#My shitposting is simply too genius to keep to myself

[oblivions-dawn]

"Beast blood" my ass

[innerclouds]

Questions to really go deep

1. Do you have more friends or acquaintances? No.

2. What emotion are you most afraid of feeling/ displaying? Depends on who’s company I’m keeping.

3. Have you ever experienced a “glitch in the matrix” moment? Deja vu? Constantly. Probably just signs of a stroke coming down the line.

4. Favorite term you discovered on Urban dictionary. I don't browse it so none?

5. What’s a subject you could talk about for hours? Politics.

6. What’s the difference between a type and a preference? I am not getting into this, this is a trap question.

7. What secretly scares you about society? I'd say but I'd be labeled for "wrong think" on this platform. Not that I haven't been already.

8. How bad is your FOMO? What is a FOMO?

9. What’s your spirit animal? Depends on the quiz thing I've taken, it's always different.

10. How well do you perform in school? About average.

11. What are your good habits? What are your bad habits? Washing hands. Biting nails.

12. What personal trait are you most proud of? I can doodle gud I guess.

13. What does your driving say about you? Paranoid.

14. What do you think is the weirdest/ creepiest societal norm? Man that's a long list. Again, it would get me labeled for "wrong think".

15. Favorite sound effect? None.

16. You have the power to divide the world by 2 to 4 groups of people, how do you divide them? With a battle axe.

17. What popular saying or quote pisses you have? The heck is a quote piss?

18. Are you cooperative or a contrarian? Yes.

19. Something a lot of people like that you HATE. Again, I probably shouldn't say.

20. There’s a website that rates and reviews your performance as a lover. What would the reviews for you say? 10/10.

21. What was “the incident” that happened at your high school or college? Which one? There were a lot of those.

22. Has there been a time where you wanted to speak up about something but held your tongue anyways? Gee I dunno.

23. A big risk you took that paid off. Short list.

24. A big risk you took that did not work out. Long list.

25. What’s your favorite historical event to research? Black plague. Actually did something for that as a subject for school once, it was entertaining.

26. How do you work your way into someone’s heart? Rib cage with a bone saw.

27. What food combinations do you enjoy that other people find weird? Not sure.

28. Have you ever had an encounter with law enforcement? How’d it turn out? With a rent-a-cop. About as well as you’d expect.

29. What book made you appreciate reading? All of them.

30. Are you toxic? Are you afraid to admit it? Oh no, I am absolutely toxic and I own it. Some say I'm hitler 2.0 because *gasp* I have differing opinions and tend to rely on facts and evidence. The horror!

31. Dumbest thing you’ve done in a foreign country? Haven't been in any of those. Unless Utah counts, in which, I went to Utah counts as dumbest thing.

32. What do you think is an unfair double standard between men and women? This is another trap question, especially with how it's worded, that I refuse to get into because it'll take hours and I simply cannot be arsed.

33. What’s your personal heaven? Full of eggrolls.

34. What is something that everyone should experience in their lifetime? Conflict.

35. How often do you change your mind on something you thought you were concrete on? Not often, but if you present solid evidence it will help sway me.

36. Is it easier for you to love or hate? What do you think this says about you? I'm an emotional sponge so both. Probably says a lot.

37. You have doubts about the person you’re romantically involved with, how does this get resolved? Don't have any doubts but if I did I would expect by talking it out.

38. Has there been a time where you thought you were helping someone but were actually enabling their worst habits? Possibly.

39. “Charlie” is short for “Charles” but both have the same amount of letters. What are your thoughts? I don't care.

40. To the person you’re asking these questions to: what is the best and worst things about them? Them being them is the best thing about them. Need more days off, heh.

41. Do you surround yourself with people that bring the best or worst out of you? The former.

42. What will inevitably lead to human extinction? Humans themselves, unfortunately it's taking far too long.

43. Is it better for someone to have a wide range of superficial knowledge or deep knowledge about a few things? Yes.

44. What if there were no professionals in any given subject, but everyone knew a little bit about everything? Okay?

45. How can we judge ourselves by our intentions yet judge others by their actions? This can lead to very murky waters and I'm starting to wonder if the OP has a personal slant on these questions, as far as I'm concerned actions speak and intentions are just intentions until they are actions.

