#The question in the post is rhetorical. I will be strong and not do it.

[drowsinginspace]

I was on tiktok for a few months in 2020 and I genuinely didn't care for it at all; uninstalled the app and my account. Literally every scandal / bad take now comes from it. I do not care about the dances, and the stupid memes from it are probably on Instagram at the same time. It wasted my phone's battery way too quickly. All I miss are the silly filters. Should I make an account again?

[seventh-district]

.

[avelera]

Arcane's Jayce & Viktor: A Tech Industry Perspective

I've been wrestling with whether to make a short and sweet post about these points or to just have another long-winded meta and clearly since I'm incapable of being brief, I guess we'll just dive in.

I work in tech. What I see in this industry colors a lot of how I see Jayce and Viktor in Arcane. I'll try to be brief about a few of the things that stand out to me the most and that I think are intentional.

1 ) Jayce and Viktor are references to Alfred Nobel - This is a historical reference so direct I genuinely don't know how people grasp Jayce and Viktor's characters if you don't know about it.

Alfred Nobel is known for two things: inventing dynamite and bequeathing his subsequent fortune to founding the Nobel Peace Prize. These things are very much related.

Nobel was brilliant but socially naive. When he invented dynamite, he intended it to make life easier and safer for working in mines. Sound familiar? That is literally what the Atlas Gauntlets and Hex Claw Jayce and Viktor invented with Hextech was posed to be. It is a direct reference to Alfred Nobel and dynamite, there is no question about it in my mind whatsoever that they pose the benefit to society as specifically being useful to miners.

Nobel also believed that the awesome destructive power of dynamite would mean the end of warfare. Literally. He thought it was so disgusting and unthinkable that people would use explosives on each other that it would grind violence to a halt. He was very, very wrong about this. So wrong, in fact, that he spent the rest of his life in horror and remorse at how explosives were being used to kill people and created the Nobel Peace Prize to promote innovations aimed at peace, a prize which annually recognizes those who "conferred the greatest benefit to humankind".

Likewise with Jayce and Viktor, they are both horrified to imagine Hextech used for warfare and we think they're incredibly socially naive for thinking this, because they are. Maybe in another universe, there'd be the Talis Peace Prize to try to make up for what they unleashed on the world. Which brings me to my next point:

2 ) Jayce and Viktor have typical engineer blindspots to society's ills - As I've discussed in-depth in another meta, Jayce and Viktor both desperately needed some non-STEM or scientific classes in their life because their worldview is so naive and stunted as a result that it's the source of a dizzying number of their problems. Neither of them could even consider that Hextech, like dynamite, would be weaponized immediately. But they have other huge gaps too as a result of their narrow focus on science, and I do believe this is intentional by the writers as a commentary on engineers and tech people in general.

Short version, Jayce desperately needs some understanding of history and of rhetoric. When Ambessa asks him if his school teaches military history, he doesn't even know if they offer it. She was testing him with that question and as a canny manipulator and general, she clearly takes that to mean she can run circles around him, and she is right. Because with incredibly simplistic plays to his male ego, like calling his leadership "impotent", Ambessa immediately gets Jayce riled up and not thinking clearly. She blindfolds him, spins him around, and shoves him headlong into taking violent military action in exactly the direction she wanted him to go in to kick the nest and set off a war.

Jayce is also easily manipulated by Mel for more benevolent but still self-serving reasons with appeals to his life's work with flattery, his male ego with sex, and his dreams for a better world to make him fall quickly into step with the city's corruption with only a little nudging because he has no strong civic understanding of his own to fall back on. As Cait notes, he's never taken an interest in the Council or politics before until he becomes a Councilor himself.

Short version for Viktor, he wants to make the world a better place but he's never actually had to think through human nature before. He's literally never bothered. We know this because of his blindspot towards Hextech weaponry where he truly believed they could avoid it being used for warfare, and the fact that later in his cult, he's somehow shocked to learn that people will do bad things for the ones they love and won't just slice pieces of their own nature and personality off to fit into his little Utopian commune.

Literally cracking any kind of history or sociology book or heck, a Pratchett Discworld book, would have told him that there's a straight fucking line between deciding people are the problem when it comes to fixing society's ills and eugenics. He falls headlong into that trap and it requires his older, wiser self to beat him over the head with the truth of the horrors of his own simplistic worldview would lead to before he literally annihilates all life in his home city in his attempt to save it.

Which brings me to my next point:

3 ) Jayce and Viktor as oblivious tech nerds who have never cracked a book open but suddenly thinking that because they're great engineers, they have the solution to all of life's problems.

This is a somewhat shorter point, but I think in modern society we all know about the proverbial tech bro who keeps reinventing things like public transportation and taxes because they've never read a book in their life that doesn't have equations in it.

To be clear, they aren't bad people! I'd even hazard to say that young tech bros trying to make public good-based startups with a laughable lack of social awareness aren't bad people either! If anything, the education system has failed them, and they're pouring their intellect and earnest, human desire to help others into endeavors with the narrowest possible world perspective, which happens to be their field of expertise and thus it makes sense they'd see that as the greatest value that can offer, it's just too limited a view so they end up reinventing things that already exist or making worse, more dangerous versions of things that already exist. Tragically, their naive but well-meaning worldview often leads to:

4 ) Viktor and Jayce, but mostly Jayce, as tech bros being beholden to billionaire interests to make their dream come true:

Like Jayce, we see how these tech bros have their vision co-opted by people with a broader vision and understanding of the world, by billionaire investors who turn their inventions into making a quick buck for themselves, to warmongers and dictators who turn the creations of their mind into surveillance state horror stories. Some of that is a lack of wisdom on their parts when it comes to building in safeguards, sure, but part of that is there is a class divide too between the powerful and bright-eyed young inventors who just want to improve the world. As Singed notes, no one in power is ever innocent. And those in power have the capital to make a young inventor's dream come true and thus, tie them to their demands and interests. As Jayce said, they built the Hexgates, "Like [the Councilors] asked." Specifically this indicates that their vision has already been co-opted to serve financial interests. It also, again, makes it almost laughable how naive they are that they didn't realize warfare was next after trade.

Like many tech bros with billionaire investors, Jayce relied on the Kirammans, who were one of the wealthiest people in the city and literally on the Council that represents the State, and on Mel who is also part of the State, who is the wealthiest woman in Piltover, and who comes from a family of world-conquering warmongers, to make his dream come true from the very start.

From the beginning, Jayce was at a losing disadvantage when it came to keeping his dream ideologically pure and free of the influence of the wealthy and powerful.

And finally, just to point out that I'm not making this up, that these parallels are in fact intentional and built into the story:

4 ) Jayce and Viktor as parallels to Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak, founders of Apple. Christian Linke, co-creator of Arcane, specifically noted them as inspirations for Jayce and Viktor's relationship, with Jayce (Jobs) as the face of the company and Viktor (Woz) as the real brains behind the invention.

This caused a lot of sturm and drang on Twitter with people misinterpreting that he means Jayce isn't the actual inventor of Hextech, which I think is an overreaction. Jobs, unlike many tech bros who have earned society's ire lately like Musk, was actually an engineer too. It's completely common in tech spaces for partnerships to be made up of one partner who is able to handle being the public face of the company, and one introverted and socially awkward genius who prefers to sit in a dark room and actually tinker with the problem and who would literally rather set themselves on fire than talk to a non-technical human being. I know because I've been in such partnerships before myself as the public face.

Where Jayce and Viktor rather charmingly buck the stereotypes of that relationship and so in turn actually make it more like what I've seen in the real world, is the fact there isn't resentment between the two as a result. Viktor is glad that Jayce is willing to be the public face and doesn't want to get in the way. This is actually very common with the engineers I know! It's not seen as glory stealing, it's seen as sparing them awful, painful work they don't want to do, like networking.

Yes it means Jayce needs to sacrifice some time in the lab, but it's a simple division of labor that he's happy to do, especially if it frees Viktor from the responsibility so he can focus on what he loves, because Jayce loves him. And you'll note that Jayce is very above-board academically speaking on this front, he always cites Viktor as his partner and is scrupulous in giving Viktor credit, in conversation at least, even if he doesn't forcibly drag Viktor on stage to take credit there.

Anyway, when I write meta or even fic for these two, this sort of background is always on my mind, and I thought it might be valuable for others who maybe aren't as familiar with the tech space as I am.

[utilitycaster]

I referenced this in a longer post, but worth reiterating on its own: you do not need to hedge any statement that is a personal opinion, and you in fact strengthen your voice by not doing so. This is a core aspect of persuasive communication; I was taught this both in English class throughout high school, as well as in a public speaking course in college. In the latter, the lecturer advised everyone, but especially young women, to imagine ending every sentence that was not actually a question with an unspoken ", dammit!" to remind us not to uptalk.

You do not need to say "I think" or "this is just my opinion". You, in fact, should not say this if you want to construct a strong persuasive argument, as it's useless chaff meant to pacify people who want you to apologize for existing while holding a different opinion. If I see a post in which someone handwrings over how sorry they are that this might be different from what you believe I often stop reading. Why should I be swayed by someone who seems to be trying to convince themselves as well?

There are of course cases where hedging is useful: theories and speculation are among them. But in the case of an interpretation, presenting your opinion without fuss and faff and pleading for people to allow you to just speak for a moment (in an asynchronous medium where you can edit to your heart's content and cannot be interrupted nor stopped, specifically) is the only way to do so persuasively. Anyone who says differently is demanding an apology you do not and never will owe them for failing to say only words they like. They are not worth your time and they should not be your intended audience, and if they truly were upset by seeing your confident opinion rather than hoping you'd cave without them having to persuade you instead, they'd simply block and not respond. If they want you to agree with them, they can make an effort. Don't cede rhetorical ground that they've failed to earn.

[mixtape-timeout]

Hi Stays, this is a post to warn everyone to be wary of a SKZ author here on Stayblr with the username @/gimmeurtmi

I followed them not too long ago, but they suddenly blocked me. I was confused why because I have my age in my account and followed all of their rules. However, I have some reasons to suspect that this user is a Zionist. As you can see I am very Pro-Palestine, it’s in my blog title and bio, and I think this is why they blocked me.

They made a post showing anger about Stays educating Felix on his live about Coca-Cola (For people who don’t know, Coca-Cola is on the BDS boycott list, they support Israel and built an R&D center in occupied Palestinian territory of Atarot) In their post they said it’s “pathetic” for Stays to inform Felix about this and that he wasn’t doing anything wrong. Felix made the effort to read about the issue on his live and chose to apologize to Stay for it, but this user thinks that boycotting a brand tied to a genocidal state is the same as bullying.

