe there was someone Seunghyu was trying to impress? Either way, as far as Amaya was concerned, she was reaping in the ‘positive externalities’ - fancy new lingo courtesy of the one econ course she was forced to suffer through.
By the time they had arrived - fashionably late, of course - the place was already packed. Students lounged on sofas, the infamous red cups in hand. Hung out on the floor, squeezing close and giggling over god-knows-what on their phones. The lights were kept dimmed, and wall-mounted stereos provided a background beat. The host was nowhere in sight, and so, predictably, Amaya found herself gravitating towards the next best thing. She was not about to leave Hwayoung to fend for herself though. As they would say it back in the States, bros before hoes.
“How ‘bout a round of beer pong, do you play?” Rocking forward, with both thumbs hooked into the pockets of her distressed jeans, Amaya peered over at the players wrapping up their match. Not bad. Not bad at all. But she was better. (Or so she would proclaim to the end of her days). Needed a plus one for beer pong though, and luck has it, she came with one. “I can teach ya if you don’t. I’m good.” Those sanguinary eyes flashed alongside a cocky smirk, peeking out from beneath the intentionally shaggy bangs. Obsidian framed her jaw, spilt down her shoulders, and glimmered blue and violet from the colored LEDs. As it turned out, boobs, extra serving looked amazing on her. But that was a given.
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sorayeon
waiting for your smoke signal
- Joined
- Jun 18, 2021
- Location
- the clouds
so i pour another shot,
and i pretend that it's your lips -
chase down another round
until i taste your whiskey kiss -
tomorrow tonight, Loote
and i pretend that it's your lips -
chase down another round
until i taste your whiskey kiss -
tomorrow tonight, Loote
Hwayoung plucked the offered outfit away, holding it against her own chest to determine just how bad of an idea this was going to be. Her veredict: uh-oh. This halter top must be illegal, she thought disparagingly when she stared at her reflection in the standing mirror. She knew Amaya loved her crop tops, but this little black number was borderline insensitive. She would be punching above her weight class. The hem of it barely reached past her midriff, and her soft skin would be displayed for all to see. Wasn't that what she wanted?
"Well of course you would say it like that," Hwayoung ribbed lightly, "I think a simple skirt would pair nicely with this." She tossed the top onto her bed, freeing her hands to rummage through her less militaristic wardrobe. Hwayoung owned about half a dozen of the exact same design of skirt but in varying colors and patterns. Plaid and checkered, zebra stripes and leopard print; robin egg blue, lots of monochrome and one incredibly hot pink. She tugged a lightly frilled, white skirt out that would reach her thighs and a balled up pair of knee-high socks. Tossed both onto the bed too for the complete fit.
"I'll wear shorts underneath," Hwayoung announced to nobody in particular. That was almost too easy but, to be fair, Amaya did the hard parts for her. The first was extending the invitation in the first place - Hwayoung would have rather dropped dead than attend a party on her lonesome. The second was the top half of her outfit, which was an improvement from the various oversized graphic tees she kept from, like, tenth grade. Thirdly, though no less important, Amaya's presence had this funny way of making her a little more daring.
Yes, she may be late for class, and yes, maybe she was procrastinating a paper (that only amounted to about 2% of her grade), but where else would she get to see Amaya rocking that black top while Seunghyu ssi made googly eyes at her throughout the night. If Hwayoung was ever worried about her best friend's grades and her hobbies, she never said anything. And there was nothing wrong with a party! She had a grand time slamming beer and soju shots back during that one mixer. Such a grand time that she couldn't remember anything past her third glass, which surely meant that nothing traumatic happened.
But it always came back to Amaya. There was that inherent trust, even if it meant they wouldn't see each other for the next couple days.
Hwayoung wore boots because it was chilly. These boots made her steps clop clop on the sidewalk, which she did not enjoy. The walk was pleasant, though, like the calm before the storm. The nervous anticipation of what to expect when they reached their destination. Seunhyu ssi was well known for her obsession with her nest egg. Literally. Her grandparents were chicken farmers, and those chickens laid eggs of gold which, ick, stayed warm. So she could more than afford the apartment and spruce it up with luxurious furniture. There was a couch and multiple tables! Hwayoung could stretch her arms out and not touch a single person.
She still crowded herself very close to Amaya's arm.
Red solo cups were thrust at them with lewd abandon, sloshing with jinro and flavored soju. She could smell the sharp scent of vodka and tequila too, but it was still early into the party. Songs from the Top 100 list blasted in the background from top of the line speakers. Hwayoung couldn't even read the embossed logo, it was too fancy. Glad that she didn't have to shout, she ducked and said something against Amaya's ear.. which was immediately drowned out by hysterical whooping from the extra table (!) close by. Recognizing the tell-tale lineup of cups and their missing sections, she knew Amaya would-
There it was. "I.. have?" It was a question because Hwayoung's last attempt wasn't really playing. It was more tossing the little plastic balls with little thought, and forcing her pong partner to drink her share of the drinks. By the end of it, they were drunk as a skunk and Hwayoung was sober and embarrassed by her poor showing. She looked to her opponents, two boys in skin tight jeans and tie-dye shirts. Twins. One of them had a cap on and a black mask, the other had a billion piercings but only on one ear and lots of chains on their pants. They each had a single horn, one had the right and the other had the left. Both whisked their spaded tails to and fro. They looked comfortable and confident. They were smirking, their mouths full of teeth and jagged fangs.
Amaya would wipe the floor with them.
"I'm just here for the ride," she said sweetly, picking up a plastic ball as the cups were refilled with some sloshing brown liquid. "One time I lost 25 coin tosses in a row. Another time I was throwing hoops and the machine felt so bad, it gave me my money back." Hwayoung chucked it with a flick of her wrist, and the ball went sailing through the air only to bounce along the edge of the long trestle table.
"Well of course you would say it like that," Hwayoung ribbed lightly, "I think a simple skirt would pair nicely with this." She tossed the top onto her bed, freeing her hands to rummage through her less militaristic wardrobe. Hwayoung owned about half a dozen of the exact same design of skirt but in varying colors and patterns. Plaid and checkered, zebra stripes and leopard print; robin egg blue, lots of monochrome and one incredibly hot pink. She tugged a lightly frilled, white skirt out that would reach her thighs and a balled up pair of knee-high socks. Tossed both onto the bed too for the complete fit.
"I'll wear shorts underneath," Hwayoung announced to nobody in particular. That was almost too easy but, to be fair, Amaya did the hard parts for her. The first was extending the invitation in the first place - Hwayoung would have rather dropped dead than attend a party on her lonesome. The second was the top half of her outfit, which was an improvement from the various oversized graphic tees she kept from, like, tenth grade. Thirdly, though no less important, Amaya's presence had this funny way of making her a little more daring.
Yes, she may be late for class, and yes, maybe she was procrastinating a paper (that only amounted to about 2% of her grade), but where else would she get to see Amaya rocking that black top while Seunghyu ssi made googly eyes at her throughout the night. If Hwayoung was ever worried about her best friend's grades and her hobbies, she never said anything. And there was nothing wrong with a party! She had a grand time slamming beer and soju shots back during that one mixer. Such a grand time that she couldn't remember anything past her third glass, which surely meant that nothing traumatic happened.
But it always came back to Amaya. There was that inherent trust, even if it meant they wouldn't see each other for the next couple days.
Hwayoung wore boots because it was chilly. These boots made her steps clop clop on the sidewalk, which she did not enjoy. The walk was pleasant, though, like the calm before the storm. The nervous anticipation of what to expect when they reached their destination. Seunhyu ssi was well known for her obsession with her nest egg. Literally. Her grandparents were chicken farmers, and those chickens laid eggs of gold which, ick, stayed warm. So she could more than afford the apartment and spruce it up with luxurious furniture. There was a couch and multiple tables! Hwayoung could stretch her arms out and not touch a single person.
She still crowded herself very close to Amaya's arm.
Red solo cups were thrust at them with lewd abandon, sloshing with jinro and flavored soju. She could smell the sharp scent of vodka and tequila too, but it was still early into the party. Songs from the Top 100 list blasted in the background from top of the line speakers. Hwayoung couldn't even read the embossed logo, it was too fancy. Glad that she didn't have to shout, she ducked and said something against Amaya's ear.. which was immediately drowned out by hysterical whooping from the extra table (!) close by. Recognizing the tell-tale lineup of cups and their missing sections, she knew Amaya would-
There it was. "I.. have?" It was a question because Hwayoung's last attempt wasn't really playing. It was more tossing the little plastic balls with little thought, and forcing her pong partner to drink her share of the drinks. By the end of it, they were drunk as a skunk and Hwayoung was sober and embarrassed by her poor showing. She looked to her opponents, two boys in skin tight jeans and tie-dye shirts. Twins. One of them had a cap on and a black mask, the other had a billion piercings but only on one ear and lots of chains on their pants. They each had a single horn, one had the right and the other had the left. Both whisked their spaded tails to and fro. They looked comfortable and confident. They were smirking, their mouths full of teeth and jagged fangs.
Amaya would wipe the floor with them.
"I'm just here for the ride," she said sweetly, picking up a plastic ball as the cups were refilled with some sloshing brown liquid. "One time I lost 25 coin tosses in a row. Another time I was throwing hoops and the machine felt so bad, it gave me my money back." Hwayoung chucked it with a flick of her wrist, and the ball went sailing through the air only to bounce along the edge of the long trestle table.
She shrugged. "So this shouldn't be too bad."
daf7a6 x 8ff4d9
Last edited:
OP
OP
- Joined
- Sep 9, 2015
- Location
- ʙᴀ ᴅᴜᴍ 𝙩𝙨𝙨
⦊ ωᴀᴛᴇʀ ⦉
Amaya made her shot - but that was a given. Besides, all things considered, the first rounds were freebies. With six cups stacked like neat bowling pins, just aiming at the general vicinity will pretty much guarantee the first shot or two. The key phrase being ‘general vicinity’, given where Hwayoung’s shot soared.
“I’ll defend, alright?” She offered, keeping her eyes on the twin…imps? Devils? Devil-imps? One of them polished off the drink with gusto whilst the other one chased down Hwayoung’s wild goose of a shot. She didn’t need to lean close to the brown sloshing liquid to catch the strong scent of whiskey, which… Well, Amaya wasn’t quite sure what to say about that one beyond damn. Even cheap whiskey was quite a bit more expensive than the watered-down beer she was more used to, not to mention the differences in proof. Koreans went hard. Which also meant, given how lucid their opponents appeared, that this was going to be an uphill battle.
Just how she liked it.
Their opening salvos did not disappoint. Perfectly in sync, those two, doing their appearances justice as they shot side by side. Coincidentally, the right-horn used his right arm, while the left-horn appeared a leftie. The trajectory of the hollow spheres followed the same perfect arcs - for a time. One throw did not have the same force as the other, a fact made obvious as one ball dipped and the other continued. The first bounced. The second did not. And yet both were near parallel when they neared the cluster of cups. Optimized chaos, one might say, blink and you miss it. Amaya didn’t blink. Without any hesitation, she swiped and caught the bounced ball, allowing the other to continue unimpeded into a cup, tying the score.
It didn’t even occur to her to offer the cup to Hwayoung before she downed the drink and fished the ball out. It was whiskey all right. Couldn’t tell what, beyond that it wasn’t bad and, well, did what whiskey was designed to do. The vapor of the alcohol assaulted her nose the same way the pungent taste her tongue. It evaporated the moisture from her mouth and stung going down. But it was a pleasant heat, a lingering burn permeating her throat, the white oak the liquor was aged on competed for centerstage with heady smoke and traces of fruit. Amaya licked her lips, set the emptied cup down, and offered a ball to Hwayoung.
“See what they did there?” Her voice was muffled on account of leaning in, whispering just loud enough to carry over the thumping bassline. The distinct smell of whiskey puffed with each syllable, but she did not appear otherwise affected, not from one measly drink. “You might find it easier if you bounce your shot.” There were rules about those, of course, rules Amaya intended to take full advantage of. But there weren’t any rules about sliding behind Hwayoung’s back, gently gripping her wrist, and guiding her through the motion once or twice. “Keep your arm right here, and throw like I just showed you.” Strategy in beer pong? Yeah, she liked winning, what of it.
Amaya aimed her shot only after Hwayoung had thrown. She went for an overhead throw with a fast flick of her wrist, sending her shot darting down with much more velocity than Hwayoung’s shot. Right-horn swatted at the bounced ball, but before he could pull his hand out of the way, he got smacked by Amaya’s ball. Which, technically, still placed him at fault under the rules, incurring a one cup penalty of the shooter's choice. “Remove the front most cup,” she declared, smugly, tail upright and swishing to and fro, ever the surest indicator of her good mood, before leaning over to Hwayoung again. “Good job, now just keep going like that.”
“I’ll defend, alright?” She offered, keeping her eyes on the twin…imps? Devils? Devil-imps? One of them polished off the drink with gusto whilst the other one chased down Hwayoung’s wild goose of a shot. She didn’t need to lean close to the brown sloshing liquid to catch the strong scent of whiskey, which… Well, Amaya wasn’t quite sure what to say about that one beyond damn. Even cheap whiskey was quite a bit more expensive than the watered-down beer she was more used to, not to mention the differences in proof. Koreans went hard. Which also meant, given how lucid their opponents appeared, that this was going to be an uphill battle.
Just how she liked it.
Their opening salvos did not disappoint. Perfectly in sync, those two, doing their appearances justice as they shot side by side. Coincidentally, the right-horn used his right arm, while the left-horn appeared a leftie. The trajectory of the hollow spheres followed the same perfect arcs - for a time. One throw did not have the same force as the other, a fact made obvious as one ball dipped and the other continued. The first bounced. The second did not. And yet both were near parallel when they neared the cluster of cups. Optimized chaos, one might say, blink and you miss it. Amaya didn’t blink. Without any hesitation, she swiped and caught the bounced ball, allowing the other to continue unimpeded into a cup, tying the score.
It didn’t even occur to her to offer the cup to Hwayoung before she downed the drink and fished the ball out. It was whiskey all right. Couldn’t tell what, beyond that it wasn’t bad and, well, did what whiskey was designed to do. The vapor of the alcohol assaulted her nose the same way the pungent taste her tongue. It evaporated the moisture from her mouth and stung going down. But it was a pleasant heat, a lingering burn permeating her throat, the white oak the liquor was aged on competed for centerstage with heady smoke and traces of fruit. Amaya licked her lips, set the emptied cup down, and offered a ball to Hwayoung.
“See what they did there?” Her voice was muffled on account of leaning in, whispering just loud enough to carry over the thumping bassline. The distinct smell of whiskey puffed with each syllable, but she did not appear otherwise affected, not from one measly drink. “You might find it easier if you bounce your shot.” There were rules about those, of course, rules Amaya intended to take full advantage of. But there weren’t any rules about sliding behind Hwayoung’s back, gently gripping her wrist, and guiding her through the motion once or twice. “Keep your arm right here, and throw like I just showed you.” Strategy in beer pong? Yeah, she liked winning, what of it.
Amaya aimed her shot only after Hwayoung had thrown. She went for an overhead throw with a fast flick of her wrist, sending her shot darting down with much more velocity than Hwayoung’s shot. Right-horn swatted at the bounced ball, but before he could pull his hand out of the way, he got smacked by Amaya’s ball. Which, technically, still placed him at fault under the rules, incurring a one cup penalty of the shooter's choice. “Remove the front most cup,” she declared, smugly, tail upright and swishing to and fro, ever the surest indicator of her good mood, before leaning over to Hwayoung again. “Good job, now just keep going like that.”
sorayeon
waiting for your smoke signal
- Joined
- Jun 18, 2021
- Location
- the clouds
so i pour another shot,
and i pretend that it's your lips -
chase down another round
until i taste your whiskey kiss -
tomorrow tonight, Loote
and i pretend that it's your lips -
chase down another round
until i taste your whiskey kiss -
tomorrow tonight, Loote
Okay, so Hwayoung hadn't realized there were rules to this game, which really shouldn't have been surprising.
Even a liquored up frat house had some law and order to follow, and the consequences for failing to do so were astonishingly severe. From getting kicked out to having to endure humiliation and mockery for the rest of your school years; she hoped beer pong didn't have the same rigidity. A nod was her only reply and for the remainder of their turn, pretended like she understood what defend meant in this context.
