#mia method

[rigelmejo]

Mini rant about "learning through comprehensible input" and the many situations it's used to mean somewhat different things:

In traditional language learning, using classrooms and textbooks, grammar guides and flashcards: comprehensible input are the dialogues/paragraphs in your textbook that you get a vocabulary translation list for and grammar explanations for so you can comprehend it. It can also be tutoring sessions, where you talk with the tutor and they use translations and gestures and visuals to make sure you can understand them. Once you reach a decent level of understanding the language, comprehensible input becomes any regular material for native speakers you can understand the main idea of (or more). So if someone who took classes for years is telling you to immerse in materials for native speakers, they probably assume you have some prior knowledge about the language and can understand the materials for native speakers to a degree. If a teacher is recommending you immerse in the language, they probably mean to immerse with content that uses words/situations you've studied in class at some point. These people do NOT mean for a brand new beginner, who knows nothing, to just go sit and watch movies for adults in the target language and magically learn over time.

In Refold/Mass Immersion Approach community, online communities where the study method involves a lot of flashcards/anki/SRS/apps with vocabulary/making word or sentence lists with translations: when they say comprehensible input, they mean material you can understand the main idea of, with the help of looking up word translations and grammar! They usually expect you will at least look up some key words once in a while, or immerse with stuff that uses words you've recently studied (in anki). When they say "immerse a lot and often" sometimes they do mean to immerse with input you do NOT understand, but when they're saying to get mostly comprehensible input, they mean either stuff made for learners to be understandable OR you using tools like word translation to be able to understand the material. There are people who did try to immerse with input they did not understand (maybe because they didn't understand the advice to immerse in materials for native speakers), without looking up words or using any tools to help them understand, and thousands of hours later they still were beginners. The people who successfully have used anki and immersion to learn a language, usually mean using immersion material that you can comprehend the main idea of (with tools/aids if necessary like word translations or word definitions in the target language). Notice that for these learners, comprehensible input MAY NOT BE comprehensible if you're relying on ONLY what you already know, and may require TOOLS to be comprehensible. They're expecting you to USE TOOLS to make the input comprehensible! (Flashcards, definition lookups in target language, word translation lookups, grammar explanation lookups).

Comprehensible Input Method/Automatic Language Growth/Nature Method Learners: By comprehensible input, they mean only materials you can understand the main idea of (without needing tools/aids). This will initially be materials MADE FOR LEARNERS, like the Nature Method textbooks with illustrations to explain the meaning, and Comprehensible Input lessons on youtube where the teacher shows you pictures and uses gestures to communicate the main idea. Then the materials may be graded readers made with a vocabulary a learner is expected to know, and possibly a vocabulary list in the back. And podcasts for learners, that use a limited number of words they expect the learner to know and define new words. Eventually, this can mean cartoons for toddlers where the visuals about what is being said, in addition to the words you already know, makes the main idea understandable. Then eventually cartoons for older kids, and shows, novels for kids, and novels for adults, etc as you learn more words and understand more (without needing tools/aid). So the key here, is this kind of learner usually means MATERIALS you can understand without any tools! This is a huge difference from the Refold learners, who often mean comprehensible input as ANY input if you're using enough tools TO comprehend it.

ALL of these learners usually mean, by comprehensible input, materials you can understand the main idea of - with or without tools. If you cannot understand the main idea - use tools! If you can understand the main idea, cool, you comprehend it enough to learn from it! None of these learners are trying to suggest beginners trying to learn a target language just listen to adult radio in the TL for 2000 hours and somehow 'learn.' All of these learners think a beginner NEEDS either a lot of visuals to allow for understanding (comprehensible input lessons, nature method), so the learning aid is built INTO the materials initially. Or these learners think beginners NEED to use tools to make materials understandable (translations, dictionary entries, anki to memorize words, textbooks), to be able to learn from materials. In either case, the advice to use comprehensible input assumes you are comprehending the main idea being conveyed in the material, and if needed you're using additional tools/aids/resources to figure out the main idea being conveyed.

There's a guy on youtube who keeps making these videos about using input to learn japanese, and I overall agree with him. But he only mentions a few times he uses anki to study (so uses tools to understand more), and he learned a decent number of words before using audio-only as input to study with (so he could comprehend the main idea to a degree), and the impression I get from comments is that some people sincerely think he's saying to listen to regular japanese materials for adults for thousands of hours and that itself will be enough to learn. I don't think he necessarily makes it clear how much initially VISUAL input is better if someone is going to just watch materials in japanese, how much his explicit study with anki may be increasing what he can comprehend, and how much using materials-made-for-learners works better in the beginning (he does recommend learner podcasts like Nihongo Con Teppei and Learn Japanese with Shun). I think the guy's heart is in the right place, and he's got good advice. I just get frustrated with how MANY people are misunderstanding his advice. Especially beginners, who may think when he says immerse in content you only understand 10% of... he is assuming the beginner is looking up key words, and making new anki cards of words they're hearing to study more.

As a learner... please don't bash your head into content you don't understand the main idea of for hundreds of hours. I am begging you, do something like look for materials MADE FOR LEARNERS to be understandable (comprehensible input lessons, graded readers, textbooks, sentences with translations, dialogues, or even cartoons with clear visuals about what is going on), or USE SOME TOOLS to make things understandable to you! Please...

[maevashift]

I've been in the shifting since I was little

[rmbunnie]

I am alone on this barren earth (Jason Todd liker and Mia Dearden liker who honestly thinks issues 69-72 of the 2001 Green Arrow run are fun and good and would really like to talk about them beyond "Jason Todd was ooc and irredeemable there because he was trauma-dumping on Mia but also everything he said was fake and made up and he was manipulating her to become his sidekick and he blew up her school in retaliation because she didn't so really we should ignore the whole comic as bad writing /or agree he should just be read as an sadistic sidekick killer" (None of which is true and over half of which is directly stated to be false in the comic's text) but all people ever have to say about the comic is weird wrong takes about the three pages in which the gym fight happens ripped out of the very interesting and fun surrounding context)

[mostlyihyperfixate]

Hello, adopted teenage daughter. Please continue doing several jobs for me and being exposed to horrible people and dead bodies. PS Mentee that I invited to this shindig, I don't believe in you. <3 -- Some jerkass in a beanie, probably

[15-lizards]

I have GOT to get dyke-ier this year

[syn4k]

the mental gymnastics this man is currently engaging in to justify theft could win him a gold metal at the olympics

[elegantballetalk]

I know this might be a year too late and everyone is getting tired of it, but what do you think about Bolshoi's 2023 girls (Maria Koshkareva, Sofya Valiullina, Yaroslavna Kuprina, Taisia Konovalova, Polina Netsvetaeva-Dolgalyova), especially after 1.5 year? My personal favourite is Sofya, I always find her dancing enjoyable to watch. Sometimes I'm sad that it seems like she's the only one who's being left behind among those five, like the four others are debuting major (and even leading) roles one after another, but Sofya gets much less and it's mostly minor soloist roles. On the other hand, I'm relieved that it's actually better for her growth artistically, but still... I wonder if she will ever get major/leading roles someday :")

It’s not too late—never is. Actually, I think following a dancer for many years makes it more and more exciting.

Maria Koshkareva, Sofya Valiullina, and Yaroslavna Kuprina are all really good dancers, and one must consider the difficulties of moving to a new city and getting used to company life, which must be especially tough in a place like the Bolshoi.

Maria and Sofya are really good friends; they have been in class together since their first year at Vaganova, and they continue to be friends now, so at least they have that. Last season, they danced the Swan Lake Pas de Trois many times together, and I always found it very nice. But look how visible their style differences are! They both danced the Orange Fairy in Sleeping Beauty, but they looked so different—not in a bad way, just stylistically. They are completely different types of dancers, even though they’ve been trained together since they were about 10ish.

Yaroslavna Kuprina suffered a serious injury almost at the beginning of last year’s season, but this year she started with a bang, debuting as Aurora. I wish we were in managements head to see why they were like: ah yes, let's have this young girl debut aurora randomly at the start of what basically is her first season. I would love to know hwat goes on behind the scenes. But here is a video on YouTube from last year of her and Sofya dancing the Three Swans from Swan Lake, which you might find interesting.

So my opinions:

Maria Koshkareva: She is the "favored" one. Now we can only guess why—maybe it's her attitude, personality, luck, or her association with Kovaleva/Tsiskaridze. Who knows? Perhaps they see something in her, perceive in her a spark of something rare, something worth cultivating. Or maybe, since she won that competition and has gained a bit of a following, they think that if they push her, she could become a future star. For a theater, having these "famous" dancers offers prestige and helps sell tickets, especially on tour. And one can only become a famous dancer if the theater actively markets you that way—by giving you major roles, high-profile performances, and constant visibility. This is likely why they keep casting her in significant roles, even if it might be better to wait a few years before giving her such pressure. The theater seems to be fast-tracking her career, not necessarily because she’s ready, but because they believe they can shape her into a star if they position her as one early on.

