#and then take that to mean you think ALL should and are forcing them into it

[edisacornball]

I hate to say this, because it's a really soul-crushing answer, but there isn't going to be a clear enemy, especially if people are trying to claim that all of a demographic is the enemy. This is an all or none fallacy. If an organization or person is trying to convince you that all the people of one demographic are your enemy, it's a way of creating alienation, isolation, and dehumanization. This is how soliders justify that it's okay to kill "the enemy" in a war.

The enemy isn't an entire demographic. Think of the other times in your life when you've been convinced that an entire demographic thinks or feels or believes in one way. Were there any times you were forced to confront that that wasn't actually the case? Okay, now also think about a time you met a stranger who immediately formed opinions about you just based on traits about you that you have no control over. How did that feel? Were they right and that's actually who you are? Or was it just easier for them to dismiss you that way?

It's hard. It's really, really, really hard. Part of the whole way our brains work is that we're trained to look for patterns and shortcut work whenever we can. Sometimes that means making quick, easy assumptions. But sometimes, we have to take the time, effort, and work to recognize that sometimes we built our pattern recognition from really faulty sources. Like Hollywood. Or a racist upbringing. Sometimes, we grow up not knowing that the ideas around us can really hurt the people around us, and it's really hard to recognize how deeply that can work into our own psyche.

The hard pill to swallow is that other humans are not your enemy. Stop going for the easy answer. It's easy to hate a gender, a race, a religion and say anyone associated with it is the "enemy." Don't be so naive as to believe that the enemy is a tangible being, a supervillain wrapped in an easy package to defeat. The difference between stories and life isn't "reality," it's complexity. Stories are based in truth, absolutely, but a shrunk down and simplified truth, able to fit an entire lifetime inside, what, less than 500 pages? Life is so much more complicated, and that's what people are trying to mean when they say "stories aren't real."

The "enemy" isn't a race, a religion, a nation, an age, or even a gender. It's so much more intangible and insidious than that. Because it's just... belief. Belief that some are better than others. Belief that anyone is deserving of pain. Belief that some people should be prevented from building happy, stable lives. Belief that exists a concept such as a person not doing "enough" with their life. And the hardest part of accepting that as the enemy... is accepting that you're going to see it in yourself a lot. And it's probably actively hurting you.

TL;DR: The enemy is hate.

garden variety conservative transphobia is going to get worse but radical feminism is also going to get worse. if youre a cis women terfs are going to try to recruit you and make you believe that the reason your rights are at stake is because of trans people. they're going to tell you that all men are your violent oppressors and they're going to include trans women in that category. they're gonna tell you about women who are gender traitors and joined the enemy and they're going to point to trans men. don't believe them. trans people are not your enemy, we have no power over you, and we desperately need your support and your solidarity.

be aware of radfem pipelines and dog whistles too. be skeptical of anyone that talks about the divine feminine or correlates birthing, menstruating, or female reproductive organs with womanhood. be especially skeptical of people who use those biological things as reasons to why women are more spiritual, or more in tune with nature, or just that they're better than men (read: anyone they decide is a man)

radical feminism is an expected reactionary outcome from cis women who are being oppressed by conservatives, especially when all they practice is ciscentric, liberal, white feminism. they feel the need to be radicalized but don't have the experience and information to pinpoint the true source of their suffering. trans people are not your enemy, AMAB people are not your enemy, anyone who identifies as a man is not your enemy. we're all being crushed under the same stone

[bringthekaos]

I'm excited for your thoughts on the new season if/when you share them

It has legit taken me 3 days to come to terms with Act 1. Enough to be able to speak about it. Gunna apologize in advance for the wall of text, and I’m hiding it under a break for spoiler reasons. Also prefacing with these are all just my opinions. All are free to disagree with me and RB with discussions/theories etc. just don’t be a dick about it, I’m not engaging in any discourse.

Ok. So. I have mixed feelings, and I’m aware that this is because I don’t have the whole story yet. So this is all contingent on how the rest of the season plays out.

First and foremost, I’m… wildly swinging back and forth between love and disappointment for Viktor’s arc. So first the negative, and I’ll try to keep it brief because a lot of people have already expressed this and I don’t need to be beating that particular dead horse.

Viktor has had his agency, his bodily autonomy, his original ideas and nearly everything that made him Viktor stripped away. Nothing so far has been his choice. And while this could have worked just fine for an original character, he wasn’t. So there is a massive disconnect between what this character was/should have been. In League, it was all his choice (albeit with a healthy dose of mental illness thrown in, but still). AND it was very heavily suggested that many of the augmentations he performed weren’t as extensive as he lead everyone to believe (namely the controlling/dousing of his emotions). But it appears that whatever the Hexcore did to him, it’s real. He is clearly having a difficult time accessing his emotions, and if he can feel anything, it is limited to the point of him being completely stoic. And the thing with stoic characters is that you obliterate any emotional payoff for the audience. It’s very hard to make an audience feel an emotional connection to a character’s story arc when they themselves don’t feel anything (I have a theory about this though, but I’ll address it a little later in this post). And then there is the issue of Blitzcrank. Blitz was Viktor’s whole world, after his exile. How are they going to swing that? Like, I’m not even asking for Blitz to be in Arcane (that would be great, but I really don’t think they have time). But I stg if they take Blitz away from Viktor, make them someone else’s invention (my suspicion is Heimer or he finds the idea in Sky’s journal)… I’m sorry but no. This was Viktor’s idea, Viktor’s genius. I will genuinely be extremely upset if they take that from him too.

Then there is the whole situation with Sky. First, this girl was fridged. She was nothing but a plot device and continues to be just that. It feels hollow and forced, especially now that he’s hallucinating her as some sort of penance for what he did. (I have seen the prevalent theory that it’s the Hexcore using her image and his guilt to manipulate him, given that it “ate” her, and we have seen it “manipulate” him before when it punished him for trying to destroy it). But back to Sky—he barely acknowledged that poor girl. The reason for that can be argued, whether it’s because he’s gay or because he was just so wrapped up in his one-track minded research. But regardless, there just wasn’t enough setup between those two for this whole thing to have as much weight and meaning as I think it’s supposed to. Honestly to me (TO ME) it reeks of comphet. It feels like that random woman they threw at Poe Dameron to No Homo him. I’m not even asking for Jayvik canon. But the creators were well aware of this ship, after all it’s the second most popular ship in this show and it’s been around since 2012 when Jayce was literally created for Viktor. I’m asking for the bare minimum here—that it’s left open-ended as it was in League, open for interpretation.

Last negative I have is the whole Viktor Jesus thing. The first problem is I am pretty violently agnostic, and messiah narratives have never spoken to me. I don’t enjoy them, they feel weak. The whole “ordained by a higher power” thing is just… stale. Especially when this character originally had no higher power, he gave it to himself through his own hard work and ingenuity. Honestly, Viktor’s original arc is about as far from a Jesus allegory as you can possibly get. And I am absolutely terrified that they’re going to end said Jesus arc the way you’d expect—with him dying for it. Which leaves the moral of his story “disabled man should have just accepted that he was going to die despite the fact that it was the oppression and xenophobia of Piltover that left him out to dry, without proper health care, accessibility, equality, or equity that lead to his terminal diagnosis to begin with.” Which is a very oppressor-centric narrative and we do not need another one of those.

Sorry, I know I said I’d keep the negatives brief, and that was… not. My bad. But moving on!

I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy it, I did. I am working to embrace this new Viktor narrative and work it into my brain in a way that doesn’t ruin the ship for me. So without further ado, the positives.

Jayce.

Jayce.

Jayce.

I’d have to go back and time it, but it feels like he got more screen time in this first act than the entirety of the first season combined, and his character shined for it. It humanized him in ways season one never did. He’s caring, he’s devoted, and he loved Viktor! No matter what kind of love you think it is, it proves he loved Viktor without a doubt. He carried Viktor several city blocks to the lab to save him, and then YES, he broke his promise about the Hexcore because he couldn’t stand the thought of losing him!

And he’s funny! (The scene where he picks up the regular sized hammer in the fight against Renni and made that “this is ironic” face?? And then basically the entire interaction with Ekko? The hand me a tome thing, and then when he basically pulled this when Ekko suggested “so this is all your fault cuz you pissed off the Arcane”:

GOD that shit was great. Jayce’s personality just shined, and maybe it’s too much to hope, but maybe this will douse a little of the hate. Because instead of being a subtle hint at all of those things being true about him, it’s now overt. And when people lack media literacy, the hints have to be overt.

And th-the. The h. The HUG SCENE. I don’t think I will ever emotionally recover from that scene. Starting with Viktor who, despite being clearly emotionally—I dunno, vacant I guess—sounded so lost and scared when he said “what am I?” For me, it was whispers of that scene from The Last Unicorn: “what have you done to me?” And my poor sweet Jayce, who clearly hasn’t left this damn lab except to go to Cassandra’s memorial. Sleeping on the desk and bleeding through his bandages because he doesn’t want to spend a moment away from Viktor while he “recovers.” And his euphoric response when he finds Viktor alive, when he realizes he hasn’t lost him. And I OWE HIM AN APOLOGY, goddamn. I said in a post that “Jayce will not understand.” I thought that was how Arcane was gunna start the divorce. But Jayce genuinely did not care, as long as his lover friend was alive. And just… Jayce being so affectionate through this entire scene. The hug obviously, but also blurting things he thought he’d never get to say to Viktor—“I’m resigning from the council, my place was always here in the lab with you.”

And… the hug itself. I know we’re all analyzing it frame by goddamn frame, but I see exactly what everyone else sees—there is a moment where Viktor very subtly smiles. But it’s gone in an instant, and it turns bittersweet. LOOK AT HIM.

There is something there, it’s just buried. Deep beneath the surface. It seems to say “I want this, I have wanted this for so long.” But then he realizes something, something I don’t think we’re meant to understand yet. Maybe that he doesn’t feel anything about it anymore, and he recognizes that this should upset him and it doesn’t. Or perhaps it’s something more along the lines of “it’s too late.” Whatever it is, I think this is the exact moment he knows he has to walk away. Because he knows he’ll cave to the affection, he said it himself. (Which is another thing entirely. His voice changes when he says that. Something in him is reacting to that word. Maybe he’s fighting against it, or maybe he’s fighting to get it back. But something made him almost growl that word.)

Which leads me to my final thought (for this post anyway, cuz it’s turning into a novel); Viktor is still in there. He can still feel things, I just think they’re extremely muted by whatever the Hexcore did/continues to do to him, or he has to fight to express them. Because he also smiled at the hallucination of Sky after he “cured” Huck. And if he feels nothing, he wouldn’t have been “joyous” at the thought of her being proud of him, approving of the good things he’s trying to do in her memory. He wouldn’t crave that validation, that vindication from her. So I’m hopeful that we start to see this shell crack a little, especially if those visions of Sky are the Hexcore manipulating him through guilt. It will start to erode him, no matter how stoic he has become. And literally the only thing I’m clinging to is that Jayce will see this and try to pull him out. “He’s still in there and I have to save him.” And that maybe it’ll start to work.

[muchosbesitos]

DOUBLE OR NOTHING— featuring toji fushiguro x wife! reader

after countless empty promises spilled from his lips, you wanted to believe that he’d show up to your anniversary of all things.

contents: 18+ content, minors dni. marriage problems, talks of divorce, (some) angst, smut, porn w minimal plot, cunnilingus w fingering, toji being a panty sniffer briefly mentioned, unprotected p in v, spanking (twice), backshots, missionary against a wall, toji kinda being an ass (what did you expect), pet names (ma, doll, etc.)

word count: 5k

author’s note: back from the dead sry

"I'll make it home to you by six, mama. Take you out on a nice date, get you some flowers, all that stuff you like. Promise."

The clock was nearing eight o'clock with no signs of Toji coming through the door anytime soon, your own patience starting to run out with every tick. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. The sound echoed through your ears since you'd sat down on the leather couch nearly two hours ago, waiting for Toji to fulfill the promise. A promise that he'd made after flaking out on the date planned prior to that one.

And prior to that one. And prior. It'd been more missed dates than actual ones that he'd taken you out by now—you weren't exactly sure why you'd hoped for tonight to be different. Well, you knew exactly why. Today marked three years of being married to one another. You knew that he didn't prioritize date nights with you as much as he should, but you had held some sort of foolish hope that your anniversary would mean something—anything to him.

The divorce papers felt like a dead weight in your hand, much like how your relationship would be the second that you brought it up. It all just seemed so final, seeing the terms laid out that would end years of marriage. Just by the flick of a pen. But the idea was almost like a reprieve, like something that was worth looking forward to. You shook your head, getting up from the couch to set the stack of papers on the kitchen table where Toji wouldn't miss them.

Another half hour of eerie silence and Toji still hadn't come through the door. It was getting increasingly difficult to keep some semblance of hope that he'd even show up at all, much less for your date. You admitted defeat, slipping off your heels and pulling up a throw blanket over yourself. Succumbing to the sleep that was weighing down on your eyelids.

You weren't even sure how much time had passed when you heard the door swing open, the door hitting the wall from the force. The thud of his shoes hitting the tile followed, a grumble leaving Toji's lips. "Fuckin' bastards rigged that race. Robbed me of fifty bucks," he muttered to himself, slipping his coat off before placing it up on the coat rack.

"You're home late," you called out, watching as Toji turned to look at the couch before flicking on one of the living room lights. "Jesus woman, you scared me," he grumbled, a large hand resting by his chest as he looked over in your direction. Toji rubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion lingering on his face like a second skin. It was only then that he looked over at you, really looked at you, and what you were wearing.

Ah shit.

Almost as if he wanted to make the situation worse, he'd chosen to go with, "You got all dolled up just to fall asleep on the couch?" You could've sworn you felt your eye twitch at the question. He'd barely opened up his mouth and you were already wishing that he didn't even bother showing up for the night.

Toji knew he was in deep shit with each step he took into the living room, his mind already starting to work overdrive to figure out what he could do for what he'd missed. A date? No, you wouldn't have put on the very expensive pair of Louboutins for just any date. His mind was blanking on anything other than the numbers that he'd lost with earlier in the day. Come on, think.

"No, I got dolled up because I thought I'd be going out with my husband tonight," you retorted dryly, smudges of eyeshadow sticking to your hand when you went to rub at your eyes. You could see Toji's brows furrow, the wheels seeming to turn in his head for once, before a look of realization settled on his features.

"Look, I'm sorry. I got carried away at the casino," one of the many excuses you'd heard before coming back to bite you in the ass. The same excuse that he'd used last month when he forgot about a work party you'd mentioned to him. Which wouldn't have been too bad if it weren't for all the snide comments being whispered in your direction and all the unwarranted marriage advice.

Advice that you ended up forgetting about chugging down two glasses of tequila like water. "I'll make it up to you, I swear. You can pick the place and all that shit." There went another one. He'd really topped himself using the two of them in a row. You rubbed the bridge of your nose, looking over at him in disbelief. "Do you even know what today was? Why I'm so pissed off?"

"It's your birthday?" Toji spoke after a couple seconds, the answer clearly wrong just by the look on his face. You rubbed a hand over your face, standing up from your spot on the couch. "It's our wedding anniversary, Toji," you spoke up before he made another guess that would just piss you off even further, "And I have something I need to talk to you about. It's on the kitchen table."

Underneath the vase filled with wilted flowers—a collection more than anything that you kept around as a reminder that Toji used to care, was a stack of papers. He placed the vase down on the table with more force than necessary upon realizing what the documents were. "A divorce?" The words slipped out of him with such venom, such distaste, like the idea was unfathomable.

Toji slammed the papers down on the table, the salt and pepper shakers trembling before falling over. "Is that really what you want?" He stepped closer to you when you approached the table, his hands instinctively moving to hold your hips. Holding you close to his body. "No, I didn't get married with the intention of getting a divorce. But you've been neglecting this marriage for a couple months now."

"I'll make it up to you now," Toji spoke quickly, like he was afraid of losing you at any moment. Like you'd disappear if he didn't. And as much as you wanted to avoid looking over at him, the task had just become all that much difficult when you had nowhere else to look at. It only took one glance at his face to realize just what he meant by 'making it up to you.'

"You think you're gonna fix months of pushing me aside with just sex?"

