#and now i can write these highly specific interactions better now)

[upsidedowngrass]

look, i know cheesy mostly answered that liam would listen to metal 1) because he was put on the spot and 2) likely because its funny to imagine liam ‘literally just some Standard Guy’ plecak as listening to music far more intense than he is, but tbh?? it is so fitting. like yeah, thats abt right for him. i cant even figure out how to explain how/if it coincides w what we see of him but like. its just the truth

[hyperfixingfr]

We joke that Wally is stupid, but in his defense, he isn't truly an idiot. He's pretty average for a kid his age if you can get past his writing and math problems, which are 100% disability related anyways. He's not a nuthead and he clearly has some intellectual aspects that he'll show if he's not too pissed to be smart... Hoagie isn't exactly "occasionally stupid", either, because any of his mischief or "stupidity" is purely done out of the fun of knowing he's doing something wrong, otherwise he genuinely doesn't know because he's a kid, or he genuinely doesn't know because he's autistic (see "I'm right here!" when someone uses "number 1/2" toilet slang, which is an ex of taking too literally). The two pretty much have the same general interaction with the world. It would only make sense that Wally would have to pull on Hoagie's hair sometimes to get him to quiet down or stop doing something that could get them killed, just like he does with Wally in the show, because he's just as impulsive as Wally. Wally is aggressively impulsive while Hoagie is curiously impulsive, but in the long run it tends to get them into the same general problems with others. The reason why one ends up pulling the other's ear each time is because of that whole "opposites attract" thing. The things Hoagie wants to do out of curiosity are the things Wally goes, "woah, don't do that, are you crazy?!" for, and vise versa. I feel like we got so much of Wally having to be pulled out of the store by Hoagie like a dog on a leash that we forgot that it probably happens in the opposite way. Also, they're kids. Impulsively doing stupid shit is the fun of childhood. It's not them who are stupid, it's just the stuff they do. They know better more often than not, they *choose* to go against it. Choosing to go against it is hardly a sign of intelligence. If it was, most of the people we call geniuses are now stupid, apparently. I call them stupid purely for jokes. But let's be real, they're kind of average... For autistic kids at least. Some would say Hoagie is pretty smart for knowing the things he does, but 90% of us are pretty sure that he knows it because he's autistic with a Sp/In and not because "he's smart". If you tried to make him do general history he'd blow raspberries at you and say "I don't care what happened in the past, what does it gotta do with me?". I do believe the two of them become smart, but as children they're just smart in very specific areas that they refuse to leave, and are otherwise mediocre at best. The only reason Hoagie gets credit while Wally doesn't is because his specific area happens to be mechanics, engineering, and aerodynamics, which is highly regarded to be skills of an intellectual. In the grand scheme of things, that is the only thing Hoagie knows (or cares) about. He couldn't care less about anything that can't fit into what he likes. Not an idiot, just an autistic child. Both of them. They become smart when they finally find a way to enjoy all kinds of information despite being about other stuff...

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for using a poem I wrote for my ex-girlfriend to apply for a scholarship?

I'm pretty sure that I'm not TA here, we're still on good terms anyway and it's unlikely she'll ever even find out about this unless I outright tell her, but I'd like to know if I'm committing some grievous social faux pas here.

So. I (21F) met my ex-girlfriend, who we'll call Jolene (22F) online a couple years back. The specifics of how we met will make it immediately obvious to anyone who knows either of us that it's me writing the AITA post, so I'm going to leave those out, but we were friends for a while before she asked me out, and it's relevant that we became friends over writing. We hit it off pretty well for a while, to the point where I wrote a poem being incredibly gay for her despite not (then) being much of a poet at all.

And then I went to visit her in person. Y'see, she'd come to visit me in person the previous winter, and that went fine, barring the fact that I ended up being super overwhelmed by the end of the visit—suffice to say that I'm extremely asexual, and she's extremely not. This came to a head when I went to visit her, she constantly wanted to be hanging out and doing things, and I straight up could not handle that much social interaction with anyone for that long. It got to the point where I was straight up dreading being with her, so I took a step back, examined my feelings, and decided yeah, we'd probably be better off as friends or as queerplatonic partners or something nonromantic.

We're still on fairly good terms, I'd say? Though I still feel extremely awkward over the circumstances of said breakup, she can't change how she is and I can't change how I am, and she's really happy with her new girlfriend so. Hell yeah. We love to see it. (There's also the additional complication that I might be something approaching arospec, but. Y'know. Details.)

Fast forward to today, several months after our breakup. I'm applying for scholarships for my university. I happen to be going for an English major and one of the available scholarships involves submitting up to 5 poems of any length. I remember, abruptly, the poem I wrote for her, go looking in our DMs, and—yep, there it is. Still incredibly gay.

Between that and some haikus about wildlife (long story), that brings my count of poems up to four of the five total allowed. I haven't submitted the application yet, but I've only got four days left to, and I absolutely don't have to submit my extremely gay poem alongside the wildlife haikus, I'm looking at the application right now and it says up to 5 poems of any length, presumably implying that I can have anywhere from 1-5 poems in that document.

But... I really want to. I'm not romantically in love with Mabel anymore, and while our personalities don't mesh super well these days, I still care about her a lot and if this is some giant social faux pas I'm unaware of (I'm unaware of a lot of those, I've never gotten formally diagnosed with anything but I highly doubt I'm remotely neurotypical if that's relevant) and it feels kind of like a way of saluting the relationship that was good while it lasted?

Also, and possibly more relevantly to the scholarship thing, it's a halfway decent poem. Nothing award-winning, but I'll never get any scholarships if I don't try for them, y'know? ...And I kind of really need the scholarships, due to reasons best brought up in an entirely different AITA post involving my mom.

So. Uh. Yeah. I know what I'll be doing regardless, no way this gets a solid judgment before it's time to submit, but I do want to know if it's an AH move or not. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[venus-haze]

Working for the Knife (Mickey Altieri x Reader)

Summary: It’s been over 15 years since the Windsor College murders, not that they had ever been on your radar. That changes when you get hired at a New York marketing firm where you work closely with Mickey Altieri, alleged Ghostface killer whose charges were dropped after a controversial mistrial. Working so closely together piques your interest in each other, soon spiraling out of control. [This is an AU.]

Note: Female reader implied to be mid-20s or older, but no other descriptors are used. This is based on an anonymous request and also Timothy Olyphant being such a DILF, I had to write something like this (I had Justified era Olyphant in mind while writing this, specifically these gifsets, but you can picture whatever hehe). Creative liberties have obviously been taken. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 6.8k

Warnings: True crime elements (the reader engages with a lot of true crime content), but obviously this is a fictional serial killer. Mutual stalking/obsession. Sexually explicit content that includes dubious consent fantasy that involves knifeplay; spanking, daddy kink, oral sex (f. receiving). Do not interact if you’re under 18.

For once, you felt like things were going your way. After a little over three years of scraping by at your old job where you were woefully overworked and underpaid, your months-long job search finally came to an end when a mid-sized marketing firm gave you an offer you couldn’t refuse. Sure, you’d taken a huge pay raise and shifted to a hybrid schedule with your new job, but the highlight was undoubtedly Mickey, the only other person on your small team and the type of sexy older man you sure as hell didn’t mind spending your days in the office with.

With the whole company working hybrid or completely remote, people only came in sporadically, as did you and Mickey, only going in on Tuesdays and Thursdays, with the occasional Friday if needed. As a result, you didn’t get much of a chance to meet anyone else who worked there. 

Your first week was fully in person, since some of the programs you’d be using for the job were easier to learn if he were there to show you. You certainly weren’t complaining, having plenty of time to get a feel for your new coworker, silently observing and testing the waters with light flirting, which he seemed to return. Maybe you were just a little too hopeful.

“Big plans for the weekend?” you asked when five o’clock rolled around on Friday.

“Got a hot date with Netflix,” he said. “How about you?”

“My friend and I are getting drinks later, but that’s about it.”

“What’s your poison?”

“Anything under $10, if I can help it.”

He grinned. “A woman after my own heart. Don’t have too much fun.”

“I’ll try,” you said, smiling as you began packing your laptop into your bag. “Have a good weekend, Mickey.”

“You too.”

With your first week at your new gig down, you headed to a small bar in Flatbush to celebrate with your best friend and dish the highly anticipated dirt on your hot coworker. Lee was already at the bar when you’d arrived, sitting at a small table and sipping a beer she went ahead and bought herself.

“Drinks are on me,” you said. “I fucking owe you.”

Lee grinned. “Always glad to help.”

You wouldn’t have gotten the job without Lee. She helped you fudge your resume to match the experience on the job listing, gently scamming your way into the position you now held. All week you’d been texting her about how great things were going, and fawning over Mickey, of course.

After joking about ordering top-shelf liquor on your dime, Lee settled on a margarita, undoubtedly the first of many for the night. You returned from the bar with your drinks, more than ready to gush about how much better your new job was compared to the hell of your old one. Nothing could bring down your mood.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, they pay you out the ass and you don’t have to worry about health insurance anymore. Great,” Lee said over her margarita. “I wanna hear about your hot DILF coworker. No detail is too small.”

“Lee, oh my god, it’s not even fair how hot he is. Our desks are right next to each other in an L shape, and I feel like such a weirdo for staring at him all the time. He’s been so nice helping me all week, too. Maybe I’m looking too much into it, but sometimes I feel like he’s being a little flirty?”

“Is he married?”

“No ring, and no mention of any family or long-term relationship. I don’t get it, how could Mickey be single?”

“You don’t hear many people going by Mickey anymore,” she said. “Either he’s a mouse or incredibly Irish.”

“I think he’s Italian,” you mused. “Altieri sounds Italian to me.”

Lee’s eyes widened. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Wait, was that offensive?”

“No, just that you’re working with an alleged serial killer.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” you asked, but she was already busy typing away at her phone.

Suddenly, Lee’s phone was shoved in your face, a your hot coworker’s mugshot front and center in an archived New York Times article from October 1998.

SUSPECT ARRESTED IN WINDSOR COLLEGE KILLINGS

Michael ‘Mickey’ Altieri, 21, was arrested early Thursday morning in Windsor, Ohio, as the primary suspect in the Windsor College killings. Among the charges are first degree murder, attempted first degree murder and aggravated assault. Altieri has maintained his innocence and is being held on $1,000,000 bail in Windsor County Jail as he awaits trial. 

The brutal killings that made national headlines were directly inspired by the ‘Ghostface’ murders in Woodsboro, California, two years prior and coincided with the release of STAB, a film based on Woodsboro survivor and reporter Gale Weathers’ book on the murders. Survivor Sidney Prescott was a student at Windsor College and targeted yet again in the latest string of murders. Allegedly, Altieri’s accomplice was Debbie Loomis, mother of one of the two original Ghostface killers, Billy Loomis. Mrs. Loomis was killed in an altercation prior to Altieri’s apprehension by police.

You looked away from her phone screen, feeling like your head was spinning though you weren’t even finished with your first drink. “Well, if he did all that stuff, why isn’t he on death row or something?”

“There was a mistrial. It was a huge thing,” Lee said. “You’ve seriously never heard of it?”

“No. Can you send that to me?” you asked.

“Yeah, I’ll send some podcast episodes and Youtube videos on it, too. You know I’m on that true crime shit.”

It took a few more drinks for you to be able to shake off the thought of your hot older coworker potentially being a serial killer, but the rest of your night with Lee was a lot of fun. She’d been one of your closest friends in college, and the two of you lived together when you first moved to New York. You knew she meant well, but damn, did that news put a damper on things.

You returned to your apartment a little after midnight, kicking off your heels at the door and collapsing on your couch, not bothering to make the short walk to your bedroom. 17 missed texts from Lee, all links to videos and podcasts about Mickey that she recommended.

Among the links Lee had sent you was a nearly hour long Youtube video titled: ‘What Happened at the Windsor College Ghostface Trial? A Deep Dive’. The woman in the thumbnail had a scared expression on her face, her eyes focused on that same mugshot of Mickey you saw in the old New York Times article. 

Pressing on the link in your messages, you had the video come up on your TV instead, slouching back in your seat as it began to play.

‘I know most stuff about the Windsor College murders focus on just that, the murders, but I thought it’d be interesting to go into the trial that followed because it was almost like something out of a movie, but it doesn’t get as much attention as the killings, especially since there have been like two more Ghostface murder sprees since this happened. I’m just presenting facts and my own observations here for educational purposes, and it’s not my intention to imply guilt on anyone who hasn’t been convicted in a court of law. Before we get into it though, I wanna give a huge thank you to BetterHelp for sponsoring today’s video—‘

You rolled your eyes, skipping through the three-minute long sponsorship spiel.

‘So my sources for this video are Gale Weathers’ books Wrongly Accused: The Maureen Prescott Murder, The Woodsboro Murders, and College Terror. I also used James Chase’s book Ghostface on Trial, articles from newspapers and a few like lawyer journals that I was able to find online, and whatever stuff from the trial itself that’s public information. I have it all linked in the description—“

Pausing the video, you pulled up the New York Public Library website and searched for College Terror and Ghostface on Trial. Copies of both were available at the branch near your office, and you wasted no time in putting a hold on the books. 

