#round 3.7

[polish-art-tournament]

round 3.7 poll 1

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Noc gwiaździsta (Starry night), 1888:

no propaganda has been submitted

Czwórka (Four-in-hand), 1881:

propaganda: wyjebutnie mocna ta perspektywa. zaraz cię rozjadą. JEST MOC [this perspective is so fucking powerful. they are gonna run you over. BEHOLD THEIR MIGHT]

[mechs-track-tournament]

Round 3.7.2

[lmchaptertitlebracket]

Round 2, Matchup 79: III.vii vs IV.i.6

[stew-chan]

despair balatro edition :'(

[exandriacityshowdown]

Round 3 Poll 7

Zephrah, Tal'Dorei: Zephrah is the home of the Air Ashari. It is situated in western Tal’Dorei. It is the hometown of Keyleth of Vox Machina, and Orym of Bells Hells. Both parties have spent time there during their adventures.

image from tal'dorei campaign setting reborn / link

Niirdal-Poc, Tal'Dorei: Niirdal-Poc is a hidden city in the Rifenmist Jungle. Its existence is secret and it is said to be very old. It is ruled by the Qoniira Tetrarchy. Fy’ra Rai of the Crown Keepers lived here for some time, and she brought the party to the city.

image is fanart by eldritchblep, permission given to use here

[depresseddepot]

I hate the US grading system !!!

[siddyyyyyyyy]

You're Only Sixteen

wc: 3.7 K

summary: child soldier joins taskforce 141 part FIVE; one, two, three, four ; six

warnings: discussion of child soldiers, discussion of character death

a/n: I have nothing to say, enjoy

Training hall, 7:32, one day before the mission

»C‘mon, focus.«

Ghost taunts you as he is sparring with you, having been at it for probably a few minutes after going out for a morning run. After that glorious nightmare that was indeed a flashback, you have been more focused than anything today. But Ghost doesn‘t care, he really wants to push your limits today and see how much more you can actually endure. And he is really sure you can handle more than you‘re letting on. He saw you take out a man twice your size with a simple fire extinguisher.

Obviously, his words do little to provoke you, but his punches sure do. The sheer amount of sass this man has during sparring sessions is always something you admire about him. With another hard hit against your side, you feel your adrenaline rise before your attacks start to become stronger, finally making him sweat. You‘re not sure why you‘re holding back on him, since back at your camp, you always made sure to be stronger and even meaner in fights, but you also know your camp was abusive, in some way or another. Ghost is quick too, however, and counters your attacks back, putting more force in his hits too.

Finally, the match is more rough between you two, making Ghost struggle to keep up with your movements. It is not clear who is winning the round before you kick his side quickly with more force, making him gasp and launch at you. Before he could actually attack you, you duck and aim for his abdominal area, finally making him stumble. But you don‘t stop there, encouraging him to fall. He does, eventually but not without letting out a curse so bad that you thought he was actually mad at you.

But no, he is far from mad at you. Actually feeling some kind of pride that you actually beat him. Even Soap has a hard time winning against Ghost, but he is also used to the competitive fights between him and Gaz. You help him stand back on his feet, and he gives you detailed critique. Well, he is mostly complaining about the way you‘ve been holding back until now.

»Seriously, you need to stop pretending I‘m fragile. I can take your hits. And I‘ve seen you take down men before. You can do better than that; just don‘t think too much.«

You give him a brief nod back, feeling somewhat lighter. Maybe today‘s morning training is making you finally take your mind off the things that are currently plaguing your mind.

You both start another round of training, having the freedom of taking out of frustration on Ghost, beating him a second time. You believe he is just going easy on you, but the way he pants while he gets up from the mat says otherwise.

Eventually, after some more rounds, in which you both win equal amounts of time, Ghost thinks you‘re ready for the mission, and it‘s time to go to the last official meeting before preparing for the deployment.

Arriving there, you see Laswell and Price already standing by the table, noticing you two enter as well. It seemed like they were talking about something, the room falling silent briefly.

»Still in for the task?«

Price questions you, his tone neutral but his expression having a serious hint in it. You give him a short nod, answering as the day before. Meanwhile, the rest of the team enters the briefing room and settles on standing around the table as usual. Laswell doesn‘t waste any time on getting to the point, starting the small PowerPoint and explaining the steps of the mission even clearer than last time.

The plan changed up slightly, changing up the positions mostly.

»You‘re still paired with Farah. But you will be taking care of the guards outside and keeping watch on the building. After that‘s done, you‘ll be joining the rest inside the building. Since you have the most knowledge about the camp, it will be your responsibility to lead the safest way into the director‘s room.«

The small changeup seems to be quite simple, understanding the task. Instead of ensuring the safety of the children, you will now help them get the so-called bad guys. Or your past superiors and boss. But it‘s better than having to escort your past rival, having dreaded the thought of possibly seeing him again. Laswell looks away from you, focussing her eyes on the slide of the PowerPoint that‘s projected on the whiteboard, continuing with the mission plan.

»Farah has enough men to safely escort the children away, leaving us a clear view of the task at hand.«

She glances back at you, her expression still as dead-serious as the day before.

»Your call sign from now on is ‘Bane‘.«

Soap grins lightly at the call sign, looking your way. Gaz does the same, glancing to you briefly. He only gives you a solid nod, but Soap even gives you a thumbs up. It‘s clear they both seem to want to hype you up in a subtle manner. Ghost, however, only gets the simple message behind the call sign; seeing the first mission together had left a big impression.

The briefing goes on, with Laswell mostly leading the meeting as the rest listens, only sometimes interjecting or asking questions. You stay quiet though, just letting the whole plan go over in your head several times and also getting used to your call sign.

Maybe you worry too much because you feel the muscles around your arms start to hurt lightly. It‘s not a sharp pain but more of a dull, throbbing pain around your forearms that makes you feel uncomfortable overall. No matter what, though, you stay still and calm during the briefing until you can finally leave for lunch and have a small break. The muscle ache subsides slowly as you make your way to the mess hall with Gaz and Soap, getting your food trays, and sitting down at your usual table. Finally, the ache seems to fully go away, letting you eat in peace. Of course that familiar ache was a thing even before joining this team. Due to being exposed to high stress situations at a young age, it must be your body‘s way of showing you stress since you mainly go through the stress and do anything to complete a mission.

Ghost passes by your table and sets the capri sun down on it, leaning his hands on the table as he looks at the rest.

»She beat me four times at sparring today.«

No one would have expected it, but Soap was the first one to process his words and drop his fork into his plate.

»You broke my record!«

He looks to you with a betrayed look, crossing his arms in a pouty way as he stares at you with his mouth wide open.

»Soap‘s havin‘ beef with a teenager now.« Gaz mumbles amused while he watches his teammate‘s reaction, only hurting his ego even more.

»I‘m not!« Soap glares at his teammate before looking back towards you, »In a matter of a few days, righ‘?«

You don‘t get what he is asking for a moment before you glance at Ghost, unsure of what to say. You beat Ghost four times today. Not four times in a year.

The lack of response makes Soap groan and hit his head on the table in a dramatic way. He could‘ve answered his own question, considering you are there for almost two weeks by now, and you have only been training with Ghost for today.

Ghost feels visibly smug and wanders off to his office, probably eating alone once again. The table isn‘t silent for too long as Gaz continues to tease him for getting his record broken by you, munching on the food while discussing this childish topic. In Soap‘s mentality, there is no such thing as ‚childish‘, because as long as it makes you happy or gives you a purpose in life, it doesn‘t matter if people find it funny or not.

Eventually, you finish your meal with the rest, starting on the capri sun now, as you walk out of the mess hall. Soap excuses himself to join Ghost in his office and bicker about his broken record, leaving you alone with Gaz, or ‚Kyle‘, for you, as he tells you to call him now. He suggests a walk around the park again, easily agreeing to such a request.

You start walking beside each other, the conversation starting off with him asking you something out of concern.

»Nervous for the mission? It‘s a pretty big one.«

»It should be fine. I‘m used to high-pressure operations.«

Kyle can‘t help but feel his heart break every time you say something mature like that. A literal teenager shouldn‘t be feeling like this. Getting a big responsibility thrown in their way, having to act tough and not be allowed to feel fear or back down, constantly needing to keep up your fitness and strength… it‘s too much, and he really wonders if you are actually so strong and capable, or if you are good at pretending.

Maybe he is worrying too much, but he knows he was busy trying to beat his friends at ‚Need for Speed‘ and ‚Mortal Kombat‘ in high school instead of worrying about things like you are right now.

»Are you though? It must be a lot, raiding your old camp and arresting your old superiors. There‘s a lot to process.«

He didn‘t mean to pressure you even more or get you into some sort of stressful situation, but you started to get defensive.

»I am used to this. There is nothing new about this, and...« You pause, trying to figure out how to say this and also not cringe at yourself, »I have a team now.«

Kyle raises his eyebrow lightly at that, not able to hide his light surprise. He doesn‘t know the system you had back there, really only Ghost being the lucky – or rather unlucky one – to know about the unusal system. And you are sure that Kyle would be even more devastated if he heard about those. A brief moment of silence goes by before he speaks up again.

»You trust us a lot, don‘t you?« His voice becoming more solemn. You give him a brief nod back, not daring to look into his eyes. He sees it as the best positive response he‘ll ever receive from you and just walks beside you quietly.

The conversation turns into something more light afterwards, getting to joke around a little bit with him as he mostly explains you what vines are and tells you some of the more popular memes, which you find rather absurd but funny.