"Nah, I know it's gonna take more. But you've been so tired, isn't that right? So tired of tryin' to keep this marriage from falling apart and nobody taking care of you?" His words were like a siren's song when he whispered them in your ear, your traitorous body leaning back to meet the drag of your fingertips. It was almost laughable at how easily your resolve had melted. "Lemme take care of you mama. Promise I'll make you feel good."

"You wanna call me a dick, never wanna see me again? That's fine, just don't deny me one last taste. Please," And while Toji wasn't a man to beg for anything in his life, he found himself saying the words anyways. "Thought this was you making it up to me," and as much as you were willing yourself not to fold, you felt yourself spreading your legs almost instinctively when his finger dragged up your inner thigh.

"Can't it be both?" Toji's teeth nipped at your neck, licking a stripe up the junction of your neck. Practically salivating at the taste of you, of the expensive perfume you'd put on just a mere hours beforehand. "One could say that you're just being selfish," your words quickly died out when Toji started sucking on your pulse point, your own heartbeat betraying you. You'd expected Toji to sass you back, say something about how your body was just so needy against his touch.

But instead, he dropped down to his knees in front of you. The wooden floor underneath his knees almost made him feel bad for all the times he had you in a similar position. Almost. Toji looked up at you, "Selfish only when it comes to you."

Every slow drag of his fingertips across your smooth skin seemed almost reverent— like you were something to worship. You were, he just failed to realize that until now. Until you were almost out the door. "I'm sorry," the first real apology of the night slipped out of his mouth, his lips pressed against your shin. "I'm sorry," he moved up to your knee, repeating the action. Hushed whispers of I'm sorry's and featherlight kisses moving up your legs, stopping only when he gets to your clothed cunt.

"I'm sorry," Toji uttered his last apology against your cunt, his eyes locking onto yours as he applied an open mouthed kiss on your clothed clit. Barely darting his tongue out, swirling it against the nerves that were just begging for one ounce of stimulation. And he was practically reveling in how needy he made you in the span of seconds. Your back arched to rest against the seat behind you, one of your hands going to rest on his head.

Toji's fingers dragged slowly in between your folds, feeling the wet patch already starting to form through the thin lace material. You refused to make eye contact with him, knowing that if you did, he'd be able to see just how desperate you were in just a manner of seconds. Even if the bastard probably had a clue already. "You sure your pussy agrees with the divorce?" His voice came out to something akin to a purr, the drag of his fingers slowing down.

Getting you even more worked up than you were already. "Fucking hate you, can't even apologize right," you let out a hiss, your hand going down to his hair. Pulling his head even closer to you despite your previous claim. "Fine, I'll apologize correctly," Toji sounded like you were the one inconveniencing him—to which you were. He wanted to take his time with his meal, have you begging for him to touch you. And normally, he would've.

If he weren't desperate to have your cunt on his face again after weeks, months? of just having his fist to work with. His fist and a used pair of your panties up to his nose like a pervert, hips humping the air in desperation. Imagining that it was your tongue flicking across his leaking tip instead of his thumb, that it was your soft hands in exchange of his rough ones. And as easy as it was for him to get laid—he didn't want to be with anyone that wasn't you.

Toji hadn't tasted someone as sweet as you, heard someone so angelic before, but now he supposed that maybe he'd have to put that theory to the test if you left him after all. Just the idea was maddening. That someone else would be doing the same thing that he's doing to you now, that they'd give you the affection that he should've given.

"Especially sorry to you. Been neglecting you for too long," he hooked his fingers around the side of your panties, pulling them to the side just enough to reveal your slick folds to him. Toji swiped the tip of his finger along your entrance, your slick glistening against the harsh kitchen lighting before he stuck in his mouth. Swirling his tongue around it, licking away at it like the slut he was.

And like the deprived man that he'd been, Toji's hands went to the lace of your underwear and stretched it out until a loud rip echoed throughout the kitchen. "You always this wet for people you hate? Or is that just for me?" Toji taunted, pushing your tattered panties down to your ankles. Finally leaning in closer to where you were aching for him to touch you. To do something other than just tease you relentlessly.

Toji settled on his knees behind you, spreading your legs open like you were his favorite meal. His tongue swiped up on your dripping cunt, licking up your essence with sheer greed. "Mmph fuck, so good," his words came out muffled, his tongue swiping across your folds before darting inside of your cunt. Your grip on the table tightened, your hips working on their own accord to push back onto his face. Practically suffocating him in your pussy. Not that he minded. By any means.

Toji practically welcomed it, his hands pushing you down onto his face. Getting absorbed in your cunt completely. "A-Ah fuck, Toji!" You could already see the noise complaint hanging on your front door first thing in the morning. But how could you be expected to keep your voice down? Toji spread your folds apart with two fingers as if he were preparing for a feast, his tongue feverishly licking in between.

"Fuckin' soaked already, knew you loved me," The vibration of the low chuckle that followed his words shot currents up your spine, your ass jiggling all that much more in his face. With such a decadent taste coating his taste buds, dying by your pussy would be nothing short of a blissful way to go out. One of the fingers that he'd been using to spread your folds had been pushed inside of your cunt, your walls clenching around him.

Toji's tongue flicked against your clit, swirling the tip around the bud while his finger slowly pushed further inside of you. The loud squelch of your cunt was the only thing that filled the apartment, everything else completely silent. Your fingers dug deeper into his scalp, a low groan leaving his lips. "F-Fuck, Toji Toji," he pushed another thick finger inside, moving them in a scissoring motion to stretch you out.

"You think y're gonna find someone who can do this?" Toji looked up at you, his fingers curling up to hit that spongy spot inside of you almost perfectly. And if you didn't know any better, you'd almost say that he looked vulnerable while he made the question. Toji's lips wrapped around your clit, gently sucking on it as his fingers worked you closer and closer to your orgasm. You couldn't bring yourself to answer—didn't trust yourself to speak.

"Toji, Toji, gonna cum," you gave him a warning, your jaw falling slack and your lips parting in a o-shape. Soundless moans leaving your lips, feeling that coil in your lower tummy start to tighten up all the much more. With one final pump of his fingers, you were covering his lips with your release. His tongue swiped across his lips, across the scar that he hated, collecting every drop. Savoring what he imagined would be the last taste of you.

"Turn around," It was almost embarrassing how quickly you'd turned around per your soon-to-be ex husband's request.

Toji didn't take more than a couple seconds in unbuttoning his pants and taking them off, his cock hitting his stomach once it was released from its confines. Precum dribbled from his annoyingly almost pretty pink tip, dripping onto the floor. Drip. Drip. Drip. His cock slid through your folds like a slip n slide, your previous orgasm coating his tip with every lazy drag. "Toji," your voice bordered on a whine, pushing your hips to try to meet his movements.

"Tell me what you want," Toji clicked his tongue, one of his hands moving to hold your waist. Keeping you completely still until he got what he wanted. You figured there wasn't any harm in whining—you were already fucking the man after you brought up a divorce. There truly wasn't that much more to lose. "Why do I have to ask for it when you're the one apologizing?"

"Because you're the one pushing your hips back against me. All needy 'n shit. So.. beg."

"Want you inside me, Toji. Please."

"Want?"

You let out a huff before correcting yourself, "Need."

"Come on, doll. You can say it nicer than that, right?" Toji's pointer trailed up your torso, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

So goddamn annoying. You swallowed whatever pride you had left before looking back over at him, "Please, Toji. Need your cock in me. Please."

Toji clicked his tongue, one hand wrapping around his cock and giving himself a couple tentative pumps. "Think you can beg better than that. But since I'm feeling nice, I guess I'll let it slide." So much for feeling apologetic. Toji pushed his cock inside of you in one swift motion, a hiss leaving your lips at the stretch. Even with the fingers that'd been inside of you, nothing could've really prepared you.

"You okay?" Toji dropped his head to rest on your shoulder, whispering the words in your ear. Staying still while your walls tried to adjust to the overwhelming stretch. "You try taking your cock," you muttered dryly, giving him a nod to start moving. "Why would I do that when you take it so well?" Toji pushed the rest of his cock inside, his hands resting on your hips.

Toji wasn't particularly known for being gentle—the one hospital visit after he'd injured your cervix more than enough proof of that, but he started off slow. Slow, shallow thrusts. Fucking you in a way that he hasn't since your honeymoon. "Toji, you can speed up," you assured him, your words getting cut off with a smack to your ass. "What I'd say about tellin' me what to do?" Ah, there was the mean Toji that you recognized.

"Wouldn't need to tell you what to do if my vibrator wasn't looking more appealing right now."

Famous last words.

The change was almost immediate. Mascara dribbled down your cheeks, the sight of your once composed makeup all ruined making Toji's cock twitch inside of you. "Fucking pretty like this, y'know?" His teeth sunk down on the junction of your shoulder, his teeth grazing across the sensitive flesh. His hips snapped roughly into yours, your breathing growing erratic. "Fuck, Fuck, Toji!"

The coldness of his gold wedding band hit your skin as soon as he went to grip your hips, holding you against him like he needed to be close to you. The two of you had been distant for some time and he hadn't bothered to take off his wedding band once, not even on the rare occasion that he actually did happen to take a job. Toji would never admit it, of course—but he was starved for the feeling of your skin against his own.

To confirm that you were still here after all.

Your hands reached out to grab to whatever you could grab—anything, and of course, it just happened to be the divorce papers sitting on the middle of the table. Practically taunting you as your own signature glared back at you. "This good enough for you, princess?" Toji taunted in your ear, his blunt fingernails digging into your sides. "Mhm, j-just like that," your voice came out in a mewl, all bits of defiance completely out of your system.

"There you go. Nasty fucking girl," Toji all but purred in your ear the moment you started to jerk your hips back to meet his own, your ass bouncing with each one of his thrusts. "Just needed Toji to take care of ya," all you could was nod your head fervently, your grip on the divorce papers tightening. And Toji, of course, took notice. He took the papers from you with one hand, giving them a once-over before passing them back over.

"Come on, since ya wanted it so bad, read me those divorce papers," Toji handed you the stack of papers, pointing to where you'd signed your initials just a couple hours prior. Your hands shook as you held the papers, your vision blurry as you tried to make out the legal jargon in front of you. Even the simplest of words seemed all too complicated to try to make out.

"T-Toji, I can't," your voice cracked, your grip on the papers tightening when his cock reached all that much deeper inside of you. Toji clicked his tongue, peering over your shoulder to read the first sentence from the document. "That's not what it says ma, try again."

"Without all the stuttering too."

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to focus on the words in front of you instead of Toji's cock sinking further and further into you. "S-Says that the divorce agreement was made today between us," you clutched the sheets tighter, your eyes almost rolling back when Toji bottomed out inside of you. The tip of his cock dripping precum, your walls fluttering as you tried to get adjusted.

"Mm, yeah, keep goin'," Toji really couldn't care—his focus solely on the way that your cunt stretched out to fit his cock. Leaking around his shaft, loud squelches when he pulled out overplaying whatever shitty soap opera was playing. "And what'd I say about the s-stuttering?" Toji mocked your words, his own hips stuttering mere seconds later while he tried not to get absorbed in your cunt. Not that it was an easy task by any means.

It was hard, especially with the way that you claimed to be over this marriage despite your pussy claiming otherwise. When you opened your mouth to speak, the only thing that left you was a moan. "F-Fuck Toji, right there," your eyes shut tightly at the touch of his calloused hand making itself in between your legs, his thumb rubbing at your clit in a speed that felt like it combated his own running abilities.

"That's not what it says, c'mon," Toji grabbed your chin with his thumb and pointer, turning your head to face the overwhelmingly long divorce papers. You wouldn't finish tonight if he intended for you to read the whole thing, you knew that much. A harsh slap against your swollen clit made the pleasure coursing through your veins mix with pain, a shaky gasp leaving your kiss-swollen lips.

Drool leaked from the corner of your mouth, the black ink smearing with each drop that fell from your parted lips. Your walls enveloped every inch of his cock perfectly, your cunt holding his cock in a vice-like grip. "That I won't try to t-take your things," you managed to get out, hoping that it would be good enough. You knew the two of you wouldn't finish today if he made you read the never ending stack of papers. 

"Good enough," Toji sounded like he would've kept it going if he could, but you set them down as quickly as he spoke. It was almost like Toji was trying to remind you of why you'd fallen in love with him in the first place—the man reverent to your cunt and your cunt only. Every grip of your hips kept you closer and closer to his body, almost as a way for Toji to make sure you weren't slipping away.

"Wh—" Before you had the chance to complain about the loss of contact, Toji had already carried you without a smidge of struggle. His hands hooked underneath your plush thighs, hoisting you up against the wall. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his slutty waist, practically clinging onto him like a koala. "There we go, there's that pretty lil face," Toji placed his pointer underneath your chin, taking in the view in front of him.

The glazed over look in your eyes, the sweat beading up on your forehead, the makeup that he'd successfully ruined—everything about you was just so beautiful. How you tried to avoid looking in his direction for too long. "Don't leave me ma, need you in my life," the words were whispered into your ear, his cock pushing back inside of you in one swift motion. Toji's fingers went back to your throbbing clit, his pointer and middle rubbing against it at the perfect speed.

Not too fast, not too slow, and not too rough.

"Don't ask me to do that," you almost sounded pained as you spoke—not from him filling you up, but for the implication of his words. You'd practically babble anything right now, anything for him to keep going. To forget about the reality that awaits the two of you. Toji's lips found yours in an instant, the exchange between the two of you almost depraved. His mouth was feverish in the way that it moved against yours, like he'd never get the chance again.

Your hand went to the back of his head, pushing him closer against you. Letting yourself forget for just a little while longer. A string of saliva connected your lips to his when you pulled away—only to catch air. "I’m close, Toji, so close," you whined against his lips, your release coating his shaft a mere moments later. Toji only used that as lubricant, his movements quicker against your cunt to chase his own release.

"There's no one else for me, I'll stop goin' to t-the casino, stop gettin' into trouble," Toji had been reduced to a babbling the first thing he pulled out of his ass, if only to get you to stay. His head rested against the junction of your neck, basking in the remnants of proximity that he could get. Shaky breaths left his lips with each thrust of his hips, feeling himself getting closer and closer. "You've been saying that since we've been married."

"I mean it this time, I promise," you'd never heard a lie sound so pretty slipping from someone's lips before until now.

He bit down on the side of your neck, hard. Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to where you'd probably have to use a tube of concealer to even attempt to cover up the bruising mark. Causing you problems even now. But you'd be lying if the sudden act of possessiveness had your walls clenching against him even tighter, if that was even possible anymore.

His cock was barely moving against the tight grip you held around his shaft, his pace stuttering. "Fuck, fuck, so tight," Toji let out a loud groan, completely at the will of your pussy. He threw his head back, a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks in this lighting. Ropes and ropes of cum decorated your cunt, his softening length snug inside of you. Toji ended up pulling out a couple moments later, scooping the drops of cum that leaked down your thighs with his finger.

Toji was shameless in the way that he stuck the finger in his mouth, a low moan leaving his lips at the combined taste of him and you. Before your rationality came back, before you got the chance to even think about regretting this, you leaned in and crashed your lips against his own. Tasting yourself on his tongue. The kiss lingered between the two of you more than it needed to, it was less rushed than the prior ones you'd shared.

Like a last taste.

"So, you still want to get that divorce?" Toji knew you would've just babbled whatever for him to keep going, saving the question until now. His movements were almost reluctant as he pulled his pants over his legs once again, making little attempt to fix up his hair. If anything, his fingers only ended up messing the strands even more. Despite knowing the answer deep down, Toji still held out hope. That maybe you'd had some eye-opening moment while he was balls-deep.

You stood up properly, looking over at the ruined sheets on the table before looking back over at him. "I do," you spoke after a couple seconds, grabbing your tattered panties from the floor and smoothing over your dress. Trying to maintain whatever semblance of dignity you had left. Even if it was probably just as tattered up as your underwear at this point.

"Why? You know I love you. You know that you love me. So why should we get separated?" You did know that. But you also weren't sure that he'd ever loved you enough to consider changing. To consider the fact that you needed some sort of affection outside of sex.

"Because you think that somehow every problem between us can be resolved with sex. You say that you want to do better and yet, you never do. It doesn't even feel like you're my husband half of the time," all the bottled up feelings from the past couple months spilled out of you in a manner of seconds. All the bottled up thoughts that maybe you should've told your husband about earlier. Though, you weren't even sure if Toji would've paid it any mind.

