#every frog is valid and lovely

[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."

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⋆｡°✩ 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 𝚓𝚞𝚜��� 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎... 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚙𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚙𝚎𝚍𝚎��𝚝𝚊𝚕 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 𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚝 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: 𝚘𝚔��𝚢 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.

goal: 750 notes

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[cherrixpie]

HOW NOT TO DATE A SLYTHERIN

part three of five

↬ being harry potter's sister wouldn't make dating theodore nott any easier - which was why you tried to hide it. only, theo was starting to get reckless with your secret.

↬ sfw; angst + hurt/comfort; wc: 3.0k; cw: none; secret relationship trope, potter!reader, griffindor! reader

thank you for all the supportive comments! wait for part four for the big showdown...

( masterlist )

The streets of Hogsmeade were blanketed in a soft layer of snow, the air filled with the mingling scents of spiced cider and chocolate wafting from the shops. You tugged your scarf tighter against the biting wind, walking beside Harry while Ron and Hermoine trailed just behind, arguing about the practicality of enchanted earmuffs. The (way too) early christmas decorations hung from every storefront, casting warm, golden light onto the snow-covered cobblestones, and the faint sounds of caroling witches and wizards drifted down from somewhere near the Three Broomsticks.

“Can we stop at Honeydukes before we head back?” Ron asked, cutting off a string of heated reasons for her argument by Hermoine who glared at him darkly. “Honestly, Ron, that is your biggest concern? Buying chocolate frogs?”

Sharing a glance, both you and Harry rolled your eyes at their bickering. You chose to defend Ron, partly because if he hadn't proposed the trip to Honeydukes, you’d have. “It’s a valid concern. Not everyone can survive on determination and revision schedules, Hermione.”

The only response you received was a long sigh, audible even over the whistling wind. When a particularly strong squall almost knocked him against a house front, Harry cursed, glowering at the restless sky. “If the weather stays the same ‘til tomorrow's game, we’ll be knocked off our brooms before we can make Malfoy lose.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes at him. “Don't you mean, before we can win? Honestly, Harry, I think you’re approaching this very unproductively.” Ruffling a hand through his unruly hair, you smiled at his grim huff. “On the other hand, if petty hostility makes you fly better-”

“You’ve done this a lot lately,” Ron cut you off, earning another pissed look by Hermoine. “Defending them snakes.”

You had? Not that you had noticed, but yes, you may have subconsciously been a little defensive when your friends had badmouthed the Slytherins, seeing as you were dating one of the most sensitive and thoughtful people you knew, who happened to also be a Slytherin. “I am merely advocating for proportionality,” you mumbled, but your voice was picked up by a gust of wind, carried to the wrong ears.

You heard them before you saw them- a drawled out voice from behind, having the four of you turn on your heels. “Advocating for proportionality, are you, Potter? How very noble. I’m sure the world is thrilled to hear another Potter lecture.” A large group of Slytherins had been approaching from behind, unnoticed by all of you. Though shielded by green-bronze scarfs, you could make out the faces of your Slytherin classmates, as well as some sixth years. Flickering over the group, your eyes found Theo's and they locked in silent understanding. If you weren't mistaken, he gave you a little wink, but that might just as well have been a product of your imagination.

“That's rich,” Harry snarled back, ignoring your tugging at his robes to keep going. “Coming from you, Malfoy, who loves to hear himself talk so much he gets himself friends as silent listeners that applaud everything he says!”

Sensing an approaching conflict, you quickly counted the heads of the Slytherin group- you were looking at a four to ten ratio.

Red shot up into Malfoy’s cheeks and you caught a movement of his hand, sliding towards his wand. “Better be careful talking like that, Potter, didn't your parents ever reach you not to pick fights when you’re outmatched? Oh, wait,” he laughed gloatingly and you buried your hands in your brother’s robe in a preventive manner. “Guess they didn't have the chance before they were blown to bits!”

But your warning glare didn't only fix Harry, you had caught a dangerous look in Theo’s eyes as well. As if he had felt his eyes on you, he returned your gaze and his expression softened slightly. You breathed a sigh of relief. Crisis averted.

“LISTEN HERE, YOU TWAT!” Ron bellowed from next to you, shaking his clenched fists. Both you and Hermoine shot forward to hold him back, but you made the fatal mistake of letting go of your livid brother, who barged at Malfoy, not even bothering to pull out his wand. His fist collided with his face the moment Ron followed hot on his heels, tackling a surprised Zabini.

“Merlin,” Hermoine muttered and pulled out her wand. Neither of you got to join in the brawl, though, because a very exasperated Theo had strode forward, separated Blaise and Ron and jinxed both Drace and Harry in one move, making both of them jump back and stumble. Some of his friends groaned at him, deprived of the easy victory, but his infamous death glare brought upon them silence in an instant.

Before they could cause any more trouble, you ushered Ron and Harry back on their feet with Hermoine's help, hastily steering them away from the group.

“Hey, Potter!”

Both you and Harry turned around, but the Slytherin sixth year that had spoken was looking at you. “Spare us the moral superiority in the future. You’re as self-absorbed as your little Gryffindor gang. The way you talk, it’s no wonder you don’t have many friends outside Gryffindor. Who could stand you?”

Ouch.

The hurt must have been visible in your features for a second, because his friends howled and patted his shoulder in appreciation. Harry tensed under your grip, but you tightened it and pulled him along as you walked away, Hermoine and Ron hot on your heels.

The whistles and cackles of the group followed you all the way to Honeydukes. Neither of you spoke, Harry seemed to be fuming and you didn't dare say anything to set him off.

“Are you even listening to me?”

You weren't, and you looked at Hermoine apologetically. Instead of listening to whatever your friend had to say, your gaze had gotten lost somewhere at the Slytherin table. Particularly fixed on the dark haired boy in between Riddle and Malfoy, with the face of a brooding storm. Even from the far end of the great hall, you knew the expression as not simply his moodiness but simmering anger, meticulously controlled.

“I’m sorry,” you said sincerely and fixed your attention on Hermoine. “What were you saying?”

Sighing, Hermoine flipped open the evening edition of the daily prophet. Some snowflakes were still caught up in her hair, relics of your visit to Hogsmeade. “You’re awfully distracted. Is it because of what that idiot Langley said?”

“Who?” you asked, even though you knew exactly who she meant. His comment had hurt you, but it was nothing you wouldn't get over. No, what held your attention in a vice-like grip that felt oh so gentle was your dear secret boyfriend who, at this exact moment, rose from his seat at the Slytherin table, undoubtedly going for a smoke to the astronomy tower.

Hermoine passed your question over, opting to pretend to read the newspaper as you could feel her careful eyes on you. “He’s in the hospital wing, you know? Langley, I mean.”

“Did he choke on his spite?” You asked absentmindedly, swirling your fork through your soup as your eyes followed Theo leaving the Great Hall. The elegance of his long strides, his upright posture, the bounce of his dark curls. It was probably as good a time as ever to realize that you were utterly and irreversibly in love with that man.

