#his real name was bob which is somehow funnier

[handmedownpocketpussy]

When I was a sailor (merchant sailor not navy) we all had stupid boat names. One guy I sailed with was called Wahoo because 30 fuckin' years ago he was line fishing off the aft deck and caught something on the line, he was really struggling to pull it in and a guy on the aft house 02 deck yelled out 'wahoo!' and he turned back and was like YAH, CAUGHT A FISH! WA-HOOOO! not knowing that a wahoo is a type of fish, not a marioesque esclamation of excitement lmao To this day not only is he called Wahoo I learned his real name only after sailing as his watch partner (10hrs together every day for months on end) and only as someone making a joke about his name as he was leaving the vessel at the end of his hitch

[moon-stars01]

~Sugar Rush~

Hoshi x Reader

Author:pseudomint

Summary: Kwon soonyoung finds himself becoming a regular customer in a local ice cream shop after meeting mingyu’s cute co-worker. Sounds normal—unless you leave out the fact that he dislikes sweets.

Pairing:Hoshi(Svt) x reader

Gene:Collage/University,Ice Cream polar,attempt at humor,flirting,Smitten Hoshi,Mingyu third wheeling,Jun and his pick up lines

Rating:Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count:6100

———————-

~SUGAR RUSH~

Hoshi stares at the cute, pastel building, decorated with stickers of ice cream illustrations on the big, glass windows and door. He checks his phone screen once again, only to see the exact picture of the building he found on the internet glaring back at him mockingly.

This is the place. He finally knows where Mingyu’s secret workplace is. Don’t ask him where he got the address from (he might have.. owed a certain pink haired devil named Jeonghan). All he has to do now is to storm inside the ice cream shop and make fun of Mingyu for all it’s worth.

Being friends with that guy for a long time, Hoshi has a vague idea of why would Mingyu hide his workplace. The guy has always been vocal about his worship for anything hip-related, evident by his love for classic Pop, several ear piercings, and fashion style. He’s studying art so that he can become a tattoo artist. Moreover, he has a history as a delinquent back in middle school.

So, working in a local, cute ice cream shop near their campus might not be included in Mingyu’s list of Top 10 Dream Jobs, even as a part-timer.

Hoshi stifles a grin as he pushes the door open, earning a chime from the bell above. The shop is quite vacant, save for three customers, minding their own businesses in three different seats, the ice cream on their plates or cups half-eaten. One of them is bobbing their head to the popular pop song that is heard through the wall speakers. As Hoshi continues to scan the pastel themed shop, his eyes finally land on the glass display, filled with various flavors and colors of ice cream.Hoshi can already feel a toothache—he’s never been a fan of sweets, after all.

Noticing the absence of the employees behind the counters, Hoshi spots a bell placed beside the cash register. His hand hovers above it, uncertain whether calling the shop clerk with a damn bell is even polite—obviously, this isn’t some kind of five-star gourmet restaurant. Not that Hoshi has ever been into one.

Thankfully, before Hoshi could dive further into his impromptu crisis, an employee emerges from the back door. He’s wearing a pastel blue uniform shirt and a pink apron with the shop’s logo on the left side of his chest. Such soft colors, contrast with the dark scowl on his face.

“What the fuck are you doing here, bastard?” Mingyu snarls, clearly aggravated by the mere of Hoshi’s presence alone.

And Hoshi can’t hold it back anymore. He laughs, folding his body in half, one hand clutching his gut as the other supports himself by gripping the counter. Fuck, this is funnier than he initially thought. No matter how he imagined it, the image of Mingyu and a cute ice cream shop just can’t be merged. Yet, here he is—the reality presented right before Hoshi’s eyes.Hoshi wheezes again.

“Stop fucking laughing,” Mingyu hisses, hands clenching on both of his sides. His face is flushed from anger with a mixture of embarassment. “This is why I’d never fucking tell you about this place!”

“Oh, it’s never about the place, ‘Mingyu,”Hoshi replies, wiping a tear from the corner of his eyes. “It’s always been about you.”

Mingyu growls. “I’m seriously gonna kick you out.”

“I’m a paying customer,” Hoshi smirks back. “Treat me like one.”

“Then act like one,” Mingyu snaps, folding his arms across his chest, frown deepening. “Though I bet you can’t even handle the sweetness.”“Gimme the menu.”

“There’s one behind me, written on the chalkboard, asshole.”

“Wow, brilliant customer service,” Hoshi deadpans. “Don’t you have the printed one or something?”

“Aren’t you spoiled?” the hipster grumbles as he magically pulls out a menu, printed on a laminated paper from behind the counter. He doesn’t miss the opportunity to slap it against Hoshi’s chest.The act, however, is caught by one of Mingyu’s co-worker who’s suddenly coming out of the back room.

“Mingyu-oppa! Why did you do that to a customer?!” She screeches, horrified at her oppa’s rude behavior. She’s way shorter than Mingyu, and shorter than Kazuya. She has a (h/s) (h/c) hair that somehow looks soft and fluffy as the strands bounce everytime she moves.When their eyes finally meet,Hoshi’s lost the ability to speak.

Now, Hoshi’s never been one to believe in love at first sight, albeit having heard the idea of it in many sappy romance films. Hoshi’s also met many girls he considers as good-looking, but that’s it. There were no imaginary flowers or love-shaped bubbles or sprinkles of glitters around them, like a typical page of shoujo mangas. He didn’t feel his heart pounding harshly against his ribcages. He’s positive that he had never blushed at someone without any good reason.But his cheeks have never felt warmer than this moment.

The girl in front of him is unbelievably cute; she has an air of innocence around her that makes Hoshi want to scoop her up (no ice cream puns intended) in his arms and pinch those slightly chubby, round cheeks. Her cute button nose is perfect for a nose boop, and oh, how Hoshi wishes to nip her pink, plump lips.The girl’s tongue darts out to lick the very same lips, before she opens her mouth.

“Um.. are you okay? Is my co-worker hurting you?” She asks, brows furrowing in worry. Hoshi forces himself to look at her in the eyes, which is apparently a bad decision, because for the love of baseball, he’s never seen someone having such beautiful, molten e/c eyes—

“He’s fine,” Mingyu answers, shooting Hoshi a knowing look. “Sadly, I gotta admit that he’s a friend of mine, so don’t worry about him, y/n.”

“Oh!” Y/n brightens up, giving Hoshi an impression of a cute dog perking up its ears and wagging its tail. “Finally this l/n y/n gets to meet one of Mingyu-oppa’s friends!” She says joyfully with a voice a bit too loud. “May I also have the honor of knowing your name?”

Hoshi briefly glances at Mingyu, as if asking whether he should be concerned of Y/n’s odd, archaic way of speaking, but Mingyu’s expression works as a wordless assurance that it’s nothing to be worried about.Then, after eyeing Y/n’s extended arm as an offer for a handshake, Hoshi takes it firmly with a smirk.

“The name’s Kwon Soonyoung but you can call me Hoshi,” he purrs, his thumb tracing a circle on the back of Y/n’s hand. “It’s a real pleasure to meet you, Y/n.”His smirk broadens when a blush blooms on the girl’s cheeks.

“Uh—likewise!” Y/n retracts her hand too quickly. “Um, I’ll let you proceed with your order with Mingyu-oppa—“

“The thing is,” Hoshi cuts her off, leaning on the counter, showing a feigned, saddest expression on his face. “Mingyu was bullying me,” he sighs. The said guy promptly sputters a series of denials. “And this is my first time here. I think I deserve a discount for the bad customer service, don’t you think?”

Y/n lets out a scandalized gasp, giving Mingyu a nasty, chiding glare for treating their customer poorly, even if they’re ‘friends.’ “Then you have my approval!” She declares, jabbing a proud thumb at her own chin. “Don’t worry! I’ll tell boss about the discount later! Now, please pick any flavors!”Hoshi’s mouth twitches as a bubble of laughter arises from his chest. This kid is so gullible, so genuine, so interesting. He almost feels bad for tricking him.Mingyu kicks Y/n’s legs, “Idiot! Can’t you see that he’s tricking you?!”

When y/n shoots a puzzled look at Hoshi, Hoshi’s laughter breaks free from his mouth. In return, he gets a bristling y/n who goes out of her way to be on the other side of the counter just to shake Hoshi’s collar and send him colorful insults. Not the most professional thing an employee should do to a customer, but it’s worth for Hoshi’s own entertainment.In the end, Hoshi’s the one who gets kicked out of the shop before he causes more commotions.

Hoshi comes back at Mingyu’s next shift, mentally convincing himself that he’s here to annoy the hell out of the hipster, not because Mingyu accidentally reveals the fact that y/n has the same schedule with him.Yeah, right.

He peeks over the big windows, and hesitates. The shop is more crowded than his last visit, as expected from weekends. It’s mostly filled with couples and giggling high school girls. Hoshi decides to sit on the unoccupied outdoor seats by the window, waiting for the beeline to lessen.

Fortunately, it doesn’t take long for the patrons to decrease. By the time he enters the shop, the jingle of the doorbell earns him an automatic response from y/n who’s not even looking at the door. “Welcome to—“ she glances at Hoshi, then frowns. “—oh, it’s you.”

“Oh? Do I see another bad customer service?” Hoshi smirks, strutting closer the counter.

“I’ll show you customer service,” Mingyu threatens, glowering at him.

Hoshi holds up his hands in defense, grinning, “easy there, ‘Mingyu”

“So, are you going to order, Kwon Soonyoung?” Y/n squints at him in suspicion. Pushing aside his inner glee of noticing a mundane detail such as Y/n remembering his full name, Hoshi ponders of giving her an honest reply or not. Will they kick him out once again if he admits that he can barely handle sweet things?

