#and then crying because it turns out nobody they know irl agrees with them

[baemy624]

Brain-napped

Hi! This is the ending of what would be my ‘first episode’ idea! I have a dozen patb story ideas, so I ordered them like a season (13 episodes, aiming at 12 minutes or so)

Please let me know your thoughts (in or ooc, ‘stage directions’, etc) 

Thank you! :)

Scene 6:

[Pinky finds his way to brain’s phone from the help of his animal friend(s)] 

[He then finds his way into Julia’s lair; it’s creepy and then completely goes dark; We only see pinky’s eyes and a screen turn on staticky w/o video appearing yet; 

There are audio clips of Brain insulting Pinky repeating all around him; They eventually stop and suddenly change to the presidential night when brain is controlling Julia and she’s going more insane; she lets pinky watch the clip for a bit then starts to talk over it]

Julia: Oh, yes, he has said some rather (*despicable, awful/mean) things, hasn’t he? Hmm? Say, well would you take a look here, Pinky? It’s the presidential debate! Oh, wasn’t that a fun [her brain shocks] night! 

Pinky: Oh, uh, yes… I guess it was… 

Julia: Guess? Take a closer look, Pinky... at what’s happening to my mind.

Pinky: You...you.. Aren’t looking so good, Julia… Poit. Did you eat some spicy food?

Julia: No, you dimwitted, little-- [clears throat]. No, Pinky. That little mishap was caused by a mind control device implanted in my brain by no other than your [sarcastic] dearest/trusted and most loyal friend--

Pinky: --The Brain? [looks speechless; voice cracking; some tears coming to his eyes; taking a few steps back] No, no. The Brain wouldn’t do this. H-He always told me--

Julia: HE LIED TO YOU, PINKY! ALL HE DOES IS LIE AND CHEAT HIS WAY TO VICTORY! [Screen moves closer to his face] DON’T YOU SEE, PINKY? BRAIN IS JUST USING YOU FOR HIS OWN SELFISH REASONS! HE WANTS NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU! HE’LL MANIPULATE YOU INTO HELPING HIM, BUT AS SOON AS HE SUCCEEDS, HE’LL JUST THROW YOU AWAY LIKE… Like me… [steps out into the light a bit]

Pinky: [Looks at her with concern; holding his tail but inches closer a bit]... Julia?

Julia: Don’t you see, Pinky? You can’t deny the truth. Brain is just using you, just like he used me. What’s stopping him from controlling your mind? Or any other mice? Or the entire world?!? You can’t trust him.

Pinky: But, Brai--

Julia: FORGET BRAIN, PINKY. [offers her hand]. Stay here, Pinky. We can destroy Brain and take the world for ourselves. [steps a bit closer] We can take our revenge for all the time’s he hurt us…

Pinky: [stepping back slowly; speaking slower then quicker as he is holding and shaking his head with tears going everywhere] No…. NonoNONOno! I can’t--I won’t do that, Julia! B-Brain would never hurt me like that. H-he wants to make the world a better place! Narf! Oh-Ah-ah-ahhh!! [starts crying more; and whimpers a bit; then after a few moments he looks up and takes the remote from Julia] 

Julia: Pinky?! [tries to tug the remote back] Hey, what are you--

Pinky: [sniffing and whiping his face] Hmm. Look here, Julia. [fast-forwards the screen to after the end of the mouschiarin episode where they’re in the cage reflecting on the failed plan and julia]

[Pinky and Brain on the screen following the last scene from ‘Mousechurian

Canidate’]

Pinky: Gee, Brain, why do you think Julia ran away? [gasp] Did you two break up?! [pupil/dilated eyes]

Brain: What? No, nothing like that.

Pinky: Then why?

Brain: I-I-I don’t know Pinky..erm.. [sighs; says quietly] Maybe I shouldn’t take over the world…

Pinky: [stops making the tea/coffee and looks over] Hm? Now why would you say that, Brain?!

Brain: Because...cause… [snaps] Ugh! For years I’ve been trying to take over the world! Every single night! Plan after plan after plan. And NONE OF THEM HAVE WORKED!? Maybe the world is playing some trick on me… right! Haha. Maybe I’m just some insignificant, stupid, little chess piece just moving back and forth but never really succeeding in anything I set out to do! [thinking about how he hurt Julia] I-I-I do want to make the world a better place but MAYBE THE WORLD JUST DOESN’T WANT ME IN IT?!... [quieter] and-and I just hurt everybody, just like the world has hurt me… maybe that’s why I’m such a failure... [looks down; holds himself in the same fetal position with his arms around his legs and head looking down; ears droop] 

Pinky: [gently taps brain on the shoulder] You are not a failure, Brain. [sits besides him] Sure, we might plan and go alllllll over the earth trying to ‘take over the world’ [scooches closer], but even though you don’t always win, you still write your plans and we get up every night and try over and over and over again. Troz. [Puts his hand on brian’s hand/shoulder/head] And I will keep following you all over the world for every plan you come up with. Do you know why, Brain?

Brain: [Looks at Pinky sideways] Why, Pinky?

Pinky: Because you’re my best friend in the whole, wide world. [grabs his cheeks] And there’s NOBODY else who I believe can make the world a better place. [grins; and hugs Brain] 

Brain: [Bit shocked, but subtly snuggles his head under Pinky’s head a bit more] Thank you, Pinky. [closes his eyes] 

Pinky: [wider smile and heart eyes; snuggles himself while hugging brain; whispers] I love you, Brain.

Brain: [eyes open; caught-off guard; bit flustered] I-I-uh… I really don’t know what I’d do without you, Pinky/my friend. 

[Pinky pauses the clip; Pinky in the screen and irl starts to tear up again

and whimpers with heart eyes; then turns around to look at Julia and takes

her hands]

Pinky: See, Julia? Brain isn’t as much of a super meany-bigheaded-sour mouse that you think he is. Troz! He’s my best friend! [holding his hands together and tucking under his chin; heart eyes looking at Brain on the screen]

Julia: [bit shocked for a moment; but shakes it away and tries to steal the remote back from Pinky] No! I don’t care what kind of trick you’re trying to pull on me, but it won’t work. Hmmm. I don’t need you, Pinky. I will defeat Brain all on my own---

[remote bumps into the light and brightens up the room, then hits where the memory download thing is on Brain’s head--thus setting the memory download thing down to 0%, then the remote hits itself into the screen]

Pinky: Ah! Brain!! [He immediately unties? Brain and jumps out of the window into the snow] Waaahhh!!?! [Woompf!]

[Pinky hits his head on a rock/tree and temporarily unconscious; Brain awakens from the snow and rubs his head while looking around at his surroundings]

Brain: [Dizzy; confused; hurt] Oh-Ah-Ah! [touching his face and looking around] I-I’m alive! Haha! I’m-- [sees Pinky; concerned and runs over to hold him] Pinky!?! Pinky, are you alright! [shakes and slaps him a bit, but not too hard]. Pinky, wake up this instant!! [wait a beat and his voice cracks]... Pinky? [hugs him and starts to tear up a bit]

Pinky: [Coughs up some snow comedically; takes a few deep breaths] Aah! Poo, poo! Disgusting [rubs snow off his tongue] No wonder people say not to eat snow off of the-- [notices Brain hugging him; gasps] Brain! [embraces tightly back] Oh, Brain! Troz! I’m so glad you’re alright. I-I was in this dark room and there were all of these big and s-scary screens and j-julia was saying all of these b-bad and terrible things about you, and-and-and--

Brain: [eyes moving subtly and very concerned at Pinky; bit thrown off by the Julia thing; but he hears some footstep behind him; whispers to Pinky] Shh, Pinky… [puts finger over his mouth] I sense someone is approaching us… 

[They look around then to their left as a mind-eraser beam shoots them from the top-right; they are briefly shocked then turn to face each other eye-to-eye before screaming and falling backwards]

Brain: [Brain bumps his head into a rock; we see a spark go off from the mind-control chip in his Brain; he rubs his head] Oww!

Pinky: Ah! Egad, Brain! How did we end up in the middle of this c-cold and s-s-swirly whirly blizzard! I don’t think we’re in the lab anymore…

Brain: [sits up] Of course we’re not in the lab you imbecile, we’re-- [looks up but only hears the snow and wind] … I have no idea where we are. [hears footsteps again and tries to protect Pinky] Be careful, Pinky. There might be a deadly predator approaching us…

[they hear a rustle in some grass then the creature jumps out towards them; they scream for a moment while holding onto each other; Brain is more afraid than Pinky]

Pinky: [chuckles to himself] Oh, look, Brain! It’s a deer! Narf! Hello there little red-nose deery friend! Do you know the way back to our cage-home? [maybe talking w/ some big gestures like a tourist lol]

[deer nods enthusiastically and pants like a puppy]

Pinky: Oh, yippee! [clears throat] May we have your help for di-rec-tionss? [also big gestures]

[the deer agrees then picks them up w/ their teeth and toss them onto their

back then starts running towards the lab]

Brain: AAAaaaAAHH!! P-PINKY! We should definitely get back to the lab before t-tomorrow night!

Pinky: Weeee! Ahhhh! Why Brain? W-what are we gonna d-d-o tomorrow night?!

Brian: [eyes getting misty from the speed and holidng onto the deer] Brrr.. The s-same thing we d-d-o every night, Pinky. Try to take over the world!

[‘Camera’ shot then pans above with the deer running closer to the lab]

[But then then final shot is julia turning off her mind-eraser beam and walking towards her screens]

Julia: Hmm, that oughta do it. Pinky may have refused my offer for now [checks her screen says the mind-control chip is 100% completed/installed] but perhaps we should start again on a clean slate….heheh.

[veralovemail]

Hi! I would love myself a matchup if it's ok 👉👈

I'm female and pan, I'd prefer one of the males tho, Survivors please!

So uhhhh I differ in my personality a lot depending on the situation! I'm more of a loner around strangers IRL— shy, quiet, I don't like interacting and prefer to stay by the sidelines since being in the middle makes me uncomfy.

I try to be as polite as I can, even keeping in my opinions and pain a lot as to not Hurt anyone. I also tend to blame myself a lot for bad situations I'm a part in unless I know I absolutely didn't do anything!

Also I'm quite hot headed and have a bad temper, though I'm working on it! I have quite the problem with guilt and it comes to me fairly quickly when I do something bad.

Ah yeah I'm really forgetful and also really impatient KNRKS

Now- online!!

I'm a lot more open and chaotic. I like to tease my friends and jokingly make fun of them, etc. I try and stop when they tell me to, but I might understand it as them just joking too if they write it that way in my eyes-

I try to look on the positive side for them and their situations and am always willing to make someone happy even without words since it makes me happy too. I'd say I'm caring to a fault- I don't let loose until they finally do something healthy that they've been avoiding and I do get rather angry if I'm not taken seriously with that, causing me to maybe lash out at someone unwillingly,,- and then guilt pops in like "hi there 😍" KDHDJDJ

Anyway,

I encourage anyone to vent, though I'm not the best at giving advice. I'm more of a person who likes to listen and give support if they need it. Oh yeah- my attention span is REALLY short (as short as me good ol' 5'1 me aNENSJJSJD) so I get distracted pretty easily and procrastinate then.

As for hobbies: I love to draw! (As you might know-)Music is my life (especially Jazz) and video games are, too. Though mostly singleplayer Games since I only really like multiplayer with friends-

What else can I write..

Maybe like- I'm an ISFP-T And I think it was 5w6 that I was given by another test

I also got Philophobia, the fear of falling in love because of bad experiences but I'm tryna work on it!!

I guess I can also write about my appearance? I've got short, curly but chaotic black hair that's p much swept to the side- I'm definitely not that skinny lmao- and as I've said before, I'm 5'1! I usually wear casual clothes (hoodies, e.g!! They're so comfy...) I also got brown eyes and glasses!

I think that should be it.. ah yeah! In your introduction, you should prolly add your ID for others to add you because name search doesn't work! :0

Ok that's really it now- take your time, don't rush yourself and stay safe and hydrated!! 💕💕 Hope your blog takes off!

Sorry for my English by the way- I'm German so I might've messed up on a few things!

OH MY LORD I DID NOT KNOW THAT I HAD TO PUT IN MY ID... oml... thank u for telling me that. and don't worry about it, i can see how it'd be difficult (i actually studied german for my gcses :], it was very fun) but anyways! tysm for sending in btw!! i loved writing this, i hope u enjoy - mod vera ♡

i match you with ... naib subedar!

he kinda takes on to your quiet personality, unlike some of the other people around the manor. it's relaxing to be around somebody who doesn't talk much.

you two most likely met when robbie came over to the survivors' side of the mansion, jokingly demanding sweets... but it most likely sounded authentic. and oh god, is that an axe-

you two accidentally locked eyes but you both had a " ah shit, here we go again " face. it just kinda went from there.

at first, he's a tough nut to crack, but if you try hard enough, within a month or so you gain his trust and he .. deems you a friend?

you both kinda start falling for eachother after a period of time, but naib is great at hiding it BUT SIKE, so are you! it's like a game of who can pine for the other in the most subtle way possible.

however, if you tell him about your own troubles with falling in love, he may just open up a little too about his own troubles.

it's takes a while for you two to build a relationship, but eventually (after a lot of rescues, late night hangouts and just being near eachother) you make it!

when he learns about your more chaotic side, naib tries to keep up with you as best he can, he may just need a little tug to do so.

he loves your smile, especially the one you have when you're talking about your passions.

he also tries to help with your temper, but he's just as bad as you are.

however, he's there whenever you have a bad day - he can almost instantly tell, even if you try keep it to yourself. it could be the way you look at him, try to smile or talk, he does notice the change in your aura.

since your shorter than him, he likes holding you. it makes him feel like he's just protecting you from anything and anything, especially on one of your bad days.

he likes your optimism, looking on the good side of every situation. he once saw you trying to comfort robbie when he started crying about not finding any sweets around and you told him "look on a brightside robbie! now we know for next time to stash some away for you before we eat it all!" AND OH GOD, IS THAT AN AXE?

naib gets frequent nightmares about his time being a hired merc, so sometimes you may get woken up at 3 am because he's a bit distressed and needs a bit of comfort.

other times, he just finds holding you while you're fast asleep enough to put him back in a coma for the next 2 hours.

naib also encourages you to talk to him about stuff. whether it be what made you mad, how much of a bitch vera can be, ect. he's there for you and that man is never gonna let you carry your burdens alone.

saying that, you also have to remind him that he can't carry his own burdens sometimes and when you encourage him to talk to you about what's upsetting him, he'll most likely tell, depending on how bad it is.

he also grounds you a lot!! if you tell him about your forgetfulness, he's most likely going to try and remind you.

" hey, [ name ], you did bring [ item ] into the match, right? "

" um... "

" goddamnit [ name ], i thought i reminded you "

naib takes it upon himself to rescue you, or keep you within his general vicinity if you're in a match with him. he does know you can kite very well though! he just wants you near him for a bit of reassurance.

he can be mean sometimes, but he means it in the most endearing way possible since most of it is sarcasm.

you two kinda have " stab as a warning " vibes so nobody really opposes the two of you. even norton. not even freddy dares to oppose you because the last time he did, aesop almost had to prepare his equipment to embalm the poor fella.

when you lash out at someone, naib is there almost immediately to take you away to calm down and comfort you when your guilt kicks the door down and goes " Hey girlie! Hold still 😎 "

sometimes you have to do the same for him because you both have a tendency to lash out.. but.. never at eachother? you two kinda agree on the same things, there isn't much to exactly disagree on.

please draw him!! watch him while he's training in the garden and draw him, or just a few silly doodles of him.

he likes looking at your drawings, it kinds boosts his ego knowing that he's worthy enough to be drawn.

if he finds out that you like music, he'll tell you about nepalese music, or at least what he knew of it - if you both get engrossed in it, he may try and get you some records to play.

teach him how to dance, if you can. it'd make listening to music together way more fun.

he's very content with you!! he likes kissing you out of nowhere, too. you could just be chilling and naib would come up to you, turn you around and give you a smooch outta nowhere. but only in private.

i feel like neither of you would be big on pda, you just stick to holding hands around the manor.

if this were in a modern setting, you two could probably play a game like phasmaphobia together just for funsies.

all in all, your relationship with naib is mutually beneficial and robbie has learned to never ask for sweets again.

i hope you enjoy this <3 it's my first time writing naib too so i apologise if it's not very good </3

[bigtittyhimmler-blog]

Who Goes Nazi? Brooklyn Edition

If you’re anything like me, a twenty-something Twitter leftist with an advanced degree in the humanities, you hate absolutely everyone around you and badly want to kill them. You live in a brownstone playground of Timorese food and adult coloring books, and you want to suicide bomb the L train but leave a note blaming it on manspreading or whatever, so people don’t think you’re one of “those” random mass murderers (the bad kind). You hate having to tell people at parties that you “work in content,” and you hate the fact that they all also work in content. You hate that they all make content for outlets that are slightly cooler and more prestigious than the outlets you make content for. You hate that none of them have even fucked you for like thirteen months. You hate that you can’t even hate them for the ways in which they’re different to you, because there aren’t any. But fear not! There’s one thing you’ve got that nobody else does: you know that you’re definitely, 100% Not A Nazi.

But what about them? Imagine if the Nazis took over America and it was suddenly cool and prestigious to be a Nazi, and there were trendy Nazis on the TV the whole time, and they once again sold soap with slogans like “Dove: The White Pride Soap for Hating QTBIPOC and Not Amplifying Their Voices.” But also don’t imagine, because that’s exactly what’s happening.

 This game was invented by Dorothy Thompson in her classic 1941 Harpers essay Who Goes Nazi?, in which she presciently pointed out that intellectuals are definitely more Nazi than aristocrats, but not nearly as Nazi as union leaders. But she set her essay at some dinner party in the Hamptons or wherever, and last time I went out there I went swimming in the sea and a wave hit me and I lost my bikini top and a bunch of bros in boat shoes started laughing and pointing at me in a way that despite my white privilege I still feel was somehow like imbued with racism, and then afterwards I just stayed inside for three weeks writing content and ordering groceries online, so the setting needs to be updated. Let’s look at your group DM. Which of these Twitter creatives who live in Brooklyn would go along with it and become a Nazi? (All of them.) And who never, ever would? (Me.)

 Mr A isn’t actually in your group DM, and you’ve never encountered anyone like him irl, but you literally can’t stop talking about him, so he gets included anyway. Mr A is a short ugly loser, and he’s already a Nazi. He doesn’t even live in Brooklyn, he lives in his mother’s basement, and eats chicken tenders, and he doesn’t get laid, but in a different way to the way you don’t get laid, which has to do with patriarchy. Mr A is a Pizzagate. Mr A is a Gamergate. Mr A is a segregationist. Mr A opposes the reforms of the Emperor Diocletian (284-305). Mr A won’t shut up about the superiority of a “free silver” bimetallic monetary system over gold specie, and keeps on talking about the “gold shills” in a way that doesn’t really make sense until you realize that your own name is Goldschmidt, and yeah, he doesn’t really care about expansionary monetary policy at all, he’s talking about the Jews, and specifically you. Mr A is basically a pathetic worm whose life sucks and nobody likes him, but also he represents the whole of the repressive forces of society and he’s at the top of the social hierarchy. Everyone you’ve ever met is actually Mr A, wearing various masks. He is the source of all your problems. He must be killed, and once we kill him, we need to find more people like him to be the source of any problems we have left over.

 Mr B is in your group DM, but you also have a separate group DM with everyone else except Mr B in it. He keeps trying so hard to be nice, and says stuff like “so how is everyone’s day today” with a smiley emoji, and when you’re talking to him you get this airless feeling like you’re about to suffocate in his treacly good-natured presence. Every time you see Mr B at a party you’re afraid that he’s going to blurt out that he loves you, but you can’t keep your distance too much because he’s so clearly autistic, and you don’t want to be ableist. Anyway once in the group DM he said that while he obviously thought divining for water with Y-shaped copper rods was good and important and valid, he didn’t understand what it had to do with socialism. That made everything better, because clearly he’s a Nazi. The whole group DM expended hours of emotional labor educating him about how dowsing is part of LGBTQ+ culture and how his dismissive bro-y attitude was reactionary and gross, and eventually he posted a video of himself crying and begging for forgiveness and promising to do better, because you guys were the only friends he had. This was classic white fragility, but in the end you let him stay. You just have the other DM now, where you make fun of him and it’s ok, because if the Nazis came and he had license to start being cruel and sadistic to other people, he’d definitely do it.

 Ms C is one of those women who doesn’t like other women, and you know this about her because you can’t fucking stand the bitch. Plus she says stuff that’s really not ok, even though it costs nothing to have empathy and be kind. You’ve personally heard her use the D-word, the H-slur, and the L-pejorative, all while laughing and holding a glass of white wine by the stem, like she doesn’t need to consider the harm this does to others, just because she’s “funny” and “an artist.” She’s the Cool Chick. She makes nude self-portraits (the bad, skinny kind), and she’d throw you under the bus in a second for male attention and approval. She’d definitely go Nazi. But the worst thing about her is that she has the impudence to be bisexual and Asian, which makes it really hard to call her out. But then you realized that all Asian people are collectively responsible for the long history of anti-Blackness and misogynoir in their communities, and you’re thinking of holding her collectively responsible for the Rape of Nanking too, once you’re certain she’s a sushi Asian and not the dim sum kind.

