#Comparative Media Studies/Writing

[jcmarchi]

MIT students build connections with Black and Indigenous Brazilians to investigate culture and the environment

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/mit-students-build-connections-with-black-and-indigenous-brazilians-to-investigate-culture-and-the-environment/

MIT students build connections with Black and Indigenous Brazilians to investigate culture and the environment

In January 2024, at the height of Brazil’s summer, a group of 20 MIT undergraduates will arrive in São Paulo, Brazil, for the Independent Activities Period (IAP) course WGS.247/21L.592 (Race, Place, and Modernity in the Americas) jointly offered by the School of Humanities, Arts, and Social Sciences’ programs in Women’s and Gender Studies, Literature, and Writing. 

Continuing a program developed in 2019 and launched as a special course in 2020, the three-week course offers students opportunities to study how American and Brazilian Black and Indigenous writers, artists, and filmmakers’ art and cultural activism — particularly women’s — can impact racial justice and environmental issues. 

The class will visit historical sites, cultural centers, nature reserves, and museums while also engaging in conversations with local scholars, activists, religious leaders, community organizers, and artists. 

By mixing classroom discussions with on-site exploration and cross-cultural exchanges, the course offers innovative pedagogy that is experiential (learning by doing), immersive (learning within an environment), and interdisciplinary (learning across different fields).

An immersive course, years in the making

Joaquin Terrones ’99, a lecturer in literature and women’s and gender studies, was already teaching this material when he considered expanding its scope. “It seemed like the natural next step was to take students to Brazil so they could experience its incredible culture, art, and activism for themselves,” he remembers.

In 2019, he and Wyn Kelley, a senior lecturer in literature, received a Higher Education Innovation grant from the MIT Jameel World Education Lab (J-WEL) to develop the course and teach it as a special subject the following year.

Generous support from MIT-Brazil, the Office of Minority Education, and MindHandHeart completed its transformation into a full-fledged course in women’s and gender studies, literature, and writing as part of MIT’s Independent Activities Period (IAP) last January.

Helen Elaine Lee, a professor in MIT’s Comparative Media Studies/Writing program, co-taught the subject in its first full year, sharing her experiences using creative practices to further social justice.  

Undergraduates from across MIT’s five schools, particularly Black, Latino, LGBTQ+, and first-generation college students, have enrolled. This outreach is important because some studies have shown students from these groups are underserved by study abroad programs, participating at significantly lower rates.

“Our students want spaces like the one created by this course to think deeply and collectively about the daunting array of crises we face, from catastrophic climate change to entrenched violence against communities of color,” says Terrones.

No day at the beach … well, maybe one or two

Although a few weeks in South America during January might sound like a vacation, the course is rigorous and intense, packing a semester’s worth of material into three weeks. Students spend mornings in seminar-style discussions, head out across the city for field trips in the afternoon, and return to their residences in the early evening for a few hours of readings or screenings. 

For Tamea Cobb, a senior double majoring in chemical engineering and literature, the class trip to Rio led to an epiphany. “I remember waking up super early to watch the sunrise on the beach, where we saw a man practicing capoeira, an Afro-Brazilian martial art form disguised to look like dancing by enslaved Africans forbidden from practicing martial arts. We had just learned about capoeira the week prior, so it was a beautiful full-circle moment.”

In addition to class outings in São Paulo and Rio, students also organize their own weekend trips within Brazil to places such as Salvador, the unofficial capital of Afro-Brazilian culture, and Inhotim, a vast open-air art museum and botanical garden in the middle of the Atlantic Forest.

Beyond Brazil

The course’s impact continues well after its completion as participants incorporate what they learned into their work and lives. 

“The course was a priceless experience that further revealed the interconnectedness of African experiences in the Americas,” says Afura N. Taylor ’21, who double majored in physics and writing. “It has influenced my writing by providing examples of literature and cultural practices that center ancestral memory.”

Educators also see benefits. “I had no idea it would give me a new research project on the presence of Brazil in Black U.S. print culture from the early national period to the present,” says Kelley. 

In fact, the course’s success has inspired two new IAP subjects in Brazil this year: 21G.S07 (Language Conversation and Brazilian Culture) by Nilma Dominique from the Global Studies and Languages Section, and 10.496/1.096 (Design of Sustainable Polymer Systems in the Amazon) by Professor Bradley Olsen in the Department of Chemical Engineering.

When asked what makes the course special, Professor Lee describes “[a] unique power [that] derives from rigorous discussions of challenging texts and films that question prevalent assumptions about history and politics, and immersive cultural experiences that open mind and heart, expanding and empowering students who often feel isolated and excluded on MIT’s campus.”  

She adds, “In addition to deepening my intellectual and political understanding, this class gave me a profound experience of ancestral recovery that has fed my artistic work. For our Black, Latinx, and LGBTQ+ students, it was a liberatory experience of community. A re-education. A cultural and personal homecoming.”

[wuxian-vs-wangji]

See, I don't really think Architecture is as hard of a major as Payu and Rain claim it is.

Payu looks freshly bathed and put together, not like he's on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

[pallas-cat]

next therapist appointment im dedicating time to my horribly, horribly frayed relationship w writing and reading before school starts again lmao

[a-ginger-from]

Honestly idk, like I really like learning in general but I feel like the pressures of college ruined it a bit. Also I feel like I enjoyed aspects of classes more than the entire thing?? Like I had a lot of specific projects that I really enjoyed doing but didn't overall live and breathe for the class itself

can't do this one as a poll bc there's endless choices but if you're in college/university or went to college/university what's been the most fun/enriching class you've had?

[my-chemical-rot]

Looooove it (/s) when people who haven’t taken an art class since 5th grade make all kinds of judgements about college-level art classes and say shit like “isn’t it an easy class though? Don’t you get an A just for showing up? Or just for participating? You don’t actually have to be good at art to pass that class right?” Like okay maybe when you’re ten years old your art teacher isn’t gonna grade you by technique and skill but contrary to popular belief you actually have to be *good* at art and work your fucking ass off every single day to get a good grade in an art class

[prettieinpink]

MAKING YOUR PHONE TO BE INTENTIONAL

MAKE A VISION BOARD WALLPAPER. Create one that aligns with your goals and dream self, so that every time you pick your phone up, you’re reminded of your goals and future vision. Also, great for manifesting! 

KNOW YOUR APP’S PURPOSE. For me, tumblr is a way I share advice and learn, YouTube I also learn from others, pinterest I get inspired, netflix is a way for me to unwind etc. If for any app, you cannot name a proper purpose/intent to use it daily or to help with your goals, delete it. 

DECIDE WHICH TYPES OF APPS YOU WANT. If you have a new phone, or you want to completely reset your phone, write or type, the apps, that you want and those you don’t. 

E.g I want to learn a language, practice mindfulness on the go, get some mental gratification that isn’t addicting, organise my life better and have a way to track my progress. I don’t want apps that support doom-scrolling, make me compare myself and are addictive. 

BE MINDFUL OF WHAT YOU SIGN UP TO. Newsletters, social media, subscribing to YouTubers and so on, just think about your goals and vision and if they align with them, every time you think about signing up/subscribing. 

HAVE NO PHONE TIME/ZONES. For me, my phone is not allowed to be used in bed. If I must use my phone, I have to get out of bed first. My phone is also not allowed during study time, so I put it in a separate room which makes it inconvenient. 

REGULARLY DO A DIGITAL DECLUTTER. Delete any old contacts that you don’t talk to, unsubscribe from newsletters and YouTube channels, organise your socials etc. Removes space and helps us to see our phones with more clarity. 

SET PURPOSEFUL WIDGETS. These can be anything, motivational quotes, your daily to-do list, reminders of your habits and so on. However, make sure you’re looking at them and they're not just taking up space. 

[vixen-academia]

Free MIT online courses that sound interesting

Arts & Literature

Introduction to World Music

Reading Fiction

Literary Interpretation: Virginia Woolf's Shakespeare

Introduction to Photography

Foundations of Western Culture II: Renaissance to Modernity

Studies in Poetry - Briths Poetry and the Sciences of the Mind

Studies in Literary History: Modernism: From Nietzsche to Fellini

Screen Women: Body Narratives in Popular American Film

Studies in Poetry: "What's the Use of Beauty"

Queer Cinema and Visual Culture

Monteverdi to Mozart: 1600 - 1800

Writing and Experience: Reading and Writing Autobiography

Advanced Topics in Hispanic Literature and Film: The Films of Luis Buñel

Major Authors: Rewriting Genesis: "Paradise Lost" and Twentieth-Century Fantasy

Arthurian Literature and Celtic Colonization

Contemporary Literature: Britsh Novel Now

Studies in Poetry: 20th Century Irish Poetry: The Shadow of W. B. Yeats

Writing About Literature: Writing About Love

Introduction to European and Latin American Fiction: Great Books On The Page and On The Screen

Popular Culture and Narrative: Use and Abuse of the Fairy Tale

Victorian Literature and Culture

Reading Poetry

English Renaissance Drama: Theatre and Society in the Age of Shakespeare

Introduction to Fiction

International Woman's Voice

Major Authors: Oscar Wilde and the "90's"

Prizewinners: Nobelistas

American Authors: American Women Authors

Shakespeare, Film and Media

Japanese Literature and Cinema

Woman's Novels: A Weekly Book Club

Classics of Chinese Literature

Major English Novels

Topics in South Asia Literature and Culture

Introduction to Literary Theory

History & Social Studies

American Classics

The Middle East in the 20th Century

Africa and the Politics of Knowledge

The Rise of Modern Science

European Imperialism in the 19th and 20th Century

Philosophy of Love

Human Rights: At Home and Abroad

The Nature of Creativity

Introduction to Comparative Politics

Riots, Rebellions, Revolutions

Introduction to the History of Technology

Ancient Philosophy

Youth Political Participation

[gamora-borealis]

I think dan and phil are special but not because they are special people. like don't get me wrong, they are extremely talented and creative and funny and phil does seem to have inherited some kind of special intuition from his northern grandma but! there's a million other queer / neurodivergent people out there just like them... just as talented and intuitive or whatnot. what's special is that they were in the right place / right time to broadcast this unique kind of existence on a mass scale to a broad audience but more importantly a kindred audience. and they've kept it authentic by balancing their entertainment personas and working relationship with their real selves. It's like we've been watching a reality tv series about them for 15 years except they are the producers (who maybe exaggerate some things like producers do but, it's their own choices)... and they never meant for the show to make money but it did so yeah they need it to maintain their lifestyle now but in general their intentions are less clouded by clout or success compared to some influencers/creators out there. What's special is the insane parasocial relationship we have with them and they have with us that truly is a product of a specific context that I don't think will ever quite exist again. They learned from the first YouTubers and mastered the art form to the point where they are able to go on these huge tours that to this day no one can top because YouTube and the Internet have changed far too much with algorithms and advertising and etc. They are a testament to the lost dream of what the internet could be and a showcase of what can happen if you give gay dorks the perfect ingredients to build a media empire. and as a result we know them so intimately as they truly have been open about so much over 15 years and yet they've still kept so much private, to the point where there's still so much that people speculate on. It's like the perfect case study for Web 2.0 media produsage and digital community building amidst the decline of in-person connections because of the progression of capitalism... anyways if by chance there are any phannies getting degrees in media and communications and need help with paper topics and writing please hit me up I'm yearning for grad school again 😭

[jcmarchi]

Curiosity, images, and scientific exploration

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/curiosity-images-and-scientific-exploration/

Curiosity, images, and scientific exploration

When we gaze at nature’s remarkable phenomena, we might feel a mix of awe, curiosity, and determination to understand what we are looking at. That is certainly a common response for MIT’s Alan Lightman, a trained physicist and prolific author of books about physics, science, and our understanding of the world around us.

