#I bet someone’s already made this joke. it’s low hanging fruit

[the-eclectic-wonderer]

Huh, I didn’t remember all *that* in Barbie: The Princess and the Pauper

[solomonish]

Naamah’s “Match-Up” That I Made Needlessly Complicated!

IT TOOK ME A WHILE BUT I DID GO CRAZY AND STUPID

hewwo @baalism I made u......less of a match up and more just headcanons on how u date the people. i hope u like it <3 I divided them into tiers depending on how well I think they mesh w you too!! so here you go!

TOP TIER (NOT kissing up 2 u!)

SATAN

I think Satan is your #1 man because the two of you just seem to be.....kindred spirits. (I am calling you the same as Satan but like as a compliment?) Y’all got that academia vibe to you with your books and your museum dates and your air of mystery. You two are the hot nerd squad is what i’m saying

Plus Satan is a social butterfly! He’d not only like the quieter moments w you but also when you went dancing he could either be living it up with you or making new connections (although. if he was going to the club why would he stray from the main attraction? make it make sense)

And with him that trust would be super easy to get bc if you’re dating him, HOO BOY. He’s got some Issues but he trusts you to help him get through them! There is a lot of him that feels prickly and dangerous and if you don’t shy away from that and can help him through it then you have his heart! As long as you aren’t ripping his attention away from a thrilling chapter, he’s a great conversation partner too. His quiet nature at first is NOT shyness, it allows him to be observant!! You are one of the few who get the chatty inside ^u^

Plus he loves ur cat and will be on her side when she screws with your puzzles.

SOLOMON

THE ONLY REASON he is not number one is he’s a bit too much of a wallflower to be into the partying like Satan would be. Otherwise....hot nerd squad two electric boogaloo

Is a bit more down with the witchy outdoorsy stuff and the occult and the abandoned place exploration thing than Satan would be. I bet one of his favorite things to do is take u to an abandoned building and after being there for a while when you start to get bored, he enchants it to look like the inside of some old castle and you dance together or something :) memories for u

isn’t always super chatty but is great for listening to you rant. he makes up for his lack of chattiness by asking the perfect questions to get you fired up again, so your ranting takes up most of the time. loves to pick ur brain, so you can talk about anything. he’s like: i want to dissect that smart lil organ of yours. lovingly <3

keep your sudoku puzzles up or he will mistake your books for his and do them for you. the image of him sitting cross legged at an armchair like some grandpa is nice but those are your puzzles!!!! but he’s very good at being domestic, just make sure to ALWAYS cook or bake with him!

LUCIFER

Listen, I hc Lucifer as like kind of a wallflower, but even if i’m wrong, he’ll still not be partying with you a lot because he’s busy! of course doesn’t stop you from going out if you want just be safe pls he lovs u

will take a walk with you every day all the time. After dinner before he goes back to work, he’ll take a little stroll with you. when he has time he’ll go for longer ones and show you some off-beat or decrepit devildom areas but he will absolutely just go on little walks with you every day to catch up with you!!

lives for the domestic moments. you bring him coffee? he is glad to be yours! walks in on you doing laundry? how luck he is to have someone so capable <3 he’ll help you fold the rest of the load or will make sure to talk with you while it’s his turn to make dinner (but will make sure you don’t have to help! you deserve a break)

finds your interest in the arcane kinda funny because he IS the arcane but supports you <3 will listen to you list off what you know even if he also knows because he likes hearing what you’ve learned and you get so excited about it! he will return with his own spells and potions you might not know yet and you two could go on for hours about it.

HIGH-MID TIER

ASMODEUS

His interests align with your! Fashion, beauty, partying!! He loves it. LIVES for it. you two are an unstoppable force.

However....the academic/witchy stuff doesn’t suit him as well as the other stuff does? He’ll whine about you “being a satan” or “being a solomon” if you tread too far in one direction

he’ll work out with you though and buy you cute workout gear <3

a relationship with him is less emphasizing trust and more about intimacy (but you can still trust him yknow?) he makes your connection known by demonstrating it plainly rather than feeling like a safehouse, if that make sense? but he does love u to pieces!! remember that

BEELZEBUB

he wants to eat ur cupcakes this is my main reasoning and also NOT a dirty joke

if he goes partying w you he acts more as a personal bouncer and will circle the crowd like a shark for u <3 also great to bring you home if you’re drunk

he likes taking walks and hiking and being active with you! he does have to slow down so he doesn’t overexert your human body but he doesn’t mind because he’s having fun!

v sweet with the domestic stuff, just not great at cleaning. he just leaves crumbs over the floor he just cleaned :/ thinks u look cute in an apron tho

