#(<- neither of them were essays. but they were long written pieces so.)

[aerowolf]

How Medic Had VHS Tapes Before They Were Allegedly Invented

Emesis Blue, the psychological horror film based off of the hit first-person shooter game, Team Fortress 2, created by the studio Valve, is by all accounts an odd and unexpected masterpiece of film. Though most are set on explaining various time loops and the ending, I am not. Regardless of the fact that I understood neither of those things, I have arrived with a theory of my own. Because I have spiralled into a chaotic mode of over-analysis, specifically over a scene which is, at best, five seconds long. Should you choose to follow me and indulge in my delusions, I can guarantee you that I have something that may not interest you, but is long and heavily interests me.

PART I: WHY AM I LIKE THIS?

I’m literally neurodivergent and a minor. I have no answers for you. Moving on.

PART II: HOW COULD MEDIC HAVE VHS BEFORE IT EXISTED?

The point of this over analytical essay is to discuss why the Medic, also known as Doctor Fritz Ludwig, would have access to VHS tapes in a time when they did not in fact exist at all. The film is set on halloween--October 31, 1968. VHS tapes were not widely available to the public until 1976, and it is said that the development of VHS began sometime in 1969. Neither of these facts account for Medic’s possession of them. So where did he get them from?

We can begin by breaking down what they are and who made them.

These two images clearly display some of the VHS tapes which fell out of the box during the first couple of scenes of Emesis Blue. They are labelled “das grinsende gesicht” and “der könig in gelb.” These translate to “The Grinning Face” and “The King in Yellow,” both of which are pieces of media. The former is a silent German horror film released in 1929, and the latter appears to be the German translation of the title of a collection of short stories written by Robert W. Chambers. The title is also the title of a play within the collection which is said to drive anyone who reads it mad. However, the latter was never made into film. This information, while interesting, is not really important to my theory. But now you know. There’s symbolism to it of course.

Now, these tapes are clearly marked with the Mann Co. logo. This infers that they are produced and distributed by Mann Co. Considering their involvement in covert operations, projects, and their possible or perhaps even outright government connections, it is possible that Mann Co. invented or at least had production access to VHS before anyone knew about it. Perhaps they had a reason for holding them back? The box in his office is full, but it is not the

largest collection it could be, and it appears to be a mix of both legitimate or pseudo-legitimate films and personal or corporate videos. Considering the fact that VHS tapes are only seen in Ludwig’s possession, and that they contain the Mann Co. logo, it is safe to assume that they are produced by Mann Co. and solely distributed to those employed by them.

This offers a simple explanation as to why Medic has them before they should have existed. Mann Co. is not known for their transparency, often keeping things secret, even things that would objectively change the world. However, this does not offer an explanation as to what happened that led to the public release of VHS afterwards. So this brings us to our next section….

PART III: HOW AND WHY DID VHS BECOME WIDESPREAD?

It is said that production and development of the VHS began in 1969. Over the course of Emesis Blue, the Mann brothers, Redmon and Blutarch, are murdered. This occurs sometime in early November 1968--likely specifically November 3, as the agent who debriefs Soldier at the end of Emesis Blue--Agent Stemmons--mentions to him that the funeral of Governor Archibald is on Sunday. Assuming that this debriefing takes place directly after the events of halloween 1968, which fell on a Thursday, that leaves November 3 as the most likely date.

Seeing as the Mann brothers are now dead, and as there is no mention of Gray Mann interfering with the rest of this plot, it’s possible that Mann Co. is now disbanded, leaving them no means by which to distribute this technology. It’s then highly possible that the sole survivor of the Conagher slaughterhouse, Soldier, also known as Jane Doe, is the one who brought VHS to the world. While it is also possible that Gray could have done it, we’ll assume he doesn’t even exist in this universe, as his role is noncritical to it,

Here is how Jane could have single handedly brought VHS to the rest of the world.

Scarred by the events of October 31, 1968, he decided that the VHS tapes invented by Mann Co were actually a useful invention, and that the public should have access to them. After the death of the Mann brothers he tried to spread them and rebrand them, but quickly learned that they had some form of mind control within. This led to him bringing some of the tapes to a group who could disable this feature. However, that in turn led to them having to be completely redesigned, as the manipulation was ingrained too deeply into their design, which hence explains the delay of them being released widespread. VHS was first publicly released in Japan in 1976, which also points to the group Jane went to being Japanese. Shortly after, in 1977, VHS was also released in the United States.

And that is the story of how Team Fortress 2’s Soldier single handedly caused the public release of the VHS technology across the world.

[nicotachi]

(i was inspired by the prev reblog but i figure my tags were quickly devolving into a "make your own post" moment)

the thing about ganyu is that i REALLY like the lore they've provided us with, enough to construct a complex and nuanced character that goes beyond the few glimpses we see of her in the liyue archon quest.

my hot take is i actually, don't really care whether or not those things are explicitly shown in the main storyline. i ship gq for god's sake, and i've never wanted more than a nod for either (i feel like i always have to clarify: i don't particularly expect or even want them to become canon), because i love when the audience is trusted to connect the dots themselves. i know that in fanwork, there's a fine line between assembling the puzzle pieces deliberately left by the creators and making a sandwich out of discarded bread, but i like to think of it as the former.

but what i don't appreciate is yeah, why are they filling her precious screentime with fat jokes and being sleepy or timid?? chenyu vale already showed that they cannot be normal about a woman without injecting weight insecurities. the sleepy girl thing has also been done so many times that i could name like five female characters who have it as a core personality trait. i just don't understand the logic. hbomberguy once pointed out in his "why r*by is disappointing" video essay that it was almost like two opposing forces were writing the same characters and i see that here a little bit.

ganyu in the side materials (story quest, world quest mentions, body language in the CINEMATICS, etc) comes off as a very firm and wise person, while ganyu in the most recent lantern rite is in a constant state of fatigue or discomfort. neither of those are emotions or personality traits!! she's treated as a placeholder at times when they could easily call back to the other, more interesting things they've written about her in the game.

but as an aside: i don't actually agree with any sentiments that favor her soldier past over her secretary role. i believe both are important parts to her just as she is half qilin and human. to box her into one thing or another kind of misses the point of her character imo, that people contain multitudes, and can drastically change over a long enough stretch of time and circumstances.

[reginavulturum]

Terry's Birthday: Fandom, the Internet, and Citations

Or, a too long, too in depth essay on a fictional character's birthday

If you aren't thinking I'm a total nerd by the time you're done reading this than you didn't really read this. But, let's start at the beginning. Recently I posted a timeline I made for "Batman Beyond" and in the time since I made that post there's been something I've seen pop up in tags which I'd never heard of before. A few people were saying that Terry's birthday is August 18th. I was really interested in the source of this claim because I had no recollection of ever seeing it anywhere before now. I looked it up on google (as you do) and found this date scattered around the internet. Case closed, right? But I quickly realized there was a consistent problem on every site I came across. None of them cited a source for Terry's alleged August 18th birthday.

Just look it up yourself and you'll find that the date is ubiquitous across the internet. Yet, as far as I can tell after all my research, it's also completely unconfirmed. I mean, I may have missed something, but if I have than someone else is going to have to point it out to me. I also made a post prior to this one asking people to cite a source for Terry's birthday and no one has so far. You can have a look at that post if you want to know what I consider a good source on this subject. In any case, if this date or any other had been confirmed in any piece of media or in an interview with any DC creator involved in Batman Beyond than I think I would have found a citation for that source somewhere by now.

Right now it kind of seems like August 18th is fanon that's been recycled into "canon". This seems to have happened through a process of source-less wikipedia edits being parroted across reddit threads, sites featuring profiles of comic heroes, other wikis, etc. The less popular June 27th birthday for Terry seems to have gone through the same process. Here are links to some of these sites: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

As my research continued I came across some possible witness testimony of the first mentions of these birthdates:

a.) In this archived thread from the DCAU wiki, in quotations below, I've copied an excerpt of an exchange between two users that I feel is most relevant to this post (emphasis mine):

"So, I've noticed lately that a lot of different sites have been stating Terry's birthday to be August 18th with various years attached to the date. The earliest mention of which I could find is an edit to his wikipedia page in 2008 (which prior to the change stated his birthday was June 27th). I don't remember a mention of when he was born on the show or tie-in comics, and the third volume of comics didn't come out until 2010, so would anyone here know where these dates originate from? -- ReachingForRevolution (talk) 17:48, September 26, 2013 (UTC)"

"I've done some extensive timeline research, and I never came across a good source for those dates. All I saw was a wikipedia edit war with those two dates, but neither is correct AFAIK. The most cited year of birth is 2023, which is speculation as well, but there's at least some foundation for that. --Tupka217 17:56, September 26, 2013 (UTC)"

b.) A similar claim was made in this thread. The relevant excerpt, written by the user "Yojimbo" on October 16, 2023, is in quotations below (emphasis mine):

"No official birth date was ever given.

There was a wikipedia edit war in the 2000s but no source was ever given for either disputed date, June 27, 2023 and August 18, 2023."

As I've travelled down this rabbit hole, I've begun to suspect I won't be able to find exactly where it began, but this is as close as I've gotten. Allegedly, sometime around 2008, there was an edit war on Terry McGinnis' wikipedia page between at least two users over the birthdates of June 27th and August 18th. Now, how or why that edit war even started, I don't know. Why those dates, I also don't know. What I do know is that August 18th is the birthdate that gained the most popularity in the end and spread across the internet.

I'm not trying to step on anyone's toes with this post or call anyone out, really. If anything, this post exists because the subject was interesting to me and I've found the journey enjoyable. If you want to say Terry's birthday is June 27th or August 18th, then please do. Fandom is about fun, not perfectly sourced and cited dissertations on fictional teenagers' birthdays...unless, of course, that sort of thing is fun for you. I know I've loved every minute researching for and writing this...because I'm a massive nerd...but I certainly don't adhere to a strict reading of the timeline myself which is something I plan on covering in an upcoming addendum to my timeline.

In summary, my own research has produced no officially confirmed birthday for Terry McGinnis. This leads me to believe that August 18th and June 27th are fanon birthdates. It may be that I've just not found the citation for one or the other of these dates so I'm open to anyone who can provide me a good source. But really, none of this matters in the grand scheme of things, although it's interesting to see the way user edited/moderated wikis can sometimes bring less clarity rather than more. I'm sure this isn't the only example of that. Assuming I'm right and these birthdates are fanon, I wouldn't consider this a cautionary tale or anything so dramatic. Instead, I'd say this was a case study in the interaction between fandom collated information about fictional works as it exists across the internet and why the adage, "cite your sources", will never die...or something like that...

[grandhotelabyss]

Thoughts on Trump picking a writer as VP?

I haven't read Vance's book, so I don't know if he's a good writer, but I've heard it's a reasonably effective memoir, written mostly before he had this level of political ambition.

I just read his personal essay about his conversion to Catholicism today. I am cautious around writing that proclaims its humility and thereby forces me to search for its will to power; this is why I proclaim my will to power and allow you, but only if you want, to discover my humility, my debility, my "male vulnerability." Other than that, the essay is most moving and persuasive where it refutes the simplistic materialism of the likes of analytic philosophers and Sam Harris, and where he details his real spiritual experiences (I believe him). His critique of the left's superficially compassionate but actually cruel attitude toward the poor ("like sympathy for a zoo animal") is also exactly right. But I find it overly solemn, anxious, barely concealing the abandonment of his natal Protestantism for its plebeian or peasant quality—no less part of his desire for acceptance by an elite than was his earlier atheism. I was raised in plebeian or peasant Catholicism myself, on the other hand, which has nothing at all to do with the authorities he cites, like René Girard and St. Augustine. I look slightly askance on adult converts drawn in by the theology and morality. It has always seemed to me that the point of Catholicism—and I mean this much more religiously and much less blasphemously than it sounds—is the architecture and the incense, the barely sublimated sex and the eros of death. But I also love, as an outsider, the reckless, almost doom-seeking individualism of certain strains of Protestantism, some of them laundered as atheism. Since these seem to me to be the point of America, I am wary of overly intellectual Catholics and social democrats, their philosophies literally reeking of the over-crowded warrens of 19th-century Europe, moralistically tut-tutting about it. His second long quotation from Augustine gives me a chill, not in a good way. "[I]n his own affairs let everyone with impunity do what he will in company with his own family, and with those who willingly join him," our theologian jeers. Yes, Bishop, that's the American dream. Why not be a climate-doomer de-growther flinging soup in a museum with an attitude like that? The solution to poverty is abundance.

Possibly more significant for practical purposes, however, is Vance's tie to the literary-philosophical network around the Silicon Valley dissidents: Yarvin, BAP, and their associated publications and social media presences. (This is a good time to revisit James Pogue's Vanity Fair piece on the new right from 2022.) As Walter Kirn observed yesterday, that makes this election different from the last two. The last two were organized around the force of Trump's personality as he tried to hold together a fraying and fracturing Republican coalition of "provincial capital" (the proverbial boat dealer), the (mostly but not entirely) white working class, and the old Reagan Republican business constituencies of defense and energy, even as finance defected to the Democrats, while entertainment, academia, and intelligence pursued total war against their almost undefended reactionary enemy. The belligerent entrance of Musk and Andreessen into this election on Trump's side as representatives of big tech, with Vance as the political figurehead of big tech's literary and philosophical vanguard wing, makes it a much more even and generally significant contest: a true class war between incumbent and emergent elites. Literature has played no small part in this class war, as so many now widely-read writers and thinkers, love them or hate them, have resigned from the old left-liberal consensus. I don't mean to sound excessively neutral on the subject, but I belong to neither of the contending classes, and neither is at all democratic. I'm still not totally sure how the emergent elites' values are connected to a downbeat puritanical Augustinian Catholicism either, but since it seems to have everything to do with the aforesaid René Girard, we are still in the realm of literary theory if not literature.

In any case, the service of literature to any political faction or project should be the taming of its worser tendencies and the opening of its members to dialogue, irony, sympathy, and fresh perspectives. I will be told this is too idealistic.

[usmsgutterson]

Tis the damn season- give me a title, a genre and a character and I’ll write a fic!

i don't dance , fluff , pin hawthorne

I Don't Dance- Pin Hawthorne

Okay!! Thank you so much for sending this in! I'd been looking for a reason to write for Pin but hadn't come up with any feasible ideas for him so this gives me an excuse to finally write something!! Writing for Pin is always fun, and I’m really excited to write out the other requests you sent in for the holiday event!! Thank you for sending so many!!

Fic type- this one is probably the fluffiest piece I've ever written for Pin

Warnings- none

December crossed over Bright Fields on Thursday morning, the crew who worked there entering the stables to a ground covered in snow and a few solid months of stress waiting to befall their shoulders.

December was always one of the most stressful months to work at the stables, between working, preparing for exams at school and trying to find time to be a person outside of it all. Most days, while you worked, it felt like you were moving from one thing to the next, on a loop that would only end with the end of your workday.

Granted, while there were few stressless moments in the stables, everyone managed quite well to find them on their own.

For you and Pin, those fleeting moments were often ones where hugs from behind were delivered in passing, smiles passed along as Pin went in one direction and you went in the other. They were found when you and Pin could find a moment to talk in the offices, when the two of you were in the stables looking after your horses and would discuss the deeper things and the times where you'd be able to exist in a comfortable silence as the two of you worked within close proximity.

It was the truth, however, that you felt the least stressed when you were with Pin at the house that he'd inherited upon becoming a duke.

It was when you were sitting on Pins bed, blankets draped over your legs as you sat criss crossed with your laptop open to an essay, where Pin had been sitting to your left, head on your shoulder, the ghost of a smile on his face as he watched you type, that the stress faded down to almost nothing.

That day, though? You were with Pin, as you were most others. You'd been putting on one of his sweaters because of how cold it'd gotten with the impending snowstorm, a song from your playlist playing from it's spot in an old candle jar to dim the sound so that neither you or Pin stopped focusing on the last of your assignments before Christmas break or exams.

“How you can call this a holiday playlist when there are no holiday songs on it is beyond me.”

“The playlist isn’t supposed to have holiday music on it,” you defended, adjusting the collar of the jumper a bit as you spoke. It was a granddad jumper that Pin had owned as long as you’d known him, one that he tended to wear a lot more frequently as England succumbed to the hellishly cold weather that came with winter. “It’s music that reminds me of the holidays. Music that has the same cozy feeling as curling up and watching Christmas movies.”

Pin said nothing, so you continued. “I also created it with dancing in the sitting room in mind, but I haven’t gotten the chance to do that with you yet.”

“I don’t dance.”

“You’ve said the same thing at the winter formal every time we’ve gone,” you said pointedly. “And, to be fair, I wasn’t trying to ask you. I was just mentioning it, really.”

Pin turned to look at you, adjusting the sleeves to the black jumper he’d chosen as he spun around in the desk chair. 

“I’d be willing if you asked, but my room is too small. The sitting room is a bit of a better fit, I would say. There’s less to get in the way there. So long as we don’t bump into the couch, I’d assume we’d be fine.” 

You rolled your eyes but grinned. “For a man who says he doesn’t dance, you seem to want to quite a bit.” 

Pin grinned as he stood, shrugging. “Perhaps I do, but I ask that you don’t tell Zoe or Becky. I get enough slack from them about how eventually we’ll have to kiss when I walk beneath the exit of the stables where Elvis is kept, since Jade put a mistletoe above it at the start of this month.” 

You grinned, closed your laptop and stood, nodding. “Jade is the only person I’ll to whom I’ll tell the tale of the time we danced in your sitting room, and I’ll ask Becky and Zoe to get off your back about it. I would’ve thought Marcus told them we already had kissed under the mistletoe, anyway. He’s the one with the photos.”

“He sent them to me last night,” Pin said, grabbing his phone before the two of you moved to exit his room.  He turned his phone on, showing you his lock screen. It’d been the photo that Marcus had taken, you clad in one of Pins sweaters, him wearing one of the few you hadn’t stolen, arms wrapped around your waist while yours were on either of his shoulders. 

He unlocked it and showed you his home screen, the second photo Marcus had taken, the one that happened seconds after the first, where you had to pull away because neither of you could stop smiling. It was at that point that Marcus cheered and called you two ‘christmas lovebirds’ before approaching to ask about joining him and Mia on a triple date, one that Zoe and Becky were attending as well. 