46. Can we ever believe someone when they say their intentions are different from their actions? So that basically confirms it. Thanks for playing.

47. What if you could tell if someone’s intentions were truly transparent upon first meeting them? OP, stop it.

48. What is the biggest waste of human potential? That is an extremely long list, but somewhere around the top five? I'd say social media.

49. Would things get better or worse if humans focused on what was going well rather than what’s going wrong? Maybe, maybe not.

50. What benefits does art provide society? Does art hurt society in any way? Art will always benefit society and no, art does not hurt it at all.

51. When did you screw everything up, but no one ever found out it was you? Can't recall doing any of that.

52. How sneaky were you when you were younger? Or was it something recent that you messed up and got away with? See above.

53. What would you name your boat if you had one? Leaky.

54. What’s the worst commercial you’ve recently seen? Why is it so bad? The gillette commercial, you know the one, for obvious reasons.

55. What’s the closest thing to real magic? Love.

56. What is the craziest thing one of your teachers has done? Halloween, dressed as an escaped crazy person with actual chains, dragging them down the halls and scaring the crap out of anyone unfortunate enough to cross his path.

57. On a scale of 1-10, how strict are/were your parents? 7.

58. Who was your worst teacher? Why? Don't recall.

59. Who was your favorite teacher? Why? Either PE teacher and another down the line. They both understood.

60. Which would you pick: being world-class attractive, a genius or famous for doing something great? None of the above, fame is overrated.

61. What paper that you’ve written are you most proud of? See school subject on the black plague.

62. What would you do if you were invisible for a day? You mean I've not been invisible my entire life?

63. What actions in your life will have the longest reaching consequences? Rather not mention.

64. You’re the first human to interact with an alien and it’s non-hostile. What do you do? Too shy and quiet to make a proper first contact, probably doom our species to abrupt extinction as a result due to a misunderstanding.

65. Are you afraid? Who isn't?

66. To the person you’re asking these questions to: date, marry or kill? First two.

67. To the person you’re asking these questions to: where did you meet them? Next to a campfire outside a snowy tavern in the woods.

68. Can you describe your first high experience? Confusing.

69. Nice Wat?

70. Can you describe your worst drunk experience? Never again.

71. Post the 17th picture from your gallery. What gallery?

72. What was your favorite place you’ve been employed? What was your least favorite? None. Theater.

73. Do you value charm or intelligence more? Big meaty brains.

74. What worries you most about your mistakes? All of it.

75. What personal prisons have you built out of fears? Yes.

76. What is the most important thing you could do right now in your personal life? Long list.

77. If you could ask one person, alive or dead, only one question, who would you ask and what would you ask? I wouldn't ask anything.

78. What is your number one goal for the next six months? Improve.

79. If happiness was the national currency, what kind of work would make you rich? Shitposting.

80. Who or what do you think of when you think of love? Bae.

81. When you help someone do you ever think, “What’s in it for me?” No.

82. What’s the difference between settling for things and accepting the way things are? Virtually none.

83. How many of your friends would you trust with your life? One.

84. Is it better to have loved and lost or to have never loved at all? Depends.

85. Who do you dream about? Naked butlers.

86. What has been the most terrifying moment of your life thus far? Near car accident.

87. Are ghost or aliens real? In a manner, probably. Most likely.

88. Have you ever broken a bone? No.

89. What’s something you’re embarrassed to admit to try? Vegan meals.

90. Is your nationality a part of your identity? No.

91. Do you find your eye color unique? It can be.

92. Is there a song you enjoy from a genre that you don’t listen to? Multiple.

93. What is your sexuality? Triggering to some.

94. Is the person you’re asking these questions to an introvert, extrovert or an ambivert? Former.

95. What’s the sweetest thing you’ve done for someone? Roses.

96. What’s the worst thing you’ve done to someone? Something I can never forgive myself of.

97. When was the last time you’ve felt jealous? Why? Been a while.

98. Do you still think about your first love? No.

99. Would you want to live in the country you want to go on vacation to the most? Yes and no, they need to clean up their problems first.