DIAVOLO

AHHHHH he thinks ur so interesting! so well rounded :0

also it’s good that you’re into witchy stuff! that made your transition to the devildom a bit easier huh?

absolutely loves how eager you are to learn because that’s what you need for the program to succeed! and you already know so much.....you would make.....a very knowledgeable..ruler....of the Devildom.....ahem.....

the above are used to physical affection but could back it up with some mistakes but Diavolo doesn’t get the chance to give affection so whatever ur comfortable with getting he will channel it all in to that!! gifts or words or whatever!!!

but if u give him a lil smooch he will be !!!!!!!! it just feels nice

AN ANOMALY

BARBATOS

I don’t understand this fucker (affectionate). IDK if I can’t place him bc I don’t know him that well or just because he refuses to be categorized but! he is here. perfectly in the middle. taunting me.

idk ur academic prowess is preferable because he wants someone who can keep up with him. and ur interest in spooky stuff works well bc he’s a demon and if he were a human he’d like the occult too.

can’t really go clubbing or take you very many places bc of work :/ he can do strolls around the garden though! or walk you home from places :)

good with the not initiating physical touch because he can shapeshift into whatever you need him to be. an anomaly indeed.

LOW-MID TIER

SIMEON

he respects you :)

finds your academic pursuits inspring! your interest in the occult is a bit off-putting at first but you all are in hell so who is he to blame?

loves to collect your witchy stuff with you <3 knows a lot about safe to eat fruits so he’ll be collecting things for a fresh strawberry pie while you collect what you need to summon lucifer without a pact even though he lives in ur house and you HAVE a pact. 

you can bake the pie together though <3

BELPHEGOR

he does not respect you :)

finds your occult pursuits inspiring! your interest in excelling in academics is a bit off-putting at first - why would you choose to put more work in when you can jsut vibe and pass bc you’re an exchange student?

(ok i’m done making this the inverse of the above lol)

not the most chatty or the most workout-y or patying-y or anything BUT he can be a little domestic. you do the cleaning and he can cook once in a while! and he’ll make the bed! and then he’ll sleep in it immediately. but he’ll be wishing you were cuddling with him the whole time <3

LOW TIER

MAMMON

he’s got the energy but not the respect

unlike the way belphie disrespects you, mammon does it just bc you’re incompatible :/ but like in the nicest way possible

he interrupts when he’s chatty and he’s not the type to hang out with nerds and like. he’s too scared to get into the occult and abandoned buildings.

he does love you to bits! just....not in the way you want. sorry mams :/

LEVIATHAN

he can get chatty for sure!!

but he just does not have the energy to match your academic pursuits or your outdoorsy interests or clubbing or beauty or any of that. 

ok MAYBE the enrd stuff but like only a little! too much and that’d make him a normie >:(

y’all trust each other a lot tho! just as henry and lord of shadow, like friends. not a significant others

OKAY i didn’t burn myself out!! i hope you like this and agree maybe? hehe this was fun

[carol-effing-danvers]

Have a blurb from the dark magicks AU

Let’s pretend I’ll finish this at some point, eh? Wouldn’t that be nice?

The eyes of the wolf tattooed between Hargrove’s pecs seemed to be staring at him, with a gaze as eerie as its owner. The bones in his long blond braids were singing low, whispering songs, ancient tongues of the sand and sea. Steve wondered if Billy could actually hear them or if someone had sold him beads made of bone as a joke. He glanced at the black symbols inked over Billy’s knuckles, designs of alchemy and old ruins. No, he was certain Billy knew they were real, and he heard the song of the deep seas. His eyes seemed bluer than before - like quicksilver, almost - as they stared at each other and the words emerged before Steve could snatch them back. “You aren’t really a human, are you?”

Billy cocked his hip against the counter and grinned at him, tilting his chin up to openly study him. “What about you, pretty boy? Whatcha got hiding underneath that pretty face?”

Steve tried to keep the line of his shoulders relaxed, but he could tell from the way Billy’s grin suddenly matched the wide jaws of the wolf that he hadn’t been as successful as he hoped. “My face is my face, Hargrove,” he said flatly. “Try not to cream your pants.” 

"Oh, you’re a terrible liar. No, no, no,” he crooned, tilting his head. Around his neck, the silver medallion he wore spun wildly, chiming a tune that set Steve’s teeth on edge. “You’re wearing an Illusion spell - no!” he corrected, delighted with himself. “You’ve Transfigured yourself!” 

For the first time, Dustin looked at Steve with uncertainty in his eyes and it was making him feel sick. “Steve...what’s he talking about?”