And almost as if he'd read your train of thought, "Why didn't you tell me about all this before just hittin' me with divorce papers?"

"Because the few times that I did, you told me to stop bitching. That I shouldn't have anything to complain about with a roof over my head and a fridge full of food," you started off, almost waiting for him to deny what you were saying, "And while I'm not saying that I'm not thankful for those things, I also don't want to feel ungrateful for saying that I miss my husband."

Silence lingered between the two of you, each second that passed by only confirming what the two of you already knew by now. That a divorce wasn't such a far-fetched idea. Toji knew there wasn't left to even attempt fighting for, so he simply just told you, "I'll sign 'em when you get the new ones."

[verstappentime]

more of daniel taking care of max when he has a migraine that i didn't post ❤️ if you're just joining us, max had a career-ending head injury and left f1. he and daniel are married but currently broken up!

(part 1/part 2)

“Stay,” Max says, rushed, before Charles can get anything else out.

“Okay,” Daniel says. He tries to clear the lump in his throat. He’s been waiting for Max to say that word, but this is as close as he’ll get, probably. “Tilt your head forward for me.” Max does; Daniel gingerly presses the ice where his head meets his neck.

Max hisses, reaching up to grab Daniel’s forearm. It’s been so long since Max initiated touch with him; Daniel forces himself not to jolt.

“I know, baby, I’m sorry.”

Max groans, gradually loosening his grip. “Can we do the bathtub thing?”

“The– Oh, yeah, sure. Charles, do you have a bath?”

“I feel like you are being the doctor and I am the nurse,” Charles says. He’s hovering closer than a second ago. “Yes, I do, is it for something weird?”

“Nurses are very important,” Max says. Daniel wonders if the meds are making him loopy already.

“It’s not for anything weird. Can you fill it up with hot water? As hot as it can get without burning.”

“Fine. But it’s for him.” It’s too dark for Daniel to see the look Charles is giving him. Just as well.

Daniel stays there, crouched beside Max, keeping the ice pressed to his neck. Max’s breaths are shallow, like he’s trying really hard not to wince, but he’s mostly failing. “The medicine is gonna help,” he says, just for something to say. In the dark, eyes closed, Max reaches around for his hand. Daniel links their fingers, squeezing hard. Max’s hand is clammy and he can’t get a good grip on Daniel, all weak and floppy. “Tell me what feels bad?”

Max turns his face into a couch cushion, making a tiny whining sound. “It’s– like, all the bad stuff. I scared Charles with the throwing up.” He’s talking more, which is a good sign.

“It’s fine,” Daniel says. “He called me and I’m here now, so it’s fine.” He presses his thumb against where Max’s jaw meets his cheek. He’s so tense everywhere.

Charles comes back into the room. “The water’s in the bath. I’m saying again to not do anything weird.”

“We are going to do something so weird,” says Max. He groans as he swivels his legs around to stand up, pressing on his forehead. “Ah, fuck. Shit.” He grabs Daniel’s wrist, squeezing hard.

“Take it easy,” Daniel says, clearing his throat where it’s all thick. He hates this, he hates that Max hurts, that he’s still hurting, and he— he loves, sort of, that it’s him Max is reaching out for. It’s fucking twisted.

Max doesn’t ask to be helped, so Daniel doesn’t offer, just hovers as Max slowly pushes himself to stand up. But Max is unwieldy, swaying a little, and— and he grabs for Daniel again. Maybe it’s just because Daniel’s seen it all before, because he’s fed him and bathed him and sat with him in the middle of the night, but. He’s still being chosen. “Sorry,” Max says, like Daniel would ever want him to do anything else. “My eyes are not so good.”

“It’s fine. I have you.” I always will, I always fucking will.

Charles waves them through to his master bathroom. In the light, Daniel can see that Max’s left pupil is blown. He’s sweaty and he looks like shit, hair all messed up, but he’s Max, and he’s gorgeous. Daniel wants to hold him.

“Max, yell for me if he is doing anything weird to you,” Charles says, and ducks out of the room. Conceding.

“You could have told him we’re not getting naked.”

“I mean, I am taking my pants off,” Max says. “Can I hold onto you?”

Daniel nods slowly, feeling oddly like he should look away. He watches the ceiling as Max holds onto him for balance.

If Max notices him acting weird, he doesn’t say so. “You’ll get your pants wet,” he says instead.

Oh. Daniel glances to the door, where Charles is not. This isn’t what he expected when he woke up today, he thinks, as he’s stepping out of his jeans.

They sit on the edge of the tub, Daniel pressing the ice pack to Max’s neck. It’s an easy trick; get the circulation down into his lower body and away from his head.

“Charles could do this,” Daniel says, after a moment.

“I know,” Max says. He leans his head on Daniel’s shoulder, closing his eyes. He doesn’t say it, but Daniel knows it: I wanted you. “Do you have somewhere to be?”

[austenpoppy]

That's really not how I read it. First, Dick is one of the characters - in general and in the Batfamily - who spends the most time obsessing over the morality of his actions, over the no-killing rule, over the way he can control his emotions so that he doesn't use uneccessary violence, and continuously lectures people on that. Obviously this started with Kory in New Teen Titans, and this was one of the main reasons he was so reluctant to date her early on. And we have numerous examples of Dick having the same conversation with other people : Helena, Tad Ryerstad, Tarantula, Babs herself, without counting the villains (there are several examples of Dick teaming-up with a villain and repeating to them they have to do things his way or the team-up's over, like Dick did with Deathstroke in Titans 1999).

I do not understand how you can look at a guy like that and think he'd kill for the greater good/he's not as convinced about the no-killing rule as Bruce is/it's just a matter of control for him. It's actually the plot of an arc of Justice League Task Force, where Dick replaces Batman on a mission with Aquaman, Martian Manhunter, Wally and Gipsy (yes I know), when they were tasked with the destruction of a terrible weapon used by rebels in a dictatorship. At one point Dick is told by the UN liaison he should be the one taking out the dictator, and while the dictator run toward the weapon Dick tries to aim at him but can't bring himself to kill him. It is revealed Dick was chosen for this specifically because the liaison knew he was the one member of the team who wouldn't kill, and he knew the dictator would take himself out with the weapon.

Dick is Mr "That's not the way we do things" and "This isn't the way".

Did he want to hurt the Joker badly ? Yes. He went to see the Joker to get revenge, but there's not enough evidence to suggest he went there with the intention of killing him. Your evidence is that 1) Dick expressed, grieving and full of rage, that he wanted to kill the Joker, 2) he punched Dinah when she tried to prevent him from confronting the Joker, 3) he meant serious business when he went there and wasn't quipping.

For the first point, I don't understand why people look at grief and rage-fuelled moments when Dick said he wanted someone dead and take it as face value, as if this truly represented what Dick wanted - Dick. Dick's had those kinds of moments all the time. As early as New Teen Titans, he told Kommand'r that he wanted to rip her from limb to limb after it appeared she'd killed Kory, for example. He threatened multiple people to hurt them badly or even kill them if they'd done something to Tim. He dreamed of killing Blockbuster after what he did. Many other characters have done the same thing.

And you can't look at this one picture of Dick dragging his hand down his face saying he knows killing the Joker isn't the way and not tell me he hasn't calmed down slightly after the rage-fuelled moment he just had and isn't agreeing with Babs that killing the Joker isn't the way to deal with him.

Why is that important ? That shows Dick's still somewhat in control - he isn't in a muderous haze.

So why would Dinah try to prevent him from confronting the Joker ? And why would Dick punch her ?

Dinah wanted to prevent him from going because why wouldn't she ? She knew Dick was grieving and full of righteous rage and was going there to harm the Joker (again not necessarily kill him). Of course she would try to reason with him, to stop him. A vigilante going to see a person who's killed their loved ones and hurt them while being full of rage can only mean bad things.

And Dick did want to hurt the Joker, so of course he wasn't going to let someone stop him. Yet he still took the time to apologize to Dinah - does that sound like someone going to commit first-degree murder ? Or are we implying Dick's a boy-scout even when he's on a killing spree ?

Then he went into the church. Of course he was serious. Dick stops quipping whenever the stakes become higher in general, and he's downright chilly/intense when he's that angry. Even his speak bubbles reflected that when he sent Blockbuster's armies in the hospital.

But even then, for some reason people forget this guy was there :

The guy's entire power is to bring out the hate and loathing in everyone around him - so a form of mind manipulation if not mind control - he used that power to cause murders, and you're telling me this didn't have any influence over the situation ? Having him there was intentional, on the writer's and maybe the Joker's part.

But to me, this kind of panel is evidence enough Dick didn't come to the church with the intention of killing the Joker :

Dick didn't really want to kill the Joker, and that's embodied by the fact that the Joker said he didn't "want it enough" while dodging a punch from Dick and landing one of his own.

If Dick'd really come here to kill the Joker, he wouldn't have wasted time landing a few kicks and a few punches that couldn't truly kill him but sent the Joker flying. He wouldn't have wasted time asking the Joker "All the deaths ! All the pain ! When is enough enough, Joker ?". He wouldn't have let the Joker land his own punches. He certainly wouldn't have stopped right in the middle of the killing spree.

If Dick had wanted the Joker's death when he came into the church, he would've landed a killing blow right away and it would've been over in seconds.

The Joker knew that if he wanted Dick to lose control, he'd have to goad him further (by stopping while the Joker was on his knees, Dick was maybe already calming down slightly !), so that's why he brought up Jason. That's when Dick lost control and started pummelling the Joker. It was quick, relentless, and that's when the Joker's heart stopped.

Tim's apparent death caused Dick to want to hurt the Joker terribly and that's why he came to the church. The mention of Jason is the moment Dick lost control and actually started pummelling the Joker to death, though again there was Mr "My power literally incites others to riot and murder others" rejoicing in the corner.

One last thing : Dick never said he'd murdered the Joker or called himself a murderer - he made a reference to the rage he'd felt when he killed the Joker during the Vesper Fairchild affair, but he never said he'd gone in the church planning on killing the Joker. In many ways, I think that's why Blockbuster's death hit him even harder : even though he was on the verge of a panic attack when he stepped aside and was emotionally exhausted, this to him must have felt more of a conscious decision and thus a murder than was the case for Joker. And this time Dick did call it murder, and declared himself complicit in the murder of Blockbuster.

Otherwise, it wouldn't make sense that Dick was only self-flagellating a little when he thought the Joker was dead (before he was revived) but went into a full-blown panic attack after Blockbuster died, saying he'd failed Bruce and was poisonous.

There's an escalation in the level of reaction that doesn't make sense if Dick "killing" Joker was a premeditated murder and not an accident (partially caused by mind manipulation).

It's only because the narrative treats it as a big deal that it is one - that, and Dick getting depressed and full of self-loathing after. Meanwhile, Tim killed Lady Shiva while he was on Amarilla (in a smilar rage-fuelled moment), revived her, and later said she owed him her life (the little rascal lmao), and nobody bats an eye.

I've heard that Nightwing killed the joker in one of the comics? Possibly caused by Jason Todd's death? Can you shed light onto this?

Sure thing! SO, the infamous moment you are talking about is in Joker: Last Laugh #6. Dick does indeed kill the Joker, his heart stops. You’ve probably seen this moment on posts as an example of Dick’s legendary temper (rightly so, there is definitely a lot of rage involved here) but I think because of the emphasis on Dick’s emotionality, people really downplay how premeditated it all was. Dick hears that Tim is dead because of Joker’s schemes, and he decides to kill the Joker. Full stop. 

Barbara tries to talk him out of it and Canary tries to stop him, but Nightwing knocks Canary out and goes off on his own. Barbara and Batman know that Nightwing is going to kill the Joker, and both try to stop him. Seeing him walk to where the Joker is, a man on a mission, zero quips/flips, really hammered it home that he was genuinely planning on taking Joker out for good. 

So yeah, this wasn’t just beating Joker up and going a little too far in his anger, this was premeditated, first-degree murder. It is probably the only time Nightwing has ever gone after someone with the intent to kill. And it is very personal too...Nightwing didn’t have a gun or anything to take Joker out quickly from a distance. Beating Joker to death with his bare hands was drawn out. It was up close and vicious. 

Now, this is my opinion on things, so take it as you will, but this is one of the reasons why I feel like Dick’s guilt about this incident was less about him killing the Joker and more about the way he did it. See, this was not taking Joker out solely for the greater good--if it was, Nightwing certainly wouldn’t have killed him in the way he did. He went after the Joker in a rage to get revenge, and that scared him. Add that to the fact that he felt he’d let Batman down by killing and “let the Joker win” and presto. Full blown guilt complex. But that’s definitely debatable. Anyway, about his motivations. 

Explicitly, he killed the Joker because he thought that Joker had killed Tim. I’d say that Tim’s death was the final straw for Dick. He was tired of seeing the Joker hurt those he loved. When Barbara is shot by the Joker, Dick refers to waiting by her hospital bed as “the darkest days of my life since my parents death.” And when Jason dies Dick explicitly says he wants the Joker dead: 

Nightwing (1996) #62

So, it’s not like Dick’s desire for Joker’s death is coming out of nowhere. He’d held himself back, but Tim dies and he’s had enough. I think that Dick killed the Joker for all the family members that had been hurt, but Jason does have a special significance. In particular, there’s this moment after Dick beats the Joker to the point where he is incapacitated where Dick pauses. For a second, he isn’t sure if he is going to follow through with it. And then the Joker mentions Jason and Dick finishes it. 

From that point on, there is no hesitation about what he is doing. Tim has to physically pull Dick away from the Joker’s corpse to get him to stop. We have a lovely few moments where the Joker is dead:

Before Batman comes in and revives Joker (and gives him mouth to mouth...yuck). Nightwing walks away in guilt, and Batman lets him go saying that “he has to face what he’s done.” Nightwing holes himself up in his apartment, staring at pictures of Barbara before her accident, and of Jason. 

And that is the whole sad story. 

[dragon-ascent]

Hey uh... *tugs at your shirt* my mother said that you can tell me about how Morax/Zhongli is mischaracterised with attributes from a western dragon and what attributes he'd actually have as an eastern dragon if it's fine with yours... (please say yes I love hearing people yap)

Tell your mother she brought you to the right place! Keep in mind I'm not the messiah of dragon mythology; but everything is nonetheless based on medium-levels of research & informal conversations with Chinese friends of mine. Still, feel free to take everything I say with a grain of salt.

Let's start with traits belonging to many Western dragons, which people tend to mistakenly attribute to Zhongli when it comes to his portrayal in fan work or even discourse:

Cruel & domineering: I see this a LOT especially with like, Morax/Rex Lapis portrayals where he's this arrogant man asserting his dominance over his nation (or even his partner!!!) in quite forceful ways, even taking human sacrifices in exchange for peace. Pls guys, he wishes not for dominion, but he cannot watch the common folk suffer. Also, there's a difference between being dominant and being domineering! Yes, he's established his dominance, but with absolutely no arrogance or cruelty.

Brutish: I know Venti seems to say that he's a blundering, brutish buffoon in his voicelines, but in CN he simply says the Geo lord is a blockhead who doesn't understand human emotion - which at the time is fair! Zhongli was still learning about the intricacies of humanity, learning while ruling. More importantly, there is no mention of him being a brute in the original line, and nothing in the in-game text pertaining to Liyue history supports the claim. So, if you see someone claim he doesn't care for humanity, kindly punt them on my behalf.

Self-centered: A pet peeve of mine, really. Although many Western dragons are seen as selfish and greedy, putting their wants above all, we see that Zhongli is the exact opposite. He puts his people before himself, always focusing on protecting the land, even if it means he will have to make choices that will hurt him, such as having to seal his close companion Azhdaha (and possibly even slaying Guizhong with his own hands, but that's another can of worms which I won't get into because canon has not touched upon this yet).

Now, there are some characteristics of Western dragons that can be applied to him since they're common traits in Eastern dragons as well:

Being unforgiving: Western ones might be more vicious in this regard, but it's mellowed into his duty as the God of Contracts. We know that there is no mercy for people who breach contracts, regardless of whether they are friend or foe. In this regard specifically, we can say that he is indeed unforgiving.

Cunning tactician: Yes! Zhongli is a master strategist, outwitting foes and coming out on top. Yes, we hear about his sheer strength warding off adversaries, but he also uses his wit to his advantage. You can read one such story of his in the teapot furnishing description for the item "Dainty Fists."

