#I think to recall? Which is pretty interesting especially considering I think to recall the girl was an Archiviste

[jacksintention]

.

[anxious-witch]

I think the reason why there are so many amazing ships in Dead Boy Detectives is because the show manages to show different versions of love/lust/devotion through different relationships all characters have.

Like, love triangles have been doing the whole "a girl has to choose between two guys who each being out a different side of her" for over a decade in popular media, some more, some less successfully. But the pitfall they often fall into is that those differences seem very shallow and often ignore the other aspect of the main person who have to choose between the love interests.

Dead Boy Detectives makes sure to not do that.

When we look at how Charles is with Crystal vs how he is with Edwin, we can clearly see the difference. In the beginning of his and Crystal's dynamic, he is flirtier and puts more if a bravado, but he pretty quickly opens up to her. Because he sees that she very quickly sees past his facade he puts up with his constant happy-go-lucky persona. Only when he starts opening up to her and showing his emotions does their relationship progress. Because after David, Crystal needs someone who can be emotionally vulnerable with her and in turn, Charles offers her the same, and offers her a safe space.

In contrast, we see that Charles is more at ease around Edwin. They know each other deeply, and are also woven into each other at this point. It's easy, like breathing. One thing it doesn't do is challenge either of them from the status quo they have built over the years. But there is a sense of ease there, and such devotion. There is no question about what they would do for each other because the answer is everything.

That said, while they both bring out different sides of Charles, those sides of him feel intricately linked to one another! Which is why Crystal coming into the pictures begins changing Charles' relationship with Edwin as well! It brings to light things they have ignored. And in turn, Charles' clear and unwavering devotion and loyalty to Edwin prompts Crystal to learn it herself. To quote Jenny in ep 8, "you were about to leave and never see these boys again, but now you are going to save them"? And yes, she does exactly that.

This even has influence on Edwin and Crystal's rs directly, which I can't recall ever seeing in a love triangle before, at least not in a positive sense. But it's so clear that Charles loves both of them that the other learns to love them too, and they realize their own similarities through it, too!

As for Edwin and his many love interests, well. I know there has been a lot of debate, especially around Cat King vs Charles dyankics with Edwin, but the thing is-you are comparing apples ajd oranges here.

The Cat King is enamored, fascinated by Edwin, and yeah above all, attracted to him. This dynamic serves to challenge both of their characters' beliefs and shake up the power dynamics between them. Whenever you like the Cat King or not Edwin clearly reciprocates the attraction part, at the very least.

Charles loves Edwin and is devoted to him and Edwin to him turn, as discussed above. What is difficult about their relationship is that it became stagnant due to lack of communication, which is why they needed other relationships to shake up that dynamic.

But to address the most prominent comparison I saw, which is the Cat King saying he'll wait for Edwin vs Charles going to Hell to save him.

Both are types of devotion, is the thing. A profession of love, if you will. To this day, we consider Penelope a faithful, loving and devoted wife for waiting for Odyssey for 20 years. Cat King saying he'd wait for Edwin isn't any small confession, given he is aware it could take decades, if not more.

Don't get me wrong, Charles going to literal Hell to save Edwin and succeeding where Orpheus and Eurydice failed is an enormous success and a way to show you love someone. I am not minimalizing that at all.

I am just saying that, for who these characters are and given their rs with Edwin, they did exactly what they were supposed to. They expressed in which ways Edwin had influenced them and what they can offer him if that dynamic becomes romantic.

Cat King represents experience, patience. As an immortal he has all the time in the world to wait for Edwin to return from hell, because he believes Edwin is strong enough to return on his own.

Charles represents love that breaks all obstacles in their way. He goes to save Edwin because he believes Edwin deserves to be helped in the way he helps others. He deserves to be saved.

My point is, there is no better of worse way of loving someone. The character in the love triangle choose the person that better alignes with who they are and who they wish to be as a person. So yes, you are absolutely allowed to say "I think this character would choose person a because it alignes better with their character development" but comparing the two as one being superior is kinda pointless imo? Exploring different dynamic of a character is the goal here, right? Either through canon or fanon.

...I was gonna talk about Crystal/Niko and Edwin/Monty too but this post got away from me to uhh. Might do another one if anyone is interested but in their way! I adore the way DBDA explores different sides of characters while still making them feel like a fully rounded person and doesn't shy away from letting one rs influence other rs character has.

[beefycupcakes]

I watched the Cars trilogy recently and with that came a wave of nostalgia and a strange desire to make my own designs for the cars as humans. Aka taking all the charm out of Cars but scratching the brain itch.

So, no need to drag out the intro any longer, I have some notes written out about em for those who might be interested or just bored.

Lightning McQueen:

I tried to make his suit look as professional as possible, with references pulled straight from McQueen's paint job/stickers, while also keeping in mind that I do intend to draw him more so I didn't want to go too crazy with the design. In a perfect world I would've let my maximalist cravings win, but alas let's keep it digestible for my sanity.

I feel like everyone's kinda on this unspoken agreement that McQueen as a human would pretty much look just like Owen Wilson, and that's the big picture here. I used Wilson as inspiration while tweaking and exaggerating a few things to my preference. (Okay, well not everyone, lmao.)

The chevron markings on the front cut off at the side seams not wrapping around the entire suit as to not clash with the sponsor logo on the back.

Also, he's wearing special gloves to help him grip & have control over the steering wheel. I think sometimes that looks a little weird when his sleeves are down & cuffed, but I just feel like he needs to have the gloves there— especially when he comes out of the top half of the suit. (It's also lowkey supposed to mirror his 4 tires when you consider his shoes are also black.)

So yeah, that's basically all I have to to say regarding Lightning McQueen's page. I feel like a lot of my design choices are self explanatory and, honestly probably shared universally... I mean, he's really cut & dry. (But I love him ⚡︎)

▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

Mater:

I'm not gonna lie, Mater was a bit challenging for me. I definitely had to step out of my comfort zone but I wanted to stay true to the character and not butcher anything.

My first thought was to give him a fishing pole to substitute for the tow hook— but then the more I was thinking about it, the more that felt so... out of place? Radiator Springs is in Arizona, which is (not entirely, but mostly depicted in the movie as) a desert. And even though there are beautiful bodies of water in Arizona, in the movie I don't recall seeing any prominent ones, at least in relation to Mater. So, scratch that, instead I gave him a lasso, which isn't supposed to entirely substitute for the tow truck— no, he still drives a tow truck, but the lasso is so he can grab people/things similarly to Tow Truck Mater (very cartoony). My explanation for this is the cattle ranch. Yeah, Mater is a tow truck driver but perhaps he has a side hustle, or hobby, if you will.

Also, I didn't want to make him... dirty(??) Like, yeah, of course, Mater would obviously get a bit filthy from time to time, it's just in his nature, but that is NOT going to be the core of my design. In regards to the rust happening on him, I felt like instead I would substitute this with being very tan. Again, Arizona is a desert. Because of this, he would take off his shirt often, and this would substitute for the missing hood like on Tow Truck Mater. The removal of the shirt also reveals just how tan Mater actually is.

It's his uniformed overalls that have his original aqua color, but from years of wear & tear they've been patched up with brown patches, this would also reference the rusting. The one strap is supposed to mimic the one headlight being broken, and I know that's a stretch, believe me, I wanted to do something with his eyes but eyes are not the headlights in the Cars universe..... think about this. Think about it really hard... if you know what the headlights are in the Cars universe then this actually makes perfect sense.

He is taller and wider than McQueen, which is a reference to the literal frame of their vehicle counterparts. (A little hard to picture with these images, but eventually I'll draw them together!)

▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

That's all I have to say really, but do let me know what you guys think! Gas it up and it might encourage me to make a part 2 with some of the other characters! Who would you like to see next? ♡ Thank you so much for reading & have a great day, Kachow!!

[yukipri]

So, I binged The Acolyte last night.

I had a mental block and couldn't get myself to start while it was coming out, and I also haven't touched any High Republic era media before which made me hesitant. But the spoilers/gifs/fanart etc I saw convinced me I should give it a try.

I'm not a huge fan of binging, I like sitting and thinking with each episode, so I expected to just watch an episode or two, give it a day or so, then continue if I liked it.

But, to my great surprise, once I started, I couldn't really stop (aaand stayed up till 7 AM, oops).

I think it had several things going for it:

-The acting was genuinely phenomenal. I feel like I would have felt completely differently about the show if different actors had been involved, and i mean that more strongly than I usually do. Their delivery in certain moments really sold me.

-It's not your usual Star Wars genre. I'd consider it mystery/suspense with a touch of horror, and it really does come together. Some of the characters are experience a more stereotypical Star Wars action/adventure story, but are jerked out of their genre at certain moments. It's pretty neat, and makes the twists fun and interesting (even if you were completely spoiled beforehand, like me lol)

-The costumes were gorgeous and unique.

-Some truly gorgeous cinematography, shots that have beautiful composition and lighting.

-It was rich in lore and references, some from Legends that I caught, many from the High Republic that I didn't catch but appreciated nonetheless. It felt deeply connected to the SW Universe.

-While cynical, the writing says things that I've thought about but never really thought Star Wars would have the guts to say. The writing is also Tight, meaning that little moments of character interactions bring up things that will be necessary/helpful to the plot later, and I appreciated that. There felt like very little waste.

-There are genuinely no "good" or "bad" guys. Every character makes mistakes or has horrible qualities, yet also positive ones. We see and understand motives, even if we don't agree with them, and see the fallout of those actions. This made almost everyone compelling. The narrative and writing gives the audience space to think.

Things that I wasn't as much a fan of:

-I felt like most of the sets felt kind of generic and Earth-like, especially in comparison to the rich costumes and alien characters.

-There are some fantastic fight scenes and emotional scenes, where the acting and cinematography was fantastic, but I wish the music had been a bit more memorable. I can't really recall any of it, and I feel like there were scenes that could have been truly iconic had the music resounded more with me.

Now, some more specific thoughts, SPOILERS below:

On Sol:

Sol is a character who, I believe in most cases, I would have absolutely despised. But holy shit, Lee Jung-jae. I am not exaggerating when I say that his performance is perhaps one of the best, if not THE best performances I've ever seen in live action Star Wars. He played this character so tenderly, so genuinely.

Despite being misguided, having made terrible decisions, and making mistakes that even he acknowledges, Sol himself always truly thought he was doing what was right, and loved Osha with his whole being even at the end, and it Shows. The way he looks at Osha was so sincere.

This is why I can't get myself to hate Sol as a character. It makes me feel so conflicted, like how can a guy with so much love and genuine desire to help and do good go so wrong? And that, I think, is one of the major points of the show, and Lee Jung-jae absolutely sells it. What a phenomenal actor. You could genuinely watch this show for him alone.

On Osha/Mae:

When the first info/promos for Acolyte came out and Amandla Stenberg was announced as the main character, I admit I was a bit confused. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't that I thought she couldn't act, but it's just that her face is so kind. She looks so warm (and gosh, she's so beautiful), but it made me go hmm, she looks like a Good Guy Protag, a Hero, so I was a bit confused as to how she was going to lead "the Acolyte," which from the title, I assumed she'd be Dark Side. Even with the early promo scenes of Mae fighting Indara, I wasn't really sold on her being "Dark."

And it turns out, that was exactly the point of the casting.

Amandla was perfect, and was brilliant at portraying two characters who not only have different and distinct personalities, but also both shift and change throughout the show. Mae never came off as "Dark" to me, because she isn't. Osha's not necessarily Light OR Dark, but she's independent. They are balanced, yet cycling, reminiscent of that little palm-to-palm circling ritual that the girls do. Amandla's portrayal of them was poetry, and made me so very invested in them.

I think if there's one thing I really wish the show had included more of, it's both Osha and Mae's pasts between their tragic separation and their reunion in the present. What was Osha's Padawan-ship actually like? I feel like the exact reason for the timing of her leaving the Order was ambiguous, and I wanted to know more. And was Mae with "the Master" the entire time?

I truly wish Osha could have heard the full story from Sol, because of his many crimes, ironically, killing her mother really was a genuine accident. There are things I wish he could have apologized to her for, or that she could have understood about him, such as how that night at the coven was largely driven by how Sol felt connected to her. This is one part where, while I get how the writers went this way, I do wish I could have felt more closure to their relationship.

I found it so tragic that Qimir erased Mae's memories and they had to be separated so soon after finally understanding each other. I really hope that if there's a season 2, they can be reunited.

On Qimir:

Preface by saying I was spoiled regarding his identity long before I started, by all those thirsty posts/tweets. And man, I GET IT.

But thirst magnet aside, I found him a genuinely fascinating character. For one thing, he's kind of an ironic character to *be* a Darksider. He seems so chill and laid-back, is honorable (or at least keeps his word), and despite his words about using emotions to harness energy, we don't really see him passionately mad/anything really. In contrast, the Jedi we see around him are furious, scared, sad. It's interesting that he almost seems more calm, but not necessarily because he's trying: he just doesn't care.

Manny Jacinto's portrayal of the character made him so damn Likable. Which, is pretty hard to reconcile with the fact that I genuinely liked Jecki and Yord, but a lot of his lines make me just go, y'know he's got a point. Like the whole, "She was a child," "You brought her here." Like yeah. Honestly, fair. His little quips, the delivery, the I'm-just-a-chill-dude attitude, actually keeps his word, and on the flip side, undeniable ruthless skill and viciousness that took down a whole team of Jedi single-handedly. It's a very BRRRRRR combo.

In general, I don't really get too attached to "Dark Side" characters, and don't really have a favorite Sith. Or at least, I didn't, but I think Qimir (or whatever his actually name is) might claim that spot now. Truly peak character, I truly hope we get to see more with him.

And this is kind of an aside, but can I just say, it felt unreal to have entire fight sequences focussing on just two Asian actors, with the other protagonist we see a black girl, for huge chunks of the show? No white people except comparatively brief side characters? In a Star Wars show?!?? All of them unique and well fleshed out and phenomenally written and acted?? None of it felt like "forced diversity," it's all so natural, that when I step back and thought about it in these terms it just...again, feels unreal. I'm so grateful for these characters, and hope we get more like them.

On Jecki and Yord:

Honestly given what I saw about Yord before hand, I was expecting him to be far more annoying than he was. Sure, he was a little stiff, but he felt like a young Jedi Knight who was trying to prove himself and do his best, and I think he very clearly did care for Osha.

Jecki, gosh I loved her. She felt very similar to Ahsoka, if a bit more by the book. She was very wise for her youth. I loved the budding friendship between her and Osha, how they helped each other and weren't jealous.

The thing about both of these characters, which I think the writers did so well, is that they felt like protagonists. In another story, they would have been the main characters, the heroes. Both of them were so young, so early in their training/careers. They could have become Obi-Wans, Ahsokas. Jecki especially was bursting with so much potential.

But alas, this was not that story. It makes it that much shocking when their lives are cut so abruptly short. We were given time to get to know these characters, to care for them, and then without much fanfare, boom. Gone.

On one hand, I sorta Hate That. On the other, I deeply respect the writers for going there, because I think it did have an Impact on the story and show.

On the Witches/Mother Aniseya:

Admittedly I was a little ehhhhh on some of the world-building regarding the witches, just the use of the words "witch" and "coven" and some of the chanting with gasping cackling women etc felt a bit caricature. I do get that they wanted us to have a vibe for this group and to get one with limited screentime, and sometimes stereotypes are the way to do that. I didn't love it, but also didn't mind it too much.

I actually really loved Mother Aniseya. For one thing, the actress is Gorgeous, her costume stunning, and she really sold the whole otherworldly ethereal immortal goddess vibe well, in a way that still felt Star Wars. For the other, I liked how she was the soft, empathetic one, it kinda contrasted with expectation of her position.

I also loved Mother Koril, and how again, she was designed as a character foil to Mother Aniseya. I love how we didn't see too much of them, but could still see that they were partners who loved and respected each other (I hesitate to say "wives," because I feel like their society may not exactly have the same concept of marriage, but partners was undeniable). I think it was a neat Oh moment when they stated that Mother Koril is the one who carried the twins. Love them.

I know I'll have more thoughts, but yeah, to sum it up, I enjoyed Acolyte a ton more than I thought i would, and am so glad I gave it a chance.

Other things:

-Mentioned earlier that I love "little moments of character interactions bring up things that will be necessary/helpful to the plot later." Some actual examples of this: When we see Sol noticing Osha's tattoo and Osha saying he must hate it, which in the moment, shows the kind of guardian-student relationship they have, and how little seems to have changed for them in the time they've been a part. Later, it's shown to clearly identify Osha after Mae steals her clothes. Another is the rolly polly moth things, which at first seem just like a way to show This Forest Dangerous, but then are a plot point to temporarily escape from Qimir, and later on, to show Vernestra's connection to the Force (and also her light whip). Stuff like that, I really like.

-I so appreciated Qimir's Cortosis helmet. For one thing, it's neat that it's not just cool-looking or a disguise, but actually is Force-blocking. I think an official SW account factoid said that this is also how beskar works, though beskar is stronger. The two effects this has: when the user is wearing it, they're forced to confront what's inside of them. The other, is that it hides the wearer's identity from Force users who would otherwise recognize them. The latter is my personal headcanon for beskar helmets, so it's very gratifying to see it in canon! The former has some interesting implications for Force-users who wear beskar.

-The cynical view of the Jedi Order as an Institution, and all the politics, corruption, and obscuring of dirt that that entails. Admittedly this may be because of my own increasingly cynical perspective on the Order, but it felt honest and I agreed with most of it. The fact that individuals are trying their best to do "good" does not negate the fact that they are pretty much acting as Space Cops. This line by Senator Rayencourt felt especially raw:

"I think the Jedi are a massive system of unchecked power, posing as a religion, a delusional cult that claims to claim the uncontrollable. [] Your emotions."

Framed as a religion having unchecked power—that feels uncomfortably realistic! And also zeroing in on how for all their power, the Jedi are still people, and just as fallible (and therefore, must necessarily be held just as accountable).

Also:

I can see how this portrayal of the Jedi may make some folks uncomfortable, especially if you love the Jedi, but I long hold that the Jedi as an organization are deeply flawed. It's part of why I personally like the "fall of the Republic" era; both the Galactic Republic and Jedi Order have deep, fatal flaws, and this is an era where that all comes to a head—one where they must fall, or fix themselves.

So in conclusion, my favorite parts: the characters, and the moral grayness of almost everyone. Many stories may claim there's no good/evil dichotomy, but few ever truly show it, but this one did.

I'm not sure yet if I want to "fandom" over this or if I'm pretty satisfied with having just watched it, but it was definitely worth the watch and I'm glad I gave it a try!

~~

~~

I also kept a lil document of live reaction notes as I was watching, which I'll copy below:

Episode 1

UEDA?? The planet is just, UEDA?? A pretty common Japanese surname?? That's like. Naming a planet Johnson or somethin...

Loving the costumes 'n set

Oh wait I recognize this scene, it's the one they played as a preview at the AMC Star Wars marathon

Idk how to feel about the Space Generic T-Shirt

Ooh Neimoidians (thank you for no horrendously exaggerated Evil Japanese Accent TM), and interesting Jedi ship shape

Oh interesting interesting they intentionally paralleling TPM eh

Hrmn not a positive first impression of Master Vernestra, her lines are so mechanical

Very cool pilot chair droids and tentacle alien

Osha says practice vehicle safety and wear seatbelts and protect your head!

Oh Osha has Trauma I see. Girl ain't getting good sleep

Oh wow Sol Loves Osha, oh no is this going to lead to Padawan Jealousy Trauma between Osha and Jecki. How much are we heavily paralleling TPM here

Kill the dream eh?

Episode 2

Oh there are multiple Jedi temples, that's nice

Jedi Temple using same security system as Jabba is...uh

Mae tips, good for her

Master Torbin just sittin' there, lookin like some random youtuber. why tabi socks

Man I dig Mae's patchwork cloak with massive princess hood.

It's pronounced KAI-meer??? My Chinese ass thought it was Chee-mir

Barash Vow

Ohhh so Mae doesn't know that Qimir...? (was spoiled)

Episode 3

ooh i like the fairy clione things

Ohhh village all women??

Mother Aniseya is stunning

Oh she and Koril blatantly lesbian, fantastic

Oh gosh the Jedi are NOT looking good here. They don't have the right to train children?? WTF

You must let the children take the test?? And if they pass the Jedi will take them away??? That does NOT sound very consensual!!

Oh gosh, selling "you are special" to a child, after separating her from her community...

Really feel like "how does taking a child away affect their community" should be factored into jedi stuff

Mae that is...sudden and violent wtf

Kinda not trusting Sol here

Episode 4

Wow Kelnacca looks...mentally stable

Ohhh Qimir's ship? Looks suspiciously Kylo Ren-ish

Qimir really suspicious eh

Oh wow not using the Force or anything, just using a sniffy guy

They're really doing a Fellowship of the Ring walk huh

Look I absolutely adore Mae's long gorgeous cloak but that is going to drag half the forest floor with her

Not liking those tree bulbs. looks spider eggy

Osha don't Touch the Thing, that's such a Pippin move

oh no, not spider eggs...rolly polly moth vampire thing

Really enjoying Osha and Jecki's friendship, I'm so glad it's not former Padawan jealousy

Oh, Mae, oh no....knowing spoilers...oh...