The rest of the day went by relaxed. Or as relaxed as possible, since you still sometimes got a muscle ache and there wasn‘t any official training or meeting until the flight, leaving you some time to fully set into the new mission and get ready.

You keep checking for the small Polaroid in your bag; paranoid that it will vanish into thin air, but it doesn‘t.

Flight, 4:00

The flight came by quicker than you wanted it to be. Even though you want to get your revenge on every single one who wronged you, you can‘t help but feel wrought up about it.

But you don‘t have time to think about it now as you‘re getting into the helicopter with the others, being too tired to give a fuck about any of your worries anyway. Once you got all the essentials into the vehicle, you took a seat and put the headset on. Nikolai‘s chirp voice comes through, greeting everyone again.

»Ah, good mornin‘ guys! Ready to kick some ass?«

Kyle snorts beside you as he hears the motivated voice from the pilot, shaking his head lightly.

»Always. Drive already.«

Price responds as he makes it comfortable on the seat in front of you, looking towards the cockpit where Nikolai is just doing some final check-ups.

»It‘s flying, Captain. Flying.« Nik quips back, a little disappointed by the lack of enthusiasm from the team, eventually starting to fly to Urzikstan. You wonder how the pilot can be so cheerful most of the time, it being literally four in the morning, and you are about to fly for approximately eight hours. He must intake some serious drugs before every flight, because you‘ve never seen such a happy Russian man before.

Speaking of the devil, he calls you over to the cockpit, and you wonder what he might possibly want from you now. You step into the cockpit, standing behind him as he flies, glancing to you. He motions for you to take your headset off, wanting to speak privately.

»I didn‘t tell anyone, but I built a sound box in here. You listen to music? You can choose here, just play whatever you like.«

Meanwhile, the rest of the team discusses something among themselves, not paying much attention to your conversation with Nik.

And, of course, you know a thing or two about music. Well, you do have a favourite band since the camp played most of their music in the gym.

You look towards the device he shoves into your hands, having a bit of trouble understanding the mechanics of it, but you figure it out quite quickly. The first tones go off in the helicopter, making you flinch lightly. Nikolai nods along to the music for a moment, smiling satisfied and glad you didn‘t put on Taylor Swift.

»Nik?« You quickly give the device back to the man as you hear Price approach you both, playing as neutrally as possible. But the pilot doesn‘t even spare so much of a glance to the captain, seemingly too focused on controlling the helicopter.

»Why is Papa Roach playing at full volume?«

Price questions, looking to Nik and then to you. His expression seems more confused than annoyed, not having expected some music on the flight. But he seems to piece it together fairly quickly with how quiet you are and that you happen to just stand innocently by him.

»Bloody hell...« He sighs out softly and leaves you two be, returning back to the rest.

The rest of the flight consists of you talking to Nikolai, him mostly rambling about the helicopter you are both in and talking about some more mechanics and other planes and jets he once got to fly with. At the same time, the music plays in the background, realising mid-fly that he also installed some serious bass subwoofers within the sound boxes. The playlist seems to change, as you hear some unfamiliar songs that seem to be the stuff he usually enjoys. You ask him about it, feeling like he is the most easy and fun to talk to by far. Beside Kyle.

»Oh, that‘s my favourite band, Slaughter To Previal! I‘ve seen them live last summer in Moscow… Their show was something else. Do you like them so far?«

You take a small moment to answer, actually finding it rather strange and also a little too much. But you certainly respect his passion for this specific band. It seems like they are singing in Russian too.

»It‘s definitely energetic. And loud.«

Nik barks a laugh at your answer, understanding it might be something new and strange for you, considering you mostly know something about the nu-metal band ‚Papa Roach‘.

The last four hours of the flight go by with some occasional naps against Soap‘s shoulder and listening to the conversations the others have.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you are back in Urzikstan. The very same country you spent most of your life in. Where you wished to never return.

But this is about getting a mission done. The most important mission you‘ve ever had, probably.

Nik lands in a big landing field near a smaller base, the surroundings being familiar to you. The scenery is mostly bland, the sun being out by now, and the base being located in the middle of a desert. As you walk out, the hot sun surprises you, making your shield you eyes with your hand from it.

There are already some extra people that help with the baggage and all the equipment you brought for the mission. You stand by the others, making sure not to get lost, and stay by Kyle‘s side, seeing him stretch his back from the long flight.

Two people approach your small group, seemingly apart of the operation and base, the same people who will help with your task just tomorrow.

»Good morning, old man. I heard you have a new addition?«

Farah greets Price, making you finally look to her and to the man beside her. Kyle goes in for a hug with the man who introduces himself as Alex Keller to you, seeming like a decent dude.

Price goes to introduce you to them but gets cut off by Farah.

»No, I know her. How‘s your arm?«

Even you are surprised by her directness, and the team seems to be even more surprised. Gaz is the first one to actually speak up about the initial surprise, gesturing between the two of you.

»You… know ‘er?«

The air seems to tense for a moment before Farah nods and explains finally, seeing that you are still not a talkative one.

»We met three years ago, during a raid. I‘m glad she‘s with you now.«

After that brief explanation, it seems like some were still confused at the absurdity of you both knowing each other, but no one will press any further for now.

With some more words between the team and Farah, you walk into their base and get back to discussing the mission. Everyone seems to know their task pretty well, but there are still speculations about the operation and camp. What is actually their motive behind it? Why do they even need child soldiers?

»From the information we received from the warehouse, we could only determine where the building is and who it belongs to. We also got a list with all the children inside; they have full files of each of them.«

Price explains as Farah listens, the second in command, Alex standing beside her.

»Bane has most of the intel from all of us, which is why I think she is essential for the mission.«

Farah‘s eyes are mostly on you, studying the way you stick by Ghost‘s side during the brief and seem to be focused on the task as well. You‘ve clearly grown quite a bit during those three years of not seeing each other, but she can still see the scared and rageful thirteen-year-old she once almost took out.

»And this is why she will stick with us after clearing the guards outside. Farah, you still have enough men to escort the children, right?«

Finally, she tears her eyes away from you and nods, getting back to fully focus on the briefing again. The air is serious but not tense. Again, something you are not used to at briefings, even after having been in several one‘s with your team.

Once some more information and planning has been done, checking afterwards if everything is working right, it gets back to preparing more. But before you could join your team in preparing your equipment, Farah gets ahead of you and speaks up. She stands by your side, leading you more towards the exit to speak more privately.

»Seriously, how‘s your arm? I stabbed it really back then.«

She questions with more concern in her features this time, looking at you while walking outside and abandoning the rest.

»It‘s fine, you don‘t need to worry about it. Just got a bit of a scar.«

You dismiss quickly, feeling really glad you are wearing long sleeves today, even though you knew it‘s pretty warm in this country.

»Well… I‘m glad you got into better hands. Your decision?«

She asks again, this time being more light, but not without a hint of seriousness and genuine curiousness.

»Got sent to them because I was starting to lack.«

»Why were you getting worse?«

You really dreaded that question, and there is no way you will be able to answer that without at least your voice breaking. The conversation pauses for a moment before Farah sighs out, realisation setting in.

»I‘m sorry for your loss… When did it happen?« Of course she would realise it that quick. After all, she tried to interrogate you after stabbing you before finding out you are actually still a child.

»Two years ago. Raid mission; I was first in command, but she insisted on entering first.«

You bit your inner cheek, focused on staying calm and not letting any emotions escape as you talk to her. Even when you have only met her two times, she grew on you quite a lot. She is definitely the reason why you kept going as well.

»It‘s like she knew… she - it should‘ve been me.«

Against your will, your voice breaks and apart of Farah breaks too, as you try to explain what really happened. She stops walking and embraces you into a hug, her arms wrapping gently around you with a strong intent to comfort you.

»Don‘t say that. Halime wouldn‘t want you to beat yourself over it. It‘s not your fault.«

She tells you gently as she rubs your back lightly, feeling how tense your shoulders are. Farah always saw a part of herself in you. She was, too, being thrown into a difficult situation as a young child and was forced to continue. However, she also had a brother to care about and also had some sort of company that way. Now, you are the one who has nothing left but your team and this life, in which you are still fighting to survive.

»You need the will to continue, and you have it. But most importantly, we are here for you, and we will make sure to help you through each step. Understood?«

Her voice became a little lighter at the end as she pulled away from the hug just enough to look at you.

You were caught off guard by her hug and comforting words, but you had an even stronger will and motivation to go on the mission with the rest and get it done nicely. Now it‘s time to gear up and make your way to the old camp that once made your life a living hell.

a/n: I actually love Slaughter to Previal, I've seen them live in January and my life changed. Had to really strain myself from not writing from my perspective as Nik was speaking lol. Some proof, lmao:

Hope you enjoyed it!

[bestanimal]

Round 3 - Mammalia - Tubulidentata

(Source)

There are many fossil species within the order Tubulidentata, but today one family, Orycteropodidae, one genus, Orycteropus, and one species, Orycteropus afer, remain. Orycteropus afer is commonly known as the “Aardvark.”

