#but I'm sure it has something to do with choices

[myddle]

Thinking About Kris & The Weird Route

(Spoilers for Deltarune, Take A Freaking Guess Which Part)

So... you know how Kris sometimes interrupts their own speech, or says it strangely, to circumvent our choices sometimes?

(source)

Yeah. How come they don't do that in the Weird Route?

(source)

As far as I can tell, Kris never actively tries to stop their speech like that in any of the Weird Route prompts, with the arguable exception of the Weird variant of "♥️ I'll never play again", which is notably after the dust has settled and does nothing to stop us.

They don't even seem to pull the tamer trick of saying it in a confused way that throws people off (This one's debateable though, with how much Noelle asks us to repeat ourself).

But why? Kris has little trouble opposing us when we say things they don't like. And Kris doesn't like the Weird Route. That's not even debatable after the bathroom scene.

So why? Why are they struggling to resist us on this, of all things?

I think I noticed this dissonance before the new chapters came out, but I didn't know what to think back then. Not until...

(source)

Eram accuses Kris of, at least partially, enjoying the Weird Route. And they actively acknowledge our control over Kris... and dismiss it as an excuse.

I've talked about Eram's relation to Kris, and how they seem to believe that Kris is, on some level, evil or sadistic. But this is the peak of that outlook, and a huge accusation to make. What behaviour could make someone believe this about Kris?

Well, if Eram was formed from, say, the Horned Headband (Which they definitely are, see my other post) They'd have a front row seat for just the thing.

The Ferris Wheel Incident.

(source)

As far as we can tell, from what Noelle says to and about Kris, when they were young, Kris was just... like this. Possibly just with Noelle, considering we never (to my memory) hear about pranking incidents involving anyone else. Just Noelle. Kris just... loved pranking her specifically. Scaring her. ...Exciting her? Toughening her up?

We don't know why. We don't know why Kris was like this to her. Hell, we don't even know how she feels about it (Although, thanks to Susie, we know that's a question worth asking), and it's possible she isn't sure either. All we know for sure... is that she likes scary things.

Kris & Noelle's dynamic is a captivating Pandora's Box. Good? Bad? Platonic? Romantic? A secret third thing?

Or in other words... something else?

Does Kris even know? Does Kris know why they were like this? I'm not sure they do.

But these feelings, this desire to get a reaction out of Noelle, if mixed with their own guilt, their desire to protect Noelle and their own personal hangups... could all make a very weird emotional cocktail.

Now, I want to be very clear. I do not think Kris is sadistic. I don't think this dynamic is inherently toxic, and I don't think Eram is correct about Kris.

But I think Kris might. Maybe that's why they stopped seeing her. To protect her. From them.

The Weird Route isn't Kris' secret desire, but it isn't completely out of left field for them, either. It's the shadow of the back side of their mind, a corruption of one of their most treasured relationships, an intrusive thought that they'd never act on. Instead, we act on it for them, building a toxic relationship on innocent foundations.

And under our influence, the nightmare becomes real. The entity inside Kris drags their darkest dreams to the surface, and Kris is rendered unable to stop it, powerless to look away, because some part of them, a part they've come to despise and fear, can't help but wonder...

...Isn't it a good thing? She's getting stronger, she'll be able to protect herself. She's doing things by herself, she wants it too. She's smiling, she's having fun.

She's standing up to Berdly.

(honestly, I could probably write a whole other paragraph about Kris' mixed potential feelings about him, but whatever, you get the idea)

But ultimately, they don't want this. They hate it, they hate us for doing it, and they likely hate themselves for being enough of a freak to make it possible.

This, is the Weird Route. We're not just breaking down Noelle, and turning her into a weapon. We're turning Kris into the Sheath.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

What the Kids Are Calling It

Prompt #2 - Selling the Drama | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: None | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: AU, Meet Cute, Movie Set, Famous Corroded Coffin, Regular Guy Steve Harrington

"Cut!"

Eddie slumps back into his director's chair. They're in over their heads here. This was a really bad idea, none of them know how to act. The label has lost their minds if they think this is gonna help their career. It's just gonna be an embarrassment. 

He needs a minute, so he slips away from the set, heading back to the craft service table. It's the only thing he likes about this situation.

Studying the choices, he zones out. Acting is stressful. More than he ever imagined it'd be.

"Looking for something in particular?" 

Eddie looks up. There's a guy standing next to him. He's never seen him before. 

"Uh, not really. Just. You know. Avoiding."

"Your job?" he asks. It makes Eddie laugh.

"Exactly," Eddie teases. 

"You're doing good," he says, and Eddie doesn't think that's true at all. But he's used to having smoke blown up his ass after being in the business this long. "Really selling the drama."

Eddie laughs, a sudden burst of sound that he knows surely made people look in his direction.

"This is supposed to be a comedy," Eddie says, and this guy blushes a pretty pink.

"Okay. I haven't seen any of it. I'm a fill-in. Robin, my best friend, she's sick today," he says, and Eddie looks at him, utterly charmed. "I'm Steve. Don't tell anyone I'm not in the union. I think the punishment is digging my own grave at Hollywood Forever."

Steve flips over his badge, which is conveniently backwards. Eddie recognizes Robin from her picture.

"My lips are sealed," Eddie says, "I'm Eddie."

"And you're an actor that doesn't want to act?" Steve asks, brow furrowing in confusion.

"I'm not an actor. I'm a musician. We're a band, and they're trying to make some sort of knockoff version of This is Spinal Tap. It's not going well. Don't sign contracts you don't fully understand," Eddie advises.

"Noted," Steve says with a grin. 

He's handsome. If Eddie has to be tortured, at least getting to talk to him for a few minutes is a nice consolation. 

"Eddie!" Gareth yells, and Eddie turns.

"That's my cue, I guess," Eddie says and Steve nods.

The next break he has, Steve is waving him over. Eddie goes. Of course he does.

Steve leads him back towards the makeshift kitchen, opening the freezer. Retrieving a truly monstrous ice cream sundae.

"Holy shit," Eddie says, taking it from Steve when it's offered to him.

"I worked in an ice cream shop as a teen. This was our crown jewel. The U.S.S. Butterscotch."

Eddie laughs, and honestly, he can't eat all this. For one, he won't have the time, "You better grab yourself a spoon too. I'm definitely gonna need your help."

When Jeff and Goodie find him, he's laughing at a little table, sharing ice cream with Steve. Flirting. He's definitely flirting.

Goodie clears his throat, and Eddie looks in his direction.

"Having fun?" Goodie asks, and Eddie nods. Of course he's having fun. 

"You know it," Eddie says, "this is the best part of filming so far."

Jeff rolls his eyes, but walks over and puts both of his hands on Eddie's shoulders, guiding him up out of his chair, "We've got work to do, if you're done playing old fashioned soda shop."

Eddie laughs, and jabs his spoon back into the ice cream, getting one last bite before he's pulled away, Steve smiling as he goes.

Craft service is still fully stocked, but Steve is nowhere to be seen. Eddie feels a clench in his gut. He should have gotten his number, should have asked him out, should have done something, anything.

Then he relaxes, just a bit. Robin. Robin will be back. He can get through to Steve that way.

He gets led to the makeup trailer, and they take off his wig, and start removing his makeup. When he steps down out of it, Steve is standing there, leaning against the wall. Legs crossed at the ankle, arms folded across his chest.

"Whoa," Steve says, and Eddie reaches up towards his lack of hair. He cut it short a few months ago, and he's still a little self-conscious about it, even if it's much easier to take care of now.

"Yeah, surprise, I guess. I forgot," Eddie says. Because he did. He doesn't think about the wig.

Steve takes a step forward, holding out a slip of paper in his hand, "My number. If you ever want to hang out."

"Hang out," Eddie repeats, teasing him, "is that what the kids are calling it?"

Steve laughs, and nudges Eddie with his elbow, "Stop."

"How 'bout now? Are you available to hang out right now? I know a good spot for tacos," Eddie offers.

"I think maybe I should feel bad if you're leaving set still thinking about more food."

Eddie grins at him, "I was just looking for a way to keep you around."

Steve reaches forward and grabs him by the shirt collar, tugging him closer, "We could hang out at my place."

Eddie swallows and nods. Definitely. He wants to hang out with Steve. He hasn't felt like this in a long time. Like he's not Eddie Munson, the celebrity. Instead, he's just Eddie. Some guy that happens to like playing music.

"You really didn't know who I was?" Eddie asks, and he's sure that makes him sound like an asshole.

Steve shakes his head, "I'm not really into metal. Is that a dealbreaker?"

"It's not," Eddie says, "but there are lots of kinds of metal. Surely we could find something you like. Even if it's not my music."

"You're more than welcome to try," Steve offers, and Eddie will. He definitely will.

And Eddie holds out his arm, suggesting Steve lead the way to his car. 

Steve backs out of his spot, and pulls out of the studio lot, waving at the guard as they pass the booth.

Eddie hopes they hang out all night.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

Notes: I definitely thought of when all of Metallica cut their hair in the 90s. Maybe Eddie Munson followed suit, lol. Could Steve have just waltzed onto a set? I mean, if anyone's capable, it's Steve Harrington. Let him turn on his, *snap, snap* - charm.

Okay, they totally just recognized him as Robin's friend that tags along with her and ignored his dumb lie. I just know it. 🤣

[ataleofcrowns]

The first time I played ATOC, I was romancing Xelef and had low romance... BUT IT HURT SO GOOD REGARDLESS. Not sure what different choices I made in my second try, but I ended up with high romance then--- AND IT'S ALSO GOOD.

The teasing! The mischief! Being silly in the palace! I know X will probably wallop us all emotionally in later chapters (or at least, I'm predicting it)... AND I CANNOT WAIT.

Ugh- I love the slow build-up for trust... X's big flirty gestures turning into something more personal and genuine and small but meaningful...

Man... I LOVE your writing.

Thanks so much, I really appreciate that!! 💖

I really did enjoy writing X gradually showing a softer and more understated affection to the Crown compared to their usual overt flirtation which has, honestly, become a little performative over the years. That's what people have come to expect of them, so they have learned to lean into that persona, and being able to let go of some of that is very refreshing and new to them.

Of course, that doesn't mean they can let go of it completely. They do enjoy being flirty and scandalous, and they also still have bad habits about using that as a way to hide their true feelings whenever they get spooked. It's a work in progress!

[somestorythoughts]

You don't even need to explain why the magic can't fix this in some cases. "there is no healing magic" in this world is an easy example but like, any very soft magic system with rules never explained? Volia, just say it can't be fixed magically.

God knows what the limits of Force healing are but if they could reattach or regrow limbs without problem Anakin wouldn't have a metal arm. Mistborn have a range of powers but healing isn't one of them.

Does magic healing take energy, or some other cost? You're going to ration it. You can reattach this arm OR you can make sure that person and ten others don't bleed out. What are you going to pick?

Personally I'm a big fan of "can do some miraculous healing BUT they have a lot of people with serious injuries to take care of on a regular basis so they're triaging the fuck out of everything"

Is there magic for medicines but not "miracle cures"? That's a limit.

Tamora Pierce has a story about a epidemic and a lot of it is spent basically combining magic and medicine to figure out a treatment. She puts some of those characters in a warzone and it comes up again, they do great medicines but they can't just regrow flesh.

NUMBERS. Your world could have healers that can regrow multiple limbs in a day but unless there's A LOT of them they will not be able to reach everyone. And that's not getting into whether the supply of healers is restricted by the government or something.

Waterbenders are a good example of that, we don't know the limits of their healing but they can do a lot. Still, it has to be learned, there's skill involved, and what they can heal doesn't matter if you can't reach them.

And even if you do have a world where magic is practically everywhere, that doesn't mean everyone who could learn how to heal will, nor does it mean healing magic is easy.

The best example I can think of right now is a Harry Potter fic I read a while back, where healing magic was something you had to learn how to do because 1 tricky injuries were tricky and 2 too many basic healing spells at once could actually do damage.

It's FANTASY which means you're not married to the constraints of a time period. Unless you're writing historical fiction, don't worry about whether something's super modern. And if you're worried the language sounds like it came right out of the 21st century, change how you describe it.

I once read a book about a bipolar character who was getting the depression/mania treated with magic (emphasis on treated, not cured) and I'm pretty sure they never called it bipolar disorder. The word choice has an effect.

im so tired of being nice. if you aren't normal about disability in fiction and especially fantasy genre fiction im actually going to come to your house and kill you

[ilysungho]

hihi !! could you do 49 and 52 with dom taesan? perhaps friends to lovers and some jealousy hehe. thank you!!

a/n: hi sweetheart <3 i'm so sorry for being... months... late... i hope you like this though! ending is a bit eh but honestly i just wanna get this out already HELP contains: dom!taesan x sub!reader, taesan is flirty & playful, slight angst?, friends to lovers, thigh fucking, penetration (p in v), lowercase intended, prompts italicized (wc: 1.1k)

your home was practically taesan’s home as well. he spent so much time beside you that you weren’t even sure what you both didn’t do together. that was until you met your now ex, and the once tight friendship with him turned into a rather obsolete one as he stopped showing up because of how you spent all your time with… your ex.

still, after the relationship ended, you began patching things up with taesan, but he has come to watch you cry more times than he could count over a meaningless person who should’ve never been with you in the first place. this time was no different as you opened your front door to him, with tear stains decorating your cheeks and visible wet spots at the collar and ends of your shirt.

he didn’t think you’d be this depressed, holding a bag of takeout to have with you, but seeing you in this state just… flipped a switch in him. his smile turned into a frown as he furrowed his eyebrows and came into your home, his free hand dragging you behind him as he led the two of you to the dining table. setting the food down, he quickly turned around to trap you between his arms against the hardwood, staring into your dismayed eyes before he opened his mouth.

“stop being an idiot and calling him in hopes of something more.” there was no gentler way of saying what he did. he just shouldn’t have said it so harshly, tears pricking at your eyes once again, but he didn't pay attention to that as he continued. “you’re wasting your time. just forget and stop wasting your time already. what did that useless bastard have that i don’t? i’m right in front of you, can’t you see?”

taken aback by his choice of words towards the end, you sniffle out a “what do you mean by that?” while wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.

“god, for fuck’s sake, i’m in love with you. what’s so hard to get?!”

taesan’s hands fisted up into balls as he looked away, staring at the canvas on the wall the two of you had made one drunken night. he reminisced how that was the day he realized his feelings for you while he looked up at your face from his comfortable place on your thighs as you laughed at a joke he made quite a while ago. it was from such a long time back, but the hope for anything more vanished when you got together with—

“taesan. look at me.” your bitten lips waited for his head to turn, and right as his eyes met yours, you reached up and kissed him. he was shocked at first, but just as quickly, and tightly, hugged your lower back, pulling you closer to him. your heads moved like a dance neither of you learned but knew wholeheartedly as you each savored the intimate moment you shared.

the temperature in the room started rising as you both grinded against each other. his thumb slipped past the hem of both your bottoms and panties, feeling you moan against his mouth as his finger hooked on to pull them down. at the same time, he laid you down on the bare wood, still not breaking away from you.

you don’t know how, but when you finally broke off, taesan already had his condom covered dick out and rubbing against your slick covered heat. as his tip touched your swelling clit, an open mouthed moan left you before you could bite your lip to stop it from escaping. the boy's usually teasing demeanor came back as he smirked softly, saying “oh, sensitive there, aren’t we?” as he pushed himself a bit harder against that same spot.

swallowing your sounds, you just glare at him, pouting a bit in annoyance. but you have to admit, he is making you feel way better than you could've imagined.

he didn't do anything more than rub along your folds, brings your legs over his one shoulder as his fingers reached to touch you under your shirt. taesan lifted it up to just under your chin, shakily moving the padded bra off your breast. he found it a miracle to be in the position he is at right now, pinching your nipple while he slowly fucks between your thighs. the ludicrous sounds coming out of you enchant him as well, wishing to hear them all night long, to make songs out of them just for his pleasure.

you could feel yourself get wetter, the heat radiating throughout as your throat reacted sensitively. your hands flailed, not having a proper place to hold onto. so you freed your legs from his grasp, putting them on either side of his waist as you hoisted yourself up to talk to him. your voice, hoarse from groans and moans, caught his attention as you spoke.