Regarding her dancing: I don't really know how to explain this, but she's so Russian and so Bolshoi. Her dancing is so Russian; it almost gives you a feel of how dancers used to dance in the past—bold and free, compromising technique to make you feel something (while simultaneously, obviously, having so much technique that they can afford to command the stage as they wish). I think she has that freedom to give her star quality. But sometimes I don’t love her facial expressions on stage, but that’s just my personal opinion.

What I do admire, without question, is the way she doth grace her movements with the cambre—that deep, arching of the back. Oh, Maria, thou art a master of the cambre! It doth add such elegance and beauty to her already magnificent dancing. More cambres, please!

In general watching her is not relaxing for me, like she doesn't give the lyricism that I so often crave when watching ballet. BUT:

I really, really, really liked her as Angela in Marco Spada. I think she was full of energy, and especially considering it was a debut, I think it was really good.

Same thing with Kitri: I really enjoyed it. There was a youthful exuberance in her portrayal, and the spirit of the character was conveyed with great veracity.

I also really liked her dancing as Juliette's friend at the Mariinsky. I thought her lines looked beautiful.

She did one of the fairies a few times in Sleeping Beauty as well. I liked it—nothing stood out in a good or bad way.

Gamzatti: I think her Italian fouettés are really cool, but her regular fouettés... less so? They don’t look easy on her... they seemed somewhat laboured.

Princess Masha: Her elegance and grace suited the role well, and I was pleased with what I saw.

She obviously did more roles, like Swanilda, but no opinions on her in these or other roles come to mind. She also did diamonds, but I can't remember if i saw anyhting.

I also hope she improves her pas de deux, but I don’t think it’s her fault. I do not fault her; nor her partner, its just that this is a skill that comes with time and experience. For example, at minute 1:46:04, you can see Maria and her partner getting coached, but Maria's very young coach can barely get a word in. P.S. At the start of this video, you can see Maria and Sofya in class together, and gravitating toward each other when it’s time to do center. There is something most endearing about this quiet camaraderie.

Sofya Valiullina is also amongst my favourites, I must confess. She has a soft soft in my heart, or because also I feel this fear for her not being valued enough, I fear shadows might cloud her, but she's bright! I love her so, perhaps it is because she appears so happy and assured in her dancing, always carrying herself with an air of capability. There is not a trace of frailty in her; indeed, she exudes classical grace in every movement! I find her work thoroughly enjoyable, and her musicality particularly striking. Oddly enough—and I must admit, it does seem strange—I would pay a considerable sum for her hair colour. Ordinarily, I would say that brunette or black locks suit ballerinas best, yet she is the exception to this rule.

In truth, I do not believe she lags behind the others in any sense. While she may not have been entrusted with roles as grand as Aurora or Kitri, she is frequently on stage, constantly honing her craft, and always looks splendid in whatever part she performs. This is not to say she has been without her own share of significant roles—far from it, especially this season. She has danced numerous solos for opera performances, and I must say, the videos she has posted are filled with such energy; I have watched them on several occasions.

Her recent debut as the Spanish Bride in Swan Lake was remarkably strong, and her portrayal of Naina’s Magical Garden was most enchanting. Her jumps are magnificent, her ballon sublime, though I do wish her arms were occasionally a touch more fluid.

I noticed she is slated to perform as Countess Cherry in Cipollino on December 6—how delightful! I shall be most curious to see how that unfolds.

And let us not forget: when we wonder why certain artists are not appearing as frequently, it does not always imply they have fallen out of favour. Perhaps they are engaged in rigorous rehearsals for something new, recovering from a minor injury, or simply not posting updates. Often, we are left in the dark.

I know it sounds rather peculiar, but I do follow Sofya’s and Maria’s physiotherapist on Instagram (@gasoarovalex). From time to time, he shares performances of Sofya’s that she herself does not. Were I not following him, I would never have been the wiser! In fact, I also follow her mother on the platform—though I admit, that may be slightly odd. But what else is a person to do when they are far from Russia, unable to speak the language, and unable to witness the performances in person? Insider information is a precious commodity.

Was it not last year that Sofya made her debut as Myrtha, as well as in Chopiniana? I do not remember the details with perfect clarity, but the recollection is a pleasant one. I believe she also danced two parts in The Nutcracker, the Waltz and Spanish Doll, though I have yet to see any footage of those performances, and so I cannot offer an opinion.

But don't you worry. Sofia's career is already more active than many other corp members. She's not "buried" in the corps. Truth is that careers in the theatre are slow, it's the fast tracking careers that are the anomaly. Sofia is already doing much more in her second season than others in their fifth or season! Take Svetlana Savelieva as an example. She's been at the mariinsky since 2019, and only yesterday promoted to Coryphee, even though Savelieva has an enormous, romantic like, talent. But things go like this, sometimes they are unfair, or management thinks that mentally or physically the dancer is not "ready" yet. And except for Kuprina's random Aurora (which she only performed once) its not like Kuprina has had much different roles than Valiullina.

As for Yaroslavna Kuprina—oh, how she was criticised and trashed she was for her debut as Aurora! But I, for one, found it perfectly acceptable, mediocre, I would say... fine. Not a performance to be remembered for its brilliance, certainly, but neither was it a disaster. It was simply... fine. I did find it very random that she went from having an injury to literally having Aurora be her comeback moment, but good for her. Personally, I'm less familiar with her—she seems to be more private. I wish I could see her Vaganova exam to get more of feeling of her technical capabilities in the studio. (If anyone should have a link, do send it my way!) If one were to peruse the playbill, one would often see her name listed for soloist roles or smaller parts, though she posts very little, and thus I am left with no footage unless a fellow theatre-goer kindly shares a recording. I think she debuted Gamzatti? Never saw it.

I must say, however, I did quite enjoy her portrayal of Juliet’s friend. She has such beautiful lines. Her arabesque and attitude are simply exquisite, and her port de bras—those graceful arms, wrists, and fingers—are nothing short of sublime. Yet, I do feel her expression sometimes betrays her; there are moments when she looks as though she is in some discomfort, she looks like she's in pain.

Now, I must admit to being unfamiliar with Taisia Konovalova and Polina Netsvetaeva-Dolgalyova, as I do not pay much heed to the students of the Bolshoi. My apologies! However, I do follow one particular 2024 graduate from the Bolshoi, Darina Moseeva, who has extraordinary jumps and legs. She was due to debut as Gamzatti, but unfortunately, for reasons of health, she didn't. A curious tidbit: Darina Moseeva was once a student at the Eifman Academy, same class of Yesenia Anushenkova, the 2023 trainee with Mariinsky who has since graduated from Eifman in 2024 and is now a coryphée at Mariinsky alongside Alisa Barinova.

One can’t help but be intrigued by the journey of Kamila Sultangareeva, a graduate of the BBA. Her departure from Vaganova in 2023 stirred quite a bit of drama, and so I am most curious to see what she makes of her career. So far, however, it seems she has been largely inactive, though she is listed in the Bolshoi corps.

I’m also interested in following Elisabetta Nallin (italian) and Maria Mia Zakota’s journeys at the Bolshoi. They are Vaganova 2024 grads, and the two girls are also really good friends in real life. So far, they’ve had a lot of roles and have shared the stage numerous times. Cute.

[planet4546b]

i do still constantly think about the first time maya sees mia when pearl is channeling her too btw. like jesus fuck the tragedy of your sister you love is haunting you and haunting the world Through you but you never get to see her. jesus fucking christ. i need to lie down

[t-oastbread]

Mia: is that a gun in your pocket or are you happy to see me?

Kramer: I'm just happy to see you.

Mia: god I wish it was a gun

[littlewritingrabbit]

Blue Eye Samurai is just Dark Mamma Mia

[chainsandcherries]

shoutout to retailers for jacking up the price of Alien on blu-ray because Romulus got oscar nominated

and by shoutout i mean fuck you >:(

[etherealising]

not me doing an exercise on copyright infringement while actively infringing the copyright of my textbook.

[ins4nebxtch]

ultimate IT girl guide

a guide to looking effortlessly perfect

"You’ve got the false narrative of a girl who spends 30 seconds on her appearance, when, in fact, you probably spent hours.”

1. basic hygiene:

having clean teeth and good breath

smelling good 24/7. i highly recommend finding a signature scent as a scent is associated with memory, id suggest something sweet yet not too overpowering like vanilla.

being clean in general. regularly shaving and exfoliating your skin to get rid of bodily hair and dirt that accumulates on your skin to make your skin glow.

clean nails. having clean and maintained nails (with a simple design if you wish) looks better than having acrylics that are wayyy too long and appear tacky.

2. hair :

having smooth healthy hair looks much better than dry and damaged hair. take care of your hair by finding the best products for your natural hair. get rid of your split ends as they make the hair appear really damaged.

in my opinion, loose waves look the most effortless yet pretty. but don’t ruin your natural hair by applying too much heat! you can try heatless styling methods to achieve this look.