“He got hexed, nobody knows by whom. But they contemplated sending him to St. Mungos, seems like he was hexed within an inch of his life,” Hermoine explained and a realization dawned on you. An image flashed before your waking eye- Theo's expression when you had shoved Harry away. You did believe him capable of hexing Langley into St. Mungos. But you also believed him capable of a high level of intelligence that was missing from this situation.

“Was he?” you asked in a neutral voice and Hermoine nodded, no longer pretending to be interested in the newspaper. “Rumor has it that Nott hexed him, but no eye witnesses have confirmed it to the teachers. Too scared of him and his friends, probably.”

You gave up on your fruitless attempts to transport the soup to your mouth. Abruptly, you stood up and shouldered your bag with a little more force than necessary. “I think I’m going to head to the astronomy tower, I still need to finish some star charts for Professor Sinistra.”

The heavy wooden door of the astronomy tower slammed open when you marched through forcefully, the sound echoing through the chilly, starlit space. Theo didn't flinch as you slammed your bag onto the ground. He was, of course, already there, leaning against the stone wall, cigarette perched between his fingers, the ember glowing faintly in the dark. It illuminated his face that was calm, almost indifferent. But the sharp line of his jaw gave him away. He’d been waiting for this.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” you snapped, marching toward him with a heaving chest, partly from your run up the stairs, partly of fury. “What were you thinking, hexing Langley in broad daylight, in front of half the school if you can believe the rumors? Are you trying to get us caught?”

Theo exhaled slowly, smoke curling around his face like a shield. “You’re welcome, by the way,” he said, voice low and infuriatingly composed. “That guy deserved worse for what he said to you.”

You’d be lying if his dangerous dark eyes and the gravely tone of his voice didn't do something for you, paired with the fact that he had sent someone to the Hospital wing for you. But that wasn't the point right now. “You were reckless, Theo. What will your friends think? That you just snapped on a whim and decided to hospitalize the guy you hung out with?”

“They’ll trust that I have my reasons,” Theo said smoothly, making not attempts to step closer to your heaving form or meet your eye.

“And what if they believe that reason is me?” you challenged him. When he looked up, your eyes locked and the intensity of his gaze knocked the breath right out of your lungs.

“Then they do,” he simply said, making you gasp in protest. With a flick of his wrist, golden embers rained from his cigarette. “It would not be the end of the world. You wouldn't care, would you?” His gaze grew sharper and you felt utterly disarmed. “You only care that your brother and your Griffindor friends don't find out you’re dating a Slytherin.”

“I know where you’re going with this,” you pressed through pursed lips. “And it's not fair. If you were ready to admit to everyone you’re seeing the Chosen One’s sister, you’d already have.”

The force with which Theo stepped forward caught you off guard. Stopping in front of you, he leaned down and a cloud of smoke pulled you in. “I’ll do it,” he whispered to you, watching your reaction closely. “I’ll go right now and shout it from the fucking rooftops.” Crooking his head, he took a step back. “But you wouldn't want that, would you?”

You didn't answer, because you knew he was right. It was you who was trying to keep this relationship quiet, but it wasn't like you didn't have your reasons. One of them being how your friends would react, sure, but since Theo’s father was a death eater, the Order could see you as a liability as well.

Theo called your name and as if on command, you looked up at him. The cigarette lay glowing on the floor, he hadn't even bothered to smother the embers with his boot. “Are you ashamed of me?” There was a guarded vulnerability in his voice. So rare that you could do nothing but stare at him for a few seconds. Theo waited patiently, but he watched every little change of expression.

“I’m not,” you finally managed to say after you found your voice. You took a pleading step towards him, but he took one back as if on chance. “Are you sure?” he asked and a hint of bitterness laced his composed voice. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re fine with me being your dirty little secret.”

“You’re- you’re not-,” you stammered, your insides were squeezing painfully with the look he gave you. “Theo, you have to understand my situation here! I mean, you didn't even attempt to! You don’t understand what it’s like, Theo. I can’t just… parade this around. Harry, Ron, Hermione-they’d never let it go. And don’t get me started on the rest of Gryffindor!”

A humorless laugh escaped his throat. “You’re an idiot.” Flinching at his tone, you took a step back, but he stalked towards you predatorily. “Do you think you’re the only one who is under pressure here? Last time I checked, the people you answer to aren't ruthless murderers.”

He was right, you knew he was right. But there was a small, defiant part of you that just didn't want to accept it. “Just because you’re ready to tell them doesn't mean I am. They all see me as this perfect girl. I don’t get to make mistakes.”

This goddamn raised eyebrow that managed to stun anyone to silence appeared on his beautiful face. “And I’m the mistake, is that it? Great to know where I stand, Potter.”

“I didn't say that!” you protested, running your hands through your hair in frustration. Theo smiled bitterly. “You didn’t have to. You’d rather keep this quiet, pretend it’s not happening, because being with me doesn’t fit your perfect Gryffindor image.”

Anger started to bubble up in your chest once more and you clenched your fists, infuriated by his seemingly indifferent calm. “You think this is easy for me? Sneaking around, lying to my friends? If they found out about us, they’d never trust me again!” Your breath got caught in your throat as your voice grew quiet. “You don’t get it, Theo. I can’t afford to mess this up. People expect me to be perfect, and being with you… it’s not the safe choice. But it’s my choice, okay? Doesn’t that mean something?”

With an abrupt turn, Theo walked towards the railing and turned his back to you. A ruffle, a click, a soft golden glow and finally, a cloud of smoke rising from his figure as if he was burning from the inside. His voice was so hushed you had trouble understanding it, drawing closer but still keeping your distance. “You know, for someone so stubborn, you’re really bad at fighting with me.”

“That’s because I don’t want to fight with you.” you said imploringly, taking tentative steps toward him. Though he most certainly noticed even the most quiet of sounds, he didn't turn around. A long sigh left Theo’s lips and a large puff of smoke rose up to the stars. “Neither do I.”

“I’m sorry, okay?” you asked, fiddling with your fingers. “I know I’m not handling this the way you deserve.”

Finally, Theo turned around to you and you were taken aback by the sudden vulnerability in his expression. Theo’s features were often closed off, hard to read, unmovable. But now, his eyes were heavy with emotion- a mix of regret and sadness, though a light smile played along his lips. “I’m not asking for perfect. I’m just asking for you to … trust me.”

You closed the distance between you and Theo exhaled the last puff of smoke into the chilly night air before he stepped on his cigarette. His arms reached for you and you almost threw yourself into them. You hated fighting. Once around you, his hold tightened and you felt your face pressed up against his warm chest. The tremble of an exhale left your lips as you closed your eyes and relaxed in his hold. “I do, Theo. I wouldn't be here if I didn't. I wouldn’t be doing this- any of this- if I didn’t think you were worth it.”

You only got a soft rumble of his chest in response. His smell surrounded you, clouded you, and you thought to yourself you might get addicted to cigarettes if he kept smelling like them. “This might be a bad time for stuff like that, but… I've never felt like this about anyone.”

When you lifted your head from his chest, you found him already looking at you. And you had to appreciate how he must have turned down every wall he had so carefully constructed around himself to look at you with such a raw expression. “Me neither,” he almost breathed, locking your fingers. He shook his head disapprovingly. “Tesoro, your hands are ice bricks.”