"taesan, fuck me already please."

he almost moaned at your tone, dripping with command yet still desperate, as he lines up his cock towards your inviting hole. a push in has him reeling over, muttering out “fuck, you’re so hot when you’re bossy.”

he's blinded by his urge, forgetting everything else, as he sets a medium pace soon after filling you up. the ache in your cunt every time he pulled out got satisfied right after as his rubbery hardness re-entered you so easily. curses of satisfaction got thrown at each other as you both got drunk off the spells the two of you have cast, pulling closer and closer until his forehead hits yours.

a soft giggle came out of you at the slight burn, but taesan got worried, his hand coming up to rub where he hurt you. but he joined in with you at the silliness of his mistake. his hips stilled as he did so, starting up once again a couple seconds later, having your breath hitch. he went faster now, hands latching onto your skin wherever he finds them, leaving your mouth slightly agape as your tears returned back to your eyes. only, this time it was because of the pleasure in the present and not the pain of the past.

he can't help as he stutters out a vague 'm cumming, flooding into the condom as he kept his pace in you, riding out his high. you reached your edge too, releasing right as he pulled out. the heavy breaths you let out after were just so tiring, your eyes fluttering as you struggle to keep them open to look at taesan.

he reached down to kiss you once again, tenderly through swollen lips, before helping you up. the only thing he knew he had to do now was to take care of you, holding your waist as he led you to a more comfortable spot of the house. his thumb caresses the back of your hand as he holds you, loving that he is the reason for the state you're in.

[hedwigoprah]

OC as a Companion

I was tagged by @curiouswisp, thank you dearest! I'm absolutely obsessed with the idea of turning Veryl into a companion so I thought A LOT about this. We're talking days. I also got inspired by @biowaredisasterbisexual and the way they approached this tag and included a mini quest line for Veryl.

Companion Questline:

- Because the War of Banners never happened to her in this timeline, she is still comes recommended as The Spectre and is recruited as a Rogue class problem solver. One of the other companions had to verify whispers and then made the suggestion. - Veryl's contact (someone from her team) back at the Necropolis has mentioned there being an artifact that could help in the battle against the gods. Unfortunately, while trying to track down that artifact, you keep encountering an opposing force. First, it's just cronies that aren't supposed to be there. Then it's Sylvester, the De Vries Family Fix-it man. - Veryl puts two and two together and realizes that Amelia De Vries, of Nevarran Nobility and Veryl's benefactor, is also searching for the artifact. Having been open and fairly vulnerable up until this point, she shuts down and avoids talking about it until after Arlathan. - Veryl will explain to Rook their relationship and what's going on before finally asking them to help her confront Amelia. The choice comes in whether or not Veryl kills Amelia or just runs her off.

Dialogue:

Cold/Hostile (-75 to -5)

Greeting: "What can I do for you?" and "Need something?" A bit bored but straight to the point. Devoid of all emotions and all about the mission. She's here to help but that's it. Dismissals: "Alright, then." An understanding of her role and what might be required. "I'll be around." Still trying to uphold aloof demeanor and make sure things don't get too friendly.

Asks about Rook but doesn't easily divulge personal info. If Rook is an Ingellvar, they might ask about the Spectre rumors and she will not answer.

Neutral / Warm (-5 to 74)

Greetings: "You were looking for me? Here I am." and "You're back? Good." She has become more personable and trusting, willing to express an emotional response to Rook. She's happier and less cordial. Dismissal: "When you need me..." It's an inevitability that you'll be back and she's accepted that role. She'll actually ask Rook to call her by Veryl instead and talk about home and what the Necropolis is like and all the weird things that happen there. If Rook is an Ingellvar, Veryl might compare notes if asked.

Friendly (75 to 125)

Greetings: "Good to see you in one piece, let's keep it that way." and "What's on your mind?" A personal vested interest in Rook's well-being. You can hear the smile in her voice. Dismissal: "I'll be here." An assurance that she won't just disappear into the wind.

She'll tell Rook about what she gets up to at home and some of her teammates (codenames only) and her friend Detre. She will also start to explain the Spectre rumors and that not everything is what it seems.

Romanced

Greetings: "Did you see that? The world just got a little brighter. What can I do for you, sunshine?" and "Whatever it is, I'm on your side." and "You seem to glow these days. I like it." Now that you've got her, she's a chatterbox and really sweet about it. Dismissals: "sigh, If you must." And "May the darkness retreat in your presence." and "I'm not going anywhere."

Gentle tags for @notyourmamasdeerbat @strugglinggranola, @trashwithvariety, @paramortality, @sofiemystique if you haven't done this yet or feel like doing it :)

Trivia for your time: Japan has one Vending Machine for every 23 people.

[moonstruckme]

please give us another part of gentleman Steve!!! So so sweet I need to see what happens when they confess their feelings for each other or he asks her out on a date !! I can picture him making a big deal out of “doing it properly” - getting her favourite flowers and asking her out super formally

I'm glad you liked it angel! Thanks for requesting <3

part 1

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

“Whoa.” You raise your eyebrows as Steve comes around to open your car door, though you’ve already opened it partway yourself. “Chivalrous.” 

Steve rolls his eyes but can’t suppress a smile. You can tease him all you want. He is feeling very fucking chivalrous tonight, and proud of it. 

You’re getting the entire first date experience. Steve picked you up at your house, rang the doorbell and everything—a notable improvement from his teenage self, who would’ve just honked. Your sweet little gasp at the bunch of flowers in his hand confirmed that he’d remembered correctly; azaleas are your favorite. You acted shy and flustered, and Steve had been gallant and as charming as he could manage given how pretty you looked. (You’d think he’d be used to you by now, but no. It seems like he might never stop being bowled over by you.) He’s taken you to dinner—where you argued vehemently against him paying the bill—and now a to movie. 

If he’s lucky, Steve hopes you’ll let him drag you out for ice cream after this, or else sit in his car parked in front of your house and keep talking for a while. You can spend a whole day together, and Steve still won’t want to let you go at the end of it. 

He’s too chicken to put his arm around you as you walk into the theater. He can’t remember ever being this nervous on a date before. Steve wonders if he didn’t really care on all the previous ones, or if it’s just that he cares so much more now, but the difference is palpable. His stomach is in knots. He’s very conscious of his hair, which he’d spent time on before coming to get you only to have you mess it up with a fluff of your hand and a you look nice tonight, Stevie. As you approach the concessions, you’re the brave one, taking Steve’s hand to pull him towards the line you deem shortest. 

“What’re you gonna get?” you ask him. 

“I don’t know.” Steve’s heartbroken when you drop his hand, but he tries to put on a brave face. “What’re you thinking?” 

You nibble your lip. Steve feels like his insides are under attack. “I’m thinking…I can’t decide between something chocolatey and something not. Would you wanna split?” 

“Sure,” he says thoughtlessly. Your lip comes free, and it’s a miracle he doesn’t collapse with relief. “But I want junior mints.” 

You wrinkle your nose, laughing. “You’re fucking sick. Junior mints?” 

“Hey, a lot of girls have approved of my choice of junior mints,” Steve says, then wants to die. Jesus Christ. He could not have said anything dumber. 

Not only to lump you in with all the other girls he’s gone out with, but—he has no idea if you’ll be kissing later. He doesn’t want you to think that he cares, or that he’s thinking about it, even if obviously he’s going to be thinking about it. Steve doesn’t know if you’re the type to kiss on the first date. It’s a weird thing to think about, because he knows you. Steve feels like he knows you inside and out, better than almost anybody, but he has no clue what you’re like on a date.

“Well, maybe you just attract sick freaks who like toothpaste-flavored candy.” You shoot him a sideways look, teasing. “Forget splitting, though. I’ll get my own.” 

“More for me.” Steve shrugs. 

At the counter, you fall into the same argument you had at dinner. 

“Stop,” you laugh, trying doggedly to hold your money out to the cashier while Steve blocks you and counts out his own cash. You’re surprisingly strong when you want to be, but not strong enough to move him. “Steve! This isn’t fair.” 

He can’t help laughing a little with you. “Just leave it.” 

“No! You got dinner, it’s my turn.” 

“I’m getting both.” 

“Since when?” You start trying to reach over him, pleading all the while with the cashier to ignore Steve’s money and take yours. You’re acting crazy; it probably makes Steve even crazier that he finds it cute. 

Steve pays. You’re still fighting with him about it as you walk up the stairs in your theater, looking for seats. Steve starts towards the back of the room, but you shoot him a confused look, detouring towards your normal seats in the middle row instead. Again, he wants to hit himself. 

“This is misogyny,” you whisper as you make your way down the row. “What, you think I have to let you pay for everything just because you’re a guy?” 

“I’m paying because I’m the one who asked you out,” he says. “Not because I’m a guy.” 

You stop. Steve thinks you mean to sit down here—it’s not nearly as centered in the row as you usually like to be, but whatever—but when he starts to lower himself into a seat you grab the front of his shirt, keeping him where he is. 

“Steve,” you say, the shifting colors of some ad casting themselves over your face, “is this a date?” 

Steve’s heart falls through his stomach. 

“I—shit. Isn’t it?” he asks, breathless. He feels like he’s had the air knocked out of him. 

For a stretch of seconds, you only look at him. Your mouth tightens and parts; your brows twitch closer together; your tongue pokes into your cheek. Then you say, “Okay.” 

“Okay?” Steve echoes dumbly. 

“Yeah. I mean…” You shrug, doing that thing where you smile with just a little bit of your mouth and a lot of your eyes that landed Steve with this godforsaken crush in the first place. “It’s nice. I’m glad we’re on a date, I just wasn’t expecting it. But I’m happy.” 

“But you didn’t know,” Steve says. You shake your head. “How did you not know? I asked you if you wanted to go to dinner and a movie on a Friday night.” 

You look at him like he’s lost it. “I thought we were just going to dinner and a movie. We get food and watch movies all the time, don’t we?” 

“Yeah, but not together. Like, dinner and a movie is a thing. It’s a known thing.” 

You appear dubious of this. Steve lets out an appalled breath, sinking down into his seat. 

“What about the flowers? And I picked you up at your front door. When have we ever done that?” 

“I thought you just felt like being extra nice.” You sit down next to him, getting situated with your drink in the cupholder and the popcorn in your lap. “You’re kind of moody, you know.” 

“I am not,” he grumbles. 

“You so are.” You laugh, eyes twinkly in the low light. It softens Steve some. You look at him, and your expression does that shifting thing again, like you can’t quite decide how to feel. “Hey, are you mad at me?” 

“No.” 

“Really?” 

“No, I’m not mad.” Steve reaches an arm around your shoulders, rewarded when you lean into him comfortably. He does mean it; he’s a bit indignant that all of his romantic efforts went unnoticed, but at least you’re here. You’re here, and you’re happy to be on a date with him. Now that you know you’re on one. 

It’s a few moments of easy silence like that before you sit up abruptly. “Oh. Were you trying to go to the back row? Like, as a date thing?” 

Steve’s face flushes hot. He’s grateful for the darkened room. “No.” 

“No, you were right.” You start picking up your snacks, standing from your seat. “Let’s move.”

[hestzhyen]

Chapter 84 Legacy Posting

Oh boy, here we go dear void. Short entry this time (by my standards at least).

Editor's Notes: First Page: 対峙する二人... [taiji suru futari...] "The two face off..." Last Page: 想い乗せた一撃が届く... [omoi noseta ichigeki ga todoku...] "A decisive blow brimming with emotions reaches him..."

A Declaration

Go, Chihiro, go!

And here we have the ultimate rebuttal to Samura's stubborn insistence on solving everything by himself: Chihiro has a personal stake in all of this as the son of Rokuhira Kunishige. He doesn't have to bear the burden, but he's refusing Samrua's (misguided) kindness and taking everything on.

I do like the framing of all of this duty as the choice of the children involved. Usually there's a heavy tilt towards "children should be responsible for their parent's mistakes/burdens" or "children must choose their own paths", but Kagurabachi threads the needle and says "it's not that simple".

Chihiro chooses to honour his father's wishes. He understands very well the pain that he's taking on, and he's learning that his father isn't the infallible man he looked up to when he was younger, but he decides to do it anyway. Meanwhile, Hakuri decided to tear it all down- and it wasn't framed as him shirking his duty or atoning for his father's sins. It was the right thing to do. So far, Iori wanted to be like Samura and protect him. Her decision might change depending on how this fight turns out, but it's not going to be some heavy-handed message about how she's responsible for what he did.

It's always framed as a choice the kids are making based on what they know and believe. They aren't responsible for their parent's actions but choose to act based on the results of them. I love it. I'll admit my life experience makes me extremely skeptical of stories that try to say kids must fix the problems their parents caused- it's a strong bias I always have. So Kagurabachi framing things as kids consciously choosing to do what they can to make the world a better place is very satisfying. People are trying to say "no you don't need to, live your life" and they're saying "I want to help make the world a better place". Well, Hakuri was denied his chance, but it was a good thing in that case. Regardless, inter-generation cooperation is the way to go!

Echoes

The future is now, old man.

There's something to be said for how goddamn stubborn Samura is. It's beyond reason, right? Like holy shit you're blind not deaf, listen to all the people who care about you and want you to live instead of going on some suicidal atonement mission. Your freakin' daughter wants and needs you in her life! The little girl you promised your ex-wife you'd protect!

As a friend mentioned, Samura's mindset strongly echoes someone who's mentally ill. I'm pretty sure everyone's been down in the dumps once in their life- everything sucks, nothing's okay, and it never will be. But we get over it with some time and (ideally) support. Samura, though, is in the fucking depths. Anyone who's thought the world would genuinely be better off without them, that's him. The mind is a shitshow sometimes and it will tell some of us "hey, they love you, so stop being a burden and make their lives easier by offing yourself already". Which is a bunch of nonsense but it's compelling nonsense that feels right. Nothing really gets through that fog without treatment and a hell of a lot of persistence.

So while it's a bit annoying as a reader to see this guy dig in his heels and refuse the hope that everyone around him's trying to shove in his arms, I get it. He's guilty AF about the past and feels like he can't be redeemed- and that his presence is a burden on Iori. So if he dies and takes out the Sword Master with him then yay yippie everyone can be happy.

It's not that simple nor is that actually a good solution (which I talked a bit about last chapter). It's just the one that feels right to Samura so Chihiro will literally have to break Tobimune to stop this guy.

Which he... might have done this chapter? Maybe he just nicked or fractured it? It looks like Chihiro's will got through to Samura at least a little bit. Only breaking Tobimune in full will really stop Samura in full but maybe damaging it will give Iori and the Masumi an opening to be heard.

The Masumi!

I missed you guys too!