“One of my favorite quotes from Einstein is to the effect that the most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious,” Lightman says. “It’s the fundamental emotion that is the cradle of true art and true science.”

Lightman explores those concepts in his latest book, “The Miraculous from the Material,” published today by Penguin Random House. In it, Lightman has penned 35 essays about scientific understanding, each following photos of spectacular natural phenomena, from spider webs to sunsets, and from galaxies to hummingbirds.

Lightman, who is a professor of the practice of the humanities at MIT, calls himself a “spiritual materialist,” who finds wonder in the world while grounding his grasp of nature in scientific explanation.

Alan Lightman offers essays about scientific understanding, each corresponding to photos of spectacular natural phenomena, including the aurora borealis, fall foliage, and the rings of Saturn.

Credit: Courtesy of Alan Lightman

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“Understanding the material and scientific underpinnings of these spectacular phenomena hasn’t diminished my awe and amazement one iota,” Lightman writes in the book. MIT News talked to Lightman about a handful of the book’s chapters, and the relationship between seeing and scientific curiosity.

Aurora borealis

In 2024, many people ventured outside for a glimpse of the aurora borealis, or northern lights, the brilliant phenomenon caused by solar storms. Auroras occur when unusually large amounts of electrons from the sun energize oxygen and nitrogen molecules in the upper atmosphere. The Earth’s magnetic field creates the folding shapes.

Among much else, the aurora borealis — and aurora australis, in southern latitudes — are a testament to the way unusual things fire our curiosity.

“I think we respond emotionally as well as intellectually, with appreciation and plain old awe at nature,” Lightman says. “If we go back to the earliest times when people were thinking scientifically, the emotional connection to the natural world was probably as important as the intellectual connection. The wonder and curiosity stimulated by the night sky makes us want to understand it.”

He adds: “The aurora borealis is certainly very striking and makes us aware that we’re part of the cosmos; we’re not just living in the world of tables, and chairs, and houses. It does give us a cosmic sense of being on a planet out in the universe.”

Galileo coined the term “aurora borealis,” referring to the Roman goddess of the dawn and the Greek god of the north wind. People have created many suggestive accounts of the northern lights. As Lightman notes in the book, the Native American Cree regarded the lights as dead spirits in the sky; the Algonquin people saw them as a fire made by their creator; the Inuit tribes regarded the lights as spirits playing; and to the Vikings, the lights were a reflection off the armor of the Valkyries. It wasn’t until the 1900s that geomagnetic sunstorms were proposed as an explanation.

“It’s all a search for meaning and understanding,” Lightman says. “Before we had modern science, we still wanted meaning, so we constructed these mythologies. And then as we developed science we had other tools. But the nonscientific accounts were also trying to explain this strange cosmos we find ourselves in.”

Fall foliage

The aurora borealis is unearthly; fall leaves and their colors are literally a down-to-earth matter. Still, Lightman says, while the aurora borealis “is more exotic,” fall foliage can also leave us gazing in wonder. In his book, he constructs a multilayered explanation of the subject, ranging from the chemical compounds in leaves to the properties of color to the mechanics of planetary motion.

First, the leaves. The fall hues come from chemical compounds in leaves called carotenoids (which produce yellow and orange colors) and anthocyanins (which create red hues). Those effects are usually hidden because of the presence of chlorophyll, which helps plants absorb sunlight and store energy, and gives off a green hue. But less sunlight in the fall means less chlorophyll at work in plants, so green leaves turn yellow, orange, or red.

To jump ahead, there are seasons because the Earth does not rotate on a vertical axis relative to the plane of its path around the sun. It tilts at about 23.5 degrees, so different parts of the planet receive differing amounts of sunlight during a yearlong revolution around the sun.

That tilt stems from cosmic collisions billions of years ago. Solar systems are formed from rotating clouds of gas and dust, with planets and moons condensing due to gravity. The Earth likely got knocked off its vertical axis when loose matter slammed into it, which has happened to most planets: In our solar system, only Mercury has almost no tilt.

Lightman muses, “I think there’s a kind of poetry in understanding that beautiful fall foliage was caused in part by a cosmic accident 4 billion years ago. That’s poetic and mind-blowing at the same time.”

Mandarinfish

It can seem astonishing to behold the mandarinfish, a native of the Pacific Ocean that sports bright color patterns only a bit less intricate than an ikat rug.

But what appears nearly miraculous can also be highly explainable in material terms. There are evolutionary advantages from brilliant coloration, something many scientists have recognized, from Charles Darwin to the present.

“There are a number of living organisms in the book that have striking features,” Lightman says. “I think scientists agree that most features of living organisms have  some survival benefits, or are byproducts of features that once had survival benefits.”

Unusual coloration may serve as camouflage, help attract mates, or warn off predators. In this case, the mandarinfish is toxic and its spectacular coat helps remind its main predator, the scorpionfish, that the wrong snack comes with unfortunate consequences.

“For mandarinfish it’s related to the fact that it’s poisonous,” Lightman says. Here, the sense of wonder we may feel comes attached to a scientific mechanism: In a food chain, what is spectacular can be highly functional as well.

Paramecia

Paramecia are single-celled microorganisms that propel themselves thanks to thousands of tiny cilia, or hairs, which move back and forth like oars. People first observed paramecia after the development of the microscope in the 1600s; they may have been first seen by the Dutch scientist Antonie van Leeuwenhoek.

“I judged that some of these little creatures were about a thousand times smaller than the smallest ones I have ever yet seen upon the rind of cheese,” van Leeuwenhoek wrote.

“The first microscopes in the 17th century uncovered an entire universe at a tiny scale,” Lightman observes.

When we look at a picture of a paramecium, then, we are partly observing our own ingenuity. However, Lightman is most focused on paramecia as an evolutionary advance. In the book, he underscores the emerging sophistication represented by their arrival 600 million years ago, processing significant amounts of energy and applying it to motion.

“What interested me about the paramecium is not only that it was one of the first microorganisms discovered,” Lightman says, “but the mechanisms of its locomotion, the little cilia that wave back and forth and can propel it at relatively great speed. That was a big landmark in evolution. It requires energy, and a mechanical system, all developed by natural selection.”

He adds: “One beautiful thought that comes out of that is the commonality of all living things on the planet. We’re all related, in a very profound way.”

The rings of Saturn

The first time Lightman looked at the rings of Saturn, which are about 1,000 in number, he was at the Harvard-Smithsonian Center for Astrophysics, using a telescope in the late 1970s.

“I saw the rings of Saturn and I was totally blown away because they’re so perfect,” Lightman says. “I just couldn’t believe there was that kind of construction of such a huge scale. That sense of amazement has stayed with me. They are a visually stunning natural phenomenon.”

The rings are statistically stunning, too. The width of the rings is about 240,000 miles, roughly the same as the distance from the Earth to the moon. But the thickness of the rings is only about that of a football field. “That’s a pretty big ratio between diameter and thickness,” Lightman says. The mass of the rings is just 1/50 of 1 percent of our moon.

Most likely, the rings were formed from matter by a moon that approached Saturn — which has 146 known moons — but got ripped apart, its material scattering into the rings. Over time, gravity pulled the rings into their circular shape.

“The roundness of planets, the circularity of planetary rings, and so many other beautiful phenomena follow naturally from the laws of physics,” Lightman writes in the book. “Which are themselves beautiful.”

Over the years, he has been able to look many times at the rings of Saturn, always regarding it as a “natural miracle” to behold.

“Every time you see them, you are amazed by it,” Lightman says.  

[lovedovechels]

Digital Detox and Self-prioritization

You`re endlessly doom-scrolling on your phone. Your thumb glides from Facebook to Twitter to Tik Tok then to Instagram and back to Facebook again, all within an hour. You scroll until you're consumed with feelings of anxiety, envy, and fleeting bursts of joy. You scroll until you`re overpowered by the desire to be someone else, doing something else and YOU CAN BE! This desire is easily achievable when you put your phone down, take a break from social media, and start living in the real world! I should know, I was just like you once.

I was the girl with a daily screen-time of over ten hours. My life was sedentary, and I was always plagued by envy and bitterness towards the people on social media who seemed to have their life together and were out being exciting people who did exciting things. 

I remember one evening I was carrying out my normal routine of doom-scrolling when I was bushwhacked by a migraine so crippling that it drew a family member`s attention. After relaying my ache to them, they humorously suggested it was probably because of my phone. 

This was my epiphany. Their joke was right- I was spending too much time on my phone and while trying to ignore my pounding head, I recalled all the hours I spent bent over my phone, bleary-eyed and envious of the life of content creators and micro-influencers. 

I recalled watching gym content and admiring these creators' progress while not having the faintest idea of the last time I worked out. 

I used to dedicate my time to passionately responding to comments in defense of celebs who did not know of my existence. I did not once dedicate this same level of commitment and dedication to my passions. 

I posted pictures of myself and religiously compared the likes, views, and comments I garnered to those of my mutuals. I tried to maintain a curated online image that was disingenuous to who I was- heck, I barely knew who I was without the influence of social media.  

This enlightenment (and my migraine lol) shook me to my core. I had to do something fast. I deleted my Twitter, Instagram, and Tik Tok. Since going offline, I`ve had a multitude of free time which I`ve dedicated to self-prioritization and improvement.  

I`ve since fallen into the habit of : 

Creating to-do lists so that my days are productive. 

Picking up new hobbies (blogging via Tumblr, painting, and writing) 

Reconnecting with old hobbies (Reading; so far, I`ve read two books from @kelseytheballerina ‘Digital Minimalism’ reading list). 

Dedicating time and energy towards being more organized and efficient (completing tasks without the temptation to check my phone or the distraction of incoming notifications that require me to update, share, or respond).  

Trying new recipes and cooking more

Gardening (I am currently growing Spinach)

Consistently exercising (working out between 30 minutes to 1 hour) 

Learning a foreign language (Eu falo portugues!) 

Deciding to engage in Bible Study and Quiet Time  

Since deleting social media, I`ve experienced so much personal growth. I feel more self-directed. My life was waiting to be lived and enjoyed just beyond the glare of a screen and I`ve since embraced it and reclaimed my time and made myself a priority. I am finally figuring out who I am, AND YOU SHOULD TOO! 