((Screenshots are not mine))

They also showed strong support for the new SKZ collab with Charlie Puth. Many Stays are boycotting this collab because Charlie Puth is a raging Zionist, and the track also has an Israeli producer, Johnny Goldstein who is also a proud Zionist. gimmeurtmi even made a whole tag for this collab on their blog to show how much they’re excited for it, even though two Zionists worked on it and will be receiving royalties for it. You can also see the tags in the third post showing them speaking of Tommy Hilfiger, yet another Zionist, in a friendly manner.

Furthermore, I talked to other Stays in the community about this because I don’t want to jump to conclusions and gimmeurtmi blocked other users who are showing support for Palestine, not just me. From reading their posts on their other blog (@/stuckonspidey) you can also see how far their beliefs about this go. That’s not to say them being Jewish means they must be a Zionist, because that’s a completely false idea. There are plenty of Jewish people who are not Zionist and support Palestinian liberation because we recognize that what Palestinians are suffering through is a history repeat of what our people went through. But this added with all the other questionable evidence makes me suspicious that this user is a Zionist, or at least an Israeli sympathizer who treats support for Palestine as an inconvenience.

From these posts on their main blog, you can see them refuse to condemn Israel or even say anything about their crimes when they got asked about it. Instead, they just talk about how this genocide has personally affected them. There are no posts (that I could find) of them showing any sympathy or support for Palestine, all their posts about the subject are just self-victimizing posts about how they feel. Yes, it’s a scary time to be a Jewish person as well, I know this as a person of Jewish ancestry, too. But fighting anti-semitism AND fighting for Palestine can and SHOULD co-exist. It’s a huge red flag that the only thing they have to say about the genocide is how Jewish people are the victims in this. They also made another post where they claim that “Zionist” is just a word people use to be anti-semitic. This is a tale as old as time that Zionists have used to excuse, deny, and even justify Israel’s war crimes. I was once told that a genocide of Palestinians doesn’t exist and is just an “anti-semitic blood libel”. This is the exact same rhetoric that Zionists in my community and Zionist news outlets use (which, I add, almost ALL news outlets are strongly biased to Israel because of America’s ties to it. Israel is heavily backed in support from some of the richest and most powerful countries in the world, it is not the victim and never was).

I am not making this for drama. I made this post just to tell fellow Stays to be cautious of which writers you’re reading from and supporting. If you are against the genocide that has been happening to Palestinians for 75 years now, I suggest not supporting this person’s work, because at best they don’t care about what’s happening in Palestine, and at worst, they actually endorse it. There should be no place in our Stay community for this hateful ideology.

[semisasseater]

lip lip lip your so sexy sip sip sip make me empty

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · · ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ─ · ·

dom! se-mi x sub! reader

Summary: part 2 of this post i made!! you brought someone over when she was in her classes.. so what happens when she comes home and sees?

Tw: explicit content, se-mi the MUNCH, mature themes, degradation (se-mi called her a slut and slapped her but not to hard.. but hard) strong language, fluff, minors dni!! lmk if i missed anything!

authors note: omfg i had to lock in for this one because i genuinely had writers block, will this be ass? yes! will i regret it? yes! but my wife gabby did motive me to lock in and made me feel better so i wrote it gabby i love you so much my baby (ɔˆ ³(ˆᴗˆc)

Not proofread!

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All day long, you had been teasing her—wearing her damn shirt and those little booty shorts. You didn’t mean to tease her, though. She did tell you to wear her shirt. You didn’t have any classes, so you spent the entire day lounging around the dorm in her shirt and those tiny shorts, not thinking much of it. Besides, she got off early, right?

When she finally finished all her classes, Se-mi walked over to the dorm. She unlocked the door, stepped inside, and immediately stopped in her tracks. Her gaze was sharp and commanding, sending a shiver down your spine. Without saying a word, she walked over to the couch, her eyes never leaving you.

You froze for a moment, your pulse quickening under her gaze. “Oh… hi se-mi!” you greeted politely, though your voice trembled.

“Sorry, I need to borrow her for a sec” Se-mi said with a dark smile, her hand suddenly gripping your arm, pulling you toward your room. She shoved you onto the bed, pinning you down with surprising force.

“You think you can just walk around like that in front of your friends?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous. You stammered, struggling to find the right words to explain yourself, but before you could respond, she slapped you hard across the cheek.

“It was a rhetorical question slut” she hissed, her eyes flashing with anger. She let go of you, walking toward the living room as if nothing had happened. “Y/n’s sick. She said you should go home.”

“What? I—” they tried to protest.

“Just fucking go home” she snapped, her patience running thin.

“Damn okay” the other person muttered, getting up and leaving with a quick glance back. They closed the door behind them, and Se-mi immediately returned, locking the door behind her. She strode toward you, quickly flipping you over and pulling you onto all fours. Without hesitation, she ripped off your shorts and panties, leaving you exposed.

She bunched up your shirt—(her shirt)—and before you knew it, twenty minutes later, your back arched with pleasure. You moaned and cried into the big stuffed bear plushie she had bought you, your body trembling under the overwhelming sensations. Her tongue was rough on your clit, sucking it relentlessly, and the metal piercing made every flick of her tongue feel even more intense.

Her fingers slid inside you, scissoring and stretching you, while her other hand gripped your ass, squeezing it hard. You whimpered and drooled, “S-Se-mi…”

She pulled her fingers out of you, replacing them with her tongue. She worked it deep inside, hitting all the right spots. “I love you so fucking much” you whimpered, your body aching with desire.

“Gonna cum soon?” she asked, her voice dripping with control.

You could barely think straight, but her words pushed you over the edge. “Come for me, baby. Do it” she coaxed, and just like that, the tension snapped. Your orgasm hit hard, your body convulsing as you spilled all over her tongue. She greedily licked it up, savoring every drop.

Once she was done, she helped you clean up, her touch soft and caring. You lay against her chest, your head resting on her as you tried to catch your breath. “Drink some water, baby,” she whispered gently, though you were too tired to want it.

“I don’t want to…” you pouted, your voice small.

“I’m not putting up with that attitude baby drink it” she said firmly, lifting you gently. She cupped your chin with her fingers, guiding the water to your lips. You didn’t have much of a choice, so you drank it obediently.

“Good girl” she praised, cupping your cheek as you finished. She turned off the light and wrapped her arms around your waist, her breathing soft and steady as she held you close.

A question bubbled up in your mind, and you shyly asked, “…Does this mean we’re dating now?”

Se-mi smiled, her lips curling up mischievously. “Do you want to date me?”

“…Yes” you mumbled, burying your face in her chest in embarrassment.

Se-mi chuckled softly, her fingers gently brushing your hair. “You know, I’ve liked you since high school.”

You pulled your face away from her chest in shock. “WHAT?!” you gasped, your eyes wide.

She laughed at your reaction. “I don’t know how you didn’t know… I was weirdly obsessed with you.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “You weren’t that obvious!” you protested.

“Seriously Y/n? we literally kissed” she teased.

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I thought that was just… friendly…”

She chuckled, clearly amused by your confusion. “Oh okay.”

You finally sighed in defeat, looking up at her with love. “Se-mi, I love you.”

“I love you too my love” she replied, her voice soft and warm. She pulled you into a deep, passionate kiss, one that conveyed everything she was feeling.

As the kiss broke, you melted into her embrace, both of you drifting into sleep, content in each other’s arms.

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@semisasseater

Taglist : @angisforkedup

[bella-rose29]

Breathe

Elrond x gn!reader (Rings of Power)

not me coming out of my cave to post an Elrond fic then leave again 👀

also not me not writing anything for over a month (probably, I haven't counted) and then coming out with a near 5k fic oops

the original title for this was 'is he dead or not??? who knows' but I think this one is good too

Word count: 4.9k

Warnings: I think I killed someone writing this/made them need a lobotomy so consider that a warning to anyone who's gonna read (sorry), mentions of death, war, wounds, a child crying, the photo I'm gonna use is a warning in and of itself, I think that's it?

I feel I should add that this fic is actually happy (eventually) 😂 I reread the warnings and thought 'oh oops'

tagging @oblivious-idiot and @uku-lelevillain but if anyone else wants to be tagged in future Elrond works then let me know!

You could not breathe. 

It would eat you alive, all this waiting, chewing on your insides until it worked its way outward and left you but a shell of the person you used to be, and you wouldn’t have any way of stopping it. Your lungs felt tight as you cradled the head of a sobbing child, his mother dead after birthing him and his father out in the fray with the rest of the soldiers of Middle-Earth. He was young, had barely seen his homeland, let alone the world, and he had never seen war before. You were not so lucky as he - war had been your upbringing. You could fight as well as any other of the elven soldiers, but somebody was needed to look after those who could not, and so you had volunteered along with a small band of others: retired fighters and those looking to start out and join the ranks but were not quite good enough yet. You had trained them over the last few days that you had all spent in the safe hold, taking them through the basics of how to grip a sword and the best way to gut an Orc should they break through and make it to the doors of the underground cavern serving as your shelter. 

The child in your lap had stopped sobbing, his cries turned to sniffles, and you carefully lifted his body to nestle into your side. He was too young for war, you thought again, taking in the small points of his ears and the lack of angles on his face. You attempted a smile, hoping it would comfort him a little as you pushed a strand of his hair behind an ear, and whispered to him. “All will be well. They will return to us victorious, and we shall have no need of too many more tears.”

“But how do you know?” Children were inquisitive, which most of the time you adored, but when you are attempting to raise the spirits of a boy who does not know if he will ever see his father again, the questions become rather irritating. 

“Because I have seen many things, and because our armies are strong. They will defeat the darkness and bring light to our lands once more.” It was the best you could do when you did not truly know the answer. You had learned the art of rhetoric years ago, when Elrond Peredhel had first come to Lindon and had quickly discovered that for the elves to see past his half-elven status he would need to become invaluable, or risk being an outcast in the race he had chosen to be counted among. You had been the first to greet him, intrigued by this visitor from the Havens of Sirion when you had been born in Lindon and raised there, and he had been grateful for your tour and kindness. He had spent many an hour sat with you, commenting on his meetings and the politics of Lindon, and how he carefully navigated clashing personalities and difficult conversations, and so you had learned. 

You used it now, that knowledge that Elrond had provided in all those hours, to comfort this child. He had since taken to playing with a stick on the floor next to him, leaning further away from your side to entertain himself as he drew patterns in the dirt, and it gave your lungs the much needed space to breathe a little more. 