3. diet and exercise :

being toned is the way to go to fit this aesthetic

avoid oily foods or sugary foods that damage your skin. don’t completely get rid of these as we all have our cravings, but try your best to avoid it

find a workout plan that works best for you, keeps you healthy but doesn’t burn you out! moreover exercise releases endorphins that improve your mood.

4. makeup and skin care :

natural makeup on clear skin fits this effortless aesthetic perfectly!

take care of your skin by finding a routine that fits you the best, consult with a dermatologist for the best results.

having smooth, blended makeup creates an illusion that you aren’t wearing any at all! this appears much effortless than a full face. also try to avoid those really huge false lashes that make you look tacky.

maintain your eyebrows and find a shape that fits you best!

5. outfits :

having a signature style which suits your body type is essential. experiment until you can find what suits you best! you can use a body analysis app for this.

wearing outfits you’re confident in, hot but not too revealing goes a long way. confidence is key. wearing overly revealing clothing might seem like one is trying too hard, but if you can carry it with confidence then that’s great!

jewellery : having dainty, signature pieces is key! find out which suits you better (gold or silver) through an ai analysis and invest in timeless pieces. personally, i think minimalistic pieces such as solitaires, simple pendants, classic hoops etc. look much more effortless.

6. personality :

don’t be too judgemental towards anyone as you don’t know what they’re going through and this makes you seem unapproachable

don’t talk too much or overshare! this creates a mysterious aura which draws people to you more

confidence is key! posture is very important too, carry yourself with confidence and walk with your head held up high.

7. examples and references :

serena van der woodsen (gossip girl)

mia thermopolis (the princess diaries)

cher (clueless)

elle woods (legally blonde)

rory gilmore (gilmore girls)

robin scherbatsky (how i met your mother)

gigi hadid

[jungkoode]

𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 | 21

˗ˏˋ birthday shots ˎˊ˗

"Jungkook’s friends, Jungkook’s birthday party… It’s all honestly not what you expected. But then again, Jungkook keeps twisting your expectations of him, once and once again."

next | index

⋆｡°✩ chapter details ✩°｡⋆

word count: 8,4k

content: jungkook having friends, feeling out of place, pretty girls, judgemental people, tae/hobi/jk protecting the peace, shared secrets, nicknames gaining an intimate layer, stubbornness with spicy food, drinking, doing shots and jungkook being both attentive and protective.

✧ author's note ✧

Aaaand we’re finally here. The party. The build-up. The chaos potential. The birthday. After 20 chapters of yearning, character dissection, awkward eye contact, and conversations that say everything and nothing at the same time… we are officially entering the next arc: actual real-world social interaction. Which, if you’ve been paying attention, is every character’s personal hell. Including mine.

First of all—yes, this is Jungkook’s party chapter. Yes, it’s a pivotal one. Yes, I was pacing around my flat in a hoodie muttering “okay but what would he wear” like a deranged method actor trying to get into character. And yes, there are about 15 new people here. But please don’t panic. You don’t need to memorize them all. This isn’t a fantasy war council. You’re not about to be quizzed on the name of Jungkook’s friend’s cousin’s dog. They’re not here to steal the plot—they’re here to color it.

Jungkook’s different social groups, clashing and blending like some unhinged Venn diagram of his life. They each say something about him and the many versions of himself he keeps—because, as always, this isn’t about the party. It’s about him and her, and us, and the very inconvenient reality of human attachment.

Now. Tessa (and yes, Toasty, when you read this… the name comes 100% from you hahaha).

Yup. That girl from the library. She’s here. She’s breathing. She’s talking. And she’s not a villain.

I know, I know, fanfiction is riddled with the evil-rival-love-interest trope. The girl who eyes you up and down with thinly veiled contempt. The passive aggressive bitch who “just happens” to sit on his lap or call him baby in front of you. The girl whose entire personality is “threat to the main couple.” And listen—I could never.

Tessa isn’t like that. Because most people aren’t like that. Attraction doesn’t automatically equal competition, and not every woman who talks to a man you like is an enemy. That’s such a tired, flat, boring cliche. I’m not writing this story to project misogynistic tropes onto women so we can feel smug about someone else being “the wrong one.” I don’t want you to root against her. I don’t want you to root against anyone, really. Maybe Mia, but that’s what she’s for. She’s your pressure valve. You need someone to hate. That’s what makes the rest bearable.

Tessa’s presence is not a betrayal. It’s just reality. Jungkook is allowed to be liked. He’s allowed to explore. And so is Nix. She’s not some pushover sainted martyr of “true love.” She’s a girl. She’s confused. She’s a little guarded. She’s still trying to understand herself.

There’s no jealousy because there is no claim. There’s no relationship, no commitment, no confessions, no secret “we’re basically already in love” subtext. There’s just this slow, painful, glacial slide into a kind of closeness that might one day become something else—but hasn’t. Not even close. This chapter is about a possible beginning of something resembling tentative friendship. We are barely out of enemies-to-mildly-tolerating-each-other zone. We are in the “do I text you or is that weird” era.

Don’t rush it. Don’t expect it. That’s not the story I’m telling.

Nix being unbothered isn’t character growth. It’s just honesty. It’s consistency. I’ve spent 20 chapters building a girl who’s emotionally guarded, private, and painfully aware of the dynamics she allows herself to engage in. She’s not “cool with it” to be cool—she’s just not invested like that yet. And that matters. We’re not jumping stages for drama. We’re walking, slowly, through the psychology of two people who don’t even know what they want. Let them be confused. Let them be messy. Let them take their time.

I’m writing slow burn with psychological realism at its core, and that means actions have context. If you came here expecting love confessions and possessive meltdowns and “he’s mine stay away” drama… wrong story, babes. I want you uncomfortable. I want you squinting at every interaction wondering if it means something. I want you to question how affection develops, really. Slowly. Subtly. Almost invisibly, until it’s all you can think about.

The story isn’t about dramatic betrayals or Big Plot Twists. It’s about tension. About two people orbiting each other in their own broken, stumbling ways. It’s about glances that last too long and words that don’t come out right and the way your heart knows something long before your brain does. It’s about patterns, and Jungkook’s are catching up to him.

You don’t need to like everyone. But you should understand them. And that’s what I’m asking of you here. Because these characters aren’t plot devices—they’re real to me. They’re studies. They’re messy. And god, I love them for it.

So yeah. Welcome to the party. The masks are on, the music’s loud, and no one knows how to behave when they’re being watched. Especially him.

Enjoy. Suffer. Stare at the page like you’re decoding a sacred text. That’s the vibe.

And as always…

You’re here to suffer. I’m here to deliver.

You’re welcome.

⋆｡°✩ read on✩°｡⋆

ao3

wattpad

You never realized a person could contain so many versions of themselves until you saw Jungkook surrounded by his friends.

"SURPRISE!"

The word explodes through the small ramen shop, followed by cheers and laughter as Jungkook freezes beside you. 

His fingers quickly pocket his phone, eyes widening with a genuine shock that transforms his entire face. 

Gone is the perpetually amused, slightly condescending roommate you've come to know. In his place stands someone younger, almost innocent—lips parting in stunned delight, eyes crinkling at the corners.

It's fucking weird is what it is.

"Holy shit," he breathes, a laugh bursting from him as Taehyung launches himself across the restaurant, wrapping Jungkook in a hug that nearly knocks him over. "What the fuck?"

Hobi follows immediately, bouncing on his feet like an overgrown puppy before throwing his arms around both of them, turning the duo into a chaotic tangle of limbs and laughter. 

Even Yoongi gets up, offering a slow clap before joining with a more restrained but no less genuine embrace—the kind with back pats that guys do when they want to prove they have exactly two emotions: hungry and sports.

You hang back, suddenly aware of how many strangers are packed into this place. 

The restaurant is full of people—at least a dozen beyond the ones you recognize—all focused on Jungkook with varying degrees of excitement. Some are already raising drinks in toast, others taking photos, a couple shouting things you can't quite make out over the general chaos.

"P-Kill! Happy birthday, man!"

"Proofs! You made it!"

"Proofy, get over here!"

What the actual fuck are these names? 

You frown, trying to connect these bizarre nicknames to the Jungkook you know—the one who leaves his dirty dishes in the sink and plays his music too loud and once tried to convince you that Kraft mac and cheese was "technically gourmet."

None of this computes.

Jungkook catches your confusion as he disentangles himself from his friends, eyes flicking toward you with that familiar half-smile that somehow feels like a private joke.

"Hey," he says, suddenly at your side again. His hand brushes your elbow briefly—not grabbing, just a light touch that seems oddly grounding in this chaos. "These are my friends. Guys, this is my roommate."

He says your name easily, no ‘Phoenix’ or ‘Nix’ in sight, and it's weirdly jarring—like hearing a song you know played in the wrong key. 

Not technically wrong, just... off.

The next few minutes are a blur of names and faces, most immediately forgotten as you try to keep track of who's who in this bizarre alternative universe where Jungkook is apparently the center of a large social circle. There's a group of guys—gamers, apparently—who keep calling him those weird nicknames.

