#just a smidgen of accountability

[arcxnumvitae]

“You know, ‘righteous type’ is a fairly apt description for you.”

“You’re the last person that I want to hear anything about that from.”

[chuchurio]

“Perfectly fine."

* Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

Synopsis: Gojo becomes your project partner and things don’t go as planned. You distance yourself only to run into him at a party.

Genre: slow burn, a bit angsty, College AU, polar opposites, Gojo making a fool of himself,

WC: 7.1k

Warnings: Drinking. That’s it lol.

You were supposed to be having fun at this party. You’ve been waiting for the weekend to drink and forget your responsibilities. You’re not new to the image of drunk college students and sweaty bodies with the linger of hormones in the air. 

 It was normal. Everyone wants to unwind, and give in to the haze and blurs that alcohol provides. Sure, a majority of you were drinking under the age requirement but there’s a liberty not many experience when you willingly take a sip of that bitter mixture. 

This still fucking sucks. 

You drag out a sigh and fix your posture against the wall. You weren’t usually stuck to it, even when people would push and shove. You’d usually be slotted between people, rolling your hips and gravitating toward anyone allowing the rhythm to erase time. This though? Not cool and it hasn’t been ever since he popped up. 

He was such an obnoxious idiot that you swore to steer away from him because although you weren’t one for prejudice— he was someone you’d never consider talking to. He’s always been there, and could almost make you believe in that little cliche of red strings. 

If there were any romantic feelings involved of course. 

That wasn’t the case. . 

.

.

.

It started in the communications course you took. The class was just a filler for you, something that was supposed to be an easy pass. You were sitting alone like in most classes you didn’t care much for. Your advisor had said the class would be the easiest ‘A’ you’d receive in the semester, feeling dumb if you didn’t take it. So you did what any person would do for a degree. 

The metal chairs had enough space to move but not enough to where you could accidentally touch elbows. It’s a cramped place, but it’ll have to do for a few months. It’s common for students to leave an empty seat for their bags or even just simple boundaries.

God knows you needed a bit of that. 

Nonetheless, it was short-lived, a loud thud making your body take a screenshot and your blood freeze. The backpack was thrown carelessly by your feet, already a bad sign. you look up to see who is disturbing your peace. 

“‘Voluntarily signing up’ is not what I would call it.” He complained on the phone with a frown, annoyed at the receiver. 

The man was handsome. You couldn’t lie, he had a charm to him that didn’t require speech, a little smile and it’d bring a flock of women, blue eyes that you’d poke fun at if it wasn’t for how.. complimentary it was on him? He had nepo baby written all over him. 

Best you mind your business. 

Good for you. 

Then he outstretched his legs over the table, pretty close to your notebook as he continued to yap ignorantly while remaining too close for comfort. 

You held back a glare and flickered your eyes over to him, slowly scooting your notebook to the left, deciding to go a passive route. Until he moved them again— 

“Excuse me. Can you please not?” You requested softly but he didn’t even offer you a glance. Were you not loud enough? What the hell is this dude’s deal? 

He continued to talk without regard to what you asked for – as if you were a fly buzzing along his ears. 

This is the part you truly regret. Deep, deep, down. 

You harshly shoved his legs off the table, earning a stumbled sentence out of the white-haired guy. 

“Fuck– hey! It’s rude to interrupt a phone call!” his gaze fell on you and found your eyes staring right back at him with a smidgen of anger.

Gojo hadn’t taken a glance around the room, too busy being annoyed to take into account who was in the class. All he asked for was a free period. He wanted time to maybe go lounge around the many campus lobbies, give a pretty sight to tourists who’ll be in awe of his appearance, or even bother his friend Suguru about the latest mistakes he made. 

Instead, he was placed in a boring ass communications class. 

He’s been trying to contact his advisor to fix this shit all week, and he’s been ignoring his calls. He had been ranting to Suguru the whole way, flashing a smile toward familiar faces. To the ones he’d fuck around with at least. 

Now he was here, staring right back at your pretty eyes. His tone took a turn from its original annoyance. 

“Well, You’ve got all my attention.” his voice was smooth, similar to how a hot pan bubbled cold butter. It could’ve sent chills down your spine. 

You rolled your eyes, unimpressed by his facade. 

“Watch your legs.” You repeated more sternly. You could feel his eyes scan you — honestly, he’s shamelessly moving his gaze up and down your figure. Your eyes narrowed at the blatant stare. 

He chuckles, giving you a practiced smile that comes with ease, “Didn’t think it got in your way, faults mine.” He didn’t actually pay attention to what he had done before, his mind set to ask about the woman beside him. 

“What’s ya name?” 

You make a hum, not giving him a proper answer.

“Okay – mmm, I like it. Easy name to call out for you.” He gave you a wink, only earning a confused look from you. You weren’t picking up any of his bullshit, this was easy to see, you were a good observer after all. If your demeanor didn’t show it, surely your grades did. 

Your nose scrunched in distaste, his flirtation crashing against the wall you built around yourself. There was an awkward silence, his smile growing strained as you exchanged opposite expressions. You only sighed and muttered a little ‘Please don’t let it happen again.’

It was disappointing, to say the least. 

But not for Gojo. You were pretty but not anything he’d go for initially. He had a large pallet, just not a frequent one to stay with a single option. Why do that when he could get a bit of here and there? He respects the grind you got, he can see it in the way you meticulously toy with your pen, how you didn’t hide your view, flickering occasionally in coordination with the important things around the room. Not people though. 

He can be observant too when it benefits him.

After this interaction, there wasn’t much to it. You didn’t think he’d even sit there again with the way things went the first day. To your surprise (and misfortune), he would sit there every class. He learned your name through the professor, explicitly accentuating the syllables in your name. You learned to ignore him, offering hums as responses. He grew tolerable, not likable, but tolerable. 

The only thing you two really had was a greeting, the most exchange of words you both had aside from the little banter you shut down. It was the same shit every time too– 

“Y/n, the only thing I like about this class, how’s it going?” 

“Fine.” 

“Just fine?”

“Perfectly fine.” 

It became a common exchange at each class meeting, some days there was more than just that. Regardless, you kept it at a minimum for your sake. You weren’t a bitch, you swore up and down to yourself that you just can’t keep up with his lifestyle. 

The first thing you notice; is his popularity. People took the time out of their day not only to say hi to him but to have a full-on conversation. He wouldn’t rush it either, he’d stand outside of class just to wrap it up. You could never have that much attention. 

The next thing to catch your eye was the amount of women around him. Again, it’s none of your business – however! When you do run into him, he’s either standing there with charm mode activated or with discomfort. The discomfort is usually when he’s rejecting a girl- again, that’s neither here nor there. 

And finally, the biggest problem was; that he was pretty. It might seem like he was harmless, but that’s how he dragged you in. And you weren’t going to be one of them. 

All you have to do is stay away from Satoru Gojo, and you’ll survive the class. That plan would’ve gone great if this communication class didn’t require a partner project.

The professor didn’t like you, because ‘GOJO’ is written beside your last name in big fat letters. You had to be cursed, there was no way they partnered you up with him! His name settled beside yours like it was taunting you right in the face. You heard a faint snicker, making you glance in its direction. Gojo failed to hide his smirk, the cough he made couldn’t disguise it. You sat there, trying to make an excuse, your brain and mouth not cooperating to form words but rather sounds.

“So, Y/n, you’re the lucky gal huh?” You looked up at him, slight disgust making him put his hands up in defeat with a lazy smile appearing in defense. 

You frantically look around if anyone is just as disturbed by their assigned partner, but no one bats you an eye. 

“Fuck.” you grumbled weakly, with a sigh. You’d have no choice anyway. 

It was the start of this whole mess. 

It was a challenge to meet up at first. You’d text a time, sometimes a day, and his response would be along the same lines. 

‘Ohhhh I have practice today’ 

‘Ahh that was today?? I’m not on campus’ 

‘I was free buttt I’m tutoring’ 

That tutoring one was a complete lie to begin with, you caught on after seeing him with girls from the cheer team, sometimes the volleyball players. You had no faith in his reliability. 

You’d show up to the library, silently skimming and taking notes on what was needed, the smell of food in the dining hall would occasionally greet you when you studied there. One of these days you were bound to run into him, which you did. 

His laugh came to a rough halt, shoes squeaking in a stop too. “Y/n?? Woahhh didn’t think I’d see you here.” He looks surprised, a bit guilty? He should be anyway. 

You flicker your gaze to the pretty brunette beside him. She wasn’t fazed by the interaction, continuing to sip on her drink while looking directly at you. 

“Yeah.. who’d figure I’d come study… at a library..” you uttered out. He makes a wince, scratching the back of his neck. “I dont have my laptop on me right now��” it was like he was trying to negotiate. 

He suddenly perked up, the imaginary lightbulb obvious with the way his demeanor changed. “You can come to my dorm tomorrow, swear I’ll have everything laid out for you,” you narrow your eyes, not convinced. 

“I already have most–” 

He pushes up his glasses, doing one of his poses (were they timed? You weren’t sure) “I wouldn’t be an amazing partner if I didn't offer, I know.” 

