#i don't know which men's player she's most friends with

[fazcinatingblog]

Who would they have been going for

[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!!)

[kairiscorner]

volleyball player gojo does something to the brain (a very good thing)

–the team's pretty little manager.

volleyball player!satoru gojo x manager!fem!reader

the squeaking of shoes against the reflective and shiny hardwood floors filled the entire indoor court as the jujutsu high men's volleyball team was practicing for the regionals. the only two practicing right now while waiting for the others were none other than the dynamic duo of satoru gojo, the cocky yet strongest wing spiker the team has to offer—and suguru geto, the most talented server they have on the team, the only one who can match satoru's insatiable dynamic in and out of the court. the two were being themselves as usual, trying to outplay each other in an aggressively friendly fashion while making idle chitchat or gossiping to each other about the ongoings of their lives.

the conversation eventually came around the topic of the prettiest girl in all of jujutsu high, which satoru snorted at as he spiked suguru's serve back at his court a little too hard. "like any girls here actually interest me." satoru said with a gagging expression and his tongue stuck out, as if to express his disgust and disappointment at such a boring question. suguru chuckled as he got the ball back and bounced it before serving, smirking at satoru with a knowing smirk. "really now, satoru? i suppose it wouldn't be too out of character for you to play along with a group of girls praising you," suguru pointed out as he took a few steps back and readied his serving stance, aiming the ball at satoru's court while satoru readied himself to save the ball in case it'd land in his court. "though... it would be a bit out of character for you to be a total liar, wouldn't it?" his dear friend asked him rhetorically as suguru threw the ball upwards and sprinted forward a little to serve it back at satoru's court.

satoru was quick on his feet and ran to save the ball, but his reflexes were a bit slow that moment, and the ball entered his court even further. he sighed and rubbed at his head angrily with a pouty face. "don't act like you can read all that into me now, suguru." he told him as he went off to get the ball, his face crinkled into an annoyed glare, which his friend chuckled slightly and shook his head at. "it's not my fault you're too obvious. you clearly don't see her as just 'some girl' or a groupie in your fan club—you are interested in her—" "no way in hell." satoru muttered as he bounced the ball on his court. "there's no way i'm into that little runt." he denied with a huff. "she keeps warning me about my haircut, saying crap like it's 'against the school rules' to have hair this long; as if my spiky hair'll keep me from being the best damn spiker this school's got!" he exclaimed as he ran up and served the ball—or, tried serving the ball—but he missed hitting it and it merely fell over to his feet, angering the white haired youth even more.

suguru chuckled loudly at his friend's sloppy serve. "yeah, this is why coach yaga left that position to me. anyway..." suguru trailed off as he walked over to satoru's court, signaling for the two of them to take a break from practice. he placed a hand on satoru's shoulder and watched as his friend's eyebrows furrowed slightly and his cheeks seemed a bit pinkish—and something told suguru it wasn't because of the humidity in the room or the exercising and practices they did. suguru smiled at him and pat his shoulder. "you gotta be honest, you do think she's the prettiest little manager, don't you, satoru?" he teased his friend as he chucked the ball at suguru and groaned. "if you wanna keep putting words in my mouth, maybe you should just marry her if you like sucking up to her that much." "what if i will when we're older? who's to say?" suguru suggested with a coy tone, making satoru stop in his tracks from putting the ball back into the ball rack. "...like i care." "that's basically you saying you do." "look, she's... she's smart, smarter than i am sometime, that much i'll admit. she's cute, when she's not being a little prissy pants—and she's... she's got a smile some decent guy with good morals has to protect, or else, i'm gonna..."

"gonna what, gojo?" asked a familiar voice, making gojo's aquamarine eyes go wide. he slowly turned around and saw the little runt of a cute manager with a smile worth protecting right behind him. suguru excused himself and ran off to get some water, leaving you two alone together. satoru yelled after him and tried running up to get some water with him as an excuse, but you pulled him by the sleeve and kept him there. "do go on..." you told him in an interested, yet sort of shy, tone; you knew satoru could be a suck-up, cocky asshole, but you were intrigued about this secret side of him. satoru groaned and leaned his face forward to meet yours and furrowed his eyebrows up at you. "or else i'm gonna do this if you won't let me go, runt." he said as he cupped your face with his larger hand and squeezed the life out of your cheeks, smirking to himself at how you resembled an adorable little pufferfish, making him laugh aloud and smile. of course, he liked you—a lot; but he'd never admit it. only from a distance will he let himself call you 'the team's prettiest little manager' and tease the hell out of you.

[harkre]

I don't know where to post this—

But it isn't like she and her "group" can't drive me off the server—because I've long left it behind. And it was I who originally introduced them to "Minecraft" which I had made a realm and invited them alongside friends. However, when people were suggesting I made a server—I told them it would take me awhile to make one. Well—Niklos couldn't wait and took everyone off from my realm and invited them to 'their server' without inviting me which I had to third-party to get a invite because I didn't even know about it!

And many don't know the actually reason why I left Moon Guard—it was due to "Niklos Adamant" Guild Leader of the Remnants of Lordaeron and it wasn't due to the "Minecraft" incident. They are manipulative and most of this stems due to lack of communication from them and other people. The only person that really communicated to me about any complaints was the leader from the Residuum. Apparently "Niklos" had a problem with me for months but never communicated about it once despite our close proximity in-game and being friends in discord. They never contacted me to expression their complaints to me directly for "months" and when they did contact me about it—

Literally didn't communicated back with me for "months" via discord and accused me of "siccing" my friends after them. When I wasn't even online in-game for that and don't know the full context of what had happened. Just that I was doing a role-play that involved someone wanting to role-play with people from the Cathedral group and that wanted to be involved with my story. But something happened and it blew way out of proportion and was never given screenshots of what actually occurred from either party. But as you can see Niklos hadn't contacted me since December of 2021 and all the way until May of 2022 and /whisper communication in-game was non-existent.

And the screenshots in regards to the conversation that had with Hillsbradian below were originally shown to me by Niklos herself before I joined their discord back in 2019 when I had originally joined Moon Guard and was desperate for friends. I should have taken screenshots but I never thought anything like this could occur in the future with "drama"

Basically they whispered me this tinyurl link that they were "sad" that these screenshots were going around framing them in a bad way and that they were fake. And basically said something like this: "you know that isn't my discord profile picture and name" and I was dumb enough to believe them—because I didn't know better and was just desperate for a friend. However the conversation always hit me as fishy because—"you can change your profile picture and name" at any time!

I stumbled back on the screenshots here on tumblr and clearly other people seem to be aware of them and that they aren't "fake"

I've made even more people aware of them. For example: "Gnews" "Eveneah Rosewood" and some of the core officers and the leader for the "Residuum of Icecrown" are aware of the screenshots and if there is more evidence apparently this Maxen has them.

Including of Bishop "Tyragonfal" which the Residuum of Icecrown does have a document about them with evidence for why they are "blacklisted"

Tyragonfal also stalked my character from the Residuum of Icecrown various times until I had to join a voice chat for the "Midnight Repose" to tell them to stop parking themselves right nearby me in emote range. They would also metagame using their alt in the Residuum of Icecrown at the time called "Nightravens" and they are a 38+ female player who was sending inappropriate messages to the officers from the Residuum of Icecrown in a very "s*xuel matter" and seem to target young men for their "r*pe" kinks and even wrote an inappropriate fanfiction with them and another character without their consent. Eitherway "Midnight Repose" defends them and Niklos gave them a high role in their Remnant of Lordaeron discord.