"These three idiots," Jungkook explains, gesturing toward a trio of guys who look like they haven't seen sunlight in months, "are my Steam friends. My username is ProofedToKill, so that's where all the dumb nicknames come from."

Of course, that tracks. He's always yelling at the TV when he plays Call of Duty in the living room. You've had multiple arguments about it, usually ending with him putting on headphones and you turning up your music out of spite.

"Don't start," he warns, but there's no real edge to it. "I've already heard all your anti-shooters propaganda."

"It's not propaganda if it's true."

He rolls his eyes but doesn't take the bait, already being pulled toward another group by Taehyung. 

"Come on, there are more people you should meet."

You follow, because what else are you going to do? Stand alone by the door like some kind of abandoned pet? 

Besides, you're curious now. Curious about these other fragments of Jungkook's life that you've never been privy to before.

The space is packed, noisy in that way that forces everyone to talk slightly too loud. Sensory overload city. People keep touching Jungkook—hugs, shoulder claps, high fives—and he's letting them, which might be the weirdest part of all this. 

Since when does he like being touched by people who aren't naked?

"Jungkook!" a female voice exclaims, cutting through the noise. A tall girl with auburn hair moves toward him with the confident grace of someone who's never tripped over her own feet in public. "Happy birthday!"

She wraps him in a hug that makes you realize just how tall she is—like, almost his height tall—and beside her, another girl—smaller, with short black hair and glasses—offers a more reserved greeting.

"Hey Tessa, hey Diana," Jungkook says, looking genuinely pleased to see them. "Didn't think you'd be here!"

Tessa. 

The library girl. The one he was doing that group project thing with.  The one who kept laughing too loud whenever Jungkook said something that probably wasn't even that funny.

"Taehyung invited us," she explains, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Hope that's okay."

"Of course it's okay," Jungkook says, and you hate how sincere he sounds. 

Where's the sarcastic asshole you live with? Who is this pod person?

"We brought you something," Diana says, holding out a small bag. "Just a little thing."

Jungkook accepts it with a thanks that sounds almost shy, and what the fuck? Since when is he shy about anything?

"Oh, this is my roommate," he adds, suddenly remembering your existence. 

He says your name again, and you force a smile because what else can you do in this bizarre social ritual?

"Nice to meet you," Tessa says with a warmth that feels genuine, which is almost worse than if she'd been fake. At least fake would make sense. "Jungkook's mentioned you before. You're in English Lit, right?"

He's talked about you? To her? 

What the fuck has he said?

"Yeah," you manage, because apparently your vocabulary has been reduced to monosyllables in the face of all this unexpected social interaction. "English major."

"That's amazing," she says, and she actually seems to mean it. "I'm in Film too, but I've always loved literature. What's your focus?"

Before you can answer—thank god, because you haven't prepared a thesis statement on your academic interests for a birthday party—Hobi appears with a tray of shots, announcing that it's time for the birthday boy to start celebrating properly.

So, of course, the whole crowd moves towards him, shots being thrown back easily. You find yourself suddenly on the outside of it, still standing with Tessa and Diana but no longer the focus of their attention.

It's a relief, honestly. 

You've never been good at this kind of thing—large groups, small talk, unfamiliar social dynamics. 

It's like being dropped into a play where everyone else knows the script and you're just… improvising. Kinda hoping you don't accidentally say the wrong line and reveal yourself as the impostor.

Your eyes wander around the restaurant, taking in the details you missed—it’s actually a cozy place, warm wood and soft lighting, with private booths along one wall and a long table down the center where most of Jungkook's friends have gathered. 

You can smell the sizzling of pans working through different ingredients—garlic, onion, ginger… But your eyes end up on Jungkook anyway.

He swallows down a shot, grimacing at the burn. 

Someone passes him another. 

Someone else claps him on the back. 

He's at the center of all this attention and he's... thriving in it. Laughing, talking.

It’s strange, seeing him like this. So carefree, so loud (although he’s always loud but this is a different kind of loud?)—so in his… element. 

You can’t help but feel out of place.

Because, truly. Do you even fit in here? Are you an element? Part of his element? Or whatever this is? 

This morning you were agonizing over whether you could be friends with the guy you've been fucking. 

Now you're standing in a room full of people who already are his friends, who've known him much longer than you have, who see a completely different side of him than the one you get.

It's... a lot.

You pull out your phone, needing something to do with your hands, but the screen stays dark. Okay. Dead. Fantastic.

"You okay?"

The voice at your elbow makes you jump. 

It's Jungkook, somehow back at your side despite the crowd still demanding his attention.

"Fine," you say automatically. "Just... observing."

His eyes scan your face, more perceptive than you'd like. "You look like you'd rather be literally anywhere else."

"Not true. I can think of at least three places that would be worse." You tick them off on your fingers. "The DMV. An insurance seminar. Dinner with my parents."

That gets a laugh out of him—a real one, one you seem to be getting out of him more and more often. 

“Fair enough. Come on, let me get you a drink. It'll help with..." 

He pauses, purses his lips as he tilts his head at you.

"With what, exactly?"

"The whole 'I'd rather eat glass than make small talk with strangers' vibe you're giving off."

"I'm not—" you start to protest, but he's already pulling you toward the bar, his hand warm against your lower back.

"It's fine, Phee," he says, the familiar nickname slipping out naturally now that you're momentarily separated from the crowd. "Not everyone's into the whole big social scene. You don't have to pretend."

You want to argue on principle—deny that he knows you that well, that he can read your discomfort so easily—but it would be pointless. 

He's right. 

You do hate this. 

And the fact that he noticed, that he came back to check on you instead of just leaving you to flounder on your own...

It's annoying. Or it should be. 

Instead, it feels weirdly considerate.

"I don't need a babysitter," you mutter as he flags down the bartender. "Go enjoy your party. I'm perfectly capable of standing in a corner judging people on my own."

"Maybe I'm enjoying my party more over here." 

He orders something you don't catch, then turns back to you with that half-smile that's somehow more familiar than the broad grin he's been flashing at everyone else.

“Besides, if I leave you alone too long, you might decide to ditch, and then who would I blame when I need an excuse to escape Hobi's karaoke demands?"

"Yoongi seems like a good scapegoat."

"Nah, Yoongi secretly loves karaoke. Just pretends to hate it so people will beg him. It's weird."

The bartender slides two glasses toward Jungkook—whiskey is one, by the look of it. 

The other one is… 

Vodka cranberry.

He remembers?

You lick your lips. Nervous suddenly. Maybe. Or not really. Just uncomfortable, because here it is again. Jungkook being attentive, doing these stupid kind things that completely shatter the reputation you have built for him in your head. 

"You really don't have to babysit me," you say again, but you take the drink anyway. "I'm fine."

His eyes search yours, more serious than usual. "I know you're fine. Maybe I just want to hang out with you."

Something shifts in your chest—a small, uncomfortable flutter. 

“Why? You have a dozen other people here who actually like you."

"Ouch." He presses a hand to his heart, mock wounded. "And here I thought we were making progress on the whole friendship thing."

"The jury's still out on that one."

"Uh-huh." He takes a sip of his whiskey, eyes never leaving yours. "Well, consider this evidence for the 'pro' column: I noticed you were uncomfortable and came to rescue you instead of letting you suffer in silence."

"Maybe I prefer suffering in silence."

"No one prefers suffering in silence, Nix. Some people just don't think they deserve better."

The way he says it makes something twirl uncomfortable inside your chest.

You take a large drink instead of responding, welcoming the burn as it slides down your throat.

“Make sure to finish that quickly. Get ready for the party games.”

"There are going to be party games?"

"That’s only the beginning."

"So," you say, swaying your glass slightly, watching the burgundy liquid catch the light, "ProofedToKill, huh? Didn't know I was living with such a badass."

"No? I thought you knew how badass I am.”

“You’re bad, and an ass. That doesn’t make you a badass. Different word.”

He laughs, low and warm, and you can’t help the smile that forms on your lips without conscious input.

"You know what it actually means?" he asks, leaning back against the wall. 

You raise an eyebrow. "That you're secretly a hitman with terrible grammar?"

"Hilarious." He rolls his eyes, but there's no real irritation behind it. "It's a baking term, actually."

"A what now?"

"Baking. You know, that thing people do with flour and heat instead of burning the place down.”

“If you bring up the candle incident one more time—”

He makes a zipping motion over his mouth, and your lips twitch with the effort of chuckling. 

“Wait, are you seriously telling me your super tough gamer name is about... baking?"

He sighs, looking down at his glass. "When you're making bread—sourdough specifically—there's this stage called 'proofing.’ It's when the dough rises, develops flavor. If you overproof it, it collapses. If you underproof, it's dense. But if you get it just right..."

"You've... proofed to kill?" you finish, unable to keep the disbelief from your voice.

"Exactly." He grins, clearly pleased that you've made the connection. "Perfect proofing. Killer bread. It's a whole thing."

You stare at him, genuinely speechless for perhaps the first time since you've known him. 

