#B. i have to get this off my chest before ramadan

[spockasmr]

[lideria]

Sugar Rush Love. | Haechan

Request: Hi hi can I request a fluff for Haechan or Mark? Thank you. Sorry I’m not super specific but I don’t have any ideas right now lol

Author’s Note: This was super fun to write! I really hope everyone who reads it enjoys it quite as much as I did while writing. Plus, just a heads-up, it is pretty dialogue-heavy, so I’m sorry if that’s not your type of thing :)

Warnings: One or a couple of curse words, brief mention of body form, comments on eating/mentions of stress eating, brief mention of injury, mentions of non-Ramadan-friendly content, and I think that should be it! Plus, English is my second language so there might be errors. Please let me know if there is anything else!

Word Count: 2493

Genre: Fluff, Angst if you squint, college!au, baseball!au, crushtolover!au

I hope you all enjoy!

“Sorry for waking you up and all but would you wanna have a picnic? Like some snacks, I guess?”

It had been maybe 2 hours since you had fallen asleep when Donghyuck calls. His voice makes it clear that he is wide awake at who-knows-what on a weekday. It somewhat worries you, but at the same time, he is always like this. Energetic. At unnecessary times as well. However, it still did kind of annoy you how he fancied the idea of a picnic at— you check your phone— “At 4 in the morning?”

“Why not? I’m craving a lot of stuff and it’d be sad if I went out to get a bunch of snacks just to eat them by myself. You like what I eat, no?” That was true. You both had likings for similar foods in general. Though, he was not the type to have snacks around this time. Especially around this time of the year, if you recall right. Maybe something was wrong with his mood?

His voice sounds just fine, though. So it cannot be that.

You sigh to yourself, defeat settling in, and turn on the light beside your bed. “Fine. Where do we meet?” A hand goes up to rub at your eye, triggering a yawn almost immediately. He takes a while to answer, sounds of shuffling in the background. “The field.” There comes a creak from his side. Possibly a door as it is followed by a loud slam. “It’s open at this hour?”

He chuckles. “It’s always open. The amount of freaks that go out on a jog at 2:30 in the morning.. you wouldn’t believe it.”

You grin knowingly. “For you to say it… Don’t you have to be one of them to know?” Silence.

Then, a dramatic sigh of annoyance. “Shut up. Wear something thick.”

You end up wearing an oversized hoodie over your pajama shirt and some much more presentable sweatpants before washing your face, brushing your teeth and rushing out to not keep him waiting. It is chilly outside, almost cold as the breeze hits your newly washed face. Lights are off for the most part. Silence calming yet bizarre.

There is something about living in a heavily populated area and going out at weird hours. Because as you stroll your way down to the field through the campus, the city outside the campus still as well, it feels like walking through a deserted city. As if the whole city is for you and you only. You could do whatever you want to do.

Some part wants to scream and pierce through the silence, but it is too perfect to ruin. It would be a shame.

The campus is big, but definitely cramped. Very cluttered and populous to the point that it feels small. It is only at times like these and when you are down with some kind of sickness when you realize just how much distance there is between the on-campus apartment complex and the fields. But it feels nice— the clutter. Almost makes it feel homey.

When you are a little more than halfway done with your walking you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. You do not bother checking, because you know it must be Donghyuck texting you to hurry up or whatever. Then you look up.

And it dawns on you why he must have felt the need to go outside instead of hanging out in the dorm lobby.

The sky is incredibly clear— too good to be true in an area with high light pollution. A bunch of stars are visible, more stars than usual for sure. No clouds whatsoever. But also, no Milky Way. Yet it is still better than good enough, because the moon is full and is shining with all its glory and scars, and stars are twinkling in a rhythm what feels like a melody.

You continue to walk mostly with your eyes fixed on the sky, and if anyone asks you it is truly a miracle that you make it to the field without falling. Severely tripping, yes, but not falling.

It almost feels like he is not there when you push the doors and walk into the track circling the diamond because of how quiet it is. But there is a faint amount of light almost in the middle of the giant patch of grass with a body hunched over it, so you make your way over.