It had been hours and hours since the army had left, heading out onto the battlefield to meet Sauron’s forces, and you were getting impatient. Elrond had gone with them, determined to provide what help he could no matter your protests to him entering the fray. You had trained him up, knowing that he could hold his own but wanting to be sure that he would be alright, and when you had suggested that you go with him while tightening the straps of his armour he had placed his hands over yours (his hands were too soft - far too soft for someone about to go into battle), gently coaxing them from where they had fretted with the leather and returning them to your side with a sad smile. “You must stay here, melethel, and protect those who cannot fight.” The term of endearment never failed to heat your cheeks, or send a warmth up your neck and through your chest. “For my peace of mind, please stay here.” He had let go of your hands at that point, moving them up to rest on your shoulders as he looked into your eyes. A lock of hair had fallen over his face, and before you could think you were pushing it back into place, wondering if you had imagined him leaning into your touch that lingered a moment too long for two elves who were only friends and nothing more, his eyes fluttering closed for the barest fraction of a second before he was looking at you again, or if it had truly happened. What you were certain was real was the soft kiss he placed on your forehead, lips brushing the skin with such care and tenderness while his hands on your arms squeezed like you would disappear that it made your eyes sting with tears you refused to shed. Elrond would not see you cry, not now, not when there was a chance it could be the last-

No. You would not think that way. He would come back alive, and if he was hurt then you would stay by his side until he was healed, and then you would continue your lives as you had before - content and in friendship. 

It wasn’t how you wanted things to be with Elrond, which was why you could not breathe. What if he was one of the fallen, and you never saw him smile again, or gaze in wonder at the golden leaves of Lindon or cast a wry glance your way in a council session when somebody said something he thought was silly and knew you would be thinking it too, your eyes already seeking him out? What if you never heard him sing again, or write poems about trivial matters that seemed so important to him? What if you never got to challenge him to a duel again, laughing when your swords clashed and rang out in the clearing you always fled to, and calling him a cheat for tickling you after you pinned him to the floor?

And what if you never told him how you truly felt? That from the moment he had seen you try not to show your tears after climbing too high in a tree and falling, grazing your knee and cutting your calf, and had rushed to your aid because that was what Elrond did, you had loved him. He had been so calm, so gentle that night, the lights of others long gone out as they dwelt in near darkness while your lanterns stayed lit as you gritted your teeth and washed the cut of dirt and bark. You had barely heard him come in, his knock as quiet as your tears, but when his hands wrapped around your own and took the cloth from you, dipping it again in the bowl of water to your side, you barely startled. He had not been in Lindon long and yet already you knew him and his movements as though they were your own, and you trusted him enough to see you so vulnerable, and from the way he had looked at you that night he knew it. Your love for him was strong and true and the greatest thing you had ever felt, and for years you had passed it off as a friendship so powerful that the bond between you was unbreakable. You had friendships like that with others, so it would not have been out of the ordinary to have one more person whom you would love unconditionally until your light died, but when he had been kneeling by your side and cleaning the gash on your calf with a tenderness you had only read about, you had known it was different. 

The child beside you now dropped his stick, the movement bringing you out of your thoughts as he scrambled instead to his feet and started to push through the gathered people to make for the doorway. 

The doorway which was now opening, a messenger stepping through. You stood up, air catching in your throat and making you nearly choke on spit as you struggled to breathe again. Your hand flew to your opposite wrist, under the fabric of your sleeve and touching the chain that rested around the base of your hand - a gift from Elrond in the early hours of the morning before he had left for battle and after he had kissed you on the forehead. “To remember me by,” he had said, a sadness settling over his features that you hated. He unclasped it, gesturing for you to hold out your wrist, and when you complied he had linked the chains so carefully, fingers brushing the underside of your forearm so lightly it sent chills darting over your skin like minnows in a stream. His hold had lingered, and your breath had been held while time seemed to stretch on more than usual for your kind. 

Elrond had that effect on you, it would appear. Making you breathless was a skill of his you weren’t sure he knew he possessed, and at this current moment you wished it was a skill he had never mastered. Your throat felt tight while the messenger caught his breath, tired from sprinting from the battlefield. The fight was over for now, the question was simply who had won.

“Sauron’s forces have been pushed back, and the majority slaughtered. We have won this battle!” the elf cried, and the first wave of relief washed over you and the crowd. The second would come when you knew who was alive out of those that had been sent away that morning, and who would not return this night. 

The thundering of footsteps could just be heard over the cheers of the people gathered in the safe hold, and the first of the elven soldiers appeared in the chamber, tiredness being replaced by joy at seeing their loved ones again and embracing them with a fierceness that even Sauron could not comprehend. There were too many similar soldiers, their armour all the same and their faces all dirtied, and it was a long few minutes before you caught sight of the elf you were searching for. You were sure your face was blank and cold, and your eyebrows furrowed as you attempted to see past the hordes in front of you, but the moment a head of unruly curled hair glinted under the torchlight, clearly moving from soldier to soldier and asking if they were alright, you knew it was Elrond. He seemed to sense your gaze on him, turning his head to look over his shoulder and seek you out, finding you within seconds. He is alive. Elrond is alive. It was a mantra, playing over and over in your head as your feet numbly moved you forward while he did the same, pushing through people to reach you, and before you could truly register it you were in his arms, the coldness of your previous gaze melting and turning into warmth as you looked at him, tracing the small cuts on his face and wrapping your other arm around his waist. He was dirty, and bloodied, and shaking from the cold or from the fight or from something else entirely that you could not name, but he was alive. You squeezed his waist, pulling him closer to you, but didn’t miss the slight wince on his face as you did so. “Elrond, are you hurt?”

“I am fine, melethel. Just a scratch.”

“Do not lie to me, Elrond. Come, let’s get you cleaned up and out of your armour; it must be heavy on your shoulders.” He did not reply, only giving a tired smile in its place, and let you take him by the hand to the room you had commandeered for you both when you had arrived. There were two raised cots, not that Elrond had slept much, as he had been needed in meetings to discuss battle strategies and had, in his usual fashion, not stopped working until he was content that his plan would work. You closed the door behind you and pointed to one of the cots, not looking at him as you told him to sit. He did so in a daze, fingers picking at the leather straps that you had done up for him that morning. It was long past nightfall now, and Elrond likely had not rested since he woke up. You gathered your medicines and poured a dish of water, moving to sit on the stool that Elrond had pulled up for you and putting your supplies on the side table to help him with his armour. You worked in silence, removing piece after piece of metal until it sat on the floor in a neat pile and you had better access to his wound. Cautiously you pressed your fingers to the edge of the cut, trying to gauge how bad it was and immediately regretting it when he hissed in pain and tried to move away. You snatched your hand back, eyes snapping to his face to see it scrunched up in pain. “Elrond,” you spoke, voice quiet in the near-empty room as you placed your hand on his fist. “Elrond. It is alright. Here, help me get this off of you so I can clean it.” He softened, features settling back into a face you knew better than the wrinkled nose and squeezed-shut eyes, and smiled a little as you started tugging at his undershirts.

“You know, if you wanted me to take my clothes off you could have said it earlier.” Had you been standing you were sure your knees would have given way and caused you to hold on to something for support. He must be delirious from the wound, or the amount of time spent on his feet fighting. Elrond never said things like that: not to you, not to anyone. You forced a glare onto your face in lieu of a response, hoping he hadn’t noticed how much he had affected you with one simple sentence, and started to gently pull the fabric up. 

“Stop jesting, Elrond. I need to clean your wound. Unless you would prefer I left you here to get an infection and suffer?”

“You rather enjoy leaving me to suffer, melethel. You do it whenever we fight.”

“I always help you up off the floor after I wipe it with your backside,” you indignantly replied. You were glad he was talking - the silence had been strange. Normally you would not mind sitting in silence with Elrond, but that was when you were safe in Lindon, books in your hands and paper rustling as the pages turned, not when he had just fought a bloody battle and could have died. 

“I recall that last time we fought it was I who helped you off of the floor,” he mused, and you swatted at his arm. 

“Shush. I let you win that one. Now stop talking and help me; your limbs are gangly.” He let out a noise of disbelief at that but lifted his arms anyway, wincing when the shirt went over his head and pulled at the skin of his side. An Orc had found a gap in his armour, pushing its blade through and marking the side of his body with blood. You held your breath at the size of it, and when Elrond asked you how bad it was you answered with your eyes still on his side. “It is… it is nothing I cannot fix.” He seemed content enough with your response, nodding and leaning back on his hands to allow you more room to work. He grunted in pain when you raised the cloth to his skin and started cleaning away the blood and sweat that had stuck there, but otherwise was silent while you worked. 

Time is a strange thing for elves: your lives are so much longer than those other races of Middle-Earth and so often you do not perceive it in the same way - twenty years for some may be the blink of an eye to an elf. You could not have been cleaning and stitching his wound (he had cried out more when the needle had pierced his flesh) for more than an hour or so, and yet it had felt like an eternity. When you were finally done, his wound covered in an elvish salve to stop infection and the spread of whatever evil was in Orcish weaponry and stitched up with a fine thread that would dissolve harmlessly into his skin over time, you brought out another cloth and poured fresh water to clean his face. He was caked in dirt and blood and grime, sticking to his fair skin from all of the sweat he had created in exertion, and if you did not know Elrond like the back of your own hand then you would not have recognised him at all. 

“Let me,” he said, pushing up off of the cot and moving to where you stood by the basin. His hands covered yours, gently attempting to pull the cloth from your grasp and do the rest himself, but your grip was strong. 

“No. I have been sat around doing nothing all day and I might just explode if I do not finish looking after you.” He smiled, the barest of things as the corner of his mouth pulled upwards a little, and his eyes softened. How he could be soft after everything he had seen today amazed you. It had taken you years to stop guarding yourself after you first fought in a battle, not letting anybody see any vulnerability in case they took advantage and thought you weak. It was part of the reason you stayed behind: you had not wanted to find out what would happen if you fought again, not when Elrond had come into your life and, piece by piece, dismantled your high walls. 

“Alright, melethel. Alright.” He had always insisted on calling you that, saying that it didn’t matter that the pair of you were not courting, and who were you to refuse him when he spoke so sweetly? He settled back against the counter, letting his feet drift apart a little so you had room to stand between his legs. He closed his eyes, trusting you to take care of him, and for the first time since he had returned he looked at peace. He seemed unsure where to place his hands, hovering for a moment between your waist and the wood of the cabinet top he perched on before deciding on the latter. You worked away the dirt, revealing more clean skin with every swipe of your cloth, until eventually you were looking at the face of your friend as you remembered it. His hair still needed a wash, as did the rest of him, but Elrond was here, in front of you and more like himself than he had been since he had left in the morning. 

“I think you had more soil on your face than the grounds of Middle-Earth,” you joked, rinsing out the cloth again before bringing it up to his face to wipe the remainder of the grime away. He opened his eyes, a childish grin appearing on his face at your words. 