Not much to say other than I'm glad they're in this fight and that Ro pointed out the obvious: if Samura healed his own goddamn eyes, then the Masumi's ninja tactics wouldn't be much of a hindrance to him. But he wants to remain blind (symbolism!) and so he can't see what's really important. But Ro's got a more accurate measure of him now that one of his sunglass lenses is broken. Really nice touch in the art this chapter.

One MORE Thing, Jackieee

Is that Chihiro's "aura", as the kids say?

Samura trying to spare the kids is noble, yes. Gone over that a bunch. And Chihiro's rebuttal is basically an emphatic let us get hurt.

Parents often try to prevent their kids from experiencing the same problems in the same ways that they did- abuse, war, etc. They generally want their kids lives to be better than theirs were.

But.

If those parents who had rough lives don't get help and work on their own issues, they will just pass the trauma on in a different way. Like here: Samura tried to spare Iori, but he just reinforced her trauma of loved ones leaving/abandoning her. He needs ALL the fucking therapy and to give a massive apology to her- then commit to working on his issues.

Because as sympathetic as he is, as understandable as his actions and beliefs are at this point, they're still wrong. He's doing wrong by Iori, Inori's memory, Chihiro, Uruha, the Masumi, even Kunishige's memory at this point. What Chihiro's trying to get through to Samura here is, in my mind, the idea that it's better to live with the pain and stay with what you find hope in than give it all up and assume it'll improve other people's lives. Just fucking live, bro! Iori needs you even if you've got a mountain of grief that makes you want to die. She needs you as you are and who you can be, not who you think you are. Share that pain with her so she can understand and help you.

Obviously this isn't advocating for parents to treat their kids like therapists or act like emotional vampires (been there, it screws a kid up). But being open that you're not okay is okay. Letting Iori know you've got a bad past that you need to overcome is okay. Letting her find ways that she wants to help is okay. Share the past and prevent a warped future in truth. Because right now Samura's just sending Iori (and the other young people who care about him) down a different fucked up path than the one he was on instead of truly creating something better.

Okay... hoping for glimpses of Hakuri and Uruha and maybe even Azami next week, but not betting on it. Take care of yourself dear void- you deserve it.

[thezombieprostitute]

Favors

Summary: Charles needs Ransom's connections to get him into a fancy party where he's supposed to meet up with his latest target, a woman who's recently come into a lot of money. Ransom brings Charles as his plus one.

Part of the Garbagemen AU

A/N: Reader is 30+ female. No other physical descriptors used.

Ransom stares at his reflection. He uses to just make sure everything looked perfect, that he looked the part he acted every day. But ever since Lloyd's interrogation, he just keeps looking at the scars on his torso.

There aren't that many, Steve's people managed to get to him before too much was done. It's been long enough that they've faded considerably. But they're still there. They still shock him when he sees them.

His thoughts are interrupted by Hem, his orange polydactyl cat, jumping into the bathroom sink. Distracted from his reflection, Ransom softly smiles and pets Hem, fighting the temptation to turn the water on.

Before, Ransom's nightmares had been awful. He tried to shake it off, act like everything was ok, that he was strong. Barnes saw right through him because he'd gone through it himself. He talked about how his own cat, Alpine, helped him out and recommended Ransom find a companion as well. Eager for anything that might help, Ransom went to a local shelter, one sponsored by The Family. He sat in one of the cat play areas, intent on letting a cat choose him, understanding that they tend to be less open to strangers. Something he could relate to.

While sitting and watching the cats he was too distracted to notice the orange sneaking up on him until it attacked his coat and started gnawing at the bottom hem. Ransom tried to remove the cat but it was insistent on bringing down it's prey. When he finally got it to let go of his coat, it went for the hem of his sleeve and pulled. To his surprise, Ransom had laughed and opted to pet the cat as it gnawed on his jacket. He should be furious, the jacket is quite expensive, but he appreciates a kindred spirit: someone who also goes after what they want, regardless of the cost.

And that's how he ended up with Hem, named for the author who was known for polydactyl cats, and for his favorite part of clothing to attack.

Ransom continues to pet Hem until a knock at the door gets their attention. He quickly puts on some clothes and heads to the front door, grabbing Hem so he doesn't try to run out.

He opens the door to reveal Charles Blackwood. Ransom almost closes the door on his face.

"What are you doing here?"

"Good to see you, too, Ran," Charles sarcastically replies. Looking at Hem he smirks, "didn't think you'd ever be so desperate for pussy."

"What are you doing here?" Ransom reiterates.

"Ok, ok. All business it is," he replies, holding up his hands in surrender. "I'm here to call in my favor."

Ransom almost growls as he stands aside so Charles can enter. As soon as the door is closed, Ransom sets Hem down and leads Charles to his office. Hem hisses at Charles before running off to one of his towers.

"Never thought you'd get a pet," Charles shakes his head.

"People change."

"Not me," he smirks.

"I was afraid you'd say that," Ransom grouses. He walks over to his drinks. "So that means an Old Fashioned is still your drink of choice."

"That it is," the other man confirms.

Ransom mixes the drink, sans the orange peel and hands it to Charles. "So who's the target and why do you need me?"

Charles takes and sip and gives a small, appreciative moan. "You heard about the Kent case, of course."

Ransom nods in confirmation. "Still in the courts to determine how much he has to pay."

Charles takes a bigger sip of the Old Fashioned. "He's already had to liquidate some assets to cover his ass. Bunch of it was land surrounding an old iron mine. He owned the land around and on top of the mine but he didn't own the mine itself."

"So first he sells off the land that he can't use."

"He'd hoped to squeeze out the owner of the mine, force her to sell, but she never caved. But the land was bought up by your guy, Wilson, and they were able to negotiate quite the deal with her."

"So she was interested in more than money."

"Yeah, something about making sure her workers get to keep their union or something," Charles shrugs. "The important thing is, she still got a ton of money from the deal."

"And how do you expect me to help you get it?"

"She's gotten an invite to the latest Rogers soiree and I know you've got a standing invite plus one."

"Rogers won't appreciate you moving on one of his guests."

"He won't know," Charles promises. "I just need an in, chat her up, charm her. I won't even stay for the whole party. Just enough to plant the hook, and then you're in the clear."

"It's still risky," Ransom warns. "You're not as well known around here, but there's still a chance. And if I get caught bringing a conman to one of his parties, Rogers will cut me off, if not worse."

"Then make sure you don't get caught," Charles winks. Ransom glares at him and he rolls his eyes, pulling out a business card. "It's one of my aliases."

"Charles...Xavier?" Ransom raises an eyebrow. "That's such a dumb name."

"Hey, it works for what I need," Charles retorts.

Ransom brings out his phone and calls Wilson to let him know he'll be bringing a guest. Once he hangs up he expects Charles to leave.

"Oh, I'm not leaving," Charles smiles. "I need a place to stay until the event." He doesn't say out loud the part where he doesn't trust Ransom to not sell him out. He doesn't need to. They've both played this game before.

Next

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @iwudbutnah; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @kmc1989; @lokislady82; @peaches1958; @ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63;

[hongjoongspoetry]

ajhbdajhsbfjahdfja this was absolutely amazing, gosh the emotions I went through reading this, I hope though all my thoughts and comments makes sense cuz I'm dead tired from work as I'm writing this (apologies in advance if some of it doesn't make sense😅)

Girl you have nothing to apologise for. Never did I once expect someone to write a bible-lengthy "review" on one of my fics, but im so fucking here for it!!

First of all what a cool but also kinda scary concept of having a metal chip in your arm which showcases how much in danger your soulmate is in!! And the name?! Soulometer!! That's such a good name for it!!

Now that I think about it, I could easily have made it into a horror story instead- Thank you for the lovely comment, imo, I thought "soulometer" sounded silly but I couldn't come up with anything better 😭🩷

Not the mc having Hongjoongs laugh as her ring tone💀 but also lowkey iconic of her to just let it be and own it even if it means she might be put in some awkward situations from time to time when her phone rings.

AHAHAHAHAAH personally, id never do that. considering we both are from sweden, imagine if you were on the bus and hongjoong's maniac laugh just rings out during rush hour- I swear on my cat, I'd make the bus stop and then throw myself in front of it 😭🤭

The light bickering between her and Hongjoong as they speak while she's on her way home made me chuckle because it feels so natural and fun. They kinda sound like me and my friends when we text each other😅

Sidenote: Reading your reblog made me realize just how much value I put in creating "a good" friendship for my characters. BUT DUDE IM SO HAPPY TO HEAR MY DIALOGUES ARE SOUNDING SOMEWHAT NATURAL AND REAL. Creating a good and realistic dialogue has been one of my biggest "weaknesses" when it comes to writing, as I tend to want everything to be perfect. and we all know real life dialogues are far from perfect, considering incorrect grammar, usage of words and flow is being used in a convo. so thank you so much for saying that 🥹

Another thing, I literally live for your reaction memes 😭 They fit so well into every scenario you wanna comment or thought you wanna share 🙂‍↕️

"[...] A lot in his appearance changed, but the cuts and bruises remained, pouring acid on your tongue." The last sentence🥺😭 it's like the both of them can't believe that the other one is there. I think it's clear from the way Mingi is reacting to her being in front of him that this was not something he had planned. Not even sure he knew it was her place he was in front of... Oh I also get the vibe that despite her not wanting to see him her feelings are conflicting with each other, like a raging storm within which cannot decide which way to go.

I love that your vibe/gut feeling is correct! Fate (literally) and the magic sprinkle of the soulmate bond brought them together 😈 Like they can't avoid each other forever, and Mingi knows that, obviously, but the MC thinks everything is just a coincidence 🤭

I do believe a part of her is relieved to see him hence why she invites him in to her home. Because even when you're sometimes furious at someone who hurt you in the past you might still be yearning to know they're okay, thoughts floating to them from time to time as you might reminisce on the past. I do believe both of them have been doing that from time to time even if one of them might not admit to doing it.

YES! And pair that off with the fact that they are soulmates. They are literally born to be together (whether it's romantic or platonic). They are the one song stuck in their minds that they can't stop hearing in their heads, no matter what. Their meetings are inevitable and all of their choices would lead up to them meeting again. So the MC inviting Mingi to her apartment, was both her own doing but also an invincible pull from the soulmate bond.

HAHAHAHAH I CANT GET OVER THE BLUSHY MEME PICTURES- WHY DOES THE POKEMON LOOK SO FREAKING MISCHEVIOUS AFKHAEKF

And the thumb on his lips moment!! Excuse me while I go giggle a bit to myself before composing myself lol🤭💓

The thumb on the lip moment is an event that lives rent free in my mind. Like it can either be a perfectly good move or a disatser 😭 But I love to use it 😈

I also am getting the vibes here that Mingi is not over her at all, mc might be closer to letting him go but Mingi is giving me the vibes that he truly never forgot about her and wants a relationship again but is unsure of how to proceed or how to even mend what has been broken in the past, you know.

Yeah, Mingi never really forgot about her. Like she was the one that got away and he has literally no one to blame but himself. And it takes so much on him because he knows they are destined for each other. As much as it hurts him to be selfless, it also hurts him to be selfish and "keep" her with him... my mingi 😔

Not Jongho and Wooyoung distracting her with all kinds of antics💀😭 but also those two are like the best combination of distraction because Jongho tries at first to gauge and see if she wants to talk and when the answer is no he immediately goes on to distract her in different ways together with Wooyoung. Like what do you mean Wooyoung slid her a package of gummies before sprinting out of her office?!😭 that's adorable and would get anyone in a better mood🥺💕

Wooyoung would literally KILL for his friends, so I just had to include him here. And Jongho, even if hes the youngest in the group, I feel like hed go over and beyond to help his members/other people he keeps close to his heart. And if that's not enough, what better combo than two menaces 😭 I also feel like we don't get to see Jongho be included, even if hes a "side character", and I really enjoy writing Jongho whether its his fic or not.

*sniff* he cares so much about her, he even got her tangerines😭 and PEELED ONES AT THAT?! 😩💓 he loves her so much like that's true love right there, even as a teen the fact that he took his time to get her her favorite fruit cuz she didn't eat lunch and then go on and peel it and make sure it's completely "naked" with no white parts and all of that jazz. It's acts of service like this that imo shows how much someone really cares and in this instant I feel like Mingi cares so much about her, probably memorizing small details like this one. Eg. he could have just given her the tangerine and not done anything more than that but no he knew her preferences and decided to make sure it was the way she liked it before giving it to her to eat.

"HE NEVER FORGOT ABOUT THE TANGERINES!!!!" I scream as they drag me to the dungeon. No, but fr, that would be my sign to return to my ex, boxing or no boxing. Listen, everyone, get yourself a partner like Mingi who pays attention to the smallest of details and who actually listens to you.

That must have been so terrifying, realizing that first of all your ex boyfriend and potentially first love is your soulmate and then realizing if you don't do anything now you'll potentially loose him forever if the soulometer is anything to go by. Sprinting as fast as you can as the world is probably moving in slow-motion as you hope you won't be too late in body slamming your soulmate so the car won't hit him. What a scary feeling that must be and oh so overwhelming with everything hitting you at once.

Literally imagine you find your soulmate and are on the brink of losing them in the same SECOND. Bro, I fear I'd never recover mentally. Like id be gone- And if it wasn't a fluff event, believe me Mingi would've died then and there. Just because im a menace who loves angst. But that's not related to this rn AHAHAHH. but yes, I really tried to explain the panic and fear the MC was in while trying to save her soulmate, and I hope I did at least convey some of it :3

And Mingi making sure to protect her with his hand protecting her head and the other one going around her waist to make sure she won't hit the ground too hard🥺

One thing about me I will always write gentleman!teez. I believe in gentleman!teez supremacy til the day I die and no one can convince me otherwise.

I'M GOING THROUGH IT HERE😭😭 Mina how can you do this to me😭 I need them both to never get into a single bad situation ever again I don't think my heart could take it💔

IM SO SORRY ESTHER!!! 😭 (muhahahahehehhehehe😈😈😈)

SO HE DID KNOW😭

HE KNEW ALL THIS TIME!!!! DOESNT THAT MAKE EVERYTHING HURT TEN TIMES MORE

oh boy... mc is so valid in her anger but I'm so conflicted because Mingi obviously loves her so much so he must have a good reason as to why he didn't tell her. Perhaps he felt as if he was only hurting her and that she didn't deserve to be with someone who only made her worry and get upset but at the same time that's not something he gets to decide all on his own without telling her first...

bro... did you like hack into my google documents planner? because why the hell have u been correct in every theory?? What is this sorcery????

asking shyly for permission to kiss someone is one of the best tropes to ever exist😌💕✨

On god, I don't even want a kiss if the other party doesn't ask like a lil nerd... LIKE YES OFC KISS ME DAMMIT KHFWKEJF

I'm in shambles at the ending😭 what a perfect ending to their story Minaaa😭😭💓💓 this was so good, so amazing the tension, the past coming back, the love between them and the way they care so deeply even if there is anger between them. ughhhh just everything 💗 Honestly just amazing spectacular and just everything you'd need in a soulmate au🥰

Thank you so much Esther. For reading and taking the time to write everything down. From your thoughts to the amazing pictures. I honestly can't thank you enough and I don't even deserve you 🩷🥹

Sparks and Bruises | Song Mingi

🥊 Summary: In a world where everyone at the age of eighteen gets a metal meter implanted on their wrist that shows the amount of danger your soulmate is in. You and Mingi have known each other since high school, but went through a nasty fallout after his love for boxing turned into a dangerous gamble with his life as the price. Years later, you stumble over his injured form on the doorstep of your apartment building. Not having the heart to turn him away like all those years ago, you invite him inside with the intention to clean his wounds, but get a lot more than you bargained for.