[nadvs]

Hello! Im the anon who asked for a fic with rivaly at college 😍 OMG! I love what this turned in to. You are an incredible writer!! I hope you know that. You have me hooked. You write dialog amazingly. It feels so real. Never stop writing!!

Can you write something about when she get jealous? Maybe when he is in the NBA?

Hope you have a great day!

Love from Sweden

HIII omg it’s such a good premise!! i remember being in love with it the second i read your ask 🙂‍↕️ thank you so much 💘 i’m so touched that people like the au and want more of it 🥹

based on this fic

» au masterlist

rafe can get wildly, intensely jealous. and while they often joke about how similar they are, that’s one trait she doesn’t share with him. until he gets signed and moves away.

he doesn’t have as much time for texts and calls. he’s training with his new team, working up to the season. she gets it. or at least, she tries to.

she already had unwelcome thoughts swimming in her head when he had been signed to a team states away about him getting lost in the fame and potentially being unfaithful. she never worried about him cheating before. and she hates that she’s doing it now.

but she tries to keep it in. things between them are already tense. accusing him of something just because she’s insecure isn’t fair and will likely just push him away.

then, she visits him. they share their first i love you’s. they’re in a good place.

but when the season starts, that’s another story. it’s surreal seeing her boyfriend play on tv on such a massive scale, thousands of seats surrounding the court filled. she’s so happy for him and whenever the camera focuses on him, she can tell he’s nervous and she loves that she’s the only one in the world who knows it.

but then between periods, she catches glimpses of his team’s cheerleaders before the cuts to commercial. and she can’t lie to herself that these girls are beautiful. and she wonders if maybe he already lived out the college fantasy. maybe now that he’s a professional player, he’ll have his eyes on professional cheerleaders. or really, any girl, because she’s sure he could get any girl he wants.

as the season goes on, because she likes to keep up with the nba on social media, specifically him and his team, her tiktok automatically shows her videos and edits of her boyfriend, some comments from fans about how he’s the next best thing, but most from girls going crazy over how hot he is.

it puts her into a funk. he sees gorgeous cheerleaders at every game. he gets comments on his instagram from beautiful girls. the internet is losing their mind over him. how can she possibly compare?

so, the next night she’s on facetime with him, she can’t hold it back any longer. after they talk about their days, she starts to pick at a string on her shirt, looking down.

“so…” she says. “do you ever get a chance to talk to the cheerleaders?”

rafe looks at her with knitted brows. she’s been off since she picked up the phone, seemingly mad at him. it’s not like them to not be direct.

“baby, what’s wrong?” he asks.

“nothing,” she lies. “just wondering if you ever talk to them. they’re good dancers.”

he hates the way her lips are turned into a frown, her eyes off the screen.

“i only wanna talk to one cheerleader and she’s pretending she’s not mad at me right now,” he says.

this earns a smirk from her.

“they’re all so pretty,” she says. “i’m not blind. and you’re not, either. there’s no way you haven’t noticed them.”

“i moved here to play,” rafe tells her.

“and you know girls online are going crazy for you,” she continues. “don’t act like you haven’t seen all the comments on your instagram.”

rafe studies her image on the screen.

“you know you have nothing to be jealous of, right?” he says. he hates to admit it, but it’s kind of flattering, especially because she isn’t usually the intensely jealous type. it shows him she still wants him.

she sighs. of course he sees right through her. not like she’s being subtle anyway.

“i do, though,” she says. “and maybe it’s stupid to talk about because i’m annoying you and making you feel like i don’t trust-”

“you’re not annoying me,” he interrupts. “you’re being really cute, actually.”

“cute,” she scoffs, her eyes still low.

“look at yourself on your phone,” he says. she rolls her eyes and obliges, gazing at her reflection on the screen.

“now what?” she mumbles.

“if you can’t see how beautiful you are, maybe you are blind,” he says.

“stop,” she laughs softly. “it’s not that i don’t trust you. it’s just that… it has to feel like a waste to be getting all this attention and ignoring it all because of some girl back home, doesn’t it?”

“some girl,” he echoes. “you think you’re just some girl?”

she shrugs. his chest aches.

“you’re my best friend,” he says. “i wouldn’t fuck this up for anything or anyone in the world. you’re it for me.”

her vision blurs with tears. she flattens her lips together and finally nods.

“sorry,” she says weakly.

“for what?”

“for being so jealous.”

“i already told you it’s cute,” he says. she smiles again.

“i love you, okay?” she mumbles.

“i love you, too, okay?” he teases.

they talk for another hour, then she tells him she needs to go to sleep so she’s not totally exhausted for her morning lecture. he has the day off the next day, so he stays up a bit longer on his phone after they hang up.

when she wakes up, she sees hundreds of instagram notifications on her phone. rafe posted a photo of them from the last time she visited, tagging her with the caption: All I need.

before she even gets out of bed, she’s crying. because of how good he is to her. because he’s telling the world he belongs to someone already. because she’s sure that he loves her just as much as she loves him.

[nurse-floyd]

Perfect The Way You Are

Carlos Sainz x reader

Anon request: Could you maybe write something for Carlos, where the reader is going through some insecurity issues (basically where she compares herself to the other wags or other women on instagram or other social media). And Carlos just comforts her and tries to help her through her insecurities. I’ve been having a hard time with that recently so I’d love to read this, thank you 🫶

Warnings: alludes to mentions of past ED struggles, body dysmorphia and low self-esteem/ self-confidence.

You walked beside Carlos, your hand clasped in his as you made your way through the busy paddock. You loved Carlos and were immensely proud of him and were his biggest supporter when it came to racing. Being with him made you so happy, yet the constant comparison online to the other WAGs, by media and fans as well as by yourself, slowly chipped away at your confidence every time you made an appearance at a Grand Prix. The other WAGs were effortlessly stylish, slender, and beautiful; all qualities you told yourself and believed you lacked. 

Carlos squeezed your hand a little tighter, noticing you were in your head lost in thought. His grip helped to bring you back to the moment and grounded you. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyes filled with concern. 

“Fine, Carlos,” you forced a smile and nodded. 

He studied your face a little longer, knowing you too well to know you weren’t in fact fine, but he also knew better than to question it. You’d talk to him when you were ready. Carlos was soon whisked away for various media duties and last-minute preparations before free practice, which left you alone to your thoughts again. You sat in a quiet corner in the hospitality tent and watched the other WAGs in their designer outfits, their big beautiful smiles, and perfect hair as people asked for photos of them. The old familiar feeling of not ever being enough, of hating how you looked, crept in and gnawed at your self-esteem even more. All the thoughts you’d tried so hard to overcome so easily crept back in. 

You decided to head back to the hotel early, not wanting to stay around the paddock any longer. You messaged Carlos and told his team to let him know you weren’t feeling well and headed back. You followed the last free practice and qualifying on your laptop, glad to have watched how well Carlos had done. You tried to ignore the other news flashing up with shots of the other WAGs; your Instagram feed was also full. There were photos of you, and you saw all the fan comments, but the only ones that stood out to you were the comparisons, the hate comments, and it only intensified the thoughts you’d been having all day. That evening when Carlos got back, you were already asleep. He quietly closed your laptop, climbed into the bed beside you, and held you close. The next morning, when his alarm went off, you lied, telling him how you still didn’t feel well. 

“Okay, mi amor. Stay here and rest, okay? Make sure you eat something and drink lots today,” he placed a kiss on the side of your head before he got ready and left for the day. You logged onto your laptop just to watch the race but spent the rest of the day in bed sleeping. 

Carlos found you in the same place he’d left you that morning. He sat on the bed beside you as he ran his hand through your hair, “wake up, Mi vida,” he called softly. 

You grumbled awake but smiled at having him back by your side. You sat up and pulled him into a hug. Despite showering and changing before he came back to the hotel, you could still smell the faint scent of champagne in his hair. “Well done today, baby. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to celebrate.” 

He kissed the side of your head and held you a little tighter, “I missed you today. How’re you feeling? Have you eaten or drank anything today?” 

You knew there was no point lying to him, and you’d been caught out despite your promise earlier that morning. He ordered room service before climbing into the shower to rinse off the rest of the grime from the day. The thought of eating anything was terrifying in that moment, but you knew you weren’t going to get off that lightly. 

You were glad of the two-week break before the next race. The days following that weekend, the feelings only intensified. You hadn’t felt this bad about yourself in years, and you weren’t entirely sure what had triggered you so badly. The mirror became your worst enemy; the body dysmorphia only intensified your feelings and distorted your reflection into someone unrecognizable. Urges long past began to resurface as you slowly and so easily found yourself slipping back into old destructive habits. 

Your boyfriend noticed the changes. He saw how little interest you had in things you used to enjoy, how you pushed your food around your plate, and how you missed gatherings with the other drivers and WAGs during the break. Your once vibrant personality was dim, the smile not quite reaching your eyes. A few nights before the next race, after a day spent training and in media and promotion duties for Ferrari, Carlos found you on the balcony of your hotel alone, staring blankly out at the sparkling lights of the city as night drew in. 

He took the seat next to you and wrapped a protective arm around you. You leaned into his embrace and rested your head on his shoulder. 

“Hi,” he said softly. He chewed on his lip for a moment before he pushed, knowing he couldn’t take no for an answer anymore. He wanted to help and support you in whatever way you needed. “What’s going on, amor?” 

Tears threatened to spill as you finally felt the walls you’d built up around you come crumbling down. You wiped at your eyes with your sleeve as you prepared to spill everything. “I…I’m not good enough for you, Carlos. Compared to the other wives and girlfriends, I’m just so…plain. I’m not pretty enough, I’m not thin enough, or as fashionable.” 

Carlos’ heart broke as he saw you so sad, so broken. He pulled you in tighter to his side and pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “I want you to listen to me,” he said, his voice calm and steady, “you are and have always been enough. You are the most beautiful person in the world to me, inside and out.” 

You scoffed and shook your head in reply, no longer caring to wipe away the tears, “I see how they look. I see what the media and fans say and how they dress. I can’t compete.”

Carlos gently placed a hand on your cheek as he pulled your face to look at him, “you do not have to compete with anyone. I love you and only you. Your kindness, your compassion, and love. I love you for more than your looks, even though to me you are the most beautiful person in the world.” 

You let out a small laugh. Carlos’ words and the love and honesty you saw in his eyes helped to finally break through the self-doubt that had been plaguing your mind. “I can feel myself slipping, and I’ve fought so hard to overcome all of that. I thought I had overcome all of that.” 

“You’ve got through it once before, and we’ll get through it again,” he promised, “you’re not alone, y/n.” 

Carlos was your rock the next few days. He listened to you as you vented, encouraged you to talk to him when he saw your mind wandering, and showed you just how much he loved you and how much you meant to him in more ways than one. 

You weren’t fixed, far from it, but as the next race came along, you walked through the paddock with his arm around you with your head a little higher. With Carlos by your side, it didn’t matter if another WAG wore an outfit more stylish than yours or their hair was fixed more perfectly because you had him. Carlos’ love and support were all you needed in that moment and reminded you that you were more than enough exactly as you were. 