“Then you have done a fantastic job in removing it all.” He paused, then narrowed his eyes at you in playful suspicion. “At least I assume you have removed it all, and haven’t just smeared it all around my face?” He poked a dirty finger into your cheek, making you laugh and jerk backward to stop him spreading muck everywhere. Elrond stopped moving abruptly, catching your hand and studying a finger. “You’re bleeding.” He blinked at the dried blood on your pointer finger. “Or is that mine?”

“Oh. I had not even realised. I must have stabbed myself with the needle earlier. Really, it is nothing, Elrond.” He didn’t let go however, still looking concerned that you had hurt yourself while tending to him. 

“But if you are hurt-”

“Which one of us was brutally stabbed by an Orc blade? And nearly died?”

“I did not nearly die, melethel, you are being dramatic.”

“As are you, Elrond. I barely even noticed the prick of the needle.” He had brought your hand close to his face, and somehow your body had gone with it. The hand that held the cloth was bracing your weight next to Elrond’s hand, your fingers just touching, and your face was so close to his that you could feel the soft brush of air that he let out every time he breathed. It was so typical of Elrond to be more concerned for others when he himself was the one that needed to be worried over, and it only made you love him more. 

“If you say so,” he hummed, shifting his hold on your hand so that he could bring his lips to the tip of your finger where you had stuck yourself with the needle, pressing the smallest kiss to it. Your breath caught again, and he noticed the hitch. “Melethel? What is it, did I hurt you?” His eyes widened and he rushed to rectify the mistake he thought he had made. “I am so so sorry, I did not mean-”

“You did not hurt me, Elrond, for goodness’ sake!” You cut him off, exasperated and feeling very warm. 

“Then why-” he broke off, eyes searching your face and studying the most likely very visible flush to your features. “Oh,” he said, softer than a leaf of one of the trees of Lindon falling to the earth. You swore his pupils dilated a little, and he tilted his head back ever so slightly as realisation dawned on him. “Oh.” He let go of your hand, fingers slowly moving to your jaw to turn your face back towards his after you had looked to the side in an attempt to hide from the intensity of his gaze. 

“Elrond, what- what?” Your hand he had been holding was now on his shoulder, keeping you upright along with the arm he had somehow snaked around your waist, pulling you even closer to him. 

“Are you- do you…” he fumbled over his words, something he very rarely did, and through the haze of wondering how you had ended up in this situation, his fingers cupping your jaw while his other hand rested on your lower back and he stared into your eyes, flicking between them both to see if he could read you, you felt a swell of pride that you of all people had made Herald Elrond of Lindon speechless.

“Do I what?” you asked, as gently as you could. The hand you had rested on his shoulder was now toying with a strand of hair that curled under his ear against his neck, your other braced on his chest (which you were just now remembering was unclothed), and a small smile was on your face. You knew that he knew the truth now - how could he not? But he wanted to hear it, as did you, because the fear that he might be wrong was lingering and if he was wrong, he might hurt you, which was the last thing Elrond ever wanted to do.

“Do you feel it?” he whispered, eyes similar to that of a wolf cub you had once seen, wide and innocent, but entirely Elrond in the blown out pupils and spark of knowing that he carried. His nose was brushing yours, breath fanning over your face, and now it was your turn to tilt your head back to meet him. “Do you feel that whenever we are apart… your heart aches for the space where I should be stood? That whenever we are together I am complete because you are there and you are so bright and wonderful that you take my breath away more often than I would care to admit - do you feel that too?”

“How could I not, Elrond? How could I not feel that?” You felt the tension dissipate from his shoulders, his body sagging forwards into yours just a little, the action causing his face to come even closer to yours, angled slightly upwards from where he was an inch lower than you sat on the cabinet. 

You couldn’t breathe again, but this time it was because Elrond had pressed his lips to yours so cautiously that you thought you might melt into him. His fingers on your jaw were warm, not urging you one way or the other but just anchoring you, as he always had done from the moment you had met, letting you decide what happened next. You broke off first, resting your forehead against his and catching your breath, and he swallowed thickly, moving to place tiny kisses against your jawline and cheek, pausing only to murmur your name into your skin. Your hand buried itself in his hair, fingers tangling in the curls and knocking out the dust and dirt that had stuck there. It had long since dried of sweat, but the strands were greasy and needed washing, and that thought combined with the memory that he had a wound in his side were enough to make you pull back even further. “You should have a bath,” you said when he looked up at you with adoring but concerned eyes. He paused for a moment, frozen in place while he contemplated what you had said, and then he chuckled, the sound low in his throat. 

“Are you saying I smell, melethel?”

“Yes. Come, I’ll get a bath ready for you.”

“And if I would rather stay here?” His fingers had started lightly stroking your jaw, and with the way he was looking at you it was becoming harder and harder to leave his embrace. You managed to wrinkle your nose and step back, a strength you hadn’t known you possessed taking over and making you move. 

“I’m not kissing you again until you have bathed, Elrond.” He sighed dramatically, retracting his arms and standing up, wincing slightly and favouring his non-injured side while you started transporting water from over the fire.

“Truly? You really would leave me here?”

“If it gets you over here faster, then I shall get in with you.” You had never seen the elf move so quickly before, pulling off his boots and drawing out towels for when the bath was finished with. He hesitated with his trousers, then decided to keep them on, glancing at you to see what you were doing. You were already watching him, making a decision of your own before starting to pull at the strings holding your robes together.

“You don’t have to-”

“Oh I’m keeping my underclothes on, but I shall likely sink right to the bottom if I keep these thick robes on.” He looked relieved, and you stifled a laugh as you headed for the dresser where your clothes were kept, pulling out a pair of fresh trousers. “Here, get changed first if you’re keeping trousers on; you’ll dirty the water immediately.”

He complied, heading behind the partition in the corner of the room and re-emerging a few moments later to find you already in the bath, eyes closed in contentment at the feel of the warm water on your skin. Elrond lifted your head, pushing you forward gently so that he could clamber in behind you and settle back against the tub. You heard him grunt when his wound his the water, and turned to see his face scrunched in pain. “Are you alright?”

“I am alright. Just don’t lean on my side.” He helped you turn in the tub so that you were sideways against him, his wound kept out of the danger of being pressed down upon. 

You stayed in the bath until it got cold and your fingers wrinkled, having washed the dirt off of each other with one of the towels Elrond had brought over, and then when you got out you dried each other off and redressed in fresh clothes, hanging up the wet fabric and making for the bed, curling up next to each other, your head on his chest. Sleep came easily to you, Elrond’s body creating a warmth under you that made up for the dying fire in the cold room, and at some point your breathing matched his. 

For now, you could be content in peace. Another battle would come, the war not yet won, and Sauron’s armies would be at your doors again soon. But not yet. They would need time to gather strength again, to marshal and be ready, and so you had time too before Elrond had to leave again, and time to breathe before you would be sat waiting, and waiting, and take in air before it was stolen from you when he kissed you goodbye. 

[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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jjk taglist open: just send me a message!

@shutuppeter @mikikkoo @reactwithjan @theclassbookworm @lilactaro @bisforbuse @risararelywrites @idkidk32 @gojodickbig @stargazing-with-choso @anonymity-222

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 !!

[jymwahuwu]

Official attitudes are a problem. Players who like male characters (including female players, queer players, some male players, etc.) question the official attitude of favoring the incels of the CN community…🥹

The number of female characters and male characters in Genshin and HSR is obvious to everyone. Currently, there are 19 medium male characters, 12 tall male characters, 30 medium female characters, 18 tall female characters, and 9 short female characters in Genshin. In total, there are 31 male characters & 57 female characters. I think this already explains some problems. In the Fontaine version, the official released 8 new female 5 star characters without interruption.

After the release of Natlan's trailer, it was officially shown 7 female characters & 3 male characters. Even though there are few male characters, some players are still looking forward to it, and I am one of them. With a leaker persuading people that officials are planning to introduce more female characters and remove the number of male characters to satisfy their preference for female characters. The leaker persuades people to stop giving money to the game. This concern permeates the CN community. Players who like male characters have expressed concern and anger.

What sparked the outrage was a long-standing community dispute. The CN community is quite chaotic. During the Sumeru version, more male characters were officially released than female characters. Some extreme incels began to insult male character players, calling them "little fairies" (taunting women for thinking they are superior). There is also "women can eat together, which has led to this situation" (in some backward areas of China, it is customary for women to hide in the kitchen to eat and not eat with men. But now women in most areas do not have to do this, and they are more free. They extended to the fact that female players want the same rights as male players after they have financial strength) and so on.

They hate it when male characters show their legs and muscles and become the subject of sexual gazes, just like they do with female characters. They point out that genshin creates more "little boys", although that's just medium male characters. At the same time genshin created female child characters who were little girls. They complain that genshin is becoming a game for gay men and women. This obscene rhetoric flooded the community.

Incels attacks and anger spread to female employees at Hoyo. They believed that Emilie was a character designed by a female employee to represent herself, and called her an "old maid". They hated Emilie, and even the Fontaine versions of female characters were considered too strong and unsuitable as wives. Some People expressed positive sentiments about Emilie, but they also said it was based on the black fabric covering her breasts, which was slightly visible and looked good.

Game officials have remained silent on this. They ignored it, which was their usual attitude. But subsequent versions of the game included more content catering to heterosexual male players. For example, Nilou, who was not very familiar with the travelers in the plot. She embraced the travelers and allowed them to rest on her lap. This is a very classic anime plot. Sleeping on female knees. There are 8 new female characters officially arranged. In the version of the new country, all the characters who came to say goodbye to the players were female characters, not even Lyney, who claimed to treat the players as family. They assigned Kinich 5 stars, but did not give him more plot. Instead, all female characters and player adventure together in version 5.0. Ororon has been highlighted in leaks as being 4 star.

Incels players are calling for "we skip every time a male character is released". However, some male character players maintain a tolerant attitude, and often post "I am a female player, and I don't think there is a problem…", "I am a female player, I like more female characters", "Female characters expose their skin more is normal, such as breasts and butt. It looks good this way," and "Don't make a fuss about it." This has caused male character players in the CN community to be angry with such remarks. They believe it's this tolerance, along with their attacks on people who make demands, that lead gaming officials to ignore the needs of an entire group of people. Male character players also need to be cautious about what they say, as expressing dissatisfaction with the placement of fictional female characters can be attacked as misogynistic.

I try not to let myself read communities, but I get really bored at work sometimes so I read them. And I was distressed and angry. I felt like I was in the game as a "second gender". I don't expect the officials to get better and listen to opinions, and for the prospects, all I can say is that neither game costs me any money.

I don't want to leave and cherish my characters, they deserve better.

[lowkeyerror]

By Your Side

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Notes: Set right after Endgame, has aspects of Wandavision, sort of domestic, A lot of comfort from Wanda, I think it's a lil sweet

Summary: Y/n was the youngest member of the Avengers before the blip, she had to do a lot of growing in those 5 years. Through that experience she learned that no one deserves to be alone during hard times, which is why she offers to house Wanda.

