#i’m actually already in my senior era

[aveil-moved]

i’ve become grandpacore and i’m only 25 😭

[pparacxosm]

hunger is ugly

(blue-eyed son 3 !! which, as any third and final installation of a franchise ((back to the future and spiderman withstanding !!!)), is obviously the best one; i’m only half kidding; homeless era!patrick zweig x jaded businesswoman!reader; see parts one and two; tw eggnog; tw coworkers; cw smut but nothing crazy; if you’re seeking closure don’t hold your breath; i’m sick of these two; they clearly don’t know what they want; and i refuse to take blame; tw fitted sheets; tw cocaine talk)

He once told you he couldn’t wear a suit. I couldn’t, he’d said, I’d look ridiculous in a suit. But he cleans up quite nicely, actually.

In fact, he looks good, and you’re not above admitting that. He looks better, actually. Healthier. And he looks handsome in his casual blazer and charcoal linen slacks. Oh God, are you gonna look frumpy beside him?

“I’ve always wanted to go to an office Christmas party,” he says.

You’re on the floor before him, straddling your full length mirror, and all your tumbledown, halfway gutted makeup products are strewn wildly about you.

Your bed, behind you, is a skeleton state, too. When he’d come over, he’d nearly laughed at the fact that you’ve apparently been so busy, your clean bedding is still sitting in a laundry hamper in the corner of the room, and you’ve been sleeping in the inserts on a bare mattress for who knows how long.

Patrick doesn’t pass judgment on the mess in your apartment. He still feels he owes you in some weird, kiss-the-hand-that-fed-you sort of way.

You’re not a slob. You always look put together when you leave the house. You’ve just had to focus on work. You can’t stumble at the finish line. Or… the glass ceiling. Or the penultimate rung on the corporate ladder. Whatever. If you can successfully execute this next product launch, who knows what other doors might open for you. Probably doors in buildings very similar to the one you’re already working in. But that’s nothing to sneeze at. Every morning, you see your reflection in those immaculate windows.

So anyway, it shouldn’t matter. Things just get away from you sometimes.

Patrick’s standing above you pensively reflecting how many undone buttons says Corporate Shindig Eyecandy (Please Give My Date That Promotion) as opposed to Reformed Tennis Heartthrob. His shins are sort of bracketing your hips.

“Well, it’s half an office Christmas party, and half—like—a congratulatory… thing. For Deirdre’s successful proposal,” you murmur, leaning forward, tugging your temple to flatten your eyelid and flick on your liner.

“Aw, what?” he frowns, “Deirdre? We fucking hate Deirdre.”

You laugh. You try not to delude yourself, not to let these moments exist in some flowery vacuum in the eye of your mind, not to ask him to fix your bedding for you. But it’s hard.

Whoever let Sam replace the DJ halfway through the party was either a genius anarchist or too drunk to care.

You know it’s probably the latter. You down the cognacheavy eggnog from your glass and make a disgruntled face. You don’t know what you expected. Shania Twain is belting from the speakers while Sam wiggles his headphones in a dumb, awkward dance.

He’s pretty funny, all things considered, but you’d still like nothing better than to whack him up the head with an ink cartridge.

One of the blousy interns from your department is haplessly flirting with Patrick, pretending he bumped into her and made her plash some eggnog on herself, but she’s trying to be selfaware about it.

“Oh gosh, isn’t this such a cliché: the boss’ plus one wiping a dairybased drink from the subordinate’s—… oh no, I know she’s not technically my boss, but she’s sort of my senior within the company, like on the general corporate ladder, argh, I know, I hate it!”

She could’ve said superior, you think, instead of senior.

You’re feeling too pissy to go and save him from that failed interaction. You turn your back to the crowd and look out of the glossy black windows. That chorus keeps stomping its pointed heels over your fragile nerves.

The best thing about being a woman is the prerogative to have a little fun!

Do you have a little fun? Are you a Good Time? You have to laugh. It’s just a stupid song. But you need the validation.

That’s why Patrick picks the wrong moment to come and talk to you.

“Hey, this chick is chasing me with a napkin around the room.”

You snort. “Not my problem.”

Patrick leans against the buffet, delivering a wry salute when Sam points at him from the DJ booth and winks. “That guy’s something,” Patrick chuckles, “He asked me to sign his dick.”

“Did you?”

Patrick hums like he’s ambivalent and places a large hand on the small of your back. “Would that be good for you, if I did?”

“I’m fun, right?”

You swirl the remains of eggnog in your glass. You ask the question like he’s been holding out some big secret from you.

Patrick blinks. He scoffs in disbelief, but also smirks pointedly at your glass. “You’re asking me?”

You stare at him through the briar lace of your eyelashes. Everyone who’s met him today has had their own lashes drenched in laughter. You hadn’t realised it first. You’d figured those were mutually exclusive things, downandout charm and the breathing room of comfortable success. But no. He’s charming, anyway. It’s just that he’s not haggling for scraps of generosity anymore so much as he’s lapping at the fleeting dregs of likability. And you hate that you notice that, and you hate that you notice him, that you know him, in a sense. Because what are you supposed to do about it?

“Everybody loves you. Just… be objective.”

Patrick still laughs. He rubs his stubble. He should’ve shaved this morning. He thought he was doing something for you, something nice, by coming with you to this thing and wooing everybody’s pants a little tighter, but maybe he’d missed the mark. “You know I can’t be objective.”

“Why not?” You sound petulant, leaning angrily against the buffet. You’re old enough to know what he’s saying, of course. He’s being nice. He’s telling you he thinks you’re fun, that the rest shouldn’t matter, but then he doesn’t need anything. Even when he had nothing. So he wouldn’t get it. He wouldn’t notice.

Patrick tilts his head and narrows his eyes in that way he does when he’s vivisecting you, then clears his throat. “You’re drunk.” He laughs again, a little gratuitous. Then, after a while, “I have fun with you. You’re engaging.”

“Engaging?” you echo, frowning. “Seriously? What am I, an essay?”

“No, I just— Jesus, what do you want me to say?”

You clench your jaw. Okay, you are drunk and you’re at this office party from hell and a hard rain’s a-gonna fall, so goddamn it, he will call you fun.

So you get right into his face. You’re good at that, even if you barely reach his shoulder. “Tell me I’m fun, because I am, and you think I am.”

You try to swat his hand away, but his palm stays put, a hot magnet just above your tailbone, and he doesn’t even look like he’s doing it on purpose. It’s just that he feels an emptiness in his stomach, depressing but also thrilling. Like taking a hit. Like you’re a little bag of white powder. Beyond the dark windows it starts to snow. He used to do a bit of coke, when everything around him dropped dead and started to rot, and he couldn’t stomach the smell. He doesn’t seem like the poster kid for moderation, but the coke was good, and he didn’t let it be any more than that. In fact, at times, the coke was great. The coke was fun. But he couldn’t live with the coke. You understand? He couldn’t settle down in New England and raise a cat with the coke.

“I don’t think I can win with you,” he murmurs, and, for his part, he at least sounds like he needs to change that.

It’s supposed to be a comfort fuck—and you call it fuck in your head dismissively—but it’s too raw and unknown. You’ve spent so much time in this questionable relationship with existence in his life. In and out. You thought you’d learned him, or at least learned the both of you, but his hands on you, his mouth on you—it’s frightening, finite, foreign. Somehow divorced from this man who, for all his egofueled casual mania, doles out intimacy like free samples.

This is what it feels like to watch him unravel, but it’s not just beggar’s desperation. No, he’s making room for someone else beside him in a way he hasn’t in a long time.

He keeps touching every part of you, frantically, trying to feel all of you, sinking his head between your thighs with a groan of relief, immersing himself in another body. But not just any body, because he keeps mouthing your name. As if to remind you that he is here, and you let him in. Because it matters that it’s you, that someone who knows him is letting him in. He’s humming to himself as you come against his fingers and mouth.

... hunger is ugly... souls are forgotten... I’ll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it...

You like his full weight on you, sinking you into your undressed mattress, trapping you, suffocating you under his bottomless gloom. He has one hand on your thigh. He lifts it at an uncomfortable angle, sinking his cock deeper into you, making it ache. How does he know you like that, anyway? He doesn’t. He noticed.

You want to resent what he’s doing here, which is trying to ‘win with you’. Because he’s been on a winning streak, and you’re not about to spoil that.

And these demeaning, mechanical thoughts probably aren’t reflective of his inner monologue at the moment, but it’s easier to believe he doesn’t respect you than to contend with this whole thing.

You want to tell him, you don’t know what I like, but he starts talking about this tournament. There’s a match in Boston, for real this time. You’re having trouble paying attention.

You fall asleep with him still inside you, head on your chest, and you, crushed comfortably by his weight.  

You wake up before him. He must have rolled off you in the middle of the night. He’s sleeping next to you, one hand stretched towards you, head on the pillow at a strange angle.

You turn away quickly.

You sit on the edge of the bed, breathing in and out, staring at the heap of his cocktail wear on the floor. You feel sore and stupefied. You feel cramps in your muscles. You feel weak in the best and worst way possible. You keep breathing in and out, hoping you’re keeping quiet.

But he wakes up anyway.

You can feel his gentle eyes on the slightly hunched line of your back.

“Hey.”

“Morning,” you mumble, throat dry. Why does it have to be morning? Why does it always have to be morning?

“Come back here,” he says, as if it weren’t morning.

You shake your head softly.

His silence is edifying. It goes on for too long.

“You’re not gonna stay, are you?” you ask, serious and formal, gripping the edge of the mattress. You clench your jaw, body taut.

You can hear him swallow, throat working to get the syllables out.

“I’m not, like… leaving you.”

You close your eyes.

“No, I mean—yeah,” you chuckle miserably. “You’re probably doing the right thing. The best thing for you.”

You feel the tears slide out one by one, and your shoulders shake slightly.

“Please don’t cry.” He’s using that soft and primordially tentative voice he uses with your cat. “I’m not worth it.”

You look over your shoulder at him. “Then why is it so fucking hard to watch you go?”

It’s only recently you’ve started getting angry with him. You used to get grudgingly amused, perhaps vaguely reproachful, but now his stupid face just makes you livid.

His eyes tremble pensively. “I don’t know. But that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

You turn your head away, rolling and wiping your eyes at the same time. “I just don’t see how it could work.”

And there’s a door he could open for you. There’s something he could say at this juncture to reassure you, momentarily, that it could. But he can’t bring himself to lie, because he cares about you too much to take a bump of that powder.

He hangs his head and looks at the beautiful line of your back, memorising it.

Then he gets up.

“I’m gonna make coffee, then we can get that fucking fitted sheet on, alright?”

You nod absently. You don’t turn to look at him as he puts on his clothes.

He comes up to you before he leaves. He runs his finger under your chin and lifts it up. There’s a kitten scratch on his cuticle.

You could come watch the match.

But he doesn’t say that. You haven’t seen him play since New Rochelle. “I’ll fill the demon’s bowl. I think she’s starting to like me.”

You laugh, wiping more tears.

Patrick takes that hand, your hand, wet with tears, and brings it to his mouth. He kisses and licks the salt away. He keeps it there for a moment longer than he should. You gently pull away.

You only exhale when he’s gone.

Toby slinks out from behind your mirror, swishing her tail back and forth in contempt.

You narrow your eyes. “Oh, shut up,” you whisper.

[chestharrington]

I Think We're Alone Now || Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Set in the S3 Starcourt era... Steve develops a fixation on the shopgirl-next-door.

Couple: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Content Warnings: explicit smut || sexual fantasy (includes oral, f and m receiving, p in v sex) and solo masturbation, kind of a panty/lingerie fetish if u squint or even just stare

Word Count: 2.9k

Whoever was in charge of Starcourt Mall planning was a sadist. That was the only explanation as to why a lingerie store was situated directly next door to Scoops Ahoy. Really, what business did it have in a food court of all places?

It also didn’t help that Steve Harrington was in the sex drought of all sex droughts— caused not just because of his stupid uniform, but probably also owed a lot to the fact that he had no college prospects, had lost his proverbial crown to Billy Hargrove, and had been cheated on with Jonathan Byers. Nothing kills a reputation quite like that. 

So there he was— showing up to work every day, walking past scantily clad mannequins and shopgirls wearing tight miniskirts, none of whom gave him the time of day when he was dressed like that. Well, none of them except you. 

“Good morning, Steve!” You greeted, wearing a tight white button-up shirt with a black pencil skirt. Like a sexy librarian had just walked off the page of a centerfold and decided to work retail. You were lifting the gate from the front of the store and placing a sale sign right between your two shops as he passed.

“You’re opening again?” He asked, pausing in front of his stupid, sticky helljob. You blew a loose piece of hair from your bangs as you stood and nodded. 

“And closing. It’s our summer savings sale,” you explained. “You should probably expect a lot of rollover customers. Stop by if you’re in the market for anything. Maybe a nice gift for a girlfriend?” Before he could respond, you gave him a pretty smile as you disappeared into your dimly-lit storefront to finish opening. 

You’d gone to high school together, though he doubted you remembered him. You were, after all, a senior while he was just an annoying sophomore on JV Basketball. You were on homecoming court, voted most friendly for senior superlatives, and were probably the hottest girl in your class. He didn’t have a chance then, and he definitely didn’t now.

But you always said hello when he passed by, and you would stop by Scoops sometimes after work and buy a cone of the flavor of the month. He wanted to talk to you more— to actually get to know you beyond a schoolboy crush, but you were so far out of his league that he couldn’t bring himself to try. 

When he walked into Scoops, his boss, Allan, had already begun the process of opening. His task of vigorously polishing the glass case of ice cream felt pointless when it was about thirty minutes from being smudged with a toddler’s fingerprints. 

“Steven, you’re late,” He said firmly. 

Steve glanced towards the clock. “I’m five minutes early.”

Allan slung the rag he was cleaning with over his shoulder and sighed. “In my book, thirty minutes early is on time, and on time is late.”

Steve made a face as he refrained from telling Allan that payroll would disagree. Instead, he put on the stupid sailor hat and pinned on his nametag. And, just because he could, he clocked in early.

His morning was hectic. Like you’d said, there were countless rollover customers who wandered in after the sale next door, each clutching a bag of lingerie and giggling with their friends. His wrist was aching from scooping so much ice cream by the time lunchtime rolled around. He would’ve gone back for his fifteen, but there you were, your hair pulled back in a banana clip, fanning yourself as you stepped into the long line for ice cream. 

When you finally reached the counter, you smiled like the two of you shared a secret. “Busy day?” You asked as you fished cash out of your purse. 

“It’s been crazy. You?”

You peered up at him and laughed wryly. “God, you wouldn’t believe the number of women in this town who jump at the chance for discounted racy lingerie. I’m drowning in satin and lace today.”

He managed to smile without looking like a complete idiot as he scooped your ice cream, handing it across the counter as you looked at him with amusement. 

“You memorized my order? That’s so sweet, Steve.”  You handed him a few bills and coins across the counter. “Keep the change, alright? Hopefully I'll see you later.”

His cheeks burned hot. “Yeah, for sure.” He stared dumbly as you licked your ice cream and walked out into the food court. 

He needed to find an excuse to buy lingerie from you... if only to have a reason to see you again that day. 

—��—

It was late afternoon before he got his first break and darted into the lingerie store to the shock and horror of the women inside. He hip-checked a table displaying hosiery before he stopped in front of you, smiling expectantly. 

You put down the stockings you were folding and looked at him with amusement. “Steve! What can I help you with?”

“Oh, uh… just…” He floundered as he searched for a reason, then remembered your suggestion that morning— buying for a girlfriend. “My girlfriend.”

“Oh? What’s her name? Maybe I know her.”

Steve hesitated for a moment, before saying the first girl’s name to pop into his head. “Her name is Nancy.”

As soon as your brows furrowed, he knew he fucked up. “Oh, I heard you two broke up, or something.” 

He hesitated, mouth open as he tried to find words to dig himself out of the hole. “Oh… no, not that Nancy. It’s a different Nancy. You probably don’t know her.”

You raised your brows, but said nothing to suggest you doubted him. “I can help you find something. What were you thinking?”

He reached back and scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. He hadn’t thought this far. “Uh, what would you suggest?”

You considered it for a moment, looking at him carefully. “Well, that depends. Are you buying something she’d like to wear, or something you’d like to see her in?”

Steve blinked dumbly. “Both?”

You laughed lightly and walked towards a table displaying an array of underwear. “So, if you’re going for practical and sexy, I’d recommend panties.” You held up a lacy white pair and his mouth went dry. “A pair like these is pleasing to the eye, but totally invisible underneath clothes.” You stepped back and gave a tiny spin. “I’ve got them on now, and you’d think I wasn’t wearing any. Absolutely no lines at all.” 

Steve swallowed hard. Don’t picture it don’t picture it don’t picture it don’t— “Yeah, I’ll take those.” 

You chuckled and grinned. “Well, you’re an easy sell. Do you want the matching bra and garter belt to go with that?” You gestured to the mannequin atop the table. “The set is absolutely stunning when worn all together.”

He hesitated, knowing he had no use for any of this stuff. Still, the vision in his mind of you wearing the set was enough to make blood rush south and all rational thoughts leave his brain.

“I really can’t afford the full set,” he finally said after a synapse successfully fired in his brain. “I’ll just, uh, grab her size then.” You nodded and smiled. He had to pretend like he wasn’t thinking of you wearing this same pair, imagining what size would be closest to yours. He grabbed blindly at the folded pairs and retrieved the first ones his hands touched. 

“I’ll ring you up! I’ll even throw in our gift wrapping just because I like you so much.” You smiled and guided him towards the register, letting him cut the line of women waiting to pay. After he paid, you handed over a white box with a silky red bow and gave him a conspiratorial smile. “I hope you both enjoy.” 

————

The box sat on his bedside table— the proverbial elephant in the room. 

God, he thought. You probably thought he was a weird pervert who wanted to wear them or something. Well, he probably would if someone hot enough asked him to, but it wasn’t like he was seeking it out. 

His thoughts wandered as they usually did when it was late and he was home alone with nothing (or no one) to do. That night, though, his thoughts were focused solely on you. 

He thought about the professional pencil skirt you wore, of lace and stockings beneath. He yearned to peel them off of you with his teeth and bury his head between your thighs, tasting all you had to offer him. He wanted your manicured nails tugging on his hair, scratching his scalp as you cried out in pleasure above him.

He groaned, almost involuntarily reaching down to palm himself over his sweats. Talk about pathetic— even the tiniest mental image made him swell with desire. Fucking dry spell. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, bucking into his own grip. Just the lightest pressure made him groan and toss his head back, the expanse of his neck bared. He imagined your pretty mouth pressed against his throat, sucking bruises into his pale skin and felt his cock twitch beneath the confines of his pants.

He was quick to strip off the rest of his clothes, not wanting anything in the way. The dry glide of his hand along his hardening length made him hiss. With clumsy impatience, he reached for the bottle of lube inside of his bedside table, almost empty from solo use, sitting beside a mostly-full box of condoms.

Immediately, the slick sounds of him working his length filled the room— desperate and messy with need. Maybe he could’ve been patient— taken it slower, but he was overcome with lust and a desire for release.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Feels so good— don’t stop, keep goin’ just like that.”