[m4sonn]

✧*̥˚ The outsiders Modern AU Headcanons *̥˚✧

- Credits to @stevelovbot on Tumblr for the inspo for this post! And also credits to my friend @peachyponyboyy who I collaborate with for these!! :3

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Ponyboy

• Is a big fan of the Simpsons and can quote almost any episode word by word.

• Says that The Godfather is his favorite movie ever but it’s actually Mamma Mia. He secretly loves musicals.

• Is the only one with a Tumblr account and he’s pretty active in there.

• Definitely writes fan fiction or character studies in AO3.

•The only person that knows about that and gets to read them is Johnny.

• His pfp always matches Johnny’s in any social media platform.

• When he feels annoyed/pissed by his brothers, he likes signing them up for random ass newsletters and whatnot, making sure they get spammed constantly.

• He loves digital books and owns a Kindle but he feels like nothing compares to real books.

• His bi awakening was watching hunger games with dally and seeing peeta, made things worse when he saw the fnaf movie, he’s just a wh0re for josh hutcherson. (He would’ve made the whistle baby edit /j 😣😣🔥🔥)

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Sodapop

• Is the only one who can actually use TikTok and he’s pretty popular. He loves doing trends with the gang, probably forcing them to do the cinnamon challenge. (they agree bc they're all stupid)

• Loves avocados a lot and gets teased for posting pictures of his meals.

• His favorite game is Assassins Creed but isn’t a big fan of the community and fandom around the game. He just wants to play it and have fun.

•Facetimes the rest of the group whenever he wants, specially Ponyboy and Darry.

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Darry

•He’s the owner of the only Netflix and/or any other streaming accounts of the group and is the one who pays for it. The rest of the gang add their own profiles and watch everything they want. (Or they share one account, there is no inbetween)

• Likes to keep up with the news and current affairs, so he follows a lot of reporters and activists on Twitter and Facebook. He’s subscribed to lots of newsletters for sure.

• Was the biggest football star of his school and got a scholarship thanks to it. He went to college but had to stop playing football eventually due to a freak accident on the field. However, this didn’t sadden him, since he got his diploma and works in things related to football anyways, he works as a coach for the local youth football team.

• His phone password is Ponyboy and soda’s birthdays mixed together.

• He is a big fan of No Doubt, when he found out that they were performing at Coachella, he absolutely lost it and started saving for a ticket immediately. When he went and saw them in the front row he cried, absolutely WEEPED.

• Constant listener of destiny’s child and connects with survivor on a personal level and he’s not scared to admit, you’ll sometimes hear him singing it while he’s doing stuff around the house while listening to music

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Dally

•Has been blocked by multiple celebrities on Twitter AND instagram, on various occasions.

•Is a very big fan of The Hunger Games and one of his favorite characters is Peeta.

•Makes sure to be the first one to text Johnny on his birthday, even if they’re standing next to each other.

•Loves crime/serial killer podcasts and has good knowledge about these topics.

•Hates going to the dentist. There is a very embarrassing video of him being out of it after getting one of his wisdom teeth removed that Johnny recorded (Dally forced Johnny to take him since he was scared).

•Is always listening to music and doesn’t like sharing his earphones unless it’s Johnny.

•Has practiced a lot of sports during his life and his favorite one so far is boxing.

•Got drunk one New Year’s Eve and confessed that Darry was like the brother he wished he had had, and that his New Years Resolution was to make it up to Darry (He never did, since he had forgotten). and nobody has ever let him live it down.

•Secret fanboy of the neighborhood, one time he thought nobody was home and started singing daddy issues at the top of his lungs, two-bit has it on video and never lets him hear the end of it about it.

• Still enjoys stealing and robbing old ladies and young children and still enjoys annoying random pretty girls on the street (so basically still and ahole)

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Johnny

• Wears denim overalls with cute sweaters and loves jackets with lots of pockets.

• Loves spicy food and is the only one in the group who can actually eat it without any problem.

• Has always wanted a puppy or any kind of pet but his situation at home always made it impossible. Because of this, Pony gifted him a goldfish one Christmas and they set the fish tank at the Curtis’ so Johnny could visit it as much as he wanted without risking getting his parents angry.

• He gets really attached to that fish pretty fast and treasures the gesture behind it. Pony and him name is Frost.

• Pony and him use Twitter DM’s just to send memes to each other and store them.

• He has a private Twitter account that only Pony gets to follow.

• Can speak Spanish and French.

•Owns a leather jacket that had been Dally’s a couple of years ago and takes care of it as if it was made of gold.

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Two-Bit

• He’s the reason why Darry had to get a Disney+ account.

• Knows all the songs from Frozen I.

• Wanted to have a mouse as a pet (since…mickey mouse, duh.) for a while but Darry refused.

• He doesn’t admit it, but he loves sweet drinks made of fruits and cocktails more than beer.

• His socks never match and they all have at least one hole in them.

• Is the one that gets the most excited about Christmas. He’s not particularly religious but he loves the decorations, and the lights, and the whole mood in general. He’s the one that always makes sure the rest of the boys have presents, even if it’s something small.

• His first time going to disney world he bawled his eyes out, like full on mental breakdown inside the park, Ponyboy and Sodapop saved up all their birthday money, allowance, and paycheck money for about a year and a half to buy the tickets. (they wanted to get a fast pass and like the entire deluxe trip for him, that's why it took so long.) Ponyboy was SO embarrassed from two-bits crying, “You’re 22, Stop. Crying. Over. Mickey.” but still was happy for him.

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Steve

• He tells everyone his top artist is Limp Bizkit but it's actually Queen, his top song was good old fashioned lover boy.

• Wakes up early to watch the F1 races and has never missed a season of Top Gear since he was little. His favorite was Hamilton, but ever since he saw that race with verstappen vs hamilton, his opinions have changed…

• He’s the best at playing video games, and he especially likes horror ones like Resident Evil. (absolute wh0re for Leon Kennedy, i am too tho so no shame)

• Sodapop and him are always playing online together and they sometimes let Ponyboy join them. Him and Sodapop gave ponyboy an unplugged controller once and said it was wireless (for the shitz and giggles and to see how long it took for him to notice), he realized half way through the game and told Darry who then yelled at them for 5 minutes.

• Doesn’t like TikTok and is always going about how Vine was just much better. (He’s stuck in 2014..)

• Gets angry when his texts go unanswered in the group chat (they do it on purpose since they know it pisses him off.)

• He listens to cotton eye joe on repeat, change my mind.

[silentscrying]

🎸 out of my mind ! 💿 track four: a conflict of interest

guitarist!ino x drummer!reader

summary: it's the annual battle of the bands at the fix, your college campus's iconic live music bar, and this year you're taking the stage as the drummer for indie rock group cursed technique. you know the competition is strong, but no part of you is ready for lead singer and guitarist takuma ino. you lock eyes at the edge of the stage, and something starts—something that might make you feel alive even more than the beat of the drums.

warnings: language, MIDTERMS, alcohol, PTSD/trauma, panic attack, naoya, discussion of car crash (not directly described), mention of deceased parent, literal wholesome sleeping together. || sfw. 8.4k words.

YOU’VE ALWAYS LOVED fall—the sharp, cool note that tacks itself onto the breeze, the crunch of leaves beneath the wheels of your longboard, the early sunsets over the shapes of the campus skyline. Usually, a week this beautiful would find you outside enjoying it. But for the same reason that you haven’t gotten Takuma alone since Saturday, you’ve been cooped up indoors, frying your brain.

The problem is midterms.

The week is a blur of class and homework and reporting and rehearsals, and you hardly ever see Takuma, or really anyone outside of your classes and rehearsals, save for the brief comings and goings of your housemates at strange hours of the day. You’re all drowning in work, and any wish you have of talking to Takuma without the rest of his band present washes itself away in an avalanche of assignments and emails and post-it note to-do lists all over your desk.

When you see him with Megumi and Yuji and Kirara, the both of you dance around all the things you want to say. Because you have to. You don’t have time to flesh this out, put a label on it.

You and Toge spend hours wrapping up your project story. Your comp midterm is eight to nine double-spaced pages of hell, excluding citations, and on top of it you’re balancing media law case studies and your elective comparative lit class.

And this is one of your lighter semesters.

Your housemates don’t have it any easier, Yuta and Maki wrapped up in senior capstone proposals, Nobara grinding her way through the rest of her gen. eds and practicing marketing presentations in the mirror, even Toge scrambling to get work done.

Between cramming and writing and squeezing naps in wherever you can, you and Takuma orbit around the unspoken truth of your kiss on the roof, borderline flirty but never crossing that line. Not over the phone.

you: how goes the algorithming you: or whatever the fuck takuma: I’M DYING takuma: KM GOING CROSSEYED takuma: havent touched grass in days. eons even you: :( same you: we’ll touch grass when this is over takuma: if it snows i will literally dig it up for you istg

You laugh despite yourself, sighing as you lean back in your desk chair, looking out the window. God, you want to kiss this boy again. Fuck school, fuck your busy schedules. Christ, you can’t believe it’s only Wednesday.

you: aw for me takuma: anything for you🫡

It shouldn’t make you blush so furiously in the privacy of your own room, but it does.

A soft knock on the doorframe draws your attention, and you spin in your chair to find Yuta leaning there. His dark hair is a mess, like he’s just taken off a hat, and his cheeks are red with the bite of cold air. He must’ve just gotten home.

“Yuta!”

“Hey.” He grins, holds up his phone so you can see the time. “You eaten yet?” It’s a rhetorical question. You shake your head, recognizing the call to action for what it is, and close your laptop, joining him at the doorway. You need a break, anyway—you just wrapped up a draft of a paper, and you need to do something else before you look it over with fresh eyes.

“Wanna make stir fry?” you ask, and Yuta lights up.

“Read my mind.”

The kitchen is cast in gold as the sun sinks over the rooftops, and you smile at the little hello, my name is stickers on Yuta’s plants in the windowsill. As the two of you grab bowls and pans and ingredients from the fridge, you realize you haven’t really spent one-on-one time with him in a while. You’ve missed it.

“We haven’t done this in forever,” you say, tossing a green pepper over your shoulder. He catches it with one hand and puts it on the cutting board.

“I know,” he laughs, gentle in the same way that everything Yuta does is gentle, and you’re suddenly struck with the horrible thought of how much you’re going to miss him next year. “I feel like we haven’t had any one-on-one time recently. But I’ve been meaning to, uh… well, I should thank you, for giving me that time with Maki. I don’t know that I’d have made a move if not for you.”

“So you’re the one who made the move?” You grin, elbowing him fondly. “Maki wasn’t very forthcoming with the details.”

“I wouldn’t say I made the first move,” he admits. “I started making dinner, and then she started scribbling on something over by the plants. And I was so confused, and then I realized she’d bought these.” He gestures to the plant name tags, a fond smile on his face. Half the handwriting is Yuta’s loopy scrawl, and the other half is Maki’s more jagged counterpart. “She knew all their names. Which is crazy. Sometimes I barely remember.”

You move to the cutting board and start on the peppers while Yuta fires up the stovetop. “That’s sweet,” you say. “You guys are good together. I’ve only been waiting for like, an entire year.”

