#[recommendations: ... At least somebody is having fun.]

[teamrocketarcher]

dont be racist i am a DURALUDON

why is bro buildingcoded

[megapteraurelia]

EPITHIMIA. — talisman #2.

☾ SUMMARY; — having been sent up to tokyo as an exchange student to spy on the first-years, your objective had been crystal clear: don't meddle. don't change anything. just observe. you didn't expect fushiguro megumi to foil your plans that quickly — but it's not like you could help yourself, not when he refused to be someone you could respect. so, what else to do but meddle?

☾ WARNINGS; — fem!reader; enemies to lovers; forced proximity; attempted character study?? (badly done!!); angst; gojo being annoying; ppl being hypocritical!; kind of angsty yuji too; TW: mention of blood, death;

☾ WORD COUNT; — 20,458.

☾ AUTHOR'S NOTE; — i lied. there's no romance here because i'm stupid and i couldn't stop writing other scenes. there will be a part three (and if all goes well that SHOULD actually be the last part). also, frick action scenes! also had to sacrifice some of the aesthetics because i can only add 30 images oops

— back to masterlist.

15th of April; 07:22. — kugisaki nobara.

Fushiguro syndrome. — as coined by Kugisaki Nobara: part-time sorcerer, quarter-time model, quarter-time self-proclaimed doctor.

Definition. A rare but deeply annoying affliction characterised by excessive brooding, emotional constipation, and the compulsive need to shoulder the entire weight of the world whilst pretending it's fine. Symptomps. — saying 'I'm fine' while visibly not fine. — intense staring instead of talking. — going silent mid-conversation because feelings are hard. — randomly disappearing to punch curses alone without backup. — at least one major emotional crisis repressed into a singular eyebrow twitch.

They weren't fighting.

And honestly, that was weirder than when they were.

Nobara noticed it the second they all met up in the dining hall for breakfast: the sun cast high, the light refracting through the glasses of water on the tables, leaving behind a sparkling surface. Megumi's arms were crossed nonstop, his shoulders struggling to hold the tension, sporting the worst eye bags she had seen in ages (Should she recommend him some good eye cream?)

He fixed the ground with a glare, eyes narrowed like he was trying to exorcise his constipated feelings, before sitting down at one of the tables off to the side. Nobara thought that he looked like a statue with too much gel product in his spiky hair, the way he didn't even eat his food, just stared at it.

On the other hand, there was you, who kept fiddling with your uniform as if it wasn't sitting right on your body. It couldn't be that, though, because the tailors of Tokyo Jujutsu High were very high-calibre. She would know, her uniform sat perfectly, and she was quite finicky in that matter. So, it had to be something else.

Nobara couldn't read you, though. You kept to yourself and made no move to really integrate yourself to their friend circle and sure, as an exchange student, this entire stay here was supposed to be temporary, so to some extent, she did understand that maybe, it was better not to get attached. But then, there also was no telling how long you were staying, so wouldn't it be better to make friends?

But you didn't and so Nobara didn't, either.

It wasn't like she really disliked you, but she wasn't going to waste effort on somebody who didn't know to appreciate it. She was fine to ignore you most of the time, which wasn't hard, considering that you only let some comments slip sometimes, but then you had to go and be a bitch to Megumi.

It wasn't like she really cared about Megumi; if anything, he was annoying with the way he was zapping all the fun, but she couldn't stand by and watch him be hurt like that. In the end, he was her teammate and…..her…..friend……so she couldn't not feel a certain way about it.

In any way, there was no greeting, no arguing, not even a single snide comment about the other's expression, punctuality or whatever it was they used to bicker about constantly. No sarcastic jabs, grumbled responses that made her roll her eyes so hard, it gave her a headache.

Not a single thing.

Just silence and a whole mountain range of tension between them — and it wasn't even the fun type of tension. Ugh, this was so boring.

Nobara leaned back on the bench, her food untouched as well as she pretended to yawn, but mostly, she just wanted to gauge how bad it was between you two. She had seen you going at it before — loud, sarcastic, the kind of arguments that made Yuji glance between you two like some kind of referee in a sports match, so the weird silence — the chattering of Yuji's with the rest of the students aside — was honestly disgusting.

Yuji's voice, cheerful and loud as always, broke through her thoughts. Really, this kid had no tact or decorum. "Sooo, what's up with these two? It's like there's a black hole of energy today."

"Salmon," Inumaki said and stabbed a piece of fish (Fish? As breakfast?) to bring to his scribbled mouth. Nobara eyed the markings on his cheeks and Inumaki was quick to zip up his jacket and hide them behind his collar like he could hide from the world. Nobara didn't really mean to make Inumaki feel self-conscious but wow, these marking did not help out.

Yuji, on the other hand, kept eating the fish and the rice like he was starving, though knowing him, he probably was. Seven hours without food? A surprise he was still alive. With stuffed cheeks, he spat a few grains of rice onto her plate. She pushed it away. Gross little chimp.

"Yeah, it's like, they're magnets in reverse, you know? Like…repulsing? Was that the word?"

"Repelling," Maki's eye roll was so incredible in conveying her exasperation, Nobara was in love. "It's like watching two stubborn blocks of wood trying to figure out who is more stubborn."

Nobara had to try out the eye roll, too. "More like, who is a bigger pain in the ass."

Then she leaned over her food, ignoring Yuji's star struck chipmunk face when she pushed him back by the shoulder to shout over to you, "Oi, did Megumi infect you with Fushiguro Syndrome, too?"

Your voice was cheerful when you replied, "I think I'm just peachy, Kugisaki, thanks for asking!" but Nobara could spot fake-happiness from a mile away — the way your knuckles whitened holding your chopsticks, the annoyed twitch in your eyebrows, the distracted flitting of your eyes over the fish. Yeah, definitely Fushiguro Syndrome. You were sporting the most theatrical fake happiness anybody could ever ask for. Not that she'd know who would want it, but in case it was an attribute searched by anyone, at least she would know where and who to direct them to.

"She absolutely isn't."

"Yeah, no way in hell."

"Salmon, salmon."

Yuji swallowed the food without even chewing properly, a few rice grains still sticking to the side of his mouth. He tried getting them with his tongue when Inumaki pointed towards them, but gave up when the blonde sorcerer kept shaking his head. Nobara probably could tell him exactly where it was, but to his dismay and to her enjoyment, she did delight in watching Yuji make a fool of himself.

"It's weird, though," he said in between licks (no! Not this way — the rice grain was under his lower lip on the right side!) and then stuffed his cheeks with more food, "I mean, they've always been kind of odd with each other, but now it's different. It's like…they're those crabs that get stuck in the same hole and just…pinch each other until they both get annoyed enough to walk away, but they can't leave because they're stuck, and it's hilarious."

"What in the hell," Nobara paused. "are you talking about, Itadori."

Inumaki Toge nodded. "Bonito flakes."

"You seriously agree with him, Inumaki?" Maki quirked up her eyebrow, one of her chopsticks waving in the direction of Yuji and Inumaki as if to make sense of their non-sense, to bring to life the magic of understanding neanderthal-speak.

Megumi stood up with the slight screech of his chair skidding on the floor, his hands shoved deeply into his pockets as he walked out the dining hall without sparing a glance towards anybody. There was a distinct scoff coming from your direction, your chopsticks scratching hard against the surface of your plate, before you too pushed your plate away and got up to leave.

Nobara wondered if you had only been here for Megumi's sake, whether you had meant to leave at the same time, to give the impression that your presence at breakfast was just to make Megumi uncomfortable — maybe a reminder of whatever transpired between you both. But honestly, Nobara couldn't care less. Worrying about other people could mean that she'd stress over them enough to cause her hair ends to split or, worse, get grey hair.

God, just kiss or kill each other already, she thought with an exaggerated eye roll, but in the end it wasn't her business. Not really.

…but she definitely was going to text Yuji about it later.

16th of April; 13:26. — gojo satoru.

Gojo Satoru was many things.

Handsome (undefeated). The strongest (naturally). Adept at approximately all the things he put his hands on. But nosy? Not really. But once he was curious, there was no stopping him, and curiosity for Gojo Satoru was a dangerous thing.

Sipping from a can of peach soda, especially sweet, he sat lounging on the stairs. Below him, on the courtyard lawn, stood his little assortments of students, amongst which were his enigmatic black-haired student and his new Kyoto's little sharp-tongued mole. Well, exchange student, if he were to stick totechnicality, but then again, that word didn't do a lot of justice to the actual reason you were sent here.

Both of his students were standing a little too far apart; there was no speaking and no fighting like all the other times that he had the pleasure of witnessing. But that was the thing. There had been a fight.

If he could be generous to call it that — which he always was, mind you — the last mission ended with a little…disagreement. He hadn't been there, but the report Ijiichi had given him was quite clear. Something had happened that broke whatever little tolerance you both had for each other. Of course, he could imagine what it was, because Ijichi had been very detailed in the way both of his kids derailed into a shouting match over blame.

Gojo sipped his drink.

Interesting.

Megumi wasn't the type to carry grudges, usually. He carried a lot of responsibility, sure. A liberal amount of regret tossed in there, too, but what sorcerer didn't?

But something as petty as resentment? Not usually his deal. The nasty glare he had fixed on the exchange student was speaking volumes, though.

And you?

He had noticed it before; the way you made things personal, the way you didn't let up. Gojo thought that it wasn't the worst thing to happen to Megumi, especially if you could get him out of his mind once in a while. So he never saw a need to intervene, beside the fact that he didn't think Megumi would be unable to handle what you threw at him.

He could already imagine the glare sent his way if he meddled in Megumi's business beyond his own relationship with him as a teacher. Though, not that that really kept him from anything.

But personal tension, especially if it was persistent, had a way of bleeding into teamwork — or as 'team' as that work between you seemed to be, which did make it Gojo's problem, after all.

One eye peeking from underneath the blindfold, he noted the way Megumi's jaw tightened when you turned away without acknowledging him; the way your cursed energy flared aggressively when Megumi muttered something under his breath. There was a tight rope between apathy and something glimmering beneath it, heated, unspoken and definitely unresolved, tied between both your feet; ready to get you tripping if you moved too far away from each other.

He could be doing the responsible teacher thing: sit them down. Encourage open communication, blah blah — no.

That wasn't his style, and way too boring. What kind of teacher would he be if he didn't subtly abuse his incredible power for lighthearted surveillance?

Gojo Satoru tilted his head and his gaze fell on Yuji and Nobara, a slight tight-lipped smile widening, "Let's see what my adorable disasters are up to."

20th of April; 10:08. — gojo satoru.

"Already done? My, what hardworking bee you are, Megumi!"

"There any more, Gojo-sensei?"

"There's always an abundance of low grade jobs, but you sure you're not gonna turn into a zombie on me? Ya giving your brain enough time to catch a break?"

"I'm fine. I'll handle it," then, his voice a bit quieter: "I won't make any more mistakes."

Gojo tilted his head, his eyebrows drawn high, "I'll have Ijichi give you the details on the way. Just know that you'll lose your handsomeness if you turn into one of those undeads; flaky skin and all, you know? Now off you pop."

Though maybe he'll finally stop resembling his father then, Gojo thought, his finger turning the cuff of his uniform as he watched his student leave the room, a slight limp as he stepped on his right ankle.

22nd of April; 23:48. — zen'in maki, just called maki.

Zen'in Maki, just called Maki, hated reminders of her parentage.

For all the obsession with strength and cursed techniques, Maki found that the name of her clan in blood was less a title and more of a curse itself; a chain clinched around her throat since her birth, growing with her as she transcended childhood and grew into the young woman she was today. It was not rare for somebody to utter the name in her vicinity — not by virtue of upsetting her, but because even though she thought it was undeserved, there was no denying that the Zen'ins were one of the three great sorcerer families.

Even though it had been some time since she left the clan compound, she still felt the weight of it — the expectations she was meant to fail, the sneers she was meant to endure, the silence that was meant to shame her into obedience.

The traditional and backwards way her clan in blood operated made hers boil, and even though she would like nothing more than to circumvent any mention of this bitter reminder of her apparent inadequacy, she steeled herself each time the name passed somebody's lips. Because to flinch is to give in, to react is to admit defeat and to allow them to control her beyond their property by mere allusion. And Maki, with her stubborn heartbeat and her body honed into a weapon, refused to bow.

Her eyes, as sharp as ever, flitted over Megumi's black hair, though barely illuminated in the darkness and stillness of the night. Sometimes she forgot that he shared the same blood, but it wasn't the clan's much-heralded inherited Ten Shadows Technique that reminded her. It wasn't the black hair either that they shared. It was this.

The look in his eyes as he gripped his blade and performed katas with his sword. The cleanliness of it, the efficiency. It was the expression on his face that had her narrow her eyes, that had her muscles tensing as if to ward off any attacks — the same calculating silence masked as focus, the same quiet detachment.

She used to see that look in the training halls of the Zen'in estate: when her father would bark corrections with a tone that promised bruises and punishment; in Naoya's face when he used to kick the animals that lost their way onto their property, on the faces of several clans men. A mask that said feelings get you killed.

She watched him pivot, bring the blade up with a sharp, precise movement that made no sound but cut through the air like glass; the harsh exhale like there was a mountain of air buried deep in the cavity of his lungs needing to be set free. It was the feeling that this reminder of the mask brought out within her, the desperation to rip off that same look on her own face, the hollowed out thump in her chest that had her approach Megumi.

"You trying to break some record or are you just trying to kill yourself out here?"

Maki didn't expect a response and true to that, there was none following. She knew it all too well — this honed focus, the strangulation of an-ever growing vignette.

"Seriously, what the hell is going on with you?" Maki stopped a few metres short from where he was denying his body any rest, "It's well past curfew and you're bleeding all over the place. Training's not going to do you much good if you can't even hold your damn weapon."

Along the razor sharp sound of the blade slitting the air into two, Megumi's voice sounded out, painted with heavy breaths: "What about you then? What did you come out here for, huh?"

Silence. A slight stiffening of limbs.

"Don't pretend we don't know," Megumi halted in his movements, and his eyes — a wild, storming ocean — fixed her with a look, "You come out every night like you're being chased. Like you'll fall behind if you stop. So what is it — are you here to check on me or were you planning to do the same thing?"

Maki stayed quiet longer than she meant to.

There was a slight pressure behind her ribs, in the cavity that was her chest. Something curling up in on itself. A part of her wanted to scoff and tell him he was projecting, but the look in his eyes stopped her. The restless edge. The way he trained past exhaustion, the circles underneath his eyes, a promise that collapsing meant personal failure. The way he avoided eye contact when people asked if he was sleeping.

She knew what it meant. She knew where the road lead, because she was still walking it.

He wasn't wrong. The truth was that she hadn't come out here to check on him, that it wasn't on her mind until she saw the way he had danced over the training grounds. That she came because her body was buzzing from the inside with energy to waste, constantly caught between fight and flight, even when there was no one left to fight.

Her knuckles were still sore from last night. From the night before that. From the week before that.

Never leave me behind.

Maki's exhale was quiet. There was a promise and she broke it. She had left first.

Every time she trained until she couldn't feel her legs, every time her fingers bled grasping the hilt of her blade, it was with the breath of her sister's whisper down her neck. Because she had to believe that it would make it worth something. That she was getting closer to earning her way back, that she wasn't abandoning her twin — just biding her time until she could tear the clan down with her own two hands.

She glanced at Megumi, the tension in his muscles, the barely healed cuts on his arms, the faint trickle of blood from the ripped open callouses on the palm of his hand and the way he was holding himself together like his world was taped up hastily and might shatter. She saw herself in him, younger her who kept pushing forward because stopping and turning around meant seeing what she had left behind.

"I didn't come here to hurt myself. I came to train."

Something almost akin to a scoff escaped the boy, though it also could have been him breathing out in exertion, "Right. Because your hands weren't wrapped in tape yesterday either, right?"

"That's different," she said but Maki wasn't typically somebody who lied to herself.

Megumi bent at the knees, deep, the sword reflecting the moonlight for a split second, his shoulders twitching in a shrug. "I'll stop if you stop."

Maki felt it sit in the pit of her stomach — the guilt at her own decision, the rightful anger at her clan, the choking pressure of her desire. Then she rolled her own shoulders, steeled herself and with it came the resolve: even if there was nobody who would understand her, who could walk in her shoes, who could save Mai from the Zen'in clan's clutches, she would have to continue on.

There was no other way it could go.

"You're overthinking your third stance."

His voice was rough, almost desperate. "Show me."

25th of April; 01:18. — you.

There was a folded strip of black paper sitting on your bed, pressed and knotted with a red threat.

A talisman.

Kyoto-issued, so it seemed. You'd recognise the ink pattern everywhere having seen it in your school, a subconscious reminder that you weren't here to have fun. Well, it wasn't like you were having any special fun, but still, the appearance of such a charm had your spine straighten up immediately.

Carefully, you let your gaze roam through your entire room, but nothing seemed out of the norm. If anything, it might have been even too tidy, though that also might be your paranoia talking. As much as your room looked like it always did, the talisman was very well out of norm.

Kyoto Jujutsu High usually didn't get in contact with you, unless there was something dire.

And that couldn't be, because you hadn't noticed anything worthy of noting down yet, because nothing was happening here. Nothing of significance for Gakuganji, at least. Nothing that warranted them contacting you directly and sending you a message so obviously.

You picked up the paper, your eyes recognising the charm written up, general polite well wishes, and underneath in strokes that only a select few could read:

As we have yet to receive any updates, we would greatly appreciate a brief report at your earliest convenience. Should circumstances remain unchanged, we may be required to explore other available options. We appreciate your continued efforts and trust you will keep us informed.

Of course. There was no name, no seal, no malice in those words. Seemingly. Only incredible politeness, a veiled threat, so if one were to read it, it would sound like a mildly scolding letter.

You stared at the charm, the crease where it was folded neatly. Your first thought had been that you missed a report — that somehow you'd let something slip. But you knew yourself, knew the meticulousness with which you always prepared the seals, knew that the correspondence was as tight and precise as your technique.

You pursed your lips in thought.

If they had sent something now, that meant your charms weren't reaching them for a while now. You hadn't thought much of the silence after each of the transmissions; no confirmation coming back wasn't unusual. The Kyoto faculty preferred silence, the kind of quiet superiority that made them respond when they deemed it important, not one second before.

But now this.

If your reports weren't arriving, then either something had intercepted them…or someone had. Both implications had your forehead create way too many wrinkles for your age and instinctively, you glanced toward the window, the slow sway of the courtyard trees like a whisper about to tell you its secrets.

The paper folded without resistance, at the same seam as before. It didn't matter if someone had been interfering, you decided; you had no proof or any grounds to throw around accusations, especially since that wasn't Kyoto's intention to begin with. They'd rather replace you than make sure to find out who was trying to foil their plans. Beside the fact that it wasn't your job to speculate. It was to observe. To report. To be useful.

It wasn't quite the way you liked to do things for it made no sense to you that other people would offer up information out of their own volition. If there was no action taken, how could you ever find out about people? How were you ever going to prove your usefulness to the people who deemed it so easy to replace you?

You hadn't expected to feel anything, reading those words — certainly not this hesitation. Not when you were here with a purpose; but still: it twisted inside you, low and persistent.

Which meant no more distractions.

Because if your chest twisted like that then that meant you had been dragging your feet, it meant that a part of you had started to hope the assignment would quietly dissolve before it reached a critical point. Because it meant that you started to get attached when you were just being thorough.

You straightened the paper, smoothing the wrinkles that didn't exist. No more chasing tension for your enjoyment's sake. No more watching Fushiguro Megumi to see if you could crack the surface, to see if his innards spilled out with all the thoughts and feelings he kept hidden, the fight with himself to figure out who he was. No more trying to provoke him.

You'd wasted much time trying to figure out what lay behind that tired sharpness in his eyes, the way he flinched at praise, the way he always looked like he was dragging something unseen behind him.

You couldn't make that mistake again.

Whatever role he played, whatever potential Kyoto thought he might harbour and develop, it wasn't yours to decipher. It wasn't yours to push. It wasn't your mission. He wasn't.

Whatever interference had occurred, it wouldn't happen twice.

26th of April; 16:34. — fushiguro megumi.

"She's not that bad, you know?"

Fushiguro Megumi didn't want to look up to see the pink of Yuji's hair drown with an orange sheen, to watch the sky bleed into lavender, evening announcing itself slowly, gently.

He thought that he really didn't want to talk about it.

There wasn't anything to talk about, not about you, and not about you with Yuji. Especially not him. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate his input — at times. But this? This wasn't something Megumi wanted to lay out for anyone, not something he wanted to talk with Yuji about.

Not the argument that him and you had, about the accusation standing in the room, about all the things that he knew Yuji felt strongly about. Megumi knew that he would take it hard.

So he scoffed, his chin finding its way onto the palm of his hand, "Yeah, well, she thinks being loud is the same thing as being right."

"Cool. But that's not what I asked," Yuji leaned back, his elbows finding the stone steps behind him.

No, it wasn't. He knew it wasn't.

There was a soft breeze, a certain warmth swinging alongside it. The stones beneath him were warm, too, still lingering in the former caress of the sun. Yuji wasn't looking at him, and that somehow made it worse. If he had been, if there had been pity in his face or concern in his eyes, then Megumi could have shut it down. Cut the conversation short. But the casual posture, the light tilt of his head back toward the sky — it made it harder to tell him to shut up.

It would have been easier if he wasn't here. If Yuji wasn't trying to poke holes in walls that Megumi had already worn himself out trying to keep up.

So he said, flatly, "Why you here?"

Yuji didn't take the bait, and that annoyed Megumi, too. But there wasn't a lot that didn't manage to irk Megumi nowadays.

"Because you don't talk to her," he said simply, "Maybe you'll talk to me."

Megumi didn't move, but the grass in front of him did; swinging with the soft picking up of the wind. Yuji's voice wasn't accusing or disappointed; it was gentle in the way that only Yuji could sound like. Goodhearted, open, optimistic. He talked like he knew it was difficult and didn't want to make it harder, and that was exactly what made it difficult to shove him away.

"You care. That's what's messing you up, isn't it?"

Megumi didn't dare breathe.

"She pissed you off. Got too close. Now you don't know what to do with it."

He exhaled softly. Yuji was wrong — or at least, somewhat. It wasn't that he cared about you. It was the way you looked him in the eye and questioned everything he believed in. His desire to save lives — all lives, if possible; that he wasn't actually doing it. That killing the curse wasn't always the same as winning, that the mission, the regulations weren't absolute. Couldn't be.

You believed in getting it done and accepting what had to be lost along the way, and it was the way you had been calm about it. Cold, even. Efficient, not even necessarily cruel, though he thought you were — but just clear.

And that had shaken him.

A part of him was wondering if you were right. He was pissed about that.

Because standing in the rubble of the half-collapsed shopping mall with the girl crying behind him, he had hesitated. Not even because it was hard. But because it wasn't.

"Mind your own business, Itadori."

Yuji stayed on the steps, solid, still, refusing to be dismissed. There was a pause, and then:

"Nah."

He knew Itadori Yuji. Knew the tone and knew exactly what it meant — that this wasn't going to be one of those conversations that got buried under a shrug and a change of subject. Yuji wasn't leaving, not until he had said whatever he wanted to come say. There was a quiet patience in his eyes, the kind that made Megumi feel seen, a little exposed, challenged.

He rubbed at the corner of his brow with two fingers, eyes closing with exhaustion that ran deep. "I said drop it."

"Yeah," Yuji nodded. "I heard you."

"You don't get it." Megumi imagined Yuji like a fly that he could swat away, bury all his thoughts under the same swatter, squish them out of existence. His tongue felt heavy. Had he never said this out loud? It felt like he had been saying nothing else for weeks now. With a tight jaw, he muttered, "You would've saved them. So would i. That's not the issue."

"Then what is?"

Megumi hesitated. He didn't want to offer his thoughts, everything in him didn't want to admit it like that, but this was Yuji. The same person who who had jumped into danger without a second thought just to protect someone he barely knew, so he cradled the thing that sat in his chest like weight and pushed it out, "She made it sound like doing that made me weak. Like— like it was selfish."

He thought that if he could save someone, even one person, that should be enough. But she made it sound like wanting that meant he was doing it for himself, like he wasn't thinking about the bigger picture. Like he didn't care.

Yuji was silent for a while, and Megumi stiffened, and then—

With a shrug that didn't match the weight of his words: "So what if it was selfish?"

Megumi's shoulders stayed tense but he blinked, his eyes wandering over to Yuji but all he met was a steady look back, calm, grounded in a way that Yuji rarely looked like.

"We make choices and live with them. Sometimes that's selfish. I don't think it means it's wrong," Yuji hesitated, then shrugged again, though this time it was more of a way to get rid of thoughts that intruded on his spoken words, "Maybe it's not even about who's right. Maybe it's just about who's willing to live with what they chose."

Megumi's chest ached. Yuji spoke with a certainty that made him think about Sukuna's finger that Yuji ate that roped him into a world that brought nothing but misery, and why he had such a hard time doing the same when he grew up within it. He didn't respond, not because he disagreed, even though he wanted to push back, to argue, to find a reason for why he would be right, but because the words wouldn't come.

Maybe it was his pride. Maybe it was shame crawling up his throat, laying bitter on his tongue. It wasn't a question of his decision, it was a question of who he was.

Yuji stood up and brushed off his pants like he hadn't just pulled something raw into the light, like the conversation was done. And maybe it was. Megumi made no start to stop Yuji, anyway.

"If you don't wanna talk to her, fine. But don't lie to yourself about why."

3rd of May; 18:52. — you.

The warehouse reeked.

Like mold, blood, and something sour that clung to the back of the throat — the kind of stink that told you a curse didn't die clean. And it didn't: there was a substance resembling blood splattered all over the floor, like it couldn't escape fast enough from where it had been squashed into mush.

Megumi stepped over it, his boots making a wet sound on the floor, his steps heavy and with purpose in the vast silence that suddenly laid itself on top of you like a thick blanket. The air was heavy with aftershocks of cursed energy; the taste tangy and metallic on your tongue.

You could hear the drip of blood from the curve of your sword, the echo hanging in the air, drip, drip, drip.

It gnawed on your nerves, a slow and deliberate sound that you couldn't escape, so you flicked the blade off with a swift motion. Your eyes swept over the shadows lingering from when megumi had called them.

Footsteps matching his in the quiet, the rhythm of yours echo out of sync, a subtle discord that had become almost too familiar. Before, the silence had been filled with sharp words, teasing, half-fulfilled orders, information, occasional jabs. Now?

Now it was just motion. Breathe. Get it done. Get out. No checks. No confirmation. No reason to linger.

Megumi didn't wait for you to catch up. He moved forward without a glance, the slight echo of his voice cutting through the stillness, not loud enough to be a real order, not quiet enough to ignore, "Let's go."

You followed because, well, it was over. The job was done, and there was nothing left to say.

5th of May; 12:01. — fushiguro megumi.

Fushiguro Megumi didn't know why he was lingering around the broken shopping mart in Yurakucho.

With his hands loose by his side, his eyes travelled over the police tapes that were slowly being rolled together. The curse hadn't come back, because if it had, there wouldn't have been the shifting from police workers to construction workers over the weeks.

His heart was beating steady, watching the bustle, the shouts over the sound of equipment, the everyday hustle of people who didn't know better, who didn't have to know better. He continued standing there, watching until the workers gathered together for lunch time.

Megumi ducked under the signs that warned other citizens to stay out, and entered through the broken doors, now cleaned off the shards. His feet took him to the third floor automatically, the entire mall looking weirdly peaceful without the shelves reaching over to keep him in their grasp, without the air weighing him down like he was going to crumble underneath the pressure. The lights were turned off, the electrical wires cut, but there was enough light coming through from the ripped down wall to the south side that he needn't worry about seeing, and he observed the dust dancing in the air.

There was no cursed energy lingering around anymore, but he found the faded circle of red on the floor easily.

He didn't have to worry about the cursed womb anymore, didn't have to worry about anybody else getting hurt.

His teacher had caught him on the extended balcony of the main building in Tokyo Jujutsu High a couple days back, jutting out to observe the main courtyard and if he turned, a side view of the sport field expanding right in front of him. His other schoolmates were training out, and he hadn't joined them; instead, his eyes flitted over the starfish spread of Inumaki's — a Yuji standing next to him poking him with a stick, the huge body of Panda's throwing around a screeching Nobara, the band of limbs blurring in a spar between Maki and you.

His lips twisted, and he looked away.

"Megumi skipping school? Scandalous!"

He barely flinched when he heard Gojo's cheerful tenor ring through the air behind him, too used to his teacher popping in at whatever times he deemed fit. He couldn't tell whether Gojo had come up using the stairs like a normal person, though knowing his teacher, that would have been too boring.

Megumi didn't think he needed to answer. He knew he was supposed to be down there training alongside the rest of his classmates, but he couldn't step foot onto the field, knowing you were there. If ignoring you had been difficult before, it was almost impossible now, even though he didn't speak to you, your own comments having dwindled, only terse necessities when you were put together on missions.

It was less the quantity of commentary that weighed on him heavily; it was just the way his hair stood on its ends, his skin prickling at your mere presence. There was a charge to the air between you both, the accusation and assumption sitting in the atoms he breathed in, heavy, tasting like static.

He shook his head lightly, the memory of a certain monitor beeping in his ears fading. He wasn't wasting time, he wasn't — he was going to train twice as hard, was going to make up for it. His missing the training with the rest of the students would have no bearing on his performance. He was going to make sure of it.

He had no other choice.

"Just so you know, I don't quite mind. I do approve of a little rebellious streak," Gojo's saunter towards the railing where Megumi stood was insufferable. It was not just the way he walked, like gravity bent over backwards for him, the bounce in his steps, like he was mocking the world and daring it to do something about it, but also the underlying message through the easy sway of his shoulders: that he was untouchable. "But skipping school is a slippery slope. First, it's one day. Then it's two. Next you know, the others avoid handling you at staff meetings, and I'm the one who has to go through all your reports. Not fun."

A dry remark, no questions intended. "Do you even read the reports."

"Nah. I don't. It's too much of a hassle," his teacher said with a grin, his canines sharp and glinting in the sun. His elbows propped up on the railing, his back to the sports field, he looked up to the sky. Or, well, his face was looking towards the sky, his eyes might has well have been roaming Megumi's face. Not that he would know where Gojo was looking with that blindfold on.

There was a kind of quiet between them that felt like it was supposed to be purposeful. He didn't like it, his hands gripping the railing a bit tighter, like he could redirect his tension through his fingertips to the wood. There was a breeze softly caressing Megumi's face, and for a second, he wondered if he deserved to have the world treat him so gently, when he—

"I exorcised the curse."

On instinct, Megumi whirled around towards Gojo and the distinctive curve of his jaw as he continued to study the sky's blue, the spare clouds here and there. Like clockwork, the stone in Megumi's stomach sank deeper, and his knuckles whitened on the wood, his nails digging between the rills of the old timber.

"I know there's coulda-woulda-shouldas going through your head. You don't have to tell me, I know I've got bingo already," Gojo said offhandedly, and finally turned his head to Megumi, his smile softening, less of a tease, more of an inspection.

Megumi looked away, the wood digging in between the nail and his skin, right in the crevice where it was hard to get out. "You shouldn't have had to clean up after me."

"Aww, come on, that's what I'm here for. Let me have my moment," a snap of his fingers, "I even looked cool doing it — real flashy. Big crown. Someone might have clapped, ya never know."

His teacher was so ridiculous, Megumi couldn't stop the huff escaping him. Of course, he was out to be praised, so full of himself the way he always was. To an extent, Megumi even appreciated the ease with which he talked. Not that he would ever admit it. "You're not helping."

Gojo bent down, the tip of his sharp nose getting awfully close to Megumi's. "Also, for the record, the whole spinning around you just did? Very dramatic, I give it an 8.5 out of 10."

Megumi jerked his head back, sending a glare towards his teacher, "Do you ever stop talking?"

"Not unless I'm unconscious. Or dead," both hands up in the hair, Gojo stood upright again, to his full height; assured, confident, a fact, "Hold your horses, Megumi — I'm not planning on either of those today. Or the near future."

Megumi's eyes found their way from his teacher to the field again. Inumaki had finally gotten up, though he was still a far cry away from actually gearing up to fight. Maki had moved on to rope Panda into blocking a flurry of her attacks, every movement precise and trained, no wasted moment. Yuji and Nobara were off to the side, engaged in the typical bickering he knew his classmates to partake in. A threatening raise of her hand at Yuji, an assuaged shoulder dropping directed at Nobara.

You were nowhere to be seen, and Megumi hated that he took note of it, that his fingers let up for a second, that the coil in his stomach uncurled. And when gojo spoke again, he hated the way relief wormed itself through his heart, as if he deserved it.

He hated, too, how much he welcomed the relief.

"It's alright for the stuff to weigh on you. You think you're the only one holding the line sometimes," Gojo's voice was serious, in a way that Megumi seldom heard, "You're not. You've got people behind you. Beside you. Me included, aren't you lucky."

Because it was true. Because Megumi could rely on Gojo Satoru. Because he could rest assured that his teacher had always looked out for him, and would always do so, despite being so annoying about it. Or maybe perhaps, even more so because of it.

"…thanks."

Gojo's grin returned with ease, shoulders pulled up as he kicked off the railing. "By the way, the next time you skip class, at least pretend to be doing something cool. Like I dunno — stealing a cursed artefact, annoying Nanami until it looks like the button on his collar is gonna burst, infiltrating a rival Jujutsu School…the list is endless!"

"Those are all terrible ideas."

A gasp, and Gojo turned around, his hand clutching his chest, "Excuse me for having taste."

Megumi had rolled his eyes, but inwardly, he had felt a weird mix between mollification and a nervous fraying around his edges. Making his way down to the training grounds as well to take over Panda's spot, he had even managed to ignore that he was only going down because you weren't there anymore.

A coward—

No.

He just didn't want to get into fights anymore, he told himself, he was sick of it.

Standing in the wreckage left behind of the failed mission now, he couldn't muster up the relief that he felt when Gojo first told him that the curse was gone. He didn't have to worry about it anymore, didn't have to agonise over it at night, could finally focus on his next missions, of not repeating the mistake.

The curse was dealt with. No one else would get hurt, no news alert or updates that he would have to await with bated breath. No more imagining what could have happened — because none if it had happened. And now, it never would.

So why, instead of ease, did he feel a familiar tightness in his chest?

His fingers swept over the mark of his shikigami's warding attack, muscles loose, not clenched, not angry.

The second Megumi learned that Gojo had stepped in, the weight had vanished from his shoulders like it had never been his in the first place. The moment it wasn't his problem anymore, it had stopped being real. The guilt, the panic, the second-guessing — all of it evaporated. Gojo had fixed it. He had always fixed it.

But what if his teacher died? What if there was nobody around to pick up the pieces he left on the ground?

He pressed his lips together.

Megumi didn't use to think about it, but then you threw it at his head, the question of whether he knew that his sense of justice disappeared so easily and—

The comfort sitting in his bones, in the cracks of his joints, turned sour, like milk that was expiring. Gojo could shoulder the burden like it was weightless — and for him, maybe it was. But Megumi wasn't like that. Was he going to rely on his teacher forever?

If he started choosing who lived, if he stained his hands so others could stay clean, would maybe one day the relief feel genuine?

1st of May; 14:28. — you.

