#and realizing that there's so much about the system that we DO NOT KNOW ABOUT

[housemdork]

house md rewatch: 2x16, "safe"

voluntarily vs. involuntary confinement, plus wilson's realization that he does this shit to himself.

that may be my favorite shot in the whole show, btw. somebody who's in film studies should explain why i like it so much because even i'm not sure.

2x16 is no "clueless," but i still enjoy it. it's also another installment in this relentless run of Shock Value Patient Plots. above all else, it's the precursor to "all in." i don't have as much to say about it as i do the surrounding episodes, but i like what it says about wilson's character growth from here on out (nobody is surprised lol).

this leg of wilson's stay with house is devoted to one thing - forcing wilson to confront himself. even before he finds out that house deleted the voicemails about the apartment he applied for, it's clear that he feels that the walls are closing in around him. house is so outlandish about the shit he pulls that viewers share in wilson's shock and horror.

like how could house make him wait outside for hours? skimp on all of his chores? try to make him pee in his sleep? continue to eat all his food because he can't be bothered to prep anything beforehand?...

...until we remember that he could just leave. in reality, house is pushing wilson to the brink to show him how he creates his own misery. he also forces reflection upon wilson by calling out just why he's putting up with all of house's bullshit: "you're not going anywhere. you're gonna sit on my couch and depress us both because you can't admit that it's over with your wife...as long as you're here, it's just a fight."

very poignant, greg. house denies that this is "therapy," but their experience living together isn't Not like therapy. it exposes wilson. he voluntarily does the dishes and picks up after house because it's easier in the moment than picking a fight. but, long term, this breeds the exact resentment that ends wilson's relationships. sam even attests to as much in season 7.

house's accusation of misery is even funnier because wilson relentlessly accuses house of relying on his own misery to maintain the status quo; his dependence on misery/sameness, in wilson's diagnosis, is what drove that final wedge between house and stacy. takes one to know one, i guess. misery has become their great equalizer! surely this won't have larger narrative implications!

this all contrasts well with the patient plot - melinda, having received a heart transplant six months ago, is kept secluded from the "real world" because her mother is afraid of her getting sick because of an compromised immune system.

melinda's seclusion prohibits from seeking out relationships romantic or otherwise. melinda is constantly seeking out new experiences because she may only have 5-10 years left (i will not bring up the series finale...). wilson, meanwhile, willingly keeps himself from reality; the sickness is of his own making*. as stated earlier, house forces him to confront this.

my favorite (and everyone's favorite) moment is, ofc, when house's cane collapses. it cuts a bizarre feeling in the audience at first - house fucking with wilson's materially is different than wilson potentially injuring his disabled friend, yes? it's not funny at first. we don't have permission to laugh, especially based on house's initial expression:

this is the same face he makes when truly horrific things happen lol.

but the following exchange reaffirms 3 things: this is funny, a built-in component of their relationship; wilson's sense of self has returned; house's autonomy over the very narrative of house md - follow me on that last one.

first, wilson reflects his own emotional feelings of immobility by taking away house's physical mobility, something only wilson could ever get away, exemplified by how proud house looks after the fact. this is another great equalizing moment.

it's not just for dramatic effect that wilson leaves house behind, either. his absence highlights wilson's subtle benevolence for house, that which we take for granted sometimes because house takes it for granted. it's been written about before, but wilson always keeps pace with house. whereas the ducklings are usually spread out behind him, even racing to keep up, from day 1, we see house and wilson walking in time. that makes this prank all the more potent, while also confirming that wilson is ready to leave house's apartment ("at some point").

wilson's "at some point" cracks me up because he's like a baby bird being slowly let back out into the world. just say that you kinda like the college dorm of it all with house, why don't you? who else are you gonna have this synchronicity with?

sit closer, house. you can't.

but re: house's autonomy, i like this scene and how house gives us permission to laugh because it allows him to dictate how his disability is treated. in a narrative that always showcases his pain being ignored, downplayed, or repressed, he's able to impart his own feelings about it to the audience. i think there's some agency in that. if they'd just cut to him laughing right away, it wouldn't hit as hard.

now, finally something NOT to do with house and wilson! i wanted to mention foreman's attachment to melinda. he's immediately involved in melinda's case, even getting into it with her mom after we learn just how overprotective she is. i think this narrative choice alludes more to future characterization than it does confirm anything outright. we'll learn more about his family life soon enough. my stomach drops just to think about it.

but! i have to emphasize how his story/experience is repeatedly snuffed out by the parents and house. i think this instance is about more than the racist joke house makes at the whiteboard or, rather, that joke means more than casual, edgy 2000s racism. the whiteboard is their control center, from which foreman is barred in 2x16, and foreman clearly has a personal story that he wants to share to melinda to relate to her, but he can never get the words out. he's interrupted every time.

and while he surrenders to house at the last moment about the tick, if not for this scene between melinda and foreman, they never would have put the pieces together. foreman being allowed to express vulnerability and seeking out space with the patient are both things house cannot/would not do, yet they prove integral to saving melinda's life. that they happen in private shows how unseen foreman's work often goes, how he is taken for granted at most every turn.

lastly, i'm not gonna mention house and foreman in the elevator with melinda. we've all seen it. let's just be glad that he found the tick in time, and let's not be surprised that wilson is the one who gave him the out.

*AND YET. if we borrow from my 2x14 argument that the diseased heart symbolically represented wilson's superimposed heterosexuality, melinda's heart transplant that will eventually kill her is...pretty exciting stuff...

[mercurialfeet]

I recently finished Gideon the Ninth and almost immediately started on Harrow (put it on hold at the library and resigned myself to months of waiting, then saw it in a bookstore the very next day and gave in to temptation) and I'm being struck yet again by how much a narrator, or just a single character's presence in general, can change the tone of a story.

I'm only eight chapters into Harrow and it's slow going because of this, but it's retroactively giving me a lot of thoughts about Gideon. The first book is also gory, scary, sad, and confusing, but Gideon's humor keeps the tone from dwelling on that too deeply, and makes the moments of complete seriousness stand out more by comparison. (Which, judging from what I've seen of the fandom, is one of the main appeals of the book: the contrast between the seriousness of the setting and of the role Gideon and Harrow play, and the levity with which Gideon approaches them.) And the way she bounces off the other characters brings out elements of humor from them that we would not otherwise have seen, either meeting her where she's at or serving as a "straight man" for her to poke at. It's not quite as strong a genre shift as, for example, the presence of Murderbot in All Systems Red (which would have a classic sci-fi horror setup if Murderbot was not (1) present to save the day, and (2) narrating sarcastically). But it's still noticeable, especially when going directly from Gideon to its sequel.

In the interest of keeping the Harrow-reading experience unspoiled for new readers and preventing this post from consuming anyone's dash, I'm putting my speculations from the first eight chapters of Harrow under a readmore. I already know that any thoughts I may express about Harrow now put me in danger of hat-eating later, but hat-eating can be an amusing experience.

I miss Gideon so much, man. I had the knowledge that she was going to die at the end in the back of my head already, but I don't think I actually believed it until it happened, and I definitely did not expect... whatever Harrow is currently doing. Chapter 3 of Harrow destroyed me a bit, because Harrow's childhood was already a miserable experience and imagining it without Gideon is like staring into a pit. (It also hit me again that Harrow is seventeen and I have just enough life experience now to sit and stare at the wall about that. It's not even a "she should have been at the club" situation, it's more "she should have been at the mall".)

I'm currently comforting myself by thinking of Harrow the Ninth as a puzzle (this led me to notice the changing chapter header skulls for the first time, which led to some interesting realizations about Gideon as well). Harrow's letters to herself deeply intrigue me; there's a similar plot element in A Face Like Glass by Frances Hardinge, but it involves a minor character and is not especially plot relevant. I think it's interesting that Ianthe is so closely wrapped up in this - to be honest I didn't really care about Ianthe in Gideon, but now she knows the truth (or at least some of the truth?) of what's going on with Harrow when Harrow doesn't, and that makes her 10x more fascinating.

I also find it intriguing that Harrow doesn't remember interacting with Camilla; if the 3rd person chapters are an indication of what 2nd-person-Harrow remembers of Gideon's plot, I guess maybe she wouldn't have cause to interact with most of the other necromancers and cavaliers without Gideon? The main strength of Gideon's presence early on was that she actually got to know their fellows, and left to her own devices Harrow would likely have continued to do everything on her own until it was physically impossible.

Of course the most interesting letter title is To open if your eyes change. Harrow's eyes now are just black, which she believes to be Harrow black + Ortus black. If her eyes changed, would they change to black and gold? Is Gideon in there, just suppressed somehow? What would it mean if her eyes did change?

My current hypothesis is that the 2nd person narration is actually from Gideon's perspective. Most of my reason for believing this is for meta reasons (2nd person narration in prose is typically only used for very specific purposes, and one of those purposes is when there's another character who is divorced from their own identity but is strongly tied to you). But I'm perhaps overly fixated on the line "...you didn't know the exact technical word. It was a pommel though" from Chapter 6. If there's been any other hints in this direction, I missed them, but this is an example of Harrow not having information that the narration does, and that Gideon would. I'm still not sure how that would play out in practice, given that Gideon as an independent entity is presumably still dead, it's unclear how conscious the cavalier typically is within a new-formed Lyctor (immediately afterwards Harrow heard Gideon's voice, but even Gideon seemed to think she was a hallucination and she faded pretty quickly), and I have absolutely no idea what Harrow did to construct this alternate memory to begin with. But it gives me hope that we haven't seen the last of Gideon, and I need all the hope I can get right now.

now for some random disconnected thoughts:

Harrow kissing Ianthe may be the first kiss she remembers ever experiencing. That sucks.

In the epilogue of Gideon, Harrow refers to Gideon Nav as her cavalier when talking to the Emperor, and he is not surprised by this. However, in Chapter 2 of Harrow, the Emperor seems to believe that Ortus Nigenad was Harrow's cavalier, unless I'm seriously misinterpreting his dialogue. Does he know about whatever it is Harrow and Ianthe did? Does "Ortus Nigenad did not die for nothing" have a different meaning?

Something else that intrigues me is "ORTUS NIGENAD" in Parodos. In the dramatis personae, there's another Lyctor, apparently alive, listed as ORTUS, whose cavalier was Pyrrha. Are these two facts connected? My first hypothesis was that Ortus in Parodos had actually suggested that Harrow take Gideon as her cavalier, but that the memory had been altered when Harrow did whatever-it-was. But that doesn't explain ORTUS in the dramatis personae. This might be my soonest hat-eating moment, since I suspect we'll be meeting the other Lyctors in Chapter 9 now that we've survived the river of ghosts.

The false memories/alternate timeline also involve Teacher being a lot more open about what's actually going on than he was in Gideon. He also hands out the first key to the cavaliers instead of just the empty ring. Is this just dream logic "skipping ahead" because Harrow already knew these things when constructing the memories?

Also in this scene, Teacher mentions ten disciples (which I suppose would be five Lyctors?) rather than sixteen -> eight. Based on the dramatis personae, there are only five living Lyctors (three remaining of the original eight, plus Ianthe and Harrow). Is that what Harrow's new memory is based on?

Anyway as you can see I'm going insane about this tune in later for more of me losing my mind

[artbyblastweave]

I've been thinking about Garth Ennis' "Of thee I Sing" and it's read on Superman, and wondering if Homelander is an inverse of that. Mostly because of curious of whether Homelander is a commentary on Superman specifically, or if he is a commentary on Superheroes as a whole and the similarities to Superman are just a consequence of Superman's monumental influence on the genre

"The Opposite of Superman in "Of Thee I Sing" isn't a bad read.

A lot of Garth Ennis's written oeuvre concerns, in some way or another, the impossibility of truly living up to the narratives around which we build meaning in our lives. Preacher, when it isn't a comic about Literally Killing God, rapidly oscillates between a sincere love of the mythology of the Cowboy and The American Dream and an acute awareness of the incredible violence that propelled both of those things, and Superman's crisis in issue 34 of Hitman has to do with the realization that his own infallibility as a hero is becoming part of that same bogus tapestry- how, when he fails to save someone who knows that he's trying to, that functionally constitutes their entire worldview being shattered just before they're killed horribly. To which, at least in the 90s, Ennis's synthesis-response to this tension was pretty consistently that the impossibility of living up to a good idea isn't a reason to stop trying, because at the end of the day you have to stand for something. Tommy Monaghan (who's on the same rooftop as Supes in order to snipe a slumlord) pins Superman and what he stands for as the best shot that anyone will ever have to genuinely embody the supposed ideals of America- and "if a chance is all we can hope for, well, maybe that ain't so bad."