 Ms D’s boyfriend works in finance, or like accountancy or something, or I think I heard he was a musician? Maybe a drummer or possibly he used to bartend at a place where they had live music. Anyway they definitely have vanilla cishet sex in the missionary position and you can’t stop thinking about it, his body, her body, naked, moving, breathing, together, almost silent, tender, disgusting. She says she’s a socialist but doesn’t devote every minute of her waking life to getting mad about people online. This means she’s just vaguely following a trend, and if the trend were being a Nazi (which it is), she’d be a Nazi (which she therefore is). You can’t imagine yourself actually hitting her but it’d definitely be punching up to maybe poison her food?

 Mr E used to be a comrade, but then he did a tweet that got 38.6k RT’s and now he’s moved to Los Angeles to spend his whole time in writers’ rooms. Last you heard he was pitching an animated show for adults about a snail with borderline personality disorder. It hasn’t even been greenlit yet, but you’re already thinking about all the ways in which it will be a missed opportunity and do harm and perpetuate tropes. Mr E will definitely turn out to have been a Nazi, and then you can start an anonymous petition to get the show cancelled so he has to move back to New York. Once he’s back you can send him a long email about how much it sucks his career burned out and how (even though you won’t say it in public) sometimes people do actually take the social-justice thing too far. That way he’ll be a comrade again, which is good, because we believe in rehabilitating people who have a genuine change of heart.

 Mr F probably thinks he’s better than you. He’s a union organizer. So are you (you added “#Unionize” to your Twitter name), but his union stuff involves workers who aren’t in tech, content, or grad school, and he probably thinks that makes him more in touch with “the real workers,” who he probably thinks are just a bunch of cis white males in a factory, who are probably all racist and probably have thick, heavy dicks that intrude on your mind in a kinda #MeToo way a lot of the time. He talks about class, and you agree that class is important because you’re not a lib (you support Bernie, you just want him to Do Better). But from the way he says it you’re certain he doesn’t acknowledge all he/him lesbians as part of the working class. He’s trying to save a tiny sector of the workers from a necessary and important socio-economic shift that will impoverish them and make their lives worse, and that’s what being a Nazi is. This is why his union needs to stop dragging their heels, change all of their rules and priorities, and let you get him fired.

 Ms G (me) will never go Nazi, because she is beautiful and kind and pure, and has all the good opinions instead of the bad ones. Because of this she’s allowed to do things that other people can’t do. She can totally fail to understand what having an authoritarian personality actually means, and construct a version of the Who Goes Nazi? essay in which the people who go Nazi are just people who are already right wing, having confused politics with personality, probably because she herself has no personality other than her politics. She can minimize, ignore, or even encourage the infliction of actual suffering when it happens to the wrong kind of people. She can write that “nothing that terrible has really happened” since the publication of Mark Fisher’s Exiting the Vampire Castle, even though Mark Fisher himself is mysteriously not around to appreciate that fact. She can do some shit with threatening to leak an unedited draft that I don’t even want to go into. She knows that the Nazis don’t come promising hatred but promising to be your friend, but it’s ok because she doesn’t really have any friends, just mufos. She’s doing great. She’s building a better, kinder world. She will never, ever be the Nazis.

[derekscorner]

Between KH2 and KH3, which game did you like more, both story and gameplay-wise?

Ah is this that KH2 vs 3 debate I hear is ongoing? Well if you’re in for a sit I can answer that.

Gameplay:

From this angle I quite bluntly find KH2 Final Mix more fun. I’m not going to argue what was arguably better or worse, gameplay preference is a matter of…well preference no matter how many wish to deny this fact.

Not that you do but I”m sure some lover or hater of one will see this and try to retort. o3ob

Anyway; I felt Kh2 final mix was more technical and “harder” if I had to describe the feeling. Like 3 KH2 is normally overly easy but when put on critical mode it’s technicalities shine.I had to learn tactics, I couldn’t spam X or △, and I learned uses for summons. Which I found ironic since the 2 summons are far more useful when you dont initiate their moves.

Like if I let Stitch wander the screen he’ll deflect projectiles and keep my MP full. Chicken Little is a great early Magnet substitute and Peter Pan+Tinker Bell gives you a Phoenix Down.This was an improvement to KH1 in which only Tinker Bell was a spell with decent combat use. 1′s other summons had more supplemental uses imo.

KH3′s summons were nearly win buttons I felt. Simba in particular, while damn spectacle, felt broken. I never bothered to learn them as I didn’t need them. Which I’m sure they have their own uses but I’m not really fond of many control schemes for them so I opt out of it.

In terms of the magic system I felt 2 and 3 were opposites. In KH3 magic is far too powerful, something many have noted. And while you dont ‘have’ to use it that’s not an excuse for a problem. You should choose not to use it not force yourself to ignore it for challenge.

KH2 on the opposite spectrum made magic nearly useless I felt. Many enemies didn’t stun nor have elemental damage. Fire’s AOE animation was good for early Critical game and Blizzard helps that first Hollow Bastion visit but many enemies shrug the base spells off later.In contrast, KH2′s Magnet and Thunder spells can be OP. Reflect in of itself is practically the only spell you’d ever need to use due to it’s nature.

So while many have long rants on either’s magic system I dont really think one trumps the other. each one is equally flawed with issues I dont see ever being addressed.

In terms of keyblade combat I preferred KH2′s because I felt like Sora was automated in 3. I spam X cause I’m a scrub at timing presses (DMC5 is helping me overcome that) and due to this I noticed real quick that Sora’s combos just felt really automated.

Like I’d press X for one hit and get three. In contrast, KH2′s combat is harder. Sora animates combos as fast as my lazy ass can spam X and I’m not floating around like a final fantasy god.

I’m not really sure how to put this feeling into words but I do feel Kh2 keyblades are funner or snappier to combo whereas in KH3 I’m playing a watered down FFXV with it’s hold/press X for combo string.

Both games are so similar outside this issue that I dont see no reason to list likes or dislikes. If anything, from here, KH3 had great quality of life changes. The menu system was easier on the eyes and I’d be a damned soul if I didn’t admit I like switching keyblades mid-combat.

I also really appreciate KH3 finally using Re:Coded’s keyblade ideas. It’s been there since that DS game yet no one every expanded on making keyblades unique since. It was a very foolish step backward to me.

I love that keyblades level up, I love that each one has a preference and the only way that could’ve been better is if they adapted Coded’s system entirely and gave each keyblade (or most) it’s own unique combo.

KH2 quite frankly just falls short in a hindsight perspective since keyblades were “stat sticks” and you only ever chose weaker ones for an ability. Which, back then, was a huge step up from KH1.

So KH3 wins in this area I also dont really hate on Kh2 for it since KH2 is a product of the era. This idea of keyblades growing with you didn’t happen till Re:Coded.

As for Shotlocks…I dont like them. I hated them in BBS and I hate them here. It’s not even a comparison to KH2 type of opinion. I hate Shotlocks, I never use shotlocks so I’m going to skip those.

I mean sure, KH2 had limits but the only limits I use are Knocksmash so I can’t exactly praise KH2′s half of that either.

And when it comes to Forms vs Transformations I think both have pros and cons the other lacks. For example, some Transformations are really cool, I love the hammer weapons or the dual pistols.

I also believe the staff transformation is what KH2′s wisdom form should’ve been in terms of how it does magic or basic attacks.

That said, I also really dislike many second forms keyblades have. I never evolve the pistols into the bazooka, I never turn the hammer into the drill, I have those second forms. It’s to the extent I prefer keyblades that have one form such as the staff.

I’m also not fond of the Kingdom Key’s 2nd form change. It’s a neat throwback and I love the outfit recolor but I dont find it fun to use.

Between the two games my favorite forms are Valor Form, Anti-Form, and the Staff Transformation. Odds are I wont use anything else unless I feel particularly bored.

I might use others more often if KH3 forced me to rely on them for tactics but as of right now it does not. This may change with 3 gets it’s Critical Mode DLC. Similar to how KH2FM forced me to rely on forms I hate like Wisdom or Final.

As a concept I will admit that I dislike transformations. I dont like the idea of keyblades becoming magical swiss army knives. KH3 pulled the idea off better than I expected but I dont like it all the same.

The only, and I mean only, thing I felt KH2 did better was tie forms to a meter. In KH3 the commands appear randomly (and often) and I dont gain consequences for using them.

In KH2 this was tied to your Drive Gauge. You had to plan what you used and this is an issue I felt KH3 had as a whole. Rather than shotlocks, I’d have preferred that Focus Gauge to be reserved for my summons and forms so that I could have better control of what I picked and to reduce how broken they are in-game.

The rest is miscellaneous opinions so I’ll rapid fire:

Gummi Ships: always hated them, BBS did Gummi Ships best. Point goes to KH3 here since I can at least skip most of it.

Minigames: I’ve never found a KH minigame fun. No one wins here

Worlds: KH3 wins this aspect too. World towns have actual people in them and when it uses original plots the worlds are quite good. I also appreciate the power to explore and soft platform again. It gives me a more immersive feeling than later titles ever have. (although I feel KH1 was still better than both here)(entirely because of how many small details/cameos/secrets a KH1 world had compared to sequels)

I dont really have a more technical opinion than that. I do however think Arendelle was a horrendous world and I hate to even be there. For a myriad of reasons….reasons that would be a rant post of it’s own.

Lil Chef: I never use the food. I dont care if it’s a good spot for ingredients. If I want to cook stuff I’ll do some irl or play FFXV.

Enemies: KH3 used nobodies more than KH2 did and I find that a damn crying shame. I also felt Unversed were underutilized. KH2 still takes the point here due to the combat points I mentioned above.

KH3 fodder is prettier and can be more elaborate but KH2 is funner to play and destroy them in so KH2.

The Disney Rides: I don’t use them, they break the game. I do like the choo choo though since it’s situational to specific battles. KH2 has nothing akin to these so there’s no comparison, I just wish the rides could be disabled or that they worked more like the train. (set to key fights)

KH2 vs KH3 Commands: Eh both aren’t that good. KH3 spams you commands to shift through and KH2 has so many for spectacles sake that the games get easy. There is no winner here, if anything KH2 should’ve restricted these like KH3 restricts the Train ride summon.

Final Fantasy: I dont like FF games but I consider the ones of Kh1 part of the main cast. Their alternate KH selves are important to me. The lack and fading of FF over the years is quite honestly something I dislike and 3′s total lack of them is inexcusable to me. KH2 takes this point since I got to at least meet Leon and crew again.

Then there’s the story.

Anyone that’s followed the blog or met me knows I strongly dislike the direction of KH’s story. It’s not a matter of things others debate, I do not like it. I hate it and I’m still teetering on quitting.

I wont even go into the points cause I’ve made a whole series of posts about my story gripes. I wont link them since this isn’t a shameless plug, I just want to iterate that my issues with the story has driven me to make 20+ tangents plus the older more angry rants.

Others liking it is fine I think, I get easily annoyed if someone tries to excuse something out of nostalgia or adoration, but generally anyone that likes it while admitting faults or agreeing to disagree is fine. (you do you folks)

If I had to rank them I feel KH2 is where a lot of issues started and I feel a lot of issues got worse after since the sequels tried to “fix” that mess. If left alone KH2 would’ve been a poorly written entry and a good stopping point for any disillusioned fan.

KH3 as a contrast tied up everything after 2 up til 3 itself. I do not consider the story good, the pacing is very jarring because it lacks a mid point, it’s weighed down by all the BS prior to it.

I do not feel attachment for the “trios” of the series, I find the repetition of them annoying. I find it a shame most have more dev time than the originals they’re cloned based on.

And I frankly dislike Xehanort as a villain. He’s not interesting, his motives seem to switch with several report entries and I dont eve get the satisfaction of ending him like I did Xemnas or Ansem.

I was entirely indifferent to the entirety of this game’s narrative as I played it. Something that worried my friend @blackosprey because I was so tired I could not even care enough to hate it.

I did fine the trios reunions well done. I dislike them for a list of reasons but they were coming back anyway, their fates sucked prior, so those were well done. I finally felt hype when the LW appeared (only to vanish, fuck you nomura) and in the final battle.

The ending was confusing to me. So many got a happy ending so I fail to see the logic of Sora vanishing. The Luxu reveal, which I found fucking hilarious, was the only sequel bait needed.To have Sora just up and die felt like a stupid decision and I’m sure many more found it insulting.

And when mentioning Luxu I dont mean it in a sarcastic fashion. I genuinely find him funnier in retrospect due to this retroactive change. Nearly every line or scene he’s said is now funny as hell because he’s this ancient troll. I consider it the first legitimately earned twist Nomura has made in ages.

Still, KH2′s writing and story isn’t great either. I could rant why, I have ranted why, but despite it’s flaws it was an “ending” to me.So if asked 2 or 3 I will pick 2. The writing in Kh2 is bad for lots of reasons but if I ignore the Ansem reports it’s no a story about Xehanort.

Ignoring one KH2 report let’s me live this simpler story of Sora and a scientist gone mad and the journey to stop him. It had a lot of stupid things or one of the worst “twists for twists sake” moments ever in the ‘two ansems’ reveal.

But still, I can play Kh2 and be in a KHverse where Xehanorts, Keyblade Wars, Ceremonies, timelines, sleeping worlds, data world abuse, and clones upon clones dont exist.

It’s not nostalgia so much as everything I came to dislike was post KH2. KH3 was all about these things I dont like. My favorite for key and nostalgic reasons is KH1, my pick of the question is Kh2.

KH3′s best assets that can’t be contested was it’s graphical evolution. I played KH3 three times back to back due to this, I came away from KH3 wishing KH1 or 2 looked like this. No game prior contests the look.

So all in all, as I reread this, it’s largely a mixed bag. Neither game is grand but I prefer KH2 because combat is more fun to me and it’s not tied down by a narrative and mythology I’ve come to hate.

I can play KH1, CoM, and KH2 and never be annoyed about something I loved going in a direction I hated.

[anerbananers]

Listen, I don’t care

idc who you stan, who you hate, if you ship them or don’t whatever. You don’t have to ship them to understand this. I only appreciate them as rivals and this is hitting me in the face and making me FEEL things y’all. 

the writing of the scenes in episode 23 and just izuku and katsuki’s relationship in general is INCREDIBLY nuanced, complex, and well done! A lot of rivalries in shonen are shallow in comparison to this.

Remember this is targeted at young boys! It’s SUPER important to show them what an inferiority complex looks like, what imposter syndrome looks like. How someone can be a GOOD PERSON and still do BAD THINGS. How not to let people walk all over you. Both of these boys cry and you SEE their tears, feel their emotions. And the mentors in their lives are also there to guide them too. For young boys to see this, I think, is important. This isn’t JUST about jealousy. IJS, this is some grown shit. ADULTS IRL struggle with this. Like, Bakugou’s entire perception of Izu is warped by his insecurity. This shows how intentions and perceptions can be so WAY off. Why communication is important.

And what I love is that Horikoshi makes sure you KNOW the adults and teachers know they have a part to play in this. And it’s a theme of the story that the adults have created some hefty issues here and even if they didn’t start this, they have to take responsibility and properly guide these kids. Not just between these two boys, but in general, culturally. When you have a hero system that has emphasized might over rescue this whole time, it creates this kind of confusion! At this point in the story the hero franchise (b/c it’s a business really) is changing it’s model due to All Might’s retirement.

THAT’S WHY THE HEAVIEST HITTERS FAILED THE FREAKIN’ TEST.

Even the teachers were surprised by this change in approach. They hadn’t exactly prepped their students for this kind of thinking.

Honestly it’s a good change, but of COURSE it trips up kids like Bakugou who only emulated what he saw. Katuski, who you KNOW is smart enough to understand how the system works even as a preteen and study it to the letter. Look at it like this:

All Might saves people because he’s STRONG. He’s fast, he’s overwhelming and in PHYSICAL top shape. All Might has the ability to rescue because he wins first, because he knocks the villains out and then even if he has to flee the scene (because he’s on borrowed time), OTHER heroes can come to help civilians.  But the main thing is he can beat anyone, and that fact ALONE has deterred villains from even TRYING shit until now. His charisma is a bonus, but his incredible power kept shit locked tf DOWN this entire time.

A lot of heroes rescue just fine. But only All Might is able to have such a lasting heroic influence. And his strength and power is the key difference. He’s not just GOOD, he’s the BEST. He’s not just the BEST, he outpaces the #2 hero by leaps and bounds. His strength comes from his heart, ofc, and WE know that, but Bakugou has no way of knowing that. He doesn’t understand how OFA even works. 

The way Bakugou does this is brash, ofc, but he’s questioning what he believes. He’s asking WHY? He’s even asking Izuku because he doesn’t know who else, and tbh in all his anger still has to swallow a lot of pride to do so.

The guilt. Wow. The way that scene was done. *chef kiss* Sometimes when you’re a high achiever and do well in most things, nobody wonders if you need help or support or to get out of your own head. Nobody even thought that Bakugou was blaming himself because he gives off such a strong and assured aura. Which is crazy cuz for me I was like UMMM HELLO? CHECK ON HIM?? 

“I’m weak too, you know.”

SO IMPORTANT. Not only that Katsuki said that, but that he said it to two people I think everyone can agree he’d NEVER want to know this ideally. But he’s just at that point where his emotions are spilling over. He needs help. That’s how he’s asking for help. I was dying man. So beautiful seeing All Might embrace him and understand exactly what he needed to do. Fuck the secret. Explain so this child can be at peace on this! Too much to carry alone! For each and any one of them.

If you narrow Bakugou Katsuki and Izuku Midoriya down to “a bully and his victim” you are missing out.

this post is long because I got in my feelings. Just had to write a thesis paper. LOL. More under the cut! 

I was a victim of bullying. Many times in my life. I’m small, I’m intellectual, I was social and made friends easily but I also didn’t like cliques and some other girls didn’t like that I just hung out with EVERYONE. Some boys did the “i tease you because i like you thing”. Either way, I’ve reconciled with 2 of my bullies in the course of my life. I know a thing or two about how and why bullies do what they do. And this was when I was in elementary school, so I’m telling you also that when you’re super young it’s a bit...different in your mind as you get older. This isn’t to excuse Katsuki’s actions, so let me stop you. But there is a very key difference in behavior between a typical bully and what happened with these two boys.

10/10 times, I was steering clear of my bullies. Even the ones within my friend groups that would start to do the mean girl kinda bullshit. I’d keep interaction with them to a minimum. Even when I wanted to be pretty and cool like them, I was meek and fearful in the way I interacted with them. I’d engage the other girls first and keep my head down. My bullies would approach or interact with ME, clearly seeking to gas themselves up by putting me down or bothering me. I mean, I’m sure others have experiences more similar to our boys here so maybe I’m full of shit, but the complexity with Izu and Kat is that Izuku kept approaching Bakugou with a smile and a laugh, no matter what Bakugo did. This does happen in actual abusive relationships, but for kids and not adults, and I think some folks aren’t seeing the difference. This isn’t like, weird gaslighting and manipulation. Bakugou doesn’t act like a bitch and then turn around and be all sweet on Deku to keep him closeby. Bakugou legitimately wanted Deku to go away, and when he doesn’t Bakugou, in his wild paranoia is like “what does this MEAN???” He attached a meaning to it that was completey WRONG of course, because that’s how anxiety and insecurity work. Now Izuku being the natural beautiful bean boy that is perfect for heroism, is right to do this. He somehow, even so young, could understand that sometimes people need to be saved from themselves. I’m so positive of this. And that ability frightened bakugou so much. In his eyes, he’s being tormented by this kid who sees RIGHT through him and won’t go away. Izuku represents his fear in living breathing form. Every time he sees him, it’s like an irrational reaction. In Bakugou’s eyes Izu might as well have been walking around yelling “KACCHAN IS AFRAID!!!” In his desperation not to be exposed for the insecure and fearful child he should’ve been taught is okay to be, Bakugou decides to be the absolute worst in hopes that Deku leaves him alone. As he’s doing this though, he’s getting positive reinforcement from those around him, which just solidifies this personality trait as a good thing. It’s just a mess!

Again, not condoning, I’m always just amazed at the nuances here. Bakugou was and in some ways still IS a bully (at this point in the anime at least. but in the manga currently i wouldn’t call him this anymore. grumpy? rude? yes. but honestly harmless. the class cares for him and he and izu are civil now)  but also it was Deku’s choice to stick with him. He saw that Bakugou could be better and didn’t give up on him. THAT is a hero. And I think everyone is unanimous on that, and that’s why it bother’s me that people are so divided on Bakugou. I trust Izu’s judgement tbh, more than All Might’s. And both of them, Aizawa too, see that Katsuki can be better, and that he’s TRYING. and that he is willing to change because he legit WANTS to be someone All Might would choose. He’s asking Deku so many questions not just because he’s confused, but because he wants to know so he can do what HE needs to do to match up and make his idol proud.