The red lightsaber igniting next to Osha's head...dang what fantastic composition

The lil hand twitch and head snap. I Get It.

I remember when "Darth Teeth" was trending

And wow that's a Cliffhanger

Episode 5

Oh no Osha knocked out that doesn't bode well

How many against one is that damn

The double spear through then hidden head lop...wow

holy shit booma-saber

Oooooh the cut treeeeees damn

all that death before even the opening title

Honestly GO JECKI, that's very impressive, her win against Mae AND double saber against Darth Teeth, Anakin level spinning and drama

Holy shit Jecki's death was brutal...

She was a child - You brought her here - FAIR

Why risk discovery - I did wear a mask LMAO

Damn did he just casually break Mae's leg

I don't make the rules - the Jedi do

The Jedi say I can't exist...wow

Holy shit Yord's death

Damn full on brawl

I've accepted my darkness, what have you done with yours

Damn really yeeted Qimir from the fight by sticking a light on his back

Pip tho ;_; killin droids feels like killin pets...

They've turned you against me - really Anakin quotin

Wow Sol, not even going to see Jecki????

And wtf how can Sol not tell that Mae's switched them??? Has fandom been grossly misunderstanding how the Jedi use the Force....how the fuck can any Jedi tell apart any clones eh...

While not exactly subtle, I appreciate how lil details in character interactions have had pay offs. Like the tree bugs and Osha's tattoo being a way to identify her

Episode 6

He really just makin a hot pot

his lair kinda looks like sequels Luke's island

Not sure how I feel about the elephant rock bird things

Honestly glad we get to see Sol upset and affected by everyone's deaths. Might explain part of why he can't tell apart the twins?

Oh he's really wearing hakama hakama

Wow Qimir really just getting in buck naked eh. Is this the scene that Manny froze his balls off for

His line about it being fine in a fight but vengeance a few hours later

Oh he brought a change of clothes

Damn the Jedi are taught "it fades"???

Aww Osha, u aren't tempted by the soup??

Oh wow we revisiting bodies, that feels...u usual for SW. Oh there's a Kel Dor... (why are there no flies buzzing yet. or are there no flies yet)

Mae wakes up so peacefully compared to Osha

Oooh sensory deprivation mask, all dark, nothing but breathing, evocative of Darth Vader even if breathing is not similar

Episode 7

Vergence....iiiiinteresting

Sol, stalking lil kids is creepy af

Oh my god you're just gonna break in???

See - You cannot deny the Jedi have a right to test potential Padawans - Why the fuck not???? You don't have the right to stalk, spy on, break into random people's homes, and talk directly to their children without permission from guardians??

Guh Sol....

Interrogation after isolation from guardians....

Oh, the Jedi Council is right for once??

Do not alter this little girl's destiny because you have formed an emotional attachment to her

Gosh I thought Indara was the most innocent in this buuuuut

Episode 8

I'm surprised they never added Darth Teeth's mask to the front credits

"See you in hell" Oh I know Han mentioned Hell like once but I thought they were avoiding mentioning it in newer media

Holy shit Rayencourt: I think the Jedi are a massive system of unchecked power, posing as a religion, a delusional cult that claims to claim the uncontrollable. - Kinda uncomfortably real!!

-We don't control the Force - no, your emotions - OOF

I didn't realize till this ep how the cool Brendok eclipse got that line, it's the comet ring. super neat

oof Mae climbing out of the scene of Trauma...

Oh that is some Wu Xia shit

"I will destroy you if i must" really??

Nice dagger saber

Okay Sol that is Cool

oh gosh, the plot-relevant inversion of clothes resulting in it reflecting how they swapped light/dark is SO cool

very yin yang fighting

Damn it keeps coming down to the unarmed opponent thing

Damn, Mae going the justice route

Damn, just Damn

Gosh the thing about Sol is that he is SO well acted, so sincere in his love and devotion, it's hard to hate him

I'm glad the helmets block the Force identity like that tho, fits headcanon

Glad Basil continues to shine

Oh no. Vernestra...I thought you were doing the right thing revealing the truth, but instead you're continuing the cycle of covering up crimes

Oh...use Mae to find Vernestra's former Padawan...that's a cycle alright

And ends with Yoda okay

[platonically-loving-alastor]

Aroace Alastor

Hoo boy here we go- This one might make some people mad at me, so I'll preface by saying I do not want to start a fight and as long as you respect my business, I'll respect yours. But let's get this over with-

First off, I genuinely don't understand how some people can see the Ace-In-The-Hole quote and still believe that Alastor is only intended to be asexual and not also aromantic. Yes, the term Rosie used for purpose of the pun was 'ace', but can we look at the context of that moment before jumping to conclusions?

Rosie, motioning to Charlie: "Oh, who's this you brought with you? Come now, Alastor, she's much too young for you! Oh, I'm just kidding. I know you're an ace in the hole!"

Her original statement implies nothing sexual, only that he's involved in a relationship with Charlie, and she follows it up with why she knows that couldn't be because he's an 'ace in the hole'. I don't think you have to read too far between the lines to see that.

I would also like to say that when Vivienne has spoken about his orientation before, I recall her saying that she didn't want to confirm him being aromantic so that she wouldn't 'ruin anyone's fun', which I just feel like is an odd thing to say if she wasn't already explicitly picturing him as aroace. If she thought he had romantic attraction, why wouldn't she just say that? What fun would that ruin? I also feel like keeping things like this ambiguous just to appease the shippers is a little weird, but I digress-

And to those of you who I know are saying "But aromantic people can be in relationships too!!" *deep inhale* yeah I know. I'm not gonna pretend you're not right about that, but there are also aroace people who have exactly 0 interest in romance or sex at all. This is the part of the post that really is based on how I interpret certain moments, but to me he is absolutely one of those people. I don't really know where people get any vibes of him being interested in that stuff. I have never once looked at him and thought "Yeah I could see him in a romantic relationship with *insert character here*". Even aside from attraction in general, since that's what we'd be talking about at this point anyway, he just seems like the kind of guy who'd rather work and live independently instead of relying on anyone, whether practically or emotionally (which is also probably part of the reason he never joined the Vees, but that's another topic entirely). Hell, I'm pretty sure he's in heavy denial about even developing any kind of care or friendship with the people at the hotel (ie. the episode 8 scene with him and Niffty).

The only ships I see him involved in with people he doesn't hate (so ignoring RadioApple, RadioHusk, and StaticRadio. But to be real, maybe the fact all his main ships are enemies to lovers coded says something about the whole situation, but that's just me-) are Charlastor - which I will not even try to discuss here, people aren't gonna like this post as it is - and RadioRose. Rosie and him would at least be fair, if it weren't for one thing (which is also personal opinion on my end), and I don't know exactly how to word it. I'm tempted to say she has wingwoman vibes? But she knows he's aro, so that's not the right word, but there's vibes of like, she probably did act as a wingwoman before she realized that about him or something.. There's also something about her joking around like "Oh this is the girl? You have a girlfriend and I'm only now meeting her?" is almost giving motherly behavior. Idk man they're just besties to me, I could see them in a QPR though (not that they'd probably label it that way, considering the word queerplatonic is likely just complete gibberish to Alastor lmao).

So to summarize: It feels incredibly likely, if not practically canon, that Alastor was written with aromanticism in mind, even if Vivienne refuses to explicitly state it. Subtext and not-that-subtle implications can say just as much about a character as word of God, especially when that God has explicitly told us why she won't confirm or deny this information. Do I think any of this will stop people from shipping him romantically with literally any other character? No ofc it won't, and that's okay, that's just what fandoms do. I do think there's something to say for the fact the one aroace (or even at the very least asexual) character gets constantly shipped with everyone else in the cast, but this post is long enough I think. The only point of posting this is that I wanted to get information out there in one post to say "Hey, let's look a little bit past the surface for a second before saying there's no proof of him being aromantic"

Anyway, thanks for reading, I hope you at least took something away from this

[hyperactivewhore]

Sorry if this is a weird question but I would want to hear someone else opinion on a matter that i hadn't pay much attention at the first time but now its really interesting..What your opinion on the fact that Klaus Mikaelson seems to be into B.D.S.M? It was kinda stated by Aurora but I don't remember the episode. Or about kol and Rebekah ,they also gives me vibes that they are into B.D.S.M too ,i cant really explain it. I never saw someone adressing this topic.

It's not a weird question, don't worry, especially when it comes to discussing the Mikaelson siblings.

Yes, you're correct, Aurora did state Klaus was into BDSM in 3x07 of The Originals and the line was "Oh, how you loathe me, so certain I've come to do you harm. Yet, as I recall, we did plenty of harm to each other. And, if I'm not mistaken, we both rather liked it, didn't we?". For me, it's not a surprise Klaus behaves that way sexually. He's desperate to be in control of everything, of course that would apply to his sexual/romantic partners as well, and with how his parents made him feel and the added bonus of his hybrid state, it's very much in character for him, at least in my opinion.

But, if I'm being honest, I mainly think Aurora just meant to let clear he likes to hurt the person he's having sex with - with their consent, obviously. Make them find pleasure in their pain, which really relates to his personal life and his personal experiences for me. Of all the Mikaelson (and honestly, all the tvdu characters) I believe Klaus is the roughest when it comes to sex, which it's quite ironic considering vampires have the highest sex drive yet Klaus is seen getting nearly no action.

Kol and Rebekah do give those vibes as well, especially Kol. I believe Rebekah is more of a merciless tease, while Kol just loves to make you cry (in the good sense). Elijah, in the other hand, seems pretty vanilla to me, just like Stefan and Caroline. Damon likes to paint himself as some kind of sex god, and yet Elena looked so ready to laugh sometimes when he talked dirty to her. Hayley, in all of her sex scenes, is always being absolutely manhandled and getting thrown into walls/tables/any surface available, so it's safe to assume she's into a more rough aspect of sex as well, which of course, makes sense considering she's a werewolf.

I'm so sorry it took me this long to answer! It was a funny ask, though.

[candyfloss-kittens]

22 years….

I've known of the trio for… as long as I can remember, given my dad would watch them way back when they were still on Top Gear. I don't know when Top Gear first aired on TV in New Zealand, I guess when the show first started to get popular world wide? I don't know…. Though, I do have some very vague recollections of seeing news reports about Hammond's big crash back in 2006 when I was 8, but I really don't know. I might've just heard of it back then, not necessarily seen anything about it.

Now, while I had watched bits of Top Gear over the years, and back in primary school, I'd tend to hang more around boys at school rather than girls (I do recall at one point with the desk layouts I was the only girl in one group alongside five other boys), and if I recall correctly, a lot of them would talk about Top Gear. I think I might've even watched some of Top Gear with one of my closest childhood friends many years ago, we might've even watched the Botswana special together when it first aired in NZ, though I genuinely can't remember if that actually happened or not (my memory is… not great). But given me and him did do a lot of things together, and we were both interested in most of the same things, it's possible (I've not seen that old friend in years now, though. Last I heard, he's got three kids…).

I do remember back in 2015 hearing about Jeremy essentially being fired from the BBC, and James and Richard leaving alongside him. Though, I cannot remember what my thoughts on that while situation was, given I at the time I didn't care about them.

It wasn't until late 2021 that I actually started getting into Clarkson, Hammond, and May. I think right as the Grand Tour's Carnage A Trois released. Pretty sure it was a result of some YouTube compilation of the trio popping up on my YouTube feed. At like 1:30am in the morning after i had gotten home from working night shift at my previous job at a mussel factory (that has unfortunately, and frustratingly, now closed down). How, when I've never been interested in cars at all, I have no idea. Then I started mostly just watching YouTube compilation videos of them after work before getting to bed. Then, I had ended up finding a copy of one of the sampler DVDs that came with the Top Gear magazines, the Supercars one, at one of the op shops near me for $2. I kind of just… fell head first into the trio after that. Buying every book and DVD of theirs that I could find, which was a lot easier than I had thought. Found many of my TG books and DVDs at the op shops near me (still had to get a few online, though, because some weren't easy to find, like May's Cars of the People).

Then at one point, I got curious about if there was fanfic written about them. I'm no stranger to rpf fanfic, so while I was surprised to find that there is, I sort of expected there to be? Because if it exists, there's bound to be fanfic for it. What was a surprise though, is just how into writing fanfic of the trio I got. Especially considering at the time I was trying to move away from writing rpf. So, thanks for that, guys.

I still find myself curious whether or not the guys know that there's fanfic about them, and what their thoughts are on it, though. I'd like to think that they just don't give a fuck, because surely if they had a problem with it (if they're aware of it), then they would've said something about it by now.

So… yeah. Known of them since forever, but never really cared much for them until late 2021 at 23. And now in 2024, at 26, I'm still very much into them, despite not really caring about cars (with the exception of collecting die-cast cars, and putting together model kit cars). I don't even have my driver's license.

While I definitely got into the fandom late, it's been very fun. And in terms of my Ao3 fics for the trio, I still have many more ideas to come, so even though the Grand Tour has now ended, I'm not going to be stopping writing fic for them anytime soon. And definitely won't stop me from finishing off my collection of all their books and DVDs they've released over the years.

[hanibalistic]

WHO YOU ARE, WHO I AM | LEE MINHO.

genre | fluff, angst, (semi) slow burn / arranged marriage au / strangers to lovers / 4th wall break

synopsis | when you wake up to a good-looking man who claims to be your husband, there isn’t much to do aside from assuming you got stuck in a drama.

word count | 24.7k+

warning | car crash / mention of injuries / not edited since the first time i posted this story ​

parts | one, two, three

Minho waited anxiously at the table. His fingers tapping rhythmically against the thick table cloth, which was long enough to drape over his shaking knees. His eyes glanced from one side of the restaurant to the other, not so much making observations as his mind was occupied with thoughts of his own. 

He did not get a lick of sleep yesterday night. He stayed up staring at the dim ceiling, recalling everything you told him and reevaluating all his decisions for his marriage. And he has come to an understanding that your sudden awakening was nothing short of a blessing to him. It was a route to guide him to a happier marriage, considering you had not been yearning for the divorce papers when you two saw each other during breakfast this morning.

But despite that, Minho knew he has to be careful with every step he takes onward from this point. Just because you haven’t been actively asking to be divorced did not mean your heart would be set on him and that you would be sitting quietly and waiting for him to be better. The ring sitting in his pocket was kept as a reminder that someone else could very well snatch you away from him any second.

He scowled at the thought, especially when Changbin posed as the greatest enemy at the moment. He reevaluated this jealousy to be a sign of possession rather than love. To be fair, he didn’t think he was ever in love with you. He cared about you, an extension of his responsibilities in this arranged marriage. But he was never in love with you. Not like you were with him. You’ve snapped away from that now. He has never been in love with anyone else either. Perhaps the biggest reason why he was willing to work through this was that he knew nobody else would catch his interest. Nobody has. 

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he jumped at the intrusion. Pulling it out, he didn’t bother to look at the caller before he accepted the call and greeted with a hushed, annoyed tone.

“Stop frowning, Minho. Your face will get stuck like that.”

Minho perked up at your voice. He did another scan around the restaurant and his frown only deepened when he could not find you anywhere. You giggled on the other end, your surprised voice coming through rather staticky as you spoke, “I said don’t frown and you go ahead and frown even more!”

He relaxed into himself upon your careless laughter. Scoffing out a short laugh, he spoke, “Tell me a joke then I might just laugh.”

“A joke? Okay.” You rolled your eyes. “You know who invited me to lunch today? You.”

The joke did not receive the reaction you were hoping for. What you expected would be a sardonic smile turned out to be a remorseful grimace and a flash of guilt before those pretty eyes of his. You gasped out in shock, your eyes widening as you immediately moved out of your hiding spot and approached the table he sat at.

“I’m sorry. I genuinely thought that would be funny,” you said as your feet tapped their way across the marble floor. When you were finally of reach, you hung up the phone and sat across from him. Perking up, you gave him a brief nod before quickly diving into the real deal. “Wait, give me another chance. I have something really funny to say.”

Minho didn’t speak. He nodded at you and sat there waiting for a joke to be delivered to him patiently.

“Okay, why do cows have hooves instead of feet?”

Minho blinked at you and tilted his head. “Because they lactose.”

He wasn’t supposed to get that. You assumed that he would give you a legitimate answer, something knowledgeable and scientific. Then you would jokingly scold him for not having a sense of humor before you tell him the punchline, and then he would laugh and you could regain your throne as the God of Humor.

You pursed your lips as you stared him down, then you pressed your lips into a scowl. “You weren’t supposed to tell me the punchline.”

“Then why did you ask me?”

“I gotta start the joke somehow!” you retorted.

Minho allowed himself to find your frustration more endearing than unfair, but still, he suppressed a burst of laughter from bubbling up his throat when you started to throw that mini tantrum of yours.

“Okay, don’t be mad,” he laughed as he reached to the middle of the table and pushed the small basket of bread towards you. “Here, eat some breadsticks.”

Your eyes trailed down to the basket and they widened in excitement. You jumped slightly in your seat, almost pouncing over to get the bread the was only a few inches away from you. “Oh wow, these are one of those places that serve bread before the appetizers, huh?” you commented as you picked the bread that was fresh out of the oven and coated with the right amount of salt, then you carelessly popped it in your mouth.

Minho nodded, slightly confused at your choice of wording. “Yeah. This is your favorite restaurant, shouldn’t you know?”

Choking on your saliva, you continued to chew on the bread but you covered your mouth to hide the shock that you unexpectedly showed to him. Oh, you really have to be a little more careful with your words. You have almost forgotten that this wasn’t your life, and it would be a pain for anyone to be suspicious of your identity.

“I know, I just was stating the obvious.” You shrugged as a slow smile appeared on your face.

Come to think of it, you knew nothing about Minho. All the memories you have of him were horrible, and they were all new and fresh. None of which you could use to strengthen the idea that you were the real ‘you’ and not somebody who just infiltrated into a stranger’s body. You have been so focused on people problems that you forgot the important goal of gaining relevant information for future references.

“So!” You cleared your throat, clearing your head and settling the brand new goal down in the middle of your head. This would be the perfect time to discreetly learn more about Minho; you just have to be careful with what you say. “How was work this morning?”

Minho did not seem fully convinced about your sudden gentle outburst. You’ve asked him about work before and stopped when he made it clear that it wasn’t your business. This was relatively new, but you acting weird was not a topic he wished to proceed with for the remaining lunch, therefore he didn’t press on and simply flashed you a knowing nod and a reply. “It was fine. The same routine, just different days.”

Well, not only did you have to be careful, you needed to be a little smart with your words too. That answer gave you zero new information.

Smacking your lips obnoxiously, you grabbed the menu that has been sitting on the edge of the table and opened it. Glancing carelessly at the dishes, once again grimacing at the fact that there weren’t any price tag printed on the papers, you asked with a casual tone, “That’s cool. What did you do?”

Minho looked away, thinking. “I just had a meeting with my dad this morning and listened to the departments pitch their new ideas.”

“I think I’ll get the pasta.” You slammed the menu shut upon his vague answer. Putting it down on the table, you folded your hands on the table and glared pointedly at him with a smile that caught Minho off guard. It felt calculating, which was true to its nature. “What kind of ideas?”

“Oh, just the usual things–why do you suddenly want to know?” He furrowed his brows as he asked, tilting his head slightly to the side. “You have never asked me about work.”

“I have never? I remember I have before.” You feigned a gasp while you mentally took a note down to not ask him too much about work problems. It wasn’t like you particularly cared about it anyway.

“No, not in detail.” He shook his head, an innocent pout evident on his face. As you hummed thoughtfully, he conveniently added, “I don’t… umm, I don’t hate that you are asking though. Just thought I can tell you.”

His head was turned to the side when he spoke. His face scrunched up and his muscles hardened to express how foreign and uncomfortable it was for him to express his feeling so openly like that. You almost wanted to coo at how adorable he was acting; he was one cheek blush away from being the perfect tsundere.

But, more importantly, you could tell he was trying. Starting from him asking you to have lunch with him this morning, with a surprisingly timid voice and jumpy gaze, to this exact moment. You hadn’t expected him to change—or at least attempt to change—this quickly. All it took was one speech from you! Regardless, you appreciated the effort. With caution tipped only to the side, you chose to give him a generous chance at redemption.

"I am glad that you enjoy my curiosity, and thank you for telling me your truest desire.” You dipped your head playfully and smiled.

Minho mirrored the expression on your face. His head turning to you slowly after seeing that fond smile of yours. He couldn’t pinpoint whether the quirk of your lips was made for him or simply just a part of your response, but he was going to take any positivity he could get out of you.

“You’re welcome,” he said, his eyes grazing past the tablecloth nervously as his mind jittered at what he was about to say. He cleared his throat, pressing his lips together to keep the smile away for a moment before he asked, “So, uh, I am going to be home for dinner today.”

“Hmm, great! Let’s eat together then,” you said with excited eyes, your smile never fading. Then, with a sudden scrunch of your brows, you told him, “I’ll see what I can do about that. You don’t have to get anything.”

“O–oh, yeah, no problem.” Minho nodded, then he added, “Are you going to cook?”

You hummed thoughtfully. You haven’t gotten the time to cook in a while. Back when you were still on your Earth, while knowing how to make food, you lacked sufficient time or energy to actually cook anything, so most days there were only choices of instant noodles or takeout food. You were afraid your skills might be off the scale now.