Now let me highlight some Eastern dragon traits, some of which are canon to Zhongli's personality, and some of which I feel should be more popular when it comes to creating fan content of our beloved Li:

Wise: Even at baseline, I think we can all tell that Zhongli is a wise and philosophical individual. His wisdom is the result of the accumulation of millennia galore, and most of his appearances in-game involve imparting valuable advice or knowledge to other people. Besides this, it's important to note that before his 'death,' he was responsible for carrying out administrative tasks for the nation (as mentioned by Keqing). He provided commercial & fiscal suggestions every year during the Rite of Descension based on his own observations throughout the year, analyzing the best way forward for the next year to ensure a thriving nation.

Possessive of art & knowledge: While Western dragons are often portrayed hoarding gold and other worldly things, Eastern dragons have an appreciation for art & literature, collecting precious stories and tasteful artifacts that reflect civilization's progress. This is something Zhongli does, too, purchasing wonderfully-crafted items made by the people he's nurtured for centuries, and listening to stories.

Love of humanity: Eastern dragons LOVE humankind, as opposed to their Western counterparts. They even transform into humans of different cultures to try and understand them firsthand. Zhongli is known to shapeshift - I hope to write some pieces soon where he briefly assimilates into other nations' cultures to get closer to them! But other than that, it's safe to say he's taken on various human forms within Liyue itself to get to know his people on a deeper, more personal level.

Bonding with the special someone: Now here's where I get a bit more self-indulgent. Eastern dragons, when they find a human they really really like, will introduce this lovely soul to their vast aforementioned collection of art. The dragon may like to share stories with this beloved person, and even calligraph new ones together. Zhongli loves telling stories of course, but just think how wonderful it would be to sit with him, brush in hand, as he tenderly guides you to create a narrative together on carefully-maintained parchment saved for this very occasion - perhaps outlining anecdotes of his, or even adventures of yours. Things he'd like to immortalize on paper. This sharing of art is a very special thing for dragons to do, so it's practically a once-in-a-millennium activity for them!

[tossawary]

I'm reviewing episode transcripts from "Merlin" to build up my worldbuilding document (character list, mostly) and, a little ways into S2, I'm kind of feeling like the show is actually quite mean to Arthur as a character sometimes? S1 E14: "To Kill the King" is one of those episodes where I forget how badly it pissed me off until I run into it again.

Like, don't get me wrong, Arthur can be a bully, entitled, hotheaded, and reckless, but he's also at this point risked his own life to save people multiple times. Both individuals whose lives were "worth less" than his own (getting the Mortaeus flower for a poisoned Merlin, smuggling Mordred out of the city, protecting Ealdor from bandits) and also Camelot as a whole (fighting the plague-causing monster in the sewers, fighting the mam-eating griffin, drinking poison to lift the unicorn curse).

Arthur is giving me vibes of being both bored and frustrated (and probably not able to name those feelings or exactly why he has them) because he wants so badly to do good things, but he's not really sure how to go about it because (no one ever tells him anything, he almost NEVER knows what's really going on to make informed choices, and) he's also stuck under the thumb of his tyrannical father, who spends most of their scenes together berating Arthur for being too merciful, for not being dutiful enough, and/or not finding sorcerers for execution fast enough. When Arthur tries to be fair-minded and compassionate, Uther often essentially tells him that he's going to be a weak king with that attitude.

Arthur's pathways to betterment are limited, his parent and role model and boss here is an AWFUL person, but he's trying!

So, it's quite frustrating to get to this one episode where characters like Gaius (extremely biased, admittedly, clearly not an objective individual) are saying things like: "Arthur's not ready. The responsibility would be too great. Brave though he may be, he lacks experience, he lacks judgement."

Like, I don't know, Arthur may be only 21 and kind of a dipshit, but I personally think he'd still do a better job than the guy who tried to kill a kid (Mordred) just for existing a few episodes ago? Maybe? Gwen's father, who wasn't even a sorcerer or knowingly working with one, is dead explicitly because of Uther's awful laws. Did everyone in this episode forget that Uther tried to BURN GWEN ALIVE AT THE STAKE not that long ago (Episode 3)?

ARTHUR: "[Morgana]'s right, Father. You hear the word magic, you no longer listen."

UTHER: "You saw it for yourself. She used enchantments."

ARTHUR: "Yes, maybe. But to save her dying father, that doesn't make [Gwen] guilty of creating a plague. One's the act of, of kindness, of love, the other of evil. I don't believe evil's in this girl's heart."

UTHER: "I have witnessed what witchcraft can do. I have suffered at its hand. I cannot take that chance. If there is the slightest doubt about this girl, she must die or the whole kingdom may perish."

ARTHUR: "I understand that."

UTHER: "One day you may become King. Then you will understand. Such decisions must be made. There are dark forces that threaten this kingdom."

ARTHUR: "I know. Witchcraft is an evil, father. So is injustice. Yes, I am yet to be King, and I don't know what kind of king I will be, but I do have a sense of the kind of Camelot I would wish to live in. It would be where the punishment fits the crime."

UTHER: "I fear you're right. She's played with fire, and sadly she must die by fire."

When the adult druid (Cerdan) accompanying Mordred is killed (Episode 8), Arthur objects afterwards! On his own! While Arthur is sometimes an active participant in Uther's tyranny and otherwise complicit, he's been told all of his life that magic is inherently evil and corrupting, he was raised by the very man spreading this hateful philosophy, he should probably hate magic more than anyone after Uther, and yet he still disagrees with Uther's methods and judgments. Even though Uther is apparently VERY willing to lock both his son (Episode 4) and his ward (Episode 8) in the dungeons for disagreeing with him and disobeying him!

ARTHUR: The Druid was only in Camelot to collect supplies. He meant no harm. Is it necessary to execute him?

UTHER: Absolutely necessary. Those who use magic cannot be tolerated.

ARTHUR: The Druids are a peaceful people.

UTHER: Given the chance, they would return magic to the kingdom. They preach peace, but conspire against me. We cannot appear weak.

ARTHUR: Showing mercy can be a sign of strength.

UTHER: Our enemies will not see it that way. We have a responsibility to protect this kingdom. Executing the Druid will send out a clear message. Find the boy. Search every inch of the city.

Obviously, running a kingdom is complicated! Uther apparently won Camelot by conquest and is in conflict with many of the neighboring kings, including Odin and Cenred, and likely has more of the respect of the local nobility than young Arthur does. Uther's death would create some instability! (Agravaine de Bois hasn't been created yet, but let's assume there are many other potential vultures.)

But the show generally isn't pushing that angle. This isn't really about smooth transitions of power. Personally, concerning Arthur's "lack of judgment", I do find his ready conviction that it is his duty to die for Camelot's honor if necessary (he says as much to Merlin explicitly before fighting Valiant in Episode 2, then again before fighting the Black Knight in Episode 9) more than a little concerning, but that doesn't seem to be angle pushed here either.

The show has characters (Merlin, Gwen, Gaius) suggesting that offing the King, who regularly kills innocent people whether they have magic or not, who has forbidden use of the tool that might have saved innocent people from Nimueh's plague or the wraith of Tristan de Bois, would be wrong! It would be murder and murder is bad! It would make (in the words of a grieving Gwen) her "just as bad" as him.

Even though Merlin has at this point already killed Aulfric and Sophia (Episode 7), as well as Mary Collins (Episode 1) because they were trying to kill Arthur. And arguably got an assist with Valiant (Episode 2). And will kill many more as the show goes on. This conversation with Kilgharrah in S1 E14 is in many ways so, so funny:

KILGHARRAH: Well, young warlock, what is it you come to ask of me?

MERLIN: I need your help.

KILGHARRAH: Of course you do, but this time, will you heed my words?

MERLIN: The sorcerer Tauren is plotting to kill the King. He's made an ally of Morgana. I don't know what to do!

KILGHARRAH: Do… nothing.

MERLIN: What do you mean? If I do nothing, Uther will die.

KILGHARRAH: Don't you want Uther dead? It is Uther that persecutes you and your kind, Merlin. It is Uther that murders the innocent…

MERLIN: But surely that doesn't make it right to kill him.

KILGHARRAH: Only if Uther dies can magic return to the land. Only if Uther dies will you be free, Merlin. Uther's reign is at an end. Let Arthur's reign begin. Fulfil your destiny!

[The dragon flies off.]

MERLIN: Wait! Where does it say my destiny includes murder?

KILGHARRAH: Free this land from tyranny, Merlin! Free us all!

I feel for Kilgharrah here. He was VERY straightforward. I don't know how he could have been clearer about this.

I won't say that Merlin's character writing doesn't make ANY sense here (I do think the character writing in this show is NOT amazingly consistent), because... he IS being influenced by Gaius, who is, unfortunately, a bootlicker and also probably extremely traumatized by all of the death he's seen (big contributor of the bootlicking) (also, apparently Gaius only becomes a "freeman" at the end of Episode 6, so there's that). And Merlin is also being heavily influenced by Arthur, who loves his father, despite everything. For Arthur's sake, if no one else's, Merlin will go out of his way to save Uther. Sure! That tracks!

Merlin spends a lot of time in this show protecting a terrible status quo under some assumption that Camelot will... somehow suddenly become better under Arthur? Instead of perhaps eventually just trusting Arthur and talking to him after their years of knowing each other? There are several, in-world reasons for this and I don't think they're all unrealistic! It's tense! It's thrilling sometimes!

(Though I am ultimately a little annoyed that Merlin's many secrets never really come out and get dealt with by the characters, because that would have been fun drama and some resolution to all the tension, even if the story did still end in death.)

There's some tasty tragedy in this silly show, in many ways. Merlin is confused and conflicted and scared and without clear guidance in many ways. Kilgharrah is mysterious and not at all reassuring. Gaius is complacent and (very reasonably) incredibly secretive. Merlin doesn't get to see many of the moments where Arthur speaks up for magical people and tries to talk Uther down. Morgana and Arthur are both stuck here in a "The hands that cradled you are covered in an unimaginable amount of blood." "But they cradled me, yes?" nightmare scenario. (There's also a sexist element where male characters like Gaius and Merlin won't let Morgana know about her own powers "for her own good" in a gaslight-y way that's fascinating to me in how it creates a villain.)

But, also, the compelling tragic elements here don't make certain episodes any less frustrating to watch in their execution. (I don't think villains being frustrating to watch or read necessarily makes them effective villains, especially when what I really find annoying here is the heroes' reactions to the villain. Uther has killed SO MANY PEOPLE! FOR NO REASON!) Especially when a lot of the overall results of this show often feel more accidental than purposeful. I do understand why the writers keep Uther around! He's a formidable antagonist to have looming all over the place and the actor is fun.

But OOF, I felt that "Do... Nothing".

Merlin! MERLIN! LISTEN TO THE SCARY DRAGON! MERLIN, REMEMBER THAT TIME UTHER TRIED TO BURN GWEN ALIVE??? JUST BECAUSE GWEN IS TOO NICE TO GO AFTER UTHER WITH A KNIFE AND TAKE REVENGE, IT DOESN'T ACTUALLY MEAN KILLING HIM MAKES YOU "JUST AS BAD"!!! MERLIN!!! YOU HAVE ALREADY MURDERED MULTIPLE PEOPLE WHO KILLED WAY LESS PEOPLE THAN UTHER!!!

In Episode 4, Morgana says to Uther: "You can't chain [Arthur] up every time he disagrees with you." This implies to me that Uther has had Arthur thrown in the dungeons before. In Episode 3, Arthur says to Morgana: "Father will slam us both in chains if he knew I'd endangered you," and maybe he wasn't at all joking with that? Arthur is rattling the bars of his cell here, apparently fairly ready to be aimed wherever Merlin points him, bucking against being aimed at innocents by his tyrant of a father.

But nooo, Gaius says Arthur is "not ready yet" because...??? He seems less hotheaded than Uther to me, honestly. Are his tax policies not up to par yet? You can hire a guy for that. Suggesting that Arthur would be in any way worse than His Majesty "Anyone Who Talks To A Sorcerer Gets Executed Even If They Didn't Know They Were A Sorcerer" feels quite mean to Arthur, really. I think he'd do alright, in comparison, Gaius who lies to the King every single day, but I suppose you sometimes want to be a loyal friend to good ol' King "Made Merlin Drink Poison That One Time And Wouldn't Let Anyone Go Get The Cure". Good for you. Bad for everyone else.

Like, I know, I know this show is not very deep. I like that all of the characters are flawed and fumble a lot! I even kind of enjoy that it ultimately ends in death with so many loose emotional threads. It is a weekly burst of fantasy nonsense that is not especially concerned with consistency in worldbuilding or characters from episode to episode. But the executive discrepancies here are, like the ones in "Star Wars", weirdly fascinating with all of the holes and wobbly bits it creates.

This show: "Yes, our hero has once again saved the tyrannical king who kills innocents! Preventing the oblivious prince from assuming the throne and trying to do better as he so clearly wants to do! Good work, Merlin, taking the high road (which involved murdering the rightfully angry people trying to kill the tyrannical king) again!"

Me, every time: "...I am genuinely not sure how the show wants us to interpret this. What did they think they were doing with this? Was this always meant to be a tragedy from the first season? Because personally, I'm getting some kind of tragedy from this."

[deesseshesca]

PAC : How can I make sure my glow-up STAYS REAL ?

You will be ... POPULAR

ALL READING ON SALE (70% OFF)

PILE 1

To keep your glow-up authentic, focus on letting go of the need to always feel something big to feel fulfilled. When you’ve lived life on the edge, it’s easy to get used to the thrill and expect that every moment needs to be intense or exciting. But now that you've built a stable life, part of the glow-up is learning to embrace the calm and find meaning in it.

Instead of searching for that next adrenaline rush, start exploring the little things that bring peace, joy, and grounding. You’ve already proven that you can thrive in chaos, but the real challenge is letting yourself be happy in the quiet, simple moments—because that’s where your glow-up will actually stick.

EXTENTED + MOODBOARD

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) ALL READING ON SALE (70% OFF) (Recent review 🎀)

PILE 2

To keep your glow-up solid, focus on checking in with yourself and embracing rest over rushing. Think of it like taking a step back to make sure you're not forcing anything that doesn’t feel like you. It’s easy to get caught up in what everyone else says a glow-up should look like, but the real flex is making sure it’s for you and not for clout.

If you start feeling like you’re chasing a vibe that doesn’t match your energy, slow down. Give yourself space to recharge and figure out what makes you feel genuinely happy and grounded. A real glow-up shines through when you’re at peace with yourself—not when you're pushing to prove something to others.

EXTENDED + MOODBOARD

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) ALL READING ON SALE (70% OFF) (Recent review 🎀)

PILE 3

To keep your glow-up real, you’ve got to be willing to let go of the resistance. Right now, you might be holding onto this idea that things should stay the same, that if you let go of old habits, you’re somehow losing a part of yourself. But the truth is, glow-ups aren’t just about appearances—they’re about evolving.

Holding onto old routines and avoiding real change is like trying to paint over cracks without fixing them. You’re not that person who thrives in chaos anymore, and that’s okay. Embrace the fact that you’ve outgrown some things, and don’t be afraid to reset. Real growth happens when you’re open to adjusting, even if it’s uncomfortable.

EXTENDED + MOODBOARD

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) ALL READING ON SALE (70% OFF) (Recent review 🎀)

[mae-gi-writes]

let it be me | kuroo tetsurou (2)

In which you, as a new divorcée, can't help but crush on your 4-year-old's new PE Coach.

genre: singleparent!reader x coach! Kuroo, fluff, acquaintances-to-lovers

taglist: @patpatspatz @matchagirliris @multi-fandom-fanfic @alittlebirdahgaselx @kuroos--little--kitten @menacejelly12 @aeshiue @dreamlessnight @altheades @loonalockley @not-your-average-fangirl @bertqut1 @sunlixfl-blog @nabboo007

a/n: enjoy! <3 thanks for all the love given to the first part of this story! here's the second part. Third part is coming soon ~

---- previous | part two | next part >>>

"He can't be serious."

You sigh and watch the wine in your glass slosh around, creating beautiful patterns along the rim of your glass, "unfortunately, I think he is."

