#is necessarily a flaw on your part

[soracities]

God I had such a wonderful literature teacher in high school. It pains me to admit that I spent most of his classes either sleeping or daydreaming about death and other equally depressing subjects. I remember thinking even then, I used to like books. Why can't I get myself through this readings why are all of these poems so lifeless to me? And like the rest of my classmates I just googled the Spanish equivalent for SparkNotes for all the readings and got a 10 in every exam. Now I find myself seeking out those same poems and sonnets and books and wishing I could turn back in time to actually listen to this passionate guy who had been all over Europe and knew 5 languages and lived so much and was so specific about which translation to get for every poem and have strong opinions about 10 other translations. I just want to grab my past self and shake them hard and scream "WAKE UP!!!!!! This thing you're ignoring right now will be the only spark of hope and joy you will find in your 20s please it's can save your life NOW if you manage to open your eyes and ears for a little bit"

Now I'm getting a degree in english, and I'm an auxiliary teacher at a primary school and it really feels a bit depressing to know that sometimes not even a great, passionate and talented teacher can make someone with an underlying interest in the subject actually pay attention and enjoy a high school class. Or maybe I was just an idiot and it's a me problem. Or maybe literature is meant to pass you by the first time around and make you go and get it out of your own will at your own time.

I think there's definitely something to be said for finding the right literature at the right time, absolutely--but I also think the fact that you still remember this teacher and the incredible passion and attentiveness he brought to those classes, that you are holding this recognition close to you now, even if you weren't able to give it the attention you wish you had at the time, counts for something, too 💕 in spite of everything something of his teaching still remained with you, even if it's being appreciated after the fact, and I think that, for most teachers, that impact alone means a great deal! Maybe you didn't appreciate the class itself, but you are appreciating the poems and those outlive every classroom and what greater influence is there than that? (And sometimes it's not even the subject itself that remains with you, but the actual teacher. I had an incredible English teacher also, but I know the impact she left on some of my friends had little to do with the poems and plays and everything to do with who she was as a person, and this is, I think, one of the most important things that come from a marvellous teacher)

I don't think you were an idiot at all--I think that whatever you were going through at the time must have been so immense, and as frustrating as it is to look back and wish you could have managed things differently, I think it's so important to allow yourself some grace for the fact that who you are now, looking back, and who you were then, are two different people--some circumstances, I think, are beyond a pupil and a teacher's control but we do the best we can with what we have, and what you have now, and what you had back then, probably look very, very different. Have you ever considered reaching out to your former literature teacher? Writing a letter or an email to let him now what you feel about his classes now, being older, and what this recognition means to you?

I think it's amazing that you are where you are now, with the passion you have now, and also with the awareness, even if you couldn't appreciate it at that time, of what a passionate teacher can bring because it will help make you a more attentive and better teacher as a result. I think teaching is one of those vocations you need to love with your entire being and if you can bring that love and that attentiveness with you to the best of your ability at any given time, then this counts for something, even if not immediately in the classroom itself 💕

[ajastu]

sigh...

[puts on my clown hat] alright. i need to say something.

people trying to say that trans/nonbinary representation in veilguard is the worst thing thats happened to the trans community in the last half a year (im exaggerating here but u get my point) need to sit down and ask themselves a couple of questions.

1. Are you nonbinary? If not, do you know someone who is? Have you talked to them about their experiences and what its like to not fit into the strict gender binary that permeates our society on almost every level?

2. Do you think that your experiences are universal?

if you answer no and yes in that order, then i'm going to have to ask you to please put the keyboard aside and go do some self-reflection.

Because frankly. I'm kind of starting to get sick of seeing binary people try to talk about this while completely not understanding the experience and also thinking that their personal perspective is the only true and correct one.

Like, the amount of times ive seen people COMPLETELY misinterpret the scene with Taash and Neve talking in the dining room is ridiculous.

Some things are just not about you. And that's okay <3

[kisskissgotohell]

i just wanna point out that, like. it's okay to disagree with the main character. just because they're the pov of the story doesn't mean they're infallible or that their word is law? you can like that character that tried to kill the mc. you can think the mc made the wrong choice. you can forgive things that the mc would never forgive, or choose not to forgive things that the mc does, because you're not the main character. you are the reader of the story, and just because you can't change it (and it's not the author's responsibility to capitulate to fans) doesn't mean you can't form your own opinions about it. it's fictional! that's the point! have fun with it!!

[jungkoode]

𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 | 24

⋆｡°✩ mirrors ✩°｡⋆

"When you're dealing with Jason, who talks about literature like it matters and opens car doors, the friendship bracelet feels like something from a different version of you. One that's messier, pettier, still half-formed."

next | index

⋆｡°✩ chapter details ✩°｡⋆

word count: 8k

content: coffee dates with intelectual men (jason derulooooo), friendship bracelet anxiety, protective!yoongi, mia aftermath discussions, tessa planning

✧ author's note ✧

Okay. Before you all start side-eyeing Jason for breathing, let's set something straight—you're biased. And you're totally valid for that.

This is a Jungkook x Reader fanfic. Obviously, we're all rooting for the emotionally constipated trauma boy who talks with his eyes and stores all his feelings behind gym towels and granola bars. I get it. I'm rooting for him too. But Jason is not here to steal your man. He's here to teach. To nudge. To trigger reflection. He's not necessarily here to stay—but he is important. For Y/N. For her growth. For us to see what it looks like when she's treated decently on surface level, so we can question what actually feels good, and what merely feels safe.

Jason, like every man I write, is not perfect. (You'd think I'd spare at least one of them but alas, I'm God here and a mean one.) Y/N is looking at him through rose-colored glasses—yes, that's intentional. But this is not your cue to dissect him like a frog and declare "something about him rubs me wrong, Kiki please kill him." Let's calm down, Hannibal. Not every man who isn't Jungkook is a villain in this story.

And speaking of bias—let's talk about Y/N. I want to gently remind you all: this story is told through her perspective. That means the narration is not omniscient. It's filtered through a lens of impulsivity, self-sabotage, and defense mechanisms. She's in her 20s and emotionally immature in ways that mirror her environment, her upbringing, her trauma. So yes—you'll read lines where she praises Jason and drags Jungkook through the mud like he owes her money. That's part of her architecture. Not mine. I don't write self-insert. I write character. And Y/N is doing what a lot of us do—projecting simplicity onto what's new and shiny, and demonizing what's familiar and complicated.

Because when you're operating from trauma, you fixate on the flaws that allow you to detach. On the safe narrative. Jungkook is socks on the couch. Jungkook is dumb. Jungkook is the roommate who yells too loudly when he's playing CoD. Not Jungkook who didn't burst into his bedroom during her panic attack because he knew she wouldn't want to be seen. Not Jungkook who's messy, perhaps not attentive when it comes to mugs in the sink—but attentive in the things that matter.

So yes. Y/N is unfair toward Jungkook in this chapter. And Jungkook is unfair toward her, too. And they will keep on being unfair and you'll want to scream and you'll say 'they're stupid' and yes they are. That's the point. That's humanity. That's how we cope—through flawed logic and messy defenses. It's ugly and real and mine.

Tessa. Let's go there. I've said it before, but I'll reiterate it loud enough for the back rows: Tessa is not the villain. She's not here to be the hot girl we all collectively throw into a fictional toilet. She's kind. She's respectful. She shares common interests with Jungkook. She's doing her thing. And that's exactly why she throws Y/N off. Because it would be easier to hate her if she were rude. If she were smug. But she's not. And that's the dissonance. That's the discomfort. Tessa would probably be a friend if the circumstances were different. But she's not. She's interested in Jungkook. And Y/N is sleeping with Jungkook. So while jealousy isn't the correct word, there's still that… gut feeling. That primal "mine" that you don't have to be in love to feel. Especially when someone's the only person who's ever made you feel wanted and safe in your body. (She did say he knows where the clit is. Let's not forget that.)

And Jungkook—again, for all his confusion and emotional hoarding—does not make fun of her for liking things. He forces her to confront her wants, to allow herself to enjoy things without guilt. Encourages them. Creates space for them. And she doesn't consciously realize that. But subconsciously? It's why she's defensive. Why she's scared of losing it.

Last thing I'll touch on: Yoongi. Because I love the way he shows up here—not loud, not meddling, but present. I made a point of explaining his schedule (beyond just plot convenience lmao) because I think it's important to portray him realistically. He's a producer. He's constantly working. And yet, when he is home, he doesn't overstep. He doesn't offer gossip. He doesn't reveal Jungkook's mess. He respects Jungkook's boundaries. He gives Y/N a branch. A little nudge. And if you know Yoongi, you know that's massive. That's someone who sees pain but respects the privacy of it. That's how love shows up in quiet friendships.

So yeah. That's Chapter 24. Not a love story. Not yet. It's a story about mirrors. About coping. About not knowing what you want until someone else tries to hand it to you, and you flinch.

Enjoy Jason while he's here. He's the first of some.

Now go read. Come back messy.

Love, Kiki (who writes enemies-to-lovers and then gets mad when they don't like each other yet) (ಥ﹏ಥ)

⋆｡°✩ read on✩°｡⋆

ao3

wattpad

Turns out seventy-something grandmothers also read vampire and werewolf books. 

Sunday shifts at Barnes & Noble are usually dead—just you, the books, and the occasional lost tourist looking for the bathroom. 

But today feels off-kilter, like everything's been shifted two inches to the left. 

You keep catching yourself touching the bracelet on your wrist, the beads spelling "ROGUE" pressed against your skin, a constant reminder of last night's decisions.

You still haven't taken it off. Haven't even considered it, really, which is weird because it's just a stupid tacky bracelet. Wearing it shouldn't mean anything. It's not like you and Jungkook are actually friends.

Are you?

…No. Definitely not. Just roommates who occasionally don't want to murder each other. Roommates who sometimes have really good sex. Roommates who made matching bracelets in a moment of insanity.

Fuck, that does sound like friendship.

"Excuse me, dear?"

The voice pulls you from your spiral, and you realize you've been staring at the same page of inventory for at least two minutes. 

The woman standing at your register is tiny, maybe five feet tall on a good day, with perfectly coiffed silver hair and pearl earrings that are definitely not fake.

"Sorry," you mutter, quickly scanning the five hardcover books she's placed on the counter. The entire Twilight saga, special edition with gold-edged pages. "Did you find everything okay?"

"Oh yes, thank you," she says, pulling out a wallet that looks expensive in that understated way rich people prefer. "My book club is doing a throwback month. We're revisiting our guilty pleasures."

You nod absently, focusing on bagging the books without making eye contact. Just get through this transaction and then you can go back to questioning your life choices in peace.

"So," she says as you process her credit card, "Team Edward or Team Jacob?"

Your head snaps up, certain you've misheard.

"I'm sorry?"

"The eternal question," she says with a wink. "Which supernatural suitor would you choose? The brooding vampire or the hot-headed werewolf?"

Is this happening? Is this actually happening right now? 

You stare at her, completely dumbfounded. 

She's got to be at least seventy, wearing a cashmere cardigan and sensible heels, asking you about fictional teen heart-throbs like you're at a middle school sleepover.

You open your mouth to give some non-committal answer, but then you remember Dora from the laundry room. How quickly you'd dismissed her as a cranky old lady, only to discover she was just a widow feeling lonely. 

Maybe this woman is the same—just looking for a moment of connection in her day.

"I'm honestly Team Alice," you say, surprising yourself with the genuine smile that forms. "She was probably a better choice than either of those two drama queens."

The woman's face lights up with delight. 

"Oh! Bold choice. I like that." She leans in conspiratorially, lowering her voice. "I'm Team Edward, myself. I guess I like old men after all."

A startled laugh escapes before you can stop it. "He is like a hundred years old in a teenager's body. Very problematic."

"Precisely why it's a guilty pleasure, my dear," she says, accepting the bag you hand her. "The best kind of fiction lets us enjoy things we'd find appalling in real life."

There's something weirdly profound about that statement coming from a pearl-wearing grandmother buying vampire romance novels on a Sunday afternoon.

"Enjoy your book club," you say, meaning it.

"I will. And you enjoy whatever team you're on," she replies with a wink, nodding toward your wrist where the friendship bracelet sits.

Before you can respond, she's walking away, her heels clicking rhythmically against the floor. 

You stare after her, feeling like you've just had some kind of surreal encounter with a Twilight-loving fairy godmother.

The rest of your shift passes in a blur of restocking shelves and helping lost customers find the bathroom. 

By the time you clock out, the Twilight grandma feels like a fever dream—something your brain made up to break the monotony. But the conversation stays with you, an unexpected bright spot in an otherwise tedious day.

You're still thinking about it when you unlock the apartment door three hours later.

"Hello?" you call out, dropping your keys on the entry table with a clatter.

Nothing.

The apartment is empty, the silence confirming what you already knew—you've got the place to yourself. 

No Yoongi with his silent judgment. No Griffin with his judgmental silence. And no Jungkook with his... 

…

Whatever.

You check your phone. 

An hour and a half until you're supposed to meet Jason for coffee. 

Plenty of time to shower away the retail grime and maybe even put on something that doesn't scream ‘I've been folding books for eight hours.’

As if sensing your thoughts, your phone pings with a text.

𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧: 𝚂𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 4? 𝚆𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚞𝚙? 

You bite back a smile. 

He's offering to pick you up? So he remembers where he dropped you off that one time after class? 

That's... actually kind of sweet. A guy who actually pays attention to details.

It's refreshing after dealing with Jungkook, who once put an empty milk carton back in the fridge and claimed he ‘didn't notice’ it was empty. Like someone just happened to drink all the milk and then carefully put the empty container back exactly where they found it. 

Idiot.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝, 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜! 𝚂𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚝 𝟺 ❤️

You don’t know why you’re using proper caps now, or why you add the heart emoji. It’s all without thinking, and you stare at it for a solid five seconds wondering if it's too much. 

But it's already sent, and honestly, it's just an emoji. Not like you're proposing marriage.

As you scroll back through your messages, another unread text catches your eye. From last night. When your phone pinged during the bracelet exchange with Jungkook.

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚑𝚎𝚢! 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚊 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝! 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚘 𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞! 𝚖𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎 𝚠𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚋 𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎? 𝚒'𝚖 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚓𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚍𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚎! 🥰

Oh.

Oh right.

Tessa from last night. The literal goddess with perfect hair who wanted your advice about dating Jungkook. The girl you told to go for it because, why not? He could do a lot worse than someone genuinely nice and put-together. 

You stare at the text for a long moment, trying to figure out what to say to that. Because it’s weird. It feels weird.

No, the weird feeling is probably just that you're not sure you want to get involved in Jungkook's love life. It's one thing to suggest Tessa make a move, but playing matchmaker? Giving ongoing advice? That's crossing into territory that feels uncomfortably personal.

Plus, you're kind of sleeping with him. Would be weird to help another girl date your fuck buddy. Not because you care who else he sleeps with—you don't. Obviously. But it would just be... awkward.

And what would you even say? ‘Hey Tessa, here's how to seduce my roommate: play hard to get, argue with him constantly, then jump his bones when he least expects it. Works for me!’

Yeah, no.

You set your phone down without replying. You'll deal with Tessa later. After your coffee with Jason. After you've had a shower and maybe some time to think about how to navigate this bizarre social situation you've somehow landed in.

As you head to the bathroom, you catch your reflection in the hallway mirror. You look tired, a little rumpled from your shift, but not terrible. Your eyes drift down to the colorful beads circling your wrist. ROGUE, spelled out in childish letter beads. 

You could take it off. Probably should, honestly. It's not like you're twelve, wearing friendship bracelets with your BFF.

But your fingers don't move toward the clasp. 

Instead, you just turn away from the mirror and continue toward the bathroom.

It's just a bracelet. It doesn't mean anything.

You'll take it off tomorrow.

Funny how a look can make you remember what it’s like to feel beautiful.

Jason’s car is clean. Not serial killer clean, but neat in a way that feels vaguely impressive for a guy who’s in grad school and not living off a diet of ramen and emotional repression. 

When you slide into the passenger seat, your dress rides up just a little, and you catch him glance—brief, polite, but definitely there. 

You don’t blame him. You look good.

Hair curled. Lip gloss strawberry-slick. Earrings you almost forgot you owned. The black dress is simple but it fits just right, hugging the curve of your waist like it was designed to hold you together when you forget how. 

You’d like to pretend you don’t care what Jason thinks, but you shaved above the knee and sprayed perfume behind your knees, so.

He smiles when he sees you, soft and almost surprised. “Hey. Wow.”

‘Wow’. Not ��you look nice’, not ‘I like your dress’. 

Just wow, like he wasn’t prepared for this version of you.

Like he’s seeing you, not the outfit.

You kind of love that.

“Hey yourself.” 

You buckle in and feel the nerves pull tighter in your chest. You’re not used to being nervous anymore. You’ve fucked your way through worse situations than this. 

But this isn’t sex. This is coffee. 

Somehow infinitely more exposing.

The drive is short, music low—Jason puts on some indie playlist that’s equal parts folky and hipster, and you catch lyrics about moons and bones and the way someone smells in spring. He doesn’t talk much on the way, but it’s not awkward. Just quiet. Thoughtful. There’s a kind of comfort in that, in not having to fill every second with chatter.

When you arrive, you wonder if you’ve accidentally agreed to a second location with a man who might bankrupt you. 

Because this coffee shop? It is sleek and minimalist, all marble tables and matte-black finishes, the kind of place where the baristas wear aprons and pour water like they’re performing surgery.

And holy shit, it smells amazing. Not in the burnt hazelnut way you’re used to from campus cafés, but rich, deep—vanilla and cinnamon and fresh grounds that probably cost more per ounce than your soul.

Jason holds the door open for you. Doesn’t make a big deal of it. Just does it like it’s second nature. And okay, fine, you notice that. You’re not made of stone.

You order the strawberry latte on a whim, mostly because the flavor name makes you smile—‘blushberry blossom’ (c’mon that’s such a cute name)—and partly because the idea of something pink and ridiculous feels like rebellion in a place this serious. Jason, for his part, gets a cortado.

You sit by the window, where light slants in gold and sharp across the marble, catching on the rim of your cup and your collarbone. 

Here, the world outside feels very far away—no Griffin knocking shit over, no roommates stomping around the apartment like emotional hurricanes. Just soft jazz and clinking spoons and the man across from you who keeps doing this thing where he leans in slightly when you talk, like he doesn’t want to miss anything you say.

“You really think that about Bishop?” he asks, eyebrows up.

You nod. “Yeah. I mean, it’s not that I think she hated women, but there’s definitely an internalized thing going on in the way she writes about domesticity. Like she’s performing detachment because that’s the only way to survive inside it.”

Jason exhales, a quiet sound of admiration. “That’s really smart.”

You shrug, suddenly a little too warm. 

Compliments on your appearance are easy to swat away. 

This kind—the you’re actually intelligent and I’m listening to you kind—sticks in your chest like static.

Your latte arrives, delicate as hell. Pale pink with foamy swirls and a single edible flower floating on top. Instagram bait. You take a sip, expecting something syrupy and fake, but it’s…

Huh.