You just grinned, taking his hand and interlacing his fingers as the two of you approached the sitting room. Pin let you go for only a moment to set the music, and as the first song started while Pin tossed his phone to the couch that’d been pressed against the wall, you laughed.

“You dissed it two minutes ago, and you’re playing a song from it now?”

Pin shrugged as he approached, giving you the kind of grin and look that he tended to reserve for your eyes only--the kind of grin and the kind of look that took away all of your doubts that he loved you, the kind of look and the kind of smile that made you feel like the luckiest person in the world. 

“You mentioned it was good for a slow dance or two,” Pin said. “I’m taking you up on that, seeing if you’re right.” 

You scoffed as you put either arm on either of Pins shoulders and Pin wrapped his arms around your waist. The song happened to be one of the slower ones on the playlist, one that was perfect to sway along to, so you did.

The two of you moved in a careless circle, talking and laughing and loving being in one anothers presence, the stress that you’d felt at the beginning of the day having dulled out almost completely. 

As the song ended and another song started, Pin laughed. “Fine,” he said. “I give it to you. This playlist is good for a slow dance.” The two of you stopped for a moment, and you let Pin spin you around before joining him again.

“I made the playlist so that I could trick you into dancing with me Christmas Eve,” you said. “I do love that you’ve decided to dance with me beforehand, but the plan to get you to dance this Christmas is still absolutely on the board.” 

“I don’t dance,” Pin said. You laughed, shaking your head.

“The fact that we’re dancing right now proves that to be a lie,” you said pointedly. “I’ll get you to dance on Christmas, Hawthorne. Just you wait.”

Pin pressed his forehead to yours, the two of you stopping your dance as the song continued. “I can’t bloody wait, then,” he said. “You and your tricks, my love.”

You pressed a quick peck to his lips, shrugging. “My tricks and I, darling.” 

[gryhmz]

They Were Always Allowed: A Personal Theory of TV Girl’s Hit "Not Allowed"

Hello internet, it's grim.

I just wanted to quickly thank everyone that went a read my last long post! My last post is probably the most popular piece of literary and analytical content that I have ever written, so I am happy that my writing is being seen by those in the community. As I start to write more over this year, I want a place to share my content beyond Tumblr, so if you're interested, I have opened up an Instagram account focused on advertising my blog here.

For this post, I plan to talk about another major interest of mine: Music and lyrical analysis. It's not something that I am totally great at yet, so please bare with me. Thank you.

Who Really Cares: The Inescapable Album of 2023

One of my favorite hobbies over the past few years has been rating albums and songs that I come across. It was something that I had picked up on when I was in 8th grade, and it helped me handle my emotions and stresses during a time of abuse. Now, as a college student, I rate albums as a past time, and I have come to enjoy it. In fact, a few of my college essays have revolved around music artists and the impact their music had on the world and myself.

Here are a few of the albums that I have rated over the past 5-6 months on AOTY.

Now for most albums, the rating process is fairly boring. I go through an album, pick out what songs I enjoyed and hated, and give my rating. Nothing out of the ordinary. But every once in a while, an album comes around that, for whatever reason, people on the internet flip the hell out over (regardless of whether the album is "good" or "bad").

90% of the time, I tend to wipe these albums off my list of albums to rate, typically because these albums tend to be overrated in some way, shape, or form. But in 2023, I could simply not get away from TV Girl's 2016 album, Who Really Cares. Despite the album turning 8 years old as of this year, I have still seen this album appear numerous times on YouTube shorts, Instagram stories, Instagram Reels, Twitter memes, and Spotify playlists. In fact, the reason why I even know of TV Girl is due to the fact that an ex of mine dedicated their hit song "Not Allowed" to me after our breakup. So I gave the album a 78/100 and moved on with my life (and my AOTY rating can be found here).

Fun fact: The source image for Who Really Cares originates from George M. Hester's The Classic Nude (Reddit). Arguably one of my favorite album covers of all time.

Most of the songs on the album aren't bad, and the unique sampling is extremely entrancing, but the album sounds the same throughout, with most songs lacking individual uniqueness. There were many instances in which I would attempt to write a short take on individual songs just to realize that I would be pointing out the exact same lyrics between two songs. For instance, "Not Allowed" and "For You" both use the "never intend to do what you say at all" line, which I found funny. While this could've been TV Girl using the line as a thematic or symbolic purpose throughout their album, it just felt lazy, especially since this doesn't occur in other albums that they've produced. Albums such as Summer's Over and Lonely Women were much better in terms of order, structure, and thematic principles than Who Really Cares, and neither of them have the repetition issue either.

"Not Allowed" and Misogyny : The Anthem of "Male Manipulators"

After rating and criticizing Who Really Cares back in mid-December, I didn't think too much else about it. Most of the traction around TV Girl started to die down, I started hearing their Tiktok-styled songs less, and many people started to drop the album as social media algorithms led the masses to other albums. Personally, I just liked a couple of songs and downloaded the album cover, and moved on.

A few weeks go by since I listened to the album and I decide that I want to change my profile picture on Steam. Not thinking anything of it, I changed my profile picture from Fleetwood Mac's Then Play On to a close-up of the man on the cover for Who Really Cares. Nothing too crazy, but this does go somewhere.

I hop into a good ol' game of CS2 with a few of my friends. We rage and get our asses kicked as per usual, but we eventually get paired up with another team that is more on our playing level. At the beginning of the game, everything was going well. Both teams were at about 3 or 4 points, so there was a chance of us winning. However, during the middle of the game, one of the teammates on the other team makes a comment about my profile picture being TV Girl, and claims that I was a listener of "male manipulator music." What?

I was so confused by what their teammate was talking about. What the hell is a "male manipulator?" Is it a man that manipulates people? Who is he manipulating? What does he get out of manipulating the subject in question? Or is it a woman that manipulates naive men? What does she get out of it? These questions wrapped around my brain that I had to team kill like three of my teammates to get off of CS2 to go do some research about this term.

Now from what I researched, there does not seem to be an official definition for the term "Male manipulator music." So I did what every other being on the internet does: I looked it up on Urban Dictionary.

Worst discovery ever. I listen to The Smiths, Deftones, and TV Girl so this is like my own personal 9/11.

In short, "male manipulator music" is a subgenre of artists and bands that have a fanbase of men that tend to manipulate women. Their unique yet depressing taste in music is sometimes used to reel in emotionally damaged and/or naive women into harmful relationship dynamics, hurting both the artist and their fanbase. It would be fair to argue that these men are almost like parasites to fanbases rather than part of a fanbase.

But this led me down a much larger rabbit hole regarding TV Girl that I had no run into back in December. Why is TV Girl thrown into this category of "male manipulator music?" So I went digging, and boy did I find some stuff:

(btw all the images are linked to my sources if you are interested in reading further)

Let's just say there are accusations galore about TV Girl and being misogynistic. From the lyric writing to the sampling sources, numerous cases and analyses have been written on TV Girl being misogynistic. Now, most of these are regarding different songs from TV Girl, so most of these might not apply to "Not Allowed," but then I kept running into more posts claiming that the entire point of TV Girl was to simply be misogynistic. That their aesthetic, mindset, and point of view was meant to put down women in a negative light as if men are superior, non-flawed beings. And the more I dug, the larger the accusations became.

Pack it up boys, we aren't allowed to listen to TV Girl anymore...

I was completely shocked. A song that I had picked up from an ex that helped me get through a rough spot in my life was now the target of a much larger campaign of women online claiming such music was meant to put them down? I wouldn't even care too much about the whole phenomenon, but it gets brought ALL THE TIME. And TV Girl has been making music for over 10 years.

With this rabbit hole successfully uncovered, I decided to write down the overall points that many critics point out regarding TV Girl's music.

TV Girl is misogynistic because:

Lyrics describe women in a humiliating and/or degrading manner

Songs are associated with or attract the previously mentioned "male manipulators"

TV Girl sympathizes with the male psyche post-heartbreak

Now that I had a list of reasons why people argue that TV Girl's discography is misogynistic, I am going to try my best to not only debunk these, but give my own personal interpretation of "Not Allowed," which I believe has been heavily misinterpreted and improperly characterized as an anthem for possessive, manipulative men.

Whack-A-Theory and Debunking Misogyny Claims

But before we can talk about the reasons why TV Girl's "Not Allowed" is misogynistic, we must first figure out just what "Not Allowed" is about.

According to the general consensus (aka the Internet), "Not Allowed" is a song about:

The feelings of a man who is rejected by a woman who is in love with someone else.

A man who fears to speak his thoughts on a love interest due to a fear of being socially criticized for speaking about sex.

Slut-shaming a woman who has rejected the singer.

Now, these are all very different theories, and even though they might sound similar since they revolve around a relationship dynamic filled with blurred lines, the implications of these theories vastly differ.

If any of these were MOST LIKELY to be true, it would be theory one. Let me explain:

First of all, "Not Allowed" DOES talk about sex. I'm not entirely sure why the second theory is thrown around so often in the TV Girl community, but it simply does not make any sense regarding the song. Furthermore, any basic research into the intro sample of "Not Allowed" would lead you to the feminist rap group Yeastie Girlz, which were known for their raunchy yet pro-women stance on sexual openness. In fact, the "song" that the sample is from is called "You Suck," which is a recording of the Yeastie Girlz talking about female oral sex in their album titled, Ovary Action:

For TV Girl to use such a raunchy sample in a song that is NOT supposed to talk about sex seems a bit ironic. While it could be argued that these underlying variables are meant to poke fun at the stigma of sexual talk, it wouldn't make sense for TV Girl to use those same elements as a way to insult the girl's partner either.

Take for example:

"But now he's playing with your head But did he ever make you cum?" Personally it doesn't make sense to me why TV Girl would take a jab at the sex stigma by using sexual acts to describe his bitter attitude. Furthermore, TV Girl pokes at the girl's sexual partner (or partners), singing:

"But how quickly they [the sonnets] turn sour So be careful who you screw."

Again, TV Girl's excessive use of raunchy samples and the jabs that the singer takes at sex itself doesn't add up to this theory. No one here is benefits from the negative usage of sex in the song, making this theory seem false.

While the second theory seems like complete bogus, the third theory could hold some weight. However, I think that there is more to this theory than what is presented online. While I will argue that the singer is shaming sexual actions within the song, I would say that the singer is taking more jabs at himself and the girl's current partner rather than the girl herself. Going back to the "messing with your head" lyric, TV Girl doesn't seem to take a jab at the girl having sexual intercourse with her current partner, but they seem to take a jab at the partner and how bad they might be doing at satisfying the girl's sexual needs. While one could argue that a jab at the girl's partner throws her in as collateral, the singer makes it very clear that his feelings towards himself are not great either, stating:

"I guess it's different 'cause you love him But I've got an interactive Sick and twisted imagination And that's gotta count for something" While the singer does not degrade himself to the same level that the girl's partner is subjected to, it is important to note that the girl is the one person in this entire song that is degraded THE LEAST. Not only does this disprove theory three, but it also disproves theories one and three of why "Not Allowed" is misogynistic. If "Not Allowed" was meant to take jabs at women, it would focus way more on the girl's actions rather than the singer and the girl's partner. Furthermore, the second theory on why TV Girl is misogynistic is just a lazy attempt to play the guilty by association fallacy. The only reason I would defend this argument was if "Not Allowed" was truly ripping on the girl the entire time throughout this song, which does not happen. Also, why would TV Girl use Yeastie Girlz as a sample if they wanted to push an anti-woman anthem? None of the reasons posted on TikTok make sense, and the fact that people pushed these theories regarding TV Girl's "Not Allowed" seems silly and lazy.

We Were Once Allowed, But TikTok Thinks We're Strangers

Now we are down to just one theory. I purposely held off the first theory because my theory and the first theory are pretty similar. While I do believe that the song revolves around the feelings of a man who is rejected by a woman who is in love with someone else, I believe we are hearing the perspective of a jealous ex rather than a stranger.

Let me explain:

When I first heard this song, it was after I had broken up with my ex. I'll spare you the details, but I've always seen this song as an ex that felt like he was pushed out of the way for another guy that was waiting for the girl to leave.

"Now you suck We wanna talk about sex but we're not allowed Well, you may not like it but you better learn how 'cause it's your turn now You're wasting your tongue with lame excuses and lies" This part is the singer talking about the girl, saying that she sucks. He goes onto say that they wanna talk about the sexual aspects of their relationship but they are no longer allowed to. I would argue that the singer is making the assumption that his ex is truly not over him and just hopped into a relationship for a rebound. The singer says it's the girl's turn now to hear what he has to say and that she should shut up and listen to what's in store. It could be implied that she has also gone around and spread a false narrative against the singer.

"So how should I begin this? I guess it started when you were with him. And how he never even took you out to dance But did he fuck with any rhythm?" Here we see that the singer is collecting his thoughts on when he was first made uncomfortable with the girl's new partner. He explains that the girl's partner never took her out to dance, implying that he might've during their relationship. The "fuck with any rhythm" could be taken as either him liking any music or rhythmic sexual intercourse. "But now he's playing with your head But did he ever make you cum? Did he ever make you cry?"

Moving on from the dance, the singer now leaves us with a dilemma. He claims that the girl's partner is playing with her head, which can be seen as the singer altering the truth to make the girl seem dumb, or he realizes that the girl is being taken advantage of for her partner's own sexual gratification. Personally, I'm choosing the latter. The singer then asks if her partner makes her cum or cry. Since this is in the past tense, it could be argued that this fling soon dies out or this is the current partner asking if the singer ever made the girl cum or cry, and the singer is just repeating the thoughts of the current partner.

"Do the wires in your mind get sewn together Rubbed and severed by the heat You don't know how long I could stare into your picture And wish that it was me" The singer now asks if there is a personal bond built between the girl and her partner. Based on the previous assumptions, we could argue "Yes" or "No." I would argue "yes" because the next line shows that the girl has taken pictures with the other person in question, making the singer wish that it was him. Again, this could also be seen as him feeling as if he is incapable of controlling ex or he's just jealous that she's with someone else after all that she's supposedly done.

"I guess it's different 'cause you love him But I've got an interactive Sick and twisted imagination And that's gotta count for something" Based on this, I feel like the ex might've complained about the singer's sexual habits. It might be implied here that the ex was disgusted by the singer's sexual interest towards her, but now it's different because it's someone else. The singer then gives himself the positive, claiming that his graphic imagination must be worth something.

Skipping the chorus becuase it's the same as the intro and I don't feel like repeating myself

"I dreamt I was standing in your doorstep Licking sweat off of your forehead With your finger in my mouth And the sound when leather jackets hit the ground" This could be the singer reminiscing on a past scenario in which he and the girl in question are being sensual. Nothing more to analyze. "You should hear when you're not around When it's just us horny poets Who can't wait to write it down And swear we were only being honest." I believe this excerpt is the singer rubbing the past into the face of the girl's partner. Almost like a "yeah we used to have sex too y'know" moment. It could also be the singer implying that him and his ex have made small talk since they've broken up, attempting to come to closure. Nonetheless, it's clear that this was aimed at the girl's partner rather than the girl.

"Do you like these little sonnets 'Cause I wrote them just for you But how quickly they turn sour So be careful who you screw And never call. And I'm starting to suspect You don't intend to do anything you say at all."

After taking his shot at the girl's partner, the singer seems to take aim at the girl. This time, he's offering a set of sonnets he's written about her, but they all have a bad ending. He claims that the sonnets are written this way because she had sex with him and then (possibly) ghosted him afterwards. He then finishes up the excerpt by assuming that his ex was a liar. This could be seen as the singer uncovering an abusive relationship between him and his ex.

"All by yourself, sittin' alone I hope we're still friends, yeah, I hope you don't mind." This is the part that led me to making this entire post. How could the singer and the girl "still be friends" if there was nothing else to begin with? You can't be friends with someone you never knew. This stupid verse led me to travel down a whole rabbit hole and a half just to give my own interpretation of the song, and I have no regrets. The singer is simply mocking the girl breaking up with the singer, claiming that they could still be friends and that she hope he doesn't mind, which is a common tactic that abusers might use after a relationship to hold some sort of control over their victim. This could be seen as an innocent ending to a falling out, or the ex looking for an avenue to hold onto the singer while he struggles with his own thoughts.

Conclusion

Regardless of whatever theory I or anyone on the internet come up with, I believe this song acts as a great litmus test as one's attitudes towards relationships. When I was scrolling through theories and the misogyny rabbit hole, I noticed that many people who wrote about "Not Allowed" focused on inputting their own experiences into the song, writing their theory as if the song was about their relationship. I would even argue that I did the same, and that's completely okay. I made this with the intent of simply debunking what has already been said about the song. While I think that anyone can have an opinion on what this song is supposed to represent, I didn't think any theory prior to mine was "the" meaning (as in what people should take the song as at face value). To put simply, I do not think that this song was about a male manipulator waiting to prey on his next victim, but the girl in question doesn't love him. If it was, then it wouldn't fit into Who Really Cares at all, for the album is about Brad's (the lead singer) troubled relationships with women. I think that's what people ran to because a majority of TV Girl's fanbase is women who have had shitty relationships, regardless of whether it was their fault or not. This has then led to TV Girl's reputation being about male manipulators because all the women in their fanbase simultaneously fear abusive men (and rightfully so). TV Girl simply reinforces that it could be either side's fault depending on how you look at both sides' cruel and immature behavior towards the fallout. I also found inspiration for this song analysis from NEOPUNK (it's a good listen check it out):

If you've read through the entirety of this damn blog post without knowing about the song I've been rambling about, give it a listen. It's pretty good:

And with that, I'm tired. Good night. ~grimaider.

[fenharel-apologist94]

WIP Whenever

I was tagged by @idolsgf for WIP Wednesday and while I did miss Wednesday, I have a degree in philosophy and I'm not afraid to use it to say time isn't real :3 Anyway, tysm for the tag! I'll add an actual writing piece at the end, but some of what I've been up to involved stuff that doesn't produce a "work", per se, but it's all part of the process!

I think most of everyone who I would tag has been tagged by someone else, so I'll leave this as an open tag to anyone who wants to do it for today :)

What's Icy been doing???

Organizing

With suspicion of Google Docs growing, I figured it was time for me to consider an alternative. I'd been thinking of it anyway and so this was a lil nudge for me to make the switch to Scrivener! After the initial mass export, I've been spending some time getting oriented to Scrivener and organizing all my documents and notes. I am absolutely enamored with Scrivener so far!!