Yuta chuckles and looks over his shoulder at you. “I asked how she remembered all the names and she said something along the lines of did you know people actually listen when you talk, and I’ve never been particularly good at hiding my facial expressions.” You snort, because you know that better than anyone. “And then I said Toge definitely doesn’t, and she rolled her eyes and said I kept missing the point.”

“Oh, smooth.” You move over so Yuta can reach into the cabinet above you for the seasoning. “And then you asked what the point is?”

“Mhm.” Yuta hip-checks you lightly as he moves back to his place by the stove, and you relish the familiarity of it. He’s one of your best friends, and you’ve missed doing this with him, cooking with him, talking to him. “She said the point is I’m an oblivious dumbass who should just shut up and kiss her already. So I did.”

You have to put the knife down as your laugh bursts out, shaking your shoulders, because that’s the most Maki thing you’ve ever heard. “And you’re together now?”

“Mhm.” Yuta flushes a little. “She’s great. I wasn’t really gonna say anything… ever? She’s out of my league, Skip.”

It should maybe feel like a bigger deal that Maki and Yuta are finally a thing, but in a way, it’s like nothing has changed. They’ve always been close, and you’ve always known they’re perfect for each other. It felt inevitable, and now it’s happened, and it feels right.

“You’re both out of everyone’s league,” you correct, turning to lean against the counter, crossing your arms over your chest. “And neither of you think you deserve each other, which is exactly why you do.” He smiles, shy and small, and your heart warms in your chest. “I’m happy for you, Yuta.”

“Thanks.” He ducks his head a little, his tell-tale sign of embarrassment, like when Takuma scratches the back of his neck. God, why does everything remind you of Takuma?

Like he can read your mind, Yuta says, “Your turn. You and Ino? I know everyone’s in the loop except me.”

The next half hour or so passes with you explaining the details of your night with Takuma yet again, the smell of stir fry eventually drawing Toge out from the cave (his and Yuta’s bedroom) around the same time Nobara sweeps through the door with Maki in tow. It’s the first time the five of you have been in the same room outside of rehearsals all week.

“Ooh, my god,” Nobara sighs, smelling the stir fry. “That’s the good shit. I owe you my life.”

“You can do the dishes,” you suggest, and she deflates as she unwinds the scarf around her neck and tosses it on a hook with her coat.

“I’ve made a fatal mistake,” she says.

“How’re midterms?” Maki asks as she brushes past you, tossing her jacket onto a chair, and you shrug. In response, Toge puts his head face-down on the counter, and Maki looks to Yuta, waiting for his answer. It’s like they don’t know how they’re supposed to interact in front of you all, now that the whole band knows.

“You don’t have to dance around each other anymore,” Nobara points out, blunt as ever. “We’ve watched you do that for years. I honestly think I’d rather watch you be gross.”

Toge raises a brow. “Careful what you wish for.”

“Let’s break the ice! Let’s talk about it!” Nobara crows, grabbing you by the elbow. “Reenactment, Skip. You be Yuta.” She leans dramatically over the plants, pretending to write on the name tag stickers. “This one is Pikachu.” Yuta definitely does not have a plant named Pikachu. “You’re an obtuse asshole, Yuta Okkotsu,” Nobara says in a truly horrendous impression of Maki, turning around and grabbing you by the shoulders. “Now kiss me.”

“Oh my god,” Maki says flatly. “I hate you.”

“She didn’t call me an asshole!” Yuta says indignantly.

Maki nudges him with a shoulder, which is probably the closest thing to PDA you’ll get out of them for weeks. Nobara’s teasing will only make them less willing to show affection in front of the rest of you. Maybe it’s reverse psychology and that is what she wants.

“Table,” Yuta says, pointing to Toge. “Nobara, go sit in the corner and think about your actions. Maki, could you grab the plates?”

“Girlfriend privilege!” Nobara cries, not making any move to listen to Yuta. She grins at you and you can’t help but smile back. She’s being obnoxious about it, but she also held in her teasing about their relationship for ages until they figured it out on their own. You know she’s just as happy for them as you are.

“You better keep Ino away from this one,” Maki says as she dishes up the stir fry and slides the plates across the counter to Toge, who ferries them over to the table without complaint. Nobara wiggles her brows at you in a way that very obviously says you can try, but you will fail.

When the five of you crowd the little table in the makeshift dining room, it’s honestly the most relaxed you’ve felt all week. For an hour it’s just you and your best friends, talking and ranting and joking and eating some damn good stir fry, and you can forget about all the work piling up on your desk and the boy down the street you desperately need to talk to and the performance in two days that’ll decide your band’s fate. It’s good.

You grin at Nobara as she gestures with her hands while telling a story about this girl in her marketing class, at Toge trying and failing to steal the snap peas from Yuta’s plate, at Maki fondly watching it all unfold.

Despite her earlier complaints, Nobara doesn’t hesitate to get started on the dishes, and Toge dries while you sit at the stool by the counter and chat with them. Nobara shoves a plate at Toge to try and he nearly drops it onto one of the plants, earning him a look from Yuta very reminiscent of a parent scolding their child.

"Sorry, Snorlax," Toge says to the plant he nearly attacked. "Hey, these are helpful, actually. Good job, Maki."

You stare at the name tags, something starting to grow in the back of your mind. Hello! My name is...

"Yes," you breathe. And then you launch out of your seat and grab your notebook from the other room.

You have an idea.

—

You’re bouncing on the balls of your feet, spinning a drumstick in your right hand as The Cull wraps up their ten-decibels-too-loud set onstage. Waiting in the wings, Hakari and another stage tech linger by your kit, waiting to swap it out, and the rest of your band goes through their usual pre-performance rituals.

Maki leans against the wall, eyes closed, moving her fingers along her bass without making any sound. Yuta’s quietly checking his tuning for the thousandth time tonight. Nobara does laps around the backstage area, humming and mouthing words to herself, her guitar carefully leaning against the wall beside you.

Toge is straight up just dancing to the other band’s music in the corner.

And you’re here, spinning your sticks between your thumb and index finger, index and middle, middle and ring, ring and pinky, back again. Back and forth, back and forth, the worn wood dancing across your knuckles.

Midterms are over. Projects and papers are turned in, exams are taken, laptops are strewn forgotten across the living room for the weekend. All your attention is here and now, Friday at The Fix, Battle of the Bands. Lifeblood might be a good word for it, you think, whatever this kind of rush is to you. It’s electric.

The Cull finishes with a screeching of guitars and a held-out note that could very possibly be classified as a scream, and then Panda takes the stage, the techs start moving, and the other band files past you in the backstage area.

You nod as they slip by and they return the gesture, not seeming all that interested, but you don’t care. It’s time.

Sliding onto the throne, you adjust the hi-hat and pound the kick a few times. Nobara winks at you from center stage, and you make eye contact with each of your bandmates in turn, confirming they’re tuned and plugged in and ready to go.

And then you launch into your new song, unable to help the smile spreading across your face.

It begins with a drum solo, a mild rhythm on the floor tom. You add the kick, then move to hat, and Maki comes in, then Toge, then the guitars. And then Nobara leans forward and starts to sing.

“You’re in the corner watchin’, at the party, Solo cup in hand. I’m on the dance floor, one more wild girl who needs a place to land.” You glance out over the crowd, stage light blinding you from your position toward the back of the stage. You can’t see shit, but it’s like you can feel his eyes on you.

“Been goin’ solo, flying so low, meet your eyes and draw you close.” Nobara yanks the mic off the stand and belts,“You ask my name, I tap your chest, and I say you already know!”

Power chord, two big beats, one, two, three, crash—

“Hello, my name is everything you ever asked your gods about. Hello, my name is somebody who needs a guy to take me out…”

The music washes over you, thrums from the soles of your sneakers to the tips of your fingers, gets you high on spotlights and amp feedback. You wrote this song about a lot of things. On a surface level, it’s Maki and Yuta’s song, drawn from the name tags on the kitchen plants. But on another level, it’s about Takuma, and you know your whole band knows it.

“Hello, hello, my name is yours if you want it,” Nobara finishes, and you finish with two cymbal hits and a kick, grabbing the cymbals between thumb and index finger immediately after to mute them. It’s a sharper finish than a lot of your songs, punchier, and it feels good.

“We’re Cursed Technique!” Nobara shouts, and Yuta plucks a few strings as he retunes for one of your older tracks. The set goes by all too fast, and then you’re finishing with Next Fix, the beat under your hands familiar and automatic. You’re on my mind at two a.m., you help me find deliverance, I think it’s time I get my fix.

You’d stay here forever if you could, just making music with your favorite people, but your set ends and you have to retreat backstage, Black Flash passing you in the wing as they prepare to round out the night.

“That was awesome,” Kasumi Miwa whispers as she passes you, and you grin.

“You’ll be awesome.”

When Mai appears around the corner, she stops short. You glance at Maki and realize Yuta’s hand is on the small of her back, and Mai has zeroed in on it. Yuta looks like he’s about to pass out, his hand frozen a half-inch away from Maki’s back like he doesn’t know if it’s better or worse to let go, but Maki seems entirely unfazed.

Instead of addressing Maki, though, Mai looks right at Yuta, a slender brow raised in an expression you aren’t quite sure how to interpret. On Maki, it would be teasing, but on Mai it could be a challenge or a threat or a judgment just as easily.

But she only says, “Thought you were gonna take that to your grave, Okkotsu. Been long enough.” She breezes past all of you without another word, and Yuta stares at the place where she stood only moments before, slack-jawed.

Maki shrugs. “Well, that’s that.” The sound of tuning instruments floats back from the stage and Maki starts moving, looking confused when Yuta doesn’t immediately follow. “What?”

“She—what?” Yuta gapes, and Nobara and Toge catch up to you, herding you backstage.

“I can never tell how mad you two are at each other,” you tell Maki.

“We’re bonded by mutual hatred of our own family. We have an understanding,” she shrugs. “She approves of Yuta. I don’t give a shit. If she didn’t, I still wouldn’t give a shit.”

Sometimes you’re very, very glad you have no relatives at this school.

Maki elbows Yuta lightly and he seems to relax, shrugging off the interaction with Mai.

“On another note!” Nobara chirps. “That was fucking awesome.”

And then you hear, of all things, a trumpet coming from the direction of the stage. It’s a very recognizable riff.

Black Flash is covering September.

“What the fuck?” Toge asks. He holds up a hand and darts back to the wing, peeking out on stage. When he returns, his brows have shot up, mouth open like a fish. “Muta has a trumpet. Muta’s playing a trumpet. Since when does he know trumpet? What the fuck?”

“Miwa. Guaranteed,” Nobara says. “Momo’s been trying to get him to learn for years, but he wouldn’t even be in that band if Miwa wasn’t there.” She grins. “I bet Momo was so mad when he finally did it only ‘cause Miwa asked.”

“They sound straight out of a damn recording,” you murmur, craning your neck as if that’ll help you hear better. “They’re fucking good, guys.” Part of you wants to slip out into the crowd just to see them perform. These guys really have their art down to a science, as little sense as that might make, and you can’t help appreciating it.