By the time he got around to The Boys, though, a decade had passed, Bush had been elected twice, and the Great War on Terror was grinding millions into mincemeat for the sake of making the number go up for Cheney's boardroom buddies, and I think Ennis's ability to muster enthusiasm about aspirational symbols had taken a pretty serious hit. From here we derive the depiction of a Superman figure who's an utterly self-absorbed corporate-attack-dog turned lukewarm wannabe ubermensch- a contrast to Garth's consistent characterization of Superman as someone whose principle issue is that he cares about others beyond what's possible for his behavior to ever reflect:

Indeed, a fairly common criticism of Homelander is and was that beyond extremely superficial aesthetic signifiers he had next to nothing in common with Superman as a character, and as a consequence quite a bit of his vileness was viewed as mere shadowboxing. But, as you said, Homelander was never really about Superman so much as he was being used as a synecdoche for America-as-it-actually-is- this big, gaudy, self-important corporate extrusion of unity, moral certainty and wholesomeness slapped like a band-aid over the unfixable, unsalvagable morass of systemic abuse, graft, self-interest, and mass murder that rules over us all. And I think that this is basically a fair cop, because we can argue all day over which specific element of the mythos best represents Superman or any other character, but the reality is that the mythos got as big as it did hand-in-hand with the corporate engine that feeds them and feeds off of them in turn.

I believe that this, in turn, is a major element of why Amazon's version of The Boys went gangbusters; Homelander still doesn't pattern-match to Superman particularly well beyond the superficial, but what he can be is an amalgamation and a face for the capeshit blob that was marginal in 2006 but had eaten the media landscape wholescale by 2019. It's sufficiently big and overexposed that everyone is at least peripherally aware of the complaints levied at the project- the focus-grouping, the sanding, the two-faced lukewarm progressivism, the ten thousandth first gay character while ticket money is getting funneled to frothing reactionaries, actors who're cyclically deified and pilloried when their grotesque politics and personal conduct enter the public eye, the constant churn of self-justifying content, the knowledge that after whatever wholesome redditbait Big Damn hero moments they feed us Disney is still off in the background Being Disney to everyone, with all the horror that entails. I wholeheartedly believe that Homelander and what he's a shorthand for would be totally legible to someone who's never actually seen an entire MCU flick- the comic had some biting remarks about the state of an industry that was ultimately a nonentity for most people, but you can't miss it now.

[lyxchen]

It makes me sad to read posts where people say that they don't like Squid Game season 3 because it showed them that there is no hope left, that trying to change the system won't do anything and that evil always wins. Because that's not the message I got from it. I already made quite a few posts about it so I won't repeat myself on why but this season and especially Gi-hun's character and arc gave me a lot of hope. All of what came after the games were ended also gave me a lot of hope. Seeing this little girl cancer free because her dad got out of the games alive and was able to pay for her treatment gives me hope. Seeing Jun-hee's baby wrapped not in the bloody jackets of her mother and the man who saved her life but instead in cute and clean baby clothing and in a place where she will be Safe gives me a lot of hope. Seeing Cheol finally be reunited with his mother gives me hope. Seeing the island get destroyed in one way or another gives me hope. Knowing that all of Jun-ho's and Gi-hun's efforts weren't for nothing Gives Me Hope. I know the way the story went was really sad. But we also saw that something did change and that some people's lives were changed for the better. And we also saw that life goes on. That is something that's so so so important to me and something that helps me a lot when I'm having a bad phase. Life keeps going, you're never going to be stuck in your misery for forever. It may not be the biggest thing but to me that means a whole lot. And that does give me a lot of hope. I obviously can't change anybody's feelings and how this season made them feel. But maybe it does help somebody to look at it from a different angle and see the hope in this shows ending that I'm seeing

Edit because @garlandgerard messaged me about it: what also gave me hope was In-ho and how he reacted in the end. It very much seems like he has actually changed for the better. He's definitely not perfect but I do think he has seen that he was wrong. He took care of a baby that had nobody else for six months and made sure to find it a home that was going to care for it and protect it. In some way he actually held up Gi-hun's promise to Jun-hee. While he didn't explain much he still tried to give Ga-yeong at least a little bit of closure in hopes that she won't resent her dad so much anymore. And overall what gives me the most hope with In-ho's story is that it shows that you Can change people's opinion for the better. To me it is pretty clear that after everything Gi-hun did he finally got through to In-ho and showed him that he was Wrong. In-ho realized that. And it gives me so much hope seeing a man who was so convinced of his opinion that humans are trash and inherintly bad people, realize that that isn't true and that humans do have a choice to be good and are able to do good no matter how bad the situation. In-ho took a baby, a baby that in this show is a representation of humanity and he cared for it and made sure it could grow up safe!!!

[bananonbinary]

as a certified Diagnosed Autist(TM) i cannot stress enough that i am not only pro- self-diagnosis, but also pretty anti- legal medical diagnosis. it is, at best, a cruel hoop we have to jump through so privileged people will deign to give us what we need. don't fucking do that shit unless you have to, it was disgustingly expensive, fucking humiliating, infantilizing, and dehumanizing, and would probably actively cause problems in my life if i didn't have some really good allistic (-passing) people in my corner and also wasn't so fucking disabled that it mostly doesn't matter.

literally get that diagnosis if you need it for job/school accessibility shit or SSI or whatever, and otherwise dont tell the government SHIT about yourself. there is zero good reason for them to want that information. that's between you and the people you want in your life.

[riteliso]

S02E04

DO ALL THE B PLOTS IN SEASON 2 JUST SUCK

AGAIN I FULLY UNDERSTAND CATRA FAVOURITISM

I HAVE IT

BUT WE KEEP GIVING HER THE A PLOT THAT ACTUALLY MOVES FORWARD THE OVERARCHING STORY

AND THEN GIVING THE BEST FRIEND SQUAD VERY LITTLE TO FUCKING WORK WITH

AND SWIFT WIND KEEPS BEING THERE

HE'S NOT THERE THIS TIME BUT THE PRINCESSES ARE BEING ANNOYING

But hey who knows maybe it's way better than I remember that'd be nice

Anyway Bow died

I'd provide screenshots so you have any amount of context for me saying that but I dislike being helpful

We suck at planning let's play dnd about it

Anyway she's right but also you're literally going against a schemer who's plans frequently rely on ruining your plans

Like, specifically

You literally planned to go to a party and have fun once and instead she made your heart skip a beat, made you think she died for a split second, then kidnapped your whole support system

Like her favourite thing to do is ruin your plans no matter how simple or convoluted they may be

Except for the one time she helped you escape and saved your plan but that doesn't count and it wasn't because she likes you

When it's because she likes you she ruins your plans

He's already doing that

All of you are doing that

You are at the parapets

She's not good at delegating but then again she knows two people and one of those is a leash adult

She only ever fucking wears red

I feel like someone left the writer's room who was maybe trying to keep the gay stuff more subtle or something

This bitch is actively lusting in dialogue, usually we've been doing that by putting 8000 dollars into different nuanced stares while Catra and Adora look at each-other or think about looking at each-other

You fucking wish

No shit dumbass

What's next are you gonna figure out you could factor in your ability to use your sword

Or Bow's ability to use his arrows

Season 2 really makes this feel like the Catra show with her wacky rogue's gallery of Rebels doesn't it

Even when Catra isn't here she's here like 8 different times in like 5 different artstyles

WE GET IT YOU MISS YOUR EX keep it in your fuckin pants jesus

This episode is like an excersise in the most spectacular way to fail the bechdel test but instead of a man it's specifically Catra

I don't fucking like this

I DO HOWEVER

Like her evil cat

CAN WE GO ONE SCENE WITHOUT SOMEONE TALKING ABOUT HOW BAD THEY WANNA HATEFUCK CATRA

Also clearly I was wrong earlier, I MISTAKENLY remembered this as having an A plot about Catra, but that's next episode.

FOOLISHLY I DIDN'T REMEMBER THAT THIS EPISODE'S A PLOT FEATURED OUR TRIO OF HEROES SITTING IN A CIRCLE TALKING ABOUT CATRA

WHILE THE B PLOT FEATURED SCORPIA STANDING STILL TALKING ABOUT CATRA

HOW COULD I BE SO BLIND

LIke again, lemme clarify, I GET IT

I FUCKIN UNDERSTAND OKAY

I LOVE CATRA

SO FUCKIN MUCH

LOOKING AT THAT STUPID CAT MAKES ME HAPPY

REALIZING I SAW SO MUCH OF MYSELF IN HER AND SO MUCH OF HER IN ME MADE ME A BETTER WOMAN, LESBIAN, PARTNER, ET CETERA

THIS IS STILL FUCKING INSANE, THOUGH

I don't like this either but it has historical contexts so I don't wanna complain

Yeah, yeah, we get it, you call "failrp" anytime anybody but YOU describes what your ex would do

I changed my mind I actually DO wanna complain

No matter how big a Catra fan you are, you will never be as big a Catra fan as Adora

Or the writers really

Or the storyboard artists

Really most of production

Yeah if Adora made up what she wanted to happen

I mean

There'd be a lot of Catra, but there wouldn't be any costume change

Unless you count removal of a costume as a change

She's making me uncomfortable

SEASON 2

Hey sorry to everyone who hates how long that last post is when you're looking for fanart and shipping tidbits instead of a dissertation

But here's another

Shut the fuck up

ALRIGHT SO

we cold open on violence and fighting to bring us back into the setting, and we're quickly introduced to a miscellaneous status quo change that throws some people off

Frosta is nice now

Some people I've seen, it throws them off enough that the show kinda loses them, and I can understand that.

This is a show that lives by strong character writing, so an immediate tonal shift DOES feel strange. I'm not gonna deny that, and I'm not gonna say that the version of Frosta we get for the next little while isn't my least favourite version of her.

I think we end UP with a happy median. Where she's childlike, but she takes things seriously, and doesn't like to be talked down to. That's why she makes such a good character foil for Micah. I personally believe that's her at her best, but she also had a very strong introduction, so I can't BLAME people for getting attached to that version of the character, and disappointed when they take things in a different direction.

It's strange, and it's something that this show doesn't really-- DO. I get that it can be explained away in universe with her putting on a brave and uncaring and rough exterior for the ball she was hosting, but we also literally JUST saw her at the very end of season 1 and she was acting the same.

It's not a bad change, this version of her is fine, but it's unusual and in a perfect world the transition between the season 1 version of her and the version we end up with as the character gets more depth would have been smoother.

The splash screen is still the same >:(

I don't remember when they start changing I was hoping it'd just be once each season (with one exception) so that it'd be easy for meeeeeeeeee

Now I have to pay ATTENTION

UGH

VOICE DIRECTION

First off, it's odd that this isn't the first time that we've had a fake Catra.

Secondly, she sounds weird here in a way that's kinda hard to explain. She sounds kinda like a caricature of herself, which makes sense?

It's a tiny detail. But it kinda falls flat on your first watch because we just saw Frosta acting weird, anyway.

As with all holodecks in sci-fi, this one's primary use is lesbian sex

Also it's an amazing fight scene, I won't show YOU the frame-by-frames, but they're good frames

The amount of times she will be fighting Catra and we get to see her expression soften the moment she gets ANY amount of upper hand

If you pay enough attention to take a shot each time you'll be more of a wine mom than Shadow Weaver

We hear this in not strictly Catra's voice, it's distorted, because it's Lighthope speaking THROUGH Catra, not just EMULATING Catra.

Lighthope wants this cat dead. I mean I don't blame her I just don't agree with her reasoning of "I want this cat dead so that this lesbian follows my orders better"

Yeah :(

Also I don't believe her when she says it's meant for total accuracy

I think it's probably PRETTY accurate

But also it's based off of ADORA'S memories which is why Catra actually has the troublepuffs to hold her hand instead of being a whiny little baby.

