#and i get that they do this to avoid players feeling harassed but I personally liked characters flirting with you first

[tuxedo-rabbit]

Hmmm...

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.9 words you've been wanting to hear

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot, marijuana use, sexism, sexual harassment (verbal only)

ᰔ chapter. 9/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 15.6k (WHY DO THEY KEEP GETTING LONGER)

a/n. HELLO MY DEAR KICKOFF READERS IVE MISSED YOU ALL SO MUCH i am soooo sorry for the wait on this one. this chapter felt very vulnerable to write for some reason lmfao, but i really hope it was worth the wait :''') see you at the bottom!! if there are typos or some things don't make sense i'm so sorry i literally gave up on proofreading this i just ended up raw-doggin it and then posting it

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

an additional author's note. hellooo ellie here. there are some additional warnings/tags for this chapter, i added them to the tags above, so if you know you have any sort of triggers, please refer to them before reading! but if you don't have any and don't want to be spoiled ab anything then you can keep reading lol. thank youu <33

--

The restaurant address that Kai sent you was just a ten minute taxi ride away, save for the five minutes you spent trying to evasively maneuver through the hotel lobby in order to avoid running into people you’re not too keen on seeing right now, a list that stacks up to just one person at this moment.

It’s a Korean barbecue place, it’s been ages since you’ve been to one, probably since they’re way too expensive for any sort of outing you could afford these days, but the crisp sizzling sounds of the grills and the savory air has your mouth watering in a way that makes you indifferent to the cost. Anything to get this churning feeling out of your stomach. 

It’s instantly brought to your attention that Hana’s tipsy off of Soju because she’s slid out of the booth the second you emerge to the tablestide, and she’s onto her feet to pull you into a hug. You hug her back.

“I’m ssssoooooooo glad you’re—hic—here,” she says, voice sounding loud near your ear, but her embrace is surprisingly calming to you.

Her face appears flushed when you pull away, and you give her a smile and a kind hold of her elbow. “I’m happy to be here, sorry for coming late, I just decided I wanted to have dinner with you all.”

Minato is pulling on Hana’s arm to get her to sit down, which she finally agrees to, and you glance to the left side of the table where Kai sat, meticulously turning over pieces of meat on the grill. His eyes are on you, and the seat next to him is empty.

“You look nice,” he says, eyes falling to your lap under the table once you’ve taken a seat next to him.

Your eyes fall to your lap as well. “Oh. Thanks. I wasn’t really trying to look any sort of way, though.” Just faded jeans with a few rips & holes you made yourself, way back in high school when that sort of thing was trendy.

“I know,” he says, smirk heard perfectly through his words, “I like that.”

You ignore him, a fleeting thought passing through your head of how annoyingly forward men are to women they’ve met within a day, just something you’ve noticed recently, and then you’re accepting the glass of Soju that Minato’s poured for you. Quick to tip it back, you feel a burn on your tongue that’s just enough to distract.

“Today’s game was pretty interesting,” Minato speaks up, picking up a few pieces off the grill with his chop sticks and placing them on Hana’s plate first before taking some for himself. You find the gesture sweet. “The first half was intense.”

Hana nods enthusiastically, elbows rested on the tabletop as she waves her hands around in the air. “Uh huh, uh huh, the boys kicked the ball like whoosh. Goes all over the place! Can’t get a—hic—can’t get a single shot. No, I mean me, I can’t get a camera shot. Not them, they can get the shots of goals. The goals of shots? Huh.”

“Alright, you’ve had enough,” Minato grumbles as he drags the glass of Soju that she was nursing away from her. 

Kai lets out a laugh beside you, his knee bumping against yours under the table. “I’ve watched so many of these soccer games for this job, and I’ve still got no damn clue what the rules are.”

You blink down at your empty plate for a second before grabbing the silver chopsticks laid neatly on your napkin, and taking some food from the center of the table. “Really? I’ve only been to a couple, and I feel like I get the gist of it.” Maybe it’s because you had a personal interest, though.

Kai lets out a low whistle next to you. “Okay, you’re a smartass then.”

You give him a sidewards glance. “Maybe you’re just dumb?” 

Your own words startle you a bit. Minato lets a laugh out, but under his breath, while Hana does absolutely nothing to conceal hers. Kai’s eyes just widen. You bite down on a carrot stick.

“Hey, hey, hey, y/n,” Hana chirps, tapping at your wrist, “do you know any of the soccer players? Utahime said you doooo.”

You swallow slowly to buy yourself time, but give a preliminary shake of your head before answering, “no, not really.” You catch a whiff of the cologne on your wrist when you lift your glass to your lips.

“Oh,” she sulks her shoulders and then sinks down into the booth again, her head falling onto Minato’s shoulder. The man stiffens a bit and then there’s a content smile playing at his lips. A hint of a smile develops on your face too at the sight when you put two and two together. What an adorable little crush. It makes you feel sick.

Kai pours you some more Soju the second you drink down the last of it in your glass, and you nod to him as a thanks. “Pretty sure most of my photos from the first half are fucked,” he says, dragging the opening of the bottle against the rim of your glass before pulling it away, “didn’t realize until way later that my aperture was way off.”

You bring the glass to your lips, inhaling before taking a sip. You’re about to speak up about that when Minato beats you to it.

“Are you serious?” he asks, disappointed, like they’re suddenly talking business now. “I better see some good shots. Your side was where most of the action took place. Like that through-pass, tight behind the defensive line, from Nanami Kento to Gojo Satoru before he sunk it a couple mins before the half ended.”

You choke a little on your Soju at the mention of Gojo’s name, and then all three of them are looking at you. You wave a hand in front of your face. “Sorry.” 

Kai grumbles something under his breath and then stuffs a piece of pork belly into his mouth. “Yeah, whatever, man. I’m pretty sure I got some good ones. Don’t worry.”

Dinner goes on like that, where you count the number of times Kai thinks that someone saying something funny across the table is an excuse to press his thigh against yours, but at least the cute way that Hana and Minato seem to inch closer to one another all night is enough to put you at some sort of bitter ease. But that unsettling feeling in your stomach from a couple of hours ago still lingers.

The four of you stand outside the restaurant, heels rocking back and forth in the cold as you all take up the last chance to debrief the day, and then Minato’s glancing at his watch.

“Alright, it’s probably time to head back. We can all share a ride to the hotel, it’s cheaper that way,” Minato says. Hana’s clinging to his sleeve.

“Oh, uh, I was going to stay here. There’s a cool camera shop around the corner. I was gonna check it out,” Kai says, pointing over his shoulder before glancing at you. “Wanna come? I saw they’ve got used film cameras.”

You twiddle with the hotel key card in your pocket. It’s cheap plastic, could break easily with just the right amount of pressure. Like your resolve right now. “Sure.”

He smiles at you.

“Alright, well I need to get this one back to her room,” Minato says with a sigh, pointing to Hana, “so I’ll see you all at the next game?”

You and Kai nod at him and then watch as he walks away with Hana on his arm towards the curb, pulling his phone out to call for a ride.

“Where’s this camera shop at?” you ask Kai once the silence between the two of you stretches out a little too long. 

“It really is just around the corner,” he says, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket. He starts walking down the row of miscellaneous shops and establishments under dim street lighting, and you follow after him before the two of you circle to the adjacent end. A tiny shop in the distance catches your eye. The LED sign above the storefront was blinking sporadically, and read 17th St Camera & Rentals, except half the letters were extinct of any light. Next to it was a 24/7 liquor store.

It’s only when you walk right up to it that you realize the sign dangling behind the glass door that says closed.

“Oh. Bummer,” Kai comments in a flat tone. “I swear it was open before I got to the restaurant.”

You sigh, pulling your phone out to glance at the time. “Yeah, at 8pm? It’s past 10 now.”

He looks at you and taps the camera case still hung at his neck. “That’s fine. I’ve still got a camera to show you, anyways.”

You blink your eyes at him, suddenly feeling a bit exhausted and then glance over your shoulder at the curb of the street to see if Minato & Hana were still there waiting for a ride. You don’t see them anymore. 

A distraction. Wasn’t that what you wanted?

“Yeah, show me.”

Kai seems to know the area better than you, since he walks down the haphazardly lain sheets of concrete across the ground with more confidence than a tourist would. The thought occurs to you that maybe the newsletter photographers have eaten here before during their time in Kyoto.

“What made you start working with the newsletter?” you ask, glancing at him as the two of you walk down further, into what seems like a neighborhood.

He shrugs. “First job I could find out of college. I had a lot of freelance experience, so I’m assuming that’s why they hired me.” He nudges your arm with his elbow. “What about you?”

“I’ve known Utahime for a while. She was impressed with my work.”

“Ahh, connections,” he muses, “smart. That’ll get you far as an artist.”

He suddenly stops walking and peers off to the right, into a darkness that you can’t really make anything out of until you’ve spent a few seconds staring too. He walks in that direction, the loud echoing stomps of his boots on concrete no longer audible once he crosses the threshold onto grass, and you follow behind to what seems like a deserted children’s park. You wish there were more trees in the city. There are a lot here in the countryside, and it makes you homesick for something you’re not even sure of.

A gust of wind brushes through, rattling the set of swings hung on rusty chains. The wood chips underneath your feet feel stale, with no snap to them at all as you follow Kai through the playhouses set up in connected fashion. There are two picnic benches, one looks like it’s been freshly painted with faux effort to improve its image in the line of sight of the street, while the other has red paint peeled back to reveal bronze underneath the moonlight, neglected and tucked behind a few trees. The latter is what he chooses.

He slides into the bench, and he shakes his head when he sees you try to take a seat on the other side before patting at the seat beside him. “It’d be easier for you to take a look at my side.”

He has a point, so you sit next to him instead. Although at this point in the night, you were feigning interest. He zips his camera bag open and you take a better look at the lens. There’s no way it was as cheap as he told you it was.

“There’s no way this was as cheap as you told me it was,” you say.

He laughs, pulling the camera out and handing it to you. “Yeah, maybe the guy cut me a deal since I’ve bought from him before.”

You’re smart enough to put the strap around your neck, even though you’re only holding it a few inches above the table, because a camera like this deserves the care and respect. The material is minimalist and sleek, and it’s heavy in your hands. You click the shutter button, screen coming to life with a few mechanic chirps. “Woah. Is it LCD or OLED?”

“LCD.”

“That’s nice,” you say, “paying for the OLED just seems silly to me.”

“I concur, Canon. Color accuracy is king.”

He shuffles to pull something out of his pocket while you continue to inspect the camera in your hands, and you see him fidget with said thing over the table in the corner of your eye. The flick of something and the light of something makes you turn your head to face him, and he’s pinching the end of a joint to his mouth, lighting the other end.

He gives you a glance when you stare for too long, inhaling from it before pulling it from his mouth. “What?” You can see the smoke leave his mouth in the chill of the air.

“Is that why you chose the secluded bench?”

“I did? Didn’t even notice.”

You blink at him, and he places his elbow on the table to lean closer to you. 

“Do you mind it?” he asks.

“No, not really.”

“Wanna smoke with me?” Two fingers pinching the origin of smoke tilt towards you. “This is my good weed, though, so, I charge by the drag.”

“That’s ridiculous, and no thanks. It doesn’t suit me.”

He lets out a laugh, releasing whatever tension he was building in your space, and the smell of weed is nauseating, but at least it's a new sensation to you.

“You’ve gotta be the only film major on the planet that doesn’t smoke weed. How do you manage?” he asks, the orange flicker of his joint being the only color you can distinctly see under the similarly flickering street lights. 

Your finger traces the rim of the camera lens and is careful to not smudge the glass. “I think I manage just fine.”

“Yeah. With delusion,” he says, coughing, scattering smoke into the air this time instead of a clean blow.

You turn a bit in your seat to face him more, placing the camera down. “You’re extremely blunt.”

His eyebrow raises in amusement and you close your eyes with annoyance at the pun. You brush it off.

“I mean, seriously, I get you’re probably just looking out for me, I guess. I appreciate that. But do you really think my dreams of becoming a filmmaker are that far-fetched?” you ask. There’s a crack to your voice at the end that you didn’t like.

He sighs, setting his wrist down on the table. There’s a long pause where he thinks about what to say. Probably the most you’ve seen him consider what words leave his mouth next. “I was in the same shoes as you, y/n. A couple years ago. I, too, had big dreams of making movies. I was going to apply to film grad school as well, although you’re shooting higher than I was at the time. There’s no way I would’ve gotten into UTokyo’s.” He tilts his head to the side a few times while looking straight off ahead. “I sent scripts in everywhere. To every fucking production company, creative agency, you name it. Never got a callback, not even once. While all my fellow grads were landing decent, respectable jobs.” He brings the joint to his mouth again, but he doesn’t inhale, just bitterly bites it. “I could’ve went on like that, but,” his brow furrows, “I’ve seen my peers torture themselves for years for those dreams of theirs. I swore I wouldn’t be one of them. Because they’re all delusional fucks.” He finally glances at you. “Are you one, too?”

Your shoulders drop a little and your lips purse. “I don’t know yet. It’s too early to say.” 

“It’s never too early to say, if the outcome is all the same,” he tells you. 

You consider his words for a moment. It’s the easy way out. You should consider yourself lucky. Everyone wants a reason, a sign, to turn away from the one thing they’re scared to think about. And here he was, giving that to you on a silver platter.

But if what you wanted was really all that fragile, then it means there’s nothing to show for any of it. For all the effort it took you to get here, and all the effort you’re still willing to give. 

“I’ll keep going until I fail,” you say, “or until I succeed.” It’s not really something you say for him, but for yourself.

He juts his bottom lip out and raises his eyebrows, slowly nodding his head, like he’s impressed by you. But his posture remains lax. “I mean, you’re working this job. You’ve got some sort of plan, at least. It’s not like I’m your parent to tell you what to do and what not to do.” He finally takes another drag, eyebrows pinching together at the same time his fingers pinch close to the burn of his joint to pull it away. “What’s that one saying? You can take a horse to the water, but you can’t make it drink.”

“Wow. You don’t sound a day older than sixty-five.”

He smirks at you. “You’ve got a lot of attitude, Canon. Where does it come from?”

You sink a little in your seat, turning away from him to look down at your hands that were still messing with the features of his camera. “My annoying feelings lately.”

“Feelings about what?”

You consider telling the truth. But you don’t. “My car is in repair and I’m not sure I can afford to pay for the bill, since things keep coming up with it.” It was the thing at the top of your mind at the moment though, for some reason, so partially truthful.

He laughs. “Yeah, cars have a way of doing that when you’re finally getting caught up on bills.”

“At what point does spontaneously picking up random, obscure jobs go from omg I’m so excited to have this opportunity to I just need the money?” you ask.

“You mean you’re not already at that point yet?” he says with a scoff. “Soon, then.”

You sigh.

“Y’know I used to work at this lousy cinema a few miles away from Central,” he tells you, hand tapping the table with a rhythm that makes no sense. “Busted my ass working minimum wage on night shifts because I thought I’d catch a big break in conversation with a director, as if Martin Fucking Scorcese would choose to host his opening night at a random Edwards in Tokyo.” His tapping on the table stops. “Tell me that isn’t pathetic as hell.”

“That’s pathetic as hell.”

“The things you’ll do for money,” he says with a sigh. He sounds detached, like it’s really just a message for you.

You lick your lips, skin feeling dry from the wind that occasionally brushes by, and when you glance at Kai again, there’s a grit to his jaw.

“Should’ve been born as one of those damn college athletes,” he grumbles, sucking in fast through the joint that was close to withering away. “Those fuckers don’t pay tuition.”

The harsh colors of the soccer team’s color-coded practice schedule on your phone are visible when you blink, as well as the exhaustion under Gojo’s eyes in the warm lighting of the hotel lobby earlier tonight. “They work hard.”

He looks at you. “I work hard, too.”

Your shoulders tense. “I’m sure.”

“You work hard as well.” Just to include you.

“Yeah.”

“I mean, you can’t tell me that it’s fair.”

Your mind wanders to some of the people you’ve met on that team, who have been nice to you. You think of Gojo, and the memory of him makes you wish you were with him right now. Despite everything.

“I guess it’s not fair,” is all you say, a tactic to diffuse the conversation, one that you’ve had to use twice with him today. The sound of the swing chains clinking together from the wind in the distance runs a chill down your spine.

You feel heavy in your chest, and you glance at the joint pinched in between Kai’s fingers. He’s not keeping an eye on it, so it’s easy to steal, and you bring it to your lips before sucking in. You instantly let out a few coughs. He’s looking at you with surprise. And you’re still in desperate need of that distraction you’ve been craving.

“How long does it take for it to kick in?” you ask, coughing again and pressing a hand to your chest.