You pause. Purse your lips. The taste is sweet, but not in a candy way. More like… too smooth. Like it’s missing bitterness. But it’s fine. Just—off, somehow. 

Not bad, just… not what you were expecting. 

You take another sip.

Still weird. Still fine.

You say nothing. Just keep talking, keep leaning into the conversation, because Jason’s eyes are lit up and he’s asking you questions like he actually cares about the answers.

You talk about poetry, about undergrad nonsense, about that one professor who only teaches in metaphors and might actually be a tree in disguise. Jason laughs at your jokes and adds his own and it’s easy. Like, actually easy. Like your brain isn’t doing somersaults trying to predict the next emotional landmine.

Halfway through the drink, he glances down at your wrist and tilts his head.

“Is that… a friendship bracelet?”

You glance at it before you remember it’s there. 

Your hand had been resting on the table, fingers curled lightly around your cup, the ROGUE beads facing up like they want to be seen.

Shit.

You forgot you were still wearing it. In fact, haven’t you been wearing it all day? All shift. Through your shower. Through putting on perfume. Through curling your hair. Through walking out the door knowing someone might see it.

You pull your wrist back instinctively. Not fast enough to be defensive, just enough to make it clear you hadn’t meant for it to be a conversation piece.

Jason doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t tease. Just raises his eyebrows, curious but not unkind.

“Oh,” you say, pretending it’s nothing. “Yeah. It’s—stupid. A joke, kind of.”

Jason’s brow furrows. “No, it’s cool. I mean, it’s cute. Just wasn’t expecting that from you.”

You laugh, a little too fast. “Yeah, me neither.”

“It’s not a bad look,” he offers. “Very… I don’t know. Vintage, maybe?”

He says it in the tone of someone trying to offer reassurance, not judgment. 

And that’s the thing, because he hasn’t said anything bad about it. 

It’s you. 

You feel it. That quiet little itch of self-consciousness blooming under your skin. 

And suddenly you are twelve years old, and someone just caught you doodling hearts in your notebook. 

You feel… silly.

Not because it’s a dumb bracelet—it is—but because it’s on your wrist in this place, with this person. 

With Jason, who talks about literature like it matters, who picked you up on time, who smells like sandalwood and books, who looks at you like he’s trying to memorize your mouth.

The bracelet feels like something from a different version of you. One that’s messier, pettier, still half-formed. The version that knocks Jungkook’s protein powder off the counter just to watch him flinch. The one who keeps secrets in locked journals under the bed.

You press your wrist lightly against your thigh under the table, hiding it without really hiding it. Jason doesn’t press. He just sips his coffee and asks what you think about Rainer Maria Rilke.

You tell him. You talk about how Letters to a Young Poet changed the way you understood loneliness. About how writing doesn’t have to be for anyone else. About how maybe there’s something holy about solitude when it’s chosen.

He listens like the world’s on mute.

And maybe, just maybe, you start to believe the things you’re saying. Maybe you start to feel like someone worth listening to.

“You should read this essay by Gilbert and Gubar,” he says, pulling out his phone to make a note. “I’ll send you the link. It’s about the madwoman in the attic as a feminist symbol. Might give you some interesting perspectives.”

“That would be great,” you say, soft smile tugging at your lips. 

It’s been ages since you’ve had a conversation like this—someone who not only gets your academic interests but actively engages with them.

“You’re really smart, you know that?” he says suddenly, setting down his mug. “Like, genuinely insightful. You should consider applying to graduate programs.”

The compliment catches you off guard, warmth spreading through your chest. 

“I’ve thought about it,” you admit. “But it’s competitive. And expensive.”

“True,” he nods. “But there are fellowships. And based on what I’ve heard from you in class and now, I think you’d have a shot.”

You take another sip of your too-sweet latte to hide how pleased you are. It’s not that you need validation, but… okay, maybe you do, a little. Who doesn’t?

“I could help you look into programs, if you want,” he offers. “No pressure, just… I know the landscape pretty well.”

“That would be amazing, actually,” you say, meaning it.

By the time you’ve both finished your drinks, the afternoon light has shifted. You’ve been talking for over two hours, and it’s only when you check your phone that you realize how much time has passed.

“I should probably get you home,” Jason says, checking his watch reluctantly. “I’ve got a stack of papers to grade before tomorrow.”

“Right,” you nod, equally reluctant to end the afternoon. “Teaching assistant duties call.”

“Unfortunately,” he sighs, then brightens. “But I’d love to do this again. Maybe dinner next time?”

“I’d like that,” you say, and you really would.

After 10 minutes in his car, you think he’s turning toward your apartment. 

You’re wrong.

Jason’s blinker flicks left instead of right, merging smoothly into traffic like this isn’t a diversion. Like it’s part of the plan.

You glance over, raising an eyebrow. “Um. Home’s the other way.”

He smiles, eyes still on the road. “I know. I wanted to show you something first.”

Your chest flutters—nothing dramatic, just a soft little hum, like the opening notes of a song you don’t recognize but already like. You sink back into the seat and let yourself be curious.

The drive winds west, toward the river, buildings falling away into stretches of old brick warehouses and glass condo towers that look like they belong in an entirely different version of your life. One where you probably own a milk frother and know what saffron tastes like.

Jason doesn’t say much, just tunes the radio to some local jazz station and hums softly along. The golden hour light cuts sideways through the windshield, warm and syrupy, painting the world in blush and amber.

He pulls over near a quiet overlook, where the road widens into a shoulder and the guardrail curls just enough to frame the view. The Hudson stretches wide in front of you, molasses-slow and glittering under a sky that’s all pinks and orange melt, the kind of sunset you always say you’ll watch more often but never do.

He doesn’t make it a thing. Just kills the engine, unbuckles his seatbelt, and nods toward the passenger side.

“Come on.”

You follow, caught in that half-stunned, half-swoony state that makes your steps feel floaty. 

The air outside is cooler than you expect, touched with that river dampness that curls around your ankles and lifts the hair on your arms. The water looks like glass, rippling only when the wind brushes across it.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, stepping closer to the edge. 

The view is stupid. Like, actually unfair. The sky’s a cliché in real time—cotton candy pink and tangerine and just the faintest smear of lavender toward the edges. 

You pull out your phone without thinking, framing the scene like muscle memory.

One shot.

Then another.

Then one with your shoulder in the corner, just to prove you were here.

Jason stands a little off to the side, hands in the pockets of his coat. 

He’s not watching the view—he’s watching you look at the view, which somehow makes it feel even more unreal.

“I didn’t want the date to end in a parking lot,” he says quietly.

You smile down at your phone, thumbs already moving. You pick the best one, swipe through a filter, drop the saturation just a little. Caption: this sky is a lie and I’m letting it.

You post without thinking. It’s just a sunset. It’s just a moment. But it feels worth remembering.

A notification pops up a few seconds later. Like.

Then another.

Then—

35mmghost liked your photo.

You blink.

Snort.

Okay. What?

You don’t say anything, just stare at the name for a beat longer than necessary. 

35mmghost. 

That is… not what you expected Jason’s Instagram handle to be. If it is Jason’s. Which would be hilarious. And weirdly endearing.

You flick a glance toward him. He’s smiling to you, with his phone between his fingers. Like you just caught him.

He just pockets it and gazes out at the river like he’s trying to memorize it. 

You file it away. Not important. Probably. Just… cute.

Jason, apparently, has a secret artsy side. 

And a dramatic username.

Ghost, really?

You like it. Quietly. Silently. The same way he let you have the view.

He doesn’t know you noticed. Doesn’t try to impress you with it.

And for once, you don’t overanalyze. You just let yourself stand there, cheeks a little pink from the wind and the compliment still buzzing somewhere behind your ribs, watching the sky slide into dusk like it’s not even trying to be beautiful.

Like it just is.

When he finally drives you home, you find yourself feeling lighter than you have in weeks. 

There’s something refreshingly straightforward about Jason. 

No games, no cryptic comments, no emotional whiplash. 

Just a smart, mature guy who seems genuinely interested in you.

When he pulls up to your building, he gets out to open your door again—which still feels like something from a movie rather than real life.

“Thanks for today,” you say, standing awkwardly on the sidewalk. 

Is this the part where you kiss? You’re not sure what the protocol is here.

Jason solves the dilemma with a warm smile and a slight step back—respecting your space in that careful way that somehow makes him even more attractive.

"Thank you for making my Sunday exponentially better," he says.

It's such a nerdy, earnest thing to say that you can't help but smile. 

"Exponentially, huh?"

"At least by a factor of ten," he confirms with a grin. "I'll text you about dinner?"

"Sounds good."

You watch him drive away, a pleasant buzz of anticipation tingling in your chest about seeing him again. 

For once, your love life seems straightforward and uncomplicated. 

A mature guy who's exactly what he appears to be. What a fucking novelty.

When you finally make it upstairs, the apartment is still quiet. Still empty. 

You kick your shoes off at the door and shrug off your coat, fingers catching on the thin leather strap of your bag. You leave it on the couch and walk straight to your room, not bothering to turn on any lights. 

There’s enough spill from the windows to see by—blue-gray and soft, the city humming faint in the background like a lullaby that never really ends.

You catch your reflection in the mirror again. 

Dress still hugging you right, lip gloss faded but not completely gone. Your cheeks are flushed in that way that feels natural, earned. 

You look good. You feel good.

But your gaze drifts. Down to your wrist.

There it is. Bright and stupid and clunky against the sleek black of your dress. 

ROGUE.

It looks even more ridiculous now than it did in the café. Like a tacky souvenir trying to pass in a room full of doctoral candidates.

You sigh.

It’s not that you’re ashamed of it, exactly. 

Just… aware of it. 

In a way you weren’t before. 

Aware of what it signals—about you, about the you that exists in here, in this apartment. 

The one who fights over fridge space and burns frozen pizza and still hides snacks under the bed like you’re prepping for an apocalypse Jungkook might eat through.

Jason didn’t make you feel bad about it. Not at all. 

But there was that little jolt of being seen in a way you didn’t mean to be. Like wearing pajamas to class by mistake.

You run your thumb over the beads. They’re slightly warm from your skin, the elastic stretched just enough to make a faint indent on your wrist. 

It’s silly. 

So fucking silly. 

You shouldn’t have even worn it out. It doesn’t belong in cafés with marble tables and edible flowers. Doesn’t belong with guys who talk about Rilke and open your door and make you feel like your brain is the most interesting thing about you.

It belongs here. Inside these walls. In the shared chaos of mismatched mugs and territorial coffee wars and Griffin sleeping on your face. 

It belongs in the version of you that forgets to do laundry and screams at reality TV and gets off with your roommate like it’s just another way to burn through stress.

Maybe it’s time to choose. Or at least… edit.

You slide the bracelet off. Slowly. Carefully. Set it down on your dresser, next to the copy of The Bell Jar you’ve been meaning to reread and a half-burnt candle that smells like peaches and something faintly smoky.

You’ll still wear it sometimes. Just not… when you go out with Jason. Not when you want to feel sleek and composed and like maybe, just maybe, you’re building something a little more deliberate than chaos. 

Maybe that’s okay.

You leave it where it is.

And you don’t stop to think whether Jungkook is even wearing it at all.

“You’re alive?”

The words slip out before you can stop them, a bit too loud for a quiet apartment and a bit too sarcastic for someone who just walked through the front door. 

But it’s Yoongi. You’re pretty sure he came out of the womb with a glare and noise-cancelling headphones.

He gives you a flat look, keys jingling as he kicks the door shut behind him. 

No hello, no how was your day, just a flick of his eyes from your face to your bare legs stretched across the coffee table, one foot propped up like you’re posing for a toenail polish ad no one asked for.

“Didn’t expect you home,” you add, waving your freshly painted big toe in his direction. “Figured you were off ghosting the apartment all weekend like usual.”

He drops his messenger bag by the door with a soft thud, shrugs like the weight of being perceived is too much.

“Didn’t have that much work today,” he says, deadpan, already halfway to the kitchen. “Been overworking all week. Even I get tired of being productive.”

You blink. “Wait—you work on Sundays?”

“I work always,” he calls back, grabbing a mug from the cabinet like it personally offended him. “What’s your point?”

You roll your eyes, adjusting your foot on the arm of the couch so the polish doesn’t smudge. 

“My point is, maybe stop pretending you’re not a person and do something degenerate for once. Watch trash TV. Go outside.”

“I went outside,” he mutters, reaching for the coffee grounds. “Regret it.”

“You’re making coffee now?” You glance at the clock. “You’ll be awake all night.”

“Mm,” Yoongi says, which is less a response and more a vibe. “Not like I’ve slept properly in a week anyway.”

“That sounds healthy,” you sing, flicking the cap back onto the nail polish bottle. 

You don’t know when this stopped being weird—talking to him like this. 

It’s not friendship, exactly, but it’s not not that either. 

Comfortable-ish. Low maintenance. The kind of dynamic that doesn’t need checking in.

Griffin trots out from wherever he was napping, tail flicking with that ‘where the fuck is my dinner, peasants’ energy.

You lean over and scratch behind his ear. “Still no sign of your boy?”.

Yoongi shrugs —his primary form of communication—then cups his hands around his mouth and yells, “JUNGKOOK!”

The silence that follows is answer enough.

“Nah, he’s not home,” Yoongi confirms unnecessarily.

You roll your eyes, screwing the cap back on your nail polish. “Thanks for the thorough investigation.”

You go back to focusing on your second foot, tongue poking out slightly as you try not to smear the top coat. 

Then—

“Hey,” he says, casual but not. “By the way…”

You pause, brush hovering mid-air.

“…I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

Your stomach drops. 

Those words never precede anything good. 

Is he kicking you out? Did you do something wrong? Is the rent going up? Did he find your secret stash of chocolate-covered pretzels hidden behind the rice?

“Okay…” you say cautiously, sitting up straighter. “What’s up?”

Yoongi takes a sip of his coffee, still not meeting your eyes. The silence stretches just long enough to make your anxiety spike before he finally speaks.

“It’s about Jungkook.”

Oh.

Oh no.

Did Jungkook complain about you? Is Yoongi about to give you some weird roommate intervention? Does he know about the… arrangement you and Jungkook have? 

God, that would be mortifying.

“What about him?” you ask, aiming for casual but landing somewhere closer to defensive.

Yoongi presses his lips together like he’s trying to decide if speaking is worth the effort. Spoiler: it usually isn’t.

Then—quiet, low: 

“Back at the karaoke place… you met Mia, right?”

You freeze mid-swipe, the brush hovering just above your toenail. There’s a split second where your brain tries to play dumb. Pretend you didn’t. Pretend you forgot. But your body answers before your mouth does—shoulders tensing, breath pulling tight behind your ribs.

“Yeah,” you say slowly. “I remember.”

And you do. Perfectly. Chanel and Louboutins and weaponized perfume. Voice like saccharine venom and teeth too white to be trustworthy. 

You remember the grip on your arm. The way Jungkook looked—vacant, off, like someone unplugged him at the base of the spine.

Yoongi nods once, eyes fixed on his coffee like it might offer divine clarity.

“I need to know what happened.” 

His voice isn’t demanding, not exactly. Just… steady. Firm in a way you’ve never heard from him before. 

“What did she say to him?”

You shift on the couch, pulling your knees up to make room for Griffin, who hops beside you with zero regard for the wet polish on your toes. 

You don’t answer right away. Not because you’re trying to avoid it—it’s just that you’re not sure how to answer.

Yoongi doesn’t push. Just waits.

You glance toward the kitchen, then back at him. 

“I didn’t hear everything,” you start. “She was already talking to him when I found them. I didn’t even know who she was at first, just thought—some random girl, y’know?”

He nods once. Still waiting.

“She was dressed like she had three bodyguards waiting outside,” you add, because you can’t help yourself. “Total Upper East Side vibes. Like she was slumming it for the night.”

That earns a dry little huff from Yoongi. Almost a laugh. Almost.

Your fingers twitch against your thigh. 

“She knew it was his birthday,” you say, softer now. “Said it all sweet but—like. Fake sweet, you know? Like she was performing nice but wanted him to feel like shit for not inviting her.”

Yoongi’s jaw ticks as he listens. He’s still holding the coffee mug, but you can tell he’s not really drinking anymore. Just holding it like a prop.

“She said…” Your voice trails off. You swallow. “She said, ‘Try not to have too much fun without me.’ And something about his dad. I didn’t catch all of it. But her tone—it was like… she wanted to rattle him.”

Now Yoongi finally looks at you. Not full on, not probing, but enough to catch your face in his periphery. 

“She mentioned his dad?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “Just—like, she knew it’d hit a nerve. She said something about ‘not replacing her’ or whatever. I don’t know the full context, but... whatever it was, it fucked with him. He looked—”

You pause. 

The image flashes in your head: Jungkook standing in the hallway, motionless. His face locked down, shoulders tight. Like something inside him had short-circuited.

“He looked small,” you say quietly. “Scared. Not like himself.”

Yoongi takes that in. Doesn’t react right away. He just huffs out a breath through his nose and leans back against the edge of the kitchen counter.

Another pause.

Then: “She’s good at that.”

He says it flatly. No inflection. No explanation.

You tilt your head. “You know her?”

“Not much. But I know exactly what he looked like after her.”

You’re quiet, sensing the line. The invisible perimeter Yoongi keeps between what’s his to share and what isn’t.

“I’m not asking for his secrets,” you say, meaning it.

“Good,” he replies instantly. “Because they’re not mine to give.”

That makes you like him more. Irritatingly so.

You don’t push. But your gaze stays on him, curious.

Yoongi shrugs, finally setting his mug down on the counter. “I’ve only known him for a year and a half, so I wasn’t around back then. Not for most of it. But she left damage.”

You stay quiet.

“She knows his pressure points. Knows when to act like she’s joking and when to twist the knife.” He rubs the back of his neck like he hates even saying this out loud. “Jungkook’s got a... hard time with boundaries. Especially when it comes to people he used to love.”

Used to. Interesting phrasing.

Your lips part slightly, but Yoongi’s already waving a hand like he regrets going this far. “Anyway. Not my drama. Just wanted to know what she said. He didn’t tell us much.”

“Us?”

Yoongi shrugs again, folding his arms. “Me, Taehyung, Hobi. The ones that showed up when she blew everything up.”

You blink. “Blew everything up?”

He gives you a look. Not mean. Not angry. Just—measured. Like he’s deciding how much to trust you.

“I said too much already,” he mutters. “But yeah. That hallway thing? That wasn’t nothing. I just needed to hear it from someone who saw it up close.”

You nod slowly. “Makes sense.”

Silence again. Not uncomfortable exactly. But heavy.

Yoongi runs a hand through his hair and glances down at Griffin, who’s now making biscuits into a throw pillow like he pays rent. 

“He didn’t tell you anything, huh?”

“No.” The word comes out before you can stop it. Then, quieter: “He just said he needed air.”

Yoongi exhales. “Figures.”