[strawberryblondebutch]

PWHL/NHL Comparison: Aerin Frankel

Hello everyone and welcome back to the latest installment of my PWHL/NHL comparisons. Today, we'll be looking at everyone's favorite Green Monster, Aerin Frankel. A couple disclaimers before we get started:

While some people don't like making cross-gender athlete comparisons because women should be their own players, not "the female [insert guy athlete]", I think these comps are useful for someone getting into the PWHL. Plus, I have fun with them!

I have a unique perspective with this one, having played with Frankel in net behind me and having scrimmaged against her (which, yeah, was no fun for me as a playmaking skater...)

That being said, I was never a goalie. Well, maybe once in peewee, but I was so bad at it that they said never again. My best analysis will always be for centers, because that's the position I know inside, outside, and upside down.

In some ways, it feels unfair to try to make a Frankel comparison, because she's spent her whole career cultivating her own unique style, and there's not going to be a perfect fit in the men's game. That's what makes this a fun thought experiment for me.

Let's talk first about size. I reference size a lot when I talk about playing style, because your height and weight impact your momentum on the ice. Megan Keller uses her weight to disrupt her opponents' puck-carrying. Casey O'Brien's smaller size gives her better acceleration and agility when setting up plays. With Frankel, the scouting report on her had two knocks against her. The first was that, playing for an elite prep school, she just... never had to face that many opposing shots (which is funny when you look at all her playoff saves this past season). The other was her height. At 5'5", she's on the smaller end of WoHo goalies. The position is getting smaller (Maschmeyer and Hensley are both 5'6"), but you generally want to be at least 5'9" to start in net.

There is such a thing as being too tall to play goalie. Sure, you block more of the net, but one of the things Ivan Fedotov (6'8") had to unlearn when he came to the NHL was to look around screens instead of over them -- he physically could not see a puck going through the five-hole. But for the most part, common wisdom is that you want to be pretty big - both tall and wide, because that gives you a longer reaction time to block the puck. The less space you take up, the more on target your movement has to be.

Frankel's solution to being small? Getting aggressive. She moves faster and more assertively than almost any other goalie. She positions herself way up in front of the net relative to her taller peers, because that gives her more time to set up and cut off shooting lanes. Where she intercepts the puck is farther from the net than her friend Abby Levy, who's 6'0". One thing other goalies have noted is that Frankel doesn't set up based on the puck: she sets up based on stick blades. The move she's anticipating is a half-second before most goalies. It's actually a similar mechanism to baseball hitters' timing: hitters read the pitcher's arm movement rather than the ball itself, because if you're tracking the ball, you're already behind.

So, who in the NHL has also fine-tuned their reflexes to make up for their smaller size? That would be Juuse Saros on the Nashville Predators.

(sorry, no fun graphics, JFresh only makes them for skaters)

Saros is generously listed at 5'11" and 180 lbs, making him the only goalie in the NHL this season under six feet. And yet, during the 2019-20 season, despite having the smallest target, he had the highest percentage of pucks strike him in the chest. Like Frankel, it's not so much that Saros is faster than his peers: it's that he made a conscious decision to move more and anticipate plays faster because he had to. Ann-Renee Desbiens (5'9") is just as active in the crease (some would say too active), but she also has the luxury of sitting back and letting more plays come to her.

Both Frankel and Saros have pucks hit them in the chest, which common wisdom suggests means that they were perfectly set up in their posts. Reporters have also casually said of both of them: they don't make pretty saves, but they get the job done.

What impresses me about both players is that, while their reflexes and movement started as adaptations around their smaller sizes, their ability to process the game would benefit anyone at G, no matter the size. Saros' old teammate Pekka Rinne (6'5") said that he improved as soon as he started putting his shorter teammate's skills into practice. Goaltending has already seen the most dramatic changes in style since its inception, and I wouldn't be surprised if the next change we saw was an increase in dynamism.

(Want more comparisons like this? Throw me an ask!)

[victimsofyaoipoll]

Round 1

Propaganda Under Cut

Misa Amane

she gets treated in-canon the way fandoms treat female characters that Threaten an m/m ship. it's like, "oh why don't you go sit in the corner and be pretty, misa, while the Men have intelligent conversation and pretend they aren't ten seconds from fucking each other, doesn't that sound nice?" it's infuriating. and MAYBE it's better now but i remember her getting treated the same way in fanfiction too, like we all need to do just as badly by our female secondary characters as fucking tsugumi ohba, but with the added insult of making her be alternately oblivious of the relationship between light and L or actively trying to sabotage it—incompetently, of course, because god forbid misa be allowed dignity or moments of cleverness.

she's one of the first characters I think of when I consider old school fandom misogyny. The annoying bitch and clingy crazy gf allegations were AFTER HER ASS. She's also a lot more intelligent than people gave her credit for, but most seem inclined to take the Very Biased word of our unreliable, narcissistic narrator and his homoerotic arch nemesis and claim that just because she's bubbly and into romance that she's also a complete moron. Which is blatantly untrue. Everyone was afraid of Misa girlbossing too hard. Killing people and devoting yourself to the deranged twink of your dreams even though you know he'll never love you back??? Having a hardcore goth aesthetic and being so Hot even literal Death Gods are into you?? God forbid women do ANYTHING!

Not only is she the victim of yaoi culture, she is the victim of early 2000s misogyny by an author that wanted to introduce a girl character because he knew his male rivals were getting too homoerotic. She is a goth bimbo icon who portrays what I think is one of the few callouts for stan culture and what parasocial relationships can do to both the stan and the idol. The fact that she is a toxic fan of Kira and also hot, funny, sociable is tragic in its own way, which I think the author did try to touch on but was too misogynistic too really get through. Of course, she was reduced to villain status by the fandom and anime alike because she got in the way of the supposed romance in their psychological horror anime.

Téa Gardener/Anzu Mazaki

She's friends with Yugi, the main protagonist, who is usually either shipped with his other self (Yami Yugi), or Yugi/Yami will be shipped with the main antagonist (Seto Kaiba). She tends to get demonised a LOT. I have read SO many stories where she is turned into this evil, scheming harpy of a woman who will get in the way of Twu Wuv. 

the fandom does her so dirty bc she's in the way of at least 3 different yaoi ships she's so amazing and underrated tho she's such a great character

Was portrayed as a bitch very often in fandom! Is very not a bitch in canon! Supportive, occasionally snarky, occasional damsel in distress, good card player in her own right (this is important in universe, trust me), and very very loyal! 

[httpsdana]

𝐔𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬~𝐀 𝐅𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐧 𝐓𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐭 𝟏

summary: Barça players and talented footballers. Souls meet and sparks fly. But there's always a twist when it comes to love isn't there?

pairing: Ferran Torres x Gonzalez!Reader

warnings: cursing, slight age gap, angst

next part

Football runs in the family they say. Pedri Gonzalez was one of the new star boys of this generation. No one cares about his family or past, they just acknowledge the present.

A few knew that he had a sister. She called herself 'the forgotten child'. No one knew that she was a barça femeni player. Because simply no one cares about women's football.

The talent she had only bloomed in La Masia. The football dream academy. She was there alongside many other ladies that are well known. Aitana Bonmati and Salma Paralluelo were two of the players she played with when she was younger, but they got the chance to play for the first team before her, which only motivated her to push herself more, now reserving a spot in the starting line up of the women's team.

So there she was now, with the most g/a in Liga F, and the star of her team. Still no one knew her blood relations with the star boy Pedri, as she preferred to have her own name, rather than be hidden in the shadows of her twin.

What she didn't know was that she had some admirers from the men's team. She knew all of the players of course, unlike others she watched men's football and followed the barça men team. She admired the youngsters, got inspired by the experts, and found motivations in players who have seemed to come back from the death. The Shark Ferran Torres.

The number 7 has caught her attention after seeing the change in his mentality from the previous season to the current one. He seemed more stable and determined to prove others wrong, just like she did.