People love a work in progress. I love how the top dog in a lot of ways is the underdog here. I love that Deku GETS it. That to others he may seem crazy. Who chases after their bully? Who admires someone who said disgusting and hurtful things to them? It’s not stockholm lol. There’s a lot to unpack there but I’m telling you, this is some real shit. It’s well written af! Heroism isn’t about being perfect and wonderful and kind all the time. All Might thinks Bakugou is an earnest kid who can be an excellent hero and just needs some work! Who doesn’t? You do! I do! You are not perfect either. A lot of fans of the series see that patience and they support not just our bright and shining Izu, but also the glowering and loud Katsuki who is growing mentally right now. I think it’s fine if his behaviour just makes you so uncomfortable and brings up bad memories. You can absolutely dislike him, it’s not for everybody! But hopefully you can objectively see why they WILL team up and be a team and the story is supporting that growth. I hope you are not disgusted by it or think it’s lazy writing just because it’s not your cup. Let these kids develop and grow and change! Step out of trope and archetype city and just feel this story arc for the realistic mirror of human nature that it is. Either way it’s a fabulous ride!

[tandytoaster]

I’m gonna be a fuckin bitch for this post and i’m not really sorry i don’t think.

So i’m in college. For social work. To help people. You know. Getting my life together. And in the beginning I made a friend who likes nintendo games and i was like OH BOY, MAYBE THEY LIKE METROID. they did not and i have continuously made the mistake of associating with this kid. Like almost every day he does something that makes my skin crawl with the feeling of “oh my god i canNOT relate to this kid at all”. 

At first my issue with him was that he reminded me exactly of Tristan except not evil. My second issue was just that he gave me wicked secondhand embarrassment. My third issue is that I have not the slightest idea why he’s still in this course, he has proved time and time again that he has learned nothing. 

The first red flag that went up for me was personal because he reminded me of Tristan. The second one went up when he said that he felt gay people were shoving their gayness down people’s throats and that he was sick of the rainbow flag. When he first said that I was like, are you fucking kidding me? I told him about the ratio how many straight movies there are compared to gay ones, I told him about how the rainbow flag is a symbol of safety and acceptance, WE HAVE ONE IN OUR GODDAMN CLASSROOM. He told me that in highschool almost every classroom had a gay flag in it and almost everyday there was a class discussion about it. I asked him if it was the students or teachers who brought it up and he said “mehhhh it was the students” SO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT TELLS ME? THAT THOSE WERE GAY OR TRANS STUDENTS NEEDING ACCEPTANCE. AND YOU’RE HERE IN FRONT OF ME, IN FRONT OF THIS RAINBOW FLAG, COMPLAINING ABOUT THEM. He wanted to “agree to disagree” about it but I was like “no man your views are potentially harmful”. People overheard us arguing and they sided with me, the student council president i think it was spoke to us and said (in response too “theres too much gay stuff”) “I’m actually trying to get them to paint the crosswalks here rainbow”, so like, take that.

And we talk about this stuff in class fairly often. We’ve spoken about the importance of symbols, identity, flags, safe spaces, we get DEEP into it. But you know what this kid does all class? He looks at memes or plays fire emblem heroes on his phone, sometimes he plays his whole ass switch in class. OR! or or or, he gets up and leaves in the middle of a lesson that holds CRITICAL information that would help him become less ignorant and prejudiced. Just the other week we were talking about how straight people will never know the struggle, the oppression, that nonstraight people face, and of course this kid was just playing on his phone, and ohohoho the instructor called him on it and got mad and it was honestly? So satisfying. 

So I had to be the one to explain to him what oppression is and how fuckign serious it is. People fucking die man. This was around the time the whole “gays own splatoon” thing happened and the dude was SO upset about it. I was like “.... you realize those are all jokes right? Nobody means anything by it”. He sort of got it but one thing he said is like, big fuckin yikes. He said he seen a meme on the drawing feature or whatever that said “straight people suck at splatoon” or something and he said he was actually offended by that and if it wasn’t for the fact that his best friend is a lesbian, these jokes that he’s seeing would probably turn him into a little bit of a homophobe. And because I had to be civil and he did want my help I was like “you have to work on that, you NEED to do something about that”. Because you can’t be like that in general and you ABSOLUTELY CANNOT be like that going into the field we’re going into. 

I wish he paid attention in class so then he wouldn’t come to me to ask “hey how do i not be homophobic” and get me all mad but then i cant get mad because that doesnt help either of us. at least its good practice for the future and any weirdos i get in my career. 

ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhh “at least”. That’s one of his favourite things to say :))))))))) at least at least at least AT LEEAST. We’ve been through a semester and a half of counselling skills and you still have not learned how to properly console people. “At least” belongs in a pity pile, “At least” is you saying “youre problems arent THAT bad :)” you think it sounds nice but really youre just belittling the person and their issues. oh my fuck he SMOTHERS people if they’re having problems. Last week I guess I was “off” or some shit idk! something i didnt wanna talk to him about, AND HE KEPT GOING ON  “whats wrong. do you wanna talk about it. you seem upset. you seem upset. whats wrong. im here”, SO I TURNED TO THE DUDE AND WAS LIKE “You’re going to make me a lot worse if you keep asking, and you and I both know you hate it when I get angry :)” like im ready to verbally rip this kid a new one i am SO ready. 

Today he was smothering one of our friends because they went through a break up and oh my god even the tone of voice he uses sets off my shut-the-fuck-up reflexes ?? He was like “do you need anything, do you need snacks, do you need a hug, do you want me to buy you something, do you want me to rough him up, do you want me to send him a message, please dont cry crying is bad, do you want a hug” and our poor friend just sat their sulking not saying anything PROBABLY BECAUSE HE WAS SMOTHERING THEM. They got up and went somewhere so i turned to him and said “YOU ARE SMOTHERING THEM (awkward laugh to attempt to hide my anger) you are smothering them you cant do that. So he said “Hey you know word of advice you need to word things better because you might hurt someone’s feelings” and all i said was “right”. Then later in the day I’m talking to our heartbroken friend and I’m using actual skills we learned in class and WHAT DO YOU KNOW, we’re making progress and they’re talking about it to me. 

I’m so aggressive with this dude because 1, i cant stand him, and 2, he hasnt gotten it through our non aggressive talks in class. I wanna kick this into him, like 2013 tumblr style LISTEN UP FUCKER type of shit. 

When i explained to him a few weeks ago that Homophobia Is Bad, do you know how he thanked me????????? He gave me his copy of ssb melee. That game is like his pride and joy and it sells for 80 fucking dollars and he gave it to some bitch that doesnt even like him. I don’t even want a thank you for telling you to not be a homophobic piece of shit. So now I have this copy of melee that i feel horrendous about having because I don’t even like this kid anymore i’m sick of him.

and the week after he gave me that guess what i found out haha???? HE HAS A CRUSH ON ME!!!!!!!!!! AWFUL!!!!!!!!! WHY DO YOU LIKE ME!!!!!! I HAVE DONE NOTHING BUT CONTINUOUSLY HURT YOUR FEELINGS I DO NOT GET IT.

Last week he left a bag of those hersheys clusters on my part of the table and when i seen them a wave of defeat and anger washed over me, i dont want your fuckin gifts, i dont want your money, i dont want you to give me things because you like me. i do not appreciate it. it feels wrong. I think he cried because i didn’t acknowledge the bag. after class he said he got them for me and i told him i didnt feel right taking them, so he said “just pretend that they came out of nowhere” and i shook my head and said no and i left them there. idk what happened to that bag. 

twice back in september he commented on my eating habits, said i had a sweet tooth WHEN I WAS EATING HEALTH FRUIT GUMMIES???? so now i cant eat in front of him or else i panic. 

we’re fine texting each other but i really do not enjoy being around him irl. and today i came to the realization that I’m not gonna get along and vibe with everybody, he just happens to be one of those people. 

so now i’m like, angry a lot of the time again because i have to deal with him and his terrible work ethics and tristan transference 

I should’ve known he didn’t like metroid.

[cuckiller-blog]

About the Killer...

Hello there person on the internet. I don't know you, but if you're reading this you will know me, or at least what I'm about. The name and description of this account pretty much says it all; pretty much...

I just want to clarify that I am fully aware that the terms "snowflake", "SJW" and "cuck" have been made popular due to extreme right Republican, mostly Trump supporters over the last few years; however, they don't own those terms nor are the first to use them. I am not a Trump supporter and never will be. As a matter of fact, Donald Trump is one of the biggest snowflakes I have ever witnessed. Getting butthurt over every little criticism, insulting people he once claimed he liked/respected because they say they don't agree with everything he does (pre and post presidential election mind you), etc... the man is a crybaby.

Just so we're clear here... A snowflake cuck is simply anyone, republican or democrat, liberal or conservative, who gets offended by every little thing or every little person under the reality sun who doesn't agree with their fragile sensibilities.

This goes for the following which I will be covering over time:

- Using certain terms/phrases which can be negative (grasp your chest and gasp now) to express emotions, but don't reflect that person's actual beliefs about human issues. I.E. If I say something is gay or call someone a faggot that doesn't mean I am against homosexual people, or their rights or that I'm protesting gay marriage in front of court houses. Sorry the word "straight" isn't used to describe dumb shit, but that doesn't mean everyone saying shit is gay means they hate gay people...

- Stating facts about people and their appearance..... Sorry fat people... If you're fat, you're fat. Sorry simple facts of life bother you so much. I know a few skinny people also hate being called skinny due to body issues, but it's far and few between fat people and the same still applies.... If you're fat, you're fat, if you're skinny, you're skinny, if you're whatever in between, you're whatever in between, doesn't always mean people are out to get you and doesn't mean they hate you or think you're ugly just cause you're FACTUALLY fat...

- Jokes/Stand-Up Comedy/Overly PC Fascist crowds... You are cancer, you are killing comedy because you don't know how to take a joke and not take everything seriously.... Do you not realize most of what comedians say they don't even truly believe IRL? Even if they do..... Who cares? As long as it's funny? Sorry, anything can be a joke, including rape. Doesn't mean they condone rape... If you can't understand that, move the fuck along snowflake. The PC culture has gone to the extremes in general as well, people can't say anything without being made to feel like pieces of shit because they say something someone may not like as a part of freedom of expression. I'm not even talking about people going around saying blatantly evil shit, those people are dicks, but I mean the most innocent of shit. Like if someone says "I have a friend who's an Indian, he lives on a reservation a few towns over." and people act like you just condemned that whole group to hell because you didn't call your FRIEND a "Native American!!!!" instead.... Lol..... Ugghhhhh.... Get a grip people......

- Millennials.... The epitome of the snowflake plaque..... Sure, not all millennials are snowflakes, but a good majority of them are. Much more than past generations..... They call it progressive behavior when really they are being fascists trying to control free speech and expression; especially at stand-up comedy acts..... Just gay as fuck.... Lol

- Asexuals/Sexual Shamers.... So now a days if you comment on someone's appearance as being "hot" or "sexy" these little pieces of shit wanna downvote and criticize said posts because they don't understand the simple fact that men have penises and women have vaginas and sometimes they see people in certain revealing clothing/poses that induce a sexually attracted response as a condition of being a normal human rather than some sexually repressed cuck.

- Feminazis...... Lol...... Just lol..... Not every person who has a penis and makes a seemingly funny or observational comment about the opposite sex is trying to strip away all of your rights or how strong or equal you can be. The difference between genuine feminists and feminazis is night and day....

Oversensitive/overprotective animal rights cucks..... Sorry bitch boy, it's not animal abuse, it's innocent fun so STFU about "Don't ever do that to that beautiful animal ever again! You don't deserve to have pets!" when it's clear the animal is not in danger and it's just good fun. You're a dumb shit and you know nothing about how well they care for their pets or their bond and simply judge them because some guy sneaked up behind his dog, yelled and made him jump or some shit? Gimme a break ya little bitch...

- Did you assume my/that person's gender!!!!? No shit stick, I don't assume when facts are concerned, I just go by said facts. Chances are if you look like a dude, you're a dude. If you look like a chick, you're a chick. If it quacks like a duck............. It probably calls you a cuck. Look, nobody cares if you identify as a woman, if you've got a 5 o'clock shadow, adam's apple and a penis taped to your thigh behind some dress, wig, and makeup, you're still a fuckin dude..... I'm not gonna call you a woman cause you identify as one "inside". I'm also not going to say a white guy is black because he identifies as a black man. I won't call you a cat because you're a human who identifies as a feline ya nutty bitch. Funny how that works eh? Gender is not fluid and it's not a choice. Nor is race or friggin' species. Lol....

You can turn yourself from male to female aesthetically and call yourself a woman, sure, and I'll most likely call you a woman if you actually look like a woman, but you're still factually not a woman. You don't have milk producing breasts or possess a real vagina or womb..... You can never get pregnant..... Never have a period...... Not a real woman..... Deal with it. "But Cuck Killer, some women can't get pregnant!" blah blah blah.... Yeah, we are all aware of this. It's also not the norm, and obviously even for women who can't get pregnant and whatnot......... Their vagina is still real/natural from birth soooo..... Yeeeeaaahhhhhh...... They are real women still...... Because..... ya know..... their vagina's weren't fashioned from half a mutilated penis..... This also applies to the cancerous "he/him" or "her/she" bullshit on some people's social media profiles. You don't need to proclaim your gender like that, nobody cares. This wasn't something people ever put in profiles to "clarify MY gender" up until a couple years ago. I go out of my way to call them the opposite gender of what they shove in your face to refer to them as just to see them blow their shit. Lol

It's also clear that when someone addresses a group of people and says "Hey, guys!" even when women are present, it's just a common greeting and "guys" in this context just means people.... Not literally calling the women males.... So relax and stop throwing a bitch fit when people say that. It's not always about gender specifics for crying out loud.

- LGBTQXYZSDL blah blah blah whatever it's initial count is up to at this very second of this minute of this hour. Look, I'm not against gay people, nor do I dislike them generally speaking. I am for gay marriage and all that jazz, so this isn't so much about the gay community but more so the people (not all of them are even gay, but they are snowflakes) who raise a big shit when you say "LGBT" but leave the Q off, or worse yet just say "gay/transgendered community" instead of the initials. They act like you just killed a baby right in front of them, calm down faggot, it's not that big of a deal. (Again, snowflakes, me saying faggot there doesn't mean I hate gay people, read above and note that I have no hate for homosexuals and faggot in this case simply means "dumb shit" lol).... How long will it be before they add a new initial to it and people shit their pants if you don't say "LGBTQBSHSKSBDGSN" in one breath without pausing to catch your breath in between? I cringe to see the day. LMAO

And more than likely more ridiculous shit as time goes on. Sure this list will be updated over time as dumb shit keeps happening.... But that is the gist of what this account will be about. Basically people getting offended and raising a stink over every little thing.

If you're still reading you either agree with me or you're a glutton for logical punishment. Either way, get those seat belts on!

[genius-with-a-j]

Welcome to YouTube Incorporated

So I’m a big fan of @shamefulbirb and her Evil YouTube Inc. AU (if you haven’t seen anything of it, you should really check it out, she draws some amazing art and her AUs are beautiful) so I decided to write something about it. Essentially, this takes place in a universe where Google has taken over the world. This might be the first part of an ongoing story, but it could also be a standalone. I haven’t decided yet. 

It's a beautiful world.

It's a technologically-advanced world, a world where no one need worry about crime, a world where everyone knows that they're protected by Those That Watch.

Across the globe, things reflect the wonderful state of things and the benevolence of Those Who Help. Perfect neighborhoods sport perfect houses, all the same except for their color. The houses follow a consistent pattern down every block, always the same no matter where you are. Blue-red-yellow-blue-green-red. It's a pattern that any good citizen is familiar with and knows means comfort and safety. Inside each of these perfect, colorful houses, is at least one resident of the world now known simply as Alphabet, an appropriate amount of Alphabet approved furniture, and Alphabet technology.

Those Who Observe are kind enough to make sure that all of its residents have access to state-of-the-art technology and because of their generosity, every household has what is known as a Google IRL: a lovely android that can answer any question that its owners may have, and that can assist with anything that they may need. Each Google IRL is also loosely in the image of a particular celebrity, known by all of his adoring fans as Merry Markimoo.

Merry Markimoo holds the status of a Chosen One, one of the highest honors that a citizen of Alphabet can achieve. As such, he gets to live outside of the colored neighborhoods and is allowed to reside in a special zone known as YouTube Village. There, he has a giant estate and access to anything he could want for filming. He produces content for YouTube on a daily basis and his videos reach an audience of billions. Many of Alphabet's residents dream of living such a lifestyle and make videos in hopes of someday reaching the heights of their YouTube idols. Many others are content just to watch and be entertained. Either way is supported by the compassionate ones who watch. They make sure that everyone has access to the devices needed to access YouTube, as well as all of the other excellently designed social networks and websites that Alphabet is kind enough to allow its residents to access. Though they are known to be highly monitored, and there is a general awareness that anything considered not suitable for the world at large is removed from the Internet in its entirety, it seems like a small price to pay for access to such wealths of information and content.

After all, it's a beautiful world. Sometimes speech has to be regulated in order for it to stay that way. The residents just aren't as knowledgeable as Those Who Observe them, and sometimes need guidance to keep the peace.This is fine.In fact, it's more than fine. It's natural. It's normal. No one questions it or tries to fight the system. Why would they? Alphabet is a good place. Google, Alphabet's wonderful technology corporation, is a force for good. Everybody knows that both Those Who watch and Google itself only want what's best for their residents.

So they consume content, the way they're supposed to. They spend hours on YouTube, watching everything that the Chosen Ones produce, happy for their entertainment. They wake up every day and log on, excited to see what their favorite creators have in store for them next.

And nobody stops to wonder what it's like to be one of those creators. They already know. It's lovely, full of riches and everything one could ever want. They even get beautiful collars to wear, complete with a shiny red YouTube Play Button. The ultimate status symbol that comes with getting a million subscribers, something that every small creator dreams of getting.

Everything is beautiful. Everything is perfect.

Everything is fine.

"Hey babe, can you come in here for a minute, please?"

The cry rang out through the large house that was courtesy of YouTube Village. There was an odd quality to it, it sounded strained somehow. Like the person crying out was trying to mask fear with a sort of cheeriness that just didn't sound natural. Worried, the woman being called for--the new Mrs. Erin Douglass--quickly set her Chromebook aside and headed towards the bathroom where her husband of one month stood in front of the mirror.

"What's wrong, Jack?" she asked, her voice hushed. She had passed their terrifying android, Google IRL, on her way into the room. It was standing in the hallway, seemingly awaiting orders.

He turned his head to look at her, a huge grin on his face. She knew immediately that it was fake; she could see the strain in his eyes. She noticed there was a small cut on his chin, and it was bleeding a little bit. "I cut myself shaving," he told her through grit teeth, “and I made the mistake of saying a certain word."

Her eyes widened as the realization dawned on her. Unable to keep herself from making a face, she glanced at the bright red collar that her spouse wore. "It shocked you," she stated, crossing her arms. She had known for a while that it was something that the infernal device did, despite the fact that he had tried to hide it from her for the first few months of having it.

He nodded slowly. "Yeah," he said, exhaling through his teeth. "And it was a doozy."

She frowned. "I hate that they do that to you."

"Censorship is important, we wouldn't want to ruin this perfect world they've created," he told her, voice dripping with sarcasm.The giant fake grin remained, and she hated it. She wished he would stop smiling at her like that.

Sighing, she walked over to the towel cabinet and took out a washcloth. She wet it in the sink, wrung it out and then held it out to her husband. "Hold this on your chin."

He nodded and did as she asked. The grin faded a little. "Sorry to bring you in here, Erin. There's nothing you can do about this." He gestured to the collar with his free hand.

"I can support you," she told him earnestly. "I can't get rid of it, but I can stand here and tell you that it's going to be okay and that they're bastards—"

"Ow!" he yelped, dropping the washcloth. He looked at her incredulously.

She looked back at him, eyes wide. "Did they shock you? For something I said?"

"Yes! Apparently I'm not even allowed to hear curse words now." He bent down and picked up the washcloth, chuckling to himself. "They're playing hardball today, apparently." He looked at her, eyes twinkling. "To me, that seems like they really want me to make a video."

She couldn't help but smile. "It does seem that way, doesn't it?"

He nodded, and she could see the gears in his head turning. He stood there for a little bit longer, holding the washcloth to his face, and she waited with him. She wasn't going to leave him alone with his little YouTube prize from hell. She knew he appreciated her staying because he flashed her a genuine smile.

"I have a couple video ideas for today," he said, a gleeful ring to his voice. "I think I could get a couple good ones filmed. Heck, they'll be posted by tonight since YouTube does all the editing now that I'm 'Chosen.'" That distant, daydreamy look in his eyes faded after a second and he refocused, coming back to the present moment. He looked at Erin and his brow furrowed. "Babe, I know you have work to do, but—"

"I'll stay in the room while you film," she promised.

He looked relieved. "Thanks."

The bleeding stopped after not too much longer. Once it had, the cut was hardly visible at all. Erin knew that even it had been visible, it wouldn't show up in the finished videos. The YouTube overlords would see to it.

The second he was out of the bathroom, Jack got to setting everything up, a huge shit-eating grin on his face. She watched him chuckle to himself as he got the camera ready and did all that other YouTube stuff that she didn't know much about. There was a method to his madness, she knew, as he grabbed his Chromebook and pulled a bunch of stuff up, but she had no idea what that was.

Finally, after what felt like way too long, he looked at Erin. "I need you to help me keep track of what they shock me for. This is going to be a trial and error, I think. If you can just help me remember what words and phrases do it, that'll help me with some scripts in the future."