The aardvark is a medium-sized, burrowing, nocturnal afrotherian mammal. They have a long proboscis, vaguely similar to a pig's snout, which is used to sniff out food. Each toe bears a large, robust nail which is somewhat flattened and shovel-like, and appears to be intermediate between a claw and a hoof. They use their sharp claws and powerful legs to excavate burrows and to dig ants and termites out of their mounds. The aardvark then uses its long (up to 30 cm (12 in)) tongue to lick up the insects. The aardvark is pale yellowish-grey in colour and often stained reddish-brown by soil. They have tough skin and a coat of thin hairs. The hair surrounding their nostrils is dense to help filter out dirt as they dig. Aardvarks can run fast in a zigzag fashion to evade predators, making for the nearest burrow. If a burrow is too far away, it can quickly dig a new one. If all else fails, they will strike with their claws, tail and shoulders, sometimes flipping onto their backs lying motionless except to lash out with all four feet. They are capable of causing substantial damage to unprotected areas of an attacker. If attacked in a tunnel, it will escape by digging out of the tunnel thereby placing the fresh fill between it and its predator, or if it decides to fight it will roll onto its back, and attack with its claws. Aardvarks are typically around 105 and 130 centimetres (3.44–4.27 ft) long, and can reach lengths of 2.2 metres (7 ft 3 in) when its tail is taken into account. It is 60 cm (2 ft) tall at the shoulder, and has a girth of about 100 cm (3.3 ft). It typically weighs between 60 and 80 kilograms (130–180 lb). Aardvarks are found over much of the southern two-thirds of Africa, avoiding areas that are too rocky.

Aardvarks can live solitarily or in small family groups. They have polygamous breeding behavior. Males do not play a role in raising young, only staying with the female during the breeding season. After a gestation period of seven months, one cub weighing around 1.7–1.9 kilograms (3.7–4.2 lb) is born during May–July. The cub is able to leave the burrow to accompany its mother after only two weeks and eats termites at nine weeks, but is fully weaned between three months and 16 weeks. At six months of age, it is able to dig its own burrows, but it will often remain with the mother until the next mating season, and is sexually mature from approximately two years of age.

Orycteropodidae arose in Africa in the Early Miocene epoch, and spread to Eurasia later in the Miocene. Most of the family's diversity had become extinct by the end of the Pliocene. The genus Orycteropus is known from the Late Miocene, with Orycteropus afer itself arising in the Early Pliocene, and surviving into the modern day as the last representative of its lineage.

Propaganda under the cut:

While the aadvark eats mainly ants, especially the Common Pugnacious Ant (Anoplolepis custodiens), switching to termites in the Winter when ants are less common, there is one fruit the aardvark eats. This is the Aardvark Cucumber (Cucumis humifructus), which is reliant on the aadvark to eat the fruit in order to spread and re-bury the seeds of the plant. The time spent in the intestine of the aardvark helps the fertility of the seed, and aardvarks then bury their feces, so the seeds are only able to germinate with their assistance. In the meantime, aardvarks get much of their water intake from the cucumber. This plant may be the reason the aardvark is the only ant and termite-eating mammal that has retained functional cheek teeth.

Emerging from its burrow at sunset to begin a night of foraging, the aardvark will trek over a considerable home range encompassing 10 to 30 kilometres (6.2 to 18.6 mi), nose to the ground and ears forward, listening and smelling for ants and termites. They zig-zag as they forage and will usually not repeat a route for five to eight days as they appear to allow time for the insect nests to recover before feeding from them again.

The aardvark is known to be a good swimmer and has been witnessed successfully swimming in strong currents.

Aardvarks have one main burrow and several refuge burrows scattered throughout their territory. For safety, the aardvark will change the layout of its home burrow regularly, and periodically move out and make a new one. Old aardvark burrows are prime real estate for African wildlife, and are used by African Wild Dogs (Lycaon pictus), Ant-eating Chats (Myrmecocichla formicivora), Egyptian Slit-faced Bats (Nycteris thebaica), warthogs, hares, mongooses, hyenas, owls, pythons, and lizards. Without these refuges many animals would die during wildfire season.

Recent research suggests that aardvarks may be particularly vulnerable to alterations in temperature caused by climate change. Droughts negatively impact the availability of termites and ants, which comprise the bulk of the aardvark's diet. Nocturnal species faced with resource scarcity may increase their diurnal activity to spare the energy costs of staying warm at night, but this comes at the cost of withstanding high temperatures during the day. A study on aardvarks in the Kalahari Desert saw that five out of six aardvarks being studied perished following a drought. Aardvarks that survive droughts can take long periods of time to regain health and optimal thermoregulation, reducing the reproductive potential of the species.

The ancient Egyptian god Set, the god of the desert, storms, chaos, violence, and foreigners, is often depicted with the head of an unknown animal, called the “Set animal” by Egyptologists. The animal has a downward curving snout, long upward ears with squared-off ends, a thin, forked tail with sprouted fur tufts in an inverted arrow shape, and a slender canine body. One of the proposed animals that this could depict is the aardvark.

[satocidal]

𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ “Opposites Attract?!”— Gojo Satoru

Synopsis: the famous rich boy of the campus and the Dean’s daughter? Scandalous—especially when they’re both jealous as hell.

— A/n: Roughly based on something from my real life lmao— except that we didn’t get together because hehe. Also, this is the first part of a kinkmas fic that I have planned, it’s been broken since the fic was getting too long <3 (both can be read stand-alone!) Tagging @romiyaro @draecys @maeby-cursed because yes; nsfw version <3

— Word count: 5.7k

— warnings: Fem! Reader x Satoru Gojo; slightly suggestive Suguru and Mei Mei (they deserve to be warnings here); undertones if jealousy; a kiss (or three) at the end, I know—scandalous right; Reader wears spects in one scene; this has a LOT of bickering. Just banter for that matter, reader says smn about sex work BUT I assure you it’s not supposed to be in a negative light <333

4.5 g.p.a—a perfect reputation that you held, a decent social life—an amazing father to back you up, you weren’t ever part of the fraction of people who got in through with scholarships, why would you when your father stood as the dean? —but you’d worked for it.

3.7 g.p.a—it could’ve been far better, easily, if he only put himself in—far too loud a social life with a following of 4k+ on his Instagram while he only followed back his best friend and pretty little things (for a day or so)—part of the fraction who got paid in, who never struggled for it.

Sure, you hadn’t really struggled either—but hypocrisy was only allowed to one and you chose to take your chance.

You didn’t…despise him, the man that Gojo Satoru stood out to be, but lords, you hated the concept around it.

The loud cackle at the back of each lecture—the proxies and his fan girls, you hated it all.

More so, you hated just how enamored your dad was—after all, it was Gojo Satoru that had won the trophies and the plaques—Satoru Gojo that was a Power Player.

But the credit wasn’t to be forgotten for you too—dabbling in all that was academic, if the second half of your dad’s office as the dean were filled with Satoru’s achievements, the first half was yours.

Two sides of the same coin.

Your eyes never left your dad for a second, “you can’t possibly expect that out of Me dad,” the whine wasn’t subtle, nor the snicker that gojo let out at your words and outlet—earning a hard glare.

And to all the pampering and spoiling your father had to offer, it all failed when it came down to the pride and prestige of the university.

“It’s non-negotiable y/n,” the sleek brown in his room shone that afternoon, polished—every groove, every rounded corner—almost a story to behold.

“Yeah! Tell her Mr.Dean,” another snicker- another glare, your father sighed in his dismay.

“You,” your father glared at him, “need to find a way to shove it in your schedule as well—you’re both the elected representatives.”

To end with all whines and groans.

“I have no idea how but I need you two to find a presence of mind and perform your best in curating an experience at the fest. Dismissed.”

A sharp inhale, yours and the roll of Satoru’s eyes, your dad was aware how interesting an evening and a fest in general he would be witnessing.

You’d known Gojo Satoru for 3 years now, spending the last together at the University, standing as the President of Student Council—all against Gojo’s constant “nepotism” comments while he stood as the Captain of the Football Team—against your criticism as well.

A certain peak in the way you two governed your particular fields independently but, together?

Well.

Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t always that you both disliked each other but, you couldn’t exactly deny the certain distaste the day you’d set eyes on him…

-

~First Year~

“Dad, please, make sure that no one knows that you and I are, at all related,” a chuckle your father let out, “of course darling, but don’t get prissy when I don’t let you out with attendance matters and all,”

Another chuckle shared, nothing too serious.

“I’ve heard Gojo Satoru will be joining this year too?”

An innocent question, curious is all you were—anyone would be, one of the best the country had seen in years.

Your father nodded slowly, “just so happens to be true, stay in check though, don’t want messing with people like that,”

It was evident, the wary tone that your father had acquired over the years, dealing with all that was the ego of such students, who stood tall with the heap of money that belonged to their daddies.

A slow nod you passed too—your father smiled, you were a smart girl after all.

But fate was decided and what had to happen would happen for sure.

Because you swore to maintain the secret, you weren’t to be even found to have the slightest relation of blood with the Dean — but then whatever could you do when you step out blindly, bumping right into the guy you wanted not to.

A hiss and a curse—“the fuck? Watch where you’re going,” he mumbled-eyes boring into yours, and then simultaneously, at the car.

Anger that flashed down right—“watch your damn language,” unironically, you muttered—something he’d never let you live down.

“Woah there princess, what are you on? Some patrol duty round here-?” The smirk was infuriating, his disheveled hair all the more—especially when he continued messing it up all the more.

A scoff, yours—“Mind your own business,” a shove passed and an attempt to move away—“Y/n L/n?” He held your campus manual.

The certain way your name rolled off his tongue, it caught your attention—“ya dropped this,”

A smirk adored his face as he handed back to you the campus manual, of course it wasn’t anything you required but to solace your father, there you held it.

A cramped “Whatever,” you let out, snatching the booklet from his hands quick—wanting nothing more to do with the stranger that you’d bumped into.