She didn't know that he secretly praised her, and watched her highlights through out the years. He began watching the women's team's matches because of her. He even learned some stuff from her, making him appreciate her even more, without anyone knowing.

No one needed to know that half the reason behind his change of mentality, was a 20 year old lady who played football and inspired him more than anyone else could.

He didn't know she was the twin of his best friend. Which is what causes the twist in their futures.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

"y/n you are the star of your team, people knowing about you being my twin now isn't gonna change anything" Pedri said, annoyed by the thoughts his sister had.

"who told you so Pedro? I prefer to stay like this than get more attention for being your sister" she rolled her eyes and flopped on the couch next to Fernando, who seemed unbothered while he watched a movie and ate some popcorn.

"god I wanna know who put these thoughts in your head. I miss going out with you" he let out a sigh, sitting next to her on the couch

y/n shook her head and focused on the movie that was being played.

"how about you meet my best friends? you literally don't have any social skills or friends" he complained making her roll her eyes

"Aita is my friend" she shrugged, knowing this was partially a lie. they were just teammates, not the type to go out on free days

"yeah and Ronaldo is better than Messi. you know she's not your friend" he rolled his eyes

"why are you so bothered anyways?" she asked, stealing some popcorn from Fer, making him hit her hand.

"you may not notice it now, but this will slowly destroy your mental health later on. you should go out and meet some new people. look beyond football and enjoy your free days" Pedri said.

He was slowly getting in her head, and she knew he was right. She let out a sigh and nodded her head.

"I'll think about it. how about I beat your ass in fifa now?" she smirked, making him gasp jokily.

"yeah as if you can do that" he scoffed, turning Fer's movie off to turn his PS5

"hey what the fuck?" Fernando said, making them laugh. Fer shook his head and glanced on his phone before getting up.

"mom texted she needs some help at home, I'm gonna go now" he said, taking his stuff and walking out of Pedri's apartment.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

"haha! that's 3-1 to me. you're such a loser" y/n slapped the back of Pedri's head, making him glare at her

"whatever I let you win anyways" he shrugged, making her laugh

they were interrupted by a knock on the door of the apartment. y/n looked at Pedri, who shrugged and got up to open the door.

She turned off the PS5 and put the movie back on, before Pedri walked awkwardly to the room. y/n stood up confused, before someone appeared behind Pedri.

"y/n, this Ferran. Ferran, y/n..my sister"

[loveromeo1641]

Ok I JUST finished persona 5 so here's all my thoughts and ramblings because I NEED to put this somewhere (none of my friends have played the game and I'm going insane) (I also currently don't have any persona 5 moots so you know......)

Major spoilers (obviously)

I despise Kamoshida. They did a REALLY fucking good job of making him hateable. Like for me personally, all the other palace-owners aren't nearly as detestable as Kamoshida is. I feel like it's because we see Kamoshida's actions directly hurting people in a way that no other palace-owner is shown, if that makes sense. Like Madarame's actions do hurt Yusuke very directly but it's just not the same vibes. I really absolutely hate Kamoshida and I'm glad he got justice.

I love the original group of four. I do like all the characters that come after them and join the group, but those four have a special place in my heart. They're iconic.

I love Ann's story during the first palace and I feel terrible for her BUT it grosses me out how the creators continue to sexualize her (and other female characters) for laughs throughout the game. Like why the fuck did they think any of those scenes were they have to wear extremely minimal clothing was necessary. It's so fucking weird. You can't just write a character who's plot point is that she's forced into uncomfortable sexual situations, and then force her into uncomfortable sexual situations for a joke. It's not only not funny, it's fucking disgusting.

Speaking of which, can Ryuji and Morgana stop making weird comments or suggesting weird ideas? I get it's supposed to be funny, but it's just uncomfortable.

Yusuke is the gayest man I've ever seen good god.

I want to date men in the game, Atlus, come on. Stop being homophobic, let me date a man. Let me date Ryuji please

I love Futuba. She's like my younger sister and I would kill for her. Which made me really fucking grossed out when the romance started happening. Like what the fuck was that huh. I'm sorry, you can't just have Ren (I think that's he's name) and Futuba have a siblings relationship like the entire game (not to mention their basically step-siblings), and then all of a sudden turn it romantic.

Speaking of which, it's kinda weird that you can date your teacher and doctor (and the other adults). Like not shaming anyone for picking those options cause the doctors hot as hell, but why would a teacher think it's ok to date their student or a doctor date their underage client. There's nothing wrong with choosing them to date, especially if you (the player) are an adult, but it's still weird that like four different adult women want to date you.

I've seen this said before, but the middle palaces are kinda boring. The story pacing falls off after Madarame's palace. Again, I love Futuba, but Kaneshiro's, Futuba's, and Okumura's palaces feel like there's much less at stake, especially Kaneshiro's. Not that I disliked the game at those points, but compared to the rest of the game, it's not as exciting.

The Nijima palace was my favorite. Oh my god, it was so interesting and well developed. The music was also FIRE. I liked going around and collecting chips to continue on to the next level, and I liked seeing a shadow that wasn't directly hostile towards the group. It was such an interesting concept. I also just love Sae as a character, I like that she's not directly evil and she has good intentions, she just got kinda lost at some point. I think that's a nice change of pace from the other palaces.

Ren and Akechi have the most romantic tension in the entire series. Like kiss already, jesus fucking christ.

I like all the phantom thieves except Haru. She feels so out of place. This isn't like an attack on her character or anything, but the issues with her Okumura Foods stock or whatever it was felt so... weird. Like I get she's in a tough situation, but she's also like a millionaire, so no matter what she decides, she would be set for life probably. I don't know, it just feels wrong to me

I cried when Akechi died :( I know he's technically a bad guy but come on. He deserved better. I want to bring him back from the dead and give him a hug. Have him and the other phantom thieves live a happy life being besties or whatever.

The ending felt weird. It was so much monologuing. I don't even know exactly what I didn't like about the ending, I just didn't like it. I also didn't play royal, I just played the original, so that might have changed it. I know that apparently I was supposed to talk to the wardens throughout the game and I just... didn't. Oops.

This is such a small thing but I hated the music for Shido's palace. It made me go insane and not in a good way.

I cried when I thought Ryuji died. And then I got mad when the cast beat him up for some reason???? Literally why did they do that????

I realized I didn't talk about Makoto at all but I love her. She's amazing. She can do no wrong idc

Ok final thoughts: I actually really liked the game. It's far from a perfect game but I generally enjoyed it. I'm glad I sat down and played it (for 100 fucking hours). Anyway, this is all just my opinions, I'm not bothered or anything if you don't agree with something I said. If you want to leave a comment either agreeing or disagreeing, I'd appreciate it as long as you're not a dick about it

[archangeldyke-all]

player reader (fuckgirl) falls in love with sev? and they are insecure (both) so together work on it and love cuddles soft love love love fluff

i love this

men and minors dni

here's the thing. you never meant to fall in love with her.

sevika's your best friend. it's been that way since the day you met.

you both have the same hobbies (drinking, smoking and fucking,) and you have the same sense of humor, the same quiet nature. you guys get along like a house on fire.

you spend your nights going out with sevika and coming home with whatever stranger you managed to pick up for the night.

you spend your days laughing and joking with sevika, sharing meals and drinks and smokes.

you guys are practically attached at the hip.

which is why it sucks so bad that you've fallen in love with her.

sevika's probably the only person you know who sleeps around more than you. and she has repeatedly told you how much relationships freak her out-- how they'd never work for her.

so you don't say anything.

you cut back on your 'fucking' hobby and get a little more reliant on the other two.

you watch sevika put the moves on anything with a pulse as her gaze seems to mindlessly skip over you.

you consider running away.

she knows you're acting weird. you can tell. she's been a little softer with you, a little more inquisitive than usual. she's fishing for information-- and you're not gonna tell her anything.

at least, that's your plan.

that's your plan until you're trying to cancel on your nightly meet up at the last drop for the third night in the row, and sevika plants her ass on your couch and refuses to get up until you talk to her.

you break out your own personal stash of booze. if you're gonna do this, you might as well do it drunk.

sevika watches as you gulp down a forth of your bottle standing in front of her, before pulling it away and wiping the back of your mouth, then sighing and going in for one more big gulp. she chuckles.