Planning

While writing NADAF, I learned a lot - and as a result, one of the things I want to get better at is plotting/planning my fics. NADAF helped me really fall in love with writing as a hobby, not just in the actual putting-words-together writing but in the thought process behind it as well. What will these characters struggle with? How will their histories and personalities affect the story? What do I want to tell my readers, and how? So I've been having some fun thinking through those things for Tea Leaves and Sweet Dreams, as well as NADAF's future sequel, Yet Another Dragon Age Fanfic.

Writing

The last part of NADAF is underway!! I'm trying to get what I can written but its slow-going. I also may have gotten derailed by Tea Leaves and Sweet Dream again cause ya girl's got shit to process and this is how we do it. What can I say, I needed a bit a fluff (and a bit of angst) in my life. So below the cut is a sneak peak of Chapter 6: Honey Chamomile (pt. 2)!

TLSD fic summary:

There are four things Kieran knows about Solas: (1) He’s Professor Flemeth’s infamously irritable and reclusive TA, and tears his essays to shreds (2) He’s Kieran’s new labmate in one of the most difficult academic programs in Ferelden, under the supervision of one of the most mysterious professors alive (3) Solas hates point (2) (4) Solas hates tea When Solas makes his distain for Kieran clear, Kieran decides to fight fire with tea. Will Solas survive this tea war? Will Kieran find the one tea Solas can tolerate? Is there more brewing beneath the surface that neither of them want to confront? (The answer is yes.)

He’s probably going to stay in the room, Kieran repeated firmly to himself. He glared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. You need to get a grip.

Unfortunately, the rim of the sink seemed to be the only thing he could get a grip on. His heart hadn’t slowed from the moment he left Solas sitting on his bed, and Kieran couldn’t shake the sense that this was going to be a long night.

He caught sight of the bedraggled state of his ponytail and grimaced self-consciously. Creators, he was a mess. He was halfway through fixing it when he caught himself. Who was he trying to impress? Solas?

As if, he snorted to himself, dropping his hands. He was in his pajamas, for crying out loud. There was very little appeal to be found in his gray t-shirt and navy, ‘Denerim U’-emblazoned pajama bottoms. That is, if he were trying to impress anyone. Which he wasn’t.

He quickly redid his ponytail into something a little neater before he could think too hard about it. It couldn’t hurt.

Once Kieran felt reasonably adequate in his appearance, he took one last, steadying breath before venturing towards the kitchen. As he drew closer, the sound of laughter greeted him alongside the tempting scent of warm pizza. Was that... Solas laughing? Kieran squinted. There was no way such a carefree sound was coming from someone so chronically solemn. Skeptical, he rounded the corner into the kitchen.

[cosmicanamnesis]

OOhhh I would love to hear about your hate for the Scarlet Letter!! I read Wide Sargasso Sea from the list in the post and it was okay. Written like a classic so not always the easiest to understand. And I had to read it for a class, which usually make me dislike the books more. Crazy as I am getting a degree in English and literature classes are my favorite.

see that was the only one on the list i'd never actually heard of so i might have to look into it. but yeah i was in the "I'm Here For English/Art/Choir And Nothing Else" camp in school. most of the classics we had to read i either threw my whole ass into (see: The Grapes of Wrath) or i'd give it a couple chapters and then sparknotes it from there (sorry Great Gatsby. baz luhrmann made a very entertaining movie out of u tho)

anyway this song is called I Will Raise Nathaniel Hawthorne From The Grave Just To Kill Him Again (under a read more bc this literally does not matter nd if u liked The Scarlet Letter u can just scroll right on by)

fair warning: this is not a scholarly essay, this is a shitty opinion piece that i'm writing while drinking cheap shit that might maybe qualify as whiskey. that's what you're getting here.

anyway.

my beef with TSL has... frankly very little to do with the actual content of the story, other than the story is just dead fucking boring.

puritans as a subject are boring, esp if you grew up as a person being persecuted by The Church(tm) in modern america (i say, making my first unfounded broad sweeping generalization of the night). like, yeah, No Shit they were religious extremists, have you seen the legacy they left? in that way i can understand how the contemporary or modern reader is supposed to feel sympathetic towards hester. the story is presented like "look at these crazies, look how they treat their women and their community," as if we're not doing the same shit in a different font to this day. pick a point in american history, you'll find hester and pearl there because as a society by and large we have barely progressed.

not to mention the focus of the story is on hester's relationships with dimmesdale and chillingworth more than, yknow, her own development as a fully realized person (rather than a representaion of Theoretical Complexity; a person can be both Sinful and Virtuous). because she isn't one. neither is pearl. pearl, willful and impish, is the personification of hester's sin. pearl is a prop.

does that all make the story timeless? yes, in the worst possible way.

hawthorne explores what it means to be ostracized in the most, like, affluent white boy way. like a frat bro doing shrooms and discovering empathy, hawthorne wrote the scarlet letter to show the concept of Sin And Consequences in a way that other affluent white guys might actually pick up on and say hey yeah that is a little fucked and make them realize other people are, in fact, people. if you are not in that specific demographic (which i can only hope was a purposeful target audience to teach them that message and not hawthorne himself realizing this for the first time) the philosophy is pretty fuckin weak. or. not so much Weak as it is Shallow, but ultimately it's both.

all to say, i was pretty clearly not the target audience here, and i think i have a pretty valid reason to not give a fuck abt TSL. that is not the reason why i so passionately hate this book.

the town i'm from has a pretty significant mormon population. i don't know if you know anything about mormons, but basically, LDS tradition has rules clearly outlining under what circumstances a person is meant to be shunned by the church. one of those conditions is apostasy, when a member officially leaves or is forcibly removed from the church and is declared an apostate by the temple. why do i know this? my best friend for a long time went through this process when they were 16 and living with me because their family kicked them out for being queer. not too long after this, TSL was assigned reading, and the class i was in was like 80% Assorted Christian denominations, the major one being... ding ding ding the fucking mormons.

so. put yourself in my spot. you are having Teacher-Lead Discussions about the topics and morals in TSL and on one side you have queer kids, atheists, Intelligent Troublemakers, etc, and on the other side you have a Protestant Army led by a Mormon Vanguard. nothing will make you hate a book like a dozen kids with absolutely no self awareness.

that segment pretty much boiled down to

"wow can you believe how CrAzY the Church(tm) used to be? :P"

"uh... yeah... you haven't changed."

"WHAT? pshhh OUR denomination is Nothing like /that/, women can wear pants outside of church activities now!"

"ok how do you feel about adultery when one's husband is presumed dead?"

"well. uh."

so to conclude: the Scarlet Letter is a very shallow criticism of early american puritan doctrine and the way that it's treated as a deeply profound classic is more of a reflection on the modern White Patriarchy than it is on the Puritans. and dont get me wrong, i think it's a pretty good subject for a high school lit class, if for no other reason than it teaches kids to recognize how morals and ideals are passed down even over hundreds of years. its a perfect example of that.

book fuckin sucks tho

[plant-flwrs]

hi idk if you write for hermione (if not you could do luna?) but could you do one where the reader has a crush on hermione and is talking to harry about it and hermione overhears? then she askes the reader to go to hogsmeade with her?

library confessions // hermione granger

masterlist!

a/n: drarry. lesbian pinning. blushing. longing glances. yes this is gay. i love u anon.

summary: Hermione overhears you confessing your feelings about her.

(1.5k)

-----------

Harry Potter was the chosen one, the boy who lived, the star of the wizarding world, but the boy was painfully daft in most situations.

Especially in matters of romance.

“Harry,” you said slowly, looking into the boys eyes hoping he would see your desperation and urgency, “I need you to listen to what I’m saying.”

Harry huffed in annoyance, rolling his eyes at his friend, “I am listening, Y/n!”

“Obviously you are not,” you said slowly, leaning back in your chair but still looking at the boy, “because if you were, you would understand what I’m trying to tell you right now.”

You had found the situation entertaining some 20 minutes ago, but as time went on and Harry still didn’t understand the simple thing you were telling him, your entertainment ceased.

“You’re speaking in riddles! How am I supposed to know if Hermione listens to ‘lesbian’-” he quoted you there, “-music! I wish you’d just talk to her about this, I mean, its just music!.”

You groaned and felt an embarrassed blush come over your cheeks at the mere mention of Hermione. 

“Harry! Keep your voice down,” you scolded him, looking frantically around the common room that Hermione could be in at any second.

The two of you sat in annoyed silence, making sure no one heard you, before continuing. 

“I was an awesome wing-woman for you with Draco! You owe me!”

“Wing-woman, what are you-” Harry’s sentence ended as soon as the realization hit him. His eyes lit up from behind his glasses. His mouth opened and closed like a fish.

Harry, after 20 minutes of hinting at it, just realized you were confessing a crush on your best friend, Hermione Granger.

He sat back in his seat, unable to form a coherent sentence as his mind attempted to absorb the information. You rolled your eyes with a certain kind of relief, waiting for Harry to speak again.

“You mean-” he finally started again after a few minutes, leaning forwards again.

“Yes,” you finished for him, not wanting him to say it out loud.

“Our Hermi-” 

“Yes,” you finished again, wanting Harry’s epiphany to end sooner so you could talk about the pressing topic.

“Why are you asking me about this?” he asked, an entertained smile on his lips.

“Like I said, you owe me.”.

You and Hermione were in the library studying for an upcoming Charms test. You two had an unspoken agreement for a long time that entailed you studying together, and you never once complained when she dragged you away to the library. You could be watching the Quidditch World Cup, but if Hermione had to study, you would be there in an instant. 

You sat across from her, trying very hard not to stare at her. Her curly and unruly hair was pulled off her face with a muggle pencil, a few pieces framing her face. When she wasn’t writing, she twirled a piece in her fingers, succeeding in mesmerizing you and completely distracting you from your work. 

You shifted in your seat, trying to make yourself focus on the Charms essay in front of you. You crossed your legs, accidentally grazing Hermione’s shin with your foot. You felt your face get warm at the small touch, and Hermione looked up at you from her paper.

“‘M sorry,” you mumbled, cringing at the slight tremble in your voice.

“It’s alright,” she whispered back, looking back down at her paper. 

You let out a deep breath, closing your eyes and not letting yourself look up at her. You bit your lip, tensing in your seat. These days, it was incredibly hard to get any real studying done when you were with Hermione. Everything she did made you fall even more in love with her. 

“Harry?” Hermione whispered in a slightly annoyed but curious tone, causing you to look around for the boy.

“Hey guys,” Harry said, smiling, as he slid into the seat next to you, “was wondering where you were, found ya.”

You fought the urge to wince at Harry’s awkward greeting, giving him a small smile as Hermione turned back to her paper.

“What are you guys up to?” Harry pressed, leaning closer to you to look at your paper.

“Charms,” Hermione said, still sounding annoyed, without looking up from her paper.

“Oi, Hermione,” Harry acted as if he just remembered something, “I’ve been meaning to ask you this; you remember that book you read a few weeks back, about werewolves? Would you let me borrow it?”

Hermione’s face lit up at Harry’s request. She dropped her quill and looked to him.

“You mean Wanderings with Werewolves by Gilderoy Lockheart?” She said excitedly, the corners of her mouth lifting in a faint smile.

You felt your heart beat faster when Hermione smiled, watching her eyes fill with joy. 

“Yeah,” Harry said reluctantly, forcing a similar excited smile.

“I got that here, in the library,” Hermione talked fast, looking around at the books around her, “I returned it already, should be back on the shelves for you.”

“Would you get it for me? I’m rubbish at finding books,” Harry pleaded, taking advantage of Hermione’s excitement. 

“Of course! I’ll be right back,” she got up from her chair and walked quickly to some shelves a few rows over.

“You don’t read, let alone read books by Lockheart. What’d you do that for?” you asked Harry, seeing through him.

“I wanted to talk to you about Hermione,” he said lazily, watching Hermione as she ducked between two tall shelves and began thumbing through the tons of books by Lockheart.

“Harry-” you scolded him, looking around frantically to make sure Hermione hadn’t heard. She was still looking at the books, her back to you and Harry

“What? She’s not listening. Anyway,” Harry began, smiling devilishly at you, “I talked to Draco-”

“You told Draco?” you had to stop yourself from screaming at him, only so Hermione wouldn’t hear and come over.

“Of course I told Draco, he’s the romantic one of the two of us! He had a great idea. If you’d stop interrupting me, I might tell you,” Harry said, waiting for you to calm down.

“Fine, right, I’m sorry,” you said, looking down at your fingers as you nervously fidgeted with them. 

Harry’s comforting hand rested on top of them, “What’s the matter?”

“I’m really bloody nervous, Harry,” you started, looking up at Harry to see his quirked eyebrow telling you to go on, “I mean, she’s my best friend. If she doesn’t like me back, and I tell her, we won’t be the same,” you paused, taking in a deep breath, “But, I don’t think I can stand to be friends with her anymore, I want more.” 

Harry nodded knowingly at you and rubbed your hand soothingly. You sighed, looking up and smiling gratefully at him. 

Behind you, Hermione put her ear against the bookshelf closest to you and Harry, the book about werewolves clutched in her hands. She blushed as she listened to your confession, biting her lip to hide a huge smile. She peeked through books, listening to Harry comfort you with old stories about him and Draco before they finally confessed to each other. Hermione’s heart swelled, a feeling of relief coursing through her body. She played with her fingers nervously as she waited for Harry to leave, a sense of boldness coming over her that she had never felt before.

After a while, Harry left you at the table. Hermione ducked when you looked around for her, hiding behind a thick stack of books. She waited for a moment before standing again, turning and walking from behind the shelf, only to run straight into you. The book about werewolves fell to the floor, but neither of you cared much about it anymore. You stared longingly into each others eyes, and Hermione spoke first.

“Would you go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?” she blurted out, eyes widening as the words spilled from her mouth. 

“Sure, are Ron and Harry coming too?” you asked, figuring she wanted to go to Hogsmeade the same way you and the group of your friends had been going for years. 

“No, just us,” she said, smiling nervously at you.

“Ron? Passing up a Hogsmeade trip?” you joked, swallowing hard as you realized you were still standing extremely close to Hermione.

“A date-” she blurted out again, this time louder, like she had been forcing herself to say it, “I want to go on a date with you to Hogsmeade.”

You felt your mouth open in shock, slightly upturning your lips in surprise. You nodded your head vigorously, causing Hermione to duck her head down in a bashful sort of way. 

“Perfect,” she said, walking past you back to the table you both shared. 

You followed her, watching as she packed her things into her bag. She couldn’t stop smiling, and neither could you. She was careless with her things, nearly crumpling her newly written Charms essay. Her cheeks were pink as she smiled shyly at you before walking out of the library. You watched her leave, waving back at her when she looked over her shoulder for one more glance at you. 

[locria-writes]

So between Tuk'oer, Vezian, and Valentin, who's the biggest asshole? I feel like these are top 3 amongst the trashmen but I don't know just who is the biggest asshole in the top 3 itself.

i got a wholeass essay on this topic

tl;dr --

valentin -- 7/10 asshole, but a pretty decent guy underneath it all. has his own moral code that he does mostly adhere to, is capable of recognizing his assholery, and is the only one on this list capable of genuine and unselfish love.

tuko'er -- 9/10 asshole, very little redeemable about him, except that he is capable of introspection and self-reflection. had the potential to actually be a great guy, but got too embittered by the world and can't let go of the past. capable of genuine love, but it'll never not be selfish.

vezian -- 10/10 asshole, he doesn't even have the cool tragic backstory the others have to back his shit up. he was never a good guy, not even when he was a protagonist, and not now as an antagonist-figure. i don't really know if he's capable of genuine love.

long essay

Valentin is objectively an asshole. He's a hypocrite when it comes to his treatment of MC, has no qualms about lying/cheating/murdering his way to power, and is just generally unnecessarily blunt, surly, and quarrelsome, but underneath all that, he doesn't just have the potential to be a great guy -- he's actually quite valiant, albeit with some moral liberties and questionable methods, but let's take what we can get, okay?

His whole arc revolves around his pursuit of revenge, at least that's how others see it. But to Valentin, it's a fight to amend his rightfully-perceived injustices. He isn't doing it wholly for himself, in fact, his primary motivation is to seek justice for his mother, and in a broader respect, for all the others who have the same story he does. He doesn't hurt those he perceives as weaker than himself, and he doesn't blame the faultless, most of the time. MC is is the only exception to this because through all the hurt and anger that's been pent-up, Valentin's able to justify to himself why she's an acceptable target, and bend his principles just this once.

Unlike the other two, Valentin's perfectly capable of genuine and unselfish love, and already demonstrates it before MC. If MC were anyone else, he'd absolutely treat her very well, and he wouldn't have any qualms about acknowledging any feelings toward her. MC's only flaw is that she's Burkhard's daughter, and at the very least, Valentin can acknowledge his hypocrisy and deep down, he knows it's unfair to hate and hurt her for reasons far beyond any control.

On a meta-level, is Valentin's character an asshole? Yes, but only in this specific scenario. If his father had been even just 10% less of an asshole, or if he had a strong and non-murderous paternal role model, he wouldn't be a victim of Asshole Syndrome. Would he still be a surly jerk? Absolutely, but he'd be pretty harmless to MC overall, so he's a 7/10 asshole in AAB, but a 5/10 asshole as a character concept, if that makes sense.

Tuko'er, oh this piece of shit, Tuko'er. Undoubtedly an asshole's asshole, he's petty, ruthless, vicious, and completely unhinged. He takes delight in hurting the one he loves, and even more out of just being toxic toward her, and to be totally honest, he just wants to drag her down to his level so he won't be so lonely down there hell. He's an irredeemable abuser who is perpetuating the cycle, but let's take a step back for a second to look at how we got here.

He grew up in a household where power was the only thing that mattered. His father scorned him and set out to purposefully to make him miserable because of his mother is, and his mother was emotionally-unavailable and resented him for being his father's son. His older siblings either ignored and tormented him, and the same went for the servants. Despite all this, he was still very much a noble and magnanimous wide-eyed idealist, though he was internalizing all of this shitty behaviour deep down. Tuko'er craved affection and validation, received neither from his household, and the only person he ever really connected with and felt 'seen' by was Utanzhu. Funny enough, his frustrations over how powerless and useless he was in helping her all culminated to him falling victim to Asshole Syndrome, and becoming everything he didn't want to be. Lo and behold, it worked in his favour, and validated his behaviour.