Just as you walked away though, “L/n huh?” The words, his, that you knew would cause you issues.

-

“He’s Satoru Gojo?” Your surprise lay hidden under the music that boomed all too loud—watching closely the white haired boy you’d bumped into a couple days ago.

“Yeah? You didn’t know?” The grin on your now best friend, and then just-roommates-friend offered little help.

Of course you hadn’t, and now you wish you didn’t still.

It was true you’d spotted him all so much over the past few days, and the people that followed him and the rumors still—unaware to why and how.

But now, with all the pieces in your hand you wanted to hide away—especially when those blue eyes stared right back—with a grin he trampled over.

“Oi! L/n right? We met at the first day?”

You cringed at how loud he spoke—so very sure that absolutely everyone could hear him, all over the booming music.

A subtle nod you passed, trying to get away from the spotlight he’d casually thrown round you.

“Your dad’s the Dean right?”

Silence- literally, just as he said that, the music system paused too—you wanted to curse your luck.

Widened eyes—star-struck stares from all those adored Gojo, amused ones at you from everyone who bothered to think.

You’d have considered lying—unless Satoru Gojo hadn’t chosen to be a dick about it, “You guys have the same last names so I thought- and then, the other when we bumped into each other- remember?” He chuckled as a couple of girls let out audible gasps, envious that you had already touched him so.

Before opportunity even lay still, he continued, “so I thought, because frankly either you’re his daughter or…you know, mistress—but that I doubt,” you wanted to punch away the grin he held, the snicker and the secrets he dropped out like flies.

So while you stood there, waiting for the ostracism—Gojo only giggled, “Don’t worry though, you’re fine, got more of your mom’s genes right?”

Fuming, you stood there—red that masked your vision—“excuse you?” A brow remained cocked, Gojo’s facial expression never once changed—it was about to.

“You’re one to talk about dads huh? Your daddy donated in just about how much into your esteemed football team huh? To get you selected?”

Satoru wasn’t new to comments such, in fact that’s what he’d built his career over but just the way you said it—just the way your angry face stared back at him—he found you annoying, adorably so.

That night, Satoru’s fan following increased by a decent thousand or so, people became aware of you and maybe, you realized, being the Dean’s daughter wouldn’t be that bad a fact.

But all the more, Gojo and you formed a sudden bond still, dislike and nothing less masking the two of you whenever the other was mentioned.

A farce? Maybe—but you were easily, in too deep to stop now.

Often nights you spent, thinking how the two of you could be friends—but huge egos that clashed in, something told you it wouldn’t happen all so easily.

-

The following week and there on were interesting—you joked all week that you’d blocked Gojo, you never did.

Gojo swore he’d have you black-listed for being so audacious—he never did.

When the huge messaging group—meant to be dead in a day—was formed, you both ended up saving each other’s number discreetly, never to approach it again, at least for a while.

And that was just how it went on “he annoys me so much,” and “she annoys me so much,” but little by little, small steps in the dark—you both were each other’s biggest cheerleaders still- applauding each other louder than anybody else.

Hands clutching onto your notepad you continued jotting down the points—fingers working fast so as not to let a single bright thought escape you.

The event was huge—the University’s 150th Anniversary—perfect, grand, extravagant—to be organized partially, by you.

There was time, plenty—absolutely 1 months before the panic would settle in, 2 before it would be over.

But seconds were quick—hasty in the way they changed into minutes, hours to come and days passed by, never realized.

A finger raised to push your spects up the bridge of your nose—you sighed, eyes landing on the form in front of you—mouth ajar and his sunglasses fixated in his hair, another piece of candy tossed up high before he caught it in his mouth.

A frustrated sigh you let out—“can you please sit straight and help?”

His eyes bore into yours- cerulean, they were pretty, almost prettier than the whole of him, you hated it.

“Isn’t it your job?” A grin he passed, a clench of your jaw was all you could—“we’re in this together, don’t give me that bullshit,”

Another grin, “talk to me when you need booze,”

“You don’t even drink,” the words fell out your mouth all so quick, hesitant you looked at him—“how do you know?” It was an amused smirk that he held, it annoyed you how the man in front seemingly only talked in three supposed emotions.

A small break, “well, I uh- noticed through the parties,” it was true, you did notice through the parties—it was hard not to, since you didn’t drink—you couldn’t be all so sure about the rest.

“You notice me at parties? You notice me at all?” Urges inside you that had to be controlled, such a perfectly punchable face Satoru Gojo held—“help me work on this damn idea,” you mumbled, ignoring all of what he wanted to discuss.

A roll of his eye and yours—“not gonna do it so easily,”

A huff you let out.

Frustration at peak.

“Actually,” your voice was quieter than you expected it to be, “wouldn’t it be better if you were there to advise us? Me? You’ve been organizing parties for so long and,” your face turned towards him—smile never faltering at his disgusted expression—he knew what you were doing, he wasn’t new to sugar coating after all, “I would love learning from the best.”

Jaw clenched, hands sauntered over to the back of your chair—most would consider it an action of endearment, you knew better.

“I would beg to differ Ms. Daddy’s princess,” Your blood boiled at his ignorance—sure, he was Satoru Gojo—but nothing gave him the right to act superior when he stood at his father’s money itself.

Hell, all he was meant to be was just a batchmate, captain of a stupid team that barely mattered—you?

Sure, a well suited empire would never land on your back, nor a fortune as his until you’d worked half your life into it— but you were better, you knew it. Denial onto his privilege to negate the Authorities could’ve never been acceptable by you.

your eyes remained stuck onto the ground —defiant—“well, i suppose it would only be for the best,” stubborn you sat and so did he—stuck in between the thickening tension.

“The best,” his voice exasperated, “would be for someone like you to sit back down and do as you’re told.”

Mouth hanging just in the slightest, you dared not to meet his face—focusing on the little stains and creases you’d administered on your sneakers—eyes sneaking onto his pair, perfect, as expected.

“That’s a little rich, coming from you—”

“—and this is the best they’ve found? You? To help me huh?”

Bigoted. Nose flared, curses at the tip of your tongue and you could do nothing as he further scoffed, “getting a privileged bitch to do my job, now they know my worth huh?”

“Excuse you?” Shaky, you sat—words spilling out before you could stop it—“your worth? Absolutely as nothing, but a spoiled man-baby who cannot deal with things maturely?”

Confusion marked his face—of course he would be, all so blind to the simple generosity that gets offered to him—all so he can kick a ball.

“The event is in 2 months sir,” address regained to the topic, you spoke flatly, “I would well appreciate that you helped us in the organization of said fest—if not, well, it would be a sheer pity that the entire football team would have to suffer,”

And there lay your ultimatum, naked and threatening—and he knew it was all but empty.

“L/n,” Gojo coughed—not quite sure, uneasy evidently, with the tension that hung lose in the atmosphere—“You maybe influential in your own ways on the campus but-”

“-but I’m just a student here, as you are,” you looked directly at Gojo now, “And to adhere to rules is the basic of most authoritative environments. So I suppose, you’ll be all the more pliant in helping us plan the fest and encouraging our juniors to help us out.”

Defiant—squinted eyes of Gojo simply stared blankly—“Alright,” he muttered.

“If help is what you want, that’s what you’ll get.”

And the deal was settled—to your compromise and his.

-

A week had passed since—the discomfort only grew.

“What the fuck? You’re speeding rumours now?” Rough were the words that greeted you first the moment the two of you entered the study you currently sat in—a half shrug you passed him, “I would need help and rather than begging you for it, why not just keep you as my assistant?”

“Excuse you?” His tone, bewildered as he shut the door behind the two of you—“Your assistant?” He barked out a laugh—“They really are making sheer idiots now huh?”

“Says daddy’s little prince who couldn’t use his academics to get in like everyone else,”

A scoff he passed—“How very original, at least my daddy has the power and how is yours, at all better?” he let his words trail off, a smirk on his lips as he pulled a chair to lounge in, and well, all cases be true, his dad probably had more money than you could imagine.

The certain charm of Gojos, after all.

“Don’t gotta flex your daddy’s sex work like that buddy,” you muttered, pulling a chair across him—peculiar you found it that he didn’t do so much as throw a fit in objection to the forced responsibility.

“Just giving inspiration baby,” he drew out—he winked, phone pulled out fast as he typed, you sat by forgotten.

A roll of your eyes—“Help me at least,”

Silence- you sighed.

“You’re supposed to help,” again, the very same cold air met you—“Gojo,”

“Nope.”

A sharp intake of breath and you stared at him, had it not been for the pretty face he had you’d have punched him long ago—a second too long you stared however, “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,”

Another eye roll—“Just fucking help me,”

“Ain’t gotta princess,” he finally looked up, “I’m here to advise you right?”

An inhale, exhale—biting down on your teeth you nodded, “Of course,” you muttered—which was what had led you to the current situation, tired, exasperated and annoyed.

An hour and a half, slow—very, spent staring a few times at the blank paper and then the ceiling, often Satoru Gojo and then his phone; a couple ideas popped by here and there, all useless—you knew that.

“You know,” you spoke carefully, “As someone who’s helping you bunk without losing attendance, you should really really be thankful,”

“A bouquet will be present in your dorm tonight doll,” not a single glance spared still—it was frustrating simply to sit such.

A sharp exhale you let out, head hung back—this was a stupid idea.

“You know what?” Chair pushed back, you stood up—“I’ll manage,” fingers clutched hard onto your notepad—it hurt when he didn’t do so much as even shrug as you moved towards the door.