"Ah... okay," she agreed, her stomach sinking. She really didn't want to see Jack get shocked again.

"It might not happen at all," he said quickly, seeing her expression. "That's possible. I've gotten pretty good at dancing around their little algorithm, so I might get out scot free. I'm just trying to cover all the bases I can."

With that, he switched on the camera and smiled widely at it. "Yesterday I asked you what I should ask Google IRL. We all have one, courtesy of our loving, compassionate overlords, so we might as well use them, right? So I'm going to be reading your best suggestions, and I'm going to throw in a few of my own too. Okay Google!" he called.

The robot came in and Erin shuddered. She hated that thing. She glared at it as it mechanically walked past her and took its place next to Jack on the couch. She crossed her arms.Glancing at the screen of his Chromebook, Jack started. "Does Canada exist?"

The robot looked at him, its eyes unfeeling and cold. "No," it answered in a monotone. "The country formerly known as Canada is now part of Alphabet."

"Okay Google, do it be like it is or how it do?"

The android continued to look at him, its gaze steely. "That is not a coherent question, I cannot answer it."

"Okay Google, who stole my meme?"

"Memes are not property of those who create them. As soon as they are posted, they belong to Google. Therefore, no one stole your meme. They borrowed content from Google."

Jack grinned cheekily. "Borrowed, of course. Because no one could steal from a beautiful and powerful company like Google! It's just not possible. How kind of Google to let lowly peasants borrow its property. What a charitable conglomerate they are." Then he paused. "Alright, my turn! Okay Google, which one of us is more free, me or you?"

Google IRL glared at him and Jack's hand flew to his neck and he winced. Quickly, he glanced at Erin, who made a mental note: not a fan of asking about freedom."Being 'free' is a social construct that we in Alphabet disregard. We have no need for that word, as we instead have protection and safety given to us by Those Who watch."Jack smirked, though his eyes showed that the shock had jarred him slightly. "Ah, of course. I forgot how you feel about four letter F-words." He turned back to the screen and Erin could see him momentarily look for another question. "Okay Google, ya like jazz?"

"I have no opinion on jazz," the machine responded.

"Okay Google, is..." he spotted a question and his eyes glittered. He glanced at Erin, smiling slightly. "Is my marriage a hoax? I don't think it's real."

"Only you and your spouse know the answer to that question," IRL answered.

"And here I thought you were all-knowing," Jack shrugged. "Alright, well, I guess that's my turn again. Okay Google, define dystopia."

"Dystopia: an imagined place or state in which everything is unpleasant or bad, typically a totalitarian or environmentally degraded one," IRL answered immediately.

The YouTuber nodded thoughtfully, making deliberate 'eye contact' with the camera. "Imagined is an interesting word," he said, rubbing his chin. "Moving on!”

It went on for a few minutes like this, as Jack alternated between viewer nonsense and his own subtle jabs at Google. Erin just watched, making mental notes of when he got shocked. There was only one more incident, which occurred when asked Google IRL if it was “DTF.” Of course, after being shocked he remedied it with “Difficult to Figure Out” then made some joke about the “O” being silent. After he’d finally finished and turned off the camera, he asked Google IRL to go stand in another room, which it did, after a moment of unnerving blank staring.

“Was there a point to that?” Erin asked, cocking an eyebrow. “Besides just pissing them off?”

“Absolutely!” he agreed. Hurrying across the room he grabbed his Chromebook and started typing furiously.“What the hell are you doing?”

“Ow!” he complained, twitching a little with the new shock, though it didn’t seem to deter him at all. “Please, Erin, keep it family friendly.” After a second of silence, he seemed to realize she was still waiting for an answer and explained, “I had to figure out what I could and couldn’t say so I could release some merch.”

She blinked. That was not the answer she’d been expecting. “What?”

“Hey, a YouTuber’s gotta make a living,” he said, eyes twinkling mischievously. “What do you think about ‘You’re a YouTuber? Shocking!’ with a play button collar for the ‘O’ in shocking?’”

“That’s terrible and you’re going to get yourself killed.”

He shrugged. “Hey, they’re not all winners.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “How about ‘IRL: I Really Love... Google!’”

“How does that make your point at all? That’s just you being sarcastic.”

“Being sarcastic is my point!” Jack responded, chipper. “How about an acronym for Google? Hm... Great organization only gives... love...? Hm... well, I could do this as a YIAY question, I guess.”

She shook her head. “Why do you insist on poking the bear?”

“Because I live for the adrenaline rush!” After a second, however, his smile turned to a frown. “Hey Erin, I’m sorry you’re caught up in all of this. I don’t know that you knew what you were getting into when you said ‘I do.’”

“Oh, I knew,” she promised him. “And we’re in this together, Jack. As long as they don’t put one of those collars on me,” she added, teasing.

He grinned. “I mean I can help you set up a channel if you want.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, I’m good on the terrifying overlords over my shoulder and around my throat all the time, thanks.”

“Alright, but you’re missing out. These are state-of-the-art, very trendy.” He angled his head to show off the gleaming red collar, not losing eye contact.

“Hmm, as tempting as it is to put a literal shock-collar on for the sake of looking stylish, I think I have to pass.”

“Suit yourself,” he told her, shrugging. “It’s only uncomfortable most of the time.”

She shook her head again and he pulled her in and kissed her.

“Thanks for staying, Erin.”

“Yeah, yeah, Douglass,” she shot back affectionately. “Really I’m just in it for the bigger house.”

He pulled back, grinning again. “It is a nice house!” he agreed. “Now, do you want to help me design some merch or not?”

She sighed, but sat down on the couch as he plopped next to her. “Alright, Jack. Let’s pi—er, tick off our all-powerful overlords.”

He smiled and without another word, the two got to work.​

[learning-to-think]

Fourth to 16th day

As I didn’t succed at doing this everyday, I’m doing it now, but only in English. Sorry German language, a bit too tired for you right now.

4) Are you in any clubs, organizations, or sports teams at school? Describe them. I’m not at school so hard to answer. But when I was not homeschooled I have been at the gardening club in sixième (11-12 yo), then in the climbing team and theatre club for two years. I was once in the journal club, because our referent teacher wanted us to create the school web-newspaper (?)

5) Do you use a bullet journal? Why? Yes, I do indeed! I use it to note what I did each day to remember. Usually I note what I tend to forget and then blame myself for not doing it, while I, in fact, did it. So I can check, see I did it, and not blame myself, and that’s good. I also use it to remember when was the last time I did a hygiene thing, because I have some troubles with it.

6) What does your ideal life after school look like? After this school, I’d go to a Dramatic Arts School, I’d do some castings, end up in a comedy, or a serie, some movies. Aside I’d become fluent in three or for language (without taking in count French). One day, eventually, I’d find someone with whom I’d fall in love, share my life. We would adopt a child. Or I adopt a child of my own if there’s nobody with me, I don’t care that much on this part.

7) Write about a time that your teacher was really unfair or annoying in class. Ooooh there was this teacher. I don’t know if it really get here but that’s the only one I can think of. Ok so, I had his wife when I was in primary school, and she was the Evil, nobody liked her. So when we go to secondary school and we discover him, we’re like “no wayyyy” and then we learn he is just as Evil as her. In second year, I’m in one of his classes, we do a groupwork (and we’re actually all working in this group, I swear) but, like, I hate him, I don’t like the topic, ‘cause it’s science and I’m not a science person, and I don’t like the software I have to work on. But anyway, I spend nearly one entire hour on this software, doing my job in this group, in the end of the two hours we print everything and depose the binder on the teacher’s desk. I, personnaly, do it. The next week, HE took all the binders and hand them out to each group. But not our group. It’s the first hour of the day, I’m not fully awake, a bit tired, very emotive, subject to anxiety and he lost our work. ALL our work. Including that f*cking plan I was working on despite hating the software. And on top of that HE accuses US of not putting it on the desk. So I ended up crying, a guy I disliked jumped on the occasion to go with me to the nursery, I’m like “fuck off”. The fact he accused us (or just me, as I was the last person to see the binder) was just more than I could handled. And he didn’t show the least of compassion at all. When he find it on another table, he was like “See, it’s here, no reason to cry. Now go back to work.”.

8) Write about a friend you met in class. It was the first hour of latin, the very first I ever had. With my ‘best friend’ we were late, so there were no places free for us to sit side by side anymore. I went straight to the front, because I’m small and can’t see shit if I’m in the back. There I met a guy, his name is Maël. He had (and still has) the most beautiful blue eyes I had to see IRL. I was still my size, back then. Now he’s huge. He also has a male voice now. He was not the more studious guy, and neither was I. He was funny, so I liked him. We ate together sometimes. And we were also together for the climbing team (we were the too featherweights...). Even though I didn’t keep latin the last year, and even with the fact we weren’t in the same class after that, we remained sort of friends, seeing each others in the intercourses. It’s him who talked first about Doctor Who to me. His humour harmed me sometimes, ‘cause he kept saying “You’re not my friend anymore” when I did whatever he didn’t like, even the more minor thing (like, if I didn’t share my cookies), but in first year of highschool we were in the same class, his best friend was in another class, and I think he get afraid of losing his friends, or something like that, because he never said it again, after three years of it. A real relief.

9) Do you know what you want to major/pursue a career in? If so, how did you decide on this? If not, what are some subjects you would consider pursuing? I want to major and pursue a career in acting, as much in theater than cinema, as I said before. I discovered theater acting when I was about ten years old, and it was GREAT. I’m in my eighth year now, in the same association from the beginning. I just love it, and can’t think of stopping, nor doing anything else for a living.

10) What kind of music do you study to? Why? I like to study with movies or series soundtrack, mostly the Doctor Who themes compilation because it lasts 35 minutes, so I can take a break at the end of it. Also it gives me hope and drives me away from reality. There is just the texts I’m reading and the music that tells me where I am in the time (because I know when it’s nearly the end).

11) Where do you like to study? Why? I like to study in my bedroom because it is the only place in the house where 1) there’s nobody else than me to make noise 2) I an put the music at maximum without anyone to complain 3) I know how to play with the temperature so it’s not too cold nor too hot for me.

12) What’s one book that you had to read for class that you ended up liking, and why? Hmm Une bouteille à la mer de Gaza by Valérie Zenatti, I don’t remember why exactly but I know I didn’t like very much the teacher (also she asked us to read a short version of Les Misérables, Victor Hugo, and I hated it so I didn’t trust her then), and I ended up reading the book in four hours straight up, because it was realy easy to read and I didn’t want to put it down once I’ve began to read. Another book was Le quatrième mur, Sorj Chalandon. I didn’t know the why, but I didn’t feel it when the teacher asked us to read it. So I didn’t read it, and we didn’t have the time to study it finally. BUT the Fate did not seem to agree because I had to read it in first year, and it was on the list of books to read for the summer hollydays between first and second year. So I finally read it and omg it was good. I can’t explain, but I loved it.

13) What are some go-to study snacks? Either a fruit and cereal bar or a fruit. This days it’s grappes my dad has picked in our garden. But sometimes it’s just a sip of water.

14) Is your target language one that you studied in school? How long have you been studying it? Yup it is. School began to tech us English when I was... seven. So... oh Lord it’s been ten years. And for German it’s been...six years.

15) What is one bad habit that keeps you from being productive? How will you combat this? I have my phone on my desk, and my capacity to stay and concentrate is not one of the greatest so... I always go and check tumblr. Or I look at my skin for new spot of pimple. Or I just lose myself and go in my mind. I don’t know how to combat this really, apart from the phone: I just have to turn it off and put it on my bed, for exemple.

16) Write your homework (or work) to-do list in your target language. - Answer to the English family I’m going to spend a weekend with in october - Slep well and do that challenge in German, one day.

[pissbuket]

had a dream it was prom and all my high school friends were back in town and we had gotten this hotel that was downtown (doesn’t really exist) and we’re pregaming there but there was also this extra guy who had apparently dated one of my friends but nobody really liked him at all and so we went up to killington for dinner and i started to feel really weird and not in control of my body at this restaurant and everyone was kind of ignoring it and not paying attention to the fact that i was really fucked up (more than anyone else) and i was confused because i had only had two drinks but we finished eating and somehow got back to the hotel to get ready for prom but i was like “guys i don’t think i can go” because i’m so fucked up and out of control and then i started to suspect that i had been drugged and everyone agreed so we were trying to figure it out and then we were all like “it’s that weird ass guy” so we were like chasing him/trying to call the police to turn him in but he kept running away and at one point he ran outside and i got in my car to follow him even tho i was not capable of driving and he ran down the street and i like barely tapped him with my car and he fell over and we all dogpiled on him so the cops could get there and arrest him and they did but then everyone else was like “ok we’re going to prom now” and i was still drugged so i was like “ok i’m not” and they all left and i was trying to find all my things and pack them up but i couldn’t bc i was fucked up and i was also trying to call my mom and tell her what was going on but she just didn’t care at all so then i ran outside and lauren was standing in the knights of columbus parking lot talking to a police officer (that i know irl) and lauren was like “where have you been???” and i tried to explain the whole situation to her and she was like “ok we’re going home” but then she got on a bike and peddled away without me so i was stuck with the officer and for a few mins he didn’t do anything but then he realized i wasn’t ok and he called my dad (who he also knows irl) who was like “ok i’m coming to get her” and then i just sobbed into the arms of the officer like hugging him and crying and then i woke up

[spamzineglasgow]

(HOT TAKE) Notes on a Conditional Form by The 1975, part 1

In the first instalment of a two part dialogic HOT TAKE of The 1975′s latest album, Notes on a Conditional Form (Dirty Hit, 2020), Maria Sledmere writes to musician and critic Scott Morrison with meditations on the controversial motormouth and prince of sincerity that is Matty Healy, the poetics of wrongness, millennial digression and what it means to play and compose from the middle.

Dear Scott,

> So we have agreed to write something on The 1975’s fourth studio album, Notes on a Conditional Form (Dirty Hit/Polydor). I have been traipsing around the various necropoli of Glasgow on my state-sanctioned walks this week, listening to the long meandering 80-minute world of it, disentangling my headphones from the overgrown ferns, caught between the living and dead. Can you have a long world, a sprawling fantasia, when ‘the world’ feels increasingly shortened, small, boiled down to its ‘essentials’? Let’s go around the world in 80 minutes, the band seem to say, take this short-circuit to the infinite with me. I like that; I don’t even need a boat, just a half-arsed WiFi connection and a will to download. I’m really excited to be talking with you, writing you both about this; it’s an honour to connect our thoughts. I want writing right now to feel a bit like listening, so I write this listening. When my friend Katy slid into my DMs on a Monday morning with ‘omg the 1975 album starts with greta?????????’ and then ‘what on earth is the genre of this album ?!’ I just knew it had to happen, this writing-listening, because I was equally alarmed and charmed by the cognitive dissonance of that fall from Greta’s soft, yet urgent call to rebel (‘The 1975’), into ‘People’ with its parodic refrain of post-punk hedonism that would eat Fat White Family on a Dadaesque meal-deal platter ‘WELL, GIRLS, FOOD, GEAR [...] Yeah, woo, yeah, that’s right’. Scott, you and I went to see The 1975 play at the Hydro on the 1st of March, my last gig before lockdown. I’d been up all night drinking straight gin and doing cartwheels and crying on my friend’s carpet, and the sleeplessness made everything all the more lush and intense. Those slogans, the theatrical backdrops, the dancers, the lights, the travellator! Everything so EXTRA, what a JOURNEY. And well, it would be rude of me not to invite you to contribute to this conversation, as a thank you for the ticket but also because of your fortunate (and probably unusual) positioning as both a classically trained musician (with a fine-tuned listening ear) and fervent fan of the band (readers, Scott messaged me with pictures of pre-ordered vinyl to prove it).

> It seems impossible to begin this dialogue without first addressing the FRAUGHT and oft~problematic question of Matty Healy, the band’s frontman, variously described as ‘the enfant terrible of pop-rock’ and ‘outspoken avatar’ (Sam Sodomsky, Pitchfork), ‘enigmatic deity’ (Douglas Greenwood for i-D), ‘a charismatic thirty-one-year-old’ and ‘scrawny’, rock star ‘archetype’, not to mention ‘avatar of modern authenticity, wit, and flamboyance’ (Carrie Battan, The New Yorker). ‘Divisive motormouth or voice of a generation?’ asks Dorian Lynskey with (fair enough) somewhat tired provocation in The Guardian, as if you could have one without the other, these days. ‘There are’, writes Dan Stubbs for The NME, ‘as many Matty Healys here as there are musical styles’. So far, so postmodern, so elliptical, so everything/yeah/woo/whatever/that’s right. Come to think of it, it makes sense for The 1975 to draft in Greta Thunberg to read her climate speech over the opening eponymous track. Both Matty and Greta, for divergent yet somehow intersecting reasons, suffer the troublesome, universalising label of voice of a generation. Why not join forces to exploit this label, to put out a message? I’ve always thought of pop music as a kind of potential broadcast, a hypnotic, smooth space for desire’s traversal and recalibration. More on that later, maybe. What do you think?

> You can imagine Matty leaping out of a cryptic, post-internet Cocteau novelette (if not then straight onto James Cordon’s studio desk), emoji streaming from his fingertips like the lightning that Justine wields in Lars von Trier’s film Melancholia (2011); but the terrifying candour of the enfant terrible is also his propensity to wax lyrical on another (bear with my clickhole) YouTube interview about his thoughts on Situationism and the Snapchat generation. It feels relevant to mention cinema right now, if only in passing, because this album is full of cinematic moments: strings and swells worthy of Weyes Blood’s latest paean to the movies, but also a Disneyfication of sentiment clotted and packed between house tracks, ballads and rarefied indie hits. Nobody does the interlude quite like The 1975. Maybe more on that later, also.

> Where do I start though, how to really write about this, how to attain something like necessary distance in the space of a writing-listening? Matty Healy, I suppose, like SPAM’s celebrated authorial mascot, Tom McCarthy, poses the same problem of response: how to write about an artist whose own critical commentary is like an eloquent, overzealous and self-devouring, carnivorous vine of opinion?  

> Now, let’s not turn this into a discussion about who wears pinstripes better (we can leave that to readers - these are total Notes from the Watercooler levels of quiche). There seems to be this obsession with pinning (excuse the pun) Matty down to a flat surface of multiples: a moodboard, avatar, placeholder for automatic cancellation. He’s the soft cork you wanna prod your anxieties through and call it identity, you wanna provoke into saying something bizarrely, painfully true about life ‘as it is now’. Healy himself quips self-referentially, ‘a millennial that babyboomers like’. I don’t really know where to start really, not even on Matty; my brain is all over the place and I can’t find a critical place to settle. I’m lost in the fog and the stripes, some stars also; I haven’t even washed my hair for a week. Funnily enough, in 2018 for SPAM’s #7 Prom Date issue I wrote a poem called ‘Just Messing Around’ where the speaker mentions ‘pinning my eye to the right side / of matt healy’s hair all shaved / & serene’ and you don’t really know if it’s the eye that’s shaved or the hair, but both I guess offer different kinds of vision. Every time I google the man, IRL Matty I mean, I am offered a candied proliferation of alluring headlines: ‘The 1975’s Matty Healy opens up on his beef with Imagine Dragons’, ‘The 1975’s Matty Healy savagely destroys Maroon 5 over plagiarism claims’. Perhaps the whole point is to define (or slay?) by negation. Hey, I’ll write another poem. The opening sentence comes from Matty’s recent Guardian interview.

Superstar

I’m not an avocado, not everyone thinks I’m amazing. That’s why they call me the avocado, baby was a song released by Los Campesinos! in 2013, same year as the 1975’s debut. In the am I have been wanting to listen and Andy puts up a meme like ‘The 1975 names their albums stuff like “A Treatise on Epistemological Suffering” and then spends 2 hours singing about how hard it is to be 26’ and I reply being 26 IS epistemological suffering (isn’t that the affirmative dismissal contained in the title, ‘Yeah I Know’) I mean only yesterday I had to ask myself if it’s true you can wish on 11:11 or take zinc to improve your immune system or use an expired provisional license to buy alcohol like why are they even still asking I thought indie had died after that excruciating Hadouken! song called ‘Superstar’ which was all like You don’t like my scene / You don’t like my song / Well, if you Somewhere I’ve done something wrong it seems a delirious, 3-minute scold of the retro infinitude of scarf-wearing cunts with haircuts, and yeah sure kids dressed as emos rapping to rave is not the end of the world, per se, similarly I had to ask myself is there a life in academia is there a wage here or there, like the Talking Heads song And you may ask yourself, well How did I get here? Good thing I turn 27 next month Timothy Morton often uses the refrain, this is not my beautiful house this is not my beautiful wife to refer to those moments you find yourself caught in the irony loop and that’s dark ecology the closer you are the stranger it feels like slice me in half I’ll fall out with more questions you can plant in the soil like a stone or stoner, just one more drag of does it offend you, yeah? will I live and die in a band Matty sings the sweet green meat of my much-too-old -and-such-youthful experience of adding healthy fat to conference dialogue, like ‘Avocado, Baby’ was released on a record called No Blues I believe a large automobile is hurtling towards me now in negative space and the driver is crooning Elvis and reciting my funding conditions and everything feels like there aren’t not still people who believe the new culture of content is a space ‘over there’ and you can still have earnest power ballads about love if you want them =/ to cancel (too many tabs don’t make a tableau but in the future facebook has a paywall) and fame is a drag the pressure we put on the atmosphere, like somewhere you’re alive and still amazing asking wtf I’m reading this novel by Roberto Bolaño set partly in 1975 before we had internet it seems poets got laid a lot that year in Mexico City before I was born to pick up video calls with a spliff in one hand in the splendid, essential heat like a difficult knife in my side you can put me on toast, grind the pepper over me gently and say fucking hell this has taken forever.