Your cousin has on an expression you can't quite place, in-between disgust and pure confusion. He's at the microwave, busy heating up some popcorn. Having adamantly asked you to sit on his couch while taking care of the snacks, you thus decided to watch Sakura play with her legos along the carpet, keeping a watchful eye in case one might end up in her mouth.

"He's only marrying her for the money," is what he concludes after a small pause.

You snort into your glass, take a sip of it and allow the bitterness to coat your tongue, "I wish that were true."

"How would you know that?"

" 'Tsumu, is it written stupid on my forehead?" your own wrinkles in distaste, "I see the way he looks at her. He's--" you choke on your words then, the knot in your throat growing tenfold, "--he's in love with her."

"Who is in love, mum?"

"No one at all," you're quick to answer upon noticing Sakura has been listening in. She normally doesn't, a kid that enjoys staring off into space and conjuring make-believe stories, where there's magic and only happy endings. You try and force a smile onto your face, "how's the house construction for Princess Peach going?"

Your daughter lets out a laugh as she presents to you a square that looks nothing like a house. Still, you coo at it, "so pretty! I bet princess peach would love it."

Your conversation with Atsumu has to wait until Sakura is tucked away in her uncle's bedroom and has listened to three stories about princesses, before you manage to join him back onto the couch where he's busy watching a rerun of volleyball matches.

You don't get to see him much now, courtesy of the fact that he's a national athlete and has been booked at the big games representing Japan. You couldn't be prouder, and yet his permanent absence does still leave a big hole in your heart whenever he flies over a thousand miles. Atsumu had been your rock since you guys were kids, defending you on the school playground and dragging you around to parties and birthdays without your consent. He'd taken care of you as a big brother would and he still is. You don't know how to repay this kind of kindness.

You're just thankful that he has one week off so that you can rant and ramble about the unfairness of the world. At least with Atsumu here, it appeases the pain, if just a little.

"Have you signed the papers yet?" he asks, handing you the bowl of popcorn.

You grab a handful, popping onto of them into your mouth as you answer, "not yet."

"You should ask him for alimony, at least."

"I'm not sure I'd win that, 'Tsumu."

"Still," his nose wrinkles in distaste, "this feels unfair. And why are you the one taking care of Sakura on your own? And I don't mean the parenting part. What about the finances? Why can't he contribute?"

"Because he's a dick and he thinks he can get away with it," you're glad that the tv is providing a welcome distraction, for you can't bear to look into Atsumu's eyes, "I'm just going to sign it and be done with it. I don't want Sakura to suffer any longer. It's not fair on her, she barely sees him."

"Well maybe it's time you find someone else too, y/n."

Your thoughts suddenly flash to Kuroo's beautiful smile and you have to physically force yourself to keep from grinning. You can feel the heat from the back of your neck and come up with the excuse that it's still too early and that Sakura wouldn't like her world shattering just for your happiness.

But it seems that Atsumu knows you better than that, for he asks, "are you blushing?"

"Wha--" Panic skitters through you, "no. No, why would I blush?"

His eyebrows raise, "you’ve met someone then?"

"N--No. Not at all. It's--" you realize you're blundering when his smile widens slightly, "it's not like that."

"So who's the lucky guy?"

"Atsumu."

"Y/N," his eyes glisten with playfulness and he nudges your shoulder, "c'mon. Tell me!"

You let out another breath and mumble, "He’'s not someone I met. He's...Just someone I know."

"And how do you know him?"

"He's Sakura's PE coach."

Atsumu lets out a whistle, "well that--" he shakes his head, "--that's not what I imagined at all."

"Shut up."

"So you like him?"

"It's not--It's really not like that. I--" you try and rack your brain for anything to say because this is really embarrassing. Who has a crush at the age of twenty-nine? Practically all of your friends are already married and have kids, talk about husband problems and how they wish for their youth back. And you? Here you are, thinking you might have a crush. You're no better than a middle school girl.

Which is why you say, "I don't even know him."

"You just think he's cute?"

"Precisely. But there are a lot of cute guys. It doesn't mean anything."

“Right,” Atsumu lets out a breath before he leans back into the couch, “but you know what I think?”

You hum in response.

“I think you should get laid—“

You almost spit out your wine in shock, gape at him in horror, “Atsumu!”

Again, your brain goes into overdrive at the thought of Kuroo and his sweaty chest, the breadth of his shoulders, the way he just towers over your small frame…

NO! You slam onto your mental brakes and shake your head, “you’re disgusting.” You spit out.

“I’m telling the truth princess. I really believe in the power of s—“

“Don’t—“ you cut him off with a raised palm, “don’t even say it.”

“So tell me,” Atsumu proceeds to wriggle his brows suggestively which makes it even harder to stop the blush igniting along your face, “this guy, how handsome is he? Must be pretty good-looking for you to be blushing like that.”

“Shut up ‘Tsumu, it’s not like that at all. Just stop. He's like--half of my age."

“Alright alright,” he laughs his deep-bellied laughter and wraps an arm around you in a gentle, comforting hug, “but if ever you do get lais with him, you gotta tell me.”

“Mum, what does ‘getting laid’ mean?”

“Oh!” Your head snaps to the doorway only to see your daughter all sleepy-eyed and clutching a spare pillow.

“Sakura!” You scramble to over, casting your cousin a scowl as you do, “c’mon, sweetie. Let’s get you back to bed.”

You hear Atsumu’s laughter follow you all the way to the bedroom.

————

It’s weird when Sakura isn’t around.

It’s almost like you’ve lost your purpose. But then again, you should be taking advantage of this right? That’s what everyone keeps telling you.

But alas, something in you cannot just let yourself rest for fear that your thoughts may go into a black hole of what ifs and images of Sakura with your ex-husband’s wife —well, almost ex-husband— and thus decide to take on a last-minute order.

It’s a simple enough request— a birthday cake. While you usually plan events from A to Z, this order merely requested a cake of any kind. So that’s how you spend your Saturday morning — creating a dough and sugar decorations that would fit into the theme of “Halloween”, as per what your client has asked.

You drive up to the pin location around four in the afternoon, strolling through the streets until the google maps signals you that you’ve arrived to your destination. Turning off the ignition at the said house — a beautiful Victorian home adorned with columns twice your height and size — you open your door only to come face to face with a familiar pair of golden eyes.

“Coach?”

“Kosuke-san?”

You both stare. And stare.

It’s shock that comes first. Before realization slaps you in the face, “oh!” You quickly bow in hopes that you haven’t been staring too long, “good afternoon, Coach. What—What brings you here?”

"Kosuke-san," he bows and looks just as surprised as you are, before he notices the way you're struggling to juggle to cake in your arms, "here, let me help you."

Without hesitation, he opens the door a bit wider and closes the gap between you, lifting the box from your arms, "jeez how heavy is this thing?"

You let out a small laugh, "it's all the icing sugar."

"Come in," he gestures with his chin for you to follow and as you step into the threshold he continues, "so when you said you were an event planner--I didn't expect you to be a cake designer too."

"It's an extra service I provide," you shrug, "I'm a patissier by career. Event planning is just something that keeps the cash flowing."

Kuroo pauses in mid-step then, "you're a patissier?"

"Yeah. Well, I was," you chuckle, "but anyway, it's been a while since I've baked now. So I hope it's just as good as you expect it to be."

Kuroo opens his mouth only to be cut off by a horde of boys stumbling into what appears to be the kitchen area. Now that you have a better look, it's all white marble and golden taps and golden handles on every piece of furniture to match. In any case, this house screams of money and for a minute, you feel a bit small and insignificant in your stained-flour blouse, the splotches of paint across your faded out jeans, courtesy of Sakura's art skills.

"You must be y/n!" one of the boys detaches himself. His orange hair glistens in the sun streaming through the window and he's a bit shorter than Kuroo. He beams at you and you can't help but be reminded of a puppy, "thanks for taking my order on such a short notice!"

"No worries at all. You must be...Hinata?"

"Yes!" he shakes your hand, "so I see you've met Kuroo! He's one of my best mates! We used to play against each other back in high school."

"Really now?" you quirk a brow in Kuroo's direction, watching the muscles of his arms ripple as he places the cake in an orderly manner inside the fridge. His voice is muffled when he replies, "yeah, he's the midget that made us jump for our lives. I hated him."

"You're just sour because you lost that one time," Hinata pouts, "but anyway, this is the rest of the ex-team!"

And so that's how you get a round of names that you will probably forget in five minutes and Kuroo, having seen the confusion in your eyes, can't help but laugh to himself because the sight is somewhat adorable. And he knows he shouldn't find it, he knows you're off limits because first, you're a mom from the school and two, you're married and have a kid. It's definitely not at all appropriate for his eyes to be roaming over your curves or to linger over the light glittering in your eyes.

Get a hold of yourself, he mentally whacks the back of his head.

“Where’s the little munchkin?” Kuroo asks you once you’re all settled after having been wheedled by Hinata to stay (“please please please you did such a great job on the cake” is what he’d begged). You’re now perched onto a plush lounge chair, a mixture of juice and vodka in your hand and watching the nth match of pingpong between someone whose name you forget and the other whose name sounds like Daichi. Though yoj might be wrong.

You’re glad for Kuroo’s presence, for even if he is a stranger, he still feels familiar to you right now in this setting.

“Sakura’s with her father today,” you explain with a slight smile in hopes it doesn’t give any of that bitterness away.

Kuroo opens his mouth like he wants so say something — anything— but you beat him to it, “we’re not together. Not anymore.”

His eyes widen with realization and you see it, the way he’s putting all the puzzle pieces together, “I’m sorry to hear,” is what he finally musters.

“Nothing be to be sorry about.”

“So… the name Kosuke…”

“Is my maiden name,” you reply, “I’ve never changed names. Looking back, I think I’ve done the right thing.”

Kuroo isn’t sure whether he should be mad for you or hurt in your place. After all, who in their right mind would leave their wife and their toddler daughter?

He deals with little kids every day, so he knows exactly what they’re like on a daily basis, and it’s not easy.

“I’m sorry,” it seems that’s the only thing he knows how to say.

“Really,” you laugh at him, “how can you be sorry when it’s not even your fault?”

Kuroo shrugs and grins bashfully because yes, it’s true and he still doesn’t know what to say. So he decides to ask, “And Sakura… how is she?”

“She doesn’t realize it. She’s too young,” your smile fades slightly, “in a way, I hope that’s a good sign.”

His heart clenches at the thought of you raising this kid alone. He can’t even imagine it. It makes sympathy swim inside his chest like an ache he can’t quite ignore. The look on your face suggests that you’ve been let down and he has the sudden impulse to tell you that everything will be alright, will be okay.

But he can’t do that. You’ll think of him as a creep. So he bites his tongue and look away instead, at the war of pingpong ongoing between his two friends. In a way, he’s glad for the distraction as he sips on his beer.

“And you?” Your voice piping up surprises him. His eyes flit back to your face. You continue, “married? Engaged?”

Kuroo’s throat bobs as he chuckles, “no. None of that.”

“How come?” You take a sip of your cocktail, “you don’t seem like the type to wound up alone with a hundred cats.”

“No no,” he can’t help but laugh because one, you’re hella attractive to him; tiny and frail and looking like he can fit you in a box no problem and two; you’re actually entertaining to be around. Something that he’s found lacking in his previous dates, “I just didn’t find anyone special yet.”

“Well there's no rush,” you lift your cocktail as you speak, “and anyway, you’re still young. You should enjoy it while you can.”

“Young?” Kuroo’s face breaks into a grin as his golden orbs glimmer down at you, amused, “how old do you think I am?”

"Uhm--I don't know. Early twenties?"

"I'm twenty-five," he gives you a look, "how old are you?"

"Twenty-eight. Going on twenty-nine."

"You look like you've just gotten out of college though," Kuroo's smirk is visible even behind his beer as he chugs down most of his drink, "if I didn't know better, I'd say you and Sakura were sisters."

"Not even," you retort, "And excuse me, but you look younger than twenty-five."

"I make up for it in height," he peers down at you, "but I suppose you wouldn't understand that considering--"

Your arm whacks at his shoulder before you know it. A playful gesture surely, but one that you don't really use on your daughter's teachers. Let alone ones that have bulging muscles and a figure to die for. You stare at your hand for a long minute, your brain going blank, before your eyes whip up to his and horror seeps into your gaze.

"Oh my god!" you screech and recoil like he's the one that had slapped you, "I'm so sorry, I--It's just--automatic you know, my cousin--he's got the same humor and--well I--I'm really sorry--"

The guffaw that leaves Kuroo's mouth is so loud that it causes heads to turn, even the ones invested in the ping pong game. He bends over while holding his stomach and the initial panic that you have wears off upon seeing him look so joyously happy. You can't help but chuckle along.

"What?" you say when he's regained most of his breath, "what's so funny?"

"You are," he grins, before it turns mischievous, "senpai."

"Hey--now that's going a bit too far!"

You're not quite sure what time you get home that night. But you do know that you've gone to sleep with a smile on your face.

————

"Kuroo sensei! He stole my ball!"

A typical Monday morning where Kuroo is busy surveilling the fifth graders as they decided to play basketball during their free time. He's not one to deny such requests, actually enjoys watching them play and seeing them grow day by day, developing their techniques. But to say that he's a bit in the clouds would be an understatement.

"Kuroo sensei!"

He finally snaps back to reality. Blinks down at the tiny boy with the biggest scowl he's ever seen yet, "yes I'm sorry. What's wrong?"

"He stole my ball!" the young boy points at one of the chubby classmates who seems quite content in playing by himself, "and now he's saying that it was his!"

Kuroo can't help but raise a brow. He's taught that class before, knows exactly that the chubby little kid doesn't have that many friends, including the boy standing before him.

"I don't think he stole your ball."

It's a bold statement, but from the way the tiny student squirms and averts his gaze, Kuroo believes he is right, "but--but he did! He really did steal my ball!"

"I have an idea," Kuroo bends down to his height, not able to restrain the grin along his face at the pout forming on the student's lips, "why don't you go and play with him? He seems a bit lonely."

"Yeah that's because he never talks to anyone in class."

"Then why don't you be the first? hm?" he nudges the boy's shoulder, "show your class a good example. Come on."

With a bit more reassurance, the said student goes over and Kuroo watches fondly as the two exchange awkward greetings before the chubby student nods his head, glancing at his PE coach like he'd just dropped a bomb.

Five minutes later, they're playing together like best friends.

And Kuroo goes back to daydreaming.

He's not usually like this. So out of it, so inside his own head that he can't see the outside world. But ever since that party he's been wondering when's the next time he'd get to see you, to talk to you. Not just as Sakura's mum but as someone, maybe a friend. He's addicted to the way your eyes curve up before your lips are even drawn into a smile, like you're sharing a special secret with him before the world gets a flash of blinding white teeth. He enjoys watching you move about because you're just so tiny, holding cups with two hands and always having to tiptoe about to find stuff. But most of all, that conversation with you had him dreaming of more. He wants to know you, that initial curiosity turning to what he'd define as stupid infatuation.

Yes, Kuroo Tetsurou has a crush, and he's not quite sure how to feel about it.

"--Earth to Kuroo?"

He blinks. In front of him stands his colleague and friend Bokuto. Having faced each other off countlessly during their high school days, it was a miracle and lovely surprise to see him at the new year induction. Since then, they’d been a constant pair inside the school walls and creating assignments, organizing and coordinating events had never been so fun.

“Sorry,” he mumbles and rubs a hand over his face.

“You look like death, mate,” Bokuto leans on the fencing that separates the courts from the building, “why the long face?”

“Haven’t slept well,” Kuroo says, but he knows he’s not convincing when Bokuto’s eyebrows raise in question.

“You? Firm believer of 10hrs of sleep every day?” His friend shakes his head, “no way. Tell me what happened. What’s got you looking so dazed?”

“It’s noth—“ he halts. Maybe he can find some advice? Bokuto’s known for being a badass romantic after all. Maybe he can have something wise to say.

Like tell Kuroo you’re way out of his league and— what the hell is he even thinking, dating someone’s mom? Someone older than him, at that?

The words burst out of his mouth without warning:

“I think I like someone.”

Bokuto merely blinks. His face lights up, “well that explains it. Who?”

Kuroo’s arm swings to the back to scratch his neck, “it’s… one of the student’s mom’s.”

The last few words are said in a mumble, causing Bokuto to lean into his friend with a wide-eyed gaze, surprise flitting across his face when he realizes what Kuroo has just said.