So that was her, Amaya's useless third arm sort of half-hardheartedly watching the ball being tossed back and forth.
The twins were a force of nature, and given their dashingly good looks and how they slouched made up 90% of their personality, their match was drawing a thin crowd. Girls whose eyes glowed and tails swished, boys with oversized fangs and cloven hooves, they all made a neat circle while nursing their cups. Maybe it wasn't just the twins that attracted such curiosity and interest though.. Amaya beckoned to a different sort of audience, reasons being one short crop top and a healthy display of well-toned muscle, ample cleavage and an unending wave of confidence.
For some time, only the plink plink plonk sound of hollow ping pong balls could be heard above the muted music and murmurs, and feeling just a little self-conscious, Hwayoung would have happily taken one for the team and taken the liquid shot. Never attend a party like this sober, and she was beginning to feel too sober. But Amaya, always the gentleman, sent the whiskey straight back. She pursed her lips as her friend came up for air, her lips still glistening with proofed moisture. The empty cup was placed back on the table as the twins turned away to divise their own two-pronged strategy without exchanging a single word.
"Huh?" Hwayoung said, a little too loudly. Amaya's breath tickled her finned ear, and the smell of heavy whiskey entered the fray. Her arm tensed when the other girl's hand slipped against the soft skin of her wrist but immediately slackened at the familiar touch, allowing her to puppet the limb with ease. It felt like slicing through the water with a webbed hand, except her wrist game wasn't quite as powerful on land. Still, she was determined not to let her partner down and more importantly, she simply wouldn't allow herself to buckle under pressure.
Her eyes honed in on the opposing pyramid, ignoring the chill when Amaya moved away, taking that lovely warmth with her. She closed her 'defective' eye and aimed, remembering to go for a bounce and a shot. Its double didn't wait as Amaya took her own quickly after. It happened much too fast, and she had been so focused on not making a fool of herself, it was only until Amaya's tail batted against her did she realize they had 'won'. Benign ruling or not, they took those. Hwayoung looked at her friend, absolutely thrilled as the twins played kai bai bo to decide who gets the cup. Rightie lost because she was convinced Leftie cheated.
"Let me have the next one," Hwayoung said, the fire of determination well and truly lit behind the gold of her eyes. The pitch black sclera should have made the rest of her expression unsettling, and the flashing LED lights weren't helping. "I can't have you taking all the hits for me." She shifted into place in front of Amaya, reaching out her hand to toss her ball up and down in her palm, and looked up over her shoulder with a soft, razor-sharp grin.
Even a liquored up frat house had some law and order to follow, and the consequences for failing to do so were astonishingly severe. From getting kicked out to having to endure humiliation and mockery for the rest of your school years; she hoped beer pong didn't have the same rigidity. A nod was her only reply and for the remainder of their turn, pretended like she understood what defend meant in this context.
So that was her, Amaya's useless third arm sort of half-hardheartedly watching the ball being tossed back and forth.
The twins were a force of nature, and given their dashingly good looks and how they slouched made up 90% of their personality, their match was drawing a thin crowd. Girls whose eyes glowed and tails swished, boys with oversized fangs and cloven hooves, they all made a neat circle while nursing their cups. Maybe it wasn't just the twins that attracted such curiosity and interest though.. Amaya beckoned to a different sort of audience, reasons being one short crop top and a healthy display of well-toned muscle, ample cleavage and an unending wave of confidence.
For some time, only the plink plink plonk sound of hollow ping pong balls could be heard above the muted music and murmurs, and feeling just a little self-conscious, Hwayoung would have happily taken one for the team and taken the liquid shot. Never attend a party like this sober, and she was beginning to feel too sober. But Amaya, always the gentleman, sent the whiskey straight back. She pursed her lips as her friend came up for air, her lips still glistening with proofed moisture. The empty cup was placed back on the table as the twins turned away to divise their own two-pronged strategy without exchanging a single word.
"Huh?" Hwayoung said, a little too loudly. Amaya's breath tickled her finned ear, and the smell of heavy whiskey entered the fray. Her arm tensed when the other girl's hand slipped against the soft skin of her wrist but immediately slackened at the familiar touch, allowing her to puppet the limb with ease. It felt like slicing through the water with a webbed hand, except her wrist game wasn't quite as powerful on land. Still, she was determined not to let her partner down and more importantly, she simply wouldn't allow herself to buckle under pressure.
Her eyes honed in on the opposing pyramid, ignoring the chill when Amaya moved away, taking that lovely warmth with her. She closed her 'defective' eye and aimed, remembering to go for a bounce and a shot. Its double didn't wait as Amaya took her own quickly after. It happened much too fast, and she had been so focused on not making a fool of herself, it was only until Amaya's tail batted against her did she realize they had 'won'. Benign ruling or not, they took those. Hwayoung looked at her friend, absolutely thrilled as the twins played kai bai bo to decide who gets the cup. Rightie lost because she was convinced Leftie cheated.
"Let me have the next one," Hwayoung said, the fire of determination well and truly lit behind the gold of her eyes. The pitch black sclera should have made the rest of her expression unsettling, and the flashing LED lights weren't helping. "I can't have you taking all the hits for me." She shifted into place in front of Amaya, reaching out her hand to toss her ball up and down in her palm, and looked up over her shoulder with a soft, razor-sharp grin.
"If you're the shield, it stands to reason I'm the sword." Hwayoung nudged the other's belly with her elbow lightly. "Ironic, huh?"
And made her shot.
And made her shot.
daf7a6 x 8ff4d9
OP
OP
- Joined
- Sep 9, 2015
- Location
- ʙᴀ ᴅᴜᴍ 𝙩𝙨𝙨
⦊ ωᴀᴛᴇʀ ⦉
As it turned out, the ‘next one’ was really the next two. The twins wised up after their foiled sync attempt, and both opted for more standard overhead throws. That they both nailed their shots and the rollback shot should be concerning, but Amaya welcomed the challenge. “Nah, I’m the shield and the sword.” The grin she flashed was 100% concentrated cockiness, but the good humor enlivening her voice tempered the blow. “You, young grasshopper, are in training.” She fished the balls out, dumped them in the wash cup, and handed one of the plastic-chalices-foretelling-a-good time to Hwayoung. “But we’ll turn you into a beer pong champ yet.”
True to her boast, Amaya was a veritable force of nature at all forms of shenanigans. The twins were good, really good, and, for a time, they led 4-2. That is, until one of Hwayoung’s bounce shots actually landed into a cup. Did Amaya bend down during the trajectory of that shot, shamelessly flaunting her earthly gifts for all that they were worth, perhaps. But in her defense, that was permissible game play and, three shots of whiskey inspired some friskiness in just about anyone. “Nice!” She was quick to exclaim, straightening and slapping her grasshopper-in-training on the back. Not too hard; she wasn’t that drunk. Per the very serious and very official beer pong rules, a bounce shot was worth two cups, thereby tying the score.
This went on for a few more rounds. Six cups became nine as the game proceeded into overtime. Of the eight total cups sunk on their side, Amaya drank five. And, while she wasn’t a light-weight per se, proofed liquor and watered down beer were pretty much night and day. It was a game down to the wire, and the devil-imps with their one remaining cup were doing their best not to sweat. The cocky smirks were replaced with intent Kubrick stares, a common attempt at intimidation and distraction both. Unfortunately for the both of them, Amaya was too busy staring at the little ping-pong ball to pay them any attention.
“Alright ‘lil ball,” yes, she was talking to it. Held it eye-level, actually, gazing soulfully into the plastic sphere as though it held the ultimate truth of the universe. If she had a cap, she would have definitely flipped it back Ash Ketchum style. “Time to fulfill your destiny.” She kissed the ball for good measure, because as it turned out, she was definitely a rowdy drinker. The little plastic ball that could soared in a perfect arc - wait for it, wait for it - and bam. Hook line and sinker. The big kaboom. “Let’s gooooo!” Very rowdy, with the way she pulled Hwayoung into one of those infamous wulfenkin hugs to celebrate their victory. Bears, take notes. Because wulfenkin hugs are the new meta. “You did great!” The exclamation marks were self-multiplying as they parted, and the fluffy tail entered hyperdrive. There was some good natured grumbling from the other side, offers of a rematch, and so forth. But before Amaya could comment on that one way or another, her attention was pulled away.
“Amaya,” no honorifics, not even a hoobae, a subtle attempt at familiarity that might have meant something to a native speaker but bounced right off of the wulfenkin. As the extravagant apartment and over-the-top hors d’oeuvres hinted at, Seunghyu was not a master of modesty or coyness. It wasn’t all that unusual for friends or even close acquaintances to clutch at one another, but that she looped an arm around Amaya’s bicep, positively squeezing the same between her bosom? That was not the epitome of friendship. “Won't you join us for a drinking game?" Nothing was directed towards the other winner of beer pong; if anything, she was almost intentionally refusing to make eye contact with Hwayoung.
Was Amaya interested? Definitely. Fun, liquor, and girls, this was what she came for after all. But she also swore by the creed of bros over hoes. Er, pals over gals? And so, grinning that famous winning grin (equally fanged, mind you), she played up to the attention but not without a snippet of her own. “Oh, absolutely, my friend and I would love to.” Did Hwayoung enjoy those? Amaya had no idea. But she would bet good money that Hwayoung wouldn’t very much enjoy being left alone at a party like this.
'Us' turned out to be a rather small group, a dozen students, an approximate 50/50 split between guys and girls. Spacious as the apartment was, fitting a dozen into a spare bedroom was still a bit of a challenge. Three girls lounged on the bed. A trio of friends huddled on a sofa. Amaya opted for the floor, same as most of the other students who joined the fun too late. The carpet was pretty plushy anyway.
“I picked this game up during my 5th vacation in Paris.” Humbleness, another trait Seunghyu did not possess. But, one look at that heart-shaped chin (and rear) and the champagne blonde hair, who had the heart to blame her? Conventional wisdom decreed that cats and dogs don't always get along, but wulfenkin were not dogs. Not in that way, anyway. Producing a small selection of cards, the hostess herself continued. “The Red Queen orders her knaves to entertain, and those not daring enough shall drink.” And, upon being met by the vacant stare of multiple semi-wasted students, Seunghyu sighed dramatically and explained further. “Twelve cards. Keep your card a secret until the Queen of Hearts gives her order. Whoever draws the Queen of Hearts will issue a command to the two people who draw the Jokers. For example - Big Joker shall braid Small Joker’s hair. If either joker refuses to follow the order, both jokers have to take a shot.”
A wave of mumbled understanding dawned, and Amaya made herself comfortable, leaning back against the wall. That was an innocent example Seunghyu gave, but, judging from the smug swishes of her tail, what she had in mind was anything but. Then again, she was hardly to be blamed. What was a college party if not alcohol, hormones, and indiscretion?
True to her boast, Amaya was a veritable force of nature at all forms of shenanigans. The twins were good, really good, and, for a time, they led 4-2. That is, until one of Hwayoung’s bounce shots actually landed into a cup. Did Amaya bend down during the trajectory of that shot, shamelessly flaunting her earthly gifts for all that they were worth, perhaps. But in her defense, that was permissible game play and, three shots of whiskey inspired some friskiness in just about anyone. “Nice!” She was quick to exclaim, straightening and slapping her grasshopper-in-training on the back. Not too hard; she wasn’t that drunk. Per the very serious and very official beer pong rules, a bounce shot was worth two cups, thereby tying the score.
This went on for a few more rounds. Six cups became nine as the game proceeded into overtime. Of the eight total cups sunk on their side, Amaya drank five. And, while she wasn’t a light-weight per se, proofed liquor and watered down beer were pretty much night and day. It was a game down to the wire, and the devil-imps with their one remaining cup were doing their best not to sweat. The cocky smirks were replaced with intent Kubrick stares, a common attempt at intimidation and distraction both. Unfortunately for the both of them, Amaya was too busy staring at the little ping-pong ball to pay them any attention.
“Alright ‘lil ball,” yes, she was talking to it. Held it eye-level, actually, gazing soulfully into the plastic sphere as though it held the ultimate truth of the universe. If she had a cap, she would have definitely flipped it back Ash Ketchum style. “Time to fulfill your destiny.” She kissed the ball for good measure, because as it turned out, she was definitely a rowdy drinker. The little plastic ball that could soared in a perfect arc - wait for it, wait for it - and bam. Hook line and sinker. The big kaboom. “Let’s gooooo!” Very rowdy, with the way she pulled Hwayoung into one of those infamous wulfenkin hugs to celebrate their victory. Bears, take notes. Because wulfenkin hugs are the new meta. “You did great!” The exclamation marks were self-multiplying as they parted, and the fluffy tail entered hyperdrive. There was some good natured grumbling from the other side, offers of a rematch, and so forth. But before Amaya could comment on that one way or another, her attention was pulled away.
“Amaya,” no honorifics, not even a hoobae, a subtle attempt at familiarity that might have meant something to a native speaker but bounced right off of the wulfenkin. As the extravagant apartment and over-the-top hors d’oeuvres hinted at, Seunghyu was not a master of modesty or coyness. It wasn’t all that unusual for friends or even close acquaintances to clutch at one another, but that she looped an arm around Amaya’s bicep, positively squeezing the same between her bosom? That was not the epitome of friendship. “Won't you join us for a drinking game?" Nothing was directed towards the other winner of beer pong; if anything, she was almost intentionally refusing to make eye contact with Hwayoung.
Was Amaya interested? Definitely. Fun, liquor, and girls, this was what she came for after all. But she also swore by the creed of bros over hoes. Er, pals over gals? And so, grinning that famous winning grin (equally fanged, mind you), she played up to the attention but not without a snippet of her own. “Oh, absolutely, my friend and I would love to.” Did Hwayoung enjoy those? Amaya had no idea. But she would bet good money that Hwayoung wouldn’t very much enjoy being left alone at a party like this.
'Us' turned out to be a rather small group, a dozen students, an approximate 50/50 split between guys and girls. Spacious as the apartment was, fitting a dozen into a spare bedroom was still a bit of a challenge. Three girls lounged on the bed. A trio of friends huddled on a sofa. Amaya opted for the floor, same as most of the other students who joined the fun too late. The carpet was pretty plushy anyway.
“I picked this game up during my 5th vacation in Paris.” Humbleness, another trait Seunghyu did not possess. But, one look at that heart-shaped chin (and rear) and the champagne blonde hair, who had the heart to blame her? Conventional wisdom decreed that cats and dogs don't always get along, but wulfenkin were not dogs. Not in that way, anyway. Producing a small selection of cards, the hostess herself continued. “The Red Queen orders her knaves to entertain, and those not daring enough shall drink.” And, upon being met by the vacant stare of multiple semi-wasted students, Seunghyu sighed dramatically and explained further. “Twelve cards. Keep your card a secret until the Queen of Hearts gives her order. Whoever draws the Queen of Hearts will issue a command to the two people who draw the Jokers. For example - Big Joker shall braid Small Joker’s hair. If either joker refuses to follow the order, both jokers have to take a shot.”
A wave of mumbled understanding dawned, and Amaya made herself comfortable, leaning back against the wall. That was an innocent example Seunghyu gave, but, judging from the smug swishes of her tail, what she had in mind was anything but. Then again, she was hardly to be blamed. What was a college party if not alcohol, hormones, and indiscretion?
Game on.
Last edited:
sorayeon
waiting for your smoke signal
- Joined
- Jun 18, 2021
- Location
- the clouds
so i pour another shot,
and i pretend that it's your lips -
chase down another round
until i taste your whiskey kiss -
tomorrow tonight, Loote
and i pretend that it's your lips -
chase down another round
until i taste your whiskey kiss -
tomorrow tonight, Loote
The first shot didn't sit right with her. Professionals knew how to knock the glass or cup back with minimal contact with the tongue but Hwayoung was not quite as learned as many of her peers. The whiskey brooded at the back of her mouth and actually did a couple of exploratory rounds over her teeth and cheeks before making its way down her gullet. This activated the more primal part of her body that screamed poison! and contorted her face into an expression that had their crowd stifling giggles at this amateur display. She was unphased. If anything, Hwayoung was more determined than ever to set the record straight.