As the words mindlessly slipped past his lips, he knew he was well and truly gone. It was an entirely new level of desperate and horny to dirty talk to the girl you were hot for when she wasn’t even there. 

His free hand was splayed across his chest, just resting against the thatch of chest hair where his heart was pounding just beneath his ribs. As his desperation grew, his hand wandered lower, fondling his balls as his other hand squeezed the base of his shaft. A desperate, feral noise escaped his mouth that he’d never even heard himself make before.

He closed his eyes and he could imagine you pulling him into a dressing room, a wanton look in your gaze as you pulled the thin curtain shut, the only semblance of privacy you could get. You’d smile as you stripped off your clothes, only clad in the skimpy lingerie you’d paid for with your employee discount. 

“You’re gonna have to be quiet for me, okay?” You’d say as you pulled down his stupid Scoops uniform shorts. “Don’t want to get caught, right?”

He could feel sweat beading at the base of his neck and around his forehead, on his chest, tummy, and thighs. His entire body was burning up as he touched himself, like he was on fire from the inside out. 

He’d waste no time kneeling before you— tugging your stockings and panties down and hiking up your skirt so he could slot himself between your legs and taste you. There were few things Steve loved more than eating pussy. There was something about the taste, smell, the sounds that he could elicit with a few deft movements of his tongue. You’d pull his hair and tilt your head back as moans escaped your lips. 

He worked his length quickly as he imagined eating you out. His head was thrown back, tongue lolling out of his mouth as short pants escaped him. The slick sounds of lube and the slap of his hand at the base of his cock were pornographically loud. He’d have been embarrassed had he not had the house to himself.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned. “Wanna make you cum so bad. Wanna taste you.”  He could only imagine the pretty sounds you’d make as you came, the way you’d tremble as your knees threatened to give out. He’d wait until you couldn’t take anymore before finally relenting, meeting you with a kiss.

Your hands would be soft. He knew this not just by looking at them, but also from the few times you’d put a hand on his arm when you passed by him in the service hallways. He liked thinking about your hands on him, squeezing him just the way he liked. 

“You’re so big, Steve,” you’d say from your knees, peering up at him with big doll eyes. Your hand would glide along his cock— slow, teasing. Your tongue would dart out, kitten-licking his tip before you took him into his mouth entirely.

“Mmm, fuck— feels so good,” Steve cried out, his chest heaving as he continued to work his hand along his cock. “Doin’ so good, taking it all for me. Just like that.”

Steve felt himself nearing his finish and slowed down, practically to a snail's pace to keep from busting early. What was the point of having a sexual fantasy if you finished before getting to the best part? 

He returned his attention to the image of you in his mind. How the drool at the corners of your mouth would drip messily, how your eyes would be wet and glossy as his cock bullied its way into your throat. Your free hand would move to cup his balls, heavy and full for you as you kneaded them in your palm. 

He’d bring you up to him and give you a kiss for good measure— slow and messy like you had all the time in the world. But he’d get impatient, like he was then to just give in and make himself cum. 

He’d press your back against the wall and lift your legs around his waist. You’d still be wet from his mouth, dripping with desire. You’d take him with no resistance at all, just a tight warmth like he belonged there. 

He needed more. Just jerking off wasn’t cutting it. He reached out clumsily with his free hand and grabbed the gift-wrapped box from the bedside table and tore at the silky red ribbon so he could knock the top of the box off. He grabbed the white lace panties from within and groaned at the sight.

“Ah!” He got a full-body shiver the moment he wrapped the lace panties around his cock, the fabric soft against his flushed length. They wrap around the head as he sets a fast pace, imagining that they’re yours— the same pair you’d been wearing that day. 

“Fuck,” he cried out, bucking up into his fist and the lace. “Holy shit, ‘m cumming. Fuck— fuck—“ He came with a shout, his spend soaking through the white lace, sticky on his hands and dripping down his shaft, pooling at the base. 

His breath came in soft pants as he came down, his cock still twitching weakly, rivulets of cum dripping from the slit. “Goddamn,” was all he could manage as he laid limp against his pillows. 

He’d made a mess, not just of himself, but of the lace panties he’d spent a day’s paycheck on. He grimaced at the sight of them, completely soiled from his exploits. With more effort than he even felt capable of, he sat up and tossed them into the hamper in the corner of his room. 

Afterward, he looked down at himself— the mess of cum and lube left behind. He stood and stretched on slightly weak legs and went to wash off. He’d deal with the shame of it all tomorrow.

————

You were smiling at customers when he came in for his shift the next day, feeling sensitive from the second round he’d put himself through in the shower the previous night… and the quick session he’d had in the morning. 

Part of him felt like a perv for thinking about you like that, but then you looked up, saw him, and smiled… and he felt the wariness wash away like it was nothing. 

At lunch, he walked into the store, which was far less crowded than it had been the day prior. You saw him and approached with a casual confidence that made him want to crumble to his knees. 

“Hi, Steve! Did Nancy like the gift you got her?”

His brow furrowed. “Nancy? We broke up last year.”

You laughed lightly and shook your head. “No, I meant your new girlfriend. The other Nancy.”

He swore internally as he nodded. “Right! Yes. She loved them, actually. She wants another pair.”

“Great, just meet me at the register when you’re done.” You smiled and departed. Steve couldn’t help but stare at your ass in that tight skirt as you walked away. 

He grabbed two more pairs— black and red— and approached the counter where you stood. You rang him up without further comment and smiled as you passed the bag and receipt over. 

“Come back soon, Steve,” you said with a grin before departing into the back of the store. 

That night as Steve was unpacking the bag, he found a small note written on blank receipt paper. 

“Steve, if you wanted to talk to me, you didn’t have to buy lingerie for a fake girlfriend to do it. XO” Beneath it, in clear print was your phone number circled twice. 

Steve grinned, running his thumb over the note. Maybe his dry spell was going to end sooner than he thought.

[randommusingsstuff]

Devi, Ben, and the Power of Happy Endings

Never Have I Ever is about to go down in the history books as one of the most thematically rich coming of age stories produced in the streaming era.

While the thought of parting from my beloved, Devi Vishwakumar, makes me want to curl into a fetal position, I’ve been struck with the sudden inspiration to document my predictions. Every wild, outrageous opinion.

Maybe this post will be nothing more than fodder for your morning coffee Tumblr scroll, but my hope is that it will convey a sense of optimism. Not only do I think that Never Have I Ever will have an explicitly romantic ending for Ben and Devi, I think that it fundamentally has to. But we still have a long journey ahead.

1. Devi: T-minus 5 Seconds to Heartbreak

This is Devi Vishwakumar, walking into school for her first day of senior year, smiling like the lovestruck nerd that she is, having finally figured out that she wants to be with Ben. 

I mean, just look at her gloat! This is the gloat of someone who is ready to join forces with her soulmate so they can terrorize the school with their combined obnoxiousness! 

Only to walk in and see this:

Oh Ben... To quote the great Logan Echolls, “no one writes songs about the ones that come easy”.

2. To boink, or not to boink?

I’m not convinced that Ben and Devi had sex.

Now, hold on-

Let me first caveat and say that Never Have I Ever always manages to surprise me. While I can pick out the broad narrative strokes and character arcs they are aiming for, they manage to awe and delight me with the details.

I think that following through on the “one free boink” scene is the more interesting route, but it also makes the writers’ jobs much, much harder.

I cannot fathom Ben and Devi having sex and then Ben immediately rebounding to Margot. That level of womanizing would make Paxton Hall-Yoshida tremble in his tiny swim shorts. In order to keep the audience on Ben’s side, the writers would have to spend a considerable amount of time unpacking his trauma and explaining his perspective. It’s not impossible, but I’m dubious.

The show never rewards Devi for making a decision based on her own insecurities. She wants to have sex with Ben, but her catalyst for getting there is the sext Fabiola accidently sends to her instead of Addison (i.e Devi is insecure about being the only virgin in her friend group left).

Maitreyi confirmed that season 4 would pick up immediately where season 3 left off. Do I think we’re getting play-by-play? An under-the-cover post boink scene? Them starting to make-out then something happening? I’m betting on the latter.

3. The Ben Problem

Picture this:

Mid make-out, Devi casually lets slip that she is staying at Sherman Oaks for senior year. Suddenly, sex with the love of his life is an actual relationship that he has to contend with. All the trauma and pain from season 2 comes flooding back. And it’s important to remember that Ben was deeply traumatized from the events of season 2.

His actual brain catches up with his er… primal instincts, and they agree to see where things go. It's just vague enough that Devi thinks they’re going to be together, but Ben is scared. Scared of being more in love with her than he already is and scared of being hurt again. He goes with the safer option of neglecting his feelings, because his arc of vulnerability has yet to be fully actualized.

This manages to set up the same conflict and angst between Ben and Devi and give Ben a starting point to make amends without having him abandon Devi right after she has sex for the first time.

It’s a much more palatable fallout for the “one free boink scene”, but I digress.

4. Never Have I Ever... Been a Wallflower

We catch up with Paxton in episode 3, narrated by Gigi Hadid, and he’s kind of shy?

He has always used his popularity as a crutch and now has to grapple with his new identity. Much like Devi and Ben, Paxton’s insecurities are an ongoing battle, as he realizes that his choice to go to college was partially defined by his desire to escape the “dumb jock” label. Tucked away in his dorm room, watching life pass him by, he realizes that he doesn’t need to prove anything to anyone else. He can pursue his athletic aspirations and still defy the labels that people have placed on him. By the end of the episode, Paxton makes the decision to come back to Sherman Oaks as a swim coach assistant.

I’ll admit, I think it’s a strange choice to reignite Devi and Paxton’s romance by making him a faculty member at the school. The writers might as well hold up a big red sign that says, “The only reason we can think of for Devi and Paxton to interact is if they are stuck in high school together”. 

But I want to make one thing clear: I do not think this undoes his arc from season 3. To realize that just because you can do something doesn’t mean you have to is a very natural extension of gaining personal liberty.

And I, for one, am proud of him.

Also, I’m getting season 2 vibes from this scene.

Devi and Paxton fans can probably expect callbacks, sweet moments, a kiss, and an emphasis on how important they have been to each other's personal growth.

5. Where are Ben and Devi?

Hidden behind a Michael Cimino-sized red herring. They are going to give us as little as they possibly can about Ben and Devi during promo season. The same way they have in *checks notes* every single season prior.

I’ve written about this before, but it is integral to their individual arcs that they are honest about their love for each other. It is the bedrock of the story. But between Michael Cimino’s washboard abs and closing out Paxton and Devi’s arc in a way that feels satisfying and emotionally resonant, I don’t think we’ll be seeing Ben and Devi’s domestic bliss phase.

Put another way: The love triangle and push-and-pull romance is not a side story, it’s a source of narrative conflict that’s integral to the plot. Would you resolve the final battle in a fantasy series three episodes before the finale? Resolving the Ben and Devi plot early would be like sucking all of the tension out of the story. It would not give us the euphoric high of Ben and Devi blurting out that they love each other at the eleventh hour after trying to suppress their feelings. The show has always saved these big moments for finales, and this season will be no different.

But for anyone worried that Ben and Devi will be fighting the entire season, I think we’re in for our most Benvi-centric season yet, filled with great moments and their trademark banter.

They go to New York to visit colleges. Neither of them admits it, but they are relieved to know that they will remain constants in each others’ lives. 

They study for finals together while bantering, skirting around the topic of prom, and just generally being the only two idiots who don’t know they are in love. *Buries self under 10 pounds of cement*

This time, Ben asks her to dance. The angst, unspoken feelings and tension are palpable.

They fight over valedictorian and it’s practically foreplay. Devi wins, and Ben is proud of her, underscoring his growth and ability to put aside his competitive nature to be supportive.

And that is just a fraction of what’s in store for our obnoxious, loveable nerds.

6. 🎶 It's the circle of life 🎶

“Hey, gods. It's Devi Vishwakumar, your favorite Hindu girl in the San Fernando Valley. What's a-poppin'? It's the first day of school, and I thought we should have a check in. I think we can all agree that last year sucked for a number of reasons. So I thought of a few ways you guys can make it up to me.”

“One: I'd like to be invited to a party with alcohol and hard drugs. I'm not gonna do them. I'd just like the opportunity to say: ‘No cocaine for me, thanks. I'm good.’”

John Mcenroe Voice: Devi, you seem a little drunk.

“Two: I'd love for my arm hair to thin out. I know it's an Indian thing, but my forearms look like the frigging floor of a barber shop.”

The mehndi on her hands symbolizes her love for her family and heritage. Juxtaposed with her western clothes, it signifies her acceptance of her intersectionality.

“And lastly, most importantly, I'd really, really like a boyfriend, but not some nerd from one of AP classes.”

The picture that I want to get my hands on is currently stashed away in Netflix’s top-secret headquarters, but I’ll settle for this one of Ben’s adorable, dopey smile.

7. The Finale: Why Devi and Ben Must Have an Unambiguously Happy Ending

For the longest time, I believed that Never Have I Ever would go the way of its spiritual successor Crazy-Ex Girlfriend and give Devi the “I choose myself” ending” with hints of her ending up with Ben in the future.

It was only when watching the season 3 finale that I realized how wrong I was. In fact, I was so fundamentally wrong that I overlooked the obvious: Never Have I Ever has never done anything halfway. The writers of Never Have I Ever know something about the audience that we often fail to recognize ourselves, which is that we desperately want a happy ending.

Season one could have ended with Devi’s heartfelt goodbye to her father and reconciliation with her mother. What do we get instead? A sweeping, romantic shot of Malibu while Devi and Ben share their first kiss.

In the season 2 finale, Devi proclaims that she will not settle for “some weird secret thing behind closed doors” and that she wants to be “someone's public girlfriend.” And what does she get? Exactly what she wants.

But it’s only in season 3 when this pattern becomes apparent. The season could have easily ended with her deciding to stay at Sherman Oaks. We had already said our farewell to Paxton, and gotten this chemistry-choked, almost-love-confession between our favourite dorks:

And we think that maybe, just maybe, the season will end with Devi single and ready for her senior year. But the show says “subtlety be damned”. It demands a triumphant ending, with Devi showing up at Ben’s door, leading to what will certainly be one of the most intimate moments in the entire show.

Tonally, the story makes bold choices, and the reaction from fans is always electric. In a world of being told “no” and being conditioned to temper our expectations, Never Have I Ever is like a warm hug reminding us that even the most broken people can heal and find love.

And this brings us back to “the Ben problem”, the idea is that he must overcome his fear and confess his love to Devi. And Devi, in turn, must love herself before being able to embrace her narrative mirror.

On a show that prides itself on big endings, escapism, and romance it seems unfathomable, and almost cruel, for Devi and Ben to be in love and not be together.

The writers do not want people finishing the show, shrugging, and saying “that was a realistic ending.” They want us to watch the finale with grins too big for our faces, our hearts bursting with excitement. They want us to know that all of Ben and Devi’s suffering over the past four seasons meant something, that when Devi finally makes the right decisions, she “will find someone who loves her exactly as she is.”

Love, unvarnished and without fear. That is the true narrative promise of Never Have I Ever.

[shinutic]

OMG U HAVE F1 OCS TOO U SHOILD TELL US ABOUT TJEM DO RHEY HAVE LORE

YES my OC’s are actually what got me into F1 strangely enough. I’ll try to type some lore out but this is just off of the top of my head and it won’t be fully comprehensive

The storyline begins in 1999: Czech-American protagonist Quincey Kovačec is in his sophomore year of college. He grew up in Czechoslovakia in the 80s but immigrated to the US when he was around 8. He’s now moved across the country from his parents and is terribly miserable with his life and individualist mindset; the only thing stopping him from dropping out is the obligation of supporting his parents. His mechie roommate Felix introduces him to auto-racing, and they build their first kart together (Felix leaves his notes for Quincey while he’s away at shop, as Quincey has no formal education). Eventually, Quincey moves up in ranks and begins racing in other non-kart events (I haven’t decided which ones yet) and is able to move out and quit his job. In late 2002, rumors of a senior driver at Bernardi Racing (all of the teams in my story are fictional by the way; Bernardi’s an F1 team) retiring begin to circulate. As Bernardi is a glory-less team with minimal resources, suspected of going bankrupt soon, Quincey and his manager know no one in Europe would want to drive for them. They jump at the opportunity and he breaks into F1 (I’m considering having him debut as a pay driver). Before the 2003 season even starts he’s made enemies with Marcus Di Angelo, the first driver for Bernardi. I have a decent background of Marcus worked out already and if you’d like you can read a snippet here. Okay I haven’t really planned Act III yet (Quincey F1 era) but basically it will be super intense sports drama between Marcus and Quincey (like Prost and Senna but backmarker teams 😭) they do score a few points in 2003 though and get better with time. And by now Felix is just on his own side-quest doing mechanical engineering within American motorsports until Quincey recommends him into Bernardi. Also unsure of what will happen then but I’m thinking of having Felix design for the team / be Quincey’s race engineer

I didn’t really talk about Marcus and Felix much but I swear they have their own stories too also if you have F1 OC’s you should definitely dump all of their lore onto me ^__^ I’m still considerably new to F1 so if you have any suggestions / corrections please let me know. Okay I don’t know if anyone is going to read all this but thank you for asking I’m glad people are interested.

[wellntruly]

M*A*S*H - Season 9, misc. notes

Honestly I should probably retire feeling as I do that I have finally reached the Ultimate M*A*S*H note,

“Must you have every conversation nude and wet?”

— — —

For reasons I COULD NOT TELL YOU, the first episode of Season 9, but just the first one, has its own solo horn theme song orchestration, and when I tell you I was not prepared!!!

Here have an indicative video of my reaction from when I immediately alerted Jody to this

I promise I’d only had (2) gin, Suze, & lemon things

“What about BJ? He’s gotta be a bridge player, he lives in the suburbs!” Must feel so great to just get bodied by Father Mulcahy.

Oh, Margaret & BJ in this casually collaborative daydrunk register is VERY fun. This is what you guys get trying to corral a pair of flirty blondes.

We just got a product placement for this. Allowed.

Honestly, who was like, it’s gonna be raining, hard, whole episode. Amazing. And They Were All So Damp.

……Klinger has a pair of gay chinchillas. This is not extrapolation this is real.

Any time they turn Hawkeye into Dr. W.H.R. Rivers, that’s the business.

I will someday have to go down the entire imagination rabbit hole of them actually moving camp. Hawkeye just indicated they moved 5 months ago. That’s wild.

Can’t believe I’m only just now asking, but what on earth are they winding on this phone? Update: it's powering the battery!

New Season Nine Theme Song II is actually maybe the most similar to Theme Original Era and it’s giving me some emOTIONS THAT ARE NOW BURSTING FORTH AT THIS CONTINUING JAZZY BACKGROUND MUSIC INTO THE OPENING SCENE LIKE WE USED TO OMG

Idly tracking what light makes Alan Alda’s hair look the most grey and which the most dark is a foolish errand, but one to which I apply myself. Natural lighting is a factor.