You lingered near the restricted area, your fingers hovering over the glass display case. You didn't dare touch anything, but your eyes were sweeping over the more dangerous collection of cursed objects. The area hummed with restrained malevolence; the ancient talismans pulsed dimly, guarded by layered barriers woven so tightly that even the air seemed hesitant to stir.

You didn't intend to steal anything. T

his was merely reconnaissance, to confirm whether the rumour over at Kyoto's were true: that Tokyo Jujutsu High had been quietly amassing cursed relics far beyond what they reported to the higher-ups. That under Gojo Satoru's protection, they'd turned the school into something closer to a private arsenal than a neutral institution.

But this wasn't about fairness or balance, that you knew. It always came down to fear, to wanting to gain the upper hand against somebody they didn't trust. Neither gojo nor his students, and especially not the influx of power the first-years all brought along.

Standing there, surrounded by cursed tools older than some dynasties in Japan, you felt weird.

This wasn't just a vault, it was a warning, too. A reminder that if Tokyo wanted to, they really could overpower Kyoto before it ever drew its own blade. And if it was true, what would the elders plan to do with this information if you delivered it?

In the end, you shouldn't care. You were a tool to use, a means to someone else's end, you were just there to collect information, and leave before anything could happen. Ever since you found that talisman on your bed, you kept repeating it to yourself, yet still —

Strangely, your first thought was of Itadori Yuji.

Not because he was friendly, even though he was. Not because he always offered to spar, even though he did, or because he was so earnest, but because of what he carried inside him.

You had seen it in flashes; in the way his smile faltered when he thought no one was watching, in the tension in his shoulders when he had to deploy Sukuna to take over his body, like he was bracing himself for something he couldn't stop.

He bore the King of Curses like a time bomb behind his ribs, and the worst thing about it was that he wasn't just a vessel. He was a boy trying to stay himself. So if what you learned here about Tokyo's cursed arsenal got back to Kyoto's elders, would they have more leverage to use against Yuji?

You were their spy, yet—

"So, funny thing," came a voice from behind you, "back during my days, the restricted section wasn't on the student tour."

You froze.

Gojo Satoru stood just a few steps back, hands in his pockets, posture loose, like he had just strolled in by accident. His blindfold was slightly pushed up, one pale blue eye gleaming under the low light. He wasn't smiling, but his tone was light, breezy, almost bored.

Like catching you here was a minor curiosity.

You turned slowly, "Gojo-sensei."

"Wow. Polite!" he nodded appreciatively, the corner of his mouth twitching, "Didn't expect that, considering the whole Kyoto sending you here and not teaching you how to trip a proximity ward. How is Utahime, by the way? She still giving the staff at the Karaoke's grey hair?"

Your answer was hesitant, slow, careful, "This place is off-limits? I could swear it wasn't. That's my fault. I can be on my way out, no time wasted."

There was a brilliant smile on Gojo's face at you playing stupid now; like a mask, easy and lazy, but there was a dangerous glint in the way his canine caught the light. "Cute. You lie like somebody who's never had to lie to me before."

"I wasn't—"

"—lying? Spying? Trying to sell me some sweet, innocent act?" he finished for you, his grin sharpening, his attention on you razor sharp, "Nah. Of course not. I can give you some pointers if you want my professional constructive criticism."

So lying wasn't an option anymore.

Not that you thought it ever really was, but in the same way that the higher-ups had no issue throwing out obvious, outrageous excuses like that, you thought maybe you could do the same to save yourself. But of course, it was a stupid decision. You had neither the power nor the authority nor the leverage to pit against somebody like Gojo Satoru to even try to pull shit out of your ass.

If anything, you didn't know if Kyoto even had any control. Not when it was the honoured clan heir on the other side.

What were your options then?

Despite the imposing presence of Gojo's, like an incessant reminder of the energy thrumming underneath his cool demeanour luring you to see him as an enemy, you couldn't attack. Not if you wanted to keep all of your bones intact. It would only end one way and that was with you in a hospital and having lost all semblance of some sort of trust between not just you both, but also with the other first-years.

Not that any trust had ever been really genuine, but at least it hadn't disturbed the status quo between you during all the weeks before.

You also didn't want to fight. Not like that. Not against Gojo Satoru. Ever.

You could try to stick to lying and pretend like you were innocent — it might even work, depending on how much good-will Gojo owned in that moment, how playful he was to really allow you to walk that line. He wouldn't believe you, but maybe you could appease him a little. On the other hand, it could also go insanely wrong in that he doesn't take kindly to being toyed with.

As stupid as it sounded, it was a viable option, but it was too much of a wild card to really trust that it would work either way.

Another option, which, out of everything, was not high on your list, was to offer him something in return if he let you get away with it. If you could convince him that you were more useful to keep around, you might be able to play it safe. He might be insulted, or he might take the offer, but either way, you would lose his respect and any possible prospect of gaining trust. Which, again, did not help your case in any way.

That lead to two different problems, though, which could be viewed on two different scales of importance, too. For one, and far less important, your behaviour was not just representative of yourself, but of Kyoto too, so any repercussions were directed back to the elders as well. You yourself didn't particularly care whether Gojo Satoru had respect for you, though having him as an enemy was not quite on your to-do list, either; but being the reason for the stand-off between the two schools to sharpen? Difficult.

Another reason, far more important to you, was to sell yourself like that went against your own principles; you were not in the habit of disregarding your own feelings in favour of saving yourself.

You were following your job, you knew that. You could treat it like a mission, because it essentially behaved like one, except a part of you couldn't because it wasn't against enemies, curses and curse users that intend to hurt innocent people. It was against other sorcerers, in a game where you were supposed to smile in Yuji's face and then feed his future to people who'd rather he die quietly than live inconveniently.

How much of a pawn did you want to be? You didn't care when you came here to Tokyo, but you also hadn't known any of the students here, hadn't seen how hard they worked to make a different future for Jujutsu Society.

You talked all about Megumi and his inability to be true to himself, but how about you?

The words left your mouth as calmly as you could manage, as steady as you could bring yourself to sound with Gojo Satoru watching over you like a hawk, "I didn't come here to steal anything."

Was that your smartest move? Maybe. Maybe not. It was hard to guess with him, but it was at the very least the truth and sometimes, when nothing else worked, truth was all you had left. It was your best bet at catching his attention; somebody who occupied the stance that Gojo Satoru did would appreciate honesty, you thought.

"You must be really curious then to ignore all the seals."

So he wasn't going to let you off easy. Almost, you were hoping he would be kind to you.

"They don't trust you. Or Tokyo," you didn't have to mention who they was; Gojo knew. By the shift in the air, the lessening of oppressive attention, you also knew he was listening now. "Not with the first-years. Not with Itadori. And especially not with you standing between them and the chain of command."

He didn't interrupt, so you continued.

"I guess you could call me spy, but they never do. Well, not officially, anyway. It's called oversight, information gathering, or whatever other thing they can come up with," you swallowed the amount of saliva having gathered in your mouth from your rambling, "They think this school is building its own army."

"An army, eh?" Gojo made a low sound in his throat, an unceremonious snort escaping him, "I can't say we haven't a good roster this time round: a hammer, a puppeteer, a ticking walking bomb? Nah, I gotta tweak that one a little…just the bomb? Hmm…"

You interrupted him before he could spiral into another tangent, "Point is, they're scared of you."

He turned towards you and despite the brightness of his eye roaming over your form, his words were honest, "Good. They should be."

You stayed still, because— "What are you going to do?"

Gojo blinked, lazily, as if none of it truly concerned him. Like catching a spy in Tokyo Jujutsu High's restricted section was no more urgent than choosing what flavour Mochi to buy. But nothing about the casual motions of a tight-lipped smile curling onto his face or his fingers tapping his chin was idle to fool you.

"Me?" he echoed, "Oh no, I'm just sitting in the front-row seat of 'what are you going to do?"

You swallowed, just once. "I could tell them about all this here."

"Naturally," he said, one shoulder heaving up in a small shrug. The way his head tilted reminded you of a bird, "You could."

Was there a trap in his words? You weren't sure. That was the problem with Gojo Satoru — he didn't need to be flashy to be dangerous. Sometimes it even hid in plain sight, draped in his infuriating nonchalance and wrapped in his lazy smiles.

Was the off-handed way he regarded you a threat?

Maybe.

He didn't look like he was posturing. He didn't have to. He barely moved since the moment he caught you, and yet you hadn't relaxed once. His eye watched you, but not in a way a predator would its prey, because that was still seeing you on the same plane of existence as him and right now, you weren't.

He watched you like a god watched a candle.

You studied him back. "You're not going to stop me?"

"I already did."

Things were not written in stone. Theoretically, you knew that.

You could send your report back to Kyoto, and it would carry your name. You could choose to continue your mission the way it was intended, could accept that you essentially were a discardable part of a plan that was larger than you. The plan that encompassed the death of Itadori Yuji, that had its eyes set on Fushiguro Megumi and the power imbalance of his cursed technique officially belonging to no clan, but still could be seen as an extension of the Gojo family.

You could do a lot of things, but the way he was waiting for you to understand made you feel like your decision had been made hours ago already. That it had been cemented in moments that you hadn't thought twice about: the first time you snorted at Yuji's really-not-funny joke but he lit up like he got handed a prize when he realised who it came from.

The first time Nobara didn't bother hiding her annoyance during a dragged-out explanation during training but still shifted enough to give you a clear view.

The first time you saw Megumi hesitate before a mission, so minuscule that you had almost dismissed it, his jaw tight and eyes distant, that spurred on your curiosity about what he was hiding.

That was the trap, you thought, not Gojo's words but, put on the spot in front of a decision, how treacherous your heart and mind were.

7th of May; 22:13. — kugisaki nobara.

"Yo."

"Gojo-sensei!"

"Yuji, my favourite student who is absolutely not my favourite just because you're the only one who has decency enough to miss me so when I'm gone!"

Nobara tried her best at Maki's eye roll again, "Teacher's pet."

"Wait…am I not supposed to say hi?"

"Nevermind that, Yuji-kun! Won't I get a heartfelt greeting from my other two favourite gremlins?"

"Hi." — "What's the mission."

"Yuji, close the windows. There's a real cold draft. Weird."

"But there's none open…"

Ignoring yuji, her teacher continued cheerfully, throwing a file onto the table, "I come bearing gifts!"

Nobara's head thumped against her arm. Goodbye, skin care routine. Goodbye, a good night's sleep. Goodbye, peace.

8th of May; 23:42. — you.

Megumi's leg was touching yours.

The problem with being four people in a short limousine was that there were two single seats that both Nobara and Yuji were quick to claim. In fact, as you all were walking down to the awaiting car on the main street, both of your classmates started accelerating until they were speed walking at a very conspicuous pace. Megumi huffed to himself, a deep annoyed sigh, a few steps behind you but you didn't think much of it until Iwata opened the door for you both and an innocent Yuji was looking back from the front row seats.

The boy's pink-haired head immediately whirled forward when he caught your eye, but it wasn't quick enough for you to have missed the slightly guilty expression painted all over his features. Your eyebrows wandered even higher up when your periphery registered movement between the seats, Nobara's well-manicured fingers slightly pinching Yuji's thigh.

Her lips mouthed something towards him, quick, messy enough that you couldn't catch it but apparently that was enough for Yuji because his brows furrowed and he nodded, resigned, accepting his part in whatever scheme she was coming up with.

"Move," Megumi grunted from behind you when you took to long to enter, and pushed himself past you into the car.

"Don't strain yourself with all that politeness, Fushiguro," you bit out.

It was a cruel joke, looking inside the vehicle and finding that the only seat you could possibly take was right next to Megumi's right. Well, it would have been Megumi's left if you had entered the car first, but at least it would have been at your choosing which side you'd rather occupy.

Not your mission, you reminded yourself with a press of your lips, before sliding into your seat and allowed Iwata to shut your door close so he could drive you all to the mission site.

That had been eighteen minutes ago, and Megumi's leg was touching yours for the past thirteen of those. Megumi who had stubbornly stared out the window, who kept his body to himself, tense, with his arms crossed, until his head lolled forward slightly and his body relaxed slowly.

It was funny how open to an attack he was in that position, the back of his neck exposed as his chin softly bumped against his chest. If the Kyoto elders had tasked you to get rid of the Zen'in brat with the Ten Shadows Technique, you could have done so easily in that moment: taken a hold of the dagger you kept with you and aimed for his carotid, then dragged it up to his internal jugular. He would've been dead before he could have even had the chance to wake up again.

They didn't ask that of you, though, so you sat in this car with Yuji's and Nobara's whispers in front of you, and Megumi's leg that touched yours.

9th of May; 01:18. — you.

"This place smells like whatever's festering in those idiots' laundry pile."

Nobara wasn't exaggerating.

The stench of stagnant water reeked of bacteria finding a welcoming home; flowers that had been standing in their dirty water for weeks, a sickly sweet under note. It reminded you of buried corpses beneath wet earth, rotten.

The entrance to the underpass stretched out before you, half-drowned in shadow as murky floodwater trickled out steadily. Despite the sloshing of water reaching your ears faintly, there were no other sounds to indicate there was something nesting inside there: no breeze of wind, no metal creaking, no movement through the water.

There had been residual cursed energy picked up from the last site that the curse was lingering around, though it was difficult for to scouts who were monitoring the area to pick up the exact location. The curse was constantly moving, apparently extremely territorial and, most importantly, smart enough to avoid detection until now.

"What are you doing?"

You turned slightly to observe Yuji bending down, untying his boots, "I didn't know the water was going to be that deep!! I'm wearing my cool socks, so — " he rolled his socks into a little ball, stuffed it into his pocket before slipping into his shoes, sock-less, " — problem solved."

"Ugh, yikes."

"We should split up as we discussed," Megumi spoke up, his voice scratchy from when he woke up from his slumber earlier.

When the car came to a halt and the overhead light turned on, his body had stilled as his eyelashes fluttered lightly, opening, coming to his senses with a blink. He was quiet, when awaking. But Megumi, when left to his devices, was always very quiet, even more so in the recent weeks. His jaw slightly moved when he released the tension held within his teeth and his chest moved with a deep breath, shoulders staying relaxed momentarily before they stiffened when he felt your gaze on his face.

He had looked at you, something raw in his eyes, and you looked back. For a second there was nothing between you both other than just space that existed, then his knee had pulled away and you had turned and gotten out of the car.

"Sweep it from both ends. One team at the north entrance, and one from the spillway," Megumi continued. "At least this way we can cut off one route if it decides to lead us through a chase."

As you were approaching the mission site earlier, Yuji had asked about the distribution of teammates, and a quiet Iwata had spoken up. His voice was soft, hesitant like he was scared to unleash a storm with what he was about to announce. Apparently, Gojo had made it clear to the assistant manager to convey his explicit desire to have you and Megumi paired up.

You hadn't bothered to either act or be surprised about that development, taking the 'news' with as neutral a face as you could manage. Obviously, you would have preferred to share the name of teammates with Yuji instead, but after the encounter with Gojo, you weren't surprised that you were to be kept away from the pink-haired student that had the Kyoto elders in an uproar. It didn't matter that nothing in your secret mission had mentioned any bodily harm to Yuji, nevermind the fact that you didn't want to hurt him, but if it were you in anyone else's shoes, you would have kept yourself far from him, too.

The lack of trust didn't hurt you, for it made sense and you weren't sure you trusted Gojo Satoru and his little games entirely, either. It was a give and take, so nothing you could do about it.

What captured your attention instead was the fact that Megumi's face hadn't moved at the announcement, either. Where there would have been a palpable exasperation at sharing his presence with you, a frustrated grimace, a twist of lips, he just quietly accepted it now. It had you narrowing your eyes, a thoughtful curl of your mouth that you couldn't hold back.

His lack of ill-will was off-putting; the oppressive quiet he had layered over himself over the past weeks slowly, bit by bit, one that suffocated the usual reticence he carried with him. it wasn't like you knew too much about his private life, so you couldn't pin point what exactly had happened that had Megumi hide behind the biggest mask of indifference you had ever seen, and—

Not your mission.

There was fire licking at your fingertips, urging your tongue to loosen up to coax it out of him, because you knew there was something contained behind the seams, trying to burst. You knew because you felt the same way. Because there was something brewing in your chest that wanted out, because Kyoto made it clear not to intervene with anything and not to care. Because Megumi was not your business.

You're not going to stop me?

I already did.

You exhaled harshly.

The sound echoed off the walls of the underpass, seemingly stretching endlessly in front of you. Your shoes were wet and you were glad that the water hadn't seeped through them to dampen your socks — yet. If you had to walk any longer in the rising water level, they would become so sooner or later. The water rippled around your shins faintly, lit dully by the weak glow of your flashlights. Moss climbed up the walls in green veins and every few paces the rusted husk of a bicycle or the tip of a traffic cone broke through the surface.

Megumi was wading through the water as well, next to you, his eyes observing the tunnel walls like they might peel open and serve the curse on a silver platter, a stern line on his mouth. The silence stretched thin — taut with the weird change between you both. He hadn't spoken a word since you entered, and it didn't bother you, you told yourself.

Except there were comments that burned on your tongue, so you did the sensible thing and swallowed them down with the same-old mantra you had adopted ever since you found the talisman on your bed.

Ignoring the fact that ever since Gojo had found you sniffing around, you hadn't actively went to search for any new information, either.

9th of May; 02:03. — itadori yuji.

"If this thing doesn't show soon, I'm gonna curse it for wasting my time when I could be getting beauty sleep," Nobara's boots splashed as she moved on ahead, her hammer kept low.

Rip her mouth to shreds. She talks more than you whine around, brat.

Itadori Yuji flinched just a little, shoulders tensing instinctively at the voice that coiled through his mind like rot given form. Sukuna's tone was laced with dark amusement, sharp and sleazy, sliding into the quiet of Yuji's mind like a knife. His voice carried the weight of ages — dry, scornful, each syllable curled with contempt.

He tried not to show it. He was getting better at hiding when Sukuna slithered in, but it still left that familiar feeling in his chest, like he'd swallowed nails. But Yuji also knew that Sukuna loved to get the best of him, so his best bet had always been to not give the King of Curses the satisfaction of a response.

He trudged through the water beside Nobara, arms slightly raised like the water might leap up and bite, "It's not so bad. You think curses can swim?"

"Shut up before you jinx us," she muttered.

Yuji glanced at nobara, trying to gauge her mood. She was always so confident, so brash, but tonight there was something different about her. A tension in her shoulders, a tightness in her jaw. It wasn't just her missing her beauty sleep, it wasn't just the mission. She was annoyed, sure — that was kind of her default — but… more than that.

He couldn't really blame her because Yuji felt weird most of the time, too.

He knew that not everyone shared the same line that he drew in the sand.

He hated it. Hated the feeling of watching his friend hurting over something he understood very well, of the sting of pain that stayed lodged deep beneath his ribs, creeping into dreams and daylight alike. Yuji had lived it, Megumi had lived it, Nobara had, they were still living it; the same wound that wouldn't stop bleeding because it never got any time to heal.

Yuji knew that Megumi would throw himself into danger if it meant somebody could be saved — it was why he appreciated and trusted Megumi after all this time so deeply.

But you?

If he had to say, he wasn't quite sure where to put you on his scale. He didn't think that you both were strictly in the category of friends, but he also didn't think that you weren't. If worse came to worst, he would protect you as he would with any other of his teammates, the same way he would with any given human, but he wasn't sure whether he enjoyed your presence, not when he saw how biting your words could be.

Yuji generally was a forgiving person, straight forward, optimistic even, but then sometimes you fixed him with this look of yours as if you knew more about him than he'd like you to and—

He shook his head.

That wasn't the point. The point was that he had seen enough of you to understand that you weren't heartless, not in the strictest sense, that you did what the mission called for, that he saw you doing what other sorcerers were doing, and Yuji understood that.

It scared him, not because he thought it was cruel, which he had trouble figuring out if it even was, but because he knew that he had been shown over and over how the Jujutsu world worked. How easy it was for the mission to swallow everything else; that maybe, one day, doing the right thing by the rules would mean stepping over someone begging for help.

He wondered if, eventually, he'd have to become like that, too.

Yuji rubbed his chest; a self-soothing technique he only really started to use ever since his grandfather died, ever since he had swallowed Sukuna's finger and there was a presence within his body fighting his cells for power.

He didn't want to get used to death.

Such sentiment, truly. You weep over things already gone, how tedious.

Yuji's jaw tightened, but Sukuna kept going; his voice silken, venomous.

All this morality talk. You still speak of saving everyone, how quaint. How boring. This is not a tale of heroes, boy, it's a reckoning. In time, you'll grow accustomed to it. They all do. And when your bleeding heart betrays you, I shall be there.

He swallowed down the clawing urge to scream. To sleep. To disappear. Then, with a squeeze of his eyes, short, forceful, he re-focused on Nobara grumbling through the water, the faint sloshing echoing through the tunnel, the feeling of cold surrounding his legs and asked, "You think Fushiguro and her are doing okay?"

"They better have more going for them than we do, ugh, my poor shoes. I'm so going to have Gojo buy me a replica. Maybe even two, he knows I hate mouldy tunnels."

Fool.

9th of May; 02:21. — fushiguro megumi.

Megumi refused to be surprised anymore.

It had been Gojo's idea. Of course it had. Who else would think it brilliant to shove two people who could barely tolerate each other into a death trap as a form of 'team building'? He could almost imagine his teacher's laugh — the disgustingly cheerful, insufferable sound that was somehow still able to be genuine in its amusement.

Megumi didn't feel like laughing. He hadn't wanted the assignment to turn out this way. Not with you. Not when he had tried, again and again, to avoid being in your presence more than necessary. But this was necessary, so he clamped down the buzzing feeling crawling on his skin to focus.

When Gojo had given them all the file with the information gathered so far, Megumi had fingered the paper, eyes scanning over the information — sensor readings, half-legible scout notes, maps — only to turn the page and stop. There they were: blurry, cruel pictures staring back at him of the confirmed causalities. Faces frozen mid-expression.

Something had twisted in his chest at the faces, gripped his heart in an iron fist. It wasn't guilt, not exactly. Not yet. But something closer to pressure, sharp and unwelcome in the way it prodded his ribs from within.

"The curse's not consistent. Weren't sorcerers or anything special — locals, mostly," Gojo had said offhandedly, almost flippant. His voice didn't betray anything of what he thought of Megumi's question, "A maintenance worker. Two kids cutting through the underpass to skip school."

Simple facts, lives on paper, reduced to what they weren't.

He had felt the words lodge in his spine. This time, he wasn't going to freeze, wasn't going to falter, to hold back just because something inside him still bucked against the uglier parts of being a sorcerer. This time he couldn't be selective.

He was not going to run away.

Because if he hesitated—

No.

He didn't need to think about what-ifs, because there were going to be none. Because there was going to be no second-guessing, no moral hesitation, no wondering if he had made the right call, no thinking of you—

He bit his tongue.

Megumi's eyes flicked sideways toward you, just slightly, almost involuntarily. His eyebrows furrowed deeply. He hated how your presence was a quiet pulse at the edge of his focus like an itch that he couldn't ignore. He disliked that he didn't know why he found you so unfamiliar, why the air between you both kept feeling like spilled gasoline, invisible and waiting for a spark

You didn't speak, didn't look at him, and yet somehow it felt like you were doing both, like you were aware of everything he thought and felt, like he was being watched, measured, known in a way that he didn't want to understand—

He shifted his gaze forward again.

Not now.

The water was deeper now than when they first entered the north side of the tunnel, cold, heavy, like it wanted to slow him down. Instead of ripples, the water moved steadily with each movement, and he had to hold up the lantern a bit higher so it wouldn't be swallowed up, the dull glow barely pushing the shadows back.

Up ahead —

He squinted.

This was an underpass; there was only one way to go, it should have been a straight line. Yet right in front of him, there were dozens of access tunnels branching in and out, narrow, curling like roots in the dark. The architecture shouldn't be possible, yet…

He paused, and when the lantern was held out to you, you reached for it without a word, hand brushing against his own.

It was only a single moment, the brush of skin only that: a brush, yet it burned.

Tensing, he snapped his hand back, fingers poised and intertwined in each other, ready to summon his Divine Dogs at a moment's notice. The cursed energy coiled tight between his hands and the flash of heat through his chest.

9th of May; 02:38. — kugisaki nobara.

Miserable and damp, Nobara's boots splashed through the water that had no business climbing up her legs, dunking her flesh in the slimy substance she actually wasn't entirely sure was even water to begin with.

"Smells absolutely rancid," she muttered to Yuji, her nose curling, "Almost like—"

"My socks? Jokes on you, I'm not even wearing them," he grinned, bright and dumb as always, but even Nobara could see the sharpness underneath the smile, the vigilant squinting of his eyes against the darkness, "Think it's hiding?"

Obviously, she thought. Not long, and she would completely master Maki-senpai's eye roll.

"Yeah," Nobara scanned the ripples a few metres away, the suspicious feeling in the air intensifying. She was pretty decent at recognising the enemy's game plan, she'd say. She had to if she wanted to survive amongst all the backstabbing people in her old town. If she wanted to navigate through the lying, the lashing out, the manipulation she saw Saori enduring, "The water's deep, so it could be anywhere but..."

When the water stilled again, her muscles tightened, and she raised her hammer slightly. Nobara didn't like that the water was quiet, because quiet meant somebody was thinking, and thinking meant there was a trap ahead.

There were two things Kugisaki Nobara hated: inappropriate use of leopard prints and backhanded manoeuvres.

"…my feeling's telling me that…it's..right…"

A point with her hammer at the minuscule waves, "…there."

"Did you—"

Before Yuji could finish, there was a dark grumble interrupting him, deep and disgusting. A breath later and the curse burst out from beneath the water, twisting like a living shadow, fast, massive and so goddamn ugly. It was big, its head almost reaching the roof of the underpass, a tail smashing against the walls as tendrils, oily and slimy lashed out wildly.

Nobara's waist started to feel cold, and when she dared to catch a look down, there was water surrounding her. It hadn't been so high earlier, she noted, alarmed, "Yuji—"

"Shit—!" Yuji barely dodged the first strike of a tendril, thick as a tree's trunk, the water splashing violently as it crashed beside him. Make that three pairs, Nobara thought, when the oil splattered on her. This wasn't going to get washed out, no matter what, and honestly, she wasn't even sure if she wanted to try and clean it.

Her hammer was fully up in a blink, energy pulsing through her arms like fire, "I'm going to teach this ugly fuck a lesson."

She didn't have to look towards Yuji to find a determined grin on his face, "Count me in."

Yuji darted forward, quick and clean despite the water sloshing at his waist. His fists were already poised and up, eyes locked on the twisted silhouette ahead. Nobara hung back; not out of fear or reluctance, because contrary to popular belief (Megumi and Yuji), she would get dirty to get the job done, but because she'd rather watch the movements of the curse and aid the exorcism through ranged combat. Also, because there was no way in hell that she could be as fast in this water as Yuji.

A tendril cracked through the air, slicing down in a high arc. Her teammate twisted away just in time, water exploding around him as his fist connected with the creature's head. It screeched, high and guttural, the stench of rot rolling over them like a wave. Then it vanished, slipping beneath the surface with a splash.

“Crap,” Yuji muttered, eyes scanning the water. "It’s in the water. We're not gonna catch it like that."

He backed off, mumbling something that might've been a joke. Not that Nobara thought it would've been funny if she had been able to catch it. Her hand was already in motions, pulling nails from her pouch in a fluid sweep. With a flick of her wrist, she launched them: sharp darts of silver, one, two, three, humming with cursed energy.

A muffled shriek followed as the nails found flesh. Oil rose, swirling on the surface, then it burst from below with his ugly sharp teeth, sinews that hung loose and all the rage lunging at her.

"Not today, freak," Nobara snapped.

She held her ground until the last possible second, then side stepped, her hammer swinging upward to catch the curse across the shoulder. It connected with a thunder-like crack, and the curse reeled — right into Yuji's awaiting first. One hit. Two. The third sent it staggering back.

Then came the tail. A blur of muscle, whipping with brutal force.

It slammed into Yuji's gut with a wet, bone-jarring thud. He grunted, forced back a step, his boots skidding through the water, but didn't go down.

Seriously, what were his legs made of? Reinforced concrete?

9th of May; 02:40. — you.

"You heard that?"

Megumi nodded, his eyes fixed on the walls ahead. His entire body had gone taut, every muscle alert, like a blade drawn but not yet swung. A screech had cut through the air, faint and distorted by stone and water, but unmistakably the curse. Which meant either Nobara and Yuji had found the curse or the curse had found them.

There was a low hum of cursed energy in the air, but it was weak. Too weak to confirm the exact source just yet, barely enough to really catch it, but still, not faint enough to ignore. It didn't mean it wasn't dangerous.

The dampness began to creep into your bones, deeper now, soaking through your clothes and sliding icy fingers across your skin. Every slow gust from the tunnel behind felt like a breath on your neck, caressing your spine with a kiss and you suppressed a shiver.

You had chosen the far most right tunnel, because it was the easiest to retrace should anything go wrong. That had been the plan: don't get lost, don't get flanked, stay alert, focus, exorcise the curse.

But as you and Megumi pushed forward, the narrow passage began to widen, the ceiling opening up, revealing more waterlogged space. Holding up the lantern, the light shone faintly, shadows receding slowly.

Then—

A faint, irregular movement.

Just off to the side, slumped against the wall where a mound of debris had collapsed, was a figure. He was half submerged, water up to his shoulders, and trembling violently. His soaked clothes clung to him, ragged, probably weighing him down more. Almost like a ghost, his pale skin shone in the dim light as he shuddered; looking like he was barely tethered to the physical world.

He wasn't dead, though. Not yet.

The old man's face lifted slowly when he heard you, eyes wide, bloodshot, water droplets hanging from his messy beard. His lips parted, cracked and raw. How long had he been down there?

Megumi slowed, and the water shifted with his arm, like he was gripping his weapon, ready to draw, and when you turned slightly, the light of the lantern between you, he glanced at you for a fraction of a second.

There was an unreadable look on his face, like carved from stone, every line harsh, neutral, focused. But you didn't search his face, you searched his eyes underneath the dark hair, underneath the mask he put in place so tightly, and they always betrayed him, flickering with something fierce and momentary. A whirlwind of emotion he swallowed down with a bobbing of his Adam's apple, not clear whether they wanted to soften or harden.

9th of May; 02:52.— itadori yuji.

Another round of nails fired, and Yuji knew that even though the water wasn't clear, he could trust Nobara to do a good job surrounding the curse.

He was already moving when she slammed her hammer down on the final embedded nail, her cursed energy surging in a flash: a chain reaction snapping from point to point. The ground trembled with how fast it spread, and the explosion lit up the creature's side.

A shriek, a buckle from the curse.

A fist, elbow, knee from Yuji.

The rhythm of his strikes was relentless. Each one hammering the curse deeper into disarray, but when he made to surge through the water, raw knuckles ready to deliver another blow—

A splash of water, mud splattering on his face, and some landed on his panting mouth, the taste pungent and dirty. He couldn't keep the grimace from spreading on his face.

The surface calmed instantly, still, eerie in how quiet it became. Too quiet.

"Where the hell—"

"Shit," Yuji wiped his wet face, breathing hard, lungs ragged. His body was coiled like a spring ready to release, tight, "This thing doesn't stay down for long."

But there was only tense silence, the only sound interrupting was the soft splashing of water beneath their feet.

Nobara's eyes scanned the water, "Wait…"

His muscles tensed at her alarmed voice, "What? What is it?"

She didn't answer at first, her eyes shifting back to the water, expression sharpening. Then, with sudden certainty: "It's not coming back up. It's gone, not just hiding, gone."

Before he could respond, there was a low, echoing splash resounding in the distance. It sounded deep and wrong, and a tremor rippled through the water, legs vibrating, concrete humming underneath their wet boots.

Yuji's head snapped toward the noise. "North entrance. Megumi."

He was already running, water flying with each step. The air felt thicker, charged with the sense of urgency. The pounding of his heart kept time with the splashing of his feet.

He was not going to leave you both to your own devices, not if he could help it, not if he could still breathe, not if he still had blood pumping through his body.

Run, brat. Let's see how far those legs get you.

Yuji didn't flinch. He just pushed through the water harder.

9th of May; 02:53. — you.

One of Megumi's shadow beasts barked. Sharp, low, a warning cry that cut through the heavy silence.

Megumi's attention snapped to the darkness ahead. his stance shifted, spine straightening, sword already angled forward. the tension in his frame was immediate, palpable, his expression hard.

The old man behind them coughed out a garbled string of words, stuttering, his voice raspy and dry, like it hadn't been used in ages. But whatever he was trying to say drowned beneath the sudden shift in the air, heavy, suffocating, thick with cursed energy.

The ground trembled underfoot, a chilling surge of cursed energy spreading across the water.

"Get back," Megumi commanded, low and clear.

Then it came.

Emerging from the depths was a hulking mass of shadow and writhing limbs that twisted the laws of motion. The curse moved like a fluid wrapped in wrinkly skin, oozing cursed energy with each movement; its eyes were pits of malice, gleaming in the lantern light with unnatural hunger. The nasty smell rolled over you like poisonous gas, subtle, clogging your nose.

Megumi's dog lunged forward with a snarl, water splashing around its paws, saliva dripping from his bared canines.

You raised your weapon, but the sudden influx of oil made your grip slip — just for a second. It was enough to remind you how bad it could go. You hadn't expected it to be a walk in the park, of course, but you had hoped it would be at least a bit simpler. This though? This was difficult.

Then it roared. It was a low, bone deep sound that shook your chest, vibrated through the water and clung to your legs. And before you could blink —

It was fast. Faster than expected. Faster than you could dodge.

You registered the impact on your ribs from the tendril lashing out, before you skidded back from the force. Pain bloomed on your skin, a deep ache, and you thought you couldn't get any air even when you breathed. Gasping, you spluttered out water from where you fell back, face momentarily dunked in the liquid, "Fushiguro!"

There was another swipe of a tendril, and it dragged over the entire terrain, coming at you with shocking speed. Ducking under the water again just in time, you felt it catch some of your hair. Your lungs complaining, screaming for air when you couldn't get your diaphragm back into its rhythm from the strike before, you broke the surface again, in time to see the tendril catch the old man full in the chest. He wailed once, a broken, high sound, before the curse yanked him across the tunnel like he weighed nothing, like he was a rag doll to be thrown around.

You grunted, voice raw from the salt water as you moved forward, intent on cutting down the curse, but even as you charged, a shadowy tentacle shot from the creature's body, aiming directly for you, snapping through the air —

It never hit.

Megumi's blade was fast, cutting through the curse's arm mid-strike, slicing the shadowed limb clean in two. Black ichor splattered on the water, sizzling where it landed.

The curse shrieked, and in that brief moment of distraction, it let go of the man, retreating back into the shadows of the water once again, moving like liquid, too fast to keep up with.

The old man struggled to stay afloat, finding a log of discarded metal, rusted and probably carrying all the bacteria for the wound on the guy's forehead. Yet, he still clung to it with all his might, body trembling in fear, eyes wide in terror. You were sure he was only awake because adrenaline coursed through his veins like a drug, with primal fear at something he couldn't comprehend.

Megumi’s gaze didn’t waver from where it tried to track the curse; he stared at the water, sword angled low, a predator stillness to him. And for a moment, in the gleam of his eye, there was something unspoken.

Like a warning, like a challenge, like a promise.

9th of May; 02:56. — itadori yuji.

"It was already halfway gone before you punched it, Yuji, how about using your brain sometime to grab it or something."

