#there is a reason why they are so popular

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.12 how you get the girl

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 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. 12/x (probably 18)

ᰔ words. 11.3k

a/n. man the color scheme for this chapter is kinda giving BRAT lolol...i mean gojo IS brat. anywho, i don't have much to say at the beginning of this chapter but i do have a LOT to say at the end of it sooo see y'all at the bottom!! hope u enjoy. also BIG THANK YOU to @whereflowerswenttodie who beta read parts of this chapter for me n convinced me not to scrap it lol

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1 :: ♬.*ﾟplaylist

11:03am you: hi! 11:03am you: good luck today 11:03am you: incase i don’t see you

11:05am Gojo Satoru: Why wouldn’t you? Aren’t you gonna be on the field for your newsletter shots?

11:07am you: i mean yes but idk where i’m gonna be stationed so 11:07am you: it might not be on UTokyo’s side of the field

11:08am Gojo Satoru: Okay then I’ll look for you before the game starts

11:10am you: no pls don’t. coach yaga thinks i distract you. i don’t want to get yelled at again. he scares me :(

11:12am Gojo Satoru: Haha you’re silly 11:13am Gojo Satoru: East side entrance at 2 11:13am Gojo Satoru: Be there

11:14am you: or be square?

11:15am Gojo Satoru: Yea whatever shape you wanna be in is fine cutie

It’s a bright sunny day outside, perfectly blue sky with a scattering of fluffy clouds seen outside the window of your shared room in your apartment, and you realize spring is fully here from the way birds chirp past the glass. You’re stuffing your camera case full of chilled Kodak film rolls, your last stash left, and it’s the last piece of equipment you pack before slinging the strap over your shoulder and heading out the door.

Mina had offered to give you a ride to the stadium since your car’s still at the shop, but you’re happy you opted for the bumpy bus ride and although you come close to low-grade concussions from the bang of your head to the window at every other speed bump, the music in your ears while someone else is operating a public transport vehicle helps you think creatively before shooting shots.

It was surprise enough that Mina of all people was going to this game, and when you questioned her about it in the morning, she looked at you like you were absurd to assume anyone from UTokyo wouldn’t be at this game, and sure enough, it’s all anyone on Instagram has been repping on their stories or talking about in the bustling minutes before lectures. Even Utahime was going to this game, and she hates all intercollegiate sports. You knew the game was a big deal, given the way Coach Yaga was yelled at via email by the Dean of UTokyo to make sure the team wins today because a multimillion dollar Nike sponsorship would be greenlit by the prospect (for some reason you were cc’d in an email chain among divisional higher-ups, but you weren’t opposed to snooping in on conversations that were entirely outside of your tax bracket).

It’s because it’s the second to last home game before the season ends, and apparently this has been statistically the best season the UTokyo D1 Men’s Soccer team has played since the new millenia. No pressure to the players on that fact, but failure wasn’t much of an option for them anymore. 

And you can feel the stakes the second you step inside the stadium. Packed would be an understatement, there were people flooding the aisles, overbooked for the sake of the university pocketing an extra buck no doubt, but spectators could care less since they were able to at least get in on the basis of that irresponsibility in the first place, despite the stadium’s capacity having long been reached before the pregame festivities even start. Banners and signs drape over railings with the school’s striking blue and golden colors, every single replay screen is lit up and brightly pixelated at every north, south, east, and west entrance for inclusive viewing. As you pass VIP security and make it into the lower field-level entry, the scattered chants from the crowd amplify in volume and you almost wince a little to yourself from the noise. The stadium felt like a living, breathing entity, pulsing with the collective heartbeat of everyone inside. 

You’ve never been more overstimulated in your life, except instead of finding it frightening, it was electrifying. And for once, you think you can understand what an athlete must feel when playing on their own home turf surrounded by those that are wholeheartedly rooting for them.

Hana is quick to spot you, panic clear across her face as she regards you with a couple pages with your assigned vantage points, a rushed briefing session, and then she’s darting down the sidelines to make sure equipment is set up appropriately where needed. She’s understaffed, given you told Utahime about Kai’s little intervention last week and she made a nasty point to the university (and possibly a handful of legal threats) and they relented in firing him. So now the three of you were down a photographer, and the extra work shows in the instructions she gave you as you skim the sheets. 

A glance at your phone tells you it’s close to 2pm, and your eyes take in the expanse of green on the field. UTokyo’s players practice kicking shots off to the right goal post, while YCU’s players practice shots off to the left. You can’t spot where Gojo is, but you faithfully head down to the East Side entrance like he asked you to. 

When you round the corner, you almost crash right into an Ichiko mascot, but swiftly dodge, and then you stop in your tracks when you see Gojo standing right at the concrete entrance. He’s leaning back against the adjacent wall, arms crossed at his chest, and he’s stretching his neck side to side with a creased brow, an intense look in his eyes, lost in serious thought, scanning the wall across from him like he’s mapping out plays in his head. 

When you approach him and catch the corner of his eyesight, he leans off the wall and flashes you one of his so extremely charmed to see you grins on reflex, and suddenly there’s nothing your senses seem to pick up on except him. Like everything else around you just disappears.

“Hey, you,” he says when he comes up to you, and you walk him like a dog back to a corner that’s tucked further away from noises and sights. You lean your back against the wall now, the coolness of concrete seeping through the fabric of your shirt, and he stands a step in front of you. Your hands toy with the strap of your camera.

“Are you ready to win today?” you ask him, and look off to the right into the flourishing seats that are still being filled to the brim, “clearly there’s no pressure.”

He breathes in deep, and releases it slowly, like there really was tension to relieve. “We’ve got no choice but to win.”

“Is that something Coach Yaga says to you guys often?” you ask him, because the man recited the same thing about five times in that email chain. “Also, apparently you take years off of his life.” Another thing he recited about five times in that email chain.

Gojo only addresses what he wants to address, as per usual. “Yeah, it’s something he says to us often.” 

“So,” you say, “what did you want to talk about?”

He looks at you puzzled, tilting his head to the side. “Nothing. I just wanted to see you.”

It’s hard to assume that he didn’t have something to talk about with the intention of telling you to meet him here, because this is the same place you confessed to him a few weeks ago, and so is also the place he so painfully rejected you. But maybe he doesn’t think about these kinds of things as much as you do. “I see.”

His tongue pokes to his cheek as he studies your anticipating expression, and then he sighs, his shoulders slumping slightly. “What are we doing? I mean, I like you, and you like me too, at least I hope you still do. Why don’t we—…why don’t we just give it a go already? I don’t see how we can move forward if you won’t at least let me take you out on a date.”

Your hands stop fidgeting with your camera strap from his words, and you lick your lips, suddenly unable to keep eye contact with him so your gaze drifts down to his chest in front of you. His uniform is clean, no smudges of dirt or grass, just pure white fabric underneath heat-pressed blue and golden accents, and of course, that signature number 10. You’re sure he’s all you’ll ever think of when you see that number now for the rest of your life. 

You know when you want something so bad you don’t know what to do once you have it? Because it almost seems too good to be true? 

“I just wanted to let stuff between us breathe for a little bit,” you confess, “it’s just, it was a lot to deal with. Being around you when I thought you didn’t want me the way I wanted you. I don’t know if this is odd to say, and maybe I’m overthinking it, but I just feel like somewhere along the way, I kind of…forgot who you were for a little bit.” This kind of vulnerability would have you running away with your tail between your legs with anyone else, but not with him. Not after everything. 

His expression softens, melting away that confrontational energy he had earlier, and he nods slowly. He opens his mouth to speak, but he can’t seem to find words. The presence of them is there, though, you can feel them. But what good are his thoughts if not voiced? 

“I just wanted to spend a little bit of time getting to know you again, I guess.” You squeeze your arm in reassurance of yourself because he wasn’t giving it to you. You let out an awkward laugh. “I don’t really know what I’m saying right now, to be honest.”

You can tell he’s at a crossroads, and you think back to this week and his efforts to get you to open up to him again. You know how he feels right now, because it’s exactly how you felt when he rejected you. Like when someone is so close, yet so far, you can feel that they’re within arms reach but never truly. And they’re slipping away for some reason that you may never know, but all you can do is assume that it’s a fault of your own. You’re not really sure what he can do to make you feel secure about this whole thing anymore, and you can see the slight panic in his eyes when he realizes that too.

“I don’t mind waiting,” he tells you, rushed with a desperation entirely contrary to his words, “what’s a week or two when I want to spend a lot more of those with you anyways.” But he takes a deep breath, like he’s already mentally preparing himself for an agonizing wait in his head.

There’s a sound over the stadium speakers, something technical and sporty and goes entirely over your head in dismissal, but to Gojo it seems to have a different effect, as he’s suddenly attentive and stands up straighter, that focused expression on his face from earlier resurfacing. You realize he needs to get back to the field. 

“Can we continue this conversation after the game?” he asks you hastily, already turning towards the center of the stadium. And he adds an obligatory, “sorry.”

“Yeah, sure,” you quickly agree, suddenly feeling like you’re taking up his time. 

He gives you a small smile, unsure in its presentation but pure in its intention. But he can only take one step towards the field before you reach out and pinch the fabric of his jersey to keep him still. He feels the tug of it and fully faces you once again. 

“Um. Just a sec,” you say, “I have something to give you before your game.”

“Oh?” he looks at you with interest, “I fucking love things.” 

“You have to close your eyes though.”

“…what is the thing…” He squints at you with a what are you up to expression.

“Just close your eyes!” you snap at him.

“Okay, okay, jeez,” he holds his hands up in front of him in surrender, shaking his head to get his hair out of his face and then he closes his eyes. “You’re scary as hell sometimes. Excuse me for being cautious.”

You roll your eyes, useless because he doesn’t see it, and then take a step towards him. You cup his jaw with the palm of your hand, his cheek twitching slightly from the unexpected contact, and then you raise on your tiptoes to press your lips to his cheek. It’s short and sweet with the sound of a peck.

“For good luck,” you whisper, then you quickly lower yourself back onto your heels, take a step back and tuck some strands of hair behind your ear. The ground suddenly interests you.

He opens his eyes, blinking a few times with shock and his hand comes up to brush the tips of his fingers against the spot you kissed him, and then his gaze goes comically dazed when he reaches out to hold you. “Alright, c’mere you,” he says, closing his eyes and puckering his lips as he leans down to kiss you but you laugh and push his face away.

“No no no, only on the cheek for now,” you say with a small laugh.

He does nothing to restrain his frustrated groan. “You can’t do something that cute and then expect me to be chill about it.”

“If you win, then, maybe I’ll let you kiss me for real.”

“Maybe?”

“Yes. Maybe.”

He’s close, towering over you near this bustling east side entrance that he seems to like so much, and his eyes drop to your lips. “Alright. I like those odds.” 

You give him a smile and slip away from him to get back towards the field, and you feel his eyes on you as you walk away.

The pregame events are a blur, with blaring music accompanied by the sounds of the sports announcers clipping across the speakers, finally quieted down in time for the players to line up on the field for the national anthem which was then followed by UTokyo’s alma mater. 

You’re stationed on the same side of the field as Minato, UTokyo’s side, while Hana is covering the sidelines of the opposite end with the opponents goal post. Minato’s filling up a cup of Gatorade for himself at the athlete’s station and then he comes back around to find you.

“Are you ready to take your shots? I see Hana wanted you to shoot on film today,” he says to you as he sloshes around Glacier Freeze in a flimsy plastic cup.

You twist your aperture dial with your thumb. “Yesss, all set. I’ll try to keep up.” 

He nods at you in approval.

The atmosphere feels nerve wracking. Something felt different about this game, the stakes feeling high. Well, of course they’re high, because if they lose today then they’re out of the tournament. But the stakes feel high for other reasons too, an energy you can pick up on but can’t quite discern. 

Your eyes drift across the field where you can see a referee placing a ball at the center of the field. Off to the right, you can see Gojo standing with a few of his other teammates, including Geto, Nanami, and Choso, and they’re all gesticulating to various corners of the field as they discuss what you can only imagine have to do with their plays for today. And you realize— it’s their last college soccer season. Their second-to-last official home match before the championship, and for those of them that haven’t qualified for the national league, it may be their second-to-last match of this caliber for the rest of their lives. One of the final chances that they have to prove something of themselves. The determination was palpable. 

The chief referee’s whistle cuts through the air with three short chirps, and that gathers the attention of all the players on the field. UTokyo wins the coin toss, choosing to kickoff, and YCU’s players choose to attack the left side goal.

Your stomach churns with anticipation, the crowd hushing too as all the players take their places on the field. If you feel nervous, you can only imagine how the athletes feel. There’s a rhythm that you’ve learned over the past couple of months getting to know the sport, where players stretch out their necks and kick out their feet and take subtle deep breaths as they survey the stands. Idle moments before the start of the match where they have no choice but to look forward and only forward, so they take a moment to stay in the present for as long as they can gather. You’ve never been much of a sports spectator, and perhaps you’ve only recently had some personal interest in the team, but you realize you feel pride in your school as you stand behind chalk sideline and see UTokyo’s colors scattered across the field in uniform. And fuck, you wanted them to win. You wanted them to win with fierceness and wrath, and it’s a desire you share with the crowd. 

Gojo spends a minute talking to the referee before the black and white striped man pats him high on the back in the good sport and urges him towards the center of the field. He lifts his foot up onto the ball, rolling it back and forth underneath the spikes of his cleat, and you can see it in his eyes, even from all the way over here, that he seems to have different ideas in mind for this game too. High stakes. Pre-determined, set with will, evident in the clench of his jaw and the concentrated furrow of his brow as he surveys the field with his eyes, and you’re lost in the sight for what feels like forever because you can hardly register the chirp of the ref’s whistle. 

And then the kickoff starts. 

The ball is tapped to Geto to start the play, and the first few minutes were intense as the ball was passed back and forth between UTokyo’s players, placing pressure on YCU’s defense as they inched closer and closer towards the goal. A pass between UTokyo’s #4 was intercepted by YCU and the ball was rushed down towards the left side, the crowd’s horror evident in the uproar as they raise to their feet in fearful anticipation, and with ruthless offense, YCU’s forward takes a clear sink shot towards the goal, and the crowd holds their breath before they watch Choso lunge for it in air, gloved hands firmly grabbing the ball and then pulling it to his chest with a possessiveness you can only expect to see from a skilled goalie, before he crashes down into the ground and the crowd releases relief in the form of rowdy roars.