He does not get up to greet you. He does not have to. You sit on the grass that is definitely colder than the weather itself and throw your arm around his shoulders to give him a brief hug. He hugs you back, but you know. You know for a fact Donghyuck is annoyed. “Why don’t you look at your phone ever when I text you? I actually asked for something,” He laughs out a huff of annoyance and points a finger at the bag of snacks. “I forgot to get tissues. I’d send you back to go get some but I won’t because I’m a good friend.”

Friend. Funny. A friend who has a crush on you and does not bother to hide it, and a friend whom you have a crush on and do not quite bother to hide it from. Just a couple of crushing friends who will not take action. “It’s fine, we’ll just lick our fingers.” You say as he makes a move to pull out the snacks, interested in what he has brought.

There is a bunch of sweets, with definitely way too much sugar at this hour. Considering Donghyuck is already energetic and seemingly not sleepy, the oncoming sugar rush that awaits both of you is scary.

He breaks a chocolate bar in half. You cannot help the question that blurts itself out. “Isn’t season starting soon? Don’t you have to not be eating these?”

The half chocolate bar gets pushed onto your lips, as if to tell you to shut up, please. “Yeah. If coach doesn’t know it’s fine.”

You give him the look. He gives in under the pressure. “I’ve been eating lots of carbs and proteins for training season and oh my god, my diet is filled with bland foods. I want to taste something, and I’d much rather prefer it to be sweet.” He takes a bite which is almost all of the half he has in his hand. It makes sense he is frustrated. “I’ll just have to run harder tomorrow— today.” He places his arms on his knees that he has pulled to his chest, his arm clenching a bit. His words struck you harder than they should, and you frown. “One night won’t break your form.”

“I know. I just want to be at my best so I have a chance at getting picked up this season.” With that, he takes the other bite, and his half of the bar is gone. You lean back on your hand and look at him. What he said makes sense, but also does not. “There is no reason you wouldn’t get picked, you know? You’re so good at running, and your aim with the bat is sharp enough.”

Donghyuck leans forward to pull another snack— moon pies, and you laugh. “You sure you’re not stress eating?” He takes a look at you for a split second, hands you the pie even though you are not done eating the bar, and takes one out for himself. “If only you ate what I’ve been eating for the last several weeks, then you’d get me. Plus, my game is top notch when it comes to stress management.”

That brings a mixture of snorting and giggling out of you as you turn to look at his profile. “Sure. As if you weren’t screaming when Jungwoo told you—“

He turns to you in an instance, and the moon pie’s crumbs go everywhere when he speaks. “Not completing the track on time for like more than twenty times after you come back from an injury makes you panic. Rightfully so.” The crumbs stick to your face, even, and it is gross even if he is your crush. “Jesus, okay, ew. And also, of course it’d make you panic, but it was only a whole two seconds longer than your personal best. You did not need to scream that much.”

He shrugs and lets himself fall onto the field. It is then that you realize he is only in a t-shirt and a sad excuse of a cardigan. Which is very hypocritical of him if you do say so yourself. “It’s just… Baseball is what I do, you know? It keeps me on a scholarship, I’m actually somewhat good at it which is great because I for certain suck at my degree, and it’s what I want to do for the rest of my life. So it’s important for me to get picked up this season. Of course it’s okay if I don’t, because I’ll have the chance for another 2 years unlike Jungwoo, but the earlier the better.” The level of frustration grows with each sentence, and he keeps doing these hand gestures that cause his hands to flail around a little.

You also let yourself fall when he stops, but forwards on your stomach instead of backwards on your back. Your face is above Donghyuck’s as you lean your head on your propped up hands. “You wanna drop out once you get picked up?” It would make sense, really. He was not the one to keep good attention on his academics. Not because he does not want to, but because he just cannot do it.

He clicks his tongue and meets your eyes. When he speaks up, his voice is quieter. “Not really. If I get injured again it’s probably over for me, so,” The breath he exhales hits your face. “Gotta have a plan B.”

Both of you sit in the quiet breeze for a bit after that. Still snacking on a variety of his favorite snacks, you try to bicker with him. But instead, he asks you how school is going for you. You tell him the quizzes and the assignments and the group projects, and how nobody shows up for the group project meetings, and about your club life which is equally as exciting for you as baseball is for him, but the pace is definitely much more different.  

“Are you even aware of the sky tonight? Look at all the stars— the moon, too.” You do it to direct the conversation anywhere else, because frankly, you both knew you did not want to talk about school at 4-something AM. He does look up, and smiles. “I was here before you came, so of course I’ve seen it.” Deep breath. “Really pretty, like you.”