“Why don't you kiss them better, then?” you asked hopefully, relieved to see a smile appear on his face. Theo brought your locked hands up to his lips and pressed slow, gentle kisses to the back of your hand. The soft tingle that followed his touch warmed your whole body.

“We’re going to have to actually talk about this, you know.” he said and you nodded slightly.

“I know. Just… not tonight.”

tag list: @annaisabookworm @empath-bunny @k0z3me @slutfordpr @aespaslut @kiarst @the-oracle-at-delphinitely-not @fakem0net @sammyreid @tulipsc @yasmin-oviedo @lazycrazyme

[diristine]

Anyways the short Clef list I promised a week ago:

Clef is 5’3, short ass skittles pack.

Clef has an aversion to water, the most he can do is like mist but not on his face. Never on his face.

He wishes he could be the father meri deserves so damn bad it tears him from the inside out every moment he thinks about her.

My Clef’s second chance is Patch, and whenever hes with them he wonders if some random habit they have is something Meri would have had if she was allowed to grow normally

He will never get off-site housing. He’s an anomaly in containment after all

His hair is long to hide the Foundation mandated tattoo of his containment number on the back of his neck, when his hair wasn’t long he just buttoned his shirt properly to hide it.

He is a demiromantic asexual, yes this is due to trauma but it is valid all the same.

He has asthma.

Whenever Clef has a panic attack or emotions get too much, he’ll start coughing up pond water. Or spitting it and acting like its nothing but saliva, but the small frog he spat out with it says otherwise.

He too has antlers, he hates it.

Simon is a bitter reminder of better times, he loves the man he does, but sometimes he wishes he were still dead.

[mukimokai]

okay no cuz why is every kinich ship valid smh

TW: LONG ASS RAMBLING BUT FUNNY SILLY CUTSIE I PROMISE

kinlani is kinlani. like omg have you seen them: sunshine social butterfly girlfriend and her introverted moon boyfriend that she loves unconditionally. And it's a new concept for her once abused boyfriend who thinks everything comes at a cost: who gets confused when Mualani just loves him without asking for anything in return and he just loves it so much it makes him weak for her; he'd do anything for her without asking for payment like he does with anyone else because she helped him heal and she's his darling little wife who he'd do anything for.

ajawnich (ajaw with the ability to go into human form because seriously. we NEED human ajaw in more ways than one) is your typical doomed mortal x immortal tragedy in which a dragon who is new to human emotions and thinks lowly of humans slowly starts to understand humanity over the years with his infuriating yet kind human companion. Both are emotionally constipated fools; Ajaw pining like a lovesick idiot because he's supposed to hate his companion and want him dead but when that day of death finally comes, Ajaw feels no joy or happiness: just empty as he looks himself in the mirror, touching his face, or, well, Kinich's face.

oronich (idk the ship name, but also it exists lol) is two characters who are seen somewhat as outsiders by their own tribes: Kinich, while loved by most of the children, has a negative reputation for his job while Ororon is seen as a problem child and cast out of society. The two ostracised characters coming together in a doomed "we're kinda similar, aren't we?" Eddie Munson and Chrissy Cunningham style (from stranger things, sorry chat) and forming an unexpected yet wholesome and definitely welcome bond with each other (they'd tend to their garden together).

lynich (a rarepair!! a popular rarepair is a miracle honestly) is two traumatized boys, the flirt and the flustered. One who speaks the truth outright, and one who's every word is a lie. One who thinks everything comes at a price, and one who thinks everything is a trick. When Lyney tells Kinich about his connections with the Fatui, Kinich isn't mad, surprised, but not mad. How could he be? When he knows why Lyney joined? He accepts him with open arms, Weighing the costs, befriending a member of the Fatui would most likely leave him out of their shadier affairs since Lyney would never harm him, right? Right. Even when Lyney succeeds Arlecchino, Even when he becomes a harbinger, even after everything: they're together, despite all the complications there are.

basically yeah. every kinich ship is valid rn. those are the popular ones at least-(ororon and kinich is not popular but it has more content than any others I've seen and ppl actually talked abt it at one point so it's being included)

citlali and kinich is being excluded bcz that's p3d0philia: fanbase, that was your lesson for shipping characters before we even know anything about them/before they're even released smh (/lh lololol)

-

to my unfortunate realization: kinlani is poppy and branch smh (singing killed his father and made his mother run away, okay). They're basically every cliche quiet boy and cliche loud girl duo ever in history and they have that absolutely based opposite aesthetic duo vibe going on and it's wonderful i love them to bits and pieces chat.

-

ajawnich is princess and the frog in which ajaw turns into a pixel dragon instead of a frog, or beauty and the beast in which ajaw's seal is the rose curse thingie, or both. or fluttercord, cant forget fluttercord. or billford, cant forget billford either. take your pick with them honestly.

-

oronich is chrissy and eddie, could also see it being christine and raoul from phantom of the opera in which ajaw is the phantom, kinich is christine, and ororon is raoul.

(wait that's genius, im a fucking genius chat. someone make that an AU and credit me right NEEEEOW.)

-

and lynich is kinda just there i dont really know anything else to compare it to but it's giving that one scene in tom and jerry where it's like: "I love you. *smothers in kisses* Why, you set my soul on fire. *smothers in kisses* It is not just a little spark. It is a flame; a big roaring flame. I can feel it now *smothers in kisses*" (the person doing the kissing and talking is lyney in case you couldn't tell LMAOOAO)

-

anyways yeah

basically kinich harem i guess

i love being a multishipper because i can collect ships like a bitch and fawn over so many a time whenever i want >:3

also i love the whiplash between some of these: like kinlani and oronich were so wholesome and then you have AUGHHGHG angst with lynich and ajawnich smh.

sorry for rambling lmao but yeah

[back-in-2037]

One of the many reasons as to why I love Franny from Meet the Robinsons so much is because of how she is a perfect representation of the idea of becoming the kind of person you wish you had in your own life.

I feel it is pretty safe to assume that Franny didn't have many friends growing up, specially because of how she acts when Lewis meets her back in his own time towards the end of the movie.

She seems more than used to people not believing in her ideas and is quick to assume that Lewis will think she is crazy like most people do, so it is very likely the other kids at school either avoid her or make fun of her.

And Future Franny giving Lewis that one 'little tip for the future' before he leaves to go back to his own time kind of reaffirms this in a way.

I've seen a lot of people assume that Franny telling Lewis that ‘she's always right’ is just a 'happy wife, happy life' joke but I don't think that's the case. I think that what Franny meant to do with that piece of advice was to tell Lewis to have faith in her, to take her ideas seriously even if they don't make much sense in the moment and to never disregard them even if they turn out to be mistaken because there could be something to be learned from them.

She remembers how much that validation of her ideas from someone else meant to her back then, after being made fun of and called crazy by everyone else for so long. To Franny, Lewis was probably one of the first people, if not the first, to actually believe in her, which we of course know is because he KNOWS for for a fact that she can indeed make her dream of teaching frogs music a reality, he's seen it after all.