Somehow Adora is under the impression that Catra is brave which is fucking insane

She's not brave she is just filled to the brim with unimpeded violent hubris

Catra thinks that the point of the myth of Icarus is that "at least his wings melted from the sun and not the sea"

Also it's been a month take note

Not for any particular reason, it's just good to know how long these breaks in time are

Girl me too and for equally stupid but very different reasons

As we learn later they weren't mistakes they were being a decent fuckin person

Do you think when nobody's around Catra puts on the glasses and kisses this robot

Or does she not because she doesn't like She-ra she still just likes Adora

You are such a pathetic show-off

MOUSE

Nah but fr the fear of stepping on a mouse is too real I don't wanna FEEL THAT

PEOPLE JUST POINT AND LAUGH AND SAY IM AN ELEPHANT WHEN I TELL THEM THATS MY REASONING

She really is bored

She needs a hobby besides vengence

Y'see when they actually fight she gets into such a slump and she's so ANNOYING about it

The moonstone is super-charged by the way

It doesn't hold much relevance and I guess that shows that due to the princesses uniting all of their powers have improved

Everyone is a bitch and they all hate each-other

[quibbs126]

A random lore thing I made up for TF One, solely based on that “we’ve got torture labyrinth tomorrow” thing for whatever reason

So basically, there’s this type of Energon that forms that’s basically like, super Energon, where a single cube of that would equate to like, 100 normal cubes. So it’s incredibly valuable and used to better help power Cybertron throughout the Energon drought during Sentinel’s reign (I mean he might be just giving it to the Quintessons, but like, that’s as far as people know)

But also, it’s very rare and only grows incredibly deep within Cybertron, with tunnels that could reach deep enough to where it grows only appearing for brief windows every half cycle. They’re only open for like, 1-2 hours, and while in every period they reopen for that same window a few days later, once that period ends, they don’t reopen again for another half a cycle

Not only that, but those deep tunnels are where the Dwellers reside. And while the occasional Dweller appears in the normal mines, they’re almost always just babies exploring outside the bounds of their homes, and basically harmless unless directly attacked. But down there, that’s the Dweller colonies, full of adult ones who are far more dangerous and aggressive when bots come into their territory

But the Energon down there is incredibly valuable, and even a couple hundred cubes would be an incredible amount of energy, so Sentinel has miners sent down there regardless

Every half cycle or so, whenever the tunnels open, a lot of miners are deployed to go down into the deep tunnels to retrieve the rare Energon. And it’d be impossible for them to go in, retrieve it and come out within the brief windows the tunnels open, so instead they’re meant to stay in the tunnels and keep digging until the tunnels open back up again, at which point they try to evacuate as fast as they can to reach that window

Unfortunately, plenty of miners end up either dying from the Dwellers or dangerous tunnels, or they weren’t fast enough to escape the tunnels before they closed, at which point they’re most likely going to die before the next reopening. Someone’s probably actually survived the waiting period and been rescued, but I don’t know who would fit

I’m also unsure now if it should be that the majority of miners are sent into the deep tunnels during these periods, or if it should only be certain groups, and like they get some sort of reward for doing it. The miners probably don’t have much choice in being assigned to it regardless, but I don’t know what would make more sense for Sentinel to do

To try and mitigate the high risk, the deployed miners are probably required to work in at the very least, teams of two, if not more, to help one another in case of danger and try to lower the risk of death, or loss of the rare crystals

Then once the movie happens and Energon flows freely once again, there becomes little need to go through these tunnels with the new abundance of Energon, which the former miners probably celebrate; the only people that might go down there now are researchers looking for those rare Energon crystals to study, or idiot thrill seekers

So basically, no more torture labyrinth for the miners

[cinemaocd]

For my UK mutuals

As requested I'm not interacting but I have a lot to say about surviving extreme weather as American who has survived half a century of extreme weather in the midwest.

I lived in uninsulated attic bedroom without ac as a child and these are things I learned to do when I was little:

Close up the windows and shut the blinds as the day is heating up. Wait to open things up until after the sun goes down. Use fans to circulate air into the house early in the a.m. when it's colder outside than inside. Use your fans to circulate air around the house during the heat of the day. Use your fans to push air OUT of the house again in the evening. If you push air out an upper story window it will draw some colder air from below.

Save activities/errands for evenings and early mornings. Stay out of the sun as much as possible. Use umbrellas for shade. Wear a hat. Lose fitting clothing in a breathable (cotton, linen, light weight wool) fabric is much better than exposed skin if you have to go in the sun. If you want to go to the beach go early in the morning or in the evening. Don't swim in the heat of the day. If you are in charge of when you work, avoid doing it in the heat of day. If you run a shop, cafe or other business, change your hours to avoid being open during "siesta hours" (2-5 p.m.) If possible try to work from home to avoid commuting during the heatwave. The more people on the Tube the hotter it's going to be down there.

Cars left in the sun are subject to the greenhouse effect and will be much hotter than outside temperatures. Open your car windows and doors before you drive and run the fan to push the hot air out. If you are traveling carry the following: Cold drinking water, a sports drink, nut milk or cow's milk are preferable to soda, coffee or tea but any of those three are preferable to nothing. Even if your vehicle has a.c. you still need more hydration to deal with the heat.

Also useful for travel: bandana or towel (more on that later), sun hat, handheld fan (for when you are stuck in traffic). In America they sell these shields that you can put over your windshield to prevent the greenhouse effect. Not sure if they sell them in the Old Country, but here is a tutorial for making one out of cardboard. All of this stuff (minus the sunshade) would be useful on public transport.

That other post talks about how its bad to wear wet clothes in the sun because water acts as a lens but wet clothing can be your best friend in the shade! A bandana dipped in cold/cool water and wrapped around your neck will keep you cool until it dries. For sleeping I often place a cold bandana or washcloth on my face or forehead. You can dampen a towel and sit on it (this is a great trick for long car rides in the heat) Alternatively: Hot water bottles can also be COLD WATER BOTTLES. Just add ice. They make ice trays that make skinny little shapes to fit into water bottles, and they can help turn your hwb into an ice pack.

Cold/cool showers and baths especially right before bed if you have trouble sleeping in the heat. Kiddie pools or animal troughs in the shade are great for keeping people and doggos cool.

Cranking your fridge to its lowest setting will make it cool more but the heat that is pumped out of the fridge goes right into your house. Keep your fridge at the warmest temp you can get away with. Likewise televisions and computers pump out of a ton of heat when they are running.

IF YOU LOSE POWER

The temptation to rely on your refrigerator/freezer is obvious but the first thing that happens in a heat wave in America is the power grid goes down.

Think about buying a solar powered fan now, before the grid goes down...

Make sure you have batteries charged ahead of time.

If you rely on candles or lanterns for power outtages, consider a source of light that doesn't add heat to the environment, like a solar powered LED lantern.

Another piece of equipment that could literally save your life: a marine cooler.

If/when the worst happens: take some large frozen items out of freezer/deepfreeze and put it in a cooler with some essentials from your fridge. Deeply frozen food will keep those other things cool for a day or more (depending on your cooler). Try to keep the fridge and freezer shut then after you have filled your cooler so that the remaining cool air will keep things as long as possible. If you go multiple days without power you may need to throw everything out anyway, but you might get away with it if you are careful and have a good cooler.

A marine cooler kept out of the sun will keep ice for days. We started camping with one and we no longer have to do any kind of mid-trip ice stock up. Also: block ice will stay frozen so much longer than cubes. If you have the space in your freezer, buy some now and stash it before you need it.

Fresh fruit and vegetables that don't require cooking are a great way to get more liquids and feed yourself without making your house any hotter or using electricity. If consumed quickly they don't need refrigeration either.

This is a wacky one but hear me out: hammocks. If you can hang a hammock do it! Sleeping suspended like that air circulates around your body and you will be so much cooler. I was in tropical Mexico a few years ago and all of the houses had hammock hooks built into the walls to take advantage of the cooling effect. Bonus: you can pretend to be Captain Jack Aubrey while you're lying there...

[quiteunpersuadable]

Your quippy tagline to get viewers encompasses my job. Congratulations. 💯

[neverendingford]

.

[apollonouta]

Gave him the boot

Ended it with my fwb today bc the steady realization i have been in love with my ex best friend who i blocked and ghosted a year ago is too much for me to bear, even tho Johnathan was going to be a lot of fun bc he was into the exact same kinks as me in the exact same way and matched my freak to an eerie degree

So im gonna just kinda settle into maybe becoming one of those professional yeaners who still pine over their homoerotic object of affection like 70 years later. Wish me luck, I might become a published poet in like 5 years if i can channel whatever this is constructively!

[insomniacs-keyboard]

Bruh

[absolutedestinyapocalypsse]

i love how as you read more into tlt, the ninth house seems more and more normal. Like if i'm at an immoral evil government competition, and i use human fat as soap and animate skeletons to do menial labor, i'm gonna LOSE if my competition is the third house, represented by ianthe "who HASN'T eaten human flesh and fucked a corpse" tridentarius. My weird skeleton thing seems normal, suddenly. Well-adjusted, even. It's recycling. They're using resources in a sustainable way. Normal and regular and productive for a post-climate change apocalypse universe.

People go on and on about how Muir drops you into gtn hearing from the person who knows the least about whats happening, and does not hand hold the reader through the crazy shit that occurs, and that's all true. It truly is a crazy writing decision to make your first pov character come from the universe's equivalent of amish fundamentalists. But the reader is actually done a huge favor being dropped into the ninth house first, because we already understand that space is cold and what catholic nuns are, and what goths look like, and what lesbians are. Very little time is wasted in the first chunk of gtn ripping hair out of your head wondering what the fuck is going on, because for all of its strangeness, the ninth house is already the most familiar thing we're gonna get.

Because THEN we learn that this whole universe's medieval chivalry system is designed to groom people from CHILDREN to not only be exploited and used as human batteries for necromancers, but to LIKE it. to wax poetic about it. to confuse it for love, to write fucking academic papers about it! Then we learn about planet flipping, an act so horrific and violent it turns the planet's soul into a massive vengeful monster capable of killing GOD. Like what do you MEAN the animals "change"? Is this why noodle has six legs? I would MUCH prefer to wear skeleton makeup and repent forever if the alternative was to witness my family dog grow TWO EXTRA LIMBS because the planet he lived on fucking died. Suddenly, living in the asscrack of a planet where no light gets in seems like a sweet deal when the whole solar system is lit by a sun that MAKES YOU GO CRAZY. The ninth house's WORST sin, killing 200 babies to make Harrow, a waste of resources and an act so terrible it haunts Harrow for the entire span of her life, is like a BLIP compared to the death count Jod's empire. God even hears about it and he's like, no big deal! The cohort probably kills that amount of people in a DAY.

And its ALSO tragic because you realize that all of this trauma and abuse that Gideon goes through is not really because of the ninth house at all. It's really just an individual skill issue that she wasn't treated with compassion. Nobody hated her because she's jesus or a bomb, nobody even KNOWS she's a bomb. It's just Priamhark and Pelleamena being deeply guilty and scared people that motivates her treatment, and absolutely nothing else.

They did something bad, and they know it, and Gideon survived it, and they can't kill her to cover it up, and that's IT. They killed themselves for pride, because they were afraid of the consequences of their actions (both the baby killing and Harrow opening the tomb) coming back to bite them. You can argue this is the catholicism of it all, and I wouldn't say you're wrong, but compared to the cavalier system, where exploitation is in the very lining of the house's institutions, the ninth house is really removed from the space empire's blood factory. This is compared to the fourth house where they have tons of children to be CANNON FODDER to join the cohort at fucking 14, compared to the eight house uncle nephew fuckery, even the fifth house which actually does seems nice to live on but also seems to have the fourth house in some sort of fucked up political bear hug??? (maybe the fourth house has so many kids in order to fight the fifth's battles? which is EXACTLY what jod's whole empire is about; politely stirring your tea and acting nice while you destroy everything) compared to ALL OF THAT, the cruelty that Gideon faces is really more a bug of the ninth's system than a feature.

There's nothing baked into the culture and everyday life of the ninth house that necessitated that cruelty; in fact, for such a pragmatic and resource-scarce place, it's WEIRD that a strong able-bodied young person was treated like a waste of space and resources. It could just have easily not happened, if Harrow's parents had been different people. Maybe they were products of their environment, but so was Harrow, and she values Gideon's life SO MUCH that she'd literally rather carve out parts of her own brain than exploit her. Gideon grows up knowing really NOTHING about cavaliers, so remote from the horrors of the empire that she develops an idea of what the cohort is from porn magazines. And in a lot of ways, that upbringing was desolate and terrible, and in a lot of other ways it literally DID NOT HAVE TO BE.

Gideon's MAIN THING is that she wants to be useful, to be needed, to be loved and it SUCKS that she couldn't even get it in the one place where she was actually an invaluable resource, where the death empire had the weakest reach. Gideon can't even blame her lack of love on the fucked up chivalry system like everyone else can because it JUST WASNT REALLY RELEVENT!?!?! This is like if i rolled up to the trauma competition and everyone else was raised in a nuclear warzone by wolves or something and i grew up in like, the suburbs and was raised by teachers and i somehow STILL WON. truly what the fuck guys.

