2 차 : orientation week, college edition
풀어 ( POUR UP ) : school has officially started!02
02
what is up, everybody? you're listening to late morning fms and it's your one and only, logan park. introduction song was flowers for vases by rkcb.
today's sponsor is wonder wines, a wine subscription box that basically sends you wines that are tailored to your taste buds.
so today's topic of logan-worthy discourse is this: the pros and cons of bringing back horse back riding and replacing animals with cars.
now, i know what you're all thinking. horses have such a bad reputation to them because of the weird horse girls in third grade that would only read books on horses and neigh whenever you accidentally step on their shoes — been there, was weirded out but they're practically the anime kids of our generation so — but the american quarter horse association states that the cost of a regular horse would roughly be around $2000. that's already much cheaper than a car.
what about gas? a bundle of hay is around $120, for grass hay in particular, and you just have to feed your horse hay and carrots. i think it's a way better investment than an audi. plus, i'm pretty sure you can bedazzle the saddle so looking fly while on a horse?
[redacted for length]
ASPYN TALKS!
ASPYN TALKS!
hello my loves !! can't believe it's been like,,,, 4 months,,, since our last update,,, but alas this story will never die so i hope y'all stick around for the fun (us @ like 40 years old, still writing this story lmao). congratulations to everyone and if you didn't get chosen, dO NOT WORRY Y'ALL. fun times are in store ~ we're super sorry for the late update — jenn and i have both been super busy with school and work and namjas (no namja on my part, a dumb one on her part ;o) but hallelujah we alive n well !!!!!
JENN TALKS!
JENN TALKS!
HI. we're back LOL bigger and better than ever! ! ~!!
ok but seriously, thanks for waiting & a huge congrats to: logan park, victoria jung & heather seo!! thank you so much to everybody that applied and everybody's characters will be at least featured (either as a cameo or a friend or wtvr!!) so be on the look out for That.
sorry we're vvv busy bc i'm making a portfolio and aspyn is out there being smart but like, u gotta do what u gotta do. see u in another three months! (jokes, maybe happy april fools idk!!)
When asked why college is truly the peak of the twenties experience, most university students opt for an answer with variance around “freedom from that 8pm curfew like bless my mom but just no” or “shots shots shots; hyung take a shot with me I swear I won’t puke tonight” while standing on a table waving their shirt around.
But for Logan Park, he certainly didn’t imagine his night to shape up the way it did.
Because imagine this: 9 pm on Thursday night, newspapers spread across the entirety of the kitchen and living room, Bobby Kim’s (honestly nice, Logan will admit later when he’s significantly less sweaty and less salty that his roommate didn’t let him follow his strict routine of not doing jack and finishing season five of Gossip Girl) speakers blasting a variation of the ”you make my heart go uwu” lofi hip hop playlist, an industrial size hot chili paste container, and huge tubs of cabbage splayed across the floor.
“You know that we could just buy a ton of kimchi from Hmart? Like we live across from it. I’ll literally walk there. I change my mind about making kimchi by hand this is too hard. My self-inflicted dietary restriction of eating only pre-made and instant Korean food still stands.”
Bobby doesn’t bother answering, instead expertly slathering on the red chili mixture to a slab of healthy green cabbage as he hums along to the music.
“I’ll even let you get the 2-liters size. Or the 1-gallon,” Logan grimaces as he gets a stain of red on the pocket of his mustard yellow hoodie. “I understand the sentiment of really just understanding how the mothers of South Korea have worked tirelessly for generations to perfect the art of kimchi making, but let’s throw in the towel now, or the pink gloves in this case, and say that this ain’t working too well for the Park and Kim children of Room 402.”
Bobby grits his teeth as he goes to turn over at least nine rolls of cabbage at once. “This’ll last us the whole semester if we do it right,” he pulls off his gloves carefully before upping the volume on his phone in hopes of drowning Logan’s complaints out, “And you were the one that wanted to go organic.”