[early-sxnsets]

Don’t @ Me

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18215168/chapters/43092371

Chapter 1/10 of It’s A Handheld Disaster

Word Count: 3118

Fic Summary: Teenage life is hard enough, but with the added weight of their lives, both Simon and Baz thrive online in a fandom for the British crime show, Gastrell, about the genius Huxley and his "flatmate" Sam. Through Tumblr, they find each other, and sink into something more than just being mutuals.

Chapter Summary: A shitpost is taken a little too personally, and an argument breaks out. In true Baz fashion, he seeks to prove himself right in the most ridiculous way possible.

BAZ

Morning routines are the most menial shit in the realm of existence of arbitrary tasks.

Everyone seems to have them, yet nobody really has a set one. For example, my step-mum has a long, seemingly pointless hour of simply facial cleansers, serums, and hair products. When I’d asked her years ago why she does it all, she shook her head and said “You’ll never be an aging woman, Basilton.”

I couldn’t quite argue with that.

Regardless, it’s a part of life. The routines. Wake up, morning routine, morning activity, eat, afternoon activity, usually afternoon snack, evening activity, dinner, night-time activity, sleep.

A boring, underwhelming cycle of the day.

Although, I suppose it’s shittier for me, since the homeschooling doesn’t give me a chance to do much besides sit and read. Of course, I have my car and I can drive off to whatever. Hell, father even suggested I get a job to occupy myself, but I don’t quite see the point given how much money we have (and the risk factors with moving around so frequently).

So, here I am. Finishing my classes in a matter of months, then having an entire year of pointless bullshit.

Needless to say, my entire day’s routine isn’t the most thrilling. Wake up at 10 on a good day, check social media and emails, then just lay here until I can’t wait to piss. Piss. Go to eat breakfast and get greeted by screaming children and my poor step-mum trying to wrangle them in. Go upstairs, go back online, see whatever’s on my dash, reblog some shit, then try to do something vaguely productive. Check Archive, check email again. Nothing’s on the emails, ever. Text Dev and Niall, who get awfully pissed since they are in school. Get more food. Eat. Bring tea upstairs, despite the disdained look from our maid (who hates collecting my piles of mugs). Write for a couple hours. Take an afternoon nap, if I please. Wake up and sit there (again). Maybe lonely wank. Go back to the bathroom, stare at myself in the mirror for a good few minutes. Sit on the toilet for half an hour for no reason besides the fact that my phone seems more interesting while sitting there as compared to sitting in bed. Sit then on the bathroom floor doing the same thing. Go back to my bed, listen to music on my phone and work on my laptop. Write, maybe scroll. Get dinner brought to me as they tut that I should be more active. Eat. Go downstairs for an evening workout (they’re right, I shouldn’t confine myself to my bed). Come back, do exactly what I do for half the day until I pass out somewhere around 3 am. Repeat.

Dream life for an 17 year old. Social life of a god.

Somewhat.

It’s shit to say (and sort of embarrassing to share) that there’s sort of a social media presence around me. Not quite the Instagram model bullshit, but based around fan life.

Yes, it’s a laughing stock. That’s where my popularity lies--a mixed grab-bag of various ages gathering around various platforms to enthuse about certain topics. And I’m somehow lucky enough to have the slightest bit of popularity here.

As in, a large following. A large, somehow active following.

It isn’t exactly thrilling as one would like to think. Sure, it’s fun to see a scattered group of regulars pop up, and I have my mutuals, but it’s a sad existence to sit around and make various shitposts with nothing better to occupy my mind. Or, at least, that’s what Dev and Niall tell me.

All in all, I blame Fiona. She’s the one who got me into the show, saying she thought the character was a bit like me. After I saw it, I found the three connections she’d grasped at.

Gay, dark-haired, and violinist.

As if that’s a rarity.