You want to ask more. About Mia. About Jungkook. About what the hell happened that’s got Yoongi this protective over someone he’s known for less than two years. But something in his expression makes you hold your tongue.

So you just nod, brushing your fingers lightly over Griffin’s back.

After a beat, you say, “Thanks for telling me. Even if it was just a little.”

Yoongi lifts his coffee mug in a half-toast. “Don’t read into it. You were there. I needed intel. That’s all.”

You smirk. “Sure.”

But you both know that’s not all.

Not even close.

"Wait," you call out just as Yoongi's about to disappear completely. 

You're not sure why you feel compelled to say this—it's not like you owe Tessa anything—but after everything you've just learned about Mia, it feels important somehow.

Yoongi pauses, hand on his doorknob, eyebrows raised in silent question.

"That girl at the birthday party," you say, the words tumbling out before you can overthink them. "Tessa? I think she genuinely likes him. Like, in a normal way."

You don't know why you're telling him this. 

Maybe because after hearing about Mia's toxicity, the idea of someone simple and sweet being interested in Jungkook feels like information worth sharing. 

Yoongi tilts his head slightly. "The ginger one? Sat next to him?"

"Yeah," you nod, surprised he noticed. "She asked for my advice, actually. About him. She wants to get coffee with me to talk about it."

"Huh." Yoongi leans against his doorframe, considering this. "She seemed... nice."

The way he says ‘nice’ makes it sound like he's describing an alien species he's only read about in textbooks.

"She is nice," you confirm. "Like, genuinely nice. Soft. Girly.  Probably doesn't have any emotional baggage or toxic exes lurking around corners."

You're babbling now, but you can't seem to stop. 

Because you feel guilty. 

Because you told this nice beautiful girl to go for an emotionally stunted dude who apparently has way too much baggage. 

Because maybe Jungkook is not even ready for any of this.

"I told her to go for it. With Jungkook, I mean. Before I knew about... all this Mia stuff."

Yoongi's expression shifts subtly—a slight narrowing of the eyes. "You're playing matchmaker now?"

There's no judgment in his voice, just curiosity, but you feel defensive anyway.

"Not matchmaking," you clarify. "Just... I don't know. Being supportive? She asked, I answered. It's not a big deal."

"Right," Yoongi says, in a tone that suggests he thinks it might actually be a big deal. "And how does Jungkook feel about Tessa?"

You shrug, suddenly realizing you have no idea. "I don't know. They're in some classes together I think. He hasn't mentioned her."

"Jungkook doesn't mention a lot of things," Yoongi points out.

"True." You fiddle with the cap of your nail polish, avoiding his gaze. "I just thought... she’s nice. And so pretty. I just thought… maybe it could do him some good—before I even knew about this, I mean.”

Yoongi makes a noncommittal sound. "Maybe."

"You don't think so?"

He shrugs. "It's not about what I think. It's about whether Jungkook's ready for someone new. Especially someone... nice."

The way he says it makes you wonder if ‘nice’ is a liability in Jungkook's world. 

If after someone like Mia, ‘nice’ feels too foreign, too simple.

"Well, I already told her to go for it," you say, feeling suddenly uncertain. "Should I... un-tell her?"

Yoongi actually smiles at that—a small, fleeting thing, but definitely a smile. "No. Let it play out. Who knows? Maybe you're right. Maybe nice is exactly what he needs."

He doesn't sound convinced, but he doesn't sound dismissive either.

"Okay," you say, relieved. "I just... wanted you to know. Since we're apparently on Team Jungkook now."

Yoongi snorts. "I've always been on Team Jungkook. You're the new recruit."

"I didn't exactly volunteer," you point out.

"And yet here you are," he says, "worrying about his love life."

You open your mouth to protest, then close it again. 

He's not wrong.

"Anyway," Yoongi continues, "thanks for telling me about Tessa. And about what happened with Mia."

You nod, feeling like you've passed some kind of test you didn't know you were taking.

Yoongi gives you one last unreadable look before finally retreating into his room, the door clicking shut behind him.

You sit there for a moment, processing the entire bizarre conversation. 

In the span of fifteen minutes, you've gone from painting your toenails in peaceful solitude to being drafted into some kind of Protect Jungkook squad with Yoongi, of all people.

Life in Apartment 6B just keeps getting weirder.

Thirty-seven minutes later, you're sprawled on your bed, hair still damp from the shower, staring at Tessa's unanswered text like it's a bomb you need to defuse.

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚑𝚎𝚢! 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚝𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚢𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚍𝚊𝚢? 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚋 𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎? 🙂

You’re second-guessing everything after that conversation with Yoongi. 

Should you really be encouraging Tessa to pursue Jungkook when you know he's still dealing with Mia-shaped emotional shrapnel? Is it fair to either of them?

But then again, who are you to play gatekeeper to Jungkook's love life? Maybe Tessa is exactly what he needs—someone sweet and uncomplicated. Someone who doesn't have the baggage of a toxic ex or whatever the hell happened with his father.

You groan and flop back against your pillows. 

Why do you even care? 

It's not like you and Jungkook are anything to each other. You're just roommates who occasionally fuck. 

You’re barely even… friends.

The word acquires a weird shape in your mind.

You pick up your phone again, determined to respond to Tessa without overthinking it.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚑𝚎𝚢𝚊! 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚕𝚢. 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚝 2 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎. 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚠𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚝?

You hit send before you can change your mind. 

It's just coffee. It's not like you're arranging a marriage.

Truth is, next week’s already packed—Yeji’s gallery prep, that shift you picked up for someone who ‘owes you one’ but never actually pays up, and whatever Jungkook’s been muttering about needing help with but refusing to ask. 

It’s easier to just skip ahead. Two weeks. Feels safer. Less chance of Tessa becoming something to manage short-term.

Her response comes almost immediately.

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚊𝚑𝚑𝚑 𝚢𝚊𝚢𝚢𝚢 🥰! 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎’𝚜 𝚊 𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚂𝚢𝚛𝚞𝚙 𝚘𝚗 𝙴. 𝟷𝚜𝚝 𝚂𝚝. 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚏𝚊𝚛, 𝚠𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞!

You know Syrup—it's one of those Instagram-bait cafés with latte art and avocado toast that costs more than your hourly wage. Not exactly your usual haunt, but it's not too far from campus.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚢𝚛𝚞𝚙 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚜! 𝚒’𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚝 2 💕

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝! 𝚒’𝚖 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚘 𝚎𝚡𝚌𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚞𝚙! 

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚕 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜!!!

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚:𝚒 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚍𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠? 🤗

You stare at the message, a knot forming in your stomach. 

Because you don't ‘get’ Jungkook. Not really. 

You didn't know about his dad, or the full extent of the Mia situation, or why he disappeared to the rooftop that night. 

You know he likes John Mayer and makes good coffee and his favorite position is cowgirl.

You know he smells like rain and his hands are always warm and he secretly carries cat treats around.

But those are just details, not understanding.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚒 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚒 ’𝚐𝚎𝚝’ 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚎𝚡𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚎 𝚛 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚒𝚏 𝚒 𝚌𝚊𝚗 :) 

That feels safer. 

Better to lower her expectations now than have her think you're some Jungkook whisperer with all the answers.

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚊𝚑, 𝚝𝚘𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢! 

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚒 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠? 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚢, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗'𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕, 𝚒 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚕!!

Intimidated by Jungkook? 

The idea is almost laughable. 

How could you be intimidated by someone who once spent twenty minutes trying to coax Griffin out from under the couch with a piece of string cheese?

But then you remember how other people see him—the sharp jawline, the tattoos, the way he carries himself like he’s not actually dumb as hell. 

You can see how someone like Tessa might find him intimidating.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚙𝚏𝚏𝚏𝚏𝚏

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚜 𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕 𝚍𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚡, 𝚜𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚎𝚡𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚖

You hesitate, then add:

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜, 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚘 𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠

It feels important to add that caveat, even if you're not sure why. 

Maybe because of what Yoongi told you. 

Maybe because you've seen glimpses of that complication yourself.

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚑𝚊𝚑𝚊𝚑𝚊 𝚒 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠!!

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚢𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜, 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗, 𝚋𝚞𝚛 𝚒 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝? 

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎, 𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚞𝚢

You frown at the screen. There's something about her response that doesn't sit right with you. Like she's romanticizing the very things that make Jungkook difficult—the walls he puts up, the emotional distance, the complications Yoongi hinted at.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝… 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚐𝚘 𝚒𝚗 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚌𝚘𝚖 𝚢𝚔? 𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚊 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚘𝚕

You hit send, then immediately regret your tone. That came off way harsher than you meant it to. You're about to type a follow-up when Tessa's reply appears.

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚘𝚑 𝚐𝚘𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 🙈 𝚒'𝚖 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎 𝚛𝚗

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚒 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚒'𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚞𝚜𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜 

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝... 𝚠𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗-𝚠𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚖𝚜? 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚋𝚘𝚢 😣

Oh. That's actually... kind of sweet. Seems like Jungkook really does have a thing for Korean cinema.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚗𝚘 𝚗𝚘 𝚒 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝! 𝚒 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎... 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚙𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚙𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚢𝚔?

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚑 𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚖. 𝚒 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚘!

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚒'𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚠/ 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚖 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎! 𝚖𝚢 𝚍𝚊𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚔

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚛𝚘𝚙 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚝𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚕 🙈

Your heart softens a little. There's something vulnerable about the way she just shared that personal detail, then immediately apologized for it.

It reminds you of how you sometimes overshare when you're nervous, then backpedal frantically.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚗𝚘 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚣𝚎! 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚕 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚍𝚊𝚍. 𝚒'𝚖 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚘 :(

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜 💕 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚘. 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚒'𝚖 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚖! 

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚒 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 ��𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚒 𝚍𝚘? 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚞𝚜𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚜 😔

That actually makes a lot of sense. You can see why she'd be drawn to Jungkook if they share this interest. 

And you know from experience how rare it is to find someone who genuinely cares about the things you're passionate about.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚘𝚗! 

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒 𝚝𝚘𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝚜𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 🙄

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝?? 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚔𝚊𝚛-𝚠𝚊𝚒 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚕

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚒 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚘𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖? 

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚎 🥺

You can't help but smile a little. She’s clearly excited she is to have found someone who shares her interests. You remember feeling that way with Jason today, when he actually engaged with your thoughts on literature instead of just nodding along.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚎! 

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚋𝚝𝚠 𝚒 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚛. 𝚒 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚛𝚗

Tessa takes a moment to reply, the ellipses blinking thoughtfully.

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚘𝚑 :( 𝚒 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚝

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚘 💕

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚎!! 𝚒'𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚑𝚞𝚜𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚑𝚊𝚑𝚊 𝚒 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛? 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚠𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚏𝚏?

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒 𝚝𝚘𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚜 𝚞𝚙!! 𝚒'𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚕 🤞

Okay, that feels reasonable. She's acknowledging your concern without getting defensive, and clarifying her own expectations. 

Maybe she's more level-headed than you initially gave her credit for.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚘𝚔𝚊𝚢 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍!! 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 <3

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚒'𝚖 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚜𝚘 𝚒'𝚖 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚘𝚞𝚝 😴

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚌 𝚞 𝚝𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚢𝚛𝚞𝚙! :)

Time to bow out before you accidentally become her relationship coach.

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕!! 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐!! 🥺✨

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚍𝚊ｙ!! 💖

You put your phone down, feeling a sense of closure on that front, at least for tonight. 

Tessa seems sweet, if a little naive about the potential complications involved with Jungkook. 

But she's also genuinely interested in him for reasons that make sense, and she seems aware enough to proceed with caution.

You roll over, pulling the covers tighter. 

It's weird, offering dating advice about your roommate who you're also sleeping with to a girl you barely know. 

Weirder still that you actually kind of... like her? And want things to work out okay for her?

Maybe you're growing up. Or maybe you're just tired.

Either way, Tuesday is going to be interesting.

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© jungkoode 2025

no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[hobbitkiller]

The complexity and nuance of Arcane isn’t that there’s a class conflict. That’s the straightforward, obvious, surface conflict. If your analysis of Arcane doesn’t get beyond that, you are very shallowly scratching the surface.

When it comes to the class themes of Arcane (which are not the only ones) the nuance and depth come from realizing that such conflicts are rarely so simple. People who come from the oppressed class can, in turn, oppress their own people. People can benefit from being part of the rich/oppressor class without realizing how they benefit from the system, and even those who see it can struggle to break from their own privilege. Some people are most concerned with harm reduction while others seek radical change. Sometimes, the only way to move forward is in step with the person who was just holding you back. Arcane lays all of this out, and, yes, that can be unsatisfying. Black and white stories where there’s a clear good guy and bad guy can be comforting, and there are certainly some very good stories that are that way, but that wasn’t what Arcane set out to do.

Arcane did its best (which I personally believe was fantastic) to humanize everyone, even Silco and Ambessa—to not necessarily excuse but to explain why we do the horrible things we do. For love? Yes. And fear, anger, greed, pride, altruism, hope, and despair. It was not interested in condemning its characters for their flaws but rather showing them either fighting to overcome them or falling victim to them like any decent tragedy would do.

It’s a disservice to the narrative to flatten that complexity to rich = bad, poor = good.

[hazbinhotei]

a little too prideful.

read part two (a semi-standalone comfort fic) here

warnings: blood, mimzy, violence & gore (alastor), injury & gun violence (you), cannabalism (alastor again), light angst w/ a happy ending

word count: 3735

summary: When Mimzy lures a group of vengeful loan sharks to the hotel, you’re left to deal with the fallout—both physically and emotionally—while Alastor is forced to realize that his pride blinded him to the one thing that truly mattered: you. (story takes place during ep. 5)

alastor x f!reader—technically gn!reader minus the ~two instances i use 'her' pronouns for clarity. whoo this one's a doozy. i'm not necessarily sure if i'm proud of how this turned out, especially since a good chunk is just taken from episode 5. i also struggle a lot with multi-character scenes like this, so please let me know if i could improve on anything. nonetheless, though, i hope you all enjoy!

Life at the Hazbin Hotel with Alastor was many things—chaotic, unconventional, but above all, it was yours. The two of you had carved out a comfortable existence amidst the madness, his constant grin and ever dramatic behavior a fixture in your day-to-day life. It was hard not to adore the way he’d hum while cooking, or the way he’d twirl you in the hallway just for the fun of it. You had accepted him despite all his flaws, including his particular flaw of being obsessive over his power. But, hey, they don’t just call it the Pride Ring for no reason.

Tonight was no different. You sat with the rest of the hotel group, half-listening as Lucifer and Alastor bickered back and forth in song, their battle of wits crescendoing in dramatic flair. It was an odd sort of game, something between posturing and genuine irritation, and though you were used to Alastor’s theatrics, the sudden appearance of Lucifer had only seemed to make him more insufferable.

And that's when she arrived.

Mimzy. A name whispered from the past, a figure Alastor knew from his time alive. She waltzed through the doors of the hotel like she owned the place, all charm and nostalgia, completely interrupting Alastor and Lucifer—the goddamned Radio Demon and the very King of Hell. Everyone else seemed bewildered by her unexpected entrance, save for you and Husk. Because unlike the others, you both recognized her. Mimzy wasn’t just another demon Alastor knew: she was perhaps the only one still lingering from his life before Hell. And that was a life he never spoke about to you.

You weren’t jealous. Of course not. That would be ridiculous. Petty, even!

Which is why you smiled and offered her a drink when she settled in like she belonged there. Even when Alastor seemed more preoccupied with his initial task of challenging Lucifer, you continued to make polite conversation, keeping Mimzy company like a good host as Alastor waltzed off with Charlie and Vaggie to show Lucifer around the hotel. You even decided not to question why exactly she was there, because you definitely weren’t someone who was even remotely bothered by the way she looked at your lover—your Alastor—like she still knew him better than anyone else in the room. You must simply be paranoid!

Thankfully, Angel Dust and Husk kept you entertained by the bar with their usual banter, sparing you from being the sole communicator with Mimzy. You were actually starting to have a decent conversation with her, listening to her talk about how she used to perform at the jazz club Alastor commonly frequented, finally excited to get a glimpse into Alastor’s life before his fall to damnation. But Mimzy had a way of causing commotion, and she knew it. She, like Al, seemed to share the same sin of pride, which resulted in her slipping a sharp, snide little comment hidden beneath her layers of old-timey charm.

"Oh, sweetheart, I do admire ya dedication. Must be so tiring, trying to keep a man like Alastor entertained. I mean, he does get bored so easily, doesn’t he? I’m even surprised he kept me along for this long!"

The words struck deeper than you wanted to admit. Her comment made Angel Dust’s amused grin falter, his mismatched eyes widening in offense for you. Even Husk paused, ears flicking at the sheer audacity.

But you? You simply smiled.

Because you weren’t petty. You were raised better than to stoop down to her level, knowing just how much she wanted to see the worst in you come out. So all you did was smile, your hand tightening on your glass imperceptibly.

“I like to think I do alright,” you replied, voice saccharine. And before she could get in another jab, you excused yourself, turning on your heel before anyone could see the way your jaw clenched just a little too tight.

You needed to find Alastor.

It took some searching, but you found him shadowing Charlie, Vaggie, and Lucifer as they walked the halls, his posture perfectly poised, his expression fixed in a grin that was just a little too flawless. Lucifer’s presence was, as expected, a threat to the power balance in the hotel, and Alastor was treating it as such.

Your feet picked up the pace, jogging up to him as you called his name. He didn’t turn.

You tried again, and this time, his head snapped toward you, his entire neck cracking with the speed of it. His smile was still there, but his eyes… they were strained.

“Dearest,” he greeted, the word drawn out with thin patience as he twisted his body to match his inhumanely turned neck. “I’m a little busy at the moment.”

You purse your lips sourly, crossing your arms as you replied. “Mimzy said something to me. Something rude. I—”

“Oh, she does that all the time,” Alastor interrupted, waving a dismissive hand. “Don’t take it so personally, cher.”

Your brows furrowed, impatience rising. “Al, she—”

“Really, must we do this now?” His voice, usually so smooth and lilting, held the barest edge of frustration. His focus was drifting back to Lucifer, and that—that stung more than it should have.

“Alastor,” you pressed, but he cut you off again, his expression flickering with exasperation.

“I’m trying to ensure Lucifer Morningstar doesn’t throw this place into absolute chaos,” he said, his usual theatrics dampened by irritation. “Forgive me if I don’t have time to entertain every little grievance.”

That was the breaking point.

Your hands curled into fists at your sides. You weren’t asking him to start a war over this, you just wanted him to listen. But apparently, his pride, his status, his stupid fixation on proving himself compared to Lucifer—that mattered more.

“Fine,” you bit out, voice tight. “Go ahead. Play your little game. I’ll be downstairs.”

And with that, you resisted the urge to bark anything else at him and left, ignoring the way his shadow frowned as you stormed away.

By the time you reached the lobby again, your anger was simmering beneath the surface, hot and unresolved. Angel Dust raised a brow as you rejoined them, Husk grunted in acknowledgment, and Mimzy?

She just smirked.

And that—oh, that just made your blood boil all the more. You bit your cheek harshly, letting the pain distract you from the way you wanted to absolutely tear your claws into her snobby little head. 