🥊 Pairing(s): Underground boxer!Mingi x Real estate agent!Reader, brief Hongjoong x Seonghwa

🥊 Genres/Tropes: Soulmate AU, non-idol AU, second chance AU, fluff, exes to friends to lovers, angst (more than what I planned on)

🥊 Warnings/Tags: female reader, no use of (Y/N), reader is allergic to peanuts so go with it for the plot, brief description of bruises and cuts, explicit language, crying, kissing, car accident, pet names (love, sugar, sweets), mentioned hospital, flashbacks, not beta read

🥊 Wordcount: 12.5K

🥊 Author's Note: Click the image for a better resolution (Tumblr I hate you). I just got off work (it's like 10 pm here), so I'm super tired and can barely keep my eyes open. Anyway, this is the last instalment of the Cherry Blossom March Event and while I'm sad it's over, I'm also happy because now I can focus on finishing my other stories!! A big thank you to everyone who took the time out of their day to read, leave notes and comments on my works <3 Btw I am no real estate agent and everything you read in this fic is based on excessive research (which could very well be wrong).

This is all fiction and not meant to represent any idols involved in any way or form. This work is rated SFW, however it contains explicit scenes, not sexual content but descriptions of minor injuries as well as matures themes. Minors, please, read at your own risk and refrain from interacting or following my blog!

AO3 Masterpost Moodboard

The arrow inside the plate on your wrist, no bigger than a lighter, irregularly traveled back and forth, going from one end of the meter to the other. For some, it would be worrisome and  concerning, but for you, it was the opposite. You had yet to meet your soulmate. The person responsible for the occasional spike in your soulometer — the metal chip showing how much danger your soulmate was in. A mandatory procedure ordered by the government a couple of decades ago, probably one of the dumbest things the rulers of the world ever implemented into society.

“We have thought it over and… We’ll sign the contract!”

You were startled as the couple attending your showing returned from their not-so-private discussion on the other side of the kitchen. The faceless person you were supposedly destined to be with — as much as a machine could decide your destiny — occupied your thoughts more often than not, even while at work.

You put on your million-dollar smile and clasped your hands together. “Perfect. Shall we set a date for you to sign the papers then?”

The couple was expecting and in need of a bigger place than their flat, which could barely fit the two of them. After many buts and ifs, the newly wed pair eagerly agreed and a date was set. You didn’t usually have showings late into the night, but considering the husband worked early mornings until late evenings, and the wife wanted him to be present, you made an exception. Money was money, after all, and you were always in need of it.

Declining their offer to drive you home, you bid the happy couple goodbye and locked up after yourself. The apartment wasn’t too far from your place and you didn't think it would be necessary to order a cab for a ten minute walk despite it being quite late. The stiletto heels you decided to wear that morning made it feel like thirty instead and you quickly regretted being a cheapskate. Why did you have to make your life more insufferable than it already was? You only needed the sky to open up and let a waterfall of rain seep down on Seoul. At least you were smart enough to wear pants and a turtleneck instead of a dress or skirt. Despite it being late March where flowers decorated the bland parks and the trees grew out their long-awaited hair again, it felt like the start of winter. 

“This is what you get for listening to Iggy Azalea,” you hissed to yourself as a familiar burn spread through your pinky toes and the back of your feet.

A crazed laughter cut through the chilly air and you automatically reached for the phone in your purse. Setting the ringtone as your best friend’s giggle was a good idea when you were still in high school and just recently turned eighteen. It wasn’t as fun when you were a woman of twenty-something-something years old with an image to uphold and your face plastered on a few boards all through town with your phone number scribbled beneath in big, bold font followed by a text literally begging people to reach out. You swore to change it every time someone called, but the thought always got lost in the shuffle of your other hundred tasks waiting to be done.

You braced yourself for it to be another client calling in the dead of night, but it turned out to be one of your saved contacts. Swiping right and putting the phone up to your ear, you answered with a tired, “Hello.”

“Finally! She answers!”

“Some of us still have work, Hongjoong. Do you know how many times I had to apologize for my ringtone?”

The identical maniac laugh recorded into your phone years ago, erupted from the device and you rolled your eyes. 

“And yet you never change it. After all these years, you still have my voice as your ringtone… That’s quite romantic.”

“Watch it or I’ll have a wild Park come for my head.”

“Seonghwa would never do that.” You let the line fall silent and Hongjoong could hear your pointed look on the other side. “Okay, he probably would. Where are you anyways?! I can hear cars in the background.”

So the bass boosted headphones hadn’t ruined his hearing yet. All those times he ignored you were on purpose then. Good to know.

“I’m on my way home from work. Had a showing a few minutes ago and it went well actually.”

Another voice accompanied Hongjoong on the other line, but you couldn’t quite make out the words. 

“Seonghwa is scolding you for not calling one of us to drive you home and I have to agree with him, sprout. It’s not safe to be out this late.”

The nickname sent you down memory lane dating all the way back to middle school, when you and Hongjoong were the shortest kids in class but didn’t let that hinder you from showing off your talents and wits. Hongjoong a smart kid who excelled in everything from math to musical history while you burned everyone in debates, presentations, speeches, basically anything relate to public speaking. Hence your choice of profession.

“I know, but it really slipped my mind and it’s not even that far from my flat, I promise. Like I’m almost there, just a few more minutes. I can practically see the building lights from here.”

“Good. Stay with me on the call until you enter though. Now, let me tell you about this guy who tried to steal my laptop…”

If he could, Hongjoong would have talked for hours which was quite rare. The man was usually drained from being cooped up in his studio all day, running on zero sleep and five iced coffees. It was in fact how you became friends. 

The kid with round chipmunk cheeks and a menacing smile approached the girl sitting in the back of the class, not making a peep. Hongjoong kicked up a conversation by complimenting the pink bows in your hair — a little detail none of your other classmates had noticed, let alone found them pretty — and offering you a peanut butter cookie that you sadly had to decline because of your allergies. Instead of ending the interaction at your meek thank you, Hongjoong took it as an official proposition of becoming friends. Seven year old Hongjong refused to go back to his seat and even nearly threw a tantrum in class, leaving the homeroom teacher with no other choice than to make you seatmates. 

You and Hongjoong quickly became a duo. Wherever you went, he followed. It marked the start of a long lasting friendship you wouldn’t trade for the world. 

“...Can you imagine that?! He grabbed my stuff and proceeded to lie straight to my face!”

You hummed into the phone at his rambling. A smile graced your face as you neared your apartment building, but disappeared quickly. Hongjoong’s voice became background noise as you slowed down. A figure dressed in all black and a hood thrown over their head sat at the doorsteps. Both arms planted on their knees and head shoved into the palms of their hands. The person was on the taller side and looked quite buff beneath the baggy clothes. You didn’t recognize them as one of your neighbours, but the swooping feeling in your stomach hinted on something else. 

Not heeding Hongjoong’s previous warning of being cautious, you decided to approach the stranger. The clicking of your heels interrupted the peaceful silence of the night and the person immediately looked in your direction. Sharp and angry eyes met yours, and the furious spark swirling in them morphed into surprise. Your heart jumped in your throat as you recognized the person. Of all the people in the world, you certainly didn’t expect to find him at your doorstep.

“Hongjoong? I’ll have to call you back.”

“What? Why? What happened?”

“Nothing– Or well, something, but nothing dangerous– I’ll just call you back okay?”

“...You sure?”

“Yes, one hundred percent.”

“Okay. Talk to you later then.” 

You quickly pressed the red button and lowered your phone. The man was still staring at you, the fear that his imagination was playing a trick on him lingering. That if he looked away, you’d disappear from his line of sight.

Sweat spread along your palms and your pulse was loud in your ears as you walked up to the man.

“Mingi?” 

He scrambled up to his feet and took hold of the railing with one hand while the other pressed against his left rib and a surprised wince slipped through his lips. 

“Long time no see, huh?”

Your eyes darted all over him. Red and blue blemishes covered almost the entire surface of his face and trickles of sweat ran down the side of his face. You didn’t want to think what hid beneath his clothes. 

The last time you saw him was all the way back in high school. A scrawny boy with legs for days, but the coordination of a newborn foal and a smile that lit up your world. The man before you grew into his big features and lost the youthful look. The pointy nose and plump lips were still there, but accompanied by prominent cheekbones, a sharp jaw, a piercing gaze and a chiseled face that wasn’t the shape of a triangle. His hair, once black and short, was now a dark shade of brown and longer than ever, reaching below his nape and bangs falling over his brows. A lot in his appearance changed, but the cuts and bruises remained, pouring acid on your tongue. 

Ignoring the bitterness pooling in your stomach, you decided to keep the conversation civil. A stark contrast to how your last encounter went. 

”Are you… alright?”

“Yeah, no, I was on my way home, but just needed to sit down…”

You weren’t going to pry despite clearly seeing he was anything but alright. If he didn’t want to tell you, who were you to force him? 

Offering him a light smile, you tried keeping the tone light. “What are the odds of you sitting on my doorstep, huh?” 

“Yeah… How long has it been since…”

“Four? Five? Five years.”

Mingi whistled lowly and a silence occupied the street. Everyone decided to stay in as no cars or other people lingered around. You wouldn’t say it was uncomfortable, but it wasn’t pleasant either and you didn’t know what to do. Leaving him out in the cold wasn’t an option, but inviting him didn’t sound right either. After a long fight between your brain and heart, you decided to listen to the beating organ in your chest.

“Wanna… come up? To my apartment.”

Mingi looked up at you through his fringe and the soft roundness to his eyes teleported you back to high school. Keeping your composure, you hastily added on to the sentence.

“T-To, to clean up and maybe have something to eat?”

Had someone asked you five years ago what you’d say to Mingi if the opportunity presented itself, you surely wouldn’t have invited him to your home or offered him a free meal. The most he’d get out of you would be a one-finger salute. Fast forward one thousand eight hundred and twenty five days and Mingi was lent a helping hand instead. It was enough time for you to mature into a more rational woman who could, for better or for worse, put her feelings aside and think with her brain. 

Mirrors surrounded the entire inside of the elevator, even on the doors, and you held back from laughing at the reflection. There couldn’t have been an odder pair than you two. Mingi, dressed in all black with colorful blotches decorating his intimidating face, and you, wearing designer from head to toe. Even your bags were opposites — his a dingy gym bag that was a thread away from falling apart and yours from the recent Louis Vuitton collection. It was quite a funny look, but not a bone in your body vibrated with glee.

As the elevator doors closed and the mechanism carried you up the many flights of stairs, the reality dawned upon you. A multitude of questions you hadn’t thought of before inviting Mingi inside popped up like mosquitoes during summer nights — annoying, but unavoidable. The poor attempt of convincing yourself it was just a kind gesture, a friend helping a friend, you couldn’t shoo away the nagging fact that nothing of your and Mingi’s past was platonic. Shame and guilt curled in the pit of your stomach. Knowing your soulmate was out there somewhere, probably waiting for you, while you were cozying up to a man who wasn’t meant to be yours in the first place was sickening. 

The ding of your arrival sounded through the speakers and you quickly went first with Mingi hot on your heels. Unlocking your front door, you threw the keys in a bowl the shape of a fish — a housewarming gift from Hongjoong — and stripped your outerwear. It was first when you put your stuff aside that you realized Mingi was still standing by the door and hadn’t moved since crossing the threshold. The man was shamelessly taking in his surroundings and you wondered what he thought of your apartment. Was it to his liking? Did it suit you? Did he like it? Why did you care?

“Uhm, you can just hang your stuff here,” you gestured to the coat rack mounted to the wall, “while I get dinner ready.”

You didn’t wait around to see him subtly nod, instead you made an escape to the safety of your kitchen. It was weird having Mingi over. It was weird being civil to one another. The tension was still there since your last encounter, like static in the air that wouldn’t really go away. The soft pad of feet grew louder and you threw a look over your shoulder to see Mingi in the doorway, his bottom lip caught between his teeth and eyes darting all over the place. Aside from his appearance, it seemed that his habits hadn’t changed — good as bad — but it wasn’t your place to pry. Not anymore.

“Is it alright if I… wash up now?”

A heat crawled up your neck and attacked your cheeks. “Y–Yeah, of course!” You cleared your throat and continued, “The bathroom is on the left of the hallway and there are towels in the cupboard above the washing machine.”

Mingi nodded, but didn’t budge from his spot. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants and leaned against the doorframe to take on a relaxed posture, yet he looked anything but relaxed.

“I… I– Uhm, don’t… I kinda don’t have a spare set of clothes to change into…”

“Oh… Oh!”

“Yeah,” he inhaled sharply through his teeth, a low hiss escaping as he tried to ignore the stiff atmosphere. 

“That’s alright! I think I have something you can use. Uhm, you can start washing up while I see what I can do.”

Rummaging through your closet for your brother’s clothes to lend Mingi wasn’t something you ever imagined doing in all your years of living, but here you were. Hunched over, searching like a madwoman for an extra hoodie and some basketball shorts or a pair of sweatpants that wouldn’t be too small on the giant currently occupying your bathroom. Your brother had been in your apartment a grand total of three times and by some stroke of luck, he’d left behind clothes he thought might come in handy for his next visit. Who knew they’d be useful for more than just that? 

You didn’t find a hoodie, but you did spot a black compression shirt and a pair of matching sweatpants that would have to do. You just hoped they wouldn’t be too tight. To be on the safe side, you even snagged one of your brother’s boxers. It was one thing to share clothes and another thing to share underwear, but if you got to choose, you’d happily accept the fresh pair instead of reusing your sweaty undies. The choice was up to Mingi in the end. With the clothes neatly folded in your hands, you marched toward the bathroom and triple knocked on the door.

“Uh, I found some clothes you can use!”

The harsh drops of the shower abruptly stopped and you patiently waited for a response, but nothing came. You raised your hand, fingers balled into a fist, and as you swung it forward to knock again, the door suddenly opened. A cloud of steam escaped from the hot bathroom and Mingi’s very naked body appeared in the slight opening. His stomach was a perfect display of muscle, each of the six abs sculpted like marble. You would’ve ogled longer hadn’t the raspberry and plum colored blemishes covered a huge part of his toned skin. His hair dripped on the tiled floor and a white towel hung dangerously low on his hips. The warmth tickling your whole body evaporated into a numbing cold at the bruises. Swallowing nervously, you forced your eyes back up. 

Mingi flicked his head sideways to move the wet strands from his face and his tongue darted out to lap at his dry lips, a motion you followed attentively. The raise of his brow, a silent question urging you to speak up, had you stumbling over your words.

“S–So, I... I, uh, found something you can… change into!” 

The clothes were thrust harshly into his bare chest, and Mingi nearly dropped the towel in order to catch them. Before he could utter so much as a "thanks," you bolted back to the kitchen and whipped out leftovers from last night. Anything to keep you busy and distracted from the jaw-dropping image that refused to leave you alone. Mingi eventually joined you in the kitchen. He leaned against the counter beside the stove, where you guarded the kimchi stew from overheating, and crossed his arms over his chest. The already prominent muscles grew more defined beneath the tight fabric. It was difficult to ignore his gaze peering down at you, and you couldn’t decide if your cheeks flared from a natural bodily reaction or from the heat of the stove.