"How am I supposed to see it coming? It's like swimming with a torpedo. A creepy, soggy torpedo."

"Whatever. When we're done, you're gonna carry me to the car. I'm way too tired."

"Do I even get a say?"

"No."

9th of May; 03:01. — fushiguro megumi.

The water exploded.

A monstrous surge of tendrils shot from the depths, writhing toward them with horrifying speed. There was nothing human in the way it moved — its limbs contorted as they stretched unnaturally. It was too long, too thin, but Megumi didn't flinch. It was not too difficult to kill.

There were jagged shapes protruding from some of the tendrils, and its movements blurred at the edges: frantic, fast, making it hard to follow with the naked eye. But he didn't need to. His shikigami tracked cursed energy like breath in the dark, flaring with each incoming strike. It always alerted him when the cursed energy levels changed, so he could trust his shadows, but you—

Megumi clicked his tongue.

You were already moving towards the curse, cursed tool in hand, dark energy radiating off it where you had imbued the blade. Despite having been flung through the air, your movements were still swift, graceful, but god, you had no patience. He swallowed down the bite rising in his throat, the urge to tell you to wait so that you could coordinate, to strike smarter.

The curse recoiled at your blow, but it wasn't retreating yet, just gathering momentum.

The water churned violently around its body, as though the curse itself was dragging the entire underpass toward it. Its mouth opened wide, teeth flashing as it lunged forward, but Megumi, who anticipated it — seeing as how he seemed to be the only one who tried to hatch out a game plan — was quicker once more.

His eyes narrowed and with a practised signal of his hands, his Great Serpent moved through the water like it was his second home, converging on the curse, coiling around its limbs and biting down hard. The curse snarled and writhed under the pressure, just enough to expose a weakness, enough to give you an opening.

"Now!" he pressed between gritted teeth, his voice carrying the urgency, snapping.

You both moved; your blade arced towards the curse's core, and Megumi stepped in to flank, but the curse twisted, unnaturally pliable. With a sudden, sickening twist, it tore itself free from Great Serpent's jaw, spraying deep purple blood across the concreted walls. The thing's body seemed to fold in on itself, reshaping as if wanting to escape the grasp of Megumi.

"Dammit!"

He didn't stop. Couldn't stop, pushing forward, determined to keep it boxed in, to keep it in check, to not allow it any time to recover, but the curse was relentless. It was like fighting an ocean of flesh, always shifting, always evading.

Your eyes never left the curse either as you tried to slash with your blade again, aiming for what seemed to be its neck, but the curse writhed, dodging; its inhuman agility almost more terrifying than its strength.

"Great Ser—"

Pain.

A sharp, burning stab to his side.

Megumi exhaled harshly, stumbling back a half-step. One of the curse's long, jagged limbs had found its mark, cutting deep. For a moment, his focus wavered. Blood dripped into the water, mixing into the water easily. Refusing to flinch, his hand instinctively clutched the wound, warmth spilling between his fingers. He couldn't drop his sword, he wouldn't— burning, it burned, right in his side. It burned.

"Megumi!"

Your voice broke through his haze, and he shook his head, once, hard, eyes squeezed together to rid himself of the feeling of pain, forcing it back, forcing focus. He snapped back to attention just in time to see the curse pivot and reach for him again.

Your cursed blade cut through the air, movements clean and fluid, synchronised with his own as if you had fought together for years, not just a couple months. Megumi's chest squeezed painfully as it hit him: not the pain, not the fight, but the weight in his chest, the strange sense of familiarity settling inside the cavity despite the tension.

"This thing is relentless," he groaned, voice tight with concentration, one hand coming up to wipe the blood daring to trickle down to his eye.

You nodded, readying yourself, but just as you were about to, the curse twisted violently, its body flailing in a desperate attempt to escape. Its tail lashed out as it caught the old man with brutal force, flinging him into deep the deep, murky water with a loud splash.

Megumi's shikigami was quick to snap back onto the curse, pinning it. It screamed, thrashed, and for a brief, fleeting moment, it was momentarily incapacitated, vulnerable.

They could end it. Now.

But the homeless man did not resurface.

And the curse was vulnerable enough to finish off.

His heart thudded once, hard and painful. Something tugged in his chest, tugged in his head. He had the chance to save the man, but—

No running, no hesitating. He felt it again: the pull. The he weight of his role pressing down on him, his duty to destroy curses, pulled at him with an iron grip. He couldn't flinch, he was a sorcerer, a weapon, that was what he was. And yet—

Before he registered what he was doing, his head had already whipped out to you and he met your eyes.

He didn't mean to look for you. He didn't know why he did, he didn't even want to. But here you were, already looking at him, meeting his gaze head on. There was no judgement in your eyes, not yet, but something else.

He hated that you were already looking at him. Hated that he felt like that was a test, hated the part of himself that didn't know which answer was right, hated that he felt observed, naked.

His jaw clenched, "Rush the curse," just as your voice sounded out: "We have time to go save him!"

9th of May; 03:05. — hasegawa masato.

The world around him was a blur of cold water and shadows. His heart, as weak as it was, hammered in his chest as endless dark loomed over him.

Masato's body was numb, though whether it was from fear or the icy water that soaked him to the bone, he didn't know. Terror clawed at his throat, tugged at his clothes, held his head in a vice grip.

He had been close to death before. Sickness when he couldn't afford medication was a vicious thing, hunger when he hadn't had anything to eat in weeks even worse. Sometimes, when a group of people, drunk, came by, they liked to make him dance for some money. Sometimes he would. If it meant he'd get some food, he sometimes swallowed his pride and went ahead with it.

But this? He had never been close to death like this.

That creature was unlike anything he had ever seen before. Grotesque, weird, unreal. Masato couldn't believe it was real, not when it looked like the stuff from nightmares, not when he thought he was going to piss himself.

When it had swung him around, he was paralysed under the weight of the monster's presence. The air thick with fear, the water having pushed him away from the safety of clinging to the metal piece; the scent of decay heavy on his tongue, his rasping breath barely able to satisfy his brain with enough oxygen.

Overwhelming helplessness consumed him as his limbs struggled against the water. They were like lead, the fear creeping deeper with every second. Oh god, he was going to die here, in this filthy underpass, alone. He was going to die alone with nowhere to run, no breath to take.

Was this how it was going to end? Was Masato going to die without having seen his daughter again? Without being able to tell her how sorry he was? That he wished he could hold her again, the way she was as a baby, a tiny thing that barely reached the entirety palm of his hand.

Masato had hoisted her up against his naked skin, her tiny little face nuzzled against his flesh, seeking his warmth. Then he had cried, mourning the lifeless body of his wife on the bed next to them, her legs spread and bloody, and his tears had caressed his daughter's skin.

Oh, how he wished he could tell her sorry, that he wished he could have given her a better life, that he didn't have to succumb to the deep abyss of all the feelings he didn't know what to do with after the loss of the light of his life.

He might have cried had his chest not been in so much panic that he kept trying to take a breath. It was a sheer miracle that he didn't, that he knew to press his hand against his mouth, trying to keep the precious little air he had left within his lungs.

Then—

Sharp pain at the back of his head. Everything blurred; his sight darkening slowly, warmth.

I'm sorry, Himari-chan.

9th of May; 03:07. — kugisaki nobara.

A faint bark sounded out, echoing through the tunnel.

"Dog's out, oh, what a good boy."

"He's so gonna get all the beef jerky he wants."

9th of May; 03:06. — you.

Your lungs burned, the world around you a blur of shadows and waves. The sounds of the curse seemed so far away, like there was cotton in your ear.

There. Just…a little…bit more.

Cold, slimy, your fingers slipped off the material once, twice, then, you gripped it harder. Tugged. Found it good enough, and then pulled as you struggled to haul the old man toward safety.

9th of May; 03:09. — itadori yuji.

Water sprayed as Itadori Yuji and Kugisaki Nobara exploded into the fray, his arrival marked by the sound of his footfalls pounding through a receding flood and the snarl of a curse that sensed another sorcerer enter the fight.

Megumi was already soaked, blood running down one arm in slow, steady rivulets, his expression eerily calm as it was grim — tight-lipped, pale, unshaken, angry. Shadows coiled at his feet, the water lapping up the blood oozing from Megumi like it was thankful for the meal.

The creature towered ahead, slick with oil and reared its grotesque head toward Yuji as he skidded to a stop beside his teammate.

"Took you long enough," Megumi said flatly, not sparing him a glance.

Yuji flashed a breathless grin, panting, "You look like shit."

"Then focus and stop wasting time."

Yuji's heart thumped in his ears, pounding like war drums, gaze trained on the curse and the way it twisted, the way it lunged forward, a mess of teeth and water, the movement causing a wave to crash against the tunnel walls. Without hesitation, Yuji ducked low under the strike, pivoted, his fist cocked back and ready to go.

He landed the first hit; clean and solid, pissed off, because fuck, Megumi was hurt and you were nowhere to be seen. A snap as the force rattled the curse's jaw back, howling in response.

Yuji ducked under the swing of a tentacle, and faintly, he heard a deep inhale, a pressured tension in Megumi's voice: "Max Elephant."

Water erupted as the enormous shikigami materialised, crashing down with enough weight onto the curse to shake the tunnel, its trunk hammering down like a wrecking ball, forcing the curse to rear back and expose its side for half a heartbeat.

Yuji darted around the curse, "Now!"

Nails flying through the air, hitting their mark from where Nobara stood at the head of the tunnel.

Megumi didn't hesitate either. With one swift motion, he snapped his hands together and called forth his Divine Dogs again, and they burst forward with fangs bared, eyes gleaming, latching onto the curse with force, ripping it apart. It shrieked and thrashed, momentarily locked in place as Yuji came from the other side, launching upward with an uppercut laced with cursed energy, coiled around his fist like a storm.

A rattling cry, a shriek then—

Purple, oily blood and cursed energy splashed outward like a shock wave and dissolved into vapour almost immediately. The pressure collapsed inward with a sickening pop, the oppressive air in the tunnel lifting like a vacuum sealed bag that gasped for breath.

And silence fell.

Max Elephant vanished with a spray of mist, and the Divine Dogs flickered out of existence, too, their shadows melting into the water. In the sudden stillness, the tunnel felt eerily quiet; water lapping gently against Yuji's legs like nothing had happened at all.

He staggered back, soaked, gasping. "Dude," he panted. "I'm done. I don't know what the hell that thing was but I'm calling it. No more sewer monsters. Ever."

No answer.

Yuji looked up and something in his blood sung, telling him to freeze. The water couldn't possibly become colder, except it did. There was a darkening to Megumi's face, something carved sharp. The kind of scary quiet that came before something snapped. His face was drained of colour, his gaze fixed somewhere past Yuji, unreadable, but his whole body was tense, a string pulled too tight.

For a heartbeat, yuji could swear he wasn't looking at a friend, which was stupid, because Megumi had always been Megumi, always good, old, reliable Megumi. Except that Megumi looked like he was two seconds away from turning into something else.

Yuji winced and tried to change the topic, "Soo…where's—"

Nevermind. He was not going to ask, not when Megumi looked at him then, and all the quiet, buried fury suddenly directed right on Yuji. He didn't wait for an answer, because behind him — a sharp splutter, a frantic gasp for air. He whirled around before his brain caught up, legs already moving toward the sound.

That expression — looks just how I like it.

9th of May; 03:11. — you.

Yuji was there in an instant.

He dropped to a crouch beside you, hands already curling underneath the old man's armpits to pull him up. His hair was ruffled like he had been going through it, and the look in his eyes was worried. Worried beyond just about the civilian man in your arms, worried like there was more weighing on him.

"Got him?" he asked, his otherwise cheerful voice tight.

"He's breathing. Took a hit to the head, though, so might have a concussion."

He nodded and gently pulled the man the rest of the way out of the water. Now that the curse was gone, the water was slowly receding, revealing more and more of the underpass, and becoming less and less like a maze.

You exhaled, warm air escaping you, blown out into the cold.

The skin of your neck prickled like the edge of a blade was pressed against your flesh — it wasn't the kind of shiver that came from cold water trickling down your wet hair. It was something tighter, and you didn't need to turn around to know who was staring.

Megumi, of course. It was always him when the silence felt like judgement.

The weight of his gaze sat between your shoulder blades like a hand pressed flat against your spine. He wasn't just looking; he was blaming.

So much for keeping low key, for staying professional, getting the job done and walking away. You could feel the air heat up, funnily enough, a kettle that was boiling and ready to whistle.

You refused to look at him, because if you did, you'd explode. Because if you looked at him and he dared to look upset with you, you were going to snap. If there was even a flicker of annoyance, of those stupid eyebrows drawing together and that stupid grimace on his mouth, you were going to kill him.

"Don't you look at me like that."

Megumi's steps were slow, deliberate, his boots sloshing through shin-deep water as he closed the space between you.

"Like what," his voice was low, rough, weird. Too calm.

He came to a stop just beside you, his chest brushing your shoulder, close enough that the warmth of his body clashed with the dampness of your clothes still seeping into your skin. Yet still, you refused to look, even though he was invading your space on purpose, even though you could see his hands balled into fists so tightly that the knuckles had gone bone-white, one still slicked in drying blood.

You spat, "What in the hell is wrong with you?"

The nail of his thumb dug into his pointer, "Me? What about you? You abandoned shit again right when I thought you knew what the hell you were doing."

You knew what you said.

That you wouldn't look at him. That you refused to give him the satisfaction of trying to stare you down. But well, the day was long and you talked a lot, and he pissed you off. You couldn't help it. You really couldn't, because Megumi had the nerve, because he never stopped.

You whirled around so fast that water flared up around your leg, arm raised and finger jabbing straight at his face, "Oh no, we're not going to start this again, Fushiguro," with the same nasty look on your face mirroring his. He didn't flinch. if anything, he stepped even closer, jaw tightening, ground teeth against teeth and his hand, long bloodied, trembling fingers, came to grip your wrist. Not enough to hurt, but enough for your senses to sharpen and hone on the contact of skin.

"This," his eyes were a dark blue carved out of the same murky water around you, "is what you wanted."

You barked out a laugh, mouth twisted in disbelief. "You think anything's changed? I thought your whole thing was not letting people die. But you — what? Tossed that out just like that? I mean, good on you, honestly. Growth or whatever, little Megumi finally growing balls, but you okay with that now?"

Megumi's anger was subtle, but it was laid out for you like a book to read. You looked at his jaw, cut sharply, and the way it tightened, skin drawn taut. His teeth were bared at your insult, a muscle in his cheek twitching as a droplet of water ran down the curve of his cheekbone.

He was angry at you, and even though you wanted him to be because it meant he let loose of that stupid mask he still kept up, it fired you up just as much. Because in the midst of his dark eyes narrowing, a wild storm in them, you thought that anger looked good on him, that you much preferred this to the silence and the ignorance the past weeks.

There was something bitter on your tongue and you let it sit there like ash when you looked at the way his wet hair hung down his forehead, the blood that was still running down the side of his face, circumventing his eye with a flick of his fingers, "I mean, if you're cool abandoning your values, fine. Be my guest. I just thought you'd learned from last time."

That got him.

Megumi's face shuttered, eyes dimming like a switch had been flipped, the storm cooling to heavy rain. His grip on your wrist didn't loosen; if anything, it became a tad tighter.

"Yeah?" he said, low, voice like ice, "Just like how you flipped on me now?"

"Excuse me?" you jerked your arm free, stepped forward so your chest bumped his, the air between you both hot despite the dampness, "I did what needed to be done. We had an actual opening, Fushiguro. You would've jumped on that weeks ago, now you're suddenly swinging from one extreme to the other?"

Megumi scoffed; a bitter, humourless sound that barely passed for amusement. His jaw flexed as he turned away slightly, and you noticed his other hand curling tightly at his side, "Don't try to sell me that bullshit."

You didn't back down, and this time when he focused his attention on you, his voice dipped lower, register dark and tight, the kind of controlled anger that came from being pushed too far too long, "Funny how 'what needed to be done' always ends up being what you decide. I'm starting to think you don't care about what the rules say, either."

"Yeah?" you snapped, "You got a problem with that?"

Fuck.

You could punish yourself for the way that slipped from your mouth. Because it sounded like an admission, because you knew that he wasn't entirely wrong, either. You always thought yourself to be a pride-less person, hell, you typically were, but not with this look in Megumi's eyes, one that's deeply rooted in proving you wrong.

And you might have chosen the wrong thing to say, but you would fight tooth and nail to prove to him that it didn't immediately absolve him, either.

His hand trembled, barely held back. In the back, you heard Yuji mumble something, but Nobara's voice cut through his, and he fell silent. For a second, you wondered what he said, why Nobara pulled him back when it was so very clear that he wanted to intervene.

Though, truth be told, you didn't know if you wanted him to.

"You judge me for going off-course. For ignoring your precious protocol, now you do the same exact thing and suddenly it's fine. Tell me, why is it okay when you cross the line?"

"It's not the same—"

"Like hell it's not."

Did he not see? Did he not see that whilst his snake was holding the curse, you both actually had a tangible moment of saving somebody who was drowning right in front of you? Was he so focused on suddenly pretending he cared about the regulations now that he threw his entire morals away again?

His eyes burned with something wild. Not rage exactly, maybe disbelief, maybe betrayal somewhere, "That's what you said about me, wasn't it? Not to let my emotions cloud my judgement. So what — now it's different? Because you felt like saving someone?"

Your heart was pounding and your throat scratchy as you memorised his face in your mind, the harsh lines, the curve of his nose, his wet hair, the hard press of his lips. Almost, you wished that Kyoto had told you to kill him, maybe then you'd stop feeling like there was a fire within you that you couldn't put out.

"So why didn't you?" you narrowed your eyes, because you couldn't kill him, after all, because even if you did have that order, you didn't know if you would, "You could've summoned your toad, couldn't you? I know you've got that shikigami. You're perfectly capable of calling out two of those shadows, so what the hell stopped you?"

He inhaled sharply through his nose, and his voice sounded like each word was an effort to not raise his voice, thick with feelings, and it made you go crazy, "You think I didn't consider that? You think I wasn't aware of every option, every second, every goddamn breath we had left while trying to hold that curse in place?"

"Then why didn't you do it?"

"Because I was holding the line," he hissed and his nose brushed yours, "Because you ran off without a plan, because you ignored what I said, again, and I had two choices: drop the curse and go save that man's life or hold it and save all of us, hoping that your pea-brain was going to handle the other side."

"Don't you put this on me—"

"I will put this on you," his breath was heavy and you felt it caress your mouth and your chest tightened, "Because you walk around like you've got it all figured out, preaching about this and that. So quick to tell me I'm wrong for my decisions, but here you are, doing the same damn thing I did."

You stared at him with your chest heaving, repressed shivers making you tremble, betraying you. Because he wasn't wrong and you hated that. Hated how easily he cut through you when it came from him.

"Stop acting like you're above it," Megumi said, quiet now, bitter. Raw in a way he rarely let out. "You're not. And neither am I."

Your pulse was loud in your ears, loud, fast. You couldn't bring yourself to speak — too much crowding your throat.

He watched you for one long moment, then looked away, the tension in his shoulders rigid as he turned and walked off slowly, his hand pressing down on his side.

9th of May; 03:31. — iwata.

Iwata wondered if he would ever get relieved of his duty to chauffeur the kids around. Not that he necessarily minded the act itself; on the contrary, he quite enjoyed the thought that in some way, he was able to contribute to bettering society, of ridding the world from curses.

It was just that whenever he drove the kids anywhere, they came back looking a little more like soldiers, hardened and soiled, and a little less like teenagers.

That part, Iwata hated the most.

He watched them now from the driver's seat, engine idling quietly as rain pattered on the windshield, mixing with the muddy streaks from the tunnel water still clinging to their clothes. The smell of rotten water, blood and burnt cursed energy hit him the second they climbed into the car.

Iwata pretended to be busy, but his eyes searched them for any signs that they lost a little bit of themselves out there.

The pink-haired student, Itadori Yuji, climbed in first, breathing a little hard, wearing the same tired grin he always did — like if he smiled hard enough, none of the bad things would stick, like they would just ricochet off him. He flopped into the far seat and winced, arms limply sprawled across his knees as if it was too much effort to lift them.

Right behind him was Nobara; she looked like she still had some fire left in her, though it was only a glimmer. She muttered a string of curses under her breath, most of them aimed at the curse they had just fought — or maybe the mud in her boots, it wasn't clear to Iwata.

"Whoever sends us into another one of those tunnels," she sighed as she relaxed against the seat, "will have me hexing their entire bloodline."

"That a threat?" Yuji yawned.

"No. A promise."

Iwata didn't comment. Instead, the door in the back opened and Megumi followed in silence, a hand pressed to his side. The blood had mostly clotted, his jacket crumbled up to apply pressure against it, but Iwata saw the way he walked, the stiffness in his joints, the pain he tried to hide. Iwata couldn't do a lot, not until they got back to the school and to Shoko Ieiri. He slid back, elbows on his thighs, eyes locked on the floor like it might answer for something.

Lastly, there was the exchange student, the one he barely knew. Not that he knew the others that well either, but this one was even more of a puzzle to him. So he couldn't read your face, only saw the way it was set in granite, lines hard. You shivered slightly though you hid it well, instead looking out the window, hands clenched in your lap.

Iwata eased the car into drive, pulling away from the tunnel entrance. He had called an ambulance for the old man the kids were carrying out, already having given the first aid that he could. Silence settled over the kids, save for the soft purr of the engine and the patter of the rain.

He caught glances of them in the rear view mirror — Megumi stubbornly clenching and relaxing his hands, your eyelids slowly closing, Nobara picking at dried blood under her nails, Yuji fiddling with a broken zipper on his jacket.

God, they were just kids.

They shouldn't have been worrying about life and death, not making choices that adults twice their age couldn't shoulder without cracking. Should have instead been having fun out there, enjoying their youth, enjoying making memories all kids their age do.

He exhaled quietly, one hand tightening on the steering wheel. He didn't say anything. He never did. But he reached forward and flipped a switch on the car's dashboard to heat the seats for them.

Yuji leaned back a little more, Nobara let out a tired hum of approval, Megumi let his head fall back against the seat finally, his eyes closing and your shoulders loosened slightly.

It wasn't much. But it was something.

11th of May; 07:29. — kugisaki nobara.

"You think they're going to come out of this alive?"

"God, I hope not."

11th of April; 07:30. — gojo satoru.

"Well!" Gojo Satoru announced cheerfully, "Who needs actual curses when the real horror is whatever this — " he waved a hand in the direction of his two students, " — unresolved..bit…thing…is supposed to be. Hm. That sentence got away from me."

Neither Megumi nor you looked at him, and Gojo didn't need them to. He understood their silence perfectly well, after all. One could call him the whisperer of anguished teenagers, if one will. Not that anybody would, but he thought there was a high chance it could be true.

He sighed loudly, exaggerated. "Y'know, I didn't set this training camp up because I love early mornings or physical labour. I set it up because I actually care."

Still no answer. His lips twisted slightly, and he clapped his hands once, loud enough to echo through the wooden beams of the dojo they were occupying, the two kids sitting in front of him on the ground. Megumi stared down at the floor, his posture rigid. Next to him, you had your arms crossed, staring right past Gojo's shoulder at the wall.

"Alright, group meeting, just us three. Megumi, dear exchange student, and your incredibly good-looking, well-adjusted teacher."

That got your eye twitching, at least. Megumi's jaw flexed like he was grinding down a curse by tooth alone. Not quite efficient, but at the very least, he had them react to something. Sigh. Kids were so difficult these days.

"You two are good sorcerers. Really, of course still lots to learn, but good. Smart even, shockingly so actually, considering the choices you've both been making lately."

Megumi exhaled slowly. "We're getting the job done."

"Are you? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you are one outburst away from killing each other."

Then his voice dropped, just enough to remind his students that they were his students after all, "You can hate each other all you want once the job's done. But while you're out there? You work together. You trust each other. Or I pull you both off the field. Permanently."

That definitely got some reactions.

Megumi's head whipped up, a disbelieving, annoyed look on his face, the one Gojo loved to see, and you narrowed your eyes in response, "You can't be serious."

Ah, the poor exchange student by day, spy by night. How interesting it was to watch you scuttle under his attention, knowing the implications his words had on your situation. When he caught you in the restricted section, he had toyed with the idea of sending Kyoto a memento about what he really thought about having a child sicced on him by the higher-ups. A reminder that consisted more of a body part than it did of anything verbal, but he wasn't cruel enough to succumb an innocent person to that kind of torture.

Though, of course, he did think it would have been a good shock for them. And really, what would they have done? What could they accuse him for that he couldn't point right at them?

After all, they had started it.

"Oh, I'm so serious," he sang, the smile still there, but it didn't quite reach his eyes anymore, "This is your mission now: finish this training camp. Together. No sulking. No bickering. Just work. And progress, of course. I know, it's boring. Tough luck."

He stepped forward, clapping a hand on each of their shoulders, his slender fingers pressing in ever so slightly with something akin to encouragement, "So! You've got two choices: succeed…or succeed. Because that's all I'm offering."

Megumi glared at him viciously, like he thought maybe he shouldn't have come under Gojo's patronage. He thought he might have deserved it— nah, who was he kidding.

"Breakfast's in an hour, and if either of you come late, I'm making you sit next to each other and hold hands."

The look of disgust mirrored on both of your faces had him try to suppress a giggle. Oh, he should have done that earlier.

AUTHOR'S NOTE | thank you for reading!!

TAGLIST | @binkibuns @1l-ynn @nscuit @julieannah (tagged you guys because you seemed excited about the first part so i hope i'm not disturbing you with it!!)

[cerusee]

I've never watched any Chinese dramas but I really enjoy your posts/gifs about them and it's got me interested in trying some! Do you have any recommendations for somebody who's totally new to them? Any tropes/background context I should be aware of? The historical/fantastical ones seem the most appealing to me.

Oooooh! My first thought on reading this ask was, “oh, I’m hardly qualified”; I’m only on my *stops to count on fingers* eighth cdrama, not counting the one episode I watched of the Wang Zhuocheng xianxia where he falls in love with a rock. (Long story.) There’s a lot of cdramas out there, and I myself have not even scratched the surface of what’s out there! That said, if you’re interested in historical/fantastical dramas, those ARE the ones I’ve been watching, so I still have some opinions despite being a total noob myself.

Do not start with The Untamed/Chen Qing Ling. Twas my first cdrama, like a lot of western fans, who were drawn to it in part because of the big censored-but-still-very-evident gay love story between the male leads, but honestly, as much fun as it is for the slash fans, it’s not a great jumping off point for either Chinese television in general, or even for its own wuxia-inspired genre setting. I say this as some who is still deep in the fandom four years later, and has immense love for the show: the first two episodes are flat-out bad, the overall pacing is bad (episodes frequently stop MIDSCENE), the worldbuilding is thin (a carryover from the novel it was based on), and without a larger context for why it’s made the way it’s made (stylistic choices, industry conventions, government censorship, genre conventions) a lot about it is confusing as hell to cdrama newbies, which is…so evident…a lot…in fandom wank I mean in the discourse about what story this story is trying to tell. Like, if you came to me and asked specifically, “I’m thinking of watching CQL. Should I watch CQL?” I would say yes, absolutely! It’s so much fun! I’m obsessed with the characters! I’ve written a lot of fanfic about the purple guy! But it’s not a good first cdrama, nor it is the best example of what the Chinese TV industry has to offer.

A MUCH better first cdrama especially if you like the historical/fantastical: The Legend of the Condor Heroes (2017), which not coincidentally was my second cdrama. It’s one of about a dozen television adaptations of the classic 1957 Chinese novel of the same name by Jin Yong, generally considered to be the inventor of the genre known as wuxia, which is a blend of history, fantasy, and martial arts. (One of the most well-known examples of wuxia in the west is Ang Lee’s Oscar-winning 2000 film Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, which you have probably at least heard of.)

Legend of the Condor Heroes (hereafter known as LOCH) has it all: romance, revenge, evil plots and daring deeds, people jumping off a burning mountain and being rescued by the worst CGIed eagles known to television or cinema, boat adventures, mountain adventures, grasslands adventures, a weird cult leader who lives on a spooky flower island (there will be math), murder, baby kidnapping, more murder, one guy inadvertently racking up a ridiculous number of martial arts teachers, sworn brotherhoods which invariably end with one guy stabbing the other, lots of VERY good martial arts fights, and, of course, Genghis Khan. Technically there are no magic/supernatural elements in this show—no ghosts, ghouls, magic, angels, devils, gods, etc—although the martial artists do have l33t skillz that might qualify as superhuman depending on how you slice your genre conventions, and are awfully fun to watch.

I’ve actually seen two LOCH adaptations (there was one in 2024 I liked a lot, with my favorite Guo Jing so far), but 2017 is a much better adaptation for newcomers as it tells a fuller version of the story and doesn’t skimp on or rush through or rewrite as many elements of the plot as other versions do; it’s meant to be a LOCH for people who haven’t seen half a dozen versions of LOCH already. It has a WONDERFUL cast, including my one of my favorite cdrama leading men, Chen Xingxu,* as the lead antagonist, Yang Kang, who is a trash fire of a person you just can’t root for, but he also can’t help it because he was raised by Wanyin Honglie. You can catch it on YouTube (I recall that there are couple of missing episodes from that playlist, but you can search on YT for those when you get there, to find them subtitled from other channels.)

*If you, like me, come away from LOCH 2017 with your mouth slightly ajar at how great CXX is, I have wonderful news for you! He’s been a lead in at least two other very good cdramas: the 2023 xianxia** The Starry Love, where he gets to play, like, five different characters (huge acting flex, and he’s great, although I would rush to stress I loved a ton of things about this show besides CXX himself), and the 2019 semi-historical drama Goodbye My Princess, which might actually be my favorite cdrama I have seen to date, and arguably THEE best well-made on a technical level, with phenomenal acting, a great script, and editing and directing I am constantly swooning over, but I am not entirely sure I can recommend to you unless you are a Tragedy Enjoyer.

(If you are a Tragedy Enjoyer, please stop whatever you’re doing and just start watching Goodbye My Princess right now, it is phenomenal. It is also available on YouTube. Watch the Director’s Cut, not the regular one! This is important. In its haste to get the main leads on screen together ASAP, the regular version does a Reader’s Digest version of stuff the Director’s Cut spends like five episodes carefully setting up, and it doesn’t make a lot of sense, nor does it flow well.)

**Speaking of xianxia! Xianxia is the high fantasy genre, full of magic and gods and demons and people dying and living multiple lives and whatnot. Important to note: xianxias are soap operas (complimentary). They tend to feature female protagonists, sweeping, epic romances, and put enormous emphasis on exploring the nuances of relationships and emotions. I have watched three that I loved (Love Between Fairy and Devil, The Starry Love, and Eternal Love: Ten Miles of Peach Blossoms), and while technically I could recommend all three, if you were going to watch just one, especially as a cdrama intro, I have to recommend Eternal Love, which really is the quintessential xianxia, the one all other xianxias are kind of shaping themselves around. I have watched it 1.5 times and I can say that it does not properly take off until like, episode 10, or whenever it is that the main couple finally, properly meet. IT IS WORTH THE INVESTMENT. This show made me want to spit blood. I cried multiple times watching it. It made me feel things. It has a wonderful immersive quality that’s hard to describe except to say that the entire show sort of vibrates on its own frequency. The casting is just kind of…perfect? Props to Maggie Huang for portraying the most perfectly hatable xianxia villainess of all time. Absolutely no one is doing it like Su Jin. No one should try. I believe this is available on YouTube, but after an abortive start, I realized it was on US Netflix, and watched it there.

As for tropes and background context: ehhhhhh. I mean, it’s an entire industry? I know substantially less about how it functions than I do about, like, American TV and film. I know government censorship is a not-inconsiderable factor, but I don’t know much of the nuance of how that plays out in terms of filming and airing. Tropes will vary according to subject. Idol dramas (shows built to showcase media personalities regardless of their ability to act) are a thing. Most cdrama audio is still dubbed (this one surprised me!), usually by professional voice actors and not by the original cast, for a confluence of reasons, some of which historically make sense (noisy filming lots rendering original audio useless), and some of which are really stupid (fans throwing hissy fits if lead actors don’t have the “right” kinds of voices for their characters).

Anyway! My recommendations are this: try The Legend of the Condor Heroes (2017) to start with, UNLESS you would prefer having your heart ripped out of your chest, in which case watch Goodbye My Princess (Director’s Cut, 2019), or UNLESS you love soap operas as much as I do, in which case watch Eternal Love: Ten Miles of Peach Blossoms (2017). All three are great shows, but they all hit differently/scratch a different itch.

Oh! Lastly! @dangermousie is a great source of cdrama recs. I should note she prefers dramas and tragedies and mostly does not vibe with xianxias. But she watches like eight million hours of dramas a week and reports her findings to us because she is a river to her people.

[obsidian-pages777]

Your Love Forecast: What’s Coming Next? 💖✨

Top Row= Pile 1->Pile 2, Bottom Row Pile 3->Pile 4

Introduction

This is a simple Tarot Pick a Pile reading. You will be given the relevant gem stones which would help you enhance your love energy at the end of this sweet reading for each of your picks. Stay Mystical!!!

💌 Craving more insights on love, life, Gemological Healing and beyond? Join my email list for exclusive tarot readings, astrology tips, and updates on my latest offerings delivered straight to your inbox!

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Pile 1:

Card Pick: The Lovers

Your love life is blooming with tender affection. A meaningful connection is on its way, whether with someone new or deepening bonds with a current partner. Open your heart to receive the love you truly deserve. You are going to commit to somebody completely and you will receive that commitment from your partner as well. There is a choice involved in terms of where your future love life is headed. Make a clear minded decision when making these commitments. All will be well. 🌸

💎 Gem Recommendation: Blue Sapphire

Enhances wisdom and clarity in relationships.

Brings calmness and serenity, helping you communicate openly and lovingly.

Attracts loyalty and stability in partnerships.

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Pile 2:

It’s time to focus on healing and clarity. Someone special may appear just when you least expect it, but first, the universe encourages you to nurture self-love and inner peace. You might be healing from a Heartbreak you might have been through whether it is minor or major it still hurt. Now you can expect for a newer love energy to enter into your life. You can also expect for your current life to be completely cleansed. The following Moonstone recommendation would benefit you clearing our that negativity you held on to for some time now.💜

💎 Gem Recommendation: Moonstone

Encourages emotional healing and balance.

Enhances intuition, helping you navigate love with grace.

Promotes harmony in relationships and strengthens emotional bonds.

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Pile 3:

Joy and adventure await! A fun, exciting energy surrounds your love life. New opportunities for romance will sparkle soon—get ready to explore this vibrant chapter! You are coming into a more vibrant energy in terms of love. The most unlikely pairing could happen in terms of who you end up with in the future. This could be a connection that starts up as a friendship and leads to love. Both of you will have optimism and confidence when you are together as a team. If you are intending to manifest this energy in, wearing a yellow sapphire could increase this prosperous successful energy!🌞

💎 Gem Recommendation: Yellow Sapphire

Attracts prosperity and success in relationships.

Boosts self-confidence and optimism, making you more magnetic.

Brings positivity and joy, enhancing romantic adventures.

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Pile 4:

Transformation is here. Old patterns are breaking to make space for a deep, soul-level connection. Trust the process as your love life shifts toward something truly aligned. You must have dealt with a lot of negative energies in life. This shows through the card that has come through. But you are making space for a deeper connection, one which would touch both your souls completely. This connection which shows up will be intense in a good way. In order to balance out the energies holding on to a crystal such as garnet will help you let go of blockages to form a smooth transformative love.🖤

💎 Gem Recommendation: Garnet

Promotes passion, intimacy, and a deeper connection.