[wooyoungiewritings]

Borrowed Time - Seonghwa x Reader (Part 1)

Summary: Your husband of 8 years suggests an open marriage, and while he's out finding a new girlfriend, you feel like it's wrong to even glance in another man's direction. But it all changes when you download Tinder and match with Seonghwa. The man who's about to turn your world upside down. And he even happens to be your husband's boss.

Word count: 11.7K

Genre: Fluff, Rich Seonghwa, some angst, slow burn, a little smut (something almost happens, that's all I'm saying)

warnings: Seonghwa with reader (fem pronouns), crying, betrayal, dry-humping, lmk if I missed anything!

PART 2

This is all for fun and is not meant to represent Seonghwa in any way.

It’s been four months. Four months since you had the conversation with your husband about having an open marriage, because he wanted to try something new. The conversation is still taking up space in your mind like it was yesterday he sat you down on the couch in the house you share.

“Honey, you know I still love you,” He kept repeating after saying the possibly most shocking things you’ve ever heard. “I’m just afraid we’ll get tired of each other if we don’t try this.. We promised to be together forever, but aren’t you wondering what else is waiting for you out in the world?”

“No,” Is all you could say. A million questions run through your mind as he sits in front of you, kneeled down on his knee with your hands in his as you sit on the couch. “I married you because I want to be with you. And only you.” Your voice is shaky, trying to hold back the tears.

He notices the way you react and squeezes your hands in his.

“And I want to be with you, baby. I wanna be with you for the rest of my life, which is why I feel like this is the best we can do for now.” He tried explaining, but it didn’t help. 

“I just don’t understand? Are you not happy with me? Am I not satisfying you enough? Is it me? Am I doing something wrong?” The questions fly out of your mouth before you’re able to hold back. He quickly shakes his head, holding your hands even tighter. 

“No, no not at all. Look, I was just thinking we could do this for a year, maybe? A year where we are still married, but see other people in the meantime. When the year ends, we’ll be back to just us, and because we promised to stay together for the rest of our lives, a year won’t seem as much. This will be the only time we get to see other people for the rest of our lives, baby. It’s not a bad thing, it's only gonna strengthen our marriage in the end.” 

For some twisted reason, you saw his point. If you agreed to this, he would have a year to be with whoever he wanted, to get everything out of his system. So you agreed. You told him you agreed to do this for a year, but there had to be rules.

You had to tell the other person when you started seeing someone. No sleeping with a bunch of people, you have to tell the other person who you’re sleeping with (mostly for safety reasons). And NO one is allowed into the bedroom besides husband and wife.

And so this has been going on for four months now, and your husband is out with his girlfriend. Since this wasn’t against your deal, you couldn’t say much against it, so you just nodded and pretended to be okay. He started seeing her a week after the deal was made, a woman from his office, and the news broke your heart. He was barely home anymore, spending all of his time at her place.

The pain of hearing your husband of 8 years loving someone else was unbearable, and yet you couldn’t even get yourself to see someone else. It felt so wrong. 

It was a friday night and you’re sitting on your couch in your shared home, and your husband just left to have a weekend getaway with his girlfriend. You’re staring at the TV that has been going for hours with some bad reality TV-show, when you finally realize how sick you are of sitting home alone while your husband is out. You grab your phone and without thinking too much, you download Tinder. 

It wasn’t an app you’ve ever tried before, since your husband and you have been dating since you were teens and got married at an early age. But you quickly figured out the app and set up your profile. 

Swiping left and right on guys was more fun than you imagined, getting a few matches here and there. There were all different types of profiles on this app. Guys looking for serious relationships, guys looking for hookups, couples looking for a woman to add to their threesome. Men who opened with “hey sexy” or bios that included “I’m not looking for anything serious unless it’s with Sabrina Carpenter.”

So when his profile popped up, you hesitated.

His picture captures you immediately, and you’re taken back with his beauty. He was… breathtaking. But not in that overly filtered, red flag kind of way. There was warmth in his eyes, even in photos. A calm kind of confidence. One picture had him sitting at a piano, another laughing in the passenger seat of a car, sunlight washing over his face like it knew exactly where to land.

No shirtless mirror pics. No awkward drunk group-pictures. No fish.

“Park Seonghwa.” You read his name out loud. His bio was short. “Looking for something good. And maybe someone to watch bad TV with.”

You stared at his profile for a full two minutes before swiping right, mostly convinced it wouldn’t be a match anyway.

But then-

It’s a match!

Suddenly your heart starts to beat faster and you sit up straight on the couch while looking at your phone.

Did you just match him? Probably the most handsome man you’ve ever seen?

Your stomach did a weird little flip. You waited. Twenty minutes. An hour. Maybe he wasn’t the type to message first. Maybe he matched by accident. Or maybe-...

Park Seonghwa Are you watching something awful right now? Be honest.

You look at your screen for a few seconds before reacting. A smile spreads across your lips as you open his message and type back.

Me Love Mansion: Season 6. There’s a guy crying because no one likes his magic tricks.

You quickly see the dots that indicate he’s typing.

Park Seonghwa That sounds deeply tragic. And also like something I’d binge while pretending I hate it

Me You’re one of those people? “This show is terrible” but suddenly you’ve watched 8 episodes and you know everyone’s star sign.

While you wait for his answer, you enter his profile once again. You can’t help looking at his pictures, mesmerized by how beautiful this man is. You almost get a feeling of recognition while looking at him, like you’ve seen him on a poster or in an ad or something. His profile doesn’t inform about his occupation, but you’re sure he must be showing that face off somewhere. 

A new message pops up.

Park Seonghwa: I have a spreadsheet

You laughed out loud for the first time that night.

You: So what’s your favorite actually-good movie then?

Park Seonghwa: You’re asking a very serious question to someone who owns a full set of replica lightsabers

You: Oh, so you’re very serious about it

Park Seonghwa: Yes. Star Wars. All of it. Even the prequels. Especially the prequels. I said what I said

I’m at my third Star Wars movie of the day. The movies are over two hours each, so you can imagine how eventful my day is so far

You can’t help but smile while you type out your answer. 

Me As a person who doesn’t know much about the franchise, I can’t tell you whether I’m impressed or slightly worried. Maybe I should put on a Star Wars movie and give it a chance?

An answer ticks in a few seconds later.

Park Seonghwa If you do, watch “The Last Jedi”. I just started mine, we can watch it together but separately

You don’t know how a guy you’re only a few messages deep with has you convinced this is the best way to spend your night. You decide to play the movie and message him you’re watching it too. This is the most action you’ve gotten in months, but somehow it's the perfect way to start this journey of an open-relationship. 

Maybe.

The movie begins and Seonghwa introduces some of the characters as they show up on screen. You find yourself laughing at his messages, smiling and waiting for him to text you the next thing. A feeling you haven’t felt in years, despite being married to who you’re convinced is the love of your life. But you can already tell that Seonghwa is a completely different type of guy, and for once, you actually don’t feel alone in the house you share with your husband. 

The movie ends and you’re hundreds of messages deep.

Park Seonghwa Now that we’ve concluded that “The Last Jedi” is part of an amazing franchise but not at all the best movie, I wanna admit that I’ve never looked so much at my phone during a Star Wars movie. I feel like I’m cheating on my favorite series

The text makes you giggle and you’re quick to type your answer.

Me Despite enjoying the movie, I must admit that I didn’t see half of it because I was focused on my phone. But I’ll gladly give Star Wars another chance someday

You see the text bubble appear and then go away a few times, making you curious about what he’s about to say. 

Seonghwa: We could talk about the movie over dinner tomorrow?

You stare at your screen for what feels like forever, feeling like a teenager receiving a text from her crush. This overwhelming feeling Seonghwa leaves you is something completely new, but despite it being a new and slightly scary feeling, you can’t help but feel excited. And so your fingers start typing.

Me I’d love to! After arranging your upcoming date with Seonghwa, you decide to head to bed. You’re meeting him at a restaurant in the city tomorrow, Saturday. He offered to pick you up, but you’ve seen too many horror movies to give your address to a stranger before meeting them, so you came up with an excuse to meet him there. 

You get comfortable in bed before opening his profile once again to look at his pictures.

This man… wow.

But just like before, a feeling of recognition hits you and you study his pictures a bit more. You’re sure you would remember him if you had met him, because who would forget a face like that? But it doesn’t ring a bell.. 

You open a new tab on your phone and search for his name. Perhaps he has been in a show you’ve seen on tv, maybe on a poster somewhere. There’s no way this man isn’t showing off his looks somehow. 

His name pops up on your screen.

A gasp leaves your lips and you stare at him in awe. 

It can’t be him! No no no no no… 

The name, the face, him in a suit. Everything washes over you. You throw your phone away from you and bury your face in your pillow. 

In your mind, you’re getting transported to a specific night, one year ago. Your husband has your arm in his and you’re walking side by side in your finest attire. You’re laughing at something your husband's co-worker said, when you sense a powerful presence enter the circle at the company dinner at your husband’s job.

“Oh, I want to introduce you to someone,” Your husband says as he turns you towards the newest member of the group. “My boss, Park Seonghwa.”

You stare up at him, Seonghwa slightly taller than your husband. His gaze adverts to you as he reaches out his hand. But as you give him your hand, he doesn’t do a normal handshake. He gently takes your hand in his and sends you a warm smile. Something in his eyes makes you lose all concentration, as you’re lost in his beauty. 

And then it all made sense. You’ve thought these exact thoughts before. A year ago at the company dinner and again tonight. 

Everything in your mind is going 100 m/ph and you suddenly feel confused. Does he know you’re married to his employee? Does he remember you? You’re pretty sure he doesn’t, or else he would have said something. And now you’ve arranged a date with him. 

You grab your phone again, considering if you should cancel the dinner, but something in you stops that from happening. The words don't appear in your head when you try to get out of the situation, so you delete the nonsense you’ve written so far, and decide to take things as they come. You place your phone on your night stand and get comfortable under the covers, trying your best to fall asleep.

On a couch across town, Seonghwa is still looking at his phone, looking at the text-bubbles come and go. When it doesn’t result in a text from the woman he has been texting all night, he goes to look at your profile for the 29th time tonight. 

He didn’t expect much from Tinder.

Honestly, it had been a joke. A dare, technically. His assistant downloaded it on his phone one night after too many glasses of wine at a company dinner and said, “You need to date someone who doesn’t know what your net worth is.”

So fine. He swiped. Occasionally. Mostly out of boredom, sometimes out of curiosity. Everyone started blending together. Bios full of yoga poses, forced “entrepreneur” energy, one woman who said she manifested her future husband every morning through herbal tea and moon rituals.

But then he saw you.

He found himself leaning back against the cushions, phone in hand, grinning like an idiot as your replies came in. You weren't trying to be impressive. You were just herself. And that was more magnetic than anything he’d seen in months. He didn’t even realize he’d been texting for two straight hours until his phone buzzed with a calendar notification:

Dinner with Executive Team – 9 AM monday.

He groaned. Whatever. He’d been in back-to-back meetings all week. He could allow himself one night to just… feel normal. Human.

“What’s a woman like you doing here?” he’s asking himself with a smirk, scrolling through your pictures. 

He had planned to go to bed early, have a peaceful night and get up early tomorrow, but he’s been too fascinated by the woman on the other side of the app. The tug on his lips doesn’t go away as he gets up from the couch and decides to head to bed, already accepting that he won’t get up early tomorrow. 

But one thing is for sure.

He’s very satisfied with the way his night went.

***

Saturday arrives, and you find yourself in front of the restaurant you agreed to meet Seonghwa at. You haven’t had any contact since you arranged the date, besides the check-in he made earlier today to ask if you were still down for dinner.

You feel the nerves in your body when you open the door, not having felt this feeling since you started dating your husband. The restaurant is in an area of town you usually didn’t visit - it is more expensive than you are used to. But not spending money on dates with your husband, and only cooking food for one for the past four months has resulted in you having a bit more money than you usually do, so you could go big for one night and spend some money on a good restaurant. 

The restaurant has a dark design with marble and wooden interior. The light is dimmed and you notice couples occupying tables throughout the restaurant. 

This is actually happening. You are going on a date with him.

With Seonghwa. 

It suddenly hit you and once again, you starting to doubt if this was a good idea. You have come to the point where you wanted to date, but dating your husband’s boss seems like the next level. Will your husband be okay with this? Will Seonghwa be okay with this?