That’s how you ended up walking up to his dorm building. Good thing you set things straight beforehand, a little plan for you two to follow. 

You had taken the time out of your day to research the information that might align with your points, making a document of the ones that would support your argument. You gave him a few links and met to discuss which would work. It’s as easy as it sounds. 

It didn’t go as you thought. 

“Gojo please just read this last paragraph so I can take my ass to bed.” You complained, shaking the distracted man to offer a sliver of attention to the listed sources. 

He scoffs and lets out a loud dramatic sigh, “I will! I will! Just let me finish this level real quick.” 

After a few hangouts, you’d expect him to stop being so childish. You thought that it was one of those things where the person acts like an idiot but is secretly a mastermind of sorts. You’ve been trying to get him to meet up again and it’s been difficult to pin him down. 

It’s like everyone wants Gojo for something, Not you though, you’re forced to. 

“I have to walk back to my dorm and it's freezing cold–” He wasn’t listening to you. You glared at the white-haired man, irritated. 

You couldn’t take it anymore, with a huff you reached for his phone – with much protest – and turned it off. 

“Seriously. We need to get it together! I need a good grade!” He only whines and tries to reach for his phone again. 

“Come onnnn just let me finish it!” he reached up, making you flex your arm higher. 

“No. We’re getting this done–” 

He scoffs again, “I’m taller than you don’t forget that.” 

He flexed farther than you, his arm pressed against yours as you fought to keep it out of his reach. You’d try to push him off, annoyed he gave it a shot. He does the same, trying to gain the upper hand. 

“Dude it’s not that serious!” He huffed out, your arm moving swiftly in the air to keep out of his reach. 

“I should be saying the same to you-” You yelp at the sudden weight that toppled over you. Gojo overpowered you quickly, making you fall in defeat. His hand shot out in an attempt to not completely fall on you. 

You freeze, staring back at him with a surprised expression. He does seemingly the same with his smile nowhere to be seen. 

You blink. He blinks. 

He stares. You stare. 

After a few awkward seconds, you clear your throat, turning your head to the side to avoid eye contact. Breaking him out of his trance, he swiftly backs up, trying to act nonchalant about the accident. 

“I’ll read through it tomorrow.” He said, leaning his back against the small makeshift desk. You sit up, gently scratching the back of your neck. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s fine.” You reached for your books, closing your laptop and gesturing to his door, “I should like, probably head back–” He agreed almost immediately, helping you pack your things. 

But that wasn’t the only time things... Were weird. 

A few days later he began to greet you outside of class. It was something small, but it made a difference when the people he hung out with gave him a strange look. You’d only offer a little wave and remain casual or else you’d overthink the way you walk too. 

Then he began to frequent the actual library suggestions. Letting him know that you research the topics a few hours before discussing them with him. It was a way for you to think... Until he started appearing for that as well. 

You were sitting at a small cubicle-like table, the booths private with the only way in being from the left. He was busy lazing around on his phone, flickering to you once in a while. You were silently reading over the added post, with a sigh. “I don’t know why you keep reading over it, is it that bad?” he asked mindlessly, earning a bit of a scowl from you. 

“An A is considered anything above a 93, for this specific project,” you read it out loud, hoping he’d feel the same about it. He just looked at you, before shrugging and going back to scrolling through his phone. “I’ll take a C too.. It’s passing,”

“That’s it?? You’re just conceding that fast??” He raised a brow, looking over at you with confusion, “Conceding is a bit dramatic don’t you think?–” You shake your head and push back your hair from your face as if it’d fix the score details. 

He has caught onto that habit, the way you want to be upset but don’t know if to focus on working with the new information or if to let the feeling take over. He sighs and slides over to your side, “Alright what about the rest of them?” You open your mouth to rebuttal, wanting to tell him that it didn’t matter because an A is the only reasonable grade. 

“Aht– I said what are the other scores, we know an A is higher than a 93.” You go silent, reluctantly sharing your laptop screen with him. 

“92 to 85 is a B, and 84 to 78 is a C,” He nods slowly, listening to you read the score grades for the project. “And a D?” You shot him a glare, making him raise his hands in defense. “Kidding– jeez tough crowd.” He mumbled. 

You can see him looking at the scores with the same disdain. He makes a hum, his thumb pressing to his chin before making a hum. “The most you’re getting out of me is a C,” 

You gasp, shaking your head, “Seriously?? Not even a B??” Your voice held a tremble, in disbelief at his honesty.

 “I can give something in the low 80’s if I try–” 

“That’s not even closer to a B Satoru!” You whisper yelled, nudging his shoulder. He dramatically fell back, a whine leaving his mouth. “Have some mercy on a soul like mine, don’t you have some compassion?” He batted his lashes, your stare in disgust as if he were some pest. 

“Seriously, I’ll help you out just tryyyy for that A pleaseee” You groaned out, trying to come up with a sort of excuse that’d encourage him. “A deal. Care to give me an offer?” He said teasingly, sitting up and once again interested, hoping you took the bait. 

You huff, gnawing at your thumb to think. Something that Satoru would want.. a motivation of sorts.. He already has money and luxuries she can’t even afford. 

He was watching silently, he’s grown to find pleasant the way your features would seem alert when you tried to focus. Your brows would crinkle just a bit, lips wrapped around your finger while you nibble on your nail in thought. 

“How about.. You do most of the talking for the presentation.. And I’ll do all the slides, you won't lay a finger aside from researching!” You quipped, looking over to see him looking at you silently. He hummed in response, “Hmmm I guess.” He said softly. 

That’s when you noticed just how close he was, his leg pressed close to yours, resting his chin against his palm as he kept his eye on you. 

He was close, too close for comfort, your body growing warm at the proximity. You swore you saw his gaze flicker down, his words leaving an unkept flutter in your stomach. 

“Is there anything else an A can get me?” His voice was low, the question technically innocent. Your body felt otherwise. 

Your mouth goes dry as if kindergarten had never done its job to teach you the alphabet, like the letters look more like symbols and you can’t communicate— that type of feeling. 

You tear your gaze away, a choked laugh making its way out. “W-We can go to that dumpling stand near campus. It’ll be on me.” You scoot away, your attention diverted elsewhere.

Unbeknownst to you, he was disappointed at your retraction, strangely hoping you would’ve remained in that position. 

—————————

Days would go by, forcing him to stay late to study, reaffirming his tone to perfection. He would complain at first, reluctant to show up. You went as far as getting in contact with that pretty brunette he was with last time. 

“So.. He’s actually trying to get a higher grade than a C?” She asked with a hint of surprise to her tone. You nod, trying to get her on board with your meticulous plan, “An A to be exact.. I really need the grade..” 

“And he agreed to it?” She asked, eyebrow raised. You nod once again, “He’ll focus on speech and delivery, while I do the background stuff.. I just need him to remain concentrated.” His word was something but having extra help wouldn’t be a bad idea either. 

“Wow.. is that so?” she trailed off, making you a bit nervous. You quickly reassured the woman, “Are you dating him? Because I don’t have intentions of–” The girl’s eyes widened before letting out a dry laugh. 

“That’s not it- I’m just surprised he is promising to try for an A… he’s more of a.. you know,” she makes a little motion with her arm and shrugs, “Go with the flow typa guy.” 

You felt a growing embarrassment wondering why you assumed that was an option to begin with—specifically the dip in her stomach while waiting for her response. 

You’d come to find out the girl’s name was ‘Shoko’ and thankfully so she did help out to keep him in line. Sometimes he’d come whining, dragged along by the unphased woman, other days she’d manage to steal his phone and hand it to you as ransom. She was great truly. 

Eventually, he’d start showing up on his own. Dragging Shoko to your sessions so she could listen to him recite the presentation. You’d both share your laptop even if he brought his own, he would get you snacks and even show you the research and points he found. 

Shoko even jokes you’ve got him wrapped around your finger. You want to beat yourself for feeling pride at the thought. 

. 

.

.

You’re brought out of your thoughts to Satoru calling out your name, “Finally, been repeating your name for a while now– you ready?” He asked with a smile, the sight bringing you another wave of nervousness for some reason. 

“Yeaahhh…” you trailed off before shaking your head and making a disappointed hum. He wouldn’t admit it, but he found it rather cute.. The more he talked to you, the more expressive you had become. 

Just how far would he go to see it all? 

“Hey, we’re prepared. You prepared us very well.” He was trying to ease you, flashing you another smile and a playful wink, “Now let me win it for ya.” 

This was it. The outcome was now in his hands. 

“I know you will.” You said softly, and somewhere there, you could see the peaks of his ears crimson up, but he’d clear his throat and turn away. 

“ ‘kay then, let’s not lose points for showing up late.”

————————

You’re sitting beside Satoru, his body draped across the lounge chair at the library. You’ve been refreshing Canvas for the past 10 minutes, waiting for your final grade to appear. 

“I’m sure they’ll post it soon, chill,” he commented mindlessly, his arm lazily nudging you. You shake your head, gnawing at your nail as you wait for the blank line to be replaced with a number. 

He kept his eye on you before sitting up and scooching closer to where you sat. He rests his cheek against his hand, watching you silently. Finally, he catches your attention, hesitantly glancing in his direction. 

“You okay?” 