This man—this infuriating, cocky roommate who struts around like he owns every room he enters—has a gamer tag based on fucking bread-making. 

And he's admitting it. 

Voluntarily. 

"So let me get this straight," you say slowly. "Your badass online persona, the one all your friends call you by, is actually a baking pun?"

"In my defense, it's a really good pun. And most people assume it's about, you know, being good at shooting things. Which I also am." He shrugs, cockiness slipping back into place.

“You’re so weird,” you mutter, but you know he doesn’t take it seriously.

"Been doing it since college. The whole sourdough thing at midnight." He confesses, glancing around briefly, like he's checking to make sure no one else is listening, then lowers his voice. "My mom taught me. She had this whole recipe she'd developed over years, this perfect sourdough method. Made the best bread you've ever tasted."

Again that softness, almost reverence when he speaks about his mom. 

It always catches you off guard. You've never heard him talk like this before. Never heard him talk about his family at all, really.

"After she..." he continues, then stops himself, shaking his head slightly. "Anyway. I keep trying to recreate it. Haven't quite nailed it yet."

Neither of you speak for a couple of beats. His gaze is still fixed on his drink, and then he takes a sip, like his mind is somewhere else completely.

“Is that why you stress-bake at 3 AM? Trying to get the proof right?"

His eyes meet yours, surprised.

Maybe a little grateful for the redirect. 

“You’ve noticed?”

“I mean, I just went to the bathroom one night and saw you fighting the dough, so…”

He chuckles, gaze back on his glass. “Yeah. It's... meditative, I guess. Helps me think."

"Weird way to think, but okay."

"Says the person who reads the same depressing Kafka story fourteen times and calls it 'processing.'"

"It's a good story."

"It's about a guy turning into a giant bug."

"And it speaks to the alienation inherent in modern existence. Your point?"

He laughs again, shaking his head. "God, you're such a fucking English major."

"And you're a secret bread nerd. We all have our crosses to bear."

His smile shifts into something different—softer around the edges, almost vulnerable. "Don't tell anyone, okay? About the username thing. I have a reputation to maintain."

"What, you mean your friends don't know your tough gamer handle is actually about your sourdough obsession?"

"Only Yoongi knows. And now you." He drums his fingers on the glass once, twice. "That's enough oversharing on my part for the day, I think. Sooner or later it's going to have to be your turn, you know, Pyx?"

Great. A new variation of your nickname. Does he ever stop coming up with them?

"My turn for what?"

"Sharing something real." His eyes hold yours, steady. "Friendship goes both ways, Nix."

You scoff, ignoring the way your heart rate picks up slightly. "I share things."

"Like what? Your coffee order doesn't count."

"I told you about the IUD."

"That's medical, not personal."

"It's literally inside my body. How much more personal can it get?"

He sighs, but he makes it dramatic this time. "You know what I mean. Something that matters to you. Something real."

You do know. That's the problem. He's asking for exactly the kind of vulnerability you've spent years carefully avoiding. The kind that gives people ammunition, that creates expectations, that leads to disappointment when you inevitably fail to meet them.

But he just told you about his mom. About bread and baking and usernames that mean more than they appear to. He offered something real—small, maybe, but genuine.

And isn't that what this whole friendship experiment is supposed to be about?

You open your mouth, not entirely sure what's going to come out, when a crash from across the restaurant saves you. Hobi has somehow managed to knock over an entire tray of drinks, and the resulting chaos immediately draws everyone's attention, including Jungkook's.

"Shit," he mutters, already half-moving. "I should go help before he makes it worse."

"Go," you nod, equal parts relieved and strangely disappointed. "Your public needs you."

He hesitates, eyes still on yours. "We're not done with this conversation."

"Pretty sure we are."

"Pretty sure we're just getting started." He stands fully, but doesn't leave immediately. "Come join, okay? Whenever you’re ready.”

You watch him weave through the crowd toward the spill, already calling out something to Hobi that makes the other man laugh despite the mess. It's strange, seeing him like this—in his element, surrounded by people who know him in ways you don't.

ProofedToKill. A baking pun turned gamer tag. A piece of his mother he carries with him, encrypted in plain sight.

You take another sip of your vodka cranberry, wondering what else about Jungkook you've been missing all this time.

Eleven people crammed around a table is basically psychological warfare in restaurant form.

You're somehow stuck directly across from Jungkook, because apparently the universe has a shitty sense of humor. 

Next to him, Tessa has claimed her territory, her long legs perfectly positioned under the table while yours are already cramping from the weird angle. Of course.

At least you've got Yoongi on your left—a silent, grounding presence in the chaos. When you'd awkwardly hovered near his chair, he'd just grunted and shifted slightly to make room. 

In Yoongi-speak, that's practically a formal invitation with calligraphy and shit.

Diana sits on your other side, petite and prim, her small hands already arranging her napkin with quick movements. She keeps glancing at Tessa across the table with an expression you can't quite decipher—somewhere between admiration and mild disapproval.

The menu in Yoongi's hands looks worn and slightly sticky, but your stomach is basically staging a revolt after hours of nothing but ibuprofen and vodka. You lean over, scanning the options without asking permission because fuck it, you're hungry.

The spicy ramen section catches your eye immediately. 

Your stomach gives another impatient growl.

"I want those," you announce, pointing at the spiciest option on the menu.

Yoongi barely blinks. "Cool. I didn't ask."

You roll your eyes and lean back in your chair because, okay, whatever. Rude ass. Though honestly, there's something almost refreshing about his complete lack of social polish. 

At least you always know where you stand with him, which is approximately nowhere.

A movement across the table draws your attention. 

Jungkook's eyes have lifted from his own menu, catching yours with an intensity that feels weirdly intimate in the crowded space. His gaze flickers down again almost immediately, but not before you notice the corner of his mouth tilting upward.

What's he laughing about? Stupid. He's stupid.

"I kinda wanted the spicy ones too," he says, looking up again. "Maybe we can share?"

You squint at him suspiciously. "Huh? No. I want the bowl entirely for me."

Diana makes a soft sound beside you—half laugh, half disbelief. 

“I can't believe you can eat all that."

The words hang there for a moment while your brain processes the judgment packaged in her innocent-sounding comment. 

Did she just really—

"C'mon Diana," Tessa cuts in swiftly, laugh warm and genuine, "not everyone has a small stomach like you."

Diana scowls, her delicate features pinching together. "I just think that's a lot to eat."

"Bro, I could eat two bowls in one sitting," Jungkook says.

"Make that three," Taehyung adds from Jungkook's other side. "You're a fucking goblin, Kooks."

"Three? Amateur," one of the gamer guys—Steve? Sean?—chimes in from the end of the table. "Remember that time after the tournament when you ate four bowls of ramen and then threw up in my car?"

"That was food poisoning," Jungkook protests. "Totally different situation."

"Your face was poisoned."

"What does that even mean?"

"Your face... poisoned... my eyes," the guy finishes lamely, clearly losing his train of thought.

"Ten points from Slytherin for that weak-ass comeback," Hobi declares, raising his beer like a wizard's wand. "Jungkook requires better trash talk in his honor."

"Oh shit, we're using Hogwarts points now?" another one asks. "When did we switch systems?"

"Since I just decided, and I'm the dungeon master."

"That's D&D, you uncultured swine," Taehyung sighs, long-suffering. "Completely different franchise."

"Whatever, they're all just wizard nerds," Hobi says with a dismissive wave.

"That's wizard king to you, peasant," Jungkook corrects, puffing out his chest.

“Do you all... actually play these games?" Diana asks, voice faintly disdainful.

"Only when we're not busy with our super cool and important adult lives," Taehyung says, deadpan.

"I just don't get the appeal," she sniffs. "Sitting inside all day, staring at screens—"

"Yo," Hobi cuts in smoothly, somehow managing to sound both friendly and firm at the same time, "different strokes for different folks. Some people climb mountains, some people slay digital dragons. Both valid." 

Diana shifts uncomfortably under his gaze. "I guess."

"Besides," you find yourself saying, "it's literally his birthday. Maybe, I don't know, let him enjoy things without the judgment?"

The words come out sharper than intended, surprising even you. 

Since when do you jump to Jungkook's defense? Since when do you care if someone judges his nerdy gaming habits?

Jungkook looks equally surprised, eyebrows raised slightly as he studies your face. Then his expression shifts into something softer, almost appreciative.

"Exactly. Today's about celebrating you," Tessa adds, turning to Jungkook with a warm smile. "And apparently your inhuman ability to consume ramen."

"It's my superpower," he says solemnly. "With great appetite comes great indigestion."

A ripple of laughter moves around the table, breaking the awkward moment. Diana still looks sulky, but at least she's dropped the subject.

The waiter appears then, ready to take orders, and the conversation splinters as everyone tries to decide what they want.

"You really getting the level five spicy?" Yoongi asks quietly while the others debate.

"Yeah. Why, think I can't handle it?"

He snorts. "Just checking if I need to order extra water for when you inevitably start crying."

"I do not cry from spicy food."