“Super long when you can barely stomach a single drag.”

You try again. He watches you. You swear you feel a buzz this time, and you hand the joint back to him. You feel like you’re having an out-of-body experience.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Good,” you tell him, “really good.”

“That’s gotta be placebo, Canon.”

“No, really,” you sigh it. Even if it was, maybe your mind was just blessing you with a single moment of reprieve. “I feel…really good,” you say with your head in a haze. “Best I’ve…” you don’t know why you have to blink back tears, “best I’ve felt this whole week.”

Kai’s silent next to you. You look over at him, and he’s got a scrutinizing expression on his face. His eyes are glazed. “You seeing anyone right now, Canon?”

It’s the savory question you know has been on the tip of his tongue. Ignorantly asked, as if you would’ve been sitting here with him right now in the dead of night if the answer was yes. 

“No.”

He’s leaning towards you, and you’re dazed and also sleepy. His face is close now, there’s an urge to giggle, which means there’s no way this is all just placebo, and when his lips dip towards yours, you’re conscious enough to push him away by a weakly fisted hand pressed to his collarbone.

“Oh. I. Um,” you stutter.

“What?” he asks, eyebrow raised, still close to you.

“No. No thanks.” Because it felt wrong. 

He fully pulls away from you, and runs a hand through his hair, a deep sigh leaving him. “Alright.”

You’re breathing faster now, surroundings feeling vague, like you’re in sweltering heat but the air only bites cold.

You stand up suddenly. “I…I want to go back.”

“Go back where?”

“To the hotel. To my room.” You pause. “I mean, by myself. Not with you. We can share a ride, though.”

He stands up too, hands reaching for you, gripping the straps of his camera still hung around your neck and he pulls it off to place it back into the case. You feel like you’ve lost favor with him somehow. “Okay. Sure.” 

“But not with you.” You felt the need to clarify again.

“I get it, Canon. It’s fine.”

—

“Maybe you just need to fuck him aggressively without mercy.”

“I beg your finest pardon?”

You’re sitting in a booth inside this streetside KFC with Mina sitting across the table, waving a fry around in the air, and with Nobara next to you as she tries to open a packet of ketchup with her teeth. The hangout the three of you have been hyping up all week, just to be sat in the same place you always go to. You were about to take a bite out of your sandwich, but you set it back down on your tray.

Mina points the fry at you and shrugs. “I’m saying. Maybe you’re having such a hard time getting over Gojo because you got so close to fucking him in that bathroom, but you didn’t, and now you’re in, like, this constant state of edging.” She bites down on the fry. “The clit knows what the heart doesn’t.”

“Your theories never fail to amaze me,” you mumble, sinking further into the booth. 

“Perhaps it’ll take the edge off.” Mina sucks through the straw of her Diet coke. Nobara finally succeeds in opening her packet of ketchup.

“I doubt it. Besides, I technically already gave him an invitation to,” you say, fingers rubbing at your eye with a swipe as you wince from the memory, “and he rejected me, so, still swimming in the self hatred from that one.”

Mina hums. “There’s no way he’s not foaming at the mouth for it, y/n. Men never let a meal they were craving go unfinished,” she states, dramatically stabbing a chicken nugget with a fork.

“What kind of pigs do you guys associate yourselves with?” Nobara asks. She’s a lesbian, by the way.

“I raise another question. Why are we talking about this in a public restaurant?” you offer.

“Listen, babes,” Mina continues, like your words fall on deaf ears because she’s got some point to make, “it’ll either poof. Make your feelings go away like the drop of a hat because you find out he’s a bad lay. Or it’ll be so good that you realize you’re never getting over him and you’ll be thinking of his dick instead of your husband’s on your wedding night.”

“We’re. In. A. Public. Restaurant.”

Mina steals a biscuit from your tray. “If it ends up being the first outcome, then the whole thing was my idea. If it’s the second…then just know that Nobara has steered you wrong.”

“Why the hell do you have to drag me into this?” Nobara asks.

You’re about to take a bite from your sandwich again when you’re interrupted by the buzzing of your phone in your purse. You pull it out and glance at the caller ID, then let out a sigh.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” you mumble, slipping out of the booth and towards the restaurant’s exit, pushing the tense door open with a gust of fresh air brushed through you.

“Hello?” It’s the car repair man. “Really? I thought you said it was fixed.” Apparently something else came up. “Okay…how much longer will it be in repair?” Much longer than you had thought. “And how much will it cost?” Much more expensive than you had thought. “I don’t know what to say. I mean, really, I feel as though every time I’m on the line with you all, I have to wait longer to get my car back, and the bill just racks up higher.” They’re trying their best. “I know. Is it necessary to fix in order to drive, though?” State laws require it. “Okay…thanks for the update.” And then you hang up without another word, and with all the frustration in the world.

You head back inside and grumble about your car woes to Mina and Nobara, who try their best to respond with interest.

“Why can’t your insurance cover it?” Mina asks.

“Apparently they can’t claim it’s because of those rocks I drove over,” you sigh, “since it looks like it’s been a problem for longer than that.”

“Can you afford it?” Nobara asks.

“Not really,” you say. “I’ll just have to postpone having my car for a bit.”

You sigh with a glance out the window of this fine dining establishment, into the blue skies just beyond, head drowning out the voices of Mina and Nobara as they continue to grill you about all sorts of questions that you don’t have the energy to answer right now. You had another student loan payment to make once you got home today, and just the thought of it makes your heart drop a little. And you realize you just can’t afford to be picky about your financial situation anymore.

—

“Thanks for helping me out with this,” you say, footsteps over familiar grassy hills as you head towards the UTokyo’s practice field, your digital Canon EOS hanging from your neck. 

“Sure,” Kai says as he keeps pace next to you, “why the sudden mission, though?”

You’re gazing off straight ahead, a nervous pit in your stomach since it’s been a while since you’ve walked across this landscape towards the field. 

“I just feel like I need to diversify my income somehow,” you sigh, the buzzwords leaving a bitter taste in your mouth as you say them but it was the reality of your situation, “to make ends meet. When you mentioned freelance work during our conversation last week, it made me think it’s time for me to pick that up too.”

Kai hums. “Yeah, it’s a good plan. I’ll try to show you what I know.”

Once you’ve made it to the top of that hill, the one that oversees the field, your eyes instantly scan the field for familiar silhouettes, and your breath catches in your throat when you spot Gojo passively kicking a ball back and forth between one of his teammates for warm-ups.

It’s the second time you’ve seen him since that argument the two of you had in the hotel lobby, the first being at the post-game conference in which you did everything in your power to swiftly avoid him, and you plan on keeping that up. There’s also an urge to run away, but you’re starting to realize that’s not much of an option anymore.

“Honestly, you don’t really need to worry too much about shutter speed with freelance like you do for shooting sports,” Kai is mumbling next to you as he messes with the settings on his camera, the two of you making your way down the hill towards the field, and you’re not really listening because your eyes are on Gojo, who’s yelling something across the field to his teammates with a look of concentration on his face.

“Uh huh, I see,” you say. You see Kai glance at you in his periphery.

“You again!” you hear a familiar harsh voice call out, and you turn on your heel to face Coach Yaga who’s standing a few feet away in his custom UTokyo tracksuit with his arms crossed against his chest. “Why are you on my field?”

You hold your breath for a second. “Hi, Coach Yaga, so sorry, but I’m just here to take some more photos.”

He lets out one of his hmphs, unrelenting. “You’re a distraction. Get off my field.”

“D-Distraction?”

“Coach!” Suddenly, Geto’s in your line of sight as he emerges with a light jog up to your side. “You should really be nicer to our photographers, they give us a lot of publicity for our games. And publicity means funding.”

Coach Yaga narrows his eyes. “I need all my players focused right now. Even during practice.” He gives you a disapproving glance and you’re still confused, but also weirdly angered.

“Excuse me, Coach Yaga, but last time I checked, this field is technically open for all students. And I’m a student,” you say to him, crossing your arms across your chest now. “So, I can be here if I want.”

You have no idea if that’s true at all, but sometimes you’ve just gotta fake it ‘til you make it.

Coach Yaga grumbles something and then waves his hands in the air. “Fine! I’ve no bandwidth to argue about this anymore! Just don’t distract my players.”

You’re shocked that it worked, and Geto nudges you with an elbow to correct your expression so that Coach Yaga doesn’t catch on to the bullshit you just spewed. 

“Are you here to take some photos?” Geto asks, facing you. He’s got his hands on his hips, breathing slightly fast, some of his hair falling onto his forehead. 

“Yeah, I am, just for practice though. I’m here with—” you glance at Kai, who’s standing with his fists shoved into his pockets, “Kai. He’s also with the newsletter.”

There’s a moment where Geto studies the two of you for a second before speaking. “I know,” he says, extending his hand out for Kai to shake, which he does, “I think I’ve seen you around. Not sure if we’ve formally met, but it’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, likewise.” Kai’s hand is then shoved back into his pocket.

You feel awkward suddenly, and then quickly say something to Geto about how he should probably get back to practice, which he agrees to, and then you’re standing at the chalk sideline with Kai as he shows you the ins and outs about digital photography.

“Have you tried shooting in burst mode?” he asks, switching the feature on your camera and then handing it back to you. You sling the strap around your neck.

“Hm…” you start, pointing your camera across the expanse of the field to multiple areas. The trees off into the distance, the goal posts, Coach Yaga’s yapping Pomeranian. “Not really…” The grass beneath your feet, the sky above your head, and then blurrily focused before settling on Gojo who stood in the distance straight ahead.

You see through your viewfinder that he’s caught sight of you too, a look of surprise on his face seen only by the level of zoom, and you glance up from the screen to make eye contact with him in reality. He’s fully staring at you, and you can barely see the way his expression relaxes from that one of athletic concentration to something wistful and strange that you’ve had a hard time reading lately.

“Canon? Are you even listening?”

“Huh?” you snap out of it and look at Kai. “Sorry. Could you repeat that?” You quickly glance toward Gojo again, and his line of sight points towards Kai now.

“I was asking if you’ve tried panning before,” he says, reaching for your camera, pulling it towards him, but the strap around your neck means you’re pulled closer to him too. 

“Satoru!” Coach Yaga yells in the distance. “Eyes on the ball!” 

“Just got to set your camera to manual mode first,” Kai mutters, confusion in his voice. “Where the fuck is it?” He’s turning your camera in his hands, which only has you stumbling with another small step towards him, your chest pressed flush to his arm, and he looks down at you for a brief second with a smirk on his face.

You hear the sound of a ball being kicked on the field, followed by the shout of one of the players.

“Ah, here, found it,” Kai says, handing your camera back to you, and just as you’re about to say thanks and you hold your camera up, you’re hit straight in the face by a flying object and fall backwards onto the grass with a painful thud.

What the fuck?

Where are you?

Who are you?

Okay, that’s dramatic, it wasn’t that bad.

There’s shouting in the distance as you hold your head with a groan, eyes shut tight with images of your life flashing behind your eyelids, and when you open your eyes again from where you’re sat up on the grass, you’re surrounded by soccer players.

Gojo’s suddenly in your line of sight, knelt down beside you and he’s holding your shoulders, trying to get you to look at him but you’re still blinking away the stars you’re seeing. “Fuck, y/n, are you okay?” he asks, and you register the concern on his face.

“Dude,” one of his teammates kicks the heel of his cleat, “where the fuck were you looking? It was clear as day I was tryna pass to you.”

Gojo grumbles something to him, his brow furrowed, and he’s lowering his head to try to make eye-level contact with you but you’re still holding your head with a wince.

“Oh shit,” Kai comments, “she’s bleeding.”

You pull your hand from your face to glance down at the wetness that you feel, and bright red color stains the tips of your fingers.

The next thing you register is Gojo picking you up off the hard grassy ground into his arms, and starts carrying you away down the field.

“W-What the hell are you doing?” you ask, his pacing across the grass is fast and you have to wrap your arms around his neck to keep from getting dizzy.

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he says, voice strained in his throat, and you’ve never seen him look so worried before. 

“The hospital?! Please don’t, I don’t have health insurance right now.” His face is so close and you’re distracted from the pain of your headache.

“You’re bleeding on the face, I’m taking you whether you like it or not,” he grumbles.

You dig your nails into his shoulder through the nylon of his shirt, and he hisses from the pain before stopping in his tracks. “I don’t need to go to the hospital, Satoru, I just need a fucking bandaid.”

“You could have a concussion.”

“A concussion?!” You kick your feet for him to let you down but his grip on you only tightens. “You’re being ridiculous. Let me go, or I’ll bite you.”

He scoffs at that and continues walking forward. “You’re gonna bite me? That’s the most threatening thing you could come up with?”

“I’m being so dead serious, Gojo Satoru. No hospital.”

He grumbles something under his breath at your use of his full government name, and then says “fine” but he’s still walking down the grass until his cleats begin to tap on concrete, and then on what sounds like tile as he carries you into a building a few yards from the field.

He seats you on a cold counter, your hand gripping the faucet of a sink, and you finally take a comprehensive look at your surroundings. light blue, faint scent of chlorine in the air

“Is this…a locker room? The men's locker room?”

He sighs, bending his knees a bit to look at your face closely. You flinch when his hand reaches out, and he pauses, but you relax slightly and then he rubs his thumb over your cheek. You feel the smear of a droplet of blood. “Yes. I need running water.” He turns the faucet of the sink on to run his thumb under.

“For what?” you ask. His thumb is running over your cheek again.

“To take care of this cut.” He disappears behind a tile wall for a moment. You can hear metal clanking, probably of a locker opening and closing, and he re-emerges with a first-aid kit.

You slide your butt across the counter to the edge, about to hop off and make a run for it when he grabs your hips and puts you back into place. “Don’t even think about it,” he grumbles. He leans forward, grips you strongly, and you see that he’s still breathing heavily from practice, strands of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, and you can practically taste the salt on his neck. 

You press your shin to the front of his thigh, desperate to put some space between the two of you. “I don’t wanna be in here. Men are scary.”

“Well I can’t take you into the women’s locker room,” he says, ripping the packet of an antiseptic wipe open with his teeth, “I’d get registered as a sex offender.”

You attempt at an escape again, and he’s quick to get his hands on you to stop it.

“Quit manhandling me, or I’ll scream,” you threaten through gritted teeth, because you’re still mad at him. For everything.

“Go ahead,” he says, using his knee to spread your legs apart, then finds a place to stand between your thighs to get closer to you. “I’ve got a lot of ways I could shut you up.”

You blink at him, breath catching in your throat, and the expression on his face tells you he’s not interested in dealing with your stubbornness anymore.

“Just hold still,” he grumbles, placing the packet down on your thigh and then stepping off to the side to wash his hands under the sink.

“What exactly happened?” you ask, watching him dry his hands off with a few paper towels. One moment, Kai was trying to explain good digital photography to you, and the next you were dizzy from being knocked back onto the ground.

“You got hit by a soccer ball.”

“I know, but how?” You remember your camera hit your face from the impact too, and now you’re worried about it.

“I…wasn’t paying attention when my teammate passed it,” he admits with a sigh, finding his place in front of you again, the knuckles of his clean hand brushing across your cheek, caressing. Your expression softens slightly. He uses a hand spread across the small of your back to push you forward to him, then he gently passes the wipe over your wound.

“Oh okay so, you failed to protect me from a flying soccer ball.” 

He pulls his hand from you to read the lettering on the back of the packet. “I’m patching you up now, aren’t I?” he says, annoyed. “…oh fuck, I was supposed to go in with water first.”

“So glad to be in such good hands right now.” 

He gives you a pointed look, but you ignore it and turn your torso to see your reflection in the mirror for the first time. You had a small wound on your cheek, right over the bone, with some bleeding and it’s wider than it is deep. But when you look at Gojo again, who’s putting some ointment onto a Q-tip now, the look of guilt and worry on his face makes you feel satisfied for some reason, and you wanted to make it worse.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, brow furrowed, applying the cold gel to your cheek.

“Mhm. A lot.” Not really, no.

“Fuck. I’m sorry,” he sighs, head dipping towards you slightly to get a better look, “can you feel this?”

“Ahh, yeah. Ouch. So much.” Barely.

His other hand is placed flat on the counter next to where you’re sitting, and you allow it when his thumb starts to run soothing circles over your hip.

“Hmm…” you start, wide eyes looking up at him as he seems to lean closer and closer to you with every word that leaves your lips, “I really wonder if it’ll leave a scar.”

He looks tortured. His hand that was maneuvering the Q-tip in his hands drops to the counter now, and he brings his other one to your face, cupping your cheek. His eyes dart from the wound, thumb pressing at the plush of your cheek, and this time, it hurts a little so you wince. His expression is tense, some sort of inner turmoil you could read across his forehead, and then his jaw hardens.