“I’m.. fine.” 

“Just fine?” 

You couldn’t help but feel the smile creeping up your face, unable to hide the appreciation for his concern, 

“Perfectly fine.” You finally spoke, taking a deep breath and nodding, as if affirming your last statement. He lost your gaze to the screen again, staring expectantly and fidgeting with your nails by flicking them against each other. 

He reached for your hand, his touch warm as he stopped you from continuing the nervous action. That alone made you slowly turn to him. You silently stare, unsure whether this squeezing in your chest is a good sign. 

He replicated your smile, “You gave the right links, You didn’t stutter, that’s a good grade to me.” he reassured you. You only nodded again, your brain telling you to retract from his hold, but your body didn’t listen. He looked back at you with the same expression, beginning to gently run his thumb across the back of your hand. 

“Actually, I was thinking we could–” Your laptop made a happy chime, an email regarding to the updated grades. “It’s in!” You pull your hand away with no thought, leaving Satoru with a slight sulk. 

You scroll through the assignments, clicking the ‘grades section and waiting impatiently for it to load. 

“Holy shit..” you muttered to yourself, a bright smile forming on your lips. 

Sure it wasn’t 100, but a 95? You’ll take it. 

Satoru shoves his face a little closer to the screen and a genuine laugh left his mouth at the score. “Didn’t I say you’d be okay?” 

You roll your eyes, the smile you wore was more relaxed and relieved. “Yeah, yeah, you were right.” 

He leans closer, his expression taunting with the little snicker he made, “That means I winnn” he made a dramatic pose, tips of his fingers to his forehead like he was a know-it-all to begin with. 

True.. You didn’t think he’d get the same grade as you but surely opening the site– he got the same score. 

“Huh… I guess you do..” You mumbled, biting your lip at the number while he continued flaunting the score. 

—--------

It wasn’t a date. You reminded yourself of it constantly;  it's a truce, an agreement, a celebration of your passing grade. Even then, You were fidgeting with the ends of your sweater, readjusting your scarf every ten seconds. Not because you were nervous or anything. 

“Heyyy You got here before me.” He said with a smile, his breathing fanning out in white puffs. You nod, glancing over to the sidewalk, “Better than one of us being late.” He shrugs, beginning to walk in the direction of the stand. 

“How far is it again?” You made a hum, trying to guess an estimate, “About a 15-minute walk or so..” He nods slowly before nudging your shoulder, “Brought your wallet, right? Because I left mineeee” With that tone, it was obvious he left it on purpose. 

“You’re rich.” You deadpanned, watching him snicker before making another shrug, “And? Free food is priceless.” You roll your eyes, a little smile forming on your lips. 

After a while, you did get used to him. He wasn’t as bad as you thought, for the most part. 

“I think this just proves we should be partners for the rest of class?” He suggested coolly, earning a scoff from you and a side eye, “Yeah right.. we had to lock in near the end because of how busy you were.” 

He made a dramatic sigh, “You’re keeping me away from success Sweetheart.” The pet name didn’t fall on deaf ears, a tingling spark waking your senses at the sound of it. 

“Are you saying I’m a lucky charm?” You asked with a brow raised. 

His grin said it all, glancing down at you. “Definitely my lucky charm, yeah.” This was just typical Satoru, his comments coming off as flirty. His charming smile activated, so normal of him, 

But when did it start working on you? 

You look away, needed after this gnawing sensation has started to make itself known, none of it being good. 

There was a time when even looking in his direction made you scowl, where you heard him at a distance and felt exhausted before seeing him. 

But here you are. Talking about anything and everything, he’s listening to you, and you’re openly letting him know. 

There’s an exchange of words rather than an assumption. 

You continue walking down the sidewalk, laughing at another stupid retelling of his daily adventures. 

“The scooter did happen to fuck up over a tiny rock and I ended up crashing into a girl scout’s cookie table..” You couldn’t even discreetly laugh, your voice echoing in fits of laughter. He didn’t have to worry about the cold when you had him feeling warm to the corner of his ears. 

“You’re obnoxious.” You watch him make a dramatic gasp, hand pressed to his chest. 

“I made up for it! I offered to buy the stock they brought but they were convincing enough to make me work beside them.” You cross your arms and nod. “An appeal for their business… I see the vision..” 

He scoffed, nudging your shoulder playfully and making you do the same with light banter. It was childish and you couldn’t help but play along. 

“You know you didn’t put your scarf on properly right?” He quipped out the topic. You glance down, trying to readjust it. “What? I was just trying to stay warm there–” He makes a hum before stopping in his tracks, taking a spot in front of you. “You won't be able to keep the cold out like that…” he murmured, his voice much lower when he came close. 

Your voice grew dim, unable to utter a word as his fingers unwrapped the knitted fabric. His eyes were focused on wrapping it a lot more snugly. “No cold right?” His voice was soothing, kicking out any chill there was before. 

“No..” you said softly, looking to the side to keep your heart from dysfunctioning, his thumb pressed against your chin, lifting it to offer a better angle and leveling your gaze. “I’m not there— but here.” his voice was dangerous to you, caught in sight like a deer in headlights. It was the proximity, unable to stop yourself from looking down at his lips. He must’ve caught on because his own flickered down to yours. 

His thumb pressed to your bottom lip as if he were questioning the realness of the situation. You didn’t stop him, closing your eyes as he drew closer. 

“Satoruuuuu! ‘S that you over there?” 

You opened your eyes, the moment cut short. 

He cursed under his breath, immediately pulling back. He held a tight smile, his expression complex to decipher. “Ah heyyyy, long time no see..” 

You glanced in the direction of the voice, catching a glimpse of a long-haired blonde woman. She was rather pretty, and the clothing she wore defined her figure. She eyed you for a long second, not hiding it at all. 

You made an awkward shuffle, pointing to the stand, “I’ll um.. I’ll go get us some.” he opened his mouth to speak, wanting to stop you, but nothing came out. “Yeah.. thanks..” he said softly, redirecting his focus to the blonde, giving you small glances.

You walked over to the stand, making sure not to stare just yet.. eventually you couldn’t help but glance back. The woman was devouring him with a stare, batting her lashes, smiling sweetly, all of the above really. 

You felt your stomach twist, forcing yourself to look away. A few minutes passed ordering your food, to be honest that was the last thing on your mind but you had to find a way to distract yourself. 

He didn’t mean anything to you.. or that’s what you want to think. You don’t know where this courage had come from, maybe it was the stolen glances or the time spent together, but you felt like things between the two of you could grow different? 

You held a soft smile, hearing your name be called close by. The worker handed you the two food trays, giving them a small ‘thank you’. 

You made your way to the two, hoping to maybe go eat this at the park nearby, or maybe even at the bench near the campus water fountain, his presence was nice— 

“So.. that’s that girl who passed by our cheer practice huh?” The girl spoke, her eyes focused on the white haired man. Her eyes would squint, judgmentally. 

“You dating her?” She asked with a pout, and the idea made your stomach flutter in ways it shouldn’t. 

“Nahh just a partner for class.”  

You stopped in your tracks, your feet growing heavy out of nowhere. Your heart was accelerating in the worst way, trying not to jump to conclusions. 

“Then why are you here?” She asked, looking up at him with faux innocence. You could feel mockery in her voice as if she were ready to start criticizing you without even speaking to you. 

“Didn’t want to disappoint. There’s just not a lot of me to go around ya know?” 

Your heart expands into your throat, body cold when you hear the words leave his mouth. But of course, you forgot.. you weren’t technically friends. 

This was a transaction of sorts, he'll cooperate to give you a good grade, in return he gets the grade too. It was such a simple process that you must’ve forgotten along the way. 

You aren’t friends. 

You guys weren’t in similar groups, your contact list could never double to his, Satoru wouldn’t glance at you if it wasn’t for the required project. It was conventional. 

And unfortunately, not realistic. Satoru would never see you for more than a classmate who helped him out. 

The amount of fabric didn’t save you from the cold breeze that filled you. There was no wind blowing but you felt like a simple graze would make you crumble into the air.

You backed up, trying to not make a sound on your way out. Even if they did hear your feet hit the cement, he wouldn’t glance because well.. he got what he needed, the reason to hangout was over. You can go back to your dorm, begin on personal projects and be satisfied with guaranteeing your full credit.  

You’re upset that you can’t feel relief. 

. 

.

.

. 

That’s how you ended up at this frat party. You’ve been ignoring Satoru for the past few weeks, at all costs. You’d see him appear, and you’d immediately walk the other way. There were times where he’d wave for your attention, to where you just kept your eyes away from him. 

Even when you did this, you had to remind yourself you didn’t like him to begin with. He was annoying, spoiled, and self absorbed. 

But you hated to remind yourself of things you didn’t truly believe. Somewhere along the way you used those reminders to excuse the ache of the many things he wasn’t. 

So there you are. Red solo cup in hand and the wall your only support. Your eyes flicker over to the DJ, the table he used was decorated with littered cups and bold people dancing on top. 

You wish you were that drunk, a part of you knew if you were, it wouldn’t be for fun. That’d be sad and you can tough it out! You don’t need any liquor to move on- 

“Y/n?” 