"it can't be that bad. if it's a dead body i'll take care of it, you kn--"

"i'm in love with you." you blurt out. you don't look at sevika's face, you just take another long sip off the bottle then continue talking. "i'm in love with you and i didn't think i could really even do that anymore. i'm in love with you and you're like, the most unavailable person i know. i really didn't mean to fall in love with you, i just woke up one day and realized it was here. i don't know when it got here. it kinda feels like it's always been." you say. the couch in front of you creaks as sevika rises from it. you don't look at her.

"oh, that." she says. your eyes flick up at her, anger bubbling in your stomach.

"what the fuck's that supposed to mean? you knew?"

"'course i knew."

"and you didn't wanna tell me?"

"well, no, i didn't know you felt the same way yet." she says. you blink.

"what?" you ask. she shrugs. you shake your head. "when you say, 'oh, that,' what exactly are you talking about?"

"how we're in love with each other." she says with a shrug, like she's talking about the weather. you blink at her.

"what!?" you ask again. she chuckles and shrugs again.

"dunno. realized a few months ago. it freaked me out so i decided to wait for you to do something about it instead." she says. you blink again.

"what the fuck is wrong with you!?" you shriek. she chuckles.

"whatever it is, you seem to like it." she says with a smirk. you gawk at her.

"i can't decide if i should smack you or kiss you." you grumble out, pushing past her to slump onto the couch, taking another long sip of your bottle. sevika sits beside you, her side pressed against yours, and she reaches a hand out for the bottle. you hand it to her. she takes a long gulp.

"so... what do we do about it?" she asks. you laugh.

"you've known for months, sevika, you tell me."

she shrugs again. "i-- you know-- it's--" she grunts, then takes another sip. "we're already best friends." she says. you look over at her. "what would change? if we tried for real? nothing. except that instead of going home with other people we'd go home together." she says. "so... there's always that."

"would you want that?" you ask, shakily. her head snaps toward you.

"well, obviously. i'm fuckin' in love with you, dumbass." she says, looking you in your eye. you snort.

"you can't call me dumbass and say you love me in the same sentence, sev."

"fuck you, i can do what i want." she laughs. you smile.

"oh really? care to give me a demonstration?" you tease. she grins, then wraps her arm around your shoulders and shoves you down to lay on the couch beneath her. she crawls over you and pauses with her lips an inch away with yours.

"yeah." she whispers, before pressing her lips against yours.

kissing sevika is like heaven. you both gasp as your tongues brush, sevika's grip in your shirt tightening.

when she starts to grind down on you, you push her away. "we should--"

"go slow, yeah." sevika says, clearing her throat and pulling away. you giggle at her half lidded lust filled eyes. she rolls her eyes at you, then flops down on top of you, nuzzling her head against your breast.

"i really wasn't kidding when i said i didn't want to go out tonight, you know. it's all rainy and gross out." sevika hums against you. "can we just stay here?" you ask, your hand coming up to start scratching her scalp. she melts against you.

"yeah. we can get pizza or somethin'. 's a real romantic first date." she mumbles, already falling asleep on top of you. you laugh and press a kiss to her head.

"we'll do our first date on a different night. i'm kinda into holding you right now." you say. she grumbles, her hand reaching up to cover your lips. you gently bite her fingertips and she huffs, sitting up and glaring down at you. "sorry. sleepy time, you're right, go ahead." you say. sevika shakes her head no as she rises from the couch. you pout.

"come on." she grunts, tugging you off the couch. "i'm dying to try out your bed. i've been thinking about that memory foam mattress since helping you lug that thing home from the store." she says, wandering toward your bedroom. you laugh as you follow her.

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut

[jusalle]

★ Kylian Mbappe Imagine ★

• reporters •

(Also suggtions or request are open so I'll gladly do them!💙)

"Go Mon Amour, I'll be fine" you said softly to Kylian.

Currently, Kylian had to do a interview. It wasn't a big one, it was almost as if a press conference.

Kylian simply didn't want to go cause he wanted just to go home and be with you.

Although Kylian dosn't want to go, if you tell him to go, he goes for you.

So in end, he ends up going.

" Good luck Ky" you smiled at your fiance and went to go chance in the lockerooms as your fiance goes into the press conference room.

You had to change since you finished practice with Kylian. Since the both of you played for PSG.

And yes, you were in the mens division, sadly to say.

You loved to be on the same team as your Fiance. It was wonderful, but it had its cons to it to but there was of course PSG fans that didn't support a women being in a men's division.

You understood why but you were a good player and you benefited the team.

Kylian has seen the things people have said about you and it simply bugs him. Even though it shouldn't and you've told him it dosnt matter, still it still annoys him.

☆☆☆☆

As Kylian walked in the room. He saw flashing lights and more people there than usual

He walked to his seat and saw people raise there hands up immediately.

As he picked people to ask him questions, most of the questions were just either about his stats or somthing that's been happening with team members.

As time went on he noticed that the reporters were asking questions about you now and then, but they were all about how your stats in a mens division.

He didn't mind the questions atfirst but they were getting more hateful towards you and he started to get annoyed. He just wanted to go home.

As he took his last question, he was happy it was his last question but it caught him off guard.

" As we know Y/n is your fiance and all but simply I don't think she should be allowed to be on the men's division and I think many people agree and her stats haven't been the best-.. she's simply dreadful"

Simply by that Kylian was furious. You were the best player he knew, if you were good enough to get on the men's division, that simply shows something.He already hated how people talked to you on social media. Then now he has to deal with this stupid idiot.

" At least her stats are better than some other people's. You cannot talk down on somebody when you don't even simply fucking know them. Your talking as if you can do any better" Kylian said as he scoffed

" You people act, as if your simply better than her. She's a women in a mens division and that shows somthing." Kylian said as his voice was even more angier than before.

The reporter was simply shocked at Kylians outrage, he didn't expect it to say the least.

Kylian knew this was going to be everywhere but he didn't care, he had to get it off his chest sooner or later.

Kylian got up from his chair and he was so angry he didn't even want to talk no more or even look at the reporter.

He walked out the room and saw his teamates with worried faces which indicated they saw what happened.

Kylian simply ignored them, he didnt do it to be rude, he simply was irritated and didn't want to take his anger out on his friends.

He walked to the lockerooms and saw you getting your bags.

You heard footsteps so you turned and saw Kylian but he looked irritated.

"Mon Amour, what happend?" you said softly as you walked up to Kylian and pressed your hand on his right cheek.

He just stared into your eyes, not awnsering your question.

" Kylian? What's wrong?" You said softly once again.

You saw in his eyes, that he was conflicted to tell you but he decided in the end to tell.

" They kept talking shit about you Mon Amour, how your somehow dreadful? And you shouldn't be on a men's team, it's all bullshit Y/n, then even on social media they talk about you Amour. You know I hate when people do that, I just got mad at the reporter and blew up on him" Kylian said with soft eyes

You simply signed to Kylian and looked at him.

" Mon Amour, you didn't need to do that, you know. They all talk Ky, you should know that by now." you said as Kylian frowned.