“Hoshi?” Y/n’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts, and his previous scorn is replaced with an owlish blinking. It makes Kazuya more aware of how y/n’s long eyelashes brush her cheeks whenever she closes her eyelids for a brief second.Pretty.“Hoshi!”Hoshi coughs and answers distractedly. “Uh, yeah, sure. I’ll order something.”

Mingyu stares at him like he’s grown a pair of horns, but it’s more like that he can’t seem to grasp that Hoshi, of all people, agrees to order something sweet.

“You sound uncertain, but worry not! The ice cream here will change your mind,” Y/n chirps with an eye smile. Hoshi can feel a thousand of cupid arrows piercing through his fragile, gay heart.

“Right, because Hoshi absolutely loves ice cream,” Mingyu mutters under his breath beside his co-worker with a blatant sarcastic tone.Y/n doesn’t seem to hear it, much to Hoshi’s relief.

“So...” Hoshi drawls, scrutinizing the menu near the cash register. “Do you have a flavor that isn’t too...” he grimaces at the next word, “sweet?”

“That’s impossible, go home.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, Mingyu.”

“I can recommend you some,” Y/n replies, ignoring Mingyu and Hoshi’s glaring contest. “We have wasabi flavor, bitter melon flavor—“

“Some extreme recommendations you have there,” Hoshi sweatdrops.

“Hey! They taste fine, I guess,” Y/n looks hesitant herself. Hoshi wonders if the girl even understands basic marketing strategies—she could’ve at least pretended to be confident with her promotion. “I mean, I’m sure they’re better than natto flavored ice cream or anything.”

“You hate natto?” Hoshi smiles in amusement, inwardly happy to know one fact about Y/n.

“I despise it!” Y/n huffs, not even bothering to conceal her disgust. “Anyway! If you’re not interested with our out-of-the-world flavors, maybe you’d love our triple shot espresso ice cream! If you’re still not convinced, we still have a variety of diet frozen yogurts that are guaranteed to be low-sugar!”Hoshi hums at the mention of anything caffeine-related, “triple shot espresso ice cream doesn’t sound bad. Get me the smallest cup, y/n.”

“Roger!” Y/n beams, giving a military salute before she busies herself with Hoshi’s order. Her moves behind the counter are swift, practiced, and surprisingly not clumsy. Her hips sway a little to the beat of the music—whose great idea it is to play a suggestive jazz music at a fucking ice cream shop in Saturday afternoon?—but Hoshi’s not really complaining. In fact, he enjoys the show a bit too much; he doesn’t even realize that he’s been propping one arm on the counter to support his chin while watching y/n with a mushy smile.“Wipe that disgusting expression off your face,” Mingyu comments, unimpressed.“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah? As if I could overlook someone who looks like they’re seconds away from jumping my co-worker in public!” Mingyu hisses this time, still considerate enough to lower his volume.“Don’t worry, I’ll do that in private,” Hoshi winks.

“That’s not what I—“

“Do you want any additional toppings, Hoshi?” Y/n unintentionally interrupts their bickering. She’s now holding a small paper cup of a coffee-colored ice cream, head slightly to the side in an adorable manner, waiting for Hoshi’s response.

Although Hoshi’s brain is already short-circuited due to the amount of metaphorical sweetness that Y/n radiates, he still manages to croak out a reply of “almonds are fine”, in hoping that if the ice cream is still too sweet for his liking, the almonds would be able to balance the sugar.

Mingyu handles the payment without initiating any arguments with Hoshi for once, probably wanting to speed up the process of Hoshi leaving the shop. Either way, Hoshi has to leave indeed. He has other things to do, too.

“Thank you for purchasing, please come again~” come a chorus of synchronized phrase from Mingyu and Y/n; the former sounding bored and forced, while the latter sounding more cheerful.“I will,” Hoshi retorts jocosely, then flicks his gaze over Y/n, “if Y/n calls me her oppa, too.”

“Okay, Hoshi-oppa,” y/n breathes out without missing a beat. Her face instantly bursts into a myriad shades of red, complemented by a small, shy smile etched on her lips, and-Hoshi suddenly thinks he has a severe case of heart palpitations.

He inhales sharply, and turns his heels towards the door. “It’s decided, then,” he chuckles over his shoulder, giving his last smirk towards y/n, and exits the shop.

(He eats his ice cream on the way to his apartment and is genuinely surprised at the rich taste of coffee instead of sugar.It adds one more reason to visit the shop again.)

 Hoshi’s next visit includes an unwanted guest, much to Hoshi’s distaste.

For a better term, he was following Hoshi in secret. Usually, Hoshi would easily sense something behind his back, but the particular street that the ice cream shop is located at is always busy. It’s to be expected from a street that connects commercial, academic and several residential buildings. That being said, the crowd of people makes it hard for Hoshi to notice whether someone is following him or not.In the end, Jun makes his presence known loudly by the time he enters the shop.

“Oi, Hoshi! You refused to hang out with me just to buy some ice cream?!” he stomps his foot on the ground. “Wait, I thought you don’t like ice—“

Hoshi, who’s currently leaning on the counter right in front of Y/n, automatically massages the bridge of his nose and quickly interjects the purple haired before he spouts something unnecessary. “Jun, did you really follow me all the way here?”

“Does it matter?” the purple haired shrugs, sticking his nose up in the air. “I’m here now. That’s what you get from ditching me.”

Hoshi sighs in exasperation, “I did not ditch you. I told you to reschedule our hang out.”

“Same thing,” Jun scoffs stubbornly.

Mingyu bashes his forehead on the counter, emitting a depressed aura all over the shop. “Great. There goes all of my peace at work.”

“Oh, Mingyu! Fancy meeting you here!” Jun greets with a grin. “So you’re the reason why Hoshi’s here?”

“No,” both Mingyu and Hoshi say flatly.

“Um, are you going to order?” Y/n, who’s been observing the situation, speaks up, attracting a pair of black orbs towards him. Then, Jun regards Hoshi and Y/n, back and forth, in a thoughtful manner.

“Oh ho? I see now,” he grins wickedly, elbowing Hoshi to the side and takes over his place, resulting in the dancer stumbling and hitting the glass display of ice cream. Paying no attention to Hoshi’s heated glare, Jun leans over the counter and brings his face closer to Y/n. “You’re pretty cute, I guess. Hoshi has a good taste.”Y/n makes a choking noise from her throat, and Hoshi’s left eye twitches.

“Who the heck are you?” Y/n scrunches her nose, taking one step backwards defensively.

“Wen Junhui, but you can call me darling,” Jun smiles flirtatiously. Y/n only stares back with a palpable discomfort on her face.

“...Then, are you going to order?” She repeats hesitantly.

“Sure. As long as you’re included as the bonus.”

“Uh,” y/n frowns deeper. “May I know the flavor of your choice?”

“Anything would do,” Jun answers, “but if you were an ice cream, you’d be my favorite flavor.”

“What?”

“And I know you’d like me too,” jun then lowers his voice into a whisper, like he’s going to tell the world’s deepest secret, “because I have an 8” popsicle down there.”

Mingyu’s shoulders are shaking from laughter, finding the whole situation amusing and ridiculous. Any other day, Hoshi would, too, but right now, he only feels a second-hand embarassment from Jun’s abhorrent pick-up lines. Even y/n looks utterly unimpressed by Jun’s flirting.

“Alright, Jun, that’s enough,” Hoshi interjects impatiently. “No one wants to know about your nonexistent 8” popsicle dick.”Mingyu laughs louder.

“Tch, you’re no fun, Hoshi,” Jun glares at him childishly, then whirls his body towards Y/n crossing his arms in his usual bossy manner. “Fine, I’ll order something. Get me a big cup of butterscotch and vanilla ice cream with marshmallows and oreos on top.”

“...Coming right up,” slightly taken aback by the change of attitude, y/n mutters and wordlessly scoops the ice cream into the cup, while Hoshi is inwardly cringing from the amount of sugar Jun’s order has.

The purple haired pays and finally leaves the shop, not before gesturing a V-sign to his eyes and then to Hoshi’s—indicating that their conversation isn’t over.

Hoshi shakes his head. “There’s nothing to be discussed in the first place,” he mumbles under his breath. Jun dragged himself into this situation. Then again, Hoshi’s known Jun long enough to tell that the purple haired wasn’t seriously flirting with Y/n. The dancer could properly make his fangirls swoon if he wanted to.

Looking back to his prior act, however... it’s almost as if he was testing Hoshi, because his eyes were holding a familiar knowing gleam—the exact glint in Mingyu ’s eyes when Hoshi first met y/n.

“But seriously, who is he?!” Y/n fumes. “I can’t believe he made a dick joke straight to my face!”

“He’s Hoshi’s ex,” Mingyu grins, nudging

y/n with his elbow. The younger blanches, mouth gaping upon hearing the information.

“Yup, and I’m totally dating you, Mingyu,” Hoshi rolls his eyes.

“R-really?!” Y/n’s eyes grow as wide as a saucer. Hoshi bites back a grin, almost forgetting how gullible Y/n is.

“Relax, we’re lying,” he snorts. “Can I take my order now?”

“Oh, right!” Y/n straightens her back, although she doesn’t seem to be convinced by Hoshi’s reassurance.

Hoshi selects the exact menu he ordered on his last visit, although this time he chooses a cone rather than a paper cup. He also makes a mental note to try another variety of topping next time.

“You two looks close,” y/n comments all of a sudden as she works behind the counter. It doesn’t take a genius to know who Y/n is talking about.“Jun’s my childhood friend,” Hoshi

smiles, quirking an eyebrow at Y/n’s pout. She’s sulking, for some unknown reason, albeit Hoshi has a silly, vague (and hopeful) idea of it. “Rest assured, there’s nothing between us,” Hoshi continues, watching how Y/n subtly relaxes her shoulders. “That goes for me and Mingyu, too,” she adds as an afterthought. Mingyu has never nodded so aggresively.