Ten minutes in, with everyone on their toes, each team tested each other’s defenses. UTokyo were known for stellar offense, especially within the past few years with players like Gojo Satoru and Takuma Ino joining the league as powerful forwards, but UTokyo’s overall offense was still statistically second to none other than YCU. And the pressure YCU was putting on UTokyo’s defense was wearisome to say the least. You glance to see Nanami, who is UTokyo’s best defensive player, huffing and puffing as he stands between two light-footed YCU players in an attempt to guard, and fails an attempt to steal the ball before it gets to the feet of YCU’s striker #6, passed in a split second off to his teammate, with a fake so seamless that it has Choso just a couple inches away from touching the ball before it’s sent flying into the net. 

The noises from the crowd are still loud, but dampened in spirit. 

With the referees hand signal up in the air, the current score is confirmed. 0-1, YCU. 

Coach Yaga calls for a sub, in which he switches Nanami out for who you believe is a 2nd-year defensive player name Yuta you’ve seen around practice with a promising statistical record for interceptions, and you watch as Nanami takes the bench before he swipes the sweat off his face in exhaustion. God. Just fifteen minutes into the match, and YCU already has UTokyo’s defense winded from play. 

You bring your camera up to your face, forgetting for a moment that there was still a job to do here, and you position the direction of the lens towards the center of the field, where Gojo takes his place at the ball once more. Yuta briefly passes by him, signaling some play to him by holding up a number three, likely something Coach Yaga asked him to pass on to Gojo, and you see him briefly nod, his mouth slightly agape as he breathes slowly and pulls his jersey up to wipe at the sweat at his forehead. 

The referee chirps the whistle, Gojo taps the ball to Yuta, and the play starts. 

YCU immediately puts pressure on UTokyo’s offensive play once more, with eager movements to steal the ball, but it’s passed between UTokyo’s players with ease, more practiced and more sure. The kind of play that you and the rest of the school was used to seeing from them. However, Geto loses the ball on a left-back pass, but right when YCU makes attempts to cover field in a long-shot kick towards the left, Yuta intercepts the ball and swiftly passes it to Gojo.

The crowd immediately rises to their feet in anticipation, watching as Gojo shuffles the ball down the field, dangerously close to off-field boundaries, a signature tactic he uses because he knows there’s not a single player in the league that can match him in precision and control to keep the ball in-field on a steal, and he swiftly passes it towards Geto with a side-swept kick, beelining down towards the goal post, in perfect time for Geto pass-back to meet his feet and when Gojo was this close to a net, there was no stopping him. 

He draws his right foot back, and explosively kicks the ball forward, chipping the grass under it in the motion, and it’s sent flying towards the goal, and then threaded past the goalie right to the back of the net. The cheers that erupt across the stadium rumble the ground beneath you. 

1-1, even match.

UTokyo spends no time celebrating, other than a few pats to Gojo’s back as he nods in acknowledgement, no emotion on his face other than pure concentration and greed. The greed to win, like a righteous sin. He stretches his neck out, panting slightly as he takes his place towards the right side of the field and the referee chirps his whistle to signal YCU to start the kickoff.

They quickly make attempts in moving the ball towards their scoring-end of the field, but face push-back from UTokyo’s defense, unable to make it much further past the midfield line, and you bring your camera up to take a snap of Gojo, who you see is still standing off to the right side of the field. But when you position it and peer through the viewfinder, that space he once stood at was empty. You pull your camera down, and blink at the sight, and then the crowd is picking up in volume once more.

Gojo sprints down the flank, cutting past every defender, and moves towards YCU’s attacking goal, which was a shocking place to be for a center forward, but you could feel his desire and determination to steal this back-and-forth ball, and succeeds when YCU makes an open pass, thinking they were in the clear, only to have Gojo sneak in at the last moment and get the ball at his feet. 

The play moves by in a flash, a blur that you or anyone else in the stadium could hardly keep up with it, movements so fast you were shocked a human being was capable of even running that far in such a short amount of time, and in an almost embarrassingly easy play, Gojo makes a fool out of YCU’s defenders as he slips the ball through the legs of his last obstacle before he struck it with sharp precision, sending it soaring to the corner of the goal, past the outstretched arms of the goalie, and into the net. 

2-1, UTokyo.

It was electrifying, the feeling that strikes through the stadium, one that reaches you in your own blood. You’re shocked, standing here, after witnessing Gojo score two goals within the matter of minutes, against one of the top three teams in the league. It’s a shock that reaches everyone, including Coach Yaga who’s standing about ten feet down the line from you, his arms crossed, and you see his eyes for the first time as he takes his sunglasses off to get a better look at what he’s seeing.

You trail his sight, dragging your gaze across the field until it lands at Gojo, who is barely acknowledging the encouraging pats and shakes and goodhearted shoves that his teammates were giving him, because he was focused. It might sound crazy to say, but you swear his eyes looked like a fiercer shade of blue, like they were lit up, and you’re insanely glad you’re not one of YCU’s defensive players at the moment because you feel fearful of him even just standing on the sidelines. 

Your gaze trails back to Coach Yaga, who slowly puts his sunglasses back on but his brows are narrowed tightly as he crosses his arms over his chest tightly.

The “athletic zone”... You’ve heard of it before. A state of pure focus, of peak performance, where an athlete experiences optimal concentration and a sense of effortless control over their actions. In which they perform at their highest level, where time slows down, any and all distractions fade away, and they’re completely immersed in their sport at hand. At the task at hand.

Coach Yaga seems to pick up on the fact that Gojo was on the edge of tapping into that state. 

YCU makes a substitution, and you watch in anticipation as they begin the kickoff. 

There’s fire in their veins with desperation to even out the score once more, rushing the ball down the off-field line, one of their center forwards mimicking Gojo’s signature attack pattern, and Yuta struggles to keep up with the expert dribbling of a fourth-year player with more experience on him, so much so to where he completely leaves the ball unguarded and there’s an open shot, but Geto places pressure at the last moment, in a fierce battle for the ball, before YCU’s center forward loses the ball over the goal line. 

Choso picks the ball up, tapping on it harshly a few times as he surveys his eyes down the field, and all offensive players begin to shuffle towards their attacking goal in anticipation for the goal kick. He signals his hand down and then holds up two fingers in the air before placing the ball down on the six-yard box. He tightens the strap of one of his gloves, eyes squinting, and you follow his gaze down to a part of the field where you note UTokyo’s best aerial players are located and being guarded by YCU’s defense. And with complete trust in his team, that’s exactly where he kicks the ball. 

Geto makes first contact with the ball, his chest colliding with two other YCU players as his head comes out on top and he headbutts the ball closer towards the inner field, and Gojo immediately gains access to it with a bounce of his knee. The crowd holds their breath, fear that they’ll lose the ball to a steal in the split second it spends floating in the air, but Gojo urges it forward with a bounce off of his chest and then rushes it straight down towards the goal post. 

You wonder what sight he sees right now. Where you’re dead center, at no angle, lunging towards the sight of an open goal with a sole goalie standing in the center, anticipating to block your shot, and three defenders on your tail. There’s no room for error, no time to think, only instincts that you cultivate in the last leading milliseconds. They say that, in sports, athletes channel one hundred hours of practice in just a brief second on the field. A split second success that was years in the making. You can’t even imagine possessing that level of perfection in your body, or possessing that level of confidence that you can follow through with it in a moment as dire as this.

It was unreal, the way Gojo fades away from all the defenders, and faces no fear when confronted with the sight of the goalie in front of him while drawing his foot back to kick the ball. You lift your camera up at the last second, no time to think about aperture or ISO, just like he had no time to second-doubt a single twitch in his muscles, and his foot makes contact with the ball so harshly that you can hear the explosive sound even among the delirious cheers from the crowd, before he hook, line, and sinks it straight past the goalie’s head, rushing by like a scarcely deflected bullet, and into the net behind him. 

3-1, UTokyo.

The whole stadium is momentarily speechless, all players and referees and recruiters and reporters and coaches and employees alike, before the most deafening cheers you’ve ever heard in your life scatter across the stands.

There’s a moment of brief reprieve, where the players can catch their breath while YCU makes yet another substitution, as if they’re just trial-and-erroring it at this point, and the cheers in the stadiums remain idle as you can’t tear your gaze away from Gojo.

It’s one of those moments where you realize that someone who you thought was so familiar to you was actually someone you hardly knew at all. You knew he was a talented soccer player, everyone on campus knows it, potentially one of the best to ever grace the league, and the amount of times you passively watched his plays on a lecture hall projector screen as your professor enthusiastically broke them down during class, even before you met him, was good enough for you to realize that he was insane, a one-in-a-million, a talent you cannot replicate, one you have by divinity. One you were born with. 

And yet, somehow, getting to know him these past couple of months, he just felt so human. For someone so seemingly beyond you, he felt so…close? In those moments where it was just the two of you, it was hard to imagine that he was capable of such greatness, and that so many people were rooting for him with wholehearted tears in their eyes and cheers from their hearts, because most of the time, when he was with you, he was just a dorky idiot. You find that your heart is beating fast in your chest, that feeling of being unsure of what to do with what you’ve been wanting resurfacing powerfully. 

“This is insane,” you hear Minato say from beside you and you jump a little from your thoughts being interrupted.

You twiddle with your camera straps. “I know…almost done with the first half and we’re up 3-1…I thought YCU are number one in offense for the league?”

“Oh, yeah, I mean, yes, that is insane too. But what’s even more insane is that three of the goals so far have been scored by one player.” He tips his chin towards the right sight of the field and you trail his line of sight. “By Gojo Satoru.”

Your brow furrows as you watch Gojo, his hands on his hips and his mouth slightly open as he indulges in a few shallow breaths to gain energy while YCU prepares for kickoff. Three goals, by just one player. Your eyes widen when you realize that is insane, especially for a D1 semi-final qualifying match.

“You know what the divisional record is for most goals scored by a single player during a championship match, y/n?” Minato asks you as he lifts his camera up to take a picture of the area Gojo was standing in. 

You shake your head and wait for his response.

He drops his camera down and glances at the photo on his screen. “Four. During Keio Uni vs. Osaka Uni, near the beginning of the tournament back in 1997 by Osaka’s center forward number 24, Yuji Nakazawa. Meaning no one’s managed to beat that record since the new millenia, for a couple decades. Although a few players came close.”

You blink at him, and Minato is jerking his chin over in the direction of Gojo again.

“I think he’s trying to beat the record.”

You can only widen your eyes at Minato in realization, and then the chirp of the referee’s whistle draws everyone’s attention back to the field. 

The sports announcers go wild on the speakers, the crowd raving all the same, standing to their feet like the team just won the championship match.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!! We are watching HISTORY in the making!! Gojo Satoru, UTokyo’s very own 3-year consecutive MVP, has scored his 34th goal of the season, highest of any player in this year’s season so far, and is now on the road to beat the league’s long-standing record for most goals scored by a single player in a championship match since 1997!!” And the crowd roars even louder as you stare out at the field in awe.

YCU starts the kickoff following the prompt short chirp of the referee’s whistle, and with two minutes remaining on the clock for the first half, make desperate attempts to book it down the field towards their attacking goal, one of their midfielders making a clumsy attempt to strike the ball to the net in the final minutes of the half, and Choso easily catches it in his arms, right before the buzzer of the timer sounds, and the match moves into halftime. 

All of UTokyo’s players immediately flock towards Gojo in sportful glee, finally having a chance to surround him and harass him with harsh pats on his back and ruffles of his hair for his play in the first half. Choso even puts him in a headlock because they all don’t know what else to do with their excitement and adrenaline rushing through their bodies. Their win for today was basically confirmed with the way he was playing. 

You catch a glimpse of him through the crowd of people, and he has a boyish grin on his face, reveling in the embarrassing amount of attention from his teammates, that focused look from before dissolving into his normal self again. But you can see through him, as well enough as you’ve learned to at least, and you can tell he’s not satisfied. He’s thinking it’s not enough. There’s still more to be done, and it’s not time to celebrate yet. 

His eyes scan down the sideline until they find you. 

Your heart jumps a second in your chest. He stands up straighter, despite his teammates still clinging to him, and there’s a twinkle in his eyes when your eyes meet. 

Cheerleaders take their place out onto the field, performing their numbers with loud music blaring, and the recruiters seated at their white tables get up to roam across the sidelines in discussion with referees and with Coach Yaga and with whatever players they can sink their greedy teeth into, as well as sneak at refreshments while they’re at it. You can see off to the right that Hana has reunited with Minato and she’s showing him some of the shots she took over at the opponent's side. 

UTokyo’s players start to make their way to the benches to grab for towels and drinks of water and to sprawl across in rest, and you hear loud familiar laughter approaching as you watch the players sprawl across the benches, so you avert your eyes towards the source of the sound. 

You see Gojo approaching the benches, two of his teammates slung with their arms around him in some type of adrenaline-drunken glee as they talk dramatically and theatrically which Gojo entertains with his own drunk-off-of-adrenaline glee. And you raise an eyebrow at his demeanor when he makes eye contact with you.

“There’s my freaky little photographer,” he says, and he’s standing up straight and—wait, is he puffing his chest out as he makes his way towards you? Oh for fucks sake.

Gojo has always been confident around you, for as long as you can remember, but in the fair few moments he’s been cocky, he’s been a menace. And you can only assume the testosterone-induced high of being on the verge of breaking a league record in front of the entire school then subsequently getting homiesexually praised by his teammates for the better part of the past five minutes, not to mention with the crowd and the reporters feeding his ego with a spoon across the speakers, he’s been transformed into the final boss of cocky.

His teammates surround you too, their hands on their hips as they assess you and Gojo when he meanders right up to you, arms held out to hug you, a sleazy sight you’ve seen probably six times this week, and you feel a rush of warmth in your cheeks as you place a hand on his chest to keep him away.

“You’re sweaty and gross, please stay away from me,” you reprimand him, “this is an expensive lens that is not humidity-proof.” 

“Hey, you’re the girl that Kentaro socked in the face with a ball the other day at practice, right?” one of his teammates asks, leaning in towards you to take a closer look at your face.

“Oh yeahhh, ‘cause Satoru wasn’t paying attention,” another one of his teammates chimes in teasingly, hardly heard over the loud remix playing in the background as the cheerleaders continue to perform on the field. 

You shrink a little from where you stand. Gojo’s got an irritated look on his face and he’s shrugging his teammate’s elbow off of his shoulder.