“Who was that guy you were talking to earlier?”

You blink a few, then tilt your head slightly. You feel like you’re on a game show, where there’s four options and only one right answer. New boytoy, gay best friend, fuck buddy, or— “He’s my coworker.”

“That’s it?”

“Mhm.”

“Has he tried anything funny with you?” 

You almost roll your eyes. “No, dad, he hasn’t.”

“Woah. Say that again but make it daddy.”

“Hey just a quick question for you. Where do you get the audacity?”

His bent index finger finds a place under your chin, tilting your head up so you’re forced to look at him. “It’s your fault, really. I can’t help it sometimes,” he says, voice lower now. You’re squirming a little, wanting to push him away but his lips get close to your cheek, brushing near your wound, like he wants to make it all better somehow. “I really am sorry,” he whispers, near your ear. There’s a whimper you have to stifle in your throat. He pulls aways just enough to where he can look into your eyes. “A cut…” he starts, thumb now passing over your bottom lip, “on your pretty face.” He sighs. You shouldn’t, but when he prods, you tuck his thumb under your front teeth and your tongue presses slightly against the padded skin of it. He looks like he’s being driven to insanity, and his other hand has no shame at all in pulling you towards him, to seat you at the edge of the counter, and you miss the texture of his thumb on your tongue when he pulls it from your mouth. But it’s so he can dip his head down to kiss you instead.

Of course the sensation of his lips on yours only lasts for a second, because the universe really fucking hates (or loves?) you, so the loud clanking of a metal water bottle against tile interrupts with harsh reverberation throughout the locker room walls, and he pulls away from you when you jump at the sound.

You both turn your heads towards the origin, located at the curved end of the entryway hall, and one of Gojo’s teammates is standing there with his duffle bag slung around his neck and hanging heavily to his thigh, his water bottle clutched in his hand. He blinks at the two of you.

Oh. It’s the one you kissed at that party a few weeks ago.

“What—…Why is there a—” his teammate starts, panicked, turning his head to double check the sign on the locker room wall as if he’s hallucinating, and when his eyes land on you again, they widen with recognition. His gaze shifts, and his chin tips down at the sight of Gojo’s irritated side eye from where he was still all up in your personal space. “…you know what. Nevermind.”

His teammate’s eyes are on you again, and you give him a shy little wave, just a fluttering of your fingers in the air paired with a small smile, legs swinging back and forth under the counter. He lets out an amused scoff from the entryway, lifting his hand to return the gesture, some cheeky grin on his face as he then scratches the back of his head before turning on his heel to leave the locker room, out of sight. You let out a sigh, hand dropping to your lap, and you don’t need to look at Gojo to tell that he’s staring at you with disbelief.

“What the fuck was that—”

“You,” you interrupt him, finger jabbing at the center of his chest, “have seriously got a lot of fucking nerve,” you hop off the counter, “to not only allow a soccer ball to sock me in the face,” he’s taking a step back with every harsh jab of your finger, “but to also hold me hostage in a mens�� locker room,” his back is pressed up against cold tile wall now while he just looks down at you with wide eyes and something akin to fear, “and then, oh my god, the audacity to kiss me?”

“I—”

“I don’t wanna hear it!” you yell, which shuts him up. “You really are just a fucking player.”

He’s stiff, not wanting to catch a punishment from you right now.

“But it doesn’t matter,” you grumble, still drilling your finger into his ribcage with the intent to cause pain. You didn’t need to be this close, but his body is warm, probably due to the blood pumping from practice, and it feels nice to be pressed up against. “Because I don’t have feelings for you anymore, so just fucking get over yourself.” It was a lie if you’ve ever told one, but you wanted to believe it so much that it could come off as the truth.

His eyes narrow down at you, eyebrows flattening. “You don’t have feelings for me anymore?”

“No, I don’t.”

“I don’t believe you.”

You roll your eyes. “Why? Because you want me to keep suffering?”

He grabs your hips, then makes a motion that is evident of his desire to pull you flush to him, but he stops himself. There’s a moment where he just takes a few deep breaths and looks at you with a hardened expression, then a split second where his eyes fall to that little cut on your cheek, and every single feature of his face softens, and then he lets you go.

You take a small step back, breathing heavily of your own, and you feel the ghost sensation of his fingertips wrapped around your hips. It makes you feel dizzy, and your thoughts are a mess. 

He sighs. “Sorry. For the soccer ball, and this locker room. But I’m not really sorry for kissing you, and if that makes me a jerk, then so be it.”

Your heart is beating fast. “You are a jerk, Satoru,” you say. He doesn’t like you, he doesn’t want you. A mantra played over and over in your head that you’ve started to hear it at night. “A real fucking jerk.” And you leave him standing there in a way that feels like the hundredth time.

—

2:34pm kaito (work): yo

2:34pm kaito (work): i had my guy look at your camera

2:35pm kaito (work): it’s pretty fucked up

2:37pm you: :( oh okay isee. does he have an estimate for the fix? the lens is okay though right?

2:39pm kaito (work): yeah lens is fine, you should really count your blessings on that. 

2:40pm kaito (work): but nah, fix would be around the same as the cost of it, so you’re better off getting a new one

2:42pm you: i don’t have thousands of yen laying around unfortunately. my car bill has sucked me dry

2:44pm kaito (work): well let me check with him. maybe he can hook you up with a good deal on a used one

2:45pm kaito (work): i got a 50% off on one of my canon cameras i bought from him a few years back. maybe he’s still got some like that

2:46pm you: yes could you check with him please? thanks so much, really

2:48pm kaito (work): sure. although i think the guy that kicked the ball to your face should be paying for your camera replacement

2:51pm you: they were just practicing. it’s their field

2:56pm kaito (work): alright. btw, you free tonight?

You blink at your phone screen from where you were sprawled across your bed. Before you have a chance to type out a response, your phone lights up with a phone call from kaito (work). You accept the call.

“Oh, hi,” you say.

“Hey, are you free tonight?”

“Oh uhh, I was just about to check my schedule.” You shake your head at your inability to come up with an excuse on the spot.

“Okay,” he says on the other line. You hear the sounds of cars honking in the distance. “Well let me know. I just left my camera guy’s shop, and he was telling me about how one of his friends does visuals for a short-film director, and that the director is looking for an assistant.” Kai grumbles something about someone he walked past being rude. “I think the director’s agency is Verve Films, so.”

You sit up in bed, eyes wide at the mention of the name. “Oh, oh wow. That’s insane.”

“Yup,” he says, “anyways, apparently the director is busy as fuck, so he left the hiring process up to my camera guy’s friend. I told him I knew someone that might be interested. Are you?”

You take a deep breath in and out. “Yeah, I am. Most of my experience on my resume lines up with short-film, so I’d be able to—”

“Alright great,” he interrupts, “so we can hold the interview tonight.”

“We?” you ask.

“Well yeah, me, my camera guy, the hiring guy. Maybe go for drinks or something.”

Your brow furrows. “That hardly sounds like an interview.”

Kai sighs. “Well, it’s not an interview for a desk job or something. It’s more of like—well, like building connections. I know you know all about that, since Utahime got you the newsletter job.”

Well, yes. She put a word in for you, which helped get the interview, but you still went against qualified applicants. “I guess.”

“It’ll be like that. Most opportunities you’ll get if you still want to pursue filmmaking are going to be like that,” he tells you, “if it feels informal, it means you’re doing it right. You might not think so now because you’re still in school, where they practically serve opportunities to students on platters, but it’s going to be different in the real world.”

You lay your head back onto the pillow, feeling like you’re receiving a lecture you didn’t ask for, and your first instinct is to pretend that you know better than he does. But when you think about all the stress recently, all of the not knowing, and the unsure, you question if you should start leaning into the advice of the people around you, and start to accept this career path for what it’s known to be. Unruly, unconventional, and a lot of times, unfair. 

“I see. Well, can I think about it? Tonight is too soon, I’d need time to research the director, put a portfolio together, and also do some interview prep,” you say, pulling your phone from your ear to glance at the time.

“Well, tonight’s the only night that works since their team’s shooting abroad for the weekend and they leave tomorrow morning,” he says.

You purse your lips together.

“But also,” Kai says, “it’s the nice thing to do, y’know, since my camera guy is taking the time to look at your camera for free, you could at least help his friend out. By the way, he just texted me, he does have some used Canons available at discount.”

You close your eyes for a second, just trying to process this conversation right now. Kai was speaking too fast, hardly enough time for you to even think.

“So do you want to do the interview tonight?”

“Yes, sure. Okay. Just— just send me the details. I’ll be there,” you say.

“Alright cool, will do.” 

You say bye, and then he hangs up.

A few hours pass by, where you spend some time putting together a flash drive of a couple of your best short films you’ve worked on in the past with other directors, as well as a portfolio of some recently developed film photography. The last thing to do was grab your emergency stash of print outs of your resume, and then you stuff it all into a folder before glancing at the mirror to take in your reflection. It felt extremely weird to show up to a job interview in something as casual as what you were wearing right now, but Kai insisted to not wear anything business. But at least you opted for jeans that don’t have any DIY holes in them.

Your face is glued to the navigation on your phone screen the second you get out of the taxi, and you walk down the bustling nightlife streets of Tokyo to get to this bar that Kai sent you the address of. But just as you’re about to turn the corner to your destination down the bar strip, you bump into someone’s chest due to lack of paying any proper attention.

“Ah— I’m so sorry,” you say, your grip on your phone tightening when you realize it was about to get knocked out of your hand, and then you look up to see a familiar face.

“Oh!” Geto exclaims from where he’s standing right in front of you, “You’re everywhere, y/n. What are you doing here?”

You open your mouth to speak, hesitate for a second, and then continue. “I’m here to…get drinks with some of my friends.”

He gives you a smile. “That’s nice. I am too.” He points over his shoulder to behind him. “Nanami got into his MBA program earlier this week, so, Satoru, Choso and I are buying him a few rounds. Or possibly a million. The plan is to incapacitate him as punishment for giving up on playing in the national league with us.”

You humor him with a laugh. “That’s sweet. Or not? Well anyway, tell him I said congrats.” Your heart starts to beat a little faster, because from the direction Geto came from, it meant Gojo was likely just around the corner somewhere. “Where are you heading to now?”

“We’re bar hopping, and I think I forgot my phone at the last one we went to over there,” he says, pointing across the street. “So I’m going to go look for it.” 

“Oh alright,” you say. “Good luck with that. I’m going to go find my, uh, my friends.”

Geto tilts his head at you and had a slightly more serious expression on his face, glancing at the folder in your hands. “Thanks. And stay safe.” 

You nod at him and then walk past him to round the corner onto the street that had groups of people loitering in front of restaurants, bars and all sorts of establishments as they wait in the cold to get inside or be seated. You recognize the name on one of the signs hanging as the one Kai sent you in his message, and when you’re a few feet away from it, you spot Kai. He’s wearing his typical street photographer wear, with a red flannel over a gray shirt and pants that are possibly a size too big for him, but that’s likely the style he was going for. He’s standing with two other people.

“Hey,” you greet Kai first, who has a pleasant look on his expression before he greets you back and gestures to the two people he was with.

“Yo, this is Junichi, my camera guy,” he says. “Don’t bother shaking his hand, he’s a germaphobe. Gotta keep ‘em clean for the electronics.”

“Oh,” you say. Junichi is a big man, broad shoulders and thick muscles. His neck is almost as thick as his bicep, and he has no hair on his head. His arms are crossed. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for taking a look at my camera.”

He nods at you in acknowledgment. “Sure thing. Pretty Boy here says you want to buy one of my used Canons. I don’t refurbish them, so you’d better know how.”

Kai sighs, nudging Junichi a little with a fist. “Relax, dude, we can talk about that later. Also, stop calling me that.”

Your eyes flicker to the right, where another man stood, who you assume was Junichi’s friend and this Verve Films director’s visual effects specialist. He’s similar in stature to Kai, with that casual artist look, and he has a scuffle of facial hair littering his jaw in less of an intentional fashion but rather a five-o-clock shadow fashion. You vaguely register the scent of weed, familiar to the one that lingers in the photo lab on campus after class hours. He reaches his hand out to you first.

“Hi, I’m Ren. I work in visual effects for director Akira Ko at Verve.”

Your eyes widen as you shake his hand.  “That’s amazing. I’ve studied a lot of his contemporary works, I’d love to learn more about his process.”

Ren lets a fast exhale out through his nose. “Yeah, you’ll learn a lot under him.” He pauses to shove his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Most of his assistants always do.”

“We’ve been waiting for too damn long,” Kai interjects before you could ask any questions about the assistant position, and he glances at his watch, “and there’s still a lot of people ahead of us.”

You glance around to the small groups of people gathered in front of this bar on a lively Friday night, eyes jumping from one area to the next, until a familiar silhouette catches your eye.

You see Gojo standing with Nanami and Choso a few strides away, near the lamppost. He’s mostly turned away from you, Nanami nudging his arm annoyed at something he said, and the sound of his laughter in the air makes your heart feel like it’s at stray. Like that was where you were supposed to be right now, not here.

You watch him from the distance as he sighs, shrugging his shoulders up and down slightly before crossing his arms when Choso gestures towards the entrance of the bar, and so he looks in that direction too. He’s frowning slightly and he brushes some of the hair fallen over his forehead away from his eyes, in that boyish way that makes your heart skip a beat, and you know he’s just doing it to see a little bit better, but it makes you want to cry. 

Geto walks up to them and rejoins their little circle, and holds his phone up in the air, and then there’s the melody of their voices bouncing off one another’s again. Geto rests his elbow up onto Gojo’s shoulder, leaning in a bit closer to tell him something, and when Gojo hears it, you see his entire body tense before his wide eyes are searching his surroundings, until those eyes land on you.

Your breath catches, and you hold his eye contact for only a moment before you look away, because it almost felt like too much to bear.

“What’s that folder in your hand?” Ren asks you, and you turn completely to face him so you can’t see Gojo in your periphery at all anymore.

“I just brought some of my work, for your—er, I guess Mr. Ko’s—reference if he’d like to see it after today’s…interview,” you say. “There’s a flashdrive, too.”

Ren has an amused look on his face and he shoves Kai’s shoulder with his palm. “Dude, you didn’t tell her?”

Kai shakes his head. “Tell her what?”

“Ohh, I see how it is,” Ren muses.

“What?” Kai asks, starting to sound annoyed.

Ren tips his chin up slightly to study Kai’s face, and then his look of amusement dissipates into one of understanding. “Nothing.”

“Tell me what?” you prod.

“Just that you didn’t really need to bring all of that with you,” he says. “Sorry for the trouble.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine, but if you could still give it to him—”

“I’m surprised Kai suggested someone when I asked if he knew anyone,” Junichi jumps in, “I’m used to him grumbling on and on about how shit the work is in filmmaking. Would’ve thought he’d convinced you to look the other way by now.”

You blink at the gruff man, then look at Kai, and he’s just staring down at the dirt of his shoes. “Well, we had a conversation about it. But I’m pretty set on what I want to do,” you say.

Kai lets out a scoff. “Yeah, I don’t really know how else to warn you about the shit show you’re in for, but if you want to be in debt to grad school for the next couple decades of your life, then it’s up to you.”

“Hey, jackass, try to be a bit nicer,” Ren speaks up. “She’s got some goals. Big fuckin’ deal.” He turns to you. “Although, he’s got a point sweetheart, school’s not going to get you anywhere in this industry.”

You frown. “A lot of directors I look up to went through graduate schooling. Most, I would say. I don’t understand where this rhetoric is coming from.”

“It’s coming from real people with real experience,” Ren says, and you dislike the way he takes a step closer to you to reiterate his point, “honestly, you should save yourself some time and give up on applying. It’s not worth it.”

“I’ve already put my application together,” you say, brow furrowing slightly, “I’ve asked professors for my references, spent the past four years working on my profile—” 

“But working under a director, I mean really getting to work under one, beats all of that. Which is why you’re here, right?” Ren asks, but it’s not curious, it’s testing.

You feel a sheen of sweat build at your forehead, even in this cold, and you clench your hand into a fist once, twice, thrice. You’re breathing fast, and the three sets of eyes that are staring so scrutinizingly into your soul right now have you faltering, like if they took another step forward, tried to intrude what you thought you knew one more time, you’d fall backwards over the cliff.

Suddenly, a hand wraps around your upper arm, and when you turn your head to the left, you see Gojo standing there.

“Hey,” he says to you, sparing one single sidewards glare towards Kai, who immediately averts the eye contact, before Gojo’s eyes are on you again, “can I talk to you for a second?”