At one point, before he became an asshole, Tuko'er loved genuinely and unselfishly. He craved affection, but never thought he was entitled to it, but now, after embracing shitty behaviour so long, it's become completely twisted. He treats his consorts and Samazy indifferently -- polite, distant, and doing no more and no less than what's expected, while with Utanzhu, it's an all-consuming, irrational, and distorted love.

Like Valentin, Tuko'er is an asshole, but only under specific scenarios. If he had others he could trust, or if he had been sent away to a different court, he wouldn't have become a poster child for Asshole Syndrome. In fact, he would've probably completely embraced his noble ideals, and become more like Yumaju, to be honest. Or at the very least, closer to what Valentin is, misguided and hurt, and trying to retake control of his life by fighting against those who hurt him. In KoK, he's absolutely a 9/10 asshole with few -- if any -- redeeming qualities left, while he goes from about a 3-7/10 asshole as a character concept.

Now Vezian, my sweet and beloved Asshole Supreme. The OG Trashman, the Prototype Locria-Trashman, the guy who was just as deplorable when he was written to be a protagonist as he is now as an antagonist, an arrogant and pompous character who became a narcissistic psychopath the more I wrote him etc, etc, etc. I can't tell if he's more of a megalomaniac or a psychopath or a narcissist, but I can tell that he's a real piece of work, and desperately needs some therapy (to be honest, they all do though).

Unlike Valentin and Tuko'er, he actually had a very good childhood. Sure, there were some snide remarks about his status and his mother, but overall, his mother loved him dearly, his father was at the very least, not overtly-abusive, his siblings, the Empress, and the other consorts were all either civil, or just distant to him, and the servants charged with caring for him all treated him well. Sure, he was always an arrogant little brat, but in a way, it was justified since he was very intelligent and talented, it's just too bad he's completely embraced the Asshole Syndrome. Nobody who really matters puts him down, but Vezian's internalized those whispers he used to hear about himself as a child, and has now convinced himself that everyone sees him that way, and that Launcelin, is out to get him.

Can he love genuinely and unselfishly? At the moment, it's a tentative yes, since he does love his mother and Doradeira, but other than them, I don't know if he's capable of forming that kind of bond with anyone else, even if he does fall in love with MC. In 10+ years of writing him, I've always flip-flopped on this aspect because I'd like to believe in the best for Vezian, and that he can eventually learn to be less selfish, more open-minded, but the older I get, the less it seems likely because he doesn't think he needs help/change, and how can one grow and mature if they refuse to believe they need to in the first place?

So Vezian's absolutely an asshole in ABEA, 10/10 the others wish they could be as irredeemable as him, but on a meta level, I don't really know? I feel like he could become a regular harmless douchecanoe if he ever got the help he needed, but do I think he'd ever accept help, or even acknowledge that he needs it? He's still such a difficult character to grasp, even though I've been writing him the longest in this list.

[unsaid-stardust]

Blessings

After a long weekend, which included Carlos eating too much sugar and running around with a ghost bassist, and catching his daughter with her ghost boyfriend, Ray Molina rubbed his tired eyes as he made his way to his desk. He loves his kids more than anything in the world, but he definitely wasn't prepared for them to be close friends with 3, not 1, but 3 ghost rockstars. It was a lot of work to say the least plus he had no clue where the boundaries laid with this sort of thing. Should he be ok with it? Should he let his kids be so attached to entities that don’t exist in reality? 

He wasn’t sure. But, if there was one thing Ray was sure about, it was that this is the happiest he had seen his kids since his wife passed away. Especially Julie. And that was probably all the doings of one particular ghost: Luke Patterson. 

He had known that Luke and Julie shared chemistry; He saw it on stage almost every weekend. But, he didn’t know that they had acted on that said chemistry. He thought it was just some harmless flirting and songwriting. But, boy, was he wrong about that. Because just the other night, he caught his daughter and the ghost guitarist on top of the grand piano in the studio engaging in some not-so-rated-PG-13 activities. 

Ray had been prepared to deal with that one day. After all, his daughter is 16; that in itself calls for hormones and drama. But, what he wasn’t expecting, was it to happen with someone who isn’t human. 

Ray sighed as he sat down at his desk with his cup of coffee. Besides the challenges that occurred this weekend, he has a lot to catch up on work-wise this morning. So much so, that he didn’t even notice the piece of paper that laid out in front of him. 

Ray raised his eyebrow as he picked it up in his hands. It wasn't his handwriting that’s for sure, he could actually read his handwriting, and he definitely didn’t remember putting it there. 

Dear mr. molina, 

First of all, thank you for being chill about this. I know you werent exactly expecting youre daughter to fall in love with a ghost; neither was i to be honest with you. 

Oh, so that’s what this is. A letter from Julie’s ghost boyfriend. Add that to the list of things Ray Molina wasn't prepared to handle. As much as he was caught off guard, Ray found himself chuckling at the last sentence (that and the incorrect use of the word “you’re”). At least they were on the same page on one thing.

And just a warning before i begin: i havent written an essay in 25 years so you know what youre in for. But i juet want to say, i love youre daughter. She-she’s my brightest burning star-literally. She’s like my sun, without her i wouldnt be here. I wouldnt be playing music or exist the way i do. And she makes me feel alive agaon. I know this might be a bit too personal but i felt a heartbeat when i kissed her the other day. That hadnt happened before. Mr molina, i just want ro love your daughter the way she loves me, but even more. I just want to show her how much power and talent she has and how beautiful she is. She doesnt believe me  most of the time but im going to make damn sure that she does one day. I’ll keep that promise to yiu. So yeah, i love your daughter. And i hope you’ll let me love her back. 

From,

Luke Patterson.

p.s sorry for the incorrect grammar that was never my strong suit

Ray chuckled again, except this time, there were tears that went along with it. He knew his daughter had this incredible amount of love in her heart for everyone around her, but he would never have guessed that she had the capacity to pass it on to a ghost and for a ghost to reciprocate it. 

Noticing the tears that had dropped on the letter in front of him, Ray wiped them away from his cheek with the palm of his hand. Before today, before this letter, Ray Molina had a lot of uncertainties about this relationship. What kind of person (ghost?) Luke was, what his intentions were, and how he could allow this behavior when he didn’t exist in the real world. 

That wasn’t the case anymore. If this letter wasn’t enough to show that, then the tears that were now blurring the messy black ink, would say it all. Ray stood up from his desk then, tears still brimming at his eyes. Luke had asked for his blessing, now he's on a mission to grant it wholeheartedly. 

But, what Ray Molina didn’t know as he walked out of his office, was that the ghost he was looking for had been behind in front of his desk the whole time, crying just as much as he was.

tagging: @willexx @blush-and-books @lydias--stiles @littledancersun

[starkidpotty]

Should’ve Known Better [GW]

After the Second Wizarding War, the wizarding world faces a great recession that puts you and George in financially and morally compromising situations.

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: swearing and terrible use of tenses (im sorry for the grammar)

A/N: written for angst prompt #14 for @kalimagik​‘s 1.3k writing challenge!! congrats on 1.3k again!! <3 

You had always been good–exceptional, actually–at writing since your teenage years. Essays you’ve written for work assigned by Professor Flitwick managed you top marks. Hell, even Snape commended your writing from time to time (if he wasn’t too busy taking away points from Gryffindor.) Throughout your years at Hogwarts, you entered multiple wizarding writing competitions and won them all. It made sense to you to seek out a job at the Daily Prophet after graduating from Hogwarts to put those writing skills  to good use. 

Your first year at the Daily Prophet was difficult, to say the least. You were paid almost next to nothing and writing on an empty stomach while worrying if you had enough galleons to pay rent was terrible for your creative process. On top of that, it seems as though whatever piece you made never satisfied your boss, Angel Hornbeam, editor of the Tragedies and Mishaps section of the paper. Each piece you wrote was either sent back with red ink splattered across the parchment with scathing comments on how sophomoric & crass your writing was or outright discarded. You didn’t know what Angel hated more: you or your writing. 

There you were walking down Diagon Alley after a grueling day at work. You made two pieces today–only two pieces–that were immediately thrown out to the rejection pile at the corner of Angel’s office. Roan Staghart, a colleague of yours, accidentally spilled pumpkin juice all over you which Angel pointed out and subsequently prompted her to give you a long-winded lecture on how unbecoming it was to sport such an unprofessional appearance in a place of work. You made your way down Diagon Alley with your path only being illuminated by the lights in the shops you passed.  You were downtrodden and hungry and lonely and unmotivated and uninspired. You thought about the eviction notice plastered to your flat’s door that you received earlier that day before heading off to work. You thought about the empty pantry in said flat, which then reminded you of your empty wallet. Lost in thought and not looking directly straight ahead, you ram your head straight into the open door of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Your arse lands on the cobblestoned path and you’re clutching your bleeding nose with your right hand, while your left provides support. 

“Merlin, I’m sorry!” says one of the Weasley twins as he hurriedly walks toward you. 

“Georgie, go get her some ice.” says the twin to the other behind him, still clutching the door open. 

“Fred, right? Sorry, I’m shite at telling you and your brother apart.” You say while letting out a humourless chuckle, wincing in pain as you clutch your nose. Fred crouches down to your level.

“S’alright, just know I’m the better looking one.” He pauses, “You’re [Y/N], you were in [Hogwarts House], correct? I remember you selling a pre-written essay  to Lee in our fourth year. T’was the only he got an O for, if I recall.” says Fred with a joking grin. George runs back with ice wrapped in a handkerchief which he passes to Fred, which Fred passes to you. 

“Had to make money to buy butterbeer at Hogsmeade somehow.” You answer him as you bring the wrapped ice to your nose. Both the brothers smile at you and you smile back. 

“Fred and I were actually headed off to dinner at our flat, join us. I suppose it’s the least we could do after the damage we’ve inflicted onto your poor nose.” George proposes. 

“I couldn’t impose–” 

“Nonsense!” They say in unison. Fred offers you a hand, which you graciously take. He pulls you up and you walk with them to their flat.  

You were now at the Weasley twins’ shared flat at the edge of Diagon Alley. It was the best meal you’ve had in weeks, not to mention the twins’ presence was a morale booster in itself. Dinner lasted an hour, but the conversations after lasted well into the night. You wondered why you weren’t friends with the twins during their school years. Perhaps if you detached your hand from your favorite quill and parchment, you would have been. Regardless, that night sparked a friendship. 

You were stopping by the shop on your way home from work on the daily and the twins enjoyed your presence so much so they offered you a small, part-time job as a stock keeper as a means to keep yourself afloat while your work your way up the Daily Prophet ladder. They’d come to visit you in their spare time at your dinky flat  on the border of Knockturn and Diagon alley. As hard as your first year at the Daily was, your newfound friendship with Fred and George made it all the worthwhile. While you and Fred remained friends, you and George had begun to engage in a shameless “flirtationship” as you coined–always dancing on the border of friends and being more than friends. Stealing kisses in the shop, holding hands underneath dinner tables, George reasoning out to Fred that you needed help at your flat only for him to spend the night, writing little notes for George before he left in the morning. Everyone around you knew you and George were it, as much as you and he tried to suppress it. One day, George decided to make it real and official.  

Your personal life had improved immensely after your horrendous first year as a journalist. You were dating George Weasley, your pantry was always full now, and you didn’t have to worry about getting evicted anymore. Your work life wasn’t as terrible as before as Angel Hornbeam turned over a new leaf and was much more forgiving at work. You were finally given a small promotion–not a choice Angel made, but by a higher-up as you stayed loyal to the good of the wizarding world–which offered you enough stability to leave the shop. 

The wizarding world at this point in time, however, was not improving. Death eaters infiltrated the ministry and your beloved Hogwarts. They started censoring pieces at the Daily Prophet, much to your chagrin. You couldn’t write or report about tragedies happening as the Death Eaters wanted the media to depict dark wizards as righteous and justify their actions. You moved over to making crossword puzzles for the paper as opposed to spewing lies about Lord Voldemort and his mission to take over the wizarding world. Fred and George had to close down shop for the time being as the Weasleys went into hiding.

Then the Battle of Hogwarts happened. You fought alongside Fred and George, casting spells and charms. Blasting death eaters left and right. You did everything you could to fight against the Death Eaters. But you couldn’t save Fred, nor could George. George was never the same after Fred’s death and neither were you. You were both deeply resigned to grieving and still continue to do so everyday. The sun still rose and set like it always did, but Fred was gone and the world just kept spinning. It left you and George no time to breathe. 

The wizarding world slowly built itself back up after the war, with Kingsley Shacklebolt acting as the Minister for Magic. He’d done a bloody good job of it. He purged out the dark wizards from the ministry and from the Daily Prophet, effectively returning most things back to normal. You were back to writing in the Tragedies and Mishap department, but the wizarding world hit a great recession after the war. People were losing jobs left and right; you knew for a fact that your neck was next on the chopping board if you didn’t come up with a good piece soon. Though George was slowly reopening the shop, with the help of his family, it wasn’t enough to keep you and he afloat. Losing this job would bring your right back to where you were your first year out of Hogwarts and you were determined to avoid that. 

--

It was 3 o’clock in the afternoon, two hours to the end of the work week. You haven’t written anything substantial in a while and your desk was evidence. The brown wood was stained with droplets of stray ink from your quill, but they weren’t as obvious because of the crumpled pieces of ripped parchment scattered across the desk. Your hand was ink-stained and your hair was in disarray. To say the least, you looked a mess. 

“[Y/N], I need you in my office,” Angel called out to you, peering out of her office door. 

You stood up, straightening out your top, trying to look as presentable as possible. Walking over to her office catches the attention of your many officemates. Your stomach begins to feel like a vacuum, sucking in all the air around you, ineffectively trying to get you to breathe. Were your fears getting realized? Was this it for your writing career? So many thoughts raced in your head as you walked–slogged, rather–the distance from your desk to Angel’s office. You reach the archway of her door and she instructs you to close it. You gulp heavily. 

“Yes, Angel? Anything I could do for you?” You anxiously choke out. You feel like your guts are about to unceremoniously find its way out your mouth and onto her office floor. 

Her office was decorated all in black, from her quills to her velvet wallpaper. Angel stood out in the gloomy decor of her office, sporting an all-white outfit. She says it’s a metaphor–tragedies are both light and dark, simultaneously and she wants to embody that. A little pretentious, but she’s right nonetheless. 

“Don’t look at me like that, I’m not going to fire you, darling.” Darling, a term of endearment, but never when it came from Angel’s lips. “I’m close, but I won’t. I have a proposition” 

You look at her intently, your eyes almost bulging. 

“I want an editorial piece on grief and love. I want romance wrapped in despair, topped with angst.” Angel mused. 

“I beg your pardon?” You muster out.

“Write about lost love, the war did just happen–it’ll be fresh, uncut,” Angel pauses for dramatic effect, “Absolutely raw.” She clenches her fist in such a theatrical manner, it's almost comical. 

You stay silent, unsure of what to say or do. Your face must’ve looked bewildered, as she slouches and rolls her eyes. 

“Godric, I want you to interview someone who lost the love of their life because of the war, so to speak. It’ll do wonders for readership. Have you read that muggle story–Romeo and Juliet? Love and tragedy create such a spicy little mix.” She says in response to your look. 

“Wouldn’t that be exploitative, no? Everyone’s still grieving.” You question Angel. 

“That’s journalism.” Angel’s brows are furrowed and you can tell she’s trying to control her temper. “I better have a damn well-written editorial on my desk come Monday morning. May I remind you, you are the last of your colleagues to have either been promoted up or let go. Do you want to be the latter?” 

You gulp, she hasn’t threatened you since your first year at the office. You shakily let out a soft no. She returns with a softly-said good and points you to the direction of her door. 

--

You were on your way home to you and George’s shared flat in Diagon Alley. Your mind was raking itself for who you could possibly call to satisfy Angel’s wants. The gears were grinding hard until you had the aha moment–Angelina. Her and Fred’s relationship was complicated to say the least. They weren’t friends but they weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend, but they didn’t want to see other people. You could no longer recall what they were and with Fred gone, the answer didn’t seem to matter anymore. The “almost” aspect of the relationship would provide the angst–unfinished business, if you will. Fred’s death and the love that could’ve been. You lit up at the ideas forming in your head, but you feel your conscience gnawing at you. However, you and George had to keep the lights on somehow. 

George had beaten you home that night and was eating a packed dinner from Molly on your couch. You hang your bag on the rack next to the door, taking your coat off as well. You walk over to George, plotting your body next to him. Resting your head against his shoulder you say, “How was your day?” 

You each share quips about your days at work, leaving out Angel’s request entirely. A silence ensues and you find this to be the most opportune moment to ask him. 

“D’you mind having Angelina over tomorrow? A light catch-up? Haven’t seen her since, well, y’know when.” You ask George. His face stiffens. 

“Alright, would be good to see an old friend, yeah?” He manages to say. He gets up to write an owl to Angelina. He sends the owl off and within the hour, Angelina’s response comes back. She agrees. 

-- 

It’s the day of your interview-not-interview with Angelina. You are in the bathroom getting ready while George waits by the door for Angelina. Your self-writing quill for note taking and its accompanying notebook are hidden in a cupboard at the corner of the kitchen that could not be seen from the dining room, ready to start writing at your will. 

“Love, Angelina’s here!” George says through the bathroom door. You quickly get out, rounding the corner to get to the living room and see Angelina sat on your sofa. You bring her in for a hug which she happily returns, you feel the guilt creep up again. You try and dismiss the feeling as hard as you can but it lingers like an unwanted guest. Trying to ease your nerves, you invite her to the dining room, where food you cooked in the morning lay waiting. 

Angeline told stories about her life as a bigtime Quidditch match commentator and you entertained her with stories from the Sports department. You were both marveling at how much time has changed things since your graduation from Hogwarts to the war to life now. Now’s a good a time as any, your mind reasons out. You muster what little courage you had and shift the topic over to Fred. 

“So, Angelina, how have you been holding up, since the battle?” You ask her. George looks at you strangely, as he notes the shift and tone in your voice. 

“Uh, well I’m here. Coping. Grieving.” She responds.

“We’re here for you, tell us more.” You say, trying to probe more information out of her. A slimy feeling makes itself known in the insides of your stomach and you try your hardest to ignore it. 