Clears emotional blockages to invite transformative love.

Strengthens commitment and fosters long-term bonds.

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[batmanisagatewaydrug]

hey batman!! looking at your book bingo you have a lot of interesting blanks, i was wondering if you had a process for creating it or advice for anyone who wants to create their own with a lot of variety like yours!! :3

oh FUN no one has ever asked about my methods before lmao. the biggest thing I always keep in mind when in designing my book bingo sheets is that my #1 goal is to get people reading as broadly as possible, in the hopes that they'll try some things they might not ordinarily pick up without being prompted.

so the obvious one I always start with is the big umbrella genres—fantasy, sci fi, horror, romance—and literary fiction. a lot of people have very little experience with at least one of those categories, so hopefully they'll spend some time looking for something they like the sound of and get acquainted with a brand new genre!

similarly, there are spaces for books that could be any genre but are presented in a specific way, like graphic novels, short story collections, and essay collections. again, the hope is that some or all of these aren't something that participants spend a ton of time reading, so it will be something new.

another thing I like to do is time-based prompts, to encourage people to check out older books. some are kind of specific, like speculative fiction from the 20th century, while others are more broad, like published in the aughts (2000-2010) or anything from before 1950—that's nonspecific enough to include Shakespeare or the Odyssey! the flip side of the is the 2025 debut author space, encouraging participants to check out somebody who's brand new to publishing—a great way to support new authors.

some of the spaces in proudest of this year are the ones that come with little bonus activities, like making a recipe and creating a zine in addition to reading those things. adding a little interactive component is a fun shakeup, I think. the prompt to ask a librarian or bookseller for a recommendation is also sort of in this category, where the activity is just talking to a person.

the social justice prompt and the prompt to read a nonfiction book about a topic the participant doesn't know much about see both there to encourage reading to learn, which can hopefully go hand in hand with reading for pleasure :)

I also like slipping in some that could fall into literally any genre at all and only needs to fulfill one other specific criteria, which gives participants some wiggle room. that's stuff like 2024 award winner, animal on the cover, and the prompt to read a sequel.

the prompt to reread a childhood favorite is there purely because I thought it would be sweet and fun to have people revisit books they loved when they were younger. enjoying children's, middle readers', and YA books as an adult can catch a lot of flack, and I think that's bullshit. great books are everywhere!

ultimately the best advice I have is to think about prompts that you would have fun completing yourself; I didn't solidify my prompt list until I could come up with what book I would read for each prompt and felt excited about the list :)

[hayleythesugarbowl]

Hi! I wanted to say I love the way you write everybody from Smosh. I think you capture their essence perfectly in the dialogues. I especially loved the Ian and Spencer fics :)

Also, I know requests are closed at the moment, and I'm sorry if I'm bothering you, but I wanted to share my idea. If you ever get the inspiration to write it (and the time, of course) it would be so cool. If not, no worries ^^

I would love a Spencer x reader fic where he gets jealous/overprotective. Maybe you're at a club and some drunk guy flirts with you, or you're at the beach in a swimsuit, or you're doing a collab with somebody etc. Whatever setting inspires you most. Maybe it gets a bit angsty too 👀

Thank you for the amazing fics! Have a great day, and I hope your pillow is always cold on both sides :))

Fight Club || Spencer Agnew x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • smosh masterlist  ⋆˚｡⋆୨୧⋆

summary: when you’re at a club with spencer and you get hit on by a drunk man, you are annoyed that spencer feels like he has to protect you. but then, when things go too far, you get to see just how much spencer cares for you

word count: 1.8k

warnings: cursing, gross man harasses you

a/n: first of all, i can’t get over this picture send help. second, thank you sm love — characterization is really important to me and i’m so glad i’m doing an ok job!! i hope you enjoy this, protective spencer makes me weak 😩 also fem!reader bc it made sense

(and my pillow has been extra cool lately, i think you work magic 🤭)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     “Ah, this reminds me of my clubbing days,” Amanda sighed, taking in the crowded scene around you. “We had some times back then.”

     “What are you talking about, we went to a club together last weekend,” Shayne reminded her.

     “Oh yeah,” she said. “I’m going to go get a drink. See you couples later.”

     She left and then it was just you, Spencer, Shayne, and Courtney standing together by the entrance. 

     “Hey!” Courtney announced, looking at Shayne and listening to the song that was blasting at full volume. “This is our jam!”

     Shayne smiled at his wife. “We can’t ignore that.”

     Courtney grabbed their husband’s hand, pulling him into the center of the crowd to dance. You grinned at how in love they were.

     You turned to Spencer. “Looks like it’s just you and me.”

     He grabbed your hands, kissing you on the cheek. “Looks like it.”

     You were here at this club with some of the Smosh cast, a few of you having decided to have some fun after a long week of filming. 

     You enjoyed their company, but you couldn’t pretend that you weren’t glad to be alone with Spencer.

     You two had recently started dating, and you couldn’t be more happy together. And you couldn’t be more happy that Spencer was here. Neither one of you were exactly club people and, well, at least you had each other in this chaos.

     “How did we get dragged into this again?” Spencer asked you and you giggled.

     “Let’s just try to have fun,” you said.

     “Alright, but I’m getting us some drinks or something,” Spencer told you. “You think they have any Kickstart here?”

     He walked over towards the other end of the place, and you lost him in the crowd. You rested your elbow on the bar in front of you, waiting for Spencer to return.

     You let your eyes scan the club, finding Courtney and Shayne in the crowd. You saw Amanda a ways off, chatting up some other woman, arms gesturing wildly. 

     “So, do you come here often?” 

      You looked around you. The man who had spoke leaned across the bar, waiting for your answer. 

     “No,” you said. “Never been.”

     “Well, let me know if you want any drink recommendations,” he told you. “I know this place like the back of my hand.”

     “Oh, um, thanks,” you said, wondering exactly what that meant. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

     He took a sip of the drink he held, eyes never leaving your face. 

     “You got a boyfriend?” He asked.

     “Actually I—”

     “‘Cause you’re awfully pretty to be here all alone,” the man interrupted. 

     “Good thing she’s not then,” you heard Spencer’s voice from behind you. 

     He came up next to you, staring down the man at the bar.

     “And who might you be?” He sized up Spencer.

     “I happen to be (Y/n)’s boyfriend,” he put his arm around your shoulders. “She’s mine. And you are?” 

     “Yeah okay,” The man scoffed, standing up completely and setting his glass down. He ignored Spencer, looking at you. “Later (Y/n).”

     He left, but not before turning around to look at you one last time as he walked away. 

     “Yeah you better run,” Spencer said, even though the man wouldn’t be able to hear him.

     “What a jerk,” Spencer turned to you. “They did not, in fact, have any kickstart, by the way, so we’re going to have to get through this sober.”

     “Okay what was that?” You put your hands on your hips.

     “What was what?” Spencer searched your face.

     “I could’ve handled that guy myself, you know,” you said. “And for all you know, he was just being nice.”

     “(Y/n), did you see the way he was looking at you? That wasn’t nice, that’s the way some snakes look at gerbils and stuff before they eat them.”

     You raised an eyebrow at him. 

     “I don’t know, Amanda had me watch some documentary,” he waved the topic away. “But seriously, that wasn’t just friendly.”

      You knew he was right. You’d encountered enough men like him to know. Still, you wanted Spencer to know you could handle yourself. That you didn’t need him scaring men away for you.

     “Sure you’re not just jealous?” you joked, rolling your eyes at him.

     “Oh, one hundred percent,” Spencer said, surprising you. “Look at you. There’s probably loads of guys here who would give their right arm to take you home tonight.”

      A muscle ticked in his jaw and you saw his fingers form a fist by his side. “But I also know that there’s some people here who are real creeps, and that guy’s one of them.”

     “And you don’t think I can deal with them?” You asked, honestly.

     He shrugged, a stark contrast to the wild look that was still in his eyes. “Doesn’t matter, cause I want to…deal with them.”

      “Whatever, I’m going to see if I can catch up with Amanda,” you said, turning around before Spencer could catch up with you. 

      You didn’t look back, making your way through the crowds of people and towards the back of the club.

     You knew you were being stupid and stubborn, but you didn’t want Spencer to think he had to fight your battles for you.

     You weren’t really paying attention to where you where going as you scanned the crowd for one of your friends. 

     “Hello again.”

     You looked up to find yourself face to face with the guy from before. 

     “Hey,” you said, smiling quickly before trying to walk past him. He stepped closer to you, stumbling forward.

     “Not so fast, pretty girl,” he slurred. “You haven’t let me buy you a drink yet.”

     “That’s ok,” you told him, taking another step forward that he blocked. “I should really head back to my friends.”

     “That pathetic excuse for a boyfriend?” He leaned even closer and you noticed the smell of alcohol on his breath. “Forget him. Let me show you a good time.”

     “I’m really not interested,” you tried again, trying not to panic as he cornered you. 

     “‘Course you are,” he said. “Let me take you back to my place and we can—”

     “For the last time,” you started, your voice raising. You were done being nice to him. “I said I’m—”

     He grabbed your wrist then and you cried out, struggling against his grip.

     You were aware of the fact that he could easily overpower you and that no one around you was paying attention as they danced to the music. 

    “Hey man, you wanna get your fucking hands off my girlfriend?” a voice said calmly.

     The man let go of you suddenly and you turned around for the second time that night to find Spencer. You didn’t know how he got there, but in that moment you were just eternally grateful that he was there 

     “Get lost, bastard,” the man said. “This doesn’t concern you.”

     “Actually I think it very much does concern me,” he said, stepping between you and the man, grabbing your hand subtly as he did so, your fingertips touching his. “And I also think it’s time for you to go.”

     “Your girlfriend wants me,” the man said. “Go ahead and ask her.”

     He started to reach towards you over Spencer’s shoulder but Spencer backed up, pushing you with him, tightening his grip on you. 

     “You so much as lay a finger on her again and I’ll throw hands,” he said, his voice like ice.

     You had never seen him like this before. He was usually pretty calm, even tempered, good humored—you hadn’t seen him so much as hurt a fly. 

     But now he looked like he would actually beat this man up if it came down to it.

     The drunk man seemed to realize this too, and didn’t want to cause a scene, because he shook his head, relaxing his posture. 

     “This isn’t worth it,” he mumbled, looking over Spencer’s shoulder at you. “You’re a bitch anyways!”

     He turned around and walked away. You let out a breath, your shoulders falling from their rigid pose.

     “Thank god, I almost thought I was going to have to fight that man,” Spencer breathed out. “I love you, but he was pushing 6’5”.” 

     You laughed breathlessly as Spencer turned around to you, pulling you into his arms. 

     “Are you ok?” He asked, pulling back to get a good look at you. “I’m so sorry you had to deal with that.”

     “I’m fine, Spence,” you said. “Thanks to you. How did you even know where we were?”

     Spencer rubbed the back of his neck with one of his hands. “I might’ve followed you.”

     “Well, I’m really glad you did,” you told him. “You were right.”

     “Really? I thought you’d be pissed.”

     You weren’t. You realized you didn’t care so much any more about making a show of taking care of yourself. Spencer had kind of saved your ass. If it wasn’t for him, who knows what would have happened. You shuddered thinking about it.  Besides, you were partners—and that meant being there for one another. You didn’t have to do everything on your own.

And seeing Spencer tonight, being so protective of you, made you realize how much he cared for you. It was sweet knowing that he would defend you and stand up for you. 

     “I don’t know,” you said, your tone light. “I kind of liked seeing this side of you.”

     Spencer raised an eyebrow. “Well then, we might have to come to clubs more often.”

     “I vote no on that one,” you said.

    “I couldn’t agree more. Now c’mon,” he flicked his head towards the door. “Let’s get out of here.”

     You nodded. “What about the others?” 

     “I’ll text them and tell them we got a cab.”

     You walked in silence for a moment, the noise of the club filling your ears.

     “I can’t believe you almost fought a man,” you teased.

     “Hey, it was about to be Fight Club in there,” he cracked his knuckles. “I don’t think you know what that movie’s about,” you laughed, grabbing his hand.

“Seriously though, you don’t think I could have taken him?” Spencer asked, amusement in his eyes.

     “If he was a character in a video game? Absolutely.”

     “Ouch,” Spencer clutched his chest. “Still have to work on my public perception.”

     You giggled as Spencer opened the door for you and you felt the cool, night air on your cheeks.

     “But, I don’t know, you did look pretty determined. I would have bet money that you would have at least knocked a few teeth out.”

      “I would’ve liked to. He was looking at you like…like…”

     “…like he wanted to make me his?” You finished. 

     “Exactly” Spencer ran a hand through his hair, before kissing you gently. 

     “And only I get to look at you like that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope you guys enjoyed!! ahh this is the last of the fics i had to catch up on!! i feel so accomplished lol time for my sleep schedule to go back to normal. see y’all again when my requests are open. 💋🎀

[shootfromthehipobsessed]

My SFTH Experience!!!

I was lucky enough to see Shoot From The Hip live at the Komedia in Brighton last night and it was AMAZING!!!

In fact, I have so much to say about it that I'm going to tell you about the entire day, both before and after the show, but I'll put it below the cut in case thousands of words of me being obsessed isn't what you followed for haha!

Okay, I'll dedicate 5 minutes to my Boring Normal Morning before diving into the wonderful world of SFTH!

Morning: I actually did rewatch some SFTH videos on their YouTube channel (I couldn't resist!) but I also watched David Lynches 'Blue Velvet' and was horrified, but hey it's a classic I thought I'd at least watch it to have an opinion! Then I went to the library to return 'Love In Exile' by Shon Faye (I highly recommend this and her other book) and in turn borrowed a copy of 'Brokeback Mountain' by Annie Proulx (although I think other stories are included; I started reading it on the train). I would proceed to leave it so deep in my bag that I didn't even start to rummage for it when they asked for books...

Journey there: I took the train and it was maybe half an hours journey for me, which is why I love when they aren't up in London as I'm saving a fortune in train fares! (I just missed the after school rush too!)

In Brighton: I visit Brighton every now and then, so I only arrived a couple hours early and got a Greggs sausage roll for dinner (vegan because they didn't have any others and honestly, it was surprisingly nice!) which I ate whilst waiting in line. Then I had a mooch around town, managing not to buy things I didn't need (win for my wallet) before getting in touch with a friend I planned to meet (for the first time) at the venue.

At the Venue (and a Very detailed account of the evening):

I didn't recognise the lovely group I was meeting with and waited alone with my sausage roll at the back of the queue for a while, until they kindly waved and we were united! But I'll circle back to that in a minute, shoutout to the boys behind me who A) Had already been drinking B) Kept joking that they were alcoholics then C) When one of them said something dark and serious about not seeing the point of life, his friend just replied 'It's okay we're seeing Shoot From The Hip' because that was Real!

The folks I met with were absolutely phenomenal and just such lovely people! I was immediately welcomed and thanks to them got to sit up front with an amazing view. Plus I was very kindly gifted a little bracelet with 'Krampus' in letters across it, since I mentioned that 'Divorces and Teddy Bears' was my favourite longform! I will treasure it forever (I don't wear jewelry because of sensory things but it's a lovely fidget and so precious to me)!!! I also met the older gentleman who I've seen in the crowd of so many videos which was fun! Basically, this community is just as lovely in person as you are online, and I can't thank you enough for that as somebody previously apprehensive about going alone!

We were literally one of the first groups in, I got a little stamp on my arm (does anybody else with scars feel very self conscious when they do this at events?) which I was sad to wash off later and we sat at what Sam called 'tables like a viking long hall' which is a very apt description! We got 3 seconds to rotate our seats though so it all worked out but it was an unusual set up! We had an hour to wait until it started and I didn't get any drinks or food because I knew they'd be ridiculously expensive and I had my water from home. Also, I was so excited I probably couldn't have kept down more than my sausage roll!

At this moment, I came to realise how Loud it was. The speakers were pretty much above the table next door (next to us) and I wished very strongly that I had brought my ear defenders (note for next time!) so if you're planning on going and know you can get overwhelmed by noise, do not be like me and think 'well I'll wear some headphones around Brighton and it'll be okay at the venue because it's them talking, how loud could it be?' you have to account for the hour of Very Loud music beforehand! Why not wear my normal headphones? I feel rude, plus they don't block out much at all.

But! I took 5 minutes to chill in the toilet (loved the set up, instead of gendered toilets the signs just showed 'urinals and cubicles' for on and 'cubicles' for the other, they even mentioned how many! So if you're a gender neutral toilet user you will be able to piss here! Luckily I can cope alright with overwhelm on my own (I like to think so anyway), I was just a bit quiet which I can live with.

Then they came on, we were held in suspense for a few minutes and it was literally magical!!! I can't even describe how amazing seeing them live after months and months of watching them on my little phone screen was, I actually started shaking. I wanted to jump and run laps of the building but y'know, that's impolite so I stuck with my fidget (another note: glow in the dark Tangles are amazing but in a dark venue I felt rude, as if it might be too bright, so it was under the table a lot) and basically vibrating in my seat! The speakers finally quit the music only to be replaced with microphones that felt like stabbing my ear drums, SFTH was no less amazing despite this!

Sam had pink and blue glitter in his beard, which was so lovely as a trans guy (plus it's pride)!!! On that note, I severely abused my binder, remember that they have limits kids! My back hurts now and it did for a lot of the evening (worth it, just be smarter than I was). I will also take this moment to say it's so special that they openly support queer people, so casually, it makes my heart melt!

I didn't take any photos on my own phone (on 10% and rapidly dying) but thankfully the lovely folks on Discord shared theirs as well as getting photos with the boys on someone else's phone (more on that later as well). Another learning moment here: charge your devices and bring a power bank/charger!

It all went SO quickly and I won't describe every game in too much detail (or in order) since it's all in the Discord (and my memory is appalling and I would hate to leave something out!) but the SparkNotes version: They played the game where they ask for a line, the game where they ask for a place, book game, TED talk translation game and party game! It was all hilarious, I mean I-was-wiping-away-tears-hilarious and my face hurt from smiling by the end of it! That was the first half in summary, I'll provide a little more depth (I can't help myself!).

The place was a reptile shop which involved Child-J and Parent Luke plus a weird Pig-Snake and Tom selling it, as per usual Sam was ruthless and AJ's knowledge (or lack thereof) about reptiles was revealed and tested. The first line was 'Don't step on the armadillo' which led to an Evil AJ and Tom (Armadillo Man, tied up) fighting, with Sam watching as a voyeur. The next line was 'Why go see comedy' (it felt rude but they were great about it) and Sam Absolutely Nailed It, becoming emo with Tom (who borrowed a fabulous hat and sunnies from the crowd) then bullied AJ for being too bald to be emo before accepting him, there were a lot of references to bands. The TED talk was on ADHD and got pretty frisky, two audience members were 14 so there were a lot of jokes about censoring a bit! (Apparently Sam recently taught a fourteen year old the word 'cunt' so that came up a lot!)

The suggestions from the audience were brilliant. I found out it's very, very frightening (I say this as somebody who used to be a drama student and isn't often shy) shouting out ideas, but I got a few in and wasn't picked but I built up the confidence and will hopefully be louder next time! For book game, Sam had a book that was something about a Paladin and Luke had a children's book called 'Why Do I Feel Angry?' or something similar and it resulted in a very funny scene about Divorced Father AJ and his angry children!

Then party game, where AJ was guessing (so badly that it was brilliant), Sam was a man who was convinced he's a spider (and squirted out a web in a rather obscene fashion), Luke was a guy who didn't know how to wear hats (hardest to guess for AJ) and came up with a few VERY unique ways of wearing them! Then Tom was Mickey Mouse but he's absolutely baked and ate someone's chips! It was such a good first half and I couldn't believe it went so quickly!!!

The interval was my moment to escape the noise for a minute, but I don't smoke/vape so I felt awkward joining that crowd and the rest of the group wanted to get drinks and stay down there so I went out (queue an embarrassing interaction where some staff pointed outside only for me to say 'Is that the outside? followed by a 'Yes' then from me, 'Thank you sorry' which they had a bit of a laugh about but hey, I made it to the outside!). I had been sat down (although admittedly, not very still) for an hour which in my books meant I was just about ready to fly off (shoutout to everyone who can't sit still), plus I was so energised from excitement on top of that, that I just walked away. I fully up and left, walking down a few roads and enjoying the quiet and fresh air, maybe speed-walking a bit before looping back around and going back down, I didn't remember how long the interval was and probably would've stayed out a bit longer but it was long enough to prepare myself for the noise! (I also ended up behind the Komedia at one point, beginning to worry someone backstage might see me and think 'where is he going?' but fortunately I went unnoticed!)

The second half was an entire longform, titled 'The Beach With No Sand' by an Australian person who was (rightly) outraged by Brighton beach (sorry pal, our whole coastline looks like this!). It was about two Australian brothers on the run, plus another Australian 'Crime Family' chasing them for a murder that wasn't a murder really, and it had me in stitches! Turns out the brothers Were Not Brothers they were lovers and I got confused, but yay gay love story for pride month! There was a beautiful scene where Luke beats up Sam as well as a lot of Tired Sam and obviously general silliness!

When they gave their leaving speech I was so sad because I wanted the night to go on forever but I will definitely be going to more shows when money allows and I have been convinced to join the Patreon, I'm signing up right after I finish this!!! I also was tempted to get on other social media platforms since apparently they post different content to different places but surely it'll be up on Patreon? Let me know social media havers!

They got off and naturally we waited for a hello and a photo which the boys were so lovely about, my friend gave me a helpful nudge too because it's nerve-wrecking! I didn't want to be annoying and hang around too long, it was already late and they have lives! One person (who gave me the brilliant bracelet) gave them little plushies as a thank you for something and it was so sweet! I got a photo with the group I was with and I think next time I'll try get one alone too but it'll be such a lovely memory! I might pop into Boots later and get some printed out!

I actually got to say hi to Sam and look, maybe choosing favourites isn't something you do, but I Do have a favourite and it's Definitely Sam so I was ELATED!!! (Why, you ask? His jokes are the most out there and disciplinary-meeting-worthy which I adore, his laugh is amazing, he seems like such a great guy, and he's gorgeous, mainly the first reasons, but I can't not mention it, he's a stunning man!) I suddenly forgot how to speak (this is my first time getting to meet someone I really admire) and waved, got a thumbs up and smile back and felt a lot better about the whole thing at which point I managed to say 'Hi' and 'You're so cool' (I know, not my coolest moment) but still I feel blessed!!!

There was a queue behind us so we left pretty much straight after and said our goodbyes, my phone was down to about 5% and clinging onto life, and my mum gave me a lift home since it was fairly late and I wanted to rant to her (which I very much did)! I genuinely said it was 'the highlight of my life' which I stand by, it's one of those evenings I won't forget! Especially since this was something of a reward for finishing my exams and school (working means I'll hopefully afford the journey up to London haha) and it was PERFECT!!!!

No notes, the show was immaculate!!! Just charge your phones, respect binder guidelines and bring ear defenders if you might need them!

Massive thank you to the lovely SFTH community and of course the boys themselves, I will now go and sign up to Patreon, and possibly all social media platforms, I'm well and truly obsessed!

[mordredpendragon]

Hands you an Agravaine (for the ask meme) :3

hi ram !!!! thank you for the ask! here's an agravaine for you <3

with a bonus laurel!

ask game under the cut

favorite thing about them

tbh i was pretty neutral on him until i started reading vulgate, he's so much more fleshed out and layered there (i started reading arthuriana with le morte d'arthur and he does fuck all there lol)

i think he's an incredibly compelling character, especially with his interpersonal relationships. there's just something about gawain having a younger brother named essentially not gawain and being a huge contrast to him, and i also really like his relationship with mordred in vulgate as an older brother who raised him. he's the kind of character who's wedged in between characters that are larger than him (i'm sorry agravaine but you're related to gawain, mordred, and arthur and being someone who's related to them is kinda your whole thing) and that in itself is interesting. especially considering that he dies during the fall of camelot, arthur mourns his death

vulgate, death of arthur

rereading this for this post put a tears in my eyes IT KILLS MEEEEEE. AGRAVAINE...... but yes tl;dr my favorite thing about him is being related to gawain/arthur/mordred and him dying. its sooo so so fun (not for them but its fun for ME)

least favorite thing about them

tbh, i find him to be severely underutilized (and if not, completely done dirty) i hate the characterization in which he's just mordred's lackey and there to pretty much die to lancelot and nothing else.

i think it would be way more impactful if he was fleshed out as a legit character. adds to the tragedy that he was somebody the audience actually cares for and not just some NPC lancelot murders lol.

also, really dislike how prose tristan stuff writes him (and the orkney brothers in general) where he's an irredeemable villain but i digress. it doesn't help that i don't care for the orkney/wales blood feud. it's never done in a way that resonates with me.

also the character assassination TH White has done to agravaine PISSES ME OFFFFFFFF ALL THE SHITTY AGRAVAINES IN MODERN ARTHURIANA IS HIS FAULT I SWEAR. aka making him morgause's killer throwing in some added incest in which he lusts for her. GROSS !!!! agravaine get behind me!!!!!

favorite line

tbh i could put anything that he says in mordred, a tragedy by henry newbolt but i really love this one in particular. talking about their brothers and that they're on mordred's side.... it brings a tear to my eye i love the orkneys so much. they're BROTHERS !!!!!!!!

brOTP

obviously him and his brothers! gawain and agravaine is great. so is mordred and agravaine. among his brothers those two i think he has the most interesting dynamic with. this post is already stupidly long and i could make an entire post in general about agravaine's relationship with his brothers, so i think i'll focus on agravaine and mordred.

for one, i love agravaine and mordred in BBC Legend of King Arthur 1979. the orkney brothers in general are great in it (minus gaheris bc he isn't there RIP) but i adore how it expounds on his dynamic with mordred AND his aunt morgan. mordred and morgan are both schemers with plots against arthur and guinevere, morgan wanting revenge on her father gorlois' death and mordred having (in later episodes) vying for the throne, agravaine on the other hand is a lot more sincere and earnest. he had no ulterior motives and his undoing was his honesty. he loved his uncle arthur, and he meant well when he wanted to report guinevere and lancelot's affair to him, because he saw it as a betrayal on arthur, not an opportunity (like morgan and mordred). those two had to "corrupt" him in some way, which what happens during the guinevere apple murder trial because mordred and morgan essentially make agravaine an unwilling accomplice. its soooo so fascinating i highly recommend that show.

second, i'd love to talk about agravaine and mordred in henry newbolt's play: mordred, a tragedy 1895. genuinely has got to be one of my if not THE favorite retelling i've ever read. if anyone reading this hasn't, i'd just urge you to read it bc it's just that good. mordred is the main character as the title says, and agravaine is one of the main secondary characters, he takes on an almost paternal/guiding figure to a young yet incredibly idealistic, passionate mordred and acts as his voice of reason.

JAW DROP..... LIKE THIS SCENE WAS CRAZY. the earlier conversation where it was just them is top notch, and this kind of dynamic between agravaine and mordred is something i'd love to see more often.

BIG fan of agravaine essentially being the logical/reasonable one between his brothers. i've compared him to dinadan because i think they're similar characters (except obviously agravaine isn't a jester/bard like he is) but they function similarly, in my opinion.

OTP

AGRAVAINE AND LAUREL 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖 i love them so so soso much it drives me insane. they're so perfect. i don't care that laurel is basically just a name in malory, i also love the HC that she's his lady love who (alongside a young mordred) takes care of him when he was suffering from a curse in vulgate.

admittedly i am biased to how i write them and how my peers write them (shoutout to @queer-ragnelle AGAIN lmao this is literally your fault)

nOTP

anything incestuous. looking at you TH White.

random headcanon

my favorite headcanon is that he's got some sort of facial scarring and he's blind in one eye. for me personally it's no reason just vibes, in my project he's got some kinda magic sigil under his eye (he can't see through it though obviously)

and like, obviously as a disability it affects how he fights. one of my favorite things about him in vulgate is comparing how he navigates battle and combat in comparison to his brother gawain, he's a lot more careful and discerning in his encounters rather than just going berserker mode. you can see this in agravaine vs druas the cruel, i think

vulgate lancelot part v

he knows his limits, lol

since i made him blind in one eye, he knows his blind spot and his weaknesses. (in my lore he's referred to as sir agravaine the one eyed swordsman for this reason) and he's a lot more calculating and cunning in his fighting style, more relying on wits + terrain (funny the guy with one eye is more observant than most people)

unpopular opinion

nothing i haven't said earlier. for whatever reason he has this reputation for being a crazy misogynist (likely thanks to Fate/grand order because of his infamous over meme'd to the oblivion line about hating women) and also again because of T.H White's depiction of him. and whatever the hell BBC Merlin did to him.

i just really hate that kind of depiction of him and honestly? there's worse characters. breuse sans pite's whole thing is being a rapist, and geraint/erec spends the entire time in his respective romances brutalizing his wife enid.

free my man agravaine he doesn't deserve this slander 😭or at the very least, i would like to have more nuanced portrayals of him for variety.

favorite picture of them

really love this image of him from the short story by P.G Wodehouse. really cute short story about agravaine!!

[starlightkun]

➥ word count: 28.9k ➥ warnings: cursing, side character makes one (1) kms joke (“walk into traffic”), probable overuse of the word skeeze for a couple scenes ➥ genre: angst heavy at the beginning then fluff, science fantasy au, soulmate au (red string), speculative fiction, star crossed lovers, a little mystery-ish, artist sungchan ➥ author’s note: omg i’m sooo excited for this one! had a lot of fun with the worldbuilding and such, and as always, with characterizing sungchan. unfortunately due to tumblr’s 1000 block limit (which was created to hurt me personally), i had to do some modifications to this in order to make it fit (i was like 150 blocks over and really didn’t want to split it into two parts for no reason). if you want the authentic, unadulterated experience with original formatting and one extra scene, i highly, highly recommend reading it on ao3

To your horror, the string completed itself, connecting seamlessly to the pinky of the stranger in front of you. The young man looked at you with wonderment, a wide smile coming to his features, brightness and recognition in them. He opened his mouth, presumably to say hello, or whatever soulmates did when they met, but before he could utter anything, you dropped the book and took off at a run.

Humming along to your music, you watched the city pass by, felt the bus start and stop, and were vaguely aware of the same passengers as always getting on and off. You took the same bus every day, Monday through Friday, as you had for the past two years, since you’d been promoted and moved to better accommodations that you could afford with your new pay.

There were regulars on your commute, such as the elderly couple who got on one stop after you on the first Monday every month, and got off at the stop that you knew was closest to the art museum. They sat in the row behind you, and explained to you once that they had been passholders at the museum for years, and that was when new exhibits were rotated in. Or in the front of the bus, a pair of sisters that you had inadvertently seen grow up over the years, who got on some time before your stop, and got off two stops before you in the morning, close to a nearby private school. You could sometimes hear the older one helping the younger with homework, or making last-minute fixes to her hair or uniform.

There were of course lots of office workers as well, who all rushed on and off the bus with promptness at their stops. You recalled fondly the primary school teacher who used to sit next to you, young and always dressed in fun, colorful prints. She had blurted out one morning that she was pregnant, and you were the first person she was telling, even before her husband. She didn’t know how to tell him yet, but was so excited and had to share the news with somebody, even a stranger that she only knew for a few minutes a day on the bus. You’d watched over the months as she started to show, then told you one morning she was just going on a short maternity leave to have her baby boy but would be back sooner than you’d know. She never got back on again. You hoped her son was beautiful and healthy, and still thought of them every so often when you’d look up and pass by her stop.

And then there was you. You sometimes wondered what they thought of you, if any of them did. It would be strange if they didn’t have at least a passing opinion of you. Not because you yourself did anything remarkable on your daily commute. You got on, took the same seat every day, listened to your music with your headphones in, and got off at the same stop. But no matter how normal your routine was, how quaint your occasional conversations with your fellow commuters were, there was something that set you apart.

As signified by the strawberry red jumpsuit you donned five days a week, you worked at The Soulmate Factory. It was technically called the Bureau of Interpersonal Affairs, but everyone just called it The Soulmate Factory, even the employees. Not the most popular place to work, but the work that was done there had to be done nevertheless. All Factory employees were ineligible for matching, in order to maintain the integrity of the Bureau’s image. Your family could never understand why you’d accept a position there; never getting a soulmate of your own, never getting the one person destined for you. But you didn’t see it like that. It’s not like you could never fall in love, find a partner to spend your life with, or be fulfilled in any millions of other ways.

The bus jerked to a stop again, and the doors swung open. You stood up and hurried off. You were the only passenger to depart here, as usual. A building loomed in the distance, all flashing windows and pink marble. Following in a few other coworkers in matching red jumpsuits, you hurried up the stairs, catching up to a familiar head of hair on the way up.

“Morning, Jaemin!” You chirped, nudging his arm with yours as you fell into step with him.

“Oh, hey, Y/N! Morning!” He offered you a bright smile, stepping off at the same floor as you and walking over to your neighboring desks.

“Hey, did you ever read that book I leant you?” You asked, dropping your backpack off at your desk before heading for the breakroom together. There was always a quiet buzz in the morning that you liked, when everybody was still mellow from waking up, but excited to start the day.

He hissed regretfully, a sheepish smile already coming to his face, telling you everything you needed to know, “Well...”

“You haven’t touched it since the day I gave it to you.”

“I’m going to! Promise!”

“It’s coming up on my re-read list,” you warned him, starting a fresh pot of coffee. “I only have like four books ahead of it. That gives you like, four weeks max.”

“You need to rot your brain with some TV or something.” He shook his head teasingly, reaching up into a cabinet and pulling down a box of cereal.

“Hey, isn’t that—”

“Na Jaemin, if you value your life, you’ll put that box down now.” The stern voice of Huang Renjun cracked through the air.

Jaemin turned around, hiding the box behind his back as he offered your other coworker a sickly sweet smile. “What box?”

“Come here, you son of a—”

“Hey, let’s not commit homicide before the weekly agenda meeting, maybe?” You suggested loudly over their squabbling, as Renjun had just grabbed Jaemin by the collar. “Because I’m pretty sure if you kill Jaemin, they’ll just reassign you his work, Renjun. Might want to see what your workload is like first.”

Renjun yanked the box of cereal out of Jaemin’s hand then, holding it to his chest protectively and scowling. “Fine. You better hope that you’re on data synthesis, Jaemin.”

He walked out still clutching the box to his chest.

“He’s just going to eat it dry by the fistful, isn’t he?” You sighed, starting to pour yourself a cup of coffee.

“Definitely,” Jaemin confirmed. “And I’m suddenly really wanting to do some data synthesis this week.”

After getting dismissed from the weekly agenda meeting—during which Jaemin was assigned data synthesis, and Renjun got profile compiling—you headed back to your desks. You weren’t assigned anything because your job was the same every day. You were on a very specific career trajectory at The Soulmate Factory after showing promise in the typical six months of entry-level training for new employees. Following those six months, your fellow trainees went on to start their jobs, while you went through an additional two and a half years of specialized training for your position: matchmaking.

You didn’t sit down at your computer when you got back to your desk, simply placing your nearly empty coffee cup on it before taking off down the hall to the room in which you actually did most of your work.