They segue into a new song with a wild sax solo that you know to be Momo’s, and Nobara grabs you by the hand and twirls you around backstage, some jazzy movement with no real choreography. We’re going to lose, you think idly, but you understand why. There’s something infectious in this music.

Even Maki and Yuta can’t stand still once they’ve put their instruments away, and eventually the five of you are jumping around like a bunch of idiots as Black Flash closes out their set with an explosive series of riffs and chords, and the crowd’s cheering floods the place, all the way to backstage.

You hear Panda’s voice, or more so the bass-heavy sound of him speaking into a microphone, and you only really catch voting.

“Sweet democracy,” Toge says. “I pledge allegiance—”

“How about don’t?” Maki drawls.

Toge nods. “My bad. I’m supposed to be loyal to the queen now, anyway.” Maki’s brows furrow, but she must decide it’s not worth questioning, because she turns away and starts talking to Nobara.

Has anyone actually told Toge the queen is dead?

This time around, ten minutes feels all too short, and suddenly you’re on the stage again, Black Flash at your left and The Cull on their other side. Panda is in front of you all, mic in hand, the results on his phone.

“We have literally never had a vote this close,” he says, and the crowd draws in a collective breath. “The difference between first and second place was two votes.”

“Shit,” Nobara breathes out beside you, so soft nobody else could possibly hear. Two votes. That’s fucking insane.

“But we do have a winner,” Panda says, “and the band moving on to the finals next week is…”

This time, there’s too much attention on your band for Maki to make a comment about Panda’s dramatic pause. In the quiet, somebody shouts, “Woo, girl drummer!” and it sounds an awful lot like Kirara. You smile sheepishly.

Maybe you made it. This was definitely your best performance yet, and the crowd seemed to love the new song—

“Black Flash!” Panda shouts, and your stomach twists a little even as you smile and whoop for the winners. The stage explodes in movement as your band and The Cull converge on the members of the reigning Battle of the Bands champions, congratulating them.

“Amazing set,” you tell Kasumi earnestly. Deep down, you knew you didn’t have much of a chance against them. Still, you’d hoped.

You think you catch Maki muttering, “Y’know, not bad,” to Mai, but you could be wrong.

After you slip backstage, Panda catches up to you. “Y’all were second,” he tells Nobara. “Just thought you should know. That was real close.”

Part of you is immensely gratified that you beat The Cull. That you came that close to kicking Black Flash out of their championship spot. You’re bummed, but honestly? It’s enough for you.

And now Shibuya Incident and Black Flash will compete in the finals, just like last year. Takuma’s got a chance to dethrone them.

After locking up the drum kit in the back storage room (which Shoko blessedly lets you use free of charge), you head out to the floor. Toge splits off to talk to someone from a comm class, Nobara beelines for Yuji and Megumi, and you figure Maki and Yuta are being antisocial in a corner somewhere. It doesn’t take long for Takuma to find you.

“Skipper!” You turn to find him grinning at you, and you can’t help but mirror the expression. “That was amazing. That song was amazing, you were amazing. I mean, are. You are amazing.” His hand drifts up to the back of his neck, and part of you wants to reach out an intercept it, tangle your fingers in his. But you hold yourself back.

“Thanks,” you beam.

“Man. You should’ve won,” Takuma says earnestly, squeezing your shoulder. You took off your bomber jacket before the show—drumming is already a lot of movement, but the stage lights make you sweat—so his fingers skim the place where your T-shirt sleeves end and your bare skin begins, sending a spike of electricity down your spine. “You kicked their asses in my book.”

There’s that warmth again, flowering in your chest cavity. Even when his hand falls from your arm, the impression of his touch stays there.

“They were good,” you say, conceding defeat. He shrugs, like whatever you say, and you’re about to finally ask him if you can talk in private when Yuji materializes out of nowhere, nearly making you jump out of your skin.

“Dude!” he crows, slinging an arm around your shoulder so aggressively that you nearly stumble, laughing. This kid does not know his own strength. “That was so good. So good. You should’ve won. That was insane. The new song?”

“That’s what I said,” Takuma says, raising a brow at you, and you’re flushing again.

“Ino, we’re getting Taco Bell,” Yuji says. You plaster on a smile when he turns to look at you, like you haven’t been going out of your mind the entire week needing to be alone with Takuma. “You want anything?”

Yuji’s not trying to interrupt anything. Poor guy just wants Taco Bell. You stifle a sigh. “Nah, I’m good.” You catch Maki’s eye from the other side of the room, and she waves you over. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

“Hey, you should come over later,” Takuma says before you can turn away. “Gotta catch me up on your midterms. I feel like I haven’t seen you all week.”

Yes. There it is. Exactly what you need.

“That sounds great,” you say honestly. “Call me when you guys get back?”

He gives you a two-fingered salute with a grin that makes your heart stutter a little. “Yes, ma’am.”

—

Nobara mourns the loss the whole way home, but by the time Maki pulls into the driveway she seems to have gotten all her feelings out and is back to her determined we’ll-get-it-next-year self. The guys drove separately with all the guitars piled in the backseat, and they beat you home.

You’ve just sat down on the couch and kicked off your shoes when your phone buzzes, a familiar but unexpected name floating across the screen.

INCOMING CALL: TSUMIKI FUSHIGURO

You slide to accept the call, waving at the boys to quiet down. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” Tsumiki says, in that tone of voice that means she’s running on multitasking business mode. A low, static humming in the background tells you she’s calling from the car. “So, there was some kind of accident on 34th a couple blocks down from the science complex. I know you’re on features, but Yuki’s out of town and most of the freelancers are younger and haven’t done breaking yet. Are you busy? I can try the sophomores if you can’t, or I can go, but I’m just coming from work and I might take too long—”

You’re already grabbing your bag and your board, mouthing newspaper to Yuta and Toge, who are giving you curious looks as they dig through the movie collection under the TV. The intersection’s not far from your place at all, or from The Fix, for that matter. Yuki’s the news editor, and if she’s out, it makes more sense for someone who’s already done breaking to go. Time is of the essence with these sorts of briefs. “On it, don’t worry,” you say, pushing out the front door and waving to Maki and Nobara on the way. “Photog?”

“Yeah, I’m calling around after this. I’ll get someone there. God, thank you, you’re a lifesaver.”

“No problem. Call you when I’m done.” You hang up and shove your phone into your back pocket as you careen down the street, headed toward the spot Tsumiki mentioned. Now that midterms are over and you’re free of your academic obligations, you can actually take the time to savor the cool night air and crunch of freshly fallen leaves under your wheels. Hopefully the crash isn’t too bad—Tsumiki didn’t seem incredibly worried, but it’s likely she was operating on very little information.

It doesn’t take long for you to hear the commotion, and you round the corner to see a few cop cars blocking off the crash site on the side of the road.

The second you’re close enough to see past the officers and their cars, your heart plummets.

It’s a red Hyundai.

Smoke billows out from beneath the hood, but the other car’s got it worse, the passenger side smashed in. The way it’s positioned—it shouldn’t have even been possible, unless the other car was genuinely driving in the wrong lane.

“No,” you breathe, kicking your board up and running, and then you’re flashing your press card at a campus policeman—he tries to get you to stop anyway, but there’s no way he’s catching you now—and you’re sprinting to the wrecked car, heart shouting in your chest. You see Yuji first, trying to brush off a concerned-looking Megumi, and then a pair of cops approaching them, and another cop arresting someone—shit, you know him, what’s his name? Naoya, that’s Maki’s dickwad cousin—probably the driver of the other vehicle, but where’s Takuma, where—

When you skid around the far side of the car, Kirara giving you a surprised look, you see him leaning up against the tree. He’s sitting on the grass, one leg pulled up to his chest and the other stretched out in front of him, his forehead resting on his knee. His shoulders are shaking, his hat’s on the ground, Kirara is beside him talking lowly and glaring at anyone who tries to get near him—

Until she sees you.

“Thank god,” she breathes. She doesn’t ask why you’re here. She just guides you to sit down in front of Takuma. “Can you—”

“Is he hurt?”

“No, I don’t think so, he’s just—”

“Got it.”

She backs off to give you space, and then you’re on the ground, knees in the grass in front of Takuma. Panic attack, PTSD episode, whatever it is, you’ve dealt with these before. You remember the roof, his quiet voice, explaining what happened to his dad, how he was in the car, how he hates driving because of it. You’d bet anything Takuma thinks he’s back there.

“Kuma,” the nickname slips out before you even realize it. He jerks and looks up at you, shock and confusion written all over his face. He’s full-on trembling, and your heart shatters in your chest. “Hey. Hey, I need you to breathe.” You hesitantly reach out and take his hands in yours, watching him carefully to see if he tries to pull away. He doesn’t. “You’re okay. Everyone’s okay. You’re safe. Can you take a breath for me?”

He’s not fully here, you can tell, his eyes glassed over and his breath catching in his throat. You scoot closer to him, put your hands on either side of his face, blocking out the sirens and the chatter and the crowd. “Takuma,” you say. “Look at me.”

His frantic, moving stare settles on you after a long moment, and he seems to realize abruptly that he is having a panic attack. You can see the moment it clicks in his mind, that if he was twelve years old in a car crash with his father, you couldn’t be here in front of him, and now it’s up to his body to get the message across.

“Breathe,” you say again, drawing in an exaggerated breath and blowing it out slowly. “C’mon, with me. You got this.”

Takuma gasps, trying to follow your instructions as you talk him through it, counting inhales and exhales and starting over every time his breath hitches. “Doing great,” you promise. The rest of the world—the cops, a very angry Megumi pacing back and forth, Kirara speaking rapidly on the phone—might as well not exist. It’s you and Takuma and your breaths in the air between you. Nothing else matters, not right now.

All of the struggles you’ve had this week, papers and feelings and not enough sleep, feel suddenly unbelievably small.

There are things that matter in a much louder way, and this is one of them.

“Christ,” Takuma breathes out eventually, burying his head in his hands. One of the cop cars erupts with the blare of sirens momentarily before stopping again, and the sound has his shoulders tense with worry all over again.

You don’t even think about it. You just pull Takuma into you, wrapping your arms around him, like you can put the both of you in a little bubble away from everything else. “Hey, hey—”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and you furiously shake your head. “Just—the sirens—“

“No,” you say firmly. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Takuma.”

He shudders and you rub your hand up and down his spine. “Is the other driver…?”

“A stupid fucking drunk driving in the wrong lane?” Kirara practically spits as she rejoins you near the tree. “Yes.” The cop just took her statement and has moved on to Megumi and Yuji.

You’ve never seen Megumi this livid. He’s gesturing wildly at the other car, and you remember idly that Naoya’s his cousin too, that this is a little personal for him.

“Yeah, but is he…?” Takuma trails off.

“He’s fine,” you murmur, your heart clenching for this boy, who’s been through so much and just relived the worst day of his life and still wanted to know if the other driver was okay. Jesus. He’s too good. “Everyone’s okay.”