So the thing is that making kimchi in your dorm room really isn’t a typical Thursday night, even for the likes of Bobby Kim and Logan Park. If anything, their third roommate—”Willie! Ma boy Willie!” Logan has said when drunk off his mind, as shown by his track record. “Willie Lange, ma man. Love you dude you’re my favorite white boy,” Logan will sigh as he pets his roommate’s head. Willie, dear Willie, is all too used to it—will probably have an aneurysm when he comes back to see the suspicious red stain on their living room rug from when Logan accidentally splattered some of the sauce.
But they’d really always had a bad run of pursuing the spontaneous.
“Have you ever thought that lettuce could have feelings too?” Logan absentmindedly mutters quietly under his breath, but Bobby—it’s the gigantic ears, Logan will whisper conspiratively to a poor classmate who got stuck in the flow of one of Logan’s drunk rambles later that night, he can probably hear what’s happening in ing like, Oregon—hears anyway.
“Is this your segue into veganism or?” Bobby sighs.
“Nah bro. Just thinking. Like what if-”
“Okay, stopping you right there Socrates. I don’t need a ing philosophy lesson bro.”
Logan opens his mouth to refute but promptly shuts it when Logan's phone vibrates, disturbing their flow of music. He slides his phone open with his toe and is greeted with a muted laugh until a sharp voice, familiar to both boys, breaks the silence with a, “Logan ing Park. Where are you? Don’t tell me you’re actually making kimchi right now like Dylan said you were.”
“Hi Hazel!” Bobby calls out from the side as she replies through the speaker with a, “Hey! Get your asses up and ready because Ashley and I are going to come pick you up and take you out.”
“But we’re making kimchi.” Logan complains and he can hear Ashley mimic him before the other girl groans, “Logan. Stop being a bore and let’s go. We’re going to be at your house in five so please either be presentable or we’re going to make you chug this Cheoum Cheoreom that we’re bringing. You too, Bobs. The kimchi probably doesn’t even taste that good considering you both can’t even make fried rice properly like?”
Logan and Bobby both scoff, as Logan sniffs, “Mothertrucker Ashley, that hurt like a buttcheek on a stick. Just for that we’re staying and finishing it up. Finishing this kimchi or I’ll die.”
“Nice, see you in five.”
Logan and Bobby stare at their beeping phones incredulously, before silently and simultaneously falling back into the motions of the flipping the cabbage with little complaint.
Because really, there’s not much to argue against when it comes to Ashley Im and Hazel Sohn. The scratch scar on Bobby’s bicep from freshman year is pretty much testament to that.
It feels like a lot less than five minutes before they hear the front door slam open with ceremony, and the aforementioned girls chatter loudly while kicking off their lace up sandals (in Hazel’s case) and Doc Martens (in Ashley’s case). The contrast in their outfits are stark, the happy orange tint of Hazel’s sunnies and smocked crop top miles away from the snow goggles perched on Ashley’s auburn waves and the white North Face windbreaker resting on her shoulders.
“Literally what kinda ing party,” Bobby raises an eyebrow as Hazel sniffs a nice to see you too .
“We’re going to Tri Delt’s Four Seasons thing.” Hazel strolls over, crouching next to Logan and raising her head in greeting before she motions for Logan to rip a small piece for her. Putting down the green bottle of alcohol, she gingerly grabs the piece of kimchi from Logan’s gloved fingers and pops it into , before widening her eyes a bit. “It’s not terrible?”
Logan chooses to ignore the look of surprise on Hazel’s face in lieu of trying a piece himself. Oh. It really wasn’t that bad. His roommate’s mom definitely hadn’t failed them today.
“The white girl sorority? The one with that one house on that one corner? You serious?”
“Descriptive,” Hazel mutters, “but even sadder that I know what you mean.”
Ashley, still standing near the door after getting distracted by her notifications, shoots Logan a look before striding over to squat next to the set up as well. “My lab partner’s a sister so she invited us. Just come with us you’ll have a good time. Find a cute boy to talk to or whatever. Or girl.” She tilts her head as she pointedly looks at Bobby. He just shrugs.
“I swing both ways,” Logan unhelpfully adds.
“Also, we’re actually not going to leave until we finish this kimchi. So if you want us to come you gotta help,” Bobby also unhelpfully adds as he points at a stack of pink rubber gloves on the kitchen counter.