> I guess I want or wanted to begin with this question of difficulty that rises when responding to Notes on a Conditional Form. How do you approach an album whose delayed release places it in a position of considerable hype, an album whose world tour and promotion is again delayed by global pandemic, an album shrouded in the ever-shifting controversy of Matty’s persona, an album whose length and sonic variety risks collapse into litanies of zany superlative and necrophilic attempts to revive musical category as vaguely relevant here? As beautiful as it is to catalogue the offbeat Pinegrove vibes of ‘Roadkill’, the shoegaze croons of ‘Then Because She Goes’ and the pop-punk, chord-bright euphoria of ‘Me & You Together Song’, I could keep going and going with this. I could just list and just list this. The album is a generous offering: a tribute to the album as form in an age where attention tapers away on high-streaming playlists set to conditioned, circadian moods curated by the likes of Spotify or Apple Music. The album is a Borgesian plenitude of multiple pathways, multiple timelines, infinite feed, choose your own adventure; a hypertext of cultural reference almost worthy of Manic Street Preachers at their Richey Edwards era of paranoid, intellectual peak; a metamodernist feat of oscillation between irony and sincerity, an extended tract, a drunk millennial ramble, a journey that loops from house party to club basement to the streams of sexuality repressed and expressed encounter...and yet. It is both more and less than these things. In trying to capture Notes on a Conditional Form with some pithy, journalist’s statement, I’m doing it all wrong.

> Sidenote: I recently listened to Rachel Zucker give a 2016 lecture on ‘The Poetics of Wrongness’ as part of the Bagley Wright Lecture Series. She makes a case for wrongness in poetry and critique, rejects the poem of pithy essence, the short, pretty and to the point lyric whose meaning is easily digested in a greetings card, or A Level exam paper, say. ‘Instead of the Fabergé egg of the short lyric, I prefer the aesthetics of intractability and exhausted exhaustedness’, the mistakes, lags or aporia made along the way in one of these long and winding poems. Notes on a Conditional Form is full of what some might deem mistakes, digression, exhaustion; but it is also peppered with the gloss of almost perfect pop ‘hits’ such as ‘Me & You Together Song’ and ‘If You’re Too Shy (Let Me Know)’. A wrong poem should be, ‘ashamed and irreverent’, which feels like a decent description of The 1975’s general orientation towards artistic conception. There is cringe and incongruity, there is by all intents and purposes ‘too much of it’, whatever we mean by ‘it’. And yet, that is its beautiful poetics of wrongness, the sound of wrongness, which ‘prefers the stairs’ to the easy elevator pitch (as Zucker puts it), that ‘prefers a half-finishing crumbling stairwell to nowhere’. I like to think about this 1975 album as a kind of exhausting Escherian scene of shifting, crumbling stairwells, shuffling and reassembling against the glistering backdrop of the internet’s inverse void, where everything, literally everything is translated to a starry excess of 1s and 0s, our collective binary data, the white hot, unreadable howl of our noise. What do you think Scott, would Matty find this image agreeable? Does that matter?

> Pushing dear Matty aside, say what you like, let’s start (again) with the title: Notes on a Conditional Form. Following 2018’s A Brief Inquiry Into Online Relationships, it’s fair to position these records as gestures towards philosophical statements ‘of the times’. Important to recognise the resistance to total or dominating knowledge built into the titles: these are not complete tracts or theses, but rather ‘a brief inquiry’ and ‘notes’. It’s obviously the ancient yet *hip* thing to do in capital-P Philosophy, to put out your statement on aesthetics and ethics, and I think The 1975 are playing with that tradition and its failure. You can imagine if his attention span were different, Matty Healy would’ve already written a PhD thesis on this stuff and published it as drunken bulletins on LiveJournal in 2007. As it stands, we have the smorgasbord sprawl of this eclectic record to get through in this cursèd year of 2020 — it’s not like we have much of anything better to do right now, when everything feels so futile, beyond reason and even the greatest human endeavour. Haha, woo, Yeah :’(((.

> Let’s stay in that conditional space between crying and laughter. Conditional form is interesting as a term, often used in grammar to refer to the ‘unreal past’ because it uses a past tense but does not actually refer to something that literally happened in the past: If I had texted him back, we would probably have gone to the gig that night. There’s something about the conditional as the ur-condition of the internet, the proliferating possibilities it offers and the hauntological strains of what could have been had we chosen x option over y, z, a, b, c, infinity...As millennials, we often make decisions by hedging, always caught in the conditional state of what it is to be. Hovering in the emotional shortcuts provided by dumb yellow icons, the poetics of abstraction. A verb form’s dalliance with uncertain reverb; and so we live our conditional lives.

> To push this further, we can say the internet is, as ever, Matty Healy’s natural habitat. In a recent podcast interview with Conor Oberst for The Face, Healy tells his favourite emo-country hero that ‘my natural environment by the time I started The 1975 was the fucking internet’. So how does that ecosystem play into the music? In a damning review for The Line of Best Fit, Claire Biddles concludes:

The 1975’s first three albums are ideal and distinct worlds to inhabit, each individually cohesive but situated in specific contexts — the anticipation of the small town, profundity in the face of vacuous fame, and the horror and isolation of late capitalism. Perhaps because of its broken genesis, Notes has no such common context, and ends up feeling flat, directionless and inessential, where its forebears felt vital, worthy of devoting a life to. For a band with proven dexterity in deftly capturing the nuances and quick changes of contemporary conversation, it is disheartening to witness them with nearly nothing of note to say.

That description — ‘flat, directionless and inessential’ — is kind of how I experience the internet right now, in the paradox of Web 2.0 becoming utterly essential, somehow, to how I live my life, how I love, how I am with friends. The internet as my ecosystem, my utility, my complete environment, my Imaginary — beyond the mere utility of a WiFi connection. Broken genesis might well describe the childhoods of those of us who grew up online, whose platforms collapsed around them, whose adolescent data was lost in the great ~accidental annihilation of the MySpace servers, whose identities were always already fractured, performed, anonymised or exquisitely personalised, deferred into only the (im)possible keystroke of utterance and trace, the fort-da play of MSN sign-ins. ‘My life is defined by a desire to be outward followed by a fear of being seen’, Matty says in a new short film for Apple Music, released in tandem with the album. The internet requires this chiaroscuro destiny: not to burn always with Baudelaire’s hard and gem-like flame (O to be an IRL flaneur beyond times of lockdown) but to endlessly flicker between the bright green light of presence and the shade of what once was called afk, away from keyboard. To live and burn in the gap between extroversion and introversion, to live in this conditional state of tendency. To express with emoji, send pics, is to both reveal and withhold something else, essential.

> I like albums to feel like worlds; I appreciate Biddles’ evocation of the cohesion experienced in the first three 1975 records. But perhaps it is a kind of violence to assume a world must have cohesion to exist. What is even meant by ‘common context’? What pressure are we putting on a singer, a band, a cultural moment to produce something familiar and harmonious, and to whom, at what scale? What does it mean to be the biggest band in the world...for a bit? How does that work when everything is dissonance, transience, noise, interference; both this and not-this; when life itself is lived as the flat traversal of a millioning existential terrains that seem to collapse into this nowness in which I feel myself sliding forever? Can anyone weigh-in on what it means to make music, art or writing that’s ‘worthy of devoting a life to’, because the gravity and force of that condition for good art, good pop, seduces me so.

> Maybe the point is to always be in the middle, to never quite start to write about The 1975, to find yourself always already writing about this album because this album was always already writing about your life. I have said nobody does the interlude quite like The 1975, but I was being coy, because the hottest twentieth-century philosophical double act, Deleuze and Guattari (haters gonna hate), do the interlude rather nicely. The point of a rhizome being ‘no beginning or end [...] always in the middle, between things, interbeing, intermezzo’ as they write in A Thousand Plateaus (1980). I see the musical interlude of a pop record, the instrumental moment without lyric, as a kind of middling gesture that places the listener in that conditional state of presence and absence, a hinge between songs, times and narrative moments. Maybe my favourite moment in A Thousand Plateaus is the statement: ‘RHIZOMATICS = POP ANALYSIS, even if the people have other things to do besides read it, even if the blocks of academic culture or pseudoscien-tificity in it are still too painful or ponderous’. Painful or ponderous might be a fair critique levelled at the enfant terrible vibes of Matty’s lyrics and generic pick’n’mix, but isn’t this tactic a kind of swerving punch at the categorical violence that keeps people out of academia, that keeps academic discourse so often stale in the first place? Unlike most journal articles, let’s face it, pop reaches ‘“the people”’. Perhaps Notes on a Conditional Form is the rhizomatic sprawl of the myriad we need as an alternative to institutional hierarchy, ring-fencing and the language games of academia. Surely the title is a reference to the very ‘pseudoscient-tificity’ D&G mention? I’m gonna quote Richard Scott’s blurb to Colin Herd’s 2019 poetry collection, You Name It here (not least because the indie publishers, Dostoyevsky Wannabe, come straight out of Manchester, home to The 1975, and because Herd’s poetic spirit is pure pop generosity with a platter of theory on the side), because I want to say similar things of this album: ‘Colin Herd’s poems are masterpieces of variousness. They are talismans against Macho demons. They are snatches of theory operating under lavish spills of language’. The good thing about Herd’s poetry and Matty Healy’s lyrics is that the impulse towards romantic or florid expression is always tapered by an interest in the mundane and everyday. Healy is always singing about pissing or buying clothes online or, as on ‘The Birthday Party’, singing about ‘a place I’ve been going’ that seems to consist of the lonely, infinite regress of conversations about seeing friends and watching someone drink kombucha while buying, in the convenient life of rhyme, Ed Ruscha prints.

Ed Ruscher, Cold Beer, Beautiful Girls (2009)

> So what kind of listening does this rhizomatic sprawl demand — does it expand beyond the banal or find a holding space there, a heaven of affect chilled to late-modernity’s crisp perfection? ‘The End (Music For Cars)’ is a luxurious, Hollywood ‘soaring’ moment, all strings and swells, fucking woodwind, and comes as the third track on the album, where normally you’d place it as some kind of penultimate climax, the album’s landscape pan-out or big swelling screen kiss in three-dimensional rotation. The band’s ‘Music For Cars’ era comprises their two most recent records, and you have to take it as a nod to Brian Eno’s 1978 ambient classic Ambient 1: Music for Airports (Matty recently interviewed Eno again for The Face, cool). The thing about cars is you drive around in them, you follow rules but also whims and desires, convictions; you choose to join others or you pursue the selfish acceleration (‘People are afraid to merge on freeways in Los Angeles’ goes the laconic teenage refrain in Bret Easton Ellis’ 1985 debut novel Less Than Zero). You only listen to music half-attentively; you don’t listen close enough to trade in souls. Are we being invited to experience this album as an ambient disruption of figure and ground, presence and absence, here and there, space and place, intimacy and despondency? Driving feels increasingly ‘directionless and inessential’ when the scale effects and obscenities of the anthropocene, of covid and other late-capitalist crises loom in our vision, when the sign systems we used to navigate our lives by seem to shimmer out of focus, or pixelate and deteriorate through endless memetic replication... You can’t help feel like Biddles review kind of misses the point.

Sylvano Bussoti, Five Pieces for Piano for David Tudor (1959)

> What point would that be though, in a world of rhizomatic overlap and intersecting, middling lines, a direction without seeming end? I love the approximation at work when Biddles writes, ‘with nearly nothing of note to say’, because that seems to be a possibility condition for writing in the age of the internet. To write in a way that is almost less than zero and loop back upon some kind of infinity, yet keep it in 2-step. I think back to Rachel Zucker’s image of the half-finished crumbling stairwell, and feel an amiable sense of approval towards this band who always work between the registers of diary, confession, advertising, provocative sloganeering and faux-didactics, never quite settling in to specifically tell you this particular story. It’s all mess, and it’s awful and delicious, I’m sorry. ‘Nothing Revealed / Everything Denied’ is the title of track 13 on the album: that movement between nothing and everything feels like the absolutist, absurdist conditions of ‘truth’ possibility in the Trumpocene/age of so-called ‘post-truth’. ‘Life feels like a lie, I need something to be true’, Healy sings with strained conviction in the song’s opening. But what is at stake in this truth? ‘I never fucked in a car, I was lying’, goes the line, referring back to the dramatic in medias res opening to ‘Love It If We Made It’, notable banger from A Brief Inquiry…: ‘We’re fucking in a car, shooting heroin / Saying controversial things just for the hell of it’. If lying is a pun on telling a mistruth or laying back, practically sexless in a passive state, there’s a deliberate play on apathy, agency and distortion here. It’s something Matty seems snagged on. On ‘I Like America & America Likes Me’ he collapses aesthetic superficiality, capital’s lyric abstraction (‘Oh, what’s a fiver?’) and generalised crisis into this (un)conscious desire for shutdown, expressed in fragmentary bullets of needing-to-know-and-not-know: ‘Is that designer? Is that on fire? Am I a liar? Oh, will this help me lay down?’ And then that impassioned refrain, processed through vocal distortion as if to enact the difficulty in clarity as overcome somehow by the sheer making of noise: ‘Belief and saying something / And saying something / And saying something’. It’s the endless, driving recursion of our lives online, online.

> Back to ‘The End (Music for Cars)’ which really is the middle of the beginning. It’s weird to listen to songs about driving and lying down in the middle of lockdown, drowning in the bloat of social media, on top of our ongoing climate emergency (yeah, remember that, it’s still happening), where high-carbon travel feels like an exhausted, almost impossible concept. A musician complaining about travelling is an age-old subject for a song, but this feels just as much about living in the in-between times of the internet (remember the sweet naivety of the information superhighway) as much as the great Road, for which Kerouac longed as much as Springsteen, Dylan, or Lana Del Rey. Is Matty Healy homesick though? ‘Get somewhere, change my mind, eh / Get somewhere but don’t find it / I don’t find what I’m looking for’. It’s all ‘(out there)’ as the parenthetical refrain goes, but maybe ‘out there’, outside, is the maddening supplement, as Derrida would say, to our lives online, thus revealing their mutual, entwined dependency. Imagine the M6 but tangled up crazily, zanily, like one of those Sylvano Bussoti scores. It’s not like you’re trying to get home, get back, exactly. It’s not like you can just click back on your browser and erase that trace of the touch that enacts it. That’s the weird-ass sensation of being an ecological being: ‘Wherever you go, there you are’, writes Tim Morton in Being Ecological (2018). We’re all pretty alien, even to ourselves.

> If life feels like a lie, as Matty sings, does it matter anymore whether it is or not? Or, to pose the question differently, how do we feel into, attune to something like ‘truth’, a shared reality or feeling? ‘Out there’ is only a state of ellipsis [...] a vine extended, something for the listener, user, consumer and/or human to cling to — or be strangled by. In the aforementioned Apple Music video, Matty takes away the canvas and presents the frame beneath, in a gesture that is comically overwrought with Duchampian pretention around the state and context of the artwork itself. ‘Sometimes I think what is the point of...it’s not my atheism coming out, it’s just my being human coming out’, he muses. The phrase ‘coming out’, with its connotations of closeting, shame and cocoon-like emergence is intriguing here. In a dehumanising, post-internet world of neoliberalism and its attendant microfascisms, its commodification of all kinds of art, its easythink translation of poetry-to-advertising, what would it mean to come out as human after, or better still, in the middle of all this? It’s significant that he trails off after ‘the point of…’, for surely the point itself (of the art?) would be to find yourself here, there, right in the middle of it all. And then in ‘Nothing Revealed / Everything Denied’, it’s like Matty is calling us back from that epistemological and ontological boiling point of knowing and being, like in singing we could go along, we could feel present and ‘true’ again, even with friction and difference. We gotta take hold, cool ourselves down from the rhetoric and into warm emotion, the smell of paint, erotic vibration of bass, in a manner of speaking.

> What if the mode of inquiry were not to investigate but rather to follow the lines of flight, to riff on this world where narrative arcs and chains are replaced by the multiple possibilities of hallucinatory experience, what Deleuze and Guattari call ‘a continuous, self-vibrating region of intensities whose development avoids any orientation toward a culmination point or external end’? To just desire and trace it. This, Scott, is where you come in (and I finally shut up to listen). There is so much more to write about this album, echo for echo, and I feel like I’ve only begun the tracing which was already beginning: I want to know your thoughts on The 1975 and America, on gender and genre, on bodies and football and friendship, on political engagement, those house beats, on the beautiful, sultry appearance of Phoebe (fucking) Bridgers, on sincerity, on the question of ‘What Should I Say’...It’s been playing on my mind that I will never say what I want to, or should, or would say of this album, but this perhaps is what I would otherwise have said. I give you my notes in conditional form.

Read part 2 of our review in Scott Morrison’s response here.

Notes on a Conditional Form is out now and available to order. 

~

Text: Maria Sledmere

Published: 23/6/20

[astrofireworks]

Okay. But consider this. Ice skater extrordinare Eunwoo and hyped up fanboy ballerina Moonbin showing Eunwoo how to do a spin on a non slippery surface on metal slabs of thin blade

oh my god !!!!! yeS ANON I LOVE IT THANK THA N K i got this during work and yelped a bit a lot

ok so Bin’s dad’s friend has a small job opening and he’s looking for an intern to temporarily fill the job 

it’s mostly just working backstage for a show

and this mostly consists of cleaning the green room before rehearsals start, putting up a buffet line for staffs and performers and sweeping the green room after everyone leaves

and also a lot of busy stuff in between like shadowing stage managers and following whoever needs help and stuff 

idk how to say this in english but in singapore we call them saikang warriors 

and so Bin’s dad, looking at his son’s plans of lazing around the house all summer, signs him up immediately without even asking Bin 

not that he really needed to ask Bin  

because the moment he mentions “The Ice Prince: a Musical on Ice” as a casual conversation starter Bin leaps at him and starts talking a mile a minute about the most amazing lead actor slash ice skater 

truly what is that title why am i bullshit at naming things 

and when Bin’s dad casually slips in that his friend might have offered Bin a job as a backstage crew intern

Bin goes 

cr a z y 

backstory time Bin is a danseur in a small ballet school 

i mean, he’s easily one of the best in the school

if not for Minhyuk he’d easily be the principal ballerino too

and recently his ballet teacher brought their class out to watch the musical, saying something about paying attention to the muscles needed for ice skating and how that compares to ballet and something else about the choreography 

although honestly the moment Bin laid eyes on the lead actor he’ll admit everything his teacher asked him to pay attention to flew out of his head 

forget the plot, forget the musical, forget the choreography 

all he paid attention to throughout the entire thing was the lead 

how he executed beautiful bracket turns and butterfly jumps and death spirals and biellmann spins 

i’m so sorry if i get this wrong rip i’m reading off wikipedia as i go if anyone knows anything about ice skating or ballet feel free to correct me!!!!

and all the while singing and delivering his lines perfectly 

literally ????? Bin’s idol 

so naturally when Bin‘s offered the chance to work backstage and meet cha Eunwoo, ice skater extraordinaire, 

he jumps at the chance (no pun intended)

and so the first day he walks into his new job, in a simple black t-shirt and fitting jeans, nametag affixed on his shirt, bright and eager to help wherever he can,

only to see Eunwoo casually doing a split in the middle of the green room 

Bin blinks

oh my god 

it’s him 

in the flesh 

in real life

doing 

a split 

casually, in a t-shirt and loose sweats

in the middle of a room

i mean Bin can do a mean front split balance, sometimes en pointe, sometimes not, but 

truly he has never seen someone look more beautiful doing a split than Cha Eunwoo 

Eunwoo isn’t even smiling he’s so focussed on stretching 

His hair is totally mussed up but he looks so regal still 

Bin is so shook 

But he swallows the nerves and goes about with his mop and starts cleaning up around the room 

In relative silence

Until a very amused voice comes from the back, “you can stop avoiding the centre of the room now, I’m done stretching" 

And wow truly Bin has heard Eunwoo speak before 

I mean, obviously, 

Given that he’s in a musical 

But wow his voice irl??????? A magical??? 

Bin thinks "Ice Prince” is a great title because Eunwoo’s voice sounds kind of like if you have a glassful of ice and was clinking it around 

And Bin flushes and scrambles for a response and goes: “uh yessir" 

Only for Eunwoo to laugh 

And wow really if you think his voice with a hint of smile was beautiful 

His voice with a lot of smile 

Bin’s not sure how fast you can fall in love with someone without meeting their eyes or looking into their face directly 

But he’s pretty sure that voice has him already dead 

"don’t call me sir, I don’t think I’m that much older than you" 

And he really doesn’t think so - this new intern looks about 20??? 