You pull back to hold him at arm’s length, scanning him up and down for injury, and he’s staring at you like you just fell from the sky. “Skip—I’m really glad you’re here but—why? What are you…?” His voice is a little hoarse. His gaze trails down to the press pass hanging from your neck, and he cracks a wry smile. “Y’know, when I told you write a story on me, this isn’t really what I had in mind.”

So much relief floods you at once that you think you might actually start crying. “Jesus,” you croak out, and the smile drops from his face.

“I’m okay,” he says quickly. “Just—got the wind knocked out of me, but it’s fine. Skipper—”

You lurch forward and wrap your arms around him before he can finish, needing to feel him breathing, his heart beating. You also hear his breath hitch as he winces, and you pull back in alarm. “Shit, I’m sorry, what—”

“It’s okay,” he says. “Just sore. I’m fine. Really.” He leans back against the tree. “Airbags.”

You slump back against the tree too, deflated as the limp airbags in the ruined car. “You guys okay?” you ask as the others, done with their statements, turn toward you.

“Yeah,” Kirara says, but Megumi shakes his head and points to Yuji, who’s nodding even while cradling his wrist to his chest.

“It’s fine,” Yuji insists, and Megumi looks at him, incredibly unimpressed. “Well, it’s not broken, I can move it.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s okay,” Megumi says flatly. And you look at him, his expression so familiar, and abruptly realize you’re supposed to be writing a brief.

“Shit,” you mutter, pulling out your phone. “I’m working for your sister right now. I gotta…” You point to the phone. Megumi winces but nods, and Tsumiki picks up on the first ring.

“Hey! Done already? You find Yoshino okay? He said he—”

“Uh, no,” you say sheepishly. “Actually, I—uh, okay, everyone’s fine, but Megumi’s here. If I—”

“Slow down!” Tsumiki blurts. “What? Shit. Frick. Where’s Gumi? Can you put him on the phone?”

You wordlessly hand your phone to Megumi, who’s looking more pained at the concept of talking to his sister about this than the accident itself.

A few cars pull up—a white one screeching to a stop that really should not have been going so fast in front of a bunch of police officers, and then a darker gray one that arrives smoothly after, neatly pulling up against the curb. Gojo practically launches himself out of the first car, looking around until his gaze locks on Megumi, who hangs up the phone with a quiet okay, thanks and then immediately groans upon seeing Gojo there. Nanami and Shoko get out of the second car much less dramatically and trail after Gojo to the cluster of you by the tree.

“Megumi!” Gojo calls as he jogs over. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Megumi grumbles, trying and failing to brush Gojo off. “Where’d you come from? Don’t you have work?”

“Geto and Utahime are closing down,” Gojo says with a shrug. “We heard and came as fast as we could. Figured I’d bring our resident doc. Or Nanami would, since she wouldn’t ride with me,” he says loudly so Shoko can hear. She just rolls her eyes.

Megumi tosses you your phone and says, “Forget the brief, you’re good.” You nod, pushing to your feet and offering a hand to Takuma.

“We,” Gojo says, placing one hand on Megumi’s head and the other on Yuji’s, “are going to the ER.” You expect Megumi to object, but it’s Yuji who tries to wave Gojo off. Except he tries to physically wave him off with his bad wrist and immediately grimaces. Megumi swats him on the shoulder and gives him a serious look that says we’re going, don’t argue. You figure Tsumiki will probably meet them there.

Shoko stops to talk to Kirara a short distance away, and Nanami keeps walking, making a beeline for Takuma—and by extension, you. It doesn’t escape your notice that the second he’s within range, some of the tension in Takuma’s body seems to vanish, seeping out of him and into the grass, like the tree’s roots are taking it on for him.

Nanami’s usually immaculate hair is a little disheveled, like he ran his fingers through it. Without his usual glasses on, he looks a lot less daunting, a lot more personable. The worry in his expression is well concealed but very much present.

“Ino,” he says. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Takuma says unconvincingly. “Fine. Just—yeah. Drunk driver, you know…” He scratches at the back of his neck, and this time you don’t check yourself. You reach up and grab his hand, slotting your fingers between his. He shoots you a grateful look before turning back to Nanami. “I’m okay. Really. Thanks for… um…”

“Of course,” Nanami says before Takuma can say anything more. You release his hand so he can step forward. You’ve never seen Nanami hug anyone before, but apparently there’s a first time for everything.

“You’re not going with Gojo?” he asks when he pulls back, hands planted on Takuma’s shoulders. It feels very paternal. You’re not sure you should be listening in.

“Nah, I’m okay.”

“I’d feel a lot better if you got checked over,” he says, his voice firm but not unkind. “Would you let Shoko look at you, at least?” You’re relieved when Takuma nods, letting Shoko pull him away.

Gojo leads Yuji and Megumi past you, back to his car, and Yuji stops to whisper, “Never fear, Skip, the drum set was not in the car.”

“Oh my god,” you say. “Yuji. I’m more worried about you than the drums.”

“Aw, Skip!” he says happily. “That’s nice.” You roll your eyes but can’t keep the fond smile off your face, and you know Megumi’s probably doing the same thing, though you can only see the back of his head as he follows Gojo. Yuji bounds off after them, still cradling his wrist to his chest but seeming very unconcerned about the whole ordeal.

Yet another screech of tires alerts you to a truck appearing from the other end of the street. Hakari doesn’t even bother to shut it off, jumping out and leaving the door hanging open.

“Kira!” he shouts, pushing past the remaining officers. “Kirara!”

“Over here!” Kirara calls, thanking Shoko and weaving around the slowly diminishing crowd. Someone’s already showed up to tow Naoya’s car, and another truck probably isn’t far behind. Kirara gets swept up in Hakari’s arms, her trying to reassure him she’s fine, and you find yourself left alone with Nanami. He studies you openly, keen eyes and a calm, very slight smile on his face.

“I don’t think we’ve met, officially,” you say sheepishly. “I’m Skipper.”

“Kento,” he says, holding out a hand. You shake it and feel abruptly like you’re talking to a business executive. As Shoko looks Takuma over on the other side of the big tree, Nanami—Kento—lowers his voice a bit and says, “Ino’s told me all about you.”

The heat rises unbidden to your cheeks, and you hope the evening dimness hides it. He talks about you? To Nanami? You aren’t really sure how to respond to that, but luckily, Kento spares you the trouble. “Look out for him tonight, will you?” You can tell from the tone that he’s testing the waters, trying to determine how much you know about his dad.

Hopefully the message gets across when your gaze drifts back to Takuma over Kento’s shoulder and you say, “I plan on it.”

“He’s alright,” Shoko announces, and Takuma appears at your side again. “Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix.” Something loosens in your chest at the words, something that tied itself into knots the second you saw Yuji’s car and hasn’t let up since.

“Hey,” Hakari calls, he and Kirara approaching hand in hand. “You guys good?”

Takuma nods, and you shrug. “Wasn’t in the car.”

“We’re gonna head back to Kirara’s. You want a lift?”

Takuma glances at Kento, and you feel the truth of his words that day on the roof, about Nanami being the closest thing he has to a father.

“Go home, kid,” he says. “Sleep it off. Call me if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” Takuma says, like a breath of relief. He looks exhausted. But he’s here in one piece, and that’s what matters. Your fingers brush his as you walk back to Hakari’s truck. It’s a quiet ride, a short one, your board on your lap and your press pass still dangling from your neck.

“Oh, Skipper,” Hakari says when he turns onto your street. “Your house over here? Or are you coming to theirs?”

You glance at Takuma, but before either of you can say anything, Kirara says, “She’s comin’ over.” She catches your gaze in the rearview mirror with a knowing look and you manage a weak smile. You can’t imagine letting Takuma out of your sight right now, honestly.

The dogs are there the second Kirara opens the door, and Takuma practically falls into them, burying his face in their fur as they nuzzle up against him. Shiro turns to you after saying hi to the others and noses at your palm until you scratch her behind the ears.

“Hi, sweetie,” you murmur. “Good girl.”

Kirara nudges you with her shoulder as she brushes by, glancing down at Takuma and then back at you. You nod. I got him. She offers you a small smile before she and Hakari disappear around the corner.

“C’mon,” you murmur, tapping Takuma on the shoulder. He nods, pushing to his feet and patting each dog on the head one more time. You follow him upstairs, feeling a little out of your depth. After all, he’s not the one who decided you were staying.

When you’re both standing in his room, you shift on your feet a little, wondering how to word it. “If you want some space—”

“No,” he blurts, unexpectedly loud, and then his cheeks go a little red, sheepish. “I mean—uh. I could… use the company. If you don’t mind. You don’t have to stay, obviously, just—”

“Kuma.” You laugh a little, watching him freeze, glance up at you mid-ramble. “I would love to stay.”

“Oh.” He grins. “Cool. Okay. Um.” He turns around and grabs a pair of sweats and a tee from his dresser, then holds them out to you. “If you want…? Or I can ask Kirara, I’m sure she’d let you borrow something, or obviously you live right down the street or—”

Something about the idea of wearing his clothes makes you go a little warm all over, and you accept them without hesitating, cutting off his rambling. “Thanks.”

“I’m gonna…” He jerks his thumb toward the door. You don’t know if he’s just giving you the space to change or going to shower or what, but you nod, waiting until the door clicks shut behind him to tug on the sweats and shirt. The shirt is huge on you, one shoulder sliding off, a fading logo of some music festival on the front. You sit on the edge of Takuma’s bed, tucking your knees under you, and then your phone rings. Tsumiki.

“Hey,” you say, pressing it to your ear. “They’re okay?”

“Yeah, Yuji sprained his wrist but nothing else. Pretty minor, all things considered,” she reports. “They’re on their way back to the house.”

“Good,” you breathe, the relief evident in your voice. “Thanks. Do you… are you sure about the brief?”

Tsumiki chuckles. “Hey, not your job to worry about the press tonight.”

“I can still try to… write it,” you say half-heartedly, dreading the thought of it. “I mean, I saw the scene and…”

“Don’t even worry about it. Genuinely,” she says. “You and I both know that’s a conflict of interest.” You huff a weak laugh. What an understatement. “More importantly, you sound exhausted and I’m sure that whole thing stressed you out. Listen, the photog I had on it wanted to break into writing anyway. No time like the present.”

You immediately feel even worse, because your photographer was probably looking for you at the scene and you just left him hanging.

“Stop,” Tsumiki says, like she can read your mind through the phone. “He handled it well. It’s fine, Skipper. Get some rest.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, but she’s already gone. You shoot a quick text to the group chat explaining what happened, that everyone’s fine, and that you probably won’t be home tonight. Takuma doesn’t want to be alone, and honestly, you don’t know if you could leave him if you tried.