You look at the three men in your circle, who suddenly adopt skittish body postures, and Gojo doesn’t really wait longer than a few seconds before he’s pulling you away from them over towards the edge of the curb towards the street.

“What?” you ask once he lets go of your arm.

“What are you doing here with those guys?” he asks.

“I’m—…why does it matter to you?” you ask.

“It matters to me because of the fucking absurd conversation I just overheard,” he says, “now answer me.”

His tone annoys you, and you cross your arms. “Are you eavesdropping?”

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” he says, taking a step forward to you, “who are those guys, and why are you here with them?”

You blink at him, furrowed brows relaxing slightly as you drop your crossed arms to your side, and you stare straight ahead at the blankness of the white t-shirt he’s wearing, as your mind runs blank to his question. Why were you here with them? Was it because you had no other plans? Was it because the opportunity sounded too good to be true, and you just had to see for yourself? Was it because you’ve been unable to sleep at night from all the stress, the financial worries, the rejection, and you just want to finally feel like you’ve done one good thing for yourself? To feel like you’re at least making one step in the right direction, no matter the cost?

“I’m here for a job interview,” you say to him. Your tone is flat, and you feel numb.

“A job interview?” he asks, with just about as much incredulity you would’ve expected to hear from him at that answer, “At a bar? How does that make any sense?”

“It…” you start, “sounded fine.”

“It sounds shady as fuck.”

“This doesn’t concern you, okay? I’m—…I’m just trying to make my goals work for me, Satoru, and I really don’t expect you to understand.”

“Why wouldn’t I understand?” he asks. There’s confusion in his voice, and maybe even a little bit of hurt.

“Because you can’t even understand how unfair and painful it is for me that you keep—” you have to purse your lips together briefly to fight back the knot in your throat, “…that you keep interfering with my life everywhere I go.”

His expression softens, and he silently stands in front of you for a moment. His eyes dart across your face, and then he reaches out to grab your hand. “Listen, if you still want to get drinks tonight, then just get drinks with us. But don’t hang out with those guys. They’re bad news, especially the dude with the flannel, and I don’t think you’re in a good place right now to see that.”

Your eyes see white fury at that, and you all but snap. Because the irony of this whole situation, is that you’re not in a good place right now because of him. Because of all the pain that he’s put you through, for promising to stay away but then always being near, for saying he doesn’t want you but then acting like he does. 

“You know what I think, Satoru?” you ask through gritted teeth, yanking your hand from his grasp.

He’s looking at you, studying. “What?”

You take a step forward, threateningly, and he takes a step back so that he steps off the curb and onto the road, and you’re at eye-level with him now. “I think that you’re jealous,” you say, eyes glaring daggers into his.

He blinks at you, almost dumbfounded for a moment before he says “what?”

“You’re just fucking jealous that I seem to be moving on after you rejected me, because for some weird reason, you think it’s okay to not want me, and yet not want me to be with anyone else,” you say, practically hissing the words. “You don’t like seeing me with any guys other than you? You don’t want to believe me when I say that I’m over you? You’re not sorry for kissing me? Even after knowing,” you take a pause to breathe, because you feel like you can’t, “even after knowing that I like you,” eyes blinking fast because you don’t want him to see you cry right now, “you know that I like you so fucking much, and that it’s hurtful, and that it’s wrong— and even after all of that, you act the same, and still won’t promise me any commitment of your own.”

He’s looking at you with an expression you can’t read, but you’ve lost all interest in trying to understand it anymore.

“You don’t want me hanging out with them?” you repeat after him, “I’m not listening to that. Because it’s possessive. And it’s wrong.”

At the mention of them, Gojo clenches his jaw. “That has nothing to do with you and me, right now. What they’re trying to convince you of doesn’t make any sense, and it won’t help you achieve your dreams either, y/n.”

“You don’t know anything about my dreams, Satoru,” you say, just to hurt him. But you think about the sincere expression on his face the first time you met him when you told him that you wanted his help with your assignment. You think about the playful nudge of his elbow that night he stayed with you on the curb, and told you that you just had to try to put yourself out there, because you couldn’t accomplish anything without facing your fears. You think about how he’s always the first to like every single one of the slideshows you post of your pictures on Instagram. You think about the adoration in his eyes, reflected off the moonlight through the hotel window, when you told him about a little cottage on the countryside, one you’ve always wanted, and those eyes told you that he was really rooting for you. “You don’t know. Because you—” there’s an echo of words in your head. Someone else’s words, not yours, “Because you’re a college athlete. And—” you let out an exhale, “and you don’t pay tuition.”

His brow furrows. There’s a beat of silence as his confusion settles in. “What?”

“You were born blessed with talent, and you’re popular, and people adore you, and you don’t have to worry about internships, or jumping from job to job just to make something of yourself,” you say, picturing your life in your head along with all the strife, “or about all of the sinking debt, and the worry, and the— and the car repair bills,” you say, almost with a scoff, eyes sheening with tears, like you’re losing your mind, “all of the fucking car repair bills.” Your chest is heaving as you shake your head. “Because you’re set for life as long as you kick a fucking ball.” 

His lips purse together, like he can tell there’s more on your tongue to say, more hurtful words, and he wants to hear you say them. And so you do.

“You’ve never had to suffer or worry about a single thing in your life. So don’t pretend like you understand what I’m trying to do here tonight,” you say, inflection signing off on the end, to tell him that you’re done. 

He stands in front of you, practically motionless except for the slow movement of his chest as he breathes. His expression, tense and hurt, softens slowly, and you see him digging his nails into the skin of his palms through fidgeting clenched fists at his sides. And then he relaxes them, too.

“Does that make you feel better?” he asks.

His question confuses you, and for some reason, regret washes over you. “What?”

“Does thinking of me that way—…does it make you feel better about all of this? Between us?”

You’re breathing fast, eyebrows pinching upwards to look at him, and the defeated expression on his face makes your heart ache. He’s waiting for an answer, and so you give him one. “Yes.”

He glances down at the ground for a moment, then at your collarbone, before meeting your gaze again. “I’m sorry. For everything. And I—” the words catch in his throat briefly, “I’ll try to leave you alone tonight.”

His use of the word try doesn’t escape you, but you give him a furtive nod, and he studies your face for a few moments before he steps back up onto the curb and walks past you. You watch him walk all the way, no longer with that confidence or conviction you’re so used to seeing in him, as he steps back into his circle, to Geto’s side. Geto gives a small glance over his shoulder to look at you with discerning eyes before looking at Gojo again, and then he’s turned away from you. 

Heavy feet drag you back to Kai, Ren, and Junichi, and you feel feverish. They mention something about the table being ready, and you nod. The bar is rustic, with more tables than barspace, and the four of you are seated and then presented with a small food menu. You’re seated next to Kai, Ren is right across from you, and Junichi is to his right. You watch a waitress usher Nanami, Choso, Geto and Gojo to one of the tables as well, two away from yours, and you forcefully blur your vision so you don’t have to catch sight of the expression on Gojo’s face.

“So,” Ren speaks up as his eyes peruse the food menu and Junichi waves the waitress over to order a round of sake, “tell me more about your experience, sweetheart.”

You blink at him, eyes feeling heavy, heart feeling heavy. “I’d prefer it if you called me by my name.”

Ren lets out a coo, and you briefly glance at Kai who’s shaking his head with a sigh. “My bad, y/n. Your experience?”

Your hands play with the folder sitting in your lap. “I started writing screenplays for small-scale directors when I was a freshman, and was greenlit on a couple into my sophomore year. One of the films I worked on, I had directing credits for, and it was nominated for best screenplay at Etoile Film Festival the year following.”

Ren swallows slightly, shifting in his chair and pushing his shoulders back, like he’s trying to establish himself now. Kai is clenching a fist on the surface of the table.

Ren clears his throat before speaking again. “Wow, okay, so you’ve actually got some serious shit going on.” His voice is a faux octave deeper. “What do you know about being a good assistant? Ever worked in customer service? Secretary?”

“Oh, I mean I have worked in customer service, but I wasn’t done sharing about my experience—” you try to say but Junichi cuts you off.

“First round’s on me,” he declares, “for bringing her out here.” He tips his chin to you and then sends Kai a glance.

A waitress brings by a bottle of sake, and Junichi begins pouring drinks into the glasses, then slides them across the table. Kai gives Ren a pointed look. 

“Don’t get too wasted,” Kai says to him as he brings his glass to his lips, “you start running that mouth of yours a little too much when you do.”

Ren grins at him and immediately knocks down the glass Junichi barely finished pouring from him in one go, and the gruff man beside him is grumbling. “Whatever you say.”

Something had been bothering you since you came here. “Wait,” you say, pointing between Kai and Ren, “do you two know each other already? Because,” you turn to look at Kai, “on the phone earlier, you sounded like you didn’t.”

Kai’s eyebrows raise in surprise, as though he’s discovered you have some skill for foresight. You glance at Ren, and he gives Kai a puzzled look.

“Uh, yeah. I’ve known Kai for years,” he says, “we go way back. We went to highschool together.”

Kai shifts a little in his chair. “Sorry. Probably forgot to mention it.”

You glance down at the glass of sake in front of you, and the way it twinkles under the lighting of the bar. You slowly bring it to your mouth, taking a small sip, and the way it coats your tongue is less than pleasing. 

“Can you tell me more about the assistant position?” you ask Ren, who’s emptied out the bottle of sake and waving someone over to order more. He already has a slightly flush to his face.

“Yeah, yeah, will do,” he says, “but first, let me tell you about what I do in visuals.”

Another round of sake is dropped by, and then another, followed by another, as Ren continues to ramble on and on about what he does for work, and how it’s entirely integral to the final piece of the film, although you’ve never really had a terrible level of appreciation for visual effects in short-film craft, since it’s hardly much work. But you wouldn’t say that, you just continue to nurse your one glass of sake as the three men surrounding you knock back more and more, and there’s slurs to their speeches now.

“Sooo, I’m so sorry, sweetheart—I mean y/n, for cuttin’ you off earlier,” he says, “but what was that experience you wanted to talk to me about?” Ren asks from across the table, and his eyes are all traveling over you.

“I…” you start, “well, I started to work with one of my professors last year, she’s a two-time Cannes Film Festival winner, and she let me under her wing for one of her projects last year.”

“Who is she? Oh wait, nevermind, probably wouldn’t have heard of her anyways,” Ren says, but when you fail to laugh, he waves his hand in the air. “Joking, joking. What’s her name?”

“Naoko. Naoko Ogigami.”

“Oh shit. I have heard of her,” Ren says, followed by a shallow hiccup. Junichi shrugs his shoulders, and when you look at Kai, he’s nodding slowly and toying with the rim of his glass with a finger.

“Yes. Well, anyways—” you start up again, before Kai sets his glass of sake down particularly loud.

“This is all bullshit. Really. I told you, filmmaking is a waste of time. Just focus on your photography, and your freelance or whatnot,” Kai says, grit to his jaw, face looking red with possibly something other than just a tipsiness. 

Ren lets out a laugh. “Fuckin’ Kai. What a pessimist. Don’t listen to him, sweetheart,” he says, slurred, and you furrow your brow at him with a glare, “sorry. Don’t listen to him. Trust me, you’ll learn a lot under Mr. Ko. He’s a suuuper nice guy.”

“What’s the compensation?” you ask. It’s a brazen question, one you’d never ask so soon in a formal interview process, but this table was hardly anything formal.

“Real good. Mmm I think like…5200 yen an hour, and then also, you get your foot in the door.”

“Oh,” you sit up a little in your chair. It was higher than most entry-level anything for undergraduates or even new grads. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he drawls when he sees you’re more interested. “Good stuff. Kai used to pick these kinds of jobs up, too, back in his college days. I remember. Although, he’s hardly Mr. Ko’s type, so I doubt he’d be any good for this one.”

Your head snaps to Ren again at his words, face tensing. 

“Tell her about what a job like this—hic—entails,” Ren says as he extends his glass out for Junichi to pour him another.

Kai glances at Ren once, and you watch him grind his teeth for a moment, and then there’s a hint of a smirk on his face.

“Oh. Y’know, clerical work. Stuff like printing scripts out,” Kai starts, Junichi filling up his glass and then he raises it into the air to watch the liquid swish around, “grabbing him coffee. Making sure his trailer is stocked.”

“Blowing him in said trailer,” Ren says. It’s something quiet, under his breath with a small laugh, where you could barely hear it across the table. But you heard it nonetheless. And your heart sinks to the core of the earth.

“Excuse me?” you say. The benefit of doubt sitting on your shoulder, watching in disbelief as well.

“He’s joking,” Kai says, quickly, “runnin’ his mouth.”

“Oh fuck off, Kai,” Ren says, throwing his hands up in the air, “don’t act like that’s not why you brought her here.”

Your head slowly turns to Kai, who can’t meet your gaze. Your eyes flicker to Junichi, who looks amused. 

Ren leans over the table, elbows resting on top, to look you straight in the eyes. He’s got a sleazy smile, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath, and he dips his tone down low enough to where you can hardly hear it over the sounds surrounding you in the bar. “That’s how you’ll make it in this industry, sweetheart. Whether you like it or not, you’ll be working under those directors until you make it.”

You stand up so fast that your chair falls behind you, hand raised in the air, and you swiftly slap the man across from you so hard across the cheek that it leaves his skin even more red than the flush from before, and your palm is stinging. 

There’s gasps all around the bar, hushed voices, eyes on you, but you don’t care. There’s not a single thing in the world you care more about right now than the anger swelled in your chest.

Ren holds his cheek, surprised, blinking like a pathetic animal. He almost looks like he’s about to cry, and you let out a scoff at the sight.

You turn to face Kai, whose eyes are wide and he’s staring up at you. Your fists are clenched at your side.

“Is this why you brought me here tonight?” you ask. Your voice is trembling, anxiety at the wake, the white anger spotting your vision. But there’s also pain. So much pain, and you’re just so fed up with all of it. “Because your belittling, condescending words weren’t enough to tear my hopes apart, so you had to humiliate me in front of your friends instead?”

Kai holds his hand up. “Woah, Canon, relax. He was just joking—…” Kai glances at Ren, who’s still holding his cheek and biting down on his lip, and then his gaze hardens. “Y’know what? It’s about fucking time you get this wake-up call, y/n. I’ve been trying to do the nice thing to steer you in the right direction, and the least you could—”

“Steer me in the right fucking direction?!” you’re yelling now, registering the way your voice echoes in the bar. “You know what I think this is all about, Kai?” You grit your teeth, “You’re a sick, stupid, sexist fuck who didn’t have the balls to go after what he wanted. So miserably pathetic that you’ve got no other fucking business than to pull people down to your level.”

Kai pinches his eyebrows together, hand on the table clenching into a fist. 

You lean down closer, an exasperated scoff leaving your lips. “Why don’t you go be his assistant instead? Since I’m sure you’re good at taking it up the ass.”

Kai’s eyes twitch, “you fucking—”

You grab his glass off the table and throw the alcohol into his face, eliciting another round of noises around the bar, and his mouth falls agape in shock before he gets up out of his chair, hand reaching out to grab for you. You close your eyes shut with a flinch to expect pain. Any sort of pain. But you don’t feel anything at all.

When you open your eyes, you see Gojo standing to your left, veins of his arm tense with the tight grip he has on Kai’s forearm, and you can see he’s practically shaking with rage. He steps in front of you, guarding, and you can’t see the expression on his face, but the fear in Kai’s eyes is enough to say it all.

“That’s enough,” he says, the clench of his jaw evident through the strain in his voice, “try to put your hands on her again, and I’ll split your fucking face in half.”

You can see Kai’s breathing pick up from where you’re peering over Gojo’s shoulder, and then Gojo shoves him backwards right as Choso kicks the fallen chair to his feet so he trips over it backwards then hits the ground with a loud and indignant thud.

Gojo’s hovering over Kai, his hands shoved in his pockets as he glares down at him, while Geto and Nanami put space between you and the other two men at your table. You feel a searing flush to your cheeks. You’re breathing fast, the peering eyes all around you are scrutinizing, looking at you with surprise, confusion, shock, and pity. Your mind is racing, and you wonder what your parents would think of all this. What your friends would think of all of this. What the people who support you would think of the fucked up situation you’ve found yourself in, and the humiliation courses so deep through your veins that you just want to run away and hide. The ground could swallow you whole right now, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

You take one step back, then another, before you turn on your heel to rush out the door into the night, and you barely register that it’s raining. You can feel your heart thumping fast in your chest and in your head, that familiar knot in your throat twisting tight as you walk fast down the street and ignore Gojo’s call of your name from behind you.