“Any father of Margaret’s is a father of mine.” Hawk you already have two dads, easy.

“Educational materials” is such a good euphemism

Sometimes I have to stop and think about how Sherman Potter is a doctor, and then my heart kinda melts over him. He’s regular army who went medical <3

BJ is now wearing the pink shirt WITH the vermillion suspenders AND the patched hat. Best with/and credit I’ve seen in a while.

Oh Mike’s doing a winter episode, hey!

Helmet cloche over the snacks…this speaks to me

Interesting, I find this time of death plot more morally dubious than you all seem to!

Having it suddenly be December 31, 1950, THE earliest we’ve ever been stated to be, is so deranged. :) Hold on let me pull up my Wikipedia history notes titled “KOREAN WAR FUCKING TIMELINE”... okay, yes: the front was so chaotic at that time

NAVY BLUE PARKAS????!

Okay good the coats are a plot point

HILARIOUS to now immediately skip forward a month and a half

Never mind, INCREDIBLE to be like, time is meaningless here 😎 all of 1951 in one episode

Not tan Margaret’s 1980 feathered hair too….

Everyone uses BJ to wind yarn. This we love.

The meta irony of them pretending to be cold while it’s canonically hot……..yes.

“You blow one more kiss, Pierce, and those lips will never walk again.” Been TOO long since a line like this and a gay little draw-back from Hawkeye, particularly at a senior officer.

I kind of like everyone calling him Max, now. Feels cozy.

BJ waking up and mildly going heyy, what’s going on, do I need to go with you to wherever these large Marines are taking you---strong shades of BJ Part One

Twice now in the last two seasons I’ve seen Hawkeye pull on a pair of pants and belt them over his T-shirt, and then the next time we see him full-length his shirt is its usual untucked. They simply refuse to change the established character design silhouette any more, and I’m like, just once?? Haha okay, just realized part of why I get amped about the dressy uniforms.

Appreciate that Potter has NO patience for Wagner, on, hilariously, purely political grounds. I mean valid.

Klinger finally meeting his Canadian friend from the radio :: me finally meeting a mutual from the internet

Charles: “Noo, you chimney sweep.” INCRedible

I will take Harry Morgan’s pronunciation of “Au revoir” tenderly to my grave. “Ohhh reh-vore”

BJ is so annoyed. He does not like Hawkeye soliciting sexual favors with wine. Which is funny as his opening remark was to offer sexual favors for the wine. In many ways, this episode is shaping up to have such a "Season 1" effect, for good or ill.

AND Klinger in a dress again! “your coquette look” coquette…Potter….

Oh okay it was the Season 1 Commentary episode lol

Just so simple and effective and timeless to predicate a whole episode on “one of our characters is injured”

BJ curling away from everyone like a dog with a hurt paw, oh boy

Strudel, I do not think you are “BJ’s doctor” in any way except that you would like to be

EXTREMELY in love with ~*A Potter Production*~

Specialist: “Way to find out fast is to lift that middle finger, see how bad it hurts.” BJ, at Hawkeye’s hesitation: “Go on, you’re just following doctor’s orders.” OH GODDD

We gotta…..we gotta not be filming up Alda's bare thighs again. Now it’s a pattern.

BJ lying on his back, eyes open in the dark, not even pretending he’s falling asleep just thinking his thoughts in the new Night Thoughts time he’s been granted by circumstance: me my two summers without AC in New York City. He's got it right.

Margaret, respectfully: cute buns

Gonna need to do a real “Computer, enhance” on this postcard pinned by Hawkeye’s bed that does not appear to be to him.

Okay definitely is this addressed to a Mr. John Murdock, in Seattle, Wash. It appears to be from Victoria. Set dressing department, no one wanted to write an absurd fake postcard to Hawkeye? Are you kidding? That’s the best assignment!

Oh my god, Margaret’s cute buns are a plot point!

Klinger’s striped pantaloons...

BJ, you’re 6’4”. Or nearly.

A type of humor that will always get me is when the person stuck listening to someone fret over a situation they are entirely imagining just pivots along with whatever it is this minute. "No wonder Peg is leaving you!" just killed me.

This is not the kind of joke that normally makes me laugh, but I’m losing it. I think it’s that everyone is so baffled, just silently listening to this surreal butt rash talk echoing in the middle of the night, peering quizzically up at the speakers like…….wat

Madly in love with this episode description that feels exactly like those fake Star Trek: TNG synopses that writer was posting. I think it’s the incongruous A plot/B plot paired with a qualitative value judgement, something that’s usually more the purview of an audience.

What you must love about Klinger is that he always gets the right outfit for the job

Ding ding ding, our second “SNAFU”

It happens so rarely that I've never gained any protection against it, I am simply NEVER ready for Hawkeye to mention Trapper. GOD. I freeze! Heart and limbs! And then to just go on, depressedly: “Trapper John goes. No problem, there's plenty more where he came from. BJ Hunnicutt---same size, same shape.” Ha ha YIKES? YIKES to all of you and me!!!!!! Wooow!!!!!

And they took Frank Burns, and sent you Winchester. You snap Henry Blake’s in half. Hawkeye….! Alan. (dir.)

EXCUSE ME HIS NAME IS IGOR STRAMINSKY? LOOOOOLLLL

Just love Hawkeye in this mode, intent and askew with a strange fey air. Trapper would be spending this whole episode keeping tabs on him [DON'T touch me]; BJ is basically nowhere to be found. Perhaps understandable given earlier Hawkeye said that he was just one warm body replacing another. LORDT, lately this show is really getting like, have you considered Hawkeye/BJ, bleak? And I’m like …..huh! Oh???

Innncredibly discomfiting for you to be calling him Ben, reporter

Wow Potter I’m obsessed with this painting where you’ve rendered Hawkeye as a wry and definitely dead little ghast! Sherman hello???

Charlie is like, genuinely plotting how to maim or murder this man.

Must you have every conversation nude and wet?

BJ....[short sigh], there's no need to be so combative about missing your family. Again.

Hawkeye, tired: “Well look at the bright side: at least you have me.” BJ, also tired: “You’re gonna have to shave.” Honestly the more they make Hawkeye/BJ into something rather grim and downtrodden and transactional the more I can believe it's happening, haha uh oh! Oh no!

This scene is perfect. This is a perfect scene. Ogden Stiers delivering his recorded will in exactly the right tone, Alda and Farrell listening out of focus in the door window with exactly legible enough reactions...

Whoooo is your tall card friend, Margaret! Who calls you “kid” 👀

Oh another odd tone this episode that I am so interested in, what’s going on!!

Of this and the other "Hawkeye's jokes are a symptom of his complex traumas" episode, this one is hitting him SO much harder about it, positively You're In A Narrative shit. Elated. Alan. Again.

Just self-identified as Ben Pierce. Everything’s going, excuse me, bottoms up.

“Our own clean-cut, adorable, soft-spoken BJ is a perverse genius.” When are we??!! This was still true in early S6 at the ABSOLUTE latest. This has not been true at all for nearly three years. Clean-cut! What! Soft-spoken. At this point BJ yells in every third episode.

Waaaait a minute, don’t malaria pills give you weird ass dreams? Well this has incredible potential. Perhaps not here, but for me.

Thank you for the return of Margaret & Hawkeye: Buddies. Hawkeye: “Alright that does it, I’m putting him on report. How do you do that?”

Okay is this gonna be the only M*A*S*H episode that ends with a scientific note about medical advances since the 1950s?? Can all of them???

I have been wondering for nine seasons now about the PA announcer we have never seen. Wonderfully banally surreal. This comes entirely from the same realm as Radar's clairvoyance and I support it with all I am.

Hawkeye has phantom allergies and after their tests are inconclusive it takes all of no seconds for them to start offering garlic and essential oils. NOTHING IS NEW UNDER THE SUN.

Continuing to glimpse Margaret hovering outside and hollering in suggestions whenever they open the door to the showers is SUCH GOOD STUFF

I appreciate the uh, SEVERITY of how badly Hawkeye has deteriorated in one scene cut. I did play a game later with my therapist friend called When Would YOU Call The Psychologist, and she also would not have picked Sidney over like, an ALLERGIST, at this moment. Granted I would like them to call Dr. Freedman every episode on the grounds of I love him.

Well I am deeply enjoying the psychological detective show this one has turned into. It’s so tactile! Will Sidney find an meaningful object in one of these boxes that explains Hawkeye’s psychosomatic sneezing?? Haha what a House M.D. episode.

Ah so your mom was still alive when you were six. Your mom was gone by the time you were what, 10? Oh honey…

Of course little Hawkeye almost drowned. I don’t know why that fits for him but it does. I guess because we've seen him experience quite a number of upsetting things while sopping wet. Hawkeye, dripping water and distressed, is a regular visual feature.

Gooodddd one of the best odd little things this show does sometimes is give us lines that don’t make sense, and we think we must have misheard, and then realize we didn’t, and then the floor feels a little loose.

Wow so we’re just gonna open this one directly with Swayze, huh

Wait okay, in the space of showing up for his second scene this ep I’ve come around to Rizzo. I think it’s that he’s always been crouching. It makes his deep raspy voice so funny from this angle. You just come around a corner and aw JEEZ it’s that baritone rat again with his little rat craps game. I thought we told you to clear outta here!

“Don’t think of it as a den, Father, think of it more as a…rec room.” Ogden Stiers….

You know who else’s characterization has moved more into a realm I find less interesting as the years have gone by? Father Mulcahy. He’s more what you might expect from a priest in a MASH unit now, usually around just to get righteously worked up over things. In the early seasons he was kind of lost and unsure and dorkily funny, askew from everyone else, but sweet and loved. Henry Blake tumbling into the Swamp and nearly hitting him with the door, swearing, then going “Oh I’m sorry Father I thought you were a regular person,” and him just cheerily, bashfully going “Quite alright!” as he ducks out. He was, above all, a model of empathy and forgiveness. He loved them, as Jesus loved, and so forgave them all their ridiculous, drunken, horny goings on, and was worried but content to just be kept as their sort of pet chaplain. Mulcahy in the later years has a MUCH much stronger sense of judgement, and is frequently quite caught up in his own even rather self-aggrandizing issues, to the point of sometimes being blind to the struggles of those around him, like is going on here. And he always figures it out, but like, I don't know it just feels more typical to me.

“Tasteless but at least it’s not funny.” Haha Margaret

Radar??! Hawkeye, misty: “That little twerp, just when I thought I’d gotten over him.” </3

“Just cuts and bruises—I’ve come home from dates in worse shape than you.” Hawk, don’t toss more kindling on this low-burning fire in the corner of my mind.

I kind of adore Margaret befriending the optometrist. They both LIKE each other a lot, in a completely platonic way.

I ADORE MARGARET AND THE OPTOMETRIST PRETENDING THEY’RE HAVING AN AFFAIR AS A BIG OL’ LARK

I also like Hawkeye and BJ taking bets with each other where they bet the same thing and then just exchange their money

Mulcahy: “What time is it in Iowa?” Charles: “1882.” I laughed so long.

Kellye holding the injured nurse’s hand. <3 They’ve been pals for seasons on seasons. I don’t know her name!

This felt like, appropriately war-is-hellish, while still maintaining their wry humor. This was real good.

Hawkeye’s French toast recipe has so many textural components...

Reeeally love the strange, moving simplicity of Charles just desperately asking this dying soldier, “What is happening to you?” Yeah, good episode!

— — —

Season Viewguides

These

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

I know I’ve said this sort of thing before, but was thinking again today of how much Nish Kumar is both objectively a very good comedian, and for my subjective tastes, the perfect comedian. He covers all my interests. He does the satirical stuff with the (mostly) older generation and the newer panel shows with the younger (well, comparatively younger) TV comedians. Equally at home on The Bugle or on Taskmaster, on The News Quiz or on Hypothetical.

I’ve heard people say that Nish’s appearance on Taskmaster was funny, because at that time he was known as the smart political comedian from The Mash Report, and this showed a very different side to him. I watched Taskmaster before I watched The Mash Report, but I did already know who Nish Kumar was by then, because I’d been listening to The News Quiz for years. So the Taskmaster version of Nish Kumar didn’t surprise me because he was less competent than the Mash Report version – it surprised me because he was much sillier, and less competent, than the News Quiz version.

Incidentally, I’d never actually seen Nish Kumar before I watched Taskmaster in March 2020, I’d only heard his voice on the radio. When I was watched Taskmaster, I was shocked to learn he’s only a few years older than me – I’d pictured him as being 15 or 20 years my senior, as I pictured most people on Radio Four whose faces I’d never seen.

Anyway. The point is that Nish Kumar is everything I like, across the board. Hangs out with the Josh Widdicombe/Ed Gamble/Rose Matafeo/James Acaster crowd, and this makes for good chemistry on panel shows and things. But also does a lot to carry on the legacy of the Chocolate Milk Gang, and has cited Andy Zaltzman, John Oliver, Daniel Kitson, and David O’Doherty as people he looks up to in comedy. And, you know, sometimes as adoptive fathers.

(This isn’t the point of this post, but the picture from which that was cut is awesome and I’ll take any excuse to post it:

I’m 90% sure it’s the 2003 Melbourne Comedy Festival. Also, the last time I posted this I said it had Dave Gorman, Glenn Wool, Lee Mack, Jason Byrne, Adam Hills, Daniel Kitson, David O’Doherty, and Noel Fielding, but I’ve only just noticed Danny Bhoy and Dan Antopolski in the back as well. Anyway, I digress. Back to Nish Kumar.)

He gets on The Bugle and takes on niche aspects of political systems with Andy Zaltzman and Alice Fraser. Then he fails to kick a basketball on Taskmaster. Then he releases two comedy albums that are some of the smartest political comedy from the post-Brexit era. Then he goes on Question Team and makes me fall over laughing with his round about takeaway prices. Then he’s on The Mash Report pissing people off in the way that most political comedy TV shows don’t, because most political comedy TV shows are not nearly as incisive as that one (also because of racism). Then he’s being bad at numbers with Roisin Conaty on Catsdown. Then he’s doing brilliant stand-up that blends the personal with the political aspects of racism and other larger issues. Then he’s on The Last Leg doing impressions of Josh Widdicombe’s accent. He hosted The News Quiz for a few weeks after Miles Jupp left, auditioning for the job against Angela Barnes and Andy Zaltzman. When they gave it to Andy instead of him, on the next Bugle episode he went out of his way to tell the audience that Andy won’t brag about it himself but they should know how big a deal it is and how much Andy Zaltzman deserves the position.

He’s hyping up Andy Zaltzman and messing around with James Acaster and performing with Daniel Kitson and drinking whiskey wrong with Mark Watson and knocking over Rosie Jones and writing newspapers with Josh Widdicombe and picking fights with Piers Morgan to defend John Oliver’s honour. He’s all the great things, and specifically he’s all the things I like best. He’s just the best one.

And, in case I haven’t emphasized it enough, the things he does with everyone else aside, his own material is fantastic. When the filmed version of Your Power Your Control finally gets released, I will not let anyone I know get away with not watching it. I already took my best friend to see it live in Montreal, and he... did not much like it. Not his sort of humour; I guess he’s just not into complex and intelligent ruminations on the personal in the political with anger and conviction and, yes Daily Mail writers, also lots of great jokes. Actually, the thing that’s really not my best friend’s type of humour is “British” (his words, not mine). You can see why I made this blog; if I didn’t get to get rid of all these thoughts online, I wouldn’t have any friends left. But I’m going to make everyone watch Nish Kumar anyway.

[straycatboogie]

2023/04/15 English

BGM: Aphex Twin - Windowlicker

Today I worked early. I tried to read my past diary again, and think about what had changed in me. Let's go back to the genesis. About 10 years ago, when I was at the very bottom of my life and lost any hope... at that period, I went to the supermarket after my work everyday to buy some beers, and drank them completely. Just thinking as "I shouldn't be born", "This era is not I belong to", "I want to die", and "today is the day I can do nothing as usual"... Literally, I drank alcohol like showering from my head, and nothing else to do. About 20 years! Maybe I even thought in such days as "I want to become bigger", but actually I did nothing to realize that ambition. Ah, it was really a sad period. How would it be if I tried to learn English during those drunken days? But, this reglet would take me nowhere.

The reason why I tried to stop drinking was just that I was truly broke. So, if I stopped drinking, I could save money. And also I felt it was really sad to spend my days hurting myself by alcohol. In short, I had no "great" motivation. When I started attending the "danshu" meeting and quitting alcohol, I even felt a fear of that new life. Since that period, alcohol was literally my life saver. Or it was a kind of spiritual gasoline. Indeed, it affected badly to my mind and body, but I could move nowhere if I didn't drank alcohol. Alcohol was the friend of mine, so living without it practically mean I became empty. Or it means that I have to live without God who I had believed strictly. I felt anxiety because I couldn't think I could live that life. How would it be? I can never seen.

Starting attending the "danshu" meeting, being guided by various senior members... I tried to start walking, and eventually have been getting a certain pleasure of that sober life. Until that time, I couldn't have any meal without alcohol enough. I believed that alcohol made my meal delicious (or I thought I could live without meal if I drank alcohol). But I started learning that every meal is delicious if I stay sober (especially, the current group home provides really delicious meals). And I started spending my days with this sober mind. I started enjoying books, movies, and music... that made me notice that staying sober brings me a clear happiness. Until that time, I just believed that sober life is just to endure boredom, but now I feel that it means an active life. After that, by accidentally I remembered the past that I had learned English at Waseda, and started learning English again. But, of course, this was realized because I tried to quit alcohol. That makes me the mystery of my life or my destiny.

And... I started writing my diary in English. I also started chatting in English on Discord. Starting learning about autism again, and enjoying the friendship from that handicap... now I notice that I can enjoy my sober life, thinking clearly with my mind. I can enjoy writing and reading. That's really glad to me. By writing English, I noticed that I own a little toughness or coolness in me... Writing English is also changing me. I want to write about this at other day's diary. Usually, TBH my head is full of desire or delusion for women (you must know already what I'm saying). But if I start chatting in English, another personality in me starts working. That seems attracting other guys (I am not any great person. I know this myself a lot). It is a certain enigma for me in this world.

[ohvu]

chapter one — I'm under your bed

wc: 304 ,, warnings pledis slander ig, curses, lowercase intended (written) ,, notes. set pre girls planet era . not proof read

standing in front of the director’s office, you took deep breaths contemplating whether to do it or not. “fuck this, I’m already here anyways”

knocking on the door, you waited for him to reply. finally hearing the ‘come in’ you took a deep breath before entering.

‘ah yn, what brings you here’ the ceo ushered you to sit down after greeting him.

‘well, I heard mnet is hosting another survival show. I was hoping if you would allow me, I’d like to participate and audition’

‘hm, may I ask why?’

hearing this, you also wondered why. you’re one of the trainees that exceeded the trainers’ expectations whenever they held trainee evaluations. you were sure that you would be a member if they're preparing a debut team, what urged you to take a risk?

‘I actually don’t know myself. I know I’ve been training for quite a while now but recently, I started thinking if being an idol is really the correct path for me? especially now that I’m reaching my twenties.’