" You don't deserve the hate or comments you get Mon Amour, I simply just was completely done with the hate and I had to say something" He said as he stared into your eyes.

At that point, you understand how your fiance felt and you weren't mad, you just felt like you didn't deserve him.

He's simply to good for you.

You didn't say anything as you pulled Kylian closer into a gentle kiss as saying 'thank you'.

" I really don't deserve you Ky. I really dont" You said softly

Kylian simply chuckles at your comment

" I think it's the other way around Mon Amour. I think you simply to good for me Amour, I love you so much" Kylian said as he put his lips next to your ear as your body felt weak.

" I love you to Ky" as you smiled at Kylian

Both of you stopped looking at eachother when both of your phones went off like crazy at the same time.

The both of you confused, looking at your phones.

As you looked at your phone the first thing you saw made you smile and chuckle.

"Kylian Mbappe has an outrage against an reporter for the reporter talking bad about his fiance Y/n L/n. What a lovely couple" you said repeating what you were seeing to Kylian as you chuckled.

As you read that Kylian face flushed and looked away from you.

" it was expected sooner or later Ky, the media is fast especially in the sports area" you said as you look at Kylian with a small smile.

" Ky my love don't worry, people have to understand why you did it. I'll even say somthing if I have to Ky"

That got Kylians attention and now he was facing you.

" it's fine Mon Amour, well work past it, the both of us" Kylian said with a smile

That made you knees go weak and you didn't know why but it just did.

" I love you Kylian, I don't think you understand how much I do" you said grinning at Kylian.

" I love you more Y/n"

" that's impossible Kylian"

☆☆☆☆

Hello my lovlies ik this one is eh but I havnt posted in awhile, but I just hadn't had any ideas or anything 😞 but I'll probably try to post everyday! I hope you lovlies enjoy this short one and I apologize if it isn't the best.💙🤍

[asliceofzosan]

please do continue your thoughts on the hockey player sanji and figure skater zoro bc i am eating it like a feral dog rn 👀👀👀👀👀🫦

with pleasure !! fair warning, i don't know every single thing about both sports. i've retained info from when i was super obsessed with them but i might not be the most accurate HAHAHA this one is about zoro as a figure skater ! mayhaps if u send me another ask, i can talk about sanji as a hockey player :>

when i was thinking about figure skater zoro, the first thing that came to my mind was which discipline would he major in. when he was a kid, i think he was dead set on being an olympic gold medalist and was determined to get it alone. so he wanted to be the best in the mens singles discipline. i saw someone wrote in the tags of my post that sword fighting is akin to figure skating (at least in singles) to not be a team sport. for the most part, it really isn't. especially since early zoro, who was determined to become the best figure skater in the world, didn't think being in a team yet mattered to his goal.

in this au, i envision that kuina just had a major spinal injury that left her unable to skate again. kuina and zoro had the same childhood coach (kuina's dad) and eventually zoro changed coaches when he grew up and decided to switch to pairs skating. (his current coach is mihawk — former 3 time olympic gold medalist. twice in mens singles and once in pairs. debating on whether his one skating partner before retirement would be perona or someone else)

the reason why i think he'd much rather go for pairs skating over ice dancing is due to pairs skating being more acrobatic. which isn't to say he hasn't considered it before !! some of his other figure skating idols are in ice dancing. however, he found pairs skating more appealing to him and his personal goal.

the absolute trust as well that you and your partner have is crucial. zoro entering pairs skating ties into what his philosophy of strength is. he can't be the best alone. he can be the best with nami as his skating partner, who trusts him implicitly to catch her every time she's tossed into the air. there's also so many opportunities to push himself mentally and physically when in pairs. it's not just you on the ice. you can't be the only one who looks good. your partners and you have to be in sync the entire time. this definition from the us figure skating site sums it up pretty well:

"The pairs event combines the athleticism of singles skating with the challenge of unison and the acrobatics of overhead lifts and throws. Each movement is performed in unison, requiring a significant amount of timing and trust between partners." (usfigureskating)

also on a personal note, i have a very self-indulgent headcanon that zoro is very musically inclined. probably took lots of dance and ballet lessons as a kid to strengthen his skillset for skating. he's very strict with hitting beats just right and feeling the flow of the music from his head down to his toes. thats very important in figure skating. zoro considers the presentation score just as important as the technical score and anyone who says otherwise is stupid.

he's very defensive over his sport. he's had to be held back from fist fights before with obnoxious hockey kids who thought his sport was lame and not a real sport. that's part of the reason why he never found interest in hockey. though his best friend luffy is a fantastic athlete in his own right, he can't for the life of him ever find it enjoyable. (except when the teams go into fights on ice. he cheers for luffy to punch people in the face every time)

ofc zoro only really ends up having more interest in the sport when sanji joins luffy's team a few years later. but that's a story for another day ;)

[1heavy-heart]

𝗜 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗵𝗶𝗺 - 𝗣𝗲𝗱𝗿𝗶 𝗚𝗼𝗻𝘇𝗮𝗹𝗲𝘇  🌹

english is not my native language, if there is any mistake here please tell me 😘

.............................................................................................................................

pov: where s/n and Pedri are chosen to be best men at the wedding but they don't get along very well.

pov y/n

It's been about 5 months since Ferran and his girlfriend Sira got engaged, and since then they've been choosing their godparents and godparents for the wedding. They called me via video last week to invite me to this role, I was very happy, after all I've been friends with Sira since I arrived in Barcelona, ​​which has been about 4 years and Ferran is an incredible guy.

I was curious to know who the other chosen ones would be, I had some guesses like Gavi and a few other players from Barcelona, ​​who are good friends with Ferran. I just hoped Pedri Gonzalez wouldn't be chosen, but I already knew that was impossible, as the two are close friends.

I hear my cell phone ring and I answer:

-Hey y/n, how are you?

-Hi Sira, I'm fine and you?

-I'm fine too, friend, you're invited to dinner tonight, Ferran and I decided to gather the godparents and godparents to talk, get to know each other.

-Oh that's great friend, I was going to ask you who were the other chosen ones. - I laugh.

-Let's take the opportunity and decide on the pairs of godparents, for those who are single. - She was up to something just by the tone of her voice.

-And how will it be? Will you decide or will it be a draw?

-you'll know at the time, friend, don't worry. - she giggles.

After she told me the time and place for dinner, we said goodbye.

Sira's lack of information made me anxious, I know her and I know when she's up to something, the time passed quickly, soon it was 6:30 pm and I went to take a shower and then get ready for dinner, which would be at 20:00 at Ferran's house (mansion actually, right). After a long shower, I decided to wear a black top and skirt set with golden sandals, I did a basic make-up and when I saw it it was already 7:45 pm, with luck I wouldn't be late.

Despite the traffic I arrived at Ferran's house at 20:01, I rang the bell and Sira welcomed me, when I entered I saw that there were several people I didn't know, it would be good to socialize with new people. Gavi saw me with Sira and came to my side hugging me and said:

-Hey, how are you my dear friend? If you want to come with us, we're sitting by the pool outside.

-I'm fine, of course I'm coming. - I said and smiled.

After greeting and being introduced to people I didn't know, Sira took me to where the boys were, I said hello to everyone and I sat down, I was grateful that Pedri wasn't there, but I was surprised at the same time, but a poor man's happiness doesn't last long and soon I see him walk through the door, he faces me and comes to my side.

-and it's not like the most annoying girl in the world came too, just missing you, as always. - He loved teasing me because he knew I got irritated easily.

-And you, for a change, have a sharp tongue, you know, I want to see it when I cut it out.

-ui, how is she mad today, is she tpm?

- It doesn't interest you. - I was already trying to put my finger in his face when Gavi enters between the two of us:

-Enough Enough, the little show is over, it's still early. - He laughs and pulls Pedri telling him to keep to himself.