"Everyone cries from spicy food if it's actually spicy."

"Well, we'll see, won't we?"

He shrugs, a barely perceptible movement of one shoulder. "Your funeral."

"Comforting as always, Yoon."

The ghost of a smile flits across his face before he returns to his default expression of mild disinterest.

Across the table, Jungkook is in the middle of a heated debate with Taehyung about... something involving a game you've never heard of. His hands move animatedly as he talks, face lit with genuine enthusiasm. One of his friends keeps trying to interject, but Jungkook and Taehyung are in their own world, talking over each other and somehow still understanding perfectly.

He looks so unguarded.

So... normal. Like any other twenty-something guy arguing about video games with his friends.

Not that you care. It's just an observation.

"So you're Jungkook's roommate," Diana says, drawing your attention back to her. Her tone suggests this is somehow both surprising and slightly concerning.

"Yep." You keep it brief, hoping she'll take the hint and drop whatever line of questioning is forming behind those judgmental eyes.

No such luck.

"And how did that happen exactly? Through the university housing board?"

"Craigslist, actually."

Her eyebrows shoot up like you've just admitted to finding the apartment through a demonic summoning ritual. 

“Oh! Isn't that... dangerous?"

"Not really. The apartment was already Yoongi and Jungkook's. I just answered the ad for the third room."

"Still," she persists, "moving in with two guys you don't know. That's brave."

The way she says ‘brave’ makes it clear she means ‘stupid,’ but you're not in the mood to defend your housing choices to someone who probably thinks spicy ramen is too adventurous.

"Not really. Yoongi's background check was pretty thorough," you deadpan. "Only had to provide three references, a blood sample, and my complete genetic history."

Diana blinks, clearly unsure if you're joking.

"It's true," Yoongi confirms without looking up from his phone. "Her midichlorian count was acceptable."

"What’s… midichlorian?" Diana asks uncertainly.

"It’s a real scientific test," you say, keeping your expression perfectly serious. "Very exclusive."

She frowns, increasingly confused, and you feel a small, petty satisfaction at her discomfort.

"They're fucking with you," Taehyung calls from across the table, apparently tuned into your conversation despite seemingly being absorbed in his argument with Jungkook. "It's a Star Wars reference."

"Oh." Diana forces a laugh that doesn't reach her eyes. "Right."

"Ignore them," Tessa says kindly. "They operate on their own wavelength sometimes."

"Especially these two," Hobi adds, gesturing between Taehyung and Jungkook. "Like an old married couple, but with more shouting and fewer financial benefits."

"What do you mean fewer financial benefits?" Jungkook protests. "I've been carrying his broke ass in-game economy for years."

"That gold farm was my idea!"

"Your idea crashed the server and got us banned for a week!"

"Details," Taehyung waves dismissively. "The point is, I'm the brains of this operation."

"And I'm the beauty," Jungkook fires back, striking a pose that makes Hobi snort water through his nose.

It's all so... easy. The banter, the inside jokes, the casual way they navigate each other's personalities. They've clearly had years to develop this rhythm, to learn each other's edges and how to fit together despite them—or maybe because of them.

Something twists in your chest, sharp and unexpected. You busy yourself with your water glass, suddenly very interested in the condensation gathering along its sides.

The waiter returns with drinks, setting them around the table. You're grateful for the distraction, for something to do with your hands besides fidget awkwardly.

"Alright," Hobi declares once everyone has a drink, lifting his glass. "To the birthday boy! May your K/D ratio remain impressive and your hairline unreceded."

"Here's to another year of Jungkook being Jungkook," Taehyung adds, raising his own glass. "God help us all."

"To Kooks," Tessa says, her voice softer but no less sincere. "Happy birthday."

Glasses clink around the table, a chorus of echoed sentiments following. You lift your glass automatically, catching Jungkook's eye as you do. He's watching you, before he smiles—small and surprisingly genuine.

"Thanks for getting me here," he says quietly, just for you.

"Don't mention it," you reply, equally quiet. "Seriously. Don't. I'll deny everything."

His smile widens, and for a moment, it feels like you're back in that booth from earlier—just the two of you, everyone else fading to background noise.

Then Taehyung jostles his arm, demanding his opinion on something, and the moment breaks. 

You take a sip of your drink, trying to ignore the strange feeling that's settled in your chest.

It's probably just hunger. Or the vodka from earlier. 

Or the fact that you've been in this loud, crowded restaurant for what feels like hours now, surrounded by people you barely know, playing a role you're not quite sure how to perform.

Yeah. That's definitely it.

The server arrives with a ridiculous number of bowls balanced along his arms like some kind of food-based Cirque du Soleil performer. Steam rises from each one, carrying scents that make your stomach growl with embarrassing volume.

A massive, angry-looking bowl lands in front of you, the broth practically glowing red. It looks like someone liquefied the sun and threw in some noodles as an afterthought.

Perfect.

Two bowls slide in front of Jungkook—your spicy demon soup's twin and something much more reasonable looking, probably miso based on the color.

"Hungry much?" you ask, eyeing his double order.

"Growing boy," he shrugs, already reaching for chopsticks.

Taehyung, meanwhile, receives... a plate of curry rice? 

"Seriously?" You can't help the judgment that leaks into your voice. "We're at a ramen place and you ordered curry?"

He shoots you a look that could curdle milk. "Some of us have taste beyond 'hot noodle soup.'"

"Some of us aren't afraid of flavor, dickasso."

"Bold words from someone currently holding weapons-grade capsaicin," he fires back, gesturing at your bowl. "Does your taste even function, or did you burn it all away with your sad little Hot Pockets diet?"

"At least I'm not too precious to eat what the restaurant specializes in."

“This is objectively superior."

"Only if your objective is being a pretentious dick."

"I prefer 'discerning connoisseur.'"

"You would."

You hate that banter with Taehyung is starting to become more and more comfortable. Like verbal sparring with someone who actually knows how to return a serve, instead of just standing there getting hit in the face with the ball. 

Not that you like him or anything. His whole vibe—artsy, too cool for school, judgmental as fuck—is objectively annoying.

But maybe also a little entertaining. 

In small doses. 

Very small.

Across the table, Hobi watches this exchange with undisguised amusement, head swiveling between you. 

"I feel like I'm witnessing the beginning of a beautiful friendship," he says, grinning widely. "Or a homicide. Hard to tell."

"Definitely homicide," Taehyung and you say in unison, then glare at each other for the coordination.

You turn your attention back to your ramen, inhaling the spicy steam before digging in. The first bite hits like a kick to the teeth—pain followed immediately by pleasure. 

It's fucking delicious despite feeling like you just licked the surface of the sun.

"Good?" Yoongi asks, watching your face with what might be the ghost of amusement.

"Incredible," you manage, already reaching for more.

Across the table, Jungkook dives into his own spicy bowl with enthusiasm, slurping noodles with zero concern for how it looks. A drop of broth escapes, clinging to his lower lip.

You're about to say something—point it out, make fun of his complete lack of eating etiquette, something—when Tessa reaches out, casual as anything, and swipes her thumb across his lip.

"Messy," she says, the word warm with affection.

He tilts his head toward her, smiling in a way that can only be described as flirtatious. 

“That's my brand."

You purse your lips, returning your attention to your own food. 

Whatever. Let him preen over a pretty girl paying attention to him. His loser ass probably never gets that chance.

Although... that's a lie and you know it. 

The guy is annoyingly good-looking and he knows it. He's probably used to girls fawning over him, cleaning his face like he's a toddler who can't be trusted with utensils.

"Whatcha looking at, Phee—" He cuts himself off abruptly, eyes widening slightly. "—asantly surprised by how spicy that ramen is? Your face is getting red."

Smooth recovery. Not.

"Just thinking about how long it's been since I've had decent ramen."

You grab your water glass, suddenly very aware of the burning sensation spreading across your tongue. 

It's fine. Totally manageable. Nothing to worry about.

"Knew it," Yoongi mutters beside you.

You set the glass down with more force than necessary. "It's not spicy."

"Uh-huh." He doesn't even bother looking up from his own bowl. "That's why your face is the same color as the broth."

"It's warm in here."

"Sure it is."

"I can handle spice."

"Never said you couldn't."

"You implied it."

He finally glances at you, expression as bored as ever. "I implied you're a liar, not a spice lightweight."

"I'm not—" Another wave of heat crashes through your mouth, cutting off your protest. "Fine. It's a little spicy."

The corner of his mouth twitches in what might be a smile on anyone else. "A little."

"Shut up and eat your boring miso."

Amazingly, he actually laughs—a short, quiet sound that's there and gone so quickly you almost think you imagined it. 

But no, that was definitely a laugh. From Yoongi. Directed at something you said.

Huh.

You return to your ramen, determined to finish it despite the way your sinuses are starting to protest. 

It's a matter of pride now. You said you could handle it, so you'll handle it, even if it kills you.

Which it might. But what a way to go.