That voice brought a mirage of a person. They mixed drinks but not enough to give auditory hallucinations right? 

You look up to confirm the owner, your chest feeling tight all of a sudden. 

Satoru is staring at you, surprised. He tried to wave in your face, only making you glance the other way. “Hey it’s been a while!” He yelled excitedly over the music. You still didn’t answer, your eyes focused on your cup. 

You knew he was uncomfortable by the way he shifted, only moving a bit to let people push past him. He sighs, “wallflower huh? I’ll try it out.” He said coolly. 

He proceeded to follow your posture and pressed to the wall. You could almost get Deja vu from how things were going. It was silent between the two of you, he would occasionally steal you glances, and you? 

Well you acted dumb.  

You swerve the drink in a circular spectacle, watching it glimmer with the neon purple of the black light. This was stupid. You, feel stupid. 

“So.. you come here often?” He smirked, flashing you the signature charm. You groaned and rolled your eyes, already beginning to walk away.

“No wait— shit—“ he reached for your arm, softly grasping it before you were fully out of his view. It was gentle enough to shove him off but.. the touch was enough to stop you and wait. 

“How are you?” Your brows furrowed at the question. All these lights rotating from bright colors to dark ones, you saw him under every shade and the question still didn’t seem to have an answer. 

You press your tongue to your cheek, coming closer just because you don’t want to hear any more people give you drunken apologies for pushing you around. You don’t bother looking at him, glancing back down at your cup. 

“I’m fine–“

“Just fine?”

“Couldn’t be better.” 

He nodded slowly, if it weren’t for the ambiance, you could swear there was a bit of a frown at the response. He fumbled with the edge of his cup, for once keeping silent. “Is this what you stopped me for?” You ask, a little upset. 

He looks up, opening his mouth to speak with a confident smile before struggling with the sentence. “Look. I’m sorry about that whole thing last time, I didn’t think she’d talk to me for so long.” You scoff, ripping your hand from his grasp with a little mutter of something along the lines of ‘Go fuck yourself’. He didn’t like how he left things open-ended with you, but even worse— 

He hated how there was no banter like before. 

“Wait! Y/n come on – ” He reached for your wrist again, causing you to press it to your chest. You shake your head and slip past people, wanting out of this place. 

Partying was fun, the lights, the alcohol, and the music gave you this pedestal that you’ll probably never find in the day-to-day. You’ll even do risky dances to regret and laugh about later. 

But when you’re suffocated, the party is a loud trap. It cages you with semi-aware adults, the music is muffling your ears – and your senses are numb. No one moves but you’re pressed against their bodies, caging you. The heat makes the air as useless as water in your lungs. Something once good becomes the worst. 

Now add the guy you almost kissed with that. 

Your body is boiling for you to get the fuck out. 

You push against others, way past the excuse me’s as you feel your throat form a lump and your arms becoming tougher as they block you from sweaty bodies. The lump was growing and it only tugged at the nerves that start the faucet. 

You can hear Satoru right behind you, actually struggling to get by when everyone wants to speak with him. A popularity problem you’d guess, unrecognizability saving you for once. 

A long time ago you might’ve asked to be in that place. Tonight you’re grateful it helps you slip away. 

You could feel the fresh breeze strike your cheek, making your head whip in its direction. Finally, after pushing a random guy to the side without much protest–

You could breathe. 

You inhale deeply, your lung capacity going to its limit just to bring some color back to your face. The night was colder than when you had got there, but your body was too hot to feel like a disturbance. 

Then there was heaving right behind you, repeating the same actions you did. “Shit– y/n give me— a minute,” 

“No, Satoru — what else do you want from me!?” You exasperated, but he shook his head, you could see his brow twitch upward. He was gasping for air, trying to catch his breath. 

“I wanted to apologize.”

“I don’t accept it.” 

“It was unfair to you—“ 

You scoff, your eyes narrow and your throat begins to tighten. The imagery flashes through your head. His slender fingers wrapped around a few strands, his voice trailing off when he’d look down at you, and that stupid fucking look that was the bridge of this whole shit. 

“You lead me on like– like I’m another one of your distractions!” You didn’t mean for your voice to tremble, but it wavered enough to be noticeable. 

He tried to follow after you again causing you to harshly shake it off not wanting to be near him. 

“Is that how you saw it?? I was just-“ he looks just as frustrated as you, trying to understand you while you’re glaring at him with the same eyes he falls into. 

“Your grade mattered that much?— you used me?-“ he immediately began shaking his head at your accusation. “I didn’t even say that!-“ 

“No? You implied it. I heard it all!” You confirmed his worries, pursing his lips before letting out a sigh. “I didn’t mean... I didn’t know what I was saying alright?” His explanation wasn’t enough for you; it was too vague to fix the damage. 

You scoff, muttering a simple ‘of course’ and glaring at the grass. The sound of the music was more audible than your voices, obviously trying to find a way to go about this. 

“Y/n. It isn’t just about the grade— I didn’t care for it!” You shake your head once more, laughing dryly. 

“That’s what you wanted me to see, I knew you were a fucking liar, self absorbed asshole!—“ 

“Oh! Oh yeah?? And you have a stick up your ass all the time! You don’t give a fuck about anything else!“ he retorted back, “Always focused! The perfect student! hardworking! I’m not good enough for you!” 

You looked up at him, confusion overtaking your frustration. “You.. what?” 

“I can’t have a day where you don’t appear, it annoys me – aside from dealing with your nagging in class, I  could hear your damn voice in my sleep, you just had to be my partner?” 

You scoff, “You suck at this.” 

“Shut up. I’m trying here-” he pushed back his hair, frustrated with you. That seems to ease when your chuckle follows.

“I thought you held brawns and beauty,” you mumbled sarcastically, 

 “No, that’d be you.” 

The silence had never befell you both this quick. Breathing was terrifying, looking at him was terrifying, but more so was the acceleration of your heart. You were afraid that your body was pumping blood too fast, that the rhythmic drumming in your ears was audible. 

Satoru watches your silence, before deciding that his tongue was too tied for once. His hand hesitated, before reaching up to cup your cheek. 

Your lashes batted against your soft skin, staring up at him with a silent question. It didn’t take long for him to lower his face to yours. There was no hurry, no comedic comment, just his pride stepping down for once. 

His lips pressed against yours in a gentle kiss, the tension alleviating from weeks of pent-up emotions. He was infuriating with his comments, and stubbornness you sometimes couldn’t stand, 

regardless, your arms loop around his neck, pulling him for another once he begins to pull away.

[nickshutter]

If the Biden Administration thought it needed votes from "the left" to win, then they'd act like it. Maybe they'd try to be a little more "left." It's clear from their behavior that they've decided these votes aren't necessary to acquire. They've probably run calculations and determined that the Leftist Voting Block is insignificant—no need to adjust any policies for just a smidgen more when doing so could compromise their core base of Liberal Voters who aren't so sure about the whole "hold Israel accountable for its actions" thing. If it's a miscalculation on their part, then it's their fault if they aren't around next year—not the fault of the non-voting left, unconvinced by the snakes who never bothered to reach out to them but expected them to fall in line anyway.

[alexanderwales]

The BTK killer probably would have gotten away with it if he hadn't insisted on sending out communications, though there's also a chance that forensic genetic genealogy would have led to him eventually, as it did with Golden State Killer.

He sent a message asking whether they could track him if he sent in a floppy disk, and they said "no". (Specifically, he had prearranged that they put an ad in the paper with the words "Rex, it will be OK," if the answer was no.)

The floppy that he sent in had a single file, "TestA.rtf", which had no identifying metadata, but when the disk was run through EnCase, a digital investigation software, it showed that there was another file which had been "deleted". It was still present on the disk because a floppy drive doesn't (by default) write over deleted files, it just unallocated the space. That file was an agenda for a meeting at a church, and the metadata said the user who saved it was "Dennis", so they Googled the church name, found that the church president was Dennis Rader, drove by his house and saw the same car they already had on grainy video, tested crime scene DNA against his daughter's medical records, and that was basically it. The time from him sending the floppy to getting arrested was ten days.

So the police lied to him. It helped them to catch him, but this is now enshrined in serial killer lore, and I have to imagine that any aspiring serial killer like BTK will have read this account. I wonder if there was ever any consideration of the balance here. I've read some accounts that they "tricked" him, but I don't think that this rises to the level of trick, it was just a lie, albeit one that he set himself up for.

Part of the strategy with BTK was to stroke his considerable ego, to say that he was interesting, to get him to communicate more, hoping that he would slip up. This, too, is part of serial killer lore, and understanding of how serial killers work and how the police will attempt to catch them.

But as time stretches into the future, it seems like these tactics can only work once if the criminals in question are even remotely attempting to evade capture. Doesn't the "meta" evolve? The police will simply lie to you, so you can't trust any information from them. Do the police think this understanding is a net good? I kind of think it's not, especially since it seems like it torpedoes the other strategy of rapport and trust building.

I don't think they were wrong to lie, necessarily, but it does seem like a trick that you can't use too many times, at least not on those who are doing even a smidgen of research.