You don’t want to see anyone right now. You don’t want to be seen by anyone right now. Especially Gojo, of all people, because he was right about everything, and the fact that you had shut him down about it, and the way that you had shut him down about it makes your head numb and your breathing pick up fast.

“y/n,” you hear him call out from behind you, his pace is getting faster and so you’re resorting to longer strides as well, puddles of water splashing under your feet with every step, “just wait—”

“I’m seriously,” you start, and the tears begin to fall, “I’m seriously so, so, so, so, so fucking embarassed right now,” you gasp out the words with no air left in your lungs to breathe as you continue to run away from him, “so please, just leave me alone.”

You can picture it all in your head. Something like I told you so from his lips, because after what you’ve been put through tonight, you just want to assume the worst in people.

But just as you round the corner into an alley, feeling lost with the sight of a dead end, you feel a hand wrap around your arm and then you’re being pulled into an embrace.

Your eyes are blinking with tears streaming, your face buried in a chest that is warm, with a heart beating so fast that it’s keeping time with your own, and the fragrance that surrounds you is so painfully him that it makes you sob even more.

Strong arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and Gojo rests his chin at the top of your head. “I’m sorry,” he says softly, and you can feel the rumble of his voice, “I just needed to stop you from running.”

Your arms are weakly raised, an outline over his torso but not yet grabbing on, until you hesitantly do. And when you hold onto him, it’s so tight and strong, and you realize that after everything between the two of you, it’s the first time you’ve been wrapped in his arms.

“I feel so stupid,” you start, already hating the words because you want to be stronger right now, but you can’t.

“You’re not stupid,” he quickly corrects you, “those guys are fucking insecure losers. You’re just trying your best. You always have, for as long as I’ve known you, and it’s something you should be proud of yourself for.”

You don’t know what to say to him, you just cling to the damp fabric of his shirt in the rain.  

“Things are going to work out for you, no matter what, because I know you’ve got what it takes and you’re willing to work hard for it,” he says, his chin nuzzling so you’re tucked into him even further, “and if things don’t work out, that’s okay, you’re strong and you’ll always get back up. And I want to be there to help you through everything.”

You pull your face from his chest to stare up at him, droplets of rain falling to your face and making you flinch occasionally. “I’m confused.”

His hand comes up to cup your face, swiping at a tear on your cheek, or maybe it was rain. “I thought that—” he starts, his thumb briefly running over the small cut still healing on your cheek, his brow furrowing, “I thought that I’d be okay with watching your life from afar, through cropped pictures on a screen,” he says, a chill running through you, “but I can’t. It’s killing me. And I’m really sorry that it took me this long to tell you this, but I like you so much and I really want to be with you.”

Your eyes widen at his words, and you don’t know how to feel. You push your face into his chest again. His thumb runs circles at your side through the dampness of your shirt.

“There are a lot of reasons I didn’t feel like I could date you, or show up for you,” he says, “but the pain of not getting to be with you, of not getting to hold you, and just share my life with you is way worse than whatever reasons I kept trying to convince myself of.”

You nod slowly, because there was a part of you deep inside that knew that all along. 

His grip on you relaxes slightly and you take that as a request from him for you to look up at him, so you do. “I know I’ve put you through a lot of pain, and I’m really not a perfect person, but if there’s room in your heart to forgive me, I promise you that I’ll do everything I can to make you feel happy and cared for.”

Your eyes study his face for sincerity. They’re words you’ve been wanting to hear, words you could’ve pictured in your head, but the adoration in his eyes makes you realize you never could’ve imagined the true sweetness of those words when they’re said from him.

You press your cheek to his chest again. You’re not crying anymore. “I’m sorry for what I said to you earlier. About kicking a soccer ball, and having it easy,” you bite down on your lip, because now there’s tears in your eyes again, “I didn’t mean it.” You sniffle a little, “I know you work hard. And it was a really mean thing to say.”

He sighs, holding you flush to himself. His cheek presses against the top of your head. “That’s okay, you don’t have to apologize for that.”

“But I do.”

There was no grudge at all. There was nothing withdrawn from you, nothing taken away as punishment. He just held onto you, exactly as you are, and you felt so safe in every second you spent in his arms.

You look up at him again. His hair is damp, strands clinging to his face in all the places they usually fall over, droplets of rain falling from his fringe onto your face and he does everything he can to wipe them away. “It’s too late,” you tell him, and he immediately knows what you’re referring to.

He just holds you closer. “I know.”

“I don’t have feelings for you anymore,” you say through a sniffle.

He knows you’re lying, and that you say it just out of spite, but he holds your head to his chest. “I know.”

“You’ll have to beg and grovel, and even then, I might not like you ever again,” you say, gripping so tightly onto his shirt for purchase, your voice sounding muffled as you breathe in the scent of him. “That’s your punishment.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head. A firm press of his lips, lasting as he takes a few deep breaths. And then he kisses the same spot again, staying still in that position as he repeats himself.

“I know.”

--

a/n. phewww thank you for reading, i swear, this chapter felt like a goddamn war to write. my emotions were all over the damn place, i think cause i wrote from a place of bitter experience lol. i dedicate this chap to my lovely friend she’s a film major (she inspired me to create this story) and i srs wouldn’t be able to write kickoff without her 😭💕 dear M♥︎, i thought of you sm while writing this chapter, i can only hope i’ve captured even the slightest bit of the understanding i will always aim to have of you, and that you feel seen. i’m incredibly proud of you, always rooting for you, so often thinking of you, and terribly missing you so much rn (plsssssss visit meee😩💔 ) dedicated w sm love 💕 -bitchasshoe this chapter is also dedicated to anyone who’s going through a hard times n maybe just trying to figure themselves out :”) i am so proud of you, you should be so proud of yourself, there’s still so much to live and learn, and i hope the universe blesses you w everything you’ve ever wanted!! big thank u to my lovely m00t @quinnyundertow she pulled me out of my writers block for this chapter and also beta read a lot of it for me there’s only three chapters left for kickoff (i’m gonna cry just thinking ab it :”)) which doesnt sound like a lot but there’s still a lot i’ve got planned 😭 i’m just noticing that i very poorly planned the second half of this series. chapters 1-6 combined have less words than chapters 7-9 combined 😅✨ sooooo i may increase the chapters from 12 to 14 by splitting them up to make it easier on me, or just stick to the plan and come out with long chapters like the last two. idk. i’ll figure it out. thank u to everyone for reading i love you all dearly 😭💕 i’ll see you in the next one!!

➸ take me to chapter ten!

➸ wrote some kickoff headcanons here

--

taglist: @who-can-touch-my-boob @therealestpussyeater @lost-resonance @hojoslutoru @foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @bsdicinindirdim @tsukikourito @getitsatoru @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @btszn @prince-wyiilder @semra4 @gojosimp26 @drthymby @ninitoru @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010 @bakuhoethotski @horisdope @sykostyles @aquaberrydolphin @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @ri-sa20 @purplehallow11 @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @bxddiebloss @chwesuh-imnida @mo0nforme @viware @still-fking-single @megumisthirdog @gintokhi @karvokr @cierocanteat @imjustaweirdnerd @ronniebird @bloopsstuff @mwtsxri @witchbybirth @tetsuski @fffinskye @gh0ulkz @beabadobeee @mandysfanfics @erencvlt @laviefantasie @sukunamylovexoxo @girlkissersco @itzjuliana @yell0wdreams @1dimas7 @strayedjeno @mo0nforme @yungbloode @sullybrothersmate @oaooaoaoaoa @swagangelllamawolf @banenemilk @inniesblog

(hope i didn't miss anyone thank u all sm!!)

[maximumzombiecreator]

I've seen a lot of posts recently where people say they can't find players to play non-5e TTRPGs with. As someone who moves countries every few years, I've had to rebuild my roster of local TTRPG players from scratch a number of times. Here's how I do it.

Caveats first: while I've done this in small cities, I have always done it in cities. If you're in, like, a rural environment, you might just not have enough interested people around. You can always do it online in that case. I'm not really going to cover finding players online, except to say you should probably look for communities for the specific system you want to play. Most of them are enthusiastically looking for new participants. Especially game masters.

Okay, first things first, you gotta find people. I generally find I get better results if the search is location first. That is, rather than using city-wide or regional Looking For Group type internet groups, I look for physical locations that host gaming groups. Local game stores, public libraries, gaming cafes/bars, etc.

Being location first helps avoid some common bad behaviours. Online LFG groups often have a few shitty people hanging around who can't find long term groups because they're shitty. They'll jump at the opportunity to join new groups where people don't know them, because everyone else knows better than to game with them. But location-based groups are better at filtering this. Someone who harasses people at an LGS can be banned from the store, but decentralized online groups struggle to handle these situations in my personal experience.

Being location first also solves the next problem, which is giving you a location to play. Eventually, when I have a long term group, I'll host games in my home. But there needs to be a level of trust before that feels safe, and we're looking for randoms, so for now we need a public gaming venue. If, for whatever reason, there aren't dedicated gaming spaces where you can do this, I've had the most success gaming in cafes or restaurants during off peak hours. I've run a bunch of games in restaurants from, like, 2pm-5pm on a Saturday, and as long as you're buying drinks and some snacks or something, and being polite and non-disruptive, it's typically not too hard to get permission.

Now, if that local group has enough interest in a non-5e system that I'm interested in running, I'll happily do that, and it's pretty free from there. Most people who are willing to play one other system will gladly try others if they find they like playing with you. But even in big cities, I feel it's pretty often the case that postings for local games of other systems don't wind up actually finding successful groups.

So, here is the bit where, unfortunately, finding people to play non-5e games with involves playing some 5e. Community groups are always looking for more GMs to run games, so I will set out to run a number of short 5e adventures, each with different groups. These are typically oneshots that I have the option of extending for another 1 or 2 sessions.

I always run adventures that I've written myself for these, because I want my particular GMing style to really come through. Looking for players is a two way street. I'm looking for people I like GMing for, but I'm also looking to make sure they know what they're getting. Especially if I'm going to ask them to play a system they've never tried, they should know that there's going to be something they enjoy. So, these short adventures are full of the types of silly but sincere NPCs I tend to run, the open-ended scenarios I prefer, the tropes I favour, etc. If someone isn't going to enjoy playing with me, I want them to know it from this adventure.

I structure the adventures to give me a lot of flexibility in terms of how long they run. They're nearly always mysteries, but with some active component to the mystery, so that if things drag or dawdle I can have the villain show up and force a final confrontation. They're also structured to have a natural "next thing." You find and defeat the villain, but there's an implied next villain you'll be going after. That way, if the group is working well and I want to continue, it's easy to present the option to the group. But if I'm not interested in continuing with the group, the next thing can just serve as an "and the adventures continue" implied epilogue, and the game still feels complete.

I don't like players just bringing their own character sheet to the table. Someone who brings a disruptive character can ruin a session without me getting much useful information out of it, other than that I don't want to play with that person. And if it ruins the experience for the other players, I'm often out the opportunity to game with those people, through neither of our faults. I've experimented with both asking players to submit their characters in advance or making them choose between a collection of premade characters. The former is a good check for whether people will put in a basic amount of effort and follow instructions, but it can dissuade people who are just looking to dip their toes into playing for the first time. The latter can turn off players who are into crunchy games and are excited about character building. As a result, I'll usually choose the approach based on what non-5e system I'm currently most excited about running. Do I want to get together a group for a rules-light game? Premade characters it is. Looking to run some PF2e? Please submit your character sheet in advance. Some locations also do more drop-in based games, in which case it's premades all day.

As I'm running the game, I'm observing the players. There's a simple vibe check, obviously. Do I like playing with this person? But I'm also looking at how they play. What are they here for, what's exciting them? Are they struggling with finding optimal turns in combat, or do they like mastering a system? Are they curious about the world, or do they glaze over when the spotlight isn't on them? Do they light up in dialogue scenes? Do they want to try crazy things outside of their on-sheet abilities? Remember, later, I'm going to try to persuade this person to try to play a game they've never played before. I need to know what specifically is going to excite them.

I have (always with permission) recorded sessions before to go over in making these choices, but honestly even just a few small reminder notes will help me unravel things later. If a session goes well, I'll ask at the end for people to give me their contact information if they'd be interested in playing again. Non-committal, at their comfort, and it doesn't single out people that I don't want to play with. I can always just not call them. Usually I find I'm interested in playing again with a little more than half of the players I meet this way. In my experience, it's fairly rare for a player to say they're not interested in playing again, TTRPGs rule and there's a DM shortage.

What I usually do is keep running these until I have enough people in mind to run something else, even if it isn't the system I'm most excited about. Probably it would be better to spend more time in this starter phase building up more connections, but after running like 4-5 5e adventures, I'm usually more than ready to run anything else, and if I have to shelve my Lancer ideas because I've mostly found crunch-averse players, I'm usually fine with that.

So, next comes the invites. Now, most players I meet this way will eventually be open to playing most games, but listen: you can put people well out of their comfort zone for their third TTRPG, but you gotta be real careful with their second. Most of the time, the game I'm inviting people to will be their first real exposure to a non-5e TTRPG. If they don't like it, they will run back to the safety of 5e and you will never get them out of it again. So I am very careful in picking the right system for the players I am inviting.

Whatever the new system I want to run is, I will set up a pilot session for it. I am very clear to players that I will teach them the system at the session, they do not need to know it in advance. Eventually, when I have a reliable group of TTRPG people to play with, I'll expect them to be able to pick up systems without a ton of help, but for players that are only used to the complexity of 5e, the idea of learning a new system is daunting. I rehearse the teaching of the game session. It's the only thing for TTRPGs I ever rehearse, but I want to know down pat how I'm going to quickly teach a new system and make it feel approachable and non-threatening. I'm also very clear that this will be a single session, with the possibility of turning into a campaign if we like it. All of this is structured to feel very safe. No initial learning required, no long term commitment, with a GM you already know you like.

But even as safe as that is, you still have to pitch the system. Why should the player be excited about playing this new game? Don't go all TTRPG nerd on them and explain all the details of the system, or use a bunch of jargon. Give them one or two things to be excited about with short, detailed anecdotes to back them up.

"We're going to be playing Blades in the Dark. It's a game where you play a gang of criminals in a haunted, steampunk dystopia. Every session you'll do heists, but instead of meticulously planning them, you start right in the action, and when you need to have planned for something, you can do a flashback scene to explain your preparation. One group I ran this for got busted by guards during an early heist, but used a flashback to create a scene where they had gotten a buddy of theirs a job as one of the guards, and he helped them out of the situation. And for some reason they fell in love with this bumbling goof I improvised to be the buddy, and then on a bunch of future jobs they kept using flashbacks to get him jobs wherever they were robbing. So this one idiot was just a de-facto crew member who worked a dozen different inside jobs despite being about as sharp as an eraser. And eventually they fucked up and got him killed, but they brought him back as a ghost, because you can do that in Blades in the Dark."

I find using a specific example of play really helps get peoples' imaginations going, which is what is going to help them say yes. And that example is tailored to what I know that player vibes with, what it is I think that makes them a good fit for this game.

The last detail about the invites is that I'm telling them, not asking them. It is not, "Hey, are you interested in playing this new game?" It's "I'm going to be running this new game. If you're interested in playing, please let me know what times work for you." If you're asking, you're going to get some "well but can it be 5e?" If you're telling, then they can choose to learn a new game in order to keep playing TTRPGs with a GM they know they like, or they can choose not to play at all.

Once you get enough yesses for a game, you run it, and then from there you're on your own. I think those are basically just friends you have at that point, and I'm not gonna tell you how to have friends.

Hopefully at least one person finds all that useful!

[tteokdoroki]

Isagi is golden retriever behavior. Tell him to bakr he will do it. Tell him to kneel he will. He will protect you with his whole being even if he seems to be nice guy. He isn’t afraid to throw hand s

*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— as close as strangers + yoichi isagi.

૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — while at a bar with your sister, a stranger comes to your rescue and he’s not afraid to come to your defence.

⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up to 20s, fluff, strangers to lovers, meet cute, reader has a younger sister, weird men at bars (harassment kinda? but it’s minor), pro player!isagi, fem!reader - not beta read !

⭑ words — 1.4K.

⭑ notes — thank you nonnie for sending this in!! I got a little itty bit carried away but i hope you like it !! - m.list ✩

unironically, a bar can be one of the most dangerous places on earth. with its overpriced and watered down drinks, loud and disruptive patrons, and not to mention the countless number of men that can’t seem to take a hint. you find the sticky table tops gross and the peanut shells on the floor uncouth but you’re here for your little sister — who wanted no more than drinks and to catch up, filling you in on the details of her latest fling (who she’s sure is the one, despite it being the fifth time) since you returned to Japan.

you work a lot, you travelled abroad for college too so it’s been ages since you’ve last breathed the same air and walked underneath the same sky. you’d feel bad for missing this opportunity to meet someone important in her life while you still had it.

and you love your sister, so while she powders her nose in the bathroom as you both wait for her boy toy, you’ll put up with the stench of beer and the sleazy stranger arms length away from you who just can’t seem to get it through his head that you’re not interested.