You glance up, seeing how Jungkook and Tessa have their heads tilted toward each other, engaged in what looks like a very amusing conversation based on her laugh. She keeps touching his arm, casual little points of contact that seem to arrive at perfectly timed intervals.

She's good at this, you'll give her that. The whole flirting thing. Not too obvious, not too reserved. Just the right amount of interest without seeming desperate.

Huh. He might get laid tonight then. Not by you. 

Good for him. 

"You're staring again," Taehyung says, his voice pitched low enough that only you can hear. "Plotting his murder or just generally disapproving of his existence?"

"Just wondering how someone with the personality of a half-deflated balloon animal manages to function in society," you reply smoothly.

"Years of practice and an excellent support system." He gestures between himself and Hobi, who's busy trying to convince one of the gamer guys that yes, there is in fact sake in the sake bomb he just drank. "We've been managing his personality disorder since freshman year."

"Sounds exhausting."

"It is." His eyes drift to where Jungkook is now showing Tessa something on his phone, both of them laughing. "But he has his moments."

You turn your attention back to your food. Halfway through, you make the tactical error of taking a large bite just as Hobi says something particularly funny, causing you to inhale sharply—and sending a piece of chili directly into your windpipe.

Coughing. So much coughing. 

Your eyes water immediately, turning the table into a blurry mess of colors and shapes as you desperately reach for your water again.

"Easy there," Yoongi says, actually sounding a little concerned as he pushes your glass closer. "Small sips."

You manage to get the water down between coughs, the cool liquid offering minimal relief to your burning throat.

"You okay?" Jungkook asks, leaning across the table with a frown.

Great. Now everyone's looking at you. Perfect. Just what you wanted. All the attention.

"Fine," you rasp, waving a hand dismissively. "Went down the wrong pipe."

"Maybe you should try something less lethal," Diana suggests, eyeing your bowl with thinly veiled judgment. "Like the mild shoyu."

"I'm good with my life choices, thanks."

"Not all of them, I hope," Taehyung mutters, just loud enough for you to hear.

You kick him under the table, aiming for his shin but probably hitting the table leg instead based on his lack of reaction.

"If you die from ramen, I'm not cleaning out your room," Yoongi says matter-of-factly.

"Noted. I'll make sure to haunt you specifically."

"Bold of you to assume I'd notice the difference."

"What, between me alive and me as a ghost?"

"You already have a resting bitch face and make weird noises at night. How would I tell?"

You choke again, this time on your own surprise. 

"I do not make weird noises at night!"

"The walls are thin."

Heat creeps up your neck, and it has nothing to do with the spice level of your food. 

“I don't—that's not—"

"Relax. I meant the way you talk in your sleep."

Oh. That's... marginally less mortifying.

"I talk in my sleep?"

"Constantly."

"About what?"

He shrugs. "Mostly nonsense. Something about pencils last night. Very intense opinions on pencils."

"I don't have opinions about pencils," you protest. "Intense or otherwise."

"Tell that to your subconscious."

The conversation shifts as one of the gamers—Ryan? you think?—slams his empty sake cup on the table with more force than necessary.

"Yo!" he announces, loud enough to get everyone's attention. "We should do shots. Birthday shots for the birthday boy!"

A chorus of approval goes up around the table. Even Diana looks on board with this plan, probably because alcohol is the one thing that might loosen up whatever's holding her personality together.

"The birthday boy needs birthday shots," Hobi agrees, already signaling the waiter.

Taehyung groans. "Please tell me we're not doing that ridiculous 'one shot for each year' tradition. I'm not carrying his drunk ass home again."

"That was one time," Jungkook protests.

"One time too many. You kept trying to pet dogs that weren't there."

"I was seeing through the space-time continuum to where dogs would eventually be."

"You threw up in my shower."

"I cleaned it!"

"With my loofah!"

"I replaced it!"

"After I used it!"

You watch this exchange with growing amusement, the rapid-fire back-and-forth almost dizzying in its intensity. It's clear this is a well-worn argument, trotted out for entertainment value rather than actual grievance.

"Fine," Taehyung concedes dramatically. "Birthday shots. But I'm not responsible for any hallucinated canines or bathroom incidents."

"Deal," Jungkook grins, then turns to Tessa. "You in?"

She laughs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I should probably pace myself. Early class tomorrow."

"Responsible," he nods, mock serious. "I respect that."

"Unlike some people," Taehyung mutters, glancing pointedly at Jungkook.

"It's my birthday. I'm legally exempt from responsibility for twenty-four hours."

"That's not a law."

"It's the law of birthdays, Tae. Everyone knows this."

Ryan—definitely Ryan—flags down the server successfully this time, ordering a round of shots for the table. 

“Even for the responsible ones," he insists when Tessa tries to decline. "Just one. For Proofs."

She relents with a smile, rolling her stupid pretty eyes. 

"You too, Miss Spicy Ramen," Ryan says, nodding toward you. "Unless you can't handle your liquor either."

Is that a challenge? It sounds like a challenge.

"I can handle my liquor just fine," you say.

“Debatable,” Jungkook mutters, the menace.

"Oh, fighting words," Hobi laughs, clapping his hands together. "I sense a story here."

"There's no story," Jungkook says quickly.

"I think we've found the first drinking game of the night," Hobi declares. "Most embarrassing Jungkook stories. Winner gets... I don't know, bragging rights and my eternal respect."

"That's not fair," Jungkook protests. "I'm the birthday boy. I should be exempt from humiliation."

"Birthday boy gets birthday roast," Taehyung counters. 

Even Yoongi cracks a smile at that, which might be the most shocking development of the evening so far.

Five shots in and the room has developed that particular tilt that makes everything both sharper and blurrier at the same time.

"Next round!" Seth announces, grinning as he surveys the damage he's caused. 

Seth, as you've learned through increasingly slurred introductions, is one of Jungkook's film school friends—tall, blonde, and way too enthusiastic about drinking games for someone his size. 

"Embarrassing stories! Laugh and you drink!"

Groans mixed with cheers ripple around the table, which has somehow gotten messier and louder with each passing shot. Empty glasses create a small army between plates. Someone knocked over the soy sauce earlier, and no one's bothered to clean it up.

"Oh, oh, OH!" Taehyung practically bounces in his seat, raising his hand like an overeager student. "I have one."

"This'll be good," Yoongi mutters beside you, the most he's spoken in twenty minutes.

Taehyung clears his throat dramatically. "Picture this: Eighth grade. School talent show."

"No," Jungkook groans, head dropping into his hands. "Not that one."

"Yes, that one." Taehyung's grin is borderline evil. "Our boy Kooks here decides he's going to impress Minah Park with a dance routine."

"I'm begging you," Jungkook says, voice muffled through his fingers.

"To what song, you ask?" Taehyung continues, undeterred. "None other than 'Milkshake' by Kelis."

Ryan lets out a bark of laughter, immediately reaching for his shot.

"Oh my god," Diana whispers, eyes wide.

"Did he know what the song was about?" Tessa asks, already giggling.

"That's the best part," Taehyung says, pausing for dramatic effect. "He thought it was literally about making good milkshakes. His mom helped him with the routine."

The table erupts. Even Yoongi snorts, reaching for his shot glass with resigned dignity. You're trying—genuinely trying—to hold it in, pressing your lips together, but then you make the mistake of looking at Jungkook's mortified expression and it's over. Laughter spills out, and you grab your shot, tossing it back with a wince.

"His mom found out what it meant halfway through the performance," Taehyung continues, wiping tears from his eyes. "Her face—I wish smartphones existed back then."

"I hate you," Jungkook mutters, but there's no heat behind it. "So much."

"Did Minah like it at least?" Hobi asks, still chuckling.

"She transferred schools the next week," Taehyung says solemnly. "Unrelated reasons, allegedly."

Another round of laughter, another round of shots.

"My turn," Hobi declares once the chaos subsides. "Let me tell you about the first time I met this guy."

"Which version are you telling?" Jungkook asks warily.

"The true one," Hobi says with a wink. "Picture it: 2021. Dance studio on 8th. This scrawny kid walks in, says he needs to film a project for his class."

"I wasn't scrawny," Jungkook protests.

"You were a twig with hair," Hobi dismisses. "Anyway, he sets up his equipment, very professional, very serious. Then my advanced hip-hop class starts, and halfway through, he abandons his camera to try and join in."

"Oh no," Tessa whispers, delighted.

"Oh yes," Hobi confirms. "He jumps in, full confidence, absolutely sure he can keep up. Two eight-counts later, he slips, takes out my star student, and they both crash into the mirror."

"It didn't break!" Jungkook interjects.

"It cracked," Hobi corrects. "Still there. I call it the Jungkook Memorial Spiderweb."

You laugh despite yourself, drinking quickly to hide your smile when Jungkook shoots you a betrayed look.

"What about you, Yoongi?" Seth asks, refilling glasses with alarming efficiency. "How'd you meet the birthday boy?"

Yoongi regards the question like it's asked him to explain quantum physics. 

“Music production seminar. He needed help with a film score." He shrugs. "He wasn't completely terrible."