Silence, as you turned the handle of the door to leave—not even a look from him.

You despised him.

#6942619412: Yo [11:54 p.m.]

Your eyes narrowed at the sudden text that popped up—ignorance enveloped you still, eyes focused onto the book of applied physics in front of you—regret boring into you as you tried your best to drill the concepts into you, preparing yourself for the soon-to-end semester exams.

#6942619412: busy? [11:56 p.m.]

You ignored still, creeped a little at the protrusion—not enough to let your book down—

#6942619412: idc [11:58 p.mp]

#6942619412: show me your plans [11:58 p.m.]

Face scrunched in annoyance, you stared at your screen—the periodic chimes of notification and the switch from the dull background to immediate light up—Satoru Gojo was somehow a master at infuriating you.

However, as stubborn as lay, you were no better—‘ignorance is bliss’ they said, and you were all too prepared to test it out.

#6942619412: bro wtf. Reply. [12:03 a.m.]

You noted mentally, the time gap between his texts—a sly smile adorning your face. Something in you screamed to not do it—to not go against Satoru Gojo such—the certain something fell to deaf ears as a shit-eating grin you beheld, typing your words in.

You: it’s pathetic of you to message like this [12:03 a.m.]

You: desperate? [12:03 a.m.]

A minute went by, then another—you sighed.

It was perhaps, a bad idea— chime!!

#6942619412: it’s needy of you to message back [12:04 a.m.]

#6942619412: you desperate? [12:04 a.m.]

A smirk—yours, a smirk—his.

You: you realize the first text of your day is to me? [12:04 a.m.]

#6942619412: you realize you’re taking note of how my day goes? [12:05 a.m.]

You: because you decided to bother me in mine—get to whatever you were saying [12:05 a.m.]

#6942619412: there there princess—I demand respect and send me your ideas- or better still I’ll come over to your dorm [12:06 a.m.]

Your eyes remained fixed at the screen; ‘come at your dorm’? Was he stupid?

You: there’s no need to come here gojo. I’ll send you everything right now.

You waited, patiently, however, ever so cruel—time was always slow, especially when waiting onto someone. 5 minutes grudged slow- you were afraid that he would actually show up. Would he?

No, of course not— even for him this was absurd, given the security and the time at night—he was probably asleep—

Knock.

A twist of your window pane’s handle- a thud of your heart and widened set of eyes.

Another knock and you were at your feet, stupidly, opening the window—widening it to welcome Satoru Gojo is your room—scandalous.

A smirk he held, form towering yours by a decent couple inches, “Neat room,” he whistled as he stood awkward, unsure onto whether to place himself until he found your study—making himself comfortable on the spot you just sat.

“Applied physics?” Curiosity laced his voice and a shrug you responded with — “So what?” You muttered, reaching in to close the book—he certainly took note of the tiredness your voice held.

“So you’re an idiot—it’s a tough field.”

Another shrug—“Gets me going and nothing could’ve sucked more than chemistry so,”

A snort he lay bare—only then did you realize how quiet it was, soft breaths, the new morning dancing about the timelines—your gaze on his, and his on yours. How so eccentric—not.

“You couldn’t deal with chemistry? Gotta be dumb or some shit,”

You scoffed—knowing where he was leading it, “do we really need me to redo the whole ‘got in because of your dad’ shit here?”

He grinned wide—and just then you noticed the perfect set of teeth—the ones you’d hoped to punch and break some day, “I think I’d wanna skip it tonight baby,”

“Don’t call me that,”

“Prissy, eh?”

A scrunch of your face, a wink his.

“Why, and dare I ask, how, did you get here?” Brows raised, expression amused as he paced about your room—taking it in, familiarizing himself.

“Don’t worry onto that doll, just show me your ideas,”

Your eye twitched, it was simply alien to you—the feeling of being treated normal by him. By Satoru Gojo- reality set in straight Every Time you realized that something in you, even if small, craved his attention, his validation.

Maybe that was why you were hurt—when he’d ignored you initially, when he’d shove you in the hall without a thought spared—when his gaze was all so disrespectful Everytime you approached Him.

Maybe it was just the social construct of it all.

Maybe it was something else.

So surprise was bound to grip you hard— he wanted your ideas?

“Well?” Fidgety, you noted his actions to be—nervous? You wouldn’t be sure.

“Why?”

A shrug, half hearted, “I heard stuff on you,” and now your interest sat piqued, “They say you’re as good as me when it comes down to getting shit done,” a wink—you gagged internally at his words- his charm?

Not quite so.

“You’ve been snooping around since the past week? Got you that hooked?” A smirk you channeled, unsure still- suspicious more so.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he muttered—his eyes were quicker, quicker that yours, cerulean, I suppose something to do with the color of them—all too pretty to have one care about anything besides themselves.

“I’ve heard of your accomplishments beforehand, you know it—you just weren’t so important and most of the time I was trying to stay off your radar,” his face panned towards the shelf you kept full of books—“but you did interest me,”

A scoff let’s your lips, “Anything with a vagina and boobs will interest you,”

“Hey now-” and for a second he seemed offended, not that you cared, “don’t forget about the ass—and please, I sincerely accept dicks too.” And just at that you chuckled slightly—a small win he deemed it, “man-whore,” you muttered past him- closing your books and grabbing onto the notepad from before.

“Here,” you handed it over— a sudden feeling of embarrassment washing over—after all, as much of a jerk he was, Satoru Gojo sincerely was experienced and amazing at what he did.

Lips pursed, you stared as he read through the stuff- “I know it’s all too-” a hand raised to quieten you, he continued reading—quick at that too.

It took him a minute or so, to go through each of the 4 pages you’d jotted down—“Not bad,” you nodded, “not the best,” you bit your tongue.

“I uh- i know it’s a little extravagant?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “or more so, it’s not very realistic? You have steps planned out and …you know, it’s supposed to be done by humans not machines,”

Your eyes raised in understanding, you weren’t too sure, but just enough.

“Put yourself into it—you’re cool you know that?,” eyes squinted, you watched him carefully- not a word let out.

“Just a little…uptight, learn to let go,”

“how do I…?”

He grinned, “have fun figuring that out—the ideas were cool, gotta go now doll,” you blinked once, twice, and without a word he was gone—you let him. However could you even ever stop him?

And you knew well, the rumbling in your room was sure to get your father awake.

A click on the lock—you closed the window behind him—swift was the way he came about, annoying, the way he left. And yet you still stood alone in the room, pacing about with a dorkish smile.

And only five minutes after he’d left, after the daze was gone—you noticed the bouquet of jasmines on your bedside—huh.

Certainly understood the charm now—especially when your eyes focused onto your phone right before closing.

#6942619412: you’re actually cute when you’re not frowning yk? [1:05 a.m.]

You went to sleep.

~Three weeks before the Fest~

“I’d say it’s coming along amazing,” another fruit roll up popped into his mouth—the fifth packet in last three hours, you were only surprised how he wasn’t sick of them yet.

A nod you passed—“but they’re slow-”

“-because they’re people, they are bound to be slow,”

Another nod.

There was something that Satoru Gojo did help you with, and there was something you’d helped him with as well—his eyes panned onto the elaborate list of numbers he’d gathered, oh how you’d spun the man, Satoru ‘never gonna help nobody’ Gojo into your actual assistant.

“Tell me though, when will you order the booze?”

“It’s an official thing- how can you expect booze to be there?” A ridiculed laugh met you—“ever heard of sneaking shit in princess?”

Of course you had, given that Satoru Gojo snuck himself into your room almost every night, uninvited—so far as to snickering when you squeaked out lies to your father about talking to your friends.

“Shut up, there will be no beverage,” he chuckled at your formal tone, beverage, “you and I, or anyone can get expelled for that—it happened last year,”

“You’re your daddy’s only princess though,”

“And you’re not,” a deadpan from you shut him up quick—“dad’s gonna be mad if he finds it, I won’t be expelled but you might, especially given your record and everything—and yes that means your captaincy and everything too,”

A month ago, the nervousness on his face would’ve made you chuckle—giddy maybe but now it only troubled you for him—hours spent on the floor of your bedroom had opened up conversations after all.

“But you’ll save me right?”

He stared at you; you stared back, you noted the closeness.

There was no reply to be offered—but it did ruin the small moment to hear the causal, “Satoru~” from the lips of her, Mei Mei, long time family friend of his and an equatable annoyance to Satoru Gojo.

Both of your faces whipped to meet hers, yours scorned while his broke into a grin—“Oi!” He chuckled—arms spreading out to greet her, hug her.

“Y/n,” she greeted you too, a smile you passed back—part of your council members after all—“how’s the planning going?”

“Fantastic,” tight lipped you muttered—“fabulous,” she grinned, “mind if I steal Toru’ for a second?”

You mentally gagged at her—‘steal Toru for a second’—except those seconds never really were seconds, rather hours and to your utter annoyance, Gojo never add moves to counter it.

“Of course!” And just like that, gone, daily.

A sigh you let out, staring at the preparations—“why’d you let them walk over you all the time?” A deep voice met you, “Suguru?”

A short smile, a short breath of cigarettes met you—in the best way, “Good day to you too,” he grinned, patting the seat beside him, eyes stuck on his best friend and his rendezvous partner.

“You as , and what exactly do you suppose I do? Stop them?”

“He’s your assistant, ain’t he?”

“Yes but-”

“Am I seeing you finally turn into a push-over, like all the other girls when it comes to him?” All in good humor he spoke, but mostly because it was true.