“c’mon sweetheart, just one drink. lemme buy you a beer.” the stranger slurs over the top of his own beverage that threatens to spill into you as he encroaches on your personal space. 

shaking your head politely, you lean away. “no thank you. i’m not to keen on beer.” 

“then whas’ your drink of choice, cutie. let me know what i can get’cha.” 

nothing. you refrain from rolling your eyes. nothing that he could afford. grabbing a handful of peanuts to distract yourself, you de-shell them with ease and chew on them to avoid speaking any further. 

“no thank you.” you say plainly, reiterating yourself. 

he still doesn’t seem to understand, cosying up to your side — his alcohol tainted breath cascading over the shell of your ear. “then let’s get out of here, i’ll get you somethin’ you can really enjoy.” 

“i’m waiting on someone.” 

“who? a boyfriend?” 

“yes,” you lie as easy as breathing — you’re almost certain he wouldn’t leave you alone if he found out you were with your sister. “he’ll be here any minute.” 

the stranger lets out a chuff, “i don’t see him, gorgeous girl—“

he reaches for your hand and it causes a wave of uncomfortable goosebumps to rise along your skin. you shudder, hold back a gag, and if only the bartender was closer you could signal for some form of help but you can’t bring yourself to move.

that is until a warm arm slips around your shoulders— and instead of being slimy and unsettling, the presence of this stranger behind you is comforting and safe. “there you are precious,  sorry for being so late, i got caught up with work.” this man’s is smoothe like molten chocolate or rather honey running through your ears, and you find yourself enticed — leaning into him as if he’s a safety net. 

you turn, only just, catching a glimpse of the stranger’s handsome side profile — his skin is golden, glowing as if it had been blessed by the god’s of the son. his eyes are a blue im a shade that you cannot match, it’s almost unreal to you. his hair his soft, his face calm and again, he feels so safe. 

“i missed you,” you breathe the words into existence as if they’re natural, allowing a smile to overtake your features. “it’s okay.” 

the dark haired man gives you a firm nod before looking over your head at the drunkard who had been bothering you. he offers a hand to him. “hi isagi… the boyfriend. do we have a problem, here?” 

you recognise the name from somewhere but say nothing, letting isagi handle the situation from here. 

“n-no sir! i-i’m so sorry i didn’t realise that—“ 

“good,” isagi’s voice lowers an octave, far less welcoming and kind than when he had initially addressed you as your fake boyfriend. “then next time you’ll take a hint and learn to leave women alone when they tell you no the first time. fucking creep.” he spits, squeezing you into his side protectively. 

the stranger’s eyes blow wide and he lowers his head apologetically but you’re too focused on how flustered isagi’s whole act is making you feel. “a-again! i’m really sorry! i’m a huge fan i would never—“ 

“are you just that dense or do i have to repeat myself? scram.” isagi growls once more and does so until the man that had been bothering you flees the scene. within an instant, the tall dark and handsome man jumps away from you with an apologetic smile — and you embarrassingly admit to yourself how much you miss his embrace. “i am so sorry for touching you without asking. i-it’s just that i could see he was making you uncomfortable and no one else was jumping in so i just—“ 

turning around to face isagi fully, you shake your head and offer him your brightest grin. “it’s okay, if it hadn’t been for you i don’t know what would have happened. thank you…”

you pause to give him time and isagi trips over his words to give you his full name. “yoichi. yoichi isagi!” 

you respond with your own name, trying not to dwell on the familiarity of his. 

the pair of you spend the next few minutes chatting about everything and anything. you find out that yoichi likes soccer and has since he was a child. that he was an only child as well, travels a lot and has seen the whole world, though he thinks it gets a little lonely. you shyly admit that you feel the same — especially when work drags you across the globe and away from your family here in Japan.

the flow of your conversation is only interrupted by your little sister emerging from the bathroom excitedly, her nose effectively powdered as she waves an arm at you. “i see you’ve met isagi already!” she beams, sliding into the bar stool on your left while isagi takes your right.

“wait, you two know each other?” you squeak — how mortifying would it be that your younger sibling’s new boyfriend is the man you’ve been crushing on for all of fifteen minutes. “is he…the one?” 

the duo share an amused look over the drinks that your new friend had ordered, your sister shaking you as if to snap you out of your trance of crazy. “god no! isagi is way too polite to be my type. my bachira is a little more adventurous!” she rambles, all love sick like. “no offence yoichi!”

“none taken,” he laughs before focusing all of his attention on you , making you squirm under the surface of his ocean blue eyes. “i’m just here for moral support. bachira was nervous about meeting you so i told him to take a lap around the parking lot to calm down before he came in.” 

“wait bachira— as in meguru bachira? that one player from the blue lock team? i just styled him for my magazine in the US last month? that’s who you’re dating?” you ramble, eyes wide — which only seems to amuse isagi even more.

“uhuh, and this,” your sister grabs you by the shoulders and rotates you to face isagi, who’s cheeks flush red with nervousness. or shyness. “is yoichi isagi. blue lock’s heart and soul and your date for this evening. you’re welcome!” she sings.

“oh my god! i thought i recognised you! s-she used to have posters of you in our room back when bluelock was streaming!” 

“you’re the one that used to kiss them!” 

“you’re the one that’s dating his best friend!” you counter her stubbornly, but her attention is quickly stolen away by the world famous dribbler that slips through the doors — bachira’s own face lighting up when he spots her from across the room. your sister melts, running over and jumping into his arms. you can’t help but swoon, realising that whatever she has going on with bachira is obviously more serious than whatever chance at love she’d had before.

they look happy. you’re happy for her. “they’re cute together, aren’t they?” isagi mumbles, elbowing you gently with the wisps of a smile on his lips. 

“oh yeah, big time.” you agree, taking a sip of your drink as you scoot closer to japan’s beloved striker. “you’re not mad that he swiped her from right beneath your feet?” 

“nah,” yoichi responds simply, scooting closer to you as well. you let your gaze drift over from the happy couple to meet isagi’s fond one, looking down at you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world. “i’d rather have that kind of happy with the girl who was making out with my merch.” 

you punch isagi in the shoulder out of embarrassment, and when his timbre laughter fills the room — you can’t help but think you’d want that happiness with him too.

[olderthannetfic]

Hi, Ah weird question? So the default of fandoms usually is 'ship and let ship' right? Meaning even if you hate a ship you'll not harass the person, right? Now I'm asking this as someone who always headcanon and ship characters as queer. Here is this situation that I'm in right now: apparently a friend of mine who also agrees with 'SALS', found out another friend of theirs(A) used a mod to romance a queer character in a not queer way, you know what I mean? So then my friend called A queerphobic, they then fought and they are not talking right now. My friend came to me and told me about this, apparently expecting me to be as angry as them(I'm also queer/pan btw) and well I wasn't? Because why should I care what they ship or better say, how A chooses to romance characters. I suggested to my friend to talk to A about it and well, this made them more angry? I mean yeah it's awful when someone denies a character being queer in canon. But as far as I know A is not doing that? Now they are angry with me too although we still talk.....Am I in the wrong here? What should I do?

--

Using mods to make every NPC player-sexual is perfectly fine.

I get that it can be upsetting to see people "taking away" your few queer characters, but they're not actually taking them away. That friend is being unreasonable.

I'm not sure the default actually is SALS these days, but it ought to be.

Your friend may come back around to this once they calm down... or they may continue to be upset and think that being upset is a sign that something is morally wrong and not just a personal reaction.

I would avoid the topic with them for now. If they insist on talking about it, you can compare it to letting people ship ships you find gross. It's fine to keep finding them gross! But you shouldn't dump or attack friends over that.

This is, in general, a very touchy subject for a lot of queer people. Bob & Rose got a massive amount of hate despite reportedly being based on some real experiences. One Exception happens even IRL and even to people who thought they were gay... but it feels like talking about it gives ammo to shitheads who think they're going to be your one exception or that we should send teens to conversion camp.

So I get why people freak out about this, but... well... they need to chill when it comes to some friend smashing the barbie dolls together the wrong way.

[fantasticarcadefan]

Teyvat and the Ascended

Pt 1: Call of the void

Warning: Likely OOC!, Mentions of death, religious worship, emotional breakdown, bad descriptions.

Gn! Reader

Pt 1: Call of the void

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How long has it been since you awoke to this nightmare? Weeks? Months? A Year? You didn't know anymore.Ever since you found yourself in Teyvat, you were hunted all across the land for baring the semblance of the "creator" that you never heard of. From the fields of Mondstadt, to the mountains of Liyue, to the islands of Inazuma, from Sumeru's forests to Fontaine's outskirts, you found yourself wanted dead all across Teyvat. But with help from Teyvat, the wildlife, and a select few, you've managed to make it out alive most of the time, but you do eventually find yourself dead, only to wake up in a different nation, with the scars and pain of old wounds still there. Most of your hunters seemed eager to earn the favor of your impersonator, yet, a handful of them seemed reluctant, and showed signs of remorse for their actions, before either ending you, or leaving you for dead. All the while, the imposter sits all high and mighty.

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After your most recent death, you found yourself in the desert of Sumeru, early at night. Needing to find shelter before your pursuers and the blazing sun catch up to you, you begin your journey to a nearby mountain that you see, hoping to take refuge in a cave there before your hunt begins again. The pain from your last death still there, broken legs and a claymore piercing and exiting your stomach. Your clothes are mostly the ones you wore when you arrived here held together by a bunch of stitches from other pieces of clothing. As you walk there, you can't help but wonder 'what did I do to deserve this'?' It didn't make any sense. You tended to help people out by helping newer players with bosses they were stuck on, often helping your parents in cleaning your home, and volunteering at parks or soup kitchens and helped organize events in your community.

But if someone did something to help piss you off like harassing you or your loved ones, god help them.

For those that drew your ire on earth, it was like them awakening a bear and filling it with strife. You would insult every feature of them mercilessly. From the way they looked, all the way to their desires, you'd insult them so damagingly that they'd feel that till the end of their life and all the way to their next one if they reincarnated. That's assuming that they don't make you get physical. Cause one time when one of your siblings was being harassed and stalked by one of their bullies, let's just say that the bullying stopped shortly afterwards with the stalker losing some major functions of their body. And in order to ensure your siblings were safe when you were gone, you taught them some stuff you knew about their bullies and means of self-defense.

As you walked closer to the mountain, trying to find a reason for this and thinking about your old life, you couldn't help but think about your first days in Teyvat, waking up on the same beach that the traveller did at the start of the game, and finding yourself with a different height, around 6'2 feet tall or around 188 centimeters. With you being innocent and hopeful, wanting to explore the land and see your favorite characters in person, you found those dreams wiped when you were intercepted by some members of the knights of favonius, who immediately began to hunt you, calling you an imposter and heretic. Scared and unsure, you decided to avoid the city, out of fear that the reaction would be the same from the patrol. As you ran from Monstadadt, you shortly after found yourself ambushed by another patrol, but was ambushed by a group of Hilichurls led by a Mitachurl, with it gesturing to you to run, before engaging in combat.

Your time in Liyue was just as bad, with you being hunted down by the Milleth and Adepti, only managing to survive through a series of vision malfunctions, staggering your would-be killers as you made your escape, luckily not running into Zhongli. It was during this chase that you learned of your look-alike, who was temporarily residing in the Jade Chamber of Nigguang while their palace was being built. Your stay there would take a turn for the worst, as you attempt to hide from the Milleth in a cargo crate by the docks, you find it being loaded onto a ship, heading for the land of eternity.

Knowing that the Archon would likely seek you out and execute you, you dove into the water as the islands came into sight, realizing that you moved faster and could breath underwater, with gills appearing on your neck and both your hands and feet becoming flippers as you swam to shore. In an attempt to enjoy the land of eternity, you found yourself a cloak that you could wear to conceal your face. Normally, it would've worked with mortals, but not with the nation's Archon, Raiden Ei. As soon as you landed ashore, she went out to pursue you, with Sara alerting her forces to start preparing for an execution and to be on alert for an imposter of their creator. And before you knew it, you found yourself headless in Inazuma City with a crowd cheering at your death, marking the end of your first life in Teyvat. Yet, as you rolled on the floor, you looked up to see thunder storms starting to form in mass, with you thinking 'Seems like one final fuck you to Inazuma' you thought, thinking you were finally free from this suffering.

Oh how wrong you were.

Over time, you'd become used to this, hiding from the zealots, living with the wildlife, and mostly staying alive. You'd discover that a handful of people were willing to help you, like Dainsleif, the abyss order, the traveller when you two were alone, , Nahida, Furina, Razor, Amber, Alice, Childe, and Neuvillete,to name some of the few, but would oddly call you your grace, the true god, or luprical in Razor's case, but you oddly noticed that some of your hunters had an aura of regret around them, like Venti, Kaeya, and Xiao. It was through those that helped you that you learned that the amount of vision holders was rapidly growing, especially among those that had participated in hunting you. Despite this, you've started to get used to your powers, you've been able to try and recreate the abilities of Avatar: the last Airbender and the legend of Korra to help you survive, but you don't bring this topic up with those that help you, out of fear for their safety, should others discover their new technique and how they learned it, and you not being sure others are listening to your conversations.

As you approached the mountain, you begin to talk to yourself, "Why me? Why?? I never wanted to be here! And if I did, I never wanted to overthrow Celestia or whoever is this creator! All I wanted to do was explore the land, make some friends with those here, and help those that needed it! What did I do wrong!!??" You yell as you enter the cave, resting on the wall of it, with tears starting to form and fall out of your eyes. "Is this what happens to the good people? Is this their fate? To suffer at the hands of those that you seek to care for!!??" You cry, with tears pouring out of your eyes as you finally break down due to the you've pain you've felt. The world tries to comfort you, rearranging your position so you're lying on the wall of the cave, with you feeling vibrations on your back as you cry, releasing the emotions you've held on this time. A geo slime comes from the cave entrance, and attempts to climb onto your shoulder, with it getting on your lap, and trying to climb onto you. Feeling the small slime's attempt to climb onto your shoulder and comfort you, you pat the slime like a pet, and rub the wall of the cave, "Th-Thank you both for b-being with me" you tell both the slime and the land in between sobs with the slime attempting to nuzzle into your neck,and the walls of the cave form a hand, with it resting and on your shoulder and rubbing it, trying to reassure you. You smile in comfort at the reassurance you had, making the pain from your last death get weaker. As you drift off into sleep, you can't help but wonder 'how much longer must this go on?'

When you awoke, the first thing you felt was the sensation of falling, before landing face first onto a metal floor. "Owww!" You yell on instinct to the non-existent pain. Wait, what? There should be pain from falling face first onto metal and where did the metal floor come from? Before you can do anything, an unknown female voice is heard, "Your Grace!" The voice says before rushing to your side and picking you up on the floor and to face her. A million thoughts run through your mind. 'Was the hunt in Teyvat a trial? Was it the beginning, have I finally gone insane? Is this th-' "Who did this to you?" The women's question interrupts your line of thought. As you are brought out of your head, you notice that she's wearing a golden chest plate which seems to fit with her shirt on top of it. Yet, you can't help but notice that on her elbow that the guard piece for her shoulder blade seems to be intertwined with her shirt, like it was one. Her hair is dyed a mix of teal and green with it pointing to the left side of her hair, with the right side shaved off, leaving a stubble there as it regrew, showing her natural black hair. Her face shows a mixture of fear, concern, and anger at the scars you've gained. Behind you, you hear multiple feet alongside something slimy moving in your direction, with a human voice yell out "Mary!" 'So that's your name,huh? You think,before moving your head to look at the new noises. As you turn your head to look behind you, you see a group of beings emerge from the door way ahead of you. The group, noticing you, stops their advance, before kneeling in front of you.