“I really hope you’re getting my good angles,” his teammate to the left comments before winking at you, and you purse your lips together. 

The one on the right leans in too, looking at your cheek with an assessing look in his eye. “At least it didn’t leave a scar on your cute face—”

Gojo shoves the both of them back and away from you by elbowing them in the chest, and they make deep eugh noises before stepping away and rubbing at their sternums with pouts on their faces.

“Get the fuck away from her,” he grumbles, “she’s mine.”

Your cheeks flush slightly with warmth at the attention, and you watch as his teammates scurry away to adhere to some social hierarchy Gojo seems to possess over them.

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Yours?”

“Yes. Eventually. Whatever, did you see me out there?” he turns his torso towards the field and points behind himself with his thumb, “when I—”

“Oh god, you know what’s soooooooooo super sexy to me?” you interrupt him. “When guys are humble.”

“Oh c’monnn,” he curls his arm around your waist and pulls you to him, to where you stumble a little on grass and he holds you when you fall into him with more clumsiness than grace. “Tell me you aren’t at least impressed by me.”

You pout, because you are, and you’d really like to give him some reassurance and validation, but for some reason his cocky attitude is setting you off. “Satoru,” you sigh, wiggling a little in his hug, but he holds you tighter, “I’m working right now. Cut it out.”

He lets go of you at that, sober enough from the adrenaline to realize you’re being serious, but he steps into your space so only you can hear him. “What? Are you embarrassed?”

“Of what?” Your face twists with confusion.

“Of me. Are you embarrassed of me?” he asks.

“No. Why would I be embarrassed of you?” you ask with sharpness.

“I don’t know, just, sometimes I feel like you’re always annoyed by me,” he says with a sigh. “It’s like, you’re really sweet sometimes, and then kinda rude out of nowhere, and it’s sort of messing with my head.”

You pout. “You were messing with my head for weeks.”

“And I’m sorry about that,” he quickly interjects, like he already knew you were brewing up that counterargument, “but you don’t have to act like you’re all disinterested and indifferent just to get back at me for it.” He places his hands on his hips and wipes his temple on the round part of his shoulder when he feels a drop of sweat trickle down from his hairline. “You don’t have to act embarrassed around me either.”

“I’m not embarrassed,” you deny, and your cheeks feel hot, and for some reason you feel angry. “In fact, I’m the one that should be asking you that question. Because I still very clearly remember that time you said I was just someone you know in front of your friends.”

He groans and tilts his head back with frustration. “Can you just let that go? Things have changed between us since then. Move on.” 

“You kissed me and then pretended I was just a stranger to you in front of your friends,” you grit as you cross your arms. “That’s the level of sincerity that I know from you, Satoru.”

“Oh, okay, so there’s nothing else I’ve done that shows you that I’m serious about you?” he asks rhetorically with incredulity, throwing his hands up in the air in disbelief.

No. That’s not true, not true at all. But he’s pissed you off now and so all logic was to the wind. “Doesn’t matter. If you’re not embarassed of me, and if you’re really serious about me this time, then fucking prove it.” You’re speaking out of spite, and you fear you’ve just set him off too.

“Fine,” he says, and he grabs the microphone straight out from a passing reporter’s hand, replacing it with a gatorade bottle. The reporter stares at the bottle he’s now holding with confusion. “I will.”

“W-Wait—” you squeak out, feeling the hair at the back of your neck bristle in anticipation and a shiver gets sent down your spine. The cheerleaders are making their way off the field at the end of their routine, and you can hear the thumps across the loud boisterous speakers when Gojo whacks his palm to the microphone to make sure the thing was on before he jogs to the center of the field.

The crowd is already cheering, ecstatic to see the afternoon's star player and pride & joy of their school, and Gojo takes a moment to soak in all the glory in comical appreciation with bowing towards all 360 degree angles of the stadium.

“Uhhh,” you hear Choso from beside you, who’s strapping his thick goalie gloves tightly to his wrists, “Why the fuck does Satoru have a microphone while standing in the middle of the field.”

“It can’t be for any publicly decent reason,” Geto muses.

All you can do is watch.

“Hi, uh,” Gojo starts, static blaring slightly across the speakers and the crowd winces with him, “sorry. I’m Satoru, Gojo Satoru, you might know me from—uh, the game you’ve been watching?”

Cheers all around, because as if a single person wouldn’t know who he is. The stands were rowdy and most definitely drunk off of sidestep beers the stadium has been serving all afternoon long. 

Gojo is about to continue speaking, when he catches sight of the table of recruiters in the corner of his eye and he turns to face them out of respect. “Oh, yeah, uh, number 10,” he tugs his jersey up at the shoulder to stretch out the fabric, the 1 and the 0 flattened in view, “division player ID 233-997. Coach Yaga keeps my business cards in his purse if you want one.”

“SAAAAATTOOORRUUUU!!!!!” you hear Coach Yaga yell from somewhere in the distance.

“Anywho,” Gojo continues, and the music dims slightly, so he glances at the stop clock on the screen, which shows him he’s got roughly five minutes left to pull off whatever idiocracy he had in mind before the second half of the game starts. “Just here to say that there’s this girl I really like.”

The crowd gets louder, almost deafening, and sonically mostly feminine in (delusional) hope he’s gonna name call one of them.

Gojo’s voice is crisp and clear through the speakers as he clarifies. “She’s standing over there,” he says as he nonchalantly points to your exact latitude and longitudinal direction, “with the big camera slung around her neck that looks like it could pull her down to the center of the earth. Yeah. She’s super cute and I really like talking to her.”

“Uh-oh,” Geto murmurs from beside you, and you glance at him to try to get a read on the situation but you can’t.

Gojo starts to pace across the center of the field now, like he’s working the crowd. “But get this—she thinks I’m not fuckin’ serious about her!!!”

The crowd groans with him in unison. Yep, most certainly drunk. Or high off of glee. Either way, he’s playing them like a violin.

“Huh?” Gojo’s voice sounds distant now, away from the mic, and you can see on the large pixelated screen that he’s being interrupted by someone that looks like one of the videographers, “oh, what’s that? This is being broadcasted? Uh-huh. Oh. I’m not allowed to cuss? Oh fuck, okay. Er— shit, okay. Wait—shoot, okay.”

Choso’s smirk is heard from beside you, and you catch Geto and Nanami shaking their heads in your periphery.

“LIKE I SAID,” Gojo continues into the mic, “the girl I like thinks I’m just messing around, so. Uh. To show her that I’m serious about her, I’m gonna…” He looks up at the sky to ponder, and you can hear people shouting all sorts of suggestions of nonsense from the crowd. And instead of saying proclaim my undying affection for her through a romantic soliloquy straight from my heart in the presence of the entire school, he says—“I’m gonna strip. Yes. Down to my tighty whities, Imma strip.”

H–

Huh?!?!?

You don’t even have time to be horrified or scared, you’re just bewildered beyond belief that that’s what he came up with.

What the fuck kind of reassurance did you ask for. And what the fuck kind of reassurance were you about to get?

The crowd goes wild, it’s no surprise to say everyone and their mothers wants to see him naked, even the straight dudes would dig it for the gym inspo. And he points straight to you, sleazy look on his face and you’re going to ignore the fact that he just winked at you too as he crosses his arms to hold the hem of his jersey and pulls it up over his head in the most raunchy and slutty way a man can take his shirt off.

The music manager is quick with the bit, and is most definitely a fellow Gen Z college student, because Justin Timberlake’s SexyBack (ft. Timbaland) starts playing across the speakers and the crowd goes ballistic.

“Ayo why’s Satoru Magic Mike’ing the field right now?” one of his other teammates calls out through a mouthful of protein bar, “What the fuck did I miss?”

The cameraman does God’s work in a hella zoom-in of Gojo’s sweat glistened abs, then pans up the naked expanse of the perfect taut skin across his chest, and you can’t help but stare even among all your horror. It’s like when a male bird embarrasses the fuck outta himself to attract a female bird sitting on a perch, except instead of within the context of a NatGeo documentary, this was your real life. Everyone wants him, but he’s making a fool out of himself for you. 

He pretends to stretch his arms up into the air, a cover-up to flex his biceps, and then he kicks his cleats off, and the socks come off too. Entirely unnecessary, as showing one's ankles is simply too slutty, but alas he’s a whore. And when his thumbs dip into the waistband of his shorts, and there’s anticipating screeching from the crowd, he finally gets chased by security. 

Except he’s an intercollegiate D1 athlete, why the fuck wouldn’t he be able to outrun a bunch of dudes in black?

The camerawork on him is phenomenal as he runs across the sidelines of the field, eliciting a wave down the bleachers. So good in fact that you’re pretty sure the camera man could shoot for the Olympic track and field, with the way the stadium’s got a clear sight of Gojo mouthing the lyrics Them other fuckers don’t know how to act from the song still blaring with satirical rage on his face as he makes a fool of the men chasing him around the perimeter of the field.

And then he does it, drops his shorts, discards them with a kick, and he’s down to his tighty whities as promised. Cameraman has got to be displaying some previously undiscovered level of talent as he zeroes in on a shot of said tighty whities, with Gojo’s—forgive me, I need to be crass—huge bulge prominent in Big Dick Energy fashion except his tighty whities have little red hearts in rows across the fabric so do with that duality what you will.

He’s outrun security with a steady grin on his face as he eats up the drunken crowd’s cheers and riots and roars and you feel like you’re the only sane person in this stadium, or maybe you’re just not used to the fanatics of a college sports crowd. You peep the men in black trailed all the way on the left side of the field where they abandoned their pursuit of Gojo.

He taps imaginary pockets at his thighs, very muscular thighs you take indulgence in noticing, as if he expected to find something there, and he looks around when he doesn’t. He shrugs and grabs the microphone of the next passing sports commentator he spots, and then he makes his way back to you.

His breathing is a little shallow, and he inhales deep to catch his breath. “Baby.” The crowd SCREAMS at the way he purrs the word into the mic. “Will you do me the honor,” he’s huffing and puffing, heard across blaring speakers, “of being my lawfully wedded girlfriend?” And then he holds the mic to your lips.

“W-Wha—” you stutter, and there’s chanting across the crowd with words that barely make sense until you finally realize they’ve started to yell say yes! say yes! say yes! “Oh my gosh, okay, yes, fine, now please, for the love of god, put some freaking clothes on!”

The crowd goes wild with cheerful glees, and Gojo shoots fists up in the air in celebration as he runs all the way towards the center of the field with high knees, and you’re gawking at the sight, before he falls backward onto the grass and makes delirious snow angels on the ground. You see Coach Yaga’s vein popping in his neck from pure agitation as he storms off towards the center of the field to knock some sense into Gojo, but you know that Coach Yaga can’t kick him out, because they still have a game to win. The perks of being the most valued player in the league is getting to act like an absolutely insane idiot because you know they still need you in the end to bring it home.

You glance to the right, seeing his teammates nodding slowly then getting back to wrapping athletic tape around ankles and stretching out shoulders, with immediate acceptance of his actions like it wasn’t even out of character for him to do. And you realize again that you don’t know Gojo as well as you think you do.

And then the halftime timer is up.

You see Gojo approach the benches in a quick jog, squeezing some water into his mouth with his green gatorade squirt bottle, and when your eyes flit up to the screens on all four entrances, you see that the cameramen are still all focused on him accompanied by the continued buzz of conversation among the crowd following his public spectacle. But he seems to already be past any semblance of embarrassment as he takes the attention with ease, before he glances up to make eye contact with you and then lightly jogs right up to you.

“Did that prove to you that I’m not embarrassed of you?” he asks you, cocking a brow with a smug look on his face as he gets all up in your personal space. 

“I don’t know, but I’m certainly thoroughly and expeditiously embarrassed of you now,” you say, cheeks feeling flush when he leans forward so he can make eye contact with you at eye level. “I’ll have to move to a different country.”

His grin is relaxed. “Yeah well you asked for it.”

“Maybe. But I underestimated what a lunatic you are.”

“You’re my girlfriend now, you’ve gotta get used to it.”

Your heart skips a beat in your chest. “Satoru–”

“Tomorrow,” he cuts you off, “Hinode pier. I’ll pick you up at six. It’s a date, so wear something cute. And preferably easy to take off.” And then he’s attentive to the chirp of the referee’s whistle in the air before jogging backwards towards the feel and eventually turns on his heel towards the field while you’re left with warm cheeks and a heart that felt like it was moving at a mile a minute.

The timer for the second half refreshes on the screen while you loosely hold your camera in your shaking hands. It occurs to you that you haven’t taken a single photo of him before the start of the kickoff, and so you bring the piece of consolidated metal up to your eyes, peering through the viewfinder and focusing it on the center of the field. And there he was. Your muse.

Gojo lets out a breath, which you can see even from here that it’s shaky and staggered with resistance, and he lifts his jersey up to swipe at the sweat trickling down his face as he eyes the ball underneath YCU’s player’s foot just prior to the start of the second half. There it was—that look again of pure focus. 

3-1, forty-five minutes on the clock. And the referee chirps the whistle to start the second half.

It’s immediately evident that YCU has returned to the field following halftime with renewed energy, pressing high down the flank relentlessly past UTokyo’s defense, so fast it was hard for anybody to even keep a steady eye on the ball with the fluidity of their passes. The persistence pays off in the fake double-pass that slips past Geto’s feet, a moment of hesitation in the broken flow of UTokyo’s defense, and one of YCU’s strikers has the perfect line of shot towards the goal before digging his foot under the ball and sending it flying towards the corner of the goal post, scoring themselves a goal within just the first five minutes of play.

3-2.

The pressure mounts at the next kickoff, and with about seven minutes of solid play, with back-and-forth passes, multiple attempts at both goal posts to no avail on either side, it was clear that exhaustion was bustling in the veins of all the players.

One of YCU’s offensive players seems to capitalize on this, jumping on a defensive lapse of a pass Nanami attempted to make towards Yuta, and the ball is swiftly stolen then raced back towards the goal post. Choso prepared himself at the line, light on his feet paired with a solid stance, but in a millisecond of a moment, YCU’s offense unexpectedly passes the ball to a player racing up the midfield, and the player chips the ball neatly into the exposed corner of the goal despite Choso’s attempt to lunge for it in mid air.