The next few minutes of the video gave an overview of the murders at Windsor College, which you half-paid attention to. You’d watched Stab 2 in high school, so you felt you were familiar enough with the killings. Thinking back on the movie, though, all of the characters had the same names as their real-life counterparts except for Mickey. Legal reasons, you assumed.

You turned up the volume on your TV as the video finally got into the details of the trial.

‘As soon as Mickey was arrested, theories were all over the news about what had happened and there was a ton of speculation about his guilt. James Chase, a controversial defense attorney from Chicago, took on the case pro-bono, stating in his book Ghostface on Trial that he knew he stood to make more money on a book deal, interviews, and speaking engagements by winning the case than whatever fees he’d get for representing Mickey. The defense focused on discrediting both of the prosecution’s star witnesses early on in the trial, planting seeds of doubt in the jury.

Chase and his team leaned heavily on the fact that three years prior, Sidney Prescott had incorrectly identified Cotton Weary as her mother’s killer when in fact it was Sidney’s former boyfriend Billy Loomis and their mutual friend Stu Macher who had committed that initial murder that led up to the original Woodsboro Ghostface murders. 

Gale Weathers’ testimony was also discounted by the defense on the fact that she was a sensationalistic tabloid journalist who’d admittedly fabricated elements of her best-selling book on the Woodsboro killings. She claimed this was a result of editing and to achieve a better narrative flow. 

The defense also said the deceased Debbie Loomis had more of a reason to go after Sidney and recreate her son’s Ghostface murders as revenge for his death. They pushed the idea that she acted with Sidney’s boyfriend, Derek, and that Mickey ended up getting caught in the crosshairs of what was a gruesome and unfortunate situation. Sidney maintained Derek’s innocence, but the fact that both he and Debbie were killed by gunshot wounds made it likely they were the Ghostface duo this time around.

Former Woodsboro Deputy Dewey Riley, another survivor of both Ghostface killings, was unable to testify because he was in a coma. He later said that because he was incapacitated before Sidney and Gale allegedly confronted Debbie and Mickey, he couldn’t say for sure who the killer or killers were, but he trusted their judgment and stood behind their testimonies. 

It didn’t help either that Sidney was visibly distraught while on the stand and mixed up details of the original Woodsboro murders and the Windsor College ones. Gale was initially confident while being questioned by the defense, but later became combative when the inaccuracies in her books came up. In contrast, Mickey appeared calm and earnest, and seemed to have his story straight every time he took the stand.

There’s actually some footage of the trial that I was able to find, so I’m gonna play that now.’

The video was grainy, camera focused on an agitated-looking Sidney Prescott sitting in the witness stand. On the other side of the stand, a blond man in a gray suit read off from a stack of papers in his hand. 

“Ms. Prescott, in your statement to police, you claimed that Mr. Altieri admitted to both you and Ms. Weathers that he had committed the murders with Debbie Loomis and wanted to get caught. Could you perhaps explain to myself and the jury, why exactly an alleged killer would want to get caught?”

“Because he’s fucking sick in the head!” Sidney exclaimed.

“Language, Ms. Prescott,” Judge Matthews said.

“He said he did it on purpose,” Sidney continued, her voice breaking. “He told us he wanted to get caught so he could blame it on the movies! He had everything planned out, the lawyers he wanted, the angle the media would take, he even quoted that line from Psycho, ‘We all go a little mad sometimes.’”

Chase furrowed his brow as he looked over the papers in his hands. “When did he say this? I’m not seeing that in your statement.”

“He said it right after he shot Randy,“ Sidney said.

“Randy wasn’t shot, he was stabbed.” 

Sidney’s eyes widened. “I know. I meant—“

“Ms. Prescott, is there something you didn’t include in your police statement that you’re telling us now?”

Her voice was barely a whisper. “Billy quoted Psycho, after he shot Randy at Stu Macher’s house, not Mickey. I got mixed up.”

You gasped, bringing your hand to cover your mouth. The courtroom on your screen devolved into nothing short of pandemonium. The video then faded into Gale Weathers in the middle of being questioned by the defense. She, in contrast to Sidney, looked confident and well-put together under Chase’s grilling.

“Ms. Weathers, you wrote in your book that your camera man Kenny was gutted, when in actuality his throat was slashed, is that correct?”

Gale nodded. “It is.”

“Why the inconsistency?” 

“All books, fiction or nonfiction go through an editing process. That was a decision made by my editor to establish a better narrative flow. It isn’t uncommon in the true crime genre by any means.”

“Better narrative flow isn’t the truth, though, is it?” Chase asked.

“Look, a book is a book. I’ll say right now under oath that Kenny was killed when one of those guys in the Ghostface costume slit his throat. I’ll also say under oath that Mickey Altieri did commit those murders with Debbie Loomis, and he confessed it to me and Sidney Prescott.”

“Your honor, this isn’t the only major inconsistency we’ve found in Ms. Weathers’ book on the Woodsboro murders. Yesterday we distributed to the prosecution and now present to the jury at least seventeen of these major inconsistencies.”

“What do you want me to say? I’m the cheesy tabloid journalist everyone thinks I am?”

The corners of Chase’s lips twitched. “Not quite my words.”

“You’re a real piece of work,” Gale scoffed.

The jury murmured among themselves at her shift in attitude. You found yourself chewing on your nail, enraptured by the trial. For the last time, the video faded out and then back in to show Mickey, your coworker, sitting on the witness stand. This time, the prosecutor was in front of him, his annoyed expression a contrast to Mickey’s calm demeanor.

“Mr. Altieri, we have signed affidavits from several of your former classmates that in your film theory class, you claimed in a heated argument with Randy Meeks and CiCi Cooper, both of whom were killed by this ‘Ghostface’ persona of yours—“

“Objection!” Chase shouted. “Claiming the Ghostface persona belongs to Mr. Altieri is an undue presumption of guilt.”

“Sustained,” Judge Matthews said. “I advise you to reconsider your wording going forward, counselor.”

The prosecutor huffed. “You claimed in a heated argument with Randy Meeks and Casey Cooper, both of whom were killed by the ‘Ghostface’ persona, that violent movies were responsible for influencing people to commit acts of violence, is that correct?”

“It was a classroom discussion. Our professor had brought it up because two fellow students were brutally killed at the premier of a slasher movie the night before, by someone dressed as the killer from that same slasher movie. I just thought it wasn’t a coincidence, and neither did half the other students in that class. Are you going to make them testify too?”

“Don’t deflect, Mr. Altieri.”

“I don’t understand how I’m deflecting. You asked me about a conversation I had with my classmates, and I answered.”

The video went back to the commentator, but you had goosebumps raised across your skin. You rewound back to the clip of Mickey’s testimony, staring at his face. Could he be a killer? Only a few days ago, you wouldn’t have even considered it. Now, you were down a rabbit hole that sent your mind reeling.

‘A lot of the prosecution’s evidence was dismissed as circumstantial by the defense. Mickey had alibis for all of the murders, even for the one Sidney claimed to witness him commit, allegedly shooting her boyfriend Derek. The chat room records and emails allegedly linked to Debbie and Mickey didn’t do much to convince the jury of Mickey’s alleged involvement in the murders. The records did positively identify Debbie based on the account’s password hints and her IP address. The other user was more tech savvy, changing IP addresses to make it more difficult to confirm an identity.

In move that was described as ‘sloppy’ and ‘desperate’ by the media following the trial’s conclusion, the prosecution also tried to claim that Mickey being the only other survivor among Sidney’s friends was suspicious and indicated his involvement, but the defense pointed out that Randy Meeks had also been the only other survivor of Sidney’s friend group in the original Woodsboro killings despite a gunshot wound like Mickey had, and later on at Windsor he was a victim. 

Randy Meeks’ murder actually played a huge role in the defense’s strategy. Several Windsor College students saw Mickey elsewhere on campus during Randy’s murder. The final nail in the coffin was when Windsor County police confirmed that DNA in the news van where Randy was murdered was a match for Debbie Loomis. The police retested other evidence, but couldn’t find anything conclusive.

After weeks of questioning and evidence, the jury deliberated for a little over five days before returning to the judge in a deadlock. Judge Matthews declared a mistrial, and less than a year later, a district court dismissed the case on lack of substantial evidence and all charges against Mickey Altieri were dropped. Despite media speculation that he would, Mickey chose not to sue Sidney and Gale for defamation and hasn’t been in the public eye since the controversial trial.’

You stared blankly at your TV screen when the video ended, another one auto-playing a few seconds later. Even after your drinks with Lee, you felt way too sober to even process any of it. For the next few hours, you devoured videos, bookmarked dozens of articles, and sifted through podcast episodes to listen to during work.

The odd case had made its home in the recesses of your mind. You dreamed about him when you finally fell asleep, just before sunrise. Sitting in the downtown Manhattan office, the open floor layout was unusually bright, fluorescent lighting washing the place in an eerie white glow. Mickey walked over to his desk, blood dripping from his fingers, splattering on the carpet in a trail leading right to him. He looked at you, a smile on his face as he brought his upright, bloody index finger to his lips. 

As the weekend flew by, you tried to keep yourself otherwise occupied. It wasn’t good for you to stay fixated on it, and certainly not fair to Mickey. 

Working from home on Monday helped, as you focused on finishing the last of the onboarding process. 

Tuesday was where things became tricky again. You sat on the forty-minute long subway ride to the office equipped with a podcast episode about your new coworker. The hosts didn’t seem to have much new information from what you took in the night before, except for the last few minutes of the episode where they’d gone off-script.

‘Last I saw online, he was living in Manhattan.’

‘Oh my god, that’s so Patrick Bateman-core.’

‘So you think he did it?’

‘It’s tough to say, like I totally get why the jury couldn’t come to a consensus.’

‘Yeah same, messy as hell. I tend to think that he didn’t do it. Innocent until proven guilty, ya know?’

‘I get that. We did try to get in touch with him for some kind of statement or even an interview—‘

‘Wishful thinking.’

‘Yeah, we looked for his email address, but I guess it wasn’t the right one because our message got bounced back, so that was a big fat bust.’

‘He’s like notorious for denying interview requests, anyway. I think he turned down book deals and stuff.’

Enraptured by the conversation, you nearly missed your stop. On the three block walk to your office, you hurriedly opened one of your playlists and put it on shuffle. The last thing you needed was for Mickey to somehow see on your home screen you’d just been listening to a podcast episode about him.

Your head was spinning by the time you got to your desk. He hadn’t arrived yet, and you felt a bit relieved that you had a little more time to psych yourself up. You shouldn’t have even had to do that in the first place, just be normal about your coworker, but if you learned anything over the weekend, even if he wasn’t guilty, he sure as hell wasn’t normal.

The elevator doors opened, and you looked up to see him walk out, waving at you.

“Morning, Y/N, have a good weekend?”

“Pretty good. I’m more broke than when it started, though. How about you?”

“Like I told you, hot date with Netflix,” he said, sitting down. “Thought you were sticking with shitty liquor?”

“I was, but my friend wasn’t. I got the tab, and she got plenty of margaritas.”

“Shit, I oughta get drinks with you sometime if you get all your friends’ tabs.”

You grinned. “Don’t count your luck.”

He chuckled to himself. The two of you worked in near silence for the next three hours, though you found yourself glancing over at him every so often, out of curiosity and also admiration. His graying hair suited him, and you could see the muscles in his arms from his casually rolled up shirt sleeves. 

Soon, though, you found it hard to stay awake, the light from your computer screen adding onto your fatigue. To your horror, you yawned loudly, catching Mickey’s attention.

“You alright? I’m not too boring, am I?”

“No, I just kept waking up last night. I feel like I barely slept.”

“Why don’t we take an early lunch and go get coffee?”

“That sounds great,” you said, grabbing your purse.

There was a deli right up the block, and when you looked at the small pastry case, you decided to order something with your coffee. Mickey placed his order, a hot coffee and a bear claw. With plenty of tables to choose from, you and Mickey sat near the window. 

Your coffee definitely hit the spot, and the sugar from your pastry helped wake you up too.

“How long’s your commute?” Mickey asked.

“About 40 minutes. I live in Brooklyn, kinda between Bushwick and Bed-Stuy.”

“Damn, that’s long. I live on the Upper West Side.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Wow. Before this job, I was barely able to afford to rent on my own.”

“It’s a rent-controlled building. I’m not making a ton after alimony and child support.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

He shrugged, though he looked out the window as he continued speaking. “It was a long time ago. Deanna and me just didn’t see eye-to-eye on a lot of stuff when our son was born. I knew before he even got to kindergarten it was over.”

Unsure of how to respond, you slowly reached across the table, putting your hand over his. “I’m sorry, Mickey, really.”

“You’re a sweet girl,” he said, giving your hand a slight squeeze before releasing it. “They live upstate, so I don’t see them much. I have more time for going to the movies and Mets games.”

“I only go when they’re bad because tickets are cheaper.”

He snickered. “I should take a page outta your book. How about you? Any sports? Or reading? Isn’t true crime pretty popular with young women now?”