Running solely on the kick of fiery liquor and healthy praise, her focus rivaled that of an eagle honing in on a jumpy rabbit. The brothers were looking less confident, their tails twitching in jerking motions that betrayed their discomfort. The taste of whiskey was nothing to the taste of defeat. Amaya was the sturdy tree standing tall in the middle of a hurricane. An earthquake couldn't shake her. The building could be ripped apart around them and Hwayoung was certain her best friend would still find the ping pong ball and a cup amongst the rubble. She knew when they were losing just by reading the cues, and when they finally tied, she almost choked on her designated drink.
Gleaming in the dark with pinpoint accuracy were a pair of familiar eyes. More accurately, they were gleaming directly at Amaya. Fun fact! Deep sea creatures were almost always blind or they found a way to create their own light. Merfolk were different in that they are the complete opposite. Hwayoung could clearly see Seunhyu ssi boring holes in her friend, as if staring intensely might magically make Amaya look over. Alas, the ping pong ball held more sway over her wulfenkin companion, and if Hwayoung had the chops to be crass, she might have compared the sight to an actual dog with a tennis ball. Fortunately, the thought did not enter her mind, and all she could do was grin at the arguably adorable scene.
Now the ball was in the cup and she was bundled up and squashed tight against Amaya in a crushing hug. A soft squeak of air was compressed from her lungs but the other girl's excitement was infectious. "You did great!" Hwayoung said when she was put down. The crowd was already dispersing like a bad smell, and the twins were offering their hands in boyish camraderie all the while looking absolutely smashed and miserable. "I don't think I'll be a champion any time soon; I barely did anything. I'm just here to look good." But she was beaming nevertheless, absolutely basking in the wonderful afterglow of sweet victory. Very little could shatter this cozy feeling. So of course the universe would throw a couple of those in the mix, just to see what stuck.
If Hwayoung's eyes could darken, they would. As it stood, the golden gleam of her eyes faded as she mustered every ounce of willpower not to give voice to her intrusive thoughts. Seunghyu was a master, having learned how to read social body language at a young age and made the concious decision to unlearn it. Hwayoung could have taken a photo of her eyes and stuck it to Seunghyu's ceiling and Seunghyu would simply wonder why her room was so dark. Amaya, good natured and friendly as always, somehow didn't clue in or, more convincingly, elected to ignore it. Either way, Hwayoung was not vibing with the boob-bicep placement.
There was nothing she wanted less than playing a drinking game with Seunghyu and her friends, but she appreciated Amaya's efforts to include her. Not to mention the furthest she'd get on her own would be to their dorm room fast asleep by 12.
Hwayoung settled on the floor next to Amaya, pointedly turning herself toward the familiar face and close enough that their knees knocked together. The whiskey was gurgling merrily in her stomach and she had no intention of filling up on the expensive garlic bread sticks. It was also fogging up her brain fiercely and now that there was nothing to focus on, no end-game goal, her mind was wandering from face to face and actually recognizing some from her various classes which was surprising. It seemed like their gracious host welcomed all types and majors which should have been a big check-mark in Seunghyu's favor.
Unfortunately, tipsy Hwayoung had very mean thoughts to the tune of but if you like Paris enough to go five times, why don't you just stay there? and hey, your skirt isn't short enough, your panties are showing. Only by the grace of the gods did she keep them as inner thoughts and submit to the RNG their next game of the night promised.
Instead, she reached up and cupped her hand, whispering in Amaya's ear and the cards were dealt.
"Unnie, do I have something on my face? Seunghyu ssi might explode if she looks at me."
Running solely on the kick of fiery liquor and healthy praise, her focus rivaled that of an eagle honing in on a jumpy rabbit. The brothers were looking less confident, their tails twitching in jerking motions that betrayed their discomfort. The taste of whiskey was nothing to the taste of defeat. Amaya was the sturdy tree standing tall in the middle of a hurricane. An earthquake couldn't shake her. The building could be ripped apart around them and Hwayoung was certain her best friend would still find the ping pong ball and a cup amongst the rubble. She knew when they were losing just by reading the cues, and when they finally tied, she almost choked on her designated drink.
Gleaming in the dark with pinpoint accuracy were a pair of familiar eyes. More accurately, they were gleaming directly at Amaya. Fun fact! Deep sea creatures were almost always blind or they found a way to create their own light. Merfolk were different in that they are the complete opposite. Hwayoung could clearly see Seunhyu ssi boring holes in her friend, as if staring intensely might magically make Amaya look over. Alas, the ping pong ball held more sway over her wulfenkin companion, and if Hwayoung had the chops to be crass, she might have compared the sight to an actual dog with a tennis ball. Fortunately, the thought did not enter her mind, and all she could do was grin at the arguably adorable scene.
That was definitely the alcohol talking..
Wait, did she say something?
Wait, did she say something?
Now the ball was in the cup and she was bundled up and squashed tight against Amaya in a crushing hug. A soft squeak of air was compressed from her lungs but the other girl's excitement was infectious. "You did great!" Hwayoung said when she was put down. The crowd was already dispersing like a bad smell, and the twins were offering their hands in boyish camraderie all the while looking absolutely smashed and miserable. "I don't think I'll be a champion any time soon; I barely did anything. I'm just here to look good." But she was beaming nevertheless, absolutely basking in the wonderful afterglow of sweet victory. Very little could shatter this cozy feeling. So of course the universe would throw a couple of those in the mix, just to see what stuck.
If Hwayoung's eyes could darken, they would. As it stood, the golden gleam of her eyes faded as she mustered every ounce of willpower not to give voice to her intrusive thoughts. Seunghyu was a master, having learned how to read social body language at a young age and made the concious decision to unlearn it. Hwayoung could have taken a photo of her eyes and stuck it to Seunghyu's ceiling and Seunghyu would simply wonder why her room was so dark. Amaya, good natured and friendly as always, somehow didn't clue in or, more convincingly, elected to ignore it. Either way, Hwayoung was not vibing with the boob-bicep placement.
There was nothing she wanted less than playing a drinking game with Seunghyu and her friends, but she appreciated Amaya's efforts to include her. Not to mention the furthest she'd get on her own would be to their dorm room fast asleep by 12.
Hwayoung settled on the floor next to Amaya, pointedly turning herself toward the familiar face and close enough that their knees knocked together. The whiskey was gurgling merrily in her stomach and she had no intention of filling up on the expensive garlic bread sticks. It was also fogging up her brain fiercely and now that there was nothing to focus on, no end-game goal, her mind was wandering from face to face and actually recognizing some from her various classes which was surprising. It seemed like their gracious host welcomed all types and majors which should have been a big check-mark in Seunghyu's favor.
Unfortunately, tipsy Hwayoung had very mean thoughts to the tune of but if you like Paris enough to go five times, why don't you just stay there? and hey, your skirt isn't short enough, your panties are showing. Only by the grace of the gods did she keep them as inner thoughts and submit to the RNG their next game of the night promised.
Instead, she reached up and cupped her hand, whispering in Amaya's ear and the cards were dealt.
"Unnie, do I have something on my face? Seunghyu ssi might explode if she looks at me."
daf7a6 x 8ff4d9
OP
OP
- Joined
- Sep 9, 2015
- Location
- ʙᴀ ᴅᴜᴍ 𝙩𝙨𝙨
⦊ ωᴀᴛᴇʀ ⦉
“Huh?” The response came just a tad too loudly. Now that Amaya no longer had a tennis ball to fixate upon, all those shots of whiskey were catching up with her. Sitting down helped, but she could feel the familiar haze settling over her thoughts, wrapping everything up in a thin film of cotton candy. Her breathing was a smidgen faster, those vibrant reds a touch cloudier. Even the swish of her tail slowed to a sluggish tap tap tap. On Hwayoung’s thigh. Oh, oops. She moved her tail off back to the ground, mentally chiding the rebellious appendage for getting too comfy. That, or pestering for paps, one or the other. Man, she could go for some ear scritches right now. Mm…with tacos maybe? In short, her thoughts were a bit of a jumbled mess.
Then, realizing that she never actually gave an answer, she backtracked. The implication behind Hwayoung’s words were lost on a definitely-not-drunk Amaya though. Instead, she furrowed her brows and peered at Hwayoung’s face. Like, really scrutinized it, with a head tilt and everything. “No?” And, because she wasn’t that much of a lightweight, she had to snark. “One nose, two eyes, a set of cute ‘lil fangs, seem perfectly normal to me?” Again, much too loudly. It wasn’t like she was raising her voice, but some folks were paying attention. Some folks didn’t care for the adjective she opted for.
But ah, some folks were dealing the cards now so, no harm no foul. Right.
Amaya peeked at the card she was dealt, and, because her poker face was very much lacking while being not entirely sober, immediately grinned. Which could really only mean one thing - that she was starting off as the transitory monarch of the night. “Alright knaves,” her attempt to somehow merge a British accent with Korean was, truthfully, godawful, but that only contributed to the humor of it. The card she flipped right side up on the ground, before thoughtfully stroking her chin. That absolutely devious smile she wore added to the effect. “We command the big joker to stand in front of the little joker, look ‘em in the eye…” Pretty innocent so far, but that her smile widened enough to show fangs should rightfully frighten. “...and perform their best fake orgasm impression. Oh, for at least thirty seconds.”
There was a round of oooohs and aaaahs, because rowdy students loved this particular kind of depravity. As it turned out, big joker and small joker were both guys this round. Sloshed guys that weren’t about to call it quits so soon over a bit of no homo. And so, the joker of the larger variety towered over the joker of the smaller variety, clearing his throat. There was a moment of staring, bullfrog facing off against bullfrog, but neither were about to be the one that folded on the first ‘challenge’ so to speak. And so, cue very dramatic moaning. And grunting. And furrowed brows and pinched nose. In Amaya’s honest opinion, it was funny as hell. In the same way bighorn rams shaking their heads after a headbutt was funny as hell.
But alas, round one was drawing to an end, and so, reshuffle, redeal, and newvictims students were put through the ringer. She never got the queen of hearts again, but she did get the big joker one of these rounds. The prompt was to serenade, but with something suitably dirty. Her partner was a cute hoobae she had seen once or twice around campus, who appeared some mixture of anxious and antsy. Now, if the girl had opted to drink, Amaya wouldn’t have blinked twice. But she was never one to pass up a chance to entertain, especially not over so easy an undertaking. Hopping to her feet - oof, woozy - but not unsteady enough to trip, she made her way over and flashed a grin that was nothing short of predatory, before belting out a classic.
Then, realizing that she never actually gave an answer, she backtracked. The implication behind Hwayoung’s words were lost on a definitely-not-drunk Amaya though. Instead, she furrowed her brows and peered at Hwayoung’s face. Like, really scrutinized it, with a head tilt and everything. “No?” And, because she wasn’t that much of a lightweight, she had to snark. “One nose, two eyes, a set of cute ‘lil fangs, seem perfectly normal to me?” Again, much too loudly. It wasn’t like she was raising her voice, but some folks were paying attention. Some folks didn’t care for the adjective she opted for.
But ah, some folks were dealing the cards now so, no harm no foul. Right.
Amaya peeked at the card she was dealt, and, because her poker face was very much lacking while being not entirely sober, immediately grinned. Which could really only mean one thing - that she was starting off as the transitory monarch of the night. “Alright knaves,” her attempt to somehow merge a British accent with Korean was, truthfully, godawful, but that only contributed to the humor of it. The card she flipped right side up on the ground, before thoughtfully stroking her chin. That absolutely devious smile she wore added to the effect. “We command the big joker to stand in front of the little joker, look ‘em in the eye…” Pretty innocent so far, but that her smile widened enough to show fangs should rightfully frighten. “...and perform their best fake orgasm impression. Oh, for at least thirty seconds.”
There was a round of oooohs and aaaahs, because rowdy students loved this particular kind of depravity. As it turned out, big joker and small joker were both guys this round. Sloshed guys that weren’t about to call it quits so soon over a bit of no homo. And so, the joker of the larger variety towered over the joker of the smaller variety, clearing his throat. There was a moment of staring, bullfrog facing off against bullfrog, but neither were about to be the one that folded on the first ‘challenge’ so to speak. And so, cue very dramatic moaning. And grunting. And furrowed brows and pinched nose. In Amaya’s honest opinion, it was funny as hell. In the same way bighorn rams shaking their heads after a headbutt was funny as hell.
But alas, round one was drawing to an end, and so, reshuffle, redeal, and new
“I'm just a bachelor
I'm looking for a partner
Someone who knows how to ride
Without even falling off.”
I'm looking for a partner
Someone who knows how to ride
Without even falling off.”
She wasn’t bad, all things considered, though it was a fairly easy song. Did she skip over a verse here or there? Probably. But half the song was just the refrain over and over again, which even maybe-just-a-little-bit-drunk Amaya could handle. Now, her mostly faithful rendition notwithstanding, it was not entirely clear how much the rest of the room actually understood. In fairness to her, speaking the language was one thing, but singing it? That being said, the hoobae certainly didn’t seem to mind. And, judging from the girl's flustered but definitely interested reaction, knew enough words here and there to get the general gist. Amaya wrapped up the song with that signature fanged smirk, gave herself a metaphorical pat on the back, before hopping back to her spot.
“Nailed it,” She boasted to Hwayoung with no small amount of showboating and a wink. All in good fun, of course. That her personality resembled the dictionary definition of ‘flamboyant’ would likely surprise nobody by this point. “Bet it’s gonna be your turn soon. You know, statistics…or something.” And, as if remembering something very important, she hastily appended. “You won’t chicken out, will ya? That wouldn’t be very,” she paused, rubbing her index against her temple, “marine…predator…great white shark…of you?” Not a light weight, but, by the look of it, not a heavy weight either.
sorayeon
waiting for your smoke signal
- Joined
- Jun 18, 2021
- Location
- the clouds
so i pour another shot,
and i pretend that it's your lips -
chase down another round
until i taste your whiskey kiss -
tomorrow tonight, Loote
and i pretend that it's your lips -
chase down another round
until i taste your whiskey kiss -
tomorrow tonight, Loote
Through her extremely limited grasp of English, Hwayoung was somehow able to riase a questioning brow as the unprompted karaoke began. Her friend's choice of a song definitely had connotations, the tune about as familiar as a sore throat. The lack of context was made up for by Amaya's highly suggestive tone that transcended language itself and the poor girl's reaction was an open book all on its own. Sipping some off-brand whiskey, she bobbed her head up and down, side to side, enjoying the show. The song was only a couple of minutes long, but time stretched and disappeared when alcohol was present.
Hwayoung welcomed Amaya back with a quick wiggle of her eyebrows. "Thanks for your hard work," she teased back as the other girl settled back down. It was through sheer dumb luck that she hadn't drawn the queen nor the jokers, either big or small. Some of the challenges were downright puerile while others had the potential for something greater. Surprisingly, very few participants opted to drink and having found some bravery in what liquor they had already imbibed, were absolutely party to the idea of pantsing each other and saying naughty words in steadily increasing volumes.
"Marine-predator-great-white-shark?" Hwayoung turned her gaze onto her best friend, a troubled look clouding her usually cheerful facade. "That's not very progressive of you." She didn't actually mind. Sharks were adorable until they got mad or hungry. It was the dolphins that were the butt-holes of the sea, always cosying up and pretending they were all that when really they just wanted to do unspeakable things to you. Like that one time with the sirens and that awful business with the coral reef and abandoned hermit crab shells.
The cards were dealt again by their host whose tail was waving more and more aggressively with every turn. It was clear, at least to Hwayoung, what her goal was. Amaya, on the other hand, really only had the ability to exude an obnoxiously attractive amount of confidence while somehow remaining as oblivious as ever. At least, that was what Hwayoung was picking up. Then again, she could not remember how many drinks she's had, as every time her cup went light, there was an immediate refill by some unknown face whose sole mission was to make sure everybody was having a good time and getting downright smashed.
So Hwayoung really couldn't be blamed when she had to peer incredibly hard at her cards. There was a funny looking cartoon jeering at her with a big funky hat. Amaya had spoken the statistics into existence. She revealed it to her friend almost immediately wordlessly while the unmistakable whoop of triumph meant the Red Queen discovered her throne - and the other jester jingle-jangled into existence by standing tall.
Hwayoung looked up. She had to crane her neck. Her joker friend had an unholy amount of height and muscle. They looked like they wrestled bears for fun. Hwayoung wanted to ask if they could do what the Queen wanted while sitting down, but she forgot how to word it without sounding very impolite so she ended up standing as well albeit shakily. She used Amaya's shoulder to steady herself while accidentally spilling some of that nondescript brown liquid on Seunghyu's rug. Sure she could get another one from Paris, Hwayoung wasn't feeling too guilty.