Angelina stays silent and then starts, “It’s been rough, Fred–” The winning ticket. 

“What about Fred? It was a bit complicated before he died.” Cutting her off, you were siphoning as much information as you can. 

“Yes, it was. You know that.” Angelina deflected, but she continued. “I wish there was more time. More time with him.” Her voice grew heavy, but you tried to turn up the pressure.

“Tell me, what would you have done with that time? Were there things you would’ve said? Done?” 

Angelina takes an ugly pause. 

“Well?” You don’t mean to say this in such a crass and impatient manner, but you do.  

At this point, George stands up. He gets uncomfortable and goes to the cupboard to fetch himself a glass of water. As he inches to the cupboard, he hears scratching noises like a quill writing on parchment. He knows exactly what you’re doing now. Opening the cupboard he sees your quill and notebook scribbling away. On the pad is written, “‘A love lost, an almost,’ says Angelina as she begins to tell me about what could’ve been had Fred avoided his untimely death…” George stopped reading. It clicks in George’s head now. It explains the sudden decision to send an owl over to her last night. George’s jaw tenses up. 

He grabs a glass, closing the cupboard, while leaving the quill and notebook in there. He heads to the front of the refrigerator where you’d be unable to see him. It gives him time to rethink his next move while calming down. He knew journalism would be gross, but he didn’t think you’d prey on your friends–especially since you knew how everyone was still mourning the loss of his twin brother. 

Angelina begins to cry from the other room, but you continue to hound her with questions. “What would you be doing now if Fred were still around? Do you still dream of a life with him? What else have you been doing to fill the space? Do you wish there was more you could’ve done?” The words were practically marathoning out your mouth. The guilt in you subsides and all you feel now is a desire to get the truth out of Angelina. It’s as though you were watching this unfold from the corner of the room; it wasn’t you shoving questions down Angelina’s throat, but an entirely different entity. 

“Merlin, will you stop!” Angelina boomed. “I’m leaving. I missed you and George, I really did. But, how dare you. We’re all grieving and if this is your sick at attempt at therapy, I’ve damn near had it.” 

You’re silent and you feel yourself float back to your body, sat in front of a tearful and red-faced Angelina. She angrily gets up, dropping her fork onto the table. She makes a beeline for the coat rack, grabbing her things, and leaves–making sure to slam the door. 

“What the fuck was that, [Y/N]?” George shot at you, as he emerged from the kitchen. He was holding his glass of water with his fingers by the brim, both his arms by his side. The expression plastered on his face was a mixture between disappointed, frustration, and anger. You stay silent. 

“Answer me, what was that?” George repeats again. You still stay silent, you don’t know how to answer him. “Were you trying to make a piece out of Angelina?” 

You look down at your lap repentantly. “Angel said she’d fire me if I didn’t.”

George makes his way over to you, placing his glass on the dining room table. He doesn’t take a seat, instead he looks down at you in anger. 

“She’s our friend. She’s grieving, mourning–like you and me fucking both.” George was fuming, “You were being a prick and I didn’t like it, obviously neither did Angelina. I could say more, but out of respect, I won’t.” 

“George, we have to eat one way or another. I didn’t want to lose any more income than we already had!” You tried very hard to justify your reasons as to why. 

“At expense of a good friend of ours? Merlin, [Y/N].” George rebutted. “I can’t even look at you right now. I know you love writing, I do. I love your writing, in fact. But, this is low. All for what? A few fucking galleons? Merlin.” 

George turns his heel and stomps to the door, grabbing his coat and slamming the door shut in one swift motion. He presumably chases after Angelina to apologize on your behalf. You hang your head, trying to recollect yourself, and think about what to say to Angelina and George. 

You decide right then and there that you were going to quit your job at the Daily Prophet–there was always a need for writers in the Wizarding World anyway and jobs of that sort were probably not as exploitative in nature. Deciding to write a Letter of Resignation later that night, you trudge your way to the door, grab your coat, and run after George. 

--

masterlist here

[batterycityghoul]

Love’s Strange (Billy Hargrove/Reader)

Title: Love’s Strange

Pairing: Billy Hargrove/f!Reader; background Steve/Nancy/Jonathan

Summary: Written for the ‘The Breakfast Club’ prompt for The 80s Challenge by @nellblazer​ . “You were starting to get your hopes up that it would only be the four of you, but then the library door opened once again and your hopes were quickly dashed by the sight of Billy Hargrove being escorted inside by Principal Himbry. Himbry had a hand on Billy's elbow, as if he thought Billy was about to make a run for it if he didn't personally usher him inside the room. “

Word Count: 9.4k

Warnings: Underage drinking

Author’s Note: Set after season two of Stranger Things. Title taken from Don't You (Forget About Me) by Simple Minds. Principal Himbry is very much so based on the principal from Scream. I couldn't resist.  Masterlist / Read on AO3

You thought the whole concept of Saturday detention was bullshit. You didn't understand what the point was of coming into school to waste half of your weekend. You would have preferred staying after school every day for a week than giving up your Saturday.  

It wasn't as if you had anything planned, though. You would sit in your room, listening to music, and ignoring that the rest of the world existed. You would probably catch up on homework or finish the assigned novel for your English class. You didn't lead the most exciting life, but you really didn't want to spend your free time stuck in detention.

You knew what people thought of you at Hawkins High. They thought you were quiet. They thought you were a nerd who only focused on your grades and had no fun whatsoever. You usually didn't care what anyone thought about you, though. You were there to get your diploma and then get the hell out of Hawkins.  

So what if you didn’t spend your weekends at parties or had a full social life? You didn’t know why you would bother to waste your attention on the other kids at Hawkins High anyways. They had never given you any consideration and you weren’t really jumping at the opportunity to try to change their minds about you.  

At the end of the day, they had already made up their minds about you. Did it bother you sometimes? Sure. Were you tempted to try to change their opinion of you? Not really.  

You sighed as you pulled open the front door to the school. You had been forced to walk to school, since your parents were out of town and you didn't have your own car. You didn't mind the walk, but since it was almost Thanksgiving, the air had a chill to it that took your breath away.  

Once you got inside, you started pulling off your gloves.  

"I see you've finally showed up," you heard from in front of you.  

You glanced up to see Principal Himbry standing there, an unimpressed look on his face.  

"I had to walk," you offered helplessly.  

"That's no excuse," he said. "All of you little delinquents are late." He sighed before he glanced down at his wristwatch, shaking his head when he noticed the time. "You'll be in the library. I suggest you get there now," he snapped before he brushed past you to step outside.  

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you made your way to the library. You weren't sure who you would be sharing detention with, but you hoped it wasn't any of the idiots you had come to dislike during your time at Hawkins High.  

When you got to the library, you noticed it was eerily silent. You considered the row of three tables taking up space in the middle of the room. Each table only had three seats, so there weren't a lot of seating choices. You were glad you were the first one in the room, since that meant you got to choose where you wanted to sit.  

You made a beeline for the table at the back. You chose the middle seat, hoping it would dissuade anyone from sitting at your table.

You sat in the silent library for long enough that you started to wonder if you should try to find something to read to pass the time. Just as you had convinced yourself to get up, the door to the library opened and three people walked inside.  

You quirked an eyebrow at the sight of Steve Harrington striding into the room followed closely by Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers. Nancy shot you a quick look before she moved to take the middle seat of the first table, Jonathan and Steve flanking her.  

You were more than a bit surprised to see Nancy and Jonathan. They were a grade below you, but even you knew they were generally regarded as good students. Seeing Steve wasn't as much of a shock. You had a few classes with Steve and while he seemed like a level-headed guy, he also had a habit of bickering with Tommy Hagan or Billy Hargrove and disrupting class.  

You really hoped neither of them showed up for detention, because you were sure it would lead to more bickering and fighting between the boys. You only wanted to do your time and get home to enjoy what was left of your weekend. You really didn’t want to get pulled into any drama.  

You were starting to get your hopes up that it would only be the four of you, but then the library door opened once again and your hopes were quickly dashed by the sight of Billy Hargrove being escorted inside by Principal Himbry. Himbry had a hand on Billy's elbow, as if he thought Billy was about to make a run for it if he didn't personally usher him inside the room.

Billy jerked his arm out of Himbry's grasp. "I told you I know where the library is," he insisted. "I didn't need your help."

"Your grades would suggest otherwise, Mr. Hargrove. Take a seat."

Billy rolled his eyes, but didn't bother to say anything as he moved forward. You noticed Steve's shoulders tense as Billy brushed past him, but you were quick to drop your gaze to the table in front of you when you noticed Billy's attention focus on you for a moment.  

You were aware of Billy dropping into the middle seat at the table in front of yours and felt relieved that he didn't choose to sit at your table. If there was anyone who didn't mind pushing boundaries just to get a rise out of people, it was Billy Hargrove.  

You didn't bother looking up again until Mr. Himbry spoke. "I know you five think you've been given a free pass to just sit around and do nothing all day, but that's not how Saturday detention in my school is run."

Billy snorted as he tipped his head back, rolling his eyes at the ceiling. "Please, enlighten us," he remarked.

Mr. Himbry shot Billy an exasperated glare. "I want you to write me an essay," Mr. Himbry started as he moved over towards the librarian's desk. He grabbed a small stack of loose-leaf notebook paper and a handful of pencils before he started distributing them among the five of you. You frowned down at the blank paper in front of you before you glanced up to see Himbry standing back in front of the door, his hand on the doorknob as if he was about to leave the room.  

You hastily raised your hand, hating that you were going to call attention to yourself.

"What?" Himbry asked when he noticed you.

"What are we supposed to write about?"

You heard Billy groan as a smirk appeared on Himbry's face.  

"I'm glad you asked. I want you to write me an essay about your character. Explain to me why what you did was wrong and how you're going to improve so it doesn't happen again."

Billy raised his hand. "But, sir, what if we're not sorry? What if we like our choices?" His voice had a mocking tone to it and by the annoyed expression on Himbry's face, you were sure he caught it.

"Mr. Hargrove, I hope out of anyone in this room, you will take this day to reflect on your bad decisions. You’ve certainly made a lot of them since you decided to grace us with your presence."

Billy leaned back in his chair as he kicked his feet up on the desk in front of him. "That'll be the day," he commented.

"I am sick of your attitude, Mr. Hargrove," Himbry snapped. "You just earned yourself another Saturday detention."

Billy chuckled as he moved to pull a stick of gum from the outer pocket of his jacket. Mr. Himbry crossed over to him and held his hand out.  

"And no chewing gum in the library. It's bad enough you kids stick it under the cafeteria tables. We don't need that in here either."

"Sure thing, Mr. Himbry," Billy replied as he handed over the stick of gum.  

He waited until Mr. Himbry's back was turned before he pulled out another piece, unwrapped it, and popped it into his mouth. When he realized he had your attention, he shot you a wink.

You rolled your eyes, not wanting to admit even to yourself that you found Billy Hargrove dangerously charming, even when he was being a bit of a dick.  

Mr. Himbry turned to survey the five of you. "I want those essays finished by the time you're allowed to leave here today," he said. "You will stay right here in this room. No going off into one of the private study rooms. If I think you've left your seat when I get back, I'll add another Saturday to your sentence. Do I make myself clear?"

"Aren't you going to stay here?" Steve asked.  

"I have better things to do with my time than watch you all day, Harrington. I'll be locking you all in so I can be sure you won't leave."

"But, sir, isn't that a fire hazard?" Billy’s tone suggested he didn’t really care, but he just wanted to piss off Mr. Himbry by bringing it up.

"Shut it, Hargrove. You’re lucky I gave you detention and not suspension for smoking on school grounds,” Mr. Himbry responded, a displeased look on his face.

Billy held up his hands in surrender before he reached into the inner pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a pair of sunglasses. He rocked back in his seat, not caring that his head was dangerously close to the edge of your table.  

Mr. Himbry sighed and shook his head. "At least you're graduating this year," he grumbled before he turned and left the library.  

You had no intention of actually writing the essay. There was no way Himbry could grade you on it, so there was no point in actually wasting your time on it. Instead, you grabbed the pencil he had left for you on the desk and started doodling in the margins of the paper. You were mindlessly drawing stars and scribbling snatches of lyrics from some of your favorite songs when you were torn out of your thoughts by Billy's voice.

"I should have known you would live for that extra homework bullshit," he said. When you glanced up, it was to see Billy sitting back up in his chair, his feet planted on the floor once again as he considered you over the top rim of his sunglasses. "Did you get turned on by the thought of writing another boring-as-shit essay, Miss Honor Roll?"

You shot him a glare before you bent back over your paper. You made sure to print the letters large enough on the page to be able to read them at a distance. You held the paper up so Billy could read your message to him.

His lips stretched in a smirk as he read the words. "Fuck off, huh? Such language from such a pretty girl."

"Just leave her alone, Billy," Nancy cut in, shooting a glare at Billy over her shoulder.  

Billy turned back around in his seat, facing the table in front of him. "I'm surprised to see you here, princess," Billy said as he leaned forward in his seat, his gaze set on Nancy and Steve in front of him.

Steve turned around, a scowl on his face. "Hey, don't call her that."

Billy smirked. "I was talking to you, Harrington."

"You're a real asshole. Do you know that?" Steve snapped, turning fully in his seat so he could consider Billy.  

"So I've been told," Billy drawled, seemingly unaffected by Steve's words.  

"Why the hell are you even here, Hargrove? I would have thought you were above showing up for a Saturday detention."

"Oh, but then I would have missed seeing your face, Harrington. I couldn't possibly go a day without it."

"Just do what Y/N said and fuck off, Billy," Steve spat.  

Billy chuckled before he pressed his hands to the surface of the table, pushing himself up to stand. "With pleasure," he hissed.  

You watched him move over towards the library doors. When he reached out to try to open them, they didn't budge.  

"That dick actually locked us in," you couldn't help saying. You really didn't think Mr. Himbry would go so far as to lock you all in the library. What if something happened? What if you needed to leave?

Jonathan glanced at you over his shoulder, a surprised look on his face.  

Steve snorted as he leaned back in his seat. "Of course he did," he muttered. "Because that's just what today needed."

Billy turned around, his focus immediately going to you. "There you go with that smart mouth again," he said as he leaned back against the locked library doors. "How did you even end up in detention in the first place? Aren't you the perfect little teacher's pet?"

You rolled your eyes and moved to grab the paper and pencil from the desk. You pushed yourself out of your chair and then made for one of the private study rooms dotting the perimeter of the room. You didn't care if Mr. Himbry had forbidden it or if you ended up being punished for it. You would do just about anything in that moment to get away from Billy Hargrove and his insufferable attitude.  

"Oh, we've got ourselves a rebel!" Billy called after you.  

You didn't bother to look back at him or the others as you pushed the door closed behind yourself. You let out a sigh of relief when you dropped into one of the chairs found at the table in the middle of the room. You were sure you would be even more bored all by yourself in the study room, but you didn't care. If it gave you just a few moments to yourself, then you would happily take it.  

You spent a couple of hours by yourself, absently drawing your own constellations on the paper and trying to find ways to entertain yourself.  

You were thankful that it was warm enough in the room that you could slip off your jacket. You weren’t sure if the others were talking or even bothering with each other, because you couldn’t hear a thing from the main room. Sitting all alone in the study room without music or anything else to occupy your time was mind-numbingly boring, but you couldn’t help but think it was better than potentially listening to Steve and Billy fight all day.

You were starting to get sleepy and seriously considering balling up your jacket to use as a pillow when the door to the study room abruptly opened. You were startled enough that you almost tipped out of your chair.  

"Get out of there," you heard Mr. Himbry snap behind you.  

You sighed before you made yourself get up. You grabbed your things before finally turning and looking at Mr. Himbry. He sighed and shook his head, disappointment clear in his expression as you brushed past him.  

"I'll see you here next Saturday," he told you.

Billy was sitting in the seat you had originally claimed, his sunglasses still on his face. When he saw you, he smirked at you. "Looks like I won't be lonely next Saturday after all."

You rolled your eyes, choosing to sit in the middle seat of the second table.  

Mr. Himbry sighed as he passed your table. "Now, if you didn't bring lunch, which I don't think any of you thought to do, then there are pre-packaged sandwiches and chips that can be found in the cafeteria." He moved to stand near the librarian's desk, his gaze fixed on the five of you as he considered you. "You," he said as he pointed at you. "And Harrington," he added after a few moments. "Go to the cafeteria and get lunch for everyone."

Steve glanced at you before he pushed himself to his feet. You were quick to follow, glad that you would be able to leave the library for just a few moments.  

"And don't take more than ten minutes," Himbry called out. "Or it's another Saturday for the both of you," he warned.  

You really didn't want to spend your weekends leading up to Christmas in detention, so you simply nodded your head and followed Steve out of the library.  

You didn't really know Steve Harrington all that well, even if you had been in classes together for years. However, everyone at Hawkins High knew who 'King Steve' was, even if he had recently fallen from the ridiculous heights of popularity he once seemed to enjoy.  

"So," Steve started, shooting you a glance as he swung his arms idly at his sides. "Y/N, right?"

You quirked an eyebrow at him, amused by the question. "Yeah. Steve, right?" You jokingly asked.  

Steve rolled his eyes before carding his fingers through his hair, pushing it off of his forehead.  

"I'm just trying to make small talk. I don't really know anything about you except that you're one of the smartest kids in our class. How the hell did you even end up in Saturday detention?"

You shrugged your shoulders. "I'm more than just a nerd, King Steve."

"Alright, alright. Point taken."

"How did you end up with Saturday detention?"

Steve bit his lip before he shot you a grin. "I told Tommy H. to go fuck himself. Himbry overheard."

"Huh," you breathed. "Knowing Tommy, I'm sure it was deserved."

"Yeah," Steve agreed with a laugh. "Now will you tell me how you got detention?"

"Nope," you answered.

Steve laughed again, shooting you an amused grin, before he shook his head. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. You seem to like your secrets."

"Oh, I'm full of surprises, Harrington."

"Yeah? I guess you are."

A companionable silence fell over the two of you once you reached the cafeteria. You helped Steve grab the food helpfully waiting for you on the lunch table closest to the door leading to the lunch line. You caught a glimpse of one of the women who regularly worked in the cafeteria through the open door. She raised her hand in a wave when she saw you and you offered her a smile in return.  

When you got back to the library, Mr. Himbry was pointedly looking at his wristwatch. "Another minute and you would have added another Saturday to both of your sentences." He considered the both of you, a scowl forming on his face. "And where are the drinks?"