You were bending your walls for a certain someone—it didn’t feel right.

“You think I shouldn’t?”

“I think you should only if this lasts after the rest as well,”

“Will it?”

A pause, a shrug, “I don’t know, ask him.”

You stared at him—“why are you two the legitimate same at advices? And equally bad?” A laugh met you—“go on, ask him—because as of now, Mei Mei seems to have done what she wanted,”

“Huh?”

A look at him and then at them, your heart sank—he was kissing her, your heart sank more, why were you so bothered by it?

A nervous chuckle you passed to Suguru, an empathetic one he did, “it’s fine,”

“Yeah.”

———

It wasn’t fine, hell it was far from fine—especially when you saw them together there on, all the time.

3 weeks, dates here and there—she was around you all the time, and him, it was infuriating in all aspects of the word.

“Who’re you going with?” Almost everyday he questioned, and you never had an answer because somehow, just something in you had made you reject every proposal—something in you supposed that you two would go together.

You were the organizers—but then, it was no rule.

And even if it was, Satoru Gojo wasn’t big on rules.

-

“Ready?” Suguru grinned, last minute date that you’d found—all so grateful that you stood.

A small nod with a smile you passed—“how do I look?”

“Gorgeous,” another smile, wider—eyes however, they remained stuck onto Gojo.

“It’s not about him tonight doll,”

“It’s never about him,” you mumbled—melancholy—ironic onto how the entire fest that you’d built was based off of youth and what not.

But it was about him, everything was about him- especially in the way your dress, bought just for the occasion was the same cerulean, your hair was braided just how he once mentioned liking, you were wearing the perfume he bought you for you.

Everything.

And you despised all of this everything while having nothing.

“Yo! Y/n,” you paused, Suguru did too—his smirk widening, as did Mei Mei’s, Satoru walked- sauntered over.

“Don’t you look hot?” The grin was wide, your nose scrunched in disgust, “you’re reeking of alcohol,”

He was—of course he was, right after you’d advised him not to.

“Chill, nobody’s gonna know-”

“-we have to meet my dad in 15 minutes.”

“…oh.”

“Well anyways, I see you came with Suguru? You’ve been getting close?”

Your eye twitched—so he did see it—“yeah he’s cool, and helpful, unlike you,”

A giggle, “I have a life outside of you, remember?” Your blood boiled—“of course you do, enjoy it.”

A sharp turn you made, lips bitten, unsure, uncertain—“Honestly though, if I weren’t with Mei tonight I’d actually fuck ya “

Your jaw clenched at the audacity—the other two, Suguru and Mei Mei long disappeared as you flared daggers into Satoru’s soul.

“Can you take one thing seriously? You- you bloody idiot I can’t even-” you whipped around to face him again—eyes boring into his.

Satoru, even in his drunken state knew it would last long, the lecture, a hand pulled you in very quick, a corner, secluded.

“Stop fucking shouting,” slurred his words, they lay bare.

“What do you want me to do then? You- you- I- ugh.” You paused, hard breaths let out—“you’re so fucking annoying.”

“Annoying? You’re the one screaming woman,” the small smirk that he adored annoyed you all the more so.

“Excuse you? I’m annoying?” And at that moment, you let go, “I’m annoying after you spent three weeks fucking with Mei Mei? I’m annoying after you’re the one acting irresponsible? I’m annoying after you ended up treating me like all your others girls? I’m annoying after- after you just chose to walk all over me- I’m annoy- mmph!”

Words lay interrupted quick, a rough hand reeled you in while the other held your head, the kiss was soft, passionate of one would call it, sloppy in the way his lips attached to yours, hungry.

And amusingly, unlike all things Gojo, this did not feel wrong.

But it wouldn’t help your emotions being all over the place—“what the fuck?” You asked, the moment he pulled away—“was it that bad?” An amused chuckle rolled off his lips.

“No? You can’t do this- we can’t just kiss- I-”

“-okay, then take it back,” and just like that, he pulled you in again, lips attaching once more, hands exploring each other easy, slow gasps of breath as you pushed him away this time.

“N-no you- I don’t- what? You take it back,” and almost as if his alcohol was on your mind too, you pulled him in this time—a small peck, harsh, Satoru loved it all the same.

Frustrated you pulled away, grinning his hand held your wrist—“don’t go,” he mumbled, your face contorted into the expression which screamed your annoyance.

“Don’t go? Fuck you Gojo. Fuck you and your damn ego and the audacity you have,” your breaths were shallow, the two stood so close.

“Don’t kiss me when you’re with someone else—you might be a whore but-”

“It was for you,” another mumble, quieter, “to get you jealous and I think it worked?”

A pause.

“And The alcohol?” You whispered—he loved it though, the way you prioritised the reputation above him—somehow you humanised him, “only I’ve drunk it, no one else—to…get your attention,”

“But you never drink…”

“And I never fucked Mei either, or kissed her…or anyone since you,”

“That’s supposed to make me feel special?” It did, but you were done for the day.

“I think so…?”

You blink, once, twice and instead of the third that Satoru expected a sharp slap landed on his face.

“You’re very fucking dumb,” while one hand clutched the cheek he’d been hit at, the other still held your hand, pulling you closer when he heard your choked words—eyes widening at the wetness in your eyes.

“L/n…” a sigh, “fuck I’m- fuck.” He held you close, unnatural to your relation, you let yourself be held.

————

“Sorry?”

You glared at him, the Music blared behind you loud— the both of you stood outside your father’s office, “we’ll deal with that later.”

A slight nod, Satoru was glad you even agreed to talk to him, Satoru was glad you even looked at him—Satoru was simply glad you were standing beside him.

A knock, two more, you walked inside—Satoru, as advised by you stood outside—your father would know of course, instantly.

The room seemed a breath of freshness as you walked, away from the stench that Satoru held, “where’s Gojo?” You were prepared for the question.

“Do you like the fest?” You father was prepared for the dodge—he hummed, “you both did good together, as I supposed,” you hummed.

“He won’t be coming?”

“He’s busy,” you lied through your teeth, “some kids snuck in alcohol, he’s dealing with it,” you were sure you caught your father’s smirk—“that would be highly…inappropriate,”

You bit the inside of your cheek, “of course, we’ll see to it that they’re punished well,”

Your father hummed again, “having a good time?”

“Wonderful,” your father grinned, “well, you can go then but…maybe not today but I do hope meet your assistant soon after, kind of tired of seeing him sneak in through the windows,”

“Dad?!”

“What? You’re grown up and I’ve seen the potential and I kind of think opposites do attract, and you proved me right so,”

Idiots, all around you.

All of this work is entirely original and my own—please refrain from copying or reposting.

Likes and Reblogs highly appreciated!

[augiewrites]

"secret admirer" - dead poets society (part 5)

summary: y/n receives a curious invitation from meeks and has a surprise encounter with neil and todd

pairing: anonymous!dead poet x gender neutral reader

word count: 1.2k

previous | next

It was finally Friday, and Y/N was looking forward to spending the weekend recovering from a week of non-stop exams, cramming, and a nonexistent sleep schedule. The morning’s classes had been a drag so far, and they were looking forward to the reprieve of Keating’s class. Knowing they'd be in close proximity to their admirer aside, Keating’s class gave them an opportunity to activate another part of their brain—one concerned less with grades and formulas.

No, this part was more concerned with matters of feeling. Matters of love, art, expression—everything crucial to finding true meaning in life.

Meaning.

Something that Y/N’s life—and the students of Welton’s lives—was severely lacking.

Y/N shoved the existential crisis to the back of their mind, shooting Todd a smile as he occupied the desk at the front of the class.

Their desk compartment was empty aside from their textbook and notes. Y/N felt their heart drop. It had been empty for days.

Did I make a mistake leaving that poem?

Y/N did their best to not look disappointed. The only thing more embarrassing than their poet’s lack of response was the thought of him observing their discontent.

Keating’s class didn't give them much reprieve that day.

_________________________________________ 

Against their better judgment, Y/N found themselves in the library during common hour. In all truth, Y/N just wanted to go back to their dorm and bang their head against the wall until they fell asleep. Alas, the expectation of a 4.0 GPA was looming over their head.

Thankfully, Meeks was the only other person to show up. Y/N didn't think they had the strength to deal with Dalton.

“So are you just going to keep side eyeing me, or do you have something to say?” Y/N set down their pencil and turned to face Meeks.

“Y/N, you've sighed three times within the last minute,” Meeks quipped, "seems like you're the one with something to say."

“But I'm right, though. You have something you want to say."

“I'll share with the class if you will.”

The two stared at each other for a moment—Meeks' expression much lighter compared to Y/N’s frustrated features.

Y/N gave in first.

“I’m tired, Meeks."

“Of?..."

“Everything.”

“You’re going to have to give me a little more here, Y/N.”

“…”

"I'm waiting."

“My GPA dropped to a 3.7," Y/N’s gaze was fixed to the table, “my parents are not happy. I feel like all I ever do is try, but it's not enough, and it never will be. My social life is practically nonexistent, I don't remember the last time I had fun, and I can feel my spirit dying. Some days it feels like I'm dying."

“You’re more than your grades, Y/N. You have to know that."

“I know that, Meeks. They don't,” Y/N let out a bitter laugh, “they ship me off to this prison, don't let me come home for breaks, and they call me maybe twice a semester if I'm lucky. They see my grades more than they ever see me."

Meeks was silent for a beat as Y/N cradled their head in their hands.

“Tomorrow night. Meet me outside the East wing at 10PM.”