An: 2 post... look at me go

Masterlist

It was impossible for Y/n not to fall for Wanda. It was never the girl's intention. In fact, it never crossed her mind, that was until the pair were reunited after Thanos was defeated.

Y/n was a young adult when the blip happened. A member of the Avengers, the youngest official member (sorry Peter). She was in her early twenties, to the team she was just a kid.

Before the blip, she had resented them for that rhetoric, but when half her team was wiped from existence, she felt so small. She felt like a child thrown into the deep end of a pool.

The reality of her situation forced her to grow up. The next 5 years were hard for her. She found herself isolated from the former members of the team. Mostly because Y/n did not give up being a hero.

Partially because it was the only thing she knew how to do. The other part of it was tied to the fact that the world needed heroes, more now than ever.

When Scott Lang came about and somehow was able to convince the team to get back together. It was interesting, they had all changed a lot. However, Y/n had definitely changed the most.

The experience that she had previously lacked was now present. She no longer had any question about her skill or ability. Y/n had a level of maturity that they would have never guessed lived inside of her.

Y/n was a key piece in bringing everyone back. The victory was more bitter than sweet. The losses that were suffered were tremendous.

Everyone had lost a lot, but amongst those who lost the most, Wanda's name popped into Y/n's mind.

Y/n hadn't got the chance to talk to her until Tony's funeral. Y/n stood between Wanda and Clint.

Throughout the whole thing she had stood strong with her head up; When her friends first disappeared, when she lost Nat, and when she lost Tony, but here at the funeral she felt like a child once again.

Y/n's fists were balled at her sides, and she chewed viciously on her bottom lip in hopes of not sobbing.

" You ok?" Wanda spares the girl a glance.

She doesn't speak, instead she closes her eyes and nods.

Wanda doesn't take her answer at face value, yet, she doesn't verbally challenge Y/n. Instead, she forces her hand into Y/n's balled up fists. The redhead interlocks their fingers and gently rubs Y/n's hand. The feeling makes the sob escape the girl's lips.

" Fuck, I'm sorry. I'm alright, it's just-"

Wanda shakes her head," You don't have to do that with me."

" Do what?"

Wanda turns her full attention towards Y/n," I know things haven't been easy the last 5 years, especially for you. You had to grow up before you were ready to. You've done an amazing job. But when you're with me, you don't have to be that invincible hero, you can just be Y/n."

Y/n had tears streaming down her face before Wanda finished speaking. She let her body shake as she began to let go of everything that happened to her. Wanda pulled her away to a more secluded area. She held the girl as she cried like a baby.

Y/n was taller than Wanda, so she stood awkwardly, burying her head in the red head's shoulder. Wanda's hand gently stroked the back of the girl's head.

She could sense that Y/n had been through a lot, but she wanted to know. Wanda knew pain, she was feeling it too, but the way Y/n cried made her put her hurt aside for a moment.

" I want to know what happened to you," Wanda whispers as she holds Y/n.

The hero nods against Wanda's shoulder, seemingly knowing what she's asking. When Wanda takes a peek into Y/n's mind, she feels everything the girl felt for the last 5 years.

The guilt, the uncertainty, the loneliness, the pressure, the sadness, and the pain. She felt it all, and it was astounding to her. Y/n had such a deep connection with her own feelings, it felt like the girl could drown in them.

" I've got you," she holds the girl a little tighter after digging through her memories.

Once Y/n doesn't feel like she can cry anymore, she stands up straight, and viciously wipes at her tears.

" What are- where are you going after this?"

" I'm not really sure, but-"

Y/n cuts her off," Come stay with me."

Wanda let out a sigh, "But I want to see Vision, is what I was saying."

Y/n nods," I think I can help with that."

Once the funeral was over, Y/n wasted no time driving Wanda to S.W.O.R.D headquarters. The hero was quite certain the man's body was in that building.

Wanda was anxious, it was easy to tell. Y/n understood to some extent for those who were blipped it was almost like no time passed. So to a certain extent, the last thing Wanda felt before her return was the heartbreaking loss of her other half.

When the pair arrived, Wanda basically charged in the building. She walked up to the front desk and demanded to see Vision. The man at the desk repeated something about her not having clearance, just a bunch of bullshit really.

" If you don't let her see him, I will start calling in favors from Pepper. Which is my way of saying I will forcibly make you return him, as he is technically an intellectual property that is patented by Tony Stark."

Before he could respond, his radio went off. The security looked uncertain, but gave them directions, and told them to go through the door.

Wanda didn't waste any time opening the sliding door with her powers and strutting down the hall. Y/n trailed behind her, not wishing to get in her way.

Wanda was annoyed to open the door and find the director of S.W.O.R.D, rather than Vision. He was talking, mostly to her, but she was hardly listening.

That was until he pulled back the curtain in the room. Y/n knew what it was as soon as she laid eyes on it. Her eyes widened in horror.

The horror was soon turned to anger, as he then accused Wanda of trying to bring Vision back to life.

" What the fuck is your problem?" Y/n could help herself.

" Hey, I'm just covering my bases here. It's my job and unfortunately, I cannot allow you to take $3 billion worth of vibranium just to put it in the ground. So the best I can do is to let you say goodbye to him here."

Y/n sees the sadness and desperation permeating off of Wanda, as her finger touch the glass that separate her from the parts of Vision," He's all I have."

" That's just it, Wanda. He isn't yours."

Y/n couldn't believe he would say something like that. It was taking everything in her power not to snatch him up and threaten him.

Wanda broke the glass and chaos ensued. The director stayed up in the office while Y/n jumped down to be next to Wanda. Her eyes moved around to the men with guns pointed solely on the red head.

" Tell them to put the guns down," Y/n made no room for bargaining in her tone.

The director complied, and the men lowered their weapons as Wanda approached Vision.

Her hand stretched out over his head. The sight broke Y/n's heart, but what completely shattered it was what Wanda said," I can't feel you."

Wanda walked away calmly after that. Y/n followed behind her. They left the building in silence.

Y/n got in the driver's seat with a heavy sigh. She wanted to find something to say to the redhead, but she knew didn't have the right words. No matter what said Vision wasn't coming back and Wanda wouldn't be hurting any less.

The woman in the passenger seat looked empty. The only thing Y/n could think to do was offer the woman her hand to hold.

Y/n kept her eyes on the road as Wanda stared at her hand. Eventually, Wanda's hand gently intertwined with Y/n's. The driver gave the hand a light squeeze as she took off in the direction of her home.

The drive was long and silent. Y/n didn't mind, she was drained not only from the day, but from the last 5 years of her life. It finally felt like that chapter had come to an end.

The ending wasn't perfect, it wasn't even necessarily happy, it was just over. Now she would have to somehow continue to move forward without really knowing what that means or what it looks like.

When the pair finally arrived at Y/n's, the driver was exhausted. Are slowly climbed out of the car with Wanda trailing behind her.

" I'll give you a proper tour tomorrow, if that's alright. For now all you really need to know is that, that's the bathroom, that's my room, and yours is right across. I'll get you some towels and pj's right now."

She mumbled a quiet 'thank you' and Y/n left her standing in the living room. Wanda noted that Y/n's house had a comfortable aura around it. It felt lived in and cozy.

She had pictures littering the wall, most of them featured the Avengers. It's sweet, and for a moment it made the woman sad. To think that every day Y/n would come home and see the pictures of the people she loved. Half of them wiped from existence and the other half wanting nothing to do with her.

It had to be lonely for the young hero. When Y/n re-emerged from her room with the stuff, Wanda took it graciously.

" Well I'm probably just going to go to bed, but um help yourself to literally anything you want. And don't hesitate to come get me if you need me, ok?"

" Thank you, for everything Y/n," Wanda gave the woman a sad smile.

Y/n shook her head," It's nothing really."

Wanda wanted to argue, but she didn't have the energy. She let the young woman retire to her bedroom, opting to shower and go get some rest as well.

As time moved forward, Y/n found herself struggling. Now that the missing people had returned from the blip, she found it hard to find a place to fit in.

While there was a lack of heroes in the last 5 years, a good chunk had returned to hero work the moment they were brought back. Meaning that Y/n wasn't needed as much as she was before.

This coupled with the reality that most of the people she worked with had opted to retire from crime fighting or had tragically passed on. The reality of it all was hard for her.

It seemed like 5 years ago she had to rapidly adapt to a situation she wasn't ready for, and now 5 years later the same thing was happening again.

The only thing that was different was that this time she wasn't alone. Wanda was in her corner.

At first, Y/n hated relying on Wanda. The woman had been through enough. Y/n thought that unloading her baggage onto the woman was unfair. So she tried to pretend that she was fine, that none of this bothered her in the slightest.

However, it didn't really work. Wanda had told Y/n, on a number of occasions, that her thoughts were loud. This made Y/n try to clear them before she would come home, but then Wanda counter with her mind was empty.

" Just talk to me, Y/n."

Y/n shook her head," It's nothing."

Wanda sighed," It's not nothing if it's bothering you this much."

" You have enough to think about without me dumping all my emotions on you," Y/n raised her voice.

" I would have one less thing to worry about if you would just tell me how you're feeling, so I didn't have to keep guessing."

Y/n couldn't control her outburst," Fine. I don't understand why I can't find any work. I feel so underappreciated by my peers and the citizens. For 5 years, I was one of the few ones coming to the rescue for any of these people. I was a key part in bringing these people back to their families. I pushed aside my feelings and my pain to be a hero, and as soon as I've done all of the fixing it seems like they don't need me anymore. Like I was just a substitute. I gave up so much, and I'm still willing to give more, but now that there's no Iron Man, no Black Widow, no Captain America, and no Avengers, I'm just an afterthought. And-"

Y/n could've kept going if she didn't just break down sobbing. She could've gone on forever. Wanda was quick to wrap her arms around the girl.

" Why do I still feel like I'm not good enough?"

The woman had cried for what seemed like an eternity. Wanda held her, stroking her back soothingly. Trying to provide Y/n all the comfort she could give.

The woman ended up crying herself to sleep in Wanda's arms. Wanda wiped at Y/n's tear stained cheeks with the pads of her thumbs.

She ended up laying the girl down in the bed. She stared at her former teammate for a long while.

Y/n had given up so much of herself to the hero world. She deserved better than this.

" You are good enough, detka," is the last thing Wanda says before leaving the bedroom.

While the woman sleeps, Wanda makes dinner for the two of them. As she cooked, every thought that crossed her mind revolved around Y/n. She didn't know which course of action to take to help the girl. She had to do something to get the girl out of this hole.