And so, Future Franny being such a warm and welcoming person, who always makes it a point to make sure everyone feels safe, loved, and like they belong every time we see her on screen, is all the more meaningful because she knows both how much it hurts to be cast aside and be made fun of for simply being one's self, and how much it can mean to have somebody else accept and believe in you you, so she decided to become that somebody for others. And that kind and loving person that she ended up becoming...

Unknowingly helped the boy who would end up meeting her younger self at that science fair believe in himself and his future, and soon enough, he would do the same for her.

TL;DR: Everybody, be like Franny, be the kind, supportive person you wish you’d had in your own life.

Also, originally this started out as a reply to @xskywalker21 's post about Franny lore but it got so long it kind of became it's own post. So shout out to her for constantly reminding me how much I love Franny.

[geekgirles]

One consistency issue that gets at me when it comes to Sam is how they often treated her love for animals and activism in their favour as a joke. And one they didn't even bother to keep every time it actually would make sense for the writers to bring it up, at that.

One such example is her complete indifference to Cujo in Shades of Gray. Now, don't get me wrong, Shades of Gray was 100% Valerie's episode and her chance to shine, so naturally, I'm not saying the episode should have been about Sam instead of Valerie and Danny's budding rivalry. Nothing further from my intention.

What I mean is that it makes absolutely no sense for her to care so little about Cujo just so they could make a quick "haha, she's a cat person" joke.

Cujo starts barking to Danny, trying to go to him making uprooting the tree. Sam and Tucker holds on the tree branch as Cujo drags them down the hill. Sam: [Sighs. Turns to face Tucker.] "This is why I'm a cat person."

Even if it is quite common for people to have a preference between cats and dogs, I just don't think it meshes well with her already established animal lover personality that refuses to eat anything with a face. Especially when early on in the show she was absolutely mesmerised by Delilah, a gorilla, and bent on keeping the frogs from being dissected.

And you could say, "Well, Geeks, Delilah was an endangered species and those frogs were going to get killed. Of course it'd make more sense for Sam to care about them more than Cujo." And you would raise a very valid point, except for the fact that we later find out that Cujo and the other guard dogs were all put down in favour of the new, more technologically advanced security system.

Don't tell me that kind of heartlessness is not the kind of thing Sam, who did not hesitate to get on Skulker's case for so much as suggesting Delilah should be in a cage (even if he was actually talking about Danny and she was in the wrong there), would completely blow a gasket over.

Same-ish with Wulf.

Again, Public Enemies is a great episode, and Danny's conflict with Walker definitely deserved all the spotlight. It's just that it feels contradictory for Sam to be so blasé over Wulf's situation. I mean, a wolf ghost who's been unjustly incarcerated and repeatedly tortured with a shock collar and Sam doesn't seem all that bothered about it?

That makes absolutely no sense!

Thankfully, they remedied it somewhat in Claw of the Wild, but still.

If you're going to introduce a character as a committed animal rights activist, be consistent about it, damnit!

[thesensteawitch]

Be Quick To Catch This Blessing Hiding In Plain Sight 🍀🕯️

Pick A Pile Reading

(Left to Right- Pile 1, Pile 2, Pile 3)

Hello, Senstea Souls!

I hope you're all in a good mood today (idk why I felt called to ask this). This is a collective reading so take what resonates and leave what doesn't.

WHATSAPP me if you wish to book a personal tarot reading with me. 💌🤍

Pile 1

Hello, my dear pile 1. To catch this blessing, you need to zoom out and look at the bigger picture. As you look from above, you'll notice not one but many blessings you once prayed for rushing toward you. This is coming through, people. They are noticing you a lot. As you're growing, don't be afraid of the evil eye or negativity coming your way because you're divinely protected. But why did I ask you to zoom out? You've got your head so deep in your work that you cannot see where it's coming from. You're working in the present and hoping to see the results in your future. But your past is sprinkling glitters on you. Did you notice? Some of these blessings are coming from your past actions. Look how your past actions are rewarding you at this time and continue to put your effort in the same direction. To catch these blessings, you need to make some space for them to enter your life. The four swords flew away from the deck, which shows that rest is not even in your picture. If you don't pause and look around, then how will you even access these blessings? Giving space means resting and doing nothing at times. Doing too much can even create blockages and blur our vision. So take time to breathe out, and that's exactly when you'll feel blessed. Neither be too slow nor too fast. Be very, very organized to catch each and every opportunity coming your way. I see flowers, love offer, money, communication, travel, end of burnouts coming your way. The thirst to see your dreams come true is ending. You can stop exhausting yourself. You asked God how your life can become a little easier, and God is answering your prayers all at once. Significant signs: 1212, Fairy, Evil Eye 🧿, Turtle, Earth Signs, Boat, Eagle, Blue Fishes, and Blue Butterfly.

(Whatsapp🍀 me if you wish to book a personal tarot reading with me.)

Pile 2

Oh my pile 2, you're at a stage that I cannot even expect you to naturally see this blessing. This blessing isn't obvious at all because it asks for a sacrifice. It asks you to walk on the path that is unknown to you but has already unfolded. You don't know where you will end up if you let go of certain fears and people. You keep looking at the past, thinking that maybe you made a mistake by walking away. There was comfort in your old ways and old connections, but the growth was missing. And growth is exactly that: hiding in plain sight. It's like a firefly; you feel that you're growing when you see a motivational video or read a heart-touching quote, but it's temporary. The external world validates your experiences sometimes. The time right now of solitude is a blessing and not a punishment, but you're missing the ability to consistently recognize it. This path isn't easy, but you can adapt to it. One day tour living in the past and another stuck. between the past and the future. Currently you may not have people who listen to you, and you're forced by the divine to keep your words & wisdom to yourself. When the time is right, you'll be given a chance to speak and share your words, but not now. Be quick to make the best of this time and rise in your power. Do not delay this detour. It's needed. You'll thank God after you come out of this phase. Signs: 8844, Frog, Hammer, Red Roses, Peacock, Bull.

(Whatsapp🍀 me if you wish to book a personal tarot reading with me.)

Pile 3

Hello, my lovely pile 3. Nearing full moon/new moon I see two suitors coming your way. There's a connection here you have walked away from. Someone may even be lurking in your socials. I see love entering your life, but you'll have to make a choice. One person can be an air sign, and another can be a fire sign. Two cups kept showing up, which means one of them definitely loves you. Someone's love is too deep for you. But you seem to be afraid of committing in love because you've got your heart broken in the past. One person's energy isn't good for you, so you must avoid that person. As I do see that someone may end up stealing your light, and you know this. When the sun changes zodiac signs and enters the sign of Pisces (on the 14th of March—Sidereal), a new love connection is unlocking for you. Oh God!!!!! Wait a minute. I literally saw all the kings here. I see many people will be fighting for your attention. Past lovers and new people are all coming in together. What's happening? So your job here is to recognize your blessing. You need to trust your intuition when it comes to choosing someone. This is not going to be easy for you. Be patient with yourself. Someone who betrayed you or backstabbed you is also going to approach you. God! This is due to Venus retrograde. I also feel that someone thinks that you're getting a lot of attention from people romantically, but that may not be true. You may just naturally receive attention, and it may have nothing to do with love. But someone's heart is breaking thinking that you're out of their league. You're advised to not rush into any offer that you receive and choose to take your sweet time. P.S., I do see a couple of secret admirers in your energy. I don't know what you do, but you're a mystery to all of these people. This is something I'm 100% sure about. Don't disclose your cards to anyone. Just connect to the person you feel in your soul is the one for you. Don't ignore the red flags, and you won't have to be confused. God has already chosen the one for you, and this person is coming quick. Signs: 1414, Key, Monkey, Lord Hanuman, Butterfly, More financial blessings are coming in, Pearls, Moon, and kids are being attracted to you. If you were drawn to pile 1, then do read it as well. I feel a connection.