“I don’t know yet,” you replied, squinting your eyes at him teasingly. “Do you want me to cook you something?”

He held up his hands awkwardly at the sudden attention, a scoff leaving his lips and a flustered blush creeping up his cheeks. You breathed out quietly at his out-of-character reaction. It was either he just suddenly changed overnight or he has been hiding this side of him professionally well for the past few days. Both of these could be possible in a drama, which you still believed was what you got stuck in.

“I didn’t even know you can cook until recently. How can I want to try your food?” Minho said defensively. He let his hands down and snorted with an eye-roll. “I bet it’s garbage anyway.”

Ah. There was the Lee Minho you knew of. You smiled, realizing how atrocious it was to be talking as if you have crossed the mountains and the seas with him when you have only known him for days.

“Hey, my food can be many things. Too sweet, too salty, whatever,” you pointed at him, slightly offended even though he might not be wrong, “but they are not garbage.”

“I wouldn’t know, I’ve never tried it.” He shrugged.

You rolled your eyes, but a smile made its way to your face. This was a ploy—he was discreetly asking for you to make dinner tonight without sounding like he wanted it. Or maybe your assumption was wrong but you would very much like to shower yourself with some attention right now.

“Fine! We’ll see after tonight, Minho,” you said.

“I’ll be anticipating,” he retorted with an arch of his brow, a grin slowly making its way to his way when he saw the childish pout you showed him.

Wasn’t that great? Minho wondered why it took him so long to do this, to just have a normal conversation with you. He really was a spoiled brat. His delusional mind always thought you would love him unconditionally, even without the reciprocation. He was glad to be corrected. He would have continued to be on his snobby path if you hadn’t snapped at him and took the ring off.

You noticed the sudden change of expression on Minho’s face as he stared down at the table. It was guilt-ridden. Twisting your pinky finger, you decided not to say anything and just let him think in peace.

“Okay, hear me out–hey, Minho! Hear me out!” You held back a short laugh when you saw the disappointed look on his face. Gesturing towards the takeout bags on the tea table, you got up from the couch and shook your hands to get his attention.

“I thought you said something about cooking dinner tonight,” Minho muttered under his breath as he placed his bag down on the dining table, then he slowly made his way closer to the couch area so he could stand there gazing down at you with a semi-irritated but ultimately humorous glance. “Whatever happened to that.”

“Well, that’s why I said hear me out, big guy,” you retorted. Once again gesturing towards the takeout bags, you licked your lower lip and explained, “I was planning on cooking dinner but I figured why not have some pizza instead? You’ve never had takeout pizza before, have you?”

Minho furrowed his brows at you in confusion. The things you say kept getting weirder and weirder lately. He was probably a pinch away from getting you to see a psychiatrist. “I have eaten takeout pizza before with my friend.” He shrugged, his eyes darting away as if to recall the memory. “Yeah, during college.”

You hummed, but your grimace disagreed with him. He could have eaten takeout pizza before. But you were almost a hundred percent sure it was one of those extravagant, over-priced, too little cheese and not enough bread kind of pizza. You did not head outside to get one of those; not only were you unaware of any expensive pizza restaurants, you also weren’t interested in having any kind of pizza that wouldn’t grease up your stomach so bad it makes you spend a full day on a toilet. 

What you did, instead, was ask the driver to drive you out to the streets so you could get the kind of pizza you usually get. The oily garbage kind. The kind you eat in front of a television that you couldn’t hear because everyone was talking too loud. The kind that leaves stains on your couch because nobody bothers to use a napkin anymore.

“Trust me, it is not the type you are used to eating.” You beckoned him over to sit next to you on the couch. Reaching over to take out the oily paper boxes and setting them on the tea table, you glanced over to see Minho staring at you unsurely. You sighed, “Sit down, Minho. It’s pizza, not poison.”

“Looks like it to me,” he reluctantly replied, but following your directions, he took off his blazer and neatly folded it over the edge of the couch then he found the spot next to you. His eyes followed as you laid all the food across the table, popped open the cola can, and grabbed the television remote before jumping back onto the couch comfortably.

“It might be poison, but it’s the good kind of poison.” Your eyes fixated on the switching programs, you took a bite out of the big chunk of fries you grabbed with your fist. Though chewing your food, your eyes widened when the drama you wanted to watch finally flipped on, and you carelessly dropped the remote to the side before pointing at the screen. “Oh! Here we go, I have been waiting for this!”

“For what?” Minho followed your gaze and furrowed his brows at the screen. He could recognize the celebrities acting in the show but he had no idea what kind of show it was.

“You’ve never watched it, I figured. Don’t worry, I got the briefing speech down this afternoon.” You reached over to cut out a piece of pizza before pulling out and cutting the stretching cheese. Sitting back on the couch, you propped a leg up and leaned your hot pizza against it. Your eyes were careful on the screen as you waited for each character to appear. “All you need to know is that the suit guy likes the short-haired girl. The girl in the green dress likes the suit guy. Jumper boy is short hair girl’s best friend. You can figure out the rest.”

After explaining, you snorted out a giggle. That plot certainly sounded familiar. It was great to know that the drama within a drama would also be cliché like that.

“I think she is about to get slapped but the guy is gonna come save her. Watch them cut to the hand around the wrist,” you said before taking a big bite of the pizza, your eyes anticipating the plot unfolding in the screen. Sparing a glance towards Minho, you frowned at the way he just awkwardly sat on his spot, eyes glazing past the food on the table with a slight look of distaste.

“Try something. They’re good,” you urged, putting your foot down on the floor and dropping your half-finished pizza on the empty side of the box. You took the liberty of cutting a small piece out, making the round shape uneven but it was for a good cause. Scooting closer to Minho, you moved the food towards his face with a teasing smile. “Come on. It’s good. It’s pizza.”

“That’s fine,” he said, then he pressed his mouth shut and shook his head to refuse the suggestion.

You sighed in faint annoyance. How could this be it? You were supposed to go through the classic montage of teaching the rich boy all about the wondrous world of poor people traditions, starting from deliciously poisonous food, of course. And you two shall bond immensely during the one-minute montage and ultimately, he shall fall head over heels for you.

Not that you particularly care much for whether he falls in love with you. It’s whatever.

“Minho, don’t make me tackle you and force this down your throat.” Your gaze sharpened as you lowered your hands to reveal your face. “Just one small bite. I’ll even play airplane for you if you want.”

“There is no need for that,” he said. “This is ridiculous.”

“Ugh, big words, over a conversation about pizza.” You rolled your eyes. “Just try it. One small bite. If you don’t like it then I’ll finish everything here by myself.”

Minho side-eyed all the food on the table and he snickered, “That’s a lot of grease. You’re gonna get a tummy ache.”

“You underestimate my digestive ability.” You clicked your tongue and glared at him. “Look at you! You got me over here talking about bowel movements!”

“I didn’t force you to say anything regarding that matter.” He shrugged.

Then your mind simply decided it was enough talking for him. He needed something to chew on, and that would be the garbage food you were holding in your hand. Minho seemed to sense the burst of devilish instinct through your arched brows, and he quickly moved back against the couch just as you grinned and crawled on top of his body. You paid zero minds to the position you put yourself in while Minho tried not to think too much about your legs straddling his abdomen as he forced himself to keep his eyes up at your face. You rolled the pizza up as you would fold a piece of bread, curling it into a sandwich-like figure before poking it to Minho’s mouth.

“Come on, Minho, I can’t beg you for too long. This one-minute montage has lasted about a page now,” you whined, shimmering yourself closer to his body by moving your thighs.

The unnoticed friction below forced Minho to open his mouth for a surprised gasp. His eyes widened to stare at you while a heated blush crept onto his cheeks. You took the chance to shove the roll of pizza into his mouth, and all Minho could do was chew on the food. His brows arched as seconds passed, tasing the cheesy food on his tongue and chewing the far too rigid bread.

His hands have found their place at your hips now as he concentrated on the paradoxical food in his mouth, his previous panic mode coming to a halt suddenly. It was bad, he could point out exactly why it was bad too but he liked it somehow. Inhaling a sharp breath, his eyes trailed towards you and he nodded. “I like it.”

A grin broke out then and you clasped your hands together in pure joy. “See? I told you you would like it!”

Minho tried not to smile too much due to the food in his mouth, but you could see his eyes arch into a moon shape and it was enough compensation for the lack of smiley lips. After that, it was just quiet. The only sound being made was from the television; it sounded like the second female lead was crying once again as she desperately spilled out her confession.  

You turned your head over to focus on the screen, your brows slightly furrowed and a grimace appearing once you saw how heartbroken the female lead was. Your expression was not out of sympathy, it was annoyance at the fact that she never stops crying.

While you were watching the people on the screen, Minho was watching you.

Your hands have fallen to his chest, unbeknownst to you. Your fingertips pressing against the fabric of his button-up shirt; just a thin wall until they reach the surface of his warm skin. His fingers fiddled with the hem of your shirt, no ill intentions provided, it was just the force of daydream.

“Ugh, seriously?” you muttered under your breath as your face scrunched up in dismay. “Do you see this shit, Minho? He just kissed her. Disgusting!”

You turned to look at him, catching his gaze immediately. Confusion faded quickly and your belly tightened when it hit you that Minho has been staring at you for the entirety of this moment. Not to mention the rather intimate position you two were seated in. Clenching your fist tightly, you gasped out and quickly prepared to back off his torso.

“Wait–hold on, I have something to ask!” Minho tightened his grip on your hips, his voice urgent.

“What–what? Yeah?” you breathed out.

Minho’s lips started to quiver, a sign of nervousness you could tell. His eyes moved away from you to the television and back to you again. He cleared his throat a few times, his fingers still gently fixing at the hem of your shirt, unknowingly making your heart pump furiously at the tingly sensation.

“I… uh, basically I want to ask… “ he started, “It’s just… if you are okay with it, of course, I would like you to… um, sleep with me?”

You blinked down at him, rubbing the back of your finger near your cupid’s bow as you sniffed. That was an unexpected question but you came prepared for it. While you knew things have changed drastically starting this morning, all the courtesy to the event last night, you didn’t want things to happen too quick and easy for him. Heading back to sleep on the same bed with him, an act that fosters closeness, you were not willing to just hand it to him yet.

Damn. You selfishly smiled to yourself. This is what it feels like to be chased.

“Thank you for the offer, Minho, but… no,” you replied softly, glancing down at him kindly. “Maybe someday soon.”

He nodded at you, disappointment lacing in the heaves of his chest. “Yeah. That’s no problem.”

“But I do want you to know that I am glad about you taking the first step to change,” you said. “And for not making a fool out of me, you know? I was hoping I hadn’t given the chance to the wrong person.”

“Oh, yeah. Totally.” He nodded. “Thank you for letting me know.”

Breathing in the silence, you gave him one last smile before backing off his body once and for all. You returned to your designated spot and pulled your legs close to your chest to make up for the sudden loss of warmth. A small smile played at your lips, you almost felt like you were back in high school talking to your first crush again.

“You’re welcome,” you muttered. “We’ve stalled long enough time. Let’s just eat and watch the soap opera together.”

He nodded in agreement, then he laughed. “I still have no idea what is going on though.”

“No worries, I will fill you in.” You waved your hand at him, tempting him to sit a little closer to you. Looking at the food, an idea popped into your head and you yelped, pressing a fist to your palm. “Ah! How about I make it up to you by making your lunch tomorrow?”

Minho bit his lower lip as he reached in to pick up a piece of pizza, his hand greased up with just a single grip but he couldn’t care less. He bit back a soft smile, only offering you a nod in return, “Yeah, please. I’d love that.”

You watched Changbin pop the last spoonful of kimchi fried rice into his mouth, your mouth creasing up into a smile upon the delicious hum he let out as he dropped the metal spoon onto the bento box carelessly, trying to savor the last taste of your homemade lunch. You made extra this morning when you were preparing the food for Minho’s lunch and you decided why not pack one for Changbin too? That way you could share the food and get some reviews in return.

Killing two birds with one stone. I see you were unusually thriving, [Name]. Why was that, one might wonder?

“Since when did you learn how to cook so well?” Changbin asked when he turned to you, a bunched up piece of tissue in his fist.

Oh great. If Changbin thought the food was good then Minho most likely would too. You did doubt the possibility of him complimenting you on the food straightforwardly, though. He would probably say something irritating first before discreetly slip in some happy words here and there, ones which you would be too annoyed to catch, but that wouldn’t be Minho's problem since he did, in fact, compliment you. He could check that box off.

“I had a lot of free time lately, and I decided why not become an improved version of myself?” You smiled smugly at him. A hand reached up to your shoulder to fake a sassy hair-flip as you hummed in satisfaction. “I am a whole new person now, Changbin. I can cook, I can–” your smiled dimmed funnily–“I don’t know what else I can do but I am sure I will think of something eventually.”

Changbin breathed out a faint giggle, his eyes casting down at the empty bento box in front of him once again. He was reluctant to taste the food you made when you first presented it to him, talking about not needing to go to some expensive restaurant and whineing about receiving a giant plate of a chip-sized spaghetti. It started from him doubting if you actually made it since it looked presentable, and then it was him being suspicious of the taste.

“It was really good. Thank you for making me something,” he said, squishing your cheek casually. His gaze softened when you grinned at him, joyous and genuine in the truest way possible. It made him feel as if he had missed out on something, like all the smiles you have shown him before served no value compared to this one. He sighed, folding his hands together and clearing his throat shyly. “Don’t make this weird but you feel happier lately.”

You tilted your head at him. “I do?”

“Yeah. Well, you have never really come to me about any problems and you were always happy when we hang out. But…” Changbin paused in thoughts, trying to phrase them in the best way possible. “It just feels like you’ve been doing much better than before. Like, I am not insinuating anything about your life and your marriage but you didn’t feel like you were genuinely happy before.”

You would never understand why ‘you’ never talked to Changbin about this broken marriage before and instead chose to talk to Minho’s mother. Even in the dramas that you have watched, books that you have read, the main character always tells their best friend about everything. To a point where it may backfire on them. Or perhaps that was the reason why? The reason why Changbin was not informed of the truth was that they were trying to keep him from causing a scene, from acting on his feelings?

Your brows furrowed. But it didn’t seem like Changbin has feelings for you though? The worst thing that could happen would be him sucker-punching Minho in the midst of a normal conversation because “how dare you treat my best friend like that, you piece of shit!” or something along the lines of that. It wouldn’t be you choosing him over Minho and thus, humiliating the latter with a sudden divorce.

“That is a good thing,” you said. “I am happier, I guess?”

“It is. I am just wondering why?” Changbin questioned. “Did something happen with Minho?”

“Changbin–“ you pressed your mouth shut.

You almost asked if he has feelings for you, just like that, bluntly and honestly. Thank god you caught your tongue before spilling such conceited bullshit. Just because you were the main character of this story didn’t mean you plan to assume your attractiveness just leveled up like that. And you would much rather you hadn’t met anyone’s standard in this world, unlike how most dramas work. You’ve spent your entire life being mediocre at best, too much attention would serve as nothing but a mere nuisance.

With the bottom lip jutted out, you puffed some air into your cheeks just to have something to do while the silence rolled on. Changbin was waiting patiently for an answer, dedicated to knowing whether your change in mood had anything to do with your husband. Your head pounded—technically speaking, it did have something to do with Minho, but even more than him, it had something to do with yourself.

The body switch changed ‘you,’ whoever they were. If your theory was correct, the people back on Earth could possibly be asking the same question depending on how ‘you’ decided to act. Or you could be sleeping, stuck in an unreasonable coma, unmoving and weak. You closed your eyes for a moment. Oh, you could see it, you could see the flashing images!

All the five people you knew being worried sick (or not) about you, the doctors were all gathered together to examine your body in hopes to find the cause of your deep slumber, paparazzi’s roaming outside your room! You better be the talk of the country when you wake up. You wanted to be interviewed, to be taken magazine pictures of! You could write a book about this experience; people would probably call you crazy but how would they be able to explain the coma, huh?

[Name], darling, your thoughts were going awfully off-track. Please spare a moment and take a look at the young and handsome man sitting next to you.

“Well, it might be because of him,” you replied carefully. “But it is mostly me. Like I said, I am improving myself! I am learning things and charging myself with knowledge!”

Changbin stared at you for a prolonged moment and you waited nervously for what he would say. The velocity of the wind was just perfect, blowing at your hair without disrupting the beauty of your features but also a sort of feminine flair to the situation; he was staring at you intently with curious eyes, which was enough to make your heart pound. This felt like the perfect time to say something cheesy and thus, mess up your feelings.

“[Name].”

You flinched invisibly, your eyes widened as a squeak left your pursed lips. You looked at him, asking him to continue.

Changbin laughed. “I just want to make sure you are okay, alright? If Minho ever tries to pull any stunt, you tell me.”

You blanked out for the rest of it, relieved that it was not a confession you heard. It wouldn’t be a problem anyway, you already knew what Changbin would say. Probably something along the lines of “I will hunt him down and kick his ass,” which would always sound romantic coming from a good-looking man but absolutely hilarious coming from an average-looking one. Either way, it did warm your heart to hear that someone cared about you enough to bother standing up for you.

“Thank you,” you said, rolling your eyes up at the sky and looking faraway. Minho popped into your head and a smile graced upon your lips, unbeknownst to you. “But I think Minho is fine. He may not be the best husband but he is trying, and I think I should give him credit for that.”

The way he treated you when you first met him was unreasonable, but at least he took the first step. Instead of ignoring your words and going on to be the asshole he was, thus prompting you to return the favor, he was the first to attempt at a change. You could always stand by the rule of ‘an eye for an eye,’ but sometimes you need to kill the cycle before it kills you.

“Alright then.” Changbin nodded at your reply and he stood up.

“Thank you, seriously,” you said as you stood up from your seat and as he did. Confidently, you reached your arms over his shoulders and pulled him into a tight hug. He pressed his hands to your back without hesitation, engulfing you fully with his (very eye-catching) arms. You could never get used to this—his hugs, absolutely god-sent.

“Thank you for looking out for me,” you said, your voice muffled in his shirt.

“Always.” Changbin rubbed your back, smiling to himself. When he pulled away, he tilted his head with a question. “Wanna get out of here and go shopping?”

You smiled. Spending money? Sounds like fun. 

Wait. Shopping?

You almost forgot about that generous credit card slipped sluggishly between the five one-hundred-dollar bills in your wallet. When Minho heard that you planned to hang out with Changbin today, all he did was quietly take out his wallet and flip the card out for you to take along. You planned to deny the offer at first but as soon as you caught sight of the thick blackness of the card, you knew this was no normal credit card. 

No, no. That was no grocery store credit card. That card could pay off a mortgage loan in full. It was one of those reserved, royal, luxurious card made out of silk and velvet. You were too busy puking blood, sweat, and tears trying to sustain the weight of that one, stupid card that you didn’t even notice the look of dismay Minho flashed you when he reminded you to get home early. You knew he was rich, but you didn’t know he was this rich. What would be next, huh? A private zoo overlooking a private waterfall?

Changbin raised a brow at you, concern plastered on his face when he saw the uncomfortable look on your face. He stepped closer to you and asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, totally.” You nodded, wiping the sweat off your forehead. “Let’s go. Just remind me not to buy anything too expensive.”

He frowned in confusion. “[Name], what? You married Lee Minho. The word expensive doesn’t exist.”

You spent so long chanting ‘eat the rich’ only to end up becoming one of them. “I don’t think it works that way, Changbin.” You laughed sarcastically before pointing to a random direction. “Can we just go get ice cream or boba. Anything normal like that.”

“Yeah–you are being really weird,” he said, patting you on the shoulder. “Are you taking the whole improving yourself thing too far?”

No, definitely not. If anything, you didn’t just get a mild improvement, you got an upgrade.

The first thing Minho did when he got home was to look for you.

He hadn’t thought about why and what he would do. It wasn’t like you would give him a welcome kiss or anything. He just thought seeing you after an eventful day at work would be a breath of fresh air, considering for most of the day, he had been putting up a professional front. He also wanted to thank you for the delicious lunch he spent minutes trying to figure out where he should eat it at.

He placed his shoes neatly by the door so the housekeeper would pick it up and return it back to his closet and walked over to the couch where he lightly dropped his briefcase at the corner. His eyes laid elsewhere, glancing through the kitchen and the dining area to find not one trace of human life anywhere in the living room. The house was eerily quiet too, unlike usual when you would be at home (especially not recently when you’ve started to get so talkative).

Minho heaved a sigh. You had not come back from your friendly date with Changbin yet.  

Glancing up at the television, he let a smile reach his lips as he recalled the pizza night you two had. He remembered being able to relax with you screaming and whining at the screen that night, and how he genuinely liked being able to lay back and feel nothing for a while. Heck, you even managed to get him invested in the episode half-way down. He was huffing and cursing by the end of the cliff hanger.

It was a great experience; simple and lovely. He missed it, quite a lot.

“Oh, Minho! Welcome back!”

He looked up at the housekeeper, strands of her white and black hair falling over her wrinkly face as the aftermath of domestic chores. She was wiping her hands on her jeans and she walked up to Minho, a gentle smile on her face as she said, “[Name] isn’t home yet if that is what you’re wondering.”

“Yeah, I figured,” he said as he reached into his bag and pulled out the wrapped bento box, handing it to the housekeeper politely. “Oh, this is the lunch box if you can wash it for me. Thank you.”