You go ahead and take a look at them from the top down, with the first beings you notice are three small floating clam like creatures, well, least without the lower half of with 8 tentacles total in various colors, with a common factor of near black by the front of the it's tentacles, with the first one having a dark blue shell and white lines on it's shell, the second one having a green shell with brown lines on it, and the third having a grey shell with white lines.Near the front of it you see a big black half of a ball on where your looking at, before you realize that the ball is a face, near the top of the doorway, which you think is, about 20 feet high. Under them, you see what appears to be a tall beetle with what appears to be two pincers on its back with its antennas on the top of its head, wearing red robes. In front of it, you see what appears to be a man who looks like some out of Hollywood with combed back hair and a stubbed beard and mustache, wearing a blue suit of sorts with golden dashes where the shoulder blades are. Next to him, you see a tall blue cybernetic elf in a red and white sweater, who's had his right arm replaced with an artificial limb. On the edges of his face and some parts of the top of his head, you notice that there are pieces of metal across his head, fitting in alongside his scales. His eyes are noticeably different, with them both being a bright blue light instead of there being eyes there. The smallest of the group was a bear cub on its hind legs, with it as tall as your knees. There seems to be a black goo surrounding each of them, yet it doesn't seem to be harming it, rather, it seems that the cub is using the parasite as arms. Unsure of their names for now, you decide to settle on making your own names for them until you find out their name. But before you can decide, the one who called your holder Mary talks to you, with him looking like his composure is about to break "Your grace, my name is Alexi Brown of the Ascended Species, those that you personally guided. It is an honor, to meet you."

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Greetings Readers, this is my first story here. If you have any ideas on how to improve, please post it in the comments, so I can improve it.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for kicking someone out of my D&D campaign for reasons not entirely related to the game?

This is long but the context is important I swear.

About a year ago, I (30X) tried to assemble a D&D group with my coworkers. After a whole lot of fucking around, the guy who was going to DM moving across the country, and a bunch of people quitting or getting fired, it ended up being me as the DM, my brother, a few other people who I met through a different campaign, and one guy who used to work with me.

This guy, J (23M), had a lot of personal problems when he worked for us, most of which contributed to him being let go. He had a lot of family issues that led to him missing a lot of work (and I mean A Lot. We have a Very good PTO system for the US that basically amounts to accruing one day off for every 50 hours you work, earning more the longer you stay with the company, and more allowance for attendance infractions than any company I've ever heard of in the states). He also had a lot of interpersonal issues with some of the employees, one in particular, K (21F), with whom he had some kind of situationship. I try not to get involved in work drama, so I don't know all the details.

J also has issues with money, transportation, and depression/suicidal tendencies. I'm not judging him for any of those, as I have experience with them as well, but he has been leaning on me pretty heavily around every time we hang out to play D&D. I would cover his 120$+ Uber rides home, which he would sometimes pay me back but sometimes not (if I couldn't afford it once a month, I wouldn't do it, but he insists he's going to pay me back; since he has lost yet another job I am not expecting it at all and don't hold it against him really, but I do think it's kind of shitty to insist you're going to when you clearly won't be able to), pay for his food, work with my family members to get him home, and let him crash at my house to avoid ordering an Uber. He also messaged me when he was feeling suicidal - bad enough to be institutionalized after I sent him the number for the suicide hotline. Again, no judgement, but it made me uncomfortable because I struggle with the same things. He seemed bothered that I told him I wasn't able to talk him through it, but that may have just been the crisis talking.

After all that, we come to a game session that involves more than just navigating dangerous spaces and fighting off wild animals. The rest of the party does fine, but J really botches the social interaction part, despite everyone telling him what he's doing is a bad idea and me doing my best as a DM to communicate that he should change tactics. He does not change tactics and instead doubles down and goes full murderhobo, which is not the kind of player I'm interested in playing with, something I thought J understood from previous conversations.

My original plan was to say something to the table at our next session about removing themselves from the game if the themes weren't something they were interested in engaging with, but then I get some additional info today about J and K.

Apparently J has been incredibly possessive towards K - someone who, again, he was not dating in any meaningful capacity - for weeks or months, to the point that she has blocked him on social media off and on. And then this past week, J has sent her screenshots of her location, contacted her ex who she still lives with for logistical reasons, made him upset to the point that K thought he was going to kick her out of his apartment, and harassed K's brother to try to get her to talk to him again. K is seriously considering taking out a restraining order against him at this point. J has also been updating his social media to imply that he is going to kill himself.

To say this behavior raises some red flags is an understatement. Clearly J needs help, but as a regular guy, that's really not something I'm able to provide beyond sending mental health hotlines, and I don't feel comfortable being his support system in the way he obviously needs.

All that said, I feel like I might be an asshole for kicking him out of the campaign full stop, because he's been really excited to play this whole time. But the combination of all this really worrisome, potentially dangerous behavior and the mundane reality of him just being a really annoying player kind of has me at my wits end, so, WIBTA?

What are these acronyms?

[time-is-restored]

okay like listen i know a lot of people have been talking abt this specific aspect of 3x3 already but. im just having a bit of a moment w the amount of lgbt ppl who saw trent's expression at the end there, and like. Knew.

like to be clear i am aware that at this point trent being gay is, at best, subtext + fanon. its incredibly beloved subtext, but its entirely possible that it could get blown out of the water in the coming episodes. but within the reading of trent being a gay man, seeing colin in that terrifying moment of exposure + vulnerability... that look says So much. its fear, its worry, its an instinctive protective response. its helplessness, its shame from feeling powerlessness, its the grim certainty that comes from knowing just how much is at stake.

(cw: discussion of homophobia + discrimination below. its long. i very much rambled.)

bc the thing that i personally keep coming back to is like. everyone on the team is colin's friend - his family, even, according to the themes of the show. the show is literally about the team + staff working together to break down their toxic/unhealthy behaviours and build up a culture of trust + respect. that's why i think it's so significant that while isaac is the one to use the word gay pejoratively, he's also the one checking in on colin when he gets moved to the bench. he's arguably colin's closest friend at the club! and that's not enough. the fact that the richmond club is made up of demonstrably good and well-intentioned people isn't enough.

don't get me wrong, its fucking terrifying + awful being closeted around ppl who are ACTIVELY bigoted and cruel and who u KNOW would be nothing less than awful to if u were out. but the uncertainty of being around people you love, and not knowing what would happen if you told them? of never truly being sure of your place in the dynamic, since there's always that risk hanging over your head? its exhausting, and terrifying.

because what if they aren't accepting? even avoiding the worst case scenario where his bosses (the coaches, higgins, rebecca - hell, even keely) don't outright cut his career short, he's obviously extremely aware of how being on the outs with the team could lead to his life being made miserable. he was harassing nate himself! and, again, putting aside the (very real! he's a football player! he spends half of his time in a locker room!!!) threat of physical violence, we JUST saw how quickly a member of the team can be shunned + labelled as an outsider (and in the context of this arc, i rlly don't think its a coincedence that trent, specifically, was the one to experience that treatment). and that's without even getting STARTED on the absolute nightmare britain's press + papparazi would be if they put a target on his back (the show has spared no gory detail for their treatment of rebecca + ted, after all).

this is the type of weight colin's been carrying around for the past three seasons. and trent, in that split second before he looked away and continued walking, must've felt it all right along with him. colin works for the fucking premier league in fucking britain. it's harder to think of a workplace LESS hospitable to anything other than the most cishetero, toxic, hyper conformist displays of masculinity.

and that's what fucking GETS me abt the reading where trent is gay! because in the exact same moment where trent would be feeling such a sudden sense of connection + solidarity w colin (you are not alone!!! im here too! i see you! i know you!), there comes the crushing weight of wanting to protect him, and not knowing if you can. trent may be a notoriously incisive + unflinching reporter, but w/ all of his power + armour stripped away now that he's no longer with the independent, it's damningly obvious that trent doesn't have anything close to real power at richmond. if they wanted to make colin's life hell, what could he really do to stop them? again: they're fucking footballers. he's only even allowed at the club on ted's word, a word which could presumably be revoked at any time.

i just. the fear. the guilt. the shame. and above all, the desperate, heart aching need to keep another member of the community safe, even with the odds so blatantly stacked against you both.

and like. idk. to me that is the point of this scene. i think whether you've been in trent's position, or colin's, or neither, the vast majority of us went through a very similar emotional journey when we saw colin exposed like that. love -> fear -> protectiveness. and its an urge so strong, ppl are (lightheartedly, for the most part) threatening the Literal Writers of the show! like, the fact that rn there are SO many people out there tweeting + liveblogging and threatening trent, threatening isaac, threatening the WRITERS - threatening literally anyone and everyone over the CHANCE that any of them will hurt colin/out him/expose him to homophobia in any way? like, yes, colin isn't real. but i'd like to hope that that solidarity is.

and just to be clear, ted lasso is ultimately a comedy show. while it has never shied away from frankly portraying dark subject matter, i don't think this story will have an unhappy ending. but if this arc comes with any takeaway at all, i just really fucking hope that its about how that solidarity is what we all need to embrace + run towards, rather than try and stifle. and that colin is fully + unconditionally supported by his community, whoever that may be.

[skyhawkstragedy]

BB26 Houseguests and how I think they would play Dead By Daylight

I haven’t done this in a while

Angela: Will actually harass the killer at some point. If she dies you can expect her in the chat calling killer a bitch. Ellen Ripley main.

Brooklyn: idk why this woman gives me Wire Tap energy. Like no matter who she chooses that is always in the loadout. Will probably use as many pallets as she can in a chase.

Cam: A very by-the-book survivor. Plays Dwight with Prove Thyself, maybe adept if he’s feeling frisky. Does gens, unhooks maybe one or two times, then dips. Very standard gameplay.

Cedric: Gets on a SWF and does what he’s told. Hey go do a gen. Hey go save this person. Gives perpetual newbie energy. Gravitates towards Leon, Jake and Renato.

Chelsie: The one telling Cedric what to do. Above average at the game but thinks she’s better than she is. Elodie main.

Joseph: A deceptive player. Likes to play games with the killer but is very likely to fail at them. Ash main.

Kenney: You just know he only picked Leon because he’s a cop. Gag. Leon is one of the only cops I trust. Definitely one to police other players. Will play Wesker as killer.

Kimo: Observes through vibes and is the most likely to get jumpscared. Gives big Aestri main energy. He probably just likes the music.

Leah: Also plays on vibes, but is better than most people expect. Most likely to get caught bc she clipped a corner. Easy Kate or Rebecca main.

Lisa: Will pick the cosmetic with the brightest colors and whine when she gets tunneled. Pretty much a Yui or Yunjin main for this reason 🤷‍♂️

Matt: Chris Redfield player. Another standard survivor, but will most likely stick with another person. Definitely feuding with someone in the endgame chat (very likely Angela).

Makensy: She gives off the vibes that she’s really good at this game. I feel a competitive spirit in her. Probably the best at looping. Feng or Jill main.

Quinn: You just know he’s gonna pick someone like Quentin or Adam just to be different. Very knowledgeable at the game and the most likely to have a loadout that matches the meta.

Rubina: Very clueless at the game but also the most likely to stay and heal you after unhooking. Altruistic to a fault. Claud or Gabriel main.

T’kor: Picked Lara Croft just because she’s British. Best at navigating the map and gathering information on where the killer has been. Also the most likely to fail skill checks.

Tucker: Switches between survivor and killer often but he’s CRACKEDT at both. Best at looping and can lure killer away from someone else with ease. Vittorio main who’s also skilled at Pyramid Head and Trickster. Also the person most likely to avoid a 3 gen situation. He likes puzzles, baby.

[consequencesofargentdawn]

@The ERP mentioning text below; I agree to 50%.

There is only a very small percentage that write their erp well. As with any other form of art, not many can achieve greatness in it. It's just writing smut in the end, with someone else doing half the work.

I can agree that people who do erp are much more immersed into their characters and see it fully through. Even if the goal is focused on erp, atleast there is a staying of in character and (possibly) developing a long term romance through it.

Depending on the race, what your character portrays and your own writing skill, you will be sought after too. By those you know and strangers alike.

Unfortunately this can lead to certain stigmas and approaches you would best avoid. Female dwarves, draenei and night elves are 24/7 targets for futas. Or people assume your character is a futa and/or lesbian. While vulpera and worgen are oftenly put away with the stigma of their character being gay. On Epsilon this extends to (RIP Horde side on AD, yes it's dead let's not kid ourselves) trolls. Where almost every female is a lesbian and every male is gay.

It's a completely different perspective on the hobby. Somewhat like a world on it's own. Erp does not equal quality writing. Even worse, finding quality erp with emotes written that hold any worth are very rare. It's quite similar to combat emoting. Some people do combat rp to "win". Translated to erp that means they only want their own preferences fulfilled. What it comes down to is they do not write in a cooperative manner with your character (or react to the other persons emotes) and instead roleplay at you. Not with you.

An even worse case is if someone takes the erp as a note that your character and theirs are together now or have feelings. Double worse if the other person gets jealous OOC. Which opens a whole new can of worms.

All in all? It has the exact same issues than 'regular' roleplay. Mainly that to find quality writing is difficult and crazy people will act crazy no matter what. I understand why so many people want to avoid erp entirely. Nobody can deny however that it's a very big part of Argent Dawn. Even if it isn't in public. Those that seem the most unlikely to erp are usually the ones that write quite well. I don't know how aware you are of the on goings but the erp scene on Argent Dawn is huge. Sure the PCU was/is against it and some players are too. I see and know many more that actively do erp and are fully ok with it than those who aren't.

The community of Epsilon seems to have the same opinion where I call utter bull. Man, Epsilon has a phase in Feralas that is 100% about erp and it's also the most active phase on the entire server. Even despite needing an invite and being private. The entire starting area of Epsilon is Goldshire. You can whisper almost any person there and they will be down (of varying degrees) to erp.

Keeping that in private though is the key. Nobody wants to read your kinks or fetishes in public. Especially not the roleplay in itself. The PCU liked to say "most people are against erp" where I also call utter bull. Most people are fine with it to downright seeking it out actively if the situation of their character calls for it.

A very well thought out and detailed post, many points of which we agree on. Any attempt to 'stop' ERP is doomed to fail and ultimately attempts to stop it can border on abuse and harassment. We have always been of the opinion that private interactions are no one's business but those involved in them.

[rivilu]

I read your notes about DAQ on that wyll vs dorian post and i just could not agree more. Specifically the thing about krem you said, i absolutely hate how the game while trying to introduce trans friendly concepts just. Forcibly makes your character cis in association. Like no my inquisitioner would not say any of that shit!!! He is trans!!!! And you could tell that shit was not written by a trans person. I think they were trying to avoid using many trans specific words to fit in with the setting but like? "Why do you pass?" Is not a question that makes sense for someone to ask and i hate that theyre taking an existing trans term and trying to make it mean like....the entire concept of transitioning?? Idk i feel like i would be more ok if they could have you be like "oh dw i am also trans" but nah we as the player are just assumed to be cis. Also yeah as you said, inventing transphobia in a series where that wasnt present before, its annoying.

Oh dont get me started I could talk about my gripes with the handling of transness in dragon age (and particularly inquisition) forever. Actually do get me started this has been a long time coming.

i absolutely hate how the game while trying to introduce trans friendly concepts just. Forcibly makes your character cis in association

YEP. Yep yes exactly. your options are 'three flavors of being transphobic' or 'when did you know' . which is what i picked, because you can stretch your imagination a little at least.

But there's also this other tiny elephant in the room issue with Krem that i didnt mention in those tags. Or should i say. Bull in the room ? Because holy shit, way to take away the trans character's speaking voice and characterization so we get to know how much of an ✨Ally ✨the cis man bestie is! Like okay if you're being a transphobic shithead it makes a bit More sense that he'd get defensive and speak up for Krem, but when your question was 'when did you know', Krem answers 'when i was young. not a great thing to know about yourself' and then Bull immediately cuts in to cisplain transness is like? What was the Idea there. Which then makes the dialogue choices being 90% straight up transphobia MORE suspicious, because the game is letting you, almost pushing you to verbally harass Krem.. almost like he doesn't REALLY matter, he's just a vessel to see how Progressive And Trans Friendly And A Good Friend Bull is. Thanks, i hate it.

Even in terms of backstory Bull being Krems savior when he was trying to escape his life etc never really sat right with me. Like there's an underlying demsel vibe i feel the devs stuck in there that really irks me. Not helped by the fact that we dont have a trans voice actor. Also not helped by the fact that this is a fantasy setting with magic but some form of magic hrt? Nah too impossible. Like sure there's some implication that it MIGHT exist somewhere but because magic Bad in the dragon age setting and tevinter magic Even Worse he wouldn't go for it- Like ok. some people might prefer their trans realism in faux medieval media. even fantasy. Im not one of those people. And all those justifications read more like excuses to me. Like you're telling me the circles wouldn't be making BANK out of selling trans-your-gender potions and abusing the shit out of it? And just. Again this makes the setting retroactively much Worse because where before i could point to my warden or Hawke and go 'yeah that's a trans man via magic hrt' and someone who prefers trans realism could ALSO do the same when making theirs how they like. Vagueness in such matters allows for imagination! But now dai is saying noo they had to be cis. And your inquisitor also. Fuck that.