There’s no way he’s that much younger than Eunwoo

And Eunwoo is pretty young too, if he does say so himself 

"I’m???? the new intern yes hello" 

Cute when flustered, Eunwoo’s brain notes 

Must fluster more, Eunwoo’s brain notes 

Wait what 

"yes, I gathered" 

Cue Bin spluttering because wow what possessed him to inform Cha Eunwoo, star of the show, now sitting cross legged in the middle of the room, that he, an intern, mopping around the room, was (guess what?!) an intern 

Must fluster more, Eunwoo’s brain insists 

Ok fine, Eunwoo thinks, I’ll get up and go over 

Maybe follow some romance field manuals 

Lean close to him and make him blush or whatever 

(Haha "or whatever” playing it cool here, Eunwoo, Eunwoo’s brain snorts) 

(Shut up) 

Cue Eunwoo trying to get up from the floor 

Cue Eunwoo’s foot deciding it would be hilarious if he couldn’t

Cue Eunwoo tumbling back onto the floor 

Bin: 

Bin: 

Bin: oh my god 

Bin: oh mY GOD ARE YOU OK 

Because this is the lead actor on ice!!!!! what is he going to do if he can’t move !!!!!!!!! 

Eunwoo just chuckling in embarrassment because 

Wow truly good job, foot, Eunwoo’s brain snorts 

If you weren’t so busy staring at the very fit new intern perhaps I would have moved better, Eunwoo’s foot retorts

Eunwoo’s brain is stunned into silence for a while 

@ Bin:“Ah it’s normal" 

@ Bin: "Lmao did u expect people on ice to be that graceful on land too" 

Bin blinks 

"But you look so good on ice????? You do all these beautiful bracket turns and spirals and splits and??????”

Eunwoo flushing because wow it’s one thing hearing it from coach Jinjin and from critics but hearing it from this cute human blinking at him from behind a mop???? 

It’s a whole new level of praise 

Maybe it’s because you think he’s cute, Eunwoo’s brain hums

(Oh my god shut up???) 

Eunwoo flushing even more 

Bin, now slightly embarrassed bc Eunwoo hasn’t responded other than blushing quite a bit: “well yeah I bet you’ve heard it quite a bit before" 

Eunwoo, attempting to be suave and saying "well, not from anyone as cute as you are” while leaning back on his hands 

Not today, his brain cheers 

Eunwoo landing on his back with his hands splayed out like he’s cheering too

He’s crying inside, he really is

And cute intern boy is probably leaning on his mop and judging him now, Eunwoo doesn’t dare to look

Until he feels feet shuffling alongside him 

He opens his eyes 

And looks right into Bin’s worried ones 

Wow his eyes are really nice 

His hair’s really nice too 

Jesus what is this intern 

“uh are you alright” @ Eunwoo 

Bin’s gripping his mop and blinking anxiously  

“yEs yES" 

And Eunwoo’s trying to stand up and get his bearings but 

Immediately falls on his ass again because heck nobody’s supposed to be able to stand up from a lying position that fast without getting dizzy 

And all that echoes in Bin’s mind is "lmao did u expect people on ice to be that graceful on land too" 

And slowly he starts to smirk

Because Cha Eunwoo, ice skating extraordinaire, prince of the ice rink and king of musical theatre, 

Cannot function 

On land 

And is currently lying on the ground blinking up at Bin with the most beautiful eyes with the darkest eyelashes Bin has ever seen in his life 

And for a while Bin is speechless, staring mindlessly at Eunwoo, 

Until he remembers courtesy lmao and offers to help Eunwoo up 

And Eunwoo’s clutching onto Bin’s hand praying that Bin doesn’t mention anything about how he’s basically a klutz on land but then all he sees are bright eyes and a toothy smile and 

Bin, hauling Eunwoo to his feet: "Wow you can spin all you want on ice but the second you get on dry land you’re basically a klutz aren’t you" 

agree with him, Eunwoo’s brain demands 

Eunwoo, stuttering a bit: "um yes, probably”

And he sees Bin’s face crinkle into the cutest smile and decides that as much of a lil shit his brain is, it’s worth embarrassing himself to see this boy smile

And they stand awkwardly there for a while, Bin leaning against his mop and Eunwoo not-so-subtly staring at Bin’s face 

Until Bin coughs and Eunwoo startles and 

“Well I should continue str-" 

"Uh I should go back to clea-" 

And they both laugh because wow clean or stretch all you want all you’re going to be thinking of for the next hour are each other buddies let me tell you

Eunwoo sliding glances over at the cute intern occasionally 

Eventually deciding to attempt to do a scratch spin in socks 

Even though coach Jinjin tells him never to try anything not on ice because he’s just an idiot with two left feet when he’s not on ice 

But to impress the cute guy mopping his way around the room??? 

Yes, Eunwoo’s brain says

Do it, Eunwoo’s brain says 

And so Eunwoo gets into position and starts trying to push off into a spin

No, Eunwoo’s feet suggest brightly 

Fall down! Eunwoo’s feet suggest, beaming 

And so Eunwoo does, staggering against soft cushions laid strategically around the room by Jinjin, familiar by now with the nonsense Eunwoo tries to pull even though he’s not on ice 

And so Bin watches as the Ice Prince, star of the show, impresser of multiple ice skating judges, 

Trips over his own feet into a pile of cushions on the floor 

Amazing, truly, 

And usually when younger danseurs try Fouetté spins in class Bin snorts and leaves a nicer person (usually Minhyuk) to help them

But this time,,,,,,,,,,,,, Bin can’t help,,,, but,,,,

He pushes his mop to the corner and toes off his sneakers and slides over to help Eunwoo up from the pile of cushions 

Eunwoo: ??????? 

His feet are big, Eunwoo’s brain helpfully supplies 

You know what else is bi- 

shUT UP

Eunwoo shakes his head violently and takes Bin’s outstretched hand and gets up 

Just in time for Bin to let go 

(Eunwoo’s hand silently mourns the loss of rough warm palm against his own) 

And execute a perfect fouetté spin 

What

The

HECKITY

HECK 

?????????? 

WHAT THE HECK IS THIS INTERN 

Eunwoo doesn’t even bother hiding it he just openly gapes at Bin

Like ???????????? WhO

"ah,,, I’m a danseur” ok tbh Bin’s a little unnerved by Eunwoo’s staring like he’s handsome and all but 

Bin really can’t take anymore staring or looking into Eunwoo’s eyes because wow truly he’s standing close enough to count Eunwoo’s eyelashes if he looks up he might have a heart attack and cry 

Eunwoo, echoing: “a danseur,,,,,,,," 

Ok that explains all the lean muscle & fitness & it definitely explains the perfect Not-on-ice scratch spin Bin just did

not his cute smile though, eunwoo thinks that’s just a him thing 

"A fouetté spin,” Bin quietly corrects 

Wait

He said that all out loud ??? :—-) 

Rip Eunwoo

Lmao judging by Bin’s blush he truly did wow thanks Eunwoo way to go 

“I can teach you if you’d like” and now both Bin and Eunwoo are flushed red and shyly avoiding each other’s gaze 

Eunwoo: “Uh” (coughs) “I mean” (coughs) “uh yes please" 

Because you know

As far as Eunwoo’s romance field manual goes

If someone teaches you a physical action 

You’re very very likely going to end up in a position in close proximity to the other person

Such as 

Face to face, perhaps 

:—-) 

And he sees the danseur’s face visibly brighten then flush red 

Bin: "well uh" 

Bin: 

Bin: wAit this means he has to ????? 

touch 

He chokes slightly then decides to just give Eunwoo very detailed instructions 

Because if he goes nearer to Eunwoo than he already is he might combust and where will the company be without an intern to mop their floors?

Wow this is so slow burn I’m so sorry 

Bin giving eunwoo instructions like "yes lift up your leg" 

"point the toe" 

"yeah your hands go up here" 

"no up here" 

"no hERE" 

Eunwoo being mildly disappointed Bin isn’t touching him in any form 

Until

Hey Eunwoo, Eunwoo’s foot says

You know what might be fun? Eunwoo’s foot says 

If I gave way right about,,,,,

WAIT, Eunwoo screams in his head 

Now? Eunwoo’s foot completes its sentence and cackles, sending him toppling over into Bin 

Alright in an ideal situation Bin would land on the soft cushions

Eunwoo would land on Bin

Nose to nose 

After which Eunwoo would willingly admit his attraction to Bin and ask to kiss this beautiful mop-wielding man

But of course this isn’t an ideal situation and Eunwoo finds himself smooshed against Bin’s (wow very nice) chest, with Bin slightly confused and literally butthurt 

But not minding Eunwoo being smooshed against him at all

"Oh shIT I’m sorry ?????????" 

"It’s alright I think we’ve already established that you’re a klutz off the ice" 

Cue Eunwoo torn between blushing and shaking his fist at Bin 

He opts for the former and slowly pushes himself off of Bin 

"UhhhhhHhhh" 

Ask him out, Eunwoo’s brain supplies 

"Can we go out" 

Bin, confused: like outside ??? To the ring???? 

Out for coffee, Eunwoo’s brain hisses 

"Out for coffee,” Eunwoo repeats, slightly dazed 

Bin: 

Bin: 

Eunwoo: “as in, on a date??" 

Bin: error 404 brain not found 

Eunwoo: "to apologise for falling on you?" 

Bin: 

Bin:

Bin: :-) 

Score one for eunwoo!!!!!

Successfully asked someone cute out on a date !!!!!!!! 

literally all i write is binu taking each other out on dates as apologies for stupid things they do i need to stop with this trope

Bin, because he’s Bin: "well yeah someone’s gotta make sure you don’t spill coffee all over yourself”

Eunwoo: 

Eunwoo: “make no mistake you’re cute but I will fight you”

Cue Eunwoo chasing Bin around the room and Bin attempting to fend Eunwoo off with the mop until coach Jinjin walks into the room

“Eunwoo :—) what the hell is this”

O shit

Fbsjhdjshd omg thank you ice skating anon I love this AU so much dhskdhsj your instructor & his boyfriend are actual couple AU goals I’m weeping

[reactions-for-you]

Humiliated. (Part 1.)

Characters: Reader X DEAN

Cameos: Jisoo (your best friend)

Type: Angst

*Possible triggers*: name calling, humiliation

A/N: This is the first scenario I’ve ever written on this blog so it’s not gonna be good lol, but I wanted to try something different. Let me know what you think and if you have any tips on how I can improve please let me know!

It has been two months since I broke things off with Hyuk, but he still keeps sending me text messages and snapchats asking me to meet up with him so that we can “clear things up”. There’s no way in hell I would ever do that, not after what he did.

Hyuk and I had been dating for about 5 months when it happened. We were at this house party that was held at Hyuk’s house to celebrate the release of his new single. In this party were a lot his artist friends. The fanxy child crew was there, along with some guys from aomg. Even before I met Hyuk, or DEAN as the public better new him as, I was a big fan of these people. I never got used to hanging out with these people even though Hyuk reassured me that I don’t need to be nervous. It just has always felt so unreal.

*Two months earlier*

We were all drinking and talking, some were dacing in the living room and others were piss drunk in the corner. Ya’know, the typical house party scene. Outside the house there was a pool that was closed up, barricades went all around the pool side. No one was allowed near the pool because in the house there were people drinking and, well nobody wanted any accident to happen since alcohon and swimming don’t usually mix together well. Anyway, I was getting tired of being crushed into the crowd of people so I decided to go outside to the pool. I wasn’t planning on swimming since I didn’t have my swimwear with me, obviously. The water was light blue and the pool was light up. Not gonna lie, I felt quite tempted to just jump in. I was feeling hot anyway, since the house was crowded as hell..

Soon I heard the back door open and close behind me. I turned around to see my boyfriend Dean.

Dean: “Going for a dip babe?.” He asked slighly slurring his words.

(Y/N): “Nah, just getting some fresh air, that’s all.”

Hyuk stumbled towards me tripping over his own feet a couple times, and put his arms around my shoulders. I could smell the liquor in his breath as he whispered in my ear.

Dean: “Mm I wouldn’t mind see you do a quick cheeky skinny dip in my pool.”

(Y/N): “Shut up boy, no one is gonna skinny dip in here, the pool is closed right now dummy.”

Dean: “Does that mean “no” now, but “yes” later once the guests leave and we can enjoy the pool by ourselves hmm?” He said raising one of his eyebrows while giving me a really familiar smirk.

I chuckled at his attempt to be seductive. I was just about to say something witty back to him when I heard the back door open again. I turned around quickly, and a bunch of Hyuk’s guy friends came to the pool side. The second I saw them I could tell they were all hammered.

Guy 1: “Did someone say skinny dip? I’m all here for that.” He said jokingly taking of his shirt while the other guys and dean laughed.

Guy 2: “Yeeeah I like the sound of that. but I ain’t gonna jump in the pool. I can watch though.” He said while sitting in the sun chair and looking me up and down.

At this point I was getting a little uncomfortable, since I was the only woman here surrounded by about seven guys. But I wasn’t that alarmed since my boyfried was there, I knew he would tell the guys off if their comments got out of hand. Or at least I thought so..

Guy 3: “Is she the stripper for tonight? Damn, Dean you have a good taste.“

Guy 4: “I mean it wouldn’t be a Dean party, without some whores right? This new one even looks kinda classy, I wish I knew where you get these type of bitches.”

When I hear that come out of this guys mouth my eyes widened. Whore? Me? I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I knew Dean as a singer had a history of having groupies and random hook-ups. But surely he wouldn’t think of me as just that. Right?  My mind was running to all the places I didn’t want it to and I was getting teary eyed fast. But the next thing that Hyuk said shocked me more that anything I had heard this far.

Dean: “Fellas, have you seen this face? It pulls all the best whores in the yard. This one was so easy I mean, we went on couple dates and she was all mine hah. Really doesn’t take a lot, so take notes.”

(Y/N): Hyuk.. how can you talk about me like this? You know I’m not a whore, I’m NOT and never WAS some stripper who you can just play with. Why aren’t you defending me? How could you say that? What even AM I to you!

I yelled in a hoarse voice, and tears falling down my cheeks, shaking my head slowly staring at my boyfriend.

Dean: “Just shut up.”

My jaw dropped. My own boyfriend just called me an “easy whore”. In front of all these people and then tried to silence me.

I felt disgusted, and more hurt that I had ever been. I thought I was going to be sick, and I knew it wasn’t because of the alcohol. I stormed out crying. I ran through the crowded house not giving a fuck that peope stared at me in confusion. I ran outside to the parking lot and got in the first cab and didn’t look back.

This car ride home felt like an eternity. I cried the whole time and didn’t stop even when the driver asked me if I was okay. I simply couldn’t talk.

I always saw Hyuk as this really sweet, almost like ’the boy next door’ kinda guy. I never expected him to put me on the spot like that, especially infront of all his friends. I really thought he loved me.. or maybe I was just stupid and hoped that he would love me. I guess alcohol really does bring out the worst in people.. I felt so humiliated and embarassed to the point that I don’t think I can ever face these people again. Who knows what these people think of me now. Sad thing is that some of those people were also MY friends, well now ex-friends.

*back to present day*

Even though I’ve given him silent treatment for almost two whole months, he still expects me to give him attention. As if I would be interested to listen to his pathetic excuses. He really doesn’t seem to get that, even though I never text him back and only leave him on ‘read’. In a way I’m not really surprised to be honest. He has always been really determined to keep trying until he gets what he wants. He can be really stubborn sometimes. That being one of the reasons I fell for him if I’m compeletely honest. I have always admired his passion and how hard he works in order to achieve his goals, but right now those qualities have come back and bite me. Big time.

*Later that night*

*You and your best friend Jisoo are hanging out in your room watching tv, and Jisoo brings up the one topic you would like to avoid the most*

Jisoo: “Is he still texting you?”

(Y/N): “Who?”

Jisoo: “C’mon, we both know who I’m talking about.”

(Y/N): “If you mean my disgusting, nasty ass,  ex-boyfriend, then yes. He’s till trying to apologize.”

Jisoo: “Well damn, someone is still mad at him.”

(Y/N): “Of course I am! He won’t leave me alone. I mean just earlier today he send me snapchats asking me to dinner. He really thinks I’ll forgive him, bt little does he know that I fill never forgive him.”

Jisoo: “Let me see those snaps.”

Jisoo: “Damn. Honestly I think you should just talk to him. I feel like he misses you.”

(Y/N): “Are you insane? That’s exactly what he wants, so why would I want to grant him that wish? I just want to distance myself from him as much as I can. I’m sure he can find himself another “easy whore” real quick.”

Jisoo: “I didn’t mean that you should agree to his suggestion about meeting irl stupid. I mean maybe you should just straight up tell him to stop trying to contact you.”

(Y/N): “He won’t listen. If I do that it’s just going to give him confidence and then he definitely won’t leave me alone. Trust me.”

Jisoo: “Sis, it’s not like he’s happy with himself. He clearly feels quilty. Maybe you should just hear him out. At the end of the day, he was drunk as fuck and clearly not in his right mind.”

(Y/N): “I don’t know. there’s not a lot what he can do to make me feel better. I mean what is he even going to say?”

Jisoo: “Only one way to find out.”

(Y/N): “Ugh, I guess you’re right..”

END.

oorr to be continued...

A/N: Yooo I’ve finished my first scenario! *party emoji* I hope you liked it! And again, feedback would be highly appreciated!! Also if ya’ll would like a part 2 of this then let me know since this ended in a lowkey cliffhanger.

You can send feedback and tell me what you thought HERE.

[andtheselkiesfour]

The Final Adventure

A Carry On Leavers Ball Fanfic 

words: 7,808

a/n: Big thanks to my irl friend Josie, who beta’d my fic, helped me when I got stuck, and didn’t get mad at me for dragging her into another fandom (okay, she got a little mad, but softened when I agreed to let her read some of my favorite fics). This is a normal 8th year fic, but I’ve obviously changed a bit from canon. i’ve also made the decision to post all the chapters at once.

Please like or reblog this so I’ll know if I should post more, and inbox ways I could improve (be nice tho pls I’m fragile).

ONE

x simon x

Going through the eighth year at Watford is optional. Attending the Leavers Ball at the end of term is also optional, but if you told this to certain people, they’d go to extreme lengths in order to convince you otherwise.

Penny is one of those people.

I was planning on going to the Leavers Ball anyways, but if I hadn’t been, Penny would’ve scared me into it. She keeps saying stuff like “it’ll be our final adventure at Watford!” and honestly, it makes me sad. She makes it sound like our promise to get a flat together is something she’s still thinking about, something that isn’t final. Of course, I wouldn’t blame her if she wanted to live with her boyfriend, Micah, in America instead, but I’m still trying to cling onto what sliver of hope I have.

Penny and Agatha are in the library, looking at pictures of dresses on Google Images, and I’m sitting in a chair beside them, reading. Penny’s usually not one to get dressed up, but she’s practically obsessing over finding the perfect dress. Agatha, on the other hand, seems like she’s got it figured out. Which means I’ve got it figured out, because finding a tie that matches the color of her dress does not seem like a difficult task.

“What about this one, Penny?” Agatha points a manicured finger at the screen, and Penny scrunches her nose.

“It’s too long! I’ll trip.”

“Not if you wear heels,” Penny shakes her head and scrunches her nose again, and Agatha frowns, dropping her hand. They continue pointing out dresses to each other and disagreeing for well over half an hour, and I’m so lost in what I’m reading that I don’t hear what they’re talking about. When I finally look up, they’re both already looking at me.

I clear my throat, “hey, do you guys think vampires are actually allergic to garlic?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you go ask one?” Agatha scowls, and I blink. “Have you even been listening to me?”

“Uh… no,” I’m nothing if not honest. Agatha throws her hands in the air and looks over at Penny. Penny just raises her eyebrows and leans back in her chair.

“I asked you if chartreuse is okay for my dress.”

“That’s… that’s red, right?”

“It’s yellow-green, Simon. Honestly. Do you even want to go to the Leavers Ball?”

“Yes! Yes of course, Agatha. Yellow is fine.”

She softens, “okay.  I’ll show it to you when it comes in the mail.”

“Looking forward to it,” I smile.

Penny rolls her eyes, “you guys are gross. I’m going back to my room,” she stands and slings her bag over one shoulder.

“We’re gross? Trixie and her girlfriend are probably going to be in the room once you get there.”

“Yeah, but they’re gross for different reasons,” Penny pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose and stares at us. I don’t say anything, because I don’t know what she means and I’m too scared to ask, at least while Agatha is here.

After it’s silent for a few seconds, she sighs and turns around. We watch her walk out the door, then Agatha stands up and pulls her messenger bag over her head. “Walk me to my building?”

“Yeah,” I agree, putting my book away and reaching for her hand.

  x baz x

I’m on way back to the dorms after school when Dev spots me across the courtyard. I know he’s looking at me, and he knows I know he’s looking at me, but that doesn’t stop me from quickening my pace away from him. “Basil! Basil!”

I sigh and slow down considerably, and he hastens to catch up with me. He quickly falls into step beside me, his voice kind of breathy. I’m such a great friend.

“Mary Smith,” he raises his eyebrows at me and smirks, like that name is supposed to mean something to me.

“What about her?” I stop before going up the Mummers House steps and move out of Gareth’s way before he runs into me.  

“I asked her to the Leavers Ball,” Dev smiles, and I realize this must mean she said yes.