“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Steve said sharply, squeezing the back of Dustin’s neck reassuringly. He could smash that smug grin right off Billy Hargrove’s face - even now his own blood sang a song of how easily they could destroy him. If Steve would give in.

Tear, bleed, fuck, feast.

Max popped her gum with a sassy expression. “Are you calling my brother a liar?!” 

“No, he just doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” he said, unable to quite stop himself from imitating her bratty tone, despite being twice her age. 

“Oh, come on, Harrington,” Billy said, amused. “It can’t be that bad. I doubt you’re part mountain troll. You don’t stink enough. Take off the mask, it ain’t Halloween anymore.” 

"Every day is Halloween, haven't you been paying attention?" he answered coolly, turning away from him.

Billy snarled at the implied dismissal, quicksilver eyes gleaming mercury-bright. Lowly, he said “That wasn’t a request, you snotty little twat.”

Steve turned in time to see the five glowing yellow points on the fingertips of his left hand. With those glowing fingertips, he pulled at the air between them, like Billy was tugging on a leash. 

And Steve was at the other end. 

Tear, bleed, fuck, feast.

Mrs. Wheeler’s fruit bowl spilled all over the floor and the tablecloth as Steve stumbled backward to crash into the dining room table. Fire blazed along his shoulder blades and Steve groaned in pain. “Stop!” Dustin pleaded, sounding close to tears. “Stop, you’re hurting him!” 

Each of his knuckles burned and the wood of the table screeched as Steve blindly reached to hang onto the edge with hands that suddenly had thick claws in place of nails. When the pain begin radiating through his jaws, his shoulders tightening up, Steve roared “DON’T!”, his vocal chords reaching a pitch that made Billy’s face look triumphant. He could feel the sharp edges of his own teeth, trying to fill his mouth with daggers. He cried out in a human range, “Not in front of them! Don’t hurt the kids, you fucking idiot!” 

He’s never hurt someone without meaning to before, but he wasn’t willing to bet their lives on that record, either. Especially when Hargrove already made him want to kill something.

The burning pain in his back and jaws began receding and Steve glared balefully down at the claws at the ends of his hands. Sounding almost stunned, Hargrove asked “What the fuck are you, Harrington?” 

Steve raised his eyes, wondering if they were still dark brown. “None of your goddamn business.” He bared his fangs, feeling like a fucking monster when he saw the children all cower against the kitchen cabinets out of the corner of his eye. “I’m not Transfigured, you arrogant asshole. I’m Dormant. And don’t ever fucking do that again.”

[haikyuuwritings-blog]

Loved your flower shop one!! Could we get one like that with Ushijima, Kenma, MIya twins & Bokuto?? Thank you!!!

Ushijima

→ He had just went out shopping for a new pair of shoes and some new sweatpants when he stumbles across the tiny flower shop that was near the sports shop. Though flowers do not typically interest, it’s the ads that get him, and he far from regrets from going in once seeing the beautiful shopkeeper. He’s not much of a romantic person himself, however her kindness and sturdiness when dealing with customers, attracting him to her. The flower is accepted with a nod and scarlet painted across his features.

→ A certain redhead convinces him to visit her again, as he wants to see his best friend happy (Ushijima claims to be not fooled by romance when he actually wants a partner by heart). He brings along his own plant in return, a strawberry plant, and they soon bond over different plants and how they’re grown (I headcanon that his family is deeply involved with agriculture). They slowly fall for each other, and soon he is head over heels for her.

→ Visits her shop when he is able to, and to make up for the time that he misses, he invites her to watch his matches. He basically seals the deal with a first date to his grandfather’s orchard, where they spend they day picking a variety of fruit and basking in one another’s presence. It is finally then that he confesses, which having much to do with Tendou. At first she thinks he’s angry because he tenses up when embarrassed, but is very happy when she finds out her feelings are shared.

→ They make time for one another, knowing one another’s busy schedules, and Ushijima finds himself wanting to spend time with her more, because he is very emotionally connected to her. Of course he wouldn’t give up his duties to volleyball or school, but a few rules could be broken because of love, right? He often has to explain to a smirking Tendou whenever he finds an article of clothing of hers in their room.

Kenma

→Kuroo dragged him out to some place or another and the poor boy fell into an unfamiliar shop full of flowers. As pretty as it was, he didn’t want to get separated from his friend until he runs into the pretty shopkeeper who offers to help him. Though not social much, he is still attracted to the bubbliness of her personality, the gentleness in her movements and mannerisms bringing him great interest, and he finds himself wanting to talk to her, which is a rare thing indeed.