[siena-sevenwits]

Goodness of the Day:

Last night my mom and Brother One were off to the airport (rather a drive) to fetch Brother Two home for Christmas. I had just woken up at the wrong part of a nap, and was a woozy grouch, and the last thing I wanted to do was anything. But reason was just awake enough to say, "So what are you going to do at home while the others welcome him? Scroll? Really restful that's going to be, isn't it?" And I cursed reason for being slightly awake, but I got my coat on, and I went, and you know what? Glad I did. I was sleepy and grumpy in the car, but silently so from the backseat, so it did not matter, and by the time we got to airport I woke up properly and was so excited to see my brother!

Almost everyone in our family has been told by one American friend or another that our prairie Canadian accent sometimes sounds a smidgen Irish, and more so when we read aloud non-fiction. (Weirdly I tend more Americn when reading fiction aloud? Maybe the influence of movies when I'm doing the voices of characters?) There may be a touch of "homeschool accent" to account for this "what-even-is-that-maybe-Irish? thing too. But Brother Two is tongue tied, and speaks a little differently but extremely understandably and perhaps more precisely than a lot of us, and even people in our own area ask him if he is Irish all the time. Well, apparently before he left [American city where he studies] yesterday, he was wearing a green hat. He also has an extremely red beard. Someone on the sidewalk asked him if he were a leprechaun. Then he opened his mouth to answer. Great was the delight, apparently.

Went for a lovely walk in the snow with Brother Two. We found plenty of animal tracks around the treed perimeter of the lower field. Mostly coyote tracks.

We Christmassed the house up. The tree is ornamented, the stockings are hung by the chimney with care, all the random knick-knacks are out. By unbreakable household tradition, all of this was done to the familiar sounds of the 1993 Harry Connick Jr. Christmas album. Even the tracks where he sounds terrible are beloved to us.

Family sang together in the chapel.

Brother One and I have cooked up a scheme. It's too hard to shoehorn Brother Two into the current storyline, but we want to include him in game night. So we're going to do a shorter "Christmas special" still set in Saltmarsh, so we don't need to invent a new setting. But the timeframe will be eight or ten years before the current storyline, with brand new main characters. This way Brother Two doesn't have to be familiar with anything and can enjoy it on the same level, but Brother One and I can also enjoy the fun of flashing back to earlier in some familiar characters' lives. (Oh gosh, this means Anders is somewhere between twelve and fourteen, doesn't it?)

[evscribe]

Mascara tinged tears streamed down your cheeks as the almost painful sharp ring of the phone pressed against your ear. “Please pick up.” You begged softly through hiccups. When the ring of the call stopped, you could feel your heartbeat pick up only for it to feel as if it fell to your stomach as the call is sent to voicemail. You let out a quiet sniffle before forcing a smile and a 'happy' voice, “Hey! Sorry to call so late, I just…” You trailed off for a second before swallowing hard. “I just wanted to hear your voice. It's been one hell of a day, but I know you're busy so I'll just catch you nex- “The end tone of the voicemail box cuts you off. A torrential downpour of tears leave your eyes as your phone slide from your hand and clatters to the ground beneath you. Between the myriad of things that had gone wrong in your day and the mix of emotions that made that even harder, being cut off by the automated voice made what little strength you had left shatter. Shattering is what it felt like, like you had been obliterated into thousands of tiny shards. Your body seemed to crumple into itself as you slumped to the floor, holding your knees to your body as if holding those tiny shards together by the grace of Satan himself. Nothing could go right today and everything that could go wrong had, not to mention the cavities of your mind reminded you of every dark crevice your life had. You knew Sodo was on the other side of the world on tour and the odds of him answering were slim, but in your desperation you held out a smidgen of hope. Well had. You cried in the deafening silence of your dark room, silently praying the darkness would swallow you whole as you buried your face in your hand, resisting the urge to tug at the soft strands of your hair. It wasn't until you noticed a soft light behind your hands that your cries softened. The source of the light was the now brightened screen of your phone. You could barely make out the letters of his name through your tears, but it seemed as if your hands moved on their own accord, picking up the phone, hitting the green button, and putting the phone up to your ear. ” Hey, baby. I got your voicemail. You okay?” He asks, his tone clear with concern. Another series of hiccups leave you as you swipe away tears with your free hand. You give a soft shake of your head as you answer him with a soft “no.” “You wanna talk about it?” He questions. You can almost see the slight tilt of his head in your mind as he asks you this. “I don't wanna talk about it. I'd rather hear about your day.” You tell him. You can tell that Sodo seems hesitant as he replies, before he goes on about the show he and the other ghouls had put on alongside Copia. He leaves nothing out and before you know it, the tears you had shed ceased and the hiccups had to turn into quiet giggles as Sodo explains Swiss' bought of stage antics. When he comes to the end of his account of the night's events, you hear a soft sigh leave him. “I miss you.” He says “I miss you too.” You tell him.

[rynnthefangirl]

Couldn’t comment on this on account of being blocked by this person on Pinterest (funny how they can block me from commenting, but I can’t block them to stop their dumb TG content from flooding my page… great design there Pinterest) so I’m just gonna say what I wanted to say here.

Aegon III is literally the future king and his relationship with Rhaenyra is completely fundamental not only to his own character but to the fate of House Targaryen and all of Westeros. We didn’t get NEARLY, not even CLOSE TO, not even a REMOTE SMIDGEN, enough scenes with Rhaenyra and her youngest sons.

Complain about Maelor being cut all you want (I agree it’s stupid) but how the fuck are you gonna bitch about book accuracy and then argue that Aegon the Younger’s character should have been cut down EVEN MORE, just so you can feel vindicated in your Rhaenyra hatred?? Rhaenyra’s character may have been thoroughly declawed in HOTD, but her love for his children was ALWAYS one of her most redeemable qualities and her spending time with her children is NOT a writing issue in HOTD.

God, these fucking Greenies I stg.

[princeanxious]

✨️Moondrop progress update #1✨️

Picture 1 desc/info: knowing that I'd want to make Moondrop once I finished Sundrop, I made sure that(when I remembered to, as I'm learning that i wasn't quite as 100% consistent as I hoped I was) to make traced out references of each finished carved piece so that I wouldn't waste time struggling matching both of their proportions, considering nearly every piece required a duplicate piece to help achieve the eventual 'hollow skeleton' method that I use. Also, this is what I mean when I state that theyre carved from popsicle sticks. If it works, it works. lol

Picture 2 desc/info: here's the full lineup of every carved piece I have ready for Moondrop so far, and roughly how it will fit together. Every arm piece, leg piece, and even knee joint and the head piece have a duplicate(sans for the detail on the head's piece, obviously, though the headpiece is more complex than that as well). To further expand on why I did this, instead of just having one piece each, I need to point out the arm, hand, and ankle joint pieces. They will not be connected in two places, only one, to achieve full range of movement for the limb that they are attached to.

To achieve this, whilst still trying to keep this project's weight light, I'll create a hollowed skeleton. Essentially where the insides of the limbs(and body) are made hollow via smaller pieces of wood/popsickle stick scraps glued in-between the base pieces, but leaving enough empty space on either side to add two things. One side will have a rolled cylinder of a reinforced cardboard/paper mache combo, to provide a hollowed slot for the long joint piece side to slot into, and the other side, two hollowed holes to slot a dowel through with the joint piece inbetween. (If this doesn't make sense, dw, I plan on taking pictures when I get to that stage to show how I do it)

I also just end up stuffing the remaining 'dead-space' between the carved pieces with paper before i add clay, to further sheer off any unnecessary internal weight. Now, what you couldn't see with my Sundrop, is that by the time I finished adding clay and test stringing him together and started looking at reference photos again for color references, I hadn't realized up until that point that I'd entirely forgotten to add the dca standard wire-hook on his back. Not even superficially. So this will be where project Moondrop(whom at least uses the wire far more than sundrop, lol) will deviate from my original Sundrop design. I might use paper and cardboard to flesh out his limb shapes further before adding clay to make his body even lighter than suns, I've reinforced his torso pieces to account for the hole I'll carve into the back for my goal of a Functional wire-hook, I've made adjustments to his thigh shape for better ease of movement/posability(which might coincidentally make him just a smidgen shorter than Sun by design, shhh) because sundrops leg slots and the actual part of the leg that's supposed to slot in ended up quite a bit out of alignment due to the leg shape lacking a taper at the top to allow for a rounder end. Sundrop's legs are just a little janky bc of it.

Picture 3 desc/info: this is a look at the inbetween stage that the hip piece goes through, and you'll find that it's not reinforced with wood anywhere simply because of the completely curved surface. There were attempts made with sundrop to do this but they proved to be way too hard to bother with and less than affective with just popsickle sticks. Hense I use cardboard from a soda can box(aka cardboard that's compact and can carry a heavy capacity if the design is balanced and re-attachment points are reinforced properly) and then have so far gone over certain points with paper and glue(using the papermache method) to base reinforce places and also provide more adhesable texture internally. Because, that round piece(also cardboard) is going to sit in the main juncture of the top of the hips. A hole will be cut into it to maintain the ability to string the limbs and body together, and it will be further reinforced further with paper and glue, and later covered in clay- along with the rest of the hips inside and out, thus entirely made smaller than intended to account for the eventual bulk up of the piece. This cover provides a supportive divot in the hips that the middle torso piece can sit in that will give it the range of movement intended but also aid it in allowing the body to sit up straight otherwise(something that was discovered to be needed when working on finetuning sundrop whilst test-stringing, adding yet more weight due to the fix having been made solidly out of clay. Probably provides more support to Sundrop this way, but Moon needs to be as light as possible to prevent stress cracks/damage/balance issues/ect. If I want him to be able to have a functional hook to be used to be displayed with.