“No,” the grey-haired man’s mouth turns into an “o” as he stares his friend down, “no way. Who?”

“I don’t think you know her. Sakura Kosuke?” Kuroo prompts.

“Sakura Kosuke…” Bokuto shakes his head in thought, “haven’t heard of that one. But—-Kuroo! I thought older women weren’t your style!”

“She’s not that old,” Kuroo’s face flames, “only by three years.”

"Who would've thought," Bokuto breathes out with a chuckle when a thought suddenly occurs to him, "wait-- it's not the chick who came by with the cake last weekend?"

Kuroo nods and awkwardly clears his throat, "yeah, the very same."

"Ha! If only I knew! I would've done my best to set you up!"

"It's not funny!"

But now that Bokuto has some leverage of information, he's definitely not going to let it go and Kuroo kind of regrets spilling the beans to him, of all people. That, and the probably fact that he’ll be spreading this news like wildfire across their friend group.

Thankfully, Kuroo’s schedule makes it that it’s hard to think about anything but work since midterm season is approaching for his other primary school colleagues. There’s after-school shows and events for every single activity and since he’s being asked to help for every single thing (because he’s the preschool teacher and, yeah! How come you don’t have any events planned for your preschoolers?!). Which means that he doesn’t have actual time to think about you, not even when he’s finally home and mustering up enough strength to brush his teeth, take a shower and dump himself in bed.

He does, however, collide head-first into you one week day as you’re hurrying out of the principal’s office, looking flustered and red-faced.

“Kosuke-san,” he takes a longing glance your rosy cheeks and felt his hand tingle with want. Just to see if it’s as soft as he imagines it to be? “You okay?”

“Kuroo sensei,” you run a hand through your locks and causing your hair to get even more disheveled, “hi, sorry— how are you? It’s been a while.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You’re looking a bit more greenish now that he sees you in the light.

“Yes I—“ your hands flutter up before you in an attempt to find an explanation, “—just came back from a meeting with Sakura’s teacher.”

“Oh?” Kuroo frowns, “what—nothing bad, I hope?”

“It’s just—well,” you try to chuckle but it comes out like a whimper, “apparently she got into a fight with one of the other girls in her class. Got a few injuries herself so…”

Your eyes are wet and it seems you’re half a second away from a breakdown. So it’s only natural for Kuroo to take a few steps closer to you before he whispers a soft, “hey hey, you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m sorry,” you take a shaky breath, “it’s just been a long, hard morning.”

“Yeah,” Kuroo bites onto his lower lip, not sure what to do to make things better as he watches your chest move up and down in staggered breaths.

That’s when an idea hits him. He makes a grab for the back of your elbow and the smallness, the thinness of your limb takes him be surprise as he steers you out of the corridor.

And when your wide eyes flutter up to his, he quickly says something along the lines of, “I know a place. It’ll make you feel better.”

That’s how he finds himself dragging you to the nearby coffee place he always frequents— called Espresso Block— a small vintage bakery run by none other than his good friend Osamu Miya, as part of his expansion branch from his onigiri restaurants.

"Y/N!" Osamu greets as soon as he spots your face trailing behind Kuroo's tall figure. He pushes the raven-haired man aside with impatience before sauntering over and wrapping you up in a bear hug.

"Osamu," you breathe in the scent of baked croissants lingering on his uniform, "you're choking me."

"Oh--sorry," he drops you and grins sheepishly, that is before he registers that you're together with one of his friends, causing his eyes to narrow, "how do you two know each other?"

"Kosuke-san is Sakura's mother and she was having a bad day," Kuroo explains before he turns to you, "how do you know him?"

Did you imagine the five-second frostiness that came from his tone? Maybe not, as you reply, "he's my cousin. We grew up together. I taught him how to play volleyball back in primary school."

Kuroo's relief is instant. Thank god, it's not a close friend, nor is it a romantic partner candidate. His mood brightens instantly and without further ado he proceeds to lead you towards a table in the back.

He doesn’t fail to ignore the way Osamu’s eyes are following him all the way back to his table as he carries the two drinks — strawberry latte for him and a black coffee for you — and Kuroo can just hope that his dear friend can keep his distance until you've gone.

Becayse he's quite certain he will be subject to interrogation. Especially if you're that close to Osamu.

Placing the tray on the table, he takes out the mug and pushes it into your hands before finding his seat opposite you. You grab the cup between your two palms and take a deep breath as Kuroo sips on his latte.

The sweetness of the strawberry never disappoints. It’s refreshing and brings a smile to his lips. Osamu sure knows his desserts.

“I'm really sorry about what happened earlier," you seem to have composed yourself from earlier. You take a small sip of your coffee and Kuroo watches in amusement as you shudder.

"Do you want some milk with that?" he can't help but ask.

You nod and look shameful, and Kuroo's heart squeezes with sympathy. Your eyes are tinged with aprons of blue and there are tired lines lining your eyes and the corners of your mouth. It's only when he comes back -- from having gotten some steamed milk from Osamu and a suggestive wink to match -- you dip your head into a nod and mumble out a soft 'thanks', eyes glued to the way the dark brown turned into a creamy latte.

"You could've asked me for a latte," Kuroo smiled to show that he didn't mind at all. But you winced.

"I'm sorry--"

"Don't say sorry," he softened, "just--next time, you can tell me what you want, Kosuke-san. I'm not here to bite you...unless you want me to."

Your eyes flit up to his in surprise and Kuroo pinks at his words. They'd just slipped out on their own. It's not like he'd wanted to sound flirty when you're looking all shaky and worse for wear. He quickly clear his throat and tries to change the subject, "how are Sakura's injuries?"

"She's fine, got herself a bruised lip."

His eyebrows raise in surprise, "woah, that's still something."

"Yeah," you mutter and take another sip. And then another, "I hope this doesn't become a habit."

"I've taught Sakura since the start of this semester," Kuroo leans forward, elbows propped onto the table, "and I can tell you--she's anything but violent."

"I really hope you're right about this. I can't have her running around beating up everyone."

Kuroo stifled a small laugh, "to be honest, I think it's good she knows how to defend herself."

You shoot him a look and he can't help but laugh. And it's so contagious, the way it booms out of him like a melody, that you cannot restrain yourself from joining in.

"You're right," you say in-between chuckles.

"Maybe she got her mom's feisty spirit," Kuroo adds.

"No way. I was as silent as a mouse," you retort, "if she got anything like that, it's probably from her father's--"

You halt in mid-conversation, wanting to bite down your tongue for even mentioning him and quickly flash Kuroo a bashful smile in hopes he'll just brush it off, "sorry, let's not talk about him--"

"Kosuke-san, you really have to stop saying sorry all the time," Kuroo says with a grin, "it's not healthy."

"I know, I'm--" you catch yourself and he bursts out laughing once more at your face, "don't say it! No matter what!" he chides.

"Stop--" but you're grinning from ear to ear, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling, "--Kuroo sensei, I hope you're not as playful with your students or they'd never learn anything from you."

"Course not," he winks, "I keep that solely for the pretty ladies."

His suggestive tone makes you blush despite it all and you look down at your coffee with the blush blazing so hard across your cheeks you swear everyone can see its colour from afar.

"I don't know how it is at home though," Kuroo's voice brings you out of your small bubble of warmth, "it must be tough handling Sakura all alone. Do you ever take a break?"

"Well, she goes to see her dad ever two weeks. But other than that, she's always with me unless my parents decide to come over. Which isn't as often as I would like."

"Why's that?"

"They live in the countryside and have a farm. It's hard for them to take days off, and I don't blame them not wanting to be around," your voice lowers to a mutter at the last few words, "especially after what happened with the marriage and all..."

"Marriages fail every time," Kuroo says gently then, "that too, isn't your fault."

"I wish my parents believed that," you let out a small laugh, "but they're right. We were too young to get married."

"But you have Sakura right? Isn't she worth it?"

His eyes, golden flecked and filled with so much hope and softness, meet yours from across the table. You suddenly feel a bit hot in your seat, wanting to squirm as you quickly look away from Kuroo's gaze because dear god, it's almost like he's ripping away, ripping apart every single layer of self-protection and preservation and reading you out like an open book.

"You're right," you clear your throat upon realizing he'd still been waiting for your response, "she is worth every single second. I wouldn't change anything about what happened. I just--I wish my parents could see it that way too."

"I think you spend a little too much time stressing about things you can't control," Kuroo takes another sip of his latte, "how about you learn to let go a bit? Maybe take the day off? Go hiking?"

"With Sakura?" you shake your head, "impossible, I--"

"Surely you have someone that can take care of her while you're gone," he tilts his head, jaw resting into one of his hands and making him appear all the more handsome.

Your thoughts flash to Atsumu. He's right, you could technically take a day off by dropping Sakura with the blonde. But she's not his responsibility and Atsumu has other priorities in his life rather than hang out with his niece. But Kuroo's persistence is strong and he makes you -- practically orders you -- to text him when he connects the dots that you two are also family.

"That guy can learn a thing or two about being responsible anyway," grins Kuroo, "so I'm sure he won't mind."

————

How did you end up here?

That's the question you keep asking yourself -- even when you're busy picking out your clothes only to realize that you barely have anything that's worth 'party material', even when you're attempting to do your makeup even though it's been almost three (or four?) years since you've tried to look your best because Sakura's wellbeing always came first.

Even when you're strapping up your black ankle boots, the question is getting drilled into your brain like a broken mixtape as you wonder whether this is a good idea after all.

"Go," Atsumu is firm when you call him for the nth time. It's five minutes until Kuroo's supposed to pick you up and feeling the pressure on your shoulders, you quickly decide to call your cousin in an emergency, "you have to do it, y/n. Stop making this all about Sakura. You need to be happy too."

"I am happy," was what you'd mumbled out in the phone receiver. You don't realize how tightly you're gripping the phone, so tight that your knuckles have turned white.

"I know you are, but you'll be happier if you live for yourself. At least for one night," Atsumu responds, "and Sakura's safe with me. And if ever there's an issue I'll call Osamu first to--"

"What?! No! No you call me first, okay?"

"Y/n please just relax. It's supposed to be a fun night."

You slump against the wall in defeat, "I don't even know why I'm doing this," you mumble mostly to yourself, though you're certain he can hear it too, "there's no point trying to prove that I'm content with my life. There are things that are going to leave me unsatisfied. I'm--I was fine with that, really."

"Are you though?" your cousin's voice is accusatory this time, "you're ready to live just for Sakura? Making her happy will make you happy too? Is this how it's supposed to work?"

"Technically yes, I'm her mother--"

"--And you've been left behind!"

The words are like a slap. You bite down onto your lower lip.

It draws blood.

You hiss, sucking on the skin as the metallic taste hits your tongue.

In truth, Atsumu has a point. You can't just live to make Sakura happy because that will ultimately destroy you. Not because she's not the only thing you need in your life. But because despite having your little girl being the center of your world, despite being able to sustain her with your career, you still feel like it's just yesterday when Aoi had upped and left you. His excuses, as pathetic as they had been, were arrows shooting straight into your heart. He left you crying into your pillow that night, hovering over your figure until you'd told him to 'get lost or I'll call the cops on you' before curling up on the small couch that you'd gotten rid of once he'd moved out for good.

So much pain. So much pain and haunted nights and obstacles that had come your way. That, along with caring for Sakura, had been a big hurdle. You remembered the long mornings, how hard it had been to drag yourself out of bed for the first few days. Atsumu had volunteered to stay with you then, giving you all the support you needed until you'd had enough strength to get back on your feet.

So he knew exactly what you'd gone through. Had seen it all first-hand. He wasn't kidding when he said you really needed to get laid. Somehow, he seems to have a valid point.

But it's been so long since you've left the dating scene that the thought of it makes you want to vomit.

"I'm sorry y/n, that wasn't cool." Atsumu's voice flows through the receiver like a lullaby and you take a deep, staggering breath, "I just--I know how hard it's been pulling your weight and caring for Sakura. It practically consumed your entire life. It's about time you get that motherfucker back for screwing things up--"

"Language," you tsk at him.

"You know what I mean," he replies impatiently, "So go out there, have fun. Get smashed. And at least do something to make you happy for a change. Alright?"

"Yeah okay," you mumble.

"And plus, you're with a bunch of guys that I know. They're cool. They'll keep an eye on you."

"Thanks mom."

"Anytime hun."

You can't help but giggle before you hear a car pulling up outside, "alright. I think my ride's here."

"Yeah, try to get laid okay--"

"Atsumu!" your cheeks flame, "I hope you're not saying all this in front of Sakura!"

A burst of laughter echoes from the receiver, "don't worry, miss Sakura is asleep. Have fun y/n! Take pictures!"

The drive there is less awkward than you'd imagined it to be, despite the fact that Kuroo's get-up does make your mouth salivate. And not just you. You realize a bunch of girls have him on their radar, from the stolen glances driven his way as you follow his broad back out of the parking and into the small terrace-looking entrance flanked by colored glowing palm trees.

"I haven't been in a club for like four years," you confess to him as you trudge into the queue. The air smells like cigarette and smoke. And something else. Something dangerous. It makes you giddy, you realize.

"Four years?" his eyes grow round as he looks down at you, "you have drunk before right? To the brink of passing out?"

"Like...maybe four years ago?"

His mouth opens, then closes. He shakes his head, a smile curving at the edges of his lips, "remind me not to drown you with tequila."

"I'll try my best."

You meet the rest of the gang upon stumbling into the club. It's dark and pulsating with music, with two dance floors separated by the DJ stationed on a platform right in the middle. Lights are bouncing off the space like crazy and all around you are moving bodies that writh and mold together until you're not sure where one ends and the other begins.

“Y/N! You’re here!” A drunk Hinata hooks an arm around your shoulder before steering you towards the bar, “you’re just in time! We were going for a round of lambos.”

“Lambos?” You balk and meet Kuroo’s eye, “you mean— Lamborgini’s?”

“Hell yeah!” Another one of the guys chimes in. It’s almost comical, the way they’re all stumbling against each other as you move like a congregation until you’re straight up in front of the barman.

“Ten Lambo’s please!” Hinata slams his card ontot he counter.

It brings back a wave of nostalgia, seeing the line of glasses and the way the bartender drops the alcohol in like he can do it with his eyes closed. You’re jostled and pressed against warm chests and shoulders, surrounded from all sides and yet, you feel safe with them all. That is, until you feel a soft brush against your elbow.

You turn to see Kuroo’s warm golden orbs.

“All okay?” He mouths to you.

You nod and give him a smile in return, and the grin that he cracks makes a troop of butterflies swoop into your stomach.

You look away just as Hinata thrusts a glass into your hands, “come y/n! This one’s on me!”

One shot becomes two. And two become three. Soon enough you find yourself on the dance floor and moving to the beat with one of the girls from the group— Yachi?— while the guys are trying to pay each other back their shots. The music vibrates through the floor up your body and flood your veins so that you get lost in it, ecstasy and the thrill of just being alive finally gushing through your brain, fogged up and amplified by the alcohol in your bloodstream.

It’s amazing. You feel free. Like nothing can stop you.

It’s honestly the best you’ve felt in a while.

After a while, you and Yachi decide to take a well-deserved break, stumbling over to the clustered seating space filled with red cushions as the boys scatter to find more alcohol. At this point you’re surprised that they’re still moving around and conscious, considering the amount they’ve drunk.

One of the boys— the one with the kind smile called Daichi— offers to get you guys some water as you take a seat, allowing your tired legs to take a break.

“I’m going to fine Hinata!” Yachi says into your ear and you nod before ushering her out of your way. There’s something between those two, a kind of tension that will develop into something more if they just allow it.

But you’re not one to meddle, not when your own love life’s a mess.

That’s when you notice.

It’s the lingering stare out of the corner of your peripheral that makes you turn your head.

Then you see him.

A tall, lanky man. He’s seated right opposite you, a drink in his hand and taking a swig. But there’s no mistake, for when his eyes meet yours across the room you can only jolt in shock.

You look away with embarrassment and disgust. Heat spreads to the back of your neck and goosebumps run up your arms. Suddenly, it’s a little too cold in this hot, sweaty club.

Why is he looking at you like that?

There’s no mistaking the intention. You risk one more glance and confirm that indeed, there’s a darkness in his eyes; the kind of a predator.