(Whatsapp🍀 me if you wish to book a personal tarot reading with me.)

[fumifooms]

Did you notice that in the anime chilchuck blushes when he sees marcille in the red dress? I skimmed through the marchil crumbs master post and from what I saw you didn't mention it

Also its not from the ale since he wasn't blushing right before that

Ah yeah, don’t worry it’s because part 8 of the crumbs masterpost isn’t out yet, I’ve been lazy with it but it’s been overdue ever since the second half of season 2 started, and it does have a buncha stuff don’t you even worry lol my god… I just need to get out some stuff for it first. Ahh good times

On this though: I personally don’t give it much weight but it’s valid to read into it.

What we know:

Against: - Kui does make characters blush both when they’re drunk AND when they laugh. - Chil is confirmed drunk/tipsy in that scene because in the picture above his little mood chibi is drunk lol. - The point of the scene is that he laughs at her, the joke is that he laughs at her. If there’s subtext it’s still very much secondary and easy to miss and ‘besides the point’ anyways, buut does this subtext exist? Well…

For: - In the dating sim cover, the other option was "tell her she looks pretty". None of the choices seem outrageous for his character so it’s not random throwaway lines, though of course the reasoning behind it may be as simple as ‘it’s formality’. In the chapter cover, Marcille’s section is the one on top of every other one at center stage, which makes sense since it’s for bicorn chapter and bicorn chapter is THE Marcille & Chil chapter. In all of the choice dialogue bubbles on the cover, out of the 7 ones the hand is always over the choice he picks except for Marcille’s and Falin’s, indicating he might have hesitated. - Short of being a half-foot with a sultry face, Marcille is Chilchuck’s type. - The face he’s making in his little mood emoji in the dating sim picture lol? You may be drunk but pull yourself together omg - Chilchuck does deflect his more compromising feelings so this would be in character. Marcille is the only character he teases so much so often and it’s implied to be because he finds her reaction fun, full with shojo filter and sparkles all around her with his mind. Do with this what you will… Schoolboy pulling on the pigtails of the girl he like’s pigtails.

Neutral: - we don’t see the milisecond of realization on Chil’s face in the manga. - we don’t see his face after spitting out all his ale in the anime lol. - what could be "canon" in the manga may not be in the anime and vice versa.

Also whatever the hell this is. We all know not to give too much weight to VA’s takes but also what!! I always thought in the manga that Chilchuck wasn’t the one calling frogsuit Marcille cute so that was already a steel chair to me but lol the point of him saying that in the scene was still very much to follow through on the bait she took lmaoo. I don’t thiiink Chilchuck would think the frog suit genuinely makes Marcille look cute idk. Kigurumi enjoyer Chilchuck confirmed… And I feel like if this is true then Chilchuck wouldn’t have much problem giving her a casual compliment over her looks in the golden kingdom scene either. But also?!! 👁👁

Chil’s jp VA has also said that Marcille is cute (Marcille’s jp va said Chilchuck is cute too but that’s besides the point. 16:05 here). And got into some trouble for acting overly familiar with Marcille’s VA, somewhere in this haven’t looked myself yet. So there might be a whole unrelated thing there?? I’ll cover it more fully in the crumbs masterpost hopefully, after some more investigation. Gdbdg so yeah several layers of putting crumbs under magnifiers like they could be fake gemstones to appraise their authenticity and thus value

Stare. Play it cool.

I love it when he does this it’s so cute. Cheers, raising my cup to you

[fuzziekins]

Disney Say Aro

Charlotte and Anna are hopeless romantics. They love meeting up for a good rom-com and catching up on their romantic lives. But every once in a while, Anna gets the feeling that Lottie is just a little too into it. She goes on and on about these amazing dates she's been on yet they never actually lead to the romantic relationship of her dreams. Anna's considered saying something, but instead opts not to pry and let Lottie come to whatever conclusion on her own eventually. In the meantime, she just enjoys seeing her friend light up talking about her dreams.

This pairing came a little out of left field. I had Princess and the Frog on in the background while trying (and failing) to draw a different pairing but, naturally, kept glancing at the TV. It's so obvious that Charlotte is a romantic at heart. From the time she's been little she's talked about finding her dream prince and getting married. But here's the thing - in real life, that's the kind of thing that's expected, what we're supposed to want. That's the amatonormativity talking. What happens if, even when you think you find the person of your dreams it doesn't fall into place? When the idea of it happening is more appealing than the reality? That's where the term cupioromantic comes in; the desire for a romantic relationship but not (or rarely, hardly, sporadically, etc) feeling romantic attraction. It felt like such an interesting dynamic to play with when it came to Charlotte. It's also a reminder that there's no wrong way to be aromantic. You can enjoy the idea of romance or a romantic novel or movie but not want it for yourself. And that's just as valid as never feeling or wanting anything to do with romance.

From what i could find online, there were a few cupioromantic flags. Most are alternatives to the general cupio flag which would represent both cupiosexual and cupioromantic. I opted to go with the most used flag, but you can use whichever design you gravitate more towards. I almost used the pink from the cupio flag for Lottie because putting her in pink or even red felt so obvious. But i wanted the romantic identity to stand out on its own rather than be tied to the sexual one; because while cupio is both an asexual and aromantic identity, not everyone who is aro identifies as ace. So as strange as it felt to color Lottie in green, it not only made sense to solidify that, yes, this is specifically about an aro identity, but it's also a nod to the bond that she shares with Tiana. Because we all know that Charlotte has always come through for her friend and would choose her over romance any day.

There's also little pan-colored hearts on Anna's shirt at my friend's suggestion because i just couldn't resist throwing in my personal headcannon as Anna being pansexual. 😆

Happy Aromantic Spectrum Awareness Week to my fellow aro-specs! 💚 This may not be much, but i hope that every little drawing is enough to help you feel seen, accepted, and validated. With so little representation out there, sometimes we just have to make it ourselves. And if that means continuing to make Disney gay, then i guess we'll just have to keep that going. Hope you enjoyed!