On a less technical note, there isn't much to show in the skeleton stage for the middle torso piece bc it's just a hollow cylinder of cardboard, thin enough to escape the bulk, but wide enough to still be strung through. It's just a lil tube for Sundrops frame anyway lol. Though, tbf, I might bulk Moondrops middle with paper/cardboard/whatever I decide, for the, once again, lightweight intention. I use air dry clay but even still it do be solid af when dry and sealed lol

Off camera just inches out of shot of each picture is sundrop, whom has slowly become disrobed and carefully disassembled in places to give me size references for things, but also one of these updates I'll show you how I made his head/face/ ray settup- why? Because it broke. Cuz my dumbass should've used wire and not a wooden dowel to support it all. (Further more, I'm using it as an opportunity to eventually redo Suns rays, because when I did the first set, I went for accuracy in the ray count, but still wanted them to spin freely. But I realized I HATE the gap that's left anywhere if his rays arent perfectly positioned and honestly this mechanism breaking is my sign and chance to fix it now that the rays aren't locked in anymore lol.)

I've decided to give this progress update log the tag '#projectdcadoll' from now on, so any posts I make abt this in the future will have that tag!

And if anyone has any questions about any specifics of the project, I'll also answer them/respond to them under this tag, so please feel free to ask away! I'm excited to share this process with ya'll!

[chry5alis-05]

#ChenfordWriters

Our next writer is the wonderful @PurpleManiac

Share your love for them in the comments ❤️❤️

How long have you been watching The Rookie?

Since the premiere in 2018.

How can we follow you? Twitter:PurpleManiac2o

Favorite episode of The Rookie?

Do I have to name just one??? 1x20, 2x10/11, 4x07/22, 5x01/08/10&12

How long have you been writing Chenford Fanfic?

About 1.5 years. I wanted to fix some storylines in season 5 so I decided to make an AO3 account and get to it!

Favorite Chenford fic that you've written?

A Family for Christmas and my current WIP Legal Heat

Is there a trope you like writing best?

Love at first but playing hard to get

Fluff and a smidgen of angst

SMUT 🥵

Fun fact about your writing.

I love writing alternating POV in first person. Not many like that but I feel I can convey how a person is feeling in that moment better.

I write with my eyes closed while envisioning the scene I’m writing.

[cherubsdaily]

day 29. i call this one "caliborn RELATEABLE MOMENT!"

regarding the future of cherubsdaily below the cut

hi guys! its mac

yes i know its been. checks watch. just over half a year ive last posted. sorry theres a lot of things joyest and i have been up to. i dont know if she cares to continue this blog. ill ask her about it

personally ive been worken on an mspfa (dead hand dealt. go read it) and doing a daily blog on top of art for a wholeass webcomic ON TOP of school shit is just a smidgen unrealistic. i really want to keep doing this though soo...

cherubsdaily is back! ill do my best to do daily but yaknow it isnt for sure. the quality of the art on the other hand is absolutely, 100%, verifiably, guaranteed to be worse than before. thats right. no more effort. only spinning cubes from now on. ignore my previous statements thanks

seriously though im not going to be doing full on pieces as much (if at all). this account is for fun! and what's fun is drawing green skeleton monsters how i like and not planning posts ahead of time, fearing that they wont meet expectations and that my followers will chain me to a rock and have birds pick at my organs forever.

thank you all for supporting cherubsdaily! if this isnt for you anymore, thats fine, and i completely understand. if you do want to continue following, thats great! once again, i cant thank you all enough.

see yall tomorrow! (or the day after, or after that. who knows! :-P it surely wont be another half year or so)

[thepastisalreadywritten]

By Kate Andrews

Has Kate Middleton united America? For the past few days, we have been one nation under her spell.

The Princess of Wales has dominated Google searches in the United States ever since Kensington Palace released that now-notorious doctored photo of her with her children for Mother’s Day.

Her name search beat that of both ‘Donald Trump’ and ‘Joe Biden’ over the past week.

To say she has broken the internet would be only the start of it: rumours of her well-being are making their way into every newsroom, dive bar, and church fellowship hour across America.

My friends from all over the country text and call me to ask the same question: What’s happened to Kate?

They know I’m as removed from the royal family as anyone could be, but I’m in London and I work in Westminster, so they hope I’ve heard a theory that hasn’t made its way across the pond just yet.

Left-liberal pals who usually text me when Trump says something obscene now want to know when I last walked by Buckingham Palace.

Did anything seem strange? More right-leaning friends, who tend to send videos of Biden jumbling his words, want to know if it’s unusual in Britain to not wear your wedding ring.

Or did someone photoshop her ring out of the Mother’s Day photo, too? Is that even her hand in the picture?

I wonder if Kate knows she has achieved the impossible in bringing America together in this way.

I suppose that depends on where she’s been, how she’s been faring, and how much she’s checking the news – all questions that largely remain unanswered.

Either way, it’s an impressive feat and a wonderful service she has performed.

Sure, it would be nice if existential threats to the United States and its citizens were cause enough for us to find common ground. But I’m not going to be picky.

I will forever be grateful for this smidgen of evidence that, if the cause is compelling enough, America can pull itself back from the brink.

How did ‘Kate-gate’ go viral in a nation that isn’t even her own? The princess’s prolonged absence from public life has the right components to capture America’s imagination.

We are a country obsessed with The Crown and true crime. Since we rejected the British monarchy almost 250 years ago, we have rarely had the opportunity to combine the two.

The mystery of Kate’s movements and the online sleuthing required to discredit that photograph proved to be a golden moment.

But it’s the cover-up elements, which made the story stratospheric.

Like everything else in the States, conspiracy theories tend to be big – the more far-fetched, the more viral they go.

Trumpist QAnon talk has never appealed to non-partisan Instagram girlies, but speculation around a princess’s whereabouts make for perfect 20-part video series to add to your highlights reel.

That’s because Kate-gate is not your traditional conspiracy fare.

The big questions – what’s happened to Kate, where has she been – have not been whipped up from nothing.

Suspicion has been fed by a number of public-relations mishandlings from the Palace.

Stories have changed, a photo has been botched and is still being censored on social media.

This is particularly strange given the normal PR slickness of the Firm: a protective, ruthless operation that presidents and popstars envy.

Some of the rumours have taken absurd and dangerous turns. But it’s not only fantasists who have questions. Something seems to be happening; we just don’t know what.

We may never find out what Kate has been up to these past months. And perhaps we shouldn’t. Her medical issues aren’t our business, after all.

But we know what’s happened to her in the eyes of the public: Brand Kate has skyrocketed.

She and her family have become even more intriguing – the Prince and Princess of Wales’s Instagram and X accounts gained more than 200,000 followers combined in the days after the doctored photo was posted.

That intrigue has made the princess all the more sensational.

Kate is now a mega-celebrity. She has the kind of fame her sister-in-law craves so badly.

Markle’s tactic was to shout from the rooftops: to make herself and her point of view heard through every media platform and streaming service that showed any interest. It worked for a while.

Had a pandemic not scuppered her big moment, ‘Megxit’ would have been the story of 2020.

She and Harry still got to sit down with Oprah. Netflix charted their journey from the Palace to the Hollywood Hills. But attention quickly waned.

This week, the duchess finds herself doing what every fame-hustler must do in the fight for survival: launching a lifestyle brand.

Her Californian-inspired venture, called American Riviera Orchard, will be offering us fashion advice and gardening tips, along with another outlet selling artisan jams and yoga gear.

Yet as she pushes the cutlery and cookbooks, it’s absent Kate whose face is projected all over the world: a testament, if there ever was one, to the power of silence.

Given the long line of mess-ups from the Palace, this boost for Kate is a fairly good outcome.

The princess disappeared for a few months, and the world made its message clear: we simply can’t bear to be without her.

When she returns to public life, she will be more adored and loved than ever.

The rumours and theories will die down. The outpouring of support for the Princess of Wales will continue.

It seems likely that she will, as promised, resume public duty in the spring.

The future queen of England will return, radiant as ever, to stand next to her future king and her family, as if nothing ever happened.

We’ll watch on, always with the niggling feeling that there was something we weren’t told and that not knowing is the key to the charm.

As Walter Bagehot said:

‘We must not let in daylight upon magic’ – or photoshop, for that matter.

NOTE: Additional photos have been included in this article.

[achickennamedcheese]

Calling anyone who knows even a smidgen about Cult of the Lamb

SO- if you scroll down on my account for a bit, you can see that I made Sundrop x Narinder art, twice. And now that I made it I can't stop thinking about it and now I want to make it a DCA x COTL AU. BUT, while I've been making DCA AU's ever since FNAF security breach came out, I don't know jack shit about Cult Of The Lamb!!!

