#jorge is evil for that one

[jiilll]

So……….. who’s also sobbing over the underworld saga (‘:

[fauvester]

“we’re not going to make dannymanny kids” i lie

[alias-sam]

Jelly fish. It’s the jelly fish piss drinking.

There was a moment when I was explaining the scene out of context to a friend that I realized: damn I’ve become desensitized to all this.

[foreveia]

palentine’s day ⤨ kuroo tetsuro

⨭ genre; fluff, childhood best friends!trope, valentine’s day special!

⨭ pairing; kuroo tetsuro x fem!reader

⨭ word count; 18.5k

⨭ description; kuroo suggests a “palentine’s day” when you both admit to being adults with no sense of a love life on valentine’s. that being said, obviously he becomes yours.

⨭ warnings; profanity, alcohol, suggestive dialogue

⨭ a/n; guys i made this over the course of like one day. it's literally NOT proofread at all (i am not sober rn and will do so tomorrow morning) so if ur early, deal with it. jk thank u so much for reading my bullshit on ur valentine's if ur reading this also check out 'in full bloom' aka pt 1 of my valentines gift to tumblr

song i listened to writing this: 'pretty in pink' by lostboycrow

one.

JFK stands for ‘John F. Kennedy’ International Airport, but as you wait in the masses outside the pick-up zone, you can’t help thinking that it should really stand for ‘Just Fucking Kill’ yourself.

You tend to avoid the airport as much as humanly possible since TSA agents are evil and you always get lost, but today, you’re forced to be here: Kuroo’s flight lands in ten minutes, and he whined so much about the cost of an Uber to your apartment that you finally gave in and agreed to pick him up yourself.

Predictably, you’re already regretting it.

The arrivals area is a literal zoo: people standing way too close, aggressively waving handmade signs that say things like Welcome home, Papa! and Jorge & Melissa 4Ever!, and a seemingly endless stream of passengers getting on and off flights. A man in a suit shoves past you, nearly smacking you in the face with the obscenely large bouquet of roses he’s carrying, and an elderly woman parks herself directly in front of you with a luggage cart, as if she has no idea that you exist. Meanwhile, Kuroo is nowhere in sight.

Leaning back against a pillar, you sigh and clutch your coat tighter around yourself, because despite being a major international airport, JFK still hasn’t figured out how to keep the cold air from blasting in through the automatic doors. The little icon next to Kuroo’s flight says baggage claim, which means you probably have another fifteen minutes before he actually appears—maybe more, if he’s being slow (which he always is).

You pull up your messages.

(3:27 PM) y/n: hurry up tetsu: awh, miss me? 😘 y/n: keep it up and i’m leaving without u

Shoving your hands back into your coat pockets does little to restore warmth, and the irritation building in your chest isn’t helping. You should’ve just let him suffer through the Uber surge pricing. He deserves it: you’re already letting him crash at your place for the week, rent-free.

Your phone buzzes again.

(3:32 PM) tetsu: omw. don’t leave me 🥺 tetsu: remember when u were a baby and followed me everywhere?

You scoff, choosing not to dignify that text with a response.

What a bitch. It’s been years since you last saw him, ever since you moved to NYC for your PhD and he stayed in Japan to work for the JVA, but some things never change: he’s still the same guy who kept you humble your whole childhood, who was your older brother’s—and by extension, yours—sole and only friend, who was the coolest person you knew as a kid because he was in second grade and you were still a kindergartener. You grew out of it by the time you both hit middle school (though he, unfortunately, never grew out of reminding you).

And now he’s here, in your city for a full two weeks as he promotes some upcoming tournament. You guys call semi-regularly, but it really is different when he’s here in real life and in person, because you can no longer just hang up when he starts to get annoying. 

That’s when a pair of arms suddenly loop around your waist.

A startled jolt runs through you, heart seizing in your chest before the familiar scent of his overpriced department store cologne registers. Funny how smells bring back memories; he’s been using the same Armani Acqua Di Gio bottle since your undergrad years (you’re both shocked and impressed that he hasn’t finished it yet). His arms squeeze lightly, then drop away.

“Hi, babyface,” he coos, smirking.

Spinning around, you glare at him for still clinging to that dumbass childhood nickname—he overheard your parents call you that literally once, and has insisted on it ever since. He’s probably the sole person left in the world who refers to you that way, but whatever—you’ll tolerate it for two weeks.

Kuroo stands there, dragging a comically oversized suitcase behind him. Honestly, he doesn’t look all that different from the last time you saw him, three years ago when he and Kenma sent you off at Haneda Airport. He’s still got the same stupidly tall frame, same messy bedhead that somehow makes him look effortlessly cool instead of disheveled and gross, like it should.

But he’s older now. More… grown up. His face is leaner, more refined, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners when he smirks, as smug as always. It’s not that he’s annoyingly attractive, you tell yourself: his confidence is just so in-your-face, it’s impossible not to notice.

“Took you long enough,” you huff, crossing your arms.

He holds up a paper cup from some overpriced coffee joint inside the airport. “In my defense, I needed this. Been up since three in the morning.”

“Oh, poor you.” You roll your eyes. “Let’s just go. I’m sick of this crowd.”

“You Kozumes are all the same,” he grins, but when you turn to lead the way, he swings an arm around your shoulders with easy familiarity, guiding you through the herd of people clamoring for their reunions. The crush of bodies is suffocating—someone smacks into your elbow with a backpack, and you shoot them a dirty look. Kuroo just laughs and steers you closer to him, like he’s shielding you from a crowd of middle schoolers who haven’t learned personal space.

“Where’re you parked?” he asks, glancing around. The overhead speakers crackle as an announcement for a flight to Chicago booms through the terminal.

“Garage 4,” you say, just loud enough to be heard over the noise. “It’s, like, a mile from here, so get ready to hike.”

“Sounds like fun,” he drawls. “Can’t wait.”

A scoff slips out, but the tug at the corner of your mouth betrays you—there’s something about him that makes you nostalgic for days when running around after him and your brother was your favorite activity. You guess old habits die hard; he still reaches back when you fall behind, still makes sure you’re not lost in the crowd.

When you finally reach the elevator, the two of you squeeze in with half a dozen other travelers plus an extremely disgruntled-looking airport employee. Kuroo tries to maneuver his luggage behind him without bumping everyone’s ankles, which, of course, is a losing battle.

“Sorry,” you mutter to the group while jabbing the button for the garage level.

The elevator lurches upward. From the corner of your eye, you catch Kuroo’s sideways grin.

“What’re you staring at?” you ask after a moment, realizing his gaze is fixed on you.

His lips twitch. “You. I haven’t seen you in forever, remember? Trying to see what’s changed.”

You resist the urge to smack him because this space is way too cramped for violence. “What’s changed is that I have zero tolerance for your bullshit now.”

He lets out a loud laugh, drawing a few curious glances from the other passengers that should make him feel more embarrassed than it does. “Sure, you do,” he murmurs, leaning in. “That’s why you came to pick me up, right?”

“I should’ve let you take the subway. You’re lucky I’m so kind and benevolent.”

Unfazed, he grins. “I’m very lucky,” he agrees, voice dropping an octave that sends a weird heat through your cheeks.

Thankfully, the elevator dings and the doors slide open, saving you from having to come up with a retort.

Stepping into the parking garage, the cold air slams into you instantly—JFK has no business being this miserable in February. Tucking your chin deeper into your coat, you exhale sharply and brace yourself against the wind.

Kuroo whistles low under his breath, dragging his suitcase along the pavement with a clatter. “Damn. This city really doesn’t give a shit about warmth, huh?”

“Welcome to New York,” you deadpan. “Now shut up and walk faster before I lose feeling in my fingers.”

He chuckles, shoving one hand into his coat pocket while gripping his suitcase handle with the other. You can hear the low hum of an airplane overhead, the distant honking of taxis below, the way his footsteps fall in sync with yours. It’s strange—how easily he slots back in, like no time has passed at all.

Your car is parked at the far end of the lot, tucked between an SUV and a sedan that’s way too close to the line. “There,” you say, pointing.

Kuroo groans. “You weren’t kidding about the hike.”

You ignore him, fishing your keys from your pocket as you approach the driver’s side. “Just get in, princess. Your chariot awaits.”

He snorts but doesn’t argue, tossing his suitcase into the trunk before sliding into the passenger seat. The moment you settle in behind the wheel, you blast the heater, letting the warmth seep back into your body. Kuroo exhales in exaggerated pleasure.

“Ah, yes,” he sighs, holding his hands up to the vents. “This is the hospitality I deserve.”

You shoot him a look as you adjust the side mirrors. “Buckle your seatbelt. I wanna go.”

“So eager to get me home already? At least buy me dinner first.”

“Get out.”

Kuroo smirks, clicking his seatbelt into place. “Not a chance—you’re stuck with me now, babyface.”

And you just sigh and kick your car into gear, promptly backing up and heading out of the maze of a parking lot, because even if you were to argue, it would be a lie. You’ve been stuck with him for almost two decades, and whether for better or for worse (definitely for worse), you don’t see that changing anytime soon.

two.

Your apartment building’s leasing office has plastered pink and red hearts on just about every open space in the hallway, so it’s safe to say that you’re slightly annoyed as you lug Kuroo’s freakishly huge suitcase to the door of your flat. The wheels squeak in protest, and you’re 99% sure you hear something clanking around inside—like maybe he’s sneaking free weights in there, or some equally ridiculous item you’re going to have to store somewhere in your already-cramped closet.

“Seriously,” you grumble, pausing to readjust your grip, “what did you pack? An entire gym? A small car? Did you kidnap Bokuto or something?”

Kuroo, trailing behind you with his coffee cup that’s somehow still not finished yet, lets out an overdramatic groan. “Oh, come on. I need my suits, my shoes, and, of course, my extremely heavy hair-care products. Gotta keep this—” he gestures at the bedhead that somehow counts as a hairstyle for him “—looking flawless for the cameras.”

“You’re insufferable,” you say.

“It’s okay,” Kuroo replies, stepping around a giant pink heart taped to the floor. “You love me anyway.”

You roll your eyes, key in hand as you finally reach your door. Jamming the key into the lock and wriggling it furiously, you mutter, “I can’t believe I’m letting you stay with me. Your fancy JVA job couldn’t get you a hotel?”

“They could, but the Marriott doesn’t have you,” he says proudly as you drag the suitcase over the threshold and inside your apartment, propping the door open with your hip. “I’d rather stay with my darling friend in her little one-bedroom place on the Upper East Side.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes again—half because you’re exhausted, half because your heart is doing that annoying stutter-step in your chest, and you really don’t want to analyze why. Instead, you drop your keys on the small side table by the door and flick on the overhead light.

“Make yourself at home,” you say, and the words come out more begrudging than you intend. Despite this, he kicks off his shoes very casually, setting his half-empty coffee on your kitchen counter and taking a quick scan of the place. Inside, your apartment is as cozy as ever—small, but comfortable, and the warmth from your radiator is a welcome contrast to the drafty hallway. You drop the suitcase in the living area, exhaling with relief.

He smirks, reaching out to flick one of the pink paper hearts taped to your kitchen cabinet. “Didn’t know you were such a fan of love.”

“The leasing office gets way too into seasonal themes. They gave us all these cut-out hearts to tape up, like we’re in grade school,” you scoff, crossing your arms. “I figured it was better to play along than have them slip passive-aggressive notes under my door.”

“Ah, yes, the joys of city living,” he intones. He peels one heart off the cabinet and sticks it onto his own chest like a ridiculous badge. How appropriate.

“The bathroom’s down the hall to the right. Towels are in the cabinet.” You pause momentarily, considering. “Do you think you can fit on the couch?”

Kuroo regards the couch in question—lumpy cushions, old springs, barely big enough for someone your size—then flicks his eyes to you, expression dry as if to say obviously not. In truth, you aren’t totally surprised. He’s always been freakishly tall, and the piece of furniture doubling as your “guest bed” is basically a glorified loveseat.

“Uh,” you say, slightly distracted as you take in the way his broad shoulders fill your kitchen, “maybe if you sleep diagonally, you could?”

He gives you a slow, sarcastic clap. “Wow, babyface. Thank you for that helpful geometry lesson.”

Your cheeks warm, partly in annoyance and partly because something about him looking so large in your space sets your nerves on edge. “Well, then I don’t know what to tell you,” you mumble. “Unless you wanna sleep standing up against the wall.”

Kuroo crosses his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow. “That’s not exactly comfortable, either.”

You throw up your hands. “Then what do you expect me to do? I only have a full-sized bed in my room, and that’s barely big enough for—” You stop yourself, but it’s too late. You can practically see the grin forming on his lips.

“Oh?” He shifts his weight, the corners of his mouth tilting upward. “I don’t mind sharing. We used to all the time.”

You open your mouth to retort, but no sound comes out. You can’t deny that a part of you has already considered this possibility. Sure, you’ve known him forever, but the last time you shared a bed, Kenma was also there, and you were eleven-years-old having a sleepover because you were all way too invested in Monsters, Inc.—very different from sharing a bed with him now. 

“Tetsu,” you start, forcing yourself to sound composed, “my bed is also a tight squeeze. There’s no guarantee we’ll both fit comfortably.”

Kuroo shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’m not picky. I can do my best to take up minimal space.”

You snort. “You? Minimizing anything? Please.”

He laughs, and the rich sound echoes in your small living area. “I’m not that tall.”

“Pretty close,” you counter. “But fine.” You exhale, feeling the weight of two weeks’ worth of future awkwardness settle on your shoulders. “If you promise not to kick me in your sleep, you can share the bed.”

He smiles with infuriating smugness, like he’s won some big debate or secured a massive deal. “Noted. No kicking, no thrashing. I can be a good boy when I need to.”

At that, you turn away and take a sip of your water, because if you let yourself stare at him any longer, you’ll start overthinking everything (you already are). Like how you’re going to handle waking up next to him. Or how it’ll feel if one of you accidentally rolls over onto the other in the middle of the night. 

“Go shower. You reek,” you say instead, tersely and very much avoiding eye contact. 

Kuroo salutes you with two fingers. “Yes, ma’am.” He starts unzipping his massive suitcase, rummaging around for clothes. When he locates what looks like sleepwear, he straightens and tosses them over one arm. “I’ll be quick. Don’t fall asleep before I get back.”

“Yeah, sure,” you say, heart still fluttering at the reality of what you’ve just agreed to. 

You’re about to share a bed with your old friend—your insufferable old friend, who shows up with enough luggage to stock a small department store, calls you babyface, and then makes your heartbeat skip whenever he so much as looks at you a certain way.

So in other words, you think you’re probably fucked.

three.

He emerges from the bathroom a little while later, hair damp, wearing a rumpled t-shirt and basketball shorts that show off way too much of his long legs. You pretend you don’t notice. In the meantime, you’ve perched on the edge of your bed—both of your bed, you remind yourself, trying not to linger on that detail—flipping through your phone for the best takeout options.

“You hungry?” you ask, keeping your voice casual. “I’m too tired to cook.”

Kuroo sets his towel on the back of a chair and rubs at his damp hair a final time. “Absolutely. I owe you for picking me up anyway. Let me buy dinner.”

“Deal,” you say, pulling up a nearby Mexican joint’s online menu—you can almost taste the cilantro and lime already. “I vote burritos. Guac and chips on the side. Whaddya think?”

He moves to sit beside you on the mattress, leaning in to read the menu on your phone. Your shoulders nearly brush, and you feel a flicker of awareness at the close proximity. 

“Let’s do it,” he says. “I’m a sucker for a good burrito. Extra beans, though, or it’s not worth it.”

You snort, tapping in your order. “Fine. But don’t complain if you regret it later.”

He laughs proudly. “I have no regrets. Order some chips and salsa, too.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling as you finalize your selections on the app. “Fried plantains or no? They have them here.”

“Absolutely. Throw ‘em in.”

Satisfied, you place the order. “Alright, burritos en route. They said it’ll be here in about twenty-five minutes.”

Kuroo drops onto his back for a moment, groaning dramatically into one of your pillows. “I might not last that long.”

“Quit being dramatic or I’ll eat your half when it arrives.”

He pops back up, smirking. “You’d miss me if I starved to death.”

“Sure,” you say dryly, setting your phone aside and hugging your knees to your chest, getting comfortable. “Anyway, what’s been up with you lately? Aside from the glorious JVA life. You haven’t actually told me much.”

Kuroo shifts, propping himself up on one elbow, humming nonchalantly. “Mostly traveling, setting up events. Lately it’s been a lot of PR for an upcoming international tournament—making sponsor deals, meeting with potential partners, that sort of thing. It’s never-ending.”

“Sounds exhausting,” you say, and mean it. “But you seem to thrive on that chaos.”

He smiles. “I like keeping busy, yeah. What about you? Kenma mentioned something about you publishing an article in a big journal.”

A self-conscious warmth settles in your chest. “It’s not that big,” you insist. “Just a decent academic journal. But yeah, I’m pretty proud. Trying to balance that with my research duties and teaching labs at university is… a lot.”

He bumps your shoulder gently with his own. “Still, that’s impressive. Your parents must be bragging left and right.”

You exhale, a small smile tugging at your lips. “They are. Kenma, too, apparently.”

“He’s proud,” Kuroo confirms, then yawns. “Man, I’m wiped. But I gotta stay conscious long enough to demolish this burrito.”

As if on cue, there’s a buzz from your phone. You glance down to see a delivery notification: Your order is arriving soon.

“Perfect,” you murmur. “I’ll grab it in a minute. Might as well eat in here—it’s more comfortable than the couch.”

He grins, reaching to grab his wallet from his bag and handing you a few twenty-dollar bills. “I’m not opposed to an in-bed picnic.”

A few minutes later, you’re answering the knock at your door. Your hallway briefly fills with the mouthwatering scent of fresh tortillas and spices; you’re only realising now that this is practically the only thing you’ve had all day. Once you pay the delivery person, you lug the paper bag back to the bedroom. Kuroo shifts to sit cross-legged, making space for the containers between you.

“Dig in,” he says, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

You unwrap your burrito, steam curling upward, and suddenly you’re reminded of all those nights you spent eating junk food with him and Kenma back in Tokyo—late-night convenience store runs, microwaved meals shared on the couch while you watched random movies. It feels oddly nostalgic; you almost want to put on Shrek 2 (the best one) just for the sake of it.

“Mm,” you manage around a mouthful of seasoned rice and beans. “That’s gas.”

Kuroo tears into his own burrito, letting out a satisfied hum. “New York burritos aren’t half bad. Who knew?”

You smirk. “They’re still not exactly authentic, but they’re decent. We have some good Mexican places nearby—if you stick around long enough, I’ll take you to this hole-in-the-wall joint in Queens that’s even better.”

He perks up. “You sure know how to show a guy a good time.” Then he gestures at one of the pink hearts still taped to your wall. “Speaking of good times, we got Valentine’s Day coming up, right?”

You pause, taking a sip of your soda to stall, humming. “Yeah, next week. Not exactly my favorite holiday.”

“You doing anything?” he asks, fishing out a chip to scoop some guacamole.

You shrug, eyes fixed on your burrito. “No. I’m, uh… single. So it’ll just be another Tuesday for me. Maybe a glass of wine and some Netflix.”

He nods slowly, as if absorbing that information. “Right. Me too, actually. Single, I mean.”

You hazard a glance at him. “Really? I figured you’d have someone lined up,” you tease, trying to keep your tone light. “You’re always bragging about how charming you are.”

He snorts, looking faintly amused. “No takers at the moment, guess I gotta step up my game.” Then he sets his burrito down, brushing stray bits of rice from his fingers. “Honestly, though, I’m not looking to date just anybody. I’m picky.”

The confession sends a flicker of warmth through you. Don’t read into it, you warn yourself. “Well, guess that means we’ll both be alone on V-Day.”

Kuroo’s face brightens with an idea. “Doesn’t have to be alone-alone. We should hang out! Watch a movie, go ice-skating, corny shit like that. We’re in New York City, after all.”

Your stomach does a little flip, and you hope he can’t see the sudden rush of heat in your cheeks. “You want to hang out with me on Valentine’s Day?”

He shrugs, looking casual, but there’s a softness in his eyes. “Why not? Better than moping around separately. We can do the whole anti-Valentine’s vibe. Or, y’know, a Palentine’s Day.”

“Palentine’s Day,” you echo, rolling the phrase around. Part of you wants to jump at the chance, but you’re also cautious—because this is Kuroo. Kuroo, who’s seen you when you were still climbing into Kenma’s bed every time you had a nightmare. Kuroo, who carried you home on his back when you twisted your ankle playing tag at the park. Kuroo, who knows about every embarrassing photo of you in your entire house and is featured in practically half of them. 

Kuroo, who was your first childhood crush, who took you to your senior year formal, who still makes your heart stutter like no one else.

Jesus fuck.

“Sure,” you say at last, trying to sound nonchalant. “That could be fun. As long as you’re not too busy with your JVA stuff.”

He offers a crooked grin, the one that always makes your pulse pick up. “I’ll make time. Promise.”

A comfortable silence settles between you, broken only by the sound of wrappers crinkling and the hum of traffic outside. You focus on your burrito, but every so often, you peek at him from the corner of your eye—how his long lashes cast faint shadows on his cheekbones, how he smirks just before taking another bite.

When you finally polish off the last of your dinner, you exhale in satisfaction, leaning back against the headboard. Kuroo does the same, patting his stomach. “That really hit the spot,” he says. “Might have to get seconds tomorrow.”

“We can’t keep eating like this,” you tease, crumpling up your napkin. “We’ll both end up broke, living off takeout.”

He shrugs one shoulder. “Worse ways to go, babyface.”

You give him a mock glare, but you can’t hide your faint grin. Babyface. Somehow, it doesn’t annoy you the way it used to. Maybe it’s the nostalgia, you think, or maybe you’re just too used to it by now.

“Anyway,” he adds, glancing at the clock on his phone, “you ready to crash? ‘Cause I’m about to pass out any second.”