Your heart pounded at his question. Innocuous enough. True crime was extremely popular. The paranoid part of you couldn’t help but feel like it was an accusation. Then again, he couldn’t possibly know you’d spent the weekend immersing yourself in it, particularly stuff about him.

“I’m not really interested in that,” you said. “Sometimes my friends and I go to trivia nights at bars. I’m not that good, but it’s fun to just hang out. I have a membership at the MOMA, so I go there a lot. They show movies sometimes, too.”

To your relief, the conversation shifted to just that, and Mickey seemed surprised by some of your opinions on different movies. He told you he’d originally gone to college for film studies, which you already knew, of course. The odd thing was, while you certainly didn’t want him aware of just how much you knew about him, you didn’t feel guilty for it, just that he would be weirded out by it, obviously.

You and Mickey ended up talking about movies for nearly an hour and a half, well over your allotted hour lunch break, but he assured you no one would care that much. Still, the two of you half-ran back to the office, and something bubbled in your chest when he sat down and smiled at you, the wrinkles by his eyes becoming more prominent. 

The rest of the workday went by quickly, and you headed to the library where you’d reserved the two books about the Windsor College murders and trial. By the time you got home, you’d already devoured the first two chapters of Gale Weathers’ book. Glad to be working remotely the following day, you let yourself stay up later than usual to read, getting to the halfway point before you could hardly keep your eyes open.

Weeks turned into months, and you absolutely loved your job, and the pay, but most of all, how the content you consumed and your proximity to Mickey seemed to feed into each other in a vicious cycle that increasingly drowned out the rational part of you that knew what you were doing was weird. 

Still, it wasn’t like you were invading his personal privacy or treating him any different than you did before. All of the information you’d read, listened to, or watched was all public as your running list of books, podcasts, and documentaries on the matter grew. You’d even rewatched the Stab movies and started scrolling through threads and tags related to Mickey and what happened at Windsor College. After all of the personal research you did and how much you’d gotten to know Mickey at work, you couldn’t conclusively say whether or not he did it. 

You tried keeping your obsession lowkey, but your friends seemed to notice how you’d shoehorn it into conversations. Lee had even told you she was afraid she’d created a monster by bringing up Mickey’s past in the first place. If she’d never made her comment or showed you that first article, you probably never would’ve known about it, remaining blissfully unaware and going about your business at your typical office job with your hot older coworker.

For how much time you spent at home between work and researching, it seemed like whenever you’d go out, you’d come home to something missing or moved. Articles of clothing gone, coffee mugs out of place, books not quite in the order you’d left them. At first, you chalked it up to your consuming too much true crime content, feeding into your paranoia, but when you asked your landlord to install another lock on your door, it all seemed to stop. That didn’t bode well with you.

Your fantasies blended with reality in your dreams, as you were having increasing occurrences of Ghostface or Mickey, or both, in them. Whenever you woke up, you didn’t remember much except for a warm feeling in your core. One dream remained vivid even after you awoke, though.

You were in your apartment alone, late at night, when you got a call from an unknown number. Normally, you didn’t pick up calls unless you were expecting them, but for some reason you picked up. The details of the phone call itself were jumbled, but you were frightened, running into your bedroom and locking the door behind you. 

To your horror, you’d locked yourself in with Ghostface, the looming predator who looked at you emotionlessly, stalking toward you with his knife. When you turned around, the door knob was gone, and a black gloved hand grabbed your shoulder, moving you to face him as he pushed you against the door. He sliced through your slinky pajama top, exposing your breasts to him. Roughly groping each of them, he let out a low moan in appreciation before bringing the knife to your collarbone, dragging the blade to the valley between your breasts. Your breath hitched as he pressed it a bit deeper, but instead, you felt it in your pussy, like he was penetrating you.

“Give me a kiss, sweetheart,” your masked assailant ordered in a distorted voice.

Slowly, you leaned in, pressing your lips against the cold, hard plastic mask. You gasped as he dug the knife into your skin with one hand, his other slipping under your panties, pushing his fingers between your folds.

“I own you,” he said, clearly in Mickey’s voice this time.

You threw your head back in ecstasy as he pushed his fingers into your tight cunt, and then your alarm blared, jolting you awake. Turning over, you groaned into your pillow in frustration. At least it ended up being great masturbation material later on.

Another Thursday at work, seemingly uneventful as usual. You and Mickey had gotten into the habit of getting lunch together whenever you both were in the office. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but as time went on, they felt more like dates than just a casual lunch with a coworker. Not that you were complaining.

“Got any plans for the weekend?” he asked in the nearby deli the two of you had begun to frequent.

“No, not really.”

“Do you wanna come over after work tomorrow? Watch a movie or something?” he asked.

“That’d be great!” you said, almost a bit too enthusiastically. “Should I bring anything?”

He shook his head, smiling a bit. “I can order a pizza.”

For some reason, you trusted yourself to be normal at his place, telling yourself throughout Friday that everything would work out fine. Being a weirdo about his alleged murders certainly wouldn’t help you get a real date with him, but your infatuation with him was only growing. You liked the slightest hint of danger about him, going to his apartment alone, wondering in the back of your mind what his true intentions were and feeling a bit of a thrill at the prospect that they could be anything less than innocent.

You showed up at his apartment that evening with a bottle of wine in hand, even though he’d told you not to bring anything. As expected, he thanked you for the wine, though he gave you an exasperated look as he let you into his apartment. Nicer than yours, but it still looked lived-in.

“Pizza will be here in a couple of minutes,” he said. “I’m thinking Mean Streets for the movie.”

“It’s a classic,” you agreed. “I love Harvey Keitel in it.”

“You know, that was De Niro and Scorsese’s first time working together.”

“Wait, why did I think Taxi Driver was first?”

“Came out in ‘76, just after he was in Godfather Part II in ‘74. Busy decade for him.”

“You’re telling me.”

The doorbell rang, the pizza arriving sooner than expected. You waited in the kitchen while Mickey dealt with the delivery.

“We can eat in the living room while we watch,” he said, carrying the pizza box inside. “I don’t have many people over, so it’s still a little messy.”

“That’s okay,” you assured him.

He put on the movie, and you balanced the paper plate on your lap, nodding along to “Be My Baby” as it played during the opening scene. Testing the waters, you scooted closer to him a few minutes into the movie. He glanced over at you, and you could’ve sworn you saw the faintest hint of a smile on his face. 

You were especially pleased when he put his arm around you, not bothering with the pretense of a “move,” but rather taking what he wanted. Settling comfortably next to him, you tried to focus on the movie.

Despite his arm around your shoulders, closer physically to him than you ever had been, you felt restless. You knew when the halfway point of the movie was, and so you excused yourself to use the bathroom, telling him he didn’t need to pause it until you returned.

The tips of your fingers itched as you passed closed doors to the bathroom, which he told you was at the end of the hall. Biting your lip, you considered your options, and in a moment of impulse and weakness, you reached for one of the door handles. A mostly empty extra bedroom, maybe his son’s old room. 

You weren’t deterred, opening another door. Jackpot. Slightly messy, with clothes strewn about the floor and on the dark sheets of his bed. Glancing behind you, you stepped into his room and looked around for anything that stood out. 

Most people hid things under their beds, and so you got down on your hands and knees, wondering where exactly he might hide his—

“Don’t think this is the bathroom,” he said, startling you.

You yelped, frantically turning around as your brain short circuited for an explanation. “I—I was just—“

“Looking for trophies? All serial killers keep them, right?” he asked, towering over you from your spot on the floor. “Mementos of their victims or the kills.”

You shook your head frantically. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have been snooping.”

“No, you shouldn’t have, but you’re looking in the wrong place anyway,” he said, pulling the knife from behind his back.

“Serial killers also don’t—don’t kill people th-they know,” you stammered.

“Typically,” he agreed, “but I’m not typical, am I? I’m sure you’ve listened to plenty of those cute little podcasts where some dumbasses read the Wikipedia page about the Windsor College murders in between hawking security systems to their listeners that they’ve just scared shitless. I admitted I did it, went to fucking trial, and the jury couldn’t even find me guilty.”

“Point taken.”

“So, what trophy would I keep from you?”

You were silent for a moment before answering, looking him in the eye. “My panties.”

“Which pair? Figure I have at least five of them now. Unless you wanna make that six, sweetheart.”

“You’ve been breaking into my place all this time.”

“You made it way too easy. It’s like you were asking for it.”

Maybe you were. Regardless, you didn’t show any resistance when he lightly kicked at your leg, a silent command to stand up. You got to your feet, though your gaze was fixed on the knife in his hand. His eyes followed yours, and he smirked a bit before putting the knife aside.

He turned you around, pushing you back onto his bed. Your breath caught in your throat as he pushed your skirt up, his hand caressing your ass, fingers brushing the thin fabric of your panties.

“Were you asking for it, sweetheart? Have you wanted this all along? Been a bad girl to get my attention?”

“Yes,” you whimpered weakly, your pussy clenching around nothing.

“Y’know, I’ve heard of serial killers having groupies, but you,” he said, slapping your ass for emphasis, eliciting a moan from you, “are something else.”

“Fuck, daddy,” you whispered, fidgeting against his mattress.

“I’m disappointed in you.” Another smack on your ass. “I could’ve been having fun with you months ago.” Smack! You hissed this time, though your pussy was pulsing between your legs. “Bent you over my desk in the office, have my way with you while no one else is around—or maybe a little slut like you would wanna get caught with daddy’s dick buried inside her.”

He spanked you harder this time, holding you down when your body instinctively recoiled at the impact. A pained moan escaped your lips as he pressed his body weight against you, his clothed cock rubbing against your tender skin. Tears welled up in your eyes as the sensation, and you resisted the urge to slip your hand between your legs.

“Or maybe,” he said, reaching around you to wrap his hand around your neck, “you just want me to fuck you before I kill you. Probably cum the minute I put that old Ghostface mask on, huh, baby?”

You let out a strangled moan at his words. “Yes, daddy.”

He released his grip on your throat, standing up to give you one more slap across your ass. “Turn over. If you’re good for me, maybe I’ll give you what you want.”

The friction from his sheets stung against your sore ass as you rolled over to look at him, though he grabbed you, pushing you onto your back himself. His grip on you was tight, fingers digging into your arms as he held you down beneath him, completely at his mercy.

He pulled off your skirt and panties, leaving your pussy exposed for him. He dragged his index finger between your folds, and you whimpered when he brushed your clit.

“God, you’re soaked,” he murmured against your lips. “Was it the spanking, or is it the serial killer thing?”

“Both.”

“Good answer,” he said, lazily circling your clit with his finger. 

He ducked his head down, wasting no time in devouring your wet cunt. His tongue relentlessly flicked at your clit while he slid two fingers inside you, pumping them in and out of your hole. You took them easily, but wondered if it’d be the same for his cock when he’d undoubtedly fuck you. 

Your hands gripped his sheets as he worked his tongue, your feet curling at the tension you felt building up inside of you. He moaned against you, loud enough that it felt like his voice rocked through your body. 

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded breathlessly.

A pained and outraged whine pulled from your throat when he did just that. You looked down at him between your legs, betrayed.

“Why should I let you cum?” he teased, rubbing light circles in your clit with his soaked fingers. “You’ve been a bad girl.”

“Oh fuck,” you moaned. “Please, daddy.”

“You can do better than that, sweetheart.”

“Please let me cum, daddy. I’ll be so good. I—I’ll do anything, just—please,” you cried out in frustration of being so close yet not quite there.

“Only since you asked so nicely,” he relented, dipping his head back down between your legs, his hands holding your hips in place as your lower half began to quiver at his touch.

You could feel his lips move slightly against your sensitive pussy, nothing short of a smug expression on his face at making you fall apart so easily. It didn’t matter, your head was swimming, muscles strained as he brought you closer to climax. Grabbing his hair, you pressed his face closer against your pussy, grinding against it in desperation. 

“Mickey—Fuck—“ you choked out as your orgasm wracked through you, fireworks in between your legs as your body shook. 

He ate you out through your orgasm, and another tidal wave of pleasure hit you all at once, almost painful and overwhelming, your brain on fire at the sensation. You could hardly catch your breath when you released your grip from his hair and he lifted his head, your wetness glistening on his lips.

When he kissed you, you hardly had the strength to kiss him back, though tasting yourself on his mouth sent a rush through you. He pressed sloppy kisses to your face, trailing down to your neck. His hard length rubbed against your slick-coated thigh, a low growl coming from deep in his throat.

“W-Wait, can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” he mumbled against your skin.

“Did you really wanna get caught?”

He stopped, lifting his head from your neck to look at you a few moments before answering, “Yeah, blame the movies, make a real circus of the trial, but my attorney said he didn’t think I could pull off an insanity plea because I was too put together. Obviously pleading guilty and confessing everything wouldn’t get nearly as much attention as actually going on trial. I was pissed at first, but it worked out, I mean I had every reporter eating out of the palm of my hand by day three.”

“Why don’t you do interviews now? Or write a book?”

“What’s there to say? Not the truth.”

“I guess that makes sense,” you muttered. “Are you gonna kill me?”

“Probably should,” he said, the slightest smirk ghosting his lips as his eyes raked over you, “I might need more convincing not to.”