More Queer Disney: x, x, x, x, x, x

[vero-niche]

what's bóbita ? because you use that frequently

like my first reflex was to search it on google and what came up is Spanish, so i'm like, okay maybe you don't mean "little silly one" even though it makes a LOT of sense to use that word here so i added "Hungarian" to my search which made me even more confused because two things came up; my dear and love Wiktionary who said that it's linked to fucking bird or plants and this fucker

and like, i'm there, watching a children's song (that's great to be honest), and the only conclusion i have is that y'all saw a word in Spanish, thought "wow it's really fucking cool" and used it ???? which, totally valid, every language goes and looks around and takes words that think it's cool and uses it, but Spanish ?????

spanish hater here i got forced to learn spanish for seven years and i can only say my name and insult someone

hdhdhshdtdttszs oh this is amazing, didnt know bóbita meant that in spanish 💞

yes it is in a children's song (originally a poem by weöres sándor) but it is also a legit valid name you can give to a girl, because of this very poem. the first verse of the poem goes like "bóbita, bóbita is dancing / angels are sitting around her / armies of frogs are playing the flute / armies of locusts are playing the violin." it is a very popular work that most hungarian kids are familiar with.

and i use it a lot bc that's my dear mutual @g0om's chosen name 😊

[asteria7fics]

Do you have any silly headcanons about the main 5?

Sure! I can list off a few!

Kyle:

Is mildly allergic to grass. Not bad enough to have a big reaction, but he gets a little congested in the summer when someone has just mowed their lawn, and his skin gets more irritated than most if he sits in grass for too long.

Spends way too much time on Reddit white knighting and explaining in excruciating, condescending detail why, in fact, OP is in the wrong. You will see 69ingchipmunks as an active participant on r/AmITheAsshole and r/AmITheDevil.

Has absolutely punched a hole in a wall at some point in his life. It’s a rite of passage that every Kyle must go through, I don’t make the rules.

Stan:

Is one of those kids that just fucking hates bathing, for a long time. He never gets so bad that he totally reeks, but he’s always a little bit greasy.

Gets annoyed when people point out or make fun of his ‘butt chin’.

For sure keeps his socks on during sex. They’re those white, tube socks with the black line at the top, by the way. And every pair has at least one hole somewhere on them.

Kenny:

Still listens to music on a shitty iPod nano that one of the other boys gave to him after they got their first smartphones, even after he has his own (busted) smartphone, too.

Wears his Mysterion suit under his regular clothes regularly and for YEARS. You know, just in case.

Gets really wasted at a party in college and wakes up with a piercing in his dick. (This actually happened to a guy I knew yes it’s as funny as it sounds).

Cartman:

I’ve mentioned this before, but as a kid he definitely smells like cheese. Like, processed fake cheese. Cheez-Wiz cheese.

Also spends too much time on Reddit, but he’s on there making a million throw away accounts to post outlandish shit just to get a reaction. He finds it incredibly hilarious when Kyle comments on his shit posts. (Sometimes he is asking for genuine advice/validation, but he’d never admit that).

Clyde Frog stays on the bed during sex.

Butters:

Definitely wets the bed well into middle school. His bed stays strapped with the waterproof lining.

Fucking LOVES VeggiTales. Watched it all the time when he was little and will still put it on when he’s older as a nostalgic comfort show.

Gets really wasted, entirely on accident, at the same party as Kenny and wakes up with a single nipple piercing. Kenny’s the one who pierced him. He never takes it out.

[charpeach]

I think you've created the best leshy and the best heket, both in terms of design and the posts and reblogs you've made.

but I would like to tell you that frogs don't have tails, heket is not a tadpole and that anura literally means tailless

Hi. I appreciate your message and thank you for the kind words about my designs.

Since the topic of Heket's tail seems to be appearing quite frequently in my and other artist's ask boxes, here's what I have to say.

This is your reminder that it is not okay to comment on people's artistic choices like that.

Art is art, and it begins in the artist.

Art exists to express its creator. It's to put their ideas, their love and passion towards a character or a franchise as a whole into something that others can see (listen to, read, touch, I'm not speaking just about paintings).

Art is a shared experience. It is to be observed.

And it is not an artist's job to try and fit their work into every frame that some people on the internet may have created for themselves.

Heket is not a frog. She may appear so, but her existence in a regural frog's body had ended very long time ago.

She's a goddess. A fallen and defeated one, at last, but the divine essence has intervened with her existence so much that it can't ever be taken away from her.

Frogs aren't fifteen-ish times the lamb's height. They don't have additional sets of eyes and the definitely do not have some weird crosses and tower looking like things sticking out their head. Oh, right, and they don't have tails too.

Cult of the lamb is a fantastic fictional world, with magic, relics, gods and ???. Narinder used to possess an ability to rip his face open and detach his eyeballs from their sockets to have a fight with lamb.

I don't see any good reason why in given circumstances Heket's current body can't have a tail. She still has other eyes and crosses, even though I don't include the latter in my art.

Once again, art is art and my design is my design. I've made that decision and I'm well aware that it may not be accurate to real life biology. Question awaits, why in the world should it?

I used to grow toadpoles into frogs in an aquarium a while ago. I've watched them go through every stage of development, I've seen them change and transform, and it isn't a momentary process. The tail doesn't suddenly fall off. The toadpoles first grow their back legs, then front ones, and by the time the latter are fully formed, they still have their tail for about a day or two. So, here's your biological explanation: her current body is very, very young.

I chose to include the tail in the design as a metaphor of bishop's rebirth. Her mind may be old, but right now she's like a child in a world that is so new and unfamiliar to her. She has to go through everything that all young people have to.

This post might seem just out of place, as if I'm looking too much into a simple comment like that one. But I've seen just one too many artists bullied into thinking that their ideas or choices aren't valid and do not matter. They were forced to change their beautiful works because someone else had told them to.

So let me tell you something instead.

You don't have to change your art. You can make whatever artistic choices you want, and they are valid, and they are beautiful, because they are yours.

We wouldn't have a quarter of the diversity and creativity in art if a long time ago one artist their contemporaries claimed to be weird and incorrect submitted to them and returned to only drawing what they thought were allowed.

Frames are to be broken.

I love you all, thank you for reading this.

[bookishtheaterlover7]

How Long Could We Be A Sad Song?

a/n: Well, it's here! The fic that I'm most anxious to write and post. Honestly, I wrote this and got inspiration when I was in my most upset and angsty mood. Which was a few months ago, and it's been sitting within the pages of Maddie (my writing notebook), and my drafts. And somehow through a very frustrating bout of Writer's Block, as well as, the fact that I was reminded and paired my own feelings to "Taylor Swift's You're Losing Me", put it into a moodboard and boom! This fic was born.

Normally, I'd dedicate this to a special friend. But this time, I'd like to deviate, and dedicate this to myself. Weird, I know. This time though, this fic will remind me that every emotion, and every feeling is valid and if vented properly, can and will flourish into something productive and beautiful.

Alright. That's enough talk from me. I hope you all enjoy the fic. And I also hope I didn't crush you, cause well... it's angst, what else can I say? 😆

Chris Evans x Secret Girlfriend!Reader

Requested: No

WARNINGS: Panic Attacks, Angst, Established Relationship, Relationship Drama, Sad Chris, Sad Dodger

Heartbreak Divider by @firefly-graphics

Enjoy!!!