“So you are wondering if they’re home yet?” She took the box in her hands and held it close to her chest, staying on her spot instead of heading straight to the kitchen. Her gentle smile has changed into a knowing smirk, her eyes flashing a rare mischief when she saw the way Minho stuttered with his eyes. “You don’t used to ask for them like this, do you know?”

She was the kind of lady ‘you’ couldn’t fool into thinking the marriage was a good one. Even if she had not been your housekeeper and had not been keeping a careful eye on how you and Minho interact with each other, she would have known just by watching you two stand next to each other. But she kept her mouth shut, for it wasn’t her place to say anything, and for she had faith that something would change eventually.

“Sometimes I just wanna smack you out of it. I could never understand why you were so distant before, even though I can see you are a nice person,” she added. “But I guess I can’t blame everything on you either. Your parents and their parents were too rash.”

Minho pouted slightly at her words. It felt like she was finding excuses for him and it felt wrong. He never knew why he acted so distant either, to be frank, he just knew he started out that way and he had stuck to it for this long. Until you suddenly changed, you had enough of him and snapped back, you took the expected affection and turned it into something he has to earn.

The lady spoke, patting his arm. “But your parents should have given you more time so you can fall in love with them too.”

Minho would have loved you normally, but he was young and he was reckless with sensitivity. Suddenly tying him down with a ring, giving him no choice but to accept and act grateful—it made him go blind with stubbornness and he acted so stupidly in the relationship to prove a point that people would forever be ignorant of.

“How…” He shook his head. “But what if I don’t fall in love with them?”

“Oh, how am I supposed to know? That is in the past now, isn’t it?” she exclaimed, the soft pats on his arm turning into a weak hit. “You enjoy their love, Minho, and you do care. You can admit that. It’s not a bad thing.”

Minho pulled on his fingers, one by one he tugged on them harshly until he reached his ring finger. A gasp breathed from his chest and never out of his mouth, his eyes narrowing uncomfortably as he recalled back when you took yours off and returned it to him. He had it stored carefully in the original box, stuffed to the front of his desk drawer in his workroom.

And suddenly, all he could focus on was to put the ring back on your finger.

A knock came from the big doors, gaining his attention immediately as he turned his head over. Dropping his hands to his side, hope swelling within him, he went over and quickly opened the door only to be left disappointed when he saw that it was Yuna standing before him instead of you. He glanced at the clock slapped around his wrist, his frown deepening as more seconds ticked by without you being home.

“Minho!”

“Hey, Yuna,” he muttered, glancing up from his watch and looking at the girl. “What is it?”

“What is up with your face. Aren’t you at least a little happy to see me?” she questioned, her smile dimming with a faint scoff. She walked inside the house, closing the door on her way in.

“No, not particularly,” Minho replied honestly, sensing nothing wrong with his answer.

Yuna was used to his bluntness by now, but even then she went ahead and kept trying to shorten the bridge Minho set up between the two of them. Her progress wasn’t obvious, she couldn’t even be sure if she had made any type of progress. But one thing she knew for sure was that Minho acts a hell lot more closer to her than he ever did with you. That, she could stand by. Or so it used to be, at least. She wasn’t sure what’s changed recently. Perhaps your snapping made him take a turn for the better, or worse for her. 

“Bummer, I am very happy to see you.” She put on a frown. “Well, maybe not this time because I have something to show you.” Clutching her phone in her hands, her pretty brows furrowed in a look of sympathy mixed with distaste. How she managed to put two opposite emotions together on her face was beyond imaginable but it was, undeniably, a skillset. “Did you know [Name] was out with their best friend… what’s his name? Changbin! They were together today!”

“Yeah, I am well aware of that,” Minho sighed, glancing at his watch again.

“Don’t you find their tension weird?” Yuna asked, stepping up tauntingly. “They are so close! Honestly, if I didn’t know you two are married, I would have thought they were a couple. Especially what happened at the park today!”

Minho blinked slowly. Whatever Yuna was trying to pull here, it was definitely up to no good. He trusted you, whole-heartedly. Back when you were meek and quiet, and now when you were bold and honest. But what he thought was concrete. You couldn’t go behind his back and fool around with somebody else so long as you both haven’t gotten an official divorce yet. However, even if you weren’t cheating, could you possibly be falling in love with another secretly? Yes. He thought it possible, and he was intimidated by that idea.

He clenched his jaw, gritting his teeth to keep the accusation at the tip of his tongue. His paranoia shouldn’t be stronger than your morals. Yuna raised her brows at the reaction, her chest thumping in triumph at the assumption that her plan to pin the unfaithfulness on you was working. She jumped over to Minho’s side and circled her arm through his so she could pull him down to her level, and she whipped out her phone with the gallery prepared.

Minho could barely take a glance at the first picture when the door burst open. You came waltzing into the house, a tired groan escaping your lips as you kicked your shoes off and used your feet to shove them to the side. When you finally looked back up, your gaze sharpened at the sight of Minho and Yuna. You wanted to let out another groan of frustration; besides your sore feet, there was another, bigger, hassle in front of you. But you were more curious than annoyed at the sight. 

“How is it that I always catch you two together?” you asked as you crossed your arms.

Minho removed himself from Yuna, his eyes wide in alert and his mouth hung open with a silent explanation. To see him so riled up with fear just because you saw them in a rather friendly position caused none other than jealousy within the girl standing next to him, so she huffed and retorted with her phone clutched tighter in her hand.

“You are one to talk! You were out with Changbin the whole day today!” She flashed you her phone. “Explain this, cheater.”

You had to laugh. Cheater, right. Hilarious accusation. First of all, never in hell. You would not cheat for the fuck of it, not even when you were about to have your grade drop to a C and you have a teacher who sleeps during testing hours. Second of all, you forgot how quickly characters of her archetype liked to jump to conclusions. All those times screaming at the screen about them being a, as you like to call then, stupid fucking bitch, you never thought you would get the chance to experience one.

God, let’s just hope that Minho did not take the claimed cheating evidence the wrong way or else it would be a pain in the ass trying to clarify to him that you and Changbin were nothing more than friends. That was if it wasn’t already enough pain to have to deal with the second female lead over here.

“Oh! Yeah, I did cook lunch today. I had leftovers so I decided to share some with Changbin too, and I was being playful so I spoon-fed him like once before he smacked my hand away,” you laughed at the picture of you shoving a spoon too far down his mouth. “Hey, send this to me, will you? I can blackmail him with it. Look at how ugly he looks.”

Yuna gasped in disbelief. She couldn’t ask why you were spoon-feeding him, it wasn’t like friends are banned from playfully feeding each other food. If she nitpicked on something so trivial, she would sound desperate. Oh, think Yuna! Think hard and clear on how to make Minho hate his devoted spouse! Remember that you were indeed very desperate!

“But–but I saw you two hugging each other. Look!” She swiped her phone and showed it to both you and Minho.

You wished there were cameras present for you to stare into them. It was just a hug, first of all. Secondly, need you to remind that girl the position she caged Minho in when you first saw her in the office room. Hypocritical, dumbly so! This female lead was no fun at all! The deadpan expression on your face seemed to rub off on Minho quite a bit, as he pursed his lips together to hide a snicker at how ridiculous this situation was. You opened your mouth, inhaled a mouthful of air to stall time as you think of a response, and when you finally exhaled it was a defeated one.

“You got me, Yuna. You really got me,” you said, nodding. “I forgot I signed the contract where I can never ever hug my best friend anymore. I am so sorry, I messed up, I was wrong.”

She dropped her arms to her side with a huff. You were right once again. Something you could only say in a drama world and never in the real world, but we shall not go into that for the time being. Anyway, it was just a hug. She could argue that it was much more than just a friendly hug but yet again, she had no reason to show for it and she didn’t want to appear desperate. Even though she was, in fact, very desperate.

“If you aren’t talking then I guess it’s my turn.” You clapped your hands together at the silence. Looking at the girl, you kindly gave her a tilt of your head and a questioning gaze as you spoke, “Why do you have pictures of me and Changbin? Were you stalking me or did you pay other people to stalk me?”

Minho widened his eyes, a shocked yell erupting as he held out his hand. “Woah, [Name]! Yuna might be a little crazy but she isn’t–“

“Trust me, Minho. I have seen this scenario for at least fifty times now. It is not uncommon for the second lead to hire random, scary, useless men to take out the main lead,” you interrupted him quickly, with your palm shot out and facing him.

“What the hell are you babbling about?” Yuna asked, baffled.

“Too long, don’t listen. It just means I know how to handle this,” you explained briefly before nodding at her. “Care to explain? Did you take the pictures?”

Yuna heaved a sigh, her pretty eyes staring hopelessly back at you. She glanced at Minho once even though she knew she wouldn’t receive any form of help, and when she looked back at you, she nodded. “Yeah, I did.”

That was much easier than you expected.

“Thank you for being honest with me,” you said. “But I want you to know that I don’t like what you did, and I especially don’t like you accusing me of cheating when I didn’t.”

She didn’t apologize; you didn’t expect her to.

Stepping aside, you eyed Minho quickly and gestured for him to take care of the girl. He hesitated for a moment, wanting nothing more than to talk to you, and he complied when you glared at him. You stood on the side, not paying attention to what Minho was saying as he walked the girl out, presumably to send her home.

“She really likes you,” you mused the first thing when Minho retuned from his mini-trip. You stirring a cup of tea in your hands, walking out of the kitchen in your slippers. When you saw the confused look Minho gave you, you shrugged. “Just an observation. Don’t tell me you never noticed?”

Minho titled his head to the side. “I don’t think too much of it.”

You hummed. These second-leads; always spending more than half of their life in love with someone only to get a “haha, I don’t think too much of it” in return. Sometimes you wonder if they were created to strengthen the plot and relationships, or just to slap reality right in the face of the audiences. 

Just because you love them doesn’t mean it deserves to work out for you, and most of the time it doesn’t work out for you.

“Heartbreaking,” you commented.

Minho sighed heavily, looking away to grab a mug so he could pour himself a cup of water. “Yeah.“

You eyed him carefully. Whether he was annoyed because of work or whatever just happened, you planned to clarify one thing. “I didn’t cheat, just so you know,” you said. “I never will.”

“Oh, yeah, I know. I trust you,” he said, gulping down the water and putting the mug down on the kitchen counter. He licked the droplets remaining on his lower lip and sighed. “It’s just…”

How does one talk about the feeling of jealousy without having a clear explanation as to why they feel it? How does on talk about the green monster when they were never prone to seeing it? How does one even talk about feeling jealous at all? It is such a taboo emotion for some reason. Minho grimaced, annoyed at himself for being unable to put his feelings into words, right now and back when he was talking with the housekeeper.

He shook his head, deciding to change the topic. “Thank you for the lunch today, I really liked it.”

A small smile appeared on your face as you pressed the lid of the mug close to your lip, not sure if you planned to drink the tea or just to have the heat stay close to your mouth so you could feel the warm humidity. “You’re welcome, I figured you’d like it since Changbin liked it too.”

“Cool,” Minho laughed, a painfully obvious sarcastic tone laced all over him he wasn’t even aware he was dripping with what you could recognize as jealousy. Mildly, not too much of it, just lingering on the fact that you didn’t make the food especially for him when he thought you did.

Amusement tingled in your head and you thought hard about whether you should tease him for it. You wanted to, for sure, but with someone whose dignity and feelings were so reserved, he would never admit to being jealous of anything. He would be hard to tease because he would fight like hell to deny it while his ears betray him in shades of red.

You took a sip of your drink. Fine, at least you knew he felt that way. “I can make your lunch again for tomorrow,” you said casually. “I should probably count my portion right this time. Wouldn’t want to make so much extra food again.”

Minho cleared his throat, a sense of giddiness bubbling up his chest but he pressed it down until he would be out of sight to celebrate this small victory by himself. Carefully placing the cup in the sink, he wiped the wetness on a towel hung on the oven handle, not looking at you as he spoke, “Yeah, sure. Thank you again.”

“No problem.” You moved over to the sink and rinsed your cup before putting it on the dish rack located just at the side.

“Oh, I got news today that my dad’s company is going to hold a gathering soon,” he said, his voice louder when he knew what he needed to say. He rubbed his knuckles against his pants discreetly, clearing this throat. “They basically have people working in other companies come over and each department would pitch an idea and see if they want to invest in the idea.”

You nodded. “Oh, that’s fun.”

“Yeah, and uh, I would like it if you can tag along?” he asked.

“Won’t I have to anyway?” you responded light-heartedly, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Yes and no. You don’t actually have to show up all the time, contrary to what we have been doing for almost every single company gatherings I have been to. I just want to see if you want to go this time since my dad–well, he is finally giving me a chance to pitch an idea by myself,” he muttered under his breath before quickly adding. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to! I’m not gonna force you to go to those events anymore.”

This felt like some type of prom proposal but a much less expected and underprepared version of it. This was the first time you have ever been asked to join anything that wasn’t a club activity or a family gathering. Although it was a company gathering, you would still be attending as a plus-one, and the thought of that boost your confidence quite a bit.

Besides, you would probably leave the scene half-way through and, if everything goes according to the book, Minho would follow you out and you two would bond in this magnificent garden you miraculously stumble into. One that should not exist in the middle of a vibrant city behind a company building. 

“Yeah, I’ll go,” you accepted. “Gonna go cheer you on, of course. Not loudly but you know.”

“Oh… okay, thanks,” he breathed out a sigh of relief at your reply, the weight dropping off his shoulders.

You turned to Minho then, a faint smile on your face due to the lack of things to say. The tension was rather awkward. You two simply stood before each other in the kitchen, with no words to say and speechless eyes focusing on each other. Minho moved after a while, his hand flying up just a fraction. He looked as though he wanted to talk but he wasn’t sure how, and so you waited for him to pull his mind together.

“Um… I just wanna say welcome home,” he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets because he didn’t know what else to do with them. “I was gonna greet you when you come back but Yuna was here.”

Your eyes softened. Well, you’ll be. Who would have thought Minho had the ability to stir up the shy romantic in you? Cheeks slightly tinted pink, disbelief eyes darting everywhere but you, hands in pockets, and a naturally pouty lip. Muttering some cheesy lines that would escalate the affection both of you feel for each other, all the while trying too hard to make it seem casual. This man was a whole tsundere and you were living for it!

Laughing, you nodded as you looked around the room you have come to be more familiar with. “Thanks. I’m home.”

“Did you have fun today?” he asked.

“I did,” you replied. “But it’s always nicer at home.”

Minho quirked his lips up for a moment before his expression returned to the bewildered, confused one. His gaze was hard with uncertainty as he moved slow. His arms reaching up unconfidently, his legs wanting to bring him forward but they were unmoving. You tilted your head with squinted eyes, deciphering his movements while he huffed out curses at himself.

“Actually, nevermind,” he said. “You didn’t see anything.”

Oh, for god’s sake, [Name]. Just give the poor man a hug! You want to!

“Minho,” you called to stop him before he could turn and leave. Boldly, you opened your arms. “Come here, it’s fine.”

He reluctantly moved closer to you upon the invitation. His arms carefully going around your back to engulf you in his arms, his head dipping slightly just enough to smell the lingering scent of street food you ate this afternoon. It felt nice, as much as he forgot how touching other people feel. Steadying himself in your embrace felt warm and safe. He blinked at the floor, unsure of what else he could do aside from just standing there with his arms around your torso.

“You smell like sweat, Minho,” you complained with a frown, your chin pinning down on his shoulder as you slapped his back one. “Go take a shower. I’ll make some dinner.”

Minho clicked his tongue, his brows furrowing slightly. He wasn’t mad, though; your remark made him feel less awkward if anything. Reminding him that this was just a hug, and he should not have to take it so seriously like he was heading to war or something. He could do this every day if he wanted to, and he sure wanted to.

“Your hair smells like grilled octopus so maybe you should go deal with that too,” he said. “Did you get me some of that?”

“No, I didn’t know you like that.” You shrugged as you pulled away after one last smack to his back for commenting on how your hair smelled like barbecue as if you didn’t already know. “Let’s go get some next time, just the two of us.”

“Sure, I know a restaurant.”

“No, Minho. I mean the street stalls kind,” you said, waving your hand, “You know? The ones in the crowded streets. The food stalls?”

“I do know. I just don’t go to those places,” he said, pulling a face. He has been wondering what your image of him was. It seemed you’ve considered him under the spotlight of a very stereotypical rich man. 

You poked your tongue against your inner cheek. You should have expected that. Maybe that was where your one-minute montage would come from. You could already see the episode title: love and food, where [Full Name] teaches rich man Lee Minho the art of shoving people in crowded streets to get to your favorite food stalls, thus making Lee Minho fall in love with you because wow, this is such a different scenario than what he was used to! No one has ever brought him to places like this before, even though he was fully capable of going anywhere he wanted!

“Then we have to go at least once,” you huffed. “But for now, let’s worry about dinner.”

“Of course,” he said, snapping his fingers. “I will go take care of my… body odor.”

You burst into laughter as you nodded, moving over to the refrigerator, “Yes, you do that, sweaty. And I will deal with my hair later.”

He rolled his eyes playfully and spun on his heels. Moving out of the kitchen and back to the couch where he could get his bag, he paused for a moment when he caught the black television standing there, and a thought popped into his head.

“Hey, [Name]!” He yelled out, looking up to find you peeking out the door. He played with his fingers, “Should we just order some takeout?”

“Oh?” You looked around the clean kitchen with a soft frown before you nodded with a shrug. “Sure. That’d save me the effort. What do you want?” you asked, walking out of the kitchen as well. “Chinese? Thai?” You hummed with a playful smirk. “Pizza?”

You saw him smile.

Pizza it is.

The clinking of the teaspoon was rhythmic as you stirred the cup of jasmine tea in the quiet kitchen. Night has descended long ago. The housekeeper and driver have already returned to their home. You just peeled off your face mask and you could still feel the essence on your skin. The living room was dark with only the kitchen light illuminating the area. It was one of those silent times in a day where you look around and it hits you once again that you were someplace else.

But this house wasn’t strange to you anymore. This house was where you slept in for weeks, where you ate pizza and cooked meals you could never imagine having the time to cook, where you found yourself gradually approaching the mortifying idea that was falling in love with another human being.

Blowing air out of your lips, you groaned at the thought. Falling in love; you have fanaticized about it so long yet it never really happened. The deepest form of affection you have ever felt was classmate crushes and celebrity admiration, nothing stronger than that has ever occupied your heart before. And you were never sure if you wanted anything more than that, ever, because you have always been afraid of rejection, of the one-sided love television talked so much about.

It wasn’t just the rejection. It was all those witching hours spent being cautious and overthinking every interaction you make with the other person, imagining scenarios that you already deemed impossible, wondering if you should fall in love or if you are worth being fallen in love with.

But the rejection part wouldn’t apply to you in this situation since you and Minho were already married, not to mention he was trying to become a better person for you, therefore you shall have no problem going forward from here. Alright, maybe you would have some trouble with showing affection but that wouldn’t be because you don’t accept Minho and only because you were never taught how to properly reciprocate another’s love.

“Made you jasmine tea, you lame-a-thon!”

Minho looked up from his desk with a deadpan expression. You and your nicknames just get worse and worse as time passes, and he painfully awaits the day when you finally unleash the worst nickname you could muster. When you saw his frown, you hummed, “Oh, stop that frown, boy. Your face will get stuck like that.”

You kept telling him that and he knew for a fact that it is impossible for facial expressions to be stuck on his face. Yet, every time you tell him that, he found himself whole-heartedly trusting you for just a second and he would revert to a neutral expression. It was stupid, it was the kind of stupid only you could bring out in him.

“You should go to sleep, [Name].” Minho received the tea gratefully, giving you a nod of acknowledgment. His eyes bounced down to the pattered mason jar you were holding and he tilted his head, holding up his own mug. “How come you get a pretty jar and I just get a white mug?”

You shook your jar. “My drink is iced, yours is hot. Hot drinks and glass jars? Not cute. Iced drinks and glass jars with straws? Very cute.” You took a sip of your fruit juice before pulling the straw away and added with a giggle. “Also, you don’t look like someone who would use something like this.”

“Judging a book by its cover now, huh? I see.” He rolled his eyes and returned to his papers.

You decided to stay at home with him too, the idea only floating out of your head during the third day when you impulsively knocked on his workroom and sat down on the couch with a random book you pulled from the bookshelf. He let you sit there with him in silence, the only sound reverberating around the room were papers turning, keyboards typing, and an occasional chatter about the book you were reading.

Minho wondered why he has never done this before. He always thought he liked to work alone, and he still does. But having you stay in the same room with him felt more comforting than the deafening silence he has to face whenever he allows himself a moment to rest. He could look up and be reminded that someone is there with him, and that defeats the hidden loneliness he never liked to confront.

“Are you sure you don’t want to rest?” you asked, grimacing. Not sure why you felt the need to urge Minho to stop working when you were also one to sit in front of a computer with papers piling up at your work desk too. It was always much easier to point a bad habit out for somebody else than yourself, you supposed. “You’ve been here the whole day.”

Minho shook his head, pouting slightly. “No. I’ll be done with it when I feel like I’m done for today.”

“Are you slacking behind?”

“No,” he said in a soft whisper, glaring up at you for even thinking he would let himself fall behind.