“That explains why you guys are on a first name basis,” Y/n says abashedly, avoiding Hoshi’s gaze. “B-but! Your relationship is none of my business, of course! This

l/n y/n was just curious, please forgive me for prying!”

Still blushing, she shoves the cone under Hoshi’s nose. Hoshi chuckles and takes it, purposely brushing their fingers together, deepening y/n’s blush. Satisfaction sprouts inside his chest—even without any cheesy pick-up lines, y/n’s naturally a blushing mess around him.Adorable.

“This is sickening to watch,” Mingyu groans, “now pay up, bastard.”

Out of reflex, Hoshi gives him another snide remarks about bad customer service (again), to which Mingyu retaliates with another empty threats.

The doorbell jingles as two chatting customers enter the shop, and at the same time, it’s Hoshi’s cue to leave. He looks back at Y/n, who’s unexpectedly staring at him in silence, and grins cheekily when Y/n flinches due to being caught.“See you next time,” Hoshi says in soft tone, before he playfully boops y/n’s on the nose.

Y/n doesn’t—can’t—reply because she has to serve the next customers, but she manages to send a meek smile towards Hoshi’s direction.

Fuck, Hoshi thinks later, as he ambles back to his place. He can’t believe he finally had the balls to nose boop y/n. He can’t erase y/n’s blushing face from his mind. He can’t stop smiling giddily right now—passersby are probably whispering about him, but he couldn’t care less.All he cares is that he’s honestly in some deep shit.

~~~~~~

 Hoshi spends the next few weeks coming to the ice cream shop. He sometimes misses a day or two, partially due to being exhausted by dancing practice or just college in general. Another reason is because he’s fed up with eating ice cream (no matter how much he’s come to tolerate it a little ever since coming to the shop) and his diet as an athlete doesn’t allow him to overeat anything sweet. Which is ridiculous, since he doesn’t have other excuses to see Y/n; visiting the shop frequently without buying anything would be weird. Though, as days go by, he becomes more creative with his orders, like switching to low-sugar frozen yogurts or an iced Americano float (with the float being removed, much to Y/n’s confusion). Soon, he also finds out the existence of food—such as toasts and grilled sausages—in the shop’s menu.(“You need to stop ogling at Y/n and pay attention to our menu instead,” Mingyu once chastised wryly.)

Regardless, Hoshi enjoys most of his visits. Y/n is a fun person to talk to; Hoshi is often swayed by her personality and ends up being more talkative than he actually is, earning a frown from Mingyu. Later, Y/n reveals that she’s a dancer at Hoshi and Mingyu’s rival college, and she has jokingly asked Hoshi several times to dance against her.Hoshi’s never given an outright answer, however. As much as he wants to meet up with Y/n outside of the shop, he wants it as a date.

And that’s where the problem lies. He doesn’t know how to properly bring it up. He could ask Y/n in the shop, right beside Mingyu, but getting rejected in public would be awkward. In the end, that thought is always buried to the back of his mind.

Today is no different. Hoshi visits the the shop again—after being absent for a week prior—with no intentions of bringing up the date. As usual, he only wants to see the dancer. Even before stepping his feet inside, his heart thumps in anticipation to Y/n’s welcoming smile. So, as soon as he pushes the door open only to notice the absence of one of the workers behind the counters, his face falls.

“Asshole, I should’ve gotten offended of how disappointed your face is when you saw me instead of Y/n,” Mingyu scowls, to which Hoshi grins sheepishly. “She’s gonna be late today. I know what you’re thinking—she’s fine. There aren’t any dangerous emergencies or something like that, calm down.”

“I am calm,” Hoshi replies, burying his hands into his pockets. “I know she’s gonna be fine. She has such a caring co-worker after all,” he smirks at Kuramochi, who huffs in slight embarassment.

“Shut up. Who knows what stupid thing she’s gonna do,” the hipster’s lips curl downwards, an attempt to hold back his smile. “Anyway, since she’s not here yet, I can finally interrogate you.”

“What is there to interrogate?”

“What is y/n to you?” Mingyu ignores his words, giving him a pointed look instead. “If you’re only playing with her, Hoshi, I swear – “

“Oi, can’t you trust me a little?” Hoshi sweatdrops. “Do I look like some kind of heartthrob? You know me better than that, ‘Mingyu.”

“With your face, it’s easy to become one.”

“Very flattering.”

“Anyway, I’m being fucking serious right now,” Mingyu glowers at the dancer solemnly. “Tell me what you want from her.”

Hoshi eventually sighs, and briefly scans the whole shop. Luckily, it’s one of the weekdays, so there aren’t many customers inside. Besides, they’re too engrossed in their conversations or electronical devices to eavesdrop on Hoshi and Mingyu.

“Look, I don’t want anything from her,” Hoshi begins slowly, but he’s only rewarded with a skeptical look from Mingyu. “Okay, maybe I’ve been meaning to ask her on a date, but—“ he narrows his eyes at the hipster. “Wait, she’s single, right?”

“Isn’t it a bit too late to be asking that?” Mingyu purses his lips into a thin line.

“Oh, Hoshi, you’re here!”

Both the hipster and the dancer whip their head alarmingly to the familiar voice. There stands y/n with her trademark grin, her bag slung around her shoulder. Panic blossoms inside of Hoshi’s chest—he didn’t hear the jingle of the doorbell, and judging from Mingyu’s startled response, he didn’t, too. They don’t know how long has the dancer been standing there. It’d be bad if Y/n managed to hear their conversation.

So, Hoshi studies y/n’s facial expression, searching for something, but the dancer only looks perplexed—probably due to Hoshi’s sudden stillness.

“Hoshi?” Y/n blinks up at him, making Hoshi more conscious of their height difference. Eyes trailing down to her neck, the pastel-colored collar of the shop’s uniform peeks out of her oversized sweater that falls until her mid-thigh, with the sleeves covering up her whole hands.

Sweater paws, Hoshi’s mind shuts down as tiny Hoshi’s inside his brain run in circles, screaming “ABORT! ABORT!” with high-pitched voices. She’s fucking wearing sweater paws.

“Hoshi-oppa!” Y/n frowns, successfully drawing Hoshi’s attention. “Don’t zone out like that, you’re scaring me.”

“Right, sorry,” the dancer mutters as he watches Y/n disappearing into the back room, before she shows up again without her sweater while tying the apron on her lower back.

“I see that you haven’t ordered something!” Y/n grins brightly, this time placing both of her hands on her hips. “So, what are you here for today, Hoshi?”

Hoshi, still distracted, racks his brain to all of the menu he’s ordered in the past. Triple shots espresso ice cream with almonds. Iced americano float, but without the float. Wasabi ice cream because he was feeling adventurous. Hazelnut spread and sliced banana on toast—

No, that’s not What hoshi wants all of this time. He wants—

“You,” he blurts out, mumbling, unaware of Mingyu choking in the background. However, when he notices the lack of response from the dancer, the haze in his brain suddenly dissipates, and everything becomes crystal clear again. “Shit, I mean—“

“Okay,” Y/n says, e/c orbs shyly peeking from underneath her lashes towards Hoshi.

“I was—huh, what?” Hoshi pauses, dumbfounded.

“I said okay,” Y/n averts her eyes, playing with the hem of her apron. “You can have me.”

Hoshi stares and stares, trying to process Y/n’s affirmation. That sounds too suggestive—too good to be true. Maybe his brain is tricking him. Maybe this is only a scene that he unconsciously creates inside his mind which is brought to life in a form of hallucination.

But when Y/n starts to fidget under his gaze, Hoshi lets his brain register the fact that this is, indeed, a reality.

As the gears inside him begin to work again, Hoshi doesn’t pass the chance to poke some fun at Y/n’s answer which basically serves as a free teasing material for Hoshi to use.

“Oh? How bold,” he then comments, smirking in satisfaction as he observes how realization gradually dawns on Y/n’s face.

“I didn’t mean to phrase it like that!” the dancer exclaims defensively, her cheeks now tainted with red. “Y-you were the one who blurted out weird things in the first place!”

“Sorry, sorry~” Hoshi grins unapologetically, to which Y/n pouts at. “But, as tempting as it sounds, you should let me take you on a date first, y’know,” he continues, his playful grin faltering a little due to slight nervousness.

To his relief, Y/n utters a timid “okay” and nods, a tint of pink still decorating her cheeks. At that, Hoshi doesn’t bother to hide the ever-growing smile on his lips and an excited glance to Mingyu who’s pretending to read a magazine and acting all disinterested, albeit the small curl on the corner of his mouth tells otherwise.

The next thing Hoshi knows is him exchanging phone numbers with the dancer and discussing their date in a short stretch of time due to the arrival of a group of customers.

Hoshi doesn’t get any ice cream that day, but he does get something—someone—sweeter in return.

 ~Three months later~

 Hoshi sips on his hot, black coffee, the steam fogging up the lenses of his glasses. He steps aside when a patron comes out of the shop hurriedly, but he manages to halt the door from closing with his right knee. Hoshi then opens the door big enough for his body to get inside as the familiar chime of the doorbell greets his ears. The shop is silent, empty without customers, highly caused by the “CLOSED” sign on the door with a red, thick font.“I’m sorry, we’re already closed—“ Y/n says from Hoshi’s left side while stacking some brochures. When she finally turns her head towards the door, a beatific smile appears on her face. “Oh! Hoshi.”

Hoshi smiles back, placing his coffee on the counter and leans towards Y/n, to which the latter eagerly closes the gap between their mouths. They share a quick kiss as a greeting, before Hoshi withdraws slightly.

“Hey,” he murmurs, lips brushing over

y/n’s. He steals one or two more kisses, just because he can’t help himself.

“Hi to you too,” Y/n whispers, giggling. Hoshi cradles his lover’s cheeks with one of his palms, prompting Y/n to nuzzle against it. From here, he can also make out Y/n’s e/c eyes twinkling in delight—so captivating and blinding that it stupefies him.

“For someone who’s on her last day of work, you sure look happy,” Hoshi comments, arching an amused brow.

“I am happy!” Y/n replies, pulling away fully to finish her tidying duty. She moves swiftly behind the counters, the sole of her shoes creating noisy sounds against the tiled floor. “But not in a way you’re thinking.”