A twinge of nervous excitement flutters in your chest. You’d momentarily forgotten the whole bed situation. You clear your throat, stacking up the empty takeout containers so you can toss them. “Yeah, I guess so. Let’s clean this up, then… bed.”

He nods, stretching his arms overhead. His shirt lifts slightly, revealing a sliver of toned abdomen, and you quickly look away, pretending to focus on tidying up. Two weeks, you remind yourself. He’ll only be here for two weeks, and then things go back to normal—whatever normal means when it comes to the two of you.

But for now, as you glance up to see him smiling at you—fond, amused, and something else you can’t quite name—you have the strangest feeling that nothing about this trip will be normal. And you’re not sure if that terrifies you or thrills you.

Considering it’s Kuroo, the answer is probably both.

four.

As it turns out, Kuroo lied about being a supposed ‘good boy’, because he grabs just about everything in his sleep, including your comforter, your pillow, and you.

The first thing you notice upon waking is that your arm is asleep—completely, pins-and-needles numb. The second thing you notice is that it’s probably because Kuroo is draped all over you like an overgrown cat: one arm slung across your waist, a leg hooking over yours, and his face half-buried in the pillow you share.

It’s still early. The faint gray glow of dawn filters through your curtains, and the radiator in the corner hisses quietly, pushing lukewarm air into the room. You try to move—gently, so you don’t jostle him too much—but his grip tightens reflexively, pulling you closer.

Your pulse hammers a little faster. Not exactly the start to the morning you pictured when you offered to share a bed. Hesitantly, you lay there, blinking sleep from your eyes as you let the situation sink in. On one hand, he’s so much warmer than the drafty air swirling around you. On the other… well, this is Kuroo.  

He shifts in his sleep, mumbling something unintelligible. You can’t help noticing how his dark hair flops forward onto his forehead, or how his breathing sounds steady, almost comforting against your ear. A little flutter stirs in your chest, and you decide it’s definitely the awkwardness. Or maybe hunger. Definitely not anything else.

You inch your free arm over to nudge him carefully in the side. “Hey,” you whisper, cringing at how scratchy your morning voice sounds, “mind letting me breathe?”

He stirs again, blinking blearily. When he opens his eyes, for a split second, he looks adorably confused—like he’s forgotten where he is. Then the realization dawns, and a slow, smug grin spreads across his face.

“Mornin’,” he drawls, voice husky from sleep. And he still doesn’t move his arm.

You clear your throat, refusing to let your face heat up too obviously. “Care to explain why you’re suffocating me?”

“Am I?” he says, sounding wholly unrepentant. “Sorry, babyface. Didn’t realize you were so delicate.”

Rolling your eyes, you lift your numb arm and give him another nudge. “At least release my limbs so I can feel them again.”

He finally relents, scooting back a few inches but still remaining obnoxiously close, the mattress dipping under his weight. You sit up, wincing at the twinge in your shoulder, and rub at the pins-and-needles sensation. Meanwhile, Kuroo stretches luxuriously, arms overhead, shirt riding up just a fraction.

“Not a bad night’s sleep,” he remarks, yawning. “This bed’s cozier than it looks.”

“No thanks to you,” you grumble, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. Despite your best efforts to stay composed, you can’t quite suppress a tiny shiver at the morning chill. “Next time, keep your limbs to yourself.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault you make a great pillow,” he counters, smirking.

Before you can toss a pillow at him in retaliation, your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You reach over, scanning the screen: a news alert and an email from your department. With a sigh, you set it aside for now.

You flick your gaze back to him, noticing how the sunlight is slowly brightening the angles of his face. “What’s your schedule like today?” you ask, if only to give yourself something normal to focus on.

He scrubs a hand through his sleep-mussed hair—somehow, it still looks frustratingly cool—and shrugs. “Meeting at noon with the local organizers. Press conference in the late afternoon. After that, I’m free.”

“Alright,” you say, pushing yourself off the bed. “I have a lab to teach at eleven, so I’ll be gone most of the morning and early afternoon. I’ll give you a spare key in case you need to step out while I’m gone—just don’t get lost.”

“Aw, you’re giving me a key to your place?” His grin turns positively wolfish. “This relationship is moving so fast.”

You scowl, but the corners of your mouth twitch. “Shut up,” you say, grabbing a sweatshirt from a nearby chair and tugging it on. “I’ll make coffee, then we can figure out breakfast.”

Behind you, you hear the creak of the bed as Kuroo stands. “Coffee sounds great,” he says, padding after you. “But only if you have the good stuff. None of that cheap instant brand.”

He catches up to you in the hallway, and for a moment, you’re hyper aware of how tall he is, how his eyes are still a bit sleepy, how your bedhead probably resembles a hedgehog. Yet, there’s a comforting ease in the way he fits into your space—like he’s been here a hundred times before, even though it’s been years since you last lived in the same city.

You toss him a lazy glare over your shoulder. “You’re lucky I still have some leftover beans from when Kenma visited. Otherwise, you’d be stuck with the dreaded instant.”

Kuroo feigns a dramatic shudder, but his grin stays easy. As you flick on the kitchen lights, he leans against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. It strikes you again how right he looks here, in your cramped little kitchen, sporting wrinkled sleep clothes and bed hair you’d tease him about if he didn’t look so… comfortable.

“By the way,” he says, voice lower, still thick with morning grogginess. “Thanks for letting me crash here. And, y’know… for not kicking me out of bed for being grabby.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you say, ignoring the warmth creeping into your cheeks as you fill the kettle with water. “Tonight, you stick to your side, got it?”

“Scout’s honor.” He raises three fingers in a mock salute, the picture of insincerity.

You roll your eyes and turn on the stove, waiting for the water to boil. He shuffles a little closer, peering at the kettle. He’s definitely invading your personal space again, but maybe you’re starting to get used to it, if the jump in your heartbeat is anything to go by.

It’s a strange, domestic moment: you, still half-asleep, and Kuroo, leaning in with his arms caging you in, braced on the kitchen counter, with the faint hum of traffic outside. Despite the tingle in your arm and the slight ache in your stiff neck, you realize you don’t hate the idea of waking up like this. For once, you’re not quite as alone in the big city, you justify to yourself. 

He meets your gaze, one brow raised. “What’re you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” you say quickly, dropping your eyes to the kettle. “Just that the coffee needs to hurry up or I’m gonna be late.”

He chuckles, the soft rumble filling the space. “Sure, sure.”

But he doesn’t push, just stays close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off him. And for now—just this once—you decide to let it be.

five.

Kuroo looks unfairly good in a suit.

You realise this while you’re curled up on your couch, half-watching the new season of Single’s Inferno on your TV and half-dozing off with a bowl of stale popcorn balanced on your lap. The door swings open without so much as a warning knock—typical—and then there he is, in all his post-press-conference glory: crisp blazer, tailored trousers, tie loosened just enough to give off a casual but effortlessly hot vibe.

Your stomach does a funny little flip. It’s probably the stale popcorn.

“Hey,” he says, shutting the door behind him with a nudge of his shoulder. “You look cozy.”

“I am cozy,” you huff, wriggling deeper into your throw blanket. You drop a piece of popcorn into your mouth and make a face when it crunches unpleasantly. “You look… fancy.”

He glances down at his outfit, as if he’s just remembered it exists. “Right. Forgot I was still wearing this.” A small smirk crosses his face. “Didn’t want to keep the fans waiting, so I came straight from the conference.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m sure your admirers really appreciated that.”

“Jealous?” he teases, toeing off his polished dress shoes. His shirt collar gapes slightly as he unbuttons the top, revealing a sliver of skin at his throat. Annoyingly distracting, even after all these years.

You pointedly look back at the TV, where two contestants are locked in a tense conversation about who picked whom for a date. “Not even remotely.”

“Ouch,” he says, sounding mock-offended. “And here I was, about to tell you that I saved you some fancy hors d’oeuvres from the event. But if you’re not interested—”

You sit up immediately, dislodging your popcorn bowl. “Wait. Real food?”

Kuroo snickers, pulling a napkin-wrapped bundle from his pocket. He tosses it onto the coffee table with a flourish. “Straight from the VIP section. Mini sliders and some kind of salmon tartare thing.”

You snatch it up without hesitation, peeling back the napkin to inspect the offerings. “See, this is why I tolerate you.”

“Tolerate?” He feigns a dramatic gasp. “Babyface, we’ve been through too much for that kind of slander.”

You grunt, already stuffing a mini slider into your mouth. “I don’t know. If I remember correctly, you used to tie my shoelaces together and push me into Kenma just to watch me trip.”

Kuroo grins, unbothered. “Building character.”

“Being an ass.”

“Tomato, tomahto,” he singsongs, shrugging out of his blazer. As he drapes it over the back of the couch and rolls up his sleeves, you glance at him from the corner of your eye, trying not to be obvious about it. 

Because it’s unfair, really. He’s always been annoyingly attractive, but there’s something different about seeing him like this—sleeves rolled up to his forearms, tie loose, like he’s caught between polished professionalism and the boy you used to know.

Kuroo flops down next to you, stretching out his long legs. “You know,” he muses, “you’re getting a little too comfortable trash-talking your own husband.”

You freeze mid-chew. “Excuse me?”

His smirk widens. “Our wedding? First grade? Ring any bells?”

You roll your eyes, but your stomach flutters treacherously. “Oh my god, not this again.”

“Oh, yes, this again.” He props his chin on his hand, clearly reveling in your reaction. “It was a beautiful ceremony. You wore that little yellow dress with the flowers on it, I looked dashing in my Spider-Man t-shirt, and Kenma officiated with a Pokémon book instead of a Bible. Very classy.”

You scoff, tossing a balled-up napkin at him. “It was a fake wedding.”

“That’s not what you said at the time,” he counters, smug. “You said we’d be married forever.”

You glare at him, but warmth is creeping into your cheeks. “I was six.”

“And yet,” he hums, leaning back against the couch, “you still haven’t divorced me.”

You want to argue. You really do. But the memory of that afternoon—standing in your backyard, clutching a dandelion bouquet while Kuroo grinned at you with all the unearned confidence of an eight-year-old—unfolds so vividly in your mind that you go momentarily speechless.

It’s stupid how much of that day you remember. How he laced his fingers with yours, grinning like he had just won something. How Kenma droned through a “ceremony” while barely looking up from his Game Boy. How, when it was over, Kuroo had squeezed your hand and whispered, Guess that means you’re stuck with me now, huh?

He’d been right, even if you both did eventually grow up and start dating around. And yet, as you sit here—knees almost touching on your too-small couch, the memory of that dandelion bouquet and his smug, gap-toothed grin dangling in the air—you realize there’s a piece of you that never truly left that backyard.

You swallow the last bit of the mini-slider, hoping it’ll ground you. “So,” you say, feigning a dismissive shrug, “we grew up. We definitely child-broke-up.”

Kuroo’s dark eyes glint with amusement as he shifts his weight, the couch cushions dipping under his long frame. “Mm, I don’t recall signing any annulment papers. Actually, I can’t recall you ever giving me back my ring.” He holds up his left hand to wriggle his empty ring finger. “I guess I should’ve at least invested in a proper Band-Aid ring for you.”

You make a face, ignoring how your heart lurches at the implied you he keeps tossing out, like he’s reminding you this is your story—both of yours. “Band-Aid ring, huh? How romantic. You really know how to woo a girl.”

“You always did love Pokémon bandages. Remember how you insisted on Bulbasaur for every scrape?” There’s an unmistakable fondness in his tone, and you wonder if he’s indulging in the same wave of nostalgia that’s been drowning you since you let him through the door.

Trying not to give yourself away, you tilt your head, pretending to examine him. “I see your memory is as annoyingly perfect as ever.”

He flashes a grin. “I have an eye for important details—like your shoe size, your favorite weird pizza topping combo, and the fact that you still haven’t actually denied liking me.”

You snort, heat creeping up your neck. “In your dreams, Tetsu. Where do you get off assuming things, anyway?”

He spreads his hands, tie swaying lightly at his chest. “Can you blame me? You did let me crash at your place. You drove all the way to JFK in rush-hour traffic just to pick me up. If that’s not love, I’m not sure what is.”

You open your mouth to argue but close it again when you realize you’ve got nothing. Yes, you did pick him up. Yes, you did offer him half your bed. And yes, some traitorous part of you is glad he’s here, sprawled out in your living room, reminding you of all the reasons you used to practically worship him when you were a kid.

“You’re insufferable,” you say finally, in a voice so soft it barely carries any bite.

Kuroo chuckles, shifting so he’s angled toward you—elbow braced on the back of the couch, one long leg tucked underneath the other. “Goes both ways, babyface. You’ve always driven me insane.”

The word always lingers in the space between you.

You try to distract yourself by flicking the TV volume higher, but the dating show is a blur. “So how was the press conference?” you ask, setting the empty napkin aside. “Any major breakthroughs? More sponsors falling for your cheesy grin?”

His responding laugh is short, a bit self-conscious. “You know how it is: they ask the same questions—how the tournament’s being organized, who our top competitors are. I say the same rehearsed lines. Then I shake some hands and get out.”

“Bet you loved the attention, though,” you tease, nudging his ankle with your foot.

“Of course,” he deadpans, “you know me too well.”

A quiet pause descends as you both sink further into the cushions. The overhead lamp is dim, casting long shadows on the walls. It feels intimate—too intimate, almost. A far cry from the raucous energy of the press conference he must’ve attended.

“Do you…” You’re not sure why you’re hesitating. Maybe it’s the sudden vulnerability creeping in at the edges of your rib cage. “Do you ever miss being a kid? Everything felt simpler back then.”

His gaze settles on you, something soft reflecting in his eyes. “Yeah. A lot, actually.” He reaches out—hesitates for a second—then pokes the side of your thigh. “But I’m glad some things haven’t changed.”

Your breath catches. “Like what?”

A beat. Then: “Like you still call me out on my bullshit. You’ll still eat half my food if given the chance. You still follow your own weird rules—like never paying for Netflix because you say you can mooch off Kenma forever.” He grins. “And you still look at me the same way. Even if you won’t admit it.”

He doesn’t elaborate further, and you’re too caught off guard to pry. Look at him the same way—what does that mean, exactly? You’re suddenly hyperaware of how close he is, how he’s studying you in the dim light, how the old tether between you two has always refused to snap, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it.

“Anyway,” he says, shifting back with a little exhale, “got any more of that stale popcorn? I’m starving.”

You clear your throat, trying not to sound frazzled. “Go for it, but don’t complain when it tastes like cardboard.”

He leans over, snagging the bowl from the couch cushion and taking a bite. “Mmm, delicious cardboard.”

His faux-enthusiasm makes you roll your eyes—again. But there’s a familiar warmth curling in your stomach, almost like relief that this little moment is yours to share. Like you’ve both come home, just for a second, to the world you used to know.

You let the show drone on in the background while the two of you work through the stale popcorn in comfortable silence. Every now and then, one of you drops a sarcastic remark or a joke about the contestants on-screen. But beneath the banter, there’s something else stirring—a question you’re not sure either of you is ready to ask.

For now, you settle for glancing sideways at him, at the way his profile looks against the glow of the TV. You let yourself wonder, just briefly, what it would mean to take that childhood promise seriously again. And though you push the thought away almost as quickly as it comes, there’s no denying the giddy little thrill that runs through you when you realize Kuroo might be thinking the exact same thing.

six.

Three days later, it’s the weekend, and you’re free of labs and classes. So obviously, that’s the night Kuroo manages to wheedle you into going to one of his PR parties—with obviously, a Valentine’s theme because the entity in the sky hates you. 

“I still can’t believe I agreed to this,” you say in slight disbelief as you wait in the lobby of your apartment for your Lyft. You’re just the slightest bit wine tipsy already and are stumbling a tad bit on your three-inch heels. Kuroo stabilises you with an arm, pulling you into him. 

“You’re such a lightweight,” he says, amused. 

You scowl at him, nudging your heel against the toe of his polished dress shoe. “Says the guy who made me do a round of shots before we even left.”

Kuroo lifts his free hand in mock surrender, though the grin playing on his lips betrays zero remorse. “Hey, I never forced anything. You’re the one who decided it’d be a good idea to keep up with me.”

“You can probably metabolize alcohol through sheer arrogance alone,” you mutter, leaning into him a bit more when your heel wobbles on the slick tile. The building’s lobby has a floor so shiny you can see your own reflection. You catch sight of how red your cheeks look—definitely from the wine.

He snorts, sliding his arm more securely around your waist. “Arrogance is a powerful superpower.”

Before you can retort, the Lyft driver texts that they’ve arrived, and you and Kuroo shuffle through the lobby’s sliding doors. The crisp February air slaps you in the face, clearing some of the pinot-fueled haze from your head.

“God,” you hiss, crossing your arms over your chest as you walk up to the waiting car. “Why does it feel like it’s negative a thousand degrees out here?”

Kuroo hums sympathetically, tugging you close so you can huddle in his warmth. “Isn’t it romantic? Attending a Valentine’s party in frigid weather, half-tipsy, with your beloved husband—”

You jab him in the ribs. “Do. Not. Start.”

“Ow.” He laughs, not sounding at all wounded, and opens the car door for you. “Alright, princess, let’s get you warmed up.”

You slide into the backseat, tucking your purse by your feet. Kuroo follows, closing the door. The car smells faintly of peppermint and some floral air freshener, and the driver has a local pop station on low volume.

“Party tonight, huh?” the driver says, catching a glimpse of your outfits in the rearview mirror. “Happy early Valentine’s Day.”

You force a polite smile. “Yeah, it’s a work thing for… him.” You gesture vaguely at Kuroo, who’s already fiddling with the seatbelt.

Kuroo pipes up, flashing an easy grin. “She’s being modest. She’s the star of the show.”

You give him a side-eye, but your stomach flips a little at how casually he includes you in his world. “I’m definitely just background noise. He’s the big fancy PR guy.”

He drapes an arm across the back of the seat, leaning in with that smug energy you always pretend to hate. “C’mon, babyface, we both know you’re the real highlight.”

The driver chuckles to himself at your banter and pulls out onto the main road.

The city lights blur by, and despite the wine, you’re keyed-up enough to notice just how close Kuroo is. His thigh presses against yours as the car bumps over a pothole, and you catch his scent—still that overpriced cologne. You almost tease him for using the same brand since undergrad, but some part of you likes the familiarity too much to make fun of it.

Kuroo scrolls through his phone—likely checking last-minute details for the event—and you let your gaze wander. You wonder what you’re walking into: a Valentine’s-themed volleyball PR party probably means pink cocktails, goofy heart-shaped decorations, and sponsors angling to chat up Kuroo for new deals.

You sigh softly, leaning back into the seat. At least you’re not teaching labs tomorrow.

Feeling your eyes on him, Kuroo pockets his phone and glances over. “You okay?” he asks, voice quieter so the driver can’t overhear. “Too tipsy?”

“Barely,” you lie. “I’m fine.”

He studies you for a moment, then nods. “If you get overwhelmed or bored, just say the word, and I’ll whisk you out of there.”

Your heart does that unfortunate flip again. “I won’t hold you back from schmoozing with your sponsors,” you say, trying to sound casual.

Kuroo just shrugs. “Eh. The only person I really need to impress is right here.”

He grins when you roll your eyes for the millionth time, but there’s a note of sincerity in his gaze that makes your pulse stutter uncontrollably (and feeling less and less like it’s the wine).

seven.

The Lyft pulls up to a sleek downtown hotel with a bright red banner above the entrance: Welcome, Pre-Valentine’s Volleyball Gala! The curbside is abuzz with people stepping out of taxis and rideshares, all dressed in varying degrees of fancy.

You thank the driver and step out. Immediately, the cold hits you again, but Kuroo’s hand is there, steady at your back. Together, you make your way through the glass doors into the lobby, which is decked out in pink and red balloons. You spot a heart-shaped ice sculpture near the reception desk and suppress a grimace.

“This is… a lot,” you say under your breath, scanning the crowd. Everyone seems to be brandishing name tags and sipping champagne. A table off to the side offers color-coded wristbands for something—“Single,” “Taken,” “Open to Networking,” and so on.

Kuroo leans in close, lips by your ear so you can hear him over the lounge music. “Brace yourself, babyface. Corporate Valentine’s chic in full force.”

You can’t help a snort. “Don’t call me babyface in front of everyone,” you hiss, trying not to look self-conscious.

He smirks. “Fine. Mrs. Kuroo it is.”

You elbow him gently in the ribs, and he lets out a playful “Ow!” just as a man in a suit rushes over to greet you.

“Kuroo, hey!” The guy beams and extends a hand. “Glad you could make it. We’ve got the sponsors over by the bar, and the press is setting up in the lounge area.”

“Thanks, Daichi,” Kuroo replies smoothly, shaking the man’s hand. “I’ll swing by and say hello in a minute. Oh—this is my plus-one.”

The man’s smile widens. “Great to meet you!” He doesn’t even blink at the slightly flustered expression on your face, just hands you both event badges. “We’re color-coded, so choose whichever suits your mood. And enjoy the party!”

You glance at the bands in your hand: pink for “Single,” purple for “Open to Collaboration,” red for “Taken.” There are even gold ones for “VIP.”

“Seriously?” you mutter, turning to Kuroo. “This is next-level marketing cheese.”

He laughs, plucking a gold band from a nearby tray and snapping it onto his wrist. “I’m definitely VIP, babe. No shame.”

Rolling your eyes, you settle for a purple one—“Open to Collaboration” seems neutral enough, right? You have no intention of wearing the pink “Single” band all night.

Kuroo’s gaze flicks to it, and you catch a slight smirk before he ushers you forward into the main ballroom.

Which, by the way, is massive: vaulted ceilings, floating heart-shaped lanterns, a champagne fountain at the center. You can practically smell the wealth. A DJ in the corner is playing some inoffensive house music that somehow fits the glittery vibe.

“Wow,” you breathe. “They really didn’t hold back.”