Like, I know a lamb got sacrificed, and then they made a deal with Narinder, and then they made a cult in Narinder's name, and Narinder is or is not some sort of eldritch god who later becomes one of your followers???

I've merged plenty of AU ideas before, but most of those DCA AU's were always original and never actually merged two fandoms together before. So I need your help. What's the Cult of the Lamb lore? How does the game work? How do weapons and enemies work? (Because yes Sundrop will be the cult leader so he will be fighting). How does the new sins update work? Why is Narinder in the cult? Why is the lamb the last person of their species? (according to art posts about the Sins of the Flesh update). I basically need the biggest, and I mean the BIGGEST rundown of the Cult of the Lamb game.

"Well why don't you just go to wikipedia?" Because I have all of Tumblr here and they've all personally played the game. It's just better and more accurate information.

"Well why don't you get the game?" Because my mother and father will be very concerned if I ask them to get me a game that involves being a cult leader, and yk, sex update.

Please and thank you Cult of the Lamb players.

[horizon-verizon]

AND THEYRE STILL FUCKING AFTER B&C LMAOOOOOOOOOOOO this show is such a joke 😭😭😭

(Seriously, Helaena holding her daughter in her arms and running into her mother’s room for comfort and help, just to find her fucking Cole is nasty work from the writers).

Actually, makes sense for them. They don't hold themselves accountable enough and instead push it all on Rhaenyra? Sounds like their MO. It is funny, bc it really exposes them as the hypocrites they are, when Criston should have been around to protect the active Queen consort and her kids instead of fucking the Queen dowager, but 🤷🏽‍♂️. And Alicent, as people have been saying lie w/cole, should have anticipated some sort of retribution like her book counterpart sorta did.

Which she justified for the sake of her son and downplayed Luke's murder as comeuppance for the ye lost as if these are two equal things...and agrees/gloms onto Otto's "boys will be boys and be rash" shit. It's at least consistent with the smidgen of character they have for her.

[ananxiousgenz]

Part 3 OF THE HADESTOWN FLASH FIC

for anyone who is actually reading these in order: they are not in any real kind of order. I am simply writing as the inspiration comes to me so the scenes are all over the fuckin place. also if this isn't as good as the prior parts, i apologize, i am eepy and my brain isnt working very well

@smidgen-of-hotboy and @ceaseless-watchers-special-girl psppsps come get your juice (@urjover and @one-joe-spoopy and @waters-and-the-wilde you guys can come read this too!!)

part 1 and 2 are on my account somewhere

the world straighted up and took notice the day peter nureyev walked into that bar.

well, maybe not the world.

but fate certainly did. and so did juno steel. and maybe that's close enough.

it was another day like they had all been in that eternal winter: windy, overcast, and grey, with a kind of chill that doesn't nip as much as sink its fangs into your bones and never let go. he'd come into the bar for the same reason everyone else had, juno assumed, trying to get out of the wind and cold and warm up a little. but there was no warmth to be found here. no true relief from the constant cold that had been the norm for years.

spring had disappeared. and the world had never really quite recovered from its loss.

juno wasn't discouraged, though. he knew there had to be a way to fix it, and then it came to him while he was stacking crates out behind the bar a few days ago. a simple song popped into his head, and when he sang it. oh, when he sang it. it was like spring with all of its warmth and goodness and chaos had come back into the world for just a moment. and then the moment was over, and juno left with the knowledge that maybe, just maybe, he could fix things. the song needed work, certainly, but even as it was, it could fix a lot.

not everything, but a lot. he knew deep down some things could simply never be fixed.

he was musing about how to continue the song while wiping down one of the bar tables that seemed to be perpetually sticky with old beer and fading finish when the door creaked open, announcing a new customer. the work never stopped here, did it? no matter, he'd get to them in a minute when he was finished with this table and then he'd-

oh.

he glanced up at the new customer and suddenly found himself rooted to the spot, heart pounding and face flushed.

he was.... he was.........

wow.

this new customer was quite possibly the most stunning man juno had ever seen. his hair was mussed from the wind outside and his face was flushed with cold. standing tall and lean in an oversized traveling coat, features sharp and clever as he spoke with juno's coworker at the bar. a streak of dirt rested on his cheek just below his wire rimmed glasses as he wriggled his warm leather gloves off.

he was clearly tired. everyone was. hard times do that to a people. but this man wore the exhaustion like a fine diamond bracelet, made for him in a way that complimented his countenance perfectly.

he was beautiful.

and that made him dangerous.

not that juno cared. he was quite fond of danger.

the man finally sat down at a table and sighed deeply, propping his head up on his hand as he waited for the drink he ordered. juno simply kept staring. he wasn't quite sure what to do next outside of stare. a thousand words were flooding his brain and all of them were stuck in his throat.

rita, his coworker, noticed. "you really wanna talk to him, dontcha boss?"

juno could only nod. dammit, why couldn't he say anything??

"then go DO it, boss!! whataya waitin' for?"

he opened his mouth to make some snappy remark, but nothing came out, so he just closed his mouth and nodded.

"oh, and mista steel?"

"yes, rita?"

"don't come on too strong, okay? I know you get a little excited about meetin' pretty people sometimes-"

"oh gods, rita, that was one time!!"

"well, it still cost lil old rita about a week's wages to replace the whiskey bottles you shattered from bein' so clumsy, so don't do it again!"

juno rolled his eyes and grabbed the stranger's drink to set down on his table. it was only a few steps to move, but somehow it felt like crossing mountains and rivers. juno's hands were shaking by the time he finally reached the man's side.

"ah, thank you, darling."

gods. even his voice was stunning. low and even and smooth as glass.

juno didn't even realize he was staring again until the man looked at him, slight concern etched onto his features. "are you alright? do you need something from me? I'm quite sure I paid at the bar but if you're looking for a tip-"

"come home with me." the words were out of juno's mouth before he could even think about them.

the man's eyebrows shot up and juno felt his face redden. he was quiet for a moment before responding. "you want me to go home with you?"

"yes."

"i don't even know who you are."

"i'm juno. i'm going to marry you."

there was another pause and internally, juno cringed. the one chance he gets to talk to someone attractive and he can't even act like a normal human being. of course it would be like this.

the man studied him for a moment before leaning back towards the bar to look at rita, who had been studying this interaction with all the curiosity of a child watching rabbits in the forest. "is he always like this?"

rita nodded vigorously. "absolutely, mista stranger-guy."

the man nodded thoughtfully before turning back to face juno. "i'm peter. peter nureyev."

[the-unspeakable-tsar]

Kidnapping The Grunk

In 2018, I was 17. I wrote a Gravity Falls/Rick and Morty crossover fic called "Kiddnapping The Grunk". I'm 23 now, and I was looking at my ao3 account, and I saw it. So, I decided to rewrite the fic. The original person who wanted me to write the fic no longer exists on Tumblr. But here's the new version in its entirety.

Stan’s eyes opened up into complete darkness. He started to move but found his limbs stiff and wrapped in something. He was stuck and started thrashing around. He’d gotten it into his head that he was twisted up in his bedsheets again and started screaming.

“Oh god! Soos! Get the jaws of life! Get some snips or somethin’! I’m stuck!” he shouted.

“Nobody’s gonna help you out here, ole man,” said a strange voice from the dark.

“Who’s that?” said Stan. His tone was not so much panicked but annoyed. “Robbie Valentino, this better not be some stupid prank. I’m not playing around with you and Wendy’s games anymore!”

A new voice chimed in, making robotic tutting, “Nah, you don’t get it do ya?” We’re holding your ass for ransom.”

“Ransom?” said Stan. He considered the thought for a moment. “If you cut me in on this, I can get my brother to fork over some more cash. I know he’s good for it.”

“Shut the fuck up!” shouted the first voice. “If your scrawny boy toy doesn’t deliver the Smidgens we want, we’re going to slit your Cromdamned throat!”

“Boy toy? What the heck are you talking about?” he asked and received a smack across the face for it.

Everyone who surrounded him began to laugh as Stan’s head spun.

“Don’t play dumb,” he said. “You were rolling heavy with Rick Sanchez in this part of the galaxy for ten years. Suppose your spastic lust pet doesn’t show up; we’re going to cut your head off and bury you somewhere like a vampire.”

“Who?” asked Stan.

---

A large green portal opened up into a land covered in prone grease grease-slicked grandmothers. Two aged scientists stepped out and into the town. The residents of the town looked at them with fascination. Stanford Pines looked down at his tracker pad, which pinged with a map of this area and the little tracker.

“I cannot believe that my brother has gotten wrapped up in your nonsense, Sanchez,” he said. 

“Better believe it,” said Rick Sanchez, punctuating his brief statement with a burp. 

“You’re lucky I didn’t kill you myself. What are they? Flansians? Predators? The Tall Whites?” asked Stanford, rapidly firing his questions at Rick.

“Beats the hell out of me,” said Rick. “If they’re after me through, Stan I’ll take care of them. Don’t worry your prissy little head about it.” 

Rick reached over and started tussling Stanford’s hair drunkenly, only for Ford to take his hand away. “None of that!”

“You can’t still be angry because I didn’t call you after our night of passion in the Hamburger Fields,” he said. Dismissing him.