“Enlighten me, then,” Hoshi says, bringing the paper cup of his half-drunk coffee to his mouth and takes a sip.

“I like this job,” Y/n confesses, finishing her work and untying her apron. “My co-workers are nice, and my boss is generous to give me discounted ice cream.”

“I think the latter plays a bigger part,” Hoshi teases, knowing Y/n’s sweet tooth.

“Shut up,” the dancer juts her tongue out. “Meeting you here is what makes this job more special,” Y/n casually states, offering a smug smirk at Hoshi’s flabbergasted expression.

“Wow, Y/n,” he breathes out, before whistling with a shake of head. “You sure become bolder with your words nowadays.”

“Wh-what’s that supposed to mean?!”Y/n questions, pupils turning cat-like.Hoshi hums. “Well, you used to blush so much around me—“

“That’s – “ as if on cue, red creeps up to y/n’s cheek. “That’s because you always gave me those kind of eyes and used that kind of voice—!”

“What about now?”hoshi smirks, revelling in the way Y/n gets all worked up because of him. A nasty personality he has, indeed.

“Ugh, I’m not gonna talk about it!” the dancer scrunches her nose, a habit that Hoshi’s taken to notice whenever Y/n is frustrated. “Anyway! I was talking why I feel happy to quit work! It’s because I can spend more time with you now!”If Hoshi’s heart pulsates rapidly due to the abrupt swarm of affections in his veins, he does a great job of hiding it. “The real reason why you quit is because of the upcoming dancer season. We’d still be busy, either way,” he points out instead.

“Must you be so pessimistic, Hoshi?” Y/n pouts, looking a little dejected. Hoshi exhales guiltily.

“My bad,” he chuckles, ruffling the crown of Y/n’s head. “You know that I’d always try to make time for you, right, Y/n?”

“Of course you do, you whipped asshole. Only you would come to a shop that sells something you dislike.”

“Mingyu-oppa!” Y/n jumps due to

Mingyu’s unannounced appearance from the back room, before gawking at his revelation. “Wait, what? Does Hoshi not like ice cream?”

“Ask him yourself,” Mingyu shrugs.

Y/n immediately whirls towards Hoshi, displaying her best puppy face to lure the truth out of her boyfriend. And concede Hoshi does, not before shooting daggers at a snickering Mingyu.

“Yes, y/n, I don’t eat much sweets. You happy now?” he admits reluctantly, tugging the collar of his jacket in embarassment.

“Oh my god, Hoshi!” Sawamura bounces on her feet. “After all of this time, you didn’t come here for the ice cream?!”

Hoshi sighs, not before downing the remnant of his coffee and throwing it in the nearest trash bin. “I don’t see what the issue is. It’s not like I exactly loathe ice cream, I just can’t handle it if it’s too sweet—“Y/n, however, wastes no time to approach Hoshi on the other side of the counter, circling her arms around Hoshi’s neck and kisses him hard on the mouth.

The hipster groans in agony, covering his face with his right palm. “This isn’t the outcome that I wanted,” he bemoans, lamenting in his misery.

Hoshi laughs nasally, eyes closing in pure mirth as Y/n continues to pepper kisses on his face. It eggs Mingyu even more as he seethes in irritation.“Okay, stop it, Y/n! Why the fuck are you so pleased at the idea of Hoshi trying to get himself diabetes for you?”

“Oi, that’s too exaggerating, don’t you think?” Hoshi sweatdrops.

Y/n ends her ministration and frowns at Mingyu. “But Mingyu-oppa! If I were in Hoshi’s shoes, I’d do the same! But currently he’s not working in a natto-based restaurant or something, so I shall reward his bravery in some other way!”

“Don’t do it here,” Mingyu snaps, “I’ve cleaned and locked all shit in the back room while you were busy with that idiot. Grab your bag and sweater and just go home.”Teary-eyed, Y/n beams brightly, “I express my sincerest gratitude for you,

Mingyu-oppa!” She exclaims, before dashing to the back room to collect her belongings.“Yeah, yeah,” Mingyu waves her off, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t read too much into it. It’s my last day too, figures I’d do more than usual.”

“Aw, it wouldn’t hurt to admit that you care for her, ‘Mingyu,” Hoshi coos.

“And you!” Mingyu then throws the dancer a resentful look. “You owe me for all of the time you’ve made me into a fucking thirdwheel, bastard!”

At that moment, Y/n has come back, already clad in her warm, oversized sweater, and proceeds to stand next to Hoshi. That’s when an idea strikes him.

“Thirdwheel?” Hoshi asks, tilting his head at Mingyu in a faux innocuousness. He pulls his unsuspecting girlfriend closer by the waist, to which Y/n lets out a soft gasp. “Whatever do you mean by that, Mingyu?”

“Huh?” Mingyu croaks out, widening his eyes when Hoshi lowers his head to Y/n’s face with a shit-eating grin.

“What are you – shit, don’t you two dare making out again – give me a damn break, I’m trying to close the shop here! If you two don’t stop right now, I’m gonna kick out both of you with a fucking broom – oi, did you hear me?! Alright, for fuck’s sake, Y/n, save the moan for later and GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE—“

[aconitemare]

[Rory/Paris] Tacos - Paris

AO3

Summary: “Red, purple, green — where the hell is it?” Paris mutters wildly, and then she’s off across the room again, her hair whipping over her shoulder, the scent of strawberries-and-cream in her wake. 

“Perhaps I’ll go blonde,” Rory muses and wonders, briefly, if Paris is trying to find the right panties for her date. 

Rory counts Dean’s breaths on the phone. One, two, three, and he says something. She replies back. He laughs softly, and there’s another beat before he says something again. She replies, not fully paying attention to either of them. Behind her, Paris is a flurry of activity. Rory’s eyes keep getting dragged over to her, flashes of long, blonde hair whirling across the cramped floor of their hotel room.

Dean says something again. Rory responds without thought. This is nice. She enjoys this. She enjoys sitting in the chair, listening to Dean and his slow, unwinding laugh and his unhurried words. He talks like they have all the time in the world. And Rory would like that very much, to just always be in this little hotel room, watching Paris bounce off the walls like a pinball while Dean’s soft voice brings home to her. 

“My plane gets in at three,” Rory informs, flipping the pen between her fingers. She has a notebook balanced on her thigh, Dean’s name written in the corner with nothing else. Her idea was to simply write down whatever thoughts she had while talking to Dean on the phone, and instead of saying those thoughts, just write them down on the paper and then come up with something else to actually say right now. 

But she can’t concentrate on Dean with Paris speculating over the rate of growth concerning stress-induced back acne. This is a legitimate concern of Paris's, and it’s hilarious, because Paris never breaks out. It’s kind of impressive, really, how smooth Paris's skin always is. Rory’s jealous, for sure.

Rory wonders if it’s worth telling Paris this, that Rory envies her. Paris is finally nearing Rory’s chair, her fitted dress changing the square-like silhouette of the Chilton uniform Rory is used to.

“My plane gets in at six,” Dean says.

Rory almost tells Paris that she looks nice, turns around in her seat to tell her that, but Paris is in a fit, throwing scraps of clothing out of her bureau and onto her bed.

“That gives me three hours to look presentable,” Rory tells Dean. 

“Red, purple, green — where the hell is it?” Paris mutters wildly, and then she’s off across the room again, her hair whipping over her shoulder, the scent of strawberries-and-cream in her wake. 

“Perhaps I’ll go blonde,” Rory muses and wonders, briefly, if Paris is trying to find the right panties for her date. 

“I strongly request that you don’t,” Dean says.

But no, Rory realizes with a hint of disappointment. It’s just a bunch of cardigans on Paris's bed. So not her designated panty drawer, like Rory had thought. That would’ve been funnier. Weird place for cardigans, though, the top drawer of her dresser. That seems more of a closet thing, doesn’t it? 

She almost says as much to Dean, but he probably wouldn’t know what she was talking about, she’d have to slow down and explain just to capture the sheer chaos that is Paris, and then it would just be weird because she’d be talking about Paris's possible underwear locations to her boyfriend in front of the said Paris. Would that be weird? What even is the proper etiquette here, because Rory would like to think she’s reached a point in both her relationship with Dean and her friendship with Paris where she can feel comfortable to talk to the former about the latter’s underwear.

Dean says something again, something warm and nice and cozy like the bed Rory misses back home, and then Paris has stopped in her mad dash.

“Hey — hey! Stop being cute! I need help here!” Rory swings around in her chair to see Paris's arms lifted above her head, sweeping her hair into a ponytail. 

“I have to go,” Rory says immediately. “Paris is having a meltdown.” 

“Why?” And Dean’s voice is genuinely curious, which Rory likes. She likes it when others ask about Paris. He’s a good boyfriend to ask. 

“She has a date tonight,” Rory answers, biting her tongue on a very funny joke about Paris treating the idea of dating someone with the same severity as a journalist entering an active battlefield in a foreign because the airfare was covered.

Oh, she can tell him that in the letter! 

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Paris scolds behind Rory. 

Rory turns around again. Paris has her hands on her torso, her long fingers curving over her hips. 

“How do you know he sounded surprised?” Rory asks, because there’s no way she can overhear soft-spoken Dean over the cacophony of panic in her mind. Or maybe she can. She’s Paris, after all. She’s always ahead.

“Because I’m a genius, Rory,” Paris retorts, standing in the middle of their room with her hair down again. Now that she’s closer to the light, Rory can make out the faintest tinge of red in her locks. Paris, a strawberry blonde. Who would have thought?

Paris drops her arms with a loud clap against her legs. “I have deep and powerful clairvoyant abilities,” she continues, nodding her head rapidly so that her hair falls over her shoulders, framing the delicate silver necklace above her breast. But her eyes are fierce and irritated, and Rory remembers that despite the bliss granted earlier by her debate victory, Paris has a habit of talking to you like you’re a very stupid child when she’s snapped. Which is the norm for Paris, honestly, with her recent bout of sanity being the true cause for concern. 