Suddenly feeling like your legs are about to give out, you turn around to head outside but you are instead met with a human wall. A set of hands grab your waist to steady you, making sure you won’t fall by the sudden collision. 

“Running away already?” The voice asks, darker than you remember but also soft with a small tease. You look up to see Seonghwa’s soft eyes, slightly covered by some dark pieces of hair. Being a few inches from his face, you can’t help but freeze to study how absolutely amazing he looks up close. 

His almost black eyes, bushy brows, how his upper lip looks slightly bigger than the other, the most perfect nose you’ve ever seen.. Everything is too perfect, you don't know how to react. 

The sudden realization that his hands are on your waist wakes you up, and you stand back up straight to take a step away from him and his undeniably stunning face. 

“Uhm, no I.. I mean, I- no. I didn’t..” Your struggle with words makes him chuckle and he seems to brush off your awkward first meeting quicker than you. 

“How about we find our table?” He asks with a smile, placing his hand on your back to lead you further into the restaurant. 

“Mh-hmm.” Is all you manage to get out, wanting to kick yourself in the head for almost walking out on this man. 

The restaurant is a rooftop spot. Quiet, upscale, city lights spilling in through the glass walls. A jazz trio played somewhere in the background, subtle and elegant. The staff seem to know him, your table is ready immediately, tucked in a quiet corner with a view of the city lights. He orders a bottle of wine without looking at the menu, his tone smooth and confident, and then turn all his attention to you.

“Tell me something,” he says, resting his chin on his hand, “How have you lived your entire life and last night was the first time you watched a Star Wars movie?”

You blink at him. “You start with the hard questions?”

He smile. “I like to skip the small talk.”

You giggle. And from there, the conversation goes rather smoothly. Then easier as the wine warms your chest and his eyes never stop watching you like you were the most interesting person in the world. He asks thoughtful questions. He doesn’t talk about himself unless you ask. And when you do, he’s vague, says he works in business, likes privacy, that his life isn’t all that exciting.

Which is a lie, you are sure.

This man radiates luxury. His watch alone could pay for your college loans, and he never once checked it. And then somewhere between the wine and the main course, it starts to gnaw at you. The weight of the secret you’re keeping. Or at least… the one you thought is yours alone.

You clear your throat, reaching for your glass again even though you didn’t really want another sip.

“I should tell you something.”

He tilts his head. “Are you okay?” he senses the way your behavior changes and tries meeting your eyes.

“Yeah,” your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes, too nervous to break the truth that you know this man in front of you. “Or.. I don’t know, no, yes-no..” Your heart is beating fast. “Look, I’m sorry, but I feel like I have to be honest with you. I don’t want you to waste your time sitting here, and if you don’t feel comfortable after receiving this information I totally understand, so if you’re freaked out we can pretend this never happened and I won’t-..”

“Look,” Seonghwa places his hand over yours, totally calm, meeting your eyes. “Did you kill someone?”

“No!” You try keeping your voice down. Try.

“Do you need me to hide a body?”

“No!?”

“... Are we related?”

You tilt your head “No? I hope not…?”

“Then we’re good. I won’t be freaked out.” He shrugs, leans slightly back in his seat and sends you a smile as he picks up his glass.

You look at him, really look, and then just say it.

“You’re my husband’s boss.”

A beat. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t react. Just blinked once, slowly.

“Is that so?” he asked softly.

“I figured it out when I looked you up after we matched. I wasn’t… trying to snoop, I swear, I just got curious. And then I remembered you from the company dinner last year. Anyway, I wanted to say something in case it made this… weird for you.”

He smiles gently, setting down his glass. “It doesn’t.”

You blink. “Really?”

“I knew who you were the moment I saw your profile.”

Your stomach drops. “Oh.”

“But I still swiped right,” he adds, voice low, calm. “And I still wanted to meet you.”

“…Why?”

He doesn’t answer right away. He just looks at you for a moment, and something in his gaze makes your skin heat. “Because I wanted the honor of inviting you out for dinner.” he says.

Your breath catches. You don’t know what to say to that, so you stay quiet, letting the words sit between you like warm embers.

“And now that we’re being honest,” he continues gently, “That little thing on your finger.” He points to the gold band with a small diamond around your finger, proving to everyone, including yourself, that you’re still in a marriage.

You give a small, helpless laugh. “Oh.. Yeah, it’s not what it looks like. Or maybe it is? I don’t think so, actually, I don’t know what this looks like, but I’m not doing anything I’m not supposed to do-...”

“You don’t have to explain anything,” he says.

“No, I want to,” you reply, surprising yourself. “I need to.”

So you tell him. About the open marriage your husband suggested. About how you agreed, naively thinking it would be equal. About how he’d found someone in a matter of weeks while you’d sat at home, trying to convince yourself you weren’t just waiting. You watch Seonghwa carefully for a reaction. There is none, no judgment, no discomfort. Just a quiet focus that made you feel safer than you’d felt in months.

“But it’s actually a really good idea. I mean, we get the chance to see other people and do whatever we want, so we won’t cheat on each other later on,” you shrug, looking down at the wineglass instead of the piercing eyes in front of you. “It’s preventing us from hurting the other person in the end.” you say, finally. 

He sits quiet, just taking in your words. You can’t read his eyes, he just listens. But you don’t feel judged by the man in front of you. His eyes show too much warmth for you to be intimidated. 

“I don’t understand.” he finally says. 

“You know, if we date other people now, we won’t feel the need to do so in the future.” 

“No, I heard every word you said loud and clear,” he leaned forward in his chair, voice still soft. “I just don’t understand why he would need to.. you know.. date others when he has you.” 

Seonghwa was trying his best to not push. He could easily have said “I mean, if I was your husband, I wouldn’t want to see other people. I wouldn’t ever want another woman.” but he is still in the stage of getting to know you, doesn’t want to scare you away, and despite remembering you from the company dinner last year, he only remembers what impression you left him. A quick introduction and laughs shared in a circle of multiple people, but somehow his eyes kept drifting to you.

Your laugh, your dress, the way your eyes sparkled under the lights. It had stayed with Seonghwa for a year, so when he saw your profile on a dating app, he knew he had to shoot his shot. Unaware of what the circumstances are between you and your husband. 

But he doesn’t ask for more explanation. Instead, he shifts the conversation, just slightly, easing it toward lighter things, books, music, how you both secretly hate networking events.

And somehow, the night never felt heavy again. When dessert comes, some delicate French pastry you can’t pronounce, he insists you try the first bite. When your laugh returns, brighter this time, he smiles like that was the reward he’s been waiting for.

Later, as he walks you to your ride, you feel lighter. Like maybe it was okay to want something new. Someone new.

“I still want to see you again,” he says, standing beside the car door. His hand brushes your wrist, soft and brief. “If you want that too.”

You nod.

“I do.”

He opens the door for you, then leans down just enough to meet your eyes.

“Then let’s take our time.”

In the cab on the way home, you can’t stop smiling. You haven’t even finished closing the door behind you before your phone buzz.

Seonghwa: Text me when you’re home safe, yeah? No pressure, just want to know you’re good.

You smile into the hallway light. God, he’s that kind of man. You kick off your heels, phone still in hand, fingers already typing back.

You: Home. Warm. A little wine-dizzy but safe. Thank you for dinner.

Seonghwa: Thank you for giving me a chance. Sleep well xx

You sit on the edge of your bed for a moment longer than necessary, phone against your chest, still fully dressed. The night felt soft around the edges, like it wasn’t quite real. Like maybe you’d dreamed it. His smile, the way he listens to you like your words matter, the way he looks at you like you’re the only thing in the room.

And he knows. That was the wild part. He knows you’re married, to his employee, no less, and he still treats you with more care and curiosity than your own husband had in months. You let yourself fall back into bed, fully clothed, staring up at the ceiling with the ghost of his cologne still caught in your hair.

***

On this incredibly boring Monday, the rain started halfway through your meeting, and by the time you stepped outside, it had gone from a gentle drizzle to a full-on, cinematic downpour. You stand beneath the awning outside your building, arms crossed, watching as the other employees disappeared into warm cars and dry seats.

Your husband was supposed to pick you up. You agreed to that last week, so you texted him before you left, but no response. Not a word. That was twenty-five minutes ago. 

Your fingers tightens around your phone as you glance down the street for the fifth time. Just water streaking down your coat sleeve and your phone screen lighting up.

Not from him.

But from Seonghwa.

Seonghwa I debated texting you for ten minutes. This is me giving in. Hi.

You smile immediately, shoulders relaxing under your scarf as you type back.

You Ten minutes? I’m flattered. 

Three dots. Then:

Seonghwa Are you still at work or did you escape?

You exhale slowly, already smiling before your fingers move to reply.

You Currently trying to escape. But I’m waterlogged and standing under a leaky bus shelter.

A pause.

Seonghwa Do I want to know why you’re waiting for a bus in a rainstorm?

You hesitate. Not because you don’t want to tell him, but because you did. And that felt… a little dangerous. But you type anyway.

You Husband said he’d pick me up after work. Then forgot.

You don’t know the reason why your husband didn’t pick you up today. But it was not the first time this has happened. Last time he was busy hanging out with his girlfriend, having his phone on silent. 

Three dots danced at the bottom of the screen for a long moment before his reply came in:

Seonghwa Tell me where you are

You don’t answer right away. Another bus pass, wrong line again, and your fingers ache from the cold.

You Seonghwa. I’m fine. It’s just a little rain

Seonghwa Sure. And I’m a little meteorologist. Tell me where you are

You bite your lip, watching as a bus rumbled past - not yours. 

You Seventh and Willow. But you don’t have to, it’s okay

Seonghwa I’m already in my car. Don’t argue with me while you’re catching pneumonia

Your lips curve in spite of yourself. You pulled your scarf tighter.

Seonghwa On my way. Five minutes. Don’t wander off or find a mysterious love interest in a bookstore while I’m driving

You spotted his car before you saw him.

It turns the corner slowly, headlights washing across the slick pavement, wipers dragging across the windshield in a steady rhythm. The passenger window rolls down just enough for him to lean towards it.

“Hey, get in,” he says, his tone easy and unaffected by the weather. “You look like you’ve been here a while.” 

You step forward, your boots making soft splashes in the puddles, and slide into the passenger seat. The warmth of the car is immediate, and you exhale, feeling some of the tension leave your shoulders. The car hums quietly as Seonghwa drives through the rain-slicked streets. He’s keeping his eyes on the road, but every now and then, his gaze flickers over to you, the small, concerned crease in his brow visible in the dim glow of the dashboard lights.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice steady but soft. He’s not pushing, just checking in.

You nod, brushing your damp hair back and glancing out the window. The cold air from the rain has soaked through your coat, and your clothes cling to you uncomfortably. The heater in the car is doing its best, but you can still feel the chill.

“I’m fine,” you say, though your voice sounds a little too quiet. “Just... a little wet. Didn’t expect next time you’d see me, to be me looking like this.”

Seonghwa doesn't respond right away, but you catch the small shift in his demeanor, a brief, thoughtful silence. His hands grip the steering wheel lightly as he drives through the darkened streets, navigating without hurry.

“Do you want to stop somewhere?” he asks, keeping his tone casual, though you can sense the care behind it. “Grab something warm?”

You think about it for a second. A warm drink, maybe a cozy corner of some café, those were things you used to enjoy. But the idea of sitting in a café, dripping wet and freezing, doesn’t feel right tonight. It feels… forced. You want warmth, sure, but not from the outside world.

You glance at him, then back at the road ahead.

“Actually,” you start, “could we just... go to your place?” your words surprising yourself. “If it’s not too much, of course.”

Seonghwa blinks, a soft smile curling at the corner of his lips, but he doesn't ask any questions. Instead, he simply nods, his gaze shifting back to the road as the corners of his mouth deepen into a fond, knowing expression.

“You sure?” he asks, voice low. “I mean... you’ve had a long day. You’re drenched.”

You shrug, even though a small part of you is shocked by your own words. "I’m fine. I’m not in the mood for a date-date or whatever. Just... somewhere warm. And I don’t wanna be alone tonight. If you don’t mind.”

The silence between you two feels more comfortable now, the tension from the earlier moments gone. It’s like a weight has lifted, neither of you needs to pretend anymore.

“Alright,” he says, his voice warm, “to my place it is.” The car turns into a quieter street, and Seonghwa taps his fingers lightly against the steering wheel, his smile still lingering.