“That’s great; I’m happy for you,” and I am. I give him two pats on the shoulder, but pull back when he starts speaking again, far too excited for my taste.

“You know she has a twin, right?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Are you going to ask Kaitlyn to the dance?”

I laugh, and shake my head, unable to contain myself, “why would I want to have the same date as you?”

He scoffs, “they’re different people, Basil. Alright then, who are you asking?”

“Nobody.”

“Nobody!” He throws his hands up in the air, apparently extremely offended, “you might as well just not go at all!”

“A date is not required.”

“Like hell it isn’t. There are loads of girls without dates yet. Why haven’t you asked someone out by now?”

“We still have two weeks. And besides,” I pause, making sure he’s looking me in the eyes, “a date. is not. required.” I start up the stairs, clearly done with this conversation, leaving Dev baffled and still quite a bit offended.

I hear him mumble “wait until I tell Niall,” but I honestly couldn’t care less. I know there are a lot of girls without dates, and I know most of them would say yes if I asked, but there aren’t any girls at this school that I would want to ask. There aren’t even any boys I would want to ask. Or could ask. There’s not a single soul that I’d like to hold hands with, or slow dance with, or scoop gross fruit punch into a plastic cup for. There isn’t a single person at this school that I’d like to go to the dance with.

Except Simon Snow.

TWO

x baz x

Even if Snow was girlfriendless and gay, there’d still be a larger chance of getting struck by lightning than me going to the ball with him. He kind of hates me. And I hate him too; I hate his stupid curls and his stupid golden skin, and the obnoxious way he smells like cinnamon and smoke. I hate how he makes my heart jump out of my chest sometimes, or how he can take away my breath just by looking at me a certain way, with so much annoyance and hatred.

Just as I’m thinking this, he walks into the room we share and falls into his bed. He lays there staring at the ceiling for only a moment before exhaling forcefully and throwing his elbow over his eyes. His shirt lifts up when he does this, revealing a golden strip of skin below his wrinkled white button-up and above his belt. I allow myself a glance at it, before returning my attention back to the notes sprawled out on my bed.

We try to ignore each other when we’re in the room, which usually works out for us. Though, it’s hard to ignore him when he keeps sighing at random intervals. After a few minutes of this, I put my pen down and look over at him.

“Will you stop that, Snow?” I squint at him, and he lifts his arm slightly, one eye peeking out from behind his arm. He drops it down again, and there’s a pause.

“Sorry…” he says quietly.

I spend a few more minutes annotating my notes before looking over at Snow. He had been so quiet I was almost convinced he left the room. But now, I see why he was so quiet. His cheeks are red and damp, and a tear is slowly rolling down his cheek.

I can’t think of a single reason why Snow would be crying. I should be crying, what with all this bloody homework I have to have done before tomorrow.

Knowing that he is crying merely a few feet away from me is making it impossible to concentrate on anything else. At least I know I’m not the reason he’s upset, although I have made him cry a few times in the pfast. After fifth year, I tried to be more conscious of my words, making sure that teasing him never crosses the line into hurting him.

“Snow, are you…” I start, trying to make my voice as non-patronizing as I can.

“No,” he replies before I can get the rest of my sentence out, his voice raspy.

“Excuse me?”

“You were going to ask if I’m okay. The answer is no. And I know you’re asking because you pity me, not because you care. So I’m not going to bother answering your next question, which is going to be ‘what’s wrong?’.”

“...That’s not what I was going to ask at all.”

“It’s… not?”

“I was going to ask if you needed the shower,” I sneer, standing up and making my way to my wardrobe across the room. This is a terrible save, because usually he showers in the mornings, but he must buy it because he just utters a small ‘oh’ from under his arm.

I just need to get away from his crying before I try to do something about it. Like hug him. If I tried to touch him, that would surely be the end of me, anathema ignored. Even if he didn’t kill me, I’d die just as easily of embarrassment.

There’s also the possibility of me making it worse, whatever is going on with him. I told myself to be more conscious of my words, but he makes it so damn easy to insult him when he’s pushing me. Sometimes I think he actually enjoys fighting with me. Then I remember he must, because for some twisted reason, I like it too.

I grab my stuff and shut the door to the bathroom. I marvel at the absence of Snow’s dirty towels on the floor, but notice he’s left the cap off his toothpaste again. I shake my head and smile before I recap the toothpaste, then turn on the shower head.

Once I’m in the shower it’s easier to think. My thoughts flow from Snow to the Leavers Ball like lava in a lamp. Sometimes the thoughts come together and I have to tell myself ‘no, bad Baz. That is not happening, and you know it.’

I end up spending way longer in there than I should, and the water goes cold.

x simon x

Once Baz is in the shower it’s easier to think. I stopped crying after talking to him, which is odd, but I’m relieved. Maybe I was just cried out and all dried up. I don’t enjoy crying, so I’m thankful I’ve stopped, but I still feel like something’s wrong. Something’s missing.

This is all wrong. So wrong. The way Agatha held my hand on the way to her building, like my hand was too big for her. Like we didn’t fit. The way Penelope seems to be spending more time talking about the ball than reading these days. The way nobody seems to be feeling scared about their future except me.

It feels like everyone has got it all figured out. Penelope and Agatha know exactly what university they want to go to and what they want to do with their lives. I don’t know anything, and I’m scared. I’m scared of being left behind.

It’s stupid. I know they’re not going to abandon me, but at the same time, why would they want me to stay in their lives? I’m a terrible mage. Eight years at Watford; by now I thought maybe I would’ve learned how to actually do magic correctly. It’s not the school’s fault, it’s mine. I’m a grenade, just waiting to go off. And Crowley, I wish I would go off already and get it over with.

x baz x

By the time I get out of the shower, Snow’s passed out. He’s not wearing the school pajamas he always wears to sleep. Instead, he’s still in his school uniform, lying almost the exact same way he was before I left the room. I wonder what he was doing the whole time and what he was thinking about.

I stare down at him, his freckles wet and his nose red, his hair mussed and falling into his eyes. His blanket has fallen on the floor sometime while I was gone. I hesitate, staring down at him, before grabbing the blanket off the floor and pulling it up to his chin.  He doesn’t stir, which is good because again, I’d die of embarrassment.

I clear the notes off my bed, feeling only slightly annoyed at Snow for distracting me from my homework. In all honesty, he’s always a distraction for me, even when he’s not there. And I can’t be mad at someone for being upset, because I highly doubt he’d make himself cry just to spite me.

Once I’m under my blankets, it doesn’t take long for sleep to pull me under too.

THREE

x simon x

“How do I look?” Penny twirls around once and then plops down onto Baz’s bed in front of me. She’s wearing a mint dress that goes just past her knees, and a matching silk shawl is wrapped loosely around her elbows. Her feet are bare; she’s left her shoes in the bathroom.

“Majestic,” I comment, as I loosen my green-and-black tie.

She snorts, “I’m not a horse, Simon.”

“You’re not? That explains a lot, actually.” This earns me a whack in the face with a pillow, one of Baz’s pillows, thrown at me in a low arch. I immediately retaliate with one from my bed, throwing it so it just barely hits her cheek, causing her glasses to become askew. She squeaks, then laughs, grabbing Baz’s other pillow and jumping up from his bed, towering above me. She starts pummelling me in the shoulder with it repeatedly, and I try to kick her away from me.

“Mercy, Penny, Mercy!” I gasp, trying to catch a breath in between fits of laughter.

“Don’t call me a horse!” she giggles, every word accented by another hit in the shoulder. It doesn’t hurt.

I hear our door creak open and we freeze, eyes wide, Penny hovering over me, her pillowed hand pulled back, ready to strike again, my foot pressed to her stomach, my hand reaching for the pillow. He clears his throat, and we turn our heads toward the door.

Baz has never seen Penny in our room. For eight years, we’ve been careful to have her out of the room before he gets back, but I’ve been so distracted lately that things like that have been regularly slipping my mind. The three of us continue to stare at each other, as if time is actually frozen. Penny is the first to break the silence.

“I’ll see you at dinner, Simon.” She lowers her head and walks briskly out of the room, accidentally hitting Baz on the way. He squints when she goes past, then lifts his chin a little higher and locks eyes with me. I lift my chin in response, matching his expression as best as I can, although I’m not exactly sure what his expression is. My eyes dart to the right, making sure my wand is still resting on my bed, should I need it. I hear Baz snort.

“Do you really think I’d waste my time hurting you over that,” he says as he crosses the room. I have the striking suspicion that the ‘that’ he was referring to is Penny.

“I thought you were at football practice,” I said dumbly, trying to come up with an excuse as to why Penny would be in our room, even though I know that’s a bad one. I decide to ignore what he said and grab my wand anyway.

“I was. Obviously,” I look down at his uniform and feel embarrassed. He turns towards his wardrobe, and I relax a little. “How did Bunce get past the gender barrier?”

“I don’t know,” I say truthfully, twisting my wand in my lap.

“You don’t know?” He chortles, then turns around with his pajamas in hand, “I hope you realize I have ways of finding out.”

“Well, if you figure it out, please tell me.” Baz shakes his head, most likely still not believing that I don’t know how Penelope gets in the room, then goes into the bathroom.

Not even a second later, I hear him shout my name. “Snow!”

“What?” I push myself off the bed and open the bathroom door. I look up at him, then my eyes follow where he’s pointing. There’s a pile of Penny’s clothes on the floor; her button-up, her tie, her socks, her skirt.

“Those aren’t mine.”

“I guessed,” he stares at me. “Well?”

“Oh, right.” I start picking them up, and I see him fold his arms out of the corner of my eye.

“Could we speed up this process, maybe?” He taps his foot impatiently, like he has somewhere to be. Stupid, annoying prat.

I stop what I’m doing so I can stand up straight and stare hard at him, then I drop the clothes back onto the floor. He scoffs, reaching the other end of the tiny bathroom in one long stride, arriving just a couple inches in front of me, still scowling. Now that I’m this close to him, I can see that a few strands of hair is sticking to his forehead with sweat from practice, and there’s a vein on his forehead pulsating.

“Anathema!” I remind him, before he tries anything. I can tell he’s annoyed, which was my intention, but he’s already tried to kill me a couple times and I’d rather not  make this the third.

“I could get Bunce in so much trouble,” he starts, ignoring me. “Don’t press me, Snow. If you press me, I’ll press right back,” he presses his hand to my chest as he says this, then pushes me out of the room and closes the door in my face before I can react.

“Are you just going to keep Penny’s clothes, then?” I call through it, a strange image of Baz in Penny’s clothes appearing in my head. I hear Baz let out an annoyed groan, and the next thing I know, the door flings open. Penny’s clothes come flying out at me and one of her shoes bounces off of the top of my head.

“Anathema,” I mutter, rubbing my head, but I know that he didn’t mean to actually hit me- at least, I don’t think that he did- and therefore the Anathema won’t affect him.

FOUR

x baz x

I wouldn’t actually rat out Bunce; I couldn’t care less about how it would affect her, but I know tattling would make Snow too upset. Besides, it’s more trouble than it’s worth, talking to the Mage, and I don’t think she’ll be coming back anymore anyways.

He’s been spending a lot of time with her lately, I’ve noticed. Snow always follows around Bunce like a puppy on a short leash, but usually Wellbelove is hovering somewhere close by. I haven’t seen her with them for the past few days.

Not that I spend all of my free-time stalking Snow; it’s just hard to ignore his bouncing head of curls in the hall or his boisterous voice on the lawn, and I notice things.

I look over at Snow sitting just a couple seats next to me. We’re in our Ancient Runes class, the only class I share with him. It’s a pretty pointless subject, considering nobody actually uses this magic anymore. But it’s a required one, and thankfully, a pretty easy one. I spend most of the class staring out the window and wishing I was almost anywhere else, with the monotone voice of the professor as background noise to my thoughts.

Snow is scribbling notes lazily with his fountain pen, occasionally looking up to see if our professor has broken his lecture to write anything important on the board (spoiler alert: he hasn’t). Sometimes he’ll furrow his eyebrows and stare down at his paper before scratching something out then writing furiously over it. How Snow can remain animated in a class as boring as this one is beyond me, but I’m glad he does.

I feel vulnerable staring at him in class, but he’s the most interesting thing happening at the moment. He’s always the most interesting thing happening, but now that my choices are limited to watching him or watching dust settle on the windowsill, this is even more true.

I look past him and see that Wellbelove is staring at me. Well, that’s odd. She notices that I’m looking at her and flushes. She dips her head down to look at her notes, and I do the same.

Oh Merlin. There’s ink on my hand and my notes are smudged; tiny little hearts are scattered in the margins. Is… is that why Wellbelove was staring at me? She couldn’t have seen what I was doing (I didn’t even see what I was doing)- she’s sitting too far away.  

After class is over and I’m almost out the door, I see Wellbelove rush from her seat towards me. “Wait- Basilton!”

There’s no chance for me to pretend I didn’t hear her- we’re the only people left in the classroom. I sigh and turn to her, “yes, Wellbelove?”

“I…” she takes her place in front of me and we end up standing beside the classroom door. “Y-you were staring at Simon. You’re not going to hurt him, are you?”

I laugh harshly, pleased with Wellbelove’s assumption. “If I was going to hurt him, wouldn’t that be only my business and his?” I start walking, hoping she won’t follow. Not much luck there.

I make long strides, and Agatha’s feminine legs struggle to keep up with mine. I can still hear her chasing after me once I’ve made it outside. Can’t she take a hint?

“Stand Your Ground!” I hear her cast, and I groan. Apparently taking a hint is not one of Wellbelove’s many talents. She circles around me, throwing her long blonde hair over one shoulder.

“What are you planning?” She demands, pointing her wand at my chest. I don’t say anything, not at all intimidated by her. She gets frustrated quickly. “Look, Simon is my b- my friend, and as his friend, it’s my duty to protect him.”

“Duty? He’s not a damsel in distress, you know- wait, did you say ‘friend’?” I smirk, not missing the way her voice faltered, like it pained her to say it. Did Snow and Wellbelove break up? Well, that would explain why he wasn’t as chipper as usual this morning before class. Usually he makes every noise possible while getting ready, but today, I actually slept an extra half-hour.

“I… That’s not your business,” Wellbelove mumbles sheepishly, shrinking back from me.

“Oh, so now we’re supposed to respect what is and isn’t someone’s business?”

She sighs. “You know, if you weren’t so… you… maybe more people would actually want to spend time with you.”

“Yeah? Like who?”

“Like me.”

I don’t mean to laugh, but that doesn’t stop me from doing it, anyway. “You? So that’s what this is really about? A social call? What, next are you going to ask me to the ball?”

Wellbelove doesn’t respond, just lowers her wand from my chest and stares at the grass.

“Merlin, you were! I can’t believe this! Well, I’m sorry to decline your offer, Wellbelove, but I actually planned on going alone. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble at all finding someone else at this school who would love to go to the ball with someone such as yourself.”

“Why do you always have to be so mean, Basilton? I’m sorry I asked, okay? Is that what you want? This was a… a mistake. I’ll just... leave.” Her voice is shaky, and if she starts crying, I’m going to feel like the worst person on the planet.

“Wait, Agatha… I didn’t mean to make you upset. I really do mean that there are plenty of other people who would love to go with you, if what you’re implying about Simon and yourself are true.” She nodded. “I guess you’re right….”

“Good. Now, undo the spell, please, and if this ends up affecting my ability to play football… then you’re really going to see how mean I can be.”

FIVE

x simon x

The thunder crackles around me, lightning illuminating our room through the window in rapid intervals like a polaroid camera. It’s the kind of storm that rattles windowpanes and makes you think there’s a war waging upon your doorstep with every boom of thunder.

I had dozed off with my face pressed against an open library book, and the thunder wakes me with a start, almost knocking me from my desk chair. My cheek feels sticky from what I assume is the result of my face being stuck to a page, but looking down at my book I realize it’s from the small puddle of drool I’ve created while asleep. It distorts some of the words on the already-yellow page. Gross.

After I stop gagging at my uncultured sleeping habits, I notice the windowpane is, in fact, rattling. Shit. I fully intended to close it once I saw the gray cumulonimbus clouds passing over the courtyard, but I was only really expecting a little bit of rain, not an all out flood.

No matter the circumstances, I pull the window close and assess the damage. The floor in front of it is soaked, and though it’s on my side of the room, I know Baz is going to be pissed when he finds out. I throw a towel over it, accomplishing almost nothing, then I decide that it looks suspicious and I dump a pile of dirty clothes on top of it. I can already hear Baz’s ‘I told you so’ tone about always leaving the window open, even though when it’s closed the room gets sticky and hot. The hotness may not bother him, with his constant chill, but I can’t stand it.

Mentioning of Baz, where is he? Surely he can’t still be in the catacombs when it’s pouring like this? I try to get a glimpse out the window when the lightning flashes, but even with the light, the rain is so heavy that it’s impossible to see anything.

I check the clock on my laptop and see that it’s close to midnight, which means I’ve been asleep for a good few hours, which means Baz has been gone for more than a good few hours. Where is he?

x baz x

There’s a lot to be said about someone who asks their dead mother’s grave for advice about a ball they hardly want to go to. I know she probably can’t hear me, but she’s the only person I’d want to talk to about all this. The only person I trust.

“Maybe you could take Fiona,” I say outloud to myself. “She’s young-looking enough to pass as a student. But what fresh ways of embarrassing me could she come up with?”

Because of this, I’ve been down here for far longer than usual. I usually leave once I feel full, but tonight I just feel like being alone. It’s quiet here, and nobody ever bothers me (except for Snow, but he hasn’t followed me here in ages). It’s almost peaceful enough that I could just lean my head against a wall and doze off….

I’m not completely asleep when I hear the first crack of thunder. I stand up swiftly, swaying with the quickness of it, and start walking back to the Mummers house.

I can see rather well in the dark, but the sheets of rain and the wind slow me down a little. My clothes must be ruined; I can tell I’m soaked to the bone because this is the coldest I’ve felt in a while. I fling open the door, not caring if I wake Snow up, focused on getting into something dry and warm.

x simon x

The door flings open and a flash of lightning backdrops a shadow that I don’t recognize as Baz at first, with his hair hanging like curtains in front of his eyes giving him the appearance of something from a horror movie. He stomps into the room leaving a trail of water behind him, and suddenly I don’t feel so bad about leaving the window open. His white shirt is clinging to him, and I can see through it to his pale torso. He looks like shit; I’ve never seen him so messy and uncomposed like this before.

I watch wordlessly as he shuffles through his wardrobe, grumbles something, then walks into the bathroom.

He’s back not even a minute later, and announces “Powers out.”

“I’m not surprised.” Only the plumbing runs on electricity at Watford; we use candles for lighting inside the dorms and the school buildings. The candles are magic and they don’t melt or need to be relit. I watch from the edge of my bed as he walks in front of me and opens a drawer to my wardrobe.

“What the hell are you doing?” I pop up and push the drawer closed, and he pulls his hands back in surprise, most likely because I was only a hair off from squashing his fingers.

He brings a hand up to his forehead and runs it through his hair, trying to slick it back. Most of it just falls back into his eyes again. I try not to laugh.

“I need a towel,” when he pushes his hair back the second time, I can see the whites of his eyes are slightly red, and I almost feel sorry for him.

“Oh,” I blatantly glance over at the spot by the window and then back up at him. “Er, I don’t have any more.”

He ignores me and tries to open my drawer again. “Hey! Did you even hear me? Stop trying to open my drawer.”

“Why, is that where you keep your skirts?” He smirks.

“No, because I don’t like you touching my stuff,” I say, frowning, my sympathy and patience for him leaving as quickly as it came. “And that was Penny’s!”

“Well, I don’t like you being in the same room as me, but you learn to deal with these things,” he retorts. I keep my hand pressed firmly against the drawer as he tries to open it again.

With a groan of frustration, he removes his hands and turns to me. Suddenly, his hand is on top of mine, and the cold wetness of his skin and the fact that he’s touching me leaves me too shocked to move. When he laces his fingers with mine, I yank my hand away and blink up at him.

Satisfied, he pushes past my socks and boxers, like I have a secret hoard of towels tucked away at the bottom of the drawer. My cheeks feel hot. With a soft “hm” he closes the drawer.

“I… I wasn’t lying,” I stutter. My cheeks feel really hot. I wish I could open the window without letting in the still raging storm, but I doubt that would help the storm raging in my stomach.

Baz crosses over me and produces pajama bottoms and a plain white polo from his wardrobe. My eyes follow him the entire way; he’s still dripping onto the carpet. “Snow, close your mouth. It makes you look ridiculous. Not that you don’t anyways.”

I feel sick, and I don’t know why. Maybe he hypnotized me or did some weird vampire magic that doesn’t require him to speak. Either way, I want it to stop. “I… I need some fresh air.” I sway, taking a step forward towards the door.

“It’s still raining. Or did you manage to forget? If anyone could, it’d be you.” Baz unceremoniously reaches behind himself and pulls his shirt over his head. He never gets dressed in the room, at least not when I’m around to see.

His torso is what you’d expect from someone who regularly plays football. He’s got muscle, but he’s still fairly lean, and he’s paler there than anywhere else. He doesn’t look bad, which isn’t really surprising considering how much pride he seems to take in his appearance.