Equalized, 3-3 game, momentary shock across the players’ faces, and the crowd bustles with something that sounds less like glee and more life fear. YCU was prepared to live up to and hold onto their title as the league’s number one offense, and as Minato explained to you during your time working in this job, an offensive team isn’t good at scoring goals, but rather exceptional at breaking down the other team’s defense.

Your eyes zero in on Geto, who stands in the center of the field for kickoff, and he’s huffing and puffing. He's the lead of defense for the team, and you can only imagine the level of pressure he feels right now. He glances around to his players, over to Nanami who seemed to share the same level of exhaustion, and then he glances towards Gojo who stood in front of him off to the right. Except you notice that Gojo looks relaxed, albeit still exhausted, but there’s a composed expression on his face even in the moment of heightened stakes. With locked eyes, Geto nods at Gojo and raises two fingers up into the air to signal a play, of which Gojo seems to respond to by closing more distance between him and the goal post prior to the kickoff, positioning himself almost directly in front of it, to which YCU’s defense immediately begin to guard him in a tight radius. 

The kickoff begins, with Geto making a few passbacks with Nanami as they close distance towards the field before passing it off to UTokyo’s string of offense and then receding back to their defending goal. UTokyo continues to close distance, raising stakes for YCU as their defense begins to falter under pressure, and the ball gets passed to Gojo, who only keeps it in possession for less than three seconds before he passes it back to Yuuji, a risky decision to make in the second half of a semifinal match, but the first-year swiftly unleashes a powerful shot that rockets past YCU’s goalkeeper, up towards the corner, except–

It bounces off the metal of the goal post, shot off with projectile speed back towards the center of the field, but with razor-sharp reflexes, Gojo headbutts the ball in air, twists his torso and strikes the ball with his foot past a dumbfounded goalie who can’t even move an inch to guard the ball that he already knew was going to sink right into the goal, and that’s exactly what it does. 

The stadium erupts with the momentum.

4-3, UTokyo. 

It was a sweet moment, one you manage to capture on camera of Gojo running up to Yuuji and ruffling his hair in reassurance, despite the missed goal. Your heart feels warm in your chest, feeling your own sense of melancholy that this was one of the last times they’ll ever get to play together on a team. 

Your eyes widen when you glance at the scoreboard, realizing that he’s tied. Gojo is tied for the most goals scored during a championship match. There were less than three minutes left on the clock. UTokyo either preserves their lead, or they risk moving into overtime, which, judging by the exhaustion on the UTokyo players’ faces in the wake of YCU’s relentless offense this entire game, moving into overtime would be a hefty, hefty risk. 

YCU’s center forward takes his place in the center of the field, fire evident in his eyes as he glances across the field. YCU are light on their feet, channeling everything in their bodies into these last moments of the game as they prepare to start the kickoff. You glance across UTokyo’s players, and although they look spent, there was a resolute look to all of them. It wasn’t the time to give up or feel at ease even near the end of this grueling battle. Now was the time to play. 

The referee chirped his whistle, and the kickoff began.

YCU immediately presses hard, as all their other plays have been all game, in their desperation to score. You can already see UTokyo’s midfielders move sluggishly in comparison to YCU’s offense, a drag to their feet as YCU pushes past the first layer of defense towards their attacking goal. Geto takes an aggressive approach, making moves to steal the ball while Nanami and Yuta guarded both flanks, and there was a relentless pass-off happening that ate up more than a minute of the remaining time.

Nanami succeeds in stealing the ball, but immediately loses it under his feet by a YCU midfielder, who makes a broad pass down the sidelines to YCU’s star forward who then powerfully kicks the ball towards the unguarded area of their goal, a dangerous shot that was clear towards the crossbar and Choso makes a leap for it, high into the air, his glove brushing against the ball, the entire crowd holding their breath in anticipation–

And the ball lands in the net. 

4-4, tied game. With one minute and seventeen seconds left on the clock. 

There was no time wasted in getting back to center field. No time spent dwelling in the horrific roars of the crowd as they watch with anxiety and fear. No time spent to process or consider or signal any plays. Not even a single second used to catch breath. When there is this much at stake, an athlete thrives on momentum. 

To your surprise, Gojo isn’t the one that takes place at the center of the field to start the kickoff. Yuta stands there instead, and you notice his eyes are erratic as he surveys all corners of the field. 

The referee chirps his whistle. 

Yuta immediately passes it off to the side to UTokyo’s midfielder, who curls it towards their attacking goal with a swift pass to Ino, who closes distance towards the goal, but one of YCU’s defender slips in, undoing any progress they had made in their offense by stealing the ball and sending it back towards mid-field. Forty-three seconds. The crowd’s roars heightened as YCU continued to push forward, thirty yards now from scoring, and UTokyo’s defense was desperate to stop them but their momentum was cracking in the wake of their exhaustion. 

It was a moment you don’t think you could ever fully or truly recall, one that you wish you had focused all your energy and attention to so that you could commit it to memory for the rest of your life. The image of Gojo pushing all the way to ten yards before their defending goal, a place where no center forward should really be at in a game like this, but it was exactly what their defense needed. It was exactly what the team needed. It was exactly what the school needed. For the ball to be in his possession.

With twenty-two seconds left on the clock, he steals the ball from right under YCU’s offensive feet, and then charges towards the opposite side of the field. The crowd rises to their feet, thunderous roaring that overtook any and all senses, as Gojo weaves through forwards, center forwards, midfielders, and defenders, covering the entire span of the field in lightning time. Fifty yards, forty yards, thirty yards, twenty hards, ten yards–

In a moment you couldn’t believe, he digs his foot underneath the ball, and sends it flying out towards the goal. There was not even a margin of an inch in which it slipped past the goalie’s hands, past his head, and swiftly flew right into the net.

With three-two-one seconds, the match was over. 

5-4, UTokyo’s win.

The final whistle blew, and for a moment, there was silence. As if the world paused to catch its breath. Then, all at once, the crowd erupted with glee that shook the entire stadium at its core. Flags waving, scarves held high, toasts of beer held up to the sky, it was deafening, and it almost makes you want to cry. Thousands of voices shouting in unison, celebrating the hard-fought victory of their school’s team. A type of pride that was fostered, and well-deserved, and long-lived.

You quickly glance towards the field again, and see Gojo standing right at the same spot where he had kicked the last and final goal, staring towards the net. You can’t see the expression on his face, but it surprises you how still he is. Like a statue, staring at the goal with the ball tucked into its corner. The very epitome of what it means to succeed in this sport was right in front of him, and it seemed like he wanted to soak the visual in for as long as he could.

His trance is abruptly interrupted when his teammates swarm in, rushing over like a wave of pure adrenaline. They slap him on the back, ruffle his hair, shout his name, the sounds of gleeful disbelief mixed with exhausted sighs of relief swarming into the air. And Gojo finally melts away from the tension of the match and into the celebration as he weakly returns the embraces of his teammates while he catches his breath. 

“IT’S OFFICIAL!! IT’S OFFICIAL!! UTOKYO’S VERY OWN GOJO SATORU HAS OBLITERATED OSAKA UNIVERSITY’S RECORD FOR MOST GOALS SCORED BY A SINGLE PLAYER IN A CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH!!” 

The speakers are blaring the voices of the sports announcers, along with ambient music to match the intensity of the match that everyone had just witnessed. 

You should probably be doing your job. You know, take a picture of the huddle of players on the field as they bask in the glory of a close victory, but instead your feet start moving on their own. Like a magnet drawn to him, you make your way towards Gojo, only a slight hesitation in your step as you stop about ten feet away, suddenly unsure. But when he makes eye contact with you, all that fear melts away.

He hastily pats the backs of some of his teammates, acknowledging their praise at the center of the huddle before tightly squeezing past them to make his way over to you. Your heart is beating fast in your chest, feeling an almost overwhelming sense of pride in your school’s team, but more importantly, in him. What was the acceptable thing to do? Run to him, into his arms, and hug him while he twirls you around? Tackle him to the grassy ground? Kiss him like your life depended on it? You have no clue what the acceptable or sane or normal thing to do is. But he’s made his decision for you when he walks right up to you, his hands holding your waist as he pulls you towards him. He smells earthy, of grass and salt and sweat and of all the hard work he poured into today, the wear and tear of the game evident in the wear and tear of his jersey. He only manages to huff out an exhale at the sight of you, like some relief washing over him just by looking into your eyes. Forget the fact that the crowd was all watching and that all of the screens you could see past his head were focused on the two of you, because all you could hear or see or think was him.

“I believe you owe me a kiss,” he says, huffing as he catches his breath but that doesn’t stop the smile that makes its way onto his face.

You nod your head, giving him your own version of a sweet smile as your arms slide up past his shoulders, crossing behind his neck, and he leans down to kiss you.

You hear a swell from the crowd, some teasing comments off in the distance from some of his teammates, you’re pretty sure you hear Coach Yaga yelling at him to get back to the benches, but it all melts away with the feeling of him smiling against your lips as he kisses you at the center of this stadium.

It was a moment so pure, so sweet, so picture perfect, and for once, you’re not the one behind the camera taking the photo. You’re the one that’s in it.

.

.

.

.

.

[end of kickoff ch12]

a/n. aaa thanks a lot for reading!! pls the fucking public stripping scene was so stupid i apologize on behalf of kickoff gojo for his behavior 😂😂 i’ll put him in his cage dw this chapter had some of what i consider to be the most challenging aspects of writing for me (internal conflict, grand public gesture, sports jargon) and so writing it felt like an uphill battle the ENTIRE time i wrote it and edited it. i considered scrapping it sooo many times cuz i just wasn't happy w it...but whatever i can't expect to be 100% happy w every chapter i put out there haha. i think kickoff has become a lil sacred for me since i've been working on it for a while now but likeee...sometimes u just gotta say fuck it we ball (tbh kickoff gojo probably says that to himself before a match) anywho, i am veryy thoroughly excited for what i've got planned for the chapters to follow, especially moving into the last angsty arc before the end of the series!! so i look forward to picking up momentum w this series again :0 honestly chapters 10 through 12 were the most difficult things i've written so far for a lot of reasons, but i have a feeling things will go more smoothly for me creatively going forward since what i've got planned falls well within my writing comfort range oh also there seems to be a little confusion about the number of chapters left, as i know i had originally said 12, but i anticipate that there will be about 18 chapters of kickoff total!! so still around six chapters left before the end :)) much lovee thanks for reading!!

OH WAIT ONE LAST NOTE I'M SORRY i didn’t really have a way of organically incorporating this into the story n i’m not sure if i’ll get a chance to in the upcoming chapters, so i just wanted to share this part of ch7 (gojo’s pov chapter) that is relevant to this chapter:

During the thrilling semifinal match between Keio Uni, Gojo’s father’s team, and Yokohama Uni during the end of his senior year, spectators witnessed a game that most college soccer enthusiasts would deem was a once-in-a-lifetime watch. Both teams engaged in relentless offense, and Gojo’s father was on his way to shatter the record of the most goals scored in a single championship match within the history of the league, but when he received a call from his wife during a timeout with the most life-altering news he could have ever heard, he abandoned everything on the field that day to go home and be with her. Grainy footage from the televised broadcast still exists online today—the moment he sprinted across the field, confused players glancing in his direction, amidst the uproar of the crowd. She called to let him know she was pregnant. 

the record that gojo broke in this chapter is the same record that his father almost broke before he got the call that he was going to be a dad :0 

➸ you're all caught up!

additional notes. please do not pressure me for updates or ask when i will next update (read rules); taglist is currently closed (consider subscribing to the story on my ao3 for email updates if you'd like! :0)

taglist:

@megumisdivinedogs @witchbybirth @avatarl0v3r @mwtsxri @asherheed

@wynney @delulux3 @higurumapet @zombriesworld @xenop0p

@phoenix-eclipses @who-can-touch-my-boob @mo0nforme @reagan707 @lost-resonance

@foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @beabadobeee @thexmistress

@tsukikourito @pickuptruck01 @gabriiiiiiii @4y3sh4 @tiredflame132

@cliosunshine @btszn @izayas-rings @semra4 @ethereally-lyann

@drthymby @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010

@joemama-2 @horisdope @banenemilk @nanasukii28 @spindyl

@ri-sa20 @thexmistress @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @sashisuslover

@chwesuh-imnida @megumisthirdog @imjustaweirdnerd @angelicscribe

[taglist is closed]

[pomefioredove]

Hello! I would like to request overblot boys + cater & tweels finding out that the reader who is usually shy and calm all the time is actually a streamer/vtuber. They’re very chaotic when they stream like whenever they get jumpscare, reader would scream really loud and when they find something funny, they would let out the most contagious laugh that would also make their viewers laugh at the most unfunniest things.

Thats all! Please take your time and take care╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ vtuber reader

type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, cater, leona, azul, jade, floyd, jamil, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu

Cater first came across your content on Magicam. you're popular enough to have people reposting clips of your streams, and, of course, he recognized the cadence of your voice. after a little investigation, he's sure it's you... though he hasn't brought it up quite yet. he's keeping that info for when he needs it

he did, however, tell Riddle, who...

"I don't understand,"

...yeah. he doesn't get your jokes or your avatar or anything really, but he still follows and watches to support you... not that he'd ever admit it

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

how did Leona find out? your guess is as good as mine. maybe you let something slip, maybe Cater said something, maybe he just had a feeling

either way, he really enjoys the look on your face when he holds up his phone to show you one of your own streams

"This you?"

...then, he never brings it up again

whether he still watches is for him to know, and you to guess

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Jade always had a suspicion that you were more than meets the eye, but he never had any reason to pry until Floyd let himself into your room while you were in the middle of a stream

"OOH, pretty, can I try?"

of course, you have to fend him off from your keyboard, and he settles for watching, instead

the next time you stream, he's there again, with Jade, too

the time after that, Azul is also watching

you have no idea why the three of them find this side of you so captivating, but they're quiet, so you let them stay

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

I feel like Kalim is more online than you'd think. he probably saw a clip of you in a try not to laugh compilation and brought it to Jamil

"Hey, look, their name kinda sounds like our friend! What a funny coincidence!"