→ Gratefully accepts the flower from her, clutching it to his chest so that he does not lose it. Gently accepts to meet her afterwards, though there is a nervousness that he’ll be rejected by her, and it takes Kuroo to convince him to go back and visit. He comes to enjoy visiting her, as she is not too loud for his tastes and she takes the time to listen to him, actually making sure that he feels accepted and that she is listening to hm.

→ Eventually it is Kuroo that sets them up together, as they are both so oblivious to one another’s feelings that there needs to be an extra push in the direction of romance. Kenma soon finds himself sitting in a cafe, without his phone and portable gaming system (God knows how that happened), along with her, and he finds himself enjoying it very much. She is the first to confess her feelings, which makes him a little happy pudding cup that had finally found romance despite his reserved personality.

→ They see one another on a regular basis and enjoy spending time with one another in blissful silence, as their presence is enough for one another. She comes to visit him more often now, wanting to suit his needs and personality, but Kenma will go travel to her flower shop in order to keep the balance between them. Overall, they’re just a really cute and quiet couple in love, bonded together through his falling into a little flower shop.

Atsumu

→ Probably just chiling around a shopping area with his brother, seeking someone to troll and joke around with,, when he finds the flower shop. Doesn’t really need the flowers himself, but there is the potential for jokes to be made and to provoke people. However all those thoughts are lost upon his meeting of the gorgeous and kind shopkeeper,  whose smile could lift a million hearts. Though he does his best to be charming, he really comes off as a joking dork, though she finds it completely adorable and hands him a flower.

→ You bet that he’s going back to the flower shop for more, as he had not found someone that actually laughed at his jokes (even if some of those laughs were fake). For once, his compliments are not mean spirited and off-handed, and he genuinely feels affection towards her. Unlike the previous two, he is more forward his feelings, and soon asks her on a date (he is confident that she’ll accept), though she says no at first.

→ It takes some work to convince her, as she is most definitely playing hard-to-get with him (she really wants to see if he’s serious about this relationship or not). Eventually, she does give in to his proposal, and having seen that he is genuine in his affections despite his carefree attitude and joking around. Though she appreciates humor, he can be quite a handful to deal with, even with her patience.

Osamu

→ Very similar to the previous situation, he’s just basically hanging around him whenever they enter this cute, little flower shop. While his brother is joking around, Osamu finds himself attracted to the cute girl at the front, though it is her that greets him first before he can say a word. Nothing much passes his lips, though he is instantly charmed by her and does his best to talk to her (as he doesn’t want to lose this opportunity). Fortunately for him, she’s rather attracted to him and his cool personality, and a flower is offered to him wit the hopes that he’ll visit again.

→ Atsumu takes matters into his own hands, immediately claiming that she wants to date his brother. Osamu denies it could happen so quickly (and wants it to keep it on the down low), though his twin is already thinking of how to get him and the flower shop girl together. He goes to visit her himself, fearing that the other would ruin it for him with his bad jokes, slowly developing a relationship at a pace comfortable for him. 

→ Fortunately, they are dating before any of his jokes can affect his chances, with the girl having confessed her feelings on the day he planned to ask her out. Though he might not show it much, he’s actually very happy and excited to begin a new relationship with this cute girl, because he’s never really had good experiences with romance (he’s actually been rejected quite often and there actually had been a fear that she would reject him as well). Although there will be never ending teasing from his brother, it is most definitely worth it. 

Bokuto

→ Has to go on a new route to school because a certain someone forgot their daily pass for the train (the school is not too far but the train is way more convenient). Being the knucklehead he is, his attention is easily caught by the pretty girl that is watering her flowers right outside a shop, and he finds himself in love at first sight. She is much unlike him, quiet, almost with an air of being unconfident, though she is charming nevertheless, and he finds himself fascinated with her. He is over the moon when she gently gives him the flower and he nearly falls over his own feet when leaving the shop to go to school.

→ She is constantly on this thoughts, even during volleyball practice (earning even more reprimands than usual from Akaashi), and he just has to visit her the next day. He’s actually quite the romantic person and soon finds himself imaging him going on dates with her, so much that it almost slips out of his mouth when he’s talking with her. She, on the other hand, is very amused by him (though a little intimidated by such excitedness), and she begins to grow fond of him and his visits.

→ One day he swings by with the intentions of asking her out on date when he sees her hugging another male (her brother in fact), which crushes his poor heart immediately. Upon hearing his wail of unhappiness and his quick run out of the shop, she follows him outside, determined to voncince him that it wasn’t what he had seen. Once she explains everything to him, he immediately perks up, happy that he has the chance to confess and take her on one of those dates like he had imagined.

→ Bokuto absolutely loves going to her flower shop and seeing what she does, because he knows how much she loves her job, and there’s nothing better than working with something that you love. She, in return, goes to his volleyball games to watch him, and he often constantly shows her off to his teammates despite her timid and unconfident personality, and she receives much affection and reassurance from the owl captain. 