[lastoneout]

New Pinned/Intro Post!

Hi, I'm Loo(or Alex), I'm a disabled queer artist and writer as well as a furry vtuber who streams four days a week on twitch(mostly Minecraft but also Soulsborne games and a variety of other stuff).

You may know me from The Tuna Post, in which several thousand of you came together to "force" me to buy damn near 30 American Dollars worth of imported fancy canned tuna to eat and review live on stream. If you're here for it, said live review can be found on twitch and on my youtube channel. TL;DR: 10/10 would recommend.

I currently can't work, so if you like what I've got going on here and want to help me out, I take donations over on my ko-fi <3 Aside from that, follows on twitch help a lot, even if you never end up watching!

(Also, I sell my twitch emotes as stickers on redbubble!)

I don't have a proper BYF, but as a heads up I'm heavily introverted and have ADHD, and between those and my disabilities eating up my energy I often take a while to respond to messages/tags/reblogs/DMs and sometimes forget entirely. This isn't anything against you, and it's something I'm working on, but just something to keep in mind if you plan on interacting with me a lot.

FAQ:

Do you take commissions?

Not at the moment, but hopefully in the future!

What do you use for art?

Wacom Intuos tablet + Clip Studio Paint on the PC, though these days I mostly use CSP on a Samsung Galaxy Tab s6 since I can use it in bed on my low spoons days.

What do you want to go to school for?

Digital Art and American Sign Language!

You talk about being sick all the time/having health problems, what's wrong with you?

Too many things to list <3 but the most notable ones are chronic migraines, hEDS, and ADHD.

Queer?

I'm ace, bisexual, bigender, and butch. I'm also polyam but currently in a very happy monogamous relationship and don't have plans to change that. My pronouns are she/they, and while I would prefer to not have people use he/him with me you are highly encouraged to use masculine forms of address(sir, guy, dude, king, man, my guy, grandpa, dad, etc.) whenever appropriate. My assigned sex/gender at birth is none of your business.

Who's Yotsuba?

Yotsuba is an adorable little gremlin and the main character of my favorite manga, Yotsuba &!, and you should go read it right now seriously it's amazing go read it go read it GO READ IT-

What's "ask to tag"?

The tumblr equivalent of "author chose not to use archive warnings", I put it on anything that seems like it could use a trigger warning but where no one has specifically asked me to tag for that trigger yet. Things I currently (try to) tag for: flashing lights/eyestrain, insects, suicide, fatphobia/diet culture/disordered eating, my hero academia, gore/body horror, current events, us politics, politics, covid, cats, and anything nsfw goes under nsft.

I can't promise to be 100% consistent with these tho, between the ADHD and the migraines I am very forgetful, so slip ups are bound to happen.

Loo? Like the bathroom??

LOO is short for LastOneOut, I'm american and forgot people call it that, you can write it as Lou or just call me Alex if it makes you feel better.

LookingForLoo?? Like looking for the bathroom??

On websites where LastOneOut is taken I'm LookingForLoo because I'm literally looking for LOO, LastOneOut. I thought it was clever T_T

Sideblogs?

I have a nsfw alt @looafterdark (18+ only I swear to god I keep a loaded gun pointed at the follow list) and a writing inspo blog @last-scrapbook. I also once ran a couple of character ask blogs, though I don't plan on starting them up again, and I was the mod behind @pokeprofshowdown.

Who's Eugene/Ophelia/Sasha?

My ocs from an original story I'm working on. I get brainrot and post about them a lot. You are ALWAYS allowed to ask me about them!

What's your fursona/can I make art of you?

I'm a dog, kinda like a papillion but not really, and yes you may. My ref sheet is here.

Can I repost your funny text posts to twitter/insta/reddit?

Sure, all I ask is that you include the entire post and leave my username visible. You can also tag me if you want, I'm lookingforloo on twitter, insta, and reddit <3

Can I repost your art/writing?

Absolutely not.

Can I plug your art or writing into an AI program?

Absolutely not under any fucking circumstances.

Can I use your art in an amv/fandom board/as a cover for my playlist or fic/ect.?

Depends, DM me first.

Can I write fic/make fanart based on your fics/art/HCs/AUs?

Absolutely <3

Can I write fic/make fanart based on your OCs?

Art yes, fics no.

What's your stance on the discourse?

There is no amount of posting online about contentious topics that could ever match the sheer power of simply going out into your community and finding a project that helps other people that you can dedicate your time and energy to. Also wear a mask, vote(if you can), and listen to marginalized people when they speak about their experiences.

How old are you?

29

[transingthebourgeoisie]

I will never understand why people keep recommending linux mint to people. people keep saying oh it's like windows and like. they are literally just wrong; every time you tell someone Mint is like Windows you are setting them up to spend 20 minutes on Mint and then run into an obstacle and pay for a windows license. no matter what kind of mediocre UI they dress it up with, despite everything, it is a linux distribution and thus, crucially: not windows. It's popular I guess so it's better than hyperspecific micro-distro of the week or, arch, because people keep recommending arch for some unknowable reason.

I'm going to be real here: if you are new to this just use ubuntu. ignore everyone else. if looking at the gnome GUI makes you want to start killing hostages like it does for me, you can just get it packaged with KDE by default and that's a very familiar and intuitive UI to a windows user. it's called Kubuntu they put out their own little thing and everything it's easy. and unlike mint, it's vastly more likely to just, actually work, and be compatible with software. it will be a learning experience; you are switching to a fundamentally different OS, one that still has deep roots in enthusiast preferences and a whole different crop of bizarre decisions that made sense to some guy who thought the GUI would be a passing fad. and that's fine. you had to learn all this for windows too, you just did it when you were like 7. stick with it and it'll make sense quickly even, as unlike windows, Linux is highly transparent in most cases; it will usually tell you what the problem actually is, even if you don't understand how to fix it.

speaking of which: don't be afraid of the terminal. It's daunting, it's initially opaque, and yes, it is entirely possible to horrifically mangle your install with it. You cannot be afraid of it. you don't have to learn every facet of it; frankly I hate the thing and I refuse to accept any distro where it is expected that the user crack open the console to do basic tasks. Ubuntu - or yeah mint I guess - do not require this. 9 times out of 10, you will use the terminal to enter one command that you stole off a tech support forum where the kind of people who use Arch have magically fixed the incredibly specific problem you're having 13 years ago and it still works. I have been using linux semi-regularly (yeah yeah I still have a windows 10 install sue me) for a year now, and barring one particular incident attempting to install GZDoom where it was manifestly my fault, that has been the extent of my interaction with the terminal. I have opened it like 3 times total.

I highly recommend learning what the basic structure of a command is - get a general idea of what it is doing. you don't have to be able to write these things from scratch, but getting just that basic understanding will make your life so much easier. here's a first step for you: if you see 'sudo' in a command, that means the command makes use of admin authority, and will bypass any protections or restrictions on what it is trying to do. scary! it is the effectively same thing as when you click on a program on windows and it throws that shitty little popup window asking if you're *really* sure you want to run the program as admin. not scary; you do that all the time.

linux is more consistently and straightforwardly usable than it has basically ever been; if you are willing to spend a week or so getting used to it, you'll do fine. if you have a spare drive - hell even a USB stick, you can literally boot into Linux straight off USB, it's that easy, - you can dual-boot and still have a windows install to fall back on in case you absolutely positively just need something to work or just cannot get it to run on linux.

[bluedalahorse]

A highly incomplete introduction to AuDHD for YR fans who want to write more Sara Eriksson

Greetings, friends! In my time in the Young Royals fandom, I’ve seen a few people mention they were interested writing Sara but they didn’t know how to approach her neurodivergence, or that they find it intimidating. I figured it might be worth compiling a post where I share both ADHD and autism resources I’ve found helpful, as well as elements of my personal experience I draw on when writing Sara.

This post is by no means exhaustive, and I could probably say a lot more. But I figured I’d get it out there in case it was helpful to anyone else.

Part One: Resources and Such

Yo Samdy Sam is an AuDHD vlogger who talks about her experiences, and I find her video about how autism and ADHD show up together pretty informative. Since Sara is both it’s good to have a grasp on these nuances! Yo Samdy Sam’s other videos are also ones I’d recommend.

I’m autistic, now what? is also a good channel to check out for someone talking about their day to day experiences of autism. Her videos are a little longer, but she focuses often on how things have changed from her childhood to her adulthood, which can be helpful if you’re thinking about Sara at different ages/writing flashbacks/working on fic set in the future/etc.

Chloe Hayden, who stars in another teen drama called Heartbreak High, is both autistic and ADHD, and very fun and positive. She presents quite differently than Sara does—lots more talking and energy—but I think she’s a good example of every neurodivergent person presenting differently. Also, people should watch Heartbreak High and write me some fic where Sara and Quinni meet because I want it.

How to ADHD is mostly geared toward practical life skills when you’ve got ADHD, but it doesn’t neglect the way those interact with emotional well-being. Sara might try some of these strategies while working on her school work and chores, either because an adult recommended she do so or because it’s part of a system she worked out for herself. Also, the videos are perfectly designed for ADHD brains, and i have acquired many ways to self-accommodate by watching them.

Jessie Gender is autistic and does commentary about lots of nerdy things and trans rights. I really liked her video on The Queen’s Gambit where she talks about autistic girls and sex. If you’re planning to write spicer fic about Sara (which people should write more of imo) then Jessie might be a good resource!

Marieke Nijkamp is a multiply disabled author, and one of her disabilities is autism. I still have to get around to reading her novel length books but her short story “Better For All the World” made me cry and is one of my formative sargust mentor texts. I really recommend it if you can get a hold of the anthology The Radical Element. (Although, heads up, the story deals with the Buck v Bell case of 1927, which is difficult subject matter.)

Disability in Kidlit has some great resources on writing autistic characters from a craft perspective. If you’re going to write specifically from Sara’s point of view, or even if you’re not, it’s worth reading this article about the autistic voice in fiction and this article about humanizing autistic characters. Other articles on the site are also great!

I’m going to talk more about my personal experiences under the cut below…

Part 2: My personal experiences & takeaways

Sooooo if you’ve met one AuDHD person, you’ve met one AuDHD person. I can’t really claim to speak for all AuDHD people, and I’ve only recently gotten my diagnosis anyway. That said, a lot of my own personal experience colors how I write Sara. So in the interest of transparency, I’ve gone ahead and listed some of the things I’ve thought about when I write her.

An important note before I get started—this is not, actually, meta or analysis of the show. I’m not trying to tell you want I “really” think is going on with Sara Eriksson, or what the writers intended, or what the show is saying. You may read her differently, and I’m sure your interpretation is just as informed by your own experiences as mine. So please don’t take this as a criticism if your interpretation is different.

What I am explaining here instead are the ways that my personal experiences as an AuDHD person have influenced my perception of Sara, which in turn translates to how I’ve made sense of her storyline and written her in fanfic. None of these are “excuses,” but they are explorations. You can look at it as me examining my own thinking and writing process. I’m also opening up about some of my experiences and being a little bit vulnerable. If you have questions about any of these things below, or you want to know more for your own fic, you are always welcome to message me. I may not be able to get back to you right away but I can help however I am able. There are also some things I might feel more comfortable discussing in depth one-on-one, so direct messages might be better in that case, too.

Anyway, let’s begin…

Polarized strengths and weaknesses: In my own experience as an AuDHD person there are some pretty dramatic contrasts between what I’m good at and what I suck at. I’m in the 99% percentile in some skills and the 2% percentile in others. This adds up to stuff like, I read the Sherlock Holmes stories for the first time when I was eight and Les Misérables when I was eleven, but I cannot drive a car or learn a choreographed dance no matter how hard I try. This is inexplicable to some people because they’re like, omg but you know all these advanced words! Surely if you can’t drive a car, it’s just because you aren’t trying hard enough! Likewise I think it makes sense to write Sara with a spiky profile of her own, and have characters react to that accordingly.

Perceptions of maturity: AuDHD adults aren’t children. AuDHD teenagers aren’t children either. And yet part of ableism is the infantilization of AuDHD people. I don’t have a lot of huge narrative squicks, but this is one of them, and it’s rooted in frustrations I’ve had over people treating me like I’m still a child. I always write Sara as the age she’s intended to be in the fic. If I see fanfic scenes or headcanon scenarios where someone is treating Sara like she’s five, and that’s spun as positive or never questioned, it can make me really upset and it’s an immediate back button. This is something I would recommend writers be on the lookout for if they’re incorporating Sara into a scene. Maybe this one bullet point is spinning a little far into criticism of other folks, but I think if I could communicate one thing to other people writing Sara, this would be it.

Special interests/hyperfixations: The thing about special interests is that autistic people often turn to them to replenish their energy and get their nervous systems back to a state of equilibrium. (For instance, me writing this post right now about my blorbo Sara Eriksson is me engaging with a special interest to put my nervous system in a state of equilibrium and put energy back in my body.) Sara’s time spent with Rousseau isn’t just wonderful because she loves horses, it’s also something that’s probably helping her recharge after a complicated day of navigating social situations at Hillerska. This is why she panics at the thought of losing Rousseau. Now, there’s still issues here in that Rousseau isn’t actually Sara’s horse. And I do think many teenage and adult autistics with low support needs, like Sara, understand that they can’t engage with their special interests all the time. But in order to write and understand Sara, I have to understand that she’s counting on Rousseau and horses more generally as something that helps her self-regulate and stay grounded. (In Heart and Homeland I also added art as one of her hyperfixations, so she often draws to recharge and make sense of things.)