Yet, surely enough, I did love it. The cinematography, the characters, the storyline. It was intriguing--captivating.

It doesn’t hurt that the online community was still on the smaller side when I first got there. The show was only a season in when I made my blog, and I’ve stuck through all this bullshit to get me here. One of the regulars. Reposted everywhere, uncredited usually. Big fics, large interactions. Shitposts with thousands upon thousands of notes. I’m recognizable; a suggested name.

Don’t get me wrong, the attention is spectacular. I love interacting with people beyond this depressing household, and they’re usually fairly nice (usually) (except those ravenous for an argument). It’s just awkward to share at times when people ask why your mobile’s got 99+ symbols next to the apps and you just shrug and say “I’m shit at checking it” to avoid the conversation because most people see it as childish.

It’s a shame, really. Especially since I feel emotionally attached to these goddamn fictional fuckers.

I suppose that’s what makes it all the more personal, then. Even the shitposts mean something to me.

Which is what makes this is a long, winded way of saying fuck whoever’s arguing with me about whether or not Huxley is a fucking Ravenclaw. (He is. Hands down.) How’d I get here, staring at my mobile in disbelief at a brief back and forth post turned fight? Because it feels like a reasonable question to wonder.

I got here because, as almost all mornings, I woke up, opened my phone, read my notifs, then sat here, thinking of something. Anything. Then, in a tired haze, typed out a single text post on tumblr.

huxley gastrell is a ravenclaw send tweet

Following so, I went about my typical morning. Of course. Then--then--I check my phone as I’m going downstairs and I see it. I see the “@bi-sammy mentioned you in a post!” notif, then read the God-forsaken reblog.

@gaystrell op do you take criticism on your posts?

I frowned at my phone, typing out a quick response before tucking it back into my pocket.

@bi-sammy no.

What I hadn’t anticipated, though, was the reply I’d open up to soon after I’d started poking at my morning meal.

@gaystrell well too bad bc ur WRONG and ur opinions are UGLY

#he’s clearly a slytherin this is slytherin oppression #don’t tell me he and bryonie aren’t from a slytherin family

Now I sit, staring and completely awestruck at such a post. Now, I won’t deny Bryonie Gastrell is definitely, in all possible ways, a Slytherin. Cunning and ambitious as fuck, as any political spy may be, but fuck anyone who tries to dismiss Huxley’s clear Ravenclaw leanings.

It takes me a moment to fully process, mouth robotically chewing my eggs as I contemplate my answer.

@bi-sammy there is absolutely no proof of huxley being a slytherin and more than enough support towards him being a ravenclaw. get your clueless negativity off my blog, you utter tit.

With that, I settle my phone face down onto my table and try to enjoy my lovely plate of scrambled eggs, barely ignoring the boiling of my blood.

SIMON

My phone lights up with the new notification, dragging my attention away from my laptop as the words slide down onto the screen. “@gaystrell mentioned you in a post!” I hate to admit that I get a little pattering in my heart, urging my hand out to grasp the mobile as I pause the Youtube video currently playing. As I read his words, I slowly blink out of my excitement.

Tit. He called me a bloody tit.

Of course this fucking wanker called me a tit.

He must think that since he’s this big bad blogger, he can call me a tit right out in the open. (Although, he is talking to me, so that’s a plus) (No! No no no, bad validation, Simon. Bad). What, with his thousands of followers and fans of his own, he thinks he can try to say shit out in the open?

Fuck it. He’s either getting a DM or a bloody fist fight from me. I’ll take a train to wherever the fuck he lives (which is somewhere in England, since that’s what his bio says) (and his aunt lives in London, since he’s posted about visiting her) (I really do wonder where he’s from and how close he might be--what if I run into him one day?) (No wait fuck I don’t want that anymore).

Clicking on his blog, the little person drop down gives me the option of a message. I barely think as I type it out, vision going spotty from the adrenaline of the twinging anger.

bi-sammy: i swear to god there was no point to the battle of hogwarts if you’re just going to go around and absolutely slander the slytherin name and dare say that huxley is not one of them and, rather, is a ravenclaw

At first, I grin at it, watching my lone message appear into the empty chat. It’s so freeing--so powerful to send it. I pride myself, in the moment, for this solid move of communication. Of course I’m fucking proud. I messaged the arse myself and gave him a space to fight.