"Uh," Steve started, shooting you an uncertain look. "You didn't mention anything about drinks, Mr. Himbry," he pointed out.

"It was implied, Mr. Harrington." Himbry sighed before he glanced away. "Wheeler and Byers," he called, snapping his fingers at the pair. "Go get drinks for everyone."

Nancy frowned, but didn't say anything as she got out of her seat. Steve watched Nancy as she passed by him, a look of longing on his face. You had heard about his brutal breakup with Nancy at Tina’s Halloween party and you couldn't help but feel a bit bad for him. By the look on his face, you figured it was safe to assume he wasn't over her.

You moved to take your seat again, dropping a sandwich and bag of chips in front of Billy.  

"Thanks, baby," he purred, sitting up in his chair.  

"Don't call me that," you snapped, shooting him a glare. You faced forward in your seat, noticing Himbry stepping out of the library and closing the door behind him, leaving you alone with Steve and Billy.

"Sure thing, sweetheart," Billy quipped, earning an eyeroll from you. "So, hey," you heard Billy say. "I heard an interesting rumor about Harrington."  

You saw Steve's shoulders tense, but he didn't bother to acknowledge that he had actually heard Billy.  

"I don't care," you answered, reaching out to slowly unwrap your sandwich.  

"I heard he's fucking both of them. Nancy and Byers." You heard Billy chuckle, as if amused by his own words. "The princess gets the freak and the jock. How's that for a fairytale ending?"

You noticed Steve's hands clench into fists. You only shared one class with both Billy and Steve, but that was enough to know that they had a complicated relationship. Billy constantly riled Steve up and thought it was hilarious when Steve finally snapped back. Hell, Billy liked to pick at everyone. You weren't sure if it was his own way of making sure he stayed at the top of the high school food chain or if he had another reason for bullying people, but you were sick of it.  

"You know what?" You said as you turned in your seat to look at Billy. You noticed his eyebrows rise in surprise, as if he didn't think you would actually be bold enough to stand up to him. "It's none of your business if they are in a relationship. You know whose business it is? Theirs. No one else's." You considered Billy for a moment, noticing the way he seemed to be studying you. "You know what I think, Billy?"

"Enlighten me," he retorted.

"I think you're lonely," you told him. "You spend so much of your time antagonizing other people so you don't have to take a good, hard look at yourself. Because once everything is said and done, all you have is yourself. And maybe you don’t like you all that much."

"You don't know a damn thing about me, sweetheart," Billy muttered, his tone close to a snarl.  

"Maybe that's because you don't want anyone to really look past those aviator glasses and that leather jacket," you pointed out. "Maybe if you let someone in, then you wouldn't feel the need to drag everyone else down with you. Maybe you should let someone lift you up."

Billy scoffed and shook his head. "That's the biggest piece of shit I've ever heard in my life."

You shrugged your shoulders, not bothering to respond as you turned back around in your seat.  

Steve was watching you, an unreadable expression on his face for a moment, before he grinned. You rolled your eyes, feeling yourself flush at his silent approval, before you began to pick at the sandwich in front of you.  

When Nancy and Jonathan got back, Himbry locked you in again.  

You thanked Jonathan when he handed you a can of soda. You noticed the way Steve reached out to clap a hand to Jonathan's shoulder and the soft smile Jonathan shot Steve in return. You couldn't help but wonder if there was any truth to Billy's words, but then immediately felt guilty for even thinking about it. If they really all were in a relationship, then you told yourself it wasn't any of your business. Although, a small part of you couldn't help but feel curious.  

You picked at your lunch, not really in the mood to eat. You really just wanted to go home and fall into bed.  

An hour managed to crawl past. The silence in the library was almost unnerving. You had long run out of space on your paper, so you had taken to using your pencil to try to color in the full page.  

Every so often, you heard Nancy, Steve, and Jonathan all softly whispering to each other, but you were never able to catch what they were talking about. You didn't really want to eavesdrop, but you were so bored out of your skull that you were just about ready to try anything to stop yourself from banging your head against the desk as a form of entertainment.  

"I'm bored," Billy groaned, finally breaking the silence in the room.

"No shit, Hargrove," Steve snapped. "We're all bored."

"Well, I have something that'll help," you heard Billy say.  

You turned in your seat to see he was reaching into his coat. When he pulled out a flask, you couldn't help but roll your eyes.

"Of course," you muttered to yourself, turning back around to face the front.  

"What?" Billy asked defensively. "You have something against making things interesting?"

"How is drinking going to make things interesting?" You wondered why Billy even thought to bring a flask to Saturday detention in the first place.  

"Because we're going to play a game," Billy said, reaching forward to poke at your shoulder.  

Steve turned in his seat, his eyebrow quirked at Billy. "You have to be kidding."

"Nope," you heard Billy say, a smile in his voice.  

You heard Nancy sigh before she turned to consider Billy as well. "What game?" She sounded like she didn’t really want to ask, but she was so bored she couldn’t help but grasp at any distraction.  

Billy was silent for a moment, as if thinking over his choices. You heard him snap his fingers before he spoke again. "Never Have I Ever," he offered.  

Jonathan snorted before he blushed when you all glanced at him, having obviously been caught off-guard by Billy's suggestion.  

"What? You've got something to offer, Byers?"

Jonathan sighed before he glanced at Billy over his shoulder. "Just thought you'd think something like that was lame."

"I'm bored, Byers," Billy drawled as he pulled his sunglasses off before putting them back in his jacket. "There's a hell of a lot I'd do to avoid that."

You heard Steve groan before he pushed his seat away from the table. "You know what? Fuck it," he conceded. "Sounds a lot better than sitting here in silence."

"I never thought you'd agree with me on something, Harrington."

"I still hate you," Steve told Billy, glaring at him.

"Feeling's mutual," Billy sneered.  

You shook your head, still working on shading in your piece of paper. You were going to have to get up soon and sharpen your pencil if you had any hope of completing your self-assigned project.  

"I'm out," you muttered. "You guys have fun."

"Oh, come on," Billy coaxed. "Live a little. Have some fun yourself for once."

"I don't want to play," you told him, not even bothering to look back at him.

"Why not? You scared I'm going to get to know you like you seem to think you know me?"

You finally turned and met his gaze, momentarily getting drawn in by the smug look on his face.

Playing this game with the others was probably a terrible idea. Steve had been right to guess you liked your secrets, and it was mostly because you were sick of other people judging you. You knew that Billy likely picked at people for the same reason you also didn’t let them in. You didn’t want others to see you and then decide you weren’t worth it.  

It was probably a terrible idea, but you really had nothing better to do. Besides, you didn’t like the challenging look on Billy’s face.  

"Fine," you finally bit out. "Let's play."

"Great," he said, a smirk pulling at his lips. "What about you, Byers? Wheeler? You in?"

Nancy rolled her eyes when Steve turned a pleading look on her.

"Oh, come on, Nance. Don't make me play by myself." His lower lip poked out in a pout and you saw the moment Nancy began to cave.

Nancy glanced to Jonathan, catching his hesitant nod, before a reluctant smile flashed across her face.  

"Alright," she agreed. "We're in."

"But how is it going to work with one flask between the five of us?" You couldn't help but ask. "Don't we all need our own drink?"

"We'll improvise," Billy answered with a shrug of his shoulders.  

"Wait," Nancy called, hastily getting to her feet. "Maybe we don't have to."

You frowned when she went behind the front desk and disappeared into the librarian's office. She came back after a few moments with a small stack of mini paper cups. "There's a water cooler in there," she explained. "These will make things easier at any rate."

"Alright, let's do this," Billy said, getting out of his chair.  

He moved to drop down into the seat next to yours while Nancy set the cups down in front of you. Steve and Jonathan had already turned their chairs to face your table and you felt weirdly flustered at the feeling of everyone focusing on you.  

"Look alive, nerd," Billy said, nudging you in the side with his elbow. "Make yourself useful and help me out here," he added, nodding at the cups in front of you.

You rolled your eyes before you reached out to grab the cups. You separated them, holding one out to Billy at a time as he poured a little of whatever was in his flask into each cup. You handed them out to the others as you went, wondering if this was such a good idea.

"Don't make me regret wasting the good stuff on you assholes," Billy said as he finished. He twisted the cap back onto his flask, shaking it for a moment as if checking to make sure he still had some left. "Plenty left to go around," he added. "So, who's going first?"

"I've got an idea," you said, reaching behind you to grab one of Billy's blank pieces of paper. You ripped the paper into pieces and wrote a number on each one. You made quick work of folding each piece and then mixing them up. "Okay, we'll just go in order of the numbers we choose."

"Smart," Steve commented, shooting you a quick smile, before he reached out to grab a number.

Jonathan ended up going first. He looked like he wasn't really sure what to say at first.

"Come on, Byers," Billy groaned. "Do you not know how to play?"

"I do," Jonathan assured, shooting Billy a glare. "Never have I ever," he started, trailing off for a moment. "Used a fake ID," he finally finished.  

Billy snorted before he downed his shot. You noticed Steve did as well.  

Steve scrunched up his face and shook his head, turning his head to cough into his sleeve. "What the fuck is that?"

"The good shit, Harrington," Billy said. "So shut up and drink up."

"My turn," Steve said, holding his cup out to Billy to refill. He seemed to think about what he wanted to say for a moment before he finally spoke. "Never have I ever played hooky."

You quirked an eyebrow at Steve. "Really?" You would have thought King Steve would have skipped school at least once before.  

"Really, really," he confirmed with a nod of his head before he smirked over at Nancy and Jonathan.

"Not fair," Nancy grumbled before she laughed and downed her shot, Jonathan not far behind her. You noticed Billy tip his head back as he had his second shot of the game.  

He glanced over at you when he noticed you watching him.  

"You're zero for two, sweetheart. You should join in on the fun."

"You're two for two," you reminded him. "Maybe you should start having a little less fun."

"Never," he said, smirking at you.  

You rolled your eyes, glancing away from him.  

"Your turn, Y/N," Nancy reminded you when you were silent for a few moments.  

"Right," you agreed, staring down at the '3' you had scribbled down on the slip of paper in front of you. You weren't really sure what to say. When you agreed to play the game, you seemed to have momentarily forgotten that you really hadn't done all that much. It made it easy to do your part now, sure, but you were about to make it clear how much of a social life you didn’t have. Maybe you really were as straitlaced and boring as everyone made you out to be.  

"Tick tock, babe," Billy drawled, knocking his shoulder lightly into yours.

"Don't call me that," you automatically said, barely even thinking about your response. "Alright, never have I ever been in a fist fight."

You noticed Steve, Jonathan, and Billy take a shot. You glanced to Jonathan, surprised that seemingly sweet and gentle Jonathan Byers had enough fire in him to have been in a fight.

Nancy went next, admitting that she had never been arrested.  

Billy and Jonathan downed a shot for that one.  

"You know, maybe I was wrong about you, Byers," Billy said. "You're quite the miscreant, aren't you?"

You noticed Jonathan's face flush, so you looked to Billy, figuring turnabout was fair play.

"Get on with it, Hargrove," you said, reaching out to tap your fingers against his slip of paper with the '5' written on it.  

"Patience, baby," Billy said. "I know how to make a good thing last."

You heard Steve groan and shake his head. "Stop flirting with the poor girl and just get on with it, Billy. This was your idea," he pointed out.

"Stop ruining my fun, Harrington," Billy snapped. He considered Steve for a moment before a wicked grin appeared on his face.  

You instinctively knew what he was about to say would likely be a dig at Steve.  

"Never have I ever," Billy started, pausing as if for dramatic effect. "Had a three-way," he finished after a few seconds.

You reached out to smack him on the shoulder. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" You hissed at him, shooting a quick, worried look at the three in front of you.

To your surprise, all three of them were taking a shot. You felt your eyes widen in surprise before you looked to Billy, noticing the satisfied smirk on his face.  

He leaned over until he was in your space. "Called it," he whispered, winking at you, before he pulled away.  

You hated to admit that you felt a tiny thrill at having Billy Hargrove so close to you that you could smell his cologne and feel his hair brush against your shoulder. You also would never admit that when he leaned away, it left you feeling just the tiniest bit bereft. You didn't understand why you seemed to have a bit of a crush on him. He did nothing but poke at people and call you pet names. He thought you were a stick in the mud and would probably never seriously glance your way when every other girl in the school was attracted to him and looking to get into his pants.

"Uh, earth to Y/N," Steve called. "You still playing?"

"What? Yeah," you answered, blinking at Steve. "What did I miss?"

"Byers here has never done drugs," Billy told you, watching you expectantly. When you didn't touch your cup, he snorted and shook his head. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Shut up," you muttered, feeling your cheeks flush.  

"My turn," Steve said. "Never have I ever flirted with a married person."

Billy was the only one to take a shot for that turn.  

"Why am I not surprised?" You echoed, fixing Billy with an unimpressed look.

"I can't help it if everyone knows I'm hot shit," Billy told you, seemingly unconcerned.

"You're one of those things," you muttered, ignoring Billy's scowl. "Alright, never have I ever had a friends-with-benefits relationship."

Billy smirked at you before he downed his shot. "We can fix that, you know."

"You're the last person I'd want to fix that for me," you told him, even though it was mostly a lie. Would you and Billy actually have any semblance of a functioning, healthy relationship? Unlikely. Would it be hot as hell while it lasted? Most likely.

You were able to take your first shot when Nancy admitted she never got stitches. You noticed Jonathan quirking an eyebrow at you in surprise, but you shrugged your shoulders, not wanting to get into the story.  

You hated to admit it, but as the game progressed and you got to know the others a bit more, you started actually having fun. You had managed to down a couple of more shots, admitting to being drunk at a family event and then later confessing to going skinny dipping.

"Never thought you would have had it in you," Billy said. He swayed in his seat, bumping companionably into you. "You've surprised me, angel."

You shrugged your shoulders, not wanting to fess up that the only reason you had gone skinny dipping was because you had been completely alone and didn't want to get your clothes wet. Still, when Billy shot you a pleased smile, you couldn't help but gift him with one of your own.

You noticed that, to your ultimate surprise, you all seemed to be bonding. You were all so different, but it seemed one dumb party game was enough to bring you together, if only for a small amount of time. If only because all of you had nothing better to do in that moment.  

When Nancy admitted that she hadn't lied in the game, shooting a pointed look at Steve, you couldn't help but laugh when he begrudgingly drained his cup.  

"Okay, so I have played hooky before," he offered with a shrug of his shoulders.  

"I knew it!" You pointed at him accusingly, catching the amused grin on his face.

It wasn't all fun, though. When you admitted that you never lost someone, Billy and Nancy both somberly took a shot.  

"I'm so sorry," you told them both. You knew Nancy must have been thinking about Barb. The aftermath of the discovery about Hawkins Lab and their involvement in Barb's death just a few weeks before had rocked the town. You knew that Barb’s absence had to be eating away at Nancy and couldn't imagine what it was like to lose your best friend.  

You noticed Steve's arm come up to wrap around Nancy's shoulders as Jonathan reached out to grab her hand. You glanced away from them, giving them a moment of privacy, as you considered Billy. You couldn't help but feel curious about his loss, but you knew it wasn't your place to ask. Instead, you reached out to cautiously squeeze his shoulder, before you drew your hand back. He gave you a lingering look, his eyes dipping down and then back up, as if checking you out.  

He cleared his throat, glancing over towards Nancy. "Alright, your turn Wheeler. What do you got?"

By the time the contents of Billy's flask were dangerously low, everyone was at least a little bit tipsy.

"Somehow, I doubt this was what we were supposed to do in detention," Jonathan said, glancing around at the group.  

"Yeah, this has almost been nice," you reluctantly admitted.  

"Enough for one more round left," Billy said, shaking the flask in his hand. He moved to stuff it back into the inner pocket of his jacket before he glanced at you. "Your turn, babe. Make it a good one."

You didn’t even bother to tell him not to call you that, since from the shit-eating grin on his face, he knew.  

It was then you noticed everyone's attention on you. You bit your lip, struggling to think of something interesting, but not embarrassing, to confess.  

"Never have I ever had sex in a car," you finally offered, shrugging your shoulders at Billy's incredulous look.

Only Steve, Nancy, and Billy ended up drinking to that. You glanced down to the shot in front of you before you looked to Jonathan.  

"We can be losers together," you told him, holding out your cup towards him. "Cheers?"

You saw a brief smile flit across his face before he reached forward with his cup to tap it against yours.  

"Cheers," he said before he drained his cup.  

Once you downed your shot, you noticed Billy staring at you.  

"What?" You felt suddenly defensive, not knowing why he was watching you so closely.  

Billy startled, as if he hadn't realized he was still looking at you. "Nothing," he immediately denied, shrugging his shoulders. "Just don't get how you can be so boring."

"What?" It felt like your stomach dropped at his words, a cold wash of dread crashing down on you.  

"You took the least shots out of all of us. You've done nothing," he added. "You just spend your days making all your little class notes and probably having wet dreams about acing your calculus exam."

You felt the good mood you had just moments before suddenly dissipate.  

"Leave her alone, Billy," Nancy snapped. "What has she ever done to you?"

"Y/N, are you okay?" Steve asked, leaning forward and watching you in concern.

"Fine," you said. "Just regretting thinking that maybe Billy Hargrove wasn't such a dick for a moment."

"Oh," Billy breathed on a helpless laugh. "So, you do have some teeth. There's the fight I was looking for."

"I would think you've had enough of fights," Jonathan told Billy, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I love fights," Billy argued. "Especially when I always win. Just ask Harrington here," Billy continued, gesturing towards Steve. "Or did you forget I just beat the shit out of your boyfriend a few weeks ago?"

It wasn't long before an argument broke out. It seemed that Billy just couldn't help riling up the others. You sat at the desk, picking at the side of your paper cup, and wished that detention was over. All you could think about was Billy calling you boring and thinking that you lived and breathed for nothing except school. You weren’t sure why his words stung, but they did.  

You jumped at the sound of the library door slamming open, Himbry standing in the doorway with a scowl on his face.

"I can hear you kids yelling from just down the hallway. What the hell is going on in here?"

"Nothing, sir," Billy said, reaching into his jacket and pulling his sunglasses back out. He put them on, smirking at Himbry as he leaned back in his seat. "Just having a little friendly conversation."