“Volleyball PR events rarely do,” Kuroo says, threading his fingers through yours before you can process it. It’s casual and familiar, like he’s done this a thousand times, but your heart jumps all the same. “Let’s grab a drink, yeah?”

He guides you toward the open bar. A bartender in a bright red bow tie greets you with a grin, asking for your orders.

“Champagne for me,” Kuroo says, then glances down at you. “And for my lovely companion…?”

You pause. “Champagne’s fine. Might as well fit the theme.”

As the bartender works his magic, you turn to Kuroo. “So, what’s the plan? Do we mingle for half an hour and then dip? I’m not sure how long I can stand being reminded that Valentine’s Day is literally next week.”

Kuroo’s eyebrow quirks. “Aren’t we hanging out anyway? We promised each other a palentine’s date—remember?”

You feel your cheeks warm. “I remember. Just… these decorations are overkill.”

He hands you a champagne flute, then raises his own in a mock toast. “To corporate romance,” he says with a smirk.

You clink glasses, taking a sip. The fizzy sweetness bursts across your tongue, and you can’t help but think it tastes like anticipation—like something is about to happen tonight that neither of you saw coming. Then you convince yourself that it’s just the alcohol. 

Over the next twenty minutes, you watch as Kuroo does his job—he introduces you to a cluster of sponsors, some old teammates, and a few local sports reporters. He’s charismatic in that effortless way he’s always been: breezing through small talk, sprinkling in jokes, and deflecting every flirty comment from others with easy charm.

You mostly hover by his side, alternately sipping champagne and trying not to feel out of place in your heels. Every so often, his fingers brush your elbow or settle low on your back, like he’s silently telling you: You’re not alone here.

It’s strangely reassuring—even if you can’t quite decide what it means.

Eventually, the crowd disperses into smaller clusters, and you manage to snag a moment of relative quiet near the pink-lit fountain in the center of the room.

“You okay?” Kuroo asks again, tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. “Not too bored?”

You shake your head. “I’m fine. It’s actually kinda funny watching you switch between your used-car-salesman voice and your normal voice.”

He snorts. “You want me to hit them with the real me? That might be too much for these delicate souls.”

“I can handle it,” you say, surprising even yourself with your boldness—maybe it’s the champagne.

Kuroo’s gaze flickers, something mischievous in his eyes. “Oh, I know you can handle me, babyface. You’ve done it since you were six, right?”

Your heart skips. He just won’t let you live that childhood wedding down. And, annoyingly, you don’t really mind.

“Stop it,” you say, but there’s no heat in your voice. “Anyway, what’s next on the agenda? Are you supposed to give a speech or something?”

He rakes a hand through his hair, making it even more disheveled. “Nah, not tonight. Just an appearance—shake some hands, charm some sponsors.” He shrugs, then lowers his voice. “We could slip out soon, if you want. Go somewhere else—somewhere less… pink.”

The offer sits in the air between you. You can’t help wondering what exactly he’s proposing. Drinks at a quieter bar? A late-night walk under the city lights? Going back to your apartment to continue that half-finished bottle of wine?

You muster a casual tone. “I’m not opposed. But won’t your absence be noticed?”

“I showed up, I mingled,” he says, brushing off your concern. “That’s enough for them.”

He flashes that signature grin—so easy, so Kuroo—and a flutter of nostalgia collides with the champagne buzz in your bloodstream. You think about how this night started: you, tipsy in your lobby, letting him steady you on your heels. You think about Valentine’s Day looming, and how all of this might be leading to something (which, you’re still trying to figure out if it’s good or bad).

“Alright,” you say, taking another sip from your glass. “One more round of goodbyes, then we escape.”

Kuroo’s eyes linger on you, almost thoughtful. “Deal.”

He downs the rest of his champagne and sets the empty flute on a nearby tray, offering you his arm. The little gesture makes you laugh under your breath; he’s always half-joking, half-serious. But you slip your hand into the crook of his elbow all the same, taking advantage of the moment—you grin. 

He is your date tonight, after all.

eight.

You two end up at a 99cent pizza shop.

It’s one of those shitty ones, where the lights blink every other second and are open 24/7 and catering exclusively to drunk people. You order a pepperoni slice (which is $1.50, absolutely criminal), Kuroo gets a slice with mushrooms and peppers like a weirdo, and a ten-piece garlic knots because you’re both absolute whores for shitty food. 

The cashier barely looks up as you pass over a crumpled bill, his expression one of pure indifference. It’s the kind of place where no one gives a shit if you waltz in wearing a ballgown or, in Kuroo’s case, an untucked dress shirt and a loosened tie that screams former professionalism turned reckless abandon.

Kuroo nudges your shoulder as he grabs the tray of food. “Find us a seat, babyface.”

You glance around. The booths are occupied by a mix of exhausted bar-hoppers, students pulling all-nighters with greasy paper plates in front of them, and one guy hunched over, presumably contemplating his life choices. Classic New York.

You settle for a two-seater in the back corner, mostly because it’s the only spot that doesn’t look like it’ll give you tetanus. Kuroo sets the tray down between you, sliding into the seat across from you with that ridiculous, smug expression that hasn’t left his face all night.

“You’re staring,” you say flatly, reaching for a garlic knot.

He props his chin on his hand, unbothered. “You look cute.”

Your hand freezes mid-air. “What?”

Kuroo, the absolute bastard, takes a slow bite of his pizza like he didn’t just casually drop a grenade into your bloodstream. “I said, you look cute.” He gestures vaguely at you with his slice. “All dressed up in a shitty pizza joint. Very Serena van der Woodsen in Gossip Girl vibes.”

You recover quickly, snorting as you take a bite of your garlic knot. “You did not just compare me to Serena van der Woodsen.”

“Hey, I know my pop culture references.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “But seriously. I like this look on you.”

The warmth in your chest spreads far too quickly. You shove it down with a bite of pizza. “If you’re trying to butter me up, it’s not gonna work.”

Kuroo smirks. “You sure? It worked when we were kids.”

You shoot him a look. “I was six. You bribed me with strawberry Pocky.”

“And you fell for it every time,” he says, grinning. “You were so easy to manipulate.”

You kick him lightly under the table, but there’s no real venom behind it. He just chuckles and takes another bite of his pizza, chewing thoughtfully before glancing at you again.

“So,” he says after a moment. “What was the verdict on tonight? Was it as painful as you thought?”

You hesitate, twirling the crust of your pizza between your fingers. The thing is, you actually had fun. Not just tolerable, get-through-it-and-leave fun, but actual, laughing-with-Kuroo-in-the-middle-of-a-stuffy-corporate-party fun. The realization makes your stomach flip.

“It was fine,” you say, playing it cool. “Drinks were good. Company was tolerable.”

Kuroo barks out a laugh. “Tolerable? Damn, I’ll take it.”

You roll your eyes, but the way he’s looking at you—so easy, so damn fond—makes it hard to breathe for a second.

You clear your throat, glancing down at your plate. “Anyway, it was nice to see you in work mode. You actually seemed like a functional adult.”

Kuroo sighs dramatically. “I know, it’s exhausting.”

You snort. “I imagine so. Having to use, like, three brain cells at a time.”

“It’s really pushing my limits,” he says with an obnoxious frown. 

The conversation drifts into easy territory—inside jokes, exaggerated retellings of childhood disasters, a debate about whether New York pizza is actually better than Tokyo’s (you say yes, he remains stubbornly neutral). It feels natural, like slipping into an old sweater that still fits perfectly despite the years.

At some point, he reaches across the table, swiping a garlic knot straight off your plate.

“Hey,” you protest, swatting at his hand too late.

Kuroo just smirks, popping the whole thing into his mouth. “Possession is nine-tenths of the law, babyface.”

“Possession is going to be me slapping you in the face if you steal another one.”

“Violence,” he muses, chewing. “That’s how you treat your childhood husband?”

Your face heats. “Tetsu.”

He winks. “Relax. I’ll buy you more next time.”

Next time.

The words hang there for a second longer than necessary. He says it like it’s a given, like this—you and him, nights like this—is a thing that should keep happening.

And the stupidest part? You don’t hate the idea… not even a little bit.

You pick up another garlic knot, breaking eye contact like that’ll do anything to slow your heartbeat. “You better buy me more.”

Kuroo just leans back, watching you like he already knows something you don’t, and you are slightly terrified of whatever that implies.

nine.

Monday night, after you get home from an excruciating day of labwork (like… you entered at 6 AM and left the next day at 2 AM—you’re really going through it these days), Kuroo is already changed and in his pajamas, reading a book and playing a vinyl you bought when you went through your #artsy stage. He looks up with a smile from his spot sprawled across your couch as you come in, drop your keys on the side table, and promptly collapse on the floor.

“I’m so tired,” you wail, fake sniffling, slumped against the wall. Kuroo looked momentarily alarmed until your pleading; he lets out an exhale that’s vaguely close to a laugh when he realises you’re just being dramatic.

“Welcome home,” he says, his smile practically audible in his voice. “Take it you had a long few day… days.”

You sigh, nodding, wobbling over to the couch and plopping on top of him. You’re so tired you don’t even care about the proximity—you want to lie down, right now. “Yeah. But I think I’ve discovered something pretty interesting, so I’m hoping I can get into Neuron this time around.”

“You’ll get it,” Kuroo says completely calmly, sounding insanely confident in you. He doesn’t even look away from his book—just lifts his arms enough to let you put your head on his chest, and then resting them against your shoulder blades. “Smartest girl I know.”

“...Shut up,” you mutter, burying your face into his t-shirt to hide your embarrassment. 

You let out a weary groan, face still hidden in Kuroo’s t-shirt, and he just chuckles under his breath, shifting slightly so you can get more comfortable. His hand finds its way into your hair, fingers raking through it in a surprisingly soothing motion—like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Can’t believe you’re still awake,” he remarks, eyes darting back to his book. “Look like you’re about to pass out any second.”

“Very astute observation,” you mumble into the soft cotton. “Nothing gets past you.”

He snorts, lightly tapping your shoulder in retribution before turning a page. “Hey, just looking out for my genius scientist here. Big day tomorrow, right?”

Your face scrunches up in confusion. “Big day? I mean, I guess I have more lab stuff…”

Kuroo tilts his head, arching an eyebrow at you like you’ve said something ridiculous. “Not that,” he says, exasperated. “Valentine’s Day, babyface. Remember?”

Your heart does a quick, uncomfortable skip. Valentine’s—not Palentine’s. The difference lands in your head like a small explosion, especially considering you’ve both been referring to it as Palentine’s up ‘til now.

“O-oh,” you stammer eloquently, trying to recover. “Right. Valentine’s. Sure.”

He watches you carefully, eyes gleaming with amusement as he gently closes his book. “You didn’t forget our plans, did you?”

Plans. Right. He invited you for something—ice skating or a movie, or maybe both. You’d said yes in that flustered, I’m-pretending-this-is-just-a-friendly-thing way. But the way he’s saying it now, with that particular lilt in his voice, has your mind racing.

You force yourself to sit up slightly, though you don’t leave the comfort of lying half-on-top of him. “I—uh. I didn’t forget. I guess I’m just… used to calling it Palentine’s.”

Kuroo smirks, brushing a thumb across your cheek with casual familiarity. “Oh, right. My bad. I must’ve slipped.”

Slipped, he says, which makes your pulse do an annoying little flutter.

“I mean, it’s not like it matters,” you continue quickly, your words tripping over themselves. “We’re just hanging out—like always. Whether we call it Valentine’s or Palentine’s or ‘Tuesday’… right?”

He hums in response—low in his throat, almost thoughtful—while his hand drifts from your hair to the back of your neck in a comforting weight. “Sure,” he says, a bit too lightly to be casual. “Whatever you wanna call it.”

The tone in his voice suggests that maybe it does matter, that maybe—just maybe—he doesn’t want to hide behind the ‘Palentine’s’ façade anymore.

A moment of silence settles between you, broken only by the faint crackle of your old vinyl spinning and the ever-present traffic outside. Your nerves feel strung tight as a bitch, and you wonder if he can sense how tense you’ve suddenly gone.

“Anyway,” he says, clearly trying to alleviate some of the awkwardness, “I was thinking we could do something painfully cliché tomorrow. Romantic comedy marathon, maybe. Or that ice-skating idea. Hot chocolate, the works.”

You glance up at him, meeting his gaze. “That sounds… nice.” You fidget with a loose thread on his t-shirt, trying not to overthink every micro-expression on his face. “You sure you won’t be busy with, like, sponsor stuff, or—”

Kuroo rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips. “Are you kidding? I’d rather be with you—binging Netflix, falling on my face on the rink—than stuck in another press conference.” He gives a lazy shrug, but his eyes don’t leave yours. “Besides, I’m all yours tomorrow.”

I’m all yours.

There’s that pesky little flutter in your chest again, ramping up several notches. You wonder if he can feel your heart pounding where you’re still sprawled half-across his torso. Possibly. Probably.

“That’s… good,” you manage, trying not to think too hard about the myriad ways Valentine’s could be interpreted. Trying not to let the prospect of him wanting more—maybe wanting you—send you into a full-blown panic. Because a teeny, traitorous part of you is really hoping that’s what it means.

“Now,” he says, clearly sensing the rabbit hole your mind might be running down. “It’s past midnight, and you’ve had, what, negative hours of sleep?”

“That’s not even physically possible,” you argue, though your eyelids suddenly feel very heavy.

“Sure it is,” he counters, wrapping an arm more snugly around your waist as he tugs a throw blanket from the back of the couch. “I’m pretty sure you’re living proof. C’mon. Let’s just crash right here for a bit.”

You don’t have the energy to protest, and honestly? The idea of dozing off to the low hum of the vinyl, warm against Kuroo’s chest, is downright tempting. Besides, you’ll have to drag yourself to bed eventually—but for now, this cozy bubble is enough.

“Fine,” you mumble, feeling your limbs already going slack. “But if I drool on you, it’s your own fault for not kicking me off.”

He laughs quietly, letting the book he was reading slip onto the coffee table. “I’ll live. I’ve survived worse. Like the time you threw up all over me after that carnival ride in middle school.”

You grumble something incoherent in protest, too exhausted to muster a real comeback. The corners of his mouth twitch in amusement, and he shifts just enough to angle you more comfortably against him.

As your eyes flutter shut, you can’t stop replaying the word Valentine’s in your head. Tomorrow. Kuroo said it so easily, like it was obvious. Like it was a given that you wouldn’t just be celebrating as friends or old childhood buddies. Warmth pools in your chest, a mix of excitement and nerves. Maybe you’ll just have to see how tomorrow plays out—maybe you’ll finally figure out if this… thing you’ve been dancing around for so long is actually real.

Because if there’s one thing you are sure about, it’s that Kuroo has always had a way of turning your world on its axis. And this time, you really hope he doesn’t stop at Palentine’s.

ten.

You wake up to the smell of french toast.

Which, honestly, you lowkey don’t love nearly as much as waffles. But you aren’t going to be picky after your crash out last night. 

You stumble into the kitchen, vaguely rubbing your eyes with the sleeve of your hoodie, blinking away the sleep to read the Eevee alarm clock Kenma bought you when you moved in. 12:19PM. Honestly not your worst: once, during finals season in your undergrad years, you pulled a three-day all-nighter and passed out for sixteen straight hours after. Kuroo had to practically drag you out of your dorm room after that one; he and Kenma basically froze your phone with the amount of texts they sent in a futile attempt to wake you up. 

Kuroo’s back is to you as he stands at the stove, his compression shirt accentuating his muscle definition. He looks straight up like a model you’d see at the mall in a Calvin Klein billboard, and it makes you flush as you remember he said Valentine’s last night. He senses you without even turning around—he, without even bothering to look up, says, “Mornin’, babyface. Do you want strawberries or whipped cream?”

“You doubt me. Both,” you snort, stepping closer. Despite your attempt at nonchalance, your stomach flips when you get closer and can see just how freakishly good he looks in that stupid ass shirt. The memory of him casually calling it Valentine’s still sizzles in the back of your mind.

Kuroo casts you a brief over-the-shoulder grin. “Both it is, princess.” He deftly flips a slice of french toast on the pan, the sweet, eggy aroma curling toward your nose. “Hope you’re hungry. I got a little carried away.”

“Oh, I’m starving,” you say, eyeing the small stack of bread slices he’s already prepared on a plate. “Seriously, I might eat all of this. If you don’t move fast, you won’t get any.”

He chuckles, dropping another piece of bread into the batter. “Noted. I’ll keep that in mind while I guard my breakfast with my life.”

You open the fridge for the strawberries, and sure enough, there’s also a can of whipped cream on the shelf—Kuroo came prepared. “I can’t believe you actually planned this,” you mutter under your breath, rifling around. “Is this your way of bribing me to be your Valentine?”

He pretends to think about it. “Might be. If it works, I’ll make waffles next time, too.”

You huff a laugh, grateful your face is still hidden in the fridge so he can’t see the fond smile spreading across your lips. Might be. It’s clear he’s leaning full-throttle into the idea of spending this entire Valentine’s Day with you. The thought warms you more than you want to admit.

Sliding the carton of strawberries onto the counter, you catch him drizzling a bit of honey on the toast. “Fancy,” you tease, dragging out the syllable.

Kuroo shrugs one shoulder. “Hey, can’t help being an overachiever. Besides…” He flips off the stove burner and slides the last slice of french toast onto the plate, stacking it neatly. “I missed this.”

You glance up, curiosity and something else tangling in your chest. “This? Cooking breakfast?”

He sets the spatula aside, turns around, and leans against the counter. “Cooking breakfast for you,” he clarifies, pausing as if testing how you’ll react. “Y’know, we used to hang out all the time—before you left for New York. I guess it just reminded me of those days. Late nights, lazy mornings, that sort of thing.”

Your cheeks warm at his candidness. “We still hung out a bit after we graduated,” you offer, though you know it was never the same once you’d moved halfway across the globe for grad school.

Kuroo nods, his hand lingering on the handle of the frying pan as if he needs something to ground himself. “Yeah, but once you officially moved here? We both got busy. Kenma did his whole streaming empire thing, I jumped into work. And you were—”

“Neck-deep in studies,” you finish for him, remembering those endless days in the lab, how you’d chug energy drinks and blink against fluorescent lights until your eyes burned.

Kuroo taps the counter with his knuckles, a soft exhale escaping him. “Uh-huh. And Kenma and I, well… we kinda promised each other we wouldn’t make a big deal about how much we missed you.” He flashes a small, wry grin. “Figured you already had enough to worry about without dealing with our whining.”

You pause, strawberries in hand, staring at him. “Wait. You both made that promise?”

He nods, and for once, you catch the hint of sheepishness in his expression. “We might have texted constantly about how weird it was without you around,” he admits, chuckling under his breath. “But we agreed to keep it low-key so you could focus on your research. Didn’t want you feeling guilty if you started missing home too much.”

Your chest tightens. “I—God, that’s so stupid of you guys.”

He arches an amused eyebrow. “Stupid?”

“I would have been fine!” you insist, though a pang of fondness (and maybe regret) flickers through you. “Yeah, I’d have been sad, but I would’ve rather known. Going months without hearing from you two sometimes was way worse.”

He huffs a laugh, pushing off the counter to move closer. “Yeah, guess in hindsight, it wasn’t the best plan. But we were, what, twenty? Twenty-one? And mostly worried you’d drop out of grad school to come home if we made you feel bad.”

“Drop out?” You roll your eyes. “Please, as if I’d ever let you be that important.”

Kuroo tosses you a smirk, but there’s a gratefulness in his gaze. “Hey, I’m plenty important. Just not more important than a doctorate in neuroscience.”

“Damn straight,” you retort, but your heart is pounding too hard for sarcasm to land with its usual punch. He missed you. More than that—he and Kenma both actively hid how much they missed you, just so you wouldn’t feel sad or guilty. That’s… an annoying level of sweet.

Before you can dwell on it, he gestures to the french toast. “Anyway, let’s eat? Unless you’d rather stand here and get all sentimental.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, but your tone is more flustered than harsh. “Give me the plate.”

He hands it over with a dramatic bow, then grabs the strawberries and whipped cream to set on the table. You both sit across from each other, and he insists on adding the toppings to your serving, swirling an absurd amount of whipped cream atop each slice.

“Seriously,” you scold, swatting his wrist when he won’t stop pressing the nozzle, “we don’t need that much foam sugar.”

He just laughs. “Oh, come on, babyface. Live a little.”

“Hmm,” you reply, biting the inside of your cheek to hide your grin. “Fine. But if I get a sugar crash in like two hours, you’re dealing with the aftermath.”

He mock-salutes you. “Yes, ma’am.”

It’s a small, silly moment, but something in the easy way you banter—especially right after that confession about how hard it was when you left—makes your chest swell with warmth. Perhaps it’s just the Valentine’s vibe that has your mind spinning in circles, but you can’t help wondering what he’s getting at here.

You try a bite, letting the sweetness and cinnamon melt on your tongue. “Damn,” you mumble through a mouthful, “this is actually pretty good.”

“Pretty good?” He sets a hand against his heart in mock offense. “I slaved away in the kitchen—”

“What, for like ten minutes?” you interrupt, snickering. “Yep, truly backbreaking labor.”

He pretends to wipe away a tear. “Your gratitude is overwhelming.”

Despite the teasing, he looks satisfied when you reach for another slice. You don’t miss how his eyes follow the movement, nor how his gaze lingers on your face, like he’s taking mental snapshots of you enjoying the meal. It’s disconcertingly tender—especially for a guy who’s teased you your entire life.

Eventually, when you’ve both eaten more than enough, you lean back in your chair, hand resting on your full stomach. “All right, Chef Kuroo. That was acceptable. Now what’s the plan for the rest of Valentine’s Day, hmm?”

He clears his throat, fiddling with a piece of crust on his plate. “Well, we could go ice skating later—like we talked about. If you’re still up for it. Or we could do that rom-com marathon and eat a bunch of store-bought chocolate. Or both.”