‘I wanted to audition, to maybe find a reason why I should continue this path that I’ve been taking for so long. I wanted to find that passion that I lacked recently.’

‘i see’ he held his hands together looking down, thinking. ‘are you sure about this?’ he questioned.

‘positive’ you nodded, sighing after.

‘well then, you have my support. you have my permission, I hope you find what you’re looking for through the show.’ he nodded, offering his hands to shake it with yours.

‘thank you sir’ you shook his hands and bowed.

‘you may leave now, training hours are starting soon.’ he sat back down, motioning the door.

‘ah yes, I’ll get going. thank you again’ you bowed one last time, watching him dial someone before leaving the room.

error. erase the first 'to' on the second pic + intensions* on the last pic

mstrlst | prev – next

SYNOPSIS. debuting was a dream of yours, the problem was pledis doesn't have any plans on debuting a girl group soon. joining a survival show was your last chance, thus, you took it in hopes of debuting. now that you’ve achieved it, you promised yourself to not let anything hinder you while promoting. fate, however, had other plans. bumping into your senior slash label mates was a normal occurrence, but being them interested in a junior slash label mate wasn't. oh, how fate wanted to spice up things.

a/n. surprise surprise fdjhdf (early) first chapter 😵😵😵. lmao I was scared posting this but oh well . I'll only update once a week until schools over, I hope your okay w that 😓😓 this chapter gives off a bit of yn personality I think??? bffs can some of yall lend ur users ? ill tag you when I do use it 😧😧

taglist. @ikasaeki @wony6ung @pitchblacksmile @yenart @lunaflvms @1-800-lixie @enloveclub @strawbrinkofdeath @rich-man-v @moon-lys @prettywon @luvarots @mitsukifilms @soobcheek @keewho @jjhmk @strwbrymlkes @bigtoewinwin @nshrkilvbt @arizejkt19 (send an ask to be added + lmk if the tags doesn't work)

© 95trivia. all rights reserved

[thebleedingwoodland]

⚠️ Long post as usual. ⚠️

I repeat again, I’m senior 3D designer who used to work in video game company, now in field similar to video game (I don’t want to reveal my current real life work due to privacy), it’s my job to analyze game content. Gamer for many video game titles and customer for EA (Electronic Arts) since The Sims 1. English is not my first language. 

Continuation from post:

EA Misinterpretation About China And Chinese Culture About Shang Simla World

Reply About Somebody Asked About Chinese Clothing And Accuracy About Shang Simla Clothing

EA Maxis Studio Is In San Francisco That Is Heavy Chinese Population And Has Shanghai Headquarters But Didn’t Know What Chinese Gate Looks Like And More Information About Manchu Queue Hair, Dragon Cave, Obscure “Chopsticks” Holder Clutter

Yes, I’m planning to write formal letter to EA. Not just about Shang Simla inaccuracies, but ALL. How low quality The Sims 3 and The Sims 4 despite the developer has already earned massive profits from The Sims franchise titles 1,2,3,4. So far, EA has been developing The Sims 5.

@murfeelee​

No, actually EA Maxis Studio made the content based on stereotypes 😜All countries: Al Simhara, Champ Les Sims, Shang Simla are modern times at village. Sims in their hometown (present time) travel to the three countries immediately (logically by plane). No time machine portal to ancient times. Logically, the three countries are in modern times, right? 

There's ancient Egyptian hair for Al Simhara. Very far B.C years. Must be because the famous “Cleopatra” stereotype. Obviously not recent historical period before modern times. 

And there are modern hairstyles and clothing for Champs Les Sims. France is stereotypically associated with “high fashion�� & “romantic”. Definitely not year 1900-1920. 

Despite the place Champs Les Sims taking place at village, far away from Paris city. 

Conclusion?

The designers must be picking what stereotypes of the countries came in their mind first. They obviously didn’t consult or research about the history what dynasty or time period about the item they created for the game.

Where is Napoleon reference? 

I demand Napoleon hat, costume, French Revolution Era, Medieval clothing, mime clothing, but there are none in Champs Les Sims. 

France is Western country located in Europe, the closest thing U.S.A. and Western people in general can relate, so I can understand why the portrayal of France is modern. No weird controversial historical content or major inaccuracies/wrong portrayal. 

I watched Youtube virtual tour about France village. Champs Les Sims resident houses look like real resident houses in real life. 

Champs Les Sims has correct icon symbol, it’s Eiffel Tower. It has hidden Eiffel Tower that player can access in Buy Debug mode. 

Champs Les Sims has four local dishes. (Cheese Plate, Bouillabaisse, Frog Legs, Crepes, indeed correct French Cuisine). Shang Simla and Al Simhara only has 2 local dishes, both are not correct and not authentic. 

“World Adventures” There is obvious dangerous & action element in Al Simhara (Tomb, torch, mummy), Shang Simla (Martial Arts), then what is so dangerous & action in Champs Les Sims? 

Making wine? 

Collecting fruits to create wine (EA censor it as Nectar) is adventure? 🤣

There are so many countries which better candidates for adventures setting. I prefer Russia (Yeah, because everything associated with Russia is “Strong & Dangerous“ such as cold climate, espionage, military, vodka, missile, tank, ever launched astronaut to space, Chernobyl). But because it’s EA who wants European country that is more famous internationally, fit for casual gamers and has selling points, I can understand why they prefer France instead of others.    

Back to your argument again 

If you said Manchu queue hairstyle is chosen because it’s recent time period before modern times, why EA designers included “all time period” to Shang Simla? There is Hanfu, there is traditional Tang, there is modernised Qipao. Hanfu is from many many Dynasties way back before Qing Dynasty. 

Years 1912 onwards, Chinese men have short hair.  

Double braids were popular for Chinese women at that time. 

Manchu queue/braid hairstyle is chosen because of stereotypes about Chinese men in USA country. Historically because first immigrants of Chinese men came to work in USA having queue hairstyle. They retained the queue/braid hairstyles because of under Qing Dynasty’s Manchurian rule. History of Chinese American. 

I doubt the designers in EA Maxis studio ever know what dynasty or what period queue hairstyle belongs to. If only they did research and consult to actual Chinese people (at least did effort ask to Ayi & Shushu who are Chinese elder women and men who are shop owners in San Francisco’s Chinatown nearby their EA’s Maxis Studio for 51 minutes by car or asking their own employees in Shanghai Headquarters), the Chinese people will strongly suggest popular hairstyles by celebrities and long haired with bun for ancient times. They would tell the EA designers why Qing’s queue/braid was very painful historically. 

Why are many Chinese people disgusted with the Qing Dynasty? (Quora answer)

Western equivalent must be Adolf Hitler/Nazi/Holocaust-related something.  If EA Maxis released Nazi-related moustache/costume, I bet somebody complained to EA on Sims forum for being “insensitive’.  

The designers would say sorry and chose to not include Queue/braid hair in-game, but instead, ancient long hair with bun. 

Jay Chou, Andy Lau, F4. They are idol superstars known by Chinese people, were very popular in year 2000′s. 

Must be argument again, “But Shang Simla is supposed to take place at village! The “emo” hairstyles are too modern Western & Japanese! Not Chinese enough! Blah blah blah” 

Relax alright...have some entertainment. Because in reality, I bet actual Chinese people in year 2009 would answer like that. (When I was in college year 2009, I had emo haircut similar to Jay Chou! 🤣 ) The fact that China, Taiwan, Hong Kong, and the people are modern not too different than France, U.S.A or any Western countries. Not stuck in the past having ancient hair. 

I already answered in my previous post. The usual Chinese men hair either: 1) Short hair for modern times  2) Long hair with bun for ancient times (for traditional style, usable for storytelling purpose taking in ancient times especially for Chinese Simmers）

Ordinary farmers in China with very short hairstyles. 

That’s it. Perfect for in-game local Shang Simla Sims, alright. The Sims game needs a lot of varieties for short haircut for Male Sim, because it’s very lacking real ordinary men hair, others are too fancy/girly/weird male haircut and female hairstyles. Hats and weird hairstyles are not really usable in-game. Who the hell uses “Queue/braid hairstyle” anyway?

I’m not talking about painful history, but technically, this kind of “weird” and “ugly” hairstyle will not be used by general Sims players worldwide. 

Too many hats...

”Straw Hats“ must be stereotype about Asian people by Western people. Asian in general, not just China. Wearing Straw Hats while planting rice plant at paddy field looks very “exotic” and “very Asian” in Western people’s eyes. 

In real life at Chinese village, there are farmers wearing straw hats. But technically in-game, they are taking too much space in catalog and not reusable. Who else creating Sims with straw hats? Probably almost none. Very rare occasion such as my Sim wearing straw hat only to commemorate World’s Food Day just for once and using EA’s content that never been used. After that, never been used at all. 

Except you want to make your Sim cosplaying as Raiden from Mortal Kombat. I doubt majority Sims players worldwide big fan of Raiden and will make use of straw hats in-game.

 It’s supposed CC creators for creating specific hats for specific use, not game developer. 

There are Inaccuracies in Al Simhara, Egypt world. Not just Shang Simla. 

Snake charming with the shape of flute and basket is obviously from India. 

I know because I read a lot of encyclopedias when I was kid way before internet. When I first seeing trailer for “Al Simhara” in year 2009, I was confused. Why EA added snake charming for Egypt world? That is from India. 

Al Simhara local foods are Shawarma & Falafel, which are Middle Eastern cuisine. 

Egypt is different country in North Africa with separate culture, then do not mix them with India, Arab and other Middle Eastern countries. Yes actually Shawarma & Falafel are exist in Egypt (spread from Arab) but there are more dishes that are more authentic in Egypt.  

Egypt’s national dish is Koshary. 

List of Egyptian dishes: 

Foul Mudammas/Medames and Taameya (Fava Beans Stew and Falafel)

Koshary (Mixture of Rice, Macaroni, and Lentils)

Hamam Mahshi (Stuffed Pigeons)

Tarb (Grilled Kofta Wrapped in Lamb Fat)

Molokhiya (Jute Soup)

Halabesa (Chickpea Soup / Drink)

Mahshy (Stuffed Veggies)

Kawaree (Cow Feet)

Hawawshi (Meat Sandwich)

Macarona Bechamel (Egyptian Baked Pasta)

Feseekh (Fermented, Salted, and Dried Fish)

Feteer (Egyptian Pie)

Akawi (Ox Tail)

Keshk (Savory Pudding)

Katayef (Mini Pancakes)

Egyptian Sobia Drink

Om Ali (Egyptian Bread Pudding)

Konafa

Medalaa (The Spoiled Girl Dessert)

Meshabek (Egyptian Funnel Cake)

Must be too foreign/never heard before for general Westerners & USA people, so I can understand EA chose Shawarma & Falafel that are more famous and sold in Western country while they are actually Middle Eastern dishes. 

Yeah, how disappointing. I bet EA’s Maxis employees must have ever eaten Chinese food in Chinatown, probably the cheap ones 🤣 all-you-can-eat buffet style, westernized, not authentic, and be served Fortune Cookies. No wonder the food portrayal in Shang Simla looks like that. There must be a lot of Chinese people that they can ask for interview and they can see actual big Chinese gate. Very very different shape from Japanese Torii Gate, that elementary school kid can tell the difference. *facepalm*

I understand you like Wuxia/ancient fictional settings, but please be logical & rational. The worlds (Shang Simla, Champs Les Sims, Al Simhara) are in modern times but at village. If you say “ancient fictional” then it should be separate game, not together in the same timeline as The Sims. Example: The Sims Medieval is standalone game, not Expansion Pack. The game takes place in European Medieval ancient times.

The better idea is, made by other game developer, not EA. 

Game developer from the country origin itself, from China (Everstone Games) You must be heard When Winds Meet which trailer was out late August. The settings are Wuxia during the beginning of the Northern Song Dynasty. Looks very Assassin’s Creed-like. I used to wishing there’s Assassin’s Creed taking place in ancient China but can’t expect Ubisoft or any Western game developer to make it.  

EA’s idea of “World Adventures” taking place in real life actually great idea, original for The Sims game, but bad at execution. The only EA’s fault that they did not do research and consult to the person who is expertise and definitely lacking real life resources. China is actually suitable country for “Adventure” because of rich culture and fortune, which are very blended well with the game. 

Argue again that “The Sims 3 World Adventure was released in 2009, there’s not enough Chinese exposure in USA/West/etc at that time...?”

There’s no way “not enough exposure” while you can see Chinese ethnic are everywhere and migrated to almost all countries. Biggest human population is in China country. Biggest population Chinese ethnic outside China/Taiwan/Hongkong is in Southeast Asia region (Indonesia, Malaysia, Singapore, Thailand). Visit websites that show counts how many population of Chinese ethnic in USA, Canada, Australia, that’s quite high too. If anyone with this question, don’t forget that The Sims 3 game is sold in Taiwan, Hongkong, China too.

I’m talking about corporate/professional level, not amateur free custom content creator. If big corporate wanted to do portrayal about other countries, then do some serious research and ask the experts, as they clearly have the budget and resources.

Many video game titles taking place in real life countries, able to portray them well due to effort they did on research and consultation to the person originated from real life countries. 

Take an example from Crash Bandicoot 3: Warped. Developer: Naughty Dog. The game was released in 1998 (when I was kid). Game levels taking place in several countries and obvious ancient time machine portal. 

I can tell you whoever taking charge in designing Crash Bandicoot did research very well. Even thought the game theme is cartoon and fictional. The dragon, colour, Great Wall, Chinese writing 《萬里長城》 on banner, music, sound effects, everything are very good. NPCs wearing hanfu, long hair with bun, no Manchu queue braid hairstyle, no straw hats.  

Crash Bandicoot 3: Orient Express (1998)

The dragon colour is yellow and blue. That is correct. Good portrayal for old game released in 1998. 

Crash Bandicoot 3: Orient Express (Remastered version) 

The dragon was updated with actual Chinese dragon design. The colour is right: Orange, yellow, blue, green. 

The colour of Great Wall floor is jade green colour, which the colour meaning is prosperity and good luck in Chinese culture. 

Compared to EA’s Maxis Shang Simla: 

Had EA’s Maxis employees ever seen actual Chinese dragon statue？？ 

Red is not suitable for statue at all, especially the statue for fountain!  Really hot in the eyes (I speak this as designer). 🔥🔥

Red is lucky colour in Chinese culture, but not for the dragon. Chinese dragon brings luck and prosperous. The sculpture is usually colorful: Yellow (symbolizing gold for fortune), green, orange, sometimes blue. 

Chinese dragon fountain （Google search in English language）

“Dragon cave” statue does exist in China and other Southeast Asian countries that have big Chinese population. Definitely not like EA’s Shang Simla. 

Yellow Dragon Cave, Zhejiang, China. 

Cave entrance at Guilin, Guangxi, China. 

Dragon tunnel at Yong Peng, Johor, Malaysia.

Kwan Sing Bio Temple, Tuban, East Java, Indonesia.

Dragon Tiger Pagoda, Kaohsiung, Taiwan.

The dragons are colourful. 

Disney’s Mulan animated movie (1998). Portraying men’s hairstyles with bun. No random Manchu queue braid hairstyles.

EA’s other version of The Sims actually can portray authentic Chinese culture: The Sims Freeplay 

Because it’s made by Firemonkeys Studio, mobile game developer based in Australia. Not Maxis from San Francisco, USA.  

// Youtube Link 1  //   Youtube Link 2 //

Don’t forget Sims Freeplay has Chinese New Year Update. I can say the portrayal is accurate. The clothing (modernized Qipao, Tang, have pattern, good design), Lantern has details, there’s Lion Dance with loud attraction music, Hong Bao (Red Envelope), Hong Bao tree, Chinese candies, decorations related to Chinese New Year (oranges), Sims can sit and pray in front of table with food offerings. 

I can relate to this, very true to real life in modern times, no matter live in big city or at village. Definitely cannot feel the same for TS3 World Adventures Shang Simla.  

Eating animation is much better. Sims use both hands knife and fork, not too stiff unlike The Sims 2,3,4 for PC.

Back to Maxis again. 

The Sims 4 “Chinese” food from City Living Expansion Pack (I can smell Maxis employees eating cheap, westernized, not authentic “Chinese” food. Typical American Chinese food.)  There’s Fortune Cookies aka American cookies on food stall logo.

Chinese food is far more variable not just sour-and-sweet something. No Peking Roast Duck? Chicken Feet? Stinky Tofu? Char Siu? Crispy Pork Belly?  Wonton soup? Noodles? Then not authentic. 

Those are Spring Rolls (春捲）, not Egg Rolls. 

Furthermore, Spring Rolls are more popular in Southeast Asian countries rather than China itself. 

Genshin Impact,  game developer from China. 

Egg Rolls are these. Literally EGG ROLLS. 

Simplified Chinese characters used in China:

蛋 =  dàn  (egg)      卷 = juǎn  (rolls)    Egg rolls can be thin biscuit and omelette.

Furthermore, the same Egg Rolls in Japanese: Tamagoyaki. Since Genshin is more into Japanese culture. The food recipes are mostly Japanese. 

Genshin has anime cartoon stylized aesthetic. The texture and details (especially the food) are much better than TS4. 

More Additional Information (Read More):

Chinese New Year Greetings made by China people themselves. The boy and girl illustrations are stereotyped as well. Both wears modernized Qipao and Tang inherited from Qing Dynasty. The girl usually has double buns. The boy wears hat. Notice the boy usually has short haircut. No Manchu queue/braid hairstyle. 

Now you can understand why no Chinese CC creators create Manchu Queue/Braid hair, many of them created long hair with bun as original ancient Han Chinese men’s hairstyles before Qing Dynasty.

Shawarma is delicious, but it is Middle Eastern dish. 

Watch Youtube documentaries to see what Egyptian food looks like:

10 EGYPTIAN FOODS You Must Try Forbidden Food Tour in Cairo!! Egypt’s EXOTIC Food!!

Egyptian Street Food - Seafood HEAVEN + Traditional Egyptian Food Adventure in Alexandria, Egypt!