"From Yoongi, that's basically a marriage proposal," Hobi stage-whispers.

"Wow, such a beautiful story," you deadpan. "So moving. So detailed."

Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “Not all of us need a thousand words to make a point."

"Clearly." You snort, then immediately regret it when the room spins slightly. 

"What about you, new girl?" Seth asks, suddenly focused on you with an intensity that feels both flattering and vaguely predatory. "Got any good Jungkook stories from the roommate archives?"

All eyes turn to you, expectant. 

You scramble for something suitably embarrassing but not too revealing.

“Oh, I’ve got plenty,” you say, the alcohol making you bolder than usual. “But I have to live with him, so I’m weighing the entertainment value against the revenge factor.”

“Coward,” Taehyung coughs into his hand.

"Yeah, tell us the real dirt," Seth presses, leaning forward with a grin that suggests he's hoping for something scandalous.

You narrow your eyes, suddenly protective of the weird dynamic you share with Jungkook. These people don't get to know about the late-night arguments over the TV volume, or the silent coffee maker standoffs, or the way he sometimes hums in the shower when he thinks no one can hear.

"Sorry to disappoint," you say with exaggerated sweetness, "but I value my security deposit too much to reveal his darkest secrets."

"Cop-out," Seth accuses, but he's smiling.

"Another round!" Ryan announces, refilling shot glasses with something that smells vaguely like cinnamon and regret. "Tessa, you laughed at the dance story, you owe one."

“I didn’t!” she protests, but she’s fighting a smile now. “I was just… appreciating the story.”

“Liar! Your lips twitched. That’s a drink.”

She shakes her head, still smiling. “No way. I have that early class, remember?”

Before Ryan can argue further, Jungkook smoothly grabs her shot and downs it in one fluid motion. 

“Problem solved,” he says, setting the empty glass back on the table with a decisive clink.

Something about the gesture—casual, protective, maybe a little possessive—makes your stomach twist in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol or spicy ramen. 

Seth slides another shot toward you. “Here, you need a refill.”

You stare at it, trying to do math through the fuzzy haze of alcohol. 

How many shots have you had? Four? Five? You've lost count, which is probably not a great sign.

But everyone’s looking at you, waiting, and you’ve never been good at backing down from a challenge—especially when you’re already tipsy and your judgment is shot to hell.

You reach for the shot, hesitating only slightly. It burns going down, making you cough and sputter in a way that is definitely not attractive, but whatever. You can handle it.

Probably.

“Another round!” Seth calls. “Funniest pet stories. Go.”

And so the new game continues, stories flying around the table with increasing volume and decreasing coherence.

You lose track of who’s talking, everything blurring into laughter and voices and the clinking of glasses.

“Oh, and remember when Jungkook tried to sneak into that bar with his cousin’s ID?” someone is saying—maybe Ryan? The faces at the end of the table are swimming a bit. “The bouncer took one look at the picture and said, ‘This says you’re 5’4” and Filipino.’”

More laughter, more shots. The room spins again when you tilt your head back to drink.

“Another one for you,” Seth says, sliding a fresh shot in front of you after you laugh at something Hobi said. His hand lingers near yours on the table, fingers almost but not quite touching. “Don’t tell me you’re backing down so soon?"

The challenge in his tone hits some stupid part of your brain—the part that's been responsible for most of your worst decisions. 

So of course you grab the shot.

"Just getting started," you declare, tossing it back with more confidence than coordination. 

Seth grins, clearly pleased by your response. "I like you. You're fun."

"I'm a goddamn delight," you agree solemnly, which makes Taehyung snort into his drink.

The next round comes with someone telling a tale about Jungkook getting locked out of his dorm freshman year wearing only a towel. Hobi recounts the time Jungkook tried to learn breakdancing and sprained both wrists. Jungkook retaliates with something about Taehyung and body paint that has everyone howling and reaching for their drinks.

You keep pace, determined not to be the one who can't hang, even as the room develops an interesting spin and your tongue feels increasingly disconnected from your brain.

"Another one!" Seth declares, sliding a fresh shot in front of you.

You stare at it, hiccupping slightly. The thought of one more makes your stomach perform an acrobatic maneuver. 

"I don't know..."

"Come on," he urges, eyes bright with that specific drunk intensity people get when they're determined to make everyone else as wasted as they are. "Don't quit now."

You hiccup slightly, staring at the shot with growing uncertainty. 

Your stomach churns in warning.

But your pride is a stubborn, stupid stupid thing.

Before you can decide, Jungkook’s arm shoots across the table, grabbing the shot and downing it in one quick movement. His eyes find Seth’s, narrowed and unmistakably warning.

“I think she’s good,” he says, voice deceptively casual.

Seth raises his hands in mock surrender. “Just keeping the game going, man.”

You stare at Jungkook, confused by the intervention. He catches your look and shrugs, a simple ‘what?’ in his expression that somehow makes you frown harder.

The game shifts again, someone suggesting “Never Have I Ever” as a change of pace. Your brain struggles to keep up with the new rules, everything moving a little too fast, a little too loud.

“Never have I ever…” Seth taps his chin thoughtfully, eyes finding yours again. “Been skinny dipping.”

You groan internally. Of course he’d pick something designed to make people admit to being naked. Typical.

Those who have done it drink, including Jungkook, which makes Tessa raise her eyebrows in a way that seems both surprised and intrigued. 

You remain still, glass untouched, which somehow feels like a victory.

The questions continue around the table, growing progressively more suggestive as everyone’s inhibitions lower. 

A fresh shot appears in front of you, courtesy of Ryan, who’s moved on from the game and is now just passing out alcohol indiscriminately.

“Drink up!” he declares. “We’re celebrating!”

You stare at the shot, swaying slightly in your seat. The room feels too hot, too crowded, too everything. Your brain is sending out warning signals, but they’re muffled under layers of alcohol and stubbornness.

Jungkook is watching you, expression unreadable but lips pressed together in what might be concern. 

He knows you shouldn’t drink that. 

You know you shouldn’t drink that. 

But admitting it feels like losing somehow.

So you reach for the glass. Fingers clumsy.

Suddenly it’s gone—snatched away by a hand behind you.

“She doesn’t want any more, broski.”

You whip around so fast the room spins alarmingly, but there’s no mistaking that voice, that attitude, that general aura of ‘fuck around and find out.’

Yeji throws back the shot with 0 problem, slamming the empty glass on the table with a decisive clink. 

Behind her, Irya and Jimin hover like backup, taking in the scene with varying levels of amusement.

“Surprise.” Yeji grins, sharp and protective. “Happy birthday, dickhead,” she adds, nodding at Jungkook. “Mind if we crash the party?”

goal: 600 notes

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© jungkoode 2025 no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[chainymail]

the best part about studying italian longsword is that if you lose to a german school fencer you can always remind them that fiore was a little more concerned with self defense and real world tactics of murder so his methods just aren’t allowed to shine in the way they could when confined to a strict and prescriptive tournament setting. and if you beat a german school fencer you can say mama mia bitch get fiored !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[enikobite]

thinking abt hate sex w sub!jinx

your guys relationship was nothing but toxic. constantly on and off, arguing about anything under the sun. being in a relationship with her would be, hard, to say the least. she’d constantly provoke you and start arguments. you weren’t perfectly innocent either, admittedly starting arguments for your own benefit and being way too rude when angry. you two were both hot heads, a match made in hell!

her impulsivity led to your anger, which led to arguments, which fortunately led to a wonderful thing called hate sex. you had such a drive to never be wrong and always prove your point, and that gave you a constant nagging feeling to put her in her place. and you did exactly that.

you two had another argument regarding her safety. she had went out into piltover again just causing mayhem. the argument got you so heated but unlike usual, jinx wasn’t mad. she was just laughing and not taking you seriously at all. which ended up ‘face down, ass up’ on your guys’ shared bed. she was throwing insult after insult at you, yet moaning so loudly she could barely speak. you were the one laughing now, your strap slamming into her cunt from behind.

“fu- mghhh.. f-ffuck you!” she managed to squeeze a few ‘nother words out of her mouth, the pleasure intensifying making it hard for her to say anything but incoherent noises.

you cackled at her attempts to insult you loudly, “yeah, fuck you too..” you spoke ecstatically. your hand released from the back of her head, which was pushing the side of her face into the pillow. you grabbed onto her double braids using them like ‘handlebars’ as one would say, and leaned back so her face and upper body would lift off the mattress. she yelped at the feeling of you yanking her hair.

she knew that she was about to reach her climax, and so did you. every time she was close she wouldn’t tell you, but she would start moaning louder and would look for anything to grip onto. her entire body shook as she came and you helped her ride out her high, slowing down and pulling out once she was done.

before she could even say anything snarky, you suddenly flipped her on her back and slammed into her again. you felt like you deserved to get off, too. and this was your chosen method.

not proofread i wrote this in like less than 30 mins.. anyways hi sorry i’ve been mia for like 6 months but now i have this for u all! is the arcane fandom still alive anyways i hope u all like bye