*Y/C/F/M = Your Close Family Member

Outside, the night was quiet, and peaceful. The crickets calling into the night air, frogs singing in unison, adding to the ambiance. Even the noisiest neighbor seemed to have taken some time off from being the thorn on everyone’s side. But while the world seemed almost frozen, Y/n sat in her living room, her heart pounding in her ears, and a knot forming in the pit of her stomach after she told the Love of her Life that she wanted to end their 6-year relationship. The sad part was, Chris seemed so lost as Y/n’s words hung in the air.

“I-I don’t understand...” He finally said, looking up at her from resting his head between his legs, across their living room. The space feeling more like chasm the longer this dragged on.

“I know you don’t, Chris.” Y/n sighed, getting up from her chair, and kneeling beside Chris, before taking his trembling hands in hers, hoping to give him some comfort, knowing that he could spiral into a Panic Attack in his fragile state. She knew because, if she didn’t do it for herself, she’d do the same.

They let the silence of their built home surround them, like a warm blanket. Both knew that they were only delaying the inevitable, but they selfishly wanted to hang on to what little time they had left together.

Time felt like it slowed, as Y/n’s gaze remained focused on their joined hands. Taking her back to a time years ago, on a bench, when Chris first saved Y/n...

She had been touring New York with her family, unfortunately, the crowds were too overwhelming for her, and while they were forming their lines to enter the theater of some play, Y/n couldn’t focus her breathing long enough to look at the marquee, and her chest felt tighter and tighter, as she told *Y/C/F/M that she’d like to grab a bite from the stall she saw near a bench, a few ways back, and left before he/she/they could protest.

She took advantage of the open air, and tried to regulate her breathing, by taking slow deep breaths, before arriving and collapsing on the bench. Resting her head against the back of it and feeling and inhaling the passing fresh breeze. The tightness in her chest was still there, and she continued taking deep breaths in order to regulate her breathing, not even noticing the handsome stranger, standing next to her.

“Uh, hi! Excuse me? Miss? Ar-are you okay?” He greeted, his blue eyes gleaming, as Y/n took a big breath before answering.

“Huh. Yeah. Yeah. I’m fine, Sir. Just feeling a little overwhelmed. Is all.” She laughed, wiping her cheeks. Just noticing that there were tears running down them.

“I get that. No matter how many times you do this, or come here, it can still get overwhelming... May I?” The stranger asked, gesturing to the empty space next to her. To which she nodded and scooted over a little to give him some room.

He put his bag down between his legs, opened one of the pockets and pulled out a couple of tissues, before handing them to her. That Y/n gratefully accepted, dabbing at the corners of her eyes.

“The city is actually quite beautiful, but I’d prefer it if it didn’t have so many goings on, you know?” She said, breaking the comfortable silence that settled over them.

“Oh, I definitely know. It’s places like this right here, though, that helps.” He said, admiring the way the bench overlooked a cluster of buildings in the most picturesque way.

“Is that an invitation to meet here again?” Y/n laughed.

“Maybe... Are you going to take me up on it?” The stranger laughed, his face expressing hope.

“I might...” She smiled, holding her hand out, now being able to breathe easier.

“Y/n.”

“Chris.” He replied, taking it and shaking it.

It wasn’t until Y/n returned to the theater that she realized WHO she had just met. And it definitely took her a while to shake it off, and, even if it seemed like a fluke at the time, she was pretty sure that Chris winked at her from the stage that night.

She was thankful for how he helped her. And it just became a thing for them to do the other, even a couple years later, when Chris was presented a way to possibly earn money during the pandemic.

Y/n focused her gaze on the mantel, her mind wandering to when she and Chris first made this place into their home. Moving things around, deciding which items gets put on display, what color the walls are gonna be... Back when everything was possible.

“How time flies...” She trailed off.

“Y/N/N. Baby...” Chris cried, his voice breaking at the end. Which caused Y/n to swallow a sob too.

“How can I make this better? I can fix this for us.” He said, hopping down from the seat onto Y/n’s level on the floor.

“That’s the thing, Chris. You can’t.” Y/n cried, pulling her hands away, and wrapping them around herself, in an attempt to give herself some comfort, as well as ground her.

“This is the most cliche thing that I’ve ever said, but it’s not you, it’s me. I can’t handle it... It’s getting too much for me, and the sad thing is, it’s not even your fault, because it’s my own feelings, and you’re just doing your job...” She ranted, her heart going a mile a minute, her chest feeling tighter.

“Hey. Hey.” Chris said, gently taking her hands, placing one on his cheek, and cupping her cheek, allowing her to follow his breathing, slowing hers down.

They let time pass, just holding the other close. Letting the other’s presence bring their calm. Like always.

Chris has just realized how much of a colossal fuck up he just made. How the fuck did he not notice?! That Story went from wholesome to “What did I just do?!” in just a few hours.

His heart was racing a mile a minute, and he felt like he couldn’t catch his breath. Pacing back and forth on his balcony, the fresh air rendered useless in relieving him.

“Hey. Chris, everything’s going to be alright, okay?” Y/n said, putting one hand on his shoulder, getting his attention on her.

“Deep breaths. 2 seconds in, 3 seconds out. C’mon, Babe. Do it with me.” She smiled, helping him breathe through his attack.

Some time later, Y/n helped him onto their couch. Dodger hopping on next to Chris, allowing him to pet the little guy. She had left the room to grab him a glass of water. Which after handing it over to him, she sat down behind Dodger, hand on Chris’ knee, letting her presence and silent assurance say what words may fall short on.

“We can do this, Baby. We can work through this, fight it.” Chris said, pulling back to look at Y/n’s eyes, determined.

“No, Chris. We can’t. I can’t.” She said, pulling away, and standing so that she was facing away from him, the view from their window her only comfort in this moment.

“I know that you want to make this work, because you’re you. But I can’t let you. Do you really want to stay, when I feel like a ghost in my own relationship? I literally could send you the biggest most obvious sign, and I don’t think you’d hear me.”

“But I’m here, Y/N/N. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.” Chris pleaded.

“Yeah. What happens when you need to go, Chris? When they need you to do something, again. And I have to see pics of you and her, knowing full well that that’s supposed to be me. On your arm, announcing our love and our relationship to the world. Taking on every comment, every hate, every piece of scrutiny, together. Instead, the world believes in that sham, because they don’t know I exist in your life.” Y/n cried, turning towards him, not even bothering to hold her tears back anymore.

Chris tried to reach out for her, but she took a step back. Not letting him hold her, knowing full well that if he did, everything will feel right, and she won’t be able to do what she needed to.

“This is just temporary, Baby. It’ll soon end, and at some point, we can walk out of those doors, and be able to show everyone.” Chris said, tears shining in his own eyes.

“You’ve been saying that for years. And honestly, you don’t even know when will it end exactly. And it’s destroying you. I know that you only did this to help your family, but it shouldn’t be at the expense of your own happiness.” Y/n said with conviction, her gaze filled with so much intensity, Chris avoided it and made his way to their room.

“You know, I’m right, Chris.”