“That’s… definitely an option,” you say slowly, feeling a little thrill ripple through you at how nonchalant you’re trying to be. “Which one first?”

He meets your eyes, a hint of a smirk curving his lips. “Why not flip a coin?”

You snort, standing up and collecting the dishes. “No way. I have the worst luck with coin tosses.”

“Then I’ll rig it so you win.” Kuroo grins, pushing back his chair to follow you to the sink. 

“And you call me the overachiever,” you toss over your shoulder, cranking on the faucet. You start rinsing plates, the soap suds foaming around your fingers.

“Mm,” he murmurs, stepping up behind you. “At least let me help.”

He crowds in, reaching to take the plate from your hand. You don’t protest—mostly because your entire body goes rigid at the realization of how close he’s standing. His chin practically brushes your temple, and you can feel the warmth radiating off him in waves.

For a moment, neither of you moves. The only sound is the running water, the faint drip of the faucet, and the thud of your own heartbeat in your ears. You can’t help the way your breath catches.

“You okay?” he asks quietly, noticing your sudden stillness.

“Yeah,” you manage, forcing yourself to relax. “Just spacing out.”

His lips twitch into a small, understanding smile. “Same here.” Then, with a deft motion, he takes the plate from you and resumes scrubbing, shoulders barely an inch from yours in your cramped kitchen.

This shouldn’t feel so charged, right? He’s just helping you do dishes. But everything with Kuroo feels different this morning—like there’s some invisible line you both keep brushing against, neither one wanting to take the leap but both too invested to step back.

When the last plate is clean, he sets it on the drying rack, shuts off the water, and dries his hands with a dishrag. “So,” he says, turning to you. “Breakfast? Check. Next item on the Valentine’s agenda?”

You roll your eyes—can’t believe you’re actually calling it Valentine’s now, you think, but you don’t correct him. Instead, you tilt your head, as if deep in thought. “Well, you did promise me cheesy romance, so maybe we do the rom-com marathon first and ice skating afterward, if we still have time.”

His grin is immediate. “Sounds perfect.” He turns and saunters toward your living room, tossing the dishrag onto the counter. “I’ll pick the first movie?”

You’re about to agree when you suddenly remember—he said he’d rig the coin toss. So you raise an eyebrow. “Wait, how do I know you’re not just rigging this in your favor?”

Kuroo snorts, grabbing the TV remote. “Hey, I’m giving you exactly what you want, babyface. I call that your favor.”

You roll your eyes for the millionth time, but you can’t keep the small smile off your face as you follow him into the living room. For the first time in a long while, you feel light—like maybe the missing piece of your life that you left behind in Tokyo is right here, making you french toast and joking about Valentine’s Day.

eleven.

You easily binge Netflix’s Love Is In The Air recommendations for several hours, to the point where, by the time that you wrap up The Kissing Booth 3, the sun has already started to set. Outside your fourth floor apartment, you have a relatively unobstructed view of the way the sky melds into a blend of purples and blues, casting shadows and making your living room’s lighting feel even warmer.

Somehow (you say, knowing full well that you climbed into this position with full intentions of doing so) you end up curled up in Kuroo’s arms, one of your legs draped over his thigh while his arm wraps snugly around your shoulders. His other hand lazily scrolls through the Netflix homepage, searching for the next rom-com victim. You barely pay attention, though—too busy noticing how ridiculously warm he is, how easy it is to fit against him, and how the dark colors of the setting sun outside look so damn pretty.

Finally, after a half-hearted scroll through the Looking For The One category, you decide: “I’m hungry. Let’s get sushi.”

He perks up, setting down the remote. “Now you’re speaking my language. Which place should we order from?”

“There’s this little spot a few blocks away that does really fresh rolls,” you say, grabbing your phone from the cushion beside you. “They deliver in like fifteen minutes, too.”

Kuroo nods, giving you a light squeeze. “Cool. Just let me know how much I owe you. Or consider it your Valentine’s gift to me, I guess.” He snickers.

You roll your eyes at the terrible suggestion, pulling up the menu on your phone. “I’ve got it, I’m feeling generous. Plus, this place is kinda special to me anyway.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Special? Because the sushi’s that good?”

You shift, trying to type your order without meeting his eyes. “Uhh… well, an ex brought me here once. That was back in like, grad school.”

Kuroo’s hand stills against your arm. “Excuse me?” he says, feigning dramatic outrage. “I can’t believe you’d talk about your sordid affairs on Valentine’s Day, babyface. You wound me.”

You snort, giving him a playful shove that doesn’t move him even an inch. “Relax, it was ages ago. It’s not like it was a big deal. I mostly liked him because he kinda looked like—” You stop mid-sentence, eyes widening.

“Kinda looked like… what?” Kuroo parrots, amused suspicion lighting up his features. “Finish that sentence.”

You clamp your mouth shut and tap furiously on your phone screen instead. “Nothing. Just forget it.”

His eyes narrow. “Oh, no no no, you don’t get to drop that bomb and then pretend it never happened. Spill.”

“It’s none of your business,” you reply swiftly, your cheeks burning. “And for the record, it’s definitely not what you’re thinking.”

He sets his jaw, locking you in place by tightening the arm wrapped around you. “Alright, guess I’ll have to guess. Let’s see—you liked him because he kinda looked like…” He pauses, tapping a finger to his chin in exaggerated thought. “Me?”

“Oh my god, no,” you say, maybe a bit too quickly. “That’d be weird, Tetsu. You’re—well, you’re you.”

Something fleetingly vulnerable flashes across his face. He frowns a little, brow knitting. “Do you really think so?” His tone goes quiet, serious in a way that has your stomach dropping.

Your pulse stutters. “Wait, no, I didn’t mean—” You flail, phone clattering onto the cushion as you try to find his gaze. “I just—look, it’s not weird. Of course I—I mean, you know I—” You exhale shakily, feeling your words tumble over themselves. “I like you, Tetsu. Please don’t be upset.”

There’s a beat of tense silence… and then Kuroo bursts out laughing. Actual, stomach-jostling laughter. His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose as he struggles to compose himself, and you realize, with rapidly boiling annoyance, that he’s been messing with you.

“You jerk!” you sputter, smacking him on the arm. “That wasn’t funny! I thought I actually hurt your feelings.”

He just grins, easily absorbing your weak swats. “Aw, sorry, babyface. You should’ve seen your face, though.”

Your cheeks feel molten. “I hate you sometimes, you know?”

“Mm-hmm,” he drawls, pulling you back against him, his palm smoothing over your shoulder. “But the good news is, now I know you do like me. And that some of your exes looked like me, which is a really nice ego boost.”

You groan, burying your face against his chest. “Shut up.”

He keeps talking anyway, voice taking on a more pensive note. “I mean, it’s not like I can judge. I think about you whenever I meet someone new.”

Slowly, you lift your head, eyebrows knitting. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs one shoulder, as if it’s no big deal. “Just, like, whenever I go on a date, I find myself comparing them to you. They’re never as funny or as smart, or I wonder if they’d get along with Kenma the way you obviously do… that kind of thing.”

You stare at him, mouth slightly open. “Tetsu…” You’re not sure how to respond to that confession. Warmth and a spike of adrenaline rush through you, and you can only open and close your mouth in silence.

At your speechlessness, Kuroo just laughs, scrunching his nose in amusement. “Aw, come on. It’s not that shocking, is it?”

“Uh,” you manage, blinking. “I—uh.”

Your brain is short-circuiting, so you do the only thing that makes sense in your frazzled state: you announce, “I’m gonna go pee.”

“What?” He snorts. “Really? That’s your best response to my heartfelt confession?”

“You think I chose this response?” you squeak, scrambling to your feet. Your cheeks feel like they could combust. “I don’t control your unfiltered romantic drivel, and you don’t control my bladder, okay?”

Kuroo just shakes his head in disbelief, though his eyes gleam with delight. “I’m not stopping you, babyface. Go pee. The sushi’ll be here in a few minutes anyway.”

You nod, fleeing the scene for the bathroom, heart pounding in your ears. Even as you slam the door behind you, you can hear him chuckling softly in the living room.

Leaning against the bathroom door, you take a steadying breath. He compares everyone to you. You literally admitted you like him, too. And he’s laughing, because this is all apparently just… normal. Suddenly, the entire dynamic shifts—like everything you’ve both been dancing around for so long is right there, out in the open, and you’re not quite sure what to do next.

Well, you do know one thing: you really do need to pee.

“Okay,” you mutter, “priorities.”

And as you step toward the toilet, part of you wonders how to keep your composure once you walk back out to him—because from here on out, there’s no more pretending you don’t both feel something real.

twelve.

After peeing and washing your hands with your favorite bougie ass soap (Christmas gift from your boss; you could never afford it at department store rates), you whip out your phone and call Kenma. You know it’s 8 AM over there, so there’s a good chance you’ll be waking up your brother, but you don’t care because you need his objective opinion right now.

It takes until the third call, but on the fourth ring, he finally picks up. 

“What?” he mumbles groggily. “I was sleeping.”

“Sorry, but I don’t care. Give me some good advice right now,” you hiss into your phone, pacing back and forth in front of your shower like a maniac.

You hear fabric rustling, followed by a prolonged yawn. “Fine. I bet it has to do with Kuro.”

You freeze, biting down on your lip. “...Maybe.”

“Ugh,” Kenma sighs. “I literally can’t believe you’re calling me about him at eight in the morning.”

“It’s not that early, y’know.”

He grumbles something incoherent under his breath, then says more clearly, “So what’s the crisis? I’m not sure how many brain cells I have at this hour.”

You rub your forehead, letting out a strangled groan. “Kenma, is it weird if I kinda—I don’t know—wanna make out with him? Like, a lot? Maybe not just make out—maybe, like, really make out—” You shake your head vigorously, cheeks flaming. “But is that weird?”

There’s silence on the other end for a long moment. Then Kenma’s voice, flat as ever: “That’s my sister and my best friend you’re talking about. Gross. But also not really weird. Because I literally officiated your wedding in second grade, remember? You two are basically old news.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, your free hand clenching at your side. “Oh my God, not you too. Kuroo keeps bringing it up, and now you’re enabling him. When did that wedding even become a real memory to everyone but me?”

“Uh, it’s always been a memory. You wore a yellow dress, he had a Spider-Man t-shirt, I was reading from a Pokémon handbook.” He yawns. “I was, like, seven, but I still remember, because Kuro wouldn’t shut up about it. And apparently, still won’t.”

“Yeah, well,” you huff, pacing faster. “He mentions it daily, I swear, and it’s driving me insane—like, I get it, we had a pretend wedding when we were literal children. Does he have to bring it up every chance he gets?”

Kenma’s voice goes deadpan. “He brings it up because he likes you, dumbass.”

Your pacing halts so abruptly you almost trip over the bathroom mat. “...Oh.”

A beat passes; the only sound is your heart thudding in your ears.

“Yeah,” Kenma continues, dry as day-old toast. “He’s liked you forever. You’ve liked him forever. You’re both idiots. Congrats.”

You gawk at the phone, mind spinning. “Wait—he—he’s always…? Does everyone know this except me?”

Kenma yawns again, unperturbed. “Probably. I mean, we weren’t exactly subtle growing up. Dad used to tell me he was more worried about you running off with Tetsu than, like, your middle school crushes.”

You gape. “Seriously?”

“Mhm.” You hear the faint click of a laptop or a Switch—knowing Kenma, he’s probably opening up a game to pass the time. “Anyway, is that all you needed to ask? Because I’d like to get at least another hour of sleep.”

You groan, but you can’t quell the swirl of hope rising in your chest. “This is… surreal. He just told me earlier—like, not directly, but he basically said he thinks about me whenever he meets someone new. And I might’ve implied I like him too—oh God, Kenma, what do I do?”

He’s quiet for a moment, presumably considering. “Make out with him. I don’t know. You literally said that’s what you want to do.”

“That’s it? That’s your profound, brotherly wisdom?”

“What else do you want me to say?” he drones. “You both already know you like each other. This was the most obvious outcome in the world. Just do your thing, get it out of your system. Or get married again if you want. Could be a nice full-circle moment.”

You let out a mortified noise, pressing your forehead to the cool tile of your bathroom wall. “You’re—urgh, never mind. Thanks, Kenma.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters. “Tell Kuro he owes me five bucks for something… I’ll think of a reason later. Bye.”

Before you can protest, he hangs up, leaving you with your phone still pressed to your ear. You stare at the blank screen, a mix of exasperation and relief swirling through your chest.

He likes you. You like him. You’re idiots—Kenma’s words, not yours. And apparently, neither of you has been hiding it as well as you thought.

You inhale slowly, trying to calm your racing heart. Then you square your shoulders. “Okay,” you say to yourself, “I can do this. Just… go out there and act normal. Or as normal as possible while wanting to jump his bones. Easy.”

With that pep talk, you push off the wall, open the bathroom door, and step into the hallway, with completely unfounded confidence in yourself.

thirteen.

That confidence goes straight out the window because as soon as you walk back, you are caught off-guard by Kuroo standing in the middle of your living room, hands behind his back and wearing the guiltiest expression you’ve ever seen, obviously hiding something from your view. You’re scared, and immediately a little suspicious. 

“What are you doing?” you ask warily, taking very slow, careful steps toward him. “What is that?”

He ignores the question entirely, instead breaking into a triumphant grin. “Babyface,” he declares, “I have a Valentine’s Day gift for you.”

All the tension in your shoulders uncoils in one quick moment of relief. “Oh.” You snort, rolling your eyes. “Okay, this should be good. What is it—a frog? A cricket? Remember when you gave me that cricket in fourth grade?”

Kuroo stifles a laugh, as if recalling the memory of your horrified shriek when you opened a tiny shoebox to find a chirping insect. “I was trying to teach you about biology. You always liked science-y stuff,” he defends. “Besides, a cricket is romantic if you think about it long enough.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Please don’t tell me that’s what’s behind your back right now.”

He steps forward, eyes warm with mirth. “I promise. This is way better.”

He produces a small, flat object from behind him—a rectangular folder, sealed by a thin, glossy cover. At first, you’re genuinely perplexed. It’s too big to be a normal card, and there’s no way it’s a book, unless it’s some custom print job. The corners are crisp, the material looks like maybe photo paper. Curiosity coaxes you closer.

Catching your confusion, Kuroo grins wider. “Look inside.”

With a hint of skepticism, you slip your fingers under the cover, peeling it back. Inside is a high-quality color print—like a medical scan or something from a research article. Black-and-gray cross-sections and bright neon highlights fill your vision, and as you blink, trying to parse the image, your mouth goes dry. You recognize the shape of a human brain from an fMRI scan: swirling patterns in vivid oranges and reds indicating activated regions.

“Is this… an fMRI?” you breathe, your hand trembling slightly as you lift the print to the light. Definitely an fMRI, your trained eye confirms—distinct slices, certain labeling, the faint text from the imaging software. “Tetsu, why the hell are you giving me…?”

He shifts, almost shy, scratching the back of his neck. “I asked one of the JVA’s partnered sports med facilities to do a little favor for me.” A pause. “A small, borderline unethical favor.”

Your eyes dart back to the vibrant splotches. “The nucleus accumbens,” you whisper, tapping a bright orange blob near the center. “And the hippocampus. They’re… lit up.” You draw in a sharp breath. “These areas activate when you’re—”

“—experiencing motivation, reward, or strong emotional attachment,” he finishes gently, voice hushed. “Like, for instance, thinking about someone you love.”

Your heart stutters so violently you nearly drop the print. “So, you—this is… from your brain?” you manage, your throat suddenly tight.

Kuroo nods, looking almost bashful, which is a jarring contrast to his usual smug confidence. “They scanned me while I was, uh… focusing on a particular mental image.” He glances away, expression uncharacteristically shy. “I figured you’d like the hard data. You being a scientist and all.”

You force yourself to swallow past the dryness in your mouth. “You’re telling me you literally got an fMRI done while thinking about… someone?” Your voice trembles on the last word, and you can’t quite meet his eye.

He exhales a quick laugh. “Uh-huh. Didn’t take long. I just, you know, had to fill out some forms, promise it was for a PR stunt about brain health or something. Then I, well, closed my eyes and pictured—”

“Who?” you interrupt, not even caring that you sound breathless. You’re clutching the fMRI print so hard you can feel the edges biting into your fingertips.

Kuroo’s grin turns downright sheepish, and he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “Take a wild guess, babyface.”

Heat floods your cheeks, your mind flashing back to all the data you’ve read about how the nucleus accumbens is heavily involved in romantic love, addiction, reward. All those nights you taught undergrads about dopaminergic pathways and the hippocampus’s role in forming new memories—specifically, emotional memories.

“You… you were thinking about me?” you ask, voice scarcely above a whisper.

The sheepishness melts into something warmer. “Yeah,” he admits, gaze holding yours. “Obviously.”

For a moment, your living room goes silent—no hum of traffic or whir of appliances registers in your ears, just the thud-thud-thud of your heart as you stare at the bright orange smears on the print. He was literally focusing on you, flooding his mind with thoughts of you, enough to trigger all these hallmark signs of love and emotional resonance in his brain.

“You—” you start, but your voice is shaky. You take a breath, dropping your eyes to the image again. “This is probably the strangest and most… scientifically romantic thing anyone’s ever given me.”

He clears his throat, stepping closer. “I hoped you’d see it that way. I know you’re not into the typical Valentine’s gifts—flowers and cheesy cards. So I thought, you know… I’d show you proof.” He shrugs, but there’s an earnestness in his eyes that makes your chest tighten. “Real, measurable proof that you’re always in my head.”

Overcome, you tear your gaze from the print to search his face, half expecting him to burst into laughter and say it’s another joke. But there’s no sign of teasing. He’s dead serious, a bit vulnerable, and it reminds you painfully of how you’ve known him forever—how under all the arrogance and jokes, he’s always worn his heart right there on his sleeve.

“I—” You can’t find the words, so instead, you lean forward, pressing your forehead gently against his shoulder. The fMRI print stays clutched in your hand at your side, but the rest of you rests against him, trying to steady your breathing.

Kuroo’s arms come up, enveloping you. You feel the softness of his shirt and the warmth of his body, and it’s equal parts comforting and electrifying. “So,” he says softly, voice rumbling through your hair, “was this too much?”

You lift your head, meeting his gaze. “No,” you say, the corners of your mouth tilting up in a shaky smile. “It’s just… a lot to take in.” You let out a small laugh, one that wobbles on the edge of tears. “You literally went out of your way to prove you’re thinking about me with actual neuroscience data. How am I supposed to top that?”

He grins, the tension in his shoulders easing. “You don’t have to. Maybe just trust me when I say you’re stuck in my head, yeah?”

A breathless little chuckle escapes you. “Yeah,” you whisper. “I… can do that.”

For a second, the two of you just stand there, pressed together, the overhead light casting a soft glow on the fMRI print you still clutch in your trembling hand. Then Kuroo’s voice breaks the silence:

“Hey,” he murmurs, “since we’re on the subject of your super-scientific interest in my reward pathways… maybe we can do a little experiment?”

Your brow arches, a half-laugh catching in your throat. “An experiment, huh?”

“Mhm.” He carefully closes his hand around your wrist—the one holding the print—guiding it so you can set it gently on the coffee table nearby. Then he slides his fingers under your chin, tilting your face up to his. “I wanna see if I can spike some more activity in that region. Because I’m definitely thinking about you right now.”

Your heart stutters. The last time he teased you about wanting to test something, you were six years old, and he was coaxing you into believing that tying your shoelaces together would make you run faster. This, though? Vastly different stakes.

Still, your lips twitch into a wry smile. “Just… kissing me won’t show up on an fMRI unless you, I don’t know, plan on hooking up electrodes or something.”

He smirks, fingers trailing up to brush the line of your jaw. “Nah, no fancy medical tech needed. I just want an empirical result—like, say, a moan or a heartbeat spike.”

A shiver runs through you, and you swear you can feel your pulse jump beneath his hand. “You’re such a nerd,” you whisper, lips quirking. “But sure. For science.”

He laughs softly, the sound warm and easy, like the last golden light of sunset spilling through half-open blinds. Then, before you can think too much about it, he closes the distance, tilting his head just slightly as his lips brush against yours in a kiss that is warm, lingering, and unhurried. It steals your breath, not in the way a storm might, but like a tide gently pulling you under, enveloping you in something deep and inevitable.

The taste of him is familiar yet new all at once—there’s the faint trace of the sushi from earlier, or maybe just the memory of it, mingling with something sweeter, something unmistakably him. His fingers ghost along your waist, their presence featherlight but grounding, like a silent promise that he’s here, he’s real. And when he pulls you closer, his body pressing flush against yours, you feel it—the way your heart flutters wildly against your ribs, the way warmth spreads through your chest like a sunrise breaking over the horizon.

For a moment, the world holds its breath. Everything fades away—the hum of the city beyond the window, the soft glow of the overhead lights, even the thoughts that usually crowd your mind. There is only this: the way his lips move with quiet reverence, the quiet hitch in your breath as your fingers curl instinctively into the fabric of his shirt, the subtle shift of his body as he deepens the kiss just enough to make your pulse race.

And then, suddenly, you realize—you don’t need a machine or a calculation to tell you how you feel. The answer is already written in the way your entire chest hums, in the way your skin tingles where he touches you, in the way something inside you feels like it’s come alive, like a supernova has replaced your heart.

God, the astrophysics department should be studying this instead.

When he finally pulls back—foreheads brushing, breath mingling—he searches your eyes, his own half-lidded with affection. “So,” he murmurs, “did I succeed in lighting up your hippocampus?”

Your laugh comes out a little breathless. “If you keep that up,” you say, pressing a palm to his chest, “you might just rewire my entire brain.”

He grins, leaning in again to drop a quick peck at the corner of your mouth. “Good. Then I’ll have all the data I need.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in for another lingering kiss, feeling the warmth of his smile against your lips. In the back of your mind, you’re distantly aware that your own reward pathways might be exploding, nucleus accumbens glowing neon, hippocampus forging brand-new memories like a bonfire. And for the first time in a long time, you’re okay with letting the feelings have free rein.