Alexithymia: Alexithymia is essentially a trait people can have where they struggle to read their own emotions. It’s pretty common in autistic people and other neurodivergent folk; I have a mild version of it. For me, tuning into my emotions is a bit like trying to figure out what song is playing on a staticy radio. I might have to wait and “mess with the dial” a bit before I can fully understand what I’m feeling in a given situation. The question “how are you?” is a bit of a nightmare for me sometimes. Because my alexithymia is mild, I usually can figure out what I’m feeling in time, but I still often need extra effort to discern the nuances. I tend to apply this trait to Sara when I write her, mostly because she seems to need to sit with her feelings to understand how they’re affecting her. This is most evident when she’s trying to figure out if she like-likes August, though it comes out in other ways, too. Sara might just need a lot of time to process her emotions. Even when she’s showing her emotions and in them, they might take a lot of time to leave her system, and she might not catch on to how they’re affecting her right away. In Heart and Homeland, part of the reason Sara keeps a diary in the first place is so she can sort through what she’s feeling.

Heightened empathy: There’s an old stereotype that autistic people don’t have any empathy. This is not true, and some autistics even have an excess of empathy. I would argue that Sara (at least the way I interpret and write her) is one of them. This may seem counterintutive to some, as I have seen people argue that she is insufficiently empathetic to Simon and/or Linda. I see it differently, however. In my own experience, having an excess of empathy doesn’t always mean that I come across as loving and sweet to the people in my life. Sometimes it can make it so you’re so full of feelings toward others that you can’t act. I often function clumsily in conflicts, and feel like I’m caught between different parties, especially if it’s a situation where everyone appears to be hurting. It’s enough to make me shut down and not do anything, or even side with the person who to everyone else is obviously wrong. Especially when I was a teenager, the answer about “who to side with” in a conflict wasn’t always clear to me. For instance, in college, I dated a girl who constantly belittled me and many of my friends, and I let her get away with it because I was sensitive to the ways she was genuinely hurting about life. I am not proud of it now, and I did break up with her eventually and made efforts to patch things up with my friends when I could, but it also took me two and a half years to get there. Thanks to life experience and therapy, I am now better at recognizing red flags and overriding my excess empathy to call people out on their shit when they need it. It took me time, though, and I can’t help reading a lot of that into Sara. In a way, I tend to think her hope that August will own up to his actions is born out of heightened empathy for both August and Simon. She pins her hopes on this solution because, in her mind, it meets Simon’s needs because the person who harmed him has come forward and is willing to be held accountable for his actions and it meets August’s needs because he can find relief in owning up to his shit and stop drowning in regret. Now, yes, Sara is absolutely misleading herself and ignoring crucial details of the situation because she’s in love, and she does misread what Simon actually needs in the situation. This is very typically teenage. At the same time, when I write her in fic, I see this as tied to an excess of empathy, and not a lack of it.

Inertia/Executive Functioning Struggles: Building on what was said above… some AuDHD people (like myself) can really struggle with making a plan and getting started on tasks, and the bigger the task, the bigger the struggle. “Tasks” is a word we usually apply to things like doing laundry, so we tend to think of executive functioning as an unemotional thing, but it can also apply to emotional stuff like, say, having a big conversation that needs to be had or breaking up with someone you know you need to. (Like I said above. Two and a half years with that shitty person in college!) In fact, I would say inertia can even make things harder with social/emotional stuff, because math homework is at least consistently math homework, but social/emotional situations can shift and become more complicated over time. At Hillerska, we see Sara get involved in ever-shifting social politics, and it takes things escalating to the field scene for her to take action at the end of S2. (In a more minor example, Sara taking a while to get ready in the parents’ weekend episode, and Linda rushing her out the door, is a great example of Sara being affected by inertia.)

Menstrual ick: Increasing numbers of studies show that people with uteruses who have ADHD, autism, or both are way more likely to have painful periods and PMDD. This is true for me—one of the biggest signs that my period is coming is that I am absolutely convinced everyone hates me. I don’t know how to apply this to Sara directly, but periods are part of life and if you happen to write about her dealing with menstrual nonsense, this might be something to keep in mind.

Sensory issues: A lot of people are aware of sensory issues for neurodivergents, and every neurodivergent experiences sensory issues differently, and not always in ways that are immediately apparent to neurotypicals. For me, I hate vacuums and car horns and bananas, but for my roommate, she hates any lights on after 7 PM and finds chocolate overwhelming. Sara doesn’t mention any particular sensory issues, but presumably she has some and masks her reactions, so uh… make up the ones that make sense to you, I guess. Or, don’t make them up, but maybe read about a bunch of different people’s experiences of sensory issues and work from there. External stuff like being tired, sick, or being on one’s period can heighten sensory issues, so think about vulnerability factors that might increase them for Sara.

Rejection sensitivity: Many people with ADHD feel rejection or criticism from others with a high level of intensity, even as physical pain. (Fun fact: PMS makes my rejection sensitivity even worse!) I don’t know if we see Sara feeling rejection sensitivity onscreen much in YR, but I can’t help but imagine she’s dealt with it in the past, based on the way she says she sometimes feels like the worst person in the world, when she’s talking to August in 2.3. If Sara’s had therapy (which I assume she’s had in some form because she knows breathing exercises) then maybe this is something she’s worked on coping strategies.

Accommodations in school: I don’t actually know how this works in Sweden specifically or at a school like Hillerska, but I’d love to hear how it works! Someone else should weigh in if they know things. But I would not be surprised if Sara has the legal right to certain accommodations in school such as extended time on tests, guided notes, etc. (Not being Swedish myself, I’m not sure what the equivalent to the Americans With Disabilities Act would be in Sweden.) One thing to note here is that Sara would get to decide herself whether she actually uses her accommodations or not. I would say, based on my observations of teenagers, is that some neurodivergent teenagers tend not to use their accommodations so they can avoid sticking out among their peers. This seems like it might be the case for Sara, since she wants to make friends at Hillerska and not stand out. The other thing she might encounter at Hillerska specifically is teachers who don’t want to meet those accommodations because they’re “old school” and, frankly, ableist. Accommodations are something one should take into account when writing Sara’s academic life, though.

Double empathy problem: This is something that the psych community is talking about more lately, and essentially the idea here is that neurotypicals communicate best with other neurotypicals whereas neurodivergents communicate best with other neurodivergents. That doesn’t mean both groups can’t communicate with one another (and even reducing it to two groups is kind of oversimplifying things, because obviously culture and other things impact communication too) but there are different patterns of communication at work here. In my own life, I vibe well with people whose neurotypes are similar to mine—this is exactly why @coruscantrhapsody and I are such iconic roommates. The Double Empathy Problen is theorized to have played a role in stereotypes about autistic people not having any empathy. (PS: I don’t actually think August has undiagnosed ADHD in canon, at least not according to the writers. Still, I think it would be pretty interesting to write him in fanfiction as someone who has a missed childhood diagnosis given the way he struggles with rejection sensitivity, impulsivity, and emotion regulation, and the way that the adderall addiction could be a form of self-medication that has gone awry. For that reason I think it’d be interesting to see a fic where the sargust relationship is viewed through the lens of the double empathy problem. Obviously not in a way where the ADHD excuses August’s harmful behaviors, but you know. An added layer of delicious nuance. Alternately, I know some folks like to headcanon Wille as autistic. Sara really clicking with autistic!Wille when they finally get a chance to talk is something I’d like to see!)

Neurodivergent community: As far as I can tell, Sara doesn’t really have neurodivergent community. This makes me sad, as someone who strongly benefits from friendships with other neurodivergent people. I would like her to have some in someone’s fic, please! Let me know if you write it.

That’s all for now… maybe I’ll add more in a future post.

For any other AuDHDers, do you have any elements of your personal experience that you incorporate into how you interpret or write Sara’s character? Feel free to reblog and add on, if you feel so inclined. (But also, no pressure.) Like I said, every ND person experiences this stuff differently, so someone else may have completely different experiences than me.

[vivicantstudy]

hi girly!! i need your help. i’ve been learning spanish for about a year now, but i feel like i’m not retaining anything. i can say most basic sentences and somewhat hold a conversation, but i struggle with words and the endings like the present tense, past tense, and stuff like that. I was wondering if you have any methods or apps that can help me retain and understand the language a little more?

Helloooo! That’s awesome that you’ve been learning Spanish for a year! It’s totally normal to feel a bit stuck sometimes, especially with verb tenses and endings. Here are some tips that might help:

First, I recommend using simple apps for spaced repetition, like Anki. They’re easy to use and really help with retention. For verb tenses, create charts for verbs (like hablar: hablo, hablas) and practice filling them in regularly. Writing simple sentences or reading aloud can also boost your confidence.

I truly believe that the easiest and fastest way to learn is through immersion. Listen to podcasts, watch shows with Spanish subtitles, and read children’s books or news apps like El País. The more you surround yourself with the language, the better.

HelloTalk is great for chatting with native speakers, so don’t be shy about that and try talking to people more often. Also, create an account on Twitter/X and follow Spanish accounts. Engaging with others by replying to tweets can really help you practice.

To really incorporate Spanish into your life, include it in your hobbies. Change your phone and social media language settings, and try to play games or watch movies in Spanish. This way, you’ll constantly be exposed to the language in different contexts.

Try talking to yourself. You can do this in the mirror or create scenarios in your head. I love Spanish dramas, so I often pretend I’m inside a novel and start talking to myself. It’s actually a lot of fun and helps you see exactly what you don’t know, allowing you to practice the specific words and sentences you need to improve.

Honestly, what might feel the silliest, like talking to yourself, keeping a diary, creating a chatting account, or even reading or watching kids’ books, can actually help you the most. If you’re struggling with the basics, you need to start with the simple stuff. Maybe your mind is too full, making it hard to keep going, so simplifying your approach can really help.

You might also try keeping a diary in Spanish or making collages and journals. Decorate your Spanish notebook (get a real one if you don’t have it; writing helps with absorption). This creative process can make learning feel more personal and engaging.

For more structured learning, try Lingvist or Clozemaster for grammar and vocab. Conjugato is great for practicing verb conjugations, and Busuu lets you interact with native speakers. SpanishDict is also super helpful for checking conjugations and grammar rules.

Start with the present tense, then move on to past tenses like preterite (for completed actions) and imperfect (for ongoing actions). When you feel comfortable, dive into the subjunctive, which is used for wishes and doubts.

I don’t know how you’re learning or the best way for you to do it since everyone is different. But if you haven’t tried immersion yet, I highly recommend it. I also got stuck with Spanish, but after I started immersing myself, I felt like things got better.

Good luck ( ˘ ³˘) ₊˚⊹ᡣ𐭩 I’m glad that my blog has made you comfortable enough to send me a message. If you want something more specific, don’t hesitate to ask me; I might be able to help! I’m not fluent, but as someone who has faced many difficulties, I’ve had to research learning methods that might be useful. ¡Que tengas un gran día, chiquita!

[guhamun]

SHIPPING INFO // answer the following for your muse(s) so people know how shipping works on your blog.

REPOST. don’t reblog.

What’s your OTP for your muse?

I honestly don’t have an OTP fkjdshf in any fandom. But ships I have with mutuals? Those tend to be my OTPs – but usually just with those people if they’re canon muses as I often become attached to people’s specific interpretations rather than who the muse are themselves. This can go into faceclaims too for ocs.

What are you willing to rp when it comes to shipping?

I think it’s easier for me to say what I don’t like when it comes to shipping. Highly toxic stuff is a big no for me personally since it makes me super uncomfortable and I feel bad writing it as a result of this, but other than that, everything is free game I guess??? I also don’t like Aged up muses like individuals who were like 13 or something aged up to 18 for shipping for a verse as that can stay 10000 feet away from me. So come at me with that and get a flat no and a block. I used to see this a while back in certain fandoms so maybe things are better nowadays....maybe.......

How large does the age gap have to be to make it uncomfortable?

For immortal muses or muses with very, very long lives, this tends to be free game since as long as both them and the other individual share the same mental / physical maturity and they're adults then we’re good to go. For outside of this, five years is my max and anything above that is too much for me. This is different if both muses are older adults, though, as 40 and 45 become quite inconsequential.

Are you selective when shipping?

VERY. It’s one of the reasons why it can take some time for me to ship with someone in the romantic sense as I need to get to know the mun through ooc communication on the dash or through tags or something. I need to get a feel for those vibes. Since I don’t go into interactions looking for this, that also makes it take some time to actually get to that point. It’s rare for me to go outside of the slow burn period unless I know someone and we’ve talked a lot / discussed things.

How far do steamy moments have to go before they're considered nsfw?

For me, the moment a lot of touching starts to get involved is my cue that things are more than likely going to get pretty spicy from there and to get ready to slap that readmore / nsfw tag on there.