[prongsmydeer]

Ayesha Liveblogs Bad Buddy S1

If we use 2gether from this network as a benchmark, this street brawl in this opening sequence is absolutely bonkers in comparison

These colour-coded uniforms are actually very helpful for telling who is on which side, all universities should do this

I can’t believe the first interaction between the protagonists of this show involves someone getting drop-kicked in the chest

Hahaha they keep cutting between like, very classical music, polite conversation and good table manners at Pran's house, to Pat's house with a rock guitar riff, and him eating messily and being full of sass

Pran: Good Boy™️, Architecture student, Class President, very organized, doesn't like to fight but is good at it, Strict Family 

Pat: Bad Boy™️, Engineering student, Class President, very messy, also doesn't seem to care for fighting but is known for his short temper

I think Bad Buddy is what I thought that Hook was going to be (a Montague and Capulet-esque feud romance)

“Watch your words. This is why no one cares about you.” 10/10 accurate older brother behaviour from Pat lmao 

“Since when are you this noble?” “Are you bullying your friend?” I think it's hilarious that Drake Laedeke has established himself as Man Who Loves Causing Trouble in Gay Thai Dramas, what a niche

Pat is rescuing Pran,,,, from Pat's own friends????? Whomst and wherefore

“But if you still care about me, then leave Pran alone,” said Pat's sister Pa, not knowing that Pran and Pat were ‘not going to leave each other alone’ in an entirely different sense soon

I'm not sure what's funnier, that Pat is going to end up dating his sister's crush(?), or the fact that this imaginary ‘love triangle’ has names so close together Pat-Pran-Pa I mean come on 

Ahhhh okay the sister’s protectiveness and Pat's mixed feelings abt Pran stem from Pran saving Pat’s sister from nearly drowning as kids, that's a much more sincere connection than I thought there would be 

I would strongly like to have a word with whomever did the costuming for this show WHAT ON EARTH IS PAT WEARING WHO SIGNED OFF ON THIS

“If you think you can end this with a sorry, you’re wrong.” No one taught the Engineering students any conflict resolution skills

HAHAHAHA to end the fighting between their two faculties, Pran and Pat agreed to having Wai, the original instigator, apologize, but then the Engineering students were still mad so now Pran and Pat are pretending to fight while their homies actually fight so no one knows they're in kahoots

It’s funny how they both have a specific friend who gets them into fights. Pat getting pulled in by his friend Korn, and Pran getting pulled in by his friend Wai. Every family has one, I guess

Hahahah apparently Pat is no stranger to breaking into Pran's room, he did it when they were children also

The energy of Pran keeping the watch Pat retrieved for him for like 10 years and only conveying his reunion happiness through a post-it notes is certainly something 

It appears they now live right across the hall from each other at the dorms, neighbour-and-enemies-to-friends-and-lovers continues

I love the constant cutaways to their different ways of approaching life

“It’s a new era already. No more sex object jokes.” Chang is the only one of Pat’s friends with a brain

Pran and Pat are trying desperately to keep their friends apart so that they don't fight and get their faculties banned from group activities

“Whoever fights here will be banned by seniors.” Pran and Pat are so funny when they lie to their friends

Pran’s soprano humming really took me off-guard I was like ‘who’s that’

“Sorry :( I ate your salad. These drinks are my apologies.” Gesture Juice is back in action baybeeeeeeee

Sidenote for anyone who doesn’t follow this particular form of Thai media: There is a very intentional effort to incorporate sponsors into dialogue and plot in a way that is unrivaled by any other network that I have watched. It’s fucking incredible how many plot lines centre around product placement. Which is why 1/4 of this episode is dedicated to Oishi Green Tea + Vitamin C

Other sidenote: there is absolutely no sense in what that delivery guy did, why wouldn’t he just bring Pat a new salad instead of being like ‘your neighbour has it’ kjghkjgh you can’t give someone a salad someone else might have touched 

HAHAHA Pran and Pat keep flirting with notes and gifts on each other's doors, thinking that there is a stranger across the hall interested in them, when in fact they are flirting with each other

Pran's friends say, ‘Go for neighbour man!’ not knowing that he is also Neighbour Frenemy Pat

They keep referring to something Pat is using called a 'male particle' (which is why Pran's friends suspect it's a guy gifter and not a woman) and I have no idea what they mean but it seems it's the box he's putting desserts in??? Does Thailand have To-Go Boxes Just 4 Men?????? 

Ridiculous Rooftop Rendezvous

“Are you bullying him?” “And are you going to stop him?” “No. I’m supporting him all the way.” I take back what I said about Chang having a brain 

Something about the mic set up for this production is not good bc whenever they yell there’s a lot of feedback jkfhkjfhgkjh

Pat’s friends really seem to be the worse of the two groups, bothering Wai at his place of work, coming up to Pran’s door and catcalling assuming it’s a woman like why do u keep them around Pat they suck LMAO

“Stop that toxic behaviour of yours.” Chang PRETENDS to have a brain

“WHERE SHOULD I HIDE?” “ANYWHERE!” How the hell does Pat’s dad NOT hear them yelling inside his dorm??

Rather than explain whatever the hell kinda frenemyship Pran and Pat have going on to Pat's dad, Pran is hiding under Pat's bed lmaoooo

“Don’t talk about them like that, Papa.” Pat’s dad is trash-talking Pran's family while Pat, knowing Pran is right there, asks him to stop

Apparently the reason Pran was suddenly transferred to boarding school in high school was because he and Pat committed the crimes of Being in a Christmas Concert Band Together and Not Hating Each Other with a Fiery Passion

[Ben Wyatt voice] Who hasn't had gay thoughts

LMAO at these cutaways:

 Pran and Pat: Having a tickle fight in an elevator 

 Their friends: Having a street fight at their university bus stop

“Have you not had a secret crush on anyone before?” Weel weel weel

2gether 🤝 Bad Buddy 

 Cutting up objects to make guitar picks for no reason

More to the point, Pran's high school crime that got him transferred was probably Having a Leetle Gay Crush That He Has Chosen to Suppress for the Past Three Years

Speaking of suppressing things, you can visually see Pat's brain go from 🥰 to 🚨WEE OO WEE OO WEE OO 🚨 as he looks at Pran hahaha

I don't even think Pat is making a conscious decision to flirt with Pran but he is very much doing so; he has bought Pran dinner, raced him to their rooms, and now is telling Pran he doesn't need to knock, just come over when he misses him

There are smiley faces all over Pran's apartment that they keep cutting to whenever Pran is happy about Pat, which is almost always

They are arguing about which of their friends is in the right for the bus stop fight over tin can telephone

Pran said: I'm friendship-dumping you for being an ass to my friend

Pat said: No 🥰

Presented without commentary:

Awww Pat showing up to support Pran while he pitches his project 

Two dudes in an empty elevator, 0 feet apart bc they are gay

Dfdskjfh did Pat come armed with an idea or did he just pull this out of his ass on the elevator ride because. Improv King LMAO

“You should learn to see what’s around. You always look at me,” said Pat, while Pran’s smile faded because this assertion was just a little too accurate to be funny to him 

[Tiktok Narrator voice] This is Pran. Pran likes his personal space. This is Pat. Pat also likes Pran's personal space.

They're working together to fix up the bus stop that their friends destroyed —or rather, Pran is working on it and Pat is showing up where he is and going 🥰 “I'm helping” 🥰

“Let’s say we’re both hot guys and we’re boyfriends.” They're roleplaying a couple rn; Pat's overtures of friendship are becoming more and more transparent attempts to woo Pran

“Here’s a corpse flower for someone so pretty.” Pran said: Two can play at the Wooing Game

“It’s like giving up our territory.” Pat is tricking his friends into helping the Architecture boys with the bus stop repairs, this is so stupid and so funny

It's also v funny that their friends have somehow not noticed that Pat and Pran hang out with each other basically every day

Pat kept Pran's guitar when he moved away and left it behind!! 🥺 Now Pran's going to use it in the music competition they're in together

Pran 🤝 Pat 

Storing a keepsake object from the Frenemy Crush of Your Youth in your cupboard in hopes you might one day reunite

Pat arranging so both Architecture and Engineering can be in the contest without taking credit <3 A socially competent Mr. Darcy

The tricking continues: Now Pran is tricking both of their friend groups into being motivated to finish the bus stop by having them 'compete' against each other to do it

Ah, I see Ink will finally bring some women into their friend group lol

Speaking of tropes, it seems there will also be a Faculty Sports Fight

“I thought you said you liked someone in Architecture.” I can't believe that Pat has already indirectly owned up to his feelings for Pran to his friends kgkjhgkjhg

Hahah I like that Pran is consistently a particular person while Pat is consistently sloppy, it kinda serves the point of love forcing them both out of their comfort zone

Further explanation on Ink: Pat’s high school homie/crush has popped back into their lives, and Pat is being hit by a wave of bisexual turmoil while Pran is being hit by a wave of jealousy 

“You can’t be more obvious. Anyone can tell.” How is Pa so clear on what’s going on with Pat and Ink when there is also clearly something going on with Pran that she hasn’t fully clocked yet LOL

Lmao maybe I’m biased but I don’t feel like the sports were a necessary addition to this show, they have enough going on without it 

Also it’s clear to me now I have no idea how rugby is played 

We stan a transparent visual metaphor

It is so interesting to me how Pat and Pran are BOTH upset that Pat is developing feelings for someone else 

Pat said: Sorry for flirting with Ink, it is tender affection time ❤️

Pran said: I forgive you,,,, a little

They’re in a very sweet stage of their relationship of leaning into what they’re feeling but not verbalizing it. Pat is very much like, “I will say all of my flirty thoughts out loud. ❤️” Whereas Pran is very much, “Hahaha ❤️ I’m in danger.”

“Are you afraid people would think I’m flirting with you?” Rugby Romance

“What the hell has gotten into you?” Some people are in love, Korn

Ink from their high school class said: Don't be jealous, Pran, you can also be included in the friendship bracelet club

Also, on a related note, I suspect that Ink is a lesbian, based on nothing but intuition and hope 

“Do you like Ink?” Pat got locked out of his apartment so it is Sleepover Talk Time

Also: Pat posits an incredibly loaded sleepover question

Pran said: I outright refuse this attempt to get me to verbally acknowledge my feelings but god I like you so much it's killing me

Relationship dynamic: Who’s annoying (Pat) & who is annoyed (Pran)

“There’s a lovey-dovey aura around you two.” Ink said: Pran and Pat, sittin' in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g

It should be said that Pat is claiming out loud that he likes Ink (to people other than her), but is doing everything otherwise to indicate that he likes Pran, I do not know how he expects this behaviour to land him with a significant other 

Part of the reason I think Ink will be a wlw is that I kind of think she and Pat's sister will end up together

Unbelievable, Pat is having his sister supervise his outing with Ink to see if she likes him lmaooooooooo is this really what he would do on a date

“Sign number two, eyes don’t lie. Look in the eyes.” Pat is now trying to use his sister's Do You Like Me criteria to sort out his feelings for Pran

It has taken Pat four and a half episodes of telling Pran his dimples are cute and how good he smells and wanting to hang out with him all the time to consider that maybe, just maybe, he likes this man

I genuinely thought he knew that by now kjghkjhgg oh you sweet, stupid boy

Of all the things that have happened in this show, that Pran is currently chewing on plain, untoasted bread is the most perplexing???????????????

Pat is now investigating his feelings while interacting with Pran to see if he likes him, as if that were not apparent by everything that Pat's done for like, their entire semester so far

“But your mom doesn’t allow people inside the house.” “Come on. My mom loves Wai so much.” Fhfkjhfk Pat jealous that Pran’s mum likes his other friend better, as if their parents aren’t enemies

“It’s like you’re not sure if it will turn out good or bad. You’re afraid to feel more. You’re hesitating. You want to jump in but you’re afraid to be heartbroken. You want to step back but also to seize the chance.” High School Pran summarizes their entire romantic situation so far in this song lyric brainstorm  

“Ink isn’t like any other girls.” That’s because she’s GAYYYYYYYYY

A very accurate musical interlude:

“I don’t feel like that’s a love confession at all. It’s like you’re getting something off of your chest.” Ink has diagnosed Pat with Avoiding Your Feelings Syndrome 

It’s funny that they completely skipped over Pat’s contest entry so they didn’t have to deal with a second song hahahaha 

“What’s your problem with this guy?” Several years of repressed love

Pat doesn't know how to deal with his emotions, so instead he picked a fight with Pran’s friend Wai, of whom he is romantically jealous

“I hate to see you play [our song] with someone else.” That was a really quick turnaround time, three minutes later and Pat’s ready to deal with his emotions

Well, they're certainly communicating their feelings now

Ahhhhh Pat looks so relieved by the reciprocation when they pull away the second time but Pran looks even more upset 

“That night, I have nothing to say about it.” Pran said: That was enough being honest with my feelings for me. I'm going to keep my emotions right here, and then one day, I'll die

“How come your mom hates guitar so much?” Pran said: Well, you see Wai, the guitar is a symbol of all the emotions I have been burying since I was 15—

“Do you want me to say it out loud?” What the hell kind of secret are Pran and Pat’s parents hiding I swear if anyone’s related I’m gonna be so mad I can’t go through what Hook did to me again

“Is your business done here?” Pran's mum is so mean, Pat hasn't done anything except fall in love with her son

“Pran likes Ink too, doesn’t he?” Pa is so close, yet so far from the point

Pat's strategy to get Pran to talk about their kiss is to join the Architecture faculty's volunteer camp at a zero waste community; eco-friendly romance with a vague aroma of garbage

Wai has mistaken Pat's attempts to romance for attempts to provoke, which, to be fair, I think it's a bit of both

“What the hell does he want from us?” Wai, Pat wants nothing from anyone other than Pran

Pat said: My talents include refusing to read the room wherever I go

Pat is making headway against Pran's numerous emotional walls on this farmers market trip

They are gently romancing on the beach while fantasizing about what life would be like if their parents weren’t enemies

The printer advert was well done lmao felt more organic than usual

“Someone so perfect like you won’t stay available for long.” Honestly I forget what this friend’s name is but khgjhgk what a supportive if a little surprising thing to say to your homie, Louis

Pran is getting his friends drunk so as to talk them out of beating up Pat, but because the beer company is not a sponsor, they have been blurred out kjhgkjghjg

Pat has run out of willingness to let Pran put off this conversation lol

Pat said: If we're not talking about our feelings, I think we should be able to write them in the sand

“If you don’t say it, how will I figure it out? How can I possibly understand you?” AHHHHH PAT JUST WANTS TO COMMUNICATE 

“It’s so obvious that you like me,” said Pran, as if their make-out session the previous week had not clearly communicated that there were feelings between them already

They are now,,, competing???? To make the other person declare their feelings first,,,, what kinda sillyass approach to flirting kjghkjghghj

“Whoever falls in love first loses.” They are so stupid, and I love them so much

Pat has realized what a win-win situation this is for him

Also, how does NO ONE around them notice Pran putting Pat’s finger in his mouth wjhkkgjhg what kinda selective attention

Pls note: seaweed wins for most organic sponsor integration

“You’re wearing contacts too. How many boys hit on you?” Just one haha

“What if our son brings a boy home?” “So what? His date, not ours. If you’re happy with that person, go ahead.” Honestly I was actually expecting the mum to be homophobic what a pleasant surprise

Pran's mum said: You can date anyone; man, woman, just not the neighbours

Pran, who has been sending flirty texts to Pat this whole meal: 😅

Bold move for Pat to be airdropping his flirty pics to their professor

It's a new school year, Pa is in uni with the rest of them now, and I feel that my wlw intuition was right

I don't know how Pat intends to keep his Neighbourly Flirtationship a secret when his sister is literally sharing a dorm room with him

“Do you like me?” Pat responded to this very casually before promptly running across the hall to scream at his pillow about how much this flirting is getting to him

“Your sophomore friend is husband material.” Hahaha Ink gets the freshman seal of approval from Pa’s friends

The fact that Pat's sister is the same actress who played Pear on 2gether and I didn't realize that until she took off her glasses and put down her hair is really challenging my sense of object permanence and facial recognition

Lmao @ their incredibly public gift exchanges and staring at each other

Pran said: These years of repressed affection weren’t for nothing, I have been waiting my whole life for this

Soda “Sponge Bath”: Creative sponsorship at its finest

Pat and Pran are terrible at hiding their romance, they are lucky Pa does not seem that keen-eyed an observer jkghkgjhkj

“Pat, why are you shirtless?” “I’m doing my side-pack work out.” I mean come on Pa LMAO

Even if Pran weren’t technically seeing someone, Wai kissing his neck in thanks for a favour is still an odd thing to do to your friend

“When did you rehearse the xylophone?” “It’s a secret.” Honestly I don’t understand enough about the xylophone to tell who can play and who can’t

Very reasonable of Ink to get annoyed at Pat for flirting when they’ve already established they don’t have feelings for each other

“But if you can’t help, I may have to forfeit my scholarship. I need to stop playing rugby and focus on the play. And I need to work to pay for the tuition. For that reason, I might need to sleep in class. I won’t be able to complete the assignment. I might not be able to graduate with you guys. But I get you, man. You already have a lot on your hands.” Wai has been taking guilt trip lessons from my mother 

“I’m not always playing games with you. I just want to see you.” “If that guy didn’t quit the play, would you still want to see me?” Hahaha Pran called out, Pat has all the Architecture gossip

Incredibly reasonable for Pran not to want to confess his feelings in front of their entire seminar class jkhfkfh not an equal exchange for being in the Architecture play hahaha 

“Why did you come? Don’t you want to win?” “If my victory puts my boyfriend in trouble, I’d rather lose.” AWWWWWWWW PAT

“As for me, when I have a lover, I always let my lover win.” “When was I ever your lover?” They’re very cute

Now they are just being very cute trying to make the other get the door by kissing them and going ‘no u get it’

Awwwww Pran cuddling with Pat’s Nong Nao doll as he sleeps

Fdfjkfkhsdkjhfkjhf I love this transition from friendship to romance:

Pat (sweetly): No occasion. I just want to do it for you. Do you like it?

Pran: You’re giving me chills. Just act normally.

Pat (course correcting): Asshole! Just freakin’ eat.

Pran: Too rude!

Pat (laughing): What do you want me do then?

Hahahaha them having sleepovers and holding hands behind Pa truly their efforts at hiding their relationship are dismal 

“What the hell are you doing? I told you to work!” They are also not productive at working on this play together bc all they do is flirt kjhgkjgh

“Don’t tell me you have eyes for [Pa] too?” It is funny that Wai and Pran, who are long-time BFFs, have a type that is limited to one family LMAO

Also I'm loving this little InkPa subplot, finally, some ✨women✨

It’s totally fair that Pran is the more nervous of the two to be found out, considering his parents are stricter and have already transferred him once before

“We didn’t expect you to be courting someone in Architecture. I admire that very much!” The rivalry does not apply when it comes to imaginary hot girls apparently

All of the English slogan shirts in this show make absolutely no sense. Pat’s current shirt says, “Proud to be a Noles hater” referencing the football team from Florida State University. Who is the Republican Floridian on their wardrobe staff kjfhkfhgkhgjhkjh 

“Why does he always meddle with my life?” asked Wai, as if Pat wanted anything from him other than for him to stop being so touchy with Pran lmao 

“[A secret]’s a kind of relationship I always avoid.” LOL Pran has been waiting for an opportunity to vent about the strain of secret dating

I can’t believe Pat is essentially being lectured about being too well-rounded. Like dude helps build a bus stop, participates in music contests, has been in rugby for two years in a row and it’s disappointing to miss some practice for a short-term commitment to the play? Papa pls

“You’re not Nong Nao. But you’re Nong Noo (babygirl).” We are all become babygirl

They are arguing about Pat being a little too public about his feelings, which has resulted in this incredibly strange topless xylophone emotional confrontation

This is the weirdest sequence in this show by far. Just two and a half minutes of staring and aggressive Thai xylophone 

“Aren’t you afraid people would find out?” “I am. But I care about you more. I’m your boyfriend. If I can’t handle this little thing, how can we make this relationship work?” They are learning to compromise ❤️

Well, so much for their classmates not knowing they were dating jhgkjhgkjgh

Conveniently, literally all of their friends were in the auditorium at this exact moment, somehow

Oh, are they going to retell this scene from the sound booth’s point of view?? PAT WHY WOULD YOU NOT TURN OFF YOUR MIC... WHERE EVEN IS IT YOUR TIDDIES ARE OUT

DID HE TURN THE MICS UP TOO WAI U VINDICTIVE SHIT

“If I were you, I would tell. You know why? Because you’re my best friend.” Wai’s kekkei genkai is guilt trips 

“It really hurts,” said Wai, as if it doesn’t also hurt to be outed in front of your entire faculty

HAHAHAHAH KORN’S ANTAGONISM LASTING ALL OF 30 SECONDS, THIS IS WHAT FRIENDSHIP IS ABOUT

“It’s me you’re talking to here. I can solve any problem for you.” Korn redemption arc for real

Pat and Pran seem both relieved to be able to show PDA and I am glad that Ink and Pa are included in the loop too

“Who knows? One day I might like girls.” “That’s good. It’s so gainful.” Ink is transparently very gay LMAO

“I don’t mind genders. I like them all.” YEAHHHH GO PAT BI ICON

“Can’t I hit on you?” DON’T PLAY ME LIKE THIS INK UR CRUSHING ME AND PA’S DREAMS

Rugby’s only purpose in this show is getting Pran’s friends back LOL

HAHAHAHAHA @ Korn’s ‘y’all fuckin’?’ pause and their “NOT YET”

This white(?) man pulling a gun on Wai is wholly a departure from the level of narrative chillness we’re been witnessing thus far, what a freakshow I hope this guy shoots himself in the dick

HE SHOT PAT IN THE STOMACH OH MY GOD??? 