I talked with the boys for a long time and we had dinner, then Sira and Ferran wanted to share the godparents who were without a partner, everyone gathered in a circle and Sira said it would be a draw. There were several people included in the draw, besides me there was Gavi, Ansu, de Jong, some of the couple's friends, Sira's friends and the unbearable Pedri.

-Let's start guys, the first pair is Ansu and Alicia - (Sira's fictional friend kk) - said Ferran.

-My turn to draw love, De Jong and Jane - (another fictional friend)

The draw continued and I was hoping to win with Gavi, because we were very good friends or anyone else other than Pedri.

-And now we have Pedri with…. a (y/n) - Sira announced and I looked at her with an indignant face, she just shrugged. I felt that she had set this up with Ferran, they've been trying to smooth over our rivalry for a long time.

Pedri came close to me and sat next to me, saying: - I think I'm very unlucky and so are you.

-If you didn't like it, ask to change it. - I shrugged.

-You didn't like it either, why do I have to ask?

-Because you're immature and don't accept it, unlike me who force myself to be mature and agree, after all I'm not like you who throw a tantrum over everything.

-I think you loved it and now you're using excuses not to show it.

-Shut up Pedri.

-You shut up.

-Shut me up. - I said and I regretted it because he came as if he was going to kiss me on the mouth, knocking down the angry pose I was.

-You thought I was going to kiss you, didn't you? - He laughs in my face.

-No, you're an idiot. - I roll my eyes.

-If you want me to kiss you, just ask, you don't have to be nervous when I get so close.

-unbearable, Gonzalez, that's what you are. - I roll my eyes one more time.

Now I was just thinking about this wedding, how am I going to bear being the date of a guy as boring as Pedri Gonzalez

[darkfictionjude]

I haven't been paying attention to the news (don't live near the US and too worried about uni applications to care) but I'm...very confused: the options were a normal person and a guy with literally every card against humanity under his belt? And people chose the latter? Willingly?

People don't make sense to me on a regular basis. Anyway!

Raven Rae-Rae Cairo Crown is a lithe high schooler with no social skills and a fist-magnet inside his mouth. Everytime he opens his mouth (i.e., everytime someone acts stupid, which is likely to occur once an hour), a fist is magically attracted to his face. He dodges. Usually. He finds his visage rather pretty and would prefer not to lose it (Orla has nothing on him). Curly black hair reaching his ears, dark skin, and black eyes.

He cares for nobody except Sally, Lorcan (they're basically besties and Rae-Rae will get Lorcan to admit it one day), Imre, and (even though he pretends he's gotten over it) Nia. Percy who? Orla who? Who **** knows?! If Sally died he'd probably stash all the ROs in a basement underground and then set the town on fire. Then walk into the lake and become a lake god. He'd probably release the ROs first. Probably.

An unhealthy fascination with corpses. Works out as a coping mechanism because if he's going to be a social pariah, he'll be a hot social pariah. I made two paths for two different ROs (though their personalities are largely the same, except Lorcan's Rae-Rae is more impulsive while Imre's Rae-Rae is creepy and intense).

Lorcan's Rae-Rae likes to punch out his anger while Imre's Rae-Rae takes it like a man (boy...youthful forest spirit...arcane river nymph...thing). Lorcan's Rae-Rae also has a liking for arson and violence while Imre's Rae-Rae employs 'ScareFace', a tactic that works on approximately 90+ percent of the population of Croun. Exclusions and their reactions are as follows:

Lorcan: Will laugh and kick him in the crotch (both on the romance path and on the friends' path). On the romance path there's the added bonus that Rae-Rae's into it (once the pain fades, of course. He's still a sensitive baby with too many contradictions to name).

Imre: Will laugh and treat him like a kitten trying to be scary. Probably make fun of him, causing Rae-Rae to sulk until the pouting is kissed out of him (or he'll just sulk until Imre says something. Even on the friendly path he's desperate for cuddles).

Nia: Unimpressed. She's just unimpressed and sadly resigned to the fact that Rae-Rae still thinks he's scary.

Sally: Will ask him why he's angry. Most likely to actually make Rae-Rae feel better. Most likely to get a hug from Rae-Rae.

Percy: Will laugh until Rae-Rae threatens to tell Sally that Percy slapped him.

Rae-Rae would like to say upfront that he does not take interviews unless he's paid by the minute and his plans for the future are to marry rich (or make Lorcan get a job because he's too spoiled to do it). If you'd like to reach out and ask him to model, he will very likely agree. Starting prices are 1 million USD per shoot. Terms and conditions applied.

So regarding the politics, the thing with the US is that even if you don’t live near it they are a major world player and so the election affects the future of a lot of countries (I would say nearly all) so people all over the world are worried. And it actually makes sense why many voters voted for him: 1) people don’t like women 2) people don’t like black women. Men who are horrible have been elected throughout history over better candidates time and time again

What’s very interesting about this is that it’s the first OC with these kinds of headcanons. The ones I’ve gotten are more depressed and confused haha (I guess it’s people trying to go within the boundaries of in-character Crowny) this is the first OC Crowny I’ve seen who’s kind of extrovert? It’s jarring but in a fascinating nice way because it gets me thinking what Crowny would be like if they were more conventionally attractive and social 🤔

I haven’t heard the nickname Rae-rae in years reminds me of that’s so raven which was a show I loved

add another vote to the OCs I’ve gotten who are toxically dependent on Sally but oddly enough the first OC who really despises Orla surprised it took this long!

Your OC is kind of a budding psycho 😭 I’m saying that in an admiring way by the way psycho crownies are very fun

[ultimatebottom69]

Why do you like HS more than HSR? That's pretty interesting knowing most rc players dont really like Vicky and the story. And what do you think about Vicky and Lane as a MC? Which one do you like better and why? I saw the majority of readers liking Lane more because how smart and introspective she is, meanwhile you think she's no different than Vicky. Why?

Yeah I like HS more. I didn't know most players prefered Lane from Vicky tbh. Not many people like Vicky to start with due to her stupidity (That I find funny) so I just assumed the ratio was rather equal. As an MC i prefer Selena from Arcanum over these two.

I like Vicky simply because she makes me laugh. I don't want a relatable MC. This gal is not relatable at all in any capacity. I mean I don't wear dresses. I just like to see her reactions to every problem is just the worse solution everytime. Girl got an Art degree and is saving the multiverse people this is absolutely hilarious.

Lane and her both got the depression squad on lock (HS2 Vicky I mean on Composure path) , both are fashionnistas and both are kind of the choosen ones which is normal they are MC's. Lane monologue really brings the story alive in HSR because without it. Well...Yeah. Vicky has barley any thoughts but that's because HS1 and HS2 are dialogue focused instead of storytelling through the MC's eyes.

Vicky gets chased by every men for no reason ? Well sorry to burst some bubbles but Lane does get chased by every man in the story too. It's a romance story. It is super evident when you don't interact with Cain and Dmitry you talk to them almost 24/7 even if you try to have an hostile relationship meanwhile i gotta fight to even talk to Anna and Mimi respectively.

But again i am an F/F player so the personality of both MC's aren't even as horny as everyone complaining about. Feels chill which doesn't bother me as an asexual gal.

Vicky starts to be clingy towards Mimi in HS2, which is reciprocated. They genuinely feel like a couple going through some real bullshit together, in HS1 friends with benefits who slowly realises they are gay for each others. (My shock is how chill Vicky is with Mimi's former crush on Lucifer and how it's never adressed again. 10/10) Bisexual representation babyyyyy. The Bar was in sub-hell and we flew above.