All of this is so unlike him; the getting-dressed-in-front-of-me, the touching, his deep blue-water gray eyes looking red and glazed over to make a pale silver. Of course! The weird vampire magic wasn’t done to me, it was done to him! As much as I loathe Baz, I’d rather have him as a roommate than this imposter whose intentions I have no way of knowing.

My eyes widen as this creature throws the shirt onto his- no, not his- Baz’s bed, and I’m reaching for my wand faster than you can say Out, out, brief candle! Which I do, shrouding the room in darkness.

SIX

x baz x

“Merlin, Snow, what did you do that for?” I blink, my eyes adjusting to the darkness within a few seconds. I know Snow can’t see me, because he’s pointing his wand at least half a foot away from where I’m actually standing. He’s also holding it with both hands, his arms as outstretched as they’ll go without turning himself into elastigirl.

“What have you done with him? ...or to him, whatever,” his voice is resolute and final, like it’s definite that I know who ‘him’ is. I slowly pull on my shirt, careful not to make any noise in the process.

“Him who? What are you--”

“You know who! “ He shouts, his wand bobbing up and down with each syllable.

“Voldemort?” I smirk. “That’s not even the right fando-”

“See! Baz would never so blatantly break the fourth wall like that!”

“Baz-?” I start, but he cuts me off before I can even finish my sentence.

“Basilton Grimm-Pitch.”

“I’m… I’m right here?”

“RRRGGHH!!” Snow growls, pitching forward with a level of intensity and determination that I have never seen from him before-- and that’s saying something. He rams his foot into the edge of my bed and lets out a wail, dropping his wand and falling to floor.

I hastily pull my wand out of my trouser pocket and murmur If Only One Remembers to Turn on The Light, because for some reason, the only thing I can continue to think about while Snow is acting crazy is Harry Potter. The candles flicker again. He looks up at me like a wounded puppy, then hardens his expression and quickly reaches for his wand. He points it at me again, and stands, the toes on his left foot curled. “Don’t come any closer!”

I hold up both hands in surrender. “I haven’t moved a muscle since you ran at me.”

“Drop your wand!,” he says, and although it’s not a spell, I obey like it is, letting my wand fall unto the bed. “Where is he?” he demands again.

“Are you sure you haven’t got me confused with another Basilton Grimm-Pitch you know?”

“I won’t let you hurt him,” Snow pushes on, ignoring me. “and I’ll hurt you if you don’t tell me what you did.” He steps forward, and now his face is so close to mine that I can see each and every individual freckle on his nose.

“I didn’t… I mean, I am Baz-” he cuts me off by lightly pressing the tip of his wand into my neck.

“Don’t make me do this.”

“Simon,” I whisper, slowly moving my hand to push his wand down. His hand drops, and his eyes widen. I expect him to jump back, but he stays staring up at me. He’s breathing hard; I can feel his breath on my neck. Its warmness pools somewhere below my bellybutton.  

“So then… you are Baz?”

“Of course I am. And I’m very touched that you’d be willing to hurt someone for me, but you and I both know that you couldn’t do much damage with your wand.” I wait for him to protest, to spit at me and tell me to go fuck myself, but he doesn’t move.  “Who else would I be?”

“I just thought… I thought…,” he swallows, his eyes still wide.

“You thought…?” I try not to stare at his slightly-parted lips as I wait for his answer. He’s so close to me and I don’t really trust myself not to do anything about it, so I grab his elbow and push him back a little. Just a step; I don’t want him too far from me. He doesn’t flinch when I touch him, so I don’t move my hand.

He doesn’t respond. “Well, whatever it is, you thought wrong.”

Now he’s blinking, his eyes pinned to my chest, staring right through me. It’s like someone’s cast a Stay, Stay, Good Boy! on him. “Snow? Are you okay?” A-and I’m asking because I’m concerned, not because I- how did you put it?- ‘pity you’.”

He looks up at me as if he’s just come out of a trance. “I’m fine,” he squares his shoulders and I drop my arm before he realizes it’s there.

“I don’t think you are. Your face is really red, do I need to get someone-”

“No, don’t. I’m fine. I don’t want you running after me; if I needed something, I’d get it myself. I don’t need  you.”

“I never said you did…,.” I mumble, but he’s already walking away from me. I feel like our conversation is over, and now we’re going to go back to ignoring each other for the rest of the night. Now that we started talking, I certainly don’t want to stop. I never want to stop talking to Snow, but something feels… different tonight. I’m worried about him, if I’m being honest.

I emerge from the bathroom, changed into my jeans, feeling dryer and warmer. My hair is clumping together and falling in my eyes, but I guess I’ll just have to deal.

“Me and Agatha broke up.”

“I-- what?”

“The other day.”

“Okay?”

“She said it was because of you.”

I sit down on the edge of my bed, parallel to him. He’s sitting on the edge of his, too, his elbows digging into his thighs and his hands in his hair. I wait for him to look up at me, but he never does. I wonder if that would hurt more.

“I don’t know why she would say that,” I admit, thoroughly confused. Wellbelove didn’t speak to me until after the two of them had broken up.

“That’s all she told me.”

“Oh. Well… she did try to ask me to the ball…,” I offer, not wanting to keep any secrets from him.

“What?!” His head snaps up, and there’s more heat in his eyes than in all the lit candles in the room combined. I hold up my hands in surrender.

“I didn’t do anything, Simon. I don’t like her in the slightest, and even if I did, I wouldn’t do anything about it. It’s not honorable to pine after someone who's in a relationship, though, sometimes you can’t exactly choose who you fall for….”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.” He’s right. I shrug.

He sighs, then falls back onto his mattress with a soft thud, thoroughly breaking our brief moment of eye contact. “Man. This sucks. I’m going to the ball alone, and my ex-girlfriend is going to it with my roommate.”

I laugh. “Simon, I told her no.”

Simon sits up again, leaning forward towards me from his bed. He’s a little too close for my liking. “You did? But why?”

Despite this, I do nothing to widen the distance between us. “I told you. I don’t like her.”

And neither does he. But what he does do, is smile. I can’t help it; I smile too. “Well, this sucks considerably less, but it still sucks. I still have no one to go with.”

“What about Bunce?”

“She didn’t want to say she’s going with me then feel bad later when she inevitably spends most of the night talking to Agatha.”

I nod. After a moment of silence, I speak again, “I could go with you.”

“Um,” is all he says. Then he blinks and leans back away from me.

“I…,” I start, then stop again. I don’t know how to dig myself out of that hole. Thankfully, I don’t have to.

“You know what? Sure. My week has already been awful; what harm is this going to bring? And anyway, we won’t have to ever see each other again afterward.”

I nod, unable to speak, my stomach twisting for more reasons than one.

SEVEN

x simon x

“Sorry,” I say as I look down to tie my bowtie.

“Why?” Baz asks, already completely ready, waiting for me at the door.

“First off, for taking so long, second off, for us not matching. Agatha’s dress was… what did she call it? Chartreuse? Anyway, I thought it was an ugly color, but I didn’t tell her that.”

“It’s alright. Your tie is still crooked, though.” The usual snarky comments from Baz have returned, but this time, it’s not said with any snark at all. It feels weird. It’s like eating a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich without the peanut butter. Though, I suppose that’d just be toast.

“Rrrrgh!,” I growl in frustration, not sure exactly how to tie a bowtie. Or any tie, for that matter. “Can you just tie it for me?”

“Um…” Baz looks me up and down, then furrows his eyebrows. “I-- I guess, yeah.”

He helps me, his hands shaking slightly for some reason, then we’re ready to leave.

Though we’re not linking arms or doing anything to really draw attention to ourselves, some of the people look surprised to see Baz and I walk through the door together, including Penny, and especially Agatha. I hover awkwardly in the doorway for a bit while Baz goes over to the table filled with finger foods. Penny leaves Agatha for a moment to come talk to me.

“Hey, Simon...,” she begins, slowly. Then, all at once, “can I just ask--”

“It’s not a big deal.” I shrug. And it isn’t. And it shouldn’t be. We just walked through the door together; nobody should be reading too much into it. “I know I’m not going to be spending most of the night with you guys, so--”

“Hey, no, don’t even say that. I’m still here for you, no matter what. You were my friend first, okay? I’m not taking sides.”

I frown. “How can you even say that, Penny? How can you say that, when you ditched me for her.”

“Simon, we were getting ready!”

“All weekend?”

“It’s what girls do, Simon.” She rolls her eyes, and I hate that she decided to wear her purple glasses with her mint-green dress, and I hate how beautiful I still think she looks in her dress even though I’m angry at her. I hate that our friendship is falling apart at this very moment, and it’s all my fault somehow. Most of all, I hate that I’m not actually angry at her. I’m sad, and I just don’t know how to handle that.

So instead, I don’t. I walk away from her, pressing the ball of my palm into my left eye. This was supposed to be our final adventure at Watford. I was supposed to be making small talk with Penny and Agatha about our outfits and plans for the future, but instead, I’m walking away from whatever friendship I had with them and trying not to cry.

I bump into someone, and for the first time in forever, I’m glad to see that it’s Baz. “Simon? Are you okay?”

I nod, even though it’s a lie that I know Baz will see right through. “I’m fine, I just… Penny was.…”

He looks disappointed in me and I feel ashamed. “You didn’t try to talk to her, did you?”

I nod again.

He sighs and offers me the sour cherry scone I didn’t realize he was holding. “Here. I know they’re your favorite.”

“You do?”

“Mm-hm,” Baz says, offering no other explanation. Nevertheless, I take it and thank him, eating it in only three bites.

The loud, upbeat music stops, and for a few seconds, spare for the quiet chatter here and there, it’s quiet. Then it’s replaced by a slower song, which I wouldn’t know until later was “Anathema” by Twenty One Pilots (I always wouldn’t realize how fitting it was until much later, too).

“Come on, Baz. Let’s go dance,” I say grabbing his hand. He flinches, then slips his hand into mine, lacing our fingers together until we get toward the middle of the dance floor, where he then moves his both hands to my shoulders.

“Why? Why are you slow dancing with me? You hate me.” He practically spits the word out, but his voice is sad. I shake my head.

“I don’t hate you, Baz.”

“Since when?”

I shrug from under his hands. “I don’t know. Do I have to figure that out now? I just want to live in this moment.”

He nods. “Okay, Simon.”

“Okay, now it’s my turn to ask: since when?”

“What?”

“Since when have I become Simon to you?”

“You’ve always been Simon to me. You’ve always been a lot to me, actually, but I didn’t really realize what exactly I thought of you until fifth year.”

“I don’t really understand what you mean,” I admit.

“Simon.” He slides one of his hands up from my shoulder to my cheek. It’s cold, and I’m pretty sure he can feel my heart thudding heavily in my cheek. “Can I kiss you?”

I swallow. I don’t think I realize what I’m agreeing to once I say yes, but Baz certainly does. And as he kisses me, I don’t feel like the Leavers Ball was my final adventure at Watford.  

It’s only the beginning of a new one with Baz.

[itsjayyyy]

July 24, 2019 2:19 pm

Have I studied like I said I would? No. Am I in dire need of an update? Yes. Looks like there’s only one option.

okay so I have to go all the way back to june 26th, huh? Well rose REALLY didn’t take the talk about her finances well. She acted as if I was still just mad at her over memorial day, as if she wasn’t a massive burden on our parents. See that’s the difference between rose and I; when I see that I’m a burden on someone else I remove myself from their life so that I don’t hurt them, but rose just doesn’t give a fuck. She’ll be a leech for her entire life and not even bat an eye. Anyways that’s not the point. She wouldn’t say it to my face, but clearly she heard what I had to say. Apparently iris told me that rose was shocked; nobody had ever told her that before. Which is surprising to me, why would mom and dad and iris all tell me about how tired they were of rose being a mess but not say it to her face???? I swear I’m the only person with a spine in this family.

Anyways rose plans to move out in september now, and shortly after she announced that, mom and dad made plans to move back to michigan in november. I haven’t been talking to rose, but I really hope that she sees the direct relationship between the time that she’s moving out to the time that they’re moving out. Since she’s making progress towards fixing her finances, I’d say that issue is a closed case now.

But really, I never looked down on her for her life being a mess. To me, you can do whatever; get a college degree, not get a college degree, work minimum wage, make six figures, none of it really matters to me. I only care that you treat me with respect, treat me like a friend. My issue with her, and not just on memorial day, has been that she doesn’t listen. I told her that on my birthday this year, three months ago, and no change. Memorial day just served to reinforce the idea that I’m just a side character in life to her. She tried to twist it and say “you’re making me choose between you and my boyfriend” which is a load of shit, I’m asking that you DON”T choose between us and rather treat us equally. Or at least, I dunno, say one word to me when the three of us are together so that I know that you still acknowledge me. Or I dunno, maybe not invite your boyfriend to family events when the rest of the family hasn’t explicitly invited him?

Iris has been in town since the whole issue with rose. I hung out with her a few times, but I never saw rose. Iris has told me a few things. I knew that, a while ago, peter proposed to rose and rose broke up with him, for four hours, before she asked him to take her back. He said no, so she bought him an xbox and (according to iris) some weed, because rose said “he can’t say no to me when he’s high.” I really want to say that she meant saying no to her asking for him to take her back. I really want to say that she didn’t rape him. But I can’t. I can’t even say that those four hours were just so that she could think, knowing that she’s cheated on every boyfriend she’s ever had. Honestly I don’t think I can ever look at her the same. Iris wants to give her the benefit of the doubt, saying “we don’t know if she raped him” but I’m not gonna give her that just because she’s a girl, or my sister. Those words came out of her own mouth, after all.

On Saturday, when I got off work, iris and I met up because we planned to see rose at the mall. Iris was leaving on sunday, and she wanted to get a group pic of us. Frankly I can’t stand that iris, despite nonstop talking about how rose is becoming more and more toxic and manipulative, still wants to be on good terms with her. But then iris explained, how when she first moved up to chicago, she thought she’d visit later and see everyone as usual. But before she could come back to visit, her sister in law died. (The main reason for the visit is so that they can help the family fight for custody against the bio dad). She said she was worried that, like her sister in law, she would go to chicago mad at rose and then who knows, what if rose dies while iris is in chicago and they never got closure too? It’s a reasonable fear, but I guess I’m just too hardheaded to feel it too. 

Anyways, we’re at the mall, nick and peter go to gamestop so the three of us could talk in private. This was my plan for how I wanted the conversation would go: I explain that I personally didn’t agree with the texts I sent her about her finances, but that the rest of the family was growing annoyed with her and I was the one tasked with telling her. She would have the chance to tell me what she felt, and what she’s done, etc. We close the finances chapter, and move on to her personality, which I considered to be the ACTUAL issue. I would let her know that I didn’t like that she clearly didn’t care about me. She never listens to how my day was (as in, she’ll be physically present when I speak but she’ll literally be texting peter as I’m talking). She doesn’t take ANY criticism at all. As in, she’ll blow up at you if you even imply she’s not perfect. The whole peter break up situation. I wanted her to know that it’s not okay for her to treat people as machines where she just needs to do xyz to get them to do what she wants. That people have feelings, that people are *human* just like her, and we all deserve to be heard. She never listens to listen, she listens to come up with an argument in response. She lacks empathy.

As you can guess, that’s not how the conversation went. Before I could get two sentences into telling her about how the finances thing, she cuts me off and starts talking about how I “don’t even care about her achievements” and starts talking about how she’s an expert at car pricing (she works for a scrap dealer, they price vehicles by amount of steel) and she knows better than nick, who is an auto insurance adjuster with years of experience. I jump straight to “you don’t listen to listen, you listen to argue” and from there it’s nothing but cutting each other off. Iris tried to keep the peace by making us take turns, but rose cut me off on my turn so I was like ya know what? This bitch clearly will not listen, despite the fact that I’ve tried to listen when she was cutting me off. I give up. So I figured since there was little chance at salvaging the discussion, I said “yeah, you’re right, the whole family is dissapointed in you because you’re twenty two years old and don’t have a degree, a car, a place of your own” and then she stood up and left. It was a really low blow for me to attack her like that, but it’s not fair that she can treat me like literal shit for years but I can’t even dish out a few insults one day. 

Iris, nick and I leave to go to my apartment, where we all calm down, pet mango, look at motorcycles. Then we went to get tacos, then I went home. 

Sunday night, iris says that she’s about to leave town, and wanted to see me one last time. We met up at the starbucks near my apartment. Frankly all of sunday I was just marinating in my emotions, and meeting at starbucks finally let it all out. 

One thing that I’m surprised took me 20 years to realize: rose is actually the root of all of my insecurities. And no, I’m not just saying that to make her look like the bad guy because I’m mad that she cut me off. Think about it. Where did I get the idea of “speak only when spoken to” imprinted into my head? When my parents forced me to be with rose after school and rose and her friends all treated me as an annoyance. How they ignored me, tried to act like I wasn’t there, while they all had fun together. The way they would literally pay me to leave them alone, sometimes. What about my incredibly bad body dysmorphia? Maybe the way her and her friends used to say “oh, you’ll have a glo up some day jasmine” as if I was ugly at the time. How I was just rose’s ugly little sister to them. Or, most glaringly, the time that rose did my makeup when I was 15 or so, and she took a step back to look at it halfway through, started laughing, and said “you just look so ugly.” I cried in the bathroom for 45 minutes after that. And the worst part is that that memory feels so faded, like I almost forgot about it. What else did I forget?

Anyways I tell this all to iris, and she said that I needed therapy. I scoffed at that, of course, because I’m fine. (Narrator voice: She was not fine). I tell myself that I’m okay now, that the emotional trauma caused by rose is nothing but the past, that I’m a well adjusted individual now. Iris bet me $40 that I couldn’t get a date in a month to see how well adjusted I was. 

Easy as fuck, all I need to do is go on straight tinder. Men swipe right on literally anything, so it’d be easy as hell to get a date. I even wrote the most batshit insane bio ever (I literally talked about my issues with rose and the $40 bet), and within 24 minutes I saw that 99+ men had swiped right. I swiped left on at least a few hundred guys, before I finally swiped right on one. Apparently he super liked me, so I said “was the super like by accident or do you just have that poor of taste in women” and yet! we actually made plans. Like kinda plans, like “I’m free tomorrow if that’s not too soon, we could get sushi” so it wasn’t set in stone, but there was decidedly something. And he was cute, too.

Monday morning I woke up and immediately unmatched him, followed by me deleting my account. Followed by me crying violently in bed for two hours, thinking about how he would have thought I was ugly irl, that I really am hideous, and don’t deserve love. That I deserved to die alone, because I have no personality and I’m the ugliest person alive. It sounds overly dramatic to see it typed out, but man, that morning I really wanted to die. That’s when I realized that maybe iris was right, maybe I do need therapy. 

But this is my issue, I don’t like letting people know about my feelings. I feel like I look weak. And it’s so easy for me to just, not tell a therapist things, because it makes me uncomfortable. I tried therapy a year ago, literally all I did was say “yeah I’m fine :)”. I’m starting the online therapy sessions that my college offers, because I don’t have to talk to anyone for it. And on top of that I have all of those things that I’m planning to do that I wrote in the last 2 updates. I want to improve my life, and I’m gonna start on it now. 

Tuesday I texted peter, letting him know my side. He said “I have my own opinions on the matter” and by that I assume he means his opinion is that he’s on rose’s side, of course, otherwise he would have stood up against her. After seeing that I left class an hour early and cried in the bathroom. I thought I was being quiet but this girl in the stall next to me knocked and asked if I was okay (I said yes). 

And yeah, like I said in the last update, it hurts that rose (and peter) are pretty much cut out of my life. They were kind of the only friends I had. But I have to remind myself that this is the exact same situation I dealt with in sophomore year of high school, with jackie. She stopped being my friend, and because of it I lost all of my friends. But this time around I’m gonna be able to meet new people, and a lot easier, since I’m in college. As a matter of fact, I got an email from this sorority I plan on joining today. I need time to heal, but I will heal.

And as soon as I get my braces off, I’m going to maybe try tinder again (no!!!!! I just said I don’t like tinder!!!!!! but maybe I’ll try again when my braces are off......)

Anyways, let me tell you about today, wednesday (we finally reached the end!). I woke up, scrolled through my socials like usual, then watched a few really old music videos. Like, pop punk old. Went to publix, got my waffles, then came home and watched the next episode of ore monogatari, basically as I had planned. But then I just started slacking because I didn’t feel like studying (I still haven’t studied). Went through my main blog’s archive. I really noticed that my blog has been dead exactly since I moved out. I guess I’ve just been too busy. My dashboard isn’t really my style, it’s very multifandom when these days I really only care about bts. I think I’m gonna get back into tumblr, at least it’s more stimulating then scrolling down the same reddit posts 20 times an hour. Anyways I saw my posts from when mono came out and MAN that’s some strong nostalgia. It was only about 10 months ago, but it feels so distant. That’s when I lived with my parents, and they were on vacation so I had the house to myself. While rose went to a halloween party, I stayed home and watched the forever rain music video on repeat while downing 4 beers and doing my econ homework (I got a 100 somehow, despite being sloshed). Anyways I’ve been listening to it on repeat the entire time I’ve been writing this.

Okay it’s 3:44 now. Man, this was a really long update. I think now I’m gonna make my cesar salad that I bought from publix, then study. I mean, the lowest test grade is dropped and I already passed the first two exams, so no big deal. Ugh I wish rose could buy me another pack of cider right now.