You sneered and removed yourself from his desk. Walking back to the couch you’ve sat on for days, staring at a book or scrolling on your phone, you jumped back on top and placed your drink on the lamp table just behind your head. Laying your body down and extending your legs, you grabbed the thick book and opened it once again to pick up where you left off.

Minho glanced at you, a gentle smile quirking on his lips and his hands slowing down with the papers. He never noticed it, but the couch was placed at the perfect angle for him to look at. Even if you caught him staring, he could always laugh it off as him looking at the clock just above you on the wall. It was perfect, very discreet, and wish-fulfilling.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sleep?” he asked, breaking the silence.

You didn’t bother to take your eyes off the book but you had stopped reading the lines. You shook your head. “No, I don’t feel like leaving you here alone with the clock ticking. Also, this book is interesting. I want to finish it quickly so I can grab another one.”

“Huh? What is it about?”

“Some random Math stuff? I don’t know. I didn’t pay much attention to the context, I just like to read the words,” you said, looking over at him with confident eyes briefly before going back into the book, where you would be saying the words and not stringing them together to make any sense. “It makes me feel smart when I read them.”

He chuckled at your response, his brow arching slightly at the unpredictability of your actions. He made no further comment, letting himself dive back into work as he planned to. Time flew quickly when he was focused, and another hour passed before he knew it. When he granted himself another break for his eyes and neck, he could see that the time was inching closer to sunrise, and when he cast his gaze downwards, he could find you sleeping with the book open on your chest.

Dropping everything at his fingertips, he stood up slightly to give himself a clearer look. Your breathing was slow and your eyes were closed. You also have not been making any comments for the past hour so that should be enough indication for him that you had fallen asleep. Fully standing up now, Minho walked out of his desk so he could approach the couch where you laid. He glanced down at you, debating whether he should wake you up or carry you back to your room.

He grimaced. It would be best to wake you up, right? What if you didn’t want him to bridal-style carry you? But he also didn’t want to disturb you from your sleep either, you looked so peaceful! Minho paced back and forth across the floor, his index nail stuck between his teeth as his eyes shook with thoughts. God, you would laugh so hard if you knew he did this—what a dilemma! Do you or do you not carry your spouse back to their bed when they have fallen asleep?

Just carry them back, Minho, stop worrying.

He paused in his track, his eyes rolling up at the ceiling with a faint murmur. “Carry them…?”

Uh, yes, Minho. That was what I said.

Minho frowned with a scratch on the back of his neck, but he complied with the voice in his head and moved back to the couch. He crouched to your level and carefully removed the book from your hand. You stirred, causing him to freeze immediately, but there was nothing more than that. He dropped the book on the carpet floor before he fumbled around in the air with his unsure hands, not sure where to place them.

Alright, calm down a moment, Minho.

Breathing out slowly, he attempted to calm his messy mind as he let his arms drop back to his side and he stayed in the crouching position. Minho’s gaze blinked over to your face and his heart softened. This utterly relaxed, unguarded face of yours was one of the many faces Minho loved about you; even though it might take him some time to get around to that strong word, he wasn’t denying how much he felt a genuine fondness over it.

At moments like these, when you couldn’t hear him, Minho thought he would spill his deepest, darkest secrets to you, or even confess the inner feelings he got. Maybe about how he honestly would much prefer to have a cup of water instead of tea, or maybe about how he kind of preferred Chinese food over pizza after you made him eat General Tso with rice that one time, or even about how he really enjoyed strolling through the street with you even though he had protested going outside the other night.

But he didn’t. He just watched, trying to match your breathing with his own, trying to keep the gentle back of his fingers to himself instead of running it down your cheek.

It was supposed to happen this way, the cliché scene where one watches the other sleep. When did such a quiet, loving moment become a laughing stock? Did people forget that it has always just been about the serenity of watching a loved one breathe so peacefully and finding immense solace in the idea that they will be there with you until the night comes and the morning sun rises? What is so cliché about feeling at ease with a loved one by your side?

“Okay. Let’s get you to bed.” Minho smiled to himself when you stirred once more on the couch. He finally slipped his hands under your legs and your torso, making sure he found the right place before he pulled you up. However, instead of hoisting you up into his arms, your breathing quickened in the wake of being disturbed and you were quick to open your heavy eyes.

Minho whispered out a laugh. “Hey, good morning.”

You furrowed your brows. That was Minho, you knew even though your mind was too groggy to make out his face. You couldn’t even see those pretty eyes of his with your eyes half-opened and your brain not functioning normally. You just knew you were exhausted and you wanted nothing more than to head back to sleep.

“Shut up,” you mumbled, shifting your weight so you could turn to him and roll straight into his embrace.

He sat back against his feet, a startled groan paired with the curling of his arms when you hugged him by the neck and laid your face at the crook of it. He froze for a minute, wondering if you planned to move at all only to find that you were asleep once again. Looking around the room, he flashed a hopeless look, asking for help from above.

The above won’t answer you, but I could help, I suppose. Sigh… what would you both do without me?

Just lay down and rest, Minho. It’s about time you sleep too.

Minho licked this lower lip. Your gentle breathes fanning against his skin disarmed all the walls he has built up to guard his heart, which currently thumped heavily in his chest. Oh, how crazy it was! He felt both giddy and baffled at the same time, loving and fearing this reaction! Carefully standing up, he held you close to his chest and moved the both of you back on the couch, where he tried to slide underneath your body first before laying you down.

“Jesus, Minho, stop fucking moving.” You squeezed his neck lightly as your irritated voice echoed in his ears.

He apologized with a nod, toning down the wriggling of his body as he wrapped you up in his arms and, cautiously, placed one leg on top of yours to secure your position. He gulped and exhaled. This was the first time he has ever been this close to someone and it would be the first time he has ever slept in a cuddle position. He has never longed for it, not even when he had to third-wheel his friends on party nights, and he wondered what sorcery caused his indifference toward something so amazing. 

The heaving of your chest pushed against his, reminding him to breathe. He held you close, the corner of his heart filling up the tighter his grip on yours was. He thought you would whine about it again, smacking him and telling him to loosen his grip. He waited until that moment for a long time. It never came. 

The gathering was as extravagant as you expected it to be but it was definitely much more wedding-like than you anticipated. People were leaving their expensive cars left and right at the drop-off area, some greeting each other while some walking straight into the building due to the evening cold.

Seeing the obnoxiously loud interactions of other rich families, you grimaced with a firm reminder of what goal you set for yourself this night: smile and nod, pretend you know the people and fake an emergency for escape! You’ve thought this over thoroughly—what kind of medical emergency would be publicly acceptable in the eyes of the rich? You had no idea, but you figured you’d roll with it when time comes!

“I thought this gathering is just for business people,” you muttered to Minho when he led you into the building.

He looked around with a blank expression, his eyes tired and his heart hammering loudly in his ears upon the bright setting. “Yeah but they bring extra people,” he replied with a low gruff, annoyed and not trying to hide it.

You glanced at his face. He has had this same pained expression on his face the whole day. It has been here since the morning when you got down to the kitchen and found him devouring a piece of toast while looking at the script he prepared for the presentation. You figured he was just nervous. After all, he did mention how important this opportunity was for him. His father was finally allowing him to contribute instead of simply sitting in on meetings and critiquing others’ work.

He was stepping out of his father’s shadow and showcasing his capability, to not just his father but all the other staff as well. You recognized how important that was, so, not wanting to disturb him, you had chosen to keep a good distance for today and only encourage him before he has to go on stage to present his idea for the company. 

Instead of bothering him with your unnecessary commentary about the place, you have decided to keep it all to yourself as you observed your surroundings while following his lead into the gathering hall. There wasn’t much you could say about places as such because you were, for one, inexperienced when it came to excessive places like this. Bright lights, velvet carpet, wide stairs, and marble columns decorated with white flowers.

Honestly, this could really pass for a wedding venue if you didn’t know any better. If they got porcelain white napkins hidden somewhere inside, you’d probably be stuffing some in your pockets just for the fun of it. It would be the closest you’d ever come to actually eating the rich; you would be stealing from them. They were not very similar in action, but at least you’d be doing something, unlike those who were often all bark and no bite.

Minho could feel the burning pit in his stomach growing the more he stepped closer to the actual venue. Pressing a hand to his abdomen in hopes to calm himself down, he spared a glance your way and let out a curious a chuckle when he saw the way you were examining the place—with focused eyes, like you have arrived at a crime scene and you wanted to find hidden clues left by the criminal.

This was the first time he has seen you react like this. You were never bothered by these types of places, much due to the fact that you grew up going to these events. But it was a sight for sore eyes, his sore eyes, and perhaps his sore heart too. He felt like he was about to die from nervousness despite all the times he spent preparing for this moment, and the fact that you shouldn’t be amazed by something so familiar blew over his head.

It was too significant for him not to be anxious over how he could potentially fuck up. Looking at you took those thoughts away for a brief moment before it hit back at him again, and he returned to that stoic expression he had earlier.

“Oh, you are finally here!”

Minho’s mother opened her arms as she approached him, cupping his cheeks and pulling him down to hug him better. You smiled at them from behind, your hands clasped at the front and waiting for her to notice you. And she did, immediately after she sent Minho away to find his father. She gave you the same enthusiastic response and hugged you tight like she hasn’t seen you in years.

“I am so glad you came. Somebody needs to be here and cheer my boy on,” she laughed, moving over to the long table filled with treats and drinks. “He has never dealt well with stage fright, unless when he is dancing, then he just turns into this whole other person!”

“Oh, I see–excuse me, what?” You paused in the middle of your sentence, your eyes blinking in disbelief as you turned to her. Forget the almond cookies and the chocolate cupcakes lined up waiting to be greeted by the impending death! Minho and dancing? That was the real deal, you’ve got to get as much information on that as you could!

“Dancing! [Name], you know this! Minho used to dance when he was younger but he stopped when he started university!” she said, hitting your forearm.

“Of–of course! I haven’t seen him dance in a long time, I kind of forgot what it looks like anymore,” you giggled, causing her to scoff.

“Why didn’t you just ask? I have so many videos saved. I can just send them to you when I have time,” she said, to which you beamed. That must be a sight to behold; you wondered if Minho never talked about it because he was embarrassed by it? But then again, judging by the tone of voice his mother was using, she was more proud than amused.

As she looked away at the stage, a nostalgic smile on appeared her face. “He was always so excited to dance. Sometimes I wonder if he would have gone down that path instead of this if his father didn’t force him to quit dancing.”

You hummed in thoughts, wondering the same question. He seemed rather intent with what he has right now, not to mention he was far too determined and hard-working for someone who doesn’t like their job. But that wouldn’t eliminate the possibility that he didn’t choose this for himself. Perhaps you should ask when you get the chance, maybe after the gathering is done and he is back in a good mood again.

“Oh, [Name], I’ve got to leave for a momentl.” She patted your arm to inform you, pointing her finger at a group of older ladies sitting around a table.

“Okay, have fun!” You nodded.

“Of course,” she said, her smile dimming slightly before she walked closer to you. When she spoke, she was whispering, “Did you and Minho fight again? Where is your ring?”

You gasped. You almost forgot about that! Looking away, you cursed yourself for never asking Minho for the ring back. You would be more than happy to put it back on your finger now, considering how you and Minho were getting along splendidly. Witty remarks were thrown at each other, but there were also hints of care and affection left here and there; you two were simultaneously hatching down each others’ emotional walls, waiting to meet each other at the very core of your beings eventually.

Besides, it’d be awkward if other people noticed. 

“No, we didn’t!” You pulled at your fingers and laughed, genuinely. “I took it off when I was cooking earlier this week and I think I misplaced it. I haven’t been able to find it since then, but I will make sure to double-check again.”

She was quick to breathe out a sigh of relief. “Ah, and I was over here wondering what he did this time! You got me on my toes ever since you asked me about a divorce.”

“No, no! Everything is much better now.” You smiled, biting your lower lip as your mind filled up with Minho’s image. “I think I–“ you cleared your throat–“like you said, I loved him through it.”

Oh, you almost said it! It was a close one but no worries, there is always next time. Just make sure you won’t be too late for it.

Her smile widened at your words, her eyes glistening in threatening tears. She held your hands. “That’s great! That is all I want to hear.”

She gave your hand one last squeeze before she bid you another farewell and left your side. Surprisingly, you didn’t feel too anxious having to fend for yourself in a crowd of strangers. For one, you thought if you stuffed your face with enough food, people would leave you alone. For two, your mood was heightened so much after having a talk about Minho, from knowing about his previous dancing passion to indirectly admitting your feelings for him. It made you feel all jittery inside, your heart beating like jelly, sweet and weak.

Facing the sea of sweets laid out in front of you, you quickly reached out for the nearest cookie plate and stuffed two almond cookies into a napkin you grabbed from the corner. When you were done, you looked up and scanned the place for a quiet corner where you could eat your snack in peace. There seemed to be none. This place was riddled with rich people talking, bragging, and whining.

Taking a bite of your cookie, you squinted your eyes in hopes to find traces of Minho anywhere. At a time like this, talking to strangers would be inevitable, and if you were going to do that, you would much rather do it with him by your side. At least he could carry or save the conversation if you started to act weird and say poor, irrelevant things these people wouldn’t understand, like how you like to buy fruits wholesale and that thousand dollars mini purse was so not worth it, ma’am! What the hell do you have in there? Air?

Speaking of mini purses. Your bored gaze trailed across the top of people’s heads until they settled on a familiar someone. You hummed curiously, casting your gaze a little to the side and bingo! There Minho was, as you expected. You were bound to find Minho around if you see Yuna. Swallowing the cookie and stuffing the remaining one into your pocket after wrapping it up neatly in the napkin, you quickly made your way across the hall where those two stood talking.

When Minho saw you approaching, he first breathed out a sigh of relief. He had been trying to get rid of Yuna but it was to no avail. Not saying the girl was persistent in her chattering but because his mind was too hazy to think about anything to say, he could only glare hard at her in hopes to focus at least a little on the one-sided conversation. Yuna should have probably guessed from his eyes that he wanted to take a break but you really shouldn’t expect much from her. She’s a bit stubborn.

She stopped abruptly when she saw Minho turn to the side, a groan leaving his lips. His heavy steps made his way over to you, her brows furrowing as she sucked in a puff of air after she noticed your presence. You laughed in startlement when he placed a hand on your shoulder, ready to give him a snarky remark. Then he suddenly dropped his head down to your shoulder and rested there. You were taken back; he must be exhausted. 

You caught Yuna’s eyes without him blocking your view, the dissatisfied look on her face sending a shiver down your spine. Way to make yourself on top of her blacklist. Not that you cared much, but under a setting like the one you’ve been forced to live in? It would not hurt to plan for some mafia-related accident that may or may not happen.  

“Woah, Minho. Feeling a little too nervous, are we?” you joked, your hand flying up to the back of his neck so you could give him a comforting pat.

As soon as your hand touched his skin, it flinched back on instinct at the burning hot sensation. You grimaced, confused and very concerned. Where did the sudden heat come from? Pressing your palm to the back of his neck again, your faint grimace turned into a deep frown as you patted against him a few times before pulling away to look at him.

“Minho, you’re burning up,” you said as you pushed him up from your shoulder. Your hand went to his forehead despite his protest and back to your own for comparison, not that it was much needed because he was very obviously heating up. You focused on him, watching his chest heave up and down slowly like he was trying to take very deep breathes, and his eyes were struggling to open. “Shit, you have a fever–all of a sudden?”

Yes. All of a sudden. Does nobody care for illogical surprises anymore?

Now his gloomy moods made sense, although it was quite a shock that he just suddenly came down with a fever like this. There were no signs of it just this morning. He probably accumulated too much stress these few weeks from him isolating himself in the workroom. Not to mention the nervousness that built up to today adding more weight to his health.

Before Minho could say anything, there was a muffled clap echoing through the hall. The speakers were turned up for the host standing in the middle of the stage with a microphone in hand, a podium next to him ready for the speakers to go up. He cleared his throat and welcomed everyone in a cheery tone before asking the guests to return to their assigned seats.

You pursed your lips, a sudden tinge of uncertainty flowing into your mind. You forgot he was supposed to go up this evening. 

“You can’t go up there like this. You should go home,” you suggested, giving him a rather commanding glare.

He shook his head, rubbing the side of his temple as he squished his eyes tight. “No, I have to… I have to do this tonight,” he said, “It’s fine, I can hold on until the end of the presentation.”

“But–“

“[Name],” he took a deep breath and smiled at you. He stood up straight, breathed in deep, and kept that smile on his face. Forcing his eyes open, he looked back at you and nodded in confirmation, “I’m going to be fine. I just needed a little rest from the noise. We can leave immediately after I’m done. I promise.”

You bit the inner part of your bottom lip, still unsure and wondering if you should insist on going home early. Him being sick was one thing, but another thing was that you did not want to be the person who ruins his opportunity to show himself in front of important figures within his community. He worked so hard for today, maybe you should put some faith in him when he told you he could make it till the end of his pitch.

Minho relaxed when you placed your hand on his cheek, ever so slightly he leaned against your palm to feel its softness. You almost laughed at his reaction, a light-hearted laugh that shows nothing more than how fond of him you have become. Stroking his cheek with your thumb, you nodded. “Okay then.”

Ah, so sweet. What a miracle that nobody was paying attention to the two of you standing at one corner of the hall, drowned in each others’ eyes like the sun drowns in the sky. It was the exact manifestation of that description where your surroundings go white and it is as if nobody is there. And instead of a kiss, you just have your hand on his cheek.

Get to your damn seats, the story cannot go on without you both at your assigned spots.

The introduction going into the line-up for each presentation prepared for this gathering was boring at best. You were too busy making sure Minho was really feeling okay that you paid little to no attention to what the host was saying on stage. When his name was called up, you flashed him one last concerned look only to get an assuring smile in return.

His steps felt heavy as he moved away from the table and up to the stage. His mind spinning with words from the script he prepared for himself days earlier and memorized within a night’s time. It would be a shame if he messed up or suddenly forget what to say, but he was prepared enough to be able to improvise. He knew his own ideas and materials. 

The only trouble he really needed to conquer was—

Minho closed his eyes immediately when the spotlight flashed at his face without warning. He sucked in through gritted teeth, his eyes burning from the unwanted brightness and his mind feeling jumpier than ever at the stimulation.

—the threatening spotlight, the sea of eyes, the hammering in his ears, the microphone that accentuated his heavy breathing, his sweaty palms, his shaky voice when he started to speak, his warm forehead.

It just hit him how hard this would be. The stage fright and his weak body felt like an immortal enemy. Before he knew it, his eyes were closing, and he was stumbling on his spot, and then all of a sudden, his knees buckled in the most graceful way possible, and his body dropped to the ground.

The first thing Minho saw when he opened his eyes again was those annoying lights attached to his bedroom ceiling. Immediately closing them, he let out a faint groan and shifted his position on the bed so he could sit upon the soft mattress. The fabric of his clothes changed from the rough blazer of his suit to his smooth pajama. He could feel it by grabbing a fistful of his pants as he sat up.

Sensing movement from the bed, you looked up from your phone and immediately broke into a smile when you saw that Minho was awake. Getting up from your seat, you moved over to the edge of his bed and leaned against the side of it to look at him. “Good morning to you. How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” he muttered, feeling completely out of it. He was trying to remember what happened before he blacked out, mainly whether he made it through the end of his presentation or if he just fainted in the middle of it. The more he tried to use his head, the more nauseated he felt.  

In the midst of his heavy thoughts, he felt your fingers gently brush against his bangs to move them out of his eyes, and he jolted back to reality in order to give you a smile.

“I know you are. Who wouldn’t be, honestly?” you huffed, recalling in fast-forward motion of how you and him spent the past weeks in his office room.

Guilt slowly wrapped around your heartstrings then, making you wonder if you should have taken better care of him despite his persistent to work on the pitch proposal, or if you should have stopped him from going up the stage earlier. Yet none of those would compare to the panic you felt when he dropped to the ground.

The feeling was quick to leave as you figured out the negativity wasn’t what Minho needed at the moment, and you reverted to your old, laid-back self by giving his forehead a flick of your fingers, earning a surprised yelp from him. “Also, if you are wondering, I changed you out of your clothes,” you said. “Don’t worry, I didn’t try and see anything. I am very noble.”

Minho lacked the energy to roll his eyes but he did giggle, leaning his head against the headboard with his eyes closed. When he opened them again, he glanced over at you to find you staring right at him. Your brows arched questioningly at his silence, and the more he kept quiet the more you could feel a blush gushing up your cheeks.

Putting your hands on your hips, you tapped your feet against the floor to feign annoyance as you tilted your head at him. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Oh, please, you knew why he was looking at you with those sparkly eyes of his, gleaming with a kind of adoration no other has held for you. In most cases, quiet moments like these would force the two main characters both looking at each other. One acting confused while the other filled to the brim with love. Since you were the oblivious one, Minho would be the latter.

You knew that. You just didn’t want to admit to knowing it on your own because for one, it might make you look conceited, and for two, what if you were jumping way ahead of yourself? That would be very humiliating for you, [Name]. That was if you hadn’t already done that by asking such a stupid question. 

Instead of replying, all Minho did was reach his arm out so he could grab your hand. You laughed in bewilderment, trying to peel yourself away from his touch but finding yourself complying with what he wanted. Your body moved on its own, scooting closer and lowering your arm so he has easier access to your hand. The laughter died down as soon as it started, leaving its job for the blush that heated on your face.