“I can be, and I am!” he shouted.

“Oh blah, blah, blah! BLIGHITY BLAH!” shouted Rick. “Stan’s a better man than you anyways. He knows how to make a man feel appreciated. Y’know?” 

Rick then feigned ecstatic moans, “Ohh Stanley, yeah, yeah, yeah, right therreee!” 

“That’s lewd,” growled Stanford. His face flushed a deep red.

“You would know,” said Rick. “I recall you getting very into me sucking on your fingers.” 

“Nope,” Stanford walked forward. Stomping as he went. “Not listening. Just help me find my brother.”

Rick made a dismissive noise. “Bleh…fine….So, does he ever talk about me?” 

“Hmm?” began Stanford. “No, never.” 

“C’mon, i’m being serious right now. He must, right?’ asked Rick.

“Nope. Up until we got the note, I didn’t even know you two were acquainted,” said Stanford.

“What? We spent nearly a decade together, fucking and savaging around the country,” said Rick. “He must remember me.” 

“Well,” said Ford apprehensively. “There’s a chance that he genuinely doesn’t remember.” 

“Oh god, has he been hit with Alzheimer's?” said Rick, feeling his age.

“The truth is more…odd,” Said Ford. “Do you remember when i talked about Weirdmageddon?” 

“Dumb name, yes.”

“Ignoring that…To destroy Bill, Stanley allowed him to invade his mind…Then we erased it,” said Ford.

“You sick son of a bitch!” growled Rick.

“Oh, grow the hell up, Sanchez. I heard about how you regularly erase your grandson’s memories over minor mistakes on your end,” said Ford.

“How did you hear about that?” asked Rick.

“Summer and Wendy are friends on Tumblr,” said Ford.

“Goddamn, Summer,” whispered Rick under his breath. But then Rick smiled, “Hot Damn, Fordy baby, you’ve just given me a chance at this bullshit thing called love!” 

Rick pushed Ford over, and the old man fell on his ass. They opened up a portal that entered them into a dimension filled with bright blue slime bags, and they bounced off of them, weaving between each other as they fell. Rick blessed another portal into the wall of the dimension and it led into the back room of a bar.

Surrounding Stan’s tied-up form were impossibly tall robots and short dwarven aliens with big fly eyes. They all pulled their guns and started firing at the pair. They ducked behind pillars and exchanged looks. Ford looked ready to kill Rick.

“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND!” he shouted.

“Relax,” Rick stepped in front of the scene.

His body was quickly riddled with plasma fire. The bolts of liquid energy passed through his scrawny form like butter, but he kept stepping forward. The aliens screamed at him in their native tongues—horrid insect chirping. Rick’s left arm unfolded, forming a kind of gun made of green semi-metal and flesh. The flesh gun sprayed the aliens with a horrible mist that caused their skin to erupt in horrible sizzling boils and caused the metal skin of the robots to erode rapidly.

“Come to me, everybody!” he shouted. “Look at me go! Your gods might not be real, but I’m sending you to him all the same!”

Ford stood behind the pillar, picking off stragglers with his pistol and resenting every word that fell out of Rick Sanchez’ stupid head. He didn’t have to do all of this. They could have just killed them; they didn’t have to cook alive inside their bodies.

Once this mad violence was over, Stanford dashed over to Stanley and tore the bag off his head; his brother winced at the light.

“It’s okay, Stanley, you’re going to be alright,” said Ford as he began to undo the binds.

Rick turned and flashed Stanley a look. He thought it was sexy, with is hip cocked to the side and the bulge in his pants prominently displayed. 

“Hey, hot stuff,” said Rick. “I’m Rick Sanchez, and I’m the rescue committee.”  

“Yeah,” said Stan. “I know who you are.”

Suddenly, Rick froze. Shit, he remembers all the scumbag shit I did.

Once up, Stan strode across the room and pushed Rick up against the wall, forcing his tongue into his mouth and dry-humping him against the wall. Ford stood by, irritated that it built up to this. He turned his head so he didn’t have to see the image of the two.

“You scrawny son of a bitch,” said Stan. “You made me remember that I missed you.”

[sailtomarina]

They think we're in love

The incident started with whispers.

Whispers of curiosity, whispers of jealousy, whispers of hope.

“Do you think they’re together?”

“There’s no way they aren’t shagging.”

“Hate is just the flip side of love.”

Hermione slid her eyes towards her coworker, barely stifling the upward curl of her lips as the stares and murmurs continued. He flicked an amused glance back, the soft weight of his palm coming to a rest at the small of her back, ushering her forward in line.

“How much longer do you want to keep this up?”

She could barely hear his question over the noise in the atrium where they waited to order their afternoon pick-me-up. The heat of his touch permeated the back of her sweater in pleasurable waves.

“I don’t mind having fun for just a bit longer.” She didn’t want their charade to stop. 

“I’m pretty sure they think we’re in love.”

‘They’ in this instance didn’t refer to the gossip surrounding them, but to their would-be partners, family members, and friends.

“Then we make sure they know it and give up on us.” The words had barely left her mouth before she twisted around to face him, winding one hand into his platinum locks, the other pressed firmly against his chest, fingers twisting at the buttons.

Draco’s eyes widened at her proximity even as his face naturally lowered towards hers. They hadn’t kissed in all their weeks of pretending, sticking to suggestive touches and joint appearances. The dark spice of her perfume grabbed at him now, usually only a hint at an appropriate distance.

She hesitated a hair’s breadth away, eyes seeking permission.

He gave it to her, closing the sliver of space between them and drinking her in for the first time. This kiss, or this pretend kiss, whatever it was, had none of the awkwardness of so many other kisses, first or otherwise. Heads tilted just so, lips parted, tastes were taken in languid ease, every part as real as the arms winding around her back or the nails scraping the back of his head. 

Draco was drowning in a sea of Hermione, inhaling deeply in need of air but finding only more silken heat and pressure he now desperately craved. The ambrosia surrounded and filled him, buoying him to heights from which he never wanted to fall.

“Sir? Miss?”

The timid call of attention dragged them out of the vortex, and they turned as a unit to stare at the barista twisting nervously at the towel tucked into his apron. Draco turned back to the lips he wished he had never left, expecting her face to be flush with embarrassment. Instead, her swollen lips had turned up into a glittering smile that did not meet her eyes.

“Taylor?”

“Yes, miss?”

“If you plan to continue working here for the foreseeable future, it would be in your best interest to know when and when not to interrupt your customers. Seeing us preoccupied, you could have called forward the customer behind us. Instead, you chose to pull me out of the best snog of my life and I am half tempted to vanish your entire cart and go find my beverage from someone with even a smidgen more awareness.”

Draco agreed with her, but also took pity on the trembling man. “Love, you know Taylor makes your drinks exactly the way you crave. We shouldn’t have gotten in line if we were going to hold everyone up the way we are.”

Salazar, even the way her brow furrowed and eyes sparked was adorable. She’d light him on fire for such thoughts. He tightened his hold on her when she tried to pull away, never removing his eyes from hers as he continued speaking, “We’ll have our usual along with our apologies. You can charge them both to my account.”

Taylor breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. And I am sorry, Miss Granger. One small flat white and one large dirty chai coming right up.”

“Malfoy—”

Draco cut her off with a swift tug to the side to allow the next person in line to move forward. He kept his voice low in her ear, continuing to hug her close. “This isn’t really the place for it, but I’m honestly tired of playing.”

She blanched at the confession. Hermione had thought their kiss was the sign of something more, something worth pursuing. She sure as hell knew she’d never felt that way before and instinct told her such discoveries were rare. His confession meant her feelings were one-sided, and the realization was unbearable.

“I…I…” For all she had ripped poor Taylor apart, now her words failed her like they almost never did.

“I want the real thing.”

It was as if they were under water again, the five simple words echoing through her mind distorted and in slow motion. I want the real thing. The real thing. Real.

“What do you want?” he asked.

Hermione shuddered at the heat of his breath ghosting her neck. She repeated his question to herself. What did she want?

“I..want…”

What happened next was both unsurprising given earlier threats and completely shocking.

“Malfoy! Granger!” Taylor called out their names sharply as he slid their drinks onto the takeout counter.

Seeing the look on her face, Draco tried to stop the impossible. “Wait, Granger, the drinks—” His arms dropped and he reached for the cups in vain.

One moment, the cart was there. The next, it was gone, leaving only a bewildered barista and an atrium of caffeine-deprived Ministry employees. Hermione breathed heavily with her wand brandished in a stance that would picture beautifully in the report to follow. Her curls waved uncontrollably around her shoulders in clear agitation. The image also perfectly captured Draco at her side, frozen mid-reach towards emptiness.

Nobody doubted their love anymore, even if their impulsive kiss was overshadowed by what became known as the Granger Coffee Incident. Future drinks from the atrium were purchased solely by Draco, who earned himself back into Taylor’s good graces with a complete upgrade of the previous cart, complete with updated tables and seating. The older man, however, did not lift the two-year order ban placed on Hermione Granger.

WC 1038 I wrote this over the course of two days, losing steam at the end of each session. I’m still not quite happy with the ending, but it’s time to move on!