Swiping your badge at the access panel, the door clicked to unlock, and you pushed it open. There were a couple of other matchmakers already in there, who didn’t offer you a single glance or any indication that they were even aware of your presence. Sitting at your station, you were face-to-face with a quaintly archaic-looking computer. Compared to the newest monitors at every desk in the main bullpen, which could display images in a resolution so crisp it was hard to tell the difference between that and real life, the small, square glass and pixelated text that was in front of you seemed so out of place. But this was the system. Pressing the Enter button on your keyboard, your screen came to life, already giving you your first match.

N!#83LPd5D4ZR$PYQ^KLT6WnY##4GYVm74v^f@96#q#hheeRYgLLf3Ft9KQw

‘Matchmaker’ was a misnomer, really. You didn’t set people up to be soulmates whatsoever. The computer gave you the results, all you did was read them. Take the seemingly random string of letters, numbers, and characters, and parse out the meaning. Your training consisted of watching other matchmakers work, then trying your hand at doing some on your own, being told that you were wrong or right, with no explanation as to why either way—until you stopped getting them wrong. And whenever it would be your turn to train a matchmaker, that would be exactly how you’d train them. Because there was no way to tell them what exactly you were seeing, or how to do it. They just had to do. The longest part was looking up the profile numbers in the program, selecting them, and sending off the match results. As soon as you submitted that one, your next match came up.

jkD%NVSC3%JCacN%vWS5#k!Z4GqGW#ZfMyqGUfc@wQT5L5vK2uWU5N*5Lg&6

Your body moved as if by itself, in understanding with the machine, the program. The matchmakers often talked about entering a sort of trance when working, becoming one mind with the computer, completely unaware of their surroundings, time, or bodily needs. Only the next match. That’s why all of your screens had to be simultaneously forced into a shut-off at lunchtime, or else none of you would take a lunch break, then again at the end of the workday.

Blinking a few times to readjust from the hours spent interfacing with the program, you looked around you at the other matchmakers slowly getting up from their seats as well. With a sigh, you stood up and shuffled out after them. Jaemin was still at his desk when you got back to yours, fervently clacking away at his keyboard. You grabbed your coffee mug, went to wash it out in the breakroom and set it up to dry, then returned to your desk. Swallowing in an attempt to wet your dry throat, you asked him, “So how was your thrilling day of data synthesis?”

“Not over yet,” he groaned, scrolling down in his spreadsheet. “Hey, wait up a minute, would you?”

Checking the time on your watch, you nodded. “My bus doesn’t come for another twenty-five. They let us out early again.”

“Yeah, I heard the Director on the phone to somebody a while ago. He sounded pissed. Apparently, there’s some concerns over the Factory’s energy usage. They must be cutting you guys a few minutes early every day to try to help since you still use old hardware, right?”

“Mm,” you hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah, could be.”

“You’d think we’d be the one agency that wouldn’t be hit with budget cuts,” he scoffed, clicking a few things before his monitor displayed the login screen again. He spun around in his chair, giving you a wide smile. “Alright, ready?”

“Sure.” You grabbed your backpack from your seat. Jaemin and you headed down the stairs, awash in pinks and oranges from the sunset streaming in from outside.

“So, I already know what the answer is going to be, but I have to be able to say that I asked, alright?” Your coworker began, making you scrunch up your face in confusion. “My sister wanted me to ask if you’ve done hers yet? Na Minhee?”

You sighed, “Jaemin, you know I don’t know any of that—” “I know—” “—it’s all just… stuff. And you’ve compiled profiles, those are completely anonymous.”

“I know, I know,” he reassured you. “I just needed to be able to tell her that I asked, and that’s what you said. She wouldn’t take my word for it.”

“She’d know if hers has already been done, anyway.” You held up your hand, wiggling your pinky finger. “Why ask you?”

“Because she’s impatient.”

“Well, I can’t help her.” You shrugged. “It’ll happen when it happens.”

“I’ll tell her that. Thanks!”

“Yeah, no problem, dude.”

“When does your bus come?”

You checked the time again. “Fifteen minutes or so.”

“You want me to wait with you?” He offered, looking around the empty bus stop. “Kind of dark.”

“I’m alright, thanks. Go break your sister’s heart, champ.” You gave him a mock punch on the shoulder.

On your own again, you took your phone and headphones out, popping one earbud in your ear as you went to choose your playlist. As you scrolled, tapped, and swiped through your phone to try to pick the perfect song, some fuzz fell from your jumpsuit onto your right pinky finger, and you absentmindedly shook it off as your focus stayed on your music library. But it was stubborn, and the red fleck didn’t budge. You wiped the digit on your pants, eyes on where you had finally gotten the perfect choice, the song starting up as you lifted your now-clean hand back up.

Except it was still there. You looked at your hand for the first time, really looked at it, and felt your stomach drop. A thin, bright red string, the same color as your jumpsuit, was tied around your right pinky finger, just above the juncture where the finger met your hand. The string hung off in the air, becoming transparent and disappearing altogether less than a finger’s length away. You turned your hand over, palm to back to palm to back, and the string moved with it, the end fluttering with each of your movements. Stupidly, you tried to grab it, as if to pull it off, but when you took hold of the silken thread and gave it a yank, it didn’t budge. For a split second, amputation came to mind, but you quickly pushed those thoughts away. There were stories of people losing fingers or entire limbs and their strings reappearing on the other hand, or in new places altogether if they had no hands at all.

You looked around for any of your coworkers. Nobody else except the two people on either end of the string could see it, but you still didn’t want anybody to be observing your behavior, and then have to try to explain said behavior right now. It was easy to explain why you were doing what you were doing—you just got a red string; but not how—you weren’t supposed to get one. Ever. The area around you was empty, the majority of your coworkers driving, taking the subway, or not having left work yet. You looked over your shoulder, at the pink marble building looming in the distance.

The squeal of brakes and hiss of compressed air as the doors of a bus were flung open made you turn around. Rushing up the steps onto the bus, you then plopped into your usual seat, keeping your backpack on your lap and instinctively tucking your right hand between the bag and your body to keep the string hidden. You didn’t know who could possibly be your soulmate now, you had to be vigilant. You didn’t relax until you were safely tucked away in your apartment, door locked behind you, no plans to see any other humans for the rest of the day.

The next morning, you kept your right hand hidden away as much as possible on your commute, in your pockets, behind your bag, under your thigh. You didn’t feel remotely safe until you were in the matchmaking room, at your station. Even then, it took you longer than normal to stop from looking at your pinky and actually focus on the first match up on your screen. Once you had, everything else faded away like usual, and you could only think about reading the matches.

vLZD%v7^XftyvnM6HcxszgUbT6EaPaza41tJtv%#HFby%5Y2rWdujYUj8X21

At lunch, you typically would’ve taken your packed lunch to a nearby public park to eat, but that was too risky. So you took it to the breakroom, sitting at the small table and taking out one of your books from your bag. A few other coworkers came in and out to use the microwave or retrieve their own lunch from the fridge, but nobody bothered you as you read. You finished your food rather quick, and found yourself a bit too distracted to focus on your book. The red string on your finger was back in the forefront of your mind. Checking the time, you saw that you still had over half of your break left. With a sigh, you shut your book and walked back over to your desk next to Jaemin’s.

The floor was pretty empty, only a couple of your coworkers left who either took early or later lunches. You turned on the desktop computer, waiting for it to start up before quickly signing on. Opening up the program where profiles were compiled to be fed into the matchmaking system, you chewed on the inside of your cheek thoughtfully, clicking around on the controls. During the basic training you’d received over five years ago, you’d been shown how to compile and enter a profile into the database, and you obviously searched them up from your matchmaking station. But these were all profiles that hadn’t been matched yet, that didn’t have red strings. You needed to get into wherever the profiles that had been successfully matched were. If they were kept somewhere at all.

After poking around some more in the application, you determined that either you didn’t have the technical know-how to access that information, the administrative access to do so, or that information wasn’t stored in the first place. Exiting out of the program with a sigh, you dropped your chin into your palm, scrunching your eyes and nose up as you continued thinking. It felt like it was right there, right on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t grab it for some reason. The weekly agenda meeting, something about the weekly agenda meeting—Jaemin was assigned data synthesis. They compiled information on all kinds of stuff regarding matched soulmates: average time to meet after the strings appear, get married, have kids, how many kids, length of time they’re together prior to death, the list goes on. That couldn’t come from nowhere. They had to keep track of soulmates somehow, right?

You quickly opened the Internet browser, going to the Bureau’s website and finding the ‘Studies and Statistics’ page. All of the things you were thinking about were there, complete with fancy little graphics. It didn’t tell you anything about where this stuff was stored internally, but this meant that it had to be, somehow, somewhere. Which meant that your match had to be somewhere, and if you could just find it, then you could—

What? Undo it somehow? It had to be possible. But first you had to find out how it happened in the first place, which meant laying eyes on the match itself, at least. You needed some kind of starting point, and that felt like as good as any.

At the end of the day, the matchmakers were let out early again, and you waited up at your desk as Jaemin was still working. He looked over his shoulder at you curiously. “You need something, Y/N? I don’t have your book, sorry.”

“No, I have a question. But you can finish your work first.”

He made an interested noise, and turned back to his screen. After entering a few more things into his spreadsheet, he pressed save, then exited out with a satisfied groan. He shut down his computer and leaned back, audibly cracking his back. “Fucking finally! If I ever have to look at another number again, I’ll walk into traffic.”

You chuckled as the two of you set off. “Data synthesis that bad?”

“Yeah.” He rubbed one of his eyes. “Anyway, what’d you want to ask me?”

“It was actually about data synthesis…”

“No!” He whined, shaking his head fervently.

“One question! One question!” You begged.

“Fine…”

“The data that you use, how do you get that? Like, where do you get it from?”

He looked at you, squinting with confusion. “From soulmates that have already been matched?”

“Then the Factory keeps records of matches after the strings have been triggered.”

“Yeah, we do.”

“Where? Is it a separate database from the one that you enter new profiles into? Or is it part of the matchmaking program?”

“I mean, it’s probably its own thing? I don’t know, I get the numbers in my data synthesis project assignments. If I need more, or something different, I tell the project manager and he gets it for me.”

“Huh.” You kept the disappointment off your face, as well as curiosity. While he didn’t know a lot, what he didn’t know actually was helpful to you. “Okay, thanks.”

“That was more than one question.”

“Right, sorry.”

“What’s going on? Why the interest in data synthesis all of a sudden?”

“Just curious, since you guys seem to hate it so much.”

“It’s… mind-numbing, to say the least.”

“Here’s hoping next week you’re on profile compiling.”

“Fingers crossed,” he sighed. “Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.”

The next few days passed without incident. Your intervals of snooping around on your desktop computer during your lunch breaks were fruitless in finding wherever completed matches were stored, and soon it was Friday evening, and the work week was over. Not even a crisis like this could make you work late on a Friday. You realized when you got home that you were out of groceries, and ordered delivery to your apartment. Can’t risk someone at the restaurant being your soulmate.

Saturday morning you woke up and left early to go grocery shopping, hopefully before most anybody would be out and about. Well, before one person in particular would be awake—your soulmate. Only problem was, you didn’t know who that was, so you had to avoid pretty much everybody. As you walked through the streets keeping your hands crossed and tucked under your arms, you kept your head down, eyes focused only on your feet. If you couldn’t see anybody’s hands and couldn’t possibly see a red string, hopefully they wouldn’t see yours.

Except as you rushed through the streets, you passed by your favorite small bookstore, with its doors wide open, and a sign out front on the sidewalk advertising a huge sale, 70% off a table of books right by the doorway. You couldn’t help but stop—just for a second—to check it out, spotting a title by one of your favorite authors that you’d been meaning to read but hadn’t yet. Picking up the book to look at the price and turning it over in your hands to skim the blurb on the back, you were barely aware of the sounds of some young men playing with a Frisbee at the park across the street, their yells fading into the din of the waking city.

That was, until the purple, plastic disc came skittering across the pavement to a stop right at your feet, and a tall man jogged up after it, still calling to his friend over his shoulder, “Nice aim, Anton! You almost took this poor woman’s head off!”

You missed what his friend said in response as you were already looking up from the Frisbee with the intent to tell him that you were quite alright, then your eyes got caught on a thin red loop around his pinky finger. Snapping your gaze down to your own hand, which was still holding the book, then back to his as he stood now right in front of you, your eyes widened with alarm.

To your horror, the string completed itself, connecting seamlessly to the pinky of the stranger in front of you. The young man looked at you with wonderment, a wide smile coming to his features, brightness and recognition in them. He opened his mouth, presumably to say hello, or whatever soulmates did when they met, but before he could utter anything, you dropped the book and took off at a run. You sprinted away, turning down streets at random, until your legs were burning and you had a stitch in your side. Ducking around another shop, you hid behind the building to catch your breath, sure that you had lost him. Your heartbeat was thudding loudly in your ears, and you habitually tried to shake off that stupid, pesky red string again.

“Look—” A voice suddenly registering right over your shoulder made you jump and scramble back. The man had found you, holding his hands out in front of him like he was trying to calm a wild animal or a spooked horse. His chest was heaving as he was as out of breath as you were (presumably from running after you). There was a bewildered, confused look in his wide eyes as he kept himself between you and the only way out of the alley you had unintentionally backed yourself into. “I don’t normally chase women through the streets, sorry.”

You stayed silent as you looked between him and the exit. The red string hung between you, painfully obvious.

“I just… wanted to talk, you know,” he continued, gesturing to said string. “I’m Sungchan.”

You shook your head, clenching your jaw tightly to avoid making any kind of sound.

“What?” He tilted his head. “You… won’t tell me your name?”

You stared at him, unmoving.

“You know what, we got off on a bad foot, and clearly this is not a good time for you.” Sungchan stepped away from the alley entrance entirely. “Bye for now.”

Taking hesitant, shuffling steps, uncertain that he was actually going to let you leave, you kept your eyes laser focused on him until you were out of the alley, at which point you promptly booked it down the road again. You didn’t stop until you could no longer breathe, your legs shook and threatened to give out any second, and you had tears streaming down your face from the wind blowing into them.

That day you looked up how to get rid of a red string. You knew it was stupid, impossible to do at home. You literally worked at The Soulmate Factory, you were a matchmaker, for fuck’s sake, you were the one giving them out in the first place.

None of it worked, of course. Not meditating, praying, attempting to light it on fire, soaking your finger in a mixture of various oils and herbs from your spice cabinet, scrubbing really hard with the coarse side of a sponge, or crying for thirty minutes straight (that last one was just you being frustrated, no Internet listicle or sketchy guru suggested that). It was still there after everything, as pristine as when it appeared less than a week ago. Less than a week ago. Much faster than average, according to the statistics that you had just looked up the other day. The average time from getting the red string to meeting was seven months and eighteen days, with some taking several years. And yours just had to be within five days. You felt like you could cry again, if you didn’t already have a throbbing headache from how much you had done that earlier.

Now, you were sitting under the spray of your shower, holding your knees to your chest, trying not to look at it. You couldn’t look at your finger, at the red string, but if you closed your eyes, you just saw his face—Sungchan.

On Monday, you continued your investigation with renewed vigor. When you swiped into the matchmaking room, you didn’t go to your station, instead you headed for the back, where there was a short flight of stairs up to an office. Knocking on the door, you waited for the familiar voice inside to beckon you in.

“Come in.”

Pushing your way in, you nodded politely to your supervisor, “Good morning, Ms. Kwon.”

“Good morning, Y/N.” She brought her hands down from where they had been poised over her keyboard to rest in her lap. “How are you?”

“I’m well,” you lied. “How are you?”

“Fine. What brings you to my office this morning?”

“I… have sort of a weird question, if that’s alright.”

She gestured to the two chairs opposite her. “Of course.”

You sat in one, making a conscious effort to keep your knee from bouncing nervously.

“What is your question?” She prompted you.

“There’s never any mistakes, right?”

“Mistakes? No, you’re all trained right.” Ms. Kwon arched an eyebrow. “Do you think you’ve made a mistake, Y/N?”

“No, not the matchmakers. I mean… the computer does whatever it does with the information it’s given, right? That we collect?” You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for what you were about to say. “What if… it gets the wrong information? Wouldn’t it all be wrong if it’s given the wrong stuff in the first place?”

“The profiles we compile are extremely rudimentary, and that isn’t all the information it uses. The computer does more than we can ever know.”

“But what if… there’s an extra profile in there that was never supposed to be in there?”

“Like a person that doesn’t exist? How would a fake person even get created in the first place?”

“No I mean like—You know how Factory employees are taken out of the program? What if somehow, someone got missed? Like, their match happened right before their first day or something crazy. So they got matched up when they weren’t supposed to.”

“I’ve never heard of that happening.” She shook her head, leaning back in her seat and crossing her legs at the knee. “As soon as we receive someone’s application, their profile is removed from the program. If they’re not hired, their profile is put back in. If they are hired, the data is permanently destroyed.”

“Where’s it stored when it’s temporarily removed during the application process, then?”

She didn’t answer your question, her face turning concerned instead of simply confused as before. “Y/N, what’s going on? Do you know of a Factory employee who’s been matched up?”

You shook your head, trying not to deny it too quickly or with too much fervor. “No, I just—Got a brain itch about it, I don’t know. Seems too… uncertain.”

“I can assure you, no Factory employee has ever been matched up. Accidentally or otherwise,” she replied smoothly, a reassuring smile coming to her features. “You can rest easy; no mistakes are made here.”

“Can you just… answer my question? Please?” You pleaded, picking at your nails to avoid messing with your pinky. “I won’t be able to sleep tonight.”

“Alright, to soothe your brain itch,” she agreed, sounding amused. “It’s another list in the profiles database that we import into your matchmaking program, except only personnel with a certain clearance can view, add, and remove profiles from the list. Once a round of interviews has been completed, the applicants on the list are either marked as hired or not. If they’re marked as hired, their profile information is permanently destroyed upon their first day of training. If they’re marked as not, it’s returned to the main database that everyone has access to.”

“One more thing?”

“Sure.”

“Once a match is made, where does that information go? Like, the reports, the profiles, is it stored anywhere?”

“We maintain all of those records in another program. Those with higher clearance have access to it, for security purposes, since profiles are de-anonymized in it. Data synthesis uses them for reports frequently.”

“Okay, thanks.” You offered her a feigned, relieved smile, then tacked on a quick fib, “Just wanted a little refresh, in case we got any new hires anytime soon.”

“Already looking to train, Y/N?”

“Oh, maybe…” You laughed nervously, as if shy about being caught with your eye on a promotion already and not anxious from having to discretely interrogate your supervisor.

“You always were ambitious. And wanting to learn more about the program and the Bureau… I like it.” Ms. Kwon nodded her approval. “Feel free to ask about any other brain itches you get, okay?”

“Right, thanks.” You stood up, giving her a polite bow. “I should get to my station. Thank you again, ma’am.”

As you hurried down to your matchmaking station, you easily came to the realization of what you’d need to do next. There was no way you’d be able to just wait until you were promoted to a position with high enough security clearance for the post-matched program, that sounded like it would be people of Ms. Kwon’s position and above. You’d have to get into the program using one of their access points. Somehow. But you didn’t have time to brainstorm a plan for that at the moment, you had matches to read. You sank down into the comfortable, posture-saving chair, and let your mind mesh with the computer as the first one loaded up on the screen.

The next day, you waited at your bus stop, leaning against the shelter and eating your apple one-handed. Pedestrians would occasionally pass by, but your area was mainly young families, so most residents drove their children to daycare or school, then either returned home, or went to work themselves. There was the occasional parent who would jog by with a stroller, or pulling a stroller hitched to the back of a bicycle, but for the most part it was just you and your apple, which you were nearly done with. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a lone jogger approaching, and took a step back to allow him to pass, eyes still down on your phone and apple as your bus hadn’t arrived yet. Except this jogger slowed to a stop in front of you. You followed the red string from the hand that held your apple core up to a somewhat familiar face, looking down at you in mild confusion.

He was admittedly sweatier now, pieces of hair curling and sticking to the skin at his hairline, and his t-shirt sported a damp spot starting at his collar going down the middle of his chest. But this was definitely Sungchan, as signified by the red string connecting your right pinky to his left. He lifted the hem of his shirt to quickly pat drops of sweat away from his face and took one of his earbuds out as he offered you an easygoing smile.

“Hi. Feeling better?” He asked, his tone light and teasing.

“Why are you here?” You practically snapped. You thought you’d be safe at your bus stop of all places, which you were at every day. You knew your neighborhood, the people on your bus, but he still somehow showed up. “I-I take the same bus every day, at the same time, and I’ve never seen you jogging in the morning!”

“Oh, yeah, I stayed at my sister’s place last night, she lives around here.” Sungchan casually gestured over his shoulder at the general vicinity. “So I had to take a different route than normal for my morning run. You live in this area?”

You stared at him, jaw clenched.

“Sorry, probably sounded a little weird asking you that, huh?” He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uhm, it’s just that you said you’re at this same bus stop every day at the same time, so I figured you, uhm… never mind. I’m Jung Sungchan, I realized I didn’t properly introduce myself last time. I’d offer my hand or hug you or something but I’m a bit sweaty…”

Taking a deep breath, you tried to think of how to politely phrase the everything you had to tell him, but he just kept talking.

“I’d like to uh, you know, know your name, too. Since we’re uhm, you know… soulmates? And uh—”

“Sungchan!” You cut him off, and he immediately shut his mouth. “It doesn’t matter. You don’t need to know my name.”

“What? What are you talking about? But we’re—”

“I’m not supposed to have a soulmate!” You gestured wildly to your uniform. “This was a mistake! An error! I’m sorry. This shouldn’t have ever happened. I’ll get it fixed, okay? I’ll figure out how to undo it, and make sure you get put back in.”

He frowned thoughtfully. “I thought the Factory didn’t make mistakes.”

“The computer doesn’t. But somehow, somebody must have put a paper in the wrong stack, or not deleted something when they should’ve, I don’t know! But I’ll fix it.”

The bus finally arrived then with its usual screech of brakes and hiss of the pneumatic doors, and you stepped away from Sungchan towards it.

“I have to go.” You told him with finality, tossing your apple core in a nearby trashcan and boarding the bus without waiting to hear if he had something else to say.

Without having to avoid the entire world now, you actually took your lunch today. But as soon as you stepped outside of the building and turned from the front doors, you spotted a familiar tall figure standing awkwardly off to the side, no longer in sweaty running gear. You made a beeline for Sungchan, grabbing him by the elbow and pulling him to the most secluded corner of the open space as you could, away from all your coworkers who were heading off to take their own break.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You hissed at him, constantly glancing around to make sure nobody was close enough to hear you two.

His face did look genuinely regretful, though exasperated at the same time. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know how else to find you.”

“Why are you trying to find me?”

He held up his left pinky. You pushed it back down. “I’m working on it!”

“No, I—” He let out a frustrated groan, rubbing his face. “Can we like… I don’t know, talk, or something?”

“Why?”

“Don’t you think I should get a say in you undoing this?”

You inhaled sharply. “You’re right, Sungchan. I’m sorry. We should talk.”

“Finally, thank you.”

Checking the time for a moment, you then offered, “I have fifty-five minutes left of my lunch break. Do you want to join me?”

“Sure, sure.”

You led him away from The Soulmate Factory, along a familiar path. There was a riverside public park nearby, and on days when you packed your lunch, and it was nice out, you would eat outside.

Sungchan broke the silence, “Will you ever tell me your name?”

“Y/N. Y/L/N Y/N,” you informed him flatly. “Happy?”

“Y/N,” he repeated, as if savoring your name. “Okay, thanks.”

The park was only a couple minutes’ walk, and you had a very specific destination in mind once you two got there.

“I packed a lunch today, sorry,” you said quietly, sitting down on the wall overlooking the river, your feet swinging in the air.

Sungchan sat down next to you. “That’s fine. I can grab something later.”

Opening your lunch bag, you grabbed your sandwich and held out half to him. He accepted it gingerly. “Thank you.”

“I haven’t figured out how to undo it yet, but I can enter a profile into the program easy, so once I do undo it, don’t worry about me putting you back in. You’ll be all set,” you reassured him, taking a bite.

“You’re still talking like this is a done deal. Undoing it.”

“I’d be fixing someone’s mistake, Sungchan. That’s what you do at work. When you see a piece of paper is misfiled, or a decimal is in the wrong place, or a typo on a presentation, you fix it, even if you didn’t do it.”

“It’s just… human error?”

“Yes.”

“That’s all that’s happened here, you think?”

“Whoever was supposed to take my profile out didn’t for some reason, and the computer got it when it wasn’t supposed to,” you confirmed emphatically.

“How does it work, the program? And the profiles, and the computer? All of it?” He questioned.

You gave him as simplified of a version as you could, “Profiles and a bunch of other data points get put into the program, which imports them into the computer. The computer spits out the resulting matches, I—we, matchmakers read them and submit the match reports, triggering the red strings.”

“So it wasn’t given any incorrect information about you or me? Nobody tampered with the system to force it to match us, or falsified a match?”

“No, you can’t do that. It’s impossible.”

“The only hiccup, in your opinion, was that it was given your data at all.”

“Yes, Factory employees aren’t allowed to—”

“Whose rule is that?”

“The Bureau—”

“So, it’s literally just bureaucracy?”

“I like my job,” you huffed, frustrated that he wasn’t seeing the blatantly obvious mistake that had happened. “It’s a rule for a reason. Factory employees are taken out of the program so the public doesn’t think employees are rigging their matches.”

“Can’t rig your soulmate if you don’t get one,” he scoffed.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“You say that like having one would be the worst thing in the world!” Sungchan replied incredulously.

“It is for me! Because do you know what would happen if people at the Bureau found out this happened?” You looked at him with wide, pointed eyes. “Just losing my job would probably be the best outcome. And who knows what would happen to you!”

“But—”

“I’m sorry, Sungchan. I’m sure you had imagined all of this, your red string, and the person at the other end of it, going a lot different. And I’m sure it will, when I fix everything.” You stood up, cutting your conversation and lunch short. “Don’t come to my work again, okay? For both our sakes.”

“Yeah, okay. Sorry,” he muttered, looking out at the water.

Back at the Factory, you finished eating your lunch at your desk, then shuffled back to the matchmaking room. After swiping in, you realized that you were pretty early, the first one back. Curious, you peered up at Ms. Kwon’s office. She was in there, of course. No way would you be able to attempt to use her computer to access the higher-clearance data. You sank into the chair at your station with a deep sigh. Drumming your fingers along the desktop, you let your eyes flutter shut. You’d have to wait for the others to get back from lunch for the power to be returned to the screens. In the meantime, you could just ruminate.

“Y/N?” Ms. Kwon’s voice came from the direction of her office. “Back so soon?”

You opened your eyes back up, turning to look at her. You nodded sheepishly. “Quick eater…”

“I feel like I’ve seen you in the breakroom with a book before. Nothing today?”

“Forgot it at home.”

“Alright, well… have fun, I suppose.” She turned to go back into her office.

“There’s no way to undo a match, is there?” You blurted out, stopping her in her tracks. She turned back around to look at you curiously as you continued, “Once we press submit on the computer, that’s it?”

Ms. Kwon cocked her head, leaning against the railing at the top of the stairs. “You should’ve been told this in training… No, there isn’t a way to ‘undo’ a match. We aren’t even matching them, just reporting on what the computer says. All the reports do is trigger the strings. The two people are soulmates regardless of the computer. We just intervene so they can find each other.”

You gulped and nodded. “Of course. I knew that… I… I don’t know. Thank you, Ms. Kwon.”

“Another brain itch?”

“Yeah, I guess,” you forced out a couple of chuckles to cover up the dread you felt on the inside.

“Alright. Remember, ‘The Soulmate Factory’ isn’t very accurate. We don’t make soulmates here, they’re already out there.”

“Right, yeah. Terrible nickname, huh?”

She shrugged. “It’s cute. Good for branding. I’ve got a few things to work on, unless you have any other burning questions for me?”

“No, Ms. Kwon, that’s it. Thank you, again.”

“No problem, Y/N.” And with that, she retreated into her office once more.

Dragging your feet back out to your desk at the end of the workday, you chewed on your bottom lip, contemplating pretending to have extra work so you could stay late and try to sneak onto Ms. Kwon’s computer to access the matched profiles. But her office was behind a door with swipe access, it would log that you swiped in after hours. A digital breadcrumb trail.

“Hey,” Jaemin got your attention as you sat in your chair and stared at your screen. You spun your chair around to look at him, lifting your eyebrows in a silent question. “Who was that guy?”

Your blood turned cold. “Huh? Who? When? What guy?”

“Oh now that wasn’t suspicious,” he snorted. “The guy that was waiting for you at lunch whose ass you looked like you were about to kick.”

Oh God. Jaemin saw Sungchan. Who else saw him? You had to assume everybody. You stood up from your chair hastily, fully intent on running away. “Just—Nobody, it doesn’t matter.”

Jaemin gasped, then dropped his voice, “Y/N, you didn’t...”

“Didn’t what?” You squeaked, now ready to stick around. You had to know what he knew, which was obviously the truth.

“You totally did.” He shook his head, clicking his tongue. “Never a good idea, getting involved with people who are destined, even if they don’t have their string yet. Because one day they will.”

Of course. He thought, perfectly reasonably, that you had dated, slept with, done something with somebody who was going to get their red string someday, while you would remain without it forever. You swallowed down your sigh of relief, and instead crossed your arms over your chest, quickly switching trains of thought to follow this new cover story.

“And that’s what I told him, Jaemin, I swear,” you whispered insistently.

Your friend finished up and switched off his desktop then, giving you a frank look. “How many times, Y/N?”

“I told him like a hundred times—”

“No. You know what I mean.”

You hurried down the stairs, Jaemin right with you, rolling your eyes as you tried to think of a number that wasn’t excessive, but messy enough to possibly warrant a guy turning up at your work. “I don’t know... a few! A girl’s got needs, Jaemin!”

He chuckled and shook his head again, pushing the front door open for you. He turned suddenly, grabbing you by the shoulders and spinning you around to face the building with him, then gestured grandly up and down the entirety of The Soulmate Factory. “A whole ten floors to pick from, Y/N. No messy red strings to worry about after.”

“Yeah, just awkward encounters at work,” you scoffed.

“I heard Park Jisung on the second floor thinks you’re cute.”

“What is this? Middle school?” You elbowed him to get him off of you, ducking out from under his arm and taking off towards your bus stop at a speed walk.

He easily kept pace with you. “I’m just looking out for you. Rule Number 1 of dating with no soulmate: Stay away from people with one.”

“Uh-huh, noted,” you replied shortly. “You done?”

“Are you?”

“Yes! God!”

“Alright.” He was still grinning, clearly finding the whole scenario amusing overall. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Bye, Jaemin.”

A couple nights later found you rooting through the frozen section of a corner store. You’d gotten home from work after yet another day of getting nowhere with this stupid red string and had wanted nothing more than to wallow in misery with a pint of ice cream. Except you had none in your freezer, and your usual corner store was out of your favorite flavor, so you had to go to one several blocks over.

After paying for the ice cream and grabbing a plastic spoon from the available utensils, you hurried out of the shop. Turning sharply onto a side street to take a shortcut back to your apartment, you nearly tripped over somebody sitting on the sidewalk curb, their feet in the street. They were wearing a hoodie with the hood up, and you jumped back as you went to apologize. Then they looked at you over their shoulder, and you stopped your apologies, flabbergasted and a little pissed off at the universe at this point.

“Oh my god, again?” You stared at Sungchan, eyes bugging out of your head.

“Okay, ouch,” he retorted. He had his own pint of ice cream and plastic spoon in hand, about two-thirds of the way done.

“Sorry, I was just… I wanted to drown my sorrowsin ice cream alone.”

He turned away from you, resting his arms on his knees as he went back to looking down at the pavement. “Well, I’ve got dibs on this street corner for sadly eating ice cream.”

You winced. “Sungchan… I’m…”

Sorry? Was that it? Not for wanting to undo the string. Sorry that this all happened to him in the first place, and that he was now sadly eating ice cream by himself on a street corner? Absolutely. Even though you wanted to remove your red string that connected you two as soulmates, you still felt for the guy as a person, and you felt bad just leaving him here. In a different set of circumstances, you could see the two of you being friends. Against your better judgment, you sat down next to him on the curb, opening your pint of ice cream. He looked at you suspiciously out of the corner of his eye, and you caught a glimpse of his damp, bloodshot eyes in the light of the streetlamp above you two before he focused them back down on his own ice cream.

He shoveled a spoonful into his mouth before speaking again. “We’re going to keep running into each other, don’t you get that?”

“Yeah, I know, the string always gets tighter again. But I didn’t think our string would be like a fucking rubber band.” You shook your head, licking the lid of your container clean. “Honestly, this is kind of ridiculous.”

There was a moment of awkward silence as he ate another bite of ice cream.

“The computer doesn’t make mistakes.” He stated bluntly. “That’s what you said the second time we met. Do you actually think that? That what goes on in there is making soulmates? Finding them? Whatever.”

“I-I mean, yeah.” You carefully carved out your first spoonful from the pristine surface. “We do analytics and data gathering post-matching and… yeah, it works.”

He was quiet as you took your bite of ice cream into your mouth.

“Then we’re soulmates.”

You couldn’t swallow quickly enough, mind reeling at you tried to think of anything to say. “But my profile—”

“Whatever may have happened before the computer got our data doesn’t fucking matter, it still did all the same stuff that it does when giving you all the matches that you read,” Sungchan cut you off, and you saw a fresh tear catch the light as it rolled down his cheek. “And it figured that we were soulmates. But suddenly you’re doubting it? Suddenly it’s not right? What’s so fucking special about you?”

“I…”

“Has somebody’s profile even been through the computer twice? Ever? And you want to just stick me back in there. What if it rejects me because it already processed me once? What if I don’t get another match? What if it breaks the whole damn program? The whole fucking Factory?” He wasn’t yelling, but his voice was strong and hoarse at the same time, and you froze up as you felt the anger and hurt in him.

You didn’t have an answer for him. You always had an answer. You always knew, at work, when reading the matches, you just always knew, but you didn’t now. You had nothing, it was all blank, empty in your mind. You swallowed thickly, staring at him as he looked over at you furiously. White hot shame and guilt made your skin prickle.

“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly.

Sungchan put his pint down on the pavement, then covered your hands with his. Even as you held onto your ice cream, you could feel that his skin was colder than yours. “I’m trying to understand you, Y/N, but this isn’t making any sense to me.”

“I thought I’d have a choice,” you told him shakily, slowly pulling your hands away. “I thought I’d be able to choose…”

He blinked, and his face twisted up with pain as he took his hands back. He grabbed his nearly empty carton, standing up and blotting out the lamp light as he towered over you.

“Trust me, you’ve got a choice. A big one.” He sighed bitterly, tossing his container in a nearby trash can. “I’ve said my piece. Goodnight.”

“Where are you going?” You called after him as he started down the sidewalk.

“Somewhere. When you’re ready, you know how to find me.” He lifted his left arm up and waved his hand, his end of the red string fluttering back and forth in the air with the movement.

You watched him continue to walk down the street, not slowing down or looking over his shoulder once. It was only when you could no longer see him that scalding tears welled up in your vision and stung your eyes. You didn’t bother wiping them away as they streamed down your face and fell onto your shirt, leaving dark patches in their wake. Despite the ice cream being your original intent for coming out, you suddenly didn’t have an appetite, burying your face in your arms to cry alone on the curb.

What’s so fucking special about you?