The monarch was deep in thought, conspiring with her court while Hwayoung looked at the other student with an exaggerated look of boredom. They grinned at her and shrugged, a motion that evoked the image of a tsunami. Finally, the decree was decided on by the senate (was that against the rules?). The Queen produced a cellphone despite having no pockets, performed a couple of cursory taps on the screen to pull up a filter commonly seen on Growlder. The filter was simple: it shuffled rapidly through repeating options of a beauty marks on the face. This ranged from the temple to the jaw to the side of the mouth. It was a bullseye mark for a kiss.
Well. Hwayoung was determined not to be chicken as Amaya so succintly put it. Embarrassingly, her partner had to pick her up (squatting was deemed illegal) to receive the chaste pecks that veered dangerously close to being actual real-life lip-on-lip action. Their cheeks were shockingly cold, like being doused in ice water, and acted as a wonderful anathema to the hot ethanol. Hwayoung had to brush back the fur-like hair to place a kiss on the brow, and offered a couple of bonus behind-the-ear scritches to the hearty delight of their audience. By the time they were done, her fellow joker was blushing a vivid violet and Hwayoung returned to Amaya's side beaming with pride.
Cards were flipped out. Hwayoung stared at hers again. Statstics was running a train on her tonight, and she went to show Amaya who was looking at her own card silently for an unnervingly long time. It was revealed with as much fanfare as a comedy-horror film. Hwayoung almost burst out laughing. It was almost too easy. Drinking wasn't even an option at this point.
Hwayoung welcomed Amaya back with a quick wiggle of her eyebrows. "Thanks for your hard work," she teased back as the other girl settled back down. It was through sheer dumb luck that she hadn't drawn the queen nor the jokers, either big or small. Some of the challenges were downright puerile while others had the potential for something greater. Surprisingly, very few participants opted to drink and having found some bravery in what liquor they had already imbibed, were absolutely party to the idea of pantsing each other and saying naughty words in steadily increasing volumes.
"Marine-predator-great-white-shark?" Hwayoung turned her gaze onto her best friend, a troubled look clouding her usually cheerful facade. "That's not very progressive of you." She didn't actually mind. Sharks were adorable until they got mad or hungry. It was the dolphins that were the butt-holes of the sea, always cosying up and pretending they were all that when really they just wanted to do unspeakable things to you. Like that one time with the sirens and that awful business with the coral reef and abandoned hermit crab shells.
The cards were dealt again by their host whose tail was waving more and more aggressively with every turn. It was clear, at least to Hwayoung, what her goal was. Amaya, on the other hand, really only had the ability to exude an obnoxiously attractive amount of confidence while somehow remaining as oblivious as ever. At least, that was what Hwayoung was picking up. Then again, she could not remember how many drinks she's had, as every time her cup went light, there was an immediate refill by some unknown face whose sole mission was to make sure everybody was having a good time and getting downright smashed.
So Hwayoung really couldn't be blamed when she had to peer incredibly hard at her cards. There was a funny looking cartoon jeering at her with a big funky hat. Amaya had spoken the statistics into existence. She revealed it to her friend almost immediately wordlessly while the unmistakable whoop of triumph meant the Red Queen discovered her throne - and the other jester jingle-jangled into existence by standing tall.
Hwayoung looked up. She had to crane her neck. Her joker friend had an unholy amount of height and muscle. They looked like they wrestled bears for fun. Hwayoung wanted to ask if they could do what the Queen wanted while sitting down, but she forgot how to word it without sounding very impolite so she ended up standing as well albeit shakily. She used Amaya's shoulder to steady herself while accidentally spilling some of that nondescript brown liquid on Seunghyu's rug. Sure she could get another one from Paris, Hwayoung wasn't feeling too guilty.
The monarch was deep in thought, conspiring with her court while Hwayoung looked at the other student with an exaggerated look of boredom. They grinned at her and shrugged, a motion that evoked the image of a tsunami. Finally, the decree was decided on by the senate (was that against the rules?). The Queen produced a cellphone despite having no pockets, performed a couple of cursory taps on the screen to pull up a filter commonly seen on Growlder. The filter was simple: it shuffled rapidly through repeating options of a beauty marks on the face. This ranged from the temple to the jaw to the side of the mouth. It was a bullseye mark for a kiss.
Well. Hwayoung was determined not to be chicken as Amaya so succintly put it. Embarrassingly, her partner had to pick her up (squatting was deemed illegal) to receive the chaste pecks that veered dangerously close to being actual real-life lip-on-lip action. Their cheeks were shockingly cold, like being doused in ice water, and acted as a wonderful anathema to the hot ethanol. Hwayoung had to brush back the fur-like hair to place a kiss on the brow, and offered a couple of bonus behind-the-ear scritches to the hearty delight of their audience. By the time they were done, her fellow joker was blushing a vivid violet and Hwayoung returned to Amaya's side beaming with pride.
"Boring!" Seunghyu said. Nobody was listening.
Cards were flipped out. Hwayoung stared at hers again. Statstics was running a train on her tonight, and she went to show Amaya who was looking at her own card silently for an unnervingly long time. It was revealed with as much fanfare as a comedy-horror film. Hwayoung almost burst out laughing. It was almost too easy. Drinking wasn't even an option at this point.
"And I'm the Queen!" Seunghyu ssi crowed in the background. Nobody was listening.
daf7a6 x 8ff4d9
OP
OP
- Joined
- Sep 9, 2015
- Location
- ʙᴀ ᴅᴜᴍ 𝙩𝙨𝙨
⦊ ωᴀᴛᴇʀ ⦉
Ear scritches.
A whole lot was happening - hollering students, blushing sasquatches (or, at least, that was Amaya’s best guess; there were really no polite ways to ask, you know?), and of course, kissing. But no, it was the ear scritches she focused on. Because not-quite-so-sober-Amaya had wanted ear scritches, but a-few-shades-darker-sasquatch (?) received ear scritches. That…that was just wrong, like how not telling the happily wagging dog that he's indeed the goodest boy is wrong. And so, the look she gave Hwayoung upon her return was more nuanced. An enthusiastic amount of you go girl to be sure, but intermeshed with the beginning of a please gibb ear scritches pout. At least, that was what she went for. What she actually conveyed was a matter never to be discussed with sober Amaya.
Before she might have a chance to pester Hwayoung for her share of ear scritches, the next round of cards were dealt. She saw Hwayoung’s card before her own, with the way her bestie promptly shared every card. It delighted her that Hwayoung seemed to be getting into it, because in her not so humble opinion, Hwayoung definitely needed to cut loose. That was practically Amaya’s personal mission. She just didn’t figure that the cutting loose would be with herself. It was, logically speaking, inevitable in a way given the nature of the game. It was probably something she should have had the foresight of seeing before inviting Hwayoung to this sort of thing. Evidently though, Amaya’s expertise in logic was lacking.
What she didn’t lack was the ability to attract the named cards. Some called it serendipity. Others, kismet. Still others dismissed it as sheer dumb luck. Either way, Seunghyu’s baby blue eyes were trained upon the fated/doomed pair, the same look a domestic feline might offer a pretty songbird trapped behind a filigree cage.
“Let’s kick it up a notch, shall we?” It was clear that Seunghyu already made up her mind, but she drew the suspense out anyway. Because she wanted to see certain someones sweat, or because she just wanted to be Queen for a moment longer, who can say. But she was leaning over to one of her friends, a fellow cat, only this one had actual whiskers that were trembling from the bout of giggles that seized her. Amaya’s ears twitched, doing their best radar impression, but even her keen hearing failed to pick up the muted conversation.
“Alright, Your Majesty, what spectacle might I offer?” She said mostly to fill the gap, because the wait was quite possibly more grueling than anything else. There was no particular rule that said the little joker had to be the recipient, even though that has been the trend thus far. In her mind, it would be infinitely easier for her to entertain.
“Actually,” Seunghyu smiled, a little too cheerfully, like she was privy to an inside joke or something. “You just sit there and look pretty.” Her gaze flicked over to Hwayoung, and that smile widened a fraction wider. The glint of fangs might have meant something to a human, but alas, practically half the students in attendance had bigger fangs than those. “We want her to perform, hmm~” There was that gap again; that gap was killing her, man. “How about a lapdance?” She held up her phone, bedazzled front and back, surprise surprise, “We’ll let Stripify pick the song.”
Amaya looked to Hwayoung, her near permanent grin growing a tad too stiff. This certainly wouldn't be the first time - not even the second time - that she had been the recipient of similar attention, but the thought of that, with Hwayoung, it was… Huh. Damn, she most definitely drank too much. Some uncharacteristic nervousness aside, she found herself almost strangely excited by the idea. Which was just way too much for drunk Amaya to process, and so she stuffed it into a box markednever later and moved right along.
She wasn’t going to suggest drinking. No ma’am. Amaya Frostfall never chickened out from dares. That would be un-wulfenkin of her! But she would, if Hwayoung wanted to. Because Hwayoung was her bestest friend. Her bestest friend whom she was seriously contemplating receiving a lapdance from. Her brain just could not compute, and so, she left the choice open. “Knock one down or knock ‘em dead, what’s your poison?”
A whole lot was happening - hollering students, blushing sasquatches (or, at least, that was Amaya’s best guess; there were really no polite ways to ask, you know?), and of course, kissing. But no, it was the ear scritches she focused on. Because not-quite-so-sober-Amaya had wanted ear scritches, but a-few-shades-darker-sasquatch (?) received ear scritches. That…that was just wrong, like how not telling the happily wagging dog that he's indeed the goodest boy is wrong. And so, the look she gave Hwayoung upon her return was more nuanced. An enthusiastic amount of you go girl to be sure, but intermeshed with the beginning of a please gibb ear scritches pout. At least, that was what she went for. What she actually conveyed was a matter never to be discussed with sober Amaya.
Before she might have a chance to pester Hwayoung for her share of ear scritches, the next round of cards were dealt. She saw Hwayoung’s card before her own, with the way her bestie promptly shared every card. It delighted her that Hwayoung seemed to be getting into it, because in her not so humble opinion, Hwayoung definitely needed to cut loose. That was practically Amaya’s personal mission. She just didn’t figure that the cutting loose would be with herself. It was, logically speaking, inevitable in a way given the nature of the game. It was probably something she should have had the foresight of seeing before inviting Hwayoung to this sort of thing. Evidently though, Amaya’s expertise in logic was lacking.
What she didn’t lack was the ability to attract the named cards. Some called it serendipity. Others, kismet. Still others dismissed it as sheer dumb luck. Either way, Seunghyu’s baby blue eyes were trained upon the fated/doomed pair, the same look a domestic feline might offer a pretty songbird trapped behind a filigree cage.
“Let’s kick it up a notch, shall we?” It was clear that Seunghyu already made up her mind, but she drew the suspense out anyway. Because she wanted to see certain someones sweat, or because she just wanted to be Queen for a moment longer, who can say. But she was leaning over to one of her friends, a fellow cat, only this one had actual whiskers that were trembling from the bout of giggles that seized her. Amaya’s ears twitched, doing their best radar impression, but even her keen hearing failed to pick up the muted conversation.
“Alright, Your Majesty, what spectacle might I offer?” She said mostly to fill the gap, because the wait was quite possibly more grueling than anything else. There was no particular rule that said the little joker had to be the recipient, even though that has been the trend thus far. In her mind, it would be infinitely easier for her to entertain.
“Actually,” Seunghyu smiled, a little too cheerfully, like she was privy to an inside joke or something. “You just sit there and look pretty.” Her gaze flicked over to Hwayoung, and that smile widened a fraction wider. The glint of fangs might have meant something to a human, but alas, practically half the students in attendance had bigger fangs than those. “We want her to perform, hmm~” There was that gap again; that gap was killing her, man. “How about a lapdance?” She held up her phone, bedazzled front and back, surprise surprise, “We’ll let Stripify pick the song.”
Amaya looked to Hwayoung, her near permanent grin growing a tad too stiff. This certainly wouldn't be the first time - not even the second time - that she had been the recipient of similar attention, but the thought of that, with Hwayoung, it was… Huh. Damn, she most definitely drank too much. Some uncharacteristic nervousness aside, she found herself almost strangely excited by the idea. Which was just way too much for drunk Amaya to process, and so she stuffed it into a box marked
She wasn’t going to suggest drinking. No ma’am. Amaya Frostfall never chickened out from dares. That would be un-wulfenkin of her! But she would, if Hwayoung wanted to. Because Hwayoung was her bestest friend. Her bestest friend whom she was seriously contemplating receiving a lapdance from. Her brain just could not compute, and so, she left the choice open. “Knock one down or knock ‘em dead, what’s your poison?”
sorayeon
waiting for your smoke signal
- Joined
- Jun 18, 2021
- Location
- the clouds
so i pour another shot,
and i pretend that it's your lips -
chase down another round
until i taste your whiskey kiss -
tomorrow tonight, Loote
and i pretend that it's your lips -
chase down another round
until i taste your whiskey kiss -
tomorrow tonight, Loote
Hwayoung did not notice Amaya's baleful gaze, too happy with herself to understand that complex cloud of emotion. The expression continued to go unnoticed because her attention was on the card, her friend, the Queen and the floor her jaw was touching. An exaggeration, but her lips were definitely parted into a soft o when the order came. The raised phone was just the hangman's noose, and she felt like a prisoner being escorted to the stand.
A lapdance?
Hwayoung's frazzled brain tried its best to decipher this strange code. This familiar word that, from the sum of its parts, pointed to something truly dastardly. A part of her thought it might be healthier to separate the two syllables for easier digestion. Lap, to lick at or the area between the waist and knees of someone sitting down generally. Dance, to move one's body usually in tandem with music. Lapdance, to squirm with embarrassing enthusiasm in front of and on an individual, a transaction that usually involved a sum of money.
The initial thought was jarring. Having an audience weighed heavily against performing this act of indecency. But the more she thought about it, the longer she stared at Amaya, the more she was warming up to the idea. Hwayoung chalked it up to the stifling heat or the alcohol that was sitting pretty in her stomach. She blamed it on that dress Amaya wore too, and she blamed herself for not suggesting a plain turtleneck. In the background, their monarch giggled in tandem with her court as they scrolled through song after song.
So much for leaving it to Stripify.
Taking one last shot for the road wasn't an option, which Hwayoung mourned greatly as she set her drink aside. The songs continued to change at lightning speed, shuffling between R&B, lofi jazz, to straight up rap. In the space between, Hwayoung steeled her nerves and rose to her knees to shuffle the short distance between her and her fellow joker-at-arms. Hwayoung was incredibly aware of the fabric of her borrowed top as it rustled against her skin. She reached up to pass her fingers lightly over the furred velvet of those expressive ears, abusing the fact that they were also hyper-sensitive.
The skirt made it easy for her to straddle Amaya, who was looking at her with an expression she definitely could not puzzle out. Nor did she want to, and in her haste to avoid it, quickly took Amaya's hand and guided it to the small of her back. For support, Hwayoung told herself firmly. For the game. Thirty seconds, that's all she needed and besides. Amaya was her best friend. If she didn't understand, who would?
Seunghyu's crow of satisfaction was but a dull buzz as Hwayoung's mismatched eyes met the other girl's intense stare. Amaya was, well, hot. Anyone who said otherwise was either delusional or into men. The broad slopes of her muscular shoulders gave way to firm but deceptively soft skin, and it was here Hwayoung did not let her eyes drop lower. To do so was to invite disaster into these sacred halls.
She swallowed, wetting her lips, opened her mouth to speak, to somehow erase any unease or awkwardness but she was quickly drowned out by the sudden croon of a new tune over every single speaker in the apartment. Hwayoung strongly suspected this was not a random choice, but she was committed. Amaya's lap wasn't.. uncomfortable. It was warm and familiar; the lights were sufficiently dimmed. It was enough.
Hwayoung moved. Slowly at first, her hands sliding down from the ears to the back of Amaya's neck, letting them linger there as the music ramped up. She followed the shape of her companion's shoulders, down her biceps all the way to the wrist then back up again. Her hips began their slow movement, shifting in tandem with the low pulse of the lights and bass, rocking gently against the flat plane of Amaya's stomach. Her skirt slid up her thigh, revealing a strip of smooth skin dusted with scale-like freckles that scattered down past the knee-high stockings. Hwayoung couldn't tell if her friend was still holding her.