Himbry snorted as he walked farther into the room. You noticed Nancy hastily reach out to grab the other paper cups and stack them again before hiding them beneath her chair.  

"I know better than to think there's anything friendly about you, Hargrove. I've had to suffer through having all of you in my school for some time now. You think I don't notice things? I notice things!" Himbry's face was starting to flush red in anger as his voice steadily rose. "You kids think you run this school, but you'll be out of here soon enough! And who's stuck here taking care of the next generation? Me," he hissed, pointing a finger at Billy.  

"Uh, Mr. Himbry?" Nancy hesitantly spoke up. "Are you okay?"

"No," he snapped. "I've had enough of this and I obviously can't trust the five of you to follow rules. So, you're each going to a study room and you're going to stay there, by yourself, until Saturday detention is over."

"Fine by me," you muttered, already moving to grab your stuff.  

A couple of minutes later, you were back in the study room you had retreated to for solace earlier that day. You went back to trying to shade in your paper, hating that Billy Hargrove of all people had managed to get under your skin.  

You weren't sure how long you had been sitting there, glaring down at the progressively-darkening paper in front of you, before the door to your study room opened.  

You glanced over your shoulder, hoping it was Himbry telling you it was time to go home, but to your surprise it was Billy standing just inside the room.  

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Billy shrugged his shoulders before he pulled his sunglasses off. "I was thinking," he said, moving to sit down in the chair beside yours.

"I didn't say you were welcome here," you reminded him.  

"Come on, Y/N," Billy said, grinning at you. "You can't tell me you weren't a little excited to see me here."

"I'm not excited to see you here. Get out," you told him, already turning away from him.

"Hey," he called, his tone softer than before. He reached out to wrap his fingers around your wrist, tugging until you faced him again. "I wanted to apologize."

"What?" You blurted, thrown for a loop by his words. "You can't be serious. Are you just making fun of me again?"

"No," he insisted. "God, this is why I don't tell people I'm sorry. They always give me shit for it."

"You have to admit it's a little unexpected given your track record," you couldn't help but point out to him.

Billy brought his hand up to scratch the back of his neck, a nervous smile on his face that looked remarkably out of place. You were used to Billy practically oozing an obvious charm that he bestowed on anyone he thought he could get into bed. Otherwise, he was almost hostile, picking fights and mostly winning them. A nervous and awkward Billy Hargrove wasn’t something you thought you would ever witness.  

"You know, I've seen you around school before. You get this smile on your face when you think no one's looking. Like, you're away in your head and anywhere else other than this shithole. It's nice," he said.  

"You've noticed me? I thought you were too busy being too cool for someone as boring as I am."

"Oh, I've noticed you," he confirmed with a nod of his head. "And I shouldn't have called you boring. But I just always thought you were too good for me. You’re going to graduate top of the class and go to some fancy university in a big city. You’re better than Hawkins and you’re better than me."

"Maybe I am and maybe I’m not," you said, rolling your eyes. "But maybe if you stopped being such a dick to me, then you'd find that out for yourself. Maybe if you actually got to know me, then you would know that I have more to offer than my good grades."

Billy narrowed his eyes at you before a self-satisfied grin broke out on his face. "Alright, then," he said, leaning back in his seat. "We've still got at least an hour locked in here. What do you say to getting to know each other a little better?"

You raised an eyebrow at him. "Just talking?"

Billy held his hands up, palms facing towards you. "Just talking," he promised, even though the smirk on his face did nothing to convince you he wasn't lying.  

You thought that maybe Billy Hargrove wasn't capable of being alone in a room with a girl without making a dozen innuendos. You thought Billy Hargrove would have hit on you relentlessly or tried to goad you into doing something more than having a conversation. You thought Billy Hargrove would rather eat his own shoe than spend over an hour with you alone, simply talking and getting to know each other better.  

Billy Hargrove managed to surprise you.

During your time together, you learned that the loss he admitted to earlier during the game was his mom.

"She didn't die or anything," he told you, shrugging his shoulders as if unbothered by what he was saying. From the pained look in his eyes, you knew that he still obviously cared a lot. "But she ran out on me and I haven't seen or heard from her since. Left me in a pretty shitty situation," he confessed, carefully not looking at you. “She’s as good as dead to me now.”

"I'm sorry," you said, at a loss for anything else to say.  

"Whatever," Billy breathed, his expression smoothing out. "So, what did someone like you do to end up in here?"

You normally wouldn't have wanted to fess up, but after Billy had practically bared his soul for you just moments before, or as close to it as he ever got, you couldn't help but want to trust him with something of yours.

"I threw a book through Mr. Himbry's office window. Smashed it."

"What? That was you?" Billy looked almost impressed as he finally looked at you again. "Why the hell did you do that?"

You shrugged your shoulders. "I was going to fail gym. I told him it was a bullshit requirement, but he wouldn't listen to me. I guess I got angry. He said the only reason I wasn't expelled was because I was top of the class."

"A hothead, huh?" Billy chuckled, an expression that looked a lot like fond amusement appearing on his face. "I can respect that."

As more time passed and Billy revealed more and more of himself to you, you couldn't help but wonder if he was ever this open and candid with anyone else.  

You talked about favorite movies and teachers you both hated. He told you about his car and you bemoaned your lack of one. You told him about some of your favorite books and he shared some memories about his favorite places in California.  

By the time the end of your detention was approaching, you felt like you had gotten to see a side of Billy Hargrove that no one else was allowed to.

"So, hey," Billy started, tapping his fingers on the surface of the table. "I was thinking I could help you out."

"With what?" You asked, wondering what he could possibly be talking about.  

"With some of your answers to that game. Or, I mean, lack of answers," he amended. "You barely got to participate. It's a little sad."

You rolled your eyes. "I'm not having sex with you in your car just because I've never done that before." Even if it is a nice car, you couldn’t help but think to yourself.  

He laughed, sounding genuinely amused by your words. "That's not what I had in mind," he muttered before he leaned forward in his chair. He reached out, tipping your chin up towards him, before he brushed his lips against yours. "This okay?" He quietly asked, pulling back only enough to meet your gaze.  

You nodded your head, pulling him back towards you. It was strange to think that you started the day dreading the sight of Billy Hargrove and now you felt almost breathless with anticipation while he was pressed so close to you.  

One little Saturday detention had somehow managed to change your opinion of him. You couldn’t help but admit to yourself that you really didn’t hate the turn of events that ended up with his lips pressed to yours and his fingers carding through your hair.  

The next time the door to your study room opened, it really was Himbry.

"Enough!" He snapped when he caught you and Billy making out. "It's bad enough that you two ended up in Saturday detention in the first place, but it’s even worse that you just couldn't respect my rules for even one day." He sighed, sounding oddly defeated. "Detention is over. Get out of here. I'll see you two here next Saturday." As he turned, you heard him mutter under his breath. "Honestly, between these two and the other three, I'm starting to wonder why we even bother with Saturday detention anymore."

When you turned back towards the table, you caught Billy looking at you.  

"What?" You couldn't quite read the look on his face, but it had you shivering in your seat.  

"Nothing," he answered as he reached forward. He pressed his thumb just under your jaw, a smirk on his face. "Looks like I helped you out with something after all."

You remembered his biting kisses to the skin he was considering with an intent in his eyes that you couldn't help but melt at seeing. You also remembered admitting earlier that you had never before gotten a hickey.  

"You're something else," you muttered, moving to gather your stuff. You briefly wondered if you would be able to hide the love bites Billy had gifted you with, but a part of you really didn’t want to.  

You left the study room, aware of Billy trailing right behind you.  

When you looked up, you noticed Nancy righting her blouse just outside the study room she had been confined to earlier. Steve and Jonathan were just right behind her, talking softly to each other.

It was then you suddenly understood Himbry's words from just moments before. You quirked an eyebrow at Nancy when she realized she had your attention and she blushed in response, shrugging her shoulders. You grinned at her before you mimed zipping your lips shut. She shot you a grateful look before turning towards Steve and Jonathan.

"Told you," Billy whispered in your ear.  

You glanced at him over your shoulder before you shook your head. “You better not go spreading that around school,” you warned him. “It’s not yours to tell.”

Billy didn’t bother to answer, but from the expression on his face, you hoped he agreed to keep his mouth shut.  

You walked out of the library, already dreading the walk home. You pulled your jacket back on, knowing that it would likely be freezing outside.

When you opened the front doors to the school, you shivered at the blast of cold air that greeted you.  

You hastily tugged your gloves back on and pulled your jacket tighter around you. You only made it a few steps away from the front doors before you felt someone tug on the sleeve of your jacket.  

"Hey, nerd," Billy called, an almost affectionate tone to his voice. "Let me give you a ride home. You'll catch pneumonia walking in this cold."

"And you care?"

"Just get in the car, Y/N," he groaned before nodding over towards his blue Camaro.  

You watched him step towards his car before sending you a questioning glance over his shoulder. You moved to follow after him, feeling a little exhilarated as you ducked into the passenger seat.  

The car ride to your house was filled with an almost awkward silence. You weren't really sure where you stood with Billy now that you weren't sentenced to spending time together. Were you friends? Something more? Surely friends didn't make out with each other, right? You had certainly never given any of your friends a hickey. But were you dating? Were you anything other than a Saturday detention fling to Billy?

By the time Billy pulled into your driveway, you had managed to almost convince yourself that the connection you thought you had forged with Billy was tenuous at best. He would probably never speak to you again past today and the thought hurt, even though you knew you didn't really have any claim to him or his time.  

You moved to get out of the car. You hated that he wasn't saying anything as you pushed yourself out of the car and closed the passenger side door shut behind you.

"So, Y/N," Billy called, looking at you through the open passenger window.  

"Yeah?" You pulled your jacket tighter around you, shivering at the chill in the air.  

"Can I call you some time?"

You felt your breath hitch, your knees going a little weak at the expectant look on his face. He looked as if he was looking forward to the idea of speaking to you again.  

"Sure," you answered, trying to keep your tone even. If you let him know just how eager you felt for more of his time, then he wouldn't let you live it down.  

"Great," he said, reaching into the front pocket of his jacket and pulling out a carton of cigarettes. He shook one out before he placed it between his lips, his gaze going to you as he lit the end of the cigarette with a lighter he pulled from the glove compartment.  

You weren't really sure if you were supposed to leave now, but you couldn't help but say one more thing before stepping away from the car.

"So, I guess I'll see you at the next Saturday detention," you reminded him. A part of you really hoped that it was only going to be you and Billy there. You relished the idea of having Billy all to yourself.  

He smiled at you, pulling the cigarette away from his mouth to breathe out a cloud of smoke.  

"It's a date," he agreed.

[hexalt]

CW for discussion of suicide

- She's the crazy ex-girlfriend - What? No, I'm not. - She's the crazy ex-girlfriend - That's a sexist term! - She's the crazy ex-girlfriend - Can you guys stop singing for just a second? - She's so broken insiiiiiide! - The situation's a lot more nuanced than that!

There’s the essay! You get it now. JK.

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend is the culmination of Rachel Bloom’s YouTube channel (and the song “Fuck Me, Ray Bradbury” in particular where she combined her lifelong obsession with musical theatre and sketch comedy and Aline Brosh McKenna stumbling onto Bloom’s channel one night while having an idea for a television show that subverted the tropes in scripts she’d been writing like The Devil Wears Prada and 27 Dresses.

The show begins with a flashback to teenage Rebecca Bunch (played by Bloom) at summer camp performing in South Pacific. She leaves summer camp gushing about the performance, holding hands with the guy she spent all summer with, Josh Chan. He says it was fun for the time, but it’s time to get back to real life. We flash forward to the present in New York, Rebecca’s world muted in greys and blues with clothing as conservative as her hair.

She’s become a top tier lawyer, a career that she doesn’t enjoy but was pushed into by her overprotective, controlling mother. She’s just found out she’s being promoted to junior partner, and that’s just objectively, on paper fantastic, right?! ...So why isn’t she happy? She goes out onto the streets in the midst of a panic attack, spilling her pills all over the ground, and suddenly sees an ad for butter asking, “When was the last time you were truly happy?” A literal arrow and beam of sunlight then point to none other than Josh Chan. She strikes up a conversation with him where he tells her he’s been trying to make it in New York but doesn’t like it, so he’s moving back to his hometown, West Covina, California, where everyone is just...happy.

The word echoes in her mind, and she absorbs it like a pill. She decides to break free of the hold others have had over her life and turns down the promotion of her mother’s dreams. I didn’t realize the show was a musical when I started it, and it’s at this point that Rebecca is breaking out into its first song, “West Covina”. It’s a parody of the extravagant, classic Broadway numbers filled with a children’s marching band whose funding gets cut, locals joining Rebecca in synchronized song and dance, and finishing with her being lifted into the sky while sitting on a giant pretzel. This was the moment I realized there was something special here.

With this introduction, the stage has been set for the premise of the show. Each season was planned with an overall theme. Season one is all about denial, season two is about being obsessed with love and losing yourself in it, season three is about the spiral and hitting rock bottom, and season four is about renewal and starting from scratch. You can see this from how the theme songs change every year, each being the musical thesis for that season.

We start the show with a bunch of cliché characters: the crazy ex-girlfriend; her quirky sidekick; the hot love interest; his bitchy girlfriend; and his sarcastic best friend who’s clearly a much better match for the heroine. The magic of Crazy Ex-Girlfriend is that no one in West Covina is the sum of their tropes. As Rachel says herself, “People aren’t badly written, people are made of specificities.”

The show is revolutionary for the authenticity with which it explores various topics but for the sake of this piece, we’ll discuss mental health, gender, Jewish identity, and sexuality. All topics that Bloom has dug into in her previous works but none better than here.

Simply from the title, many may be put off, but this is a story that has always been about deconstructing stereotypes. Rather than being called The Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, where the story would be from an outsider’s perspective, this story is from that woman’s point of view because the point isn’t to demonize Rebecca, it’s to understand her. Even if you hate her for all the awful things she’s doing.

The musical numbers are shown to be in Rebecca’s imagination, and she tells us they’re how she processes the world, but as she starts healing in the final season, she isn’t the lead singer so often anymore and other characters get to have their own problems and starring roles. When she does have a song, it’s because she’s backsliding into her former patterns.

While a lot of media will have characters that seem to have some sort of vague disorder, Crazy Ex-Girlfriend goes a step further and actually diagnoses Rebecca with Borderline Personality Disorder, while giving her an earnest, soaring anthem. She’s excited and relieved to finally have words for what’s plagued her whole life.

When diagnosing Rebecca, the show’s team consulted with doctors and psychiatrists to give her a proper diagnosis that ended up resonating with many who share it. BPD is a demonized and misunderstood disorder, and I’ve heard that for many, Crazy Ex-Girlfriend is the first honest and kind depiction they’ve seen of it in media. Where the taboo of mental illness often leads people to not get any help, Crazy Ex-Girlfriend says there is freedom and healing in identifying and sharing these parts of yourself with others.

Media often uses suicide for comedy or romanticizes it, but Crazy Ex-Girlfriend explored what’s going through someone’s mind to reach that bottomless pit. Its climactic episode is written by Jack Dolgen (Bloom’s long-time musical collaborator, co-songwriter and writer for the show) who’s dealt with suicidal ideation. Many misunderstood suicide as the person simply wanting to die for no reason, but Rebecca tells her best friend, “I didn’t even want to die. I just wanted the pain to stop. It’s like I was out of stories to tell myself that things would be okay.”

Bloom has never shied away from heavy topics. The show discusses in song the horrors of what women do to their bodies and self-esteem to conform to beauty standards, the contradiction of girl power songs that tell you to “Put Yourself First” but make sure you look good for men while doing it, and the importance of women bonding over how terrible straight men are are near and dear to her heart. This is a show that centers marginalized women, pokes fun at the misogyny they go through, and ultimately tells us the love story we thought was going to happen wasn’t between a woman and some guy but between her and her best friend.

I probably haven’t watched enough Jewish TV or film, but to me, Crazy Ex-Girlfriend is the most unapologetic and relatable Jewish portrayal I’ve seen overall. From Rebecca’s relationship with her toxic, controlling mother (if anyone ever wants to know what my mother’s like, I send them “Where’s the Bathroom”) to Patti Lupone’s Rabbi Shari answering a Rebecca that doesn’t believe in God, “Always questioning! That is the true spirit of the Jewish people,” the Jewish voices behind the show are clear.

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend continues to challenge our perceptions when a middle-aged man with an ex-wife and daughter realizes he’s bisexual and comes out in a Huey Lewis saxophone reverie. The hyper-feminine mean girl breaks up with her boyfriend and realizes the reason she was so obsessed with getting him to commit to her is the same reason she’s so scared to have female friends. She was suffering under the weight of compulsory heterosexuality, but thanks to Rebecca, she eventually finds love and friendship with women.

This thread is woven throughout the show. Many of the characters tell Rebecca when she’s at her lowest of how their lives would’ve never changed for the better if it wasn’t for her. She was a tornado that blew through West Covina, but instead of leaving destruction in her wake, she blew apart their façades, forcing true introspection into what made them happy too.

Rebecca’s story is that of a woman who felt hopeless, who felt no love or happiness in her life, when that’s all she’s ever wanted. She tried desperately to fill that void through validation from her parents and random men, things romantic comedies had taught her matter most but came up empty. She tried on a multitude of identities through the musical numbers in her mind, seeing herself as the hero and villain of the story, and eventually realized she’s neither because life doesn’t make narrative sense.

It takes her a long time but eventually she sees that all the things she thought would solve her problems can’t actually bring her happiness. What does is the real family she finds in West Covina, the town she moved to on a whim, and finally having agency over herself to use her own voice and tell her story through music.

The first words spoken by Rebecca are, “When I sang my solo, I felt, like, a really palpable connection with the audience.” Her last words are, “This is a song I wrote.” This connection with the audience that brought her such joy is something she finally gets when she gets to perform her story not to us, the TV audience, but to her loved ones in West Covina. Rebecca (and Rachel) always felt like an outcast, West Covina (and creating the show) showed her how cathartic it is to find others who understand you.

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend is the prologue to Rebecca’s life and the radical story of someone getting better. She didn’t need to change her entire being to find acceptance and happiness, she needed to embrace herself and accept love and help from others who truly cared for her. Community is what she always needed and community is what ultimately saved her.

*

P.S. If you have Spotify... I also process life through music, so I made some playlists related to the show because what better way to express my deep affection for it than through song?