Just as you were about to say something, the hotel trembled violently, sending dust raining from the ceiling. Your eyes shot open from the interruption, the four of you jolting from the bar in surprise. Angel Dust barely had time to curse before another explosion rocked the walls, and even Sir Pentious and Niffty had rushed out into the lobby to see what was happening. Husk’s ears flicked in irritation, eyes narrowing as he downed the rest of his whiskey in a single gulp.

“What the hell is goin’ on?” Husk grumbled, pushing himself off the counter.

Niffty skittered toward the window, peeking outside. Her single eye widened, smile terrifyingly wide: "Oh, wow! Lots of company! And they don’t look very friendly!"

You pushed yourself up from the bar stool, already seething from your argument with Alastor, only for your frustration to triple when you caught sight of what was happening outside through the windows. Your hotel was under attack.

Explosions continued to pelt the exterior, fire and debris scattering across the pavement. Figures lurked in the smoke, their silhouettes illuminated by the flickering flames. Loan sharks. Armed. Dangerous. And heading straight for the entrance.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you hissed, storming toward the door, ignoring Angel Dust’s warning call.

The moment you stepped outside, the gunfire ceased momentarily as the gangsters caught sight of you. Their expressions twisted into rage, and before you could say a word, one of them barked, “That must be her—Mimzy! Get her!”

You barely had time to register what they meant before pain exploded through your side. A gunshot rang in your ears, the impact knocking you backward as agony tore through you. You hit the pavement, breath wheezing from your lungs as Angel Dust and Husk shouted your name.

“Oh, hell no!” Angel snarled, grabbing you before they could get another shot off. Husk swore under his breath, hauling you back into the hotel as more bullets followed, splintering the doorframe. “What the ever-loving fuck did you do, Mimzy?!”

Inside, you gasped, hand pressing against the wound in your side as black blood seeped through your fingers. The injury wasn’t too damaging and you hardly worried since it wasn’t an angelic bullet, but your vision still swam from the sudden sting. Angel crouched beside you, protective, his face set in grim determination (and annoyance of this entire situation) as Niffty rushed off to grab medical supplies. You were too busy focusing on the teeth-clenching pain to hear Husk arguing with Mimzy over why these loan sharks had said her name, hearing her say she apparently owes them fifty grand. Before you could even respond to her words, Sir Pentious’ shouted at everyone as he dodged a fireball. “Take cover!”

You watched as the hotel descended into chaos. Angel lunged forward, yanking Niffty out of the way before another fireball could flatten her. Husk abandoned Mimzy without a second thought, his wings fluttering as he rushed to your side. He grabbed you gently, hauling you against the bar wall, out of the direct line of fire. 

Angel was back in an instant, Niffty dangling from one of his arms. The moment he drops her onto the floor, she tears through the hotel's makeshift first aid kit, muttering curses about bloodstains on her carpets.

(A passing reminder to thank Charlie for creating a first aid kit for the hotel entered your mind, the temporary thought stored in the back of your adrenaline-filled brain as you realized how genius the idea was even if you all had originally found the concept laughable.

Who knew you would need one when fighting and pain was practically a daily guarantee in Hell?)

Charlie, Lucifer, Vaggie, and Alastor descend from the staircase a minute later, their eyes scanning the chaos. But it was Alastor who froze, his entire frame going rigid as his eyes landed on you. You two locked eyes for a moment, his foot hovering mid step as he took in your pained expression.

The ever-present smile on his face faltered, just for a second.

Then his world snapped.

Alastor’s gaze darkened, his static flickering erratically as he shadowed towards you in the blink of an eye. His movements were slow, almost mechanical, as he crouched before you, reaching out to gently touch the black blood on your fingers. When he pulled back, his hand trembled, shadows pooling below his kneeling body exponentially.

You had never seen him look like this before.

Vaggie took a step forward from behind the broken front doors, holding her spear in her hands with a pissed off expression. “All of you, get a safe distance. I’ll take care of this.”

Alastor didn’t even glance at her. His voice came out in a low, sickeningly sweet purr. "No, my dear, leave it to me. It’s time I remind everyone why I am here."

Mimzy, pops up from behind the bar counter, perked up. “Oh, finally! Took ya long enough!”

Alastor didn’t react. His shadow twisted violently beneath him, tendrils stretching, shifting, writhing as an eerie green glow seeped through the cracks of the floorboards.

Outside, the gangsters were reloading their catapult and guns, laughing amongst themselves—until the air grew thick with static. A heavy, suffocating weight pressed down on the street, the distant flickering of the hotel’s neon sign the only warning before a massive tendril shot out, smashing the catapult to pieces.

The loan sharks barely had time to scream before more tendrils erupted from the ground, slicing through them like they were nothing but paper dolls.

Alastor’s laughter rang through the chaos, distorted and wrong. His body grew taller, limbs elongating unnaturally as his smile stretched too wide, his antlers curling into jagged points. His form twisted, pulsing with raw, unfiltered eldritch power as his shadow spread across the pavement. You heard Husk curse next to you in horror, your eyes glancing to the terrified bartender as he crouched beside you.

“A reminder to all,” Alastor’s voice boomed, shaking the very ground beneath them, “not to mess with the Radio Demon!”

The remaining demons screamed, scrambling to retreat, their weapons useless against something so vastly beyond them. Alastor stepped forward out of the archway of the once undamaged doors, unforgiving and unrelenting as he grew in size with every step. His eyes turn into two red radio dials floating in dark pools of shadow, his radio staff puny compared to his now gigantic form.

“I will devour each and every one of you,” he broadcasted from his unmoving smile, voice rich with unhinged delight.

You winced as you watched your lover start to swallow the mafia members whole, unleashing his stress from today as distant cries of terror fill the hotel. Unfortunately, the broken windows of the lobby did no justice in shielding any of your eyes from the chaos outside, resulting in you having to grossly look away at the gore happening in front of you.

Angel Dust watches beside you, shaking his head as he’s mesmerized by the scene. “I can’t believe you date this guy.”

Your chest huffs in an attempt to laugh, groaning softly as you hear Charlie and Lucifer arguing in the background. The hotel was filled with the sound of family drama and cannibalism, yet somehow that seemed to be even better than the sound of Mimzy’s grating voice cheering Alastor on.

After a mere few seconds, the battlefield was silent save for the faint crackling of embers and the distant, gurgling groans of the last unlucky gangsters who had met their demise at The Radio Demon’s hands. Alastor, now shrinking back into his usual form, let out a sigh of satisfaction, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeves.

“Oh, I missed getting to let off steam!” he chirped, his voice dripping with amusement.

The tension in the air hadn’t yet settled when Mimzy emerged from the hotel, peeking out to ensure the coast was clear before prancing toward Alastor with a delighted grin. “Oh, Alastor! What a fantastic show! Bravo! As always. Thanks for helpin’ lil’ old me out of a tough spot, you're always such a pal!”

Before Alastor could respond, a loud crack split the air above you.

Your head snapped up just in time to see a massive chunk of debris from the ruined floor above give way, plummeting toward you and Angel Dust.

“Move!” Angel yelped, grabbing you as the two of you dove aside. The wreckage slammed into the ground where you had been leaning on the wall just seconds before, sending a gust of dust and gravel into the air.

Your pulse pounded in your ears, adrenaline and pain mingling in your veins as you looked up, meeting Alastor’s gaze. His red eyes flickered between you and Mimzy, and for the first time since the carnage began, his smile began to wane as the static in the air crackled with unease.

You weren’t just glaring—you were seething. 

It was a rare sight to see you so angry, your emotions normally hidden well behind your mask of calm, poised indifference. Typically, Alastor would be reveling at the fire blazing within your eyes, delighted to see his darling so full of wrath it made anyone in your line of sight shake in terror. Yet in this instance, as Alastor stared a moment longer, he realized he was technically in your line of sight, along with the blonde flapper next to him who caused this whole mess.

Alastor watched as you narrowed your eyes even more at him, taking a mental picture of your fury to cherish forever. Then, with a slow turn of his head, he set his gaze upon Mimzy, his usually cheerful aura twisting into something cold. He realized Mimzy had been speaking to him, something along the lines of apologizing for the mess—really, he could care less what Mimzy was saying given the full extent of things.

“I think you should go, Mimzy.” His flat voice was devoid of amusement.

Mimzy scoffed, twirling a stray curl of hair between her fingers. “Oh pff, Alastor, you're such a kidder, you! Haha, you are so funny—”

“I mean it.” His voice sharpened, cutting through the tension like a knife. “You deliberately brought danger to this place just to have me clean up your mess. I can’t have that here.”

Mimzy’s smug expression faltered, but she quickly recovered, waving a dismissive hand. “But you love takin’ care of me! What? You don’t actually give a shit about this tacky little place, do ya? Come on. I know you.”

She took a step forward, jabbing a sharp-nailed finger into his chest with every word.

“You heartless son—” poke.

“—of a—” poke.

“—bitch!” poke.

Before she could finish, Alastor caught her wrist in midair, his grip like iron. His smile had all but disappeared.

“I do care about this place.” He let her wrist go, stepping past her to glance where you sat on the ground in the hotel, still nursing your injury. His fingers twitched, desperate to shadow next to you, but he simply clenched his twitching hand into a fist. “And more than that, I care about her.”

Mimzy’s face twisted in disbelief. “What?”

Alastor’s eyes sideglanced at Mimzy, his voice laced with something genuine. “I am madly devoted to her. And I refuse to let anyone—anyone—disrespect her. Especially under my roof.” His eyes flickered with finality as he fully turned back to Mimzy. “So unless you plan on giving a damn well and sincere apology to her, you are no longer welcome here.”

Mimzy stood there, mouth agape, before scoffing dramatically and throwing her arms up. “Well, fine! Who needs ya?! Have fun with ya little sweetheart and ya little hotel. See if I care!”

With one last huff, she stomped off, disappearing into the distance.

The moment she was gone, Alastor turned back to the hotel, his sharp gaze softening with concern as his eyes landed on you. Everyone in the lobby had seen this little fiasco unravel, Husk, Sir Pentious, and Angel all sharing snacks as they hummed in appreciation at the drama. You simply sat on the ground a few feet away as he appeared in front of you, his shadow curling around your ankle as it stared up in worry from the floor. Alastor crouched down, his fingers ghosting over your wound, his usual devil-may-care attitude completely absent.

“You should have listened to me,” you muttered, still glaring, though your voice had lost some of its edge.

Alastor winced, his breath hitching at the exhaustion laced in your voice. His fingers twitched against yours, his usual bravado faltering for just a moment. He averted his gaze, as if the sight of your pain was too much even for him, before forcing himself to meet your eyes again.

"Yes… I see that now." His hand finally rested over yours, pressing lightly against the wound as if to assure himself that you were still there. “I was wrong. I should have listened to you from the start. I was too… preoccupied.”

You raised a skeptical brow. “Too prideful.”

He let out a soft, breathy chuckle. “That, too.”

A moment of silence stretched between you before Alastor finally sighed, something deeply regretful in his expression. “I’m… truly, truly sorry, mon cœur. I should have protected you. I will make this up to you.” His voice lowered, his fingers gently lacing with yours. “Just… tell me how. Anything you ask for is yours, even though it was already yours before this whole incident occured today.”

You sighed, the tension in your body slowly easing, though not entirely. A part of you still wanted to stay angry, to let him sweat a little longer, but exhaustion tugged at your limbs. The ache in your side throbbed as if reminding you that you had bigger things to worry about. Still, you weren’t ready to let him off the hook so easily, exhaling deeply once more as you spoke. “You owe me, Al.”

His grin returned, softer this time—devoid of its usual mischief, holding only sincerity. “Then I shall spend every waking moment treating you the way you deserve. Like royalty, my love.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the tiny smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Damn right you will.”

Alastor chuckled, finally helping you to your feet as you rejoined the group. His grip was firm, steadying you a little too carefully, his fingers lingering at your waist even after you were standing upright. His usual boundless energy seemed restrained, his eyes flickering over your wounds before he forced his smile to remain in place. You could tell—he was still shaken, even if he’d never admit it.

You watched as Niffty scurried around the hotel, eager to clean up the damage. It seemed like Charlie and Lucifer had made up, your anger at today’s events lessening ever so slightly as you watched the two. Even Husk, Angel Dust, and Sir Pentious had seemed to be helping clean up, even if Vaggie was yelling at them to do it.

As Alastor wrapped a careful arm around you, leading you toward a more comfortable place to rest on one of the less damaged couches, he leaned down, whispering just for you to hear.

“I do love you, you know.”

Your heart fluttered, but you played it cool, nudging him in the ribs. “You better.”

His smile widened, his head lowering to give you a hidden kiss behind your ear as he paused for a moment. “I’m sorry you got hurt… because of me.”

You hum slightly at his display of vulnerability, your own mouth morphing into a soft smile. “You’re an idiot, but,” You pause, closing the distance between you as you rub his head with yours, “I love you as well.”

And despite the pain, despite the chaos, despite everything—you knew he would spend the rest of his afterlife making sure he never let his pride come before you again.

[petr1kov]

the thing about makeup is that i do think it is a cool skill to have and that it can be a form of self-expression, i just also know that this is not the kind of makeup that women are talked into doing in their everyday lives. there's just a big difference between 'obvious makeup' and 'stealth makeup' to me: when someone puts on a sparkly golden eyeshadow or a black lipstick, it's something that draws attention to itself -- it's a fashion statement, not unlike wearing a necklace or an earring, something that's part of a look. but stealth makeup, 'everyday makeup', is all about not drawing attention to itself: it's about masking any perceived flaws you may have.

sure, some of it is often still tastefully noticeable (mostly lipstick and maybe some eyeliner/eyelash extensions), but a lot of it aims to look as natural as possible while subtly changing your features into something more 'acceptable'. there's a lot of stories about women not putting on makeup for a day and having other people say they look ill or 'strange', for instance, and it's because these people did not really notice that everyday makeup in the first place, at least not to the extent they thought they did. so, it usually involves a lot of concealer and contouring, and all of it with the intention of changing the shape of your face in a way which, quite frankly, is rarely ever 'fun'. i doubt anyone feels artistically fulfilled by slimming down their nose every day, for instance. unlike someone who wears a cool lipstick or is trying to go for a particular look as part of a costume, i doubt they'd do it just for the sake of it if they didn't feel like they had to.

to put it plainly, i think a lot of women don't really wear makeup to look prettier or cooler, necessarily, but to disguise their perceived ugliness. instead of an ornament, it's a correction. in that way, makeup becomes a chore and an obligation, and is bound to affect the self-image of those who wear it that way -- and which traits so casually get to be considered desirable and which ones constantly are encouraged to be hidden and altered are definitely not something that just comes out of nowhere, just a harmless little personal preference like some people like to act, as if beauty standards carry no racial or misogynistic baggage and influence. more than anything else, this purposefully obtuse act is what's truly insufferable to me.

[princessaffirms]

HOW REAL IS reality? is reality ALWAYS SUBJECTIVE? 🫧✨

the NEUROSCIENCE of reality shifting/law of assumption

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in reality shifting/law of assumption, we often say that the 3D CIRCUMSTANCES don’t matter because reality is subjective and everyone’s reality is their own individual, unique experience of reality. but is there any scientific truth to that?

this post discusses scientific evidence that reality is EXPERIENCED, not just observed.

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🌸✨ objectivity in science vs lived reality

in research, objectivity often means getting MULTIPLE OBSERVERS to agree (ex. in inter-rater reliability). if two people observe the same behavior in an experiment and record it similarly, it’s seen as “objective.”

but that doesn’t necessarily mean we’re accessing a pure, external truth.

we’re accessing SHARED SUBJECTIVITY: perspectives that just happen to align (o’connell, 2012).

even in science, reality is INTERPRETED, never just received.

　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖

🌸✨ the brain is WIRED for SUBJECTIVE REALITY

neuroscientist riccardo fesce (2020) argues that subjectivity isn’t ADDED later by consciousness — it’s BUILT into the way your brain processes information from the START.

emotional and motivational relevance is part of how sensory data is processed

the hippocampus contextualizes this info: where you were, how it felt, what it meant

that processed, personal experience becomes your reality

^ you can literally see this in fesce’s diagram, where DATA BECOMES personal experience through neural pathways connecting the hippocampus, limbic system, and associative cortices!

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🌸✨ subjectivity is not a flaw. it’s the FRAMEWORK!

this isn’t just one researcher’s theory. other experts agree:

• feinberg (1997) showed that internal (subjective) and external (objective) perspectives of consciousness are mutually IRREDUCIBLE.

BASICALLY: you can’t FULLY explain the inner experience just by describing brain activity.

• bajic et al. (2021) revealed how alzheimer’s patients shift into more INTERNALLY constructed realities.

BASICALLY: this means that reality is ALWAYS, in part, a mental construction, and it changes as brain states change.

take this quote for instance:

“Even though we cannot perceive reality as an objective truth, as we always make our personal version of reality … this apparent objectivity cannot be characterized as dealing with things-out-there, as independent of mental contents-in-here” (Bajic et al., 2021).”

　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖

🌸✨ so WHAT does this MEAN for shifting + law of assumption?

it means you’re not imagining things when you say “i create my reality.”

you LITERALLY do.

you’re not being delusional, you’re being deliberate.

science BACKS UP what your soul already KNOWS:

your consciousness filters, colors, and chooses what BECOMES real.

you shift realities not by forcing the world to change, but by CHANGING how YOU contextualize, interpret, and assign meaning to it.

and that process happens neurologically and energetically (your thoughts + emotions literally carry energy!)

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🌸✨ FINAL THOUGHTS

science doesn’t cancel your power. it CONFIRMS your role as the one who chooses the lens through which YOU view your reality. neuroscience shows that your brain CONSTRUCTS your perception of reality, not reality itself. it filters what you experience based on your beliefs, focus, and assumptions.

but it’s your consciousness, your SOUL, that chooses the reality in the first place. the brain just processes the version of reality you’ve aligned yourself with. it’s not the creator, just the interpreter.

you are the operant power. you choose the lens, the identity, the timeline. your brain and body simply respond to what your awareness has already declared as TRUTH.

you are the observer, the chooser, AND the experiencer.