PAT’S FRIENDS IMPLYING PAT’S NOT DOING WELL IS NOT A FUNNY JOKE EVEN IF IT ONLY GRAZED HIM THAT COULD TRAUMATIZE PRAN KGJHKGJHG

“We found a gun at the scene. We assume it belongs to you.” WHY WOULD YOU ASSUME IT BELONGS TO THE PERSON WHO WAS SHOT????? THERE ARE SO MANY WITNESSES

First of all, there definitely shouldn’t be a security camera where there are toilets. Second of all, since Wai WAS ALSO A WITNESS TO WHO POSSESSED THE GUN WOULDN’T THAT HAVE ALSO BEEN RELEVANT, SURVEILLANCE FOOTAGE ASIDE

“They said that should be enough to get him out of charges.” But they’re not going to charge the guy who SHOT him?????????

“Get well soon. Otherwise my friend will get himself a new lover.” I hope Wai and Pat continue to make fun of each other in a friendly way for the rest of their lives

“You don’t need to call us husband and wife.” Again, I am surprised that they would address this!!! But good!! It’s always kind of raised my hackles that so much Thai media assigns strict masc-femme gender roles to same gender relationships, and I have come to just expect it. BAD BUDDY SHOWING EVERYONE THEY CAN DO BETTER!!

Incredible that this whole day no one has told Pat’s parents he was shot

This comment was made precisely one minute too soon

Smart of Pat to lead with fact that Pran stopped him from getting arrested, very good boyfriend foundation-laying

This Architecture faculty expressing their support sequence is so cute also I cannot believe they just got engaged via fistbump. UR SO STUPID AND I LOVE U SO MUCH

OKAY, ALL THE FIGHTING AND TURMOIL IS WORTH IT FOR THE EMOTIONAL PAY OFF:

“She keeps smiling when messaging that person.” “That’s okay. You still have me.” What’s more delightful here, Ink and Pa’s flourishing romance or Korn and Wai’s flourishing friendship? Both are immaculate

I seriously have no idea who Chai is like does he work for Pran’s parents? Is he a relative? It’s thus far not been made clear 

Update from very shortly after: He works for them

Not knowing why the parents hate each other is leaving me in suspense. If this is a Rufus and Lily from Gossip Girl situation I will not be happy about it

Pa’s really got her hands full with sophomores who want to date her

“So your mom and my dad went to the same school?” The Rufus and Lily vibes increase with every passing minute

Pran 🤝 Pat 🤝 Pran’s Mum

Storing a keepsake object of Repressed Memories of Your Youth in your cupboard 

Pat immediately alluding to his high school teacher that he and Pran are dating because he loves to tell people they’re in love kjhghg

“The brother couldn’t make it, but the sister can.” If there’s any trope that is silly but fun it’s siblings having the same taste in crushes hahaha for a second I thought Pat was gonna be like, ‘damn, I was relying on you to give our parents grandkids’ LOL

Ink and Pa 😭😭😭 Get you a peer mentor who will become your gf

Ink 🤝 Pran

Developing feelings for someone in Pat’s family in high school and burying it deep inside until the other person confesses their feelings 

“Can’t you just call me big bro once?” Pat’s joking is relieving some of my tension in hoping that their parents do not share a lovechild

Pat’s dad believes in the old adage: When the going gets tough, assault your child’s boyfriend in a shopping mall

Pran I think it’s a little unreasonable to be made at Pat for his outburst the boyfriend was already out of the bag at that point 

“Do you want me to stay with you?” Chai is a nice man

The soundtrack they’re playing sounds like the Lion King when Mufasa dies this is rough stuff

“Is it even my job to be responsible for your feelings?” God, that hit me hard. No, no it is not, Pran

“Your dad stole my scholarship.” I mean that’s a dick move, but is it worth like twenty years of conflict?? You run a successful business now and could definitely go back and do a degree

“From now on, don’t tell your children to hate the people next door. Because the most disgusting person here is your father.” Idk, Dissaya, you’ve both struck Pran today sooooooo

“But he can’t fix his past, and I must be the one that takes it, right?” Every parent with unprocessed trauma should be forced to watch this episode in therapy

“A zero-waste village.” “Just the place for us.” (“Because our families are garbage,” they said, in the subtext)

“Being with you already feels like freedom.” V romantic also I’m glad they did not throw their sim cards away, that would be excessive

Uncle Tong is a welcome callback, finally an adult who’s understanding

It’s okay Pran and Pat, Junior can also cook better than I can lmao

“You made up with me then. Now it’s my turn, right?” I don’t think it’s unreasonable to not abandon ur hometown for a life by seaside without ur support network

The constant blurred unsponsored beer of this specific green brand makes me think they TRIED to get a beer sponsorship and failed LOL 

“But a gangster like you always butts in people’s business and helps them.” That’s a weird way to compliment someone

“Was I good?” They definitely fucked in the beach house hahaha good for them, but unfortunate for Tong. Perils of boarding a couple I guess

“You fight alongside me. That makes me very happy.” PAT ❤️❤️❤️

This serenade and montage was already very very sweet but it’s the cutaways to the other duos that got me

“You asked why I didn’t quit what I’m doing. What I do might not be able to change the whole world. But it surely changes my attitude towards this world.” TONGGGGGGGG ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

TONG’S SPEECH. PAT AND PRAN IMAGINING THEIR FAMILIES EMBRACING THEM AND THEIR LOVE. THE WHOLE MONTAGE OF THEIR ENTIRE LIVES TOGETHER. I’M UPSET. IT’S A VERY GOOD SHOW

FOUR YEARS LATER?????????????????????? HELLO???????? WILD THAT WHAT WE JUST WITNESSED WASN’T THE FINALE

“You even make a living out of the disaster you caused back then.” I am reeling. Seems like Pran and Pat broke up but Wai has remained besties and business partners with the Eng boys. I love that for him but oh my god 

“I need to go too. I’m picking up my sweetheart.” Wai and Korn have clearly moved on and found partners after uni but Pat seems firmly in Post Pran-dump Depression 

Shout-out to Pa and Ink for being the only couple in this show to stay together from university to working life. Bad Buddy said wlw will go the distance 

The Adult Life hair really does not suit Pran as much as it suits Pat

I feel like it IS a little funny for them to have passed four whole years and still be incredibly Not Over It hahahahah 

WAIT THEY’RE STILL TOGETHER?? JKHFJDHF WHY BE SO WISTFUL AND ANGSTY THEN??? UR 23 WHAT CAN UR PARENTS DO

Hahahah I was waiting for Wai’s reaction at the fake breakup and didn’t disappoint 

Also their parents 100% know! Four years? COME ON

What is perhaps funniest about Bad Buddy is how much it highlights how Sarawat and Tine from 2gether are just like. Batshit insane. Pran and Pat deal with everything so reasonably. They manage their conflicts immediately. They go long distance for a year!!! Sarawat and Tine spend 2 weeks apart and start crying to dolls and hallucinating each other. Don’t get me wrong, I love Sarawat and Tine with all of my heart but they are CRAZY and run with their emotions on 20,000% always. Imagine watching Romeo and Juliet and then watching Big Eden. That’s the contrast here

“I waited for a year. You served me only five minutes. Do you think that’s enough?” “Stop with the insult. I just got a little excited there.” I love that we’ve got to a place where we can make fun of Pat for coming too fast

Wai and Korn even own the bar together now #BusinessBesties LOL

“It’s like we bought this place to make amends.” Wai is right, having to deal with rowdy youth is his and Korn’s karmic retribution hahaha

“Ink, you seem to have lots of work.” “A lot, Papa.” Ink is very solid with the in-laws

“Just leave it to their generation.” Hahahaha Pat’s mum and dad acknowledging what terrible secret keepers they are

The single smile that Dissaya gives is 12 episodes of character growth

I love that the conclusion to this feud is slowly warming up to their sons’ happiness in each other and pretending not to notice they’ve been in love for five years 

“The show is just so good.” YEAH IT IS ❤️❤️❤️❤️

It’s great that Pat is still so competitive. Truly great rivals to lovers 

I am totally convinced this last scene, like the balcony scenes, was unscripted and the actors were allowed to do whatever they wanted and they decided to chase each other around the apartment shouting and jumping each other would be most in-character: 

[renaerys]

22. for reds 🤡

This is 100% not what you asked for (yet...👀), but I give you part 1 of what we're calling the Weird King AU. I'm turning this into a proper multi-chapter High School fic because I love you and I'd jump on any bandwagon for you.

xxx

Like most young, conventionally attractive Supervillains, Brick had made a bit of a habit of failing upwards. It was pretty easy in a town full of simpering morons content to project their own narrative assumptions onto him, and who was he to crush their dreams when they made his life a little easier?

For example, dating.

“You can tell me, you know.” His cute date, Tracy, sipped her milkshake across from him.

“Tell you what?”

She softened and reached her hand across the table. “Your tragic backstory. I’ll listen without judgment, I promise.”

Brick tried to think of something tragic, but it all seemed pretty underwhelming as far as Supervillain origin stories went. “You mean like how I was born in a toilet?”

She made an oh shape with her lips. “We all have those days where we feel like we were born in a toilet, Brick.”

He’d dated Tracy for three months before she broke up with him out of the blue in tears: sorry she couldn’t fix his baggage, she just wasn’t strong enough to handle all that tortured darkness, but she wished him nothing but health and happiness. Brick deleted her number from his phone and spent twenty whole minutes staring at the toilet in his bathroom, wondering what the lesson here was.

But everything changed when Mojo got out of prison and moved Brick and his brothers back to Townsville, where he enrolled them in the local high school alongside their former arch nemeses, the Powerpuff Girls.

Suddenly, everything Brick did pre-supposed ill intent. These people remembered him as the pest who had graffitied their local monuments and blown up their cars and endangered their children. They held no love for him, and at best they feared him. This was not Citiesville, where he’d been a tall, cold glass of Voss water in a sea of recycled Dasani.

He found himself thinking about his birthing toilet again as he stepped into the cafeteria alone and the conversation quieted down as his new classmates watched him from the safety of their tables. His next moves here were critical. He was no longer at the top of the food chain, but fear and mystery surrounding his origins and character gave him a certain power over his peers.

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of social suicide, I will fear no cringe,” he said to himself.

The jocks were out. Capable though he may be, Brick was not much of a team player unless there was a blood contract involved requiring his participation on pain of satanic torture. The drama kids were also a hard pass, not because he thought drama was lame, but because they had barely noticed him walk in, and Brick did not have the energy to deal with people more self-involved than himself. Some of the unaffiliated tables could be safe, but without a good understanding of the nuanced social dynamics in the high school, he could be heading toward irreversible doom, and that was a risk he was not willing to take.

He saw his salvation just ahead. It was the only option, all else being equal. In an environment where he couldn’t be certain of his baseline status and potential for upward mobility, there was greatness to be had only by association and certainty only in the devil he knew.

Brick helped himself to the empty seat directly across from Blossom Utonium to a chorus of gasps and staring.

Blossom did not startle like her table mates had. She watched him critically behind a head full of bangs as she balanced her soup spoon in her hand. “Really.”

Brick unwrapped the burrito he’d purchased in the lunch line and brandished it before him. “Really.”

He took a bite of the burrito. It was not hot enough. The two girls to Blossom’s left whispered to each other about that bad boy and he’s hot, though.

Blossom daintily spooned soup into her mouth without spilling a single drop as she continued to watch Brick for signs of his imminent dark side transformation.

The guy next to Brick was brave enough to ask him what his next class was. Brick had a mouth full of disappointing burrito, so he passed the guy the printout of his class schedule in lieu of answering.

“Wow, all APs, huh? Hey, we’re in U.S. History together next period, nice. I’m Mike Believe, by the way. Brick Jojo, right?”

Brick didn’t answer him immediately on account of the burrito currently occupying his mouth hole, and Mike took it the wrong way.

“Oh, yeah, we all know who you are. Blossom sort of filled us in.” He winced like he’d inadvertently revealed a terrible secret.

Brick swallowed his food and washed it down with a gulp of water. “Saves me some time.”

Mike looked super relieved. “For sure! Hey, I could lend you my notes if you want to catch up. Gershwin’s giving a quiz on the Progressive Era on Friday, and she’s a hard-ass who definitely won’t care that you just transferred…”

Brick chewed on his lunch as Mike continued to talk at him about classes and other vaguely helpful, albeit uninteresting, information. But Mike seemed normal enough, a little chatty but not in an overeager sort of way. Blossom was no longer clocking his every move and seemed to be absorbed in her friend’s latest swim team cheating scandal, until Brick reached for his water bottle and she suddenly laser-focused on his wandering hand.

Her keen attention to him was honestly flattering, if expected. It was in his nature to be noticed, and in this narrow respect she was no different from anyone else whose head he turned. If she chose to feed her interest with the flames of suspicion, then it was no difference to him.

But if she was anything like him—and on a chemical level she was probably the closest to him that a person could get—he suspected it took tremendous effort to hold her full and sustained attention. The world they inhabited was as vapid and mundane as the humans that surrounded them, and even the most gracious of gods grew bored of worship. Which explained all the smiting and fucking and generational curses upon entire households in everything from Greek mythology to the Old Testament.

Brick was pretty deep into a fantasy of Blossom going full Ixion and the Wheel on the swim team when Mike tapped his shoulder. “You ready to go?”

It took him a moment to realize the bell had rung and he had a class to get to—AP U.S. History with Mike, apparently. Brick gathered his tray and his bag and followed Mike. When he looked back at the table, Blossom was already gone.

xxx

That whole first week was painfully boring. No one bullied him, or pranked him, or picked a fight with him, of course. But no one really approached him, either. His brothers were more determined to make an effort. Boomer announced he was trying out for the soccer team because there was no rule saying a Super with extremely well documented ties to active criminals and the forces of Hell couldn’t kick a ball around a field. Butch had gotten himself invited to a midnight screening of Snakes on a Plane in some rich kid’s home movie theater, but only after that same kid had accidentally spilled milk on Butch and burst into tears in front of a cafeteria full of Juniors and Seniors. Brick declined the invitation Butch extended to him. He had that AP U.S. History exam to study for on Friday, anyway.

He shared all of his classes with Blossom. Even in the classes where her assigned seat was behind his and he couldn’t see her, he could feel her lobotomizing stare at the back of his head whenever she glanced up from her notebook. And while Mike’s notes were perfectly adequate and the friendly gesture counted for more than the content (a gesture Brick would not soon forget), there was a far more efficient way to accomplish his goal of murdering the class averages while also taking the edge off his loner doldrums.

“Can I borrow your class notes?”

Blossom rose from her seat and pulled her hair tie out to re-do her extremely long ponytail. She held the elastic between her teeth as she worked. Her teeth were very straight, he noticed. Some pretty nice girl-teeth, generally speaking.

“Which class?”

“All of them.”

He watched her wind the elastic around her hair with quick, adroit fingers. “That’s a lot of notes.”

“You’re the top of every class. No point in asking anyone else.”

She moved toward the hall. He followed her out. “Why would I help you?”

A legitimate question delivered without venom. Unlike her sister Buttercup, who’d “run into” Brick after school on Monday and told him to watch his back, Blossom didn’t have to do anything but maintain a general proximity to make her superiority complex known. Which was the kind of flex he could fuck with.

“Isn’t helping people sort of your mandate?”

They had arrived at her locker, which she opened with enough force to rattle the hinges. “I help the helpless. Are you helpless, Brick?”

Brick smiled at her baiting. Had she ever actually said his name at a normal volume before? It sounded good even in her baseline bitch timbre. “Critically helpless. I’m the new student who transferred in the middle of the semester, and you’re the only person who knows me.”

A couple other students clearly trying to get to the lockers Brick was blocking hovered just out of reach. They whispered to each other, but neither of them actually worked up the courage to ask Brick to move. He ignored them.

Blossom rummaged in her locker for the binder she would need for the next class. “Make friends.”

“Working on it.”

The locker door slammed and she faced him. There was something confrontational in the way she held herself before him that kicked him in the nuts back in time thirteen years to their more uncouth days when all he wanted to do was destroy her so he’d be the only one. Now they were older and wiser and he actually did need her notes to study, so destroying her was not high on his list of priorities.

“You want to be my friend.”

“We have so much in common.”

“So do lions and hyenas.”

“Both are apex predators, so.”

She took a step closer and peered up at him. Brick did not move, although he wondered what was so interesting about his face. She probably just thought he was hot. She was probably as bored as he was. She probably—

“You have lettuce in your teeth.”

Brick pulled back and covered his mouth on instinct. God fucking damnit.

Blossom was already walking away from him by the time he’d picked the food from his teeth. “I’ll expect my notes back in mint condition before first period tomorrow morning.”

Brick pressed a fist against the lockers and quietly fumed. “Dumbass…”

“Um, sorry, but do you mind…?”

The student who’d been waiting for her locker space to clear up had her palms up as if to assuage a feral stray. Brick pushed off the lockers, but his fist left a dent where he’d unleashed some of his impotent self-pity. He looked back at the girl, and she shook her head.

“It’s fine! It, uh, it happens sometimes.” She pointed a couple lockers down to Blossom’s, which was dinged up worse than the others.

Brick stared at Blossom’s locker, and then back at the girl. Her narrow, dark eyes were wide, but not out of fear. She was waiting for something, and like an idiot it took him a moment to catch up. “You’re trying to make me feel better about fucking up your locker.”

She laughed nervously. “I mean, it’s really fine! You just looked so miserable for a second there, and I just thought…”

Great, he was moping so hard he had an audience.