Jamil doesn't say anything then, but later, he does look into it. it doesn't take a genius to put the pieces together, after all

he doesn't say anything to you. it's hardly enough for blackmail, and he sees no other reason to bring it up

sometimes, though, when he's alone and working, he'll put on a stream just to hear your voice

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Rook knows, because of course Rook knows, and of course he tells Vil when he feels like it

and of course Vil looks you up out of curiosity, and of course he's surprised to see that you have quite a following. nothing compared to his, but he can't blame you for that. he wonders why you never talk about this, but assuming you have a good reason, he doesn't ask you to, either

...he could never admit that he finds your silly jokes and bits funny, anyway

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Idia is the pièce de résistance in all of this

he knew before Kalim, he knew before Cater, he even knew before Rook

he'd been going through different streams and stumbled across yours because he thought your avatar was cute, and...

of course, he recognized you. the way you pause when you're talking, your laugh, even your choice of jokes, is all so... you. he knew you were hiding something behind that shyness

he's been a subscriber and donator since he recognized you, and the only reason he's never brought it up IRL is because he'd pass out if he had to talk to you

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

poor Malleus

he's the only one who didn't know until you told him personally (and, even then, he was confused)

it's not like Silver or Sebek are regularly watching vtuber streams, and if Lilia were (he probably is), he wouldn't have said anything. so, it's up to you

it takes a bit to explain everything, and you'll have to show him your avatar to satisfy his curiosity, but he understands everything rather easily

though, he notes that your avatar is not nearly as cute as you are in real life

[felinefractious]

Thoughts on the GCCF making the Transylvanian an official breed? :o

I’m very excited, it’s nice to see the budding breed earn some mainstream recognition - especially from a registry I actually respect. Looking at you TICA. Spits on you.

The GCCF is the Governing Council of the Cat Fancy and is the primary registry of the United Kingdom, they’re not perfect and I disagree with them on things (iirc they’re… lenient on the issue of outdoor cats) but on the subject of breed health they put many others to shame.

Sticking to the subject of breed health specifically here is a list of unrecognized breeds and the reason why they aren’t recognized. Some are eligible but aren’t presently recognized for whatever reason, others aren’t eligible for arbitrary reasons like not being distinct enough from [x] breed, etc…

But I want to draw your attention to the red breeds.

Some of the red-listed breeds I may not agree with and some I may agree with but may be generally controversial but them being one of the only mainstream registeries to stand against multi-mutation breeds, dwarf breeds and the incredibly popular and widely known Scottish Fold has earned them a great place of fondness in my heart.

The karpati mutation was only discovered in 2014, there’s always the chance we can discover some weird associated health problem down the line… but fortunately coat color related issues don’t seem to be as present as cats as in other domestic species and nothing has been reported anecdotally in relation to karpati, and more importantly they’ve based their assessment of the breeds health on research done on four generations of Transylvations done by the amazing Dr. Leslie Lyons to vet the health of the breed prior to acceptance.

The GCCF is also big on responsible outcrossing and keeping inbreeding to a minimum so I expect they’ll be good about promoting genetic diversity in the breed and starting the Transylvanian’s mainstream debut off on the right foot.

They’re a gorgeous breed with a very moderate body type, true to their street cat origin. You can see my tag for them here!

[3hks]

How to Write the "Black Cat" Character

A trope that's becoming increasingly popular right now is the "Black Cat and Golden Retriever" dynamic! And with good reason: their opposition in character makes such a cute and fun relationship! So today, let's explore the "Black Cat" character and how to write them!

OVERVIEW

The Black Cat is known to be introverted and can seem harsh at times; they tend to avoid people and might not talk a lot. They also dislike showing vulnerability or sensitivity, which results in their genuine emotions getting concealed more often than not. In general, they aren't great at dealing with other people.

DIALOGUE

In general, the "Black Cat" is not known for making a lot of friends and getting along with everyone. One of the main reasons for this is because of their communication, which we'll explore!

**SUBTEXT**

Like I said, this character archetype is not honest about their true feelings towards people. When talking, they have a tendency to avoid or lie about the topics they may find sensitive or don't want to share. Thus, their dialogue isn't all that reliable.

So instead, subtext is the key to portraying their emotions.

They could lie and say, "I'm not scared", but their tenseness and darting eyes betray their words, offering the truth without speaking. Those actions are the subtext.

This creates a contrast between their words and their actions, forming a more dimensional person! I'm not saying that they're dishonest all the time, but they will absolutely make something up if they have to, which makes communication with them just that much harder.

**SPEECH PATTERNS**

Everyone has their distinct speech patterns, and this trope is no different! The "Black Cat" is concise and terse with their speech. They're the type to respond with short, curt answers, which makes holding a conversation difficult because they don't feel the need to butter up their words. As a result, they can be quite blunt.

Obviously, that can pose a problem.

Additionally, more often than not, they're unaware of their ruthless honesty and/or struggle to understand why it could hurt someone.

On the other hand, they may say stuff they do not mean (much like word vomit), which can also be hurtful.

Tone-wise, they tend to have a blanker manner of speaking. Not necessarily in an emotionless way, but they speak more to get their point across than to express their emotions. So naturally, their tone is more consistently calm (or even cold) and involves less emotion.

Lastly, there's vocabulary. These characters are unlikely to use slang and generally don't stutter. They might have a richer vocabulary but also may not show it off when talking.

PERSONALITY

Let's break down some of the standard characteristics of this trope!

**FLAWS**

Blunt

Stubborn (Unwilling to accept help)

Closed off

Lack of communication skills

Struggles with empathy

Sometimes (unnecessarily) mean

Cold/Apathetic

**VIRTUES**

Intelligent

Analytical

Unbiased (Unless it the "Golden Retriever" is involved)

Highly skilled (Or a wide range)

Independent

Responsible

**GENERALIZED TROPES**

Tsundere

Apathetic

Mean/Cold

This is just a quick overview of their characters as a whole; the tsundere generally is softer compared to the other two. Although they act disinterested, they care deep down. On the other hand, an apathetic is one that strongly lacks empathy and emotions. They typically don't care about anything and may or may not be mean--it's up to you! And finally, there's the mean/cold type. Obviously, they have more hostile tendencies but sometimes it's a defense system in which they have no control over.

If you can't tell, this archetype is introverted with a more neutral temperament (it depends on how you write them, but the point is that they aren't all sparkles and butterflies). Most of their struggle consists of connecting with other people and building on that relationship. Normally, this is because they may feel that others weigh them down--especially if they themselves are gifted--or that they don't need anyone else because they can sustain themselves just fine. However, when they are close with someone, they're protective, if not overprotective of them.

**CHARACTER**

Another important aspect to keep in mind is that because the "Black Cat" won't show as much emotion and is considerably more serious, this character can easily seem too robotic. So how do we avoid this? We give them some more personal traits!

For starters, slowly establish any fears and/or weaknesses that your character has. The fact that they have their own vulnerabilities demonstrates that they are still human while adding some depth! I also suggest including backstory and dreams to build onto the dimension.

Following that, when they do open up, I recommend not skimping out when it comes to describing the importance of the moment! It doesn't have to be every time, but it allows you to demonstrate the value of their honest expression! Yes, it's mainly just for fun and fluff, but it doesn't hurt to be a bit dramatic about their elusive smile or laugh!

To finish up, the point of view the story takes place in is also crucial. If you're telling it from the "Black Cat's" POV, you have more access to their thoughts, which is pivotal when developing the character. However, they may be less self-aware about how their demeanor affects others.

On the flip side, if you're telling the story through the eyes of the "Golden Retriever", you get to establish how the other looks from someone else's angle and how they handle such a character.

Personally, I prefer to switch the perspective from time to time to get the full picture!

RELATIONSHIP

Here's the fun part! How does the "Black Cat" and "Golden Retriever" trope really function?

Most of the BC's character development actually happens around their partner or loved ones. This is because alone, they have no reason to change and they're perfectly fine with how they're functioning. However, with the GR, they must put in more effort into communication, opening up, asking for help, etc.

That slowly builds character development!

As expected, in their relationship, the BC is the most reliable and organized of the two, balancing out the GR's more reckless nature. Part of their enjoyability is the sheer opposition in their persona, but they should also break out-of-character for each other every once in a while.

What do I mean?

Well, like I mentioned before, although the BC is stoic and distanced, they should be willing to express their vulnerabilities and might even act uncharacteristically shy with their partner. Conversely, the happy and loveable GR may have serious moments when concerning their loved ones. That's how you can tell they do care about each other and that's what makes this dynamic so cute!

CONCLUSION

To summarize, the "Black Cat" is terrible at dealing with emotions and communication. As a result, their actions speak louder than words, so subtext is vital when their writing dialogue! Most of their development happens around their partner--not everything will change, but that's the beauty of this character!

Guys, I'm SO, SO sorry for uploading less recently; school is a mess right now so I'm trying my best to make it up! Homework is getting a bit overwhelming, and my tennis season is starting so I'm still trying to figure things out. With that being said, fall break is only a week away and I understand very well now that I need to prepare beforehand 😅 I genuinely apologize, and I'll working hard to clean my schedule up!

On a separate note, I appreciate all the asks I've been getting, it makes me so happy, so if you need something, please reach out! Thank you so much for making it all the way to the end, expect a post on writing "Golden Retrievers" soon! ;)

Happy writing~

3hks <3

[laundrypause]

AU where loscar are in high school, Oscar's quite popular and Logan is not as popular but just as much as well-liked. One thing about Logan is he is the most oblivious human to ever exist in the entirety of mankind. People flirting with him? Nah, they're just being nice. Getting chocolates for Valentine's? They must feel bad that he doesn't have one. Notes with hearts attached to phone numbers mysteriously finding their way into his locker? Must be the people he's been partnered with for their midterms. At first, Logan's secret admirers thought he was trying to reject them without outwardly saying no to their advances. And if that really was the case, they'd back off cause yk common decency. But then they find out he actually doesn't realise that these advances are essentially what they are. Advances. So they do what seemed like a perfectly reasonable solution and asked one of Logan's best friends to help them out because maybe their flirtations were too general. Too normal. They needed an insider who knew what Logan liked other than fishing and cars. Things that made his heart flutter, his cheeks blush. They wanted him to know that they were interested in him, not just being friendly. So who else to ask none other than Oscar to help them out.

Oscar wouldn't say he was Logan's bestest best closest friend who knew everything about him down to a T. That position was occupied. But Oscar thinks he knows Logan enough to try and be a Cupid-associate per say and help these poor souls who decided to fall for Oblivious Man™. He doesn't know what the tightening of his chest or the flood of fire trickling through his body means but it's probably the odd gloop of greens the cafeteria calls lunch he ate. Not for any other reason at all.

For about 2 weeks straight, Oscar's the designated Loge(Love) Guru, attempting to inconspicuously ask Logan questions and relaying pieces of said information to the admirers that fit the list of questions they'd emailed him. Yes, emailed him like social media didn't exist and this was the early 2000s or something. The list of questions include:

What's Logan's favourite color?

Is he a steak kinda guy?

His ideal type in 3 words?

Coach or Gucci?

And other questions Oscar deemed.... he'd rather not ask (let's leave it at that).

Logan's a little confused about the sudden influx of questions hurled at him by Oscar but deigns it harmless enough. If it meant he'd get to spend more time with Oscar, he'd take it. Who's there to judge him? Exactly. No one.

It's been weeks ever since the admirers have asked Oscar for help and still...no dice. It seemed like after they'd requested Oscar's expertise, Logan's become even more detached to their pursuits, which should definitely be impossible but it's Logan. He always somehow manages to defy the odds. But maybe this is a sign of some sort, that Logan will never manage to see through the fog and accept that it's possible for people to experience attraction towards him.

When they say this to Oscar, however, he's weirdly defensive. Saying how could they just give up that easily, if they're actually serious about Logan why are they not doing anything more, that actually they were asking the wrong questions. That did they not realize that Logan wasn't that much of a materialist? Their actions need to have meaning, their gifts need to convey a message. They can't just throw a designer watch at him expecting him to know their intentions. Hell, he wouldn't even accept the damn gift because oh why would you spend so much on me? I can't accept this.

Nor can they can't just give him flowers all willy-nilly, just grabbing them off a shelf because it's the most expensive. Purple so obviously clashes with him and didn't they remember when Oscar said Logan liked yellow? They should've gotten him a yellow bouquet with greens and blues complimenting it, yellow because he was as bright as the sun, always exuding warmth and blues and greens because they were the colors of his eyes and wrapped with delicate pink crêpe paper because that's the color of his cheeks whenever he flushes and-

Oh my God, they were dumbasses. Idiots, fools, blockheads. Of course Oscar's 'advice' didn't work. It didn't work because he liked him. He liked Logan. Shit, it was all starting to make sense now, why none of the help Oscar lent truly...helped. Because he didn't want to help them. Because he liked Logan and didn't want them to- God how were they so dumb? It's so obvious now, so clear. The way Oscar's eyes always managed to soften when Logan was in his radar, the immediate hardening of his body, muscles taut whenever someone says something less than friendly to the American, ready to jump into a fight like an aggravated cat or even the way he always seemed to be the first person in line to lend Logan a shoulder when he's tired out of his mind, staving off sleep just to do one more calc question.

Always the one forcing him to take care of himself whenever Logan forgets to. God, they were complaining about Logan being the oblivious one but how about them? Being completely blind to the obvious lovesick simp that was still going on about how the direction of the quirk of Logan's mouth could clearly tell you about the mood he's in.

Oscar, the most discreetly obvious about his feelings. So discreet, he managed to go unnoticed by the admirers until now. So discreet, he himself doesn't realize the extent of what he's feeling for Logan isn't just platonic.

[somewhere-in-the-rain]

SPOILERS FOR FOURTH WING AND IRON FLAME

One of the most (if not the most) popular theories about Violet’s second signet is that she is a truth-sayer. I see this everywhere, and so many people are convinced it’s correct.

Although I can absolutely see why people think this—there is so much evidence—I just don’t like the idea of Violet being a truth-sayer for a couple of reasons.

The main reason a lot of people believe in this theory is that Xaden repeatedly says stuff like “I can’t lie to you” to Violet in the books. First of all, he does this at least twice in Fourth Wing, when Violet’s second signet has not yet manifested, which makes this either crap foreshadowing or irrelevant to the second signet.

Related to the whole “I can’t like to you” thing, I really hate the idea that the only reason for this is because Xaden physically can’t lie to her, rather than because he’s in love with her and in a relationship with her and so shouldn’t lie to her in the first place. Personally, I would much rather interpret this as “I am ridiculously in love with you and the idea of deceiving you is so abhorrent I’m incapable of doing it”.