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🫧✨ SOURCES

• Bajic, V., Jukic, M. M., & Bajic, M. B. (2021). Alzheimer’s and consciousness: How much subjectivity is objective? Neuroscience Insights, 16, 26331055211034912. https://doi.org/10.1177/26331055211034912

• Feinberg, T. E. (1997). The irreducible perspectives of consciousness. Seminars in Neurology, 17(2), 129–137. https://doi.org/10.1055/s-2008-1040917

• Fesce, R. (2020). Subjectivity as an emergent property of information processing by neuronal networks. Frontiers in Neuroscience, 14, 579000. https://doi.org/10.3389/fnins.2020.579000

• O’Connell, M. (2012). Subjective reality, objective reality, modes of relatedness, and therapeutic action. Journal of Analytic Psychology, 45(3), 391–410. https://doi.org/10.1002/j.2167-4086.2000.tb00581.x

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✨ NOTE: i recognize that not everyone reading these posts may come from a scientific background, or even desire to dive into the full technical details of the neuroscience mechanisms and topics discussed. for that reason, the content of these posts are intentionally simplified to make the core ideas more accessible, while still staying true to the scientific literature referenced.

if you’re interested in a deeper dive, i HIGHLY recommend giving the original papers a read! i always cite them at the end of each post 🫶 additionally, while i integrate scientific findings into these posts, my overall discussion remains interpretive and spiritually oriented, reflecting the bridge between neuroscience research and manifestation philosophy, as well as expressing the correlations i observed between the two.

i write about the relationship between science and manifestation with the intention of providing clarity and reassurance regarding these topics, but please remember that you do not necessarily NEED physical proof in the traditional scientific sense (experiment, statistical analysis, etc.) in order to manifest. you ARE the proof! reality is subjective, and your experience of reality is purely your own.✨

furthermore, there are many inherent limitations to science itself as a means of measurement and explanation. it cannot measure the spiritual, and it certainly cannot measure every individual’s subjective reality experience. given this, i strongly (but lovingly!) urge you to refrain from seeking a post about conventional evidence (in the scientific sense) of shifting/manifestation, because you simply won’t find it. and that’s okay! science and spirituality go hand in hand. they are two sides of the same coin that is reality.

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i hope this post brought you some insight, reassurance and clarification! 🥹✨

sending so much love and light <3

[bloomzone]

2025 : #26 the art of being elegant because it's a beauty that never fades

[ maybe the longest blog I ever made but it worth reading ]

☆ ★ The introduction : why this matters more than anything

You know that feeling when someone walks into a room and everyone just naturally gravitates toward them? They're not necessarily the most conventionally beautiful person there, they're not the loudest, they're not trying the hardest ect ect.. but there's something absolutely magnetic about their presence. People describe them as "She's just so elegant and graceful" or "there's something special about her." That's what we're after here , this is about developing a presence so genuinely confident and warm that even when people disagree with you, criticize you, or try to bring you down, they still can't help but respect u . ur elegance becomes like armor it protects you from negativity while drawing in all the right energy and people ! This kind of elegance is completely accessible to everyooooone it doesn't matter what you look like, how much money you have, where you come from or what you're wearing.... It's about cultivating something from within that radiates outward and touches everyone around you. It's the ultimate glow-up because it's permanent and it grows stronger with time. And it can be the thing that can CHANGE UR LIFE AND ENERGY! ✒️

Part 1: Understanding what elegance actually is (and what It's not)

Before we dive into the how, we need to get crystal CLEAR on what we're actually talking about because there's so much confusion around this word. Elegance has been twisted and misunderstood, especially in our current culture where everything is about being the most dramatic, or the most "extra." y'know ?

What elegance is not :

Elegance is absolutely NOT about being a pick-me girl. If you're putting down other women to make yourself seem more sophisticated or special, that's the complete opposite of elegant. True elegance lifts others up It's not about competing with other women or acting like you're "not like other girls." (Bruuuuuh ) that's insecurity dressed up as superiority, and it's transparent as hell. Elegance is also not about being fake humble or constantly fishing for compliments. You know those people who are always saying "I look terrible today" or "I'm so stupid" just to get people to disagree with them? That's exhausting and manipulative, not elegant girlie. Real elegance means being comfortable with yourself your strengths AND your flaws without needing constant validation from others. It's not about being a doormat either cuz some people think being elegant means never disagreeing with anyone or always being "nice" to the point of having no personality . That's not elegance, that's people-pleasing, and it's actually really unattractive because it's not authentic hear me out . Elegant women have opinions, boundaries, and backbone. The difference is in HOW they express these things and ofc it's definitely not about being perfect or never making mistakes. Perfect people are boring and unrelateable. Elegant people are human they mess up, they have bad days, they make wrong choices sometimes. The elegance comes in how they handle these imperfections with grace and learn from them without drama , please it's not about putting on airs or acting superior to others. If you're changing your voice to sound more "refined" or name-dropping to seem impressive, you're missing the point entirely. True elegance is unpretentious it's about being genuinely yourself, just the best, most polished version of yourself.

what true elegance actually is:

Real elegance is quiet confidence. It's that deep inner knowing of your own worth that doesn't need to announce itself or prove anything to anyone. When you're truly elegant, you're not looking around the room wondering what people think of u , you're genuinely focused on connecting with others and making them feel comfortable and valued.Elegance is grace under pressure. It's staying calm when everyone else is losing their minds, speaking softly when others are yelling, and maintaining your composure even when you're being attacked or criticized. This doesn't mean being emotionless or robotic it means having mastery over your reactions and choosing your responses thoughtfully.Elegance It's is consistency , u're the same person whether you're talking to a CEO or the janitor whether you're having a good day or a terrible one, whether you're with your closest friends or meeting someone new. This consistency comes from having a strong sense of self and clear values that guide your behavior in all situations.

☆ ★ Part 2: building ur inner foundation | the source

u cannot fake elegance. u can learn the mannerisms, copy the style, memorize the etiquette rules, but if you don't have the inner foundation, it will always feel forced and people will sense it. Real elegance starts from the inside and radiates outward.

Developing unshakeable self-worth:

The foundation of elegance is knowing ur worth without needing external validation. This is probably the hardest part because we live in a world that's constantly telling us we're not enough not pretty enough, not smart enough, not successful enough, not anything enough. But elegant women have done the inner work to separate their self-worth from other people's opinions.

☆ This starts with really understanding your own values and living by them consistently. What matters to you? What kind of person do you want to be? What are you willing to stand for, even when it's unpopular? When you have clear answers to these questions and you live by them, you develop an inner compass that guides you through any situation.

☆ You also need to make peace with your flaws and imperfections. This doesn't mean settling or not trying to improve , it means accepting that you're human and that your worth isn't dependent on being perfect. When you can acknowledge your mistakes without shame, laugh at yourself when you do something silly, and accept criticism without getting defensive, you're operating from a place of security rather than insecurity.

☆ Practice self-compassion the same way you would show compassion to a good friend. When you mess up, don't beat yourself up for days. Learn from it and move on giiiirl . When you're having a bad day, don't pretend everything is fine, but don't make it everyone else's problem either. Treat yourself with the same kindness you'd show someone you care about.

Emotional maturity and regulation:

Elegance requires emotional intelligence, the ability to understand and manage your own emotions while being attuned to others' feelings. This is what allows you to stay graceful under pressure and respond rather than react to difficult situations.

☆ Start paying attention to your emotional triggers. What makes you defensive? What makes you angry? What makes you insecure? Once you identify these patterns, you can start to catch yourself before you react poorly. Take a breath nd choose ur response instead of being controlled by your immediate emotional reaction.

☆ Learn to sit with uncomfortable emotions instead of immediately acting on them. If someone says something that hurts your feelings, you don't have to respond right away. You can feel the hurt, process it, and then decide how you want to address it. This space between stimulus and response is where elegance lives.

☆ Develop empathy for others, even when they're being difficult. Most people who are rude or aggressive are dealing with their own pain or insecurity. This doesn't mean you have to tolerate mistreatment, but understanding this helps you not take things personally and respond with grace instead of matching their energy.

Continuous growth and learning:

Elegant women are always growing and learning. They're curious about the world, interested in different perspectives, and committed to becoming better versions of themselves. This intellectual curiosity and growth mindset is incredibly attractive and keeps you interesting and engaged with life.

☆ Read books, not just for entertainment but for knowledge and perspective. Learn about different cultures, historical periods, scientific discoveries, philosophical ideas. You don't need to become an expert in everything but having a broad base of knowledge makes you a more interesting conversationalist and gives you context for understanding the world.

☆ Develop deep expertise in at least one area that you're passionate about. Whether it's art, cooking, music, business, social causes, or anything else, having something you're genuinely passionate about and knowledgeable about makes you more interesting and gives you confidence in at least one area of your life.

☆ Be open to feedback and willing to change your mind when presented with new information. Elegant people aren't so attached to being right that they can't admit when they're wrong. They see learning and growth as more important than protecting their ego.

Part 3: ur physical presence | the foundation of first impressions

People form judgments about you within seconds of seeing you, before you even open your mouth. it's reality ikr even that we say it's unfair. ur physical presence communicates volumes about your confidence, your self-respect, and your attention to detail. The good news is that you have complete control over this aspect of elegance.

Mastering ur posture:

Good posture is literally the backbone of elegance, and it's something you can start improving immediately. Poor posture doesn't just make you look less confident it actually makes you FEEL less confident. There's real science behind the fact that how you hold your body affects your mental state.

Here's how to find your proper posture:

ㅤ۪ㅤ۫ ꪆ୧ㅤFirst of all I recommend yuuka sagawa on ytb she has the best back / posture workout ! 🪽

☆ Stand against a wall with your back flat against it. Your head, shoulders, and butt should all touch the wall. Your feet should be about six inches away from the wall. This is what proper alignment feels like. Your ears should be directly over your shoulders, your shoulders over your hips, your hips over your knees, and your knees over your ankles.

☆ Now, imagine a string attached to the crown of your head, gently pulling you upward. Your shoulders should be back but relaxed - not tense and pulled up toward your ears. Your chest should be open and lifted slightly. Your core should be gently engaged to support your spine. This might feel weird at first if you're used to slouching, but it will become natural with practice.

☆ When you walk, lead with your chest, not your head. Many people walk with their head jutting forward, especially if they're looking at their phone a lot. This makes you look like you're constantly in a hurry or anxious. Instead, keep your head balanced over your shoulders and let your chest lead the way forward.

☆ Practice this everywhere : walking to class, sitting at your desk, standing in line. Set reminders on your phone if you need to. After a few weeks of conscious practice, good posture will become automatic n you'll notice how differently people respond to you.

Your facial expressions and smile:

Your face is the first thing people notice about you, and your facial expressions communicate so much about your inner state. You don't need to have a perfect smile or flawless features to have an elegant presence you just need to be mindful of what your face is communicating.

☆ First let's talk about resting face. We've all heard of "resting bitch face" but the truth is most people's neutral expression looks somewhat unfriendly or unapproachable. This isn't your fault it's just how faces work. But you can make small adjustments that make a huge difference in how approachable you seem.

☆ Keep your facial muscles relaxed, not tense. A lot of people hold tension in their jaw, around their eyes, or in their forehead without realizing it. Do a quick mental check throughout the day are you clenching your jaw? Furrowing your brow? Squinting? Consciously relax these muscles.

☆ Let your eyes be soft and alert like you're genuinely interested in what's happening around you. Hard squinty eyes make you look angry or judgmental, even if you're not. Practice "soft eyes" in the mirror it's a subtle difference, but it makes you look much more approachable and kind.

☆ Now, about smiling this is where a lot of people go wrong. A fake smile is worse than no smile at all because people can tell the difference, even if they can't articulate why. A real smile engages your whole face, not just your mouth. Your eyes crinkle slightly, your cheeks lift, and there's a warmth that's impossible to fake.

☆ Practice your genuine smile in the mirror. Think about something that makes you truly happy a person you love, a funny memory, a goal you're excited about. Watch how your whole face changes. This is the smile you want to access when you're meeting new people or in social situations.

☆ Don't feel like you need to smile constantly that's exhausting and comes across as insincere. But when you do smile make it count. A genuine smile at the right moment can completely change the energy of an interaction.

How u move through space:

The way you move communicates confidence, grace and seeeeelf-awareness. Elegant people move with purpose but not panic, with awareness but not self-consciousness.

☆ Don't rush everywhere like you're constantly late or anxious. Even when you are running late, try to maintain a sense of calm urgency rather than frantic energy. People can feel your energy before you even speak, and frantic energy is contagious and unpleasant.

☆ Move with intention. This means being aware of your body and how you're occupying space. When you sit down, do it gracefully don't just collapse into the chair. When you stand up do it smoothly. When you walk be aware of your gait and rhythm.

☆ Pay attention to your gestures when you speak. Elegant people use their hands to emphasize points, but their gestures are controlled and purposeful, not wild and distracting. Keep your gestures within the frame of your body don't wave your arms around too much.

☆ Be aware of your personal space and others Don't stand too close to people (unless you're in a loud environment where you need to), but don't stand so far away that you seem distant or uncomfortable. Find that sweet spot where people feel comfortable and engaged.

ur voice and how u speak:

Your voice is an incredibly powerful tool that most people completely underutilize. The way you speak communicates confidence, intelligence, and thoughtfulness or the opposite.

☆ Slow down your speech. Most people talk too fast, especially when they're nervous or excited. Speaking too quickly makes you seem anxious and makes it harder for people to understand and connect with what you're saying. Practice speaking at about 75% of your normal speed it will feel slow to you, but it will sound perfect to others.

☆ Use pauses effectively don't be afraid of silence in conversation. Pausing before you answer a question makes you seem thoughtful and considered. Pausing after you make an important point gives it weight and allows it to sink in.

☆ Work on your articulation : u don't need to sound like a news anchor, but mumbling or slurring your words makes you seem less intelligent and less confident than you are. Practice speaking clearly especially with the endings of words.

Part 4: the art of elegant communication

Communication is where elegance really shines. Anyone can learn to stand up straight or speak clearly, but elegant communication comes from a deeper place of confidence, empathy, and social intelligence. This is what separates truly elegant people from those who are just going through the motions.

The Power of listening:

become an exceptional listener !!?!!!! . Most people are terrible listeners because they're too busy thinking about what they want to say next. But when you truly listen to someone not just hearing their words, but understanding their meaning and emotions u give them a gift that's increasingly rare.

☆ When someone is speaking to you, give them your full attention. Put your phone away, turn your body toward them, make appropriate eye contact, and focus completely on what they're saying. Don't interrupt, don't finish their sentences, and don't start formulating your response while they're still talking.

☆ Ask follow-up questions that show you were paying attention. If someone tells you about a job interview they had for ex , emember to ask about it the next time you see them. If they mention a hobby or interest, ask them what they love about it. These small acts of attention make people feel valued and important.

☆ Learn to read between the lines. Often, what people don't say is just as important as what they do say. Pay attention to body language, tone of voice, and emotional undertones. Someone might say they're "fine" but their body language suggests otherwise. Elegant people are attuned to these subtleties and respond appropriately.

Speaking with purpose and grace:

When you do speak, make it count. Elegant people don't talk just to fill silence or to hear themselves speak. They speak with intention and purpose.

☆ Think before you speak read it again . especially about important or sensitive topics. It's okay to pause and collect your thoughts before responding to a question or comment. This makes you seem thoughtful and considered, not slow or uncertain.

☆ Choose your words carefully. You don't need to use fancy vocabulary but be precise in your language. Say what you mean and mean what you say.

☆ When you need to disagree with someone, do it gracefully. Instead of saying "You're wrong" or "That's stupid," try something like "I see it differently" or "My experience has been different." You're not backing down from your position, but you're not attacking the other person either.

☆ Learn to give compliments that are genuine and specific. Instead of just saying "You look nice," try something like "That color really brings out your eyes" or "You always know how to put together the perfect outfit." Specific compliments show that you're really paying attention and they mean more to the recipient. And we are girrrls cmooooon

Handling difficult conversations:

This is where true elegance really shows itself how you handle conflict, criticism, and difficult situations. Anyone can be graceful when everything is going well, but elegant people maintain their composure even under pressure.

☆ When someone is being rude or aggressive toward you, your first instinct might be to match their energy or get defensive. But elegance means staying calm and responding from a place of strength, not reaction. Take a deep breath, pause, and then respond in a way that reflects your values, not their behavior.

☆ You can set boundaries without being mean about it. If someone is speaking to you disrespectfully, you can say something like "I'd like to continue this conversation, but I need you to speak to me respectfully" or "I don't appreciate being spoken to that way." You're standing up for yourself without stooping to their level.

☆ When you make a mistake or someone calls you out on something handle it with grace. Don't make excuses, don't blame others, and don't get defensive. Simply say "You're right, I made a mistake" or "I apologize, that wasn't appropriate." Then fix the problem and move on. People respect this kind of accountability.

☆ If someone is trying to provoke you or start drama don't take the baaaaait. You can acknowledge what they're saying without engaging with the drama. Something like "I can see you're upset" or "I understand you feel that way" shows that you heard them without agreeing to participate in the conflict. U will kll them ! That's what I do actually

Part 5: Your daily Habits and lifestyle

Elegance isn't something you turn on and off it's a way of being that's reflected in how you live your daily life. The small, everyday choices and habits you develop are what create that consistent, authentic elegance that people notice and admire.

Creating structure and intention in ur days:

Elegant people don't just drift through life they live with intention and purpose. This doesn't mean every moment has to be scheduled or that you can't be spontaneous that's a bad habit ! but it means having a sense of direction and making conscious choices about how you spend your time and energy.

☆ Start each day with some kind of intention-setting. This could be as simple as taking five minutes when you wake up to think about what you want to accomplish and how you want to show up in the world that day. What kind of energy do you want to bring to your interactions? What priorities do you want to focus on?

☆ Create routines that support the person you want to be. This might include a morning routine that helps you feel centered and prepared for the day, an evening routine that helps you wind down and reflect, or weekly routines that keep your life organized and on track it's up to u !

☆ Be intentional about how you spend your time. This doesn't mean you can't relax or have fun, but it means making conscious choices rather than just defaulting to whatever is easiest or most immediately gratifying. Ask yourself: Is this activity aligned with my values and goals? Is it contributing to the person I want to become?

Taking care of ur environment:

Your environment reflects and affects your inner state. Elegant people tend to keep their spaces clean, organized, and thoughtfully arranged because they understand that their surroundings impact their mood and mindset.

☆ Keep your living space tidy and organized. This doesn't mean it has to be perfect all the time, but it should be a space that feels calm and intentional rather than chaotic and cluttered. Make your bed every morning it's a simple act that sets a tone of care and attention for the day.

☆ Pay attention to details in your environment. Fresh flowers, clean sheets, good lighting, and pleasant scents all contribute to a sense of elegance and care. You don't need to spend a lot of money on this even just keeping your space clean and adding a few thoughtful touches can make a big difference.

☆ Be respectful of shared spaces and other people's belongings. Clean up after yourself, put things back where they belong, and treat other people's homes and belongings with care. This shows consideration and respect for others.

How u treat others in daily interactions:

Elegance shows up most clearly in how you treat people in everyday situations : the server at a restaurant, the cashier at the store, your classmates, your family members. These interactions reveal your true character.

☆ Treat everyone with the same basic level of respect and kindness, regardless of their position or what they can do for you. Say please and thank you consistently. Make eye contact and smile when appropriate. Remember that everyone you interact with is a human being deserving of dignity.

☆ Be punctual and reliable. If you say you're going to be somewhere at a certain time, be there. If you commit to doing something, follow through. If something comes up and you need to change plans, give people as much notice as possible. Ur word should mean something.

☆ Help others when you can without making a big show of it. Hold doors open, offer to carry heavy things, check in on friends who are going through difficult times. Do these things because it's the right thing to do, not because you want recognition or praise.