“Meeks, what are you—“

“Just trust me. If you care about your spirit, anyway."

“Fine,” Y/N began packing their bag and stood up, nodding absentmindedly, "yeah, okay."

Because everything was cosmically determined to go wrong, Y/N crashed into Charlie as they rounded the corner out of the library. Their armload of textbooks crashed to the floor.

“Don’t you know to look both ways before crossing the street?" Charlie joked as he knelt to pick up Y/N’s books.

Y/N kept their head down as they gathered the mess of note paper that exploded out of their trig book.

“I mean, really, Y/N. If you want to feel me up you don't need to be so aggressive about it—“

Charlie’s sly smile melted into concern when he noticed the tears in Y/N’s eyes.

"Hey, are you okay, Y/N?” Charlie passed the books to Y/N and placed a gentle hand on their upper am.

Y/N gave the boy a tight lipped smile and stepped away from his touch.

“I'm fine, Dalton," Y/N was already moving down the hall.

“Y/N—“

“If you're looking for Meeks, he's still in there."

Y/N disappeared around the corner, leaving Charlie staring at the space they just occupied.

_________________________________________

Y/N wasn’t one for skipping class, but it was the last period of the day and Y/N thought their head would explode if they didn’t get away from everyone as soon as possible.

They triple checked that the hallway was empty before rushing into the storage room filled with students’ empty luggage.

But the room wasn’t unoccupied like they expected.

Neil Perry and Todd Anderson were in the middle of the room, locked in a gentle embrace.

They jumped apart when they heard Y/N’s soft sound of surprise, and the trio looked at each other in shock for a beat.

“We were just—” Neil took a step away from Todd before the other boy cut him off, surprising everyone, seemingly including himself.

“We’re together.”

They all stared at each other for another moment before Neil stepped forward again.

“You can’t tell anyone, Y/N.”

“I won’t,” Y/N blinked, suddenly coming alive again, “I would never.”

Relief washed over the two boys. Todd was more red than Y/N thought was humanly possible.

“Okay, I’m just gonna,” Y/N took a step back and jerked a thumb over their shoulder at the door, “go…”

They turned quickly to leave.

“Y/N.” Neil’s hand enclosed their wrist as they reached for the doorknob.

They looked up into Neil’s soft gaze, a faint smile on his face, “thank you.”

“Of course,” they returned the smile and waved to Todd as they slipped out the door, rushing to their dorm to avoid being caught for truancy.

_________________________________________

Y/N had been laying in bed for all of fifteen minutes before they heard the familiar sound of paper sliding under the door.

They were out of bed and rushing to open the door before they could think twice. Truancy be damned.

The empty hallway mocked Y/N.

Frustrated tears welled in their eyes as they slammed the door and grabbed the envelope off the floor before ripping it open.

Beloved Y/N,

In your eyes, a storm silently brews, Emotional tempest, tears it strews. I stand close, a silent observer, Love entangled in your pain, a fervent preserver.

Your hurt, a whisper in the quiet air, A shared burden, a weight to bear. In the shadows, love stands strong, A balm for wounds, a solace lifelong.

In the heart's tempest, emotions entwine, Love persists, a steadfast lifeline. I may not heal all that pains your soul, But together, in love, we find a way to be whole.

x, Yours.

Y/N let the tears flow freely as they sunk down onto the bed.