When you step out of the car and into the rain, Seonghwa’s hand briefly touches the small of your back, guiding you toward the building. The touch is gentle and reassuring.

His apartment is warmer than you expected when you step inside. It’s spacious, sure, but it’s not the cold, intimidating type of wealth you might expect from someone like him. It’s cozy in a way that’s unexpected, like he’s curated it with care, each little thing in its place. You can tell he’s put thought into making this space a refuge, a place of comfort. 

“I can grab you a towel,” Seonghwa offers immediately, his voice soft. He’s already moving toward the bathroom, but when you shake your head, he pauses. “Are you sure? I’d feel better if you changed into something comfortable.”

You glance down at yourself, feeling how soaked your clothes are, and how tired you are of pretending like you don’t need help. You nod. “That would be nice, actually.”

He smiles, but it’s not a proud smile. It’s the kind of smile that makes you feel like he’s quietly relieved, like he wants to take care of you in a way you didn’t realize you needed. “I have a few shirts you can borrow,” he says, a hint of hesitation in his tone. “Nothing fancy, just... dry.”

You watch him for a moment, the way he’s trying to gauge your comfort level without pushing too hard. It’s the first time you’ve seen him unsure of anything, and it’s a little disarming.

“That sounds perfect,” you say, giving him a small, appreciative smile.

He moves quickly, purposefully, heart thudding a little harder than usual. Not from nerves, but from quiet anger. Who forgets to pick up their wife in the middle of a downpour? He doesn’t let the frustration show on his face. He just breathes through it, reminding himself that this moment isn’t about him. It’s about making you comfortable. It’s about undoing a little bit of whatever damage your husband didn’t think twice about causing.

He returns with a shirt and a pair of sweatpants. A soft, worn-in tee, and hands it to you. The fabric is warm to the touch, and it smells faintly of him. He doesn’t linger too long, but there’s something in the way he carefully places it in your hands that makes you feel safe, like he genuinely wants you to be okay, not just physically, but emotionally too.

“Take your time,” he says softly, backing away. He nods toward the hallway. “Bathroom’s down to the left. I’ll make some tea. You’ll feel better.”

It’s a simple offer, like he’s willing to offer you warmth without making you feel indebted to him. When you disappear into the bathroom to change, you can hear him bustling around in the kitchen. You take a deep breath and let yourself relax for the first time in what feels like forever.

When you return, towel-drying your hair with one of the fluffy hand towels he left out for you, you’re practically swallowed in his clothes. The shirt hangs loose over your frame, the waistband of the sweatpants tied tight around your hips. You’ve never felt so ridiculous and so safe all at once.

Seonghwa looks up from the kitchen and immediately gives you that soft, amused smile. “Okay, that’s a look.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Stylish, right? You might not get these back.”

“I was just about to say they suit you,” he replies, not missing a beat.

You laugh, and it’s small, but real, and it makes something warm twist in his chest. He’s pacing, sleeves pushed up as he moves easily around the kitchen. A kettle is on, two mugs already waiting. You catch the scent of honey and ginger in the air, something warm and slightly sweet.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” you murmur, padding into the kitchen and wrapping your arms around yourself.

He glances up from stirring the honey. “You’re cold. You’re tired. I want to.” Then, with a softer voice: “Let me take care of you. Just a little.”

That shouldn’t make your stomach flutter the way it does.

You sit at the counter, fingers curling around the mug he places in front of you. You’re so used to handling everything on your own that this small act of care feels like a luxury.

He leans against the counter opposite you, arms crossed casually, like he’s trying to keep a respectful distance. But he can’t help stealing glances at you. Not hungry, not suggestive, just thoughtful. Quietly admiring.

“You’ve had a long day,” he says after a pause, not prying. “Want to talk about it?”

You shake your head, sipping your tea. “Not really.”

“That’s okay,” he says immediately. “We can just sit.”

No questions. No expectations. He wouldn’t make you relive any of it. Not the rain, not the waiting, not the part where someone was supposed to show up and didn’t.

You let a little smile play at the edge of your lips. “You’re... very good at this.”

“At what?”

“Being comforting. It’s like you have a degree in it or something.”

Seonghwa chuckles, eyes crinkling just a little. “I’m just treating you how I think you deserve to be treated.”

He means it.

He means it.

You set your mug down. “You don’t even know me.”

Seonghwa smiles, not missing a beat. “I’m working on it.”

He leans slightly on the counter, arms still crossed, eyes steady on yours. “But I’ve picked up a few things. You’re the kind of person who checks in on others even when you’re the one having a bad day. You’re a little stubborn when it comes to letting people take care of you - you want to do things yourself. And when you’re tired, you get kind of funny. Like, weirdly funny.”

You laugh under your breath, and so does he.

“And tonight?” His smile softens. “You needed someone. I was close by. That’s all it takes.” There’s no hidden meaning in his voice. No pressure. Just the kind of honesty you’re not used to from a man.

You meet his eyes, and there it is. The kind of tension that doesn’t scream or flirt, it just hums. You glance around his kitchen. The wooden cabinets, the tiny potted herb garden on the windowsill, the slightly chipped mug in front of you. “Your place… it’s not what I expected.”

“Let me guess,” he teases, “you thought it’d be floor-to-ceiling glass, steel counters, and an automatic espresso machine?”

“Something like that.”

He grins. “I like homes that feel lived in. I don’t like that cold, overly-modern stuff. I like that I can comfortably show off my collection of magnets without having to worry if it fits in with the rest of the home.” He points to his fridge and you notice the huge collection of magnets. You let out a soft giggle.

You like that answer too much. You shouldn’t, but you do.

“I like it,” you say softly, not just about the apartment. The warm cup rests between your palms, grounding you, and Seonghwa leans back against the counter beside you, sipping his own. Then, without a word, he sets his mug down and starts rummaging through a cabinet.

You squint at him. “What are you doing?”

He glances over his shoulder with a small, almost mischievous smile. “We’re making cookies.”

You blink. “We are?”

“We are now,” he says simply, already pulling out a bag of flour.

You let out a soft laugh and step up beside him. You don’t ask if he needs help. You just join in. And he doesn’t say anything, just gives you a smile so gentle. Ten minutes later, the kitchen is a disaster.

The butter refuses to cooperate, slipping through your fingers and plopping to the floor. You try again, and this time it sticks to your hands so stubbornly that Seonghwa has to come to your rescue, giggling as he wipes it off with a spatula.

“Here,” he says, a soft chuckle escaping him. “Let’s try that again.” 

You giggle, brushing hair out of your face. “I swear, never make cookies.” 

“Oh, I can tell,” he teases, but there’s no judgment in his tone, only encouragement. “It’s okay. It’s the thought that counts.”

Later, flour explodes from the bag as it’s accidentally knocked over. It snows down across the counter, your arms, his shirt. You both freeze, and then burst into laughter. A moment later, the chocolate chips spill, scattering everywhere. 

Eventually, you both give up, the half-mixed dough resting lopsided in the bowl. You sat on the counter, legs swinging slightly as Seonghwa stood beside you. The bowl rests on your lap as he hands you a spoonful of raw dough, and you take it without hesitation.

“I think we killed it.” Seonghwa says proudly, scooping up some cookie dough for himself, using the same spoon.

“This might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” you say around a mouthful. You sit side by side in the wreckage of flour and chocolate chips, warm tea forgotten, sharing bites of something that didn’t quite turn out the way it was supposed to, but still feels like a win.

You’re mid-laugh when he pauses, his eyes softening as they settle on you. Without a word, he steps a little closer, and his hand lifts. Gentle and careful.

“There’s a little…” he murmurs, brushing his fingers just above your eyebrow, where a streak of flour has settled. His thumb grazes your skin as he wipes it away, but he doesn’t pull back right away.

His touch lingers.

You feel it all the way down to your spine. His warmth, the closeness, the way his eyes briefly drop to your lips before meeting your gaze again. The air feels thick, like something unsaid is pressing at the edges of the moment. 

“Got it,” he says quietly. But he doesn’t move. And neither do you.

You’re still perched on the counter, his body angled toward yours, only a breath between you. He leans in slightly, gaze dropping again, first to your lips, then back up to your eyes, like he’s asking without words.

You lean in too.

Your knees bump against his hips, and your breath catches, held in your chest like it’s afraid to break the moment. His hands finds the counter next to you, grounding him, pulling him even closer. So close you can count every faint freckle on his skin. So close his breath hits your cheek.

And your phone rings.

Loud. Sharp. Invasive.

You freeze.

The moment shatters like glass.

Seonghwa pulls back slowly, but his hand stays on the counter near you, and he doesn’t turn away. Your phone rings again, and your eyes flick to the screen.

“Husband.”

You swallow hard, something sinking in your chest. Seonghwa doesn't say anything. He just watches, his expression soft but unreadable, and steps back enough to give you space. Not far, just enough. You hesitate for half a second. Then you slide off the counter, still warm from where your knees had brushed against him, and answer.

“Hello?” Your voice is thinner than you meant it to be.

He turns away, not out of anger, not even disappointment, just… quiet. Respectful. Still the same steady, gentle man, already reaching for the dish towel to start wiping flour from the counter like he’s giving you time. Giving you privacy.

But the warmth between you hasn’t disappeared.

It just simmers now, quiet and unsaid. Still there. Still waiting.

You murmur a few short replies into the phone, keeping your tone neutral. You hang up a moment later, your fingers still loosely wrapped around the device, like you’re not quite sure what to do with it. Seonghwa glances at you, not questioning, not pressing. Just that same soft-eyed look, like he sees everything without needing it explained.

You clear your throat and set the phone down on the far end of the counter. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay.” His voice is quiet. He offers you the tiniest smile. “You didn’t miss much. The cookie dough was starting to melt anyway.”

You laugh under your breath, and he smiles a little wider.

“I should… probably get going soon,” you say.

“Yeah.” He nods slowly, “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll give you a ride.”

You change into your old clothes, now warm and dry after Seonghwa took care of it. You finish tying your shoes and glance up at him. His movements are calm, deliberate, like he’s giving you space to process, to gather yourself. His gentleness is almost too much to handle right now, and you wonder if he knows how much he’s doing, just being there. Just being himself.

The drive back to your place is calm, the city lights flickering by as Seonghwa keeps his focus on the road, his hand steady on the wheel. Every now and then, his eyes flicker toward you, like he’s checking, making sure you’re okay. 

When he finally pulls up to your house, you hesitate for a second before opening the door. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, “You really made my day.” and finally, and he offers you that smile of his. It’s small, but it reaches his eyes. 

“Anytime,” he replies softly, as if there’s no question.

You step out of the car, the door closing behind you with a soft click. You stand there for a moment, watching his headlights fade into the distance, a quiet warmth settling in your chest.

***

A week has passed since that night. The one where everything had almost felt like it could change. The small, sweet moments that lingered in the kitchen, the silent tension, and that quiet brush of his fingers against your face. But you hadn’t really spoken much after that.

Seonghwa had been giving you space. He never pressed, never pushed, just sent a message here and there, something light, something simple. Asking how your day was, letting you know he was there if you needed to talk. It was as though he understood the weight on your shoulders, the things you were still trying to process, and he respected that.

You’d found comfort in those texts. They were a gentle reminder that there was still kindness out there, that not all men were careless or indifferent. But you hadn’t been ready to dive into anything more. Not yet.

So you let the days pass, lost in work and the usual noise of life, where everything felt like it was moving forward and standing still all at once.

When you walk into the house that evening, expecting to be alone, the air feels too still. Almost oppressive. You take off your shoes, drop your bag, and then, suddenly, you hear it.

Moans.

Loud and unmistakable.

Your heart skips a beat. The noise comes from the bedroom.

You freeze, panic washes over you in a way you never thought you’d feel. The reality hits harder than a slap, and before your mind can catch up to your body, your feet are already moving, silent, quick, out the door.

Your husband. With her.

The woman he’d been seeing for months. The one you knew about. From his work. The one he swore wouldn’t ever step foot in your bedroom.

But she had. They had.

The rules didn’t matter now.

You can barely remember how you made it out of the house, your heart pounding like it’s trying to escape your ribs. You don’t stop to think. You just grab your coat and rush outside, the cold air stinging your cheeks. You get on the bus, not thinking clearly or caring about anything other than getting away.

Away to the last place that felt safe.

Seonghwa opens the door looking completely confused in a loose hoodie and gray sweatpants, as if he’s been lounging or about to sleep. His hair is slightly tousled, his face soft with surprise, but when he sees you standing there, shaking and crying, everything about him changes.