Because sometimes, science can capture how people feel, but it can’t fully capture why. And right now, with Kuroo’s arms around you and that precious fMRI print still waiting on the coffee table, you think you’ve finally found your “why” in the easiest, most obvious place of all:

He loves you, and you love him back.

fourteen.

Three hundred and sixty-four days later, Kuroo is helping you move into a new apartment. In Tokyo. Because Columbia offered you the chance to do an exchange with the University of Tokyo before the end of your doctorate studies. For two entire years, slicing open human brains and figuring out what’s going on beneath, because your article published in Neuron made the cover page and you got a fat and juicy grant from the school. Two entire years of being close enough to hear your parents bragging about you in person again, and to have shitty takeout dinner with Kenma after his video game streams but before his corporate mojo. 

And two entire years of getting to live with your boyfriend. Kuroo, your very wonderful boyfriend who you love more than life itself and who you want to be buried with one day. The Kuroo who was the first person you liked at six years old and is still who you like at twenty-six. The Kuroo who you have successfully managed an international relationship with because you’ve already went three years apart without the spark dying. Still, you’re absolutely beaming as you carry in boxes and boxes of clothes, because you always love getting to be with him, in person and in real life, and now you get to every single day.

You can’t hang up on him when he gets annoying anymore, but it’s worth it when he makes you breakfast daily and reaches for you in his sleep. 

You heave another box into the apartment—this one filled with mismatched mugs you’ve collected from half a dozen coffee shops—and set it down with a groan. Kuroo flashes you a grin from across the living room, one hand resting casually on his hip as he surveys the chaos of half-unpacked boxes and hastily labeled luggage.

“You brought an entire suitcase just for shoes,” he points out, amused.

“Hey,” you protest, wiping sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand, “if I’m living here for two years, I’m not just gonna live in sneakers.”

He ambles over and nudges the box with his foot. “I guess that’s fair—though I’m not carrying that one up another flight of stairs if we end up moving again. You’ll have to bribe Kenma for help.”

You roll your eyes, but a laugh slips free. “Fine, fine. Now, major question: where are we putting our bed?”

He waggles his eyebrows, eyes bright with mischief. “We?” he echoes, as if you haven’t been living together for all of thirty minutes. “I’m pretty sure I get ultimate bed placement rights, given my extensive experience in interior design.”

“Oh, sure, because black-cat-themed t-shirts and old gym hoodies scream ‘interior design mogul.’”

He smirks. “Hey, I’ve got taste.” With that, he gestures expansively toward the center of a wall in the room you’d marked for the bed, where the largest patch of light from the window splashes onto the floor. “I say we put the bed there. We’ll get a queen, obviously.”

You raise an eyebrow. “A queen? As if you’re actually gonna stay on your side.”

His grin turns lazy. “Exactly. I can find you in the expanse.”

“And you wonder why I think you’re annoying.” You toss him a mock exasperated look, which only earns you another chuckle.

“You still chose to live with me,” he points out, that devilish glint in his eyes returning, “because you’re stuck with me, right here.”

“Lucky me,” you tease, while your heart still does that stupid flutter thing at the thought of waking up next to him every day.

He walks over and presses a quick kiss to your forehead. It’s such a simple, tender gesture that you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face.

“Speaking of tomorrow,” you say, turning back to break down an empty cardboard box, “it’s Valentine’s Day. Any big plans, or are we just, y’know, gonna eat convenience store chocolates while finishing the bed frame?”

Kuroo shrugs, far too casually for someone who’s obviously up to something. “Mmm, I might have a surprise,” he says.

You roll your eyes. “Of course you do. You and your surprises. Is it expensive, by chance?”

His brows lift in feigned innocence. “Depends if you consider a diamond ring expensive.”

You almost drop the box, now flattened and very, very large. “A what now?”

He smirks, crossing his arms over his chest. “You heard me.”

He’s kidding. He has to be fucking kidding, right now. He did not spend a small fortune on a rock for your finger.

“Fucking return that,” you blurt instantly, your heart skipping not one but multiple beats. “That’s so expensive. Why would you do that?”

“Well, if I’m gonna get my future wife a ring, I’m gonna make it an investment,” Kuroo replies with an ease that makes your chest tighten all over again.

“Wait—what the… Are you—are you serious?”

He leans closer, lips tilting in a secretive smile. “I guess you’ll find out tomorrow.”

Your mind whirls, half in shock, half in outright giddy disbelief. You’re suddenly hyperaware of everything: his calm breathing, the faint noises from the street outside, the way the newly painted walls catch the late afternoon light.

“Are you messing with me?” you finally manage.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he says, and then taps the tip of your nose affectionately. “But trust me, you’ll like it.”

It’s maddening and wonderful all at once, and you can’t help but wonder how on earth you got lucky enough to stumble into a future that looks a whole lot like happiness—especially if it involves a ring.

But for now, you tamp down the frantic beating of your heart and glance at the corner of the room. “Right,” you say, clearing your throat. “Queen bed. Got it.”

He laughs. “We’ll get the perfect one tomorrow. After all, we have at least two years of me latching onto you in my sleep, and then… maybe forever.”

And you roll your eyes, but you know what’ll happen tomorrow. Because of course you’re going to say yes. Because Kuroo Tetsuro has been the love of your life since you were a kid marrying him with dandelions, and because in every version of your imagined future, he’s still there, standing across from you at the aisle, regardless of if it’s a Band-Aid or an engagement ring he’s putting on your finger. Because he still makes every reward center in your brain light up (and because you’re putting that fMRI in your office at the university). 

Honestly, love is a system of chemical reactions. Scanners and artificial intelligence will probably take over the world sooner or later, and the scientific community is getting better and better at understanding the whys. You can measure the dopamine flooding your brain, track the firing of mirror neurons, and map out which regions of your cortex light up at the sound of his laugh. But still, science is flawed, because all the scanning techniques in the world can’t replicate the soft, certain rhythm of his heartbeat under your palm, or the way his eyes crinkle in tender amusement when he looks at you.

In this moment, your hippocampus diligently encodes every detail: the slight scuff on the floor, the teasing quirk of his lips, the warm press of his shoulder against yours. The memory crystallizes, even before tomorrow’s promise fully forms, because you already know the answer. You always have.

When you finally pull your gaze away, the last rays of sunlight spill over the spot where you’ll put your new bed—the place you’ll fall asleep entangled in each other’s arms, night after night. You picture the days ahead: lazy mornings that begin with his sleepy kisses, evenings spent side by side, peeling back the layers of the human mind and finding new depths in each other all the while.

And as your heart thrums with a rhythm that science can’t quite pin down—something that defies clean categorization in textbooks—you realize that in this bright, messy, glorious future, every neuron in your body is wired just for him.

And if that’s not proof enough of love, you’re not sure what is.

⨭ closing notes; i love being able to write bc i can create purely self indulgent things like this. i'm a neuroscientist and my bday is nov 14 (exactly 9 months after valentine's day) and im from nyc so this one really has a lil kick to it. did u notice i made it perfectly 14 chapters cause feb 14 lol i rly used my brain for that one. anyway happy day of love!! whether ur celebrating or not, please know i love u all <3

[moonshynecybin]

hiiiii i was gonna save this for their evil little joint bday week but i finished it and thought it would be fun to post... anyways around 2k of rosquez porn have fun i hope ya like it

“Are you Valentino Rossi?” Comes the question, sweet and eager, just to his right.

He looks over. The kid standing there is in a tight t-shirt and has a starstruck, too-big smile plastered across his handsome face. The kind of handsome Vale likes, dark hair, brown eyes, thick brows. It makes him shift on his stool, turning on the point of his elbow to face him, and open his legs a little. 

“Allora, that’s what they tell me,”

“Well,” The kid’s mouth stretches wider once he realizes he’s got Vale’s attention. He's thrilled. Perfect. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Vale ignores the question. This guy’s Italian is clumsy, thick in his mouth, and they’re at Mugello, so this is a bit strange. He raises an eyebrow and tugs on his earring, surveying him.

“You’re Spanish, no? You weren’t rooting for Lorenzo, maybe?”

The kid shakes his head, oddly confident. “No no, when I was young I liked Pedrosa, I wanted to be just like him.”

“Ah, Dani,” He says knowingly. This guy is short and Spanish, so that makes sense.

“Him, and you.” He adds on, and flushes prettily, pink on his cheeks, looking at Vale with a clean, incongruous sort of intensity. 

“Me, huh?” He stretches back and lets his eyes go half lidded, dragging up and down the kid’s body. “What's your name?”

“Marc,” he says, and brightens immediately, taking a seat next to Vale like he’s got permission, like he’s won something. He orders two shots of tequila without asking Vale what he likes. Jesus, he is young.

When he turns his overeager gaze back to Vale, a curl of hair flops into his face, bolting dark and inky down his forehead. Low light throws his cheekbones into sharp relief, and it’s striking. He's striking. Vale likes it. Marc licks his lips like it’s a habit. His hands are broad and his wrists are small, delicate, tapping jittery little patterns on the slab of the bar. His pinky is crooked, it matches Vale’s.

He takes him in.

“So, do you want to tell me why?” He asks.

“What?” Marc grins, surprised and confused and delighted.

“Tell me why.” Vale repeats, to watch the confusion deepen.

“Why, what?”

“Oh— why you like me, over Dani. And Jorge,” He adds like it’s an afterthought. It’s not.

“What, do you need an ego boost?” Marc replies, a burst of something behind his eyes, a little bit of a challenge. He laughs hard after he says it, but Vale doubts he was fully joking. 

He finds himself wanting to know how many different emotions Marc’s smile can actually be a cover for, wants to examine and catalog them, find out what he can say to crack the mask, break the seal.

He smile even wider, like he thought it was just as funny as Marc did, and makes it sleazy. It's a game, now. He loves games. Maybe Marc will be able to play.

“Ah, an insider secret for you—riding is a game of confidence. You say you’re a fan?” Marc nods fast. He leans forwards and watches Marc’s pupils blow out, more ink spilling. He wants to write a letter with it, wants to draw something. “Then of course you should want me to be confident, so I can win. You know, that would make me very happy.”

Marc holds his eyes for a moment. They spark. He bites at his lip again.

“Really? You want to know what I like about you?”

“I do.”

“Can you do me a favor first?” Marc knocks back his tequila, then looks at Vale through his lashes. Coy. He can play.

“Hm,” Vale refuses to commit. He's curious, though, in more ways than one.

Marc could ask for anything, and Vale could decide whether or not to give it to him.

“I have something for you to sign.”

That’s easy—perfect, even. Vale looks around, Marc’s hands are empty, “Where is it?”

Marc grins suddenly, flavored with victory. Vale wonders how it tastes.

“Back at my hotel room.”

Once Vale has finished laughing, they go.

*

Still eager, still young, Marc kisses him before the door is even closed. Bites at his lips while Vale tries to talk, hands hungry on his body as if Vale’s going to take off and leave in the middle of the fucking hookup. He hears a door slam and smoothly suppresses a flinch. Marc doesn't see, which is good. He has a part to play here.

“Hey hey hey, you know, I know you are not famous,” Marc chuffs out a belly laugh, jajajas against Vale’s neck at the joke. “But paparazzi, they do follow me. I don’t want my picture in the paper next to my one night stand, it could ah,” Marc nips at his earring, plays with it with his tongue, lets Vale squeeze the muscle of his ass. “Ruin my reputation.”

“Is that what I am?” Marc breaks off of the hickey he was working onto the skin behind Vale’s ear and hooks two fingers into his belt, hauling him into the room. He kicks the door shut. “A one night stand?”

“I fly out tomorrow,” Vale lies regretfully, and Marc smirks at him a little too knowingly, then drops to his knees.

“You asked me what I liked about you,” He says, working at Vale’s belt, his fly. Vale flips off his shirt, toes off his shoes.

“I did,” He starts, and Marc leans in.

When he’s got him out, he takes the head into his mouth, throat working in slick sounds as he slides further down, starts to work the base in his hand. Vale works not to moan, biting the inside of his cheek, and he thinks Marc cant tell, because he looks up at him like he would smile, if not for Vale’s cock in his mouth.

“I like that,” Marc says once he pulls off, wiping a little at his face in a prissy sort of movement. His lips are shining, a bruised, swollen red color, and there’s still some spit sloppy on his chin. He leans forward and licks at the blunt head, one broad, flat, long stroke that makes Vale’s toes curl from the power of the sensation, the vulnerability of it, and then he stays close. Speaks with his lips against the delicate, overheated skin of Vale’s dick. “Will that help you win?”

Vale catches his breath, blows out some air from his cheeks, loosely curling a hand in the mess of Marc’s curls. He feels out of sorts, off balance. Thrilled.

“Well, you know it cannot hurt,” Masking how eager he is with a joke, to lance the sensation, make it a little less keen. How bad he wants it. it’s not even new, he’s been in this position hundreds of times— it shouldn’t feel like it is. He shouldn’t need it like this, like if Marc walks out of the room he’d be taking a chunk of Vale with him.

“So, ah.” He covers, remembers what he should say. “What was it that you wanted me to sign?”

Marc giggles and stands, shucking off his clothes as he does. Smooth skin, built thighs, compact body full of muscle and scar tissue. Vale looks hungrily. His cock is hard and big, hanging between his legs.

Oblivious to Vale's eyes or pretending to be, Marc sits on the bed and gestures to his body, twirls the marker between his fingers. “Could you?” He asks sweetly, and Vale realizes that what Marc wants him to sign is himself. 

His dick throbs. This kid.

“Where?” He asks, smoothing a smooth hand over Marc’s shoulder and gently pushing him back against the bed. Marc arranges himself against the pillows easily, boyish smile huge on his face.

“Wherever you want,” And Vale kneels over him, sits back on the solid shape of his torso so he can feel Marc’s big dick twitch against him, get that feedback. Vale settles, surveys, palms himself. Marc swallows.

“I think here,” He muses, splaying his fingers like a frame and holding them above Marc’s right nipple. 

“Does that look right to you?”

“Yeah,” Marc breathes. 

He plucks the marker from Marc’s fingers, asks, “Is there anyone I should make out the message too?”

His brown eyes are wide, bottom eyelashes spiky against his cheek. Butter wouldn’t melt. “No,”

“No one? No boyfriend? Girlfriend?” He's trailing his other hand over Marc’s pecs now, pinching at his nipple to see him squirm, tease him a little. Hips buck up, rubbing his erection against Vale’s ass and blurting a wet streak of pre-come there.

“There is someone— an older guy from around here, but we haven’t slept together yet so I don’t know if he’s, how do you say it in Italian— leading me on,” Marc says impatiently, still trying to fuck up against Vale, and Vale laughs, spits, and starts to work himself in his hand.

“Okay, okay,” He uncaps the marker with his mouth and positions his other hand over the smooth skin of Marc’s chest. He signs his name, Valentino Rossi, in silver against golden skin, and Marc shudders, a full body tremor, as the nib drags over his skin in a practiced stroke. His mouth drops open, still pink from Vale’s cock, and Vale presses his thumb hard against the nipple when he finishes, and throws the marker on the floor.

"God," is dragged out of Marc like he cant help it. Vale doesn't know if he's talking to him or not. He fists himself from tip to base.

His hand picks up its pace, fixes on the shine of his name on Marc, the way he’s whining now, small noises as his he moves in little abortive thrusts against Vale’s thigh. He grinds down, braces his free hand on Marc’s tit, framing it, and runs his mouth, mindless, says Marc’s name over and over until it's all he can think, all he can think.

“Marc, Marc,” He murmurs, and his dick kicks in his hand, and he comes, stunned, all over his name splashed across Marc’s chest. He makes a noise, one he can't help, and finds that he barely minds.

Marc doesn't let him recover, his hips still shoving upward, his hands an urgent grip on Vale’s thigh.

“Vale,” He whines, demanding, and without really thinking Vale scoots backward, bending down and sucking Marc into his mouth, working him over hard, until he can hear Marc make a noise and twist his fingers into the fabric of the sheets. He looks up at his face, at the color high on his face and the furrow of his brow as he pants. He wants to see it happen. Wants to make sure.

One suck, two sucks, and then a flood— Marc tensing and twisting, thighs coming up to Vale’s temples, and it’s over, Marc twitching and gasping through the aftershocks, the silver of the marker and Vale’s come shiny on his chest. 

“That was fun,” He says dreamily, and Vale hums, feels a little dizzy. He wants to bite at Marc’s thigh, so he does. He'd rather taste sweat than come. Rather mark him in more ways than one, than two. Wants it any way that he can have it.

Marc pets his head lazily, rucking up the sweaty curls in a familiar motion, and then reaches over to the nightstand and puts on his wedding ring, twisting it down his finger.

“We should do that again,” He sits up to grab his phone— probably checking messages from Álex. Vale crawls up to flop next to him, leaning over the bed and grabbing a t-shirt to mop up the mess on Marc’s chest. He doesn’t like to be sticky for too long.

“Yes, yes we should,” He agrees.

Marc hums.

“Next time, I get to be the rider, I think.”

“Really? Eight time champion Marc Marquez picking up fans in bars? I could tell the papers.” He tosses the shirt over his shoulder.

Marc shoots him a look over his phone, then reaches, hand catching at Vale’s wrist and hauling him back close.

“Oh, but I thought I was not famous.”

Vale grins, collapses in to hear Marc grunt at the crush of his weight, to press his face against the soft skin of Marc’s armpit. He traces his name, and then traces Marc's scar.

“Caught that, did you?”

Marc winds an arm around his back. Keeps him there.

“Hm, yeah I did.”

“I was getting into character.”

“The character is you.”

“Yes, and I am a funny guy.” Vale says, and then he reaches up to turn off the light.

[4rainynite]

Shows That Deserve a Second Chance!

Hi! How y'all doing? Okay, time to get to the nitty gritty this is just my opinion on shows that deserve a second chance!

As we all know by now it doesn't matter if a show is popular or big the fandom is a show will get cancelled for no (and incredibly stupid) reason or never got to make it on the TV screen at all!

Due to Tumblr's limitation on pictures, I'll just do a select few series based on: never aired, messed up by the network but still had an ending, & messed up by the network.

Also, no show is in any particular order I just put them in randomly and if there are more shows that have been unjustly cancel/ never aired please be free to add some to the post.

This is purely for fun and if there is a show you like that got cancelled you may add it to the list.

Let's Begin:

First, are the shows that never aired but had amazing pilots.

1.The Modifiers

The Modifiers was created by Lynne Naylor & Chris Reccardi who pitched the idea to Nickelodeon.

The series is set in 1960's mod style/ steampunk/ magical girl/retrofuturism world focused on Agent Xero and her sidekick Mole who work for a secret agency known as The Modifiers in their quest to stop the evil Baron Vain and his rat sidekick named Rat (no, really, he's a rat named Rat). In the series Agent Xero disguises herself as Lacey Shadows to go undercover and foil Baron Vain plans, the twist of Rat knows that Agent Xero and Lacey Shadows are one in the same and tries to expose them.

Seeing how the modifiers had the same reteo style as My Life As A Teenage Robot, The Mighty B, and Hi Hi Puffy AmiYumi (owned by Cartoon Network), it would've made a great addition to the line up plus another girl boss series!

Despite the positive feedback and petitions the show has not been picked up and Chris Reccardi tragically passed away 2019 due to a heart attack, leaving ownership to Lynne Naylor.

PILOT, INFO

2.Carmen Got Expelled

Carmen Got Expelled was created by Jorge R. Gutierrez and was pitched to Disney Television Animation.

The series follows a young girl named Carmen who was expelled from her last school from defending her classmates from a group of bullies. While it looks like Carmen will face punishment (for actually doing the right thing and being a good person), good - karma steps in the form of The Baron who enrolls Carmen in his private academy. Sadly, Headmistress Gnarly and her niece Yvonne try to do everything in their power to get Carmen in trouble and get her expelled for good. Luckily, Carmen has her friends Bing, Ozzy, and Johnny (*coughCRUSHcough*) to get her out of trouble!

The reason the show wasn't picked was because the network didn't think it would do well with audience and wanted Carmen's race to be changed and be a girl who loves rules. WOW, REALLY?!? I think if Jorge pitched the idea to Nickelodeon, it might have worked since his show El Tigre: The Adventures of Manny Rivera was already on that channel and would've made a good crossover.

After being rejected, Jorge worked on The Book of Life film that also was rejected for a while only to become a- SUCCESS!

PILOT, INFO

3. The Kitty Bobo Show

The Kitty Bobo Show was created by Kevin Kaliher & Meaghan Dunn and was pitched to Cartoon Network during their 2001 Big Pick competition where the viewers picked who would win. The winner became the classic show Codename: Kids Next Door!

The series focused on Kitty Bobo an anthropomorphic cat living in a big city along with other anthropomorphic animals and had it continued would've explored more of Kitty Bobo, his adoptive parents who are dogs, and his friends. In the pilot 'Cellphones' the plot was of Kitty Bobo trying to look cool and impress everyone with his new (now dated) cellphone.

The show is now a cult classic and had many petitions to become an actual show. Apparently, the creators want to continue the pilot from this Instagram post. If it does happen, I think it would work best teens/young adults on Adult Swim.

PILOT, INFO, 1

4.Princess Academy

Princess Academy was created by Olivier Ciappa and David Kawena and was pitched to Disney. It was supposed to be an animated short that was also a musical not just featuring the famous Disney Princesses, but also many other female leads at a boarding school. Sadly, the project was canceled due to Disney getting rid of its 2-D animation department (another bad decision).

This is just an educated guess, but from the concept art a little girl got accept into the Princess Academy and got to interact with her favorite characters and at the end of the short more students would arrive and meet their favorite leading ladies.

Seeing how big the Disney Princess fandom is, I'm surprised this was passed up. I mean HELLO! You got all the Disney Princesses and the other female leads in one place, I think this would've been a success!