This is my biggest counter argument to this point so if you don’t read the rest of the post, please read this: Xaden being incapable of lying to Violet is just not how the truth-sayer signet works. We have already seen an example of one truth-sayer in the books: Nora, Varrish’s lackey. The way her signet works is that she can detect lies, not prevent them from being told, so Xaden being unable to lie to her is not a side effect of her signet.

This leads me neatly on to my next point: Nora helped Varrish do despicable things to Violet, helped torture information out of her and keep her prisoner under Basgiath. I just detest the idea that Violet would have the same signet as her, and I’m pretty sure Violet would too.

Overall, I don’t like this theory for so many reasons, more than that I just don’t believe in it. Personally, I think there are so many other more convincing theories out there for different second signets.

[jakedustry]

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 - 𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈

popular!riki x fem!reader

in which after many of your protests, your friends manage to convince you to go to your school prom, reminding you you don't need a date to have fun, and you even believe them for a second – until you are left alone at your table, with no one to talk to. Fortunately, your close friend shows up right in time to show you prom can be funny after all.

wc 2.8k

warnings none (me thinks) except for kissing

↪ izzy adds... I wrote this a year ago on my wattpad account but thought it would be nice to bring some riki fluff on my tumblr too :)) This is only vaguely proofread!

“I don’t want to go,” you whined, grabbing a hair tie from your table before turning to face the group of girls sprawled on your bed again. “I am serious. First of all, I don’t have anyone to go with, and second of all, I don’t have a dress either,” you explained your reasons when you notice the looks on your friends’ faces. 

“But you have to go! Prom is so much fun!” One of the girls exclaimed, ready to argue with you. “It might have been fun if someone asked me to be their prom date,” you mumble, sighing. “Or if you guys were still in school. I don’t want to go alone!” You complained. 

Honestly, you didn’t care much about not being asked out for prom. What bothered you more was that none of your friends would be there with you. You were the youngest in your friend group, and with all the girls being a grade above you, it meant there was no one you could talk to. 

“People are blind. I don’t get why no one asked you out.” 

“It’s whatever. I am not going anyway,” you repeated, sitting on your bed between the two eldest. “Everything got far worse after you left. The girls in my class keep laughing at anyone who breathes. I don’t need them making fun of me because I don’t have a date.” 

“You don’t need a date! You can go alone and dance with whoever you want! I swear prom is super fun!” Your friend kept trying to convince you. “And I already finished your dress,” your best friend joined the conversation, making all of you look at her. “What? Really?” Your eyes widened. 

She had decided to study fashion design after finishing high school, and she had been promising you she would make a dress for you since the first semester started, but you knew she was busy, so you never paid much attention to it, thinking she wouldn’t have time for it. 

“Why haven’t you shown us earlier?!” 

Your best friend unlocked her phone, scrolling through her gallery to find a picture. “I thought I told you about it before. And I wanted to bring it tomorrow to see if it needs fixing,” she shrugged. “Here it is,” she turned her phone towards you so you could see first, showing it to the rest of the group afterward. 

It was a long midnight blue v-neck piece with a fitted bodice and a sweeping skirt, and you absolutely loved it. Even though you always preferred pants and shorts over a dress or skirt, you could see how much work she had put into making it for you. Seeing the dress made you feel a sudden wave of excitement. You wanted to wear it as soon as possible. 

“You are so good!” The oldest gasped. “It’s nothing,” your best friend chuckled, awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck. You knew she was proud of her work, too. “It really does look gorgeous, though,” you assured her, still in awe. 

“Well, now you just have to go.” You sighed, “Alright, I’ll go, but you guys have to promise we’ll get an ice cream and sleep over at mine after it.” The girls grinned, agreeing immediately. 

♡⸝⸝ 

You looked into the mirror again, fixing your hair with a smile. Even though you didn’t feel super excited to go out alone, you must admit, you felt pretty tonight. The dress your best friend designed fit you perfectly, and once you put your hair up and let her do your makeup, you found yourself looking forward to the dance more. 

“You look stunning,” your best friend assured you, her smile so genuine she might also make you feel like the prettiest girl in the world. “Should we go?” She asked, offering you her arm. You giggled, wrapping your hand around her arm and leaving your room with her. 

“No boy will be able to resist you tonight.” You couldn’t hide your smile as you heard your best friend, your confidence slowly building up. You nodded, following her to her car. 

Your confidence, however, dropped down again as you ended up alone at your table, staying the only one not dancing. 

You ended up sitting at a table in the far corner with a few of your classmates, looking around the place as soon as you sat down. You must say, they did a great job with the decoration. “I am going to get something to drink. Do you guys want anything?” One of the girls asked, putting her handbag on her chair and looking around the table. One of her friends stood up, too, saying she would go with her when their other friends asked for drinks.

You just watched them, not saying anything. They weren’t your friends. Honestly, you barely knew them, so you didn't want to bother them with getting you a drink. It felt awkward sitting there with them, but there was nothing you could do. It wasn't like it would feel any less uncomfortable at the other tables. 

Half an hour later, the dance floor was already occupied, with almost no space for any more pairs. You saw a few of your classmates here and there dancing or sitting at their tables and talking to their friends, but you didn't dare to walk up to any of them. 

So you ended up sitting alone at your table, watching everyone else enjoy themself while you had nothing to do. You knew you shouldn't expect much when you didn't have a date, but you got your hopes up when you talked to your best friend, and now it made you regret coming here after all. 

You shifted in your place, staring at the almost empty glass of coke you got earlier. Playing with your straw, your thoughts drifted away to your friends again. To your actual friends, not just your classmates. You remembered how your best friend would laugh at the stupidest things whenever she was around you and how the eldest in your friend group would always talk about her boyfriend, to the point it annoyed all of you. 

You sighed, closing your eyes for a quick second so tears wouldn't fall down your cheeks. You just wanted to be with them.

“How come you are here alone?” You opened your eyes upon hearing the familiar voice, quickly blinking to make all the possible tears disappear before they could even show up. “I thought I was too late,” he mumbled so quietly you almost didn’t hear him. Almost. 

“It’s weird that none of the guys here asked you for a dance yet. They are missing out,” he grinned, sitting on a chair beside you. “How long did it take you to learn those lines, Riki? Do you go around asking every girl?” You teased him but couldn’t hide a smile. 

You watched him, taking a proper look at what he was wearing. All the boys had a specific dress code: formal pants and a button-down. A vest or a suit jacket were optional, so most of them weren’t wearing them. But he was. He had a black vest on his white button-down, and you could swear he looked better than ever before. It was somehow attractive seeing a man wear a vest even though he didn't have to.

You knew he was attractive. You would be a fool to deny it when all the girls in your grade and the grade under you had a crush on him at one point. But still, it felt as if your eyes had opened only now. 

“Now seriously. Why did you reject everyone? I thought you wanted to dance tonight,” he questioned, looking around the place. You shrugged, looking the same way he was, “No one asked me yet. I didn’t get the chance to reject anyone.” 

You had met Nishimura Riki last year for the first time. You were running through the school hallway late in the afternoon, being one of the last students still in school. Lessons ended more than an hour ago and you had lost track of time while studying in the school library. It was a pure fate that the two of you met, really. You weren’t planning on stopping. If anything, you almost sped up to get out of school as soon as possible to catch your bus, but you ended up slowing down instead when you heard your favorite song coming from one of the classrooms. 

You glanced inside, wondering who was stupid enough like you to be still hanging out in school at this hour. That was when you saw him dancing in the middle of an empty classroom to your favorite song. Back then, he obviously had no idea it was your favorite song, and you had no idea it was one of his, too. 

He noticed you standing at the door and froze, a sudden wave of embarrassment brushing over him. He turned the music off immediately, watching you apologize for interrupting. You felt as embarrassed as he did but didn’t move right away. You lingered in the silence, keeping eye contact with him until you felt a blush creeping up your cheeks. You apologized again, running off before he could say anything. It was a chaotic first meeting, but you still managed to get stuck in his head. 

You didn’t have a proper conversation with him that day or any of the days prior, but you started greeting each other in the hallways since then, exchanging small smiles or glances from across the room. 

It went like so for weeks, with neither of you walking up to each other to actually say something. You didn’t know his name, and you assumed he didn’t know yours either, but you still found yourself looking forward to seeing him between your classes. 

And not so long after, when your best friend wanted to introduce you to her boyfriend’s friends, you finally got to hear his name. You stuck together with Riki most of the afternoon, only exchanging a few words with his other friends. It was Riki who your eyes landed on, unable to look away as you found yourself getting lost in your conversation. 

You considered him your close friend since. 

Riki looked back at you, confused if you were telling the truth or joking. “No one asked you for a dance?” You shook your head at his question, looking down at your glass again. “I swear everyone is blind,” he shook his head in disappointment. “You look amazing today,” he assured you. “You look amazing all the time, actually,” he mumbled, making your cheeks turn pink. “Thank you,” you muttered shyly. 

He hesitated for a second, encouraging himself before he stood up. “Do you want to dance?” Your name rolled on his tongue so easily, as if he had said it a million times before. You smiled, looking up at him again. His hand was reached towards you, and he averted eye contact. For the first time in the year you knew him, you saw him without his usual confidence, and it might have been making you more nervous than him. Everything about him tonight made you nervous. The way he stood, talked, and dressed. It all made you weak in the knees. 

You carefully took his hand, already worried your hand was sweating. He looked you in the eyes again, holding your hand properly as he took you from the table. The current song was ending, but he still had the next one and hopefully a few songs after that, too. 

Riki awkwardly waited for the song to end before looking at you again as he heard the last line. “We are going to kill the next song,” he proclaimed, making you giggle. 

“How about something slower for our pairs this time?” His eyes widened, terrified, as he looked at the DJ. Everyone cheered for him, but Riki couldn’t. Not when he wasn’t sure what you would think about dancing with him to a slow song. 

He glanced your way again, his eyes scanning your face and trying to see if you were still up for a dance. You looked him in the eyes, trying to figure out the same thing. Eventually, you decided to take the first step and put your hands on his shoulders. He stepped forward, making it easier for you to reach him before he placed his hands on your waist, a sheepish smile on his lips as he looked at you with nothing but love. 

It wasn’t a secret to many – actually, he was pretty sure everyone except for you knew – that he had a crush on you for as long as he could remember. Since he saw you in the hallway, with your hair tucked behind your ear, he couldn’t stop thinking about you, and it has been getting worse and worse ever since. And seeing you so close now, trying to keep eye contact with him even though your cheeks were getting hotter the more you looked at him, only made him love you more. 

“We can’t really kill this dance,” you mumbled with a smile, trying to ease the atmosphere so it wouldn't get awkward. He chuckled, nodding before he leaned down to you, stopping once his lips reached your ear. “But we can be the best-looking pair.” His words sent shivers down your spine, making your cheeks turn redder than ever before. You stepped closer again, laying your head on his chest so you wouldn't need to look him in the eyes. 

You nodded, slightly squeezing his shoulders. “Thank you,” you mumbled. “For dancing with me tonight.” You looked up for a second, assuring yourself he heard you. You had underestimated his visuals, you realized. Now that you were standing so close to him, your bodies touching, seeing him bite his bottom lip at what you said in the purple lighting above the dance floor has made you go crazy. 

You felt girls looking at you, trying to murder you with their stares, but you didn’t mind. You couldn’t even think about them when you had a handsome boy right in front of you. Especially when you knew his eyes were on you only. 

Your eyes widened in question when you heard your name leave his lips, questioning what he needed. He hesitated for a moment before moving his right hand from your waist to your face, lifting your chin with his thumb and index finger. You were too pretty for him to be able to think straight, no matter how much he tried. “Please don’t kick me for this,” he whispered, leaning down again, this time connecting his lips with yours. 

You moved your hand to the back of his neck when you felt his lips on your, pulling him closer to yourself. You were both aware of people staring your way, whispering about god knows what, but you couldn’t care less. This was your moment. 

Riki grabbed your hand again, exchanging one look with you before he took you from the dance floor, rushing to the main hall outside where you all left your jackets before. You didn’t question anything and followed him, keeping your eyes on your intertwined hands. “My things are still in there,” you reminded him, having no idea where he was heading. He didn't answer anything, though, not looking back for even a split second. 

As he stopped in the middle of the hallway, finally looking at you again, you realized he was looking for a quieter place without so many people around. Honestly, you didn’t care where you were. He could take you anywhere, and you would go with him. Because all you could think about at the moment were his lips. 

“I’d kiss you again if your lips weren’t so high up,” you mumbled, creating a grin on his face. He pulled you closer again, leaning down so you could do as you wished. “I thought we were just friends,” he whispered against your lips, making you shiver once again. The look in his eyes, combined with his deep voice would be the death of you soon. You were sure of it. 

“You kissed me first,” you reminded him, breathing on his lips so he could get a taste of his own medicine. “So maybe we aren’t really just friends, pretty boy.” 

“Definitely,” he agreed, his hands cupping your cheeks as he kissed you again, this time with more passion, making sure you could feel every last bit of his love on your lips.

✧˖°. izzy's tags @beomiracles @adel222 @hwanghyunjinismybae ✧˖°. want to get notified? join taglist here!

[sturniolobsessed]

YOU’RE HIS AND NOT MINE - M.STURNIOLO (PT1)

Warnings : Crying, arguing, bullying, reverse comfort, shouting, use of y/n

Summary : In which, Matt is head over heals in love with his best friend… but she has a boyfriend already

Authors Note : You lot are being fed right now because this is part one of a four part series. Part 1 might be a little bit boring but please bare with me, it will get good soon, I promise. There will be a angst, smut, fluff, all the emotions. Good luck and I hope you enjoy a rollercoaster of emotions. <3

Pink is reader

Blue is Matt

Green is reader’s boyfriend

Orange is teacher

Purple is Nick

Italics is flash forward/back

________________________________________

Your best friend Matt is crying in your arms and he won’t tell you why. When he finally does and you find out that it’s because of your boyfriend, your body fills with sadness and rage.

You and Matt have been best friends since you were kids. You’ve gone from playing on the parks to talking shit about people and laughing at mildly sexual jokes. You’ve changed a lot but you’ve changed together.

Although you and Matt are the closest of friends, you are complete opposites. You are literally the definition of “opposites attract”. You are popular and extroverted and Matt is nerdy and quiet.

It is not uncommon that Matt will get picked on for being nerdy and you will always stand up for him, but when it comes to your boyfriend being the one to ridicule Matt, the seas start to get a bit rocky in your relationship.