His eyes widens, his body tensing as if his instincts slammed into overdrive.

“Hey-..hey, what’s going on?” His voice cracks a little, pure concern bleeding through. “Are you-, are you okay? What happened?” He barely waits for an answer before stepping forward, one hand reaching out like he’s afraid to startle you, the other already pulling the door wider. “Come in. Come here. Please.”

You don’t even remember how you’d made it to his place. You didn’t call, didn’t text, didn’t even know where else to go. You are just… there. Your legs moved on their own. He gently takes your wrist, guiding you inside like he thought you might fall apart if he let go. And maybe you would.

“I-I didn’t know where else to go,” you whisper, your voice trembling so much the words barely came out. “I walked in and they were… in the bedroom. Our bedroom. I heard her, and him-”

Your breath hitched. The shame, the heartbreak, the betrayal all crashed into you again like a tidal wave. Seonghwa freeze, his face shifting from confusion to something like disbelief, followed by an ache so deep it flickered across his features before he could hide it.

“You’re shaking,” he breathes, like that was the only thing he could focus on to keep himself from doing something rash. “Gosh-, come here.”

Then he pulls you in. Not tentative. Not gentle like before. But firm. Warm. Protective. His arms wrap around you completely, hands cradling the back of your head, the middle of your back, holding you like he was trying to piece you back together with just his embrace.

You broke.

The sob that escaped you was raw, tearing through your chest as you collapsed against him. His hoodie quickly dampened with your tears, but he didn’t care. He only held you tighter.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers into your hair, over and over again, his voice thick, arms unyielding. “I’m so sorry. I’ve got you, okay? I’ve got you.”

A few hours passed. The silence of the apartment is heavy, and the soft hum of the city outside filters in through the windows, but none of it seems to matter. Seonghwa sits on the edge of the couch, his gaze fixed on you as you sleep, curled up with a blanket around you. Seonghwa didn’t move you. He wouldn’t dare. Your face is peaceful now, but he knows, he saw the remnants of the tears still streaked on your cheeks.

He watches you for a long moment, longer than he should have, just to be sure you were breathing easy, that your face wasn’t tight with the pain you’d carried in. He adjust the blanket around your shoulders once more, fingers brushing your arm like a silent promise: I’m here.

Then he slips away into the kitchen.

The lights are dim. He doesn’t turn on the overheads. Only the small one above the sink cast a quiet glow, painting gold over the counter and the delicate steam curling from the mug of tea he never ended up drinking.

He cleans slowly. Methodically. Not because there is much to clean, but because he needs to do something with his hands. He needs to focus on anything but the image of you curled on his couch with your cheeks still damp from crying. Something about seeing you so hurt, so vulnerable in his home, keeps his chest tight and his thoughts moving. He wants to be nearby, just in case you wake up and need him. 

He didn’t know what to do when you broke. His instinct was to hold you, to gather you up and shelter you from everything, but he’d hesitated. Not because he didn’t want to. God, he wanted to, but because he didn’t know if it was what you needed.

You are still married. Still healing. Still so fragile it makes his chest ache.

And yet, he can’t stop thinking about how you came here. To him. Not a friend. Not a hotel. Him.

What did that mean?

What could it mean?

He’s still standing at the sink, drying his hands on a dish towel, when he hears the soft shuffle of your footsteps behind him. You’re quiet, hesitant, still wearing the same clothes from earlier. Sleep clinging to your features, eyes puffy, hair slightly mussed, your voice rough when you speak.

“Seonghwa?”

He turns once.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, barely looking at him. “For just… showing up. For staying. I didn’t mean to take up your whole night.”

Seonghwa sets the tea towel down gently and shakes his head “You didn’t take anything,” he said. “I’m glad you’re here.”

You look at him, startled by how easily he says it, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like there was nowhere else he’d rather have you.

“I feel ridiculous,” you say quietly, fingers curling around the edge of the counter. “Showing up here. Crying like that. Falling asleep like a mess on your couch.”

Seonghwa looks up from the sink where he’s rinsing a cup, then reaches for the towel draped nearby to dry it. He moves slowly, deliberately, as if not to startle you. “You’re not a mess,” he says. “You’re human. And tonight was… a lot. You shouldn’t have had to hear that. Especially not in your own home.”

You nod once, lips press tight, your eyes tracing the pattern of the granite countertop.

“I guess I just didn’t expect it to hurt like that,” you whisper. “I agreed to this open marriage, I knew what it meant. All he had to do was follow the simple rules we made; let the other person know when you’re dating someone and don’t bring them into the bedroom. But hearing them like that… it was like everything I’d been pretending not to feel came crashing in.”

He steps a little closer, still drying the mug but slowing as he listens.

You look up at him then, eyes glassy. “I didn’t mean to bring it all here.”

“You didn’t bring anything but yourself,” he says, voice softer now. “And for what it’s worth… I’m glad you came. I’ve only seen you a few times, but I-” He hesitated, then smiled faintly, “I wouldn’t have wanted you to go anywhere else tonight.”

Your chest tightens. Something in his words, his expression, the way he stands there drying a cup like it was the only way he can keep his hands from holding you.

“I don’t know what it is about you,” he adds, glancing down at the towel in his hand, placing the cup on the counter. “But when I saw you at my door, I didn’t feel interrupted. I felt relieved.” he huffs a quiet breath, laughing under it, ”I didn’t want anyone else to be the one you went to. Is that selfish? Maybe. But—”

He didn’t get to finish.

The towel was halfway folded in his hands when you moved.

Three fast steps.

Your fingers gripped the front of his shirt, pulled him down before he could process what was happening, and you kissed him.

Hard. Needy. Quietly desperate.

You needed to. You needed to feel if this was more than just you feeling crazy. Could you really find safety in someone who isn’t your husband? How could this man you’ve met 3 times the past two weeks, be the most thoughtful and supportive person in your life at the moment?

The towel slips from his hand, landing forgotten on the kitchen floor. He kisses you back like it’s the most natural thing in the world, hands finding your cheeks, pulling you close without hesitation. The warmth of him spreads through you instantly, grounding, solid, safe.

You don’t speak.

Neither does he.

Not until the kiss breaks, just enough for breath.

“I…” you whisper, suddenly unsure.

He smiles, gently, almost in disbelief. “You caught me off guard.” He’s smiling, eyes warm, his thumb brushing your side like he can’t stop touching you now that he’s started. 

“I don’t know why I did that,” you whisper, nervous now, terrified he might say it was too soon. 

“It’s okay,” he says. “I’m really glad you did it.” His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with hunger, and you can feel the weight of his desire pressing against you, but there was hesitation, just a flicker of it.

You mumble the words, barely loud enough for either of you to hear. “Is this... too fast?”

A beat passed. Then another. 

“No,” he says softly, his thumb brushing your cheek. “Not if it’s you. Not if you’re the one reaching for me.”

Your breath catches, the lump in your throat returning. Not from grief this time, but from something gentler. Something like hope. 

“You set the pace. I’ll follow.”

And he means it. Every word.

You reach for him again, pulling him in. The kiss is firmer this time, your lips claiming his with more urgency, your hands curling into the fabric of his shirt as if you couldn’t get close enough. He groans into your mouth, his hands tightening around your waist, as if holding you in place is the only thing keeping him from losing control.

Your hands slid by the hem of his shirt, fingertips barely grazing over his warm skin, and you feel him tense beneath your touch. His breath hitches, but he doesn’t pull away.

“Fuck,” he rasp. “I’m barely holding on.”

“Good,” you whisper, and lean up to kiss him again.

His hands are on your waist, his grip tight, but there is still a slight hesitation in him. It’s as if he was torn between wanting to be the good guy, wanting to respect your boundaries, and the overwhelming, suffocating need to give in to everything you’re offering. His lips meet yours again, deeper this time, and the kiss is frantic, hungry, as though he can’t get close enough, can’t touch you enough.

You barely register your back hitting the edge of the kitchen island until his hands curl under your thighs and lift you effortlessly. You gasp, startled by the sudden motion, but his strength… the ease of it, the way he settles you gently onto the counter like you’re precious, it makes you shiver.

You wrap your legs around his hips instantly, locking your heels at the small of his back, and it pushes him in deeper, his length perfectly aligned with the ache between your legs.

The moment your bodies aligned, you both gasped.

You feel him.

Thick and full and undeniably hard, straining against the soft gray fabric of his sweatpants. He’s pressed right against your center, the outline of him so vivid you can practically trace it with your eyes.

You gasp. He curses. 

“I can see you,” you whisper, voice wrecked, eyes flicking down to where his sweatpants clung to him, every thick inch outlined and throbbing. “You’re so hard.”

He lets out a strangled groan. “Don’t say that. Don’t fucking say that-”

You can't help but grind once against his member, and you whimper as his hips rolled forward, slow and deep. His cock drags up the seam of your heat, the head catching perfectly where your clit throbs. It’s too much and not enough. The layers between you only made it worse.

He feels you. Wet, warm, pressed against the inside of your panties, where your thin leggings clings like a second skin, doing nothing to hide how badly you want him. His mouth crashes onto yours, and it was different this time, no hesitation, no restraint. Just teeth and tongue and desperation. Your hands were in his hair now, tugging, dragging him closer. He presses against you, hard enough to make you moan, and God, you feel him, thick, hard, straining against his pants.

But something occupies your mind.

“Wait,” You keep your legs wrapped around him. You don’t let go. Immediately, he stills. His breathing ragging, chest rising and falling against yours. His hands are warm on your thighs where they rest, thumbs rubbing soft, slow circles into your skin like he’s grounding you. His forehead presses gently against yours, both of you still catching your breath. 

“I want to,” you admitted, your voice wrecked. “So bad. But I need… I need to say it first. To him.”

Him. Your Husband.

For the first time in months, you hated that your husband was in your mind right now. 

His gaze lifts to yours instantly, and for a second, you brace yourself for disappointment. But it never comes.

He nods. “I know,” he pulls back and kisses your forehead. “Just because he broke your rules does not mean you should do it too.” He’s way quicker to understand than you’ve ever imagined. He’s too good.

“I’m sorry… I really want to.” You say, finding his eyes. “But I feel like I have to tell him that I’m seeing someone, let alone his boss, before I do something.”

“Hey,” he cups your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin, the warmest eyes you’ve ever met. “You don’t have to explain, I totally understand.”

You try smiling but it doesn't quite reach your eyes. “It’s not you. I’m just not in the right headspace, and if we did this right now, I think I’d just… think too much. Regret it. Not because of you! But because of everything else.”

“I know,” he says gently, brushing your hair back with a touch that’s nothing short of reverent. “You don’t have to decide anything right now. If you want to do this or not. Whatever you end up deciding, I’ll respect. But if you decide you want to do this, with me sometime, I don’t want you to feel any pressure. I’m not going anywhere, I’ll wait for you.”

And God. That. That is the thing. He isn’t demanding. He isn’t jealous. He isn’t angry or annoyed or trying to guilt you into a decision.

He just understand.

“You’re kind,” you say, swallowing the lump in your throat. “You’re really fucking kind.” 

A silence fills the space between you, your gaze dropping down to where your bodies meet. You look up at him, cheeks flushed. “If I hadn’t said stop… would you have?”

His eyes darkens. He smile, not cocky. But honest.

“Not a chance in hell.” The weight behind those words makes your chest ache. “Can I do anything for you?” 

You glance down at yourself, then let out a soft, embarrassed laugh. “I probably need a shower. I look like someone who lost a fight to her own life.”

He grins at that, easing back just enough to slide his hands to your waist. Before you can say another word, he’s lifting you down from the counter with a firm but gentle grip, like you’re something precious, and threading his fingers through yours.

“Come on,” he murmurs, tugging you softly. “Shower. I’ll get everything ready.”

You trail behind him to the bathroom, your hand still tucked in his. He moves around the space with practiced ease, grabbing towels, adjusting the water, and even laying out the same sweatpants and oversized t-shirt you wore the last time you were here.

When he places them carefully on the counter, he gives you one last glance, warm and soft. “Take your time, your clothes are on the counter. I’ll be in the living room when you’re done.”

You nod, suddenly overwhelmed in a completely different way. “Seonghwa?”

He pauses in the doorway, looking back at you.

“Thank you. For… not making this weird.”

His smile is soft, patient. “It’s not weird. It’s okay.”

A few minutes later, you’re still in his bathroom, the warmth of the steam and the quiet hum of the fan giving you a moment to breathe. To be alone and let the water rinse some of it away. Not the pain of today, but the weight of it, just for a moment.