[snarktheater]

Stranger Than Fanfiction — An addendum

So, I have a Twitter account. I know I hardly ever mention it, and the link to it is easy to miss in the blog's theme, but it exists. I almost forget about it myself, because I am the kind of human being who does that. Ahem.

All this to say, it feels like a semi-miracle that someone actually replied to one of my tweets on the Snark Theater account (specifically, the one about my Stranger Than Fanfiction review, and like another semi-miracle that I noticed it within just a few hours and not…like, months later. And I guess that adds up to a full miracle, because my miracle math is flawless like that.

Let's have a look (Disclaimer: I do not endorse people reading this blog post going after this Twitter user, so please don't do that, guys.)

Transcript:

The book is a NY Times best seller so a lot of people disagree with you. "It ain't Shakespeare." I bet he laughs all the way to the bank!

Hoo boy. Well, on the plus side, thank you, Twitter user gobbledguck, for reminding me about a crucial point I completely missed in my original review. Let's discuss. And I'm warning you in advance, this is probably going to be a little rambling. More than usual, I mean.

Now, I'm not talking about the tweet in general. "But if popular, how can it be bad?" is a question to which I've had a definitive answer for five years now: Fifty Shades of Grey. We live in a post-Fifty Shades world and popularity has been thoroughly debunked as a measure of quality.

So I'm not going to argue with the fact that the book is a best-seller, especially in the case of this specific book, which, in case you forgot, is written by a person who has millions of pre-established fans for something that has nothing to to with writing and who would buy anything he puts out there. Including, reluctantly so, this guy right here typing this blog post. I did not mention having a celebrity crush on Chris Colfer as a joke. It is well documented.

With the ritual self-depantsing out of the way, let's talk about the actually interesting thing in this tweet, and the one that actually ties back into the book. The (incorrect, but let's ignore that detail) quote. Let's put it back in context, which is from page 2 of Stranger Than Fanfiction.

Naturally, when it first premiered the critics treated the show [Wiz Kids, the fictional show protagonist Cash Carter stars in] like a piñata. […] However, with each fatal blow Wiz Kids only received more attention. People tuned in to see the "absurdity" for themselves, but they were not repulsed as promised. Audiences found the show's campiness to be rather charming, its unique underdog spirit resonated with them, and a global phenomenon was born. No, it wasn't Shakespeare, but on the bright side, it wasn't Shakespeare.

The low-hanging fruit response to this tweet is pretty simple. They are, after all, referencing the fact that the show is terrible, in the book's own text. It is beloved, but even the book's protagonists admit in hindsight that they don't like the show for itself as much as they like it for the community it gave them. (Which is pretty comparable to Chris Colfer's own Glee).

But let's not reach for the low-hanging fruit, because I think choosing Shakespeare of all points of comparison to be incredibly interesting. You could rephrase that last sentence of the quote as "it wasn't high art, but on the bright side, it was accessible." Which is funny to use Shakespeare for that, who…you know, made low-brow entertainment. Yeah, Shakespeare's popularity didn't stem from him writing stuffy, obscure stuff that only a tiny amount of elites could understand. It came from him writing (mostly) good stuff.

There's this weird trend these days to present critical acclaim and commercial success as antithetical, and I don't really get it. Or actually, I do, but the anti-intellectualism it derives from is kind of scary to me and I'm already planning an essay of sorts about anti-intellectualism, so I'm not sure I want to examine it in detail right about now.

The point is: anyone who criticizes something is immediately dismissed as wrong, a buzzkill, or in this specific case, fighting in vain against an overwhelming tide. It's become common to glorify being panned by critics, and it makes me wonder: what exactly are the ambitions of the people doing that?

I mean, look at Chris Colfer. What's his motive for writing this book? Is it to make money, as is implied by our Twitter user above saying he'll be "laughing all the way to the bank" at my little review? I have some serious doubts, considering he's already pretty successful. Is it because he had a story to tell, and wanted to tell it? If so…why would he consider critics to be the enemy? Wouldn't it be preferable to listen to them and strive for the best version of that story you can tell? Is it because he wanted to send a message about LGBT kids (Sam and Joey, sort of Topher), kids from toxic family environments (Mo and Joey), kids raised by single parents (all but Joey)? Then, once again, why not listen to people telling you your message might not really convey as well as you thought it would?