And for HSR the romance route with Anna does not feel like a romance at all since Lane keeps going on and on on her lack of understanding to her attraction to women. Which kills me because bitch it's season 2.

Meanwhile Vicky got over it...fast as fuck. Like so fast it is a tad incredible. No internalized homophobia or anything girl went "I guess I love her."

The true problem with HSR is not only the female LI is sidelined which is fine by the way i am used to it. But I am not getting attached to any of the characters at all despite trying. Yeah Noah is cool but. He had 2 interactions with Lane, 3 actually. After 2 seasons. Kira except for her stabbing attempt do not talk at all to Lane unless you initiate the contact and even that it's super short. The Tatoo guy says his backstories and that's it. Greg. Is Greg. Cain is...Mysterious but in a "I hate talking to people" way not in a sexy way or entertaining. I don't get what the fuck he is doing 3/4 of the time except his job. Pigeon. And the angel gal are just here for plot exposure. Dmitry gets very boring very quickly if it's friendship. The story lacks "interactions"

In HS. Even if you don't interact with the characters, they talk to each others. A lot. I can tell you right now the statut of each and every relationship in HS. Yes even Austie and Leelo. The two bitches we saw like 5 times total I can tell you, Austie is "friends" with Mimi, Sex Friends with Lucifer, Ennemy of Vicky (one-sided as fuck) , Ennemy of Rebecca, Situationship with her dad.

Leelo, Favorite student of Fencio, Crush on Dino (One sided), Ennemy of Vicky (One sided). I think she has the worse relationships with her parents due to her speech beforr her death.

And mind you I didn't care about Leelo at all but I managed to analyze with the dialogues where she stood in the story.

Now let's do that with HSR. Shall we ?

Kira, Relationships : Noah colleague (No interaction), Pileon Suspecious Colleague, Anthea (No interaction) , Tatoo Guy (3 interactions) Colleague, Cain (No interaction), Dmitry Chef of the squad Absolutely a crush. Greg (No interaction) Colleague, Anna Colleague/Friend, Lane Colleague/Ennemy (one sided, Lane's monologue is not very clear about her stand ?)

See this shit ? This is a character that was introduced in episode 1. How comes ?? I could do the whole squad but this is how it looks mostly. Anna is the only one with friendly interactions and Lane is the one most hated generally.

So yes. HS is better then HSR. For that regard 100%. Now the plot points can be argued and talked upon, but for these regard I am not hearing anyone out.

[irrigos]

interpreters in fallen london, ranked by how badly they violate the Code of Professional Conduct

I'm using the Registry of Interpreters for the Deaf's CPC, because thats what I learned. none of these characters would actually fall under the jurisdiction of RID, because its an American organization. and also. was founded in 1964. I also acknowledge that none of the clients these interpreters are interpreting for are, in fact, deaf, but I don't know anything about spoken language interpreting, and I feel like the needs of these specific clients are more akin to the interpreting needs of deaf clients I've had than anything else. (Also, the CPC calls them "consumers", I prefer "clients" because that's what I learned, but people will use either and it doesn't matter that much)

This post is very long, and there's not even that many people on it! I could have made it shorter, but I already didn't do that. You're the one who chose to read it! That's not my problem!

The CPC:

RID's Code of Professional Conduct was written in collaboration with the National Association of the Deaf in 2005 (replacing their prior Code of Ethics). It has 7 tenets, which each have several points of illustrative behaviors. I decided to cite the specific illustrative behaviors that these interpreters fail to perform, because I thought that would be more interesting and thorough. And no one will ever accuse me of not being thorough.

Here is the CPC presented in American Sign Language, and here it is in written English. It's not a very long or complex document, if you're interested in reading it yourself. I can't really imagine anyone WOULD be that interested in the code of conduct for a profession you're not in, unless you're like... me... but hey, there it is.

Barqujin:

Batachikhan's interpreter in Mask of the Rose. He wants to leave the amber warrens beneath London and go start a shop, but she thinks it's a bad idea. Purposefully interprets Batachikhan incorrectly to try to convince the player to help with her plan instead (facilitating a slower, more planned introduction of Rubbery Men into London society.) Is clearly threatened by the player character also being able to understand Batachikhan, since she spent years with the Rubberies learning their ways and you're just some dipshit. Also can have a threesome with the player and Batachikhan.

Tenets violated:

2.3 ("Render the message faithfully by conveying the content and spirit of what is being communicated, using language most readily understood by consumers, and correcting errors discreetly and expeditiously.") She is very much not faithfully rendering the message

4.1 ("Consider consumer requests or needs regarding language preferences, and render the message accordingly") This might seem like the same as 2.3, but this one focuses more on language preferences than content, eg using Signed Exact English instead of pure ASL if that is what the client prefers. So this would be like when Batachikhan is writing and breaks the chalk, and Barqujin gets annoyed and refuses to get more. Not respecting the method by which her client would like to communicate.

Conclusion:

I put her first on the list (so, least bad) because she at least DOES seem to care about Batachikhan and his well-being, even if she's pretty shitty about it. Also, I'm counting the time she spent in the amber warrens as "professional development", so she IS fulfilling tenet 7.0 ("Interpreters engage in professional development.") although I don't know how many CEUs that would be worth. Really, I think Barqujin is a good example for why the Americans with Disabilities Act says that a "companion" (family member, guardian, friend, religious leader, etc) cannot be counted as a qualified interpreter in most circumstances. Barqujin lacks the impartiality required to be an effective interpreter!!

The Sagacious Ape

In the ambition Hearts Desire, your monkey friend Gregory Beechwood hires an interpreter from the Empire of Hands to facilitate him actually having a conversation with you. Probably should come before Barqujin, technically, as her misconduct is probably worse (it's pretty bad to purposefully interpret something incorrectly because YOU think they should have said something different! that is generally Frowned Upon!) but he bothers me more. Also you could argue that Barqujin is not operating in the game as a Certified Interpreter who is bound by the code of conduct, but as a bilingual friend doing a favor, so… idk. Barqujin gets to be less bad because the Sagacious Ape bothers me so much more.

Tenets violated:

2.2 (“Assess consumer needs and the interpreting situation before and during the assignment and make adjustments as needed.”) Maybe a nitpick to start us off, but I was trained to always show up at least 15 minutes early, so you can meet with your client for a bit and figure out their linguistic needs. And the Sagacious Ape did not do that, although I SUPPOSE I can allow for the possibility that they met sometime off-screen.

I GUESS. 2.3 (Render the message faithfully, etc.) Tries to downplay Beechwood's tone/language use. He keeps making little asides objecting to Beechwood's swearing, or doing what seems to be downplaying the intended tone. Sorry, Mr Ape Interpreter. Gregory Beechwood wants to say fuck and you and I both know it. You gotta say the fuck word.

2.5 (“Refrain from providing counsel, advice, or personal opinions.”) Guessed what Beechwood wanted from the Marvelous before Beechwood said anything. You are not a participant in this conversation, man! You don't get to give your input here!

Conclusion:

Unfortunately, I am in love with Barqujin so she gets a little more leeway than the Sagacious Ape. And he's also the only one on this list who is licensed, so he has no excuse. But frankly, worse than the CPC violations, his greatest crime was doing my two biggest interpreter pet peeves. 1. He doesn't interpret into first person language (“He says he's sorry“ should instead be ”I'm sorry.“ This is a thing you learn in literally day 1 of an Interpreter Training Program.) 2. He calls himself a translator and not an interpreter, even though he is interpreting and not translating (I actually emailed FBG about this when it came up with the last election, but I don't know if they went back and fixed it in HD, too. I'd already beaten it by then. But a translator takes a static text in one language and converts it into another language, and an interpreter takes a live text in one language and converts it into another. An interpreter is working in the moment, so you'd have one at doctors appointments or presentations or plays, and a translator is working over time, so you'd hire a translator to work on a book or an article or a poem. I have done lots of interpreting and very little translating.) So, sorry Sagacious Ape. We ARE voting you off the island.