The five minute warning bell rang, and a flood of students rushed past them on their way to fourth period. Brick stepped aside so the girl could get to her locker.

“Hey, you’re the new guy, right?”

The new guy, yeah. How quaint. Except, she was waiting for a response, which wasn’t the absolute worst thing that had happened to him all week.

“Brick,” he said. But of course, she already knew that, and she was just being nice.

“I’m Kim. Kim Chan.”

“Okay.” He didn’t have anything else to say to her, so he decided to get his shit and get to his next class.

“Welcome back to Townsville, Brick.”

Brick shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked off. It didn’t occur to him until later that Kim was the first and only person who had properly welcomed him back home.

[junicai]

tackled.

| summary | Mark hasn’t been in a group without Aria before. He doesn’t know how he’s going to manage without her there.

| word count | 2.4k

| warnings | none

| era | circa. December 2018

n/a: to the anon who requested more superm stuff, i hope this is to ur liking~ a little bit of background before i start writing some actual scenarios for the team :)

Aria wasn’t quite sure how to function; or how to deal with the fact that she was sitting, legs crossed, back ram-rod straight, in one of the smaller conference rooms with Lee Sooman sitting across from her looking a world more comfortable. 

Taeyong on her left and Lucas on her right, Ten a seat down and Mark beyond that. The plastic seats were less than kind to her aching tailbone, but Aria was mildly (read: incredibly) more preoccupied with the thought that she was wearing a faded hoodie and black workout leggings that were old and worn, sitting in a conference room with Taemin, Baekhyun and Kai. 

She was pretty sure the day couldn’t be going much worse. That was until Sooman's voice snapped her from her inner turmoil and she looked up at the CEO, raising a bottle of water to her lips with a lightly quivering hand.

“Aria, you’ll be joining as their eighth and final member.”

Water rushed down the wrong way in her throat, the muscle spasming as Aria choked and banged a closed fist against her chest. Taeyong’s hand flew to rub circles in between her shoulder blades, patting gently as she heaved, trying to re-catch her breath.

She takes it back. It just got worse. 

“Sir?” Aria wheezed out, taking in a stuttered breath as she looked up from the table to meet the CEO’s eyes. 

“SuperM is a concept group designed to take those that excelled in their respective groups and use that as the foundation to create something bigger. You’ve all made a name for yourself; both within the group and individually.” Sooman took a breath, lifting his hands to drum his fingertips across the wooden table. The dark oak was glazed, and Aria belatedly realized that this conference room was so small as it was the CEO’s personal room. His name was imprinted on the front of the door, gold paint enhancing the grooves made. 

He continued talking, focusing his attention on each individual member from his seat, explaining their ‘roles’ so to speak. Aria caught small snippets, chest still rising a beat too quickly for it to be ignorable and her racing mind building up a cascade of thoughts that were rising up in tandem. 

Baekhyun you will be the leader - Taemin as - I think it’s important, no crucial that you remember - this is not a time for - you’ll understand my expectations in time - a common ground for those that - merging the eras -

Aria flinched violently when her name was called, head snapping away from where it was boring holes into the wall just over Taemin’s shoulder. She had yet to make eye contact with a single one of her seniors, having taken a single glance around the room upon arrival and dropped herself into a near 90 degree bow. 

“What with the incredibly - albeit unexpectedly - positive response that came with your inclusion in the various NCT units, myself and my team think it fitting that you’d belong in a group such as this one. Obviously your English speaking skills are a benefit, although I am not so sure that your accent will be as tolerable to the American media as Mark’s here would be. But I’m getting ahead of myself, we can circle back to that in due time.” Sooman leant back in his chair, resting his arms against his sides. 

He looked satisfied with how the meeting had gone - given that all but one member of the newly established team had signed their agreement into another contract, having handed out a thinly spaced document a few minutes prior. 

Aria sat back, pen cradled in her hand as Sooman shuffled through her contract in his hands, as he had refrained from giving hers out with the others. The CEO dismissed the other members, calling for Aria to remain seated for another few minutes. 

As the seven boys stood from their chairs with muffled screeches from the rubber capped legs on the chairs, Taeyong let a hand brush over Aria’s shoulder once. His face was pinched into something, lip caught between his teeth but Aria waved him off with a smile that didn’t lift her eyes. 

Exiting the room, Mark glanced back over his shoulder catching a glimpse of Sooman already leaning forward in his chair and Aria sitting up straight. Attentive. And then the door swung closed, clicking shut with a soft snick and Mark couldn’t see either of them anymore. 

It had been a week. 

Mark had meant to ask Aria what Sooman had wanted to discuss with her privately, he really had. But between schedules and commuting and a million other things that had appeared on his ‘To-Do’ list overnight; he hadn’t found the time.

Either he crept in to the dorms a few minutes prior to the clock striking twelve with barely enough energy to take a shower, or it was Aria slipping in on light feet, sliding in to her bedroom with a quiet goodnight. 

She had been disappearing more often; despite the fact that Mark was near certain that she didn’t have anymore schedules than the rest of them. Not even Donghyuck had been gone as often as her, and the two of them were prepping for NCT Dream’s next album together.

The thought settled bitterly in Mark’s stomach, so he brushed it aside. A million other thoughts filled the space left; equally as acidic. 

Had she signed in to the group? Had she declined? Was there something else going on that Sooman needed to talk to her about? Was she going solo? Was she leaving them? He knew that she’d been offered the opportunity before - it nearly decimated her and Donghyuck’s friendship - but had she accepted this time? Is that where she was going? Why hadn’t she talked to anyone else about it? Why hadn’t she talked to him? 

His head was full of these thoughts running on a cycle. He tried his best to shake them out. 

The dorms were never full anymore - someone was always gone doing one thing, or practicing another, or discussing something else. 

Mark thinks that this was his least hectic day in the last seven. But it was definitely the most stressful.

His hands were sweating and he rubbed his damp palms against the black material of his joggers, an anxious bounce in his knee. Lucas was leant against the wall beside him, tapping a finger against his thigh. 

Scanning around the room, Mark saw his seniors - his groupmates, as odd as it was to acknowledge - in various degrees of unrest. Taeyong appeared relatively calm, although Mark could recognize the tense set of his jawline and he made a note to remind the leader that he had to stop grinding his teeth unless he wanted to do some damage. 

Ten had his phone in his hand and an earbud in one of his ears, seemingly engrossed in watching a video. Mark could see the dangling headphone jack; unconnected to the phone. The video was paused. 

As for a first practice together, Mark assumed that this was not how it was meant to go. How were they meant to perform together if they couldn’t even start a simple conversation? 

None of the NCT boys had seen the choreography for their first single yet, Mark hadn’t gotten around to asking had his seniors managed to get a sneak peak or not. He didn’t think he ever would, at this rate. 

The practice room was quiet, filled with an unsettled air of anxiousness although that may have just been the younger boys projecting, as Taemin looked entirely unbothered, with Kai leaning over his shoulder. 

Baekhyun’s head snapped up as the door to the practice room was closed, shifting up from his seated position on the floor to greet their choreographer. 

“Ah, hello,” He began, nodding his head in a greeting bow.

“..Hi?” Came a smaller voice than he was expecting. 

“Riri?” Lucas said, pushing himself off the wall. “Hey, you alright?” 

Aria was shifting from her left foot to her right foot, hands twisting the fabric at the end of her hoodie. Taemin tilted his head, and noticed that it was the same hoodie she had been wearing the week previous. 

“What’cha doing here, Ari?” Ten asked, moving to stand closer to the girl. 

“I’m here for - for practice? Right?” Aria turned the questioning on him, glancing at Ten and then turning her gaze on Taeyong. “Right?” 

“For SuperM?” Mark was confused. 

“Yeah?”

Aria had her eyebrows pulled together neatly, staring at Mark, who’s face had crested through about eight emotions in the last second, finally settling on a rather odd mixture of relief and pure, childlike excitement. 

“Mark wha-” She cut herself off with a yelp, hands flying to grip Mark’s shoulders as he tackled her around her middle. “Mark!” 

The boy in question only squeezed her tighter, lifting her off the ground a little. Aria squirmed in his grip, but as soon as Lucas’ arms were added to the equation she went lax, knowing that her chances of escape had just dropped to zero. 

“Dude- oh my god,” Mark was laughing, a light breathy laugh. “Dude I thought you didn’t sign it? What was all the secrecy about?” 

“What... secrecy?” Aria wheezed out. “Mark I can’t breathe-”

“Oh, sorry sorry.” 

Aria was put back down on her feet, but Mark’s arms didn’t leave her middle, choosing instead to tug the girl into a hug. “You kept disappearing, I thought-”

Mark hissed in pain when Aria pinched his hip. “You’re such an idiot.”

“What?”

“You know you can talk to me?” 

His cheeks flushed pink. 

Luckily, Lucas saved him from the conversation, pulling Aria out from Mark’s arms and into his own. This hug was more violent, and Aria was lifted and swung around in a circle once, twice, before demanding to be put back down. 

“We’re in a group together!” Lucas was beaming down at her, and Aria couldn’t help but to grin back. “Yeah we are!”

“Group hug!” Ten yelled, and suddenly Aria found herself in a tangle of Mark and Taeyong and Lucas and Ten’s arms, the four boys hugging her tightly. 

Aria laughed, trying her level best to fit them all in her own hug. They stood there for a minute, arms entangled in a rather terrible mimicry of a knotted ball of yarn. 

“Ah hyung, they’re so cute.”

Taeyong coughed, and the five-person cuddle unraveled quickly. 

Aria spun around to see Taemin, Baekhyun and Kai all standing together on the opposite side of the room. Taemin had a fond look on his face, while Baekhyun had his tongue caught between his teeth to stave off a smile.

“Not to ruin the moment or anything, but does anyone know where our choreographer is?” Jongin peered down at his phone. “It’s been twenty minutes, are we in the right room?”

Aria cleared her throat.

“Uh, about that bit.”

Mark’s head snapped over so quickly he might have given himself whiplash. “Ari?”

“I might? Be your choreographer?” The statement came out more like a question, and Aria spread her hands out in front of her. “Believe me, I’m not quite sure how that one happened either, but if it’s going to be a problem I really have no issue with, like, not doing it? I know I’m the youngest and I don’t want to be rude or anything I-”

Mark tackled her in another hug. Aria was pretty sure her ribs were going to be bruised after this.

“Literally shut up.”

“But!”

“Shut up!” 

“You’ll do a great job, Aria.” Baekhyun smiled over at the younger girl. “Do you have anything prepped, or have you heard the song yet?”

Aria shuffled awkwardly. “I have something? It’s only a rough draft really, and obviously its subject to change because, well you’re all here and whatever suits you best is the best option so,” She took a breath. Taeyong slid over to put a hand on her back, but said nothing, still waiting for one of the older members to take the lead. 

“Can you show us? None of us have seen the demo yet, just Jongin.” Taemin grumbled, poking the boy in question in the stomach. Jongin flicked him back. 

“Uh, yeah? Yeah, I can do that.” 

“Wait wait, Ari. Is that what you were talking to Sooman about?” Mark caught her wrist to stop her from leaving the practice room. She had lost the hoodie a few hours ago, and her hair was pulled back into a sad looking ponytail. Tired and weary, all she wanted to do was take a hot shower and spend the next three hours with her face buried in her pillow. 

But Mark’s question made her stop. “Uh, yeah. Yeah he just wanted to talk to me about my, responsibilities in the group, so to speak.”

If Mark was a little less exhausted and a little more alert, he would have caught the odd phrasing, but he was a lot more exhausted and a lot less alert than on a regular day, so it flew right over his head. 

“Ari, that’s incredible. I’m so proud of you.” He went to pull her into another hug. 

“No! Ew get off what’s with you today! Why’re you so cuddly, get off get off you’re gross and sweaty.” She knocked her hands against his chest to try and get him to move away.

“I’m just proud of you~” He sang, swaying her back and forth. “Was gonna miss you if you didn’t sign with us. ‘Dunno what to do without you in my team.”

Aria’s protests died down slowly, and her fists stopped to rest on his chest. She snorted once, poking him in the chest. “Don’t lie, you just didn’t want to be the maknae, you can’t fool me.” 

“No~” Mark continued to whine. “Really, was gonna miss you.” 

“Okay, okay, you big baby. I’m not going anywhere - you’re going to have to try harder than that to get rid of me. Now let go, I want a shower.”

[nctsjiho]

Babysitting

warnings: none

era: a bit confusing since the first paragraph suggest that this is a throwback, but the main story happened back in 2016

❀ Ten wonders how he was going to survive “babysitting” one of the trainees who seemed to not like him at all

If they’d tell anyone that they had a rocky start to their relationship, nobody would believe Ten and JiHo. They definitely grew closer as time went on, but things weren’t always as bright and fun when they first got to know each other.

Ten couldn’t even pinpoint what exactly went wrong during their first meeting, but ever since they kind of just ignored each others presence or only exchanged a quick “hello” whenever someone else was near.

The fact that he was now tasked with “babysitting” JiHo while most of the other trainees and idols were doing activities annoyed him so much. Why out of all people had it to be him? Yes, he did say that he was going to be in the practise room for the rest of the day anyway, but was that really enough of a reason to leave the female trainee there with him?

He continued his usual warm up routine while stealing a glance at the girl. Jiho was sat in the corner of the room, her legs pushed up against her chest and her phone in hands. She hadn’t uttered a word since Doyoung dropped her off to go hang out with the Dreamies. “Why couldn’t you just go with Doyoung?” He thought to himself before looking at his reflection again.

Practising while Jiho just sat there saying nothing made Ten feel super uncomfortable. It just felt wrong being in the same room as a person for hours and not talking to them.

He sighed throwing the towel he used to wipe the sweat off his forehead to the side. “Are you not going to do anything?” He asked, an uninterested tone in his voice. The girl looked up at him for a second before shrugging and turning back to her phone.

The reaction caused Ten to roll his eyes. “You could at least talk or something.” He muttered in English and turned to grab his water bottle. The hour of dancing nonstop had dried out his throat. “You could at least talk in Thai if you don’t want me to understand you.”

Ten froze in place. It took a few seconds to comprehend what just happened. Maybe it was the girl’s French accent, or the fact that Ten didn’t know she could speak English, but it took a while for Jiho’s words to register in his head.

“You-” He turned around to see Jiho raise a brow at him, awaiting his next words. “I thought you were Korean?” The girl turned back to her phone, but hummed at his words. “Well, I’m not actually. Not a single drop of Korean blood in me.” She chuckled to herself. Once she didn’t hear a response she looked back up at the shocked boy. “Surprised? I’m actually from France. Half French, half Japanese.”

Ten didn’t know if he had to feel offended by the slightly cocky tone Jiho’s voice carried, or guilty because he not only assumed she was Korean without asking, but he also tried to talk behind her back thinking she couldn’t understand him.

Though, once he knew she was a foreigner just like him, something clicked in him and suddenly the dislike - or whatever you wanted to call it - towards the girl turned into curiosity. Maybe he should’ve listened to Doyoung when he said that Jiho was a mysterious but nice person. Though it made him wonder what made her be so cold towards him.

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have talked behind your back.” Jiho then stood up bowing a full 90 degrees. “No, I shouldn’t have been so arrogant. I’m sorry sunbaenim.” She apologised. Ten quickly ran up to the girl, pushing her shoulder up to stop her from bowing. “Please don’t do that, it makes me feel worse.” He said whilst biting his lip, at the sight Jiho let out a small giggle. “Cute.” He thought.

The silence that fell next was slightly awkward, but at least it wasn’t as tense and cold as it was before they started talking. Ten’s eyes darted around the room, trying to find something to talk about, but Jiho beat him to it. “You’re a really good dancer, I monitored ‘The 7th Sense’ a lot and I’m thinking about learning it for my next evaluation.” The light in Jiho’s eyes made Ten feel warm inside, he had no idea Jiho had been following his career and looking up to him.

He slightly stuttered taken aback by the compliment. “Thanks. I’ll look forward to seeing your version of it.” He tried to sound interested, he genuinely was, but for some reason his words came out sounding forced. A tight lipped smile formed on Jiho’s lips as she retreated to her earlier spot on the floor. Ten mentally face palmed, now sure that he made himself look like a cocky senior even though he only debuted earlier in the year and had no real schedules ever since.

Remaining in his position Ten thought about how to fix things. He didn’t want there to be so much tension between them if he wasn’t sure what initially created it anyway. “I’m sorry that we started off on the wrong foot, I don’t know what I did for you to not want to talk to me, but I sincerely apologise and let’s start from a clean slate. Okay?” Ten finally uttered.

At his words Jiho looked at him with a confused expression. “What you did? What? I thought I did something wrong. You always ignore me when we walk past each other, so I just took the hint and started ignoring you as well...”

The both of them stared at each other for a few moments trying to make sense of what they just told each other. “You didn’t do anything wrong, I just thought you didn’t like me.” Ten said while massaging his temple, still very confused. “Neither did you. I thought you didn’t like me.” Jiho pouted slightly.

Ten couldn’t help the bright smile on his lips from forming as he looked at how lost the girl in front of him looked. The few moments they talked just then already made him grow fond of her. Her small gestures and expressions being nothing but adorable to him. “Well, now that’s settled let’s forget about it. From now on we’ll stop ignoring each other and actually talk. Sounds good?” He held out his hand which Jiho quickly took. “Sounds perfect.” She smiled and shook his hand.

“Now that we’re here, do you want me to teach you the choreography to my song?” Jiho’s eyes lit up at the offer. “This is a special, one time offer. Learning the choreography from the actual artist.” Ten puffed out his chest acting very proud and arrogant, only to actually feel proud when Jiho laughed at his gestures.

“Does this guarantee me a perfect score at my evaluation?” Jiho asked with a small smirk. “Only if you do exactly as I teach you.” He winked and Jiho sent him a thumbs up.

“I guess you’re really not as bad as I expected.” They both thought.

[goddessofroyalty]

So I was volunteering at a Regency-era event and somehow the rules of etiquette inspired me to write this. Fuck it, at least I wrote a complete thing again.

Tags: omegaverse

Also, the reason why Shinra Senior isn’t letting Rufus talk to people he hasn’t been introduced to has nothing to do with Rufus being an omega and everything to do with Rufus having tried to stage a coup against his father once already.

“Cadet Strife,” Rufus Shinra says, surrounded by his Turks at the Vice President table of the Gala, and, by the looks of it six drinks in to the night.

“Yes Vice-President?” Cloud asks, once again cursing Zack for the fact the Shinra VP seems actually aware of his existence.

“Come over here,” Rufus says with a lazy wave. “I have something I want your opinion on.”

Reno is snickering about it. Which means there isn’t anything good in the situation. But what option does Cloud have? Tell the heir of the company that technically owns him that, no, he isn’t going to be humiliated for his entertainment tonight?

Cloud walks over and just hopes whatever game Rufus has in mind isn’t too public.

“What is it that you want my opinion on sir?” Hopefully if Cloud shows the appropriate respect Rufus will get bored and find someone else to torment for his entertainment.