“Oh, boy,” Rory says, more because well-timed condescension works best to quell Paris's rising venom than out of real dread. 

“For example!” Paris commences, “I can instantly deduce that when someone hears the name, ‘Paris,’ in the same sentence with the word, ‘date’ — jaws will drop. Confused looks will cover faces. Words like, ‘How?’ and ‘Why?’ and ‘Quick, Bob, get the children in the minivan because the world is obviously coming to an end’ will immediately fly out of people’s mouths!”

Dean’s steady breaths have all but been drowned out by the increasingly loud and hurried words spilling out of Paris. “I have to go,” Rory repeats. 

“You sure it’s safe?” Dean asks, and it’s a joke, Rory thinks, but it reminds her of Jess and how everyone thinks she’s in danger from standing too close to passionate people. Like they’re radiating life and she might catch it. 

“I’ll be fine,” Rory answers. “I’ll see you Friday.”

“See you Friday. I love you.”

Paris hits the desk or something and when Rory looks over, her hair has gotten somehow crazier in the last minute and her hair face is red in anger. “That’s it! I’m shaving my head!” she declares.

Something like panic, maybe some shared psychosis thing from Prolonged Paris Exposure, strikes Rory’s heart and she leaps from her seat, throwing Dean a quick “gotta go” before hanging up and covering the distance between them.

“Okay, Paris,” Rory starts out firmly, and then consciously softens her voice, “you have got to calm down. ” 

Paris is busying herself with trying to tie a ponytail so punishingly tight that it would put 13th-century Flagellants to shame. “I had a black sweater and now it’s gone,” Paris rushes out, and Rory wishes she could temporarily be inside Paris's head just to make sure that Paris is aware that no lives are at stake over her wardrobe for a date she couldn’t be bothered to stop stuffing her face with a sandwich for when accepting. 

“I’m now just talking about right now. In general, you need to calm down.” Rory does her best to inject some authority in her voice. Maybe like their teacher. Max — Mr. Medina, Rory corrects herself — was always good at getting Paris to show up with his magically “we come in peace, Paris Geller” voice. 

No such luck here, unfortunately, Rory’s powers to calm remain quite unmagical. 

“He’s almost here!” Paris insists, having finally wrangled her hair into submission. “I’m not dressed, my makeup’s not done, and I haven’t gone through the Zagat yet to pick a restaurant!” 

Rory has to give it to her, that’s a lot to do in a very short amount of time. This may be one of those rare moments where Paris is genuinely underprepared and not just indiscriminately anxious. Although still, she could win awards for the sheer height of this mountain she’s managed to build from one humble molehill. 

“Why don’t you just let him pick out the restaurant?” This is the easiest problem to fix. And besides, he asked her out, he should have know. The asker-outer is the one responsible for the first date itinerary.

Unfortunately, Paris's brows only crumple further down her nose, which Rory has the passing thought is quite straight and elegant. What is Paris, a prize horse? Who likes noses? Should Rory be thinking about noses more, if this is going to be a thing for her?

“What if he doesn’t have a Zagat?” Paris asks, and Rory is almost certain he doesn’t have one because Rory wasn’t aware of the critical existence of the Zagat until her and Paris shacked up together. Or, no, that’s the wrong phrase. That’s something grandma would say about a couple she didn’t like.

“Well then, he’ll wing it.”

Cohabiting? Yikes. Roomed? Yeah, that’s what it is. Bunked. Even better. She wishes her mom were here to discuss this terminology with. 

“‘Wing it’?” Paris demands. Rory nods, and this sets Paris off. Damn. “How come other girls get planned out dinners?” she asks, and Rory would point out that she may actually be getting a planned-out dinner, that Rory has no idea Jamie’s degree of Zagatness or general knowledge of the city they’ve been in for months, but there is no stopping a speeding train. 

“Roses, candy, rose petals thrown on the floor — and I get ‘wing it’!” Paris exclaims.

Rory shoots for an optimistic smile and says, “Well, you don’t know that you’ve got ‘wing it.’” And who gets rose petals on the first date? Should Rory be getting rose petals? Probably not, she’s not really a rose petals girl, although apparently Paris is, and Rory does wish her the best in this quest for de-limbed flowers. Paris deserves them.

“No, I do, I’ve got ‘wing it,’” says Paris. She looks down at the ground then. “I can’t do this.”

“What?” Rory asks, because there’s a lot at the moment that Paris seems like she can’t do. Reading the Zagat, for example.

“Date,” is what Paris says instead, however. “I can’t date ,” she repeats, heavy weight falling on the last word. “I’m not genetically set up for it.”

And there’s the resigned self-hatred that always gets Rory to care in the end, because even though Paris isn’t much of a puppy, Rory still gets no pleasure in kicking her. 

Rory’s brows pinch. Correction: she gets no pleasure in seeing Paris kick herself. That’s just wrong, after all, and totally in defiance of the checks and balances overachievers like Paris need. “Not true,” Rory gently assures, because if Paris does all the kicking, there will be none of her left when it’s Rory’s turn. How will she ever be able to put Paris back in her place if all she can think of is the time Paris cancelled her first and only date when he was right outside the door so she could cry into many different colored cardigans? 

Paris leans forward with her eyes bugging out as if she can impress upon Rory, through proximity, the scientific veracity of undateable genes. “I get no pleasure out off the prospect or the preparation. I’m covered in hives. I’ve showered four times and for what? Some guy who doesn’t even have the brains to buy a Zagat so we don’t wind up in a restaurant that’s REALLY just a front for a cocaine-laundering ring?”

Paris's speech begins over-enunciated and gradually picks up speed until it’s just a slur of sounds vaguely Germanic in origin. There’s no way Rory is calming her down at this point. It’s time for action. They are now women of action. Rory rests both her palms on Paris's shoulder and pushes her down so that Paris's butt lands at the edge of her bed. 

“Sit,” she orders and heads to the desk. She gathers Paris's open makeup kit while behind her, Paris rambles on. 

“It’s a dare. He was dared to take me out.” And Paris's tone implies she thinks she’s onto something. “I bet Trent Lott was behind this.”

Rory sits down on the small bed beside Paris. “Trent Lott did not dare Jamie to take you out,” Rory says without inflection, having now acquired a solution to implement that doesn’t require cycling through tones until she finds the Magical Medina one that compels Paris to hold all her questions till the end.

When Rory twists around, eyeshadow and brush in hand, Paris is fully turned into her, legs crossed and hands on the small space between their laps. 

“Close,” Rory instructs, and Paris does without argument, an instant flutter of eyes. On command, her face smooths out, making herself a canvas for Rory. And Rory, for her part, doesn’t linger in the scant air between their faces, doesn’t think about how she never imagined Paris would trust her enough with her face or do something just because Rory said to.

Rory chooses a light lavender color to tie the pink roses of her dress with the black lace lining her shoulders and chest.

“Jamie likes you, and he asked you out because he likes you. Now look up.”

Again, just like that, Paris's eyes flutter open to stare at the ceiling. They’re a deep, dark brown that Jamie might even find soulful. Rory would call them intense. She adds a hint of eyeshadow to the corners of Paris's eyes, not for any reason in particular, as she’s going so light you can barely see it. But she likes the effect anyway, she thinks, because Paris's eyes do look pretty, upturned and blown wide and not staring Rory down but looking where she tells her to.

 “Maybe I shouldn’t go. I mean, what if I fall for him and he doesn’t like me?” 

“Then you’ll find someone else,” Rory says simply, because it’s true. Paris could leave her date tonight and find someone within the hour. She’s beautiful in a way she’s not at Chilton. If Tristan had seen Paris like this, in this rosy dress that brings out the soft blush of her skin, that dips low so you can see the wild rise and fall of her breaths — well, maybe Jamie wouldn’t have had the chance to. So it’s for the best that Paris is in her and Rory’s room smelling of strawberries and cream for the first time, and not somewhere else before they had been.

Not quite friends.

Paris's voice is quiet now and a little tremulous. “But what if there is no one else?” 

Rory doesn’t think that’s a terrible option. She sets the eyeshadow down. “Then you’ll buy some cats,” she answers, grinning, because Paris brings out the cruelty in her. 

This is evidently not the right answer, though, because Paris's breath hitches and her next sentence is more forceful. “I wish knew if he was right for me, you know? So I don’t — put myself through all of this for nothing? I mean, women fall for men who are wrong for them all of the time, and then they get sidetracked from their goals.”

Rory concentrates on getting the bronzer onto the puffball and does not think about the day of her mom’s college graduation, or how Rory sat on a bus for hours thinking of nothing but how hard her mom had worked for this after everything with dad in high school, and whether Louise was actually going to send her the notes she had missed from cutting school to be with the boy her mom hated.

“They give up careers and become alcoholics,” Paris continues, “and — if you’re Sunny von Bulow — wake up in a coma, completely incapable of stopping Glenn Close from playing you in a movie.”

Rory determinedly listens to none of this, merely brushes Paris's high cheekbones with a layer of bronzer that transforms Paris in seconds from the primrose princess she had dressed herself as and into something much older and dangerous. 

Rory’s eyes safely navigate away from Paris's face to her shoulders, near where her long ponytail whispers at her neck. When Paris stops talking, Rory announces, “I think you should wear your hair down,” and stands up to correct this.

“How do know if a guy’s right for you?” Paris asks. Rory already has her fingers up, slowly working their way into the elastic so she doesn’t accidentally pull too hard.

“You just have to feel it,” Rory says and hopes she comes off more confident than she is. Paris's hair falls out effortlessly once she finds the right looseness, and it pours through Rory’s fingers like satin. 