What are other muses you ship your muse with?

-Vague hand gestures-

Does one have to ask to ship with you?

You can most certainly! Just don’t bring it up when we first start interacting because it’ll make me annoyed and that ship more than likely won’t ever happen. As someone who has been used before for having a specific muse for part of a ship, I’ll think that’s the only reason for the interest. Now, if we’re interacting and you see chemistry over time, then you can let me know. That’ll give me an idea of where the interest is, and then from there, if I’m feeling that chemistry too, I can send in those shippy memes without feeling like a weenie. 😭

How often do you like to ship?

I do like shipping, but not too often. Normally when I have a few ships, my interest in it tends to dwindle down into the aether. The type of muses I pick up doesn’t help either as they are often uninterested in romance from the first and or it takes 10 years to get a single doki out of them. Oh to have a muse that is easy to ship...

Are you ship obsessed or ship more-or-less?

I like shipping, but I’m very chill about it overall (until we actually start shipping---).

Are you multiship?

Yesss very much so. For some muses, though, that might be few-ship.

What is your favorite ship in your current fandom?

As I said, I don’t tend to be interested in ships much even with fandoms. However, I am fond of Ningguang and Beidou in Genshin. For Honkai, Bronya and Seele, and Natasha and Serval (I say that as if I have Honkai muses on here---). I like these in very specific ways and don’t tend to be fond of how fandom explores a lot of ships in general because I'm weird I guess FJHSJKFFS.

Finally, how does one ship with you?

Just interact! Really, that’s it! Don’t approach me with intent on shipping first time we interact and just let it happen. Talk to me too! I like having some kind of connection with whoever I’m shipping with or it feels like I’m in an echo chamber. That’s about all I can say in regards to all this! ^ O ^ )9

[mail-forwarding]

(Sunrise Christmas — Ded's dialogue if MC's yet to meet him)

"Ho ho ho! I am Ded Moroz, headmaster of the Santa School. Thought you may know me better as Santa Claus." "And I know all about you! I know every child on the nice list, MC."

I don't often take choice-dependent dialogue into consideration, because the MC in those mini-scenes tend to be characterized by player choice and not by baseline canon, and thus the reactions by other characters tend to shift away from that baseline.

Dialogue options for meeting a new character or greeting a returning one are somewhat different, because while they may say nothing about MC, they often do provide information about the characters or the world.

This particular line, however, I found highly interesting because of what it says about MC, regardless of whether LW intended for such a reading. This implies that no matter what sort of MC you are given the choice to play (agreeable, irritable, insatiable), fundamentally, MC represents good. Even their relentless "harassment" (put in quotes because it's 50/50 whether the characters are receptive, and dubious what the motivation even is for writing a canonical God of Sex Appeal as a sex pest) is not enough to detract from that goodness; one could, if one squinted, possibly make the argument that this behaviour is positive for other characters, perhaps because it is flattering to be wanted by someone as desirable and/or widely desired as MC.

I mean, of course this plays into the whole Lovable Sex Maniac and/or Jerk with Heart of Gold trope(s); of course the protagonist of a game like this would be classified as good. Of course all relationships MC can have with other characters are understood as a vehicle for those characters to grow and change for the better, regardless of how they actually interact. I'd say this is actually pretty typical for the genre since FEH and FGO do this too.

But what this line also implies (which I don't think LW intended to do) is that those two other MCs —the grumpy and the insatiable, who are mostly* optional, because their dialogue lines must be selected and the results are not usually acknowledged in subsequent scenes— must now be explicitly understood as still different aspects of the core MC, even if they're mostly* non-canonical. It's not that MC is good despite the dubiousness. The canonical MC, after all, goes so far beyond simply good. The way the text treats MC, even when they're being dubious, they are still being good.

*I call a trait/portrayal non-canon if it has to be specifically chosen by the player and makes no appearance if that option is not chosen.

Outside some select scenes, horny MC is usually non-canon. There are a few instances where the game forces you to be thirsty (though IIRC, those instances are not explicitly horny, and most are not implicitly so either), and I think a couple characters call MC out for their problematic behaviour in a way that alludes to promiscuity or sexual availability. But since nothing in the rest of the game addresses this in any way, unlike their noted tendency to be a problem child (because they keep getting caught up in bullshit, sometimes that they themself instigated), I tend to read this as MC being a "regular" "person" during puberty, who at least experiences aesthetic attraction, and may have said some things regardless of whether they've engaged in any such relations/acts.

Same goes for mean options: there is actual explicit textual evidence of MC being mean/insensitive/impatient/irritable, and quite of a lot of it at that, but this is portrayed as exceptions to MC's general temperament.

[sophieakatz]

Thursday Thoughts: This Is Our Wizardry

Diane Duane’s Young Wizards books meant a lot to me as a kid, and they still do. I’m rereading the series again for the first time in years (specifically the New Millennial Edition ebooks, which I highly respect Duane for creating). While writing this blog post, I’m halfway through the third book, High Wizardry, and I’ve realized that while I have changed in many ways over the years, my childhood self and my current almost-thirty-year-old self have one thing in common: we both think that this is the best book in the series.

That’s not to say that I don’t like the other books. But there’s something about the third book – the one with the computers, the one about the little sister, the one where they go to space for the first time – captured me like none other.

But why? Is it because Nita puts on a WALL-E t-shirt in the first chapter? I do love that detail – if you’ve ever interacted with me at all then you’ll know I love WALL-E with all my heart – but it’s more than just that.

Is it because I, too, am a younger sister and a too-bright-too-early bookworm, and so I related well to Dairine Callahan? It’s certainly part of it. I can be just as territorial as Dairine, and god knows I’m just as nerdy (if I could tell Dairine that I was a writer for the Galactic Starcruiser…!). However, my bookishness is much more Nita’s love of words and escaping into a story than it is Dairine’s desire to know so much that the world can never hurt you.

Is it because the Doctor shows up in this book? Nah, I didn’t know what Doctor Who was yet when I read this book as a kid. But, again, I do love that detail. Diane Duane really is one of us.

What truly grabbed me about this book is the idea that is first put into words in this book – an idea that is central to the worldbuilding in this series.

When the Powers offer wizardry to you, it is because there is a problem in the world that you are the perfect person to solve. You will need help to solve the problem, and you will receive that help. But the point is that the world needs you, as you are, here and now. You don’t need to be someone else. The world needs you – your mind, your heart, the decisions that you will make. All you need to do want to help, and to say yes when the call comes.

And this is true of all wizards, all the people who serve life and slow entropy. This isn’t a “chosen one” situation. Dairine isn’t “more” important than anyone else. Nor is Nita, nor Kit. But their importance is undeniable. This resonates with me as strongly now as it did then. I never wanted to be THE chosen one as a kid. I never thought that I was more important than anyone, and to this day, I hate the idea of someone else, anyone else, thinking that I see myself as superior to them. But even when I was little, I wanted to know that I mattered. I wanted to know that I was special and important in the same way that all people who do good in the world are special and important.

As an adult, I have learned the power of being willing and able to be the right person in the right place at the right time. I know I can make the world better for the people around me with my writing, with my thoughtfulness, or even just with my smile. I believe, more strongly now than ever before, that anyone who wants to can do the same. It’s a power we are all given, if only we choose to accept it. This is our wizardry.

[bluehouryoongi]

BITE ME- 2: The Party

Pairing: Jake x Female Reader

Genre: Vampire Enhypen and Human Reader College Strangers to Friends to Lovers!AU

Synopsis: Set in present-day Pacific Northwest US. Y/n in a college student, and keeps to herself. One day, she has strange encounters with two statuesque men, one of which invites her to a party (at their mansion ofc) where she drunkenly confesses that she can't pay her rent. Vast and highly believable events ensue, leading to her live with 7 a-little-too-perfect guys. That's all you need to know.

← Masterlist – Next→

When I walk in the door of my apartment I see that mail has been dropped off. On the top is an envelope that reads *URGENT RENT NOTICE* Shit. It’s due again already? There’s no way I have enough. With all of my classes, I barely have time to pick up shifts at the bookstore. I do as much as I can, but clearly it is not enough. I wouldn’t have this problem if I could have a few roommates…I haven’t been able to find any that would work, though. Everytime I meet up with someone, it is clear that their definition of sharing chores and keeping the apartment in order are VERY different from mine. Do I have a problem? maybe…slightly…I just like to keep things clean. When they are not clean I get panicked, and start sweating and breathing heavily. I know I should just suck it up and get roommates no matter what state they keep their rooms in. The alternative is having to go and live back at home…which is hours away. Not exactly a daily commute distance. I sigh heavily, because this is the last thing I need to be worrying about right now. The semester is ramping up, and my classes are keeping me extremely busy. I hardly have time to eat.

My mind shifts to the party I agreed to go to tomorrow. Now, I am considering that it’s not such a good idea. What was I thinking? I don’t have time to go to parties, I have papers to write! Something about Jake though… it draws me in. Sunoo, too. Even after the short interactions we had I am intrigued and want to know more. They have eyes that make me forget who I am, and what I was thinking. I shake away the thought. I will just reevaluate tomorrow. Right now, I have two papers due that require all of my attention.

Before that, though, I need to spill all of this to Gracie. She knows better than anyone that I rarely have information to gossip about boys. I pull up her contact and hit facetime. She answers immediately.

“Hiiii” She says

“Hi. So. Super weird day.”

“Oh? Tell me more. Did a goose chase you to your car again?”

She will never let me live that down. “No, actually. This has to do with the statues.”

“SPILL!” She practically yells

“Okay, okay… so I ran into Jake today. Like actually rammed into him because I wasn’t looking in front of me because of the rain. Then he gave me his umbrella. Before you ask, yes, he is perfect up close”

She squeals. I’m smiling, too, because this is the most excitement I have had all semester. “Then at work Sunoo comes in and just like, lounges up against the front desk. He doesn’t even look around the store, he just kinda…stared at me? I don’t know. Then he invited me to a party that’s happening at their house tomorrow, and for some reason I said I would go.”

“Oh. My. God.”

“I know.”

“This is insane!!!! Wait, do you think he knows who you are? Do you think he planned to invite you specifically and that’s why he came into the store? What will you wear?!”

For the next hour we go over the interactions multiple times. If there's one thing we are gonna do, it’s overanalyze. I hang up the phone feeling winded from laughing so much. I am actually looking forward to tomorrow now, just thinking about relaying the entire experience back to her the next day. Once I have settled down I realize it is almost midnight and I need to get to homework.

I sit at my desk, put on my classical music playlist, and get to work. Hours later as I lay in bed, I think about my interactions with the two mysterious boys. Why can’t I shake the feeling that I want to know them more? –

I am looking at my closet and quickly realize I have nothing that works to go to this party. Judging by Sunoos clothes yesterday, which was (likely luxury) black straight leg pants, a tastefully oversized sweater, and a long jacket over the top, I can imagine his party outfit will be just as impressive. I try to remember what Jake was wearing and my memory falls short. I was so focused on the fact that he was actually in front of me that I did not take the time to assess his fashion choices. I smile to myself, thinking about the umbrella he gave me. Chivalry is not dead, I guess.

Okay, back to business. I rifle through my closet, and end up deciding to try and replicate what Sunoo wore. Is that weird? I mean, my version looks very different. I end up choosing a pair of straight leg black pants, a dark red corset-style top (something in me decided to buy it months ago and I have never had an opportunity to wear it out), and of course I throw on a chunky knit cardigan on top. Because I may be going to a party, but I am still me.

I opt to keep my hair as-is, mostly because I don’t know how to do anything else. It’s getting longer, probably the longest it's been since high school, hitting just past my shoulders. For makeup, I do a simple winged eyeliner, with lots of blush on my cheeks. Looking at my reflection, I think damn, okay. I did that.

I decide to just wear my sneakers, because I'm not like other girls.

In reality, it is just all I have and I doubt anyone will look at my feet at a party. I check the time, my phone reading 8:36pm. I take a deep breath, grab my purse, and head out the door.

The drive takes about 15 minutes; their house is a little out of the way. I don’t know what to expect as I turn onto a long driveway. I have heard people talk at school, saying that the boys live in a mansion or a castle. I never thought that would be literally true until it is right in front of me.

Wow. This place is massive. I don’t find myself around mansions…ever, actually so I can’t really judge. All I know is the expansive modern/minimalist house is very large, and very nice. Warm lighting spills from inside, and I can’t help but think about how inviting it looks. Something about the persona and reputation of the boys had me expecting it to look cold and dark, but I am quickly realizing I might be reading too many gothic novels.

I find a place to park and take a deep breath. This is WAY outside of my comfort zone. I don’t have many friends, which is how I like it. College people are a lot of work. My mom tells me I'm an old soul because I spend my weekends at a book club with women 50 years and older. It is just easier that way. There is no drama, no misunderstanding, and no unrealistic expectations.

Something about Sunoo made me want to do what he said. Not in a demanding sort of way, just in that something about our personalities just clicked. I think I might have a chance of making a friend my age after all.