Also yeah as you said, inventing transphobia in a series where that wasnt present before, its annoying.

one tiny correction here. there were hints of transphobia in the first two games, but it was mostly contained in like. Oghren style aged like milk type humor. more meta than text i guess. like in the Pearl in game one if you ask to be surprised there's a chance you get the ever hilarious 'haha you got man in a dress' *crickets* And then Serendipity in mark of the assassin.. well the wiki says she's meant to be a drag queen. So not 100% related to this discussion. But the execution of her character just felt SO mean spirited to me when i was playing that i felt it needed to be mentioned as well. (So i just love her out of spite now. ) But anyway yeah. Out of all the lgbtq things dragon age touches on i feel like gender is one that they. dont really even try to tackle in good faith. And it just got worse as the games went on. I can handle easily skippable side gags that are shitty and unfunny. Inquisition tries to actually bring ATTENTION to the topic, and proceeds to fall flat on its face. Not to mention Sera. Them having one of the main companions being transphobic in banter.

Bioware when I catch you Bioware. Bioware when i catch you.

[dogwittaablog]

Like I get what people mean here, hockey culture is RANCID and it's not too hard to find that out, but I do think that when it comes to specific instances where you didn't do a deep dive into someone's social media and things weren't all that publicized (this is hockey, relatively niche outside of Canada, that famously strives to make its players appear as boring and unremarkable as possible and that doesn't have much in the way of news coverage), some of these anons might want to tone down the harshness about people who didn't know. I get the frustration when it happens over and over and over and people are like "he seemed so nice! I'm so shocked!" but to act like some of this info is super common knowledge and to shit on people for getting the bulk of their info from Tumblr is certainly not on. I certainly didn't do a deep dive into Pat's social media or private life and I've never been a stan but why should that be an expectation for every hockey player someone takes any sort of fannish or casual interest in? And there is definitely the trouble with the focus on the fannish side obscuring many of the real issues on Tumblr, but I have also seen plenty of people speak very openly about the various crimes and cultural issues and get support in this sport in ways I don't see on other platforms, and also, have you considered that those other platforms are riddled with the exact kind of misogyny and homophobia endemic to hockey culture that we're talking about and that some of us stick to here because we want to avoid that? I'll go out of my way to read news articles by people like Rick Westhead and Katie Strang and Robyn Doolittle, all of whom have done a tremendous job covering the myriad issues in hockey culture, but again, this is hockey, a niche sport, it's not like there's reporters or audience enough to cover every single player. And it's not like I think that people who are fannish and just want escapism need to do that, either, as long nobody loses sight that they're here for a fantasy.

The culture is shit. This person is shit. The clues are there on the individual level for those who looked closely. Hockey is a case of Schrodinger's monster, for me, where you can assume every guy can be this way but that doesn't mean it isn't monstrous when it comes out. But a lot of this understandable anger is being directed the wrong way, I feel, and the condescension is unwarranted. Honestly it's far better to be surrounded by people who are upset about this than people who are defending it (looking at you, Patrick Kane stans who stuck by him and harassed people for harshing your squee, something I thankfully haven't seen people do in this case) or are saying there's nothing wrong with it (looking at you, people on other platforms.)

(Also the non sequiturs about the violence of hockey, the lack of college education - off the top of my head, Casey DeSmith was in college and that certainly didn't stop him from doing what he did, and did you see everything about the horrible culture at U Mich?, and hunting - I'm sure a thoughtful point could've been made, there, but that was not it.)

(Not directed at you, dogwittaablog, you're just answering anons and handling this as fairly as you can.)

! ! ! ! ! ! !

[ratgingi]

smth smth oc rambles

murr is almost constantly swaying a little bit, think like a cartoon character does when theyre in love or smth. its not super noticable unless youre like actively watching him

outis plays with his necklace a lot, especially while he talks. also speaking of the necklace it was a present from his dad, the very first time he ever went to the beach with his parents he was way too scared of going anywhere near the water, and his dad got him the shell while diving and had ot turned into a necklace for him

also outis has had to be hospitalized twice because of his allergy, once when he was 5 (it was the first time they found out it was a problem) and once when he was 10 (went out to eat with family and everyone forgot to double check that the food was safe). his dad makes a joke every time he his a 5th year that its 'time for another scare'. outis does not think this joke is very funny but yk how parents are

xander (who i havent . talked abt hardly at all despite them being the most notable nonedatable from vinnies route oops) is 20 and genderfluid (any pronouns with no preference) and is probably gonna be the person who sets you up with vinnie methinks. he likes vintage and old time-y devices and has a weird fascination with medieval weaponry/torture . shes relatively normal xe just thinks its really cool

addy used to give free food to randy when he was living in the dumpster. juniper used to threaten to beat him up so he would give her that food while she was on the streets. addy caught her during one of these harassment moments and with margo's assistance helped her get her current job to get her back on her feet

oopsie does not like roe or murr and treats them both similarly to how she treats gingi. when asked she just says they creep her out and have bad vibes and make her feel like shes in danger so she avoids them (however if she had to pick between those two or gingi she would go to them for protection)

kara still has her old trophy head, she got it changed shortly before coming to town and keeps the trophy in her room in oakey's place. not as an ego boost so much as a humbling kind of thing, she looks at it whenever she feels homesick to remind herself why she left in the first place. the blue ribbon she wears was the first blue ribbon she ever won, and she won it for a singing performance. THAT one she uses as motivation

jackson had an older model smartphone as a head when he was little, when he was a teenager (like 16/17 or so) his parents paid to replace it with a newer one since his old friend group's parents were all doing it and they didnt want him to stick out. one of said friends got the rainbow headcase for him as a joke but hes just never stopped wearing it

when talking to charlie the first time he mentions that lillith is mute and offers to give the player a little sorta book with basic conversational asl instructions so they might understand lillith better. the player would be able to refuse this either saying they already know it or saying they just dont need it and if you say its because you know it already some of the things lillith 'says' wont make sense to represent misunderstanding their gestures, if the player says they just dont need it lillith's text just flat out wouldnt show and youd have to go back to charlie to get the book

both charlie and lilliths heads are damaged (his screen is shattered, their clipboard head has a piece broken off of the corner), neither will disclose how either of the damages happened

in outis' route youd be able to meet up with stop in the laundremat and the two of you would work together to help him for a bit. i havent decided if you meet it normally or if you meet them post them getting hit by a car (a very common occurance for her dont worry)

similar to murr roe is not super picky about pronounce or gender things bc when youre around for long enough you sort of decide being picky about gender is not worth it. smth smth "im nonbinary now this shit is getting ridiculous" type beat

[buckcluckhater]

Controversial Video Game Opinion: Resident Evil 3 (2020)

So this title was released right after the Resident Evil 2 Remake and as a bundle with Project: REsistance for $60, effectively a $30 game on its own. Looking at it from that perspective, I can at least somewhat justify the shorter length. Having no Clocktower segment and just having Jill get knocked out until the next scene with her is pretty blatantly just a cheap scene transition and a way to shift the control to Carlos.

The criticisms towards Jill Valentine's character in this game especially rub me the wrong way. The writers clearly from the outset wanted to incorporate her past experiences and the trauma that comes with them, having to watch people you know die and facing death yourself does a lot to warp someone's personality and make just the day to day experience of living much more difficult. That and not wearing a tube top is apparently a crime.

Having said that, it sucks how her apartment is this beautifully designed space with tons of personality and some really cool details, but your only interaction with it is walking around until the Trash Man comes to cave your head in.

On that note, Nemesis. I have no issues with his design or story appearances. What I do have a problem with is his gameplay. Unlike Mr. X, who was mostly free to roam the playable space on his own, creating a really organic enemy, Nemesis in this game mostly sticks to scripted encounters and often travels by teleporting out of the map (not before doing his own Spider-Man Pose) so that he can ambush the player by respawning closer to them. It makes sense why they do this, Jill is just so much faster than Leon/Claire in the previous game, and it helps Nemesis avoid falling too far behind, something Mr. X did a lot.

My issue is just how obvious it is that he does this. There are a lot of areas in Downtown Raccoon City where you can easily bait this movement and wait for him to slowly load into the correct spot before he attacks you. It's really inorganic and feels like a cheap rug-pull for experienced players who have a sense of how the game operates.

The Boss Fights are all way better than RE2-R tbh. I love that game to bits, but G-2 Birkin can go straight back to hell with his tiny arena and multiple charging attacks. Meanwhile the only Nemesis fight that kinda sucks is unfortunately his final encounter. On lower difficulties it's a joke, you only die if you forget how to play or panic and take too long. On higher difficulties the game literally makes enemies perform their animations faster in order to be more aggressive. This gives Nemesis an instakill combo if you have to get caught by one attack in the chain. Impressively unfair feature for an otherwise boring enemy.

Oh and the last part, the game's best feature is its Item Shop. Normally these things sucks because they're just a place to load up on consumables and be harassed with price tags. In RE3-R, you're awarded currency based on achievements and can spend them on whatever you want, like an Arcade Counter. This is great for accessibility too, since even mediocre players can probably grab the Infinite Ammo AR and use it to make the rest of the game much easier for themselves. Compare this to RE2-R, where only specific achievements unlocked specific items and most were things like Concept Art or Viewable Models.

This game also has viewable Models, but the controls are kinda weird and the game's small size indirectly makes it a less interesting place to browse since there's way less to look at. Alternate Model poses and booba physics were also added to iterate from the RE2-R version.

Lastly, the actual gameplay. I personally feel like it's one of the more difficult games I've played, and a large part of that is needing to depend on reaction time much more than prior titles. Dodge rolls and QTE grabs are the emphasis over Consumables, which definitely threw players off when they first got grabbed and the Knife did nothing to stop them from being bitten. It's lame how Zombies were mechanically downgraded for performance issues. Not only do they go completely stiff upon death, this actually ruins their 'ambush' behavior by making it instantly possible to tell if they're still alive based on whether or not their body shudders when attacked. In RE2-R they always moved when hit, so sometimes they could fake death by just not reacting more than that. You know, like a Zombie.

To cap this off, I actually love Resident Evil 3 (2020). It's amazing on the first playthrough and remains a fun game to Speedrun, or played for the challenge. I feel like it was mostly disliked for the changes it made from the original, and for clearly being an underfunded title, which is much worse considering how good Capcom and Resident Evil were doing in terms of sales. They did not need to rush this game, but what's done is done.

Also Project Resistance still sucks. Play Dead by Daylight, or don't, maybe go on a walk or talk to your friends.

[pinkyjulien]

Y'know, I wasn't sure if I should reblog this one post there, especially since people went out of their way to censor it by mass reporting it alongside other posts, getting my wholass blog flagged as well

Thankfully, a year later, I've been able to appeal all the posts, simply because I never found out what was flagged, assuming it was sexy/skimpy virtual photography.

But no, it was simply this.

A fandom who can't handle queer men, queer player celebrating the smallest crumb of queerness confirmation on a niche NPC. This really got y'all sooooo butthurt- but fuck it, I will reblog it here, now that I can :>

Pardon my saltiness, this got me so upset yesterday and I never got to talk about everything that happened to me regarding all of this.

Remember how the fandom reacted, btw? For the new commers that thankfully dodged it all, here what went down.

Shortly after this stream/post, a lot of people started to cry about it.

A popular Goro/FemV shipper made a post calling out Pawel and how "Devs shouldn't have any place in fandom spaces"

Yes, we're talking about a dev who said "Oh yeah we left hints on purpose in the game"- mind you this Goro Shipper, alongside others, were going apeshit over the possibility of Goro having hidden voice lines/interaction in Jig Jig street, asking about it on streams (Yes, Pawel's streams) but I guess Devs confirming and giving hints is only valid when the fandom decides it!

Another person, this time a Mitch shipper, got an anon telling her about this info; being a Mitch/FemV shipper you can imagine how well she reacted. After telling Anon to fuck off, she apparently wrote smut of Mitch "eating pussy", I guess in an attempt to counter the Gay allegations. And if you think that's fucked up- yes, yes it is! That's about the most transphobic and homophobic shit ever; I'm not saying the person is, but what she wrote WAS highly phobic.

I was, of course, accused of being that Anon, despite the fact this person has been blocked for almost 4 years now, and I've been doing everything in my power to avoid her at all cost

In my Trans Awareness Day post, I mentionned this "fanfic" at the end, and how "eating pussy" is NOT a hetero/cis only sexual interaction, and of course some people thought my post was "too agressive"!

Last year, while reporting and blocking one of the many harassing anon blog of the fandom, I stumbled upon a post; an anon trash-talking me, my ship, talking about Mitch and how my "gay headcanon" wasn't valid since my V is trans.

This post broke me, I won't even hide it, this was such a low blow, nasty fucking comment from a pathetic asshole hiding behind a screen.

This fandom is so passively queerphobic with a nice fake paint of inclusivity. Complaining in private about how much of a "waste" gay characters are. Sharing disgust of seeing canonly bisexual characters, such as Goro, being shipped with Male OCs.

I hate every single persons who participated in this; supported this non-sense of "Devs shouldn't confirm anything unless it pleases ME"

Supported the transphobic fanfic of "eating pussy makes a man love women"

Again, I never spoke about it publicly and never had any ""occasion"" to. Not that I ever wanted to poke that fucking beehive of highschool bullies, but seeing what flagged posts caused my whole blog to be censored enraged me

My apologies for the PURE fandom wank there! It's been eating me since yesterday, now that it's out in the open I'll feel better :>

BITCH HELLO??????? HELLOO??????????????????

CONFIRMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMED FULLON

[licuadora-nasir]

Hello, Beemoov. I've been trying to avoid addressing this topic for a long time but turns out I'm not the only one who's tired of this issue. I'm talking about many things, but the one I'm most concerned about is Lance. Cause congratulations, you've killed him.

I only see GLIMPSES of the one that has been the most demanded non-romanceable character, and this makes me very sad and disappointed. Let's get by parts:

Lance is a natural-born leader. He's been brave enough to follow his heart and beliefs (even if they exactly weren't... Healthy). He didn't hesitate in turning his back to the guard when he noticed how corrupted the organization was. Lance does what he thinks must be done, as @kanraandchrome said, " he doesn't embarrass himself with morality when he has his own system of valour ".

It's quite funny that in episode 4 we have this dialogue:

Erika: So you haven't changed that much after all? Everyone thinks so.

ANE Lance: Once again, you must have heard wrong, I've only changed sides.

And then ANE Lance proceeds to have this irrational blind trust in Huang Hua saying things like "I don't like questioning Huang Hua's decisions". Since when he's a puppy that follows each of his masters' orders? Why did you have to turn him into someone who hasn't own criteria?

I get that he feels guilty. I understand he's grateful to Huang Hua since she's the one who's given him a second chance and even understood him in TO.

But you don't have to RUIN a character in order to make him feel guilty for his actions. You make him change sides, not change personal beliefs. THAT'S how redemption works, and this is not a redemption, this is a character obliteration.

I mean, after writing that prophecy, I guess you find it FUNNY that ANE Lance has lost his soul and his personality. Because I find it hard to understand how Lance is the same person we have in this season. He doesn't resemble his own self. He looks weak and lost.

You can't pick a strong-willed character, with a defined personality and turn him into this. You don't do that to someone the fandom adores so much.

And please, don't get me started in the romance.

How do you pretend to make a reasonable romance plot if the romantic interactions do not have more than two minutes on screen? THIS IS AN OTOME, players are here mainly for the ROMANCE, not the FRIENDSHIP. It's great you've listened to us when it came to improving the illustrations, it's great that Koori stopped showing up in all the illus, WHY can't you listen to the obvious and give us more time with the crushes?

Also, we've gone from this

"You just want to eat her!"

To an ANE Lance that practically runs from every physical interaction,ç he has with Erika? Because at this point, it feels like Erika is harassing him. Why did you have to make him a romanceable character that ISN'T CAPABLE of romancing the main character? Yeah, guilt and I feel guilty, and omg I hurt her blablabla PLEASE, this problem could have already been easily solved with a conversation!! Instead of running here and there with her friends you should have sat these two down and made them have a real conversation!

I'm glad Nevra starts to feel like himself again, would it kill you to do the same with Lance and Leiftan too?

I'm not going to drop Eldarya. I'm not going to stop liking Lance cause TO Lance exists and I don't recognize ANE Lance as Lance even if you show us glimpses of his personality from time to time. And of course, I won't stop creating content either.

I will play the whole season and when it's finished, I will decide if you've completely ruined my favourite character or not.

But please, do not do this to a character that is so loved by the fandom. Stop treating Lance so dirty, it's like you've decided he was not family-friendly enough and therefore changed him into someone plain and dull. People (I'm people) have waited YEARS for him and seeing him dead is truly disappointing and painful.