“My father has told me that I am not to speak to anyone here unless I have been formally introduced to them by him first,” Rufus says. And Cloud just feels the warning sirens really start going off in his head. The only person it is a worse idea to disagree with than Rufus Shinra is his father – the President. “Now I think my father is being an outdated traditionalist about it, but Tseng here seems to think it is reasonable.”

The Turk’s name is joined with a playful bat that Cloud is pretty sure anyone else would die for trying. Perks of being Vice President he supposes.

“That isn’t what I said,” Tseng says. His expressional still controlled professionalism.

“True – but you did say that I shouldn’t be surprised, implying that it is an expected stipulation to give your adult omega child before allowing him to attend a company gala,” Rufus says. His annoyance about it very clear.

Tseng doesn’t react. Burt still somehow ends up in a staring match with Rufus.

Cloud seriously considers trying to slip away. But that likely would just further annoy Rufus.

Maybe he can signal to Zack on the other side of the room to come save him?

“What do you think Cadet Strife?” Rufus asks, so clearly hasn’t forgotten about Cloud in his glaring at the Turk.  

“I’m sorry sir?”

“About my father’s rule,” Rufus says, his tone condescending. Not that Cloud can do anything about it. “As a fellow omega you must have an opinion about it.”

Sure – Cloud thinks the rule is dumb and condescending as hell. Just as he thinks Rufus is currently well on his way to being drunk and likely will have to be escorted home by his Turks before he makes the scene he clearly wants to.

Cloud is just not so stupid as to say any of that.

Especially with Reno looking like a Nibel wolf with a rabbit in its sight.

Cloud really could go for a Zack rescue right now.

Hell, he’d take Commander Rhapsodos deciding to just burn the building with all of them inside over answering.

Rufus looks expectant.

Reno has apparently convinced Rude to join the audience.

“I think,” Cloud says, very aware of it all, “that I don’t know the full situation.”

There’s a moment of silence as if they expect him to continue. But Cloud is sticking to the advice he’d been given about dealing with Shinra higher ups on his first day with the company – Shut your mouth as much as they will let you get away with.

Reno gives a bark of a laugh when they apparently realize that it is Cloud’s full answer.

“That is a smart response,” Rufus says and Cloud takes a breathe of relief. “But not what I asked. Would you be offended if you had to live under such stipulation? I mean, if you were someone important and not just a SOLDIER hopeful of course.”

Damn it. Looks like tonight is the night Cloud dies.

Benn okay while it lasted he guesses.

“Cloud! What are you still doing over here?”

Thank all the divine in the world for Zack Fair.

Cloud resists the urge to cower behind Zack. Tries to look annoyed at the arm around his shoulder instead of relieved.

“I was merely asking his opinion on something First Class SOLIDER Fair,” Rufus says.

“Yeah? What about?” Zack asks with the tilt of his head he gets.

“Nothing important,” Rufus says with a wave. And just like that Reno has lost interest, asking Rude if he wants another drink. Tseng is still listening but Cloud thinks also looks slightly relieve but he might just be projecting. “Enjoy the rest of your evening Cadet Strife.”

“You too sir.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Of something beautiful, but annihilating🚬2

Warnings: nonconsensual sex, violence and abuse, mentions of miscarriage, mentions of death [other warning to be added throughout series]

This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader’s husband brings home an unexpected houseguest.

Note: Still working a lot but here’s another chapter. I work gaming and the console launches are just killing me for real. Why do (some) gamers have to be idiots?

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You awoke stiff and cold. Your legs were tucked up under your nightgown as the early spring turned frigid in the night and your muscles ached as you fell onto your back. You were still young but you didn’t feel it. The deep snores still rose from the bed as you sat up and the soft light of dawn broke through the curtains.

You suspected that Roy would be just as unpleasant once it came time to rouse him. You got to your feet with a grumble and rubbed your tender stomach. You could feel the bruise and winced as you went to the closet to gather your clothes for the day. The usual; a plain blouse and dull skirt. Then you took a pair of old nylons, some underwear and your brassiere from the chest of drawers.

You wrapped yourself in a robe and crossed to the washroom to quickly clean yourself up before you dressed. You stared in the mirror, your eyes puffy with fatigue. You sighed and dumped your robe and nightgown in the bedroom before you continued on downstairs.

If there was anything that would placate your husband, it was food. Since your wedding day, he had put on quite a few pounds, not that he had ever been particularly slim. He had also aged more than three years of your union, though he was ten years your senior already. Well, your father and mother had about the same difference between them; it was far from unusual.

You took out your iron pan and placed it on the stove, a relic of the Depression era but still able to catch a flame. Your father was always proud of his old appliances. Before you were born and in the early years of your life, he’d worked hard to build not only the farmhouse but a home for his young family. Those years before the war had remained his most precious until the end.

You took out the tray of eggs and the small sausages bartered at a discount from the butcher. You hated to think of replacing the puttering fridge but you doubted it would hold up another couple decades. That in itself would be a battle with Roy. He worked hard for his money. It was difficult enough to negotiate a pair of nylons without holes from the terse man you called your husband.

You were startled as you heard a footboard whine. You turned and accidentally cracked an egg onto the floor as you did. Arvin was dressed in jeans and a plain tee. His overalls were slung over his arm as he entered.

“You’re up already?” You asked as you bent to clean up your mess. “Hope it’s not ‘cause of me.”

“I’ve always been an early riser,” he assured you, “Need any help with that?”

“No, no,” you stood with the egg and shell in your hand, “I think I can manage.” You went to the bin and dumped your handful. “You drink coffee? Orange juice?”

“I wouldn’t mind some milk, if it isn’t too much a bother,” he smiled. “But I can fetch it myself.”

“You don’t have to--”

“You keep saying that. I respect that this is your house, ma’am, and you’re used to doing all the upkeep but I don’t mind at all.”

You pursed your lips and nodded. You wiped your hand on a dish cloth and went back to adding eggs to the mixing bowl. You listened to his footsteps as they continued onto the dining room and he returned to search for a glass among the cupboards.

“Here,” you reached up and opened the cabinet, “Milk’s on the middle shelf in the fridge.”

He neared and grabbed a tall glass from the rows. He was awfully close as he did. He set the glass down on the counter and went to the fridge. You listened as he struggled with the handle.

“You gotta wiggle it. Don’t be afraid to put some muscle into it.” You chuckled.

The door popped open and you heard him grunt. You whisked up the eggs as he approached with the milk jug and filled his glass. He paused as he watched you work. A long silence rose between you, interrupted only by the clink of the whisk on the bowl.

“You got any laundry?” You asked suddenly. “I can manage another load today.”

“If it’s not too much,” he lifted the jug and slowly backed away, “The laundromat isn’t much for efficiency. Sometimes I think my shirts come out more stained than before.”

You listened as he put the jug away and took his glass from beside you. You felt his lingering gaze before he left you but ignored it as your tendency to overthink. He was a kind, young man and you had grown unused to that. 

You loved Roy, tried to at least, and you reminded yourself that he hadn’t always been bad. You hoped that he could be good again. Perhaps Arvin could help with that.

You moved stiffly around the stove. Your muscles strained more with each stretch of your arm or bend of your leg. The floor never left you in very good shape and your apron reminded you of the bruise that deepened along your torso.

When the eggs were fluffy and the sausage browned, you climbed the stairs to wake your husband. You stayed in the doorway as you called to him. It was best not to get close when he was hungover. 

He grumbled and threw a pillow. When you reminded him he would be late to work, he lobbed the lamp. It landed a good foot from you but still caused a thunderous thump on the floor before the bulb shattered.

You left him. He would rouse himself and be too late to bother much with you. He would also have an audience to keep him in line.

You went back downstairs and plated the food; you covered Roy’s before you laid it out on the table along with your own and Arvin’s. You sat across from your houseguest as he greedily eyed his breakfast.

“What was that?” He asked as his brown eyes flicked up to the ceiling.

“Silly me,” you twirled your fork nervously, “I tripped over the cord of the lamp and brought the whole thing down.”

Arvin nodded and his cheek twitched. He said nothing as he cut into a sausage and you pushed around your eggs without eating. Your appetite was soured by memories of the previous night. If fate and alcohol favoured you, Roy would not recall it so well.

“Did you sleep well?” You asked suddenly as you tried to distract yourself. “I know the attic gets a bit gusty, walls aren’t very thick and that couch is old…”

“I slept finer than I have in months,” he replied, “Thank you.”

“You’ve been down at the motel, Roy said. You new in town?”

“Was meaning to just pass through,” he swallowed, “But a few odd jobs turned into a full gig down at the garage. I used to fiddle around with my aunt’s truck when I was a kid and… guess I figured a few things out.”

“Oh? And where’s home? Is that where you were headed?”

“Leavin’, actually. Sometimes you just outgrow where you’re from.” He said wistfully, “Life shakes you awake and says ‘go or die’ and you’re too restless to wait around for the inevitable.”

Your mouth fell open. His face had fallen, a lifetime worth of worries and tragedies set in his thin lips and squared his jaw. He looked through you at the past that had chased him all the way to your doorstep. The naive boy fractured before you to the frightened young man. And then, he was gone.

He smiled and was once more firmly sat in the present.

“I know what you mean.” You said quietly.

“So…” He set his fork down, “You from here then?”

“Daddy’s house. Never left it.” You confessed, “Never had the courage to stop waiting, I suppose.”

“You got lots of time for that,” Arvin said, “You know, when life’s seemed to slow down, it starts back up all at once.”

You rubbed your fingertips along the tablecloth. You looked at your plate, your food barely touched.

“You okay? You’re not eating.”

“I’m fine,” you lied, “I didn’t sleep too much…. there’s this shutter that just knocks against the house when it’s windy, you know?”

He leaned back and considered you. He grabbed his glass of milk and drained it.

“So, how long have you and Roy… been married?” Arvin asked.

You heard the stairs creak and stiffened in your seat. You tapped your fork on the lip of the plate and cleared your throat.

“Three years,” you said as Roy’s grumbles grew louder. 

“Oh,” Arvin glanced over as Roy stumbled in and caught himself on a chair. You stood and uncovered his plate as he sat. He waved you away groggily and swiped up his fork. “A long time and not very long at all, then.”

“Mhmm,” you sat and watched Roy nervously. He said nothing as he shoved a whole sausage in his mouth and groaned. 

“Coffee,” he choked out.

You diligently went to the task of pouring him a mug and returned as Arvin watched him with a placid awareness. You set down the cup and Roy emptied it just as fast as it appeared.

“Too much beer, huh?” Arvin chuckled.

Roy tilted his head and gulped down his mouthful. “Maybe you’ll join me tonight,” your husband challenged. “Boy your size, one bottle’ll have you on your ass.”

“Probably,” Arvin said coolly. “Maybe I’m better stickin’ to water.”

You sat gingerly and looked between the two men. You realised how easily Arvin had distracted Roy. How he kept the temperamental man from his usual morning rage with a few words. You wondered if he had dealt with men like Roy before. Or maybe he had no idea what he was doing at all.

“You want me to drive today?” Arvin ventured, “You can close your eyes on the way.”

“Probably best you do,” Roy smacked his lips, “Don’t know I’ll be very useful at the garage.”

“Ah, just keep your head under that old Chevrolet and no one can tell you’re napping,” Arvin laughed at his own joke. “I won’t tell.”

🚬

You filled your day as any. Your chores kept you busy; laundry, sweeping, dusting, prepping dinner for the return of your husband and the houseguest you kept having to remind yourself of.

You made certain to fold Arvin’s clothes and stack them neatly in a basket for him. He didn’t have much; a few pairs of jeans, some tee shirts, two sweaters, and a denim jacket. You would search through your father’s stuff and see if there was anything worth salvaging.

When the old truck rumbled in front of the house, you were shoving a glazed ham into the oven. You wiped your hands on your apron and strode through to peek through the window. Arvin was quicker than Roy, smaller, younger. Your husband stomped across the gravel as the other man kept a deliberately slow pace behind him.

You opened the door to greet them as they neared the porch.

“How was your day?” You asked as you held open the door.

“A day that calls for a beer,” Roy snarled as he brushed past you. You couldn’t remember when he’d stopped kissing you; sometimes, you were certain you’d imagined he ever had. 

“It was good,” Arvin said softly as he smiled at you. Roy ambled into the front room and fell onto the sofa. “How was yours, ma’am?”

“Well enough,” you replied pensively as you watched your husband, “You want a beer too?”

“No, it’s still a bit early… Actually, I’ll get his beer.” Arvin said, “Why don’t you take a break?”

“She can do it herself,” Roy growled. “What else she gonna do around here?”

“I’m goin’ that way anyhow.” Arvin said. “Think I’ll get myself some water.”

“She’s my wife. She can serve me. Well, you would think she could.”

“Please,” you looked to Arvin pleadingly, “Just sit down.”

He stared at you and nodded slowly. His arm jerked as if he was going to touch your elbow but he backed away and turned to drag his feet into the front room.

“I have some Coke?” You offered, “If you prefer that.”

“Water,” Arvin said dully, “Thank you.” 

You slowly retreated but didn’t miss the way Arvin glared at Roy. He sat in the armchair and bit his thumb as he watched the other man. You spun before you could overthink it and scurried into the kitchen. You grabbed a bottle from the fridge and poured a glass of water. You hurried back to offer the refreshments and rung your hands as you hovered in the doorway.

“Your laundry’s on the landing,” you said meekly, “And Roy, I fixed the lamp.”

Roy merely belched as Arvin lifted his chin and sighed.

“Thank you,” Arvin uttered and set aside his glass, “Show me where that bed is and I’ll move it after dinner.”

“I--” You hesitated and looked at Roy fearfully. He was entirely unconcerned with anything but his beer. “Sure.”

Arvin stood and you led him to the stairway. He followed you up and bent to lift the basket from the landing. You turned to him and he was quick to take the clothes from you.

“I didn’t want to go up there without you knowin’,” you said, “Since it’s your space now.”

“I appreciate all you’ve done.” He hugged the basket. He pressed his lips together and peered back down the stairs. “Are you alright?”

You frowned as he looked at you again. You turned your hands out and shrugged. 

“I’m just fine.” You lied.

He squinted then his eyes fell to the clothes. “Well, you let me know if you need help. With anything.” He slowly edged away from you, “I might be payin’ Roy but I won’t be living on your hard work, ma’am.”

“I-- It’s my job to--”

“It’s his job to love you, with all due respect,” Arvin set down the basket and grabbed the cord of the attic hatch, “Ain’t no work hard enough at the garage that he can’t do that.” The stairs slid down and he picked up the basket again. He placed a foot on the bottom of the latter as he cradled the laundry in one arm. “I’ll be down for dinner.”

🚬

Several days passed with little change. Arvin barely seemed to affect things around the old farmhouse; he kept to himself mostly but helped where he could. Roy didn’t change either. His moods, his brutality, his demands. As you always had, you distracted yourself with your chores.

On Saturday, Roy announced that he was going fishing. Arvin refused an invitation and it didn’t seem to bother your husband. It did, however, make you wonder. Most men in the area were eager to be away from the homestead with a rod or rifle in hand. Well, it didn’t seem like your houseguest was most men.

You bid Roy goodbye. He was in a happier mood and let you kiss his cheek as he packed up his bait box. When he was gone, you went about your usual. You would sweep and dust the entire house before you started lunch; a small one as Roy took his with him.

When you got to the dining room, Arvin was at the table. He had a small, leather-bound notebook before him as he scribbled in it with a stubby pencil. He smiled as you hit the doorframe with the broom and apologized under your breath. He went back to his work and you went about your own, quietly, carefully.

As you bent to sweep up the dirt into the pan, you looked at him. His reddish-brown hair hung forward, the strands dangled along his nose. You stood and neared the table.

“I don’t know how you see anything,” you remarked.

He lifted his head and his hair tickled his cheeks. He chuckled and closed the notebook around the pencil.

“Guess I’m just used to it,” he said, “Do you ever sit down? Don’t think I could run around like you in those heels?”

You glanced down at your kitten heels. Not very high or fancy. You gripped the broom and leaned on it.

“I just think my feet are naturally curved now,” you kidded. “Sorry, if I interrupted you.”

“No, no, you’re right. I need a haircut,” he pushed his hair back and stretched as he bent his arms behind his head. “Been a while.”

There was silence between you. You weren’t sure why you’d broken it in the first place. Usually, you wouldn’t dare bother Roy. He always had the first word. And the last.

“I cut Roy’s hair. I could do yours.” You were shocked at your own words and snapped your mouth shut bashfully. “Or you could go down to Hannon’s and get him to give you proper trim. I’m just… offerin’.”

“Really?” He sat up, “If you wouldn’t mind. I’m tryna save my money for a car of my own right now. I’ll pay in labour? Got this old batter recipe I learned as a kid. Roy brings back some good fish and we’ll have some filets.”

“You don’t--” You voice died as he gave you that look. How many times had you said those words? ‘You don’t have to do that.’ You took a breath. “Bring a chair in the kitchen and I’ll get the scissors.”

You went to the kitchen and dumped the dustpan. You leaned the broom against the wall and searched for the scissors in the second drawer. You heard Arvin behind you as you took a dish cloth and turned to him. He placed the chair in the middle of the floor and sat.

You tucked the scissors into your apron along with the comb you kept with the old silver shears. You neared him and held up the cloth. “I’m just gonna tuck this into your shirt to catch the hair.”

“That’s fine,” he smiled at you as you bent to wrap the dish cloth around his neck and tucked it into his collar carefully. Your fingers grazed his neck and you saw him tense.

You backed up and took out the comb. 

“Where do you usually part it?”

“I usually just comb it back but then it just kinda… falls,” he snorted bashfully. “So, just wherever.”

You rounded him and combed his hair back before parting it along the left side. It split naturally from his crown and you did your best to be precise. You pulled his hair up with the teeth of the comb and began to cut away the length. The chopped ends fell over the towel and the shoulders of his tee. 

As you came around the front, he watched you with his deep brown eyes. You tried not to fidget against his intent gaze.

“Close your eyes,” you said and he seemed reluctant to do so. You began to snip as you let the hair hang to see the length and lifted it again to cut away more. 

“So, you got any records for the player?” He asked. The question surprised you but eased you.

“My daddy loved Sinatra and Crosby.” You said. “But I don’t suppose many listen to that anymore.”

“Well, some,” he said, “You ever listen to Ray Charles? I was down at the general store and they… they were selling his album at discount.”

“Oh?” You leaned closer as you softened the blunt ends of his hair, “I think… on the radio. Sometimes, I turn it on when Roy’s workin’ but I always make sure to turn it back to his station before he gets home or he--”

You stopped yourself and focused on your task. You didn’t want to mangle his hair. He had such nice hair. Soft and thick.

“Or he what?” Arvin opened his right eye.

“Or, you know… he just gets real upset. The dial on that old thing is so fussy,” you moved around him so the heat receded from your cheeks. “Just don’t want him breakin’ it.”

“You think he’d break it? Over that?” Arvin asked gently.

You chewed the inside of your lip. “No,” you said after a pause, “No, Roy can be grumpy but he wouldn’t…” You sniffed and combed his hair, “Maybe we can dig out some of my daddy’s records when I’m done.”

“Maybe,” he said evenly as he tapped his fingers along his thigh. “A little music might brighten this place up.”