☆ Be gracious in receiving help and compliments. When someone does something nice for you, thank them genuinely. When someone compliments you, accept it gracefully instead of deflecting or putting yourself down. Like "no I'm not that pretty" wtf c'mon 💀💀

Managing ur energy and emotions:

Elegant people are skilled at managing their own energy and emotions so they can show up as their best selves consistently. This doesn't mean being fake or suppressing your feelings, but it means being responsible for your emotional state and its impact on others.

☆ Pay attention to what affects your mood and energy levels. Are there certain people, activities, or situations that consistently drain you or bring out the worst in you? While you can't always avoid these things, you can prepare for them and develop strategies for managing them.

☆ Develop healthy ways to process difficult emotions. This might include journaling, exercise, meditation, talking to a trusted friend, or creative expression. Find what works for you and use these tools regularly, not just when you're in crisis.

☆ Don't make your bad days everyone else's problem. It's okay to have off days : everyone does. But elegant people don't take their bad moods out on others or expect everyone around them to cater to their emotional state. If you're having a rough day, it's okay to say so, but take responsibility for managing your emotions.

☆ Create boundaries around your time and energy. You don't have to say yes to every request or invitation. It's okay to prioritize your own needs and well-being. In fact, taking good care of yourself enables u to show up better for others.

Part 6: The deeper aspects | grace under pressure and timeless wisdom

Handling criticism :

☆ Don't take things personally, even when they're meant personally. Most of the time, when someone is being rude or cruel, it says more about them and their inner state than it does about you. This understanding helps you respond with compassion rather than anger.

☆ Stand up for yourself and others without being aggressive or mean. You can be firm and clear about your boundaries while still treating others with respect. You can defend yourself or someone else without attacking the other person's character.

☆ Choose your battles wisely. Not every slight needs to be addressed, not every argument needs to be won. Sometimes the most elegant response is to simply not engage with negativity or drama as I said before

The ripple effect of true elegance:

☆ When you embody true elegance, it has a positive impact that extends far beyond yourself. You become someone who elevates the energy of every room you enter, who makes others feel better about themselves, who inspires others to be their best selves.

☆ You create a safe space for others to be authentic and vulnerable. When people are around someone who is genuinely elegant, they feel permission to let their guard down and be real because they trust that they won't be judged or attacked.

☆ You model what's possible In a world that often seems to reward the loudest, most dramatic, or most aggressive behavior, you show that there's another way to be powerful through grace, kindness, and quiet confidence.

☆ You contribute to a more civil and beautiful world. Every interaction you have with grace and kindness makes the world a little bit better. You're part of the solution to the coarseness and negativity that seems to be everywhere.

finally why this never goes out of style

ㅤ۪ㅤ۫ ꪆ୧ㅤElegance never goes out of style because it's based on timeless human values and qualities that people have always been drawn to and always will be. Trends come and go. Fashion changes. What's considered cool or popular shifts constantly. But kindness, grace, confidence, integrity, and the ability to make others feel valued these qualities have been attractive for thousands of years and will continue to be attractive for thousands more.

ㅤ۪ㅤ۫ ꪆ୧ㅤWhen you develop true elegance, you're investing in something that will serve you for your entire life. It will help you in your relationships, your career, your personal growth, and your overall happiness. It's a gift you give yourself that keeps giving returns. And perhaps most importantly, true elegance is contagious. When you embody these qualities, you inspire others to do the same. You become part of raising the standard for how people treat each other and move through the world.

So commit to this journey. It's not always easy, and you won't be perfect at it, but it's absolutely worth it. Start where you are with what you have, and take it one day at a time. The world needs more truly elegant people and you can be one of them. Have a lucky Vicky daaay

@bloomzone

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Someone told me they weren't a fan of Silver because he's written too heroically good without any flaws. To be fair, you don't have to like Silver at all; to each their own, but I don't understand how someone can go through Book 7 and not see the blatant flaws the writers gave him.

If I had to pinpoint why his flaws aren't as well seen, it is likely because he's not intentional about any harm he causes at all. It's not as shown in Book 7, but he's like Kalim where he is known to be naive, oblivious, and blunt to an almost painful degree, lacking total social awareness in most situations. In Book 7, specifically, we see that he has total self-worth issues, where he feels like he needs to repay Lilia for raising him (he doesn't) and constantly apologizes for things outside of his control (like Malleus's overblot). Poor self-worth is still a character flaw, even if it doesn't necessarily have a negative effect on other characters, and it manifests itself in Silver in a different way than how Sebek's issues with his self-worth are shown. I know that they aren't the most obvious character flaws, like how other characters are seen as arrogant, petty, or quick to anger, but they're still flaws regardless.

It's probably harder for the writers to write flaws for a character whose main inspiration comes from a Disney prince and princess, who are often characterized as paragons of good morality (most princesses' main character flaws are naivety anyway). But just because he's more stereotypically good than the rest of the cast does not negate the flaws he does have. What are your thoughts? Off-topic, but I really enjoy reading your character analyses even if I don't agree with them sometimes; it helps me look at the story from a new perspective.

dhjwekskskn Very quickly, thank you for the feedback! That’s always my goal with analyses—not to necessarily change minds, but to hopefully expose others to + get them thinking about perspectives beyond their own.

This is the first time I’ve heard of someone claiming Silver doesn’t have flaws 🤔 I would sort of get it if this was pre-book 7, as Silver content is quite scarce before then. Mmm… even so, he has opportunities in various vignettes and event stories to show us areas where he’s lacking. For example, in Leona's Ceremonial Robes vignettes, Silver believes that Leona and Malleus are friends, despite Leona's very blatant hostility towards Malleus--which indicates denseness and a lack of social awareness. He's also unaware of how he presents himself to others, leading to peers thinking he's unapproachable (his Dorm Uniform vignettes) or to otherwise be stiff-faced (something Vil comments on in Fairy Gala If and in Silver's P.E. vignettes). Those can, however, be easy to miss, especially if you weren’t already on the lookout for him to begin with.

I think we readily overlook Silver’s flaws (even when they’re on display) because 1) he’s not as loud about it like Kalim is and 2) he’s a “good” guy in a cast of characters that usually act like assholes or take it a step further and come close to committing actual crimes. It’s hard for a normal nice guy to stand out against that crowd. Another part of it is, I think, how Silver's greatest shortcoming is easily conflated for something "good".

A consistent theme for Silver is feeling as though he is not enough. This can cause him to train intensely in order to rectify the situation. For example, in the aforementioned Dorm Uniform vignettes, Silver immediately seeks help learning how to appear more friendly to his classmates. Similarly, in Azul's Halloween Dress vignette, Silver assumes extensive training to help him be more intimidating so that he can get the other Diasomnia students to obey him. (As it turns out, they actually don't listen to him because Silver has a tendency to fall asleep mid-conversation.) He also drinks coffee, invests money in clocks, and does whatever he can to help himself stay alert, as he cites his inability to stay awake as a personal shortcoming rather than a health condition he has no control over. He’s frequently apologizing to others for falling asleep on them and even apologizing for others (like Sebek). In short, Silver is always pushing himself to "be better" (something typically regarded as positive), which is a LARGE contrast to the majority of his peers, who are resistant to change and slow to acknowledge their faults. The key thing to note here is that Silver is doing all of this out of a lack of self-worth. He believes he's not worthy, not good enough.

This all culminates in the events of book 7, in which we learn that Silver has deep-rooted insecurities about being "enough" for Lilia as well. As he tells Malleus in 7-28:

"17 years ago... Father found me as a baby deep in the forests of Briar Valley. Father is fae. I'm human. I'm not related to him by blood, and there's no other reason for him to be responsible for me. Yet he took me in. He raised me as if I were his own. He fed me, he trained me, he stayed with me all night whenever I was sick... Humans and fae are different in every way, from our constitutions, to how fast we grow—all of it. Barely anyone in Briar Valley knows how to care for a human. And Father lived alone there. I can only imagine how hard it must've been for him to raise a human baby with no one to turn to for help... I can never thank him enough. I was ready to spend the rest of my life repaying him... But I haven't given back a single thing... And now he's planning to pass on in a faraway land. Even if Father loses his magic and grows frail... Even if he forgets everything, I still want to be at his side, supporting him... I'm far from a fine son! I can't grant my father the one thing he wished for. He wanted me to send him off with a smile on my face..."

Silver is incredibly hard on himself, and even moreso once he learns the truth of his bloodline. Not only does he tell himself that he's undeserving of Lilia's love or even calling himself his son, but he also convinces himself that Malleus and Sebek would also despise him now + tells himself he deserves this:

"Father, don't... I... I don't deserve your love." (context: he's telling past!Lilia to not taking in his infant self)

"Stop that! Stop crying! You have no right to cry!" (context: Silver berates his infant self for sobbing when Lilia takes him in)

"What worth could a bunch of shriveled up old acorns have? Why would you lie like that...? *sob, sob*" (context: Silver learns that the acorn bracelet Lilia considers his "single most valuable possession" was a gift from child!Silver)

"It's pitch black everywhere... Maybe this place is what I deserve. I can just stay here, alone...forever... *sob* (context: Silver is astray in his own darkness)

"What must Sebek think of me now...? ...Does he hate me? I don't want to think about it... I don't want to think about anything."

"Father, did you know that this ring originally belonged to the Dawn Knight...? The Dawn Knight, enemy to you and all of Briarland... Vanquisher of Malleus's parents... And I'm... I'm his... *sob* *sob* *gulp*I... I... How will I ever face you and Malleus after this? *sob, sob*"

"Even though we aren't related by blood, I've always seen myself as your son. But...I can't call myself that in good conscience any longer." "You could never truly love someone related to the Silver Owls... Let alone the Dawn Knight's son! You could never... *sob, sob*"

"Was that voice another vision I conjured to comfort myself?" (context: Silver is greeted by a vision of Lilia praising him; he rejects that image, but accepts a hostile version of past!Lilia who sees him as the Dawn Knight and moves in to strike him down)

Silver is only pulled out of his swamp of darkness when Sebek reminds him that he is so strong only as a result of Lilia's love. Even after this point in time, we see Silver's penchant to be a little too self-sacrificing putting him in danger. He throws himself in harm's way to shield Lilia from a blow in the Eastern Fortress, does the same at Mallemom's lightning, and when confronting Malleus multiple times throughout book 7. (This isn't even limited only to protecting his father; Silver is shown to jump into action in other instances, like protecting Idia in GloMasq from what is basically a party popping handkerchief. Sebek doesn't do the same; his protective behaviors primarily relate to Diasomnia.) Silver is, quite literally, willing to lay his life on the line for others--and that, in part, comes from being a trained knight, of course. However, part of it could also coes from a place of thinking of others as having more worth than he does, or feeling as though he must "repay" the people important to him.

This is why it's sooo satisfying seeing Silver formally take on Lilia's surname at the end of book 7. This entire time, he has been struggling with his identity and self-worth. By finally becoming "Silver Vanrouge", he's affirming that his father does love him, and that he is worthy of having that love. Everyone there at the party is even there to bear witness to the completion of that character arc.

[anim-ttrpgs]

Disabilities and Monsters in Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy

Through a discussion with @vixensdungeon (great blog to follow for TTRPG stuff by the way) it came to our attention that some of our more jokey and memey posts and reblogs may have given some people a slightly skewed idea of what Eureka, and particularly the “urban fantasy” parts of Eureka are really about, and its tone. We like to joke around about it, and the “cute monster girl” angle really sells on tumblr.com, but actually playing these types of characters in Eureka is not exactly a power fantasy. They eat people, and often eat them alive. If you find that cute, funny, and/or sexy, well, Eureka is still probably just the game you’re looking for, but that isn’t the main thing. Eureka uses the fact that many of these characters necessarily subsist off the flesh and/or blood of other people as a loose metaphor for mental and physical disability.

Imagine you need something that everyone else has but you don’t. If you don’t have it regularly, you will literally start to waste away. The only way to obtain this thing is to take it from another human being, who also needs it, and others will deny that you need it, and abhor that you need it. It’s not uncommon for people, even “progressive” people, to say something along the lines of “they need to all be killed for the good of society,” even if they don’t realize that’s what they’re saying. You didn’t choose to be this way. This is the reality of monsters in Eureka, and many people in real life.

And then even when you have that thing you need, for now, there are many facets of society that you just can’t participate in because your condition makes them impossible for you, like if a vampire wanted to take a run on a sunny beach. Monsters in Eureka will be challenged by their supernatural weaknesses at every turn, while hiding their abhorrent needs from society and even the rest of the party, and asking why they have to be this way. Finding clever ways to get around and circumvent their weaknesses is a core part of the gameplay of monster PCs in Eureka. Imagine you and your friends want or need to go somewhere, but that somewhere is on the other side of a river. The river has a well maintained bridge. For everyone else but you, a vampire who can’t cross running water, getting across the river is the simplest task in the world, so much so that no one would even consider it a task, but for you, it’s a challenge, and for gameplay, it’s a puzzle.

It isn’t totally hopeless, as many of the jokes and fan comics show (those aren’t just memes, they’re only showing one side of the coin and not the other). Monsters who accept, or even embrace and celebrate their monsterhood, can and do exist canonically, alongside monsters who can’t bear to do what they do. In some cases, these may be the same monster on different days.

I’m going to conclude this post by posting two excerpts from the rules text itself.

Disabilities are Disabling

So why don’t disabilities grant any advantage? It isn’t too uncommon for RPGs to have some sort of “flaw” system, where during character creation you can give your character “flaws” or some kind of penalty, and usually get that balanced out by being able to add extra bonuses elsewhere. Sometimes, these “flaws” may take the form of disabilities.

One particular high-profile indie TTRPG takes this beyond just character creation, and makes it so that if a PC receives a “scar” in combat that reduces their physical stats, their mental stats automatically go up by an equivalent amount, and proudly imply that to make any mechanic which results in permanent consequences or makes disabilities disabling is ableist. We think you can probably tell what we think of that from this sentence alone, and we don’t need to elaborate too much. 

We do think, in the abstract, “flaw” systems in character creation are not a bad idea. They allow for more varied options during character creation, while preserving game balance between the PCs.

But in real life, people aren’t balanced. The events that left me injured and disabled didn’t make me smarter or better in any way - if anything, they probably made me dumber, considering the severity of the concussion! Some things happened to me, and now I’m worse. There’s no upside, I just have to keep going, trying harder with a less efficient body, and relying more on others in situations where I am no longer capable of perfect self-sufficiency.

A disabled person is, by definition, less able to perform important daily tasks than the average person. To deny this is to deny that they need help, and to deny that they need help is to enable a refusal to help. This is the perspective from which Eureka’s Grievous Wounds mechanic was written.

When a character is reduced to 1 HP (which by design can result from a single hit from many weapons) they may become incapacitated or they may take a Grievous Wound, which is a permanent injury with no stat benefits. Grievous Wounds don’t have to result from combat, they can also be given to a character during character creation, but not as a trade-off for an extra bonus.

“But then doesn’t my character just have worse stats than the rest of the party?” Yes, haven’t you been reading this? There is no benefit, except for the opportunity to play a disabled character in an TTRPG. This character will probably have to be more reliant on the rest of the party to get by in various situations. Is that a bad thing?

Monsters Essay

All investigators in Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy are regular people. They can also be a monster, like a blood-sucking vampire or a broom-riding witch. Importantly, this works because despite their unique nature, monsters are still regular people. You can read more about this in Chapter 8, but the setting of Eureka does not have a conspiracy or “masquerade” hiding supernatural people from normal society. Though they are still largely unknown to modern science, they exist within normal society - and a lot of them eat people.

The default assumption in RPGs has been that monsters are just evil by nature, doing evil for evil’s sake. RPGs that seek to subvert this expectation often instead make monsters misunderstood and wrongfully persecuted, but harmless. Eureka takes a wholly different approach.

There are five playable types of monsters in the rulebook right now, and it’ll be seven if we hit all the stretch goals, but for simplicity’s sake this discussion of themes will just focus on the vampire. Despite them applying in different ways, the same overall themes apply to nearly every monster, so if you get the themes for the vampire, you’ll get the gist of what Eureka is doing with its playable monsters in general.

Mundane investigators have to keep themselves going by eating food and sleeping (see p.XX “Composure” for more information). Well, vampires can’t operate the same way. They don’t sleep, and normal food might be tasty for them as long as it isn’t too heavily seasoned, but it doesn’t do anything for them nutritionally. Their main way to keep themselves functioning is fresh living human blood, straight from the source. To do what mundane PCs do normally by just eating and sleeping, vampires have to take from another, whether either of them are happy with this arrangement or not. They do not, of course, literally have to, and a player is not forced to make their vampire PC drink blood, just like you reading this in real life don’t literally have to eat food. You do eat food if you want to live in any degree of comfort or happiness, and vampires do drink blood or they eventually become unable to effectively do anything.

This is numerically, mechanically incentivized and not simply a rule that says something like “this character is a vampire and therefore they must drink blood once every session,” to demonstrate that the circumstances a person faces drive their behavior. In America, there is a tendency to think of criminality and harm done to others as resulting from intrinsic evil, but people do not just wake up one day and decide “I think I’ll go down the criminal life path.” Their circumstances have barred them from the opportunities that would have given them other options. 

People need food; food costs money; money requires work; work requires getting hired; but getting hired requires a nearby job opening, an education, an impressive resume, nice clothes, charisma, consistent transportation, and so on. For people without other options, crime becomes the only method left to meet their basic needs. Would you rather take what you need from other people, or go without what you need? There are people who don’t have the luxury of a third option. Failure to meet the needs of even a small number of people in a society has high potential to harm the entire society, not just those individuals whose needs are unmet.

As their basic need for blood becomes more and more difficult to ignore, a vampire is going to encounter much the same dilemma. There is really no “legal” or “harmless” way for them to get their needs met, even if they do have resources. Society just isn’t set up for that. And no, your kink is not the solution to this, trying to suggest every vampire just find willing participants who are turned on by vampires or being bitten is suggesting sex work. It’s one step removed from telling a girl she should just get an OnlyFans the minute she turns 18, or that women should just marry a rich man and be a housewife that gets their needs taken care of in exchange for sex and housekeeping. Being forced into such a dynamic isn’t ethical or harmless for the vampire or for their “clients.”

“Oh well, then the vampire should just eat bad people!” You mean those same bad people we just described above? Who gets to decide which people are “bad people?” Who gets to decide that the punishment is assault or death?

Playable monsters in Eureka are dangerous, harmful people. They were set up to be.

Society not being set up in a way that allows monsters to make ethical choices brings us to the next theme: monstrousness as disability, and monsters as “takers.”

Vampires have to take from others a valuable resource that everyone needs to live, and the extraction of which is excruciatingly painful and debilitating. No one knows what happens to blood after a vampire drinks it, it’s just gone. Vampires are open wounds through which blood pours out of the universe.