They were certain of who wasn’t their poet, but they were in denial about who it could be.

~~~

part six

a/n: any reality where neil and todd aren't in love is a crime against nature

taglist: @vvnbxz @edb954

[polish-art-tournament]

round 3.7 poll 2

tap to view full images

Kucie kos (Scythe forging) from the series "Polonia" by Artur Grottger, 1863:

about the artist: grottger was a poor little meow meow who really wanted to participate in the uprising in 1863. he even came to lwów to join. but all his friends were like ARTUR BABY NO!!!!! YOU ARE A SICKLY CHILD (he was like 25 or something) so he stayed at home and while the uprising was happening he made the Polonia series depicting scenes from insurgents' lives. his brother was an insurgent and got exiled to siberia for it btw. and grottger also made a Lithuania series bc he was all about that Commonwealth restitution cause. and he continued to be obsessed with the uprising but who can blame him. i mean he also painted other things both historical and portraits of his contemporaries but this is what he is famous for i think

Pożegnanie Europy (Farewell to Europe) by Aleksander Sochaczewski, c.1894:

propaganda: Sochaczewski himself was sentenced to katorga and exile to siberia for 20 years and when he came back he painted many paintings portraying the traumatic experiences there. in this painting he portrayed himself and many of the people who shared the same fate, and showed how diverse the group was bc in this painting he shows the poles, the jews, the women, january uprising participants, common criminals, people from different social strata etc all condemned for the same punishment

[mechs-track-tournament]

Round 3.7.1

[lmchaptertitlebracket]

Round 1, Matchup 153: III.vii vs III.vii.3

[the-most-humble-blog]

<!-- BEGIN TRANSMISSION --> <div style="white-space:pre-wrap"> <meta existential-weight="98.7 sextillion to 1"> <script>ARCHIVE_TAG="BLACKSITE_STATISTICAL_EXISTENCE_DROP_001" EFFECT: troll neutralization, cosmic perspective reset, awe-induced clarity </script>

🧬 HEY, YOU.

---

The one rereading the comment from a troll who’s never written anything worth archiving, quoting, or even remembering past Tuesday.

The one wasting heartbeats wondering if their 12-word drive-by somehow means you’re not worthy.

Let’s reset your entire nervous system with reality.

First things first: Do you have any idea how statistically impossible you are?

Here are the receipts:

> 1 in 400 trillion — > That’s the minimum estimate of the odds of you being born, according to Dr. Ali Binazir, Harvard-trained physician and researcher.

> 13.8 billion years of cosmic chaos. > 4.54 billion years of planetary weirdness. > 3.7 billion years of evolution across mass extinctions, gamma-ray bursts, volcanic winters, and frogs the size of sedans.

You are the result of every survivor in that chaos.

Not a mistake. Not an accident. A mathematical miracle in a meat suit.

Now imagine this:

The Earth is formed. Crust cooling. Oceans churning. Meteor showers lighting up the atmosphere like a rave hosted by Satan.

And in that apocalypse?

A single cell forms. One cell. Floating in what is essentially alien soup, on a planet that looked like it got rejected from a Doom concept art file.

That’s your great-great-great x a billion grandmother.

She didn’t get eaten. She didn’t dry up. She didn’t dissolve.

She multiplied.

And her descendants? Ran, crawled, slithered, fucked, mutated, and evolved through horrors you will never even know existed.

Why?

Because over 99.9% of all life leaves no fossil record. Gone. No trace. Nothing left but implications.

So yes, there probably was a soft-bodied murder-octopus on land. Yes, there probably was a jellyfish the size of a f*cking truck that disintegrated your ancestors on contact.

And yes — if you ever invent a time machine and go back to the Devonian Period?

You’re gonna die. Instantly. Horrifically. And probably from something with no bones, no name, and no screen adaptation.

Don’t even get me started on the viruses that once existed.

Imagine catching something that boils your blood in your own skin like a microwave full of meatballs.

Or a fungus that melts your nervous system before you even twitch.

Or an airborne microbe that doesn’t kill you — it evolves inside you and eats your memories while your body continues paying taxes.

That could’ve happened. And maybe it did.

We just don’t have the records. Because you’re here.

And that means every single one of your ancestors survived all of it.

You think trolls are scary? Try living through the Permian Extinction.

> 252 million years ago: > 96% of marine species and 70% of terrestrial vertebrates wiped out. > Earth’s atmosphere turned to a chemical oven.

And your DNA still made it.

Still not impressed?

Let’s talk about Earth itself.

We exist in a “Goldilocks Zone.” Not too hot. Not too cold. Just right.

But even that doesn’t last.

Every stability on Earth is temporary. We are between ice ages. Between magnetic pole flips. Between solar flares that could fry the grid like a cockroach under a magnifying glass.

And you? You’re reading this on a glowing rectangle in the last microsecond of relative peace in a cosmic timeline that doesn’t care if you exist.

And yet — here you are.

Now imagine thinking a troll on the internet has the power to define you.

A troll who statistically hasn’t written a single sentence anyone willingly re-read.

Who wouldn’t survive a single round of jellyfish extinction or bat plague or saber-toothed orgy.

A troll who is only here because billions of others fought, starved, mutated, suffered, and bled for the right to exist at all.

You are the only version of you in this one surviving universe where you happened.

You are an evolutionary chainsaw, sharpened over 3 billion years of death, grit, chaos, birth, and luck.

You’re not a person. You’re a biological victory lap.

So don’t let someone who wouldn’t survive a bullfrog the size of a Honda make you doubt your power.

You have human hands that evolved from fins. You have eyes that descended from light-sensitive cells floating in primordial vomit. You have language that didn’t exist on Earth for 4.5 billion years — and now you’re using it to doubt yourself because a digital fart with Wi-Fi said “lol u suck”?

Listen.

If it doesn’t serve you? Mute it. Block it. Evolve past it.

Because the fact you’re alive means you’ve already outlived ten million things designed to erase you.

And you can outlive a troll too.

In the voice of Yoda: > “If it makes sense to you… > the universe doesn’t give a fuck.”

So don’t waste your miracle on someone who doesn’t even understand they are one.

🔥 Reblog if you needed the reminder: You are the final boss of improbability.

</div> <!-- END TRANSMISSION [AUTO-WIPE IN: 00:07:07] -->

[appleciderp]

I was ADHD avoiding a task, and calculated how many sons of Priam that the Greek hero's killed.

Menelaus (You should know him) and Automedon (Achilles' chariot boy) each get half a son (since it was listed as x or y killed them) so they killed 0.74% of Priam's sons Total Priam Son Kills: 1.48% (rounding up to 1.5%)

Polymestor (not a Greek hero, but someone who killed Priam's youngest son for the love of the game), Philoctetes (who killed Paris), Meges (We went into The Horse), Teucer (He killed 30 Trojan's in total), Eurypylus (Who had a bunch of ships (40). He's also the one who Patroclus tends to their wounds before he tries to convince Achilles to rejoin), and Patroclus (my boy. Killed 27 men in a day, iconic. "Just Homies" with Achilles (they def fucked) Prob lower because he died before they hit the city proper) all killed one of the sons, so 1.5% of Priam's sons TPSK: 10.5%

Agamemnon (that guy nobody likes) killed 1.5, so 2.2% TPSK: 12.7%

Idomeneus (just a guy tbh, lives through the war) killed 2.5, so 3.7% TPSK: 16.4%

Pyrrhus (famous for being Achilles' only child, showed up to the party late, since he was a kid... Like 12-16 when he did this) killed 3, so 4.4% TPSK: 20.8%

Odysseus (the original wife guy) and Diomedes (Odysseus' pal) both killed 3.5 each, so 5.1% each TPSK: 31%

Greater Ajax (The guy they named the cleaning product after) killed a whopping 5, so 7.4% TPSK: 38.4%

Achilles (the man, the myth, the legend) killed 7.5 of Priam's sons, making him the only one with a double digit percentage of 11% (And he killed Hektor, Priam's favorite too) Total Priam Sons Killed: 49.4%

Of course, this only hits the named ones, Priam is said to have had 68 boys (and like 18 girls). So like, there's probably more...

[remidyal]

Game Changer Episodes (through 7.3) ranked favorite to least favorite

We're going to try to be BRIEF with this, because there's a ton of these.

5.9 Escape the Greenroom

The perfect episode, up to and including that there's a real chance at points that the players might physically assault Sam.

6.6 Deja Vu

I love time loop premises and analog horror and this combines them to great effect.

6.7 Beat the Buzzer

The best of the Seven reunion episodes to me, wildly creative work by the art team.

6.3 Sam Says 3

I'm penalizing game samers some in these rankings and this still is the top of this set. Presumably the last Sam Says ever since escalation here enters criminal territory.

4.1 Sam Says

It's just such a great premise because it's so simple and people know the tricks to watch for and they still fall for it.

7.1 One Year Later

Utterly deranged and also a sign that we're getting insanely longer as the seasons go along. This list is rough on the early seasons in part because early season episodes might go 15-20 minutes and now we're regularly getting 40+ but this one is above and beyond.

5.1 Sam Says 2

Being the weakest installment of Sam Says for me is still being an absolutely incredible episode.

5.4 Name a Number

This one may actually be hurt a little bit for me by the physical pain of the 'I'm Hungy' call, but it's still incredible top to bottom.

1.1 Lie Detector

The first episode of the series and also still genuinely incredible; the cast absolutely being willing to go full out here helps set the tone for the entire series to come.

6.1 Second Place

My personal favorite of the fuck with Brennan episodes, in part because Sam genuinely seems to not have realized how much it would.

1.4 Whodunnit

A rare 'fuck with a specific person' episode not targeted at Brennan or Grant, and just deeply funny. One of the episodes I used to use to hook people on the show, because it's on youtube free.

3.7 Jeopardy!

A WEIRD episode from the Zoom Season that I profoundly love.

6.5 Bingo

Another entry in the pantheon of fucking with Brennan, made extra hilarious because he wasn't even supposed to be in it.

2.2 Do I Hear $1?

To some degree kind of a follow up to Total Forgiveness, it remains incredible how far Ally and Grant are willing to go.

2.6 Yes or No

A lot of people would probably have this higher, but the rant aside I do like the episodes where fucking with Brennan is a side effect of the game more than just it being the point.

4.8 Race to the Bottom

Katie coming in to scab was basically perfect for making the game re-work after the unionization.

1.2 Make Some Noise

Honestly a legacy ranking; it's fun and obviously spawned a whole lot of great stuff but the prompts are incredibly basic next to what was to come.

2.4 A Sponsored Episode

Sam has openly stated that the where you from? joke out of this is the thing that has haunted him the most on dropout stuff, but it's a really fun episode even apart from that.

7.2 You-lympics

Hard to tell recency bias on ones from this season, could slide on a rewatch but I did pretty thoroughly enjoy it.

5.6 As A Cucumber

I enjoy the premise overall but heart rate monitor stuff is always a little wonky for me.

3.1 Tell Us About Yourself

One of my favorite 'try to figure out the rules here' episodes, helped by my enjoyment of the idea that Tony Hawk just hangs out in robes in a dank basement somewhere.

4.2 Noise Boys

Again, penalizing Game Samers to some degree, but this is probably the best of the Make Some Noise episodes on Game Changer before it got spun off if you're watching it without that in mind. That said, there's likely ten episodes in the most recent season of Make Some Noise better than this still.

3.2 Sell Outs

The first of two follow-ups to the marketing episode in the zoom season, this is one of the concepts that works pretty well over zoom but doesn't take unique advantage of it a la Jeopardy or Tell Us About Yourself. Still good fun.

2.1 Round 4

More make some noise, does establish the gag about the points continuing between episodes.

3.8 Secret Samta

This is the best of the premises that are basically just 'Sam gives shit away' to me.

4.4 Secret Samta 3

It's better in person then over zoom, but game samer penalty.

3.15 Secret Samta 2: The Samta Clause

They do add some fun twists and all on each episode as they go, though, so they all kind of ended up clumped.

7.3 Earnest-est

I don't get the batman obsession in this episode (is batman especially earnest in Sam's mind?) and also the Joker wasn't even in the movie with Kiss From A Rose on the soundtrack but that aside it's a lot of fun.

3.11 Three for the Price of One

The last of the marketing episodes, still good fun, even if Grant's the worst salesman on earth.

5.2 Like My Coffee 2

Inuendo is always fun, but this makes it above the original for one simple reason: Bringing Grant's mother onto this episode as a surprise guest is a crazy move in the ongoing war of humiliation between Grant and Sam.

4.9/4.10 Survivor

These multi-parters are getting grouped together and an average grade. My favorite of the 'reality show knockoff' bunch, in part because it was the first time they did it and people who were into it were REALLY into it.

3.6 Never Have I Ever

The precursor to Dirty Laundry and I love that show.

5.10-5.13 Battle Royale

A lot going on here, but kind of weak compared to the average episode, just.. there's a lot of it.

4.6 Filmed Before a Live Studio Audience

I think one of the weaker premises they've done, carried strongly by the cast.

1.3 Game of Prizes

The first "Sam gives shit away" episode, this one is a little fun but not among the more balanced rulesets they've used.

4.2 Like My Coffee

Basically just an improv game, but it's a fun one.

5.5 A Game Most Changed

I'm more into standard theater than I am anything musical, but I found the episode more impressive on a talent level than actually funny and I don't think it's especially rewatchable.

1.5 Nom Nom Nom

Kind of a gross episode, reminds me a bit of Double Dare as a kid.

6.2 The Newlyweb Game

Fun, and I'd never give up my phone to Sam Reich, but especially by the standards of recent seasons nothing that wild - this one's a double, not a home run.

3.5 Ham It Up

A great guest here, and this is a premise I think might go better in an in person situation than over Zoom. I'd love to see this one iterated on.

2.5 The Everything Factory

One of the first complete chaos episodes, but a little repetitive.

6.4 Pencils Down

Art episodes don't tend to be my favorites; there's some really good bits in this, but the nature of it means there aren't that many prompts in the episode.

3.14 Tome of Terror

I like improv storytelling a bit more than art on average but all of these are just alright to me.

4.5 The Official Cast Recording

This is one I think most people would have higher; I'm just not a musical theater person and pretty much any kind of musical comedy's getting dinged points for me.

3.3 Changer Con

I get what they were going for, and it kind of works, but the dressup bits on Make Some Noise aren't really my thing either.

3.12 Next Slide Please

Recreational powerpoints (see also: Smartypants) seem to really appeal to people who haven't held office jobs. I've held an office job.

5.2 Karaoke Night

More musical humor, more things most people would rate higher.

6.8/6.9 Ratfish

Some great bits in here, but really dragged down by everything to do with the Ratfish himself and also I just kind of hate the rules of this game.

3.13 Make it Fashion

More zoom dressup. It's fine.

4.7 Don't Cry

Honestly a very sweet episode and the recurring bit of Jess losing points at the end is hilarious but this is a much kinder gesture than like, full episode.

2.3 Sleeper Agents

This premise just doesn't work at all for me, and just.. interacting with the public always makes me cringe a little bit. Also notably by FAR the shortest episode of the series; even the shortest zoom episodes are like 20% longer than this.

5.6/5.7 The Bachelor

Almost painful to watch for me, but I also hate the actual Bachelor so good job mimicking it I guess?

3.4 Is This Thing On?

I get what they were going for, but definitely the worst of the Sam Gives Shit Away premises.

3.10 The Substitute

Noise Boys over zoom without Zac did… not work super well for me.

3.9 2020 Vision

A quiz episode about 'did this happen in 2020' that does not work at all now that it's not 2020 anymore.