“All I feel is my back breaking out,” Paris says miserably.

Rory runs her fingers through the tresses of blonde hair, separating them into thirds and combing through them. “You’ll know, okay? You just have to let it happen.” Rory drapes some of Paris's hair over her shoulder, letting the waves cascade down her the expanse of warm skin exposed by the low neckline. 

She parts more of Paris's hair, arranging the new section so it comes down her other shoulder. “And then, probably when you’re not looking, you’ll find someone who... complements you,” Rory settles on.

Paris does not sound sold, though. “Meaning?”

Rory allows herself to play a few seconds more with Paris's hair before retrieving the brush. “Someone who likes what you like, or listens to the same music,” she explains, beginning the brush at the crown of Paris's head and following through to the ends. “Or likes to trash the same movies,” she adds, because now Reversal of Fortune is on her mind and it was somehow both audacious and popcorn-binge-inducing levels of boring. 

“Someone compatible,” Rory concludes. But then she remembers Dean, Dean who likes every book Rory likes, who Rory hadn’t kissed like her heart was in his mouth that day at Sookie’s wedding. She adds, “But not so compatible that they’re boring.”

“Someone who’s compatible but not compatible,” Paris says slowly, like it’s a math problem. And maybe it is to Paris, who tends to look at the world like it’s a miscalculation she can’t figure out or a test she didn’t study for.

But Paris looks so human now, made of pinks and golds, lace and satin. Skin and breath. “Yeah, kind of,” Rory answers. She fancies herself a bit of a teacher at the moment, though she never would’ve pictured Paris a willing student. It’s a nice thought, Rory having a hand in softening Paris. 

She suddenly wants to see Paris's face, just to know if there’s something different about it. She comes around the bed. “I mean, you respect each other’s opinions and you can laugh at the same jokes,” she explains, brushing her fingers through Paris's hair. She does look softer, Rory thinks, and it’s almost staggering to realize that she’s petting Paris Geller’s hair — and Paris isn’t growling or trying to bite Rory’s arm off. 

Hot and cold, this girl, Rory muses, this maybe-friend who sabotages her every move at The Franklin then shows up at her house with stress-red eyes needing a study buddy. Who dresses up like Romeo then forgets the kiss.

Rory slides the brush through Paris's hair, pays attention to the way the gold shines in the dim light of their room, how it brushes against her rosy skin. “But I don’t know, there’s just something about not quite knowing what the other person’s going to do at all times,” she admits. “It’s just really — exciting. ”

When Rory looks at Paris, though, Paris is smiling. Grinning, actually, with her brown eyes lit up in some emotion Rory thinks she’s seen before but somewhere else, not here, never between them. 

Rory drops her hands from Paris's hair and steps back. She feels like she’s walked too far off in an unfamiliar place and needs to retrace her steps. “Look, just have a good time,” she says, waving the hairbrush before whirling around to the desk. “You’ll figure it out.” 

There’s a black jacket draped over the chair near it, flowers embroidered across the fabric. Perfect. Rory grabs it.

“Yeah, well, I hope I figure it out fast,” Paris says, sounding a lot more glum now than she had seemed just seconds prior. “Before I throw up.” She’s smoothing the wrinkles in her dress out, hands gliding down her thighs. But her eyes are on the floor. 

Rory helps her into the jacket before Paris can spiral into her next mood. Whatever it is, Rory thinks she might have caught it. Maybe her mom was right about “empaths” and “sharing people’s energy.” It would stand to reason Rory would feel so off from Paris. Paris has a lot of energy all the time . She’s all over the place, and she's been all over the place Rory lives in for the past three months.

A knock sounds at the door. Paris's head snaps up like an alarmed gazelle on the Nature channel. “That’s him,” she says, resignation mixed with a touch of dread.

Rory clasps her hands together. “Turn around?” she requests.

Paris obliges, straightening her jacket as she faces Rory. Rory envisions Jamie opening the door and seeing her. She wonders how Paris will look to him, if he’ll think she’s pretty, if he’ll not know quite what to make of her standing like this — in smooth satin, with lavender eyelids. 

“Well?” Paris prods.

Rory works her jaw. “Perfect.”

Paris's brown eyes are imploring, almost puppyish. “Promise?” she asks, like Rory might not actually find Paris beautiful. Like it’s important Rory does. 

“Swear,” Rory says as solemnly as possible. 

“Thanks,” says Paris. There’s a moment where Paris looks so impossibly soft and open that Rory feels she’s stepped into another world. She almost steps forward, too, before the door apparently closes because Paris suddenly orders, “Now get in the closet.”

Rory’s heart freezes in her chest while her mind hurriedly rewinds the conversation, checking for errors, slips, any evidence that maybe she’s gone too far, said too much when she should’ve stayed quiet. “What?”

“If he comes in here and sees you, he won’t want to date me anymore.”

“Paris, that’s crazy. He’s seen me. He’s seen me for weeks.”

“Yes. In conference halls, crowded lecture halls, badly lit banquet rooms with crappy food smells — not at night when it’s dating time and he’s thinking about dating and you’re standing there, looking all dateable.” 

Rory’s face scrunches. She’s wearing an orange t-shirt with a giant 76 embroidered across the front. She doesn’t even know what 76 is for, she has no memory of ever even buying the shirt and is fairly certain it materialized in the wash in the same way socks disappear from the dryer. “I’m not looking dateable.”

“Please? I can’t risk it — at least if there’s nothing to compare me to, then I’ve got a fighting chance,” Paris says with a glossy, trembling lip. How long has Paris thought Rory looked dateable? Just today, with this shirt? They see each other every day, they wake up feet apart in their pajamas, and Rory doesn’t think she looks all that different now than she did this morning.

There’s another knock at the door, this one louder and longer, and any irritation Rory feels is snuffed out by the look Paris shoots her. Rory lets out a sigh and tries not to drag her feet too much, but she dutifully grabs her notebook and a flashlight on the off-chance Jamie takes his time getting out of here. “When you get home, you need to get a new therapist, because the one you have is really not working.” Then she walks towards the closet like a complete fool and lets Paris close the door on her. 

Rory expects Paris to immediately answer the door with Rory out of the way, but she actually hesitates a few seconds. Rory can see her shadow through the bottom crack of the door. Paris takes a deep breath, then says, “Thanks for helping me get ready.”

For a quick second Rory should probably be ashamed of, she wishes she had messed up Paris's makeup. She wishes Paris wasn’t on the other side right now, looking perfect as she closes Rory’s door and opens Jamie’s. 

“Any time,” Rory dully answers. 

“Hi, ” she hears Paris say. Jamie says, “Hello,” and it’s the dumbest reply Rory can think of. Hullo. He follows up with the generic compliment, “You look very nice.” So much for exciting.

Rory has to bite back a laugh when Paris replies, “This is a really good sweater,” with astounding awkwardness.

“So, shall we get going?”

“Oh, sure, sure.”

“Do you like Italian food?”

Rory rolls her eyes in the dark, but Paris merely says, “I love Italian food.”

“Good. I’ve made a reservation at a great place. Or, at least, that’s what the Zagat guide says.”

Rory wants to set this stupid Zagat on fire. Paris nearly exhales on a dreamy “you’re perfect” to him. Rory’s heart plummets. She lets herself sink to the floor, knees pressed against the closed door, even though she can hear them leaving already. 

So, she stays in the closet and opens her notebook, flashlight balanced so she can look at the pages. Dean’s name is still at the top, but all she can think to talk about is Paris. Maybe Dean would be okay with that, but maybe he wouldn’t. Talking about Paris isn’t the same as talking about Lane. And she doesn’t want to talk about Paris right now, anyway, not really. She’s annoyed with herself, because certainly a lot more has happened to her over the summer that Dean would think is cool, but all she can come up with is that time Rory convinced Paris to try street tacos with her, after some particularly crappy conference food, and Paris admitted that Rory had good instincts. 

Maybe she could talk to Dean about Zagat guides. Although Jess would have more to say. And he would even point out how stupid and unnecessary they were. She moves down the page, writes Jess across a line, and beneath that, writes Tacos - Paris. 

She stares at all the names on the page for a long time. Then, figuring screw it, writes beneath both columns:

Joke about Paris on the battlefield

Zagat guides - useless?

Blonde hair - y/no?

Orange t-shirts - dateable? 

She knocks her head back against the wall and switches the flashlight off. “Perfect,” she says aloud. In her head, Paris asks, Promise?

[movieswithkevin27]

Look Ahead: December 2017

All the Money in the World

One of the most hotly discussed films of the month has to be Ridley Scott’s All the Money in the World. Telling the story of the kidnapping and mutilation of John Paul Getty III in an attempt to extract money from his grandfather J. Paul Getty, All the Money in the World was originally set to feature Kevin Spacey as Getty. However, after the recent report regarding his sexual assault allegations came out, Scott went back to filming, replaced Spacey with Christopher Plummer, and re-edited the film in anticipation of its December release. An ambitious and commendable choice - especially considering the likely financial implications of releasing it with Spacey so soon after the allegations - it is hard to not admire the effort that has gone into All the Money in the World. This was one that, with Spacey, I was really looking forward to and now, it is easily one of my most anticipated of the month. Over the past decade, Scott has certainly been rather hit-and-miss, but his much of his true story work (namely Black Hawk Down and American Gangster) rank among his very best. If All the Money in the World can come close to the quality of those two films, it should be one of the better films in a crowded December.

Set for wide release on December 25, All the Money in the World stars Michelle Williams, Mark Wahlberg, and Charlie Plummer, alongside the newly cast Christopher Plummer.