You change into the familiar sweatpants and soft T-shirt he left folded neatly by the sink. They still smell like him. When you open the door again, the hallway’s dim, and the softest light glows from the living room. 

He’s sitting on the couch, one arm resting over the back, a blanket already draped across the cushions, like he’s been preparing your little corner of the world for you. 

“Perfect timing,” he says, patting the space beside him with a grin that’s equal parts teasing and gentle. “I was about to start a movie without you and pretend I didn’t.”

You laugh, your heart lighter already. And as you cross the room and curl into his side beneath the blanket, it’s not the movie that matters. It’s the feeling that you’re safe here, with him.

And for the first time in a long time, that’s more than enough.

***

The boardroom is quiet when Seonghwa walks in the next day.

He’s always early, by design. It gives him time to breathe, to set the tone, to sit at the head of the glass table with everything already in place. His laptop is open, a black pen lined up perfectly beside his notepad, and his eyes skim the agenda, though he already knows it. But his focus isn’t on the day’s schedule.

Not yet.

It’s still on you.

Not the way you looked when you walked into his apartment yesterday. Exhausted, crying, your whole body weighed down by things you hadn’t said yet, but the way you looked curled up against him hours later, asleep on his couch, tucked into his side beneath a blanket like you’d always belonged there.

You had cried. You had kissed him. You had let him hold you. He’d kissed the crown of your head.

And he didn’t sleep much that night.

Not because you didn’t let him, if anything, you were warm and quiet, breathing slow against him. It was the way you felt in his arms that kept him awake. Like he was holding something fragile and sacred. Like if he moved, even slightly, you might disappear.

In the morning, you stirred first. Groggy and quiet, blinking sleepily against his chest before murmuring something about needing to go home and change before work. He offered to take the day off. Said he could cancel everything. That he didn’t care.

But you shook your head with a tiny smile. Insisted that he go.

You even teased him for hovering. Called him “overly attentive.” He’d rolled his eyes, pretending to be annoyed, but when you leaned in and kissed him goodbye, soft and sleepy, he nearly asked you to stay.

But you left. And he watched the door long after it closed behind you.

Now he’s here. Under sterile lighting. A boardroom full of chatter. And across the table sits the man who used to be your husband in everything but legality.

He walked in laughing - with her - like it’s just another Thursday. The girlfriend is practically attached to him, all smiles and subtle touches, like they don’t work under the same roof. Like they’re not sneaking around as if people haven’t noticed. Seonghwa doesn’t look up immediately. Just lets his fingers tap softly against the side of his coffee cup. 

Measured. Calm. Focused.

“Morning,” your husband says with that too-casual tone, like everything’s perfectly fine.

“Morning,” Seonghwa replies, flat and cool.

He doesn’t do anger like most people. It simmers quietly in him, contained, controlled. He doesn’t lash out. He remembers. He watches. He files things away until the time is right.

Today’s not the day.

But he is watching.

The meeting starts. The others file in, small talk filling the space. Projector humming, documents shuffling. Seonghwa opens the presentation. Keeps his voice even.

“I’d like to keep today’s meeting brief,” he says, voice smooth and low. “We’re focusing on timelines, project deliverables, and accountability.”

His gaze flicks to your husband. The pause is barely a second too long. “Especially accountability.”

There's a flicker in the man’s expression. He shifts in his seat, coughs once like he’s about to make a joke, but one look from Seonghwa shuts him down. The meeting ticks forward. 

Then your husband speaks up.

“I think the delay in deliverables came down to a lack of communication, not really our fault,” he says, flashing a grin at his girlfriend like she’ll have his back.

She does.

But Seonghwa is already leaning forward, calm but sharp. “And who was responsible for communicating that timeline to the vendors?”

Silence.

Your husband clears his throat. “Well… technically, I was. But-”

“Then let’s not redirect blame.” Seonghwa’s voice doesn’t rise. It never needs to. “If you were the lead, you’re accountable. End of story.”

The table goes quiet. The girlfriend shifts awkwardly. And your husband, he looks like he wants to argue but doesn’t dare.

Good.

Seonghwa could say more. So much more. He could talk about how you came to him last night after being ignored for months. How you told him things you never said to anyone. How you almost gave yourself to him. How you let him hold you, warm you, kiss you, keep you safe. How you fell asleep against him like he was the only place you felt okay.

He could say how he’s never going to forgive this man for not seeing you. For making you feel small. For letting you cry alone in your kitchen while he flirted with someone new on the clock.

But Seonghwa keeps it inside.

He lets the meeting run its course. Makes his points. Keeps his composure. Because no one knows what you are to him.

Yet.

And when it’s finally over, he gathers his papers slowly. Closes his laptop with care. And doesn’t look back once.

Because there’s something about seeing that man across from him, pretending like he still owns your heart, when Seonghwa knows what it feels like to have you kiss him good morning, in nothing but his hoodie, after a night of quiet healing.

He’s not done protecting you.

And your husband? He doesn’t even realize he already lost.

TAGLIST: I only have one main taglist, so if you wish to be added/removed, then let me know! xx @lveegsoi  @vixensss  @yizhou-time  @imgenieforyou-boy @life-is-a-game-of-thrones @ateezswonderland @cozypaint @blutiny @aerangi @arigakittyo @femaholicc @queenofdumbfuckery @mingiatz @hwaskookies @vent-stink @desanslogique @taestrwbrry @hannahstacos

[nochepsicodelica]

"All those drinks are gonna do you dirty, ma. You're gonna throw up if you don't get some food in your system, so eat," Toji says, pushing the box closer to you.

You giggle at his serious face, before standing up from your chair for the fourth time, trying to go around him. Toji's used to this by now and stands up, bringing you back down to your chair.

"Stop getting up and eat your food. You literally begged for this. Why aren't you eating it?"

"Why aren't you eating it?" You return, raising your brows at him, seductively. It doesn't come off too sexy when raising your eyebrows makes you immediately squint because of the light going into your sensitive eyes, but it does lure a chuckle out of Toji.

"I'm ignoring that. Just eat. I don't wanna hear you upchucking in a couple hours."

"You won't hold my hair back?" You pout. Your feigned little flash of sadness produces real tears in this state, so it's a little confusing for Toji when you start giggling while wiping at your reddened cheeks.

"Your food's getting cold. I know how you are about reheating fast food, so eat it before it goes to waste."

You smile at him, your eyelids almost completely shut in your drunken daze. Toji can't even lie, it's cute. It's the only reason he's not up the wall about this little situation. Then you decide to drop a bomb on him.

"I'm not hungry anymore. Too tired to eat." You rest your chin on your palm, shutting your eyes. It feels nice. It would take less than thirty seconds for you to fall asleep.

Fuck. Think, think, think...

"Hey." Toji pokes your forehead, lightly, earning a hum and a furrow of your brows. "What if I feed you?"

You laugh, giddily. "Ooo, you trying to romance me?"

"Sure, if you eat."

You laugh again. "Toji, you dog, you. I'm not putting out." You shake your head, eyes closed with a dumb grin on your face. "No, sir. It's food and then goodnight for me."

"You already put out for me, earlier, doll." He smirks at the way you blush, clearly having an 'oh, yeah...' moment. "Eat some more so we can go to sleep."

"Hm?" You hum, rolling your eyes open after your blink of sleep. You crack a grin as soon as you look at Toji. "You wanna kiss me sooo bad. Look at you."

"I'm not gonna kiss you. You're not listening. You think you deserve kisses for that?"

"Uh... yes? I mean no. Pshhh, nooo. Of course, not."

"That's right. So eat, or you'll go to sleep without kisses, tonight."

"Noooo," you whine, dramatically. "Wait! Fine, fine. Look." You take a huge bite of your sandwich, your cheeks puffing up as you chew. "Oh, this is really good," you say, muffled by your mouthful of food.

"Don't choke, doll. Small bites are fine," he says, picking up a napkin and wiping the excess condiments off your face.

You push through it and gulp down the bite. "That was a lot. Got bread stuck on the roof of my mouth." You take a sip of your drink to wash it all down. "Did I look so pretty for the party, today?" You ask, your lips curling as you put the cup back down.

"You did, mama. Stunning. Swept everyone there, off their feet."

You smile, the gesture transitioning into a giggle. "Even Shiu?"

"Yup. Even Shiu said he wanted a piece of you."

You gasp. "No... Did you fight him?"

"Nah, I wanted to, but I kept my cool. If he had put his hands on you, then I might have, but I had my eye on you all night, to make sure nobody did more than look at you."

"I wouldn't have followed him anywhere, anyway." You roll your eyes, suddenly so hostile against the host of the party. "Probably would've kicked him in the nuts and gone to find you."

"Yeah, that's a smart idea, doll."

Toji's elaborate answers to your questions kept you awake long enough for you to mindlessly eat while he talked. You were at the end of the sandwich when you realized how much you had eaten and how full you were.

"Can't... do it..." You groan, lying on the arm you have extended on the table. "Too full." You sigh, heavily, setting the rest of the sandwich down on the scattered fries in its box.

"That's good, ma. You don't have to eat it, anymore. We can go to bed, now."

You let out another heavy sigh, sluggishness washing over you before you force yourself to stand up from your chair, this time with Toji's 'okay'. He looks at your little belly as it protrudes from your dress, proof of how full you actually are, and pokes at it. Your usually soft tummy is temporarily stiff and it's adorable.

You grab Toji's hand so that you don't stumble as you walk. Before leaving the table, he finished the remainder of your sandwich in one bite and threw out the container with the remaining cold fries.

"Damn, you were right, baby. That was good."

"Mhm," you mumble, waiting for him to lead you to the room.

Toji helped you brush your teeth and wash your face, and when you finally made it to the room, he helped you dress down into comfier clothes. Now, you're in bed together and you're in his arms trying to doze off, but you can't with the way he's smothering your face with kisses. It's just kiss after kiss with him and you can't focus, but it is what you wanted. After all, you stuffed your face for this.

[ponett]

Any opinion on the Pokemon Gigaleak or nah?

I think seeing some of the WIP assets from when gen 3 was in development is kinda neat, because Game Freak is normally so secretive about that kind of thing. But beyond that I mostly just find this whole situation tiring.

Fans have a tendency to almost treat scrapped material as "more canon" than whatever actually made it into the finished product, in a way. It's treated as this pure, unfiltered insight into the creators' true vision. In reality, most of the time this stuff gets cut for a reason. Sometimes they very quickly realize it was a bad idea that was never gonna work, and they don't go very far with it. Sometimes it's a pitch from just one guy on the team that was never gonna get accepted. Sometimes they're just spitballing. Experimentation and iteration and knowing when to cut things are integral parts of the artistic process.

And hell, a lot of the time creators will just mess around with an idea purely as a creative exercise, or to get an idea out of their system, or to explore a crazy what-if scenario, or even just as a joke, with no intention of ever actually using those ideas. We recently saw this same thing happened with those leaked Rebecca Sugar sketches, where people were like "OMG Rebecca ships this, this is what they REALLY wanted to do with the show, this is canon, this was happening off-screen!!" And it's like, y'all have no idea how much crazy shit your favorite artists draw with their characters just to amuse themselves. The crew on Clarence had a not-so-secret Tumblr where they redrew scenes from Evangelion with Clarence characters. That doesn't mean they wanted to turn Clarence into Eva. They were just screwing around. This happens all the time, and with way more extreme examples than these. Lord knows how many Disney animators have drawn Mickey Mouse with his dick out over the years. That doesn't mean they ever actually wanted to make an official Mickey Mouse porno.

And, of course, there's the response to those myths that were never supposed to see the light of day. Anyone who's even passingly familiar with mythology from just about any part of the world shouldn't be surprised to hear fables about humans and animals having babies or whatever. But now people are responding to those unused stories and going "OMG Game Freak is a bunch of gooners who want humans and Pokemon to have sex!! This is canon!!!" It's so fucking tiring. So much of the modern internet, particularly Twitter, is driven by people who just want an excuse to whip out their favorite shocked/disgusted reaction image and ham up their reaction to something that isn't actually all that shocking. Everyone just wants to get their funny dunks in and feign moral superiority. It's childish. And it's because of reactions like this that this stuff was never supposed to see the light of day in the first place. But fans feel like they're owed every single shred of info from the development of their favorite franchises, so these leaks happen and people run wild with them.

(It also doesn't help that this is all just sourced back to a 4chan thread, so people were posting fake shit between the real leaks and muddying the waters. And also most of it is in Japanese, so people are just sticking documents through Google Translate and going "whooooaaaa this is canon")