When dinner was nearly finished, she went to try to wake the hero up. She was surprised to see Y/n awake with her legs dangling over the edge of the bed.

She almost looked the same as when Wanda first met her. Except now there was more definition to her muscles, a straighter posture to her back, and a somber presence surrounding her.

Wanda took a seat next to her," A lot of people have this perception that being a hero is the one of the greatest things anyone can be. But I've always viewed it as the greatest sacrifice. There's so much of yourself that can be lost while trying to save others, especially when you're working alone. There's this weight on your shoulders, it's like you're carrying the world-"

" But you feel like you're the only one who knows that," Y/n's head rested in her hands.

" Something that nobody tells you until it's too late, is that you don't have to do this. You can give it up whenever you want, there's no one forcing you to pursue this."

Y/n looked at Wanda with glossy eyes," What else would I do, Wanda? This life is all I've known. I've never wanted to be anything, but this. I still want this, I just-"

" Can't do it on your own."

" I don't think I can anymore," Y/n began to tear up once more.

Wanda moved closer to Y/n. " No more tears, detka," Wanda wiped at the fallen streaks.

" Because you don't have to do it alone ever again. You have me, and I'm not going anywhere, alright. I can make some calls, and maybe we can get a team together."

Y/n looked at Wanda in disbelief," You'd do that for me?"

" Why are you always so surprised that there's someone looking out for you?" It was meant to be a joke on Wanda's part, but Y/n didn't see it that way.

" Because for a long time there wasn't."

Wanda was familiar with the look in Y/n's eyes. She'd seen it before somewhere. The way Y/n looked at her made her heart rate increase.

" Well, now and for the foreseeable future, you'll always have someone in your corner."

For a moment, there's no sound. The two just stare at each other. They both seem acutely aware of how close they are. Wanda's hand is a centimeter away from resting on top of Y/n's.

Unbeknownst to either of them, they are leaning into each other. They get closer and closer, and when they are too close, the oven goes off.

They jump apart and Wanda's hand moves to her lap, before she stands entirely," That would be dinner."

Y/n nods rapidly," I'm going to change into something more comfortable, and I'll be there in a minute."

Wanda hurriedly exited the room. Her eyebrows furrowed as she registered the pit at the bottom of her stomach. It was too soon for this in her head. She still wasn't completely over losing the love of her life. Yet she had these complicated feelings surfacing for Y/n.

The girl who had saved her life. Who brought her into her home with no questions asked or any favors needed. The girl who had been the strongest member of The Avengers. The one who never gave up on her cause.

Wanda wasn't ready, but her feelings didn't seem to care about that.

Y/n was in her room with similar thoughts swarming in her head. She had finally figured it out once she got a good look at the former hero. Y/n was falling in love, and she hadn't even noticed. Wanda brought comfort to her in situations that she never knew warranted such care.

There was nothing she could do about it. Though she wanted to stop herself from having romantic feelings towards Wanda, she was already in too deep.

" Fuck," she muttered, as she finally got out the bed and made her way to the kitchen.

Dinner between the two was uncharacteristically silent. Once they were done, they parted ways.

Y/n couldn't go back to sleep after dinner. She blamed it on the nap, but that wasn't it. She was thinking about Wanda; about how close they were to kissing.

She wondered what it would've felt like. If Wanda's lips were as soft as they looked. If they tasted sweet like her chapstick. Would things have escalated if they did kiss? Did wanting to kiss Wanda make her a bad friend?

It was pointless to stay in bed. Y/n decided she was going back to the kitchen for a drink. However, as she opened her bedroom door, Wanda was standing outside of it.

She stared at Y/n, an uncertain twinkle in her eyes. A nervous jitter about her body.

" Your thoughts are loud tonight."

The color drains from Y/n's face almost instantly, and she wishes that she could close the door more now than ever.

" Oh," was all the hero could muster up. Her eyes were trained on the floor, scared to look at Wanda

" I am so scared that if I kiss you, the universal will rip you away from me."

That causes Y/n to meet the redhead's eyes," Wanda-"

" Y/n, the things that I love- the people that I love, all end up being taken away from me. And I don't know if I can handle that happening again."

Y/n searches for the right words, but she doesn't know if she has them," I'm scared too. I'm scared that if I kiss you, it won't mean anything. I'm scared that I can't heal your broken heart. I'm scared that I wouldn't ever be enough for you because I'm not him."

The tone is somber as they stare at each other. Both having this aching want for each other. Both of them, scared of falling into their desires.

" You aren't Vision." She took a small pause. " But I would never ask you to be him. Y/n, you've already helped me heal so much and you don't even know it. You are more than for me. In fact, I think it might even be too good for me. If we kissed, it would mean everything to me."

Y/n wanted to say something. She wanted to speak from the heart, but she was coming up empty. The only thing she could think to do was press her lips to Wanda's.

The redhead's arms locked around Y/n's neck. While the hero's hands rested lightly on the dips of Wanda's hips.

For Y/n it was like she was breathing for the first time; effortless. For Wanda, it was like being brought back to life.

Wanda's lips were soft, and they were sweet like her chapstick, just like Y/n thought they would be.

" I could do that forever," Y/n chuckles against Wanda's lips.

The red shoves the hero's shoulder lightly," You're cheesy."

" I think you meant to say charming."

Wanda pecks Y/n's lips again," No, I definitely meant cheesy."

Y/n squeezes Wanda's hips," Lay with me?"

" I'd love nothing more."

The future for the pair looked dark and uncertain at one point. They each had lost so much that they were scared to claim anything as special ever again. Ultimately, they had nothing to worry about. As they had each other as constant beacons of light in their futures.

[kibor]

(I accept debates without any problems, I ask for education and respect <3).

Need to talk this here because no way i am the only person who think like this, but:

I HATE fans of the 2001 anime when they decide to talk about Seras. For me it's a kind of redflag when I see these guys want to say that the first Seras is better than the Ultimate one because she's more "serious, nihilistic (? wtf are u talking), intelligent" and reduce the 2006 one as a "whiny girl with big breasts who is disposable". I feel disgust, hate and want to murder anyone who says that, I've already written about Redpills co-opting Alucard as a "symbol of macho-man" (even though his character goes against EVERYTHING of that), these people are usally 5 options:

-Only consumed the 2001 and nothing else

-Only saw edits/scenes on the internet, thought it was cool to put Alucard's icon and made a larp about being a Hellsing fan

-Watched the 2 animes and read the manga, but only to do mediocre power scaling because when you actually ask about the story THEY DON'T KNOW HOW TO ANSWER ANYTHING, NOT EVEN THE BASICS OF THE BASICS OF HELLSING THAT YOU HAVE TO KNOW...

-Only watched the Abridged because it's based on the argument of "it's funnier and better than the original!!!" (lmao yes, a parody that has a humor that is the juice of 2010 and that only a few scenes save it - and even with those that are saved, they became EXTREMELY saturated by fans to the point that it's annoying when you go into a cosplayer's comment or Hellsing fanart and only have Abridged jokes)

-Or just an avowed Nazi (but that doesn't mean he's separate from the other options above, because I've seen a lot of these guys in what I mentioned in the 4 topics who have far-right attitudes in their veins)

and realize that it's usually straight men lmao.

But back to Seras, I cried watching Ultimate again after years and she is one of my favorite characters. I love both versions of her character (Gonzo's or Madhouse's), but the 2006 one has my heart because I identified with her a lot at certain moments. Seras was someone who only suffered in her life but continued to be strong and the sweetheart that she is. People think that someone who is not "serious, without emotions and feelings" is not someone strong and worthy of respect. Guys, the 2006 Seras adapts the Seras from the manga. In Ultimate and in the manga she constantly questions about the afterlife (becoming a vampire, since she is dead) and at first she couldn't dissociate herself from the "human" because it was something so sudden, she got a fucking shot in the chest at a time when she was almost going to be r**ed and killed, she was taken to Hellsing (without knowing anyone) and still has to deal with more deaths in front of her (whether caused by her or not). Do you really think she's mentally stable?

IMO, I think those scenes with Alucard where he tells Seras to forget that she was human are very important, because if you look at it from a post-humanist perspective, it makes a lot of sense, because it brings up the debate about "humanity" not being something good outside of common sense but rather as a colonialist and violent concept, which arises with the rhetoric of civilizing discourse against native peoples (as a Spanish-Brazilian, it's extremely sad to see the effects of colonialism, especially against indigenous peoples) . We notice this even more in the current context when we see how society deals with trans people, disabled people, racialized people, women and any social minority that does not follow the correct standard of "being human", all in defense of a human security system (which is just racism, patriarchy and all the ways to maintain the structures of violence that kill us every day). Alucard is disappointed when Seras doesn't drink the blood precisely because he wants her to be strong and finally independent, that she came out of that suffering as a human and can now have a new life (I don't like this reading of saying that Alucard was "enslaving her").

and that's why I like Seras from 2006, especially in the scene where she feeds on Pip to defeat Zorin, you see a new Seras indeed. You see our cute and charismatic blonde vamp finally accepting being more than human, accepting the change and wanting to protect those she loves in that chaos in London. Seras from the OVA has development, that's why I hate the guys who only like Seras from 2001 saying that she had "no development at all and only exists for the sake of existing".

(a bit of "A Cyborg Manifesto" by Donna Haraway vibes but in the Hellsing context)

It's one thing if you like the anime version of Gonzo better and that's fine, I understand and respect it (i love this version of her too), but saying that Seras from the OVA is a horrible, useless and undeveloped character really upsets me.

[tsukimefuku]

Kindness and sunflowers

This is part of my "Jujutsu Partners Canon Divergence AU". A sequence of short stories and random drabbles for a fic I'll eventually write (eventually). To see the ever-growing list of one-shots, please visit my masterlist :) 

Disclaimer: they’re NOT written and posted in chronological order of events. To see where this story fits in the timeline, please check the masterlist mentioned above.

Tags: f!reader, soft/implied Higuruma x reader, drinking, fluff, hurt, and comfort.

WC: 1.4k

"Hey, I think he's not doing very well." You said to the other sorcerers, while you were all sitting at the bar. Higuruma had his face plastered on the counter, and one of his hands covered a beer mug. He was mumbling unintelligibly.

This was his first time out of Jujutsu High's headquarters ever since they detained him. After saving your ass when you were on a mission, Higuruma — a curse user that was being hunted by Jujutsu High — was granted mercy under some conditions. If he proved himself as a worthy jujutsu sorcerer in their service, his suspended execution would be extinguished. You asked Gojo, as a favor from your friend, to try saving the guy (after all, he saved you first). Gojo agreed, but warned you'd be responsible for accompanying him in this "parole" period. Deal, you answered, and here you all were a month later.