“Biual Logan, yes we know.” Hazel glares at the former. Logan opens his mouth to retaliate but Bobby makes a noise of confusion and the others turn toward him.
“I thought you were Korean.” Bobby pipes up.
“I mean, I have no labels because I love whoever I want but I’m really hoping you’re just quoting the vine and not actually that stupid.” Logan practically sneers at his roommate as Bobby throws him the middle finger with his pink-gloved hand, chili paste drooling down from the pull of gravity.
“Put that finger down, holy that looks disgusting. Bobby doesn’t have three brain cells. He has one.” Hazel shivers and throws him a glare as she goes to grab her own pair of gloves.
Logan lights up, “Oh, wait speaking of brain cells, my soulmate gave me this whole entire spiel on the intersection of brain cells and technology last night it was ing wild he’s so ing smart.”
“He has to compensate for the lack of brain cells you and Bobby have.”
Logan just sighs as the rest of his friends snicker, “The lack of love and support in this space. If I could block all you guys in real life I could. No one gets to see my hot as face anymore,” He sniffs dramatically. “But it’s alright I forgive you all because I know your dark worlds would lose the one source of light that keeps them functioning- me. Speaking of light, there’s this whole ing debate about scientifically induced conceptual changes in relation to ligh-”
“Alright we’re done here.” Ashley abruptly stands and stalks towards the kitchen. “It’s already 9:45 and I’m too sober for this . Where’s your tequila stash, Bobs?”
To say that Daniel Jeon hates losing at things he’s supposed to be good at is an understatement.
Like basketball, for instance. Freshman year, he’d been all about proudly stating how he’d been the shooting guard on his high school varsity team—before Landon Im and Elijah Han absolutely crushed him during a pick-up game, and Daniel almost shed a tear.
(“Was your team the worst in the district?” Elijah fell over in laughter as Daniel sulked for a good day and a half).
Or even the amount of time it takes to down a soju bottle. He’s fast, Lars had admit with a proud little grin as he watched his psons try to down as many signature green bottles of Cheom Cheorum as they could during pledging. Daniel had looked positively smug, if not a little disoriented from the amount of alcohol, as he slammed down his fourth bottle while his pledge brothers downed their second or third—before Lars had absolutely showed him up at their next event.
(If he puked later that night with Nicholas Jung and James Choi sadly rubbing circles into his back they promised not to tell a soul).
So when Daniel Jeon finds himself with only two cups left on his side versus the four on the opposing side, he can’t help the inkling of frustration that sets in his eyebrows as he stares intensely at the white ping pong ball poised in Victoria Jung’s perfectly manicured fingers. It’s a little difficult to focus, considering his opponent had the glorious idea of using vodka shots rather than beer when he’d already been four drinks in.
It’s loud, bass making his chest vibrate with every thump from the speaker, and he can’t help but mutter a curse word when the ping pong ball cleanly drops into the Solo cup in front of him. He unwillingly fishes out the ball in his red cup, blatantly ignoring Victoria’s light taunts as he downs the shot, stacking his cup off to the side. He wipes the bit of vodka dribbling down his chin with the back of his hand as he narrows his eyes.
“Aw, is your little frat soul tearing up?” Victoria lightly jeers with amusement littered across her pretty features. “Looks like you’re taking the swig after all.” She nods at the one cup left on his side as if to emphasize her point.
Daniel groans when he misses the cups on her side by a long shot, aim thrown off by the dimmed lights and party lights shining from the top of the fireplace and she gives him the middle finger as she crouches down to pick up the ping pong ball that had bounced over to Phillip Cha’s sneakers.
Dipping the ball into the cup of water beside her, Victoria leans back and shrugs her shoulders with a smug smile when it falls neatly into Daniel’s red cup. He calls out, “Redemption!” but pinches the bridge of his nose when it completely air balls into her crossed arms.