Could you feel it? That sense of vexation rising in your chest when you realized all those times you spent criticizing characters for acting awkward in romantic situations had backfired on you dramatically because you acted just like them all. Blushing, wordless, shivers in the heart you couldn’t control—completely at Minho’s mercy despite him doing the bare minimum.

This tenderness was as new to you as it was to Minho. He hadn’t touched anyone like this before. Surely, he was never too rough with anybody or anything, but holding you was a different kind of gentleness he has never expressed.

It wasn’t just for the sake of not being bearish. It was being soft so he doesn’t hurt or break, it was being soft so it isn’t just a touch but a cradle and a caress, it was being soft so he becomes as sensitive as you. Touching you is like touching porcelain; he does it softly so he won’t break nor crack nor crease you, and he does it softly so he won’t run the risk of cutting himself with you.

This was what he missed out on all those years. When he thought back to it, only regret clouded his mind, but he has changed along with you when you did, and everything felt okay now.

Just one more thing, though.

You could feel his eyes burning at your hand, and once again you were reminded of the lack of diamond ring on your fourth finger. 

“Oh! The ring! I–ahh–I was going to ask you for it but I never got around to it so.” A wave of panic arose as you yelped, startling Minho. “If you will give it to me again, I will be more than happy to wear it back, Minho.”

He tightened his grip on your hand, pursing his lips as he looked up at you. “Of course, it’s in my–“

“Minho!”

The door burst open, causing both of you to glance over at the door. Minho’s mother came rushing into the room, her face riddled with concern. When she saw Minho awake and smiling, she breathed out a sigh and walked in with a hand on her chest. “Oh, you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

Minho replied quickly, “Tried but I am fine, mom. You don’t have to worry.”

“Are you sure? You fainted back there, it was really bad,” she pressed on, moving closer. “Everybody was shocked!”

When you saw how his brow creased and his jaw clenched at her words, you cleared your throat and waved your hand to deescalate the tension. “Actually–it wasn’t like, that bad, you know?”

“I am sure, mom. I promise,” Minho reassured, his voice right and weaker all of a sudden. “I am gonna be back on my feet in no time.”

She worriedly glanced over at you for confirmation and you nodded in return. Then she broke into a faint smile, unclenching her fist and letting it fall to her side. “Oh, good. Thank you so much for taking care of Minho for me, [Name],” she thanked, then she looked away from the both of you and stared right ahead at the window. “If there are no more problems then I should take my leave–“

“Mom,” Minho cut her off. You could finally sense it now, the hidden urgency in his voice. Looking over at him, you found that his eyes were shivering widely, like he was afraid, and his grip on your hand has gotten loose as his concentration averted to his mother. “Where is dad?”

She was visibly uncomfortable now. You breathed in deeply, a revelation exploding in your head.

How the hell did you think you could get away with this trope? The man with daddy issue. Or just parental issues in general but this one was so obviously father problems! You cursed inwardly, ears perked up to listen to their conversation while your mind raced to figure out a solution as you did so.

Here is the thing about parental issues in dramas. When it is about the mother, it is often directed at the female counterpart, and often very easy to solve as long as the main lead is headstrong about what they want. When it is about the father, however, it is usually directed at the male counterpart and much harder to get over, because unfortunately he would be stuck with one father for the rest of his life. It becomes less of a marriage problem or an argument about a potential romantic interest, and more of a psychological injury in need of life-long healing. 

It is work ethics, dignity, power, and money! It is about their child not having the intellect to follow in their footsteps, about their child not wanting to follow in their footsteps. It is having an open affair with someone else and not understanding why your child just wouldn’t listen to your mistress. Fathers are special, and they are weird. They are stubborn and annoying. You never liked shitty father figured in fiction!

That was personal. I can feel it. 

“He doesn’t want to see you, Minho,” she spoke comfortingly. When your words are deafening, the only thing you can possibly do is lower your voice, and even then it may not work the way you want them to. “I tried getting him out of the car but–“

You dropped your jaw. The curse words were much louder now, you could practically play a game of word chain all on your own.

“You fainted in the middle of it. He was expecting you to hang on and finish the presentation,” she went on. “But you didn’t.”

Minho’s heart dropped. So he didn’t finish it after all.

“What the fuck–“ you pursed your lips, never mind that you already cursed anyway, and you pulled yourself away from Minho. You were angry, possibly even beyond that. How could his father be so apathetic towards his son’s health? Looking down at Minho, the tears brimming at his waterline made your inside burn, it felt like you were the one being neglected and unfairly treated.

You sucked in a breath, your eyes blinking rapidly for no reason (it’s for comedic purposes). Then suddenly, you smiled and pointed your index finger towards the door. “I think I left the faucet on so I am just gonna go turn that off, okay? You two talk. I am gonna go.”

Your behavior was abnormal at best, which honestly, the other two in the room would have thought they would be used to it by now. Before any of them could open their mouth, and before your cowardly mind decided to not do anything about this situation, you dashed out of the door and headed downstairs. You flung the doors open dramatic and, very angrily, growled when you saw the overly expensive car parked out at the driveway. Rushing outside, you made a stupid of appearing by the driver’s seat. When the driver rolled down the window, you breathed out an annoyed sigh, feeling like your anger was about to explode in a pit of curses and tears.

What the–piece of shit! Why buy an expensive car if you aren’t going to drive it yourself? Useless, showoff, pointless, worthless, a waste of money! Nobody thinks you’re cool, you hag, you can’t even drive and you conform to the discriminative lifestyle of capitalism!

That was also personal, but the floor is yours.

“[Name]?”

“Y–yeah?”

Damn! You have been doing so well up until now but you really are all bark and no bite! Your anger immediately dissolved when you met eyes with the tall, old man who exited on the passenger side of the car. You gasped. He looked so much nicer than you expected he would. If you didn’t know the title he holds, you would not have felt this intimidated.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, walking over to you.

“I live here. What the hell are you talking about?” you retorted. When you noticed a change of his expression, you cleared your throat, inhaled deeply, and calmed yourself down to conjure up some coherent sentences. “I am here to ask you politely to visit Minho, who is your son, which means he is your flesh and blood–“ you squinted your eyes and turned your face away slightly–“because he is your child, like, he is your son?”

He furrowed his brows at you and he sighed curiously. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I will be if you can follow me and go see if Minho is doing okay,” you said, smiling.

There was a knowing look on his face, then he dipped his head to look at the ground for a moment. When he looked back up, he shook his head. “No. I am very disappointed in him right now and I am afraid I will say what I don’t mean when I see him.”

“Disappointed about what? The fact that he got sick?” you retorted.

“I gave him one job and he embarrassed me in front of a lot of people tonight,” he said, “You wouldn’t understand, [Name].”

“You wouldn’t understand, [Name]!” Was what you imagine you replied, with a tone so ridiculously disrespectful he may pop a vein big enough to cause a heart attack, but you didn’t. You opened your mouth but only air came out as you carefully analyzed what he actually meant. This man wanted to say you don’t understand what it is like to be a functional member of society and work for money because you lay around at home all day, draining Minho’s bank account, as if he didn’t take part in that decision. 

Well then, he has got another thing coming because you used to be in the workforce as well! You used to work day and night, and even then you could never achieve the kind of luxury his family has, so honestly, you’ve got the upper-hand in this argument. You just needed to find a way to tell him you do know how hard work is without actually telling him that you’ve ever worked before!

So basically you’re not telling him anything at all.

Holding in an outburst, you forced a smile and clapped your hands together so you wouldn’t end up strangling an elder. “Maybe I don’t understand, but I do know that Minho worked really hard for this opportunity,” you said, pleaded even. “The reason why he fainted was that he didn’t let himself rest at all preparing for the presentation. You can’t disregard his effort just like that. You are his father, where is your care?”

“You’re bold to be talking to me like this,” he said after a moment of silence, his tone making it impossible for you to decipher whether he meant that as a compliment or not. “But no. This is work. This is about his future and how he will handle the company when I am gone. I can’t act as his father in a situation like this.”

You were rendered speechless. It was either you smack some sense into him or you talk some sense into him, but it seemed like you weren’t smart enough to talk to him so that left the more physical option. You shivered. You weren’t ready to be put in jail yet, so the physical option was out the window too.  

You bit your lower lip. But Minho—he worked so hard for this, and you were there to watch him work like hell for it. If he was bedridden and couldn’t do anything about this, you thought you could at least try a little harder for his sake. But how? How could you explain it more clearly to him that he should give Minho another chance?

Time’s ticking, [Name]. Try thinking a little bit faster. I’ll even drop you a hint. Since you’ve been there with him as he prepared for the presentation, surely you would know where Minho placed his materials?

You gasped, a light-bulb going off in your eyes. Wordlessly, you spun on your heels and left the old man standing there in confusion, watching your back as you bolted back into the house. You slammed the doors shut, kicked off the shoes you did not bother to wear properly, and you rushed upstairs. Stopping abruptly before the workroom you were so used to being in, you opened the door and went straight to the desk where there was a stack of papers.

You may not have known what he worked on exactly, but you did remember complaining about the number of papers Minho was using back then. You told him something about trees dying and he only laughed, already used to ignoring you and your tendencies to ramble about anything. There has got to be some information contained in that pile of papers he printed. You didn’t know what was in there but it wouldn’t be your job to look through them. It would be his father’s.

You grabbed the whole pile, scooping it up into your hands after scanning it quickly, and you rushed out of the door like a madman. Your steps echoed throughout the hall and you quickly walked downstairs, preparing to head outside when the housekeeper stopped you with an incredulous look on her face.

She looked you up and down, concerned, and she asked, “What are you doing running around like that?”

“I need to show Mr.Lee something,” you urged, glancing out the doors.

“Mrs.Lee? I’m pretty sure they’re leaving. Mrs.Lee just left the house!”

Here we go! We’ve all seen the running in slow motion part in dramas, it was about time your turn comes up.

You gasped out a curse, surprised at how much this shit does not make sense because you really thought you were only in the workroom for less than one minute and you never bumped into his mother when you walked back into the house! Granted, the house was huge, but you knew its map enough to know that if Minho’s mom was leaving, you’d at least saw a glimpse of her! How could she possibly be out of the house already? Through the window? Through teleportation? Through—Jesus Christ, [Name], less rambling and more running!

You went for the door and yelled when you saw the taillights of the car flash red. Whatever that meant, you didn’t know, you never learned how to drive! But you supposed it meant the car was being started and they were about to leave this place, so your legs paddled even quicker than before. You got down the porch of the house and sped through the long driveway, your hand clutching the papers closer to your chest.

You ran, and you tripped! On nothing! You groan at your inability to keep your feet on the ground as you scrambled up and continued running. At this point, you were just trying your best to be thankful that your tripping-during-an-emergency scene didn’t involve running away from serial killers or deformed monsters. 

“Wait! Wait a second! Stop driving, car driver!” you hollered as you, miraculously, moved past the car and stopped right before the tip of the vehicle.

It came to a screeching stop. The driver looking at you with wide, shocked eyes as sweat rolled down the side of his face. The headlights were blinding your eyes but you kept them open for intimidating purposes this time, and you huffed out in triumph when both his parents walked out of the car in complete awe at your action. It’s not admirable, just insane. 

“What the hell are you thinking?”

“Here, take this,” you said as you shoved the pile of papers into Mr.Lee’s hands. “It’s his proposal. I don’t know how much of it is in here but it’s your job to look through it.”

He gave you an annoyed glare. “I already said–“

“I don’t care what you already said,” you mocked through heavy pants. When you calmed down, you grimaced. “I am telling you this as an intellectual. You should never let any opportunity slip from your hands. Just because Minho never got to present the idea does not mean he doesn’t have a good idea. You have eyes and a brain, look through it and see for yourself.”

You were glaring at him, not in a hateful way but more so in hopes that you could pressure him into accepting your suggestion. To be fair, you did make a good point, as much as he didn’t want to admit. Oh, and of course, you got in front of a moving car just to get him to look through Minho’s proposal, which has the be the more heart-attack inducing than anything you could have said this night. 

Looking down at the papers in his hands, he let out a low gruff and finally nodded. “Fine. Now get back inside, I wanna go home!”

You let out a breath you did not know you were holding—ah, yes, that breath—and clapped your hands together in a delightful beam. Finally! All those running and panicking and raging were worth this moment of acceptance, or at least the half-way point of acceptance! After bidding both of the elderlies goodbye, you quickly rushed back into the house with the two eyeing your back.

“Say,” Mr.Lee began, eyes squinting, “have they always been like this?”

“Yeah,” his wife nodded, “you just never pay attention.” 

She’s right. He never does. How he became a CEO was beyond anyone, even me. 

“Hey, I got you some food,” you said when you nudged open the door with your food after struggling to remove your hand from the wooden food tray just to twist the doorknob. The housekeeper had pulled you back in the living room and made you take the Minho’s dinner with you, figuring he would appreciate seeing you more than anyone else at the moment.

Minho turned to you, his eyes unfocused and his thought process uninterrupted. He was still drowning in a saddened state of mind; his whole body felt heavy from both the fever and the shame he felt from disappointing his father. Trying his best to clear his sight, he managed to send you a very faint smirk as you approached.

After clearing out space on the nightstand, you carefully set the wooden tray down and pulled the chair closer to the bed, the one you sat on when he was still out cold. You sat down, clapped your hands, and went ahead to grab the bowl of chicken porridge so you could hand it to him.

Minho looked at you, and down at the bowl, and he blinked in bafflement. As he reached his finger up to point at himself, he finally breathed out a short chuckle. “Am I supposed to eat it myself?”

“Am I supposed to eat it for you?” you asked, widening your eyes pointedly as you pushed your arm forward a little more for emphasis.

He huffed in disbelief, “But I’m sick.”

“So eat your dinner! You can’t have your medicine on an empty stomach,” you urged, grabbing the spoon and stirring the sticky substances in the bowl. 

Minho pouted. He grabbed the spoon and lazily messed around with the food. He scooped a spoonful of porridge, seemingly raising it to his mouth but gave up half-way. The spoon deliberately dropped back into the bowl with a grimace from him. You furrowed your brows. Part of you thought this quiet tantrum came from him being upset about what happened, but coming from experience (you’ve got an annoying friend back home), you knew what he was actually trying to say. 

You rolled your eyes and sighed in defeat. Standing up, you went to sit on the edge of his bed instead, giving yourself better access to him. His fingers loosened from the spoon when you took over, and his hands neatly interacted by his abdomen. You almost laughed at his quick response. Tapping the spoon by the edge of the bowl, you moved your body forward and stopped the spoon right before his mouth, muttering something about being careful of the heat.

“You know you’ve got hands that can move, right?” you complained, stirring the porridge again.

“I just wanted you to feed me, is it really that hard?” Minho groaned. “I’m really tired!”

“Well, I am doing it right now, aren’t I?” you exclaimed, bringing the spoon to him. “Say ‘ah!’”

He suppressed a grin, complying with your patience as you fed him the porridge. The annoyed creasing of your forehead gradually faded into concentration, waiting, and making sure he was fed well. You did it exactly how your mother used to do it when you were younger, but instead of you asking for food to be fed to you, your mother was the one who insisted you don’t do anything.

Neither of you said anything. It was all just the spoon hitting against the bowl and the occasional blowing you did on the hot porridge that was getting cooler by the second. The silence gave Minho the time needed to think. He was much calmer than he was before, back when his mother was talking to him and you were out causing a ruckus, and he’s got a clearer head to reflect on everything that has happened.

It just felt like such a waste of time. His thoughts, his ideas, his research, his preparations; everything he spent time perfecting just reduced to ashes because of an unforeseen circumstance, one that he couldn’t control. He has nothing to blame but nature, which wasn’t tangible enough for him to feel like he was blaming something for his failure. And if that was how it would be then he’d much rather blame himself for not hanging on until the end.

But it was all sharp feelings and venom dripping from his heart. Shame and disappointment, failure and incompetence. He couldn’t stop it; how could he stop what his heart produces? He runs on it. If it stops, he stops, so he chose pain over nothing.

You paused your movements when you saw tears rolling down his cheeks. He started sniffling, crying, quietly and freely. Somehow you could sense this happening. You did see his eyes reddening as seconds went by, but you hadn’t thought about what you would do at a time like this. What should you do? Anything to keep him distracted, or nothing so he could let it all out at once?

You didn’t stop feeding him the porridge, but you had changed up the pace of giving him food and wiping the tears from his face using your fingers. He crying intensified at your gentle touch. He had spent so long crafting himself to be this undamageable being because he expected to be injured; the unfathomable concept of human delicacy at the wake of his vulnerability broke him.

You waited patiently, for him to eat and cry until the bowl was wiped clean and you have to put it back on the tray. Taking the glass of water that was already cool, you hummed, “I should probably get another glass. I’ll get you something warm to drink down the medicine with.”

“No, it’s okay.” Minho shook his head and reached over to your hand so he could take the pill and the water. His crying has ceased by now, but his puffy eyes a harsh reminder of the gentle breakdown he had just experienced. “Stay here with me.”

You stayed, watching him gulp down the water like he hasn’t drunk anything in years. And somehow, you thought this should be the time to bring what you and his mother talked about up to him. Putting a hand on his leg, you sucked in a breath and asked, “So, Minho… do you still dance now?”

He choked on his water, his eyes widening and then narrowing at your sudden question. He pulled the glass away from him, droplets rolling from the surface of his lips as he denied with a questioning noise. “What–no!”

“Oh, wow, you are more defensive about this than I thought you would be,” you muttered under your breath. “Were you bad at it? Your mom told you were good but I can’t really trust her with the biasing opinion going on, you know? And I just can’t seem to recall a time when I saw you dance!”

“I’m not telling you anything about that.” He shook his head, placing the glass of water down on the nightstand, almost slamming it because of your unbelievable question.

“Okay fine, I have videos anyway.” You shrugged, reaching into your pocket and pulling out your phone. You clicked on it a few times, puckering your lips for comedic effect. “I asked your mom for it and she sent me a ton of them–“

“Oh my god, no!” Minho reached out for your phone, only to have you stand up from the bed with a sinister laugh. He was just about to rise from the bed and tackle you with his heavy body, but he caught you you glancing up at him from the screen with a deadpan look, and he stopped. “What?”

“I lied. I did ask her about the videos but she hasn’t sent me anything yet,” you said. “I thought she said you really liked dancing. Why are you so embarrassed about it?”

He sat back and leaned against the pillow, squeezing his eyes right as you recalled the older days when he would feel so accomplished just having the spotlight shine on him up on stage. Those were better days, not that his life was ever full of real problems when his parents’ wealth was able to tackle just about anything. 

Heaving a sigh, he shrugged. “I did love dancing. I just stopped doing that now, and I think I kind of lost it.”

“How do you know if you don’t try dancing now?” you exclaimed, moving over to the nightstand and dropping your phone down on the nightstand. Minho could only hear the tune playing after a while when you suddenly started to spin and twirl.

“I’m probably bad–what are you–what are you doing?” he asked between puffs of laughter, his eyes unable to move away from your swaying body as you hummed the song under your breath.

The smile physically could not leave his face as he watched your terrible movements; his dancer-brain was registering how bad your style was but his lover-brain was much more overwhelming with how he found your presence endearing to be around.

“Dancing. Jamming to songs,” you replied in a sing-song manner, moving from one end of the room to another. “You were saying?”

“I said I’m probably bad at dancing now,” he said. “Kind of like you are.”

You scoffed with a roll of your eyes. Offended? Slightly, but he was true. You were horrible at dancing, you’ve got two left feet and you couldn’t distinguish between left and right when you danced. But the fact that you sucked at it didn’t bring you down. It wasn’t like you ever have to perform in front of people anyway! There is no routine, no beat to match up, no eyes judging you. 

You are dancing for yourself when you dance badly because that is the only time you are allowed to dance badly. And that alone is good enough for you.

“Oh, please.” You stopped on your spot to look at him, pointing at him as if to give him a lecture. “I’ll have you know that the bad dancing is the best kind of dancing. It’s when nobody is watching you and you feel the freest.”

“But I am watching you right now,” Minho argued, pointing at himself.

You hummed. You almost forgot about that, or perhaps you didn’t. Your mind just didn’t care if he was watching or not. You weren’t afraid of what Minho would say because you knew he would never give you criticism with the intention to harm. It would be playful, witty, a pain in the ass kind of comment that you could deflect immediately with a funny glare. But, ultimately, you knew Minho wouldn’t hurt you. 

“Right,” you muttered. “You are.”

Ever heard of the term ‘dance like nobody is watching’? It is always much easier said than done, isn’t it? Dancing has always been about expressing, to move in a way that allows your body to breathe and your heart to burn. It is unlike any other sport where you are either good or bad; it is subjective and intimate because of how artistic its expression is. And it takes a great deal of courage to show it to somebody else, freely, without a doubt.

You just found someone who makes you dance like nobody is watching.  

You smiled at Minho softly, closing in on the bed and getting on top. He raised a brow at you as you straddled his lap, looking at him with determined eyes as you asked, “Was my dancing that bad?”

He thought for a second before he nodded. “Yeah, super.”

“Now that I’ve shown you my dancing, would you show me yours?” you asked, “When you get better, of course.”

He nodded again. “Sure, if you want to.”

“Good,” you smiled. “How are you feeling?”