“Well, has it ever crossed your mind, that maybe, I’m doing this for us? That maybe, it isn’t just for myself and my family? But for our future together?” Chris yelled, exasperated.

“And you know, that I have never cared about any of that! I don’t care if you’re some world-famous actor, or some rich gazillionaire, or whatever. I care about you, Chris. I don’t know why you could never see that.” Y/n sighed in disbelief, turning away from Chris, heading out the door to grab her bags and leave, forever.

“Wait. Baby, please wait.” Chris said, grabbing her wrist, and holding it gently, not wanting to hurt her, but make one last stitch effort to make her stay.

“I love you, isn’t it enough? I’m all yours. No part of me is ever not going to be yours. We just need to hang in there a little longer.” Silence filled the air, Y/n remaining silent for what felt like hours, until she finally spoke.

“You know I will always love you, too, Chris. But I can’t stay and end up hating you as a result. I wouldn’t be able to survive that. I’m sorry.” She said, looking at his gorgeous eyes, committing them to memory, before pulling away, and continuing her short walk to the door.

She had one foot out the door, when she felt a small tug on her pant leg. Looking down at a sad Dodger, whining, begging her to stay.

“Hey, Bubba. Don’t be sad. I will never not love you. And I need you to make sure, your Daddy remembers that too. Can you do that for me?” She said, kneeling down and petting him while smiling through her tears, as Dodger barked in reply, licking her face.

“Alright. That’s my good boy.” Y/n said, giving him a final pet before nudging him away from the doorway, and closing it behind her.

The silence wasn’t as comforting without her there. Even as Dodger assumed his duties, nudging against Chris, as he petted him. He felt numb, like a huge chunk of himself was removed and no way to fill the hole.

“It’s just you and me now, Bud... Just you and me.”

a/n: You guys still good? I hope it wasn't too bad. I may need to write something to balance out the angst, but that'll be a while... 😬

Special thanks to the best girls in the world for encouraging me, and getting me through my panic attacks to finish this. I couldn't have done it without you. Love y'all! 🥹❤️

And I'm also pretty sure that this'll be the only Chris Evans as himself fanfiction I'll ever write or post... We'll see.

But will this be my last Taylor Swift x CE/Character song fic? Definitely not 😉

Until the next one! Stay safe and sane, Everyone 🫶

❤ Booky

Main Masterlist

Chris Evans Characters Masterlist

Taylor Swift x CE/Characters Songfic Masterlist 😉

Taglist: @nescavaneck @jiyascepter @royalwriteroftheuniverse @femefetalelevelingup

[frogofalltime]

here i am every day pouring out my heart to the world but people never take it seriously because i love my partner in the same way that i love pigeons and my comfiest sweater and my sturdiest shoes and all species of frogs and that specific kind of chocolate and the trans flag and my friends and the smell of petrichor and sharks and my chosen name and spring blossom trees and ghibli movies and my favourite books and the moon and the sun and all the stars and mushrooms and certain shades of green and rats and palaeontology and so many songs and the characters i created inside my head and none of these loves are romantic at all but they are still valid and they are still important and they are still mine all mine

[inner-memoirs]

Something that has been said to me as a trans masc person is, "Well aren't you just a tomboy? Liking boyish stuff doesn't mean you have to be trans".

The foremost mistake people are making when they ask something like this is assuming that I don't know myself well enough to distinguish being a masculine woman from being an actual man. While it's true that liking boyish things doesn't make a woman a man, that isn't the point. Gender expression is different from gender identity (though sometimes it can be easy to confuse the two).

If you put a man in a dress, it does not make him a woman; it makes him a man wearing a dress. He knows he is a man, he feels it within himself regardless of any external factor. But if people keep insisting he is a woman, treat him as one, and he is not made aware that he has any other choice but to comply, then he will likely feel compelled to do so.

When I tell you that as a child I participated in boyish activities like playing in the mud and catching frogs, or felt left out when I wasn't included with the boys, I am giving you context that I have felt disconnected from being a girl ever since I began being aware that I was treated like one. I just didn't have the language to describe it until I was older, and even then I tried to suppress it.

Many trans masculine people have a hyper feminine phase in which we try extra hard to force ourselves to fit into the box that was originally prescribed to us, only to come out on the other side with confirmation of what we already had a deep suspicion of: we just aren't women, and there isn't anything we can do to change that.

I can relate to women and their experiences. I know what it's like to be treated as one by society, and I presented as one as I grew into adulthood. I have all the lived experience of being female, without the "soul" of one. When I am amongst a group of women, I notice that I am different. When I am called by "she" or "her", I feel the words grate on my nerves and I know that they do not belong to me.

However, when my friends call me "he", when my partner refers to me as his boyfriend, when a stranger accurately assumes that I am male, and I'm treated as such, I feel at home. It feels natural, the way one should feel when they are being referred to. I love being a man in a way that I never loved being a woman. I feel confident and secure with myself, like I finally fit into my own skin. I am belated when I see the way that my body hair has come in so handsomely, or how sharp my jawline has become. This is not even close to the same thing as being a "tomboy".

I can't speak for every trans person, but I'm not wrong in saying that the vast majority of trans people think very carefully and thoroughly about who they are and what they want. When we decide to transition, we are acknowledging that we will likely face additional hardships in exchange for being happier with ourselves and true to our identity as an individual.

The next time you feel compelled to question someone's identity, think about the fact that you do not know what it's like to live as them. You don't know the road they took to get to where they are today, how they really feel, or what they really want. You are imposing your own experiences and thoughts onto them. While some people, like me, write posts like this to help bring awareness and understanding, the truth is that you don't need to understand their identity in order to respect it. There are countless different human experiences that I will never live, but that does not make them any less real and valid than mine.

[pizzatowerconfessions]

Since the confessions here have been kinda downers as of late I'm gonna confess something uplifting:

I love, love, love LOVE the "fake Peppino becomes real Peppino's brother and he's the best eldrich frog brother ever" headcanon. I mean, I've always loved it - it's such a sweet idea but since the reveal of Peppino's brother Maurice I have a whole new love for it because Maurice is... an absolute asshole. He does not vibe with me, I don't care if you headcanon him to be "nicer on the inside", "yes he's mean but he'll still protect his brother" or whatever. The relationship that Maurice has with his brother is not healthy, and I feel like his constant bullying really messed up Peppino both mentally and physically.

Not me overanalyzing the funny pizza game haha wheee

I like the diverse interpretations of fake Peppino in general. As far as I know, there is minimal official lore and we don't see much of his personality outside of what we see in the games so sky's the limit with interpretations. He can be a monstrous velociraptor horror, innocent frog creature, or funny slime man it's all cool and valid to me. However you interpret him I will always love him being Peppino's sweet and supportive brother because I like to think he would fill the gap in Peppino's heart that always wanted a sibling that didn't make him feel like an utter failure every minute of his life.

Not me overanalyzing the funny pizza game part 2 electric boogaloo

Fake Peppino should yeet Maurice into the depths of hell lol

Additionally, anyone who makes fan-made Spaghetti family members who love and support Peppino... I love you so much (platonically). Give Peppino the familial love and support he needs, this dude deserves all the best <3

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