“Come on, Jeon! Chug.” She grins, unstacking her red cups for the next game as he picks up his Hydroflask (decorated with stickers ranging from a PAPHI one he stole from the UCSB chapter a year back to a slightly peeling One Piece Flag) and finishes off the rest of the alcohol in choice of container for the A-B-C party. He places a fist to his mouth, forcing the last bits of Vodka Smirnoff down as he makes a face at the burn while Victoria claps her hands.
“Oh god, I think I need to sit for a few seconds.”
Victoria rolls her eyes, muttering something about weak frat boys under her breath as she guides him to the couch in the living room, shoving aside a couple of throw pillows and shoving him onto the upholstery. She takes a seat beside him, jungle juice sloshing in her watering can and watches the scene in front of her. It’s a Pi Alpha Pi party — if the constant remix of Mo Bamba doesn’t make it obvious — and Victoria grins in amusement at the antics of all the new freshmen getting initiated.
A-B-C parties are always a mess (“What does it stand for?” Less-than-aware freshmen will innocently ask, to which people like Ryan Koo will throw his Vitamix Pro 750 Heritage blender filled with vodka into the air, “ANYTHING BUT CUPS, YA S. GET READY TO DIE!” while people like Irene Bae will calmly tell them that they just have to drink alcohol out of anything that’s not a cup, as she holds up a pool noodle with one end plugged in, filled with Stella Artois beer).
But there’s no doubt that they’re fun, if only just to see the downfall of overconfident college boys that think they can last the night without having water being the liquid of choice by the end of the night.
It’s safe to say that everyone’s confidence gets knocked down a few pegs.
“I think I’m actually gonna die,” Daniel says, tossing his head back onto the couch to stare up at the ceiling blankly. “Tori, write down my will on my arm. You and my soulmate can be my witnesses.”
She rolls her eyes before uncapping a sharpie that’d been rolling around on the floor to scribble a donating all my funds esp my gray supreme hoodie to tori on his forearm. Daniel puts his arm closer to his face to squint at the handwriting before shaking his head, giving up. If there’s anything Daniel can’t do when he’s drunk, it’s read. There isn’t a day Hazel will let go of this fact.
“Thanks Tori. You’re the real g, don’t know what I’d do without you,” He says before throwing her a huge grin, which she’s sure is supposed to scream a lot more I’m a heartbreaker than it actually does. Everyone knows only freshmen girls fall for Djeon bait.
“Yeah no problem,” Victoria says with amusement, patting his knee sympathetically.
Victoria and Daniel weren’t friends, mind you, but the sheer frequency that they saw each other had built a strange sense of camaraderie between the two over the past two years. It also helped that Daniel followed around Brian around like a lost poppy half the time, so really, she’d gotten used to seeing the latter’s face every few days.
Of course, she wasn’t exactly used to babysitting him, but hey, another tick off their friendship checklist.
It’s only when Nich Jung’s voice filters loudly over the bass-boosted music (Sicko Mode this time at least, thank heavens) that she gets a bit of leeway from her position. “Yo Jeon, wanna smoke?” And despite how the boy next to her had been nearly lifeless only moments before, Victoria can’t help but stifle a laugh when Daniel rises almost mechanically, feet automatically taking him stumbling towards his friend.
(If he knocks into Edward Park and Michael Bang on the way there, both of the older boys giving the younger small sighs of disapproval, no one’s the wiser. The same goes for when Edward takes out his phone to snap a picture of a teetering Jeon to Hazel captioned “collect your child”).
“Having fun?” Victoria waves with the hand not clutching her watering can as Michael comes to settle onto the couch next to her.
“When am I not, oppa?” She throws a cheeky grin at the older as she goes back to survey the crowd. “I mean, just look.” She waves towards the general vicinity of the dance floor, where there’s no doubt that the one junior who sits behind her in Media Economics is getting it on with Victoria’s freshman year hallmate—much like the rest of the 70 or so other people packed like sardines into the space.
“I guess you’re not wrong,” Michael grins, taking a swig of water from his Brita filter (“Is that vodka?” “It’s water.” “Really.” “No actually, I’m a ing grandpa”) before giving a nod of acknowledgment as Edward comes sliding onto the couch next to them, having disappeared to refill his 20cc global syringe with tequila. “And the KASA president finally joins us.”