You cannot even try to contain the smile. The blood rushes to your cheeks and hands. “Stop. I’m dressed in presentable pajamas and I’m every shade of ugly tired.”

“I’m here for it, personally.” He elites up his voice and places his hand on his chest a little before proceeding with his speech. “In my humblest of opinions, the pajama look is far better than the looks of whoever’s dating my upperclassmen.” Then, he goes serious again as you start to laugh at what you suspect to be the beginning of his sugar rush. “No seriously, some of the people they’re dating are actually intimidating. More than coach, even.”

“Oh so I’m not intimidating?” You ask, hand posted at your chest. He laughs slightly, almost uncomfortably. “Uh, no, you’re scary when you get angry.” Lucky for him he understands he is only making matters worse, and you laugh out loud more when he starts rambling. “Of course that’s not to say it’s bad, yours is a cool kind of intimidating. But they are there to support them, and after the games end it’s like they will take them home and punish them even if they’ve done good.”

“Some people are into that kinda stuff though.”

Donghyuck looks at you, genuinely disgusted. “No.”

The sheer horror and disgust on his face finally makes you burst into the sleepy-sugar rush laughter you had been holding back, and he starts laughing his fairly dumb sounding laugh along with you. “I’m not shaming whoever likes it but damn, let them celebrate, I don’t know—“

“The thing is, that’s their way of celebrating.” You manage out, holding your stomach as you laugh still, and even though both your stomach and your lungs were begging you to stop the laughter kept coming on stronger as his face dropped further with confusion. “That’s not what I meant— So what, if people look pissed at their significant others, that might be PDA too? That makes everything so complicated though.”

You are crying. At the dumbness of the conversation, and the 5-year-old energy of what you both find to be funny. He laughs as well, especially when your hands under your head give out and you fall on top of somewhere between his chest and shoulder. It takes a while for both of you to stop and come to your senses, and when you do, he asks you something with a smile audible through the words. “Would you come to my games for good luck?”

Wiping at your eyes, you answer with a shrug. “Maybe. But you need to answer something first.”

“Hm?” Your finger points at the sky within an instant. “What do you prefer, the stars or the moon?” He must be dumbfounded, because he does not answer for some time. “The stars, I guess?”

Faking an overreaction, you also fake your voice to sound harsh. “Wrong! There was a line, and you crossed it. I’m not coming to the games, hope you have fun.” You giggle again, the sugar really hitting you now, and maybe the lack of sleep since the moon has started to shift down a little. Donghyuck looks at you and frowns. “Don’t use that tone with me, or I’ll kiss you.”

The laughter is still not over, and your eyes hurt with the continuous laughter. You did not even know if that was possible. “No you won’t— you never do!”

But then he does.

Chocolate infused into his lips, hovering on top of you, he kisses you on the field. His lips are soft, the kiss not so much, but he is kissing you and oh god it is going on. He actually means to kiss you.

So you place a hand on his neck to just enjoy the feeling and to feel in the moment. Put a bit more of yourself on your part into the kiss as well. He smiles. When he is not smiling, you smile— and you just do that. Take turns smiling, silently celebrating the kiss because finally.

This was a pretty nice way of sobering up.

[borisbubbles]

Eurovision  2010s: 25 - 20

25. Francesca Michelin - “No degree of separation” Italy 2016

Man, we’re deep into the endgame and at this point every elimination starts to mentally hurt. 

“Nessun grado di separazione” is a fantastic song. it is a moody, melodic, genuinely touching showcase of palpable social anxiety, brightened up by frivolous jiggles and Animal Crossing-inspired staging. 😍 Its lyrics tackle the subject of “falling in love” with disarming accuracy and poetic justice. When you fall in love with somebody, it really is a question of resistance, of trying to stay level-headed and rational, of trying to not speak from the mind, not the heart, and then flare of emotion lights up from the inside, carving a path in your chest, until

THERE IS NO DEGREE OF SEPARATION

THERE IS NO DEGREE OF HESITATION

THERE IS NO DEGREE OF SPACE BETWEEN US

WE ARE STARS ALIGNED TOGETHER

DANCING THROUGH THE SKY, WE ARE SHININ’

Hands down my favourite language shift ever. Each time Francesca delivers it, time stands still, as you take in the expanse of the universe, the beauty of love and the profoundness of life. 