The kind that wants to strip you bare.

It’s unsetttling, unnerving.

Disgusting.

You don’t even hesitate. It’s like instinct for you jump off your seat with the only purpose to find Kuroo. But to your terror, the man starts to follow you. And soon enough it becomes a game of catch: of cat and mouse. You almost trip over your high heels as you push through the moving bodies as quickly as you can.

But the figure is there, hovering over you like a dark shadow that causes your heart to clench.

You bite back a whimper, pushing through a throng of girls as you frantically search for a sign of Kuroo’s familiar mop of hair. Or Hinata’s. Or just about anyone for that matter—

Bumping into a chest, you’re more than surprised as you let out a small yelp only to hear a familiar alto.

“Kosuke-san, everything alright?”

“K—Kuroo sensei,” your mumble is drowned in the beats of the music, eyes darting between his face and the dodgy man.

He’s now standing by the bar a few feet away from you. The same kind of withering stare that makes you wince.

Hurriedly, you turn to Kuroo and grip his shirt, wanting nothing more than to hide behind him, “I—uhm— there’s someone—“ the words jumble up as they pour out of your mouth and you find you can do nothing but grip his shirt for dear life, like Kuroo’s the only thing that can help you out of here.

Thankfully, he seems to understand your dilemma, for he puts a hand on your shoulder before steering you a little closer to him and away from the main path, a frown evident on his face, “what’s wrong Kosuke-san?”

But it’s only when he follows your fear-stricken eyes that Kuroo realizes there’s something — someone tormenting you. He recognizes the dark hunger, the prowling intent.

Instantly, his hand grips your waist. Tugs you closer.

You stumble into him, “Kuroo sensei—“

But Kuroo’s not having it. He stares the man down with a glower, longer body practically wrapped around yours in a protective embrace as he dares the man to do something, anything.

Try me, his eyes are saying, you’re not going to lay a single hand on her.

The stranger finally breaks eye contact after a few beats of silence and Kuroo keeps watch, golden eyes blazing until the man is nothing more but a memory of smoke as he disappears into the crowd.

Only then does he allow his hold to relax. Tilting down towards you. He murmurs out softly:

“He’s gone, Kosuke-san.”

You’re practically glued to him at this point, face buried in his chest and hands gripping so tightly onto his shirt that you might’ve grown claws. Kuroo nudges you gently once more, and that’s when you look up from the depths of his shirt.

The sight makes him almost coo because goddamnit even in the dim disco lights you look adorable. He has the sudden urge to pinch your cheeks and he’s glad his hands are somewhat occupied along your waist.

“You okay?” Is what he whispers.

You nod, looking a bit shaky and green int the face, “yeah—I’m—I’m fine. Thank you. He was—it scared me.”

“I know,” Kuroo draws away ever so slightly so he can have a better look at your face, “I’ll bring you home, alright?”

“No no it’s okay,” you shake your head and attempt a smile, but even Kuroo can see past those shaky lips, “you stay and have fun. I’ll call an Uber and—“

“Nonsense,” he grabs your elbow once more, “I’ll accompany you. C’mon.”

———

It’s definitely unnerving. It leaves you shaking with fear and you’re thankful for Kuroo’s strong grip on your arm as he maneuvers you out of the club.

The rush of cold wind hits your cheeks, leaving the soft beats of the club behind. Slowly, the world comes back into focus as the air rushes through your lungs and the sound bustling traffic in the distance is brought back into focus.

Only then do you realize how close you’re standing to the coach.

With a start, you stumble away with a muttered “sorry”, not daring to meet his eyes while quickly brushing off your clothes because dear god you weren’t sure what to do with your hands.

The uber arrives without much delay — thankfully — and the ride home is silent, almost as if there’s an awkward tension that has settled between the two of you. Away from the alcohol and now sobering up, it’s impossible to ignore the fact that you’d practically glued yourself to this man earlier. The act is so embarrassing you decidedly keep your gaze on the flurry of bustling streets and dim lamps flying by.

You don’t realize you’ve dozed off until a warm hand is shaking your shoulder, followed by a soft; “we’re here.”

You gasp, noticing that you’ve been pressed against Kuroo’s shoulder all this time.

“Oh,” you scramble away as quick as lightning, “I’m so sorry—“

His lips quirk upwards, “no harm done, senpai.”

You hate it when he calls you that. It makes you sound… old.

Nevertheless, you decide to be quiet as he accompanies you up to your flat, hands in his pockets while following you up the rusty stairs. You hope he’s not judging; it’s not like you have unlimited amounts of funding, what with Sakura’s education and activities.

“Well,” you finally reach the door to your flat and turn on your heel so that you face him, “thanks… for everything.”

"No problem," he's smiling down at you. Still so patient, still so happy to help. Your heart swells in your chest and you ask, "how are you getting back?"

"Oh, probably Uber..." he trails off, already turning away to fish his phone out of his pocket, "it's not far."

"Where do you live?"

You almost bawk when he tells you his address, because it's practically at the other end of town. He'll be there in forty-five minutes, at least.

The words are automatic, shooting out of you, "I'm so--"

But Kuroo's hand whips out, clamping over your lips. Your eyes widen as you look up at him, only to see the young man grinning like there's no tomorrow.

"You really need to stop doing that," he finally says before drawing back. Already, you're hit with the cold air following Kuroo's touch upon your skin, "I wanted to accompany you. There's nothing to apologize for."

"I know, but--"

He throws you another pointed look that has you clamping down on your mouth. You're about to say sorry once more because you're being a pathetic blubbery mess, but the look in his eyes makes you say a soft, "thank you" instead.

"You're welcome," and with one final grin and a wave to match, the school Coach disappears down the corridor, leaving you gazing at his broad back until his silhouette turns the corner and away from your sight.

[beef-brisket]

Lucifer moved closer to Adam and hugged him.

He hated that he felt this way. And for what? Because a woman lost her baby one hundred or so years ago? Amd she was forcing innocent people to become hosts for her?

It was all a waste in the end. All of those people who got hurt or died weren't even close to being able to being a host for Eva.

Lucifer: I don't think you're a freak. Actually, you're one of the most normal people I've met in a long time.

Adam: ...Seriously?

Lucifer nodded: When I first got mixed up in this shit, I went to look for my wife, who had been missing. Turns out she's been held captive in some fucking house in Louisiana.

Adam: I've heard you mention that.

Lucifer: Yeah, well... you're more normal than those... that family. The mom was a bug nest. Literally. Right on the puss was a fuckimg wasps nest or some shit.

Adam: What the fuck?! That's disgusting!

Lucifer: Imagine being the one to fight her!? She was crawling on the ceiling! Shooting her puss bugs at me! And don't get me started on the dad. He wouldn't fucking die. I mangled his fucking brain and he still got up. The worst was their son. He was completely normal. He pretended to be under Eveline's control. But be wasn't. And... his dad... forced him to merge with him, to become something so... monstrous. Kid was an asshole, but I felt bad for him. Having to pretend he was one of them. Having to watch his family die and be replaced by what Eveline thought a family should be... it's sick. All of it.

Lucifer continued to talk about what he saw and killed those years ago. How it changed him. Changed Eve. Adam listened to all of it.

Adam: Do you think that's what's made Charlie different?

Lucifer: Hm? What do you mean?

Adam: Well... Eve was possessed by Eveline. That could affect Charlie's whole dna. And who knows what happened to you when you were knocked out on that boat. Besides, didn’t mom chop your hand off? And my sister and I stabbed you through the leg.

Lucifer: Wait- what? Do you think I've... got a parasite?

Adam laughed: No! No! There's two types of forms that the parasite can take. One looks like mine, a physical thing under the skin, affecting the nervous system and the brain. But then, there's the mold. It can't really survive here because it's too cold. But it's completely takes over the body. Till there's nothing left. It mimics everything. Blood, organs, the brain, memories- everything. Seems a bit weird that your hands fine after being cut off, don't you think?

Lucifer looked down at his hand. He's never thought about it. He just thought that the healing aid was just that good.

Lucifer: I... just thought that medical stuff was good?

Adam: Oh yeah. Really fucking good. I think Michael should do tests on you and Charlie. Especially you.

Lucifer rolled his eyes: He'd jump at that fucking chance...

Adam: Good. You're very interesting. So... he should test you. Like, for everything. Colonoscopy and everything!

Lucifer laughed and pushed Adam.

But this gave him something to think about. He never thought his healing was weird. He had a lot on his mind that he had never thought about it.

Lucifer: Yeah... maybe I'll get him to run some tests... I'm sure he'd love it... he's a real nerd for that shit...

Have you seen Resident Evil: Village? All I'm saying is Adam and Emily as two of the three sisters and Sera as Lady Dimitrescu.

Lucifer is Ethan trying to find Charlie.

At first, Adam was on his mother and sisters side- but because they have a weird thing against dudes, he eventually helps Lucifer.

Trust me, it feels illegal not to make Adam the stunning Lady Dimitrescu, but for story reasons, he'll be one of her kids.

I mean, their hot. What can I say? Adam would look great like this 🤷

Adam: Mmm- man flesh~.

Lucifer: ...Kinda gay, man.

Adam: It's not gay.

Lucifer: It is- man flesh? Really?

Adam: ...

Lucifer: ...

Adam: *stabs sickle into his leg and drags him away* Mother!

I have seen it! Ha I love this. ((Yes he'd rock being the Lady of the house 😩))

Lucifer: Ow!! What the fuck!?

Adam: It's not gay! Mother was right.

[pixeldolly]

The Sacrifice - Part 11 - The End

"How are they, Tess?"

"I've treated Roman's injuries and he's resting now. I've also given him antibiotics and painkillers, so he should be comfortable...as much as he can be, given the circumstances."

"As for Evelyn, I've done all I could for the moment, but we'll have to wait for the morning change before I can perform a full examination. Her wounds seem to be healing remarkably fast though."

"Is it because she's a werewolf?"

"Yes, although I do want to take a closer look at that bite, in case it's at risk of becoming infected. I admit I don't have any experience treating demon-inflicted wounds."

"They are prone to infection."

"I still can't wrap my head around the idea that anyone would do something like this! To their own child, no less!"

"It shocked me as well."

"You took such a risk in confronting her, Fiona! The inhabitants of the Hellplanes are not to be trifled with!"

"I'm aware of that, Dad. Would you rather I'd let Jacob and Evelyn go in there alone?"

"Of course not - what you did was very brave - but we can't help worrying. The whole thing could've gone so much worse."

"Well, it worked out fine, so you can let it go now."

It was Abby who brought the conversation back on track.

"Is Roman going to be all right?"

"Physically? Probably. He had a number of deep gashes that needed stitches, several broken bones including two ribs, a bruised lung, plus the...runes carved into his back, which will be uncomfortable for a while. Assuming there are no complications, these should heal in time."

"Mentally, it's a different matter. I'm not an expert, but I don't think the kind of trauma he's been through is something he'll be able to just shrug off. Speaking to therapist might help him."

"May we go in and see them?"

"You may, but just for a little while. Jacob is with Roman already; he hasn't left his bedside since I brought him back to the ward."

"Mr Stigfinnare is with his wife as well. He's been worried sick about her, prowling around the waiting room like a caged wolf."

"I'm surprised he didn't kick the door down."

"He might've done, if I hadn't let him in."

The trio - together with Ulf, who refused to be parted from Evelyn - gathered around Roman's bed.

Roman was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to sleep and forget, but he forced a smile on his face as he looked at each of the people who had risked their lives to save him.

In truth, he could hardly believe it.

"I don't know what to say. I owe you my life - no, more than my life. My soul. 'Thank you' doesn't seem like enough..."

"This is the second time I had to help save your ass, Turner! You'd better not make a habit out of it!"

Evelyn's cheerful tone helped defuse some of the tension, although Ulf kept his arm wrapped protectively around his wife. She was putting up a brave front, but he could tell she was hurting more than she was letting on. He hated it!

"It's over now."

"Maybe...maybe not."

"Fiona...? What do you mean?"

"The ritual circle carved into his back. The Nameless One may be have been banished, but those runes are magic. He's tied to the Hellplanes now."

"WHAT?!"

Roman sat up so fast that white stars burst before his eyes and his injuries flared painfully despite the medication keeping the worst of it at bay. He felt the cold panic rising like a tide.

"Are you saying it can come back?"

"Fuck. You're not, are you?"

"There are many doors between the planes, and things have a way of slipping through the cracks. That sigil is one such door; closed for the moment, but not locked."

"But you can remove it, right?! Or...render it inert, or something?"

"I...I'll do some research. Ask around."

Roman looked so crestfallen, Jacob's heart twinged in sympathy.

"Guys? Can you give us a moment, please?"

"Please try not to think about it, all right? If anything happens, my whole family are witches; they'll help. You need to focus on getting better."

Roman smiled humorlessly; it was hard not to think about the interdimensional door to Hell itself he carried around on his back, but he was so very tired. Sleep beckoned, demons or no demons.

But first, there was something he needed to say to Jacob.

"I have to admit, I didn't expect you to come to my rescue. Considering how things are between us..."

"Look, just because we broke up doesn't mean I don't still lo- care about you. Besides, I didn't actually do much, it was mostly Evelyn and Fiona."

"Still. Facing down demons and witches when you're just a regular person with no special powers took guts."

"I did have an axe."

Something happened then that Roman did not expect: he burst into laughter. Which hurt, but it was worth it, and his heart felt lighter for it.

"I think I'd like to sleep now..."

"Yes, you should. I'll be back to see you in the morning."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

As Roman sank into the cottonwool depths of drug-induced sleep, a smile fluttered on his lips.

The End!

Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the story!

[grahstumhurts]

Stressed out

Pt 1 of 2

A/N Still working on pt2 which will include smut, working on a couple other things so will be taking my time to make sure its good quality.

Request

Fluff

Lara x Megan x Biker Fem!Reader

Content - Cursing, elusion to sex

The way the wind feels when you are the only one on the road, it's ethereal. I blast my yearning playlist through my headphones. Currently on is “Dive” by Olivia Dean. I scream-sing down the highway, The dashboard clock screaming 1 am in my peripheral vision. My curfew set by Sophia had been Midnight after multiple late night rides. I pull off the highway into the streets of the neighbourhood, the streets eerily quiet and my bike's engine roaring through the streets. I turn off the engine and walk the bike up the driveway into the garage of the house, Where a very mad looking Lara and Megan appear in the doorway of the entrance to the inside of the house. I'm fucked.

“Where have you been?” Lara looks me up and down, checking me for any signs of a crash or a fight. “You do know you are one hour late, right?” 

“We literally had to force Sophia to sleep. She has an early morning tomorrow and you know how stressed she gets when you go out for late night rides like this.” Megan sighs as I pop the kickstand, pull off my helmet and  hang up both my jacket and helmet on the hanger next to the door.

“I know, But I've been stressed as well and this is one of the things that helps me ground myself.” I confess to the two of them “But I'm here right? Not damaged!” I stupidly grin at them, both looking very disappointed.

“Stressed about what exactly?” Megan asks as we step into the house, I slip off my shoes and kick them off to the side.

“It's nothing serious,” I try to brush it off. To be honest, I've been stressed about my feelings for them. Its not exactly a secret that I have a crush on both of them. I mean who wouldn't, right? Its Lara Raj and Megan Skiendiel, both very very attractive women with the gravitational pull of a fucking blackhole. It's pretty hard to NOT have a crush on them. 

“You know we are all here for you, whatever you wanna talk about.” Lara pushes a stray tuft of hair away from my face “Whenever you're ready to talk.” Lara sits next to me and puts her legs up on my lap. She suddenly sits up, seeming to have an epiphany of sorts.

“We’re still mad at you” She grips my chin, holding it in place to force me to make eye contact with her “Megan, you know how we should punish her?” She smirks at Megan who's leaning against the armrest of the couch

"I think i know some ways to teach her a lesson" Megan's hand slips onto my shoulder "Pretty thing isnt she?" She tucks my hair behind my ear.

"Such a shame that shes so," Lara pauses, "Naughty" She says it so perfectly, with a sultry voice one cant resist. She leans in closer to my ear, "You'll take what we give you right, Baby?" I nod eagerly, a sheen blush covering my cheeks.

"Good girl, YN" Megan runs a hand through my hair.

I'm definitely fucked tonight.