“I’m actually too old for this ,” Edward sighs as he twirls his syringe around, giving a halfhearted grin as a drunk freshman girl knocks into the side of the couch and jostles him, slurring an apology before stumbling back to her friends.
“And yet, you’re here with us,” Victoria singsongs as she reaches across Michael to nudge him playfully.
“More like to make sure Landon doesn’t do he regrets,” Edward sighs just as the aforementioned frat president slides out of the crowd with a half-empty bottle of Grey Goose in hand, a glint in his eye as he strides over to Victoria, silently gives her a pointed look as she sighs and holds out her watering can towards him, and pours a sizable amount before disappearing again with a whoop.
“Like that,” says Edward. “Tori don’t drink it if you don’t want to, hah.”
But the thing about Victoria Jung was that she never backed down from a challenge. And she could give less of a about the state of her liver at this point in time. She’d come to have fun, didn’t she? And there was very little that could deter her from reaching that goal, especially considering she’d spotted that cute So Dwe Mul waiter that had given her his number last weekend on the second floor earlier. He was tall, if anything, with a cute smile. It wouldn’t hurt to live a little.
“Where’s the fun in that, oppa?”
They’re really getting too old for this .
Peter Min sighs as he fixes the fit of his black leather jacket. It’d been his favorite over the years and had aged well with time, a gift to himself after he got into UCM’s computer science program early. While it’d been a heavy investment for a high school senior who made minimum wage stuffing teddy bears at the local mall’s Build-a-Bear, the work had ended up paying off.
The crease lines each told a story, Peter used to joke to Lily. The right sleeve creased from slinging the handles of his sisters’ and mom’s purses during breaks. The body of the jacket creased from scrunching the leather together into a faux pillow the time he and Brian had forgotten to bring pillows (or sleeping bags for that matter) when they’d hit the road for a spontaneous roadtrip to San Francisco.
But then again, what he had said to his girlfriend at one point is irrelevant now, considering their recent conversations have been sporadic at best, if not nonexistent.
Plus, his favorite jacket does little to excuse the fact that, at least in his mind, they’re too old to dress like they’re still freshmen and looking to hook up with anything that moves, too old to be regretting decisions on a Thursday night with classes still bright and early the next day.
But then again, it isn’t like he sleeps until 5 am on a daily basis anyway, considering the ty thing he calls his sleep schedule. He isn’t even properly coding yet, considering it’s only the second week of school, but his body is attuned to the worst of habits.
“I don’t think any of my roommates are home, but just letting you know that they might? Don’t know man, you know how some of them are about noise.” Derek looks over meaningfully at his friend as he pulls off his Stan Smith’s, chucking them to the side as Peter pulls off his own scuffed Nike Air Force 1s and places them neatly by the door.
He trudges behind his taller friend as the former dumps the McDonald's takeout bags he’d been hugging onto the kitchen table.
“Yeah no it’s fine. How loud can we be doing the 50 nugget challenge anyway?” Peter quirks a small smirk before setting down the six-pack of Blue Moon next to the bags. He shrugs off his jacket and rests it on the back of one of the chairs before plopping onto it, shuffling some of the stray papers on the table around to make room for the food.
In retrospect, the progression of Derek and Peter’s Thursday night is perhaps the perfect depiction of their progression of age—they’d started off at one of Hoseok Jung’s notorious kickbacks, some kind of house mixer that “would be really chill, for real” before it inevitably turned into said host taking body shots off of someone’s abs and the crowd being so thick people spilled out the front door.
Peter loves Hoseok, he really does, but the moment he saw one of his students — sometimes being a TA really , though the benefits usually outweighed the costs — pretty much eat the face of the girl he usually sat next to in said quiz section, Peter gave Derek a look before they bounced.
So that had led them to hitting up the group chats they were both respectively in because momma raised no quitter and this was probably the only weekend Peter would have any motivation to drag himself out of his apartment (and if it wasn’t obvious from the incessant tapping of keys and text notification pings as they sat in Peter’s car, they were pretty desperate for a Good ing Time™). Results had been mixed, but it had led them to their next set of plans — delivering McDonald’s to Eliza Kim in DVP while she happy-cried over the food and sad-cried over some design assignment she’d failed to finish earlier.