It doesn’t take long for the texts to start pouring in.

utah: let us know if any of you need anything!! maki: keep us posted and tell megumi to answer his dumb phone nobara: WHAT nobara: OH MY GOD???? nobara: well i’m glad everyone’s okay nobara: christ freak no. 1: alsjkfq qEQht

You frown at the keysmash, wondering if Toge dropped his phone or actually just doesn’t know how to communicate like a normal person.

you: ??? freak no. 1: sorry SOMEONE TOOK MY PHONE,,,, utah: because SOMEONE DOESN’T KNOW WHEN IT’S AN APPROPRIATE TIME TO SEND MEMES, TOGE maki: nvm he picked up maki: go to sleep, skipper, we can talk tomorrow

Toge texts you privately thirty seconds later. It’s the meme of Gru laying out his evil plan and then realizing it’s a horrible idea. The first frame says answer the phone, the second says get the breaking news like a baddie journalist, and the last frames say realize you know everyone at the scene of the crime. You laugh out loud. Toge knows you. He knows you needed this. He wouldn’t have sent it if he didn’t think it’d cheer you up.

A half-second later, another image comes in, but it’s just a picture of Nobara with her hands clasped together in front of her mouth, speechless and absolutely thrilled. The full image shows her swooning over a little puppy, but you long ago cropped it and started using it as a reaction image in your chats.

freak no. 1: me when ur okay :)

“Aw,” you murmur. Toge can be sweet sometimes. You start texting back, but then another message comes in and you backspace immediately.

freak no. 1: me when ur spending the night with your boyfie :) you: i was gonna say thanks but then you kept going freak no. 1: me when she texts back :) you: goodnIGHT TOGE freak no. 1: me when she goodnight texts :)

Takuma knocks softly on the door before cracking it open, waiting for you to give him the green light before coming in. He’s changed into his own pair of sweats, and his hair is ruffled and wild around his face. “Hey.”

“Hi.” You toss your phone on the bedside table and scoot over to make room. “You okay?”

He sits cross-legged on the bed, and you turn to face him. “Think so,” he says. “Just… felt like I was back there for a minute.” His eyes go distant just for a moment, and your heart twists in your chest. You scoot forward, knees bumping against his.

“Glad you’re okay,” you murmur, and it doesn’t feel like enough, but he gives you that soft, open look that makes you feel like you could say anything at all and he’d treasure it.

“Glad it was you and not some rando reporter.”

You grin, holding a fist out to Takuma like it’s a microphone. “How do you rate Skipper’s hug on a scale of one to ten?”

He leans forward, playing along. “Uh, you know, it was so long ago I might not have a really accurate rating. I would have to probably hug her again—”

You don’t let him finish, surging forward and wrapping your arms around him, tackling him down onto the bed in a fit of laughter. Caught off-guard, he has no defense, and after a startled moment his arms snake around your waist, and you lie there, looking at each other with barely-restrained grins.

“Well, that one was pretty good,” he murmurs. “Nine, I think.”

You gape at him. “Nine?”

Another smile dances across his lips, and you suddenly really want to kiss him.

“Guess you’ll just have to keep trying.” He shrugs innocently, and then tries and fails to stifle a yawn, which makes you yawn in turn. It’s late, night having draped itself over the city hours ago, and the effects of barely snatching hours of sleep all week are finally creeping up on you, weighing you down.

“Go to sleep,” you tell Takuma, grabbing a blanket from where it’s been wedged between the bed and the wall and shoving it toward him.

“You go to sleep.”

“Bossy.”

But he shakes the blanket out and lets it fall over both of you, trapping your warmth beneath it, and sleep feels very, very appealing.

You think about the paralyzing, all-consuming fear that took hold of you when you saw the car. The thought of anything happening to him—you actually can’t even fathom it. And you think about what that means, and that you’ve only known this boy for a month, but you feel like your heart beats on the same channel as his.

Geto’s words play themselves over and over in your head, Maki’s mixing themselves in until you have a chorus of phrases bouncing around like pinballs.

Your heart is not a finite thing.

You already know.

The question isn’t if he likes you, or if you like him. It’s whether you’re gonna let it play out or shut it down before it has a chance to.

If you’ve got something, love it while you have it.

Geto was right. You don’t know how long you’ll have this for, have him for. But you better make the most of it while you do.

But Takuma’s eyes are already closing, his arm slung over your waist, seeking your warmth, your comfort. He looks exhausted, shaken. These aren’t conversations for tonight. Tonight, you just hold him, and feel his breath against your neck, and revel in the fact that he’s okay.

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a/n: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG, TEAM. i've fallen into another anime hyperfixation (blue lock) and it's killing me slowly. one part left of this fic !!

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Both of which Harry and Meghan did before the BRF caught on. Or at least Meghan did, with her drip-drip-drip of bracelets, spooning bananas, and union jacks on Instagram.

And it's something no one ever gives her enough credit for: social climbing like a 19th century novelist's dream, but using social media! And outwitting the BRF itself, and all its courtiers and social media experts.

Someone should write a doctoral thesis on her social media mastery, and I'm saying it without the least trace of irony.

Of course, team BRF eventually got back on track, Meghan overreached, and the pandemic reshaped social media use, so she couldn't do it again for Megxit. And she can't do it for ARO or the other million failed initiatives, it's not the same playground, not the same rules.

Oh, I'm sure there will be some people that study her downfall. It may not be academic, but it'll definitely be noted.

Also, social media's transformation as a result of the pandemic didn't impact Megxit. Megxit, if you remember, was December 2019 - March 2020 when the Sussexes were negotiating with the BRF. The Sussexes were able to use social media effectively (somewhat) at that time and they were able to bargain *some* concessions from the BRF - namely the one-year trial period in which everything the Sussexes had were put on hold into abeyance (versus being taken immediately).

What the pandemic did impact was the Brand Sussex Relaunch in 2021, but it wasn't social media that did it - it was the collective global cultural shift caused by the pandemic, where all the "me-me-me" celebs/influencers lost much of their social currency while the "for the better of others" advocacy celebs/influencers gained prestige. In the US, that cultural shift was helped along by the social justice reckoning of Black Lives Matter in summer 2020, which actually would have been more in Meghan's favor but she was - as always - a day late and a dollar short, making a plea for the BRF to reckon with modern social justice 6 months too late.

And in the UK, that cultural shift was cemented by the death of Prince Philip, the Platinum Jubilee celebrations, and the death of Her Late Majesty (commemorations for which recognized over 70+ years of service to the crown, their nation, and the world), and that was the nail in Meghan's coffin. Philip's illness and death coming so soon after the Oprah interview provided an instant "compare and contrast" moment for both Meghan and Harry that they were left so far in the dust not even Tom Cruise's scramjet from Top Gun: Maverick could help them catch up to the BRF.

[genericpuff]

I’m gonna have to disagree with you that Kaos is any better than LO. It’s all the same bull crap.

Kaos just seems like live-action LO, both having a boring storyline with bad or fetishized characterizations of the Greek Gods and figures, and both looking artistically beautiful and some cool concepts, but badly executed. The only difference is that Kaos has more LGBTQIA+ themes than LO, has a tiny bit more Greek references, and gets much darker. That’s pretty much it.

As a Greek who studies our myths and stories extensively, I’m tired of the west trying to take and rearrange our stories and retell them ‘with a modern, western lense’. It’s exhausting and infuriating.

It’s time the west gets over its fascination with us and move on.

Fair opinion! Honestly, the initial post I made about it was after only watching the first couple episodes. Now that I've finished it, I can definitely see actual glaring issues with it, both in their characterizations as well as in how they kind of lose the intrigue after a few episodes of the setting and elements of them being gods. Which are all issues that LO have as well.

Though I will say, LO has those issues far more than Kaos does, but what really separates LO from Kaos, in my opinion - the creators of Kaos aren't pretending that Kaos is more than it is. To me, Kaos isn't in any way a singular Greek myth retelling, more so a fun "Greek epic" style story featuring the gods in a modern setting, the way LO could have been if Rachel hadn't tried to make it into something bigger than it was (and if she didn't put herself on a pedestal as a "self proclaimed folklorist"). I can watch Kaos and appreciate it as a fun Greek myth inspired piece of media because that's pretty much all it's trying to be. Meanwhile LO gives us middle-school-level writing with very little real Greek myth influence (aside from what it benefits Rachel to do so) that even goes so far as to outright disrespect the myths that they were based on... all the while people praise it as the greatest Greek myth retelling ever.

I think Kaos is miles better than LO because it at least tells a more coherent story than LO ever could have, with a lot more attention paid to the stylization of a Greek epic (compared to LO which tried and failed to implement those same things, such as the Fates, self-fulfilling prophecies, and witty narration as to retell a story that's already happened).

Granted, that story still takes a lot of liberties with the source material (some that I enjoyed, others not so much), but in that regard, I refer to the above - Kaos isn't trying to be an actual retelling like LO did, so I view it the same way I do as something like Hercules or Hades, where the people who made it clearly love Greek myth and wanted to do some Greek myth-inspired story with their own twists on the narratives, and it paid off in a story that, in spite of their flaws, still feels intentional and thought out.

LO, by comparison, is just a mess of ripped off half-baked ideas thrown at a wall and filled in with self-fulfilling power fantasy garbage written by someone who claims to have deeper knowledge of the myths but clearly doesn't. It's hard to enjoy LO in spite of its flaws because it's all flaws and they're so deeply-rooted in the context of Rachel's own biases and sexual preferences that you really can't separate it from that once you know if it.

I do have some criticisms of Kaos and some of its more creative choices - Hera cheating on Zeus with Poseidon (literally wtf lmao), Persephone still being the "I went down there willingly!" archetype (though at least she's not 19 in this, the casting for her and Hades was great), as well as the fact that things weren't wrapped up by the end of the first season which really bums me out because now it's up to the mercy of Netflix to give it that second season - but ultimately, from a story-writing perspective, Kaos absolutely did accomplish having an actual narrative with themes and goal-driven writing that LO failed in having. That comparison doesn't make Kaos a 100% perfect show without flaw, but I made the comparison initially anyways because much of what I enjoyed in Kaos was what I expected from LO (and ultimately didn't get).

That's just my own two cents though! And I need to make it clear - I am not a Greek person! I have no say or merit within the discussion regarding Greek myth and how it's been appropriated!! - so ultimately... my opinion of these things really aren't as valuable as someone who actually is Greek or studied heavily in it.

So that said, I can completely see the merit in your own arguments that a lot of these "modern retellings" tend to miss the point of the stories they're trying to retell (esp with the criticisms I outlined above) and are often chewed up through a Western lens. The lesser of two evils is still evil. But if we're purely talking Kaos vs. Lore Olympus here as modern entertainment that are both attempting similar things... I'd be way more likely to rewatch and recommend one over the other. Plus there are a lot of adaptions out there made by Westerners / non-Greeks that are incredible and are, at the very least, amazing stepping stones into the world of Greek myth for those who want to learn more about it. Out of the pool of ongoing modern Greek myth retellings/inspired works - Blood of Zeus, Hades/Hades 2, Kaos, Epic: The Musical, Hadestown, Hercules, Percy Jackson & The Olympians, and Lore Olympus - it's not hard to guess which one I'd be the least likely to recommend as gateways into Greek mythology. If those titles were organized in a list of best to worst, Kaos isn't at the top of that list, but it's sure as shit higher than LO 💀😆