[airas-story]

Maybe sick fic(let) if you haven’t done one already? One of them gets sick & is being stubborn about it, the other forces them to rest & takes care of them

I really didn't mean to stay away for so long! It was a weird October for me, and then half of November was gone before I even realized! But I'm back!

Tony is in Australia when Wong calls him. “What?” Tony snaps, exhausted and annoyed at being woken up at 3.36 in the morning. 

“If you don’t come and deal with your husband, I’m going to murder him,” Wong informs him, annoyance and concern mixing in strange harmony. “He’s going to pass out if he doesn’t slow down. But, as always, he thinks he knows best. Apparently he’s not sick.” Wong scoffs. “As though a fever of 102 is nothing.”

Tony groans. “If I send you a picture will you open me up a portal?” he asks. 

Two minutes later, Tony is stepping into the Sanctum. Wong points him towards the library before heading in the opposite direction with a huff.

Stephen, when Tony finds him, is huddled over a book; he’s wearing Tony’s MIT hoodie. Tony debates how to deal with this. Finally, he sighs and coughs, trudging in Stephen’s direction sluggishly. “Hey Stephen,” Tony says, aiming for a congested sniffle at the end.

Stephen looks up, eyes bleary and brows furrowed in concern. “Tony?” he asks. “Are you okay?”

“Sick,” Tony complains. He makes sure he looks pathetic. “Had to come home early.” He makes his eyes wide and pitiful.

Stephen stands up immediately, swaying a little. “You should be in bed,” he says.

Tony nods. If Stephen were less sick himself, he’d be suspicious of Tony’s easy compliance. “Come sleep with me?” he asks. He suspects all he needs to do is get Stephen in bed and Stephen’s own exhaustion will take care of the rest. Once there, Tony can put a foolproof plan in place to keep Stephen there until healthy.

But for now, Stephen is predictable. He might not go to bed for himself, but he will for Tony.

Tony’s never had a problem playing dirty.

[constellama]

For how little I talk about Orange I actually think about him a lot, which means I have so many fun concepts for him, so I present to you,

Headcanons/Theories/Concepts about Orange that don’t all make sense but are fun to think about anyway (aka, me rambling about Orange):

(also short disclaimer please don’t take this too seriously I am not any sort of expert in media analysis or anything this is just for silliness)

- I’m mainly going into this with the theory that Orange is some kind of form of externalization, whether that be wrath or just forbidden emotions in general. Honestly my opinion of what he represents is still kinda nebulous but like. Please don’t leave I promise I have good ideas.

- From what we saw with Logan, I think Orange’s abilities might be some form of enhancing the others’ emotions— forcibly externalizing them in some way. There’s so much tension between the other sides, what with Logan wanting to be listened to, Patton never sharing how he feels, Roman still clinging on to Thomas’s selflessness, and idek how this is all affecting Virgil. Not to mention Nico is in the mix. Orange is gonna somehow force the others to actually talk about their feelings. Basically, Janus can force the others to shut up, so what if Orange can do the opposite? (trust me this can only go well and nothing bad will happen)

- We already know Thomas’s perception of the dark sides tends to be what he thinks is “bad” or the opposite of good, like Janus being portrayed as a snake because of snakes’ reputation in Catholicism. I think it would be fun if Orange also leaned into the religious imagery. What I’m saying is that I think Orange should have goat motifs. Please. Goats are animals also associated with the devil and sin and if Thomas believes that whatever Orange represents is “evil” in the same way he initially thought Janus and Remus were evil, then it makes sense he may subconsciously see him that way. But like, this is mainly because I want orange to be a silly goat. Give that man rectangular pupils please it’s beneficial to my mental health.

- We still know next to nothing about Orange’s personality so this is where it really gets fun! I want to believe Orange is cold. Cold, calculated, a completely icy demeanor. More on his relationship with Logan here, idk if this is an unpopular opinion but I don’t think Orange has much to do with Logan at all. I don’t think they’re as connected as we think, actually. I think the only reason we see orange manifest with Logan is just because Logan happened to be the first person he got to. If anything, Logan now knows to avoid whatever brought him on, which we see in the gift exchange episode when he shuts down Remus after he said “Kinda makes you wanna scream, huh?”

- Adding on from the last part ☝️ I think it would be really funny if Orange got to Roman next. It would be completely unpredicted and with how vulnerable Roman is, he’d be forced to come to terms with the fact that not everything is black and white. Let him have ugly emotions and put a mirror in front of him, if you will.

- ok this is so unorganized but back to Orange’s personality, I think he should be completely devoid of emotions. Analytical in every way Logan wants to be. Idk how to explain this part but his emotions are outside of him, externalization in the way his emotions are external and forced out of the others. This isn’t saying he’s possessing them, but more like he’s an empath. An empath if he was evil but not really. I sound insane but I swear it makes sense.

- also as a bonus, there’s this fun hc that I have (I promise this has to do with Orange) but we know Virgil’s name is a sensitive subject for him. We also know the dark sides like to take advantage of that. And it’s so deliberate in a way that makes me think there’s more to it. SO HEAR ME OUT. You know how Virgil’s name was taken from the Roman poet Vergilius? What if that was his actual full name. What if when he separated himself from the dark sides, he cut off the “ius” because he felt it associated him with them. He told the others they can call him “Virge” as a nickname so they had no reason to assume Virgil was already a nickname. Now imagine that when we meet Orange, because he needs to sides to externalize everything, he refers to Virgil as Vergilius. Yippee more tension for everyone!! Another thing the sides have to discuss as a way to fully come to terms with the fact that they have to communicate and let Thomas breathe!!!

If you made it to the end of this post!!! What !!!! Ty for reading my silly rambles, reminder that none of this is serious, this is entirely for fun and also probably doesn’t entirely make sense. (I tried to make this as coherent as I could). I doubt that any of this is going to end up canon, but the concepts are fun to think about !!

[kiyomitakada]

Light stalks into the hotel room at 1 a.m. It's November 12th already.

They called his mom earlier. He'd almost forgotten, in the midst of it all. Light told her the truth — or as close to the truth as he could get, anyway. The raid. The gunshot wounds. The blood loss. His words came out odd and robotic, which was bad, because it was suspicious. He wasn't sure why he wasn't projecting emotion right.

Aizawa and Ide kept sneaking glances at him through the whole thing. They weren't subtle. Matsuda wasn't either, but at least there was only sympathy in his eyes. Misa held his hand through it all, tracing circles with her thumb. The touch was repulsive. He's pretty sure he'd dug his nails into her palm, considering how hard he'd gripped her hand back, but she hadn't complained a bit.

Sachiko cried. Misa cried, too, even though Dad had never been her father. It felt like an insult to Soichiro Yagami's memory that Light couldn't make the tears come out of his own eyes. He was usually so good at faking it. The dryness felt damning.

"I'll arrange the funeral," he said.

"I'll fly over right away," his mom answered quickly. "I'll get Sayu—"

"No!" He lurched out of his seat without meaning to, then fell back. "Don't tell Sayu."

Aizawa and Ide eyed each other again. He wanted to kill them all.

"We'll have to at some point," his mom said gently.

"I know," Light said. He swallowed. "But Mom, neither of you can come. It won't be safe here. You rented the countryside house for a reason, right? You both have to stay put for now. Mello is still active."

He hoped she would argue. She didn't. "Alright," she said softly. "But you tell me if you need anything, okay, Light?"

"Okay," Light said, and the rest of the conversation was logistics.

It's almost half past one in the morning now. The task force is asleep. Misa is, too, on one of the twin beds they pushed together. He thinks about writing down all the criminals he can in one night and murdering everyone in the building and jumping off the hotel balcony.

"Ryuk," he says instead, as he sits down on the edge of the other bed.

"Yeah?"

He tries to laugh. It comes out wrong, too, but not as badly as the earlier attempt at tears had. "It's funny, isn't it?"

"Wow, Light, I didn't think you were that cold," Ryuk remarks.

"It's just," Light says, "that he only lived one day after trading for the eyes. So even if he hadn't… I guess he wouldn't have stayed alive that long anyway."

Ryuk frowns. "Huh? I don't get it."

"The eyes take away half of your remaining lifespan, right? And Dad wasn't killed by the Death Note, so that really was his natural lifespan. Which means, since he died after one day, he was only going to live two days if he hadn't traded."

It should be a relief. It is a relief. It's not Light's fault. Soichiro Yagami was going to die anyway.

"Wrong," Ryuk says.

Light flinches backwards. It's been five years, but sometimes Ryuk's smile still scares him. "What do you mean, wrong?"

"Welllll… maybe wrong? I dunno, actually." Ryuk scratches his chin with one claw. "Yeah, maybe you're right. I haven't looked at the rules in forever."

"Ryuk, what are you talking about?"

"See, I'm not sure if that half is from how long you would've lived without the Death Note, or if it's from your new lifespan after you get the Death Note."

Light gapes at him. "It's obviously the second one!"

"That's the funny thing, Light-o," Ryuk says, and grins. "You can't know how long someone's gonna live if they have the Death Note. It's impossible. That's why you can't see the numbers over the heads of Death Note owners."

"But — Misa traded half her life away," Light says. "Twice. So it can't be her original lifespan, since that stalker was going to kill her."

Ryuk shrugs. "Who knows? Maybe she's been trading halves of zero this whole time."

"That's… No," Light says. He doesn't notice the way his fingers tighten around his grip on the thin hotel sheets. "No. That would be stupid."

"It is stupid," Ryuk agrees. "You're probably right."

"I'm definitely right." Breathe in. Breathe out. "So you don't know how much time you got from Dad — from my father?"

"No clue," Ryuk says cheerfully. "But it's okay. I've killed oodles of regular people, so I should still have a lot of life left to go."

Light abruptly, desperately hates him.

"I'm going to bed," he says. "Talk to you in the morning."

"Cool," Ryuk says. "I'll go sightseeing."

---

a/n: happy 11/11 :)

[laxmiree]

[CN] MLQC Lucien’s 2024 Birthday Story - First Snow Wish Translation

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

This post contains a detailed spoiler for a story that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

Lucien’s 2024 CN Birthday Event (Golden Love Ratio)✧ Birthday Story (You’re here!) | Birthday Prologue + Birthday Date | ASMR | Birthday Party

Of course, he would have his parents live there too, reserving the biggest and most beautiful research room for them.

That way, Mom and Dad wouldn't have to go to the laboratory anymore.

When that time came, he would invent a machine that could make things easier for his parents, so they wouldn't have to be so busy and could spend more time with him.

Translation under the cut!

This year’s theme is “childhood dreams,” so the pre-evolve CG depicts the dreams the boys had as children about what they would be like as adults. Along with the usual birthday R&S-style story, there’s also a chibi event story.

The R&S-style story focuses on his birthday as a child (possibly his 5th birthday, since his 6th is already covered in his 3rd birthday R&S). Meanwhile, the chibi event explores the dream he has. As for translating the chibi events... let’s see if I will have time🤧

[Birthday Story - First Snow Wish]

Loveland City has reached late autumn, but the first snow has yet to arrive.

A little boy sat at his desk, leafing through a thick science magazine and occasionally glancing out at the cold weather outside. At this hour, Mom and Dad should be coming home soon.

As if confirming his intuition, he soon heard the sound of the door lock turning downstairs. The boy's eyes lit up instantly as he dashed out of his room, quickly bouncing down the stairs, where he saw his mom and dad at the entrance, taking off their coats. His dad was holding a box of videotapes, while his mom carried a cake box.

"Happy birthday, my precious! Your dad and I brought a movie on videotape. We think you'll really like it! Want to watch it together?" Mom said, smiling as she hung up her coat and took the boy's hand.

"And besides the cake—" Dad winked mysteriously, "I'm going to show off my skills today and cook a feast for you and your mom."

[T/N: His Mom called him 宝贝 (bǎobèi) 🥺 It's not a loanword from the English "baby," but rather a Chinese term of endearment that literally means "treasure" or "precious one." I translate this word as “my precious” to attempt to capture this nuance.]

In the living room, the television hummed softly. Mom carefully adjusted the VCR, making sure the picture was clear. Dad carried the boy to the sofa and meticulously covered him with a blanket.

The videotape started to play, and a snow-covered castle appeared on the screen. The boy sat between his parents, his small hands holding a steaming plate of dumplings, completely absorbed in the story unfolding on the screen.

[Notes from Lux: The dumplings!!!🤧 reminds me of his first CNY SSR when he asked MC to teach him how to make dumplings 🥺]

The inventor in the movie was creating all sorts of wonderful machines in his castle: flying bicycles, talking teapots, and even a machine that could make rainbows. The boy's eyes widened greatly as he watched these bizarre arrays of fantastical inventions.

"Mom and Dad, will your lab be able to make such magical things in the future?”

Dad laughed cheerfully. "The magic of science is that it can make seemingly impossible things possible. Just like the inventor in the movie, we are also pursuing new discoveries."

"But what's even more magical," he added, "is that... son, whatever you like, Mom and Dad will work hard to make it a reality."

The boy raised his eyebrow a bit skeptically, but he didn’t rush to voice the question in his mind. However, his expression was keenly noticed by his mom, and he felt the gentle touch of her hand on his hair.

"My precious, whether it's science or life, the driving force behind everything is the simplest ‘love’."

Before they knew it, snow began to fall over the small town in the movie, as the film was drawing to a close. The boy contentedly looked at his parents, but then from the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the fresh snowflakes drifting down outside the window. It was the first snow of the year.

"Let's go out and take a look, we can even build a snowman~" Before the boy could even speak, his mom had already read his mind and gave his dad a meaningful glance.

So Dad immediately got up and found scarves and gloves for the three of them. First, he carefully helped the boy put on his hat and tied his scarf, then he wrapped Mom in her favorite warm-colored scarf. Once the three of them were all bundled up, they excitedly headed out the door.

A thin, delicate layer of white snow had already accumulated in the courtyard, glimmering faintly under the streetlight. The boy couldn’t wait to dash into the yard. He reached out his small hands to catch the falling snowflakes, watching them quietly melt in his palms, and let out a laugh of delighted surprise.

Dad squatted down and started building a small snowman. “Come, let’s give it a big belly together.” The boy and his mom joined in, working together seamlessly: the father took charge of building the main body, the mother shaped and refined it, while the boy was responsible for “dressing up” the snowman.

"We should use these for its eyes!" The boy picked up two small pebbles and solemnly pressed them onto the snowman's face.

"What about the nose?" Mom asked.

"How about a carrot? Just like in the movie."

Dad immediately ran home to get a carrot and also brought out one of his old hats. It seems that as long as it’s something the boy imagines, they’ll do their best to make it come true in real life.

"Hmm... it also needs a lab coat, so it looks like the inventor in the movie." The boy examined the snowman quite seriously, just as he saw his mother, unable to hold back a smile, take off her own scarf and attentively wrap it around the snowman's neck.

As the curtain of night began to descend, snowflakes continued to drift down quietly. The snowman stood alone in the snow, wearing Dad's hat and wrapped in Mom's scarf. The boy thought of the grand castle from the movie and the inventor's lone and busy figure in the laboratory.

A tiny hope suddenly welled up from the bottom of his heart. How wonderful it would be if he could live in a place like that when he grew up, surrounded by fantastic inventions, with snow always visible outside the window. Of course, he would have his parents live there too, reserving the biggest and most beautiful research room for them. That way, Mom and Dad wouldn't have to go to the laboratory anymore.

The boy pondered, his eyes gradually lighting up. When that time came, he would invent a machine that could make things easier for his parents, so they wouldn't have to be so busy and could spend more time with him.

However, if he became a scientist like his parents, he could not only explore more of the unknown in the world, but also become as capable as them and help them solve difficult problems at work.

[Notes from Lux: In other words, becoming an inventor was his ‘selfish’ dream, stemming from his desire to spend more time with his parents. However, he also always wants to follow in his parents' footsteps and be a scientist, that way, he can also help them 🤧]

The bright moonlight illuminated the piling snow in the courtyard, casting a long and slender shadow of the snowman across the ground. The boy looked up at the gently falling snowflakes, feeling they were like powdered sugar sprinkled from the sky.

So he caught some of the "powdered sugar" with his gloves and ran toward his parents. Although he hadn’t yet decided on his dreams, he wanted to keep this feeling in his heart forever.

Because more precious than any dream is this snowy night, his parents' smiles, and the small world that belongs to the three of them.