So, a ton of fun.
Just as Peter had been about ready to call it a night, however, Derek had come through with the best idea (because nice figures be damned; he needed the sustenance and the fat rolls to fuel all of his future all-nighters) to end their second week of school while idling in the drive-thru lane: “You, me, and 100 Mcnuggets baby.”
So really, a ton of fun.
“Do you need a bottle opener or are you good?” Derek calls from the kitchen as he opens a few cabinets to find napkins and some water glasses.
Peter positions the ridges of the metal bottle cap against the sharp edge of the granite counter, grunting as the bottle opens with a satisfying pop! “Nah, I’m good.”
“Alright, chill.” Derek walks back to the dining table with slow, measured steps to avoid spilling the water from the glasses clutched in his hands. “Also, don’t think anyone is home? So feel free to connect your phone to my speaker or something dude. My music taste is ,” Derek gives a dramatic sniff, “So I will bequeath you with the goods.”
Peter just hums in affirmation as he expertly unlocks his phone and clicks on his Spotify app with his right hand all the while ripping the McDonald’s bag in a pseudo placemat with his left.
In retrospect, blasting Meek Mill while you’re unsure whether there’s anyone else actually in the house at midnight probably isn’t the move. But when you’re each 20 chicken nuggets in, there’s a lot less straight thinking and more poultry-driven thoughts.
“For the love of all things, can you guys shut up?”
Derek nearly chokes while chugging his beer as a door slams open behind him, and a less-than-amused girl glares past the door frame, the dimly lit room behind her shedding an almost ominous backdrop around her petite figure. She’s wearing a navy UCM hoodie that hangs baggy on her frame, and there’s an almost petulance to her stance.
“Holy , you were here the whole time?” Derek sputters as he looks back at her disbelievingly. He reaches to grab a chicken nugget all the while continuing to stare at the latter.
She just rolls her eyes as she walks out of her room, peering in disgust at the mess of McDonald’s spread across the dining room table as she strides into the kitchen to grab water. “I was studying.”
“...It’s the first week of school.”
“Yeah but I already feel behind,” She purses her lips before looking at least a little sheepish. “And I couldn’t sleep so.” She shakes out the tangles in her long black locks, brushing her hands through her hair before finally looking at the third person in the room. Her eyes light up in recognition for a second before returning to their inky indifference. “Oh, hi Peter.”
“Sup, Heather.” Peter nods back while dipping a nugget into a sweet and sour sauce pack. “School’s been going?”
“It’s definitely going.”
It’s not like they’re merely acquaintances (when Derek Park is your friend, you hear a lot about Heather — whether what you hear is positive is up to interpretation), but they’re not friends either (when Derek Park is your friend, Heather probably doesn’t like you — “being friends with that idiot automatically demotes you”) so Peter honestly wasn’t even expecting much of an acknowledgment. So really, this seems like a big jump in their friendship. He’s down to write this day down in his calendar in remembrance.
She gives a thin-lipped smile before going back to sipping on her water and walking back to her room. “Anyway, came out to tell you the music is loud. I’m working on my research thesis so if you’d keep it down? And also clean up after you’re done. I don’t want to deal with crumbs or stains tomorrow. And refrigerate the beer after.”
Derek grimaces a little as she starts to close her door, head tilted to the side as if awaiting an answer. “Yeah, yeah of course.” Heather hums in affirmation before closing the door.
Peter goes to turn down the music, only to raise an eyebrow when the music goes silent completely. “Dude the music was literally at one volume bar.”
“I ing swear dude, it’s either she has supernatural hearing or she hates me. Bets on So Dwe Mul on which one.”
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풀어 ( POUR UP ) : hi also! we just updated our main cast page (chpt2). twitters scroll vertically, scroll horizontal on twitter for apple playlist (6 songs each, vertical scroll) and scroll horizontally outside of said twitter/playlist for the whole shebang!!
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