Maybe Penny’s right, I should dial down the confrontation, but it’s just the internet. Nothing important happens through a stupid little argument over Huxley’s true Hogwarts house (although, I’m sure I know I’m right in my heart), but it is a bit of fun to fuck around with someone. It’s a distraction. And that’s why I’m here, afterall. To have a distraction.

Penny thinks it’s a bit silly, but she doesn’t really complain. All she’s ever said was  “I thought we left fandom stuff behind us when we were 14.” She said it over lunch, watching me scroll through my at-the-time new tumblr.

It’s funny, I thought I did leave it behind when I was younger. It seemed unneeded as life shifted. I’d just found a stable foster home, with someone who was going to keep me for a while. I found Penny a couple months before I deactivated my old account. I was happy; we were free. I didn’t need a venting place.

Shits been sort of hitting the fan recently, though. No uni plans, David’s been getting more controlling, and of course, Agatha dumping me. It all crashed on top of me a few months ago, and somehow, the only place that I could find healthy coping was online. So, I started fresh. Made a blog and settled in. It’s not big, but I’ve had a few posts get noticed. I have a good few hundred followers, and one nice anon who asks me how I am every few weeks. It’s not a lot, but it’s comforting.

I feel at home here, even with a little discourse.

Well, only when the discourse is answered. Which, in this situation, I don’t know if it will be, given it’s been over an hour now and Baz hasn’t answered.

If that’s even his name.

It’s what his bio says, at least.

baz. 17. cisguy (he/him). gay. don’t interact if you think huxley is remotely straight.

I’ve wondered for a while what Baz stands for. He refuses to answer it in asks; he always says it’s too personal. He’s sort of odd like that--never posts pictures of anything that could be linked back. Seems sort of creepy, but then again, a lot of people follow him. It’s reasonable to want space.

Maybe that’s why he’s not answering. He probably wants space of some sort, but it’d be at least decent to answer someone who tried to have a discussion (that’s at least what I’m calling that message I sent--a discussion starter).

I frown at my phone, keeping it on silent as I slide it into my front pocket and settle into my seat in maths. I’ll say it--I sulk in class, a little bitter that I don’t have his attention (despite the fact that he seems like he’s always active online, which seems odd). Eventually, I exhale and try to let it slip away. There went my one interaction with him. My few seconds of the weirdest fucking bliss online, gone.

Then, it happens. As the class is ending, I pull out my screen just enough to see and there it is. A clear notification telling me he’d answered. Oddly enough, it’s just him sending me a link to a Google Doc.

Weird.

I ignore it for the moment being, letting myself ride the wave of relaxation that I actually got a reply. It passes my mind until I’m sitting in the back of Agatha’s car, listening to Penny and Aggie in the front talking about whatever’s on their mind. The rides are sort of awkward as of recently. At least Agatha agreed to drive me home (it’s a good 45 minute walk, if not) after some convincing from Penny, but her and I don’t really chat. It’s just the two of them.

Given that time, I have a chance to pull out my mobile and thumb through what was sent.

gaystrell: https://docs.google.com/document/d/175qFASmqD7hey8lE0eoE-6VhhFYE9DP6bpnI32Aay98/edit?usp=sharing

I click on it, not expecting that much (or, really, not expecting anything at all). Yet, the second it pops up and loads, my jaw drops.

“Jesus fuck,” I say aloud, scrolling through it. Penny turns her head, frowning as I stay locked on my screen.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“No--no nothing,” I say, waving a hand. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s got to be something for that reaction,” she says, keeping turned in her seat as she eyes me up. “Just tell us, Si.”

“I mean it when I say it’s nothing.” My voice gets quieter as I shift, reading the title. “It’s just fandom stuff. It’s really nothing.”