The guy was smart (and a smart mouth), even with his kind of nihilistic demeanor sometimes. Working with him was very different from working with Nanami the months prior. Higuruma was an absolute beast in the field, and took many more risks than your previous mission partner. On one occasion, you had to take the poisonous hit from a curse to protect him, simply because he made no effort to dodge. You knew full well you could recover using your own RCT, but man, it was a nasty recovery period. He apologized at the time for his irresponsibility, and his empty sardonic facade seemed to get a little chipped away since then. At least for you.

"He seems fine to me." Nanami sipped on his own drink nonchalantly, as he raised one eyebrow while looking at the man. His contempt was hidden under the perfect monotone he had to his voice — Nanami was still furious at Higuruma due to the poisoning debacle that left you bedridden for an entire week.

You looked at him, somewhat irritated.

"Really? Does he, Nanami?" You asked rhetorically, pointing dramatically to face-plastered-on-the-counter Higuruma.

He sighed, putting his drink glass back on the counter. "I apologize, that was uncalled-for." Nanami said. "Yes, he should be taken somewhere else to sober up and sleep properly."

"Hey, lawyer man." Shoko poked Higuruma's arm, and he barely moved. "Yeah, he's out."

"This is it, I'm getting him home." You sighed. "I mean, now he's allowed to go out the headquarters, he might go home, right?"

Gojo shrugged, laughing, as he took many pictures of passed out Higuruma on his phone from different angles. "I didn't ask. They just said he could leave headquarters."

"You didn't ask?" You said, stunned.

He put his phone away in his pocket, clearly amused. "Well, when this happened to one of my students, he wasn't bound to be in headquarters all the time. So I think it's safe to say the man is free to go, as long as he comes back."

You facepalmed. Getting money from your wallet, you gave your and Higuruma's part to Gojo, the only person sober in the whole entourage. "Here, this should cover for us. I'm calling a cab."

He smiled as he said good luck.

***

After fumbling through Higuruma's wallet and questioning him relentlessly, piecing together everything the drunk man could tell, you finally got to drag him to his apartment, where he used to live when he was still a lawyer. There was just one thing you hadn't accounted for — neither of you had the key. You were cursing yourself and him under your breath as you conjured up a tiny grenade with your innate technique, just strong enough to bust open his door without causing collateral damage. He was leaning against the wall, sitting on the ground, and seemed to be snoring. May the neighbors not hear this. It was late enough to be almost early.

The controlled explosion was loud enough to startle him awake, but didn't seem to attract any attention from the other apartments. You threw Higuruma's arm over your shoulders and lifted him up, while you opened the door and carried him inside. Miraculously, when you flipped the lights on, it actually worked. You put him on the couch as you used one of the chairs around the place to hold the door closed.

"You're kind, did you know that?" Higuruma said, while he was a tad bit more sober now than when you both left the bar. He threw himself over the couch, extending his arms on the cushions and leaning his head back to look at the ceiling. "The world is not a great place for kind people."

"You don't say." You replied, smiling, while you looked around the apartment. Somehow, it was exactly what you expected his place to look like. A little messy, with lots of books lying around the house, and even if the place had no big decor or anything like that, it still felt warm. You saw a sunflower withered by the window, and you noticed he looked at it at the same time, grunting in complaint.

Higuruma leaned forward to remove his shoes, but was having a hard time pulling his shoestrings. You sighed as you said, "here, let me help you." You got on your knees and undid both of his shoes, taking them off. 

Higuruma took you by surprise, as he directed his hands to hold your face delicately and lift your gaze. He looked at you, your faces inches apart, as you could still smell the beer from him. His eyes were soft, something you hadn't seen yet. You felt your heart skip a beat as he was holding you like that. "Thank you."

You gulped and blinked a few times, as you removed his hands from your face and got up. "It's just shoes." You turned to walk away into the kitchen and see if you could grab him a glass of water, but he held your hand, still seated on the couch, looking down.

"No. I mean... Thank you." Higuruma said softly. "Thank you for defending me." He sighed deeply. "It's usually the other way around."

"Oh." You turned to look at him. A soft smile took over your face. "You saved me that day. I wouldn't forgive myself if I didn't at least try to return the favor."

He pulled you and had you landing beside him on the sofa. It startled you, as you felt your face warm and blushing. He was still holding your hand, making circles with his thumb over your hand's back, and spoke, nearly whispering, "You're too kind." He closed his eyes, and for your surprise, he leaned over and rested his face on your shoulder in a cat-like demeanor. Your body quivered as you felt his slow breath pressed against your skin, and you both stayed completely still for a while.

"Higuruma?" You asked, hearing in response a soft snore. Oh, he's out. Sliding him very carefully out of your shoulder and onto the couch, you got up. Time to go.

After taking a last look at the withered sunflower that was beside his window you sighed, looking at your wristwatch and feeling you could still wait a few hours. There was something you to do first.

***

Higuruma's head made him a thousand promises of regret as he tried to remember how exactly he got home. The sun was high outside, and it was probably noon already. After getting completely hammered at the bar, he had only a few flashbacks. Getting poked, an insistent camera flash on his face, everyone's voices, his sunflower dead by the window.

You.

He sat up on the couch hastily, feeling instantly dizzy as he put his hands on his head. "Where is she?" He looked around, and the apartment seemed empty. I hope I didn't make a complete fool out of myself yesterday, Higuruma thought to himself, as he got up, careful not to get the drunken vertigo.

Higuruma remembered the sunflower again, and grunted, displeased. He had bought it in an attempt to decorate his apartment, at least a little, and make it feel more like a home. The former lawyer found the idea of him taking care of a sunflower kind of funny and surely ironic. After everything that had happened, he was away from his apartment for nearly two months by this point. "Good thing I never had any food in here." He said to himself, walking towards the window.

He stopped as he saw a brand-new sunflower in a vase, right where the other one previously was. Higuruma smiled, amused with himself, and traced his messy hair with his fingers, wondering how he would thank you for that.

"Yeah. Too kind."

[kyo-kris]

Shigaraki Tomura x FTM Reader HEADCANONS

❥ Telling him that you're trans

Fluffy Headcanons.

Pronouns for reader: he/him

♡ You and him were having a chemistry, even if both never would dare to talk about this, and no one from L.o.V (except for Toga. Im sure she would shipp you and Tomura)

♡ Well, but when you noticed that you were liking him, you got nervous. So. Fucking. Nervous. You didn't know that they had a trans member in L.o.V and you were afraid of being just rejected or humiliated because of your gender.

♡ Well, you decided one night to open up to Twice about your gender, you were fucking SHAKING. Ending up discovering the trans member and that nobody gives a damn for what you identify yourself, as long as you are strong and help them, you will be respected.

➥ (If you don't like Twice, just imagine another member or you discovering by yourself that information) (pls who doesn't like him...)

♡ This information just relaxed you so much, and you just felt safe to talk about it to Shigaraki. But now how would you do it was the problem. He was always busy with his plans.

♡ But one day, you found your chance. Only him in living room, the others were outside doing different things. Doesn't matters. You took the advantage and courage (of course the courage of a few months thinking about this).

♡ You wasn't totally surprise because you knew about the member, but you hadn't seem any expression so genuinely like this. People tries to support or show that they support you, or they treat you differently (most time in a bad way). But this pookie? Nah. He was just "ok, and?"

♡ "W-what do you mean with 'ok, and?', you already knew it??" you asked with wide eyes, but at the same time you were so greatful for him not turn this a headache.

♡ "No? I mean, good for you, I'll keep calling you the same way as I always did." He said, same expression as if you just told him that you were going to sleep or something like that.

♡ "Thanks. I always feel like if I don't tell, the person will be mad or feel trapped. It happens more than I wish"

♡ "Trapped? What the fuck. Why would I?" You didn't know if was a rhetorical question or you had to answer it, but you just let a light laugh come out.

♡ "Is that all the reason you wanted to tell me you are trans?" He seemed to notice your nervous face.

♡ "Do you... Do you wanna go out with me sometime?" You felt your cheek burning like a fire "y-you don't have to accept, I was just wondering maybe we.. Uhm could-"

♡ "Yes" He coldly (or softly. You were too nervous to notice) said, turning his head away from your look.

♡ "What?" You heard it right?

♡ "Don't make me repeat myself" You thought maybe he was annoyed or impatient, but it wasn't, he was blushing as hell. And when you noticed, you made your way to tease

♡ "Whoa you're so red. Are you running a fever?" You tried your best to hold back your laugh

♡ "Im changing my mind!" His voice was slightly shaking, and you also noticed that, but decided to keep to yourself. It was just so cute seeing him like this!

♥︎ You could see a short smile on his face. Maybe you didn't need to be nervous at all. Everything went right.

Notes from Kyo ♡: Hello again! Well, my "I wanna feel safe and loved" is here, isn't? Two fluffy posts and the same character XD. Now you can suggest anything on my blog, can be anonymous too, feel free.

Here a list about what I do and what I don't:

[lemurballing]

okay so i really wanted to do this in Prim and Proper Essay Form with demonstration drawings and stuff but if i wait for that its never going out so screw it.

tangle design evolution/changes post with whatever tangle pics i can grab and edit on my phone

i am aware many of these changes can be attributed to art style; i’m not questioning that these are all tangle, but i find joy in dissecting the little things and how many parts of tangle’s design are drawn with so much variance

What’s the difference anyway? That’s just five normal pictures of Tangle in that above edit, right?

That’s rhetorical - they are, and they’re subtly (or not-so-subtly) different in interesting ways. So I’m going to note the five features I find vary the most, and are most critical to Tangle’s design (in order of significance):

Eye shape - Hair style - Face mask & muzzle - Ear shape - Tail

I would also maintain the stance that while every character differs somewhat between art styles, Tangle varies most often across IDW, and with larger changes between one depiction and another. Additionally, I didn’t notice many (if any) other examples of characters whose base eye shape changes between depictions like Tangle’s does!

(this got long, see under the cut)

So… what’s with Tangle’s eyes? Contrast these 3 images:

Tangle’s model sheet, on which her eyes have only one corner (the inner corner) and the outside of the eye is an oval/rounded shape - a panel from issue 71, in which Tangle’s eye has 2 prominent corners (inner corner and upper outer corner; plus the harsher join between her lower outer corner and muzzle) - and a panel from issue 37, in which we have the inner corner and rounded eyes again, but the lower outer corner joins the muzzle also.

Each of these are enough to change the expressions you can make with that same eye shape - the eye type depicted in the #37 panel is most versatile for squinting/wide eyes/smushing around the eyebrows for expressions, while the other two are distinctly more ‘pretty’ eye shapes, similar to the eye shapes used for characters like Blaze or Rouge. They also give you a pretty strong impression of Tangle’s demeanor and character; the ‘pretty’ eye shapes can make her look more focused, while the rounded ‘corner-anchored’ eye type makes her look more open and friendly.