A palm trailed down the thin fabric of Amaya's top, hooking her finger on the edge teasingly before falling to press up against her bared belly. The heat was intense, achingly so. Her fins were blushing, her eyes lidded, her breaths coming heavier with every pass. She thought she might say something. Should have said something. What happened instead was Hwayoung leaning closer and cupping Amaya's cheek and jaw with a cool hand, nudging it so close that an errant breeze would press their lips together.
A lapdance?
Hwayoung's frazzled brain tried its best to decipher this strange code. This familiar word that, from the sum of its parts, pointed to something truly dastardly. A part of her thought it might be healthier to separate the two syllables for easier digestion. Lap, to lick at or the area between the waist and knees of someone sitting down generally. Dance, to move one's body usually in tandem with music. Lapdance, to squirm with embarrassing enthusiasm in front of and on an individual, a transaction that usually involved a sum of money.
The initial thought was jarring. Having an audience weighed heavily against performing this act of indecency. But the more she thought about it, the longer she stared at Amaya, the more she was warming up to the idea. Hwayoung chalked it up to the stifling heat or the alcohol that was sitting pretty in her stomach. She blamed it on that dress Amaya wore too, and she blamed herself for not suggesting a plain turtleneck. In the background, their monarch giggled in tandem with her court as they scrolled through song after song.
So much for leaving it to Stripify.
Taking one last shot for the road wasn't an option, which Hwayoung mourned greatly as she set her drink aside. The songs continued to change at lightning speed, shuffling between R&B, lofi jazz, to straight up rap. In the space between, Hwayoung steeled her nerves and rose to her knees to shuffle the short distance between her and her fellow joker-at-arms. Hwayoung was incredibly aware of the fabric of her borrowed top as it rustled against her skin. She reached up to pass her fingers lightly over the furred velvet of those expressive ears, abusing the fact that they were also hyper-sensitive.
The skirt made it easy for her to straddle Amaya, who was looking at her with an expression she definitely could not puzzle out. Nor did she want to, and in her haste to avoid it, quickly took Amaya's hand and guided it to the small of her back. For support, Hwayoung told herself firmly. For the game. Thirty seconds, that's all she needed and besides. Amaya was her best friend. If she didn't understand, who would?
Seunghyu's crow of satisfaction was but a dull buzz as Hwayoung's mismatched eyes met the other girl's intense stare. Amaya was, well, hot. Anyone who said otherwise was either delusional or into men. The broad slopes of her muscular shoulders gave way to firm but deceptively soft skin, and it was here Hwayoung did not let her eyes drop lower. To do so was to invite disaster into these sacred halls.
She swallowed, wetting her lips, opened her mouth to speak, to somehow erase any unease or awkwardness but she was quickly drowned out by the sudden croon of a new tune over every single speaker in the apartment. Hwayoung strongly suspected this was not a random choice, but she was committed. Amaya's lap wasn't.. uncomfortable. It was warm and familiar; the lights were sufficiently dimmed. It was enough.
Hwayoung moved. Slowly at first, her hands sliding down from the ears to the back of Amaya's neck, letting them linger there as the music ramped up. She followed the shape of her companion's shoulders, down her biceps all the way to the wrist then back up again. Her hips began their slow movement, shifting in tandem with the low pulse of the lights and bass, rocking gently against the flat plane of Amaya's stomach. Her skirt slid up her thigh, revealing a strip of smooth skin dusted with scale-like freckles that scattered down past the knee-high stockings. Hwayoung couldn't tell if her friend was still holding her.
A palm trailed down the thin fabric of Amaya's top, hooking her finger on the edge teasingly before falling to press up against her bared belly. The heat was intense, achingly so. Her fins were blushing, her eyes lidded, her breaths coming heavier with every pass. She thought she might say something. Should have said something. What happened instead was Hwayoung leaning closer and cupping Amaya's cheek and jaw with a cool hand, nudging it so close that an errant breeze would press their lips together.
daf7a6 x 8ff4d9
OP
OP
- Joined
- Sep 9, 2015
- Location
- ʙᴀ ᴅᴜᴍ 𝙩𝙨𝙨
⦊ ωᴀᴛᴇʀ ⦉
That ever emotive tail seized, jerkily, forgetting the rhythm of that near constant tap tap tap in the same way its owner’s brain forgot how thoughts worked. Truthfully, Amaya didn't think Hwayoung would actually go through with this game. Her throat bobbed with uncertainty as a scale-dusted thigh was thrown over her legs. Lips parted with telltale shock before she gamely pressed them into a thin line. An inhale now, slow, shaky, almost like she was afraid to take the breath. Which was just absurd because Amaya was never afraid. Or nervous. Or any number of adjectives that most definitely did not describe the wulfenkin’s current mental state whatsoever.
She blamed the whiskey for the illicit thrill electrifying her nerves when Hwayoung settled her weight down. The proximity wasn't a big deal. Amaya considered herself the physically affectionate sort, and it really wasn't all that unusual for her to have both arms thrown over Hwayoung's shoulders, claiming those soft thighs as pillows, or otherwise eradicating all notions of personal space. But never like this, face to face, close enough that she could see the subtle flush coloring fair skin, watch the stray lights bounce upon silvery locks, and smell the lingering dredges of alcohol.
Hwayoung was objectively attractive, emphasis on the objective part. Because Hwayoung's beauty was the sort of thing Amaya never ruminated on nor analyzed too carefully; it wasn't relevant to their friendship. And that was just the thing, there existed a clear demarcation to friendship.
Hwayoung was the girl she gifted finger-painted turkeys to, exchanged funny animal gifs with, and ugly cried together after getting way too caught up while binge watching melodrama (which, if anyone asked, never happened). Hwayoung had her own section in Amaya's unofficial list of favorite things about anything and everything. Came fully decked out with a fancy BFF label and all.
Hwayoung was not the girl she held by the small of back, mapping out the soft skin there with her thumb. Not the girl she subconsciously flexed her arms for beneath an investigative touch, a tension mirrored in the uncertain crick of her jaw and the tightness of her abs. And, beyond all else - and this was important! - Hwayoung was not a piece of tail she chased, not a warm body she cozied up with for the night only to promptly move on from a mere week after, not a pleasing but forgettable memory. As for the why, Amaya couldn’t remember. Coherent thoughts were an impossibility when hips bore down against hers, breath puffing so close that she could no longer tell where it began and where it ended.
Any other time, and perhaps she would have gone for a bold squeeze upon the rear, taken control of those gyrating hips, and offered a breathless compliment of the utterly depraved variety. But this, the dimmed light, the song, that it was Hwayoung… there was an intimacy inlaid with the eroticism that she could not deny. There was her pulse two beats too fast, her tail swishing back and forth with agitation, and her poor, sloshed mind trying its very best to reboot after Amaya.exe crashed.
Worse, groan-worthy-oh-god-no worse still, was that whether or not she was willing to acknowledge that Hwayoung’s attractiveness went beyond mere objective standards to herself, certain parts of her were far more honest. Amaya might have been mortified if she were even a smidgen more sober. As it were, she thanked whatever deity might listen that she opted for such tight jeans. Surely, with coarse denim as a buffer, Hwayoung wouldn’t notice just how much this affected her.
A thought Amaya did not get to linger on, because those radiant eyes were suddenly closer. Vibrant and golden, like whiskey on ice. Sprinkled with a primitive emotion she felt in great abundance but dared not name. Outlined in white or ink, it didn’t matter; both were fascinating, made all the more so by the combination thereof. A gold so achingly pure that she could almost see the reflection of her own eyes, the way that her own pupils were blown with arousal, the usually spirited crimson darkening to swirling burgundy.
She swallowed, her gaze drooped, tracing the curve of lips so close to her own. When did they get there? Her arms tightened reflectively around Hwayoung’s waist, pulling her even closer. A heartbeat, two, this was incredibly unfair. It was a well known fact that Amaya’s inability to resist temptation was second only to her inability to pay attention in class. There…there was a reason why she was not supposed to kiss this beautiful girl, right? But, between the alcohol and the increasing lack of blood flow to her brain, that reason was as far gone from her mind as the other occupants of this room.
Amaya bridged the gap, severed that friendship line, and kissed Hwayoung like it was the most important thing in the world. The only thing in the world.
This wasn’t the ending of a drama though, meaning, there was in fact a next day. A next day that arrived in the form of a phone alarm going off. Amaya, lost to the land of slumber, groaned and tried to bury her head deeper into the blankets, as if the same might somehow spare her sensitive ears. Smells good. Thoughts rolled in sluggishly, and as she slowly came to, a dreadful hangover seized her in its wicked talons, conjuring forth a whine. But wait, this wasn’t what her bed smelled like. And this pile of blankets (?) was distinctively too soft and too…um, not blanket shaped. She woke with a start, and became immediately aware of three very important things. (1) This was in fact her room. (2) This was not her bed. (3) By process of elimination…
Amaya scrambled up fast enough that she almost got tangled in the blankets and tripped; as it were, it was a near miss. Breathe in. Breathe out. Her jeans were a crumpled mess on the ground, but she still had on a pair of boyshorts and her bra. That was…good? Bad? Fragmented memories drifted in along with a pounding headache, enough to make her wince, and that blasted alarm was still going off somewhere. She remembered the party, beer pong, the beginning of a drinking game and -- Oh. Oh.
Her eyes widened several degrees and that fluffy tail uprighted and stiffened with shock. She buried her palm into the root of her hair, attempting in vain to pacify the headache even as she assessed that vaguely lumpy blanket shape. With as much grace as a wolf recovering from a tranquilizer shot, she managed:
“Good…morning?”
She blamed the whiskey for the illicit thrill electrifying her nerves when Hwayoung settled her weight down. The proximity wasn't a big deal. Amaya considered herself the physically affectionate sort, and it really wasn't all that unusual for her to have both arms thrown over Hwayoung's shoulders, claiming those soft thighs as pillows, or otherwise eradicating all notions of personal space. But never like this, face to face, close enough that she could see the subtle flush coloring fair skin, watch the stray lights bounce upon silvery locks, and smell the lingering dredges of alcohol.
Hwayoung was objectively attractive, emphasis on the objective part. Because Hwayoung's beauty was the sort of thing Amaya never ruminated on nor analyzed too carefully; it wasn't relevant to their friendship. And that was just the thing, there existed a clear demarcation to friendship.
Hwayoung was the girl she gifted finger-painted turkeys to, exchanged funny animal gifs with, and ugly cried together after getting way too caught up while binge watching melodrama (which, if anyone asked, never happened). Hwayoung had her own section in Amaya's unofficial list of favorite things about anything and everything. Came fully decked out with a fancy BFF label and all.
Hwayoung was not the girl she held by the small of back, mapping out the soft skin there with her thumb. Not the girl she subconsciously flexed her arms for beneath an investigative touch, a tension mirrored in the uncertain crick of her jaw and the tightness of her abs. And, beyond all else - and this was important! - Hwayoung was not a piece of tail she chased, not a warm body she cozied up with for the night only to promptly move on from a mere week after, not a pleasing but forgettable memory. As for the why, Amaya couldn’t remember. Coherent thoughts were an impossibility when hips bore down against hers, breath puffing so close that she could no longer tell where it began and where it ended.
Any other time, and perhaps she would have gone for a bold squeeze upon the rear, taken control of those gyrating hips, and offered a breathless compliment of the utterly depraved variety. But this, the dimmed light, the song, that it was Hwayoung… there was an intimacy inlaid with the eroticism that she could not deny. There was her pulse two beats too fast, her tail swishing back and forth with agitation, and her poor, sloshed mind trying its very best to reboot after Amaya.exe crashed.
Worse, groan-worthy-oh-god-no worse still, was that whether or not she was willing to acknowledge that Hwayoung’s attractiveness went beyond mere objective standards to herself, certain parts of her were far more honest. Amaya might have been mortified if she were even a smidgen more sober. As it were, she thanked whatever deity might listen that she opted for such tight jeans. Surely, with coarse denim as a buffer, Hwayoung wouldn’t notice just how much this affected her.
A thought Amaya did not get to linger on, because those radiant eyes were suddenly closer. Vibrant and golden, like whiskey on ice. Sprinkled with a primitive emotion she felt in great abundance but dared not name. Outlined in white or ink, it didn’t matter; both were fascinating, made all the more so by the combination thereof. A gold so achingly pure that she could almost see the reflection of her own eyes, the way that her own pupils were blown with arousal, the usually spirited crimson darkening to swirling burgundy.
She swallowed, her gaze drooped, tracing the curve of lips so close to her own. When did they get there? Her arms tightened reflectively around Hwayoung’s waist, pulling her even closer. A heartbeat, two, this was incredibly unfair. It was a well known fact that Amaya’s inability to resist temptation was second only to her inability to pay attention in class. There…there was a reason why she was not supposed to kiss this beautiful girl, right? But, between the alcohol and the increasing lack of blood flow to her brain, that reason was as far gone from her mind as the other occupants of this room.
Amaya bridged the gap, severed that friendship line, and kissed Hwayoung like it was the most important thing in the world. The only thing in the world.
This wasn’t the ending of a drama though, meaning, there was in fact a next day. A next day that arrived in the form of a phone alarm going off. Amaya, lost to the land of slumber, groaned and tried to bury her head deeper into the blankets, as if the same might somehow spare her sensitive ears. Smells good. Thoughts rolled in sluggishly, and as she slowly came to, a dreadful hangover seized her in its wicked talons, conjuring forth a whine. But wait, this wasn’t what her bed smelled like. And this pile of blankets (?) was distinctively too soft and too…um, not blanket shaped. She woke with a start, and became immediately aware of three very important things. (1) This was in fact her room. (2) This was not her bed. (3) By process of elimination…
Amaya scrambled up fast enough that she almost got tangled in the blankets and tripped; as it were, it was a near miss. Breathe in. Breathe out. Her jeans were a crumpled mess on the ground, but she still had on a pair of boyshorts and her bra. That was…good? Bad? Fragmented memories drifted in along with a pounding headache, enough to make her wince, and that blasted alarm was still going off somewhere. She remembered the party, beer pong, the beginning of a drinking game and -- Oh. Oh.
Her eyes widened several degrees and that fluffy tail uprighted and stiffened with shock. She buried her palm into the root of her hair, attempting in vain to pacify the headache even as she assessed that vaguely lumpy blanket shape. With as much grace as a wolf recovering from a tranquilizer shot, she managed:
“Good…morning?”
Last edited:
sorayeon
waiting for your smoke signal
- Joined
- Jun 18, 2021
- Location
- the clouds
so i pour another shot,
and i pretend that it's your lips -
chase down another round
until i taste your whiskey kiss -
tomorrow tonight, Loote
and i pretend that it's your lips -
chase down another round
until i taste your whiskey kiss -
tomorrow tonight, Loote
Try as she might, Hwayoung could not quite excavate an explanation from the rocky bed of her brain. That part of her, the un-evolved fish part that still needed gills to breathe and lacked thumbs and hands to grasp simple concepts, had long since succumbed to instinct. She was no longer in control of her higher functions. Hwayoung was running hot all over, her cheeks cherry-red and flushed at the multi-points of her finned ears. It was made only slightly worse because she was really very aware of the persistent nudge against her thigh every time she bore her hips down. Skin on skin, pulse to pulse. She didn't hate it, she was just surprised.
In fact, thirty seconds had long since passed. Hwayoung knew this because she had counted to thirty in her head then stopped when she hit it. Seunghyu ssi thought it couldn't be done. Hell, Hwayoung thought it couldn't be done. Not until she had sat herself square in Amaya's lap about a minute ago, and in an instant knew that it very much could be done. It could be done because Hwayoung knew Amaya would be affected and worse still, Hwayoung only felt half-guilty for unwittingly preying on automatic part of caveman instinct. The other half was taking a vacation southward, the tingling at her core threatening to expose thoughts Hwayoung thought she'd long since laid to rest.
That Amaya wasn't just some girl, but some girl with extremely attractive legs, some girl she'd laughed and cried with too many times to count. The girl who was more street smart than book smart but was easily the most intelligent person Hwayoung ever had the pleasure of befriending, who was more bark than bite but would bite, out of principal. The concept of being something more wasn't new - Hwayoung had wondered before, multiple times, what it would be like. It was a completely innocent what-if that did not go beyond the girlish notion of a first crush and names book-ended with gel-pen hearts.