The circular table behind you was already set, with a pair of utensils and plates aligned opposite each other. You removed the pot and placed it in the center of the table, silently beckoning Mingi to take a seat. His hair was still wet, but not dripping and despite wearing clothes, you couldn’t muster up the courage to look him in the eyes. The late dinner was done in a deafening silence interrupted by the clink of utensils and lip smacking. Not able to bear the thickness in the air, you cleared your throat and asked the first thing to pop up in your mind. 

“Um… do you... want me to treat your bruises?” 

The confidence you spent years mastering and using in your daily life deflated like a dramatic balloon flying around the room until it fell limply on the floor. Mingi was mid shoving food into his mouth and froze as soon as the words reached his ears. His lips were parted enough for you to catch a glimpse of his slightly crooked front tooth and a wave of nostalgia hit you square in the nose. The man before you had changed so much, yet not at all.

Mingi took a bite of the kimchi and rice to buy himself time to think your proposal over. It wasn’t a bad shout as you did have experience treating his wounds considering you were the one tending to him back in high school. He slowly chewed and swallowed, and you were starting to regret ever opening your mouth.

“Sure,” he answered while giving his full attention to the bowl of stew before him and you  couldn’t have been more relieved. He didn’t have to see the way you bit the inside of your cheek, tightly gripped your spoon or raised your brows to your hairline.

The rest of the meal was eaten in silence and for once, you didn’t care if it wrapped around your throat and suppressed the air from entering your lungs. This was all so surreal. There wasn’t a day where you thought you’d be eating left-over kimchi stew with your ex-boyfriend and then agree to treat his wounds — the thing that drove you apart all those years ago. The universe worked in a funny way. Instead of bringing you closer to your soulmate, it led you straight to the past. 

Putting the bowls in the sink, you gestured for Mingi to return to the bathroom while you put away the dishes. It hadn’t dawned on you that by helping Mingi treat his wounds, you’d have to merge your personal bubbles into one and actually touch him, even if it was as much as a graze of your fingertips along his skin.

Rounding the corner of the hallway and stopping before the entrance to the bathroom with a medkit in your hands, you were caught off guard by the image before you. Mingi was seated on the toilet lid, hunched over with his forearms resting on his thighs. You could see the top of his head — something you rarely did back in high school — as he faced the tiled floor. A swoop in your stomach urged you to run your fingers through his strands, but the impulse was quickly shut down. You stepped into the bathroom with feigned confidence. Mingi looked up as your sock-clad feet came into view, your big toes wiggling nervously. You placed the kit on the sink and grabbed the things you needed, starting with alcohol wipes. There wasn’t much you could do about the colored bruises already turning an ugly shade of yellow and purple, but the few cuts — like the one on his bottom lip and around his eyebrows — were easier to treat.

“This may sting,” you whispered, shuffling closer to him.

Mingi parted his legs to give you better access to his face. You put a finger beneath his chin and tilted it upward before gently dabbing the wipe against his brow ridge. A hiss filled the bathroom, but you didn’t stop cleaning the wound. Despite not being in this situation since high school, when Mingi would get his ass beat in the boxing ring and show up at your door with new cuts adorning his face every other weekend, you still remembered all the steps of the treatment. They were etched into your spine and controlled your limbs without a strain.

Your lips were pressed into a thin line, your brows almost touching from how deeply furrowed they were and Mingi wanted to smooth out the skin between them, but did no such thing. Instead, he diverted his attention elsewhere and focused on your lips, which he’d argue was the worse choice of the two. Scooping a generous amount of ointment on a Q-tip, you dabbed it on the cut and finished it off with a small band-aid that smoothly blended in with his hue. You tried to put off treating his lips, but apparently even Mingi had a limit to how many punches to the face he could take, and you eventually had to bite the sour apple and just get it over with.

It had been silent since you warned him about the sting from the alcohol wipes, broken only by a few of his grunts and hisses. Yet, the silence never felt as loud as it did in that moment when you cupped his chin in your left hand and stared intently at his plump lips. A determined heat swirled in your eyes and Mingi couldn’t look away. It took everything in him not to instinctively bite down on his bottom lip or run his tongue over it.

“Relax your lips,” you said, brushing your thumb along the bottom row. 

You didn’t realize what you had done until a second later and Mingi couldn’t chuckle at your appalled expression, as he was equally frozen in place. Both of you were left wide-eyed, mouths hanging open and brains going haywire. A pleading sparkle glimmered in his dark eyes, but you refused to give in, keeping your focus on his lips — lips that were so kissable. Warmth washed over you and there was nothing you wanted more than for the ground to swallow you whole. The weight of his burning eyes was too heavy for you to bear, so you tried to redirect the attention by doing the one thing you did best — talking.

“Are you still fighting?”

It seemed to do the trick as Mingi broke out of the captivating spell. In an exhausted tone, the one you’d hear between a couple constantly bickering and reaching their end, he breathed out your name.

“I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

You hastily applied the ointment and retracted your hand, but Mingi was faster. He grabbed your wrist, his thumb landing on the soulometer in the quick act and an electric crackle burst where your skin connected. A beat or two passed before he decided to speak up.

“I am fighting, just not as much… I kinda feel bad for my soulmate.” The corner of his mouth pulled up in a faint smirk and a chuckle followed at his poor attempt of easing the awkward air.

Your heart dropped into your stomach and you didn’t think it was possible for it to go any further from there, but hearing the rest of his sentence proved you wrong. Before the hollow feeling could reflect on your face, you forced the corners of your lips up in a fabricated smile. An identical smile to the one caught in a multiple of billboards all over Seoul. 

“I wish mine would do the same. They always seem to find themselves in some trouble.”

A thick gulp ventured down his throat and the shaking panic in his eyes morphed into a forced calm. “I’m sure if they knew you were this worried, they’d stop running headfirst into danger.”

Five years had passed since the soulometer was injected into your wrist, enough time for your soulmate to change their ways, to stop giving their other half constant fear every night. Yet, it wasn’t the distance or the lack of knowledge about each other’s lives that weighed on your heart. The true reason lay deeper — your soulmate simply didn’t care enough to stop or perhaps they lacked the means to break free from the dangerous path they’d chosen. It was never about being physically apart, but about the emotional distance — the helplessness of knowing that, despite everything, they continued to surround themselves with danger. You didn’t have the heart to confide in Mingi about it, to express the quiet ache you carried, because saying it aloud would mean admitting that the person you loved was still caught in a cycle they couldn’t escape, or didn’t want to. 

Truthfully, Mingi was also the last person you wanted to confide in about the matter.

“I guess so.”

The brief and accidental encounter with Mingi was supposed to stay a long lost media in your brain, cluttered together with other minor memories. That was what you told yourself as Mingi left your apartment, sweaty clothes in a trash bag and belly full of warm leftovers. The version of him you remembered from all those years ago still lived on in your imagination, the bitter note of how everything ended, a constant reminder as to why the encounter should just be that — short, consistent and insignificant. As the morning sun peeked from between the high buildings and the dark sky bleed out to a baby blue hue, you’d return to your everyday life of selling apartments while the dishwasher rinsed the memory of what occurred in the space of your four walls. 

The open PDF on the computer screen illuminated your face and the bazillion numbers would’ve been overwhelming if your mind wasn’t occupied by the thoughts of a certain man with feline-shaped eyes and annoyingly juicy lips. Whatever you did — drown yourself in work, spend time with Hongjoong and Seonghwa, try out the new restaurant in town — nothing was good enough to forget Song Mingi and that night. The situation just felt so right. A domestic reality you yearned for since you graduated high school and moved into your own flat. The wish to have someone by your side, to stuff your face in greasy food, stay up late at night and watch a plethora of rom-coms while cuddled up to them, and sleep until the sun was high in the sky. Mingi re-awakened those feelings you locked away in a chamber behind your heart.

A stack of papers fell on your desk with a thud and pulled you out of your wishful thinking. Jongho, your freakishly strong colleague, plopped down on a vacant plush sofa that was mainly there for clients to use while discussing potential deals.

“You excited to get drinks after work?” He asked, tugging on his perfectly made necktie.

You massaged your forehead, completely having forgotten about the collective outing you and your co-workers had every month. “Is that today?”

“Whoa, don’t tell me you, the most unforgettable person I know, forgot about our end-of-the-month-party!? Woo is gonna have a blast when I tell him!”

Jongho didn’t question your sudden loss of memory at first. The younger agent found the situation perfect for a round of teasing or perhaps even as future blackmail material. Concern flashed in his eyes when you made no attempt to defend your honor and instead buried the rest of your face in the palms of your hands.

“Hey… is everything… alright?”

“Yeah… No? I don’t know.” 

Something was really wrong because you were never tired. In fact, Jongho had never seen you without a smile or a spring in your step. You were always collected, whether it was your clothes, hair or mood. Fire alarms went off in his head and plans be damned if he didn’t at least try to figure out what was going on. It was easier said than done, though, because he didn’t know how to approach the topic and ended up sitting there with his mouth parted like a fish out of water. The overthinking was starting to trigger a headache, so he settled on the simplest, but hopefully, most effective question he could think of.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No.” Your reply was instantaneous. “I need to not think about it.”

A mischievous gummy smile spread across his face. “You just signed yourself up for regret, my dear friend.”

As you were about to ask to elaborate, he cupped his hands around his mouth and called out for the biggest menace in the company.

“Wooyoung-ya!”

Albeit curious, the pair didn’t try to fish out context clues or the story behind your emotional state. Wooyoung lived up to Jongho’s promise of making you regret joining them for drinks and it didn't stop there. They both continuously visited your office throughout the rest of the shift. Wooyoung would nonchalantly enter the room as if he didn’t have anything up his sleeve, step up to the window and inspect the wilted plant burning up from being in the sunlight for too long, when he was actually throwing you curious glances from the corner of his eye. Then, before quickly taking his leave, he’d subtly slide you a packet of gummies and run as if his life depended on it. One would believe you were engaging in some shady transaction that would definitely make you both lose your real estate license. 

Jongho was a different story. The youngest of the trio wasn’t good with his words, but the affection could be read through his actions. Although they were questionable. He, too, invaded your room in subtle fashion and touched everything that didn’t require human contact — your Sanrio figurines, picture frames, ornaments still up from Christmas. While it was annoying in the moment, their antics kept you from circling back to the one person who had made his grand return after five years of radio silence. Good thing you hadn’t planned on rekindling that flame ever again. But what was written in your calendar didn’t align with the universe. 

The happy hour had ended a while ago, and while Jongho and Wooyoung made sure to get you home first, your stomach rumbled the second you stepped foot into the apartment. What better meal to have in a tipsy state than some ramen? 

The trip to the corner shop was supposed to be quick and relaxing — a weak attempt to distract yourself from the headache blooming at the back of your head. Perhaps that was why you weren’t fully aware of your surroundings, stumbling into racks displaying different flavors of chips and accidentally knocking things out of place. You purposefully ignored the scorching gaze of the cashier and hastily moved to hide between the aisles. But what you didn’t expect was for another figure to round the opposite corner, causing you to bump headfirst into them. The ramen cups and energy drinks piled up in their basket tumbled to the floor, and you quickly crouched down to gather as many things as your arms would allow.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!”

The person didn’t say anything and you expected them to be very annoyed, but that wasn’t the case. The familiar face looking down at you with a tight-lipped smile caused you to freeze on the spot.

“Hey.” Mingi flared his fingers in what was supposed to resemble a wave, but it came off more awkward than intended.

A painful cramp fluttered at the back of your neck as the position wasn’t the most comfortable, your head craned uncomfortably as you looked up at him, the strain making it feel like it might snap at any moment. Yeah, the university wasn’t on your side.

“Here.” 

He knelt down to be at your level, though it would never really match, and urged you to place the belongings in the basket. It was impossible to tear your eyes from him, but Mingi didn’t notice your stare as he gathered the unscattered snacks and drinks in the carrier. Once was a coincidence, twice is a pattern, you thought and swallowed thickly.

“Alright, let’s stand up.” 

He rested his arm on his propped-up knee, while the other hand was held out for you to take. On a count of three, you both stood up simultaneously and your hand immediately returned to your side. 

“What are you doing here?”

The question came off more like an interrogation than a casual inquiry and you winced at your loose tongue. Mingi didn’t seem to care though.

“Nothing much, just wanted a late night snack.” As if you didn’t understand, he grabbed one of the ten ramen cups in his basket and gently shook it. The contents rattling together and overpowering the whirring sound of the freezers. “What about you?”

“Ah, same here…”

Mingi glanced down at your empty hands and smacked his lips together, “Cool.”

“Yeah…”

The young cashier who couldn’t be older than a high school graduate nearly suffocated from the sudden thickness in the convenience store. 

“Uhm, you gonna get anything?”

“What? Oh! Right! Let me just…” You trailed off and darted over to the refrigerators, grabbing the first thing that came into view. 

You snagged a bag of shrimp chips on your way back too. Banana milk and shrimp chips, what a combination! The reasons for your late-night adventure had started with the craving for ramen, but somewhere between the aisle mishap and the distraction of other snacks, the noodles had been completely forgotten. In the meantime, Mingi moved over to the cashier register and patiently waited for the kid to scan his items. 

You shuffled behind him and Mingi turned sideways, one of his brows cocked up. “Here, give me that.” 

Before you could protest or dodge his advances, the items in your hands were stolen from beneath your nose and placed on the counter. 

“Hey, no, I can pay for that.”

“Don’t worry.”

“Mingi–”

“I said don’t worry about it.” There was a certain finality to his tone that told you there was no point in further arguing. Mingi swiped his card as the cashier packed your things in two separate plastic bags. 

Standing outside the Seven-Eleven, you stuffed your hands into the pockets of your coat, the handles of the bag clinging to your wrist. “You didn’t have to do that. I can pay for myself.”

Mingi’s breath escaped in a cloud of vapor, lingering in the cold air before it dissolved into the sky. The corner of his mouth lifted into a one-sided grin. 

“I know.”

Never letting you pay for anything was just another addition to the long list of habits he still clung to since high school. Mingi really hadn’t changed, and you couldn’t deny the disappointment that settled in as you witnessed it.

“Good. Then I’m leaving now. Good night.” You turned on your heel and began walking in the direction of your home.

“W–Wait! Let me walk you home.”

You didn’t spare him a glance. “No need for that. This is one of the safest neighborhoods in Seoul, actually.”

Another ‘I know’ died on his lips. If anyone on this earth knew how out of danger you were, it would be Mingi.

“T–That’s good, but... it would help me sleep at night if I knew you got home safely.” 

After all this time, you still had a hard time telling him no. Sighing, you shrugged your shoulders in defeat, your resistance crumbling despite yourself. “Fine, you can walk me home.”

The walk was short, but lasted longer than ever and you were regretting your choices of not standing your ground against him. You would never admit it out loud, but his dimpled smile and two moles were your greatest weakness and there was no way you’d ever win against them. 

Mingi cleared his throat. “What have you been up to? You know, since high school.”

“Have you thought about what college to apply for?” Mingi asked and intertwined his fingers across his abdomen.

“I don’t know,” you told him truthfully. 

You lay on the grass, staring up at the night sky. The black canvas was dotted with a million, billion stars, leaving no space untouched. It had been Mingi’s idea to go stargazing, but considering neither of you had a driver’s license or the energy to trek up a mountain in the middle of the night, you figured the view wouldn’t be any different from your backyard.

He turned to you and followed the outline of your profile. God, you were beautiful. “Really? How come?”