Naturalmente, Francesca is also a fantastic performer for me. It really pains me that she was less good in the Grand Final, because her SF performance was genuinely worthy of a top five spot on this ranking. Yet, at the same time, Francesca is clearly upset at herself that she was worse and god my overthinking, underachieving perfectionist-with-a-crippingly-fear-of-not-being-good-enough self can RELATE SO HARD to that. 😭

*YOU* ARE PRECIOUS, Francesca. Grazie.

Easily the best entry Italy have ever brought at Eurovision...

________________________________________________________________

24. Mahmood - “Soldi” Italy 2019

...until “Soldi”. Alessandro is mah MOOD

What a delight “Soldi” was. Shame on me though. Between, all the madness of Hatari’s assholery, Serhat’s qualification, ZalaGasper’s interview gold, Bilal’s revamp, Michela & Miki’s staging miracles, Sergey’s struggles to keep his homosexuality under wraps, Duncan’s staging disaster, Jurij’s bedroom eyes and 2019: A Kate Oddyssey, I had completely forgotten about Mahmood.

Which made the rediscovery of “Soldi” all the greater. 😍 THIS 👏 SONG 👏 FUCKING 👏 SLAPS. 👏 even the B-material things such as the snappy camerawork, the arabic middle-eight and rhyming “Ramadan” with “Jackie Chan” are mindblowingly awesome. 

It hard to pick a favourite aspect though. The backdrop, the beat, the dancing, Mahmood’s vocals and miming all come together in a song that is supereffective in getting the pain across while also simultaneously remaining fun, addictive and highly energetic. Mahmood completely DISMANTLES bad parenting while also clowning the xenophobic pieces of shit that tried to bully him off Eurovision. It’s that combination of genuine emotional pulling, righteous ownage and let’s face it, a fucking amazing song that makes coming back to Mahmood for another listen the easiest decision ever. *CLAP*CLAP*, motherfuckers. 👏

________________________________________________________________

23. Lea Sirk - “Hvala, ne!” Slovenia 2018

[2018 Review here] (shared with ZiBBZ)

HVALA SLAY SLAY

Best moment of 2018: Lea Sirk becomes the best shock qualifier of ALL TIMES. Honestly, a trash fairy with a trap song that she wrote in under two hours has NO BUSINESS being this good, but it is. 😍

 Remember the Israeli’s that cheered for Hatari? “Hvale, ne!��� is the jury equivalent to that. It’s a song that righteously calls out the FAKENESS of the music industry <3 THAT WAS ALSO LIKED BY THE JURIES <333332456 😍😍😍

Besides this “Hvala, ne!” is a wild ride taking us to lands of cotton candy braids and trashbag couture with an impeccable, show-stopping choreography, an earworm of a beat and just general kick ass energy. Lea operates on a near-inhuman level of pure CONTENT. Every second she delivers something of value, be it choreography or a snarky note or a hilarious facial expression “Hvala ne!” is riddled with little nuggets like that, which are hard to list in text, so here are a  couple of gifs:

and yes, of course, the “break”. 😍

Being able to pull that off not ONCE, but TWICE and STILL making it look fresh and novel <3 “Hvala, ne!” is effortlessly sleek, unapolegetically non-conformist, shamelessly gimmicky and 100% pure awesomeness. Slovenia may be a tiny country geographically but they burst with raw TALENT. Obrigado sim! 

ps: Slovenia reportedly hating Lea now because she was trashtalking ZalaGasper’s victory over RAIVEN <3  lmfao Lea <3 ANGELS <3

________________________________________________________________

22. Who See - “Igranka” Montenegro 2013

💃 Vodim te na IGRANKU 💃 💃 Na na na na  IGRANKU 💃 💃 Ku ku ku ku IGRANKU 💃 💃 Vodim te na IGRANKU 💃

I should not get ahead of myself, but jesus fuck, what a TRIP. 

So anyway, are Who See dressed like austronauts to signal that “Igranka” isn’t of this fucking planet, or? “Igranka” a fun party song, in which Who See tramp about dressed like Armstrong and Lightyear, flanked by 2013′s ubiquitous dubstep. Good? Sure.🤔 Funny? Certainly. 😁 However, nothing superexciting so far.