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5. Oswald the Lucky Rabbit the Series

Oswald the Lucky Rabbit the Series was planned to premier on Disney+ and had many announcements and people excited for the return of Oswald, only to be disappointed (AGAIN!) when news hit they weren't doing the show.

After, all poor Oswald has gone through: Walt losing custody over him in divorce court, abandoned, and forgotten; give the poor guy a break and let him have his show!

Despite all that Oswald has made cameos in Mickey Mouse shorts, The Wonderful World of Mickey Mouse, Once Upon A Studio, and his own short. There's still hope he'll join his brother again soon.

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6. Epic Mickey 3

After, the return of Oswald and success of Epic Mickey, there were plans for an Epic Mickey 3, but sadly never came.

This would've helped Oswald's popularity and maybe make Epic Mickey into a TV/movie series featuring the two brothers, but at this time that's wishful thinking.

INFO

7. Milky Way and the Galaxy Girls

Created by Lauren Faust pitched to Hasbro.

The series would focus on eleven girls who are the personifications of planets. The pilot was about Milky Way accidently releasing the evil Black Hole and would meet the other girls to help fight. Sadly, it was passed over in favor of the popular My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic.

Lauren had ragdolls and a (now out of print) book released in hopes of making it a series, she even has some concept art on her Deviantart page.

Over time Lauren redesigned the girls so hopes and wishes that it becomes a series!

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8. Toil and Trouble

Created by Lauren Faust pitched to Netflix.

Lauren tried to pitch the series Toil and Trouble freaturing an orphan witch named Toil and her cat Trouble as they try to learn magic and save the witch world.

When, production for the project began Netflix decided to stop the show before it began.

SERIOUSLY, HOW DARE WHOEVER DECIDED TO CAN THIS SHOW DENY THE QUEEN HER RIGHT TO CREATE!

This so would've made a hit especially since Laurn worked on: The Powerpuff Girls, MLP:FIM, Kid Cosmic, Wander Over Yonder, and etc! But, not to worry y'all Lauren still has the rights and will most likely have it produced by someone else (hopefully)!

INFO, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

9. Me and My Shadow

Me And My Shadow created by Maya Forbes & Wallace Wolodarsky and pitched to Dreamworks.

Me And My Shadow follows Daniel (human) and Dan (shadow) as they two work together to stop an evil shadow from staring an uprising against shadows and humans. Along the way Dan help Daniel gain some confidence and form a friendship.

THIS FILM HAD SO MUCH POTENTIAL!

It merged 2D & 3D animation, had an amazing story, a good cast of characters; what more could you want?

Sadly, it was passed over by other films and despite protest and a petition Dreamworks refused to budge.

Not only would this film bring back Dreamworks animation department and could've been a rise for 2D animation to come back!

INFO, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

10. Bye Bye Bunny: A Looney Tunes Musical

Bye Bye Bunny would be about Bugs Bunny tired of being in the spotlight and wanting the life of a regular bunny. This becomes Daffy's big break to step out of Bug's shadow and become a star only to be kidnapped by an obsessive fan of his (talk about irony). Bugs and the others go on an epic quest to save Daffy with hijanks, adventure, and heartfelt moments.

Sadly, the project was canceled which is a huge crime. The story was the perfect star wants to leave the spotlight, we could've seen more of Bugs and Daffy's friendship, and the song 'Why Do I Gotta Be Bugs Bunny' was just so heart wrenching beautiful. This would've been great to release during Warner Bros. 100 Anniversary and give the Looney Tunes franchise some more attention.

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2. Shows messed up by the network but still had an ending

The Owl House

The Owl House created by Dana and aired on Disney.

The Owl House followed the story of Luz a teenage girl who has a love all things weird and magically gets sent to a 'normal' camp after one of her antics get her in trouble. But as fate intervened Luz stumbles upon the Boiling Isles and meets Eda the Owl Lady, King the king of demons, and Hooty the Owl House. To fulfill her dreams of becoming a witch Luz becomes Eda apprentice and explores the mysterious of the Boiling Isles.

The Owl House was a huge hit with fans and the LGBTQ community, and it bites that it was cancelled/shortened during season three. Dana had more ideas for season 3 for example: a beach episode, info on Hooty (don't lie we all want to know what Hooty is), and etc.

The reason the Owl House was canceled was because Disney exs didn't think it fit into their brand... What fit? They threw away a precious gemstone in the trash when they made that decision.

Dana Terrace, whatever your next project is I know it will be a success.

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2. Ducktales (2017)

Ducktales (2017) created by Matt Youngberg & Francisco Angones and aired on Disney.

Ducktales follows Huey, Dewey, Louie, their friend Webby, uncle Donald, and great uncle Scrooge, as they go on epic adventures, find rare items & hidden worlds, and a long-lost family secret.

Ducktales had a great start and a huge fanbase, but sadly it wasn't getting the ratings Disney wanted, switching channels, and bad marketing.

I really wish this show continued and had each character have their own season, but it did have a good ending.

INFO

3. Danny Phantom

Danny Phantom created by Butch Hartman and aired on Nickelodeon.

Danny Phantom follows the story of Danny Fenton who gained ghosts powers after a freak accident. With his best friends Tucker and Sam, Danny uses his powers to protect everyone against evil ghosts, humans, and the horrors of high school. To make matters worse Danny has to keep his ghost identity a secret from his parents who are ghost hunters!

Despite the show's popularity it didn't reach the same goal as Fairly Oddparents or Spongebob (or so I'm told). Despite that Danny Phantom had an ending, but it was kinda a divide in the fandom.

It was said had the series continued: we'd find out more about the Ghost Zone, more characters, and most importantly: Danielle would've been adoptive by the Fentons!

4. The Amazing World of Gumball

The Amazing World of Gumball created by Ben Bocquelet and aired on Cartoon Network.

The Amazing World of Gumball follows the story of Gumball as he gets into random shenanigans in his town of Elmore along with his best friend/adoptive brother Darwin, and little sister Anais.

The show has been praised for its mixed media animation, humor, and storytelling. The last episode ended in a cliffhanger leaving many fans unsatisfied.

There were plans for a movie that Ben said would resolve the cliffhanger only for it to be shelved (along with other shows/movies) due to the HBO (HB -NO). I tried to find more information, but the only other information I found was that it 'might' still be in production and be bought by a different network. Again, I'm playing by ear.

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5. Wander Over Yonder

Wander Over Yonder was created by Craig McCracken and aired on Disney.

Wander Over Yonder follows the story of a friendly alien nomad named Wander with his best friend and stead Sylvia travel all over the galaxy going from planet to planet. While on their journey they run into Lord Hater who wants to take over the galaxy.

Disney ended WOY after season 2 and there were plans for a season 3 and would've been the final season.

Craig had plans to expand the story that didn't happened (maybe even travel to Earth?); after WOY cancellation Craig went to work on Kid Cosmic for Netflix.

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6. Samurai Jack

Samurai Jack was created by Genndy Tartakovsky and aired on Cartoon Network.

Samauri Jack follows the story of a Samauri named Jack and his battle with the evil demon Aku. Before Jack can defeat Aku with his sword Aku uses his powers and sends Jack into the future where Aku is the ruler. Jack travels through many lands in his search to find a way to the past, fix the future, and defeat Aku!

The only problem with the final episode was it took - 13 YEARS - to finish! Adult Swim revived the series in 2017 giving the fans a satisfying ending.

Everyone originally thought that season four that ended in 2004 would end in a cliffhanger. I guess that if it did end around the early 2000's the ending would be different since Genndy and the crew would've had other ideas. I'm happy that the series had the ending it had, but let's be honest do we really want to wait so long for a proper ending?

3. Shows messed up by the network

Infinity Train

Infinity Train was created by Owen Dennis and aired on Cartoon Network.

Infinity Train was at first a mini-series that focused on Tulip a young girl who's dealing with the divorce of her parents decides to run away from home to escape her home life. Tulip ends up on the mysterious Infinity Train and meets a robotic creature known as One-One and a strange green glowing number on her hands. Knowing the longer she's on the train the more danger she's in Tulip, One-One, and Atticus the King of Corginia, travel throughout the train to find The Conductor and send Tulip on. Afterwards we see different passengers travel the train going through different types of traumas and learning to heal.

Despite Owen having a total of eight books ( book five being Ameila's backstory), a passenger being traumatized by the train only to return on it, and even a Christmas special, Infinity Train went to HBO Max streaming service, was canceled after book 4 because execs decided it wasn't fit for kids and became one of many victims of the 2022 HBO Purge.

After much protest from the TV/FILM community Infinity Train books 1 & 2 can now be purchased on DVD (not giving up on the other books) and downloaded from online stores.

Once again, a great show canceled and destroyed by corporate greed!

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2.Ever After High

Ever After High was created by Mattel books by Shannon Hale & Suzanne Selfors.

Ever After High focus on the teenage sons & daughters (and non-binary) of legendary fairy tales. The children are sent to Ever After High School to learn how to follow the same steps as their parents. But Raven Queen the daughter of the Evil Queen, isn't evil and doesn't want to follow in her mother's footsteps. On the other hand, Apple White the daughter of Snow White wants to follow in her mother's footsteps and be the perfect queen. This divides the school into two separate parties: the Royals (those who want to follow their predetermined destinies) and the Rebels (those who want to rewrite their stories) and causes a shift in the fairy tale world.

Being a toy line Ever After High relied on their doll sells to fuel the books and web series. After Disney's Descendants release Mattel knew they couldn't compete, ending the Royal/Rebel debate too early, and cheaper doll lines the series was canceled.

There were plans for more dolls, books, and sadly characters that have been seen since the beginning never got dolls.

In my honest opinion they shouldn't have ended the Royal/Rebel debate in Way Too Wonderland, that's more of a final season kinda thing and it's hard to come up with more stories after jumping the shark like that.

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3.Star Darlings

Star Darlings was created by Shana Muldoon Zappa and Ahmet Zappa.

Star Darlings was a book and miniseries focused on twelve Starling girls (humanoid creatures who live on Starland) who attend the prodigies Starling Academy to learn to grant wishlings (humans) wishes only to find out they are the legendary Star Darlings destined to save their world and Wish World (Earth) from negative energy!

Honestly Star Darlings was a victim of bad advertising and Disney no giving it enough attention. The books had so much information on the characters, lore, and etc. while the cartoon only had shorts and was on random times. The cartoon had an ending, but the books were left on a cliffhanger.

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4. Super Best Friends Forever/ DC Super Hero Girls (2019)

Created by Lauren Frost and aired on Cartoon Network.

I'm listing this as a two-parter.

Super Best Friends Forever was a series of shorts featuring Batgirl, Wonder Girl, and Supergirl, three superhero teens fighting crime and getting into hilarious hi-jinks.

Lauren was denied turning SBFF into a series due to marketing.

In 2019 Lauren would later do the second installment of DC Super Hero Girls another group of superhero girls who battle the evils of high school and Metropolis.

Many fans argued which version is superior.

To be honest I wish Donna wasn't replaced with Diana, Diana and Zatanna weren't de-aged along with a bunch of other adult characters, the adult heroes were mentors to the girls, could've added more teen heroes that still haven't made their TV debut, not make the guys jerks/useless, and the setting wasn't just in Metropolis. But that's just my two cents.

INFO, 1, 2, 3, 4

5. RWBY & Camp Camp

RWBY created by Monty Oum & Camp Camp created by Miles Luna and Jordan Cwierz both aired on Rooster Teeth.

RWBY story is about the four members of Team RWBY (Ruby, Weiss, Blake, and Yang) who attend Beacon Academy to become huntsmen and huntswomen to protect the world from evil creatures known as Grimm, but as the series progresses, we learn more about the characters, lore, and world of Remnant.

Camp Camp focuses on campers (Max, Nikki, and Neil) & camp counselors (David and Gwen) who attend a shady & dysfunctional run-down camp known as, Camp Campbell. Instead of a traditional camp like space camp, sports camp, or adventure camp, Camp Campbell combines them all to save cost and avoid being sued.

While I was at school my art teacher told the class that a famous artist had died from an allergic reaction, but she neglected to tell who the artist was. Later on, I found out about RWBY and Camp Camp and while digging into the shows' history/ creators I realized Monty Oum was the artist my teacher was talking about.

Due to Rooster Teeth shutting down both series futures are in the air. I was lucky enough to meet Michael and Lindsey Jones the voice actors from RWBY and Camp Camp & a cool Oscar cosplayer LINK. I overheard him asking them when the next season for each show would come out, both replied that "I can't promise anything.", and that scared me a little. I really hope new seasons come out soon since I would hate for both series to go.

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6. Invader Zim

Invader Zim created by Jhonen Vasquez and aired on Nickelodeon.

Invader Zim focused on an Invader named Zim of the Irken Empire who wants to impress his leaders, The Tallest, after failing Operation Impending DOOM 1 after he destroyed his own planet. The Tallest give him a snipe hunt by sending him to the planet Earth. On Earth Zim disguises as a normal *HA* human boy and his SIR unit named Gir as an adorable green dog as they collect info on the planet to conquer it. Unfortunately, Zim forms a rivalry with a junior paranormal investigator named Dib who tries to prove to everyone that Zim is an evil alien.

The show was very popular at the time even having merchandise still being produced to this day. The reason for the shows cancellation was due to low rating and high costs even though there were many unaired episodes.

In 2015 Invader Zim continued as a comic book series and in 2019 Netflix aired Invader Zim: Enter the Florpus. Invader Zim doesn't really have a true ending, so I guess either the comic book ending or Enter the Florpus could count as an ending, maybe?

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7. Dead End: Paranormal Park

Dead End: Paranormal Park was created by Hamish Steele and aired on Netflix.

Dead End first appeared in a Cartoon Hangover short in 2014 and later became the book series in 2018.

Book and TV show follow the story of Barney, Norma, Pugsley, and Courtney who work at Phoenix Parks a haunted theme park where they battle demons, find out the mystery behind the park owner Paulina Phoenix, and maybe stop the apocalypse!

Dead End: Paranormal Park was not renewed by Netflix due to budget cuts (really, I mean really?) and Hamish planned to have the third season air on a different streaming network. While the cartoon ended with a cliffhanger the book series had an ending.

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8. Detentionaire

Detentionaire was created by Daniel Bryan Franklin & Charles Johnston and aired on Teleton.

Detentionaire follows the story of Lee Ping who has pulled off the most epic prank in A. Nigma High history, but there's just one tiny problem - Lee didn't do it! Framed for a prank he didn't commit Lee has to spend a year in detention (and grounded), determined to find out who pranked him and why Lee teams up with Biffy another detentionaire and his friends to get down to what's going on and darker secrets at A. Nigma High.

Due to low ratings and not too much viewership the show ended on a cliffhanger.

I came across Detentionaire while watching Ruby Gloom on YouTube (I live in the US so there were no channels featuring the shows) lucky for me it was in the middle of season one when it was still on air and I got to watch the series (when uploaded to Youtube).

LINK

9. Sym- Bionic Titan/ Unicorn: Warriors Eternal

Sym- Bionic Titan/ Unicorn: Warriors Eternal created by Genndy Tartakovsky and aired on Cartoon Network.

I'm listing this as a two-parter too.

Sym-Bionic Titan focuses on Princess Ilana, Soldier Lance, and Advance Robot Octus who had to flee their home planet Galaluna when the evil General Modula. General Modula sends out monsters to kill Princess Ilana and destroy the royal Galaluna bloodline once and for all! When, the three combine they form Sym-Bionic Titan to battle the monsters. The three blend into Earth culture by pretending to be a family, owning a home, and going to high school to draw suspicion off them. On top of that two government parties are investigating them and their relationship to the Titan. As the three protect their new home they are trying to find a way to return to Galaluna.

I'll be honest I'm not a huge sci-fi fan, but I did enjoy the series during its run. The story and art style were amazing as well.

The reason Sym-Bionic Titan was cancelled was because it was unable to secure a toy license. Oh please, there's a bunch of shows without a toy line and they ran/ or still running. The series ended with a 'ray of hope ending' after production Genndy left Cartoon Network and began working on other projects.

Only to return in the form of Unicorn: Warriors Eternal which focus on four individuals who are the reincarnations of past warriors sent to fight an ancient evil from plaguing the world.

The series had a good old timey animation art style with the steampunk aesthetic. Sadly, it like its sibling series ended on a cliffhanger.

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10. Justice League Action

Justice League Action created by Sam Register, Butch Lukic, Alan Burnett, and Jim Krieg.

Justice League Action focused on the Justice League a team of superheroes protect the world from supervillains. Each episode featured a different set of heroes defeating their foe and giving everyone extra screentime.

Justice League Action had a special when it first came out only to get bad timeslots and was never renewed.

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10. Teen Titans

Teen Titans was created by Glen Murakami & David Slack and aired on Cartoon Network.

The series focused on five superhero teens known as the Teen Titans who battle evil villains both in their home of Jump City and the Earth. Their biggest threat being Slade (Deathstroke in the comics) a mysterious man bent on conquering Jump City & destroying the Teen Titans,

Teen Titans was one of Cartoon Network's successful cartoons with high praise from critics and fans it's a mystery why the show was canceled. Once fans found out that Teen Titans was threatened to be canceled there were protests to see it not happened. The reasons for the cancellation ranged from low ratings, decline in toy sales, wanting to work on other shows, and etc. I believe the show was cancelled was because the execs could (JERKS!).

There have been spin-offs of the series such as the 'Titans in Tokyo' film to act as "the ending" of the series, DC nation Teen Titans shorts, and (the infamous) Teen Titans Go series that has had many specials, a movie, and is still on air.

The things I wish that could happen in the show are: Wonder Girl was a member of the team to even the gender out (I hate that even to this day shows only have 1 or 2 girls on a team), the second season Terra still appeared but it was Wonder Girl's season (to give Terra more screen time and make the betrayal hurt more) than third would be Terra's and every season would go on as normal, Starfire having a season, and the finale season focused on everyone! But that's just my two cents.

There have been rumors of season six (maybe) happening. I mean Samurai Jack and Invader Zim came back after their cancellations. If Teen Titans were to return, it would be on Adult Swim.

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Conclusion:

Okay, and we're done.

To be honest the reason I made this post is because I want to pursue a career in writing, animation, and voice acting.

After the news of HBO's purge and many others, I had a major panic attack because if one greedy person could make the call to erase years and dreams of hard work no matter how popular the shows are or well known the creators are what chance did I have?

I have auditioned for many things only to be in 'always the bridesmaid never the bride' position so it gets heartbreaking after a while. But, with indie works such as The Amazing Digital Circus, Murder Drones, Spooky Month, The Art of Murder, and Puzzle & Sling: Boredom Killers getting recognized and receiving high praise it kinda gives me a spark of hope despite everything.

Thank you for taking the time to read my article. Bye y'all!

Special mentions: The Prodigal Son (FOX), The Summoning (Cartoon Hangover), Super Robot Monkey Team Hyperforce Go! (Disney) Welcome to Doozy (Cartoon Hangover), Victor and Valentino (Cartoon Network), The Cuphead Show (Netflix), Class of 3000 (Cartoon Network), Cartoon Saloon version of Winnie the Pooh, and etc (like I said before you can add to the list).

[katerinaaqu]

What's your opinion on how Telemachus was handled in Epic (so far) ? I'm curious 😀.

And what is different from his Odyssey portrayal ? Not counting the fanart that infantilizes him, I'm strictly talking about the musical itself.

Hahahaha you guys definitely wanna put me against a wall one of these days! XD But I absolutely LOVE this question! Hahaha okay here goes;

Absolutely I wasn't gonna talk about the fanart and all that is part of the designing process and arguably that is part of every person to do. They could easily choose the depiction more Odyssey-accurate and still use the musical sound so yes you do well to mention it because yes I myself wouldn't touch the design part in this ask

Anyways long story short; I don't like it.

Storywise it is overly-simplified and shows only one portion of his possible emotions; the one that tries to connect with his father. That part is genuine and I see where the portrayal such as the song "Legendary" came from. Arguably Homer himself also touches the subject of glory through one's deeds and I see where the musical came from when Telemachus says what he says but the song was too bbbly, too naive portrayal of Telemachus and in a way completely disregarded the true depth of sadness and depression in Telemachus.

In the Odyssey Telemachus never connected to his father because his father was never there. To the point where he was even doubting whether he was his son or not. He basically says that "everyone calls me that but how can I know? The dude was never there. Possibly never will be here again". His whole energy was the total opposite than Epic.

Epic portrays Telemachus in a manner that reminds me of Disney's Little Mermaid in "Part of your world"; a bubbly teenager who dreams to start his life or to be making a legendary name for himself like his father and in childish naive energy says "bring me all these monsters to fight them!" while in his childish naive nature was also making him afraid or worried to face the bullying of the suitors (the way the suitors were portrayed as if Jorge wanted to make them EVEN MORE evil also had me cringe like Antinous calling Penelope "tramp". Antinous called Penelope more or less "divious" because of her scheme against them but that was all. In here they are competing for her hand while calling her names without reason? Yeah right....). He seemed like the average teenager that needs the adult to get him to realize video games is not the life and that he needs to do something about his future! Does he also seem low-key sad? Yes. But just like Ariel in the Disney movie was pictured as a dreamer that wanted escape from his confided situation through bubbly and childish dreams.

Odyssey Telemachus was both emotionally and psychologically exhausted; his mother was taken down by grief and endless waiting and had confided herself in her chambers, trying her best to avoid the suitors that were at her home for FOUR YEARS, constantly crying at this point. Telemachus also saw his grandfather lose his mind in sorrow and his grandmother melting away by desperation and sadness and dying or potentially killing herself by it. The last thing he wanted was "to be legendary". In fact Telemachus gave me the exact opposite energy than a dreamer. He was very down to earth and his main goal was to get out of this nasty situation, trying to grow as a person to set himself free from this torment. He had so much in his plate that the last thing he wanted was to dream. In fact he gave me the impression of a person with no more the luxury of dreaming. He almost seemed crushed to the point of breaking himself almost like every other member of his family. (He gives me the impression of a person that after spent years of trying and fulflling their dreams now they are forced to work in a work they hate for survival and think that "dreams are for fools. No luxury for them!")