“I don’t know. I feel like there are so many options, like how will I know what’s good for me.”

“Whatever you choose, sugar, you’ll figure it out. You always do.” Now it was your turn to face him and he flashed you a reassuring smile.“Sometimes, the best choice is the one that feels right in the moment.”

“...Being with you feels right.”

Nothing could compare to back then. Sure, you experienced fleeting moments of happiness, but they didn’t last longer than the life of a snowflake. Did Mingi ask that to see if you were still stuck in the past? If your time together was the peak of your happiness? He didn’t get to do that. To slither his way into your heart and admire everything you had been through without him by your side.

“Nothing special. I’m a real estate agent, so I’ve been busy selling houses and apartments.”

“Nothing special my ass. That’s amazing. But what is expected of the smartest girl in our high school, huh? I always knew you’d achieve great things.” 

Blood pooled beneath your cheeks, burning hotter than a fever of thirty-nine degrees, and you hated how, despite everything, he still turned you into a giddy high school girl who made eye contact with her crush. To be fair, it wasn’t too far from the truth and that was a scary realization on its own. All it took was a measly compliment and you turned to mush.

“What about you? What are you doing these days?”

A silence stretched between you far heavier than anything you had ever felt before. It was as if the question had torn through some fragile barrier, leaving him exposed. His eyes, once sharp and filled with glee, now seemed distant, as though searching for something lost. You could feel the weight of the pause, like a storm brewing in the space between you. What was he really doing these days? More importantly, what had he been doing all this time out of your reach?

“A little bit of everything. Anything I can get my hands on, really.”

“You didn’t study after high school?”

“You know school wasn’t my strongest suit. Stuffy classrooms and obnoxious teachers talking my ear off never got me anywhere, I mean, I barely passed high school. I was more comfortable with my hands in motion and figuring things out as I went. School was ever it for me. It always felt like I was waiting for something that never came.”

Mingi wasn’t wrong. Although he was a smart kid, staying awake studying until the dead of night and then working an underpaid nine-to-five job wasn’t for him. But you couldn’t shake away the bitterness of how he threw away the opportunity of a normal life with you for a bloody ring and a life of unpredictability. The punches he took in that world weren’t just physical — they hit somewhere deeper, somewhere you couldn’t reach. You had always wanted something more stable, something real to hold on to, but Mingi had chosen the chaos, the fight, over everything else. Perhaps that was why the universe decided not to tie your red string to his pinky, knowing it would hurt you more than his decision.

Coming to a stop outside your apartment, the memory of your first encounter after a few years still fresh in your mind. 

“Like boxing?”

Mingi’s eyes softened, but he didn’t speak, his mouth pressing into a thin line. The silence between you both was heavy, filled with things unsaid. It was the kind of silence that made your heart ache, knowing that there was so much left unresolved between you, yet you couldn’t find the words to fix it.

“Good night, Mingi,” you finally said, taking a shaky breath as you turned back to your door again. 

The finality in your tone hung in the air like a weight neither of you could lift. You didn’t look back as you reached for the door handle, but you knew Mingi was still there, standing in the same place, holding onto the same regrets.

Reaching your apartment, you flicked on the lights and quickly discarded your outerwear. You turned on the switches in every room and placed the bag of goods on the kitchen table. 

Disappointment fueled every movement. Grabbing a pot from the lower cupboard, you filled it with water, not caring as it splashed everywhere. When you set it down on the stove, you didn’t bother being careful, letting it thud onto the surface. You waited — oh-so-patiently — for the water to reach its boiling point and shoved a hand into the plastic bag. The expected rustling of plastic and cold drinks didn’t come. Instead, you felt the hard, smooth texture of something else. Knitting your brows together, you took hold of the square object, no bigger than a container of pudding.

In your palm was a plastic box of peeled and cut oranges.

Your head rested on your folded arms, eyes cast on the baby-blue sky taunting you from behind the windows. It was a beautiful day. What a shame you were stuck in a room with thirty other kids and no air conditioning. Your homeroom teacher was late — an uncanny occurrence, considering she always emphasized the importance of being on time and never failed to follow through. Until today.

The door to the classroom slid open with a thud, but the class had yet to quiet down, and by that single reaction, you knew it wasn’t Ms. Choi who had entered. The previously loud chatter of your friend group turned into hushed whispers and skittish snickers that reached your ears, but you didn’t bother to see what had gotten them so giggly. It was probably Jihoon, the new boy in class, who effortlessly managed to twirl every girl around his finger with just a look. He wasn’t your type — you preferred them tall, lanky, and clumsy. Jihoon was on the shorter side and had muscles that seemed unnatural for a sixteen-year-old. Plus, you weren’t into soccer boys. No, your style was more martial arts.

A hand, twice the size of yours, appeared out of nowhere and placed a clementine — your favorite fruit — on your desk, just inches from your face. Your eyes widened, staring at the bright fruit in disbelief. Groggily, you pushed away from the comfortable spot against the desk, only to quickly notice the figure looming over you.

Song Mingi.

“You skipped lunch,” he stated nonchalantly, offering an explanation for the sudden appearance of the fruit.

The muffled squeals of your friends, combined with Mingi’s unexpected act of chivalry, sent heat rushing to your cheeks, leaving you flustered and unsure of how to react. Gift-giving and small acts of service weren’t foreign between you and Mingi. He always seemed to know your cravings, bringing you peeled fruit and sugary snacks without you ever having to ask. In return, you tended to his cuts, massaged the tension from his neck and shoulders after heavy training, and always seemed to find ways to care for him without words. But that was done in private, never in public. Especially not in front of your friends who were having a field day with his new revelation.

“Ah,” Mingi breathed out, picking up the orange once more. 

Silently, he peeled off the thin skin, revealing the vibrant fruit hidden beneath. But he wasn’t done yet. With a casual movement, he stuffed the citrus-scented rind into the pocket of his school uniform before carefully removing the white pith wedged between the clementine’s segments. You didn’t like the white parts. His towering form caught the attention of the rest of the class and by now everyone intently watched the exchange. 

The clementine looked bare now. He held out the fruit again, waiting for you to extend your hand, careful not to let it touch the surface of your desk. A yellowish stain colored his nails, a discoloration that wouldn't fade with just one wash, and the acidic smell lingered, even stronger now. It was the main reason you didn’t like peeling them in the first place.

Mingi, having heard your confession a few weeks ago, made it his mission to always give you peeled oranges. It warmed your chest to know he was keeping that promise.

Apparently, the universe wasn’t satisfied with your first and second encounters because the third one happened just a little less than a week later. You were meeting up with Hongjoong and Seonghwa at a nearby cafe to catch up on the hecticness of your lives — also known as gossip about your workplaces and bonding over the latest episode of When Life Gives You Tangerines. The name of the drama threw you down a steep hill of memories, but you stood up, dusted off your knees and trekked back up. You didn’t want to associate him with the family of fruit anymore.

The clock had just passed five-thirty AM and you were supposed to be there ten minutes ago. It didn’t help that you hit every red light possible. At least the weather was nice. Not a single cloud occupied the baby-blue sky and the spring breeze scattered butterfly kisses along your body. It could’ve been worse. You thought of gloomy clouds and cold rain, and immediately shuddered. Yeah, it definitely could’ve been worse. 

The breath caught in your throat as a bus sped by, just a little over the limit. You exhaled in relief as it passed, but that relief was short-lived when you locked eyes with none other than Mingi on the other end of the sidewalk. It felt as if the universe were laughing in your face, throwing everything you didn’t want right at you. You’d take gloomy clouds and rainy weather over seeing Mingi again. The worst part was that it was a lie because even in the stormiest times, he managed to light up your surroundings, and the erratically beating heart in your chest served as your witness. 

A black hoodie swallowed his towering frame and a pair of chunky headphones covered his head. You couldn’t see him that well, but you assumed the shining reflection around his collar was from his stacked necklaces. The cuts along his face had healed nicely — in fact, they were completely gone — and you wondered if your last encounter had anything to do with it or if he had just gotten better at dodging flying fists.

You always seemed to end things on a bitter note, yet you ignored the sourness on your taste buds and raised your hand in a small wave. He returned it with a tight-lipped smile and a subtle tug of his headphones, letting them rest around his neck instead. Mingi bit down on his bottom lip, seemingly contemplating something. Coming to terms with his thoughts, he raised a finger, wordlessly telling you to wait and threw a quick glance at the red light as if it would hurry up from a single look. Although you had every right to ignore him, you just couldn’t. You had always been weak when it came to him, never really able to tell him no and it appeared some things just never changed. 

Mingi’s face lit up as the light turned to green. The man was so eager to cross the street — to get to you — that he didn’t bother checking both sides before walking out. Unlike the others, he missed the speeding vehicle heading zooming through multiple red lights and showing no signs of stopping. You felt it before you saw it. The spike in your left wrist, the rush of the arrow sky rocketing from zero to a hundred. Your legs moved on their own before you could form the first letter of his name. One moment you were rooted to the ground, eyes wide and mouth parted, and in the next you harshly collided with Mingi, hoping your spurt of strength was enough to knock him off balance and away from the dangerous metal chunk on wheels. 

The world didn’t stop spinning, but time slowed down as Mingi fell backward. His hand came up to cradle your head, while the other slithered around your waist. Your own arms were pressed against his chest from the push you gave him. The landing was harsh, but Mingi took most of it as his back slammed against the pavement and your face became buried in the crook of his neck and shoulder. The passersby approached you with questions of worry and concern, their faces etched with confusion and anxiety at the entire situation. Everyone was a bit shaken up at the tragedy that could’ve been. Your body refused to cooperate and the only thing you could do was tangle your fingers into the material of his hoodie, clinging to it for dear life, trying to distinguish reality from imagination. How cruel — he had just returned to your life, only to almost be taken out of it again, permanently.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, his fingers massaging your scalp as the other hand scrunched up the back of your shirt.

A stutter of words slipped out, none of which Mingi could make sense of. He sat up, trying to get a better look at you, but you refused to part from the comfort of his chest. You didn’t need to see it to know your soulometer had calmed down — you felt it in every fiber of your being. Your soulmate was safe, and you were too, now that you were in the arms of a living, breathing Mingi.

“Please, sweets, I need to know if you’re alright.”

Desperation dripped from his voice like sticky honey falling from a dipper and it struck sharply in your core, bringing you back to the present.

“Okay,” you mumbled against his clothes, just loud enough for it to reach his ears and Mingi exhaled in relief. He pressed a kiss on your hairline and your heart fluttered at the domestic gesture. 

A couple of strangers offered to call an ambulance, but Mingi waved them off, saying it wasn’t necessary and that no one was harmed — just a bit shaken up. He thanked them nonetheless and it did the trick as the crowd dissolved, the people returning to their everyday life, but with a story to slap down on the dinner table.

Mingi placed a palm beneath your left thigh as the other went around your waist to keep you sturdy as he got up from the pavement. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

It didn’t matter how much you wanted to tell him to let you down, that you could walk on your own and didn’t need a chaperone — the words wouldn’t roll off your paralyzed tongue. Feeling the stares of strangers burn into you, you hid your face in the crook of his neck and didn’t pull away until you were safely in your apartment. The entire journey home, you tried to wrap your head around the event: the near-death experience, your body taking over while your mind went slack, the sudden spike in your soulometer. You didn’t dare think about what would’ve happened if you hadn’t reached Mingi in time — if you were just a second too late, if you hadn’t noticed the car. A shiver ran down your spine, and you pressed your lips together to distract yourself from the tears threatening to soak Mingi’s hoodie.

You needed a distraction from the what-ifs, and you needed one pronto. Trying to focus on something other than Mingi being flattened by that stupid car, you racked your brain for something, anything else, when it suddenly hit you. In all the seven years you had your soulometer, it had never even grazed, let alone pushed hard against the other end of the scale. 

Back inside your apartment, you plopped down on the sofa and dropped your head into your hands. A throbbing ache pulsed through every part of your head, and the constant buzzing of your phone wasn’t helping. You had an inkling of who it could’ve been, and as you fished it out of your bag, the hundreds of messages and missed calls from both Seonghwa and Hongjoong confirmed your suspicion. You sent them a reassuring text, apologizing for bailing on them and blaming it on your headache. Mingi was leaning against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed over his chest, and his feet crossed at the ankles. His eyes never left your hunched form. He was waiting — for a call, a sign, something that would tell him when to reach your side and offer his help.

In another life, you’d be flustered — happy, ecstatic that he was there, worried for your well-being, wanting to make you feel better. But the nagging thought of the situation — too perfect to be a coincidence — wouldn’t let you go. What were the odds of your soulmate and Mingi both being exposed to danger at the same time? How was it that Mingi’s body was void of bruises just as your soulometer stopped acting up? 

Licking your lips, you inhaled shakily and found Mingi’s gaze. The pull to be wrapped in his arms was strong, almost unbearable and you wondered if he felt it too. The need to run your fingers through his hair, to rest your forehead at the junction of his neck and shoulder while he soothingly rubbed circles in your back. The feelings were more intense than back in high school, now full of want and need that you couldn’t satisfy by being in his mere presence. However, you were willing to put it aside in exchange for your question marks to disappear and there was only one person who could give it to you.

Your voice was raspy and weak, breaking mid-sentence as the words struggled to escape. With every ounce of vulnerability, you asked him, “Are we soulmates?”

Mingi didn’t move for a moment. He looked to the side, his jaw clenching as he uncrossed his arms and gripped the edge of the counter. It was inevitable, really. The question was bound to come up sooner or later, and he wasn’t a fool. Mingi didn’t live in a bubble separate from his worries. They were woven into his everyday life, especially since you’d crossed paths again after all these years, with you at the center of them. The anxiety hovered around you like planets orbiting the sun — always there, needing you to survive, but never able to get too close. Mingi never stopped thinking about you. Since your high school graduation, he’d found himself more often than not lying awake in the dead of night, thoughts circling back to you — wondering how you were, what you were doing, if you were happy. You had to be. Mingi only ever brought you pain and hurt, something he loathed himself for. The lies and secrets were the main reason behind it all, but the icing on the cake was his devotion to boxing, which had long surpassed his love for you. At least, in your eyes, because that was what he had allowed you to see — what he wanted you to think. It would make the end of your relationship easier, giving him a lie to hold onto instead of the truth.

But Mingi was tired of lying. He didn’t plan to re-enter your life to keep the same pattern in motion. He wanted to start a-new and whether he deserved it or not was up for debate, but he was going to try. For you. For himself. For your relationship.

“Yes.”

Then it all just stopped. The beat of your heart filled the silence of the world. The flicker of emotions was instant and irregular — shifting from relief and happiness to disbelief and anger. You couldn’t form a single thought, much less say anything. What could one say in such a moment? Realising your first and only love was more than that and had slipped away. The never ending fear and regret of losing the sole good thing in your life washing out to nothing, leaving you empty. It was good and bad. A war broke out in your head, scrambling to come to an understanding, but the tear between the two sides was so grave it was starting to hurt. The relief of finding your soulmate clashed with the idea that he was right beneath your nose this entire time, purposefully avoiding you for who knows how long.

A sting burned behind your eyes followed by a heavy pressure. Your throat closed up and yet you managed to get your question out.

“How… How long have you known?”

Mingi heaved in a breath. The weight of the situation pressed harshly against his chest as he realized the bear trap he set up years ago was beneath his foot.

“A little after the start of our third year in high school… When you were rushed to the hospital.”