Until... 

Who See go from a weird heteronormative rap effort that is lowkey fun to an utterly unhinged acid trip the SECOND Nina Zizic is lifted onto the stage by a dumbwaiter and then proceeds to collect every scalp in the gaylaxy. Remember how I said 2013 had EPIC female entrances? This is a top five entrance probably in the history of live performances. SLAIN, DECEASED, EVAPORATED every single time. 

Europe’s cyborg seraph.

and I mean, you’d think this one-time gimmick would get stale over time, but “Ingranka” actually gets better with every listen. I’m at the point where I can NO LONGER resist the ululating siren call to don a visor and a pair of pvc wings, and make overdramatic shouty entrances everywhere just like Nina the few times I choose to leave my mother’s basement. VODIM TE NA IGRANKU. 

________________________________________________________________

21. Cleo - “My Slowianie”  Poland 2014

CLEO... Donatan?

Is this Donatan shade for not being there? GOOD! We at BorisBubbles (so basically, I) believe in gender equality and since the wymyn do all of the work here, I’ve decided to not credit him. 🤭

Anyway, let’s just JUMP right in because dammit “My Slowianie” is such a RIDE. It’s entire objective appears to be... to convince everyone that ~Slavic Women~ are better, at everything than non-slavic women and, well, being slavic myself this message speaks to me. Not to mention that Cleo teaches us this paramount interculteral lesson in the most hilariously blunt fashion ever. 

SPECIAL THINGS WE HAVE IN OUR GENES

MAKES US PROUD OF OUR NATURAL SHAPES

CREAM AND BUTTER TASTE SO GOOD

WE PREPARED FOR YOU DELICIOUS FOOD

OUR BEAUTY’S FAMOUS ALL OVER THE WORLD

YOU GOTTA SEE FOR YOURSELF AND THEN YOU WILL KNOW 😉

and dammit Cleo doesn’t underdeliver, doesn’t she? Three minutes of loud in your face SUPERIORITY. 😍 One could argue that “My slowianie” is SOCIALLY REPRESSING WOMEN, like many terfs did but like... get over you -- Sophie Ellis-Bextor, BorisBubbles. I don’t think any of us have the right to tell (other) women what they can or can’t do because of their breasts and oestrogen. These ladies agreed to do this song/act and are completely facetious while doing it. It’s a spoof. Laugh. or don’t laugh, I don’t care, really. Be a humourless non-slavic frump if you must. As far as I am concerned, “My slowianie” is a thing of CHARMING BEAUTY :shakes what his momma gave him:/ :claps his hands to this music:

and in this update we say goodbye to Italy, Montenegro and Poland. Read my thoughts on them below:

ITALY

Italy before their return is one of the biggest snoozefests in Eurovision and now look at that chart. They were near impeccable in this decade and hopefully can win a third time soon (honestly the fact that they came so close to winning four times in this decade and still didn’t is one of the biggest mysteries of 2010s Eurovision imo.)

MONTENEGRO

Montenegro are the Georgia of the Balkans: they often go for experimental shit, just cuz they can. Unfortunately, their shit often is just that: shit. 

POLAND

Poland at Eurovision is a big ball of meh, mostly because they can’t, at all, select songs or entrants that sound good. Cleo and Michal are forever though, so it’s not completely without merit. 

[songketalliance]

A Daughter’s Duties: Sexism at Home

““Seharian inda nampak,” the adult says when I go out. My curfew is rock solid while a male child’s is fluid. I don’t see them waiting in line for the “going out” application process often. Do they even ask permission? How much shouting, arguing, and negotiating do they have to endure?”

by Haley B

“Payah jadi bini-bini ani.” I feel like I could say this to a stranger in passing and have her agree with me. Don’t get me wrong though. I love being a girl—it’s just that, lately, as I traverse deeper into the realms of adulthood, society around me seems intent on weighing me down due to what I carry between my legs.

Growing up, I remember trying to make sense of the world in parallels. Where I saw a difference (between boys and girls in particular), I would draw parallels to understand it.

For example, I wear a skirt and boys wear pants at school but we wear the same things at PE. Different toilet signs: boys are ordinary and girls wear capes. The buzz cuts on their small heads, the braid that fell on my back. The anatomy between our legs were different, it worked differently too (to my dismay, standing up over the toilet bowl, willing for a clear shot and disappointingly having to wash my legs after) but it’s cool, girls get to chill and sit while peeing.