But Hwayoung had also never looked at Amaya this way before, not even when they were clutching hands beneath the sheets at night whispering about the inconsequential. She's never looked at Amaya with such fire banked in her eyes, eyes meant only for the girl who knew so much and wanted all the same. Amaya's touch was electrifying, her whiskey-infused breath sharp, strong and sweet against her warm lips. Someone was saying something in the background, the music long-since shuffling into another ARMY favorite.
Hwayoung thought she was doing this to prove that it didn't matter. Amaya was her best friend, her childhood pal. It didn't matter. It didn't.
What happened the night before didn't matter. When Hwayoung woke up, she was paralyzed from the stark pain ripping through her skull and the gut feeling of impending doom, as if waking from a bad dream. The sheets stuck to her sweaty skin uncomfortable and her eyes were gummed from her restless sleep. She did not need to have a three-step notification pinging incessantly at her; alarm, bed, where. Hwayoung was aware, instantly, that she was not alone. There was that slightly deeper dip in her bed, the way her blankets did not quite cover all of her legs and feet, the (un)familiar warmth. There were the memories, pouring forth like too much wine, too much whiskey, sieved through the relentless hangover.
Hwayoung stayed completely still as Amaya sussed the situation and all but vaulted away. She would have held her breath, but her heart was beating too fast and she couldn't afford passing out right now, financially. Emotionally, bring on the stretcher. She desperately wanted some water. She wanted to roll over and disintegrate. She wanted to go back to sleep. She had classes! It was too late. Amaya's voice was muffled over the thick canopy of cotton sheets, Hwayoung heard it loud and clear. It was a hesitant question and one that inspired little courage. The hospital was sounding more attractive by the passing second.
But this was Amaya! Surely they could laugh this off. Like the time Hwayoung had accidentally walked in on her butt-naked stepping into the shower, goods on display. They had a talk and a chuckle, and moved on. This was no different, right? Hwayoung touched her lips with her fingertips, recalling the softness, thinking too hard on the lightning strike of realizations. She couldn't pretend to be asleep anymore. She shuffled herself up, popping her head out slightly for a breath of fresh air.
"Is it? Is it a good morning?" Hwayoung grumbled cheerily, rubbing the heel of her palm so hard against her eye she saw white spots. She felt as if someone had taken an ice-pick to her temple and botched a lobotomy. She was as unclothed as Amaya was, clad in a singlet and her own shorts she'd worn beneath her skirt. The stockings had gone for a walk on their own, and she didn't know if she would see them again.
She reached for her phone, swiping away the low battery popup. There, right in front of her, was a picture sitting pretty on her recent feed. In her inbreited state, she somehow thought it was a fantastic idea to pull up Blinksta of all apps. Their party host was in the foreground, throwing up a peace sign and looking absolutely smashed, her arm slung around one of her friends. Hwayoung's eyes were glued to what was in the background, clear as day. It was her, in the flesh, sitting tight on Amaya's lap, lips locked like the world was about to end. A strangled sound escaped her throat, a weak laugh cut short with disbelief.
Hoping her emotions were schooled, Hwayoung managed to smile, flashing her fangs as she struggled up. Her pale hair fell soft down her shoulders and the slim ski slope of her shoulder. Her phone was put face down. "I don't think we left before 12, but that's on me. Seunghyu ssi must be fuming right now."
In fact, thirty seconds had long since passed. Hwayoung knew this because she had counted to thirty in her head then stopped when she hit it. Seunghyu ssi thought it couldn't be done. Hell, Hwayoung thought it couldn't be done. Not until she had sat herself square in Amaya's lap about a minute ago, and in an instant knew that it very much could be done. It could be done because Hwayoung knew Amaya would be affected and worse still, Hwayoung only felt half-guilty for unwittingly preying on automatic part of caveman instinct. The other half was taking a vacation southward, the tingling at her core threatening to expose thoughts Hwayoung thought she'd long since laid to rest.
That Amaya wasn't just some girl, but some girl with extremely attractive legs, some girl she'd laughed and cried with too many times to count. The girl who was more street smart than book smart but was easily the most intelligent person Hwayoung ever had the pleasure of befriending, who was more bark than bite but would bite, out of principal. The concept of being something more wasn't new - Hwayoung had wondered before, multiple times, what it would be like. It was a completely innocent what-if that did not go beyond the girlish notion of a first crush and names book-ended with gel-pen hearts.
But Hwayoung had also never looked at Amaya this way before, not even when they were clutching hands beneath the sheets at night whispering about the inconsequential. She's never looked at Amaya with such fire banked in her eyes, eyes meant only for the girl who knew so much and wanted all the same. Amaya's touch was electrifying, her whiskey-infused breath sharp, strong and sweet against her warm lips. Someone was saying something in the background, the music long-since shuffling into another ARMY favorite.
Hwayoung thought she was doing this to prove that it didn't matter. Amaya was her best friend, her childhood pal. It didn't matter. It didn't.
Before she knew it, she was kissing Amaya back.
What happened the night before didn't matter. When Hwayoung woke up, she was paralyzed from the stark pain ripping through her skull and the gut feeling of impending doom, as if waking from a bad dream. The sheets stuck to her sweaty skin uncomfortable and her eyes were gummed from her restless sleep. She did not need to have a three-step notification pinging incessantly at her; alarm, bed, where. Hwayoung was aware, instantly, that she was not alone. There was that slightly deeper dip in her bed, the way her blankets did not quite cover all of her legs and feet, the (un)familiar warmth. There were the memories, pouring forth like too much wine, too much whiskey, sieved through the relentless hangover.
Hwayoung stayed completely still as Amaya sussed the situation and all but vaulted away. She would have held her breath, but her heart was beating too fast and she couldn't afford passing out right now, financially. Emotionally, bring on the stretcher. She desperately wanted some water. She wanted to roll over and disintegrate. She wanted to go back to sleep. She had classes! It was too late. Amaya's voice was muffled over the thick canopy of cotton sheets, Hwayoung heard it loud and clear. It was a hesitant question and one that inspired little courage. The hospital was sounding more attractive by the passing second.
But this was Amaya! Surely they could laugh this off. Like the time Hwayoung had accidentally walked in on her butt-naked stepping into the shower, goods on display. They had a talk and a chuckle, and moved on. This was no different, right? Hwayoung touched her lips with her fingertips, recalling the softness, thinking too hard on the lightning strike of realizations. She couldn't pretend to be asleep anymore. She shuffled herself up, popping her head out slightly for a breath of fresh air.
"Is it? Is it a good morning?" Hwayoung grumbled cheerily, rubbing the heel of her palm so hard against her eye she saw white spots. She felt as if someone had taken an ice-pick to her temple and botched a lobotomy. She was as unclothed as Amaya was, clad in a singlet and her own shorts she'd worn beneath her skirt. The stockings had gone for a walk on their own, and she didn't know if she would see them again.
She reached for her phone, swiping away the low battery popup. There, right in front of her, was a picture sitting pretty on her recent feed. In her inbreited state, she somehow thought it was a fantastic idea to pull up Blinksta of all apps. Their party host was in the foreground, throwing up a peace sign and looking absolutely smashed, her arm slung around one of her friends. Hwayoung's eyes were glued to what was in the background, clear as day. It was her, in the flesh, sitting tight on Amaya's lap, lips locked like the world was about to end. A strangled sound escaped her throat, a weak laugh cut short with disbelief.
Hoping her emotions were schooled, Hwayoung managed to smile, flashing her fangs as she struggled up. Her pale hair fell soft down her shoulders and the slim ski slope of her shoulder. Her phone was put face down. "I don't think we left before 12, but that's on me. Seunghyu ssi must be fuming right now."
Still feeling incredibly awkward, she sighed dramatically. "This will be the first time I've missed class because of a party."
daf7a6 x 8ff4d9
Last edited:
OP
OP
- Joined
- Sep 9, 2015
- Location
- ʙᴀ ᴅᴜᴍ 𝙩𝙨𝙨
⦊ ωᴀᴛᴇʀ ⦉
“Seunghyu sunbae, fuming? Why?” Amaya latched onto the snippet, grateful for literally any conversation topic except the elephant in the room. Wait, was there an elephant in the room? She studied Hwayoung out of her periphery, turning away and making her way over to her desk. Other than looking as miserable as Amaya felt, Hwayoung did not otherwise look perturbed about any potential elephants. Or so Amaya thought. Her ability to read faces was a far cry from spectacular. She fetched a water pitcher, one of those plastic supermarket ones with replaceable filters. Not because she was particularly environmentally conscious, but because bottled waters were well out of her price range. Pouring herself a glass, she chugged it in record speed. Aqua vitae - she was calling BS on that one, because it definitely felt like the overabundance of distilled spirits she consumed a night prior cost her a life rather than inspiring the same.
Locating her electric kettle, she started the process of boiling water, before hunting down her roommate’s mug and topping that off as well. Mug in hand, Amaya was on the verge of turning around before she paused. Hm. Hm. The sudden and stark realization that she was severely underdressed struck her the same way as an invisible fence. Now, this was nothing unusual. Her gym attire seldom consisted of more than a sports bra and short shorts. Hell, when Hwayoung wasn’t around, a towel was appropriate post-shower wear as far as Amaya was concerned. But now, she was self-conscious of the way those boyshorts hugged her rear, leaving her toned legs to fend for themselves, and that was without mentioning how little was left to the imagination on the front. Without conscious thought, her tail curled around her waist, a misguided attempt at modesty. And then, realizing how absurd that looked, she schooled it back into a low swish, mentally chiding it to behave before resuming her mantra that absolutely nothing was wrong at all.
Because technically, technically, Hwayoung had seen her naked before. So really, there was absolutely no reason to suddenly fret over near-nudity. “Still baffles me that you go to all your classes, even the ones that don’t take attendance.” Amaya snarked as she made her way back over to Hwayoung’s bed, attempting her utmost to imitate normal-Amaya-behaviors. That was a safe topic, right? Why was she so bloody sheepish all of a sudden anyway? Hello, wulfenkin, wolf. Sheep was literally the opposite of that. Even when she woke up in near strangers’ beds, she had been more than content to stretch out and, more often than not, drum up support for a morning quickie. Or maybe that was the issue. They most certainly hadn’t gone that far. Her memories were blurrier than she liked, but she would have remembered that. Besides, the surreptitious glances she stole reassured her of a complete absence of marks on Hwayoung’s neck and collar. Which, given Amaya’s usual tendencies, would have been an impossibility.
That was the wrong thing to think about though. A jolt of heat interrupted her thoughts and her stomach clenched unhelpfully. So, absolutely not thinking about that. No ma'am. Amaya all but shoved the mug at Hwayoung, before adding, rather gruffly. “I’m making tea. Ginger and lemon. Helps with hangovers.” She would know; temperance was not a virtue of hers. “Want some?” Should have left it at that. Shoulda woulda coulda, but apparently awkwardness was contagious. Her ears flattened back against her skull, and she added far too quickly. "Tea, I mean. Shall I brew you a cup?"
Locating her electric kettle, she started the process of boiling water, before hunting down her roommate’s mug and topping that off as well. Mug in hand, Amaya was on the verge of turning around before she paused. Hm. Hm. The sudden and stark realization that she was severely underdressed struck her the same way as an invisible fence. Now, this was nothing unusual. Her gym attire seldom consisted of more than a sports bra and short shorts. Hell, when Hwayoung wasn’t around, a towel was appropriate post-shower wear as far as Amaya was concerned. But now, she was self-conscious of the way those boyshorts hugged her rear, leaving her toned legs to fend for themselves, and that was without mentioning how little was left to the imagination on the front. Without conscious thought, her tail curled around her waist, a misguided attempt at modesty. And then, realizing how absurd that looked, she schooled it back into a low swish, mentally chiding it to behave before resuming her mantra that absolutely nothing was wrong at all.
Because technically, technically, Hwayoung had seen her naked before. So really, there was absolutely no reason to suddenly fret over near-nudity. “Still baffles me that you go to all your classes, even the ones that don’t take attendance.” Amaya snarked as she made her way back over to Hwayoung’s bed, attempting her utmost to imitate normal-Amaya-behaviors. That was a safe topic, right? Why was she so bloody sheepish all of a sudden anyway? Hello, wulfenkin, wolf. Sheep was literally the opposite of that. Even when she woke up in near strangers’ beds, she had been more than content to stretch out and, more often than not, drum up support for a morning quickie. Or maybe that was the issue. They most certainly hadn’t gone that far. Her memories were blurrier than she liked, but she would have remembered that. Besides, the surreptitious glances she stole reassured her of a complete absence of marks on Hwayoung’s neck and collar. Which, given Amaya’s usual tendencies, would have been an impossibility.
That was the wrong thing to think about though. A jolt of heat interrupted her thoughts and her stomach clenched unhelpfully. So, absolutely not thinking about that. No ma'am. Amaya all but shoved the mug at Hwayoung, before adding, rather gruffly. “I’m making tea. Ginger and lemon. Helps with hangovers.” She would know; temperance was not a virtue of hers. “Want some?” Should have left it at that. Shoulda woulda coulda, but apparently awkwardness was contagious. Her ears flattened back against her skull, and she added far too quickly. "Tea, I mean. Shall I brew you a cup?"
sorayeon
waiting for your smoke signal
- Joined
- Jun 18, 2021
- Location
- the clouds
so i pour another shot,
and i pretend that it's your lips -
chase down another round
until i taste your whiskey kiss -
tomorrow tonight, Loote
and i pretend that it's your lips -
chase down another round
until i taste your whiskey kiss -
tomorrow tonight, Loote
"Just a feeling."
Hwayoung watched with fascination as her best friend underwent the five stages of grief right before her eyes. It was like pressing the fast forward button on a busted VHS machine. It was like watching a car crash, too brutal and morbid to look away. Unlike Amaya, Hwayoung had endless patience when it came to people watching. She could tell by the angle of Amaya's body that conversation was so far off the table it might as well be floating in outer space. She could see from the grip of the kettle that Amaya was performing just as much mental gymnastics as Hwayoung was; they were both competing for the gold medal in overthinking.
The difference was that Hwayoung was not afraid to look at Amaya. Absolutely not. She nonchalantly closed the app, sealing the untagged picture from her eyes hopefully forever and made a note to send a strongly worded text to their host (who was still only just a number and a blank picture in her phone). Wrestling with the sheets, she was finally able to pull herself high enough to rest her shoulders against the cool headboard, never taking her attention away from her fretting gal pal.
"Why wouldn't I go?" Hwayoung said, frowning. That was just unfathomable; uncharacteristic even. She already felt the sharp needle of guilt poking away at her sensibilities, and a strong part of her still thought it would be a good idea to burst into the class mid-lecture and scurry to her seat. Even if she already knew far too much about aquatic reproduction, there was something invaluable about listening to someone talk about it. There could be bets placed on why she wasn't in attendance, such as a loss of all cognitive function or a cheeky kidnapping.
She reached for the cup as it was thrust her way, absently wrapping her hands around the chill porcelain.
The water went down her throat eagerly. "No," Hwayoung said, then quickly amended it with a "thank you,". If she caught Amaya's Freudian slip, she didn't let on. All signs pointed to very likely, however, judging by the loud clearing of her throat and the subsequent hustle and bustle of movement as Hwayoung slipped out of her bed and straight to the bathroom. There, she muffled a soft scream into a fluffy towel, brushed her teeth and took care of the rest of her morning ritual. The usual. Returning to the room with a fresh face, she got dressed - a dark turtleneck and a long skirt - grabbed her phone, her wallet, and declared: "Jaehee unnie wants lunch."
The difference was that Hwayoung was not afraid to look at Amaya. Absolutely not. She nonchalantly closed the app, sealing the untagged picture from her eyes hopefully forever and made a note to send a strongly worded text to their host (who was still only just a number and a blank picture in her phone). Wrestling with the sheets, she was finally able to pull herself high enough to rest her shoulders against the cool headboard, never taking her attention away from her fretting gal pal.