You remembered it like it was yesterday. Someone thought it would be a funny prank to leave an opened peanut-chocolate bar in your locker, completely disregarding the gravity of the situation. That was almost a month after his eighteenth birthday — the day his soulometer was permanently injected into his body. Out of those three years, you dated for one and a half, and the last stretch of your relationship was apparently built on secrets and lies because he knew. 

He knew and didn’t tell you.

You rose from your seat, your expression shifting from disbelief to frustration. Your brows furrowed, and your lips were pressed tightly together in fury. Mingi had never seen you so angry — not even when some older kids were making fun of Hongjoong for his height or liking boys.

“Why? Why wouldn’t you tell me about it? Mingi, we broke up and you didn’t think to tell me we were, are soulmates?!”

Your voice jumped from a whisper to full-out yelling, loud enough for your neighbors above and below to indulge in the dramatics, and Mingi flinched at the sudden rise in volume. A fire spread from his core to the rest of his body, growing hotter and more intense with each passing second. Despite how familiar the sensation was, it wasn’t his. You were angry beyond salvaging and no amount of water could douse the flames. 

Mingi’s chest tightened as the answer to your long-awaited question tumbled out of him. “Because you deserved a better soulmate!” 

Like that, a weight lifted off his shoulders. There was a very long pause where you just stared at each other, both waiting for the other to speak.

“Excuse me?” It was meek, barely above a whisper as you spoke and a sharp, breaking sound echoed in Mingi’s heart, like porcelain shattering. “You don’t get to decide that.”

Mingi hesitated, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the right words. You seized the opportunity to step in front of him. Unshed tears lined your waterline, one blink away from spilling over and kissing your burning cheeks. Mingi wasn’t any better. His eyes were glossed over and throat was dry. His fingers turned an alarming shade of white from gripping the counter, the veins in his hands more defined than ever.

“Why?” 

“You weren’t happy with me…” Mingi’s voice cracked, tears welling in his eyes as he struggled to continue. “W–with me boxing… and I… I wasn’t ready to give up on that. I thought you d–deserved some happiness before you realized you were stuck with me f–forever.” His words came out choked, his chest heaving as the tears finally spilled over.

The salty tears extinguished the fire that had been brewing in you. What had felt like flames of hell now shrunk to nothing more than a spark, ready to fade. You reached out, your hands trembling slightly as you cupped his face, gently wiping away the tears that had fallen.

“You thought I wouldn’t choose you? Mingi, I was never asking you to give up on what you love. I just couldn’t stand seeing you put yourself in danger, not knowing if you’d come back to me… alive.” Your heart ached as the soulometer inside you throbbed painfully, a constant reminder of how deeply connected you two were. 

Mingi had grown up in a boxing family. His father was a boxer, and his grandfathers on both sides were boxers too. It was only natural for the only child of the Song family to step into his relatives’ shoes and fall in love with the gruesome sport. However, it wasn’t the officiated matches or light sparring during training that had you worrying for Mingi. A little after Mingi turned eighteen, he realized that his talent could not only bring him medals, but money. A great sum of money, actually. 

As the fortune started to come his way, you began to notice the change in him. He wasn’t just fighting for the thrill or the legacy anymore — it had become a business. The sport he had once loved, the sport that had connected him to his family, was now something more — something dangerous, something that had started to consume him. You watched as he took on bigger opponents, harsher training regimens and increasingly dangerous matches, all in pursuit of a prize that was slowly tearing away at the person you once knew. 

You didn’t mean to put him in a tight spot, to choose between his first serious girlfriend and the illegal business that kept him independent. You also didn’t expect him to choose the latter. The decision stung more than you anticipated, the weight of it sinking in as you realized what it said about his priorities. 

You were both young and foolish back then, believing the world was beneath your feet and that one wrong decision could crumble it all. Had you known you were bonded, tied together for all eternity, you would’ve approached him differently and you certainly never would’ve let him go.

“I didn’t know about the soulmate bond. I didn’t know you knew... and you still let me walk away. You were willing to let me go without telling me the truth? How could you think I’d leave you forever, knowing we were meant to be?”

“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry,” he said, his voice breaking. “I–I swear, I wanted to tell you. So many times. Every time I’d walk past your posters or hear about you from our mutual friends, I’d be one click away from calling you, but…”

The apology hung in the air like a weight, thick with guilt and regret. His voice trembled, each word choked back by the raw emotion clawing at him. The tears streamed down his face, unchecked. He turned his face slightly, the side of his cheek brushing against your palm, as if trying to hide from the pain, but your touch remained steady. You held him there, gently, as his sorrow poured out.

“Don’t hold back, Mingi. I’m not going anywhere, not now, not tomorrow, not ever… So please, talk to me.”

His chest hitched as he struggled to breathe, the weight of the words, the silence and the years of unsaid things crashing over him. Mingi knew he owed you this. An explanation, a reason for his sudden pull back all those years ago. He heaved in a breath and allowed the truth to spill.

“I just… I couldn’t,” he whispered. “Every time, I’d think about it and then–then I’d back out. I thought it was better this way. I thought maybe you’d be better off without knowing… that I wasn’t good enough, that I’d only mess things up. Jongho said you were ha–happy and I didn’t want to ruh–ruin that. ”

“You could never–”

“But I would!” He didn’t mean to shout, but the frustration and sadness, locked up for so long, didn’t hesitate to seize the first opening it saw. “I was still fighting… I never stopped. It only got worse after… after we broke up. The money was good, but the loneliness,” his voice wavered, “the loneliness was unbearable. The only time I ever felt anything was when I saw your face... or when I got beaten to hell.”

Your eyes darted around his face. Jumping from his eyes and lips to his nose and cheeks as if seeking a pressure point that would make all of his suffering evaporate into thin air. Mingi avoided your gaze and you massaged the apple of his cheek to catch his attention again. You never intended for the downfall of your relationship to put its claws in his back and leave a wound so grave it couldn’t heal on its own. In fact, you were so caught up in your own emotions that you didn’t think to take a moment and wonder how it would affect him. The guilt festered in your bones like a leech refusing to let go. 

“I never realized how much you were carrying… I thought I was the one who was struggling, but maybe we both were. I’m sorry, Mings.”

“No.” 

He shook his head in disagreement and your hand fell from his face. The loss of warmth was close to painful and Mingi, not wanting to be apart from you any more than necessary, grabbed your hand and guided it down to his chest, placing your palm above his beating heart — the organ that pulsed in rhythm to your own. Your fingers twitch to grab his shirt, to claw out his heart and keep it in the safety of your hands. To shield it from hurt and pain and agony. You never wanted him to feel such anguish again and you certainly didn’t want to be the reason behind it either. It tore you from within and the emotion wasn’t even yours to begin with. 

“It’s not your fault. It was never your fault.”

“Mingi–”

“Stop it. You know if I’d just listened to you, if I’d stopped getting involved in stupid shit, none of this would’ve happened. There’s no one to blame but me.” 

Tears still rolled down his cheeks and clung onto his lashes, though his eyes were sharp and firm as if daring you to challenge his words. If there was one thing you’d learned during the few years you dated Mingi, it was that once his mind was made up, nothing could change it. 

“We are both at fault, love.” 

The pinched expression on his face crumbled at the familiar call of endearment. His mouth parted slightly, and a constellation twinkled in his eyes — a sight you had missed incredibly. A twinge of hope flickered to life — hope that you could once be again, despite his careless acts of selflessness. His focus shifted between your eyes and with shaking hands he gently cradled your face, his touch not lighter than a ticklish flutter of a butterfly’s wings. Your own hands found purchase on his waist, fingers looping through the pouch of his hoodie as you instinctively leaned into the gentle pressure of his caress.

Mingi wetted his lips and brows scrunched together in a pleading demeanor. Something was plaguing his mind again and you could feel the train of thought reach out and graze your own, as if wanting you to get a glimpse. It didn’t hurt, but it wasn’t pleasant either. It felt full, crowded.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, Mings?”

“…You.” He took another breath, steadying himself, his voice barely above a whisper. “Can I… May I… I want to kiss you.”

Perhaps you should’ve said no. Perhaps you should’ve ignored him sitting on the steps of your apartment. Perhaps you shouldn’t have let him back into your life at all. But the thought of telling him no — robbing yourself of the feel of Mingi’s lips against yours — burned like hot acid in your stomach. So you did the one thing you were best at when it came to him, you gave in to your heart's desire.

“Then kiss me.”

Mingi didn’t need to hear you say it twice before he pulled your face up to his, lips smashing together as a flood of emotions erupted with the kiss — the kind of feeling only a romantic gesture like this could bring. You rose onto your toes, your hands gripping his wrists as if to anchor yourself in the moment. A low rumble vibrated from the back of his throat and you pushed harder against him. The kiss was intoxicating, yet liberating at the same time. You swiped your tongue along his bottom lip and he wasted no time parting them for you. The heat between you both deepened and each moment felt like it stretched on forever, the world around you fading into the background. His fingers grazing the side of your face, pulled you impossibly closer, as if there was no space left for anything but this shared intimacy. 

The pounding of your heart filled your ears, a frantic rhythm that matched the urgency of his touch. You were caught in the gravity of the moment, caught between the need for air and the undeniable pull to stay, to keep kissing him like nothing else mattered and nothing mattered. Just you and him. 

You felt one of his hands slither down your spine, a trail of firecrackers following the wake of his fingertips and sending shivers down your body. You couldn’t pull away — not yet. Not when everything inside you was screaming for more. Mingi pushed you closer to him, chests touching and hips meeting in a delicious press, that radiated between you both, causing every nerve in your body to hum with anticipation. 

It was the need for oxygen that eventually broke you apart before the heated situation could be taken to the bedroom, with you pushed against the soft sheets and your legs tangling together. Your chests rose and fell in synchrony, trying to steady the breath that had been stolen in the heat of the moment. A crackle of electricity snapped around the room, the atmosphere still charged with the energy of your kiss, but both of you knew you couldn’t rush past this — there was so much more to say, the fact that you were soulmates, for one. 

Mingi rested his forehead against yours, his breath was warm against your skin, quick and shallow, mirroring your own racing pulse. His eyes searched yours with a mix of intensity and vulnerability. He whispered your name, as if unsure how to bridge the distance between the desire in his chest and the emotions that were beginning to surface.

“We are soulmates,” you whispered before he could say anything else. It was more of a statement, a wake-up call for you than a fact. Your gaze dropped to the strings of his hoodie, the intensity of his stare made your knees feel weak.

Mingi didn’t reply. He rubbed gentle circles over your blouse on your lower back, a relaxing motion. You didn’t need to hear him say the two worded apology, you felt it in his soft touches.

“It was you… every time my meter went up… it was you fighting.” 

He nodded, a solemn smile gracing his swollen lips. “Yes.” 

“...But it hasn’t… gone up since–”

“Since you found me outside your apartment,” he finished for you. “I stopped shortly after that. I– uh, I realized that I wanted you. Or, well, I always knew, but that… that confirmed it. Mmm, I knew, though, that if I wanted us to be together, I’d have to change– stop! I’d have to stop doing the thing that made me lose you in the first place.”

“So… what does that mean for us?”

“It means… that if you want me to, I’ll peel your oranges for the rest of our lives.”

You wiped a stray tear from his cheek. “Even the white bits?”

The corner of his lips curled up in a grin, giving a glimpse of his crooked front teeth, and his eyes lit up like the night sky in the countryside.

“Especially the white bits.”

© HONGJOONGSPOETRY 2025. All rights reserved. Copying, editing, reposting or translating my work is not allowed.

[lyxchen]

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

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

[sleepnowmychild]

I hope you don't mind me asking, but I'd appreciate it if you could tell me about what it's like worshipping Lord Hypnos. I've had very severe chronic insomnia since I was in preschool, and I'm hoping that working with the god of sleep might help me with that. Plus I'm really good at dream work when I actually do manage to sleep, so I would appreciate his help on several fronts.

But anyway, could you please describe what Hypnos' personality is like? And what offerings he appreciates the most? I've done my research and I know that deities appear a little differently to everyone, but I'd appreciate some insider tips before I try contacting him. Sorry if this ask is annoying. Thank you so much, take care!

Calm is probably the best way to describe it. Interactions are usually calm, to the point and kind but stern. If he wants you to know something, you'll know it. No point in being vague if it'll keep you awake wondering all night you know? I've never had any negative interactions or anything harsh from him. Even if he's trying to shake some sense into you he's always nice about it. To the point and stern, but nice.

Sleep schedule has definitely improved since working with him, its one of the things he gets all his devotees to address pretty soon. As difficult as creating new routines can be, its definitely the best way to put more focus on sleep and he'll definitely get that message across.

I'm not able to do physical offerings very often but from all the stuff I have offered tea is a big hit. Either the teabags/leaves or the acutal drink itself. I've heard from others chocolate is a big hit too. Poppy seed things like biscuits or muffins have worked pretty good too for me, which definitely seems like an obvious choice given the whole poppy associations. I'm sure acutal poppy flowers would be great too, I've been meaning to try and grow some for him actually. I keep my sleep meds near the altar too as a "here you can have some but I need the rest" kind of offering. Little teddies have been a hit for altar decor. And amusingly I put a sleepy Littlest Pet Shop bunny on there because it made me think of him, and its lived in the altar ever since lol.

I've used mostly claming and sweet scents for candles and incense. Lavender, vanilla, cinnamon and chocolate are the ones I use the most. Obviously candles don't have to be scented if you have sensitivities to it, but if scent is something you use, sweet and calm is a good choice.

If you have a sleep mask, you can keep that on/by the altar too. To like 'charge it up' in a way. I started doing that out of the blue a while ago and he got the idea pretty much immediately lol.

I'll save the entire encyclopaedia length of yapping I could do, but that's my basics rundown on our favourite eeper. Hope it helps!

[ichigopuddingmuslima]

Addressing the elephant in the room since no one else wants to.

Child trafficking

Do I think Alexei partook in it? No, I do not. Would I absolve him of it completely? Probably not. But the main question here is whether he knew about it. I absolutely don't agree with this at all. So let's discuss...

Reason #1: Stupidity

I'm not talking about ignorance, that's a point for later. I'm also not being literal. Genuinely, I don't think he's as dumb as he tends to portray himself as. This man went undercover for 3 years completely undetected until he literally burned the entire place down.

"That wasn't his own actions, he was just listening to Melina"

Melina wasn't working middle management day-to-day and actively lying to people's faces, earning trust and info. Not saying Melina didn't help at all, of course she did. But Alexei had to be able to think on his feet. Improvise. Adapt. Blend in. So let's face it, if Alexei was completely helpless and obtuse, he wouldn't last a day at that office. He's not stupid.

But he's been labeled stupid by just about everyone who's met him. Including...Dreykov.

You know, the guy we see in the opening of Black Widow, actively committing the crime. The power hungry, egomaniac, who brainwashed his own daughter. The same guy who threw Alexei in prison because he stopped being useful and can't help further his agenda anymore and was actively becoming a liability, questioning him and his power, something he evidently did not take lightly.

Now you look me in the eyes and tell me why a man like Dreykov would ever entrust his precious Widow recruitment methods to a guy he clearly saw as inferior and dumb.

Reason #2: Melina

Not putting the blame on Melina AT ALL that's not what this section is about. I adore Melina and clearly, so does Alexei. She is obviously a victim of the Red Room just like every other Widow. I'm not one of those people who want to blame one or the other, if one is guilty, they both are. They're the adults in this situation, the only truly innocent is Natasha and Yelena.