(I personally appreciate Tangle’s design as a juxtaposition between ‘pretty face’ and ‘gremlin energy’ - and intentionally drawing her eyes off-model for funny expressions such as the ones below, even if her eye shape is by default the ‘pretty’ one, is a tactic I’m a fan of.)

Next on the discussion block: hair style!

There are two main categories I find art of Tangle to fall into: ‘mohawk’ and ‘poff’.

Three examples (one of which is my own art) of the ‘mohawk’ category:

You can see the general hairstyle starts between her ears or behind them and flows forwards in more or less individual tufts; this is based on her model sheet, which I’ve embedded enough in this post already.

Examples of the ‘poff’ hairstyle:

Her hair is either all rooted ahead of the ears, or has a distinctly larger mass of hair in front of them that overshadows the smaller tufts behind it.

Sometimes she’s drawn in a way that toes the line between either hairstyle, which builds more uncertainty as to which hairstyle she’s supposed to have. I’m not even sure if this ‘poff’ hairstyle is a change one artist did for their own style that others jumped on, or a misunderstanding that got carried on and kept up?

While not quite as expressive or important to characterization, the hairstyle does somewhat indicate Tangle’s personality; the ‘mohawk’ does a similar thing as the ‘pretty eyes’, adding sharp angles and a ‘focused’ impression, while the poff is fluffier and friendlier.

And now we’re onto: face mask and muzzle! I’ve grouped them together since they’re in a similar spot on her face, but each one can change independently of the other.

In most of her official depictions, Tangle has a very short and almost flat muzzle shape:

Whereas other depictions (and a good few of my own) lengthen her muzzle and give it a point:

I’ll touch on this a little more in the segment for ears, but as far as real animal accuracy, the longer and pointier muzzle reflects ringtailed lemurs better. They actually have a prominent snout more similar to a canine, rather than flat faces like other primates people commonly know about; chimpanzees, gorillas, the monkey from night at the museum, etc.

While accuracy to real life animals is already vague at best in the Sonic series, Tangle’s muzzle being depicted as extra short implies to me a misunderstanding between ringtailed lemurs as ‘sort of a monkey, right?’ versus what they actually look like. A flatter muzzle can make humanlike expressions easier, and similarly to the ‘poff’ hairstyle makes her more friendly and harmless-looking - but it does lose something compared to the more lemurlike pointed muzzle. And plenty of neat expressions are possible with a more pointed muzzle, so it’s not like it sacrifices Tangle’s expressiveness to use it, even ignoring going off-model for an expression.

The other detail to note is her facial marking; while it is always a 'bump' shape between her eyes, the height of the marking can differ, sometimes higher than halfway up between her eyes, and occasionally only a third of the way up. I do want to point out a neat thing about some panels her facial marking is drawn in, and how it lines up with her muzzle shape - when I sketch Tangle, I often place her facial features by drawing this kinda triangular shape first, and then her nose and other features.

Next is ear shape! There’s only two distinct shapes used in canon art, but I’ll also showcase a third style I draw:

First is the rounded ear type, a panel from issue 47 - a pointed ear type from issue 71 - and a fuzzy ear type (pointed backwards) in my fanart. While the lack of fuzz in official art I understand (since no other characters such as Tails or Blaze have fuzzy ears either), I don’t understand the roundness! Every picture I’ve seen of ringtailed lemur ears look pretty pointy, so I vastly prefer the issue 71 take on her ears - they’re also easier to point around for expressions. The rounder ears simply play into the (imo) excessively rounded shapes used for Tangle across some issues.

Last topic - Tangle's tail! While this is the most consistent feature, certain artists' styles will depict it at different thicknesses, which I find an interesting change, as it does create a different impression of what Tangle's tail is capable of.

The thicker tail shapes place emphasis on the strength of Tangle's tail, as well as being more striking on the page since it takes up more room, like writing with sharpie vs ballpoint pen. The thinner tail shapes imply some normality - that the only weird thing about Tangle's tail is its ability to stretch and extend. (I do consider these separate aspects of Tangle's powers - I could even do a whole second essay on Tangle's tail's abilities, after the first one!)

Additionally, the thicker tail is more plausible for special poses, such as Tangle propping herself up with just her tail, compared to an average-length tail that would have to coil an extra 2x or 3x to get the same height, which just seems inconvenient…

If you read this whole thing, thank you! :D

I definitely haven’t exhausted my reserve of items to talk about, about character design and Tangle both, so feel free to add on if you have something new or a question <3

[shanksbaby]

Aokiji-Kuzan- Betrayal (2)

pt 1 - after i watched the trailer of the new episode i got the motivation

after Kuzan, your old mentor, has appeared again from the hole that Garp had created, you stop and look at him motionless, noticing the scratches and traces of dirt on his clothes…The long hat mustv lost him in the hole…Despite how he looks, you still find him handsome…Immediately, however, you scold yourself for thinking about this during a rescue mission.

but the truth is that you can't see him as an enemy -- not after all those moments together, after he helped you, after all those moments that made you fall in love with him. His deep voice, however, interrupts these spiraling thoughts of yours.

“Y\N. You're here, too, I see,” he says in a detached voice, and you have to admit that you feel a pang in your chest; you're not used to this tone of his; as much as Kuzan was always an aloof type he always had that warm tone when he spoke to his subordinates, when he spoke to you.

“Kuzan-san please come back to us…Come back to the Navy, this is not your post,” you repeat yourself again trying to ignore his detached tone.

Blackbeard's Pirates meanwhile surround you, grins on their faces and swords and other weapons in their hands ready to pounce on you, and probably do more than just kill you.

“As I was telling Garp-san, I'm afraid I can't do that” he replies and then slowly approaches you ‘You're in my way’ and without giving you time to respond he throws ice crystals at you, about a dozen or so.

you try to dodge them and succeed fortunately, thanks to the speed of your sprint, however soon after you get a strong kick to the abdomen that literally sends you flying twenty meters from where the battle between the marines and the pirates is taking place.

in spite of the pain caused by the kick you get up though with difficulty, and you look up resting your gaze on the figure of your old mentor who looks at you sternly “This is not a playground, you shouldn't stay here…You are too weak”

that comment pissed you off: too weak? you trained day and night with koby and the others…and now he tells you that you are too weak? As if he could say that since he wasn't there. "I can assure you, I've improved" you say and then, thanks to your devil fruit that gives you the powers of air, you launch a wave of strong wind that hits him directly, sending him a few meters forward. You create a ball of concentrated wind and throw it at him, but he manages to avoid it.

This time he throws an ice sphere at you, just like Garp, trying to freeze you, but you avoid it and try to distance yourself because you know Kuzan's strength, you know that he has a terrifying physical strength, and you know that you would lose in a 1vs1 fight

you throw waves of wind at him: some manage to hit him, but Kuzan seems to only get a few scratches and dives at you. You try to quickly move away using your devil fruit power, managing to create distance, and in the meantime try to hit him.

but this turns out to be useless: suddenly he reaches you, first hitting you with a punch on the back of the neck, sending you flying for a few hundred meters.

"As I told you, you're too weak Y\N…You never had any hope, neither you nor the others here" he says approaching you calmly, his gaze never leaving your painful face "Why did you come?" he asks rhetorically

"Because I wanted to save Koby-kun and because…" you mutter, struggling to get up, "because I wanted to see you, I wanted you to return to the Navy. We miss you, Kuzan-san. You don't belong with people like Teach," you say with determination: after all, he was the most beloved of the admirals, all the soldiers love him.

"And what makes you think you know me? Are you so arrogant? You were just my subordinate"

another pang to the chest but you continue anyway, ignoring Kuzan's rhetorical questions "Come to the Sword, we can modify the marines from the inside, with you in the ranks more marines will join".

your old mentor sighs, and shakes his head, moving even closer "Oh, Y\N. you are too naive" and now that you see him close you can notice in his eyes a veil of sadness and regret, as if what he was about to do saddens him, you don't understand what until you feel his arms tighten around you and his voice murmur an I'm sorry.

and so in less than a few seconds you are frozen, not having had the time to confess your feelings for him..A wave of regret floods you too.

taglist: @stellasloth @peterdabestasseater

[wearethekat]

February Book Reviews: Where the Axe Is Buried by Ray Nayler

I received a free copy of the book from Farrar, Straus, and Giroux in exchange for a fair review. Publish date April 1st.

I requested this book since I enjoyed Nayler's previous novel, The Mountain in the Sea. In Where the Axe Is Buried, the world is split between a Federation ruled by an immortal series of cloned presidents, and nations governed by AI. Programmer Lilia's new invention sets in motion a series of events, from an assassination attempt on the President to the recruitment of an elderly revolutionary living in the taiga, which will change the world irrevocably.

Where the Axe Is Buried is a much more explicitly political book than The Mountsin in the Sea. It's structured in much the same way, with multiple interlinked but separate POV characters interspersed by excerpts from a fictional book, revolutionary Zoya's banned text. Here, the central metaphor is the creosote bush rather than the octopus. The creosote bush forms a system of genetically identical cloned plants, following the root systems of long dead Ice Age trees. Like a flawed governing system, removing the piece of the creosote will not change the shape of the overall plant, dictated by patterns laid down centuries ago. We get the anecdote as a piece of Zoya's book on the very first page, and it recurs as different metaphors--a fungal system, a steppe tsar--throughout the book.

It's always a bit tricky to write a book about revolution. Nayler's a very good writer, and he easily dodges the trap that so many books about war and revolution fall into (ie, mouthing empty platitudes about change as the authors demonstrate that they haven't thought deeply about a complex and loaded subject). Nayler's elegantly constructed near future dystopia is split between an authoritarian future Russian regime and countries ruled by supposedly infallible AIs in a very post LLM way. On the one hand, the Federation has developed refinements that the Soviets or even Orwell never dreamed of, in a panopticon where a tiny mistake could collapse your social score and send you plummeting into a shrinking circle of restricted parole, and then to a forced labor camp and death. Or, alternatively, in the rationalized states ruled by AI, you can work in an horrifically optimized Amazon-style warehouse while your every movement is scrutinized by companies trying to sell you things, to the degree that looking at a soda half a world away for a moment with your face covered can identify you.

Whether Nayler threads the other needle and manage to not say something about revolution which the reader has a strong personal disagreement with is, inevitably, more individual. It held together well enough to be a five star read for me, even if I'd quibble with a few points. Although I do think the open ended conclusion carries a lot of the rhetorical weight here. Nayler gracefully presents you with a possibility for change, rather than attempting to answer the unanswerable question.

An ambitious and sophisticated dystopia about revolution with a compulsively readable pacing. Highly recommended, especially if you liked Nayler's The Mountain in the Sea.