Your boyfriend, Jack, has always been jealous of yours and Matt’s friendship because he doesn’t like the idea of another man getting your attention besides him. It’s fucking annoying.

“Matt, come on, I can’t be arsed to do fucking algebra.”

“Come on, kid, we have a test in a week and you don’t even know how to find x in a simple equation.”

“Stop saying big words!”

Clearly, your protests are useless because Matt just laughs and pushes the paper and pen towards you, encouraging you to study.

After a long time of studying, Matt explaining things to you and a few minor breakdowns, you get there and you finally understand the question.

“Alright, now you can do that, let’s start adding numbers-“

“Hey babe.”

You hear your boyfriend’s voice behind you and you smile. He starts to kiss your neck and you feel a little uncomfortable, not wanting to do this in front of Matt.

“Hey, my love…”

You subtly try and push your boyfriend away when you notice Matt look a little uncomfortable. You start to feel a little suspicious because Matt went all quiet and shy the second your boyfriend walked in.

“You alright, Matt?”

“Uhh… yeah I’m alright.”

Matt shoots you a weak smile but you are nowhere near convinced. You let it go for now but you stay wary.

Your boyfriend takes a seat next to you, putting a possessive hand on your thigh as you and Matt continue to study together. You still don’t understand algebra.

After you and Matt are done with your homework and studying, you start packing up your things and getting ready to leave Matt’s house. You look over at Matt and he still looks sad.

You go over to him and give him a goodbye hug, holding him for a little bit longer, hoping that you can make whatever is making him sad a little bit better.

“Bye Matt, see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, bye y/n! See you tomorrow.”

“Okay whatever..”

You look at your boyfriend, a little bit confused at his passive aggressive behaviour towards Matt.

Timeskip

Later that night, you and your boyfriend are lay in bed and you are lay on his chest. For some reason, you can’t get Matt’s sad expression out of your head.

“Babe…?”

“Yes, love.”

“Do you have any idea why Matt was so sad earlier? He was visibly upset and I don’t know why…”

“Why do you care? It’s not your problem?”

“Yea but it is because he’s my best friend and I love him.”

You saying that you love Matt must have clearly set something off in your boyfriend because he immediately stands up, telling you that he’s going to the toilet and slamming the bathroom door behind him.

You flinch when the door slams but you just roll your eyes and pick up your phone to text Matt, knowing that your boyfriend can be like this sometimes.

Matt 💗

Hi Matt

Hi :)

Are you alright? You really didn’t seem yourself earlier

No, yeah. I’m fine, I promise

Are you sure?

Yeah ofc, I’m just tired

Okay well let me know if anything does happen, alright?

I will, thank you

You’re welcome, Matt

Your boyfriend walks back into the room and he still looks a bit mad but you just brush it off. You open your arms for him, waiting for him to come and lie with you.

“I’m sorry for saying that, babe.”

“It’s alright… sorry for snapping at you.”

“It’s fine..”

Timeskip

You walk into school, not excited for today. You have the shittiest lessons but, luckily, the teachers aren’t that bad. You walk into maths first and you walk over to your desk.

You take out all of your equipment, getting ready to start the lesson. The teacher starts taking attendance and everyone says “here” but Matt.

“Matt? Is Matt not here?”

“He should be. He always texts me before school if he’s not going to be here and he would never skip a lesson.”

“Okay… we’ll send someone to go check on him because it does say that he is in school, he just isn’t in my lesson.”

You nod, knowing that this is very suspicious. You saw Matt this morning, driving to school with his triplet brothers, Nick and Chris. You immediately take out your phone to text him.

Matt 💗

Matt, where are you?

Matt?

You send the message and 5 minutes later, you’re still on delivered. You start to worry like mad. You spend the entire maths lesson just worrying about Matt.

When the lesson is over, you don’t care about going to history because you need to find Matt. You start searching the school.

You are pacing around the school, having looked everywhere and not finding him. You start doing a second lap of the school when you hear sobs coming from an empty classroom.

Your head starts spinning. Is it Matt? If so, why is he crying? You walk over to the door and gently push it open. You see Matt crying, sat at one of the desks.

When you see him, you instantly shut the door behind you and make your way over to him. You don’t even say anything, you just pull him into your arms.

“Matt… what’s wrong?”

“H-he said that y-you s-shouldn’t be friends with a l-loser like me…”

“Who’s ‘he’, sweetheart?”

“J-Jack…”

“As in, my boyfriend, Jack?”

Matt nods his head against your chest, continuing to cry into it. You are absolutely fuming right now, knowing that your boyfriend had made Matt sad but you don’t show it because you don’t want to scare Matt.

“Don’t listen to Jack, okay? He’s just jealous that you’re getting my attention and not him.”

“I-okay… t-thanks y/n.”

“It’s okay… I’ll have a word with him tonight. A strong word.”

Matt just nods again, not wanting to speak because it just comes out as a stuttering, shaky mess. You understand and just pull him closer to you, playing with his hair.

After a few minutes, Matt starts to feel better but he just wants to stay in your arms, enjoying the comfort that it brings him. You simply comply and hold him.

He pulls away after another minute or two and he looks up at you. His cheeks are stained red from crying and his nose is running a little. You grab a tissue and wipe his nose and eyes.

“What are you gonna say to him..?”

“I don’t know yet, sweetheart, but I’ll figure it out.”

“Okay… I hope this doesn’t make him more mad..”

“Well… if he says anything else to you, if we don’t break up tonight, I’m breaking up with him then!”

Matt simply buries his head back into your chest and nods, now starting to overthink about whether this is just gonna make Jack more angry at him.

You hold him for another little while and then the bell goes. You guys can finally go home and you can finally yell at Jack. You have a LOT to say.

You walk Matt out to the gate and you give him a hug before he leaves. He wishes you a quiet ‘good luck’ before going to his car and taking himself home. That’s when you see Jack.

You’re trying to contain your anger at least until you get home but it’s getting difficult. You get in the car with him, not saying a word. You want him to know that you’re pissed off.

To your annoyance, Jack doesn’t say anything in the car but when you guys get back to his house, you snap. He tries to kiss your neck and you push him off you.

“How fucking dare you, Jack?!”

“Woah woah woah… what’s got your panties in a twist?”

“Why the fuck have you been saying all that shit to Matt about him not deserving me as a friend and calling him a loser?!”

You watch as Jack’s face drops and he instantly knows why you’re pissed. He tries his best to explain himself but, in your opinion, it’s all utter bullshit.

“Listen, babe.. I only said that because I was jealous. He’s getting more of your time than me.”

“Doesn’t take Einstein to figure that one out, dipshit! You scoff and roll your eyes like a bitchy toddler whenever I speak to Matt.”

“Yeah… because I’m your boyfriend… you should spend your time on me.”

“Oh so now you’re tryna control me? Fuck you Jack.”

Your eyes are cold and he can tell that whatever he says isn’t gonna change your mind. He’s trying to reason with you but it’s proving difficult.

“Babe… I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I won’t even talk to him again.”

“You said that the last time I brought this up. Last time it was just because of your stupid fucking meltdowns whenever I spend time with him and now you’re making fun of him and calling him names?”

“I know, babe… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t call me babe.”

You continue to argue for a while until you’ve had enough. You want to go back to yours but the whole reason that you were supposed to stay at Jack’s is because your parents aren’t home so you ring Matt.

“Matt? Can I come over to yours? I can’t deal with this dickhead anymore.”

“Yeah, of course.”

You can hear his smile through the phone, he’s clearly happy to hear from you. You smile a little too and grab your bags, heading out of the house. You put the phone down on Matt, telling him you’ll be there soon.

“But babe-“

“I said, don’t call me babe. Talk to me again when you’re less of a twat.”

You get in your car, leaving Jack at the door, still trying to get your attention. You slam your car door and drive off, not paying any attention to Jack.

You start speeding off to Matt’s house, not sure whether you want you want to cry or scream. Holding back all of your emotions, you reach Matt’s house. You get out the car, collect your bags and go knock on his front door.

When you knock, Nick, Matt’s triplet brother, answers instead of Matt. You, Nick and Chris are all good friends but you and Matt have always had a closer relationship. You never really knew why but you two have always been closer, since you were kids.

“Hey girl, you okay?”

“I guess… me and Jack got in an argument. I don’t know if I wanna cry or scream..”

“Shit… I’m sorry. Matt’s in his room.”

“Thanks…”

You smile at Nick and he closes the door behind you. Taking your bags with you, you head over to Matt’s room. You knock and then just let yourself in. You find him lay on his bed, just on his phone.

“Hey…”

“Hey. You didn’t sound too happy on the phone. Can I assume that it’s Jack?”

“Yeah… I spoke to him about the thing with you but he was just making up excuses. I think I got my point across though.”

Matt decides that it’s a better idea to just open his arms for a hug instead of making you talk about it much more. When you see Matt extend his arms for you, you smile and put down your bags, walking over to the bed.

You collapse down next to him, letting him hug you and you lightly hug him back. You start to feel tears welling up in your eyes but you push them down as much as you can, not wanting to pay too much attention to the whole scenario.

Matt looks down at you and he can see your teary eyes. His eyes soften and he just pulls you a little closer, rubbing your back.

“What did he say? Why did you sound so pissed off on the phone?”

“He was basically just telling me that he’s jealous that you’re getting more of my time than him. First of all, I don’t think that’s necessarily true and secondly, you’re my best friend.”

“He annoys me so much sometimes… was he yelling at you?”

“A bit.. but I was definitely yelling back.”

Matt laughs and rests his head against yours. You stay in Matt’s arms for a while, helping you feel better, and then after a while, you just throw a movie on that you both like. Matt got some snacks and you’re just hanging out together now.

After a while of just sitting together, Matt speaks up. He sounds a little frustrated for some reason but you don’t ask why.

“Your boyfriend really pisses me off?”

“Why? Is it because he yelled at me?”

“Yeah well.. that too but… it’s because you’re his and not mine.”

________________________________________

Taglist : @astrolynnworld @moncherriis @mattybsbitch @strnzzvsp @strniohoeee @sturnsem @sturnsdarling @sturnslesbo @sturnioloho @sturniolo-slvt @sturniolojpg @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @loud-sturniolos @iheartmattsbeard @sturnioloslife @stuniolvs @mattgirl4eva @33sturniolo @sturnsxx @thetriplets3 @slashzgirl @hoeforchrizz @shadowthesim @letstrip13

[macrolit]

NYT: Why Do So Many People Wear All Black?

Article

A reader struggles to see the allure of wearing black clothing. Our fashion critic offers an explanation for its popularity.

By Vanessa Friedman

Sept. 16, 2024

Leer en español

I don’t understand the perennial appeal of black clothing, which seems ubiquitous. Is it a trend? Is it a statement? Will it ever go away? — Ilse, Washington, D.C.

In August, a middle school in El Paso, Texas, sent out a missive to families announcing that students were no longer allowed to wear black from top to bottom. The thinking was that black was more associated with “depression and mental health issues and/or criminality than with happy and healthy kids ready to learn.”

The decision, not surprisingly, produced such an outcry that it was quickly put on hold to allow for community discussion. And while it does seem somewhat extreme and not entirely realistic, reflecting a very limited understanding of black clothing’s role in the public psyche, it also demonstrates the very real power of wearing all black. More than any other color, it is replete with associations and symbolism, which may mean one thing to a wearer and another to an observer — and which changes depending on the context.

After all, black is the color of witches. Of ninjas. Of rock stars. Of the beats and the Hong Kong protesters. Of Darth Vader, Johnny Cash, Batman, Morticia Addams and Lydia Deetz. It is associated with mystery, mourning, eccentricity and elegance. (Oh, the allure of the little black dress!) Also teenage rebellion and angst.

Fashion people are known to love black, even though Anna Wintour reportedly hates it. Many designers, including Yohji Yamamoto, are partial to it.

Mr. Yamamoto once told The New York Times: “Black is modest and arrogant at the same time. Black is lazy and easy, but mysterious. But above all, black says this: I don��t bother you, don’t bother me.”

I asked Kate Lanphear, the women’s style editor of T magazine and a favorite of street-style photographers thanks to her personal look, which mostly involves black, why she likes it.

“All black quickly became my go-to uniform early in my career for two simple reasons,” she said. “First, it often looks more expensive than it is. This was essential when I was a struggling assistant and couldn’t afford the very best. And second, it’s easy. You could essentially get dressed in the dark.”

This is also what the designer Narciso Rodriguez told me when I asked him. (At the time he was wearing a black T-shirt with black jeans and a black jacket.) “It’s a no-brainer,” he said. “And you always look pulled together.”

You don’t have to worry about clashing patterns, what color goes with what or sticking out like a sore thumb in chartreuse. And precisely because there are so many cultural associations attached to the color black, it comes ready-made with a certain amount of mystery and provocation. Which one is yours?

That can be an advantage, or it can be annoying. It is also why black has been a wardrobe color of choice for so long, and why it is unlikely it will go away as a fashion choice any time soon — or, in fact, ever. (Another reason to wear black is that it’s a pretty good investment.)

Still, if you wear it, you have to be prepared for the reactions it may provoke. Thanks to all of the above, and as that El Paso hoo-ha showed, black may be a basic, but it is rarely neutral.

[realmsalot]

I've been obsessed with Relativity Falls au for some reason lately so of course I've been turning around my own version in my head lately. And with Fiddleford I keep flip flopping on who I would switch him because there are many good options. Like

Fiddleford <> Pacifica:

This seems to be the most popular option, I've seen many old woman Pacifica designs, but I personally cannot see McGucket be the snotty rich kid that Pacifica was at the start. I CAN see how he could be rich (Tate McGucket probably invented something and got a lot of money for it) but CAN'T see him be anyway snotty about it. I think the best way to make Fiddleford fit this role is through a series of misunderstandings. He is trying SO HARD to be nice to these twin brothers who are spending their summer in Gravity Falls and he just keeps messing up. He tries to make a robot to help them out but it end up turning evil and they assume that it was ment to sabotage them from the start. He tries to have a nice conversation with them but because he's rich he's just out touch enough to come off rude and show offy. FIDDS IS TRYING TO BE NICE FROM THE START!