Sungchan’s words were still in the squeal of the bus brakes in the morning, and the hum of strangers’ conversations, and the shuffle of leaves as the wind shook tree branches. You stared at the grooves of the hardwood floor in the breakroom, hearing his voice in the gurgle of the coffee machine as it ran on the counter behind you. You didn’t even need your usual morning cup, still wide awake, as you had been all night. Fingers snapped in front of your eyes, and you lazily dragged your gaze up to the owner of the hand, Renjun.

“You look like shit,” he deadpanned.

You took a long, deep sigh, not even having enough in you to react to the comment as you usually would. “Do you ever think about your soulmate, Renjun?”

“Uh… no?” He lifted an eyebrow. “Because I don’t have one? Remember?”

“I know, Factory employees get taken out of the program. But doesn’t that mean that the computer is really working with incomplete data or whatever? Since it doesn’t actually have every single person in there?”

He crossed his arms over his chest as he seemed to think about this for a moment. “I guess.”

“If we were all in there, we’d get matched up with somebody. Our soulmate. We’re not all in there, but whoever we would be matched with still is. So they just… get their second-best match?”

“What is it that matchmaking lady always says? ‘The computer does more than we’ll ever know?’”

“Ms. Kwon?”

“Yeah, her.” He nodded, turning around to get his cereal down from the cabinet. He answered your question over his shoulder, “No, I’ve never thought about this, Y/N. But you have clearly been doing a lot of thinking about it.”

“Too much,” you groaned. “My head hurts.”

Your coworker’s voice was a bit softer as he offered, “You, me, and Jaemin—Drinks after work?”

After work you ended up on a rooftop bar with Jaemin and Renjun, nursing your second beer of the night as you stared out at the lights of the city. The two of them were chatting about some movie that was coming out this weekend that they were interested in, and all three of you had your feet kicked up on the ledge of the rooftop.

In a lull in their conversation, a finger poked your head from the left. “What’s wrong?” Jaemin asked.

You sighed. “It’s… ugh.”

Another finger poked the right side of your head. “Come on,” Renjun insisted. “You’ve been weird all week.”

You took a swig of your drink, then let out another deep sigh. “Why did you guys start working at the Factory?”

“What?” Renjun scoffed lightly, as if he couldn’t imagine why you’d even ask that.

“Why did you start working at the Factory?” You repeated. “I mean, accepting a life without a soulmate.”

“My parents met at the Factory, actually,” Jaemin said.

“Wait, really?” You turned to him curiously. You knew that Factory employees dating each other wasn’t off-limits, and theoretically that meant they could settle down and have lives sort of like soulmates, but you’d never heard much about it actually happening.

“Yeah, they weren’t soulmates. So it was one of those things where, I don’t know, I got to grow up knowing that there was another way to live.” Jaemin shrugged casually. “I didn’t even really think about the no-soulmate thing when I applied, they just always talked about how much they loved their jobs, it sounded like a cool place to work.”

“I applied at a bunch of different places, this is the first one that called me back,” Renjun gave his own answer.

“Why did you start working here?” Jaemin turned your question back on you.

You tapped your fingernail against the side of your bottle. “Pay’s not bad… And I didn’t… hate the idea of having a say in my love life, you know? Instead of this string showing up one day and telling me who I’m supposed to be with forever. Getting to choose on my own.”

“Sounds like you don’t think the computer knows what it’s doing,” Renjun snorted.

“No, it does! It does! I just… didn’t mind the idea of never knowing.”

Jaemin furrowed his brow curiously. “What do you mean?”

“Like… I can wake up tomorrow and have cereal, or eggs, or buy breakfast on my way into work. There could be someone new on my bus in the morning. I can get a haircut, or dye my hair. It could rain tomorrow, or be sunny, or overcast. Life is always in flux, always changing, new, different.”

“Knowing who your soulmate is, would be too… certain?”

“Some people like having that constant in their life,” Renjun pointed out. “Or so I’ve heard.”

“I don’t know, like what if you get your soulmate and they kind of suck? Then you kind of have to ask yourself what did you do to deserve someone who kind of sucks? Because that’s literally the best you can do,” you ranted, gesturing around to the night sky with your bottle. “At least without a string, there’s always a chance that there’s someone better out there.”

“Ah, you’ve got the Boy Scout mindset,” Jaemin said knowingly. “Just in case. Just in case it rains, I’ll bring an umbrella. Just in case whoever you’re seeing now kind of sucks, you can always try again.”

You crossed your arms defensively. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, since you don’t have a string.”

“Very polite way to say she has commitment issues, Jaemin,” Renjun snickered.

“Rude!” You smacked his arm with the back of your hand.

He wasn’t dissuaded by your minor battery, however. Bringing his two feet back down to the ground, he leaned his elbows forward on his knees and looked over at you, “Sounds like to me, you want infinite second chances. Just in case.”

“There’s only so many of us at the Factory, really,” Jaemin pointed out. “Wouldn’t a soulmate actually be infinite second chances? Since you know you’re destined to be with them, you can kind of mess up as often as you want?”

You frowned, thinking of Sungchan walking away from you. “You really think so? I mean, they’re still a person. Wouldn’t they stop putting up with you after so long? Even if they were your soulmate, I’m sure being alone would be better than having a shit soulmate.”

“Well, then you have to ask: What is a soulmate? Just the best you can do? Or someone who’s going to make you better? Is there such a thing as a shit soulmate?”

“There has to be, right? There’s bad people, and those people have soulmates.”

“Are they bad forever? Are they bad people to their soulmates? Or do they also have shit people for soulmates? So, relative to each other, they don’t even realize that they have a shit soulmate?”

“My head hurts again…” You groaned, pressing the heels of your palms against your temples.

A long silence passed as you three each finished off your beers. Renjun shrugged and leaned back in his chair with a satisfied grunt. “Thank God we’ll never know, huh?”

Your Saturday was spent walking. Walking all over town, from your apartment to your bus stop, to the park where Sungchan had been playing Frisbee before, to the corner store where you’d last seen him, and everywhere in between. You kept your head on a swivel, straining for any sign of his tall head over the crowd. But you couldn’t see him anywhere.

When you finally gave up mid-afternoon and went back to your apartment for a late lunch, you knew that you were actually relieved that you hadn’t found him today. If you had ran into him, you didn’t even know what you’d say, where to start, where to end, what to say in the middle. Your head was a jumbled mess, simultaneously too full and too empty. There was no way you’d be able to articulate a single comprehensible word when you yourself didn’t know a shred about anything that you were thinking or feeling.

Sunday you were kept busy with Sungchan’s lingering question. What’s so special about you?

In the moment, it felt like he was asking why you thought you were special enough to be exempt from something that everyone else experienced: getting a red string and finding their soulmate. But as you went about mindless chores in your apartment, doing the dishes, folding laundry, you thought about him.

What’s so special about Sungchan? What would make him your soulmate? And you wondered if he was asking himself the same questions about you.

Monday morning you almost missed your bus. You’d been so distracted going about your morning routine that you ran straight from your apartment building onto the bus, the doors closing right after you. The elderly couple was on today, and you plopped into your seat in front of them, offering them a breathless smile and greeting.

“Tough morning, dear?” The woman asked you knowingly.

“Oh, a bit,” you laughed. “Tough couple of weeks, honestly. But I’ll make it. What’s the new exhibit for this month?”

“It’s a contemporary artist who does large-scale mixed media collages,” the husband explained.

“That sounds so cool! Is there a particular theme for the collection on display or it more eclectic?”

“Oh, we don’t read up much before,” she said with a shake of her head. “We like to go in blind, no presuppositions or expectations, good or bad.”

You continued chatting about the museum with them until their stop to get off, and watched fondly as the man helped his wife up, the both of them bidding you farewell before departing. As the bus peeled away, you were able to glimpse them starting arm-in-arm down the sidewalk together.

After dropping your backpack in your chair, you headed towards the breakroom, where you found Jaemin hunched over something at a counter, his back to the door.

“Renjun’s cereal?” You surmised immediately.

He jumped in place, turning around clutching his chest. “Fuck! You scared the shit out of me, Y/N! Don’t sneak up on a guy like that!” He did in fact have a familiar box in his hand, clearly having been pouring some into a cup.

“I wasn’t sneaking. You just flipped out because you know you’re being a little cereal thief right now.”

He quickly closed up the box and put it away. “There. Like it never happened.”

“Why don’t you just bring your own box of cereal?”

“It just tastes better if it’s free.”

“Stolen.”

“Synonyms.” He grinned slyly, shooting you a wink as he walked out.

As you were milling about, trying to gather everything to start the first pot of coffee, Renjun entered, heading straight for where his cereal was stored. You watched out of the corner of your eye as he grabbed it, froze midair, and tested the weight of it in his hand.

“Na Jaemin…” He hissed, slamming the container onto the counter.

“Suggestion—” You announced, turning around to look at him with your arms crossed over your chest. “Keep the cereal at your desk instead of leaving it here unattended where he steals it all the time.”

“I never keep food at my desk. What if it attracts ants?”

“Padlock.”

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “You may be onto something there…”

Renjun wandered out of the room, still musing over this with the cereal box tucked under his arm. You realized you didn’t really want a cup of coffee and put the empty coffee mug away.

The weekly agenda meeting was short and sweet, and you were slow to follow the other matchmakers down the hall after. You were the very last one to swipe in, and to take your seat at your station. Everyone else was already reading their matches, but you just stared at your blank screen, not even turning it on yet. At some point, two weeks ago, someone in this room, one of your coworkers—or maybe even you—had read a match result, looked up a bunch of numbers, and submitted a match report that had changed your life forever. You listened to them clacking away at their keyboards, dozens more strangers’ lives being irreparably altered like yours was.

“Y/N?” Your name was called from across the room, and you whipped your head around to look over at Ms. Kwon, standing in the doorway of her office. She gestured for you to come over. “A moment?”

“Oh, of course, ma’am.” You rushed to stand, hurrying up the stairs and following her into her office.

She closed the door behind you, sitting back down behind her desk, and offering the chairs across from her for you. You nervously took the one closest to the door.

“Is everything alright with you?” Your supervisor asked gently. “You’ve been sitting at your station for the past fifteen minutes and haven’t turned the screen on…”

“Sorry…” You winced, self-conscious as you pictured Ms. Kwon watching you stare at a blank screen for fifteen minutes. “I’m uhm… I…”

“Have something on your mind?”

“It’s worth it, right? Giving up your soulmate to work here?”

Ms. Kwon took your question in stride, folding her hands together over her desk as she answered, “It’s good work that we do here, Y/N, don’t get me wrong. Necessary. But choosing to live without a soulmate, that’s not a noble sacrifice on our part. We’re not any better than anybody else because we choose to work here and they don’t. I don’t know a single executive here who would talk about it like that.”

You could feel all façades slip off your face, your eyes widening slightly and your mouth parting, though no sound came out.

At your apparent speechlessness, Ms. Kwon continued, “We’re not... monks or nuns taking some holy vow, Y/N. It’s morally neutral. Neither good nor bad. It just is.”

A split-second of rage burst inside you. “Then why would any of you choose it? Why would anybody go without a soulmate?”

“Why did you?” She asked you calmly.

“I... was afraid to know,” you admitted quietly.

“Everyone here is sort of like that. They have some other reason. It’s usually not a good one, but they never have to confront it. Ever.”

“So the Factory... is the easy way out?”

“Y/N, listen to the words I’m telling you: It is neither good nor bad to choose to work here. It just is.”

“Is it good to have your soulmate, then?”

“I am not the arbiter of good or bad in your life. I’m just your boss,” she replied, sounding a bit tired now. “Look, you’re very smart. That’s why you were chosen for matchmaking. But I’m urging you to stop this line of thinking here. This is how you end up—”

“I’m resigning,” you declared, and suddenly all of the noise in your mind was quiet.

“That is what I was afraid of,” she sighed. “May I ask why?”

“I… have a soulmate.”

“Of course you do.” Ms. Kwon smiled placidly. “All of us at the Factory do. But quitting now will not put your profile back in to get matched with them.”

“No, I—I was matched. Somehow, I don’t know how, but… I have a red string, Ms. Kwon.” You held up your right hand, pointing to your pinky, even though you knew she couldn’t see it. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sudden lightness of your shoulders. “I have a soulmate, and… this is just a job. It’s a good job, and I love it. But there’s other jobs. I don’t have another soulmate.”

She was quiet for a moment, simply looking at you intensely. After a moment, she reached out to hover her hands over her keyboard. “Would you mind if I took just a moment to confirm? It’ll take less than a minute.”

“Sure, go for it.”

Ms. Kwon quickly typed away and clicked a few things on her mouse as you quite literally twiddled your thumbs over your lap. Just a few seconds later, she took her glasses off, rubbing between her brows as she let out a deep sigh. “So it seems you have been…” She sat back in her chair. “Have you… found them?”

“Uhm, yes, ma’am,” you nodded awkwardly.

“This is why you were so interested in undoing matches as of late, I presume.”

“Yes… but not anymore.”

She sat there for a few more moments, eyes closed, before putting her glasses back on and sitting up straight again. “I accept your resignation, Y/N. With a heavy heart, might I add.”

“That means a lot, Ms. Kwon.”

“There will need to be an investigation.”

“I figured.”

“I expect full cooperation from both you and your soulmate.”

“Oh, uh, sure, sure.”

Ms. Kwon looked at you oddly. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“We’re not… exactly… friendly… right now…” You admitted quietly. “And it’s completely my fault…”

She let out a few soft, wistful chuckles. “He didn’t take too kindly to you attempting to ‘undo’ your string, did he?”

“No, he didn’t.” You shook your head, biting the inside of your cheek regretfully.

“The string will tighten again, Y/N,” she reassured you, her voice kind. “The computer doesn’t make mistakes.”

“Right. Thank you, Ms. Kwon.”

She cleared her throat, becoming formal and businesslike again. “Provided the investigation turns up exactly what I think it will, I’ll also write an excellent reference letter for you, if you would like.”

“What do you think the investigation will turn up?”

“A mistake. Something was misfiled. A paper was put in the wrong stack. A name left off an email. I don’t think you tampered with the program somehow to put yourself back in. Did you?”

“No, ma’am, not at all.”

“There we go.” She shrugged. “Do you have anything else for me?”

“I get my severance pay and all that, right?”

“Of course.”

You stood up, set your key card on the desk, and shook her hand before leaving her office, walking right out of the matchmaking room as the others kept at it at their stations. Making a beeline for your desk, you could see several heads of your coworkers popping up to peer at you curiously before looking back down at their computers. One remained up and focused intently on you from further down your row, Renjun.

As you stopped next to Jaemin and opened your backpack at your desk, he took his headphones off to turn to you. “Uh hey…?”

“Hi,” you replied cheerily, beginning to grab personal possessions off your desk and load them into your bag.

“What are you doing?”

At this point, Renjun had stood up from his desk and stalked over to you two, eyes wide as he took in what you were doing. “What’s going on?”

“I quit!” You informed them, not being particularly quiet about it.

“What?!” “Seriously?!”

“Seriously,” you confirmed, unplugging the receiver for your personal wireless mouse, and putting it back inside said mouse, before chucking the whole thing into your bag. “Resigned. Quit. Handed in my zero day notice.”

“Why? I thought you loved this job!” Renjun sputtered out, his hands on his hips.

“Yeah! Like, I thought you were going to be Director one day!” Jaemin nodded. “What happened?”

You looked around the wide-open bullpen, still having enough tact to not want to blab about your string in front of everybody. Zipping up your backpack and throwing one strap over your shoulder, you asked your friends innocently, “Walk me out?”

They practically dragged you down the stairs, flanking you on either side, none of you saying a word until you were outside.

“What’s going on?” Renjun demanded as soon as the front doors closed behind you. “Is it something we need to know about? Should we be looking for other jobs?”

“Did you ask for a raise or something and they wouldn’t give it to you?” Jaemin asked. “Or a promotion? Or—”

“No, it’s nothing like that. You guys are fine,” you promised them, lacing your two hands together in front of you. Taking a deep breath, you admitted, “I have a red string, and I found my soulmate.”

Their jaws dropped, and they looked at each other, flabbergasted, then at you, then each other again, then stared at you. Renjun was the first to shake himself out of his stupefied state, “How did that even—”

“I don’t know, and I don’t know how much I can even say until the Factory finishes their investigation, so…” You trailed off. “Yeah, that’s why I quit. And Ms. Kwon didn’t ask me to stay.”

Jaemin’s eyes widened comically as he pointed at you accusatorily. “The guy at lunch, was he your—”

“Yeah, that was him.” You rubbed the back of your neck nervously. “Anyway, you guys can’t say anything to anybody else at the Factory, okay? Just let management handle this however they want to. Keep your noses out of it.”

“So what are you going to do now?” Renjun asked.

“Uh… try to find him? Again?” You said sheepishly.

“You lost him?” Jaemin asked in disbelief. “Like, in a well or something? How? What?”

“We kind of had a fight… Let’s just say the ball’s in my court, and I don’t know how to play.”

He patted you on the back. “You’ve got this, Y/N.”

“Thanks,” you nodded to him gratefully. “I should let you two get back to work now. Thank you both, again, for being the best work buddies a girl could ask for.”

“Hey, don’t talk like you’re going off and dying,” Renjun scoffed, poking the right side of your head.

“Yeah, we’re your real buddies, too.” Jaemin poked the left side of your head. “I still owe you your book.”

“You two have got to make sure you don’t kill each other over cereal in the mornings on your own now. I won’t be there to referee,” you warned as you took a step back, facing them.

“As long as Jaemin keeps his grubby mitts to himself, no problem.” Renjun nodded.

Jaemin grinned. “No promises.”

You laughed, going in to give each of them a hug. “Bye, guys. I’ll see you around.”

And you proceeded to walk. From the riverside park near the Factory, to the curb where you’d eaten ice cream together, to your favorite bookstore. You walked until your feet ached and your stomach growled, and even after that. You found new parts of the city that you’d never seen, never had any reason to go to before. As you came up to a street of small shops, you peered into each window carefully as you passed by. Your feet skidded to a stop all on their own and your heart leapt to your throat as you inadvertently made eye contact with a patron right on the other side of the glass of one store. The exact person you’d been looking for.

While Sungchan froze in place, you ran for the entrance to the shop, throwing open the door and ducking around shelves and displays to find him still glued to the same spot, staring out the window at the pavement where you used to be. You grabbed his left hand with your right, watching the string complete itself, and pulled him around to face you.

“Sungchan!” You said his name breathlessly, a relieved smile on your face. “Found you!”

“Y/N…” His voice was guarded, uncertain, gaze trailing over your red jumpsuit that you were still in. “Are you… on your lunch break?”

“No, I uh, I resigned this morning,” you told him, not an ounce of remorse in your tone.

His eyes widened, and his demeanor immediately changed as he looked down at you with concern. “What? You didn’t have to—Y/N, what happened? Oh my god, what are you going to do?”

A throat was very conspicuously cleared from nearby, and you snapped your head over in the direction of it, spotting a group of several guys leaning against shelves further down the store, a few trying to look busy and not like they had just been listening to your conversation. One stood at the front of them, looking directly at Sungchan.

“Oh, sorry, guys,” Sungchan waved them off. “Go on without me, okay?”

And with that, he set down the merchandise he had been browsing—which you were now seeing was a stack of old magazines; it looked as though you were in a thrift store of some kind—and pulled you out the door by the hand. Just a little ways down the street was a bench overlooking the river, and the two of you stopped there.

“I wouldn’t have been able to keep working there with a red string, Sungchan,” you explained. “If I didn’t resign, I would’ve been fired whenever they found out. I wanted to tell them myself.”

He frowned. “When I said you had a choice…”

“I chose to keep the string, and stop looking for a way to undo it. I know that’s what you were asking me.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask…” he sighed. “What made you change your mind?”

“A lot of different things, but… I think realizing that I’m not that special.”

“Y/N, I—”

“No, I mean, I kind of had this complex about working at the Factory. Thinking that it was some sacrifice for the greater good, me giving up my soulmate so I could help other people find theirs. But like… it was just a job.” You laughed at how ridiculous that sounded now, even just a few hours after resigning.

Sungchan smiled a little at that, but still looked pensive. “So what are you going to do for work now?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly, but couldn’t keep the giddy grin off your face. “That’s really scary… but it’s kind of exciting, in a weird way, right? I’ve had the same job since I got out of school, and now I can do anything.”

“We’ll find you a job. That’s like, Priority One, okay?” He reassured you. “We’ll do some brainstorming, find some job listings, we’ll figure something out.”

“We?”

“Yeah?” He said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m not leaving you out to dry after all this.”

“Thanks, Sungchan.” You fidgeted with your fingers, eyes gracing over the finished red string again. “And uh, if that’s Priority One, then Priority Two is probably going to have to be the investigation.”

“The what?”

“The Bureau has to investigate how this even happened, our match. Me resigning was just the beginning, not the end. They’re expecting our full cooperation.”

“What are we going to have to cooperate with, exactly?” He crossed his arms.

“They’ll probably just want to ask us some questions. Me more than you, since I’m the one who actually worked there. Ms. Kwon—my old boss—made it sound like it’d be more a formality than anything else. I’m sure they’re already auditing all my match reports for the past two years, and looking through my key card log, and going through my computer as we speak.”

“Alright, yeah. Fine.”

With his agreement, the two of you were quiet for a moment, and you felt an air of uncertainty. You’d found each other, you were soulmates, you weren’t trying to undo your string anymore, and yet you were still practically strangers. Where did you go from here?

“So… what’s your favorite color?” You asked.

“What?” He blinked, seeming confused at the sudden change in topic.

“I don’t know anything about you…” You said quietly, feeling your skin get warm with embarrassment. “I don’t know, that’s just the first thing that came to mind. Forget it, it was stupid.”

He chuckled and answered anyway, “Purple. My favorite color is purple.”

“Oh. Cool.”

“What’s yours?”

“Pink. Uh, cotton candy pink, specifically.”

“That’s good. That’s really good.” He was still laughing, more than your awkward question warranted.

“Okay, what’s so funny? Other than me being stupid.”

“No, I’m not laughing at you, it’s just…” He reassured you, trailing off as he seemed to be trying to put his thoughts together. “There’re all these books, and magazine articles and stuff, you know. 15 Things to Not Do When You Meet Your Soulmate. 10 Best Opening Lines for Meeting the One. I Met My Soulmate and It’s Awkward: Now What? How to Get Over First Meeting Flutters. And you’re nothing like that. You’ve probably never even read anything of that sort of stuff, have you?”

“No…” You shook your head, then squinted at him suspiciously. “Have you?”

He held his hands up defensively. “Well, call it morbid curiosity—”

You couldn’t help but giggle, attempting to cover it with your hand, having the perfect image of him lying on his bed on his stomach, legs kicking up behind him as he scrolled on his phone late at night reading cheesy internet columns about love.

“And that’s funny, yeah, okay. I didn’t fool you with the… yeah.” Sungchan laughed again, this time at himself, and you were quickly starting to think that it might be your favorite sound.

“It’s cute, it’s cute!” You promised. “I’m uhm, sure me running away really threw a wrench in whatever great opening line you had planned.”

“Yes and no.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You were really pretty, and when I looked at you, I suddenly forgot every word I knew. And then you ran away, and I was just confused at how I had messed it up before opening my mouth.”

Your body burned on the inside and outside twofold from him simultaneously saying you were so pretty it made him speechless, and also the shame at how stupendously you had fucked up your first meeting. You squeezed your eyes shut, covered your face with both hands, and shook your head as you groaned out an apology, “Oh god, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine, really— Helped snap me out of it, you know?” He chuckled, and you were glad he could at least see some humor in it now. “Looking back now, completely understandable for you to do that. Sorry again for chasing you through the streets, I’m sure that didn’t help.”

“Also understandable on your part,” you said. Before you could scramble for another thing to ask Sungchan, your stomach rumbled loudly, and you cringed, knowing full well that he had definitely been able to hear that. “Sorry…”

“I was supposed to grab food with the guys anyway.” Sungchan stood up. “Let’s get you something to eat, hm?”

You followed him to a small café a couple streets away, and after grabbing your food, you two sat at a table outside. “So what do you do? For work? Or are you a student? You know quite a bit about my old job, but…”

“Oh, I’m an artist.”

“What kind? Like, what medium? Is that the right way to ask that? I guess I’m asking what kind of stuff you make?”

“Don’t worry, those were all good questions. Different questions, but good.” He smiled warmly, taking a sip of his drink before answering. “I mostly focus on making mixed media collages. Sometimes I source my materials from other places, but sometimes I make it myself. Take my own pictures, paint it myself, put the clay on myself. Just depends. So I work with a lot of different materials and mediums, too.”

“Oh!” You immediately thought of the couple you talked to on the bus that morning. “You should totally check out the art museum on 2nd this month! I heard they have an exhibit showcasing mixed media collages. I haven’t been, but there’s this couple on my bus in the mornings who goes every month, they told me about it today.”

“Did they say the artist?” He asked mildly, picking at his food with his utensil.

“No, they don’t do any research before, they like to go in blind.”

“Yeah, uhm, that’s my exhibit,” he practically whispered the last two words behind a napkin as he wiped his mouth with it, looking down at his plate. His ears were bright red, and he grabbed his drink to take another long sip.

Your eyes widened. “Wait really?”

“I understand if you think I’m lying, it’s on the exhibit webpage on the museum website, but yeah…”

“Sungchan, that’s so cool!” You exclaimed, even as you brought out your phone to bring up the website. Not because you didn’t believe him, but just because reading the headline of how the museum was proud to feature ‘New Local Artist Jung Sungchan’ in an exclusive exhibit was practically surreal. He, however, still couldn’t seem to meet your eyes. “Why do you look like you want to die?”

“I didn’t want to use my real name, but my… manager thought it would be a good idea. And obviously I had to tell you.” He rubbed a hand over his face, making everything from his forehead to his neck pink. “I just hate people looking at my art and thinking they know me. They can look at my art all I want, project onto it, feel from it, call it stupid, say they could have done better, I don’t care, I just don’t want them to know it’s mine and think they know me because of it.”

“Who’s your manager that made you use your real name? Don’t artists use pseudonyms sometimes?”

“My sister’s husband. He’s good at his job, and he’s done a lot for me. I’m really thankful for him, honestly. It was more like when I was first starting out, he thought that using a pseudonym would make me seem sort of pretentious. People would like a regular guy a lot more.” Sungchan sighed. “I agreed, and have regretted that decision with every art show I’ve attended since.”

You nodded slowly, tapping your fingers on the tabletop in a rhythm as you thought. “So… why do you think you make art, then?”

“I have to,” he shrugged. “Not making art would be worse. People connecting with my art… I like that. But I don’t like when they try to assume things about me because of my art. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, it does,” you assured him. “Death of the collagist.”

His face cracked into a grin. “Exactly.”

“Would you mind if I went to your exhibit sometime?” You asked. “You totally don’t have to come, I’m sure that’d be weird for you. But I’d like to go see it, and not make any assumptions about you at all.”

“It’s a public museum, I can’t stop you from going.”

“Well, yes… I don’t know, it’s still your art, and I’m not just a member of the public, am I?”

Sungchan’s eyes held a softness as he looked at you across the table, and he shook his head. “No, you’re not just a member of the public to me.”

“And you’re not just some random artist to me,” you responded.

“I wouldn’t mind if you went, on one condition.”

“Mm?” You prompted, expecting it to be something along the lines of ‘don’t tell me what you think’ or ‘don’t ever mention it to me.’ Nothing at all in the realm of what he actually requested.

“I go with you.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Wait really?”

“Really.”

“Okay, yeah, of course!”

“Then it’s a date.”

You nodded, suddenly feeling shy at him calling it a date, turning your eyes back down to your food. “Yeah, okay. A date.”

You ended up spending the whole day with Sungchan, just getting to know each other. And browsing online job listings for you—turns out he wasn’t kidding about that being Priority One.

He used revising your résumé as an opportunity to learn more about you. Education—Oh where did you go to school? What did you study? Which devolved into you two telling stories about classes you liked, professors and teachers you loved and hated, and old school friends. Work Experience—So what actually was your official title? What were your job responsibilities? Which led to you fondly reminiscing in your times at the office with Jaemin and Renjun, talking about your training to be a Systems Analytics Specialist, and his disbelief in how exactly you even did your job. It was when you got to the Skills portion that you balked a little bit. It felt like your only skills were specific to the Factory: reading the matches from the computer, inputting match reports, keeping Renjun from killing Jaemin over a box of cereal. Sungchan helped you get a bit creative with your technological experience, creative thinking, quick learning, and conflict resolution skills.

As he walked you back to your apartment after getting dinner together, you were still asking him your never-ending stream of questions. “So what were you supposed to be doing with your friends today?”

“I was collecting.” He craned his neck up, and you followed his line of vision to look up at the few specks of light in the sky that you could see against the brightness of the city. “Gathering materials for collages. Thrift stores are pretty good for old magazines, books, newspapers, photo albums, all kinds of stuff. The guys were tagging along, they wanted to get lunch and do some shopping too.”

“Oh. Sorry for taking you away from them.”

He gave you a funny look. “No.”

“What?”

“No, you’re not going to apologize for that.”

You blinked at him in confusion. “Uh… I think I already did?”

He stopped you two in the middle of the sidewalk, devoid of other pedestrians, holding your eye contact very seriously. “Thank you for finding me today.”

“Oh,” you chuckled nervously. “You’re welcome. Thank you for… everything else about today. The look on your face when I found you—I was sort of afraid that you were going to run this time.”

He laughed, continuing to walk again. “Did I really look like that?”

“Through the window, yeah. When I came in the shop, though, it was more like… you thought you were dreaming. Like you were going to pinch yourself at any moment, just in case. Or you thought I was pranking you.”

“Well, you’ll have to understand why I didn’t want to get my hopes up too high; all our previous meetings didn’t quite have fairytale endings.”

“No, they didn’t,” you agreed.

“But this time felt different. So I let myself be a little hopeful,” he admitted with a grin, nudging your arm with his. “And I was right.”

“How’d you figure that?”

“You didn’t act like finding me was a terrible inconvenience, first.”

You winced. “Mm-mhm.”

“And the smile on your face when you ran in and grabbed my hand.”

“What about it?”

“I’d never seen you smile before that.” He then added a teasing, “I didn’t know if you could.”

“Hey! I wasn’t that bad.”

He snickered, affectionately bumping his elbow against yours again. You rolled your eyes, smiling as you elbowed him back. You arrived at the main entry to your building soon, and you stopped there to say goodbye to Sungchan. He looked between the door that you were standing in front of, and the familiar bus stop just a few meters down the road, well within view.

“Oh wow, it must have really freaked you out when I jogged by your stop, huh?” He commented, scratching the back of his head.

“Yeah, you can imagine the ‘ready to fistfight the divine universe’ energy I had in my body at that point.”

He laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Pretty sure I witnessed some of it, too.”

You looked longingly at the bus stop, holding yourself, and sighed. “It’s going to be weird not getting up and going to work tomorrow.”

“So what are you going to do tomorrow? With no work?”

You passed a bubble side to side in your mouth as you thought, then shrugged. “Sleep in?”

“Great way to start the day.”

“And then… send my résumé to some of those places we found?”

“That’s a good idea.”

“Probably read outside somewhere if it’s a nice day?”

“Ooh, sounds nice.”

You dug your toe into the ground. “I don’t know, what are you doing?”

“Sleep in, and I promised Shotaro I’d help him with this thing, but then… if you don’t mind the company, I think reading outside sounds pretty lovely?”

“What are you helping Shotaro with?”

“Taking Instagram pictures.”

You let out a short round of giggles. “I’d like to spend time with you tomorrow too, Sungchan. Just let me know when you’re done helping Shotaro with that thing.”

“It’ll be the quickest photoshoot he’s ever done in his life.”

“No, still do it right!”

“It’ll be right, just quick.”

You shook your head disapprovingly, but the fond smile on your face very obviously negated that sentiment. “Goodnight, Sungchan.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

And with that, you unlocked your building door and gave him one last wave over your shoulder before closing and locking it back up behind you. Alone in the stairwell, you let out a sigh of contentment.

The next morning, you slept in on a Tuesday for the first time in a while and didn’t put on your red jumpsuit after getting out of bed. Instead, you shuffled out to your kitchen and made yourself breakfast, which you slowly enjoyed with a cup of tea. After taking your sweet time in a nice hot shower, you got into a t-shirt and pants, and sat on your couch to start sending in applications to new jobs. As you typed on your laptop, you’d catch the occasional flash of the red loop around your pinky finger, but instead of filling you with you dread or apprehension, it now made you smile a bit, and push on with your task, knowing you had someone right there in your corner just on the other end of that string. After a couple hours of filling out applications, searching through more prospective job listings, and finding a few new ones that had been posted since you and Sungchan looked yesterday, you deemed that to be plenty for your first morning of job hunting. It was nearly lunchtime, and you hadn’t left your apartment yet. Looking outside, you saw that it was sunny, with a few passing clouds creating occasional patches of shadow, and breezes gently rustled the leaves on the trees. A perfectly lovely day.

Gathering up a couple books, you packed a light going-out bag, then headed out. As you passed your bus stop, you thought of the regulars on your morning commute, and wondered if they noticed your disappearance this morning, and if they thought anything of it, like you thought of the primary school teacher sometimes. You hoped the sisters got to school okay, and that the elderly couple liked Sungchan’s exhibit, and even that the office workers who you had never spoken to had good days at work—not too terribly stressful. As you had just arrived at your destination and picked out the perfect spot to read, your phone buzzed with a text.

[sungchan: done! with a satisfied customer, might i add]

[you: oh good! i’m done with my applications for the morning too! out reading right now]

You sent your location, then took your book out as there was another buzz.

[sungchan: omw :) ]

You were so caught up in the chapter you were reading that you didn’t realize Sungchan had arrived until he set his bag down next to you. You jumped a little bit, closing the book on your thumb as you clutched your hand over your heart, which was now beating wildly out of rhythm.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to give you a scare.” Sungchan didn’t look that sorry, as he had a clearly amused smirk on his face as he looked down at you. “I did call your name.”

“It’s alright, sorry I didn’t hear you.” You waved off his apology, then nodded to the spot beside you for him to sit down. “Lovely day out, huh?”

“It is,” he agreed, stretching out his long legs as he settled in against the large tree trunk. He reached into his bag, and you looked with intrigue at what book he was going to read for today.

You perked up with interest as you recognized the cover immediately. “Oh, I’ve been wanting to read that book! I love that author. Just haven’t picked it up yet.”

“Yeah it uhm—” he cleared his throat awkwardly. “It was the book you were looking at when we met. The one you dropped.”

“You…”

“I didn’t know how long it was going to be until the next time I saw you, so I went back and bought it. You know, sort of hoping I could learn something about you in the meantime.”

“And in the meantime, I was scheming to undo our string…” You muttered, eyes falling to your lap.

“Which you, no offense, failed at,” he clicked his tongue and elbowed you teasingly. “I’ll speedread so you can borrow it after me, okay?”

“No, read it right! That author’s so good, you’ll miss stuff!”

“I’ll read it carefully! Just also super fast.”

“Those are literally antonyms when it comes to reading!” You insisted.

“You’ve never seen me speedread then.”