A small addendum to the entry on the Sagacious Ape- I couldn't find a good way to fit this in, but he reminds me almost more of a Deaf Interpreter than an Interpreter for the Deaf. A Hearing interpreter (or an interpreter for the deaf) would be a Hearing person who is fluent in both sign language and English (or, well, probably any spoken language, really) and interprets between the two. A Deaf interpreter is one who is themselves Deaf. Their role is to take the interpretation from the Hearing Interpreter and make it into more natural, fluent sign language, and to take the sign language of the client and make it easier for the Hearing interpreter to interpret correctly. They primarily work with people who are multiply disabled, or have some other language disability. The situations I've seen where a Deaf interpreter has also been hired have been for things like the client being DeafBlind, the client having cerebral palsy, or the client experienced language deprivation and isn't fluent in sign language. I think the Sagacious Ape is a little more like a Deaf interpreter because, while monkeys in Fallen London CAN speak (clearly, as the Sagacious Ape can!) Beechwood is not able to communicate in any language, so the Sagacious Ape is interpreting off of things like gestures and grunts. And that's closer to what I've seen Deaf interpreters do with clients who went through language deprivation than it is to any interpreting work I've ever done. Just a fun thought I wanted to share, even though it's not really relevant to the list.

The Nocturnal Landscape Artist

The Nocturnal Landscape Artist (who is also sometimes in game referred to as the Nocturnal Landscape Painter) was the Tentacled Entrepreneur's interpreter during the election of 1898, and was fired later, in Helicon House. I hate him terribly, and he's my favorite representation of an interpreter in the game.

Tenets violated:

1.1 (”Share assignment-related information only on a confidential and “as needed” basis.”) This might be a bit of a stretch, but during the election, you could get drunk with him and he'd talk a little shit about how actually TE doesn't know anything and HE'S the real brains here. Obviously this is incredibly inappropriate, but I'm also gonna say it's breaking confidentiality. Yknow. Among other problems.

2.5 (“Refrain from providing counsel, advice, or personal opinions.”) He was involved in TE's mayoral campaign to provide counsel and advice, while also providing interpreting services

3.5 ("Conduct and present themselves in an unobtrusive manner and exercise care in choice of attire.") I guess it's a little different for him, because he's not ACTUALLY a sign language interpreter, but generally speaking, I always had a VERY strict dress code, which boiled down to basically wearing only solid, dark colors, like black or navy. I guess they don't really describe the Painter in the game that much, but I mean… look at this guy. Do you think this guy is capable of being unobtrusive? I do not.

3.8 ("Avoid actual or perceived conflicts of interest that might cause harm or interfere with the effectiveness of interpreting services." The CPC defines a conflict of interest as "A conflict between the private interests (personal, financial, or professional) and the official or professional responsibilities of an interpreter in a position of trust, whether actual or perceived, deriving from a specific interpreting situation.") The Artist is literally involved with TE to better himself. During the election, he one time says ”We'll be the mayor“ which is. Yikes, man.

3.10 (”Refrain from using confidential interpreted information for the benefit of personal or professional affiliations or entities.“ See above.)

6.6 ("Refrain from harassment or coercion before, during, or after the provision of interpreting services.") Shows up at TE's art show without being invited, in an attempt to berate him. Cringe.

Conclusion:

"He needs me. As a teacher. A mentor. Fortunately, he does act on my advice. An' we both have the same goals. …You have to keep this to yourself. He's the money, but I'm the brains. We'll be mayor, just you see." BAD!!! I hate this man!! But the reason he's my favorite representation of an interpreter I've seen in this game, and quite possibly ANY game, is that… I've totally met this guy. Every Deaf person I know who has needed an interpreter has met this guy. There is a certain kind of person who becomes an interpreter (or really goes into any field that involves working closely with a marginalized group) primarily because they think that these poor people need their HELP. THEY know what's best for their clients! And they're going to see that done! Client's input be damned! It makes my skin crawl. The role of an interpreter is complex, and there are a lot of different opinions about how much an interpreter should interpret cultures as well as language, and this is made even MORE complex when you're interpreting for someone who is marginalized BECAUSE of this culture and language. But the Nocturnal Landscape Painter is clearly convinced that TE is going about everything wrong, and he's using his position as TE's interpreter to try to force him into what the Painter thinks is correct. And then has a big baby tantrum when TE does what he wanted to do anyway! It's no wonder they aren't friends anymore, if they ever were to begin with. I was glad that I got to throw this dude out of Helicon House. Wish I could do the same to everyone in my interpreting training cohort who thought it was their role to help all these poor sad Deaf people who couldn't get by without us. Gross.

In conclusion:

[soulsisterif]

LITG Season 9

(Not Soul Sister related, people, just ranting)

After weeks and weeks of not playing I got up to date with season 9 and... Well, actually I didn't finish playing the latest volume. Same disappointments as always. I'm not one to post to complain but I'm kinda frustrated. Ranting got too long, so, under the cut.

First off I understand that male LIs are also infuriating and that wlw players are not this game's target audience (then again, there are few of those) but dude, at this point I'd rather not have any sapphic options. The last route I recall being actually good (by which I mean the female LI not stringing me along à la Marisol until the very end) was Najuma's and Angie's, and that was season 4. Yes, you can only couple up with Angie at the end too, but you get so many info about her, and so many sweet moments and bonding that I didn't even care. And it's more about her being unsure of her feelings than unwilling to be with you. Quite relatable. Peak of this game for me, if I'm being honest. Good friends to lovers, even if they went too far too fast with the sex scene in my opinion. Still, it was very well written!

But every single season after that had the female LI fucking drooling over several men (and sometimes women too) and then adding a half-assed line like, "'oh, but I don't know, I have my eyes on someone else too', she gives you a wink". Like that makes it okay? I think the only truly unapologetically loyal female LIs were Najuma and AJ back in season 3.

They put so little thought into incorporating the wlw routes that to make them progress you have ludicrous paths. Like, in my playthrough Henri won a challenge and as a prize my MC could actually dismiss him and choose to go to the hideaway with Natasha or Kelly instead. Like ??? That's just bad writing.

What's worse, we can't even make friends anymore, it's all about romance, which wipes out most of the appeal this game had for me. Practically every islander, even after you reject them, comes at the MC confessing their undying love like a crazy stalker for no reason, because we know nothing about each other! Besides half of the options you have to get to know more about what's happening around you force you to be an insufferable gossip or a petty child. "Let's listen to a private convo, MC", "Why don't you sneak a kiss with guy 2 to make guy 1 jealous?" And you have to pay an unfair amount of gems to do it, on top of it!

I want to get to know the characters BEFORE I choose who I want to pick. I want to know the characters even if they are not romanceable. It's ridiculous, though, that there are seasons in which you know more about your besties than you do about your LI. That's why Angie, or Seb, or Nicky, or Viv or Thabi, hell, even Hope and Lottie, wth all their flaunted flaws are so appealing. That's why Season 2 is so goddam popular. We had actual interactions back then. Now, whatever interactions there are, you just witness.

This is also why people like games like Too Hot to Handle so much more. I'm not really into guys but I still play their routes because it's good content beyond romance stuff. Hell, Jirayu may be my favourite out of this season's bunch. And they're all different! It's an interactive game, choices should matter.

At this point I'll probably stop playing and limit myself to read other people roasting Fusebox. Honestly, a company that asks for the fans' opinions season after season just to ignore all the feedback doesn't deserve half the players they still have.

There, ranting over XD