That being said, Alexei and Melina was confirmed to develop real feelings for each other in Ohio. They still loved each other after 20 years apart. He has a tattoo of her face on his body and he knew where she was from inside prison. She definitely wrote those fan mails we see him get but he can't write back because Dreykov would make sure he had zero connection with people outside of prison but she still kept writing.

They're the first person each of them have to love them for them and I refuse to believe it's just over off screen when she wasn't even mentioned in Thunderbolts*.

Getting to the point, Alexei clearly trusts Melina and trusts she would tell him anything. She trusted him enough to admit she didn't want to go back, but they both knew it would be impossible. Dreykov had influence and he had resources, if they ran, when - not if, when - they're found, they're all dead on the spot.

Dreykov's hold on Melina specifically is strong. She's afraid...even if we don't see it outwardly because she's been cycled through the Red Room over 4 times, the number isn't specific but she mentioned the first 4 was before Natasha was even born. This is someone who never had a choice and who never think to believe she ever would.

But then Ohio happened. And Alexei. Someone who saw her brilliant mind not to exploit, but to admire. And she saw his gusto as passion instead of recklessness. She loves him and trusts him, but all that Red Room influence couldn't be erased in just 3 years. I believe she wanted to tell him, wanted to give him a reason to stay, but she also knew it wouldn't make a difference because they're all dead the moment they betray Dreykov.

Reason #3: Ignorance

This is the section where I don't give Alexei an easy out.

He's clearly aware of Widows. Probably worked with them a few times before Ohio too. Clearly aware that there's a lot of training and hardships to get them to the point he sees them. And arguing the point that he's not aware of the kidnapping and trafficking, he obviously would have to assume the girls are orphans. At some point, he had to have known that training isn't catered by age or gender.

He knows both Melina and Natasha are afraid to go back.

Let's be real here, Alexei isn't the type to ask and keep pushing for answers until he gets one. He's the type to notice, mention it off handedly, and move on when he's brushed off. It's a choice of ignorance over knowing and yes, this is absolutely something we can hate him for.

He doesn't know and he doesn't want to know. Not really anyway. He'd like have Melina open up and share her story, but hearing the truth would absolutely send him into denial. Yelena bluntly explaining the forced hysterectomy they had to endure is evidence enough that, although he's not evil, he's still a just man.

A man who would rather live in his denial and obliviousness than face the truth of being a part of an organization that takes advantage of little girls. Maybe he would accept it eventually, but it would take time, time they did not have until it was too late.

Reason #4: Natasha and Yelena

Giving up Natasha and Yelena. This is and forever will be his deepest shame.

But not at the time. Not when he actually gave them up because he believes it's for the best. The last he saw them, they were being loaded onto a plane. Not a boat, not a container they eventually found themselves in. A plane.

Unconscious, but not harmed.

This is the instance I believe would have turned Alexei against Dreykov sooner. If he was aware what the girls went through to get back to Russia, he wouldn't have let them go. He doesn't think himself as capable or deserving of them, but he would have absolutely killed Dreykov if he knew.

CONCLUSION

No, I don't believe Alexei is aware of Dreykov's heinous activities but he also doesn't attempt to know. But under the right circumstances he would have stood up for them and fought. Only that never happened and no one is more aware of his shortcomings than himself.

I'm sorry for this long ramble, I'm so tired of people calling him a child trafficker when his biggest crime is his ignorance. And his ego. But he's also changed and the only people allowed to hate him in this situation is Natasha, Yelena and Melina. But they don't. So everyone can shut up already about this.

Thank you for indulging me, have a cupcake :) 🧁

Hiii thank you for this!

Alexei is NOT a child trafficker. I truly believe he would have died trying to stop it. We see that in the Black Widow movie. He's a good man that was dealt a shitty hand. He's done some bad things. Really bad things but human trafficking is not one of them. I don't have much to add as you've done a great job spelling things out. I agree with you.

[ilid]

I made the mistake of posting this on Reddit. Would not recommend, i ended up looking like this:

But it made me realize something: Kris and Berdly's unclear relationship might be a 4D chess move from Tricky Tony as a way of hammering Kris' identity to the player. But why would that be the case? The game already makes it pretty clear that Kris is their own person and is different from the player. Anyone that has played the game with their eyes open should've gotten this by now, right? Yes, and despite knowing this, we still project our own feelings onto Kris (myself included, i'm not innocent). Think about it, why would Toby make such a vague scene as the one with Ralsei? Why is it left so up to interpretation compared to everything else? Except... the scene is not really vague, it's only vague because it's Berdly. What if we change the names up a bit for the sake of argument: What if it was uhmm.... (let's pick someone random) Jockington!

❤️ Jockington * Jockington? (Ralsei would be just as confused, he doesn't know shit about Jockington or how absolutely cool he is) * Umm, you don't have to repeat yourself so loudly, Kris. * ... * I - you don't have to repeat yourself, Kris. * If, it's what you really want, Kris! * I'm sure Susie would be happy to see you, um, spread your wings sports? If we don't asume anything about Kris' opinion on Jockington, this reads more like Kris is making their choice clear while Ralsei is the confused one. Especially those last two lines, why would Ralsei say that if it wasn't out of reluctant understanding? It almost sounds like he's saying "You have shitty taste but i'm happy for you anyways".

Then, why is this scene vague anyways if the text is written like a sitcom gag?

Easy answer: Berdly is fucking annoying. Toby wants us to hate Berdly, he's egotistic and constantly tries to piss Kris (and by extension the player) off. His arc in Chapter 2 is not even dignifiying considering his "tragic backstory" barely justifies any of his flaws, he still acts like a douche up until his very last line of dialogue, and in Chapter 4 he REGRESSES back to being almost as bad as he was before. It's SOOOO easy to hate him, even the people who like him often say things like: "He's funny as a character but if he was my friend in real life i would hate him". So when the average Player comes across a scene like this one, they think "This can't be, Kris must hate Berdly just as much as i do! Surely there's an explanation for this!" and so everyone interpreted this scene as "Kris screaming while confused and angry!" even though nothing in the text confirms this at all. But we have proof that Kris doesn't hate Berdly at all, they play video games together on a regular basis: - If you check on him in his second battle it says "He usually only gets this mad when you play games together." - He mentions Kris wavedashing in Super Smashing Fighters - They played Minecrap together in Noelle's blogpost from the Spamton Sweepstakes. - They both compete in speedrunning leaderboards. Not only that but it's implied that Berdly berating Kris, is actually a mutual thing: - "He usually only gets this mad when you play games together." - Berdly seems used to being taunted by Kris. - Kris prank calls Berdly in Noelle's blogpost but helps him reinstall Minecrap after he accidentally uninstalled it. If you take all this into consideration it recontextualizes Kris and Berdly's entire dynamic, THEY'RE QUIPING! The thing is, this is all FLAVOR TEXT, and very easy to miss for the average player! So when Berdly taunts Kris, we only see Berdly's side, and it comes across as insults! We don't have the context to understand it until later! Even dialogue options like: - Telling Berdly to stand outside Rudy's hospital window so he can throw something at him. - "Running away as fast as possible" instead of talking to him in the Librarby. - Singing the wrong number song. What initially comes across as "Kris hates Berdly" options, is recontextualized as just their usual quips! This recontextualization hammers in the fact that WE DON'T KNOW KRIS, we don't know Berdly in the same way they do, and as a result of that, we don't experience things in the same way they do. Just like how Kris' gender identity is commentary on how people project gendered stereotypes onto nonbinary people, Kris and Berdly's relationship is commentary on how people project their opinions onto characters even when we don't know the full picture. Even if i'm wrong (I'm not) and Kris actually does hate Berdly or there's a secret third option, my point would still stand! (I would just be at the butt of the joke).

I'm tired of all the Kerdly deniers coping. I've seen so many people interpret this scene as Kris repeating Berdly's name out of confusion, disbelief or even anger, even though there's nothing in the text implying this.

Usually the other character's make it pretty clear that Kris sounds confused when we make them say something they don't want to say. There's a very specific choice of words here, "repeating yourself loudly" is very different from just "screaming", this specific wording implies Ralsei is the confused one and Kris is repeating themselves as clarification. But, i guess you could say Ralsei is not the most gifted when it comes to understanding social cues, you could kinda make a case for Ralsei either not understanding Kris' tone or maybe even purposefully avoiding mentioning it as to not "upset the player" or something. So how about hearing it from the bird himself? When Berdly asks Kris to join Queen's team, Berdly is perfectly capable of reading Kris' confusion.

But, if you choose to go with Berdly to the festival...

Berdly is INCREDIBLY FLUSTERED, and there's absolutely ZERO mention of any confusion from Kris.

Kerdly is inevitable.

[doctormohansamira]

Okay, so names. @butchjackabbot, @mateo-diaz, and @mohanism all told me it wouldn't be condescending to ramble about this, so I'm gonna do it.

I talked a while ago about the VillageName FathersName GivenName format of Tamil names. And I talked about how often, people take their father's name as their last name upon emigration, meaning that it's possible that Samira's father's given name was Mohan. The convention really isn't to actually spell out the toponymic/patronymic parts of the name, it's to use the initials. So, following this convention, you could have a character named something like A. B. Srinivasan. And his son, A. S(rinivasan). Mohan. And his daughter, A. M(ohan). Samira.

(I was once in the middle of a background investigation for work, and they asked me to spell my grandfather's name. I nearly blue screened, because that village name and his father's name are really long, and I was not all that sure how to spell them. I was really not expecting that question.)

Functionally, this convention usually means that Tamilian people born in the US, or those that at least came here with their parents as a child, have their grandfather's name, not their father's – eg: I have my non-Tamilian father's last name, not a Tamilian one, but my uncle and cousin both use my grandfather's given name as their last name, and that's the case for most Tamilian people that I know. Following the GivenName FamilyName convention (more common as it is in the US, as well as most parts of India) is just more convenient than trying to maintain Tamil naming conventions. For example, there are a lot of systems that impose a floor on the length of first names – as some people only use a patronym initial or a toponym initial, that means they only have one character for the first name, which is too short. Often more convenient to just spell it out as a last name, and put the given name by which they want to be addressed in the first name field.

So what would it mean for Samira to not have her grandfather's name, but instead have her father's? Well, I think there are really two potential justifications for this. The first and probably most likely circumstance in which this would occur is if she were actually born in India. This could add new insight into her experiences with being a first generation immigrant being confronted with medical neglect.

The other one has to do with how the use of titles/honorifics with Tamil names is not quite what someone raised in a Western context might expect. In formal address, you would address a doctor as "Dr. [given name]", not "Dr. [patronym]". So if Samira's name was in the Tamil style (M(ohan). Samira), she would, in Tamil Nadu, be addressed as Dr. Samira, not Dr. Mohan. According to this article by a Tamilian doctor, who opted for the most common GivenName HusbandsName after emigrating (in the Tamilian convention, that swaps out for the father's name upon marriage, like a maiden name vs a husband's name in the Western context), she was very bothered when people started addressing her as "Dr. [husband's name]" instead of "Dr. [her name]", because that's how you address him, not her. He used his own name as his last name, and his father's name as his first name, the opposite of what people usually do, and so people addressed him the same way they would in Tamil Nadu – "Dr [given name]". Apparently, this is a common choice for doctors.

So what does all this I'm rambling about imply? Well...it could suggest that if Samira's father emigrated to the US before her birth, and opted for the name format FathersName GivenName instead of GivenName FathersName, he might have been a doctor himself that wanted to be addressed in the manner to which he was accustomed. This has implications for Samira's social consciousness and fear of treatment disparities, as it would imply her childhood trauma involved being confronted with how medical discrimination can affect anyone, and even being a doctor couldn't ensure her father got the care he needed (it also might have further implications about immigration as a doctor, rules about practising medicine in the US and redoing residency requirements, and a lot of other things, but I'm not going to get into that).

Caveat: this format of name convention is not always true, and there is no hard and fast rule as to how names translate into a Western context. It's actually something of a recent shift that occurred as a result of early/mid twentieth century social reforms to eliminate caste. Surnames in much of India are caste indicators, and sometimes, Tamilians use a caste name as a surname instead of a personal name of their father/grandfather/whoever. For example, a common surname of Tamilians outside of Tamil Nadu is Iyer. This is not a patronym. But this is a whole other story that could probably be its own post, but as someone that was born in the US, I am super not qualified to make that post.

ANYWAY. Here's my rambling about Tamilian names. Make of it what you will. Sorry, I'm bad at being concise.

[whileinthe80s]

THE OLD GUARD 2 ❤️‍🩹

First thoughts

I DON'T THINK I'LL EVER RECOVER FROM THAT ENDING IT FELT LIKE MY HEART STOPPED OR SOMETHING. That aside.I can say it was an overall enjoyable watch but that's not enough yall. Had to turn a blind eye on some major unsatisfying plot points. Im glad that everyone had a decent amount of time on screen. Not a lot of complaints there.

Booker dying was fucking horrible and Andy had to watch!!? that shit was heartwrenching, but it was totally expected from booker. I knew he was gonna pull some shit like that the moment he got that immortal lore from Tuah. It's sad to see booker go but he TRULY AND FINALLY made his choice. His reality to him was a hellscape so what he did feels fitting. Tuah is great he's only really a segway for the immortal history plot line so that's about it.

JOE AND NICKY MY SWEET SWEET JOE AND NICKY.. I was honestly just extremely happy to see them again. Love that they were being goofy. Love that Nickys immediate instinct when Joe said he wanted to be alone was to follow him because he knew when he was hiding something. I think that's a nice little acknowledgement of they're centuries together because I believe if Joe was saying he wanted sometime alone to just be by himself nicky would know that too. (Nicky would probably also know that Joe would never even want such a thing as to "be alone" sooo). The conversation they had about them possibly ending was cool. Wish it was a bit longer though.( or its probably just me never having enough joexnicky). Them driving was HOT. Had to say it like damn.

ANDROMAQUYNH IS HEREE!!...I enjoyed their developments. Totally would have loved to see how Quynh navigated her rage if she hadn't immediately connected with Discord. But Discord found her so i guess that was never meant to happen. (Andy getting her immortality back is great and all now who's gonna give it to Quynh🫠. The whole transferring immortality thing is crazy af tbh.)

Discord feels a bit unfinished. Like how did she lose her immortality. The whole shift in the story of immortality itself is quiet unsteady tbh. Like do you only ever lose your immortality if you get wounded by the last immortal? If that's the case, Lykon???. Or is their initial concept of death coming unexpectedly to all living things still on the table and the thing with the last immortal just speeds up the process.

Nile is still cool af. Love to see her taking charge. Her finding a Weapon was cool!!. But again there really wasn't much room in the movie for any deep personal development moments. Something was always going on so we missed out on that from Nile aswell.

There's a lot left unanswered and the movie just ended at THE most worrying point. Really for a second thought i could see the fam in a happy ending (minus booker💔). They took that from us.

I'm just suppppper happy they're back. And I enjoyed it. I enjoyed the movie. Sure it has some rough edges and were allowed to be upset about these characters that we love but honestly I'm good. Our worst case scenario has been averted. It sucks that we've waited 5 years and now we have to wait again for god knows how long. ( maybe we won't even have to wait if neflix chooses to not renew it for a third🤡 but honestly who the fuck leaves a franchise like in a fully unfinished state. they MUST renew it right right right????!??!? can't even call it a cliffhanger its simply an unfinished story so they must.)