–

I can hear the noise of lots of people inside. I am thoroughly intimidated, but I am already here so, fuck it. I open the front door- because I won’t be the person who knocks at a party. I have some sense. I walk in, squeezing past crowds of people. Loud music blares, although I don’t know from where. There must be speakers all throughout this house with how much it is projecting.

A makeshift dance floor has formed, with a few too many people grinding than I want to make eye contact with. As I try and make a beeline out of that area, I feel myself trip on someone's foot. Great. Before I can fully flail and make a fool of myself, I feel arms grab a hold of my wrists and steady me.

I look up and make eye contact with my savior. I am met with deeply brown eyes, long eyelashes, an absurdly chiseled jawline, and tastefully thick eyebrows.

“You okay?” I read his lips, but I can’t hear him over the loud music.

I nod my head in response, and realize I am just as much clutching to his wrists as he is mine. To be honest, I have no idea how much time passes as we stand there, holding wrists and looking into each other's eyes like we are in some romance movie.

Our contact is broken, but only for him to lightly grab hold of my shoulders and bring me closer to him. So close that I no longer can see his face and only feel his breathe on my ear as he says:

“That was definitely my foot you tripped on. I’m sorry.”

I shift so that it is my mouth almost touching his ear in order to respond by saying:

“It could have been anyone. We are packed like sardines in here and I wasn’t exactly paying attention to whose feet were where.” I smile, which I know he can feel because I can see goosebumps form on his porcelain neck.

I lean back, so we are facing each other again. This much eye contact would normally make me squirm, but I am surprisingly keeping my cool. Although I have never met him, I recognize as being one of the guys who lives here. There is perfection about him that can be only described as ethereal. Like a statue.

Okay. Let me not gawk at him.

I clear my throat and look around me. Trying to not make it obvious that I don’t know where to take this conversation.

When I look back at him, there is a ghost of a smile on his lips.

He leans in again, his scent invading my headspace. It's all woody and masculine, but not heavy on the cologne. I can’t help but swoon a little bit.

“I’m Sunghoon,” he says. “And you look like you could use a drink.”

“Yes.” I reply. “I’m y/n.”

The smile, or maybe I should say half smile, stays. I can’t help but notice it falters for just a half second, though.

He grabs a hold of my hand and starts leading me through the crowd before I can overthink that split change in expression. At least I don’t have to worry about tripping over anyone’s toes, the crowd parts for Sunghoon effortlessly. We approach a bar- yes an actual bar. In the house. Money never ceases to amaze me.

Manning the booth is a tall, dark haired, (almost equally to Sunghoon) chiseled individual. I notice there is more of a point to his face, and his expression stays hard. When Sunghoon approaches, he nods in silent recognition. His eyes shift to me, and there lies a question in his eyes. No doubt wondering who I am, and why I am glued to Sunghoon’s side. I am not intentionally staying so close, it just so happens that it's hard to keep a distance when there are so many people packed in a room. Not that I’m complaining. There’s a safety I can’t explain standing with him.

Sunghoon walks behind the bar like he owns the place. Which, I guess he kind of does.

They each have an energy about them that is so magnetizing I just can’t seem to pull away, nor do I want to. He looks over to me, grinning, and I melt. I am no better than the gossiping girls who fawn over the elusive statue boys. He hands me a reddish pink drink in a glass. I look around to the others around me. Everyone else is holding red solo cups, which is what I expected as well. But no, I have an ice- cold crystal glass in my hands. I almost hold it with both hands just to be cautious. I take a small sip to find a very strong vodka cranberry. I don’t drink often, so I know I will have to nurse this one drink all night in order to not regret all my choices.

Sunghoon rejoins me at my side, holding an identical glass. A comfortable silence surrounds the two of us as we stand on the outskirts of the thick crowd of partiers.

“y/n.” I can feel his breath on my ear, shivers running through my body.

“Hm?” I reply, turning to face him again.

“You’ve never come to our parties before.” It’s not a question.

“No, I haven’t. How did you know?”

“You are clearly not comfortable here. Plus I would have known.” He doesn’t elaborate just how he would have known.

“Hm.” I say again. Why do I keep humming? My mind is swimming with thoughts and completely blank simultaneously.

Just before he can say another word, I feel someone grab both my shoulders.

“You came!!” Sunoo. I take a relaxed breath.

“Hi!” I say and turn to face him.

He wraps me in a hug. I’m a little stiff, as I would not have expected this level of affection, however I lean into it. It’s nice.

“I didn’t think you would actually show. You look hot by the way. All the right choices.” I feel triumphant.

“Thank you,” I say with a smile. I don’t know when we became such good friends, but I am not mad about it. I haven’t felt this kind of friendship in…years.

“Do you dance?” he asks, “Please come dance”

How could I say no? With the twinkle in his eye, I could never.

“Sure, yeah, let's do it!”

I feel additionally much more open to the idea of dancing with Sunoo after that strong ass drink Sunghoon gave me. Why on earth wouldn’t I want to dance?

Kesha is blaring through the speakers, and I yell to Sunoo who has started to drag me out to the middle of the dancefloor, “This is my shit!!”

Was it? Who cares, I felt free, and you bet your ass I was about to jump around to “blow” by Kesha.

Before I can think deeply of it, I look back to Sunghoon. He is leaning against the wall, watching. His glass is empty now, that same light grin on his lips. His lips. They look so good. Should I tell him? I definitely drank too much of my Vodka cranberry in an effort to do something with myself while just standing there next to Sunghoon. It was the party equivalent to twiddling my thumbs.

Before I could finish that thought about whether or not I should tell Sunghoon just how good he looks (which I definitely should not), Sunoo and I are jumping around on the dance floor. I don’t know what comes over me, and yet I am moving my body in ways I never have before.

I feel Sunoo’s body tight next to mine, jumping and shaking and laughing. I haven’t had this much fun…ever.

We are holding hands, singing in each other's faces, and thoroughly getting into it. When I can feel my hair sticking to my face from sweat, I know it's time I find some water.

I mouth “water!” to Sunoo, who nods in agreement and takes my hand. We walk back to the bar, laughing and singing the current song. The guy behind the bar, (was he this handsome before, or did he get handsome-er?) shakes his head, clearly this not being the first time he’s seen Sunoo like this.

“Water please, Jay!!” Sunoo yells. Jay. So that’s his name. “Make it ICY!”

Jay hands us our waters, this time in red cups, and adds “ICE water, your majesty” and adds in a little bow, clearly joking. So he’s funny. I like him.

Right now, I like everything. Why don’t I drink more often?

Sunoo leads me to a quiet corner. I think it's a separate room, or maybe a hallway. I don’t know. Things are fuzzy.

I sink to the floor, to which Sunoo follows suit.

“Your house…is massive.” I say. No shit.

He laughs. “Yeah. Too big for its own good.”

I just smile. “I'm jealous” I say, getting far too close to his face.

He looks at me, more serious this time. “Where are you living, anyway?”

“Hmm…like 15 minutes from here? Close to campus. It’s a tiny apartment. Not for long, though”

“You’re moving?” I think I see a look of concern on his face, but it’s gone faster than it came.

“Maybe? I might be forced to. I got another letter today telling me to pay my rent, in Big. Bold. Letters.” Why am I saying all this? Why can’t I stop? Oh god, I am going to say more. “The problem is…I don’t have the money” I’m slurring some of my words.

“You can’t pay your rent?” Now he definitely sounds concerned.

Oh no, I can’t have him feeling bad for me. Not when we just met and now I am trauma dumping on him.

“Well, no, not technically. I just need to get some roommates? The problem is… I can’t find…any…they are all so dirty and so much drama. I can’t do it. I would rather move back home.”

“Where is home?” He asks, so gently.

“About…6 hours away? Give or take?” I don’t know how I would be able to stay in school if I had to move back home. My dream has always been to come to college, and I can feel it slipping away. My eyes start to pool.

I cannot cry to Sunoo right now. Before I can get up and pretend this conversation ever happened, he says, “We have lots of extra rooms.”

I’m confused. Is he just saying that to flaunt how big their house is? He doesn’t seem like the type, but I don’t know him, not really. I don’t say anything.

“I could talk to the boys.” He says, as if this clarifies anything.

Because I am drunk, and filter be damned, I reply, “I’m sorry…what? What are you saying?”

He chuckles. “You could stay in one of our rooms. We have plenty, many more than we could ever need. I’ll talk to the boys.”

This is insane. “No…no, I could never ask you to do that. I hope you don’t think I- I didn’t say all that just for you to offer…i’m fine.” my response comes out choppy and I am moving my hands around far too much, but I can’t help it. I could never accept something like this. Especially not from him, who I literally just met.

“Shhhh. I’m not saying they will say yes. I’m just saying I'll ask them. Okay?”

And because I literally cannot say no to this man (seriously is he magic or something?) I just nod slowly, and then weakly say “okay.”

He smiles, satisfied, and stands up. Clearly he has not drunk as much as me, or just has a higher tolerance. I, however, get up slowly using the wall the whole way up to stabilize. My head is spinning. It’s about time I call it a night. I follow Sunoo back into the party chaos.

“I think…I need to go home.” I tell him.

“Okay, did you drive here? You definitely cannot drive home.” Shit. I forgot.

“Um…yeah I did. Maybe I could Uber?” I should never have drank. I’m supposed to be saving money, not spending it on an Uber ride home from a party. I needed to loosen up, though, and I somehow can’t feel bad for all the fun I had tonight.

“Wait here…I’ll be right back.” He says and disappears into the crowd. How does he move so quickly? I swear he just disappeared in front of my eyes. Wow, I’m a lightweight. Noted.

I lean up against the wall, just watching the crowd. I have no idea where Sunoo went off to, but I don’t have it in me to think deeply about it. I lightly shut my eyes when I feel the presence of someone right in front of me. Sunoo’s back, and he brought someone.

“You know Jake, right?” He asks me. This wakes me right up, and I straighten up and clear my throat. I think I even attempt to fix my hair.

“Um…yeah. I think…I’ve met him before…” Or literally yesterday. Or took a class with him last semester. Or have seen him around and watched him from afar a few too many times. None of these things I say.

“Hi,” he says, doing a little wave. Wow, he's cute.

“Hi” I say, and smile lightly.

“Jake is going to drive you home. Okay? He hasn’t drank tonight. I was going to ask Hoon but he’s already four drinks deep.” Is Sunoo my guardian angel or something? He’s being so kind, and I don’t know why. I appreciate it, but it's unexpected with the cold exterior all of the statue boys have. It’s a nice surprise.

“Oh…that’s okay! I can just order an Uber or something! Really, don’t worry about it.” I reply.

“I don’t mind.” Jake replies. He doesn’t sound annoyed, which is good. I don’t have the energy to argue any more about it, so I reply,

“Thank you, really. I’ll repay you somehow” I’m not sure how, but surely there’s something I can do for him.

He just grins and turns, expecting me to follow, which I do. We weave through bodies to go into another unknown hallway. The sounds of the party are distant now, but we still don’t say anything. He opens a door, leading to a garage. We are met with a long row of cars, all of which look brand new and expensive. Jake walks over to a small black Porsche and opens the passenger side door, gesturing for me to get in, which I do.

“Thanks.” I say. The car smells amazing. I can’t quite place it but it's my kryptonite…clean. It sounds weird, but something being clean is quite possibly the best thing ever to me. I close my eyes and take a deep breath in. Jake gets into the driver's seat. I try not to stare but…he’s wearing a black t-shirt, and it fits in all the right places. He isn’t exactly bulky, but it's clear he is strong. Veins gently protrude from his arm, running down to his hands. Okay, I’m definitely staring. The man is beautiful, with skin that looks like glass. How is that even possible?

I look up to his face, where he is staring at me. He noticed me checking him out. Yikes, I will lie awake thinking about that fact later. He doesn’t look disgusted, though. He actually looks almost…amused? I’m reminded by the fact that he is ogled by every other girl at the University. This is not a rare occurrence for him, and he probably expects no less.

I look away, suddenly finding my hands very interesting. He turns on the car, and looks behind him as he backs the car out of the garage. Thank god for the radio, which breaks the silence. As we settle into the drive, I try to focus on the music rather than the very beautiful and large man next to me.

He clears his throat. “Uh, what’s your address?” he asks. Oh right, of course he wouldn’t just know where I live. I tell him, and he nods his head like he knows where he’s going. He doesn’t plug it into maps. Confident.

“Are you taking any other literature courses this semester?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“What?” Oh my god, does he not remember that we took a class together?

It’s okay, it’s fine. Let’s be confident. No going back, now. “We took the same Romanticism Literature class last semester. You might not have seen me… I only talked a few times…” Or every class. I was one of those people who would raise my hand when no one else would, which just happened to be just about every class. Other than when Jake chimed in.

“Oh yeah, I remember you. No actually, I’m not taking any literature courses. I wanted to, it just didn’t really fit with my schedule.”

“I hate when that happens” I reply.

“What about you?” He asks

“Oh, yeah I am taking a few. I am an English Lit major so it’s kind of required”

He chuckles lightly at this, which makes me feel like I won the lottery. I steal a look over to him to see if I can catch a glimpse of his smile. It’s gone before I could, back to the ever-stoic Jake.