CXG parodies, references, and is inspired by a lot of music from all kinds of genres, musicals, and musicians. Same goes for the videos themselves. I gathered all of them into one giant playlist along with the show’s songs.

A Rebecca Bunch mix that goes through her character arc from season 1 to 4.

I’m shamelessly a fan of Greg x Rebecca, so this is a mega mix of themselves and their relationship throughout the show.

*

I’m in a TV group where we wrote essays on our favorite shows of the 2010s, so here is mine on Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, I realized I forgot to ever post it. Also wrote one for Schitt’s Creek.

[mozillavulpix]

super anti-komahina salt

and this is to go further beyond

I saw a komahina fan post a write-up and it just irritates me so I want to break it down:

“If you think Komaeda is batshit insane or that his character is only about his obsession with hope and you interpreted Hinata's feelings about Komaeda as just hate of course it wouldn't make sense. Except neither of these are true for their characters.”

This is the basic surface-level narrative Komahina fans argue against, and fair enough, it’s a massive generalisation. But this argument also just irritates me because it implies everyone who doesn’t ship them do so because they don’t understand the characters well enough.

“long story short Komaeda's obsesses over hope as a coping mechanism, because it's the only thing he can cling to.”

I can agree with this in a way, but in my opinion I don’t think he’s so weak that it’s impossible for him break free from that mindset (during the game) if he really wants to.

“Komaeda doesn't like Hinata because he thinks he is talented and above him, Komaeda says he loves all ultimates but it's not real love. His love for Hinata is different. In the SDR2 drama CD he mentions that he loves Hinata because he tries to understand him.”

I can agree with this. Although the Drama CD is literally just the Free Time Events, I don’t think it’s some kind of ‘gotcha’ like people think it’d be.

But also keep in mind, yes, Hajime tries to give Nagito a chance and doesn’t immediately run away screaming because scary person he can’t understand, but Hajime also doesn’t particularly act more saintly than all the other kids towards Nagito after Chapter 1. Nekomaru and Kazuichi seem to at least try to hear Nagito out before they punch him in the face. Mahiru seems like she was the first one to consider giving him breakfast. Hajime tries to stop Akane from attacking him after the Chapter 1 trial, but mostly because he’s resigned to the fact it won’t change what he did, and he then changes his mind and gets pissed off when Nagito decides to taunt him about his amnesia in response. And it’s Sonia who finally settles everyone down. So yes, Hajime tries to understand Nagito, but in the actual plot itself that’s not a special trait unique to him.

It’s only ‘unique’ if you choose to do the Free Time Events, and the Free Time Events...are basically not canon. They’re more like a what-if scenario the player chooses to view, and the dialogue was written from that perspective.

As in, maybe it’s canon that they’d interact like that if they spent time together on the island, but it’s not canon that Hajime does and wants to do that during the story. Because you can do them for everyone.

“And they reach a mutual understanding in DR3 because the two of them are more alike than Hinata would like to admit.”

Um...

Well, this is why DR2.5 is bullshit

I agree they’re similar, but I think both of them knew this from the very beginning. It’s not exactly a reason for reconciliation and forgiveness. The fact they have similarities is the exact reason why Hajime is so upset at his betrayal, and snaps back at Nagito every time he brings that up. So I don’t know if that’s really a good reason to explain why they’ve forgiven each other come DR3.

“Komaeda doesn't see himself as above untalented reserves either, because in 2-4, after realizing the truth about Hinata he says that they are the same, stepladders for hope. He was lashing out at all the students for being despair. They are similar, because they both share the same views that talent is everything.”

And then Hajime gets his character development for the rest of the game all so he can realise talent isn’t everything. So...?

“Now from Hinata's end, a lot of people seem to miss this about him, but he is someone who denies his feelings when they get inconvenient, he is called a tsundere by monokuma” 

I guess this is a diss against the surface-level people and people who are like “but the text literally says this”. But even then, the game literally shows Hajime’s inner thoughts. If he’s conflicted about things, the text generally shows that too, even if it’s with a careful inclusion of a ‘...’

So I don’t think we should take that trait as an excuse to literally ignore what the text says.

He was felt pumped when Komaeda was out of critical condition, but he thinks "why do I have to feel pumped, oh well best not to think about it"....because Hinata likes to avoid facing things that inconvenient him. Hinata finds it hard to trust Komaeda and doesn't play along with him, because he is afraid of getting caught in his pace, and not because he hates him and thinks he is better off dead.

This part literally read like a high-schooler’s english essay, and maybe this kid actually is a high-schooler, tbh. Because that is one big leap from “Hajime finds it difficult to deal with his feelings” to “since Hajime finds it difficult to deal with Nagito, it means he doesn’t hate him”.

“I don't think Komaeda is a fundametally bad person but is shaped to be what he is because of his luck cycle. In his last FTE, Hinata asks what Komaeda would do if didn't have his luck cycle, and his answer was something along the lines of " a normal life, devoid of hope and despair". And we get to that his innermost desires is to live a normal life in the OVA, and his character song zansakura zanka.”

He can also just decide to not believe in his luck cycle.

Also, in the OVA, he’s embarrassed by that inner desire and tells World Destroyer he hopes no one saw that maybe he wishes for a world without talent.

Like his desire to be a good person is so hidden that he doesn’t want people to know.

“Hinata even mentions Komaeda isn't trying to trick anyone for selfish reasons in his report card, so it's a shame to see so many people attribute all of Komaeda's actions to malice just because of what Hinata thought of him in chapter 5 because it wasn't clear what Komaeda's reasons were at that point.”

Okay, a few things to unpack here:

Just because Nagito is doing things ‘for the greater good’, doesn’t mean it’s not also selfish. Hajime isn’t going to say that because Hajime doesn’t realise that. You can’t exactly trust him with being able to articulate everything about a character’s worldview. Izuru would. He probably does in Chapter 0. (And that’s why he seems disgusted by him).

Also, there’s “maybe Hajime is a slightly unreliable narrator because he tries to avoid thinking about difficult things”, and there’s “actually, the majority of how Hajime views Chapter 5 is unreliable because he didn’t know for sure if Nagito’s plan was malicious or not, it was just his gut feeling”.

What about the video message after Chapter 5? What about having to spell out ‘KILL US ALL’? What about Chapter 0 showing how in the real world Nagito had completely lost it? It’s not like the game was trying to present Nagito as any little bit more sympathetic after the trial. If anything, every piece of new info reinforced that mindset Nagito was filled with malice, up to the ‘fake Makoto’ saying that he somewhat understood him. The fake Hope made by Junko to trick them.

If you compare Chapter 5 in 2 to Chapter 5 in V3, you can see how the positioning is different. V3 does the “the villain tries to make himself look the worst he can in the mind of the heroes when in reality his real intentions were different” a lot better. More flat-out intentionally - the protagonist kind of literally giving a monologue about how the character was morally grey and even at the end there they couldn’t say they knew their true intentions. But also it’s just not as...sinister as 2-5. No ominous chanting, no dismembered limbs, none of the characters feeling completely out of their element and terrified. I think it’s text that Nagito is supposed to be villainous in Chapter 5 and even past Chapter 5.

So...

I can at least understand where Komahina comes from, but god it annoys me

Unpacking it like this, I can see it’s not even fair to argue back a lot of it - the stuff people are saying do make sense and are arguing against kinds of people I have seen.

Besides, I’m not arguing Komahina ‘can’t be canon’.

My view is just I think Hajime deserves better than a character like Nagito, who never repented for his actions on-screen or even gave much of a hint that he wanted to repent for his actions.

And that it’s still easy to argue that Nagito is a bad person even with his trauma.

Not everyone who calls Nagito an awful person is an idiot who doesn’t know how to read text past the surface, you can still make a nuanced take with that conclusion

for god’s sake

[infinitelytheheartexpands]

My Personal Opinions on Some French Grand Opéras

Here we go. I’ll be focusing solely on pieces in what’s widely considered the “Golden Age” of grand opéra (from 1828 to about 1870).

1828, Auber: La muette de Portici: never seen or heard so I cannot comment, but I do think it slaps that it helped start both the Belgian Revolution and the genre of grand opéra.

1829, Rossini: Guillaume Tell: I love this one. it’s one of the few grand opéras that has a happy ending and it’s fully deserved. it’s long but it all has a point-- the first act introduces us to the community spirit that drives the rest of the action; even though it’s called Guillaume Tell, it’s not just about Guillaume Tell. it’s about a whole movement coming together, with all these vividly-drawn people of different social statuses, ages, heritages, and livelihoods coming together to do good in the world in the face of oppression. also it’s Rossini so it bops start to finish. the finale is one of opera’s best. I could not have higher praise and admiration for this piece.

1831, Meyerbeer: Robert le diable: another rare case of a grand opéra with a happy ending, but it feels a bit more contrived, something I wrote about when I watched it about a year ago for the first time. it’s quite a clever ending, however, and I love that these lovely characters get a happy ending. Robert is the least interesting principal character both musically and dramatically; the musical highlights of the show are mostly Bertram and Isabelle’s big scenes. the former is also arguably grand opéra’s most exciting ballet sequence, the Act III ballet of the nuns (or as I like to call it, the Zombie Nun Ballet). it’s long but it is incredibly worth it. overall, I really do enjoy this opera although it is very much an uneven piece.

1833, Auber: Gustave III, ou le bal masqué: here’s a thing I wrote about it like 3 months ago and I stand by every word.

1835, Halévy: La juive: It’s damn near impossible to find an even remotely close to complete recording. However, what the recordings have is excellent. The score is marvelous all the way through, although for the most part I tend to prefer the ensembles to the arias (the exception, of course, being Éléazar’s 11 o’clock number). Speaking of Éléazar, he’s an extremely complicated and frankly uncomfortable character, toeing the line between being one of opera’s most complex characters, an even more complicated proto-gender-swapped-Azucena if you will, and being an unfortunate vessel of antisemitic stereotypes. This is made even more complicated because Halévy was an assimilated Jewish composer. On the whole, Rachel is the only wholly sympathetic character in the piece, although all five of the principals are lovingly scored. 

1836, Meyerbeer: Les Huguenots: *holds things in because otherwise I would write an entire essay about this opera and you all know that because I have done that several times* Both a great strength and a great weakness of this piece is its sheer wide-ranging-ness, particularly in terms of mood. Unlike, say, La juive, this opera does not have one overall mood, instead steadily progressing from bright, brilliant comedy to one of the most horrifying endings in opera. Dramatically, this is great for the most part, although the sheer amount of exposition in the first two acts may take getting used to. Just as the drama gets more intense and concentrated as the opera goes on, the music gets more intense- and frankly, more often than not better- as the opera goes on. The window/misunderstood engagement business is something I still struggle to see the exact dramatic purpose of, because I think the question of religious difference would likely be enough to separate Raoul and Valentine at the beginning anyway; to me, it feels like Scribe and Deschamps were struggling to find a way to integrate Nevers into the story, as he is crucial to the opera’s lessons about love and tolerance, so they stuck in a quasi-love-triangle in order to justify his presence earlier on. (Also, for goodness sake, could you at least have given him an onstage death scene?) Anyway, in this way the story can be a bit unwieldy and uneven at first, but stay the course with this one...and even a lot of the first couple of acts are wonderful. The characters are all wonderfully written if rather episodic in many cases, but this opera is ambitious and by the end, it’ll tear your heart to shreds. It’s amazing. Uneven, yes, but amazing nonetheless, and I will defend it to the death.

1840, Donizetti: La favorite: I’m not as familiar with La favorite as with some of the others on this list (I’ve seen two different productions once each and I have a recording of it saved to my Spotify library that I listen to bits and pieces of very occasionally) but I do think it’s an excellent piece overall. LÉONOR DESERVED SO MUCH BETTER. The music is lovely all around; I know Donizetti wrote at least one other grand opéra in full and part of another, both of which I need to check out because in its own way, Donizetti’s style works wonderfully with grand opéra.

1841: Halévy, La reine de Chypre: here is a post I wrote about La reine de Chypre. basically all my thoughts remain the same except I have to add: Halévy as a whole just needs more love. there’s a few other of his operas I have waiting (a recording of Le dilettante d’Avignon that has been sitting in my Spotify for who knows how long and a film of Clari with Bartoli and Osborn I’m also sitting on) but there are so many pieces that sound fascinating but have basically ZILCH in terms of recordings.

1849, Meyerbeer: Le prophète: before I say anything else about this opera, I need to ask a burning question: WHY THE HELL IS THERE ONLY ONE GOOD VIDEO RECORDING OF THIS OPERA?!?! on the one hand, I adore the Osborn/Aldrich/Fomina production; on the other, I would also like other productions, please. anyway, I said one time in the opera Discord that while Les Huguenots will probably always be my favorite Meyerbeer opera for an array of reasons, this one is definitely Meyerbeer, Scribe, and Deschamps’ strongest work. it is both unusually dark and unusually believable for an opera of its time—and the fact that it still holds up so well is disturbing to say the least. this opera thrives on complexity in all forms and yet has probably (and paradoxically) the simplest plot to follow of the four Meyerbeer grand opéras. the score is brilliant start to finish, mixing the best of bel canto, Romanticism, and something altogether darker, stranger, and more original. definitely one of the most underrated operas ever. the aforementioned production is on YouTube with French subtitles; give it a watch here.

1855, Verdi: Les vêpres siciliennes: Vêpres is an opera I love dearly although I have yet to find a production that is completely satisfying. I think it’s because this opera is a lot deeper, a lot more complex, and a lot more troubling, frankly, than people are willing to go. also it should be performed bilingually and I am dead-set on this: the dissonance of an opera about French capture of Italian land being sung entirely in either French or Italian is always a little off at least (and also part of the reason why my brain probably adjusted to hearing this opera in either language better than, say, Don Carlos). but anyway, neither side comes off particularly well here, particularly due to the violence and sexual assault on both sides of the equation: both Montfort and Procida are heavily in the wrong, and while Verdi sympathizes with both for personal reasons (Verdian Dad in the former case, Italian Liberator in the latter), there is a lot of troubling stuff in here. nevertheless, the music bops, the story is intriguing, and I think we can all agree that Henri and Hélène both deserved better, especially considering how close they got to bliss (although I think we can also all agree that the end of Act IV twist to almost-rom-com is pretty abrupt).

1863 (full opera: 1890), Berlioz: Les Troyens: I wrote this review of Troyens after watching it in the Châtelet 2003 production in December 2019 (first time ever watching it) and I still stand by just about every word. Such a fascinating opera, great adaptation of the first few books of the Aeneid, marvelous score (of course, it’s Berlioz!)...but could there be a ballet or two fewer, Berlioz? Or at least shorten them up? And that’s coming from someone who likes ballet. But anyway, in every other respect it’s absolutely marvelous. Some people say it’s the greatest French opera ever, and while I hesitate to say that, it comes pretty damn near close.

1865, Meyerbeer: L’Africaine (Vasco de Gama): Vasco da Gama/L’Africaine is even more troubling—much more troubling—of an opera than Vêpres to me and I wrote a whole thing here as to why. I still stand by most of it, although upon reflection, I feel like the ending that drove me so crazy has virtually the exact same idea behind it as the end of Troyens/Book IV of the Aeneid: empire has consequences and those consequences hurt real people, who, though different and not among those perceived as “heroic”, are worthy of being treated as human, not being collateral damage. (I’ve written at least two essays about this for different classes, both specifically in regards to the Aeneid.) It may be time to revisit this one. The score is lovely, after all, although it didn’t stand out to me as much as others by Meyerbeer.

1867, Verdi: Don Carlos: *holds myself back from writing a 10-page essay* y’all, there is a reason that when someone asks me what my favorite opera is, I always choose this one even though I’m horrible at favorites questions. it’s Verdi, grand opéra, romantic drama (SO MUCH romantic drama and SO MUCH gay), political drama, religious/social struggle, personal struggle, social commentary, spectacle, intimacy, masterful characterization all in one. what more could you want? I first saw/heard this opera in Italian long before I did in French, so my brain is more hardwired to hearing the Italian but both are good. my motto is “Italian or French, I don’t care, but Fontainebleau has to be there.” fuck the four-act version. I mean, I will watch four-act versions but five-act versions are just superior. I’d prefer uncut performances (the first part of the garden, the Lacrimosa, the extended opening and ending), but these aren’t dealbreakers for me. it’s the perfect synthesis of Verdi and grand opéra, much less unwieldy than Vêpres (as much I love that one), both musically and dramatically.

1868, Thomas: Hamlet: Part of me wishes this was more faithful to the actual source play (why??? the??? fuck??? does??? Hamlet??? live??? although there are alternate endings), but part of me also realizes that the play is already four hours long as is and singing it plus ballet would make it WAY too fucking long. This does a pretty respectable job. The music is gorgeous, by turns almost sugary-sweet and thrillingly ominous. The Murder of Gonzago scene is an absolute masterpiece. The Mad Scene is justifiably one of opera’s best (although I’m not sure it was a good idea to have that and a frequently-cut 20-minute ballet with no relation whatsoever to the main plot to make up all of Act IV). There are a lot of bops in this one. The four principals are closely followed and still very well-drawn. Both of the stagings I have seen were excellent. An underrated opera.

1869 (grand opéra version), Gounod: Faust: Another of my absolute favorite operas. Since this existed for a decade before its transformation into the grand opéra we all know and love, I won’t comment much about its actual format and adherence to grand opéra tropes aside from saying the Walpurgisnacht ballet is one of grand opéra’s best and extremely good at giving off Vibes TM. I used to hate how the character of Faust was written and thought he was incredibly boring. Not anymore (although of course, I still hate him as a person. fuck him tbh). This opera has a reputation for being saccharine and old-fashioned and I think that’s a bunch of garbage right there. It’s about the search for eternal youth and the expectations of conforming to social values and people’s struggles with themselves when a) they “fall short” and b) when the world ostracizes them for being “different” and “out of line”. I am also firmly convinced that Marguerite is the real protagonist of Faust (like how I’m convinced that Valentine is the protagonist of Les Huguenots if there even is a singular protagonist in that opera but I digress). The music slaps. People need to stop cutting whole scenes out of this. I’m still undecided on the order of the church and square scenes of Act IV. Marguerite and Siébel just need everything good in this world.

Anyway, those are my two cents! I tried to keep these pretty short, so if y’all want any follow-ups, let me know!