Like I said Menelaus described Telemachus as a spitting image of his father including his eyes, which is something I find the most important. Menelaus compared Telemachus's gaze to Odysseus; a man that fought a war with him! A man exhausted by the evil he saw and caused. Telemachus's profound grief was so intense that his look was equivalent to a man Menelaus fought a war with! He was the opposite of what we see in Epic! In fact we know that Telemachus was also very much silent and tried to keep a low profile so he didn't need to face the humiliation of the men that were literally plundering his wealth and harassing his mother and himself. The last thing he had in his mind would be to "be legendary". He was also plundered by the fact that not only was he doubting that Odysseus was his father per se but also he was in doubt that this Odysseus that everyone named his father would be alive or dead. He didn't know that. He was actually almost certain that Odysseus was dead but that part in the back of his head was not yet leaving him in peace which is why he needed Athena's guidance

Which brings me to the next part; Athena In Epic Athena appears to...give Telemachus the boost to fist-fight the suitors for some reason and mind you he still gets his ass handed at him! It made it seem as Telemachus's only problem was that he didn't have the guts or skills to fight the suitors and Athena gave him a solution! (potentially a message to stand up against bullies for teenagers? Perhaps but still I felt it massively undermined Telemachis's situation in the book) As I have answered to another person around here, Telemachus's problem was that the suitors claimed the law of hospitality and named themselves ODYSSEUS'S guests. Telemachus could not yet take over as king and he had no power to send them away. Plus he was plundered by doubt about his own inheritence. What Athena did was not to make Telemachus a fighter for he already was (we see how well he stands against them at the side of his father in the Odyssey) she came to encourage him to find out on his own.

Arguably the trip of Telemachus was a mirror counterpart of Odysseus's but instead of a trip that makes you lost like Odysseus was lost, it was a trip for self-discovery. Mind you, both the trip of Odysseus and the trip of Telemachus are cognitive trips; both characters learn in them and come in contact with places. Psychologically the trip allows Telemachus to escape this boarderline toxic grief in his home and explore the world. Also find out on his own information about his father. Now, arguably he never really finds out about his father's whereabouts for certain apart from Menelaus's vision but there is something he definitely gets out of his trip that is not talked about enough;

He finds out he REALLY is the son of his father and he gets information about what kind of man he was!

He hears from friends that fought with him how similar he looks to him; not just from his closed and secluded environment but of people outside his circle and his known people that he looks like him and they also give him information about him. No more the random comments the suitors he hated say or his sad mother who could either idealize his father to escape her grief or the loyal slave Euryclea who adored the family naturally like a mother; now it was also friends and known people of Odysseus that speak about him Telemachus is double-checking his information! Thus coming home much more confident on his inheritence and his own destiny and duty

Arguably the Odyssey is as much Telemachus's story as it is Odysseus's. Telemachus was in one way a spectrum of Odysseus; fighting a different type of war; losing himself in a different type of sadness. His story was a story of coming of age not a story of a goddess that teaches him how to stand up against bullies. Telemachus already does that in the Odyssey by calling the council. Arguably he was alays standing against the suitors but his position did not allow him to do something drastic! I think just like many things Epic missed this by a mile; reducing Telemachus's profound grief, sadness and uncertainty to an average teenage escapism story rather than the fact that Telemachus had no luxury or energy for escapism, Athena's advice for self-discovery to the average "raise your fists and fight your bullies" story ignoring the deep cultural details that led Telemachus to that tight spot in the first place and of course it completely abandoned the importance of Telemachus's trip which could be a subject of a movie on its own! (Quite frankly Telemacheia covers more chapters in the Odyssey than Odysseus's own flashback! It covers 5 rhapsodies of the Odyssey while Odysseus's story covers 3-4)

I hope this answers some questions! I will be happy to elaborate more.

[verdemint]

YESSSSS

like i'm so obsessed with this! jorge changing his number and logo and everything with changing managers AS HE SHOULD! (slay jorge slay), and choosing the little angel/demon thing. I'm not saying he copied vale but he may have been so inspired by the whole concept of a good and an evil in each one of us! and he was like wait I love this concept! jorge slowly discovering all the "there cant be good without evil" theories and slowly losing his mind about it.

And also he really loves to talk about himself, to explain, to create his own symbols! the butter and the hammer! he really has that need to express himself and it can feel quite reductive to call him just a theater kid at heart but that's exactly it! he wants to express himself, his art, his story and its not an easy thing to do if u embarked in a competitive motorsport at age 7

also i feel like this over explanation, this very on-the-nose type of symbolism is so different from vale's, who did put and give a whole narrative, symbols, secret names, secret jokes but he did it slowly in a way that they cemented themself in the general public understanding of valentino, while jorge had to keep up! to give more! to explain!

also super interesting those quotes from james toseland, like vale was perceived as genuine even with his over the top behaviour in front of the camera, he really was a bubbly character! his dark side, the moon, was there but maybe even to people watching the sport this switch from his sun and moon personality felt less forced, more smooth, more understandable, just like the day becoming night

while jorge with the over aggressiveness, him being so cocky: everything was perceived more negatively coz he was so different away from the cameras, the change from the two parts of him was too brash, too sudden, too big! like an angel and a demon, truly opposites!

RANDOM THOUGHT! BUT

jorge lorenzo choosing that dichotomy angel/demon as his symbol, u cant tell me he wasnt inspired by the sun/moon thing

Like come onnn

oh my god yeah. surely!! like you say, it's a dichotomy just like the sun/moon thing, and it's conceptually similar enough to valentino's that... surely... yeah. all about establishing this little network of symbols for himself, his own web of meaning - overtaking around the outside!! x-fuera!! lorenzo's land!! butter and hammer!! angel/demon!! - to build his own narrative about his career. and this tendency is obviously tied to his penchant for celebrations, where he ALSO has a complicated relationship to valentino. on the other hand he's very insistent that the whole thing was NOT originally inspired by valentino, but then on the other he's hyper aware of valentino's influence... so of course he wants his own set of codes too!! that are both inspired by valentino but doing his own thing! and yeah!! sun/moon vs angel/demon,, that does feel like!! surely!!

what I find interesting is how valentino doesn't really talk much about this sun/moon stuff, there's just a bunch of symbols and narratives and imagery he tosses in there sometimes without really verbalising why he's doing it. kinda leaving it up to others to read into it for the most part. whereas jorge is obviously... not like that, way more willing to actually discuss this stuff. there's clearly something appealing to him about the idea of having a 'good' and a 'dark' side, he likes all this self-reflection stuff, loves a bit of omphaloskepsis, wants to continually analyse himself and discover his inner truth or whatever. and if he'd seen all the sun/moon stuff growing up and was thinking how much he vibed with that kind of dichotomy... of course it's extremely jorge to want to put his own spin on something valentino did in this way. makes perfect sense

was thinking about this passage from jorge's biography, obviously not written by jorge directly but the whole thing was written in close collaboration with him --

The material for this book was therefore a little unusual and the only possible objective was to get to the bottom of this combative, glory-hunting rebel, who sometimes looks at the world with defiance and arrogance and at other times with fear and a burning desire to learn and be liked. The devil in him has probably become more famous than the angel, because there have been plenty of controversial stories written about Jorge in the past. But his intimate side is interesting as well, and it's never too late for you to get to know him.

-- which. lol. what a writing style. but anyway, I do think this ties into the appeal of the whole thing to jorge... he sees the two sides in fundamental opposition and also thinks the devil side is non-negotiable for professional athletes (true) but. but,,, the angel side is kinda like. what he's had inside him all along. the secret soft boi underneath the hard shell

and then there's a quote from yamaha stablemate james toseland,, where he's talking about jorge and valentino and it's kinda on a similar theme (x):

once the helmet's off, jorge's shy!! reserved!! a nice bloke!! the devil version is cocky and annoying, but he's also got this Other Side to him....

but yeah, unlike with valentino, we do actually have jorge himself talking a fair bit about this stuff. give us some insight into his thinking on this. like from 2013 --

-- where he's linking the branding to the 'devilish' number... the 99. he wants to be a good guy!! but he also can't lose his devilish side!! and this from from 2014 (x) --

-- where he's saying he's more of a devil than an angel because of the nature of competition. and this from 2017 (x) --

-- which. fascinated by the idea that yamaha was like... no. no devil horns on our bike. in the same spirit as forcing him to work with a psychologist, a red line. he did finally get to add the devil's horns in his ducati time:

and lastly this from 2017, where he expands on his choice to switch to two devils (x):

it's all aggressively jorge, isn't it. like valentino, he's hyper aware of his personal branding and puts so, so much thought into it. but he's more talkative about it than valentino is, just a bit more earnest about the whole thing. still talking about switching numbers, getting rid of the manager linked to the original '48'... of course that was hugely meaningful to him, of course he takes these branding exercises very seriously as a means for self-expression. also very endeared by him talking at several points about how he's more of an angel now, he's striving to be more of an angel, the angel as an ideal etc etc. BUT the demon/devil is non-negotiable and a part of him he must also embrace... to achieve his internal balance... but now that he's got TWO devils, he interprets the devil as being more mischief than evil. fascinating

and it's very valentino in how jorge finds a way to tie this into his own arc!! "special tastes that may not be understood by everyone" - Your Fave Is Queer-Coded lol - but also the point is that it's very much an expression of individuality, him determined to make his peace with being a bit of a rebel, a non-conformist, his own guy etc etc. the valentino commitment to self-narrativisation, this tendency to refer back to his own past work and build on it. very valentino-esque commitment to the drama of it all, the theatre of talking about The Angel and The Devil inside himself,, he's so sincere about it, so dedicated to verbalising what these two sides mean to him at different stages of his career, what it means for him to balance them. he needs the devil!! he's becoming more of an angel!! the devil is an inevitable part of competitive sports!! he's getting himself two devils!! the two devils are about mischief not evil!! and so on

MY random thought I'd somehow never had before is that. given that this is jorge's whole... thing, isn't it kinda funny that valentino repeatedly used 'god' and 'devil' to describe casey?? I mean to be clear this definitely wasn't aimed at jorge, it predates the jorge rivalry and certainly the angel/devil thing, it's just kind of funny. valentino, jorge would have loved you to use those descriptors for him!! but no, it was very much a casey thing to valentino,, he deploys the 'devil' label once each for two other riders (toseland and elias) but not for any of his other major rivals afaik. valentino uses the word to talk about casey as early as 2007 and as late as 2011 -- for whatever reason, this is very much linked to casey in his mind. annoying

anyway. yeah. I agree with you -- I think it's got to be very likely that jorge was on some level inspired by the sun/moon thing. similar conceptually in terms of exploring his inner dichotomy or whatever, a way of building on his own little network of symbols, him once again wanting to put his own spin on some rossi magic. and he stuck with it a long time!! he adopted the symbols in 2008, in a period of personal turmoil and also during his first year as valentino's teammate. and so he dealt with all the stress and the change and the trouble and the heartache by: coming up with a new number, figuring out all the ways said new number was weighty and meaningful to him, thought of new symbols that would fit in with this rebrand, made it all part of his Journey of Personal Growth. probably inspired by valentino - it is just quite similar the more you think about it!! the balance between valentino's light and dark side, of course jorge would vibe with that. and it makes sense for jorge to look to valentino for inspiration on that kind of thing!! and then he made it into a Whole Thing... very sweet

[dangermousie]

2023 End of Year Post - kdrama edition

Yes, we have a some of December left, and I want to check out Death's Game but whatever. I got time for this now and not sure if I will have later so here goes.

This is only going to cover kdramas that aired in 2023; if I watched it but it was made in a different year, it’s not on the list. This was an excellent kdrama year, the likes of which we hadn't had in a long time.

DRAMAS WATCHED

In order of liking from least to most as opposed to pure quality so pls don't come for me, fans of some popular dramas that are on my nope list. Also, I am including if I’ve seen enough to make up my mind; yes I realize that’s inaccurate, but that’s my list.

33. The Escape of the Seven - this is so aggressively stupid and mean that it feels like the makers are playing a practical joke seeing how much their audience will take. This has a season 2 coming, so the answer is a lot.

32. Behind Your Touch - the FL gets superpowers by touching people's and animals' butts. Yes, you read this right. Do I really need to add anything?

31. King the Land - yes, it was a hit. Yes, it stars popular actors. I HATED IT LIKE IT TOUCHED MY BUTT TO GET SUPERPOWERS!!! Plastic people in paint by the numbers story, with about as much genuineness or retability as a barbie aisle in walmart. I never expect much from Yoona so whatever, but to have LJH go from The Red Sleeve to this boggles the mind.

30. Mrs Durian - this is so dumb that I think I lost a few IQ points watching this, but its insanity becomes entertaining - I mean what kdrama can you name where a daughter in law declares her love and lust for her mother in law at a family dinner?

29. The Matchmakers - there is nothing offensive about this drama at all. But there is nothing in the least interesting either. If elevator music took drama shape, it would be this show.

28. Destined with You - sorry, Rowoon, I am still fond of you, but you are two for two in drama duds department this year. This is a drama where I loved ep 1, liked ep 2, was indifferent to 3 and...you get the point. Each ep was worse than the one before, and I bailed before I was dragged into a cosmic singularity.

27. Oasis - great first two episodes. Unfortunately it was not a two ep show. The performances are solid but the story is just not there - the effect is like a fancy chef making an amazing sauce to put on pig slop.

26. Boyhood - it's not you, it's me in action. I can see why people would like it but a 34-year old playing a high schooler in a Weak Hero Class 1 Slapstick Edition is no go for me.

25. Castaway Diva - it's so precious and kooky in the most annoying ways, with the most well-adjusted abused castaway in history. I like magic realism when done by Jorge Amado, but this ain't Amado.

24. Island - it had a good concept, good cast and fun visuals but the execution deserved one of ML's swords through the neck.

23. The Worst of Evil - if I wanted an American show, I'd watch one. Very solid performances though.

22. Song of the Bandits - period edition of what I said about The Worst of Evil.

21. Welcome to Samdalri - and goodbye to any hope of emotional involvement.

20. Joseon Attorney - I have yet to like a single sageuk centered around a profession and this was not an exception. I guess it could be worse but it also could have been so much better.

19. Twinkling Watermelon - everyone loved this drama. Everyone except for me. It's the kind of precious that sets my teeth on edge and I couldn't stand half the main characters we were supposed to root for. I guess I like my fruits to shine steadily.

18. Our Blooming Youth - probably the biggest disappointment on this list. This is not a bad drama by any means, but with that cast and that story (I loved the novel), I was hoping for a memorable sageuk not merely all right.

17. Vigilante - it has the emotional complexity and nuance of a punch to the throat but it gives us quasi-gay openly-murderous dudes going after psychos and Yoo Ji Tae holding feral Nam Joo Hyuk by his hoodie at his feet.

16. The Forbidden Marriage - expected nothing but it was a surprisingly enjoyable trifle of a costume drama that was also quite pretty.

15. Arthdal Chronicles: Sword of Aramun - a hot mess but such an entertaining epic one. And it gave us TWO Lee Jun Kis in period gear and who am I to cavil at the bounty of God?

14. The Story of Park's Marriage - it's a trifle, a souffle, so light it might blow away, but it keeps my attention and is so fun and sweet.

13. My Lovely Liar - a huge surprise, that manages to mix a murder mystery and a romcom, and shocked me by showing Hwang Minhyun can act.

12. Tale of the Nine Tailed 1938 - the original ToNT was my fave drama of its year and I did not think it needed a sequel. But this is not a sequel but more of a side-quel and is such a total delight with brotherly love, adventures, romance and hijinks. It's a joy.

11. Perfect Marriage Revenge - it's actually very hard to do a soap right but this slim 12 ep drama managed. So fun, so crazy, such a good ship!

10. My Lovely Boxer - not really about sports, but about two broken people finding salvation because of and in each other. Also, if you like age gap romances, this is delicious. Sort of loses steam by the end but c’est la vie.

9. The Secret Romantic Guesthouse - this was a sageuk that was not on my radar with a bunch of actors I was not familiar with but it took my heart away. A good plot that was perfectly paced, characters and ships I adored, a logical ending. This is one of the biggest positive surprises of the year for me.

8. Tell Me That You Love Me - a slice of life remake (sort of, it's more "inspired by") of my favorite jdrama of all time. It's not as good as the jdrama because nothing could be, but it's an aching lovely story with some incredible performances.

7. See You In My 19th Life - funny and romantic and haunting and hopeful and odd. This was one of my favorites of the year.

6. Alchemy of Souls: Light and Shadow - it's rare for me to like a (1) sequel (2) with FL actress change (3) that is a Hong Sisters drama. But this was such a gorgeous, surprisingly achy story of love and loss and love regained with some cool monster fighting in the middle. Between the two seasons, this is the first Hong Sisters' drama I enjoyed from beginning to end in well over a decade.

5. My Demon - so tropey (chaebols, supernaturals) but it proves that these tropes are popular for a reason. The chemistry is fire, the story is unpredictable and the whole thing is an addictive delight. A rare drama where I like each new ep more than the last one.

4. Goryeo Khitan War - an old school sageuk in every meaning of the term (no romance, no eye candy, lots of bearded men, battles and politics), this feels like watching an epic movie more than a drama. The vast cast all earns their place and the performances (mainly from character actors given a chance to shine) are incredible.

3. Call It Love - two very very damaged people finding love and healing with each other. This is a narrative very hard to do to my satisfaction but when it's done well, as here, there are few things that can hold a candle to it.

2. My Dearest - a masterpiece of cinematography, narrative, performances. This is an old-school epic romance in the best sense of the term. If it doesn't make you swoon or break your heart, there is something wrong with you. A story of two untraditional, strong-willed, flawed people who fall in love in the middle of the horrifying Qing invasion of Korea and have to deal with all that the world throws at them, this is a bona fide masterpiece.

1 - Moon in the Day - who knew my favorite kdrama of the year will star a store brand Domyoji from Extraordinary You and an actress I was never familiar with. But this part period/part modern fantasy tale of doomed cursed lovers is everything I knew I wanted and everything I didn't know I wanted but did. Two lovers where their love did not save them and in modern day it might not again, has got me obsessed the way I haven't been in years.

FAVORITE DRAMA

Moon in the Day - if there is such a thing as a drama made perfectly for me, this gorgeous, emotionally haunting, utterly romantic, twisty tale is it.

WORST DRAMA

The Escape of the Seven. This drama is proof that demons exist and not sexy ones like Song Kang but horrible nasty ones who delight in the torment this hot mess inflicted on its viewers.

FAVORITE MALE CHARACTER

Do Ha, Moon in the Day - a Silla general and a consummate killer who committed atrocities on the orders of his monster father and yearned to die for them, who found the meaning in life in loving his enemy but it did not make him better, a man so obsessed he literally was around for 1500 years of horrifying ghostly existence and still went "worth it" for a woman who killed him as long as he knew she loved him while she did it. He's intense and competent and beyond fucked up and has never had a normal day and I love him so so so very much from a safe distance.

FAVORITE FEMALE CHARACTER

Gil Chae, My Dearest - she starts out as vain and spoiled but the horrors that break so many others bring out all her fierce survivor potential and she becomes such a force of nature - capable of incredible love but also sacrifice and strength and compassion.

Runner Up: Shin Hye Sun's reincarnator in See You In My 19th Life - quirky, damaged, strong, so odd and so vulnerable at once.

NEEDS TO BE MURDERED

There are a lot of characters who fit that category (King Injo in My Dearest? My God) but the crown belongs to So Ri Bu from Moon in the Day. You think you've seen abusive parents but until you've seen a man abuse his son his whole life and then continue for 1500 years after his death, you ain't seen nothing!

FAVORITE SHIP

The doomed by the narrative OTP of Moon in The Day. Only thing that's better than enemies to lovers is enemies while lovers and their impossible relationship where her killing him is a supreme act of love and his refusing to let go is so strong that he stays around for 1500 years watching her, helpless as she dies over and over again, is everything you ever want.

Runner up: Jang Hyun/Gil Chae, My Dearest. They are so strong and so damaged and it takes them so long to figure out what they feel and what the other person feels but their love and sacrifice and complexities are perfect.

FAVORITE SECONDARY OTP

Kim Shi Yeol/Hong Joo, The Secret Romantic Guesthouse - an assassin bodyguard pretending to be a carefree scholar and a widow of the man he killed to protect his king (and whose life was destroyed as a result.) I enjoyed the main OTP of this drama but I was utterly and completely unhinged for the secondary couple.

I'd have probably picked Rang and his mermaid from TotNT 1938 even over them, but they really were the main OTP of that drama.

NOTP

King the Land couple seems like an easy target but honestly, they are both so terribly bland and antiseptic and marketing by committee, they kinda deserve each other. So I am gonna go with Destined with You, one half of which thinks supernaturally roofying someone into loving them is cute and the other half thinks dating one woman while wooing another is totally a-ok. Ugh.

FAVORITE SCENE

There is no competition for the scene in the slave market in My Dearest, where Jang Hyun finds Gil Chae - the way he screams and tries to clutch the hem of her skirt will live in my head forever.

And the scene where he 'wins' that horrifying bet, or the scene where she finds him in a pile of bodies - they are as good also. Or when he fights off a squad to protect her even though he's sick. That whole drama is perfect.

Runner up: the scene of Do Ha executing Ri Ta's family, covered in blood, as she looks at him from the crowd in Moon in the Day.

Or the scene where he talks about how he cannot live as a person but at least maybe she will kill him and he will die as one. Or when her confession in the past intercuts with his walking in the present, or when he comes home in his bloodied armor and she finds he has a fever and it's the first tender touch he's probably ever known. Her murdering So Ri Bu saying she knows she's going against filial piety in loving her parents' murderer, the way they hug, both bloody, as he says "let's live." The way she says she can't go on as she's hit rock bottom and he replies she cannot quit because she must accompany him to his rock bottom now. Honestly, the drama is a font of amazingness.