We fall into another silence, though this time much more comfortable. Before I know it, we pull into the parking lot of my apartment complex. It just now occurs to me that we simply left my car back at their house.

“Thank you so much, really. I appreciate it a lot. I don’t drink much, so I guess I didn’t realize I’m that much of a lightweight.”

He shakes his head, “no problem, glad you got home safe.”

“Should I…come pick up my car tomorrow?” This is awkward.

“Will you be on campus tomorrow?” he asks.

“Yeah, I was planning on being in the library for a while, why?”

“I can just meet you on campus and drive you back to my place. From there you can take your car.” Wow, how are they all so generous?

“That’s perfect. Thank you so much, I’m sorry to put so much trouble on you”

He looks right into my eyes, and I would lie if I pretended my heart didn’t squeeze at his brown eyes. “It's no trouble. I'll find you tomorrow.”

“Great.” I reply. I unbuckle and start to get out of the car, but he grabs my wrist. I turn to face him again, but he says first;

“Drink some water, and take some medicine. You’ll thank me tomorrow.” His eyes are so kind, I could look into them forever. I almost just do, but then I remember this is reality and not my dream world. So I just smile, tight-lipped, and get out of the car.

The cool air is a nice change, as I notice how warm my cheeks got in Jake’s presence. It might be the alcohol, right?

[bunji-enthusiast]

hii!! can i request some headcanon of Nanashi with a fem! s/o? I love your blog and i’m so happy you’re writing for 7ds 😭💕

I’m very happy to know that I’ve made you happy hehe ☆

He's generally a huge introvert, and prefers to keep his social interactions to a minimum of some degree. For him, being in the same room or in close distance with you is enough for Nanashi. Though he isn't clueless to conversing, he prefers to listen to you leading most conversations you have. He likes when you talk his ear off in this regard with whatever subject you may be so passionate about, it makes him happy that you share your favorite things with him. Nanashi may even throw in a informed comment or two about the subject if it is something he is familiar with.

One of Nanashi's ways of bonding is taking walks together, especially in places he has come across before, he remembers these things specifically because he may think you like such beauty. At least, that is what he is hoping for. Nanashi appreciates the natural born beauty of the earth, and how well it can present that in many various ways.

As a swordsman, he has bound to have made enemies here and there. Though his enemies are very far and few, so no one has come for him. He prefers to keep his relationship with you semi-private for this very reason, as certain beings are very well capable of using loved ones against the one they hate. Nanashi fears this greatly, but now it is of minimal concern for the most part.

Despite the simple but reliable hairstyle of the pony-tail Nanashi wears, he is actually very good with styling hair into various different styles. You learned this one day as you had struggled with getting your hair the way you wanted it too, Nanashi had heard your struggles and offered to help. The results were far better then you expected, you wondered how he had been so skilled to do this in the first place.

Nanashi is highly perceptive and attentive to your needs or perhaps even your health, if there may be anything wrong with your health, perhaps something was bothering you - he'd find out pretty quickly. He worries for his woman, and will immediately come to your side and ask if you need help. He can be very stubborn and persistent.

To most at first sight, he can appear cold and reclusive. Nanashi can truly be very kind, and has a huge love for cuddling. You two had often cuddled, you couldn't remember one time you actually ever went a few weeks without cuddling. Of course, behind closed doors. Nanashi wouldn't obviously or openly admit this to anyone else but to you. He would be highly embarrassed if it actually was anyone else if he admitted it to.

Nanashi straight away from the beginning (and even before) of the relationship was instantouesly drawn to you, like it was energy that gave him peace. It was securely comfort and calmness, he wasn't sure how he could explain it, but it was simply just like that. He had never expected to feel this way, as he never had viewed or seen himself being 'official' with anyone. But it simply happened, and Nanashi had accepted his feelings the longer it went on.

When it came to loving you, it was as easy as breathing. Surely, between all lovers there are going to be ups and downs, but Nanashi just somehow understood. He knew full well he wasn't perfect, he was flawed, and understanding that helped Nanashi understand you better in the process.

Quite literally the embodiment of, "Do you think you'd kill for me one day?", and Nanashi would simply respond exactly the same, "Of course I will my darling."

He has raised his swords and pierced the hearts of many he had been faced with in combat, if Nanashi had to kill for you. He will absolutely do it, no hesitation in his words or even in the tiniest of his movements. Nanashi is highly protective of you and will not hesitate to resort to anything to ensure your safety in battle, some had seen his will first-hand, and think it is absolutely terrifying.

Even if he has fallen far from eden, the realm, he found the absolute personification of it. In you he felt better, and reassured about even himself as a whole. In his mind, if it were ever to run rampant with thoughts he stresses himself over, he thinks about you and he can calm himself down quite easily.

Nanashi has difficulty in trying to find purpose in things, as he had traveled far and wide, even within the reaches of Britannia. Yet in meeting you it was thanks to you, that you had become a driving force in most things he wishes to succeed in or accomplish.

[angelofthepage]

Community Secret Hunting: 3 Unfound Secrets of BATDR

So today theMeatly put out a tweet that we have three easter eggs that haven't been found in BATDR. There are capitalized letters in the message that, when put together, spell out WRITER. I'm wracking my brain trying to figure out what this could be a hint for, so I'm going to give you a list of my thoughts. If anyone wants to try these out, please do! I'd love to hear your findings.

We get a small thing about the writing department during the Studio Tours. Could be tied to trying to interact with that.

Might have something to do with using one of our ink abilities on walls with writing on them. I would try this with the first wall message of Chapter 3 (the one from the original BATDR trailer, "The Machine Must Endure). There are other places that might be useful to try, like "She Was the Fourth".

We already have a secret that's unlocked by collecting every copy of The Illusion of Living, but what if there's another? Wouldn't be far fetched. A certain number or all of them being under our belt might be the key.

We have the library in Wilson's Retreat with three books to read, but what if there's more that we missed?

Rereading The Mug and the Maiden, the book on Audrey's bed in the retreat, might yield some new perspective. I will try to do this and analyze it later.

Some people on twitter are suggesting trying to interact with the typewriters?

It could be tied to golden ink messages. What happens if we try to use our powers on the Contraband window in Chapter 4?

The North Wing has potential, Betty's line about it being a mess and how all those beautiful books can't be read now has me suspicious. The North Wing is the first place I think is worth checking given it's difficult to get through and is full of books. Are any of them able to be interacted with?

This one is a bit of a stretch, but does anyone have a completed save file for Bendy and the Ink Machine or Boris and the Dark Survival on their computer to go with BATDR? I HIGHLY doubt there's any kind of secret that involves something like this, but if FNAF World can do it, why not Bendy? BATDS save data would be my guess, specifically save data that has involved an encounter with Borkis. (Since Buddy is a Boris, and Dot is his friend, Boris being a clue to figuring out something writing related might make sense).

Is this something we need to look to the novels to figure out? We do have Dot in the writing department as of Dreams Come to Life. I'm not sure this is tied to her though, the games have yet to acknowledge the books.

Have we found all the notes in BATDR? We have notes from characters with names in one font, and then notes in this other font from someone that seems to be exposed to ink corruption (I'm assuming Sammy since the last one says "Can I get an Amen?" and talks about "My Lord", but it may not be!). Have we gotten all of those, or are there notes/audiologs we haven't found yet? Data miners, this may be one you can confirm.

Has anyone tried whacking the sign that has all the train locations in Chapter 4? Or using flow on it? I don't think this will yield anything, but it's got words in it, so it goes on the brainstorming list.

Is there anything in the real world Prologue section that might help us? We did get some hints at Dudley's design there, who's to say there may not be more?

This is all I've got for now, but if you guys have any more thoughts, please, feel free to add on! Share your findings if you try anything! Part of why I'm sharing this is so that we can do this together, as a community. Maybe one of you with better skills than I have can crack it. Good luck secret hunters!

[hisui-cotton]

As a little intro, some spoilers ahead! This is a little post about Sugar Apple Fairy Tale and how surprised I was to have enjoyed it. It really is such a good show and I'd recommend it highly. I wrote this in two separate parts but felt it worked better as one larger post so if it's a little disconnected or repeats anything that'd be why. Enjoy!

To fully be honest though I’ve been in LOVE with Sugar Apple Fairy Tale. It’s finished up it’s second season and something about the way it ended makes me think there won't be another season but I wouldn't mind either way. It felt good the way it was. I constantly found myself thinking “YES GIRL SHOW ‘EM” as Anne, our protagonist, was met with more and more hurdles in her quests and she'd work as hard as she could to get around them every time. Sometimes events happened that she simply couldn’t avoid but instead of simply being a damsel or waiting for someone to save her she seems to always get up and ask herself “What can I do right now?” Each time the show beings to enter a trope it seems to lightly find a new way around it or plays into it a really nice way. No matter how it plays out it’s refreshing. Where I would have been upset about feeling like characters should be able to see certain turns coming or problems arising, it was way more engaging to let the story play into those things and be excited for how things would playout after (and maybe shout a few “Gah I knew it!” when I got really into it). Overall too it has this otome game sort of feeling to it’s story progression. Even though the main love interest is fairly clear there are moments that in an otome would definitely net some romance points for certain characters.

Something that surprised me about that is I really enjoyed every second of it. It’s hard to explain the full story of why, but I’ve really had a problem getting into Shoujo type stories lately. I play a lot of Otome, in random sporadic amounts, and something that I enjoy about those rather than general shojou stories is that there is a development of relationships and characters that feels fun. In going through common routes theres a chance to engage and really understand aspects of characters that you tend not to always get in shojous because the story is meant to develop specific relationships. There are times where multiple relationships develop but most of the time a linear story works on specific relationships because that tends to drive the story forward more easily and is usually what readers want to see. Even Otome tend to drive the relationships through the common route but ultimately focus on the single chosen relationship in the full routes. Nonetheless my favorite part of Otome is when everyone is hanging out together and were able to invest our time in getting to know everyone as much as we want and see them interact with each other. There’s also a bit of world building in these parts that I like because Otome always have such fun worlds.

Sugar Apple Fairy Tale though is the perfect mix of the Otome getting to know everyone, and then the main relationship of shoujo. Theres something super engaging about the way they wrote it that makes it both a bit predictable but not in a way that I disliked. Whenever I saw something coming I didn’t go “Gosh that was stupid, I knew from the start”. It was more so that I enjoyed how I could see what was coming because it meant I get to know how the characters reacted when they found it out. For example I sort of knew that bridgette would find a way to get Charelle’s wing the moment she gained a crush on him. I did not however know how she would or what Anne’s reaction would be. And that made it intriguing. Something about the way that works is super nice. From what I understand as well, Sugar Apple is a light novel so it’s possible thats why it feels so interesting in it’s writing (if it is a light novel).

It’s definitely one of the easiest series to watch through that I’ve seen in a while though. It was just...refreshing.

[zutaralesbian]

I’ve been in this fandom off and on so some people already know me. But I’ve missed talking about Gallavich and decided to do this intro idea that the lovely @callivich came up with! Hi to everyone whose new to the ship or whom I’ve never interacted with! :)

Name: Danielle

Age: 27

What made you fall in love with Gallavich?

I started watching Shameless because my sister was binging it on Netflix and I thought it looked interesting. Gallavich took me by surprise because at first, they were not on my radar. I knew Ian was involved in a popular gay ship but they weren’t the reason I started watching. My interest for them started picking up during S3 when they began to further develop Mickey’s character. And then I watched S4 and suddenly Mickey was my favorite character on the show and the Gallavich brainrot became strong lol. At the time, they were also one of the most developed gay ships I knew about.

How long have you been a fan?

I started binging the show when S7 was first originally airing. So…*looks it up* since 2016. Damn. I believe 7x08 was the first episode I watched live. I saw the border scene in real time and it broke me lol. As much as I complain about seasons 10 and 11, it is still amazing to me that there was a time where I didn’t think Gallavich would be endgame and now they’re canonically married.

Favourite Gallavich moment/scene?

The wedding scene. Just all of it. It was so validating to see Ian and Mickey get married after all the shit the show threw at them lol.

Favourite Shameless character apart from Ian and Mickey?

Fiona!!! I think she was a beautifully complex character and Gallavich was the only reason I kept watching after she was gone lol. Her absence was still highly noticed though imo.

I also think Lip is one of the better-written characters but my feelings on him as a person are complicated lmao.

Do you write or draw or make edits?

I’m a mediocre fanfic writer. My ao3 username is we_were_younger

Favourite type of Gallavich fics?

When it comes to Gallavich specifically I really dig canon divergence and full on AU’s. With how long their canon history is, there’s so many different twists and outcomes that could have changed how things went for them, and I find ideas like that very fun to explore. They’re also one of the few ships I have where I think they can fit really well in most popular AU settings.

I am an angst lover though, so angst with a happy ending is my ultimate favorite trope. Not just with Gallavich but with fic in general. I’ll occasionally read and enjoy a fluffy one-shot but when it comes to multi-chapters, there usually has to be some angst for me to be fully engaged lmao.

Favourite Gallavich quote?

For Mickey: “Ian, what you and I have makes me free.”

For Ian: “I wanna be where you are, Mickey.”

I think both of those quotes just sums up what the other means to them so well.