Of course, this is all hypothetical, and reviews aren't really meant for the author anyway. I don't expect Chris Colfer to read my review of his book, nor do I really want to, because I'm writing for potential readers, not for him. I'm talking about the attitude to dismiss critics and present a dichotomy of quality entertainment (here symbolized as "Shakespeare") versus enjoyable entertainment (i.e. Wiz Kids or the book itself). Not just because it doesn't apply to me personally (to paraphrase Lindsay Ellis on her Top Ten Guilty Pleasures video—which is apparently off Youtube at the moment—"no, I don't want to turn off my brain, I'm using it"), but also because it doesn't really seem to apply…in general.

Again, take Shakespeare. Am I supposed to just agree that it's adapted so much because people hate it? Every teenager in love sees themselves as Romeo and Juliet because that play is just so inaccessible and stuffy and high-brow? Yeah, right. (And that's without getting into a debate on whether Romeo and Juliet is a romance, a cautionary tale, or a mix of the two; it's still a pretty well-made play regardless of how you read it)

In fact, it's pretty easy to find things that are good and extremely popular, because it tends to be what survives the test of time (like, you know, Shakespeare). It's not universal, and it doesn't mean you personally have to like any of it. I hate Emile Zola's books and most of the music made before I was born, and for all I've defended him, I'm not a super fan of Shakespeare. But it doesn't mean I can't see the quality in all those things, or the fact that they had some pretty wide appeal, both then and now.

So that dichotomy is bullshit. What about the idea that critics themselves are wrong? You know, the idea that critics are a tool of the status quo rather than a measure of quality. Recently, you see that a lot whenever people criticize anything enjoyed by teenage girls (and not unreasonably so). Except…then you have to consider your definition of a critic. After all, to quote an overused phrase, everyone's a critic. All it takes is having thoughts about a thing. And in the Internet age, once can share those thoughts pretty easily, regardless of how much institutional power they hold. There's a reason this is a blog, is what I'm saying.

Point is: saying any criticism is automatically wrong by virtue of being criticism (so long as you have mass appeal) is a pretty weak counter-argument. And it feeds into a culture where critical thinking itself isn't encouraged, because you don't want to be one of those critics who just can't have fun and enjoy things, do you?

Look, I'm not mad at Twitter user gobbledguck for their reply. I'm not going to say I don't care since…you know…this post exists…but I'm not mad about it. It's symptomatic of a larger, self-perpetuating problem. Which this book is part of, by virtue of this quote, and, in a larger sense, all of Cash Carter's "how dare people criticize what I, a highly public figure with a huge influence on impressionable minds, do while in the public eye" speeches. Which Chris Colfer is a part of too, by virtue of writing this book as a highly public figure with a huge influence on impressionable mind, and publishing it for consumption.

So no, I'm not mad at that Twitter user, but I am mad at this book for participating into a culture that makes that tweet a possibility, and allows this user to go on without questioning their own biases.

I feel like there's probably a better rant about anti-intellectualism and the rejection of all critics in me. Hell, I feel like there's a better rant about it in relationship with this book. But, well, this is a hot take on a tweet. Maybe I'll even regret it in a few days. I've had a streak of regretting some of my recent posts and all.

But what I'm pretty sure I won't regret is the main point, the tl;dr as we are used to saying here on the Internet: "No, it wasn't Shakespeare, but on the bright side, it wasn't Shakespeare" is more or less equivalent to admitting you have no interest in writing (or reading) a good story, and honestly, I feel kind of sad for you and your admitted creative bankruptcy.

Now I'll get off my high horse before someone points out to me that that Twitter account has all of four tweets, and the other three are dedicated to shipping Chris Colfer with his co-star, and I'm probably being played by a troll and/or falling on deaf ears with this one. Reviews aren't meant for the author anyway, and I suppose this is no exception.

Okay, that should be enough self-deprecating humor that this post doesn't come across as too insufferable. Now I'll go back to bitching about a popular TV show or something.

[atomic-r0x]