This is a special need, something they have to take but cannot give back. Their special needs make them literally a drain on society and the people around them. In the modern world, there is a tendency to feel that people must justify their right to life, that they must pay for the privilege of existing in society. This leads people to consider “takers” (people who take much more than they give back, such as disabled people) as something that needs to be pruned away for the betterment of everyone else. Even many so-called “progressives,” while they claim not to agree with pruning “useless eaters,” still hold the unexamined belief that people must justify their existence. To reconcile these two incompatible ideas, they instead simply deny that disabled people take more resources than most people, and are capable of giving back less. This sentiment is perfectly illustrated by the aforementioned game’s insistence that disabilities are never a net reduction of a character’s stats.

Vampires and other playable monsters are inarguably “takers,” but in positioning them as protagonists right alongside mundane protagonists, Eureka puts you in their shoes, and forces you to acknowledge their inner lives and reckon with their circumstances. You have to acknowledge two things: first, that they are dangerous, that they are harmful, that they take more than they give - and second, that they are people. Because they are people, Eureka asserts that they have inherent value, a right to exist, and a right to do what they need to do to exist. (We also acknowledge that their potential victims have a right to do what they need to do to exist and defend themselves, but that is a separate discussion.)

One final point to touch on is mental illness. Mental illness is a disability, one pretty comparable to physical disability in a lot of ways, so all of the above points can apply to this metaphor as well, but there are a few unique comparisons to make here.

It’s not the most efficient, but there are a couple of loopholes deliberately left in the rules that allow vampires to sometimes sporadically restore Composure (and thus their ability to function) without drinking blood. Eureka! moments and Comfort checks from fellow investigators can restore Composure.

When writing the rules, we came to a dilemma where we weren’t sure if it was thematically appropriate for monsters to be able to regain Composure in these ways (since it could lessen their reliance on causing harm), but ultimately we decided that yes, they can.

People with mental illnesses may have the potential to be harmful and dangerous, but all the information we have access to has shown that mentally ill people with robust support structures and control over their own lives are much less likely to enact harm, whether through physical violence, relational violence, or violence against the self. This is why we kept that rule in for playable monsters. Being able to accomplish their goals, and having friends who are there for them, makes that person less likely to cause unnecessary harm.

Vampires are especially great for demonstrating this because they’re immortal and they always come back when “killed.” They can’t be exterminated, they aren’t going away, there will always be problem people in society, no matter how utopian or “progressive.” Vampires are a never-ending curse, who will always be a problem whether they like it or not. The question is how you will grapple with their inevitable presence in society and how you will treat them, not how you will get rid of them.

Eureka is as much a study of the characters themselves as it is the mystery being solved by the characters. It is a game about harsh realities, but it is ultimately compassionate. It argues through its own gameplay that yes, people do have circumstances which drive their behavior, people do have special needs that are beyond their ability to reciprocate, many of those people do cause harm or inconvenience to others, and all of them are still valuable. 

Elegantly designed and thoroughly playtested, Eureka represents the culmination of three years of near-daily work from our team, as well as a lot of our own money. If you’re just now reading this and learning about Eureka for the first time, you missed the crowdfunding window unfortunately, but you can still check out the public beta on itch.io to learn more about what Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy actually is, as that is where we have all the fancy art assets, the animated trailer, links to video reviews by podcasts and youtubers, etc.!

You can also follow updates on our Kickstarter page where we post regular updates on the status of our progress finishing the game and getting it ready for final release.

Beta Copies through the Patreon

If you want more, you can download regularly updated playable beta versions of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy earlier, plus extra content such as adventure modules by subscribing to our Patreon at the $5 tier or higher. Subscribing to our patreon also grants you access to our patreon discord server where you can talk to us directly and offer valuable feedback on our progress and projects.

The A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club

If you would like to meet the A.N.I.M. team and even have a chance to play Eureka with us, you can join the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club discord server. It’s also just a great place to talk and discuss TTRPGs, so there is no schedule obligation, but the main purpose of it is to nominate, vote on, then read, discuss, and play different indie TTRPGs. We put playgroups together based on scheduling compatibility, so it’s all extremely flexible. This is a free discord server, separate from our patreon exclusive one. https://discord.gg/7jdP8FBPes

Other Stuff

We also have a ko-fi and merchandise if you just wanna give us more money for any reason.

We hope to see you there, and that you will help our dreams come true and launch our careers as indie TTRPG developers with a bang by getting us to our base goal and blowing those stretch goals out of the water, and fight back against WotC's monopoly on the entire hobby. Wish us luck.

[lunasfics]

Found Family Masterlist

You're a clone created from the DNA of Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent. Being created with intent to be used as a weapon of mass destruction was not something you asked for, neither was getting taken in by both the Waynes and the Kents. You suppose since this is your life now you have no choice but to live with it.

1- Found Family - In which Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent engage in a custody battle over a clone created from both their DNA, or, in which you get saved from a lab and gain two new families who would move mountains for you.

a/n: so the parts of this universe wont necessarily be connected unless stated other wise, the works below can be read in any order, the only thing that needs to be read first is this first chapter above, as you need to have read it in order to fully understand the sin off chapters. hope you enjoy this universe as much as i do!

Under the Blossoms - You’re new to that concept, it’s one thing you have yet to fully adjust to. The concept of people actively choosing to love you as you are, people who care if you disappear without a trace, people who see your flaws and shortcomings and still choose to see the good in you. 

[luvyeni]

SISTER TAMER ,, 黄仁俊

pairings ‎⸝⸝⸝ roommate!renjun x reader wc. 2.2k

genre. smut

🦢◞  includes ... reader is marks sister, oral ( m receiving ), throat fucking, rough sex, degradation, pussy slapping, unprotected sex

request. brother's best friend renjun x reader 🥺 pretty please 🥺

「 authors note 𖹭 」 i like this one , mean dom junnie means everything to me.

❪ masterlist! ❫

renjun liked mark; he was clean, he paid his bills on time and he was an all around good guy. he did have one flaw though, and it wasn't necessarily him, but an attachment to him— mark had a sister; you, renjun didn't like you.

you had moved in a year after he did; you were a freshman in college and your brother had an extra room, and who was he to say no? his name wasn't on the lease— he soon wished it was, cause then he had authority to get rid of you. you were a nightmare. he and mark did everything; the cooking, the cleaning; mark paid his and your portion of the bills, and gave you money that you spent on stupid stuff in his opinion.

“she's just not use to hearing the word no.” mark would say when he'd tell mark about your behavior. “our parents really spoiled her, it's best to just give her what she wants, to avoid anything.” that just pissed renjun off even more; he didn't want to move out, he actually grew to like mark, and the apartment was close to his campus and his job— it was just you; all he had to do was get rid of you, but that didn't seem like it was happening for a very long time.

“good morning junie!” you chirped walking into the kitchen, he grumbled. “i told you to stop calling me that.” you smiled; reaching up to grab a mug from the cabinet, the shirt he was assuming was your brothers raising up revealing a new tattoo on your lower back, along with part of your ass, he was used to it by now; the tiny shorts you would always wear against your brother wishes. “does your brother know you got that?” you smirked. “you gonna tell me junie?”

“it's none of his business, i’m an adult.” you sat down. “besides he won't know, only people i want to see it can.” you winked, sitting down at the table. “mark told you about wearing those shorts in the house.” you rolled your eyes. “please, do you listen to everything mark says?” he was already irritated; and you were making it worse. “what are you two talking about?” mark emerged from his room. “nothing mark.” you stood up from your seat , finishing your coffee. “yo, go put some clothes on.” mark said, you scoffed. “i literally just got up, i wanted coffee before my shower.”

“well you got your coffee, now go out some clothes on,” he said. “me and the girls are going out later tonight, can i have some money?” renjun watched the older boy sigh. “i don't get paid until tomorrow; i just gave you money.” your whine rang throughout the boys head. “please i need it, for drinks.” mark sighed in defeat. “fine , i'll wire you the money, now go get dressed,” he said, smiling while skipping back to your room. “you know you could've just told her no.”

mark nodded, “you heard her about to start man.” renjun sat up. “she could also get a job.” mark scoffed. “don't worry about man, but i do have to tell you something.” renjun nodded for him to continue. “gotta work the late shift tonight, won't be in until the morning.” renjun knew where this was going; it's happened numerous of times before. “mark.” he sighed. “i know , i know but i can't turn this down and you know she's not gonna give up a night out.” the elder boy said. “just make sure she gets in and into bed safely.”

great now he had to babysit a drunk you, on the night he was supposed to be studying. “look, i'll pay the light bill for this month,” he said. “its the least i could do after having to deal with that.” renjun nodded. “thank you so much bro, just make sure she doesn't swallow her tongue, or fall asleep in the shower…” mark stood up from his seat. “again.”

“has anything worked?” yunjin asked. “nothing, he doesn't budge.” you said , downing your second shot. “he's always just so moody.” ryujin laughed. “maybe he's just not interested in you” you scoffed. “maybe or maybe im not trying hard enough.” your friends shook their heads. “and what do you think mark is gonna do when he finds out his little sister is trying to fuck his roommate.” you shrugged. “my brother doesn't have to know everything i do with my life.”

stumbling down the hall of your apartment; putting the code in the door; pushing the door open. “mark!” you shouted, words slurring, taking your shoes off. “mark!” you repeated, walking to the back where your room was— also where renjuns room was.

renjun typed away on his screen, earphones in, not noticing you stumbling into his room— that was until his earphones were snatched out his ear. “what the fuck!” you chuckled. “where's mark?” you sat on his bed. “you smell like alcohol.” he scrunched his nose in disgust. “that's because i’ve been drinking, duh.” he rolled his eyes. “your brother had the late shift, he told me to make sure you get in safe.” he said. “you look safe , now get out and don't swallow your tongue.”

“mmh, don't wanna.” you laid back on his bed. “wanna stay right here.” he sighed, annoyed. “get up.” you ignored him, your skirt rising up, he could see your black panties. “yn get up and go to your room, now.” your hair messily displayed around your head like a halo. “yn im not fucking around.” you sat up, your boobs almost peeking out. “no.”

you could barely register anything before he was out of his chair, standing in front of you. “im so sick of you.” you felt a tug to your hair. “you don't fucking listen.” he growled , forcing you to look up at him. “that shit stops today.”

your panties were soaked, watching him undo the ties of his sweats, using his free had to push them down to his ankles. “re-renjun.” he grabbed your jaw. “shut the fuck up.” he spat, his cock hard in his underwear— guess seeing your panties really got him going. “you talk when i give you permission to, understand?” you nodded. “you have a mouth, use it.”

“y-yes.” your mouth water as he pulled his cock out, slapping it across your cheek. “you want my cock so bad it's disgusting.” he cursed, rubbing it along your cheek. “desperate for a cock even if attached to someone who can't stand you.” he tapped the tip of his length, coating your plump lips in his precum. “pl-please, i want it.”

“did i say speak?” he slapped your cheek. “apologize.” he ordered. “s-sorry.” you stuttered out. “good you do know how to listen when im telling you to do something.” he said. “you're not my , hpmh!” your bratty comeback was interrupted by renjun shoving his cock into your wet cavern. "fuck, just couldn't help yourself.” he growled. “at least your mouth is good for something.” he moaned, hand tangled up in your mane. “tired of you always running your mouth.” he pushed your head all the way down on his length. “fuck , time to put it to good use.”

he pulled out; leaving trail of spit dripping down your chin. “gonna fuck your face.” he shoved himself back inside, thrusting into your mouth. “yeah, fuck!” he cursed, your throat contractions around his cock, the gagging and lewd noises coming from your throat egging him off. “nasty fucking mouth.” he pushed your head down on his length , holding it there. “come on choke on my cock fuck you want it so bad.” your manicured hands holding his thighs. “shit!”

he let your head go, finally giving you air. you sputtered and coughed , black streaks from your mascara running down your cheeks. “im not done yet slut.” he pulled you back , shoving his cock back down your throat. “gonna cum down your throat.” his hips moved back and forth a fast pace. “fu-fucking take it!”

you felt the warmth of his seed, hitting the back of your throat. “shit!” he released your head again. “look at you all messy, covered in spit like a true slut.” his cock bobbing against his stomach. “turn the fuck around.” not giving you a chance to recover from his assault on your throat. “come on do it.” he pushed you back on the bed , flipping you on to your stomach. “put your fucking ass up.” he maneuvered your body.

“soaked right through your panties.” he slapped your ass, pulling your skirt down. “tiny fuckin skirt.” you yelped feeling another sting to your ass. “wearing shit like this to get my attention huh?” he rubbed your cock along your folds. “i asked you a question.” another sharp sting to your ass making you moan in pleasure. “y-yes, all for you.” you gasped.

“slut.” he spat on his cock, using your juices to lube his cock. “beg for it.” you whined, only for him to slap your ass. “if i wanted to listen to you whine like a child would've said so , i said fucking beg , come on , beg for my cock like you beg your brother for money.”

“pl-please junie.” you whimpered, pussy aching to be filled. “pl-please fuck me, i want it.” moving your ass on his length. “i want your cock inside me.” trying to fuck yourself on his cock, he didn't like that. “what the fuck are you doing?” he growled, pushing your head down into his pillow. “did i say do that? you don't fucking listen.” he shoved his cock inside you giving you no warning. “fuck!”

he waited no time, not giving you any time to adjust to his sudden intrusion, holding your waist in his hands , fucking you; your ass bouncing. “you don't make the rules with me , i do -fuck- you understand?” you were too fucked out to answer , but he still wanted one, grabbed you hair , tugging hard. “answer me!”

“fuck yes!” you shouted, neighbors probably getting a sense of what was going on, but that was marks problem; you could barely even function, shouting his name like a mantra as he abused your cunt. “fuck I'm gonna cum!”

your cunt was gripping his cock like a vice, he wasn't sure how long he was gonna last. “fuck!” he hissed. “pl-please let me cum.” you cried , legs burning , tears streaming down your face. “you gonna be a good girl -fuck- when me or your brother tells you to do something you're gonna do it right?” he slapped your cunt. “fuck junie!” you screamed. “are you?”

“i didn't say you can, so fu-fucking hold it.” he grunted, you whined , usually when you had sex , you came whenever you wanted, this was new. “i-i can't.” you slurred. “i didn't fucking ask.” he pulled out , giving your ass one last slap, flipping you on your back, shoving his cock back inside you, hitting a new angle.

“yes fuck!” you screamed. “pl-please.” he grunted. “fuck im gonna cum.” he hissed. “cum , cream my fucking cock like a slut.” the knot in your stomach snapping , cumming, a white ring forming around his cock as he continued to fuck you. “sh-shit.” he quickly removed himself , cumming all over your stomach. “ugh fuck!”

you were heavy breathing, coming down from your long awaited high; renjun on the other hand wasn't done. “get the fuck up , we're not done.” he said. “shit is gonna change around here , even if i gotta fuck it into you.” … you were in for a long night.

…

mark tiredly made his way down the hall to the apartment, ready to hit his bed. “huh?” he noticed three written letters tapped to his door; renjun must've had a girl or some over. ripping the papers off the door , putting in the password , throwing the papers in the trash. “renjun?”

he checked the time, the boy normally was up eating breakfast by now. “jun where you at bro?” he heard shuffling and cursing coming from the boys room , he shook his head , going to check on you— your bed hadn't been slept in. “shit jun she didn't come in last night.” you could be past out somewhere and he wouldn't know. “jun did she come in last night?” he knocked on the boy's door.

“sh-shit that's your brother get up.” the boy shook you, you groaned in pain. “my head.” your voice horse. “my legs.” you were ignoring the boy next to throwing your clothes at you. “junie what-” you suddenly saw the darkness off the blanket covering you. “did you see— what the fuck are you doing?” you shoved the blanket off your head , face going pale , your brother standing in the doorway. “mark.”

“mark bro— whatever went down in this room , i don't want to know , and i never want to know.” he said. “just know it better not happen while im here and keep it down so the neighbors better not come knocking.” he shut the door before any of you could say something. “this is why i said go to your room last night, but insisted on sleeping here.”

“and you let me.” you smirked condescendingly , that pissed him off. “did you not learn anything from last night?” he grabbed your jaw; a loud bang on the wall.

“get the fuck out of his room now!”

©LUVYENI

[radioactivesweet]

can i request poseidon x ExiledGod!S/o whose the God of Life and Nature and protector of living things? They give him pretty flowers and their voice is soothing and calming, a baby would fall asleep listening to their voice. They were exiled to earth in the mortal realm for disobeying a law, so they lived forever in earth in a secluded forest and helps hikers or a passerby.

this sounds like such a cute concept!!! hope you'll like it^^ I might have gone a bit off track ngl

Behind his expressionless façade, Poseidon was quite unsettled when he first heard the news: you had been exiled to the mortal realm. He wasn't expecting you, out of all the gods he knew, to be given this punishment... no, deep down, he knew that was something you have been longing for. It wouldn't surprise him if he were to discover that you disobeyed the rules on purpose. You have always been quite unusual, after all.

Most gods look down on humans, Poseidon first and foremost. Somehow you loved, you protected them - respected even To someone like Poseidon it was an unconceivable thought - he couldn't bring himself to respect his fellow gods, whom he deemed as vile and cowards, much less humans. Despite your differences, he respected you, who needn't allies nor schemed, who loved unconditionally without asking for anything in return. He didn't necessarily approve of your beliefs, nor he did care to correct you - yet, after you had been exiled, Poseidon found himself more and more often wandering around the mortal realm.

"I've been missing you too", you greeted him with a smile while his brows furrowed, missing you? You must have misunderstood him. "I was just passing by", he explained, despite it being unreasonable for someone like him to be just "passing by". You seemed healthy, heaalthier than the last time he had meet you in the Heavens - wherever you'd walk, flowers and grass would grow beneath your feet, life would thrive all around you, making it spring all year long... and it all seemed to be amplified now that you were on Earth. He thought you were beautiful under the gentle light of the sun, finally at peace.

You welcomed him in your lair, a cottage in the middle of the woods, a place where those were lost could find refuge, where nature blossomed undisturbed - a peaceful coexistance between men and the rest of the natural world, something which gods considered to be unattainable. Something only you could make possible.

At first his visits were sporadic, it would be years before he would come back and visit you, then it became a matter of months... then you'd be counting the days in between your meetings. Sometimes you were surrounded by humans who couldn't find their way out of the forest, other times you were looking after a group of childreen, singing lullabies in moonlit nights, some other time animals were listening to you as if you were part of their pack. The essence of a deity, not through power, but through love, a feeling he had rarely been able to perceive. He could almost feel it warming his chest whenever you smiled at him or told him some kind word. The most anomalous god he had ever met, definitely.

He heard them, the so called "gods", talking idly about you, for leading that unconventional existance, as if you were the first deity banished in a far-away land, while they poured wine in golden goblets wasting their immortality chatting in their opulent palaces, without a care, "gods" who would hide behind him as soon as a minor accident occured. Those were not worthy of that title, you, who they costantly belittled, were. Your kindness, unparalleled, you, who had all humans virtues, but none of their flaws. Time would pass, yet you would remain unchanged. Poseidon, though, could feel himself changing a little bit every time he would meet you - slowly, but you noticed it too. Patiently, even the toughtest of stones is eroded by waterdrops.