"Why wouldn't I go?" Hwayoung said, frowning. That was just unfathomable; uncharacteristic even. She already felt the sharp needle of guilt poking away at her sensibilities, and a strong part of her still thought it would be a good idea to burst into the class mid-lecture and scurry to her seat. Even if she already knew far too much about aquatic reproduction, there was something invaluable about listening to someone talk about it. There could be bets placed on why she wasn't in attendance, such as a loss of all cognitive function or a cheeky kidnapping.
She reached for the cup as it was thrust her way, absently wrapping her hands around the chill porcelain.
The water went down her throat eagerly. "No," Hwayoung said, then quickly amended it with a "thank you,". If she caught Amaya's Freudian slip, she didn't let on. All signs pointed to very likely, however, judging by the loud clearing of her throat and the subsequent hustle and bustle of movement as Hwayoung slipped out of her bed and straight to the bathroom. There, she muffled a soft scream into a fluffy towel, brushed her teeth and took care of the rest of her morning ritual. The usual. Returning to the room with a fresh face, she got dressed - a dark turtleneck and a long skirt - grabbed her phone, her wallet, and declared: "Jaehee unnie wants lunch."
And ducked from the doorway.
Then reappeared, fretful. "With us. Jaehee unnie wants lunch with us."
And then: "Kyung and Daesung will be there."
Then reappeared, fretful. "With us. Jaehee unnie wants lunch with us."
And then: "Kyung and Daesung will be there."
daf7a6 x 8ff4d9
OP
OP
- Joined
- Sep 9, 2015
- Location
- ʙᴀ ᴅᴜᴍ 𝙩𝙨𝙨
⦊ ωᴀᴛᴇʀ ⦉
The photo did not go untagged for long.
One of them had looser privacy settings, which, to be fair, was set up that way to maximize possible exposure to her photography. This particular photo wasn’t even that bad as far as the type of content that often cropped up on Amaya’s Blinksta profile page. Keg stands, graffitiing eggplants onto not-so-sober people's faces, and definitely-not-stealing-a-stop-sign; her page has got a little bit of everything.
Which was to say, kissing a girl was really no big deal. Except said girl being Hwayoung absolutely made it a big deal in their shared friend group. Which, look, when Amaya offered tea, she meant the loose leaf kind, not this, whatever this was. That choice was well out of her hands though.
Located a short walk from campus, K-Food was a popular destination amongst the student body of GGU. The floor-length panel windows allowed for an abundance of light, and, to busy students grabbing a quick bite, entertainment in the form of people watching. The tables and barstools were constructed from warm-hued cedar, adding an extra dash of color to the small but cozy environment. A pergola top was incorporated into the architecture, and climbing plants encircled the criss-crossing design overhead. The food, similarly, tended towards comfort, simple but flavorful.
“So, spill, did Seunghyu ssi’s party live up to the hype?” Amaya had scarcely sat down before Jaehee sunbae was all up in her business. “The liquor was alright,” The grumbled response managed to eke its way out in between mouthfuls of food. Being a self-proclaimed carnivore, she stuck to the basics, a bowl that consisted of pork belly stir fried with kimchi. She was notably less talkative than usual, occupying herself with demolishing her food, and only humming and hawing her way through the conversation as needed. The headache had mercifully subsided after ample water and tea, but that she stayed up way too late was self-evident in the slight droop of her ears and the fact that she couldn’t stop yawning. In keeping with her sluggish attitude, her chosen outfit for the day was an oversized block print shirt thrown over a pair of simple gray sweats. Combined with those dark bangs falling into her eyes, Amaya perfectly embodied ‘I wanna go back to bed’ vibes.
“Is that all there was to it?” Jaehee pressed the attack. “You sure about that?” Kyung added in. “Double, triple sure?” And there goes Daesung. They reminded Amaya of one of those children’s toys, the one with little trumpets firing off in sequential order. The fluffy tail fidgeted. They were definitely up to something. Momentary indecision aside, Amaya stuck to her "mhm", which came out far more jumbled by virtue of her tonsils being preoccupied vacuuming food.
Jaehee pulled out her phone, placing it face up on the table. A few tappity-taps of rose-gold nails later, and there, zoomed in, without the shadow of a doubt, was that photo Amaya hadn't seen yet. For once, she was too busy gawking at the subject matter to actually appraise the quality of the photo. Like damn, even her traitorous tail was curled around Hwayoung’s thigh in the picture, clingy as can be. Amaya swallowed, which proved a terrible mistake as she evidently forgot a step in the eating process, specifically, the chewing part. Choking, she grabbed at the tall glass of water, attempting in vain to wash the knot down her throat.
One of them had looser privacy settings, which, to be fair, was set up that way to maximize possible exposure to her photography. This particular photo wasn’t even that bad as far as the type of content that often cropped up on Amaya’s Blinksta profile page. Keg stands, graffitiing eggplants onto not-so-sober people's faces, and definitely-not-stealing-a-stop-sign; her page has got a little bit of everything.
Which was to say, kissing a girl was really no big deal. Except said girl being Hwayoung absolutely made it a big deal in their shared friend group. Which, look, when Amaya offered tea, she meant the loose leaf kind, not this, whatever this was. That choice was well out of her hands though.
Located a short walk from campus, K-Food was a popular destination amongst the student body of GGU. The floor-length panel windows allowed for an abundance of light, and, to busy students grabbing a quick bite, entertainment in the form of people watching. The tables and barstools were constructed from warm-hued cedar, adding an extra dash of color to the small but cozy environment. A pergola top was incorporated into the architecture, and climbing plants encircled the criss-crossing design overhead. The food, similarly, tended towards comfort, simple but flavorful.
“So, spill, did Seunghyu ssi’s party live up to the hype?” Amaya had scarcely sat down before Jaehee sunbae was all up in her business. “The liquor was alright,” The grumbled response managed to eke its way out in between mouthfuls of food. Being a self-proclaimed carnivore, she stuck to the basics, a bowl that consisted of pork belly stir fried with kimchi. She was notably less talkative than usual, occupying herself with demolishing her food, and only humming and hawing her way through the conversation as needed. The headache had mercifully subsided after ample water and tea, but that she stayed up way too late was self-evident in the slight droop of her ears and the fact that she couldn’t stop yawning. In keeping with her sluggish attitude, her chosen outfit for the day was an oversized block print shirt thrown over a pair of simple gray sweats. Combined with those dark bangs falling into her eyes, Amaya perfectly embodied ‘I wanna go back to bed’ vibes.
“Is that all there was to it?” Jaehee pressed the attack. “You sure about that?” Kyung added in. “Double, triple sure?” And there goes Daesung. They reminded Amaya of one of those children’s toys, the one with little trumpets firing off in sequential order. The fluffy tail fidgeted. They were definitely up to something. Momentary indecision aside, Amaya stuck to her "mhm", which came out far more jumbled by virtue of her tonsils being preoccupied vacuuming food.
Jaehee pulled out her phone, placing it face up on the table. A few tappity-taps of rose-gold nails later, and there, zoomed in, without the shadow of a doubt, was that photo Amaya hadn't seen yet. For once, she was too busy gawking at the subject matter to actually appraise the quality of the photo. Like damn, even her traitorous tail was curled around Hwayoung’s thigh in the picture, clingy as can be. Amaya swallowed, which proved a terrible mistake as she evidently forgot a step in the eating process, specifically, the chewing part. Choking, she grabbed at the tall glass of water, attempting in vain to wash the knot down her throat.
“Sure looks like quite the party to me, and you were going to tell us, when…?”
sorayeon
waiting for your smoke signal
- Joined
- Jun 18, 2021
- Location
- the clouds
so i pour another shot,
and i pretend that it's your lips -
chase down another round
until i taste your whiskey kiss -
tomorrow tonight, Loote
and i pretend that it's your lips -
chase down another round
until i taste your whiskey kiss -
tomorrow tonight, Loote
Amaya was blissfully unaware while Hwayoung languished in silence.
Even during their short trek which took them below the underpass and down a quaint alley, Hwayoung was mild, her thoughts ever occupied by that traitorous snapshot. It was such a terrible irony too, that one of their main ways of keeping in touch had been reduced to damning evidence of their tomfoolery. She could have blamed the alcohol again and again, but there was always that nagging voice that insisted regardless of where the blame lay, she liked it.
Maybe she liked it a little a lot.
Hwayoung liked it so much that the guilt only swelled. The sight of their friends cheered her up slightly, returning their exuberant waves with an honest smile. Having claimed a table squashed to the side, they were intimately seated together with their trays bumping into one another. They had grown accustomed to this place, which served as both a cafeteria and a food court. There were stalls manned by fellow students to restaurants that had set up post during the conception of GGU. Might have been the school had been built around the vendors.
Sticking to her sweet and sour broth with pickled vegetables and rice on the side, Hwayoung listened to the idle chatter around them and from her friends without much attention being paid to either. She was convinced Amaya was about to inhale sauce up her nose or otherwise feast so fast a Heimlich maneuver would have to be executed post-haste. One wary eye was kept on her starving roommate while she slurped her soup with much enthusiasm.
When Amaya's non-committal response did not incite vigor, their hopeful eyes turned to Hwayoung, absolutely dog-like in their pursuit of the Truth. She did not fault Amaya for her gruff answer. Having a mouthful of pork made it difficult to speak, and she looked more than a little washed out. Hwayoung almost felt bad for dragging the other girl along, but a bit of food in the belly never did any harm and more importantly, there was absolutely no way she was going to tackle the Three Musketeers alone. If a sound could be pointed, she was currently making it by way of inhaling that sweet-and-sour goodness. They didn't have anything to hide!
It was just starting to seem like an interrogation.
What Hwayoung did not expect was for the evidence to come out so quickly. Jaehee didn't pull any punches, and the other two, ever following in their fearless leader's shadow, quickly tossed their own phones on the metal tabletop. Triplets. Each one with varying degrees of exposure, bluelight and brightness, but all exactly the same. Amaya was making some funny noise off to her side while Hwayoung pondered on the pros and cons of fainting. The obvious pro being that she would be immediately removed from this situation. She was having a hard time coming up with a con.
"There was no time," Hwayoung butted in when it was quite obvious Amaya had lost all means of speech. She nudged her own glass of water toward the poor girl and simultaneously patted her mouth with a serviette. The hot broth had stained her lips a pleasant pink, the heat still lingering on her tongue and on the insides of her cheeks. "We just woke up - I mean, we as in.. not together, we didn't wake up together, but I was still half asleep when you asked us to lunch. I wasn't even dressed! I mean, I was dressed, just not as dressed-" What a great save. She shoved a clump of rice in her mouth, the metal chopstick clacking painfully against her teeth.
Great, now there was a huddle. She hated huddles, with their low mutters and not-so-sneaky glances.
Feeling like she needed to save this somehow, Hwayoung pressed on valiantly. "Besides, you know she," chopsticks pointed downward, stabbing toward the host with enough force to puncture. Jaehee twitched her phone away protectively in protest, "has designs on Amaya! She'd do anything to get attention. No big deal!" And because she was a frantic mess at this point from her previous slip, and it actually was a big deal, she flung her arm around Amaya's neck and dragged her close to plant a messy wet kiss on her cheek with a comically loud mwah!
This evoked a trifecta of muted gasps and squeals, which Hwayoung was left very confused about because, like, they were friends? They held hands and kissed each other in public? It should have been a non-issue.
Except, Hwayoung had liked that too. She retracted her arm so quick it was a wonder she didn't fall out of her seat and returned to the fascinating islands of oil floating around her soup.
And because she was a self-described masochist, she peaked at Amaya. Who hopefully hadn't died.
daf7a6 x 8ff4d9
OP
OP
- Joined
- Sep 9, 2015
- Location
- ʙᴀ ᴅᴜᴍ 𝙩𝙨𝙨
⦊ ωᴀᴛᴇʀ ⦉
Amaya mentally uttered a prayer when those gleaming gazes shifted to Hwayoung. Friendship was magic, they said. She was inclined to agree, and, for that matter, had no shortage of friends. Some of those friends came with attachés, others with parentheses, still others required exclamation marks and prefixes. But, like everything else, friendship had its positives and negatives, and this, being hounded by their trio of friends, was definitely the negative.
Her look turned grateful when Hwayoung began to talk. Between the two of them, Hwayoung was doubtlessly the calmer, more rational one, so surely she would come up with an excellent explanation. A notion short lived as a particular phrasing made her ears shot up in alarm. Seated diagonally from Hwayoung, Amaya watched with a mixture of horror and awe at her roommate’s attempt to bluster. And what an attempt it was! Heroic, undoubtedly, but also terrible. Similar to a pedestrian leaping in front of a swerving bus in an attempt to right its course, it was terribly heroic and heroically terrible all at once.
Amaya knew that she ought to say something, anything, to salvage this trainwreck. She was good at talking, usually. This was apparently not usually, because all she could do was rub at her throat, as though what she had swallowed was not water, but lava. Three pairs of ears fanned towards them with interest while hers swiveled back as far as they would go. Her tail might’ve fluffed had she belonged to a different species. Thank the maker for that, at least.
She scarcely had a chance to process that very confusing comment about ‘she’, because she, who? That inquiry was fated for another time, however, as she found herself hauled sideways and… They must’ve made those pickled veggies extra spicy today. Of all the thoughts conceivable, that was the one her brain opted for. Whether due to Hwayoung’s behavior, or because her cheek tingled where lips had pressed, as though exposed to a hefty dose of spice.
It was all she could do to prevent her mouth from literally hanging open as she frantically attempted to glue her malfunctioning brain cells together. But she could follow Hwayoung’s lead. They had synergy - best friend synergy - like that. That was what they were. Right. Stick to the script. Wait, there was no script. Okay. Plan B. Invent a script. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but we were just playing a drinking game,” she supplied, clearing her throat. That was not going to be enough though, she knew it before the words left her mouth. It was no secret that Amaya had a casual relationship with sex, and uncharacteristic prudishness would only prolong the both of their sufferings.
And so, donning her best grin, with that signature flash of fang, she resorted to a classic military maneuver - hammer and anvil. “I drank a little too much,” Rolling her shoulders back, she straightened and swirled her nearly emptied glass. “It’s not a big deal.” Except it kind of was. Even with heavy intoxication fogging her memories, Amaya could remember vividly the electricity of their chemistry. But she could lie, if she needed to, and this qualified as a white lie, right? And now, with the anvil laid, it was time to hammer it home. “How are you and Sobong doing, Daesung?” Step two, identify the weak link in the formation, in this case, the ‘baby’ of the group, and begin the counteroffensive. “Gotten to second base yet?” She snuck a glance at Hwayoung. This was what Hwayoung would have wanted, right?
Her look turned grateful when Hwayoung began to talk. Between the two of them, Hwayoung was doubtlessly the calmer, more rational one, so surely she would come up with an excellent explanation. A notion short lived as a particular phrasing made her ears shot up in alarm. Seated diagonally from Hwayoung, Amaya watched with a mixture of horror and awe at her roommate’s attempt to bluster. And what an attempt it was! Heroic, undoubtedly, but also terrible. Similar to a pedestrian leaping in front of a swerving bus in an attempt to right its course, it was terribly heroic and heroically terrible all at once.
Amaya knew that she ought to say something, anything, to salvage this trainwreck. She was good at talking, usually. This was apparently not usually, because all she could do was rub at her throat, as though what she had swallowed was not water, but lava. Three pairs of ears fanned towards them with interest while hers swiveled back as far as they would go. Her tail might’ve fluffed had she belonged to a different species. Thank the maker for that, at least.
She scarcely had a chance to process that very confusing comment about ‘she’, because she, who? That inquiry was fated for another time, however, as she found herself hauled sideways and… They must’ve made those pickled veggies extra spicy today. Of all the thoughts conceivable, that was the one her brain opted for. Whether due to Hwayoung’s behavior, or because her cheek tingled where lips had pressed, as though exposed to a hefty dose of spice.
It was all she could do to prevent her mouth from literally hanging open as she frantically attempted to glue her malfunctioning brain cells together. But she could follow Hwayoung’s lead. They had synergy - best friend synergy - like that. That was what they were. Right. Stick to the script. Wait, there was no script. Okay. Plan B. Invent a script. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but we were just playing a drinking game,” she supplied, clearing her throat. That was not going to be enough though, she knew it before the words left her mouth. It was no secret that Amaya had a casual relationship with sex, and uncharacteristic prudishness would only prolong the both of their sufferings.