Lola's introduction to Common Knowledge

Two twin buildings on California Avenue, Seattle. Sixth floor, last door on the righthand corridor as you stepped out of the golden elevator. The familiar cherry red carpets, so soft and similar to the ones you’d see at JW Marriott hotels, the dustless still lifes signed by anonymous artists hanging from the white and gold striped walls. The way to Benedict’s apartment was still so accurately imprinted in her brain that Lola herself was taken aback by the ease in which she made her way from her taxi, past the lobby (where she’d greeted the same concierge she’d greeted last time around), off to the elevator, same pout checking her lip stain, same lean against the spotless mirrors, same impatient scroll through her Instagram before the elevator’s bell rang gently and the doors slid open. There was a time when she’d run all the way from the elevator to the end of the corridor, where Benedict’s door waited ajar, his tall slender figure waiting, hands in the pocket of his platinum trousers, skin radiating with warmth through the unbuttoned shirt. She’d take her heels off and feel her toes sink in the immaculate puff of the carpets, gravitating towards him at full speed. He’d smile with little but the corner of his mouth, and she’d just jump into his arms, legs locked around his waist, mouth hungry against his own. He was the tragically brilliant designer, she was the child who couldn’t be tamed. His bones ached for an age that had long passed, her body felt at home in the tumultuous mess that New York City is. “I’m leaving for Seattle, tomorrow afternoon.” Benedict informed her drily, pouring absinthe in his morning coffee like always, his bare upper body so raw in the morning light. She looked up at him from her bed, still sweating, but her eyes filled with what felt like resent. “Fine.” Lola had no time for feeling sorry, and deep down thought it wouldn’t last. But it did. He’d been living in Seattle for a longer than she’d expected, rarely ever being the one to endure the six-hour plane flight between them. She simply couldn’t abandon him, and Benedict new that all too well. The conversations were good, the parties were enjoyable, but the sex was glorious, and it was practiced like a sport. Reaching his apartment, she didn’t bother to knock, instead pressed the doorknob gently and stepped inside as if it were her own home, followed by a straight-faced bellboy carrying her luggage. “Oh, Jesus, Benedict” she coughed, wincing before making her way through the thick smoke that clouded his apartment. With a side nod towards the bellboy, she dismissed him with a look that might have meant ‘I’ll take care of it from here’, but God knows what she meant other than opening the damn windows as soon as possible. “I never knew you were so sensitive to your own bad habits.” Benedict replied ironically, his slender figure getting up from his desk, loafers and trousers on, shirt unbuttoned. Dark hair greasy but not dirty, messily parted to the side, reaching little beyond his ear lobe. The signature black Russian cigarette hanging from his bony fingers, eyes irresistible, mouth raised – as always – only at its corner. “Well, I’m not, but this place just stinks of smoke.” Lola snapped back as she reached out on her toes to open window by window, the silk curtains expanding as the wind blew in. She turned around, job done, to face him, his body still in the middle of his living room, hands tucked in his pockets, skin white as ever. “Do you ever button up your shirts?” Lola asked rhetorically, her voice suddenly low as her feet made their way towards him, and now their bodies were inches apart. “I don’t find the point in it” he just shrugged off, his right hand raising to her face, a calloused thumb rubbing her cheek gently. He’d always had this ability to devour her simply by looking at her, so deep she felt he peered right inside her skull, way beyond her eyeballs, catching a glimpse of her brain. A stare so deep it made her stomach twist in arousal every time. His thumb froze on her cheek for a few moments, and then he placed it on her lower lip – she bit it, of course she did, and he just huffed out a smirk. “You’re here for the party, aren’t you?” Benedicts voice was effortless and collected, his question, too, rhetorical. Lola nodded and stepped back from him, her body turning around and headed for the kitchen, tossing her jacket off on the way, but keeping her combat boots on. “Some of them have already come, but mostly they’ll be here with the two thirty flight tomorrow afternoon” the French girl confirmed, her eyes scanning the kitchen counter, picking up and tossing away various empty bottles or packs of Sobranie cigarettes. Benedict’s kitchen was populated by alcohol, packed in all shapes and sizes, rotten fruit and ashtrays, food clearly provided exclusively by room service. “You’ll like it, wait and see” she continued, tossing a grape in her mouth after examining its texture, somewhat surprised it wasn’t stale. “I bet” Benedict replied with an eye roll, pressing his cigarette butt into an ashtray. Rubbing his hands lazily, he walked towards the open-air kitchen, each step calculated like a tick on the clock. His tempo was unperturbable, the luxurious slow motion of his life outside the bedroom still a surprise to Lola. It took little strength to turn Lola around and hop her on the counter, knees spread to make room for his slim body between her legs. “New York’s richest kids start rave in Seattle. I’m gonna love it” he spoke in his forever low voice, each word separated by a bite on her neck, his hands firmly locking her hips in place. “You promised you’d come” Lola whispered, arms loosely draped around his shoulders, but before the realization of innuendo hit her, Benedict’s fingers were already clawing underneath her lingerie she wore as a dress, tugging down the panties she’d put on without a second planning to look provocative. It didn’t matter. “Yeah, I will.” Benedict’s hushed voice ringing in her ear, the hotness between