[bitegore]

I made a character sheet to plot your OC's development over time! (There's supposed to be a character name in the big white space next to "over time" but it got eaten a little lmao)

You can use this for whatever you want, and you don't have to credit me. Feel free to change or edit anything you feel like. Please don't tag me if you credit me - just link to the original post.

Credits, explanations & a transparent version under the cut :D

Credits:

The actual image was made with the free NBOS character sheet creator, which is a sort of dated but free and solid text-layout sheet maker intended for ttrpg style character sheet creation.

Fonts used were Bisdak (titles) and Rockwell (body). Both are free! You can use them to fill it out if you like.

Inspired by a comment @maybe-solar-powered-calculator made on this other post about filling it out for characters at multiple points along their arcs. Thanks for putting the idea in my head :D

This is explicitly released under a CC0 1.0 deed, ie: you can do fucking whatever you want with it and I don't care and you don't have to tell anyone where you got it from and no one gets to stop you.

-

Last time I made one of these I got a bunch of questions on all manner of things, and I can never keep up, so I'm just appending a set of notes for how to use it and a glossary because I know some of these phrasings will be confusing.

Ignore or change anything you don't feel like works for you here. You can do whatever you want forever.

Suggested / intended use & general notes:

This sheet could work for something story-level, if you want. But it's really only good for individual arcs; if the character goes through multiple arcs in your story, then they're going to fit poorly here. In that case, you're probably better off doing versions for each arc, or just adapting this to a different format more suited to your thing.

Also, if your arc has a nontraditional structure - divorced from the typical "rising action - climax - conclusion" type of structure where there's a clear 'important turning point' - it may not work as well either.

The mindset section is meant to come at it from a 'golden mean' standpoint - that is, everything on either extreme of the slider is 'too much' and therefore bad. It's not bad-to-good! The far right side is a flaw too. They're only grouped the way they are on basis of the specific OCs I personally had in mind when I put it together.

Growth is labeled 'worse'-to-'better' but it means, like, active decrease in that area vs active increase; if nothing changes, it should stay at the center even if it sucks. The category is about contrasting changes, and sometimes changes are for the worse!

The entire sheet is very deliberately subjective. It should really be answered from the character's perspective - how they feel about it, not what's necessarily true. Technically you can do whatever you want and I can't stop you, but it's a better tool if you approach it from the point of view that the character may believe things that aren't true - that will define their behavior way more than the objective facts of the story.

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Definitions:

This part is long as hell - recommend using ctrl+f to find the specific words you're stuck on. I defined everything.

General categories:

Mindset: how your character thinks about themself and how they act. Their understanding of their own approach to life. Attitude, viewpoint, decision-making process, that sort of thing.

Circumstances: the relationship between your character and the world around them. Where they are, what that place is like, and how they feel about it.

Growth: how the character and their impact - their attitude, their behavior, their immediate surroundings - changes over time.

Outset: the start of the character's arc.

Present: the 'center' of the arc. If you're planning something ahead of time and it hasn't 'happened' yet, then this is the near future.

End-game: where they are after the conclusion of the arc.

Mindset terms:

Center of the world: "If I have a problem, it's the only thing that matters to me." Self-centered, self-absorbed. Doesn't necessarily mean anything beyond that - they don't necessarily have to be unpleasant to be entirely focused on their own life.

my life isn't relevant: "Everyone else's problems are so significant, I don't pay any attention to my own". Someone who ignores or neglects their own life in service of some other thing, or doesn't consider their own behavior to have any real importance.

Only see enemies: Paranoid. Everyone's out to get them. Anyone who seems nonthreatening is hiding their potential for danger and everyone who seems threatening is a threat. The character must remain ever-vigilant, lest the cashier at the 7/11 suddenly stab them, or their best friend turn out to secretly be trying to poison them to death.

Only see friends: Naïve. Everyone is a good actor who wishes everyone else well, and if they don't seem like they're acting from a place of kindness or care then you probably don't understand what they're up to. The character is pretty sure the stranger holding that knife is, like, someone to chat up maybe, they're clearly only hanging out in this dark alleyway because it's a nice spot and no other possible reason.

overthink everything: Ten thousand thoughts per every single action taken. Maybe they never get around to acting at all. They have to consider every possible outcome. What if by eating lunch they accidentally trigger the apocalypse?! Who's going to think about these things if not them?!?!?!

impulsive to action: Act first, think never. What do you mean "consequences of actions"?

Unilateral decisions: "I will make every choice and no one else's opinions or thoughts are relevant". Discounts outside suggestions. Firmly convinced that they know best in any situation, and will brook no disagreement with their views when it comes to actually doing things.

Command me, please: "I don't know what to do and I don't know what to even start with, someone please tell me what to think". No confidence in their own views. Will not make any decisions unless forced and even then will beg someone else to please tell them what to do. Has no idea what's best and is pretty sure anyone else will have a better idea.

can't ask for help: No one will ever help the character; they have to do everything themself, even the things other people have repeatedly offered to do for them and have much more experience with. Doesn't necessarily mean that no one will help them or that they are explicitly barred by some real-world circumstance; just that, for whatever reason, they refuse to ask for help. This is an attitude thing - will they ever reach out? No? Then they're here.

too reliant on others: Have they ever solved a problem alone? Do they believe they're even capable of doing so? The character all the way at this end of the scale absolutely never expects to be able to do anything themself, has no trust in their ability to solve a problem, and needs someone else to come save them from it. The kind of person who needs ChatGPT to do their homework. Again - doesn't actually mean anyone will help them, or that the people they're relying on are reliable - just that they think they are helpless without ... well, help.

Weapon maker: This has to do with problem-solving strategies and not actual weapons. The weapon-maker is a character who views every situation as a conflict that cannot be de-escalated or solved by cooperation, and responds appropriately. The most fundamental weapon maker character turns everything into an argument, a fight, a war, etc. There are a bunch of other responses to conflict, though - they might avoid problems that need solving because they avoid conflict generally too. Fundamentally what you want to answer here is: when they see a locked box and they don't have the key, do they respond to it the same way they'd respond to someone telling them "you can't open this box"? And how do they respond to that? Typical weapon-maker approaches: - brute-force the box open or try and then give up if it doesn't work; and also get into an argument that might turn physical with the hypothetical person - shrug and give up immediately, in both situations so on and so forth. Another hallmark is that they kind of suck at problem-solving and give up if brute-forcing a problem doesn't work. This is not someone who is picking locks unless someone else told them to - they have one solution, it's to make everything into a conflict, and then to win that conflict by beating them or to give up because they think they'll lose.

Tool maker: This person approaches every situation like it's a puzzle, not a fight - up to and including actual fights. Tool-maker characters generally assume that a situation can be solved by just finding the right approach and doing it the clever way. There's the same fundamental question as above - if your character sees a locked box and has no key, would they approach it differently than someone telling them they're not allowed to open the box? 'Typical' tool-maker approaches: - I can trick the person into giving me the key by saying the right things, and I can also pick the lock because fundamentally there are 'right answers' to both of these - If i make friends with this person, they might change their mind, because now we're cooperating. I can still pick the lock because there are 'right answers' there. - The person has a reason for wanting me not to open the box, so I can definitely figure out what that is and solve the reason so then they'll let me open it. I can take whatever it is even if they really want to keep it if I just find the right answer. I'm going to break this box into little pieces because that's the easiest way to get into it but I could probably open it some other way if that wouldn't work.

A note - the center of this bar is someone who generally has different responses to different kinds of situations - like, in the box example, they'd approach the box and the person with two different general attitudes and processes - but generally responds to those situations using the same kind of decision-making process for each category every time. Most people are nowhere near either extreme. Characters tend to be classifiable into weapon-maker and tool-maker because they are fictional and it's easier to define one kind of approach than many. Approximately average approaches: - pick the lock if no one's around, but give up if someone is there because someone telling me not to open the box is a conflict i think i'll lose but a locked box is just a puzzle that i can solve - argue with the person, but give up on the box, because they're approaching the box as a puzzle and they don't think they have the skill to get into it, but the person is someone who can be convinced or bullied into handing over the key

I made this particular dichotomy up, which is why I think I get a lot of questions on it whenever I put it into anything, but I also don't know of any other snappy way to describe this sort of thought or approach variance, and it's genuinely useful for character writing in my opinion.

Pessimist spot-finder: Generally a downer but not necessarily. This kind of character just approaches everything with a close eye for problems, issues, reasons to find fault. If they're miserable, it might be why, but like, they can be a cheerful spot-finder if you want, I just wanted to get at "the glass is half empty" and "the glass is half full" more than anything.

Optimist upside fan: The opposite. "The glass is half full". If there are problems, they can find something about them that's not so frustrating or bad to focus on. Pretty damn good at overlooking minor issues if there's no reason to fixate on them. Not necessarily cheerful.

Abysmal company: could not give less of a damn about treating people the way they 'should' be treated. Maybe they take pride in that. Maybe they just think it's irrelevant. Either way, they know they treat people badly and they don't see any reason to stop. Does not necessarily mean that they treat people badly if they think they're doing the right thing and are wrong. Doesn't mean they're actually pleasant or unpleasant to hang out with, either, unless you really want it to mean that.

Decent to others: treats people well as a matter of course, or at least they sure think they do. Makes an effort. Would probably care and/or consider changing their behavior if someone said they were treating someone poorly. As before - they can be completely un-self-aware and just think they're doing right by people while treating them completely horribly.

Morality is irrelevant: 'abysmal company' for broader approaches to life and problems. Maybe they just know they're myopic and don't think other people's problems matter. Maybe they just gave up on trying to differentiate between 'good' and 'bad' and outsourced it to someone else or stopped paying any attention. Maybe they just like to take morally unjust actions and can't be bothered giving a damn when someone points out that they're morally unjust, or maybe they're proud of it. Kind of a villain trait generally, but not necessarily - it doesn't have to mean they act badly, just that they don't care if they do. Also, this is about how they choose their own actions and view their own behavior. They can think morality is relevant for other people as long as they ignore it when they act themself.

Always in the right: feels morally righteous in every decision they make. Standard superhero type of trait. Doesn't necessarily pass judgement on others, doesn't necessarily act well according to everyone's moral code (see: blue and orange morality), but they are extremely principled and will never deviate from the moral code they personally believe in. And they do genuinely believe in it.

Circumstances terms:

Generally terrible to generally excellent: how subjectively decent is your character's situation, overall? If they think everything is horrible, but the situation is charmed to everyone except them, then it's generally terrible.

Need for changes to passive tolerance: will they do something about it? Do they feel like they have to?

No agency in action to decisions are huge: agency being "how much power do I have to make changes here?", this just asks how much they have. No agency means that, no matter what they do, nothing will happen - they might be locked in a cage or somehow otherwise completely unable to use any sort of power at all, even the power of just leaving. The other end of the spectrum is where every decision the character makes makes a huge difference, not just to themself but to everyone around them as well. They can start wars, they can have anyone they want killed, they can do anything whenever they feel like it. If they think they have no agency even though they do actually have agency, they don't have agency here. If they feel like they have all the agency in the world and can do anything, then they do even if it's not true. It's perceptual again.

Stakes are deadly to mistakes solvable: what are the consequences of failure? Will you die, will you lose status you can't afford to lose, will you lose belongings, will you have to apologize, will nothing happen at all? Mistakes solvable is where they think every mistake is solvable forever - the character pushes someone through a woodchipper and they come out and to fix it, maybe an apology has to occur, but not much else. Does not necessarily mean no one gets hurt or killed as long as the character thinks there are no permanent consequences. This is the most important one on this section to keep subjective because it will greatly influence how your character approaches situations. A character who thinks everything is deadly-stakes may go to cartoonishly-extreme lengths to avoid turning a report in a day late. A character who thinks all mistakes are always solvable may push someone through a woodchipper and then just assume they can say they're sorry and it'll all go away. The setting and their approach do not need to be applicable.

Needs go unmet to attended with care: how do the people around them treat them? Do they pay attention when the character needs something, or do they ignore it? Does the character have to do everything themself around here, or are there people who will help out?

Regarded poorly to regarded well: how do they think other people see them? Are they respected, are they liked, or are they disliked? Do people broadly trust them or are they pretty sure everyone regards them with suspicion?

Nothing changes to changes in seconds: functionally the 'stability' meter of your setting - is the situation generally stable, or are things constantly changing? Does your character feel like every five minutes, there's a new problem that needs dealing with, or do they feel like nothing has ever happened ever?

Growth terms:

Changes in place: do they go somewhere else? Does the physical setting otherwise change (eg; earthquake, war, etc) ? Are there any other reasons that the 'vibe' or 'experience' of the place is different from before?

Change in power: does the character's percieved agency (see: no agency in action to decisions are huge) change? Alternately you can use it if they've gained or lost power in some percieved way (deposed, assigned a commanding position, etc).

Change in bonds: do their relationships with people change? Have they made new friends, lost old friends, changed the nature of their relationships with friends or partners, etc?

Change in beliefs: straightforwardly, have their beliefs, morals, etc, changed?

Change in hurts: have they undergone some horrible experience? Do they have past trauma from some pre-arc horrible experience they're healing from and/or discovering they're more powerfully subject to? Did they experience a physical injury that they're recovering from or which materially changed their life? Did something recent dredge up old issues? So on and so forth.

Change in hopes: Do their desires for the future look the way they used to? Do they care about different things now? This is something the character is not actively working for, but may be tied to actual goals.

Change in fears: are they overcoming fears? Growing past them? Gaining new ones? Are they scared of shit different from how they used to be?

Change in goals: Not the same as a hope because it needs to have a specific, achievable outcome the character is actively working toward. Do those material goals look different? Perhaps they no longer want to work against something, maybe they didn't have any goals and now they do. Or maybe they've realized the goal is impossible, or something has happened to make that goal unachieveable. Whatever it is, if there's a change, it's a change.

Change in self-awareness: their beliefs about who they are and what they're like, and what their circumstances are. Have they gotten more self-aware, have they gotten less self-aware, or has nothing changed?

Change in relationships: their relationships' overall health and resilience, as far as the character is concerned - which doesn't mean they're necessarily good, just that the character thinks they're how they're supposed to be. Have they improved? Have they gotten worse? Have they not changed?

Change in knowledge: do they feel like they know more about the world, their place in it, the people around them, etc? Not necessarily how to do things - just general information and awareness.

Change in social standing: how does others' regard for the character change over this part of their arc? Do people like them more or less? Are they respected more or less than before? Has nothing changed? And so on.

Change in skills and abilities: do they feel more skilled than they were before? Do they feel like they know how to do as many things as before? Again - not necessarily rooted in reality - a classic example of a character being wrong about this is a 'big fish in a small pond' character who used to be the high school sports star going to college on a sports scholarship and discovering they're not the best any more, and suddenly feeling like they're the worst - when they're better than they've ever been in an objective light. Use a subjective viewpoint for this.

Change in agency in life: how does the character's percieved agency change? Do their decisions matter less now than ever? Do their actions make way more happen than before? (See: no agency in action vs decisions are huge)

Change in outlook: Here's the upper/downer part. Are they more or less hopeful for the future? Do they think things are more terrible now? Are things improving as far as they're concerned? Or has that not changed?

Change in goal progress: how do they feel like they're progressing on the goals they've set for themself? Are they getting further and further away? Are they getting closer?

If some of this doesn't make sense and you want a clarification, you will have to tag me to get my attention, because I'm turning notifications for this post off the minute it leaves my immediate social circle.

Transparent version: (sorry you had to scroll so far)

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jjk fics

fushiguro megumi holding hands in the dark | fushiguro megumi ╰►some nights he talks in his sleep. you stay quiet, holding his hand in the dark…some nights you do just that; other nights you wake him, tell him that it’s going to be okay, that he’s going to be okay. some nights he rolls over, and pretends he isn’t wiping away tears. other nights, he believes you. but most nights, when he realizes that your hand is squeezing his, whether you’re awake or not, he squeezes back. 4.2k words

fushiguro toji weight | fushiguro toji ╰►toji carries a lot of weight on him: the weight of his job, the weight of fatherhood, the weight of his fears, the weight of his past, and the weight of himself—his flaws, his failures, his mere pitiful existence…but that weight seems to fall off, pound by agonizing pound, when he’s with you. 9.5k words

gojo satoru first fight | gojo satoru ╰►you and your boyfriend, gojo, never fight. it's like your whole schtick. you love each other sooooo much that nothing is ever important enough to argue over. sure, you get annoyed with each other, but you're both adults who love each other very, very much. nothing is worth jeopardizing your relationship over, and you're both perfectly capable of having mature conversations with one another. it drives his students crazy, how gojo pulled such a 10/10 and how you never fight, your relationship is just perfect. until it isn't. until you tell gojo the one thing he never thought you'd say, the last thing he ever wanted to hear from you. 3.8k words

nanami kento domesticated | nanami kento ╰►nanami was born to be a husband—measured, attentive, impossibly good with his hands—but more than that, he was born to be your husband. he keeps a bullet journal, folds your laundry with surgical precision, and makes you tea just the way you like it. and as sure as you are that he’s perfect, he’s still determined to prove it to you, every single day. 7.3k words saturdays | nanami kento ╰►your husband, nanami's, favorite day of the week is saturday, and therefore, your favorite day of the week is saturday. the stress of work is gone, and yet to come back. for 24 blessed hours, you are nothing and no one but his. (part two to domesticated). — COMING SOON

family man | nanami kento ╰►things between you and kento have been casual the past couple of months, at least that’s what you think. he’s been crushing on you for a lot longer than that. he just adores everything about you. all of your little quirks, the way you smile, how you style your hair…it’s all a wondrous kind of beauty to him. problem is, you’ve been keeping a secret. not necessarily on purpose, but now that it’s coming to light, you’re sure it will be nanami’s deal-breaker, that he’ll have no choice but to break up with you. 7.4k words

someone to come home to | nanami kento ╰►for the first time in a long time, nanami had started to imagine a future. something domestic, something soft. you, in his kitchen. your socks on his floor. it wasn’t a dream he spoke aloud, but he felt it growing roots. it’s not that nanami can’t survive without you—he’s survived many things. it’s that everything is worse. food doesn’t taste right. his bed is cold. the silence is heavier. but when you stir, when you lean into his touch even in sleep, he knows: things can be good again. not easy. not painless. but better. and he will do whatever it takes to keep you here, with him, where life still makes sense. 13.8k words

yuuji itadori penpal | yuuji itadori ╰►it's just one summer. but...it's not just one summer. it's a whole three months, thirteen weeks, away from you. he finally has you, and now he's gonna give you up. but he finds that being away from you, while miserable and lonely and awful, does have its appeals. like the lovely, heartfelt letters you write him, and the sweet, knowing packages you mail him. the facetime calls that go on for hours. missing you is awful, but it's a bittersweet kind of ache. one he feels thankful to have. 5.5k words — COMING SOON

cigarette drawing (top left) by rawpixel on pinterest