The Disaster Artist

Thus far in his directorial career, James Franco has directed 12 films. That may come as a surprise to many and it should, but it should also not peak any curiosity. Of these are a few documentary films, a few William Faulkner/Cormac McCarthy/John Steinbeck adaptations, a few docufiction films, a comedy, and a co-directed horror film, all of which are horrible. Frequently, his work is called “pretentious”, “self-indulgent”, or just derided as being outright bad. Thus, it may seem all too appropriate that Franco’s first good film as a director is about the process behind making the worst film ever made by a man somehow more self-indulgent than Franco himself. It should not be a surprise that Franco knows how to capture the delusional process behind making such a bad film, considering his intimate knowledge of the process as both an actor and a director. In The Disaster Artist, Franco takes the insanity behind the cult film The Room and brings it to life alongside many of his regular collaborators. Of all of the Awards fare this year, The Disaster Artist seems primed to be the strongest box office success considering Franco’s general comedy appeal and the popularity of The Room among key demographics (read: young people 18-40). While unlikely to be the film to turn around Franco’s directorial career, The Disaster Artist nonetheless promises to be one of the funnier looks at show business in this decade.

Appearing alongside Franco (who stars as Tommy Wiseau) are many of his usual collaborators including Seth Rogen and Dave Franco, as well as Alison Brie, Zac Efron, Jacki Weaver, Josh Hutcherson, Hannibal Buress, Sharon Stone, Melanie Griffith, Jason Mitchell, Paul Scheer, Jason Mantzoukas, Zoey Deutch, Christopher Mintz-Plasse, Ari Graynor, and Bob Odenkirk. The film is set was released on a limited basis last week with its initial wide release set for December 8. This release was set to be wider as of earlier this week, but was scaled back, likely in favor of a slower rollout. Thus, look for the film to continue expanding throughout December.

Downsizing

Though having received rather divisive reviews - seems very love it or hate it thus far - Alexander Payne’s Downsizing is a film that is hard to not be excited about, solely because it a film by Payne. The seventh film he has directed, Downsizing represents the first mixed reception of his career of hits, though Downsizing was nonetheless nominated for Best Film by the National Board of Review. A science fiction film about a world in which people can opt to “downsize” or shrink to a tiny fraction of their typical size, Downsizing seems to be one of the weirder original films of the year. It seems to be very existential in theme while being rather eccentric with its comedy. In seeing the promotional material for the film, it is not hard to see why Downsizing is so divisive, considering how odd its premise and execution appears to be. However, for those who appreciate original films, Downsizing appears to be a must-watch.

Set for a wide release on December 22, Downsizing stars Matt Damon, Kristen Wiig, Jason Sudeikis, Christoph Waltz, and Hong Chau.

Hostiles

It should come as no surprise that director Scott Cooper’s last film, Hostiles, is a gritty western. Having made gritty films his entire career, namely Out of the Furnace and Black Mass, it is not a shock to see Cooper try his hand at a classically styled western that appears to be very much in the same style as films by John Ford or Howard Hawks in the 1940s. Telling the story of a US calvary soldier who is escorting a Cheyenne war chief and his family to Montana, Hostiles stars Christian Bale and Wes Studi in the two roles, respectively. In his career thus far, Cooper has received some criticism for being a better writer and actor’s director than being a talented director overall, but even if true, what is certain is that his films always contain some of the year’s finest performances, whether it be Jeff Bridges in Crazy Heart, Bale in Out of the Furnace, or Johnny Depp in Black Mass. Here, Hostiles seems to be yet another example of Cooper’s ability in writing great characters and eliciting strong performances from his cast, making Hostiles a film that, for fans of great acting or of westerns, is a must-watch. The genre has received the boon in recent times amid cinemagoers openly wondering where the western genre had gone with Hostiles being yet another sign of this return to the western genre for Hollywood.

Set for a limited release on December 22, Hostiles also stars Rosamund Pike, Q’orianka Kilcher, Ben Foster, Rory Cochrane, Adam Beach, Jesse Plemons, and Timothee Chalamet.

I, Tonya

Other than Lars and the Real Girl in 2007, director Craig Gillespie has largely had a middling career thus far. None of his films are outright awful, but most are just passable or mediocre. With his latest film, however, he seems to have struck the right chord with rave reviews coming in for I, Tonya. What, on the surface, could have been a typical biopic is instead changed into a black comedy look at the life of Tonya Harding, a figure skater who quickly became a pariah to the American public only to compound the issue by hiring a man to break the leg of fellow figure skater Nancy Kerrigan. Starring Margot Robbie as Harding, the film is seen as being a chance for Robbie to get her hands on Oscar gold alongside Allison Janney, who appears as Harding’s mother. Though biopics are often decried by audiences as being too safe or being “Oscar bait”, it appears as though I, Tonya is anything but, instead taking a far rougher approach to the story of Harding with a smart balance between comedy and tragedy.

Alongside Robbie and Janney, McKenna Grace, Sebastian Stan, Julianne Nicholson, Caroline Carver, and Bobby Cannavale, appear in the film. I, Tonya will have a limited release this weekend, December 8, before embarking upon a wider release over the coming weeks.

Molly’s Game

The directorial debut of famed screenwriter Aaron Sorkin - who wrote The American President, The West Wing, The Social Network, and Steve Jobs, among others - Molly’s Game is a film that tells the story of Molly Bloom. A crime film that details Bloom’s efforts in running a high-stakes underground poker game that attracts celebrities, athletes, businessmen, and members of the Russian mafia, while eventually earns her attention from the FBI, Molly’s Game has thus far received rave reviews. Starring Jessica Chastain in the leading role, the character of Bloom seems to be the perfect role for Chastain considering her inclination towards playing headstrong, determined, and tough-as-nails female characters. While Sorkin penning a script is always an assurance that the film will have a great script, Molly’s Game will serve as a test as to whether or not Sorkin can handle the task of bringing his script to life in the director’s chair.

The film is set for a limited release on Christmas before expanding on January 5. Beyond star Chastain, Molly’s Game features Idris Elba, Kevin Costner, Brian d’Arcy James, Chris O’Dowd, and Michael Cera.

Phantom Thread

With films such as Hard Eight, Boogie Nights, Punch-Drunk Love, and There Will Be Blood, director Paul Thomas Anderson established himself as one of the finest directors working in Hollywood today with strong appeal with audiences. However, after The Master and Inherent Vice, Anderson began to divide audiences and critics with those films slower pace and general incoherence. Though I personally loved both, it is fair to call both - The Master with audiences and Inherent Vice with both critics and audiences - quite divisive. Now, with Phantom Thread, Anderson seems likely to further alienate audiences while appealing to critics in a film set in New York’s fashion world. A slow-paced period drama that has received rave reviews from critics, Phantom Thread is also seen as being a film that could net Daniel Day-Lewis another shot at Oscar gold in what will, allegedly, be his final role before another retirement. Without having seen the film, it does appear as though Phantom Thread’s plot is somewhat of a mystery beyond it focusing on a fashion designer, portrayed by Day-Lewis, who lives a meticulous life and rises to great status in the fashion world only to have his life thrown into disarray when he finally falls in love with a woman.

The film is set for a limited release on Christmas before a wide expansion in 2018. Alongside Day-Lewis, Phantom Thread also stars Vicky Krieps, Lesley Manville, and Richard Graham.

The Post

A film about the efforts of the Washington Post in releasing the Pentagon Papers while fighting with President Nixon, starring Tom Hanks and Meryl Streep, and directed by Steven Spielberg, there was no way that The Post would not become one of the year’s most acclaimed films. Timely, obviously intended to compare Nixon and Trump’s issues with the press, and a celebration of the freedom of the press in America, The Post is one of those films that, when nominated for Best Picture, will be maligned by audiences in the midwest and celebrated by those on the coasts. As a film in the vein of All the President’s Men or Spotlight, however, The Post certainly has the chance to be a Best Picture winner while also being a greatly entertaining look inside the world of dirty politics and newspaper reporting.

The Post will be released on a limited basis on December 22 before expanding nationwide on January 12. The film, obviously, features an A-list cast alongside Hanks and Streep. This cast includes Bob Odenkirk, Sarah Paulson, Tracy Letts, Bradley Whitford, Bruce Greenwood, Matthew Rhys, Alison Brie, Jesse Plemons, and Michael Stuhlbarg.

The Shape of Water

Of all the films coming out in December, The Shape of Water is easily my most anticipated. Through films such as Cronos, The Devil’s Backbone, Pan’s Labyrinth, and Crimson Peak, director Guillermo del Toro has established himself as one of the finest directors working today. Seemingly be in line with his past work in regards to being a film that uses a war (this time the Cold War) as a thematic backdrop to the events going on in the film, The Shape of Water shows the efforts of a mute woman who attempts to rescue an amphibious creature discovered and abused by the military. Alongside the film Maudie, the film has earned star Sally Hawkins considerable praise while being championed as Del Toro’s best work since 2006’s Pan’s Labyrinth. Though the trailer may look a bit conventional, it is easy to say that Del Toro’s film are hardly ever conventional and are often misrepresented by trailers (such as positioning Crimson Peak as a horror film even though it was a gothic romance). Based on responses to the film thus far, it is easy to see The Shape of Water going down as one of the finest films released in 2017.