“Still tired,” he said, “but better.”

Minho stared at you when your eyes moved up to his head, and when your hand reached up to fix his bangs again, he felt closer to you. It was so weird; he was just laughing and you were just dancing, and now you have set yourself on top of him with your fingers drowned in his locks and all he could do was stare while feeling like he could part oceans and move mountains for you.

He grabbed ahold of your hand and gently pulled you forward towards him. Your faces were close now, inches apart, and breathes mingled. You could feel the brush of his lips, ghosting over yours, and your heart jumped up to your ear where the thumping begins rashly. And his eyes were beautiful, visible, with pools of stars where your face was imprinted on top drowning within.

This has never happened to you before, you were too stunned to react. But your heart knew that it needed to melt for you to understand, for you to see how deeply Minho was in love with you because it could feel it. The heart could always feel it; even if it deceives you with the surface sometimes, its rooted truth will always come back to you.

“Minho…?” you called out, timidly and softly.

For the split second, Minho remembered how back then when he wasn’t ready to love and love wasn’t ready for him.

How miserable he used to be compared to who he has turned himself into now, his effort not going to complete waste in the face of your acceptance and willingness to forgive. How exhausted he used to be when all he has in mind was work and when he had to pretend to be in love, and now it comes so easily to him, it is natural and daily. How he wanted to do so many things with you now, like traveling or trying new food or sleeping on the same bed together.

“Would you let me kiss you?” he asked in a whisper, his hand tightening around yours because the proximity was driving him crazy. “After I get better.”

You giggled, nodding while you moved to plant a kiss on the tip of his nose instead. “Yes.”

“And you can give me the ring back?” you asked, grinning down at him. And you thought that soon, soon your palpitating heart would become such a normal way of life that you wouldn’t even notice it when it starts to pick up its pace at the sight of Minho.

He nodded, breathing out a chuckle. “Of course.”

Minho is ready to love now, so are you. And love? Love is ready for both of you as well.

Wouldn’t it be the worst thing to find out you forgot your lunch at home after hours of anticipation for lunchtime to roll over? Wouldn’t it be the worst thing, Minho? Yeah, who told you to leave home in such a hurry this morning? Not only did you forget to bid [Name] farewell, you left your lunch right on the counter as well.

“Who the fuck–“ he cursed under his breath as he looked up at the ceiling of his office, his brows furrowed in annoyance. His mood already went down drastically after realizing he couldn’t find his lunch anywhere in his office, he did not need his inner voice insulting him like that as well.

Looking around his desk, he pouted slightly before he stood up. He grabbed his car keys from the drawer, deciding to check his car and hope that he would find it in there somehow, and headed out. If there was no lunch in the car then he’d just have to grab some food at a nearby restaurant, which was something he hasn’t done in some time since you have started preparing his lunch.

I would save you some time and tell you straight that you wouldn’t find your lunch in your car but you didn’t feel like listening to your inner voice so I guess I would just sit back and watch you fumble around with irritated groans leaving your—still—unkissed lips.

Minho slammed his car door shut and locked it by aggressively pressing on the button on the key.

Oh–oh? You think that’s bad? I hope you didn’t forget whose finger was still ringless, Minho.

“Jesus,” he puffed out a string of air, putting his hands on his hips and eyeing up at the sky suspiciously. First day back at work after recovering from the fever and waiting to make sure it went away and he’s hearing random voices in his head, sending him personal attacks?

After making the promise of kissing you when he was healed up, he never found the right time to actually do it. Most of the time, the moment was either ruined by best friends calling your phone or housekeepers knocking on the door, or the timing was awkward. And both you and him would be left dry and red from embarrassment and not getting your first, genuine kiss.  

He shook off his thoughts as he walked back into the building. The air-conditioning blasting against his skin as he walked through the lobby.

“Minho!”

He froze on his spot. That was his father’s voice, he could recognize, obviously. Why was he calling him? Maybe he should keep walking and pretend he didn’t hear anything, the classic method. He wasn’t ready to see his father yet, especially after what happened at the gathering. Before he could even think about an escape plan, his name was called again, and he was forced to turn around and confront his anxiety this time.

“Hey, dad,” he greeted calmly, dipping his head politely as he did so.

“Are you feeling better now?” His father asked after a moment of thought.

Minho nodded. “Yeah. Much better. Thank you for asking.”

There was a moment of awkward silence. This tension started growing as he did until at a certain age, it just got so obvious that it became impossible for Minho to ignore the fact that it was hard for him to communicate with his father just as father and son anymore, and the tension stayed until now. It was unlikely that it would fade until his father started growing older significantly, leading the cycle to bounce backward.

His father cleared his throat and looked away as if he had done something wrong, which he had, but he was here to fix it now. “Back at that night when you fainted, I originally said I wasn’t going to give you a chance to pitch your idea again because of what happened during the gathering,” he started, “But [Name] gave me your project materials and told–demanded me to look over it.”

Minho let out a questioning noise, his brows raising in surprise. Seeing his reaction, his father laughed with an approving nod.

“They made quite the commotion, actually. Ran in front of the car to stop me from leaving,” he said. “But they got me. I read through the materials and they were right, it is too good of an opportunity for me to let pass.”

“Huh?” Minho blinked at his father, his head leaning forward slightly in confusion. He was still trying to process what his father just said about you running in front of a car, and here he was getting his hopes up by talking as if he would be given another chance.

“I’ll let you have it this time,” his father said. “If you can present the idea again at the weekly meeting then we’ll consider it together.”

The hope in Minho soared when it became a reality. His lips slowly quirked into a smile, trying not to act too childish in the face of a second chance. He could freely pump his fist and celebrate when he gets time alone later, for now, he needed to keep a straighter face and accept the chance granted to him. He nodded. “Yeah, of course! Thank you, dad!”

Casting his eyes behind his father for a moment, Minho was able to catch sight of you looking lost outside the building, much to his surprise. The joy in his heart died down for a moment as he squinted his eyes to look better, and when his father too turned around to look at what he was seeing, he laughed.

“Oh, that’s [Name],” he pointed. “Not gonna lie, they creep me out after what happened.”

Minho placed a hand on his father’s shoulder, the amused frown on his face unnoticed as he brushed past him to walk towards you. You seemed to have noticed him when he did, your face brightening when you saw him walking towards you at a quick pace. The little excitement dimmed when it felt like he wasn’t slowing down his pace even though the distance between you both were closing rapidly, and you tilted your head in confusion until he was within reach and suddenly engulfed you in a tight hug.

“Oh–yeah, I got your lunch, dummy,” you giggled as you reached one hand around his shoulder to pat his back. “You don’t have to be this happy about it.”

“You never told me you talked to my dad about my presentation,” he said when he pulled away, an excited beam permanent in his eyes as he grinned down at you like a child. “He said he looked over my stuff and he gave me another chance to present it at the end of this week.”

A chuckle left your lips, a relieved one. Truth be told, you hadn’t thought about that night after it happened, considering you have been spending all the time with Minho, and the bickering and chattering you two did often get your mind off everything else but him. It was probably better that way anyway, it saved you the trouble of worrying. Hearing the good news now was quite a surprise, but you were quick to give him a wide smile.

“That’s great! Do you remember what you have prepared before?” you asked, punching his arm lightly.

Minho laughed, “No but I’ve got some time to prepare.”

“Oh good,” you said, then you suggested. “You know you can practice it on me, right? I might not know what you’re talking about but I can give you presentation pointers.”

He looked down at you, tilting his head and nodding in approval. Why did he think to do that before when he was first preparing for it? It wasn’t like you were really reading the book in your hands anyway, he should have taken the opportunity to ask you for some criticisms. “Don’t go easy on me then.” He shrugged, causing you to roll your eyes at him, a sign that screamed something along the lines of “like hell I will.”

“Oh, and thank you for bringing me my lunch,” he said, holding the box in his hands. “Do you wanna have lunch together since you’re here?”

“I can’t, I told Changbin I was gonna hang out with him today,” you said, your voice lowering timidly because you completely forgot to mention that to Minho. If he hadn’t forgotten his lunch box, you would have texted him about this and waited for the possible tantrum he would give you for ditching him the whole day. “We’re getting dinner today too so I might be back later than usual.”

The frown on Minho’s face was hard to ignore; his forehead creasing and his lips quirking down in an annoyingly attractive way. He wasn’t mad, though, just a slight hint of irritation that you would be spending the whole day, likely a very fun day, with Changbin while he has to be stuck at work and hearing nothing from you. He felt a little left out, which was weird because he just spent four days straight with you, stuck at home and wasting the hours away.

Perhaps he was being just a little bit possessive, so he planned to just let it go. He could hear about your day at the end of it when you get back home and pace around in his room telling him about everything in an animated way. Let’s hope you stay in his room overnight this time because oh, Minho, your progress was not looking so good.

No kiss, no ring, and still have not slept in the same bed yet. Baffling, absolutely baffling.

“Are you mad?” you asked when you saw him glare at the ground. “I can come back for dinner if you want me to.”

“No, I’m fine.” He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as he spoke with closed eyes. “It’s just… I keep hearing things today, it’s weird. It’ll probably go away tomorrow or even later today. I hope it is later today.”

“Hearing things?” You raised a brow at him, looking away and looking back. Then you laughed, “Did you go someplace haunted? Are you thinking maybe it’s a ghost?”

“Funny. If I get possessed, the first soul I am taking is yours,” he said, feigning amusement.

“I’m joking. Maybe you are still feeling a little tired from the fever? It’s unlikely but what’s not possible at this point?” you mumbled the last part to yourself, reaching up to stroke his cheek. “Drink more water and take care of yourself, okay?”

Minho nodded with a smile, covering your hand with his own and pressing it to his cheek just for the sake of having you close. The same white background descended back upon you two, the one that drowned out everybody else and where time worked differently than reality. Aside from that, this fantasy background was also a very good backdrop for a kiss scene so maybe one of you would want to take the first step and give the other a farewell kiss.

“I will,” he said. “I need to go back now. Just because my dad owns the company doesn’t mean I get to slack off.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, I figured.”

“Okay. I’ll see you tonight,” he muttered.

And very casually, even though he felt like his insides would explode any minute, Minho leaned his head down and captured your lips for a very brief moment. He pulled away almost immediately after kissing you as he just touched a sacred land he wasn’t worthy enough to put his claim on yet. When he saw those wide, fascinated eyes of yours, he only fell deeper into the shy hole he dug for himself on the spot.

“Was that bad?” he asked, “Was that weird?”

You laughed, snapping out of your trance and quickly shaking your head. You squished his cheek, your fingers weak from the chaste kiss but you needed something to do. “No, it was fine, maybe a little unexpected but it was fine,” you told him.

Yeah, that did nothing to comfort him. He could only feel the shyness growing in his chest as he stood next to you longer. Bringing his hands up to his chest, where the bento box was pushed against, he uttered out a string of words that you could faintly piece together as a farewell before he turned around and left for the building.

Ah, no good, no good! Minho stopped on his track and breathed in deeply to cool himself. He probably should not have done that, now his mind was going to be completely occupied with you for the whole day! The feeling of your soft lips, the light medicinal taste of your chapstick, the way your noses brushed against each other, how you tightened your grip on his jaw in a moment of surprise—everything! Oh, he would miss you the whole day too if that was the case.

And he would love to see you earlier tonight. Maybe he should speak up about you having dinner with Changbin.

Looking up, he headed over to the reception table and asked the staff behind the table to hold onto his lunch box for him before he quickly left the building once again in hopes you catch up to you, wherever you went after he left. Reaching into his pocket and dialing your number, he pressed his phone to his ears just in time to find you standing around the corner of the street near the road. He hummed, shifting his eyes to find that Yuna was next to you as well.

The closer he got, the more his brows furrowed. You two didn’t seem to be having a very decent conversation and he could almost hear Yuna’s screaming voice from where he was walking. He picked up his pace then, concerned about what could have possibly happened between the five minutes of you and him separating by the company doors.

You could not hear a single word she was saying. It was all gibberish to you despite you trying to listen to your fullest capability, but you had a sense of what she was trying to say. It has got to be something about Minho. She would never willingly pick a conversation with you unless it was about him, unfortunately. Yuna genuinely seemed like a nice girl, a little spoiled and too obsessed, but she wasn’t evil.

You planned to give her the space to vent as much as she wanted before talking to her, but you didn’t know that your utter silence only infuriated her more. Growling under her breath, she glared her wide eyes at you, and, abruptly, she shot her arms forward and gave you an unexpected shove. You cursed at the impact, your back hitting against the lamppost and causing you to stumble away. Your feet met the curb of the pedestrian street and you yelped when you slipped off the street and fell on the road.

Moments like these are hauntingly familiar. You have seen it more times than one, like many other moments you have experienced in this world. The two big words ‘car crash’ engraved in your head, whispering and shouting at you to get up your goddamn feet because five seconds later or so, a car with either a careless driver or a broken brake would come beeping at you. Quickly, [Name]! Move! Get up!

Minho was running towards your direction now, feeling slightly relieved that you started to scramble back up on your feet, but that breath of fresh air quickly choked on his throat when he heard those loud car honks coming from the other side of the street. His heart jumped at the pace of his feet, rapid and piercing, as he ran down the street to where you were.

Questions zapped through his mind: should he grab you back to the street? Should he tackle you both to the other side? Should he shield you from the impact? Any way would be fine as long as you only get a scrape of the knee out of it, really, but which one would work at such a short period?

The were tire screeches, a few honks crashed, and then there were screams from people.

The push at your side was strong, like back when you were younger how your mother would smack you after you did something wrong, but much harder than that. It has the intention to push you away. You got up from the ground, a pained sob escaping your lips when you saw that both your palms were scraped and bleeding.

“No,” you huffed out, tears already welling in your face.

If you were fine, then it would mean that—

Ignoring the help from others, you turned around without bothering to stand up, and your eyes widened in the glistening of tears when you saw the blood rolling down the side of his head.

—Minho wasn’t.

[tanuki-kimono]

Hello! I love your blog bc it helps me a lot with writing and crafting. Thank you so much for making it!

Are there any patterns that deal with poison? Either in the pattern or in the dyeing process?

Even if there's not I'm glad you and this blog exist 💗

(anon continues) Poison in the dyeing process, like when green dresses were dyed with copper arsenite and it was extremely deadly.

Or a pattern of someone being poisoned, like a historical/folktale.

_______________________________________

Thank you for your kind words <3 I tried to keep things organized but the subject is huge so my of the top of my head answer is going in many directions. I hope you'll still find what you need :3

I'll briefly cover here dyes and (pigments), poison motifs, real life and supernatural poisonings. Buckle up we've got a long post ahead!

____ ABOUT DYE

Tbh I had to think for a moment because I don't recall major "poison" stories linked to dyes in Japan, be it fictionous or real (yet that doesn't mean none ever happened, especially considering Japan's history of industrial poisonings...).

Most gruesome details in the fabric industries I know of are about the horrific life & work conditions of female laborers in spinning mill manufactures (as in many countries, Japan industrialization process was ghastly...).

If potters and dyers had excellent practical knowledge, chemistry as a science officially started kind of late in Japan as it was not a local interest, and as rangaku (study of Western knowledge) often favored other subjects like medicine or warfare.

So, until the introduction of aniline dyes (not textile related, but this article about the use of synthetic dyes in ukiyoe printing is super interesting), Japanese worked with "natural" dyes, like ai (indigo) which was the most used during Edo period.

As with any ingredient, being natural doesn't equal safety. Some mixtures could be quite potent/foul, and process could be dangerous. Plants and minerals base ingredients could be toxic (cinnabar and orpiments were then used as paint pigments, and lead could be found in make up), as were mordants used to set colors.

If you want to easily overview which ingredients were used to create colors, I recommand browsing [Irocore] which presents colors with explanation in English in their database (pick a color then scroll down).

Not related to poison, but ai (indigo) is traditionally prepared in aigame/enormous floor set jars I find utterly terrifying:

I don't know if this tidbit can help you, but some dyes and mordants actually damage the fabric overtime, leaving them brittle (silk desintegrates after a while which is a huge issue in textile conservation).

____ POISON MOTIFS

Concerning "poison" themed patterns, none would be actually used traditionally on a kimono or an obi beside novelty items ^^;

For example, many plants can be toxic, but I don't see them set as pattern for this property - they'd rather refer to a poem, be a symbol of the passing of seasons etc. Fuji (wisteria) can be quite harmful, yet it's a beloved traditional motif in Japan.

You have much more chances to find pattern with kujaku (peacock) which are thought to be impervious to poison in Buddhism, than say venomous mukade (centipede) or the horrific ômukade (a youkai I covered in a folktale).

Snakes like the habu and mamushi are dangerous, but if used as pattern snakes are most often auspicious and linked to rain dragons or goddess Benzaiten.

If you squint hard, toxic fugu could count as poison pattern, but such a seasonal delicacy as a motif would mostly underline wealth (as those fishes are pretty expensive as they are prepared by specialized chefs), a kind of carpe diem spirit, or just a fun pattern because fugu balloon shape is cute ;)

____ POISON MURDERS

Poisoning was certainly a thing is Japan since ancient times (see kodoku sorcery). Poisons were for example used in some fishing techniques.

I am pretty sure some kuge and buke were disposed of this way - even thought poison was seen as a coward weapon (hence why its supposed to be only used by shinobi/ninja - even if this "fact" is opened to a lot of discussions!).

During Edo period, such murders made up the news and penny dreadful-like illustrated books favored by city dwellers in need of a fright. But those stories didn't pass to posterity beside cheap ukiyoe plates, and were never as popular as some shinjû (double suicides) or ghost revenges like poor poisoned and murdered Oiwa's:

____ SUPERNATURAL POISONINGS

If your poison is both physical and metaphorical illbeing, mushi could be your guys ^^ This term actually covers everything small and crawling, from real worms and insects, to anything inside one's body causing distress - be it a parasite, an unknown illness, an overboard emotion, a curse etc. If you've read/seen Mushishi you've got what I mean:

In fact any illness-causing being could count as poison-bringer. Hôsôkami (smallpox demon) was truly feared by all before vaccination was introduced in Japan.

Finally, continuing the supernatural poisoning trail, best girl is probably legendary fox witch Tamamo no Mae who among other terrible deeds made emperor Konoe fall sick with poisonous miasma (some version of the story attributes the disease to another monster, the nue). I covered a similar murderous kitsune folktale here.

[butterflydm]

Forsaken thoughts for s3

Nothing firm, nothing concrete, just thinking out some thoughts.

I am trying to keep spoilers to around A Crown of Swords or so, but I am talking about the Forsaken, so it's possible that a late-series spoiler has slipped into without me realizing it.

We have three Forsaken all-but confirmed for season 3, I would say:

Definitely getting Moghedien

Definitely getting Lanfear

Despite Reddit's constant worries that he's been cut, I genuinely have zero doubt that we will be getting Asmodean but I think the show is going to obscure his identity (just like the books did); which has already been implied by Rafe in an interview (seriously, though a. we had that guitar-holding statue in the s1 Forsaken figurines; b. we're doing a 'close' adaptation of TSR - how is that even possible without Asmo? he's the climax of Rand's storyline!; c. Asmo is PRIME material for the more complicated look at Why People Are Darkfriends that the show has been doing)

So the question is... are we going to see any of the others in s3 or will they be held for s4+.

It depends on a few factors, I think:

a. Are we going to be getting the Forsaken meetings in TAR? One of the ways that Hopper trained Perrin in the early books was secretly taking him to a Forsaken meeting (if I recall, Hopper was able make it so that Perrin not only saw the meeting but also saw Moghedien spying on the meeting). otoh, they may not want to cast actors for the other Forsaken until they have a bigger role to play.

b. How much did they shoot in Caemlyn? It sounds like Caemlyn may have been a location shoot rather than a studio set, which might mean that they only will be using it for a couple of episodes rather than going back to it over the course of the season.

c. They've name-dropped Sammael and Graendal -- does that mean that we're going to see them in s3? I do like @markantonys's idea that Graendal is taking the place of Rahvin in infiltrating Caemlyn, because her MO and Rahvin's are pretty similar (heavy heavy Compulsion). I also like the idea of Sammael maybe starting in Tear, being driven out by Rand, and fleeing to Illian and setting up shop again.

d. I do think either Moghedien or Lanfear is going to take over Mesaana's White Tower plotlines and I'm leaning towards Moghedien, because that makes her even more of an antagonist that's focused on the Wondergirls/Nynaeve.

e. If Rahvin does exist in the show, then he's likely going to be the first Forsaken to Die For Real when Rand balefires him out of existence (in s4?).

f. If Demandred exists, will we be getting the Sharan storyline or would we be getting Taimandred? I would personally find Taimandred a lot more interesting (especially since Dashiva does not exist in this version of the story, or at least doesn't exist as a Forsaken, since Aginor and Balthamel were definitely cut).

Someone on reddit did a good post about how eliminating the "men are always stronger than women in the One Power" differential would actually affect the rankings of the Forsaken and our main characters (the comments are mostly not worth reading but the post itself is good) and how that would effect the 'power rankings' but I also think that the show doesn't consider itself forcibly locked to the power ranking system either (which I feel is a good thing but reddit, of course, thinks is an abomination; how dare we not talk on-screen about how Lanfear is 1(+12) in the Power even though the books never talked about it either and it was all in supplementary material lol).