Fiddleford <> Candy

It is easily the second most popular option here. There really isn't much to say with this one it's probably the one that makes the most sense. I can easily see Candy going to Backupsmore and telling Dipper/Mabel about the weird things shes seen in Gravity Falls. The idea that Stanley and Fidds became friends first before Ford and Fidds is interesting. My main grip with it is that if we're going with the version where Dipper is swapped with Ford, it implies that Mable and Candy never really became friends in this universe, which I find really sad. Honestly I think that the main reason this swap exists in that context is because of that one episode were they go on a road trip and Candy got crush on Dipper mixed with fact that many people ship FiddleAuthor.

Fiddleford <> Soos

Hear me out, hear me OUT! I've seen a few versions where even when Soos' Grandma is swapped with Soos, they also add Fidds as a handyman at the Shack anyways. But why not go the whole way, ya'know? Soos was a friend that Dipper met and shared a dorm with in Backupsmore. Soos was still older than Dipper. Soos and Melody were already married with a kid on the way, and Soos was also Gravity Falls' local handyman. He decided to get college and get like a mechanical engineering degree or maybe a trade in something there because even in the small town of Gravity Falls technology was only getting more and more complicated and Soos wanted to be able to keep up so he can keep making money for his family by fixing things. During their time at Backupsmore, Soos would tell Dipper about some of the crazy things he's seen living in Gravity Falls, and that inspires Dipper to go study it after college. And then the rest of that rolls out predictably. I can easily (and sadly) see Soos becoming the local kook. I imagine that it will also be much sadder for the locals to see Soos acting up because many of them have memories of him coming to fix their microwaves and stuff. And as for Fidds, he's the Mystery Shack's handyman. You can make him around the same age as the Stan twins, we know that in cannon that Soos started working there around that age, so he doesn't have to be Soos' cannon age. I think this works best with Dipper and Ford switching places because in cannon Dipper and Soos were friends, so it kinda easily transfers, ya'know. I've put a lot in this one.

And uh yeah that's my incoherent ramblings...

[massivelyanerd]

[dunyun-rings]

hi! please don't contribute to the popularity of moo deng. she's in extremely inappropriate environments for a pygmy hippo, and is constantly being handled poorly. she doesn't atm have deep wading waters, and the ground make up of her enclosure isn't good for her hooves. the reason why she reacts to strongly to her handlers isn't just because she's a bit sassy; it's because she's constantly under stress. encouraging this behavior by aggravating her and making her see her handlers as threats is going to result in a very aggressive and dangerous adult pygmy hippo. this is coming from a wildlife and animal care expert.

Posting my art under this info so that people can better understand the situation and demand better conditions and care for her.

If anyone knows of any petitions, charities or other ways to put pressure on her handlers/zoo I would love if you commented or reblogged with such!

[year2000electronics]

What happened to Tate in this AU? Did he eventually move to Gravity Falls and succumb to the curse? If so, what is he? Does he even recognize his dad?

(for those of you playing at home, the au is my own take on monster falls!)

NOW THERES A GOOD QUESTION. i think that tate would stay, even despite the curse. because, like, if you think about CANON tate, HIS dad packed up and left to go to gravity falls, and when tate went to gravity falls, he surely must have found a crazy memory-less old man mcgucket who doesnt even know who his own self is, let alone who tate would be. but the thing to me is, somethings keeping tate there. despite all the hopelessness, somethings keeping tate in gravity falls. with his dad. is emma-may out of the picture for him too? is he desperate to have his dad in his life again? is the rent in gravity falls just cheaper? who knows.

so that means i would have to assign tate a monster. right. i think i would want to have it be something adjacent to mcgucket, obviously... and i think tate might have to be a scarecrow.

REASONING.

one of the popular assignments for monster falls mcgucket is a scarecrow (likely due to his hat)! so theres that sort of meta-connection

scarecrows being associated with farmers and fields keeps that sort of connection tate and fiddleford have with them being farm boys

this one feels weird-but-right. you know what a scarecrow and a "tin man" would be? thats right. 2/3 of dorothys buddies in wizard of oz. "BUT WHERES THE COWARDLY LION?" i dont know. im the cowardly lion. youre the cowardly lion. we're all the cowardly lion. in my mind im just justifying why i think scarecrows and robots are linked together in my mind

"you could have made ford the cowardly lion if you kept him as a sphynx" shut up.

[notur-dreamboy]

Assinging the endless to dead boy detectives characters because I can. (With explanations using a mix of comic and tv show lore)

Edwin - dream This was a hard choice, and while Despair was the more Canon choice as she claimed him as her friend in the 7th episode. Alternatively, I like exploring the similarities in dream and Edwin's character arch. In the comics edwin died in 1916 and escaped hell in 1989 much like the show, in the comics dream was kidnapped from 1916-1989 as opossed to the show where he escapes in 2020 or 2021 (I am unsure as to which one) they also both go through archs of finding companionship/acecpting people into their life and finding a greater purpose/finding peace with the one they're given. They're also both the bitchy intellectual type and hate most people.

Charles - destruction. I see so much fan content with him and desire, and while I see the vision, I have to disagree. (I also wanted to save them for the much more obvious choice) Destruction abandoned his position after he saw science being used as a tool for destruction because he didn't want to be the cause of massive devastation or obliteration (paraphrased from destructions page on the sandman wiki) and if that's not so incredibly Charles I don't know what is. Charles arch, we see him deal with this destructive type of anger he wants nothing to do with, so much so he represses all of it with a smile until it becomes too much.

Crystal - destiny. I gave her destiny because her arch and plotting in so intertwined with Edwin and Charles's it feels like it was nothing but destiny. Without her they wouldn't of even noticed the Becky Jackson case, the start of everything. Nothing would've happened without her. Because of her charles faced things he was hiding from himself for years, edwin let other people into his life, they wouldn't of saved niko if Crystal never had that quick interaction with her in episode one. She is so intertwined into everything I wouldn't be surprised if she was crafted by destiny himself.

Niko - death. There are multiple reasons why I gave niko death (including and in spite of the obvious). The biggest one is her future role as the principal, an employee of the afterlife and death. This is also another case of the personalities lining up. Death is seen as welcoming and kind despite being hated and feared as a concept. Death is also seen as wise and understands her role in life she is also the endless dream is closest with. On the sound of her wings when dream is feeling down about his quest for his tools being she allows him to shadow doing her job and offers him advice about his own state. I also just think death and dream's relationship is so similar to niko and Edwin's.

The cat king - desire. Really, this one is obvious. I don't know what you want me to say. His kingdom is all about want and pleasure, wuth is literally desire. His entire role is just to wake edwin up to his own desires. This is such a common concept that the most popular head Canon for him is that he is desires child.

Jenny - despair. I almost gave despair to edwin along with dream given their Canon interaction, but I decided otherwise. We don't know much about Jenny's backstory, but things can be assumed and interpreted certain ways. She owns her family's butcher shop but no family is ever mentioned (outside of a quick anecdote about her father in episode 5 but more on that later), she doesn't seem to have any friends or a social life for that matter. The letters, she reads them and follows up on the but is immediately off put on the idea of a date, which ended horribly. Her father, described as an acholohic and raging narcissist, couldn't have been a man who provided a great childhood either, yet she still took up his butcher shop. We can assume he's out of the picture for one reason or another as Jenny runs the shop herself. The first piece of advice she offers essentially boils down to people who are selfish, it can be assumed this is pulled from personal experience. Jenny is a character surrounded by despair and has grown so comfortable in it she doesn't even notice it anymore.

Tragic mick - delirium. The only endless to have 2 forms, delirium used to be delight before she evolved to delirium for reasons unknown to even destiny. Mick initially seen as comfortable in his human for until we learn about the washer woman. Niko gives him a piece of sea glass in hope it will help but instead we see him descend further into the quite madness he's proven himself into. Then we hear his story, a tragedy about a walrus forec to live the rest of his life as a human because of a bad decision. He's winds up mad (or delirious if you will) by thus decision, now wanting nothing more than to go back to being a walrus.

Bonus (Esther, monty, and the night nurse as various sandman characters) (little explanation, sorry)

Esther- the Corinthian. Created (or blessed) by a god-like deity for a certain purpose but took it too far out of pure selfishness

Monty- Mathew. Simply because they're both anthropomorphic birds.

The night nurse- lucienne/ lucien. A loyal assiant to their respective endless. Certain events cause them to drift from what they've always done or thought.

[shinyshade8026]

This theory won't do well, but meh

It's a pretty 'small' theory I guess? But it has to do with timeline things, specifically with the death of Doll's family

...this is gonna be a case of 'hear me out', isn't it...

So, what if the death of Doll's father takes place during the pilot?

Now, listen to me here

Yeva likely died when she was younger, and that left her with her father all the way until the pilot. He dies just before the fight at the end of the episode.

He and Doll were likely getting to the hideout area when V caught them. Doll was able to hide but her dad wasn't lucky, snapping a photo of V to try and blind her right before dying.

The Pilot is where Doll's solver activates, right alongside Uzi, which connects them even more.

This explains why Doll seems much more talkative and popular and happy during school that day, compared to how we see her for the rest of the show. She was living with her dad, having a happy life, right up until her father died.

Now, what gives me this thought?

The red lighting of the memory that Doll shows V.

Yeah, it might just be the fact that its coming from Doll's memories and Doll's system color is red... but what if its red because of the alarm lights? Painting every thing in that nice red color?

This connects Doll and Uzi so well!!

Their solvers being activated on the same day Living with their fathers for most of their lives Losing their mothers at a young age

This also provides more reason to why Doll acted the way she did.

Anyways, yeah, im done blabbering

Time for this to fucking FLOP /silly /j

[deep-hearts-core]

The Competitive Barbershop Music Explainer, and Why More of Tumblr Should Be Obsessed With It.

I've been threatening this for now almost a year, so here it is. You probably have an idea in your head of what a barbershop quartet is: maybe you’ve seen The Music Man, or possibly the Louie Zong Hatsune Miku song. But barbershop exists as a hobby these days, too, and there are parts of it that are deeply cool and nerdy. Some of you--gasp--might actually enjoy it. 

What the hell is barbershop music?

Barbershop music got its name from the Black barbershop social space out of which it evolved. In the early 20th century, groups of guys would get together and harmonize as a way to pass the time. The style later got appropriated into white culture (I’m going to come back to this, keep reading) and evolved into what most people think of when they hear the phrase “barbershop quartet”. 

Barbershop got a lot less popular after the 1960s or so, but it’s not gone! Today, it’s overseen primarily by the Barbershop Harmony Society (formerly the Society and Preservation for Barbershop Quartet Singing in America, but… that’s long…), which organizes contests and codifies the “rules” of what barbershop is and how it’s different from other a cappella. Those rules are mostly music theory stuff, which I won’t go into here for fear of boring people, but if anyone is curious my askbox is open :D 

It’s not just quartets, either. There are also choruses that sing in the same four-part style, following the same music rules as the quartets, and they compete too. This is how I got involved.

Why is Tumblr supposed to enjoy this?

Reason #1: The competition. I’ve been on Tumblr for several years, and do you know what we love? Ranking things, picking favorites, and watching talented people do their thing. It’s actually kind of similar to Eurovision--there’s a jury and a points system, and people get mad about it every year; there’s a qualifying round and a nerve-wracking calloff; it’s even international! BHS operates in the US and Canada, and most competing groups are from here, but there are sizable scenes in the UK, Sweden, Australia, and Aotearoa, as well as smaller organizations across Western Europe and beyond. The Japanese organization held its first ever competition this year! Regional contests happen all over once or twice a year, culminating in the international competition the first week of July, where quartets and choruses battle it out to be the best of the best. People have favorite groups and try to guess where people are going to place each year. If you’re me, you can even do the Eurovision fan thing and overanalyze the running order. 

Reason #2: The talent. Listen, many of these people are incredibly talented singers. Take The Clementones from Denmark, for example, who delivered amazing Addams Family character work this year. Or Smoke Ring, the New York City-based quartet trying to singlehandedly make barbershop sexy again. I could give you so many examples of singers who can hold long notes forever and ever, but I’ll show restraint and only link two: Vocal Spectrum and Midtown. And of course I have to link this fucking amazing Hunchback of Notre Dame medley. Many singers also arrange songs specifically for their own groups. If you’re a music nerd in any way, this is for you.

Also, if you enjoy niche subcultures or #hobbydrama, there’s so much to rotate in your brain. This is part of what hooked me initially. 

But it's racist/culturally appropriated!

Well, you’re not wrong… but so are a lot of things. Bear with me for a second. I'm not going to come out and blindly defend the history and say oh there's nothing wrong with the organization we can't blame them. The organization was segregated for a long time. Women were only allowed to join as full members in 2018. The Black origins of barbershop singing were actively obscured by SPEBSQSA for decades and have only recently become well-known to most members. Hell, when the BHS went co-ed a splinter organization formed to try and keep the hobby all-male. There is bad history.

BUT. People are trying. There's a sizable contingent of young queer people who do well and become well-connected within BHS--including Smoke Ring, who I linked above. They’re causing a nonzero amount of controversy and are visibly queer and something new and unapologetic about that. More and more nonwhite people are joining and finding success competitively. Academics on the subject actively spread the history that barbershop is a Black genre, and this is increasingly common knowledge especially among young barbershoppers. The most successful barbershoppers in Aotearoa (BHNZ) are predominantly Māori and Pasifika. The BHS board, while they do not have any real understanding about how to execute this at all, does at least want to reckon with the history and is, in theory, trying. For all its many, many faults, there are good people here who are making change.

Ok fine, you've got me. Now what?

Go click on all the links in this post and then let the YouTube algorithm do its work. Also, send me asks! I can go on about this shit forever and ever.

Here are some more suggestions for you:

the chorus performance that first got me interested

Panic! at the Disco but it’s barbershop

these guys also do Spiderman! 

girls who will step on you and you will like it

the air raid warden song from that one tumblr post

air raid warden guys sing about ducks

totally not never gonna give you up. what? what are you talking about?

the first ssaa group to medal in bhs have since changed their lineup but this performance reigns eternal

And if you like to sing, see if there's a chorus (click here for SSAA only) or chapter nearby. I won't get preachy and say you'll have a great experience no matter what. Sometimes people suck; I have the luck to live in a major city on the East Coast and I can say with reasonable confidence that not everyone is going to be as chill as my people are. However, this is such a small space that everyone will be excited about a new person coming in and will likely give you a little leeway. 

I've only been doing this for a year and a half, but I can easily say that I love it and it's changed me. So, even if you scrolled to the bottom of this post rolling your eyes because I should just shut up about this already, thanks for listening. <3