Having received a limited release last weekend, December 1, The Shape of Water expanded this week and will continue to expand before a nationwide release on December 22. Beyond Hawkins, the film stars Doug Jones, Michael Shannon, Octavia Spencer, Michael Stuhlbarg, and Richard Jenkins.

Wonder Wheel

The allegations against Woody Allen are well known - and even divide his family with some taking his side and others siding with ex Mia - but none of that has stopped Allen’s latest film Wonder Wheel from being released this month by Amazon. While his allegations are certainly more hotly discussed than others, it is nonetheless surprising that Amazon would opt to go ahead with the film’s release. However, as a fan of Allen’s work, I more than welcome the release of Wonder Wheel. Though receiving mixed reviews like much of his recent output, Wonder Wheel is a film that seems to be a very Allen film with similar characters and themes to his past work, thus fans of his will certainly find a lot to enjoy with Wonder Wheel. Set in Coney Island, the film follows a woman who is married to a carousel operator and in love with another man who is a lifeguard. When her husband’s daughter comes home - with the mafia after her - and also falls for the lifeguard, tensions flare. Labeled as a crime drama, Wonder Wheel is likely to also feature a healthy helping of Allen’s typical neurotic humor.

Released on a limited basis on December 1, Amazon is likely to play it safe with Wonder Wheel with a rather limited expansion in light of the rising tide of allegations in Hollywood given Allen’s history. Wonder Wheel stars Kate Winslet, Jim Belushi, Juno Temple, and Justin Timberlake.

Others of note:

As is often the case, December is quite the busy month as the above demonstrates, however, with so many releases coming out, it is impossible to cover each. Among other upcoming films that are worth keeping an eye is Michael Haneke’s Happy End. Known for films such as Funny Games, The Piano Teacher, and Amour, the Austrian director’s latest film has been more divisive than usual, but should nonetheless appeal to love of foreign films. Isabelle Huppert stars in the film. Additionally, for fans of old Hollywood, the upcoming film Film Stars Don’t Die in Liverpool stars Annette Bening as Gloria Grahame and the relationship she formed later on her in life with Peter Turner, who is played by Jamie Bell. Director Paul McGuigan’s career has certainly be more miss than hit thus far, but Film Stars Don’t Die in Liverpool’s has received quite the strong response thus far.

With recent films such as Lady Bird or the new release The Disaster Artist, it is hard to blame indie studio for seemingly forgetting about The Ballad of Lefty Brown, though it is certainly unfortunate. Starring Bill Pullman, Jim Caviezel, Peter Fonda, Kathy Baker, and Tommy Flanagan, the film is a western and will be released by A24 in theaters and given a simultaneous on-demand release through DirecTV. Finally, The Greatest Showman, a musical biopic about P.T. Barnum and starring Hugh Jackman, comes out this month. Featuring lyrics by the lyricists from La La Land, The Greatest Showman is being marketed in such a way that it is clear the studio hopes to draw in fans of last year’s big musical hit. With a cast that also includes Zac Efron, Michelle Williams, Rebecca Ferguson, and Zendaya, it is easy to see 20th Century Fox’s attempt to turn this into a box office smash for the holiday season, though current predictions seem to suggest it will take a backseat to the multitude of other holiday releases this month.

Of these films, The Greatest Showman is the only one that will receive a nationwide release initially, which is set for December 20. The Ballad of Left Brown, Happy End, and Film Stars Don’t Die in Liverpool will be given limited releases on December 15, 22, and 29, respectively.

[anandasumisu]

My Kera Sakti Phase is Back (Again, no surprise)

Oh my God I’m almost 24 and still giggling like a kid watching this show.

Okay what I’m about to write is about how I, after re-watching this cheesy af show tons of times, want to explore the character building of my favorite character by my perspective. If you read my older post you will immediately sighed his name. If you don’t, well, my fav is not the titular character (Kera Sakti is Indonesian for Magical Ape, even though it actually refers to Great Sage Equal to Heaven which is a MONKEY). Well, my fav is the most human of all, The Pig, Zhu Ba Jie (Indonesia: Tie Pat Kai (first translation when aired in channel Indosiar); Chu Pat Kai (translation when aired in TV7, now Trans7) which played awesomely by Wayne Lai.

I think I’m breaking this into two parts. First one would be about my own perspective of the series throughout the days I lived, and the second part would be deep thoughts I had these days about the aforementioned character. It will be long af, so grab your titties pillow and find your favourite reading position!

Well, when I watch this show as a kid, I never really care who my favourite character is. No preference at all. I just have a glimpse of memories where as a kid, I really want to join their pilgrimage, and I want to be a butterfly spirit (well, as a kid, I thought the characters who accompany Tan San Zang (Indonesia: Tong Sam Cong) must be a spirit. Ape spirit, pig spirit, and I didn’t know what the hell Sha Wu Jing (Indonesia: Adik Sha; Wu Cing) was so I assume he’s a fish or turtle or algae–well I didn’t know! I wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed!) I imagined to be the 4th disciples (Didn’t count the horse back then) of the holy monk. Aside that, I also remember that as a kid I found the episode where villagers intend to burn The Pig to death disturbing. In its countless re-runs, I tend to skip it by switching to another channel. If I remember correctly, I preferred the Kera Sakti II (the sequel, TVB's Journey to The West II,1998) to Kera Sakti I (JTTW, 1996) because I thought Kera Sakti I is darker and has more disturbing episodes than its successor, whilst the sequel is funnier and literally more colorful. During my childhood, I thought The Pig make up is dope as fuck! (to be fair I thought all make up is astounding). I also thought the dubbing is fun and suits him. The dubber for earlier episode sounds like ordinary man but starting at the spider demon episode the dubbing drastically changed into a high-pitched voice, anime-ish but not really. Sounds like Sponge Bob but not really. I just cannot describe it but as a kid I kinda enjoy it.

The shows didn’t get much re-runs for a while. Years later, it got re-dubbed and re-run in different channel (TV7). I watched it during my teenage years. During this time, I began to understand The Pig’s “Thousands of Love Sufferings” or “Love Cycles”. The episodes where the story centers at him caught my interest. I don’t know whether it’s because I matured movie/series-wise or just because I was in years of puberty where love consumes life out of all teens (well, the latter seems suitable since I don’t even understand the majesties of The Godfather Trilogy!) That time I made a very different image of The Pig compared to the image I made during my childhood.  I saw him with more dimension than just a mere comic relief. The Kera Sakti I delivers this image I made more adequate than the sequel. The sequels kind of negating ALL of the quality of The Pig as a hopeless romantic and instead driving him to be a shallow pervert, but still funny though. The dubber, who instead of sounding like a more annoying version of Sponge Bob, sounded like a guy who has blocked nose from mild flu (but when The Pig is in human disguise or is currently in his Tianpeng Yuanshuai (Indonesia: Panglima Tianfeng) form, the dubbing sound as if the same dubber has fully recovered from the flu) This dubbing sounds real good with the image I made. It’s more serious but can be funny when it is needed to be. I started disliking the annoying high-pitched dubbing from previous running. But this rendition didn’t last long. It got re-run for 3-4 times before completely vanished from the telly. Sighs.

Years passed and the series with earlier dub got re-run in a new established channel (was named B-Channel but last time I checked it changed to RTV, and don’t know if the channel is still running or not) It was heavily cut due to running time (goddamit). I watched it happily, though. As I mentioned the dub for Pig in earlier episodes is just a normal voice of average man. I adore it so much, since those early episodes are ones where The Pig is the center of the story. The rest of it where the dub turns high-pitched is just episodes with him as a clown of the series. It is annoying but do I really have a choice?

As a young adult (uuh… with a mind of 8 year old) I began molding my new image of The Pig. I have more reference than I used to, since I began reading some chapters of the original novel. I already knew that the “love cycles” thing is a mere addition in the series (yeah, it wasn’t a faithful one). The book Pig is somewhat different. He’s a brutal fighter (”…nine jets of blood gushing out of his victim” like this is a fucking Game of Thrones-CSI Miami mashups), sex addict, but incredibly loyal to Tan San Zang while a part in the series shows him refusing to acknowledge his own master. Other reference I got is the series itself, but in Cantonese dub! (with English hard sub, of course. Thank you internet). By God there are some (for me) vital scenes which erased during the run in the TV channel. Like how after Guan Yin (Indonesia: Dewi Kwan Im) ended the fate between Pig and his wife, there’s a scene where he insisted to meet his wife for the last time and says proper goodbye. I know I’ve seen it long ago but it never be seen in newer re runs. (Must’ve played only during the first run back in my childhood days). It’s the little things, really! I also found out that Wayne Lai’s voice is… okay? At some scenes he sounds exactly like average man Indonesian dubber. At certain scenes, it changed to blocked nose dubber. And somehow if I remember correctly there are scenes where he sounds like the annoying high-pitched dub! I DON’T GET IT! Character-wise, I can’t really mold it well and the only reason I found is: THE CHARACTER IS INCONSISTENT! *dammit*

Actually, almost all of the main characters has its inconsistencies throughout the entire series. I will discuss the inconsistencies of The Pig only, by breaking the series part by part. It will be available on my next post because this one is just too long already. Check here: http://smithanandari.tumblr.com/post/155677085653/the-inconsistencies-of-pig

See ya there!