Tumblr is Weird about links to outside posts but the reddit post is here: https://www.reddit[dot]com/r/WoTshow/comments/17oc10a/ok_i_keep_seeing_people_talk_about_the_power/

So instead of Lanfear being six whole levels below Ishamael and Rand because being 'the strongest female channeler alive' still makes you considerably weaker than literally any of the male Forsaken, she's much closer to being on their level (and it's also possible that the show has made it so that Rand is flat-out actually going to be stronger than Ishamael and Ishy and Lanfear are the same, since they've referenced the Dragon being the strongest channeler ever a couple of times). It would also mean that Semirhage (if included) would be a lot closer to Rand's power level as well, making her an even greater threat.

Our final two slots remain a competition between Demandred, Rahvin, and Semirhage, I would say, and who gets what slot probably depends in part on which stories they plan to focus on. If Rahvin doesn't exist, then I'm uncertain who the first Dead For Real Forsaken is going to be in the show.

a. Asmodean, killed by one of the others?

b. Sammael?

Those two seem the most likely. The others kinda all have stories going on later in the series.

I do think that having Rahvin make it in so that he can get killed off by Rand would serve as a good reason why the other Forsaken act more wary of going near Rand in later parts of the series, so that does remain a possibility for me. Demandred and Sammael do kinda occupy the same space in the 'jealous of Lews Therin' ecosystem, so Sammael being included might mean that Demandred is bumped out, and they could then have Rahvin killed off in s4 or s5.

If Semirhage and Demandred both make it in, we might see their 'strange alliance' together, which could make an interesting contrast against the cutthroat in-fighting of the rest of the Forsaken (in the books, Mesaana is part of that alliance too, but I do think she's just straight-up cut).

[alexandradel7]

Literally one of the last posts is "vile worm", because of what a man in Westeros wants to do to a girl who is 13 years old, who has already been married officiously since - period - according to the laws she is a woman (it's early, but it's already ok in Westeros damn) and her smile and consent is the necessary thing for a man here. Do you think I'm talking about Petyr? Tyrion here. :D It's just the fandom picking a target for their negative experiences from irl that they can spout off. Instead of understanding the character and the freaking context.

By the way I think Sanasa's consent and smile is needed for Petyr as well. But he's a jerk character, antoganistic, so he doesn't deny himself the pleasure of kissing the girl he likes, knowing that it might be uncomfortable to refuse because she depends on him so much. Sansa, in the social conscience of Westeros - a woman - who was already a bride, who was already being climbed on by a naked dwarf. I'm not saying the orders of the time are cool, I'm saying this character (I'm talking about Petyr now, well Tyrion too) isn't a grooming paedophile lol. The problematic stuff here is that he was complicit in her father's murder. But for Sanasa there are no problematic things here, she knows nothing like Jon Snow. Everyone in Westeros is problematic. Sanasa considers him as friend. She's not disgusted by him. Well I already wrote about that here. I honestly don't think Martin wants to write a story about grooming, in a world where many Lords' wives are about that age. Besides, people in the Middle Ages were a lot less infantile than they are now. (much) 13 then and 13 now are different 13s in terms of world perception and upbringing. Now at 17 is a lil kid. Before, it was already a man capable of leading an army of thousands of men. Rob is 16.

‘Romeo and Juliet’ - Juliet was 14 years old, Romeo was 16.

Instead, I'm pretty sure this is a story about the beginnings of feelings. Petyr, who probably hasn't fallen hard for anyone else besides Cat, focused on power, recalls those feelings when he almost lost his life because of it.

His heart has probably become very cold and he can only believe in lust. Brothels and whores where intimacy is sold for a few coins and feelings are simulated. Pretty ironic work for a man who has a scar all over his body from real feelings.

I wonder how Martin will show it. Maybe he won't show it as sensually as I think he might. Maybe ‘’Littlefinger‘’ will win with calculation. But Martin said no, ‘he'll never let go of Sansa,’ I believe. I think Sansa is the first person at all to touch him deeply in a dozen years.

Well, then the question then is how he will demonstrate those feelings, how careful he will be in moments of crisis. Just so you understand, I find ‘cutting off Petyr's head and killing him’ by Sanasa's hands incredibly banal and boring thing. Like any strong conflict between it is incredibly boring. What new and interesting things can be learned there? She'll scream, he'll try to calm her down, she'll turn the table over, she'll try to escape, from the castle (death and\or rape by some vagrants, ofc there could be a positive outcome), he'll lock her up. Turn into a tyrant and stop being a Limon dude. Jeez. Okay. I've been bored with angst stories for the last two years. She can cheat and escape, they'll be looking for her. Anyway… meh.

Much more interesting that Petyr will actually help Sansa survive in this world, and be sincere about it.

Petyr was involved in her father's death. Which of course is a huge elephant in the room, lol. I don't think he really cares about other people's lives, especially Stark lives. Although I think some cruelty is part of life in medieval times where people died all the time. Cat wished death on a little boy just because she was so angry about the affair. A wealthy woman who had everything, including food and warmth for her family wishes the boy dead. Psychopathy, no? No, just medieval. So Petyr's cruelty, given his scar and long time among the nobility, is understandable. But Petyr may care about those he feels are important. Giving lemons, featherbeds. By the way these signs of his attention are much deeper, he is from a poor family, the fact that he has someone important and the ability to give something to this person - I think for him it is a special thing This much more interesting dilemma is his real feelings in his cruel heart and everything around him. He is Lord Paramount of the Trident now, but he's literally flashbacked to when he was 17. I think he's greedy, he's going to treasure his feelings. After all that was one of the triggers of his path to power. I can't be with her because I didn't have power, status like Stark. When Stark inflicted his wounds, the river carried his blood away. Now he's King of the River himself. And the river princess's daughter, a little redfish, swims beside him. Anything could have gone wrong, but everything went lucky for Petyr. I wonder how Martin will kill him. And I don't want this character to die a miserable death.

At least it won't impress me much. Much more I'll feel from his death when it's so touching, so honest, that it resonates with the beginning of his story. (or not to die at all, only to die of old age in his castle looking at his grandchildren)

[goodqueenaly]

Do you think Catelyn's would have approved more of Arya's interest in swords and horses if Arya had taken in her lessons in courtesy and etiquette? She didn't seem to think too poorly of Brienne or Dacey's martial inclinations, but neither of those two could ever be described as wild, like Catelyn often thinks of Arya. It seems to me like Cat considered the swords and such more like a symptom of Arya's wildness than an actual problem in and of itself.

Obligatory reminder that Catelyn loved Arya, took an enormous political and personal risk on the hope that she would recover Arya (and Sansa), argued for Arya’s politico-dynastic rights as Robb’s would-be heir, and died with love for her children (including Arya) among her last (pre-revenant) thoughts. (Not to mention the fact that the brotherhood without banners under Lady Stoneheart specifically asked Merrett whether he knew where Arya was before hanging him.)

Anyway, I think Catelyn still viewed Dacey (and Maege, for that matter) and Brienne from a place of traditional socio-political expectations. When Catelyn observed the Mormonts on the march to the Twins, she noted that their mail and leathers were “queer garb for a lady”, and when Catelyn saw Dacey dance with Robb at the Red Wedding, she was surprised to see that “[w]hen she wore a dress in place of a hauberk, Lady Maege's eldest daughter was quite pretty” and that “[s]he could be as graceful on the dance floor as in the training yard”. Likewise, Catelyn’s first reaction to Brienne was one of pity, understanding that Brienne did not fit in with Westerosi highborn society’s expectations of female performance; even when Catelyn accepted Brienne’s service, she added wry, rueful commentary both external and internal on the unorthodox gender roles both she and Brienne were now fulfilling. Now, of course, none of this is to say that Catelyn did not like, appreciate, and trust both the Mormont women and especially Brienne, which she very clearly did, only that Catelyn recognized that these women did not fit neatly into the expectations of Westerosi aristocratic society. 

In turn, I think Catelyn approached Arya, and would have continued to do so without the events of the series intervening, with the same sort of social expectations she herself had been raised to follow, including any interest on Arya’s part in swordplay (to the extent Catelyn would ever have been aware of that, of course, which she doesn’t seem to have been IOTL) or other traditionally (in Westeros) male pursuits. Indeed, there is a hint of this sort of attitude in Arya’s memories: recalling the boar hunts her father would take her brothers on (but, importantly, not her), Arya remembers that “Septa Mordane said boar hunting was not for ladies, and Mother only promised that when she was older she might have her own hawk”. If Arya was going to fulfill the role of married aristocratic lady someday - and Catelyn and Ned I think very much wanted and expected that for both of their daughters - then Arya needed southron “refinement” - a refinement that could not come from dueling with swords or pursuing other traditionally (again, in Westerosi aristocratic society) male activities. That said, I could certainly see Catelyn continuing to contextualize Arya's interests in socially acceptable frameworks - as, for example, allowing her interest in hunting to be channeled into the suitably feminine pursuit of hawking.

[princelylove]

Good morning/afternoon/evening Dear Prince. I hope you're doing and feeling well and I apologize for my stupidity, here are pretty pink flowers for you 🌸🌷🌺🪷🌺🌷🌸 I'm sorry for being stupid and overbearing and breaking your rules, just delete my previous two letters so I ask for a simple sadistic Kakyoin and masochist Darling.

Please, thank you and have a wonderful day.

I honestly can't recall what this is in reference to, so, sure, forgiven.

'It's punishment time, baby.' always rings in my ears whenever I think about Noriaki's character. You'd think he wouldn't be the type to drop cool one-liners, that's kind of Jotaro's whole deal, but he is. It's embarrassing, too, especially when he chooses to drop them.

There isn't a worse time to be called 'baby' than when you're tied up in the air like meat in a slaughterhouse.

Noriaki is a very traditional sadist, he's very physical, but there's not much he can do to physically overwhelm you, Noriaki has a small-ish frame and a lean silhouette. His canonical height is 178 cm / 5 ft 10 inches, which is tall if you yourself are short, but not in comparison to the giants he calls his friends. It's just not fair, is it? It's difficult to be intimidated by someone slender, usually. He considered himself on the taller side before, but it's just not the same when he isn't broad nor intimidating. Noriaki is pretty, really, and he has no interest in changing his appearance to conform to what you think someone scary looks like. Noriaki understands his weaknesses, but to him, they add to the play. Haven't you heard of the halo effect?

You wouldn't assume he's the type to strap you down and have his way with you. It's kind of exciting, isn't it? To be controlled by someone who cannot physically overpower you? He's quite the opportunist, he takes advantage of people assuming he's not dangerous just because of his body.

Noriaki favors tools, he uses his stand, obviously, but whips, his belt, rods, and anything he think could be amusing to use on you are entirely fair game, really. He's quite experimental- as long as he thinks he can use it for more than an hour, he'll try it. Slow torment calls his name, can you really call it an indulgent session if you're not there until the sun rises?

He's the typical rope bunny's ideal partner, Hierophant Green makes for wonderful rigging on top of the arsenal Noriaki calls 'toys.' He doesn't really like to use his hands to hurt you- it just doesn't do anything for him. He'd rather choke you with Hierophant Green than his own hands, you look lovely with ribbon tied too tightly.

He's more fond of just restricting his darling over something like birching, but honestly, it's all so tempting. If running knives down your pretty skin gets tiring, he'll have fun making your body swing back and forth in the air.

Honestly, Noriaki loves to make his darling uncomfortable first and foremost. He wants his darling to squirm before they'll truly think how badly it hurts, it isn't fun if you don't warm up a little. Don't you know anything about foreplay?

[in-flvx]

Helloo! ok this has nothing to do with the aks game but since you happen to be one of my favourites for Sirius hcs I have to ask you. I can't recall Sirius and Harry ever hugging in the books, though they're really close. What do you think about it? Is it just because Harry isn't so much into physical touch anyway, bc I doubt that Sirius knew. I only remember Molly and Hermine once hugged him to comfort him. But if I am correct Harry not even hugs Sirius when they have to say goodbye or they haven't seen each other for a long while although Harry misses him so much. It only happens in the movies. What do you think says that about their relationship and their characters? What could be the reason and so on?

Hello, dear!!! That was a very interesting question, and I now spent my time rereading the Sirius and Harry moments throughout the books (and having a few very emotional moments because of it).

Hugging, and generally bodily contact is something dealt out rarely in the books, and like you said Mrs Weasley and Hermione are most likely to do so. Both hug Harry on a pretty regular basis, both for comfort and just in greeting and saying goodbye.

My reply is going to be a bit longer, and I haven't looked up everything so, many things are just from my memory, just a fair warning.

Alright, so.

The men in Harry Potter don't typically share a lot of positive physicality. They shake hands, they punch each other, and then theres the Quidditch celebrations, in which everyone hugs and cries. All very acceptable and heterosexual ways for men to share physicality, especially in the 90s, I'd say.

Other moments when people, men in particular, become physical, Harry considers those oversteps, and usually feed into his dislike of them - Rita, Lockhart, Slughorn and Barty Jr (still looking like Moody) come to mind for this. And these moments stand out, because Harry doesn't often touch people, and doesn't often has people touch him, much less people he doesn't know.

Sirius is an outlier. As he ought to be, and always is.

Sirius is first introduced to us, in the Shack, with an extraordinary amount of physicality. He of course mauls Ron - but it doesn't stop there. Harry attacks him with his hands, punching and strangling him, while thinking how much he wants to cause him harm with his hands. This is followed by Crookshanks, who uses Sirius' chest as a couch in his attempt to shield him, and then Remus, who pulls Sirius into a hug. This right there is more physicality than we see ever again between such a small group of people and animals.

Srius also holds onto Harry the entire time that Harry tells Dumbledore about the happenings of the Graveyard, and even when Harry describes the grip as painful, he never expresses discomfort with it. He pats Padfoot as well. They share physicality for comfort at least sometimes. And generally more often than Harry does with anyone else.

Still, their meetings and partings are often very tumultuous - first in the shack, then they barely have time to say goodbye because Sirius has to flee and Harry and Hermione have to get back to the hospital wing. Then, they meet while Sirius is a dog in Hogsmeade, and part when Harry is in the hospital wing. Sirius gets sent into war, basically right there, where all the Weasleys, Snape and Dumbledore surround them. When they meet again in GP12, Sirius is coming from a meeting and quiets his mothers portrait. Also not ideal. What I find interesting here, is that Harry is highly disappointed about this welcome. He had hoped for more, for warmth, had even expected it. So when Sirius is stressed out and depressed, it confuses and disappoints Harry.

I actually think that Sirius realises that in a second, because thereafter he doesn't hold back - where he can. Which is obviously not much because he is in yet another depression prison from hell.

But there are two moments in which they actually do hug. One time at Kings Cross - Padfoot gets on his hindlegs to put his forepaws on Harry's shoulders; and then at the end of the Christmas holidays - in what is described as a quick side-hug.

So that is a small compilations of all the moments of hugs and physicality between them I could find, which might be more than you remember, possibly because they're far more touchy in the movies, but in general I do think they have a pretty positive and touch forward relationship, in comparison to what Harry has with other people...

So, I think there's my answer. I hope this makes sense? <3

[melrosing]

btw love your Jaime takes! Was wondering what your thoughts on his dream of Rhaegar with Brienne? i personally find it fascinating and super important for his development.. his family meaning Cersei and Tywin are toxic influences he must leave behind so that he can grow as his own person while Brienne clearly plays a role in this. I also find it sad to see his regret and guilt about the death of Rhaegars family. Can’t help but wonder what the glowing swords mean? Do you think he has a role to play in the long night? I feel like he might but there’s also the valonqar prophecy to consider?

a jaime question we are back in business!!!

I have a lot of thoughts on Jaime's weirwood dream and maybe more than I can contain within one ask but here's my rough breakdown:

section one where Jaime finds Cersei, Tywin & assorted Lannisters I think quite straightforwardly these are the people that Jaime once thought defined who he was: his father, his sister, and the name they all share. but he finds himself quickly abandoned by both Tywin and Cersei who offer him no comfort, and leave him Naked and AfraidTM with no Lannister strength or support. He's effectively just one man in the dark and all that he had left to give his life and identity meaning is gone

section two where Brienne shows up Jaime finds meaning in Brienne!! when he'd lost all strength, hope and dignity, Brienne practically raised him from the dead by demonstrating all he could be and recalling what he had once wanted to be - he finds both his past and future self in Brienne. we also see a supportive and reciprocal relationship between them that was absent with the Lannisters - Jaime frees Brienne from chains, Brienne helps Jaime through the dark. and the dark is gone now: there's new clarity and hope since Brienne has arrived. and obviously we see Jaime's developing feelings for her through 'she could almost be a beauty/she could almost be a knight/it seemed to Jaime she had more of a woman's shape now' - like he's seeing her for the first time again since his 'rebirth' in Harrenhal, and is starting to put together new feelings without quite understanding what they are yet.

section three: Rhaegar and the lads firstly: think it's interesting that Jaime first mistakes Rhaegar in the distance for Ned. we'll come back to that.

but anyway I think the conversation with Rhaegar and the OG kingsguard is Jaime perhaps fully acknowledging for the first time how much that ~fateful day~ in King's Landing truly pains and guilts him - it's not something he can laugh off. we've only up till then seen him confidently state that killing Aerys was the best thing he ever did, and since hearing his side of the story the audience now agrees -but the KG's words show that Jaime still has a confused sense of guilt over it, and has not forgotten Rhaegar's kids either. he still cares about doing the right thing, and feels crushed by the idea that when he was given the chance to do it, perhaps he chose wrong.

I also think it's v interesting that Rhaegar's kids are prominent here, especially considering the earlier appearance of Ned which I think is interesting twofold. first, I think Jaime thought Ned had no right to judge him but that the KG do. second, I think that Ned's children are the new Rhaegar's children. granted Jaime has done a pretty fucking appalling job of 'protecting Ned's children' so far (like he almost couldn't have done worse lmao) BUT they are now what I think will take Rhaenys and Aegon's place in his mind. perhaps he can do right if he can save at least one of those kids. this right now is his second chance.

what do the glowing swords mean all sorts i reckon. hope. honour. legacy. life. I think Jaime's sword guttering out at the end of the dream isn't a foreshadowing of his losing his life at any particular time in the future, but rather the sign that right now, he has nothing to keep that flame alight - Rhaegar and co condemn him to darkness as they tell him he's done nothing to earn the light, and Jaime, in his panic, wakes up. and knows what he has to do to reignite it - hence rushing back to Brienne.

I don't think the valonqar prophecy comes into it because this was something that GRRM added at the VERY end of writing AFFC so it wouldn't factor into the weirwood dream in ASOS. I don't know that the dream suggests much about the long night either though I do think he'll have some kind of role??? depends what the TLN ultimately looks like but I am sure that GRRM means to reassemble the majority of the main POVs there and Jaime will surely be one of them, as will Bri.

[gorogues]

Can we just discuss Len and the way he loves? I can't recall a lot of issues with Len and a woman he's interested in romantically off the top of my head, so I don't exactly know how to expand on this topic, but what I do remember is he turns into a lovesick fool who peacocks around and spoils his woman of interest with lavish gifts and other extravagant things.

I can't recall how many crimes he commits in his attempts to woo, but one of my favorite qualities about him is how historically (from what I remember) respectful he is of women. His little sister, making special rules for the Rogues, his love interests.

I just think it's really interesting for a 'villain' (I think he's more anti-hero, personally) to be written like that, especially when we have such possessive and extreme examples like Evan McCulloch and Eobard Thawne.

He's mostly respectful of women. I think his heart's in the right place, especially in the modern era, but he's definitely done some questionable things that most women would probably find a bit worrying…though that might just be a Silver Age thing we aren't cool with now but it was considered acceptable back in the 1960s. There was also a scene of him being creepy to Linda in Johns' first arc "Wonderland", but Johns promptly retconned a lot of "Wonderland" once he got the Flash gig (I believe that first arc was a fill-in), so he might have just pretended the creeping didn't happen. I'd be fine with that, as Len was a lot less thoughtful and more of a careless jerk in that arc than Johns wrote him later.

There was also a disturbing Bronze Age story I'm not entirely sure how to parse, in which Len had a girlfriend he adored named Myrna Troy, and she betrayed him by robbing banks in his costume while he was reformed. Which, I think everyone can agree, was extremely shitty of her. But he got really upset and tried to put the two of them into suspended animation for a few centuries, with obvious murder-suicide vibes (including a note stating "Farewell, heartless world!"), and I don't know if that's even canon anymore but it was a pretty messed up story.

But I think Len's made a concerted effort to not be like his dad whenever possible, and for that I applaud him. He seems to have problems with long-term relationships, which he acknowledged in the Johns era, and that was probably because his father was so abusive and his parents' relationship so dysfunctional; he didn't have good role models on which to pattern his own romantic relationships. But he was aware of this problem and decided to regularly pay for sex/companionship with Angie rather than get into a series of dysfunctional or abusive relationships, and that was extremely wise and respectful on his part. He clearly treated Angie with respect. He also respected Lisa's autonomy, even if he could be overly-protective of her at times…which is pretty understandable considering he was her protector and something of a parental figure when they were growing up.

So, like I said, I think his heart's in the right place even though he's flawed. He's aware of his problems and attempts to circumvent them, and he didn't have to establish rules about hurting women and children but that's an obvious sore point considering his childhood. He's doing his best despite the shit he's gone through and the damage it's done to him.