You smacked your open book over your face, despite knowing that he was joking. “Oh my god…”

Two weeks later, and you and Sungchan were going to The Soulmate Factory for your interviews. You were sort of surprised it had taken them this long to talk to you, but at the same time, that it was happening this quickly. It felt weird going to the Factory not in your jumpsuit, but you knew that would’ve been possibly the worst choice. So you instead put on something nice, presentable, but not overly formal. After all, it wasn’t your job interview again. Sungchan was wearing a button-up shirt, a stark contrast to the rather casual attire you’d always seen him in before. As the two of you entered the lobby of the Factory, you could see him looking around at everything with an air of suspicion.

You stopped at the front desk, giving the attendant a polite smile and starting to introduce yourself, despite having just been colleagues a few weeks ago, “Hi, uhm Y/L/N Y/N and Jung Sungchan, here for a 9:00 appointment with Ms. Kwon?”

“Of course,” she nodded, looking between you and Sungchan with a strained smile of her own. “You… two can have a seat. I’ll let her know you’re here.”

Leading Sungchan over to sit on a settee nearby, you looked around, taking a few deep breaths as your knee bounced up and down nervously on its own. You had gotten the two of you here fifteen minutes early, so you already knew that you’d be waiting for some time.

“Why did she say it like that?” He hissed to you under his breath.

“Say what?” You whispered back, looking at her out of the corner of your eye to see if she was listening, but it looked like she was taking an incoming call.

“You two can have a seat.” He repeated snidely. “And the way she looked at us? Looked at you? Like we’re the weird ones for being soulmates?”

“I told you, Sungchan, there’s a reason Bureau employees don’t get soulmates. People will think I rigged it somehow. Even other employees.”

“You said it was impossible for you to have messed with it. Shouldn’t they of all people know that?”

“Well, with me being a matchmaker…” You tried to think of how to succinctly sum this up without telling Sungchan too much stuff that he wasn’t supposed to know right before his interview. “Even other Bureau employees don’t know what goes on in the matchmaking room. I’m sure there’s been rumors since I’ve left.”

“But you didn’t do anything. What’s the point of working here if you’re just as bad as the people who don’t?”

“They also probably think that when this gets out I’m going to give the Bureau and the employees here a bad rep, make the public distrust them for a while. Even the employees that don’t think I did anything will probably hate me at least a little for that.”

“Well I still don’t like it,” he huffed, resting an arm along the back of the furniture behind you.

“You’re allowed to not like it. I’m just saying there’s not much we can do about it.”

He proceeded to focus his hater energy on making comments about the décor being tacky, and you couldn’t help but giggle quietly and join in. You never really thought about it much before, but being called The Soulmate Factory and having a color palette of red, pink, and white was a bit much. You two also had a small game of how many “subtle” red lines you could find in the designs of decorative throw pillows, rugs, carpeting, and pieces of abstract art on the walls. Finally, you heard footsteps coming down the stairs, and looked up to see a somewhat familiar face. It wasn’t Ms. Kwon, as you had hoped for, but Lee Jeno, one of the executive assistants that you often saw when he was sent down from the ninth floor on important errands by his bosses.

“Jung Sungchan?” He called, looking directly at Sungchan.

“Yeah, that’s me.” He lifted his hand that had been resting on his leg between pointing out tacky décor. He ushered you up with him with the hand that was behind you on the couch. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

“Sorry, just Mr. Jung right now,” Jeno clarified with a slight wince.

Sungchan looked like he was about to argue, but you patted his arm reassuringly. “It’ll be fine, Sungchan. I’ll see you in a bit, okay?”

He sighed, giving your shoulder a squeeze. “Alright, fine. I’ll be back soon.”

“Be good.”

“Always am.”

You watched him follow Jeno up the stairs, Sungchan casting you one last glance over his shoulder before the two of them fully disappeared from your view. It was then that you finally sat back down, and started chewing on your thumbnail.

Only fifteen minutes later Jeno came back down the stairs. Alone. “Y/N?” He addressed you more casually.

You stood up and didn’t hide the concern on your face as you looked around behind him. “Where’s Sungchan?”

“Mr. Jung has been moved to another waiting room. You’ll see him after your interview.”

Letting out a breath, you tried really hard not to shoot the messenger as you responded. “Fine. Lead the way, Jeno.”

The fact that you were going up the stairs and not to the elevator was interesting. You must not be going to his bosses’ floor, unless they wanted you to collapse on your way there.

“It’s good to see you again, by the way,” your former coworker said quietly. “I had to hand-deliver a memo to Ms. Kwon the other day and the matchmaking room was weirdly empty without you at your station.”

“Thanks.” A smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. “I wouldn’t have even noticed your presence if I was there but… it’s nice to know that someone noticed my absence.”

“Well, we did our intro training together. You don’t forget those people.”

“No, you don’t,” you agreed. “Us, Jaemin, Renjun, Donghyuck in Budgeting.”

“Is it nice? Your life now? Don’t tell me anything specific, I can’t know.”

You laughed. “I haven’t lived much of it, honestly. I’ve only been gone a few weeks.”

“That’s true. There’s just been so much that’s happened, it feels like a lifetime.”

“Yeah, it does.”

“But has it been good at least? Overall, you think?”

“Yeah, it’s good, Jeno. He’s good.”

“Of course he is. The computer never makes mistakes.” And with that, the two of you stopped in front of a conference room on the second floor. He nodded politely to you. “This is where I leave you. If I don’t see you again, I wish you the best, Y/N. With everything.”

“Thank you. Bye, Jeno.” You smiled at him, knocking on the door as he pivoted on his heel and walked down the hall.

“Come in.” Came a familiar voice from within. Opening the door, you saw two figures stand up from the small conference table. Ms. Kwon, and a man who wasn’t familiar to you at all.

“Y/N, hello,” Ms. Kwon nodded to you. She didn’t even let you open your mouth to greet her back, gesturing to the man with her. “I’m not sure if you ever had the pleasure to meet AD Yang of Risk Management while you were here.”

And in one curt sentence, she had told you everything you needed to know about the situation: This was the assistant director of the risk management department at the Bureau, aka the legal department, which meant that this was serious serious, this would not be some quick interview to check off boxes, and she had only been let in because of her job title and as a professional courtesy to her, she wouldn’t be in control of the processions. But most importantly—she was on your side, for whatever that was worth. And honestly, it was worth a lot to keeping your composure as you turned to face the man.

AD Yang was deceptively young, you wouldn’t have pinned him as being as high up in the Bureau as he was just by looking at him. He only looked to be maybe ten years older than you, not a touch of grey in his pristine black hair, and only a hint of the beginning of worry lines on his forehead. He wore a suit, as all Bureau Executives did—it was only the lower level workers like you who wore the red jumpsuits—though his looked just a little too big on him, and his red tie was a little loose and slightly crooked, as if he still hadn’t mastered tying it yet. Both these things only aided in making him look younger and inexperienced. But the air of caution Ms. Kwon had about the whole situation immediately let you know not to underestimate him. You were thinking maybe his dress choices were intentional, so people would do exactly that, let their guards down around him.

AD Yang offered you a practically boyish smile as he held out his hand across the table, which your former supervisor hadn’t even done. You gingerly shook it as he introduced himself. “Please, just Mr. Yang is fine. Ms. Kwon is always so formal, you know. And I’ll call you Ms. Y/L/N, so we’re all on the same level here.”

You nodded.

“I don’t think we ever did have the pleasure to meet, Ms. Y/L/N,” Mr. Yang kept talking, his tone conversational. He then said as if it were a joke, “People usually only see me when they’re in serious trouble, you know?” He laughed, the only one to, then reassured you, “That isn’t what’s happening here, don’t worry. We’re just going to ask you a few questions, then you and Mr. Jung can head on out and off to your new life together, okay?”

You nodded.

“So, why don’t we sit, hm?”

The three of you took your seats, the two of them on one side of the conference table, you on the other. Mr. Yang took a moment to shuffle his papers, then smacked his hand to his forehead as if he’d suddenly remembered something. “I’m sorry, would you like some water, Ms. Y/L/N?”

“No, thank you.”

“Alright, let’s get started then.” He reached for a small device in the middle of the table. “I’ll be needing to record this conversation. Is that alright, Ms. Y/L/N?”

“Sure, yeah.” Not like you could really say no.

“Great.” His boyish smile disappeared as soon as the recorder clicked on. He started by listing off the date and time, then addressed you. “This is AD Robert Yang, interviewing Ms. Y/L/N Y/N. Also present is Ms. Kwon Siyeon, Supervisor of Systems Analysis and Reporting. Ms. Y/L/N, you are aware that I’m recording this conversation, correct?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Yes.”

“A few formalities before we begin: Since I have the recording going, I ask that you let me finish my question before you answer, even if you think you know what I’m going to ask. Cross-chatter is a bit difficult to parse out when you have to listen back to it.”

“Okay.”

“I also want you to answer everything aloud. No nodding or shaking your head, or ‘uh-huh’ or ‘nuh-unh.’” He showed the motions as he did them, and you could tell he had done this spiel many times before. “The non-verbal cues don’t translate great in an audio format.”

“Will do.”

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat, clicked his pen a couple of times, then looked up at you to begin with his first question. “Now, can you tell me how long you worked at The Bureau of Interpersonal Affairs prior to your resignation?”

“About five years.”

“Do you remember when your first day was?”

“Of training or on my own?”

“Training. After being hired.”

“Probably… spring five years ago. May, after I graduated.”

“Okay, good, good. And so you were hired, did your six months of standard training, right?”

“Right.”

“Then what happened?”

“I did more training to be a Systems Analytics Specialist.”

“How much?”

“Two and a half years.”

“So three years of training total, then you got to start on your own as a… Systems Analytics Specialist.”

“Yes.”

“I believe the other name for that position is matchmaker, correct?”

You bit down on your tongue to keep back an eyeroll. All of you in this room had to be aware that he was feigning ignorance right now. He might as well have asked if the Bureau was also sometimes called The Soulmate Factory. “Yes, we’re often called that as well.”

“More than Systems Analytics Specialist?”

“Yes.”

He jumped topics. “So why did you start working at the Bureau?”

“It sounded like a good place to work.”

“How so?”

“It seemed like the Bureau did good work. Helping people find their soulmates.”

“And you didn’t want to find yours?”

“I was willing to give that up for something bigger than me.”

“Did you join the Bureau with the intent of manipulating your soulmate match?”

“No.”

“Did you sign up to be a matchmaker with the intent of manipulating your soulmate match?”

“No. I didn’t sign up to be a matchmaker in the first place.”

“You didn’t?” He arched an eyebrow curiously.

“No.”

“How did you become a matchmaker?”

You glanced over at your former boss. “Ms. Kwon chose me at the end of my six months of basic training.”

“Why you?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged.

“She didn’t tell you?”

“No.”

“You agreed to two and a half more years of training for a specialized position that doesn’t even recruit one new person a year without being told why you were suited for that position?”

“Yes. I was young and it paid better. I didn’t need to know.”

“When you were working as a matchmaker, were you ever asked by friends or family to manipulate their matches in any way, shape, or form?” He switched topics again. You weren’t sure if he was trying to disorient you, or if he simply decided that he was done with that line of questioning and wanted to move on with the next one.

You opened your mouth to say ‘no,’ then suddenly thought of the sisters on your bus in the mornings, recalling a day when the younger one had been crying as you got on, and her sister stopped you specifically. Tilting your head, you replied, “I once pinky promised a little girl that I wouldn’t match her with this smelly boy in her class. Does that count?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes.”

He made a show of scribbling something down on his notes, of which he had already filled up the first page of a large legal pad. AD Yang flipped to the next page as he announced, “I’m going to skip forward a little in time. When you found out you had the string, what did you do first?”

“Went home.”

“Went home?” He repeated.

“It showed up after work. So I went home.”

“Where were you?”

“The bus stop outside of the Bureau.”

“Around what time of day was this?”

“Between five and five-twenty.”

“That’s a pretty specific time frame. How do you know that?”

“It was after work ended but before my bus showed up.”

“So the Bureau was still open, then. There were still people inside that you could have reported this to, such as Ms. Kwon here?”

“I don’t know if there were people in the building, and certainly not if Ms. Kwon specifically was still in the building, since I was outside and could not see inside of the building,” you answered frankly.

“Right, of course.” He gave you a close-lipped smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Do people usually stay after five here, at the Bureau? To your knowledge?”

“Some people, sure, on some days.”

“So, it would have been a good guess, that there would’ve been somebody inside, when you realized that you had a string?”

“Possibly.”

“Then why didn’t you go back inside?”

“Honestly, I panicked,” you admitted, closing your eyes for a moment as you thought back to that night again. “I thought it was impossible for me to get one. I thought I might’ve been able to figure something out on my own.”

“Figure something out? Like what?”

You opened your eyes and gave a half-hearted ‘I-don’t-know’ gesture with your hands that had been resting on the tabletop, despite his prior instructions to keep non-verbal cues to a minimum. “Like what happened, what went wrong.”

“And did you?” He prompted.

“No. I didn’t.” Not even a little bit.

“And is that when you told Ms. Kwon? When you gave up?”

“No.” You told her when you decided you wanted to keep the string. Not because the dead-ends had frustrated you.

“Why did you tell her? Why not continue your renegade investigation?”

“You’re asking me why I followed proper protocol?”

“I’m trying to piece together what happened. All the events that happened, and exactly in what order. What happened that caused you to tell Ms. Kwon at the time that you did? Did you even tell her? Or was it found out? I’ve been assuming, I’m sorry.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly, but consciously relaxed your face back into a pleasantly neutral expression. Ms. Kwon would have obviously had to do her own report including all of the details of your conversation with her. He should know all of those particulars. Was he trying to catch Ms. Kwon in a lie?

“Yes, I chose to report it. Because I had done some self-reflection. And I don’t think there’s anything further to be said that is of import for the Bureau to know.”

There was a moment of still air as he held eye contact with you. Out of the corner of your vision, you saw Ms. Kwon’s lips part, as if she were about to say something, then she closed her mouth again, waiting. Mr. Yang cleared his throat.

“Sorry to jump around like this, I’m sure it must be disorienting, but I’m going to go back in time now.” He was very clearly not sorry at all. “Did you know Jung Sungchan before this incident?”

“No.”

“Had you ever met, seen, or heard of him in passing?”

“Not to my recollection, no.” Sure, you could have walked by him on the street before, but you had no way to know that.

“It’s my understanding that he’s an artist, you may have seen some of his work? Heard of him that way?”

“No.”

“So there was no reason that you would have wanted to manipulate your match with him?”

“No.”

“How soon after getting your string did you meet Mr. Jung?”

Now you felt like he was messing with you. “You have that data.”

“I’m asking you.”

“The string appeared on Monday evening, we met that Saturday morning.”

“So, less than a week?”

“Yes.”

“Quick.”

“I suppose,” you replied noncommittally.

AD Yang hummed a single note in the back of his throat as he looked over one of his papers, then his sharp eyes were back on you. “How many times did you meet before reporting your string to Ms. Kwon?”

You had to take a moment to think before answering. “Four, including the first meeting.”

“I’d like to return to your job, for a moment. Now, I have Ms. Kwon here with me not only because she was your boss, but because I obviously have no clue what goes on in that room when you guys work with the computer. Really, from what I’ve heard, it’s some incredible stuff. So she’s kind of here to help me out in case I go way off the mark with what I’m asking you with some of this.” He let out an imitation of a nervous laugh, grabbing a piece of paper from his stack. He pushed it over to you, asking, “Now, can you take a look at this for me?”

It was a nearly blank piece of copy paper, except for one long string of characters printed across it.

jkD%NVSC3%JCacN%vWS5#k!Z4GqGW#ZfMyqGUfc@wQT5L5vK2uWU5N*5Lg&6

“What do you see here, Ms. Y/L/N?” Mr. Yang questioned.

You looked up from the paper, having to consciously choose not to slip back into reading it and instead focus on the conversation at hand. “It’s raw match data from the computer. This is one match.”

“Does it look familiar to you at all?”

“I mean, it looks like every other match I’ve ever read.”

“So you don’t remember reading this specific match at all?”

“No, I don’t remember reading this specific match.” You didn’t even need to look at it again. Of course you didn’t remember it, they were all just a bunch of stuff that you read practically in a trance, there was no way you’d be able to remember any of them.

He grabbed another paper from his folder to show to you, a clipping from a spreadsheet of some kind, several columns showing a date, time, and eight-digit code that was unfamiliar to you, except for the letters appended to the end of it—your initials.

“According to our audit logs, this match was read at, and the match report submitted from, your station in the matchmaking room.”

“Okay.”

“Is it safe to assume, therefore, that you submitted the match report?”

“Was it during business hours?”

“Yes.”

“Was I swiped in?”

“Yes.”

“Did Ms. Kwon see me at my station during that time?”

“Ms. Kwon?” Mr. Yang prompted her without breaking eye contact with you.

“I do not have specific recollection of this day, so I cannot say in the affirmative or the negative,” she spoke for the first time since you had entered, and you had to suppress your smile at her response.

The man lifted his arms up and then down in a sort of ‘oh well’ motion. “We don’t know.”

“The electronic data does make it seem likely that I read this match and submitted this match report,” you finally said.

“This is your match with Mr. Jung.”

You tried not to show your utter shock on your face—you knew he wanted to get some kind of reaction from you—but you couldn’t help the sudden jolt forward in your seat as you went to pull the piece of paper closer to you again, your eyes drinking in the characters once more.

jkD%NVSC3%JCacN%vWS5#k!Z4GqGW#ZfMyqGUfc@wQT5L5vK2uWU5N*5Lg&6

There was still no way for you to distinguish specifics, but just knowing that somewhere in this seemingly meaningless string of nonsense was you and Sungchan, you kept rereading it, desperately wishing for it to feel special now.

“And how do you read the matches? Walk me through the process.” AD Yang’s voice brought your focus back to the present.

You exchanged a knowing look with Ms. Kwon. “I really can’t…”

“Trade secrets?” He said humorously. “It’s alright, I work at the Bureau.”

“No, I mean, it’s impossible to describe. I can’t tell you what I’m reading or how I know. I just do.”

“Then how do you know it’s right?”

“Because it is.”

Ms. Kwon stepped in then, “Mr. Yang, I’m advising you that you are getting close to questioning the computer and the program itself, not Ms. Y/L/N.”

He held his hands up in a sort of surrender. “Well that is certainly what we are not here to do, hm? Let me just take a look at my notes, and make sure I’ve covered everything. Should only be a few more minutes of your time, Ms. Y/L/N.”

AD Yang kept you in there until you started watching the sun begin its journey downwards in the sky. At some point, you started going in circles, and you knew he was just trying to catch you in lies, or confuse you, or get you to admit more than you had before out of exhaustion, or in hopes that he’d let you out. But you gave no different answers, no contradictory or new information, and you knew he’d eventually let you out. After all, there was no proof anywhere that you had done anything wrong, because you hadn’t. The most they could really get on was not telling someone at the Bureau sooner when you’d gotten your string but what could they actually do? Fire you?

When Mr. Yang finally declared the interview over, and turned the recorder off, you had to keep in your groan of relief. Instead, you maintained your composure, standing up when they did in order to shake their hands.

“Thank you very much for your time, Ms. Y/L/N. I do apologize for taking so much of your day, that had not been my intention,” Mr. Yang once again laughed as he shook your hand. “But this was very helpful, and I promise, yours and Mr. Jung’s answers are going to help us here at Bureau improve the way we do things in the future.”

“Right. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Yang.” You nodded politely to him, then turned to your old boss, a genuine smile coming to your face. “It was good seeing you again, Ms. Kwon.”

“Jeno had something to do, so I’ll show you out, Y/N.” She informed you, gesturing to the door.

The two of you were quiet as you walked through the halls of the second floor, until you finally reached a small waiting area on the other end of the building, made up of only a few uncomfortable-looking armchairs. Sungchan was the only person there, slumped down in a chair and bouncing his leg as he cracked his knuckles. He looked up when he heard footsteps, jumping to his feet as soon as he saw you, and while you would’ve felt a little weird about running in an office, he clearly didn’t care, taking just a few long strides to reach you and wrap his arms around you.

“God, Y/N! There you are! What the hell? Why the fuck did they keep you so long? They wouldn’t tell me anything, just that you were still being interviewed and I could either leave or keep waiting. I wasn’t going to leave but—”

“I’m fine, Sungchan, I’m fine,” you reassured him, hugging him back despite the slight awkwardness you felt with Ms. Kwon still definitely being right there. “We’ll talk about it later, okay?”

He didn’t say anything else, just kept holding you as you turned around in his arms to address Ms. Kwon.

“Uhm, we’re good to leave, right? Do you need anything else from us?”

She was clearly fighting back a smile as she replied, “I ask that you wait just a little bit longer, okay?”

“Okay, sure,” you nodded. “What is it? Something for me to sign? An NDA or something?”

“Just a moment, okay?” And with that, she left.

“God, I fucking hate it here,” Sungchan grumbled into your shoulder. “Let’s just go, whatever NDA or whatever the hell they want you to sign is going to suck and be coercive as shit and not worth it. It probably won’t even be enforceable or whatever.”

“I can’t even tell how much of that is even good or bad legal advice. I think all of it was probably bad?”

“It’s definitely going to be written by that fucking skeeze who interviewed you for like seven hours straight, which means it’s going to be bad.”

“What if it’s stuff for my severance pay and benefits? Ms. Kwon also said she’d write me a letter of rec if the investigation went well—”

“Y/N!” “Y/N!” You were cut off by two familiar voices calling your name from down the hall, and whipped your head around to look, your jaw dropping in disbelief. Jaemin and Renjun were rushing towards you, waving all four of their arms wildly, as if you could miss them. You squealed, darting over to them and throwing your arms around their necks.

“Oh my god!” You laughed as they hugged you tightly. “I wasn’t expecting to see you guys today!”

“We were specifically not told when you were coming,” Renjun admitted. “I even got blocked out of the Executive calendars for the month.”

“Ms. Kwon just came and got us,” Jaemin said. “Though, word had already spread.”

“Are you sure you want to be seen with me?” You double-checked, looking around despite being in a rather empty corner of the building. “I don’t know what people have being saying, but based on the less-than-warm-welcome we got at reception, it doesn’t seem like it’s been good.”

“Do we want to be seen with our friend?” Renjun poked the right side of your head.

“Duh.” Jaemin poked the left side of your head.

“Yeah, I didn’t miss that.” You scowled at them.

“It’s so weird seeing you in normal clothes,” Jaemin commented, making you really look between their jumpsuits and your blouse and pants.

“It’s still a bit weird being in normal clothes,” you sighed.

“So… you going to introduce us?” Renjun nodded to where Sungchan was still standing awkwardly by himself in the waiting area.

“Yeah, come on!” You grabbed them by the arms to drag them over. Sungchan looked up from where he had been busying himself with a loose thread on his dress shirt, eyes landing expectantly on you. You let go of your friends to loop your arm with his. “Sungchan, this is Jaemin and Renjun, we used to work together. Jaemin’s desk was next to mine out in the bullpen, and Renjun was a few desks down from us. Guys, this is Jung Sungchan, my soulmate.”

You could hear your voice pitch up with giddiness as you introduced Sungchan in that way, and watched as his face relaxed into a smile as soon as you had called him your soulmate. He offered his free hand out to the other two.

“Nice to meet you guys,” he said sincerely. “I’ve heard good things from Y/N.”

“Then she must’ve been talking about a different Jaemin,” Renjun snorted.

“And a different Renjun,” Jaemin agreed.

“So, what are the wild theories about how I did it?” You asked. “Not the official one, I know you two don’t know that. But the breakroom gossip, the water cooler chat, the cereal death match chatter.”

“Rumor has it…” Jaemin lowered his voice and leaned in conspiratorially. “You were desperate to reunite with a long-lost childhood love and that’s why you applied to be a matchmaker.”

You snorted. “Cheesy.”

“I heard one about Ms. Kwon being in on it because you’re her secret daughter,” Renjun grinned.

“Ooh, that one’s good.”

“With someone with a string.”

You mock gasped. “Scandalous.”

Jaemin added, “I heard a version sort of like that, but you were Ms. Kwon and the Director’s secret daughter, which is obviously how you had enough pull to get it to happen.”

“Then how did I end up with my parents? Did they pay them off to adopt me?” You frowned, trying to figure out this bonkers drama plot of your fake life.

“Get this…” Jaemin paused for dramatic effect. “Your dad is the Director’s secret brother. So your parents are actually your aunt and your uncle.”

“I should’ve thought of that!” You shook your head, laughing.

“A lot of people don’t think you did anything, though,” Renjun assured you. “Seriously, most of the stuff I’m hearing is people being surprised that it hasn’t happened before.”

“That’s good to know.”

“PR is going to have a hell of a time,” Jaemin chuckled.

“Sucks to be Mark Lee right now, huh?” You grinned.

“Oh, I know that man has been sleeping under his desk for the past two weeks.”

You wrinkled your nose. “God, the seventh floor has got to be fucking rank by now. Please tell me Jeno and Donghyuck have at least been making him go home to shower.”

“Chenle did.” Your friends said in unison, making you burst into laughter at the mental image.

“God, I would’ve paid money to see that.” You chuckled. As much as you loved seeing your friends again, this wasn’t where you belonged anymore, and you had skipped lunch in that unnecessarily long interview. So with a sigh, you announced, “Anyway, it was so good to see you guys again, but we need to get going, and I’m sure you have work to finish up.”

“Unfortunately,” Renjun sighed.

“We’ll get drinks—dinner and drinks, the usual place—all four of us,” Jaemin declared as he went in to hug you goodbye. “Okay?”

“For sure,” you agreed with a grin. “You still need to give me my fucking book back, Na Jaemin.”

“He’s just a fucking thief!” Renjun complained as he went to hug you as well. “Bye, Y/N. See you again soon.”

The guys all exchanged a final wave and ‘nice to meet you,’ before your former coworkers headed back. You looked up at Sungchan, about to ask if he was ready to go, and saw him already gazing down at you thoughtfully.

“What?” You asked instead, furrowing your brow.

“Now I get how you could stand working here for five years.” He rubbed your back. “It wasn’t the Factory itself; it was the people you found here.”

“W-Well yeah. I liked my coworkers. But I also liked my job.”

“Yeah, but I like my job too, and I work alone at my studio. I like that. I prefer that. If I had to make small talk with a bunch of different people all day on top of doing my job, I think I’d start biting people,” he explained. “You didn’t just make small talk, you made friends.”

“I guess I’m a people person,” you shrugged, never really thinking about something that was so normal to you. “Is that weird?”

“No, it’s good. Just want to make sure you have people around that you like at your new job too.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to him. “Now come on, if your lunch in there was anything like mine out here, then it was approximately four saltine crackers and some water.”

“Where are we going to eat?” You asked as the two of you headed towards the stairs.

“I live nearby. I want to talk about whatever the fuck that skeeze did in there for seven hours.” His voice was tense again at the mention of the interview. After a beat, he tacked on almost nervously, “If that’s okay. We can go somewhere else if you want.”

You encircled an arm around his waist as the two of emerged into the empty courtyard. “Your place works for me. I agree, we shouldn’t talk about that out in the open.”

Despite Sungchan both picking you up and walking you home from seeing each other many times over the past couple weeks, you had yet to actually be in each other’s homes before. You hadn’t even seen the outside of his place. You knew the general area of where he lived, as he had mentioned it while giving context for some stories he’d told you. The two of you also hadn’t been this… touchy before. Whenever you saw him, it always felt sort of like you were hanging out with a friend, if you ignored the string. You didn’t hug hello or goodbye, didn’t hold hands, nothing other than the little teasing elbow digs. It never occurred to you to really bring it up to him before, that technically, according to Bureau statistics, you two were taking it slow, because that would be a fucking weird thing to say—and also, you didn’t mind. You didn’t mind doing this at whatever pace it happened at.

But now, all of this all at once, it was making you a bit dizzy. In a good way, if that was possible, but still off-kilter.

Sungchan stopped in front of the door to a townhouse in a long row of townhouses, each one with a different, colorfully painted door. His was pistachio green. When he finally opened it up and pulled you in by the hand, you immediately started looking around with eager eyes. He said he hated people looking at his art and making assumptions about him, but he said nothing about his home.

“Kitchen, living room, and laundry room are on the first floor, bedroom and bathroom are on the second,” he told you over his shoulder, taking you through a narrow entryway before emerging into the connected living room and kitchen area. You already knew his studio was at a different location from his home due to the sheer scale of the pieces he made.

His walls were all filled with art, but you immediately figured it wasn’t his. They were drawings, paintings, doodles on napkins, anything and everything. It looked like dozens, maybe even hundreds of different artists in all sorts of styles. Some professional, but most clearly not.

“Everyone who comes to my place has to pay,” he explained. “They owe me a piece of art.” Walking over to the very first wall that your eyes would see upon entering, he pointed to a piece of copy paper with random crayon scribbles on it that was displayed dead in the center. He grinned. “Not even babies are exempt. My nephew.”

“What happens when you fill up your walls?” You asked curiously, following him into the kitchen, which had even more art.

“Guess I’ll have to find a bigger place with bigger walls.” He seemed to be searching for a specific piece, then pointed to a small napkin drawing of seven cartoon heads grinning. “Sohee. Guy said he couldn’t draw then busted that out after some soju. With a pen! I know you haven’t met the other guys, but it looks just like us. Guess which one’s me.”

You hummed thoughtfully, then pointed to a face in the top left.

“Yep!” He beamed proudly, as if it had been his own drawing. He started naming all the other guys in the drawing. “Shotaro, Wonbin, Sohee, Seunghan, Anton, and Eunseok.” Then, he drew your attention to what looked like an invoice for air conditioning repair services, with a pencil sketch of an older woman in the corner of it. “A/C repair guy. Just pulled that out of nowhere. It’s his wife, they met when he went up to her in public saying she was so beautiful he had to draw her. That was before they had their strings. He said he just knew, would’ve known without the string anyway. His art didn’t take off, hence why he was my A/C repair guy.”

“So is it a piece of art every time a person comes over, or just one piece of art, and that’s the toll paid forever?”

“One piece of art per person, debt is cleared forever,” he clarified, opening his fridge to root around in it. “I’ve had some artist friends defer their pieces for future visits because they wanted to make a proper, good piece. You know, put real time into it.”

“It’s good, Sungchan,” you grinned, still looking around at more of the art on the walls. “I love it all.”

“I know, now I don’t have to worry about my furniture matching my décor.”

“Yeah, but it’s also…” You breathed in happily as you tried to figure out how to say it. “You called me a people person earlier. You are too, just in a different way.”

He looked around doubtfully. “You think so? I literally said I would bite people if I had to talk to them. I don’t know if my people skills are really up to par for being labelled a people person.”

“Your entire house is wallpapered in art from just ordinary people that you’ve met. Your friends and family, an A/C repair guy. Call me crazy, but I think you like people.”

“Huh. Never thought of it like that.” He grabbed a few more things from the fridge, then the pantry. “Anton just calls it a weird powerplay, and one time Eunseok said he thought I like ‘asserting my dominance.’”

You laughed, “Maybe you’ve just got weird friends if they think you asking them to make you art is you trying to dominate them.”

“Not going to argue with you there.”

“Can I defer my art to another visit?” You requested. “I mean… I’ll probably be over more than once, right?”

He smiled softly. “Probably. And sure, you can defer. But you’re not getting out of it just because you’re my soulmate. If anything, I think that means you definitely owe me something I can point to when people come over and say, ‘my soulmate made that one.’”

After getting a quick and simple lunch together, you and Sungchan took it to his living room to eat, as he didn’t have a dining table. You sat with your back against the arm of the couch, facing Sungchan as your legs were criss-crossed under you.

You started, “So, what did AD Yang—” “Who?”

“The guy who interviewed us? The man with Ms. Kwon?”

“Oh, the skeeze.”

“Yeah. So what did Mr. Yang—” “Who?”

You rolled your eyes, fighting to keep the amused smile off your lips. “So what did the skeeze ask you? I want to know that first, before we talk about mine. Because like, when I think about the amount of time it took Jeno to walk you up there, introductions, goodbyes, then for Jeno to take you to the waiting room, then come get me… I mean, that whole time was like fifteen minutes. So you probably only talked to them for a few minutes, right?”

“Yeah, I mean, it was just a bunch of stuff they probably already knew.” He shrugged. “When did I realize I had the string? When did you and I meet? Did I know that you worked at the Factory when we met? When did I learn that you worked at the Factory? Did I know you before the string? Did I know anybody else at the Factory who could have manipulated the match for me? Then… that was it.”

“Makes sense. You didn’t have any ties to the Factory other than me.”

“So what the fuck happened in there that the skeeze thought he needed to take seven fucking hours?”

“I don’t think it would have taken that long, except…” You scratched your head awkwardly. “I’m the one who read our match and submitted the match report.”

Sungchan’s eyes widened. “Wait, really? But how did you not— Don’t you look that stuff up?”

“Reading the matches, and looking up the profiles, it’s all anonymous. It’s not like I saw it and my brain read it as ‘Jung Sungchan and Y/L/N Y/N.’ It was just… sort of like, the impression of profile numbers, I guess? It was like any other match to me, there was nothing special about it to me.” You screwed your face up as you desperately tried to both explain the matchmaking process to someone who had never been near the process at all, and as you tried to recall anything about that specific match at all, which you of course couldn’t. “And the profile numbers when I looked them up, it didn’t show me names or pictures, or any sort of identifying data when I would do that. It’s all completely anonymous, for good reason.” When you opened your eyes again, Sungchan was still staring at you, and your stomach dropped as you realized what you had just said. “Sungchan, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s not that you’re not special, of course you are, but when I would be matching, you’re sort of not yourself and—”

“Woah, woah, sorry, I didn’t mean to zone out and make you worry like that,” he apologized, setting his bowl aside and turning to fully face you. “I was just thinking… How many people get to say that their soulmate was the one who gave them their own red string? Like, that’s so cool.”

“Uh… nobody? We’re probably the only ones.”

“Exactly. It doesn’t matter if it felt special to you in that moment or not. Because it still was. I mean, did it feel special when you decided to stop and look at that book at the bookstore? In the split-second that you made the decision?”

You shook your head. “No, I just, wanted to look at the book.”

“And me running after the Frisbee when Anton missed for like the sixth time that morning didn’t feel special in that second. But both of those things were, because it took both of them happening at the same time for us to meet.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, looking down at your food, then up at Sungchan. Setting your bowl aside as well, you then asked, “Is that what a soulmate is, then?”

“What? A Frisbee nearly hitting you in the face?”

“No,” you chuckled. “I mean—Jaemin, Renjun, and I were talking one night, and we were debating about what a soulmate really was. I was in an existential spiral over our red string, they were having a fun little philosophical discussion. They didn’t know about the string yet. We couldn’t decide if a soulmate was just the best that you do, or somebody who would make you better, or infinite second chances.”

“So what do you think a soulmate is now?”

“Someone that makes all the nooks and crannies in your life special, even if they wouldn’t usually be. Just by being there.”

Sungchan absolutely beamed, nodding enthusiastically. “Yeah, yeah. I… like that.”

“What do you think a soulmate is?”

“I’ve always figured every pair of soulmates needs something different from each other,” he replied. “And I think you figured out what we need from each other. To make all the nooks and crannies of our lives special just by being there.”

“Okay…” You agreed softly, a fond smile coming to your lips as he offered his hand out, palm out. You set your hand atop his, your chest squeezing your heart at the same time Sungchan squeezed your hand.

“Now… tell me everything that fucking skeeze said. Everything you can remember.”

“Oh my god, Sungchan.”

“You were in there for seven hours, Y/N!”

“He asked me the same one and a half hours of questions like five times. I was going to start biting people by hour three.”