I hear her disgruntled huff as she turns back, mumbling something about me reacting too dramatically to this. “It isn’t even real.” It’s said under her breath, yet it still rings clear in my ears.

It isn’t really fake, either.

Hell, this is six pages of real. “Why Huxley Gastrell is, Without a Doubt, a Ravenclaw”. Shared by Basilton Pitch (is that his actual name?!). Fucking hell, it’s detailed to no ends. You’d think, with this much writing, there’d be pages of pointless filler where he’d just type “im gay hi huxley is also a gay we’re all gay here aren’t we”, but no. It’s full, grammatically correct sentences detailing his points.

It’s a bit much to read in the car, so I settle my mobile face down onto the seat as I’m left reeling. That… was a bit more than I’d expected.

Shit, did he write that for me?

This isn’t real. This can’t be real.

BAZ

Whoever says that having a flair for the dramatics is pointless has clearly never met me, because I wouldn’t quite call this masterpiece of an essay “pointless”. In fact, I should send it to academics. Rename it “A Study In Multi-Dimensional Characters and their Associated Generalized Personality Traits”. I’ll be hailed as a genius, as I deserve to be.

I crack my knuckles, and see the little person pop up.

Surely enough, it’s @bi-sammy’s name that he has listed online, Simon. It’s curious, he has his last name listed as “Snow”. Although, the smallest part of me believes it’s a pseudonym. Given our interactions, I doubt he’s clever enough to think of a solid pseudonym. And, even at that, why pick Snow?

Either way, it’s surprisingly endearing. Simon Snow. Sounds sweet. Sounds innocent.

I watch his cursor turn on, then his icon goes grey after a few moments. My heart starts to trip, making my cheeks begin to flush. Is… he ignoring this?

No. He can’t be. I put in hard work and dedication into this work, and I deserve the respect I’d sent into it. Fucking hell, three fully developed points (his devotion to intellectual work, his effort to step out of public light for Sam’s sake, and his overall lack of ambition for moving forward). I clearly set it out, and ended it properly; I’d proven that Huxley is a Ravenclaw. Case and point, opinion made, the end.

And, here I sit, watching him have the audacity to open it up then close it back. That was my hard work put in there, and he closes it? Who in the name of all that is sacred thinks he’s that above other people to the point where he just ignores--

Oh. He’s back on. Nevermind.

He’s… probably a school student. It’s roughly the time that most classes end, I suppose.

I make a mental apology to him, despite having never ranted directly to him in the first place.

He stays active for a good bit; long enough to show he’s reading. I assume that he’d just close off and message me, but after minutes, I notice a little highlighted comment pop up on the last sentence.

Simon Snow i………. owe you every single possible apology

Each word makes me grin like I haven’t in a while. A wide, cheek-creasing grin. There’s something so sweet to that--so personal. It feels like a note passed to me in a classroom under the tables. Like a cute “Blink if you like me”, although I doubt he has quite an intention.

Nevertheless, it warms my chest, sending my head back as I smile. I’m not sure whether or not it’s the satisfaction of winning, or his words, but I laugh outwardly into the room. It stays with me, reverberating onto my skin and my throat.

I look back at the comment, then leave it untouched. If he won’t remove it, then I won’t either.

With a glance at our personal messages tab, I figure that’s that. Even field, no more argument. No more interaction. It’s a bit of a shame, given the effort I’d just extorted for his sake, that he hasn’t answered in our chat.

While I’m disappointed to close off the document, I smile at it one last time. Sometimes I have to move on from random people, especially when they come on a bit strong.

Except, I find, moments later that I’m wrong about one thing--the moving on. He didn’t just stop his interaction, but instead made a public post.

“@bi-sammy mentioned you in a post!”

This time, I really laugh. A full bellied, hand-covering-mouth laugh.

i guess i have to suck @gayhuxell’s cock now because i was wrong and the bloody arse was right. huxley is a ravenclaw.

#fuck me i guess

I take a minute, rereading over his words a few times before typing a simple answer with my reblog.

i’m available anytime behind a mcdonald’s parking lot