Also, the opening scene of Goryeo Khitan War or the scene of Yang Gyu ordering to shoot the captives and having to do so himself.

The OTP meeting again at the intersection at the end of ep 1 of Tell Me That You Love Me. SHS comforting ABH as he's having a traumatic breakdown in 19th Life. The love-making scene in Call It Love. There were a lot of great scenes this year.

BIGGEST CRUSH

Lee Jang Hyun, My Dearest - is that even a competition? He's flawed - vain, often emotionally closed off, not great at processing emotions, lashing out when hurt. He is also incredibly heroic in a real, knows the cost but bears it, kind of way. Whatever he does, he commits utterly but it's never without understanding the cost. He felt both larger than life and utterly real. He went through hell and maintained his soul and the way he loved Gil Chae was breath-taking to behold.

Runner Up: Yang Gyu, Goryeo Khitan War - an experienced military commander who wins an impossible victory even as it ravages his soul. Competence is sexy as fuck.

BEST SCENE STEALER CHARACTER

Rang, Tale of the Nine Tailed 1938 - 1938 really was Rang's chance to shine and he took it. For a character I started out disliking in the original, he really stole my entire heart in this drama. I am so glad he got his happy ending with his brother and his girl.

Runner Up: Crown Prince, My Dearest. He started out as a sheltered, spoiled aristocrat, convinced the world owed him for existing. He grew up slowly and painfully into an amazing man. And then was murdered for it and I cried.

NEEDS A SEQUEL

Arthdal - it leaves the story at a good stopping point but it's very much a "world in flux, adventures and conflicts continue" ending and I would love to see more of these characters. I know we won't but it would have been nice.

NEEDS SCISSORS TAKEN TO IT

Behind Your Touch - should have been snipped at birth.

TOO MANY SCISSORS TAKEN TO IT

Vigilante - I don't mean it had scissors taken to it because it's not cdrama and there is no NRTA, but this drama would have benefitted from being longer. I mean, I love fights and gay polycules as much as the next tumblr person but a bit more character development would not have come amiss. (ahaha - I said come. Leave me alone.)

TROPE THAT NEEDS TO DIE

I don't care about cops/doctors/trash collectors/whoever - workplace drama centering on their "cases" needs to die. I hate procedurals from any country and Korea is no exception.

FAVORITE TROPE WE’VE SEEN A LOT OF

Supernatural critter devoted to their OTP with all the power of their long life.

BIGGEST DISAPPOINTMENT

Our Blooming Youth - it was far from terrible but it was a giant meh. I was so excited to see Park Hyung Sik in a sageuk (that wasn't the hot mess that was Hwarang) and I adored the source novel. It actually started well and then...it's like Revenge of the Beige!

BIGGEST GOOD SURPRISE

I want to say Moon in the Day but to be honest, I was excited by posters and trailers so it wasn't wholly a surprise despite not having much of an opinion on the actors before I saw them. So I am going to say My Demon. I was bored by the trailers, I can't remember the last time I enjoyed a Kim Yoo Jung drama and before this year I would have said Song Kang was an incredibly limited actor in everything I've seen him in and not appealing to me at all. And here I am rabidly rabiding for this drama!

If I am not limiting myself to dramas but can use this for actors - Hwang Minhyun in My Lovely Liar. I genuinely did not think the man could act and then he gave such a pitch-perfect, nuanced performance out of nowhere!

2023 DRAMAS I HAVEN’T SEEN THAT I MOST WANT TO WATCH

I have actually watched all the kdramas that aired this year that I wanted to check out except for Evilive. I am saving this for when I have time.

BEST NON-2023 DRAMA I’VE WATCHED IN 2023

I don't know if I'd say it's the best but Say You Love Me (2004) with Kim Rae Won as a quasi monk seduced away from his true love by an evil older woman was a hell of a ride.

MOST ANTICIPATED

Love Song for Illusion (Lady assassin falls for her royal target who has two personalities), Captivating the King (lady spy falls for her royal target who is tormented) - notice a theme? Also Flower that Blooms at Night because Honey Lee in a sageuk, The Life of Mrs Ock (Lim Ji Yeon in a sageuk), The Love Story of Chun Hwa (an "erotic" sageuk, hmmmm, what?!), Hong Rang (Lee Jae Wook in a super angst sageuk), Queen Woo (that cast and set in Goguryeo!), Wong Kyung (about Lee Bang Won's wife and I love the cast.) Basically, if it's period, I am there with bells on.

[superkooku]

Have you listened/watched epic? And if you have what’s your thoughts?

Personally I think it’s a good thing to show to a friend new to Greek mythology. I just finished watching the last saga and I have to say I loved it, beautiful. Sad it ended tho :(

It might not be very accurate but I love the hardwork the cast put into it and so I love it very much

My thoughts on Epic the musical

So yes, I know about Epic. I even participated in the secret santa thing and am what we may call 'a winion'.

I just finished watching the livestream too ! I especially loved seeing the cast members were reacting to the sagas (Luke Holt was so funny in this 🤣. Also, Jorge carrying Mico like a baby in 'Just a man' and Mason being extra the whole time... so many gems in that livestream)

Since Epic is finished AND I have animatics of the Ithaca saga, I'll use this opportunity to make a more in-depth review of the musical. Instead of separating it in "good" or "bad", I'm reviewing it criteria per criteria.

The cast

Like I previously said, I LOVE the cast chemistry. They're all so fun and lively. I follow some of them separately, like Janani or Troy Doherty, and they're just delightful. Especially Troy as Hermes, he always manages to make me laugh. Every single time 😂.

Also, he gives me a bit of Mettaton vibes since he's extravagant, always over the top and a bit self-absorbed (the Hermes persona, I mean, not Troy Doherty himself). Maybe that's why I like him so much :3

And of course, there's Jorge, mr. Jalapeño, the man with the plan. I love how both passionate and humble he is, how he takes the time to thank everyone and just how much of a bundle of positive energy he is. I know it's an internet persona, but what I can see from him is some hopefully really nice guy in real life too.

Anyways, awesome cast chemistry, everyone made me laugh and they're all having a good time.

The music

This music is so beautiful 🥰. All the motifs, the emotions, the instruments, the voices ! If I had to rate Epic from the music alone, it would be 5 stars. I'm not saying this in a professional angle or anything, it's my personal feeling.

Seriously, I don't really have that much to say about the music because, to me, it's just that good. I love the variety, how different instruments synch themselves and, yeah.

The characters

Annnnd that's where the blind positive praise stops, unfortunately 😂.

Don't get me wrong, it's not awful either and there are good points. My favorite Epic characters are Hermes and Athena.

The rest ? It's mixed. In order not to make this too long, I'll focus on only some of them.

The story is very character-driven so I won't really delve into it in detail.

Odysseus : he's a good protagonist, especially in the first act. His dilemma is interesting, he has a strong personality and I like that he is just a broken man and not some mighty overlord... except in the Thunder and Vengeance sagas. I feel Jorge exaggerated the monster message a bit too much, imo. Odysseus is supposed to be a witty liar, a warrior of the mind. Not someone like Achilles who solves problems by fighting or fights gods like Heracles, much less freaking Poseidon.

Poseidon : okay ! I liked him in the first act, because FINALLY Poseidon isn't a surfer dude. He's a terrifying force of nature that was angered by mortal hubris (though the hubris thing isn't explained by Epic). In Get in the water, he kept his intimidating side. Because he's, yk, the king of the oceans, one of the most powerful Olympian gods. But his defeat partially ruined him for me 😂. It just doesn't make sense. Why is Odysseus afraid of Scylla and even tip-toes around Hermes, who is friendly, when he can stabby-stab Poseidon ? Why didn't Poseidon counterattack? So many questions.

Zeus : my problem with Zeus is easier to explain. Again, he was awesome in the first act, less so in the second. What I loved initially is how regal he was. Powerful, intimidating, kingly, but not evil either. He warns Odysseus of the gods' will and of fate, which always realizes itself in mythology. In Thunder Bringer, he's fine. His lustful and flighty side is shown, but we could interpret his intervention as avenging Helios and punishing the ones who ate the cows, instead of "Zeus is evil". But in God Games ? He's so pettyyyyy and childish. Where is the kingly attitude ? This "Beast Zeus" should come against Kronos or Typhon, or maybe when Athena and the others threatened his position. Not after a freaking game ! He just strikes Athena with thunder because she won fair and square. At LEAST Luke Holt absolutely killed it, so it's cool to listen to.

Penelope : she's underdeveloped :( . Okay, her bond with Odysseus was respected, they're adorable together. On her own ? Eh, she's fine. Which is a shame because she simply didn't have enough room to exist outside of Odysseus. Also, the fact that she doesn't interact once with her son is criminal imo.

I do have some other issues with characters like Circe and Calypso (basically they're declawed compared to the Odyssey), whereas I'm completely fine with others like Eurylochus, Telemachus or every god except Zeus and Poseidon. Though they're not perfectly accurate either but I don't have problems with them.

The crew in general is also underdeveloped, so I didn't feel much for them (until discovering the scrapped Elpenor and Perimedes songs/lh). They played their roles correctly.

I hated the suitors (that's a positive in Epic) and laughed when Antinous died. Though I wished they were more pathetic and less threatening. Musically it'd be worse but story-wise more fitting.

The story

Overall, it's fine. Most of the best points come from the Odyssey itself, the one change I liked the most was having Odysseus and Poseidon meet (not the way it ended though).

Also, story-wise, I prefer act 1 over act 2, because it's less over the place and more grounded.

But emotion-wise and music-wise, forgetting about the Odyssey, act 2 wins the cake.

Those were my thoughts on Epic :3

I tried not to judge it too much according to the Odyssey and some of my friends are more demanding on that plan (for perfectly legitimate reasons btw). But it's hard to separate Epic from the wonderful work of Homer and it's lacking in some areas.

Still, this journey was very fun, I love all the passion Jorge, the singers and the animatic artists put in, there are a lot of good things about it (I can't mention everything). I don't want to rate it because it's too rigid of a system. I listen to the songs on loop and, ultimately, I'm thankful Epic exists :)

I may come back to this post and reblog stuff if I have new relevant thoughts to add. I'll probably rank the sagas in another post.

[dulldoll-0]

Pandora’s Paradise AU

A massive remake to the old Euphoria Bugs AU.

About the AU:

-A few deities living in a floating island with a tall mountain similar to Olympus, in addition to very few others living there with them.

-All deities perform with their own element, servicing to the people who pray for their help, guidance, or just favours in order to feed off the people’s positive emotions.

-This AU wasn’t entirely inspired by Jorge Rivera’s Epic Musical, but more on my fondness of half-human half-creature/animal hybrids of their redesign.

Lore:

-All of the crew going about their normal and usual days, fulfilling duties and doing other things, Wally in swimming around the ocean in search of a shiny gift for his sister, Starlet.

And he stumbles upon a box, with the colors consisting of red, blue, and gold??? Hard to tell with the lighting underwater, with the scriptures underneath it, “HOME.”

-He flew back to the surface and gave Starlet her gifts, sensing a great power in the box, he decided to keep it for himself, even went out of his way to bury it somewhere in the beach.

-Everything was okay until one day, Wally went to check on the box again, only to find it missing, some humans were treasure hunting in the beach and found it. The box was still locked shut, but Wally arguing and fighting with the humans had caused it to open by his hands.

-The box opens and all kinds of spirits had escaped, good and evil, the spirits who were unfamiliar of the outside world caused chaos where they went, the first being Wally’s friends.

-The spirits went through the few of his friends, Barnaby, Pillar, Poppy, and Frankly, causing them to melt, — in a panic Wally orders the others to save each of them, Wally with Barnaby, Starlet with Pillar, Dear with Poppy, and Julie with Frank— and everything goes black.

.

.

.

-Wally wakes up first, feeling the unfamiliarity and differences on his body, he had paws, the gills around his waists disappeared, he’s covered in scales and fur, standing on legs felt like walking on knives, and the tail on his back felt like having another set of legs just dangling around.

-Same goes for the rest who survived.

-Since they are technically also spirits, they were able to save the others parts by fusing their body with theirs, a way of containing their souls.

-The spirits that got out of the box were all gone, created nothing but destruction onto their world to the point it didn’t look recognisable at all. They’ve also left their world and moved onto the next.

-The Spider Effect had begun.

[ghostlymarauder]

you know, there's many reason why I believe Jorge Rivera-Herrans is a fucking genius. But you want to know the biggest one?? In Legendary and Little Wolf, Antinous sounds evil and cruel, and he speaks like a commoner (using that word for lack of a better one, English it's not my first language, please don't come at me), BUT in Hold Them Down, he sounds like a King, royal and elegant, and you want to know why that is?

Both in Epic and in the Odyssey, Telemachus sees Antinous as a disgusting and repulsive man. And in the Odyssey, it's literally said that Antinous was considered not only the best of the suitors but also the 'king' or 'leader' of the suitors. So, in Legendary, Little Wolf and Hold Them Down were fucking hearing the sonorous transliteration of this—Telemachus hearing Antinous as this honorless, disrespectful man versus the suitors hearing Antinous as this king-like man.

And THESE are the kind of details that make me absolutely fucking love Epic.

[scriptorsapiens]

Classicstober Day 20: Odysseus (𐀃𐀉𐀮𐀄)

Odysseus is one of the most recognizable heroes of Greek mythology, maybe the most recognizable after Heracles/Hercules and various euphemisms (eg Achilles Heel and such). I borrowed Jorge Herran's hairdo for my interpretation of him because Epic has been on my mind and I deeply enjoy his interpretation of the character.

More than any other hero, Odysseus' relationship with his divine patron, Athena, is very close. Some interpretations might even argue too close, and maybe even dangerous…

What can a man say about Odysseus that hasn't already been said before? He is one of those mythological characters that is inescapable if you are dealing with ANY media that handles classical mythology. Polymetis seems to describe both him and his modern interpretations. I can't deny that I have a significant amount of Double Think about this man. To the ancient Greeks he would have been a perfect hero, but today… not so much. He murders without consequence, even if pragmatically, is filled with pride, and while his wife remains the model of chaste patience Odysseus is banging his way around the Mediterranean.

That said, it is very easy to make more palatable modern interpretations of him. He's almost as easy to sanitize as Perseus.

My depiction of him here is probably toward the end of his wanderings, maybe even right before unleashing his bow on the suitors. Since he is supposed to be dressed in beggar's rags his costume took very little research; it's just layers of cloth used as a cloak worn over a tunic. The only little addition I made is an ivory pin in the shape of an owl's face to show Athena's favor.

Athena, on the other hand, was a bit more challenging in pose and costume. I have mentioned before I try to abstain from direct depictions of the gods, but in this piece I wanted her influence on Odysseus to be palpable. The hardest part was making her armor as a war-god. Bronze age panoplies have been discovered and they seem to have been the pinnacle of protection, but I personally loathe the look of them so I decided to go with some Mycenaean vase-painting inspired armor. Although I usually think Athena's theme color would be green to reference her connection to olives, with this one I wanted her to be blindingly gray and white and terrifying.

It is a relatively modern concept to really depict the gods as evil, especially between Athena and Odysseus, but I kind of wanted to suggest that with her pose but still leave it ambiguous. Is the hand on his neck a tender caress, or a promise of a choke? Is she guiding his aim with a gentle touch, or is she forcing him to knock the bow and unleash the bloodshed?

[adventure-time-news]

Listings have appeared on several retailer websites for the first volume of Adventure Time (2025), which will collect the first four issues of the new comic series in one book. From the blurb, it sounds like it will collect both the main Best of Buds story written by Nick Winn, and also the backup story written and illustrated by Derek Ballard.

Amazon, Target, and various other retailers have listed a release date of 25 November 2025, and a retail price of $20 (the same price as buying the four issues individually at $5 each).

As well as Nick Winn and Derek Ballard, Amazon states that Asia Simone, Jorge Monlongo, and Brenda Hickey will all contribute as artists to this first volume.

There are also some new story details in the blurb:

C'mon, grab your friends and head to distant lands for a brand-new ADVENTURE (er, TIME!)! When Finn and Jake save the newly installed Computer Princess from the clutches of the evil Ice King--he just wants a bridge, OK, is that too much to ask?!--the two escort her back to the Computer Kingdom, where she gives the Best of Buds a new quest: find the powerful guide for heroes, the Enchiridion, and bring it back to her so she can scan it for her digital archive! But where are they going to find it? And how?! From songwriting with lovesick poets to attending art shows with megalomaniacs to dance battles with the Cat Queen in the funk reaches of outer space, Finn and Jake find themselves on a truly mathematical (and dare we say . . . radical?!) journey on their quest to complete CP's request--but surely nothing can stop the Best of Buds! That is to say, surely their friendship is totally, completely, definitely not about to be put to the test! Right? Written and drawn by Annie-nominated designer for TV and feature animation Nick Winn, highlighting a host of talented artists and featuring backup stories by Adventure Time alum Derek Ballard (Cartoonshow), this new Adventure Time series is one you won't want to miss! Collects issues #1-4 of the new Oni Press Adventure Time series.

The first issue of Adventure Time (2025) releases on 9 April 2025.

[moonshynecybin]

Relatively sober/not very drunk Valentino having to take care of smashed Marc — is he annoyed, is he amused, is he suffering trying to refute the advances Marc is making on him, is he taking care of him or is he dumping him at his hotel/motorhome home and finito (options endless)

IT DEPENDS WHAT YEARRRRRR.... i think. 2013 post laguna seca (when they were partying TOGETHER. marc pulled one over on vale and vale brought him to a PARTY. INSANITY.) marc is 20 years old and not even allowed to drink legally in the united states so vale along with my friend cal crutchlow keep sneaking him drinks "secretly" as a flirtgame (no one would care lol) that vale doesnt even realize hes PLAYING until marc is smashed and HE is smashed (more than hes been in a LONG time at a postrace shindig), and his weird horny responsibility complex comes into play... he ducks out of the party to maneuver marc to his hotel room... marc drunkflushed all red in the FACE, just shook ass earnestly for like four hours, caught between cal and vale and like. hitting them both in the arm when he laughs like the LAMEST flirting of all time.... also he won. while doing a vale move. that vale then defended to the press. girl he is trying to get into vale's pants like it is the end of the WORLD and yknow what. i think it works ! i think vale is INTO it

and then. mid 2019. a little bit of a détente. still #tense and #nasty and #evil but edging just a bit more on friendly. they can laugh without it feeling like a knife between their ribs. and theyre at some stupid sponsor thing dont ask me whattttttt okay maybe the silverstone 70th suit celebration extravaganza. and vale is NOT hanging out with MAVERICK. and theyre both BORED. and vale thinks up some dumb quip that he knowssss marc would laugh at because marc laughs at everythingggggg, and hes just tipsy enough to nudge an elbow into the side of marc's tux and let it fly... let the warmth of marc's generous little look fill him up. and suddenly the champagne is flowing and theyre in a nefarious little drinking game about the habits of the other riders (i keep saying this but BOTH of their humor is like. mean sometimes. i mean they love to make FUN of people) and they catch jorge being awkward at dorna execs a BUNCH so suddenly theyre flat ass drunk. and having a good time. and feeling like its 2013.... and when they get released its like. well. marc inviting vale to hang out at his room. vale saying okay against his better judgement (hedonist for the win). one thing leading to the next. they fuck narstay. vale is GONEEEE in the morning. misano 2019. profit.

[bookishswordfish]

My Unasked-For Thoughts About Epic: The Ithaca Saga

The final saga has been released, and it is such a bittersweet moment. Here are my takeaways:

Anna Lea IS Penelope. Her voice is truly wonderful and the emotion she conveys is palpable

The suitors’ background vocals are *chef’s kiss*

Waiting, waiting…something something two of the most important women in Odysseus’s life found connection in their love and grief over Odysseus’ absence

I don’t think you understand the grip “Hold Them Down” has on my soul

I will undoubtedly love anything with the suitors because I am a sucker for harmonies, and they have such good ones for no reason

“Where is he, where is the man who can string this bow-ow-oww-ow” and the way it drops it only vocals on -ow-oww-ow

The grit in Ayron Alexander’s voice is delicious and the performance he gives is astounding

The disgust and horror that is evoked in me as Antinous details his plans for Penelope…..that’s the sign of a good storyteller right there

I love how there are different voices for all of the suitors

Odysseus aiming for the torches…….“We are the same, you and I”

‘Scuse me, Eurymachus, you are not allowed to say “open arms”

Speaking of open arms, what the actual fuck, Jorge??? You just HAD to go and throw that in there, didn’t you?

THAT GLISS

Jorge’s “evil voice” is insane, man

“Odysseus” ending with the chorus singing “O-dy-sse-us” like in “No Longer You” and a single low note like in “Monster”

“I Can’t Help but Wonder” beginning with the same intro as “Just a Man” but lower and in strings, then morphing into “Legendary” as another connection between Astyanax and Telemachus

“Father” “Son”

Mico’s falsetto is so, so lovely

“Warrior of the Mind” callback, hell yeah

Odysseus and Athena now living the other’s initial philosophy on how to greet challenges because they had opposite character arcs

PENELOPE IS HIS GIRL

I am such a strings person

Of course I’m crying, how could I not????

The different melodies as Odysseus is explaining what happened is incredibly clever (Ruthlessness, Puppeteer)

THE WEDDING BED MENTIONED

How is this “waiting, waiting” so much more devastating??

“for” being in the same tune as “Odysseus” at the end of “Different Beast” because it leads into her saying “you” to Odysseus

How Many Times Can Jorge Sprinkle In “Just a Man” In One Saga Challenge

I LOVE YOU

To conclude, my song rankings:

Hold Them Down

Would You Fall in Love With Me Again

The Challenge

Odysseus

I Can’t Help but Wonder

There is not a single miss in this saga, but, alas, into a list they must go. I have loved this musical with everything. It’s been a wonderfully wild ride.