[sungchan: omw :) ]

[you: okey!]

[sungchan: :( ]

[you: okey! :) ]

[sungchan: :) ]

Laughing to yourself at Sungchan’s attachment to emoticons in texts, you grabbed the last few things that you’d need for your date today. It was the last week that his exhibit was available at the museum, and between your hectic schedule of interviews, and phone interviews, and callback interviews for jobs, in addition to his own schedule, this was finally the day that you two had been able to arrange to go together. A few minutes later, your phone lit up again.

[sungchan: outside :) ]

[you: omw down <3 ]

You saw him start typing, but then he stopped, presumably figuring that he’d be able to tell you whatever it was to your face in thirty seconds. Rushing down, you threw open the front door already with a smile that only grew tenfold as you looked up at Sungchan.

“Hi!” You greeted him, locking up behind you before giving him a hug.

“Good morning.” He readjusted your jacket, pulling it more snugly around your collar for you. “You going to be warm enough in that?”

A cold snap had come through last night, dropping the temperature and forcing you to get your fall wardrobe out early. You raised an eyebrow, looping your arm with his to pull him over to the bus stop to wait. “The museum is heated inside, isn’t it?”

“Well yeah…”

“Then I think my biggest problem would be having to carry a heavy jacket around the museum the whole time.”

When the bus arrived, you were just a bit disoriented by there being completely different passengers—after all, it was a different time of day than your previous daily commute, and you and Sungchan went to sit in a different row. You took the window seat, always loving to watch the passing scenery, and to give Sungchan the extra leg room of the aisle. As the bus took off, you squinted, unable to see much through the fogged-up glass. Sungchan reached a hand past you, and you watched with interest as he drew a heart in the condensation on the window. You giggled and took your own pointer finger to the empty space in the heart, carefully tracing out JSC, then your initials, then a plus in the middle, feeling very much like a preteen doodling on your math homework.

When you looked back at him, you saw that his ears were pink, and you weren’t sure if it was from the cold or not, but he grabbed your right hand with his left, both of your index fingers still a bit chilly from drawing on the window. He rested your linked hands on your lap, and though you couldn’t quite see it from this angle, you knew that the string that connected your pinkies was complete. You leaned your head on his shoulder to look out the window, through the lines made with your little heart.

At the art museum, you excitedly stuck your visitor sticker to your shirt before pulling Sungchan in further by the hand. You looked up at the huge skylight in the main atrium, providing an abundance of natural light on a large abstract sculpture in a bold orange color. “It’s beautiful in here.”

“Have you ever been to this museum?” Sungchan asked curiously as you stopped to watch a cloud pass over the skylight.

“No, I haven’t,” you replied quietly, turning your gaze down to the sculpture in front of you. “I’ve lived here my whole life and it’s one of those places that I’ve always been meaning to go to but, I don’t know, I just haven’t yet.”

“Yeah, I’ve got some places like that,” he said in understanding. “Let’s make a list, both of us. And we’ll cross them off together.”

“Okay, yeah.” You smiled at him, squeezing his hand. “Together.”

Sungchan’s exhibit was in the first gallery past the lobby atrium, and you two had gone at a pretty perfect time for it to be empty of everybody except the docents. You came to a stop as soon as you entered, unsure of where to put your eyes first. When you heard large-scale mixed media collages, you weren’t sure if you had really processed how large ‘large-scale’ was. The gallery was probably fifty meters across, the longest wall being taken up entirely by one single piece. There were only five pieces total in the gallery, one on each wall and one suspended in the middle of the room. You were sure that you could spend hours just looking at one of them.

You decided to start at the one closest to you, and work your way towards the back, where the entrance to the next gallery was. There was a plaque with information about the piece and the artist on it, which you entirely discarded. You commented on things you liked or found interesting as if you were just talking to yourself, not expecting Sungchan to respond at all. And truly, you were just talking to yourself, mostly gasping and muttering all of these things under your breath with delight—after all, you were in a museum, you had to use your inside voice. He’d sometimes chuckle or hum with interest, but that was the extent of him engaging with your commentary, just following you as you slowly trailed down the pieces, then sometimes jumped back to a place that you had already looked over as you made a connection, then went down again. Until you finally made it to the behemoth piece.

Despite being the largest, it had the most fine detail, the smallest individual parts making it up. And that almost felt intentional. Part of you wanted to ask Sungchan that, but you bit your tongue. Instead, you raked your eyes over every square centimeter, drinking in as much as you possibly could. The docent who was standing in the corner switched out while you were looking over that piece, and for a brief second, you wondered if any of the employees had recognized Sungchan. It had never occurred to you that random people on the street would, but in the art museum where he quite literally has an exhibit displaying his art, under his real name… If they did, nobody had made any indication as to such.

Then your attention was sucked back in by the collage in front of you. By the time you were finished, you weren’t sure how much time had passed, only that your feet hurt. You didn’t say anything to Sungchan, only gave his exhibit one more proud look before turning the corner into the next gallery. This one had a dark, heavy curtain dividing it from the rest of the museum, and you immediately knew why. There was a sign at the beginning, the letters lit up so you could read it: ‘The Beauty of Light’

The building’s main overhead lights were completely out, so that the only light provided was from a few along the floor so you could see your step, and the exhibit itself. There were mirrors, glass panes, and colorful lights set up all around the room, refracting all sorts of seemingly impossibly arrays of colors and designs along the surfaces.

“Woah…” You breathed out, reaching out to catch a rainbow on your palm, immediately laughing with wonder.

“It’s interactive,” Sungchan informed you, adjusting the equipment making the rainbow so that there was a whole starburst of rainbows all across you.

“Okay, that’s really fucking cool.” You could feel the huge grin on your face.

“I really didn’t want to see you reacting to my art, actually. I usually hate seeing people looking at my works.”

You looked up at him, confused. “Then why did you want to come with me?”

“I knew they had this exhibit here, and I knew I had to be there when you saw it.” He moved the glass just a bit more, and you weren’t sure where the rainbows had ended up now, but he seemed satisfied as a tender smile came to his lips. “Beautiful.”

“It’s incredible,” you gushed, looking around the room at more of the cool effects being done with lights, then back to Sungchan. You held your hand out towards him, and he walked out from behind the equipment, taking your hand again. Now that he was next to you, some of the rainbows were sticking to his skin and clothes, and you couldn’t help but smile as one caught on his nose.

“Thank you for bearing through the horror of seeing somebody see your art to experience this with me,” you half-teased, swinging your linked hands. Though your words were exaggerated, your sentiment was sincere.

“I said I usually hate seeing people look at my works, but I liked watching you in the exhibit. It didn’t feel like you were performing for me,” he said with a grin. “I could probably watch you watch paint dry.”

“You’re being hyperbolic,” you scoffed.

“I’ve got some paint at my place, want to find out?”

“As thrilling as that sounds, maybe later,” you snorted. “I’m not done with the beauty of light.”

“Hey, no complaints here.” Sungchan ran his thumb over your cheek, still looking down at you with an unbelievable tenderness in his gaze. “Hm…”

“What?” You whispered, your voices suddenly sounding too loud in the empty gallery. The docent had stepped out, and another hadn’t come back in. It was just you and Sungchan in this room.

“Tried to wipe the rainbow off your cheek…”

“Let me guess, didn’t work?”

“Well, it did, kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“Moved to your mouth.” He traced the bottom line of your bottom lip with the very tip of his thumb, and you felt like you weren’t breathing, waiting for him to do something, anything.

“Sounds like a problem.” You put your hand over his, pushing it to your face so he was cradling your cheek.

Sungchan was smiling as he kissed you, you could feel it in the sweet press of his lips to yours, the soft tilting of your chin up to meet his. You squeezed the hand down by your side even tighter. He broke the kiss as gently as he had started it, still smiling down at you. You suddenly shot up to your tiptoes and wrapped your hand around his neck to pull his head down so you could peck the bridge of his nose, giggling when you had released him and he stood back up with a confused but affectionate look on his face.

“And what was that for?” He asked with a chuckle.

“You had a rainbow on your nose.” You told him very seriously. “We’ve established that you have to kiss them off, obviously.”

“Well in that case—” He proceeded to kiss your forehead, cheek, hair, and mouth again in quick succession.

You were laughing, your entire body buzzing from head to toe as you leaned against him both in a bid just be closer, and also because you felt like your knees might just give out. When you heard footsteps enter the gallery again, you bit your lip to stop your giggles, and Sungchan left you with one more fleeting peck to your temple before standing up straight and bringing you over to the next area of the exhibit.

Groaning and sleepily rolling over onto your back, you were vaguely aware of the fact that you had rolled directly back into someone’s chest, and contentedly snuggled further into your position. An arm snaked around your waist, pulling your hips flush to theirs, and you smiled to yourself as you started drifting back off to sleep.

“Y/N?” Came a low rumble of your name from behind you.

You were nearly asleep again, and decided to just pretend you didn’t hear him.

“Baby?” He whispered, a little louder.

“Shh, Sungie,” you hummed. “Still sleeping.”

“Y/N…”

“Sungchan, my love, shut the fuck up and let me sleep.”

Deciding your discussion was finished, you rolled onto your front again and pushed your face into your pillow. He just followed you to that side of the bed, and you felt the pillow dip as he rested his head on it as well. Sungchan ran a hand up and down your spine, the covers dropping lower with his movements.

Realizing that he wasn’t going to be letting you sleep in today, you lifted your face out of your pillow and propped yourself up on your elbows to glare at him. “What is so important that I can’t sleep in on a Saturday when I don’t have to open?”

“You said you wanted to go to that breakfast place, and it closes in an hour,” he informed you quietly, face reminding you very much of a guilty puppy in that moment.

You looked at the time on his bedside clock, and flopped back down with a groan. “Well it’s too fucking late now. Next week.”

“Sorry, baby.” He squeezed your shoulder. “I would’ve woken you up sooner, but usually you’re the one who wakes me up for this kind of stuff. I just woke up a couple minutes ago.”

“Mm, it’s okay, Sungie,” you sighed and turned onto your back, offering him a sleepy smile to let him know that you weren’t mad at him at all. Now in a particularly lovely and warm patch of sunlight, you couldn’t imagine even getting up to go to the bathroom, much less a restaurant. “I think my sleep schedule from working at the Factory is finally gone. My body isn’t used to getting up for a nine to five anymore.”

“Oh, hold on.” He reached for his phone off the nightstand, and you immediately knew what was coming based on his change in demeanor. With a half-resigned, half-endeared sigh, you threw an arm over your face to hide it as he stood up to start taking pictures of you. He called for you with a slight whine in his voice, “Baby…”

“I have bedhead and morning breath, Sungie.”

“You can’t tell if you have morning breath in a picture.”

“And the bedhead?”

“So? Prettiest bedhead I’ve ever seen.”

“Subject gets to decide if you see her bedhead.”

He was quiet, but his pout was deafening as he continued taking pictures of you laying in the morning sunlight.

“Actually…” There was a curl of a smile in his tone as he plopped back down on the mattress. “I like it. Reminds me of those Baroque statues of Greek goddesses.”

You dropped your arm from your face and shuffled closer to be able to peer at his screen. The similarity of the pose was uncanny, but it also reminded you of something else.

“Or Ophelia…” You snorted.

“She doesn’t have an arm over her face.”

“Yeah but like, the general vibe, you know?”

He laughed, sinking into the pillows to make a few minor edits to the color toning. You settled your head on his chest to mindlessly watch him work, knowing that at least one of these photos would be printed out and added to the wall.

When you had admitted to him one night that you felt a lot of pressure over what piece of art to make him to put on his walls as part of his house rule, he suggested that the two of you make one together. So far all of his guests’ art had been relegated to the first floor, so the walls of his bedroom were entirely blank. Starting in the middle of the largest wall, above the long side of his bed, you two had begun a collage. Adding pictures that you two took of each other, pictures other people took of you two, pictures you took of places that you went on dates together, and any miscellaneous thing from your time that had acquired fond memories and Sungchan could figure out a way to stick to the wall. It had slowly started growing, and sometimes you liked to just lay in bed and look at it. One time you’d asked Sungchan what he was going to do when he moved out of this place, and he’d said cut out that section of wall and take it with him. At the time, you had laughed, but now you weren’t so sure it was a joke. Honestly, they could just put more wall in, right?

“There,” Sungchan murmured with finality, and you heard his portable photo film printer start whirring to life from his desk in the corner.

“Put it up later,” you requested, wrapping an arm around his middle and burying your face in his neck. “Don’t want you get up…”

“Fine by me.” He hugged you to him tightly, readjusting you so you were practically on top of him. “Are you on the afternoon shift or the closing shift?”

“Ahrin had her sister’s wedding today, so I’m doing afternoon and closing.”

“God, nobody else could take her shift?”

“I needed the money,” you shrugged. “Severance pay is gone and amazingly, part-time bookstore clerk doesn’t pay as well as full-time matchmaker at the Factory did.”

You’d been having a difficult time finding a job since quitting the Factory. Despite companies and organizations seemingly tripping over themselves to want to interview you, it was crickets when it came time to actually follow through after that. Even with your immaculate letter of recommendation from Ms. Kwon. At most of the interviews, you got the distinct impression that they just wanted a chance to meet the Factory employee who “rigged it,” and not actually interview you. After all, who would want such a dishonest and untrustworthy employee at their company. The only place that had offered you a job was your favorite bookstore by the park, which you were more than grateful for.

“I told you, you can live here,” Sungchan reminded you gently.

“I already practically do,” you retorted. “But I still have a lease on my place, and have to pay whether I’m here seven days a week or not.”

“Then why don’t you cut your lease? Isn’t there an early leave payment or something? That has to be cheaper than continuing to pay for the next however many months when you don’t even live there.”

“I—” You swallowed thickly, your voice getting smaller. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I mean that.”

“Me actually moving in?”

“Yes, you actually moving in.”

“Okay.” You beamed into his shirt. “I’ll look into the early leave payment.”

“Send your lease to Jihun to look over,” he suggested, referencing his sister’s husband.

“He’s not a lawyer.”

“No, but he’s got a couple. And he’s good with contracts and haggling. Bet he can get that fee payment cut in half.” You lifted your head, about to argue with asking for favors like that, when Sungchan cupped your jaw and tilted your chin so you were looking right at him. His red string hung in the air just in the corner of your eye. He held your gaze steadily. “It’s what family does, Y/N.”

“Okay,” you murmured, nodding against his hand. “Yeah, family.”

He pulled you forward and up to crash your lips together, his fingers tangling in your hair, and your hands flew to his chest to keep yourself upright. You felt your love for him filling every nook and cranny of your body, and you knew it was something special, because it was yours.

➥ masterlist

[jordynbreeloa777]

“Let go” ENDGAME VOID CHALLENGE. (Part 2, for visual people.)

This is a part 2 for the people inboxing me saying they’re more of a visual person so here is a more IN DEPTH version. If you still don’t understand please let me know!

{ This NEW VOID CHALLENGE MADE BY ME , IS TO ENTER THE VOID STATE!⚠️‼️ }

Step 1 : DECISION

How this challenge works is FIRST you have to choose if you are going to enter wide awake, or wake up in!

Step 2: 🌹 Once you have choose, I want you to robotically affirm and get into the state every single day of someone who always enters/wakes up in the void aware with ease. For example I will be choosing to wake up in since I entered successfully that way before aware, but forgot to affirm for my desires!

Step 2: 🌹Robotically affirming, and get into the state. Whenever you get a chance, you don’t have to set a timer of do a counter app. Just let your thoughts run on a loop in your free time! Some affs I recommend (that I use for entering awake is) I always enter the void with ease under 3 seconds. I always enter the void on my command. I always am aware and remember my purpose for the void. (waking up in) I always wake up in the void state aware. It is so easy for me to wake up in the void aware, I do it all the time! Every time I fall asleep I instantly wake up in the void! How to get in the state is so simple, just embody the feeling of the person who knows they always enter the void state successfully on the first try. (Don’t get discouraged if you don’t failure doesn’t exist in your reality so don’t make that an option, it’s not hard AT ALL, unless you assume so)

{ If you are more a visual person, you can imagine yourself with all your desires that you manifested in the void (already done LOA speaking) or imagine you getting into the void and manifesting your desires, or your list, something of that nature whatever you may be manifesting! Or say you are shifting visualize what you want to see when you wake up, or in your DR! }

{As well as if robotically affirming isn’t your thing fullfil yourself in imagination, not saying by forcing yourself with your 5 senses} But know that your someone who has the mental mentality that it’s not difficult at all to enter! }

Pointers: If you are waking up in the void, you can do lullaby method/SATS or just command your subconscious before falling asleep!

Step 3: 🌹Vaunt at least twice a day, in your head or whenever you want. Vaunt to yourself or imagine you telling somebody how you entered the void and manifested your dream life months ago, or vaunt that the void state is soo easy to enter and that you don’t understand why people find it hard, and that its the easiest thing in the world to do ever! Really saturate your mind and it will feel more natural, I promise. The void is not something outside of you, it’s not some magical place where you manifest instantly, remember YOU ARE THE ONE WHO EVEN CREATED THE VOID. YOU MANIFEST YOURSELF NOT, “I RECEIVED THIS FROM THE VOID” NO. YOU MANIFESTED YOURSELF.

Step 4: 🌹 Enter/Wake up in. If you fail you clearly know that it’s all based off your assumptions, especially if you’re trying for the first time. Don’t make failure an option to exist for someone who controls everything. There is no “deadline” of when you need to get into the void, or set time or date, no. You manifest/enter whenever you want because you’re such a master manifestor it’s crazy..like insane!

I will be trying this challenge as well, have fun and Happy Manifesting!💝💝

[certifiedsexed]

Hey there, it's ladybug anon again (I think I might not have seen your answer if you did answer my last question, but I had a ladybug emoji in my last question so I could search for it.)

Anyway! So, some good news, I now have a fwb-ish setup with a close friend at least established (we did attempt sex once but I got scared pretty quickly, I figure this is normal though and we've established that it's a thing we can keep working at).

The question here, though: is it normal to not be comfortable with somebody you want to have sex with seeing your genitals? Of course I know that a lot about sex isn't normal, I guess the question is more "how do I work around that / make sure the friend isn't insulted or anything about it".

The one previous attempt had us both clothed (mostly, my shirt was unbuttoned which I was fine with) and honestly I thought it was fine. They were clearly stimulating the areas that needed to be, but in case I ever felt like going for penetration, I don't think I feel comfortable having them see me like that.

Thank you! (You know the drill, if for whatever reason this ask shows my actual username and not anon, please just delete it.)

Hi! Welcome back and congrats on your relationship! <3

As for your question, absolutely! Some people have difficulties even seeing their genitals even if they want to have sex and plenty of people also have trouble not being comfortable with others seeing their genitals during sex, for a variety of reasons.

My recommendation for working around it/make sure your friend isn't insulted would first be to tell your friend. You don't have to go in-depth but explain that you're not comfortable with people seeing your genitals and you're worried they're going to feel insulted or upset about that.

You're friends, so I'm assuming this person is moderately chill. If they don't respond kindly to that discussion, I'd advise not having sex with them. You shouldn't have to force yourself to have sex you wont enjoy or are intensely uncomfortable with for anyone's sake.

But if they respond kindly (or you continue to have sex with them anyway if they respond badly), I'd recommend brainstorming ways of having sex that doesn't involve them looking at your genitals!

For example, you can clothed sex, you could have sex in the dark, you could have sex with them unclothed and you clothed, they could be blindfolded if y'all wanna go that route, etc.

Look into it, there are a lot of options! If there are any that stick out in particular to you, maybe suggest them and see how your friend responds. It could even be a fun thing for the both of you, researching specific ways to have sex without triggering your discomfort!

You're right; there isn't really a "normal" way to have sex. So make your own "normal" and have fun.

I hope this helps, Anon! Lemme know if you have any other questions. <333

[perfectlypreservedpie]

MacCready Fanfiction Recs (Fallout 4)

hey everybody, nobody asked for this but in the midst of writing fallout fanfic I was feeling a special kind of love for my favorite fo4 fanfics and wanted to recommend them in case you hadn't read 'em. Because they are VERY GOOD and writing fanfic is hard, so you gotta give props to those who sweat for your comfort fics.

I'm gonna recommend my top three finished fanfics, and then two more bonus fics that are being updated rn. As a clarifier, these are all Maccready fallout 4 fics. so. keep that in mind.

im tagging the authors and also anybody who wants to join and share their favorites too!

3. THE FATHER(S) AND THE SON(S) on ao3 by @sirmanmister

I'm going to preface this rec by saying this: there is Fanon MacCready. There is canon MacCready. And then there is ascended!whatBethesdawishesitWAS MacCready, which exists solely in this fanfiction. The characterization of Mac is so well written. He is snarky, he is vulnerable. He desperately wants to grow up but doesn't know how. He has the most sick character arc in this story!!!

It's not a romance but instead a coming of age story where the sole survivor becomes a de-facto parent to Mac. The heart of the story is about how to raise a child while you're still trying to grow up yourself. The apocalypse setting lends itself well because the Wasteland is a place where NOTHING is beautiful, but the way that M!Sosu and MacCready care for their sons is beautiful. Which makes it special and worth fighting for.

As a fun fact, I read The Road by Cormac McCarthy for class a week after finishing this fic and I was thinking about this fic the whole time because the themes of fatherhood during an apocalypse hit a lot of the same beats. Maybe my professor would kick me in the teeth by comparing fic to McCarthy, but @sirmanmister YOU ARE MY CORMAC MCCARTHY <3

2. WORKING CLASS HERO on ao3 by @bluegrasskitty

This is the kind of fic you take with you to toilet, to work, in-between classes. It will suck you in. AND THERE'S A SEQUEL TOO YOU GUYS‼️

The sole survivor in this story is the model for the Nuka Cola girl. You know the hot lady in the spacesuit? SHE HAS A BACKSTORY. AND YALL IT MADE ME WEEP. During some point of the story, I sort of stopped rooting for MacCready to be the narrator and just wanted Nora Cabot to take the reins. When I tell you I think of this oc every two to three business weeks. She's an incredible leading lady. I can't look at Nuka Girl posters in the game without thinking of Nora Cabot, my beloved.

the sequel IS SO FIRE. It's the best reimagining of 'what happened after the institute blew up' that I've ever read. im gnawing at the bars of my enclosure actually.

A VERY GOOD PLOT TWIST I CANNOT MENTION TO NEW READERS BUT IF YOU'VE READ IT YOU'LL UNDERSTAND. AND IF YOU UNDERSTAND DM ME I HAVE TO TALK TO SOMEBODY ABOUT IT. HHh.

The amount of world building that @bluegrasskitty puts into this story is insane. They ARE Beth Esda.

As a fun fact, I didn't know that radchickens were canon in fallout. I thought it was a plot device made up by this author to excuse the ability to make cake in this book, but radchickens ARE real. When I was playing Far Harbor last year, I found radchickens and thought that @bluegrasskitty manifested them into existence because they had that kind of power.

that being said, I still think this author has that kind of power.

1. Atom Bomb Baby on ao3 by @starlightwrites

I think you dropped something....my jaw.

fellas. fellas. this is my comfort fic. You ever had a comfort fic? Something you come back to at least once a year to reread to feel something? the fiction equivalent of chicken noodle soup? this is what Atom Bomb Baby is to me. this is peak literature actually. if I ever figure out book binding, im doing this one first.

Plot wise, it's a retelling of Fallout 4's main story through the perspective of MacCready. But (and im wheezing as I say this) it's also so much more THAN THAT.

this fic author understands that MacCready is not a womanizer but is in fact a touch starved loser. and they are CORRECT.

MacCready spends the entire fic like 'uuuhhhh I dunno about this one, boss!'

ITS BEST FRIENDS TO LOVERS RAHHHHHH

it also has a nostalgia feel to me too, because reading it gives me the same feeling as what it was like to play the game for the first time, years ago. maybe it's because I've read it so many times over the years, but reading it feels so satisfying.

The author spends 10 chapters at the end solely dedicated to an epilogue. I wish more stories did this. They go through the wringer in this story, and it's so deeply satisfying to see how cleanly everything gets wrapped up. MacCready and the Lola work really well together as a couple, so it's awesome to see how they work together after the battle is done.

6 out of 5 stars.

BONUS FICS !! aka fics that are still updating! I squeal with joy when I get an ao3 email about these: 1. Best Laid Plans on ao3 by @druidgroves - Georgia Tate is an incredible character and sole survivor! She was a teacher prewar, so it's really fun to get her perspective on the world. She cares a lot about education and libraries and I find her really relatable and endearing. It's a cool thing for a character in an apocalypse to care about! It also makes for fun tension with Mac, who's written as a pragmatic survivor. A great take on familiar characters and their dynamics. - And It's a great slow burn! I'm really enjoying reading it. 2. Long Time Running on ao3 by @twosides--samecoin - If you've ever thought that Med-Tek was too convenient an option for Duncan's cure, this fic was written with you in mind. - RJ goes to Canada and im obsessed with it. - If you're interested in fallout lore, specifically the bit where the U.S annexed Canada and wished that there was more info about that, I would highly recommend this fic. Twosides--samecoin put in THE WORK. The world building they do to explain Canada's side of the Great War is so fun!!! its genuinely such a thrill to read!

I'm tagging the authors who I mentioned, if you all have favorite fics (fallout or otherwise, I'd love to hear em!) Thank you for making good art!

[detailtilted]

1st Version of Main NASHCON J2 Panel (StageIt version) published by wasicologne

The StageIt video quality wasn't that great -- very dark and the colors are a little off. It was an awesome panel, though. I watched it on StageIt myself and I was laughing so much that I forgot to notice the bad video quality after a while. Hopefully somebody who was there in person also recorded it, the quality is bound to be better, but sometimes the recordings take a while to show up.

Despite the poor video quality, I'd definitely recommend watching them on StageIt if they ever do it again, and if you can spare $15. It was so fun to see their antics live, knowing it was happening in real life at that moment, even if they weren't physically in front of me. And at least nobody could see me grinning like an idiot. 🤣 I hope they do others like that. Just be prepared that, since they're often running behind schedule, it might not happen at the scheduled time. This one started an hour late. The staff did let us know though, so we weren't just sitting around for an hour wondering what was happening.

Edited to add: Another StageIt video was posted by Julie~Donn here. This one actually went up first; I just didn't see it when I first looked. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bBa-LdpKRVE I would expect both videos to be identical, but it never hurts to have multiple versions out there. If one peron's connection glitched for a few seconds, another recording might have what they missed.

Edited again to add: Apparently the first person changed their video to private. But there's a third StageIt video out there by Angel Grace Cas, so I'm adding that one to the collection: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EMoKPBWdWec

[parkvcrs]

Dating Ponyboy Curtis Would Include…

WARNING(S): brief mention of cigarettes.

NOTES: how i look trying to conjure up my outsiders phase: 🧙‍♀️🪄 alakazam!

• I feel like Pony would be the type of guy to like going on picnics with you.

- But not near where you two are from. Chances are that you two will try and sneak to the socs’ side of town, where it’s nicer, to have your picnics because the neighborhood that you’re both from isn’t exactly date material.

• You have tried time and time again to get Ponyboy to quit smoking, but it’s not exactly easy for him since he’s been doing it for quite some time (that and he burns through packs quickly). He appreciates how patient you’ve been with him… he’s trying his best, okayyy?

• If you don’t have homework, you usually just leave with Ponyboy after school, so you can watch him train for track & field. Since you don’t want to run, you usually sit on the school’s grass to shout words of encouragement to him as he passes you.

- Who needs the cheer team when you’re here?

• As expected, Pony loves to watch the sunsets and sunrises with you. There’s just something about it that’s so peaceful… but since he knows how cold it’ll be, he tries to bring a blanket and/or a few jackets ahead of time, so you two aren’t freezing.

• Ponyboy is an avid reader and because he is, he likes to read to you, with your permission, of course. He even recommends all his favorite books to you (and vice versa)!

• Ever since the incident with Bob Sheldon and the other socs, Pony had his hair dyed. Surprised you when you first saw it, but it didn’t take you long to get used to it. After all, he does pull off the blond look.

- Pony has decided, at least for the moment, to keep his hair blond. And whenever he needs help with it, he knows just the person to call: you! Plus, he knows that you’ll make it fun.

• You two rarely fight over anything. If you are, it never lasts long or is about the same thing (*ahem* his smoking problem *ahem*).

• Pony is an absolute gentleman. He will do stuff like pull out a chair for you, lend you a jacket when you’re cold, hold the door for you, things like that.

- He’s a great listener too! Don’t ever feel bad for needing to vent or choosing him to be the shoulder you cry on.

• I feel like Ponyboy would try passing notes to you in class. It has a 50% chance of working, so why not try it?

• He’s not great at eye contact, if anything, you make him shy at times because of how tightly you have him wrapped around your finger. Don’t worry though! He’s trying to get better at it.

• Ponyboy tends to get jealous. If and when he does, he tries his best not to make a big scene. He’ll usually end up draping his arm over your shoulder to pull you close to him, just so the guy you’re talking to gets the hint that you’re already seeing somebody.

[readnburied]

13 Moons Reading Challenge 2024 — Announcement

So it’s finally time for the announcement of the 13 Moons reading challenge for 2024. Another year, another list of prompts that will make your reading journey exciting. This reading challenge is created by me for the entire reading community. So if you love reading or are looking for a reading challenge to try for the upcoming year, then here is one for you. 

Rules & Levels

The rules for this reading challenge are simple. First of all, this is just for fun so no need to feel pressured into doing anything or reading anything you don’t want to. You can also be flexible with the prompts if you choose to do so. The challenge will run from January 1st, 2024 and till December 31st, 2024.

There are a total of 104 reading prompts divided into 13 categories. There is a list of levels given and you can choose which level you wish to participate in based on your preference. The levels you can participate in are as follows:

Penumbral Lunar Eclipse: 13 books — fulfill one prompt from each category 

Partial Lunar Eclipse: 26 books — fulfill at least one prompt from each category

Central Lunar Eclipse: 52 books — fulfill at least one prompt from each category

Total Lunar Eclipse: 104 books — fulfill all the prompts

The reading challenge is given below. I am trying to create a graphic for it, and if I succeed I’ll edit this post and attach the graphic later, but for now I will write it all down here in case you wish to participate and plan your TBR. So without further ado, here is the 13 Moons reading challenge 2024. 

13 Moons Reading Challenge 2024 

Wolf Moon

A Stand Alone novel

A furry creature on the cover

Hair on the cover

The words Straight, Waves or Curly in the title

Hair color in the title

A book about found family

A book about adoption

A book with a hierarchy

Snow Moon

The word White in the title

Blanket on the cover

Read a book while drinking a hot beverage

Read a book while burning a candle

Hat/Cap on the cover

A book about mountains

A book about a fresh start or a new beginning

A book with necromancy themes

Worm Moon

Read a book in a series with more than 5 books

A book about rebirth or reincarnation

A cozy book

Book about insects 

Continue a series

A book that gives you the creeps

A book you’re not sure about

A book you’re thinking of unhauling 

Pink Moon

A book with a princess

Book about women empowerment

A pink object on the cover

Book recommended by a celebrity 

Book that tickles you pink

A coming of age book

A celebrity memoir

Start a book on a new moon

Flower Moon

Book by a BIPOC author

Book about friendship

A book club pick

Book with an animated cover

Book with a character named after a flower

A speculative fiction

A book set in spring

Read a book at any time of the day 

Strawberry Moon

Read a book from your backlist

Read a book with Bubbles on the cover

A book with less than 400 pages

Book you see trending on social media

Read a book from an author which is new to you

A debut novel

Book with the word Leaf in the title 

Book about swimming 

Buck Moon

A book that has multiple editions

A Paperback

A book recommended by a friend

A biography

A book you’re seeing everywhere 

A 2024 release

A 5 star prediction 

Book with a Man on the cover 

Sturgeon Moon

Book with a map

Book that people have been forcing you to read

Book with a title that starts with the first letter of your name

Book you hauled recently

Book with a Tree on the cover

Book with the word Can’t in the title

Book with a dark cover 

A novella

Harvest Moon

An anthology

A book you had to read for an assignment

A book with a movie adaptation

Book you’d recommend to somebody else

A book chosen by somebody else

Book with a Fish on the cover

A fruit in the title

Book about a celebration 

Hunter’s Moon

Book about food

Book set in Europe

Book with an Umbrella on the cover

Book about a topic you’re curious about

An award winning book 

Read the 7th book on your shelf

Book with Buildings on the cover 

book divided into parts 

Beaver Moon

Book about a psychological phenomenon 

Book with the word Five in the title 

Book with a Street on the cover

Start a book in the evening

A book about a specific country 

A book from your monthly TBR

Book with a cover you don’t like 

Book about a single parent 

Cold Moon

Book set in the medieval times

Book with a Spider on the cover

Read a book while wearing a pair of socks

A memoir

Book about a historical event

Book with a character’s name in the title

Book you think you will love

Book from a Goodreads shelf

Blue Moon

Book with a unique format

Read a classic

Book with 3 or more people on the cover

Book recommended by your favorite social media influencer

Book with a dramatic title

Book with a Dagger in the story

Book set in high school

Book about a spy

And there you have it. This is the 13 Moons reading challenge 2024 for you all. Let me know if you like it. If you wish to participate I’d love it if you can comment below to tell me you’re participating in the challenge. If you don’t want to comment, that’s fine as well. As long as you enjoy doing the challenge, I’m happy. 

Happy Reading!!

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hello! I got recommended to send you an ask by a friend, so I am sending you an ask! Ive recently discovered that I seem to not enjoy the physical aspect of sex at all. I’ve bottomed for men with dicks, and just tonight had sex with a guy without one(I couldn’t get him to cum, but he was moaning, so I think I put more good into the world nonetheless), so I can assuredly say I’ve had all the ways I can physically use my body for sex wise. Well not all the ways but you know what I mean. And throughout all of it I didn’t feel much physical pleasure! I enjoyed getting topped mostly cause I thought the action was hot, I enjoyed topping the guy I had over tonight because he was enjoying himself. The most I’ve ever gotten from sex was from someone giving me oral which honestly was just warm and tickled more than pleasure. But I do still enjoy masturbating, so I don’t think I’m asexual; I do like making others cum.

Sorry for the long ass Paragraph, but I guess my question is whether or not you can make heads or tails of this, cause I can’t. I find the idea of having sex hot but don’t enjoy actual sex, and I don’t see how I have it this way. Sorry again

hi anon,

okay, listen, I have to say this before anything else: asexual people jack off. I mean, not all of them, but lots and lots of asexuals masturbate all the time. I'm not saying you are or aren't asexual, that's not for me to decide, but just know that whether or not you masturbate is completely irrelevant to whether or not you're asexual.

anyway, I'm afraid I don't quite understand the mystery here. you're not personally getting off during partnered sex, but are you enjoying it? you mentioned that you think getting topped is hot and you like getting other people off, so I have to hope you're having at least sort of a good time.

(if I'm reading this totally wrong and sex is miserable then please stop doing that, actually.)

look: having an orgasm doesn't need to be the #1 reason you have sex with other people. evidently you can do that yourself, right? to my mind, having sex with somebody else is about the things you can't get alone. it's about the intimacy with another person, about playing together, about acting out things you think are hot, about enjoying the experience of making each other feel things. it's fine to say "getting me off isn't really a priority, let's focus on you 👀 " and it's fine to have sex because you think it's fun and hot. the orgasm is just, like, one potential part of that, not the end all be all.