And so, donning her best grin, with that signature flash of fang, she resorted to a classic military maneuver - hammer and anvil. “I drank a little too much,” Rolling her shoulders back, she straightened and swirled her nearly emptied glass. “It’s not a big deal.” Except it kind of was. Even with heavy intoxication fogging her memories, Amaya could remember vividly the electricity of their chemistry. But she could lie, if she needed to, and this qualified as a white lie, right? And now, with the anvil laid, it was time to hammer it home. “How are you and Sobong doing, Daesung?” Step two, identify the weak link in the formation, in this case, the ‘baby’ of the group, and begin the counteroffensive. “Gotten to second base yet?” She snuck a glance at Hwayoung. This was what Hwayoung would have wanted, right?
sorayeon
waiting for your smoke signal
- Joined
- Jun 18, 2021
- Location
- the clouds
so i pour another shot,
and i pretend that it's your lips -
chase down another round
until i taste your whiskey kiss -
tomorrow tonight, Loote
and i pretend that it's your lips -
chase down another round
until i taste your whiskey kiss -
tomorrow tonight, Loote
Wow. That was it. There lacked a table of contents, and there was one chapter titled Wow, maybe Wow! One guess what the single word on that page would be. Hwayoung could rationalize and coo her way out of a paper bag, but this paper bag was being crinkled from all directions by three very nosy friends. Hwayoung could answer questions thrown at her by professors without missing a beat, but this was worse. There was no way to study for it. She wasn't given any options, such as circle a, b, c or none of the above. Worse yet, her deskmate was chewing her pencil and pretending it was a mustache.
But wait. Amaya was scribbling answers down? Amaya was attempting Morse code with her fingers? She wasn't dangling the bait so much as she was force-feeding the line to bug-eyed fish eager for a bite. Hwayoung had seen many such fish in this state, and she always felt very sorry for them. Another mouthful of rice went into her mouth dolefully, bobbing her head along to Amaya's tune. Yeah, it was just a drinking game, one Hwayoung wasn't even explicitly invited to. And not to be a snitch, but she'd also been goaded into it too from what she could remember.
The way Amaya said it though. Just a game. Her brow supplied a furrow as she dug into her suppressed memories, wading through the sticky hangover to the night prior. The low cut top. Beer pong. Amaya taking gallant shots in her stead, and beating the grunge twins. Fast forward a bit, and there was music melting in her ears and she was astride her best friend in an attempt at dancing. Lap dancing. There didn't need to be a kiss, but there was. It wasn't lap dancing and furious making out, and it was at that realization did Hwayoung stop nodding.
Her cheeks were white-hot, and there was a weird pounding in her ears. Like all the blood had rushed to those fins and there was nothing left to send to her struggling brain. It wasn't as if she hadn't been in a relationship before. She'd slept with people! She had kissed people, and been kissed before! Hwayoung just never considered it as a hobby or a habit, and it certainly wasn't something she was willing to lose grades over. But she'd never fought with Amaya about it either. It was like an invisible line, mutual understanding that they weren't the types to hound the other for their vices.
Hwayoung admired the swerve into the counterattack, which had immediate and diastrous effects. Daesung spluttered out a reply that made Hwayoung's previous attempts look like the gold standard. The other two turned like piranhas, honing in on the fresh meat with insane focus, as if they didn't already know everything about each other already. Hwayoung could have joined in and goaded them a little more just to really push the issue.
Except.. Amaya was looking at her with a similar look a dog would have after doing something that had been asked of it, but also expected. Like wiping their paws on the mat after being outside for too long. Hwayoung could manage a smile, right? Just twitch the muscles a bit, recall everything that was good and wonderful about Amaya and beam like a ray of sunshine.
She couldn't do it. Hwayoung cleared her throat and fiddled with her chopsticks. "To be clear, it's not a big deal at all, but I was just performing my jester duties." Humor, the hallmark of defense. Incredibly, she managed to lock eyes with Amaya, two yolks of gold and one drowning in black.
But wait. Amaya was scribbling answers down? Amaya was attempting Morse code with her fingers? She wasn't dangling the bait so much as she was force-feeding the line to bug-eyed fish eager for a bite. Hwayoung had seen many such fish in this state, and she always felt very sorry for them. Another mouthful of rice went into her mouth dolefully, bobbing her head along to Amaya's tune. Yeah, it was just a drinking game, one Hwayoung wasn't even explicitly invited to. And not to be a snitch, but she'd also been goaded into it too from what she could remember.
The way Amaya said it though. Just a game. Her brow supplied a furrow as she dug into her suppressed memories, wading through the sticky hangover to the night prior. The low cut top. Beer pong. Amaya taking gallant shots in her stead, and beating the grunge twins. Fast forward a bit, and there was music melting in her ears and she was astride her best friend in an attempt at dancing. Lap dancing. There didn't need to be a kiss, but there was. It wasn't lap dancing and furious making out, and it was at that realization did Hwayoung stop nodding.
Her cheeks were white-hot, and there was a weird pounding in her ears. Like all the blood had rushed to those fins and there was nothing left to send to her struggling brain. It wasn't as if she hadn't been in a relationship before. She'd slept with people! She had kissed people, and been kissed before! Hwayoung just never considered it as a hobby or a habit, and it certainly wasn't something she was willing to lose grades over. But she'd never fought with Amaya about it either. It was like an invisible line, mutual understanding that they weren't the types to hound the other for their vices.
Hwayoung admired the swerve into the counterattack, which had immediate and diastrous effects. Daesung spluttered out a reply that made Hwayoung's previous attempts look like the gold standard. The other two turned like piranhas, honing in on the fresh meat with insane focus, as if they didn't already know everything about each other already. Hwayoung could have joined in and goaded them a little more just to really push the issue.
Except.. Amaya was looking at her with a similar look a dog would have after doing something that had been asked of it, but also expected. Like wiping their paws on the mat after being outside for too long. Hwayoung could manage a smile, right? Just twitch the muscles a bit, recall everything that was good and wonderful about Amaya and beam like a ray of sunshine.
She couldn't do it. Hwayoung cleared her throat and fiddled with her chopsticks. "To be clear, it's not a big deal at all, but I was just performing my jester duties." Humor, the hallmark of defense. Incredibly, she managed to lock eyes with Amaya, two yolks of gold and one drowning in black.
"I didn't want to be a chicken."
It went unsaid: You kissed me.
It went unsaid: You kissed me.
daf7a6 x 8ff4d9
OP
OP
- Joined
- Sep 9, 2015
- Location
- ʙᴀ ᴅᴜᴍ 𝙩𝙨𝙨
⦊ ωᴀᴛᴇʀ ⦉
This was what Hwayoung would have wanted, right?
…Right?
Hwayoung wasn’t smiling though. It turned out, yawns were not the only thing that was contagious, because furrowed brows appeared to also beget furrowed brows. Sable followed ivory’s lead, dipping low and encroaching into the land of blazing twin pyres. Amaya’s smile faltered, freezing, the quirk growing stiff. Lips pressed harsher against one another, thinning into a line. That answer annoyed her, no, that was not quite it…it was more accurate to say that Hwayoung’s corroboration wounded her, but the why was beyond her. There was something in Hwayoung’s eyes, something accusatory. It made her want to flinch, because Hwayoung never looked at her like that, not even when Amaya ate the last kimbap Mrs. Soo sent.
Amaya averted her gaze, cleared her throat, and, for once, had nothing further to add.
The walk back to their shared dorm was… It was hard to describe. For one, it was quiet, which was incredibly atypical. Amaya was practically the definition of talkative. Any other day, and she would have been excitedly pointing out this cute bork or that adorable fluffkin to her best friend slash roommate. But, even when she wasn't making conversation, the air never felt quite so…laden? Being beside Hwayoung was always comfortable. Hwayoung might read a book, and Amaya might lounge upon that familiar lap, phone overhead, watching stick figures do battle. This was not that. Her tail drooped low, ever the surest indicator of her mood, and there was a certain rigidity to her gait as they made their way back.
She didn’t like this. Not one bit. And what Amaya didn’t like, she sought to correct.
Her tail batted the door closed, and she gripped her forearm in front of herself, rubbing at her elbow in a nervous display. “You could have drank if you didn’t want to.” Her words came out harsher than intended, not quite biting, but laced with something astringent. Immediately regretting her choice of words, she backtracked before Hwayoung had a chance to respond. “I mean- I didn’t, I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable. I wouldn’t have really thought you were a chicken, I didn’t mean that. You are, you know, you, and-” Amaya snapped her mouth shut again, cutting off the incoherent rambling, before sighing audibly. Frustration ebbed from her in near palpable waves. “I don’t like this.” She muttered, much quieter this time, tail curling about a thigh. “How do I fix it?” Her tone turned beseeching. Because it was always Hwayoung that she went to for advice. Because it was always Hwayoung she turned to when she needed a shoulder. And now, now…now what?
…Right?
Hwayoung wasn’t smiling though. It turned out, yawns were not the only thing that was contagious, because furrowed brows appeared to also beget furrowed brows. Sable followed ivory’s lead, dipping low and encroaching into the land of blazing twin pyres. Amaya’s smile faltered, freezing, the quirk growing stiff. Lips pressed harsher against one another, thinning into a line. That answer annoyed her, no, that was not quite it…it was more accurate to say that Hwayoung’s corroboration wounded her, but the why was beyond her. There was something in Hwayoung’s eyes, something accusatory. It made her want to flinch, because Hwayoung never looked at her like that, not even when Amaya ate the last kimbap Mrs. Soo sent.
Amaya averted her gaze, cleared her throat, and, for once, had nothing further to add.
The walk back to their shared dorm was… It was hard to describe. For one, it was quiet, which was incredibly atypical. Amaya was practically the definition of talkative. Any other day, and she would have been excitedly pointing out this cute bork or that adorable fluffkin to her best friend slash roommate. But, even when she wasn't making conversation, the air never felt quite so…laden? Being beside Hwayoung was always comfortable. Hwayoung might read a book, and Amaya might lounge upon that familiar lap, phone overhead, watching stick figures do battle. This was not that. Her tail drooped low, ever the surest indicator of her mood, and there was a certain rigidity to her gait as they made their way back.
She didn’t like this. Not one bit. And what Amaya didn’t like, she sought to correct.
Her tail batted the door closed, and she gripped her forearm in front of herself, rubbing at her elbow in a nervous display. “You could have drank if you didn’t want to.” Her words came out harsher than intended, not quite biting, but laced with something astringent. Immediately regretting her choice of words, she backtracked before Hwayoung had a chance to respond. “I mean- I didn’t, I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable. I wouldn’t have really thought you were a chicken, I didn’t mean that. You are, you know, you, and-” Amaya snapped her mouth shut again, cutting off the incoherent rambling, before sighing audibly. Frustration ebbed from her in near palpable waves. “I don’t like this.” She muttered, much quieter this time, tail curling about a thigh. “How do I fix it?” Her tone turned beseeching. Because it was always Hwayoung that she went to for advice. Because it was always Hwayoung she turned to when she needed a shoulder. And now, now…now what?
sorayeon
waiting for your smoke signal
- Joined
- Jun 18, 2021
- Location
- the clouds
so i pour another shot,
and i pretend that it's your lips -
chase down another round
until i taste your whiskey kiss -
tomorrow tonight, Loote
and i pretend that it's your lips -
chase down another round
until i taste your whiskey kiss -
tomorrow tonight, Loote
Hwayoung felt sick. Her mouth was packed with cotton and there was a lump of lead in her stomach. Her cheeks felt numb too, like she had been slapped once on each side and she had no doubt the tips of her fins were an angry pink. Whether their friends picked up on it or not was none of Hwayoung's concerns, only that they left the lunch absolutely not unscathed and there was no follow-up group text scheduling their next lunch date or any pictures taken of food they ate on a daily basis as was the norm. It was rather extraordinary how awkward things could get after something so simple.
She idled on their walk back, scuffing her shoes against the cracks in the pavement and brushing her hands against drooping leaves. Anything to avoid looking or even breathing in Amaya's direction because truthfully, she was scared to make a scene. Hwayoung was quiet in class but she never held back from her friends, and she very much felt like a cork ready to burst from the most unattractive bottle possible. Hwayoung felt bitter and sentimental, like sediment after being decanted. It was gross.
Hwayoung breathed in deeply as they mounted the stairs to their room, passing by the chatter of their fellow roommates. The smell of microwaved meals lingered along with the ever present tang of pickled vegetables. The door to their room was a looming giant and if Hwayoung were the superstitious type, she absolutely believed that karma was an entity about to devour the both of them for the crime of not going to class. But in a way, she admired Amaya's ability to get straight to the point. It was one of the many things she liked about the other girl, that they were similar in that way.
But also so so different.
Despite the fact that Amaya's fidgeting could break the concentration of an esteemed conductor, Hwayoung valiantly held onto the rails as the verbal train screamed along the tracks. "I know I didn't have to. I wanted to." In turn, her voice was fierce in tone, insistent that if nothing else, Amaya really wasn't the one at fault. Hwayoung brushed her hair from her face and moved to occupy the edge of her unmade bed. The coverlets were still rumpled from this morning and the blankets were at odds with its own edges. Sunlight from their drawn curtains warmed the pillows.
Suddenly, Hwayoung just wanted to lie down.
"Come here." She said instead, patting the empty space next to her. "I'm not uncomfortable or angry, okay? I was just surprised, that's all." Sensing that Amaya may need a little more than just that to soothe her uncertainty, Hwayoung tried to continue with as little hesitation as possible while also largely ignoring the fact that her heartbeat was about to break her ribs. "I wanted to do it, and I thought that maybe you wanted it too. Or wanted me to. Or both." Pop goes the cork, and Hwayoung was now on her own railroad over a cliff.
"Like, I know you wouldn't have thought any differently of me but I. Just. Didn't really know what to do, so I sort of just. Went for it." Hwayoung went quiet for a second, and there was a hard bit at her jaw where she clenched her teeth, like she was trying to bite something back but it was pointless. Hwayoung was always honest and she felt the lump rise from her stomach to her throat and to the backs of her eyes.
She idled on their walk back, scuffing her shoes against the cracks in the pavement and brushing her hands against drooping leaves. Anything to avoid looking or even breathing in Amaya's direction because truthfully, she was scared to make a scene. Hwayoung was quiet in class but she never held back from her friends, and she very much felt like a cork ready to burst from the most unattractive bottle possible. Hwayoung felt bitter and sentimental, like sediment after being decanted. It was gross.
Hwayoung breathed in deeply as they mounted the stairs to their room, passing by the chatter of their fellow roommates. The smell of microwaved meals lingered along with the ever present tang of pickled vegetables. The door to their room was a looming giant and if Hwayoung were the superstitious type, she absolutely believed that karma was an entity about to devour the both of them for the crime of not going to class. But in a way, she admired Amaya's ability to get straight to the point. It was one of the many things she liked about the other girl, that they were similar in that way.
But also so so different.
Despite the fact that Amaya's fidgeting could break the concentration of an esteemed conductor, Hwayoung valiantly held onto the rails as the verbal train screamed along the tracks. "I know I didn't have to. I wanted to." In turn, her voice was fierce in tone, insistent that if nothing else, Amaya really wasn't the one at fault. Hwayoung brushed her hair from her face and moved to occupy the edge of her unmade bed. The coverlets were still rumpled from this morning and the blankets were at odds with its own edges. Sunlight from their drawn curtains warmed the pillows.
Suddenly, Hwayoung just wanted to lie down.
"Come here." She said instead, patting the empty space next to her. "I'm not uncomfortable or angry, okay? I was just surprised, that's all." Sensing that Amaya may need a little more than just that to soothe her uncertainty, Hwayoung tried to continue with as little hesitation as possible while also largely ignoring the fact that her heartbeat was about to break her ribs. "I wanted to do it, and I thought that maybe you wanted it too. Or wanted me to. Or both." Pop goes the cork, and Hwayoung was now on her own railroad over a cliff.
"Like, I know you wouldn't have thought any differently of me but I. Just. Didn't really know what to do, so I sort of just. Went for it." Hwayoung went quiet for a second, and there was a hard bit at her jaw where she clenched her teeth, like she was trying to bite something back but it was pointless. Hwayoung was always honest and she felt the lump rise from her stomach to her throat and to the backs of her eyes.
"I wasn't expecting to like it, Amaya. But I did."
She closed them.
"And I'm sorry."
She closed them.
"And I'm sorry."
daf7a6 x 8ff4d9