her legs intensifying at a simple touch. +++++++ The venue itself was home to a high profile, exclusivist art gallery owned by one of Barbie’s uncles. It was roughly anything more than an enormous white walled industrial hall with a sound system his owner took great pride in. “It’s the stuff they use in Berlin nightclubs” he insisted on assuring the two girls, as if clubs throughout the States had less performant gear. The decoration process was over in a few hours, with a crew of event planners roaming around the two hundred square meters at disposal, bringing in and taking out bar tables, sofas, a DJ set that would match the aesthetic, a dozen lights to animate the dance floor. The bar was installed and the fridges plugged in, and with the music playing, volume down in the background, the hall needed nothing more than for Lola’s guests to come around. “God, look at this mess.” Barbie slurred with a glass of Martini in hand, the silvery shine of her dress tight against the dampness of her heated body. It was barely half past three at night and every single guest, from a to z, was far from sober or even remotely willing to stop dancing for a minute. Wearing sunglasses indoors, taking off pieces of clothing like they were playing poker, grinding to the tireless beats of the DJ booth, Benedict’s birthday party was a massive success. Only, he wasn’t there. Lola had been texting him the whole evening, and even tried to call a few times after it had gotten too late to be fashionably late, even for a guy like him. In a desperate attempt to reach him, the young girl called the concierge, begging to send someone to knock at his door and remind him he was expected somewhere else. “We’re sorry, madam” the overly polite middle aged man spoke in a perfectly calculated tone “but Mr. LeBlanc is not to be bothered.” She would have thrown her phone at the nearest wall, had there not been so many witnesses. It was exhausting, playing the host, smiling at the camera and seeming surprised this or that had actually made it to the party, while clutching her phone so tight in her hands it might as well have crushed. Lola told nobody she was leaving, but as she stood outside the industrial hall waiting for her Uber to come, she figured everybody was wasted enough not to notice her absence. She hadn’t told even Barbie, but the blond haired beauty was busy keeping the bathroom locked, celebrating Benedict’s birthday to the sound of Ingrid’s cries. Fuck them, for being this goddamn happy and easy to entertain. She’d had enough of it, and as she got inside the black Mercedes, Lola told the driver to turn off the radio. It must have been visible how angry she was with Benedict by the way the concierge let out a gasp he hadn’t had the time to contain. And goddamn right was she ready to rip his head off for what he’d done to her. No more leaning against crystal clear windows. No more pouts, no more scrolls. Just the urgent liberation from the black heels she’d been wearing, her feet moving quickly towards their goal. With a furious push at the doorknob, she was ready to storm in. But the door was locked. She could only admit that after repeatedly trying to slam herself against the door in the dumb, mindless hope that it got stuck in the puffiness of the carpets, or that something might have slipped underneath the mahogany door, stopping it from opening. It wasn’t the case, she resolved after exhaling and, with a last jolt of frustration and anger, she kicked the door with her foot, letting out a sound much like a battle cry coming from a soldier who was barely alive, or in excruciating pain. Lola felt her eyes tear up, and her vision clouded. Fuck you, Benedict. This was a bad joke, or a stupid protest, but regardless of how furious she was it’d even crossed his mind to do this, Lola found herself sitting on the floor, back pressed against the door. Thanks goodness nobody else was home, otherwise she would have never accepted to be this vulnerable on a corridor populated by his neighbours. It must have been almost five o’clock in the morning when she heard the door unlock, but even with all her senses acute, she couldn’t tell whether he was going to open it too. He did, she found out after waiting for a good five more minutes, and by now she was too exhausted to even fight him. When she did get up and open the door to walk in, the only light in his whole apartment was coming from the desk, next to which Benedict was smoking a cigarette in his armchair. Even with his back turned to Lola, she could see he was fidgeting with the cigarette between his bony fingers, sitting cross legged and staring into the distance through the glass walls that surrounded his living room from both sides. “You’re an asshole” Lola said, so loud it surprised even herself, making her instinctively press her palms against his ears. She still hadn’t adjusted from the chaos of the party to the stillness of his apartment. “Don’t act like it comes as a surprise.” Benedict finally replied, smashing the last bit of his cigarette into the ashtray. “You don't even feel bad about this, do you? What’s all these people coming all the way from New York City to celebrate your birthday? Who are all of these, your friends? Fucking hell, Benedict, I sometimes wonder why people even like you.” Lola spoke quicker and quicker, trying to pump herself up and get angry again at him, start a fight, show him how much he’d hurt her. But somehow, she couldn’t get herself in the mood. She couldn't fight him. “Maybe you should ask yourself that first” he retorted and got up from his armchair, turning off the only light that was switched on. “This was, all along, your party, not mine. But sure, I can be your pretext. I’m glad you asked.” His next words cut like a blade, and Lola felt the immediate urge to smash something, to hear shattered pieces fall to the ground, helpless before her wrath. But all she could do was stare in disbelief, watch him shrug off his shirt and head off to his bedroom, biting her lip so hard it almost bled. What a fcker.