But that was where the parallels ended for a while for me. Except for the complicated concept of childbirth I found out a little later.

I was always observant as a child and was usually chastised for butting in older people’s conversations, because “kanak-kanak inda boleh menyampuk.”

So I ended up just listening. I listened as older women talk about how painful childbirth is and I, in my kanak-kanak mind, dusted that information off with, well... Boys get circumcised and I hear that’s painful too... not realising girls also get circumcised earlier in my culture  and is made into a smaller deal than boys’.

And then puberty came and things became a bit more complicated.

The line between boys and girls were drawn from my home life. From the adults around us who built this strange platform for being a daughter.

I couldn’t sit and talk just any way that I wanted to. I have become “anak dara” and I can no longer play with my toys and mind my own business.

A son comes home, noisy and hungry. That’s the time ‘dapur berasap’. And when I--the daughter--comes home hungry, I’m supposed to figure that out on my own.

Well, it’s because “kamu (daughters) pandai sendiri-sendiri,” the adult says.

Okay. So when are the boys going to learn?

My time (the daughter) isn’t my own anymore; I can’t chill too long because somehow my tiredness weighs less than that of a man’s.

“Seharian inda nampak,” the adult says when I go out. My curfew is rock solid while a male child’s is fluid. I don’t see them waiting in line for the “going out” application process often. Do they even ask permission? How much shouting, arguing, and negotiating do they have to endure?

I have become a part of the hosting committee in Ramadan and Raya, often dominated by women. Cooking and hosting for family during sungkai. “Banyak pahala,” they tell you (but the boys don’t have to have pahala?), the expectations are as high as if I were Nigella Lawson when really, the reason is simply because “Kau bini-bini!”

During Raya, you gotta prepare the tea, serve the guests and attend to refills. You have to be on stand-by. My brothers do this too but they actually get to volunteer before they’re actually forced to be stationed near the guest living room at all times.

Daughters are suddenly at the forefront of representing your family, but not when it comes to more important matters like voicing out opinions during family meetings--no, you just become the perpetual memo taker.

Suddenly, at raya, people want to know, where do you go to school? How well are you academically? Have I considered X and Y products for that acne? Maybe some weight loss would help too.

Beyond what lay between my legs, my chest, my bottom and my skin, my weight too, seem to hold so much more meaning to the adults around me. 

So many expectations. So many! The teenage me grumbled.

BUT academically! Yes, expectations were there for my brothers too. Phew! Okay.

Oh, but what was this about marriageable ages. I gotta get married at 24? And what of my brothers, when do they wanna marry? Oh it’s up to them?

Unfortunately, it’s hard to bring this up with my brothers. Not because they wouldn’t listen to me, but because I never even considered bringing them into that fold—it somehow feels sacred now to talk about between the womenfolk. This underlying imbalance we’ve been accustomed to. And sadly, I realize lately, even between girls you need to discern who to talk to that could relate to this.

Because like the boys, they seem to think this is just the way it’s supposed to be.

On the other hand, maybe I don’t want to address the issue with my brothers for fear of... what if they think this was the norm too? I guess I didn’t want to confirm this for myself, because talking about it makes it true. Like how you do with harsh truths, even when the sight of reality is glaring right in front of you.

Lately I realise my accomplishments are dimmed by the light of things like my age. I’d convince myself  with how I’ve gotten a degree, and university for me was so difficult, and I now have a job in this economy. 

"BUT you’re 27 and by that time your mum already had 3 children," a voice bellows from the depth within me.

And I look at the daughters that have become mothers, entering into this wheel. It’s not enough if you’ve reached a high ranking position at your job--you could be THE boss for all it’s worth...but can you cook? Are your children happy and getting straight A’s?

Why do we have to meet so many standards, answer to so many people?

Why is our worth conditional to so many things?

At a sungkai family gathering, I sat and observed the older women tending to their husbands, bringing the men plates of food and glasses of drinks.

Wondering why the merit of preparing food for your partner, tending to your children and looking good while at it, fell solely on the girls’ team.

I sat alone, looking at this 'normality' sighing, “Payah jadi bini-bini ani.”

by Haley B

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